“I realize none of this was your intent. You did not plan on the Splinter or the war across the divide. You loved Hokkaido despite having every reason to hate it. From what Hamilton tells me, you found a role as a leader among these so-called Twenty Talons. I once thought you might achieve similar with Green Sun if circumstance did not intervene. I believe, at some level, you want what all humans desire: To be loved and treated with dignity. But you lost your way, Ryllen. I cannot ignore your crimes. I also cannot ignore the political reality.”

  Lan paused. The screams of daffer frogs cut the night.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “There is a third option. It unnerves me, but I cannot shake it.”

  “Please, Lan. No. I’ll do anything for you. Just let me live.”

  “These ponds can be set ablaze with ease. All I will need is a small sample from the ashes to prove who you were. I could reach a settlement with the KumTaan to leave Green Sun in peace.”

  It was the fate he feared above all others: Fire. A different form of annihilation than what the Scroll spoke of.

  “If you tell me what to do, Lan, I promise I’ll follow through. I’ll hide in the shadows and never interfere with your operation.”

  “You will try, I’ve no doubt. Alas, you are not a man who can live in hiding for long. You must come up for air and stir the soup.”

  “I’m begging you, Lan. Give me a chance. I don’t deserve this.”

  “I came here tonight because I have fond memories of you. I recall the day many years ago – remember, it was Ascension? Kai Durin brought you before me at the Port of Pinchon. I thought you were rough on the edges but adorably naïve. Someone we could mold. You did your best for us. But now Green Sun is finished, The Lagos is in a state of panic, and the responsibility falls upon you and your accomplice, Ya-Li Taron. If my latest report is correct, Ya-Li is dying in a Pinchon hospital. You do see how so many problems will be solved if both of you are gone?”

  He heard an unfamiliar darkness in Lan’s voice. In the years he’d known the man, Lan Chua was cool to anger and suave in the face of an imminent threat.

  “I won’t say anything about you, Lan. I promise. Leave me here. I’ll stay a prisoner for years, if that’s what it takes.”

  “I wish there was a fourth option, Ryllen. I am desperately sorry. I spoke with your Scroll and paid him the remainder of his contract.”

  Something heavy splashed in the center of the pond. Ryllen detected a gaseous odor.

  “Please. No.”

  A flaming object fell from a position above Ryllen and hit the surface. The pond’s center exploded into a roaring blaze. The fire radiated outward in every direction. Three people stood on the far side.

  The heat wave hit him with a blast. A hole opened in his chest. He grabbed it and pulled back his hand, which was dressed in blood.

  He whimpered like the boy he killed in Zozo all those years ago.

  At long last, Ryllen understood why he felt no remorse.

  Exogenesis

  The Taron Estate

  Daselin 17, SY 5362

  Four years before the wedding

  W HEN YA-LI TARON WAS NINETEEN, he received a long-overdue summons. He walked into his great grandfather’s private study to find his elders relaxing, drinks in hand. They examined him in unison, as if a jury preparing to render judgment. But he knew the moment’s truth: They did not invite him by choice. He was special in a way they had yet to uncover. Ya-Li spent years anticipating this moment and their envious eyes. Nonetheless, he followed protocol and waited for the eldest to speak.

  “Join us,” said Ban-Ho Taron, once the most powerful man on Hokkaido. At one hundred and one, he carried an illusory power still respected by most and feared by a few. For Ya-Li, the old man offered kindness and a noticeable favoritism. “It would seem we are not allowed to proceed with our concerns unless you have a place in our company.”

  Present were his parents, two uncles, an aunt, and Grandmother Hoija. And off in the corner, waiting in the shadows, he saw an officer of Hotai Counsel who Ya-Li knew by reputation.

  “Honorable Great Grandfather, I’m humbled. May I sit?”

  Ban-Ho pointed to a kingly chair at his immediate right. When Ya-Li sat, all eyes turned to him, but he sensed reverence more so than confusion.

