The Simmering Seas

by Frank Kennedy

  “Fast as you can,” she told Shia.

  The bridesmaid had no idea what she was doing, but it excited her.

  She squealed. “Oh, for all the rings! I’m such a bad little coit.”

  And according to their mutual friends, a lousy driver.

  “Set the nav to take over,” Kara said. “Plot a course for Bongo Seaside. Once we’re on the UpWay, maximum permissible speed.”

  “Sure you don’t want to test it? I usually try for ten percent over.”

  “No. Stay within protocols. Can’t afford trouble with a Forsythe.”

  She did as told. Once she let the AI take full control, Shia swiveled.

  “This is so exciting, Kara. What do you want to play first at Bongo?”

  “Dunno. What do you recommend?”

  “I’ve never done it myself, but I hear similswords are all the rage. A bit bloody, but fun.”

  Kara offered a sure-whatever shrug, but she dared not tell Shia the truth. Her bridesmaid was not going to like the next bit. For that matter, she probably wasn’t going to like Kara much at all after today.

  42

  K ARA HAD NO DOUBT THEY WERE BEING pursued, but to what degree? They wouldn’t be overtaken and forced off the UpWay – too public. Were the guards hanging back, locked onto the sedan’s position? The most likely scenario involved a subtle chase followed by a discreet approach on foot shortly after parking. Zozo was notorious for its limited parking options, the narrow stone streets more suited for rifters and pedestrians. Multi-deck lodges ringed its perimeter, but they were too far from Kara’s destination. She needed another tactic, one Shia might be gullible enough to buy into.

  “I hear the best way to appreciate Bongo is to buy a premier multi-pass,” Kara said. “Full access to the fight zones and casinos. But they say the lines are long and entries are limited per hour.”

  “Are they? I always had a gentleman buy for me.”

  The sedan left the UpWay and veered through the heart of Pinchon, nearing Zozo and the coastline.

  “I have an idea. Why don’t you sweep into a temp gate at the plaza entrance, and I’ll join the line? You can find a suitable spot at a parking lodge and meet me. I should have the pass by then. My name should push me through a little sooner.”

  “Well, I suppose. I thought you didn’t want people to …”

  “Know who I am? I’m not worried, Shia.”

  “I suppose that can work. A little way to walk but … you’ll notify me when you have the passes? Where to meet you?”

  “I promise.”

  The lie worked. Kara felt no qualms about the betrayal. If anything, distance protected Shia. She remembered Chi-Qua’s warning: “I don’t know how they’ll react.” Neither did Kara.

  Bongo was a maze of interconnecting structures, most more than a century old but refashioned for the latest technology and glitz. Even at midday, the electric music, the shouts of food vendors, and the clouds of poltash created a magnetic stew. Few of the displays along the central promenade or the live entertainment within the fighting halls were child friendly. Beneath the surface, in the lowest chambers possible this close to the sea, the island’s only legal casinos never closed. Kara had been here before, despite what she told Shia. It was both exhilarating and dangerous. Sanitation protocols were rarely observed. This place did not cater to the Haansu elite. It drew its profits primarily from those who spent most of their lives at sea and found hardscrabble districts such as Zozo and Umkau to their liking. Kara despised Bongo, but it served a necessary purpose.

  The sedan’s nav locked onto the binding field for Bongo’s temp parking outside the central plaza. Vehicles dropped in steady formation, allowed no more than two minutes in their designated slot before being ticketed then ejected. Monitors roamed the slots, demanding the traffic maintain a steady flow.

  Kara jumped out of the sedan, offering no more than a wave.

  She bobbed and weaved through the madding crowds, determined to disappear before any pursuer swept into a temp slot. She slipped by the ticketing windows, raced down a spiral stone stairway, and arrived on the narrow boardwalk. Like the rest of Zozo, the walk was built atop a massive seawall, which was pounded by choppy waves. Whitecaps stretched toward the horizon. The breeze was strong but manageable. It didn’t appear to bother the crowds who ate luncheon on the seaside pews or fed the gulls who competed for walking room with Hokkis and left ample droppings.

