“Irri –”
“You can’t keep me hostage here!” she interrupts. “Doing nothing, trapped in this prison, while all my friends are out risking their lives! I need to do something worthwhile, for our parents, for myself! Or I will go insane. Do you understand? I will completely lose it! You have to give me something!”
“Nazirah –”
“I’m tired of everyone treating me like a child every second of every day! Like I’m some sort of porcelain doll! Well I’m not, okay? I can handle this, okay? And you know what? I hate dolls! And besides,” she rants, breathless, “isn’t this showing the exact same favoritism that you’ve been condemning? It’s not even favoritism, Niko! It’s like anti-favoritism, because I don’t even want –”
Niko slams his fist on the desk. “Nazirah, shut the hell up for a second, will you?” He rubs his temples. “My God, you’re exactly like Riva! You talk and talk and no one can get a word in edgewise!”
“Sorry, but –”
“Shut up!” he yells. “If you had let me speak from the beginning, you would know that I do have an assignment for you!”
The door creaks open. Nazirah snaps her head around, watching Adamek walk in with the silver Iluxor briefcase. She hasn’t seen him in weeks, not since Aneira’s funeral. His expression is unusually haggard, his hair is slightly tousled, and there is intense sadness in his face. When he sees her, though, every emotion is wiped clean, replaced by his usual mask. Nazirah glances at Nikolaus. His eye twitches once.
“All right there, Morgen?” Nikolaus says.
Adamek nods. “I didn’t realize you had company.” He places the briefcase on Nikolaus’s shelf. “Just returning this,” he says and leaves without another word.
The recruits haven’t had Iluxor training in weeks. Nazirah doesn’t think Adamek gives private sessions. Why had he borrowed it? “What was that about?” she asks Niko.
“Nothing important,” he says, brushing her off. “Listen, back to what we were discussing before … or what you were ranting about before … I’m pleased you want to help. And you’ve misjudged me, because I have a special assignment for you. It’s unusual and will be incredibly challenging. But I believe that you’re the only person for the job.”
Nazirah sits on the edge of her seat in breathless anticipation. “What is it?” she asks.
“For several months now,” he says, “the recon team and I have formed strategic alliances throughout the territories. Coupled with the information that Morgen and our various spies have provided, including the city layout of Mediah, we plan to seize the government in a coup within a few weeks. Our ultimate goal is to surround them simultaneously from all four directions. With the help of our allies, we’ll take over their main government skytowers, strongholds, and symbols of power. The rest will hopefully fall after that.”
Nazirah is stunned. “This is really happening?”
“It is,” Nikolaus reassures her. “We plan on taking out the Medi leaders in one fell swoop, replacing their government with our own.”
“Which would be what, exactly?”
Nikolaus shrugs. “A democracy maybe,” he says, “like they had in the Old Country. Maybe even something socialist. We haven’t really thought about it much.”
“You haven’t thought about it much?” she repeats.
“We’ll need a government where there’s equality of opportunity for all races, including intermix, where resources are distributed according to need, where people aren’t segregated, are allowed to live where they want and marry who they want. But the exact details are still up in the air.”
“Clearly.”
“Nazirah,” he sighs, “we have to figure out how to win the war first. The rest comes later.”
Nazirah scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Do you really think it’ll be that easy? That’s your grand plan? Throw the entire country into chaos and let the cards fall where they may?”
“You’re simplifying it.”
“I’m not!” she cries. “You expect to defeat the Medis like that?” Nazirah snaps her fingers. “They’re the Medis, Niko! Not a band of Eridian school bullies! And even if we do somehow miraculously win, you can’t just flick a switch in people’s minds! Nobody is going to suddenly accept intermix into the fold!”
“You think I don’t know that?” he shouts. “But it’s worth a shot! Every revolution, every change in history starts somewhere! Why not with us? Nazirah, we’ve been lucky, if you can believe it. Most intermix don’t see adulthood, poverty is so rampant. You said you wanted to do something worthwhile, that you needed to do something worthwhile. What’s more worthwhile than this?”
“But –”
“I’m not done!” he snaps. “The Medis try to appear strong, Nazirah, because they are weak. It is our fear that keeps them in power, not much else. They are the minority. They spend all their money indulging in luxuries. Their troops are a very real issue, but they are not insurmountable. And we will never win with an attitude like yours.”
“And what happens to them?” she asks. “What do you plan on doing with an entire race of people?”
Niko hesitates. “That, I cannot say. Glumindo, Badoomi, and I disagree about what their fate should be. Like most rebels, the other Commanders believe the surviving Medis should be enslaved, shown exactly how we’ve suffered. But I am of a different opinion. I believe that the majority of Medis are innocent, blissfully ignorant about territory and intermix life. For centuries, they’ve been fed propaganda. They’ve grown up on it, grown fat on it. Why would they believe anything else?”
“Are you honestly justifying their actions?”
“I’m not justifying anything! But I try to understand their perspective. To me, punishing every Medi would mean going against the ideal the rebellion is founded on … that everyone is inherently equal. How could I knowingly commit an entire race to a lifetime of servitude, because of the actions of a few? That’s a death sentence I don’t want on my shoulders. I can only hope the others will see reason.”
“So what exactly do you want me to do?”
“If we are to do this, Nazirah,” Niko says, “I mean really do this … we need more support. We have a solid foundation, but it’s not enough. We need human resources and stronger alliances. A few well-meaning rebels will not win this war for us.”
“Just spit it out,” she says.
“We need you.”
Nazirah is baffled. “Me?” she asks. “What can I possibly do?”
“More than you probably know,” he responds. “I was wrong to send you to the Deathlands, thinking no one would recognize you. Everyone in the entire country, from Mediah to the most outlying territory, knows who you are. Everyone knows your face, your story, what happened to our parents.”
“But only because that’s what the Medis wanted!”
“Exactly,” he says. “The Medis used you as propaganda. You became the symbol for what can happen to every citizen if they step out of line. We are hoping to turn that propaganda around. We want you to become the face of the rebellion, the face of intermix. Be the voice for people who are so unable to speak for themselves. Show them what happens if they do not join us.”
“So you want me to pose for an advertisement or something?” she asks. “Shoot a video?”
“It’s a bit more invested than that,” he says. “For a few weeks, we want you to go on a campaign of sorts through the four territories. Just show your face to the people a little, tell your story, and make a few speeches. Try to gather as much intermix and territory support as possible.”
“But I’m crap at public speaking!” she argues.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “The people living in the territories, especially intermix, are in a constant state of starvation and poverty. They want to revolt against the government, Nazirah. They just need a push. You need to become that catalyst.”
Nazirah scoffs. “Oh, is that all?”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he says. “I’ve spent several weeks arranging your safe transfer with our most trusted allies around the country. And Aldrik will be with you the entire time, trying to forge new alliances along the way.”