Amy Foster - The Rift Coda

Navaa puts her hands together, slender tapers that she squeezes tightly on the table in front of her. “If we lose you, we lose any chance of being able to Rift off this Earth safely, of forming alliances with other Citadels. At least take a strike unit of ours with you in case—”

“No way,” Levi jumps in. “If a Roone sees you, then we’re busted. Not to mention that we can’t do things the way you did them here. We kinda tried that already and it led to a coup. We need to find another way, and maybe some of our people will have an answer,” Levi argues, echoing my own internal thoughts.

Navaa frowns, as if there was no way us pitiful humans would be able to solve the problem if they couldn’t.

“Enough,” I say, leaning back into the seat. “We’re going. Today. Navaa, please don’t be offended when I tell you that I wasn’t asking permission. I was simply informing you of our plans out of courtesy.”

The entire Faida delegation is purse lipped, as if they had been sucking on lemons. “Thank you all,” I tell them as I stand. “The briefing was illuminating. I’m really encouraged.” I don’t mean to sound like a smart-ass, but I probably do. And I really don’t care. I can’t defer to them. Not now. Not ever.

Everyone else around the table also makes a move to leave. Ezra ambles over in our general direction and we all walk out of the room together. He kept his mouth shut. I’ll give him that much.

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