Transmigrant - Chapter 6
Copyright © 2024, 2025 Stephen B. Anthony
The stars are a guide, but it’s his heart that must lead him. I pray he finds the strength to break free from the past and shape a future where he can truly live—not just survive.
—Christine Silman Decker
CHAPTER 6
Morning on the Shinobi started early with the sound of clanging metal and the low hum of the docking bay as workers loaded crate after crate of supplies. The ship’s cargo bay buzzed with activity, as if the vessel itself were awakening to the day’s demands. Ichiro quickly roped Ray, Kaylie, and Estia into helping organize the influx of goods.
“This is a lot of stuff,” Kaylie remarked, watching yet more deliveries make their way across the docking bay en route to the ship. The workers moved with practiced efficiency, but even they seemed slightly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of supplies.
“If you don’t mind, I could use your help sorting through everything,” Ichiro said, nodding to the manifest in his hand. “Make sure it’s all in order and has a spot.”
Ray glanced around the cargo bay, taking in the sight of numerous crates being moved into position by robotic arms. The air was thick with the scent of fresh metal, plastic, and the faint, lingering aroma of synthetic grease. “What’s all this for?” he asked, curiosity tinged with apprehension as he noticed labels indicating everything from fuel cells to survival gear.
“Refueling and outfitting,” Ichiro replied, handing Ray the manifest. “The Shinobi is a new ship. I took delivery of it just before I found you in your barn. It’s never been fully outfitted before. We’ve got fuel cells for the ATV, crates of wilderness survival gear, clothing, foodstuffs—everything I’ll need for extended missions.”
Kaylie peered into one crate, pulling out a neatly folded set of thick, insulated clothing. The fabric was durable, designed to withstand extreme conditions. “This looks like winter gear. Where are you headed?” she asked, a note of curiosity and concern in her voice.
Ichiro gave a small smile as he directed a robotic arm to place a large crate of groceries in the corner. The crate bore the insignia of Galactic Outfitters, a premium gear supplier. “I’m preparing for any environment. Could be icy, could be desert. The fleet has us ready for anything.”
Estia’s fingers traced the labels on another crate, her expression thoughtful. “There’s so much here—more than you’d need for just a short trip. Why all the extra supplies?”
Ichiro’s expression turned serious as he motioned for them to organize the gear. “I may need to be self-sufficient for a while. Better to have too much than too little. There’s no telling where my missions might take me, and I don’t intend to leave anything to chance.”
Ray’s hands tightened around a crate of fuel cells as he heaved it into place. The weight of the crate felt substantial, grounding him in the reality of their preparations. “You’re expecting trouble, aren’t you?” His voice was steady, but a flicker of unease passed through his eyes.
Ichiro met Ray’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It’s always a possibility. I need to be prepared for anything.”
The ship’s cargo bay was large, but as the supplies continued to arrive, it felt cramped. The crew worked methodically, unpacking and storing the gear, each box and crate a reminder of the unknown challenges Ichiro might face.
“What about the other cargo bay?” Ray asked.
“Need to save that space,” Ichiro said. “Just in case.”
Kaylie looked up from a box of rations, her thoughts drifting to the previous day’s revelations. The monotony of the work allowed her mind to wander, revisiting old fears and new uncertainties. “Ichiro, do you really think the transmigrant program has been running for centuries?”
Ichiro paused in his work, considering his words carefully. “Yes, I do. It’s one of the galaxy’s best-kept secrets. Most people live their lives without ever knowing what’s really going on.” His voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words, as if he carried the burden of that knowledge with him.
Ray, now organizing medical supplies, felt a familiar knot of anger tightening in his chest. The neatly packed first aid kits and diagnostic tools seemed a cruel reminder of the suffering his people had endured. “People need to know the truth,” he said, his voice low but firm. “They need to know what’s been done to them.”
Kaylie nodded in agreement, her voice heavy with regret. “I worked for Niruku. I thought they were a force for good—helping people, advancing science. But now, knowing what I know—it’s sickening. If I had known, I would never have been part of it.” She could feel the weight of her own complicity, the role she had played in the very system she now despised.
