Eye of the Abyss

by Michael Formichelli

  “Do you think that will be necessary?” Enéas asked.

  Ichiro grasped Hoshinagi in his hand. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

  The twins exchanged a look.

  The airlock door dilated open and a jinzōbushi floated out. There were two more holding rifles at their shoulders behind its gleaming black armor. He took in a deep breath when the first arrived at the rover. Its narrow, red eyes scanned the compartment and settled on Ichiro. It froze for a moment, then reached forward and tapped the rover’s door.

  “Open it,” he said.

  The twins nodded. The door swung out and up, flooding the compartment with the smell of ozone and machine oil.

  “It really is you.”

  The voice drew his attention to the airlock where two middle-aged men floated beside the jinzōbushi. One appeared slightly younger than the other and was dressed in the black uniform of the Shiragawa self-defense forces. The other was his uncle, Lord Einaga Eiji. Dressed in a traditional black kimono with a white trim, he floated with his hand on the hilt of a white sword tucked into his obi. The wrinkles around his eyes drew taut when he met Ichiro’s gaze, and his hand tightened on the sword.

  Ichiro ground his teeth. His eyes fixed on the object in his uncle’s hand, and the hackles went up on the back of his neck.

  “Ah,” his uncle said. “So, you appear to live.”

  “I don’t understand.” He felt his blood go cold. The white sword’s hilt appeared to be an exact replica of Hoshinagi, right down to the bulges created by the gold dragons beneath its binding.

  “I see you don’t. Of course, you wouldn’t.” His uncle scowled. “Were you chasing after that gaijin woman again?”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Armstrong sent to his implant. He could feel her tension, along with that of the twins, was ratcheted as high as his own.

  Only the leader of the Mitsugawa is permitted to wear the white sword. Something is very wrong. He cleared his throat and thrust himself out of the rover’s door, arriving at the airlock moments later. “Has something happened that I don’t know about?”

  His uncle flinched, an unwise move in zero gravity. It sent him drifting backwards and to the side. He shook like a leaf for a moment, then reached out and grabbed a handhold within the lock. The man in the uniform pushed off the nearest jinzōbushi and moved away from his uncle. He caught himself on another handhold and placed a hand on the sidearm resting at his hip. Ichiro drew in a sharp breath, but forced his muscles to remain relaxed.

  His uncle coughed. “I see you have no knowledge of the news we received from Taiumikai days ago.”

  “News?” Follow me inside, he messaged to Armstrong and the twins.

  “The home world was attacked. We thought you dead.”

  He frowned, seeing Setha throw herself on him just before the green flash in his mind’s eye. “Attacked?”

  “The defense satellites’ records revealed it was Daedalus’ ship,” his uncle said. “No one survived.”

  He was aware that he shivered at the words, but was too numb to feel it. “No one survived?”

  “The computer says you are you, so I suppose you did, but…” His uncle’s face twitched. “How did you survive when my wife and children did not?”

  Ichiro looked down at the sword in his uncle’s obi. It made sense now. “You thought I was dead. You thought that made you Uchū Shōgun.”

  His uncle’s mouth opened and closed several times. “By right of succession—”

  “Succession? You married into my line. If Aunt Aki really is dead it severs your connection to my House.”

  “She is! And you should be, too!” Lord Einaga’s face twisted into something ugly. “I am the last living relative of the Mitsugawa. It does not matter that I married into the line or not.”

  “It matters very much, Einaga-sama.” He frowned. “And as you can see, I am still alive, so you are not the last.”

  “No… No…” Lord Einaga shook his head. “Taiumikai is dead, and Mitsugawa-uesama was on it. You must be an imposter.”

  Ichiro took in a deep breath, trying to keep his anger at bay. “The computer confirmed my identity? Didn’t it? I am Mitsugawa Ichiro.”

  “No!” Lord Einaga grasped the hilt of his blade.

  The man in the uniform thrust off the wall in a sudden burst of motion. Ichiro’s hand moved to Hoshinagi, but it was unnecessary. The man landed on his surprised uncle. He grasped the scabbard of his uncle’s sword and yanked it from Einaga’s obi in one, fluid motion as he rebounded off him.

