by Joe Vasicek
“Captain.”
“At ease, Roman. What do you think of the girl?”
He brought his hand to his chin, carefully considering his thoughts. “She is spirited,” he said. “Cold, but spirited. She has sharp reflexes, too.”
“Yes, and her cybernetics abilities are quite impressive. I think she has exactly the kind of skill set we need.”
Roman’s muscles tensed, seizing up a little where the metal prosthetics met his aging flesh. “But Captain,” he said, “you do realize that she is Gaian?”
“Of course, Sergeant. Do you think that will be a problem?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps yes, perhaps no.”
“Do you have any other objections besides her star of origin?”
“No, Captain.”
“I understand your prejudices, Sergeant,” said Danica, looking him in the eye. “I used to share them. But as much as we both hated the New Gaian Empire, it’s nothing more than a phantom from the pages of history now. This girl is not our enemy—are you willing to accept that?”
“Of course,” he said, scowling at the implication that he might find it difficult to accept Danica’s orders.
“Then if you have no other objections, I’m ready to give her the position. In every way, she strikes me as exactly the kind of cybernetics officer we’ve been looking for.”
Roman nodded. “Yes, Captain,” he said. “I agree.”
Chapter 2
Katsuichi drew a deep breath and gripped the edge of the balcony guardrail. Overhead, the sun shone bright in the hazy blue sky, its light reflecting off of the brilliant golden spires and ivory pagodas of the floating city of Fukai-Nami. From the palace balcony where he stood, he had a magnificent view of the deep blue world-ocean, ringing the horizon in all directions as far as he could see. In the distance, other floating cities glistened white in the shimmering haze, their cascading domes making them look like beautiful islands made of gold and crystal.
“Katsuichi-sama,” came a deep voice behind him. “Please, come quickly. Your father lies on his deathbed—any moment could be his last.”
Katsuichi sighed and stared down at the peaceful scene as if to let it wash over his troubled heart. “I know, Kenta,” he said. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Very well, young master. But I implore you, do not keep His Imperial Highness waiting.”
His Imperial Highness. Soon, that title would be his. The thought filled his heart with a terror darker than the deepest abyss of the world ocean, where pressurized ice covered the sea-bottom and the warm light of New Rigel never shone. He took another deep breath and tried to quell his shaking hands. Did every emperor feel this way before assuming the responsibilities of the throne? Surely, if anyone but his bodyguard Kenta could see his fear, he would be filled with shame. And yet, even as he turned from the balcony to face the palace door, he did not feel that his fear was cowardly or unwarranted.
“Very well,” he said softly. “I’m ready.”
Kenta bowed deeply, revealing the ponytail at the back of his otherwise bald head. A tall, muscular man, he wore the traditional warrior robes with the sword of the samurai on his belt, along with the ivory-handled laser pistol of the palace guard. The densely interwoven tattoos covering the dark skin of his upper arms proclaimed his rank and status as one of the royal bodyguards.
The hallways of the palace seemed narrow and confining as Katsuichi approached his father’s chambers. Maid-servants in colorful skirts and tall, dark-skinned samurai stepped aside to let him through, bowing as he passed. His mind was so full, he hardly noticed them.
The Emperor’s private chambers were largely empty. Besides a couple of aunts kneeling on the wooden floor and the chief advisor standing against the paneled wall, the room was all but empty. The emperor himself lay in the center of the room on an ornately embroidered futon, blanket pulled up to his frail chest while the thin white hair of his beard trailed down from his bony chin. A medical droid stood off to one side, its insect-like arms retracted, while four recorder bots hovered silently in the corners of the room. Against the far wall, sweet-smelling smoke trailed from a bowl of traditional incense, while a holographic icon of the second Buddha shimmered in the flickering light of the candles immediately below.
“Katsu,” the emperor groaned. Katsuichi stepped forward and knelt by his father’s side, pressing his forehead against the floor in a sign of deep respect.
