“Add doesn’t begin to describe it. Speaking of Ascension, I like your color choices,” he told his best friends. “Weeb, why don’t you call your stylist into my office first thing tomorrow. Pick out my color.”

  “Oh, I’m on that.”

  “If you’re game, Burr, we’ll find something nice for you. A wig, if you prefer.”

  “Very generous, sir. To be honest, I’m not a reveler.”

  “As you will.”

  Ya-Li felt a vibration in his pocket and reached for his hand-comm.

  “C’mon now, Burr,” Weeb said. “I can hook you up with a pink they’ll see five hundred meters away.”

  “Sounds horrifying, sir.”

  Ya-Li glanced at his messages and felt his heart skip. This day was improving by the minute. The message said:

  I’m all yours for Ascension. Tell me when and where. - Dani

  After two days, he began to wonder if she’d respond at all.

  He typed a response.

  Get ready for the best day of your life. Everything will change.

  He put away the hand-comm and celebrated with his friends.

  “We’ve earned it,” he told them. “This is just the beginning.”

  26

  Lau-So Fisheries Processing Plant

  2 days before Ascension

  T HE SIX-ARMED F’HELDABEASTS FELL from an open chute into a dress-and-roll sink, landing with a sloppy wet splat. Hoshi Negani, working under the alias Sela Woon, grabbed each creature, still alive, by its bulbous, pale gray head with one hand and used the other to drive a crawler knife through the neck. Hoshi tossed the severed head down a drain hole, where it would fall onto a conveyor until it reached the pulping room. It would make for quality pet food.

  Hoshi moved with quick dexterity to prep the F’heldabeast. She sliced through the thick cartilage between the arms until she had six distinct pieces, each about two feet long. She pressed the arm against the base of the sink and carved a narrow trench lengthwise, careful not to cut through. With each arm slitted, she reached for the sprayer and hit the creature’s remains with a blast of superheated water infused with ten percent bleach. She rolled each arm through her fingers and created knots precisely as taught.

  She tossed them into a rinsing tank between workstations, where they would drown in a vinegar base for exactly three minutes. The next worker would inspect for impurities, complete the dressing, and prepare the arms for packaging.

  The routine held constant throughout the nine-hour shift. Finish three F’heldabeasts, hit the blue button, watch three more fall from the chute. Grab, slash, knot. Grab, slash, knot. It was only her second day on the job, but Hoshi learned – much to her shock – why most workers on the dress-and-roll lines made a career in this place.

  Though the smell was repugnant, the repetition was uncomplicated and settling. The mind could take off in many directions after landing into a routine that required little more than muscle memory. She saw smiling faces enter the facility, and happier ones as they left. And now, with the new Hotai payroll scheme soon to commence, her co-workers were buoyed.

  Grab, slash, knot. Grab, slash, knot.

  I could disappear in this place. I could live a life in the shadows. I’ll have Dims to spend. It won’t be much, but maybe it will be enough.

  These thoughts crept in despite the realization that she wasn’t in Pinchon to have a regular life. From time to time, she caught the eye of Mosh Koo-Ti, working as Lem Drash, on the next aisle over, four sinks down. They were what was left of the team Lan Chua sent in to deal with Ya-Li Taron.

  Since they arrived, Ya-Li had become the most popular, talked about man in Pinchon – maybe the world – and any thought of holding him accountable for the wedding massacre and recovering the Splinter seemed farfetched at best. The fever dreams of lunatics. The dress-and-roll lines buzzed about when the raises would kick in and what they’d do with their extra Dims. No one seemed to question the economics or care that their hours might increase to match the soaring demand of cheaper products. If Ya-Li entered the building now, all work would stop long enough to shower him with applause.

  Would it be so bad if the order never came through? If their contacts within Green Sun couldn’t set up a time and place? Would it be so bad if they took their chances and hoped for the best?

  Her mind was going this way and that when a tap on her shoulder gave Hoshi a start.

  “You,” a skinny man in a white managerial uniform said. “What is your name?”

