They came on the twenty-third day.
Representatives from all seventeen star systems. Billions of consciousnesses compressed into a delegation of three hundred speakers. They arrived in consciousness-space with gratitude, with celebration, with demands Kaine hadn't anticipated.
"We want to meet our savior," the lead delegate said. She'd been a planetary governor before the Dead Zone, had spent three million years as an unconscious automaton, had just regained awareness three weeks ago. "We want to thank the one who freed us. We want to honor Kaine properly."
Kaine felt their presence like pressure. Not hostile—grateful. But overwhelming in its intensity. Three hundred consciousnesses focused on her with adoration, with worship, with expectations she couldn't possibly meet.
"I don't want honors," Kaine said through her mother, refusing direct contact. "I don't want thanks. I just want to be left alone."
