Heads is Heads, Chapter 18

by Technomad

Noriko Nakagawa

Sitting by the window, Noriko stared out at the Siberian countryside rolling by. It was so different from her familiar Japanese landscape-unlike Japan, where every available inch of space was meticulously cultivated, Siberia was wild and untamed. Endless miles of forests stretched out on either side of the tracks, and towns were few and far between. For a second, she felt racking homesickness-she missed her family desperately, and hoped that they were all right.

The Russians had welcomed them warmly when they arrived at Vladivostok. They had been swept up by the Russian intelligence services, and quizzed intensively about every aspect of the Program-the collars, the venues, the selection process, the weapons distributed, everything they could remember. The more they had told the Russians, the more shocked and angry the Russians had been. Noriko couldn't speak Russian-foreign languages were difficult for native Japanese-speakers, and Russian had many sounds not found in Japanese-but she could easily pick up on non-verbal cues, and Russians were less restrained about such than Japanese were. She had picked up at least one Russian word from what she heard them saying, but she had been warned that nyekulturny was a very bad word, and that using it could easily offend Russians.

She felt someone sitting down beside her, and turned to see Takako Chigusa. "Hi, Takako. How's Shogo?"

Takako looked worried. "Shogo? Ever since we got on the Trans-Siberian Express, he hasn't said a word. He just sits there and stares into space by the hour. He hasn't been eating-or sleeping."

Noriko was worried. They had had a couple of close calls with the intelligence services of the Greater East Asia Republic while in Vladivostok, which was partly why they were being moved across Russia; their train car was private and guarded, and the Russian armed forces were on alert as the Trans-Siberian Express rumbled through. If Shogo-Shogo, the only survivor of two iterations of the Program-was worried, that scared Noriko.

"Let's go talk to him, shall we?" Both girls got up and left the compartment, going down to the common area. The train car was divided into five sleeping compartments, a common area where they could all sit together, and a small kitchen where their meals were prepared. Much to Noriko's surprise, Vladivostok had boasted several Japanese restaurants, and they had a chef aboard who could prepare almost any kind of Japanese food, despite being a blonde Russian.

Sure enough, Shogo was sitting there, staring blankly out at the countryside. Noriko's heart went out to him. He looks like he's staring into hell… Sliding in beside him, she asked gently: "Shogo? Are you all right?" Shogo looked at her blankly, then turned and looked out the window again, not really seeing what was going past. Noriko patted his arm. "Takako's really worried about you, you know. Could you tell us what's wrong?"

Shogo shook himself out of his stupor. "You wouldn't understand, Noriko-and Takako wouldn't either."

"Try us." Takako sat down beside Shogo and took his hand; Noriko could tell that she wanted to slide her arm around his shoulders, but something about his body language made it clear that he wouldn't welcome it. "What are you thinking about?"

"Why I'm still alive. Why I'm still alive after two Programs, when all of my old classmates-and a good few of my new ones-are dead. Why them, and not me?" With that, Shogo turned and stared out of the window again.

Noriko could see that he didn't want to be disturbed, and she got up, respecting his wishes. Gathering Takako with her eyes, she went back up to the compartment they were supposed to be sharing (although there had been a great deal of re-shuffling; couples were sleeping together, and Shinji was apparently deep in pursuit of their pretty blonde chef) for some private talk.

"I was with him before you were, Takako. I'm pretty sure that he's never really forgiven himself for what happened when he first went through the Program." Noriko shook her head. "A lot of the people he killed-he got fourteen in all-were-had been-his friends."

"Oh, merciful Buddha!" Takako closed her eyes, shuddering. "I didn't have to kill any of our classmates myself; I'd have done Kazushi Niida if we hadn't been interrupted, but I can't imagine killing fourteen people! And the last one was his girlfriend…I think he wanted to die bringing the Program down, and he now doesn't quite know what to do with himself."

"I think you're right, Takako." Both girls looked up, slightly startled, as Shuuya Nanahara came into the room. "The Russians provided us with vodka, you know-and we guys almost all got good and plastered one night, to 'celebrate our survival.' You know that alcohol lowers inhibitions. That was probably why the Russians gave it to us in the first place-I think they were monitoring us, just to see what would come out."