“Rise,” said his father. “There is … no time for formalities. Only a short while, and you will be … emperor.”
Katsuichi rose and knelt seiza-style on the floor, ankles beneath him with his hands resting in his lap. Kenta bowed with his forehead to the floor and sat similarly next to him.
“My time … has come,” said the emperor, his eyes barely open. “It is time … to name my successor.”
The chief advisor stepped forward and bowed, so that his back was almost horizontal to the floor. A deep and reverent silence filled the room as he slid open the glass case, retrieving the ancient sword within. Chills shot down Katsuichi’s neck, and goosebumps ran down his arms as the advisor set the sword in the dying emperor’s trembling hands.
“Katsuichi, come forward.”
Katsuichi took a deep breath and bowed again, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat up and gently took the sword with both hands, taking special care not to drop it. The gold-inlaid scabbard depicted a cluster of floating cities, their cascading domes protecting the gardens and pagodas of his people from the violence of the storms and waves. The lines of ocean gave way to the stars and planets, with the mighty starships that had carried his ancestors across the starry sea from Gaia Nova—and before that, Earth.
“Draw it, my son.”
Ever so carefully, Katsuichi pulled the sword out of its scabbard. It felt surprisingly light in his hand, the handle fitting so easily to his grip that it seemed like a natural extension of his body. He handed the scabbard to Kenta, who bowed deeply as he took it from him, and ran his finger lightly over the blade. The steel was a dark metallic gray, with an oily sheen over the ancient tempering that had given it its characteristic curve. The hilt was made of polished ivory and jade, and depicted the continents and landforms of Earth, now lost except to legend.
His father gave a satisfactory grunt and lay back against his pillow. “Let it be witnessed,” he said softly, “that when the sun sets on the Imperial city of Fukai-Nami … my son Katsuichi will be the Emperor of Shinihon.”
A thrill shot through Katsuichi’s body, from the back of his neck to the ends of his toes and fingers. His legs went numb, and it was all he could do to sheath the ancient heirloom sword and bow once again. No doubt, the bots in the corners of the room would broadcast holographic recordings of the ceremony across the entire planet, and to the half-dozen super-stations in orbit as well. As he drew himself up, he took care to appear confident and strong—not anxious and inadequate, as he felt.
“Thank you, Father,” he said. “I will do my best to rule as you have done.”
His father nodded and coughed. In his present state, he looked frail enough that a strong wind could carry him away. Strange to think that he had once bounced Katsuichi on his knee. Those days now felt like they had happened eons ago, in another lifetime.
“These are … troubled times,” his father groaned. “I wish I could have left you … under more peaceful circumstances. But we must all … rise to the duties required of us.”
Katsuichi nodded solemnly, pressing his chin against his chest. “I understand,” he said simply.
“The Hameji have conquered … many stars,” his father continued. “For nearly a generation, their specter has … overshadowed us. We owe a great … debt of honor … to the foreign-born warriors … who have defended us. You must repay this debt, Katsu. You must not let it … overshadow us any longer.”
“Yes, Father,” said Katsuichi, his hands trembling in his lap. “I will repay our debt to the off-worlders.”
&n
bsp; “You must do … what I could not. Even though you should lose your life … it is but a small thing. We must never lose … our honor.”
“I will not disappoint you, Father. I promise.”
His father’s lips turned upward in a smile. “Your words warm my soul, little Katsu. I am proud … of you.”
Katsuichi nodded and bowed, as much out of respect as to hide the growing emotion in his eyes. He couldn’t afford to let his people see anything that could be taken as a sign of weakness in the boy that was to be their emperor.
* * * * *
Princess Hikaru sighed as her maid-servants untied the sash around her waist and helped her out of her royal kimono. Such a cumbersome piece of clothing—she loathed every second that she had to wear it. She relaxed a little as her servants helped her into her more casual palace robes, but considering how she was forbidden to go anywhere but her private quarters in them, they were almost as confining. It was all so frustrating, these rules of royal propriety that kept her like a bird in a gilded cage or a blossom in a jewel-studded flower-box.