  Kara lacked personal tech, but she memorized the address. It was a shot in the dark, likely doomed to fail, but a chance worth taking. She saw no mention of Ham Cortez on the IntraNex and no report of anything untoward happening on Mangum Island. Still, if the mission produced trouble – she assumed it had – he might slink back to Pinchon with great care, drawing no attention. Return to his flat? Perhaps. If not, surely someone nearby would have seen him. He was, after all, an outlier among Zozo residents. He was careful, a Special Services veteran capable of slinking about in the shadows.

  Finding his flat was simple; he made no attempt to hide his identity on the property rolls. Transparency reduced suspicion. Yet Kara figured it couldn’t have been easy in the early years, after the Chancellors fell and the Ark Carriers departed. Resentment, outright hostility, and a newfound xenophobia toward off-worlders. The more she thought of it, the greater she admired the man’s courage. Then again, living under the constant threat of a flash peg in the back seemed a fair punishment for the horrors he must have committed in the Chancellory’s name.

  A criminal. Just like Syung-Low.

  She reached his three-story walkup in ten minutes. It didn’t seem like much for a man who was once so exalted.

  Kara kept her distance for a bit, watching for any movement on approach or up the stairwell. If anyone else was surveilling the flat, they were hidden in nearby buildings because no one sat quietly on a bench or lingered on a street corner. More important, no one seemed to care about the daughter of Haansu who wore a sundress valued at more than many of these people made in a week.

  She rubbed her hand against a waist-level pocket and felt reassured. If this was a trap, she wasn’t going down with ease.

  “You can do this,” she mumbled. “You have to.”

  She sauntered up the stairwell with the casual demeanor of a longtime resident, her eyes rarely breaking from the path. The briefest of glances detected no curiosity from the passers-by below. This was too easy. Every stroke of logic told her so. Yet she pressed on.

  She knocked twice. Nothing. A moment later, three knocks.

  “He’s not here,” she whispered. “Leave. Damn it, leave.”

  Instead, she turned the knob. Even if he wasn’t here, maybe she’d find a clue inside. Maybe …

  The door opened.

  Kara reached inside her waist pocket and felt the contours of a snub-nosed laser pistol. She came close to using it once before, when a Green Sun agent invaded her room at Mal’s Drop. But that event, as it turned out, was scripted. No one baited her into this madness.

  The lights were off. The flat smelled sterile, as if the floors and counters were recently bleached.

  She grabbed the pistol and released the safety. Apparently, it was easy to use. Point and shoot, she heard. No kickback. Perfect weapon against short-range targets, but the cartridge dispensed only five laser bursts. She hid it well after returning from the night at Mal’s Drop.

  The flat seemed ordinary. The furniture was humble, the sparse walls decorated in traditional Hokki iconography. She saw no evidence of Chancellor ostentation. She veered into a combination kitchenette and living room, perhaps twelve by twelve. Unadorned, but neatly kept. Dusted, swept, polished.

  That’s when she heard most unlikely sounds. Chirping. Singing.

  They came from the back bedroom. The door was open, but she hesitated to enter the threshold. She knew the sounds now, heard tiny feet scratching inside cages. Kara didn’t know much about Ham, but she never imagined him for a bird person.

  “Hello?” />
  Silence. Take a deep breath. You can do this. They’re birds.

  She swung around the frame and aimed her weapon upon entry.

  The bedroom was a disaster. Though many birds seemed happy enough in their tall cages, everything else demonstrated chaos. Bedcovers on the floor, a dresser on its side, the drawers open, and clothes flung about in all manner of distress. A bowl lay upside down in a rocking chair, remnants of bread and yellow sauce in the seat.

  Get out, she told herself. You can’t stay here. You …

  Too late.

  She never heard the feet come from behind, but the barrel pressing into her back was easy to make out. The warm breath against the nape of her neck told Kara the gravity of her mistake.

  “Drop the snub nose.”

  The voice was feminine, young.

  Familiar.

  Kara complied and was promptly swung about with force. Her terror met with relief.

  “Mei?”

  The woman she met two days ago on the Queen Mab at Baangarden and deemed by Ham to be “the angriest woman you’ll ever meet,” did not lower her weapon. Her eyes telegraphed rage.

