My retelling of Gasaraki

[PeterEliot]

I have planned the following story as a 25-part retelling of the entire series. Some details may differ from the TV version, but overall it is a faithful adaptation. Needless to say the story is full of spoilers and should only be read by those who have watched the TV series.

Now I know there is a perfectly good fanfic forum here for this sort of activity. I posted the first three chapters in that forum and got no response whatever. Hardly anyone seems to read the story, maybe because there aren't that many Gasaraki fans there. I am putting considerable effort into this project--I expect it to be no less than 100,000 words, and probably more, when it is done. So I am posting the story here, hoping some of you may enjoy it; else it would be pointless to write it.

I don't know whether this constitutes a T.O.S. violation or not. But at any rate I ask you to regard this topic like any other on this forum--a thread begun by someone who enjoyed Gasaraki and wanted to say something about it. And since it is a public thread, you are of course welcome to post your thoughts at any point. In fact I would love to hear from you.

Thanks. I hope you like the story.

-Eliot

[PeterEliot]

GASARAKI, A Modern Myth



With this path I take
In testament to the very kai I house within
I stamp my foot loud upon this stage of cold
hard stone.



Stave I. The Gowas



The history I am about to relate is all quite true. I have fabricated nothing, and where any specifics are outside my knowledge I will admit ignorance and hold my silence. I have nevertheless given it the name myth, and have rendered it in a form befitting a myth, not because it is untrue but because I know it will not survive otherwise. For it is quite a fantastic story. Insistence on its historicity will only encourage its dismissal. If it is to endure in the hearts of men, who often prefer fascinating fiction to drab truth, it must be told and remembered as a myth. Else it may not be remembered at all and I should be very sorry to see it forgotten.

The family of Gowa comes from an ancient lineage in the country of Japan, where folks put the surname before the given name and practice a thousand cults they don’t really believe in anymore. The Gowas had long been a powerful clan, and as influential families go they were one of the greatest in all of Japan. They were well known as a financial titan and as a patron of studies and research. Conservative to the core and yet always at the forefront of technical advancement, they seemed to represent that quintessential mix of tradition and modernity which defines their nation. The family acted under the discipline of well-ordered hierarchy, with old Daizaburo as the patriarch. Gowa Daizaburo had five children. The eldest was the aloof and charismatic Kazukiyo who oversaw his father’s estate. The second was Kiyotsugu, an accomplished scientist. The third was Kiyoharu, who for his diplomatic talent was given the task of speaking to the rest of the world on behalf of the Gowa family.

The two youngest Gowa siblings had not yet reached the prestige of their elders in family operations. These were Yushiro, a quiet young man of seventeen whom we will be following closely, and Misuzu, the sole daughter and at fourteen still only a girl. But Yushiro from childhood had been trained in the way of a peculiar family tradition—peculiar because he alone was chosen among all his family for its observance. This was the art of Noh, a traditional dance of Japan. Now Noh can be as much a ritual as a dance. And like most rituals it has its share of the odd and the bizarre. The performer dons a loose garment, almost priestly in form, and a mask of grotesque appearance which obscures the face entirely. The dance itself is slow and deliberate and accompanied by chants, and achieves an ecstatic climax by carefully measured degrees; there is very little spontaneity about the whole affair. Master Sorachi, whose family had long been retainers in the service of the Gowas, was charged with imparting the art to the boy. And on the day we open our story, the leading men of the Gowa clan gathered at the family shrine deep in the mountains of Kinashi, to see young Gowa Yushiro perform the ceremonial dance of Gasara.



* * * *



Kinashi was an old Gowa property and barred to outsiders. On this day the security round the mountains was especially forbidding. The normally quiet forests stirred with activities of the oddest sort. The presence of chanters in traditional Noh garbs was easily explainable. But most of the men that filled the waterside clearing by the shrine seemed to bear no relation at all to the impending rite. They were busy setting up all manners of equipment decidedly modern in character: cameras, radio antennae, satellite devices, and small and large monitors beyond counting, all hooked together by heaps of cables. A natural stage of stone extended over the waters, illuminated by torch staffs. The chanters sat silently by awaiting the hour. At this scene Gowa Daizaburo arrived with his eldest Kazukiyo when the afternoon began to turn golden. Kiyotsugu was already there overseeing the technical setup. He led his father and brother into a vehicle filled with like equipments.

‘From here we will be able to monitor everything,’ Kiyotsugu told them, pointing to the screens lined up along the wall. ‘I have been going over his data the company has compiled for us. He has shown some astounding growth since he began operating the armor.’

‘Do you think we will succeed this evening?’ asked Kazukiyo.

‘At the very least I am certain we will get much closer than the last attempt. Look at this.’ Kiyotsugu opened a booklet full of charts. ‘Eight times he achieved under duress an abnormal burst of mental activity while inside the armor. The phenomena exhibited patterns all but identical to the trance we observed before.’

‘It has been long and burdensome eight years,’ Daizaburo noted gravely. ‘We learn tonight whether they were in vain. A repeat of the mistake is unacceptable.’

‘Still we must be prepared for any outcome,’ Kazukiyo said, turning to his brother. ‘Remember that in the event of failure collection of data has priority over all—over even the performer.’



* * * *



In the tent prepared next to the stage Yushiro sat in full ceremonial attire, contemplating the mirror. Misuzu was with him and growing anxious; he had not spoken or moved for a long while. Hidden behind the mask her brother was quite unrecognizable.

‘Dear elder brother,’ said she (it was the proper old way of addressing an older sibling, and she was a very proper young lady), ‘everyone is acting strange. And you are, too. What is all this hustle and bustle about? No one will tell me, not even Master Sorachi.’

‘Misuzu, the performer is not to be spoken to,’ admonished her mother. She had been assisting the boy with dress.

‘The performance hasn’t begun yet,’ the girl returned.

‘The preparation is a part of the ceremony also. Do not disturb him until he has taken off his mask.’

So saying, Madam Gowa took her daughter’s arm and exited the tent. Yushiro remained before the mirror until he heard the chanters’ first call. Then he rose, took the ceremonial fan and joined them on the stage of stone.

Gowa Kazukiyo accosted Master Sorachi shortly before commencement. ‘Will he be able to perform the ancient rite correctly, Sorachi Kengyou?’ he asked.

‘There is no need for concern. The dance of Gasara grants the kai his identity as such. You know this.’

‘That’s right. That is how it should be. Only remember: should the dance fail, one of the puppeteers you call kugutsu will forever be lost.’

Kazukiyo left the old master to rejoin his family in the car. Then the attendants began to chant in earnest to the drum’s beat, and Yushiro took to the center of the stage.



* * * *



At that very hour, far out in a desert at nearly the opposite end of the globe, there sat another gathering of men huddled in a room not unlike Kiyotsugu’s car. The air was tense, and the men’s looks uneasy. They faced an emergency they had not seen before.

‘Do you mean to say someone else is attempting contact?’ asked the group’s overseer.

‘That is the only explanation,’ came the answer.

‘Hurry with the procedure. We must not let them beat us to the goal.’

‘We can’t, sir,’ one of the men said, pointing to his screen. ‘The subject has withdrawn on her own. She is not responding to our call.’

‘What is causing it?’

‘Unknown, sir. She just will not let us in.’

The overseer looked into the adjoining chamber where the slim bare figure of a young woman lay wrapped as a cocoon.

‘She may be attempting fusion with another invitator. We must regain control over the subject quickly.’

‘Maximum dose of the drug has already been administered, but she shows no sign of returning. We may injure her if we continue.’

‘Reduce her oxygen supply if you must. Just pull her out of the trance.’



* * * *



Yushiro was dancing. Though the chanters were now quite loud their voices had long since faded to silence in his ears, and he could no longer hear his own steps. Only his heartbeats provided any sense of time. He felt his limbs moving of their own accord, and thought his body would go on dancing the dance of Gasara if he closed his eyes and went to sleep on his feet. The world was but a small window of colors through the mask’s eyes. And then even that was snuffed out, and all was blackness. He stood alone in a great void. He started then. There was another in the void with him.

Daizaburo, Kazukiyo, and Kiyotsugu watched the performance transfixed. Kiyotsugu especially was excited, reading aloud the multitude of screens for the others. ‘His brainwave is shifting. He is approaching the threshold rapidly. I think he really will do it.’

Yushiro regarded the figure erect before him. She wore a robe the color of cherry and a Noh mask of blanched appearance. Calmly she took a sheathed knife from her sleeve, and cut across the smooth wave of hair that reached down to the waist. Then she charged forward, stabbing at him. He moved out of the knife’s way. He did not comprehend her hostility but neither did he question it. Wordlessly they continued the exchange of thrust and evasion. The dance seemed to have become for two.

She dropped the knife and lunged at him. Her fingers locked round his neck, tightening. They struggled against each other. She was not as strong as he, but somehow he felt compelled not to be violent with her.

Suddenly the woman flinched and released her grip. She hugged herself, crouching, and shivered. Almost involuntarily she stepped backward, as if jerked by a chain. A cave of blinding white opened behind her, and she began to be drawn into it. She resisted—but she was like a raft in a maelstrom, helpless against the current.

A crack ran down her mask. It shattered, and revealed to Yushiro the face of a young woman no older than himself. Fighting to shake free of the pull, she reached out for him. ‘Don’t,’ she cried. ‘Don’t bring back the terror.’ Then she disappeared into the light, and the void closed upon it.

‘We are nearing the final phase,’ Kiyotsugu said to the rest. ‘I am seeing the very pattern we saw eight years ago, but in a scale incomparably larger. We have done it.’

‘A singularity is emerging at the center of the field,’ one of the men informed them. ‘It is enlarging—rapidly.’

‘At last,’ muttered Gowa Daizaburo, with the half-fearful reverence of a man who stood at the brink of a dream too long denied and too taxing to sustain.

As the observers looked on riveted a pillar of shimmery air, colossal and piercing, materialized in the night sky. It fell upon the stage before Yushiro’s solitary figure, whose arm was raised to the heaven as though in greeting. A crimson cluster of light hovered at the peak. Slowly it descended along the stream. The stage, bathed in red, began to tremble. A mighty clap rang out across the clearing. The pillar had stamped its mark upon the stage, cutting into the stone. Then came another clap, and another. Kazukiyo rose from the seat, abandoning his usual calm. ‘It’s going to happen. At last!’

The cluster shifted in hues—now blue, now yellow and orange, and now like a bundled rainbow, vibrant, tremulous. And standing bared to its splendor, Yushiro was thinking of the girl’s plea.

‘Don’t bring back the terror.’

Yushiro lowered his arm. His feet stilled. The chant went on, and the drum’s sharp beat continued, but he was dancing no longer.

‘What happened?’ Kazukiyo cried to his brother, who was as nonplused as he. ‘Why did he stop?’

‘His brainwave... heartbeat... they are settling back to the normal. He simply stopped.’

‘Impossible,’ said Daizaburo. ‘Once in trance the performer cannot stop of his own will.’

‘Dance, Yushiro,’ Kazukiyo called out none too gently. ‘Continue and finish the rite.’

Yushiro took the mask off his face. He addressed the fluttering light before him: ‘Go back.’

The colors lifted and scattered. Like smoke released it faded into the air. The chant ceased. All regarded the lone youth on the stage, not daring to break the silence that suddenly took hold of the place.

Daizaburo sighed heavily. ‘We have failed again.’

‘But how did he...?’ Kiyotsugu stuttered, uncomprehending. ‘How did he...?’

Without another word Yushiro retired to the tent. He left the mask lying on the stage.



* * * *



A brief mention of an incident quite far removed from Mount Kinashi, and we have done with this prelude. On the same day as the Gowas’ unsuccessful rite, an American spy satellite observed what seemed a massive explosion in the Middle East. The opalescent ball of fire was photographed over a remote unpopulated region of the nation of Belgistan. The United States intelligence determined it to be an illicit experimentation of a weapon of mass destruction, and presently embarked upon a course of action which became the seed of much that we are about to see.





