Kara planted the second raindrop and breathed easier.
“Then you must be considering a new product line.”
“We are.”
“What does it entail, if I might ask?”
“You can ask, but the future is classified. It is, however, very exciting. You might even find a twinkle in my brother’s eye if he were willing to broach the topic. Hen-Bo focuses only on the future.”
“So, there’s really nothing my engineers can be saying to yours right now to turn the tide?
“Doubtful. They aren’t receiving lip service, if that’s what you’re implying. No, Dev and Han-So treat their craft like an art. They would not waste their time with amateurs. Nothing may come of their talks, but your men should leave here proud of their work.”
Little of this conversation – or what took place in the presentation room – made sense to Kara. No seamaster, or any contractor she knew, would pass on an opportunity for a new revenue stream based on existing products. Had these people become so arrogant that mere modifications were beneath them? Or was something else at work? Kara didn’t want to stretch her paranoia further than it already was.
“I’ll pass along your message to Alli and Geo. I seem to recall you mentioned something yesterday about showing me a Mangum sunset. I realize it’s a little early, but I’d like to experience the view. I haven’t had a chance to look out over the island. That’s the problem with Scrams – no windows.”
Chin Sun led the way to the east side of HCC and upstairs to the roof, which featured garden boxes and long benches. The sun, a pale orange, sat twenty degrees above the horizon. A forest of spindle palms spread out from the building, forming a canopy roof high.
The ocean view was spectacular and uninterrupted. No ships. The nearest island more than seventy kilometers away. The breeze was steady and cooling.
Kara gathered her bearings and determined where the Queen Mab would approach in a few hours.
“It’s a gorgeous view,” she said, nearing the edge. “You can’t do this on Pinchon – look across the island without your view being obscured by skyscrapers or giant estate homes. We have many beautiful vistas, but the island has a rugged geography. Mangum is flat. I love this panorama. You must come here often.”
“Most days.” Chin Sun motioned for Kara to take a seat on the bench. “Depends upon my hours. I like a nice cup of tea while watching sunrise or sunset. I’m at my most reflective. Do you have a favorite spot on Pinchon?”
“I do, actually. Bongwoo Curl. Tall cliffs. Thousands of seabirds. Very windy. It’s one of the few unspoiled landmarks on Pinchon. It feels like it must have before our ancestors emigrated here.”
“Ah. You mean when they were forced here by the Chancellors.”
“That too. You sound like perhaps you might be a Freelander.”
She sighed. “Not as such, but I do sympathize. They’re not wrong about our origin story, Kara.”
“No. But sometimes I feel they go overboard.”
“They can be somewhat … angry. But I think as time passes, we’ll learn more about Chancellor injustices. The Freelanders were once an afterthought. Now they have supporters everywhere, including The Lagos. Ten years ago, who would have imagined?”
Kara didn’t want to dive into geopolitics or history. She was in the perfect place to finish her mission. One more sleight of hand.
“I could sit here for hours,” she said. “Is it always this quiet?”
“There are less people on this island than a single city block in Pinchon. And almost all of those live a kilometer north of here. So yes, it is always this quiet, Kara.”
“And these celebrations on Daselin? What do they entail?”
“Many things. Traditional games. Readings of Hokki literature. Athletic contests. Song. Dance. And a fair share of imbibement. Each week, different families organize the event and prepare the summation feast. The children in particular have a valued role.”
“Which is?”
Chin Sun shaded her eyes. “It varies. I’d best not divulge anymore. Daselin festivals are truly reserved for the HCC community. We’re unique here, and we intend to remain so. It’s the way Sho Parke intended it.”
Kara didn’t know what to believe. HCC was bringing in clients from several worlds on these so-called days of celebration. The festival – if it existed at all – had to be a diversion. After a few moments of reflective silence, Kara decided to make her final move. She reached into a side pocket and nabbed the final raindrop.
“I don’t want to keep you and your team any longer,” she told Chin Sun. “You’ve been more than gracious.”
