“She’s very pretty.”

  Sebu appeared inside a halo, as if sitting at the table’s far end.

  “She is,” Ya-Li said. “I hope she’ll agree to be a part of my life. Do you remember her?”

  “I do.” Sebu’s cheeks turned red. “You made love to her.”

  “In that context, it wasn’t love, but I hope someday it will be.”

  “Those things are forbidden here. Love is chosen by the elders.”

  “No, Sebu. Love is not chosen by others. You make that choice alone. There’s no guarantee of an equal response, but it’s worth the risk. There’s happiness in having a partner who believes in you.”

  Sebu nodded to show he understood, but he also frowned.

  “This woman has been with others. Our community would kill someone like her.”

  “Have you ever seen it done, Sebu?”

  “No, but I have heard stories. Most are banished. At least, this is what the elders say.”

  “Did you think the punishment is deserved?”

  “No. Ya-Li, why do we kill people and claim to be righteous?”

  “I can’t answer for others. They’ve been doing it since the dawn of time. I can only speak for myself. I’ve killed people close to me because I see a bigger purpose. I can justify my actions. At least, that’s what I tell myself.”

  The boy looked down. Ya-Li had no sense of his surroundings. Perhaps he was speaking from bed after lights-out.

  “You don’t want to be alone with yourself,” Sebu said. “It hurts too much, doesn’t it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I’m starting to understand. I have to go now, Ya-Li.”

  The boy disappeared. Though Ya-Li deftly multi-tasked his dinner conversation alongside the internal connection with his counterpart, the only words that stuck were Sebu’s. The boy was evolving toward a new awareness. Good or ill, Ya-Li couldn’t say, but the inner peace that resonated through his music was corrupted. That child needed to escape his elders. Yet if he left, wouldn’t Sebu suffer the punishment of loneliness?

  There has to be a way to get you out of there.

  By the time dessert arrived, and much wine was consumed, the table dialogue turned playful, none of it centered on the dire events of recent weeks or the complicated future ahead. Rather, it reversed the clock.

  “Wasn’t all that long ago,” Weeb mused, “that little punks like me weren’t allowed to say shit at the table until the Honorables gave permission. It’s a damn sight better where we are now.”

  “I have four brothers and two sisters,” Dani said. “We were born over seven years. Mother was … busy. We had two tables for the evening dine. One for my parents and grandparents, another for the children. Separate rooms, no less.”

  “That’s novel,” Cho said. “I gather you were allowed to speak?”

  “Freely. The good part was that we always looked forward to it. The bad part was that by the end, we hated each other. We had our best fights there. The one rule we never violated: We never threw food. Otherwise, the Honorables left us alone.”

  Ya-Li wasn’t sure if Dani was creating backstory on the fly. This one carried the air of truth. Either way, he had to know more.

  When the table was cleared, and Weeb took out his pipe, Ya-Li leaned into Dani.

  “Would you care to see the house?”

  She lit up. “This place is legendary. Absolutely.”

  Weeb blew out a stream of smoke.

  “Wait a minute. We’ve known you forever, and you never gave us a tour. What’s up with that, my friend?”

  “Weeb, there’s not a room in this house you haven’t seen, including the ones where you had no business. You’d do as fine a job guiding Park and Cho around as I would. How about it? You start that way, and I’ll take Dani this way.”

  Weeb turned to the Doons.

  “C’mon, then. Fill your glasses, and let’s take a walk.”

  The Doons played along.

  Ya-Li gave Dani a selective tour. Certain parts of the house – including his parents’ suite – remained off-limits. But he did not hesitate to show Dani the ostentation of Grandmother Hoija and Great Grandfather Ban-Ho. She kept her awe in check, acting as if she were accustomed to life in the great houses. As the tour neared its end, Ya-Li realized why. He asked her point-blank.

  “Have many of your top clients brought you into their homes?”

  “Yes, but never when their immediates were close. Some like to show off and take me around like this. Others enjoy the danger of being discovered.”

