“No,” Dayuki insisted, “it would not! Emergency coldsleep disengages the normal warning parameters—it says so in the manual!”
Hal’s breath caught. “Show me.” Dayuki brought up the pod’s operational literature, but it was written in incomprehensible medical jargon. “Are you telling me you actually understand this?”
“Of course,” she replied with undisguised exasperation, “why would I not?”
“Because you’re not—oh, to hell with it,” Hal exclaimed. “What do we have to do?”
“Pull her out of coldsleep,” Dayuki said. “Immediately.”
Hal’s mind spun. If her tissues starved for want of oxygen she would die or suffer brain damage. Tamara’s best hope had been eventual revival in a fully-equipped trauma center like the one at the Fort that had saved McKeon, but that option was off the table. Even if he could get her to a medical facility on Alpha continent in time he’d have to explain the bullet wound. If they pulled her out now—“She’ll bleed to death!”
“Or perish from complications from the wound,” Dayuki acknowledged, “sepsis; blood clots. There remains only one other choice.” She made a chopping motion with the edge of her palm.
“Amputate? No! That’s not going to happen. It’s—it’s—barbaric!” Hal exclaimed.
Dayuki stood and caught his head in her hands, turned his face toward her deadly serious gaze. “You would have her die, then, when you have the means to prevent it. How is this less barbaric?”
“It’s just—I mean I have no idea how to—”
“I do,” Dayuki replied. “I will do it, with your permission. Your duty is to return to your controls and fly us to safety as quickly as you can.”
Relief washed over him—relief that he’d been spared the responsibility for the act, followed by shame that Dayuki had to make the decision he couldn’t and accept the task that he wouldn’t. He nodded, returned to the cockpit and closed the door securely behind him so he wouldn’t accidentally hear anything to remind him of what was happening just a few meters away.
He tried to make contact with the Family via hyperlink but was not surprised when he couldn’t. The shuttle’s communication trunk was tapped in via the Fort, and Hal had no doubt that one of the first things the Minzoku invaders did to secure their victory was cut off the Onjin’s outside communications. Likewise he was unable to contact the safe-house in Saint Anatone.
No one outside the Fort besides Hal and Dayuki had any idea of what precipitated the blackout and it was not likely that a Minzoku revolt would occur to them. Fortunately for those at the safe-house, protocol required that they hunker down and wait for either word from the Fort itself or from Family off-planet. The chances of Den Tun having assets on Alpha continent since the loss of his gaijin co-conspirator Neil Sorenson were low, but not entirely negligible, and it wouldn’t do for Hal to traipse blithely into the facility without knowing what awaited him.
He could make contact through the commercial Nivian communication network, but doing so would have to wait until he reached the Archipelago if he didn’t want someone inside the Nivian security complex to wonder why a call was being initiated from well beyond the boundaries that law-abiding citizens were allowed to cross.
Dayuki opened the cockpit door. “Hal-san,” she said quietly, “it is done.”
He expected a bloody mess when he entered the passenger compartment, but it was remarkably clean and tidy. Tamara lay on one of the acceleration couches with a blanket tucked up tight beneath her chin, sleeping face drawn and pale, but breathing normally. His eyes traveled down her body to where the blanket collapsed a few dozen centimeters below her hip, then to a neat square bundle next to the ejection chute.
“Is that—” His throat closed on the word, but Dayuki spared him having to ask again.
“No, Hal-san, merely soiled dressings. I placed the limb in a nutrient bath within the pod to preserve it, should Onjin medicine prove capable of repairing and reattaching it later.”
Hal stepped to Tamara’s side and gently touched her face. Her skin was cool from her immersion in the coldsleep pod; her normally coiffured hair lay limp and lusterless against her scalp, still flecked with mud. The formidable woman he knew was gone for the time being, replaced by a hurting, vulnerable waif. The sight of her broken body was heartbreaking.
He held his hand out to Dayuki, drew her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Thank you, Dayuki. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“I do what I can for you, Hal-san, and for Mistress Cirilo as well.”
