“We used to sing songs about them,” she muttered to no one. “Those were the days.”
A notifier flashed on her hand-comm. Kara swiped it.
“That was fast.”
Chi-Qua was leaving the Hall of Records. She delivered a short message: “I don’t understand what I found.”
She sighed. “A few more questions for a sunny day.”
Kara typed her location. Ten minutes later, Chi-Qua strolled casually into the gardens and sauntered over to the bench.
“We’re not going to do this here, are we?” She asked.
“No, but have a seat. Smile. Keep it casual. Did you eat?”
Kara handed over the pipe. Chi-Qua generated a small puff.
“No. I’ve lost my taste for poltash. Are we being watched?”
“If we are, it’s the usual idiots. Rumor wags.”
“Ah. IntraNex joy. What about the security drones?”
“They’re only interested in people who should not be here.”
“Good point. So, how was your luncheon?”
“Maylish was good. Highlight of the day.”
“Ya-Li?”
“Hopeless.”
“Your project team?”
“Curious.”
“That’s a positive.”
“I’ll find out soon enough. Your message was cryptic, Chi. No trouble accessing the records?”
“None. And nobody much seemed to care.”
“Not surprised. Since the Chancellors fell, there’s so much less travel between the colonies. People don’t pay attention like they used to.”
Chi-Qua returned the pipe. “What’s wrong, Kara? You were so excited last night. Now your tone … it’s hesitant.”
“Is it? Too many questions, Chi. That’s all.” She pointed skyward to the rings. “They were here millions of years before us. So much of our identity is tied to them. Every Ascension, we honor those rings, even when logic says they’re poisoning the planet. Why?
“Most of the arable land on the continent is worthless. There’s going to be a war for domination of the seas. The Freelanders have been open about their goals. Yet no one seems afraid. We charge ahead as if life could not be grander. This morning, out of nowhere, Alli Parnish said the issue with the rings is not going away. You should have seen the look on my team’s faces. I changed the subject because I didn’t have time to go down that road. They were relieved. Imagine that! Scientists who don’t want to talk about the greatest threat we’ve ever faced.”
“It’s frustrating. Yes. But what’s your point?”
Kara dropped the pipe into her handbag.
“Let’s say we succeed. We find answers, we take action. We blow it up, Chi. I’ll have finished what my brother started. But I’ll be a pariah, and your family name won’t be rehabilitated. And worse: Will any of it matter? All these changes seem slow, subtle, but inevitable. It’s as if they’re being orchestrated by invisible hands. At least with the Chancellors, we knew who was in charge.”
“Are you getting cold feet again?”
Kara laughed. “No. I’m committed. This is too important. But I go in with eyes open. This will cost us everything.”
“It won’t be a lost cause. We’ll make sure of it. Time to get cracking. Yes?”
“Not an afternoon to waste. I have an idea, Chi. Run across the plaza to TaBo’s, grab your lunch. I’ll take care of my business on the fortieth. I’ll pick you up.”
“And from there?”
Kara grinned, a beautiful solution coming to mind.
“We go where no one will be watching.”
“I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
Kara jumped up. “TaBo’s. Now. Eat. I’ll message on the way.”
She needed to work fast. Like with the morning’s gambit, every step had to make sense to an observer. Kara did not put it past the Executive Board to have placed informants in BRED. If nothing else, it would be a way for her father and brother to keep tabs on her. They might have been off the coast on Ja Yuan’s yacht today, but that didn’t mean they disconnected from the company.
The plan was simple. Gather whatever data her team compiled on High Cannon Collective, use the excuse of her pending nuptials to slip out for another social obligation, and retreat with Chi-Qua to examine the evidence. She didn’t want to seem in too much of a hurry. After all, using shimmer tech was her brilliant idea. Why would she slip away before hearing the team’s initial findings?
Kara didn’t make it past Len Wan at BRED’s Front Reception.
