Ya-Li was right. They were talking about her. Honored Gran would be proud.

  This Kohlna has the sharpest teeth!

  She acknowledged congratulations as she strol ed the hal . The night

  did not need to end.

  As the crowd thinned, with many moving down to the dance floor, Kara spied an unexpected figure staring back. He was leaning against a column, his eyes fixated.

  Lang nodded, his fingers signaling he wanted to speak.

  He had not initiated a conversation with her since the day he threatened to kil Chi-Qua. Yet Kara felt no hesitation to join him.

  “Congratulations, Sister,” he said, his voice soft and conciliatory.

  “You’re moving up now, like a real Syung. I’m proud of you.”

  The victories piled on, and Kara was speechless.

  “I don’t … Lang, it’s been so long.”

  “It has, and I’m the only one to blame. Kara, I’ve said things to you … not just that one time, but al my life. I want you to know two things. One, I never meant it. Especial y not what I said about Chi-Qua. I’d never hurt her. Two, I always wanted you to succeed.

  I knew you were meant for more than Marketing, but I didn’t think you were strong enough. You are. You showed everyone. A little secret: You put Mother and Father in their place in a way Dae and me never could. We don’t have half your courage.”

  Of al that Kara dreamed, this moment seemed most unlikely.

  She wanted to ask if he was drunk; better not to spoil the vibe.

  “You have no idea how that much means, Lang. I’m sorry what I did to you. I …”

  “No, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be. I almost destroyed us. This family needs a soldier. It’s the only way we survive.”

  “Soldier? Lang, I think Syung-Low wil do just fine for itself.”

  Lang dropped his smile and scanned the room. He brought her close and sank his voice.

  “There’s a war coming. Wars need soldiers.”

  “A war. Wait, what?”

  “I tried to look away. I thought the mahali might help. It did for a while. But then they made me look closer. I was going to be their man for the future. Can you believe that? Me. The drug dealer.”

  “Lang, what are you on about?”

  “I’m just very glad you’re strong, Kara. They’l need you.”

  “Who? For what?”

  “It’s not going to end wel . Kara, they’re going to burn it al .”

  “Burn …? Lang, have you taken something? Have you …?”

  He hugged her tight.

  “Focus on engineering. Keep a close eye. Be a soldier.”

  When he stepped back, Lang wiped away his tears and finished the last of his wine.

  “Go on, Kara. Have some fun. We’l speak again. I promise.”

  He set down his glass and staggered away without looking back.

  Her eyes followed Lang down a long corridor until he disappeared around a bend.

  Kara Syung never saw her brother again.

  Two days later, his body washed up on a north coast beach one hundred meters from where Kara celebrated her sixteenth birthday.

  Authorities found no signs of foul play.

  Bottomless grief consumed the Syung estate for weeks. The desolation in her parents’ eyes made clear: They never saw it coming, nor did they understand why. Dae, who spent his life coveting every moment at his dear brother’s side, lapsed into days of isolation. When sobbing ended and tears dried, the family searched for answers. They never said the word aloud, though everyone surely thought it. But no Syung ever committed suicide, and no Syung ever would.

  For her part, Kara held tight to that final moment with Lang, even keeping it from Chi-Qua.

  He was broken. He was terrified. And in the end, he loved her enough to warn her.

  Kara wrote down the conversation exactly as she remembered it and stored his words where no one might find them. Just as he asked, she kept her eyes open. She made engineering her life. She searched for answers when she did not know the questions.

  Until one day, the war did in fact begin.

  RYLLEN JEE

  We honor the bold and daring, those who look Death in the face and do not blink. We write poems about them. We build monuments and name cities in tribute. On occasion, the revered are seen in a new light by fresh eyes, and those once praised are now pil oried and swept clean from history. Ryl en Jee fits neither of these categories, but I wonder where he would rate if he were remembered at al .

