The Rebel

by Gerald Brandt

  Everything had changed radically when Kadokawa had used military force to acquire Meridian. Andrew wasn’t pleased with the direction the new Kaijō-bakuryōchō, Sone, was taking them. But what else was to be expected? Kadokawa’s military had grown ever since the last corporate war, and the placement of a new president last year, someone as aggressive as she had proven to be, had created a perfect symmetry at the top of the company. War wasn’t what Andrew had signed up for, wasn’t what many of the men and women under his command had signed up for, but it was now inevitable. He would do his duty to the best of his ability. There was no other choice.

  He heard a quiet tap on the door, breaking him from his thoughts.

  “Come in.”

  The steward opened the door and bowed. “Kaisa Mori is here as requested, sir.”

  Andrew checked the clock on his vid screen. He had lost track of the time. He stood as Mori walked in and offered a firm salute.

  “Welcome Kaisa.” He returned the salute. “Thank you for joining me for breakfast.”

  “Thank you for offering, Kaishō-ho.”

  Andrew walked to a table, already laid out, as his steward bustled in carrying a tray.

  “Please, sit. I have both coffee and gyokuro. I highly recommend the tea. It was handpicked in the shadow of Mount Fuji.”

  Mori bowed again. “Tea would be wonderful, thank you.”

  The steward quickly removed the coffee from the table and fussed with the placement of the cups and utensils. Andrew waved his hand, and the steward faded into the background.

  As Andrew sat, he watched Mori’s posture and motions. The man came from a good family, according to his personnel file, and it showed in his manners. How much of that was his military training was tough to say.

  Andrew poured the steaming water over the tea leaves and let it steep. “I understand you have an interest in twenty-first-century literature.”

  “Yes, Kaishō-ho. I am currently reading The High Mountains of Portugal by a Canadian, Yann Martel. He has some interesting interpretations of Agatha Christie mysteries. I am quite enjoying it.”

  “I have read Agatha Christie, but I’ve never heard of Yann Martel. Perhaps I will look up his works.” He changed tracks. “Your family is currently aboard?”

  “No, Kaishō-ho. I sent my wife and son to visit her mother when you requested nonmilitary staff to leave two weeks ago. They are in Kyoto.”

  “I understand the weather there has been quite warm this year. I hope she does not mind.” He already knew she had left the station. It was a wise move, considering the recent skirmishes. Some of the officers had kept their families here despite his recommendation.

  “Yes, she has always enjoyed the warmer weather.”

  Andrew finished steeping the tea and poured a cup for Mori before filling his own. The steward entered the room, bringing in grilled fish, white rice and steaming miso soup.

  “Any further movement from SoCal this morning?”

  “No, Kaishō-ho. Their fighters held stationary positions. Even when we rotated squads, they made no move to take advantage of the situation. Perhaps they knew it would be pointless.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps they thought the taking of two lives was enough.”

  Mori was instantly contrite. “Of course, Kaishō-ho. Forgive me for being boastful.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. A good Kaisa always believes the best about his troops. A wise one, however, also knows the worst.”

  “Yes, Kaishō-ho.”

  They ate the rest of the meal in silence while Andrew contemplated what to do next. When the final piece of fish was eaten, he stood and walked back to his desk. “Please prepare the pilots for an inspection. Before I get there, I’d like a report on their morale after this morning’s loss.”

  Mori nodded and bowed as the steward opened the door for him. If he was upset about the extra work, nothing showed on his face.

  This man will move far up the ranks, perhaps even above me, Andrew thought. I won’t keep him waiting for long.

  He picked up the pads of the dead pilots and opened up the last page again, jotting down a personal note to the next of kin. It was a small gesture, but one that no doubt would be appreciated.

  PASADENA LEVEL 5—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 10:43 A.M.

  I didn’t stop to think. There wasn’t time. I ran back into the greenhouse and immediately turned the corner, out of Janice’s line of sight. She was right behind me. Training told me I had to take the initiative, or I was in serious trouble. Turning around, I raised my arm and swung it toward the door, aiming for her neck but impacting her high across her shoulders. The shock went right through to my chest and my arm went numb. Janice’s momentum carried her lower body forward and into the air.

  The gun skittered along the gravel path, stopping by the trunk of a tree. I leaped over Janice to try and get to it. Fingers wrapped around my ankle and pulled. I barely had time to twist my body, trying to protect my son, before my back slammed into the path. Kicking with everything I had, my foot impacted on something and I heard her grunt. Her grip loosened. I jerked free and scrambled for the gun again. My hand wrapped around the barrel just as a weight landed on my back, driving me into the ground. I struggled under Janice, bucking her off long enough to roll over.

  She straddled me, her knees pressing down on my chest. Her fist flashed toward my face. I swung the butt of the gun. It glanced off the back of her head and flew from my grip. The hit shifted her weight off me, and I writhed out from under her. She dove for the weapon as I sprinted out the greenhouse door.

  My bike was across the street and behind the café. I dodged a car, forcing myself through the groups walking on the sidewalk, ignoring the angry shouts of the people I weaved between. I careened around the corner and yanked the helmet off the bike’s mirror, jamming it onto my head before unlocking the motor and turning the bike away from the greenhouses. Behind me, I heard more shouting and the high-pitched whine of a motor working hard.

