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A fall was always faster than a climb. And we were moving faster. The walls of the lift shuddered. The small lights that ringed its ceiling flickered wildly. Neither Emon nor Nozomi spoke, only a high-pitched whistle accompanied our plummet back to the warship's drab, grey-walled dungeon. The stone in my stomach was in my throat by the time the elevator thudded to a stop.
Kei, back against the wall, glared up from his pallet when the door hissed open, but concern quickly supplanted anger when he saw my bound hands. He struggled to his feet and pressed himself against the front of his cell, mouthing questions I didn't have to hear to understand and didn't feel like answering. Still bitter with the taste of Juno's betrayal, my tongue felt like a slab. Why speak when words turned to poison in my mouth?
Head low, I averted my gaze, part of me regretting my outburst, the horrible way in which I'd told Juno about Satoshi; while another, a greater part of me, still railed against the prospect of spending an indefinite amount of observation time in one of the adjacent cells.
Time. Of all things that would allay her suspicions, why did it have to be the one commodity that was already in too short a supply?
Nozomi, a woman about my age and height with a face as round as a spring moon, tugged at my sleeve. "Let's go, Renata. This way."
When she started towards the brig, Emon pulled me back. Fabric crackled as their tug-of-war tore my anorak shoulders at the seams. "No, wait," he said gruffly.
She turned to regard him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "But Emon, our orders were to lock her up."
"Instructions," he corrected. "That's all they were and I heard nothing in them about a lock-up. 'Do what you want,' those were Juno's instructions."
Nozomi stiffened. "You know perfectly well what she meant."
"Maybe you're a mind reader but I'm not. One minute we're rescuing her future sister-in-law, then treating her like a prisoner the next. Don't you think that's strange?"
"I'm sure Juno has her reasons," she sniffed.
"That's a coward's answer," Emon snorted. "Blind obedience is why fools now live in the inverted glass bowls." Turning to me, he asked, "What happened up there?"
I told them everything I knew about the implants, leaving out the part about the swollen lump on the back of my neck, since transparency had gotten me into this mess in the first place. Then, I told them what Mazawa had done to Hiro. Hiro, who was still wandering alone somewhere out there in the darkness, his unnatural hunger growing at the pace of his infection. "I don't think Juno meant to do it out of spite. She's overreacting because she's afraid."
A look passed between them. Neither said anything for a moment, but then, Nozomi spoke, "I heard you say something about five days. What happens in five days?"
"That's all the time I have left before Mazawa detonates my implant. Mine, and possibly Kei's"—I waved at the holding cell—"since Mazawa sent him to make sure I did exactly as I was told."
"What does he want you to do?"
I didn't want to discuss the mission with them. That was a conversation for Tetsuo—one, for which I had plenty of questions, if I ever got to see him.
"Never mind that." Emon regarded Kei narrowly. "Do you trust him?"
The answer came without thought, without pause, and without any internal debate, rocketing up from that knot in the middle of my intestines, "No."
"That's all I needed to hear." Emon's hand disappeared beneath his poncho and returned holding a jackknife. I felt a sharp tug behind me, then the zip-cord fell away.
Nozomi retreated, shaking her head. "You can't release her! What if she has nokuru, like Juno said?"
"Juno said, Juno said," he mimicked. "Are you a Shinu or a parrot?" Large hands clapped my shoulders and roughly turned me to face Nozomi. "Look at her, she's no more a Kufugaki than you are! And, just in case you've forgotten, Tetsuo is still the one in charge around here. Tetsuo—not Juno!"
She tilted her chin at him. "It's her ship!"
"Think she'll keep her new toy, once Tetsuo gets wind of what she planned to do to the sister of one of his most beloved friends?" He snorted. "Don't think he'll go any easier on you, either. You'll be grounded faster than you can say wings down."
I noticed that Kei, kneeling with one ear pressed against the feeder tray of his cell door, was trying to listen in on our conversation.
"Aren't you even the slightest bit afraid, Emon?"
He squeezed my shoulder. "Of Juno? She's all worked up because she's pregnant. At her age, no one expected that happening, least of all her. Now, you don't have to agree with me, Nozomi; you don't even have to come with us, but I'd appreciate your giving us a head start."
"But what will I say when..." Nozomi trailed off, casting nervous glances from Emon to me, then back to Emon again.
"Tell her the truth: I took this one to Tetsuo, but wanted you to stay behind to interrogate the soldier. Looks like he's trying to get an earful, by the way. Good luck with that, buddy!" He waved to Kei and laughed when he stood up and gave the glass an indignant kick.
I signaled for him to stop, making slashes across my throat with one finger. Lips pursed, eyes dark slits, he gave the blood-smeared door a final kick before returning to his pallet. If sulking had a color, his would've been a block of obsidian.
