Page 22 of Crash Landed with My Weredragon

Khrelan spoke near the end. His voice was measured, his tone respectful, but the content was a blade.

"The human presents data about food, technology, and resources. She presents the alliance as mutual benefit. But she hasn't addressed the fundamental question." He addressed the council, not Marina. "What happens when Earth decides it wants more than trade? What happens when a species that outnumbers us a thousand to one decides that alliance isn't enough, and that the resources of Dobromia are better served by ownership than partnership?"

Every eye moved to Marina. The question was the one she'd been waiting for; the fear underneath all the other fears, stripped of diplomatic language and laid bare.

"That's a fair question," she replied. "And the honest answer is, I can't guarantee it won't happen. I can't speak for every government on Earth or every future decision. What I can tell you is what I see in this room. I see a species running out of time, a planet that's dying, and a choice between trusting someone new or dying alone. Neither option is safe. But one of them has a future."

Khrelan held her gaze for three seconds. Then he leaned back and said nothing more. The silence he left was more powerful than any rebuttal.

Boradrith dismissed the council but asked Marina and Toren to stay.

"Your scientist, Dr. Patel, is in my research caverns," Boradrith told Marina when the chamber was empty. "Dr. Melessra tells me she arrived in the middle of the night and hasn't left."

"That's Patel. She does that."

"Melessra also tells me that your overnight collaboration identified two atmospheric variables our team missed. Variables that could narrow the collapse timeline by several cycles."

Marina's pulse quickened. "Did she say which variables?"

"She wants to discuss it with you first." Boradrith's amber eyes were steady. "My chief researcher wants to collaborate with a human. Two days ago, she'd have considered that unthinkable." He paused. "You're changing things, Marina Livingstone. Faster than I'm comfortable with. But the data suggests I should be uncomfortable and proceed anyway."

"Is that a yes to the alliance?"

"It's a not-no. On Dobromia, that's significant progress."

Toren caught her eye across the table. His expression said; I told you. She gave him the smallest nod in return. Don't gloat, not yet.

CHAPTER 8

*** TOREN ***

The formal council session the next morning was the first time Toren had seen his father genuinely uncertain.

Boradrith sat with his usual composure, but Toren knew the tells. The slight dulling of the gold scales along his jaw, which was a stress response that most people attributed to lighting changes but that Toren had learned to read twenty years ago, watching his father navigate the food crisis in its early cycles. Fingers flat on the obsidian surface rather than laced; another tell, the hands of a man preparing to make a decision he wasn't sure about. The D'Karr was weighing something heavy, and the weight was showing in the places only family could read.

The full council was present, which consisted of twelve Weredragons representing military, plus scientific, agricultural, and the outer settlement liaisons. Khrelan sat in his usual position at the far end of the table, navy scales absorbing the obsidian-reflected light. Beside him, Councillor Draeth, who was silver-scaled and ancient. Her eyes were sharp enough to cut stone. She'd served three kings and had the authority of someone who remembered when things were worse and who measured every current crisis against the ones that came before.

Marina wasn't in the room. Boradrith had made that choice deliberately because the council needed to debate the alliance without the human present, so the arguments could be honest rather than polite. Honest, on a Weredragon council, meant blunt. And blunt, when the topic was whether to trust an alien species with your survival, meant brutal.

"The question before this council," Boradrith began, "is whether to formalize contact with the human species and pursue the proposed alliance framework. I will hear arguments."

The agricultural faction spoke first. Goruth rose from his seat. He was not standing, just straightening to his full height, which was considerable. His brown scales bore the weathered texture of decades in the Colony's growing caverns.

"I'll make this simple," Goruth said. "We're producing sixty-three percent of the calories our population requires. The shortfall has been growing for five years. Five years of watching the numbers get worse while we argue about whether to do something. At current trajectory, we hit critical failure in eight cycles. Critical failure means children dying, councillors. Not theoretical children in a projection model. Real children in real settlements who aren't getting enough food."

He pulled up data on the chamber's display; the same crystalline projection technology the research caverns used. Numbers filled the air between the councillors in glowing three-dimensional columns.

"The humans' agricultural data suggests they could supplement our production by forty percent within two cycles of active trade. The math isn't complicated. We can feed our people, or we can argue about sovereignty while they starve. I know which one I'd rather explain to the settlement leaders."

"The math never is complicated," Draeth replied. Her voice carried the dry patience of someone who'd heard passionate speeches before and evaluated them on substance rather than delivery. "The politics are that we're discussing inviting an alien species into our supply chain. If they provide forty percent of our food and then withdraw; for any reason, political, economic, or simple indifference, we don't return to the current shortfall. We crash below it, because our agricultural infrastructure will have restructured around their contribution. Dependency, Goruth, is not a solution. It's a different kind of vulnerability."

"So, we're better off starving independently than risking dependence?" Goruth asked.

"I'm saying we should understand the risk before we embrace it. Understanding doesn't mean refusing. It means being honest about the cost."

The military faction was divided, and the division was loud enough to make the obsidian walls ring.

Commander Thessok who had dark red scales, broad shoulders and a voice built for giving orders across noisy battlefields, stood to address the council. "The humans have technology we've never seen. Propulsion systems, communication arrays, medical equipment. Their ship survived an uncontrolled atmospheric entry and a crash landing that would have destroyed anything we've built. The strategic advantage is enormous if we can access that technology; study it and adapt it."