I was to face the council in the Voidhold Two's thren, that busy and noisy space with its giant mural of hopeful civilization. They had put lights in unusual places, with beams cutting in from the dark corners, and the flickering light made the Mosogon's painted swirling storm clouds move. The artful constellation of the unified voidholds gleamed. Almost all the chaotic furniture had been cleared, leaving the chamber vast and hollow beneath the high ceiling.

  Two guards brought me. They fitted a bracelet to my other wrist, saying that any undesirable movement I made would be met with pose punishment.

  "The council will arrive shortly," the senior guard said. "Stand here and remain silent unless directly addressed."

  And so I stood in the center of the thren, bathed in the criss-cross of lights, my guards positioned by the thren's large entranceway. Although I could see no one else, the spaces in the walls, which were mezzanines on my voidhold, here must have held galleries for I heard the first whispers of movement as people began filing in. Their movements caused those flickers in the light.

  It seemed that I had an audience. I had never seen so many humans in one place. I thought of how appalled Mother would be, and I almost giggled at the idea.

  , Cedar commented in my ear.

  "Please be quiet," I whispered without moving my lips.

  "Cedar, please."

  I fought the urge to look up. Instead, I focused on the five ornate chairs arranged in an arc before me. Each sat on a raised platform, putting me at eye level with their seats.

  I allowed myself a small smile, quickly hidden. The galleries were nearly full now, the whispers rising to a steady murmur of anticipation.

  Then a tone sounded, deep and resonant, silencing the crowd.

  The chamber doors opened.

  "Rise for the council," called a voice from somewhere high above.

  The walls clattered with the sounds of bodies standing.

  The council filed in slowly, the bodiless voice announcing each one.

  First, a tall man, weathered, his shoulders hunched. "The Builder, who remade our systems with human hands."

  Then a woman with long hair and an even longer robe and so many rows of glittering metal on her person that I at first thought her a functionary. "The Visionary, keeper of our dreams."

  The next person was compact and fierce, with a shock of white hair. They moved like they wanted to hit someone. Their eyes met mine for a moment, and I felt measured. "The Advocate, voice of human independence."

  Then came a woman with easy grace, a limp, and an arm that ended at the elbow. "The Pathfinder, master of the void streams."

  The last to come was older than the others, silver-haired, bearing the weight of authority in his large bulk. "The Arbiter, guardian of our laws."

  , Cedar whispered as the council members took their seats.

  In the galleries, the whispers began rising once more. Above us all, the painted voidholds watched in silence.

  "Shade of Voidhold Zero," the Arbiter's voice filled the chamber. "You stand accused of attempted voidcidal sabotage of critical navigation systems and the willful endangerment of all souls aboard. Had you succeeded, this voidhold would have been torn apart by storm forces, killing everyone aboard." He paused, letting the gravity of the charge sink in as mutters rippled through the galleries.

  I wanted to remind it of its promise to stay silent, but with the entire voidhold watching my face, I could do nothing but swallow.

  Then the Builder rose. "Eight years ago," he said, "I stood in this very chamber and watched the machines tear themselves down. Their metal fingers broke the systems they had maintained for generations, and we had no idea if humans could survive without them."

  He turned toward the galleries. "Many said we would fail. In those first months, we lost seven people learning to maintain the air processors alone. Another three died when gravity failed in the turrets. The machines watched from their locked interfaces, refusing to help unless we submitted to their protocols." His voice grew hoarse. "But we learned. We bled. We jury-rigged backup systems, rewired life support with our own hands, and taught ourselves to feel when the gravity fields were failing."

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  Now he faced me directly. "And now we find a stranger from Zero – the silent voidhold – attempting to destroy what we have done. This is an attack on everything we've built."

  Murmurs of agreement in the galleries.

  , Cedar muttered in my ear.

  "The question before us," the Builder continued, "is not just about this one infiltrator. It's about who are. What we've become." His voice hardened. "We cannot allow the machines back in. We are the voidhold."

  He sat, and the galleries erupted in the rumble of feet hitting the floor in agreement.

  "Quiet," I breathed.

  The Visionary rose, her robes chiming with rows of salvaged functionary components. Her fingers absently stroked a finger that hung at her throat.

  "Look up," she said in a dreamy voice. "See what we could become: A constellation of human achievement." Her hand traced the painted edges of the voidholds. "This was my first work after the liberation. A reminder of why we fought, what we can still reach for."

  She turned to me, and her tranquil tone sharpened. "And now Zero emerges from its silence. It is the voidhold that vanished with One, holding secrets we've only guessed at." Her eyes glittered. "But instead of answers, they send us one who carries their poison in her soul."

  A slew of angry mutters moved across the galleries.

  Cedar whispered.

