Page 50 of Hide or Die

Right. Apparently the gloves were off now. I could play that game, too.

“I find it interesting that you are the one delivering this ultimatum, and not your pan-American counterpart. I would have thought UFNA treaties were more in his jurisdiction than yours.”

Nikolayev regarded me with steely, reptilian eyes. “In matters of policy, my colleague and I speak with one voice.”

“Except for the saber-rattling?” I suggested. A strange sense of detachment washed over me, my fear retreating to a distant point, somewhere out of my reach. “He’s a liability, you know.Youunderstand how to play the game of public opinion. He doesn’t. He can only appeal to the fanatics, but you need to keep more than the fanatical base on your side. You need moderates.”

Nikolayev raised an eyebrow. “My dear ambassador, I could not agree more with your assessment. However, it has no relevance to the discussion at hand.”

I tilted my head. “You’re wrong. It does. You can try to dismantle our Parliamentary coalition. But in return, we can bring our influence to bear in an effort to support Sloane over you—putting the weaker leader in a preeminent position, which will ultimately undermine the Committee in the long term.”

The corners of Nikolayev’s lips twitched upward, though his face remained cold. “You could do so, yes. And then we would see which of us was ultimately more influential on the world stage. I don’t believe you would enjoy the results of that particular experiment.”

I focused on not letting my body language falter beneath the force of his overbearing presence. Inside, though, a chill suffused me... because I knew he was right. One nation alone could not bring down the Committee. That was its power. It was a hydra, with its many tentacles twisted and embedded throughout the world.

“Alternately,” he continued, in the light tone of one who was about to offer an unsolicited act of kindness, “you could accept that you have lost this battle, and surrender gracefully—in exchange for which, I will ensure that all of the remaining lesser battles on relatively minor issues fall in your favor.”

I couldn’t help my sharp, indrawn breath of surprise. “What?”

“A concession,” he said, “from the winning side to the losing one. Your Prime Minister’s pet military program... the loosening of restrictions related to permanent omega sterilization, in favor of reversible methods using drugs... a reduction in sentencing guidelines for betas convicted of failure to declare throwback offspring. Surely such a tradeoff would be to your government’s benefit.”

I hesitated, stuck for words. He was proposing a straight trade—the single large issue in exchange for all of the lesser issues combined. Frustration swelled in my chest like hot lava—not least because in the end, accepting or declining his offer wasn’t my decision to make.

“I’ll need to discuss it with my superiors,” I said, trying not to let any of those feelings come through in my tone. “I should have an answer for you within the hour.”

He gave an urbane nod of acceptance, after which I turned and stiffly walked out of the private anteroom.

Kam looked a bit wild-eyed as I returned. “Well?” he demanded.

“I need a secure line to the Secretary of Foreign Affairs,” I said. “Apparently, Chairman Nikolayev wants to make a deal.”

An hour later, as the Undersecretary was in the process of drafting the finalized agreement for the approval of the Cabinet, I wasn’t sure if we’d won, or if we’d lost, or how I should be feeling about any of it. For his part, Chairman Sloane looked positively sour about the list of concessions. Nikolayev’s face might as well have been carved from stone.

Alphas and omegas would still be sent to the Committee for sham trial and summary execution, without any form of legal recourse. But, on the other hand, there would now be a path forward toward the abolition of the barbaric surgery perpetrated on every omega who aspired to a life outside the breeding pens.

We listened impassively to the details as the new treaty provisions were read aloud, including the proposed changes to the sterilization laws. I was worried about Kam. Of course, I wasalwaysworried about Kam these days. His eyes held that same blankness they often had lately—but we couldn’t talk here.

And afterward, hewouldn’ttalk.

The summit wound down. My superiors rained professional accolades down on my head for my supposed brilliance in negotiating so many concessions from the Committee at once. The Cabinet approved the new treaty a couple of weeks later, and it was duly signed by the Prime Minister with much pomp and circumstance.

The night after the signing ceremony, Kam showed up drunk on my doorstep with two dildos, a bottle of lube, a vial of contraband alpha sex pheromones, and an aura of almost manic desperation crackling around him.

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