The God Mars Book Five: Onryo (38 page)

“
Jikininki
…” she mutters. Then chuckles sadly.
And tells me: “A story Akinaga-sama told me when I was a child, a
lesson: If a person is too greedy in life, they will return in
death as a
Jikininki
, a spirit that must live by eating
human corpses.”

“They call me
Onryō
,” I tell her. “The Eureka
Keepers named the owner of this Seed that.”

“Vengeful Spirit,” she knows.

“They murdered his wife and child. I still feel his
rage, his grief.”

She slows, turns to me.

“Is he part of you?” she guesses.

“He is,” I admit. Then lie again: “He always will be,
I suppose. A ghost in the Seed’s programming.”

“Does he control you?” she’s concerned, and not
buying my understating.

“No,” I keep lying. “But I hear him sometimes. There
wasn’t much left of him when I found him.” Or the other way
around.

We head around the north side of the Spine, and climb
up to the exit of the escape tunnel. We seal it behind us once
we’re inside, hoping that hides the entrance again.

Terina hurries through the length of the tunnel, but
then hesitates when we get to the inner-slope door. She has a lot
to be apprehensive about, starting with her new appearance and how
her people will accept it. I suppose she could say she is someone
else, another immortal ally, like I did. But her father knows what
she’d gone to do. And she’s still dressed and armed like the First
Daughter of the War King.

“I can go first,” I offer.

“Summon my father,” she asks quietly. “Please.”

I push aside the stone door, only to find we have a
reception party.

Ram and Erickson are there, along with all of the
others: Straker, Elias, Dee, Stilson, Bly, Bel, Lux and Azazel. I
see various reactions in their eyes as they see Terina. Only Lux
has the nerve to grin at the result.

Ram gestures us to move out of the tunnel in a
certain way, and I realize it’s to keep out of direct view of the
Stormcloud. We should be able to move down through the passage of
rocks without being seen, get to the relative shelter of the City
proper.

But the Terina’s father blocks our path. With him is
Negev and Cousteau. All three look shocked speechless, but then
Khan’s face twists in agony. He steels himself as his daughter
steps up to him, her Companion held low and behind her. She lowers
her eyes, ashamed, but then makes herself raise them to lock her
father’s hard gaze.

“I am still your daughter,” she insists firmly. “My
heart is still Katar.”

He doesn’t respond for a long time, and when he
finally does, he’s looking past her to the rest of us.

“Come. Please.”

I can feel Terina trying not to weep as he turns and
leads us down into the City, toward the Oculus. He doesn’t look
back at her.

Erickson is looking more himself as we walk.

“They fed me,” he tells me in my head when I
discreetly ask after his condition, “though I don’t think I’ll ever
get used to the cuisine.”

He’s also not nearly as hot. Neither are the rest of
us, but Ram cautions that we still keep some physical distance from
the Normals. I try repeating this message to Terina in case she
didn’t hear, but she doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at me, just
marches at the head of our odd group as if still our guide, her
Companion held blade-down with the shaft behind her arm and
shoulder like her warriors do. She even marches in step with
them.

I ask Peter to try to get a “closed” message to
Erickson, who’s walking closest to me.

“Did you tell Khan… did you tell him about his
daughter?”

“We had to tell him something,” I hear Erickson. His
voice in my head sounds deeply sad.

“We told him we’d found her,” Ram interjects. “We
told him she wouldn’t be the same, might not even me herself.”

Of course they wouldn’t have known until she woke…
But then I realize: If Ram heard me, then Terina may have. If she
did, she doesn’t react, doesn’t even break her intent stride.

We’re led again to the “war room” underneath the
structure. I can’t help but notice three bots positioned on the
Plaza as if standing guard: Two Bugs and a Box that looks like it
was assembled out of salvaged components. They’re out in the open,
where Asmodeus (and Fohat) can certainly see them. I remember
Dakota and Snyder… Did they beg Chang for release? Or could he not
bear being in the company of his former atrocities?

