“Remember,” Kai said, “we need Shin alive for the byte.”
A few minutes later, Ryllen heard the sweet hum of swift boat engines. He ducked out of position to get a better look. As intel predicted: Two boats, slowing as they approached the Swallows.
“They’re coming,” he whispered for the shell. “Take position. Guns ready. No survivors.”
The boats throttled back and glided inside the Swallows largely on the rush of the tide. They entered the narrow cavern one at a time. From his perch, Ryllen saw their backs.
He counted. Seven on boat one. Courier, plus six. Same for boat two. Intel pegged it precisely.
The courier stood with confidence behind the steering arm, while the six immos sat near the stern, black shirts, three abreast, their heads down.
Fodder for target practice.
The enemy needed to be killed before stepping off the boats. Quick and clean. If Kai was ambitious, they might redirect the boats before Shin Wain and his team arrived.
“All in,” Ryllen whispered, the go-order indicating every target was accounted for.
“Take them soft,” Kai responded, giving the order to use Goodboys instead of the high-powered blast rifles. With their targets clustered and defenseless, they were easy marks. The suppressors on the Goodboys were perfect for silent executions.
Ryllen advanced one step and saw an inconsistency. How did he miss it the first time?
The immo shirts were black. Yes. But something was off. They weren’t fabric. No wrinkles, no bends.
Metal.
Armor. They’re wearing armor.
How did he miss it?
Ryllen hesitated, perhaps no more than a second, but his paralysis lasted long enough.
“I …” He shouted, too late.
The couriers and their twelve passengers rose as one to reveal night-vision bands and long guns.
Modified blast rifles.
They opened fire.
The cavern shouted in a blaze of chaos and malevolence as flash pegs hit their targets with brutal efficiency.
Ryllen saw two of his brothers fall in the same instant a flash peg bore a hole through his gut. A second tiny missile shattered his left collarbone and exploded inside his chest.
He fired the Goodboy without aim, his mind awash in the shock of the incomprehensible. Ryllen staggered to the edge of the rock face.
He was feather light. All he needed were wings.
Was this how his victims felt in the instant before Ryllen delivered the fatal peg? Was it better to go out this way – sudden, violent, deserved – than to suffer the long, slow misery of natural death?
Two more flash pegs caught him beneath the ribs.
Before his eyes closed, Ryllen saw the rocks beneath rise up.
Silence.
Neither whisper nor heartbeat.
Equilibrium.
And yet, something calling him back.
No. Someone.
And then, excruciating pain. He was helpless and anguished.
“Fire is an appealing idea.”
The voice was male; calm and deliberate enough to be his father.
“But no. Their faces need to be seen. Natural poses.”
Nearby footsteps. A different voice. Female.
“Direct to the IntraNex, sir?”
“No. Leave it to the Constabulary. If they haven’t released bytes after two days, we will.”
Pain was still horrific, his body wracked by convulsions. But now, his eyes opened. He saw feet nearby. Spotlights flashing. His skull was cracked, but Ryllen looked up. His night-vision band still worked.
The face was familiar. Mustachioed, elegant man. The target.
Shin Wain.
You did this.
Ryllen’s anger surged, though he could not feel his limbs.
Kai?
Shin Wain pivoted and looked down with surprise. He focused a pen-sized spotlight, which blinded Ryllen.
“Oh, dear. A live one.”
He turned to the woman and asked for a gun then swung around and aimed.
“I admire your goals,” he said, “but you’ve gone about it all wrong. The Lagos is changing, and you misguided bastards are in the way. Goodbye.”
Ryllen saw a flash. A hot bolt drilled a hole in his skull.
Silence.
Neither whisper nor heartbeat.
Equilibrium.
Equilibrium.
The dark without stars.
…
…
The next time Ryllen woke, he heard nothing but ocean waves pounding against the rocks. He hurt all over, but this time he felt his limbs. His night-vision band still functioned.
