Curiosity.

That, he figured as he touched the thick white bandage around his neck and turned his head slightly to the right to ease the pain of swallowing, was the root cause of it all.

In this case, though, it had done more than just kill the proverbial cat.

What would have happened, then, he wondered, if he had not been so curious?

Or if Isao’s professor had not called him away? Or if it had been raining that day? Or if he had simply gone to the library to study like he planned?

So many small details, insignificant in and of themselves, yet together they brought about such tragedy, and on such a grand scale. He touched the bandage again, then let the pillows behind him take on his full weight as he sank back to recline on the bed again. He was tired, but his thoughts would not let him rest.

Once more, his mind wanted to go over it all again, to see where it started. Where it went wrong. How he could have been so blind and so stupid at the same time.

Instead of fighting it, this time, he let his mind bring him back.

* * *

He felt buoyant, lighter than air, even weighed down as he was with his books and laptop in his arms and his workout duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He walked across the university quad with a bounce in his step, the warm early spring air as intoxicating as the sunbathing girls dotting the new grass were enticing.

He lifted his face to the sky, feeling the warming touch of the sun, glad to be who he was, and where he was. Just completing his junior year at university, the spring semester rapidly coming to a close, and his summer internship already applied for, there was nothing he could need or want. For Toshiro Oniishi, life was good.

“Hey Toshiro!” a voice called out to him and Toshiro opened his eyes and blinked just in time to see three of his friends from the rowing team barreling towards him. He braced for the impact, tightening his arms protectively around the books and laptop as the bodies of the three young men slammed into his own.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you crazy?”

“It’s too nice to be stuck in indoors with your book up your nose.”

This last comment coming from Isao Masaki, his best friend and roommate. It was a running joke between them, as each studied late into the night, one often trying to outlast the other.

Shorter than Toshiro, stocky, with a shock of flyaway light brown hair and soulful brown eyes, Isao was also the eldest of their group. He was a graduate student, but due to an overcrowding at the university and a glitch in paperwork, he ended up rooming with Toshiro, though it was only supposed to last for a few weeks until an apartment could be found. But they had hit it off immediately, and when an apartment did open up, Isao declined it and continued to stay on with Toshiro. Isao was, for all intents and purposes, the brother Toshiro had always wanted, and he liked to think that Isao felt the same.

And when Isao joined the crew team on a lark, so did Toshiro. The fact that Toshiro excelled at it, given his long limbs and strength, was no surprise and Isao took great pride in his friend’s success, even as his own performance was less than stellar.

“Ah, what do you know?” Toshiro replied, mocking Isao, giving him a shove with his free shoulder.

“Know enough to say blow it off,” Isao replied with a laugh as the three boys fell into step with Toshiro. “So, where are we going?”

“The library.” Groans rose up around him. Toshiro grinned. “If you didn’t want to know, you shouldn’t have asked.”

“We got a better idea,” Jiri Naruda said, looping his arm through one of Toshio’s.

“Yup, you’re coming with us,” Hugo Fuentes said, sliding his arm through Toshio’s other arm.

With Isao pushing Toshio from behind, they steered him off the path leading towards the library and began the trek back across the quad.

Just as they reached the middle, Isao’s cell phone rang and they halted their forced march of Toshio as he answered.

“Damn,” he swore lightly as he ended the call.

“Problem?” Toshio inquired, concerned at the look on his friend’s face.

Isao shrugged. “It was my professor. His other TA just called in sick, so now I have to help cover tonight’s lecture.”

“He probably didn’t want to be stuck indoors either,” Jiri said with a grin.

“Probably not, the bastard,” Isao sighed. “Guess I’ll have to catch up with you guys later tonight.”

“Sucks to be you,” Hugo teased.

“Tell me about it,” Isao said with scowl as he began to walk towards the engineering building. “See you later, ‘kay?”

They waved and nodded as Isao walked away and stood in a little uncertain cluster for a moment.

“Guess it’s the library after all,” Toshiro announced after a moment, turning slightly on his heel. His friends immediately put up a protest.

“Hey, you can’t bail on us now.”

“Yeah, no reason why we still can’t go through with our plans.”

Jiri held tight to Toshiro, as did Hugo. Neither young man had any intention of letting their friend ruin a perfectly good spring day with something as boring as studying. Who cared if finals were only a few weeks away? They had plenty of time for that when the sun was not shining and fun begged to be had.

Automatically, the three began to walk towards the gymnasium, where much of their free time was usually taken up with workouts. The goal in mind was go beyond the gym, though, and towards the lake where the rowing crews often practiced. Even with Isao gone, the three of them could still take out a sculling boat and enjoy the rest of the afternoon skimming across the water’s surface.

After Toshiro realized where they were headed, he no longer put up a fight, but willingly followed them. Having grown up exclusively in a city, with rare vacations always in the mountains, it was not until he came here, to the university, that he was exposed to joy of rowing.

He liked the quietness, save for the unison splash of the oars in the water, and the feel of the resistance of the water against his arms. He had always thought sculling to be what birds must feel while flying, the lift and drag of a natural element against the body, all the while defying gravity to move fluidly through it.

Just as the threesome approached the boathouse, however, they heard voices, then a muted sound, like a cheer. A look passed between them, and without a word, the trio walked towards the building from which it seemed to be coming. Toshiro frowned as they approached the brick structure.

In the two years that he seen and passed by this building, he had always assumed that it was part of the university’s complex systems of heating or cooling, or maybe electrical, works. He could not recall ever seeing anyone even remotely near it. It was just there.

And now, there were more than a few people crowded into it. Feeling daring, they snuck up to the door that had been propped open to let in what cooling breeze that came off the lake into the building.

Careful not to catch the attention of the man positioned at the door, who stood with his back to them, they looked in, amazed at what they saw.

From the outside, the building looked as though it housed engines, pipes, and other industrial-type equipment. On the inside, however, it had the feel of a large conference room or auditorium. Row upon row of folding chairs lined the entire area, with only small aisles along the walls allowing room for people walk up and down, and all faced a small stage, behind which dark red draperies hung down, upon which a bright red graphic spider had been pinned. Nothing else hung from the bare walls, but no one seemed to mind or notice. Or care.

The standing room only audience was completely focused forward, now quiet, as they listened with rapt attention.

There were four people on the stage, but only one was standing at the moment, pacing back and forth, microphone in one hand as he used the other to specifically point to this or that one in the audience before him.

“We are on the verge of history,” he emphasized, clenching his free hand into a fist, “and we are the chosen ones, called to answer that destiny.”

Murmurs of approvals rippled through the audience, comprised mostly of college-aged adults, though he could see a few older people in the audience as well.

To his surprise, he recognized the speaker on the stage as being a professor in History Department. Professor McCallum. In fact, Toshiro had taken his class in political science as a freshman.

“Look around you,” McCallum ordered. “Look around and see who are your true support, the system that will uphold you just as you will uphold them. Together, we can bring about the changes that our society needs – cries out for! – and prevail over those who are too resistant to change, too unwilling to see that once the Dividing happens, there will be those left still standing and those who will crumble to ground. My friends, we will be the ones still standing at the end.”

At his pause for breath, the audience cheered and clapped. A few girls in the back rows openly wept. Toshiro and Hugo exchanged looks and rolled their eyes, grinning at the sight before them. It seemed so silly and over the top.

Were these people really serious, Toshiro thought with a laugh.

That was when he realized that the man standing at the door had done a double-take and noticed them standing there. With lightening fast reflexes, the man grabbed Hugo by the back of his shirt collar before the young man could even think to move.

“You want to see,” the man said, hauling Hugo in, “then come in. Galactor welcomes all who are willing to serve with open arms.”

Immediately, Toshiro and Jiri fell back, but did not run, their concern for Hugo causing them to hesitate. The man held the door open for them.

“You can all come on in,” he invited.

* * *

What had made them go in, Toshiro wondered, staring at the ceiling tiles. Loyalty to Hugo? The fact that the guard had actually invited them in?

Because they were curious?

Toshiro’s hands tightened into fists. It all circles back to that. Were they not so curious, none of this would have happened. Would it?

He heard footsteps at the door and turned his face to the wall, closing his eyes. He could not bear to face anyone just yet.

Pretending to be asleep, he let the nurse or whoever it was take his blood pressure, heard the notes to his chart being made and then he was left alone.

He fought the urge to call her back as the memories once again rose up in his mind and transported him back to a time when all he had to do was just turn away ... as simple as that ….

* * *

A girl at the back row turned her head as he stepped into the room and their eyes met and held. Toshiro’s heart nearly a skipped a beat at the sight of those large, exotic dark brown eyes and a small smile touched her lips before she turned back to face the stage. Her dark brown hair was cut into a short bob which barely brushed the bottoms of her small earlobes.

Maybe he would stay for just a little longer …

Up on the stage, Professor Charnock saw his sponsor’s daughter turn, saw the exchange take place, and made a mental note as to the lanky youth who caught the young girl’s eye. She was being groomed for big things … and he had no intention of letting her ruin it now on some schoolgirl crush, especially since his sponsor had charged him with keeping watch over her.

Unless, he considered, the boy was the right one for her … and for Galactor.

* * *

It was harder than Toshiro thought it would be to find out when the next rally meeting was. There were no posters, no signs, no hint of anything going on, until he managed to uncover a small sign, no bigger than an index card, which had been tacked up on the notices board near the history department.

Standing in the doorway, feeling awkward and slightly silly, he glanced around to see if he could see that girl from before.

“Coming in?” a man in dark suit standing next the door inquired.

“Uh, yeah,” Toshiro said with a nervous smile. The man regarded him blandly and stepped back, allowing Toshiro entrance.

He was slightly early, so the room was not full yet, but judging from those milling inside and the number of people he saw headed towards the building, that would change very soon.

Reluctant to lose his advantage of height, but not wanting to simply look foolish standing there, Toshiro selected a row near the back and slid onto a folding chair. His knees scraped the back of the chair ahead of him as the rows were placed so closed together that there was hardly any room between them. Thinking that maybe an aisle seat would suit him better, Toshiro began to scout around, looking for an available seat on an end, when his eyes stopped at the sight of a familiar face.

Quickly, he rose and headed over.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he slipped into the empty chair next to Jiri.

Jiri’s head whipped around, his eyes round at the surprise of being caught. Then he blinked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jiri replied defensively.

Toshiro grinned. “No mystery there. I wanted to see if I couldn’t find that girl I saw last time.”

“You’re here just for a girl?”

Toshiro ignored the derisive tone to Jiri’s question. “Hey, not just any girl. She was really … special. But what about you? I thought you and Hugo were supposed to go scout out possible summer jobs this afternoon.”

Jiri gave him a desultory shrug. “We did, for a bit. Then I told him that I had a headache and we came back.”

“So you didn’t tell him about this?”

“No,” Jiri shot back. “Did you tell Isao?”

He had not and, now that Jiri mentioned it, Toshiro had to wonder why not. “No,” he replied truthfully. “It just never occurred to me to say anything.”

But the more he sat there, thinking about it, the more he realized that he kept silent about the rally – and seeing the girl – because he was embarrassed by it. From what little he had heard, the rally itself seemed silly, right down to the odd red spider image, or whatever that was supposed to be, attached to the onstage curtains. Who could believe such things?

He was also hesitant to say anything about the girl because, well, he had no way of knowing if she would be interested in him, or if he would get shot down in the first thirty seconds. This was not something Toshiro really wanted his closest friends to know about until after it had been decided, one way or another. If even then.

But for Jiri to come here, and with that intense look on his face, could only mean that this was going to be another of his “fad-du-jour’s” as Hugo nicknamed them. Before this, he had dabbled in several of the clubs based on campus, along with meditation, yoga and holistic healing. Rowing for the crew team was the only thing he had actually stuck with, and that was only because he, Isao and Hugo kept insisting that he stay with them.

Toshiro sighed. This fad might prove to be a little more painful to listen to him talking about than the others, he thought as he watched today’s speakers take their places on the stage. To his surprise, Dean Charnock, from his own engineering department, joined the group.

Toshiro tried to think back, but did not recall seeing him there last time. Then again, Toshiro had been so busy looking at that girl that he really did not remember seeing anyone else at all.

As the final speakers took their places, those coming in quickly found places to sit. Those who could not, once all of the seats had been taken, were forced to stand in the back.

“Friends and fellow comrades,” began the first man to speak, “allow me to welcome you here today …”

At that moment, Toshiro spotted her as she entered through a side door. She shifted her heavy bag from one arm to the other in an obvious attempt to get comfortable for the entire time that she would be standing. Toshiro leaned over into the aisle and waved, trying to catch her eye every time it looked as though she was looking in his direction.

“… to ask everyone to please rise …”

In getting up, Toshiro waved to her again and then indicated his seat. She blinked at him, then pointed to herself, then at his chair. He grinned and nodded. Taking advantage of everyone standing, the girl came over and switched places with Toshiro.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered to him, her relief at being able to put her bag down evident on her face.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, then followed her lead as she snapped to attention with near military precision and began to repeat what the speaker was saying.

Toshiro made his way to the back just as the recitation ended and the first guest speaker stood.

At that meeting, Toshiro did not pay all that much attention to what anyone was saying either; he was too busy staring at the girl to whom he had given his seat and who kept giving small glances back at him whenever there was a break between speakers.

She was interested, he thought joyfully. She was looking at him! And that was enough to convince him to go back.

* * *

It took him another three meetings before he was able to speak to her again, to get her name and ask if they could grab a coffee after a rally. At the coffee shop, they began to talk in earnest.

Deena frowned. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t mind having someone step over you just because of who they are or the fact that they could afford to do it, even if it’s something that you earned?”

“Of course not,” Toshiro denied. “If someone works hard and is deserving of a position, then they should, by all rights, get that position over someone who has a lot of pull and very little else.”

“And that’s what Galactor is willing to give everyone, an equal chance,” Deena argued. “What they are not willing to do is let people slide on someone else’s ambitions.”

“But are they, really? I mean, there’s a hierarchy within every organization, from schools to companies to governments, even within families …”

“Well, of course, there has to be a system in place,” she acknowledged with a toss of her head, her short bobbed hair swinging with the movement, “and Galactor’s system is the best one to take over from these arrogant asses who run our governments now. At least Galactor believes in a system where each person makes their own fortune. As it stands now, we’re all dependent upon luck or fate or who you know.”

Toshiro frowned in thought. “ ‘Never bother about your comrade’,” he softly quoted.

“That’s right,” Deena said with a nod of her head. “You are not responsible for what anyone else does, or doesn’t do, just as they are not responsible for you. Everyone has gotten so lazy these days. No one wants to do anything for themselves; they all just expect to be handed things without actually working for them. You help someone out, then they will always expect help. In fact, they come to rely on it and, after a while, they will not feel compelled in the least to lift a finger to help themselves. They will also begin to think of such help as their right and privilege; what the world owes them for simply having been born into it. Better that every single person in society knows that there are no easy ways out, no willing sap to just give them everything they want. And, in the end, we will all get what we have rightly earned and justly deserve.”

This last struck a nerve with Toshiro. She was absolutely right about that. He had seen many of their class mates act without thought, always expecting someone else to clean up their messes. And just listening to the jobs and careers that they expected to get fresh out of college proved that they did not plan to work their way up, but instead, expected someone to just hand it to them, simply because they showed up.

“And you really think that Galactor would be able to change that?”

“Everything would necessarily change, don’t you think?” she asked, coyly dropping her gaze, then glancing up at him through her lashes. “With Galactor in power, everyone would get only what they work for, what they truly deserve. No handouts, no giveaways, no free rides, finally freeing up those who have supported them for years, and they will be able to stand up and throw their oppressive weight off their backs once and for all.”

Toshiro smiled at her vehemence. “You make a compelling argument. Soon, you’ll be one of the rally speakers.”

“That is an honor of which I can only dream,” she replied softly, earnestly. They fell quiet for a moment, then she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Will you be going to the next meeting?”

“Oh, ah, well, I was actually kind of hoping we could see each other before then,” Toshiro shyly admitted, as he nervously turned his coffee cup in circles between his fingers. Deena laid a hand on his, stopping the action. When he looked up at her, she gave him a full smile.

“I’d love that.”

* * *

The weeks that followed had gone by so fast, they seemed hardly more than a blur, leaving Toshiro to wonder if it had really happened, or if it was just something that he had dreamed.

Deena Dillen took up most of his thoughts then, Toshiro remembered, staring at the curtains that hung on the room’s only window. He came alive at the times when they were together and thought about only her when they were not.

His interest in exercise and crew practice had vanished. All that existed for him was the incredible Deena. Who only talked of Galactor.

He should have realized it then, he knew, and he did now, looking back.

But then ... at that time ... she held him in such thrall, that there was no turning away. Not even his friends could break the spell, though they tried. He seemed to vaguely recall several times when they pleaded and cajoled him into joining them for something or other, but he steadfastly turned them down. The only one he wanted to see was Deena.

Toshiro did not remember anything from those last weeks of classes; in fact, he did not even remember attending, though he must have. Didn’t he?

Or was that something else that Galactor had ‘fixed’ for him?

It was not until that last meeting, Toshiro pinpointed, when everything was turned on its head and his life was never the same again.

* * *

The air was almost crackling with anticipation, with everyone speaking in low, excited tones. This was to be the day when the one who would lead Galactor would personally and publicly address them. Deena was practically bouncing in her chair as she sat beside Toshiro, her enthusiasm equally matched by Jiri, who sat on the other side him.

“I cannot believe that he’s actually going to be here,” she squealed for what Toshiro believed to be the thousandth time since they had arrived and sat down. “My parents saw him at the annual BC rally once and they said he was amazing, simply breathtaking.”

“I can believe it,” Jiri seconded. “From what I’ve heard from other people who’ve seen him, they say he’s quite a sight to behold. That once he starts speaking, it’s electric.”

