A ship is safe in harbor-- but that's not what ships are for.
- John A. Shedd
Chapter 1 – Harbour
January 11, 3051
Elusian City
Kalifax continent, Nirasaki
Al Na'ir Prefecture, Draconis Combine
Rain thrummed on the windows of a large building overlooking a bustling city. Buildings, some influenced by the japanese ancestry of House Kurita, stood solemnly in the storm. The town's citizens, not minding the rain, went about their daily business, unhastened by the downpour.
Teak and glass were washed alike as sunlight, peeking through clouds, glinted off the wet steel structures. Inside the skyscraper, Ethan could see the smudged cityscape of Elusian and watched its people go on with their daily lives. Behind him, a holoprojector softly hummed, repeating the final moments of the annual Hiyake solar yacht race which Ethan, as the eldest noble of the planet was forced to preside over. He still wore the ceremonial robes uncomfortably, wondering if the stench of all the visiting nobles would be washed away by the rain.
A serene voice creaked out behind Ethan. "You didn't come here to enjoy the view, nephew, so let me hear it already so that I may say no."
It didn't come out as a question. "He's dead." Ethan had already known the answer, and kept staring at the window pane, hearing as much as seeing.
The old man sighed and moved closer to the younger man as he placed his right hand on his shoulder. He stared sideways at the Ethan's oddly coloured blue-green eyes, the Morimoto eyes, the very same eyes the old man had, as it watched every raindrop splatter on the transparent steel pane. "I will miss him."
The words were not unexpected, but Ethan shivered nonetheless. He nodded once, more of a small bow and looked at a mirror reflection of what could be. "Then this planet is yours, uncle." Ethan whispered, "Treat it better than my father had."
"But you are—"
"—not an adminstrator." Ethan finished.
Takeshi Morimoto nodded and watched his nephew walk away, fidgeting in his silken robes. No tears were on his face as Ethan walked purposefully, and politely, forward but the rain streaking on the windows of his office traced all the teardrops he needed. It was not of sadness. But joy.
He waited until the doors shut behind his nephew and for the light above the doorway to turn green; Nirasaki produced many electronics, not the least of which were highly advanced security and privacy systems. Takeshi let a smile on his face as he sat down in his large leather chair and flicked on his vidphone to a caller already on the line.
"Oyabun, I have some delightful news…"
For a moment, Takeshi believed that the man staring back at him was the oyabun of the largest yakuza faction on the planet. It took mere seconds for him to realize the shape of the man's face was unfathomably wrong and it took less than that to recognize the synthesized facial expressions and voice.
A simulation?…
It was all the time that was needed to keep Takeshi's eyes away from his office's wide windows, not that he would have seen it coming through the thickening rain. The rocket had a very truncated flare, barely visible to even most military grade sensors, let alone the human eye. It was the assassin's weapon of choice against heavily shielded targets, and the office of the Blue Heron's CEO certainly counted as one.
The explosion sent burnt glass hurtling outwards into the streets below as thick plumes of smoke fed the cloudy sky. The building would not crumble, but it was decapitated. Its fires were quickly quenched by the renewed downpour of rain.
On the ground, Ethan walked away from the Blue Heron Kalifax plaza and into his waiting hovercar. Carrying no umbrella, he let his face be streaked with hard rain and soft tears.
***
January 16, 3051
Morimoto Palace
Kalifax continent, Nirasaki
Al Na'ir Prefecture, Draconis Combine
The holovision hummed silently as it cycled through all the news channels. Ethan couldn't find a single one not still talking about his uncle's death. Ten years ago, Ethan mused, it would've been explained away as a gas leak or a lightning strike and the people would've believed it, in public that is. Now, the liberized media was beside itself in ecstasy at finally having the chance to dish all the Kuritan dirt it could find.
Politely of course. That annoyed Ethan to no end. A Davion or Marik political show was always hot, always entertaining; tempers raged, fists smashed and voices never below a shout. Though Kuritan political shows were springing up left and right not a single one had a guest willing to raise his voice above that of a conversational level. Rivals and even complete enemies would smile and sit side by side as they explained their viewpoint once again in as polite as possible way they can.
