“Thank you for meeting me,” Aelyx said. He gestured at three small glass jars atop the table, each filled with clear liquid collected from opposite ends of the country. “And for bringing your water samples.”
After placing his duffel on the floor, Colonel Rutter took a seat at the next table, giving them the illusion of privacy. Isaac lowered to his chair and motioned for Aelyx to follow suit. “I did so against my better judgment,” Isaac said. “But I couldn’t resist. I admit your message had me intrigued.”
“This won’t take long.” Aelyx found it difficult to maintain eye contact with the seemingly innocuous man. While Richards began sipping his coffee, memories of Eron’s death pushed their way to the front of Aelyx’s mind—specifically how the Patriots of Earth had proudly claimed responsibility for the murder.
Isaac must have sensed it. “Before we begin,” he said, “I want to say that I regret what happened in Lanzhou. I don’t have much control over individual chapters, and I didn’t sanction violence against that boy.”
Aelyx didn’t much care for semantics. Whether or not Isaac had called for Eron’s death, he’d facilitated the group protest that brought together thousands of extremists in Eron’s town. Isaac had to have known bloodshed would ensue.
“I won’t lie,” Isaac continued. “I still want your kind off my planet.”
Aelyx laughed without humor. “Now that I believe.”
“But I don’t kill children.”
“I’m not a child.”
Isaac brought the cup of coffee to his mouth and watched Aelyx over the rim. He set the cup atop its saucer with a light clink. “No, you’re not. But I have a son your age, so I guess that’s how I see you.”
Aelyx didn’t like this. He didn’t want to hear that Isaac had a family, or any humanizing elements about his life. The man had fostered an organization that fed on fear and paranoia. They’d tried to kill Aelyx many times. That was all he needed to know.
Roughly, Aelyx unzipped the duffel bag at his feet and pulled the microscope and glass slides from inside, then set them on the table.
“What’s all this?” Isaac asked.
Aelyx unscrewed the first jar and used a sterile dropper to squeeze a few beads of water onto the slide. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me unless you saw this with your own eyes.” He flipped on the scope’s light and peered through the eyepiece to bring the sample into focus under heavy magnification. “Look in here and tell me what you see.”
Isaac slid the scope across the table and did as Aelyx asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “A bunch of green blobs joined together in strands.”
“They’re algae blooms,” Aelyx explained. “And you’ll find them reproducing at an exponential rate in every single one of these samples.”
Isaac’s answering shrug said he didn’t understand.
“I didn’t poison Earth’s water, but it’s tainted all the same.” Aelyx removed the slide and repeated the process using liquid from the second jar. “Years ago, our Voyagers introduced your scientists to L’eihr nanotechnology. Human scientists began experimenting with our particles without pondering the consequences, and they released a nano-fertilizer that leaked into the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, thus—”
“Wait,” Isaac interrupted. “In English, please.”
While Aelyx tried to rephrase the occurrence in simpler terms, Colonel Rutter offered from the next table, “We screwed ourselves, right up the tailpipe. And unless L’eihrs give us the technology to fix it, we’re all dead in less than a decade.”
Isaac removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You can’t expect me to take your word for it.”
“Of course not,” Aelyx said. “Feel free to bring in someone you trust to substantiate the findings. I’ll wait.”
Isaac excused himself to make some calls and returned thirty minutes later with a scientist from the local HALO chapter. The man brought his own microscope, slides, and water samples and set them up on the opposite side of the bistro. After inspecting the droplets, he conferred privately with Isaac and left.
When Isaac rejoined their table, his skin had paled a few shades. “All right. Assuming I believe you, what are we going to do to fix the problem?”
“My leaders have the technology to neutralize the algae blooms,” Aelyx said. “But they won’t deliver it unless our people form an alliance.”
“Of course they won’t.” Isaac stared into the first jar of water. “They’ll use this to get whatever it is they want from us.” He glanced up and demanded, “And what is that, exactly?”