The rally started as they always did, with the pledge to Galactor, but this time, there were no others up on the stage. Just a single stand with a microphone. Then the lights dimmed and the curtain began to rise. Toshiro could hear Deena’s sharp intake of breath as the outline of someone detached from the purple behind the curtain and stepped forward.

And it took everything in Toshiro not to laugh. This was the one who was to lead Galactor? A man dressed in purple with a mask and a flowing cape? With long, pointed ears and a gold star shape down the long, pointed nose, he looked more like he fell out of a comic book than someone who existed in real life. Were they really serious?

But they were. He glanced at Jiri, who stood stock still, his face pale, his eyes wide and staring. He was, Toshiro realized, completely under the spell of this man. A look to his right and he could see that Deena, too, was transported merely by his presence alone.

And as the one named Berg Katse began to speak, Toshiro found that he could not turn away. He held his breath along with everyone else to listen to what this man had to say … and, to his amazement, what he said made complete sense to Toshiro.

“We of Galactor have come together to finally stand as one,” Katse began, then paused a moment before continuing. “The time has come for Galactor to claim its right and rescue the people, the land … the entire Earth! … from the greedy and grasping clutches from those currently in governments so that a new power can rise up for the benefit of all!”

As he spoke, he made wide-sweeping gestures with his arms, as if to encompass them all, to take them all under his protection.

“Too long have those in power sucked the systems dry. Look to the history books and you will see that all forms of government have been tried … and all have failed. But Galactor will not fail because we who are Galactor will not succumb to the same pitfalls and mistakes that so plagued those down through history. We have distilled what works, we have studied what failed, and we know how to continue so that once Galactor is established throughout the planet, there will be no failure, only success!”

Toshiro shivered at Katse’s intensity. In fact, all around them the audience seem to have been hypnotized. Toshiro’s eyes went back to the figure in purple and red, who had paused in his speech.

For some inexplicable reason, although the audience squashed into that room had to number in the hundreds, Toshiro almost felt as though Katse knew that he, Toshiro personally, had looked away from him for just that split second. Toshiro looked straight at him and could feel those blank green eyes boring at straight him as Katse continued his speech. It was as though Katse spoke only to Toshiro, as thought there was no one else in the room.

And Toshiro wanted nothing more than to prove himself worthy of such attention.

“Today is the day honor is restored to us ...” Katse continued, gesturing wildly with his arms.

Several shouts erupted from the audience.

“Today is the day we proclaim victory over those who would happily see us fail ...”

“Yeah!”

“Now is the time we come together and stand as one ...”

“YEAH!”

“For the glory of Galactor!” Katse finished.

The audience went wild with cheering. Never had Toshiro felt so exhilarated and enervated. He felt like he could conquer the world.

“Are you ready to give yourself to Galactor and take the oath of the Galactor soldier?”

“YEAH!”

“We vow as soldiers of Galactor ...”

As one, everyone in the audience repeated the oath as Katse led them.

“... to do all that is evil against those who would do evil to us, with no consideration for our own lives, for Galactor will protect and care for us, in loyalty to Galactor from this moment forward!”

With his fisted right hand over his heart, Toshiro said the words as loudly and exuberantly as Deena and Jiri.

He was now a full-fledged member of Galactor.

* * *

“So,” Isao said, rubbing his hands together and looking expectantly around the table, “who’s up for coming with me to deliver the equipment to the test site?”

The three he addressed exchanged guilty looks at each other, but no one said anything.

“Come on, guys,” Isao whined plaintively, “I need help and you all said you would.”

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Toshiro acknowledged first, “but I have a, uh, meeting to go to.”

“Me too,” Jiri mumbled into his drink cup.

Hugo shot them both an angry look. “Don’t tell me you guys have been going back there?” When neither of them spoke, Hugo slammed a hand down on the table. “Seriously? You guys are that stupid to believe those crackpots?”

“They are not!” Jiri defended hotly, rising to his feet, fists clenched. “Perhaps if you had stayed and actually listened, instead of just trying to make fun of things, like a spoiled brat, you’d understand what their goals really are.”

“And what are they?” Isao asked before Hugo could get the words out. His head tipped to the side and his eyes narrowed. “Who are ‘they’? And going back where?”

“That nice day that you got called in,” Toshiro quickly explained, “we stumbled into a meeting rally and listened to what they had to say.”

“What kind of meeting rally? What’s the group’s name?”

Toshiro and Jiri exchanged a nervous look. Neither wanted to be the first to say the name aloud.

Instead, Hugo answered for them. “That oddball group that calls themselves Galactor.”

“Galactor?” Isao repeated, his eyes going wide. He looked straight at Toshiro. “You’re actually getting mixed in with them?”

“Why?” Toshiro hedged, turning it back on Isao. “What would you know about it? Have you ever been to one of their rallies?”

Isao pressed his lips together, taking time to frame an answer instead of just blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted, “but, Toshiro, I’ve heard some things about them. Some really, uh, not nice things. From what I’ve heard, they aren’t a group you really want to get in too deep with. I mean, we’re not talking the chess club or ballroom dancing, or the Anachronistic Society here. Those people are hard-core weird.”

“It isn’t weird to want a better society,” Jiri shot back, unable to refrain any longer, “and they have the viable plan to do it. I don’t know about Toshiro here, but I can see the wisdom in what they’re saying. Look around you. Look at the news. Our society is falling apart and has been for decades. Politicians are just in it for themselves, people don’t care about each other, everything’s all disconnect and disharmony. With the one true ...”

“Stop!” Isao demanded, a fury lighting sparks in his eyes. “I don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna hear. I know what I know and that’s enough.” He turned to Toshiro. “Seriously, man, listen to him. You want to become brain washed into something that some guy thought up?”

A stab of guilt lanced through Toshiro at the look of worry in Isao’s eyes. “It’s because of Deena, really, that I keep going,” he confessed in a small voice.

Isao’s brow raised, but his next question was drowned out by Jiri’s ranting. He made a mental note to ask Toshiro about this girl in private.

“The tenants of our leader are not something that ‘some guy’ thought up. Ours is the true leader, the one everyone will bow to in the end. Our leader will rise up those willing to follow, and will crush those who oppose. Now, what side would you rather be on come the Dividing?” His body trembling with emotion, Jiri stopped to catch his breath. Without another word, he then turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Toshiro, Hugo and Isao to stare at one another.

Within two days, Jiri found himself on the receiving end of a large check that was nearly equal the amount of his tuition for that semester. The college bursar told him that it was discovered in the records that he had overpaid.

Though Toshiro was happy for his friend’s newfound wealth, he began to wonder if a simple mathematical error was all it was.

* * *

He hated these times. Like clockwork, every twelve hours, two nurses would show up with their own special brand of torture for him in mind.

Toshiro leaned his head back and endured the pain of the nurses cutting away the bandages at his throat in order to change them. This time, though, a doctor was also present and poked and prodded at the stitches.

“Keep changing the dressings every twelve hours,” the doctor instructed, careful not to look Toshiro in the eye. He took the chart from the nurse behind him and began jotting down notes. “I don’t like the way the edges are looking here. I want this antibiotic started, just in case it’s going towards infection.”

With a final jotting and a signing of his initials, the doctor left Toshiro alone with his two tormentors, who began the process of putting new bandages on.

He fought back the tears, though not from the physical pain of the wound.

He did this to himself and he had only himself to blame. Why didn’t he listen to Isao when he had the chance?

Because of Deena ... and the promise of something more.

* * *

Dean Charnock leaned back in his chair as he contemplated the young man before him.

“You have a very promising future, Toshiro,” he intoned, pushing his desk calendar with his fingertips to get it lined up just so with the edge of the desk.

“Thank you sir,” Toshiro said with a reflexive nod of his head. “I am honored you think so.”

“And I would hate to see something happen that would prohibit your reaching your full potential,” he said, then paused and gave a subtle tap at his collar. “Do you know what I mean?”

Toshiro blinked, then remembered. The pin. “Yes, sir,” he said, and flicked over his own collar to reveal the red Galactor pin. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Charnock smiled broadly and slid a piece of paper across the desk to Toshiro. “Good, good. I’m glad to hear it. Well, then, as long as we understand each other, I can tell you that a special internship has become available and, if you’re interested, I would be more than willing to put your name in for consideration.”

Toshiro glanced at the paper and read the description.

“Individuals with mechanical engineering background are sought as interns to help design, build and test cutting edge robotic and aviation technology. Self-motivated individuals will work on projects from beginning to end with the goal of creating world’s fastest automated robots. Individuals must be self-starters, able to work with others, and efficient. Competitive salary, benefits.”

“Sound like something you would like?” Charnock prodded.

“It sounds … wonderful,” Toshiro breathed, his eyes locked on the words ‘competitive salary.’ Most of the internships he had been offered were unpaid positions only; in order to live, he had thought that he would have to get at least one, if not two, part time jobs. To get an internship that paid him would mean he would not have to struggle along like he anticipated doing, like many of his peers would be. Instead, with a decent paycheck, he could also set aside money for his final year at university. He looked up at the Dean. “How soon would I know if I got the position?”

Dean Charnock smiled benevolently at him and tapped at his collar. “Consider it yours as of now, my boy, so you better get ready to leave. They want all new recruits to report to the training facility on BC Island by week’s end.”

“By the end of the week?” Toshiro was stunned at the news. “But what about final exams? They start next week.”

Dean Charnock waved his hand as if brushing them off. “No need to worry. It’s all been taken of care of already.”

“It has?”

“Yes,” he tapped his collar again, “it has.”

* * *

All morning, Isao watched without comment as Toshiro packed his things. Finally, he could stand it no more and tossed the book he had been reading aside.

“I can’t believe you’re really going there,” he said, a note of disdain in his voice.

“I don’t see why not,” Toshiro countered. “It isn’t as though I have any family to go home to, or even a home at all to go to, so why not? This is a good, solid position, and you’re just jealous …”

“Jealous?” Isao interrupted. “Are you crazy? What’s there to be jealous about? You don’t really know these people. How do you know what they’re telling you is really the truth? How do you know that what’s waiting for you at the end of this is truly what they say it is, or something worse?”

Toshiro calmly folded a shirt and patted it onto the stack already sitting in his suitcase. “They said that those closest to us would be cynical. You don’t have to let such feelings like jealousy destroy you. They are willing to help all those who come to them; I’m sure that they could still find you a good position, if you wanted …”

“I already have an internship, thankyouverymuch,” Isao practically sneered. “It may not pay top dollar, like yours, but working in the ISO will be an impressive line in my curriculum vitae. You don’t even know what the name of the company you’re supposed to be working for.”

Toshiro shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter at this point,” he said nonchalantly, “and besides, Dean Charnock assured me that since I plan to continue my studies to a doctorate level, I’ll be able to go through several internships, all designed so that I can become the best mechanical engineer I can be …”

“All for the sake of the lactose people,” Isao muttered under his breath.

“Gal-actor,” Toshiro corrected, “and if you cannot be respectful to the organization, then I will thank you to at least refrain from speaking about it at all.”

Isao sighed. Not that long ago, Toshiro would have laughed at that as the joke it was intended to be. Now, he took everything so seriously. Isao missed his fun-loving friend.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Isao tossed off, rising to his feet, “Any time you’re there, Toshiro, you just call me, you hear? I won’t stop you, but I won’t let you sink without a fight. You need anything … anything at all … you call me … because if you need someone to help you, we both know you’re going to call me …”

Toshiro gave him a look that made Isao shiver. “I do not anticipate needing your help, or anyone else’s. I will be looked after, I will have mentors and guidance, and, from here on out, I will not be so completely alone.”

“You weren’t before,” Isao countered, losing his patience, “and you had all of that before falling in with these people. And besides, what am I? Chopped liver? After nearly three years as a roommate and now I’m just tossed aside like a dirty sock? Thanks. Thanks a lot. I’ll remember that.”

“You should not look at this like Galactor is the enemy, Isao,” Toshiro said in a tone typically reserved for dealing with unruly children.

“Oh, no?”

“No,” Toshiro emphasized. “After all, we all want the same things … good jobs, good lives, a place to call our own … you can’t get angry with me for trying to find those things within Galactor.”

“And why not?” Isao challenged. “Especially since I think they’re full of shit.”

Toshiro spun around, slamming his fist against the wall as he did so. “That’s just your opinion,” he shot back. “Why is it just because it’s something that I believe, it’s wrong, but if it’s something you’re involved in …”

This sudden burst of violence surprised Isao, but he refused to back down now. “Like what? What am I involved in that can even compare …”

“You’re in the reserves, aren’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because it’s the military. An official, government-sanctioned group that’s been around as long as the country itself. It’s not some weird cult some egomaniac dreamed up …”

“And the government isn’t made up of egomaniacs? Watch the news some time, Isao, and tell me they aren’t the ones getting out of hand and going off the deep end. In some cases, it’s just as much a cult as anything else. And just because someone came up with a solution that may seem radical …”

“Well, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck …”

Toshiro’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Always have to take it to a childish level, don’t you? That’s your problem. You’re never serious about anything!”

“Well, I’m dead serious about this, Toshiro Oniishi,” Isao shouted back, “you are not the friend I once had. When he returns, give me a call. Until then, don’t bother.”

Toshiro breathed hard. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you at all!” he yelled back as his friend stormed out of the room.

He felt bad that things had to end this way between them. They had been such good friends, and now ….

He tucked the last shirt into his suitcase and zipped it shut.

“Hey, come on,” Jiri said as he appeared at the doorway, luggage in both hands. “You ready? I don’t want to be late.”

Perhaps, Toshiro thought with a twinge of sadness as he followed Jiri out, it was better to end things this way, though. Like Professor McCallum had told them … clean breaks make for better recoveries.

Toshiro’s first impression of BC Island resembled that of many who visited the resort island – a paradise of sand and surf, whose inhabitants had no cares or worries. The further they traveled from the public airport, however, the faster his impression changed.

Once past the vacation hot spots and tourist hotels, the scenery altered considerably. They watched as the landscape turned bleak, beautiful scenery dotted with rundown buildings, some looking on the verge of collapse, abandoned by their owners.

Or so they thought, until they looked closer and realized that there were still people dwelling within them. Toshiro and Jiri exchanged horrified looks, but said nothing. Everyone on the bus, in fact, rode in a type of stunned silence.

As they rode up to the gates of the training compound, they received their second shock of the day. This was nothing like the training film they had seen.

“This is wrong,” Jiri whispered. “This has to be a mistake.”

“Maybe this isn’t the final place,” Toshiro said hopefully. “Maybe this is just a stop-over.”

“I sure hope so ...”

But it was not. All of the newly arrived recruits were taken off the bus, names checked off lists, then separated into groups. To the relief of Toshiro and Jiri, they ended up in the same group. It was not much, but at least they still had each other.

Standing there, waiting for the remainder of recruits to be checked in, Toshiro used the opportunity as a chance to really look around. Slowly, his eyes picked out the same elements here that was in the film. Only then did he realize that that film must have been made at least ten years before, if not longer ago.

The long, low building with the rusted corrugated metal roof and rotted siding was, indeed, the same building that the film had touted to be a ‘state of art’ exercise gym. Over there, the once ‘spacious and comfortable’ recruit quarters had now fallen into disrepair, its windows boarded up.

Lines of other recruits passed them, all dressed in the same drab gray colored uniform. None of these recruits looked as happy as the ones in the film. In fact, they looked downright miserable.

Toshiro looked over at Jiri, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe it will get better,” Jiri whispered.

“Maybe,” Toshiro replied, and not wanting to voice his serious doubts on that point.

Once all of the new arrivals from their bus were accounted for, things moved fast. They suddenly found themselves stripped of their luggage, handed gray uniforms and told that they were now in the KG company.

“This is wrong,” Jiri repeated worriedly under his breath. “They must’ve put us in the wrong place, somehow.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t want to be an actual soldier,” Jiri said with a whimper. “You know I don’t like fighting.”

“Neither do I,” Toshiro tried to reassure him. But how to fix this? “We just have to wait until we see a chance to bring this mistake to the attention of whoever’s in charge. I’m sure they’ll get it straightened out.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jiri said, biting at his lower lip.

Toshiro hoped so too. As a group of captains, or, at least, those who looked like they were in charge, walked by him, Toshiro saw his chance.

“Excuse me,” Toshiro said, reaching out to detain one of the men, “but we weren’t supposed to joining any kind of military reserves. I’m taking a mechanical engineering internship and my friend here …”

“Good for you,” the man in charge sneered. “All recruits, regardless of where you’re gonna end up has to go through boot camp. Once you’re evaluated, then you’ll be given your final assignment. That’s the way it is.”

“But I was told by …”

“I don’t give a good damn about what you were told or by who,” the man snapped. The few men nearest him handing out uniforms snickered. “This is the way it is. You have a problem with that, too bad now. Now fall back!”

Instead of being one in a select group, Toshiro now found himself an anonymous face in a large crowd, so much so that his name was shortened and he himself was reduced to a number. Henceforth, he was told in no uncertain terms, he would be known as Tosh 4389Z23G.

The next several weeks passed in a blur for him, filled with physical drills, tests, and examinations. The training he had done on the crew team served him well, and he found that he was in better shape than most of the other recruits.

Dinners were likewise disappointing affairs, with something swimming in a brown gravy sitting besides a pasty white blob of something that likewise had the brown gravy ladled over it. Even what looked to be green beans in a former life had been boiled into drabness.

These were not exactly the visions he had of good food and fun in the sun.

And then the routine was altered.

Lined up in their individual battalions, instead of going through the morning’s drills, their captain instead began to pass out papers to everyone.

“It’s been a long, hard road, but you’ve all done well,” he said as he handed the first man in the line a paper, “I’m proud to say that you are now an official part of Galactor armed forces, but you are by no means finished. These are your assignments; from here, you will go where indicated to receive further instruction and training from there.”

