Kara wasn’t having it. “Honorable Father, if we don’t ask questions, our imagination will run ahead of us. Simply saying what I believe we’re all thinking may settle us in the days to come. Our words don’t have to leave this room.”
For the next several seconds, only the ceiling fan’s whirr broke the dreadful silence. Perr glanced at his wife then his daughter. He sighed.
“In deference to your new status,” he said, “and given how this horrifying event disrupted your celebration, I will allow dialogue. What troubles you, Daughter?”
She saw Lang’s brow flex; he was surprised Father acceded.
“No matter what happened last night or who was responsible, I think our relationship with the Chancellors will never be the same again.”
“How do you mean?” Perr said.
“They have always been the masters. True, we control the sea, but they control everything else. They have never been openly challenged because smart Hokkis know better. But this will give hope to everyone who has ever wished for new masters – or none at all.”
“Interesting speculation.” Perr turned to the boys. “Thoughts?”
Lang glared at Kara, as if she’d gone around the bend.
“They took a hit,” he said. “Sure. But let’s be honest. We know who did it. Those damn terrorists. The ones with the leader claiming to be some sort of god. They claim to have this … what? Army of immortals? We’ve all heard the reports the last year or so. Sneak attacks, raids, magic tricks on other colonies.”
“Precisely,” Dae added. “A band of fanatics. I’d bet anyone ten thousand Dims they got in a lucky punch when no one was looking. The Guard will chase them down, wipe out the whole lot. Chancellors will mourn their loss and close the case.”
“Business as usual before you know it,” Lang concurred.
Perr refocused on Kara. “They talk sense, Daughter.”
“Perhaps. But these terrorists – what do they call themselves? Ah, yes. Salvation. Strange name. Salvation from what? Or from whom? No one ever talks about that. But if these terrorists brought down three Carriers, who’s to say they can’t destroy the rest? Wasn’t there a group of desert fanatics on Hiebimini a long time ago who brought down a Carrier? Or was that legend?”
“Your point, Daughter?”
“There are more than a billion Freelanders on Hokkaido. They want separation from the Chancellors, and now they know the Chancellors are not gods. They have the numbers. If they see a path, I think they’ll rise up. The Chancellors won’t be able to hold the planet without war.”
Perr slammed his fist and wagged a fiery finger at Kara.
“There will be no talk of insurgency or war in this household. Not today, or ever. I allowed you an opportunity to speak, but only in the spirit of conciliation. Your notions are perverse. If I ever hear you dispense such wild ideas again, the consequences will be dire. Am I understood, Daughter?”
Kara buried her anger and nodded with due subservience. Lang and Dae relished her upbraiding.
None of them, as it turned out, were right. But Kara came the closest. In the coming days, as new reports surfaced, there were whispers of the terrorists using a weapon capable of generating a singularity. It was said to have swallowed up each Ark Carrier, leaving little wreckage adrift in orbit. Soon, news arrived from many other colonies of similar strikes on the same standard day. More than two million Chancellors perished, and the terrorists made their boldest demand: All Ark Carriers must leave the colonies and return to Earth, or they would meet the same fate.
The mighty empire forged by the Chancellory was brought to its collective knees by a tiny enemy no one took seriously.
Kara’s family walked around in a daze. She rarely saw her parents. They did not leave the estate, but they were in constant conference with fellow seamasters and their Carrier contacts. She knew this only through the tried-and-true art of eavesdropping. Once, she walked by Dae’s suite and caught him balled up in the corner of his bedroom, crying like a baby.
These theatrics confused Kara. The Chancellors were suffering great loss, for sure, but not a single Hokki died in the attacks. The industrial engine of the seamasters was not slowing. Video bytes from New Seoul and Puratoon showed random celebrations in the streets. Moreover, the terrorists only attacked Chancellor targets, so why should her family fear? Two billion people still needed to be fed.
Then, without warning, the family’s fear made a strange kind of sense. Perr called them to his library and sat behind his commanding desk to deliver the news and an edict.