  “For all the rings, you better have a good explanation, Kara Syung, or you’re a dead woman.”

  “Wait. What? Mei, I’m here looking for Ham. I was afraid for him. For all of you. I need answers. Where is he?”

  “Looking for him, are you? Were you here last night, too? We got the reports. Three men and a woman in sedans. Not locals. Not KumTaan. Did you screw us, you coit?”

  Her heart sprinted. “Mei, I don’t even remember last night. I was drugged at High Cannon … by my family … and brought back home. I was a prisoner. I escaped to find Ham. Where is he?”

  Mei lowered her weapon, her eyes altering to mild skepticism.

  “Your family did what? Cud. We never knew. You were silent, so we thought your end went well.”

  “No. My family is at the center of this madness. I’m sure there are people scouring Zozo for me. Mei, what happened last night? What happened in here? I heard the news about Lan Chua, but nothing else.”

  Mei’s shoulders sagged, the pistol limp at her side.

  “I don’t know where to begin. It’s impossible. All of it. But cud, if I wasn’t there. Look, it’ll take too much time. I came for some of Ham’s things. His, uh, toys from Special Services. He’s too recognizable around here to come himself. He’s in a safehouse for now, but we think the KumTaan … or worse … might be coming before long. We need to go. Find a safer place to talk.”

  “What happens if we walk out that door and don’t make it to the safe place? Mei, give me something I can work with.”

  She pocketed the snub nose and followed Mei into the kitchenette. Mei reached behind the sofa and retrieved a black case.

  “His toys. Listen, Kara, this thing … it’s bigger than we ever imagined. Beyond this world, for sure. We saw things on Mangum that can’t be explained. And they were nothing compared to what happened after. RJ … cudfrucking RJ. The little asshole’s gone.”

  “What do you mean? I thought he was …”

  “Yeah. Immortal. He’s gone, as in, I don’t think he’s on Hokkaido. Some of my squad think he’s dead. The cube obliterated him. No. He’s just gone, but I got no idea where.”

  “What cube?”

  “No. Not here. Take forever to explain, and even then, I wouldn’t believe half the shit coming off my lips. We need to go.”

  Mei started toward the front room, but Kara stopped.

  “That bedroom back there … those were women’s clothes I saw. I thought Ham lived alone.”

  “Yeah. Well. Another cudfrucking story I don’t believe. But it doesn’t matter now. We need to be somewhere else.”

  Mei tolerated no more delays. She grabbed Kara by the arm and led her out the door. They got as far as the top of the landing.

  Dae Syung was waiting ten steps below. He appeared unarmed. The same could not be said for the five guards at the base of the stairs.

  44

  I F YOU RAISE YOUR PISTOL,” Kara’s brother said, “they’ll cut you down. That goes for you both. Please. I don’t want violence. I’ll say my peace. It won’t take long.”

  Dae was a mess. The last time Kara saw him, right before she felt a pinch in the back of her neck, he sat next to their parents at High Cannon Collective. He’d been crying. Now, it appeared he hadn’t slept, bathed, or changed since. Her mother said he and Father left early to “sort out” an incident. The fog was clearing.

  “Don’t do it,” Kara told Mei, who raised her weapon. “He’s right. They’ll kill you. These men are professionals.”

  Mei was incredulous. “You know this cudfrucker?”

  “He’s my brother. Please, put it down.”

  Mei complied, but Kara saw the rage in her bared teeth and jaw of steel. She’d fire at the next provocation.

  “Keep your cool,” she whispered under her breath. “Dae is not a violent man, but at the moment, I don’t know his mind.”

  “Why, Kara?” Dae asked, his hands open-faced. “Why did you have to be so damn curious? If you’d listened to me the other night, we wouldn’t be here now. I …”

  “Stop, Brother. Just stop. I don’t know what you plan to accomplish here, but I promise: I’m not crawling into your sedan.”

  “You have to come. You should consider yourself lucky it was me they called when you escaped. If Honorable Father wasn’t still on Mang … if it was Father they called, she’d already be dead. And you? He’d never forgive. Please, Kara. We have to talk. Everything is …”

  His eyes wandered, as if he were uncertain of what to say next.

