“Yes. But the Superiority might not be our most pressing concern.”
“I don’t want to tell Unity I found humans,” I said. “We should be using that information to discredit them.”
“I agree,” Rinakin said. “That’s why I think you should return and ask the humans for help, while I go to the Council and try to reason with them.”
“They won’t see reason,” I said.
“They might,” Rinakin said. “Most of Unity’s supporters are blowing their way because they don’t see any other choice. If you bring the humans to our aid, you give them another option, another path. Remind the humans of our old alliance, and our potential as current allies. If you succeed, someone is going to have to advocate for that option with the Council. Will it be you?”
I sighed. We both knew I wasn’t a diplomat. Rinakin wasn’t a Council member anymore, but he was the High Chancellor of the Independents. The members of the Council listened to him—those left on our side, at least.
Still. “You can’t cooperate with them,” I said. “That is their way.”
“Cooperation is not evil, Alanik,” Rinakin said. “It depends entirely upon who you are cooperating with.”
“It’s evil to cooperate with them,” I insisted. “They want to work with our oppressors.”
“We all want the same thing,” Rinakin said. “Peace for ReDawn.”
“But the way they’re going about it is wrong.”
“It is. And someone has to continue to tell them that, so they can’t forget there’s another way.”
Rinakin exited Industry’s airspace and turned toward Spindle, a smaller tree where we both made our homes. An alert flashed on the panel—the color indicated that we were ordered to stop at the nearest landing bay for inspection by a government vehicle. Normally this alert was used for traffic violations, though we were flying at regulation speed through open airspace.
Alanik, Quilan said in my head. We’ve come to escort you to the Council chambers. Please ground your ship.
I dug my nails into the plush armrest. “It’s Quilan,” I said. He wasn’t a teleporter, but he did have access to cytonic skills I hadn’t yet been able to access—including concussion bolts and mindblades. Last I knew, he wasn’t strong enough to use the mindblades effectively, making him as dangerous to himself as he was to others. “He wants us to land so he can escort me to the Council.”
“You can flee to Hollow,” Rinakin said. “But they’ll come for you there, and you won’t have enough people to defend yourselves. We simply don’t have enough pilots to resist them.”
Rinakin turned the ship toward the nearest landing bay, a loading dock for one of the lumber yards. We cruised over a lot filled with old bark that had been stripped away. It would be turned into remanufactured wood in a pressing facility nearby and used for buildings that couldn’t be hollowed from the branches.
The ship following us pulled up over our left wing to escort us down into the landing bay. Rinakin turned off his boosters and lowered his altitude lever, bringing us down onto the smooth, shaved wooden surface.
As he did, Quilan’s voice reached into my mind again. I’m here in peace, he said. This doesn’t have to get aggressive.
I dug my nails harder into the armrest. His words made me want to scream. There was nothing quite so frustrating as soft words being wielded like clubs. At least a straightforward attack was honest; everyone could see it for what it was.
Later, when the Council discussed this, Quilan would testify that he was perfectly docile and reasonable, and I was going to look like the problem.
My fingers pierced through the armrest. I was going to owe Rinakin for repairs, but I wasn’t sorry. It felt good.
If that made me aggressive, so be it.
“I don’t like leaving you here,” I said. “You could come with me.”
“Our branches fork here,” Rinakin said. “But we’re still connected at the root.”
Pretty words that meant there was no convincing him otherwise.
I reached across the negative realm, searching for that strange planet, the rock with the eerie, clear atmosphere surrounded by orbital platforms and a thick layer of debris.
I found it, but as I tried to form the coordinates in my mind, the surface of the planet felt slippery. Empty. Blank.
They had a cytonic inhibitor. When had that happened? That hadn’t been there when I’d left them. I didn’t think they had enough cytonics or enough knowledge to form one—this was probably more similar to the ones used by the Superiority, especially because it seemed to cover the entire planet.