Heart of a Traitor

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “What is that?”

  She looked down sadly. “It’s no longer a bowl.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Festival of Shogatsu

  Armed with branches and rocks, the slaves rushed the electrified fences of the governor’s bastion, the bodies of the dying forming a ramp that those behind used to leap over the fences. In a move that shocked the entire empire, Governor Aţipeală requested aid from the military to quell the revolt.

  -Excerpt from The Fall of the Ashtari, suppressed by the Marshals 22.03.4112rl

  An entire cargo bay had been completely cleared out to make space for the festival. The halo-lights that normally illuminated the bay had been turned off. Instead it was illuminated by clusters of humming Shika crystals, which gave off a soothing blue light giving the bay a peaceful and sophisticated feel. Traditional Tsuken vines hung down from potted troughs that hung from the ceiling and the coral-colored flower petals from the vines sprinkled down through the air and onto the floor, leaving an enchanting scent in the air. The people of Correll had not always been Technologists and traditional festivals were nice for getting back in touch with their cultural roots. A traditional shinsei band filled the bay with a gentle organic music. The Tsuken vines reacted by swaying rhythmically. A particularly skillful musician could make the Tsuken curl and spiral, creating wonderful flowing patterns. Long ago, the master-shinsei would gather during Shogatsu to retell the legends of the great families. The vines would be intertwined to create the silhouettes of the saints and warriors as the story unfolded. Sadly, much of this art was lost with Correll itself and while these players were quite good, the stories of the past would never be properly told again.

  Still, they played on so that those in attendance could remember their noble roots and their mortal past. The light, music, and scent of the room made their hearts light and for a time they forgot the pressures of the present and simply enjoyed the company of their friends and family.

  Originally Shogatsu was the festival of renewal, where vows were reaffirmed and renewed and the bonds between the noble families were celebrated. It marked the beginning of the Correll lunar calendar and was traditionally a solemn festival, marked by prayer and contests of ability and achievement. Among the Senshi of Correll, the contests were far more rowdy then the festivals held by the people, with contests of marksmanship, swordplay, strength, and endurance being added to the more traditional matches.

  The Seventh Division, under the direction of Inami, took the divergence a step further with many fanciful and occasionally ridiculous contests, including a mandatory drinking contest at the end of the night, which she had personally won the last six out of seven years. On one side of the bay a large amphitheater had been constructed for carrying out ceremonial duels, although this year it would only be used to host the combat-robot competition. On another side of the bay was a trading area where many people had set up displays and booths. Trinkets and baubles from dozens of different worlds were being sold and traded and the shouts of the vendors advertising the quality of their wares occasionally rose over the general buzz of the room. The big item this year was small carvings made from a jade green stone, crafted to look like a baby pterrabear. The carvings were worn around the neck and glowed a different color depending on the mood of the wearer.

  Exotic fruits had been brought in from hundreds of worlds and had been carefully sliced and prepared, with wedges of the fruit arranged in grand spiral patterns that covered the surface of enormous hardwood tables. There were large crystal dishes filled with fine crèmes and sauces sitting neatly in the center of the spirals. At great expense, large amounts of rare and precious firewood had been brought in along with live animals, which had been prepared in specially designed rooms with smoke scrubbers which allowed the meat to be cooked over an open fire in the traditional manner. Spices had been imported from all corners of the galaxy and their scents intermingled in the air, creating a delightful aroma.

  The favorite tables, by far, were the dessert tables, which overflowed with the finest pies, creams, cakes, cookies, candies, and sweets available. Small robots worked almost constantly to replenish the ever-dwindling food supplies on those tables and most of the complaints overheard about the food had to do with running out of Correllian fudge far too early in the day. The salad and cheese tables, by contrast, were arranged with no less care and skill, but it was only necessary to replenish their food dishes once or twice.

