V 07 - The Alien Swordmaster

by Somtow Sucharitkul (UC) (epub)

  “But nothing’s normal!” Theresa, Sam’s wife, moaned. “Police not coming to investigate Anne’s death, no coronei; no nothing—-nobody interested!”

  “How are we even going to get to Japan?” Tomoko said. “If the evidence really does point to some plot that has its origins there. You know I had to wait months for clearance to leave Tokyo. I’ll bet CB doesn’t even have a passport. Matt, have you been out of the country since the invasion? I’ll bet no one has.”

  “I guess I never thought about that,” Matt said, beginning to regret his hasty yes and hoping against hope there would be a way out. “What are we supposed to do, call up TWA at LAX and book a flight? I don’t even have enough left on my credit cards for all four of us.” “How can you think of credit cards at a time like this?” Tomoko said.

  “We will not leave from LAX,” said Sugihara suddenly, using the common nickname for Los Angeles’ largest international airport. Everyone looked up to where he was standing; his voice, though exceptionally quiet, radiated that kind of authority. “There is only one official plane a week to Tokyo. The Japanese government has decided to close its borders, for mysterious reasons all its own. Only a few are allowed to take the weekly transport. There are no scheduled commercial flights like in the days before the invasion.”

  He stepped away from the video game machine. Apparently CB had been showing him the trick with the game. He was impressive in the dingy diner The dim light striped his face with shadow and the metal fiber in his samurai costume glowed. How on earth, Matt wondered, had a man dressed like this managed to materialize in a shopping plaza in suburbia without exciting any comment? Downtown, on the Boulevard, now, that was another mattei; but Haataja and L.A. were like different universes.

  “There are things I know about the Visitors that I was able to glean during my captivity,” Sugihara said. “I know, for example, that one of the Visitors’ most brilliant scientists—Fieh Chan himself, it is rumored—designed a thermal molecular pressure skin, a semi-organic, extremely thin and pliable body sheath that can be worn by Visitors, is invisible, and is impermeable to the red dust. I have heard, also, that for some reason I cannot exactly establish, the supply of these pressure skins is short. They are malleable and flexible enough when not mistreated, but can be punctured fairly easily. This is fatal.”

  “That explains what I found on the one I killed last night,” Matt said.

  “I also know that a number of saurian agents have come to America; that they have a base right here in Orange County at John Wayne Airport.”

  “That airport’s been closed ever since ... the invasion!” Tomoko said. “It’s still closed.”

  “Precisely,” Sugihara said.

  There was such serenity in his face. Matt couldn’t understand it, didn’t like it. And what was this between the old man and his wife? Had they met before in Japan? And how had he so bewitched the kid? It had taken Matt months to win him over. Resentment flooded his mind. “How the hell do you know so much about these damn aliens?” Matt demanded. “Tell me, if you know so much, who’s this alien swordmaster they keep sending me telegrams about?”

  “I could not tell you,” Sugihara said. “It is a mystery.” “How do I know you’re not a collaborator or even worse?”

  Tomoko said, “For God’s sake! The man just saved your life, Matt.”

  “I don’t like any of it.”

  “You have given your word, Matt Jones, that you will join in an expedition to find the cause of these disappearances, possibly to rescue your friends and colleagues.” “Is that what I’ve done?” Matt said. “I agreed to no such thing! I was confused. I . . .’’He stopped, flustered.

  “I give you my word as a swordmaster that I am not your enemy, Matt Jones.”

  “What if you are working for the—the things'? Then your word won’t be worth a nickel!”

  “That is a risk you will have to-take. Just as I take it of you, who have given your word to come with me.”

  “I suppose ...”

  “We’ll go,” Tomoko said.

  “What about Anne’s funeral?” Matt said with a twinge of desperation.

  “We take care funeral,” said Sam. “You have much pain in your heart, Matt. It is good you go. You must wash away pain. Believe old Sam. I think Anne want you go. Because she die fighting them.”

