Four #2
He stood between her and the congregation which made the barrier seem performative. He shook his head when he was offered a chair like he considered sitting a personal insult.
He was silent and had deigned to step slightly to one side as a show of respect to the Premiere. His prosthetic arm was stiff by his side, his other hand opening and closing into a fist. Since he’d grabbed her on the planet, he’d touched her with his cybernetic only when forced.
She wanted to say something.
She wanted to get away from the politicians droning on about war.
Mostly, she wanted the migraine to stop chewing on the back of her eyes.
One problem at a time.
Det’ae’s voice was clear and the group silenced immediately. “Doctor Benally, are you able to answer questions?”
“Able is such a flexible word.” She mumbled beneath her breath, but she caught Renjik’s mouth twitch.
The Premiere’s feathers ruffled at her neck. “We’d like your assessment.”
Willow took a deep breath and Na’ashq’ii adjusted on her neck, one cool tentacle settling at the base of her skull. “Razili can give a better assessment of the residue.”
“She’s identified the substance as Scozid’s engineered contact-vector bioweapon. We’d like your opinion as to why it was there.”
“The debris appeared to be from a containment system designed to double as a delivery system.”
“The recovered transmitter is corrupted,” an Azar warrior said. “It burned through most of its own memory when it sent the burst.”
“Of course it did. Murder puzzles are always more fun when the puzzle eats half the clues.”
“Can you identify the intended target from the remaining data?”
“No.”
“Was it intended for Lannidies?”
She waited for several shocked gasps to quiet before answering. “Possibly.”
“For the negotiation delegation? Or the planet?”
“Again, possibly.”
The warrior took a step forward, anger marring his features. Renjik mirrored the movement. The Azar stepped back.
Det’ae cut a sharp look at the warrior before addressing Willow. “The question is whether the Scozid are preparing to deploy this weapon.”
“That answer should be obvious to everyone present. They almost certainly are.”
Heavy silence fell over the group.
Willow’s head hurt. Her stomach hurt. Her heart had decided today was a good day to crawl toward the Rucieth glowering at the group of politicians. They didn’t care about any of that.
“They framed the peace talks like a challenge. They isolated us in a prepared location. A location rigged with a weapon that apparently malfunctioned, killing almost everyone on board. When their plan failed, at least three Scozid who survived the crash were surveying the same debris we were. I suspect they were attempting to recover or destroy it. That’s a contingency plan. ”
A bright green woman next to Det’ae spoke up. “My team found several more fragments in the outer atmosphere.”
Na’ashq’ii rubbed Willow’s temple. “How much of the substance was released?”
“We must assume the entire volume of the container, but sensors haven’t detected any planetary spread.”
Willow closed her eyes. “Yet.”
“Yet,” the woman agreed.
The crowd parted as Calyx stepped forward, a com in his hand that already displayed a projection of the tuppu deployment model. “The deployment system is ready.”
Tuppu, the Alliance’s tech-neutralizing weapon synthesized by Razili had been designed to disable Scozid systems without destroying citizens or the planet. Strategic discussions had been going on for months, but hope for a peaceful solution stayed the military’s hand.
The Premiere clicked her beak before turning sharp eyes to Willow. “We require an updated cultural impact assessment.”
“No.”
The wave of gasps was louder this time.
“No?” The feathers on Det’ae’s neck fluttered.
Willow took a deep breath. “No, you don’t require an updated cultural impact assessment. You require my help to determine which parts of Scozid civilization can survive without access to their technology.”
“The Scozid have made their choice.” She thought that came from one of the military leaders, but she wasn’t sure.
“Have they?” Willow leaned forward. The Molzaed moved, presumably to stop her from standing, which she had no intent on doing, but Na’ashq’ii raised two tentacles and the healer reconsidered.
“Or have their military and government leaders made the choice? The scientists who developed their weapon? The ruling class? How many civilians do you think got a vote?”
“How many Denchui civilians have they spared?” A military leader stepped forward and Willow gave herself a pat on the back for having called it.
Renjik moved before Willow could speak. One step was all it took to change the room. Everyone’s attention flicked to him.
“Don’t speak as if she’s forgotten what they’re capable of.”
“This is war.”
“Yes. And she’s trying to keep us from becoming monsters much like them in our victory.”
Det’ae studied Renjik for several moments before returning her attention to Willow. “We’re not asking you to authorize deployment. That decision rests with the full council.