“They’ve left us,” he said. “The other twenty-two Carriers departed our system three hours ago.” His voice quivered, a stunning betrayal of his well-honed discipline. “Admiral Sussex insists they will return someday, but he was lying to himself and to me. The terrorists have achieved a fortified position and they are capable of striking any Collectorate target without warning. For now, we are alone.”
Her brothers shifted uneasily. She saw the secret in their eyes: They knew what Father was about to say. It terrified them.
“After today, we will leave the estate grounds and go about our business,” he said. “What we will not do is discuss any association with the Chancellory. The admiral’s name will never be uttered. All questions about our interests aboard the Carrier fleet will be deflected. All accusations will be flatly denied. Our family legacy and the stability of Nantou will take precedent, as these two are forever entwined. The coming weeks and months will pose considerable challenges, but I have initiated a plan, working with our closest allies. It will require sacrifice. Many of our friends may suffer along the way. But never forget: We are Syung-Low. We have earned our place; no one will rip it from us.”
Perr leaned back, as if his pronouncement required no further discussion. The brothers smiled through their tears. Li-Ann nodded her approval. Kara raised her hand, as if trying to catch the attention of a disinterested teacher.
“Sacrifice, Honorable Father? What do you mean?”
His shaded eyes shouted frustration.
“Those matters do not concern you, Daughter. Follow my instructions. I will handle the challenges ahead.”
“What challenges? If the Chancellors are gone, what difference does our association with them matter?”
Hearing the words cross her lips was all Kara needed. She dared not utter the answer. Why hadn’t she made the connection sooner?
“Choices were made for the benefit of our clan,” Perr said. “We made those choices during a time free of consequence. That time has ended. I will say no more on the matter, and you will inquire no further. Am I clear, Daughter?”
Li-Ann grabbed Kara’s hand and squeezed. Message understood.
“Yes, Father. I know my duty.”
That night, Kara was the one who cried like a baby.
Her memory assembled all the pieces into a coherent pattern. She tapped into the many times she eavesdropped from a comfortable loft in the bullabast trees. She found trends within the whispers of family, friends, and classmates; in the casual asides of Honorable Father’s Nantou associates during various revelries; and the reports of economic hardship on the continent. Kara focused on the many visits of trade negotiators who begged for price breaks on Kohlna – not to increase their profits, but to fill stomachs. And then there were the Freelanders, who outnumbered the Modernists two to one. Their time had arrived.
Oh, Honorable Father, what have you done?
Kara didn’t want to know the full extent of Nantou’s crimes, for they were likely too many and spread over too many years. Hokkaido’s gaping inequity, with the seamasters controlling most of the planet’s wealth on the islands of The Lagos, did not happen by a quirk of fate. And now, the seamasters’ greatest benefactors were gone.
In the following days, life on Pinchon cracked on with an air of normalcy – so long as one did not look at the sky or talk about the future. At school, Kara’s friends offered no hint of concern, but their smiles seemed staged,
their attempts at humor or self-indulgence awkwardly timed. She found the greatest change in her instructors, all of whom appeared sullen, their eyes passing through the students. Her class on Modern Collectorate Principles was replaced by a free period.
It seemed as if Pinchon was waiting for someone to make the next move. Weeks later, Kara added new words to her daily vocabulary:
Reprisal and collaborator.
The accusations, protests, and attacks began in the continent’s metropolitan zones. Though she never heard talk of open civil war, the message was clear: Issues that simmered without hope of resolution under the Chancellory now boiled to the surface. People demanded change, pointing fingers to the institutions they blamed for generational woes. The angriest sought immediate retribution. Fires were set. Men were hung. Kohlna distribution centers were bombed.
In the past, Chancellors would send battalions of Guard soldiers to quell any civil violence. Now, only local law enforcement and drone security stood between enraged Hokkis and oblivion.