He lifted his head and pushed off against a slick surface. He looked down and saw a puddle. The right side of his skull was wet, so he ran his hands through his braids. This was not water. This was … No. Wait. They wore armor and they …
All of it returned in a spontaneous flashback, including the pain every time a flash peg exploded inside him.
It was a setup. We walked into a trap. We … Kai?
He stammered to his feet and scanned the cavern. The swift boats were gone.
Ryllen knew what he’d find. He saw the first bodies in seconds. He made his way around the perimeter, stopping for fits of dizziness.
Ryllen didn’t want to see. Better to run while he had the chance. But there was only one way out, and he remembered who was stationed closest to the exit.
He found Kai limp against a limestone facing, his body shattered by a barrage of flash pegs, his blood savagely painted on the rock like poor graffiti. Kai stared into the abyss, his green hair covering half his face, matted in blood.
What to say? What to do? What to feel? Ryllen didn’t want to leave him like this, but what choice did he have?
“I’m sorry, Kai. I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sorry.”
Ryllen kissed the man who brought him into Green Sun with the promise of a renewed sense of purpose. “The way without judgment,” Kai called it. Ryllen remembered their last conversation on the beach at Barrio Island.
“You were right, Kai. A man has to stand for something.”
He stumbled into the night. The botanical gardens were as quiet as when they arrived, although Ryllen had no concept of time’s passage. The scenery was familiar, yet somehow different. Alien. Askew.
Enough pieces of his memory returned to guide Ryllen to his rifter, which remained hidden beneath the bullabast tree. He jumped inside and grabbed the steering arms. This was the side where Kai sat.
Ryllen threw off his night-vision band and looked at his hands. Now his jacket. His shirt. His pants.
Blood. My blood.
He hadn’t given himself the chance to think of the impossible until now. The flash pegs tore his body apart, dug into his brain.
They killed me.
The sobs arrived in uncontrollable waves.
For Kai. For failure and defeat. For the horror that he did not lie dead alongside his brothers and sisters.
The next hours were an exercise in forward motion guided by panic on multiple fronts. He raced home and ducked inside before a neighbor saw his blood-draped visage. He showered and studied himself in the mirror, unable to find evidence of a single wound. He packed in a hurry, knowing full well the Constabulary would come around after identifying Kai’s body. If Shin Wain knew someone survived, he’d send assassins to track down every potential lead. Ryllen wasn’t going to wait around. He lived on the streets before Kai found him; he’d do it again if necessary.
Before he left, however, Ryllen opened his jewelry box and recovered the memglass Muna Lin Jee gave him months ago after revealing his birthplace to be Earth.
“I believe you exist as part of a larger plan,” she said at the time. “I have long held a suspicion, but I don’t know whether to be terrified or enthralled.”
He had never acknowledged the memglass after tossing it into the box. In time, it fell out of his memory altogether. Now, on a n
ight when Ryllen wanted to be alone and grieve but had little choice other than to run, he tucked the memglass into a safe pocket.
He stopped at the door and looked back. He wanted to remember the best moments, but if he tried, the tears would come again. He didn’t have the luxury to hesitate.
Ryllen played it safe when he navigated his rifter onto the UpWay. He stayed between the narrows, as they say, obeying all ITD laws. Anything to avoid drawing attention. He broke off at the most convenient OutPass and surfaced the back streets to the Green Sun safehouse in Zozo. He didn’t explain himself to the landlord who kept an eye on the place for Lan Chua and crashed on a cot in a hidden room.
He never slept more than ten minutes at a time. His blood roiled with grief and rage. Sometime during mid-morning, a single knock on the door was followed by the whisper of paper slipped beneath.
The note was abbreviated, but Ryllen understood:
LC. 944X.
Lan Chua was awaiting Ryllen’s call via bicomm but altered his genetic link to receive on an encrypted channel. So, the rumors were true: Bicomms could be hacked. Ryllen opened the wrist-melded device and entered the new pathway extension to Lan’s known receptor code.
Only after Lan’s six-inch figure emerged above his wrist did Ryllen realize he never prepared for this moment. Lan did not hide his fury.
