“So you’re the lesser evil.”
“If you prefer that framing.”
I stop pacing. Face him fully. “Do you?”
He considers again. Gods, he really does that a lot. “No.”
“What do you prefer?”
He meets my eyes. Holds them. “Necessary.”
The word settles into my chest like a stone. Not cruel. Not kind. Just… inevitable.
I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. “Okay. Fine. You’re necessary. I’m anomalous. The system’s unhappy. Congratulations, we’re all miserable.”
“You are not miserable,” he says.
I snort. “You don’t know that.”
“I am observing you.”
“Observation isn’t understanding.”
“Correct.”
The admission throws me. I wasn’t expecting agreement.
“Then what are you doing?” I ask softly.
His voice lowers. “Learning.”
Another silence. This one sharper.
“You’re dangerous,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Yes.”
“At least you own it.”
“Ownership implies choice.”
I stare at him. “You don’t think you have one?”
“I think choice is rarely as free as humans believe.”
There it is again. That gentle disconnect. That sense that he’s looking at the world from somewhere just a few degrees off from mine.
“Humans,” I echo. “So what are you, exactly?”
He pauses. Longer than before. The lights hum. Somewhere beyond the walls, a distant mechanical thrum vibrates through the floor.
“Vakutan,” he says finally.
I blink. “That’s… not Coalition.”
“No.”
“Alliance?”
