A Warrior's Sacrifice (6 page)

Dull gray mushrooms basking in a perpetual twilight.

Elevator shafts gaped between each platform to ferry equipment and entire platoons of armored Tercio up from the depths. Nearby, one started its trek to the surface, lights and sirens clanging, adding to the din of people and vehicles and antigrav engines. A team of Support Loaders rushed across to the rising elevator, each driving their own lifter or crane. They made fast work of the pile of equipment that emerged, a constant stream of vehicles lifting and driving and swinging things into the open cargo transport nearby. They reminded Corwin of ants devouring a carcass.

With a thought, Corwin pulled up a map of Cargo City, searching for and finding his transport. He leapt forward in a full sprint after two steps, the suit adding speed with each stride. He swept past startled Loaders, Warriors, Pilots, jumped over open elevator shafts and, nearing his destination, slowed back to a walk with a few steps more.

Corwin sighed again; he still had a lot of time to burn. He drew his sword and practiced the basic sword positions: Daijo-dan — sword high overhead; To-stoy — handle back at the rear shoulder, blade pointed skyward; Seigan — blade pointed forward resting at waist height. He moved from one to the other with seamless, fluid motion, striking, deflecting, stabbing at imaginary enemies.

It turned into a meditation of sorts, each movement yielding the next, no thoughts, only feeling: step, turn, thrust, step, turn, over and over. The sword became a part of Corwin, an extension of his body that he controlled with as much ease and grace as his own appendages.

Citizens stopped, pausing in their tasks to watch a few fluid strikes before continuing on.

CHAPTER SIX

The flight to their destination was uneventful, the pilot keeping well within the safe airspace of Republic lands. Still, the Maharatha remained weary, since the Choxen often reached out with their flocks of genetically engineered winged beasts, but they did not this time. The crew and few other passengers bantered somewhat, but Corwin and his Void remained silent, Corwin reading up on Republic news and mission parameters.

The transport touched down in a field of hard-packed earth. The jets of superheated air scorched the dry ground, blasting clouds of dust and long-dead plants into the air. A soft breeze, snaking through the trees and tall green grasses, caught the dust clouds and whisked them towards the gray defensive walls that loomed over the dessicated ground of the landing field.

The Maharatha exited the ship, the edge of their boots crushing grooves into the desolate earth. Support Caste members rushed from gray doors in the wall, eager to unload the gear and supplies that the transport had delivered and get back to the bar. The Support Caste, in their loaders and trucks and carts, made way for the Void, passing on either side like a stream split by a rock.

The city's guards stopped the Maharatha at the gatehouse. Each brandished their holographic badge, and the guards ushered them through into the city.

Outpost-G5 was a five-square-kilometer plot of land too small to be known as anything other than its initial incorporation designation. In many ways it was a copy of New Detroit in small scale: plasteel roads; square, featureless buildings with domed roofs; that same orange-yellow twilight cast across the city from the ion shield. But there were things that were so different as to make Corwin believe he was now on an alien world.

The soldiers were alert here, lacking the eyes of the bored and underutilized. Carts rumbled past under Human or animal power, either towed with shoulder straps or pushed, the carts piled high with fresh produce. Citizens stood on street corners behind wheeled carts displaying figurines or chimes or other artistic works.

Corwin also saw caution in the way the outpost's citizens eyed
everyone
they encountered. Trust was a scarce commodity out here on the edge of civilization when the enemy looked like you.

Yet it suits them,
Corwin thought as he looked around.
They, like me and my Void, are the outsiders. They couldn't find a place or lost their privilege in the cities, so they came to the fringes, where things are still wild, to make a life for themselves without the constant harassment of the passcodes, the dreng, and jendr. They've traded protection for freedom.

Corwin had wondered when he was younger what caused these people to leave the cities to face hardship and danger every day. Having spent time crushed under the heel of the caste system, despised and Family-less, he understood their motivations. These people had lost everything that they and society valued, so they bound together into a collective, petitioned the Oniwabanshu for basic startup goods and weapons, then set out on their own, or as was more often the case, they were rounded up by the Oniwabanshu and moved. In return, the government gained raw resources, food, and other basic supplies to redistribute across the Republic while they repopulated the empty countryside of Earth.

From the looks the Void received as they strode through town to the city's military command post, the Oniwabanshu's presence, manifest as four Maharatha, was not appreciated.

Phae's voice crackled through the com. "They have lost respect for their betters."

"Shut it, Phae," Corwin said. "They came here to escape the oppression of the cities."

"That doesn't mean they can show us jendr without recourse."

"They were cast out of their Families. They are the stepping stones. Leave them be."

Phae didn't respond.

They arrived at a small building set to one edge of another walled area directly in the center of the city, a keep of sorts in the event the enemy made it through the outer defenses. The office sported none of the standard military objects; in place of the plasteel table was a dark red desk with carved legs and inlays of lighter woods. Behind it sat a chair made of leather and wood. A bench and matching chairs sat against one wall, all carved from the same material as the desk. Wood paneling covered the walls. The room was warm and inviting and jendr to an extreme. There was no reason that resources should be wasted like this.

The C.O. stood at attention when the four Maharatha entered, saluted. "Sirs and Ma'ams," he said, stepping from behind the desk, "my name is Oniwabanshu Settlement Mayor Yanmao. You give me dreng with your presence."

"Don't be too excited to see us. We're here because you can't take care of your own problems," Phae said.

His smile faltered. "May I ask what your mission entails?"

"No," said Corwin. "We are on the Oniban's business."

He brushed one hand through his short-cropped hair. "Yes. I understand. Whatever you need, you shall have."

