The Simmering Seas

by Frank Kennedy

  Chi-Qua finished brushing Kara’s hair and reached for a box with a crown of petite white flowers.

  “We have caused trouble, you and I,” the aide said. “Been doing it for years. If keeping me at Syung-Low protects you and gives my family a second chance, then it’s an acceptable compromise. I suppose we’ll know more when the reception ends.”

  Chi-Qua delicately positioned the crown above Kara, who shook her head.

  “Put it back. There’s still an hour until the ceremony. If I shake loose even one petal, Mother will be furious.”

  Her aide complied. “Why worry about her now? In a few hours, she’ll be effectively out of your life.”

  Kara chuckled. “Li-Ann Syung? Are you joking? She’ll always have one eye on me. I know too much.”

  “That’s the problem, Kara. Once you’re married, you need to convince them you’re not a threat. Do your duties. Stay alive.”

  “Good advice, Chi, but I’m not sure I can heed it. I’ve learned so much more. And what I’ve seen is …”

  No. Not now. She wasn’t about to risk it. The Tarons might be listening to every word. Then there was Chi-Qua. Did the Syungs allow her another day with Kara before parting ways, or did they expect Chi-Qua to report what she learned – again?

  “I don’t want it to end today,” she told her best friend. “We’ve been so right for each other as long as I can remember. But if today is the last, I want you to know something. I don’t regret what I did after your family fell. I know you felt shame and resentment when you had to wear the red and white. But I needed you, Chi. You were the only one I trusted.”

  They rarely reflected on those tense early months following refinery.

  “Resentment?” Chi-Qua glanced at the clock embedded in the corner of the vanity. “Hate is a better word. I hated being a tool to relieve your guilt. I hated how you took me away from Father and Mother. But I couldn’t see the big picture. What does ten years mean when you’re sixteen? If you hadn’t intervened, my parents would grow old and die in shame. Now, they have a chance. It won’t be like before, but seeing them with their heads raised high, smiling again? The years have been worth it, Kara. Now, I do believe it’s about time for Sangja. I should check with staff and see if they’re ready.”

  Kara moaned. “Yes. Of course. The boxes.”

  “Be happy. It’s the only time all day you’ll have to yourself.”

  Chi-Qua started out, but the door opened before she reached it.

  “Good morning, Honored Mr. Syung,” the aide said.

  Dae let her pass then filled the doorway. He cut a dazzling figure in his all-white tuxedo with Syung-red handkerchief and beret. He seemed taller somehow and did not bear resemblance to a young woman’s executioner. He asked permission to enter.

  “I’d say no,” Kara replied, “but I’m sure that’s the wrong answer.”

  Dae appeared amused as he closed the door behind him. He tapped a pipe and pulled a long drag of poltash.

  “You’ll be a smashing bride, Sister. I always knew you would.”

  “Right. But I’ll be even better as a Taron, out of your hair.”

  “I won’t lie. It will be a relief.”

  He moved toward the room’s picture window. Kara followed.

  “You’ll have Honorable Father and Mother all to yourself.”

  “I wouldn’t rate that at the top, but there are worse fates.”

  “Yes, there are. Like being shot three times at point blank range.”

  He shaded his eyes and drew the curtains.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I have not slept well the past two nights. I never did anything like that before.”

  “Really? You seemed very composed standing over her corpse.”

  “I did what was necessary, Kara. Half measures aren’t good enough anymore.”

  “Is she still there, Dae? Waiting for someone to find her?”

  He pulled on the pipe. “No. The matter was handled. The flat was sterilized. No evidence we were there.”

  “Except for the people on the street who saw your guards and the three of us on the stairs. If the right Hokkis ask enough questions, all the cleansing in the world won’t make a difference.”

  “I disagree. The families effectively control the KumTaan, and no one else will investigate. Green Sun won’t be a threat after we shred their network. The matter has disappeared.”

  “Why are you here, Dae? To make sure I keep my mouth shut?”

