“Yes, it hurts. Stop playing with it and give me the injection.”
Masaru thanked the Kami Joey was not here to make a crass remark. Noriko appeared to catch the unintentional innuendo and blushed. A testament to his willpower, he showed no reaction. He flicked the safety cap off the narrow end of the stimpak and pressed it to her skin, two fingers’ width above the hole. As the four-inch red cylinder emitted a soft hiss, he reached under her leg and found the exit wound. Noriko let out a gasp of pain as his fingertip made contact with a hole similar in size to the entry wound.
Tears streamed down her face, but she said nothing, and made almost no sound.
“It is curious that these people have Indirium ammunition.” He tossed aside the used stimpak and administered a second injection. “And anti-aircraft missiles.”
Pink foam roiled within the bullet wound. Noriko looked about to speak, but instead bit down on the armored glove over her left index finger. She let out a muffled scream and abandoned her grip on the rifle to grab Masaru’s hand. He’d taken a few arrows during his kenjutsu training, and imagined the pins-and-needles from a bullet channel would likely be far worse. She continued screaming around her bit finger while squeezing the feeling out of his hand. Over the span of about two minutes, the hole in her leg shrank until it sealed to a nasty-looking bruise.
Noriko went limp; he hadn’t realized every muscle in her body had tensioned until she slumped against the wall, out of breath. Masaru gave her a third stimpak, hoping the tissue damage had been repaired enough by now that some of its nanobots would work on bolstering her blood supply.
He sat atop a rectangular white box with JSDF markings nearby, about three feet long and one around, and fed her water from the genesis canteen on the ground by her knee. Reservoirs of hydrogen and oxygen combined into water at the push of a button, producing a weak but steady stream. Cryonic vapor wafted from the bottom as the system’s coolant kicked in. She drank a little and waved him off.
“Thanks for the stimpaks… my whole leg is numb now.” Noriko grinned and dabbed sweat from her forehead. “That’s an improvement by the way. You must’ve been expecting a rather interesting business meeting to be carrying those things.”
Masaru laughed. “I got in the habit of carrying them after following a reckless fool around in the UCF.”
After a few more breaths, she raised her head and looked at him. “Does your NetMini work?”
“No signal.” He took it out to verify nothing had changed, and scowled when he again received the error. “I would suggest that my employer would come searching for me, but the JSDF should arrive first seeing as how you have been here longer.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She let her head go back, and stared up into the sky. “It’s going to be dark soon. You should probably stay here inside the wall. They haven’t found me yet.”
“What? You don’t think they will come looking for their missing aircraft and crew?” He blinked.
Noriko let off a weak chuckle. “That’s what we were doing here. This place has become like the Bermuda Triangle. Our Heron is the seventh aircraft to vanish here in three months. Half of command thinks there is something unexplained going on. They may be unwilling to lose more people.”
“There is no doubt an unexplained situation here.” Masaru frowned. “But it is how these people have obtained such weapons. There is nothing ‘magical’ about this.”
“I agree.” Noriko rolled her right foot around. “I think I can feel my toes again. I don’t know where they’ve gotten these weapons, but they’ve clearly had no training. The man who shot me had me dead to rights. He came out of nowhere, less than ten feet behind me while I was firing on others in front of me. I didn’t know he was there until he shot me in the leg. He wasn’t even sighting over it… like he’d never seen a rifle before. I should be dead.”
He furrowed his brow. “Perhaps one of the other missing aircraft had been carrying weapons and equipment?”
“I suppose, but where would they have gotten the means to shoot down the first one?”
“An interesting paradox.”
“Right.” She rubbed her leg.
Masaru gazed up at the vast expanse of indigo overhead for a moment in silence. “The sky fading dark, no clouds no stars no pale moon, my path lies unknown.”
“Kuromori,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Masaru smiled. “I think I slept through most of that class.”
Noriko grinned. “I enjoyed literature, but ugh… math.” She indicated the white box. “Move a sec?”
He stood.
