CHILDREN
OF SARJALIM
by Angela
The earth was rising.
Ayame sighed as she watched--she’d seen a lot of planets, but none as
blue as this one. So much water--it was
odd to see so little land. Odd, but
beautiful. She pulled Daisuke’s jacket
more securely around her shoulders.
She’d taken it while he was still sleeping. Fishing the little plastic ID card from his pocket, she smiled. She’d found it earlier, and couldn’t resist
having another look at it.
The picture was tiny and sloppy, but it was definitely
Daisuke. His eyes squinted at the
camera and he wore a serious look on his face.
Ayame smiled; she knew that his dull expression hid a brilliant mind and
an overactive imagination. She studied
the details on the card: his height, weight, hair color, and blood type. He was born very recently in Earth
years--barely eighteen, if she figured it correctly. She wondered how old a child from that planet had to be to be
considered an adult.
He certainly behaved like one. She blushed, remembering how badly she’d acted the day before and
how very kind he’d been despite it.
She’d spent most of the day in turmoil over her decisions, and he didn’t
leave her side for a moment. Early this
morning, when she’d stealthily untangled herself from his arms, he’d protested
in his sleep, pulling her closer as she tried to slip away.
She looked again at the earth. His home. She knew from
the beginning that it was foolish; getting involved with Daisuke would only
complicate her job. But it was too late;
she’d already complicated it by listening to him, by looking at him.
“You’re not usually an early riser, Ayame.” Nadeshiko wove her way through the tangle of
flowers and weeds, smiling at Ayame’s startled expression. “Something on your mind?”
It wasn’t good that Nadeshiko had been able to catch her
off guard. Ayame reminded herself that
this longtime companion of hers--this friend--was not someone she could trust
anymore. She’d made up her mind to
stand by Daisuke and the others from Earth.
She laughed, surprising herself with how genuinely casual
it sounded. “Shukkaido’s operation,”
she answered easily. It was true; the
delicate procedure had been nagging the back of her mind for days now. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to do
anything so serious.”
Nadeshiko smiled, and Ayame longed for the easy friendship
they’d shared in the beginning, before Hinagiku complicated everything. After Nadeshiko fell in love with him, she
had hardly a moment to spare for Ayame or the others. She was always a solid captain, but the more personal
relationships had quickly faded away.
The rest of the crew had died relatively early in the mission, not long
after the destruction of their home; the pain of their deaths had been
intensified for Ayame by the feeling of being an outsider in the captain’s
exclusive relationship.
“You’ll be brilliant,” Nadeshiko assured her. “If the most talented doctor ever born can’t
manage a simple heart transplant, then I don’t know what the world is coming
to.” A dark confusion flickered over
the captain’s features as she realized what she’d said. The world had already come to its end; at
least their world had. Ayame was still
grappling with the idea that it was really over.
Nadeshiko pulled her pale blond hair away from her neck,
piling it on top of her head like a young girl testing an up-do. She gazed at the blue planet, unmistakable
anticipation in her eyes. “Has there
been any change in his condition? Your
patient, I mean.”
Ayame didn’t trust the artificial concern in her captain’s
voice. “None,” she replied
cautiously. In truth, she hadn’t been
in to check on him all night. Worry
prickled her spine. “Should there be?”
A slow smile curved Nadeshiko’s lips. “Oh no, I was just concerned. He is, after all, my responsibility. It would be terrible if anything happened to
him before he could get his operation.”
Ayame realized that she was supposed to see through her
captain’s doublespeak; she was supposed to be in on the game of exterminating
these young people. Her stomach
lurched, forcing her to swallow hard to keep the bile from rising in her
throat. How could they believe for a
moment that she would be part of their massacre?
She squeezed Daisuke’s ID card in her hand, grateful for
the painful cut of plastic in her skin.
It was good that her one-and-a-half million vials of DNA were slowly
thawing into useless bio-matter. She
had made the right decision. Even
without considering the complicated feelings she had for Shukkaido and Mikuro,
for Mokuren and Enju, for Daisuke, refusing to continue her mission was the
only choice she had. “I should prepare
for the surgery,” she said nervously, anxious to check Shukkaido’s condition.
She thought she saw Nadeshiko’s eyes narrow, but then the
captain smiled, showering Ayame with her radiant beauty. “By all means,” Nadeshiko said
graciously. “I’m sure Sarjalim will be
with you.” She reached out and clasped
Ayame’s hand in an affectionate gesture.
Ayame pulled away, immediately self-conscious that she’d
reacted too abruptly. She laughed. “She’ll almost need to be.” Pulling Daisuke’s jacket more snugly against
her, Ayame turned to go.
She tried to keep her pace even and unhurried, but it was
hard to be casual with Nadeshiko’s eyes boring into her back.
*****
Trying to distract herself from the milling turmoil in her
head, Alice wandered aimlessly through the dim, mossy halls of the moon
base. She dragged her fingers over the
walls as she walked, getting peace from the springy plants that grew
there. Occasionally she paused to
whisper to a flower or clump of leaves, amazed by their tenacious will to live
in such an environment. Shion would
have gone mad, waking to find creepers springing through the cracks in the
walls and ceilings. Alice smiled, remembering
his almost-neurotic drive to keep things clean.
Those days that had seemed so tragic, so awful, were
nostalgic now. Alice almost missed the
pain of watching her companions die, of learning of her planet’s demise--at
least Mokuren had things to feel. All
Alice could do was wait--anxiously watch and wait for things to happen.
She turned down a corridor and paused, confused. She barely remembered this part of the
maze-like base. She blinked at the lush
vegetation pushing through the floor, reaching in the dimness for the
energy-giving lights. It looked like no
one had walked through there in years.
Alice whispered an apology to the grasses and groundcover she trod upon,
and crept forward. She had no fear of
meeting Hinagiku or any of the others--when she had come close to Hinagiku’s
room earlier that morning the plants had warned her to go, whispering their
frantic cautions in her mind until she fled the opposite direction.
Beyond the occasional greeting and exclamation of surprise
of meeting one kindred, the plants were silent here. Alice walked slowly down the corridor, confused by the lack of
doors on either side. Apparently the
hall led directly to one room and was not an access route to several, as was
usually the case. She wondered what kind
of room was so special that it had to be separated from the living and working
quarters. She strained at the edges of
her memory to find some clue in Mokuren’s past about this place, but nothing
came.
