The artificial lighting was hard to get used to. Built as an underground facility, District 13 can't rely on the sun to illuminate its quarters. Massive numbers of light bulbs and fluorescent tubes hang from the ceilings and walls of the subterranean district and supply its people in their need for visibility. Their energy demand must be through the roof. Where are they getting that kind of power? I wondered.

A complex of this size and capacity will have its own generator, or power plant even, one of my ancestors from District 5 reasoned. However, that requires a specialised infrastructure and remarkable organisational skills.

If they can sustain an air force and nuclear bombs, I bet a power plant won't be too hard to manage, I argued. I looked around the conference room we had been led into. A multitude of flickering screens lined the walls, showing combat footage, the Capitol News channel, public announcements for 13, and interchanging maps of various districts.

"Mother, what do you think?" I signed to her in the secret battlefield language of the Cult. She had been observing the room from the moment we entered it.

"Intimidation, I assume," she responded in fluttering signs of her hands. "They want us to know they're well-informed and well-organised." Again 13's talent for organisation, I mused. Then I suppressed a chuckle. It's funny how they're trying to intimidate us, while we're trying to intimidate them.

After all, I hadn't brought Morris Sparks and Mom with me for their company. I was not here as High Priest of the Cult and Bene Gesserit, but as Finn Hartman, the Great Mother's chosen one, the districts' religious leader. Mother represented my position as High Priest and Morris my power as supreme commander of the United Army. Thus our delegation sent out a fair warning: Cross us and deal with religious fanatics, skilled spies, and obedient soldiers.

"Them moles are sure takin' their time," Morris muttered as he paced across the room, his hands in his pockets. We had arrived two hours ago and we'd spent at least one of them in this room by ourselves.

Clad in his official uniform as First Lieutenant, Morris was buttoned up in a navy blue vest with narrow, grey, metal rectangles attached on each shoulder to signify his rank. Instead of his regular cowboy hat, a black army barrette now covered his ginger ringlets, the sigil of District 10 clearly visible at the front.

"Patience, Morris," I urged him kindly. "District 13 is an industrious place. President Coin must've been held up somewhere. I'm sure she'll have a valid reason for her delay." Aside from agitating and observing us like scientists toying with lab rats. President Alma Coin is District 13's female version of President Snow, though I hope she's less sadistic.

"She better get here soon then. I know nicer ways to spend an hour in a room," he said, leaning back a bit in an angle that drew attention to his loins. The mischievous look in his green eyes gave away that he was teasing me again.

"Hmm, and which ways would that be?" I smiled alluringly as I eyed him top to toe with my golden gaze. My gold-in-gold eyes had an enticing effect on Morris I had noticed. Not just on Morris, to be honest.

"Oh, I know plenty. Tho', it always depends on who I'm spendin' that hour with. Just a companion, or a long-time acquaintance, or someone special," he smirked charmingly, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The light in the room hit his luminously green pupils just right to spark a mesmerising glint in his eyes.

"You don't like going into detail, do you?" I raised an eyebrow grinning.

"Now, Finn, that ain't the kind of topic to discuss with a lady in the room," he nodded his head towards my stoic mother, standing in front of one of the screens.

"Why did you bring him along?" she signed to me. "If Anthony were here, he would've made sure Coin met us on time."

I can't argue with that. A 6-feet giant with the muscle strength of a boa constrictor would scare anyone to punctuality. Not to mention his function as general of the United Army. Yet Embry cautioned me to keep an eye on Morris and advised me to take him with me, so who am I to question my Other Memory?

"Anthony will serve me better at the front line of District 7," I signed back, more to convince myself than her.

"The front line has hit a stalemate, hence our visit here. You brought Morris along for a different reason." Ah, nothing ever gets past you, does it? I thought, comforted by the knowledge that Mom's observational skills were still razor-sharp.

Or, Mom's teenage self offered, I just miss my gorilla in shining armour.

I shuddered. Don't remind me of your...her...Mom's 'secret' love affair with my former Hunger Games mentor.

Oh, why can't you just be happy for me? If your memory serves me right, I haven't had a boyfriend since you were born.

