Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2

by Michael Formichelli

  She frowned and spared a glance towards the container he looked at. There was a pile of dust inside it. When she looked back at him, he was glaring.

  “Doctor, please,” Giselle said from behind her.

  “Please? You’re in no position to ask for anything, Miss Tauthe. She couldn’t have gotten in here without your help. You’re just as guilty. Now, I’ve got work to do, so get out!” He stormed off to his office.

  “Sorry if I caused you trouble,” Cygni said to her friend once the door slid shut.

  Giselle shrugged. “He’s an intense man, but brilliant. He doesn’t deal well with people, though. You know, he lost his wife during Savorcha and then his daughter after.”

  “I didn’t.” She used her implant to access the Cyberweb and looked up Doctor Rega. A moment later the data entered her mind, confirming what Giselle said. The interesting part was that there was a note indicating Praetor Nero Graves was involved. She filed that away in the back of her memory for later.

  “Come on, let’s head out. Hey, thanks for coming down.” Giselle leaned in close, squeezing her arm. “We’ll come back when he’s not here. I have something to show you.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I think I need to go home. It’s been too long a day.”

  Giselle gave her a tight hug. “Okay, I’ll take you.”

  “You don’t have to—“ she started, thinking Sanul could do it.

  “No, I insist. Baron Revenant asked me to take care of you, and what are friends for? Right?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fuyūyōsai, Taiumikai

  41:2:14 (J2400:3138)

  Ichiro sat up and thrust his left hand against his right shoulder. His fingers closed around something cool and hard that he could feel himself touching. Looking down, he saw an arm made of glossy, interlocking black plates that merged with his flesh at the torso. He traced the seams with his fingers. The plates covered his chest from his collarbone to the base of his ribcage, and wrapped around his body from his sternum to somewhere on his back. He could make the mechanical fingers dance in any pattern he wished, but despite this looking at it made him feel like he was looking at someone else’s body. He winced, feeling the sensation of Qismat ripping his original arm from its socket. It took several long moments for the memory of the sharp jerk and the nausea that followed in its wake to fade.

  “Please, try to relax, Mitsugawa-uesama,” a pleasant, female voice said in his native tongue. “Your new arm is equipped with a camouflage feature. You may activate it now if you desire.”

  He looked up, noting the woman was in a white nurse’s suit with the Mitsugawa House crest on her lapels stood. She had black hair, cut and styled to hang just behind her ears with bangs over her eyes. Her paper-white skin marked her as an artificial, though instead of the pinhole eyes most such entities in the Confederation had by law, local ordinances and tradition allowed for more natural looking optics on Taiumikai and its colonies. Hers were overlarge blue irises that displayed the three lines of the Mitsugawa crest repeated three times in a ring around them.

  They were in a white room with walls covered in glowing medical holograms. The chamber was just big enough for his bed with some extra room for trays, equipment, and about four people to stand.

  “Am I home?” he asked, knowing that if he wasn’t they must have made it to a Taiumikai outpost.

  “Affirmative, Mitsugawa-uesama. You are in a private medical chamber in Fuyūyōsai-jō.”

  He nodded. The last thing he remembered was the battle with Qismat, and Setha doing something to the creature to destroy it. “Where is Eckortaan Setha-sama? Mamiya-san?”

  “Here, along with your other companions; Praetor Graves, Commander Valhalla Armstrong.”

  He nodded and accessed his new arm through his cerebral implant. A menu and schematics appeared in his UI, and he noted it was armored with several weapons functions before activating its camouflage ability. A moment later it was indistinguishable from his real arm, but he frowned. It was his decisions that cost him the arm, and he felt too much like he was hiding in shame to make it appear as though nothing happened on Elmorus. He deactivated the disguise with a thought and watched it fade back to its natural black.

  Ichiro thrust the sheet off of his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Please take care, Mitsugawa-uesama. The nanomeds are still working to bond your new arm to your body.” The artificial turned to the wall. The displays over it vanished, and a panel slid to the side. From it she produced his clothing and, to his great relief, Hoshinagi no Tachi.