  “Ya-Li,” Ban-Ho said, “For months, we have been negotiating with a man named Amayas Knight who proposes an intriguing future for all Hokkis. His designs may offer great economic prosperity as well as long-term security. These talks have been ongoing with many elite families here and on other worlds. Tonight, we will be taking a crucial step. We will rendezvous with this man on Mangum Island. However, he will not meet unless you attend. He asked for you by name. Ya-Li, do you know Amayas Knight? Has he contacted you privately?”

  It was exactly as Bonju predicted.

  That prediction also came with a warning: “Give away nothing.”

  “I’m sorry, Honorable Great Grandfather. I’ve never heard of him. What is this business about the future?”

  Ban-Ho turned the explanation over to Hoija, who explained about a proposed economic and military alliance, with huge investments being made in each colonial world that joins. She did not mention the Splinter, other universes, or counterparts across the divide.

  Bonju said Amayas would follow this strategy: Conduct negotiations from a distance, waiting to ensure he built enough interest among the gentry, before playing his most valuable card.

  “He has many cubes,” said Bonju, who had yet to disclose the story of what happened years ago at the Origin. “He will use them judiciously. Amayas knows he must take careful steps.”

  “Why? What is he afraid of?”

  “Amayas wishes to build a better world, but he does not trust his instincts – or his clients. You will know when it’s time to step forward.”

  That time was not now. Ya-Li said nothing of his five-year education under Bonju’s tutelage. He did not speak of fractured universes, of singularities, or the physical nature of the Origin. He said nothing of the designs he spent long nights crafting, in part with the help of the Druud Crew. He offered no hint at how he incorporated Sebu’s artistic soul with Myka’s wisdom following a lifetime of endless pain.

  “If they don’t know what I’ve become,” he told Bonju weeks earlier, “they won’t respect my ideas. I’ll be the heir waiting for them to deliver my script. This internship at Hotai numbs my mind.”

  “This is the role you must play,” Bonju said. “If you upend the hierarchy, they will push back. Your grandmother concerns me greatly. If she meets her counterpart from my universe, I fear she will try to diminish your role.”

  Bonju spoke of the war that overtook his Hokkaido. He spoke of families who split allegiances, with some joining the Chancellor Swarm as colonial loyalists, while others turned to the resistance, both home-grown and in the galactic network called the Twenty Talons. The Taron family schism bothered him greatly, though he dodged it during their discussions of the future.

  “Hoija was always an aggressive woman,” Bonju said, “but I did not foresee her treason. She has become ruthless and favored of the Swarm. If she knew where to find me, she would take my cube and then my life.”

  It was the first time Bonju confessed to living in exile. Like all sensitive matters, he changed the topic before Ya-Li asked how long the war had gone on. He remained convinced: The cubes would someday give humanity the power to make its greatest evolutionary leap. The obstacle to that leap, of course, were humans.

  “This path will require finesse,” Bonju insisted.

  Ya-Li understood. He embraced the role, for this might be the night he anticipated more than any other.

  “Your shuttle is prepared.”

  The voice came from the shadows of the study. As they rose, Ban-Ho motioned the officer of Hotai into the light. He was a tall man with a pencil-thin mustache and a dark suit.

  “Ya-Li,” Ban-Ho said, “have you met Shin Wain?”

  “No, Honorable Great Grandfather.”

  Per request, they shook hands.

  “Pleasure,” Shin Wain said, though his tone implied otherwise.

  “Shin was our first contact to Amayas. He sits on the board of High Cannon Collective. You’re familiar with President Sho Parke?”

  “Yes, Honorable Great Grandfather. Who isn’t?”

  “Indeed. Honored Mr. Parke was the first Hokki to have dealings with Amayas. He appointed Shin as his liaison to the seamasters of Pinchon. We owe him a debt for bringing us into this new alliance.”

  Shin seemed unimpressed with the entire affair, offering a simple nod before leading the family toward the exit.

  En route to Mangum Island, Ya-Li sensed a strange tension among the family. They expected to witness something dramatic, but their excitement was tinged by a lingering fear. Was it the duplicitous nature of this alliance? Working outside government channels to benefit the elite families, foremost? Or did they suspect this magnificent deal was little more than a con, and they were walking into a trap?