That I know of, I added. I still needed to reassure my mother though, so I signed:

"There's indeed a different reason, which I'll let you know in due time...but not now."

Just in time to stop Mom's heated response, President Alma Coin marched into the room followed by a soldier, either her lackey or her right hand. Alma Coin is a 50-year-old woman with grey hair that falls to her shoulders in an uninterrupted wave. Her pale grey eyes look dull and empty as if their owner doesn't know what happiness and love are.

"I apologise for the wait, but an urgent matter required my attention," President Coin said with no noticeable intonation, nor interest. She sat down at the steel table I was already seated at and the soldier handed her a brown binder before retreating to stand in front of a wall. Lackey, it is. Coin opened the binder and flipped a few pages, paying us no mind.

"I understand, Madame President. It's tough running a district, especially during war," I stressed the last part. She looked up from her pages and gazed at me with an even expression before letting her eyes wander to Morris and Mom, standing at different ends of the room.

"We are not at war, Mr. Hartman. Your rebellion is not our concern, which is why we must turn down your request for aerial support," she explained in that same emotionless and monotonous tone.

"Are ya kiddin' me?" Morris yelled. He charged the steel table from across the room, put his hands flat on the metallic surface and looked just about ready to jump on the tabletop to snag the binder from under Coin's nose. Before he could do anything stupid, I placed a hand on one of his arms.

"Lieutenant Sparks, calm down," I addressed him by his official title to remind him of his responsibilities and used just a hint of the Voice to ease his nerves. "We cannot blame the President for trying to keep her people out of a war they didn't start."

Morris' cynical expression showed what we were all thinking: No, District 13 would rather hide underground and wait this rebellion out. Yet Coin gladly hitched her refusal on my explanation:

"Exactly, this is not our war. This is between the Capitol and the twelve districts. We found out the hard way what dealing with the Capitol gets you a long time ago."

"Yes, self-government and democracy are such heavy burdens," Mother said in an even tone that could rival Coin's frigidness. It gave me the chills. Even Coin seemed to shudder at Mom's icy sneer.

"We won't deny the few benefits we were granted, but they were part of a deal. If either 13 or the Capitol threatened one another with nuclear weapons, the other would retaliate with swift and equal measures. Thus we cannot provoke the Capitol," the President of District 13 concluded as if that put an end to the discussion.

"And thus you remain a slave to the Capitol's tyranny," I retorted with a slight grin. Morris snickered smugly as he crossed his arms and Mother also seemed pleased with my reply, even though her expression and composure stayed neutral.

"Why should we help you?" Coin asked eventually, at last considering joining us in the rebellion.

"Because what we can do to the Capitol, we can do to you too," I replied calmly. "In a couple of years, hopefully sooner, when we've conquered all the districts and taken over the Capitol, I'll guarantee you we'll turn to 13 next and finish what the Capitol started 75 years ago. Especially when the districts are convinced you cowered beneath the earth in your tunnels like a bunch of opportunistic maggots."

"You feel confident about your cause."

"A certain degree of confidence is necessary during war."

"So is caution," she remarked. "Forgive me, but your threat sounds idle. After all, you've come here to beg..."

"The High Priest doesn't beg," Mom interrupted coolly. Coin regarded her, shifted in her seat and rephrased:

"You came and asked for our help. You wouldn't have if you could defeat the Capitol by yourselves."

"And you wouldn't have offered humanitarian aid to the freed districts if you lot didn't think our rebellion stood a chance," Morris countered, surprising all of us with his keen insight. Mother observed him with new eyes and concluded he was far more intelligent than he looked. Embry had come to that same conclusion the first time she saw him.

"We were hopeful," Coin admitted.

Morris smirked. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, ain't that what they say?"

Intertwining her fingers, she shielded her mouth with her hands as she considered 13's options. Pleased, I signed to Mother:

"I told you there was a reason for Morris' presence. Still think Anthony would have done better?"

"Fine. Morris served his purpose, but there's more to him than meets the eye," she signed back suspiciously.

I'm glad someone finally agrees, Embry chimed in my thoughts.