With a few mental commands, Corwin forwarded the list of requisitioned items that had arrived with them. Yanmao's datapad chimed. "We need four bunks and a room for ourselves near the eastern gate. The equipment on that list will be stored near our quarters."

"As you request, sir," he said with a bob of his head.

During their conversation, Phae had wandered over to Yanmao's chair. She poked at the padded seat and backrest. "This room," she said, clasping her hands behind her back, "reeks of jendr, Yanmao."

Yanmao froze, dark skin turning pale.

Corwin sighed to himself; the last thing he wanted was to earn the animosity of an entire city's C.O., even if that city was small.

"Where are the standard-issue tables? The chairs?" She kicked at Yanmao's chair and sent it sliding away. "Tell me, right now, why I shouldn't turn you over to the Wei." Her hand slid to her sword, but she didn't draw it — not yet.

"Ma'am," Yanmao said bowing, "Sirs, we are an insignificant city. Everything we have, with a few exceptions, is produced locally from the excess goods after the Oniwabanshu takes its tithe."

"I find that hard to believe," Phae said.

"It is the truth, Ma'am. We requisition only the barest minimum from the Oniwabanshu, ensuring that we provide more than we take." He gestured to the desk and chairs. "We can do that because we make everything we need ourselves." His smile was genuine now, and only a tinge of fear showed through. He had practiced this speech many times or had to use it often. And in fact, it was a good argument; it was indeed more dreng to be self-reliant than to req goods from the greater Republic. It also provided them with a level of comfort and opulence unheard of inside the cities — the trade-off again being safety.

"Phae," Corwin said with a warning shake of his head.

She nodded as if accepting Yanmao's explanation, turned, and left the office. Kai and Chahal followed after. Corwin nodded at Yanmao and headed for the door.

"Sir," Yanmao said, extending one hand to arrest Corwin's departure. "If I may speak to you alone?"

Corwin paused. "Yes?" he said, turning towards Yanmao.

The Mayor pulled the door closed and held a finger up to his lips. From his desk he pulled forth a small device. He opened it, and a high-pitched whine filled the room, then increased into a range beyond hearing.

Corwin's hand fell to his sidearm as his head cocked to the side. "That is an unauthorized device."

Yanmao held his hands out, keeping them visible and well away from his body. "Sir, let me explain. I have some information regarding your mission."

"You should not have information on my mission."

"It was easy to deduce, sir. I put in a requisition for reinforcements to deal with the Quisling threat, and here you are."

Corwin nodded. "Did you make that here too?" He gestured at the blackout device on the desk.

"No, sir. We took it in a raid."

Corwin frowned harder. "And you use it now to disable my coms?"

"And anyone who might be listening. That's what I want to tell you." Yanmao lowered his voice. "The Ashi-Kage is alive and functioning here in this city — in this sector."

Corwin's answer was hushed as well. "How do you know? What proof do you have?"

Yanmao gestured to the blackout device. "This is far above my rank to requisition, sir."

Corwin nodded and holstered his pistol. "Why do you think this has anything to do with my mission?"

"The Ashi-Kage have their dirty jendr fingers into
everything
. If their network is broad enough, and out here on the frontier it surely is, then they have access to the Quislings and the Choxen."

Corwin clenched his jaw as he processed this new information.
The Ashi- Kage. Ugh.
"You show your dreng for bringing this information to me."

Yanmao bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Corwin thought a moment. "I'll keep you abreast of our findings."

"That would help me sleep at night, sir. Thank you."

Corwin turned to go, but paused at the door. "I will do what I can, but dealing with the Ashi-Kage is not my mission. Depending on what we find, I will forward it and requisition an Inquest from the Oniwabanshu."

"I understand also, sir. Thank you."

Corwin opened the door to find his Void together in huddled argument just outside.

"We need to get in there," Phae said.

"We've heard no gunshots nor sounds of struggle," Chahal said. "We should heed the advice of the First Exiles and be patient."

"Why don't you take your Exilist…"

"Everything is fine," Corwin said. The others turned to face him.

"What was that about?" Phae asked. She didn't keep the snarl from her voice.

"He…" Yanmao had spoken to Corwin, alone, under the protection of a blackout device. That meant that people were listening, that they may even have hacked the Maharathas' encrypted coms.

"It's none of your concern," Corwin said at last. "Let's get to our bunks and get the equipment squared away."

Phae grumbled but kept her mouth shut.

As Corwin fell in behind his Voidmates, he ground his teeth. The Choxen, Quislings, and now the Ashi-Kage. Criminals. They existed in the cracks and spaces created by constant war and destruction, an organization of people that served only themselves. Every society had them, and the Republic wasn't immune. The problem was that they had disseminated themselves so well, infiltrated every aspect of the Republic so thoroughly, that they were almost impossible to find.

Corwin's perception of the city had now changed. He no longer saw people who had tried to escape the confines and ill comfort of the cities; he now saw only vagabonds, brigands that waited, slavering in the darkness until his guard was down. That's why they called themselves the Ashi-Kage, the Shadow Leg. They were an apparition, seen and felt yet untouchable.

Corwin struck upon another thought, too, an unpleasant idea that he knew would rob him of sleep for weeks to come. Yanmao had spoken to Corwin. Alone.

Was the implication, then, that his Voidmates were not to be trusted? These three: Phae, Kai and Chahal, should be the people he trusted
most
, beyond those even related to him by blood.

The Choxen take you, Yanmao,
Corwin cursed.
You've alienated me again, pushed me farther away from the few people in the Republic that I might have trusted with my life.

CHAPTER SEVEN