An icon popped up in the upper-right corner of the holographic mirror, indicating a breaking news story. She tapped it once to bring it onto the main screen, just below the reflection of her face. HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS EMPEROR YAMAMOTO NAMES PRINCE KATSUICHI AS HIS SUCCESSOR, the headline read, complete with an image of her father handing off the royal sword to her subdued and reverent brother. She smiled a little to herself. The news was not unexpected, but it was still exciting to see her big brother finally rising to his place in the kingdom.
Rising in a way she never would.
“My lady,” said one of the maidservants, bowing deeply. “Katsuichi-sama is at the door and wishes to speak with you.”
“Thank you,” said Hikaru. “I’ll see him now.” She left the mirror, adjusting the sash on her own while her servants put her things away.
The wood-panel door slid silently open, revealing her brother, Katsuichi. His face was unusually pale, his expression somber, but he’d come alone and that was all that mattered.
“Katsu!” she said, giving him a smile and a quick hug. “Why so gloomy? Come in, come in!”
He followed her into her quarters and knelt down, seiza-style, on a cushion in front of the low-set table in the center. One of the maid-servants pulled a silver-plated thermos from a compartment in the wall and set it on a tray with two cups for tea. Hikaru nearly tripped over the girl as she took her place opposite her brother, but recovered her balance quickly.
“I heard the news,” she said, kneeling on the cushion across from him. “It’s so exciting—you must be thrilled.”
“Thrilled?” he said, frowning at her. “How can you be thrilled, when our father is dead?”
“Yes, well, that’s really sad of course,” she said, doing her best to swallow her enthusiasm. “But now that he’s gone, that makes you the Emperor of Shinihon and the Thousand Island-cities. How does it feel?”
Katsuichi glanced over his shoulder as the servant placed the tray on the table and left the room. He waited until she was gone before turning back to his sister.
“To be honest, it terrifies me.”
Hikaru threw back her head and laughed. “Terrifies you? What are you talking about? Stop being silly!”
“I’m not being silly,” said Katsu, looking her in the eye. “It’s a heavy burden—a huge responsibility. With the Hameji on the move again—”
“Oh, do we have to talk about the war right now?” she said, rolling her eyes. “All this talk of battles and campaigns can get so tedious.”
“Tedious or not, it’s important, Hika. The only reason we haven’t been conquered like every other system from here to Gaia Nova is because of the Federation. Our samurai are strong, but our starships are no match for the Hameji battle fleets.”
“Yes. Well, I’m sure that whatever it takes, you’ll find a way to protect us.”
Katsuichi bit his lip and nodded. “It’s just—it seems so difficult. I want to save our people, Hika. How can I do that when the odds are stacked so heavily against us?”
She took a sip of her tea and set the cup back down on the table. “By doing your best, Katsu. Why are you so afraid? This is your time! You’re the Emperor of all Shinihon—what is there not to be excited about?”
“The Hameji are not to be underestimated. Before they slagged Gaia Nova—”
“I don’t care. Father fought the Hameji too, didn’t he? And yet, things turned out all right for him. Why not for you too?”
He looked away and shrugged. Hikaru leaned forward with both hands on the table, her heart racing.
“Don’t be so uptight, Katsu. You can do this—I know you can. Back when we used to play tricks on the nurses as children, didn’t you tell me that you dreamed of being the most famous emperor someday? Well, right now, that dream is within your grasp—so seize it!”
“You really think I can?”
“Of course I do!”
Katsuichi looked up at her and smiled. His cheeks were no longer pale, his shoulders no longer slumped. Though he was still the brother she had known growing up, there was something changed about his manner—the difference between a boy and a man.
“You’re right, Hika-chan. I can do this—it’s what I was born to do.”
“Exactly!”
