“You’re the only one we can talk to. The Talons don’t understand about Hokkaido. The others – Kara, Chi, Ham – they never fought for The Lagos like we did. You were one of us. You …”

  “I was never one of you, Po. I’m not a Hokki. I did it for Kai.”

  “You always thought people were against you because you were born off world. That’s not true, RJ. Every Green Sun I knew admired how you sacrificed for a cause that wasn’t even yours.”

  “What do you lot want?”

  “We’re thinking of going home after they restart Scylla. Some of the other Green Sun are thinking the same.”

  “Fine. Tell the Admiral. Why bother me?”

  Myra jumped in. “We won’t have a life if we go back. Our names were on the KumTaan arrest orders when we escaped. We’ll have to hide in the shadows, probably even live on the continent. But we want to make a difference somehow. RJ, you lived like that for a year after Ronin Swallows. What’s your secret?”

  “Aside from knowing I’d come back when I died? I didn’t have a secret. I used people. I made them think I cared. If they needed my body, I gave it to them. If I thought they were a threat, I killed them. That’s what I did best. You shouldn’t be coming to me for shit. And you’ll never make a difference on Hokkaido.”

  “Why?”

  “What’s going on there is too big.”

  “The Splinter Alliance. We know. We’ve seen most of the names. They were on the ship’s system logs. People like Green Sun can form a resistance. Don’t you think?”

  “You two? You’ll be dead in a week. Now slag off. I’m eating.”

  Ryllen didn’t mind being an ass. If his attitude pushed them away, all the better. They’d face stronger odds scrounging for morsels in the New Seoul underground than they’d have out here in space.

  “I’m sorry about Exeter,” said Myra. “Don’t lose hope.”

  They took their trays and retreated to the galley’s far corner.

  Was it empathy or sympathy behind her words? Which one did he hate more?

  The Hokkis seemed like little people since he returned. They were timid and reactionary. They lacked vision. The strongest among them were mere wordsmiths who used their tongue to cover for their inadequacies. Fighting the Swarm put many things into perspective, the greatest being Green Sun’s ridiculous terror campaign against immos. Hokkis of The Lagos were, in Ryllen’s estimation, the least appreciative people of the blessings given to them. Before the Splinter, he might have done anything to preserve Hokkaido from threats foreign or internal. Now? Maybe they deserved to experience some fire from the skies. Was a little suffering so terrible?

  Ryllen said nothing on the way out. He suspected they would report back to the other Green Sun to say he was “lost” or “dangerous.” They’d say his demotion in the chain of command was a smart move. They’d also say how they’d be better off light-years away, fighting a different battle.

  As if this would change anything.

  He returned to his duties. He had successfully “scrubbed” three-quarters of the assigned sector. The remainder required at least nine more hours, if he was thorough.

  Ryllen intended to leave no square centimeter unnoticed.

  This diligence bore unexpected fruit three hours into the shift.

  He climbed to level two of a starboard service hatch perpendicular to the central causeway. He entered a junction where the core energy stream connected stern to bow. The modest tube allowed for reasonable movement. He crawled rather than shimmied.

  Eight service panels extended the length of the Connector Bridge, which meant he was in charge of validating four. These were the panels considered most at threat since they would have been easier targets for sabotage. Each panel’s seal slid back and out of sight with a whoosh, as if the inside was depressurizing. Ryllen grabbed his phasic tool, which resembled a spanner but equipped with several bristles for holographic insertion. The tool grabbed hold of mounts on the internal relay and tested each part to verify its stability and full compliance to the original design. The energy tube glowed a hazy pink, as if the hour after sunset. Nothing flowed through it, all power coming from the emergency system.

  That’s where he found it.

  Someone less attentive to detail, in more of a rush, might have missed it. Even the phasic driver did not note the inconsistency.

  On the third of four panels, just as Ryllen prepared to sign off and move on, he saw a lump in the shadowed tube. He looked a second time. A third.