  Those who know his name are split in their assessment. Some say his story was a tragedy; others suggest it was the most beautiful ending possible for a complicated man. What little I knew of Ryl en – especial y regarding his involvement in the War of Nine – repulsed me. Such cal ous disregard for life struck me as irredeemable.

  However, an historian must be wil ing to delve beneath the surface features of our past. Since Ryl en’s story began alongside Kara Syung’s, I felt an obligation to expand my interviews while visiting The Lagos. Additional examination of previously classified archival data from the former Unification Guard headquarters on Earth and the data stream reservoir on Aeterna complemented my interviews.

  The fol owing stories represent my interpretation of a smal portion of Ryl en Jee’s entry into manhood.

  - Dr. Orson Baatch, SY 5430

  1

  Idiot of The Lagos

  Standard Year 5362

  othing rivaled Ascension, and no city on Hokkaido N celebrated it like Pinchon. Nature’s most spectacular art stopped the city every seven hundred thirty-three standard days. Ascension’s unparalleled beauty filled the untainted night sky for twelve minutes. Out here in the middle of the ocean, more than two thousand kilometers from the continent, the island city enjoyed the event’s maximum impact.

  Citizens prepared for months, from the wealthy northern enclaves in the Haansu District, to the fresh air markets of Lihoni Way, to the corporate clusters of the seamasters, to the blue-light districts of Zozo and Umkau. At the Port of Pinchon, ships’ captains arranged communal festivities that temporarily silenced cargo drones and Kohlna meat

  processors to offload thousands of rival crews who celebrated together on the mile-long isthmus cal ed the Point of the Redeemer.

  Some Hokki found religion in this event; a message sent from the Divine, they said, to remind everyone of a greater journey yet unfulfil ed. For most, however, Ascension was a product of light, shadow, and chemical reactions. It was the moon, the rings, and the sun joining forces to paint a masterpiece. No more, no less.

  Either way, Ascension was a gorgeous diversion from the uncertainty no one wished to discuss. Though it did not pass their lips, it never escaped their eyes. The night sky was uncluttered, free of the miles-long Ark Carriers that once orbited Hokkaido for centuries like smal moons. Tonight’s Ascension would be only the second since the Carriers returned to Earth when their empire collapsed, giving Hokkaido independence it soon lamented.

  None of these matters of global and cultural importance bothered Ryllen Jee, whose only immediate concern involved dodging traffic in the UpWay without drawing the attention of the FDs. He ran afoul of a Forsythe Drone once before when he was speeding; anal buggers, they were. An FD almost crashed his rifter when it tried to stal him inside a tractor beam.

  He wanted to file a formal complaint with Island Transport Discipline, but his mother reminded him why ITD would ignore him.

  “I don’t have a violation to my name,” he insisted.

  “Your name is al they need,” his mother said. “They’ve not had enough time to forgive. One day, Ryllen, they wil no longer hold the House of Jee against you.”

  “Huh. How long until one day?”

  Muna Lin Jee, a tiny woman who wore only black and blue, looked away, her wandering eyes telegraphing the response Ryl en did not want to hear.

  “In time, the current generation of elders who determine doctrine wil die off. When the next generation ascends, they wil bring new doctrine. They wil cal upon forgiveness of past sins, and our family wil be rehabilitated. This is how it’s always been, Ryllen. I have lived it. So did your father and his ancestors.”

  The explanation wasn’t good enough.

  “I don’t deserve this,” he said. “I’m not a Jee by blood. Why should I be punished because Father was a collaborator?”

  Muna Lin knotted her fingers, the long nails piercing skin, drawing blood. She turned her back to Ryllen.

  “You cannot think of one moment where your Father treated you as any less than a son,” she said, her voice haggard. “Did he ever make you feel beneath your sisters or your brother, though you were not their blood?”

  “I can think of a thousand times, but you were never there. He was careful, that way.”

  “Then I am sorry, Ryl en, but there’s nothing you can do. Pay the fines and stay between the narrows until time forgives. You can blame your father for your misery, but you cannot push back against those who determine doctrine.”

  That’s how Ryllen celebrated his sixteenth birthday.