  He tapped off the pipe and put it away.

  “If that was my concern, I would have killed you when I had the chance. No, Sister. I’m here because I need you to understand.”

  “About what?”

  “Why I made the right choice, and why we must do our duty.”

  “So, it’s to be a lecture?”

  “Lectures are your brand, Kara. Especially the sanctimonious variety. I’ll try to be direct. Very simply, Kara, I love being a man of privilege. I am soft. Yes, I know this. I’ve never had to work hard for anything. This is my luxury as first-born. I’ve seen what public shame does to a Hokki. We are a cruel people, Kara. We shun our former friends then we neither forgive nor forget. I never thought I would kill another Hokki to preserve my status, but I was left with no option. More to the point, I will not hesitate next time.

  “There is no coming back from the things people like us do, but we move forward surrounded by a firewall. We gamble that the wall will hold out the barbarians until the universe calls us home. Our lot is better than almost everyone else, which means we have the furthest to fall. I refuse to fall, Kara. You must do the same.”

  Kara heard it in his earnest tone: Dae was telling her the unvarnished truth as he saw it.

  “And that’s duty, is it? Stay inside the wall, obey one’s elders, and risk nothing.”

  “It’s not a hard play, Sister, but it’s the necessary one.”

  “And when does the fate of the Hokki people and this planet enter the picture?”

  “It already has, and for them, we must stay to our duties.”

  “I’ve heard this hypocritical nonsense before. ‘We protect our own family interests, and in return, we protect Hokkaido.’ You cannot seriously believe that hiding this insane plan to erase the rings is smart or to the benefit of the common Hokki.”

  “I can, and I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Kara, when the rings are gone, the last serious threat to the elite families will go with them.”

  “What?”

  “I will tell you so you understand the imperative for silence.”

  “Tell me what?”

  His sigh turned into an extended exhale.

  “Our parents told Lang and I the truth a few months before the Chancellors fell. At first, it was hard to digest. But they planned for us to have an enormous role at Nantou and beyond, so we agreed to live with it. Actually, it was easy to justify since the program by that time was eighty years old.”

  “What program?”

  “Our Great Grans first approached the fleet Admiralty with the proposal. They needed Chancellor tech to make it happen. As the story goes, the Admiralty had no problem with the program so long as they received an appropriate percentage of revenue.”

  Her stomach taut, Kara dreaded where this story was moving.

  “Revenue from what?”

  “Kohlna, of course. All our other products, too. Kara, the seamaster profit margins had plateaued for generations. Our wealth is derived solely from seafood, and ninety percent of our customers live on the continent. Our Great Grans and the heads of five other families agreed on a new strategy to increase our dominance. Create environmental change on the continent. Reduce agricultural capability. Downsize the volume of arable land.”

  She turned cold. “No. They didn’t.”

  “The Kye-Do rings have never poisoned this planet. Not directly. The program used Chancellor tech to siphon off tanks of muglin dust during acenomite mining operations. The dust is
harmless in space but toxic when combined with water and the right elements. It was released in the atmosphere, usually through covert missions flown above storm systems. After years of limited success, it was introduced into agricultural products at levels so low, it was almost undetectable. This allowed farmlands to be directly targeted.”

  “No, Dae. This can’t be possible.”

  “Actually, it’s predictable. Is it coincidence or luck that The Lagos has never suffered from acenomite poisoning? They say it’s because of the trade winds, but only fools and deniers believe that nonsense. Kara, the elite families of The Lagos have been poisoning the continent for almost a century. The program ended after the Chancellory fell and we lost access to their resources, but the damage was done. Almost everyone associated with the program has been eliminated, but the evidence remains. It’s literally in the soil, waiting for the right people to ask the right questions. When this becomes public knowledge, what do you think will happen when two billion people turn their rage to these islands?”

  It was worse than she ever conceived.

  “They’ll do to us what the Aeternans did to the Chancellors.”