  No. It wasn’t inside the tube. It was beneath and behind.

  Ryllen reached. The first try brought his fingertips to within a millimeter. On the second try, he pushed as much of his head and torso as he could muster inside the panel. His gloved right hand grabbed hold.

  The black device fit into his palm. Ovoid with a flat bottom. A red lighted strip raced along the bottom edge. He held it to his ear. Nothing. No whirrs. No hum. But a magnetic bar latched it to the tube. He analyzed it with the phasic tool. Ryllen didn’t need the more elaborate scanner projecting from his comm stack.

  He saw similar devices in the war and used modified versions to destabilize perimeter defenses before an attack.

  Not a grenade. Worse.

  This was a weapon no one anticipated. It rested dormant until a specific change in its environment triggered an instant response.

  It made sense now. These assholes must have placed one in the stasis tube beneath Artemis. Its trigger? Some poor fool breaking the tube seal. Did the same bastard who killed Lucas, June, and two Hokkis also plant this device? Did he care if he was still around to see his handiwork? Or was it about spending a lifetime being able to brag about the deception?

  Ryllen closed the panel and sealed it with the tool.

  He submitted his report.

  “Port 7S scrubbed. Moving on.”

  He slipped the device into a sleeve on his armor and crawled ahead.

  It wasn’t hard to imagine their plan. Once the new owners of Scylla restarted her, the core energy would flow from the engine array. Within seconds, it would pass the device. The heat surge was the trigger. The initial explosion would cause a calamitous sequence, bursting the seals on the nuclear ignition bells.

  A star would be born amidships. The disaster would cascade in both directions. Scylla would forever orbit Y-14 in pieces.

  He held the image in his mind for the next four days. His strategy did not change: Silence and compliance. Now came the morning of the “big day” everyone spoke of across the comm stack. Engine restart might happen within hours.

  Ryllen made his choice.

  First, he wanted them to know why he did it.

  He waited until Ham approached. He unholstered his pistol, which he allowed to dangle in his right hand. He rested his left hand over the sleeve alongside his abdomen. The device was a gentle lump.

  “I know what you’re trying to do to me, Ham,” he said. “I told you I’d kill you first.”

  Did the Admiral fear him? If not, wasn’t it about damn time?

  “RJ, I am not treading this ground with you again. If you plan to kill your commanding officer, do it. If not, I have pressing concerns.”

  Ham started forward. Ryllen let him pass.

  “You said you’d look out for me, but you never did.”

  Ryllen stuck to his choice.

  42

  T HE WINDOWS BORE GOOD NEWS. Every metric Kara hoped to see verified that the plan was on schedule. She and Cando double-checked the numbers, but there was no doubt. The last vestiges of Carbedyne backslop were drained and the filter add-on they built into the engine array appeared to counter the Inventor’s intentional design oversight.

  These factors did not ensure a smooth restart but represented a marker beyond Kara’s imagination: She modified a starship engine without causing harm. She took a moment to appreciate the success and think back to Nantou Global. How impressed would her engineering team have been? Would Alli Parnish and Geo Laan have reacted with the same fascination they gave to her idea to miniaturize shimmer tunnels?

  “It’s amazing, Cando. When I left Hokkaido, my first thought was that I made a horrible mistake.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I felt inadequate. More than I ever have. Who was I to think I’d be of use to this crew?”

  “And now?”

  “I can’t imagine being anywhere else. How would you people make it without me?”

  They shared a laugh from swivels in Engineering Control, which looked out over the array from a high platform. A row of plates tapped into each of the ship’s core systems and relayed critical data.

  “The best outcomes,” Cando said, “are those we never see coming. I think I was a better soldier because I never intended to be one. I wasn’t burdened with concept or theory. I didn’t overthink it. All I had working for me was good, old survival instinct.”

  “It’s funny you say that. If I was back at Nantou and given the plans for Scylla, I never would have seen the defect in the engine design.”

