by Joe Vasicek
She bit her lip and shook her head, trying to drive the deadly thoughts from her mind. She couldn’t afford the distraction—not if she was going to find what she came for. Any second now—
“Hold on, Asa! Stay close to mommy!”
The familiarity of the woman’s voice pierced Rina’s heart like a knife. The language was not Gaian, Tajji, or Rigelan, but a dialect much more familiar—one that she hadn’t heard since she was a little girl. Her heart skipped a beat, and all other thoughts immediately cleared from her mind.
The footsteps grew louder, until a small boy came stumbling into the courtyard. He was followed by a girl, about six or seven standard years old by the look of it, and a middle-aged couple walking hand in hand. A lump of barely suppressed emotion rose in Rina’s throat.
Mira and Jalil.
Her adult sister wore a long, blue dress and a colorful headscarf, but her face was uncovered so that Rina could see her features clearly. She’d aged over the past several years, but with her bright, honest smile and gorgeous hazel eyes, she still seemed full of life. She smiled at her husband Jalil, and he responded by leaning over and spontaneously kissing her cheek. The gesture filled Rina with a bittersweet longing, and she gripped the knotted bark of the tree that was her hiding place.
“How is Mother doing?” Mira asked as she and Jalil sat down on a bench beneath the ripening grape vines.
“Getting older, I’m afraid,” said Jalil. He sighed. “She misses Tiera something terrible, you know. I’m afraid it will put her in her grave a few years early.”
“Still no word from Tiera, then?”
“No. Though God-willing, that will soon change.”
“God-willing.”
Rina’s lower lip trembled, and her arms began to shake. Out in the courtyard, the boy and girl squatted over the pool, staring with childlike fascination at the goldfish that swam below the surface.
“Issa seems to be doing well, at least,” said Mira. “I heard from his teachers that he loves his art classes, and can’t stop drawing. I wonder if he got that from your side or mine?”
Jalil shrugged. “That reminds me—Aliyah asked for permission to start working on her pilot’s license. She seemed afraid to ask, but I could tell she’s determined. I told her I’d have to talk with you first.”
Mira laughed. “That girl—she’s just like her aunt! I remember how Rina used to stick her head out the caravaneer window and lean into the wind when we were both little girls. She never could get enough of the wide open air on those long rides. It’s a pity she was never old enough to drive.”
A somber silence fell on them both, made all the worse by the darkness of the storm overhead. Rina took a long, sharp breath, and the edges of her vision blurred as if she were staring through a darkened tunnel.
“I wonder where she is right now,” said Mira, her voice subdued. “The way she ran away—I just wish—”
“You did all you could,” said Jalil, putting his arm around her. “There was nothing we could have done to stop her.”
Mira smiled sadly and nodded. “She always did take it hard, the way we lost the others. I think it hurt her a lot worse than it hurt me.”
“It hurt all of us. We did our best to make a new home for her—it’s a wonder she stayed with us for as long as she did.”
“Perhaps,” said Mira, looking off in the distance. “But I still miss her.”
Jalil leaned over and wiped a tear from her eye. “So do I,” he said softly. “So do I.”
Rina’s lip quivered, and her eyes burned until she could no longer hold back the tears. Her shoulders shook, but she swallowed her sobs, not wanting to betray herself. Someday, perhaps, she would be able to step out of the shadows and return to her family—but today was not that day.
As if in confirmation, the datalink implants flashed a message across the bottom of her vision, telling her that she needed to report. She bit her lip and pressed a finger to her temple, putting the message on standby. She was too deep in the field to safely contact her superiors, but getting out wouldn’t be too hard.
Keeping to the shadows, she crept backward into the cloistered patio where the others couldn’t see her. Before leaving, she risked one quick glance back over her shoulder. Mira and Jalil talked in hushed tones on the bench, still holding hands in a picture of love and closeness. Their children shrieked, and Rina hastily slipped through the doorway into the darkened corridor.
Chapter 5
Katsuichi closed his eyes and took a deep, controlled breath. He sat back on his ankles and focused on an image of a water-lily, like those that skirted the edge of the reflecting pool at the Imperial palace. At first, his troubled thoughts rebelled, pulling him away to the worries and cares that had troubled him ever since his father had named him emperor. By controlling his breath and relaxing his muscles, though, he purged his body of stress and cleared his mind from troubled thoughts. In his mind, there was only the lily, with its many-petaled flowers and broad round leaves, floating on water as smooth and clear as glass.
The hiss of a door entered his awareness, as if from a distant memory. Though he could have let it go and continued in his meditative state, his new duties would not allow that. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and saw Kenta, kneeling seiza-style across from him with his hands in his lap.
Katsuichi did not greet him, but turned to the image of his late father, bowed with his forehead pressed to the floor, and rose to prepare some tea. That was one of the things about starship command that he relished: no room for servants or other extraneous luxuries. Here, unlike in the palace, he shared a degree of equality with his men that was impossible to replicate elsewhere. He set the tray on the table and poured a cup for Kenta from the decorative thermos before taking his seat. When he was finished, Kenta bowed courteously and poured a cup for him.
