The Simmering Seas

by Frank Kennedy

  Li-Ann set down her empty teacup and saucer.

  “I’ve had enough of you. Your duties at Nantou are ended. You will marry Ya-Li. You will follow protocol. And you are barred from leaving the estate. Security has been told to restrain you should you attempt an escape.” She pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

  Kara retreated. It was better than being physically hauled out by a guard. Only when she calmed down did Kara sort through the evidence her mother divulged. She wandered out onto the north veranda. She wasn’t ten feet out the door before spotting a pair of guards stationed at a discreet distance.

  The Kye-Do rings appeared low above the western horizon.

  “Three days,” she mumbled. “They’ve lost their minds. They …”

  Kara felt dizzy. She fell into the closest chair. Her heart raced.

  “No. They wouldn’t.”

  It was there all along. The only possibility. Sheer madness.

  Lang’s message resonated: “They’re going to burn it all.”

  Kara remembered the night of her sixteenth birthday. She was gazing at the sky when the Ark Carrier Henrik Nilsson lit up like a bright star then vanished. So, too, went a pair of other Carriers. Miles-long city-ships, taken out by the weapons of terrorists.

  Singularities.

  No evidence left behind.

  “They’re insane,” she said. “It won’t work. They’ll burn it all.”

  35

  H AMILTON CORTEZ NEVER SURRENDERED to the ravages of guilt, but he struggled to ward it off three hours after escaping Mangum Island. Why did he allow RJ to take the rifter? The kid’s reasoning made no sense. It was rash, complicated the escape, and served no apparent purpose. Yet Ryllen was determined, assured Ham he’d be OK – which seemed like a reasonable bet, coming from an immortal. But the kid was gone, his rifter lost at sea. His body – assuming it wasn’t annihilated – was likely dragged along by some of the strongest currents in the region.

  The tone among the Queen Mab’s crew suggested their search was a lost cause. Mei Durin and the other Green Sun agents saw the flash three kilometers offshore when the rifter exploded. They watched from the beach before Ham collected them in the sedan.

  “Like a match going out,” one said. “Tiny sparks fell into the ocean.”

  Ham didn’t allow himself to believe it. The kid was too resourceful, finding new and clever ways to dig himself out of death.

  “If he drowned,” Lan said, pulling Ham aside after the crew returned to the sub, “how does he regenerate? His lungs will be full of water. I’m sorry, Hamilton. That’s too much, even for an immortal.”

  The image sickened Ham: RJ lying at the bottom of the ocean, returning to life, only to repeat the most horrific form of death. How long before his body gave in to the inevitable? Would it continue in an endless loop?

  “We need more time,” Ham insisted at the three-hour mark. “It’s possible he wasn’t pulled into the Orpheus Trench. As long as he remains in relatively shallow depths, we have a chance.”

  Lan, Mei, and the other agents wanted to call it quits and retreat to Pinchon more than an hour earlier. The rifter’s tiny debris field did not include a body, and the initial search along the notoriously powerful current proved fruitless. Options were limited: Circle back, detail the same zones, or press forward.

  Looking for a single human body with no beacon to track? Increasing the risk of being discovered by whatever forces they encountered on the island?

  “His body is likely in pieces,” Lan told Ham. “You are putting us all at unnecessary risk, and I am the captain of this boat.”

  “I see. And where’s your manifest? Your port clearance? Lan, we are off-book, and I’m not sure Baangarden will be safe on return. Sho Parke knew I was a Chancellor though he couldn’t see my face. That narrows the field. Their contacts will cast a wide net.”

  “So, you suggest we continue a search with improbable odds for success and then what? Find refuge on another island until we determine Pinchon is safe?”

  “We might have no choice.” He thought of Mi Cha, alone with her birds, unaware of the rotating security guards Ham stationed at the base of their walkup. Ever since he took her into hiding, Ham was never gone for more than two days. “This boat can remain out of port for ten days. It’s stocked with emergency rations. I will not leave RJ behind.”

  He faced the Green Sun agents, four of whom manned the control boards after Lan provided a crash course in using old-school submarine tech. Ham saw the resignation in their eyes – even Mei, who knew Ryllen the longest.

