The Simmering Seas Page 16

  “Intriguing. What is your central premise?”

  “I’d rather not divulge details while my team is finalizing the proposal. But I will say this: Our focus is miniaturization.”

  She grunted. “We’ve always tended to scale up. If you’re interested in such a radical approach, I assume we’re far from considering budgetary or contractual terms, especially as regards our DSC. Yes?”

  “Correct. This will be an exercise in theory and design of energy tunnel mechanics. Pure science, free of the shackles of business.”

  Chin Sun thought the idea hilarious. “Come now, Miss Syung, can science and business ever be differentiated?”

  “Not often, I’ll admit. Profit motive drives every engine. But I think my engineers and yours will appreciate the diversion.”

  “Agreed. How soon might you wish to visit?”

  “I was hoping to fly over on Daselin.”

  Chin Sun raised a brow. “Two days? Extremely short notice.”

  “I understand, but we’re quite excited about our ideas. And perhaps you’ve heard, but I’m to be married in a few days. I’m eager to take this meeting before then.”

  “Congratulations. I wasn’t aware of your nuptials. To be honest, Miss Syung, I don’t follow the Pinchon social calendar. I grew up on the edges of Haansu, and I’ve not set foot in the city for fifty years. Please, take no offense. The home island is not for every Hokki.”

  “None taken. And trust me, I know its shortcomings as well as anyone. I rarely leave our island, so a few hours on Mangum will be therapy for my anxiety. Is Daselin possible?”

  Her smile vanished. “No. HCC conducts no off-island business on Daselins. Our Honorable Chairman, Sho Parke, started the tradition several years ago. He asks his employees to spend the day celebrating with their families in the affiliate village. We close our doors on Daselin even at the expense of delaying product shipment.”

  Kara reeled. How did she not know about this? A weekly shutdown?

  “Interesting ritual. I guess some things can override profit motive.”

  “Yes. The bonds of family. The heart of the Hokki essence.”

  Kara didn’t have time or desire to debate what “family” looked like in her experience. She had few days to play with, and if Chin Sun pushed her too close to the wedding …

  “I am still quite eager,” Kara said. “Do you have …”

  “Not to worry, Miss Syung. Can your team prepare a proposal for tomorrow? I have a window as the sun slips on. My last of the day.”

  Unexpected, but what choice did she have? Would everyone else in her new alliance be able to pull themselves together in time?

  “Yes, Honorable Miss Tyce. Please.”

  “But of course. I’ll send an upshot from my calendar to your comm and notify my team. They’ll be intrigued. Any other questions, Kara?”

  Chin Sun took the Senior Prerogative and dropped honorifics, giving Kara permission to follow suit.

  “Actually, Chin Sun, there are two matters. Questions, really. I was wondering whether we might have time to tour HCC? It’s such a revered institution, and I don’t know when I’ll next visit.”

  “Done. In fact, if you’re still here at sunset, I’d love to show you the high portico on the east face. A Mangum sunset, especially with rings at perfect declination, is unforgettable. Your second matter?”

  This one was unnecessary, but Kara felt worth the risk.

  “I’m curious if you ever worked directly with anyone in my family? Syung-Low has played a large role at Nantou for generations.”

  Chin Sun leaned back and fell into contemplation.

  “I’m sure I have from time to time. Mostly through interisland comm, I would think. I’d have to review my records.”

  “I was thinking specifically about my brother, Lang. He was working interisland liaison for Nantou. He died three years ago.”

  “Oh, Kara. So sorry to hear. No. I never met your brother. There are many islands, after all, and I’m sure Nantou has an army of IL reps. Perhaps Lang never visited Mangum. Yes? Anything else I can do for you today?”

  Paranoia suggested Chin Sun’s response was too quick and dismissive. Kara maintained a grateful smile.

  “You have done more than I could have hoped,” she said. “I’ll be honored to meet you in person tomorrow.”

  After she broke comm, Kara came to the most obvious conclusion: That was too easy, despite the rough start.

  Chin Sun was too gracious, her flexibility defying HCC’s ageless reputation as difficult and demanding of its clients.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Kara mumbled to herself. “I won’t need long there. Smile and finish the mission.”

