I understand the game now. Terra Ka wants me to defect cleanly, to hand them proof that resistance works. The Sovereigns want me to stay inside the lines they’ve drawn, to betray them in the way they’ve already accounted for. Both sides think they’re the ones holding the leverage.
Both sides are wrong.
If I refuse Terra Ka, they’ll escalate and someone else will pay for my hesitation.
If I follow the Sovereigns’ script, I help them destroy a resistance that might actually free humans.
So I will do neither.
I will give Terra Ka enough truth to act, but not enough to control the outcome. And I will give the Sovereigns exactly what they expect to see, but nothing more.
I won’t escape this trap. But I will step into this with my eyes wide open, and in the end, I will decide who falls and who doesn’t.
I pull the crystal from my pocket. It’s smaller than a fingernail, pulsing faintly with Terra Ka code.
I take a deep breath, once I do this, there is no going back.
But I will not allow myself to be manipulated.
I find the nearest terminal, slot the crystal in, I assume this area is safer than most—Huck wouldn’t have chosen it otherwise. Once the terminal becomes active, I open the uplink Rafe showed me last week—the “secure guest archive,” he called it. Rafe’s voice echoes in my head:Firewalls aren’t walls. They’re habits.
I quickly route Huck’s data packet through the internal uplink, the same one Rafe insisted I use. I begin to swear as the terminal blinks with a silver crest for half a second—then clears, like it was never meant to stop me.
The transmission window closes, and I look at my reflection in the terminal, now blank. I look fine, calm and professional. Exactly what the Sovereigns trained me to be.
As I walk back toward the staff corridors, an old story surfaces uninvited into my mind. Judas. The blood money, thirty pieces of silver. The kiss that marked his teacher for death. I was raised to believe that betrayal is always singular, always personal, always evil. But that isn’t how power works. Judas wasn’t feared because he betrayed Christ. He was useful because he was close, trusted, and already trapped inside the Jesus’ story.
Someone always needs a traitor so the rest can remain righteous. If the Sovereigns fall, it won’t matter who struck the blow. I will be the human who stood closest. I will be the explanation they choose.
That’s the part I understand now. Guilt isn’t assigned by truth. It’s assigned by convenience. And knowing that won’t stop me—but it does mean I refuse to call myself a martyr or a monster.
Because I’m not here to be redeemed or sacrificed. I’m here to decide what happens next.
36
THE COST OF FREEDOM, RAFE
The Fifth Chimehas almost ended. I couldn’t sleep. I had to watch the surveillance file again on my private display thinking about what to do.
As expected, Terra Ka has made contact with Eve, and now we need to ensure this plays out in our favor.
The footage is grainy, obstructed, and incomplete due to Terra Ka’s jamming tech. But I can see well enough, Eve meeting the Terra Ka operative in a shadowed corner of the maintenance levels.Her body stiffens as she takes something from him and puts it into her uniform pocket.
It can’t be anything physically dangerous, most likely a communication device. Eve is harmlessly human. Barely five and a half feet tall, beautiful, and too empathetic to kill anyone. Terra Ka may dream of martyrs, but Eve Eden will never be one of them. And I don’t think Gael would be foolish enough to task her with something as dangerous as murder.
First Chime has barely begun when I send the summons.
And I watch her wake on my private display. She slowly stirs in her bed as the pale gold illumination of the Chime washes over her humanskin. Her hair is tangled, and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks, evidence of the wine she drank last night. Deliberate indulgence on my part, but it was for a reason.
The message icon pulses above her bedside console. She blinks, confused, and then sits up fast. She touches the console, and my words flare before her eyes:
For a moment she just stares at the text, lips parted, as if reading it again might reveal some hidden reprieve. Then guilt shadows her features. No doubt she’s wondering if I know what she did in the maintenance levels.
Quickly she rises, clutching the sheet to her chest as if modesty has meaning under my gaze. She knows I’m watching. I should make her sheets transparent, but I don’t. Her bare feet touch the floor. She looks small, vulnerable, and so very human.
So perfect.
Ten minutes later, when she enters my office, she bows and waits.
