“I like you too, Yosef. I would also like assurances of my own to start,” Miss Militia said.

There was a pause. A distortion in the echo of translators speaking.

Something wrong? I tensed.

“You confused the translators,” Luis said. “I like this, I would like that, but… hard connection to draw while maintaining the small poetry. Let me—”

He said a single word.

With that, the translation finished uninterrupted. I didn’t feel more relieved. It created a sensation like they had more power, because they controlled the language.

Miss Militia was as unflinching as she ever was.

“What assurances?” Yosef asked.

“I would like to know why governments have changed from this morning. The Coalition is gone.”

“They were made to abstain. Just in case,” Luis said. “We’re deciding what to do about you, about them—”

He indicated us. Breakthrough.

“And about them.”

My mom, dad, Amy, Chris, Marquis, and Marquis’ underling.

What to do? My thoughts were caught between wondering what they even could do and what they were capable of. Did they think they could mass-execute us, or were they coming in from another angle?

“Can we make an appeal?”

“Wouldn’t an appeal eat it’s own tail?”

“What’s the tail?”

“Some would say you’re too dangerous to even talk to. Some of you can change minds with a word, or kill with a whistle from wet lips.”

“You have teeth, but I would get within arm’s reach of you without worrying about my throat.”

“Don’t be deceptive, it’s not like you,” Luis said, and his tone had cooled. “Every last one of you have bigger teeth.”

“I know you, Luis. I know Yosef, and I know the rest of you who haven’t yet joined this conversation. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have threats of your own.”

“Right now we’re supplying enough food to feed two million of your people and we’ll continue doing so through the winter. Amy Dallon pledged assistance and cooperation to increase that amount to five million, possibly to ten. That’s food. Shelter. Clothing. Chemicals. Industry. All deals end now. With her, with you. You get nothing and millions may die. I’m sorry.”

My own surprise at the statement was redoubled when I saw movement in the periphery of my vision, looked, and saw it was Amy hanging her head.

Chris said something to Amy. From what I could catch, it was an ‘I told you so’.

Vista might have looked agitated, because Miss Militia put a hand out.

“We negotiate from that point forward,” Miss Militia said.

“Can we? Do we?” Luis asked.

“No and we don’t,” Yosef said.

“Yes we do,” Miss Militia said.