As Chin Sun rose, Kara moved quickly to press the raindrop against the rear of the bench and released. The rest was beyond her control.
“I will submit a favorable report,” Chin Sun said as they started back. “All three of you were excellent.”
Kara thought now was best to return to honorifics.
“Thank you, Honorable Miss Tyce.”
“And I look forward to soon calling you Honored Miss Taron.”
When they returned to the main level, Chin Sun did not turn right, which would have led Kara back to the presentation room. Instead, she continued forward.
“I have been meaning to ask you one question, Honored Miss Syung. I wasn’t sure when to bring it forward. Now, I suppose, is as good a time as any.”
“Yes?”
Chin Sun pointed to a door coming up on their left.
“I always expect potential clients to perform due diligence in advance of working with HCC. We have a long and illustrious but at times controversial history. So, no question is too surprising. However, I received a strange report this morning.”
“You did?”
“Yes. It came from a contact in Pinchon. You see, we value our privacy, and we like to monitor certain … behaviors.”
Kara didn’t like where this was headed.
“What do you mean?”
“It appears you ordered a detailed analysis of our customs documentation. I’m curious, Honored Miss Syung. How might Mangum Island Customs Records post-Collectorate have assisted you in advance of our meeting?”
Chin Sun stopped outside the door but did not wave her hand over the printlock. Her face was robbed of any generosity. Kara didn’t know what to say, but the sudden cold shiver said enough.
“I like to be thorough. As a project leader, I consider it my job.”
“Hmm. Perhaps you do. I appreciate ‘thorough.’ But this time, you might have overstepped. Nonetheless, I have enjoyed our time together.” She waved her hand, and the door slid open. “I wish you all the best, Honored Miss Syung.”
Chin Sun turned away and continued down the corridor. The shiver turned to terror when Kara realized she had no choice but to continue inside. I was so careful.
The room was small. A single round table. Dim recessed lighting.
Three people waited on the far side of the table, not one of them rising as she entered.
Perr and Li-Ann Syung cast a pall, their rage barely contained. Dae Syung wouldn’t look at her, his cheeks red, as if he’d been crying.
“I told you to stay within the narrows, Daughter,” her mother said. “Why do you never listen?”
Kara didn’t have a chance to defend herself, and the words weren’t there even if she knew how. She heard footsteps closing from behind.
The prick against her neck was brief, the pain manageable.
And then, there was no more.
29
F IVE HOURS LATER, THE RAFT DEPARTED from the Queen Mab on a calm sea under a starry sky. The raft’s tiny engine hummed as it approached Mangum Island from a thousand meters bearing southwest. The island carved out a silhouette marked only by a few tiny lights, most in the distance. Toward the middle of the island, far from the target zone, the glow of a village rose like a candle in fog. No one said a word, per Ham’s orders. Behind them, the Queen Mab submerged to hide away until pickup, Lan Chua the only
one onboard. This strange peace settled Ryllen.
The last time he was on the ocean, Ryllen cruised aboard Lan’s Quantum Majesty. The trip was a gift from Kai, a chance to show him the bigger world Green Sun fought to preserve. Ryllen saw Kai’s devotion and in turn, he developed the first inklings of love. The commitment made it easier to kill anyone who might spoil the best of Hokkaido. Immos were simple targets. Desperate, dirty, isolated. Those Hokkis did not deserve the benefits of The Lagos.
Kai’s hair was blue the day they returned from the four-day excursion. He and Ryllen shared a pipe standing on the deck, surveying the symphonic chaos called the Port of Pinchon.
“Scaring these people isn’t enough,” Kai said of the illegals. “They have to learn a simple lesson. If they corrupt The Lagos, they die.”
It made sense. If we can’t preserve our way of life, what else will we sacrifice? We are the salvation and future of the Hokki people.