  “Because you couldn’t have wrapped your head around the idea of intentional hidden flaws. Circumstance forced your mind’s eye to perceive a new reality.”

  “Survival instinct helped.”

  “A useful tool, if you know how to channel it. Which you did, Kara. I think we should party when Scylla is fully operational. There will be many toasts, but yours will be first.”

  A party? The idea seemed ludicrous. And yet, maybe Cando was right. Hadn’t they earned some small reward for what they overcame? She wondered if the Talons ever found time to celebrate victory in battle. Cando said soldiers needed time between fighting to rediscover their humanity. Wasn’t a party just such an opportunity?

  The door at the base of Engineering Control slid open. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  “The Admiral’s here. Ready to brief him?”

  Cando shrugged with casual indifference.

  “The honor goes to you, Kara. I’m in the second chair.”

  She felt buoyant, a sure sign all was too good to be believed.

  Ham did not ascend the stairs.

  He stood at the base, his eyes focused on no particular target. In the seconds she had to wonder what he was doing, Kara thought he looked like someone waiting for another to catch up.

  Ryllen.

  The braided one followed through the door, pistol aimed in one hand, and a black, egg-shaped object resting in his open left palm.

  “Don’t contact anyone else,” Ryllen shouted as the door closed. “This is between us. If anyone tries to enter, I’ll kill the Admiral first. This thing in my hand? This took out the stasis tube. If I use it, nobody leaves here.”

  Cando reached for his weapon.

  “What are you doing, Colonel?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “A mutiny.”

  “There’s already been one of those. I’m here to set things right.” He told Ham to start up the stairs. “Don’t say a word, Ham. All I ever did was listen to you.”

  It was playing out like her paranoia predicted. Every chill she experienced in Ryllen’s presence warned her. Beneath the veneer of a warrior who loved with a passion, he was the creature who leaped onto her wedding stage and slaughtered an old man. She relied too heavily on the optimism of others to hope Ryllen would rediscovery his humanity.

  “I know you’re reaching, Major,” Ryllen said as he ascended. “You might catch me between the eyes, but it won’t be fast enough to save Ham. And I’ll wake up in ten minutes, give or take.”

  Cando pushed in close to Kara.

  “Stand behind me. Whatever his grievance, it has nothing to do with you.”

  “Don’t be sure, Cando.”

  He holstered his weapon and waited. Ham arrived with stiff shoulders and a contemplative face. Kara sensed he was going through his usual routine of considering every permutation.

  “To them,” Ryllen said, gesturing with his weapon. Ham followed suit, standing abreast of the other two. Ryllen had the stage.

  “Colonel, you …” Cando started.

  “Shut up, Cando. I’m not a colonel, and you know it. I gave myself the title because I thought I deserved it. The rest of you went along because … what was the harm? As long as I got us out of the muck and sacrificed myself a few times, I was about the best thing you had going. A real colonel doesn’t pull this shit. Right, Ham?”

  The Admiral sighed. “Any man who’s been through your struggle, might stand where you are now.”

  “I’m not any man. I was born in a lab and nobody can kill me, no matter how often they try.”

  “You’re human, RJ. Your genetic variant isn’t enough to classify you in a different species. But if you go through with this – whatever this is – you will surely be remembered as inhuman.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Cando said.

  Yet Kara saw the truth in those resolute eyes: He did mean it. He wasn’t fighting anymore. He had surrendered to his worst impulses.

  “I have never known you to turn against people who cared about you,” Ham said. “Enlighten us, RJ. What has brought you here? I think this has to be about more than Exeter.”

  “You don’t get to talk about X. You knew what he meant to me.” He turned to Cando. “You knew better than Ham. I think that’s why you never put up a fight. You were looking for an excuse. All of you were. Lucas and June gave you the perfect opening.”

  “That is sick and unfair,” Cando said. “We knew it wasn’t Exeter’s fault. The Admiral was trying to buy time. He had a good plan, but sometimes plans don’t go as we expect.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a boy.”

