“This is it, RJ,” Kai said. “Any reservations? Walk out now and be on your own again. You stay, you’re Green Sun for life. It’s the way without judgment.”
Ryllen thought of all those times when he lowered his eyes to avoid the dismissive glares of former family friends who turned on the Jees after making his father a scapegoat during the reprisals. Of how he resented the guilt by association. His mother, once a matriarch and social icon, was now a low-level accountant for Nantou Global, living on a permanently fixed income, the family estate in the Haansu District a fading memory.
Hokkaido wasn’t Ryllen’s home world, but he had nowhere else to go. The chair was his golden ticket. Only a fool would run.
He didn’t hesitate. Ryllen removed his shirt and filled out the chair. Boetha adjusted the machine and brought down the phasic tools, positioning them strategically above the bare chest.
“What does it look like?” Ryllen asked.
Kai answered by throwing off his jacket and peeling back his shirt. Now Ryllen understood why Kai never showed what lie underneath.
The tattoo covered most of Kai’s chest, extending south of his ribs. The green sun was the size of a breadfruit, stamped above his heart. Its blood-red rays diffused in perfect symmetry – one for each of the fifty-seven islands in The Lagos.
“You’re becoming a patriot, RJ. We have to protect our own.” Kai turned his eyes toward Boetha. “Will you finish before Ascension?”
“My art is precise but also fast. You’ll have twenty minutes to spare.”
“Perfect. Take good care of him, Boetha. I’ll be outside with Mei.” Kai winked at Ryllen. “I don’t think she was glad to see me.”
Boetha took great care to position his tools into a symphonic arrangement above Ryllen’s chest, with special emphasis on the largest laser needle, making sure to align directly over the heart.
“Is this your first body stamp?” Boetha said while targeting needles.
“Yes. Will it hurt?”
“No. You’ll feel a tug, as if I was flaying your skin, but the stabilizer is only repositioning your dermis to create a permanent space for the ink. In my experience, most boys your age have already been stamped. Some over half their body. Why did you hold out so long?”
He didn’t mind the truth. Not anymore.
“I’m betting most of those boys didn’t grow up in Haansu.”
“Fair point.” He triggered the central laser needle, which spun on a wheel and broke into eight smaller needles as it grabbed Ryllen’s chest and dug in. Boetha was right. No pain. If anything, the moment was exhilarating.
“How much did Kai tell you about me?”
“I’m a contractor, RJ. I stay on the healthy perimeter. I know only enough to know nothing at all.”
“So, you aren’t bothered that I’m not native Hokki?”
“My art belongs on humans. You meet the minimum bar. I’ve stamped people from six other worlds.”
“Any visitors from the Ark Carriers?”
“Sure. Before they left, at least one a month. Odd birds, all of them. The Chancellors, you see, they were not fond of body stamps. My clients were rogue. Some even went native. It’s not like you’re the only non-Hokki gracing our streets.”
Ryllen felt bold as the laser needles changed him forever.
“Do you miss them? The Chancellors? I assume they paid well.”
“Well does not describe it. I could have lived a comfortable life off twelve, maybe fifteen of them a year. So yes, when the Carriers left, I missed them.” He adjusted laser settings and leaned in to Ryllen. “But I’ve had time to reflect, like everyone else. There’s a bigger picture. We can’t be concerned with personal grievances. You know what I mean, RJ. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in my chair.”
He did know. Perhaps. Something was happening; the world was changing. It was about more than independence or each planet fending for itself in the absence of a unifying empire. Pieces of the larger issues remained a mystery to him; doors needed to be opened to allow the light inside.
Later, when he reviewed Boetha’s work in a mirror and saw the emblem of Green Sun across his chest, Ryllen exulted. Whatever the symbol meant, wherever it led him, whatever it made him do, at least he would face the journey with purpose.
“All I ever wanted was a path,” he told Kai afterward when asked if he felt like a changed man. “Thank you, Kai. For everything.”
They shared a brief kiss, though Ryllen knew Kai wanted – and now might expect – far more.
“Where’s your sister?” He asked, scanning the alley.
