SWITCHBLADE (Choi Ziyi Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  switchblade

  Mike Morris

  Contents

  title

  Quotation

  History

  1. Ziyi

  2. Wing

  3. Ziyi

  4. Wing

  5. Ziyi

  6. Wing

  7. Ziyi

  8. Wing

  9. Ziyi

  10. Wing

  11. Ziyi

  12. Wing

  13. Ziyi

  14. Wing

  15. Ziyi

  16. Wing

  17. Ziyi

  18. Wing

  19. Ziyi

  20. Wing

  21. Ziyi

  22. Wing

  23. Ziyi

  24. Wing

  25. Ziyi

  26. Wing

  27. Ziyi

  28. Wing

  29. Ziyi

  30. Wing

  31. Ziyi

  Acknowledgments

  SWITCH/BLADE

  by Mike Morris

  "For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill.

  To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."

  Sun Tzu, The Art Of War

  In 2012, the United States of America owed $1.6 trillion to China.

  By 2098, the amount had risen to $120 trillion.

  In 2103, China called in the debt.

  Unable to pay, China repossessed its collateral and the U.S. became part of the reborn Chinese Empire.

  Shortly afterwards, Europe, Asia and Australia were also assimilated in a similar manner.

  1

  Ziyi

  Choi Ziyi walked two steps behind Xiao Jia, heir to the Chinese Empire and three-quarters of the world, wondering if this was the day someone would try to kill them.

  She scanned the faces of the media waiting with their cameras on the other side of the glass doors for anyone out of place, or a face she didn't recognise. Lee Yuen from the South China was at the front of the scrum in his usual spot. Next to him was Zhu Juju with what looked like a new camera in her hand. Lim Hua Lang's bags under his eyes looked darker than ever — no wonder, the man never seemed to sleep. Zhou Janyi hovered at the back of the scrum as usual. Wen-Khai Ying was next to her. Thirty journalists in all with eager smiles plastered all over their faces, hoping to capture a smile or a glance that the others won't get. She didn't know if it made her happy or sad to confirm she knew each and every one in the waiting mob, but at least there was no one new to worry about.

  She slipped on her sunglasses to protect her eyes from the impending explosions of flashlight. Everyone wanted to see the Emperor's son and his beautiful girlfriend, the People's Princess, and there never seemed enough images to sate the public’s thirst.

  Xiao loved the attention. He was always happy to flash that smile of his, wave a greeting or say a few words. It was second nature, a reflex ingrained since birth. "Love the people and they'll love you," his father had taught him, a lesson Xiao constantly reminded Ziyi of.

  Ziyi, on the other hand, loathed the press. If she had her wish, there'd be no one waiting for them. No one would care who they were or what they did. No one would follow them. There'd be no need for the bodyguards and convoys of cars and even more security. A simple meal in a restaurant wouldn't involve three months of planning, four armed men in suits surrounding them, and police protection taking them to and from the venue. No cameras. No news. No minute examination by a thousand different people of what clothes she wore or how she did her hair. And no worrying about the threat of assassination and kidnapping. She sighed. She might as well wish for the world to stop turning.

  Xiao slipped his arm around her waist. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

  She smiled at him as they walked. "I don't think so."

  "Then I must apologise for my poor behaviour. My only excuse is that the sight of you rendered me speechless, and I have only just recovered." He pushed his long hair back from his face so Ziyi could see the mischief in his eyes. He wore a suit she loved — it was black blue with the faintest of pin stripes, so fine you could almost miss them, in a cloth that just begged to be touched. It cost more than a lot of people's homes and was worth every yuan. He was the Emperor's son, the nearest thing to a god in the world, and looked it. She loved him more than life itself.

  "I'll forgive you this once." Ziyi returned the faintest of smiles. She scanned the waiting journalists once more

  "Time for the show, my dear," said Xiao as the doormen swept the doors open for them. Yiang Yin and Mun Ping, in their black suits, sunglasses, earpieces, and a comforting bulge of a machine pistol under their left armpits, walked on either side of the couple. Their towering physiques had been enhanced with cybernetics — known as mek — making them all the more lethal. Two others, Huizong and Chen, covered the rear. The four men, Xiao's boys, were part of the public face of the Close Protection Unit that looked after the Emperor, the Heir and all the other members of the Imperial family.

  The flashes started the moment Xiao and Ziyi stepped out of the Imperial residence. Despite the sunglasses, Ziyi found herself blinking.

  "Princess! Princess!" The cry came from all around her. Little did they know she'd hated that nickname since it was uttered for the first time four years ago. She wasn't a princess, just the daughter of a low-level government official from the provinces. She paid no attention to their cries — and tried to ignore the feeling that each new image stole more of her soul along with it. If there was a better way to handle the attention and the fame, Ziyi wasn't aware of it. The lessons she'd been given hadn't prepared for her for the overwhelming attention that came with her position — and it certainly wasn't getting any easier with time.

