A robot arrived with fat pills and water, and Rhea and the others downed them hungrily.
After about an hour, five more security robots arrived, cuffed Rhea and her companions, and then escorted them into the hall. The three of them bounded along quietly.
The robots led them to an empty conference room. After making them sit down at the long board table, the machines removed the cuffs and then assumed guard positions along the surrounding walls.
A prompt appeared on Rhea’s HUD.
Sharing request from Locality Jail 2A. Do you accept? (Y/N)
Rhea glanced at Will and Horatio, then shrugged and accepted.
The holograms of several official-looking men and women appeared around the conference room table. The men wore suits and ties, the women blazers and dress shirts.
“Well hello there, Dudes and Dudettes,” Will said.
One of the men gave him an offhand look, then returned his attention to Rhea.
“Who are you?” Rhea said.
“We are members of the ruling council of Centaar,” the man said. “My name is Peter Detalt. I’m the council head. To my immediate right and left are Brenda McPhars and John Moine, my closest advisors. We’ve come to discuss your terms.”
“My terms?” she asked, confused.
“Of release,” Peter replied. “You attempted larceny. Damaged property. Killed two sentient robots.”
“And why would the council of Centaar involve itself with the release of a local criminal?” Rhea pressed.
“You’re not just any criminal,” Peter said. “And your actions, not some petty crime. You activated a weapon that hasn’t seen use in thirty years.”
Rhea didn’t have anything to say to that.
“You are Ganymedean, are you not?” Peter pressed.
“Yes,” Rhea admitted. There was no point in denying it. Not anymore.
“As the last surviving Ganymedean, you represent your people,” Peter continued. “Making this an official matter.”
“What are you saying?” Rhea asked.
“We’re trying to decide whether your actions are protected by diplomatic immunity,” Peter replied.
Will rubbed his chin. “That’s interesting.” He glanced at her. “If you think about it, as the last Ganymedean, by default you’re president of the Ganymedean people.”
“But a president has to be elected,” Rhea said.
Will shrugged. “Then elect yourself.”
Suddenly understand, she glanced at Peter. “So, you say you’re trying to decide whether I’m protected by diplomatic immunity. But given who I am, what you really mean is: you’re trying to determine what price to exact in exchange for setting me free. What do you want then? Some kind of promise that I won’t try to reclaim Ganymede, or otherwise interfere with your sovereignty?”
“Essentially, yes,” Peter said. “We paid greatly, with many lives, to secure this moon after your people fell. We can’t have some hero from Earth coming here and attempting to undo what we’ve done.” He glanced at the other council members. “You will sign a contract, stating that you have no claim on this moon, and that you will never return. Sign this, and we will dismiss all charges against you.”
Rhea received another share request and accepted the digital document. She distributed it to Will and Horatio, and then quickly read it over on her HUD.
“I can’t sign this,” she said flatly. “The part about having no claim to the moon, I can live with… but never returning? You can’t ban someone from an entire colony.”
“We can, and we do,” Peter said. “Routinely.”
Rhea shook her head. “And what’s this about giving up my rights to any and all Ganymedean artifacts I find in the colony? I don’t think so. I want the Ban’Shar.”
Peter sat back and steepled his fingers. “You and your friends will be imprisoned indefinitely until you sign.”
“Just sign it,” Will hissed.
Rhea stared daggers at the man. “To me, it’s telling that Europa didn’t help us in our time of need thirty years ago. Instead you swooped in after we’d already weakened Earth’s space navy, and took the moon, along with all its water, for yourself.”
Peter shrugged. “We offered aid,” he said nonchalantly, almost with disdain. “Your leaders refused. I was there. Their intentions were noble: they were afraid of drawing us into the war.”
“So you say,” Rhea told him.
“I can show you the holographic recordings I made…” Peter said.
“Recordings which can be doctored,” Rhea said.
She ran her gaze across the other council members. They wanted her to sign a document stating she had no claim over the moon, which made her wonder… what if she really could claim something? Did she have that power, based solely on who she was? She wasn’t familiar with Europan law…
“What if I wanted to negotiate a claim over a portion of this moon’s water?” she said. “As part of the reparations owed my people…”
Peter smiled widely, and from the way his jaw clenched, Rhea thought he was doing his best not to laugh. The eyes of other council members similarly shone with amusement.
Finally, he seemed to get himself under control, and he said: “You don’t understand. We’re not here because you have power over us in any way, shape, or form. We’re here because we want to get rid of you. You’re a thorn in our side. A memory of the Ganymede that once was. But you have no negotiating power. If you won’t sign our contract and go away, we’ll imprison you and your friends. It’s as simple as that. We’ll never grant you a claim to any of our water. Nor will we give you any of the artifacts we recovered from the old Ganymede. This water, and these artifacts, might have belonged to your people long ago, but they are ours now. Ours. This is how the solar system works. Reparations are a concept for weak governments. We are strong. Besides, reparations only become an option when there are an actual people around to claim the grievances, not a lone person.”
“It’s not for me, but Earth,” Rhea pleaded. “The planet has maybe a year left. We need to set up a deal as soon as possible, or it will be too late. People will die. Billions.”
“We don’t recognize you as
