Page 88 of Command

“Ask,” he prompted.

“I need you to take better care of the people down on the CRD. Get them proper medical care. Get them food. Fix the overcrowding. Some of them can clearly come back up here—there’s room, even with your people.”

Threxin’s brow drew back in surprise. He had expected… something different. He had certainly not expected her to request major policy changes.

“And I need you to let registered people Upload,” she said, words coming fast but firm.

Threxin ran a thumb over his mouth as he considered the sudden appearance of these demands. Not the demands themselves, of course, they were ridiculous. Butsomethinghad gotten into Alina’s head between that morning and now, and he was very much looking forward to finding out what it was.

“I will think,” he said. It was not entirely a lie. He would certainly be giving this conversation much thought, just perhaps not in the way she would like. Her requests were illogical.

“Well, can you think fast? Because people are dying out there,” Alina blurted.

He leaned back, watching her.

“Your kind is weak?—”

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered under her breath, and the way she rolled her eyes made his limiter kick in, his talons flexing.

“Your kind is weak,” he continued, “but idiotically belligerent. I cannot afford to have more of you up here.”

“Then treat them better down there!”

“What doyouknow about that deck, human?” Threxin watched her closely. “I take it you went down there. How?”

She scoffed at that, and it made black threads tighten beneath his ribs until his brain was forced back down.

“I’m not going to tell you how I know, Threxin,” she said, crossing her own arms atop her chest in a mirror of his stance.

“You know I can make you.” She heard the chill in his voice; he could tell by the way her eyes widened for a flash of a moment. And the way fresh fear rolled off her skin.

“Like you did Per Halen?” she asked quietly, swallowing.

He should say that yes, he could force her to talkexactlylike that. Something told him she would break faster. But Threxin hissed through his fangs as he stared at her panicked eyes even as she tried to hide her terror.

“Shoq, Alina.” He clasped a hand to the spikes at his neck and looked at the ceiling. “No. I cannot hurt you.”

“Youcanthough,” she said, voice shaking but defiant.

“No.” Threxin turned his eyes back to her—a heavy stare she markedly avoided. “I cannot.”

“Well then, do this for me,” Alina insisted. “Help the people down there and restart Uploads. Please.”

“Humans are prone to riots.”

“Like the one that got a bunch of people killed the night you got attacked,” Alina ground out. “I know. I saw the bodies. And the riotstartedbecause you shoved them all down there with no idea what’s going on! And now those registered for Upload are dying, including down there. Of course they’re going to riot, Threxin. Iwould. God, how can you not understand?”

“I understand very well, human,” Threxin said. “Your loyalty lies with your kind. It always will. You do not consider whether allowing Upload will endanger me or my cohort.”

“Of course I do!” She sprang up from her seat to face him fully, tiny hands balled into fists. “I consider you every damn day while I try to find ways to convince Kaia and the others to… to…”

“To what?” Threxin asked, tilting his head slightly, watching her. She did not look at him, but he did. He watched the hesitation in her eyes.

“To see you. To see you aren’t a monster. Only sometimes even I wonder if you are.”

Threxin shook his head, a human gesture he’d picked up from Alina. “They do not need to know, and neither do you.”

It did not matter. His job was not to prove to humans thathe was making the right decisions. It was to lead his cohort,andthem, to the most workably practical solution.

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