Angered suddenly, Ethan hurled the remote through the holographic projection of a political analyst's head from Altair and cringed as he heard the inevitable crack of the remote control echoed in his small corner of the palace. I'm making some progress at least, Ethan noted with a grin. Fourth remote control in as many days and at least now the holovision interprets it as an 'Off' command.
Sighing to himself, Ethan slumped back into the couch and opened a familiar looking box. Inside revealed another remote control, a Lotus RC model 223, already attuned to his HV, and nonchalantly threw the box aside. It landed in a pile of three other boxes forming a small heap.
A few moments later, it was a pile of five boxes.
Savouring his sixth HV remote control, not that he couldn't buy any more - he just didn't want to leave his home to do so, Ethan flicked through the news channels again, this time in a slower pace. Not a single one even tried to tie him to the assassination. Is that why I'm watching these idiots? Because I want them to suspect me? Ethan lowered his head. Because I should be locked away or executed? Because I ordered it. He repeated that to himself. I ordered it.
I did it.
Ethan blinked.
"I did it." The room was silent now, the HV muted. "I did it. I killed my uncle." His voice sounded hollow, uncaring. He poured more emotion into his confession. "I did it!" Somehow, the satisfied tinge in his voice felt wrong. I don't know why I should feel anything for that traitor… No remorse, he deserves none. Finally, Ethan came to an understanding between his warring thoughts.
"He deserved it. I killed him. I loved him." Ethan admitted slowly, "He was more of a father to me…", and he paused, glancing at a sheet of paper crumpled on the floor, "But he needed to be killed." The justification sounded hollow again, in his ears and in his mind.
But it had to do for now.
It was day again when Ethan roused himself from the couch. The night had been spent on the vidphone, speaking with his acquaintances, his trustworthy ones. Ethan didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered it was after the palace's major domo delivered a handwritten note personally to him. Servants had come in the night to clean the mess he had made, like always, despite his orders and protestations. It took a few minutes for him to stand and steady himself, sake was heavy on his breath.
Bending over to pick up the discarded note, Ethan read it again. It began, 'With our sincerest apologies, the Sun Zhang Academy has revoked your enrollment Morimoto-san. Ethan kept reading, wondering at how hateful the writer of the letter must have been to write a letter so bluntly. You have been credited for the completion of your second year at the top of your class, Ethan sniggered, however circumstances have forced the faculty to re-evaluate your place amongst this establishment. Your belongings will be sent to your place of residence.'
Without active though, Ethan shredded the letter piece by piece, savouring each tear. Not even an offer for a letter of recommendation if I want to transfer to another school… Even washouts get that small courtesy. "'I know when I'm not wanted.'" Ethan smiled, as he finished the phrase in his head, 'And I know when I'm needed.'
Ethan opened the door of his small sanctuary and walked into a small indoor garden. A younger man was going through motions with his sword, and Ethan usually paid him little heed. But today was a new day, after all, and another letter, this time folded properly weighed heavily in his pocket. His brother sensed his approach and dutifully stopped practicing and lowered his head. Ethan was sure it wasn't deferrential.
Soberly. "Jin… Junjin. Brother, I have news." That got the younger man's attention. It had been a long time since he called his younger brother anyhing but 'Jin'. Ethan was always wary of his too eager little brother, even as children. It wasn't the naked calculations in his eyes, or the abrasive way he handled himself or his sword. It was… something. Instinct, some may call it.
But Ethan never let that show, and he wasn't about to now. He handed the carefully worded letter and let his youngest sibling read it. "Our eldest brother Kiyoshi was tasked to lead a counter attack made up of elements from shattered Pesht units." Ethan paused, weighing the eyes of his brother. Already he could see the machinations, the formation of gloats that would be repeated ad naseum to everyone within earshot, the potential gain of prestige and honour.
"He failed."
Like a spoiled child denied his wish, Junjin flared and almost lunged at Ethan until he saw the utter remorse in Ethan's face. Mistaking the look for their eldest, gentle brother, Junjin backed down apologetically. They both knew what failure still meant to most of the DCMS officers.
