As a boy, Mamoru had sifted through the topography of cyberspace until he found the point. The last time he visited, he was nine, but everyone there thought he was a grown man playing a child. Surely, a simple boy could not have found the place. One had to be eighteen to get implants, and no one using a senshelmet could be good enough to teleport. He doubted anyone would remember him.
With a thought, he appeared a step inside the door. Numerous denizens stopped in mid-conversation to evaluate the samurai armor now floating in their world. His avatar seemed mundane by comparison to some: soldiers, spies, superheroes, a nude elf woman, space aliens, medieval knights, and several anthropomorphic animals ranging from humans with cat ears to full-on bipedal dogs. Everyone stared at him only long enough for an opinion on his avatar to form on their faces before resuming their various activities.
Ahead and left, a topless medusa tended the bar. On the other side, down a short flight of stairs, a dance floor flashed and throbbed with lights and music. Right of the bar, a passage led to an area lifted out of a milieu of entertainment vids. Most of the avatars congregating there seemed to be rabid fans of one space vid series or another.
He glided to the medusa, but disregarded her once he realized she was a program. A drunken mutter emanated from the people near that side of the room. Recreational softs stimulated the same neurons as alcohol, creating a sense of inebriation that lingered as long as a person remained plugged in. Mamoru took the passage to a room designed in the image of a nonexistent starship’s interior. No one that caught his eye seemed like a reliable source of information.
“New faces… or the lack thereof, are rare here.”
The woman’s voice came out of nowhere, silky and alluring.
“I am looking for someone,” said Mamoru as he whirled around.
Golden eyes glimmered with unearthly light, set in a face of dark crimson. White fangs flashed through an impish smile. Draconic wings flexed as she studied him, accompanied by the swishing of a long, thin tail tipped with an onyx barb. A few scraps of tattered black leather clung with no apparent support over her breasts. The rest of her clothing consisted of a loincloth no wider than a hand, draped over a silver chain belt. Aside from the dark red skin, her features looked European.
Mamoru frowned at cute little horns protruding from her temples. “Your subroutine is ineffective on me, woman. Your software cannot affect the pleasure centers of my brain.”
With a demure glance to the side, she stepped back. “I am Naamah, and this is my home.”
“Your name is not unfamiliar to me. Word of your elusiveness has reached even Japan.”
“Yet I know nothing of you.” She looked him up and down. “You do not even seem to exist here.”
“That is because I have instructed the system to disregard me.”
Naamah’s eyes gleamed, excitement tinged with anger. “No one has ever been able to defeat my security protocols before. Who are you?”
“I am”―he hesitated. He expected this woman to be foreign due to her use of English, and spoke his name in western order―“Mamoru Saitō.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s it, no fancy nickname? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you.” Black clawed fingernails scraped down his chest in a playful swipe.
He caught her wrist and concentrated. Naamah’s smile lasted a few seconds before she tried to pull back, but could not get away.
“You are linked to four decks simultaneously, which you have arranged in a multiprocessing cluster. A Titan Alchemist for your soft storage, a Nishihama Berserker, grade 9… Most impressive. The other one”―Mamoru’s empty helmet tilted upward, his body not moving despite the succubus jerking at her arm―“NinTek Netspider, and a Vostochnaya Proizvodstva Oboroten.”
She stumbled away as he let go. Anger burned in her eyes, but her mouth hung open with fear.
“VP does not export its hardware outside of the ACC, even to neutral nations. Between that and the route path your signal is taking, I’m going to say you’re located somewhere near Chernobyl but routing through Moscow, Warsaw, and Helsinki to mask your trail. Resistance?”
Terror won the battle for her face.
Mamoru held up a hand. “I do not wish to bring discord to your life. The quarrel you have with your government is none of my concern.”
“How the fuck did you do that?” Her claws extended several inches to dagger blades, while her tail thrashed side to side. “It would have taken me at least ten minutes of hammering to get through one of my barriers.”
“I did not break through your barriers, Inna Markov,” he whispered. “I became them. Check for yourself. You will find no trace of my passage.”