  “This is not just about RJ’s life,” Ham told them. “He may be the only one with answers about what happened at High Cannon. He entered the ship. He carried an artifact, a component perhaps, when he walked out. Those people attacked him for it. I never saw the object, but he possessed it when he hacked the rifter.”

  “How do you know?” Mei asked.

  “Something in his pocket glowed. I glimpsed it for a second. In that instant, RJ chose an irrational course. I believe there’s a reason.”

  “Or maybe the little asshole took one chance too many, Ham.”

  Jai and Joa, the fraternal twins who were masters of the collider pistol, nodded in unison from their workstations. Po and Myra, who escorted Ham and Ryllen across the island, bowed their heads as if accepting defeat. None of them knew Ryllen like Ham; they’d soon forget him after returning to their lives in Pinchon. Of course, they might not have lives if he kept them at sea much longer.

  “One hour,” he said. “If we find no sign of RJ in the next hour, we’ll abort and make for Pinchon. We’ll communicate with Lan’s people and determine if we’ve been compromised. But I need your eyes peeled to the boards in the meantime. Agreed?”

  They gave unanimous consent. Ham trusted them. They knew how to use the sub’s external cams and search lights as well as the sonar scanners. No anomaly would escape their eyes.

  Ham called Mei forward and huddled with Lan.

  “Continue on this heading,” he told Lan, as if assuming the captain’s role. “I’ll trust that the current took him.”

  The odds were worse than piss poor. Ham knew how this would end. What he did not understand, however, was what they left behind on Mangum Island. The desperate search for RJ dominated all dialogue after they jumped from the sedan onto the surfaced Queen Mab.

  “We need to talk about HCC,” Ham said. “The sphere. The attack. You’ve seen the images, Lan. Your thoughts?”

  Lan shrugged. “I specialize in the sea, above and below. You might be surprised to know I’ve never flown higher than a cloud bank. But I know enough about propulsion systems. I don’t see how that sphere has practical worth inside a planet’s gravity well or beyond.”

  Ham nodded. “That’s why the Chancellors never built it. They saw it as a single-use vehicle. Emerge from a theoretical jump point, unleash its weapons array, and activate another jump to return home. The quantum engineering exceeded their grasp.”

  “Yet there she is. Or rather, was. Who’s behind it, Ham?”

  “There are few things I do not know with certainty. This one confounds me. The Chancellor factions who survived the Earth war lacked the resources – let alone the know-how – to produce tech so far to the edge. Nor is this how one attempts a military re-conquest. The Chancellors built an army of millions to use as a blunt hammer. They would not think so small. Yet, I concede the possibilities are limited. Only the Chancellors and the Aeternans had access to this design and jumpgate technology.”

  “Then the answer is clear,” Lan said. “It has to be the immortals.”

  “If it is, why did they attack and destroy their own vessel?”

  He caught Lan and Mei with an effective broadside.

  “What?” Mei sneered. “How do you know it was them?”

  Ham ignited a plate and cast his hand-comm into the resulting holoscreen. The video was shaky, but the attacking force was easy to make out.

  “Apologies. I
was on the run, as were we all.” He stopped the footage and pointed to key details. “I’ve never seen Aeternan fighters in full gear, but I’ve heard reports. Some descriptions escaped after the so-called Last Day’s War, when the immortals somehow defeated ten thousand soldiers of the Guard on Aeterna. Annihilated them. No identifiable bodies.

  “Impenetrable black body armor, superior to the Guard. Helmets projecting an insectoid appearance. But their ships? Conventional. See here? Two Scramjets, likely captured from the Guard. Over the years, their representatives have made countless visits to the colonies. Ginning up trade pacts, building diplomatic ties, sharing technology – they provided our bicomms.” He held up his left wrist. “They’ve always used standard commercial and Scram-class ships. And I know of not one attack by their forces. Until now. Why?”

  “I’m out of my league,” Lan said, “but I’d say they’re scared witless about that sphere, or whatever it represents.”