  So large were the banquet tables that no one could reach the food placed on them except for the outer edges, so each participant was issued a small robot, which would scurry deftly over the trays and tables to retrieve whatever piece of food they were commanded to. Occasionally, two robots would arrive to grab the same piece of food at the same time and once or twice during the night a serve-droid was commanded to nab a piece of food that had already been served to someone else’s plate and a small fight would break out. Luckily, these fights never really escalated past a scuffle and were easily resolved, usually by bringing out another bottle or two of Correllian cherry-wine and issuing a toast.

  Nariko walked in, wearing her best dress uniform and surveyed the massive hall unsure of where to go first.

  “Welcome Ama-suku!” Ami said giddily as she skipped up, wearing a bright pink ball gown that matched her hair.

  “What did you call me?”

  “It’s short for Amazon Utsukushii, it means ‘Fair Amazon.’ It’s your new nickname, ‘cause you’re so tall,” Ami answered, handing Nariko a floor card.

  “Yes, I know I’m tall, but...”

  “You’re like a foot taller than everyone else here,” Ami said, spinning around to make her dress fan out.

  “...Yes, thank you, I really don’t like to be reminded...”

  “...even the men.”

  “LOOK...ahem, please don’t call me that again, okay? It’s embarrassing.”

  Ami stopped spinning and put a pink-gloved finger to her chin. “But, you gotta have a nickname”

  “Says who?”

  “The universe,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Ami put her arms down in disappointment. “Well, what should I call you then?”

  “Just call me Gunsho, or Ms. Amano if you like.”

  Ami frowned, her large pink eyes becoming moist. “All my other friends have fun nicknames, that is so stuffy.”

  Ami places so much weight on her friendships. She values them above everything else. Threaten them and she will willingly sign even her soul away.

  W-what?

  “Well, let’s see,” Ami thought, tapping her fingers together. “You can be really fierce and you’re body is, like, really, really developed, so maybe...”

  She would do anything if it would protect them. Lie, steal, kill, even allow herself to be consumed by Asfanţit.

  There was a flash of light and Nariko could see Ami surrounded by fire, her hand touching the seal of on the back of her left hand and swearing away her soul to Drak’Nal. Nariko could sense how easy it would be. So little effort required, just a little push and she could make Ami fall to the curse. The vision ended, leaving Nariko completely stunned fighting to keep her balance.

  “...so how about I call you Oppa-mon?”

  “S-sure...whatever,” Nariko mumbled distantly.

  Nariko grabbed onto a decorative pillar to keep herself steady.

  “Okay, I just finished feeding my space-leeches, I’m going to go sit down,” Ami announced as she bounded off happily.

  “There are no such things as space-leeches,” Nariko groaned.

  What...what just happened?

  Nariko slowly made her way over to the table set up for Shiro squad and sat down with the others.

  Michi was scrolling through her data slate intently while she chewed absentmindedly on a piece of fudge.

  “What are you doing over there, Michi?” Keiko asked, popping a gumdrop into her mouth.

  “Lo
oking through baby names. What do you guys think about Tetsuya? It means arrow of philosophy.”

  “We know what it means, Michi,” Sorano bemoaned, sending her robot off for a new bottle of wine.

  “It’s okay, but I still really like Kentaro, it means healthy and plump,” Michi suggested.

  “You can’t name your kid ‘plump,’ not unless you want him to be traumatized his whole life,” Taka enjoined.

  “I think it’s cute,” Ami said, organizing her sugar cookies into piles based on shape.

  “The other kids will never stop teasing him,” Keiko warned.

  “Fine then,” Michi said. “Hiedo, it means a man who excels. You can’t make fun of that.”

  “Why are you only looking up boy names, Michi?” Sakurako asked softly, between bites of carrot. “Don’t you want to have a daughter?”

  “Noooooooooo. Nah uh. No way. I’ve been surrounded by nothing but hormonal females for three hundred years. I’m having boys, NOTHING but boys.”

  Everyone else at the table laughed except Nariko.

  Michi’s desire for motherhood is her weakness. Encourage it, nurture it and it will bloom into an obsession that will drive her to trade anything for it. It wouldn’t take much to get her to a place where she would betray all of you in order to have it. Then, once she is there, offer it to her.

