Climbing the stairs from the lab is exhausting, five stories down, one to go.

I’m breathing in ragged gasps. Because it’s hot? The air is stale? Or am I just out of shape?

I like the first two better.

It doesn’t help that the stairs are designed for a Zmaj, that’s the real problem. The shortest of the aliens is close to seven feet tall so the damn stairs are huge. How rude, why didn’t they plan for humans to crash and need to survive in their ruined city?

Chuckling at my own dark humor, I finish the final flight. Seriously though, with each step I have to stretch as far as I can. Great for a workout I guess.

Standing on the final landing, I lean over, rest my hands on my thighs, and wait for my heart rate to slow and my breath to even out.

When it does, I straighten a fly away hair, wipe the sweat from my brow, and open the door.

It’s quiet, of course. The hardest thing to get used to after we crashed was the quiet.

On the ship there was a background hum that I never noticed. Machines whirring, engines thrusting, people breathing, snoring, living. The metal walls had a vibration. Strange, I never once paid attention to that until it was gone. When I first walked into a building in this city was when the absence of noise became clear. The floors were quiet and still.

It took me hours to put my finger on what was missing. When I finally did, it was like a light bulb switching on.

Little things. It’s the little things we take for granted that I, for one, miss the most.

The air is still as I walk down the long hallway, passing several closed doors as I go. Rosalind’s quarters are at the end of the hall. She wanted to be able to look out over the city and chose her room for that purpose.

Reaching her door, I knock then wait.

I know she’s up. I’m not sure that she sleeps, ever. I’ve had to get her at all hours of the day and night and she’s always the same. Perfect. Every hair in exacting place, her eyes always bright, alert, ready for anything.

She’s the Lady-General and there’s a reason she held that position on the ship and still does even now among the survivors.

Rosalind exudes confidence and control and inspires it in others. I only hope to one day be half the woman she is.

“Enter,” Rosalind’s voice comes through the door.

Walking in, I make my way straight to the living area where I know she’ll be waiting. The space is sparse and utilitarian, despite being her personal living area. Her status as Lady-General gives her the right to private quarters. A desk is the only prominent feature with three chairs in front of it, all of them the Zmaj design that accommodates their tails but are a bit too big for a human to sit in comfortably.

She’s standing in the middle of the open space, long dark hair just past her shoulders. There’s a regality to the way she holds herself. Her white outfit gleams, reflecting the sunlight coming in from the window she stares through. I know the secret of why it’s always clean, but it does nothing to lessen the impression. She actually wears a space suit, designed just for her, that self-repairs so no matter how dirty she gets, it never shows. A feat of engineering created at her command. On the ship it served both as armor and as protection against a loss of air.

Rosalind has had many long talks with me about morale and how to keep it up. Cleanliness and industriousness top her list. As she would say, luckily the second can be used to achieve the first, creating a double pronged attack on low morale.

“Good Morning, Lady-General,” I say.

She doesn’t turn. “Rosalind,” she corrects, her voice soft, low. “You may call me Rosalind when we’re alone.”

“Yes, Lad- Rosalind,” I stop myself.

No matter how many times she tells me, I still default to her title.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” she says without turning away from the window.

“Ma’am?”

“Our city,” she says.

There’s a heaviness to her voice that I’ve not heard before. Goosebumps raise on my arms and the hair on back of my neck stands on end.

Moving next to her I look out over the city. She sees something I don’t. All I find is decay, broken windows, and crumbling walls. Destruction of both time and the war that nearly ended the Zmaj race.

“Yes Ma’am,” I agree, not because I understand but because I don’t know what else to say.

A smile plays at the corners of her lips. She glances at me then returns to staring out across the city.

“Imagine,” she says. “Think of how it can be, not just what it is. That building there,” she points to a tall building just across the way from us. “Replace the broken windows. Tear down the top floor where the walls are crumbling. Put a garden on the open roof. Plants blooming, people, our people, working. Creating.” She points lower. “Down there, the fountain has flowing water and people are moving about their daily lives. No concerns, no worries about where their next meal will come from or will the dome hold. Will the pirates return. That is what we are working for. It’s important, never lose sight of the goal, Sarah.”

