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“Yet an entire species believes,” I say. “Every report we have indicates it is so. That belief, above all else, is the most dangerous thing we face.”
“Which is exactly why I want your people out of there. We are going to wipe out the Urr’ki and finish this problem. Once and for all.”
There is a fluttering in my stomach that causes me to pause before I speak. It feels like a light brushing on some part of my guts. I place my hands over my belly, smiling at my child. Growing strong and quite possibly reacting to the tension in the room.
You are the future. I do all of this for you and those who will come with you.
Warmth fills my head as I consider her. Or him. There is no knowing the sex of the coming child. All the tools that would have accomplished that were destroyed in the wreck, but I feel like it’s a girl. Visidion has made it clear he would prefer a girl and in the deepest part of my heart I feel the same, though I will never say so out loud. It’s not like I will love this child any less if it’s a boy. One sex or another, it is my miracle child.
“I know you do not believe me when I say this,” I say. “But we need them.”
“Bah,” the Al’fa waves a dismissive hand. “You are right, I do not believe you. An Urr’ki is as unnecessary as a third wing. Pointless and a waste of space.”
He chuckles in amusement at his own analogy. No one else in the room joins him, which is good. I’m making progress on them at least. I hold the Al’fa’s gaze, meeting his mirth with a glare.
“As we have argued to no end,” I say. “You are not correct.”
“You worry about more Star People,” he says, losing all hints of humor. “But in my eyes, you are Star People. Did your people not come from a ship far above Tajss?”
“We did and you damn well know it,” I snap. “But you also know we are not from this galaxy. We had nothing to do with what happened to your people. Or to this planet. And now we are every much a part of Tajss as you. As are the Urr’ki.”
“Bah, they are not part of Tajss. If they are, then they are the refuse of a dying breed that should no longer exist.”
“You never said such things to Mazabuta,” I point out.
He snaps his mouth shut as I cut off further pointless diatribe. He sounds racist, if that term applies when it’s a completely distinct species, but he doesn’t believe his words. He is speaking out of old hatreds, wounds, and hurts.
It is, on the whole, more lip service to the past then what is in his heart, which is why I continue arguing with him. If I thought he really believed half the things that he says I would have to be coming up with a different solution for handling him than talking. Something that unfortunately would have to be more permanent.
“Bah, he was different,” the Al’fa says dismissively turning away. “An exception to the rule that all Urr’ki are worthless.”
I walk around the table until I’m standing directly in front of him. He towers over even my height, which is not insignificant for a human woman. The swell of my belly presses into him I’m so close. I crane my neck to look up at him. He glares down, his nostrils flaring, mouth in a tight grimace.
“You can choose to believe me or not,” I say. “But know this. You gave me your word. I expect you to…”
I trail off as the room vibrates. I look around for the source. Loose parts of the model dance across the table and decorations on the wall rattle and bounce.
“What?” Zat’an says, but before he can say more I’m thrown off my feet as the vibrations become a full on rocking.
“Ros!” Visidion yells.
In my peripheral I see him leap up and over the model table. His wings snapping wide he flies through the air.
I’m in the air too but falling back. Mentally I try to brace myself for the coming impact while also struggling to understand what is happening. The only comparison I have is the attack of a zemlja, but I didn’t think they burrowed under the mountains. So I’ve been told, was that wrong?
Before I hit the ground I am lifting up. Zat’an curls me against his chest, hunching to cover me. Shouts and screams are coming from all around us. Zat’an loses his footing and we fall together. He protects me and cushions the fall with his body.
Vis lands on top of the table then leaps down and throws his body over mine and Zat’an both. Cracks appear in the walls of the room and race from the ground to the ceiling. Dust fills the air. Then the quaking stops. Vis jumps up and grabs me into a cradled hold.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, “thanks to Zat’an.”
“Thank you,” Visidion says to Zat’an who grunts and nods.
“Impossible,” the Al’fa yells. “This has never happened. What was this? Zat’an, report!”
“It was a quake,” Zat’an says. “I’m going to inspect the compound and assess the damage.”