  And hope her new allies handled the nasty bits. She’d see them in an hour, assuming Ryllen Jee upheld his end of the deal.

  The hard part of today’s gambit was about to begin.

  20

  K ARA NEVER BOUGHT INTO the Rule of Silence. At an early age, she defied the traditional family dynamic which dictated the youngest child must hold one’s lip until granted direct permission to speak. She was seven, sitting on her Gran Enna Syung’s lap in a room where three generations and cousins gathered. The conversation was lively, the talk a blend of politics, Collectorate business, and old-fashioned recipes for baked Kohlna. She ended her quiet pouting to announce to everyone how she intended to float among the Kye-Do rings someday. The result? A few awkward chuckles and a stern rebuke from her parents. Gran Enna saved the day.

  “You are very ambitious, child,” she said, running a hand through Kara’s long hair. “I am jealous. I have thought about a trip to the rings since I was a little girl, but I’ve never had the courage to leave Pinchon.” Enna turned to Perr and Li-Ann Syung. “I think it would make a nice birthday present. I hope my granddaughter will have an opportunity to fulfill her dream. Yes?”

  Kara didn’t know at the time, but Enna was not making a suggestion, and protocol demanded Perr, her only son, see it through. Ten months later, while Kara was being lowered amid the acenomite rocks of Kye-Do, her grandmother stayed home, watching a live transmission. Only in the last year of her life did Enna confess the truth to Kara: The first man she ever loved, weeks away from the altar, died in an orbital accident. Space was forbidden to her.

  “You are a stronger woman,” she told Kara. “You will never be paralyzed by fear. Establish a legacy of your own. Allow no man or Hokki pride to compromise your path.”

  Those words echoed every time Kara hesitated, but this day proved the greatest challenge as she prepared to compromise every principle of Hokki honor. She was stepping into the ring with a killer, a Chancellor, and their many accomplices. If everything worked to perfection, she’d soon be known as a traitor to her family – the worst kind of Hokki shame. And if Kara failed? She’d be a dead traitor, never eligible for redemption.

  “It’s not too late to stand down and hope for the best,” Chi-Qua said before breakfast. “You won’t have a chance to be a hero, but maybe someone else will be.”

  “Right. I hear the volunteers are lining up outside the Lagos Hall of Defenders.”

  “People are scared to speak the truth that’s all around them. Everybody hopes someone else will carry the load. They want a martyr. You don’t have to be the one, Kara.”

  “My brother wouldn’t agree. Lang thought I was strong enough to take this on. He told me to be a soldier. Sometimes, soldiers don’t survive the war. But the truth they fight for? It can still be won.”

  “Noble ideas, Kara. My family saw first-hand what Hokki nobility looks like.”

  Kara didn’t like the sudden shift in tone.

  “You’re scared, Chi. Me, too. But you’ve been with me from the start. Can I count on you?”

  Chi-Qua shrugged. “I don’t exactly have a waiting list of options.”

  Or time.

  Kara sensed it. Three years of stumbling about in the darkness earned her this sudden break in fortune. Pass up this opportunity, no matter the
danger, and another wasn’t likely to appear.

  No more silence.

  Those words invited Kara into a string of deceptions, starting with her disguise as a doll walking the streets of Zozo. Today’s tactic? Misdirection. After notifying her project team of their expedited timetable – Geo Laan fell into full-on panic at the news – Kara told everyone she was leaving for lunch with her bridesmaids.

  An obligation, she insisted. Comm on mute for two hours, she moaned, as if the event would be tortuous.

  If these engineers met her oldest Haansu “friends,” they’d have understood. The four women who Kara chose months ago orbited her life since Year One at Vox School for Girls. Sweet and refined, yet equally vacuous and bedazzled by shiny things. Two were already married into leveraged household partnerships; the other two trolled the city’s vibrant night scene, holding onto their liberation until impatient parents forced them to fulfill a duty.

  They were loud, indiscreet, and ecstatic at the sudden change in Kara’s wedding plans. This made Chi-Qua’s life more difficult, as she’d been given the job of entertaining them and reviewing the timetable until Kara made a fleeting appearance.