  She’d never fall for such a blatant deception. She’s smarter than that.

  You fell for less. Never doubt the human capacity for self-delusion. Once they have their mind set on something strongly enough, they’ll believe anything they want to believe. You don’t need to lie to deceive them; they’ll do all the work for you. They’ll seek out proof to reinforce what they want to believe, no matter how outlandish and they’ll ignore everything that contradicts what they want to believe, no matter how obvious. You can even get them to believe that there is no such thing as evil, or that demons like us don’t exist. I must admit, that one is my personal favorite.

  Nariko turned her gaze away from Michi, her eyes landing on Keiko.

  Her desire for freedom.

  Nariko turned away, facing Taka.

  Acceptance, so she won’t feel alone.

  Nariko turned back, now before Sorano.

  Power, so she won’t feel afraid.

  Nariko leaned back and grabbed sides of her head.

  Stop it, STOP IT! I don’t want to know these things.

  You know them because it is your nature to know them. Demons don’t need to be taught how to corrupt humans. It comes naturally to us, so it comes naturally to you.

  Nariko sat up. The rest of the people at the table were happily conversing with each other, but Sakurako was silent and staring straight at her knowingly with her unflinching silver eyes.

  Nariko lowered her red eyes and averted her gaze.

  She’s right. I’ve become dangerous. If I don’t remove myself, someone is going to get hurt, or even worse.

  “I thought that was you,” said a young and squeaky voice.

  Nariko looked up as Dargner and Jenna sat down to join them at the squad table.

  “Boy you sure clean up nice,” Dargner praised. “When I see you all fancied up in your dress uniform I barely recognize the dirty woman wearing a slave collar alongside Jenna back on the Scavenger.”

  “You wore a slave collar?” Sorano asked, obviously unsure if she had heard correctly as she finished off another bottle of wine.

  “Quiet, Sorano,” Nariko dismissed.

  Jenna looked healthy and clean, wearing an apprentice engineer’s uniform. There was light in her eyes again. She seemed young and it made Nariko feel old.

  “And you look like you are finally getting real food to eat,” Nariko praised.

  “Thank you,” Jenna blushed. “You look better too, except you do have a little rice stuck in your hair.”

  “What?” Nariko asked, reaching up and finding a couple of stray pieces lodged in her ponytail.

  “How is that even possible?” Nariko complained, standing up. “I haven’t even had rice today!”

  There was a pleasant chime from the speakers in the center of the room where Mai had set up her command post. As usual, the thankless and enormous task of making everything run smoothly had fallen on her.

  Mai tapped the activation rune and the wind tube beneath her came to life, scattering the bronze and silver tokens placed in there until one of each was forced out through a slot at the top.

  “Mitchels Iwata,” Mai announced into the microphone, “Will be representing the cyber-priest staff in the combat arena. Please have your entry and challenge ready in five minutes.”

  “Old ‘Triple U’ himself,” Taka mused as she gobbled down a cream puff.

  “Triple U?” Jenna asked.

  “Unwashed, Unruly, and Unreasonable,” Ami said, wrinkling her nose.

  Mitchels Iwata waddled forward and raised his aged hands to the cheers of his staff and his entry leaped from behind him into the arena. His combat-robot was small with two articulated claws that fit on the end of armored arms. Its locomotion came from a trio of stubby pneumatic legs, which it used to hop around energetically looking vaguely like a boxer.

  Mitchels looked around until he finally spotted Keiko sitting at her table, eating some cheesecake. He smiled, revealing dark and rotting teeth, and, with a dirty fingernail, pointed at Keiko.

  “I challenge the tart nugget from squad Shiro,” he announced. Mitchels’ staff whooped and let off some catcalls.

  “Why does that guy always have it in for you, Kei?” Michi asked.

  “I don’t know,” Keiko answered, her hair shimmering purple with exasperation.

  After a return trip to her quarters, Keiko walked into the combat arena and set down her entry. It was much larger and heavier than Mitchels’, with six armored legs like an insect each ending in a sharp metal spear tip and a pair of optical sensors that jutted out of its torso like antennae. The sharp tips of its legs dug grooves into the floor of the arena as it walked forward to take its position.