When she finally reached the end of the corridor, Alice
stopped. There seemed to be no
door. She slid her hands beneath the
curly shoots of a fern, searching for a knob or button. Nothing.
She paused, wondering at this hallway leading nowhere. It was impossible. The designers of this base would not have made that kind of
mistake.
Sing.
It was almost an impulse, a fluttering behind her
consciousness like a flickering of light.
Alice blinked in confusion.
Sing, it pulsed again in the voices of flowers.
She looked wonderingly at the fragrant vine of moonflowers
that dipped low above her head. “Thank
you,” she whispered, tracing the fluted edges with her fingertips. She sensed their merry laughter at her
touch--how simple it would be to be a flower.
Out of habit, Alice looked behind her, checking to make
sure no one had followed her and would hear her singing. The song was already filling her, waiting to
escape. It was Rin’s favorite. Relaxing at the thought of her friend, she
let her voice fill the hall with the soft melody. At first it seemed muffled, as if the moss were absorbing her
song, but gradually her voice grew stronger.
She closed her eyes, almost feeling the squeeze of Rin’s fingers around
hers as she reached his favorite lines.
She heard a scrape and felt the sigh of old air on her
face. She opened her eyes. The wall was gone, having slid away to
reveal a darkened room.
Alice stepped into the chamber, her eyes wide in the
darkness as she strained to see. The
scent of the air reminded her of Shion and of the others--it was the scent of
her memories. The panel slid closed
behind her, and for a moment she was alone in pitch darkness.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, the room
brightened and the silence was filled with a hum like the resonance of a tuning
fork. Pinpoints of light glowed on the
domed ceiling, and Alice recognized the patterns as constellations--Adru, the
boar; Yokitzu, the warrior. None of
these were stars she knew from Earth; this was Mokuren’s sky. In the center of the room stood a pedestal
holding a huge glowing ball. It pulsed
with a faint green light, almost pulling Alice toward it against her will.
She remembered this place. Only once had Mokuren been there, early in the mission when there
was still a hope that they wouldn’t be spending the rest of their lives on
Earth’s moon. Alice walked to the
orb. She instinctively knew that it
would be cool to the touch.
It responded to her, glowing a fiercely as she pressed her
fingers on its smooth surface. Tendrils
of light arched toward her fingertips, bright enough to make her blink. Alice felt surges of power flowing up the
arteries in her hands and arms, circulating her body through her blood. It was cool and comforting. This was the power of the goddess. The stars above her glimmered and flashed,
drawing her eyes upward to watch the vibrant show of lights.
You are recognized as a Child of Sarjalim. The words formed themselves in
Alice’s mind--not in Japanese but still completely understood. Select a destination, Chosen One. Images of star maps surged through her
consciousness, spinning her through countless planetary systems before
narrowing in on the one place she longed to be--the planet Earth.
Breathing hard, Alice pulled away. This was a transporter. This was why a Sarjalian was needed on every
space mission. She remembered Mokuren’s
hunger to use this to go to the planet, to embrace the earth as one of its
creatures.
Alice blinked in sudden realization. They could go home. Without having to worry about Haruhiko or
anyone else getting sick, they could go home.
Singing a few compulsory notes, she opened the door and
fled down the corridor. Elation flooded
her every nerve--she was still a Child of Sarjalim. The goddess hadn’t abandoned her. She hadn’t realized until just that moment how much it had hurt
her to believe that Mokuren’s power wasn’t flowing through her veins. She needed to tell someone. Not Rin--he had always believed in her and wouldn’t
understand her doubt. Shukkaido.
“Haruhiko!” her voice was breathless and excited as she
burst into the room hurried to his bedside.
“It’s so amazing! I have the
power of Sarjalim! I can take us home!” She picked up his hand and squeezed
gently. Of course she got no response,
not even the tiniest fluttering of eyelashes, but she knew better than to be
disappointed. His operation was
scheduled for that day. Soon he’d be
able to smile and talk to her like he had that first day in the park so long
ago.
She combed his hair from his forehead, secretly promising
herself to make a point to include him in her day-to-day life. More than just a shared history bonded the
seven of them. She was beginning to
realize that. Without hesitating, she
spilled out the details of her discovery, her elation growing as she realized
that they could go home at any time.
The door opened suddenly and Ayame bustled in, looking
professional in a clean white jumpsuit and operating cap. “I’ll have to chase you both out now,” she
said briskly. Alice looked up in alarm,
noticing for the first time that Mikuro sat on Ayame’s cot, watching her. She felt her face burn--she hadn’t meant to
share her zeal with him as well. He
stood slowly, looking briefly at Alice before meeting Ayame’s gaze.
“I’m not leaving,” he said stubbornly, his eyes flickering
from Ayame to Haruhiko’s still form.
“You need an assistant, right?
Let me help.”
Ayame laughed.
“Absolutely not.” She pressed a
button and a series of robotic arms released themselves from the wall. Alice was surprised; she hadn’t noticed them
there. “My assistant doesn’t make
mistakes and it certainly doesn’t second-guess my decisions.” She glowered good-naturedly at Mikuro. “Besides,” her tone was suddenly
serious. “You don’t want to see this.”
Alice wasn’t about to argue. She amazed herself by grasping Mikuro by the arm and guiding him
into the hallway. She didn’t let go
until she heard the quiet click of the door lock.
“You look different,” Mikuro commented as he pulled away
to peer into the door’s tiny window.
“It’s like you’re standing up straight for the first time.” It was clear that he was more interested in
the proceedings within, but Alice sensed that he really noted the change in
her.
She smiled. “I
feel different. For the first time, I
feel like I can help. I almost feel . .
. .” She hesitated, the words not
coming easily. “I almost feel like
Mokuren,” Alice finished quietly.
Mikuro turned, a bright look in his usually stern
eyes. “I think you can learn a lot from
her, Sakaguchi.” The barest hint of a
smile edged his mouth.
She felt herself grinning, flushed with pleasure at his
use of her real name. She suspected
that he might be right. The residual
power that seemed to hum through her body might not amount to anything, but it
made her feel self-assured and confident in a way she hadn’t felt since
Mokuren’s lifetime. Even the idea of
running into Hinagiku didn’t scare her as much as it had earlier.