Amid the growing terror, peace held in the exclusive Haansu District where Kara lived. Each family meal was an exercise in deflection with the deliberate message: This will pass.
Five months after the Carriers retreated, the Guard suffered the most catastrophic defeat in its history while attempting to destroy the terrorists. The clear bottom line: The Chancellory’s great city-ships would not return to the colonies. By then, however, the news was met on Hokkaido with collective shrugs. New paths were being forged.
Kara never saw it coming.
The morning she learned the truth was chillier than normal but sunny. She walked as usual next door to the Baek estate, looking to spend time with Chi-Qua before heading to school. She didn’t notice the unusual quiet until she rang the front door, and no one answered. The Baek staff knew Kara’s morning routine; someone typically opened the door as she approached.
She waited. Nothing.
That’s when the odd silence drew her attention.
No vehicles. No gardeners.
She walked around the main house, spied into windows, saw no lights and no movement.
Kara pulled out her hand-comm and told the AI to contact Chi-Qua. Silence preceded a message she did not understand:
Chi-Qua Baek is no longer identifiable by this code. Please reset the code using the metric database.
“Wait. What?”
She saw her best friend fifteen hours ago. They talked of nothing special. They laughed. They gossiped.
Kara ran home and asked for her father, but Perr was en route to Nantou headquarters. Her mother, however, sat relaxed in the main parlor, enjoying tea and listening to a symphony by Sibelius, one of the greatest Chancellor composers.
“Where is Chi-Qua?” Kara asked. “What happened to the Baeks?”
Li-Ann seemed neither surprised nor put off by the question. She sipped tea and returned the cup to its saucer.
“You should be in school, Daughter.”
“Answer me.”
“You will hear the news soon enough. I’m afraid the Baeks have had a sudden change of fortune. Their extensive collaboration with the Chancellors was uncovered. The details are too numerous. Suffice to say, their family name has fallen into disgrace. The Baek name is being removed from the Nantou Executive Charter this morning. But don’t worry, Kara. I’m sure Chi-Qua will do just fine in her family’s new accommodations.”
“Where?”
“No idea. Somewhere in the city, if they can afford the lodging. The penalties and reparations they face are staggering, you see.”
“For doing what?”
“They were collaborators. What more do you need to know?”
The words fell from her mother’s lips with the casual drip of indifference. Kara unleashed the volcano within.
“Collaborators? We were collaborators! No one benefited more from the Chancellors than Syung-Low.”
“I disagree, Daughter. Our family has worked very hard to build Nantou, and Nantou has benefited all Hokkis. Our corporate records are clean. Any association with the Chancellory was peripheral. The Baeks, on the other hand …”
“Were sacrificed! Isn’t that right, Mother? I heard rumors about scapegoats being handed over to satisfy the vendettas, but I never thought we’d betray our closest friends.”
Her mother crossed her legs and raised her ears to the music.
“I cannot reason while you’re in such a state. Be glad your Honorable Father does not see you this way.”
“Why, Mother? Why destroy the Baeks?”
“We didn’t. Their ruin is their own. Be glad they won’t face imprisonment. I’m sure the family will make a solid go of it in time.”
The chill was strong in the parlor. Kara backed away.
“You’re not honorable, and you are not my mother.”
“Go to school, Daughter. Fulfill your duties.” As Kara turned to leave, the music died. “Remember this, Kara. We have two heirs. A third might be considered an extravagance. Never raise your voice in that manner again.”
Kara did not go to school. Instead, she changed out of her uniform and into casual clothes. She retreated to the garden, pouted for a while in the gazebo, and turned her eye to the giant bullabast tree.
Minutes later, she found a cubby where she was camouflaged and might cry and rage without interruption.
She was sixteen, but Kara wished she was six again. It was so much easier to be blind. The lies gave comfort and insisted all would be well until the end of time.
But the age of gods and lies was over, and Kara knew the truth was far from fully exposed. The pain, though desolate and unforgiving now, was bound to intensify in the coming months.