  It was also one of the final days he spent in his mother’s suite.

  Now, four months later, as the leading edge of the Kye-Do rings peered over the ocean’s western horizon and the boiling orange sun fel in the east, less than an hour from setting, Ryllen Jee battled traffic with abandon. He disregarded his mother’s warning and looked for a strategic opening in the tight, regulated lanes of the UpWay.

  His rifter was a two-seater, its bubble feature and AI guidance web the product of his own modifications. He spent a month’s income on a phasic driver capable of welding the structural flaws that almost brought him down in his last encounter with an FD. He programmed an il egal exemption into the guidance web to detect FD signatures as wel as an OutPass notifier in case he needed to make a quick escape onto the flat lanes of the city’s main boulevards. Tiny personal vehicles like his were al owed to intermingle at ground level with the traditional carriages and motorized rickshaws. FDs were not.

  Ryllen was running late, and the UpWay was far more congested than he anticipated. Hundreds of blue Carbedyne nacel es, the power source for these vehicles, extended for kilometers in both directions.

  Why al the limos? The six-seat sedans? The personal Scrams? He expected the lanes to be clear as evening neared, everyone settling in for an early dine ahead of the big moment.

  He studied his guidance web and tried to map the fastest route to OutPass 14, stil three kilometers ahead. Frustrated by what he saw, Ryllen flipped his left wrist and glanced at the bicomm melded to his skin. He wanted to make the cal ; if Kai knew he’d be late, perhaps his roommate would stal for time.

  Or maybe he’s tired of making excuses for me, Ryllen thought.

  Cud! If I miss this introduction, I’m as good as Kohlna feed.

  His fear wasn’t far from the truth. Ryllen was barely employable.

  The family name didn’t help, but four months spent trying to work outside the safety net of his household produced a handful of disgusting, short-term gigs usual y reserved for immos – the desperate il egals from the continent who tried to forge lives in the shadows of Pinchon. Everything else he owed to Kai Durin, who gave him a soft bed and two meals rent-free and asked for nothing beyond a brief, warm kiss each morning.

  Kai was generous. Kai was suave. But Kai had an agenda, like anyone with a working brain. Ryl en knew Kai’s endgame. He sensed it every time Kai made him dinner. He heard the implication each time his eighteen-year-old roommate mentioned “special opportunities” or “the way without judgment.” Only a week ago, when Ryllen put the pieces together, did Kai almost reveal his hand.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Ryllen said over breakfast of Kohlna cakes and spiced cabbage. “You were on the bicomm. I heard you mention Lan Chua.”

  Kai folded his fish cake into the stringy cabbage, his permanently embedded half-smile giving away nothing.

  “Everyone knows Lan Chua. Powerful man.”

  Ryllen knew al too wel . “Father warned me about him once, during the reprisals. Father died a few days after.”

  “Are you suggesting …?”

  “No, but they were rivals at Nantou. I don’t think they got along, even before independence. But I hear things about Lan Chua.”

  “Such as?”

  “That maybe he’s more than Executive Chairman of Discipline at Nantou. Kai, what do you know about the Green Sun?”

  Kai chewed with a slow, purposeful rhythm, his artful smile

  undeterred. He wiped his lips with a napkin and returned it to his lap.

  “Now there’s a mighty question, RJ. You first. Where did you hear this colorful name?”

  “My last job. Sewer maintenance with a crew of immos. Said they had a friend hunted by the Green Sun. They’re more afraid of it than the immigration consort. They couldn’t believe I was in the dark. They said Green Sun was run by executives for the seamasters. It would make sense for an ECD like Lan Chua. No one would chal enge him.”

  “Interesting conjecture.” Kai pointed to Ryllen’s plate. “Are you going to eat your last cake?”

  “I’m good. I’l fil up on breadfruit. So?”

  Kai stabbed at the cake with a fork and mumbled between bites.

  “What do you think Green Sun does, RJ?”