“Welcome back, Kara,” he said. “Have you seen the news?”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, throwing up a vidscreen from his desk plate. A scene of smoke, carnage, and people scampering dominated the screen, with the headlines blaring beneath. Not that Kara needed the visual aide to understand.
“Another bombing?” She asked. “Where?”
“Umkau. They say KumTaan officers and those new piercer drones surrounded a terrorist cell. Freelander filth. Bomb went off inside. Many theories. Maybe suicide. Maybe accidental. Or maybe …”
Kara nodded. “It was a setup to kill KumTaan recruits.”
It wouldn’t have been the first time. Radical Freelander factions – a mix of illegals from the continent and islander recruits – moved with relative impunity for many months while inept law enforcement stumbled to keep up. Only after the Constabulary upgraded its forces and developed fast-response drone tech did the factions target officers.
“Fourth one in three months,” Len said. “We have to do a better job rooting these snakes out of their nests.”
“Do we know how many are dead?”
“No word yet. Sad, really. Wasn’t so many years ago when the Chancellors would’ve eradicated these vermin already. They’d send down those red-clad monsters called peacekeepers, and they’d damn well keep the cudfrucking peace. Excuse my language, Kara.”
“I understand the sentiment, Len. Many things were different back then. We have to resolve this mess ourselves.”
Len threw up his hands. “With what army? The Constabulary?”
“I was thinking more about political and economic solutions.”
“Ah. The slow course.”
She wanted no more of this conversation.
“Any visitors or messages while I was out?”
“No. All’s quiet. No more Hoija Tarons waiting in your office.”
Kara was surprised he didn’t quiz her about luncheon with Ya-Li. Though Len was a true professional, he wasn’t above a fascination with society elite.
Rather than heading straight to her office, Kara made a path toward Alli Parnish. If anyone on the team made quick headway on her proposal to use shimmer tech, it would be Alli. He had the most experience in reverse engineering. Indeed, she found him at his station, enthralled by competing holographics.
“Anything interesting?” She asked with a smile.
“Ah. Good. You’re back. Nice luncheon?”
“Passable.”
“I had a sandwich roll, thank you. Crab lush. Too salty.”
The roll, half-eaten, sat near his primary console.
“Doesn’t appear you made much progress, Alli. Does that mean you were too excited about the data to notice?”
“I am excited. Very much so. But the lush was salty.”
“So, tell me. The data. The schematics. Are we on to something?”
He leaned back in his swivel.
“It’s very possible, Kara, you are a genius. Not bad for a girl who used the family name to push her weight around.”
She didn’t take offense, and he meant none. Kara long ago allayed suspicion of cronyism by demonstrating her engineering acumen. But she did play games to trigger a corporate transfer. She regretted nothing.
“Tell me, Alli. Can it work?”
“Everything you see here is a simulation, but the fundamentals correlate. We’d need weeks to refine the parameters and institute redesign for the convex alignment scoops,
but tight-beam shimmers can succeed. Better yet, these algorithms suggest the potential for extended use on other systems as well. I dare not use the word revolutionary just yet, but we might stand on the verge of genuine opportunity here. Taking a step backward to move forward.”
“Brilliant news. I assume the only thing in our way now is High Cannon Collective.”
“Indeed. None of this works unless they allow us into their dynamic source code. And they don’t give their DSC to anyone.”
She nodded. “Because if that went public, any colony …”
“… could mass produce shimmer tech,” he finished.
“So, if we can’t convince them to join us, we’re sunk.”
“Say hello to Square One.”
“Fair enough, Alli. I want to move quickly. You might have heard. I have a wedding to attend next week. After that, life gets complicated.”
He smirked. “And that’s before the children. Tell me what you need, Kara. I’ll try to make it so.”
“Put together a formal proposal. Make it as glittery as possible. We don’t want to look desperate. High Cannon needs to see this as a potential new revenue stream.”
“Dims talk. I’ll get on it straightaway. Your next move?”
