Ryllen gambled with his next words, knowing they might be enough to end his rent-free holiday.
“Kai, are you Green Sun?”
Ryllen’s host almost let go of a full smile, baring teeth. Instead, he grabbed both plates and carried them to the steam wash. Kai spoke without turning around.
“You know I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to have you from the first night, RJ. But I can’t, and not because you might say no. Given a choice of tides, I think you’d prefer women. The real reason I can’t share your bed is because I’d have to reveal myself. It’s against the rules. I’d end up worse off than when you were sleeping outside in Umkau. It’s no accident you’ve never seen me undressed.”
Kai returned to the table, finished his mango juice, and studied Ryllen with a pensive stare.
“I like your braids,” he said. “But they need a flourish. I’m thinking of accents in rose and violet. Appropriate for Ascension, don’t you think? I’ll add the accents when I come home tonight.”
Ryllen agreed because he had no choice. Kai was shutting down the conversation. Just as important, Kai was an expert in hair; he changed his own colors and styles weekly.
“If there’s anything I can do, Kai, please tell me. I’d like the opportunity, if it becomes available.”
Kai flexed his brows then kissed Ryllen on the cheek. As he turned to leave, Kai hesitated. Ryllen’s stomach roiled in the momentary silence. Had he said too much?
“RJ, have you heard the nickname my friends gave you?”
“Sure. They’re not subtle.”
“Do you know why they call you the Idiot of The Lagos?”
“I haven’t asked, but I assume.”
Kai reached into the chest pocket of his yellow, double-breasted jacket and revealed a cylindrical pipe, packed with poltash weed.
“A misfit, they say. Off-worlder passing as Hokki, stupid enough to leave the shield of his family. Worse than an immo. They don’t see courage. They see idiocy. It’s a good thing you have me, RJ.
“But I worry. How much longer can I do this? The worst word in all of Engleshe is idiot.” He tapped his pipe, and the end glowed blue. He inhaled. “I’ll see what I can do for you. In the meantime, be patient. Work on your rifter. Stay within the narrows.”
Which is precisely what Ryllen did over the next nine days, with no hint of what was to come. He awoke to a prerecorded bicomm message from Kai, who left for work prior to sunrise. The hologram rose from his wrist before he stepped into the shower.
“I told him about you,” Kai said. “He thinks you have promise, but he never makes a decision like this without looking a man in the eyes. Meet us, RJ. You only have this one chance. If you’re not there, he’ll force me to do something I’ll regret.”
The rest of the message included the time and location.
Ryllen spent the day in an emotional frenzy, each eighty-minute hour dragging without mercy. He laid out a full-proof plan to arrive early, charted the simplest course, picked out a suit from among Kai’s ensemble, and refined the accents in his braids the way Kai showed him. Naturally, because the universe had no use for idiots, Ryllen jumped into his rifter and discovered an ignition failure.
He needed forty minutes to repair the system, just enough to set him into a war against time and traffic.
Dodging larger vehicles without incurring FD detection, Ryllen allowed anxiety to cloud judgment. No chance he’d make the rendezvous in time at this rate. If he left the UpWay at an early OutPass and hit the flat lanes too soon, he might encounter stifling congestion among slower, more cautious ground traffic – not to mention burgeoning crowds filling the streets for Ascension festivals.
Soon, the city’s domes and curvaceous glass towers rose on either side of the UpWay. He was passing the expansive corporate cluster, where the offices of Hokkaido’s greatest seamasters demonstrated their economic might. Far to the south, his destination awaited.
Suddenly, he entertained an absurd notion.
Maybe …
He grabbed the rifter’s steering arms and prepared to take a chance.
“I’m not moving back in with Mother.”
He nose-dived into OutPass 10. The binding fields drew him onto Nantou Boulevard. The key was knowing how to time his violation of the city’s traffic laws. If he was right, the streets within the corporate cluster would be more open. The seamasters would have allowed their employees off early to join families and festivals. All he had to do was know when to accelerate and leave the proximity police helpless.
“OK, RJ,” he whispered between heaving breaths. “You wanna be a criminal? Show Green Sun what you can do.”