  “I have a plan,” Sugihara said. “I cannot implement it alone. Tomorrow we will go down to the John Wayne Airport. A Visitor craft, one of the few yet remaining on this planet, is there. They have been using it to transport certain—”

  “You mean Rod Casilli? and Kunio Yasutake? and Lex

  Nakashima? and Jonathan Kippax and all the other grand masters?” Matt said.

  “I fear so.”

  “Go on.”

  “1 have been able to ascertain that this Visitor craft will be departing Orange County tomorrow, en route to Tokyo. The Visitors have been gathering certain—what they euphemistically refer to as ‘raw materials.’ We can be on that craft. I believe that I can bluff my way on board. I am familiar enough with their ways so that I can pretend to be one of them.”

  “And us?”

  “You will have to be my prisoners, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s a trick!” Matt said. “You are working for them. You’ve got to be!”

  Sugihara stood very erect; his face betrayed no emotion at all.

  “What have we got to lose?” Tomoko said.

  “That’s a fine thing to say!” shouted Matt. “We’ve a lot to lose! Our business. Our shirts. Our lives. Each other” “You do not trust me?” said Sugihara.

  “No! I mean why the hell should I? You barge into my life, you steal the affections of my wife and kid—”

  “So insecure, my friend?” said Sugihara. “I am so sorry. It is as your friend Sam has said: you carry too much pain in your heart. The way of Zen is not for all men, yet—Matt, please believe that I am not your enemy. Neither do I covet what is yours. The world—this entire planet, the lives of billions—the world is at stake!”

  “The world,” Matt repeated tonelessly. He knew he was just arguing for the sake of arguing; somehow or another they were all going, they were all going on this wild adventure.

  He had given his word, hadn’t he?

  They didn’t bother to go home that night; they just sacked out on exercise mats in the large and echoey main gymnasium of the Institute. They’d all made noises about going home and preparing for the journey; in the end they had been afraid to leave the building at night, afraid to encounter more of the ninja-garbed assailants.

  Matt couldn’t sleep. He got up, started to pace the corridor outside the hall, where Sugihara sat, his eyes closed, in a meditative position. Matt couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. In the half dark there was a strange luminous pallor to his skin, almost as though it had been laminated, dipped in plastic. Could he be one of them? Why was he helping Matt and the others if not to lead them into an insidious trap?

  He thought he heard a toilet flush; crept along the wall to take a look; saw Tomoko. “Can’t sleep either?” she said.

  “I don’t trust him!” he whispered.

  “I understand. But, I don’t know why, I just do.”

  “Did you know him before? In Tokyo, I mean. How was he able to track us down like this? How did he manage to find us just in the nick of time? You do know him, don’t you? I saw the way you two looked at each other.” His jealousy came through again, he couldn’t help it.

  “I swear I’ve never seen him in my life,” Tomoko said with such forcefulness that Matt knew she could not be lying to him. Tomoko had never been good at lying. Often, before their separation, it had been her inability to tell him comfortable lies that had infuriated him so much. And she had always had good instincts about people. He remembered that it was on her say-so that he’d hired Anne, who had turned out to be much more trustworthy than anyone he’d hired on his own.

  “Oh, Matt, I do love you,” she said softly.
>
  “Yes. I do need to hear that.” Only when he said it did Matt realize it for the first time. “I’m going off God knows where to fight God knows what. Oh, Tomoko ...”

  They kissed. So much remembered passion was in that kiss. . . .

  “Let’s make love,” he urged.

  “Now? Here?” She laughed, a gentle, loving laugh. Suddenly—

  He pricked up his ears. “Someone’s in the office, talking.”

  “Shh. Yes. Let’s investigate.”

  “No, you stay, I’ll go.”

  “Together; Matt. From now on, always together” She’s changed too, Matt thought. It’s not just me. We’re both trying so much harder.

  They tiptoed into the outer office. The door of the inner office was ajar There was a light on inside.

  A little boy’s voice: “No . . . I can’t tell you where I’m going, Mia. It’s like a secret, you know?”

  “Who’s Mia?” Tomoko whispered.

  “His girlfriend,” Matt said, grinning.