Silence fill in the large room as the first men read their assignments, and by the time the captain got to Toshiro, the room was a cacophony of whoops and cheers, moans and disappointed mutterings.

Toshiro glanced down at his paper, which contained only his number and the words “to receive flight training/pilot.”

As the captain walked by, Toshiro flagged him down.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but I was not coming here to be a pilot. I know nothing about flying …”

“And now you’ll learn,” the Captain snapped back impatiently. He tried to step away, but Toshiro stopped him.

“But I don’t want to be a pilot.”

“Do you get motion sick?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you have trouble with your vision?”

“Of course not, but …”

“Then there’s no reason why you can’t be a pilot. According to our calculations, that’s what would best suit you.”

“Except for the fact that I’m studying to be a mechanical engineer. That’s the internship I got …”

The captain sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You talk too much, you know that? You want to be an engineer, you can to do that in the cockpit. As for any ‘internship,’ this is it for now, so get used to it.”

Toshiro looked down at the paper. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad …

* * *

And it hadn’t been, he reflected, watching the older of the two nurses assigned to him taking his blood pressure. She was not as chatty as the younger one, and he liked her for that. It made him feel less compelled to want to say something, made him feel less rude in his silence for not.

He turned his mind back to his previous thoughts as the nurse finished her tasks.

Flying, in fact, turned out to be remarkably like sculling, only one used ailerons instead of oars. But that weightless feeling was there, that feeling of complete freedom. Of truly being alive.

The other thing that saved him was the fact that, after the first couple of weeks, he and the other new recruits were allowed out and off the training compound proper, to wander around the island at will, just so long as they returned by last call.

That was when he realized that Deena, too, was on the island, not just to visit her parents, but to stay for the summer. She was also completing her training, but every time he asked anything more specific, she became vague and hesitant. Eventually, he learned to stop asking and she seemed much happier with him then.

That was a red flag, he thought ruefully, one of many he should have caught right in the beginning that things were not what they seemed.

But they were in love …

And they had been, hadn’t they? Or, at least, he thought so. Toshiro turned this over in his mind, but before he could answer himself, the sedative the nurse had given him had begun to take hold and he slipped away without even realizing it.

* * *

With his flight instructions going so well, Toshiro was surprised one day to find that his flight training was to be cut short and he was now going to receive instructions in firearms.

“You ever fire a gun?” the gunnery captain asked when Toshiro first reported in.

“No, sir.”

“Nothing? Not even a paintball gun or BB gun?”

Toshiro felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “No, sir. Not even so much as a toy gun when I was little.”

The gunnery captain gave a hard sigh. “Fine. We’ll start you with a single-action rifle and see what you can do with it. If you can’t cut it here, though, you’re probably gonna be reassigned. Hey, Skinner,” he called out, waving to a man who wore protective goggles and ear plugs. He beckoned with his hand, “Come here.”

Skinner left his student and walked over to where Toshiro and the captain.

“Total newbie here,” the captain summed up. “Give him a taste of everything, see what suits. He’s a flyer, so I’m thinking they’re looking at him to be able fire the big stuff evenutally.”

Skinner nodded and, as the captain walked away, gave Toshiro a once-over. Skinner rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand.

“No experience at all, huh?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, no help for it but to teach you now, eh?”

He led Toshiro over to a table, set far behind the booths where individuals doing target practicing stood. As Toshiro walked along, he began to not just look at the targets, but at the ones doing the shooting. He stumbled slightly when it registered in his mind as to who was doing the shooting.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Skinner asked as he reached the table and selected a rifle from the pile that was there.

“Are those children doing target practice?”

Skinner loaded the gun and readied it. “Well ... yeah. How else do you expect them to learn how to aim and fire a weapon? We don’t want ‘em to end up like you now, do we? Here, take this.”

Still unnerved, Toshiro numbly took the gun and meekly followed Skinner to an empty booth at the end of the range.

“Look through here. See the sight? See the ball? Aim for the center of the target just above the ball. Nestle the gun to your shoulder … no, not there … yeah, like that … hold it secure with this hand ... yeah, just like that, and when you’re ready just pull the trigger. When you run outta ammo just put the gun down and hang that flag there, on that nail there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I think so.”

Toshiro braced himself and lined up his first shot ever, covering the center of the target with the ball. After a few more seconds, he tapped the trigger with his finger. Nothing happened.

With a shaky breath, he slowly squeezed the trigger hardere and was stunned when the force of the shot pushed his shoulder back and he nearly lost his balance. He looked down the range to the target. It was untouched.

Three more shots and the paper was as pristine as it had been when he first started. What was he doing wrong?

Toshiro glanced over to the booth next to him where a young boy was re-loading a small handgun. Without waiting, the boy got the new target in sight and fired several shots at once. With the exception of two shots in the yellow band, all of the boy’s bullets hit the smallest red circle around the center.

Toshiro looked down at the gun he held, then back up at the boy. That was when he realized what his mistake had been.

Cradling the rifle into his right shoulder once more, Toshiro looked at the sight, covering the red circle with the ball. Then lowered the gun so that the red circle sat atop the ball.

His next shots all found the red circle as easily as the boy’s had, and sufficiently impressed Skinner so that he was allowed to finish out the session.

After a week, they issued him his own personal handgun and he received official word that he would continue on with flight training.

* * *

At the time, he thought that it had been a step in the right direction. He had never considered being a pilot before, and certainly not a jet fighter pilot, but it suited him well. Likewise, though he had never fired a gun before, they had discovered his own natural talent for it.

What else would they have found that he did not know he had within him? The idea was a truly frightening one and one he was not sure he wanted answered.

Toshiro rubbed the blanket edge that had flipped up between his fingers. He had learned and suffered a great deal in such a short amount of time that he could barely remember the student he had been. Had he really been so naïve?

Could he really have been that stupid?

A scuffling at the doorway made him look up from his blanket contemplations. The young women offered him a bright smile.

“Hi there!” she chirped, setting down a binder and several bags on a nearby chair. “My name is Marcy and I’m here to see if we can’t start you on some therapy, okay?” She flipped open the binder, jotted down the time and his name, then looked him in the eye. “Let’s just start with some simple breathing exercises, okay?”

Toshiro watched her, but did not follow her. She frowned at him, then called up his chart.

“It doesn’t say here that you have any type of dysphagia, and no paralysis of the vocal cords has been detected,” she noted, then continued, “it also doesn’t mention any nerve damage done, and the surgery to repair your throat should not have any scarring that could affect your vocal cords,” she looked up and met his stare with an oddly cold one of her own. “You have to start using your voice, though, because if you don’t, there is a very real possibility that the folds will atrophy and you may not recover full use. Now, I know it’s probably still sore, and hurts, but you have to try.”

Why, Toshiro thought, watching her going through the breathing motions again. There was nothing left for him to say. Not now, anyway.

After another twenty minutes, the perky Marcy took the hint and left. He could only imagine the notation she had made on his chart.

Tried my best, but patient was unresponsive and uncooperative, so gave up after half an hour, okay?

He felt a tug at his lips. If he could still smile, he thought, maybe he was not as far gone as he thought himself to be.

* * *

At the end of six weeks, his initiation was completed. Finally, he would have a chance to be the intern he thought he was going to be. Now Toshiro just had to be able to prove his worthiness to the position by designing and building a simple working engine model from scratch in under a week using the criteria they had given him.

To his delight, Toshiro was also given a studio apartment of his own, rather than remaining in the recruit barracks. It was small, barely wide enough for his bed, with a corner blocked off by a curtain for the ‘kitchen,’ and a tiny bathroom. Still, it was his and he did not need to share it with anyone.

It also provided him and Deena with a place to just hang out in, to talk without her parents hovering nearby. Even better, instead of just chastely holding hands while sitting in her parents’ parlor, and just bidding good night with a small kiss on the cheek, they were able to advance their relationship to deeper kisses and heavy petting.

Though Deena still held back from him, demurring from taking their relationship to that final level, Toshiro did not mind acquiescing to her request that their relationship move at a slower pace than he would have liked. He saw the wisdom in her arguments that both of them had a lot to accomplish before they could consider that step, and there would be time enough for them to do all that they discussed and dreamed.

What was the hardest part was telling Jiri, who not only had to remain in the recruit barracks, but he also had not passed either basic training or his specialized assignment, and the possibility of his ever getting his internship was growing dimmer by the day.

“Come on, Jiri,” Toshiro cajoled, hoping to cheer up his friend. “It’s not all that bad, if you think about it.”

Jiri’s head, propped up on his fist, slid closer to the table top. “How can you even suggest that?” he moaned. “We went through everything.”

“Well, there has to be something,” Toshiro insisted. “Was anything missed?”

“No.”

“Well, then, what did you come the closest in? You were always good in crew ...”

Jiri sat up suddenly and looked at Toshiro with wide eyes. “Hey, yeah, that’s right! And they didn’t test me for anything like that. Maybe if I asked to become a part of their naval exercises, that would do it.”

“See? There you go.”

Jiri nodded his head, as excited now as he had been discouraged. “That could work, Toshiro. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

Toshiro smiled, glad he could help a friend, despite what Galactor’s Code mandated.

Within a few days, Jiri was reassigned to the naval unit and Toshiro began the task he needed to do in order to complete this next level. Things were looking good for Toshiro and were about to become even better.

* * *

“You were invited to dinner where?” Deena nearly screeched, her eyes widening.

Toshiro gave an almost apologetic shrug of his shoulder. “It wasn’t as if I had a choice in the matter. You know I would have preferred to have dinner with you …”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Deena’s mother, Jenna, immediately interjected. “To be extended an invitation to the Asakuras for whatever reason is an honor and should be treated like one, even if they are not one of the First Families …”

“Not just an honor, but a chance at making an impression on a boss that not many in your level get to make, Tosh. You must use this opportunity to full advantage …” Frank Dillen intoned, interrupting his wife.

“I can’t see why I can’t come along, though,” Deena pouted, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child. “I could mingle and chat with the women there, just as well as anyone else …”

“True, my dear,” Jenna said, petting her daughter’s shoulder soothingly, “but you do not know the true purpose of this dinner. It is possible that Tosh’s future career is to be the topic of discussion and where he will go, so, too, you will eventually follow. Remember what I’ve always told you?”

“Prepare, plan and be ready for anything, at any time.”

“Exactly,” she said, her pride in her voice. “Just be ready and you, too, will have an opportunity the same as, or better even, than Tosh.”

Deena thought this over a moment, then ran a hand through her short hair. “Well, that’s true. After all, Tosh may be noticed now because he is new, but just wait until they see what I can do now!”

* * *

Toshiro recalled the entire exchange with something close to dread as he made his way to the Asakura residence.

Why he had been selected for this dinner, along with five other interns, he could not even imagine. He certainly did not hold the honor quite as in awe as the Dillens, but then, as they so kindly pointed out, he was also still rather new here, so he would be forgiven any lapses in manners. Oddly, that thought still did not make him feel any better.

At exactly 6:30, Toshiro rang the Asakura doorbell, was admitted in by a man in a dark suit, and shown into a parlor of sorts where two of the other interns waited nervously, one perched at the edge of a stiffly stuffed chair and the other standing by the window, rocking slightly. They started at Toshiro’s appearance, but sank back into their original positions when they realized that he was not Giuseppe Asakura.

It was another ten minutes before the other two arrived and were likewise shepherded into the parlor. At exactly 7:00, Asakura himself appeared at the door, his wife behind him. Toshiro turned and stared at the man who, up until now, Toshiro only knew by reputation.

He was tall and lean, an air of predatory grace about him as he strode into the room, his casual elegance hiding the fact that his eyes missed nothing as he canvassed the room and those within it.

Only a few steps behind him was a tall, equally elegant woman in a silk sheath dress and understated pearl stud earrings, her refined features in delicate counterpoint to Asakura’s chiseled ones.

“It is a pleasure to see that you could all come,” Asakura greeted, “and I am happy to welcome you into my home. Since we all seem to be here now,” a deliberate stare at the two latecomers subtly suggesting that he had been watching them all along, “why don’t we all proceed to the dining room. There’s wine, but if anyone should prefer something else, please, just let us know.”

The six interns trailed after the Asakuras and were led into a large dining room. Each took a seat, each surreptitiously assessing the room and its furnishings.

The house and its environs were, by far, nicer than any Toshiro had ever been in during his lifetime and he felt more than a little intimidated as he took his place with the others. Fine china and silver, crystal goblets, linen napkins. It was like dining in a four-star restaurant.

And as the first course was served, the feeling was reinforced. A small salad of ‘wild greens’ with some sort of red wine balsamic dressing that Toshiro could not place was first, followed by a soup that was cream-based, but beyond that, a mystery to him.

He was grateful that, along with the wine that was poured for everyone, there was also a glass of water. Toshiro had never liked the taste of wine and preferred to stay as clear-headed as possible at the moment. The other interns, however, did not seem to have the same reservations he did and more than half had downed two glasses by the time the soup was finished.

Any hope that Asakura would announce the point and purpose of this meeting before dinner was served faded as large plates with tiny amounts of food on them, artfully arranged like miniature sculptures were brought out.

As near as Toshiro could tell, it was some sort of chop, though whether veal or lamb, he did not know, balanced atop a small scoop of what looked like yellow rice with bits of some vegetation that he could not name in it, and (by Toshiro’s count) five snow pea pods with four carrot rounds apiece, all of which were coated with some sort of garlicky sauce.

He looked around to see how the other interns were taking this and saw that only he seemed to be expecting something else. Toshiro sighed and picked up his fork, lest he be thought unsocial.

The conversation was as disappointing as the meal, and just as insubstantial. As the first bites of the food were taken, there was another round of the same type of compliments that were expressed during the first two courses.

“My compliments to your chef, Mr. Asakura …”

“This is absolutely one of the best dinners I’ve ever had …”

“This remoulade brings out the flavor of the meat perfectly …”

“This curried rice is prepared to perfection …”

“The best I’ve ever tasted …”

The only Toshiro did not offer some comment because he could not think of one that did not seem completely redundant from what had already been said and because he did not want to lie. Nothing was really to his taste, or liking; he preferred simple foods, prepared without fuss, and offered in large quantities. He idly wondered if there would be any places still open when he left that he could get an actual dinner.

Then it happened. One of the interns could not stand the pressure any more and broke.

“So, Mr. Asakura, to what do we owe this magnificent dinner?” Scott asked. A beefy young man somewhere in his early twenties, Toshiro had seen him around the compound. He was loud and outspoken, not shy in the least about calling attention to himself. It did not surprise Toshiro in the least that he would be the first speak out now.

“Your own good fortune,” Asakura replied, taking a small sip of wine.

A few of the interns snickered. Scott flushed a dark red.

“I, for one, am extremely grateful for this opportunity,” another intern, this one being the slight man with the nervous rocking habit, spoke up.

“As well you should be,” Asakura responded. This intern, too, dropped his head at the reproach. Asakura looked around the table and his eyes fell to the young man seated next to Toshiro who was just about to take a bite of food. “So, Jack, tell me, where you see yourself within the organization in five years?”

Jack froze, his lips still wrapped around his fork, his eyes wide in surprise. Everyone was now staring at him and he was acutely aware of it. Slowly, he put down the fork, tried to chew as fast as possible and swallowed hard. “Well, uh, I, uh, plan to go far in Galactor, to, uh, uh, do my best in whatever, uh, capable … capab … uh, cap .. uh, capacity, uh, that I am in then.”

“I see.”

“Well, I see myself as leading a military unit,” Scott spoke up, seeing his chance. “Always have a plan, that’s my motto …”

“Might is fine,” an intern that Toshiro did not know, and who had remained quiet up to this point said, “but you need the organizational skills to pull off …”

“... unless there is the monetary component, neither of those skills would help you in the least ...” the rocking intern interjected.

Coming here had been a big mistake, Toshiro thought as he stared forlornly at his barely touched dinner. I wonder what would happen if I just left?

As the two servers came in to clear the dinner plates, Toshiro stood up. “I’m terribly sorry, but I must excuse myself …”

“Of course,” Asakura immediately granted. “There’s a powder room down the hall, two doors on your left.”

Toshiro nodded to Asakura, then to his wife, and headed out of the dining room.

As he left, Toshiro could hear the intern pick up where he left off, obviously not wanting to give up the spotlight now that he had it.

“ … in achieving the goals being attempted by Galactor …”

Now that he was out of there, and away from the pressure, Toshiro found himself faced with a decision to make. He could wait a bit, maybe find the bathroom to take refuge in until he could pull himself together, or else he could actually leave. He dreaded telling Deena and her parents that he had failed in making a favorable impression on the Asakuras, but there was no hope for it. He just did not have it in him to play such games.

As he retraced his steps back to the front door, a sound coming from a smaller parlor caught his attention. Curious, Toshiro followed the noise. There, parked on the floor in front of a large television screen, was a child.

Of course, Toshiro remembered, it must be Asakura’s son, George.

Toshiro glanced at the boy playing the video game, then looked again. He watched George and it only took a moment before he realized that this was the same boy who had been in the booth next his on his first day at the firing range.

“You’re very good,” Toshiro complimented once the game finished. George turned around and eyed Toshiro.

“Thanks,” the boy said, then his eyes, so like his father’s, narrowed in thought. “I saw you at the firing range.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You were gettin’ pretty good at the end,” George allowed, then looked at the controller in his hands. “Wanna play?”

Toshiro sighed and gave an anguished look back towards the dining room. He was playing a game, all right, but it was far from fun. The evening was already a total loss, and if he went back to his apartment now, he knew Deena would be waiting for him, wanting to hear every detail.

May as well have some fun out of this, he thought with a shrug, and put off the unpleasantness for as long as possible.

“Sure,” he agreed, taking the second controller from George and settling himself on the floor next to the boy.

