And yet, he could see no way to get to them and show them that they had been wrong in attacking other races. From Clear Waters, who was a lot more cooperative now, he’d learned that the Sowir had very small population, barely ninety million. A price for their longevity; their solution for aging had not been perfect. But their tools and agents numbered in the billions. One Sowir could command hundreds of thousands from afar; perhaps not with the same effectiveness as if he or she was close to them, and they were fewer in number, but when you threw a million expendable solders at the opposing force, it didn’t matter that they weren’t as organized.
The problem Adrian had was how to get close enough to the Sowir for them to sense him. Their maximum range was around two hundred meters for their more powerful telepaths. That range was increased exponentially if they used an amplifier, but those were designed specifically to send instructions to their tools; it was only one-way. Sending a prisoner to them wouldn’t work, either; Clear Waters had assured him that they wouldn’t believe her memories, not unless Adrian was there too. But the problem was getting to the Sowir. Early attempts in the war to send back prisoners with surrender offers had proven unsuccessful. Sending previously captured ships back had led to them being destroyed from afar, or by the prisoners destroying themselves, as they suspected a trap. The Empire had shown them that they were capable and willing to break their word, and also to use subterfuge. After all, the Sowir and the Empire had had a non-aggression agreement. That the Sowir would have broken it if they’d had the chance didn’t matter. The Empire had broken it first.
Landing on a Sowir-controlled planet was risky as well, as there were rarely any actual Sowir on the ground; they would rather stay on their ships and control their tools from a distance. The only worlds where there were actually Sowir on the ground was their homeworld—which was covered completely by water—and on Guxaxac, which they were having difficulties pacifying. There was no hope that Adrian could land there and reach their leaders without being seen, especially when the Sowir tools could see right through Empire’s stealth tech, which relied on visual stealth, and their tool-soldiers had no eyes. He would be killed long before he could enter the telepathic range of any Sowir that would actually allow him to speak with them. Not without sacrificing a lot of people.
The more he tried to find a way, the more frustrated he got, to the point that he’d started to question whether he even should. He managed to spend another half an hour looking at the endless data before he lost his temper and cleared all the holograms with a swipe of his hand. He turned around and exited the room.
The shape of Iris appeared in front of him and floated backwards as he walked through the room. He grabbed an overcoat from a chair nearby. Sora and Akash raised their heads from where they were sleeping, but then lowered them, uninterested.
“Adrian, where are you going?” Iris asked.
Adrian put the coat on over his suit and walked out of his home. He looked at the darkening sky and realized that it was close to nighttime. He turned left and started walking. “I’m going to see Seo-yun,” he said.
“Alright… May I ask why?” Iris tilted her head as she asked.
“I need to talk to her,” Adrian answered.
“Right… Want me to call and let her know you are coming?”
Adrian turned and walked onto an overpass. “Sure,” he said as he walked into a park that had been built on the overpass. Sound-canceling fields surrounded it and blocked out the noise of grav-cars that passed below. He walked by kids playing, with the progeny center caretakers or their parents watching over them. Many of the adults noticed and recognized him, but they obviously sensed that he wasn’t in the mood, so they stayed away. Now he was focused on only one thing.
It took him half an hour to walk to Seo-yun’s research center. Olympus City was a small city, with only around six million people living there, and most of it stretched underground. They had made a point of not disturbing Sanctuary’s nature more than they needed to.
Adrian stepped inside the research center and made his way towards Seo-yun’s office. The clerk at the doors tried to stop him, but he pushed through. Seo-yun was already standing when he entered; she raised her hand towards the clerk following him and waved him off.
Adrian started pacing across the room. Seo-yun watched him for a minute before she spoke.
“What is it, Adrian?” she asked.
He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “I won’t tell the Sowir about my telepathy,” he said.
He saw her face drop. “You can’t find a way to reach them?” she asked.
Adrian shook his head and started pacing again. “No, I mean I won’t. I haven’t found a way yet, but I am sure that eventually I could. It would probably involve a lot of risk to our people, but I could do it. No, I won’t do it.”
“Why? We can save innocent lives,” she said desperately.
Adrian turned on her and pointed directly at her. “That is why,” he said firmly. “You say innocent lives, but is that really true?” he asked her.
She looked at him, confused. “Of course it is true!”
“Really, Seo-yun? Think about that. You have studied the Sowir for a long time. Think!”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
Adrian sighed in frustration. “The Sowir have a small population. They have longevity. They are a lot more united than any race we have ever encountered; all of them have a voice in their governing system, because they think alike. They are not a hive mind, but they have much less individuality than we do,” he said pointedly. When she still looked confused, he continued. “Most of the Sowir alive now were also alive when they met the Consortium. It was them who decided to attack and slaughter billions. It was them who committed genocide. So tell me, Seo-yun, why should I put my life, and the lives of my people, at risk to reason with them? They are not innocent, Seo-yun, none of them are.”
Seo-yun struggled; he could see it in her face. She was a good person—it was what Adrian liked about her—but in this he knew that she was wrong.
“Seo-yun.” He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “I understand that you struggle with us deciding the fates of other races. I know that you were uncomfortable with the actions we took against the Furvor. But the truth is that we have the power, which is the only right that the universe respects. And the Sowir had abused their power. They are delusional; they are no better than fanatics from Earth. They are guilty, and I will not risk our people in order to save theirs. We have already lost enough people to them. Or did you forget what happened to the Voyager? They killed our people with no cause. How many do you think they’ve killed in their pointless quest?”
Seo-yun took a deep breath; he could see her coming to terms with his words.
“After we have destroyed all of their military, and after we have taken control of their homeworld, I will show them how wrong they were. But they need to suffer punishment for their actions,” Adrian added.
“I know,” Seo-yun said softly.
A few hours later, Seo-yun walked into her and Tomas’s chambers at the palace. Tomas was in their bed, reading. When she entered, he raised his head with a smile that turned into a frown when he saw her face.