Estia, who had been quietly stowing away wilderness gear, looked up with determination in her eyes. Her usually calm demeanor was replaced by a fierce resolve. “We can’t let this continue. We have to do something.”
Ichiro, stacking crates of foodstuffs, glanced over at Ray, sensing the tension building within him. The crates were heavy, not just in weight, but in the responsibility they represented. “Ray tried to expose the truth. He sent out messages, but it nearly got him killed.” The words hung in the air, a reminder of the dangers they all faced.
Kaylie’s hands paused over a crate as she absorbed Ichiro’s words. The implications of what he was saying settled over her like a heavy blanket. “My mother is a senator. She has influence. Maybe she can help us.” The idea of reaching out to her mother felt both comforting and terrifying, as if she were teetering on the edge of a precipice.
Ichiro nodded thoughtfully, his mind already considering the possibilities. “It would be good to get in touch with her. If she’s willing to listen, it could be a game-changer.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Kaylie said, her voice resolute, though a flicker of doubt lingered at the edges of her confidence.
Ray, moving on to a new task, couldn’t shake the sense of frustration gnawing at him. The work was repetitive, almost mind-numbing, but it did nothing to dull the anger simmering beneath the surface. “My mother worked in the birthing lab, trying to fix what Niruku broke. They blamed her when it failed. I was ashamed of her for so long—but now I see. They never wanted us to succeed. And now I’m ashamed of myself for thinking poorly of her.”
Ichiro placed a hand on Ray’s shoulder, a gesture of solidarity that felt both comforting and heavy with unspoken understanding. “Your mother was a victim of their manipulation, just like so many others. But we have the chance to change things.”
“I’m going to find a way to stop Niruku,” Ray said.
“You’re not alone in that,” Estia added, her voice firm.
The atmosphere in the cargo bay shifted subtly as Ichiro’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the faces of his impromptu crew. “That puts us all on the same team. Niruku won’t give up on any of you, so we need to be diligent. Thankfully, we have an inside man to keep us informed of their plans.”
“We do?” Kaylie asked, her curiosity piqued. The idea of an inside source was both intriguing and unsettling.
“An inside woman, actually,” Ichiro said with a knowing smile. “In any case, I’m glad to hear you’re all on board with opposing Niruku. It’s time we consider making this arrangement more official. I’m asking all of you to join my crew.”
Kaylie’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. The idea of being part of a crew—an actual crew—felt strange, almost surreal. “What exactly do you mean by making it official? We’re not just going to stay here, are we?”
Ichiro’s gaze drifted to the cargo bay door as another load of supplies was wheeled in. The sound of the heavy doors sliding open echoed through the bay. “There’s a mission coming up. Your skills and insights could be invaluable.”
“What kind of mission?” Ray asked, his voice cautious.
Ichiro’s lips curled into a small smile, though his eyes remained serious. “A retrieval operation at a new planet. Simple in concept, but it might get complicated. We’ll know more after I meet with Captain Lamond, who heads the special operations division.”
“Special operations?” Kaylie’s voice wavered between anxiety and excitement. The phrase conjured images of espionage, sabotage, and high-stakes intrigue. “Spy stuff?”
“Not quite,” Ichiro said cryptically, his tone revealing nothing more. “Niruku is involved. Most of my missions involve them in some way. They have their hands in too many pies.”
Estia, who had been listening intently, spoke up, her voice calm but questioning. “What’s the fleet’s motivation? Why do they keep dealing with Niruku?”
Ichiro’s expression darkened, the weight of his experiences evident in the lines of his face. “Money and secrecy. Niruku extorts the fleet for a great deal of money every year. My job is to reveal the truth, so we can make informed decisions.”
Ray couldn’t hide his frustration. The crates, the supplies, the ship itself—none of it seemed to matter when faced with the enormity of what they were up against. “A new planet? So, another forgotten planet with transmigrants left to die?”
Ichiro hesitated, then spoke with a quiet, regretful tone. “The planet is being terraformed. The colonists there passed away decades ago. We’re not saving anyone this time, Ray.”