-End of Stave I-

[PeterEliot]

Yesterday, today,
Even tomorrow—
The life I knew never seemed solid,
Forever nebulous and uncertain
Like a silhouette projected upon mist,
But a new wind blows through, clearing the mist.
Forever present,
The dark murky abyss below is swept by wind
Babbling waters echo; the introductory dance begins



Stave II. Mystery of the Armor



The tactical armor was a contraption unlike any other in the long annuls of weaponry. Its making was a matter of utmost secrecy, so that though the military was the weapon’s official sponsor only a few in its ranks were at all aware of its existence until the unveiling. No small part of that elite coterie were members of Gowa family. For it was the Gowa’s craftsmanship that made the machine possible. Gowa was in fact in complete charge of its experimentation and production; the military was merely the customer.

What was the tactical armor? In the boastful words of Kiyotsugu, who took vital part in its development, it was the closest thing to a living being man had put together. A bipedal machine fashioned after the human form, it also made use of much the same manner of musculature. It was much larger than a person—three times as tall and coated all around with shell resistant plates; hence the name. In looks it was domineering but supremely awkward: a busy enormous heap of moving parts, their motions jerky and graceless, so that seeing it walk you might have been reminded less of a person and more of a two-legged insect, if such a thing existed.

The purpose of a tactical armor was like that of any armor, that is, protection of the combatant within. Encased in multiple layers of metal the pilot could brave hazards unthinkable for foot soldiers and negotiate terrains that would challenge the sturdiest of wheeled vehicles. Still it must not be assumed that the pilot had anything like an easy time inside the armor. Operating it was a horribly complicated and taxing affair. It meant suspending nearly all of one’s natural senses and adapting to the body of a giant weighing many tons. The pilot was wholly dependent on the machine for all incoming information. There was not even a window for looking: optic sensors provided visuals in place of his eyes. He heard nothing which the amplifiers onboard did not relay. The cockpit was no more than a man-shaped nook carved into the armor’s backside, into which the pilot fairly squeezed himself. Once the hatch closed shut he had about as much mobility of his own as a victim bound to a rack. If he should grow an itchy spot he was at the mercy of his own tolerance until manually relieved from the confines. An hour inside the metal trap was enough to test the sanity of a novice and the endurance of an expert. Not infrequently pilots emerged from the machines a few pounds lighter than they were going into it.

For these reasons every tactical armor was assigned a minimum of two operators, one inside the vehicle and another monitoring from the command base. This latter, in addition to observing the armor’s performance, took minute notes of the pilot’s vitals—his brain activity, pulse rate, responsiveness and panic level. The armor carried an array of compounds designed to boost the operator’s responsiveness and to combat fatigue and panic. These drugs the monitor administered by remote control as the vital statistics warranted. Breakdown, both of the machine and of the pilot, was always an eminent possibility. Consequently the armors were deployed in squads, and never alone. That this strange weapon and its operation involved very daunting setups indeed is, I hope, clear now.

The armor was six years in the making. It was not ready for implementation until a year prior to the events of the past chapter. Only then was a prototype handed over to the military for training of a unit which would specialize in its operation. That was the beginning of the tactical armor company. The experimental company was small, with only a single squad of armors. The youthful Lieutenant Colonel Hayakawa was put in command. Under him served a select personnel of pilots and monitors drawn from the best of the military stock.

On his first day of duty as the unit commander the colonel learned a surprising bit of news. He had been aware that most of the mechanics in the company would be provided by Gowa. This was understandable; Gowa had built the machines with little outside help, and the army as yet did not possess mechanics knowledgeable in their maintenance. But on this day Gowa was informing him that it would loan the company, in addition to mechanics, a pilot as well. The generals overseeing the project had already approved the offer. Strangely they had mounted no objection to a civilian being assigned to what was at core a combat post. Looking over the transferee’s personnel information Colonel Hayakawa was surprised yet again. The pilot was not yet even an adult by law, a boy of mere sixteen. His name was Gowa Yushiro.


* * * *


But for now let us return to the present—to a few days following the curious ceremony at Kinashi. Gowa Daizaburo and his sons Kazukiyo and Kiyotsugu were discussing the findings of that dramatic evening. Kiyotsugu, the scientist, was obliged to explain the records to the others.

‘These graphs indicate the transitional patterns of energy readings during the contact,’ he said. ‘If the patterns mean anything there was a ninety percent chance that the final stage would have been reached.’

‘If he had continued the dance,’ Kazukiyo said.

‘If he had continued the dance,’ Kiyotsugu confirmed. ‘Yet even with how far he got, the readings were enormous. There was enough to match the output of a power plant.’

‘We were almost there,’ the father said. ‘And how has Yushiro been since?’

‘He will not say anything. He has secluded himself in his room.’ Kazukiyo turned to his brother. ‘Are you certain he stopped the experiment on his own?’

‘If you mean whether he stopped voluntarily, there is no question. But there is one thing that bothers me.’

‘What is it?’

‘Take note of his brainwave here. Several times a recurring pattern interrupts the trance. Then the interruption is gone completely, and minutes afterwards Yushiro terminated the contact.’

‘Make us understand, Kiyotsugu.’

‘It is as if something—external—was distracting him during the trance. Suppose that you were intensely absorbed in some activity, and someone kept calling you aside, breaking your concentration. This is the sort of reaction I would expect in such a situation.’

‘Are you saying someone interfered with the experiment from outside?’ Daizaburo asked.

‘From the appearance of things, Father.’

‘Ah, I’m glad you are all here,’ Kiyoharu, the third brother, said to the gathering as he entered the room. ‘I have news I am anxious to share with you.’

‘Are you coming from the base?’ asked his father.

‘Yes, sir. I have been reading the data you have sent me on the way. I am sorry that I missed the ceremony. Even for a failure it sounds to have been a spectacle.’

‘You should have seen it,’ Kiyotsugu said.

‘You said you wanted to talk about the affairs in Belgistan?’ Kazukiyo said.

‘Yes. I suspect you are not terribly well informed about the last forty-eight hours?’

‘Yushiro’s data has been keeping me busy. I haven’t paid attention to news,’ Kiyotsugu said. ‘What happened?’

Kiyoharu took a seat. ‘Let me go over it quickly. You know that America gave Colonel Stilbanov of Belgistan an ultimatum to comply with inspection for the alleged experimentation of a weapon of mass destruction, whose exact nature has yet to be specified. That was on Wednesday. Stilbanov of course ignored the ultimatum. The military retaliation launched as promised on Friday morning, with an air raid against Belgistan’s radar installations. The raid was carried out mostly by German bombers. Now the Americans secured NATO’s compliance by promising that direct land assault would primarily be the task of the United States.’

‘Yes, and I believe the Americans went in last night?’ Daizaburo said.

‘They did. The first assault columns encountered resistance in the desert about four hours ago. They suffered massive loss and were forced to retreat. The news is not yet public, but very soon it will be.’

‘Is that right?’ Kazukiyo said, showing interest for the first time. ‘What did the Belgistan forces have to repel the Americans?’

‘That is what I wanted to talk about.’ Kiyoharu handed a disc to Kiyotsugu, who inserted it into his computer. ‘This is a footage taken from an attack helicopter, which was escorting the tank column when it entered a small town.’

‘What is this?’ asked Kazukiyo as a white line streaked across the blurry screen, striking a vehicle at the head of the column. Another streak soon followed, and the next tank was in scraps.

‘High velocity guided missiles, made specifically to pierce armor,’ Kiyoharu replied. ‘It took only a hit to disable each vehicle completely.’

‘Since when did Stilbanov have weapons like this?’

‘The missiles are intriguing, but I am more interested in the way they were deployed. The missiles hit the column the moment they were inside the town. They came from rooftops at close range, and the points of origin shifted from building to building to check the tanks’ movements, as though they were being fired by infantrymen—which is ludicrous when you consider the size of these things. These aren’t some handheld grenade launchers, you know. Ah, see there,’ he said, pointing to the screen as it went black. ‘At this point the helicopter was shot down.’

The men were quiet for a minute. ‘And what do you gather from this, Kiyoharu?’ Daizaburo said.

‘I think his point is pretty clear,’ Kiyotsugu replied in his brother’s stead. ‘We know of only one weapon suited to this type of offensive.’

‘What is Yushiro’s condition now?’ Kazukiyo asked Kiyotsugu.

‘Physiologically he is almost completely back to normal. He can’t dance yet—but I think he can handle an armor just fine.’


* * * *

Misuzu’s patience was running thin. In two days she had not seen Yushiro’s face though he was all along under the same roof. He was her favorite, for the rest of the Gowa brothers were more than a decade her senior and might as well have been her uncles. From her youngest days she had played with Yushiro and was close with him especially. And the boy had not come out of his room for days. So after returning home from school (she attended a girls’ school, unlike Yushiro who studied with tutors at home), Misuzu stood before her brother’s door to pay him a visit. She had not quite announced herself when one of the house attendants interrupted her.

‘Miss, I believe you have been instructed not to enter.’

And she had been. At first she thought she would head back to her room, but then she was annoyed with the attendant for having caught her when she had tried to visit in secret. ‘Is there something wrong with a sister wanting to speak with her brother?’ said she sternly. ‘Give us a few minutes, and I’ll be on my way.’

The attendant bowed and departed. ‘Big brother, it’s me,’ said Misuzu to the door. ‘You are not seeing anyone, I know, but there is something I must ask you. Please allow me to enter.’

Yushiro’s room was spacious but sparsely furnished, as is the convention in patrician households. An untouched table of meal lay pushed to a corner, and the occupant of the room was leaning against a post looking upon the inner court. For in Japan and elsewhere in Asia traditional mansions often have doors and hallways on both sides of rooms.

‘Brother, what is happening? Why are Father and the other brothers doing this?’ Misuzu asked, sounding more frustrated than she had meant to let on. ‘What happened on the stage, the other day? Mother made me stay with her in the dressing room, so I could not see anything. And yet—and yet, I felt something unusual was happening. I felt it. But no one will tell me anything. Not Mother, not Master Sorachi. And Kazukiyo tells me I should not come here.’

Yushiro made no reply but continued to fix his gaze on the pond outside. She grew angry, though not with her brother.

‘I can’t stand this. Why is everyone treating you this way? Since when did they start acting so indifferent to you? No, indifferent is not the word. They are interested in you—very much. But I can’t believe that they care about you. But why? Why do you alone get sent to work with the defense force and made to dance Noh under watch? Why can’t I recall anyone saying kind words to you, when you finally came back home?’

‘We were,’ Yushiro started abruptly, speaking more to himself, looking at the hand that had wrestled with the girl in the vision. ‘We were calling out to something—to come. I wonder what it was.’ He flinched and staggered, as though stabbed. He saw her again, crying out to him.

‘Don’t bring back the terror.’

Her face was so vivid that it did not seem a mere memory. Her eyes were dark and clear as a moonlit night sky, and wide with urgency. A spell of acute dizziness came upon him then, and in the haze of pain he fancied he saw an image altogether novel yet: the same young woman, still and naked, suspended and enfolded amidst clinging bands of white like a moth caught in a web. In alarm Misuzu ran to his side as he struggled to remain on his feet.

‘What is it, elder brother? Is it something to do what has been happening? Please, you mustn’t keep it all to yourself!’

‘What are you doing here, Misuzu?’ asked Madam Gowa from the doorway. ‘You were told not to come here.’

‘I was only—’

‘Yushiro hasn’t been very well. Come now; do not bother him.’

Misuzu obeyed her mother. And there ended the brief interview which left the girl in greater distress than before.


* * * *


With the armor we opened the stave, and with it we now close. That evening Kiyoharu came to the Gowa mansion, and early in the following morning Yushiro accompanied him by air to an army training facility in the far periphery. There before an audience of distinguished members of the military he participated in the demonstration of the tactical armor, where he and the other pilots proved its agility and combat capacity superior to those of tanks in a mock battle. The observers’ delight turned to worry when Kiyoharu, after the demonstration, informed them of the likelihood that Belgistan army also was outfitted with weapons of like capabilities. For Japan had already been committed to sending a substantial ground force to Belgistan as a part of the multinational endeavor at the request of the United States. What should happen if her troops were humiliated as the Americans had been?

The observers came to the conclusion that since the tactical armor was clearly ready for use it had better be put to use immediately. Thus it was decided that the experimental company would be dispatched to the Middle East. The Gowa conglomerate lost no time in giving the decision its endorsement, and a promise of full cooperation.