  “Sela Woon, sir.”

  He looked at his tablet.

  “Yes, this is what it says. Your second day. Claim to be Huryan?”

  “I am, sir. I am sponsored by Solis Quin at the Offworld Employment Commission.”

  “Yes, yes. We get many of your types. They do not last. I do not think you will last. I have problems with your application. You will follow me to my office.”

  Cudfrucker. What do I do now?

  She held up her crawler knife.

  “Sir, I have not finished my batch. What should I …?”

  He grimaced, looked around, and snapped his fingers at a worker in the aisle behind Hoshi.

  “You. Is your sink empty?”

  “It is, sir,” a fortyish woman said.

  “Fine. You finish for Miss Woon.” He turned to Hoshi. “Leave your knife. Follow me.”

  She complied, trailing the man a hundred meters to the end of the vast lines. There, she discarded her safety gloves in a bin and followed him up a flight of stairs. She passed three offices, none of which were much bigger than cubicles. Upon rounding a bend, she was stunned to see Mosh waiting outside an office.

  “You two,” the man said. “In here.”

  He fell in behind a tiny desk filled with a stack of papers, a tea dispensary, and a framed portrait of a young woman. He ordered them to sit.

  “I am Harin-Sho, your payroll officer. Under normal circumstance, you would never be in this office. I like my days without disruption. You two are a disruption.”

  “Why, sir?” Mosh asked. “What have we done?”

  “It is what you have not done, Lem Drash. You did not complete the ATP form in your application package.”

  He slipped two copies across his desk.

  “We cannot send your Dims to a bank without the Automated Transfer of Payment form.”

  Hoshi’s heartbeat moderated. So that’s all?

  “Sir,” she said. “Our sponsor said we will receive cheque bars for the first fifty days of employment.”

  “Ah, yes. Because you are definitely Huryan and have no standing account in Pinchon. Yes?”

  “Correct, sir. We arrived on the ferry just this week.”

  “You did. I have your transit papers. I find them suspicious. I don’t like suspicious workers. I don’t like Hotai to pay suspicious workers. And since we’ll soon receive enormous raises, I would be derelict in my job to allow suspicious workers to feed on Hotai’s generosity.”

  Harin-Sho slipped a cup under the tea dispenser. Hot, golden liquid poured out. He added a sugar cube inside and stirred.

  “What do you need from us, sir?” Hoshi said.

  He sipped and appeared instantly refreshed.

  “Answers,” he said. “Why are you posing as Huryans?”

  Hoshi put on her most indignant face. She glared at Mosh to make sure he appeared equally stunned. He acted the part.

  “Sir, we are Huryan born, both of us. You can check our biographies. We came here for a new start and …”

  “Yes, yes. The same story. A new start. Blah, blah. I don’t care if you worked in the mud or the marshes. I know you’re not Huryan. Every Huryan immigrant has calloused and scarred hands. Yours are too delicate and pink. The fools at Customs should have seen this.”

  “That is not proof, sir,” Mosh said. “I think it is a racist stereotype.”

  “Racist? Stupid claim, Lem Drash. Live here, live there, it’s all the same. Our ancestors came from the same land on Earth.”

  “What can we do,” Hoshi said, “to prove who we are?”

  “Ah, there is the first smart thing you have said. I am going to give each of you a blue card. There is one question you must answer. Do this correctly, and there will be no more trouble for you. Yes?”

  He slipped two cards, each upside down, to the front of his desk, accompanied by a pen. It made no sense to Hoshi until she turned it over and read the question. She froze.

  The last words she ever imagined:

  How many rays does the sun shine?

  She looked up. Harin-Sho rested his chin upon his folded hands, his stare piercing yet revealing of nothing.

  She glanced at Mosh, who held the pen between twitchy fingers. She caught his eye and nodded.

  Hoshi wrote her answer.

  57.

  She handed back the card, as did Mosh. Harin-Sho studied the response with a pensive stare then fell back into his chair.

  Fifty-seven. The number of islands in The Lagos. Also the number of red rays shining from the Green Sun tattooed on their chests.

