“Female tarantulas are more valuable than male ones because of their longevity. I fed her once a week. Right before they molt, they stop eating so they can shed their old skin, and they’re very vulnerable when they’re undergoing the metamorphosis. But it’s the only way for them to grow up.”
“Wonder what it’d be like if humans had to molt their own skin,” I wonder.
“Someone would probably find a way to commoditize the skin of famous people,” she suggests. “They’d dig up the molted skin of historic figures and put them up in museums. They’d even have one dedicated to the old Americans.”
“I faced some of the new Americans in the Quiet Border,” I say.
“These new ones are nothing like the real Americans.”
“They’re not?”
“The old Americans had an uncanny strength about them. They believed in freedom, and the people chose their own leaders,” she says.
“What if they picked the wrong leaders?”
“That’s why they had a system of checks and balances to temper any one side from becoming too powerful. But there was also a fundamental faith that whoever was elected would respect that system. If someone came along and threw it all aside, the whole thing would crumble.”
“It’s a good thing our leaders are chosen by the Emperor,” I say.
“The Emperor has never made a bad choice?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I reply. “But he is all-knowing, and I doubt he’d appoint someone who wasn’t right for the position.”
She smiles. “You can be so naive.”
“If I weren’t naive about life, I’d have given up trying to be a mecha pilot a long time ago.”
“It’s true, naive people tend to be persistent.”
“You mean they never give up even though it makes sense they should.”
“Is that why you’ve come this whole week?” she asks.
“I just wanted to make sure you get good food,” I reply.
She comes close to me and kisses me on the lips.
I’m startled.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I haven’t done this before,” I admit.
She kisses me again.
Our lips caress for a few seconds. I wish it could last longer. She puts her hand on my cheek, and says, “Pick some German food for tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what. I just miss home cooking.”
I skip back to my dorm, jubilant.
* * *
• • •
In a mock battle, Kujira hits me with the sword too quickly. I block the blow, but the force causes me to fall to my mecha’s knees. When I try to get back up, the knee buckles, and I drop back to the ground. Something’s wrong with the piston. Normally, this is where my engineer would run a diagnostic and try to figure out what’s faulty. But since I don’t have one on board, I have to wait for someone from Dr. Shimitsu’s crew to evaluate the problem.
As I’m down for the count, Kazu is pitted against Kujira. It’s a fight I’ve long wanted to see. Even though they’re not fighting “for real,” the battle gets heated. Kazu’s yo-yos move so fast, I almost can’t see them. Kujira uses his sword to parry and defend himself. But Kazu’s attacks remind me of Honda’s rush attack, only much faster, with that deadly yo-yo. He swings that weapon around as if it were weightless, whipping Kujira as soon as he’s within range. Kujira has to assess his situation. They hold their distance for over a minute. Kazu takes a tentative step forward, causing Kujira to step back.
“Whoa. Is this what I think it is?” Chieko private messages me.
“I think so.”
“I’d actually pay money to see this.”
“Me too.”
“Who do you think’s gonna win?”
“I have no idea,” I reply.
Kazu puts Kujira in a corner and begins a flurry of yo-yo attacks. Kujira somehow deflects all of them, but when he tries to strike, gets hit in the hand, slicing off two of his fingers. The sword drops, leaving him vulnerable. Just as Kazu is about to come in for the kill, Kujira times a perfect kick to knock Kazu back. Kujira uses the opportunity to pick up the sword, and they’re about to continue the fight when Dr. Shimitsu stops them to do a maintenance check “on your hands.”
A crew goes to inspect Kujira’s sundered fingers. Chief Engineer Nobusue checks my knees and determines that several parts that have short-circuited need to be replaced.
I’m done for the day.
“You’re lucky the fight got stopped,” Kujira says to Kazu.
“Don’t chirp to me, brother. I will annihilate you.”
“Let’s do it tomorrow. No stopping until one of our mechas is down for the count.”
“Be glad to.”
“Now, boys,” Nori jumps in. “We’re not here to prove who’s a better pilot. We’re here to test out the mechas.”
“The best way to test it is with a fight,” Kujira states.
“Agreed.”
“We’ll leave it to Dr. Shimitsu.”
Dr. Shimitsu says, “Absolutely not.”
But that only ignites the sense of competition between the two.
* * *
• • •
Every night, Nori sends us a portical report on how we did. I don’t know how she finds time to make the detailed analysis using film footage from our fights. For example, if a practice swing is off, she’ll actually paste in the recording, draw out the arc she’d expect, point out where the pose is off, and offer suggestions on improvement. (Ninety-five percent of mine involve suggestions to improve weaponless combat.) She also measures energy expenditure and points out inefficiencies that may be overutilizing power where less could get us further. The concrete feedback is very helpful.