-End of Stave II-

[PeterEliot]

The field of battle awaits me
What that will mean to me, I do not know
I should lie if I said I felt no uneasiness
Rain and winds and all,
The weather wheel foretells the times ahead
Seeking my fate, I listen to it spin with a lonely heart



Stave III. Some Noteworthy Conversations



The home facility of the tactical armor company was located in the unpopulated
wilderness of the north, where the metallic behemoths could operate on the
field without terrifying local residents. The training was constant and entry
access was limited to the base personnel, so that those stationed here had to
get used to seeing the same faces and no others for months at a time.
Let us now take a peek into the past, to a cold and gray afternoon when there
was little training scheduled at the base because the company faced imminent
mobilization. Let us go to the headquarter control room where most of the core
personnel of the company were gathered. A brief introduction is in order since
we will be seeing much of these soldiers. Lieutenant Colonel Hayakawa has
already been introduced as the unit commander. Captain Tokudaiji was the
oldest as well as the largest in the group, and in charge of monitoring and
relaying information. Captain Kaburagi, a proper articulate young woman from
a traditionally military family, was also a monitor aiding the control of
armors. She was one of the two female monitors along with Lieutenant Murai--
a shy modest person of girlish appearance and demeanor, and at only twenty the
youngest person in the room. That leaves the two armor pilots. Captain
Kitazawa was a young man with sharp eyes and a sharper temper. Major Takayama
had a rounded face and looked like someone you would not mind having for an
older brother. Two members were notably absent: Captain Ataka, the lone female
pilot, and Gowa Yushiro, also a pilot. They were in the hangar readying their
armors for storage and transportation.

‘So are they going to dispatch us?’ asked Captain Tokudaiji, the head monitor,
sipping hot coffee. With the day’s short schedule all but over, the gathering
was less a military meeting and more a chat. ‘We’ve been on standby to take
off at a moment’s notice. But will the notice come?’

‘Nothing has been finalized yet,’ answered Colonel Hayakawa. ‘The overall
sentiment is in favor of deployment, but there seems to be resistance from some
of the cabinet members. We will likely remain on standby for a few days.’

‘It’s the constitution,’ added Captain Kaburagi. ‘All forces deployed overseas
must have the approval of the Security Council. The council has only
marginally approved Japan’s involvement in Belgistan, and our unit was not
included in the original draft of the deployment plan.’

‘We are only a few people. Need they bother the cabinet just to get permission
to squeeze in an extra platoon?’ Captain Kitazawa said.

‘True, it would be ridiculous to get the cabinet involved if this were just
another ground unit,’ Tokudaiji replied. ‘It looks like our demonstration last
week has got the higher-ups excited. Everyone is talking about the armor all
of a sudden. Some of them are worried about what might go wrong with it.’

‘One thing is for sure. Tactical armor is no longer a secret,’ Kitazawa said.
‘One way or another it’s going to be famous and very soon. I’d rather have it
be for victory on the field.’

‘How do you think it will turn out, colonel?’ Lieutenant Murai asked.

‘I hear Colonel Hirokawa is lobbying the prime minister to allow deployment
personally. Knowing him, I won’t be surprised if he finds a way around the
cabinet--even around the minister of justice, who I understand is the loudest
critic of the proposal.’

‘It isn’t just the tactical armor that old man doesn’t like. From the
beginning he was against sending anything at all to Belgistan,’ Kitazawa said.

‘Sir,’ Captain Kaburagi began, cautiously, ‘In the event of overseas deployment,
will Captain Gowa accompany us to Belgistan?’

‘I imagine that would be the case.’

‘I think that would be very unwise, sir.’

The colonel did not say anything. He anticipated her reasons; he had himself
thought of them.

She went on: ‘His civilian presence was allowed because Gowa was responsible for
the development of the armors. But the development phase is by and large over.
Belgistan will not be a demonstration, but a combat operation.’

‘Gowa thinks differently,’ the colonel replied.

‘The captain does?’ said Murai.

‘I meant the corporate Gowa.’

Tokudaiji frowned. ‘So Gowa wants the boy to go, is that right? Sometimes I
wonder who we work for, the defense force or Gowa.’

‘If we do see combat in Belgistan,’ Murai said, ‘we may need Yushiro’s help more
than ever.’

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Kitazawa said with a flip of his hand.

‘It isn’t a matter of his being useful or not,’ contended Kaburagi. ‘He is a
civilian. We will make him a combatant if we allow him on the battlefield.’

‘Of course he is a combatant,’ Tokudaiji said. ‘In fact he is the most skilled
combatant we have--in an armor anyhow. I don’t know what that boy has got, but
he is just better tuned for the machine. At first I thought it was because he
had insider experience. But once we started training pilots of our own I had to
admit he had a natural bent that no amount of experience could account for.’

‘That is beside the point, Captain Tokudaiji,’ said Kaburagi. ‘His involvement
was always understood to be limited to development and training aspects of the
project. But even then the situation was quite awkward. We made a civilian who
wasn’t old enough to drive a car operate a combat vehicle, issued him a sidearm
when the law would not let him own even a hunting rifle, and gave him access to
equipments and information that were kept secret from other military personnel.
For appearance’s sake we gave him the rank of captain when he was never a cadet
or a private. Now we are about to take him to a hostile territory.’

‘I am aware of this quandary, captain. I think all of us are,’ replied the
colonel. ‘But Captain Gowa’s participation in the program has been sanctioned
by the defense force. Nor is he here against his will. Be assured that I have
voiced and will voice these concerns. But in the end whatever orders are handed
down I must follow.’

There was a knock then, and Yushiro and Captain Ataka entered. If the boy
noticed the unusual silence of the group he did not betray it.

‘The loading is complete, sir,’ Captain Ataka informed the colonel.

‘Good work. Well then, you are all free for the rest of the day. Do not leave
the base, however.’

‘Sir, I have received my father’s summon. A driver is here already,’ Yushiro
said.

‘So I was told. Your leave is granted. We will notify Gowa when a decision has
been reached regarding overseas deployment.’

‘Though Gowa will probably know about it before we do,’ muttered Kitazawa after
Yushiro left the room.


* * * * * * * * * *


The next conversation I want us to overhear took place nearly at the same time,
in the office of the prime minister of Japan which is the highest political
office in that nation. It involved two members of the military and the prime
minister himself. One of the soldiers was Colonel Hirokawa whose name you have
heard mentioned in the previous talk.

‘I apologize for making you wait. A most unfortunate occurrence required my
attention on my way here,’ began the prime minister as he settled tiredly into
his seat.

‘I have heard, sir. Mr. Kashiwada has passed on then?’ said Colonel Hirokawa.

‘I am afraid so--it was a horrific accident, and four others were killed
besides. Colonel, you said this meeting needs not be long, and you must
realize now that it cannot be long. In half an hour I am to announce the
formal appointment of the interim minister of justice.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Is the information regarding America’s predawn invasion tomorrow reliable?’

‘We are certain that it will begin within the next nineteen hours. Please have
a look at this.’ The colonel’s aide produced a black and white photograph from
his briefcase and placed it before the prime minister. ‘This is a reconnaissance
photo taken from above Kaha and obtained from the United States. Take note of
these large vehicles here. US intelligence dismisses them as ordinary trucks,
but according to the analysts of Section One Investigations Office they are
transports carrying enemy bipedal weapons. We believe that the invasion will
suffer the same result as that on Day One of the conflict. Now if we can have
our tactical armors ready and defeat the enemy where Americans have failed--’

The prime minister considered briefly, and the colonel was pleased to observe
that his mind had been made up coming into the room. ‘What do the analysts have
to say about America’s probable response to this deployment?’

‘The Americans mobilized their forces without waiting for the approval of the UN
Security Council. With the degree of unilateral enthusiasm they have already
exhibited in the face of much international criticism, I doubt they will have
the impertinence to meddle with our comparatively trivial departure from the
prescribed deployment plan.’

‘Let us do it then. For dispatching the tactical armors without the endorsement
of the council I will take responsibility.’


* * * * * * * * * *


We jump a few hours forward now to the Gowa mansion where Daizaburo and his sons
sat around a tea table.

‘No doubt about it,’ said Kazukiyo with a pleased smile as he lowered the report
he had been browsing. ‘The armor’s capacities are improving.’

‘But almost none of the fundamental problems have yet been resolved,’ said
Kiyotsugu. ‘We may have gotten better at using it, but we are not much closer
to understanding it than we were a year ago.’

‘By it I assume you mean Mile One,’ said Kiyoharu.

‘The adaptive artificial muscle structure of the armor, yes. We have long known
that it is an enormous collection of molecular motors, a compound molecule
composed of over a billion atoms. It holds an unimaginable amount of
information within it, but after all these years we still have not found a way
to unravel it for close analysis. Why does it respond to Yushiro only? And why
are changes we make to it reflected not only in his armor but in the others as
well?’

‘We are still far from successful replication then?’

‘I am afraid so. I have underestimated the complexity of the accursed thing.
Replicating a whole person could scarcely be harder.’

‘Tell me, Kiyotsugu,’ began Daizaburo, coming out of his silent reverie. ‘What
do you say of our chance of success?’

‘Truthfully, sir, next to nil. All samples we possess are incomplete and in a
state of decay. Where the information is missing we must guess; and the
structure is far too delicate to permit guesswork.’

‘You speak, as always, brother, from a scientist’s perspective,’ Kazukiyo,
leaning back into his chair. ‘You said it yourself. You are not content to be
able to use a thing; you must be able to understand it as well. I am not as
ambitious as you. If the thing will do its work, I do not question how it does
so. And I say Yushiro will do his work.’

‘Yushiro?’

‘Yes, Yushiro. Did you not just say you are in need of fresh, complete samples?
But a moment; that must be our little brother, I believe.’ Kazukiyo looked out
the window as a servant hurried to the gate where a car had pulled up. The
servant opened the door for the passenger, who indeed was Yushiro, and spoke to
him briefly. The boy nodded and headed, as instructed, for the tea room to meet
his elders. He bowed upon entering but did not take a seat.

‘Welcome home, Yushiro. Everything is all right at the base, I take it?’ said
Kiyoharu.

‘It is.’

‘We just learned that the overseas deployment of your unit has been finalized,’
Kazukiyo said. ‘You will most likely be leaving tomorrow morning.’

‘I understand,’ he replied after a moment’s silence, and was about to take his
leave.

‘Wait,’ called Kazukiyo. ‘Do you have nothing to say about it?’

‘No, nothing in particular.’

‘Stay here the rest of the day, son,’ spoke Daizaburo. ‘Your mother is making
dinner. We will eat together tonight.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Yushiro was going to his room, but changed direction for the garden when he saw
the figure by the pond. His sister stood before a pillar of stone not quite the
height of a grown man, which sported a heavy wheel at the top. Idly she turned
the wheel, contemplating the characters inscribed along its edge. She smiled in
greeting when she saw him approaching.

‘I suddenly realized how low the wheel is,’ said she. ‘Do you remember,
brother? When we were little, father had to lift us so we could spin it.’

‘The old weather wheel... Yes, I remember.’

‘Why don’t you spin it?’

Yushiro glanced at the heaven, which was golden and clear; quite unlike the
dreary countryside he had been hours prior. ‘I think it will be a fine day
tomorrow.’

‘Not for that. Remember? You used to think it foretold more than weather.
You used to spin it when you had a wish you wanted come true.’

At that he betrayed a small fond grin. ‘Do you have a wish you want come true,
Misuzu?’

Misuzu flushed, and turned very grave. She gazed away, speaking in a stifled
whisper. ‘I am afraid that if I say it, all will fall apart. If I name the
fear, it may become real.’ She looked up then, eyes wide and earnest. ‘Promise
me, brother, that you will be back! No matter where you go, no matter how far
away they send you--oh, how could they send you so far away, and to fight?--you
must come back to us safely. Promise me.’

Yushiro gripped the stone wheel, held its weight for a moment, and gave it a
strong spin downward. They were wordless as they listened to the heavy but
somehow soothing sound of the turning stone. When the wheel slowed to a stop,
Yushiro gave his sister a bright smile. ‘No need to worry,’ said he. ‘Even if
we go, my chances of seeing actual combat are low. Our priority is collecting
data after all.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘Very certain. Now, I am a little hungry. If mother doesn’t mind, I think I’ll
go to the kitchen and snitch a little of what she’s making before dinnertime.
Shall we go together?’