Listening to her, I see what she sees, just like she’s creating the images in my mind. It’s beautiful, perfect, and so much more than how we live today. “Yes, Ma’am,” I agree, chills running through my limbs.

This is why she’s Rosalind. It’s what sets her apart from, well everyone.

“Enough,” she says, turning away from the window and walking over to her desk.

I follow, moving to stand across from her. “We have a problem,” I say without further preamble. Rosalind doesn’t like dancing around the bush.

“What is it?” she asks, resting a hand on the desk.

Suddenly her hand twitches. I can’t keep my eyes from the spasm. She looks at her hand then at me, her eyes widening, not much but enough I catch it. Quickly, she moves the hand to her side then takes her seat.

“I said what is it Sarah?” she repeats, cutting off the words I was going to say.

Staring at her hand, my mouth moves but the words won’t come out. I’m locked between what I was going to say and what she wants me to say, leaving me unable to speak. Trying to push past the mental block between my mind and my mouth, I look at Rosalind. Her sharp eyes pierce into mine, making it clear my inquiries are not welcome.

How can I not inquire? Something is wrong. That tremor, it’s a weakness that Rosalind would never reveal.

“Uh,” I say, struggling.

“Sarah,” Rosalind says, her voice soft but firm. “What is the problem?”

Your hand, I want to scream. The block in my mind clears. Deep inside a faint thought occurs, but it can’t be. That would be too ridiculous to be true. I’m not an egomaniac and such an idea would be beyond egotistical. If there is something wrong though… could Rosalind be grooming me?

Me? Of all the survivors, me?

Blinking rapidly, I push aside all such ridiculous thoughts. “Water,” I say at last.

“Yes?” Rosalind prods.

“If we find a way to increase the water supply, we can handle a majority of the problems currently facing the city,” I say, confidence returning.

I’ve thought long and hard about a solution to the problems I spend my days observing. Rosalind doesn’t like it when someone comes to her with a problem and doesn’t also propose a solution. Another thing I learned early on under her tutelage.

“Explain,” she says.

My eyes dart to her left hand. The offending one that betrayed the only sign of weakness she’s ever shown. A tremor. Rosalind is only in her thirties. What would happen if she wasn’t here? No, I don’t even want to consider it. Containing Gershom without the Lady-General might as well be impossible.

“The biggest problems we’re facing right now are food and basic, daily needs,” I say. “Those two things are at the heart of a majority of complaints.”

“You mean besides human females mating with Zmaj males,” Rosalind says dryly, a tight smile on her face.

“Barring that, yes,” I agree.

Rosalind chuckles. “Relax Sarah, I’m kidding… mostly.”

“Of course,” I say, but there’s no kidding in my mind on that subject. It is the biggest complaint if you take into account certain factions of the survivors.

“You were saying?” she asks.

“Right, well, yeah, so water. If we increase the flow of water we can ideally do something to help with the bath houses. The smell is becoming unbearable. Also, I visited with Calista and Jolie. Their progress is… less than we hoped.”

“Damn,” Rosalind exhales, leaning back in her chair.

“Yeah, they need water too,” I say. “So fixing it would solve two major issues.”

“Okay, so, solutions?”

“The fountain,” I say immediately.

“Do what?” she asks.

“The fountain,” I say, grinning. “It had to have water at one point right? I’ve been thinking about this. I’ve done a lot of poking around the city in my scavenging and one thing is clear. Water is precious. Water on Tajss is like the old movies and shows talk about gold being on Earth. Valuable, a display of wealth. That fountain had to have been a massive display of wealth and power when it was built.”

“Makes sense,” Rosalind agrees, but she’s waiting for the rest.

“So, it has to have a system to feed it, underneath it.”

“Okay, so say it does, how does that solve our problem?”

