“What exactly is your issue with the aliens who saved Earth?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
His cheeks mottled red. “Since the Reveal, all anyone can talk about is the Drexians this, the Drexians that. The alliance this, the cooperation that. Everyone seems to have forgotten that it was the Earth’s military that protected this planet for years before these big aliens showed up with their fancy technology and their insistence on doing things their way.”
The bitterness in his voice was shocking. I’d known he was traditional and conservative in his military thinking, but this level of resentment was new to me. The Drexians had insisted on doing things their way because they were technologically superior and had been battling the Kronock for ages. If we hadn’t accepted their help, Earth would have been another Kronock conquest.
“The alliance with the Drexians has only weakened Earth,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “Made us dependent on alien technology and alien strategies to solve problems we can take care of ourselves. We shouldn’t need anyone else to fight our battles.” He unconsciously touched the arm I knew he’d wounded in Afghanistan decades earlier. “I know all too well what happens when you rely on allies instead of yourself.”
I felt like I was seeing him for the first time without the filter of childhood hero worship. It was true that he’d experienced betrayal from an ally in battle before, but that didn’t mean it would happen with the Drexians. I saw now that his fear had twisted him and made him deeply xenophobic in ways that made my skin crawl.
“You realize,” I said slowly, “that it was those same aliens who saved Sasha’s life? If it weren’t for the Drexians, she’d still be rotting in that prison. Or dead.”
His expression hardened into something that looked almost like contempt. “Her capture was one more reason the alliance is dangerous. If she’d been martyred instead of rescued, it would have shown everyone on Earth exactly what happens when you fight alongside these aliens. She would have been proof that in a Drexian partnership, humans lose.”
Bile teased the back of my throat. Was he actually suggesting that Sasha’s death would have been preferable to her rescue? That her sacrifice would have been useful propaganda for his anti-alien agenda?
A horrible suspicion teased the back of my mind, so terrible that I tried to push it away even as the pieces clicked into place. My father’s resentment of the alliance. His anger at Sasha’srescue. His suggestion that her martyrdom would have served his political purposes.
Was it possible? Could our own father have been involved in the decision to abandon Sasha? Could he have actually sacrificed his own daughter to make a point about Earth’s independence from alien assistance?
A trickle of horror slid down my spine. I swallowed hard, tasting bile and trying to convince myself that even someone as power-hungry and xenophobic as my father wouldn’t go that far. He wouldn’t sacrifice his own child for political gain. But looking at his enraged expression, I wasn’t sure anymore.
“I... I need to go,” I stammered, backing away from him.
“Ariana,” he called after me, his voice sharp. “We’re not finished talking.”
But I was already walking away, my steps wooden and unsteady, my vision blurred. The beautiful Promenade around me seemed to waver and shift, the carefully maintained utopia suddenly feeling artificial and hollow.
Could it be true? Could my father have been one of the people who wrote Sasha off as an acceptable loss? Could he have sat in a sterile conference room and decided that his own daughter’s death would serve his political agenda better than her rescue?
The thought made me physically sick, but I couldn’t shake it. Everything about his reaction, from his lack of concern for her trauma to his casual suggestion that her martyrdom would have been useful, pointed to someone who had never wanted her saved.
I stumbled toward the nearest inclinator, desperate to get away from him, away from the horrible realization that was crystallizing in my mind. If my suspicions were correct, then Sasha’s instincts about being betrayed weren’t paranoia born of trauma.
They were the truth.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Deklyn
The inclinator whisked us away from the confrontation with General Bowman. Part of me wondered about the repercussions of walking away from an Earth general. He was the kind of man who could probably make my military career very difficult with a few well-placed words. But a much bigger part of me didn’t care. My priority was the woman beside me, and everything else was secondary.
Sasha looked shaken, her breathing shallow and quick as we glided up and across the station. Pink light pulsed overhead in rhythm with the strange instrumental music that always played in these transport pods. After a few minutes, she started humming along with the melody, her voice soft and slightly off-key in a way that was endearing.
“You know this song?” I asked, surprised.
She laughed. “It’s ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ by an Earth group called Wham! It’s vintage Earth music from way before my time, but my mom used to play it constantly when Ariana and I were small.”
The mention of her mother sent a flicker of emotion across her face. Maybe it was loss or regret or nostalgia for the innocence of childhood, but it was gone in an instant.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as if realizing for the first time that we were actually traveling somewhere rather than just hiding in the inclinator.
The doors slid open to reveal the familiar tropical paradise of our suite level, but instead of leading her toward our quarters, I guided her along the teakwood path toward an offshoot I’d noticed earlier.
“I thought we could use a drink, sweetheart,” I said.
The path led to a small round bar nestled among artificial palm trees and tropical flowers, complete with a thatch roof, bamboo stools, and torches that flickered with artificial flames.