-End of Stave III-

[PeterEliot]

The guns have stopped
Winds blow across the barren earth
Unwarned I am held captive
My hands, my limbs, my thoughts,
Guided by forces irresistible,
Are made, helpless, to dance the Gasara
Hollowness of time--
Flowing about; but in its chasm something beckons
I see the mirage; and in its grip I,
No more than a puppet--
There is someone inside me I do not know


Stave IV. The Councilman's Dilemma


Symbol was a unique presence among the world's great conglomerates. It had its
formal beginning in Italy nearly eighty years prior to the events of this history,
but before its first decade was over it had branched out to nine sovereign nations
in three continents. By its twenty-fifth year it was the best affiliated firm in
the world, though not many knew this--heading an empire of partners and subsidiaries
under many different names, which at a glance seemed unconnected with the mother
company, involved in every manner of commerce throughout the globe. Its assets were
so well distributed across dozens of borders that when its home nation, no more than
a sentimental home by then, suffered the turmoil of waging, and losing, a world war,
Symbol managed not only to preserve its wealth but to profit from the conflict. For
it was the only corporation doing business, through a number of separate agencies,
with both sides of the war. Its vessels transported grains which fed in equal parts
Allied and Axis soldiers. It produced steel for the British and the Germans who
hurled the shells thus manufactured upon one another's soil. To many it allied
itself so that to none it may owe its allegiance. And as all duplicitous men must
be who wish to survive long, Symbol was exceedingly skilled at keeping its secrets
to itself. The few who understood its full capacities belonged in its ranks, though
not all who worked for it knew that they did.

The core agendas of Symbol were under the direction of a board of councilmen who
were almost as diverse in their national origin as the conglomerate itself. One
might think that so mixed a group could not maintain sound control over the vast
corporate community. But varied as they were the councilmen shared one thing in
common. They were all handpicked by the honorary chairman of the board, who was
either the grandson or the great grandson--the record is curiously confused on the
point--of the founder of Symbol. Now this chairman detested the public stage with a
singular passion. And since constant exposure on it was inevitable for one who
headed so prominent a group, he named the board Symbol's chief governing body and
took himself altogether out of the official hierarchy of the conglomerate--with one
reserved prerogative, by which he granted himself the sole authority to appoint, as
well as remove, any and every councilman serving on the board as he saw fit. Why
the board consented to such an obvious ploy for cloaked dictatorship, I do not know.
But it did consent, and now with that understanding we may proceed to the next part
of the story, which occurred in the private office of one of the councilmen, a
reticent gentleman by the name of D. H. Meth, on the morning of the tactical armor
company's arrival in Belgistan.

'Mr. Chairman,' he spoke into the speaker phone, 'I should like you to know, sir,
that the evacuation of the cross section experiment facilities is nearly complete.'

'What of the subject?' asked the chairman from the other end.

'She is still in the zone while we wait for her condition to stabilize. I am told
it will be a matter of hours only,' replied the Councilman Meth--for he was the
overseer of the unnamed procedure which had led to Yushiro's mysterious vision of
the young woman, and the 'subject' none other than the young woman herself.

'How did the Fakes do against the Americans?'

'Quite well, sir. They encountered the first American armored battalion in the
desert sixteen miles south of Kaha. Without much difficulty they disabled about
half of the vehicles and forced the rest to withdraw. I believe we are safe from
another direct ground assault for at least twenty-four hours.'

'They now have documented proofs of Fakes' existence and capability. The
multinational forces cannot be repelled much longer.'

'I am well aware. We will hasten the process to the utmost.'

'And Stilbanov?'

'He is certainly showing some dangerous signs. He is set to broadcast another
tirade of his at noon. The victories seem to have gone to his head.'

'It is to be expected. Keep me informed of all developments.'


* * * * * * * * * *


At that time Yushiro was over the skies of the central Asia, looking out the window
of an enormous military transport plane which carried his unit personnel as well as
the tactical armors. It was dark outside, and the barren wilderness below offered
hardly a sign of habitation. Major Takayama, a pilot, watched the pensive youth and
joined him at the window.

'That is where the Aral Sea once was,' said the major. 'It used to be a vast inland
sea. But people came in droves and turned it into a desert.'

'Ah,' said Yushiro, and no more.

'Listen, Yushiro--captain,' he stopped, catching himself.

'No, Yushiro is fine. And appropriate,' the boy said, for he was mindful, as was
the major, that he was almost young enough to be the other man's nephew. And the
major was himself not yet thirty.

'I am sorry about this, making you come along with us. They can fiddle with ranks
all they want, but that doesn't change that it is no duty of yours to be here. I
realize that you are not really one of us, not permanently. But I want you to trust
us on the field. We will make sure you return home unharmed no matter what.'

'Thank you, Major Takayama,' returned Yushiro. 'But please don't burden yourself
with concerns for me. I participate in this operation of my own will. Soldier or
not, if I am going to war I may not always expect others to come to my aid, nor
hinder them with my inexperience.'

Two hours later the plane landed at an airbase near the southern border of
Belgistan. It was under the control of the United States and served as the
headquarter for the multinational forces. The sun was high by then, drenching the
grassless earth with blinding light, and the chill of the night faded quickly.
Before the soldiers quite had a chance to familiarize themselves to the roasting
heat outside, a jeep pulled up next to the plane, and out stepped a Japanese
officer.

'Is this plane carrying the 3rd Experimental Company, SSDF Training Group?' asked
the officer, tanned from the sun. 'I have an instruction to meet with a Lieutenant
Colonel Hayakawa.'

'That would be me,' replied the colonel.

'Welcome to Belgistan, sir. I am Lieutenant Gowa Takeharu.'

'Gowa?'

'His cousin,' said the lieutenant, motioning with a smiling glance at the figure of
Yushiro who was just disembarking with the other pilots, his baggage slung over the
shoulder. 'Colonel, I am to escort you immediately to the acting commander of the
multinational forces.'

'Well, then,' the colonel said to his men, 'go ahead and get settled in while I
speak with the commander.'

'Another Gowa at our service, even out here,' muttered Captain Kitazawa as the jeep
sped away. 'Isn't that a coincidence.'

'Knock it off, Kitazawa,' admonished Takayama.

'Captain Gowa, your cousin didn't say hello to you,' said Lieutenant Murai to the
boy. He returned no answer. She was going to speak again but Captain Ataka stopped
her with a nudge of elbow.

'Looks like the colonel will be gone awhile. Let's get the equipments into the
base,' said she.

Talks of recent war development did not cease at the soldiers' lips as they paired
up to carry boxes loaded with paraphernalia into their designated office quarters.
For the Americans' failed attempt to push into the enemy capital had taken place
during their transcontinental flight, preventing them from learning anything beyond
the sketchiest updates given over the air. Everyone was anxious, now that they had
arrived at the scene of the news, to know how the situation stood--and what it meant
for them.

'The news wouldn't say more than that Belgistan forces used some radically new type
of ground weaponry,' remarked Kitazawa. 'Suppose the rumor's true after all that
they have got TA's of their own?'

'Belgistan could not possibly have developed the technology,' replied Lieutenant
Kaburagi. 'If they do in fact have such weapons, they came from a third party
backing up Stilbanov.'

'How bad did the Americans get beaten anyway?' Takayama wondered aloud. 'Must have
been pretty bad if they pulled back the other tank divisions too.'

'I hear the first column had to abandon half the vehicles.'

'Where did you hear that?' Kitazawa said.

'From an American mechanic. It seems to be a common news around here.'

'Well, I will be... Think they'll ask the Japanese forces to join the next attack
on Kaha?'

'Honestly? I would say the infantry is looking at tougher times ahead than us,'
Takayama said. 'We'll probably be put in the reserve force.'

'You figure they won't count us as a part of the main force?' asked Ataka.

Takayama shook his head. 'These NATO folk just learned about the TA's. No way they
will put them into action without even seeing them field tested. Six months ago I
would have thought the same.'

'But still this deployment is basically a demonstration of the armors, isn't it?'
cut in one of the junior technicians. 'Don't you think that makes front line
assignment at least a possibility?'

'That's right,' agreed Ataka. 'And let's not forget the rumor of the new enemy
weapons. If they are indeed tactical armors--as they say, "if you think there might
be a snake in the bush, send in your own snake."'

Captain Tokudaiji then appeared at the door. Catching the drift of the conversation
he offered, 'Don't get too excited just yet. If half of what I am hearing is
correct, UN may soon decide for a complete pullout.'

'What? Are you serious, sir?' cried the junior technician, whose name was Takashi.

Kaburagi frowned at the younger man. 'Don't sound so disappointed. Are you that
hard up for combat?'

'How sure are you of this, Tokudaiji?' asked Takayama.

'My sources tell me there is a special shuttle arriving tomorrow from Geneva,
crammed full of diplomats and moderates from the Security Council. UN never
particularly liked the American approach to the whole affair. Now that the
Americans have twice failed to push into Belgistan, everyone's getting worried the
war will be drawn out. And it wasn't a popular war to begin with.'

'And these diplomats are flying into a war zone to do what?' asked Ataka.

'I suspect they will offer Stilbanov an olive branch. They're probably thinking
letting him save face is the fastest course to a cease-fire. Either the colonel
takes the offer, or they go in for full-scale aerial strikes on Kaha.'

'Not bad from someone who got here an hour ago. Nothing gets by you, eh?' said
Takayama.

'Don't forget collection and analysis of information is a part of my duties.'

'There will be combat,' Yushiro said.

In surprise the company turned to the youth, who crouched off to a corner by himself
unloading a trunk full of mobile communications equipment. It was his first
unprompted speech since arriving at the base.

'Do you think so, Yushiro?' said Ataka.

'I am certain of it.'

A monitor on the wall emitted a low beep then, catching Lieutenant Murai's
attention. 'Oh?'

'What is it, Murai?'

'A new set of orders from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, sir.'

'Joint Chiefs?'

'It has been assigned a high security status. Only the colonel may open it with his
personal code.'

And that was when the jeep carrying Colonel Hayakawa, again riding with Lieutenant
Gowa, returned outside the unit quarters. The men exchanged salutes, and the
colonel was greeted by his men.

'Have the orders come in from the Joint Chiefs of Staff?' asked he.

'Yes, sir. Encrypted for your eyes only,' answered Takayama.

'That was quick. Everyone drop what you are doing and come with me. We have a
briefing to attend at 1600 hours.'

'What, already, sir?'

'Already, major. Let's get moving.'

'It's the strangest thing,' confessed the colonel later to Tokudaiji on their way to
the briefing. 'Gowa took me to meet Brigadier General Dole. The general already
knew more than a little about TA's--heard it from Gowa. (He sat there with us
through the interview, though I didn't know why at first.) I thought he was going
to put us in the next assault on Kaha. Instead he showed me a footage of some
ancient ruins far out in the desert. You remember that photograph of the explosion
that Stilbanov is supposedly responsible for? This was the site of the explosion,
the general said. An investigative team has been organized to inspect the site, and
he wants us to raid and secure it at dawn. I objected that it was far past any
friendly zones, and he assured me that satellites showed only a mechanized platoon
in the area, and the rest of the multinational forces will be commencing with the
next ground strike on Kaha at that time. That should keep the heat off our team, he
said. Gowa joined in and said the attack had already been approved by the Joint
Chiefs and the orders should be arriving soon. When I said I would prepare a
tactical plan, I was told that it is already in place, and the unit is to attend a
briefing immediately.'

'That explosion is what made the Americans go to war,' said Tokudaiji. 'Why would
they order a foreign unit to secure a site like that?'

'Your guess is as good as mine, captain.'

So it was that only twelve hours after disembarking the pilots found themselves
boarding another aircraft, one considerably smaller, that would take them deep
inside Belgistan.


* * * * * * * * * *


Kazukiyo entered the dark study and found the patriarch in his opulent reclining
chair, eyes closed and with a book resting on his lap. Above the fireplace the
television flashed with sound muted. 'Takeharu contacted me from Belgistan,' he
told his father. 'Dole has complied with the arrangement. The unit will be moving
into Shrine Hill shortly before noon here.'