  “I see. Well, I am neither. I show you the house because I want you to feel comfortable.”

  “Don’t you mean worthy?”

  “I suppose I do. I also happen to think you are, Dani.”

  They entered the great library. He closed the double doors.

  “Now that is a lot of reading,” she said, scanning the shelves.

  He pointed to the sofa.

  “What kind of books do you favor?”

  “The kind that fill empty hours.”

  “You’ll find no shortage of that in here.”

  They took a seat. Dani set her empty wine glass on the café table.

  “I’m not sure why I’m here, Ya-Li. You’ve given me a beautiful evening, but I don’t think you expect the usual business.”

  Direct. She knows when to strike. Brilliant.

  “No. I didn’t show you my suite because we’ll be returning there. Dani, did Weeb pay you for tonight?”

  “He did, although he was coy about the purpose. Still, it was my usual rate, so I accepted.”

  “He probably thought you wouldn’t come otherwise. And please, don’t confirm or deny. It’s not important. Dani, I’ve always been socially awkward, especially around women. So, if I say something inappropriate or strange, consider the source. First, am I right in assuming you researched me on the Wave after our night together in the penthouse?”

  “Mostly to catch up. You’re one of the most famous faces in The Lagos. I was honored to have you as a client.”

  “A client? Yes. Dani, have you ever wondered what you might do if you had no need for your current occupation?”

  This was the strange part. She took the question in stride.

  “I think everyone imagines what their second choice might be. Why do you ask?”

  “Life has to change. We can’t stagnate. You might have noticed, I’ve been making a few big ones in my own life.”

  “The IntraNex boards talk about little more, Ya-Li. As for me, I’m in a traditional occupation. I make good Dims. I live comfortably. I don’t bring shame to my parents.”

  “I would never suggest otherwise. But I wonder, Dani. If a new role presented itself … free of clients, more than ample wealth, and a journey that could carry you beyond your imagination … would you be inclined to consider it?”

  “That sounds like a sales pitch. What are you proposing?”

  “Nothing. Yet. I will say two things. One, I think it’s important to have a partner who walks at your side through the joy and the fire. Two, traditions are not chiseled into stone. They can be shattered. Think about the five of us tonight in the dining room. You had a wonderful time. Yes?”

  “I did.”

  “Good. Tonight is the last time I’ll pay you, but I don’t want it to be the last time I see you. How do you plan to celebrate Ascension? It’s only five days out.”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to check my client calendar.”

  “If there’s anything on it, cancel. I know you’ll be leaving a lot of Dims on the table, but I want you to be with me. Something amazing is going to happen. I want to see your eyes up close when it does.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  Ya-Li tapped a finger upon her lips.

  “Life has to change. I hope you’ll spend Ascension with me. Don’t answer now. I’ll give you my hand-comm code.”

  Ya-Li assumed many of her clients made bold promises and offered extra Dims for her services, but he was banking on the uncertainty of his offer to bring Dani Tau into his exclusive orbit.

  You know it’s true, Dani. Life has to change.

  When she left, Ya-Li restrained himself. He kissed Dani on the back of her hand and reminded her to send him a message via the code.

  “I have not met a Haansu man quite like you before,” she said. “But I have met many who play games by tempting me with their wealth and power.”

  “None ever made an offer like mine.”

  “True, but this is what concerns me. You have been hurt deeply, Ya-Li. Do you speak with a pure heart or one stricken with grief? I think I know, but I need time to consider. You’ll have my answer by tomorrow night.”

  “That’s more than fair. I’ll respect your decision.”

  As Dani disappeared inside the sedan, Ya-Li reached his own decision. She was the woman he needed, with or without love.

  He retreated to spend another hour with his friends. They talked about everything but business.

  On his way to bed, Ya-Li felt a vibration and grabbed his hand-comm with a sudden excitement. Surely, she wouldn’t have decided so quickly. What if …?

  No. It was a ping from another device.

