Austin nods. “I’ll have Noah pull the schedules up for you.”
I hesitate because the next request is more difficult. “Lai would also like to request assistance in the way of weaponry. The Order has always been a peace organization up until now, so our arms are rather limited and basic. We’re worried what little we have won’t serve our members well enough. We also don’t have enough to arm all our members.” Hopefully mentioning that it’s a request from Lai will soften Austin up a bit. He is her adoptive father, after all. Perhaps if he thinks of it as being for her rather than for an organization he knows little about, he’ll be more inclined to acquiesce.
Austin leans back in his chair. His presence remains neutral, a fact that is typical but especially anxiety-inducing in this moment. We need him to agree at least partly to this. Otherwise we have all of about three dozen flimsy weapons for over a thousand people. Our members are working on other means of acquiring and developing weaponry, but Austin would be able to equip us the most effectively.
“That’s a big request,” Austin finally says. “I see what the Order gains from this arrangement, but for such a high price, what do I and the military gain?”
I launch into the answer Lai and I worked out beforehand. We can’t offer something the Order can’t deliver on, and it goes without saying that even though Austin agreed to help us, this has to be an arrangement that will benefit the military as well, or there would be no reason for him to maintain the alliance. “In return, the Order would share intel we’ve gained on the rebels’ movement patterns, base locations, and expected strikes against the sector or supply routes. Our information network is excellent; you can trust our intel. I’m sure the military would benefit from having targets and advance warnings of attacks.”
“And how does the Order acquire such useful information when even the military can’t, with all our equipment and scouts?” Austin’s voice is careful, but his presence burns with curiosity he can’t hide.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that, sir.”
Austin’s eyes bore into me, but I match his gaze evenly. I try to ignore my racing heart. If he says no …
“All right,” Austin finally says. I nearly can’t hold back my sigh of relief. He leans forward once more, elbows upon his disorganized desktop. “I’ll see what I can do. It’s going to be hard to place orders for weapons that don’t make it to our soldiers, so you’ll need to give me some time to work out a process.”
“The Order intends to stop the rebel supply raid tomorrow night,” I say. “The rebel team is small, and so ours shall be as well. Can you provide ten specific arms by tomorrow afternoon?” I hand him the list I’d been holding with the weapon requests written down. His eyes scan it, but he says nothing. My pulse picks up speed. “Of course I understand the need for time for such a large-scale endeavor as equipping most of the Order’s members. But if it’s about a dozen weapons…”
Austin’s eyes lift to mine. “Cutting it close on time here, aren’t you?”
“I apologize. Since you had so many duties to attend to and this was the earliest we could meet, we didn’t have much choice. It was hardly the sort of thing we could ask in the written update, either.” There’s always a better chance of convincing someone to accept a difficult request in person.
“Why not give me the intel, and the military can strike instead of the Order?” Austin asks.
“The Order intends this to be our official declaration of entering the war. The rebels don’t know about us or the amount of information we have on them—they won’t be expecting a counterstrike. We will only have this element of surprise once. This is the best chance for the Order to have a successful entrance into the war and show that we are a considerable threat.”
“I see. And if I can’t supply the weapons by tomorrow?”
My heartbeat drums in my ears. “Then we will do our best tomorrow night.”
Austin says nothing for several prolonged heartbeats. The Order does have some weaponry. It won’t be impossible to succeed in tomorrow night’s strike—just harder. And I know everyone wants to minimize the risks to our members going on the mission as much as possible.
“I’ll see it done,” Austin finally says. This time, my sigh of relief escapes. “I’ll send one of my trusted lieutenants to Market with the weapons tomorrow at noon. She’ll be looking for someone wearing…”
“A red scarf,” I say. “A man wearing a red scarf.”
Austin nods. “I’ll come up with an excuse to tell her.” His fingers tap a rhythm against the edge of the table. “In the meantime, I want places our soldiers can attack. The public has been anxious—we need to show them there’s no reason to panic. That we’re not losing this war.”
“Yes,” I say. “Of course. Thank you, sir. I’ll have our information sent in another coded update tomorrow morning, so please keep an eye out for it. If you need more detailed—”
A knock on the door makes me jump nearly out of my skin. Noah’s voice comes from the other side. “General Austin, a member of the High Council has arrived. He wishes to speak with you immediately.”
My heart rattles inside my chest as my eyes connect with Austin’s. He jerks his chin to his desk. I slide under it as he rolls his chair back to give me room.
As soon as I’m tucked under the desk, Austin says, “Please, show him in.”
I close my eyes as the door creaks open and footsteps patter into the room. I focus on my internal grid to distract myself from the panic threatening to overwhelm me. The Councilor is protected by starlight, a metal that is the only material known to neutralize Nytes’ gifts, so his presence doesn’t appear. Noah’s is tinged with worry.
“General,” the stranger says. It’s a man’s nasal voice, strained with either impatience or anger. Perhaps both. It’s odd not being able to tell definitively with my gift.
“Councilor Norman,” Austin says. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors at this hour.”
An itch behind my eyes.
“This is the only time I could come,” the Councilor says. “Do you have any idea how busy we’ve been since those damned rebels attacked us inside the sector? Running around trying to calm the people, telling them everything’s fine—and just what has the military been doing? Why haven’t you managed to make a single strike against them?”
Austin’s presence glares scarlet, but his voice remains calm. “We don’t yet have the necessary information to execute an attack. We have no locations and no guesses as to how or where the rebel Nytes will strike. Is this the only reason you’ve come?”
“Of course not,” the Councilor scoffs. “Do you really think I’d come all the way here just for that?” A pause. “I would appreciate it if we could discuss what I’ve come for more … privately.”
My heart jumps up my throat. He knows I’m here.
But no. I realize, belatedly, that he’s speaking of Noah, still in the office.
“Of course,” Austin says. He stands and I watch as his feet carry him out of my line of sight. “Why don’t we change locations? It will be easier to show you what our scouts have found in one of the map rooms.” Another pause. “And as to the matter of attack progress. One of our squads found something recently. It’s likely a rebel base, but they’re now confirming whether or not that is the case. We should have the answer soon.” Another pause that feels so deliberate it’s a wonder the Councilor doesn’t pick up on it. “As soon as we have confirmation, we will strike.”