He programmed his guidance web for maneuvers he wasn’t sure the rifter could handle. The instant his machine hit street level, he took stock. Motorized luxury carriages – the wheeled variety – and a few proximity police drones filled his view along with a smattering of citizens crossing the narrow streets. The titanic headquarters of the seamasters blocked out the sun, the moon, and the rings.
The guidance web leaped into a hologram and showed him the fastest route through the business district. If this worked, he’d cut his time in half – still, no guarantees of making the introduction to Lan Chua. One way or the other, this was nuts.
At the first intersection, Ryllen turned off velocity controls, dropped his steering arms in a suicidal maneuver, and allowed the guidance web to do the rest. He held tight as the rifter rocketed skyward parallel to the headquarters of Nantou Global. Forty floors high, the rifter banked hard left, skirted within ten meters of Nantou’s glass façade, banked right at the tower’s northeast corner and chased south toward the destination.
Ryllen heard the klaxons of the proximity police drones. His gambit rested on the unqualified assumption the drones had neither the velocity nor legal standing to pursue him. However, if they backed off from the chase too soon, their retreat might signal a greater problem: namely, that anti-terrorist laser beacons were being unleashed to bring him down. These nasty buggers were rarely seen – like rooftop snipers – and known only to have been fired from the corporate towers twice in the past ten years.
Were they effective? No one ever talked on the record, and any “debris” was cleaned away before the public stumbled upon it. Yet the law was explicit: Any private or commercial vehicle flying more than one hundred meters high or beyond velocity limits without ITD clearance was subject to immediate retaliation by Pinchon’s automated defense shield. Ryllen knew the law by heart – he was tested on the regulations before receiving his personal-vehicle license. If he survived this stupidity, he would save nine minutes.
After a fourth hard bank, the rifter emerged from the corporate cluster unscathed, though gravity’s whiplash left Ryllen feeling sick all over. Still, he smiled.
Dead ahead, the Port of Pinchon. Beyond it, the great isthmus leading outward to the Point of the Redeemer. Hundreds of ships bringing great cargos of Kohlna fish, Kanteemi cabbage, and other jewels of the sea to feed and heal a world of two billion.
All he had to do was dive down to street level at the port’s main entrance, lock the rifter inside the binding fields, and pilot at casual speed to Quay 95. Set down quietly, casually stroll up to the loading gate of the ship Quantum Majesty then wait for Lan Chua to emerge as Kai promised. The hard part, at least, seemed over.
Ryllen locked inside the elevated transport field and plotted his destination into the guidance web. He was two minutes out.
Good. A minute to spare ahead of the rendezvous time.
Sound and fury escorted him down the homestretch as crews off-loaded and gathered at festival tents. Smoke wafted from long grills and from thousands of poltash-stuffed pipes. Music, deep in bass, blared across the isthmus, often from speakers planted on ships’ bows. Those same ships lit up in a kaleidoscope of celebratory colors. For a few hours, the economic driver of Pinchon and all the many islands of The Lagos was shut down.
Ryllen was breathing eas
y when Quay 95 came into view. He didn’t detect the odd juxtaposition to the music and celebration. Not until flashers reflected upon the rifter’s bubble did he dare to look back.
“Cudfrucker.”
A crab-like Scram bearing the blue/yellow logo of the ITD and flashing an array of red lights closed fast. The rifter’s guidance web launched into hologram mode, this time sporting a verbal warning.
“Attention, Pilot of Rifter 6733. You are ordered to disengage your binding lock and set down at Quay 93. Failure to do so will constitute a transport violation subject to terms of immediate imprisonment. You have thirty seconds to comply.”
Ryllen didn’t respond, with no desire to set down shy of his destination. Best case? He’d lose his license, spend seven days in prison, and work forced labor for six months to pay off the ludicrous fines. He’d face a lesser sentence if he killed an immo in cold blood.
The Scram closed to within two meters of the rifter by the time he reached Quay 95 and began to extend its grapplers. Ryllen broke hard and dropped from the binding field.
