The Simmering Seas

by Frank Kennedy

  “There’s so much you need to know,” she told Ya-Li, leaning in close and waiting for the next terror.

  A brief silence was broken when translucent shapes emerged from all sides of the amphitheater. They seemed to slip in and out of vision, shimmering then blending in with the terrain, as if phasing in and out of invisibility. The disturbances appeared human in size, and discerning ears heard rushing footsteps.

  Feet belonging to a pair of phase-shifting figures took the stage. One scurried to the dais and flung the prefect away, sending Yost stumbling into the families gathered at the rear. A shrill mechanical cry rose from the translucent creature closest to Kara and Ya-Li.

  The shield fell, revealing a human sheathed in black battle armor, the face hidden inside an insectoid-like helmet glistening in sunlight. The companion onstage also dropped his shield, as did at least ten others now strategically positioned around the amphitheater and veranda. They extended arm-length blast weapons more fearsome than anything Hokkis ever saw from the Chancellory’s Unification Guard soldiers.

  The one who stood behind the dais raised his weapon with one arm and a gloved fist with the other.

  “The estate is ours,” he shouted. “We have blocked all comms. If anyone attempts to fight back, you will be killed.”

  The voice was deep, guttural, but Kara thought she recognized it. The man behind the dais pivoted to his companion in black.

  “Bring him.”

  The other creature – soldier, terrorist, off-worlder? – directed his aim at Ban-Ho Taron, a man who recently celebrated his one hundred and fifth birthday. Next to him, Hoija Taron tried to intervene, stepping between her father and the blast weapon. Yet Ban-Ho, though feeble, stiffened his shoulders, politely telling Hoija to stand aside.

  “I know how to deal with these filthy ratcatchers,” he said, slurring the words. As he advanced, Ban-Ho added: “Been doing it all my life.”

  He took his place center stage at the end of the speaker’s blast weapon. He stared at the black armor with disdain but, Kara thought in her horror, with a certainty about what was coming next.

  “He is your great grandfather?” The man in armor asked Ya-Li, whose tears fell unrestrained.

  “Ye … yes. Please, don’t hurt him. We can give you anything.”

  “That’s why I’m here. But you need to know something, Ya-Li Taron.” He raised his voice. “All of you need to know. This great grandfather was the original traitor to the Hokki people. He conspired with his generation to destroy the continent. Nothing is done on Hokkaido without his blessing. I say … no more.”

  The blast weapon coughed a tiny wisp of blue fire that expanded upon impact above Ban-Ho Taron’s heart and melted a hole six inches wide through his chest. He fell like a stone.

  Kara and Ya-Li collapsed into each other’s arms amid screams and frantic attempts to escape the noose surrounding the attendees. Other weapons fired, and guests dropped. The bridesmaids and groomsmen raced off the stage, none interested in saving the bride or groom. Kara faced her family, who were on their knees, embracing certain death. Dae convulsed. Beside him, a body lay on its side, eyes staring into forever. Poor Luyn, the first Taron to join the House of Syung-Low, was nearly decapitated.

  Ban-Ho’s executioner raised both arms again, and the shooting ended at once. He yelled to the crowd.

  “No one else has to die today. Drop your hand-comms, all connective devices, and bags. You will proceed into the great hall in silence. When we have what we want, we will leave.”

  As order emerged, Kara saw six … no eight … now ten bodies spread across the amphitheater or lying on the veranda beneath the balcony where servants watched the wedding.

  Chi? No sign of her.

  The speaker in black looked out upon the crowd and pointed.

  “You! Sho Parke. Ja Yuan. You stay. Join me.”

  Another man in black armor made sure they complied.

  The speaker tapped a plate around his neck, and his helmet dissolved in a blink. Kara didn’t understand what she saw at first. He was somehow more youthful than the voice led her to suspect. The malice shown through his cold, wide eyes, firm jowls and ragged white beard which slinked along the jawline. Yet it was the braids that gave him away. Tightly woven against his skull, in thin rows – each a different color.

  He was the man she knew. He was not the man she knew.

  “RJ?”

  49

  R YLLEN JEE ACKNOWLEDGED HER with a nod then tapped a panel on his left forearm.

  “How’s the perimeter coming?” He asked.