“We’re asking for honest parameters. If the weapon must be used, where can the effect be targeted to prevent a total collapse?”
Willow snorted. “You’re asking me for a humane destruction.”
“I’d like to keep casualties to a minimum.”
That made her pause. She looked at the Premiere, really looked at her for the first time.
She looked exhausted in a way Willow’d never seen.
Not uncertain, not weak, just carrying too heavy a load behind her eyes.
Willow lowered her chin and Na’ashq’ii tightened briefly, the lingering migraine waning.
The pressure behind her eyes eased. For the first time since the shuttle blew up, there wasn’t a railroad spike being driven through her skull.
Fewer dead. That was the trap. Not the Scozid’s, the universe’s. The ugly math every war demanded.
“Critical systems should be spared. Medical infrastructure, water regulation, food and agricultural controls, and anything related to environmental controls in high-density areas.”
“And their military capability, that’s safe to target?”
“There are many ways to define military capability.” Willow shook her head. “Long-range communications, command relays, drone coordination, and off-world ship fabrication should be targeted first.”
“What about on-world communications?” The commander, again.
Willow huffed. “If you take out the social systems, you create a mass extinction event.”
“Because they can’t call someone?”
She stood up and got as close to the barrier as she dared.
Na’ashq’ii’s tentacles wrapped around her shoulders as she stood.
“Because their entire culture relies on the technology they’ve created.
If they aren’t able to communicate that only military targets are being affected, worldwide panic ensues. ”
The commander pursed his lips but stayed quiet.
“I also want warning packets transmitted in Scozid civilian, military, and scientific cadence sent before deployment.”
“They’ll ignore the warnings,” the commander said.
She pinned him with a stare. “Their leaders might. Civilians might not. Use local neutral phrasing. No challenge structure, no submission language, no victory claims.”
Det’ae inclined her head. “Draft it and I’ll see it’s sent.”
Willow looked at the weapon projection again. Her stomach turned. “Fine, but I want it on the record that I think this is a horrible idea.”
The commander snorted. “Your objection is noted.”
She was really beginning to hate this guy. “Not noted. Recorded. On the record.”
Det’ae gave a small nod. “Recorded.”
Willow nodded and the room tilted. Renjik was instantly there steadying her with his natural arm around her waist. The synth arm lifted, hesitated, and then dropped away.
The hesitation was exhausting. She turned and pressed her forehead to his chest. “I need a room and a few hours alone.”
“Migraine?”
“No. Just the desire to throw politicians out an airlock.”
Renjik’s voice dropped. “You have it.” Louder, to the gathered council, he added, “Dr. Benally requires a few hours rest.”
Det’ae nodded. “She’ll not be disturbed unless a new development needs immediate attention.”
Willow huffed. She addressed Renjik’s chest. “Is the room dark?”
“Yes.”
“Quiet?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. If anyone asks me to calibrate an apocalypse in the next four hours, tell them I died of tragic administrative fatigue.”
His chest bounced as he laughed, taking her head with it. She groaned and he picked her up.
She really could walk.
But being carried was nice, too.
RENJIK CARRIED WILLOW to his quarters and locked the door behind them. He carefully set her on his bed, took a few seconds to tamp down the fire that seared through him at the sight, and then went to the control panel.
He set every window to opaque, dimmed the lights to just above full dark, disabled every nonessential notification, and sent a message to command that he and Dr. Benally weren’t to be disturbed. Not even if Scozid appeared in the council chamber.
He lowered the temperature and retrieved a bottle of water. As he set it on the table next to the bed, she rolled over and mumbled, “Gimmie.”
Her fingers brushed over his as she took it.
Heat moved through him with a force that nearly dropped him.
The rhun that he’d just pushed down flooded back.
It had been clawing at him since the escape pod.
No, before that. Since he first saw her.
Since she’d walked into the room and cut through the gathered council’s panic with a voice that demanded attention.
It wasn’t too bad before he recognized it as rhun—until his mouth brushed hers.
It had lived under his skin ever since. Every breath her scent filled his lungs and stoked the fire.
He should leave. Put several locked doors between them before instinct took over and made him careless. He’d been careless once.
His eyes dropped to her arm. To the spot where his cybernetic arm grabbed her.
Willow sighed and his eyes flew to hers.