The room fell silent, the weight of Ichiro’s words sinking in like a heavy fog. Ray clenched his fists, anger simmering just beneath the surface. He turned away, his frustration boiling over into a need for action. “I need some air.” Without another word, he stormed out of the cargo bay, the sound of his boots echoing through the corridor as he left the others in tense silence.
Kaylie and Estia exchanged concerned glances as Ichiro sighed deeply, the sound heavy with the burdens of leadership. “I’ll talk to him,” Ichiro said, his voice heavy with responsibility. “He’s been through a lot, but he’s strong. We need him, not just for this mission, but as part of our team.”
Kaylie nodded, understanding the depth of Ray’s pain. “We can’t ignore what he’s going through.”
“No, we can’t,” Ichiro agreed. “And we won’t. We’re in this together.” He left Kaylie and Estia in the cargo bay, still sorting plastic-wrapped new clothing into bins, the work feeling almost mundane in contrast to the weight of their conversation.
He found Ray in his berth, the small space feeling even smaller in the aftermath of their discussion. Ichiro knocked softly on the door. “Can we talk?”
Moments later, Ray opened the door and stepped aside to let Ichiro in. The room was spartan, the bed neatly made, a small table with a tablet, and a few personal items the only signs of life. “Sorry about slamming the door,” Ray said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ichiro said, waving off the apology as he sat at the desk. The metal chair creaked slightly under his weight. “I’m sorry. I could have handled the situation better.” He looked at Ray with a mixture of empathy and regret, the lines around his eyes softening as he spoke.
Ray sat across from him, his frustration palpable in the tension of his posture, the set of his jaw. “We’re tools to them, not people. They use us and discard us when we’re no longer useful. What’s the point of any of it?” His voice was raw with barely restrained anger.
Ichiro leaned forward, his voice firm but gentle, like a hand reaching out in the dark. “Niruku may have taken part of your life—the lives of your people. But if you let them take your soul too, that’s on you.”
Ray’s eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and uncertainty. “But I’ve probably only got a few years left,” he said, his voice laced with despair. “What have I done? I’ve farmed for ten years. I’ve done nothing. I am nothing.” The words came out harsher than he intended, a reflection of the inner turmoil he struggled to control.
Ichiro’s expression softened, his voice taking on a tone of quiet insistence. “So, change that. Be something. Do something that matters. Help me with this mission. Make sure the lives of those colonists weren’t in vain. Make sure their sacrifice means something.” His words were a challenge, but they were also an invitation—a way forward, a path out of the darkness.
Ray’s frustration bubbled to the surface, his voice rising. “It’s always about sacrifice—every single time. And we never have a choice. Most of us don’t even realize we’re sacrificing. My people are so brainwashed they don’t even recognize what’s happening. It’s too late for the colonists on Tellarius. They’re still alive, but they’ve accepted their fate.” The anger in his voice was raw, unfiltered, the result of years of bottled-up emotions.
Ichiro’s gaze remained steady. “It’s not too late for the people of Tellarius.”
“They’re all going to die,” Ray shot back, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “They’re all going to die.”
“We all die,” Ichiro said, meeting Ray’s gaze with unwavering intensity. “All of us.”
“Yes, but we get less than half of a real life,” Ray said bitterly, the words heavy with the weight of truth. “We don’t even live the lives we have; we just follow the programming. My whole people are like that. I don’t know how to reach them. All I’ve done is focus on farming, despite claiming I’m different. I have nothing to be proud of.” The confession was painful.
Ichiro allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips, his tone lightening just enough to cut through the tension. “Pride at your age isn’t advisable, anyway. Self-confidence is good. Pride—not so much. Pride comes with age, when you look back and see your accomplishments, when you see your children and grandchildren turned out well, when you know you left the galaxy a better place. That’s something to be proud of. But being proud or ashamed of the people who came before you? That’s almost meaningless. You aren’t them. You are you.”
Ray sighed deeply. “Maybe I used the wrong word. I feel like my life doesn’t have value.”
