Heart of a Traitor

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “Look, it’s not just about the crusade,” Inami said, standing up and straightening her dress. “The Tyrant sector is falling and we have to help them.”

  “So, let’s go there and attack.”

  “You’re thinking like a Senshi again,” Inami said, placing one foot up dramatically on her chair. “One ship and a few thousand warriors won’t do squat in the Tyrant sector. But, consider this: Bael’Eth produces the lion’s share of munitions for the entire Uragan. Take it out and all those traitors in the Tyrant sector will run out of ammo and food. They’ll be defeated not because we kill them, but because we render them unable to continue fighting.”

  Inami stood up on her chair, standing over Nariko triumphantly in her princess dress, arms raised in the air. “From Min’Draguard, Heinreich Verräter sends orders to the thousands of Uragan factions. If we take him out, their alliance will break as they begin squabbling between themselves. The Confederacy will be saved and my name will be carved on every oathstone in every village and city!”

  The chair shifted and Inami fell crashing down to the floor, sending up a poof of candy wrappers.

  She’s completely insane.

  “We’ll talk more later,” Inami mumbled without getting up. “I seem to have broken my bodice.”

  A few minutes later, the hover skiff dropped Nariko off at the equipment bay for Shiro squad. It had a good layout, with private servicing slots along the walls for the squad’s boarding armor, which, from their dusty condition, Nariko guessed hadn’t been used in months.

  That will have to change.

  When Nariko saw what was stored in the larger bays she dropped her duffle bag to the ground. She walked up to the priceless work of military art standing stoically in its slot and ran her hand along its sleek surface. Tsunami battle suits were unique to the Senshi of Correll. Several times larger than boarding armor, they were specifically designed for space combat. These were a much older, much more reliable model than what she was used to. None were supposed to have survived the destruction of Correll and yet Nariko saw seven in this bay, one for each squad member.

  Nariko pulled her hand away when she realized what was going on. There was only one way the Seventh could have access to so much lost technology.

  Someone is binding themselves to artifact fragments. Nothing could be more dangerous. Object fragments don’t carry memories the same way a whole object does and a daughter could easily suffer a psychotic break afterward. Besides that, you could go through hundreds of fragments before finding one that was even remotely useful.

  Only a Taisa like Inami would allow such a thing.

  Suddenly Nariko felt a small bump on her foot and a metallic clank. She looked down and saw a grenade spinning at her feet.

  Instinctively she dove to one side, sheltering behind an ammunition crate, just as the grenade exploded with a bang. Nariko pulled out her katana and her pistol and checked her sight lines, trying to determine where the grenade had been thrown from.

  A small scrap of colored paper landed on Nariko’s hand. Then another. Nariko looked around her and noticed that it was sprinkling small pieces of brightly colored paper. A collection of four Senshi came out from behind crates and began applauding and cheering.

  “Welcome to Shiro squad,” Keiko hailed with a stupid grin on her face.

  Keiko was a beautiful, slim girl with high cheekbones and bright emerald eyes. Her jet black hair was pulled back with a hair band, allowing it to fall down her back like a peaceful ebony waterfall, accented skillfully with a pearl clasp on her ear. She wore a loose-fitting gray jumpsuit over her null-suit, which failed completely to hide her voluptuous features.

  Nariko came out from behind her crate and powered down her katana. “Would any of you like to explain to me what that was?” she barked.

  “Don’t blame us,” Ami apologized, pointing to Keiko, “It was her idea.”

  Ami was shorter and slighter than Keiko, with large pink eyes that made her look far younger than she really was. Her pink hair had been pulled into two large pigtails and her jumpsuit was dyed pink to match the rest of her.

  Nariko threw a sharp glance at Keiko, but Michi stood up for her.

  “We’re sorry if we offended you. This was just our way of welcoming you as our new Gunsho,” Michi said, bowing slightly.

  Michi, who was the only one of the four wearing a proper uniform, came up from her bow and smiled warmly. “Is it true that you brought some men onboard with you?” she asked, clasping her hands together.