  Ya-Li changed course, making for the library. There, he opened the vault where he kept the Splinter. Beside the glowing cube, a box the size of a ring case was buzzing. He flipped back the lid and grabbed the lighted bi-comm inside.

  He pressed the oval, two-way communicator against his left wrist until its flickering red flash turned solid white. Ya-Li tapped it, and the hologram of a familiar face rose before him. He met this man four years ago on Mangum Island when the Tarons allowed Ya-Li inside the burgeoning Alliance. The same night Ya-Li became a silent emissary for Hokkaido and showed Amayas Knight his plans for the orbital platform called the Sweeper.

  This man was the conduit to the Inventor himself.

  “Hello, Shin Wain,” Ya-Li said. “Important things are happening here. I need to meet with you before I move to the next stage.”

  24

  Mangum Island

  3 days before Ascension

  M INUTES BEFORE HE LEFT PINCHON, Ya-Li approved the official media release: Hotai price drops would begin on Ascension Day “to honor a new way forward for all Hokkis.” The statement was grandiose in its claims, implying the economic fortunes of continentals would change for the better almost overnight. Though he did not say the other seamasters would follow suit, Ya-Li claimed Hotai was “leading a revolution” in the way seamasters do business. It felt like a mic-drop moment, but Ya-Li preferred to leave the city before the inevitable blowback from the dragons.

  He traveled with Burr Sheong, who handled Scramjet nav. Weeb and Park wanted to join, but Ya-Li said they’d never be allowed inside.

  “Shin doesn’t know you, and he’s paranoid. He only meets face-to-face with Alliance emissaries. The more people who know he’s lurking about, the greater chance he’ll compromise the Inventor.”

  This was Ya-Li’s third audience with Amayas Knight’s right hand. The previous were productive but tense. Shin did not hide his view that Amayas made a mistake in appointing so young an emissary. Ya-Li thought the man was jealous; as a Hokki, Shin believed he was best suited to look after his home world. And now, for Ya-Li to be leading Hotai Counsel, a company for which Shin used to work as head of security? That must have stuck hard in Shin’s craw.

  Still, Ya-Li had no qualms about this meeting. Events were moving too fast, the fate of the Alliance too fragile, for Shin to jeopardize the greater plan. What butterflies Ya-Li felt came from returning to Mangum Island.

  This used to be the hub of Alliance activity on Hokkaido. High Cannon Collective, under Sho Parke’s leadership, brought in ambassadors from the other nine member worlds on a weekly basis. The Daselin Encounters, they were called. But that was before the night Invictus arrived from another universe, many representatives were killed, and Ryllen Jee escaped with the Splinter. Before Ryllen crossed the divide, fought a war, and created a loop which led to the massacre at the Taron estate. Before Sho Parke’s execution, along with most of the Hokki Alliance leadership.

  In the first week after the wedding, HCC silenced operations, allegedly to “reconsider our business model.” Many of its surviving executives left the island to parts unknown. Uncertainty gripped the residents, most of whom depended upon HCC for their livelihood. Ya-Li saw reports of rising Mangum emigration to other islands. “The little island with the big engine,” as Mangum was known, was quickly falling into irrelevance. That suited Ya-Li just fine. No one would pay attention when his Scramjet landed inside a large, gated residence along the north shore.

  He stood alongside Burr in the open egress and stared at the pagoda-style home, where eight armed guards flanked a long stairway into the front portico.

  “As you can see, Burr, I’ll be well protected. Rest easy.”

  “I don’t see a Hokki among them. Who are these people, sir?”

  “My contact is a powerful trade liaison. He’s someone Hokkaido will need when we reestablish interstellar commerce. He is known on most worlds. Not everyone is receptive. He’s built a small army to protect his interests. He recruits from many worlds.”

  “I don’t like it, sir.”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t be doing your job. Stay here, Burr. I’ll be back within the hour.”

  As he walked up the stairs, the guards remained at attention. No one questioned his identity. Shin was no doubt in their ears. The guards were a mixed breed: black and brown skins from Zwahili Kingdom and Boer, as well as Bolivar and Brahma.

