“You sound so certain.”
“I don’t have any doubt, Charlotte. I never have.”
“I, on the other hand, feel that there is a strong possibility that everything will get blown up in the near future, and that your father will be involved in some way, and furthermore, that that’s probably why he has his doubts about peace.”
“Second thought: let’s not talk about my father tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry. Fair enough. I’m sure he’s just swell, deep down.”
Eren rolled his eyes.
“Like, way, way deep down.”
“I get it, Charlotte.”
“A million miles down. Past all the ragey, angry stuff.”
Eren laughed. “You don’t know him like I do.”
“Let’s just say that goes both ways. Hey, this is a bit off-topic, sorry,” I said. “But remember that time he tortured me? Then tried to have me killed?”
The humor drained from his eyes in an instant. He did not answer me, but there was a darkness on his face I hadn’t seen before.
“Hey, I’m just kidding around,” I said lightly. “I mean, not about your dad. He’s actually the worst. But I’m fine now, and look! We’re here! Together.”
I smiled up at him, hoping to regain something of our usual rapport, but instead of smiling back, he kissed me.
Finally.
I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kissed him back. Slowly, at first, and then more deeply. His hands left mine and wound their way into my hair, causing the ship to vanish around us, along with the stars and the coming war.
I lost myself in his arms. I hoped he would never let go, but at last, he stopped, smiled, and looked straight into my eyes. I felt, in that moment, that he was right about everything. We would find peace. All of us. Eren was with me, and everything was possible.
“Well,” I said. “That’s one small step for intra-ark relations, anyway. Seriously, though, I am such a good diplomat right now.”
“I don’t think that’s what they meant when they wanted us to—”
“Shh,” I said, leaning in for another kiss. But Eren took a step back, still smiling, and I kept right on talking, high from being in his arms after six long weeks of separation. “I mean, at this rate, we’ll have them laying down arms by next weeken—Hey, Eren. What are you doing?”
He held me at arm’s length, taking both my hands in his and joining them together between us.
“That was the hardest six weeks of my life, being without you. I couldn’t think of anything else. I just wondered what was happening to you and if I’d ever see you again. And you’re right, you know? We can stop the conflict forever, as long as we’re together. With you by my side, I know we will.”
“Eren,” I began, but quickly lost my voice.
Eren turned around to see what had so surprised me, and squeezed my hands tighter when he locked eyes with his father.
The Commander took a steady step toward us.
I fought the urge to step back, but I could not stop my hands from going limp in Eren’s.
I looked from one man to the other, feeling warm and numb at the same time, and felt my head shake in disbelief. The Commander’s eyes were every bit as blue as Eren’s, but somehow a different color entirely. His gaze turned to me, and we were frozen, the three of us.
“Father,” said Eren, choking on the word.
But the Commander ignored him and spoke directly to me. “Ambassador.” His voice was like ice and steel, and tempered by years of absolute authority. “The Imperial has arrived. You are expected downstairs.”
Fourteen
I hit the stairs with a lot less difficulty than before, probably because the rest of the ship, other than the “balcony,” was oriented in the same direction. Eren came flying down after me.
“Charlotte, just a moment,” he said. “Let me escort you in.”
We entered the ballroom to the obvious notice of nearly everyone there. I squared my shoulders and smiled as calmly as I could.
“I still need to talk to you,” he said in a low voice. “It’s important.”
“Yeah, well,” I whispered back. “Right now I have to talk to the Imperial. That’s the whole reason I’m here. But Eren, listen. If you’re trying to get me to come back to Central Command, that’s not gonna happen.”
He flashed me a pained look, but adjusted his face to something more pleasant almost immediately.
“I mean, it’s just a bad idea,” I said hurriedly. “Anyway, your dad will never go for it.”
The Imperial’s private escort, including An and Shan, were waiting on the far wall of the room, and he led me through the near-silent crowd without much of an expression at all.
“Greetings, Ambassadors,” An appeared from her place in the Imperial’s escort to take my free arm, and I released Eren. He gave a little nod and left us. An led me through the crowd. “The Remnant’s delegation will undertake the first negotiation with the Imperial, followed by a rebuttal from Central Command. Then the pod will open for any other Ark whose delegation would like to speak with the Imperial.”
“Thank you, An,” I said.
“My pleasure. You are well acquainted with the Commander’s son?”
“I—uh, yes. I mean, it’s a surprise, seeing him here.”
“Not an unpleasant one, I think. You do not smile in this way for many others.”
“Am I smiling? I hadn’t noticed.”
“It must be difficult,” she said, staring past the crowd at the Imperial guard. “Knowing that what is desired cannot be obtained.” Her gaze caught Shan’s attention, and he gave her an oblique nod, to which she did not respond.
I didn’t have an answer for that. But then, it didn’t sound like much of a question, anyway. In fact, the way she said it, it barely seemed like she was referring to me at all.
She guided me to a circular pod behind the brightly robed escort and lowered her head. The pod reminded me of a giant teacup, especially when the nearest guard opened a door at its handle. Inside sat a small, elderly man. He looked exactly as I expected the Imperial to be: richly dressed, with a long, thin white beard. His delicately lined face was the perfect blend of grandfather and headmaster.