A cancer was spreading through paradise.
2
To be a Kohlna
Standard Year 5359
K ARA SYUNG FOLLOWED AT THE REAR because she did not want to draw attention from her guide. She preferred this pompous ass in a lab coat to indulge the whims of the tourists, regaling them with his boundless bio-marine expertise and tossing about terminology that echoed through their empty minds and fell into the ether. This might have been their first experience inside Nantou Global, but her family shared responsibility for running it. She wasn’t here to gawk, but Kara’s purpose was more complicated than the guide knew.
She checked her hand-comm every two minutes in a discrete maneuver. The security app she copied from her brother’s corporate memglass proved she was on the right course. When the time came, she’d have to figure out a convenient excuse for dropping off the tour. It wouldn’t sit well with the guide, a man who guest-lectured at the Vox School for Girls an entire semester. Kara thought his arrogance was exceeded only by his lechery.
The group of six entered a lift. When the door closed, their guide paused the descent.
“The research division is normally hidden from public view,” Dr. Taul Parke told them. “However, you have been granted VIP access. Per the contracts you signed, we ask for maximum discretion. No recordings, no documentation, no discussion of anything you see. Our proprietary work must be protected. Any violation of your contract will result in enormous financial penalty.”
She hated his voice. Parke’s high-pitched tone and stiff bottom lip oozed condescension at every syllable. The girls at Vox developed all manner of running jokes, obscene artistic renderings, and memes that made their way onto the Pinchon IntraNex under phony accounts. Rumors suggested he refused to teach a second semester after the demeaning barrage.
The lift opened, and Parke led them onto a platform overlooking a cavernous hall. A series of aquariums, from those no bigger than swimming pools to others more than fifty meters round, dominated the view. A network of open laboratories, conveyances, and catwalks filled the gaps between aquariums. Drones hummed as they circulated above the emerald green water.
“Every creature that makes its way from the ocean to our table lives here, and then some,” Parke said. “Per the Nantou creed, nothing from t
he sea goes to waste. We are constantly exploring new avenues for refining our catch. At our investors conference last week, Nantou revealed our product line has expanded nineteen percent in the past two years. Our catch is infused into more than sixty-two percent of all food consumed on Hokkaido. Combined with our competition, that figure now exceeds eighty-seven percent.”
“What a stunning achievement, Honored Parke,” an older woman exclaimed. “Hokkis would not survive without the seamasters.”
Sure, Kara thought. Big numbers. Bigger exaggeration. She doubted continentals ate as much seafood as Nantou’s marketing machine claimed. Higher the demand, higher the prices. She wanted to feed the old woman a reality check, but she remembered contesting Parke once in class. It did not go well.
“An astute observation,” Parke told the tourist. “This is why we must continue our research, not only to generate new food products from our catch but also into the arena of oils, medicines, and – if I might be bold – a potential revolution in pleasure supplements.”
His “boldness” drew snickers and reddened cheeks. Kara kept her contempt in check and her eyes shaded.
The tour continued on the main floor. Parke led them past watery habitats for varieties of crabs, variants of octopi and F’heldabeast, schools of ratfish, bone snakes, blue prawns, droplings, and glowing archers. He offered data points and two commercial uses for each form of catch. But the biggest tank far and away was the last stop and the most dramatic.
“We have duplicated their breeding grounds to an immaculate degree,” Parke said as they studied a school of Kohlna.
The giant fish – the primary source of a typical Hokki diet – did not cut a pleasant figure. More than fifteen feet long, the Kohlna sported a misshaped, bulbous head. Its eyes carried deep red irises. Its gaping mouth never closed, revealing an ivory set of inch-long teeth, each razor-sharp and collectively able to tear through synthetics and cables. Its dorsal fins supported a wingspan measured in feet. Scientists theorized it flew at an earlier stage in its evolution. Its skin glimmered like armor, though close inspection revealed it to be covered in a handful of tightly packed scales.
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