“Please watch over Haruhiko,” she said as a farewell. “Thank you for encouraging me.” She bowed briefly and ran up the hallway,
suddenly longing to explain everything to Rin.
*****
For the first time in his life, Ogura Jinpachi knew
everything. He smirked to himself as
the unlocked door gave easily under his touch.
Nadeshiko and Hinagiku were in the library; Issei had planted himself
nearby so that he could telepathically warn Jinpachi if they were headed his
way. Ayame was in the operating room,
probably just beginning Haruhiko’s surgery.
Mikuro was hovering outside the door of the operating room; he wouldn’t
budge until allowed to go inside. Alice
was in Mokuren’s garden, Rin was in the library, and Sakura was posted down the
hallway, ready to sprint up and warn him if anyone came that way. It was good to be in on the truth, to know
everything that was going on. It made
Jinpachi feel important.
He slid the door shut behind him, fishing a pair of latex
gloves from his pockets. Sakura had
warned him not to touch the samples, not to inhale them, not to even stay in
the room for very long. He slid a
filtering paper mask over his mouth--it reflected his hot breath back onto his
face, making him realize that he was sweating.
For the first time since coming to the moon, he was too hot.
Nadeshiko’s desk was cluttered with papers and
charts. Jinpachi scanned a few,
realizing quickly that they were the demographics of the earth that he himself
had compiled as Gyokuran. Thinking that
he’d inadvertently helped them made his stomach hurt. He crumpled one map in his fist; it seemed fitting that he should
also be the one to ruin their plans.
He moved over to the worktables. They were much neater.
Jinpachi scanned both tables for small vials, but found none. Sakura had predicted that. Following her instruction, he shifted his
attention to the huge box refrigeration unit.
He opened the lid, enjoying the cool air that flowed against his
face.
The cooler was stacked with trays, and each tray--Jinpachi
did a quick count--held two-dozen tiny bottles. He pulled the first tray out, glad to see that the serum inside
the vials was frozen. That would make
things a lot easier. He pulled his pack
from his back and dumped the vials inside.
Soon it was nearly full, and surprisingly heavy.
He slid the pack back over his shoulders and carefully
stacked the trays back inside the freezer.
He scanned the room quickly, but it was clear that this was the only
cooler. Slamming the lid shut, he
hurried to the door. Now his time was
crucial. He had to destroy them before
they thawed--he wasn’t completely sure that the bottles hadn’t cracked when
he’d tossed them into his backpack.
“You got them all?”
Sakura fell into place with him as soon as he was out the door.
“Two hundred forty,” he answered quickly. “It looks like they were going to hit the
planet with it one region at a time.
How soon can you crash their computers?”
Sakura grinned, and Jinpachi realized how much he liked
hanging out with her. “I took care of
that as soon as Issei verified that they were out of the lab.”
Jinpachi followed her down the maze of corridors until
they reached the space jettison port.
He swung the bag from his back, but hesitated before shoving it into the
portal. “I don’t like the idea of
leaving this up here,” he said quickly.
“Suppose people really do come back to the moon to build resorts or
whatever. Won’t they get infected?”
Sakura looked up at him, snapping a latex glove over her
hand. “I’m sure they’ll do quality
control tests before letting anyone build false atmospheres. Besides, I don’t think this virus can live
for more than a few weeks outside of a host.
The freezing temperatures may prolong the lifespan a bit, but not by
much.” She opened their end of the port
and grinned at him. “Ready to save the
world?”
“Always.” Jinpachi
unzipped the bag and dumped the cascade of samples into the bin. He didn’t want to give up the backpack--it
was his favorite. Sakura met his eye
and shook her head. It was probably
contaminated. He shoved it into the bin
along with his gloves and mask. Sakura
tossed her gloves in, too. “They’re
gonna wonder how this got up here,” he joked as he closed the little door.
Sakura snickered.
“I suspect they’ll wonder about this base, too,” she commented
dryly. She pressed the jettison button
and they heard a mechanical click and swish as the airlock opened outside the
base.
“So we’re done with phase one.” Jinpachi wanted to let Issei know right away, but didn’t have the
telepathic gift to contact him. Phase
two had begun--waiting for Nadeshiko and the others to realize they’d been
robbed.
“Should we tell the others now?”
Jinpachi was startled; Sakura never asked him for
advice. “Soon,” he said slowly. “We’ll need them when it comes to the
fight--”
“Phase three.” Her
interruption was almost a giggle. She’d
been laughing at his names for each segment since he’d first suggested them.
“Yes,” he conceded, “phase three.” A shiver of fear ran down Jinpachi’s
spine. He was nervous about explaining
things--he wasn’t sure how the others would react--but they had no choice but
to unite soon. All together, seven
against three, he had no doubt that they could win. But one-on-one? Jinpachi
didn’t relish the idea of meeting Hinagiku alone in a dark corridor.
*****
After forty minutes of searching, Issei found Sakura in
the chapel. He paused in the doorway,
awed by the gentle diffusion of light that radiated from the shrine, washing
over an otherwise dim, ordinary chamber.
He wondered where the light originated; it seemed to have no source but
the painting of Sarjalim itself. Sakura
was on the floor in the midst of this mystic glow. She sat still, almost meditative in the silent room.
He came to her as silently as possible and lowered himself
to the floor, twisting his legs in the lotus position to match hers. For a long time they didn’t speak--Sakura
stared silently at Sarjalim, keeping her face expressionless and thoughts to
herself. Issei pretended to do the
same, but stole quick glances at her instead.
She was beautiful.
Issei’s pulse quickened. Sakura
had always been pretty in an unexceptional sort of way, but this was the first
time she seemed to glisten with beauty.
He wondered if he was looking through biased eyes or if, for the first
time, his preconceptions had been lifted.
Things had changed between them in the eight days since
she kissed him. Issei could barely
comprehend that it had been just a week--it seemed to him that months had
passed. He waited for her to finish
praying, all the while trying to sort out his thoughts. For the first time with Sakura, words didn’t
come easily. He almost didn’t have the
nerve. After all, the things he needed
to tell her weren’t pressing--in the shadow of a pandemic catastrophe they
seemed almost trivial--and he knew he would find time enough to explain before
it was all over.