  “Then behave like a man,” Ham said. “Put your weapon away and air your grievances. Threatening us with a weapon in each hand does not lend itself to credibility.”

  “Oh? And what is your credibility? A string of pretty words to convince every fool that Hamilton Cortez knows best? That’s what you do. Patronize, condescend, pontificate. Those are nice words. Yes? I’d come with a longer list if I had the time or gave a shit.”

  “Fair enough, RJ. Keep your weapons and air your grievances.”

  Ryllen took a moment and set his eyes upon each individual on the platform. Kara wondered if the hesitation meant Ham had called his bluff. How could he possibly justify this betrayal?

  “I don’t need to talk. It’s you three. You gave me no choice.”

  “Everything is a choice, RJ.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Sometimes a man walks into a corner and there’s no turning around. The only way out is forward.”

  “Interesting metaphor. Might we explore how you came to find yourself in the corner?”

  “You’re smart people. How do you think?”

  Kara stepped out from behind Cando.

  “You blame us. Why?”

  “You know, Kara. Just say it.”

  “I don’t and I can’t. But here’s something I remember. When I asked why you wanted me on this mission, you said we need thoughtful people who know when to talk you down from doing something stupid. Is this why we’re here? For you to do something stupid and me save you from it?”

  “I remember. It was a sales pitch. I wanted you to feel good after what happened at the wedding.”

  “You also knew I was screwed if I stayed in Pinchon.”

  “Could be. I was feeling very good that day. The mission went well. To be honest, you weren’t near the top of my list.”

  His tone became more vindictive, but Kara also felt it a bit forced.

  “Oh, yeah, Ryllen? You were the head butcher at my wedding, so who was more important?”

  “You won’t understand. Rich coits like you never do.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t throw classist bullshit at me. If the Jees weren’t pushed out by refinery, we’d have been neighbors.”

  Cando grabbed her hand. “Kara, I think that’s enough.”

  “Not even close. C’mon, Ryllen. Did you tell your loyal Talons about how you really came to be with them? Do they know about the Jees?”

  She saw it. A twitch in the brow perhaps. A nerve tweaked.

  “You were adopted by one of the richest families in Haansu. They took a hit during refinery. Your father died. And after a few years, your mother decided she had enough of you. She didn’t care for how you were hanging about with terrorists. Probably feared for the other children. Gave you the boot. After that, you started making choices. Lots of choices. Pretty much all of them bad.”

  “I wouldn’t be here,” Ryllen said, “if you never came into Ham’s life. Maybe you didn’t put me in this corner, but you shoved me in the right direction. You’re the guiltiest of all.”

  “You don’t believe that bullshit, Ryllen. I saw you three times before my wedding. Three times. Our paths intersected, but you’re a monster because you chose to be. You had six years in another universe. From what I hear, you were damn good at war. The best. Maybe if you had made one less bad choice, you’d still be fighting the Chancellor Swarm. I think you’d be happy. The great Colonel Jee, beloved by his unit, leading them to victory after victory. It’s always about choices, Ryllen. You lost your way. You lost Exeter. You lost your command. You lost your family. You lost this. You lost that. Don’t you dare blame me for the first inch of it.”

  Cando took charge of the moment, slipping in front of Kara, who realized she was probably about one more insult away from taking a blast to the chest.

  “Enough, RJ,” the Major said. “I’m going to beg you now to drop your pistol and hand over the explosive. We will help you through this.”

  “I don’t want help.”

  “You need it.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want it. Does anything else matter?”

  “You were always the strongest of us, RJ. I never …”

  “Thought what, Cando? That I’d have a breakdown and go psychotic? You’d be wrong. This isn’t a breakdown. This is me seeing clearly for the first time in years. I’m going to finish this.”

  “Finish what?”

  “Scylla will never leave here.”

  Ryllen slid over toward the holowindows.