"We have lost so much, Ethan… " Junjin started, and corrected himself, "… so many people. It's just us now, isn't it? You, Nara, and me." Ethan looked away from his brother, drowning out his words and failing. It wasn't the grief of loss that strangled him, it was the loss of this man. Even when he tried to be compassionate, Junjin came off as still calculating. Still cold.
"It's my fault." Ethan cursed the sake for his lapse in control, blaming it instead of his conscience. "No—not Kiyoshi's…" Ethan sighed deeply and inhaled the calmness of the garden.Wheeling around, what Ethan saw sickened him. Maybe it was the sake, maybe it was the clarity the garden imparted. Or maybe it was insanity, but Ethan could almost picture his little brother saying 'One down, two to go' with the expression he saw on Junjin's face. "It's my fault that you're you. Not mother's, certainly not father's or Kuyoshi's. I raised you, and I've been an arrogant bully to you, lording myself over you because you weren't as quick with your hands."
Ethan waved away Jin's response. "I'm not done. Our… father realized that you were the smartest amongst us. I was jealous of that," Ethan added quickly, "when I was younger. But I've pitied you ever since." He let that sink in. "You've turned into a weasel, Junjin. A calculating little Steiner bitch." That insult would have provoked a fight with any other samurai in the Combine. The odds be damned, insults like that needed to be answered, especially one so easily given.
Junjin did nothing, even armed with a fine blade, he did nothing but stood there and took it.
The now-eldest brother shook his head, "You have the wrong kind of courage, brother. You make shadowed moves into the Blue Heron and Steel Wind Communes using our wealth and pay off or threaten authorities to come at your aid as the Communes scream for your blood. You pick fights with Unproductives, eta!, and you kill them for your wrongs. Brother, you are lost to us."
Anger swelled within Junjin. No, not anger. Desperation. "Is that the great Ethan's proclamation then? The great Morimoto who scored higher than even our grandfather and was accepted into the Sun Zhang at an early age and kicked out even earlier?" Ethan showed no reaction to that bit of news that was supposed to be private. "The great brother who disowned his own sister for getting pregnant by a member of the yakuza? The great warrior of the Nirasaki Militia that put down a riot just last year while he was on his summer vacation? A riot that the great citizen incited himself?"
Junjin spat. "'Brother'? You have the gall to call me 'brother'? You, who tortured me for years! Years, Ethan! Your namecalling, your constant humiliations, your never ending critiques at every thing that I do. Oh yes, Ethan, I know! It's only because I do it the wrong way! I have the wrong skills, the—the wrong courage!" Jin gripped his katana with a tight fist.
Ethan nudged him further by glancing at the grip and giving a slight disapproving shake of the head; enough that Jin could see it. "You've never been anything but an ungrateful and selfish bastard! Who was it that kept this planet from falling under those scheming Communes' rule? Who kept it under our family's direct control? Certainly not the avid whore-chaser, the bastard-maker from what the tabloids say of you."
"You looked at me once as a child and decided I wasn't good enough to be your brother, didn't you Ethan? That I didn't measure up to your idea of a brother?" Junjin's sword was quivering. "That I wasn't good enough to be a Morimoto?!"
With a smile, "You still aren't, Junjin." Ethan turned away and retreated back into his sanctuary, slamming the door at a charging Junjin with his sword upraised. I'm sorry, brother. I can't do anything else for you other than this…I hope you're as wise as you think you are. Ethan ignored the indignant fists slamming at the reinforced door. This planet has eaten our family whole. It took generations, but it has, and the eldest gets to stand the last stand and fight the last fight.
The thumping turned into sharp echoes as an enraged Junjin turned to his katana to try and cut through. Go find Nara, brother… She's better than all of us, and she can still help you.
Walking to a small panel on the wall, Ethan flicked a small switch. The noise stopped, but the attacks didn't; Ethan could still feel the sword smashing itself blunt against his door. He waited a few suicidal seconds and then finally clicked a button and only then was the door truly locked. A simple twist of the doorknob would've reduced Ethan into bloody ribbons. Many thhings left to learn, Jin…
Ethan waited a few more minutes until the beating on his door stopped and dialed a friend on his portable vidphone. "Marcus, it's me. Be a good son and tell your father that I would like to speak with him at his earliest convenience." The man in the small screen smiled and nodded once, and brushed his militia uniform clean before cutting off the connection. The young Morimoto shrugged to himself, If the Kanrei can trust the yakuza, why can't I?
