“… measured? We’re past the point of that kind of response. Precision is a luxury never afforded us. Even exact strikes count many of our bodies as collateral damage. We’re always acceptable losses in some people’s eyes. How many times must they take one of our own before we find the courage to act? We can’t allow them to strike us again while we wait on our investigations. We know enough and suspect even more. Anything less than treating O.E. as a serious, ongoing threat risks Muungano. And anyone who drags their feet in action, a coward.”

Wachiru’s eyes snap to full wakefulness then. I have his attention, stirring the well of his anger. Good, he should get mad. They all should.

“Now hold on, Maulana. We understand your loss and pain…” Sensing the percolating fight, Bayard defaults to his peacekeeper mode. He steps between us as if blocking our direct line of sight with each other will still the bubbling rage.

“You understand nothing.” I snap louder than I intend, but those with ears need to hear. “I hurt, yes, because we hurt. We have been attacked. We lost Xola. We lost my sister. We grieve loss after loss after loss. And we are angry.”

“Maulana.” His face softening, Wachiru composes himself, a note of genuine concern creeps into his tone. “Are you well? Should you even be here right now?”

“I have no place I need to be more.” Because there will be no body to grieve over. Fela died alone and unburied on an alien world. I will not participate in any empty rituals that deny that. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We have some decisions to make.”

“Yes, we do. We cannot neglect our calling as professional dreamers. We dreamt of a better community. We dreamt of being better neighbors. We dreamt of correcting inequalities. We dreamt of correcting injustices.” Wachiru paces about the dais. Confidence exudes from him, an artist performing at a standing-room-only venue. “We have a proverb: ‘If you hate someone, please hate them alone. Don’t recruit other people to hate them with you.’ Too long we dined on hate, been force-fed inhumanity, and absorb all of the casual brutality that comes with the crime of having been born weusi. We should also fear what we might become in our retaliation.”

“And I fear what we might become if we don’t retaliate.” A few members of the Ijo nod alongside me.

“As I stated,” Wachiru begins, leaving a space for the words before we lost your sister, “we need to isolate O.E. Starting with sanctions. Freezing our diplomatic relations. We should also extend our formalized alliance with Mars, not just Bronzeville. And we need to fortify our borders.”