“Oh, we had a few words. That’s usually enough. It’s time to celebrate, RJ. You’re one of us now. A patriot. A soldier. I know the perfect place to watch Ascension.”
Minutes later, Ryllen parked the rifter outside a residential building a few blocks from the waterfront. Whoops and hollers echoed through the neighborhood. The structure looked decrepit, as if it were built shorty after colonization a thousand years ago, but the paint job on the ground-level façade appeared only a few years old. Pinchon wouldn’t waste that sort of money unless it deemed the building safe.
They took a lift to the roof. On the way up, Kai gave him instructions.
“If there’s ever a doubt, RJ, do this.” He crossed his right index and middle fingers. “A quick tap above your heart. Don’t hold it, even for a beat. If they nod, you nod. Don’t overcomplicate it. Understand?”
He did. Kai was taking him directly into the nest for Hokkaido’s most anticipated spectacle.
The scene was far more upscale than expected. This was, after all, Umkau. Hokkis young and old huddled in small groups. Clouds of poltash sweetened the air, and the spread of finger foods and fish rolls was complemented by many wines and liquors. Lights were hanging along the edges, but they were no brighter than the stars above.
Kai seemed to know everyone. They responded with generous smiles, compliments about his hair, and of course the two-fingered greeting. When surprised or cynical eyes turned his way, Ryllen stiffened his shoulders and delivered the sign. He saw their concerns vanish, and they welcomed him.
This was Green Sun? While most were a few years older than Kai, children as young as twelve ate and drank alongside their elders, and a few others were old enough to be grandparents. It could have passed as an ordinary gathering of tenants. Maybe that was the point.
“It’s almost time,” Kai said, pointing toward the west.
He was right. This was the perfect place to view Ascension.
The sun had disappeared beyond the ocean’s eastern horizon, but its fading embers – violet, red, orange – formed a lively backdrop against a cloudless sky.
To the west, the Kye-Do rings ascended forty degrees high. On their own, they inspired endless wonder. More than thirteen hundred rings carried quadrillions of tiny chunks of ice and rock borne from a cataclysm dating back to long before humans became thinking creatures. At night, their brilliance called to mind a celestial racetrack, casting a silver sheen greater than Hokkaido’s lone moon.
That moon – Huryo – was itself almost in position to complete the three-pronged reunion necessary for Ascension’s full effect. Tonight, its light was full, the tiny continents and vast oceans on its sunward side visible in great detail. Huryo crossed Hokkaido’s skies thirty percent faster than the rings. In minutes, it would align perfectly behind the center bands. Ryllen wondered whether Huryo’s million residents – protectors of the moon’s natural wonders – cared how much excitement their tiny world brought to Hokkaido.
Ryllen and Kai found a spot at roof’s edge, away from the other patriots of Green Sun. Kai draped an arm over Ryllen’s shoulder.
“We’re luckier than most,” Kai said. “The other colonies … do we even call ourselves colonies anymore? … they have nothing like this. I’ve heard Brahma’s rings are interesting, but they’re equatorial. Boring. Just always there.”
Kai handed Ryllen a pipe. After he took a long pull, Ryllen as
ked:
“Do you think there’s more to it than luck? Some people say it’s a message from the Divine.”
Kai’s tone darkened noticeably. “Not a chance. If it’s the Divine, they’re sending us the wrong message.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not now, RJ. Here it comes. Here it comes.”
Ascension’s first halo was not to be missed. Ryllen was told this from an early age, not long after he arrived on Hokkaido from parts unknown. Miss the first halo, they said, and your heart will not sing its highest note.
On cue, precisely seven hundred thirty-three days, twenty-seven hours, fourteen minutes, and nine seconds after its last dying miracle, Ascension lit up the Kye-Do rings and the moon Huryo in a concert of color. Waves of rose, orange, and violet swooshes consumed the rings, spreading out until painted from north to south. The dying rays of the sun narrowed into beams, as if millions of lasers rose from the east and draped the rings in natural graffiti.