She turned to him finally, her eyes unconsciously bright
with happiness to see him. Issei’s
heart lurched. Of course he would tell
her.
“Everything went beautifully, Issei,” she said smiling
before he had summoned the courage to speak.
“The virus is gone, the computers are jammed, and neither Jinpachi nor I
were even the littlest bit contaminated!”
He nodded.
“Jinpachi told me. He complained
about your lack of skill with a needle though.” Apparently a blood test had been required to ensure a clean bill of
heath. The bruise on his friend’s arm
was enough to make Issei glad it wasn’t him.
Sakura sniffed. “I
never claimed to be a doctor,” she said loftily. Then she giggled, leaning in toward him conspiratorially. “But I never told him just how unsteady and
clumsy I am, either.”
Issei laughed with her, but he didn’t really want to talk
about Jinpachi. “Sakura,” he began
seriously. “I’ve been needing to talk
to you.” It took all the control he
could muster to keep his voice from shaking.
She looked away, pulling her knees up against her chest
and wrapping her arms around them.
“It’s okay, Issei,” she said quietly.
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. I saw the way he was looking at you in the
capsule room. I felt your
reaction--your whole body was shaking.”
She sighed, twirling her shoelace around her finger. “I knew you’d come to tell me soon,” her
voice broke and she pressed her forehead to her knees. “I just kind of hoped it wouldn’t be this
soon.”
She had it all wrong.
Issei wanted to laugh, but he wanted to cry because she was crying. He wanted to put his arms around her and
explain everything, but he couldn’t because every little thing meant so much
more now. “I turned him down.” That was all he could manage in his confusion.
She didn’t speak, didn’t move. Issei didn’t breathe. For
a long time he didn’t know if she’d heard him.
“I turned him down,” he repeated.
“I heard you.” Her
voice was muffled and unnaturally high.
Taking a deep breath, Issei continued. “I told him it was time to move on, that we
couldn’t be ruled by our pasts. I told
him I didn’t want to die with regrets this time.” He hadn’t expected to have to explain this to her. Even as he said it, a tiny part of him, the
part that was more Enju than Issei, cried out in alarm that he’d done something
so foolish. But he knew he’d made the
right choice; this time around the regrets would lie beyond Gyokuran.
“Oh Enju,” her voice was little more than a sigh. “I’ve gotten you confused and you’ve gone
and done something stupid, haven’t you?”
She looked up him, her tears dried and a simple smile of resignation on
her face. “You’ve waited two lifetimes
for this, haven’t you?” she scolded. “I
want you to march right back to Gyokuran and tell him you’re in love with him.”
Issei stared at her face, amazed at how little of her true
emotions she showed there. Only a quiet
sadness in her eyes gave her away. “I
thought of you,” he said softly, reaching out to catch her hand in his. “Jinpachi was talking to me, telling me
everything I thought I wanted to hear, but in my head there was only you. I knew I’d regret it, giving up what I want
for what Enju wanted.”
“What you want?” Sakura echoed in a whisper, looking down
at their clasped hands.
Issei struggled against his shyness. Tugging gently on her hand, he tipped her
closer. Her long hair brushed against
his wrist as he steadied her with a hand on the shoulder. For a moment he looked into her eyes,
excited by the disbelieving anticipation he saw there. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth
against hers, kissing softly.
She responded gently, tightening her grip on his hand and
leaning closer. Her lips parted beneath
his and for a while Issei was aware of no more than the sweet taste and warmth
of her. When they finally separated,
both were flushed and slightly breathless.
“Are you sure?”
Sakura’s lips were pink and damp, her eyes bright. “I don’t think I could stand being second to
Jinpachi.”
Issei smiled. She
thought she knew him too well to trust him, did she? He closed his eyes, concentrating his energy on convincing
her. It took just a moment to get his
mind into hers; she left it open to him, almost welcoming.
I’m in love with you.
He sent the message telepathically, unsure he had the confidence
to say the words out loud. Since
coming here, I’ve learned to separate myself from Enju. Enju loved Gyokuran. I see only you. To punctuate his thoughts, he concentrated a rush of his own
emotions and pushed them in her direction.
He felt her response, less in words than in feelings. He felt the lurch of her heart, the
overwhelming happiness that showed itself in a myriad of brilliant colors. “Issei,” Sakura breathed, adding her voice
to the whirling spectrum in his mind.
“You’re all I ever wanted.”
Her words were laced with suggestive emotion, and suddenly
Issei’s body demanded to have her. Not
breaking their mental connection, he pulled her tightly against his body,
claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss.
If her physical response was enthusiastic, her mental reaction was
almost primal, and he lowered her to the floor in his need to get closer. For the first time in his life, Issei
understood the clawing need that drove the boys in his class to waste valuable
study time in the pursuit of love.
Nothing mattered but the girl pinned beneath him.
Passion and love flashed between their minds in hot
colors, and before long Issei could no longer tell the source of any particular
feeling. His emotions mingled so
solidly with hers that they scarcely seemed to belong to separate people. Her kisses were frantic and her hands slid,
hot and possessive, on his back beneath his shirt. Issei, I need you. Her
pleading voice in his mind matched the glow in her eyes.
He wanted to.
Somehow he remembered this; it hadn’t been him or Sakura, but he
remembered the driving need and the explosive culmination. He remembered the physicality of bonding,
and he wanted to feel that close to Sakura.
But a half-memory pulled at the corner of his mind; wasn’t
he already that close to her? Her
brainwaves were as familiar as his own; the colors of her mind branded into his
memory as solidly as any lover’s. His
eighteen-year-old body demanded it--hers did, too--but some lingering memory
hinted that too much too soon could hurt for too long.
Enju.
Sakura, privy to all that had been spinning through his
mind, understood. She blinked, somehow
regaining some kind of inner calm in the instant that her eyes were
closed. The colors that swirled between
them cooled, gradually changing from vivid oranges and reds to gentle shades of
blue and purple. Issei was breathless
and shaking, noticing her bruised lips and flushed face. He wasn’t sure what had come over them. He moved away from her, situating himself
upright on the cool floor.
“I think it was the telepathy,” Sakura said quietly,
pushing her hair from her eyes. “It
bonded us closer, without the usual hesitation as you wonder what the other
person wants.”