  “I didn’t bring them, they just came along,” Nariko clarified. “They’re recovering in sick bay.”

  “Are any of them cute?”

  “Not a single one,” Nariko answered sharply. Michi’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  “How long is this going to take?” Taka asked. “Cause I can fake it for like a minute, but after that...”

  “Fine then, Akiyama Gocho Keiko, form up the squad for roll call,” Nariko ordered. Keiko fidgeted for a second then gathered together the group into a line. Nariko could tell that they were not used to being addressed formally.

  “Deru kui wa utareru,” Nariko said in the old tongue. “Who knows what that means?”

  “Ooh! Ooh! I know! I know!” Ami said, holding up her hand as high as possible and jumping in place. “In common the catechism roughly translates as ‘the nail that sticks up will be hammered down.’”

  Ami stood there, waiting for praise that didn’t come.

  “The nail that sticks up will be hammered down,” Nariko repeated slowly as she paced in front of them. “This means that individuals who stand out from the group will be brought back in line with everyone else.”

  Nariko stopped pacing in front of Keiko. “Accessories like that ear clasp are not permitted during duty hours. I would assign you six days of fasting and prayer,” Nariko ordered. Keiko’s face remained stern, but her hair changed color to a sharp red.

  Nariko paced over to Ami. “That jumpsuit has been altered against specifications. I would assign you two weeks weapons drills,” Nariko ordered. Ami’s countenance sunk and she stuck her lip out in a pout.

  Nariko walked past Michi, whose appearance did not earn her any obvious demerits and stopped at the last member of the group.

  Taka wore an impish grin on her face, as if she was perpetually getting away with something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. Her dishwater-blonde hair had stripes of pink and purple in it. Over her null-suit, she wore a midriff shirt and a pair of shorts. The wings that sprouted from her back were thin and delicate, like a butterfly, with dark metallic blue patterns that would shimmer brightly when they caught the light the right way.

  Nariko noticed that Taka’s brown eyes were dilated and she swayed as she stood. Leaning in closer, the stench of liquor was overwhelming.

  “And you...are not only drunk on duty, but are in such blatant disrespect for dress codes that I don’t even know where to begin!” Nariko barked.

  “I am not drunk. This medication was prescribed to me by a doctor on Taovah, sir,” Taka justified with a grin.

  “I don’t think an ugly bartender counts as a doctor,” Michi spoke, out of turn.

  “A bartender is just a medic with a limited inventory,” Taka retorted.

  Nariko held her hand up and they all went silent. “As I said, I would assign you those punishments, but I don’t care about any of that anymore.”

  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m here for one reason and one reason only and that is to kill traitors,” Nariko began, quite pleased at how well she was doing. “So long as you keep your skills sharp I don’t really care what you wear or what you do.” Nariko stopped and turned to them, looking them straight in the eyes. “But if any of you slack off and put me or anyone else in the squad in danger, I swear to you I will come down on all of you so hard you’ll wish you were back on Correll during the fall. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Ryokai!” They all answered in u
nison.

  Nariko stepped back and let her words sink in. Part of being a good officer was knowing how to read body language. Nariko could tell that her actions had the desired effect. Her squad knew she was lenient enough to be likeable, but dangerous to cross.

  I’m going to need people on my side when it comes time to get rid of Inami. Might as well start now.

  Well played.

  Taka’s hand shot up urgently. “Wait, we need to stop,” she announced. “I have to go number three.”

  “Number three? What is number three?” Nariko asked

  “Trust me, you do not want to know,” Keiko warned.

  In a blur of speed, Taka spun around on one foot and flew out of the room through one of the exits, her fluttering wings making a kind of thrumming noise as she sped away.

  “Wait, Taka-chan, the washroom is that way,” Ami called out, pointing at a different exit.

  “Too late,” Taka yelled.

  The squad groaned in abhorrence.

  “I am NOT cleaning that up,” Michi stated.