Opening his eyes, Daizaburo regarded his eldest without turning. 'Kiyoharu and
Kiyotsugu?'

'They should be arriving any moment.'

'Does Yushiro know?'

'About them? No.'

'Kiyotsugu is quite certain about this discovery of his, yes?'

'Quite, father. I had him look into the explosion in Belgistan after I realized the
possibility that Stilbanov possesses TA's. He scoured through satellite networks
for every scrap of observed data on the site. He is confident that it is the
closest match outside Japan we have yet found to the stage of stone at Kinashi.'

Daizaburo turned to the television screen where the silent images of reporters,
soldiers and the desert alternated at intervals. 'The news people seem terribly
excited about the mystery weapon. They've been talking about little else for
hours.'

'Yes, Takeharu has mentioned that too. There is little doubt about it; Belgistan
forces are using tactical armors.'

'Of capabilities comparable to ours.'

'That we may be forced to discover before the unit returns home. At any rate the
site will be in our hands in a few hours.'

'"If a snake lies hidden in a bush, send in your own snake,"' Daizaburo recited the
old proverb. The television's glare lit his dismal countenance, an old stately face
thoroughly unaccustomed to smiling. 'Yet what if something more sinister than a
snake should emerge?'

'Sir, I look forward to that,' said Kazukiyo with a grin.


* * * * * * * * * *


The mission command post for the TA company was the interior of a flying helicopter
since the mission was to be carried out in the middle of hostile territory. Here
the colonel, along with Tokudaiji, Kaburagi and Murai sat before a panel of screens
which allowed them to monitor every movement of the armor units from safe altitude.

'The SB carrying Focus One through Four will reach the mission objective in four
minutes,' Tokudaiji informed the colonel. 'Sir, one thing has been bothering me.
If that explosion was the result of a weapon of mass destruction, shouldn't some
kind of decontamination measures be in order?'

'I have been told not to worry about residual contamination.'

'Now how can they just say that?'

'We can only hope the headquarter's intelligence got it right.'

'Three minutes till the drop zone,' said Murai. 'The SB is about to pass us by.'

'CB to SB,' Tokudaiji addressed the crew in the other aircraft. 'All Focus units,
switch from standby to drop mode. This is your final briefing. We will begin
countdown 2000 meters west of the target. Seven seconds later you will enter the
drop zone. It is probable that the drop will be detected by the enemy. Reconfirm
the path of movement.'

'Focus One, acknowledged,' replied Yushiro from inside his armor, watching the
deployment map flash on the display.

'Focus Two, acknowledged,' replied Ataka.

'Focus Three, acknowledged,' replied Takayama.

'Focus Four, acknowledged,' replied Kitazawa.

'While this operation is being conducted with little preparation,' said the colonel
to the pilots, 'the enemy has been visually confirmed to be of platoon strength.
Execute each step as you have done in the training, and our first combat mission
should be a success.'

'Colonel, I tried scanning for radar waves one more time. I am detecting none,'
said Tokudaiji.

'That's to our advantage.'

'Latest forecast says a low pressure front is expected to move close to the target
area, but it will be noon before the weather begins to change. Currently at 5000
meters to the target. All Focus units, prepare for impact.'

'Team A, physical conditions check,' said Kaburagi. 'Heart rate, Focus One at
eighty-two. Focus Two at ninety-four.'

Murai followed suit. 'Team B, physical conditions check. Heart rate, Focus Three
at eighty-five and Focus Four at seventy-nine.'

'Dopamine receptor levels, Focus One and Two both reporting normal figures.'

'Same for Focus Three and Four. Starting countdown to drop. Six, five, four,
three, two...'

The plane swooped low as though to brush the earth. Fine sand rose like white smoke
beneath the broad wings. The drop hatch was already open. One after another in
close succession the four armors fell away. The impact-absorbent mats on which they
sat dragged upon the sand and came to a slow halt. The locking mechanisms
disengaged, and the armors, having thus far crouched in dense bundles atop the mats
like men hugging their knees, rose to their heights quivering as though roused from
sleep. Ahead the pilots could see the gray tents that sheltered the enemy force.
Riflemen were scrambling out of the camp, and some were firing at the dropship which
was passing over their heads. The armors' ponderous feet dug into the soft sand in
their first steps on foreign soil. They fell into a formation and began their
charge, a hundred thousand pounds of iron stampede, towards the camp.

'Two hundred and fifty meters ahead,' observed Takayama. 'I see two tents, maybe a
seven or eight personnel. Does anyone see vehicles?'

'Negative. No, wait,' Ataka said, for at that moment an armored car, mounted with a
gun, emerged from one of the tents. 'There it is. Focus One and Two will take it
out. You two cover the other tent. Let's flank them.'

'Roger that.'

The four armors divided into pairs, with Yushiro and Ataka on the right flank and
Takayama and Kitazawa on the left.

'Have they seen us yet?' asked Kitazawa, squinting at the enemy riflemen who,
because of the distance and the darkness, were as yet little more than busily moving
nondescripts on the cockpit display. They had ceased firing for the most part, as
the plane was now quite out of their range. Then he heard a dull metallic ping,
small but close, and he knew his armor had just deflected a bullet. 'Looks like
they have. Murai, would you please enter into the battle record that Captain
Kitazawa was the first to take enemy fire?'

'You were always a showoff,' Takayama said.

The Belgistani soldiers were now fully alerted to the assault. They shouted
excitedly to the others, calling their attention to the approaching armors. Firing
resumed and bullets started wheezing by, drawing sparks when they found their
targets. The armor units pressed onward undeterred. It took the riflemen some
while to notice an oddness about their enemies; for it is difficult to judge the
scale of a thing at distance, especially against so monotonous a backdrop. It was
not until the armors were within a hundred meters of the camp that the soldiers
vaguely realized what they were up against. The reaction was obvious and instant;
they paused shooting and stared briefly, and then took to their feet, scattering.

'The car first,' Ataka reminded her partner.

'Roger,' replied Yushiro. 'Let's split up. I will go left.'

The gun atop the enemy vehicle was spewing fire at the two armors. Circling to the
front of the car, Yushiro returned fire with the rifle, much too enormous for human
hands, fastened on the machine's right arm, which also served as a midrange rocket
launcher. Only a few enemy rounds caught the armor in the shoulder, with minimal
effect; though hardly graceful in appearance, the tactical armor was an agile craft,
able to outrun any tanks on unpaved terrains and vastly more maneuverable; if they
appeared slow it was because they were so large. While the gun was unsuccessfully
trying to match Yushiro's movement, Ataka advanced to the rear unchecked. Leveling
the barrel direct at the gun turret, she fired in a concentrated burst. The barrage
nearly knocked the turret off the car.

'The gun's neutralized,' said Ataka.

Yushiro wedged his rifle under the chassis, targeting a wheel joint, and discharged
three quick rounds. 'The vehicle is immobile.'

'Stay put and take care of the prisoners. I'll go and round up the others.'

'Roger.'

So Yushiro kept guard over the vehicle's crew, who emerged from the battered car
coughing amid smoke, and Ataka pursued the remaining foot-soldiers. Meanwhile
Takayama and Kitazawa had reached the other tent. Two Belgistani ran out as
Takayama was about to clear the entrance. They gave a startled cry at the giants
and dashed away.

'I'll get them, major. You clear out the tent,' said Kitazawa, starting after the
soldiers.

'Try and take them alive. Warning shots should be enough.'

A second armored car darted from the inside then, and ran squarely into Takayama's
unit. He almost fell backward from the crash but recovered quickly, taking a half-
step back and digging a heel into the ground. He attempted to hold the car with the
free arm (for the other held the rifle), but it eluded his grasp and began speeding
away. Taking aim, he fired at the rear of the vehicle. Kitazawa joined in and let
loose a rocket that fell close behind the target. Takayama followed suit. The
second rocket burst into flame not five feet off to the right of the car. When the
smoke cleared the pilots saw the car overturned and the crew clambering out through
the back hatch. The armors were there to intercept them.


* * * * * * * * * *

[PeterEliot]

The last shot of the battle had hardly been fired when Councilman Meth was informed
of the news at Shrine Hill. Though the hours were early, he duly telephoned the
chairman as he had been ordered.

'So the facility has been completely overrun?' said the chairman.

'Yes, sir. The enemy was comprised of four Fakes. They appear to be from the
Japanese SSDF which arrived in Belgistan yesterday. There was however nothing of
value left at the site.'

'Japanese Fakes, you say? Now this is a most interesting turn of events. What of
Miharu?'

'I have been told that her condition has finally stabilized to normal. I thought it
best to get her out of Belgistan immediately.'

'No, not just yet.'

'No?' said the councilman in surprise.

'If their Fakes are that well built, one of their operators might just be him.'

He was taken aback at this. 'Do you mean the other invitator with whom Miharu
attempted fusion? I suppose it is not outside the realm of possibility. The point
of attempted summoning did originate from Japan.'

'Let the two have contact with each other.'

'But, sir,' began the councilman in hasty protest, 'she recovered but a short while
ago. The exertion could prove overtaxing.'

'She is not as weak as you fancy. I should like to know who it was she had so badly
to reach.'

'As you wish, then.'

'You are not happy with this.'

'I think it dangerous.'

'To the enterprise, or to the girl?'

'Both, sir.'

'You are easily concerned,' said the chairman with a hint of amusement. 'And I
would not rely on you as I do if you were not. But quell your fears; I am sure she
will fare quite well. In fact I feel it in my heart that she will likely prefer it
this way.'


* * * * * * * * * *


When the site had been secure for four hours and the desert dawn gave way to a
bright morning, just as the air resumed the heat of daylight the first of the
investigation teams arrived by a helicopter. They were greeted by the sight of the
armors towering over the native prisoners of war who sat under armed watch.
Immediately they commenced with the work, the manner of which struck the soldiers,
whose puzzlement had been steadily mounting since the site's capture, as rather
peculiar. The investigators appeared for all the world as if they were conducting a
geological survey. They traced over every square foot of the site with what looked
like radioactivity detectors, but in plain clothes without the slightest visible
concern for contamination.

And it was a most curious place for such a study too. The site lay beside an
elevated helipad, but except for that solitary structure there was not a hint of
buildings in the vicinity. What the armor company had found instead was a cluster
of enormous depressions in an otherwise featureless earth, perfectly circular in
shape and arranged closely together. There was a regularity about their appearance
which at once precluded their having been created by mere violence of detonations.
For the depressions were not rounded or uneven at the bottom but flat; and what is
more, each hollow was a concentric ring of three, four, or five circles, of
consistently progressive depth like a staircase, so that they resembled in effect
six amphitheaters carved into the ground. The largest of these was three hundred
feet in diameter and fifty in depth. It cut partially into the adjacent helipad, so
that the structure's concrete edge had been dented in a smooth arc.

'Now what in seven hells is this?' said Takayama when they had secured the hill and
had time to observe. 'If I didn't know better I'd have said something fell from the
sky and stamped the place.'

The soldiers' confusion did not subside when they investigation members flew in, and
they saw that a majority of them seemed to be from their own nation. Where were the
United Nations representatives? Where were the Americans? But Colonel Hayakawa
thought he understood a little of this perplexing state of affairs when, shortly
before noon, a second helicopter carrying more investigators arrived at the site.
For among the newcomers who rolled off the helipad in jeeps were, to his and one
particular armor pilot's surprise, Gowa Kiyotsugu and Kiyoharu, the former in
functional field attire and the latter dapper to his cufflinks.

The colonel did not speak of the Gowa brothers to the rest of the men, but he found
time to approach them discreetly.

'What have you found?' Kiyotsugu asked one of those that had arrived earlier.

'Only residual readings. But it seems clear as daylight.'

'I'll say. What an amazing sight this is,' said he, gazing out to the massive
hollows about. 'Did you detect any signs of heat?'

'None, sir.'

'Magnetic fluctuation signatures?'

'We found some. Considering the time elapsed since, it must have been over seventy-
two.'

'That's incredible.'

'Ah, good morning, colonel,' said Kiyoharu to the colonel when he saw him advancing.
He turned to his brother. 'Do you remember Lieutenant Colonel Hayakawa? You met
him once or twice when SSDF members visited the home lab.'

'I did not realize Gowa representatives would be here in person,' the colonel said.