His next move required perfect timing. The crowd inside the quay was too thick to see Kai Durin or Lan Chua, but they’d be waiting at the agreed upon location in seconds if Kai held up his end.
Ryllen cozied his rifter into a thin slot between a pair of silent cargo drones, threw open the bubble, and hopped out with a flourish. The Scram couldn’t fit into these tight quarters, but as he anticipated, the crowd cleared when the ship made a forced landing, a booming voice claiming this was a necessary police action.
He ducked around the drones and tried to blend into the crowd at the quay’s entry gate. Ryllen looked back once and saw ITD officers in full pursuit, as if his machinations never fooled them. Long before he secured his license, Ryllen heard a familiar mantra: Never screw with the ITD.
The open grills - barbecuing Kohlna and green prawns alongside steaming plantains and spiced choy – smelled intoxicating. Nobody cooked the island’s favorite meal like true seamasters. In any other context, Ryllen wouldn’t have been able to resist. But if everything fell through in the next minute, if his final gamble collapsed, he’d come nowhere near food this amazing for months.
Again, he looked back. The officers spotted him, pointed, grabbed for their weapons, and closed in.
That’s when we saw Kai’s spectacular pink hair descending the Quantum Majesty’s forward gangplank. This was going to be close.
He arrived at the instant Kai disembarked along with an entourage. In the middle of the cluster, as if surrounded by personal security, one of the most powerful men in The Lagos carried himself with a swagger of invincibility. He was taller than the others, tightly groomed, an off-white suit with a flowered neck scarf and a lapel sporting the rose-and-violet colors of Ascension. His slim mustache framed his lips, as if penciled on his face. It was a style reserved for those who commanded absolute respect.
This was not, however, what Ryllen felt when his eyes met Lan Chua. The Executive Chairman of Discipline at Nantou Global seemed less interested in the braided young poser than he did the ITD officers who caught up to their prey.
“What is your business?” Chua asked.
“Pardon the disruption, sir,” an officer replied. “We’re retrieving this miscreant. He will be dealt with and out of your way.”
Kai stepped forward, turning to Chua.
“Sir, this is RJ. The one I told you about. I don’t know of his trouble, but I’m sure he has a sound explanation.”
Chua patted Kai on the shoulder and appeared amused.
“Kai speaks highly of you,” he told Ryllen. “What have you done to stir ITD?”
A denial wasn’t going to work. Ryllen saw through Chua, as he did all those like his late father. No. Proof of fealty would win the day.
“Lan Chua, my sincerest apologies,” Ryllen said. “I risked my life because I wanted more than anything to see you. I violated a number of transport laws in order to be here. I broke elevation barriers inside the corporate cluster to reduce my travel time. I knew the risk, but this introduction is the most important opportunity of my life. I ask for mercy. I will repay your generosity many times over.”
Chua studied Ryllen, who lowered his eyes until hearing a direct response. Chua turned to the officers.
“Does he speak the truth?”
“I can’t know his motivation,” an officer said, “but we have him on more than ten violations of transport code, including a mockery of elevation barriers.”
“And what kind of vehicle did he use?”
“A modified rifter, sir.”
“Really? Hmmph.”
Kai intervened. “RJ is an excellent pilot and mechanic. His modifications are exceptional, sir.”
The next few seconds stifled Ryllen. No one said a word.
Lan Chua leaned into Kai and whispered in his ear. Chua tapped Ryllen’s chin, giving permission to look up. Then the boss walked past Ryllen and to the officers.
“I think we’ve had more than sufficient excitement,” he told the men. “What do you say we erase the details of this incident? Enjoy Ascension. Why don’t each of you have a plate on me? No one sears Kohlna like my personal chef.”
Ryllen didn’t turn around, nor did he hear the officers object. He faced Kai, whose attempt at a poker face fell short. Kai drew close, wrapped a hand around Ryllen’s neck, and lowered his voice.
“You’re in, you lucky snake.” He kissed Ryllen on the cheek. “Welcome to Green Sun.”
Ryllen dared to hope. “You’re not having me on?”
“You risked your life to look him in the eye. It’s all he needs to know. Lan is a difficult man. Very selective. Very cautious.”