Peter has already altered my face back to his. When
Terina sees it, it gives her a start, but she seems to understand
quickly enough when she sees my father and Rashid are waiting with
the other Kings, as is the Ghaddar. The Ghaddar meets my gaze
briefly, coolly, then ignores me. The Kings all must suppress their
shock and horror at Terina’s condition, but it thoroughly disrupts
their focus.

Ram speaks first:

“You must prepare your people for evacuation. You can
move them out through your tunnels under cover of night. Heaters
placed throughout the City will convince Asmodeus that you’re still
here. Then we can deal with him. If he damages your homes, we will
help you rebuild. It can
all
be rebuilt. But your lives
cannot be replaced.”

“We’ve beaten this monster before,” Stilson tries to
reassure.

“We’ve beaten
Chang
,” Dee unexpectedly
corrects him, stepping forward. “Ange Apollyon—Asmodeus—is
something else entirely.”

“But I thought Asmodeus was Chang’s strategist?” my
father remembers.

“Anyone Asmodeus served when he was a man, he was
also sabotaging,” Dee explains. Ram nods like he knows. “Anyone who
thought they were his master, he ultimately destroyed, just on
principle.”

“He
let
us defeat Chang,” I blurt out as I
realize. Then I hastily correct: “You.” But my father is glaring at
me suspiciously again.

“Asmodeus is brilliant, merciless, and doesn’t care
about costs,” Ram insists, ignoring my slip. “He does what he does
just to prove that he can, to prove he’s the better killer. I don’t
even think he enjoys his victories. His only joys that I know of
are rape, torture and murder.”

“And this monster has my people,” Bly growls.

“And mine,” Straker throws in. “Assuming there are
any left.”

“Only as playthings,” Dee gives them the bad news
they’ve probably already assumed.

“What about Astarte?” I confront. “What is she doing
with him?”

“What she does: Position herself,” Ram defends.
“She’ll have convinced Asmodeus that he controls her, like he used
to.”

“No matter the cost,” Dee says what Ram holds
back.

“She will have done whatever she could to protect
your people from his lusts, but she would have to sacrifice,” Bel
gives hope and takes it in the same sentence.

“She can’t communicate with us until we strike,” Ram
confirms.

“And what then?” my father asks. “Will she fight with
us, or will she keep up her subterfuge, whatever the cost?”

“It depends on what she knows,” Ram admits grimly.
“If the game is bigger than this battle, then she’ll keep playing
her role.”

“Then we’ll know we’re in trouble,” Lux accepts as
lightly as she can.

“How do we know this isn’t just a big show to
distract us from something else?” Erickson wonders.

“We don’t,” Ram allows. “But we have this…”

In our heads, we share video, culled from live
satellite feed, zooming down on the Stormcloud. On the bow deck,
where he’d have a view overlooking Katar, sits Asmodeus, slouched
in a reclining seat.

“Is that a deck chair?” Bel identifies, like that
means something. The frame of the long rectangular chair is white,
while the seat looks like stretched fabric, colored with bold blue
and white stripes. Next to it sits a small table, on which is a
large beverage cup adorned with some kind of plant garnish.

As we watch him, he makes a gesture, and is joined on
deck by Astarte, escorting by force a dark-haired female, who looks
like she’s wearing only tattered and bloodied rags. I can see what
could be Zodangan tattoos on her exposed skin. The girl is forced
to kneel between Asmodeus’ legs, facing him. Someone thankfully
cuts the feed as Asmodeus pulls her head forward, but our
imaginations certainly play the worst for us anyway.

“No matter the cost,” Bly hisses.

“But we know he’s there,” Stilson distills.
“Now.”

The problem is, we all want to go and punish him now,
but can’t afford to until we move the Katar out of harm’s way. And
formulate our attack plan.

“How do we even get to him?” I wonder out loud.

“We need to cripple his ship,” Bly reasons. “Pull its
teeth and break its wings. Destroy his offensive capabilities
before he can use them to repel us. Break his engines before he can
fly it away and hide it again. Then board and take him before he
can abandon ship.”

“We need more guns,” Azazel picks out the obvious
flaw in the plan.

“Can we count on the Unmakers for any support?” my
father asks Ram with clear reluctance. “Or will they just bomb and
blast from orbit like cowards?”

