The imposter’s handsome face was an unreadable mask. “You are in the northern monitoring station.”
“I am beyond your reach for now. If it makes any difference to your decision, on my honor as an Iron Guard—”
“You are no Iron Guard.”
“I am Iron Guard!” Toru bellowed, finally losing control of his temper and unconsciously reclaiming something which he had forsaken. “I am the only one fulfilling our real mission! I only care about the destruction of the Pathfinder. Once that is done, you need not worry about me being a threat to you. Awake the Imperium. Tell them the Pathfinder is coming. Once that is done, I will take my own life and trouble you no more.”
The false Chairman chuckled, and then it turned into full-blown laughter. “The memories of Hattori have changed you, Toru. You are no longer the selfish boy that I knew. Such a futile yet noble gesture. Killing yourself to protect the Imperium… I was not aware you had it in you.” The imposter’s voice had not changed, but his manner of speaking had. “Certainly, I could see you killing yourself out of pride, or in some misguided protest, but on behalf of others? Impressive. However, it is far too late for that now. The Imperium’s course is set. The end is inevitable.”
He sounded familiar… Toru had listened for hours in the academy as the proud history of the Iron Guard had been drilled into their impressionable young minds by one of its original members. “Master Saito? It is you?”
The imposter gave him a malicious leer. The expression seemed completely alien on the Chairman’s normally composed face. “You were always a quick study, Toru. One of my better students. You could have been promoted to First, but you lacked resolve. I can see that has changed.”
Dosan Saito had been one of the senior members of their order, one of the Chairman’s trusted inner circle of advisors, and a master sensei of the Iron Guard Academy. Toru knew this from his own memories and Hattori’s before that. “But you were Dark Ocean!” Toru was stunned. “How could you betray him?”
“You know so little…” the imposter shook his head with exaggerated sadness. “I have been preparing for this for a very long time. When Okubo died, events were set in motion.”
Saito had seen the last Pathfinder with his own eyes. He had been there during the final battle in China. The memories of Hattori confirmed that. “Then you know I tell the truth. You know how serious this is. You must unleash the Iron Guard!”
“There is much you will never understand. There was much that Okubo failed to understand as well. You have a few things in common with your father after all.”
“It is coming!” Toru shouted.
Saito chuckled as he made a subtle motion with his fingertips. “Foolish Toru… It is already here.”
There was a flash of red. The mirror exploded.
The Grimnoir knights were clustered around the floating sphere. None of them could believe their eyes. They’d done as Buckminster Fuller had instructed, carving corrections onto the magical sphere until Fuller was satisfied that every mistake had been corrected. At first Sullivan thought they’d accidentally broken the gizmo worse, but Fuller assured them that this was the right setting. They were seeing the truth.
There were tiny red dots spread across much of Asia.
Ian Wright reached out one hand toward the sphere, but then snatched it back, almost as if the stains burned. “I know some of these places. I know this one for sure.”
“Imperium schools,” Heinrich muttered. “These are all the places where Unit 731 conducts its experiments on Actives.”
There were dozens of them, spreading like the lung cancers that Jane kept warning him about because of his smoking. The Healer would surely call this advanced. “The Pathfinder’s already inside the Imperium…”
“Sullivan!” The shout tore his attention away from the floating globe. Toru was limping down the hall, his heavy coat shredded, leaving a trail of blood behind him. “There is danger.”
“What happened to you?”
Toru stopped, surveying the globe. He took in the red splotches without comment. “There is something here with us. Gather your men.” There were shiny bits embedded in his face. Glass. It took a moment for Sullivan to realize that the hand pressed to Toru’s side was actually holding his guts in. The former Iron Guard grimaced. “There is little time.”
Anything that could tear up a Brute like Toru was not to be trifled with. “You heard the man,” he snapped. “Prepare to move out.” The knights were efficient and smart enough not to argue. The Grimnoir were a loose organization, yet they had the functional equivalent to NCOs. These men, like Diamond and Heinrich, began shouting orders. The gathered Imperium papers were hastily shoved into backpacks, and weapons were readied. Schirmer moved to the ring of salt. Sullivan took one last look through it. “We’ve got to go, Fuller. Tell the Captain about what we just saw and have him contact Browning.”
“I shall. Good luck, Mr. Sull—” but then Schirmer smashed the salt with a rifle butt and it crumbled into glowing bits. Sullivan felt the Power shift inside his chest as he regained that small bit back.
Toru coughed blood, but when somebody had as many Healing spells on them as Sullivan or Toru did, you either killed them outright or not at all. “I do not know what it is. It came through a mirror.”
“You gonna make it?” Sullivan asked. Toru removed his hand and displayed his wounded side. The claw marks made it look like he’d been mangled by a piece of farm equipment. Any other man there would’ve been dead on the spot, but his Healing kanji were burning so hard that standing next to Toru felt like standing next to a radiator. “Damn…”
“I will live.”
The Mouth, Genesse, came running up. “The Traveler is on the way. Southunder’s ended the storm. It looks clear.”
Sullivan looked at Toru. Anything that could overwhelm a Brute like that wasn’t to be underestimated. “We better off fighting this thing in here, or out there?”
“It was faster than me.”
Sullivan gave the order to move out.
The knights were quick on their feet. It only took a minute to get everyone off the lower floor. As they passed the men holding the choke points against the remaining Imperium, they’d gather those silently and move away, leaving the soldiers holed up against nothing. If they played this right, they’d be long gone by the time the Japanese mounted a counterattack.
Sullivan led the way up the stairs, Browning’s bullpup automatic rifle in his big hands. He already knew that he’d get them to the entrance, and then hold it until everyone else had made it out and been accounted for. Once a leader of men, always a leader of men, and the habits he’d formed during the Great War had come back fast. Or maybe they’d never really left at all.
Whatever had attacked Toru hadn’t made a move against the rest of them yet. Sullivan’s eyes darted back and forth, checking every corner for threats. It kept his mind occupied enough to not dwell on the thought that not only was the Pathfinder already here, but also it was somehow already spread throughout the entire Imperium with nobody knowing. Survive first, deal with that later.
He froze when he saw the footprint made of blood. “What the hell?” It might not have gotten his attention if it had been shaped like a human’s, but this one was all twisted up and wrong. Sullivan held up one hand to stop the line of knights. He glanced back and spotted Ian Wright, and signaled for the Summoner to come forward. Pointing at the blood, Sullivan asked, “One of yours?”