“I see,” Doc Min drawls, “you do not wish to speak about this reasonably.”
“Reasonably?” I bark a laugh. I don’t have a plan for getting out of this mess, no ideas, no strategy. If I was smart, I’d try to reason with Doc Min, apologize, call this a misunderstanding. But I’m not smart. It’s too much. Years of pent-up pain and anger are leaking out of me like oil from a well. “Nina made me an orphan so I could be a better Determinist pawn. And that’s to say nothing about what being a Determinist evenmeans.” I jerk my head around the room. Professor Morton is still standing in its center, looking twitchy and uncertain. Behind him, the tubes and bottles glow and bubble.
“You’ve got half the galaxy convinced you’re some kind of savior,” I accuse, “but there’s no simulation, is there? You can’t see the future, you can’t determine our fate. You’re justpretending, and now, as part of your ploy for power, you’ve poisoned a volcano and will kill millions of people—”
“No one has to die.”
“Right, of course not, as long as they pledge their allegiance to you, you narcissistic, clown-caped wanker.”
Which is right about the moment I remember I’m on my knees, weaponless, surrounded by guards, and at the mercy of a man who is so sociopathic he’ll willingly gamble the lives of an entire planet for his own personal ends.
Doc Min eyes me. “And what about you, Keller?”
“What about me?”
“You claim I’ve convinced the galaxy I am some sort of savior, but are you not a member of an institution that does the very same?”
“The Legiondoessave people—”
“The Legion has Romothrida locked under its iron thumb,” he clips. “For years, Determinists have struggled to find our footing under their rule. The Legion bars us from interstellar agencies—and from establishingrepresentatives in the Legion itself—on the premise of objectivity, but their motives are thinly veiled. They despise Determinists. If your superiors had their way, we would not exist at all. So I’ve found a way to fight back. Yes, my methods are extreme, but what other strategy would work against a goliath like the Legion? If I want freedom for my people—the ability to practice Determinism openly, without fear of persecution—I must first grow our numbers. I must make our movement so big we are undefeatable. And I will.”
“If you don’t want the Legion to persecute you,” I say, “maybe be less evil?”
Doc Min’s expression is colder now. “Is this a joke to you?”
“No.” A beat, where I consider not risking my life on a wisecrack and decide against it. “But you are.”
He looks at his guards. “Search him.”
They do, roughly. There’s nothing on me, no hidden weapons or maps, nothing except the keening.It doesn’t look like anythingsays the memory of Jester’s words.Just a piece of lint.But one of the guards tugs my pockets, and out the keening falls, the scraggly little fuzzball tipping onto the floor. I try not to look at it. I try to channel my inner Lament and prevent a single thought from showing on my face.
I think I probably do show something, though, when Doc Min stoops to pick it up.
He brings the keening up to his face. Squints at it. And there’s still… I don’t know why there’s still any hope left in me. I’ve already been caught. I’m already doomed. But I think, maybe if he tosses the keening aside, I’ll have a chance to salvage this. I can strike some sort of deal with him. Buy myself time.
Doc Min crushes the keening in his fist, then drops it to the floor. It gives a shudder and withers, fading from light brown to black. I think it might be dead. But worse, worse, is the look on Doc Min’s face.
He knows what it is.
Fear spikes through me as Doc Min looks at the guard beside him andsays, “I have reason to believe The Parallax will soon come under attack. It will be an attempted rescue mission.” Doc Min turns back to me. “How many will come?”
“None,” I croak, too quickly. “No one is coming.”
“It’s in your best interest to answer honestly, Mr. Hartman.” That’s Trey Morton speaking now. He looks… not triumphant. I don’t know how to describe the way he looks, except to sayafraid.
He’s afraid of Doc Min’s anger. He’s afraid of what’s coming.
Hey, Trey. So am I.
Doc Min speaks again. “Whether or not the attackers will be sanctioned by the Legion is unknown. We have our fingers pulling many threads, but the Legion is vast, and there are many departments still beyond our control. I can, however, say with near certainty that the members of Keller’s fleet will be among them.”
One of the guards—a captain of some sort with a blue badge stitched to her breast—gives a terse nod. “Should I sound the alarm?”
“No. I want this contained. When the invaders come into range, eliminate them as quickly and quietly as possible. The fewer people who find out about this, the better.”
My heart makes a fist. “No. Wait. I’m the one who broke into your ship. They had nothing to do with this.”
Ran Doc Min snaps his gaze to mine. “More lies, Keller?” His lip curls, and almost before my eyes, I see him transform. Gone is the diplomatic man from before. His serenity vanishes, dropping away to reveal his true face, like a skeleton under rotting skin. The guards draw back. Trey Morton wrings his hands. A vein appears in Ran Doc Min’s temple, throbbing with rage.
