Chapter 22 - Neela #2
The Confederation has a strict policy of non-interference.
A technologically advanced civilization is supposed to respect the autonomy of developing societies.
They believe offering too much too soon can destabilize cultures and create dependency—or worse, open the door to a new kind of imperialism, where help is just control in disguise.
So yes, the Polarians held back.
But even so, they did intervene. When Earth was dying, they stepped in. They rescued animal species compatible with Martian life. And in the end, they allowed a few thousand humans to join a colony here, on this red world.
They left just enough tech to survive.
But no more than that.
So it’s all a matter of perspective.
Should they have given us full access to all their knowledge?
That’s clearly what Do-yun thinks. Even Prax—though more measured—often said the restrictions were way too harsh, stricter than necessary.
“And besides,” Do-yun goes on, “communication and data access aren’t the same across the board!
You see, the Confederation has access to everything—all the tech and information in the galaxy.
But us? Us Martian colonists? We only got what the Earth archives allowed—and even that was scrubbed clean of anything remotely dangerous.
No weapon schematics. I looked. No designs from our ancestors that might ‘endanger’ the colony.
Even the coordinates of Earth’s resource deposits have been wiped.
That’s why Bully can’t find this stuff on his own.
But we can dig into old history books, or vintage Earth movies, and piece things together.
Personally, I’m a huge fan of human cinema—documentaries, especially.
Take Blood Diamond, about the mines in Sierra Leone.
Rhodium, by the way, is another resource our friends are very interested in.
The Confederation deleted all the old geological maps. ”
I listen in stunned silence.
I mean… it never occurred to me to go looking for bomb recipes or weapon blueprints. But I didn’t know the Polarians had actually filtered our databases before giving us access to them. Still, Do-yun isn’t done.
He’s clearly on a roll, and trying hard to convince me.
“And the members of the Coalition? They were cut off too. Even they don’t know where the other inhabited worlds are—unless they stumble across one by sheer luck, like Bully did when he passed through our solar system. Total accident.”
Great. Lucky us. Honestly, I kind of wish he’d wandered into the next system over instead.
And if you ask me? It’s actually comforting to know that this band of smugglers and shady dealers doesn’t have a complete catalog of planets to loot.
The manager of Arabia Terra looks disappointed that I’m not buying into his grand pitch. A muscle twitches in his jaw—a tiny giveaway of the irritation bubbling underneath.
He shifts tactics.
“You know, your fate isn’t sealed. It’s not too late for you to join us.
Like I said, I have plans for you. You seem smart and resourceful.
And as a doctor, you'd be a real asset to the community. By joining us, you’d enjoy certain privileges.
You don’t have to feel guilty about that—it’s been that way since the dawn of time.
Equality is just a pretty myth. No one’s born with the same physical, intellectual, or emotional tools.
It’s up to each person to make the most of what they’ve got and improve their life.
Forget the Confederation’s nonsense—no one cares anymore.
Seize the opportunity. Help us put Humans back on top of the food chain!
We’re not like the other animals. We’re superior.
So—what do you say? Are you with us, or against us? ”
His smooth tone doesn’t fool me.
I mean—I’m in a cube. He’s in a chair. And he’s pontificating like a spoiled kid upset that someone else has more toys.
The Polarians of the Confederation saved our lives.
Sure, maybe they went overboard with the restrictions. But considering what we did with freedom the last time, can we really blame them? At most, maybe the rules could’ve been loosened a little—like Prax suggested.
But giving full freedom back to a species that doesn’t know when to stop? Giving us more than we had before?
Honestly, I understand why the Polarians hesitate to trust Humans—or even the Coalition. Why give more power to people who have no respect for anything or anyone?
“You don’t have to decide right away,” the new boss of Arabia Terra adds, his voice all honey again.
“I’ll leave you in your cage so you can reflect on your rather precarious situation.
.. and clearly weigh the two options I’ve laid out.
And in my infinite generosity, I’ll have a meal sent to you—so you can see for yourself what joining us might offer. ”
He smiles.
“I’m afraid I must warn you, though… it’ll be meat. Just to see where you draw the line.”
With that, he darkens the walls of my cube and walks out, leaving me curled up on the cold floor.
I heard everything he said. But what sticks with me the most?
He and his followers killed Naoto. Akiro. Jonathan. Probably Hans too—I remember seeing him on the ground.