“What are you? An AI? A Sage?”
“I am neither. Several days ago, someone breached the network of Matsushita Electronics using the avatar of a gold-armored angel.” Mamoru held out his hand. A six-inch tall version of the entity from his dojo appeared above his palm, spinning. “In the same way that you do not see my presence here, I was unable to find his. I was unaware that there were others who possess my gift.”
Naamah let her claws shrink back to fingernails. “You just invaded my systems in seconds and know more about me than anyone else in the entire GlobeNet. What is it you think I can help you with?”
“I traced the signal to the interplanetary relay. I believe he may be on Mars. My abilities in this place are not like yours. I do not possess the same degree of technical knowledge. Machines do what I ask them. Is it possible for someone to do such a thing over so great a distance and remain a threat?”
“So you are the one that’s caused all the fuss in the land of the rising sun? Your former boss is quite upset. There are a lot of credits looking for you.” She circled him, tracing her tail around his leg. “Pleasant Evening coffin motel? You’re not so far from home.” Her eyes narrowed as she made her way around and stopped in front of him. “I can help you if you promise to return the favor should I need it.”
“If your request is honorable, I will help you.”
Naamah’s tail caressed the inside of his thigh. “You are correct. The latency on an interplanetary link would make GlobeNet infiltration and combat impossible. I know of a technique to ghostscript a session and prepare an attack in advance. It is quite difficult to pull off as the user would have no indication that anything on the target network changed between when they took the copy and when they transferred the infiltration routine to an Earth-side server and ran it.”
“So you are saying this person did not have a real-time link?”
She guided him out of the center of the room, one hand on his arm. A high tech starship door parted with a hiss, revealing a hallway made of dark grey stone―something out of a medieval castle. Naamah ducked into a shaded alcove with a pair of skeletons hanging by manacles. She wound her arms through dangling chains and grasped them, mimicking being shackled.
The samurai armor clicked as he folded his arms. “I do not find your display attractive.”
“Are you Japanese, or dead?” She let go of the restraints and pouted.
“I know you are not as you appear to be, and I do not care for weakness.”
“What’s her name?”
Mamoru glanced to the side.
“Ahh, so there is a girl.”
“It is too early to derive truth from manipulation. However, that is none of your concern. Where can I find this golden angel?”
One fang, ivory against crimson, poked out of her mouth as she bit her lip. “There is only one person I know of who is both skilled enough to compromise your network from Mars and has an affectation for the angelic. He calls himself Raziel, after the heavenly keeper of secrets. He has done many things within the net that people thought impossible. Are you sure you are as unique as you claim?”
“Indeed. Where on Mars can I find him?”
“Remember you said you would help me.” She leaned toward him with an aggressive wave.
“I admire the way you alter y
our affect to render yourself tempting. I apologize if my nature frustrates you. Yes, I will help you if there is honor in your request.”
Naamah sighed and hooked her thumbs through her chain belt. “I’m not exactly sure. Couple of months back, things got shitty in Kiev and I tried to reach out to him. Most of the MarsNet doesn’t even believe he exists.” She leaned around him, peering at a man in a white suit in the ‘starship.’ He appeared to be made entirely of bronze, with visible gears turning about inside him. “Ooh, gotta go. An important friend is here. He does exist, I’m sure of it, but all I can tell you is that some of his outbound connections were marked with a locator of Araphel. That must be important.”
She slipped away, sashaying over to the bronze man. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, his aristocratic expression melted to a dopey grin. Mamoru shook his head as her software tweaked the pleasure centers of the man’s brain.
“Araphel?” Mamoru glanced at the ceiling. “Well then, Raziel. It is time for us to meet in person.”
Pursuit
reating a boarding pass for a Mars-bound shuttle was an easy diversion between leaving Apex Horizon and logging out. The difficult part fell somewhere between accepting the concept of leaving Earth and making it to the launch platform within the NSK region of Shōrishima. Mamoru had little doubt that Minamoto had arranged a contract with them for his elimination. Aside from facilitating trade between a dozen fragmented, warring prefectures and the outside world, assassination was their leading service. Traveling to their territory would all but guarantee an incident.