  “I had to be sure,” Harin-Sho said. “I still do not see how Customs let you through. You are obviously Hokki.”

  “You’re our contact?” Hoshi said.

  “Don’t look shocked. We didn’t all join up as teenagers. I knew Lan Chua when you two were toddlers. To business, please. You should not be away from the line for long. Empty sinks draw suspicious eyes. So, you are going after a formidable target?”

  “Yes. That’s the plan, assuming there’s any chance we can get close to him.”

  “Not much of one. The last time he was seen in public, a sniper took a shot at him and almost finished the deed. He’s surrounded by an army now. A wise Hokki would walk away and hide. Only those with visions of suicide and headlines might think different. Why are we to believe you two can accomplish the impossible?”

  “We can’t without help.”

  Mosh added: “The help has to come from inside.”

  “Agree on both counts. Fortunately, you’re in luck. Before I tell you how, I must ask a few questions. One, can you prove it’s true? Did Ya-Li Taron order the killings at his own wedding?”

  Hoshi gulped. “Prove? Not with any evidence we have on hand. But we know it’s true because we heard a confession.”

  “Confession? What? From the man himself?”

  “No. We’ve never met him. But we heard from the man who led the attack. You know of Ryllen Jee?”

  Harin-Sho’s eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

  “Everyone knows about him. Was he a brother of yours in the fight?”

  “We knew him for a while,” Mosh said. “It was enough, I’ll tell you.”

  “Explain.”

  “He told us – and some others – that Ya-Li Taron ordered the massacre. He told Ryllen and his soldiers who to kill.”

  “When did he say this? Do you have it recorded?”

  Hoshi didn’t want to dive too deep into the weeds. Harin-Sho didn’t need to know the particulars about what happened at Artemis Station or on Scylla. He didn’t need to know about Ryllen’s betrayal or exile to Huryo. And the Splinter?

  “No,” she told Harin-Sho. “We don’t have a recording, and the other witnesses are outside the system. I doubt they’ll be returning soon.”

  “Outside the system? What? Where? I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to. All that matters is this: We need access to Ya-Li Taron. We’ll take care of him, but not at first. There’s something we need to recover from him as well. Something he … stole. I can’t explain it here without taking too long to draw suspicion on the line. Is there a way to get close to him?”

  “Hmm. You are a strange pair. You both did your duty for the fight?”

  It was code for “did you kill for Green Sun?” They nodded.

  “Then perhaps you will have the nerve. But I must ask: If you have heard Ryllen Jee’s confession, why not go to the KumTaan instead? If they begin an investigation, doubts will be raised about Taron. Others might come forward.”

  “Like you said before, Ya-Li Taron is the most popular man around. Who will believe it, after how he was almost assassinated?”

  “Not a one. Besides, the KumTaan’s hunger for revenge is gone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ah. You have been on the line, so you have not heard the news.” He grabbed his tablet and swiped through a few screens. He turned it toward them. “Official government release. They found him.”

  The images and the headlines stunned Hoshi.

  TERRORIST RYLLEN JEE DEAD

  MURDERER OF KUMTAAN, TARONS, AND SYUNGS

  KILLED IN FIRE ON HURYO

  HUMAN REMAINS VERIFIED

  All manner of questions swirled at the forefront, but Hoshi’s initial response was that this could not be possible. Ryllen was an immortal. He crossed universes. Fought a war. Helped dig Hoshi and many others out of a permanent grave beneath Y-14. And now he dies in the swamps of Huryo? Just like that?

  “Enemy Number One, they called him,” Harin-Sho said. “I wish I’d been there. I would have set him on fire myself.”

  “This seems …” Hoshi had no words.

  “Convenient is the word you’re looking for,” he said. “Your only witness dead and gone. Did you consort with him on Huryo?”

  “What?” Mosh perked up. “No. Absolutely not. We … we had no idea he was there. I mean, we knew many Green Sun were hiding out, but … are they sure he’s dead?”