“Katsuichi-sama,” said Kenta, gently returning the thermos to the tray. “I trust that your adjustment to the Divine Wind has gone well?”
“Very well,” said Katsu, taking a sip of his tea. “Our rendezvous with Commander Hideyoshi has put everyone in good spirits. Morale is high, and our officers are eager to see action. I observed their exercises just this morning shift.”
Kenta nodded, the edges of his mouth turning upward in the barest hint of a smile. “You seem to be doing quite well.”
“I hope so, Kenta. Our men are strong and brave, but without the right kind of leader, I fear we will break apart like an ice floe in a springtime eddy.”
“Indeed. That is why I wish to speak with you.”
Katsuichi raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“None of us questions your leadership, Your Imperial Highness. If you ordered us to charge into Hell itself, we would do so and do so gladly. However, not all wars are fought on the battlefield alone. I have reason to believe that the highest ranks of the Federation have been infiltrated by our enemies.”
“And what makes you say that?” Katsuichi asked, frowning.
“The commander of the battle group at the head of the rift,” said Kenta, “is a New Velan colonel by the name of Carl Webb. Before the Hameji wars, he was involved in a smuggling ring that trafficked in drugs and black market goods between New Vela and Shinihon.”
“And you have proof of this?”
“Your Highness,” said Kenta, bowing slightly, “the snake was very adept at evading our legal team. Your father, however, used his authority to confiscate all of the Webb family’s assets within our territory.”
Katsuichi nodded. “So there is some bad blood between us.”
“More than that, Katsuichi-sama. Many of Colonel Webb’s subordinate officers are pardoned convicts, and we have reason to believe that he still has extensive ties in the criminal underworld that now permeates the Federation. Some of us even believe he may be the one behind the recent assassination of Admiral Genjiro.”
“Admiral Genjiro?” said Katsuichi, looking up at once. “What makes you believe that?”
“
The colonel is an extremely ambitious man, young master. Time and again, he has proven himself a brilliant strategist—not only on the field of battle, but in removing all potential rivals who stand in his path. Those who have not been demoted have been sent to battlefront systems, where many of them have never been heard from again. Even the colonel’s own brother had his rank stripped from him.”
Katsuichi clenched his fists and nodded slowly, staring at the floor. “These are serious accusations,” he said after several moments of thoughtful silence. “It would be difficult for our forces to fight alongside his, if they believed I distrusted him.”
“That is true.”
“Are there any other Federation fleets at the head of the rift? Or has this man assumed command across the entire front?”
Kenta gave him a short bow. “Your question strikes at the heart of the matter, Katsuichi-sama. Colonel Webb is the highest ranking field officer, and his fleet is the only one in a position to strike the Hameji. If we join forces with another fleet, we will most likely fall into the reserve.”
Katsuichi took a deep breath and nodded. You must repay this debt of honor, Katsu, his father’s words came to him. You must not let it overshadow us any longer.
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to invite him onto my ship and meet him.”
Kenta frowned. “Invite this criminal on board the Divine Wind? Your Highness, in all humility, I must advise against it.”
“Thank you, Kenta, but when fighting a snake, the surest way to defeat it is to seize it by the head.”
“Indeed, Katsuichi-sama,” said Kenta, bowing again. “Though remember, this is not just a garden snake you are playing with—it is a fully grown viper, with the power to kill.”
“Thank you, Kenta. I’ll keep that in mind.”
* * * * *
Hikaru could barely contain her excitement as the ferry shuttle blasted off into the upper atmosphere. Her knees quivered with excitement, but she stared at the seat in front of her and made sure not to make eye contact with any of the other passengers in the cabin. They were packed shoulder to shoulder in the tightest seating arrangements she’d ever seen, with barely enough room in the aisle to turn around. It was fascinating—was this the way ordinary people lived and traveled? A baby screamed in the distance, and someone behind her muttered a rude word under his breath that would have earned a scolding back in the palace. She giggled a little, unable to hold it in.
Behind her, the roar of the engines died down to a low whine, and the invisible hand that had pressed her against her seat slowly released her from its hold. She risked a glance across her neighbor’s lap out the porthole, and saw, to her astonishment, a sky as black as night, even though she knew it was day.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the pilot’s voice over the intercom. “We have just left the planet’s atmosphere and are preparing to enter orbit. Please remain in your seats as our local gravitics equalize.”
Hikaru’s stomach fluttered, and a brief wave of nausea washed over her. She noticed her bangs drift upward as if they were as light as air, and realized that she was weightless. It didn’t last long, however. A new hum sounded in the bulkheads, and the comforting sensation of gravity returned.
I wonder what Katsuichi is going to think once he hears that I’m gone, she thought to herself. That was her one regret—that he would probably worry himself sick about her. But surely he had to see that she couldn’t spend her whole life in the palace. And besides, it wasn’t like she was going to be gone forever.
She didn’t have much time, though—she wanted to experience as much as she could before she went back. And if she was going to get the most of her time away, she had to seek out the things that her tutors and nurses would never let her see—dirty things, vulgar things. Things that a princess would never get to do.