Even as she spoke, Issei could hear the giddy anticipation
of truly intimate sex echo in her mind.
“Not yet.” Issei spoke for his
own benefit; his body was already responding to her mental suggestion. “We can’t do this.” He quickly ended the telepathy, building
fast barriers between their minds.
They were quiet for a long time, holding hands as they got
used to the silence and loneliness in their minds. Issei stared at the portrait of Sarjalim, abashed at the thought
of what he’d almost done before the face of the goddess. It had been the same with Enju and Gyokuran--she’d
played around with mental links, and soon they were overwhelmed and in bed
together. That was why she’d never
gotten over him; she knew his mind too well to really believe he might have
been using her.
Sakura dropped her head onto his shoulder, surprising
Issei from his memories. “I love you,”
she whispered easily. “And if there
were anyone I’d want to lose control with, it’d be you.”
He smiled. She was
absolutely--
Two loud retorts--the sound of gunshots--made them both
jump. The scream that followed chilled
Issei’s blood. “Oh my God,” he said
quietly, working hard to control the panic welling inside him.
Sakura clutched his arm, terror in her eyes. “That sounded like Alice,” she cried,
finishing his thought.
*****
Jubilant singing drew Rin to the garden. She sounded happy, almost powerful. She didn’t seem to notice when he opened the
door--she faced away, gazing happily at the earth as she sang and watered
plants. “Alice?”
She spun around, a happy smile on her face. “Oh Rin!
Today Haruhiko has his operation and we can go home!” She rushed through the tangle of flowers to
catch him in a tight hug. “And once
we’re home, we can forget about all of this!”
Rin blushed, not used to spontaneous affection from
her. He enjoyed the feeling of her arms
around him, but he was too aware of himself and his love for her to hug
back. He wondered what had caused her
sudden turnaround--just yesterday she’d been listless and miserable.
She pulled away and beamed happily at him, humming again
as she turned back to the care of her flowers.
Rin hated to burst her bubble, but there was no way they’d be going home
without some kind of showdown with the aliens.
Destroying their DNA library wasn’t really enough--as long as Hinagiku
and Nadeshiko had control of the base, they had the power to destroy the
planet. He didn’t want to leave them
that option, especially once they discovered their grand plans were
sabotaged.
All alien worries aside, Rin wasn’t even sure how they
could get back to the planet. There was
no way any of them would allow Kasama Haruhiko to help transport them, new
heart or not. Without his power, Rin
couldn’t be sure they’d all make it home.
“I’ve discovered the most wonderful room,” Alice
announced, seeming to hear Rin’s unvoiced concerns. “Apparently Mokuren had the power, in this special room, to
teleport everyone to whatever location she wished--it’s some kind of
transporter. I hadn’t remembered it at
all until I stumbled across it this morning.”
She stepped lightly over to the water faucet to refill her watering
can. “And guess what, Rin! I can activate it! It recognized me as Mokuren, so I can take us all home as soon as
Haruhiko is better!”
Rin was astounded.
He hadn’t remembered anything about a transporter. If what Alice said were true, then he could
send her back before Hinagiku and the others even noticed anything was
wrong. His mind whirled. He’d send Enju and Shusuran back, too. And Shukkaido, as soon as he was able. That left just himself, Gyokuran, and
Hiiragi to fight, but their odds would be better if they didn’t have to protect
those who couldn’t help.
“What a fortunate discovery.” A cold voice interrupted Rin’s attempt to answer her. Hinagiku stepped into the room, looking
darkly at Rin before focusing his gaze onto Alice. “But my dear Mokuren, I thought we had a deal. In return for your safety, you weren’t
supposed to remember anything.” He shot
a quick glance at Rin. “It was for the
safety of you and your friends.
Certainly you haven’t remembered anything else to go along with this
latest revelation, have you?”
The need to protect her made Rin impulsive. He ran through the tall grasses to place
himself between Alice and Hinagiku.
“Leave her alone,” he yelled, knowing he sounded like a little kid, but
not able to help it.
Alice surprised him by putting her hands on his shoulders
and moving him out of the way. “I know
who you are, Kiku,” she said steadily, stepping a fraction closer to
Hinagiku. “You’re nothing but a
phony--a Sarjalian who couldn’t make it on his own so he had to steal his
mentor’s identity. Mokuren would say
that you’re pretty pathetic, and I think everyone in this research station
would agree.”
Rin was shocked.
Alice didn’t talk that way even to her own brother. She sounded like Mokuren. He’d been waiting a lifetime to hear that
voice again, but now, in this situation, it was the last thing he wanted.
Outrage and flickering confusion sparked in Hinagiku’s
eyes. “I warned you,” the Sarjalian
said matter-of-factly, grabbing Alice’s arm.
The watering can dropped with a wet clatter at their feet. He pulled her closer, cupping her cheek with
one hand. Alice looked terrified. “I would’ve let you live, Mokuren. I would’ve protected you from the others, if
you’d only listened to me.” The man
slid a strand of her long hair between his fingers. “Beauty is a valid bargaining tool,” he almost whispered. “Don’t you realize the power you could hold
over men like me?”
Alice’s eyes filled with tears, but she surprised Rin by
blinking them back. “I’d rather be
dead,” she assured Hinagiku in a firm voice, “than have anything to do with
you!”
Hinagiku laughed.
“Ah, that’s the spunk I remember.
It’s always better when they’re feisty, isn’t it, Shion?” He turned his smirking eyes to Rin.
Rin’s stomach lurched--he felt like all the wind had been
knocked out of him. He stumbled back
helplessly, not able to summon the fury that comment deserved. It was true--he was no better than this
monster.
The Sarjalian continued.
“You wanted to steal her power, didn’t you?” he taunted. “You wanted to make her cry and beg and
still wake up without the goddess’s favor.
Were you disappointed?” He
pushed Alice’s bangs away with one hand, revealing the deep red of a Kitche on
her forehead. “Were you disgusted that
you hadn’t changed a thing?”
“I loved her!”
Shion’s rage pushed past Rin’s guilt, focusing into hot pain behind his
eyes. “Mokuren kept her Kitche because
Sarjalim knew that. She believed in us
and loved us.”
“Rin!” Alice
twisted and squirmed in the older man’s grasp, but he didn’t release her.
