“I'm pleased to hear it,” Tiro says unconvincingly while reaching into his diplomatic pouch and producing a small square card. “Should you ever need assistance, with anything at all, this will reach me directly.”
Eve accepts the card with the appropriate level of gratitude, and I watch how carefully she places it in her desk drawer. Not hidden, but not prominently displayed either. And I hate that she has that card. It gives her unmonitored access to Ambassador Tiro that will even fragment the Starlight Array’s feed. But I can’t take it from her. This is all part of our plan. Tiro will tell Gael about Eve if he doesn’t know already. Then Gael will contact Eve on behalf of Terra Ka.
“Thank you, Ambassador. Your concern is noted and appreciated.”
“One more thing,” Tiro says. “I knew your predecessor, Denise. A remarkable young woman. I was... saddened to hear of her difficulties at Kamos’ Palace.”
For just a moment, Eve's mask slips, and I see genuine emotion crossher features—anger and sadness. It's gone in a flash, but I know Tiro didn’t miss it.
“I hope she's found peace. She trained me on Earth when we both worked together at the Terra Sanctum hotel,” Eve says. “I wish she were here.”
“As do I.” Tiro's tone carries the weight of someone who knows exactly what happened to Denise and doesn't approve. “Take care of yourself, Madame Eve. The galaxy can be a dangerous place for those who forget they have choices.”
After he leaves, I watch Eve stand alone at her desk for several minutes. Her professional mask remains in place, but I can see the slight tremor in her fingers as she types something on her computer. I mirror her screen.
Then, as soon as the words are there, she deletes them and then looks over to Lira, who gives her a smile, which she returns.
My communication panel chimes with an incomingmessage from Lorian:
She's magnificent, isn't she?
My response is simple:
We have to make sure she doesn’t leave with Gael.
And if she does?
I think about Ambassador Tiro's card in her desk drawer and the choice she'll eventually have to make between freedom and... whatever this is becoming between the three of us. It’s more than employment, but she can never be our wife. However, I can also never let her go.
We will go after her.
Later, Lorian finds me on the balcony above the arena. Below, engineers are testing the projection fields for the Grand Championships. On a screen in the distance are videos from last year’s games, human contestants running for prizes they would never keep.
“If you’re going to publicly stand here and watch this, you should at least frown,” he says. “You talk about reform to Eve, but then stand here happily overseeing the next Championships, counting profits.”
“Reform costs money,” I reply. “Every credit we make, every person Eve impresses, helps humanity’s reputation in the galaxy?—”
“—and it’s all written in human blood,” Lorian cuts in. “Tell me, Rafe, how many more of these games must we host before we can afford to stop them?”
I look down at a holographic maze’s glimmering corridors as engineers work out where the trap doors should be. “If we stop now because of our own morals, someone else will take it over. And they’ll be worse and crueler than we are.”
“Control the cruelty and call it mercy?”
“I’m just being realistic,” I say. “We were born into this machine. We won’t stop it by simply walking away—we have to take the controls, which is what we’re doing.” When he doesn’t respond, I look over questioningly.
“I’m worried that by doing this we’ve lost sight of what’s right. Without our mother to guide us, how can we trust ourselves?” He leans against the rail. “Do you ever wonder if we’re building the same kind of cage for humans, like Eve, but the only difference is that hers has gilded bars?”
“Every day, but until the galaxy stops buying tickets, her gilded cage also pays for our reforms.”
The arena lights dim, leaving only the faint echo of the crowd simulations below—applause for ghosts. The humans that have died here for the entertainment of the galaxy.
Lorian breaks the silence, “Well, apparently, you can’t liberate a species without still charging admission.”
“Not in our galaxy you can’t,” I say solemnly.
33
BOUNDARIES, EVE
