has happened here that somehow managed to exclude them all. And even though I’ve talked to Red like this before, a new thrill hums through me at the public display of it. Here, I am not the one incapable of speech. I can talk in this world where others cannot.
Beside me, Red opens his mouth. He addresses the Speaker in Karenese. At the same time, I can hear his words in my mind, can instinctively understand the meaning of them without understanding the language itself. My hands come up; I gesture the same phrase to Jeran, who translates it aloud to the Speaker.
Then, I do the same with Red. I look at him, then think a phrase in Maran. I enunciate it in our own tongue, speaking it slowly and carefully through our link. As I do, Red repeats the words aloud, his eyes never leaving mine as he goes.
This is the more impressive feat, hearing this brute of a Federation soldier utter aloud the language of this nation, with all the correct intonations. The Speaker straightens, face stricken with bewilderment, his eyes darting back and forth between us.
When Red finishes, Jeran clears his throat and translates my signs. “Their minds are linked, as if one,” he says. “If Red had fallen under the Federation’s direct control, this link would be what they would have used to command him, to trigger certain emotional states and actions from him, to use him as precisely as a puppeteer does a puppet. But here, as you can see, their link went awry. It has fallen instead into our hands.”
Silence. While the Speaker’s eyes stay on us, still disbelieving, Aramin narrows his eyes. Behind his dark curiosity, I see an expression I would’ve never expected him to direct my way. Respect. I’m so taken aback that I look away, unable to bear it.
When the Speaker finally replies, his voice is thick with distrust. “How do we know this power between them won’t be used against us?” he says. “A Karensan soldier and a Striker who comes from a nation now controlled by the Federation.”
“You’re saying they might still be working for the Federation, sir?” Jeran says.
“How do we know this soldier does not have a connection to the Federation?” the Speaker goes on. “That he will use this link he now has with one of our Strikers to feed the Federation information about us? How do we even know that this Basean is loyal to us, rather than some spy?”
He isn’t wrong. We don’t know, truthfully, if Red still has some kind of tie with the Federation’s Premier. All we are really banking on is the fact that I have a history serving as a Striker, and that I have sensed nothing traitorous in Red’s mind.
The Firstblade comes to my defense. “Talin has trained as a Striker since she was twelve,” he says. “Since then, she has been loyal, has never done anything to arouse suspicion. If she says that this bond is what it is, that this Skyhunter is on our side, I’m inclined to believe her.”
After the tense way Aramin and I had confronted each other in the arena over Red’s life, it’s strange to now hear him stand firmly by both of us. Nearby, Jeran smiles quietly to himself.
“Besides,” Adena adds, “it’s a dangerous game for the Federation to play, handing us one of their newer experiments like this. Would they let one of their own purposely lay waste to two entire battalions of their soldiers, with the risk of letting an open link like this fall into our hands?”
The Speaker has nothing to add to that, but the frown stays on his face.
“This is the first time we have an actual example of such a link,” Adena goes on, trying to take advantage of the silence. “It’s worth studying this in our labs.”
“You’re seeking to discover how the Federation creates such a bond,” the Firstblade says, “and then learn how to destroy that same bond. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.” Adena is so eager now that she’s leaning forward, hands gesturing along with her words. “It’s the Federation’s greatest strength, that ability to command their monsters. If we can sever it, we might have a chance to win this war and push them back. Maybe even to push them out of other nations already conquered.”
The Speaker sniffs dismissively. “This can’t be done,” he says.
Instead of seeing this as a possibility, he sounds hesitant, fearful. Even annoyed. I frown at the tone