Simultaneously, Huryo grew a massive halo, more than twice its visible size, as if it were projecting downward to Hokkaido. The halo appeared to drill a hole through the rings, as if the moon was clawing its way out.
Ryllen’s tears fell without hesitation. Though he was witnessing the miracle for a fourth time, each Ascension meant more than the previous. He couldn’t explain why, but his heart told him this was the truth of life. Many scientists wrote at great length to explain how this convergence of light and shadow was possible, but Ryllen never read their doctrine. If he knew the scientific secrets, he would only be disappointed. Kai was right: No planet in the former empire known as the Collectorate had anything like this.
They watched, like most others, in awed silence. All the cacophony Ryllen heard at the nearby port and in the narrow streets of Umkau disappeared. The city was quiet.
Only about ten minutes later, as the celestial convergence began to wane, did voices rise, laughter return, and cheers punctuate the night. The sounds grew into a roar as the sun’s final light fell away, the rings returned to their artful silver beauty, and the moon rose toward the highest bands, soon to overtake them and continue its lonely journey.
The party began. Clinking glasses, fish rolls, poltash for all, and trivial banter dominated the rooftop. Yet Ryllen and Kai stayed close.
After many introductions – Ryllen wasn’t about to remember all these names – he and Kai found a quiet spot.
“What you said earlier, Kai, about the Divine sending us the wrong message. What did you mean?”
Kai threw back a blue liquor and grinned.
“You’re in now. It’s good a time as any.” He pointed to the rings. “Beautiful, right?”
“You know they are.”
“My mother once told me, ‘Evil hides inside beauty.’” He leaned in close, his voice dampened to a whisper. “Most people here already know, but most Hokkis would close their ears before they’d listen to the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Those rings will be the death of us. You’ve heard about the growing issues with agriculture on the continent?”
“Sure. Everyone has. Poisoned soil, a drop in arable land. Why?”
“Nobody knows when it started, and it’s never been made public. But the rings are losing their orbital integrity. Most of the time, when chunks break off and fall into the atmosphere, they burn up. Not all. Just enough.”
“What’s falling through is poisoning the land?”
“Minus a science lecture … yes. Don’t ask me about the timetable. Some think it’s a temporary cycle. Others say the end is inevitable. Here’s the good news: The oceans aren’t impacted. At least, not yet. Saltwater dilutes the poison.”
“Kai, why am I just hearing about this? Shouldn’t everyone be warned? And how does Green Sun know so much?”
“Many people know. Most don’t talk, for their own good. It’s not like we can remove the rings. And where else do we have to go? Huryo? To live in the swamps? No, our best hope is Green Sun. We’re patriots and soldiers, and we’re going to protect our own.”
“Against what?”
“Not what. Who. Or maybe it’s whom. I forget. Listen, Kai, do you think the growing number of immos is a coincidence? How about the interlopers trying to compete against our seamasters? The Lagos have always controlled the seas. They’re growing desperate on the continent. They’re turning their eyes to us. In time, The Lagos will be the last refuge for a safe, clean Hokkaido. We have to protect it.”
Ryllen’s heart chilled. Now he understood.
“Patriots. Soldiers. We’re an army.”
“You’re damn well right, we are,” Kai said. “Without Green Sun, we have no defense against these bastards. So, we do whatever’s necessary to keep them out. In the old days, whenever there was regional trouble, the Chancellor Sanctums would call up the Ark Carriers. They’d send battalions of peacekeepers to put down our nastiest threats. Those monsters are gone now. The Lagos needs new monsters. People willing to go anywhere, obey any order, to protect our islands. You’re part of it now, RJ.”
Pride, dread, and a swell of enthusiasm consumed Ryllen.
“This place has never treated me the best, but it’s the only home I know. Thank you for telling me the truth, Kai. I’m committed.”
“Good. Tomorrow you’ll start your training. In a few days, classified briefings. After that, you’ll be in the fray.”
“The fray? How far do we take it?”
In another context, Kai’s twisted smile might have terrified him.
“The Chancellors used to have a saying. ‘Victory is morality.’ Green Sun’s only goal is victory for The Lagos. There’s nothing we won’t do.”