George reached over and snagged a chicken finger from a pile of them on a plate, which rested on the coffee table behind him, along with a plate of french fries.

“Want one?” he offered.

Toshiro grinned as he took one from the top. “Thanks.”

It was the best thing he ate since arriving on BC Island.

* * *

He had completely lost track of time.

He woke up with a start, the rough intake of air causing his throat to spasm in pain. Toshiro gripped the bed with both hands and waited for the throbbing to subside. He opened his eyes to see his vision watery with tears. He tried to blink them away, but still felt a trickle as one slid from the corner of his eye and coursed towards his ear.

He let it go, not caring anymore.

The curtains at the window, his only link to the outside world, had been pulled closed. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 1:12, but Toshiro had no idea if that was afternoon or middle of the night.

He looked back at the window and, for a moment, rashly considered getting up to push open the curtains himself. But just the action of lifting his head off the pillow rewarded him with renewed hurt and the room spun counterclockwise.

Toshiro let his head drop back to the pillow and closed his eyes tightly. Maybe he could will himself back to sleep and forget once more that all of this had ever happened ...

* * *

“George, where are you? Are you still up?” his mother’s voice floated into the room. “Shouldn’t you be in bed now?”

“Aww, but it’s summer, Ma,” George replied with a slight whine, barely shifting his eyes from the screen, “can’t I stay up just a little while longer?”

“And besides, he’s winning,” Toshiro added with a grin.

Katerina stepped into the room and stared at the young man on the floor next to her son. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember …”

“Tosh … 4389Z23G,” Toshiro said, stiffly rising to his feet.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a puzzled smile, “but we thought you had left.”

“Nice to see that you were not called away due to an emergency,” a male voice added from behind her. Asakura stepped into view. “It was rather dirty pool of you to leave me alone with those other fools, though.”

“Sir?” His comments caught Toshiro by surprise, his embarrassment reflected in his face at being found out.

Asakura stepped into the room and took a seat on the end of the couch. He studied the screen on the television set. “Not bad, Tosh. You held up respectably against Georgie. Not many can say that.”

“I beat you, Dad,” George boasted, placing his controller onto the coffee table next to the empty plates.

“Indeed you did, son,” Asakura said fondly, “but remember, we still have to have our re-match.”

“I know, but even then …”

“Georgie,” his mother said in a tone that young George obviously knew very well, “it’s time for bed. Say good night.”

Georgie said good night to his father first, then slanted a look up to Toshiro. “Good night,” he said dutifully, “I had fun playing against you.”

“Thank you. I had a good time, too,” Toshiro replied, “good night.”

Once George and his mother left the room, Toshiro stood there, lost in awkwardness. “I should probably get going as well ...”

“Nonsense,” Asakura said as he waved him over to a chair. “Have a seat. Since I did not get a chance to talk with you at dinner as I did with the others, I intend to speak with you now. Especially since you were the one I most wanted to speak with in the first place.”

“You did? About what?”

The corners of Asakura’s mouth lifted into a faint smile. “I have it on good authority that you are becoming one of the more promising pilots.”

“Thank you, sir,” Toshiro said with a slight bow.

“I have also heard that you are a decent marksman, but could improve in several areas.” Asakura paused, his smile deepening. “Apparently, you made quite the impression on Georgie at the firing range, but he feels that you still need more practice.”

Toshiro felt his cheeks burn at the comment. “He is correct in that assessment. I never even fired a weapon until a few weeks ago, so I still have a long way to go,” Toshiro mumbled.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, you are progressing quite well,” Asakura clarified, carefully adjusting his trouser leg so that the fabric properly broke at the crease at his knee.

“Thank you, sir.”

“One more thing,” Asakura said, his eyes narrowing with a look that seemed to burn through to Toshiro’s soul.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you not curious as to why you were invited here tonight?”

“The thought did cross my mind several thousand times,” he admitted, “but it seemed rude to ask outright.”

“So that is the only reason preventing you from asking? That it was impolite?”

Toshiro stared at him with wide eyes, his mind trying to ascertain what the older man was trying to do. “Yes ... sir?”

Asakura leaned back in the arm and placed a hand on either arm of the chair. “So you were not simply following Galactor’s Code that you do not question things?”

Shit, Toshiro swore mentally. He wanted to lie, to try to cover, but those eyes staring at him ... he was sure Asakura would see through any fib as easily as anyone could see through clear glass. “No, sir. I wish I could say that that was the primary reason, but it was not.”

Asakura nodded his head a moment. “Fair enough,” he said, then, “I know you were selected for an internship, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. In mechanical engineering. It’s what my major is, really ...”

“That’s fine,” Asakura said with a shrug, “but is that what you truly would like to pursue?”

“Sir?”

“Is mechanical engineering truly the field you wish to devote your life to as a member of Galactor?”

“I think so.”

“You think? Or you know?” Asakura pressed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. Galactor does not give second chances.”

“So I have heard, but I’m pretty sure that I would be better suited to engineering than piloting, though I will serve Galactor in whatever capacity in which I am placed.”

“Very good answer, very proper, but Tosh, let me be blunt here, if I may,” Asakura said, rising to his feet. Toshiro’s head angled up so that he would still be looking at the man’s face. “Every boss can sponsor one new recruit per cycle. The sponsored recruits would enjoy perks not available to anyone else and they would be afforded more leeway within the organization itself.”

Asakura walked over to the television and turned off both set and game unit before turning and facing Toshiro once more. “These sponsorships are not widely broadcast, but it ends up becoming publicly known anyway. Of all of the recruits that I have interviewed for this position, including those who joined us tonight for dinner, I would like to sponsor you. What do you think of that?”

“I think I would be very honored,” Toshiro replied honestly, “but I fail to see why you would to sponsor me. I mean, it isn’t as though we would really ever see each other, much less work together ...”

Asakura waved away his objections. “This has nothing to do with how much or how little we would see of each other, Tosh. I need a man I can rely on within the engineers and I would be looking to you to be that man. You, in turn, would benefit from what protection I would be able to offer you, along with any special advancement that I could provide. Do you follow?”

“Well enough,” Toshiro said, still unable to process what Asakura was telling him. “Just one thing, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose me? I mean, I just walked away from dinner just now and I ... I wasn’t like those others. I can’t, you know, do that whole ...” Toshiro’s sentence faded as his mind floundered for the right words. It was Asakura who found them for him.

“Kiss ass politics thing?” Asakura smiled. “Takes a strong stomach and the patience of Job, but some of us can manage through it, though not easily. As a matter of fact, that was one of things I liked best about you, Tosh. I’m not looking for someone who will simply tell me what I want to hear. I need someone who will tell me how it is, not how they think I want to hear it. You seem like a fellow who would do just that. You arrived exactly on time, neither early nor late, and rather than try to impress with pretension, or sink to the level of nothing more than a yes man like the rest, you excused yourself. It also goes without saying that it means quite a bit that my son seems to like you as well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, do we have a deal?” Asakura asked, holding out a hold.

“Yes, sir,” Toshiro agreed, shaking Asakura’s hand with a firm grip.

* * *

Life, after that point, Toshiro acknowledged, improved dramatically. He no longer got the truly menial tasks to do and, though he was kept busy for a greater portion of the day, he did get some time to himself every now and then.

Usually, it would happen when he was tapped to bring plans or documents from the compound into the city. If that happened, he was granted a full day’s pass and allowed to roam around at will, even after his primary purpose had been fulfilled.

Within the resort areas, it was hard to fathom anyone in want or need of anything. Vacationers, though, were carefully instructed to stay within the grounds of the resorts. The official reason was that the small island contained several forms of deadly plants and animals and, if one did not readily recognize the dangers, one could easily die from a poisonous bite or exposure within seconds.

The real reason, Toshiro found as he weaved in and around the city and its environs, was that, while Galactor eagerly took the tourists’ money, they jealously guarded their own secrets. Outside of the city limits proper, manufacturing plants dotted the interior landscape of the island, with large-scale military-type exercises being played out across the desert-like conditions in between the factories.

Toshiro thought back to one such day, when he had been called upon to deliver some documents to one of Galactor’s architects. The man and his family were staying at one of the resorts and Toshiro was more than delighted to make the trip.

It was a nice, sunny summer day and it called to his youthful exuberance for life. So it was that, instead of taking the most direct route into the resort area, Toshiro decided to point his moped left instead of right, so that he could enjoy the travel just that much longer.

It seemed odd to him that the street this section, just on the outskirts of the city, were almost deserted at this time of day. As he rode through, the elderly men and women who usually sat on their front steps, talking, were absent and no children played on the sidewalks. There were no casual shoppers, no mothers taking their babies for a noon-time walk before their naps. No one.

As he rounded a corner, Toshiro heard yelling and caught sight of several dark, unmarked cars blocking off a street. Beyond the cars, he could just barely see a group of men standing in a tight circle.

Curious, Toshiro parked his bike and went to investigate. Cautiously, he sidled along one side of a building and peered around the corner until he could see what was happening.

A circle of six or seven Galactor officers stood around a man who was on his knees in the middle of the street, his hands bound behind his back. Toshiro gasped as one officer raised his steel-toed booted foot and kicked the man twice in the side.

“Tell us,” he demanded.

“Nothing ... to tell,” the man protested, his body curling in pain to the side that had been kicked.

“We know you have it, so where is it?” another officer said, delivering several punches to the man’s back.

“I have nothing!” he insisted, now rocking in agony.

Toshiro was horrified, not only because this man was being beaten, but also because, as he looked around, Toshiro could see that this scene was being played out before the neighborhood, for people who hid behind closed doors, opened just wide enough for them to see. Drawn curtains likewise fluttered as those behind them watched. Yet no one helped.

Just as he moved with the idea of stopping the beating, Toshiro paused in thought. Suppose this man deserved it? Suppose he had done something that these officers were well within their rights to punish him for?

The sudden thought swayed him, and now Toshiro did not know which side was in the right and which the wrong. All he could do was watch with the rest of them.

But he could not. What played out before him was like a gruesome scene in a horror film and it was something he could not bear.

“Do you still proclaim your innocence?” the officer who seemed to be in charge demanded once more.

The man whimpered. “Yes. I did not betray Galactor ...”

“So you are saying that it was someone else who perpetrated those crimes against the Galactor organization?” the second officer demanded, his foot raised, ready to kick out.

“Yes.” He received several more kicks to his already injured side.

“Well, then if it was not you, then it must’ve been someone else in your household, then?” the third officer yelled out, delivering a series of kicks to the man’s other side.

“Bring them out!” the first officer yelled, and Toshiro’s eyes widened as a woman and three children were led, handcuffed together, into the street.

“No! No! There was no one else! Leave them alone!” the man cried, frantically struggled against the bonds that secured his wrists. “They don’t know anything! They didn’t do anything!”

“But you just said that you were not the one who did take those things, but we know that someone in your household did,” the second officer reminded him.

“Just tell us where you hid them!” the first officer demanded, ignoring their cries, “admit everything or you will see them die one by one before your eyes ...”

Toshiro shook his head and let the tears that he did not cry that day flow now. He should have helped them. He should have at least tried.

But, at the time, he did not know the circumstances. Who would he have helped? It was possible that man and his family were true criminals against Galactor and if he got himself involved, he would have instantly been branded a criminal as well.

Do not bother with your comrades. All you have to do is follow your orders faithfully ...

It was one of the first tenets in Galactor’s Code, and one that was supposed to be followed to the letter.

Toshiro tasted the bile that rose in the back of his throat. There were many things he did not agree with, even at beginning, and that one was always the hardest for him. If someone needed help, his help, he wanted to give it, not turn his back on them.
Terrified of what might happen next, Toshiro quickly returned to where he had left his bike, and, just he reached it and heeled up the kickstand, he heard several more blows being landed, cries that ended abruptly, and then a silence that was even heavier on his soul than the screams had been.

A few days later, he saw a small paragraph in the newspaper that a family from that section of town had been taken to the hospital, where they had died within hours of each other. It only caught Toshiro’s eye because a photograph of the family had appeared as well and he recognized the man as the one who was being beaten in front of his family that day.

The official reason of their deaths was severe influenza. The only purpose of the article was to warn people in that section to be careful, lest they contract the same illness as they did and perish the same way. A lesson had been taught that day, but it had nothing to do with the effects of getting the flu.

Toshiro still had nightmares of that day.

That, he decided, was when things began to change for him. He saw the cruelty behind the smiles, he saw the pain in the eyes of those who cheerfully greeted the tourists. It was all fake, all of it, right down to the gaily painted buildings that were rotting from within.

She walked into the room with a purposeful stride, aware of the ringing sound her boots made against the tile floor. Then she realized who she had been summoned to see and froze in her steps altogether. Deena had been expecting one of the captains, not the Devil Star 1 herself.

This was more than Deena could have ever hoped, her eyes drinking in the tall, lean form of the woman who stood before her. Devil Star 1 was even more impressive up close than she had been when Deena last saw her across the large gymnasium where the last Devil Star meeting had been.

This was the woman she longed to be like, Deena thought with a sigh. To be so cool, so detached, and yet always, always, know what was going on and be able to catch the enemy unawares and score a triumph for Galactor …

“Why do you hesitate, child?” Devil Star 1 asked, her back still to the room and Deena, as she stood staring out a window that afforded the best skyline view of BC Island’s largest city. Deena could see Devil Star 1’s reflection in the glass flare as she lit the cigarette she held, then disappear into the smoke she breathed out.

“My apologies. I was not expecting to be called before you personally,” Deena said, bowing her head in her humility. “It is an honor that I am not worthy of.”

At that, Devil Star 1 turned, a near gleeful smile on her thin lips, her eyes sparkling in amusement at the awe that her mere presence inspired in this girl. She ran her free hand through her long blonde ponytail, swept to the side and held in place by a modified red throwing star.

“I have heard many things about you, Deena,” she said, thrilling to the girl’s sudden gasp, her head snapping up in surprise, eyes wide. Then her head dropped again, just as quickly.

“I am honored for your attention,” Deena said with a small bow. “I only hope that I have proved myself deserving.”

“You have not only proved yourself,” Devil Star 1 confirmed, “but I have called you here for a special task.”

“A .. a task?” Deena repeated, her head rising up to look at Devil Star 1, eyes shining with anticipation. “Only say it and it shall be accomplished.”

“Your enthusiasm is admirable, Deena,” Devil Star 1 complimented, pushing her pony tail to the side, “and I can only hope that it will serve you well now.” Devil Star 1 paused then, wanting the girl to be primed and eager. As she studied the girl’s face, she was not disappointed. Then she waited just a little bit longer before speaking again. “It is my understanding that you know a certain recruit by the name of Tosh, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Deena said, “but that can end, if Galactor so wishes. Or do you want me to eliminate him? I can, it’s not a problem …”

Devil Star 1’s mouth lifted in a dangerous smile. “Perhaps, in time, it will come to that, Deena, but for right now, I would rather that you to keep close to him.”

“Close? How close?”

“As close as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Deena agreed, “so you want me to keep an eye on him on his off-hours, then?”

“Yes, that is part of it. First and foremost, I want you to watch where he goes and what he does, and in particular, to whom he speaks.”

Deena gave Devil Star 1 a querying look, but knew better than to voice a question as to why. One did not question Galactor; one just accepted one’s orders. Instead, she asked, “And is there any particular information that I should look for?”

“Yes,” Devil Star 1 purred, pleased with the girl’s attitude and demeanor thus far. “I have it on good authority that he may be called to help someone defect from Galactor. I know who, what I need to know is when and how.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Deena said, “and when I find out, to whom and how do I relay such information?”

“It will all pass through me,” Devil Star 1 decided on the spur of the moment, “so you can contact me directly. I will program a number into your cell phone that you will be able to reach me at, regardless of time of day. Do you understand?”

“Understand and obey,” Deena affirmed as she handed Devil Star 1 her cell phone.

Devil Star 1 chuckled in her throat. It was an ominous sound that made Deena’s blood go cold.

How fabulous was this woman, Deena thought, deciding there and then that when she returned back to her own room, she would try to emulate that laugh, those piercing looks …

“Very good,” she said approvingly, tapping in the numbers and handing the phone back to Deena, “and while you are so close to him, do what you can to keep his mind occupied.”

“Occupied?”

“He is good soldier material, and would serve Galactor well, save for the fact that he thinks – and talks – too much. If he had a distraction, it is not likely that he would spend a great deal of time pondering other things. Use what you have to keep him happy, Deena, and do what you must. See this as an opportunity to practice your skills to strengthen Galactor’s hold on him.”

“I will make sure that he will not want to leave Galactor … ever,” Deena assured her, giving a small bow.

“Do all that I ask of you, and I will make you a full-fledged Devil Star,” Devil Star 1 promised.

“I will! I won’t let you down!” Deena blurted out in her excitement. “He won’t know what hit him by the time I’m done. There’s nothing I want more than to be a Devil Star!”

“Go then, child,” Devil Star 1 ordered, “and do your best. I have full confidence in you.”

* * *

Toshiro was late getting back to his apartment, and was mildly surprised to see a light on in the window from the sidewalk. He did not remember leaving anything turned on. Cautiously, he approached the door, slid the key in, and turned the knob. With one hand, he pushed open the door while standing to the side.

“Tosh?” a voice called out. A female voice. “Is that you?”

With a sigh of relief, Toshiro stepped through the door with a smile on his face.

“Deena, you gave me a scare. I didn’t think you were coming over tonight. Didn’t you say that you had some meeting or other to attend and that you would be too tired?”

“I did,” she answered as the bathroom door swung open, “but I was able to get out of it … just for you.”

Toshiro’s mouth fell open at the sight of her framed as she was by the doorway. A black mist of a nightgown, which was the only thing she wore, barely grazed the tops of her thighs and clung to her body as she walked towards him. The sway of her hips mesmerized him and the day’s tiredness was quickly forgotten.

