In the governor’s palace, Eiji’s detachment had the final remnants of the rebels cornered. Those left holding holding the governor’s palace had retreated to a single bedroom. They exchanged fire through the doorway for several minutes, but Eiji refused to allow the use of grenades in the cramped quarters.
“Surrender!” several of the Mirai Reizei shouted in the quiet between gunfire. They shouted it again in the old Kolsivite language, and again in the Onji vernacular.
“You are surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned,” Eiji called calmly to the doorway, as they awaited the next move of those inside. “If you surrender now you will not be killed. If you do not, you will not live another ten minutes. There is no no other way.”
There was no translating this if they didn’t understand Sekaiseigo1, but the gist of it was fairly clear in the context.
“There are six of us!” came the tense response. A man’s shouted voice, a Kolsivite accent. “We’re throwing out our weapons now.”
Several guns clattered out from the doorway and onto the tile floor. In the end it was six rifles, like he’d said – not bolt-action antiques but brand new Kolsivite-made fully automatics – and four semi-automatic Kolsivite-made pistols.
“We’re coming out,” called the voice.
“Slowly,” said Eiji, and the Reizei kept their guns trained on the door.
The six men filed out one by one. They were four men of Kolsivite ethnicity and two Onji, all six in traditional Onji garb, their hands in the air. The Reizei followed them with their rifles.
“Knees,” said Eiji. The men settled slowly to their knees on the ground, hands still raised, as if frozen mid-gesture in the act of worship. Eiji’s troops came forward to pull the the captive’s raised hands down, palms to the top of their heads. They hurriedly quickly grope beneath the captive’s robes. There were no other weapons, but one of the Kolsivites was carrying a packet of documents, the import of which was uncertain.
“Friendly incoming, hall doorway!” called a voice from just outside the room. A Mirai soldier, one of those who had been left to guard the rail station, peeked his head in and then entered.
“All clear,” said Eiji. “Report.”
One of the Kolsivites shifted to one knee, planting his other foot on the floor to steady himself. It happened in an instant. His arm extended before him, elbow straightened and palm opened toward Eiji’s head in some weird and ominous gesture: half genuflection, half sorcerer’s curse.
The eeriness of the gesture startled the Mirai Reizei into inaction, and had Eiji’s thoughts been any slower he would surely have been killed. He drew his sword and in the same movement struck the Kolsivite’s arm between the elbow and shoulder, removing it. The arm twisted in the air as it fell, the wrist separating from the hand with the sound of thunder. The wall behind Eiji cracked and spat plaster dust as the bullet struck it and was lodged in.
The Kolsivite clutched the stump of his arm and howled. Several Reizei pointed their rifles at his head, but Eiji called for them to stop.
“He can’t do anything else,” he said. He spoke calmly, but a fresh layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. His brow was knit. “We have to check the others.” He tilted his head back, staring for several moments in silence at the ceiling, as if some humane and tactically acceptable solution might be written on it in code. None were forthcoming.
He sighed quietly, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, almost reluctant to be heard: “…Okay. Pinkies. If bone, they’re clear. If metal, take the whole arm off at the elbow.” He swept his eyes over the captives, who were staring at him in supplicating horror, but they remained silent. “They are to be kept alive, but if you are threatened by any sudden movements, you are authorized to use lethal force.”
After a pause, he added, “The Onji are exempt from the search.”
Eiji turned to the soldier who had just entered. “What do you have to report?” he said, his expression and voice still brittle and hard. His drawn sword was still in his hand. Behind him were muffled shrieks as men lost two fingers each.
“Lieutenant Commander Kurotou reports that the church is secure and confirms eight VIP kills in addition to those at the government building.”
“Church?” Eiji raised his eyebrows.
“The other resistance stronghold was an Onji religious hall,” said the soldier. “Also, the armory trains have arrived.”
Eiji was visibly angry, such that the messenger feared he had misunderstood some part of the information, but after a long pause he seemed to calm himself, and said, “Thank you, Meitetsu.” He turned to the rest of the unit, who had finished performing their amputations. Two more severed arms and six fingers lay in a pile on top of the first arm on the floor. “This operation is complete,” Eiji said. “Rendezvous at the rail station. And someone stow those.”
“The arms, sir?”
“Those arms are captured munitions. The pinkies may or may not be re-attachable, but we’ll leave that up to Med Guild personnel. Bring it all.”
- 世界性語 Sekaiseigo: “The Universal Global Language” ↩
