Tannis frowned. “I thought you had to let them in—that anyone who wanted to make contact had to ask first.”
“Usually, that’s true.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, then shook her head. “He was so powerful. It was like being hit with a blaster shot at close range.”
“Fucking bastard,” Rico snarled. “What the hell would have happened if he’d pulled that stunt while you were doing something dangerous? He could have killed you.”
“You know we’re not that easy to kill.”
“That’s beside the fucking point.”
“So what did he say?” Tannis tried to keep the excitement from her voice, but knew she’d failed when Rico shot her a dirty look.
“He wants us there now,” Skylar replied.
“Where?”
“Down on the planet. He’s transmitting a code to the ship to guide us in, and he wants us to be ready to take off fast.”
“And did he say why?”
She shook her head.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rico muttered. “Arrogant bastard.”
Janey jumped up from her place at the table. “Let’s have a look at what’s going on.” She strolled across the room in her high heels and switched on one of the viewing screens. The monitor showed a large stadium filled with milling people. An empty podium stood at the front.
“Apparently, the Collective are about to make an announcement—”
“About bloody time.”
“—and the whole world’s listening.”
A wave of excitement built inside her. This was it. “Let’s get to the bridge,” she ordered. “Make sure we’re ready for that fast getaway.” Her mind was already turning over the possibilities. Would he come on board? Why did they need to leave fast? What was he actually going to reveal to the world?
“Tannis—”
She paused in the doorway as Rico spoke her name. “Yes?”
“Be careful.”
It came to her then. Rico wasn’t worried about Skylar. He was worried about her.
…
“We think you’re making a big mistake.”
Callum broke off the contact with Skylar and opened his eyes. After looking around the room, he had an urge to crawl under the table and sleep away the rest of this meeting. He’d long ago reached the conclusion that being the most powerful man in the whole universe was not all it was cracked up to be.
In fact, the job was a pile of shit.
Some days, he thought he might scream from the constant, petty-minded bureaucracy that was his life. But even in a never-ending string of boring, meeting-filled days, this one was pretty high up on his list of “times that make me wish I’d never encountered Meridian.”
Yeah, he knew the Council thought it a mistake to go public with the changes the Collective were going through—they’d told him constantly for a month now.
He shoved back his chair, jumped to his feet, and paced the chamber, only turning to face his Council when he reached the far wall. He flexed his wings and every single one of them winced. Well, everyone except the colonel, who stood at the rear, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, a slight smile on his face.
What do you think? Is it a mistake? Callum spoke in his mind on a level that wouldn’t be picked up by the others.
Probably. The colonel gave a small shrug. You’re fighting a losing battle. They’re afraid.
What about you? Callum asked. Are you afraid?
Nah.
You ever been afraid?
Nah.
The colonel wore the uniform of the Collective’s private army, the Corps, a black jumpsuit with the violet insignia at his chest. He was the best soldier Callum had ever encountered, but he looked like a boy dressed up. He’d been eighteen when he’d taken the Meridian treatment, and while some people changed, the colonel hadn’t aged at all in the years since. But while he hadn’t been a boy in over three hundred years, he was still two hundred years younger than the rest of the Council. This small group was the first to have encountered Meridian over five hundred years ago when they’d crash-landed on Trakis Seven.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Tyler mumbled.
It took Callum a moment to realize he meant the wing thing, and he flexed them again.
Tyler leaned back in his chair and winced again, this time from pain, because he’d amputated his own wings—an operation that needed to be repeated every few weeks as they simply regrew.
But Callum liked his wings and had no wish to cut them off. He’d practiced in private and now could fly short distances—how cool was that? Now the one month he’d given the Council to decide how to go about revealing the changes to the world had passed, he couldn’t wait to go outside for a real fly.
He flexed them again just to piss the Council off a little more and caught a grin on the colonel’s face. Then he sighed. He wanted their cooperation, and this probably wasn’t the way to go about getting it.
But hell, the wings were great. He gave them one last little flap, bit back his smile at their sour expressions, and folded them neatly.