  “Or worse. Kara, when the Ark Carriers left, we were terrified. We were sure the rival families would discover our secret. The reprisals, the refinery. I never thought we’d survive. Our parents did horrible things to keep us whole, but they were the necessary things. They’re doing the same now. This new alliance will give us the leverage we need to hold forth. When the rings are gone and the continent heals, people will say one plus one equals two, and the secret will be buried forever. We have to trust in the Inventor. Trust in this alliance. Take the ring. Be a faithful wife to Ya-Li. Do your duty, Sister.”

  He kissed her on the cheek and left without another word.

  She felt light-headed and crumpled into the closest chair.

  It was as if the truth was always tucked deep in her conscience and waited for someone to pry it loose. The evidence was there all along – Kara never dared to pull the pieces together.

  All those times when she was a girl hiding in her favorite bullabast tree, listening to her Honorable Father in the gazebo, negotiating with contractors from the continent. He spoke from a position of leverage, never acknowledging the dire nature of their crisis. He smiled, shared the finest wine, and insisted he would do his best for Nantou’s clients. And then, from the night when the Ark Carriers were destroyed, and panic took hold, an unbearable tension radiated through the household for weeks. She passed her brothers’ bedrooms on many occasions and saw their open wounds. Dae sobbed, but she never asked why.

  “It’s time,” Chi-Qua said from the doorway. “The boxes are ready.”

  “But I’m not, Chi, and I never will be.”

  46

  K ARA PUSHED THROUGH HER DISGUST and followed Chi-Qua’s lead. Her aide carried the box with Kara’s wedding crown as they ventured downstairs toward the room where the blue commemorative boxes of Sangja awaited her attention. Kara trailed close behind though lost in a fog. They reached a tiny room with a blue bow hanging over the doorway. Chi-Qua looked inside and nodded approval.

  “All clear,” she said. “I’ll stand guard. The script says you have thirty minutes, then we must join your bridesmaids.”

  “How many boxes?”

  “A Taron servant counted one hundred fifteen.”

  “So, four per minute? What’s the point?”

  “I’m sure some are more impressive than others. People are showing their love, Kara.”

  “No. They’re ingratiating themselves. All part of the long game.”

  “It’s tradition, and the clock is running. Just … throw open all the boxes and spend time with the ten or so you like most.”

  The tradition was silly; Kara tried to negotiate it away months ago. No one took her seriously.

  The blue boxes of Sangja dated back to pre-colonization. They were offerings to the bride as tokens of good fortune. They were neither elaborate nor expensive. Rather, the pieces carried symbolic value – sometimes objects from nature, often handcrafted. A rare flower handpicked from the giver’s estate. A woven icon representing faith and devotion. A lone feather, perfumed. Tollen berries, which were known to enhance fertility. Each gift, gently wrapped inside a sky-blue box with a white ribbon, included a card bearing the family’s household crest or colors. The occasional iconoclast might try to buck tradition by slipping in chocolates, jewels, or a gram jar of fish eggs. The bride had full discretion to reject those boxes on the grounds they lacked sincerity and humility.

  When Kara stood alone amid her boxes, she didn’t think of these matters, and she certainly didn’t care what anyone contributed. The givers belonged, in most cases, to criminal families like her own. How many knew their wealth derived from raping the continent of ninety percent of its arable land? How many couldn’t have cared less?

  Kara chuckled in disgust when she realized many of these people probably never saw their gift, having ordered staff to take care of it. The box fulfilled a checklist to these social-climbing cynics, or a lead-in to a future conversation with the bride.

  “Yes, I gifted you with the feathers of a red-crested sea swan,” the conversation might begin.

  “Oh. Of course. A lovely choice,” Kara might reply, having no memory at all of such a thing.