***
January 17, 3051
Several kilometres from Elusian City
Kalifax continent, Nirasaki
Al Na'ir Prefecture, Draconis Combine
"You can't trust the yakuza, isn't that what you always told me?" Marcus quoted, grinning knowingly, showing off his perfect white teeth again.
Ethan nodded and broke into a smile, showing his own. The two had lost most of their natural teeth years earlier when their own solar yacht slammed into a standing meteorite. "I also used to say you were smarter than me… I have been known to be wrong, you know." The two shared an easy laugh having exchanged nearly the same kind of conversation for years. Tonight was no different, and the fact that they were walking though a maze of hallways of a yakuza stronghold changed little in their behaviour.
"Nara's doing fine, Ethan." Marcus confided, "She's increased the intensity of her training again… she thinks having that baby softened her up." Unconsciously, Marcus rubbed his ribs, which were apparently sore.
It was turn for Ethan to grin knowingly. "I grew up with her, didn't I? She used to throw me through our dojo's walls… Buddha help anyone who pisses Nara off." A few silent moments passed. "How's the baby doing?"
"She has her mother's right hook." The pair laughed again, but stopped as they rounded a corner. From this point on, they would walk in silence. Proper respect needed to be maintained and displayed. After all, not everyone could get an audience with the head oyabun of Nirasaki in such short notice and it would not do to ruin it by idle talk.
The walk took longer than Ethan remembered as he slowed his pace to appreciate the subtlety in which the hallways were designed. It was as if each piece of wood, each bit of cloth and plant was arranged in the only possible manner they could be. Nirasaki birch, a highly prized – and priced – item was featured prominently on the walls. The birch alone in this 'home' could secure anyone a small personal DropShip and charter a JumpShip for several years.
Marcus left Ethan's side as they neared an unassuming door in the midst of grander ones. Ethan waited a few moments before the door opened and bowed his head, a bow to a superior, at the aged man before him. He wasted little time, not caring much for the Kuritan, or rather Japanese, tradition of approaching a topic through oblique conversation. That suited Ethan just fine.
"Why have you come here, young, or rather, eldest Morimoto?" The oyabun spoke with a flawless japanese accent. "Surely you did not lose another sibling in a deck of bad cards?"
Ethan showed no surprise at the oyabun's display of information; he had stopped being surprised after his first visit years ago. Now he just assumed the oyabun knew everything he did, at least. "No, sir," a calculated move, to call the oyabun only a 'sir'."I have come to ask if you have been having much trouble with the family on Ouanii," the continent which the Blue Heron Commune was based in, "as I believe we may share the same troubles."
The old man moved with a grace that he seldom displayed and stood up in a fluid manner. "Enough of this dancing around, Ethan. I came to power by following the traditions of our shared culture, but neither of us actually belong in them, do we?" When he received no response from the younger man, he continued. "I have lost a friend, you an uncle, and you wish to turn this unfortunate event into a possibility of finally ridding this world of my only rival and deflecting all the blame from your family for the decline of our once-utopia in one move."
Ethan shrugged. "That's the gist of it."
The elder man eyed him for several long minutes. Gauging his soul, weighing his heart, or wondering if Ethan's mind was completely and utterly broken for even suggesting such a thing. "They will find evidence… a dead assassin from Ouanii. Your uncle's friendship with me is well known, if seldom mentioned." For a moment, the older man was saddened. In a dismissive wave, he murmured to Ethan. "The news reporters will piece the rest together, if they would stop yammering."
For the second time in as many weeks, Ethan found himself walking in the rain to his car. The yakuza faction of Ouanii would be wiped out, the power struggle by the yakuza infiltrators in the government from both the Kalifax and Ouanii families would end and Nirasaki would be at peace with itself again. And for the second time in weeks, Ethan was glad that the rain hid his tears.
I don't know what the hell's wrong with FF.net, but it won't format the locations properly. There's a properly formatted version over at if it bothers you to read it like this.
A little slow in pace, and in coming, so I apologize. Thanks for the emails people!