“I’m not,” I said, keeping my voice low. “No, this is… fuck this, especially if they’re going after a kid like Kenzie—”

“They’d relish the chance,” Miss Militia interrupted.

“Yay,” Kenzie said, her voice small.

“Sorry. You said you wanted to know.”

“I do. Thank you, you’re super nice, but I’m a tiny bit scared now. Plus I think I’d have to disconnect and that’d make me more scared.”

“Disconnect from?” Miss Militia asked.

“My team’s headquarters.”

“Kid Win was similar,” Vista said. “My old teammate. Couldn’t take him away from his workshop too long or he’d get antsy.”

“Haha, yeah,” Kenzie said. Then, as if renewing her efforts, she launched into quiet chatter with a different tone, “At least we’re somewhere pretty. Every building, all the clothes, the language—”

“Something nice to say about anyone, even the guys who are jailing us?” Tristan asked.

“I’m sure they have good reasons.”

I repeated myself, “I don’t think this is right, I don’t think this is okay, especially if it involves Kenzie or people who are only here for functional purposes, like Vista or Golem. But I’d rather stay and go through their charade if it means securing supplies for people back on Gimel.”

“Yeah,” Kenzie said. “I’ve been hurt before. I just don’t want to be hurt and alone.”

She wasn’t talking about her computers or tech. She was linked in to Darlene and possibly the others.

“I won’t let it happen,” Ashley said.

Kenzie made a nervous sound, halfway to a laugh. “I hope so. Just a bit nervous now. Not that I don’t believe in you.”

Ashley put a hand on Kenzie’s head. “Be brave, look confident.”

“Their motivation isn’t the pain,” Miss Militia said. “It’s about posture and position. They’re playing a game of chicken, knowing we could threaten them, but they hold supplies hostage. Even if we went to war, which we absolutely won’t and can’t do, we wouldn’t have their cooperation or supplies in the meantime, and that would cost us too much.”

“Please tell me Luis is arguing for something milder and winning that argument,” Sveta said.

“He’s arguing,” Miss Militia said. Answering only part of the statement.

As if her words had been a mechanism, Luis fell silent, his argument ended.

Aian said something in response. I could see Miss Militia’s posture change. I could see Aian in the boxy robes punch a fist out to his left.

With the way the groups were arranged, Luis’s group, the Founders, were to our left. There was a group that hadn’t spoken yet, then Yosef’s, two more groups that had been mostly silent, then Aian’s. To Aian’s left was the group with my mother, father, Marquis, Spruce, and Chris.

And my sister. Aian’s fist extended to her, specifically.