Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Let them choose
“Pasek,” it said, because it recognized common visitors by now. “Arriving from the north.”
I was already awake. I’d been lying there going back through the conversation with Maive, finding the same conclusions each time: we both had valid points, but neither of us had been kind about it. I didn’t know how to fix that. I put on my boots and went to the door.
Pasek stood at the hatch in the gray morning, looking like he’d volunteered for the task of fetching me, but was now regretting it. Or maybe Maive had filled him in on what I’d told her last night.
“She’s calling a village assembly this morning.” He dropped his gaze. “She’d like you there.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He met my eyes. “Whatever happened between the two of you last night, the village needs to know what’s coming. They need to hear it from you, or at least have you there to answer for it.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I wanted to. “Fine,” I snapped. “But we’re taking the shuttle. I want to be home before the good fishing starts.”
The stone hall was packed by the time we arrived.
People pressed into the space, filling the benches, standing shoulder to shoulder as that was the only way to fit everyone.
Someone was minding the children, because they were wisely kept out of this meeting.
I saw faces I’d come to know over these months, and some I’d only seen in passing.
I squeezed into a spot at the far wall, crossed my arms, and glowered.
Maive stood at the front of the room. She was very much in her saka role.
Her posture, her stillness. Her voice reached every corner without effort as she explained everything I’d told her the previous evening.
She was clear. There was no point in softening it.
She named the Rivonok Alliance, described their methods, and told them what the syndicate operation looked like in practice.
She also made certain they understood that this threat had begun eight months ago, before I arrived on Podnos-9.
She said that deliberately, probably so no one got the idea that I had any part of it.
When she finished, the room was quiet for half a second before it erupted in noise.
Maive silenced it with a single raised hand. “If you have questions, and I’m sure you do, one at a time.”
As I figured, most heads turned to me. One of the elders asked what I thought they should do, and I said I thought they should evacuate, and told them why.
I also acknowledged Maive’s point about how they’d likely be searched for.
I watched anxious expressions pinch onto faces.
They weren’t fools. They knew I wasn’t wrong, but they also looked reluctant to agree with my advice.
Only a few wanted to leave, and they had small children. A woman with two who could barely walk said it would be safer to hide than face such a force. Her voice was tight with fear. No one in that room thought she was a coward. She wasn’t.
Most of the room held the other view.
Pasek made his way to the front and stood beside Maive.
I hadn’t expected that. He was an affable sort, happy at the edges, and enjoyed making people feel easy.
But he spoke his piece in favor of making a stand.
It was clumsy in places and clear in others, but sincere throughout.
He talked about his brother nearly dying in the harbor, the village holding them together while Tregen recovered, and the fact that there wasn’t a version of himself that could imagine being somewhere else.
“I don’t know how to fight,” he said. “I’m planning on learning. I hope you do, too.”
He stepped down. Several people near him put a hand on his shoulder.
Braija hadn’t said a word through any of it. She stood close to the front with her arms folded, expression unreadable, and I’d nearly stopped watching her when she stepped up.
The room settled immediately. Braija held a lot of clout in this village.
“My ancestor built the metal oven I cook on,” she said.
“No one knows where the parts came from, but she used it, and her children used it, and their children after them.” She paused.
“It’s been in that kitchen for so long, that ancestor’s name has been lost to time.
I cook on that oven every day. My children will cook there.
And I will be flecked if I let some off-world syndicate take it from me. ”
I closed my eyes as the weight of her words pressed on me.
Orrec spoke last. He was the oldest person in the room and said the fewest words. “I’ve fished these waters my whole life,” he said. “I’m not fishing anywhere else.”
Maive asked for a show of hands to stay and defend. An overwhelming number of hands went up. Then they looked at me. I knew the question swimming in all those heads. Will you train us, Gilrox?
I looked at the room as I internally sighed. These people understood what they were choosing. They weren’t reckless. I couldn’t write this off as some impulsive whim. I had witnessed a great deal of courage in my life. Most of it hadn’t moved me. This did.
“Yes,” I said. “But I can’t guarantee it will be enough.”
“It’s enough for us,” Pasek said.
The hall cleared slowly. Maive lingered, then came and stood near me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The room was different when it was empty. All the energy was concentrated on the two of us, rather than being dispersed among the villagers.
“I’ve been thinking about Belaga since you left,” she said.
I grunted. “It’s in the past.”
“I know. But it explains things.” She looked at me steadily. “I should not have said what I said to you.”
“No,” I agreed. “But you weren’t entirely wrong about it.”
She didn’t reply to that, which I appreciated. We stood there for a moment.
“The elderly and the very young need somewhere to go if it comes to a fight,” I said. “I don’t want them in the village.”
“I’ve been thinking the same.” She paused. “The Runams in the mountains. We broke away from them generations ago. I don’t know if they’re friendly.”
I’d had the same thought. “I’ll speak to them.”
She looked at me. “Alone?”
“I’m difficult to kill,” I said with a grimace. “Even now.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “All right. If you think there’s a chance.”
“There’s a chance.” I paused. “If there isn’t, we’ll come up with something else.”
There was a pause. It made me feel twitchy, but I had a feeling she had something more to say, so I waited.
“Gilrox, I’m sorry.” Her gaze met mine. “You’ve shown nothing but kindness to everyone here, and I…I don’t want to lose you, either.”
I moved to her. I took her face in my hand, fingers against her jaw, and kissed her hard. I was still hurt. Still a little mad, but it didn’t change how I felt about her underneath all of that. In a way, it was a relief to see a few cracks in her. She wasn’t perfect. Neither was I.
She gasped against my mouth. This kiss was a declaration, or a vow, or the closest I knew how to come to both.
When I pulled back, she was looking at me with those clear green-gold eyes.
“If you will not leave,” I said, “I will fight to my last breath defending you and everyone in this village. That is not a figure of speech.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I know you will.”
I released her and stepped back. There was nothing to say after that, so I left it there.
The day flew by faster than it should have. People were in full preparation mode and since I was their only expert in this, all their questions landed right on me. Evening had come down by the time I broke away and walked back toward my shuttle. I was reaching for the hatch when I heard footsteps.
Aila. She came up beside me and took my hand.
“What is it, little one?” I asked her.
She looked back to the village, then up at me. “Are we going to win?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But we’re going to do everything we can to.”
She considered this. “Gr’pa, will you teach me to fight too?”
I stopped breathing.
She’d said it simply, as though the name she’d called me was natural.
I knew I should probably tell her to call me Gilrox, remind her that I wasn’t her grandfather, but I just couldn’t.
The name she’d just used for me added a new layer of weight to all this, and made it even more important that I not fail them.
“We’ll talk about it.” I flicked the end of her nose. “Now go on home.”
“Okay,” she said. She dropped my hand and ran back toward the lights.
I stood by the shuttle.
Just stood there.
Fleck. All I’d wanted was a solitary retirement of fishing, napping, and maybe picking up another hobby or two, like whittling. I was good with a knife. Instead, I’d gone and acquired a family of several hundred. Being a mercenary was a walk in the park compared to this.