At one time Aelyx had thought he’d known. But not anymore. He folded both arms on the tablecloth and dodged the question. “Let’s be honest. My people have the means to defeat you, easily. If The Way wanted you dead or enslaved, you would be. If we wanted your land or your DNA or your women, we would already possess them.”
The tightening of Isaac’s jaw showed he agreed.
“After the Patriots murdered Eron,” Aelyx continued, “I fought for your kind. I begged The Way to give you another chance. Now you have it, and you won’t stop trying to assassinate me.”
“Whoa, there.” Isaac flashed a palm. “I already told you I had nothing to do with that.”
“Maybe not you specifically, but when you preach hatred, how do you expect your followers to respond?” Aelyx delivered a stern warning. “If one of them succeeds in killing me, there’ll be no one left to plead your case. There will be no alliance and no solution to the water contamination.”
“What is it you expect me to do?”
“Support the alliance,” Aelyx said. “Publicly.”
Colonel Rutter added, “Without mentioning the water crisis. If you do, there’s a military prison cell with your name on it. We don’t need riots and hoarding on top of everything else.”
“How am I supposed to justify a sudden change of heart?” Isaac asked. “I’ve been battling this alliance for two years. I’m still against it. My members will think you brainwashed me.”
Aelyx pushed the microscope across the table as a grim reminder. “I’m confident you’ll think of something.”
Isaac gazed into his coffee as if the answer might drop from the heavens into his cup. Seconds ticked by, turning to minutes.
“Think of your son,” Aelyx pressed. “Without this alliance, he won’t live to see thirty. And it won’t be an easy death. Have you ever seen what dehydration does to a man? His lips will crack. His muscles will cramp and his head will throb. If he’s lucky, his heart will fail before his skin begins to—”
“Enough!” Isaac pushed away from the table, his chair loudly scraping against the floor. “I’ll do it. But if your leaders don’t hold up their end of the deal, there will be war. I swear it.”
Colonel Rutter bristled at the threat, but Aelyx waved him off. “I’ll get the technology myself if I have to,” Aelyx said. “But I can’t help you if I’m dead.”
Isaac snatched his coat off a nearby chair. “None of my people will touch you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Before he charged toward the door, Aelyx called, “Wait,” and handed him the first jar of water. “If you ever doubt what I’ve told you, look at this sample beneath a scope and see how quickly the blooms multiply.”
Isaac took the jar, careful not to make contact with Aelyx’s skin, then stuffed it inside his jacket pocket and wiped his hand on his pants as if he’d touched filth.
What a bastard.
“Well, that didn’t go too badly,” Colonel Rutter said after Isaac had left. He stood and clapped Aelyx on the back. “Now all we have to do is keep you alive till spring.” Gathering his supplies, he beamed and said, “Easy peasy.”
When Colonel Rutter returned Aelyx to the hotel an hour later, the penthouse was crowded with politicians and publicists—none of them smiling. Confused, Aelyx made his way into the room, then stopped short when his gaze landed on the television screen. Someone had paused the program, but he recognized it at once. His own image s
tared back at him from a hotel sofa he shared with Cara’s parents.
Somehow the botched interview with Sharon Taylor had aired.
Stomach dropping, Aelyx glanced around the room for an explanation. He grew cold when he noticed the ambassador glaring at him from the dining room table. No doubt, Stepha would punish him for this.
“What happened?” Aelyx asked.
“She leaked the whole thing,” the PR specialist said. “We’re not sure how she did it, but I assume she was wearing a hidden camera and transmitting the footage offsite.”
“So it’s…”
“Everywhere. And the response isn’t pretty. HALO leaders are already calling for your arrest.”
The room exploded in simultaneous conversation as everyone bickered over who to blame and what to do next.
Colonel Rutter’s voice carried over the crowd. “Simmer down. We’ve got backing from Isaac Richards now. Whatever the damage from that interview, we’ll call a press conference and have him put out the flames. This isn’t the end of the—”
Stepha raised a hand and silenced the colonel. “It’s late. We will continue this discussion in the morning.” A few objections arose, but Stepha insisted that everyone leave, even David, who begrudgingly agreed to wait in the hallway. Within minutes, the room cleared until only Aelyx and Syrine remained.