Ryllen lived those ideas heart and mind every day, every mission, every kill. All the way to that night at Ronin Swallows, when they prepared to ambush immos before finding themselves on the receiving end of blast rifles. Kai’s hair was green. Flash pegs savaged his body. And when it was over, and there was nothing left to do but run, Ryllen remembered the man responsible.
Eyes, beady and capricious. Voice, cold and imperious.
Are you there? Ryllen studied the silhouette of Mangum. Where are you, Shin Wain? Do you know I’m coming?
The peace of certainty. Ham might not have felt it, and maybe the other Green Sun soldiers were uneasy about what lay ahead. Not Ryllen. This tiny island was the end of his crusade.
You won’t be the only body I leave behind tonight.
At five hundred meters from shore, his ear fob vibrated. Ham’s voice murmured, as if at the lowest setting of an auditory test.
“Tap once to indicate you hear me,” said Ham, manning the raft’s engine. Ryllen, at the bow, complied. “Now, double-tap and whisper your first name as if telling me your most shameful secret.”
They responded in unison, never competing with the engine.
“I have confirmed the blinders are active,” he continued. “HCC’s security network will not see us. Miss Syung did her job. Now, do yours. Lower your DL band over your eyes and acclimate.”
Each member activated their Dark Light head band, an effective night-vision tool. They were still too far from shore to detect any human presence, but the bands required a minute to integrate with the user. They were the best Ham could offer. DLs were scaled down Unification Guard tech via the black market, using components once fully integrated into a peacekeeper’s helmet. Ham sometimes told Ryllen of his days soldiering on other colonies before transferring into Special Services. Ham spoke of night battle as the most satisfying because the indigo enemy thought it had a chance.
“When we hit the sand,” he whispered, “step lively. Our landing zone features a canopy of trees encroaching upon a narrow beach. You must work as a team to secure this raft from an exposed position. Remember, you will have two ways to leave: By raft or freestyle. The latter will be problematic if you don’t know how to swim.”
Ham wasn’t trying to be funny. A surprising number of Hokkis in Pinchon – “the landed,” they were called – flourished in the city without ever showing interest in the sea. Ryllen learned to swim within a year of his arrival on Hokkaido; he assumed all Green Sun agents knew how. Why would anyone volunteer for a beach landing if disaster meant they might sink like a rock?
Ryllen didn’t care. Other than Mei, he didn’t know these agents. They joined after Ronin Swallows. They weren’t his brothers and sisters any longer. He focused on Jai and Joa, the fraternal twins who specialized in collider pistols and were not impressed by his own knowledge of weapons.
Smug assholes, he thought. Don’t get in my way.
Nonetheless, Ryllen followed orders through the landing, as the six of them carried the raft into hiding while Ham checked his equipment and surveilled the path inward to High Cannon Collective. Ham cut an ominous yet streamlined figure in his dark, full-length bodysuit with jacket and utility belt. Before today, Ryllen never saw the man wear anything other than a Sak’ne suit. For tonight, he returned to his Chancellor template.
The final stage began with hesitance. Ham informed the team of a few changes to his original projections. They would need to veer farther south along a new path close to the water and turn sharply inward. He split the team into two groups, taking point ahead of Ryllen plus Green Sun agents Po Wynn and Myra Faun, neither of whom engaged in random chit-chat on the sub but struck Ryllen as having an intense focus for detail. Ham intended his group to stay close to the beach, while Mei Durin led Jai and Joa Zaan ten meters deeper into the flora but on a similar trajectory.
Ham insisted on comm silence unless anyone spotted movement. The objective: Swing around HCC to its transport facility, which included not only a parking lodge for rifters and small sedans, but also drone loaders and the biggest real estate: a landing port sufficient to accommodate system ships. This area, he insisted, offered the greatest potential to understand what was happening here. To that end, he warned the team before leaving Queen Mab:
“Surveillance requires extraordinary patience. We lack a time frame for an off-world arrival, so we might be lying in wait for hours. I suspect these events take place under cover of night, but there are no guarantees. We might find ourselves pulling out at dawn having accomplished nothing. Be vigilant at the quietest moment. You will not be in control; this won’t resemble one of your sneak attacks on illegals. No one makes a move without my word.”
