Are his feelings actually hurt right now?
“I don’t know what a zombie is,” he says, frown deepening. “But I suppose that it is derogatory. Is that your true opinion of the rest of us?”
“No,” I breathe out immediately. “No, Pakka. I don’t… I don’t know what you’re capable of, I’ll admit that. I know you said to Kila that you’d fix him and he’d thank you for it. But I also want you to know that I realize that in your mind everything you’re doing to antagonize Kila is out of love for him. You think you know what’s right and what’s going to make him happy in the long term. You want to force that on him because you care for him.”
“So… you do realize I am right?” He draws his eyebrows together, hopeful.
“No! Just because you care about him and your intentions are good— That doesn’t mean you’re right. You don’t know what’s best for Kila. Only he can decide that. He doesn’t want the suppressor anymore. I can only imagine how happy he’ll be when that chip is out of his head for good,” I say.
“Yes,” he admits sadly.
“Then will you give up this craziness and just let him be free of this? I know he still wants to work on the project. He wants to make it for the other survivors, and for you guys.” I sigh and move in to touch Pakka’s shoulder. When I glance back at the gurney, Kila has turned his head to watch me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles at me.
Pakka shakes his head, but surprises me by saying, “Yes, yes… I believe this has been a doomed effort on my part since the beginning. I hope you realize that I have every respect for you. I admire you. But the death of our people is not the end of our laws, the end of our culture… At least, I had hoped it would not be.”
“When Kila told me the story of why the Kar’Kali began suppressing your natural hormone responses, he really emphasized the fact that it was an adaptation to the Azza invasion. Is that how you see it as well?”
“Certainly,” he agrees.
“Then maybe it’s time to adapt again. Have you ever considered that?”
He becomes pensive and turns to stare across the way to the gurney and the others gathered around Kila. Finally, he closes his eyes and says, “Perhaps, Ella. Perhaps.”
Mori beckons us over to them, and we stall our talk to join them. “He’s ready to go,” Mori tells us. “We’re going to wheel him down.
Kila is grinning, boyish and bright-eyed. It’s adorable, ridiculous combined with the skinny tubes protruding from his forehead via dot-sized orange stickers. “Give me a kiss, my perfect mate. As humans say— for good luck.”
We usually hide our affection from the other Kar’Kali, but I cannot help myself from diving into his lips. His arms twine around me, gently stroking over me. When we break apart, his eyes flicker over my face rapidly, as if memorizing each detail.
“Good luck,” I whisper. “Catch you on the flip side.”
His perplexed smile is the last sight I enjoy before Mori and Kiva wheel him out of the lab. Vala trails them, lifting his phone to his ear before slamming the door behind.
Pakka immediately turns back to me. “Now, our conversation…”
“What else is there to say? We’re in a bit of a stalemate,” I say, making my way back to my computer to check on some emails I need to respond to. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish some things up so everything’s done by the time Kila comes out of there.”
“A deal,” he blurts, following me to my desk. “I do not know what stale mate means but I can guess. And I’d like to propose a deal.”
I grasp one of my pens and start clicking it nervously. I have no idea what kind of a deal he could possibly have in mind, but I’m feeling confident that Kila and I hold all the cards in this equation. Pakka doesn’t want to lose Kila— that much is clear to me. I was so busy hating him for his close-mindedness and his hardheadedness that I forgot that he has emotions buried in there, just like Kila did. He’s in mourning. All of the Kar’Kali are. I know Pakka is burdened by their loss and I get the feeling that he thinks he needs to be the new leader of their whole race. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.
“Tell me what it is. If its within my power, I’d do anything to convince you to put the whole Deviant Exile thing behind us.”
“I do not know if you realize this, but you could very well hold the future of Kar’Kali in your womb—"
Wow, well, not the direction I was imagining this conversation would go… I blink at him, stunned.
“And I would beg you give us the opportunity to fertilize and freeze a number of your eggs with Kila’s seed,” he continues, gravely serious in tone. “We could conduct this each lunar cycle and store them for the event that the surviving Kar’Kali can begin a new colony. To think that we could begin anew with ten to twelve healthy young warriors in just a year’s time—”
“Hold the fuck up,” I say. My voice is like steel. I’ve never felt so angry.
Pakka watches my expression curiously. I can tell he doesn’t understand the meaning of my phrase. Furthermore, I can tell he doesn’t realize just how insane his suggestion is. He’s surprised though, surprised that I would forgo the polite, friendly tone with which I usually handle disagreements.
“You really think for one second that I would give you my eggs? My eggs? My… my… hypothetical precious fucking baby? Or should I say babies since you’re planning on extracting every possible offspring?”
“I see now that I have… not said the right thing,” he says slowly. “This is an insult to human women? Do you not rejoice over each retrieved egg? Was it not you that suggested we explore human female eggs as a resource for our prior study?”
“The only thing you’ll be retrieving,” I grit out, fingers tightening on my pen, “Is your head from your own ass, Pakka! No, I would never allow my offspring to be frozen until they’re useful and ready to be trained from birth for battle!”
He’s shaking his head at me. “Ah, this is because you don’t wish to have your children become warriors. Have you said this to Kila? Because warrior-hood is very important to all Kar’Kali.”
“You don’t get it. You don’t get what I’m trying to tell you about Kila and you don’t get what I’m saying about my eggs—babies— whatever!” I chuck my pen across the room and stand up angrily, palms down on the desktop. I take a deep breath and whip towards him. “Kila deserves to choose his own life path. And I’d like you to let him do that without all the guilt. He doesn’t deserve that guilt and you know it. As for my children? My children? You better fucking believe that they’ll have every choice in the world and be allowed to do whatever they want. They might be Kar’Kali, but they’ll be humans too. And human women don’t stand for it when their kids are jerked around like puppets… Like sacrificial lambs… Like fucking numbers on the battlefield!”
“Ella,” he starts. “I—”
“I’ve had enough. I need some fresh air,” I say, grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair.
“I see. I should have better calculated how this discussion would go,” he says.
“You might not want to think about your own feelings. And that’s your prerogative. But as long as you’re on this planet, you better start considering the feelings of others,” I sniff, trying to force the tears away until the moment when I’m alone.
I don’t wait to hear a response, hustling for the door before he can say something even more infuriating. The walls and floors blur. My vision becomes foggy with tears as I begin to run towards the stairwell. I shrug on my jacket as I go, thankful that I haven’t encountered any other workers. I pass the spot where Kila pinned me against the wall and kissed me so many times. I practically trip myself sprinting up the stairs. My chest is tightening. I begin to sob as I slam open the roof access door.