Kai didn’t have to say more. Ryllen understood the subtext.
Perhaps if he had a family who cared or a comfortable life in the Haansu District free of bigotry and disdain, he might have had qualms. His stomach might have turned at the idea of taking on the inevitable dirty business of soldiering.
Yet for the first time since he arrived on Hokkaido, Ryllen Jee felt important, needed, and loved. For the first time, he was trusted. And The Lagos were, after all, a paradise.
Who wouldn’t want to defend paradise?
2
The Idiot’s Mother
Standard Year 5363
R YLLEN JEE KNEW MOTHER would never approve. His adoptive siblings, who’d been looking for an excuse to excise him from their lives since Father died in the reprisals, would disavow him. He was, after all, a perpetual reminder of the deal that most likely sealed Father’s fate: Adopting an off-worlder from Chancellors in exchange for “special investment considerations.” Ryllen never learned the financial details, but side glances and stern whispers cried with ample volume.
Few walked the streets of Pinchon who were not Hokki, descendants of the ancient Koreans forcibly migrated from Earth and given a new home world, Hokkaido. Outside of a small cluster of rarely seen former Chancellors who “went native” during the final years of the Collectorate, Ryllen knew of no one else who bore his physical hallmarks of the Anglo-European gene pool. Consequently, his efforts to dress Hokki, to bury himself in Pinchon’s Modernist culture, and develop his own unique style of braids, met with uneven success. Some looked past his obvious difference, but most rebutted him with discrete half-smiles and a turn of their heels.
Until Kai Durin.
Until Green Sun.
They welcomed him, loved him, accepted him as being as loyal a citizen of The Lagos as any native-born Hokki. For them, the crusade to preserve the stability and legacy of The Lagos rose above genetic distinctions. They did what the government and seamasters would not officially sanction: the cleaning out of illegal “immos.” Ryllen trained, learned how the immo transit market worked, and helped track down and snare these interlopers, most of whom arrived from the continent spouting dangerous Freelander dogma.
None of it would have happened without Kai.
The rescuer. The soldier. The lover.<
br />
Ryllen never asked why Kai snatched him from the streets and gave him a home, beyond the ulterior angle to mold a new recruit. Nor did he resist Kai’s advances after Ryllen became a member of Green Sun.
It wasn’t love – at least not from Ryllen’s view – but it was tender and passionate, and at times a repayment of unspoken debt. Instinct told Ryllen it wouldn’t last, that Kai was a long bridge to another journey, but he’d best not hurry to reach the far shore. He wasn’t yet seventeen. Enjoy the comfort, love the new family, stay within the narrows.
This life made sense to Ryllen, which is why Mother and his siblings would never have approved. Sense dictated honoring the family name within the construct of Pinchon society, even if that name had been diminished by four years of social refinery.
“This is beautiful,” Ryllen said from the deck of the Quantum Majesty, a Sonning Class deep-sea trawling ship which was docking at Quay 95 of the Port of Pinchon. Ryllen absorbed the spectacle of the mile-long isthmus on a cloud-free midday. “Growing up, I never appreciated all we achieved in The Lagos.”
Kai, who pulled hard on his pipe and exhaled white poltash smoke, threw an arm over Ryllen.
“Not surprising,” he said. “You grew up in Haansu. Kilometers away but might as well be another island. This port builds their estates and fills their accounts with millions of Dims, but they only know it in principle. People in those families don’t work the port or learn the seas.”
Ryllen knew better, but contradicting Kai served no purpose.
Ships of all manner, from the tall-masted Barrier Class now three hundred years old to the sleeker Gnalix cruisers with binding fields to transport their catch, filled half the quays. Crews scurried busily among the drone cargo loaders, and giant Kohlna fish – the prize of the ocean – were conveyed in live pools to the meat processors lining the center of the isthmus. Scrams, rifters, and transports buzzed past the quays in a steady stream. The high season began in the West Hoonan Sea; soon the year’s biggest Kohlna would arrive in port – each beast more than eight hundred pounds.
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 160