Ichiro’s voice was steady, reassuring. “You are your own person, with a sharp mind. Every decision you make from here on out will shape your life, no matter how long or short it is. You are who you decide to be. You’re not just a product of your lineage. You’re a product of your choices and experiences. Nobody can change their genetic makeup, trueborn or transmigrant.”
“You’re saying that aside from shorter lives, we’re not that different. But we are different.”
Ichiro nodded. “What’s different is your past and future. You can’t live your past, and you can’t live your future. All you can do is live in the present. So, will you dwell on the past, or will you live now to create a better future?”
Ray’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a sense of clarity beginning to settle over him. “I want to create a better future. I want to live now.” The words were simple, but they carried a weight of determination that had been absent before.
Ichiro nodded, a sense of satisfaction in his expression. “Every moment is a gift that we unwrap with our actions. What we do with that gift defines the legacy we leave behind. Don’t get so lost in revenge that you forget to live.”
Ray’s gaze dropped, his voice quieter now, more reflective. “But what they did to us—”
“Yes,” Ichiro interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “What they did to you was wrong. And it’s okay to set it right. But don’t do it out of hate. Let that go. Set it right because it’s the right thing to do. Justice, not vengeance. Don’t cross that line. Meanwhile, you have a chance to live, so live. Take Kaylie out there. She’s risked everything to do what she thinks is right. She’s done it, not because she hates, but because she loves. If you are truly going to live your life—your best life—do it out of love, not out of hate. Hate leads down a dark and unfulfilled path. Love leads to peace and a full life.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Ray whispered, almost to himself.
Ichiro leaned forward, looking at Ray intently. “Of course you can. You need to decide what to do with the time you have left. Choose to act, not because you hate those who wronged you, but because you love your people. Don’t give up on them. Don’t give up on yourself. Every hour you spend angry is an hour you didn’t spend happy. You are who you choose to be. There’s a proverb that says the best revenge is to live well. Take that to heart. If you live poorly, then they’ve won.”
Ray sighed again, deeply, as if a weight were slowly lifting from his shoulders. “I’ve been angry most of my life, but I still followed the road they set before me.”
“You have the choice to do something different. So do it. Help me with this mission.”
Ray met Ichiro’s gaze, a newfound resolve in his eyes. “I’m one hundred percent on board with helping you. I just need to figure out how to channel my negative energy into positive actions.”
Ichiro stood, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “Helping me is a start. And all you can do is take each day and make a new start. Give it some thought. I’ll be on the bridge.”
Kaylie paced restlessly in her cabin, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The idea of going on a mission with the fleet was both thrilling and terrifying. Her mother would be horrified. Her father? Well, he might be proud. It was funny how they had different perspectives, how the same situation could be seen through such different lenses.
Earlier, she had received a message from them. They were in Andonia for a session of Congress, likely to last several more weeks. Her mother had insisted she come to Andonia to be protected by the congressional secret service. Her father had suggested she use her digital passport less often, provided she felt safe on the Shinobi.
She had declined the offer to go to Andonia. Not only was it overrun with Niruku operatives, but she would also need to travel on public transportation, which she couldn’t do with Estia in tow. That option was out of the question. Yet, as much as she knew staying on the Shinobi was the right choice, part of her longed for the safety her mother offered—a safety that now seemed so far removed from the path she was on.
Feeling the pent-up energy, she left her cabin and headed to the lounge, where she found Ray reading from a tablet. He looked more relaxed than he had earlier, though the tension in his posture hadn’t completely disappeared. She sat on the couch perpendicular to his, the cushions soft beneath her as she tried to find a comfortable position.
“Are they still on the bridge?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Ray said, glancing up from his reading. “He’s teaching her about the stealth system.”
Kaylie nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. After a moment, she looked at Ray, her expression thoughtful. “What do you think of Ichiro? Trustworthy?”
Ray looked up, considering her question. His eyes reflected a mixture of thoughts, each one carefully weighed. “So far, yeah. I admire him, actually. He’s straightforward and, as far as I can tell, honest.”