She grasped it, and pulled herself to sit up with a grunt. “There’s enough rations in here to last six people six days. I think I can walk now, but I’d rather give it the night to recover.” She removed two square boxes. The one she handed him bore a stamp of ‘JSDF Field Ration C.’ Hers had an ‘A.’ She clutched it in both hands and pressed her thumbs into two buttons, one at each of the front corners. After holding them down for three seconds, the box emitted a chirp followed by a faint sucking noise.
Masaru mimicked the gesture, looking confused.
“It’s rehydrating the food… the delay is to prevent accidental activation.” She opened the lid on hers, revealing eight pieces of sushi packed tight, next to a small channel that contained a tiny toothpaste-style tube, a plastic ampule of soy sauce, and a cute little plastic jar of pickled ginger.
His contained tuna maki rolls, though the side area held the same accessories. He plucked the two-inch long tube out and held it up with two fingers. Aside from the word ‘wasabi’ in black letters, it had no other markings. He eyed the ‘sushi,’ trying to wrap his brain around what it must’ve looked like before the ration box rehydrated it. In spite of his current situation, he regarded it with the same face he’d have given a waiter bringing him poached rat.
“Oh, I hate the C type rations…” Noriko squirted a thin stream of green paste from her tube over the contents of her ration box. “It’s supposed to be spicy tuna, but they forgot the spicy part.”
Only as a gesture of respect at her sharing her food did he partake. He removed a flimsy pair of plastic chopsticks from the underside of the lid and proceeded to frustrate himself trying to pick up the first piece of maki with them. They bent enough to where the food kept slipping loose. Noriko, evidently having more experience with these rations, ignored them. She removed her glove and ate with her fingers.
After another few minutes, Masaru set aside the urge to apply his katana to the food, and also used his fingers.
“I am impressed,” said Noriko, around a mouthful. “Most new recruits only try those silly chopsticks for twenty seconds. I don’t even know why they bother including them.”
Masaru mumbled, his mouth full of the saddest excuse for food he’d yet experienced. He raised a finger in a gesture of pause, finished chewing, and swallowed. “I am not the sort of man who surrenders easily… and”―he couldn’t suppress a slight grin―”whoever had the gall to refer to this as maki should humble himself before his ancestors.”
She laughed, clamping a hand over mouth a split second later with a wide-eyed look of ‘oops.’ He caught himself staring at her face, admiring the momentary glimpse of the woman beneath the armor and desperation of a situation out of control. In the span of a few short minutes, she’d likely gone from expecting to die out here to laughing at his joke. He looked at this person before him and beheld a woman unlike any other he had ever known. Strength, vulnerability, fear, courage, and hope all existed at once within her. Compassion as well, for she wouldn’t have been here if not for the desire to rescue some other pilot. Valor, for she alone survived an assault that claimed the rest of the crew.
Masaru’s smile flattened. He stared into his food. He had not seen any bodies around the crash site. Had she buried them or had someone else come by and taken the corpses? In her state, it seemed quite unlikely she had done much but drag herself away from the wreckage in search of a better place to hide. Perha
ps scavengers took the bodies for their armor, clothes, and equipment. Would Shuji suffer a similar fate?
Noriko’s grin tamed to a look of concern. “What is it?”
“Hmm?” He forced himself to eat another piece of the tuna roll.
“Your whole presence just changed.”
“My apologies. I was merely thinking of my friend.”
Noriko bowed her head with reverence. “I’m sorry.”
“These outcasts will atone.”
She raised her head, her expression as steely as his determination. “Yes, but we are not going to take them on alone. Miyakonojo is within the territory of Kurotai Electronics. Even though it is an interior issue, they have left this place alone for too long. I intend to insist the JSDF step in and clear this ruin.”
It is my hope they fare better than the Meiji bots. “Perhaps a cooperative effort would yield better results.”
“Kurotai Hideo is too cautious,” said Noriko. “He believes those who live among these ruins are harmless, but they are not. The JSDF is aware of a separatist movement in this region, calling themselves Etamura.”
