Grey Ronin (The Awakened Book 3) Read online

  Mamoru looked ahead at the prowler dealer. “I wanted the money to be there.”

  “Can you teach me how to do that?”

  “Are you psionic?”

  “Oh, right,” Caiden kicked at the ground. “Nope.”

  “Stay close.”

  “Doing the thing with the cameras?”

  “Mmm.”

  They crept through the bustling mid-day crowd in the Aperture 2 courtyard. Workers out for a lunch break zoomed past on their way to their favorite street-meat wagon. Fumes tainted the air where they passed an artist who attracted a modest audience by creating images with physical paint rather than digital holograms. Caiden used Mamoru’s body to hide from the direction of Foster’s old shop, where a pair of low-ranking MDF officers out front looked about ready to fall asleep on their feet. Several head-sized orb bots floated around the alley leading to the back, their passage tracked by wide blue laser lines on the walls and ground.

  Caiden peered around, and shivered at the scene.

  “Perhaps it is a good thing people here have become so pale. It is hard to know when you are frightened.”

  He shot Mamoru a wounded look as they entered the prowler dealership. Caiden soon forgot all about his worries, fascinated by the gargantuan all-terrain vehicles. The tops of the massive tires towered two feet over Mamoru’s head. Caiden climbed all over one as a pudgy man tripped over himself to rush out of the attached office space and onto the lot.

  Mamoru pointed at one of the Mars-red ones. “I am in need of transportation. What is your fee for that machine?”

  “That one is four point two. It’s got some miles on it, couple of dings. The one next to it”―he pointed at the shiny black one―“that one’s brand new outta the factory. Less than four thousand miles on it, all the latest electronics and double-redundant life support.”

  “In an ideal situation, I will be back within a week or two. I do not need to be wasteful. What would you charge for the use of the red one for two weeks?”

  The salesman deflated, but tried to hide it.

  Mamoru frowned. “Regardless of the charge for the service, I will tip you two hundred and fifty thousand credits for your discretion.”

  “Two weeks?” asked the man. “Rental fees are usually about a thousand credits a day, but since that’s a used unit, I can let you use it for six hundred―with a returnable deposit.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Great,” said the salesman with a huge smile. “I’ll get started on the forms.”

  Journey

  he steady whirr of six motorized wheels vibrated through the hull as the prowler rumbled over open ground north of Arcadia. Mamoru’s unconscious body jostled in the driver’s seat with each dip in the terrain or boulder large enough for the tires to notice. Neither he nor Caiden had bothered to ask why the interior reeked with the overwhelming stench of cleaning chemicals.

  The boy spent the first hour alternating between staring at a plastic hula dancer at the center of the console and the Navcon, while covering most of his face with his shirt and both hands. He glanced at Mamoru, no longer enthralled by the shimmering energy surrounding him, and sighed.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Caiden jumped from the loud voice filling the vehicle. He spent the next minute choking on fumes from his sharp inhale. After wiping watery eyes on his sleeve, he blinked at Mamoru.

  “You can talk?”

  “Of course.” The prowler shifted with a slight leftward course adjustment.

  “Why are you driving like that?”

  Mamoru was quiet for a moment. “Like what? Too slow?”

  “No, I mean while sleeping.”

  “I’m not sleeping.” Internal speakers vibrated with an attempt to convey chuckling. “I am operating this vehicle with my mind.”

  “Oh, kind of like a wire?” Caiden poked a finger behind one ear.

  “I suppose that is a passable analogy.”

  The boy swiveled the seat to face center and slid forward until his feet hit the ground. “You sound tired. Want food or something?”

  “This is somewhat tiring. The ponderousness with which this beast lumbers is frustrating.”

  Mamoru brought the prowler to a halt and ceased concentrating on the mental link. His awareness settled back in to his body as Caiden appeared with a plastic carton. He accepted the offering with one hand as the other rubbed his eyes. A blast of dust shot out of the cushion when the boy jumped into his seat, a matching carton in his lap.

  “Why don’t you drive it like normal? It’s not as tiring.”

