June 6, 2440 9:24 PM
By half past nine, the reception at Hotel Hiro had acquired exactly the mixture of people it was supposed to.
Nobody had come to sign anything.
Nobody was announcing anything.
W’ren Th’ron had come down from orbit around lunchtime. K’rem T’all had come in from Missouri. They had spent most of the afternoon in Chiba at the temporary V’ren embassy site, meeting the SDF and V’ren Trust personnel already working there.
Some of those people had previously been names on reports.
Others had been faces in video windows.
Tonight there were drinks.
That was progress.
Tomorrow the two-day SDF recruiting event would begin at Haneda.
The government meetings were still ahead.
Tonight was introductions.
Trust staff, SDF personnel, V’ren flight people, pages, administrators, a scattering of T’monn’s Japanese medical contacts, human staff, V’ren staff and enough reporters to ensure nothing particularly stupid could happen privately.
The youth group had been given a simple assignment.
Circulate.
If someone from the SDF or Trust was standing by themselves, fix it.
If someone had clearly arrived knowing only two people in the room, introduce them to a third.
Nobody important was supposed to spend the evening holding a cocktail alone because everyone assumed somebody else was taking care of them.
It was page work on a larger scale.
Which was why MJ Reyes was already irritated with Kevin Wood.
He looked immaculate.
Fresh SDF uniform.
Hair neat.
Shoes polished.
Fourteen years old and carrying himself as though he had spent the day reviewing flight manuals instead of vanishing into Tokyo.
Rita Ashbury-Singh looked him up and down.
“No.”
Kevin glanced at her.
“No what?”
“That.”
“What?”
“You do not get to disappear all day and then show up looking responsible.”
“I took the day off.”
MJ folded her arms.
“For charity work.”
“Yes.”
“That remains the only thing you have told us.”
“It remains true.”
Y’kem T’all had already stopped caring.
He was studying the food.
Maja arrived behind them.
Kevin looked at her.
Then looked again.
Her bangs were violently purple.
He stared.
Maja smiled.
“Well?”
“You look radioactive.”
“Thank you.”
Rita turned.
“Oh, fuck.”
MJ looked at her.
“What?”
Rita pointed at Maja.
“When did that happen?”
“Lunch.”
“Why?”
“I wanted purple bangs.”
Kevin nodded.
“That is at least a better explanation than charity work.”
Maja looked at him.
“Speaking of that.”
Kevin immediately regretted speaking.
“What?”
Maja’s grin widened.
“Husbando.”
Kevin closed his eyes.
MJ turned toward him.
“What?”
Rita said, “What did she call you?”
“Husbando,” Maja repeated.
Y’kem looked away from the food.
Now he cared.
Kevin opened his eyes.
“I hate you.”
Maja laughed.
“You went missing for ten hours because you were modeling in Harajuku.”
MJ stared at Kevin.
Rita stared harder.
Kevin said nothing.
Maja continued.
“Six outfits.”
“Six?”
“Ballroom dancing.”
Rita’s mouth opened.
“Ziggy Stardust.”
MJ started laughing.
“And schoolgirls chased him down the street yelling ‘Husbando.’”
“I was not chased.”
Maja pulled out her phone.
“There is video.”
Kevin pointed at her.
“You have purple hair.”
“That is not a defense.”
Chem Corvos appeared in a NEOKAWA dress just in time to catch the end.
The youth-group members who were not working the reception as SDF cadets had been dressed by NEOKAWA in modern formal dresses built around kimono cuts, long clean lines, wrapped construction, structured collars, Japanese without pretending to be ceremonial kimono.
Chem looked from Kevin to Maja.
“What happened?”
“Kevin became a fashion model.”
“I already knew that.”
Kevin stared at her.
“You knew?”
“People at the neko café showed me.”
Maja laughed harder.
Kevin looked betrayed.
Chem added, “The Ziggy one was good.”
“Thank you.”
“The girls yelling at you were better.”
Kevin turned away.
Maja called after him.
“Husbando.”
“Fuck off, Marshall.”
Maja stopped smiling.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Kevin noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Before he could ask again, one of the Trust staff came through the doors.
“They’re coming up.”
Kevin straightened automatically.
So did Rita.
MJ handed her drink to a passing page.
Y’kem abandoned the food.
The joke vanished beneath training.
### 9:31 PM
W’ren Th’ron entered beside K’rem T’all.
Neither man made an entrance out of it.
That was probably why everyone noticed.
The SDF cadets greeted them first.
Kevin.
MJ.
