17

"So, you're brainwashing small children, now," is how he started the conversation.

"Brainwashing?" I questioned, acidly.

"I hear you told that girl that she could only trust Martians," said Angilo. "Specifically, ones in that uniform."

I flattened my palm against the seat, beside me. "I only hope she remembers it."

Angilo hissed a sigh, between his teeth. "It's risky for you to have this job," he said. "Please don't abuse it."

"Abuse it?"

"Can you imagine how you would feel," said Angilo, "if you were trying to adopt an Earth child, and it was an Earth officer who made the decision for you?"

I looked up, to him. "Did I win or lose the war in this scenario?"

"Don't be a smartass."

"Well, then," I said, "I imagine I'd feel a little better about having an Earth officer control only one aspect of my life."

He bit back whatever he was planning to say.

There was silence, for a while.

"Hasn't this war done enough damage?" he asked, finally, as we pulled up in front of the apartment.

There were a dozen things I could have said to him. I didn't have to, though; he stayed in the car, and I slammed the door behind me.

This evening, I saw Maurina d'Jorian on the news. Technically, she has no real political power, anymore - but I saw her speak to that crowd. She asked for peace; they listened. She asked for calm; they listened. She still has that kind of power over people.

And she's still alive. That's something, I suppose.