“Despite her hostility toward you,” Hal smiled grimly. “You don’t understand how remarkable that is in my world.”
Dayuki looked up at him, eyes moist. “She found it within her to accept me at your side, Hal-san, despite her own desire for you. That is more remarkable yet.” She disengaged his arm from around her and pushed him toward the cockpit. “I will see to her care; you see to our safety.”
Dayuki split her time over the next three hours between monitoring Mistress Cirilo’s and Hal-san’s condition. Strain painted his face with dark, puffy bags beneath bloodshot eyes and etched lines in his usually youthful-looking face. He eschewed food, claiming that gnawing hunger would serve to keep him more alert than a full belly.
Dayuki could not dissuade him from the notion and settled for keeping him supplied with stimulant-laced hot and cold beverages, though she knew that he could not subsist on them indefinitely.
The effects of the coldsleep drugs kept Mistress Cirilo unconscious, though her vital signs strengthened steadily and Dayuki could not be sure that she wouldn’t wake before they arrived at the cluster of islands Hal-san was intent on reaching. She was concerned that the Onjin woman would react poorly if she gained full consciousness without a familiar and trusted face to reassure her, but debated the advisability of administering a sedative merely to avoid the situation. It would be pure folly to risk her recovery with unforeseeable chemical interactions.
“I’m not going to make it to Humboldt,” Hal-san admitted as he accepted Dayuki’s latest offering. “I’m nodding off even with this.”
“There are stronger stimulants in the kit,” Dayuki offered with an intentionally cautious tone.
Hal-san declined. “The chart shows a small landmass about three hundred kilometers east of the main archipelago. It’s beyond the coastal boundaries, so it should be deserted. If it is, we can lay in there for the rest of the night.”
“And if it is not?”
“Let’s be optimistic.” He motioned for her to take the copilot’s seat. “We’ll be there in about twenty minutes; I could use some help on lookout.”
“Of course.” She strapped in while he set up the screens for her to monitor.
“This one is an overlay of infrared and thermal imaging,” he pointed. “Watch for anything man-made, or that might make a good place to land. This indicator,” he shifted his aim, “is active radar detection. If it lights up, even for an instant, yell out because it means we’ve been spotted.
“And don’t trust my reaction time right now,” he added. “If I come in too steep, or too fast, or get too close to something you think I shouldn’t, let me know. I’m so rummy right now I can hardly see straight.”
The island came into sight sooner than Dayuki expected, two small volcanic cones joined by a saddle of jungle forest, all surrounded by steep, unwelcoming basalt cliffs. Hal-san approached indirectly, swinging wide to ensure nothing lurked on the other side. Satisfied, he gained altitude and flew overhead while Dayuki panned the cameras about.
A small depression in the canopy flashed beneath the shuttle so quickly she almost missed it. She brought it to Hal-san’s attention and he came about, slowing. It was the remnant of a small crater a quarter of a kilometer inland, forming a small sheltered lagoon with a narrow strip of beach on one side, connected to the ocean by a narrow, curved channel that likely made the entrance difficult to see from the outside.
Hal-san let his breath out with a whoosh and laid his head back against the rest with his eyes closed, unmoving. Dayuki thought for a moment he’d fallen asleep, but he immediately opened his eyes again when she touched his hand. “You must rest,” Dayuki said quietly.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I want to check on Tamara first.”
Mistress Cirilo’s eyes were open but glassy when the pair emerged from the cockpit. “Hal,” she said weakly when she saw them, “my toes itch something terrible.”
He put his hand on her covered foot and rubbed. “I’m glad you’re here to feel it,” he replied. “You gave us a scare.”
“No,” she went on with a slight shake of her head, “the other one.”
Hal-san froze, his gaze shifting to the absent limb, fatigue-addled mind struggling with what to make of the statement. Dayuki interceded before he blurted out something unfortunate. “Drink this, Mistress,” she instructed the Onjin woman, bringing over a cup of water mixed with an electrolyte and vitamin supplement. “It will help.”