  “If the Aeternans are frightened, we should be also. Those Scramjets arrived through Slope, their mobile wormhole tech.” He pivoted to Mei. “That effect we saw and heard – sunlight and thunder – it’s the wormhole aperture. It’s the tech they used to catch a fleet of Ark Carriers sleeping. They sent three dozen city-ships into oblivion with singularity weapons. They brought down an empire this way, and now they see a new threat.”

  “To tell the truth,” Mei said, “these immortals seem like a batch of dangerous cudfruckers, too.”

  “They have sufficient blood on their hands. As do we all. Yes? Allow history to judge them. But at least over the past eight years, they’ve tended to play nice. Tell me, Mei, what did you think of the people we surrounded on the port?”

  Her expression changed to outright disdain.

  “Empty suits.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They responded when we told them to drop to their knees, but it was like they were playing along. They didn’t seem to give a shit. The one I executed? No reaction from the others. One was probably his own sister. I’ve aced many an immo, and the ones I don’t kill first, they beg and scream. They cry. But these assholes? Nothing.”

  “Agreed. Their eyes were vacant. Their answers incoherent. Sho Parke claimed the man with the large hole in his head wasn’t actually dead. ‘He was never here.’ The combination of ethnics also worries me. Dark quadrant, Bolivar, and Hokkaido. These worlds have no trade or diplomatic history. What brought them together for this … endeavor?”

  Lan scratched his head. His hair was thinning on top.

  “Is it possible the sphere wasn’t built by Aeternans or Chancellors?”

  “You’re suggesting colonials. The Chancellory spent three thousand years making sure the indigos were always a hundred steps behind us technologically. No. Indigos would not have the acumen to analyze and apply the quantum algorithms.”

  Lan grunted. “Thank you for the marvelous vote of confidence, Mr. Chancellor.”

  “Make no mistake, Lan. Every significant advance Hokkis made during the Collectorate was vetted by the Admiralty. Unacceptable forward movement was repelled. Quietly, for the most part. Still, Hokkis did very well compared to most. They can see …”

  Ham stopped when Mei’s attention diverted. She craned her neck toward the agents manning the control boards. He swung around. The twins were in heated discussion – Joa at Jai’s workstation.

  “Have you found something?” Ham said.

  They appeared hesitant to speak, but Joa lurched forward.

  “We’re thinking it’s a bug in the tech. Says there’s something out there, but there’s nothing. If you get my meaning.”

  “I don’t.” Ham approached the twins, followed by Mei and Lan. “Step aside. Let’s take a …”

  At first glance, what Ham saw on the monitor did have the earmarks of a glitch. The workstation searched for evidence of mass, sound waves, and artificial energy. The northeast corner of the deep blue screen radiated in spasms of red, like a rose bud opening and closing.

  “See?” Joa said, pointing to the graphic readouts on the accompanying screen. “There’s nothing. Just empty ocean. Not even a school of piper fish.”

  “Thoughts?” Ham asked Lan, who was more familiar with the century-old equipment.

  “If this was a routine training run out of Baangarden, I’d put in a workorder. But after tonight, maybe it’s worth a try.”

  Lan was right. What did they have to lose?

  “Change our heading five degrees north.”

  They needed only a few minutes to realize this was not a glitch. As the Queen Mab altered course, the rose bud repositioned to fall in direct line with the sub. This thing with no mass, no energy, and no sound was stationary, its depth impossible to determine.

  Lan ordered the boat’s searchlights and external cams to train on the dark sea dead ahead.

  “This might be a well-conceived trap,” Lan whispered.

  “If it is, we’ve seen our last sunrise.”

  At this point, turning the boat around made little sense. Ham doubted they’d ever outrun suboceanic tech created by the sphere-builders. But he wasn’t convinced. A flickering hope remained.

  “Less than a hundred meters,” Joa said. “Eighty meters. Seventy. Sixty. Fifty.”

  “Lan, bring her to a full stop.”

  The Queen Mab stalled thirty meters from the outer edge of the rose bud, which flashed as if it were a buoy amid the shipping lanes.

  The sub’s searchlights cast piercing rays fifty meters through the dim water, but they fell upon nothing. Yet the rose intensified its pulse and repeated its pattern with lightning pace.