  The boys cleared a path to the waiting limousine. Mun Ping held the door open for them. Xiao slipped in first, followed by Ziyi. It wasn't a question of manners, but of security. The heir was safer inside the car than outside, and he was the number one priority. He may be loved by the people, but there were enough enemies of the Empire that wished him harm; US separatists, The Free Europe Brigade, Australian Republican Army, any number of Muslim extremists — even the United Arab Empire itself. Xiao's modernist views hadn't made him too many friends within the Government either.

  The door shut with a reassuring clunk, and Ziyi sank back into the leather seat, stretching her legs, happy to be cocooned away from the scrum of press once more. Xiao was watching a news report. Mun Ping joined the driver while the other boys split themselves between the front and rear cars.

  No one spoke while the car's engine started, the destination already set into the auto-pilot. There was the faintest of hums as the car picked up speed as it entered the traffic.

  "Where's the restaurant?" asked Xiao, glancing over.

  "Lan Kwai Fong, level Two Four Two," replied Ziyi.

  "Oh god. So down level," said Xiao with a grin. "Is that the fashion now? To slum it?"

  Ziyi smiled back and shook her head in mock exasperation. Level Two Four Two was hardly down level. The Imperial residence was as high as Hong Kong went, two hundred and eighty-eight levels above the ground, but few starscrapers came close to matching that. Mid-level didn't officially start until the Two Twenties, and even then they were home only to the super rich, or the corporations they owned. Only below the Hundreds did it become "slumming it", and of course at ground level, in the Zeros, it was deadly. The Zeros were home to the crazies and the criminals, the down and outs and the lethal. The law didn’t exist in the Zeros. Luckily there would never be any reason for Xiao to visit there. The best protection in the world would find it impossible to keep him safe.

  "The chef will make
the journey worthwhile. Trust me," said Ziyi.

  Xiao raised an eyebrow and went back to watching the news.

  "Protests against the Imperial government are increasing across the North American continent," said the anchor, Lin Bai of Channel News Asia. "Governor Xin issued a statement, acknowledging the growing desire for self-rule within the country, but denied there would be a referendum of the subject."

  Xin appeared on screen, standing in front of the White House. The red Imperial flag fluttered against a pale blue sky. "America has been an important part of the Chinese Empire since 2103 and we don’t see any reason to change an arrangement that has brought success and prosperity to all our citizens on this continent, despite a few noisy individuals and their anti-social behaviour. We can't allow a disgruntled minority to tarnish the image of the happy, law-abiding majority that are loyal citizens of the Empire.

  "As much as we encourage the freedom of speech, we will not permit that right to be abused. The curfew has been extended and any person found outside their homes past eight pm will be detained without trial until further notice. Anyone found with a weapon will be shot on sight."

  Xiao snorted. "I never liked that man. I've always said he's too narrow-minded. The Americans need to be given autonomy. It's their country after all. Fear does nothing other than breed more unrest. It's time to show strength through compassion — not by adding pressure through the military."

  Ziyi said nothing. It wasn't her place to comment on politics. She gazed out the window as the cars slipped onto the highway. They'd be at the restaurant in ten minutes, maybe less. The cars emitted pulses preventing all other vehicles from getting within two hundred feet of the Imperial convoy, so the roads were clear.

  Police outriders zipped alongside the convoy, accelerating or slowing down as needed, ensuring that, if anyone had managed to block the pulse, they still wouldn't get any closer. A police flyer also hovered overhead. For the next ten minutes, Ziyi could relax. They were safe.

  Hong Kong spread out around them, an ocean of light under the night sky. Some of the world's most impressive starscrapers reached up to the heavens. Roads and monorails zigzagged their way between them like arteries, keeping the city alive and moving. The sight never failed to take Ziyi's breath away. Hong Kong was the most beautiful city in the world, and she could understand why Xiao had chosen the island to be his home, along with the other fifty-eight million inhabitants, instead of elsewhere in the Empire.

  She gazed into various windows as they sped by. Offered no more than a flash, she wondered at the lives within — who they were, what they did, how they lived. Her world was so far removed from the ordinary citizens of the Empire, she found their lives fascinating —as obsessed with them as they were with hers.

  "For a hundred and twenty years, the Americans have grumbled and complained about being part of our Empire," said Xin on the holo-screen. "They forget the wealth we have given them, the security. They ignore the fact that we saved them from bankruptcy — they borrowed one hundred and twenty trillion dollars from us. Did they think we'd never ask for it back? That we would just keep funding their stupidity? They gambled their country away. They need to accept it is ours now."

  The Heir leaned forward and poured himself a glass of champagne. He took a sip. "I've told father if we're not careful he'll start shooting a few of them."

  "What did your father say?" Ziyi asked.

  "That they'd soon learn their place. A firm hand to remind them of their masters." He screwed his mouth up as he twisted the champagne flute in his hand. "When I argued the point, he said that I'd think differently when I was older but perhaps the truth is he was wiser when he was younger."

  The words shocked Ziyi. No one criticized the Emperor. He was the father of them all. The Son of Heaven. "Xiao, I..." she began.

  Xiao waved his hand to silence her. He locked his eyes on hers, his cheeks coloured, aware that he'd said too much. Someone was always listening.