“Nine bodies,” he announced. “We lost nine. If you want to walk out alive, you’d best have a good answer. How did you survive, RJ? How are you in one piece?”
Cud. He thinks I was part of the setup. He thinks I’m a traitor.
It made sense. The intel was perfect but for one crucial sticking point. How could it have passed the vetting process without the work of a traitor? Ryllen refused to believe it. Everyone in Green Sun would have laid down their lives to save The Lagos. But this wasn’t going to satisfy Lan Chua, who must have felt the same panic. Were his enterprises collapsing around him?
This was not a moment for the truth, so Ryllen improvised.
“It was Kai,” he said. “Kai changed the plan at the last minute. He said we needed to guard our rear flank, so he stationed me outside the Swallows. He was afraid Shin Wain would bring a large security detail. But it was a trap, Lan. From the inside. There were no immos. They were trained, and they knew where we’d be. I came in after the firing started. I … I froze when I saw what happened. They left on the boats.”
Lan sighed. “Shin Wain? Did you see him?”
“No. He never came.” Ryllen hated himself. “Kai was wrong. We all were. We didn’t see it coming. I’m so sorry, Lan. I failed.”
“Not you, RJ. Me. I failed to see how organized our enemy had become. I will not make this mistake again.”
Ryllen sniffled. “What do I do now?”
“You’ll need time. I’ve sent an agent to your flat in case the Constabulary hasn’t yet visited. They’re pathetic investigators, but I don’t wish to make it easy for them. My agent will remove any compromising evidence. In the meantime, stay where you are for a few days. Afterward, we’ll move you. Perhaps a few weeks at Barrio before you return to active duty.”
“Thank you, Lan. I’m still a patriot. I’m still with you.”
“I apologize for doubting, RJ. Give yourself time to recover. I’ll be in touch soon.”
After the call ended, Ryllen relaxed about fifteen seconds before considering a terrifying possibility: Lan needed to clean up this mess before it tracked back to him. He spent years organizing Green Sun while maintaining one of the most powerful corporate offices in Pinchon. Lan had to weigh protecting his soldiers against protecting himself and his large, unassuming family. If he didn’t see clear to doing both, he’d have to choose.
Suddenly, the safehouse seemed much less secure.
“No,” Ryllen told himself. “Lan won’t do it. He’s a good man. He wants the best for us. He’ll protect me.”
Ryllen snuck out of the safehouse shortly after noon, hiding a Tachtron reader, a memglass, and a Goodboy in a side pocket. Though no one in the Zozo district paid him any mind, Ryllen assumed they were reporting him for his many crimes. He was a killer, after all. But he found a quiet corner in a dank alley to examine the contents of the memglass, hoping Muna Lin Jee spoke the truth months ago about the data contained within.
“There is someone in Pinchon capable of breaking the encryption,” she told him. “He is ex-Chancellor. He works freelance intelligence for the seamasters. I used my contacts in Nantou to retrieve this man’s particulars. I give you a path, Ryllen. Take it now, while time stands in wait.”
Time was up, and Ryllen ran out of options. He’d never see his first family again, and the second one might be coming to kill him. He put the last ounce of his faith in a former Chancellor named Hamilton Cortez.
Muna Lin made Cortez seem like a man of considerable success – running intel for the seamasters carried hefty rewards. Yet he lived a few streets away in a second-floor flat. No one of importance lived in Zozo. Ever.
Given the man’s occupation, he proved surprisingly easy to find. Ryllen never had to enter the man’s building. Instead, as he passed a bar adjacent, he heard an angry woman shout:
“Say it again, you Randall cudfruck, and you’ll be answering to my brothers. Get. Out.”
Randall was an epithet Hokkis sometimes used to describe Chancellors who “went native” to live with the locals. Ryllen heard it directed his way once or twice early in school before he understood the implications. Back then, before the Ark Carriers left Hokkaido, his parents stood up for their adoptive son.