“I don’t know, yet,” I say. “But when I figure out a way into that system I’m hoping it will be a fix.”

“Better than anything else we have, proceed,” she says. “Consult with Amara, she might have some insight.”

It’s like I’m ten feet tall as I inhale a deep, satisfied breath. Rosalind doesn’t give praise often but her putting trust in my idea and giving it the go ahead fills me with a great pride. My smile is so wide my jaws hurt.

“Okay,” I say, walking towards the door.

“Sarah,” Rosalind calls.

“Yeah?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Stay, please.”

“Of course.”

Rosalind motions to the chairs in front of her desk and I take one. She leans back in hers, closes her eyes and sighs.

“What about Gershom?” she asks, not opening them.

All the elation I just had crashes to the ground. Anger wars with hopelessness as I work to put into words what I observed today and what I fear.

Fear. The real problem is that. I fear something but I don’t know what. It’s what makes everything about him so hard. You don’t know what he’s doing and when something does happen, no matter how much I know it was him, no one can prove it. Like the smashing of the airlock and keeping out the Tribe was so far removed from him directly that he was never blamed.

Always innocent, Gershom is. We have no rules against speaking your mind, unfortunately.

Rosalind is staring at me, waiting, and I still don’t know what to say.

“He’s up to something,” I say, filling the void. She doesn’t say anything to that, waiting to let me figure it out. “I can’t put my finger on it but yeah, he’s got a plan.”

“What do you think it might be?”

“I don’t know, a coup maybe?” I laugh as I say it, but the laugh falls heavy between us.

Rosalind doesn’t even flit a smile in return. I said it flippantly but the moment I did, the idea carried weight. Too much weight for something so preposterous. How would he even do that? Why would he? What would he gain?

“What did you see?” she asks. “Leave out nothing.”

Biting my lower lip, I think about what I’ve observed then launch into it. Rosalind listens, questioning certain points seemingly at random. When I get up to what I saw in the dining hall today, or more accurately didn’t see, she closes her eyes and nods.

“Okay,” she says, after a long pause.

“Okay?” I ask, confused by her response.

Rosalind opens her eyes and smiles but I know her well enough to catch signs of strain. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, the corners of her mouth tremble, wanting to turn down. “Yes,” she says.

Something moves behind her eyes and it hits me that she’s deciding how much to tell me. I sit and wait, knowing she’ll tell me what she thinks is best and not a word more. Moments tick by in silence. My nerves are on fire, tingling with the desire to know, realizing that I may not be told all.

“He’ll move soon,” she says, breaking the silence between us.

“Really?” I exclaim, shock letting the words slide out before I think it through.

Rosalind nods, slow and deliberate. “Yes,” she says. “He’s planning something big. There’s a pattern to his actions and I can say with certainty that he’s building to something. It will happen soon. We need to be as ready as we can.”

“But what? What can he possibly do?”

“What can’t he do?” she asks.

My shoulders slump and it’s hard to breathe. Here we are, struggling to survive, and even now this asshole is trying to grab and consolidate power. Power over what? As lazy as he is, if he were in charge we’d all starve to death in a month. The Zmaj are our best, and soon to be only, source of food but Gershom’s rhetoric would keep them from helping us. Unless he plans on turning them into some kind of slaves.

Good luck with that. I’ve seen the Zmaj fight and I know that none of Gershom’s followers would stand a chance.

Unless they came in force, or...

“Do they…” I can’t bring myself to say the words. Rosalind watches, waiting for me to work it out for myself. “Surely they don’t.”

My mind races. It can’t be, but didn’t I read a report that some of the weapons cache that was brought back from the pirates is missing? He wouldn’t. He can’t possibly have balls that big.

“Exactly,” Rosalind says, as if she’s reading my mind. “Now, my dear Sarah, you are truly on the inside.”

“Shit,” I exhale. “What do we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? But we can’t! We have to… arrest him, or take the weapons back. Something. We have to do something!”

“Arrest him with what force? On what charges? He’s done nothing that is a provable crime.”