"Shogo got toasted?" Noriko was curious to hear what came next. She had always seen Shogo as the type that kept things very much to himself, even more than most Japanese men.

"Yep." Shuuya looked sad. "We were pretty much all bawling like babies before the night was out. I'm worried sick about Miss Ryoko-the director of the orphanage I grew up at. You saw how Yoshitoki reacted when that slime Kamon told us he'd raped her for raising a fuss about us being taken-well, I understood completely. I asked the Russians to try to find out if she's alive. Shinji was crying that his uncle hadn't been able to make it out of the Republic. Mitsuru just missed Japan." Shuuya paused. "Shogo was crying the hardest of all of us. He's really never forgiven himself for killing Keiko. He fought so hard the first time around to try to find her-he wanted her to be the 'winner.'"

"Did it ever occur to him to wonder how Keiko might feel, knowing that she'd survived that way?" Takako asked, her eyes widening. "I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself, if some guy-Hiroki, maybe-did that for me!"

Shuuya shook his head, looking very sad. "I don't think he ever thought about that. He just knows that he killed her after she was trying to save his life. If they'd had more time to talk, she might have been able to talk him down, but between one thing and another, they just didn't."

Takako looked thoughtful. "I think that what we have here is a guy who's been screaming for forgiveness for quite some time. When we get to St. Petersburg, I'll want to talk to the Russians, and see if they've a Japanese-speaking therapist. Come to it, that might be a good idea for all of us." She looked haunted for a second. "There were things going on on that island that'll probably haunt us all till the day we die."

Mitsuko Souma

Mitsuko was wearing some very wispy lingerie, and high heels-and nothing else. She stared into the mirror, to make sure that the makeup she was wearing covered the dark circles under her eyes.

She cursed herself silently for not having paid more attention in school. To her, one Korean town was just like another. If she'd been more attentive, the name "Nampho" would have definitely rung alarm bells in her mind.

When the fishing boat had arrived, she had been horrified to find that, instead of the Republic of Korea, she had landed in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, in the northern part of the peninsula. Unlike the Republic, the Demcratic People's Republic was a dictatorship so iron-fisted that it made the Greater East Asia Republic look like Utopia.

She'd been nabbed before she even could disembark from the boat, and hustled ashore. After a few weeks of gruelling interrogation, she had been told that she'd been assigned to "the Dear Leader's Pleasure Squad," and bundled off to a dormitory where she found herself among a group of other Japanese girls. Some of them had apparently been political dissidents at home who had bought into North Korean propaganda, while other poor souls had apparently been kidnapped by the North Korean intelligence service. One had been only thirteen when she was taken.

She had been briefed on her duties, which were apparently to be part of the "Dear Leader's" harem, and "available" to other top dignitaries of the country. The other girls hadn't had much to say, and she had gathered quickly that every word they uttered, even in what should have been absolute privacy, was overheard and monitored-and that dissent, even minor dissent, was severely punished.

The old crone-she'd been told to call her "Comrade Shin"-who was in charge of them beckoned her. Following obediently, Mitsuko found herself being led into a room where the rest of the "Pleasure Squad" awaited instructions, all of them dressed for an evening in the bedroom.

"You are to entertain the Dear Leader and his close advisors tonight. It is a great honor, and I expect every one of you to be on her best behavior. Disobedience will be severely punished, do you understand?" snapped Comrade Shin, looking at them all like they were something she'd stepped in on the street.

"Yes, Comrade Shin," Mitsuko murmured, along with the other girls. She kept her eyes down and looked as submissive and demure as she could. Inwardly, her mind was beginning to spin with schemes. If I can get this "Dear Leader" wrapped around my finger, I may be able to pull the strings for this entire country! Okay, Mitsuko, it's showtime…for higher stakes than you've ever played before! Go for it, girl!

With the other girls, Mitsuko walked into the Dear Leader's private sanctum, to find herself surrounded by some of the most grotesque-looking older men she'd ever seen in her life. For a second, she found herself flashing back to this smuggled American movie she'd seen…what was the name? Oh, yes-Caligula!

