Hanzo stood by the pilot's console as the great warship lifted into the air. It had been an interesting, if rapid, few minutes for him. First, fighting Genji by the emergency exit set on a plateau on the mountain. And then, after his body and those of the Japanese soldiers had been recovered, shooting arrows at the miscellaneous soldiers that had appeared from the doorway.
He could not help but wonder what they were doing there. Escaping was, of course, the most likely scenario. But they did not look like clones. He suspected that they were allies of Genji; rag-tag friends he had collected along the way. Like that English girl, raggedy and slender, who had somehow dispatched almost an entire squadron of his soldiers.
Anyway, they were beyond his care or control now. He had shot at least one of them, which he considered a triumph. He had recovered Genji, and more importantly, the katana. And he had overcome the base. The sooner he reached Japan now, the better. There was still so much to do, and his father would be waiting.
A small part of him wished he had kept the English girl – Tracy, if he remembered correctly. Her ability to evade attacks, as if disappearing from sight and time, had astounded him, and he had only been paying a slither of attention to her. The rest of his squadron were in varying states of shock, and swore on their honour that she had been teleporting.
Which was, of course, ridiculous.
Wasn't it?
Hanzo clapped his pilot on the shoulder. They were in the air now. The warship would continue to rise until it slipped out of the Earth's atmosphere. And then, after a pleasant few hours that would feel entirely stationary, they would descend. These warships, designed and constructed only a few years before the Fallout, were the most advanced and most useful Hanzo had ever heard of. It was a shame that civilisation had ground to such an abrupt halt.
Still, at least the Homeland continued. He would do anything for Japan.
He left the command centre and headed in the vague direction of his bunk. He could do with a rest. Genji might not have been a trained fighter, but he had formed more of a challenge than Hanzo was willing to admit. The younger brother fought with speed and ferocity. Lately Hanzo's only rivals beyond the training grounds were sluggish undead, or clunky robots. An entirely different concern, but hardly a challenge in the right circumstances.
He was still thinking about how strange it had been to fight his brother when a young woman, her hair cut short and ragged like a school boy's, rushed toward him down the corridor, her path illuminated by the gentle artificial lights and blinking signs.
'Yes?' He asked.
'Commander, I…'
'Please, just Hanzo.' He did not say it with humour. He was not interested with unnecessary formalities or titles he had not earned. 'The Commander is my father.'
She nodded dutifully. 'Yes… sir. I have just come from the med bay.'
'I am fascinated to hear it.'
'Your brother is there, sir.'
'He will be moved to the morgue shortly, I have no doubt. A great tragedy for the Shimada family. A terrible loss of potential. But with every death comes honour, and with honour, redemption.'
The girl gulped. 'Actually, sir, the head medical officer believes they can save him. He said…'
Hanzo never heard the rest of that sentence. He was already on his way to the med bay.
The Chief Medical Officer was a broad, matronly woman by the name of Shunladi, who Hanzo knew was related to Maya in some way, though he could not remember how. He wondered how Maya was doing in the fight, where she had ended up, if she was injured.
'Tell me.' He said the moment he walked through the doors.
Shunladi did not even look up. Through Maya, she had known the Shimada boys since they were… well, boys. Hanzo was more or less a nephew to her, and she treated him with much less deferential respect, or fear, than the others on the warship.
'You shouldn't have dropped your brother off a mountain, Hanzo. That was stupid.'
She loved to call him stupid, as he so often was.
'He was trying to kill me.'
'Young, misunderstood, afraid. These are the traits of boys surrounded by bigger, stronger boys. You have not evolved, Hanzo. You are a schoolyard bully.'
'I have never bullied anyone in my life,' Hanzo countered, with some pride for his own conviction.
'I genuinely believe you do not know the meaning of the word.' Shunladi snapped.
She was hunched over a figure on a table that Hanzo now recognised as his younger brother. There was little enough of him left to recognise; a broken, fractured creature, a mound of crippled flesh and bone that was as indistinctly Japanese as it was meat. There was nothing of Genji left. Scraps of clothing clung to exposed muscle, bones tore from skin, and blood soaked all like holy sacrament. Hanzo had to force himself not to look away.
'Tell me.' Hanzo repeated, his voice softer this time.
'I tell you that death would have been the kinder option.' Shunladi's voice was harsh, but it too retreated to a softer tone. 'But he is alive. There is no doubt he is of your father's clan. He shares your blood.'
'The girl said…'
'I know what the girl said, I told her to say it.' Some of Shunladi's medical assistants returned from their various tasks and, working with many hands, they began to put Genji together again. At least, as best they could. 'We may be able to save Genji. May. But it will require your father's money, and Hana Song's technology.'