“It doesn’t matter, he has to be stopped! For the greater good!”

Rosalind leans forward, placing both her hands on the desk and rising to her feet.

“More harm has been done throughout human history in the name of ‘the greater good’. If I teach you nothing else, learn this one fact. We must always act in the best interest of basic human rights. Always, no matter what the apparent cost may be. The moment we bend the rules is the moment we lose everything.”

“But our very survival is at stake,” I argue.

“It always is,” she says. “Always. Maybe here, in this situation, that is clearer because the very basics of life are in short supply. It doesn’t change the underlying truths. If we bend our own moral and ethical code, then in the long run we will lose.”

I want to argue with her. Scream, get in her face and yell until she sees reason. I’m shaking I’m so angry. Jumping to my feet I pace back and forth in front of her desk. My respect for her is too great to allow me to do anything else.

Then it hits me. The reason I’m so angry.

She’s right.

We’re at a crossroads and Rosalind knows it. The future she sees, that she’s guiding us towards, is a brighter one that hinges on the core belief of Human Rights. But in her vision, it’s not just Human Rights. In her mind it’s Life Rights. The basic, fundamental rights of all life, Human or Zmaj, or any other alien race we might encounter.

Turning a slow circle, I see the paths before me. In the one I would have chosen, we become no better than Gershom himself. Bending the rules to fit our own version of the greater good. Who decides the greater good? Me? A council? A handful of strangers in a dark, hidden room?

No. Rosalind is right and I will follow her to the end.

“Damn it,” I mutter.

“I know,” Rosalind says, taking her seat again. “You see it, this is why I’ve chosen you.”

Resuming my seat, the heaviness settling over me again as the anger fades away. How can I ever be as good as she is?

“Why did you?” I blurt out.

She arches a perfect brow.

“Why did you, choose me?” I repeat.

Rosalind smiles. “That question has been a long time coming,” she says.

I shrug in response. I’ve thought it many times but never allowed myself to voice it.

“Because, Sarah, you were sweet and naive.”

My stomach tightens up like she just punched me in the gut. Naive? She chose me because I was naive? My cheeks burn hot and tears swell. “What?” I gasp, my throat closing tight.

“Yes, I said naive,” she continues. “Don’t take it wrong though. Naive in that you see the best in people. All people. You don’t pre-judge anyone. It’s a rare trait, a quality I quite admire. Anyone who takes over this job has to have that. I deal with too many different people. I can’t have a preconceived notion about them and neither can you. We must give them the benefit of the doubt. More than that, we must grant them the ability to be more than they appear. Let them rise above. I have always found that if you give those you lead the room to be great, they rarely let you down.”

“Oh,” I gasp as my mouth falls open, flutters dancing in my stomach.

Rosalind smiles. “It’s your best trait.”

Swallowing hard, my heart pounding in my chest, I nod, unable to speak. I’m struggling, caught between tears and laughter. Barely able to contain the strong emotions that grip me until I might explode.

Rosalind waits patiently for me to regain my composure.

“Thank you,” I say when I finally get control of myself.

“Of course. Now Sarah, I am going to need something from you. If you don’t feel up to this task, please tell me. I won’t force you.”

Everything else disappears as I tilt my head to one side in curiosity. She’s never prefaced any request like that before, what could it be? “Okay,” I agree, anxious to find out what it is.

“I need you to infiltrate his camp.”

“Today?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“Yes, we need information. I need you to get in there and do what you do. Observe, gather information, and get back safely to me with it.”

“Oh,” I say, my mind racing. “Okay.”

“You’re sure?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, my mind made up already.

Someone pounds on the door to her apartment.

“Enter,” Rosalind says, like she expects a visitor.

I notice her left hand disappears under the desk.

Heavy footsteps come down the hall along with a dragging, swish sound and I know immediately it’s a Zmaj. No human could replicate the sound of the enormous dragon-men.

“Rosalind,” Ladon greets.

Glancing over my shoulder, he and Sverre stand waiting.