'I will go and see what the others have found,' said Kiyotsugu to his brother, and
took his leave with the assistant.

'As you can see, my brother is a researcher through and through,' Kiyoharu spoke to
the colonel, 'and naturally not as knowledgeable in businesses outside the domain of
science. I am here to help him coordinate the investigation.'

'We thought--,' the colonel began, only to stop and correct himself, 'or rather the
entire world thought weapons of mass destruction were being tested in this place.
But I must say now that seems hardly likely.'

'The Americans made that claim, not we.'

'And you had known their claim to be wrong.' The colonel paused, fixing the other
man with a wary accusing glance. 'How much do you know? What do you expect from
the TA company?'

'Those are hardly questions for me to answer,' replied Kiyoharu, looking surprised.
'You are a colonel, and I a civilian executive. You had better direct your queries
to the persons who issued your orders.'

'Who issued the orders?'

'Colonel, you say odd things! Are they not your own superiors? They are certainly
not mine.'

The colonel made no effort to hide the displeasure on his countenance. But without
another word he turned to head back towards command center. Kiyoharu's words
stopped him.

'It seems the company's first engagement went splendidly. My congratulations,
colonel.'

'Thank you,' he replied curtly, and was about to resume walking.

'How did my younger brother do?'

'Admirably.' The colonel gestured at the erect silhouette of an armor on the far
edge of an amphitheater. 'That's him over there. Do you wish to speak with him?'

'Thank you. We'll wait; he is on duty.'

The pilots meanwhile were growing slowly restless. And small wonder; it was
scorching hot, and they were encased inside metal trappings like so many turkeys in
an oven. They took turns getting out of the armor to get aired for a few minutes at
a time; took turns because they were still in combat status and under orders to keep
the machines manned. Though they were spread across the hill, the pilots were able
to chat via radio.

'Here's a thought,' Kitazawa mused. 'An onboard air conditioner.'

'Dream on,' said Takayama.

'I bet the Belgistani TA's have air conditioning. They have to if they were
developed in a desert country. If we fight them we'll be at a critical
disadvantage.'

'Bored, Kitazawa?' Ataka said teasingly. 'Though this fight sure was uneventful. I
suppose combat can be like that.'

'Considering the difference in strengths, you wouldn't expect any other outcome,'
said Tokudaiji from the command base where he sat with Kaburagi and Murai. 'Most of
the Belgistani forces are at the moment preoccupied with defending the capital. But
that's not to say they won't try and take back this place.'

'Out of curiosity, has any one of you fired shots at live targets before today?'
asked Kitazawa.

'Not me,' replied Ataka.

'No,' said Takayama.

'Me neither. Strange, isn't it?--the first time I fired a weapon in real combat I
wasn't even holding the weapon in my own hands.'

Takayama snorted. 'Now you are getting philosophical. You really must be bored.'

'Actually I think it must be all that sand I inhaled.'

'That would do it,' said Ataka. 'I think I got some in my hair, and I didn't spend
more than twenty minutes outside. It is driving me insane. I've seen flour coarser
than the sand here.'

'A shower would be great,' nodded Takayama. 'Sure hope they will finish up whatever
it is they are doing and let us out of here.'

'We're sure to pull out well before it gets dark,' Tokudaiji assured him. 'And it's
lunchtime already...'

'Wrong; it's bedtime already,' said Kitazawa with an audible yawn. 'Jet lag's
finally kicking in. If it weren't so darn hot I would go to sleep right here.'

'Don't you think about it, Focus Four,' Kaburagi warned sternly. 'We got eyes on
your brainwave activity. We'll know the moment you nod off.'

'And if I do?'

'We also have a syringe not six inches from your left shoulder. I'll have Murai
pump you with enough stimulants to keep you awake for three days straight.'

'That's substance abuse, lieutenant.'

'Maybe I'll just jab you with the needle then.'

'Ouch! Everything becomes a device of torture in your hands, doesn't it?'

'But seriously, I'm hungry,' said Tokudaiji as he stretched his considerable bulk in
the cramped quarter. 'When is lunch coming up, Lieutenant Murai?'

'Half an hour, captain,' she replied. 'The pilots are to take their meals two at a
time.'

'Should we flip coins?' joked Takayama.

'Focus One and Two will go first,' Tokudaiji said. 'Rin'--that was Ataka's given
name--'is a lady, and Gowa is still a growing boy.'

'Why, thank you, Captain Tokudaiji. For a bachelor that's considerate of you,'
laughed Ataka.

'How is Yushiro holding up?' asked Takayama at the mention of the youth, for there
had been no transmission from him for some while, though his channel had stayed
open. 'Captain Gowa? How is it going there?'

'Yushiro?' Ataka called when no reply was forthcoming.

But Yushiro did not respond. His unmoving armor stood by itself perched at the
precipice of one of the great hollows. Inside he was still, transfixed at the
spectacle as he had been for the past half-hour. Yet his eyes no longer saw what
lay before him, and his ears were long since closed to the comrades' chatter. The
mirage of Kinashi and the pillar of rainbow overwhelmed him; and breaking, suddenly,
the unnatural silence which his mind had conjured, rendering him insensible to all
but the phantom, was a wailing echo still more unnatural--the plaintive cry of
chanters, prolonged and undulating, and the slow yet inexorable beat of drums,
prompting his limbs like puppet strings.

'Captain Gowa?' called Kaburagi, who sensed that something was amiss.

Yushiro's armor crouched, kneeling. The backside opened upwards with a puff of dust
and sand, and the pilot leapt to the ground and began skidding down the slope of the
amphitheater.

'What in the--Captain Gowa, we are still at Defcon 3!'

'Huh? What happened?' Takayama asked.

'Yushiro just got off the armor.'

'Probably just wants a breather,' offered Kitazawa.

'Where is he running to?' Ataka wondered, spotting him also.

He had by then reached the center of the arena. There he abruptly froze and held
himself motionless for a longest moment, like a man who just discovered himself at
gunpoint. If his behavior thus far was quizzical to his comrades, what he next
proceeded to do was absolutely confounding. Slowly he raised his right hand and
circumscribed an arc about him. He began to move his feet with measured
deliberation; four gentle stomps upon the earth, then five to his right, five
backwards, then the stomps again.

'...What is he doing?' Kitazawa said nonplussed.

'I don't know,' replied Ataka.

'Hayakawa to CB,' came the voice of the colonel, who was still outside. 'Is that
Captain Gowa I see down there? What on earth is he doing?'

'We're not sure, sir. He exited the armor unauthorized. He's not answering us,'
returned Murai.

'Check his physical conditions.'

'Yes, sir.'

'His heart rate is at 190 and rising rapidly,' said Kaburagi. 'Blood pressure 178,
also rising. Dopamine receptors are going into overdrive. The pattern seems
consistent with the ability phase shifts he has demonstrated before.'

'But he is not in his TA,' said the colonel.

'No, sir.'

The activity did not go unnoticed by Kiyotsugu and his team. It could not have,
because Yushiro had not been dancing for quite one minute when one of the
technicians alerted Kiyotsugu's to sudden and violent fluctuations in the graphs
blinking across the screens, which they had set up in the shade of the helipad.

'What's going on?' Kiyoharu asked, joining his brother who squatted gaping in
consternation before the monitors.

'These figures--impossible,' he stuttered. 'What happened?' He looked out to the
hill, sweeping the assembly of hollows with a wild unnerved gaze. He caught sight
of the lone dancing figure. Though it was far away and obscured by the uniform and
the helmet, he saw at once who it was and what he was doing. 'Yushiro!'

'Yushiro?' Kiyoharu repeated.

'He is dancing the Gasara.' Kiyotsugu leapt back to the screens. 'Observe the
immediate vicinity of that man. Don't let a thing get by,' he told the technicians.
Then he ran off alone.

'Where are you going?'

Kiyotsugu burst into the helicopter that was the company's command base, startling
the soldiers. 'Let me see Yushiro's physiological stats,' he cried.

'Who are you?' asked Tokudaiji with a frown, rising from his seat. 'This is a
restricted space. You need to leave immediately.'

'I am Gowa Kiyotsugu. I have clearance to participate in this operation.' He was
already peering into Kaburagi's monitor panel. Tokudaiji detained him by the
shoulder.

'I don't care if you are the mayor of Tokyo, sir. You are leaving.'

'What's this I'm hearing?' came the colonel's voice again.

'Sir, we have a member of the site investigation team onboard,' Murai informed him.
'He says he is a Gowa and has clearance.'

The colonel's irritated sigh was distinct from the speaker. 'Let him do as he
likes.'

Kiyotsugu shook himself out of the captain's grip and returned to studying the
panel. 'His heart rate is already at 300,' he muttered. 'He is definitely in the
process of phase shift. Was he given any inhibiting agents during the raid earlier?
Compound C for instance?'

'No,' said Kaburagi, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. 'How do you know all this?'

'I developed the system,' he replied without looking at the woman, continuing to
mutter to himself. 'This would translate to a responsiveness rate of at least
180%... It might just be enough for a singularity.'

That was when Kaburagi rose and dashed out of the helicopter. Kiyotsugu, startled,
shouted after her not to interrupt Yushiro, but she was already outside. Sprinting
across the field, she skipped down the tiers of the hollow to the arena where he was
dancing entranced still.

'Captain Gowa!' she cried out to him.

Still he went on dancing, betraying no suggestion that he had heard her. She was
almost upon him when a piercing crack rang out. She saw a spark, Yushiro reeling
like he had taken a punch to the head, and then the boy collapsed on his side
without a sound.

'Sniper, 12 o'clock!' cried the colonel.

The armors were fitted with motion sensors and located the sniper quickly. They did
not attempt to capture him but at once opened fire. Had even one of the shots hit,
it would certainly have been the end of the man, for they were armor-piercing rounds
designed to tear through tanks. But when the dust blew over, exposing the target,
the sniper was left cowering but otherwise unscratched. His arms were raised in
surrender.

Kaburagi knelt next to Yushiro's prone form. For one second she was certain of his
death, but from the dimple in his helmet she realized that it had taken the brunt of
the shot. She shook him cautiously, calling his name, unsure yet that he was not
wounded. He moaned, his breath short quick bursts of panic and fear. She raised
him halfway and rested his back against her knee, and she felt the shuddery
convulsions seizing his entire frame. When the helmet came off the face it revealed
was wide-eyed with terror. His right hand was still outstretched, shaking--as
though it was beckoning something or, perhaps equally likely, attempting to keep it
away.

Lieutenant Murai and Colonel Hayakawa joined them, the former carrying a medical
box. Kiyoharu and Kiyotsugu were not far behind them. She checked his pupil, and
found it dilated nearly to the rim of the iris.

'Coming again,' Yushiro muttered shudderingly. 'She is coming. But why is she--
Why is she--'

The colonel's radio buzzed then. He raised it to his mouth. 'What is it, Captain
Tokudaiji?'

'Sir, I have just picked up three unidentified choppers approaching from northeast.'

The colonel surveyed the sky in the direction given. He did not have to look hard.
There they were, three specks in the blue heaven, glinting bright under the sun like
stars in daylight. 'An attack?'

'That's what it looks like, sir. All three are toting something very big. I have
alerted the armors already.'

'All units prepare to intercept,' ordered the colonel. 'Focus One is unavailable.
Three person formation.'

'How is he? Was he hit?' Takayama asked.

'He's all right. Just in shock.'

'Thank goodness,' breathed Ataka.

'Take care of him,' Kaburagi said to Murai, hurrying back to the command base.

'I have good visual of the enemy,' said Kitazawa. 'Are you seeing this, people?
Are those things what I think they are?'

'Yes, captain,' Tokudaiji replied, beholding on display the magnified image of the
unknown helicopters and the prodigious cargo they carried underneath. 'No doubt
about it. Those are tactical armors.'