  He frowned at the over-cute chibi face on the top of the pre-packaged meal as he pulled the red cord. “I am not sure how to work the controls.”

  Caiden pulled the string on his. “You’re like, old. Don’t all old people know how to drive?”

  Hissing emerged from both boxes as they swelled, spewing the fragrance of instant ramen. When the sound stopped, they opened their meals and picked at the steaming broth and noodles.

  This smells like the water used to clean the pots. Mamoru risked a taste, finding it on the low end of tolerable. “I had drivers.”

  “What, you were rich or something?” He slurped some noodles. “Well, I guess you have as much money as you want.”

  Mamoru waved his hand to the side, spoon stuck between his fingers. “I do not do that often. The commerce authority can track abnormal patterns. Too many credits coming out of nowhere will make them suspicious. I was a samurai in the service of a powerful man. I had two women, a respectable home, and lived with privilege outside of the law that binds commoners.”

  “You had two girlfriends?” Caiden leaned closer.

  “Not in that sense. They were given to me by my shogun.”

  “What’s a shogun? Given to you? What, like slaves?” He made a scrunched face.

  “Shogun are called CEOs in the West.” He took his time with the next mouthful of noodles. “These women are those who have lost their status as a result of criminal activity or disgracing the company.”

  “That’s not nice… that you own people.”

  “It is complicated. They become assets of the company, not one man. When they are criminals, it is similar to your prison―a set amount of time to serve. Is it not kinder than sitting in a cage?”

  Caiden shrugged. “So your shogun’s mad at you?”

  Mamoru narrowed his eyes. “This Raziel has made him so. It was not of my doing.”

  “Did he take your women back?” The boy stared at him as more noodles slithered up through pursed lips.

  “They would have been given to another. Nami was once part of the upper class, but her father brought great shame on their family. She was strong. Ayame would not have endured.” He frowned at the floor. “She is too delicate.”

  A smile spread over Caiden’s face. “You set them free, didn’t you?”

  “What makes you think that?” Mamoru looked up, raising a brow. “That is no different than stealing.”

  “You sound sad talking about it. I bet you liked them, and you’re nice.”

  “I am not ‘nice.’ Nice men don’t cut other men in half as a favor to a veritable stranger.”

  Caiden closed the empty carton. “You’re nice to me. What’s Araphel like?”

  Mamoru shifted the seat to face forward and looked over the controls. Two prominent sticks. “I have never been there, and there is almost no information about it online.”

  “Sticks are pretty simple.” Caiden hopped out of the passenger seat, ducked under Mamoru’s arm and stood in front of him. “Left stick sideways turns the back wheels. Right stick sideways turns the front wheels. Up and down control the speed on that side.” He moved his hands through the air as if pushing invisible levers. “Left all the way forward, right all the way back and we’d spin.”

  “You know how to drive this thing?”

  “Sorta. I’ve watched the fighters do it all the time.” He pointed at the various readouts, buttons, and dial
s. Afterward, he glanced back over his shoulder with sad eyes. “You’re really gonna leave me in Araphel?”

  Mamoru kept a blank face despite a twinge of guilt. “I can think of nowhere safer for you. The police forces here are still part of the UCF military. If they discover you have gone to Earth, they may still pursue you.”

  Caiden looked down. “But, I didn’t even do anything but get beat up. What about Japan?”

  “As I said before, you would forever be an outsider there. I will do what I can to remove you from their systems, though you should still hide until those who studied your photo forget. I can do nothing to their memory.”

  “But, what am I gonna do in Araphel? Just be another street kid?”

  “Garrison was confident that there would be someone there willing to watch out for you. He told me many in the MLF go there when they need to hide. Perhaps it would be best for you to disassociate yourself from the movement and seek a normal life.”

  The boy folded his arms, trying to drill through the prowler’s side with his stare. “Bad people go there too, anyone who needs to hide from the law. What if it’s not safe?”