  “I hear different stories. Trackers. Collectors. Enforcers. Assassins.”

  “Hmm. Sounds brutish. I heard they’re defending The Lagos. Stil , I would think there’s opportunity, given the right connections.”

  “Opportunity for someone like me, you think?”

  Kai washed down his cake with infused mango juice.

  “I’d have no idea, RJ. But I’m good at asking questions. Maybe I know someone who knows Lan Chua.”

  Ryllen gambled with his next words, knowing they might be enough to end his rent-free holiday.

  “Kai, are you Green Sun?”

  Ryllen’s host almost let go of a ful smile, baring teeth. Instead, he grabbed both plates and carried them to the steam wash. Kai spoke without turning around.

  “You know I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to have you from the first night, RJ. But I can’t, and not because you might say no.

  Given a choice of tides, I think you’d prefer women. The real reason I can’t share your bed is because I’d have to reveal myself. It’s against the rules. I’d end up worse off than when you were sleeping outside in Umkau. It’s no accident you’ve never seen me undressed.”

  Kai returned to the table, finished his mango juice, and studied Ryllen with a pensive stare.

  “I like your braids,” he said. “But they need a flourish. I’m thinking of accents in rose and violet. Appropriate for Ascension, don’t you

  think? I’l add the accents when I come home tonight.”

  Ryllen agreed because he had no choice. Kai was shutting down the conversation. Just as important, Kai was an expert in hair; he changed his own colors and styles weekly.

  “If there’s anything I can do, Kai, please tel me. I’d like the opportunity, if it becomes available.”

  Kai flexed his brows then kissed Ryllen on the cheek. As he turned to leave, Kai hesitated. Ryllen’s stomach roiled in the momentary silence. Had he said too much?

  “RJ, have you heard the nickname my friends gave you?”

  “Sure. They’re not subtle.”

  “Do you know why they cal you the Idiot of The Lagos?”

  “I haven’t asked, but I assume.”

  Kai reached into the chest pocket of his yellow, double-breasted jacket and revealed a cylindrical pipe, packed with poltash weed.

  “A misfit, they say. Off-worlder passing as Hokki, stupid enough to leave the shield of his family. Worse than an immo. They don’t see courage. They see idiocy. It’s a good thing you have me, RJ.

  “But I worry. How much longer can I do this? The worst word in al of Engleshe is idiot.” He tapped his pipe, and the end glowed blue. He inhaled. “I’l see what I can do for you. In the meantime, be patient. Work on your rifter. Stay within the narrows.”

  Which is precisely what Ryllen did over the next nine days, with no hint of what was to come. He awoke to a prerecorded bicomm message from Kai, who left for work prior to sunrise. The hologram rose from his wrist before he stepped into the shower.

  “I told him about you,” Kai said. “He thinks you have promise, but he never makes a decision like this without looking a man in the eyes. Meet us, RJ. You only have this one chance. If you’re not there, he’l force me to do something I’l regret.”

  The rest of the message included the time and location.

  Ryllen spent the day in an emotional frenzy, each eighty-minute hour dragging without mercy. He laid out a ful -proof plan to arrive early, charted the simplest course, picked out a suit from among Kai’s ensemble, and refined the accents in his braids the way Kai showed him. Natural y, because the universe had no use for idiots,

  Ryllen jumped into his rifter and discovered an ignition failure.

  He needed forty minutes to repair the system, just enough to set him into a war against time and traffic.

  Dodging larger vehicles without incurring FD detection, Ryllen al owed anxiety to cloud judgment. No chance he’d make the rendezvous in time at this rate. If he left the UpWay at an early OutPass and hit the flat lanes too soon, he might encounter stifling congestion among slower, more cautious ground traffic – not to mention burgeoning crowds fil ing the streets for Ascension festivals.

  Soon, the city’s domes and curvaceous glass towers rose on either side of the UpWay. He was passing the expansive corporate cluster, where the offices of Hokkaido’s greatest seamasters demonstrated their economic might. Far to the south, his destination awaited.