“There’s a cure.” He was O.E. in microcosm: a jumble of half-truths and misconceptions repeated often enough to shape a measure of narrative. This man before her as much an alien to her now as if he had tentacles sprouting from his neck. Muungano and O.E. had grown so far apart in so little time, she barely acknowledged them as the same species at this point.

“You dangle my son’s life in front of me? You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“It’s the game of control. All machinations are about control. Of the research. Of the wormhole. Of access.”

“So what you are attempting to present me is the choice between the life of my son and the future of my community.”

“In the end, history is about choices. And its lesson is about how powerless everyone truly is.”

Stacia threw her head back with the kind of laughter Ugenini folks in mzungu spaces uttered to temper their rage and prevented them from falling into the hands of law enforcement. The kind of laughter that doubled as a prayer for strength.

“And Paki?”

“He investigated places he shouldn’t have. He was on the verge of unraveling the work of many of my assets. He’s being kept safe, but out of play. A further assurance.”

“Your … assets?” Stacia released her grip. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To see about your assets.”

Kenya and the rest of the security team parted as she stormed out the antechamber door. Zenith trailed behind her, his steps scampering like a puppy failing to keep pace with its owner. She stopped at the docking storage bay unit that held Hondo. The door opened. Hondo looked up, his expression a frieze of pain, embarrassment, and fear of his life unraveling before him.

“Is he yours?” Stacia’s voice low and measured.

“Yes. And I would request a shuttle so that we can take our leave while you consider your options. The virus might prove more unpredictable than our doctors guessed. So don’t take too long.” He managed to resist the urge to punctuate the statement with a supercilious grin.

“I can’t ultimately, can I? Because I’m powerless.” Stacia closed the bay doors again.

“Sometimes we just have to realize our place in the greater scheme of the powerful forces around us.” The cybernetic interface of his left eye scanned her. His thin lips curled, hitching his still-perfectly-groomed white goatee.

“You’re right.” A panel lowered, revealing a window partition. Stacia punched the intercom button. “Hondo, did you know?”

“Know what?” He rose, not knowing where to direct his answer, before aiming it at the door.

“About what Prebius’s offer was to me.”

“I don’t…” Hondo held his hands up and backed away from the door like he feared an angry maternal tiger was on the other side of it.