  Misato from squad Murasaki, who was officiating as judge, held out her hand and the two robots lowered themselves to strike. With a snapping motion Misato dropped her hand and the two robots attacked.

  Mitchels’ entry launched itself into the air with a hiss arching down skillfully to hit Keiko’s robot in the back with its armored claw, but Keiko’s robot crabbed to one side and the tip buried itself an inch or two into the floor. Keiko’s combatant picked up its heavy limb and brought it down, but Mitchels’ robot had already pulled its claw free and hopped to one side. Mitchels’ robot snapped its claw onto the vulnerable joint of the leg that had attacked it and bit down with a metallic screech, bending the joint but unable to cut all the way through it. Green hydraulic fluid leaked out of the injury.

  Screeching, Keiko’s entry flipped itself over onto its side, bringing its injured leg to the floor and wrenching the attacker’s claw beneath it, pinning it to the ground. Keiko’s robot brought a leg up to deliver the killing blow, but a piston hissed and the smaller robot detached its pinned arm leaping back as the larger combatant plunged its talon into its own leg, hitting the already damaged joint and breaking the appendage off completely.

  Keiko’s machine squealed in frustration and righted itself with its remaining limbs, green and black fluid dripping from the stump of its severed limb.

  Going at the attack again, Mitchels’ entry zigzagged forward with powerful pneumatic thrusts. Keiko’s machine, appearing a little hesitant, moved forward as well, wobbling and unbalanced. The smaller robot moved alongside it and plunged its remaining pincer deep into its opponent’s thorax. With a horrible metallic squeal of twisting metal, it twisted its pincer around in the wound and then tore out the tangle of crystal circuits and cables that formed the sentient core of the machine. Keiko’s robot groaned and its movements slowed before finally coming to a halt, its legs twitching slowly as its systems died inside it.

  Mitchels’ entry held the torn co
mponents over its head triumphantly, to the cheers of his staff and the spectators. Mitchels walked out onto the arena, his robot leaping up onto his shoulder like a loyal pet.

  Keiko came out incensed, her hair a bright crimson and began collecting the remains of her machine.

  “You should stick to what you’re good for, Keiko,” Mitchels taunted, running a dirty hand through white oily hair. “The women of the Akiyama family always did their best work on their backs, anyway.”

  The insult elicited ‘oohs’ from the cyber-priests and scoffs from the spectators, unused to hearing such coarse language.

  Keiko did not respond, her face a mask of dignity and defiance, but her hair changed gray with hurt as she left the arena carrying her ruined entry.

  Now surrounded by empty liquor bottles, Sorano’s head bobbed and nodded as she attempted to remain conscious. Ami and Taka were watching expectantly, waiting for something.

  Their anticipation was dashed, however, when Keiko plopped the remains of her robot onto the table, the vibrations causing one of Sorano’s discarded bottles to roll off and shatter on the floor, shocking her back into consciousness.

  “Nice job, Kei-chan,” Ami huffed in frustration.

  “What’s the problem? That is her seat,” Nariko asserted.

  “Ami’s just mad because she woke Sorano up.” Taka explained, mindlessly flicking at one of her wingtips. “First one to fall asleep gets a whole chapter from the Cerinţǎ drawn on her face.”

  “That is so juvenile,” Nariko observed, still lost in thought.

  “Sorry guys,” Keiko apologized, as she pulled a server robot close to her. “Bring me anything, so long as it’s chocolate.”

  The robot chirped happily and sped away.

  “I’m confused,” Dargner said as he bit into a sandwich, a blob of mustard clinging to his cheek. “I thought the only men on this ship were the survivors from the Carrion.

  “Mitchels is kind of a special case,” Keiko began as the robot returned with a sampling of every dish that contained chocolate. “He’s a Correllian refugee. We found him and a few others in cold sleep a few years back on a freighter that had been adrift in the ether.”