“The packing is going slowly, husband. I hope we shall be finished in time,” she said, wondering if his concern was about that. “When do we leave for Misery?”

“I return to the regiment tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! Then we had best get fin . . .” Tomiko stopped in mid-sentence when she realized what he had said. “You? If it is just you, why have you had me packing my things and those of the children?”

“Because you are leaving An Ting.”

Tomiko glanced at Marisha. Not a word passed between them, but Marisha understood the wordless request. She excused herself to check on Tomoe's progress. With Dandridge gone, Tomiko gave Minobu a stern look. “You have an explanation, husband?”

“Only I am going to Misery. It is no world for women and children.” He stilled her objections by putting a finger to her lips. “I understand your devotion, wife. But I will hear no protests. You are going to Awano with the children.”

“Awano.” Tomiko turned her back to him and hung her head forlornly. “There is more to this than the living conditions on Misery.”

“No, it is only that.”

When Minobu reached out to take her shoulders in his hands, she shrugged clear of his embrace. She had heard the lie in his voice. He lowered his hands and stared helplessly out the open panel at the archery range. At the far end of the range, he saw the servant who had passed him in the corridor disappear into the shadows of the tower. Minobu wished he could disappear as easily.

Tomiko turned toward her husband and reached up to touch his face, fingers carefully avoiding the pale scars of the reconstructive surgery. The faint pressure of her touch turned his face to hers.

“Can you look at me and say that it is only the conditions on Misery?”

Minobu's eyes searched hers. He saw that he could not tell her all that he feared. She had her own fears. Lost in his concerns, he did not speak, and his silence gave her the answer she was expecting.

“You have put me aside. That is why I have seen so little of you.”

“That is not so,” he said, wiping away the tear that wet her cheek.

“Do not do this, husband. I have changed. Truly, I have. I can accept it now,” she said, touching his artificial arm. There was need in her voice. It warred with the revulsion that she still tried to hide.

“We can return to what we had,” she added in a tiny voice.

“You have indeed changed. Now you no longer understand me. I wish no gulf between us, Miko-chan,but you cannot come to Misery.”

“Then, at least, let me be with you now,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around him.

He returned the embrace with his natural arm, then, carefully, with the artificial one. She did not flinch. Instead, she held him closer with a fierceness she had never shown before. They kissed, each responding to the other's desire. Their passion led them to the futon,with their clothes scattered behind them.

As they lay quietly after their lovemaking, Minobu felt the return of the day's nagging tension. It was a siren call, a message that he could neither understand nor ignore. It prodded him to action, but did not tell him what that action should be or what should be its target. He only knew he could not remain still.

Tomiko dozed against his right side, the replacement parts of his ravaged left side away from her touch. He was reluctant to disturb her, but he must rise. As gently as he could, he slipped his arm from beneath her head. Half-asleep, the motion barely disturbed her. When she rolled over, he was free to stand up and began to pull on his kimono. Just as he was reaching for his sash, Minobu caught his wife watching him with eyes wide and full of worry. “What is the matter, husband?”

He wrapped the sash around his waist. “Something is wrong,” he said. “With me?”

Minobu shook his head. “Never. I do not know what it is, but it is not a problem between us. That, at least, is at rest.”

“Then you should rest. Come back under the covers,” she said, holding out her arms. The gentle light that came through the shojipanels made her flesh shine with an alabaster radiance.

Minobu was tempted. Very strongly tempted. “I think I would find little rest under those covers.”

Her smile confirmed his suspicions.

“No, Miko-chan,I cannot. Much as I wish to, I cannot.” It was the truth. His unease had grown and began to pull strongly at him. He could not lose himself in her arms now.

“Shigata go nai.Do what you must. I will understand.”

“I know.”

Minobu moved toward the veranda. He walked as though on another plane, Tomiko forgotten behind him. Whatever disturbed him was not in this house. With the cool breeze blowing through his light kimono, the feeling intensified. Yes, the source was somewhere out here.

The unease crystallized into a clear warning of danger, a sensation Minobu had never experienced before except on the battlefield. His head jerked up, eyes settling on the corner tower. There, crouched on the balcony of the third level, was a figure. The shadowy shape was manipulating a long object that glinted coldly in the afternoon light. A rifle.

Trusting his ki,Minobu acted.

A shrug and a twist of his torso freed the left side of his body from the confines of the garment. Dark skin and darker plastic drank the late afternoon sunlight. Minobu threw open the cabinet that held his archery equipment and snatched a bow. Muscles bunched and coiled as he bent it and slipped the string into place. Arrow in hand, he turned to face the tower once more.

The figure was leaning against the railing, the rifleman steadying his weapon on the rail as he sighted at some target in the city. Minobu's sense of danger peaked.

He fitted the arrow to the string and rested the shaft against the plastic of his artificial hand. In a smooth, continuous motion, he raised the bow above his head, lowered in the draw, and loosed. The arrow sped true, striking the target just as the other man squeezed off his shot.

The weapon twinkled in the light as it fell from the tower.

The dark figure crumpled.

It was too late.

38

Central Square, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

2 January 3028

 

Akuma's staff car had slowed progressively as it moved through the city of Cerant. At the edge of the central square, the driver brought the vehicle to a halt. For the moment, its bulk, even reinforced by the Draconis Combine ensigns flying from its fenders, could gain it no headway. The square and the streets leading to it were choked with people. Angry people.

“It seems you have a reception committee, Colonel Wolf,” Akuma commented, indicating the crush of bodies beyond the one-way windows of the vehicle. Wolf and Blake watched the throng but said nothing. Quinn seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

Wolf glanced through the back window to be sure that the second car was still behind them. It had stopped with its bumper nearly touching Akuma's car.

“Checking to see if your hotheads are about to get into trouble, Colonel?”

“Just making sure your driver didn't take a wrong turn.”

“Hardly necessary,” Akuma harrumphed. “Driver, take the car as close as you can to the Dragoon headquarters. We don't want to make our passengers walk too far.”

The car crept forward. Progress was slow, but relatively steady. Even the most vociferous and obstinate members of the crowd eventually gave way when it became clear that the vehicle was going to proceed whether they moved or not.

The mob's attention was directed toward the administrative HQ, where a cordon of Dragoon soldiers stood at the base of the steps. They wore combat armor and full helmets, their faces invisible behind the visors. Each trooper held a Ceres Arms M-22 Crowdbuster, a formidable stun rifle. The weapon's bulky appearance made it intimidating, and it was well-balanced for use as a bludgeon.