Ram shakes his head. “We can’t use the UNMAC forces.
Asmodeus can monitor them too easily. He’ll start the slaughter if
he sees or hears them trying anything. If he can’t kill the Katar,
he’ll aim for Pax, or White Station. Or orbit.”

“What about
your
people?” I ask Stilson and
the Carters. They look beaten, frustrated.

“They’re helping to develop countermeasures, a
‘vaccine’ against Harvester infection,” Stilson reports miserably,
“but the Council still refuses to engage in any kind of violence.
Even if any of the former Guardians wanted to come to our aid, as
long as their Tools are all network-disabled, they’re effectively
unarmed. And they have no skill with small arms, even if you had
any to spare.”

“Then we need to take him with what we have,” Bly
decides. “But first we get all of you out of harm’s way.”

“Not all of us,” my father insists. “My people and I
will stay. As you said, you need guns.”

In my head, someone is playing with a 3D graphic map
of the City, playing views from orbit and from the vantage of the
Stormcloud. I see moving models run, the City populated by blips
all swarming orderly to the tunnel exits and out.

“What are you thinking?” Ram asks Dee, identifying
who’s doing the modeling.

“Asmodeus is smart,” Dee warns us again needlessly,
but then clarifies his concerns. “We can move everyone out without
them being seen, but there’s the time it will take. A few immobile
heaters won’t look convincing. He’ll vaporize the City as soon as
he figures out he’s being played. All he’d have to do is fire a
warning shot, and when those blips don’t react, he’ll know.”

“Then we will give him a convincing target,” Khan
speaks up to insist. “We will leave a compliment of warriors to
make a show of defense. We have also used techniques to convince
enemies we have more than we do, so it will look like our entire
force is standing to defy him.”

Ram nods his acceptance, but heavily. He doesn’t want
to risk fragile lives. One shot from those railguns could wipe them
all out in an instant, and we wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing
about it.

“And we also will need to protect the evacuation,”
Dee considers other vulnerabilities. “If he does discover the
exodus, he won’t just take his frustrations out on your City. He’ll
at least send Harvester drones to intercept and slaughter them. He
may already have them in place, anticipating our play.”

“Or bots,” my father adds. “Discs.”

“Let me worry about those,” Dee tells him. “It’s the
Harvesters I can’t crack. Their signals are too weak, and they’ll
keep running on their hunting algorithms even if I cut their
command signals.”

“So we need to keep you out of the firing line,” Ram
insists.

“But I have to be close,” Dee counters.

“We’ll need to divide,” Erickson figures. “Some of us
will have to escort the evacuees.”

“And miss the real fun,” Lux sulks.

“Let’s hope so,” Ram returns. He looks at Khan and
the other Kings, and at my father. He’s clearly unhappy with the
thought of putting them in front of Asmodeus’ guns, but he knows we
have few choices and little time. And Khan and my father aren’t
going to run and hide, not even from certain death, not when so
many innocent lives are in the balance.

I see Ram spinning possibilities in his head,
alternatives, but it doesn’t look like he has any better ideas. But
then something does seem to strike him, and he lightens just a bit
and tells us:

“I think I know where we can get a few more willing
guns.”

While we make our preparations, Ram disappears from
the City without explanation. We hear no signals from him, and if
any of the others know where he’s gone, they don’t speak of it.

He doesn’t return until a few hours after nightfall,
through the northern tunnel. He’s alone, and calls for the Katar to
prepare to move their people out.

In the meanwhile, Asmodeus has not moved, except to
continue his display of rape for the eyes in orbit, throwing the
broken and mutilated bodies of two of his “slaves” over the side of
his ship, to lay twisted and naked on the field beyond the Wall
where we can all see.

If the Unmakers are making any preparations of their
own, they’ve been sure not to do it on a networked channel, but
shuttles have gone up and down between their Melas base, which I
expect is an expensive use of their limited fuel.

It’s during all of this preparation that I finally
get to see Ambassador Murphy, gathered with the evacuating
civilians. He’s limited to walking with handmade crutches, and
looks pale and drawn, but he’s still willing and eager to do his
part to defend the evacuees from potential ambush.