She closed the door behind him and locked it, then put a finger to her lips and smiled. “So, what would you like first? Dinner … or dessert?”

Toshiro swallowed hard, unable to remove his eyes from her body. At her question, though, he blinked and, for the first time since entering the room, realized that it was lit not by the lamp in the corner, but by the flames of numerous candles that she had strategically placed around the room. On the small table at the end of his bed, Toshiro could see covered plates of food.

His stomach rumbled. He was hungry, in more ways than one.

Deena sidled up to him and draped one arm over his shoulder as she began to unbutton his uniform jacket with her free hand.

“Here,” she said, “let me help you out of those clothes while you decide.”

With the coat open, she began to run a hand across his t-shirted chest. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, then opened them to find that when he looked down at her face, he could also see through the negligee she wore. He groaned as one appetite edged out the other. Deena gave a throaty laugh and, taking his hand into hers, led him towards the bed.

“Why don’t we just sit down for a bit?” she suggested, sinking onto the bed. Toshiro followed, his eyes unable to see anything beyond Deena’s body and that little black piece of gauze that barely covered it. Without even realizing he was doing it, he reached out and began to stroke her bare thigh with his hand.

“Ooo,” she purred, arching her back so that he would have a better view of her chest. “That feels niiiiiice.” She watched his reactions through her downturned lashes, pleased at how well this was going.

He was such a simple man, she thought as she slid closer to him, until she was nearly sitting on his lap. But that worked all to the best advantage for her. At this rate, she would be a Devil Star in no time.

She dropped her gaze from his eyes to his mouth and studied his wide, generous lips, so quick to smile, and reached up to place her fingertips at the side of his jaw. Never taking her eyes from his lips, until she closed her eyes, she leaned in and placed her mouth on his. His quick inhalation of breath was cut off and she knew she had caught him by surprise. She chuckled as he quickly gave in to the kiss, eagerly responding with nips and licks of his own.

Then, for the glory of Galactor, she made Toshiro forget there was a world at all outside of that little room.

* * *

Toshiro watched with sympathy as Tonde, a third-year recruit, struggled with the technical components of the engine. The man’s mind was obviously not completely on the task before him. Not wanting to see the man hurt, Toshiro quickly put the finished touches to the assembly of his own motor and stepped over to help.

“What’s going on?” he asked casually.

Tonde whacked the engine with the screwdriver he held. “Piece of shit won’t start. I don’t know why …”

“Let me take a look,” Toshiro offered quietly, not want to draw attention to them. He glanced from the specs Tonde had drawn up to the actual engine itself, and immediately spotted the discrepancy. “Here’s the problem, you have these wires crossed.” He took the screwdriver from Tonde and made the repair.

Just as Toshiro stepped back to his own place, he noticed the floor manager beginning his rounds. Each engine was tested for its ability to start on the first try, to continue running for at least five minutes, and, of course, not to overheat or otherwise fail.

They waited, as the manager approached, each machine before them marked with either an ‘X’ meaning that the engineer was to go back to the drawing board, or else passed, in which case a three-day leave was granted as a reward. It also meant that the chosen engineers would be moved up the ranks and begin their true internships.

Toshiro prayed for the pass; to finally have time where he could just rest; not having to report to the airfield at 4 am, nor go to the firing range directly after work, would be a welcome respite and he was tired.

Most of all, though, he wanted to be able to tell Deena that he had succeeded and would be moved up to the next level. Promotions meant a great deal to her, he knew, and she always spoke of wanting to rise high in Galactor. This would prove to her like nothing else that he, too, was as serious as she, and Toshiro wanted nothing more than to please her.

He held his breath as the manager flicked on his machine and exhaled with relief as it started without any problem. As it purred along, Toshiro handed the manager his specs, which were reviewed against the actual machine itself.

“You changed the intake valve,” he said, eyes narrowing, finger pointing to the item in question.

“Yes, sir,” Toshiro replied immediately. “It needed to be altered slightly from the original concept in order to achieve better air-to-fuel ratio and a more efficient flow to the cylinders.”

“Mmmm. You also changed the piston housing.”

“Yes, sir,” Toshiro admitted. “That was so two more cylinders could be added, improving the overall power of the engine once in use.”

“Mmmm.”

A few more minutes and the manager tossed the specs on the table. At the end of five minutes, the engine was switched off and the manager flicked a wrist to his assistant as he moved on to Tonde’s engine, which he switched on the second he could reach it. It sputtered to life, though ran unevenly.

As the assistant, who Toshiro recognized as being called 23482R90G, but who was really known as Gene by his friends, handed Toshiro his pass, a loud crash turned their heads. Everything in the factory came to a standstill as everyone stopped to look.

“Piece of shit from you again, Tonde,” the manager growled. “That makes it the third time now.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time, I promise …”

The manager backhanded Tonde across the mouth. “You’ve promised that before – three times before, in fact -- and look where that’s gotten us! Clean up this mess and then report to the station house.”

“No, sir, please! I beg you,” Tonde cried out, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth, as he sank to his knees, “please, just one more chance.”

“You’ve had more chances than cats have lives,” the manager replied coldly, “and you’ve come to the end of your luck.”

Without acknowledging Tonde’s cries, the manager and Gene moved on, and started the next motor.

Toshiro glanced down and watched as Tonde, on his hands and knees, began to pick up the pieces of what used to be his engine, his entire body shaking as he did so. Slowly, Toshiro sank down and began to help him.

“Don’t,” Tonde said savagely, “just leave me alone, lest you be tarred with the same brush.”

“What’s wrong?” Toshiro asked in a low voice, concealed by the loud rattling of the engine now running. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been distracted for a while now.”

Tonde sat back on his heels and wiped the mix of blood, tears and mucus off his face with a single swipe of his sleeve. “Not now. Later. But not now.” He tossed a look over his shoulder to make sure that manager and assistant were not watching. “Walk with me to the station house, then?”

“Sure.”

* * *

That walk seemed to be the longest of Toshiro’s life. In the brief time that it took them to walk from one end of the compound to the other, Toshiro saw the mistakes, the errors in judgment, he had made, and it confirmed everything he had suspected and more.

Though Tonde and his wife had come to the Galactor compound willingly, the longer they stayed, the more they realized that things were not quite as they had thought it would be. When their son was born, the high-ranking Galactor officials displayed quite an interest in the baby. At first, they did not think much about it; like all doting parents of a first child, they, too, thought their child to be wondrous and special.

Then, as he grew, came the notices, dictating to them what they would, and would not, teach their child.

“The final straw,” he said miserably, “was the notice we received a month or so ago that if we wished our son to have any kind of hope for advancement at all, then it depended upon our success within the organization.” He turned anguished eyes to Toshiro. “My son’s future depends upon what I do now, and you’ve just seen what’s happened. I can’t think straight anymore. All I keep thinking is that my son will suffer because I failed. And now, with another child on the way … what’s going to happen to them? I can’t take the pressure any more … I can’t …”

Their steps took them to the edge of the shadow cast by the station house where they stopped for a moment.

“They’re going to send me away,” Tonde said, dully contemplating the building before him as a condemned man would consider an electric chair. “They’ll send me somewhere to train as a foot soldier. Or, if I’m lucky, I’ll just be given an assignment as a menial worker, trapped in a 15 hour day with no hope of seeing anything better.”

“They would do that?” Toshiro gasped. “Are you sure they would send you away?”

“Oh, maybe not right away, but they will, in the end. I know it. I’ve seen them do it. In order to get what they can out of me, they will hold not being able to see my wife or our children over me. They will simply have me disappear one day, and they will tell her the usual things. That she must rely on them. That I was unfaithful to her and left with a mistress. And it will all escalate when our second child is born.” Tonde dropped his gaze and swallowed hard. Tears tracked down his cheeks. “Two children born into this organization that promised freedom and a better way of life, but they never said for who. Did you ever notice that? All of that talk, but never once did they say who would receive such benefits.”

“Be careful, Tonde,” Toshiro warned, glancing around as a feeling of unease trickled down his spine. That family he had seen that terrible day flashed through his mind. He did not want the same thing to happen to Tonde and his family, but what could he do? “What you are saying borders on traitorous …”

“I don’t care,” Tonde cried out with a sob, sinking to his knees. “I want to leave. I want to go home. I want us all to just go home and have everything go back to the way it was before we came here. This isn’t what I thought it would be; this isn’t what I bargained for … not for me, and certainly not for my children.”

Any time you’re there, Toshiro, you just call me, you hear? I won’t stop you, but I won’t let you sink without a fight. You need anything … anything at all … you call me …”

Isao’s words echoed through Toshiro’s mind, but he pushed them aside. Isao was the last person on the planet he wanted to think about right now.

“Is there anyone you know, anyone away from here who could help you get out?” Toshiro asked in a low voice, bending as though to help Tonde up. The man shook his head.

“No. No one. When we left, we burned our bridges. If anyone remembers us still, it is not with the best of thoughts or good wishes.”

Toshiro sighed, remembering the encouragement they had all received to break with anyone who opposed Galactor. Either you were one of them … or you were an enemy. There was no in between.

“Just try your best. We are all here to give all that we are to Galactor,” Toshiro said, defaulting to the platitudes he had heard in those early meetings, “and they will make sure that everything is taken care of.”

Maybe, he thought, reminding Tonde of their oaths to Galactor would help keep the man from doing something he would regret later. The words sounded hollowed, even to him as he spoke them, but he saw nothing else that he could do.

“Look,” Toshiro said quickly, rising up as Tonde struggled to his feet. “Just go in there and do whatever it is you need to. Surely it can’t be as bad as you think …”

“ … you haven’t been around as long as I have …” Tonde replied glumly, his head lowered. Toshiro could see the man’s tears edge his jaw and fall like rain to his tunic.

“Even if they do reassign you,” he tried again, “they will probably let your family go with you, you’ll see….”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid they will do,” Tonde said in a flat tone. “There is nothing left for us. We have come to the end of our road, all because of me. How could I have let them down like that? How can I possibly face them now?”

“It will all work out in the end, you’ll see. Please, just don’t do anything rash,” Toshiro said as he turned to leave. A movement at a window caught his eye and Toshiro realized that they had been under surveillance. He quickly ran through their conversation in his mind; he didn’t say anything that could be misinterpreted, had he?

He couldn’t remember.

* * *

He wished that he had heard the news alone, but as it was, Toshiro was with Deena and her parents when he found out, somewhere between the salad and the pasta, as Dillen casually mentioned a man named Tonde had been killed at the outskirts of town.

“Heard about it at lunch today,” Dillen elaborated as he forked out some tomatoes onto his plate. “The official report has it that he had aggressively fought, resisting his new assignment. The guards had no choice but to fire on him.”

“That’s terrible,” Toshiro gasped.

“True,” Dillen agreed. “The man’s conduct was absolutely reprehensible and he deserved to be shot and not just for resisting. From the rumors I heard, he was also attempting to plan a desertion of some sort ...”

“Such unnecessary desperation ...” Jenna tsked.

“Pitiful, really,” Dillen said with disgust. “I can’t believe that he really thought that we would not have found out, or known about it. His learning curve was not that steep, though, so he is not a great loss to us.”

“Yes, if he was not strong enough to merely go through the channels of training, he never would have been able to hold up his fair share within the organization,” Jenna observed.

“What will happen to his family now?” Toshiro asked.

Three sets of eyes blinked at him.

“His family has been dispatched as he himself has been,” Dillen responded matter-of-factly. “May I have the pasta, please?”

Toshiro felt the blood drain from his face as he numbly handed over the bowl. “What? But why?”

“Really, Tosh?” Deena asked with a giggle, “you really have to ask?”

Dillen’s frown deepened as he stared hard at Toshiro. “Why don’t you enlighten the young man, Deena?”

Deena took a breath and straightened up in her chair, like a young child called upon in a classroom. “The weaknesses of the parents are often found in their young,” she recited, “so if there is discovered a weakness in the parent, not only shall the parents be eliminated, but so, too, shall the offspring lest they become a burden to the organization with their ills and dysfunctions.” She glanced over to her father, who gave a curt nod of approval.

“In short,” she finished with a cold smile, “it is a case of survival of the fittest and Galactor will survive with the fittest at all costs.”

“So let that be your lesson for tonight, Tosh dear,” Jenna added. “Would anyone like more bread?”

Staring at his plate, his appetite gone, Toshiro tried to reason this out.

Maybe there were other, extenuating circumstances, he thought hopefully. After all, Dillen had said what he repeated now was merely rumor. And Toshiro could not believe that Galactor would so wantonly kill children, even after what he had seen that day.
Toshiro swallowed hard. Surely, Tonde and that other man were just exceptions and not the norm ....

* * *

It was one of those surreal moments when everything is going on as normal and then, in a split second, everything changes.

For Toshiro, it came as he was delivering a set of plans from the mechanical engineering department to the tech department for review.

As he crossed the compound, Toshiro fell into step with some guys who had been in basic training with him. Several, he could see from their uniforms, had remained as foot soldiers, while one other had moved up to intern, as Toshiro himself had.

“ … still can’t believe even he’d be that stupid,” one of the finished saying as Toshiro joined them.

“I know, right?”

“Got what was coming to him, if you ask me. Galactor does not need such weak-willed people.”

“Especially considering what trash talk he was spouting off the other day, saying that if he didn’t get what was promised to him, that he was going to just walk. Well, he walked, all right.”

The other recruit snickered. “Yeah, right into a bus.”

“What happened?” Toshiro inquired, frowning at this last comment.

“Recruit from our basic bit the big one,” one foot soldier sniggered. “Got himself spattered into road kill.”

“What? Who?”

“Ah, some guy apparently not smart enough to watch where he was going.”

“I thought he couldn’t take the pressure?”

“Does it matter?” the intern broke in. “The poor guy is dead now, and besides, I liked Jiri …”

Toshiro stopped short, the words hitting him like a physical blow. The plans he held slid to the ground, the wind taking up the edges and blowing them against Toshiro’s shoes.

“Jiri?”

The intern was the one who noticed Toshiro had stopped walking and turned back. “Oh, hey, that’s right. You knew him. You guys were friends, right?”

Were friends … not are friends, any more … were …

Numbly, Toshiro bent to scoop up the plans he had dropped and the other intern also stooped to help him. The other guys continued walking and Toshiro could hear that they had moved on to a different topic.

Jiri … gone … how was that possible?

“What happened?” he blurted out as he cradled the mess of plans and rose to his feet. The intern looked at him sympathetically.

“Well, I really don’t know that much about it,” the intern confessed. “I only know what those guys said, because a couple of them were around when it happened.”

“But what happened?”

The intern sighed and they both began to walk towards the tech building. They were both well aware that they had already spent too much time going from one place to another and would, most likely, receive reprimands from their superiors. Toshiro, though, did not care. One of his friends had just died and he did not even know about it until now.

“Well, from what those guys were saying, he had been waiting for the ... apparently, he just … uh … accidentally walked in front of the bus at the Rogers and State Street bus stop and got … uh … hit. They say he was waiting for the 3:15 bus and then, as another bus approached, not scheduled to pick up at that stop, he just stepped out, or fell out, in front of it. He was probably dead on impact, though he had gotten caught on the bus’s bumper and was dragged quite a distance before the driver realized what had happened.”

Toshiro winced at the thought of Jiri dying like that. What a horrible way to go. “But why was he even in that part of the city? What could he have been doing there at that time of the day? And why would he even been waiting for a bus when he had his own moped?”

The intern shrugged as he reached for the door handle. “I don’t know and maybe it’s for the best that we don’t.”

* * *

He had tried to get to the bottom of what happened, but Toshiro found out quickly that the Galactor officers in charge were not interested in finding out the truth. The pervasive opinion among all he spoke with was the same: yes, a man had died, yes, it was sad, but life goes on. More importantly, they reminded him, Galactor goes on. Case closed.

Toshiro sighed and made another mental mark in the ‘failed’ category.

Rain sluiced down the window outside of his room and made the light inside seem too bright, too harshly cheerful, for the weather or his mood.

If Toshiro had his way, he would have turned off the lights altogether, but he did not have that option. Far too many nurses and doctors in and out to check on things and they all needed light by which to see.

Keeping moving along, people, he longed to scream at them. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all.

It was an awkward meeting, Toshiro nervous and acutely aware that he had no idea why Giuseppe Asakura had called him in.

“Please, come in,” Asakura invited, waving Toshiro in. As soon as Toshiro was in, Asakura shut the door and headed over to another door in the center of the house. “Ah, why don’t we take this into another room?”

Toshiro crossed the room, giving a brief wave to George, who absentmindedly waved back, not wanting to remove both hands from his game controller. Toshiro smiled as he watched the boy unerringly aim and hit the targets that flew at him on the screen.

Good reflexes and a good eye, he assessed as he followed Asakura down the stairs to the basement. He shuddered to think what would eventually happen to the boy at the hands of Galactor. Perhaps his father’s position would save him …

“Please, close the door,” Asakura’s voice drifted up from somewhere in the basement. Toshiro did as he was asked, then joined Asakura in the finished basement. Though there were several chairs placed in groups, neither man moved to sit.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered, ever the host. “Tea … or coffee?”

“No, sir,” Toshiro replied, mindful of the one to whom he was speaking, “I’m just fine. Thank you.”

This seemed to throw Asakura off momentarily and the man walked behind the bar and rinsed off a glass. He filled it with water, took a sip, then gave Toshiro a level look. He turned the water on again, then picked up a remote control that was on the bar. Asakura waved Toshiro closer so that he could hear him.

“This is necessary,” he explained, “because I do not trust that even this room has not been tampered with at some point.”

“Sir?”

The two men stared each other in the eye.

It was not until Asakura turned on the stereo at near ear-splitting levels that Toshiro realized why he was doing what he did. It was all to be white noise, to prevent whatever was going to said from being heard by any bugs or listening devices that may have been planted in the room.

