I’m here. I’m not here.

  Despite having five years to embrace the concept of fragmented lives, Ya-Li felt the sheer impossibility of the moment. To cross untold light-years and the impenetrable skin separating whole universes without ever moving? To feel the love of genetic duplicates born on different timelines in different environments and to know your destinies were tied together?

  Minutes later, Amayas concealed the cube and its eight roads. To his tearful and rapturous audience, he said:

  “They will be with you as long as you live. Only the destruction of the cube can sever these ties. The degree to which you choose to learn and grow with them will be your own. This is the reward for membership in the Alliance. We will become greater than the sum of everyone who passed before us. To this end, the nature of our Alliance must not be discussed outside the membership. The secret of the cube and the universes beyond must remain hidden to outsiders. Any betrayal will compromise our future.

  “You are special. Hokkaido will have a vital role in the Alliance. Over the coming months, you will learn more. Many of you will visit my permanent base of operations. I will select emissaries from each member world and faction. These emissaries will be tasked with leading the Alliance into the future and expanding the cube’s reach.

  “I will leave you alone now to discuss the experience among yourselves. Going forward, direct all communiques through Shin Wain. When he is unavailable, you may speak to Sho Parke. In time, I will provide a local emissary for the seamasters of Pinchon.”

  Amayas turned to leave, and hushed voices grew louder among his clients. He stopped at the exit, however, and turned.

  “With your permission, House of Taron, I wish to speak with Ya-Li in private.”

  The crowd reacted as if Ya-Li were offered a special audience with a god. He looked across to Weeb and Park, who had entered the multipronged existence he hid from them for five years. When might they next meet as an open-eyed team with greater purpose?

  Ya-Li, of course, knew this was coming. After all, he and Amayas already knew each other, so to speak. Though Bonju refused to talk about what passed between him and Amayas at the Origin, he predicted Amayas would seek a reunion via The Lagos.

  The two entered an HCC office with spartan furnishings and dim lighting. Amayas set the cube on the empty desk and sighed.

  “It’s been a long time, Ya-Li,” he said.

  Bonju echoed inside Ya-Li: “He’s referring to me. Not you. Let go, like I’ve taught you. I won’t take over for long, Ya-Li.”

  “Long is a relative concept,” Bonju told Amayas. His influence deepened Ya-Li’s softer, lilting voice. “Seven years for me. I estimate no more than three for you.”

  “Very good. I’ll make no apologies, Ya-Li. I stand by my choice.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Ya-Li detected injury in Bonju’s tone. “For the sake of the present, I am known as Bonju to my fragments.”

  “Wasn’t that your father’s name?”

  “Yes. And a good one. Your plan is ambitious, but I expected no less. It is also likely to fail.”

  “Why? Because you did not think of it first?”

  “Oh, I did. But I lack your resources. You know what I mean.”

  “I do. Again, no apologies. But there is hope. If I succeed, you succeed by default. This is what I want you to know: I am not doing this for my universe alone.”

  Bonju grinned. “An earnest man with noble goals. I won’t stand in your way.”

  “As if you could, Bonju.”

  Amayas shaded his eyes and grabbed the cube.

  “I want to speak with Ya-Li now. He stands before me.”

  “Of course. It has been … unusual … seeing you again, Amayas.”

  “We’ll meet again, Bonju. Goodbye.”

  Ya-Li’s transition to his own voice proved seamless. He felt Bonju recede to a minor shadow.

  “I’m here, Honorable Mr. Knight.”

  “Please,” Amayas said. “No honorifics. I despise Hokki formality.”

  Making sure the door behind him was closed, Ya-Li replied:

  “As do I. My training forces me to …”

  “Yes, yes. I know all about it. Perhaps your mission in life will be to lead a revolution ending such provincial nonsense. Ya-Li, I want you to know how important I see your role going forward. I did not call you here as a mouthpiece for Bonju. I’ve done my research. You are an exceptional intellect even without Bonju’s influence. May I ask: How long has he been training you?”