“Outcasts?” Masaru’s arm stalled, another piece of maki an inch from his lips. He shook his head and tossed the roll into his mouth.
“Is that contempt I hear?” Noriko raised an eyebrow. “For the people or the term?”
He chuckled out his nostrils. “The term.”
“So you agree with them? They call themselves that because they wish to be cast out from the feudal nonsense.” She closed the lid on her empty ration box.
Masaru rushed the last four pieces before he could taste them. “Some CEOs would have you killed for calling it nonsense.”
A wry grin spread across her face. “Some Shogun would have you killed for calling them CEOs.”
Masaru gave her the side-eye, but smiled. “Is that why you joined the JSDF? To ‘stay modern?’”
Noriko collected her rifle, holding it in a relaxed grip generally aimed at the doorway. “I suppose. My family’s from Kyoto. I’m the youngest… two brothers. Satoshi was the first in my family to join the JSDF. He said he did it to pay for school, but he hasn’t quit and it’s been four years. He wants to protect Japan. All of Japan, as do I.”
Masaru gazed into the sky again, his voice wistful. “Kyoto… Quite modern, and an unusual situation. Rather than a CEO, it is ruled by the university board.”
“Japan Technical University,” said Noriko. “They understand the foolishness of backward ways, but also the foolishness of angering insane men with large guns.”
He chuckled. “Have you ever wondered how it started?”
“Yes… When I was attending classes, I met many people who believe psionics were involved. You know of Nakamura-sama?”
Masaru nodded. “A long-ago CEO of White Orchid… the first shogun. He rejected the ‘westernization’ of Japan and it was his idea to reestablish the ancient ways.”
“Right…” She tapped a finger on her rifle. “And you think everyone else in power all just said ‘hey, that’s a great idea!’ and did it? There’s a lot of people who think Nakamura used telepaths or some other psionic means to force his vision on the country. What sane person would agree to return to Imperial Japan?”
Masaru thought back to various history classes he’d had over the years. To combat the instability brought on by the Korean aggression, Nakamura had―for a brief time―managed to get all of Japan to unite with him as the supreme ruler. He remembered reading about a long-dead CEO named Oro, who had abruptly discarded the trappings of the 1600s as well as Nakamura’s claim on the country. He couldn’t begin to guess why, nor would worrying now what had happened centuries ago matter much.
“Perhaps. The people of Okinawa were desperate. Dressing in costume in exchange for protection seemed a small trade.”
She wiggled her foot again, seeming pleased. “But they also gave up much freedom. White Orchid enforces a strict caste system… they actually have ‘eta’ there. The samurai can kill them without repercussion. That needs to change. Prefecture governments need to stop warring with each other.”
“An admirable goal, but not one I would repeat too loudly. The NSK prefers things as they are. They make too much money arranging deals between the prefectures and the outside world.”
“And assassinations, and spying, and data theft… all things that they could continue to do among corporations. Japan, as a country, can be unified again and the corporations can still do what they do… but we need to stop letting them settle trade disputes with soldiers and hover-tanks.”
Masaru cringed inside thinking of the news report from earlier in the day. “Madness.”
“Yeah.” She leaned back and exhaled.
“So what of your middle brother?” He glanced at her.
Noriko grinned. “Amida is a veterinarian. He is a father of twin boys, eleven months old.” She made faces as if the babies sat right in front of her. “His wife, Sora, is so sweet, but painfully shy. The woman can barely talk if more than two people she doesn’t know are in the room.”
He figured her for around his age, somewhere between twenty and twenty-three. “Your oldest brother will spend his career with the JSDF?”
“Oh, I don’t think so… He’s taking classes, working toward his doctorate in exogeology. It’s his dream to help find new worlds to colonize. Of course, he wants to do it from the safety of Earth by crunching data.”
Masaru chuckled.
“What about you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Any family?”