“I’m sorry,” Aelyx said. He doubted it would help, but he meant every word.
The ambassador showed no sign of emotion. “You know what has to happen.”
Aelyx could only nod.
Stepha led the way into the living room, where he settled in his armchair and instructed Aelyx and Syrine to take the sofa. Right away, Aelyx noticed the iphet resting on the coffee table and his shoulders clenched of their own volition.
“I haven’t administered a Reckoning since I accepted the post of ambassador,” Stepha said. “I find the task demeaning.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I loathe the smell. It reminds me of my own childhood indiscretions.”
Syrine shifted beside Aelyx on the sofa and wrung her hands. She’d nursed him through his first Reckoning at age six. Afterward, she’d empathized with his pain so acutely she’d vomited her breakfast. Aelyx wished Stepha would dismiss her. She didn’t need this anxiety.
“Stepha, please,” Syrine whispered. “Aelyx is repentant. Perhaps you can spare him the iphet. The Way doesn’t have to know you waived his penalty. I won’t tell anyone.”
Aelyx expected the ambassador to chide her for suggesting such a crime, but he didn’t. Instead, Stepha studied them for several minutes, never initiating Silent Speech—just watching. When at last he spoke, his voice was eerily calm. “I’m not going to administer a Reckoning.” He leaned forward and took the iphet in his hands, then turned it over, inspecting the deceptively delicate wiry rod attached to its handle. He held it toward Syrine. “You are.”
Syrine brought a hand to her breast. “Me?” She shook her head so fiercely her ponytail escaped its clasp. “I can’t! Please, if you consid—”
“I believe you mistook my order for a request.” Stepha tossed the iphet onto the table, where it rolled toward the sofa. He locked eyes with Aelyx but chose to speak aloud. “Do you see how your insubordinate actions have corrupted this girl? In defense of your treachery, she has proposed a lie by omission—seeking to deceive The Way, whom she has sworn to obey in all things. Do you see how your poor example has led her astray?”
“Yes,” Aelyx said, offering a silent prayer to the Sacred Mother that Stepha would reconsider. Syrine didn’t deserve this. “And I’m deeply sorry.”
“In the end, rebellion hurts us all.” Stepha showed no signs of relenting. “Syrine will deliver your Reckoning and share in your anguish, to teach you that everyone suffers when you defy The Way.” Without moving an inch, he glanced at the iphet. “She will administer twenty strokes.”
“Twenty?” Syrine cried. “But that’s a dozen more than—”
“Twenty-five,” Stepha corrected. “You may begin at your leisure.”
Syrine clenched her fists, but she didn’t argue. Aelyx knew her well enough to imagine she was punishing herself for adding five lashes to his penalty. He couldn’t let Syrine assume the blame. This wasn’t her fault.
He claimed the iphet and handed it to her. When their eyes met, he said, Don’t be afraid. I’ve been through this so many times I barely feel it anymore. You won’t hurt me.
Of course she knew he was lying, but she nodded and took the handle in her trembling fingers. Aelyx showed her how to power it on, then removed his shirt and knelt in front of the sofa, resting his folded hands atop the cushion.
“I’m ready,” he told her.
She positioned herself behind him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She began to speak but must have thought better of it, because the next thing Aelyx knew, she’d struck him directly between the shoulder blades.
Aelyx tasted the electricity before he felt it, but the sting quickly followed. His muscles clenched, skin burning as the stench of singed flesh filled his nose. She struck again and then again in quick succession. Sweat beaded across Aelyx’s brow. His lungs ached to cry out, but he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. He wouldn’t burden Syrine with the knowledge of his pain.
On and on it went. The sickening zap of the lash echoed against the high ceilings, punctuated by Syrine’s wet sobs. Once she reached twenty strokes, Stepha told her to stop.
“Are you contrite, brother?” Stepha asked.