* * *
• • •
The holidays celebrating the Empire’s victory over America start tomorrow on July 2, which is a Tuesday. It’ll go through the whole week until the seventh, though the main celebration will be on the fourth of July. Lots of military personnel and workers have traveled away to visit family. One of the unexpected absences is Dr. Shimitsu, who had told us earlier she was staying to work with us, then abruptly decided to leave. Many of our soldiers are going down to Los Angeles to take part in the annual military parade. A dozen of our newest mechas have already been transported south for the celebrations.
I ask Griselda what she’s going to do.
“I’ve never actually celebrated it,” she says. “What do you traditionally do?”
“BBQ lots of food, watch fireworks, and see kyōtei or baseball on the portical. Lots of people visit distant relatives.”
“What about your family?” she asks.
I tell her what I recently learned about my mother and her death.
“That’s terrible,” she says. “I know it doesn’t make it better, but it’s the same in the Reich. We’re all disposable fodder.”
“Unless you’re one of the chosen,” I say.
“Even chosen ones can be sacrificed if someone wants to stay in power bad enough. What about your legal guardians?”
“I’ve told you about them.”
“They’ve never reached out?”
I shake my head. “They better not. I never understood how they could be so cruel to me.”
“What if you saw them now?”
“They better hope I don’t.”
She holds my hand.
“I want to show you something.”
“What?”
She guides me to Mechtown’s underground subway system. It looks just like the BART, except there are no advertisements. I’m curious where we’re going. There aren’t too many people taking the train, as it’s the evening and most are away for the holidays. There are many other routes going underneath San Francisco, intertwining with the public subway system.
“This is the Sausalito Shrine,” Griselda says. “It commemorates all the Americans who were killed in the Holy War fighting against us.”
“A shrine to our enemies?” I ask, surprised by its existence.
“Hard to believe, right?”
We wash our hands at the water basin before we enter. Inside, it’s just us and the dozen or so priests who are dressed in white robes. Portical display screens show the names of those who were killed in the atomic blasts that destroyed Sausalito, Sacramento, and San Jose in 1948. It smells of incense, and there are candles burning everywhere.
“I’ve come here to pray often,” she says.
I look at the names of all the dead. “No one listened to their prayers.”
“That’s why the shrine is here, to appease them.”
“The dead don’t care who listen to them now.”
“How do you know?” she asks.
“I guess I don’t.”
We both pick up candles with the names of victims on them. We blow out the light and say a private prayer.
She leads me out to the observation deck. It’s windy and cold, but the view is spectacular. They rebuilt the Golden Gate Bridge in 1950 after it was destroyed during the war. It’s supposed to be an almost exact duplicate of the bridge before the Empire’s victory, only twice as wide. It’s majestic, the orange-vermilion gleaming in the nighttime lights. I’d always seen it from the east bay, but seeing it from up here, I’m awed by its scope and size.
“I hate war,” she says. “I hate that so many people have to die for the dumbest reasons.”
“Let’s pray that one day—”
She puts a finger to my mouth. “You can’t tell me your prayers.”
“Why not?”
“If you tell anyone else, they won’t come true.”
“Then I won’t tell a soul.”
We stay out for half an hour, not talking, just watching the surroundings, seeing what it is that we’re training to protect. I still can’t believe she’s here and hold her hand tightly, praying that she never leaves.
* * *
• • •
I get back to my room late and see I have a message from Kazu on my portical, asking me to meet them in the morning. I wonder if they have something scheduled for the holidays. I take a hot shower, think about Griselda, and go to sleep.
* * *
• • •
All four Tigers are waiting for me in a conference room. Kazu talks as the other three are sitting down, arms crossed. “I don’t care who you date, but Dr. Günter’s assistant?” Kazu asks, raising his arm with his hand flat to me in a questioning gesture. “Brother, you are really pushing the boundaries. I know I mentioned you should think about family, but this isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Did someone say something about me and Griselda?” I ask.
“Of course,” Kazu snaps. “You’re bringing in food from outside every night and going to her dorm. The security cameras recorded it and flagged it. Security officials asked Nori about it the first night, and she explained you were friends from high school. But every night, man, you look like you got a hook on your nose. You got to think carefully about this. We still don’t know what her real agenda is.”
“You know her, Nori. It’s peace she wants,” I state.
“So she says,” Kazu continues before Nori can reply. “And from all appearances, I’m inclined toward believing her. But we won’t know until some time passes. She could be carted out of here any minute. Just ’cause she defected doesn’t make her a free citizen in the USJ. You’ve put the Tigers in an awkward position. More specifically related to you, if you choose to pursue a relationship with her, the security concerns make it hard to trust you with a mecha since it puts us in a compromising position.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m saying.”