She sipped awkwardly at first, as if unsure how to swallow, but then she put her hand to the cup and tipped it up, slurping noisily. “Thank you, Dayuki,” she said when it was empty. “You’re very kind. I was sad when Hal had to kill you.”
“I have forgiven him the necessity, Mistress,” Dayuki assured her.
“That’s nice of you,” Mistress Cirilo murmured as the slight physical effort sapped away her strength. Her head settled back in the couch and her eyes closed again.
“I will stay with her,” Dayuki said.
“Alright,” Hal-san agreed reluctantly. “Wake me if anything happens,” he directed as he withdrew to the tiny sleeping alcove aft of the passenger compartment.
“Of course.” I will not, she added silently. He could not possibly influence any detrimental side effects of Mistress Cirilo’s ordeal, so rousing him that he might only watch helplessly as they played out would not be in his best interests.
Dayuki settled in to the seat next to the Onjin woman, curling up with her feet tucked beneath her and her head resting on the couch’s armrest. She fully intended to remain watchful until Hal-san could relieve her, but she was only slightly less fatigued than he and her eyes grew heavier with each passing moment. She wondered if she ought to administer herself a dose of stimulant—
—and her eyes popped open, tearing from the beam of sunlight coming through the viewport on the opposite side of the shuttle. She sat bolt upright, aghast at her weakness, and turned her attention to Mistress Cirilo.
The Onjin woman was already awake, watching her with surprising calmness. “Good morning, Dayuki.”
“Good morning, Mistress. Are you in any discomfort?”
“I have a maddening itch on my shin,” she replied, looking down at the stump of her leg, “which I find somewhat disconcerting under the circumstances.”
“Yes, the rokoyurei, or ghost limb,” Dayuki nodded. “I’m afraid you will be afflicted with the sensation until you are reunited with your leg, or your soul accepts its loss.”
“And I have to pee.”
“I will assist you,” Dayuki said. “I apologize in advance for the indignity.” The Onjin woman endured the process without complaint, dignity coming in a distant second place to practicality given the imperative to void her bladder.
“I thought I’d dreamed you earlier,” Mistress Cirilo said when she was settled again. “It was a little disturbing to see you this morning, but quite a relief, too. It shocked me that Hal could kill someone that he cared about with such cold brutality. I even examined the body—not closely enough, obviously. Who was she?”
“A half-breed whore,” Dayuki told her.
“Ah,” she nodded, “I never thought of that. It fooled McKeon, too. Speaking of that,” she looked around, “where are Hal and McKeon?”
“McKeon-san apparently betrayed the Onjin over some issue to do with his Minzoku wives,” Dayuki explained. “He regained his honor by taking his own life just before we departed the Toride.”
Mistress Cirilo’s face blanched and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “His wives,” she moaned. “How could we have been so stupid?”
“I was always given the impression that the Onjin were aware of the situation,” Dayuki said.
“We were,” Mistress Cirilo told her, “which makes it even worse! We should have relieved him of his duties the moment the Old Lady gave the order, but it just never occurred to me. And McKeon never said a word, probably waiting to see what Hal did about you. And then Hal ‘killed’ you.”
“I do not understand the connection between McKeon-san’s wives and Hal-san’s ruse,” Dayuki confessed.
“Hal didn’t tell you?” Mistress Cirilo asked with some amazement.
“I begin to suspect that the explanation he offered was not entirely accurate,” Dayuki replied, “though I do not know why he would believe it necessary to hide the truth from me.”
“I wouldn’t ordinarily take it upon myself to tell you,” Mistress Cirilo said with a hint of reluctance, “but I’m more confident of your ability to handle the news than Hal is. Do you know who I’m talking about when I refer to the Old Lady?”
“I believe she is the Onjin matriarch,” Dayuki replied.
“Yes, she is,” Mistress Cirilo confirmed, “as well as Hal’s mother. Did you know that?”
“I confess I did not,” Dayuki said. She knew Hal-san and his late father were high in Onjin hierarchy, but it was surprising to discover that he was as high as that.