  “Thank you.” He bowed.

  She helped him dress, and he accepted Hoshinagi from her hands.

  “In which room might I find Eckortaan Setha?” He asked, sliding the sword into place in his obi.

  “Yours, my lord.”

  He nodded and headed out into the familiar halls through the sliding, shoji-style door. The first thing he did upon stepping out into the corridor was breath in the thick, cherry-sweet scent of varnish from the uminoki—a wood made from the huge islands of floating, root-like vegetation ubiquitous to this world. Smooth and light-colored, the material was sturdy and reassuring beneath his soles. He had no doubt as to what his aunt’s opinion of going to Elmorus was going to be. She would probably be difficult about his arm, and definitely about Setha. She hadn’t liked Setha when they met four years ago, and the rumor was that Aki objected to his father’s marriage. He doubted the years had softened her position on wedding foreigners.

  A stairway at the end of the corridor led him up three floors. The palace computer fed data into his implant identifying each room he walked past in glowing characters over the doors. When he came the one he knew to be his the label appeared wrong. He frowned, and heard light chatter beyond it.

  “It’s been a long time. What do you think he’s like now after having lived so long among those foreigners?” said a deep male voice.

  “He is a Mitsugawa, isn’t he?” a second voice with a lighter tone said.

  “Do you think so?” A third voice sounded somewhere between bored and contemptuous, like someone who had made their mind up already and considered further discussion a waste of time. “His mother is one of them. He is one of them.”

  “Yada! You are being unfair.” That voice was female and unfamiliar to him. “He could be more Mitsugawa than you three together.”

  “That’s impossible,” the third voice said.

  “You’re not even Mitsugawa yourselves, you’re Einaga, so it would be easy,” she responded.

  “Semantics. We are children of a Mitsugawa,” the second voice said.

  “Your names are all Einaga last time I read them.”

  “And yours is Takeshima. Who are you? Do not forget yourself,” the third voice snapped.

  “Regardless, Mitsugawa Ichiro is our lord now, and we will behave accordingly,” the first voice resonated.

  There was a short period of silence before the third voice said, “Not until the remains of Mitsugawa Yoji arrive.”

  “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down, Junichi.” That was the first voice.

  “Listen to your brother, ne?” the woman said.

  Ichiro called up Mamiya-san’s CPAd and messaged him. Mamiya-san, I need your assistance.

  “My lord, we are awaiting you in your chambers.”

  That is what I’m messaging you about. There are at least four persons in my room. Though their voices are familiar, I recognize none of them.

  There was a pause. “Mitsugawa-uesama, you are the master of this house now. Your chambers are on the top floor of the donjon.”

  Ichiro licked his lips and sighed. I am on my way.

  With a last glance to the door he headed to the end of the corridor where another stairway lay. This one did not access a floor on every landing, but wound its way up a long shaft leading to the top floors of the structure where his father’s apartments were. He stepped onto the first board and a clattering sound preceded the
staircase’s movement. This was the way of the Mitsugawa, he mused as he ascended, the veneer of tradition painted over modern technology. His father once told him it was part of how their House held sway over both the common people and those that held power of their own. Symbols that called forth obligation from the past backed by modern technology and a firm hand made for steady rule.

  I certainly have a firm hand now, he thought, staring down at his black fist.

  The set of double doors displaying the Mitsugawa crest at the top landing parted, granting him access to the large reception chamber beyond. Yellowed tatami mats covered the floor from the entrance out to the open balcony doors. They complimented the gold walls depicting animals left behind on Earth centuries ago. Black columns marked the paths through the maze of shoji-shrouded rooms and white-marble koi ponds.

  The doors to his left slid open. Mamiya-san stepped into the space they vacated and bowed, then retreated back inside. Frowning, Ichiro followed and entered a rectangular chamber where his aunt waited. He bowed and noted that Mamiya-san had already departed through another door.