My heart makes a flutter in my chest and a cold sweat forms on the palms of my hands. The Zmaj have this effect on me every time. They’re so tall, strong, muscled in every place imaginable. Their scales catch the light as they walk, casting tiny rainbows. It’s breathtaking, throw in the fact that they’re always shirtless, and what’s a girl to do?

Okay, I admit it, I’m hooked.

All the good it does. There are no unmated Zmaj in the city. There could have been, if not for Gershom and his dickery. The Tribe is full of unmated Zmaj. Who knows, one of them might have been perfect for me. Now though, they’re all out at the epis caves, yet another source of tension.

Somehow, it seems like we should be better than this. It’s all so petty. Arguing over territory, race, and most importantly who a person’s heart chooses. That’s what it really comes down to isn’t it? A woman’s right to choose, not just what she does with her body but with her heart. That’s what Gershom and his camp seem to hate the most.

And I get to infiltrate them. Yay me.

“Ladon, Sverre,” Rosalind says, motioning to the two empty chairs in front of her desk. “I thought you were both leading hunts?”

“We were,” Ladon hisses, the edges of his scales are an angry shade of red, reflecting his mood.

Sverre’s scales are more subdued, tans and yellows. Sverre usually has better control over his temper than Ladon.

“You’ve returned sooner than I expected,” Rosalind observes, while also not calling attention to Ladon’s anger.

“There is no game!” Ladon explodes, throwing his arms into the air, wings spreading as his tail swishes back and forth in sharp, slashing motions.

Rosalind doesn’t react to his outburst. Her ability to remain calm in the face of such a threat is impressive, she barely blinks with a several hundred pound, overly muscled barbarian raging three feet away. Instead, she turns her attention to Sverre, arching an eyebrow.

“It is not something I ever considered,” Sverre says, his tone soft and even.

“What is?” Rosalind probes.

“We’ve out hunted the ability of the herds to keep up.”

“Not us, them!” Ladon hisses, his hands clenched like he’s strangling someone that I can’t see.

Cold chills run down my back. Ladon’s anger is palpable, a pulsing force pounding against my skin like hot waves.

“Ladon,” Sverre warns.

Ladon turns, hissing as he does. His wings spread part way out, his tail slashes hard to the left, knocking the chair behind him flying across the room. Sverre leaps to his feet, his own hands curling into fists. The two Zmaj stand a foot apart, glaring at each other. I stumble out of my chair and step backwards, unable and unwilling to be so close to them.

“Enough!” Rosalind yells, slamming her hands down on her desk.

The two Zmaj break their glare to look at her. She meets their gaze, her lips pursed, face serious. Something in her face or manner breaks through, their shoulders slump, wings close, and their tails quit slashing.

“Rosalind, I apologize,” Sverre says, going and getting the chair that Ladon knocked aside and setting it back in place.

Ladon continues his staring contest with Rosalind until Sverre puts a hand on his shoulder. His head turns in slow motion, staring at the hand then rising to meet Sverre’s gaze. He nods and resumes the seat, offering no words of apology.

“How bad is it?” Rosalind asks, focusing on Sverre.

“Bad,” he says. “The herds aren’t sufficient to maintain everyone in the city. Now, with the Tribe having taken up residence nearby as well, we’ve passed the point of straining our resources.”

Rosalind nods, steepling her fingers under her chin.

“I said this was a mistake when they arrived,” Ladon grouses. “It’s my city.”

Rosalind barely darts her eyes to Ladon, otherwise ignoring his outburst. “Sarah, get on the two projects you have,” she says.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I respond, not moving.

I want to know what we’re going to do about the hunting situation. Several heart beats pass without a word being said, then Rosalind looks at me again, arching an eyebrow. Damn it, she means now.

“Sorry, yes Ma’am,” I say, racing for the door.

“Now, for the hunting-” Rosalind begins as the shutting door cuts off the sound of her voice.

First, I have to go to Gershom’s camp.

This is gonna suck.