  Mamoru put a hand on Caiden’s shoulder. The boy’s lip quivered at the contact. “I am not a good role model. You, and your fellows, fight for what you believe in. You have an ideology that inspires you to risk your lives for a better world. I believe in honor, money, and status.”

  Caiden sniffled. “You’re not as mean as you try to act. It’s okay. I know you don’t wanna get stuck with a kid to watch.”

  “I have enemies, boy.” Mamoru grasped the sticks and pushed them both up.

  The prowler lurched forward, pushing Caiden into his lap. He held on to the armrests to avoid being thrown to the ground as Mamoru experimented with steering and alternating throttle.

  “Careful,” said Caiden. “You can do a small turn by speeding up one side without twisting the wheels.” When he trusted inertia not to fling him away, he held on to the sticks on top of Mamoru’s hands and guided them. “Here, like this.”

  Mamoru furrowed his brow, annoyed at a ten-year-old talking to him like a child in need of learning. He swallowed his pride and let the boy show him. In this case, age was not a measure of experience. Some minutes later, Caiden trudged to the passenger seat and flopped down. A patch of rough stones jostled them about, though the prowler’s tires took them in stride.

  “I know you gotta leave me there, but can I stay with you till you go?”

  Mamoru glanced at the Navcon, sliding the left stick farther up than the right to induce a mild rightward turn. “Are you hoping to endear yourself to me to the point I change my mind?”

  The boy picked at the seat, not looking up. “Uh, maybe.”

  “Your life will be happier in this place than at my side, Caiden. I do not know what awaits me back on Earth. I am the target of assassins. If they detect a weakness, they will exploit it.”

  “You don’t want them to use me against you.”

  Mamoru remained quiet.

  Caiden tilted his head, attempting to hide a smile behind his hair.

  Araphel

  everal hours of driving brought them over hard wind-swept ground that even the prowler’s weight could not mark. The same violent polar gusts that made flying too risky wiped out what little tracks the vehicle created. Mamoru stared at a Navcon point Garrison provided, which led to a desolate ridgeline. He brought the great vehicle to a halt, though it continued swaying in the gale. Stones ranging in size from pebble to fist bounced off the hull. A few hit hard enough to cause the video display mimicking a windshield to pixilate for a moment.

  “This is the location, but there is nothing here.”

  Caiden swung his feet back and forth for a moment. “Um. Remember Garrison said you gotta send that message.”

  “Right.” Mamoru fiddled with the console, taking a moment to locate the communication system. He set the transmission mode to manual and forced the frequency to 777 Mhz. He held up his NetMini, displaying the note he took from Garrison, and read aloud. “Seek shelter from thine enemies among the rocks, and from the darkness watch.”

  Silence. They glanced at each other for a few minutes.

  Caiden offered a cheesy smile and scratched his head. “Guess there’s no Araphel after all. We should go back before it gets dark.”

  “Hey, y’all.” An older male voice crackled through on an audio-only signal. Static interference worsened in time with the wind. “Just a one-man science post up in the hills. You folks lost?”

  Mamoru shook his head at the notes. “Ran out of sugar, was wondering if I could borrow a cup.” He muted the comm. “Who came up with this?”

  “I dunno.” Caiden stared into his lap, fidgeting with his shirt. “I guess they wanted something no one would ever say on accident.”

  “You came a long way for sugar, why’d you think I’d have any?”

  Exasperation leaked through Mamoru’s words. “Garrison’s whipping up some cornbread.”

  “Fair enough.” The phantom voice lost the timbre of an old man, deepening. “Come up about seventy meters ahead and face the wall.”

  A nudge on both sticks got them moving.

  “You’re getting better at driving,” said Caiden.

  Mamoru stopped at the designated point and glanced to his left at the ridge. Caiden made a gesture with his hands as if moving sticks―back left forward right. Mamoru copied it on the actual controls, rotating the prowler in place to bring the nose facing the wall.

