God, I feel stupid. I’ve been taking care of this man for days, interacting with him like he’s just… a guy. I forgot he’s not Human. Kiran’s right—felines are carnivores. I can’t blame him for doing what comes naturally.
“Actually, I’m relieved,” Kiran says. “I brought some grains, but you and I both know your garden won’t feed two people. If he can take care of himself, we can keep things quiet a bit longer.”
He’s got a point. I glance at Prax, who’s now dozing on the couch. Not surprising. That bath must’ve wiped him out.
“The real question is: what do we do with him?”
“Good question. I thought he might be connected to Vassili or someone at the Palace—like that outsider I spotted. But now I’m not so sure. If someone were waiting for him, there’d be a search party. So far, nothing. And I’ve been working at the Palace all week, keeping my ears open.”
I grab some lemon balm leaves and put the kettle on. Part of me is relieved he’s not tied to Vassili. Or at least… I hope not. Then again, he did bring back a weapon from the wreck. That’s two, if I count the one in his bag. What am I supposed to do with those? Hide them? Destroy them?
“Did you see Esteban?” I ask, steering us to something simpler.
“Yeah. We talked. He said we’ll do it on a Friday—this one or next. Friday’s soup day. He’ll slip the herbs in and raisethe alarm when the symptoms kick in. You’ll be called for a diagnosis. Francine and Armand are in, too. I’ll message them the night before, channel 59. They’ll pretend to be sick the next morning.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring my compact camera. I need to document everything—especially the weapons you found. Anything that proves Vassili’s breaking the Pact.”
“You know, Neela, I’m starting to wonder if this will even work. Porkoff and his people already know how to use weapons. If we make it to Arabia Terra with proof, what’s Masayuki going to do? Send a letter reminding them the Pact exists?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was hoping someone would finally step in.”
“The point is to prove the Palace is violating the Pact—and show the rest of the colony. But after that? Even if everyone believes it… what then?”
“Well, the Palace isn’t that big. What, thirty people? Fifty? Sixty? We outnumber them!”
“Yeah, and they’ve got weapons. And no scruples. Meanwhile, we’ve got teachers, doctors, farmers… people who fix stuff. People who raise kids. What are we supposed to do against guns?”
“What if…” I trail off.
“What if what?”
“What if we had a weapon? Or two?”
“Are you nuts? First of all, we don’t. And even if we did, who would know how to use them? You think it’s like in the old movies? Holding a gun and firing it are two different things. Aiming at a person—pulling the trigger—it’s not instinctive. Could you aim at Vassili? Pull the trigger? What about Marjorie?”
I meet his gaze. He’s right. I couldn’t. We were taught to respect life. All life. To heal, not harm. Could I really shoot someone? No. That truth burns.
“So what do we do? Just give up? Let them keep pushing? They broke the Pact and now anything goes. We can’t let a handful of bullies control Cydonia. If we do, we don’t deserve this second chance.”
Kiran takes my hands in his, grounding me.
“For now, we stick to the plan. When the time comes, they’ll be busy in the bathroom. You’ll sneak into the Palace and look around. Then we’ll figure it out.”
“One step at a time.”
“Right. I’ve got to get back. Meghan’s with Sanjay, and I promised not to be long.”
“Give them both a hug for me.”
“Will do. And hey—you’re wrong about Prax.”
“About what?”
“You said there’s no way he’d be into you. Trust me. If he’s single and breathing, he is.”
I watch him leave, replaying that ridiculous claim. Prax barely notices me. I’m just the woman who patched him up. And when he was sick, he kept calling for someone named Ileana. I don’t know how names work in his world, but that one sounds awfully feminine. And Human. Sister? Lover?
He finishes his nap and strolls outside, still wrapped in that towel. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him. Modesty doesn’t either.