  “Aunt.” He felt a sudden uptake in his heart rate.

  “Mitsugawa-uesama.” She bowed.

  “Aunt, please.”

  “Please?” She straightened up, cocking an eyebrow beneath waxed hair. “The Uchū Shōgun does not ask please. Are you he?”

  He frowned. “Not yet, technically.”

  “It is good you recognize this, because the Uchū Shōgun would not run off to the front and abandon his father’s body for anyone, let alone a silly gaijin.”

  “I didn’t abandon his body.” Ichiro gritted his teeth. She may make it sound like this was about his duty, but he knew this was really about keeping him away from Setha.

  “No?”

  “It is on the Musashi, bound for home as we speak.” His mouth was dry. Touching his tongue to its roof felt like licking sandpaper. Why am I so nervous? I expected this, he thought. She’s always hated Setha.

  “I see you before me. I see Mamiya-san here on Taiumikai with you. Who is guarding your father’s remains?”

  “Mizushima-Taisa is a trustworthy individual.” His chest was tight, forcing him to breath in quick breaths like a mouse.

  “Oh, he must be for you to leave your father with him.” Her tone was not gentle. “Would that girl who came back with you be worth your arm? Your House?”

  “Girl?” The word tumbled out of his mouth.

  She stiffened.

  “I am sorry, Aunt. That was rude. You mean Eckortaan Setha-sama, heiress to the chieftainship of Savorcha and its off-world colonies?” He struggled to retain his composure. His aunt was a master at throwing him off balance, but he had to resist. He was the leader of Taiumikai now, and he couldn’t let her bully him anymore.

  “Yes, that girl.”

  “Her title is Eckortaan.”

  “Girl.”

  Ichiro frowned. “Rudeness must be in the air today.”

  “It must be,” his aunt said. “I suppose when you put it that way, a young man such as yourself would be compelled to throw away his obligations to his people for a girl.”

  A heat was building in his chest. His self-control was slipping. “You may berate me all you wish about my loss of attention to my obligations, but I will not hear you speak about Eckortaan Setha-sama that way.”

  “No? She is a gaijin. Ultimately, she is not important to this planet or its people.”

  “She is going to be the leader of a whole species some day. Does that not oblige us to respect her? Or do you think yourself exempt from that obligation?”

  His aunt stiffened again. “Is that why you ran away from your—”

  “I did not run away.”

  “You ran away—”

  He scowled, clenching his fists.

  She took a deep breath. “How easily the next Uchū Shōgun loses his temper.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but then thought better of it. Although unintended, perhaps a little intimidation was in order. His aunt was acting atrociously and needed reminding of who he was.

  “Sixty-days,” he said.

  “Very good, yes. In sixty-days your father will be ground-side and you will replace him—but sixty days is not today. I am still Regent until then.”

  He sighed and bowed his head. “Yes, aunt, but sixty-days is not so long.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You are just as petulant and impulsive as your father was. I warned him not to marry off world, and this is the result.”

  Mamiya-san, he transmitted.

  The doors behind him slid open with the rattle of wood on wood.

  “My lord?”

  “I intend to take up residence here. Please have my things installed in the Shōgun’s apartments.” He watched his aunt’s every shift and twitch as he spoke, taking a childish delight in her discomfort. “Further, my aunt will be returning to her own apartments downstairs. See that it happens.”

  “Yes, Mitsugawa-uesama.”

  He heard the doors close behind him.

  “I will retire to my old apartments then, Mitsugawa-uesama.” His aunt bowed.

  A stray thought crossed his mind. Do I have to worry about her? He wasn’t sure. The Mitsugawas had an unbroken line of rule from the time Mitsugawa Hideaki set foot on their ocean home world. However, he read the history of their origins as a boy. If he did have to worry, he wouldn’t be the first person in his position to grow concerned over a relative. Still, she was Aunt Aki, his oba-san, and he was obliged to show her a degree of respect.