Rita.
Y’kem.
Then the others.
W’ren had spent enough time speaking with some of the senior SDF people through video that their greetings already had familiarity in them.
Others were genuinely first meetings.
K’rem recognized one human staff officer before the man had finished saying his name.
“You are taller than your screen.”
The officer laughed.
“You are exactly the same height.”
“That seems unfair.”
The line loosened almost immediately.
No ceremony followed.
That was intentional.
W’ren looked at the four young pilots.
“You have been busy.”
Kevin answered.
“Yes, sir.”
W’ren looked at Rita.
“Flying?”
“Yes.”
MJ.
“Yes.”
Y’kem.
“Yes.”
Then Kevin.
Kevin paused.
“Not today.”
K’rem looked interested.
“What did you do?”
“Charity work.”
Behind him Maja made a noise.
Kevin did not turn around.
K’rem nodded.
“Useful?”
“Yes.”
“Then good.”
Maja whispered to Rita:
“He has no idea.”
Kevin heard her.
“Stop.”
W’ren’s attention moved to Maja.
The purple bangs were difficult to avoid.
“That is new.”
“Yes.”
He considered them.
“Very purple.”
“That was the instruction.”
“Successful, then.”
Maja grinned.
“Thank you.”
### 9:37 PM
The room spread out again.
That was when the reporters began finding stories that had nothing to do with whatever W’ren and K’rem might eventually discuss with Japanese officials.
A Tokyo television reporter recognized Rita first.
“You were in Yokohama.”
Rita turned.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“That narrows it down.”
The reporter smiled and held up a tablet.
A photograph showed a T-48 at the waterfront.
Not one of the dramatic pictures.
Just people, cargo, concrete and an enormous shuttle resting on its nacelle runners.
Rita was visible near the cockpit access.
Another image showed flight personnel near a second shuttle.
MJ was in that one.
Y’kem too.
The reporter looked between them.
“Several flight crews were photographed operating there this afternoon.”
“Yes,” Rita said.
“How many shuttles?”
Rita smiled politely.
“You should ask Marmaduke Logistics.”
“Were you flying?”
“Yes.”
“What were you carrying?”
“Cargo.”
The reporter looked at MJ.
“You too?”
MJ nodded.
“Yes.”
“What cargo?”
“Equipment.”
Y’kem added:
“We are cargo pilots.”
“That sounded rehearsed.”
Y’kem looked puzzled.
“It is our job.”
The reporter laughed.
“Was this SDF work?”
MJ shook her head.
“No.”
“V’ren Trust?”
“No.”
“Marmaduke Logistics?”
“Yes.”
That was comfortably true.
“And what is happening at the Yokohama site?”
MJ smiled.
“You should ask Marmaduke Logistics.”
Rita pointed at her.
“That is what I said.”
“Because it was a good answer.”
The reporter looked at Y’kem.
He had already returned to the buffet.
Apparently the interview was over.
### 9:42 PM
The first reporter to reach W’ren asked about Chiba.
“Captain Th’ron, you arrived in Japan today?”
“Yes.”
“From your ship?”
“Yes.”
“And Captain T’all arrived from Missouri?”
K’rem nodded.
“Yes.”
“You both spent the afternoon at the temporary embassy.”
“Yes.”
“What was accomplished?”
W’ren took a drink.
“We met people.”
The reporter waited.
W’ren waited too.
“Anything more specific?”
“Some I had spoken with for weeks. Some I had never met.”
“SDF staff?”
“Yes.”
“V’ren Trust?”
“Yes.”
“Preparations for tomorrow’s recruiting event?”
“Some of the people we met will be there.”
“How many Japanese recruits do you expect?”
“I do not know.”
“Surely you have projections.”
“Other people have projections.”
“And you?”
W’ren smiled slightly.
“I intend to meet whoever comes.”
The reporter changed direction.
“You have also spoken with Japanese government officials by video.”
“Yes.”
“And will meet some of them in person during this visit.”
“Yes.”
“What do you hope to accomplish?”
“To meet them in person.”
The reporter laughed.
“That cannot be all.”
“It is all I am saying tonight.”
Across the room K’rem was doing no better for another journalist.
“Captain T’all, are you optimistic about the government discussions?”
“I am interested in them.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“What are you hoping to hear?”
“People are usually more interesting when they are sitting in the same room.”
“You have already spoken with them by video.”
“Yes.”
“So why does meeting face-to-face matter?”
K’rem lifted his glass.
“We have never had a drink together.”
The journalist smiled.