  The family shared none of their concerns out loud, confining discussions to trivial matters. Ya-Li took notice of Shin Wain, who stared at the teenager for long stretches. Ya-Li thought the eyes were contemplative rather than menacing. They gave away nothing of intent, which itself bothered Ya-Li.

  “Honorable Mr. Wain,” he addressed the man, “how well do you know Amayas Knight?”

  The man’s brows creased. Was he offended by the question?

  “Well enough,” Shin said before looking away.

  Later, Hoija broke the quiet tension with a smile and a flourish.

  “Tell us, Ya-Li,” she said, “what do you want for your twentieth?”

  The birthday was weeks away. Ya-Li forgot.

  “I was thinking of something small, Honorable Grandmother. My last one was loud and ostentatious.”

  “As Taron birthdays are known to be.”

  “I was thinking of a simple dinner in the east garden. A few of my friends from Hotai and University.”

  Though he made up these plans on the spot, Hoija appeared satisfied. Perhaps she had another commitment on that date. Ya-Li did not see her potential absence as a loss.

  Hoija turned to his mother. “What of the other matter, Chan?”

  “Oh. Yes. I intend to address it soon, Honorable Mother.”

  It being the question of a wife. That unspoken mandate drifted through the estate like a ghost no one wanted to acknowledge. Ya-Li spent more time bouncing ideas off Bonju than his parents.

  “A wife will compromise our plans,” he told Bonju. “At best, I can drag out an engagement four years. It’s tradition among many. But what if they insist on a fast merger? She’ll be a wildcard.”

  “Not if she also found new life across the divide. Study the families who join the Alliance. Pay close attention when Amayas presents the cube. Look for an acceptable young woman and make contact at a later time.”

  “What if I have no interest in a wife? Now or ever?”

  “You seem to say you have no interest in love.”

  “I do. I want to love with passion. Hokki marriages are empty.”

  Bonju let out a dismissive grunt.

  “What if you satisfied the political necessities with someone who conquers your heart? This will require initiative, Ya-Li. If you tarry, they will force a political union.”

  He dreaded the inevitable audience with his parents. Hoija was pressing, which meant they would have to make a move soon. Ya-Li considered Bonju’s ideas and vowed to study everyone at HCC.

  When they landed outside High Cannon Collective, Shin Wain departed first, insisting the family remain onboard until summoned.

  Ya-Li sensed these negotiations were ongoing and fragile. A slipup from either side might cause a lasting rift.

  Four luxury sedans and a Scramjet decked the landing port. Each sedan featured a household crest. Ya-Li contained his enthusiasm when he recognized two such crests. Is it possible?

  After they entered the nondescript white complex, the Tarons arrived in a gallery with arena-style seating and a speaker’s valley at the core. The other guests were waiting. The families exchanged pleasant nods; they knew each other well. They were, for the most part, the corporate gods and goddesses of Pinchon. Some brought many relatives – extending into cousins, nieces, and nephews. Others limited to the direct line.

  Ya-Li’s hopes were answered. Park Doon sat beside his father Len-Ho, the Chief Financial Officer for Hotai Counsel. Weeb Low and two brothers joined the Syung-Low contingent, which was easily the largest. The combined lines of the house filled at least a dozen seats. In the front row: Perr and Li-Ann Syung were flanked by their sons, Lang and Dae. Where was Kara? She might have fit the template Bonju described. A momentary disappointment flickered and died as the program began.

  Amayas Knight entered without introduction or fanfare.

  The man’s size threw Ya-Li for a shock. He was nearly seven feet tall, with a broad chest, gray eyes, and beard a few days old. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His two-piece bodysuit reflected Hokki business standard, yet Ya-Li couldn’t help but wonder if Amayas was a Chancellor.

  Amayas began his presentation in the speaker’s valley:

  “The Collectorate ensured stability and predictability, regardless of your feelings about the Chancellory’s methods. Its fall left thirty-eight colonies isolated. Now they are genuine when they speak of independence and sovereignty. However, interstellar commerce has withered. Over time, I believe humanity itself will fade into neglect and revert to the savagery which dominated pre-history.