  “Yoroshiku, oba-san,” he said.

  “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, nephew, and take care we don’t have to replace more body parts.” She tapped his mechanical shoulder.

  Ichiro stiffened, and refused to look at her. He heard her leave behind him, and another enter. His shoulders slumped. He wanted just a little time to himself. With a sigh he turned and looked up.

  “Your arm looks sexy.” Setha entered the room wearing a silken kimono with a pink floral pattern. Behind her Tengu padded into the room and sat by the door, his mouth open with his tongue hanging out.

  “That is an interesting way of saying hello.” He smiled and felt his heart lighten.

  “You’re an interesting person.” She closed the distance between them. Her hair flowed around both of them like a cocoon when she pushed into his embrace. “I am happy you are okay.”

  It was a strange thing to look down and see himself holding her with a black-polymer hand, but the embrace of her slight body felt better than any massage or bath. His sternum heated up as they held one another.

  “I missed you.”

  “You were unconscious.” Her green eyes looked up at his, pulsing faintly behind her irises.

  “That can’t stop me.”

  “Inveigler.”

  “That’s a big Solan word, and I’m not a native speaker. What does it mean?” he asked coyly.

  In response she grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips down into hers. He stirred, squeezing her tight as they shared a moment of oblivious bliss. He took a deep breath, smiling with the certain knowledge that she enjoyed it as much as he.

  “How do I always know how you feel?” he asked.

  “You’ve never asked before.”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t mean to pry but—”

  “Pry? That is a strange word for you to use. You are entitled to know. Look at Tengu for a moment.”

  He did. The big cerberai shifted his weight and looked back.

  “Relax,” Setha whispered, massaging his shoulders. “Keep your concentration on Tengu.”

  He felt the knots of tension tied by the confrontation with his aunt fade. His shoulders dropped under her kneading hands, and a feeling of total contentment warm his skin.

  “Now, look at me,” she whispered.

  That was easy for him to do. He felt amusement, contentedness, love.

  “What is this?”

  “The answer to your
question.” She rubbed his chest through his kimono.

  He looked deep into her eyes, imagining he could almost hear something whispering beyond them.

  “I told you what I was doing back then. Don’t you remember?”

  “You said you were giving us a way to stay together even when we were apart.”

  “Four years ago I gave you what I gave Tengu: a part of myself. I nestled it deep in the bone of your sternum, so you could feel me near your heart.”

  “Your alien nanomachines,” he said in recognition.

  She nodded. “So, now you know. I will not let you die.”

  “And that is how we can share thoughts, and feelings.”

  She nodded.

  He smiled and kissed her again. “What happened after I passed out? How are the others?”

  She sagged a little in his arms. “I destroyed Qismat and got you to the Abyssian’s ship.”

  “The aegis field?” he asked.

  “I destroyed it. I was reluctant to do what I did until there was no choice. When I draw a lot of energy it can be detected, and we needed stealth to get the ship—but you were dying.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I collapsed the building on the generator. Your men were dead, so I loaded you into the ship with Tengu’s help. It wasn’t long after that Nero’s group made contact and were able to fly the vessel.”

  “The plan worked.” He nodded.

  “Yes. Then I did as I said I would. I stole the power of the gates, and here we are.”

  “Stole?”

  “There will be consequences later, but those are mine to deal with.” She looked away for a moment.

  “You won’t be alone. I am responsible as well.”

  “Perhaps to your understanding.”

  “I won’t hear of it otherwise. Will your father be angry?”

  “Maybe, but he will see his daughter and the prophecy before the rest will. I do not want to discuss this now, Ichi-chan.”

  The sound of her pet name for him tugged at the corners of his lips. “All right, we won’t discuss it.”

  She separated from him, holding his hands. “Nero and Agent Khepria are downstairs as guests. Commander Armstrong is in medical. She was badly wounded in the fight.”