  “Five years.”

  Amayas dipped his chin. “Five …? So, the time disparity truly is extreme. Ya-Li, you have been looking across the divide longer than anyone in this universe. I returned from the Origin, cubes in hand, three years ago.”

  This revelation did not jolt Ya-Li; he learned about the variance in relative time in the first months of his training.

  “The talk you had with Bonju lasted a minute on this side,” Ya-Li said, “but spanned more than an hour from Bonju’s perspective. The great mystery lies in how we are able to communicate fluidly despite the disparity. Do you know the answer?”

  “I have theories. The answer lies at the heart of the cube.”

  “Or another trip to the Origin, perhaps? Amayas, I want to be emissary for Hokkaido. I might not have the political power of my elders, but I have a vision for what Hokkaido can become within the Alliance. I am well prepared to step into the role.”

  Amayas nodded. “Your selection to emissary was a given, Ya-Li. For the time, you will need to be a silent executive. Until the entire power base within The Lagos and the central continental government endorses the Alliance, you will not be able to lead without a clear and present danger to your life. I will provide you a secure link to me through Shin Wain. Is this acceptable to you?”

  More than he could have hoped for.

  “It is.” He heard his fragments cheering. He reached into his pants pocket and grabbed a memglass he brought along, just in case. “You have yet to decide upon a miracle technology for Hokkaido.”

  “Correct. Hokkaido has many needs. What do you have there?”

  “The solution. It’s been my most important work since Bonju came into my life. It’s an orbital platform. I’ve developed it with two friends who saw through the cube for the first time tonight. I believe you’ll recognize its value.”

  Amayas took the memglass. “I will give it my full attention, Ya-Li.”

  “Thank you, Amayas. I call it The Sweeper. It will change the human race one planet at a time, starting with Hokkaido.”

  Amayas smiled.

  “Great men seek great change. I look forward to working with you.”

  PART THREE

  ASCENSION

  “Who do we trust more? A man who is thrust into power, or one who takes it?”

  “Bet on the man who plays offense.”

  19

  The Taron Estate

  24 days after the wedding

  Y A-LI TARON BURIED HIS PARENTS exactly four years after befriending Amayas Knight. He kept the north garden ceremony small: His surviving aunts and uncles, senior household staff, and a eulogist who had spoken at Taron funerals for half a century. Security was never far away, as discreet as men with blast rifles might be.

  He sat at the front in a wheelchair, his right arm propped by a sling, and watched the formalities of a ceremony he knew far too well. The eulogist conducted the Rites of Final Love behind the altar on which two gold vases contained the ashes of Moon and Chan Taron. The eulogist, himself not long for the dark night, read the passages Moon and Chan prepared years in advance – a tradition among the Haansu elite. He read messages from family and friends then snuffed the candles adjacent to the vases.

  It was brief and simple, a departure from the extravagance of a Taron lifestyle, but true to the principle that death may not overshadow life, even for a day.

  Ya-Li followed the eulogist into the Taron family mausoleum, pushed by his bodyguard, Burr Sheong, and watched as he set each vase into the open cabinets with new plaques upon their doors.

  “Do you wish to say anything before I close?” The eulogist asked.

  “No. I’d like to remain here alone with them.”

  “Of course.” The eulogist shut the cabinets. “I wish you all my very best, Ya-Li. I know you will rise above these tragic losses.”

  It wasn’t the first time he heard that refrain in the five days since he and twenty-three others were attacked across The Lagos. What must one young man endure? Wife. Mother. Father. Two aunts. Two uncles. Grandmother. Great Grandfather.

  Yet as he sat in the wide corridor, with stacked cabinets on both walls holding the ashes of Tarons dating back six centuries, Ya-Li took greatest pause when considering how horribly close he came to joining the deceased. His designed last-second movement landed him five centimeters shy of where the flash-peg should have cut him down. Instead, the weapon nicked a vital artery and left him minutes from bleeding out. Had his gambit failed, what would have been the point of killing everyone who might have opposed him?