The only thing was, Toshiro wondered, why a boss as powerful as Asakura was being so cautious … or feared being overheard.

Asakura waved Toshiro over to the end of the bar and pointed to a spot for him to stand. The moment Toshiro stepped where Asakura had pointed, the noise from the water and the music disappeared. He flashed a startled look at Asakura, who likewise stepped close to the end of bar.

“Impressive, is it not?” he said, glancing around the room. “A precisely engineered dead spot where all noise from within the room is blocked.”

“But how?”

Asakura raised his eyes and pointed to the ceiling’s decorative tiles and circular strip lighting, then pointed to the floor, which had a similar circular pattern in it. “See that circle there? It’s not just a light, but emits a canceling wave to block frequency patterns. If someone were to walk into the room right now, all they would hear is the water and the music and not us talking.”

“Even without a dead spot, I think that’s all they would be able to hear,” Toshiro remarked before thinking. Asakura laughed.

“You might be right about that. Anyway,” he began, his smile fading, “I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been hearing that a certain recruit has been making inquiries into the recent death of a fellow recruit.”

Toshiro’s vision narrowed and he swayed, suddenly light-headed. He had found out. He knew. But that could not be interpreted as being against Galactor … could it?

Toshiro swayed slightly, the sentence hitting him like a physical blow. “S-sir?”

Asakura waved a hand at him. “No need to be alarmed, Tosh. I will not tell my superiors.”

Toshiro studied him, but did not reply. There did not seem to be anything he could say that would not implicate himself further. Asakura sighed.

“You want proof? Here it is. If I haven’t told them by now, then chances are I will not tell after this, yes?”

Toshiro nodded tentatively, seeing the wisdom in the man’s words. He was right. For whatever reason, Asakura had held his tongue and kept the knowledge to himself. But why?

“So if you were the recruit in question,” Asakura continued, “what sort of things would you have discovered?”

Toshiro licked at his bottom lip. Following the phrasing of Asakura’s question, he answered, “Were I the recruit you speak of, which I’m not …”

“ … of course not …”

“… then I might have found that Jiri had been either thrown or pushed into the path of that bus.”

“So not a suicide?”

“Hardly. He was lured there, then was either pushed or fell, but it’s easier to tell everyone that he committed suicide. After all, it’s not like he’s going to argue the point now.”

“Very true. But what about the suicide note that he left? I’ve been told that it explained that he no longer had the desire to live if he could not serve Galactor in the way he had hoped he could.”

Toshiro pressed his lips together tight, trying to gauge how much to tell Asakura. “I know that. I’ve seen the note ...” Toshiro quickly looked away when he saw the flicker of surprise ripple through Asakura’s narrowed blue-gray eyes, “but after proofreading Jiri’s papers for two years, I can tell you that that was not in his style of writing.”

“But it was in his handwriting,” Asakura immediately countered.

“Then someone forced him to write it,” Toshiro said in exasperation.

“And why would someone think that? What makes you so sure it wasn’t just the way he would have written something under extreme mental duress?”

“He was under duress, all right, but I don’t think it came from himself. For starters, I’ve known Jiri for two years. The four of us were together constantly and Jiri isn’t … wasn’t … the type to fall into depressive states. He was pretty evenly keeled, even when he hit rough patches in his life. I mean, we were there when he found out about his grandfather, to whom he had been very close, passing away, and when he didn’t get teaching assistant’s position that he applied for, and he took the news okay. I mean, he was upset, but not to the point of ending his life.”

“A valid observation, but anyone could eventually be pushed to the brink, if the news were severe enough, don’t you think?” Asakura asked, obviously playing devil’s advocate.

Toshiro shook his head. “For someone else, maybe, but not Jiri. Like I said, he was a pretty level guy, but he did tend to go overboard with things, like joining Galactor. He’d want to prove himself, to do well, but I can’t see him killing himself because he hit a snag. Instead, he just would have …”

Asakura tilted his head at Toshiro’s abrupt end of his sentence. “He just would have what?”

“If Jiri wasn’t doing well here, he would not have killed himself, he would’ve done what he always did when he started something and it wasn’t going well.”

“Which was?”

“He would have quit. He would have just walked away from it, like the time he tried out for the ice hockey team or the track team.”

“Galactor is a far cry from track and field,” Asakura noted quietly. “You don’t just quit. You can’t just walk away.”

“No, sir. You and I both know that, but Jiri … he was so gung-ho about Galactor at the beginning that I don’t think he really thought about what would happen if he didn’t like it … or couldn’t measure up.” Toshiro dropped his head. “I don’t think any of us did.”

“And what of Tonde?” Asakura continued, taking a sip of his water.

“What of him, sir?”

Asakura gave him a sharp smile and lifted a brow. “You were there with him. They all saw you standing with him, talking to him for a good fifteen minutes outside the station house. Do you realize that they have now linked you to two recruits who have died within a couple of weeks of each other, both of whom were cast under the suspicion of treason?”

“No, sir,” Toshiro admitted truthfully. “I had not thought of it like that. But Jiri wanting to leave can’t be considered treasonous …”

“… it can, and it has …”

“ … and I had nothing to do with Tonde’s fight or planned attempt to escape. I swear, I did not …” he dropped his head and his bottom lip trembled slightly.

“But?” Asakura prompted.

“But, just between us, in hearing the details, I wish I had.”

Asakura nodded and took another swallow of water. That was when Toshiro realized that this man, so powerful and in control, was actually nervous.

“You see what’s going on, then?” Asakura asked him, carefully setting the glass back on the bar as though it would detonate.

“I see what has happened.”

Asakura nudged the coaster under the glass with his fingertips. “At the beginning, we were all brought in with the understanding that we were going to forge a better world for our children and for all future generations. All we had to do, they said, was trust them, believe in them, and turn over our lives to them and they, in turn, would protect us, watch over us, and when the time came, we would be raised up with all of Galactor and be given charge and stewardship of the planet.”

Asakura looked up from the glass to Toshiro’s face. “At first, it seemed too good to be true and then, I started thinking about what they said, what their true intent was and I could see their point. The governments in charge had made a mess of things, a mockery of what truth, justice, and equity for all should really be. It seemed time for a changing of the guard.”

Toshiro blinked. He, too, had heard those exact words, spoken by the rally leaders back at the university. It seemed long ago now. A lifetime ago for Tonde and his family … and now Jiri …

“Do you know how I came to this position? Have you heard the story?” Asakura asked abruptly, his tone casual, but his body tense. Toshiro shook his head. “Then let me tell you. Before coming here, I held a position in a small university as an economics professor.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Taught the range from underclassmen to doctoral levels …”

“You must’ve scared the shit out of your students,” Toshiro commented, then his eyes went wide as he realized what he said … and to whom … and quickly added, “with all due respect, sir.”

Asakura gave him an indulgent smile. “Perhaps I did, but I always got the work out of my students that I wanted, though. And, I must admit, looking back, it was a nice little professorship. Had tenure already, so my place there was secure …”

“Then what made you leave?”

“What makes anyone leave one thing for another? I thought I could do better. I thought that by removing myself out of the get-grants-or-die culture, I would be able to spend more time with my new family. That I could give my wife and baby a better life. Galactor offered me that something better and I took it. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“At the time I was approached to join, Galactor was just starting to expand their territories, slowly becoming a force to contend with on a global scale. The Families each selected an area, based on their own studies and recognizance, upon which they would focus, all in the name of Galactor.”

“The First Families of Galactor?” Toshiro asked in surprise as the phrase came to mind.

Asakura raised a brow. “So you’ve heard of them?”

Toshiro hesitated. “I … sort of. I just remembering hearing that before.”

Which was true. In fact, it was a well-worn boast in the Dillen household, as they prided themselves on being one of the first to have joined, and enjoyed the special notoriety that came with such a distinction.

And they were forever stressing that only one truly dedicated to Galactor as they were could hope to have any relationship with their daughter. They were determined that their family dynasty, now firmly established within Galactor, would continue on to the next generation and beyond …

Asakura’s next words pulled Toshiro out of his musings and he focused on what Asakura was saying.

“The Families made headway in several countries, upsetting more than a few older and more established political parties, but Galactor’s truly big break came here, on BC Island, because of its remoteness, and the fact that its own government had fallen into such disarray that it did not take much to convince the native people that there was a better way. It was a complete and total takeover, all without a single shot being fired.

“I caught their attention because they wanted my expertise to help with the restructuring of the island’s economic system. Upon my acceptance, along with several others who had just joined as well, we made up the Board of Ways and Means. The programs we drafted and were able to implement at that time were so successful that nearly the entire island population were convinced to join Galactor. Other countries even began to send over their own experts, to study what we had done and we happily indoctrinated them with the wisdom of being Galactor. We were flush with our success and those of us on the Board rose in power, just as we were promised.”

Asakura stopped a moment and took another sip of water before continuing. “Had things remained that way, I don’t think I ever would have looked back, or ever questioned Galactor. Lately, however, I have discovered that funds that should be going back to the people here are being diverted and sent elsewhere. Programs vital to the support of BC Island and its inhabitants are being dramatically slashed, and as wages are shrinking, work hours are increasing. Yet, every time I try to point this out, every time I try to fix what is going out of line, I find myself questioned, as if I am the one who is failing to fulfill my end of the bargain.

“People are unhappy, Tosh, but they are also too afraid to do anything about it because of things happening, like with Tonde and your friend. They are stuck, and it kills me to know that I helped to put them in that position. However, I’m starting to take steps to correct that …”

“Sir …”

“… but there’s only so much I can do from here,” Asakura continued on, ignoring Toshiro. “I’ve already gathered together most of the data, which I plan to bring with us …”

“Sir, please …”

Asakura stopped at moment and studied Toshiro a moment. As if reading the younger man’s mind, Asakura continued, “and I need your help.”

Toshiro blinked in surprise. “My help? To do what?”

Asakura’s face did not alter, but it seemed to Toshiro that his mood had shifted, something almost like a living creature coiling itself around him. Around them both.

“I want …” he paused a moment, then rephrased his words. “I would like to request a favor of you, if you are able. It is something that I cannot do myself, nor can I trust anyone else under my control. It would be strictly a personal favor.”

“And what would that be, sir?” Toshiro breathed out, scarcely believing the words that he heard, thinking for one wild moment that the frequency filter had failed and had him mishearing. Asakura was asking him for a personal favor?

“I need to get a message to a certain person, but there is no one else I can approach with this. Will you do it?” At Toshiro’s hesitation, Asakura grabbed his arm. “Please. I need this message to reach the one it is intended for.”

“But ... a message about what?”

Asakura’s eyes narrowed, a severe look on his face. He had hoped that Toshiro would simply accept the task without question, to allow him to remain as innocent as possible, but he should have known that Toshiro would question him. As he questioned Galactor all along. Asakura took in a deep breath. Did he trust him ... or not?

“We need to get out,” he admitted. “I’ve got to get my family away from here. I’ve seen the plans, I know where all of this is leading. And, unless I’ve missed my guess, you’ve seen it too.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because I know I can count on you, Tosh, and I need someone who I can implicitly trust and who would also be willing to help me.”

“To do what?”

“Get away.”

“Defect?”

Asakura shrugged. “It’s not defecting if they broke their promises first. I tell you, Tosh, this is not the organization that I started out with, the one that I believed in. Still do, really. But other things are happening now, and it’s turning more into a police state than a peaceful society.”

“They say it’s because their hand is being forced,” Toshiro added, remembering what his section captain recently told them. “That if everyone simply let Galactor take the reins, they could implement their ideas and everyone would have what they needed and no one would want for anything …”

“Yes,” Asakura said with a nod, “I’ve heard that, too. But, Tosh, do you really believe that? After seeing what I’ve been seeing for the past few years, I’m beginning to think that they want to escalate things to violent level, simply to prove their dominance.”

“But to what end? What point does it serve if the land that you conquer is destroyed to the point of being unlivable?”

“Exactly my point. Whatever Galactor’s true goals are now, we’re all just pawns. I see that now.”

“Sir?”

Asakura looked at his water glass with an infinite sadness in his eyes. “A few days ago, we received a notice that, come the beginning of the new semester year, George is to be taken away to train as one of the Children of Galactor.”

“I thought he was too young yet,” Toshiro countered, his surprise evident in his face and in his words.

“He is,” Asakura said, “by two years, but apparently, he caught the eye of several members above me who believe that he is ready to start his training now. We have been told, by official letter, in no uncertain terms, that he will taken from us when the Fall semester starts.”

Toshiro’s mind immediately called up the first time he had seen George, how expertly he handled and fired the gun they had given him. He could easily see how they came to that decision. “But he has already started his training here, so why send him away?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Asakura asked bitterly. “If they send him away now, away from his parents’ influence, they would be better able to mold him into the perfect Galactor soldier.”

“But isn’t that what you ...”

“No!” Asakura roared, slamming a fist down on the end of the bar. “It isn’t what I want for my child! I want him to be whatever it was he wants to be. Galactor promised us that our children would have that freedom, that they would be supported and live without restraints or limitations. That they would be educated and given a choice. If they take him from us now, he will become one thing, and one thing only.”

Toshiro thought back to the last time he and George actually spoke while playing those video games.

“Say, you’re a pretty good driver,” Toshiro had remarked as they finished a racing game, which George handily won. “Maybe you’ll be a race car driver when you grow up.”

“Maybe,” he said casually with a shrug, hitting the buttons to re-set the game to start. “But I want to be an astronaut when I grow up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, concentrating on the buttons on the controller, “and maybe a veterinarian.”

“Those are all great things.”

“And a flower grower.”

“A flower grower?” This unexpected item had taken Toshiro off-guard.

George gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Yeah, I want to grow flowers. Mama says we should all try to bring beauty to the world wherever we can. And besides, flowers make her happy.”

Asakura cleared his throat and rolled the glass between his fingers, pulling Toshiro out of his ruminations. “I see the handwriting on the wall and I know what they are intending to do. They are forcing my hand, just as they will force the hands of all the others, and, because of that, I have no choice. None of us do, really. I don’t want to see my family destroyed because Galactor was the one who strayed from our original purposes and I find myself unable to go continue to go along with the new regime that is taking over. Unable and unwilling.”

The two men regarded each other for a moment in that silent space surrounded by a cacophony.

“What would you need to have done?” Toshiro asked at last.

“Just to have a message delivered to someone,” Asakura said quickly. “I can arrange to get … that person … to Utoland …”

“Utoland?”

“Yes,” Asakura confirmed. “From what I understand, that’s where he is now. Anyway, the messenger would drop off the documents to the G building, which would be the official reason for the trip, and then somehow slip away to the ISO building. Once inside, there is a security guard, a former student of mine, in fact, who promised me that he would relay any message that I could get to him to the one I needed. Unfortunately, how the messenger gets in and out of the ISO building is something he would need to work out himself. I can guarantee that the building is being watched by Galactor operatives, both from within and without, so the cover has to be as air-tight as possible.” He set the glass down on the bar with the air of a man who was taking a firm stand. “I know this is a lot of ask of anyone, and were the stakes not so high, I would not …”

“Delivering some documents does not seem to be too much,” Toshiro said, “and I think I might know how I could get in and out of the ISO without too much trouble.”

Of course, he thought with a cringe, it would mean crawling back to Isao and listening him gloat over his being right all along. As Toshiro looked around the room as he turned the matter over in his head, a photograph caught his eye.

It was a family photo, one that could be found in just about every household. Father, mother, child, all dressed in their best clothes, smiling for the camera. Toshiro thought of Tonde’s children, both of whom were gone now, one never even having drawn a first breath, and then thought of George, playing upstairs, and already planning for his future. What was a little discomfort and admitting to making a mistake to a friend when compared to the life or death of a child?

Nothing, he answered himself. Nothing at all.

“Then you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“It isn’t much,” Asakura said, reaching into his inner suit jacket pocket. “Like I said, just deliver a message to a certain person and wait for a reply. I will even personally arrange it so that you can even have a three-day leave, so no one will notice your absence and, if they do remark on it, they will be instructed to just let it slide, especially in light of the fact that I am your sponsor. For you to do a favor for me would not be seen as out of place.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes. That, and, of course, not getting caught, or let yourself be seen by anyone.”

Toshiro thought this over, his mind automatically recalling Tonde’s fate, and Jiri’s. Guilt clenched his heart. He had not helped been to help either one of them, had not even tried, and now, here he was, back in almost the same position.

Were they testing him, he wondered. Was this all just an elaborate ruse to see just how well Toshiro had learned the lessons of Galactor?

“I do not say this easily, or lightly, but I am begging of you now, please help me, help us,” Asakura said, grabbing Toshiro’s wrist and slipping a folded square of paper into his palm. “As long as you can get it to that address, to the one addressed there, I know he will help me. We went to university together, and I can only hope that he remembers me as I remember him. It would just be a quick exchange of notes, and afterwards, you can go on your way like this never happened.”

“And if Galactor should find out?”

Asakura met Toshiro’s look unflinchingly. “Then everything will be for nothing and it won’t matter then, will it?”

Toshiro nodded and put his hands into his pockets. “In that case,” he said, rocking back on his heels, “we never had this conversation.”

Asakura nodded and switched off the controller to the dead spot. A swelling crescendo filled his head.

In a louder voice, Toshiro remarked, “Say, is this concerto by Bach that you had told me about?”

“Debussy,” Asakura corrected, picking up his glass and following Toshiro’s lead. “Some prefer Strauss, or even Listz. If you like this, I can give you a list of recommended listening.”

The rest of Toshiro’s visit was like any other, and they spoke of many wide-ranging topics before dinner, then Toshiro played video games with George, marveling at how advanced the boy had become in the few weeks since last they played.

To all outward appearances, when Toshiro said good night and headed home, it looked as though he had merely spent an evening with friends.