  His uncle’s eyes grew wide. “How dare you?”

  “Allow me to introduce myself, my lord.” The man bowed his head to Ichiro, ignoring Lord Einaga. “I am Tanaka Kenji, Chief of Shiragawa’s Special Projects Division, and I serve House Mitsugawa.”

  Ichiro relaxed his hand. His father’s athenaeum had information on this man. “Special Projects” was his barony’s intelligence and black ops division, and was in charge of this shipyard. His father selected Tanaka-san to head it on account of his discretion, and what he called a tenacious tendency to ignore traditional morality in favor of his loyalty to the House. The athenaeum said he was to be trusted. Ichiro hoped that was correct.

  His uncle’s mouth worked without sound for a second time.

  “Thank you, Tanaka-san,” he said, sensing Armstrong and the twins come up behind him. “Your services are appreciated.”

  “He assaulted me!” His uncle’s voice betrayed the depth of his shock.

  He chose to ignore it. “My uncle just said our home was attacked. What happened?”

  “Arrest them,” his uncle said to the jinzōbushi.

  They did not move.

  “Tanaka-san?” Ichiro was in no mood for this. Already he could feel the weight of the news about Taiumikai pressing in on him like the cold ocean depths.

  “I think it best to inform you in the briefing room, or perhaps your quarters. The airlock is a bit cramped,” Tanaka-san said with a long face.

  “Agreed.” He looked at his uncle. “And please destroy that false sword.”

  “Of course, my lord. This way.”

  The inner door of the airlock cycled open, revealing a well-lit, octagonal corridor. Tanaka-san pushed off the wall and floated down it. Ichiro looked back at Armstrong, then over at his uncle before following. She nodded and gestured for Lord Einaga to lead the way before she and the twins followed.

  Ichiro felt his whole body stiffen. Every muscle pulled against its partner, sending his body into a state of complete immobility. He couldn’t breathe. Before him he watched the wave of destruction peal across his home, leaving nothing but a charred, dead world in its wake.

  “How?” Armstrong said from over his shoulder. He saw her reflection scowl in the shiny black finish of the conference room table.

  “Scans show the Abyssian ship fired on Taiumikai with its relativity cannon.” Tanaka-san’s face was ashen. “It fired, and then it jumped into an ERB. It seems that Daedalus has the same Fukurō-class drive system as we do.”

  “It helped us develop it,” Ichiro said upon finding his voice.

  “We should have expected this, I suppose. It is true. Still, we did not anticipate that the machine would take the drive system for itself. We expected Daedalus to purchase it for the Confederate fleet from Shiragawa.”

  “Still, it should have been expected. Daedalus is more of a master of espionage than any biological being. We designed it that way.”

  “True enough, my lord.”

  “Nero was on that ship,” Armstrong said in a low voice. “You know if he could have prevented it, he would have.”

  “That was my sense of him, true, but we don’t know what happened on that ship. Until we do, I am not taking any chances.” His eyes fell on the image of the blackened and scarred Taiumikai. He waved at it with a finger and the hologram vanished. “That’s enough of that.”

  “It never gets any easier to watch, my lord,” Tanaka-san stated. The chara
cteristic neutrality of the CEL tone grated on Ichiro’s nerves. Given the magnitude of what they just watched, it was like profanity in his ears.

  He turned to the narrow arc of the conference room’s window and ordered its shield raised so he could watch the stars scroll by as the torus spun. There was something calming about them, though they still filled him with longing for Setha. It was a sensation enhanced by the eerie green glow he saw in the eyes of his reflection. Other than the twins and Armstrong, no one had said anything about them to him. Of course, most citizens of the Confederation had corneal implants and could make their eyes appear as they wished, but this was not the doing of his cybernetics. Setha had done this, but what did it mean? Why had this happened?

  “Were there any survivors?” he asked.

  “Just those on the colonies in the system. There were none on the planet itself,” Tanaka-san responded.

  “Not even the space stations in orbit?” Ichiro asked.

