Hokkaido wasn’t Ryl en’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 fil ed out the chair. Boetha adjusted the machine and brought down the phasic tools, positioning them strategical y 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. “Wil you finish before Ascension?”
“My art is precise but also fast. You’l have twenty minutes to spare.”
“Perfect. Take good care of him, Boetha. I’l 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. Wil it hurt?”
“No. You’l 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 smal er 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 tel you about me?”
“I’m a contractor, RJ. I stay on the healthy perimeter. I know only enough to know nothing at al .”
“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, al of them.
The Chancel ors, 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 Chancel ors? I assume they paid wel .”
“Wel 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 al ow 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.
“Al 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 al ey.
“Oh, we had a few words. That’s usual y 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