And that would have been true, were it not for a small scrap of paper that seemed to burn in his pocket, its importance like a brick weight.

* * *

He had Asakura’s promise that he would take care of everything, and, as far as Toshiro could see, he had; now it was Toshiro’s turn to put the last piece into place, to make the entire charade believable.

He waited to place the call until he knew Deena would be gone for a while and not likely to come back unexpectedly as she had started to do with increased frequency. And just that morning, she herself had told him that she most likely would not return from her training exercises until well past dinner.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Toshiro picked up the receiver to the one phone he had access to and punched in the number.

“Yes?”

“Isao, it’s me.”

There was a silence, then, “Toshiro?”

“I … it’s been a long time.”

“A few months, not so long. Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Uh, listen ... I was wondering ...”

Toshiro paused, stuck on what words to say. Considering how things ended between them, Isao would have every right to simply hang up on him. But he needed him ... he needed the cover that Isao could give to him. If he turned his back on Toshiro now ...

“What is it?”

Toshiro blew out a breath and just blurted out what came to mind. “I was wondering if we could meet ... maybe for lunch, or something ... I feel bad about how we left things ... could we just talk it out, you think?”

“You really want to talk?” Isao responded skeptically, “or is this going to be another one of your ‘Galaxy creeps know best’ speeches?”

Toshiro knew this would not be easy, and he knew that Isao would attack the organization. Only this time, he also knew that Isao may have some valid points about them.

“I need to talk to you,” Toshiro said simply. When Isao did not respond, he went on. “I’m, uh, being sent as a personal messenger to Utoland in a few days, and I figured since I was going to be in the city anyway, that maybe we could just, you know, meet and catch up. Talk out some things, you know?”

“Talk out some things,” Isao repeated. “The only thing is, are you going to be willing to listen to anything I have to say?”

“I deserve that. I know it,” Toshiro acknowledged with a grimace, “but I promise, I will hear you out, if you will just hear me out ...”

Isao’s silence lasted for so long that Toshiro began to wonder if their connection had been broken, until Isao spoke again.

“I can probably meet you for lunch.”

“Thank you,” Toshiro said, his knees nearly giving out on him in his relief. Now, the biggest gamble of all. “Do you still work at the ISO building there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was thinking of maybe meeting you there, this way we don’t have to waste time meeting somewhere else.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

There was a subtle click, barely audible, but to Toshiro’s ear, it was like the crack of a gun shot.

“Let’s see, I can meet you in the South Side lobby at noon,” Isao said, his voice suddenly tight, “that work for you?”

“Yeah. So next Wednesday at noon, then?”

“Sure.”

They hung up, but Toshiro knew the damage was done. Someone had been listening in.

* * *

After dropping off the documents which were the official reason for his being in Utoland, Toshiro strode up the soaring staircase up to the main entrance of the International Science Organization’s building. He had felt funny about the slight lie to Deena about the reasons for his sudden departure, but there was no help for it. Still, he could not shake the feeling that, somehow, she already knew that he was not telling her the complete truth.

But, as promised, Asakura had taken care of everything else and no one, not even his flight trainer, asked him where he was going or what he was doing. It was merely accepted that he was going and left at that.

Just deliver the note, get a response, and leave, Toshiro repeated in his head.

At the front desk, he flicked a look to the paper in his hand, then went over to the one guard that stood to the side of the reception area.

He studied the man for a moment, weighing the sensibility of this plan. Suppose Asakura was wrong? Suppose this man did not know ...

Toshiro shrugged. Too late now; everything was already in motion. He shook out the road map and approached the guard with a lopsided grin and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey there, I was hoping you could help me out,” Toshiro began loudly, holding out the map. “I’m a bit lost and just need some directions.”

The guard raked a glaring look over Toshiro, seeing what the world saw. An affable, tall, thin, young man with a wide smile and guileless brown eyes.

“Where did you want to go?” the guard replied cautiously. As they bent their heads over the map, Toshiro spoke the code message.

“I need to get a worm to a certain bird,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. In a louder voice, he said, “I was meeting a friend, at South Side, but I got turned around somehow and all of these streets seem to be one way ...”

“Yes,” the guard said in reply, nodding his head. In an equally low voice, said, “and what worm would that be?” In a large show, he pointed to the map as he spoke in a normal tone, “you have to be careful as to which direction you are traveling around here.”

As Toshiro handed over the map to the guard, he also passed along the folded note that Asakura had given to him as well.

“Can you give me directions to get to there,” Toshiro pointed to a spot on the map, “from here?”

The guard frowned. “I’m not from around here. Let me ask someone who is. Wait right here.”

Toshiro nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets. He assumed the air of one with a lot of time to kill, looking around the lobby, studying the people sitting or waiting, like he was.

He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes went by.

Then twenty.

After a full thirty minutes, Toshiro began to get edgy and nervous. How long should he wait before he bailing?

A few minutes longer and the guard appeared again.

“Take the route marked in red,” he ordered, pointing it out to Toshiro as he handed the map. “Everything that you need should be there.”

“Thanks a lot,” Toshiro said as he gathered the map, and the reply note, into his hands. “Much appreciated.”

As he walked away, Toshiro felt awash in the satisfaction of helping someone. Now, he just needed to get the reply to Asakura and his part would be done ...

But first, he had a more unpleasant task ahead of him and dread filled him as he heard a voice call out to him.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Isao asked in greeting as he caught up to Toshiro and clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought we were supposed to meet at South Side.”

“Uh, yeah, we were ...”

Isao led Toshiro out of the building, unknowingly providing Toshiro with a better cover than Toshiro thought he could.

“I thought we’d go to this little place, not far from here,” Isao said, taking a slight lead ahead of Toshiro. “I didn’t think either of us really wanted to be in a crowded cafeteria.”

“No, you’re right,” Toshiro agreed. “What I need to say to you needs to be said in private.”

Isao gave him a querying look, but did not press him. In silence, they walked to the small café, got lunch, and headed for a park nearby. They were halfway through their sandwiches when Toshiro spoke.

“You were right.”

“Always nice to hear,” Isao said with a shrug. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Toshiro picked at a bit of tomato and pulled it out of his sandwich. “No. There’s more. A lot more.” A bit of lettuce followed.

Isao frowned. He knew Toshiro as well as he knew himself, and if Toshiro was picking at his food instead of eating it, the ‘more’ could not be good.

“You must hate me,” Toshiro said.

“No, not hate,” Isao amended, watching as a bit of bread joined the reject pile, along with a bit of meat. “I was upset, but I never hated you.” Toshiro looked up at Isao then, his surprise evident in his face. Isao chuckled. “Is that what you thought? One argument could erase three years of friendship?”

“Yeah, well …”

“Think of it like this. We both said some things, some things we meant, some things we didn’t, but we’re still friends.”

“Are we?”

Isao leaned back and put down his own sandwich a moment. “Of course. All in, remember?”

Toshiro smiled at the memory.

Yes, he remembered. It started when they had first joined crew and met Jiri and Hugo. They were a team and, before every race, they would chant a saying that they had all had a hand in writing.

“All together, whether we win together or we lose together …” he intoned softly.

“… we will remain all in it together,” Isao finished. “Things have not changed so much from then, Toshiro.”

Toshiro’s head dropped then, and Isao sat up in alarm when he realized that the young man before him was crying.

“But it has, Isao,” he said in a near whisper. “It’s all changed now. Jiri died.”

“He what?” Isao gasped. “How? When?”

With an economy of words, Toshiro outlined what he had heard, then what he had found out.

“They ruled it a suicide,” Toshiro concluded, “but I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. They said it was because he failed to pass the final exam and that he would not be promoted. They said he took it hard, and he probably did. Jiri believed in Galactor probably more than anyone else I’ve met, but nothing supports that theory.”

“So what do you think happened to him?”

“From what I can piece together, he either lost his footing and fell or he was pushed. The thing I have a hard time understanding is why he was even at that particular bus stop at that time.”

Isao picked up his sandwich, then dropped it again. “What about Hugo? Does he know? What about Jiri’s parents?”

Toshiro shook his head. “I was able to convince my superiors to give me clearance to at least box up his gear and send it back, with a letter to his family. I tried to be as tactful as I could, but I don’t even know if they got the package. There’s a part of me that thinks it was just pulled from the postal bin and tossed.”

“So Hugo still doesn’t know at all?”

“I haven’t been able to reach him. I’m lucky that I’m even able to tell you now.”

Isao slammed a fist down on the table, making their sandwiches jump.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore, as tears filled his eyes. He could still picture the earnest face of Jiri, heard his laugh as he and Hugo tried to outdo each other in puns. And now he was dead …

Isao riveted his eyes to Toshiro. “You have to get out of there, Toshiro. Please tell me you aren’t going back.”

“I have to,” Toshiro answered immediately.

“Why?” Isao demanded hotly. “Give me one good reason why you can’t just walk away now. I can help you. We can find someplace for you to stay, if you don’t want to stay with me. You can’t risk ending up like Jiri … I won’t let you … I don’t care what filth and lies they’ve told you …”

“It isn’t a question of that,” Toshiro interrupted quickly, “and I can give you two good reasons.” He paused a moment, waiting for that wild look in Isao’s eyes to fade, though the anger remained etched in his features. “The first is that I wasn’t here just to deliver some papers.”

“No?”

Toshiro shook his head. “There’s a man, a head boss, really, who’s trying to get his family out …”

Isao’s brow quirked at this. “Seriously?”

Toshiro nodded his head. “He told me that things were changing and I believe him. Whatever Galactor had started out to be, is not what it will end up being.”

“So why did he take you into his confidence?” Isao asked suspiciously. “Are you sure he’s just not testing you? To see how loyal you are?”

“I thought of that too,” Toshiro admitted with a nod, “but I don’t think so. He genuinely wants out. In fact, that was the real reason I needed to go to the ISO …”

“So you used me?” Isao said, his eyes widening.

Toshiro felt a hot blush rise to his cheeks. “Yes and no. Meeting you there gave me the perfect cover to explain my presence, if I needed to, but I really did want to talk to you, to at least tell you about Jiri face-to-face instead of having you find out some other way.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Toshiro fixed a look of anger at Isao, then realized that Isao did not mean that sarcastically. They sat there, staring at their half-eaten lunches for a moment, letting the wind lightly buffet them, the sun warm on the tops of their heads.

“So were you able to get what you needed for this guy?” Isao asked, breaking the silence.

Toshiro’s hand went immediately to his pocket, felt the crinkle of the paper there. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, if it means getting someone out of their clutches, then I guess I don’t mind so much.”

“Thanks.”

“Next time, though,” Isao warned, “I want it to be you, Toshiro.”

“I can’t guarantee that, Isao. You know that. I can’t leave …” he swallowed hard, head and heart warring within him, “you know I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” Isao pressed.

“She’s my second reason,” Toshiro said softly. “Either we leave together or we stay in it together, but I can’t just leave her with them defenseless and unprotected.”

“All in?” Isao sighed.

“Yeah.”

* * *

Isao spent several sleepless nights turning over what Toshiro had told him over his mind.

Calling Hugo had been hard to the point of painful, but it had to be done. Though Isao was glad it was over and done with, he could only wonder if it really were. Toshiro was still caught up in that and, as long as he remained there, there would always be that chance that he, too, would die and only then there would be no way of knowing.

Isao sat up in bed, then threw off the covers, a plan already half-forming in his mind.

That he was trying to help a family get away gave Isao the hope that sooner or later, Toshiro would want out, too, and when he did, Isao wanted to be ready.

Within a few weeks, his internship would end and he would be free until the start of the new semester. Perhaps, during that time, he could go to Toshiro, and find out, one way or the other, what type of situation into which his friend had gotten himself.

BC Island was a popular tourist destination, he reasoned, so if anyone asked, it would not be too much of a stretch to think of him going there for a few days or a week, just to rest and recharge his batteries before the start of a new school year.

Perhaps, Isao thought as he booted up his laptop, if this girl loved him as much as Toshiro seemed to care for her, they could both leave with him.

Or, maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as he thought, Isao reconsidered, but then he thought of Jiri.

With renewed determination, Isao began to make his travel plans, booking one flight in and reserving three flights out, just in case ....

* * *

It had been hard to face Isao, Toshiro thought back, remembering that day when they met, and were it not for Asakura’s predicament, he was not sure he would have ever reached out to Isao again.

Even now, knowing what he knew, knowing what Isao had risked, he was not sure he would have called if it were just for him.

Pride goeth before the fall …

He had read that some place, but his brain was still too foggy with the sedatives to properly think where. It didn’t matter, he supposed with a weary mental shrug. The truth was the truth regardless of where it originated.

And he was still trying to recover from the hardest fall of all.

* * *

Outwardly, Asakura had made no telling sign that he had just palmed the note from Toshiro, nor did Toshiro look back to make sure that he had.

A simple passing on the street, two shoulders colliding on a busy sidewalk, one man acknowledging the other in a polite murmur of apology.

Once alone, Asakura unfolded the note that was to be the salvation of his family and read the message contained therein.

“The end of the summer will be my last resort ... family is wished a fun day of surf and sand ... it is good to get away from it all. Bluebird.”

Asakura nodded and folded the note up, then ripped it into tiny pieces. After a moment’s thought, he took out a lighter and set fire to them. As he watched the pieces being reduced to ash, a smile curved his lips.

Everything was set. Now all they had to do was wait for the end of summer, just one more month, where they would then go to the last resort hotel and meet their contact at the beach there ... to, indeed, get away from it all.

* * *

It was, Toshiro realized, the dinners that bothered him the most. He loved Deena, would have done anything for her, but he hated the person she became when she was around her parents.

Colder, harder, more distant. If any affection were displayed among the family members, Toshiro had yet to see it. It almost made him wonder about her true feelings for him.

Almost.

Toshiro lashed out, his hand striking the iron rail that was raised at the side his bed. The rattling sound brought a nurse running.

“Are you all right?” she asked from the doorway.

Toshiro nodded, but he was far from fine.

* * *

“I’ve just gotten my first assignment,” Deena proudly announced the moment everyone was seated at the table.

Her mother nodded her head, her father merely glanced at her with a frown.

“What type is it?” he demanded. “It had better be something worthy of your skill.”

“Oh, I think it will be,” she smirked, “and, best of all, I don’t even have to leave the island.”

“What will you be doing?” Toshiro blurted out, stunned that she had not told him about this yet.

Deena speared some vegetables on her fork and lowered her voice in conspiratorial tone. “Well, it seems that a certain boss high up around here has been sending out coded messages ...”

Toshiro felt the blood freeze in his veins. “What’s so wrong with coded messages? I thought that was the primary form of communication,” he said weakly.

Deena’s mother sniffed delicately. “It is. However, there are messages, and then there are messages, is that not right, Deena?”

“Yes, Mother,” Deena said dutifully. “Apparently, he means to defect. The link between Asakura and his contact with the enemy hasn’t been established yet though ...”

“And this is your assignment?” her father interrupted, “to find the mole?”

“Oh, no,” Deena responded with a giggle. “My assignment is to tail the Asakuras and then kill them before they can go through with their defection.”

Three pairs of eyes swiveled to Toshiro as his fork clattered to his plate. Deena’s eyes narrowed.

“Is there something wrong, Tosh?”

“N-no,” Toshiro stammered, “not at all. It’s just ... uh ... well, I’ve met the Asakuras, that’s all. Remember that dinner? And they ... they didn’t seem to be the type to defect. I mean, he’s pretty high ranking around here, isn’t he? And it wasn’t that long ago and you were all highly impressed with him and what he could do.”

“He was,” Deena stressed, “and we were, but he’s being watched by the all-knowing Galactor, just as we all are, and nothing escapes the notice of Galactor, no matter what. The fact that he is so high up just makes his defection that much more offensive. That is why he and his family will serve as a warning to any others who might be thinking that they can just walk away.” She gave him a cold, full smile, her eyes glittering in her malice, as she finished, “and everyone will know that I was the one to deliver the message, so he will have served me well in the end, after all.”

“Truly, Deena,” her mother nodded with approval, “an impressive first assignment. Be sure you follow your orders to the letter and let nothing deter you. You will go far in Galactor, I’ve always said that.”

“Yes, Mama. Don’t worry,” Deena assured her.

Her mother thought for a moment, carefully cutting her meat into little pieces. “Have you thought of the method you intend to use?”

“Well, I was thinking long-range sniper rifle. From what we understand, they plan to make the exchange out in the open, but the area will most likely have other people nearby. Probably what they were counting on. Have lots of witnesses, lots of tourists around. Makes it that much more difficult to simple take them out and leave.”

Her mother nodded, turning this over in her mind. “Hollow point bullets would be the most effective,” she instructed, “unless you plan for something more dramatic?”

Deena giggled and Toshiro felt his stomach clench, nausea rising up.

“Well, I do want it to be splashy, you know, especially since it’s going to be my first big hit.”

“That is very important,” Dillen noted, chewing thoughtfully. “You want to make it memorable, something that will establish your reputation right away.”

“Right,” Deena agreed with a nod of her head to her father, “so I was thinking of using those armor-piercing bullets, you know, the ones that keep doing damage even after piercing the target?”

Toshiro set his fork next to plate and rose to his feet. “If you will all excuse me, suddenly I’m not feeling very well.”

Deena frowned at him. “What is it? Does something hurt?”

“No,” Toshiro mumbled. “Just something that isn’t sitting well in my stomach.”

“Well, I do hope that you’re not getting that dreadful stomach virus that’s been going around,” Deena’s mother fretted as she rose to her feet. She went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle. “Here,” she said, holding out the water to him, “make sure to drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Toshiro said softly as he took the bottle, “thank you.”

* * *

That was the way it was with them. One minute they could be casually talking about the murder of an entire family and the next, as mundane and ordinary as any other family.