Hinagiku laughed; it was a bitter, nasty sound. Rin wanted to leap at him, to yank Alice
from his grip and slowly break every bone in his body. But he was too small. He also knew that, as a Sarjalian, Hinagiku
was at least twice as powerful as him, and though he was willing to risk his
own life, he couldn’t do anything that might jeopardize Alice.
“Stupid boy!
Sarjalian chastity is a myth!
There is no Sarjalim! Our genes,
not some all-powerful goddess, decide our abilities! The whole point of guaranteeing a Sarjalian’s virginity was too
keep their dominant genes from creating a super race of powerful beings.”
Rin closed his eyes, trying not to hear, trying not to
believe the logic in the other man’s argument.
He’d thought it was a miracle.
“I’m sorry to shatter your illusions.” Hinagiku’s voice was hard with
laughter. He slid an arm around Alice’s
waist, pulling her entire body against his.
She clenched her eyes closed, pushing hard against his chest. Hinagiku looked at Rin over Alice’s
head. He smirked.
“No!” Rin stepped
forward, his hands already tingling with fighting energy. “I’m not a coward who hides behind a woman,”
he taunted. “If you were any kind of
man you’d let her go and fight me.”
The Sarjalian seemed to consider this. He arched his brow, summing Rin up as an
opponent. Rin knew he had the upper
hand at first, since Hinagiku would underestimate his power because of his
size. If he could surprise him from the
outset, they’d have a chance. “Let her
go and fight me,” he repeated.
Hinagiku pushed Alice away; she fell against a table and
slid to the ground. Rin glanced at her
to assure himself that she was okay.
She looked stunned, but her eyes were open and she returned his
look. Rin turned his attention to his
enemy.
Hinagiku gathered his energy. In what seemed like slow motion, Hinagiku released a burst of
brilliant white fire from his hands.
Rin dodged easily, rolling beneath the blast and back to his feet, even
as the fire scorched the wall behind him, shriveling the plants into twisted
black ash. Before the man could pull
into a defensive stance, Rin was reacting.
His mind scooped up all the tiny rocks and broken tiles scattered
throughout the room and he flung them, high speed, at Hinagiku.
A few hit their mark, leaving long cuts along the alien’s
arms and face, but a sudden burst of gunfire made Rin lose his
concentration. At the same moment a
burning pain tore across his upper arm.
His missiles fell, harmless, to the floor as he spun to identify the
shooter. Nadeshiko stood panting in the
doorway, a handgun clenched in her fists.
“Rin!” Alice
screamed.
Rin looked down, searching for the source of the
pain. His arm was bloody; long streams
of red leaked from his bicep and down to his wrist. He had no idea he could bleed so much. He was shocked at the sight of it, at the warmth of it as it
drenched the long sleeve of his shirt.
“You destroyed everything, you stupid brat!” Nadeshiko snarled, her weapon trained on
Rin. She crossed the room in a few long
strides and looked up at Hinagiku. “My
lab was ransacked. All of my samples,
my data--it’s all gone.
“How in Sarjalim’s name did you let that happen?” Hinagiku’s voice was cold. He shoved Nadeshiko away from him, disgust
making his handsome face vulgar. She
slipped on the wet tile and fell, her pistol clattering to the floor next to
her. She landed awkwardly, crying out
and grabbing the leg she’d fallen upon.
Hinagiku leaned over her, his hands gripping air.
Nadeshiko yelped again, trying to shield her leg from his
telekinetic squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she
whispered hoarsely, her face going white.
“I have backup. I memorized the
formulas--I can make more.”
Rin had no idea what they were talking about, but it
sounded to him like Jinpachi or one of the others had stumbled upon another
element in the plan to take the planet.
The idea gave him hope, but at the moment it was hard to concentrate on
anything but the burning throb of his left arm and Alice’s steady sobbing.
He had to stop this.
Internally, he called on Shion.
Shion had given him the strength to fight Tamura and Mikuro the year
before. He’d given him the strength to
teleport with broken bones and internal bleeding. Though his body was weaker now, Rin needed the power to
fight. He needed to protect Alice.
Rin took advantage of Hinagiku’s diverted attention. He concentrated on forming a thin rope of
air pressure, moving it with his mind until it encircled the young man’s
neck. With a quick thought, the
pressure tightened, immediately choking the Sarches. Hinagiku stiffened, his hands grasping for the invisible vice at
his throat. His eyes went wide and he
looked at Rin in shock. For a long moment
Rin felt satisfied, watching the man’s face turn red and then purple with
asphyxiation.
“Let him go,” Nadeshiko screamed from her place on the
floor, dragging herself across the tile to reach her fallen weapon. Rin was amazed that the woman would be so
loyal to a man who’d obviously broken her leg.
He tightened his hold on Hinagiku, taking a sort of pleasure in the
feeling of the man’s breath being squeezed out of him. It didn’t cross his mind that Nadeshiko
would really reach her pistol until he heard the familiar crack and felt a zing
of air past his ear.
His hold on Hinagiku’s throat slackened as he
unconsciously shifted his attention to the blonde woman. In another instant he was on the floor, his
whole body vibrating with residual energy.
His ears were ringing and seemed damp with blood or water. Rin didn’t know what kind of power Hinagiku
had at his disposal, but evidently he’d just faced a blast head-on.
Alice was yelling.
At first that was all he was aware of.
The stun from the blow made his head spin, and he felt like his whole
body was on fire. Hinagiku must have
recovered instantaneously. Rin opened
his eyes. Alice was on top of
Nadeshiko, clawing at the woman’s hands as she tried to pry the gun from her
fingers.
“Al-lice,” he croaked, his parched throat burning. She was going to get herself killed,
fighting an armed woman like that, but Rin didn’t seem to have the power to
stop her.
His body lifted into the air, and Rin shook the fuzziness
from his brain. Though no one’s hands
were touching him, Hinagiku was controlling him. Rin expanded his mental self, trying to break the man’s
hold. He’d never lost a fight before,
and this one was too important not to win.
He tried to teleport away from Hinagiku. Somehow the Sarjalian’s grip prevented that.
“Put him down, you bastard!” Rin didn’t have to look to recognize Daisuke. Another gunshot cracked the air.