A dwarfish man with a strange, upswept hairdo swooped down and swept Mitsuko up in his arms. She stared at him, unable to believe her eyes, as he leered at her through bottle-bottom glasses. And I thought Toshinori was repulsive! ran through her mind, and she mentally apologized to her old classmate. Compared to this creep, Toshinori Oda was quite attractive-and he could play the violin!

As she was dragged off to a secluded alcove, Mitsuko heard Comrade Shin say "Ah, our newcomer has attracted the attention of the Dear Leader, fortunate girl! See, girls-this could happen to any of you!" Mitsuko shuddered involuntarily, wondering if anything at all, even behind-the-scenes control of this country, could be worth what she was going to be subjected to. This man made Yonemi Kamon, or her stepfather, or anybody else, look like a girl's dream date!

Izumi Kanai

For Izumi, the days since they'd reached Russia had passed in what seemed like a whirlwind. The Russians had been all kindness, falling over themselves to do anything they could for the exiles, but Russia, itself, was still wildly alien in so many ways.

Yet again, she blessed the fortune that had made Kazuo Kiriyama throw in his lot with those who were resisting the Program. Without him, she was sure they'd all be dead. Even now, he was showing what he was made of-he was picking up Russian very quickly, astounding the Russian Intelligence personnel tasked with guarding them from retaliation by the Greater East Asia Republic's own foreign intelligence service.

The others were having a great deal of trouble with Russian, so when they were allowed out at all, they were always accompanied by interpreters, since very few Russians knew any Japanese, and the English they had been taught in school turned out to be horribly inadequate for actual communication, particularly with non-native speakers.

She was walking down the great avenue of St. Petersburg, Nevsky Prospekt, with the other female Program escapees and their minders, just window-shopping. She was overwhelmed by the sheer volume and variety of goods available. Along with the others, she had passed nearly half an hour looking longingly at the mannequins in the window of a lingerie shop, wondering how she'd look in the items they were wearing.

"Not that we need lingerie to make the boys interested, right, girls?" Hirono had snickered. The other girls had all chorussed agreement; at their age, all they needed to do was indicate willingness, and the boys were happy to take it from there. Still, Izumi was female enough to want to look pretty, even if it wasn't necessary.

Everything was different-the language, the alphabet on the signs, which she was just beginning to be able to puzzle out, the architecture, the smells-but it was still a city, and Izumi felt comforted down deep. She was a city girl, born and bred; the vast empty expanses of Siberia and European Russia, between train stops, had spooked her on a level she hadn't realized was even there.

"Tonight we're on the move again. They're going to send us farther on-to somewhere called the 'Kaliningrad Oblast,' Takako piped up. "I'll miss St. Petersburg, but, honestly, without money, window-shopping gets old, and we've been shown most of the sights here."

"They've got a naval base there somewhere, where we're going to be staying. I heard that they were worried that the Greater East Asia Republic was still trying to kill us for escaping," Hirono said. "Once things cool down enough, we'll be let go where we please, and I think they'll have jobs or stipends for us to live on."

Mitsuko Souma

The wooden stake felt rough and splintery against Mitsuko's back as she was tied to it. She was numb, though; she couldn't believe how wrong things had gone, or how fast it had happened. The dawn was breaking, off in the east, across the bleak field where she stood in front of an earthen berm. The stands in the stadium she was in were filling rapidly.

She had thought she was on a roll-establishing leadership over the rest of the "Pleasure Squad" and on her way to becoming the Dear Leader's favorite bit of fluff-when it had all come tumbling down. She couldn't figure out just what had happened.

Probably Comrade Shin, she thought bitterly. That old woman would jump off a cliff if the Dear Leader asked her to, and she hadn't taken well to Mitsuko from the moment they had met. Or it could have been the other Pleasure Squad members; they had been here longer than she had, and had to know better how to work the system.