  “The—” Tanaka-san stopped, coughed once, then took a deep breath before proceeding. “The blast of the atmosphere leaving the planet destroyed them.”

  He nodded, feeling his body grow heavy and tired. “I see. Any word from Mitsugawa Aki? My cousins?”

  “None, my lord. You and your companion are the only two known to have been on the planet when the attack occurred and survived.” Tanaka-san opened his mouth, then shut it without speech.

  Ichiro waited for him to inquire how it was they were alive. When enough time passed in silence he decided the man wasn’t going to ask.

  “Keep checking for word from them. If we survived, they may have,” he said. “What of Mamiya-san?”

  Tanaka-san brightened at the question. “His digital backup initiated when his body was destroyed. I am informed that his wisdom is helping to coordinate the relief effort for the colonies in the home system.”

  Ichiro let out a heavy breath. As a CEL Mamiya-san’s mind was part digital. The Cyberweb in all Shiragawa systems was designed to serve as a backup for them should their bodies die. Provided a CEL was in-system long enough, they would have a digital copy of themselves if their original forms perished should they desire it. Unfortunately, this digital incarnation was only a copy, and it meant the original person was dead. Still, at least he would have Mamiya-san’s counsel again soon. His home was dead, but at least with Mamiya-san’s help, he knew he could achieve some measure of justice for them. That thought pushed back the wave of despair that was rising from within him and allowed him to focus on the future as a true Mitsugawa should.

  “That is the only bright spot in this darkness,” he said. “How stands the fleet here?”

  “This ship is complete and operational as you can see. We had one more Fukurō-class vessel, but your uncle ordered it to Shēnkōngjīng.”

  Ichiro licked his lips. A cold wave of nausea passed through his gut. “What?”

  Tanaka-san frowned, looking down at the table. “Lord Einaga set the Zháo spy free as soon as word from the home system arrived. He had one of the crew go to deliver him back to the Yulong Gongsi.”

  He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. How could his uncle do that? The Yulong Gongsi were their rivals, and since they noticed the decrease in neutronium orders from Shiragawa, they had sent spies to discover the cause. The new drive system would put them under threat of extinction since it would replace the system that fed on the fuel they provided. It was to be kept top secret, and now his uncle had delivered it to them.

  Ichiro felt his body shake.

  “My lord, if I had known you were still alive—”

  He held up his hand.

  “Can we catch up to it in this ship? Destroy it?” Armstrong asked.

  Tanaka-san shook his head. “It is not possible. They’ll be there days ahead of us, and attacking a ship in rival territory would not bode well for us.”

  “We cannot fight House Zháo and House Revenant together. We’ll have to find some way to assuage them until we are ready,” Ichiro clenched his metallic hand. Nothing was easy, was it? “In the meanwhile, I have a promise to keep. Zalor Revenant has moved on our Savorchan allies, and has landed troops on our colony world of Phykor. In doing so he has declared war on us.”

  “He and Daedalus both. Could they be working together?” Tanaka-san asked.

  “I don’t want to think so. Still, the timing of Daedalus’ attack on us would suggest it. Either they are working together, which would be the only motive I can discern for the attack, or Zalor just got lucky. It doesn’t matter. We will make him pay.”

  Tanaka-san bowed his head. “Yes, Lord Mitsugawa. I will do anything and everything in my power to ensure it happens and direct Special Projects to find a link, should it exist between our enemies.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. Continue speaking of the fleet here.”

  “This ship is the only fully operational capital ship of the new class. The others are still under construction.”

  “How does its crew stand?” he asked.

  “We have a skeleton crew. I believe it was your father’s intent to fully crew her once the secret of her existence was revealed, and she went to Taiumikai. I could pull a few more people from the surrounding facilities and shipyards, but that would leave them—”

  “Don’t,” he said. “It would be a tactical error. We need them here to continue the work.”

  “’Scuse me but won’ this location be compromised by that ship your uncle sent off?” Armstrong asked.

  He nodded. “True enough. We can expect an attack here by either Zalor or Daedalus, or Zháo’s forces if she decides to eliminate this threat.”