  A familiar voice replied. “We’ll need another two minutes on the cascade barrier,” Ham Cortez said.

  “Good. Are you in position to light them up?”

  “Oh, yes. We will draw more than enough attention.”

  “Do it, Ham.”

  Ryllen looked above the estate’s northern wing. Kara pivoted with him and saw a Scramjet hovering on the far side. It unleashed a barrage of energy slews. The ground shook as dozens of explosions gave birth to fireballs. Every personal vehicle was being obliterated.

  Amid the devastation, Kara bent down beside Ya-Li, who appeared to revert to a terrified little boy.

  “Please, Ya-Li, you need to be strong now. For both of us.”

  As the lines of horrified guests began funneling toward the great hall and the fireballs continued, a shadow fell over the young Taron couple. Ryllen dropped his weapon to his side and leaned in close.

  “You hate me for what I’ve done, but you have to trust me,” he said. “Everything that happens now has to play out. You might not understand what you’re about to see, but know this: If I lose today, Hokkaido burns in two years. There will be no stopping it.”

  Ya-Li turned his tears into rage and lunged at Ryllen, who didn’t resist. Kara, however, pulled her husband back. Not a single word Ryllen said made any sense.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Trust me. Kara, you’re the reason I’m here, and you’re the reason we have any damn chance of winning. Let me help you.”

  He stepped back, but Kara wasn’t through.

  “Winning what, you bastard?”

  She saw the hesitation. He was debating whether to give her the answer she required. His eyes flittered between Kara and the two families who awaited his judgment at the rear stage.

  “I’ve seen the universe like I hope you never do,” Ryllen said. “Kara, when did you last talk to me?”

  The question seemed pointless in the moment.

  “What? I don’t know. Three days? Four?”

  He nodded. “This is the first time I’ve talked to you in six years. Please. I’m not insane. Not yet. Trust me.”

  And yet all signs pointed to madness. He started toward the families before twisting back around to Kara.

  “Oh, and if you reach for that pistol – wherever it’s hidden – please don’t shoot me. I’m in a hurry.” He grinned when he saw Kara’s reaction. “I thought it was a risky move, but Ham’s a clever guy. Or should I say Nathaniel Loomis?”

  Kara didn’t go for her weapon. Ryllen was a difficult man to kill, and if she missed on the first try, she wasn’t likely to get a second.

  Ryllen held his weapon across his chest as he surveyed the families plus the new additions – Ja Yuan and Sho Parke.

  “I’d ace every last one of you, even the kids,” he said, “if I thought it would make a damn difference. But we’re so far into the muck, there’s only one way out.” He turned to the triumvirate of Hoija Taron, Sho Parke, and Ja Yuan. “You three assholes know what I mean. Yes?”

  They showed no evidence of intimidation, even as Ryllen raised his weapon. Kara was stunned to see a surprising peace in their expressions, like with Dae in the seconds before he executed Mei.

  Hoija tilted her head with a splash of condescension Kara knew well. Sho Parke, a spindly man with an immaculate gray coif, twinkled as if he were confronted with the joy of great revela
tion. Ja Yuan, a sturdy but shorter executive with no hair and jade eyes, maintained a chin-up, fist-to-his-sides façade harkening to his early years as a famed pugilist. Their utter lack of outward fear terrified Kara.

  Ryllen focused his aim on Hoija Taron.

  “Hello, General,” he said. “It’s been a few years.”

  She looked askance. “I’m sorry, dear. And you called me … General? Just exactly who are you?”

  “This is how you’re going to play it, General?”

  “I don’t play, dear, but I always win.”

  “True. You got a perfect record. What’s the toll been? Twenty million? Thirty? Come on, General Taron. It’s just us and a few friends. We destroyed the drones. No one else has to know. Oh, and for the record, your hat looks ridiculous.”

  To that, she appeared offended.

  “Coming from a terrorist who will be dead in a few minutes? Hmm. I think I’ll survive the insult.”

  “Where is he?” Ryllen spoke to all three. “I want the Inventor.”

  They stared at each other with quizzical emptiness.

  “Who?” Parke and Yuan said.

  “Tell me where to find the Inventor, or I’m going to melt someone’s head off. Ever seen what one of these does to a human head? General, how about you? Ever close enough to the front line to see it first-hand?”