“I have an older brother who is everything our father expected, and a much younger sister who everyone―including myself―dotes over like a princess. I have made a career out of falling just shy of my father’s expectations.” He glanced off, flicking his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh. Sorry. I imagine that couldn’t have been easy having a demanding parent.”
“For a while, I stopped even trying to please him. My father’s quiet disapproval never changed no matter how hard I worked… or didn’t.”
“I suppose I was fortunate and unfortunate with mine. They’re farmers. Honest, hard-working, tolerant… but far from wealthy. I didn’t join the JSDF for school though. I want to protect Japan.”
“Is that why you became a medic?”
She laughed, covering her mouth after a split second. “Stop making me laugh,” she whisper-shouted. “No… At the moment, I’m just an infantry soldier. I was on the transport as security. Maybe I will opt in for a different MOS when I get back.” She winked. “Maybe I’ll try to go medic. So you work for Kurotai, huh?”
He gave her a surprised look, until she pointed at the stylized ‘K’ logo pin on his jacket. He chuckled. “Yes.”
Noriko fiddled with her armband, a small terminal embedded in her armor. “Nothing moving near us. I think I’m good to walk.”
“Good. I was planning to keep heading west until I could obtain a signal.”
“We should go southwest. If whatever is jamming communications is in the city center, that direction will bring us away from it fastest.”
He nodded.
“We’ll go together at first light.”
Masaru smiled at hearing that. Though he’d known her for only an hour or so, he wanted to spend more time with her. He could put no price on seeing this woman for who she really was, as opposed to some desperate debutante clambering for the attention of the CEO’s son. Perhaps some hidden need not to be judged by his station had prodded him to give a false surname. “That is an excellent idea.”
“So…” She checked her rifle’s ammo display. “Think they’ll come looking for you? How long have you worked for Kurotai?”
“Worked?” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin for a few seconds before smiling at her. “This is my first day.”
enny flicked his fingers at the steering wheel. He’d spent the day driving and glancing every few minutes at the rearview mirror. Hayley had barely slept in the gas station. Someth
ing about the place had kept her on edge. He’d heard rumors about a type of psionic, clairvoyants, who could read psychic imprints in objects and places. She said she’d never experienced anything like that before, but whatever energy had collected in that place hadn’t affected anyone else. Alyssa didn’t bat an eyelash at the little office, though perhaps being a few months away from fifteen made her ‘too old?’ Some of the fringe paranormal crowd swore up and down that children had more sensitivity to things. Hayley wasn’t exactly a ‘little kid’ either at eleven. She’d also started acting odd as soon as they entered the Badlands.
Dread.
One couldn’t spend eighteen years running in and out of the Badlands without hearing people talk about it having a consciousness of sorts. Half the artifact hunters and explorers he’d run into believed the land to be alive, and not in a metaphorical sense. How else could they explain why the government had made no real attempt to ‘retake’ the Badlands after the Cyborg Reclamation Project failed? People like Eldon blamed money. People like the ones telling stories said the land wanted it that way. It craved the violence and death, and didn’t want anyone to leave. Electronics and tech could fail at random, often when most inconvenient.
He’d added the biodiesel engine because of those stories, but even he had only half-thought it necessary. An old wives’ tale superstition. Random equipment failure had never happened to him before. Maybe because it knew he would come back. For all he knew, it didn’t care who killed who. It would let him leave, knowing he’d come back, and knowing he’d kill Nibblers, raiders, or anyone else it sent his way. Didn’t matter if he killed them or they killed him.
Hayley lay draped against Kathy in the back seat, mouth agape, sleeping. For a little while that morning, she seemed to get over the unusual fear. As soon as they’d gotten a couple hundred meters away from that gas station, she’d gone back to normal. She still did not like it out here, and it made him regret taking her along. Kathy had joked that five or six days without logging in to the GlobeNet would amount to torture, but the way she said it felt wrong out here didn’t jibe with her whining about the inconvenience of being deprived her beloved games.
The Harmony Paradox (Virtual Immortality Book 2) Page 27