“I should thank him.”
Kai replied with a sharp tongue.
“No. Not tonight.” He nodded across the crowd. Ryllen pivoted. Lan Chua had moved on, introducing the ITD officers to his personal chef, who was supervising a long grill. “He knows you’re grateful. He demands action. Not words.”
“Understood. What now?”
Kai revealed his pipe and tapped it on. He inhaled then blew out a white cloud of high-end poltash smoke. He handed it to Ryllen, who pulled a long drag. It was sweeter than sugar.
“Now,” Kai said, “we change your life forever. Let’s go.”
As Kai ushered him away, Ryllen asked, “What about my rifter? I’m more than illegally parked.”
“Not for long. You nav, I’ll point.”
After they hopped into the rifter and the bubble closed around them, Kai laughed.
“Stay inside the narrows this time,” he said. “We don’t need any more hassle from ITD.”
Ryllen appreciated the order; he preferred to limit his acts of utter stupidity to one a day. The next leg of his journey into Green Sun ended a few blocks east of the port in Umkau, not far from where Kai found Ryllen sleeping in a culvert three months ago.
Umkau was both the most electric and dangerous district of Pinchon, with its hundreds of bars, lounges, and “special” entertainment bungalows catering to a local crowd consisting mostly of the seamasters’ crews. Flashing neon, graffiti, and homeless itinerants (most of them immos) dominated the narrow streets, which were centuries old. Mobile kiosks selling cheap fish rolls, pared sea cabbage, and deep-fried confections competed for attention on every block. No vehicles larger than rifters flew over these streets. The rooftops, typically no more than five floors high, were already crowding with Ascension watch parties.
Kai directed Ryllen to enter an alley just past the intersection of Ho-Li 1 and Ho-Li 2. The rifter stopped outside a nondescript door, above which flashed in neon: Nothing to See Here.
A young woman, perhaps twenty, her hair matching Kai’s for its showmanship, blocked the entrance. She wore a red, full-length bodysuit, form-fitting and curvaceous. She offered no reaction to Ryllen and did not let down her guard with Kai until he opened his arms and brought her into an embrace. They kissed with the passion of a long overdue
reunion. Ryllen never saw Kai with a woman or heard him express interest.
When their lips parted, she eyed Ryllen with deep suspicion.
“This is the one you told me about?” She said. “The poser?”
“Harsh, Mei. Very harsh. No, RJ prefers Idiot of The Lagos. But, he’s one of us now.”
“He saw Lan?”
“Flying colors. Now, we stamp him.”
She pushed away from Kai and eyed Ryllen with disdain.
“Are we this desperate? They don’t even have to be Hokki?”
“Sweet-things! Are you being racist?”
“I’m practical.”
Kai waved Ryllen forward. “He’ll do more for us than most. You’ll see. Now, what say you let us in? Boetha’s waiting.”
As they entered, Kai ignored formal introductions, and the woman seemed uninterested in greeting the newbie.
“Who was that?” Ryllen asked once inside.
“My sister.” Kai laughed when Ryllen turned pale. “Oh, yeah. That. She’s adopted. We’ve had a thing for each other since I was twelve. She’s one degree colder every time I see her.”
They entered what appeared at first blush to be a tiny repair shop, its shelves of gadgets lining three walls. Behind the work bench, itself cluttered with a showcase for disorganization, a tall, thin Hokki with a three-day beard reclined while playing hologames.
“Boetha, you magnificent dorsal fin.” Kai shouted his common street insult, drawing the man out of his momentary pleasure.
Rather than taking offense, Boetha jumped from his chair and raced around the work bench, greeting Kai with a joyous hug.
“Pink is surely your color, Kai Durin. What did I tell you?”
“Lilac. Which, by the way, I tried for about an hour. No thanks.”
“I recommended lilac? Hmm. What can I tell you? It comes. It goes.” He faced Ryllen. “This is your RJ?”
“It is. Lan approved him. Time for the stamp.”
He waved them toward a door Ryllen only now noticed. On the other side, the room was smaller, the light brighter. In the center, an unmistakable chair sprawled beneath a series of phasic tools.
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