In the Shadow of the Rings by Frank Kennedy (grave mercy .txt) 📕

The rest of the message included the time and location.

Ryllen spent the day in an emotional frenzy, each eighty-minute hour dragging without mercy. He laid out a ful -proof plan to arrive early, charted the simplest course, picked out a suit from among Kai’s ensemble, and refined the accents in his braids the way Kai showed him. Natural y, because the universe had no use for idiots,

Ryllen jumped into his rifter and discovered an ignition failure.

He needed forty minutes to repair the system, just enough to set him into a war against time and traffic.

Dodging larger vehicles without incurring FD detection, Ryllen al owed anxiety to cloud judgment. No chance he’d make the rendezvous in time at this rate. If he left the UpWay at an early OutPass and hit the flat lanes too soon, he might encounter stifling congestion among slower, more cautious ground traffic – not to mention burgeoning crowds fil ing the streets for Ascension festivals.

Soon, the city’s domes and curvaceous glass towers rose on either side of the UpWay. He was passing the expansive corporate cluster, where the offices of Hokkaido’s greatest seamasters demonstrated their economic might. Far to the south, his destination awaited.

Suddenly, he entertained an absurd notion.

Maybe …

He grabbed the rifter’s steering arms and prepared to take a chance.

“I’m not moving back in with Mother.”

He nose-dived into OutPass 10. The binding fields drew him onto Nantou Boulevard. The key was knowing how to time his violation of the city’s traffic laws. If he was right, the streets within the corporate cluster would be more open. The seamasters would have al owed their employees off early to join families and festivals. Al he had to do was know when to accelerate and leave the proximity police helpless.

“OK, RJ,” he whispered between heaving breaths. “You wanna be a criminal? Show Green Sun what you can do.”

He programmed his guidance web for maneuvers he wasn’t sure the rifter could handle. The instant his machine hit street level, he took stock. Motorized luxury carriages – the wheeled variety – and a few proximity police drones fil ed his view along with a smattering of citizens crossing the narrow streets. The titanic headquarters of the seamasters blocked out the sun, the moon, and the rings.

The guidance web leaped into a hologram and showed him the fastest route through the business district. If this worked, he’d cut his time in half – stil , no guarantees of making the introduction to Lan Chua. One way or the other, this was nuts.

At the first intersection, Ryl en turned off velocity controls, dropped

his steering arms in a suicidal maneuver, and al owed the guidance web to do the rest. He held tight as the rifter rocketed skyward paral el to the headquarters of Nantou Global. Forty floors high, the rifter banked hard left, skirted within ten meters of Nantou’s glass façade, banked right at the tower’s northeast corner and chased south toward the destination.

Ryllen heard the klaxons of the proximity police drones. His gambit rested on the unqualified assumption the drones had neither the velocity nor legal standing to pursue him. However, if they backed off from the chase too soon, their retreat might signal a greater problem: namely, that anti-terrorist laser beacons were being unleashed to bring him down. These nasty buggers were rarely seen – like rooftop snipers – and known only to have been fired from the corporate towers twice in the past ten years.

Were they effective? No one ever talked on the record, and any

“debris” was cleaned away before the public stumbled upon it. Yet the law was explicit: Any private or commercial vehicle flying more than one hundred meters high or beyond velocity limits without ITD

clearance was subject to immediate retaliation by Pinchon’s automated defense shield. Ryl en knew the law by heart – he was tested on the regulations before receiving his personal-vehicle license. If he survived this stupidity, he would save nine minutes.

After a fourth hard bank, the rifter emerged from the corporate cluster unscathed, though gravity’s whiplash left Ryllen feeling sick al over. Stil , he smiled.

Dead ahead, the Port of Pinchon. Beyond it, the great isthmus leading outward to the Point of the Redeemer. Hundreds of ships bringing great cargos of Kohlna fish, Kanteemi cabbage, and other jewels of the sea to feed and heal a world of two bil ion.

Al he had to do was dive down to street level at the port’s main entrance, lock the rifter inside the binding fields, and pilot at casual speed to Quay 95. Set down quietly, casual y strol up to the loading gate of the ship Quantum Majesty then wait for Lan Chua to emerge as Kai promised. The hard part, at least, seemed over.

Ryllen locked inside the elevated transport field and plotted his destination into the guidance web. He was two minutes out.

Good. A minute to spare ahead of the rendezvous time.

Sound and fury escorted him down the homestretch as crews offloaded and gathered at festival tents. Smoke wafted from long gril s