Stars of Blood and Glory (32 page)

Yet the memory of the past few days still
haunted her—memories of her own selfishness that filled her with
shame and guilt. In the quiet moments that punctuated the long
darkness, they played constantly across her mind, in perfect, awful
clarity. She cringed as she remembered switching places with the
maid-servant Chizuko, thinking she was embarking on a harmless
adventure. How stupid she’d been! Stupid and selfish. And the
childish way she’d spurned Danica’s advice to take responsibility
for herself—that was just shameful.

The more these thoughts played across
Hikaru’s mind, the more she realized that she didn’t deserve to
return her people. The debt of honor she’d incurred would be
impossible to repay. And the shame she’d brought upon her brother,
at such a critical moment in the history of their people—it made
her shudder just to think about it.

The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door
hissed open again—but this time, no one rose to use it. Her body
tensed, and she rose to her feet, stepping tentatively over the
huddled bodies and ducking beneath the bulging hammocks. It took
her almost a full minute to get through, but soon she found herself
at the door of the pungent bathroom—and at the head of the corridor
leading to the airlock.

She hesitated for a moment and looked back
on the sleeping bodies of the soldiers. Her heart raced in her
chest, and she almost turned back—but her shame compelled her
forward, past the narrow wall cabinets with the EVA suits. In the
last few hours, she’d had a lot of time to think of ways to end her
life and absolve herself of her shame. While the traditional
methods would have involved disembowelment or beheading, in the
cramped quarters of the shuttle, that would have made a terrible
mess. Hanging, too, seemed impractical, considering how low the
ceiling was, and how little space she had in which to do it. No—the
best method was to climb into the airlock and space herself, the
way bandits and pirates had always done in the old adventure
stories. It was a clean, if somewhat terrifying way to go—but how
could she let her fear get the best of her now? No—if she truly
loved her brother, if she truly wanted to keep from staining his
honor, this was something she had to face without flinching.

The access panel felt cold against her
sweaty palm. She pressed her hand against it, and the heavy metal
door hissed and groaned open. Taking a deep breath, she stepped
into the narrow, windowless chamber, the edges of her vision
blurring as her heart continued to pound. Out of habit, she took
off her shoes as the door hissed shut; the hard metal floor felt
cold against her bare feet, but she was hardly aware of that
now.

“
I’m sorry,” she whispered,
reaching out with a trembling hand to open the exterior door. “I’m
so sorry—”

A large, heavy hand clamped down on her
wrist—a hand of metal. She gasped and jumped in surprise, then
turned to see the Roman sitting next to her. His laser-eye glowed
beneath the single caged bulb in he ceiling, and he narrowed his
good eye as if to scold her.

“
Eh?” he grunted. “What’s
this?”

“
Let go of me!” she shrieked,
jumping backwards. He complied, but stepped between her and the
exterior door, blocking her.

“
What are you doing here?” she
asked, trying to regain at least some of her composure.

“
I could ask you same question,”
he replied.

“
Well—I asked first!”

He folded his arms across his broad chest
and chuckled humorlessly. “Fair enough,” he said. “Why do you
think?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but as
realization struck her, a chill shot down her back and her stomach
dropped out beneath her. “No,” she whispered. “You can’t—you
wouldn’t—”

“
Breathe vacuum?” he said,
finishing her thought. “No. That would be against her
orders.”

“
Then why are you
here?”

He sighed. “Some people must
have solitude in order to think clearly. But for myself, I must
have solitude in order to feel. She is gone, and I
…
I feel
nothing.”

Hikaru nodded, the full weight of her guilt
bearing down on her. “You’re right,” she said softly. “It’s not—I
mean—”

Her body stiffened, and she bowed deeply
with her upper body almost parallel to the floor. “I am so sorry,”
she said, reverting without thinking to the language of her people.
“So sorry,” she repeated in Gaian. “It is my fault that she passed
the way that she did—my fault that any of this ever happened. I
fear I can never—”

A lopsided grin spread across Roman’s
half-cyborg face, and he threw back his head and roared with biting
laughter. Hikaru’s cheeks reddened, and in spite of the
circumstances she felt her hackles begin to rise.