Aelyx couldn’t speak, so he nodded. He’d never felt so contrite in his life. Black spots danced in his line of vision, and he knew he’d never make it back to his room. With limbs weaker than onionskin, he pushed away from the sofa and lay on the carpet, letting the air flow freely over his lacerated back.
After the ambassador retired to the master suite, Syrine knelt by Aelyx’s side. She dabbed medicated salve on his burns and whispered “I’m sorry” a hundred times. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t the kind of apology he’d wanted, but those dancing black spots merged into one, and he surrendered to oblivion.
The next morning, Aelyx awoke facedown on his bed, unsure of how he’d made it there. He squinted against the early sunlight and discovered Syrine on the floor beside his mattress, fast asleep with an open bottle of salve in hand. Before he had a chance to whisper her name, she blinked awake, as if sensing him.
She sat up and flashed a palm, her eyes reddened by tears. “Don’t move. I added another layer to your fahren wrap an hour ago. I need to wash it off.”
Syrine rushed to the bathroom and returned with several damp towels. When she placed the first on Aelyx’s back, he held his breath and braced for the pain, but all he felt was warm moisture. He relaxed at once.
“Okay?” she asked, blotting his skin. “Is this too hard?”
“I barely feel a thing. What did you do to me?”
While removing the dried salve from his back, she whispered, “I gave you two analgesic injections and a healing accelerant. The fahren wrap is cosmetic, so you won’t scar.”
Those medicines were hard to find on Earth. “Where did you get all of that?”
“Easy,” she said. “I liberated the medic kit from Stepha’s suite after he fell asleep.”
Grinning, Aelyx glanced at her over his shoulder. “I truly have corrupted you.”
Syrine didn’t return his smile. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she dried his skin and smoothed on a final layer of ointment. “He never said I couldn’t heal you. Technically, I haven’t disobeyed him.”
When the treatment was complete, Aelyx sat up and faced her. Thank you. I’m sorry you had to do that—any of it. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.
Syrine gaped as if he’d told her the Sacred Mother wore combat boots. You’re apologizing to me?
Yes, it was my fault.
No. She shook her head and burned a glare into his skull. Don’t say that. I hurt you, not only last night, but months ago on the transpor
t. And I never said I was sorry. Now I’m saying it: I’m sorry.
After last night, Aelyx didn’t need to hear it anymore. He held out a hand. I just want my friend back.
Tears spilled down Syrine’s cheeks as she took his hand in both of hers. She gave him a watery smile. I never left.
Chapter Twelve
“No crying,” Troy ordered. “You promised.”
Cara dabbed at her eyes with her tunic sleeve. “Who’s crying?”
“You are, dorkus.”
“Nope, not me.” Tears didn’t count unless they spilled over, so she hadn’t violated their deal. “Must be something in the recycled air.”
Troy had wanted to say good-bye at the Aegis, and when Cara begged to tag along to the spaceport, he’d agreed on one condition—no sniveling. He’d said it was hard enough leaving her behind, and he didn’t need one more reason to feel like crap.
“Well, get it in check,” he said. “Or I’ll have Jeeves take you back early.”
The capital guard who’d shuttled them to the spaceport—whose name was Aloit, not Jeeves—pointed to the station manager and gave Troy a command in L’eihr. Troy looked to Cara for an interpretation.
She translated for him. “You need to turn in your orders and get a travel band.”
“Impressive,” Troy said with an appreciative nod.
“I know, right?” Cara never imagined how quickly she’d pick up the language. Cultural immersion really worked.
That didn’t mean she wanted to stay. Her decision to leave Earth was starting to feel like a knee-jerk reaction, and she would stow away inside Troy’s duffel bag if she could. She wondered if The Way had sensed it. That would explain why they’d sent a guard instead of a mere pilot to shuttle her to the transport.
“Okay. I’ll make it quick.” Troy backed away by slow degrees as if the two of them were tethered at the waist by a bungee cord. Cara could tell this was hard for him, and she suddenly regretted dragging out their good-bye. She should have given him a clean break at the Aegis like he’d asked.
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