Cyber Shogun Revolution

by Peter Tieryas

  “What other foe?”

  “Do you want to avenge your compatriots?”

  She thought again of all the dead. “Yes, sir.”

  “As do I. But I need to know if someone is using Bloody Mary to attack us and if that’s the case, determine who it is.”

  “I asked her directl—”

  “And she’d have no cause to tell you the truth. Believe nothing she says. She’s been trained to confound, deceive, and cause panic through lies.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I have a contact in the Tokko. Her name is Akiko Tsukino. I want you to reach out to her and inform her of the situation.”

  “The Tokko?”

  “This is their jurisdiction, and they will be ruthless in their pursuit.”

  The strategy made sense. Set the Tokko up against Bloody Mary and wait on the sidelines. Again, it showed how General Yamaoka could dispassionately execute his plans without letting anything personal affect him. But she had her concerns. “Is the Tokko agent one of us?” Reiko asked.

  “No. But that’s exactly why I want you to work with her.”

  Reiko was alarmed. She’d dealt with the Tokko before. “Can she be trusted?”

  “You can make the final determination. But the Tokko have proven very effective when deployed.”

  “Yes, sir. But they owe allegiance to no one and could easily turn against us if they found out more.”

  “That’s why you will have to tread carefully. This situation falls under the Tokko’s purview. They’ll be very interested to know why Bloody Mary is targeting the Sons of War. Even without our involvement, the Tokko would be called in. If it’s us inviting them in, we can at least try to steer the investigation.”

  “That makes sense, sir. But . . .”

  The general stared at her. “I know of your past dealings with them. What happened to your parents was unfortunate.

  She did her best not to show any emotions. “Yes, sir.”

  But she thought about Daniela’s revelation that one of her students had been arrested for not bowing to an officer. Reiko’s parents had been charged with sedition for petty charges and arrested by the Tokko. The memory still provoked anger and frustration.

  “Agent Tsukino is a very different type of Tokko agent. I firmly believe that she will always act with integrity and not misuse her authority.”

  She still remembered the Tokko knocking on their front door. She answered and one of their agents asked with a bright smile, “You’re Reiko, right? Can you call your mom and dad?”

  It was his smile that haunted her. It never occurred to her that they were there to cause her parents harm. She’d been fool enough to call her parents willingly. “I hope so, sir,” Reiko said in the present, still full of regret that she hadn’t warned her parents off.

  The general stood up. “We will prepare ceremonies for the dead.” He put his right hand around his wrist. “There were many officers killed tonight that I was counting on for the coming revolution. We will avenge them all. But we will also honor them by not compromising the greater plan. We will need to determine if there are more traitors among our ranks and change the nature of our meetings.”

  “How, sir?”

  “More security, and perhaps smaller groups. We’ll continue later. For now, focus on resting up.”

  He left.

  As Reiko lay alone in bed, dissatisfied by the governor’s reaction, she thought of Bloody Mary’s parting question. Reiko’s first kill happened while she was serving as a munitions officer in her senior year. They’d been tracking the illegal trafficking of black-market goods on the Quiet Border. It was the middle of the night and rain was showering down. Eighteen people were making an illegal crossing. She couldn’t even see them without the thermal scanners as the rain was mucking up the sensors. Her commanding officer told her, “Fire.”

  She’d aimed, locked on, and pressed the trigger. Fourteen of the life signs ceased. She fired again. The remaining four followed. She didn’t feel anything other than a surreal sense about the worthlessness of life. There was no sign from the heavens telling her she’d done right or wrong. Their lives ended, and for all purposes, no one gave a damn. Would anyone even miss them?

  “Nice shot,” was all she heard from her superior, an officer in his forties whose reaction to anyone trying to come over from the Quiet Border was to pulverize them. She had no idea if she’d done what was right. She hadn’t even thought to question it in the moment.

  At least Bloody Mary knew the man she killed. Reiko had no idea who any of the people she had killed were, and that made her shiver.

  BISHOP WAKANA

  WEST TEXARKANA FORTRESS

  SPRING 2020

  I.

  “Sincerity Laboratory” was what the Nazis called it. It was a transient torture facility, designed to make any victim “sincere” in response to the interrogator’s questions. Bishop Wakana was a relatively new member of the secret police, the Tokko. He’d joined a year ago and had been called in to investigate rumors of a warehouse on the outskirts of West Texarkana Fortress where people went in but never came back out.

  Bishop tugged on his z-cloak, which was a 5.9 model and, in its current state, resembled a trench coat. Optical attributes on the clothing allowed him to switch its appearance, color, transparency, length, and even style, from retro to modern. The black coat worked well for him because it allowed him to wear anything underneath.

  Bishop had long hair he tied into a ponytail. He was six feet tall, had a muscular frame and stiff shoulders that were used to marching and charging into the thick of things. His nose was round and bulging like a bulldog, though very little escaped the sharp peaks in his brows that focused his vision. He’d inherited his thick black hair from his Japanese father and his piercing brown eyes from his Chinese mother, and had grown up in Kauai speaking both languages at home.