“
Hey!” she said. “What are you
laughing at?”

“
At you, Princess. You truly do
think yourself to be center of universe, no? Your fault—ha! Danica
would have thrown you out of airlock in two seconds to save her
men.”

He laughed again, making her feel small and
insignificant. She clenched her fists, pulling herself up to her
full height.

“
Oh yeah? Then why did you come
after me? Why did you put your lives on the line to save
me?”

“
Same as for any mission,” said
Roman. “For the money.”

She frowned. “The money?”

“
But of course.”

“
That’s it? You’d risk your lives
just for
money?
”

“
Every day,” he said, smirking at
her. “What do you expect? We are mercenaries, no? It is in job
description.”

“
But—but what about your
honor?”

He drew in a deep breath and leaned back
against the door. “Honor? What about it?”

“
Well, if you were truly men of
honor, you—” she stopped short. “It wasn’t for me that she died,”
she said softly. “It was for you.”

Roman nodded. “And if Hameji had made
bargain, she would have sold you in heartbeat to save us.”

“
That’s—that’s horrible,” she
said, stiffening a little. Even so, the weight of guilt lifted ever
so slightly from her shoulders.

“
Now, it is my turn,” he said,
folding his arms once again. “Why are
you
here in airlock, Princess?”

She swallowed—from the way he eyed her, he
seemed to know the answer already. Even though it made no sense
that she should feel ashamed for her decision, she found herself
blushing as she tried to avoid his gaze.

“
I—I cannot go back to my
people,” she said, bowing quickly. “The way I have acted, the shame
I have brought on them—”

“
Shame? What shame?”

She shifted uneasily on her feet. “I have
been so foolish—so stupidly foolish. I ran away for the stupidest
reasons—”

“
And now you try to run away
again.”

“
What?” she said, blinking in
surprise. “Run away? No!”

“
But it is same thing—it
is
exactly
same thing. You think your shame is too much to bear, so
you wish to end it, thinking it honor to take your life. It is not
honor—it is greatest height of stupidity.”

Hikaru’s jaw dropped in shock. She’d never
heard anyone defame the customs of her people like this before.

“
Are you shocked by my words?
Then I will say it again—it is greatest height of stupidity, and
greatest height of selfishness. Among Tajji exiles, we say that to
live is greatest act of resistance.”

“
It’s—it’s not like that,” she
blurted. “A true warrior fights as one already dead—honor is worth
more than life.”

“
And are you warrior,
Princess?”

“
No,” she admitted, “but I have
to defend my people’s honor.”

“
Then go back to them,” he said.
“Return to palace and accept your place. If it is shame to run
away, then how is it shame to go back?”

She paused. As strange as it sounded, he had
a point.

“
Do you wish to know Danica’s
last words to me?” he asked, clasping his natural hand on her
shoulder. “She told me to live.”

Though he only had one eye that could become
teary, the sight made her choke up all the same. She wrapped her
arms around him and held him close, her face pressed up against his
metallic cyborg chest.

“
I’m sorry you had to lose her,”
she whispered.

He grunted and drew in a sharp breath. “So
am I.”

They held each other for a long while in
silence. The emotions of the last couple days swelled up in
Hikaru’s chest, and her shoulders began to tremble as she quietly
sobbed. He rubbed her back with his natural hand, and for the first
time since running away, she felt an overwhelming desire to go
home.

“
Now, Princess,” he said,
“promise me that you will stop running. Promise me that you will
return.”

“
I will,” she said, letting go of
him. “Although really, aren’t you just in this for the
money?”

He threw back his head and laughed—a warm,
jovial laugh, changed from before. “Perhaps,” he said. “After all,
it is in job description.”