  “We’re standing on the brink. One more mistake, it all comes down. Please, Kara. I don’t want them to hurt you … or this woman.”

  “Fine, Dae. Here are my terms. We go back inside. You speak your peace. You answer my questions. But first,” she said, pointing to the street, “you send those assholes away.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure, you can. You’re the heir to Syung-Low. They leave Zozo with both sedans. If I trust you when this is over, I’ll call a hopper.”

  “But Father will …”

  “Father isn’t here. Act like your own man, Brother. For once. Show some spine.”

  Passersby at street level gazed upon the bizarre tableau, made more suspicious by Dae’s indecision. Kara shifted her glare between her brother, the five guards, and Mei’s trigger hand. After what seemed like minutes but were likely seconds, Dae acceded to her demand.

  “Yes, go,” he told the hesitant guards. “I’ll be fine. When you return to the estate, say nothing of this. Report to your posts.”

  They argued, but they had no choice. Insubordination demanded immediate termination.

  Kara turned to Mei. “I know Ham’s waiting for you, but Dae’s been to Mangum. You might want to hang about for this.”

  “Yeah. Me and my little sister.” She held the weapon chest high. “He’s your brother, but I don’t trust the bastard.”

  “And you think I do?”

  The women stepped wide on the landing to clear a path. Dae entered Ham’s flat, Mei close behind, laser pistol aimed.

  “Ahead,” Mei ordered. “Take a right.” They entered the combo kitchenette/living room. “Lift your arms. Make a wrong move, and I’ll ace your sorry ass.” She set her case aside and patted him down until satisfied he wasn’t armed. “Sit.” She pointed to the sofa.

  Kara pulled up a chair, while Mei blocked Dae Syung’s only method of escape, the pistol at her side. His eyes spelled out how incredulous he was of this sudden turn.

  “I feel like I’m the one who’s been taken prisoner,” he told Kara. “But you’re the one responsible for everything coming undone. And this one,” he pointed to Mei, “has no business here. Who is she?”

  Mei smirked. “The coit with the Mark 7 Boring pistol.”

  “Her name isn’t important, Brother, but she’s part of this.
She was there. Mangum Island. So were you and our most honorable parents. Yes?”

  “It isn’t what you think, Kara. If we go too far down this road, there won’t be a way back. Not for me. Not you. Not her. Kara, you still have a chance to recover from this. If I return you home before Father arrives, I can offer a cover story. Whitewash everything.”

  “And then?”

  “You keep your mouth shut until you walk down the aisle and marry Ya-Li Taron. It won’t solve all the problems you’ve created, but it gives us a fighting chance to repair the damage.”

  Kara leaned forward and massaged her temples.

  “For all the damn rings, I’d love a day where my family spoke the unvarnished truth. I’d settle for an hour where I don’t feel like I’m being dragged around on a string. Why, Brother? Why must I marry Ya-Li? And what damage have I done? Is truth possible? Father is not here. Mother is probably lounging in her parlor. Truth, Dae.”

  He fidgeted. Sweaty palms formed a tight fist. She sensed it: Dae was close. He wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t hide the terror.

  “Meet me halfway, Sister. Who is this woman?”

  Kara pivoted to Mei, who shrugged. Kara took a chance, assuming he and Father probably put together the pieces already, and why some of Kara’s captors wanted her dead.

  “She was part of the team that went to High Cannon last night. I was their advance scout. I planted devices to scramble perimeter security. High Cannon is connected somehow to an interplanetary …” She hated the word but used it anyway: “Conspiracy. So are you, Father, Mother, and many of the elite families, including the Tarons. A few days ago, you and Father were suddenly called away to communion with Ja Yuan. I believe he’s at the center of it, too. It’s been building for years. I think it started not long after the Chancellory fell, and now we’re on the verge of something dramatic. Maybe unspeakable. But Dae, you have to talk. This thing has already cost us too much. Lang and I were never the best of friends, but I know he loved me, and I miss him every day. Everything I’ve done is because of him. And now, I get the serious feeling it was all for naught. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me the truth. At last, Dae. The truth.”