Rin crashed to the ground. Hinagiku stood over him, a psychic shield protecting him from
Daisuke’s shots. The man’s red hair
flared around him, his eyes narrowed to pinpoints as he glared at the young
captain. Rin suddenly understood. As long as Daisuke continued to shoot,
Hinagiku couldn’t attack.
“Shoot again!” he yelled, pulling himself up and out of
the way. A wave of dizziness swept over
him as he stood. This would have to end
quickly. He was losing too much
blood. He hoped Daisuke’s gun had a lot
of ammunition. Daisuke squeezed off two
more shots, both of which fell uselessly to the floor at Hinagiku’s feet, but
the older boy seemed to understand. As
long as his friend could distract the Sarches, Rin could help Alice.
But before Rin could reach the struggling women, another
form burst past him with a yell. Sakura
barreled into Alice, knocking her aside long enough to smack the gun from
Nadeshiko’s grip. The girl gripped a
broom in her hands, clumsily wielding it like a martial arts staff. Issei was quick on her heels, scooping up
the pistol and aiming it at Nadeshiko while Sakura hurried to check on Alice. Issei’s hands shook, but his eyes were cold
and determined. He talked to his old
friend in a low voice.
Alice was okay.
Rin trusted Issei and Sakura to make sure no harm would come to her.
Daisuke shot off his last round. The pistol clicked uselessly as he desperately pulled the trigger
for more. He looked at Rin,
panicked. Hinagiku took advantage of
the opening. He roared with fury,
throwing a blast of white energy at the defenseless teenager--in another
moment, Daisuke fell uselessly against the wall, unconscious, his nose
bleeding.
Rin felt Shion’s rage brimming over. With the force of a professional pitcher, he
flung small balls of his own power at Hinagiku, pounding him with a storm of
blue fire. The Sarches blocked a few,
but most of them hit their marks, tearing and burning his skin. Rin gritted his teeth--his left arm was
getting weak and useless.
Hinagiku closed his eyes, breathing deeply and suddenly
still. Rin paused, taken aback, then
suddenly realized his mistake. Before
he could brace for the return blast, Hinagiku’s eyes popped open, blazing with
gold light as he summoned a huge golden fireball.
Rin stumbled back, falling against the wall. He couldn’t die now. For the first time since Mokuren died, Shion
wanted to live. Rin could feel the
man’s consciousness rising in his body, and for the first time in over a year,
he yielded to it. Shion howled,
lighting the smoke-filled room with a fiery blue shield. Hinagiku’s chi blast sizzled and crackled
against the shield. Rin felt the world
spinning out of control and he fought the darkness that threatened to blank out
his mind. He thought of Alice. Shion thought of Mokuren. They hung on. The shield flickered and held until Hinagiku’s energy blast
dissipated altogether.
But Rin felt Hinagiku’s strength just below the surface of
this attack--there was no way he’d survive.
Suddenly, the Sarjalian’s body crashed against a cart of
flowers. Potshards and severed plants
showered to the floor around him, coating his white tunic with a fine black
dust.
Rin twisted his head, relieved to see Jinpachi’s cocky
grin. “Thought you might need some back
up,” the teenager said, smirking.
Rin smiled weakly.
“Th-Thanks.” He took a moment to
tear the sleeve from his shirt, using his teeth to wrap it as a makeshift
tourniquet around his throbbing upper arm.
He was grateful for Daisuke’s relationship with Ayame--he would need a
doctor if they got through this alive.
Together, they faced Hinagiku. Jinpachi didn’t have the power to make chi blasts, but his force
could hold Hinagiku still or send him flying--whichever was required. With his help, Rin pummeled. He watched as his energy burned the alien’s hair,
tore his skin and clothes. He tried to
break Hinagiku’s bones, but the Sarches could still block, still protect
himself against Rin’s attacks.
Rin almost didn’t notice when the alien changed his
strategy. He almost didn’t see the way
Hinagiku’s eyes flicked away from his to look at Jinpachi. “Ogura!” he yelled, but it was already too
late. The boy’s body lifted like a
doll’s, and Rin saw his friend’s eyes widen in panic before the Sarches
mentally threw him to the ground.
He didn’t move.
“Jinpachi! Gyokuran, get
up!” Issei and Sakura were screaming.
Rin realized he was alone. He was scratched and burned.
His left arm was completely useless and his legs felt like rubber. Rin fought against the dizziness that
threatened to consume him. For the
first time, he considered what it might mean to lose. He thought of Haruhiko and his still, pale face, of Jinpachi and
Daisuke, both unconscious and possibly dead.
Issei, Sakura, and Alice were okay, but they were weak in a fight. He shuddered to think of what Hinagiku would
do to them--to Alice--if Rin couldn’t beat him.
“You can’t win this, brat,” the Sarjalian taunted,
flinging his hair out of his eyes and walking toward Rin.
Rin stood his ground.
He’d beaten Haru and Mikuro together.
He’d driven Tamura’s kid into an almost catatonic panic. He’d survived alone for nine years. He could do this.
A sudden blinding pain stabbed him from inside his own
mind. Rin grabbed his head,
screaming. From far away, he heard
Hinagiku laughing. “Stupid kid,” the
Sarches commented dryly, “don’t go up against a Sarjalian without knowing what
he can do to you.” Rin tried to block
out the pain, but everything he tried made it worse. It was as if every blood vessel in his brain were about to
explode--a million aneurysms at once.
He couldn’t even think; he heard the squealing sound of an animal dying,
but he couldn’t tell it came from him.
“NO! STOP!” A sobbing voice came behind the pain. She begged.
She screamed.
Alice.
Suddenly a flash of light burned so bright that Rin could
see it behind his clenched eyelids. The
voice changed to a keening song--high and painful. Then it was over.
Hinagiku’s hold lifted from his mind.
Rin had a moment of painless relief before everything
slipped away.
*****
Mikuro had been ignoring the sounds of battle from the
observation room. He told himself that
he didn’t care what happened to any of them--as long as Haru was okay and able
to go home with him, that was all he had time to worry about. He sat with his back against the door to the
infirmary, his legs stretched on the cold, hard tile.
It’d been hours and he ached all over. He was scared. Logically, he knew that if Ayame had trouble, if something
unexpected happened during Haru’s operation, she’d come out and say so. No news is good news, as his brother always
said. But Hokuto never had to sit
outside while the life of someone he loved swung in the balance.