  “What are we doing wrong?” Ham asked, his hope again fading.

  “Nothing,” Lan said. “All systems appear nominal.”

  “There!”

  Mei saw it first. She pointed to a monitor across the aisle. They turned en masse.

  It was tiny at first, like the heartbeat of an unborn child. No particular shape, but a miniscule pink glow. It grew closer, as if pushing on its own power toward the sub. And as it closed, it brightened.

  A fiery pink halo blossomed amid the lighted field.

  Then, it took a form.

  Ham thought he’d seen it all in Special Services. Yet this night continued to layer in a whole host of surprises.

  “How can this be?”

  A cube no bigger than an open fist lit up the sea, casting its light from the left hand of an immortal teenager, whose braids floated like sea snakes about his head.

  Ryllen Jee hung limp, as if in suspended animation. Ham was reminded of a fetus tied to an umbilical. Most of Ryllen’s clothes were gone; the remains showed evidence of burned edges. A large hunk of metal impaled through his gut.

  His eyes were those of a specter, both washed out as if replaced by alabaster stones. Tiny fish swirled around him.

  No one spoke.

  Ham wanted him back. For the first time since Mi Cha, he cared about another’s fate. Yet this? Was it too late, even for an immortal?

  He pivoted to Lan. “We have two viable utility pods. Yes?” Lan nodded. “Good. We’ll need both. One for RJ. One for that.”

  “I’m all for grabbing RJ,” Lan said, “but the other one? Ham, that cube – whatever it is – came to us. Against the current. We bring it inside, we might save RJ but kill all the mortals.”

  Ham dropped a hand upon his occasional friend’s shoulder.

  “We’re dealing with the impossible. Half measures will not do.”

  Ham studied the Green Sun agents, who were shocked into silence. Yet he did catch the briefest nod from Mei, who he expected wanted RJ back more than she’d ever admit.

  “Why not?” Lan said. “Time to prepare the pods.”

  36

  T HEY LAID A SORRY HUSK of a human onto a bed in the medical bay. Ryllen’s corpse rested on its side to account for the four-inch hunk of metal pushing out through his stomach. His eyes were milky, as if an old man ravaged by cataracts. The hair
retained its braids – Mei said they looked recently knotted – but lost its golden luster, with all color bleached away. The last of his tattered clothes removed, Ryllen seemed a miserable creation. His muscles withered. Only the green sun with red rays tattooed across his chest reminded anyone who he was once.

  “What now?” Mei asked after an hourlong effort to capture the body and the cube was completed.

  “We pull it out,” Ham said with matter-of-fact precision.

  “What do you mean? A good tug? We’ll yank out his innards too.”

  “I think not. We’ll make it quick. Better now than after he regenerates. No pain at this point.”

  “You’re sure he’ll come back?”

  “No. I don’t have a playbook for immortality. RJ’s previous deaths were short because he had the capacity to breathe again. But he spent the past four hours in the ocean. Either the saltwater preserved him or consumed him.”

  Jai Zaan turned to his twin brother Joa and grumbled.

  “Saltwater, my tight ass. It was that cube working its magic.”

  “Or draining the last of his blood,” Joa said.

  Ham didn’t argue. The twins knew as much as he.

  Lan, who secured the cube inside a hermetically sealed strongbox, joined the fray.

  “We’ve turned about. The Queen Mab is making her way for Pinchon. We won’t arrive until two hours after the sun. I’ll surface over the Quessi Shoals and contact my people. They’ll look out for our safety. Any prognosis for this one?”

  “No idea.” Ham scanned the room of hesitant terrorists. “Who’s going to help me pull?”

  Mei volunteered. He turned to the twins.

  “I need you to brace him. Joa, get a firm handle about his legs. Hug them tight. Jai, wrap through and under his armpits. Pull them away. Hold tight. Remember, he’s quite dead. He won’t mind. If you hear something snap, his body will repair it. I hope.”

  This savage procedure would have caused a living patient to bleed out in seconds. Viscous fluids but little blood emerged as Ham and Mei groped and yanked until the last of the metal strip exited Ryllen’s abdomen.