Chapter 22 - Neela
My head is pounding and my mind is foggy as I open my eyes, cautiously.
My mouth is dry, my tongue thick and clumsy—like I’ve just come out of full anesthesia.
I know that feeling all too well. I had it once before, after my appendectomy at the Cydonia medical center when I was six. And it’s just as awful now.
While I try to make sense of this groggy state, I realize I’m locked inside some kind of box. The walls are greenish and semi-transparent, and the space is small—maybe five feet across in every direction. Just enough to lie down diagonally, but not stand.
I struggle to think clearly… and then it all comes back.
Prax.
Prax, pushed off that cliff—right in front of me. Killed.
A scream wells up in my throat, but nothing comes out.
A moment later, I remember the blow to my head. I reach up by instinct and feel a slight bump, but no open wound. I don’t know where they’ve taken me, but they must’ve drugged me to keep me out.
I sit up and scan the room—or rather, the hangar. I see several other cubes like mine scattered around. I can’t tell if they’re empty or occupied; their walls are completely opaque.
Defeated, I sink back into my thoughts, heavy with failure. Our mission is a disaster. But what weighs on me most is the loss of my beautiful Sadjim.
Images crash over me like waves.
His playful smirk. That mischievous wink. The softness of his velvety fur. His magnificent body. Those deep golden eyes that promised pleasures I hadn’t even imagined.
I remember every moment we shared—our endless conversations. The way he teased me for sticking to the rules, gently showing me how to loosen up, how to take a step back.
His quiet attentiveness. His nonstop banter with my brother. His kindness. His patience.
And now…
A tightness swells in my chest as I realize the truth.
I love Prax.
This different, wild, fascinating being… He has more empathy, more humanity, than some people in our own community. I fell for him—no matter where he came from. No matter that he hunts to eat. I could live with that.
For him, I would’ve left my people. I would’ve joined his so-called Confederation. But now, I have to survive… without him.
And that feels impossible.
Every breath hurts.
Every heartbeat is a silent cry.
All my senses betray me, screaming just how deeply I need him.
The feel of his soft fur beneath my fingertips…
The warm, musky scent of his silky hair…
The soothing sound of his purrs…
The image of his enormous golden eyes…
The taste of that rough tongue against mine…
Everything reminds me of him.
Everything reminds me he’s gone.
My knees give out, and I slide to the cold floor of this tiny cell. I curl up, eyes shut tight, letting the crushing weight of grief smother me.
I sob. I shiver.
And I cry for my lost love.
I must have dozed off, worn out by grief, because I jolt awake as a harsh white light suddenly floods the room.
A dark-haired man walks in and watches me with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Well, you’re awake. Good,” he says, with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I hope you’re comfortable.”
What? Is he serious?
I’m locked in a cell so small I can’t even stand up!
Who the hell is this guy?
“Oh, forgive me,” he adds, as if I’d spoken out loud. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Do-yun. I heard you were hoping to meet me?” he adds smoothly, sitting down on a chair next to the door with the elegance of someone used to being in control.
Meet him? Sure, I’d wanted to—back when I thought he might help us. But now?
Now it’s pretty clear he’s playing a central role in this whole takeover.
I don’t answer. I just glare at him in disgust, curling up in the farthest corner of my cell.
“I see,” he comments, unfazed. “You’ve decided to sulk.
That’s fine, I’m not in a hurry. You’ll be staying here for a while.
Marjorie’s told me a lot about you. She was quite insistent that I keep you alive—for her.
Seems she has… unfinished business with you.
She should be here in a day or two. Maybe three.
So go ahead and dry those pretty eyes and save your energy.
Don’t worry—Marjorie won’t be allowed to kill you.
Our… uh… collaborator from another planet was very clear about that.
A dead body’s worth nothing. But a young, healthy one? That’s got some value on the market.”
He smiles wider.
“Although I might have other plans for you.”
“I don’t understand,” I finally whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
“You mean—why did we stop blindly following rules made by an alien species from a star system we’ll never even see? Why did we stop starving ourselves and start listening to instincts we've had for millennia? That’s life, my dear. Kill or be killed. Isn’t that the law of nature?”
He leans forward slightly.
“Wouldn’t it be fair if I asked you the same question? Why are you obeying such absurd and frustrating rules?”