  They met at Mina’s Garden, a tony restaurant camouflaged by a thick landscape of bullabast and palm trees at the center of Bansai, the city’s art district. Kara came by public hopper rather than her personal sedan, which remained in Nantou’s parking lodge.

  Her “friends” were well into their third bottle of wine when she arrived. Each waved with the enthusiasm of schoolgirls who hadn’t seen each other since before the weekend. Chi-Qua, on the other hand, offered a steely glare which required no words. Kara wasn’t going to hear the end of this.

  “Apologies, Honored Friends,” she told them. “Work is frantic today. I hope to stay awhile and catch up, but I have to be honest: I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “We understand,” said Cho Brin, the longest married of the lot. “Chi-Qua told us everything. You and your career.”

  “Well,” added Shia Loo, who partied in the city every night, “Kara was voted most likely to slave for a seamaster.” She kissed the bride’s hand when Kara sat next to her. “But Ya-Li Taron? Oh, he is so going to be your slave. He’s a beautiful creature, no doubt. But what a puppet. I’ll never be so lucky. I envy you.”

  “Please don’t, Shia. We rarely marry for love. I’m no exception.”

  Cho nodded. “But we’ll celebrate as if we do.” She raised a long-fluted glass. “To the inevitable. To Honored Kara Syung. Or should I say Taron? Will you change?”

  “Good question, Cho. We were negotiating months ago, but we never resolved it. I’ll have to ask. I’m not fond of hyphens.”

  “Plus, you’ll be sharing a bed with one. No sense complicating the matter. Like the job. I assume you’ll resign from Nantou?”

  That came up faster than she predicted.

  “Why? To spend my time making babies for the House of Taron?”

  “To do your duty.”

  “Duty, Cho? To Haansu or to Hokkaido? The Syungs and Tarons want for nothing, and nothing will change if I need a little extra time giving Ya-Li an heir.”

  Cho shaded her eyes. “My sincerest apology. I never meant to offend. I just assumed …”

  Kara grabbed her hand. “No offense given. Duty takes many forms, as does happiness. My Honorable Gran Enna spoke often of these things. And who’s to say I won’t love Ya-Li over time?”

  The conversation went no deeper and soon turned to matters so frivolous Kara put them out of her mind the instant they passed. Chi-Qua said little, maintaining a subservient half-smile as the five old “friends” wound their way through childhood nostalgia. Kara read Chi-Qua’s mind; her only true friend should have been among the wedding party, standing next to her as rings were exchanged. Social refinery destroyed that prospect.

  How do you endure? Kara thought. How do you hold your smile?

  Chi-Qua was almost four years into a ten-year commitment as Kara’s PA, with a non-binding “promise” to rehabilitate the Baek name at its end. Kara’s parents set the conditions; no one would be shocked if they reneged after learning of their daughter’s betrayal. Would they destroy the Baeks out of spite? The notion terrified Kara.

  Twenty minutes and half a glass of wine later, Kara’s lunch cut short.

  The restaurant steward, a petite man with a yellow bowtie, leaned in and spoke in a pillow-soft voice.

  “Honored Miss Syung, I have a gentleman named Mr. Loomis who begs your immediate attention.”

  The right signal. Kara feigned exasperation.

  “I told the office not to communicate while I was at luncheon.”

  “Mr. Loomis does apologize, but he says the matter was discussed yesterday and has only now come to fruition. Your action is required.”

  “I see. And where is Mr. Loomis now?”

  He motioned beyond the dining room. “The west atrium.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to her bridesmaids and Chi-Qua. “I was afraid this might happen, but I did give you fair warning. I’ll see to Mr. Loomis, but I suspect I’ll need to leave with him. We’ll see each other again on Yeodlin. Yes?”

  She whispered to Chi-Qua on the way out.

  “Survive them another half hour then say your good-byes.” She blew an air kiss and concluded with a sure-fire way to keep the bridesmaids in line. “This is on me. The bill has already been taken care of.”

  Once inside the west atrium, where songbirds chirped from elaborate cages, Kara glanced at her hand-comm. A simple message:

  Straight ahead. Sharp left to service exit.