  Nariko was about to inquire further, but she never got a chance because at that very moment an explosion rocked the ship and sent all four of them wheeling to grab hold of something to maintain their balance. Emergency lights came on and warning klaxons roared, indicating a hull breach. Nariko could feel her ears pop from the change in pressure until the blast doors came down all over the ship to stop the atmosphere loss.

  “Looks like we are under attack!” Nariko declared, her training kicking in, “Shiro squad, mount up in your Tsunami Suits. Forgo the usual startup checklist. I want you ready to launch in two minutes.”

  The four Senshi hesitated for only a moment before responding. Nariko could understand their concern for space combat, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Is it possible the traitors tracked me here? If they did, we are all in serious trouble.

  Nariko ran over to the nearest Tsunami and placed her thumb on the identity pad. It drew a drop of blood and chirped an affirmative, unlocking the cockpit.

  Nariko lowered herself down into the torso of the battle suit and clamped the neural link collar to her neck. The entry panel locked in place and the tank began filling with a green liquid that Senshi nicknamed ‘snot’ for its uncanny similarity to the human fluid of the same name. The fluid surrounded the pilot, providing a ballistic cushion, which would allow the body to endure G-forces that would turn the pilot of a conventional fighter into jelly. It also had the property of hardening into a resin-like substance when exposed to a vacuum, which could allow an ejected pilot to survive for several days in a state of suspended animation.

  As the liquid covered Nariko’s face, she fought the urge to struggle and then inhaled sharply, drawing the liquid into her lungs. Her body tried to resist, but she forced herself to remain calm.

  Now came the part that Nariko hated. The collar on her neck positioned itself skillfully and then inserted an impossibly fine needle into the spine at the back of her neck. Nariko felt a wave of nausea. Her entire body tingled and then went numb. Her eyes closed and when she opened them again she was looking out from the sensor mount on top of the suit, which swiveled and pivoted like a head.

  Nariko brought up the armored hand of the suit, which flexed and tensed just like her normal hand would. She could feel and was aware of each system and function in the suit. It was now her giant metal body and Nariko enjoyed the thrill of power that it brought her.

  The servo-harness holding the suit to the wall released itself at Nariko’s command and she walked her suit forward in great metal strides toward the bay doors. The other three joined her. Nariko could tell who they were by their gait. Keiko’s suit moved with grace and fluidity while Ami’s suit waved its arms and skipped, nearly clipping those around her.

  “Onikano Command, Shiro minus three ready to deploy,” Nariko signaled the command deck.

  “Really? Wow, um, rally point 42,” came the response. Nariko enjoyed surprising the command deck with their promptness.

  It’s time to raise the bar around here.

  The rally point displayed before her and the bay doors opened slowly. The darkness of space became visible through the dim blue force field that kept the bay pressurized when the doors were open.

  Without waiting for the doors to fully open Nariko willed her suit forward and the plasma furnace inside it roared to life, sending out powerful jets of fire from the feet of the battle suit. Nariko’s suit slipped through the opening doors, with just inches to spare on either side. The other three followed her more cautiously.

  As Nariko rocketed out, she became aware of the three dimensions of space around her. The long silver hull of the Onikano shrunk behind her. Almost invisible against the black backdrop of space, the huge black chitinous forms of the Kuldrizi ships hung around the Onikano. Nariko flipped through the various vision modes of the battle suit and began scanning for the source of the attack.

  Ami, Keiko, and Michi formed up with Nariko, each suit sitting in a corner of a square formation facing outward, maximizing their sensor sweep.

  From their position they could see the damage done to the Onikano, a large punctured wound in the side of the hull spilling out debris and pieces of flotsam into space like a fountain.

  “Negative contact,” Nariko reported over the comm-line.

  “Negative contact,” Keiko and Ami reported as well.

  Nariko became concerned. She was expecting to find enemy ships, but there didn’t seem to be any.

  “Perhaps it was an asteroid strike,” Michi postulated.