  “Give me a few minutes, Burr.”

  The guard, who felt humiliation at not stopping the assassination attempt and offered to resign when Ya-Li regained consciousness, bowed and stepped far away. From the moment Ya-Li rejected Burr’s resignation, the guard doubled down on protecting the last survivor in the direct line of Taron descension. No one came near Ya-Li without passing strict protocols – including the Druud crew of Weeb Low and Park Doon. A smothering but temporary necessity.

  “He’s rabid,” Bonju told Ya-Li an hour before the funeral. “He’ll give his life, if that’s what it takes. The more of them in your company, the stronger your hand.”

  “Agreed. The real enemies are lining up to take their shots at me. Cross the seamasters at your peril, they say.”

  Indeed, the world was shaken not just by the many attacks which took out prominent players across the islands but also by Ya-Li’s announcement of staggering price drops on all Hotai products. Though many Hokkis assumed the plan might collapse, Ya-Li insisted from his hospital room that the mechanisms of change push forward. He called for a new Convocation to elect six members to the President’s Board, joining his six named selections. He expected them to ratify the policy changes in days, not weeks. He instructed Park to oversee the logistical preparations, father Len-Ho to prepare a financial prospectus for the Board, and Weeb to work closely with the KumTaan to provide extra security around all Hotai facilities and ships.

  The competition – though long a product of collusion more than fair market capitalism – refused to stand for the changes. They tempered their responses, however, in respect for the dead and dying. After today, Ya-Li expected something approaching corporate warfare.

  “Sometimes I wonder,” he told Bonju. “Should I have wiped out the presidents of all the seamasters? There’s something to be said for negotiating when your competitors are in disarray.”

  “No. You played this well. They’re frightened and likely consider themselves fortunate to be alive. Their claws will not draw blood.”

  “Which is why I’m meeting with them today, before they have a chance to develop a useful strategy.”

  As he sat in the mausoleum, surrounded by the ashes of all who worked to build the Taron legacy, Ya-Li wondered what they might make of him. Would they appreciate an ambition that vaulted over the weight of the Taron name and focused on all Hokkis? Could they see beyond a fealty bound by genetics?

  He was glad he didn’t have to face a jury of his ancestors.

  “Great men seek great change,” he whispered, repeating the words Amayas Knight uttered when they met. Ya-Li looked at the cabinets of his immediate family. “The only change you ever wanted was in the size of your personal holdings. This is how it had to be.”

  Young Sebu appeared inside a halo. The boy’s touch felt immediate. He faced Ya-Li with tears streaming.

  “Don’t you feel alone?” The boy said. “Haven’t you lost more than you gained, Ya-Li?”

  “I’m not alone, Sebu. I have the family I need. You, Bonju, and Myka. Weeb and Park also. We should walk through life with those who want to be at our side, not those who fight us at every turn.”

  The boy sighed. Ya-Li could feel his torment.

  “We need people to show us the way when we’re lost,” Sebu said. “We do not have to love them.”

  “True. But I have explained. Our traditions repress anyone who lacks seniority within the family. If I had confronted my elders directly and forced their hand, I would have been silenced.”

  “Elders are wise. They have the benefit of long life.”

  “So they claim, Sebu, but the assumption that age is the prerequisite to wisdom is a fool’s arrogance. They merely repeat the mantras passed down through generations and cast them as their own. Is this any different in your community? Do the elders not have rules for all facets of your life? Do they not punish rogue behavior?”

  Sebu cowered his eyes.

  “They do this to protect us.”

  “They do it to control you. Is there a difference?”

  The boy hesitated. “I suppose not.”

  “Sebu, I don’t ask you to support my methods. I only wish you to understand them. What life is there for the man who cannot choose his own?”

  Sebu reached for his violin and walked away into the night, his halo dissolving.

  “Don’t you go worrying about the kid,” old Myka said, appearing for the first time in days. “You’re teaching the hard truths. He’ll have to make up his mind one day or the bastards will lock him in a spell ‘til his last breath.”