  “Why? Disorder will create a multitude of competing ideologies, some grasping the fruits of greatness; many catering to our most malevolent psychoses. We will destroy ourselves from within, and all remembrance of the generations who traveled the stars will disappear. As we evolved from creatures without language or tools, we will devolve until we are unrecognizable.

  “My message may seem alarmist, but I say this only as a point of comparison to the future my plan offers. I believe humanity can restore its collective balance and experience a leap of mind and heart through the three phases of my proposed Alliance. We begin by providing the colonies with a measure of control the Chancellors never afforded them: Interstellar trade and system-wide security. Then we gift each member world with a technological masterpiece that will solve one of their most pressing issues.”

  He threw open a holowindow and pointed to the worlds where factions were considering membership. A series of schematics listed proposed designs to tackle key issues, usually climatological or agricultural. He spoke of an interstellar legislative body to regulate trade and represent all member worlds. He dug deep into the potential economic windfall by world. He laid out a timeline to formally announce the new Alliance in five years. As Amayas built a comprehensive logistical case for this new Alliance, Ya-Li heard nothing unexpected. Much of it resembled Bonju’s prediction.

  “How did you know he would go this route?” Ya-Li asked Bonju.

  The answer was halting. “Amayas seeks redemption. He found his answer at the Origin. Or so he believes. In my experience, men who seek to offset the dark consequence of their deeds with acts of goodness are noble yet misguided.”

  “Misguided? How?”

  “They see redemption as the cure, but they don’t understand: The maladies that corrupted them live on. Greed, ambition, jealousy, murder. These qualities are inherent. They lie in limbo, awaiting the master’s call. In the corrupted man, these qualities are stronger and more adaptable than the loftiest moral values.”

  “Ah. So, this alliance by itself will provide short-term opportunity for the colonies but fall prey to man’s corrupting stripes.”

  “Correct. Only Phase Three of his plan offers any genuine hope.”

  “The cube. You believe he will allow to us to look inside tonight.”

  “I do. Amayas is not a strong salesman, but he has the proper magic trick to seal the compact.”

  “Will the cube convince everyone?”

  “No. But the few who resist won’t dare speak out.”

  To Ya-Li’s surprise, Amayas answered every audience question following his presentation, and he did so with a steady hand. To no surprise, money featured heavily. Amayas confessed at last what several Hokkis implied: His Alliance could not be entirely financed by the participating colonies, even if planetary governments raised taxes to support the endeavor. The “miracles” he promised would cost many trillions of Dims. Therefore, he secured investments from motivated factions of Chancellors who no longer saw Earth as a viable home. The Earth civil war, he said, would end in months with a Chancellor defeat. The exiled factions would seek new alliances to rebuild their lives.

  “The Chancellory will never rule again,” he reassured the restless. “The new age will be for you.”

  This did not put an end to their concerns, but the cube did. The moment was as magical and hypnotic as Ya-Li anticipated.

  Amayas held the glowing cube in his left hand and spoke of greater goals than a mere economic alliance:

  “Each of us represents a portion of a fabric extending across many universes. We are fragmented beings, always destined to fall short of our evolutionary potential. But this device will allow you to join with the other fragments. You will be able to learn from them. Together, each of you will become whole, a greater version of yourself than your fractured genetics will allow.”

  He explained no more, though Ya-Li knew an appreciation of the greater picture required many hours of consumption. Amayas massaged the cube and appeared to sing at a whisper.

  The eight spikes exploded beyond the cube to fill the room. The spikes widened and became like roads. Ya-Li felt as if he were holding the cube in his palm, for his eight paths extended outward from his field of vision. He heard the many voices of the other worlds, though the smells and tastes emanated only from the universes where Bonju, Myka, and Sebu lived.

  He cried, as did his fragments, when he touched their hands and ran his fingers along their skin. He looked closer into their eyes, as if he were dancing solo with each.