She smiled. “Then finish the contract and
take me home.”

* * * * *

“
The Hameji fleets are beginning
to disperse, Your Highness. A quarter of their forces have already
jumped out of the system.”

“
Commander Tanaguchi reports that
the damage to the
Masamune’s
reactor core has led to a dangerous leak, and is ordering
an immediate evacuation.”

“
Send the
Kurefune
to recover his crew,” said
Katsuichi, leaning back in his command chair. “All other ships,
establish a perimeter but do not engage the Hameji unless engaged
first.”

“
Yes, your Majesty.”

“
Also,” he added, “move
the
Divine
Wind
away out
of the action. We’re too damaged ourselves to—”

A loud crack like the pop of a firecracker
interrupted his thoughts, followed by a sharp pain to his stomach.
He looked down and saw blood seeping through the folds of his robe.
Time slowed, and for a weirdly disorienting moment, all he could
think about was whether this meant he wouldn’t get to see his
sister again.

“
Master?” said Kenta. His eyes
widened, and his lips peeled back in a fearsome expression of
shock, horror, and outrage. Behind him, Colonel Webb stood up from
his seat, a submachine gun in his hand.

“
No—NO!”

In one smooth motion, the old samurai spun
on his heel and drew his sword, rushing on the colonel with all the
force of a falling meteor. He was too late, however. The bridge
rang with the sound of gunfire as the bullets tore right through
him. He screamed and swung his sword downward, but the colonel
easily sidestepped his blow. He rose up one last valiant time to
strike again, but collapsed to the floor in a rapidly growing pool
of his own blood.

“
Kenta!” Katsuichi screamed.
Adrenaline surged through his veins, drowning out the pain, but
when he tried to rise to his feet, he felt as if he were trapped
under water.

With the dispassionate look of a
fishmonger processing his catch, Colonel Webb turned his gun on the
crew of the
Divine Wind
. The bridge soon filled with screaming as horror turned to
panic. In such a confined space, however, they didn’t have a
chance. As Katsuichi watched on helplessly, the bullets tore
through his men, splattering the display screens and instrument
panels with blood. The gunnery officer almost made it to the door,
but Colonel Webb turned and made quick work of him before finishing
off the last of them. When it was over, only the moans of the dying
punctuated the terrible silence.

“
W-Webb,” said Katsuichi, trying
in vain to pull himself to his feet. “Why?”

The colonel ignored him and stepped over the
sprawled out body of the engineering officer to punch a series of
commands at his terminal. Alarms began to sound throughout the
ship, as flashing-red lights indicated an imminent system
failure—probably one of the systems that had been damaged in the
fighting.

“
Why!” Katsuichi screamed,
demanding an answer even as the life slowly spilled out of his
body.

“
I’m afraid I don’t have time to
stay and chat,” said the colonel, as smoothly as if they were
discussing a simple matter of propriety. “You see, this ship is
about to suffer a catastrophic reactor failure, and I simply cannot
afford to be on board when it does.”

“
But—but why?”

“
Please accept my sincerest
apologies for the loss of your men,” he added. “They were
unfortunate collateral in a matter that really had nothing to do
with them. It’s tragic, how many unnecessary lives are lost in the
course of war.”

“
You—you bastard!”

The bulkheads shook as something deep within
the bowels of the ship ruptured and broke. Smoke began to seep out
of the ventilation shaft—sickly-sweet smoke that smelled like
rotting flowers.

“
For their sakes, however,” said
Webb, walking calmly to Katsuichi’s side, “I suppose I owe you at
least an explanation. You see, once the rest of the Federation
realizes that the Hameji have been defeated, they’ll immortalize us
as war heroes and look to us for leadership in the new, post-Hameji
era. Seeing as you were the one who led this operation, you had the
most to gain—and for the sake of my career, I simply could not
allow that.”