“Make contact with High Cannon. Hopefully, Geo’s been able to …”
“Contact info? Background? He transferred it all to your plate half an hour ago. He should be in the commissary if you need him.”
“Perfect. Have I said how much I love my project team?”
“Not lately, but that will do. I’ll pass along the good word.”
She said hello to the other team members then closed her office door. At her desk, Kara swiped her hand over a round console base – the plate – and searched holographic directories for the data Geo Laan provided. A momentary scan showed this to be what she needed. Now, to violate corporate policy.
She released a thimble-sized memglass from a side slot on her hand-comm and inserted it into the plate. She tossed the new data inside, released the memglass, and restored it to her personal device. The Nantou charter forbid data transfers leaving corporate property without express permission of the Executive Board. Not that it mattered to Kara. The worst violations were yet to come.
After sufficient wait time, she made her excuses and headed toward the parking lodge. Inside the sedan, she made two calls and sent a message to Chi-Qua. She steeled herself for this next, critical stage, knowing full well she was stepping into treacherous water.
She found Chi-Qua waiting outside TaBo’s. After her best friend entered the sedan, Kara asked: “Good lunch?”
“Nourishing.”
“Perfect. Shouldn’t work on an empty stomach.”
“Right. And where are we headed?”
Kara winked. “The place where nobody works, Chi.”
11
I HAVE TO ADMIT, IT’S BRILLIANT,” Chi-Qua said thirty minutes later when they arrived at their destination. “They won’t suspect a thing. You were so overcome by emotion after learning about the wedding, then posing with Ya-Li for the IntraNex wags. They’ll assume you ducked out of work for some quiet time.”
They walked down long stairs built into a rock face over Pantow Beach, an exclusive enclave on the island’s northeast corner. Six private cabanas looked out upon a calm bay. The sand was white and pure. Before she left Nantou, Kara contacted Pantow’s caretaker to prepare the Syung-Low cabana.
“I haven’t been here in three years,” Kara said. “I can’t recall the last time anyone in the family used it. But we keep paying the rent.”
Inside, they found spotless accommodations, a slow-twirling ceiling fan, and items Kara requested: Fruit, blue prawns, wine, beach attire.
“Are we going for a swim?” Chi-Qua asked.
“Hadn’t planned to, but I want it to look good.”
“Nice job. What first? Wine or work?”
“Both.”
“Perfect. We need something to soothe the nerves. I don’t know how we’re going to make sense of this data.”
“We have all afternoon. Father and Dae won’t be back from their communion until late this evening, but Mother will expect me to dine with her and Nan.”
They arranged the food and wine carafes on a wide coffee table and sat close on large pillows. Kara triggered a portable plate and inserted the memglass containing the High Cannon data. Chi-Qua handed over her own memglass.
“I copied the full data stream,” she said. “We have everything for Hokkaido the past eight years, filtered specifically to Lagos customs. I didn’t want to put us at risk but …”
Kara waved her off. “No, no. You did us a favor. And you weren’t the only one violating data-acquisition protocols today. To health!”
They tapped wine glasses amid devious grins.
“Now,” Kara said, “where do we begin? There’s so much.”
“I know where. A simple place. More or less.” She sighed. “You asked about the young man killed at Mal’s Drop. Ryllen? The one Hamilton Cortez shot through the heart.”
“You found something?”
“Not through customs or immigration. There’s no record of any off-worlder establishing permanent residence here since the Chancellors left. Then I had an idea – it was something Ham said. Remember how he called Ryllen a ‘tragic figure?’ Ham said Ryllen’s history was more appalling even than mine, but at least I had the possibility of family. I assumed that meant he was an orphan. Regardless of how it happened, he had to have been on Hokkaido before the Ark Carriers left orbit. The Chancellory’s immigration data isn’t publicly available.”
“So, how did you track him?”
“The one thing no Hokki can escape: The census.”
“Brilliant. And?”