  She stepped out onto the loading dock. To her left, the staff parking lodge filled with rifters and personal sedans. To her right, a public hopper hovered a foot off the ground, its rear passenger gate open.

  “Here we go,” she muttered and stepped onboard.

  Hamilton Cortez acknowledged her with a faint nod, while Ryllen Jee, manning the forward navigation swivel, offered a thumbs-up.

  “Hi, ya.”

  Ryllen closed the gate, and Kara took a seat.

  “Where are we going?” She asked.

  “Sorry,” the braided one replied. “Not allowed to answer. It’s for your safety.”

  The hopper fired its Carbedyne nacelles and lifted graciously up and around the parking lodge, taking the back-street exit. She scanned the vehicle and detected the hint of a familiar smell.

  “Is this the same hopper as the other night?” She asked Ham.

  “It is.”

  “Strange coincidence.”

  “It’s a decommissioned model. I have a special arrangement.”

  Ryllen chuckled. “Specifically, he uses it whenever he wants.”

  “I assume you’re Mr. Loomis?”

  Ham shifted with unease. “You did ask for my Chancellor name when we last met. Loomis. I was born Nathaniel Loomis in a city once known as New Stockholm.”

  “Once known?”

  “Most of it was destroyed by a tidal wave when SkyTower fell in 5355. The rest was obliterated toward the end of the Earth war.”

  “I’m sorry. You had family there?”

  “No, and it’s not relevant. I told you because you asked. A certain conciliation seemed in order after my deception at Mal’s Drop.”

  “Ah. You mean the one where you almost got us killed?”

  “You know what they say about appearances. Yes?”

  “I see. All the laser fire and you shooting Ryllen through the heart … that was what? An illusion?”

  He winked. “Details of no consequence. We’re here, thanks in large measure to RJ overstepping his bounds.” The young killer turned both thumbs up. “We’re here because we have need of each other, and because you made a tactical error at Mal’s Drop. You assumed the quest for information went one way. It never occurred to you that I might also be on the hunt for answers. And the name … now and to my last breath … is Hamilton Cortez.”

  “You might dress Hokki,” she
said, “but you have all the arrogance of a pure-blood Chancellor.”

  “To my everlasting regret.”

  “And you,” she told the driver. “You prefer RJ?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever suits.”

  Back to Cortez. “RJ told me how you planted bleeders on us at Mal’s Drop. So yes, I knew you were searching for answers. It’s the only reason I’m here. I believed RJ when he said we might have a shared interest. But here’s the sticking point, Ham. I have no intention of going through with this alliance until I know everyone’s motivation. You already know why I’m here, and RJ told me of his crusade. Why are you willing to help? Tell me, Ham. Why are you here?”

  He scratched at his beard and looked outside as the city passed by in a blur. Kara wondered whether he anticipated the question. Had he devised a lie? Was he now reconsidering?

  “Kara,” he said. “Do you know why I dress this way?”

  She scanned his Sak’ne suit. “To be a walking history lesson?”

  “Witty. I wear a Sak’ne because I want to be comfortable. I’ve never worn anything as soft and breathable. If I resemble an ancient Korean priest, all the more interesting.”

  “Your point?”

  “I ensconced myself in Zozo years ago because I felt comfortable. They called me a Randall twice a week, but I brushed it off if no one tried to kill me over it. And I’m comfortable. Or I was. Over the last year, I’ve seen emerging patterns, both on Hokkaido and beyond. A misshapen puzzle. I’m uncomfortable. One might even say I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  His sly grin suggested she was a fool for not knowing the answer.

  “What? No, Kara. Whom. I fear the Chancellors, of course.”

  21

  T HE ANSWER THREW KARA. What kind of psychological nonsense was he about to dish? The Chancellors’ empire died eight years ago, and their leadership was largely destroyed in the Earth war.

  “The Collectorate is a relic of history,” she said. “The only Chancellors living outside the Earth system, to my knowledge, are rogues like you. And let’s face it: The Chancellors were only as powerful as the peacekeepers they deployed. They have no army, Ham. Why would anyone fear them?”