“But if you had no intention of respecting the Pact,” I say, my voice rising with outrage, “then you never should’ve agreed to it in the first place!”
“Tsk, tsk. Don’t judge us. We had a right to that second chance, just like everyone else.
But look at what Mars is: a harsh, punishing place.
That’s already punishment enough. And it’s not like we’re exploiting the whole planet—we’re only using a tiny part.
So don’t bother throwing that tired argument at me about protecting the environment and all that nonsense… ”
I stare at him, stunned. He’s not angry—he’s calm, composed. Worse—he believes every word he’s saying.
Under my sharp gaze, he continues.
“Here’s how this is going to work. Our time has come.
We’ve been planning this for months—carefully placing every piece on the board.
Naoto was too attached to that damned Pact to see what needed to change.
He made the wrong choice. And he paid the price.
In a day or two, maybe less, we’ll reveal our new order to every Martian colony.
And we’ll set the new rules. The ones who resist… ”
He shrugs.
“You mean, the ones you’ll kill,” I mutter.
“No, no. You’re missing the point. We don’t have to kill anymore.
Now that objectors can be traded for valuable goods, they serve a purpose.
See? We’re working for the greater good.
We’ll offer colonists a better, freer, less stifling life than the one they’ve had.
They’ll get to choose—a choice they weren’t given when they landed here.
If they join us, they live freely, without the petty restrictions of the Confederation.
If they resist, they’ll still be useful—sold off to benefit the community.
I find that delightfully ironic, don’t you?
Those who hate waste will be recycled. But really, the choice is obvious. Who would turn down a better life?”
“Tell that to the people you murdered to cover up your crimes.”
“They were obstacles to our future. You’ll see. We’ll have access to advanced technologies, luxuries we’ve only dreamed of.”
“I still don’t get it,” I snap. “You’re going to trade human lives for what—stuff? You're rebuilding the same rotten system that destroyed our old world! What’s next? Exploiting animals again—for meat or profit? Selling them to who, exactly?”
He offers me a wide smile and chuckles.
“Ah, I forgot to tell you who our allies are.
You won’t be surprised to learn there are countless intelligent species out there. And I’ve been told you’re quite familiar with one of them—your feline friend.”
“A Sadjim,” I snap, my voice trembling as a lump rises in my throat. “You killed him.”
“Yes, yes, a Sadjim. And yes, he had to die. Our main partner was very clear—he wanted that one gone. Unfortunately, it seems Anatoli skipped a step and didn’t make sure the job was done.
There’s no body to present. I imagine wild animals have already cleaned up the mess, robbing our friend of the joy of seeing the corpse for himself. ”
He pauses dramatically, then adds, “Anyway, as I was saying, intelligent species abound. And we’ve entered into a mutually beneficial arrangement with one of them. Bully provides us with the tech we were unfairly denied—better comm systems, weapons, gadgets…”
Seriously? That’s his dream? Unlimited phone access? That’s why Prax is dead? And Hans? Akiro and Jonathan?
“And what do you give this Bully character in return?” I ask, my voice tight.
Do-yun straightens up proudly and lets out a laugh.
“Oh, nothing major—just a few animals captured in restricted zones. And more importantly, information about Earth. She’s not entirely dead, you know? Sure, she’s inhospitable now, but still full of untapped resources—if you know where to look. And that’s what our friend wants to learn.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed.
Something doesn’t add up.
All of us have access to the data about Earth’s resources. That info was made public. So why would Bully need them to get it?
“But… why doesn’t he just search the databases? What does he need you for?”
He rolls his eyes, his tone thick with scorn.
“Because you’re naive. You’re so blinded by your precious Polarians and their supposed kindness, you don’t see the truth. They’ve kept a lot of things for themselves—information, tools, tech.”
He leans forward slightly, sneering.
“Did you know they have some kind of universal translators? Oh yeah. They keep them for themselves.”
I flinch.
He’s not wrong. Prax did have one.
“And the Coalition? The ones opposing the Confederation? Yeah, they managed to create a few implants too—but way more basic. They only support six languages, as far as I know. But us? What did we get when we landed on Mars? Nothing. The glorious Confederation just dumped us here and said, ‘Good luck!’”
He smirks.
“But my friend Bully promised to give us their real translation implants… soon.”
I stay silent, but my thoughts are racing.
I remember what I read in the documents.