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and nods. I nod back. It’s good to have a face I know to focus on, should I need it.
    Vine approaches the lectern and clears his throat into the microphone. When he’s satisfied everyone’s listening, he begins. “Welcome,” he says. For such a thin man, his voice is surprisingly deep, and any ministers still standing or murmuring quickly shut up. “I stand before you today as your newly appointed pod minister. Yet this position comes at a price. Today we honor the memory of Cain Knavery and, as a mark of respect, offer a moment’s silence in the presence of his children. Thank you for coming. We are deeply sorry for your loss.” Niamh sits up straighter. I bite the insides of my cheeks. I’ve no interest in being eyeballed and even less in being pitied. Vine lowers his head. The ministers mirror him.
    And the silence is under way: time to think about my father. How many nights he came home steaming drunk, needing to be placated to stop him from smashing up the kitchen. Or the times he had to be carried to bed. Or the day he chased me up the stairs with a belt for daring to contradict him. A tear trickles down Niamh’s cheek. What does she remember that I don’t?
    “Thank you, ministers,” Vine says. “And now to today’s agenda. Item one is pod security.”
    “Is that it?” Niamh hisses. “Our dead father gets one minute?”
    I shrug, and Vine is continuing. “We must restore order. Our authority must not be challenged again.” He bangs his fist against the lectern, and the chamber booms with the noise of it. The ministers applaud. “We have reports of RATS escaping via the trash chutes during the riots, and of new terrorist cells in The Outlands. We must not allow the grass to grow under our feet.” He simpers. This is a joke, and the handful of ministers who get it titter. “We will deploy the army to finish the job.”
    The chamber goes silent, and I freeze. I can’t go out there and kill innocent people. I won’t.
    Jude jumps up. “May I address the chamber?” he asks. Vine nods and steps away from the lectern as Jude approaches it. “The army was severely damaged during the last campaign. We lost too many soldiers, and depleted our fuel supply for the zips. I can’t vote for an immediate deployment of troops.” The ministers shift in their seats.
    “So we let them get away with it?” someone calls out.
    “We let the RATS escape?” another voice adds.
    “We need to find another way,” Jude says, and seems to stare at me. “We could send scouts on a reconnaissance mission. Young people the RATS would trust. I could have the junior Special Forces ready in days.”
    Niamh prickles up. “Does he mean you ?”
    Jude keeps his mouth straight and his hands clamped to the lectern. I should have known better than to expect any compassion from him—a man who sent his own son into The Outlands to die. How could he do that? I know by now that Quinn was the one who started the riot in the pod—but even I didn’t want him dead, not when all he did was tell the truth.
    The chamber is heavy with silence and all eyes rest on me. Some ministers look troubled, but most are beaming, delighted by the scheme. Jude’s expression is impenetrable.
    “Tell them you’ll do it, Ronan. For Daddy. Those bastards are responsible for this.” Niamh tugs on her black mourning robe. She looks like she might cry. I take her hand and squeeze it.
    But I won’t advocate for this mission. Besides, I hardly think that what I say matters. They’ll send us whether I agree to it or not. Niamh pulls her hand out of mine and does start to cry.
    “And in the meantime, you’ll recruit and train a new army?” someone asks. “If this is a reconnaissance mission, we have to be ready to attack once they’re found.”
    “Of course,” Jude says. “I’ll begin recruiting today.” Is he smiling? I want to tear onto the stage and throttle him.
    “Thank you, General,” Vine says, and moves on to item two on the