  “You find anything?” Bishop asked Yasu, the Tokko technician assigned for tonight’s investigation. The Texarkana Police Force (TPF) was waiting outside to check the site, but the two of them had priority. Yasu always appeared disheveled, always wore a suit, and always stank of cigarettes.

  “I’m tracking eighteen different types of DNA,” Yasu replied. “But half of them have German blood in them.”

  Did that point to Nazis? Bishop wondered. At a minimum, eighteen people had been tortured here. Were they their own citizens, or members of the German Americas who had tried to defect? Nazis were even more ruthless to defectors than they were to foreign prisoners.

  Bishop checked the sensor attachment on his portical for information on the warehouse and selected the “crime-scene” protocols. That meant the portical could start collecting data, running basic forensics, and snapping galleries of high-resolution images which it’d relay to the Tokko database. The records were transmitted directly to his contact lenses, so the feedback appeared in front of his eyes. There weren’t any previous records available to them, as the data on German buildings in West Texarkana was incomplete. A cursory inspection with his own eyes showed a series of old conveyor belts, though most of it had been stripped away. Maybe it’d been a packaging company before? It was now an empty space, with spotlights above that’d been used to shine blinding circles on their victims during interrogations.

  “How long since they evacuated?” Bishop asked.

  “Hard to say without a body or two,” Yasu replied.

  They’d worked together three times in the past week, and Bishop noted that Yasu took a little too much joy determining how corpses had been turned into their inanimate state. Yasu was extrapolating the events that had taken place at the lab and describing the various methods of torture he detected, from laser scalpels to precision heat incinerators. Bishop wasn’t surprised. Even in the Battle of Texarkana Fortress, regular bullets weren’t enough for the Nazis. Their bullets delivered hallucinogenic
toxins into a victim’s blood that warped their minds into whirlpools of horror.

  “Find anything useful yet?” Bishop asked.

  “Nah, just the standard.”

  If it turned out to be Nazis, the usual consequence would be a complaint at the German embassy. To which the Nazis would complain something along the lines of, “Technically, West Texarkana Fortress belongs to us, so it’s actually none of your business and outside of your jurisdiction, etc. etc.” It was a legal rigmarole that made death less important than an irksome footnote no one wanted to deal with.

  Bishop had a hard time believing this was all there was to the location. Sincerity Labs weren’t this clean. There should be bodies somewhere, maybe on the periphery, buried underneath the fields. He checked outside the warehouse, but didn’t find anything unusual except a group of crates. Something about them felt off. He used the extrapolation scanner on his portical. The crates were empty. Were they just for show? Or maybe to cover something up? He pushed them aside. There was a panel underneath, but no lock. Bishop lifted it up and saw stairs going down. He sent a note to Yasu, took out his Nambu heat pistol, turned on his portical’s flashlight, and descended. There was an eerie blue light emanating from below. He moved slowly, had his portical check for heat signatures. None were actively moving, but there was something human down there.

  “I’m Bishop Wakana of the Tokko,” he stated. “If you resist, I will fire.”

  In 99 percent of cases, the mention of Tokko broke all resistance. In the 1 percent that didn’t, he’d have to fight his way through. What he didn’t expect was silence. When he reached the bottom, he saw ten crates full of guns, which in themselves would have been alarming. But what really disturbed him were the four human-sized glass tubes filled with liquid and separated body parts. His muscles tensed and his face crunched up in disgust. Was this the work of the Nazi scientist he’d been tracking, Dr. Metzger? Goddamn them. According to Tokko reports, the doctor had already killed a thousand people in his experiments in the German Americas. Bishop felt sick inside, but he did his best to calm his nerves and focus on investigating what had transpired.

  He winced when the eyes on the detached girl’s head opened. “Can you hear me?” Bishop asked desperately.

  But the girl blinked at him a few times before closing her eyes.

  No matter how many times he saw the Nazi’s handiwork, he had a hard time dealing with it, especially since this girl reminded him of his niece. He looked closer to make sure it wasn’t her. It wasn’t, but her presence still creeped him out.

  Bishop rushed back upstairs and called Yasu, who followed him back down.

  Yasu’s eyes brightened at the sight.

  “This looks like the work of Dr. Metzger,” he confirmed.

  “Why do you sound so excited?” Bishop asked, having the opposite reaction.

  “Because it’s rare to find a treasure trove like this intact.”

  On the Tokko feed, Bishop read over Dr. Metzger’s profile again. He was a periodontist by trade, though his interest in human biology went beyond tooth structures and gums. Metzger’s family came from a long line of American white supremacists. They’d initially welcomed the Nazis, believing they would help purge the other races. But like many, they were disillusioned to learn that the Nazis didn’t believe all whites were equal and that German Aryans were of a superior breed. Born in Birmingham, Metzger was thirty-four years of age, and was reported to be involved with illegal arms dealing, providing weapons for insurgents within the USJ. The trafficking was what had put the periodontist into the purview of the Tokko. When Metzger killed one hundred twenty-three people in a biochemical experiment gone awry, he jumped up on the wanted list. But had Bishop stumbled on something bigger than his original case?

  Yasu said, “I’m going to need some time with this.”