-End of Stave IV-

[PeterEliot]

What makes my heart stir so?
Whence within me comes this ache?
Whirlwind of sand and smoke blurs the earth,
Sweet sad passions infuse the dark air
Clad thick in armor, inhibited to confirm your presence,
Yet I feel as if we touch upon each other's wounds

Stave V. The Touching

Winds had not been gentle all day, but they were now turning vicious. It took a mere few minutes for the sky to darken and not because of any clouds; it was quite devoid of any. It was rather the haze of sand, stirred and raised up by the winds, that veiled the sun and saturated all below in a cheerless shade of yellow. And in its midst people were busy at Shrine Hill; running this way and that, running for shelter, running to shield the sensitive apparatuses from sandy gusts, running to clear the place in anticipation of battle. These were of course civilians. The soldiers were already at their posts preparing to confront the enemy—all but a few, anyhow. Yushiro's convulsions had begun to subside, but he was not yet back to all his senses. Colonel Hayakawa and Lieutenant Murai were with him. The latter was about to administer a mild dose of tranquilizer when he raised himself with a jerk, batting away the hand that held the syringe. He rose to his feet, his movement quick but unsteady, his eyes wild and staring far.

‘Captain Gowa?’ the lieutenant called unsurely.

He blinked and would not look her way. His arms were still shivering. 'Are they here?' said he.

'Any moment now. Are you all right, captain?' asked the colonel. A minute before he had been certain that he would have to carry the young man.

'Yes.' Yushiro blinked a few more times and shook his head vigorously. Quickly he surveyed the surroundings, as though he was trying to banish the mirage and reacquaint his eyes to this world. Then he snatched the dented helmet from the ground and dashed for the armor he had abandoned.

'Captain Gowa!' cried the colonel. 'Are you sure you can—’

'Sir, I'm returning to post,' he shouted back without slowing his feet.

'Focus One will be rejoining the formation shortly,' the colonel spoke into the radio. 'Try not to engage the enemies head on until then. Murai and I are returning to CB. Over and out.'

'Copy that,' answered Takayama.

'Focus units, can you see the enemy choppers?' asked Tokudaiji from the command base. 'I lost visual. They dropped too low.'

'I can. They seem to have ceased approaching—there, they are touching down.'

'Rep Three to CB,' said the radio operator of one of the three Bradley combat vehicles in the area. For of course the company had not been holding the hill with just the four Focus units. Once the armors had dealt with the enemy platoon, the support vehicles moved in and secured the area. 'We are sending you video feed of the hostiles. Loading 25mm AP rounds. The sand's getting pretty thick; it'll interfere with targeting.'


The three helicopters descended some four hundred meters away from the hollows, making it plain that they did not themselves intend to take part in the impending fight. Each hauled, by cables, a giant under its belly. The helicopters nearly dropped upon the horizon, and when they climbed back to air they were free of their burdens. The giants, set upon the ground, lurched forward and began running in straight vectors toward the site. In appearance they were decidedly more angular than their counterparts, and coated ivory white, blending into the desert landscape.

'You know, I just thought of something,' Kitazawa said almost absentmindedly. 'Camouflage. Why did we have to paint everything green?'

The armored cars opened fire on the enemy units, still no less than three hundred meters away. None claimed a hit. The enemies dispersed, increasing their speed. They trod the soft terrain with agile ease.

'They are pretty quick. Rep units, do you have an idea of their dimension?' Ataka asked.

'Seven or eight meters in height.'

'About the same as us,' said Takayama.

'Assume their movement capacities to be equal to ours and calculate accordingly,' ordered the colonel who had just returned to the command base with Murai.

'I'd feel much better about this,' Ataka said as she began shooting at the nearest approaching enemy, 'if we had done at least a mock TA to TA engagement!'

The enemy squad strafed in evasion and returned fire. They continued to advance toward the amphitheaters. They were by and large ignoring the combat vehicles except when keeping clear of their shells. It was apparent that they intended to engage the tactical armors.

'Keep moving, people, and be ready for anything—melee combat even,' said Takayama.

'All Rep units, hold your fire,' ordered the colonel when the opposing tactical armors were about to come in contact. 'Fall back and stay clear of the enemy TAs. Do not fire unless you are certain you can avoid friendlies.'

'Kitazawa, shoot the one at the lead,' said Ataka. 'I'll get him when he dodges.'

'Roger.'

The enemy armor turned swiftly aside as Kitazawa let off a stream of rounds. Ataka checked its movement, took aim and commenced shooting. The two pilots converged their fire, trying to pin down the target. But the enemy disappeared from their sight when suddenly thick gray gas erupted around it.

'Smokescreen?' cried Ataka.

'I think so. The bastards are well equipped.'

Then the enemy emerged from the smoke and dust, gun raised, and another immediately behind it. Ataka fired nearly at the same time as the enemy. She struck the chest of the second armor. It wobbled from the impact but did not fall. Her unit took in turn concentrated hits in the forearm, which burst into flame. Kitazawa and Takayama discharged their rifles at the two armors. The enemies split, the one that had taken fire being somewhat sluggish. They would have targeted this latter, but that the armor which had hit Ataka charged at Kitazawa so quickly that they were forced to fend it off first.


'The reaction index of Focus Two has decreased 13%,' said Kaburagi. 'Focus One has booted up. Returning to formation.'

'Focus Three, a third enemy unit is approaching from your right,' said Tokudaiji. He had been for some time tracking the armors, friendly and hostile, on a grid display.

'Roger,' replied Takayama, and launched a grenade that shot past its object by hardly two feet. He followed with gunshots. They too missed except for a round or two. 'Damn it,' he growled, 'these things are definitely harder to hit than cars.'

'Focus Three, stay on your toes,' said Tokudaiji.

So the major's armor took to its feet again. The six armors were quite close now. As they were in open space, with few elements in the surroundings that might serve as a cover, they were obliged to adopt the least coordinated of tactics—which was to say, they had to scamper every which way, never slowing down lest they should become still targets, firing at one another all the while. What a sight it was, those metal titans dashing about at a pace uncanny for their bulks, massive guns blazing. Upon this furious scene, exacerbated by the maelstrom of sand, Yushiro's armor belatedly added its own presence. He entered the fight with a shot of grenade which forced an opposing unit that had been advancing toward Kitazawa to turn on a heel. The enemy abandoned its target and faced Yushiro instead.

'I have this one,' said Yushiro to the rest of the squad.

'Be careful, Captain Gowa,' said Tokudaiji. 'That one moves differently from the others. Don't let it get near you.'

And it was charging head on at him. Yushiro took aim for another grenade. The enemy sidestepped the trajectory deftly. The arm had given him away, he realized; to fire he had to level the machine's right hand at the target, and the opponent was reading the movements. Major Takayama was right. This was going to be far trickier than shooting tanks.

The two armors clashed with a tremendous bang. Both staggered in recoil; neither drew back. Two immense pairs of hands pressed against each other, refusing to give way. Yushiro put forth a knee flush against the enemy's mass. It was fitted with a piston which, designed originally for breaching concrete walls, discharged compressed gas at an explosive velocity. The blast did not deal much damage, but it pushed the enemy back three stunned steps.

'Focus One's drive power system is 80% over standard,' Kaburagi noted.

'Are you sure you are reading it right?' the colonel asked.

'Yes, sir. Heart rate is steady at one hundred and ninety. This is atypical of his phase shifts.'

Kiyoharu, who had been observing the battle at the command base since it began, leaned toward his brother and whispered: 'What does she mean?'

'She means Yushiro is both calmer and stronger than he typically is in a state of hyper-perception,' he whispered back. 'The output level of his TA's artificial muscles is at almost twice the usual figure.'

'How is that possible?'

'Why would it be impossible? We don't know how Mile One works. We don't know how far its capacities extend.'


'But he doesn't seem to be having an easy time with his opponent. Does this mean the enemy TA is of a superior design?'

'Not necessarily. But it does make me curious to know who is piloting that TA.'

It was about then that the first of the malfunction reports came in. It was from Captain Ataka's unit. 'Something isn't right,' she said, struggling to balance the machine at a quick pace. 'I'm losing torque in the legs. They keep slipping.'

'You too? I thought it was just the terrain—,’ began Kitazawa, but stopped with a grunt when enemy bullets struck his armor in the thigh, knocking him off feet. Takayama returned a volley of fire to give him time to get up.

Yushiro was meanwhile locked in a fierce duel. His opponent had briefly allowed some distance between them only to hurl itself at him with renewed vigor. He managed to fire just a few rounds before he was forced to deflect the attack bodily. With his weapon-wielding arm he held off the enemy's own, to avoid being shot at pointblank range, noting at the back of his mind that it appeared, in human terms, left-handed. Once again the two armors wrestled together.

'Who are you?' he whispered through gritted teeth.

'Did you say something, Focus One?' asked the colonel. He received no answer.

The ivory TA's free hand pulled back, clutched a fist, and came thrusting with the momentum of a torpedo. Yushiro caught the blow against a palm—a splendidly nimble maneuver, which nevertheless proved insufficient when the hand that intercepted the punch snapped off at the wrist.

'Focus One, total loss of neural circuitries in the left forearm. He's lost the hand,' reported Kaburagi.

Yushiro buttressed himself against stumbling backward with a foot dug deep into the ground. The broken knuckle was shoved into the enemy's shoulder, and the good hand gripped the barrel of its rifle. He could hear the crunch of metal grinding against metal. He strained to push forward, intending to break the impasse by disabling the gun. But the leg that propped him was not giving him proper footing; the earth was too brittle, and the foot was already buried nearly up to the ankle. He tried shifting the armor's weight by means of the booster located at the calf, but the device only released feeble sputter.

'Secondary articulation systems are losing power,' Murai said worriedly.

'It's the sand,' cried Tokudaiji in realization. 'Sand must be getting into joints. Colonel, this is only going to get worse. We can't drag out the fight.'

'We don't seem to be the only ones having trouble,' the colonel replied.

That was very true. The enemy armors, with the exception of the one engaging Yushiro, had fallen back somewhat, maintaining distance. The pace of their movement had suffered noticeable decline, and they betrayed no sign of attempting close range combat as before. Perhaps fortunately for both sides, this did not render targeting any easier. The sandstorm had by then grown so violent that objects at any distance faded as dim shadows. Even motion trackers were reaching the limit of their usefulness, able only to provide broken intermittent pictures like a television with poor reception.


Yushiro and his opponent were in a stalemate. Pressed hard together, neither could manage an attack maneuver. Nor would they back down. Spellbound Yushiro regarded on display the bleary image of the enemy armor. It was terribly close—quite in his face. But for the covering which sheltered him, he might have reached out and touched the heated white surface. His eyes traced the machine's angular feature. It offered no discernible hint of the human being within.

'Who are you?' said he.

The machine gave a stir, and took a step back. It lowered its gun. A certain deliberateness in the gesture held Yushiro from taking advantage of the opening. The enemy pulled away almost gently, the aggression gone all of a sudden, like a boxer retreating to his corner at the sound of the gong. In silence Yushiro watched the giant withdraw into the stormy yellow mist. For full thirty paces it did not turn its back. He thought he could feel the adversary's gaze upon him, and wondered for the first time how he must appear enclosed in the armor to observing eyes.

'They seem to be withdrawing. Do not pursue,' the colonel's voice came. 'Focus units, maintain position until the hostile units have cleared the area.'

'Roger that, CB,' said Takayama. 'Have the repairs crew on standby.'

Though she knew she was not supposed to while piloting, Ataka unclasped her helmet and let out a long breath. 'This is technically a win, isn't it?'

'I don't know. But it seems to be over at least,' answered Kitazawa. 'And not a moment too soon.'

So concluded the company's second and last skirmish that day.


* * * * * * * * * *


In a matter of hours the sandstorm which proved a mixed blessing for the armor company spread to engulf the northern half of Belgistan. For eighteen hours it raged, enforcing during that interval a virtual ceasefire across forty thousand square miles of desert territory. Relieved by American reinforcements, the company left Shrine Hill and returned to the headquarter base that same afternoon. They were surprised to learn there of the intense interest which their first combat engagement had engendered in the media. There had been, unbeknownst to the combatants, a crew of journalists not far from the hill at the time of the fight. Noting the helicopters that carried the enemy armors, they rushed to the battle site. Though they did not reach the hill in time for a close look at the combat, they managed from distance to capture the silhouette of a mechanical giant, half obscured in the storm. The image quickly made its way to an American television network, there to be delivered to the living rooms of the world's news-watching public. By the time of the company's return to the base it was common knowledge. Already the suspicion of Japanese origin was being spoken of in the news.

