“Civil war is a fun plot twist,” Eva muttered. “Why does life always get violent? Can’t people just be nice to each other without someone throwing a chancleta?” She glanced sideways at Vakar. “And yes, I know it’s rich for me to be the one saying that, after—” Her words stuck in her throat.
After everything she had done, not just on Garilia, but all over the universe. Hell, she’d loved being aggressive when she was younger. It made her feel powerful. Strong. Proud of herself in ways nothing else seemed to accomplish, because she was good at it.
Qué mierda. Her neck flushed hot with shame, and Vakar’s grip on her hand tightened. Mala began to purr again, a little furry engine of tension reduction.
“One of the factions did not resort to violence,” Vakar said quietly. “Or so we are told. They spoke words of peace to any who would listen, and attempted to halt conflicts where they could, often by placing their own bodies in the way of harm.”
“Sounds like an easy way to die,” Eva murmured.
“Many of them did.” Vakar smelled pained, like rust and copper. “But they attempted to break the cycle of violence. Their example served to lessen the conflicts, and encouraged others to find alternate methods of engagement.”
“And everyone lived happily ever after?” Eva frowned at her own sarcasm. Vakar didn’t deserve it.
“They did not,” he replied. “The story claims that some of them went into hiding while the rest committed genocide. No ibbyhn has been seen since.”
“So they’re either all gone, or the ones who hid are still out there somewhere?” Eva asked.
Vakar hesitated, smelling sad. “It is likely that the notion of their hiding was added to the account in order to provide a sense of optimism rather than complete failure. As noted, quennians are not known for being good liars, but we have our methods.”
Eva nudged him with her hip. “If this story was supposed to make me feel better somehow, it’s not doing the best job.”
“You questioned whether intervening in the politics on this planet was a good idea,” Vakar said. “When the ibbyhn began their civil wars, the quennians did nothing. They did not believe it was their place to interfere.”
“That’s more or less BOFA policy, too,” Eva said. “That everyone has to deal with their own problems, and they’ll be around to help whoever comes out on top.”
“It is the only way to ensure each species is allowed full autonomy.” Vakar smelled like rust, and fire, and copper. “It is supposedly the height of arrogance to assume one might know better from the outside than those within. Perhaps it is arrogant, but I cannot help but think, if only someone had done something more, perhaps the ibbyhn would not be extinct.”
“And maybe they would have blown themselves up even faster. Maybe they would have screwed themselves up in a hundred other ways no one could predict.”
“Perhaps,” Vakar said. “Ultimately, we each must make our own choices. Whether to fight with words or weapons. Whether to fight at all.”
Eva fell silent. Around them, the trappings of civilization grew more dense, the lights within buildings casting red and green and gold squares on the ground, while the stars continued their slow rotation overhead. In the distance, waves lapped against a pristine white shore, and the smell of salt and night-blooming plants drifted along a breeze so faint it hardly stirred Eva’s hair.
Nothing was easy. No answers seemed like the right ones. For years Eva had regretted what she had done here, regretted all the lives she had taken in a single moment. But she’d taken other lives before that, and others after; the only difference was the size of the body count. Coming back to Garilia felt like a chance to atone, or to undo what she’d done, but she couldn’t undo death. No amount of apology or effort would change the past, so all she could do was consider how her actions would affect the future. And for all she knew, the resistance would be just as bad as the current regime—or worse.
But she still needed to find Josh and get him to Mari. She and her crew needed to get paid, and this job would keep the ship fueled and repaired for a long time if she was prudent. Initially, she had expected she might be riding to Josh’s rescue, but it certainly seemed like that wasn’t the case. That said, if he was here voluntarily, the rest of the universe might be safer if she convinced him to do what Mari wanted instead.
Eva had seen the ads herself; Sylfe Company was planning to distribute the Pod Pals all over the universe. BOFA would inspect them, but if Proarkhe tech was being used, and the BOFA folks didn’t figure that out and flag it, or if regulations weren’t tight enough, it was possible the little bots could end up spying on millions of people, maybe billions. If the rebels were trying to disrupt what Damaal and her people were up to with their surveillance bots, that alone might be worth an alliance.
Tech like that could cause violence, or it could end it, depending on who controlled it. Knowledge was power, and power could be bought and sold, traded and taken.
There were fewer tourists around, but the number of Watchers seemed undiminished. Every pair of eyes followed Eva and Vakar as they walked back to the skyscraper where they would be staying for the rest of the cycle. Waves of psychic calm emanated from them, of authority, of the certainty that came from being the government’s eyes and ears and fists. Any of them could approach Eva, detain her, whisk her away somewhere, and bury her like The Fridge had. If she stepped out of line. If she acted up. If she said something they deemed unacceptable.
The urge was strong, but she suppressed it, gripping Vakar’s hand tighter. They had work to do.
Pink was practically climbing the walls when they got back, despite Eva already messaging her that they were on their way and pinging her from the elevator. The room’s door opened and Eva was all but dragged inside, Mala leaping off her shoulders with a hiss.
Min lay in one of the hammocks, eyes closed, limbs twitching—probably playing one of her games. Sue was still on the floor with her Ball Buddy, which was now in even more pieces than it had been when Eva left. And Pink, well.
“Welcome back from your walk,” Pink said, her eye wide with emotions Eva couldn’t read yet. “I hope you two had a good time out there, enjoying the fresh night air and all that.”
“It was very nice,” Eva replied. “Relaxing. I can’t remember the last time I got to unwind like that.”
“Yeah, we work hard,” Pink agreed. “Did you eat?”
“No, and I could definitely use a bite if you’ve got something.”
“Right over here.” Pink guided Eva to the corner under the holovid unit, where a table had been set up with stuff on it.
Except it hadn’t. It wasn’t there at all. The corner was completely empty.
Pink pressed a finger to Eva’s lips and activated her isohelmet. Eva did the same.
“I had Sue and Min work on a loop of us eating so we could talk,” Pink said.
“How did they—”
“Min had some old recordings from La Sirena Negra and Sue rigged up other stuff.”
“But why can’t we just—”
“Talk in privacy mode like we did before?” Pink folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Do you know how many times people came up here to check on us since you left?”