One thing was certain: She had to go somewhere where no one would recognize her. Would the New Vela system do? Probably. She reached into her apron pocket and fingered the passport datachips she’d taken from her maidservants—at most, she only had a couple of days before the palace guard caught on to her ruse. She’d have to take an interstellar transport before then, or perhaps hire a smuggler to take her in secret. A smuggler—the thought of meeting such a shady person made her hands quiver even more.
“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. This is the pilot again. We’ve entered a low planetary orbit and should match trajectories with the station in little less than half an hour. Gravitics are fully online now, and you are free to move about the cabin. On behalf of myself and all the crew, I wish to thank you for choosing Shinihon Spacelines as your orbital carrier today.”
The passenger on Hikaru’s right got up and squeezed past her into the aisle, presumably to go to the restroom. She took advantage of his absence to look out the window. The horizon bent into a glowing blue arc where the planet met the darkness of space. In the distance, little specks glistened against the velvety black backdrop. She realized with a start that there were other spacecraft, moving around in orbit with them. With the bright white storm clouds covering the planet’s surface, it was a sure thing that Fukai-Nami had submerged by now, but that was okay—she didn’t miss it. Everything around her was so new and exciting, she doubted she ever would.
* * * * *
Katsuichi stood in the center of the bridge, hands comfortably behind his back as he observed the dozen or so officers working at their stations ringing the edge of the room. The stars shone down with their soft light through the domed windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving him an unparalleled view of the exterior of the ship. As he watched, a flight wing of squat, ugly-looking gunboats made a slow pass around the sleeker Rigelan cruisers.
“Colonel Webb’s shuttle has docked,” said one of his officers. “Your orders, sir?”
“Direct him to the main briefing room,” said Katsuichi. “I’ll meet him there shortly.”
He turned and walked off of the bridge, Kenta following close behind. As he palmed open the door, he couldn’t help but notice that Kenta’s sword was partially drawn, with half an inch or so of bare steel showing. He gave his bodyguard a puzzled look, as if to ask what was the matter.
“I don’t trust him,” the old samurai muttered. Katsuichi nodded and stepped out the door.
The windowless briefing room was directly below the bridge, near the center of the ship. Decorated in the same ancient style as the Imperial palace, it featured paneled walls and an authentic wooden floor. The Imperial heirloom sword sat in a glass display at the head of the room, before a giant glass table ringed by almost two dozen plush leather chairs. A holographic projector sat in the middle of the table, while display screens in the walls listed the status and location of each Rigelan flight group, with organizational charts showing the line of command down to every fighter wing and gunboat. Except for the two of them, the room was empty.
Katsuichi walked over to the main doors opposite the table, and waited in silence, taking advantage of the brief moment to meditate. Footsteps sounded out in the corridor, making Kenta grunt. He opened his eyes, and the doors hissed open, revealing a man in an immaculate blue uniform flanked on either side by junior officers.
Colonel Webb was tall by Rigelan standards—almost a full head taller than Katsuichi, though Kenta was much larger overall. His features were rugged, his sharp chin and square jawline only slightly softened by a few days worth of brownish-blond scruff. His deep-set eyes were a dark blue, his golden hair trimmed short with a well-groomed mustache just below his nose. As his gaze fell on Katsuichi, his lips turned up in a keen smile, and he bent at the waist in a polite bow, following it with a sharp Federation salute.
“Your Imperial Highness,” said Colonel Webb, speaking in Gaian. “I trust your voyage to the rendezvous point was agreeable?”
“As much as is expedient in a time of war,” said Katsuichi, returning the salute. “Please, have a seat.”
Colonel Webb followed him into the room and sat oppo
site the head of the table, flanked on either side by his junior officers. They said nothing, their faces dark and impassive. From the way the colonel declined to introduce them, Katsuichi assumed they were underlings performing their assigned duties.
“I’m familiar with the deployment schedule and have read up on all the reports I could find,” said Katsuichi, taking his place at the head of the table. “Of course, I trust you have a clearer picture of the situation. What can you tell me?”
Colonel Webb frowned and looked down at his lap, as if to apologize. The gesture made Katsuichi raise an eyebrow.
“To be honest, Your Highness, our forces were about to retreat before you came. Our position here is too close to the Hameji to be tenable, and with Federation High Command split the way it is, we’ve received no clear directive other than to secure the battlefront stars.”
“No clear directive? Couldn’t that be taken to mean that they wish to leave discretion to their officers in the field?”
“It certainly could, Your Highness,” said the colonel, his voice smooth and deferential. “However, the fleet commanders in this sector are indecisive about which course of action to take. Many of them are ambivalent about the prospects of success, and advise taking a more, shall we say, muted approach.”
Katsuichi frowned. “But Eyn-Gatta is less than five parsecs from New Vela,” he said. “If we can’t head off the Hameji here, there’s nothing to stop them from entering the rift and pushing straight through.”
“And if we are defeated, Your Highness, there will be even less to hold them back.” Though Colonel Webb spoke with a soft, flattering voice, it was clear he didn’t think that an attack was a good idea.
“With all due respect, Colonel, we can’t retreat forever. My men have come here to fight, not stand idly by as we lose more territory to the invaders.”