  I twisted the accelerator and the torque of the electrics responded, forcing the bike ahead like an impatient beast.

  In my mirrors, I saw Janice racing up behind me. I locked my rear tire and shifted my weight, kicking out the back end of the motorcycle, aiming for an alley. My headlight cut through the shadows cast by the offset Ambients overhead. Exiting the alley, I pulled on the left handlebar, my knuckles white. The bike leaned right, throwing sparks as the foot peg scraped on the ground and I swerved around another corner. The light from Janice’s bike disappeared from my mirrors for less than a second as she followed me. How had she gotten so close?

  The alley ended on a four-lane road with a wide boulevard separating the oncoming lanes. Across the street, a low curb led to a broad set of stairs that opened to a pedestrian plaza. Stores lined either side of the path, and restaurants, shuttered and closed, still had tables and chairs outside. I had no idea where I was, but trying to weave between the traffic would be bad. A gap opened in the line of cars and I shot across the lanes, hoping the plaza would get me closer to a down-ramp, closer to a part of the city I knew.

  I jumped the curb and rode the bike up the stairs. Tires squealed as drivers slammed on their brakes, trying not to hit me. Adrenaline flushed through my system and I fought it off. I needed to think, not panic. Thankfully, the plaza was fairly empty. The few people walking leaped closer to the buildings as I whipped past.

  I took the next right, barely missing a young mother with a stroller, and stayed on the plaza. Janice’s motorcycle screamed behind me. I had to get off this thing and head southwest, back into Los Angeles and down to a lower level. At the very least, I couldn’t keep racing where people walked. The ramp I’d taken up was out of the question. I didn’t know if it was still being blocked. The military would probably scare off Janice, but I’d be drafted. The thought sent shivers down my spine. Not exactly where I wanted to
be.

  The plaza ended at another short flight of stairs back to street level. I grabbed the brakes. In her desperation to cut me off, Janice didn’t do the same. Out of the edge of my visor, I watched as her bike sped past me, nearly out of control. Her foot slammed on the rear brake, leaving a black smear behind the bike when she saw the stairs. The bike dipped as she pulled on the front brakes. Her back tire lifted off the ground and she took the first step.

  I cut behind her as the motorcycle’s back end rose higher. As I passed, I saw the mixture of fear and concentration on her face. I could tell she didn’t care about me anymore. Not right then. Her bike lifted past the point of no return. Her front tire hopped down another step and the bike began its topple.

  She was going to be in pain.

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 11:27 A.M.

  By the time I got back to Level 2, I’d driven through parts of Levels 4 and 5 I’d never seen before. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was heading in the right direction, skipping several down-ramps until I was sure there wasn’t any chance of being swept up in one of SoCal’s drafts. The ramp I took was on the edge of my old courier territory, an express that skipped Level 3, dropping me into Level 2. I spent most of that ride trying to sort through what had happened, to get my breathing under control. Every time I replayed the event, a new shot of adrenaline kicked in. Where had Janice come from? Had someone taken over for Jeremy, continuing his work? The thought chilled me to my core.

  The rest of the ride was routine, but I still remained more vigilant than I had been. If any of my teachers from the ACE training compound had seen how lax I’d become, they would have kicked my ass from here to San Francisco. Hell, I should do it to myself. I started the regular cycle of looking forward and in each of my mirrors, taking note of the vehicles and people around me, making sure I wasn’t being followed. Stuff they’d taught us at the compound.

  I’d decided to head back to the room the insurgents had given me. I had to let Pat know that Janice was still out there, and still after us. Or at least me. I pulled the bike into the parking garage under the building and found a spot to plug it in.

  As soon as I got up to the main floor, I could smell the wet paper bag odor of porridge cooked past any resemblance to food. Despite the aroma, the thought of food worked. I was starving, and the idea of a bowl of porridge made my mouth water, temporarily pushing away the recent incident with Janice.

  When I saw the dining room was almost empty, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to be in a crowded room. The last few stragglers sat randomly around the area. I managed to grab two bowls before the cooks took what was left. I sprinkled some sugar on top and grabbed a spoon, finding a table in the corner. With my back against the wall, I dug into the first bowl, watching as Pat entered and made a beeline for me. I didn’t think I was in any condition to argue with her if she brought up my pregnancy again.

  “We missed you at breakfast,” she said as she sat across from me. The concern on her face almost made me push the food aside.

  “I went for a ride. Had some stuff I needed to do, to think about.” I could tell she had a ton of questions, but she didn’t ask any of them. Part of me wished she would. Part of me didn’t.

  “I hope it helped,” she said.

  I smiled. “Who’s the we that missed me?”

  “Kai.”

  I stopped, the spoon raised halfway to my mouth and excitement bubbling in my chest. “How’s he doing? Does he have more information for us?”

  Pat took a quick look around to make sure no one had overheard. “I’ll let him answer that. We’ve got a meeting with Jack in a half hour. They want you there. You’ll have time to ask him after that.”