As Nozomi cast an unsure look in his direction, Emon said, "You can talk to him through the feeder apparatus. When it slides out, you'll be able to hear whatever he has to say. Even if he tries any funny business, a hand, maybe part of a forearm's the most he'd be able to get through the—"
"I don't need your help!" Nozomi shot back. Turning away, grumbling beneath her breath, she trudged into the cell block.
Instead of retracing our steps through the cargo maze, Emon led me into one of the launch bays. Pungent odors—organic lubricant, coolant and fuel—stung my nose as I entered and seemed to only intensify, as our progression led us deeper into the shadowy bay. Overhead, the coppery underwings and bellies of docked fighter pods silently swayed in their delicate berths. I glanced at them, wondering how many had been stolen from the holodome corpsmen or commandeered from unsuspecting technicians and mechanics.
At the end of the corridor, an iris portal—a door made of slim metal leaves, arranged at angles to open and close in a circular aperture—filled the entire wall. A small hoverboard, built to accommodate only two passengers, whose steering mechanism looked as if it had been stolen from a TerraCycle, waited on the ground near the portal's touch control panel.
Emon shrugged on his poncho hood, bid me to do the same, and after activating the launch aperture, took the helm—or in this case, handlebars—of the hoverboard. I clambered on behind him but not without noticing that the device's safety belts had been stripped away.
The hoverboard rose with a soft purr with Emon guiding it into position while we waited for the iris panels to open.
I didn't have to ask why we were flying to Tetsuo's location. When not sailing the skies over Japan, the Shinu preferred to live in fuyu-kyu, free-floating living spaces that were elliptical or dodecahedral in form. Equipped with a masking capability similar to those used on the larger ships, each fuyu-kyu could individually drift at will and without detection. This more than anything else was responsible for the expression, 'Wherever you are, you're never far from a Shinu's shadow.'
It was also the biggest reason the holodome-based militia hated the nomadic sky clan so much. Because they were so mobile, the Shinu could cover hundreds of miles in less than a day, dispersing valuable information while conducting their business. Information the Doctors didn't want lowly outsiders to have.
Unlike the other, more earthbound clans—small, tightly-knit groups bound by blood, necessity, or the limits of geography—the Shinu, who were always recruiting new members, could count defectors from Korea and Russia, deserters from a number of armies, and, thanks to Mazawa, a steadily growing number of Shokohin among their numbers. Smugglers, hackers, thieves, the dispossessed or disenfranchised: anyone with a ship, anyone who wanted to live life on their own terms, and wasn't afraid to fight for it was welcomed into the Shinu fold.
Metal groaned and squealed as the circle at the center of the aperture slowly widened, revealing a curtain of rain that sparkled like a thousand tiny jewels as it cascaded through the exterior lights. Beyond it, however, I could see nothing but blackness.
"Hold tight," Emon said.
The hoverboard lurched forward. Without safety straps of any kind, the only choice I had was to fling my arms around his midsection, if I didn't want to be flung off the back. Laughing at my reaction to our stuttering start, Emon twisted the accelerator on the handle grip.
We zoomed through the portal into an eerie world where huge forms rustled and creaked against a deeper blackness. Leaves sluiced against the hoverboard's undercarriage and branches snatched at our hair and clothes. Like a pair of bats, we swerved around limbs and swooped over wind-tossed treetops that swayed like the waves of a dark sea. A canopy impenetrable in its density. Rain pattered against my anorak, the wind hissed in my ears and all around me, leaves rustled, whispering secrets, warnings.
With hands that ached from the cold, I pressed closer to Emon and squeezed my thighs tighter around the narrow, saddle-like seat. "Where are we?"
"Near Saiko," he shot back.
Up ahead, light flared as it glanced off an elliptical, metallic shape nestled among the treetops like an enormous egg. A curved wooden platform floated nearby.
Emon slowed the hoverboard. As he leaned it into a wide turn, preparing to land, another light bobbed in the blackness.
I tugged at his sleeve. "Watch your back! We've got company."
A blazing orb ripped through the air. Ricocheting off the fuyu-kyu's shatterproof window, it went wild, barely missing the hoverboard before it sizzled off through the trees. Others followed, whistling over our heads before they slammed into the platform, sending up showers of sparks and charred splinters.
"Always knew she was crazy. Shit!" Emon struggled for control, our hoverboard juddering to a near-standstill as another swooped dangerously across our path. Another flash erupted as Juno and Nozomi passed. Our headlamp exploded, spraying him with glass shards.
Clutching his bleeding face, Emon slumped sideways. Stretching forward with all my might, I grabbed one of the handle grips from behind, causing the hoverboard to veer so sharply, it slammed into the one driven by our assailants as they rallied for another volley.
Juno, face twisted in a mask of shock and rage, clung to the steering bars. Her shooter wasn't as tenacious or lucky, however. Arms flailing, MBLs flying from her hands, Nozomi fell screaming into the night.
Inching ahead, I urged Emon forward until both of the board's controls were in my hands. Unarmed, Juno swooped down and away.
As she maneuvered into position, a fighter pod unmasked between us, blinding her with its searchlights.