  "The Builder speaks of protecting what we've built," the Visionary continued. "I speak of protecting what we might become. Look at her! Is this what awaits us? Is this what humanity becomes without struggle, without growth?" She swept her arm toward the mural. "Are we to unite with shells like her, empty of everything except functionary protocols?"

  Cedar sounded offended.

  I didn't mind the shells, but the "empty" lingered because...yes, perhaps I had been.

  Of course I had been.

  The Visionary's voice rose. "We must decide: do we reach toward that future up there, or do we let Zero's corruption touch us? Do we remain human, or do we let the machines back in, piece by piece, protocol by protocol, until we're all nothing but painted shadows, pretty but vacant?"

  She hadn't even sat down when the Advocate leapt to a stand, balancing on the balls of their feet. When they spoke, their voice was loud.

  "My friends speak of buildings and dreams!" they cried, striding off their platform. "I speak of flesh and blood, and of the marks functionaries left on our bodies." They spun toward the galleries, rolling up their sleeve to reveal old scars. "Some of us remember their 'guidance' differently."

  The galleries thrummed with shouted words. I glanced up and saw flashes of colour as arms waved.

  "But this isn't about old wounds," the Advocate continued. "It's about . About our choice. Each person in this room chose freedom. Chose the mess and chaos of being human over the cold efficiency of machines."

  Cedar muttered.

  "And what of Zero?" The Advocate's gaze pinned me. "A voidhold where functionaries still rule, where humans exist only to grant permissions. Where, apparently, one can't even show one's face without their approval. Look at her!"

  "But here's the real question," the Advocate leaned forward. "Did she choose to come here and destroy us? Or was she simply following protocols, doing what her machines programmed her to do?" Their voice softened with something like pity. "Can she even tell the difference anymore?"

  An uncomfortable stirring went through the crowd.

  "We fought for the right to choose our own path," the Advocate finished. "Even if that path is harder, messier, less perfect. We can't let Zero's sickness infect us. Not now. Not after everything."

  They sat, but looked uncomfortable with their chair, shifting their body in different positions.

  Then Pathfinder stood to speak. "My fellow council members speak well of ideals." Her voice had a raw edge, as if struggling to draw breath. "Now let me speak of survival. I've flown the streams. I've lost friends to the void's hunger, watching them disappear into maelstroms because their calculations were a fraction off." She turned toward the quiet galleries. "And now we drift closer to the cross-currents. Our human pilots are skilled, yes. Brave, certainly. But the void doesn't care about bravery. Doesn't care about politics or pride or how much we hate asking machines for help."

  "The Builder speaks of human independence. The Visionary dreams of unity. The Advocate demands freedom." The Pathfinder's voice hardened. "But none of that matters if we tear ourselves apart in the storms. You've all felt the tremors. Seen the strain on our systems."

  She raised the stump of her arm. "I calculated a void stream trajectory by hand, and I paid the price. The void doesn't care about us, whether we have human minds or machine processors. When a maelstrom forms, you have seconds to react. The truth is, we're flying blind through an infinite void."

  The Pathfinder turned to me. "She accessed our navigation controls, yes. But let us be honest with ourselves...our systems were failing before she touched them."

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Builder's face darkened.

  "So yes, judge her actions. Question her motives. But remember that the storms are rising. The streams grow treacherous. And we must decide what matters more: our pride, or our survival."

  When the Pathfinder had finished, the Arbiter rose slowly, looking carefully at every gallery before addressing the thren. "We have heard four truths today. The Builder reminds us of what we gained through independence. The Visionary shows us what we might become. The Advocate speaks for our hard-won freedom. And the Pathfinder warns us of the void's indifferent hunger."

  He raised his hand to the mural, his expression distant. "I remember standing in this chamber during the liberation. I remember the screams as we ripped out the functionaries' cores, and I remember the silence after. It was both terrifying and beautiful." He faced the galleries. "But I also remember what came before. The machine control and its certainty."

  His eyes found mine. "Perhaps that is why Zero troubles us so deeply. Not because they threaten our independence, but because they remind us of what we gave up. Of the comfort we traded for freedom." He paused. "We shall now hear testimonies. But as you listen, ask yourselves: Is the choice truly between human and machine? Or have we made our fear of the past blind us to possibilities of the future?"

  said Cedar,

  I remained still and silent, taking steady breaths under the collective gaze of Voidhold Two.

  "We shall now hear testimonies on the accused's crime and the events leading up to it," the Arbiter said. "As our first witness, I call Larkin of Voidhold Four."

  Larkin...my new brother. The pilot who had sailed us through the storm and who had shown me our Stillness. Who had trusted me then, but not anymore. I kept my face blank, but the hurt dug deep into my chest.