  “At his age?”

  “Kids.”

  “Listen.”

  “. . . I mean like it’s really big stuff and the phone might be bugged. If I don’t see you for a while, it’s casual, you know? Like I still like you. Hey. Oh, I found out something about ‘Galaga?’ Player one like turns over at a million minus one points, but there’s extra spaces in front of the scoring line for player two, so like if you play doubles you can get totally boned on player one and then you won’t turn over until a billion minus one so you can really jam, you know? Like totally rad.”

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Tomoko asked in amazement.

  “Beats me,” Matt said.

  CB paused; he must have heard them whispering outside. “Hey, later Like my ’rents want me to go now.” “His ’rents?” Tomoko said. “He’s playing landlord?” “Shh,” Matt said. “I think this is CB’s equivalent of a mushy farewell scene.”

  “Oh.”

  They tiptoed away.

  * * *

  The van—which bore the logo of Matt’s Institute—pulled up to a barricade at the airport. It was not quite dawn. Sugihara was driving. It turned out that he had a car parked in the lot of the Institute: a Ferrari, no less. That was how he had appeared so quickly. What a mess of contradictions the man was. In the morning he had pulled a little overnight bag out of his back seat, gone into the bathroom at the Institute, and reemerged wearing a Visitor uniform! Tomoko had screamed.

  “Relax,” he had said mildly. “I stole it.” Then he had gone on to explain his plan. . . .

  Matt, Tomoko, and the kid had had to submit to being tied up. Then packed into the van. And then, with considerable misgivings, Matt had turned over the keys of the van to Sugihara.

  “Arigato gozaimashita,” the old man had said, bowing stiffly. “Now—you must act defiant, and perhaps a little frightened.”

  And they had driven off.

  A man (man?) in the parking lot booth gave them only a cursory glance before admitting them. “You seem to know the way a little too well,” Matt said suspiciously.

  He looked out of the window and saw a bronze statue of John Wayne. He remembered the day they’d put up that statue and renamed the Orange County airport after a genuine American hero. My hero, Matt thought, remembering images out of his childhood. What would the Duke have done in my position? The light of the encroaching dawn caressed the statue; it shone, red-gold, like a beacon of hope.

  “Who’s that fat guy?” said CB.

  “Damn kids! Don’t know anything anymore. That, my boy, is a real hero—a real man!”

  CB shrugged, and Matt wondered if he was getting too old.

  They drove past an open gate—unattended—onto a runway. Matt saw it then: a sleek, streamlined craft—a skyfightei; they called it on the newscasts.

  Two or three guards were walking back and forth, patrolling.

  Sugihara stopped the car.

  “I have the prisoners,” he said.

  “Shi-i-it,” CB whispered.

  Matt’s heart started pounding.

  “All right.” Sugihara said in a raspy whisper, “start acting the way I told you.”

  “I’m not acting!” Matt said. “You really tricked us, didn’t you? I know your kind wouldn’t be above expending a few lizards as a ruse to capture me.”

  “Silence!” Sugihara got out of the car. “Put these humans on board the skyfighter!” he commanded the guards.

  “Trickster!” Matt hissed.

  The guards stared at them. “We received no orders about prisoners,” one began. “The other shipments have been ready for some time. Wait a minute, you’re not the usual copilot!”

  Sugihara transfixed him with a penetrating, hypnotic stare. The guard seemed to cringe. “Yes, master;” he said abjectly. What was all that about? Then those outside walked out of earshot and Matt could hear, vaguely, that they were conversing rapidly and angrily. That was odd. Matt stored the memory in his mind, adding it to his suspicions.

  The van door slid open. Matt was pulled roughly out and pushed up a little ramp into the skyfighter. They went down for Tomoko and CB, who struggled and made a lot of noise as they were shoved down beside Matt.

  Matt looked around. The cargo was bizarre. There were cages full of rhesus monkeys, who whimpered and gazed sadly from side to side. There were bundles of books, some in the angulai; incomprehensible alien script. There were cartons labeled with the polysyllabic names of organic chemicals, with the logo of a prominent pharmaceutical factory on them. There were rolls of what looked like clear acetate sheets.