  “Says here he was cornered by mercenaries working for the KumTaan. There was a fight and then a fire. The monster is dead. I have many questions for you, but I will save them. Do you see this?” He lifted the framed photo of a young woman.

  “My sister, Prea. She joined the KumTaan a year ago. The night before the wedding, she said she would be going out on a special mission but could say no more. She was one of the contingent at the Taron estate. The monster electrocuted her and forty-nine of her brothers and sisters. She never knew I owed allegiance to Lan Chua and the fight. I am glad we never faced each other as enemies. Now, I have justice for Prea. This leaves me with a quandary.

  “Do I wish to help you further? If the President of Hotai ordered the massacre, he must be held accountable. But he did not murder Prea himself, and we have no direct evidence to his role. Do you wish to proceed with this foolish plan?”

  All she had to do was say no. Mosh wouldn’t protest. She saw the hesitation in his eyes. They could stay in the job, live in the shadows, wait for the danger to pass. One day, they could walk the city without looking over their shoulders. It would have been so easy …

  “We risked our lives to do this job,” she said. “It’s about more than Ya-Li Taron. If you have a contact who can get us inside, lead us to him. Please.”

  Harin-Sho set down the photo and gave his sister a wistful smile.

  “My youngest brother will not be satisfied with Ryllen Jee’s death. He has taken it harder than anyone, even our Honorable parents. He also works security at the headquarters of Hotai Counsel. He is a junior officer. He rotates between the parking lodge and the Horseshoe. I don’t know if he can get you to the sixtieth floor, but he can get you inside the building. I give you a last chance to back out. After I meet with him and explain your circumstance, we will be committed. At that point, you will fulfill your mission, or the OEC will deport you. You’ll live out your days in the swamps of Huryo.”

  Hoshi saw the words forming behind Mosh’s lips. She made sure to cut them off.

  “Speak to your brother,” she said. “We’ll be ready.”

  27

  Y A-LI DIDN’T BELIEVE THE OFFICIAL report. Now, as he sat in his sixtieth-floor office with Jin Kloon, Commander of the KumTaan, nothing he was told made it seem any more real – even though the truth led one way.

  “So, you’re saying the fire left that structure in ashes. But you have proof Ryllen Jee was inside it at the time. How?”

  Kloon said, “The body was charred beyond recognition, yes, and found floating in the water. But we have blood samples, genetic pulls, and um …” He hesitated. “His other remains.”

  “Other remains? What do you mean?”

  “He defecated in the pond. I’m sure the water samples – at least drawn from beneath the surface – will also link his urine to his genetic profile. He was there for many days.”

  “You have witnesses?”

  “The local constabulary and a pair of agents from the Justice General’s office in Quanteel interviewed the Scroll in charge of that pond as well as the man’s apprentice. They confirmed his presence, and that he was there upon nightfall before the fire.”

  “But they didn’t actually witness the fire?”

  “No.”

  “Is there no way he could have escaped?”

  “It would have taken a man of remarkable strength to punch through the casing above the perimeter rack. The single prisoner release hatch could only be operated from outside the structure.”

  “Then how do we know this Scroll or his apprentice didn’t aid Ryllen? I saw what he was capable of at my wedding. I believe he could make anyone do his bidding.”

  Kloon sighed with a touch of obvious impatience.

  “I understand your fear, President Taron, but these two are above reproach. The Scroll profession and the ponds – however inhumane we might consider them – are held in high esteem on Huryo. We have to trust the judgment of the Justice General’s office.”

  “Then can you at least tell me how he ended up in one of those ponds? And are there any suspects in the fire?”

  “Unfortunately, the Scroll is legally bound to silence in the matter of his contractor. However, he insists the crimes Ryllen was being punished for were valid. We will not argue that point. The man deserved a brutal death. I can think of few things worse than fire.”

  “Suspects?”

  “That will be a matter for the JG’s office to pursue. My own theory? Locals learned his identity and didn’t want the attention. Corvaal’s Bay is an isolated collection of villages. Very peaceful. They took matters into their own hands.”