“You need to know,” Mistress Cirilo continued earnestly, “so you understand exactly how precarious Hal’s position is at the moment. Dayuki, the Old Lady has ordered the extermination of every Minzoku with material knowledge of the Family’s presence and activities on Nivia.”
“That is not possible,” Dayuki informed the Onjin woman.
“I’m sorry, Dayuki, but it is,” Mistress Cirilo reiterated gently. “It must feel like a terrible betrayal, but—”
Dayuki cut her off with an upraised hand. “It is no betrayal,” Dayuki informed her. “The Minzoku exist at the sufferance of the Onjin according to the Covenant. I say it is not possible because Hal-san would not be so foolish as to disobey, yet I live.”
“What would you do, Dayuki, if you heard it from his own lips?” Mistress Cirilo asked firmly.
“I would acquiesce to the will of the Onjin, as you well know,” Dayuki replied, reminding her of the time not so long ago when she willingly knelt with the Onjin woman’s gun aimed at her head.
“I do,” Mistress Cirilo agreed, “and so does Hal; so he didn’t tell you.”
Dayuki didn’t answer. She wanted to deny it, to attribute the woman’s claim to an attempt to manipulate Dayuki into taking her own life. But she couldn’t forget what she’d seen in Hal-san’s eyes just weeks ago as she stood in the snow, trapped in the gaijin Terson Reilly’s vice-like grip—the desperation of a man about to lose that which he held precious.
“I never thought him so weak,” Dayuki murmured.
“Being Onjin does not protect any of us from human weakness, Dayuki. Don’t ever forget that.”
“And what of you?” Dayuki demanded. “Why did you not settle the matter for him?”
“I care for him; he cares for you,” Mistress Cirilo shrugged. “If helping him save you gets me what I want, then so be it.”
Dayuki shook her head. “I will not allow myself to remain a danger to Hal-san.”
“You are considerably less dangerous now than you were a few hours ago,” Mistress Cirilo smiled grimly. “We’ll need your insight to salvage the situation and the Old Lady
can’t afford not to be pragmatic with Den Tun holding Onjin hostages.”
“My mother doesn’t need to know about Dayuki,” Hal-san said from the alcove hatch, “so it won’t come to that.”
“The truth now might be better in the long run than the Old Lady discovering our deception later,” Mistress Cirilo pointed out.
“My deception,” Hal-san corrected, “not ours. You’ve got deniability and I want it to stay that way. You’ve got plenty to worry about without my problems. Let me deal with my mother.” He knelt by the couch and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry about your leg, Tammy; we did everything we could, but it came down to the last resort. We’d have lost you if it weren’t for Dayuki.”
“I remember being shot, so it wasn’t as big a shock as it might have been otherwise,” Mistress Cirilo told him. “I consider it a blessing that I don’t recall anything afterward.”
“Nothing?” Hal-san cast Dayuki an uncomfortable glance. The expression on his face told her what he was thinking: Do we tell her? Dayuki took the Onjin woman’s other hand and nodded once.
“What is it?” Mistress Cirilo demanded, looking back and forth between them. “What haven’t you told me?”
“It’s Sergio,” Hal-san said, taking her other hand. “I’m sorry Tammy; he died in the attack.”
Her complexion, already pale from the multiple physical traumas, went ghostly white. “My—my father?” Her face distorted with grief. “He’s dead?”
“It was fast,” Hal-san hastened to add. “He didn’t suffer.”
Tears welled in her eyes, painting glistening trails down her cheeks as she shook with sobs. “How did it happen?” she wept.
“It’s not important,” Hal-san muttered uncomfortably.
“Hal, I have to know,” she sniffed.
“Dayuki,” Hal-san said, “would you excuse us for a little while?”
“NO!” Mistress Cirilo shouted, hand clamping tightly to Dayuki’s before she could respond. “I want her here. I want the truth, damn you—all of it!”
“Hal-san, look at me,” Dayuki instructed. He did so, his misery evident in his expression. “Will you promise me to give my Mistress what she asks, without evasion?”
Embustero- Pale Boundaries Page 32