  The old man, who frequently dipped into coughing fits, was lying in bed drinking from a flask.

  “I’m glad you’re still with us,” Ya-Li said. “Is someone tending to your needs?”

  Myka laughed. “I’m full out of needs and time. What I got left, I’m using to watch your shenanigans. I’m entertained.”

  “You need to eat. You look terrible. I want you to be around for Ascension. It will be the biggest day of my life. I want all my family with me. Promise, Myka?”

  “I’m giving it my best, boy.”

  Ya-Li heard the uncertainty in the old man’s tone. For years, Myka claimed the doctors could do nothing more, that rest and comfort were the only priorities, that he might waste away in days or weeks. And still, he plugged on. Now, he wasn’t sure the latest round of exhaustion and difficulty breathing would dissipate.

  “Enough,” Ya-Li said loud enough for Burr to rush to his side. “I’ve seen all of this place I intend to.”

  Burr pushed him toward the exit.

  “Your aunts and uncles are waiting outside, sir. You spoke earlier of wishing to avoid them afterward. We can leave through the east door if you prefer.”

  “No, this will be fine. If they want to spend time in here with their brother or sister, who am I to deny them?”

  “I think they wish to have words with you.”

  “If they become obnoxious, you’ll know what to do. Yes?”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  Seven waited outside the mausoleum, their huddle breaking up as Ya-Li appeared. Four aunts, three uncles, aged from thirty to seventy. Not a tear or red eye among them. Perhaps they’d dispensed with their grief before today. Or maybe, Ya-Li reasoned, they’d used their time together to stiffen their spines. He saw the salacious greed in their eyes along with the inevitable suspicion that they were going to be deprived of what they deserved.

  “Honorable Ya-Li,” said Uncle Soto, stepping forward as if the appointed spokesman. He used an honorific normally designated for an elder. “We thank you for allowing us to say farewell to Moon and Chan. We realize you were not obligated to provide the traditional Rites of Final Love, given the circumstance.”

  “It seemed the right thing,” Ya-Li said. “Please, spend as much time with them as you care. I’m tired, and I have a long day ahead of me.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, Honorable Ya-Li. But you see, we have concerns we’d like to bring to your attention. If you’d care to sit down with us, we promise to be concise.”

  He glanced up at Burr and winked.

  “You want to know your share of my parents’ estate, and you want to know how quickly it will be divided. Is that the gist?”

  Shame clouded Soto’s blue eyes.

  “Not at all, Honorable Ya-Li. We …”

  “And you want to make an additional plea that I retract my Hotai pricing strategy. These things you wish on the day of my parents’ funeral? May I ask, Uncle? Have you had a sudden shortfall of Dims, leaving you in dire straits?”

  “Of course not, but as you might …”

  “Might what? Five days ago, I came within a centimeter of my life as I attempted to do the right thing for the Hokki people. My parents’ bodies were charred beyond recognition when their sedan exploded on the UpWay. I am trying to manage the second largest corporation on this planet. I am the last surviving member of the Taron direct line. What I recommend to you all is this: Return to your estates and console yourselves with all the trappings you possess. In a few days, you will hear from my solicitor.”

  He nodded to Burr, who did the rest. The guard stepped between Ya-Li and his relatives then pointed to the mausoleum.

  “Please, spend all the time you need with those you lost. Mr. Taron has made himself clear.”

  No one else demonstrated a stiff spine. Oh, well, Ya-Li thought. I can’t fault them for trying.

  Not that their suspicions were misplaced. Ya-Li read his parents’ final will and testament. They rewrote it after the wedding massacre, which didn’t surprise him. Their disbursement of Dims and Hotai stakes did. Best that his aunts and uncles be denied access for a good while – at least until after Ascension.

  He moved beyond those concerns by the time Burr wheeled him to the great library, long his sanctuary. Burr opened the double doors to a sight that lifted Ya-Li’s heart.