“Your Imperial Highness, may I present Charlotte Turner, Ambassador from the Remnant of North America. Ambassador, this is the Imperial of the Asian Ark, Sovereign Protector of His People, Defender of the Treaty of Phoenix, and Sentinel of the Peace of this Galaxy.”
I bowed, aping An’s graceful motion, and tried to get my head around what kind of person needed that many titles. Even the Commander got by with only one, and he had the most inflated ego I’d ever known. Which, to be honest, was saying something.
The Imperial inclined his head a millionth of an inch, and I took an unsteady seat in the pod next to him. The guards shut the door, and I looked up at him expectantly.
“Your Highness, thank you so much for hav—oh, we’re moving,” I said, and grabbed his arm out of instinct. My seat was lifting toward the glass ceiling. Actually, the entire pod was going up.
His eyes widened, and I released him immediately. “I’m so sorry. That was definitely not on purpose, your, uh, Imperial Highness.”
But instead of throwing me out of the pod, he began to laugh. “Ah, Ambassador Turner. I was told that your team did not brief you with any degree of thoroughness. May I assume, my dear, that the Remnant values your honesty as much as I do?”
“I—yes, sir. They do. I mean, we do.”
He smiled. “In that case, I choose to view your lack of preparation as a sign of respect, and we may proceed accordingly.”
I sensed that things were not off to a great start, but if the Imperial was going to be all calm and smiley about this, then darn it, so was I. “Thank you, sir.”
“You are in the Imperial Coach, which is how a foreign dignitary such as yourself may be granted a personal audience. It will make one complete circle around the ballroom, after which
time it will descend, and you may leave. Our present situation serves as a reminder of the awesome responsibility placed on our shoulders by those who crafted the Treaty of Phoenix. Had they not given each Ark power over the others, you might never have sought our approval for the creation of your burgeoning nation. It is a responsibility I undertake with great care, Ambassador. Once I have heard from each of the delegates, I will make my decision.”
I nodded. “Sounds good, sir.”
“I will remind you of your kuang band,” he said, touching my wrist with spindly fingers. “As you may be aware, this band will light green if your words are true and red if they are false. Such a thing has its limitations, of course, as it cannot see beyond your perception, but as a tool for diplomacy, I find it to be of great value.”
From this angle, I could see nearly everyone at the party, except for those on the outermost edges. There were those who danced and small groups who remained leashed to the mountains of food. And there were quiet minglers, standing in pairs, their hands in their pockets.
I did not see any k-bands.
The pod swung to the side, and we began our slow circuit around the dance floor, just inside the rim of the balcony. I saw no track that it followed, nor any mechanism by which it remained against the wall. Instead, it simply slid up, as easily as an arm travels through a sleeve. It must have had its own grav pack, or it followed one embedded into the wall. I closed my eyes, thoroughly unsettled, and forced the issue out of my mind.
From where I sat, I saw that Eren was engaged in a fairly tense conversation with his father, who wore no band. I shook my head and sat up straight. If this was to be my only meeting with the Imperial, I couldn’t afford to blow it.
“Ambassador, if you could state for me the premise of your case, please.”
“I—we, the Remnant, are here to seek your official recognition of our status as an independent nation-state.” I let out a sigh. The gem was green. That much I had worked out ahead of time.
“If you would indulge my curiosity,” he said slowly, “I am plagued with questions about the reasoning behind your position. Why do you not instead seek to obtain citizenship for your people under Central Command? Not a single Ark would oppose you, even in spite of your criminal status, given that we have already lost Ark Five.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “But we’re not like them.” My k-band lit up, and I blinked down at my lap. It was bright green again.
The Imperial nodded his approval. “Not like Central Command?”
“What I mean is, we want different things.”
“Surely, if you should have some grievance against the Commander’s authority, you could take it up with the Tribune?” he said. The Tribune was the highly protected group of thinkers who were charged with upholding the Treaty of Phoenix, and they arguably wielded as much power as any individual Ark’s leadership.
“It’s more than just citizenship; it’s a way of life. They may care about order, but they aren’t preserving justice.”
“The Commander tells me that you lack any semblance of order. How can such a system maintain balance? How can you hope to govern yourselves effectively, if you are made of nothing but criminals?”
“We aren’t criminals!” I said abruptly. The band flashed red, but only briefly. Seeing the shock on his face, I lowered my voice and chose my words carefully. “Not most of us, anyway, and not by any standard that matters.” I took a moment to match the calmness of his tone. “We’re the people who were meant to be left behind. They’ve always intended us to die. You’re older than forty, Your Honor. Surely you can see the value in the people they’ve discarded. That is what the Remnant does as well.”
“I see nothing wrong with saving as many people as we can, but you must see the issue from the point of view of the rest of the world. If we grant you this status, you will find allies. You will build wealth through trading. You will have the authority to create whatever laws you deem necessary. And this is a problem.”
