“What happens when you meet with the Chancellor?” he finally asks. “A false surrender can only last so long before we need to act.”
I lean toward him, my voice urgent. “You know what Eden said to me this morning? ‘Too bad everyone in the Republic can’t be a soldier.’ But they can.”
Anden stays silent.
“Let me mark each of the sectors in the Republic, something that will let the people know that they can’t just lie down and let the Colonies take over their homes, something that will ask them to wait for my signal and remind them what we’re all fighting for. Then, when I make the announcement that the Colonies’ Chancellor wants me to make, I won’t call on the people to embrace the Colonies. I’ll call them to action.”
“And what if they don’t respond to your call?” June says.
I shoot her a quick smile. “Have some faith, sweetheart. The people love me.”
In spite of herself, June smiles back.
I turn to Anden. Seriousness replaces my flash of amusement. “The people love the Republic more than you think,” I say. “More than I thought. You know the number of times I saw evacuees around here singing patriotic Republic songs? You know how much graffiti I’ve seen over the last few months that support both you and the country?” A note of passion enters my voice. “The people do believe in you. They believe in us. And they will fight back for us if we call on them—they’ll be the ones ripping down Colonies flags, protesting in front of Colonies offices, turning their own homes into traps for invading Colonies soldiers.” I narrow my eyes. “They’ll become a million versions of me.”
Anden and I stare at each other. Finally, he smiles.
“Well,” June says to me, “while you’re busy becoming the Colonies’ most wanted criminal, the Patriots and I can join in your stunts. We’ll pull them on a national level. If Antarctica protests, the Republic can just say they were the actions of a few vigilantes. If the Colonies want to play dirty, then let’s play dirty.”
1700 HOURS.
BATALLA HALL.
68° F.
I HATE SENATE MEETINGS. I HATE THEM WITH A PASSION—nothing but a sea of bickering politicians and talking heads, talking talking talking all the time when I could instead be out in the streets, giving my mind and body a healthy workout. But after the plan that Day, Anden, and I have concocted, there’s no choice but to brief the Senate. Now I sit in the circular meeting chamber at Batalla Hall, my seat facing Anden from across the room, trying to ignore the intimidating looks from the Senators. Few events leave me feeling more like a child than Senate meetings.
Anden addresses his restless audience. “Attacks against our bases in Vegas have picked up since Denver fell,” he says. “We’ve seen African squadrons approaching the city. Tomorrow, I head out to meet my generals there.” He hesitates here. I hold my breath. I know how much Anden hates the idea of voicing defeat to anyone, especially to the Colonies. He looks at me—my cue to help him. He’s so tired. We all are. “Ms. Iparis,” he calls out. “If you please, I hand the floor over to you to explain your story and your advice.”
I take a deep breath. Addressing the Senate: the one thing I hate more than attending Senate meetings, made even worse by the fact that I have to sell them a lie. “By now, I’m sure all of you have heard about Commander Jameson’s supposed work for the Colonies. Based on what we know, it seems likely that the Colonies will hit Los Angeles with a surprise attack very soon. If they do, and the attacks on Vegas continue, we won’t last for long. After talking with Day and the Patriots, we suggest that the only way to protect our civilians and to possibly negotiate a fair treaty is to announce our surrender to the Colonies.”
Stunned silence. Then, the room bursts into chatter. Serge is the first to raise his voice and challenge Anden. “With all due respect, Elector,” he says, his voice quivering with irritation, “you did not discuss this with your other Princeps-Elects.”
“It was not something I had an opportunity to discuss with you before now,” Anden replies. “Ms. Iparis’s knowledge comes only because she was unfortunate enough to experience it firsthand.”
Even Mariana, often on Anden’s side, raises her voice against the idea. “This is a dangerous negotiation,” she says. At least she speaks calmly. “If you are doing this to spare our lives, then I recommend you and Ms. Iparis reconsider immediately. Handing the people to the Colonies will not protect them.”
The other Senators don’t show the same restraint.
“A surrender? We have kept the Colonies off our land for almost a hundred years!”
“Surely we’re not all that weakened yet? What have they done, aside from temporarily winning Denver?”
“Elector, this is something you should have discussed with all of us—even in the midst of this crisis!”
I look on as each voice rises higher than the next, until the entire chamber fills with the sound of insults, anger, and disbelief. Some spew hatred over Day. Some curse the Colonies. Some beg Anden to reconsider, to ask for more international help, to plead for the United Nations to stop sealing our ports. Noise.
“This is an outrage!” one Senator (thin, probably no more than a hundred and forty pounds, with a gleaming bald head) barks, looking at me as if I’m responsible for the entire country’s downfall. “Surely we’re not taking direction from a little girl? And from Day? You must be joking. We’ll hand the country over based on the advice of some damn boy who should still be on our nation’s criminal list!”