And the Sadjim who meant the world to me...
Whatever excuses they throw at me—no matter how reasonable some of them may sound—nothing justifies deliberately hurting another living soul.
I get why some people were drawn to the old ways.
Endless consumption. No accountability. Do what you want, when you want, no matter the consequences.
Even I’ve watched old Earth movies with a twinge of longing.
But not enough to turn my back on the Pact we signed.
When a man brings me a bowl a few minutes later, I ignore him. Judging by the smell, it’s some kind of slow-cooked meat. I’m starving—I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning—but what’s the point?
If Prax were still alive, he’d tell me to do whatever it takes to stay strong for the fight ahead. But he’s not.
Nothing matters anymore.
I trust Kiran to protect sweet Meghan and their baby. They’ll find a way to set aside their differences for the sake of their family.
But me? I don’t want to fight anymore.
A pale light flickers on—probably to check if I’ve finished the food. But no. It’s a man holding a wriggling cloth bundle.
“Here. We found this in the ATV you were riding in. The little manul hasn’t eaten since yesterday. If he dies, Do-yun will blame me. Any idea why he won’t touch the canned stuff?”
Before I can even stand, he opens my cage, drops the bundle inside, and shuts it again.
Pallas.
His fur is dull and matted. He bristles when I reach out but calms down as soon as he catches my scent.
I gently stroke his head, trying to comfort and reassure him.
“Well?” the man insists. “Why won’t he eat?”
“He’s too young. He needs formula and a tiny portion of raw meat.”
He stares at me for a moment, then leaves without a word. Luckily, he returns a few minutes later with a full bottle and a plate of finely cut meat.
Pallas dives in and devours two chunks before turning to me.
That’s all the protein he wants—he won’t eat more of that. I scoop him up gently and offer him the bottle.
A sigh of relief escapes me when I see he likes the mix.
He finishes it and eventually drifts off to sleep in my arms.
I keep petting him, running my fingers through his thick coat. Unlike Prax’s, Pallas’s fur is long and fluffy, making him look bulkier than he really is. But the gesture doesn’t soothe me—it only plunges me deeper into that ocean of grief.
My heart tightens, and tears well up again.
Damn it, Neela—get up!
You can’t just give up like this.
That’s not who you are.
I steady my breathing and try to weigh my options.
Short-term, I need to convince them I’m playing along.
Dead, I’m no use to anyone. And Do-yun seems keen on recruiting me.
But what happens next?
If it were just the colony leaders, this might be fixable. I want to believe most settlers still respect the Pact—even if the so-called dream life sold by Vassili and Do-yun has swayed some of them.
No, I think if our only enemies were a bunch of greedy colonists, we could turn things around.
But the Coalition… This twisted twin of the Confederation—if I’ve understood it right—
how do we fight that?
***
I’m still deep in thought when the light blazes on again and several men drag more captives into the room.
Suddenly, all the cubes around me turn transparent, and I can finally see inside them. I kneel and press my face to the wall of my cell, straining to make out who else has fallen into their hands.
To my horror, more unconscious people are being dragged in and locked up—just like I was.
Within minutes, a dozen of us are trapped in Do-yun’s cages.
And he dares to claim it’s for the good of the colonists?
In the farthest cage, I spot two sleeping wolf pups curled together.
Then someone steps in front of me.
I look up and meet Anatoli’s gaze.
A wave of pure hatred surges through me as I stare at the man who killed the one I loved. A mocking smirk tugs at his lips as he crouches to my level.
“Well, well, dear Neela… Unlike Do-yun, I don’t imagine you’ll be swayed by our arguments.
Not that I care. We’re loading the cages into a materials transport unit. You’re heading to the embarkation zone.
If you’re wondering, you’re going on a little trip, lucky girl.”
He chuckles softly, then adds,
“Don’t worry, your fate’s actually better than some of the others here. These folks gave us trouble.
They’ll never accept the New Martian Order. But that’s not a problem. Half of them will be sold… for consumption. Did you know human meat supposedly has an irresistibly sweet flavor? That’s why it fetches such a high price among certain alien species.”
I stare at him, eyes wide, hoping it’s some sick joke.
But he’s dead serious.
A wave of nausea rises in my throat, but with nothing in my stomach, it fizzles into a dry heave.