They shared a laugh in the awkward moment, though Ryllen never forgot it. He hadn’t seen Mei since the night in Umkau when he joined Green Sun. He understood Kai’s temptation, but his strange chemistry with Mei unnerved Ryllen.
Now, an hour after Kai announced they’d soon be killing people, Ryllen undressed and fell into bed. He didn’t realize how exhausted the shipboard excursion left him; plus, Kai suggested they’d best rest up. The night was bound to be long – especially if Lan Chua announced more than a new phase in their silent war.
“Do you want me?” Kai said, standing in the doorway. “If you need to be alone, I’ll deal.”
Kai’s crooked smile implied only one possible response, so Ryllen slapped the pillow by his side. Kai joined him.
“Thanks for being honest with me,” Ryllen said. “I knew we’d be dealing in blood eventually. But it’s been five months, and I’d gotten used to our tactics. I thought they were effective.”
“They are. Just not enough.” He kissed Ryllen. “We won’t be executioners. We’ll be killing invaders. Self-defense.”
Ryllen winced. These immos came for new opportunities lost to them on the continent, few if any armed for battle. Yet that word – invaders – was becoming the de facto label Green Sun used to justify its actions.
“I know you still have concerns,” Kai continued. “But they’re not innocent, RJ. If we give them space to organize, they’ll form an army of their own. We’ll have blood in the streets of Pinchon.”
“I know,” Ryllen whispered. “By then, it’ll be too late.”
“Yes, it will …”
The flashing glow on Ryllen’s left wrist shut down the conversation. His bicomm signaled an incoming call. He reached for the device, which was melded to his skin, but Kai grabbed his arm.
“Careful. Who could it be?”
“I only have four codes. Yours and three others. They’re safe, Kai.”
“If you say so.”
He pressed the receptor and gasped when the holographic image of his caller rose six inches above his wrist.
“Mother?”
Muna-Lin Jee, all five feet of her dressed in a permanent uniform of black and blue, crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ryllen, I request a visit. One hour.”
“Mother, how are you able to call my bicomm?”
“Your brother gifted me a device. He thought I might take some pleasure. Also, I have your gene code.”
The bicomms spread in popularity after the new tech arrived on Hokkaido two years earlier, but Green Sun approached it with caution, fearing hackers might override the device’s delicate genetic linking protocol. If it became an effective tracking tool, the silent army might find itself in unfortunate crosshairs.
“This is not a good day, Mother. What is so important for …”
“Is he there with you?” She asked. “Kai Durin?”
Ryllen muted the receptor and faced Kai.
“I never told her about you.”
“So, she snoops, just like everybody’s mother. Say hello for me.”
He unmuted. “Kai says he is honored to meet you. He hopes one day to share a table.”
“No, he does not. Ryllen, I know who he is and what he does. I also know what you do. We must talk.”
“Why? I’ve done fine for myself the past seven months, and you never showed an interest. Why meet with you now?”
“Because I have asked nothing else of you. We will talk. You will leave. And you will go back to him.”
“What about the others? Will they be …?”
“No. Your sisters and brother will not be here. They have jobs.”
Kai looked away. “Cold.”
“Tell me this will change my life, Mother, or I won’t see you.”
She nodded with certainty. “Every question you ever asked, I intend to answer. But only today, and only in one hour. Goodbye.”
Muna-Lin broke the connection. Her hologram disappeared.
“Well?” Kai asked.
“Not an hour after I step off the ship. It’s no coincidence.”
“You might be right, but I think you’d best see her, RJ.”
“I don’t care what she says, Kai. I won’t go back. I promise.”
“Only promise what you’re sure you’ll keep. She’s your mother.”
Ryllen threw back the covers and reached for his pants.
“No, Kai. She’s not.”
Muna-Lin lived less than a kilometer away in one of the island’s largest residential high-rises. Fifth level. Family suite.
Ryllen hated this building almost as much as the people. From day one, after the family left its Haansu mansion in shame and moved here with heads fallen and eyes shaded, Muna-Lin insisted their neighbors would come around to acceptance. What was more foolish? He wondered. Muna-Lin’s blind faith in community or Ryllen’s assumption his family wouldn’t hold him responsible for Father’s collapse and death?
As promised, his adoptive siblings were not home. He didn’t want a rematch of their last encounter. The vulgarities. The accusations.
He found Muna-Lin waiting for him on the balcony.
She sat on a pillow, her legs crossed, at the far end of a low table sculpted from the colossal trunk of an ancient shingo tree. She bowed her head in meditation. In front of her, a full cup of tea rested upon a saucer. At opposite end, a sky-blue pillow awaited Ryllen; on the table, a silver plate with his favorite treat and a cup of tea beckoned.
“Why am I here?” He asked, but her eyes remained shaded.
“Sit. Eat.”
As much as he wanted quick resolution, Ryllen fell for his mother’s predictable trap. The silver plate featured a Maylish braid, which was a knotted ring blending succulent ocean strips from the six-armed F’heldabeast, drifting sea cabbage, and yellow crab. Inside the braid, a dipping bowl featured a mango-pepper chutney. Ryllen held this culinary wonder above all others. Muna Lin knew his weakness.
He took a seat but hesitated to tear apart the braid.
“Is this her recipe?” He asked.
“Honorable Mother