  “We can’t repel any of them if they show up in force. Our defense was our secrecy,” Tanaka-san said.

  Ichiro frowned. “All right, then we’ll have to work quickly and hope for the best. Start planning to relocate the shipyard. We need to go to Phykor, and I want to do it by way of the home system.”

  “I’ll set a course,” Tanaka-san said.

  “I’d like to meet the captain of this ship,” he stated.

  “You already have, my lord. That would be me, as of right now.”

  “I’m sorry?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “These new ships have integrated interface systems for CELs, my lord. A single CEL can serve as its helmsman, navigator, and direct many of its operations when linked. Your father was going to choose someone in person to captain her but never got around to it, so I volunteered myself.”

  Ichiro grunted and gave Tanaka-san a nod.

  Tanaka-san bowed his head. “It is my wish that it be so, my lord. I do have a question, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What should we do about your uncle? He has committed treason.”

  Ichiro frowned. It was true, by sending a Fukurō-class ship to the Yulong Gongsi’s home world his uncle had committed treason against Shiragawa, and against House Mitsugawa. It required punishment, but he had to wonder why his uncle had done what he did. The Einagas were trusted allies. What could have pushed his uncle to this? Was it a planned move, or an emotional reaction? He didn’t know, but it wasn’t something he was prepared to explore right now, not with all of the other pressing issues.

  “Arrest him and place him in the ship’s brig,” Ichiro said. “I’ll confront him later.”

  “My lord, I suggest he be tried as soon as possible. Lord Einaga has many allies in the Shiragawa ranks.”

  “On this ship?” He asked.

  “Some, he was overseeing the shipyard for years.”

  He sighed. “No, I’m still getting my bearings, and I think dealing with one tragedy and a pending war is enough for now. Arrest him and leave it at that.”

  Tanaka-san’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he bowed his head. The twins and Armstrong looked concerned.

  Ichiro hoped he was making the right decision, but for now he couldn’t worry about it. “Set a course for Taiumikai. Execute it as soon as we are ready to depart.”

  “
Yes, Lord Mitsugawa.” Tanaka-san rose from his seat and bowed deeply.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fukurō-Maru, In Transit

  41:2:44-41:3:22 (J2400:3174-3209)

  The mob flowed through the streets like a living tsunami, filling every available space. No matter which direction she looked she could see no way around them. The narrow street pulsed with their furious mass, a thousand eyes hungry to tear her to pieces. Her lungs heaved, struggling to breathe through her fear-constricted throat. She raised her assault rifle. Each squeeze of the trigger brought bodies to the ground to be trampled by the surging wave of the crowd. Its collective, unending scream was drowned out the rolling crackle of her rifle. She backed up as they came at her. Her weapon kicked at her shoulder until it clicked empty, and still there were more.

  “I’m sorry!” she screamed at them, throwing the useless weapon into the dirt. “I didn’t know! I’m sorry!”

  The miners surged forward. Their numbers heated the air to burning intensity against her skin. She turned to run, but found herself blocked off as more came at her from behind. The first touch of their hands on her body tore a scream from her throat. She felt thick, unyielding arms encircle her, pulling her in towards their twisted, salivating mouths—

  Meia’s eyes shot open, and she thrashed against the banded, polymer arms encircling her torso. She wriggled and pulled at them until her surroundings registered. She was not staring at the domed, blood-stained buildings of the ETMC colony on Calemni, but the grated walls of an airlock. When she breathed in she smelled ozone and machine oil, not dust and death. The arms around her belonged to the DS-109 that saved her life. Warmed by her body heat, Iapetus’ frame pressed into her bare skin as he held her in a protective embrace. She stilled herself, feeling a lump form in her throat. She was free, found, rescued, and no longer on that hellish world. She was on a ship traveling the stars for the first time in months. The meals she would eat today would come from a vensynth, not scavenged from canned supplies or torn from emergency ration packs. Today she would be able to relax and talk with others instead of hiding from an Abyssian Praetor in abandoned buildings and maintenance tunnels. For the first time in months she was safe. The reality of it shook her, feeling at once real and like a dream.