Ryllen’s target was seven feet tall, with broad shoulders above a lean build. He walked with a long, leisurely gait, smiling through a thick dark beard that complemented hair pulled back into a ponytail and draping halfway down his back. He wore a traditional gray Sak’ne suit joined at the waist by a broad red sash. Ryllen never saw such fashion among the common people, let alone the Modernists who dominated the island city. Was it possible he was a Freelander? The target smiled as he threw back a glass of green alcohol, most likely sanque.
“Hamilton Cortez?” Ryllen asked, maintaining a safe distance.
The man stopped, laughed like someone who lost all care about life, and continued on without looking back. Ryllen tried again.
“Honored Cortez. May I speak with you?”
The man whistled, held the empty glass up to the sun, and moaned.
“I’m all manner of things, but honored I am not.” He swung around. “And if you’re trying to be clever, I suggest …”
He caught himself when he took his first look at Ryllen.
“OK then. Was not expecting you.”
“Wait. Do you know me?”
“I should. Hold on, kid. It’s coming to me. Ah, yes. Jee. Family name. Yes? Ah, hold on. Brayllen? Galen?”
“Ryllen.”
“No, no. That’s not it. They call you RJ. Yes?”
“Wait, what? How do you know this?”
Hamilton Cortez shaded his eyes as he approached Ryllen.
“There are sixty Chancellor-born in The Lagos. We tend to stand out. Yes? I like to keep track.”
“I’m not a Chancellor.”
“But you were born on Earth. Same thing, more or less.”
“You know my story?”
“I know many stories. Some happy, some sad. Occasionally, tinged with a mild nose of redemption. What do you want from me?”
“I need your help. I think you’re the only one who can.”
“Huh. Two billion people on this big, gorgeous rock, and somehow, it’s down to me. For the record, there are other Earth-born you can play with.”
Ryllen revealed the Tachtron reader.
“I have a memglass with a Chancellor encryption. I was told you could break the code.”
“Almost certainly. Might take a few days, but I don’t do Chancellor anymore, kid. I’m Hokki now. Can’t you tell?”
“But you just said you kept track of …”
�
�Oh. That. Everyone needs a hobby.”
Ryllen lowered his voice. “Can’t we go somewhere and talk? I have a very important question I need answered. I think it’s on the memglass. Please, Hamilton?”
“For the record: Ham. And what is your grand question?”
“What am I?”
“Hmm. As interrogatives go, that’s an interesting choice. OK. Five minutes, kid. With me.”
Ham escorted Ryllen up the block to one of several empty benches surrounding a lifeless stone fountain. They sat.
“Lived in this neighborhood three years. It’s never worked. Pity. So then, why do you ask a question in the form of ‘What am I’”?
Ryllen didn’t know where to begin. He stammered.
“I … last night, I was …”
“Whatever it is, I won’t be shocked, kid. I worked six years in Special Services for the Guard. There’s nothing more shocking than a Chancellor at playtime. Out with it, RJ. I charge by the hour.”
“Last night, I was shot. Four times. Maybe five. I can’t be sure. I was … they …”
“Ah. By they, you mean whoever hit back against Green Sun.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not privy to your secrets. It was on the IntraNex. A few bytes. Minimal prelim from the Constabulary. No surprise. Amateurs. You are Green Sun. Yes? Look, kid, I know it’s a violation of the creed to tell a stranger, but you wouldn’t be here if they were still your best option.”
“OK. Yes. I’m Green Sun.”
“Good. Progress. So, you were shot last night and yet here you are, the epitome of good health. Were you killed?”
Ryllen couldn’t fathom the nonchalance of the question.
“Yes. Twice. I think.”
“Ah. There you go then. Matter resolved. I can imagine what might be on your memglass. I’ll crack the code if you want, but I know exactly what you are, kid. If you’ve been paying any attention at all the past six years, you should already know, too.”
“Wait. Are you saying I’m one of them? Those crazies on Aeterna?”
“Hmm. Don’t know about crazy, but they are immortal. That much appears certain. And so are you, kid. Congratulations.”
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 163