  A section of ridge sank inward until it went flat on the ground, revealing a large tunnel. Inside, where the wind could not reach, numerous tire tracks crisscrossed in the silt. Not wanting to chance his meager skills in tight confines, Mamoru linked with the prowler. Embodying the device made control as simple as walking, and he navigated the passage with ease. A mile later, the tunnel ended at a huge underground chamber. Nine other prowlers parked here and there around support columns of plastisteel and stone, some with crews working on them. Smaller open-topped rovers lined up near stacks of metal shipping boxes, and a handful of ATVs with oversized, fat wheels clustered on the far right.

  The wall opposite where they entered was more than a hundred and fifty meters away, a smooth surface of plain Mars rock with a square tunnel cut into the midpoint. Strips of light ran through the corridor, embedded in all four corners. A large banner hung on either side of the tunnel, bearing a black field with an image of Mars at the center. Gold lettering superimposed on the planet read Pueri Verum Martis.

  Mamoru pulled in to an open prowler-sized space, defined by a painted yellow rectangle, and stopped. An instant of desire commanded the machine to power down. He moved for the door, pausing to look when the boy did not stand.

  “I will not leave you in a bad situation.”

  Caiden looked at him with a morose face, sighed, and stood. “Okay.”

  Mamoru went down the ladder first. The air smelled of lubricant and metal, as well as the ever-present taste of dirt. He cringed inside. I’m going to be imagining the flavor of dirt for months. Caiden closed the hatch and shimmied down the boarding ladder, jumping the last bit to the ground with a heavy stomp that echoed through the cavernous garage. Workers operating on another prowler some distance away stopped what they were doing and glanced up at the noise. The sight of a pair of new arrivals did not keep their interest for more than a few seconds.

  Caiden leaned back, staring up at the blackness as the pair walked towards the entry tunnel. Mamoru cast a wary look upward, half expecting a ninja to be waiting overhead. Indistinct shapes of crossbeams, catwalks, and girders hid behind the glare of harsh lights. He dismissed it, and picked up his pace. At the sound of his steps clanking on the metal floor of the tunnel, Caiden looked down and hurried to catch up.

  From the mouth of the tunnel, the distant glow of a subterranean city illuminated the walls, overpowering the feeble light from the four strips. Once in the hallway, the snapping buzz of failing electronics bec
ame noticeable. Every so often, and more common among the two ground-level lights, a three-foot section flickered. Mamoru exhaled through his nose, trying to force away the stink of fried silicon.

  The tunnel went twenty meters at a slight downward grade, ending at an elevated metal platform with a waist-high railing. A vaulted stone ceiling opened into a cavernous space above one and two story buildings. Araphel, the city, stretched out before them, seven stories down from the level of the tunnel. Flickering holographic signs danced in the darkness, illuminating patches of wall with various colors. Far off, six-story structures similar in appearance to skyscrapers connected floor to ceiling. A conspicuous lack of advert bots left the streets darker than expected, save for the occasional gasping flutter of an ancient lamp. The fragrance of food, beer, and piss battled for prominence in a mild, but constant breeze.

  Fortunately, food was winning.

  Mamoru regarded the sight with curiosity―the absence of advert bots seemed somehow wrong. Caiden approached the railing to the right of a square slab elevator, of size enough to transport a light truck or car. He stood on tiptoe and hung his head out over the side. Saliva gathered in a wad on his lip, lingered a second, and fell. Mamoru cleared his throat. The boy fell on his heels, looking back with an impish smile. Mamoru pointed with a grunt and walked left toward a stairway. Once Caiden couldn’t see his face, he allowed himself a faint smile. The entire frame of the stairway rattled and clanked as they descended through six switchback platforms.

  At the bottom, ill-set plastisteel plates three meters square attempted to smooth out the dirt beneath them. He paused, glancing left, right, and straight ahead at the three streets leading away from the entrance. Since he’d been on mars, he’d come to expect a certain degree of grunge coating everything, but this place went beyond. Everyone carried weapons of one type or another, handguns more often than not, but rifles and even swords passed by in the crowd. Quite a few individuals had metal arms or legs, some with mounted blades. Over a few minutes of people watching, not a single person under the age of twenty-ish went by.

  Caiden shivered and edged closer. “I don’t see any kids.”