  “You want me to call for help?” Bishop asked.

  “Hell no,” Yasu snapped, indignant at the suggestion. “Just keep the TPF out.”

  Bishop would deal with the Texarkana Police Force later. He looked at the sundered body parts again, his eyes going to the young girl.

  “Over fifty-six people,” Yasu said.

  “They’re not alive, right?” he asked.

  Yasu considered the question. “From a medical perspective, no. But from a biological point of view, it’s possible their individual parts can be recycled for use.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means more or less they’re dead, but other humans can still use their limbs as body parts.”

  Fifty-six dead people. Bishop felt disgusted.

  “I’m going to need more time to figure it out,” Yasu continued. “But it’s all wrapped under some seal called ‘Ulfhednar.’ Any idea what that might mean?”

  Ulfhednar? Bishop shook his head, never having heard of it. “None.”

  “There’s got to be information somewhere around here.”

  “What about the guns?” Bishop inquired.

  “The shipment data says they were being smuggled to Nakajima Airport in Dallas. I’ll send specifics to your portical as soon as I have them.”

  Bishop stared one last time at the bodies before checking the portical time for the next Shinkansen to Dallas Tokai. He could make the 16:00 bullet train if he hurried. The lead detective for the TPF was waiting above, and Bishop hoped she would not make too big a deal in a fight over jurisdiction.

  * * *

  —

  Bishop barely made it in time for the train. At the Texarkana Station, he boarded the Shinkansen using his badge, which gained him free entry on all transit. “Hand and Eye of the Police” was the text printed at the bottom of his badge in the elaborate merging of a visual eye and the Kanji to represent Tokko. He grabbed a seat and strapped on the belt as the train left. News channels on the train’s portical display gave a roundup of the daily news, focusing on the tensions in the Quiet Border with the Nazis.

  He used his portical to call his niece, Lena. Her mother, Maia, picked up, and Lena was next to her.

  “Uncle Bishop!” Lena yelled. She was eight and had the same sharp brown eyes as his late younger brother. “Are you coming home?”

  Bishop was elated to see her and tried to get the image of the girl from the lab out of his mind. “Not today,” he replied.

  “Will you come to my concert this weekend?”

  “I’ll try my best,” Bishop replied. “You’ve been practicing your Kawada?”

  “I can play it blindfolded!” she exclaimed. It was the way his brother had practiced on his violin, and when Bishop had mentioned it to her, she took it to heart and insisted on practicing in the same way. “Did you see the video I sent you?”

  “Not yet, but I will,” Bishop promised.

  “I played perfect twice.”

  “She’s been going to bed late because she’s practicing so much,” Maia cut in. “Speaking of which, something happened at Lena’s school I need to talk to you about. The—”

  But just as she was about to explain, Bishop received an emergency call from his boss.

  “I have to go, but I’ll call you back,” he said, and ended the call abruptly.

  He received the call from Colonel Akiko Tsukino of the Tokko. Ethnically, she was half-Korean, half-French, and one of the best agents in the thought police. She had lost both her arms to the George Washington terrorists and replaced them with bionic ones, which she used to hunt them down. The GWs called her the “Scourge,” as she violently killed so many of them. It was hard to imagine her as a terrorist killer, as she was so cool and calculating in person. Then again, as a Tokko agent himself, he always had to hide who he really was.

  “Once you arrive in Dallas, I want you to head to Governor Yamaoka’s office,” Akiko stated, getting straight to the point.

  “The reason, ma’am?”

  “Nakajima
Airport is under army jurisdiction. Based on Yasu’s report, they’ve uncovered several more shipments from Texarkana.”

  “That was fast.”

  “I want you to investigate the shipments, but the army also wants to have one of their representatives accompany you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Be careful in your dealings with the army.”

  “Be careful how?” Bishop asked.

  “No matter how friendly or close they may seem, they have their own interests and objectives in mind.”

  “They want to kick Nazi ass too, don’t they?”

  “Their definition of kicking ass may diverge from your own,” Akiko replied.

  The communication ended.

  He tried calling back his sister-in-law, but she didn’t pick up. Bishop looked at the videos his niece had sent of her playing the violin blindfolded. Lena made several mistakes, but she persisted through to the end. There were more videos of her after her practice session, as she insisted on salted caramel cake and strawberry ice cream. He smiled, as his brother had a sweet tooth as well. While both were in the army, they’d promised each other that they’d one day start their own restaurant. Bishop would make the main courses, and his brother would pick the desserts.

  As he was musing, a report came in from Yasu on his portical, comparing the lab victims with photos of all the people Metzger had killed when the biological chemicals he was experimenting with got out of control. The faces of the dead were ghastly, as their skin had decomposed and their muscles had contracted until they’d essentially imploded.

  Bishop compiled a preliminary report about his findings for his boss. Hopefully, his superiors could make more sense of it. He’d been up for almost twenty-four hours, so he was tired and closed his eyes, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep.

  A memory attacked him. He breathed hard, trying not to let the feeling of constriction remind him of the past, the time the Nazis had him in chains, needles in his eyes, chemicals injected into his veins to keep him awake for a month without a second of sleep.