  Chimes sang in a gentle breeze. The front door was open.

  “Remove your shoes,” Shin called out from another room as Ya-Li entered. “The mango juice is yours. It will be your only refreshment. You’ll find me seaside on the porch.”

  Ya-Li did as he was told. The glass of deep yellow juice was chilled. He took a sip. Fresh squeezed.

  The windows were also open, and the ceiling fans operated at full speed. The scene replicated Ya-Li’s last visit.

  He found Shin Wain on the sweeping porch, staring at the quiet sea in a one-piece nefud, a traditional robe among the outer islands. He held a glass of mango juice, protected by white gloves.

  “Good day, Shin. Thank you for seeing …”

  Shin waved him back. “That’s close enough, please. I can’t be too careful these days. You understand? Yes?”

  Shin pointed to a large, cushioned rocker.

  “Please, have a seat. Relax. Take in the view. Not that it’s terribly unfamiliar. The coast here is essentially the same as Pinchon’s but without the glass menagerie.”

  “I disagree,” Ya-Li said as he fell into the rocker. “The north coast of Pinchon has many beautiful locations arguably as pristine.”

  “Yes, I suppose you have a point. I haven’t spent much time there in the past few years. The visits lessen as my obligations expand outward.” He pointed to the sky. “Each planet I visit has its own set of challenges. I’ve even gotten to the point where Hokkaido feels less like my birthplace and more like another outpost in the Alliance. But I chose this path. Why am I to complain?”

  Shin appeared thinner than Ya-Li remembered. He wasn’t frail as if suffering from disease or starvation, but it also wasn’t a product of exercise and diet. Ya-Li couldn’t put his finger on it, but he also knew better than to ask. Last time, he brought up the gloves; their dialogue ended without explanation.

  “I lived here off and on for twenty years,” Shin said. “It was an indulgence, a place away from the madness of Pinchon and my family. Now, whenever I return, I discover empty cupboards and dust everywhere. Fortunately, the mango trees produce beautiful fruit. So, Ya-Li, where do you wish to begin?”

  “I’m about to move Hokkaido to a new standing in the Alliance. I’ve made enormous sacrifices to bring us this far. The change begins in three days. I have many questions about Amayas and how what’s happening outside our system will impact my plans.”

  Shin savored a long sip of juice.

  “Plans? You refer to the wholesale murders of your competition within the Alliance, your pending disruption to Hokkaido’s economy, and the evolution of the Hokki people through the Splinter. Yes?”

  “You can judge me, Shin, but my moves had the Inventor’s blessing. He appreciates a man who takes bold action.”

  “Bold, you call it? I might suggest other, less flattering words. But I will not launch into a diatribe about your choices. It would be moot. Amayas favors you. And, as he said when he gave you permission to execute this plan, ‘Nothing can stop the beginning.’”

  “That’s correct. After Ryllen Jee stole the Splinter from Invictus and created a time loop between universes, everything had to play out according to form. Amayas saw my plan as a logical knot at the end of the loop.”

  “Is that what you think, Ya-Li? You’ve developed an arrogant tone since last we spoke.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Amayas allowed your plan to move forward because he was powerless to stop it. He knew your direct counterpart across the divide – the one called Bonju – would create a path for Ryllen to return here with his Talons. Amayas sacrificed someone close – a boy named Exeter Woolsey – to years of war against the Chancellor Swarm because it had already happened. These decisions were made to oblige time rather than fight it.”

  Ya-Li set down his glass and leaned forward. He knew the science already; Bonju explained it to him years ago, long before the loop was knotted. What he didn’t realize until now was the extent to which the Inventor interjected himself.

  “Time cannot be eclipsed,” Ya-Li said. “We can’t travel into the past or the future of our own universe. Amayas knew this. But he also knew if we crossed the divide, we change our relative position to our original timeline. When Ryllen followed the Splinter to the Swarm Universe, he moved into the past relative to our timeline by more than six years. RJ was reshaping our future before any of us became aware of him.”