  Matt heard a brief whirring sound; then they took off.

  After a while Tomoko said, “I’m sorry, Matt. I was wrong, I guess.”

  They were silent for a long time.

  The skyfighter moved very smoothly. Even though he was uncomfortably tied up, Matt could hardly tell they were in motion. He could hear voices, but could not tell if they were human or if they had that harsh Visitor quality.

  At last Sugihara came aft.

  “Well, thank you for getting us killed,” Matt said.

  Without a word, Sugihara started to untie them. “Whoa!” Matt began.

  Tomoko gave him an I-told-you-so look. CB grinned like an idiot. Sugihara put a finger to his lips.

  Matt made a sign to the other two to wait there, then he and Sugihara crept forward. The two captors were relaxing at the control console. Matt and Sugihara rushed forward and simultaneously dealt them two karate chops. A single thud resounded in the small cabin. The two slumped forward. Sugihara’s victim began to wheeze and emit the now familiar but still sickening sound as the toxin entered his body. However, the one Matt had struck just lay motionless. His face stayed exactly the same.

  “He was a human being,” Sugihara said.

  “A human!—”

  “A collaborator.”

  Anger—

  “He could not help himself, Matt. Be compassionate. He was converted. He never had a choice after they entered his mind and stole his very soul from him.” He had already begun methodically to undress the Visitor heedless of the sticky rheum that dripped from what had been his body. “Quick, Matt. You must take the clothes off yours.”

  The prone human stirred.

  “Hit him again!”

  “I’ve never killed a human being,” Matt said.

  “This is a wai;” Sugihara said. He reached over and deftly snapped the man’s neck with a single blow. “Now take his uniform.”

  Matt obeyed sullenly.

  “There are bins aft that may contain laser rifles,” Sugihara said. “Maybe some of them are charged up, although they’ve been able to do less and less of that lately. Quick, we’ll have to toss the bodies.”

  “Where?” Matt asked.

  “In the Pacific,” Sugihara said, pointing at the view-screens that surrounded them. Matt saw the ocean—serene, cloud-kissed, beautiful. “By the way, does anyone know how to fly one of these things
?”

  “I do.” Tomoko had come out of the back. She now moved to the console and sat calmly down as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  “Where’d you learn to—” Matt began.

  “Now this,” said Tomoko, “is the altimeter That’s the fuel gauge.”

  “You’re joking.” Matt stared open-mouthed.

  “No, darling. This is just a little something I picked up while 1 was trying to avoid being raped, killed and eaten.” “God, I feel like a useless appendage,” Matt said. “I mean, here I am, twenty thousand feet above sea level. A samurai who looks like he’s stepped out of a Kurosawa movie has concocted this outlandish plan, my wife has somehow learned to fly alien spacecraft, my kid—” “Can cream you at ‘Galaga’ blindfolded,” CB finished for him as he came out of the hold. “Hey, Sugihara-san, what’s all that junk in the back for?”

  “I would guess that the rhesus monkeys, being similar to humans, might have something to do with experiments? And the chemicals and things: something to do with the production of the pressure skins.”

  “I still think you know too much. I still think you’re pretty damn suspicious,” Matt said, although he was starting to like the fellow a lot more now that the plan was becoming more clear “So now I guess we land at Tokyo airport and go in and report to the Japanese underground, and then start kicking ass? That’s who you’re working foi; isn’t it? The Japanese underground. Stands to reason.”

  “I cannot say,” Sugihara said enigmatically.

  On the whole, Matt was coming to the conclusion that Sugihara’s eccentricities were just that, eccentricities. Obviously the man had a very rich and full fantasy life and enjoyed role-playing. Well, if he wanted to act out a role in a costume epic, let him. As long as he got results.

  They spent some time lugging the human corpse and the limp saurian remains aft and flushing them into the air; packing the uniforms away in backpacks that they found in the equipment bins; testing the laser guns and rifles in order to find some that still worked.