Ryllen didn’t object to the last point, but he also wasn’t making any promises. Along the trek, Ryllen saw Ham tap-tapping his right temple. He was working a stream amp, the biomechanical implant all Chancellors possessed from an early age. Though the device, a communicator for great distances, was nullified by the Guard after Ham’s defection, he was still able to utilize its internal data storage to analyze their strategy. On occasion, he bemoaned the loss of his amp’s full capabilities.
“I used to think it made me less human,” Ham said, “but it only makes me less a Chancellor. There are worse fates.”
Two hundred meters along their journey, HCC came into view through a thick canopy of spindle palms and waist-high tropical understory. Ryllen was underwhelmed. The Dark Light made clear the building’s unremarkable quality. It was a bland edifice, a giant white box. This was the place where all paths led? Where the future of Hokkaido might be lurking? Where interplanetary conspirators met for purposes unknown? Ryllen saw more exciting storage warehouses at the Port of Pinchon.
“Hoods up,” Ham whispered. “Prepare for contact.”
The team made a slight inward turn to work around the facility. Still, the DLs picked up no sign of movement. Ryllen concluded Ham might be right: Activity wasn’t going to kick up around here for hours – if at all. Daselin did not begin for another hour.
His ruminations ended with a literal flash.
At a gap between the palms, the noon sun appeared to make an appearance, followed by an impossible sound bringing dangerous life to a quiet night.
Thunder.
Once. Twice.
Three deafening cracks under a clear sky.
The imitation sunlight died within seconds, as if swallowed whole.
Something descended beyond the palms, difficult to register. The object was huge. No running or landing lights. It faded into the nocturnal landscape, soundless.
Ryllen wasn’t sure to trust his eyes. He thought the object was round, and yet something was moving on its surface.
Fire?
He turned to Ham, who said nothing, fixated on the same location. The ex-Chancellor spoke into his mic.
“Hold positions.”
Ryllen came to his side. “What was that?”
“Certainly not a system ship. I don’t want to venture a guess until I have eyes on it. Another fifty meters.”
Ryllen didn’t like the bewilderment in Ham’s voice. He was Special Services. Why would he need to guess?
“Listen,” Ham told the team. “You should be detecting movement soon. Watch your flank and the ground ahead. The slightest noise will compromise our position. Appears our wait will be short.”
Mei piped in. “Weapons hot?”
“No. First, we see what we’re facing. Yes?”
“I’ll try to keep the twins under control.”
“Do that. If my analysis is correct, your route should take you to a position behind drone loaders. Hold there until further orders.”
“We’re on it.”
Ham turned to his squad. “Forward, with care.”
Po and Myra closed ranks, abreast of Ryllen, as they moved in.
I’m coming, Shin. Fifty meters, and you’re done.
He was kidding himself. No chance he’d break ranks with everything else on the line. He owed too much – to Ham, to Kara.
They came in low, slithering between the tropical brush. When the groves of spindle palms cleared, the full breadth of the moment consumed Ryllen, who stared at something out of a fantasy.
Spotlights beamed upon a spherical vehicle parked at the center of the landing port. No, not parked. Hovering, perhaps inches off the ground. It defied logic, maybe even physics. Was this a ship?
The sphere was two stories high, its surface textured in what appeared to be a uniform geometry, although Ryllen wasn’t close enough to be sure. These features paled next to two wide bands which crisscrossed at the sphere’s equator. The bands glistened, reflecting all the details nearby – including the people huddled on the port.
He turned to Ham, who fell to his knees.
“What is that thing?” Ham didn’t answer. “It can’t be a ship. Where’s the propulsion?”
“It doesn’t need propulsion,” Ham mumbled. “This is impossible.”
“What do you mean?”
Ham tapped his mic. “Hold and take cover. I have to reassess.”
The Simmering Seas Page 22