Zoe's Tale

“I hope some of the Obin know they’ve named themselves after a definite article,” I said.

 

“We are all aware of the meaning of the words,” Dock said. “What was important is the association to you. You named these two ‘Hickory’ and ‘Dickory.’ Everything followed from there.”

 

I had been getting sidetracked by the idea that an entire fearsome race of aliens had given themselves goofy names because of the names I had thoughtlessly given two of them more than a decade before; this comment by Dock snapped me back into focus. It was a reminder that the Obin, with their new consciousness, had so identified with me, so imprinted on me, even as a child, that even a nursery rhyme I liked carried weight.

 

Demand something back.

 

My stomach cramped up. I ignored it.

 

“Hickory,” I said. “Are you and Dickory recording right now?”

 

“Yes,” Hickory said.

 

“Stop please,” I said. “Councilor Dock, are you recording this right now?”

 

“I am,” it said. “Although only for my personal recollection.”

 

“Please stop,” I said. They all stopped recording.

 

“Have we offended you?” Dock asked.

 

“No,” I said. “But I don’t think you’ll want this as part of the permanent record.” I took a deep breath. “I require something from the Obin, Councilor.”

 

“Tell me what it is,” Dock said. “I will try to find it for you.”

 

“I require the Obin to help me defend Roanoke,” I said.

 

“I am afraid we are unable to help you with that request,” Dock said.

 

“It’s not a request,” I said.

 

“I do not understand,” Dock said.

 

“I said, it’s not a request. I didn’t request the Obin’s help, Councilor. I said I require it. There’s a difference.”

 

“We cannot comply,” Dock said. “The Colonial Union has requested that we provide no assistance to Roanoke.”

 

“I don’t care,” I said. “What the Colonial Union wants at this point means absolutely nothing to me. The Colonial Union is planning to let everyone I care about die because it’s decided Roanoke is more useful as a symbol than a colony. I don’t give a crap about the symbolism. I care about the people. My friends and family. They need help. And I require it from you.”

 

“Assisting you means breaking our treaty with the Colonial Union,” Dock said.

 

“Your treaty,” I said. “That would be the one that allows you access to me.”

 

“Yes,” Dickory said.

 

“You realize you have me,” I said. “On this ship. Technically on Obin territory. You don’t need Colonial Union permission to see me anymore.”

 

“Our treaty with the Colonial Union is not only about access to you,” Dock said. “It covers many issues, including our access to the consciousness machines we wear. We cannot go against this treaty, even for you.”

 

“Then don’t break it,” I said, and this is where I mentally crossed my fingers. I knew the Obin would say they couldn’t break their treaty with the Colonial Union; Hickory had said so before. This is where things were about to get really tricky. “I require the Obin help me defend Roanoke, Councilor. I didn’t say the Obin had to do it themselves.”

 

“I am afraid I do not understand you,” Dock said.

 

“Get someone else to help me,” I said. “Hint to them that the help would be appreciated. Do whatever you have to do.”

 

“We would not be able to hide our influence,” Dock said. “The Colonial Union will not be swayed by the argument that our forcing another race to act on your behalf does not constitute interference.”

 

“Then ask someone the Colonial Union knows you can’t force,” I said.

 

“Whom do you suggest?” Dock asked.

 

There’s an old expression for when you do something completely crazy. “Shooting the moon,” it’s called.

 

This was me raising my rifle.

 

“The Consu,” I said.

 

Blam. There went my shot at a very faraway moon.

 

But it was a shot I had to take. The Obin were obsessed with the Consu, for perfectly excellent reasons: How could you not be obsessed with the creatures that gave you intelligence, and then ignored you for the rest of eternity? The Consu had spoken to the Obin only once since they gave them consciousness, and that conversation came at the high cost of half of all Obin, everywhere. I remembered that cost. I planned to use it to my advantage now.

 

“The Consu do not speak to us,” Dock said.

 

“Make them,” I said.

 

“We do not know how,” Dock said.

 

“Find a way,” I said. “I know how the Obin feel about the Consu, Councilor. I’ve studied them. I’ve studied you. Hickory and Dickory made a story about them. Obin’s first creation myth, except it’s true. I know how you got them to speak to you. And I know you’ve tried to get them to speak to you again since then. Tell me it’s not true.”

 

“It’s true,” Dock said.

 

“I’m willing to guess you’re still working on it even now,” I said.

 

“We are,” Dock said. “We have been.”

 

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