  “Only today. I see what you savages have done.”

  Ryllen nodded to his companion, who grabbed another Taron from the mix. A cousin, tall woman, almost thirty. Kara knew little of her – Lin-Fa, she recalled – but was moved by her screams as the armored soldier threw Lin-Fa to the stage near the end of Ryllen’s weapon.

  “Enough. Ryllen. Please.” Kara let go of Ya-Li’s hands. “Stop this.”

  “Ah!” Hoija bellowed. “There it is. A confession. You know the terrorists. You’re part of this, Kara Syung.”

  “Taron.” Kara corrected her. “And I don’t know what this is about, but it has to end.”

  Ryllen aimed his weapon at the cousin as if prepared to fire. He turned to the families.

  “Who loves her enough to die in her place?”

  No one stepped forward. Heads bowed. Kara scanned the crowd and found this woman’s parents, Muna and Kwan-Ji. They shed tears but remained rigid.

  Kara made a choice. He won’t hurt me.

  She slid to her knees between the blast weapon and Lin-Fa.

  “No more, Ryllen. No. More.”

  He raised his weapon and turned to the families.

  “Now, there’s some courage,” Ryllen said. “You assholes wouldn’t blink to save this coit. Or Kara. As long as you protect the alliance and hide the Inventor, you don’t give a cud who dies. One more time, General. Where is the Inventor?”

  Hoija removed her hat decorated in seabirds and tossed it aside. She dropped her hands to her hips and closed in on Ryllen, who was an inch shorter. Kara thought her features, which carried the aura of matriarchal dominance, morphed into a rigid, bloodthirsty scowl. She turned on the defiance even as Ryllen pressed the barrel of his weapon into her chest.

  “You know my price,” she said. “You want the Inventor? Hand it over. Now.”

  “I knew you were tucked inside there, General. When did you Splinter? After the Battle of Santai?”

  She grinned. “Good try. Now, where is it?”

  “Safe. You think I’d bring it with me?”

  “No. But you’re here, and that’s all we need.”

  She held up one hand and pressed a palm-sized communicator.

  The response was immediate. Armed figures emerged from all directions. Through hedges, atop the roof, out of windows, from bullabast trees and auxiliary structures across the estate.

  At least a hundred.

  It seemed to Kara like a small army. Each officer wore the blue-gray bodysuit of the KumTaan, the police division created to combat terrorism in Pinchon. Mocked for incompetence and timidity, these KumTaan officers appeared anything but amateurish. They converged around the perimeter of the amphitheater with scripted precision and took aim at the small band of black-armored invaders who controlled the stage. Their long guns, while not as horrifying as the beasts that shot blue flame, were sufficient to rip apart a select few targets.

  Ryllen rolled his eyes before tapping his neck plate. The insectoid helmet covered him like a new skin.

  No one fired, though all weapons were trained.

  “You played your card too fast,” Ryllen told Hoija. “I thought you’d give me more of a chance to negotiate.”

  “I do not now, nor have I ever, negotiated with a terrorist.”

  “Not a terrorist, General. Your enemy. And you knew I was coming.” He turned to Kara. “You wondered why your wedding was moved up. I’m the reason, Kara. These assholes set a trap for me and my team. They exposed themselves to lure me in. They knew I was looking for the Inventor, and they also knew I stole the Splinter.” He paused. “I’ll fill you in on the details later. I promise. At any rate, one of these geniuses decided it was worth the risk to put all their best friends and social parasites in mortal danger to bring me out in the open. That about the size of it, General?”

  Hoija pushed in tighter against Ryllen’s weapon.

  “The stories I heard. She said you became so clever. Let me tell you about clever. This one,” she said, pointing to Kara, “will be the first to go. Five KumTaan are trained on her now. Your friend, Hamilton Cortez, will be the second. We have a lock on his Scramjet. If he tries to maneuver from his position, he’ll be shot out of the sky. We’ll move on to your former brothers and sisters in Green Sun. We’ve rounded up a dozen in the past twelve hours. They will be executed. Then we will kill their families and all their extended relatives. We’ll finish with your meager team. Your armor is strong but not invincible. And before you die, you will hand over the Splinter.”