He finished off his tea and rose to his feet. “You should know that I’m leaving in a few hours on the Divine Wind to lead the royal fleet to the battlefront systems. The Hameji are on the move, and I’m not going to stand by and let the Federation fight all our battles for us.”
Hikaru frowned. “Leaving? But you only just became emperor.”
“Father’s advisors can run the domestic affairs better than I can. They’ve been doing it ever since he took ill, after all, and there haven’t been any problems so far. Besides, you’ll still be around to keep them in line.”
“But what about—”
“I’m sorry,” said Katsu, “but I’m not needed here. This war isn’t just about protecting our people—it’s about reclaiming our honor and paying our debt to the Federation. If I don’t do that now, when the Federation needs us most, I’ll be forever branded as a weak and shameful ruler. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Hikaru. She set down her teacup and rose to her feet to see him off.
“One last thing,” said Katsuichi, looking her straight in the eye. “No matter what happens, I want you to be safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to you—understand?”
Hikaru bit her lip and nodded.
“So before I leave, I need you to promise me that you will stay safe here in the palace. Will you promise me?”
She paused, unsure what to say. Her brother’s eyes pleaded with her, however, and she knew that she couldn’t refuse him. She took a deep breath and gave him a parting hug.
“Do your best, Katsu,” she whispered in his ear. “Make Father proud.”
“I will,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Hika.”
As the door slid shut behind him, Hikaru clenched her fists to keep her knees from trembling. Never before had the spotless paneled walls of the Imperial Palace felt so confining.
* * * * *
Katsuichi gripped his cushioned armrests and closed his eyes as the ferry shuttle sped through the upper atmosphere, scramjets roaring as they took him into orbit. The gee-forces pressed him back against his dark leather chair, but despite the loud noise, a deep sense of calm and relief washed through him. After so many months of anxious hand-wringing, events were finally in motion, with a clear set of objectives in sight.
Protect Shinihon. Repay the debt of honor to the Federation. Defeat the Hameji.
The rumbling died down as the shuttle rose through the last few layers of atmosphere. Katsuichi opened his eyes and turned his head to look out the porthole to his right. The clear blue sky had turned pitch black, while far below him the curvature of the planet bent the horizon into a glowing arc. White cloud
s speckled the endless ocean, with massive swirling storms churning toward the equator and seasonal ice floes visible in the far north.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Kenta from the seat behind him. “If you ever start to miss it, young master, just think how it will feel to return victorious.”
“I will,” said Katsuichi, “but my heart will never stop yearning so long as I am gone.”
Kenta patted him on the shoulder with a wide, heavy hand. “Spoken like a proud son of Shinihon,” he said. “You truly are your father’s son.”
His words made Katsuichi smile. Outside, the view shifted as the shuttle banked to maneuver into its final orbit.
The royal fleet lay dead ahead, parked in battle formation at the planet’s main station in anticipation of his arrival. Katsuichi leaned forward in his chair and looked over the pilot’s shoulder to get a better view. The sleek cruisers were shaped like silver daggers, their hulls as smooth as glass. Each one had a pair of sublight engines that glowed a dark blue, the color of the world-ocean reflecting a clear sky at noon.
At the center of the fleet sat the much larger flagship Divine Wind, like a miniature island-city amid a school of silverfish. Unlike the others, it took a prolonged diamond shape, with a bulge in the center that resembled a series of cascading domes from his home. The bridge was at the top of the bulge, with windows stretching 360 degrees around it.
Katsuichi had been on board it only once, during a tour of the fleet in which he’d shadowed his father. He remembered the subtle luxury of the ship, with its arced bulkheads and multiple windows. Originally a royal pleasure yacht, it had been converted into a warship when he was just a boy. Now, it featured multiple redundant jump drives and power reactors, ten rapid-fire laser stars, twin plasma cannons, an arsenal of almost fifty tactical nuclear warheads, and six full squadrons of the latest generation of drone fighter craft. Every square meter, both inside and out, had been thoroughly converted to military use.