Someone he loved.
It had been a long, long time since he’d been able to think in those
terms. He was almost too afraid to
think it now--if Haruhiko died, what would it matter how he felt about
him? Mikuro’s whole body shook.
The noises of the fight intensified. Mikuro thought he could hear Shusuran
screaming. She was a good kid; his body
tensed, wanting to go to her, but his mind prevailed, stubborn. Kasama Haruhiko was his only priority. Some kind of blast shook the walls, making
the lights blink out for an instant.
From inside the room, he heard Ayame curse.
Mikuro was on his feet, peering through the window. He watched Ayame frantically flip switches,
evidently turning on everything that shut down in the power surge. He pounded on the glass. “Let me help!”
She shook her head, her eyes sharp above the surgical
mask.
Damn. Mikuro
turned away, sighing. It was crazy, the
way he trusted that woman enough to obey her.
This powerlessness was killing him.
A high-pitched scream yanked his attention away from the
young doctor and the operation she was performing. Mokuren.
Before he realized his reaction, Mikuro was running down
the long corridor. It was one thing to
let the others blow themselves to pieces, but he liked Sakaguchi Alice. She was strong and loyal and really cared
about what happened to Haru. That alone
earned his devotion.
Just before he reached the observation room, a blinding
flash of white light burst through the doors.
Mikuro ducked, closing his eyes and shielding his face with his
arms. For a moment he thought he heard
a voice, a powerful voice singing in a language he didn’t know, but then it
stopped, and the corridor was quiet.
Mikuro tentatively looked around. The doors to the garden room were broken,
and papery rubble drifted from the ceiling like a dusting of snow. He stood slowly and picked his way into the
room, afraid of what he’d find.
The first thing he noticed was the body. The broken form of what was once Hinagiku
lay impaled on some sort of stake. His
eyes were wide and shocked--Mikuro had to look away as his stomach lurched in
horrified reaction.
A whimper in the opposite corner pulled his attention from
the gory scene. The boy, Enju, lay
sprawled across Shusuran and Nadeshiko--it was clear he’d thrown himself over
them to protect them from the blast.
The back of his shirt was torn open and soaked in blood. The women were starting to shift beneath
him, Shusuran crying softly and wrapping her arms gingerly around the boy’s
shoulders. He lifted his head and gave
her a weak smile.
Gyokuran and Hiiragi were struggling to their feet--the
first with an obviously broken arm and the captain sporting a nasty slash
across his forehead. They leaned on
each other, flinching and staggering, but tenaciously alive.
But Mokuren?
Mikuro scanned the room again, searching for the girl he’d come to
rescue. At first he saw nothing but
plants and burnt rubble, but a soft sound made him look closer. She was lying, almost prone, beneath the
sheltering arms of a large fern. At
first he thought she was crying, but as he hurried closer, he made out her frantic
whisper.
“Please be alive.
Please be alive. Dear God,
please let him live.”
Mikuro pulled her up by the shoulder, anxiously checking
her for wounds. She looked almost
completely unscathed. The boy she’d
been sheltering with her body, however, hadn’t fared so well.
He wasn’t moving, not even to breathe, and his face had taken
on a strange paleness that belied any hope of life. His whole body was scratched and torn; a horrifying wound on his
shoulder had leaked more blood than Mikuro thought could be in a kid that size.
“He’s okay!”
Mokuren cried desperately. “Once
he wakes up, he’ll be fine!” Her voice
was weak and her body shook with tremors.
Mikuro gently moved her aside.
He leaned over Shion’s narrow chest, listening for a
heartbeat even as his fingers searched for a pulse. He couldn’t hear anything.
He opened the boy’s mouth, automatically checking for blockage before
beginning CPR. Shion’s lips were
cool--almost cold beneath his. Mokuren
started to cry as Mikuro pushed the young boy’s chest. The kid was so small, not at all the
formidable enemy he had faced the year before.
“It’s not working,” Enju’s voice was cracked and full of
pain. “Try something else!”
Mikuro didn’t stop his rhythmic pressure. There wasn’t anything else to try.
Enju wasn’t satisfied.
The boy leaned close over Mikuro’s shoulder. Mikuro could feel the dampness of his breath and tears. “Damn it,” Enju cried helplessly. “Try some other way!”
“There is no other way.”
Mikuro thought it was the captain’s quiet answer. He was barely listening, concentrating every
nerve on the still child on the floor.
For Mokuren, he had to do this.
He had to make this work.
“What about electricity?”
Shusuran chimed in behind Enju, her voice unnaturally high. “We don’t have paddles, but Jinpachi
could--”
“I’d kill him!
I--I don’t have that kind of control.”
But Mikuro did. He
didn’t know if it would work, but it was clear that CPR was getting
nowhere. He swung his arms out,
motioning for everyone to move back.
Everyone did except Mokuren, and he could hardly force the sobbing girl
to move. He closed his eyes,
nervous. He’d never used his gift this
way. He’d never focused such a small
bit at such a tiny target as this boy’s heart.
He pulled the electricity from his mind, from his own
heart, from the blood flowing through his veins. He felt it, hot and blue, coursing through his arms to his
fingers. Mikuro tore open Rin’s shirt,
pressing his hands flat over the boy’s chest.
He tightened his control until his head felt like it would burst--there
was no way he’d let himself fry this kid’s organs while trying to save him.
He squeezed his eyes closed and let go.
The kid jerked beneath his hands--at first with the force
of the electricity and then in a spastic coughing fit. Shion gasped, his eyes fluttering open for a
split second as he sucked in a deep breath of air.
“Rin! Oh Rin,
thank God!” Mokuren crumpled to the
ground, covering her face with her hands.
The boy’s breathing continued--raspy and weak but
steady. Mikuro let out a sigh that
sounded a lot like a sob.
“I’ll tell Ayame and get a bed set up!” Hiiragi was out the door before anyone else
could react.
Mikuro stood up on shaky legs and scooped Shion up in his
arms. He was uneasy about his success,
not sure if he’d done the right thing--maybe the kid would’ve been better off
if he’d kept trying the CPR. Broken
ribs could be fixed--overdoses of electricity to the heart were trickier.
Ayame would know what to do.