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Authors: William H Keith
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down to hold him; Kara brushed past them and laid one hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Ran!” she told him, urgently, and gently. “It’s okay! You’re back. It’s over.”
He struggled for a moment, then relaxed, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on Kara. “You’re… okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Fine. How do you feel?”
“Don’t ask. Kuso, that’s the best argument I can think of for immortality. I hate getting killed!”
“The worst part is coming back to do it all over again,” Kara said, nodding agreement. “Can you sit up yet?”
“I think so.”
As she helped him get up and out of the conmod, she wondered if Core Peek had been worth the price they’d paid for too damned little in the way of solid intel.
“I wonder if it was worth it?” Ran asked, staring up at the image on the viewscreen and echoing her own dark thoughts. He seemed to sense her mood and reached out to put his arm around her shoulder. Normally, she discouraged such PDAs—public displays of affection, as they were known in the military—but she was tired and unhappy, and she needed that fleeting brush of human contact.
“Damned if I know, Ran,” she said, letting him squeeze her close. “Damned if I’ll ever know.”
Chapter 5
Anyone not convinced that genuine differences in thought processes, in worldview, in concepts such as self, duty, or society, exist between the members of different intelligent species — the products, remember, of separate and distinct evolutions, biologies, and histories — is invited to consider those differences as they are manifest between different cultures within the same species — Man. Japanese of traditional backgrounds perceive themselves quite differently in many fundamental respects than do, say, Hispanics, Europeans, or Americans. They are more in tune with their social surroundings, less tolerant of difference, more willing to sacrifice personal comfort or freedom for the good of society. It has been suggested that their talent for working together toward common goals is responsible for their remarkable success in the twenty-first century, when theirs became the dominant culture on Earth.
— Rising Sun’s Glory
D ARLENE H U
C . E . 2530
Admiral Isoru Hideshi was completely naked, as were the other five—three men, two women—sharing the shuttle pod’s small passenger compartment for the passage across open space to Tenno Kyuden. The six of them were strapped into six of the twelve couches filling the pod’s claustrophobic cabin. Acceleration provided their only sensation of weight.
His nudity bothered him scarcely at all; it was a small loss of men —the word could mean either face or mask—that was more than compensated for by the rich symbolism of the act. By shedding their clothing, Hideshi and his fellow passengers were acting out a kind of play, symbolically leaving material possessions behind as they took passage to the very Gates of Heaven.
And, of course, their nudity made it easier for the security personnel, who were examining them even now with a ruthless, near-microscopic scrutiny through the array of sensors embedded in the surrounding bulkheads and in the seats to which they were strapped.
Impassively, Hideshi watched the Great Wheel unfold before him on the vessel’s viewall. Tenno Kyuden —the Imperial Palace—was far more splendid, more spectacular than any holo, even than any ViRsimulation could possibly render it.
In some ways, the Palace reminded him of one of those immense, glittering, crystal-heavy chandeliers that some Western cultures affected in ballrooms or fancy dining halls. It had begun as a simple wheel attached at its hub to the jackstraw-tangled complex of the Singapore Synchorbital station, but in the past few centuries, construction had been unceasing as more and more modules and apartments and Imperial functionary habitats had been added. Now the structure was wider than the largest ryu dragonship and far
He struggled for a moment, then relaxed, opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on Kara. “You’re… okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Fine. How do you feel?”
“Don’t ask. Kuso, that’s the best argument I can think of for immortality. I hate getting killed!”
“The worst part is coming back to do it all over again,” Kara said, nodding agreement. “Can you sit up yet?”
“I think so.”
As she helped him get up and out of the conmod, she wondered if Core Peek had been worth the price they’d paid for too damned little in the way of solid intel.
“I wonder if it was worth it?” Ran asked, staring up at the image on the viewscreen and echoing her own dark thoughts. He seemed to sense her mood and reached out to put his arm around her shoulder. Normally, she discouraged such PDAs—public displays of affection, as they were known in the military—but she was tired and unhappy, and she needed that fleeting brush of human contact.
“Damned if I know, Ran,” she said, letting him squeeze her close. “Damned if I’ll ever know.”
Chapter 5
Anyone not convinced that genuine differences in thought processes, in worldview, in concepts such as self, duty, or society, exist between the members of different intelligent species — the products, remember, of separate and distinct evolutions, biologies, and histories — is invited to consider those differences as they are manifest between different cultures within the same species — Man. Japanese of traditional backgrounds perceive themselves quite differently in many fundamental respects than do, say, Hispanics, Europeans, or Americans. They are more in tune with their social surroundings, less tolerant of difference, more willing to sacrifice personal comfort or freedom for the good of society. It has been suggested that their talent for working together toward common goals is responsible for their remarkable success in the twenty-first century, when theirs became the dominant culture on Earth.
— Rising Sun’s Glory
D ARLENE H U
C . E . 2530
Admiral Isoru Hideshi was completely naked, as were the other five—three men, two women—sharing the shuttle pod’s small passenger compartment for the passage across open space to Tenno Kyuden. The six of them were strapped into six of the twelve couches filling the pod’s claustrophobic cabin. Acceleration provided their only sensation of weight.
His nudity bothered him scarcely at all; it was a small loss of men —the word could mean either face or mask—that was more than compensated for by the rich symbolism of the act. By shedding their clothing, Hideshi and his fellow passengers were acting out a kind of play, symbolically leaving material possessions behind as they took passage to the very Gates of Heaven.
And, of course, their nudity made it easier for the security personnel, who were examining them even now with a ruthless, near-microscopic scrutiny through the array of sensors embedded in the surrounding bulkheads and in the seats to which they were strapped.
Impassively, Hideshi watched the Great Wheel unfold before him on the vessel’s viewall. Tenno Kyuden —the Imperial Palace—was far more splendid, more spectacular than any holo, even than any ViRsimulation could possibly render it.
In some ways, the Palace reminded him of one of those immense, glittering, crystal-heavy chandeliers that some Western cultures affected in ballrooms or fancy dining halls. It had begun as a simple wheel attached at its hub to the jackstraw-tangled complex of the Singapore Synchorbital station, but in the past few centuries, construction had been unceasing as more and more modules and apartments and Imperial functionary habitats had been added. Now the structure was wider than the largest ryu dragonship and far
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