Upper handseemed like a bit of a stretch, but I nodded anyway. And it appeared we wouldn’t be talking in euphemisms tonight. “But like I said, I don’t know what it would do to a person. It could corrupt them—physically, mentally… I don’t know.”
“Do you believe the rebel leaders would impose thisenhanceron their fighters?”
I shrugged. That was essentially my problem. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d take issue with people deciding to try it on their own, but I would have a hard time living with knowing I’d provided something that got forced on anyone.” And the rebel leaders were just as capable of fanaticism as anyone else. I didn’t personally believe that the end justified any means. I wanted the same thing they did—the fall of the Overseer’s imperial regime—but a pendulum that swung too hard one way could also swing too hard in the other direction. I wanted no part of that.
“Could you control the distribution?” she asked.
“If I take it to the leaders, they’ll confiscate it. It’s what I’d planned on doing, but now…I just have these doubts.” I grimaced. “I’m not sure what to do.”
“You have a good head on your shoulders and don’t take unnecessary risks—with yourself, or with others.” Mareeka’s blue eyes were steady on mine. “Do you believe this is a necessary risk?”
I wasn’t sure what constituted necessary or unnecessary, but I thought Mareeka was probably giving me too much credit. I could think of a few risks I regretted deeply. One had sent Gabe and me running in opposite directions. Another had gotten me a lab full of super soldier serum and an enormous price on my head. The latest had landed me in Shade Ganavan’s bed.
I ignored the sudden, sharp twist in my chest and thought about what she’d said.Do you believe this is a necessary risk?
That was it; I couldn’t decide. I’d given my blood to the kids here because I knew it was pure, undiluted with anything that could hurt them. I was healthy, and contrary to what my father and his lab technicians had constantly made me believe, I wasn’t a freak of nature, or anything truly alien. I was only slightly different. The enhancer, though, was a possibly dangerous piece of chemical engineering made to stick to and mess with a person’s insides. Maybe the result would be good, fine. Maybe it wouldn’t.
“I believe we’re losing this fight,” I answered. “I believe this could make a difference.”
“And what else do you believe?” she asked, clearly sensing there was something I wasn’t saying.
I hesitated and then coughed up the other fear that was making this a very hard decision. “That suddenlynotlosing could cause years of unparalleled bloodshed.”
Mareeka uncrossed her arms, stood, and stepped toward me. “What about winning?”
I scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing I could wipe away the perpetually icky feeling I had about the serum. “I’m not sure winning is possible, even with this enhancer.”
She put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “I’ve never told you what to do, Tess. You were always much too grown-up for that, even at eight years old.”
“I know, but…what wouldyoudo?” I asked. “I’d like to know.”
Her pause was very slight. “I would hand it over.” She didn’t offer awhy, or any explanation to support her choice.
“But what if it drastically alters people? What if the war spirals out of control?”
“Right now, there technically is no war.”
“Fine. What if the currentnot-war we’re fighting spirals out of control?” I asked.
“There’s always a turning point. And no war is won without sacrifice.” She squeezed my shoulders again and then dropped her hands. “What if this is the turning point? Where would we be if no explorer had ever dipped his or her toes into the unknown?”
Probably extinct. On a dead planet. Because, well, nuclear holocaust.
“Make your position clear—that it should be volunteer-based. You are a leader in that world, Tess. You have influence.”
I frowned. “I’m not. I’m nothing. I’m just a Nightchaser who runs supplies in and out.”
Mareeka scoffed. “Stand tall and speak forcefully enough to be heard, and they will listen.”
A hot, prickly feeling grew under my skin. What was she talking about?
“What makes Surral and me able to run this place without ever hitting a child, or even raising our voices?” she asked.
That was an easy answer for someone who’d spent ten years on Starway 8. “Because a disappointed side-eye from one of you is way worse than any lash from a whip.”
“Says someone who’s experienced the whip,” Mareeka pointed out.
I nodded, wondering what she was getting at.