“Is that important?”
“Sometimes.”
### 9:47 PM
Maja was doing what the youth group had actually been brought downstairs to do.
She saw a young SDF staff member standing beside a column with nobody talking to him.
She went over.
“Hi.”
He looked at her.
Then at the purple bangs.
Then back at her face.
“Marshall Maja.”
Maja blinked.
“Okay. That is happening now.”
He smiled.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Number nineteen.”
MJ happened to be passing.
She stopped.
“Nineteen what?”
Maja looked at her.
“Mount Doom.”
MJ stared.
“The skate thing?”
“It is not a skate thing.”
“It is obviously a skate thing.”
The SDF man looked delighted to explain.
“The Mount Doom A-frame.”
MJ looked at Maja.
“You got on the board?”
“Yes.”
“What number?”
“Nineteen.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
MJ looked at the purple bangs.
“That was before the hair?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not tell us.”
“I have been busy.”
Kevin approached at exactly the wrong time.
MJ pointed at him.
“And he spent the day becoming a fashion prince.”
Kevin looked at Maja.
“You told them.”
“You called me Marshall.”
“That is your name.”
Maja grinned.
“Exactly.”
A nearby reporter heard enough to turn.
“Marshall Maja?”
Maja’s expression changed.
“Oh, shit.”
The reporter approached.
“You completed Mount Doom today?”
“Yes.”
“Full run?”
“Yes.”
“Five hundred sixty-nine feet?”
“Yes.”
MJ looked at her.
“Five hundred what?”
“Later.”
“No more later.”
The reporter continued.
“Three hundred twenty-six feet of elevation?”
“Yes.”
“And Yamamoto Sukeatsu put your name on the board?”
“Yes.”
“Number nineteen.”
Maja nodded.
The reporter smiled.
“He apparently won a substantial wager.”
Maja groaned.
“Oh, everyone knows that too.”
Kevin looked interested.
“What wager?”
“Fifteen hundred fiat.”
“That does not sound substantial.”
“At one thousand to one.”
Kevin stopped.
Rita did the arithmetic first.
“One and a half million.”
Maja nodded.
“He owes me lunch.”
Kevin stared at her.
“You made someone a millionaire before breakfast.”
“Technically he made himself a millionaire.”
The reporter added:
“Yamamoto also told local skate media that Matthew Marmaduke attempted the course years ago.”
MJ looked at Maja.
Maja grinned.
“Oh, that part is good.”
### 9:55 PM
The reception had become pleasantly unmanageable.
Chem was explaining Derpy to an SDF logistics officer.
D’stan had found someone who read *The Grey Shogun*.
Sael was talking clothes with a Trust employee.
Kevin was being carefully stalked by two reporters who had just connected the clean-cut cadet in uniform with the Harajuku photographs being shared on every fashion feed in Tokyo.
He tried to move.
One caught him.
“Mr. Wood.”
Kevin stopped.
“Yes?”
“Grey Shogun?”
“No.”
The reporter smiled.
“The Viví photographs are unmistakable.”
“I was there.”
“So you confirm it.”
“I have not denied being in Harajuku.”
“And the Harajuku Creators Fund receives all profits?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Kevin looked genuinely puzzled by the question.
“Because it is their community.”
The reporter waited.
Kevin apparently believed he had finished answering.
“You did six complete looks.”
“Yes.”
“Your favorite?”
“The Ziggy set was fun.”
Maja called from across the room:
“HUSBANDO!”
Kevin’s eyes closed.
The reporter nearly dropped his recorder laughing.
“Was that also part of the charity project?”
“No.”
Maja added:
“Viral cultural outreach.”
Kevin turned.
“I will tell people about Mount Doom.”
“They already know.”
“That is deeply unfortunate.”
### 10:04 PM
The Yokohama photographs had begun circulating through the reception too.
Not because anything dramatic had happened.
Because there had been too many shuttles for people not to notice.
Flight crews seen earlier at the waterfront were now drinking at Hotel Hiro.
Several human pilots.
Several V’ren.
Rita.
Others attached to Marmaduke Logistics.
A Japanese journalist showed one V’ren crewman a photograph.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing?”
“Flying.”
“What was in the shuttle?”
“Things that needed to be in Yokohama.”
The journalist laughed.
“Everyone here has learned this trick.”
“What trick?”
“Answering accurately without telling me anything.”
The pilot thought about it.
“That sounds useful.”
### 10:11 PM
The Kaori Tanaka broadcast ended.