  A meeting? Weeks of doing nothing, being relegated to lookout duty, and now they wanted me in a meeting? Something was going on.

  “They’ll fill you in,” Pat said. She stood up to leave. “It’s good to see you eating.”

  She was obviously fighting herself, wanting to know how I was, if she could help.

  “Stay. Something happened on my ride.” I waited until she settled back in and told her about Janice, leaving out my close call with the SoCal drafting squad. That was for another time. She sat there, staring at the wall for a while, her face blank so I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  “I’ll pass the information on. She was either waiting for you at the greenhouses, which doesn’t really make sense, or she’s been following you for a while. The guards will keep an eye out for her here and at the food lines. Maybe you should stay inside for a while.”

  “Maybe. Thanks.”

  “I’ll come and get you before noon.” She stood and left.

  Neither Pat nor I had been meeting with the upper echelon since we’d gotten here, despite her capabilities as a strategist. Whatever information Kai had brought back with him must have had something to do with me, or I would have been kept out of the loop. I finished my bowl of oatmeal and started in on the second. It had gone cold.

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 11:55 A.M.

  Pat came to my room a few minutes early, and we walked to the stairs. The oatmeal had turn into a solid lump in my gut.

  Two guards stood by the double doors on the main floor. Both had assault weapons. One nodded at Pat and opened the door. As I followed her through, I noticed the safeties were off on the guns.

  This hallway was wider than the ones upstairs and the dark brown carpet was soft under my feet. It was as though we had entered a hallowed place. Sounds were muffled, and the air had the distinctive smell of extra purification. There was even room for a few comfy-looking couches against one wall. I’d seen places like this before. Whoever had set this up tried to make it reflect a high-end corporate conference area. A strange choice for a group of insurgents. A door opened down the hall, and a man I’d never seen before stuck his head out. I figured it was Jack.

  The grapevine had it that Jack was in charge simply because there wasn’t anyone else that could do the job. The top brass had all hopped into a car to watch the water riots personally and been killed for their curiosity. No one thought it had been a true attempt to take out the local insurgent cell though. More like the dumb bastards were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Jack had been pretty low-level, more of a middle manager-type person than a take-charge kind of guy. They say his day job—before all the shit happened—had been the same, just a midlevel worker bee. Deal with the lower-level flunkies, and get permission from higher ups before doing anything.

  Why they didn’t bring someone else in to take over was anybody’s guess. Maybe the insurgents were less organized than they wanted us to believe.

  “Ah! Here they are. We can start.” He held the door open for us as we walked in.

  Seeing Kai, even though I knew he was here, was a shock. His face was thin and haggard, and dark smudges made his eyes appear sunken.

  After we’d buried Ian’s ashes, he’d disappeared. I remember having a conversation with him about Bryson Searls, but after that, he was gone. He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t left a note to say where he was going. He’d knocked on my door a couple of times. I didn’t respond. As much as I wanted to be alone back then, I had wished he’d taken me with him. Disappearing like a ghost sounded like a blessing. But then I wouldn’t have been able to keep my promise to Doc Searls. Not that I really had anyway.

  Kai hobbled across the floor and pulled me into a hug. I fought off the tears and hugged him back. He felt as scrawny as he looked, but his arms were strong.

  “Please take a seat.”

  Kai held out a chair and sat down beside me.

  “It seems I’m the only one in this room you don’t know, Kris. My name is Jack. I’m in charge of this cell in Los Angeles.”

  “Okay,” I said. Jack was a short man, and a little fat. He strutted around the tab
le and sat near the window. I got the impression he didn’t think much of me. I sure as hell didn’t like him.

  “We brought you in on this meeting because of your knowledge and experience in dealing with ACE. Kai?”

  Kai cleared his throat, noticeably uncomfortable in the boardroom-style chair. “I have been in touch with some ACE personnel.” When I twitched in my seat, he spoke faster and focused on me. “No one from the executive, mainly low-level people. Men and women that joined for the same reason you and I did. They are as lost and as hurt as you would imagine, and they are looking for some way to continue the fight.”

  As I could imagine? I guess they’d had the father of their child killed by ACE. I buried the thought. “How do we know we can trust them?” I asked.

  “We’re starting with background checks,” said Jack, “and bringing in people Kai and Pat know personally. We figure that will give us a good first batch. We’ll build a committee that will be dedicated to verifying the others who want to come in.”

  A committee? With the fake leather chairs and the large table, this was starting to sound and feel more and more corporate to me. Did this guy actually know how to do anything except add layers of management and create meeting agendas? My instinct was to run, to get as far away from anything that looked or felt this way. Instead I gripped my legs under the table, steadying myself, trusting Pat and Kai. “Why am I here?”

  “Without a system for vetting applicants, we need to rely on people who worked with them in the past. The first person Kai wants to bring in is someone you’ve met.” He read the paper in his hands. “A Doctor John Searls?”

  “Doc Searls? Yeah, I know him.” Was he here? My stomach churned. What if he let slip that I was pregnant, or that we were looking for his son?

  “Can you vouch for him?”

  “What?” Vouch for him? I barely knew him, really. What I did do though, was trust him.

  “Can you confirm he wasn’t one of the bad apples in ACE?”