“At least as honest as special operations can be,” Kaylie said, a wry smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Ray smirked, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. “You might have a point. But he seems genuinely concerned about me. He’s given me some good advice.”
“I think so too,” Kaylie agreed. She could see the changes in Ray, the way his anger had shifted into something more productive. It was a small change, but it was there.
“You’re okay with going on the mission with him?” Ray asked.
Kaylie hesitated, then nodded. “I’m worried about Estia,” she admitted, her voice tinged with concern.
Ray tilted his head, his curiosity deepening. “What’s her story? She’s kind of strange. Doesn’t talk much.”
Kaylie sighed, choosing her words carefully. She felt a level of trust with Ray and Ichiro, but some secrets needed to be kept. “She’s an orphan, really. Her upbringing was far from normal. She’s naive, but a very good person.”
“But why did you take her?” Ray asked, his voice gentle but insistent.
“They didn’t see her as a person with agency, just as a number, a thing,” Kaylie said.
Ray put the tablet aside and looked at Kaylie with a newfound understanding. The pieces were starting to come together, the puzzle of Estia’s life slowly taking shape in his mind. “I definitely know how that feels.”
Kaylie met his gaze, finding comfort in his empathy. “How do you feel about the mission?”
Ray sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his thoughts. “Like I’ll be doing something positive. At least I hope so.”
“In what way?” she asked gently, her curiosity genuine.
“I need to do something for my people. All along, I’ve felt different, acted differently, believed differently. But I still did exactly what they wanted me to do. A quarter of my life growing food. It’s a noble enterprise, but I don’t like being forced to do it against my will.” The words came out in a rush, a reflection of the internal struggle he had been grappling with for years.
Kaylie nodded, understanding his frustration and his desire for something more. “It seems like you have a choice now.”
“Right,” Ray agreed, a hint of determination in his voice. “I do. And I’m on board with this mission. But ultimately, nothing has really changed. I’m still following a path laid out by someone else.” The realization was bittersweet, a reminder that even in rebellion, he had still been bound by the systems he sought to escape.
“True, but we all do that,” Kaylie offered, trying to be supportive, though she knew the words rang hollow.
Ray shook his head slightly, his voice tinged with frustration. “I feel the need to seize control of my destiny. It’s a short life, and while I’m committed to this mission, I’m going to strike out on my own once it’s over. It’s time to find my place in the universe.”
“Wow,” Kaylie whispered, almost to herself. She had heard these thoughts before—most people had them—but rarely with such conviction and determination. She felt adrift, not knowing what would happen to her and Estia, feeling completely unaccomplished. Ray shared that feeling, but he was determined to change it. “I’m sure you will,” she said.
Ray looked at her curiously, his expression softening. “What’s that?”
“Find your place in the universe,” she said, a sense of longing in her voice. “I wish I could.”
Ray smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to show a glimpse of the person he could be. “I think your place is helping Estia right now. You did something good for someone else. I admire that.”
Kaylie looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. The words were kind, but they didn’t ease the doubts gnawing at her. “Thank you,” she said softly. But she didn’t feel like she’d found her place. The secrets she couldn’t share haunted her as she sat there with him. She felt both envy and admiration for Ray’s determination and conviction, a strange mixture of emotions that left her feeling more unsettled than before.
They were joined in the lounge by Ichiro and Estia, who were just finishing up a conversation about the navigation system. Estia’s eyes were bright with curiosity, her usual reserve replaced by an eager interest in the technology Ichiro was explaining.
“We got a lot accomplished today,” Ichiro said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “Thank you all for helping. I very much appreciate it. Ray, since you don’t have a VRD, I’m going to give you some credsticks in case you want to get dinner delivered to the ship. I need to return to my office for a bit, but I’ll be back later.”
“What about the mission?” Kaylie asked.
“Assuming you’re in, we’re going to have a mission briefing with Ellen Lamond on Thursday afternoon.”
“So, what do we do for the next two days?” Ray asked.
“Get to know the ship. And each other,” Ichiro said. “It’s safest to stay here. You should have everything you need. I’ll be back.”
Transmigrant is available at Amazon & Audible.