He hoped the shuttle’s in-flight food would be tolerable.
With his blade under his coat and his deck slung over his shoulder, he left the coffin motel and walked for several blocks. The early evening air was crisp, carrying the fragrance of the ocean as well as the squeaky voice of the pink-haired anthropomorphism of the latest Yume Koujou video game console, projected from an advert bot. Forty feet above, an enormous holographic anime teen waved and greeted her fans. Mamoru moved in a brisk zigzag, weaving through the crowd at a speed sufficient to foul the aim of any sniper looking for him.
The closer he got to the business district of Sapporo, the thicker the streets were with people. Perfume, sweat, and the occasional drift of food mixed with the metallic flavor of hovercar downdraft. Less traditional than most of Japan, the Yoshida-Nakano Corporation did not regulate the sale of hovercars, much like the UCF. Anyone who could afford the cost could buy one. However, taking them out of the prefecture could prove problematic. Despite the risk, it was still his best way to Shōrishima.
Mamoru went through the heart of the city, heading for the first parking facility he could find. The attendant at the booth paid him little mind, no doubt thinking him another man who had worked late. An odd feeling ran down his spine as he slipped down the stairwell. He tugged his coat open and kept a grip on his katana.
He paused at the exit to the thirty-ninth floor, listening. A sense of malice lingered on the other side of the wall, accented by the sound of a blade sliding from its sheath. The automatic door squeaked open as he advanced, allowing the cold of the windowless space to blow over him. Drying rain collected in puddles among the columns and a handful of parked cars.
Three paces in, he spun to his right. He whisked the katana free of its sheath and bisected a black-clad figure that leapt at him from behind. The upper body sailed past him on the right while a clear-bladed Nano sword passed on his left and stuck into the floor. Mamoru pivoted, attacking a hissing coming up from the left. His blade took a Nano shuriken out of the air, shattering it on contact. Mamoru locked eyes with a second man an instant before the assassin ducked out of sight behind a column about ten meters away. A scraping sound warned him of a third above him, who peeled away from the ceiling as if the concrete had come to life. Mamoru’s body glowed as he channeled psionic energy through his muscles. The falling ninja slowed, his downward stroke became a triviality to avoid. His opponent’s suit retained the color and pattern of concrete, down to the water stains.
The ninja landed in a slow tumbling roll, which surged to normal time as the man’s neuralware activated. Concrete texture faded to black as the man sprang at him with a follow-up attack. Mamoru parried hard enough to knock the ninja into a stagger, returning a sideways slash that passed over the ninja as he flung himself to the ground. The ninja kicked into a backflip, and a ten-inch blade sprouted through the tip of his boot from an implant known as a ‘raptor.’ Mamoru leaned to the right, catching his weight on one hand. The blade passed over his head.
He shoved off the floor, standing as the ninja moved in with a series of quick side to side slashes. Mamoru deflected them with ease, but realized it a ruse to occupy his blade too late. A precise kick to his arm numbed it; his katana slipped from his fingers and clattered to ground. The assassin pressed his advantage, forcing Mamoru back with two missed beheading strikes.
Psionic energy rushed through his muscles, driving reflexes to their limit and dragging the world to a near standstill. Mamoru caught the man’s arm at the wrist on the next swing, grunting at the contest of strength. A soft click announced the raptor blade an instant before a foot flew for the underside of Mamoru’s chin. Shifting his power from speed to strength, Mamoru shoved back on the arms and caught the man by the ankle in a bone-crushing grip. He roared as his body lit aflame, and swung the ninja by the leg, smashing him against the wall and then the floor. Mamoru wrenched the foot around with a splintering crunch, reducing the limb to a formless ruin, before stabbing him through the chest with his own implanted weapon.
Mamoru stumbled to the side, snarling at the twisted mess of a corpse.