Chi-Qua’s smile dissolved. “I think I understand what Ham meant. Ryllen came from Earth, not the Carriers. He was adopted fifteen years ago by Hosan and Muna-Lin Jee.”
Kara’s memory whirred. “Wait. You don’t mean the Jees who were prominent within Nantou?”
“Until refinery. They were taken down just like my family.”
“I remember now. Hanso was killed during the reprisals. He was friends with Father and Ja Yuan. I don’t recall meeting Ryllen. The other Jees – are they still alive?”
“According to census. But here’s where it turns strange. The last two years, Muna-Lin Jee lists two children, neither of whom is Ryllen.”
Kara felt a shiver. “She can only do that if she legally disowned him. Why? The Jees are already under a cloud. This won’t help.”
“It’s bizarre. Why adopt a small child from Earth anyway?”
The picture cleared. “We know Ryllen was Green Sun. A terrorist. She must have found out, Chi. Disowned him before it went public.”
“I understand where she’s coming from.” Chi-Qua threw back a large swallow of red wine. “Scapegoated for no reason. She didn’t want the Jees thrown into the sewer. At least they could maintain whatever status they had left.”
Kara didn’t argue for Ryllen, though she felt an odd sense of pity for the young man. He never should have been hauled across the galaxy to grow up among people who looked nothing like him. And then, to be deprived of the only identity he knew …
No. This wasn’t her place to judge. Only Chi-Qua understood the humiliation brought on by refinery.
“It’s a sad story all the way around,” Kara said. “I can’t get the picture out of my mind. The laser burn on his chest, the smoke rising from his skin. He was given an unfair hand.”
“Sad, yes. But it also says we’d best steer clear of Hamilton Cortez.”
“Agreed. OK. One small mystery solved. Now, let’s put together the important pieces.”
She ignited holographic schematics and pulled apart the data streams from both customs and High Cannon background research. The process proved as long and tedious as they expected.
The customs data took the longest to sort before any significant trends emerged. The reg
ional governments who assumed control of customs after the Collectorate fell developed patchwork systems. Many reports lacked specifics, including individual identifications and ports of origin. The most frequent missing element: Reason for visit. This proved especially true on the continent.
In the first year after the Ark Carriers departed, intercolonial transit fell more than ninety percent. Commerce – especially in the export of Kohlna fish and other ocean commodities – ground to a near standstill because the primary trading partners lacked shipping. Under the Collectorate, colonial vessels were often leased through Chancellor agencies and captained by Chancellors. The shipping lines, which used the galactic network of wormholes known as the Fulcrum, flourished under strict Chancellor management.
A dearth in activity the first two years after the fall slowly turned into a mild trickle and then, four years later, a steady stream. Old clients reestablished relationships, but most – as Hamilton Cortez pointed out at Mal’s Drop – arrived from worlds that rarely associated with Hokkaido.
The first significant trend caught Kara’s eye when she saw visitors from four specific planets dominate a ten-month stretch.
Moroccan Prime, Zwahili Kingdom, Boer, and Mauritania.
“The dark quadrant,” she said. “We never traded with any of them under the Collectorate.”
“Dark quadrant? I’ve never heard that term before.”
“It’s a xenophobic label. I’ve heard Father use it. Goes back to the early days of forced migration. On Earth about a thousand years ago, the tribes of the African continent staged the last open revolts against the Chancellory. The survivors moved to those worlds. They’re four of the smallest colonies, less than five light-years apart. Most of the Collectorate treated them no different than our ancestors on Earth: Forgotten and dismissed.”
“Ah, yes.” Chi-Qua nodded. “The blackskins. That’s what some of my friends called them in school when we studied Collectorate exobiology. I’ve never seen one in person.”
“They’re humans with different pigmentation,” Kara said. “No less. I’ve heard stories over the years about Zwahili in particular. They say it’s far more advanced than people give credit. Maybe even further along than Hokkaido.”
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