I raised my eyebrows. “May I ask… how?” I asked carefully.
“You cannot hope to achieve peace. I have spoken with the Commander. He is a man capable of leading.”
“A leader needs checks and balances, Your Honor. Like you were saying. It’s a good thing. That’s how our entire system is set up—every Ark in space. It’s why they gave you power over our food supply. It’s why we have the technology you need to maintain weather, and to fight against the Lightness.
“And,” I continued, “only half of us on my Ark are North American. I know you care about everyone from your continent, not just those on your Ark. We have plenty.”
“The Commander is a forceful man, and these are difficult times. He is perhaps not as fair as you would like, but as you have pointed out, sacrifices must be made to attain that which is worth having: peace. He is precisely the kind of man who can restore order and end this folly.”
“Pol Pot was a forceful man,” I said, unable to stop myself from interrupting. “Is that the kind of order you want?”
The Imperial flinched slightly, giving the barest hint that he’d even heard me, and continued to marshal his argument. “I am convinced that, without the Commander, you North Americans will never achieve stability. Your system is fallible, and your claims are paradoxical, Ambassador. How can we promote unity by dividing the Ark’s leadership in half?”
“Our system within the Ark is no different from the system that binds all the Arks together: it depends upon an even distribution of power, Your Highness. Surely you can see the value in providing some balance against the Commander’s reach.”
He remained unpersuaded, impassive. “As long as you fight him, your Ark remains a threat to the rest of us. We cannot afford to be drawn into your war. It is better to allow him to annihilate your little faction and rebuild his government unimpeded.”
I felt cold, then angry. How could the Imperial be so cruel? And how had the Commander already gotten to him? “But that’s exactly why you have to give us our independence!” I said, all thoughts of forced serenity abandoned. “He’s a monster, and you need us. You need the Remnant to be strong enough to stand up to him. You can’t afford to write off my entire Ark. If you want stability, give him something to keep him in check. Legitimize us, so that he won’t keep fighting.”
He pressed forward, but the tiniest drop of resolve had drained from his voice, and he spoke as though he was determined to regain it. “You are a warfaring people. Your entire continent runs red with blood. It is in your very nature.”
“Show me a continent without blood on its hands, Your Highness, and I’ll show you Antarctica.”
I’d landed a blow. I knew it. The Imperial gave no outward indication that he’d even heard me, but I sensed a shift in the tone of the conversation. His eyes were less narrow. And even though his back was as straight as ever, his posture was somehow less rigid.
And yet, if he could not see me as anything more than a young convict determined to be a thorn in the side of the established authority, I would fail. And if I failed, we had so much to lose.
What was really at stake here? More than just the Remnant. Of that, I was certain. And that was what I had to make him understand.
“We want to live, Your Highness.”
He looked at me.
“This Ark is beautiful because it contains life. Your people are worth protecting because they are alive. My Ark is no different.” I lowered my voice. “The Remnant is no different.”
At last, he seemed to hear me. “There are rumors of extra survivors on every Ark,” he said softly, matching my tone.
“And, with one exception, no one has tried to wipe them out. No one wants them punished. And do you know why that is, Your Highness?”
He looked at me, waiting.
“Compassion. I am making an argument for large-scale compassion. It’s the only thing that matters anymore anyway.”
The pod lurched downward, and I realized that the circuit was complete. My t
urn in the Imperial pod was over, and the fragile connection we’d forged was jolted back to reality. His entire demeanor changed before my eyes.
Seconds earlier, I’d been so sure I’d made an impression, but suddenly, the iron returned to his posture. “Even if I wanted to help you, Ambassador, my hands are tied. Your Ark is… unruly, and there is only so much I can do from this position.”
“I’m only asking that you consider it, Your Highness. Consider whether our lives are worth living. Worth saving.”
At last, the rigidity returned to his voice as well. “I have very little faith in your proposal, Ambassador, and if your faction cannot find peace with the Commander, your entire Ark will be destroyed.”
Fifteen
I was escorted from the pod without much decorum, and Isaiah was waiting for me when it opened. It was strange: the Imperial genuinely seemed to agree with me. It was as though some unseen force was making him act otherwise. Was he in thrall to the Commander in some way, or was some other intrigue playing out? Or had I misread him entirely? I needed time to think.
I guided Isaiah to a spot near the edge of the ballroom, but close enough to the dance floor that I could see the faces of Eren and the Imperial, who were taking their own flight around the room.
It felt weird to know that, right at that moment, Eren was fighting against me, seeking to destroy the Remnant at his father’s bidding. Once, after a long stint in juvy, I’d come home and thrown my arms around my scruffy, yellow dog. It was a rough, impulsive, joyful moment. But she’d grown old since I’d seen her last, and she bit my shoulder, sending me flying backwards in shock. It hadn’t hurt, really. It was nothing more than a warning nip, but it made me realize how much I’d clung to the thought of her when I was inside. It made no sense that she didn’t act the way I expected her to. Didn’t we love each other at all? I’d cried for hours, until West came home from school.
The Remnant Page 10
