The Polarians of the Confederation saved our lives.
Sure, maybe they went overboard with the restrictions. But considering what we did with freedom the last time, can we really blame them? At most, maybe the rules could’ve been loosened a little—like Prax suggested.
But giving full freedom back to a species that doesn’t know when to stop? Giving us more than we had before?
Honestly, I understand why the Polarians hesitate to trust Humans—or even the Coalition. Why give more power to people who have no respect for anything or anyone?
“You don’t have to decide right away,” the new boss of Arabia Terra adds, his voice all honey again. “I’ll leave you in your cage so you can reflect on your rather precarious situation... and clearly weigh the two options I’ve laid out. And in my infinite generosity, I’ll have a meal sent to you—so you can see for yourself what joining us might offer.”
He smiles.
“I’m afraid I must warn you, though… it’ll be meat. Just to see where you draw the line.”
With that, he darkens the walls of my cube and walks out, leaving me curled up on the cold floor.
I heard everything he said. But what sticks with me the most?
He and his followers killed Naoto. Akiro. Jonathan. Probably Hans too—I remember seeing him on the ground.
And the Sadjim who meant the world to me...
Whatever excuses they throw at me—no matter how reasonable some of them may sound—nothing justifies deliberately hurting another living soul.
I get why some people were drawn to the old ways.
Endless consumption. No accountability. Do what you want, when you want, no matter the consequences.
Even I’ve watched old Earth movies with a twinge of longing.
But not enough to turn my back on the Pact we signed.
When a man brings me a bowl a few minutes later, I ignore him. Judging by the smell, it’s some kind of slow-cooked meat. I’m starving—I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning—but what’s the point?
If Prax were still alive, he’d tell me to do whatever it takes to stay strong for the fight ahead. But he’s not.
Nothing matters anymore.
I trust Kiran to protect sweet Meghan and their baby. They’ll find a way to set aside their differences for the sake of their family.
But me? I don’t want to fight anymore.
A pale light flickers on—probably to check if I’ve finished the food. But no. It’s a man holding a wriggling cloth bundle.
“Here. We found this in the ATV you were riding in. The little manul hasn’t eaten since yesterday. If he dies, Do-yun will blame me. Any idea why he won’t touch the canned stuff?”
Before I can even stand, he opens my cage, drops the bundle inside, and shuts it again.
Pallas.
His fur is dull and matted. He bristles when I reach out but calms down as soon as he catches my scent.
I gently stroke his head, trying to comfort and reassure him.
“Well?” the man insists. “Why won’t he eat?”
“He’s too young. He needs formula and a tiny portion of raw meat.”
He stares at me for a moment, then leaves without a word. Luckily, he returns a few minutes later with a full bottle and a plate of finely cut meat.
