Welga turned to face Ao Tara. “Aren’t you, like the funders and the caliph, another source of light in a dark room?” The effect was the same, regardless of the cause.

Ao Tara’s expression flickered.

“The difference is that you can change. Come with me,” Welga said. “Testify! Josephine’s letter started this. It’s at the front of that first document. You have a chance to set the course straight and end the fear and violence that you created. You claim to be compassionate. Think of how much death and destruction this path has caused—to humans and machines—here and on Earth. Think of Khandro.

“Return to Earth and trade your freedom for hers,” Welga urged. “You want me to have a change of heart? Then show some good faith in return. You say you’ve set the Machinehood in motion as an act of ultimate liberation. You ask your dakini to sacrifice their lives for this. Prove to me that you’re willing to do at least that much, and I swear that I’ll accompany Khandro back here.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll continue the work of the dakini as an ambassador instead of a warrior.”

Her visual lit up with messages from people around the station.

One caught her attention: Haven’t we suffered enough? Our son is dead. Your former government has our daughter, and she’ll die unless you can negotiate her return. Now you ask our leader, once my wife, to give herself up as well? After four years of living off-world, that’s a death sentence!

Josephine’s husband.

Clemence stretched out a hand. “We should go, not Ao Tara. Our sister needs us to bring her home. We can take turns as hostages—or prisoners—if that’s what the world demands. We started this. Let us be the ones who stop it.”

Others, including some of the council members, encouraged Ao Tara to go. They wanted an end to the conflict. If one monk’s sacrifice could bring that about and move the world forward, if it set humanity on the path to enlightenment, then it would constitute right conduct. A few thanked Welga for opening her mind to a nonviolent resolution.

Ao Tara hung in silence, her gaze unfocused.

She meditates, Clemence thought. This is your doing and her undoing.

They waited.

She struggles. Clemence again.

Don’t we all? Welga replied.

After several minutes, Ao Tara spoke. “Humans own their actions. We are defined by what we do, past, present, and future. But we must free ourselves from attachment to the results, and that is my present burden.” She focused on Welga. “We should act in a manner that’s consistent with our nature and our beliefs: compassion, and well-being for all.”