How did they do it, Toshiro thought, his eyes following a small bird as it bounced along the branch of a tree outside the window. He could not see the tree itself, but assumed it was nearby.

How did they convince themselves that such casual killing was not only right, but justified?

Of course, he knew the answer to that. All he had to do was look at what happened to Jiri to know.

They had been fooling themselves all along. How stupid ...

Toshiro heard a bubbling, gasping noise and realized with a small measure of panic that it was coming from him. He wanted to cry, and cry out, but it was as if it were all stuck in his throat.

Maybe it wasn’t an infection, he thought, but the poison of Galactor which would, slowly but surely, kill him. After all, it was repeated time and again that no one left Galactor alive.

* * *

It was an unexpected, unplanned call and Toshiro felt the pressure. But he had to warn them somehow and there was not enough time for circuitous, blind messages, or even for him to go to the Asakuras personally.

Not to mention the fact that he knew his every move was being watched. The Dillens suspected him, of that he had no doubt, but so far, there was nothing they could point to that would connect him.

But after hearing how much Deena knew, and what she was planning to do, he knew had to warn them. It was more than he managed to do for Tonde and his family ....

Before Asakura could even speak, Toshiro just started talking the moment the call was answered.

“They know.”

“You’re sure?”

Toshiro thought back to Deena’s excitement at telling her parents. Another wave of nausea rocked him and he forced it back. “Yes. You will be in their sights at all times, so be careful.”

“We will,” Asakura assured him. “I will take the appropriate steps.”

“Good.”

The moment the call was disconnected, Toshiro heard a slight noise behind him, and knew she was standing in the open door of his apartment. In an instant, it all fell into place in his mind – she had set him up. She was the one who had tapped his phone, had a key to his apartment – one that he himself had given her – and why she mentioned what she had at dinner. If it was going to be anyone, it would be her who would find him out. The rising star of Galactor.

But, he thought with a rising hope, maybe now that it was finally out in the open, and he had her away from her parents’ influence, he could reason with her, make her see that there was still a chance from them to break away before they did anything they would truly regret ...

“Traitor.”

At the sound of her voice, he carefully placed the receiver down and turned to face her with deliberate slowness.

“Deena, you have to understand …”

Her brown eyes glittered with anger. “All I understand is that you have just become a traitor to Galactor. How could you betray us like that, after all we’ve done for you?”

Toshiro shook his hand, held out his hands in supplication. “What, exactly, has Galactor done for me? What I just did, I did for us. Lay the groundwork so that we can leave too. Before you make a huge mistake that can’t ever be corrected. Can’t you see what this really is? Can’t you see what’s going on here? Look what it’s done to you … to both of us … we need to get out, while we still can …”

Deena’s back stiffened and she moved her hand. Toshiro could see that she held a rose clenched tightly in her fist. “Leave? Leave? How can you even suggest such a thing? Galactor has groomed us into the finest soldiers that we could be. There is nothing else. We are nothing else without Galactor! We should be proud …”

“Well, I’m not!” Toshiro yelled. “How can you be proud of getting so-called assignments like this? Would you really kill a child, Deena? Could you really look into the eyes of that innocent child and kill him?”

Her eyes never left his face. She did not even blink. “Yes! If my assignment includes that the child should die too, then yes. Those who betray Galactor pay in blood, theirs and their family’s, as is only right and just.”

Tears blurred his vision. “So you really are going to go through with it?” he demanded, his voice cracking at the last word. “You’re really going to kill Asakura and his family?”

“You know I am. For the glory of Galactor, I must.”

“Deena, you are not this person,” Toshiro begged. He wanted to go to her, to put his arms around her and call back the sweet girl with whom he had fallen in love. But her face and body posture kept him from moving. There was nothing but a pure, undistilled, hostile anger emanating from her. How could he break through that? “You are not murderer …”

“How do you know what I am?”

“Because I could never love a cold-blooded killer! I know you, Deena. We know each other. What we’ve shared …”

“... is nothing,” she finished tonelessly as she raised her hand. “If you honestly believe that just our time together would make me turn my back on my family and my life with Galactor, you’re more than a traitor. You’re crazy. And now that your lies and deception have proven you to be unfit and unworthy to be called Galactor, and for your troubles, you will die with them.”

“Deena, please. Think about what you’re saying. What you’re doing. You know that I love y- ….”

“LIAR!”

Toshiro saw her hand move and, as he ducked, felt pain burst at his neck as the point of the metal rose she had held and thrown pierced his throat, not at the jugular as she had aimed for, but through his larynx.

He staggered and fell to floor, hands raised up, holding onto both his throat and the rose. As he sank down, choking and gasping, trying to get air around the metal shaft now lodged in his windpipe, he looked over to see the door still standing open and heard what sounded like shouts, then fighting. But who? Why?

Toshiro gasped, his vision dimming as his body slowly went into shock, and the last thing he remembered seeing was Isao leaning over him.

Was that possible, he wondered, or was it his mind just seeing things?

“Hang on,” he heard Isao say as though from a great distance, “just hang on and I’ll get us out of here …”

* * *

Though there was no official news that Deena had died, for Toshiro, she was gone just the same. Though he was determined that he would not mourn her, there was no ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest.

Toshiro stared at the window that framed the night sky, seeing it and yet not. His eyes burned with tears that would not come. His pain was far beyond sorrow.

Just as he drifted off to sleep, a thought occurred to him that had him opening his eyes before his mind even realized that he was awake again.

The rose had not detonated.

She threw a rose bomb at him and yet it did not explode. Was that merely an indication of an error on her part … that she really did not have it in her to kill ... or was it because she really did love him after all?

There was no way of knowing now.

A tear slid down his cheek as Toshiro gave in and let the sadness rise up and take him, just once.

* * *

Isao Masaki did not often know the feeling of helplessness, but he felt it now. He had removed the rose and tried to bandage Toshiro’s throat as best he could, but blood was still seeping through. Slowly, not as much as it was in the beginning, but it continued to bleed. What he really needed to do was get him to a hospital, but he didn’t know how to do that without alerting Galactor that Toshiro was still alive.

And when they found out about the girl … he did not even know if she had lived or died when the gun she held – and that they had fought over – had discharged and dropped her to the ground.

Isao wiped his forehead with the back of his shaking hand and scanned the hotel’s lobby once more. He was looking for a kindly face, someone who looked like they would help without asking too many questions …

It was the suit that caught his eye. Isao blinked as the man turned away from the front desk to head towards the elevators. He knew that man. He knew he knew him. But from where?

Just as the doors slid open, Isao remembered. Quickly, he bolted towards the elevator, a hand outstretched to prevent the man from getting in.

“Wait,” he cried out, “please, wait!”

The man turned around, the bulky briefcase he held bumping against his leg. He frowned for a moment, then his expression softened as he placed the face.

“Isao, isn’t it?” the man asked as Isao stepped up to him.

“Yes, Nambu Hakase,” he replied with a small bow. “Your memory is indeed formidable. I’m terribly sorry to bother you like this, but I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“If I can, Isao,” Nambu hedged. “What is it that you need?”

Though Isao knew it was just in his mind, it seemed as if everyone in the hotel lobby was holding their breath, waiting for his answer.

“Could we possibly step outside?” Isao requested with a grimace.

Nambu glanced at his wristwatch in a way that pointedly suggested that his time limited. Isao held his breath.

“Certainly,” he agreed.

Isao nearly ran for the door, but Nambu followed behind in an unhurried stride.

“Did you have a specific place in mind?” Nambu inquired.

Isao paused a moment, his mind going blank. He had to think and he could not. For Toshiro … he had to … Toshiro … bleeding and unconscious upstairs in his room …

“Isao?”

“Someplace we won’t be overheard,” he whispered. “Where would be a good place?”

It took Nambu all of a split second to suggest that they use his rental car. Once the doors closed, Isao faced Nambu and spilled out the whole story with no pauses or even breaths between words.

What would this man think of him, of them, Isao wondered in the back of his mind as he spoke. Although Isao’s internship at the ISO was spent working with Dr. Loriletto in the mechanical engineering labs, there were times when Dr. Nambu would appear, working on this project or that, always interested in what everyone else was doing, and seemed to fill the role of mentor far better than Loriletto or any of the others. He was a natural teacher and more than once Isao had wished the man taught university classes. Now, he found himself wishing for far more than that.

“…so, you see, I need someone to help,” Isao ended, “and I saw you there and thought that maybe …” He let the sentence drift off unfinished.

Quiet filled the car like water in a fish bowl as Isao waited for Nambu’s response.

“What makes you believe that your friend is truly done with these people?” Nambu finally asked.

Isao sighed hard. “The truth is, sir, I don’t know that for an absolute fact,” he replied honestly, “but the fact that he was trying to help a family get out, and he was using our meeting to cover his true purpose from being discovered, should count for something … and last time we spoke, he mentioned being disillusioned and of …of other things that he had heard of and seen. There was only one thing that was keeping him there, really, and she’s the one who tried to kill him.”

“Love can be blind, Isao.”

“I know that, Hakase, but I would think that even blind love cannot overlook attempted murder.”

“You said he was trying to help a family escape?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know who it was?”

Isao frowned in thought. “N … no. I don’t believe he ever said their names to me. Only that he was a messenger between them and whatever contact was to help them get out.”

“I see.”

“He said he felt compelled to help them because he had failed to help another family, and saw them die as a result of it. He’s … he’s told me of a mutual friend of ours, who was likewise killed, though it was labeled as an accident,” he added bitterly, the sting of Jiri’s death still sharp in his heart. “Can you help us, Hakase?”

“Take me up to him, and let’s see just how serious his condition is,” Nambu decided.

* * *

What occurred next was the most harrowing twelve hours of Isao’s life. True to his word, Nambu quickly arranged a way for them to get Toshiro off the island without letting it be known that he was leaving.

Within a handful hours, Nambu had procured a change of clothes for Toshiro and arranged for a flight on a small ISO research plane.

As he pushed the wheelchair containing the still near-unconscious Toshiro, now dressed in the garb of an old man, with a slouch-brimmed hat pulled low over his head and face, Isao listened in amazement as Nambu got the story around about how he had run into his old friend, who wanted to return with him to see the city one last time.

If the hotel staff had been suspicious of how the elderly man in the wheelchair had gotten into the hotel without any of them seeing him come in, they never let on, but Isao did not dare take a deep breath of relief until they landed in Utoland and Toshiro was admitted into the nearby military base hospital.

* * *

Toshiro stared vacantly up at the ceiling, trying to calculate the number of days it had been since the day Deena tried to kill him. By his estimation, it had been at least two weeks now.

What would they do to him, he wondered. Why had they kept him alive, when the only thing that waited for a Galactor traitor was death?

He knew nothing else, unless they wanted to know who the contacts on the outside were. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to forget that knowledge, those code names. He could be mistaken, he could incorrectly remember names … the end for him would still be the same, but at least he would not take anyone else with him.

“You have a visitor,” the nurse announced as she walked into the room. Toshiro’s eyes opened and he felt his heart pound with the sudden rush of adrenalin. Was it now? Had his time of reckoning come for him already?

After fussing with a blanket edge, raising his bed to a sitting position, and then discreetly leaving a pad and pen on the bed within easy reach of Toshiro’s hand, the nurse walked to the door, sidestepping to allow his visitor in. Then she left them alone, closing the door softly behind her.

A man Toshiro had never seen before stepped up to the side of his bed.

“My name is Nambu Kozaburo,” he said by way of greeting, “and I am the Chief of Security within the ISO.”

Toshiro breathed out hard. The ISO? He was no longer in possession of Galactor? He felt his limbs tremble at this new predicament. What would they do to him? Did they intend to punish him? They obviously had to know that he had been part of Galactor … didn’t they?

Nambu stared down at him a moment, then spoke in a low, deliberate tone. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Toshiro gave a stilted shake of his head.

“You were on BC Island all summer?”

An affirmative nod.

“As part of the organization known as Galactor?”

Toshiro’s head dropped in guilty admission. He glanced up when there was no other question forthcoming and looked at Nambu. “So sorry,” he mouthed, then looked away again.

“Do you want to go back?”

Toshiro’s eyes snapped up to Nambu’s face, wide in his alarm. He shook his head as vehemently as he could. Then he looked around wildly, searching for the pen and notepad that had always been nearby and now … there it was!

Toshiro lunged for the items and scrawled out what he felt, what he meant.

“I hate them. For what they did. For what they’re doing. They need to be stopped.”

Nambu read the message, and nodded his head. “I see,” he murmured, “and now you intend to stop them?”

“If I can, I will,” Toshiro wrote.

“How?”

Toshiro blinked at this. How? He had not really considered that. After a moment, he wrote, “I have flight training, and am good marksman. Figure something out.”

“By yourself?”

A flip of the page. “I’ll join military … or UN …”

“You think that any of those units will take you as you are? Knowing that you had spent time as a professed soldier for Galactor?”

Toshiro tapped the pen against the paper in thought, then slowly wrote out what he believed. “Someone might somewhere. Just keep trying until I find them.”

At that moment, the chiming ping of a missed call was heard. Nambu retrieved the phone from his jacket pocket and walked out. Toshiro waited, but when Nambu did not return, Toshiro was left to wonder what the purpose of their conversation was supposed to have been.

* * *

Toshiro touched the bottom edge of the bandage with his fingertips.

How long, he wondered, before they come off permanently? Before he would be showing the world his permanent reminder of betrayal and broken love.

He imagined it looking jagged and raw, the scar itself red and slashed, and now, as the doctor and two nurses came into the room, carrying their supplies to change the dressing, he wondered what it was they saw.

He could ask for a mirror, he reasoned, but decided to let it go. He would find out soon enough, and he would have the rest of his life to look at it.

* * *

“They tell me that you are well enough along to be discharged soon,” Nambu began the second he walked through the door, startling Toshiro out of his thoughts, “and I am here to give you two choices. You do not need to tell me right now what your decision is, but it will need to be made as soon as possible. At least before you are discharged.”

Toshiro studied the man in the light blue suit standing before him, then dropped his eyes to the blanket where the pad and pen sat near his hand.

Nambu waited a moment, then spoke softly, clearly. “Your choice is this. After you are given clearance to leave, we can deliver you to a safe house, your name and identity will be changed, and you can live out a life in relative anonymity. You would, of course, need to keep a lookout if Galactor finds you, or tracks you down. If you think that is the case, then you would then call a number that we will provide to you and you will be moved to another safe house within hours. This is the best we can to do in terms of seeing to your safety.”

Toshiro nodded once, his eyes still staring at the edge of the pen cap.

“The other choice is a bit more difficult. From here, you would be transported via plane to a training facility. You would leave behind everything, and everyone, you know …”

I lost all of that weeks ago, Toshiro thought bitterly.

“ … and you will become a member of specialized air squadron that is just being assembled. The fact that you have been already begun training, together with your inside knowledge of Galactor, would make you a valuable member to them. If, of course, you are still willing to face them again and help fight against Galactor.”

At that, Toshiro’s eyes snapped up to Nambu’s.

Was he joking? Was he really suggesting that they would let a known Galactor operative into one of their military squads?

That he would really be allowed to fly again?

“As I said,” Nambu continued, “we will need your answer, one way or another, within the next twenty-four hours.”

Toshiro nodded, then reached for pad and pen with a shaking hand. He scribbled out his question, and held the pad for Nambu to read. Nambu’s lips pressed together for a moment before he replied.

“We know of your accomplishments through your own university transcripts, as well as the fact that your friend spoke highly of you and told us of your achievements this past summer. You will need to be tested, of course, and receive further training, but if what your friend says is the truth, it seemed a waste to just let that talent go unused. And yes, the squad is willing to take a chance on you. If you were willing to help others attempt to get out of Galactor, then you obviously know them for what they truly are.”

Toshiro nodded at his assessment. He was sorrier than he had ever been in his entire life over joining Galactor, and to know that there was still someone out there who was willing to risk a chance on him meant more to him than even he knew it could mean.
As Nambu turned, Toshiro held out a hand, stopping him. He quickly wrote out two more questions and held it out to Nambu.

“Your friend is safe and has already made his own decision regarding his future, just as you need to do now.” His face turned solemn as he answered the second question. “And no. They were killed before they were able to meet their contact.”

Toshiro felt that tightness constrict his throat again, pain exploding in little stars across his vision, and in that moment, he knew what he must do. What he needed to do. All that he had wanted to do since he found out the true evil nature of all things Galactor.

He heard, rather saw, Nambu step towards the door and, once again, raised a hand to stop him. With one hand still outstretched and shaking, Toshiro wrote out his final message to Nambu.

want

join

team

“You’re sure?” Nambu asked looking from pad to Toshiro’s eyes. “No one would think any less of you if you never wanted to face another Galactor member again. Please don’t feel as though you must. And you don’t have to answer now, you know …”

Toshiro nodded, then shook his head as much as the pain would allow and scrawled out two words.

all

in

He insistently tapped at the pad with the pen, then circled the words to emphasize his feelings.

“Very well, if you feel that strongly about it,” Nambu conceded. Toshiro nodded his head as vigorously as he was able. “Then I will put the final arrangements into place. You will leave tonight.”

* * *

Promptly at eleven, a man dressed in a red uniform appeared at his doorway and threw a similar uniform at him.

“Get dressed,” the man ordered gruffly. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and a lot of work to do.”

Toshiro picked up the uniform, then paused, staring hard at the man. Then he placed the voice and smiled as he realized who it was.

“Who would have guessed, eh?” Isao grinned back and Toshiro nodded in agreement. “Well, let me know when you’re ready to go.” Isao disappeared into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him.

By midnight, two figures clad in red, their uniforms gray in the light of the waning moon, left the military grounds and boarded the plane that would take them to their ultimate destination.

By sunrise the next morning, the two new members of squadron that would come to be known as Red Impulse began their training.