A fourth figure circled to his left, at a greater distance than the others―hesitating. Mamoru ran to his katana, snatching it from the ground before blurring in a superhuman sprint past the column where the shuriken-thrower hid. He ran past him, stabbing backwards. The hypersonic blade sank into the concrete. Smoke poured from where the seething hot blade touched flesh.
The man gurgled, feebly attempting to retaliate with a set of metal blades that sprouted out through his knuckles. Mamoru grunted in disapproval, jerked the katana free, and spun through a one-handed swing that decapitated the assassin before his knees met the floor. He stood with the blade held out to the side, where the swing ended, letting blood steam away.
His senses told him one ninja remained―the one that kept distance.
“You cannot hide from me.”
Stillness pervaded the thirty-ninth floor, save for the disquieting presence of the active vibro blade. He pivoted to lead with his left shoulder, holding his sword with both hands as he roamed in a circle.
“Mamoru,” said a female voice behind him. “I can see how tired you are.”
He froze, confident the source was far enough away not to be an immediate threat. “Sadako.”
Mamoru lowered the blade, turning as her head covering melted away from her face. Melancholy surrounded her like a cloak. Sweat beaded on his face, but he did not let fatigue show in his breathing.
“You surprise me with your gesture of respect. Your kind are often keen to seek a disreputable advantage.”
“I would prefer that neither of us die. I do not wish to kill you. Whatever has caused Minamoto to seek your death, his reach is far weaker outside of Japan. Any corporation in the West or the ACC would be honored to welcome you. You could even find work in China.”
He loosened his grip on the rubberized handle, the vibro inducer stopped. “My intention is to find whatever has influenced Minamoto, and restore things as they should be. I will return home when that is done.”
“You can’t set it right. Minamoto had no more loyalty to you than any of his other tools. You were an asset in his war chest.” She moved her arms up to fold them, slow enough not to seem threatening, and without looking at him. “The NSK does not know what made him discard such a powerful weapon.”
“I cannot simply leave. I must avenge th
is insult to my honor.”
“You are stubborn, Mamoru!” she yelled, at last making eye contact. “They will kill me for failing if you remain in Japan.”
“When I understand what oni has influenced Minamoto, I will destroy it and he will satisfy the contract.”
Sadako thrust her arms down. “It’s not that simple! It is an internal matter. If I fail, my life is over. They will not make it quick.” A tear gathered at the corner of her eye for a second before running down her cheek. “We are all slaves, Mamoru. All of us. If you will not listen to reason, and leave Japan for good―”
“I cannot allow this affront to go unanswered.”
“Stubborn,” she muttered, and reached up over her shoulder to her sword. “If you will not leave, then I would prefer a quick death at your hand to the pain of failure.”
Her ninjato glowed cyan as the transparent Nano blade caught the harsh overhead lights.
“You can leave.” Mamoru shifted ninety degrees to his right.
Life seemed to fade from her eyes. “There is a component inside my neural interface. If I betray them, it will release nanobots that will devour me from the inside. I have heard it takes four agonizing days to die. If you insist on remaining in Japan, you must kill me.”
She leapt. He got his blade up in time to stall her attack and the next two that followed―barely. Mamoru backpedaled, all of his concentration required to defend. Sadako’s technique was perfect. On equal footing, no cybernetics or psionics, he had no doubt she would defeat him. They circled for several paces before she feinted back and thrust. Point down, his katana pushed her attack aside with the sound of scraping blades. She did not attempt to oppose his strength advantage, instead yielding to the force and gaining a few paces of distance by using his defense to fling her away. Her neuralware kicked on, rendering her as an ebon blur for an instant before his kinetic psionics compensated. Her body solidified out of a smear of color, sailing at him a hair shy of normal speed. She was faster than the other ninja―higher in rank, she had better hardware. Again, Mamoru deflected the strike. Awakened kinetics pushed his body beyond the limits of cybernetics, but the advantage he enjoyed in speed she countered with skill.
Grey Ronin (The Awakened Book 3) Page 13