The Vela: The Complete Season 1. Yoon Ha Lee

She nodded at the screen. “Everyone who made this fluff, they’re Gandesian sons and daughters. They have people who love watching them, even if only for a few seconds. Ours is a beautiful world, full of beautiful people. And yes, it’s going to die, just like the rest. But for now, we have water. We have food. We have a greater distance from the enemy than the rest of you, and that means we will solve this.”

      “How?” Niko said. “How are you going to solve it?”

      Cynwrig shrugged. “That’s a job for scientists, not me. My job is to make sure there are Gandesians left to see whatever plans are made all the way through. To make sure our people and our culture survives this.” She looked sideways at Niko. “And that means we need to keep what we have.”

      “You have more than enough. You have a whole planet.”

      “Do you know what a planet is? It’s not as big as you think. When it’s used up, it’s used up. Have you seen our reports? Have you done the math?” She stretched her legs. “I’m going to assume you don’t have children, but pretend for a moment you do. Say that there’s a famine, and you have just enough left to feed your family. Now say another family knocks on your door, and they have children of their own. They say, ‘Please, please give us your food, or we will starve.’ Who do you feed? The strangers at your door or the family in your home?”

      “That’s not—”

      “And now say,” Cynwrig continued, “that you see those strangers approaching, and you know that people just like them stole your neighbors’ food. Raided their pantry.”

      “Bullshit,” Niko said. They didn’t care about playing diplomat anymore. They wanted to throw up the two bites of puff they’d eaten. They couldn’t stomach this one.

      Cynwrig laughed. “Is it?” she said indulgently, as if she were speaking to one of her grandkids.

      “It is,” Niko said. “You have no evidence that the outer citizens would cause you harm. None at all. They just need help. They’re desperate.”

      “Precisely. Do you know what desperate people are capable of? Have you ever seen desperation, Niko av Ekrem? Because I have. I have, and those were my own people. People who were of my own culture, who spoke my own language, who told the same stories. And none of that stopped them—stopped us—from butchering each other.” She sighed. “There has been peace on Gan-De for twelve years. It was hard won, and is hard kept. I will not see that work undone.”

      “They’re people,” Niko said. “People like the woman upstairs who saved your life, and is protecting you now. And they’re dying. They’re dying by the shipload on that doorstep you mentioned.”

      “Don’t talk about death as if you know what it means,” the general said. “And don’t talk about people as if we’re all the same.” She gestured at the screen. “You don’t even get the jokes. How can I imagine that you and I see the world anything alike?”

      Niko had had enough. They left the puff where it lay, and walked toward the door.

      “Why are you on this ship?” the general asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.

      Niko stopped. “What do you mean?”

      “I’m not a fool, child. If you were a diplomat, you’d be on a government-issued cruiser with a staff at your disposal, not an untraceable quick-shot with a sniper and no one else.” She smiled over her shoulder. “What are you two after on Hypatia?”

      Niko inhaled. “We are going,” they said, “to discuss humanitarian relief efforts.”

       The general laughed and returned to her movie.

      Niko nearly ran back to their room, palms sweating. “Fuck,” they whispered. They went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on their face. So much for a break.

       They looked at themself in the mirror, drops of water running down their cheeks. Where had that water come from? Bought in blocks from the outer planets? Ripped molecule by molecule from their hemorrhaging sun? Was there still enough water aboard the Vela, wherever it had gone? Was there food? Was there air? Niko returned to their makeshift workstation, diving in with a fury. If the people of the outer planets didn’t get a break, neither did they.

      • • •

       I used to sell batteries, both home-sized and industrial. Do you know much about batteries?

      

       I do, yes, but the people watching this might not.

      

       Okay, real simple: batteries discharge their energy faster in the cold than they do in warm temperatures. They’ll hold their charge longer, but that doesn’t matter too much once you start using it. So, you need to get warm, which means you’re cranking up the heater, which means you’re pulling more from your home’s batteries. But the batteries are kicking out juice faster, so if you’re not keeping a constant eye on them—which most people don’t; they’ve got better things to do—they’ll run dry. So you can’t run your heater for as long as you need to, which means you’re getting colder, which means you’re trying to crank up the heater, which means . . . you see?

      

       I do.

      

       Yeah, you know. I bet your batteries were performing like shit too.

      

       The heater in my lab stopped working. We had to evacuate.

      

       That’s the other part of it. The more you run a machine, the faster it’s going to break down. So it wasn’t just that the cold was getting worse. It’s that the cold borked the machines that were supposed to keep us warm. Honestly, that’s the most hilarious thing about this ship.

      

       What is?

      

       There’s so many people crammed in here. Folks are passing out because it’s way too fucking hot.

      • • •

      Shouting. That was the last thing Asala wanted to hear, but there it was, clear as day, a pair of voices skirmishing down the hall. With a weary sigh, Asala set down her handheld, put on her shoes, and followed the sound of the fight.

      She entered Niko’s quarters. Its primary occupant was on their feet, doing their best to hold their own against Cynwrig, who . . . well, had staged and won a bloody coup against a long-standing planetary government. Niko was screwed here.

      “I don’t care whose brat you are,” Cynwrig spat. “This is an act of aggression, and as soon as I am off this—”

      “I didn’t do what you’re saying!” Niko shot back, their voice trembling and angry. “I’m trying to fix it.”

      “Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure. Let’s take a look at your precious computers and we’ll see what—”

      “Okay,” Asala said. She stepped forward with her palms up. “Everybody needs to—”

      “This little shit,” Cynwrig said, “shut down the scramblers—”

      “They’re the problem!” Niko cried. “They’re what’s causing all the—”

      “—and tried to access my personal files.”

      Asala looked right at Niko. “Is that true?”

      “No.” The kid looked like they were at their wit’s end. “The scramblers are not