Everyone with a screen knew before anyone at the door announced it.
The room changed.
Reporters checked feeds.
Conversations stopped and restarted.
Three wives.
That was the line moving fastest.
Not speculation.
Not interpretation.
Not someone trying to reconstruct household relationships from photographs.
Matt had said it himself.
Then the doors opened.
Matthew Johnathan Boone Marmaduke entered with T’mari, T’monn and L’tani.
Matt was still in the medium green and grey yukata from the broadcast.
T’mari wore soft red and pink with cherry blossoms.
L’tani deep blue with silver cranes.
T’monn white and gold.
The press moved.
K’rem watched the entire media contingent pivot away from him.
He looked at W’ren.
“They have found something else.”
W’ren took a drink.
“Excellent.”
### 10:15 PM
Matt made slow progress.
Questions hit him from three directions.
“Lord Marmaduke, are you saying all three women are your wives?”
“How does V’ren law recognize T’monn?”
“Was the common-law declaration intentional?”
“Was High Justice Wenlock really watching the broadcast?”
Matt kept moving.
“Yes.”
“Complicated.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
That created four new questions for every answer.
Eventually he reached the youth group.
Maja was waiting.
Matt saw the hair first.
“Purple.”
“Violently.”
“It suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Then Maja smiled in a way he immediately distrusted.
“I met Yamamoto.”
Matt stopped.
“Oh.”
“He says hello.”
“That is never good.”
“He told me you tried Mount Doom.”
Matt looked at the ceiling.
Kevin became interested.
MJ became very interested.
Rita was delighted.
Chem wandered closer.
Maja continued.
“Turn three.”
“Yes.”
“Three broken toes.”
“Yes.”
“Dislocated shoulder.”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked whether I had failed catastrophically on a Japanese skate rail.”
Maja folded her arms.
“I made it.”
Matt looked at her.
The teasing disappeared.
“You finished?”
Maja nodded.
“All of it.”
“Five sixty-nine?”
“Yes.”
Matt’s eyebrows went up.
“Jesus.”
“Number nineteen.”
That got him.
“On the board?”
She smiled.
“Marshall Maja.”
Matt looked at her for a long second.
Then smiled.
Not the political smile.
Not the public one.
The one that made her understand immediately that he knew exactly what that board meant.
“Good.”
Maja waited.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
He pulled her into a quick hug.
“That’s fucking excellent.”
She laughed into his shoulder.
When he let her go, she said:
“Yamamoto won one and a half million betting on me.”
Matt stared.
“That cheap bastard never gave me odds.”
“He gave you three broken toes.”
“True.”
“He says you are still welcome.”
“I know.”
Maja’s expression softened.
“He said the attempt was enough.”
Matt nodded once.
“That’s how that place works.”
Maja looked pleased that he understood.
Of course he did.
Then Matt turned toward Kevin.
The cadet became instantly wary.
Matt looked at him from polished shoes to perfectly regulation hair.
“Nice velvet.”
Maja collapsed laughing.
Kevin looked betrayed.
“You saw it?”
“I have eyes.”
“The Ziggy set?”
“Excellent.”
Kevin sighed.
“Husbando,” Matt added.
Kevin stared at him.
“Sir.”
Matt smiled.
“I am never calling you that again.”
“Thank you.”
“Probably.”
Kevin closed his eyes.
### 10:22 PM
By then the separate June 6 stories had finally landed in the same room.
The flight crews photographed working the Yokohama waterfront were standing beside the people who would be involved in tomorrow’s SDF recruiting event.
Kevin Wood, who Tokyo had spent much of the day wondering about, was back in uniform while half the city shared photographs of him in velvet, lace and Ziggy Stardust makeup.
Marshall Maja had walked in with purple bangs and a new place in a skating lineage that began in 2363.
Chem had spent eleven hours drinking boba and being used as cat furniture.
Matt had gone onto live Japanese television with one publicly recognized wife and emerged with three.
W’ren and K’rem, who had arrived in Japan only hours earlier, were still meeting people they had previously known only through screens.
Nothing had been negotiated.
Nothing had been recruited yet.
Nothing had been settled.
That was tomorrow’s problem.
Tonight, the youth group kept moving through the room, making introductions, pulling isolated guests into conversations and making sure nobody from the SDF or Trust was left standing alone.
At a little after ten-thirty, W’ren found himself beside K’rem again.
He looked around.
“You know everyone now?”
K’rem studied the room.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
W’ren lifted his glass toward the crowd.
“Then the reception still has a purpose.”