  Ryllen turned to the two families, whose faces were grave.

  “I won’t ask for a show of hands,” he said, “but if I was a betting man, I’d figure most of you didn’t see this bit coming. Or who she thinks she is. Here’s the problem. This woman thinks she’s in control because she believes she’s General Hoija Taron. But she’s not.” He faced Hoija. “Wrong cudfrucking universe. You’re a fragment. You were never really here, General. There’s a problem with being a fragment: You can tell your nesting body whatever it wants to hear, but something is always lost in translation across the divide.

  “You made four mistakes, Hoija. One, you got good old fashioned greedy. Two, you chased the wrong version of me. Three, your ranks aren’t as secure as you think.”

  Kara saw a flicker of doubt in the woman’s rigid features.

  “I hope you’re this bold during the torture,” Hoija said.

  “Won’t need to be.” He tapped a panel on his arm. “Roast ’em.”

  An awkward pause set in for two, maybe three seconds, enough for Kara to pivot toward her husband, whose tears were diminished.

  The rest happened in a blink.

  Every officer of the KumTaan spasmed. Some coughed up saliva. Their eyes dropped back into their heads as they collapsed into quivering heaps. They went quiet and lay still.

  Amid the many gasps, the most obvious came from Hoija. She lost her scowl as she looked around at the carnage.

  “No. This can’t be.”

  “It’s your own fault,” Ryllen said. “You led them into a war they never knew they were fighting.”

  50

  H OIJA TARON APPEARED DUMBFOUNDED. When she asked how this was possible, Ryllen dropped his helmet.

  “That’s your fourth mistake,” he said. “Arrogance. The magnetic firing bolt in the Mark 5 rifle operates on a narrow frequency. Send the right signal, and the bolt overloads. I think the KumTaan is gonna have a hard time recruiting after today.”

  Ryllen backed away from Hoija and focused on the families.

  “Yes. They’re all dead. Blame the ones who brought them here. Blame the ones who intend to wage a
war this planet and every colony is going to lose. Most of you Haansu elites believe in the alliance and the Inventor’s promise for Hokkaido. But what you don’t know is how it’s gotten away from the Inventor. If you follow him, this planet will burn. And these three assholes?” He returned his focus to the triumvirate. “They know all about it. Well, these three plus one more. Remember, General, what I said about the security in your ranks?”

  Ryllen motioned his closest companion to take his spot guarding the triumvirate. Ryllen walked across the stage and approached Kara’s family. She rose to her feet. Who was he going to execute now?

  He stopped in front of her father, mother, and brother and looked down at Luyn’s body.

  “You should have told her everything,” Ryllen said, as if speaking to the corpse. “She wouldn’t have panicked.”

  Dae looked as shaken as Ya-Li, but discombobulation on his face made clear: Ryllen wasn’t speaking to him. Li-Ann also displayed a disconnect. However, the tall imperious man between the two of them locked eyes on Ryllen.

  “I trust no one but myself,” Perr Syung said.

  Kara’s father, the man who spent years manipulating the continent as Nantou’s chief liaison, the man who knew the Ark Carrier fleet’s Admiralty on a first-name basis, the man who walked at the right hand of Ja Yuan, adjusted his tie and straightened his jacket when he stood.

  He matched Ryllen eye for eye. The immortal nodded.

  “I understand,” Ryllen said. “But it’s over now. You wanted a chance to save them. Here it is on a silver platter. Do it.”

  Li-Ann launched into hysterics, grabbing her husband.

  “What is this, Perr? What is this filth talking about? You …”

  Perr swung around and slapped her silent. Dae jumped to his feet as if to intervene, but Ryllen shoved him away.

  “Enough,” Perr told them. “Sit down and shut up, both of you. I am trying to save what is left of our name.”

  “It’s true,” Ryllen announced to everyone. “Don’t know if he’s got the stomach for it, but let’s find out.”

  Kara never saw her father in any context where he was not in control. Even after the Chancellory fell and the family’s interests were threatened, Perr maintained a veneer of cold discipline. He sat at the head of every table, led every toast, began and ended every dialogue on his terms. Now, he walked across the stage with discernible hesitance, his legs moving forward with the awkward rigidity of a robot in the prototype stage. And there, just above his brows, grew beads of sweat.