  She bowed her head. "Yes, your Imperial Highness. Please forgive me." Her heart raced as she hoped his words would go unnoticed. He would soon be the Emperor after all. His father was eighty-two, and the unspoken truth was he grew more fragile by the day, making Xiao's ascension imminent. Surely that fact placed Xiao above reproach.

  The news reports filled the silence in the car. The United Arab Empire had stopped fuel shipments once more. A planet in the outer rim had been claimed in the Emperor's name. The body of another woman had been discovered in the Zeros. A movie star was divorcing his husband. The spaceport on Lamma Island had increased flights to eight times a day to New Beijing, the orbiting city above the earth. More recruits were needed for the Imperial Army to support the push further into space.

  The convoy took the exit off the highway, curving right onto level Two Four Two. Three more turns took them to the top of Lan Kwai Fong. Ziyi's heart raced as she saw the crowds waiting for them. Eager faces leaned over the barriers, hours of their lives given up for this one moment to be near Xiao, to see the future of the Empire. A couple of news drones hovered overhead, filming everything. She checked everyone and everything for a possible threat as they drew closer, finding no relief for her anxiety when all appeared as it should be.

  The police bikes stopped first, their blue lights colouring the scene. The lead car pulled up beside the restaurant, and Huizong jumped out to take his place by the side of the Heir's vehicle as it stopped.

  "Here we go again," said Xiao, slipping his public face into place with it’s easy smile.

  They watched Mun Ping take position next to Huizong.

  "All clear, sire," said the driver, and the door opened. The roar from the crowd, all screams and cheers, rushed into the car before they could move, mixed with the pop of the cameras. Heat from the night air replaced the car's artificial chill.

  Xiao stepped out of the car and Ziyi followed, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. The police had set up barriers on either side of the restaurant entrance to hold back the crowds waiting for them. Xiao waved to both sides, and pulled Ziyi close to pose with him.

  "We should go inside," she suggested.

  "Nonsense," said Xiao. "How often do they get a chance to see the future of the Empire? Let them enjoy the moment a while longer."

  The knot tightened in Ziyi's stomach. Something wasn’t quite right. It was always that way, she told herself. Just her normal paranoia. Even so...

  "Please, sire, it's safer in..."

  The bomb threw the lead car twenty feet in the air. Flames ripped out from under it, vaporising the nearby crowd. Mun Ping just disappeared. Ziyi wrapped herself around Xiao, throwing them both to the ground and covering him with her own body. The heat and the fury of the explosion rushed over her. Ignore the pain, she told herself. Xiao was all that mattered. She prayed the road wouldn't collapse and drop them forty levels to the next part of Lan Kwai Fong below them.

  One of the police bikes had been thrown through a shop's window. The remains of the first car burned on its side next to a crater in the road. There was nothing left of the police escort. Debris fell from the sky. Body parts lay scattered across the road and sidewalk. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear the screams of the wounded and dying. Even the air tasted burnt.

  She ran her hands over Xiao searching for any wounds. "Are you injured? Are you hurt?"

  Huizong crouched down beside them, machine pistol in hand, before Xiao could answer. "We need to get you back in the car, your Highness."

  A red dot appeared on his forehead a split second before his skull disintegrated. Blood and brains splattered across Ziyi's face.

  "Keep your heads down," Chen screamed from the other side of the car.

  It was everything Ziyi had ever feared. A terrorist attack. Xiao could die. She had to get him back in the car, get him back somewhere safe. Panic surged through her and it took all her self-control not to scream.

  Then the adrenaline kicked in and the world slipped back into gear. Her training
took over. She jumped up, hauling Xiao with her as she sprinted to their car, bullets nipping at her feet every step of the way. She opened the door and threw the heir inside, happy to get him inside its bulletproof shell. Chen reached her side a split-second later as bullets continued to rain down on them, ricocheting off the car and sidewalk, and ripping into the screaming crowd.

  Ziyi leaned inside the car, ignoring Xiao as he struggled into a body protection suit, and ripped off part of the back seat. She snatched the Norinco assault rifle stored there and swung back into the street, slamming the door shut after her. She felt better with the weapon in her hands. Fifty rounds of armour-piercing bullets in the mag, and a grenade launcher under the barrel with one already in the pipe. Whoever had attacked them was going to pay.

  Chen leaned over the trunk of the car and rattled shots off from his machine pistol.

  "You see the shooter?" Ziyi shouted at him.

  Chen dropped back down behind the car. He ejected the spent clip, slapped in a replacement. "Next level up. Window next to the Honda sign."

  Ziyi peaked over the roof of the car. She saw a flash before more rounds pounded the roof, forcing her head down. "Got him." She slipped her finger around the grenade launcher's trigger.

  She counted to five as she tried to force her heart rate down, took a deep breath, and stood up from cover. She aimed, and squeezed the trigger. She barely heard the pop over the chaos. The grenade flew up, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake before it smashed into the window. The explosion was paltry compared to the one that started the attack on the Imperial party, but it was enough. It shredded everything in a fifteen-foot diameter of where it had hit. Brick and steel, flesh and blood. None of it had a chance.