Hanzo's eyebrows raised. Song, the South Korean gamer-turned-defender, was as intelligent as any woman he'd ever met. Not only that but she was skilled on a level that few others reached after decades of training, yet she was not even out of her teens.
'What could you need that she has?' Hanzo asked.
'Tech.' Shunladi shrugged. 'Remember, very little of the world's tech survived the Fallout. So much of it turned against us, in the…'
'I remember.' Hanzo snapped, thinking of his father's involvement in the end of the world. He knew as much about the robots, about the undead, about the nuclear destruction, as anyone. More than most, in fact. More than he wanted to.
'Well, then you know that the MEKA suit is one of the most advanced pieces of technology to remain isolated from the Omnic mainframe. And we need it.'
Omnic, another word which sent shivers down Hanzo's spine. The robots which had rebelled called themselves omnics, supposedly after a sea monster. Their hive mind terrified Hanzo. It was estimated by his father's advisors that 87% of the world's technology was now anti-human. The thirteen percent that remained was almost entirely situated with Japan.
Omnics, he shuddered again. The last thing they wanted was to introduce a harmful computer virus to his brother.
'So, explain this to me once more,' he said to Shunladi, whose arms were soaked to the elbow in blood and gore. 'You are going to turn my brother into a robot?'
'More accurately a cyborg.' Shunladi responded. 'But yes, that's the general idea. If we can manage it without turning him into an Omnic drone. And for that we need access to Hana Song's tech. Only it has the advanced cerebral cortex transistor that will do what we need it to. Do you understand?'
Hanzo nodded, but it was a nod like a sigh, foreshadowing the hours and days of exasperation to come. He realised what was required of him. He did not have to like it.
'I will get you the access.' He said. 'Hana will listen to me. And if not, my father. But my brother, will he…?'
'He will enjoy the best quality of life he can, given the circumstances, do not ask me if it will be worth it. That is a stupid thing to say.' Shunladi shook her head. 'You should not have pushed him off a mountain.'
Hanzo took that as a que to leave.
The ship felt empty, though it was not. He was approached by several members of the staff and crew, mostly asking how he was and how the battle had gone. He was forced to admit that the battle, for himself at least, had been short. One quick duel, and then a few arrows fired, and he had been re-joining those on the warship to prepare for a hasty retreat. It had almost not been worth it. Then again, how was he to know in advance that his only people would be landing at the exact same time as Genji would be preparing his escape.
Had Genji been trying to escape? It was hard to tell. The younger brother had, of course, been at the back exit. And he had been with his closest companion, the girl. But had they been leaving the rest of their companions? Perhaps trying to draw Hanzo away from the facility?
It had not worked. The reports stated that hundreds were dead – a mixture of clone forces and Japanese. It was Genji's fault. Hanzo would not have signalled the attack if not for his brother's treachery and stubbornness.
The last few months had been long. The relief of knowing that Genji was finally back under their control was exhilarating.
The reports also stated that they had breached the atmosphere, which was a wonderful development, and that the second warship (which had attacked the front entrance of the facility) was not yet behind them. Apparently the troops had had difficulty returning to the warship after the retreat was sounded due to a force of machines that had swarmed from behind, catching the Japanese between a pincer formation of clone and robot armies. An accidental formation, no doubt, but an inconvenient one all the same.
'How many will be joining us?' Hanzo asked.
'None.' The first-mate, delivering the information, had responded grimly. 'We are receiving no communication from the warship. We must assume that it will never leave the earth again.'
'Destroyed?' Hanzo considered, just for a moment, turning their own vessel around.
'Perhaps.'
It was too late, of course. Whatever happened in the abandoned facility of America's desert was in the past. The troops of the warship may be dead, but the raid had been a success, and that was all that mattered to Hanzo.
'Thank you. Keep me updated.'
Hanzo left the first-mate, who immediately returned to the Bridge to meet with the pilot. Hanzo, feeling useless on board the vessel, wandered aimlessly. He was equally useless in the med-bay. Was his only skill truly fighting?
No. He was a leader as well, like his father. People looked to him. He had authority.
To have authority was not a skill.
He sighed. It served no purpose to beat himself up. There were plenty of enemies willing to do that for him. What he should do was accept that which he could control, and move on. Genji was alive, if injured. Many of his men were dead. The mission had been a success. Hadn't it?
He heard something then. A crackle in the air vents. A thud. He looked up, and noticed the smallest of dents in the metal of the roof above.
Something, he realised, was crawling in the roof. Something alive. He drew his bow, and nocked an arrow.
Whatever it was would not get far.