Not that the soldiers had the leisure to give any of it much thought. The aftermath of their first battle left them in no shortage of immediate concerns to deal with. All four armors were in need of repair. And though with conventional weaponry that might be left entirely to the care of the maintenance crew, the nature of the tactical armors, which needed to be fine tuned to the pilots' unique attributes, demanded that the soldiers be present to test the machines throughout much of the repair effort. As suspected sand turned out to be a great trouble. It had penetrated every nook that was the least bit exposed, particularly the joints. The limbs had to be stripped of armor plates, and the parts inside meticulously cleaned of impurities.

'We're having to peel it off because vacuuming wasn't enough,' the crew chief told Captain Ataka at the hangar before the half-flayed form of her unit. 'We will also have to replace a number of modules in the arm that got hit.'


'Can you do it by sundown? I'd really like to test it in fully operational condition before going to bed.'

'We'll do what we can. We aren't sleeping tonight anyway.'

'Is it that bad?'

'Well, we want to give each unit a complete checkup besides the repair. A desert engagement is really the worst debut it could have made—we need to determine what exactly sand can do to the system. Focus One and Two are receiving priority because they were damaged worse.'

Ataka thanked the crew chief and returned to the break room, where the other soldiers were still at the table supping. They had mostly finished eating and the room was quiet. Kitazawa sat off to a corner on the floor, absorbed in a handheld video game player.

'It looks like sand, more than the enemy, is the issue at the moment,' said she.

Colonel Hayakawa stood at a window observing the hazy vista outside. 'That isn't the only issue we have,' he said in a low voice.

Ataka then noted Yushiro at the table, eyes downcast and silent, and standing next to him Kaburagi with an impatient expression. There was no tray before him, and she wondered if he had at all eaten. A prominent bruise ran from his left cheek down to the jaw. He had not fallen down gently when earlier the sniper's bullet came near claiming his life.

'Answer me, Captain Gowa,' said—continued—Kaburagi, clapping a palm on the table. 'Help us understand. What in the world was that about?'

He would not speak. Kaburagi grew still more impatient.

'Your action compromised the mission. You have an obligation to explain your behavior, captain.'

He only fixed his attention on the metal surface of the table. The others would not look at him either. Kaburagi's voice rang shrill in the room, the rest of the men having sunk into a tense, almost embarrassed silence.

'I thought you blew a fuse,' said Kitazawa after awhile, not looking up from the ongoing game. 'I've heard about fellas who go haywire once they get a whiff of real war.'

'Is that what it was?' Tokudaiji asked, half rising. 'Just a failure of the nerve? To me it felt more like—’

'Like?' said Takayama.

'...Nothing.'

'Then again, you did fight well,' added Kitazawa. He reset the game for another round.

'Performance is not in question here,' Kaburagi said. 'This stems from the fact of having a civilian on a frontline assignment.'

'I will be the one to judge that,' interjected the colonel, at last turning from the window. He addressed the young man who during the exchange had not so much as moved a muscle. 'Captain Gowa, do you wish to say anything at this time in your defense?'


'No, sir.'

'Then you may go.'

With gratitude Yushiro accepted the leave. Lieutenant Murai let out a sigh when the door closed behind him, glad that the confrontation was over for the time being. 'Sir, will you be disciplining Captain Gowa?' she asked cautiously.

'Bizarre as his conduct was,' replied the colonel after some thought, 'his only fault was in leaving his armor unauthorized. I don't believe his intention was to desert his post. We also cannot doubt that his behavior was in some way affected by... physiological factors.'

'Such that he could not of his own will control them, sir?' inquired Kaburagi.

It was a difficult question to answer. To affirm might further bolster the notion that young Gowa was too unstable for combat duty. To deny would necessarily imply his willful neglect of protocol. 'I meant, captain, that it seems very likely that the factors behind his conduct were the same responsible for his unique strength as a pilot.'

'I wonder if it is a strength,' Kaburagi said.

'How do you mean?' Ataka asked, frowning.

'I mean what we have taken to be superhuman may simply be an instance of the abnormal. Earlier Yushiro's heart rate reached the maximum of 318, and this when he was not even geared up. How is his body enduring the strain, and what's more, why does it induce such extreme conditions on its own?'

'We are not going to find out by questioning him,' offered Takayama.

Ataka nodded gravely. 'He doesn't understand it himself, Kahoru. And he wants to, badly. After coming out of one of his phase shifts he's always terribly quiet. He isn't happy.'

'Rin, I am not trying to persecute him,' replied Kaburagi. 'I just wonder what we are doing dragging him all the way here. He's seventeen, for mercy's sake. He should be going to ballgames and studying for college, not getting his head almost blown off in some foreign desert.'

'He go to school?' asked Kitazawa.

'Tutors,' replied Takayama. 'I don't think he gets out of home much when he's not with us.'

'Buddies? A sweetheart? I mean, a pretty-faced rich prince like him—’

'He sure hasn't mentioned any.'

'What does he ever mention anyway?'

The conversation seemed to run down after that. No one offered a remark though all were thinking of the youngest and most enigmatic member of their company. Tokudaiji rose and began collecting the trays, and Murai helped him.

'Well,' Kitazawa said as he started another game. 'He did fight well.'



* * * * * * * * * *


The United Nations representatives made full use of the brief unofficial ceasefire to carry on a talk with the Belgistani leadership. Their hope was to make the ceasefire permanent, but it failed to materialize when Belgistan refused to accept the proposed plan. The development puzzled politicians and analysts alike. Facing full-scale aerial bombing, against which the country had no conceivable defense, what could Stilbanov hope to gain by his obstinacy? It was by then a widely shared opinion among experts that an unknown third party was lending the dictator substantial assistance in war efforts. But even so did he truly expect to win this war against a coalition of superior armies? At any event the talk was broken off, and with a new and calmer dawn the fighting was set to resume. The mechanics of the tactical armor company worked tirelessly to restore the machines to perfect working order for the new day. Kiyotsugu’s team of technicians were also busy analyzing the freshly obtained data. Kiyotsugu and Kiyoharu, in particular, irritated Colonel Hayakawa by lodging at the very base where the company was quartered, since this meant he had to deal regularly with the older Gowa brothers' nagging presence. There was nothing to be done about it. The colonel's order was all but to regard them as members of his own outfit for the duration of their stay.

'May I put them on laundry duty then?' the colonel asked his direct superior when he phoned him to complain about what he saw as Gowa's intrusion into a military operation.

'Don't mind them and just let them conduct their studies,' answered the general with a laugh. 'I don't like these corporate types any more than you do, but they did put the TA together for us.'

'Still, sir, on a combat operation?'

'Of course they may not interfere with combat. Their access is limited to information salient to research purposes.'

'I would rather if they were given no access at all, sir.'

'I can't help you there, colonel. Gowa's participation was one of the provisos in the prime minister's authorization to mobilize the company.'

And there was an end on it. Kiyotsugu became afterwards a regular presence at the hangar where he was already acquainted with many of the crew personnel who had worked for Gowa. He was especially interested in what little information they had yet gleaned on the enemy armors. And it was to discuss these that he called Yushiro to the hangar early in the morning.

'Have a look, Yushiro,' Kiyotsugu said, showing him the recorded footages of the previous day's fighting. 'They are impressive machines, aren't they?'

'Yes,' answered Yushiro.

'In mobility, armament and firepower they are, from what I can tell, every bit our match if not better. Would you agree with that assessment?'

The boy nodded.

'A shame that the battle took place where it did,' continued Kiyotsugu. 'It held back both sides from demonstrating their full capabilities. We designed the TA primarily for urban environment where its ability to negotiate obstructions would come in the handiest. And if I were to guess I should think the enemy TA's were built on the same principle—which, along with other considerations, speaks against their being a native invention.' He pointed to the screen. 'Now, look at that. This was taken by your TA.'


Yushiro flinched involuntarily. The footage was replaying just what his eyes had witnessed the day before when he dueled the ivory armor. There it was again, close in his face, arms outstretched to grapple with his. But then Kiyotsugu paused the screen, and the armor's looming figure was stilled. As he exhaled he felt his heart settle from a momentary spell of fierce pounding.

'See this insignia?' said Kiyotsugu, pointing out the green and white marking on the armor's left shoulder. 'Flowers—I think lily bells. I went through the other TA's recordings too, and only this one had an insignia of any sort. This unit was the one that hit Focus Two and disabled your arm. And let's see...' He rewound through the recording briefly. 'Ah, there. See that? The same armor, recorded by Focus Three. See how it slides down the slope like a surfer riding a wave, and holds its balance perfectly? Amazing control. Could you manage the same, Yushiro?'

He stared long at the screen and did not respond to his brother immediately. 'I don't know. Maybe.'

'You were in contact with that unit longer than your teammates. Did you notice anything about it aside from the pilot's obvious skills?'

The answer was equally slow in coming. 'I had other things on mind.'

Kiyotsugu glanced at his younger brother. 'All this, it isn't easy on you, is it?' said he with a humorless grin, turning back to the desk. 'Since it's just us here, I will say this. I like you, little brother, and I wouldn't want to see you come to harm. I know much is being asked of you, but bear with us and trust us that we will bring you through it. It's important for the family.'

'The family,' Yushiro muttered.

[PeterEliot]

That afternoon Colonel Hayakawa was called to the office of Brigadier General Dole. The general informed the colonel that an all-out offensive on Kaha, preceded by intense bombing, would soon be underway. He had a special mission for the TA company. He wanted an enemy bipedal weapon seized whole—unscratched if at all possible. Spy satellites had photographed a small group of odd-looking machines stationed in an apparently civilian settlement. Analysis identified them as the same that had engaged the tactical armors at Shrine Hill. The town was otherwise undefended. So it was decided that the company would set out the following morning.


* * * * * * * * * *


During the preceding two days the multinational forces had pushed the frontline considerably farther north and secured a number of major supply routes. Accordingly the company approached the target area by land this time. The convoy consisted of a combat vehicle modified as a command base, additional support vehicles, and two specially designed trailers, each carrying a pair of armors as well as the crew. A helicopter accompanied them for air cover and reconnaissance.

Captain Tokudaiji drove one of the trailers. Next to him sat Kitazawa and Lieutenant Murai. The road was terribly uneven, making the passengers jump about in their seats as the vehicle shook over bumps.

'Coordinates 130, 30, 921,' read Murai who held the chart book. 'It's supposed to be an abandoned village, fairly far from other towns.'

'Right. Sit back and rest up, both of you. We'll be on the road all morning,' said Tokudaiji.

'In that case can you drive a little more gently?' Kitazawa asked. The car quaked so much that his teeth chattered when he spoke.


'It's the road, not my driving.'

'So, an abandoned village, eh?' Kitazawa said after an interval. 'No garrison, no defense, no camouflage?'

'You think this may be a trap,' observed Murai.

'I'm sure the colonel has speculated as much.'

'Ordinarily you would of course drop a few thousand kilos of TNT on them and be done with it,' Tokudaiji said. 'There is a reason we are being sent in. Whether or not it's a trap makes little difference for us.'

'Captain Kitazawa, are the TA's all in good shape?' asked Murai.

'I tested mine earlier. Good as new.'

'Let's hope it stays that way,' Tokudaiji said. 'With luck we may be able to carry out the raid unopposed.'

'I don't know. I think we'll end up fighting today.'

'You're sounding like Captain Gowa,' Murai said.

'Huh? Oh,' said Kitazawa, recalling Yushiro's prediction from their first day in the country. 'You know, I haven't thought about that since. What do you know?—he was right.'

'I wonder—,' began Tokudaiji, but stopped himself.

'What?'

'Never mind.'

'What is it?'

'Well, with his family business involved in the operation like this, I wonder if the boy knows something we don't.'

'About the mission, you mean?'

'Yes.'

'Not implausible, I guess.' Kitazawa chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, and at once regretted it when a jolt caused a painful bite. 'Ow! Damn this road! But, sure, it would be strange if he didn't know a few things unofficially. I mean he has two brothers and a cousin right here working on this. Those people get on my nerve.'

'And on the colonel's,' Tokudaiji said. 'Apparently there was a Gowa present in the room both times he spoke with Dole. He wasn't happy about that either.'

'That nosy lieutenant, eh? Didn't like him one bit on sight.'

'Him the first time, and the one wit