“What about the space monster?” asked a pirate.
“For the next two days, Toru will be conducting training in the cargo hold.” He didn’t know that yet, so informing the Iron Guard would be amusing. “The Jap doesn’t think we can do this. Let’s prove him wrong.”
“The Chairman killed this thing before, and we killed the Chairman,” Lance said. “I like our odds.”
Traitor.
That was what they were calling him now. The word stung.
Toru was one of the thousand sons of Okubo Tokugawa. He had served with distinction in the elite Imperium Iron Guard and had once even been in contention for the vaunted position of First. He had served in several war zones, winning multiple commendations for his bravery and tactical prowess. He had then been assigned to the Imperium Diplomatic Corps and been a student of Ambassador Hattori, one of the original members of the legendary Dark Ocean. Toru’s integrity should have been above reproach.
He was following the final command of his father, a command so important that even death could not keep the Chairman from issuing it. He alone was honoring the wishes of the greatest man who had ever lived. It was the Imperium which had lost its way. They were the fools who were blindly following an imposter. Ambassador Hattori had given Toru his memories at the moment of his death. Toru knew the truth. Only Toru understood that the Enemy was coming. The vulture that was profiting from the real Chairman’s death was hiding that dreaded fact. Who were these dogs to question his honor? Who were they to call him traitor?
The Grimnoir had intercepted the Imperium communication in San Francisco and brought it to him for translation. It had been a test. He had no doubt that since the Grimnoir did not trust him, they would have his translation checked for accuracy. There were no Imperium secrets in the letter to protect, so he had given them the truth.
The message had been a warning to all of the cells working within the United States that Iron Guard Toru was a traitor to the Imperium, and that if that he was spotted, to alert their handlers at once. It had then gone on to list his many crimes, a few of which were even true. It had read that one of the thousand sons of Okubo Tokugawa had fallen in with the Grimnoir Society. This was an insult to the Imperium and a shame upon the Order of Iron Guard. He had murdered Ambassador Hattori and several of his own men. Since Toru had only murdered one of the men, that made him suspect that the assassins that had been sent by the false Chairman had removed the other embassy staff who had known too much.
Gold was promised to anyone who could provide information on Toru’s whereabouts, and anyone who managed to erase this shame from the world would be given a wealth beyond their dreams and a position of importance within the court bureaucracy.
Toru Tokugawa was now the most wanted man in the Imperium.
The worst part was that every espionage plan he’d been involved with, and there were many that had originated at the Washington embassy, were now compromised. Cells would be rearranged. Undercover agents would be pulled. The Chairman’s mission of conquest in America had been dealt a severe blow. The message implied that Toru had been a Grimnoir agent, and that he had been recruited years ago after losing face and shaming himself as a coward during the occupation of Manchuria. That was nothing but an insult. Toru truly loved the Imperium. He would never betray the Chairman’s mission of purification. He believed in the doctrine of strength above all else. His integrity would never allow him to give valuable Imperium secrets to the Grimnoir. He was only here because his father’s ghost had demanded it.
His attempt at meditation was a failure. Peace would not come. His mind would not clear. Toru’s bed consisted of a mat and a few blankets thrown down on the cold metal floor, and now, meditating only seemed to focus his discomforts. The small portion of the cargo hold which he had claimed for himself was permanently chilled. The constant thrum of the Traveler’s unearthly engines grated on his nerves. He had given up his position of status for this?
What he really wanted to do was take up his steel tetsubo and start smashing things, but a warrior did not disgrace himself with displays of emotion, especially when among his people’s enemies. He would not show weakness in front of the wretched Grimnoir… Also, the interior of a fragile dirigible was a terrible place to go mad with an eighty-pound club and superhuman strength.
How dare they bring up Manchuria? Yes, he had questioned his leaders, but it had not been because of cowardice… It had been… What? He had disobeyed those orders why? Compassion? No… That was not what had cost him his promotion and gotten him removed from the front and sent to serve with the Diplomatic Corps in America. That was not why he’d disobeyed.
It had been guilt. It had been conscience.
He crushed the letter in his fist and tried to go back to his meditations. After a few minutes of futile mental exercise, he decided to concentrate on physical exercise instead. The one thing the Traveler had in abundance was pipes sticking through the walls, and he’d already found a few solid enough to do chin-ups from.
Careful not to tap into his own Power or any of the eight magical kanji branded onto his skin, for that would have been cheating, Toru began doing repetitions. The stronger his own body was, the harder he could push his Power without damage. Since it was discovered that he was a Brute, the Imperium schools had made sure he’d spent hours a day doing physical training, every day, for a decade. Toru was no stranger to exercise. Besides, it helped him think.
The Imperium had wanted him to read this message. Diplomatic Corps training had taught him that a message such as this would have been encrypted. This message had not been. Surely, as soon as they discovered that he had faked his own death, the code key would have been changed. He should not have been able to read a real, current message.
They were trying to shake him. They were trying to insult him, make him angry, to cause him to do something foolish. If that was the case, they had underestimated his resolve. It would not work. Okubo Tokugawa’s final command had been to Jake Sullivan, ergo, Toru was honor-bound to see Sullivan’s mission completed, no matter what.
If the imposter wanted a fight, so be it. He might look and sound just like the Chairman, but it was doubtful that he would be nearly as invincible.
“Toru.”
Distracted and purposefully limiting his magical senses, he had not heard Sullivan approach. The Heavy was quiet for his size. Toru let go of the pipe and dropped to the floor. “How long have you been there?”
“About thirty chin-ups.”
Toru had counted forty-two and hadn’t yet begun to sweat, but with so many men who hated him on this vessel, allowing someone to sneak up on him was unacceptable. He would have to pay better attention in the future. “What do you want?”
Sullivan wandered into the storage room, idly inspecting the pile of weapons stacked on the floor. The broken remains of Toru’s Iron Guard katana were on top of the stack. Thankfully, Sullivan did not remark on the broken sword. He’d been there when Toru had smashed it to demonstrate his resolve. “It’s about the crew.”
“If they cannot comprehend the enormity of the task, then they will fail.”
“Fighting in the Great War taught me a few things. I’ve seen what happens when you kill a unit’s morale. You might as well kill their bodies, ’cause next time they go into combat, they’re either useless or good as dead.”