  “They could have lost control of the queen again,” Keiko guessed.

  “Again?” Nariko asked, concerned.

  “It could have been space-leeches,” Ami suggested menacingly.

  “What?” Nariko asked doubtfully.

  “Oh Ami, not the space-leeches thing again,” Keiko complained.

  “No, they’re real,” Ami explained. “They burrow down into the hull of the ship, to feed off of the power cabling. But they can only absorb so much energy at a time, if they hit a major conduit they can explode just like a mosquito hitting an artery.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Michi huffed, “If there were someone would have cataloged it eons ago.”

  “They’re real!” Ami insisted.

  “Well, then show us one,” Michi demanded.

  “I can’t,” Ami said, thwarted.

  “Stay off the line if you’re just going to fill it with clutter,” Nariko ordered. “Michi, calculate the trajectory of the impact to determine its origin.”

  “I’m looking at the impact site now and the structural damage around the crater pulls outwards, not inwards,” Michi reported. “I think the explosion was internal.”

  Nariko jetted her suit around and scanned over the damage site as well. It was possible for her to rotate her vision a full 360 degrees, but it just felt wrong to do so. She increased the magnification, bringing her vision up close to the crater in the side of the ship. Rooms and levels were exposed, spilling out their contents into space. Nariko could see where the torn metallic skin of the ship was already beginning to heal itself.

  “It could have been a bomb. Sabotage perhaps. I’m picking up a cellulose residue all over everything. That could indicate a high-yield warhead, but not from any kind of weapon I’m familiar with,” Michi reported.

  “It could be an alien weapon,” Keiko suggested.

  “The ship could be haunted,” Ami concluded fearfully.

  “Get off the line, Ami!” Nariko shouted.

  “No, really,” she continued, “The lights in my quarters keep flickering on and off, even after I re-wired them three times and things keep disappearing from my room.”

  Nariko switched from the open-channel over to a private channel between her and Keiko only. She was starting to understand what Ami’s dossier meant by, ‘emotional incompatibility.’

  “What is wrong with her? Is she trying to be funny, or is she rea
lly that stupid?” Nariko asked.

  “No, she’s not normal. She might be the only person like this in the entire universe,” Keiko sighed.

  Nariko switched back onto the open channel, where Ami continued to talk.

  “...and then my rose-colored lipstick disappeared right in front of my eyes. The explosion could have been set off by that same ghost.”

  “Right, your lipstick disappeared so a ghost must have done it. It couldn’t possibly mean that you lost it or something,” Michi argued.

  “Ami, your stories are making it really hard for us to do our job,” Keiko said impatiently. The arms of Ami’s suit folded themselves defiantly in a sulk, but she remained quiet.

  Relieved Nariko became aware of new sets of objects emerging from the Onikano, as the other squads launched in their battle suits. Seeing so many gathered together in one place like this reminded Nariko of some of the Correllian historical videos she had seen. For the briefest of moments, she felt like she was at home among her own people again.

  “I’ve pinpointed the source of the explosion,” Michi reported, “It seems to have originated in blue-sector, ring three, room 22, quarters assigned to...Sorano Jinnai.”

  “Why would a member of Shiro squad detonate a bomb inside her own quarters?” Nariko asked aloud. “There are thousands of other spots that would have done more damage to the ship’s systems.”

  “Why would she want to damage her own ship, anyway?” Michi speculated.

  “The only way to find out will be to ask her,” Nariko ordered, “Stand down from attack stance and start gathering up as much of the remains as you can find.”

  The four suits broke formation and sped off toward the debris field emanating out from the side of the Onikano.

  “I still say we need to start searching for the ghost. Who knows when it might strike next,” Ami warned.

  Never mind, these are definitely not my people.

  “Ami, please don’t talk anymore,” Keiko pleaded, her patience gone.

  “Fine, then trade rooms with me if you are so brave,” Ami shouted, “and don’t come running to me when your stuff starts disappearing.”