All she knew was that she'd been grabbed and dragged out of the Pleasure Squad's quarters, and thrown into a jail cell. Her attempts to charm her jailers and interrogators had come to nothing; she had never met men who were less vulnerable to her usual wiles and tricks. Even turning on the tears hadn't impressed them, and that had always worked back home.

She didn't quite understand what charges, if any, had been brought against her, and her requests for a lawyer had only provoked gales of laughter. Before she quite knew what had happened, she had been hustled out here and tied to a stake-and she now saw a squad of men with rifles marching toward her.

Mitsuko straightened her spine, forcing a smile onto her face. I may have lived badly, but at least I can die well! she thought. Then she had another thought-at least, I won't have to put up with the Dear Leader slobbering over me and feeling me up any more! With that, she no longer had to force her smile. Maybe my next life will be better-it couldn't be much worse! She stood proud and straight, as the firing squad took its position.

The sergeant in charge barked: "Jun-bi!" and the squad raised their rifles. "Jyo-jun!" was apparently the command to take aim. In the second before they fired, Mitsuko shouted: "Banzai! The Dear Leader's a repulsive perverted dwarf!" The squad clearly didn't understand Japanese-but the sergeant apparently did; his face turned grey with horror.

One final command, and she saw muzzle flashes. A terrible blow hit her in the middle of her chest, between her breasts, and she felt as though she were falling endlessly. Her last thought was that she wasn't terribly sorry to go.

Takako Chigusa

Takako felt as though she was in the Buddhist heaven. She and her friends were in Baltiysk, in the Kaliningrad Oblast-about as far from the Greater East Asia Republic as it was possible to be and still be on Russian territory-and they were being protected by elements of the Russian Special Forces. For the first time in months, she felt safe.

What was even better than that was that Shogo had improved dramatically. He had had long sessions with a Japanese-speaking therapist in St. Petersburg. When the whole situation had been explained, the Russians had sprung into action, finding a person with a great deal of experience with victims of trauma and loss. With help, Shogo had finally come to terms with his experiences, and now no longer blamed himself for Keiko's loss, or for the other people he'd killed in the Program.

"Your young man is very tough-minded," the therapist, a Doctor Kazakova, had told Takako. "He always was, apparently; he told me about how he often made Keiko cry with his opinions. Most young men quickly tailor their views, at least when they're with their girlfriends, but he didn't. I also got the impression that he did try his best to be good to her."

"Tough-minded, huh? I like that!" Takako smiled. She relished a good argument, and finding a guy who would stand up to her sounded wonderful. "And you say he tried to be good to her?"

"Yes. The thing that he did that haunted him the most was killing her, even though it was completely instinctual-she was pointing a gun, and he thought she was pointing at him. If the silly chit had had the mother-wit to yell 'Look behind you, Shogo!' she might be alive today."

"But would she want to live after killing her boyfriend-or letting him kill himself so she could live?" Takako's eyes had welled with tears. "I don't know if I could live with myself if it had been me!"

"He just wanted her to live. Treat him well, dear. You have a true treasure." With that, Doctor Kazakova had left, leaving Takako with a great deal to think about.

She was doing just that, staring out across the Baltic. The smell of salt water was familiar and comforting; like most Japanese, she had grown up not far from the sea, and although the Seto Inland Sea was nothing much like the Baltic, it was still a touch of home. They were far enough north that now, in June, the sun almost didn't set; even now, at nearly ten-thirty in the evening, the sky was light.

Shogo had come up behind her; she had smelled him even before he wrapped his arms around her. "A penny for your thoughts, Shogo," she teased, relaxing into his embrace.

"Look down the beach." Takako peered in the direction he pointed, and saw something strange. Kazuo Kiriyama and Izumi Kanai, dancing to music only they could hear. Kazuo was leading, with Izumi following like Ginger Rogers with Fred Astaire. Takako's eyes widened. They were dancing extremely well; of course, Kazuo was good at everything, and Izumi was apparently very light on her feet.

"Shall we join them?"

"No. Let's leave them to it." Shogo took Takako gently by the arm, and steered her back to the building where their quarters were. "I don't want to intrude. Especially on them."

As they walked back, she thought she heard him murmur:

"We can only learn so much and live."

FINIS