Too late.
He looked down at his arm again. The arm they’d gifted him after she tore his flesh away. Left him with nothing. No one.
Far too late, Mother.
He lifted a small microphone to his lips, speakers across the fleet crackling to life.
“Soldiers of the Tora clan! Today we bring an end to Yoritomo’s assassin, her accomplices, those who have betrayed their oaths to Lord and land! Do you stand ready?”
A roar from above, below, all around. Blades torn from scabbards. Hilts pounded on the decks. Shreddermen revving their engines and lifting chainsaw arms to the sky.
“Know no fear! Show no mercy! And tonight, should you stand before the Judge of all the Hells, stand proud and tall! For you have died in glorious battle for the honor of the Tora zaibatsu, and in the name of our Shōgun Yoritomo-no-miya!”
“Yoritomo!” A thousand voices took up the cry. “Yoritomo!”
“Death to the Kitsune! Death to the Stormdancer!”
“Death!” they roared. “Death!”
“Banzaiiiii!”
*
Kin stood on the Earthcrusher’s bridge, listening to Hiro’s voice crackle over Yama’s barren fields. The sun had almost crested the horizon, bleak light piercing the storm. Black snow crusted the Earthcrusher’s viewports, hundreds of tiny lights moving below as shreddermen took up position. The sky-fleet spread out in wedge formation, the Daimyo’s flagship front and center: Hiro seemed intent on leading his troops into the thick of battle.
The bridge was strangely calm, Shatei watching their instrumentation like spiders watching prey. Bo sat at his communications hub, speakers propped on his helm. Kin stood beside the pilot’s harness, Kensai looming behind, that horrid, childish face staring out to the city beyond. Commander Rei was conducting a final systems check.
“Commander.” Bo turned from his comms console. “Scouts report the gaijin army is stationed two miles east. They are fully mustered, and preparing to launch ’thopters.”
“Clever dogs,” Rei mused. “Waiting for us to hit the Kitsune, then swoop on the wounded victors.”
“The gaijin have nothing capable of harming Earthcrusher,” Kensai rasped. “This vessel was built to end the gaijin war, Commander. A ragtag invasion presents no obstacle. Proceed.”
“Hai,” Rei nodded. “Shatei Bo, I want one vessel with eyes on the gaijin at all times.”
“Hai,” Bo bowed.
Kensai limped up next to Rei, his breathing labored. He flicked a switch and spoke into the PA system, his voice bellowing across Yama’s towering walls.
“People of Yama, warriors of the Fox clan, I am Shateigashira Kensai of Chapterhouse Kigen, loyal servant of Tojo, First Bloom of the Lotus Guild. Hear me now.
“You are not our enemies. But you have been deceived by this so-called Stormdancer and her thirst for revenge. We seek only justice for the assassination of our Shōgun, Yoritomo-no-miya and his beloved sister Lady Aisha. We have no quarrel with you.
“Daimyo Isamu, I beseech you—cast out the rebels from your city. Turn the Stormdancer over to our authority, and join us in expelling the gaijin from our home. Today can be the dawning of a new age for the Imperium. United, there is nothing we cannot accomplish.
“Open your gates to signify your acquiescence. You have five minutes to comply. If in such time, we have not received word of your assent to Guild authority, with heavy hearts, and heavier hands, we will wipe your clan from the face of Shima.”
Kensai turned off the address system, clasped his hands behind his back. Kin could feel sweat creeping down his face despite the chill, the behemoth’s engines thrumming in his ears.
“Do you think they will concede?” Rei asked.
Kensai shrugged. “We will know in five minutes.”
Rei tensed in his harness. “Perhaps sooner.”
Kin engaged his telescopics, squinting in the dim light and falling snow. He could make out Yama’s walls—towering gray stone, studded with shuriken-cannon and razor wire. All along the battlements, he could see soldiers’ silhouettes. Floating above the city, he saw the sky-fleet—sleek ships painted Kitsune black, nine-tailed foxes adorning their inflatables. Their decks lined with cloudwalkers, bushimen and samurai, all cut like shadow puppets against the lightening sky. Every one of them—every man on the walls, the decks, every single one—struck the same pose, swelling Kin’s heart in his chest.
Fists in the air.
Thousands of hands, raised as one. A gesture of defiance in the face of crushing odds, of courage and solidarity before abject tyranny. It was all he could do not to raise his fist in reply.
“So be it.” Kensai turned to Bo at his comms station. “Send word to all commanders. Full attack on my signal.”
Bo was stabbing at his console, tapping at his microphone. “I seem to have lost communications, Second Bloom…”