  “It was a special bird to our family,” the speaker might continue, beginning a long embellishment. “It came with regularity to our feeders along the shore. Soon thereafter, it settled in among us, as if it were an extension of our family. It flew into the laps of my children and cooed, as if singing to them. One day, we found it struggling and unable to fly. Its song was almost gone. But our children insisted on caring for it. For a time, we thought it might make a full recovery. But, as all things go in life, its day came at last. Our children were crestfallen, for the swan gave us such joy. They knew your wedding was approaching, as it was the talk of Pinchon. They wanted to gift you its most beautiful feathers that you too might feel as loved.”

  Kara heard these stories at other receptions, social obligations, and even in the midst of corporate negotiations with contractors. The principal theme bent toward, “I have always been your friend. Do for me as you would a friend.” While most of these stories were Kohlna feed, the gifters kept them close at heart to unleash at the first strategic opportunity.

  Now she was destined to be the recipient of their inane stories for years to come. They delivered their blue boxes; they expected her attention to be tantamount and her appreciation enduring.

  They wouldn’t be so sycophantic if they knew Syung-Low’s role in the fate of Hokkaido. Still, Kara followed tradition and removed the box lids, taking a few seconds to glower at each tribute.

  Today’s gifts seemed to have a frequent design theme connected to shells. Apparently, many went beachcombing before making their choice. But others relied on the tried-and-true. Some extended their artistic skills to blending the Syung-Low and Taron house colors into woven hearts. Another used a blend of waxen pebbles and a larger painted stone to illustrate the moon Huryo shining through the Kye-Do rings at the height of Ascension.

  In another context, Kara might have tried to distinguish the sincere gifts from the strategic. Yet she didn’t care enough to bother. Tradition only required her to view them and collect the cards; thank-you letters were not mandatory.

  Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty boxes. Seventy.

  The differences blurred, and her patience thinned.

  Until box seventy-five.

  She tossed back the lid, prepared to nod and move on. But when Kara unfolded the cloth covering, she gasped and jumped back.

  “What?”

  The silver laser pistol looked new, fresh off the assembly line. It sported a compact barrel and a deep hand grip. She did not recognize the model. It resembled nothing she saw at Mal’s Drop or worn on the guards at Syung-Low, and it was twice the size of the snub nose her brother used to kill Mei Durin.

 
A card lay beneath the grip. She grabbed it with a trembling hand.

  Keep me close. You will need me today.

  She read the message ten times. There was no signature. No crest. No house colors. No ….

  Kara flipped over the card and saw two letters, hand scribbled:

  N.L.

  She raced through the names of all those she met on the last stage of her journey. When nothing turned up among the crew organized by Ham, RJ, and Lan, she focused on Nantou. Who did she know with these initials? It had to be someone on the guest list; how else might this box have slipped through? That list was provided in a directory at the head of the table. Checks accompanied all those who delivered boxes. She scanned the list – more than three pages – and found no match. Was it possible someone on the Taron staff had connections to Green Sun? Was she thinking about this all wrong?

  Kara circled around every possibility, every conceivable motive, and then the words returned to her – the message Dae delivered moments before killing Mei:

  “The wedding was moved up because certain events have to play out before the alliance is announced. Somehow, the two of you are pivotal. Your new wedding date wasn’t negotiated, like you were told. It was mandated.”

  She grabbed the pistol. “Something’s going to happen. But what?”

  The other boxes stayed unopened as Kara considered her options.

  Finally, she made the only sensible decision and raced to the door. She waved Chi-Qua inside.

  “I need your help.”

  47

  T HE DAY WAS PERFECT FOR A WEDDING. Mild temperature, sun ducking between clouds, a soft breeze casting the amphitheater in the fragrance of tangerine roses. More than four hundred guests, dressed in spectacular colors and ostentatious fashion, filled every chair on a gentle grassy slope. Behind them, the turrets and arched classical frame of the Taron estate house overlooked the majesty. Before them, a stage awaited the new couple, their wedding party, and the prefect appointed to administer vows. On the wings, two carpets for that party’s entry: Red for Syung-Low, bronze for Taron. Everything appeared in perfect order.