“There’s a lot about Griselda you don’t know yet,” Nori says.
“I assumed as much,” I reply.
Irritation flashes across her face. “A Nazi is a Nazi no matter what.”
“Griselda hates the Nazis.”
“That’s what she says. You still don’t know about her role in your friend’s death?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Hideki,” Nori replies.
The name hits me like a brick. I take a second to gather my senses. “Th-there’s no connection there.”
“Why don’t you ask her about it?”
“I—I will,” I stammer.
“Like I said, who you date is normally not my business,” Kazu emphasizes. “But a Nazi defector is a different ball game. If the Germans even got a hint they’re here, they’d attack right away. We’ve been shielded off, but things are super tense above, especially because Dr. Shimitsu has gone missing.”
“What?” I ask, stunned. “I thought she was on vacation?”
“No one can get hold of her or her family. Their entire apartment was ransacked, and it looked like there was a struggle. That’s why word has come down, and it’s simple. You need to cut off with Griselda if you want to be part of the Tigers.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I get it man. High-school crush. She’s smart, attractive, you guys have a connection. But this is the Empire’s fate at stake here. It’s not the time for romance. We talked to the officers, and they’re willing to let it slide as long as you do the right thing.”
Kazu and Nori exit.
Chieko’s face is stolid, but when I try to speak to her, anger hardens her eyes, and she shakes her head. “A Nazi monster killed our friends.”
“I know.”
“Do you?!” she rages, and leaves.
The only one left is Kujira. “Ignore them, man, and do whatever you want,” he says.
“Even if it means getting kicked out?”
“So what?” Kujira asks. “Get your priorities straight.”
“They are.”
“You sure about that?”
“What if things go wrong?”
“What’s the worst that can happen? She breaks your heart, betrays you, causes you to be miserable, and makes you want to jump off the bridge? That’s what love is, man.”
“Didn’t know you were an expert.”
“It’s not hard. Ain’t nothing worth dying for more than love.”
“I’m not in love.”
Kujira chuckles and states, “It was fun piloting with you,” as though he’s read my mind and knows my decision.
But I won’t make one. Not until I understand what Nori meant when she asked about Griselda’s connection to Hideki. I don’t want to ask, although a part of me begins to suspect. I force the doubts out of my head and wonder what in the world I’m supposed to do.
15
I get little sleep. I hate feeling judged. They were respectful about it, but it seems no matter what I do, there’s always criticism, whether it’s wanting to be a mecha pilot, the actions I took on the Quiet Border, and now even the friends I make. They should trust that I know what I’m doing. But do I?
I think about my kiss with Griselda and recall the first time I met her. She was in my homeroom, though we hadn’t actually talked. I saw her at the Gogo Arcade one day, playing a game called Dual Dragoness about two friends, Cindy and Mindy, who have to fight their way through yakuza thugs to retrieve Cindy’s boyfriend, Bimmy. I joined her, and we made it all the way to the end before being pummeled to death by the rail-gun-wielding boss. No continues were allowed, even when putting in more money, a conscious choice by the designers. We
were outraged.
“We almost had that!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get past that final boss.”
“We have to do it tonight! I won’t be able to do anything else if we don’t beat him.”
“We can try.”
We tried three more times before finally beating him. But before we could save Bimmy, we were required to face off against each other for Bimmy’s love.
“It’s all yours,” I told her.
“C’mon, you got to fight me.”
“You deserve it.”
I let go of the controls, but she refused to kill my character. Instead, we let the timer run out, and we both lost.
“Why did you do that?” I asked her.
“Friends come before anything,” she replied, and put her hand out. “I’m Griselda.”
“Makoto. Most of my friends call me Mac.”
“What other games do you like, Mac?”
I smiled. “Pretty much anything except those mindless puzzle games that suck up all your time and you don’t even remember what you just did.”
She laughed, and said, “I’m starving. Feel like dinner?”
* * *
• • •
I return for Leviathan testing. Dr. Shimitsu’s absence feels ominous.
None of the Tigers mention Griselda. Even after our practice time aboard the Leviathans ends early, at three, for the holidays, they talk about dinner plans like it’s business as usual. Except it’s not, and I have to go see Griselda.
I pace in front of her door, unsure what to say if it turns out she knew more about Hideki than she let me know. When I do knock, there’s no answer. I call her name a few times, but I don’t think she’s in. I feel relieved that I don’t have to confront her yet and am about to leave when I see her come around the corner with a gloomy disposition.
She brightens when she sees me. We hug tightly, and she says, “You have no idea how happy I am to see you. It’s been a looong day.”
“Same for me.”
Mecha Samurai Empire Page 36