hope Toron proves us wrong. I don’t like anything that I can’t understand, and I don’t understand this at all.”
Victor stayed with Edimar as she went looking for her father. He had suggested that she speak with him alone, but Edimar had insisted that Victor come along. “He won’t be as angry with me if someone else is there,” she had said.
Victor wasn’t eager to see Toron so soon after Janda’s departure. How would Toron react? Did he blame Victor for what had happened? Did he believe that Victor should have seen where the relationship was headed and taken greater care to end it? Did he harbor ill will? Victor would rather not find out, especially not today, with the sting of Janda’s departure still fresh in Toron’s mind. But what could Victor do? He couldn’t hide from Toron. Sooner or later their paths would cross; it was a small ship. Nor did he want to hide, really. There was a part of him that wanted to apologize, a part that wanted to assure Toron that nothing improper had happened. Victor hadn’t known anything was wrong. It had been an innocent mistake. That wouldn’t change the outcome of it all, that wouldn’t diminish the pain. But maybe it would bring him and Toron a little peace.
Toron was in the cargo bay, making repairs to the mining gear Victor had won in the trade with the Italians. It was no secret that Toron had always wanted to work alongside the miners, but his proficiency and training with the Eye had kept him assigned to the crow’s nest instead. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice Victor and Edimar launch from the hatch and land near him.
“Hello, Father,” said Edimar.
Toron looked tired and defeated. When he saw Edimar, his expression turned to one of surprise. “Who’s watching the Eye?” he said.
“It’s on auto,” said Edimar.
“You should never put it on auto unless it’s an absolute emergency, Mar.” Toron glanced at Victor, noticing him for the first time. His brow furrowed. “What is this, Mar?”
“The Eye detected something, Father, out beyond the ecliptic in deep space.”
Toron gestured to Victor. “What does he have to do with it?”
“I showed it to him,” said Edimar.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to make sure I was interpreting the data correctly before I showed an adult.”
“He’s not a spotter,” said Toron. “He can’t read the data.”
Actually I can, thought Victor. But he said nothing.
“Nor is he your teacher, Mar,” said Toron. “I am. If you have a question about the Eye, you call me and nobody else. Victor hasn’t been trained with the Eye. Getting his opinion is a waste of time.”
Edimar raised her voice slightly, surprising Victor. “Did you even hear what I said, Father? The Eye detected something.”
“I heard you perfectly,” said Toron. “And if you raise your voice at me again, young lady, you will not like the consequences. Any apprentice on this ship would lose his commission with that attitude, and I will not be any more patient with you simply because you’re my daughter.”
“It’s a spacecraft,” said Edimar. “At near-lightspeed.”
That gave Toron pause. He studied their faces and could see that they meant it. He motioned with his hand. “Give me the goggles.”
Edimar passed them to him, and Toron slid them over his eyes. After a minute, he started asking Edimar questions, most of which Victor didn’t understand: What algorithms had Edimar considered? What measurements had the Eye taken? What processing sequences had she used? What coded commands had she entered? After that, Toron’s questions began to sound more like a rebuke. “Did you try such and such?” “Did you think to do this or that?” At first Edimar answered yes. She had tried everything. But as Toron continued peppering her with possible actions she could have taken, Edimar’s confidence began to wane. No, she hadn’t tried that. No, she hadn’t thought to do that. No, she hadn’t run that scenario. By the end of it, Edimar looked near tears.
Toron removed the goggles. “Go back to the Eye, Edimar, and when I get there, we’ll look at this a little more thoroughly. If it proves to be something, I’ll go show Concepcion.”
Edimar looked desperately to Victor, asking for help.
“Actually,” said Victor, “we’ve already gone to Concepcion.”
“Before you came to me?” asked Toron.
“We thought she needed to see it immediately,” said Edimar.
“We?” said Toron. “You mean you and Vico? This doesn’t concern him, Mar. He replaces lightbulbs and fixes toilets. What the Eye finds is my specialty, not his, and from the way you’ve responded to all this, I would add, not yours either. I don’t see how this is a difficult concept for you to grasp, Edimar. I’m the spotter. Me. I will school you in how to watch the sky. I will help you decipher the data. And I will decide if and when anything is brought to the captain’s attention.”
Edimar’s cheeks flushed.
“Go to the Eye and wait for me,” said Toron. “Do not ask for help along the way. Do not get the opinion of a passerby. You and I will address this alone.”
“It’s not her fault we went to Concepcion,” said Victor. “It’s mine. I’m the one who suggested it.”
“And who gave you that authority?” asked Toron.
“Anyone who sees a potential threat to the ship has an obligation to report it,” said Victor, reciting policy.
“You know all about rules, don’t you, Vico?” said Toron.
He meant dogging. This had started as a conversation about an object in space, but it had suddenly become, for Toron at least, about Janda. Toron blamed Victor. Or he hated Victor so intensely for it that it consumed his thoughts, even now, when something as strange and potentially threatening as an alien starship was brought to his attention.
“It’s not Vico’s fault, Father,” said Edimar. “I asked him to help me.”
Toron kept his eyes on Victor. “Go to the Eye, Edimar.”
“But-”
“Go to the Eye!” It was nearly a shout, and Edimar recoiled, fearing perhaps that a hand or fist would follow. She launched off the floor toward the hatch. Toron stared at Victor until he heard the hatch door close. They were alone.
“I want to be very clear about something, Vico. I want you to listen to what I’m saying because I am only going to say this once. It’s something I should have said to you a long time ago. You stay away from my daughters. Do you understand me? If Edimar asks for your help, you ignore her. If she begs for your opinion, you walk away. If she makes eye contact with you from across the room, you pretend she doesn’t exist. She is a ghost to you. Invisible. Am I making myself clear? Because it seems to me that you don’t know the boundaries of what’s appropriate and what isn’t.”
It was a ridiculous accusation. The idea that Victor would do anything inappropriate with Janda was infuriating. But to insinuate that his behavior toward Edimar could be anything less than honorable was an egregious insult. It was the vilest and most cruel thing Toron could say, especially considering how pained and guilty he knew Victor must be because of Janda.
But of course Toron knew the accusation was baseless. He knew Victor was only helping, that Victor’s intentions were purely supportive and protective of the family. That wasn’t his reason for lashing out. He was angry because his eldest daughter was gone and his second daughter had sought counsel with the very person who had lost him the first.
Victor kept his voice calm. “Alejandra leaving has nothing to do with this, Toron.”
The shove to the chest happened fast, and since Victor wasn’t rooted to the floor with greaves like Toron, the force of it pushed Victor back twenty feet. His back slammed into one of the big air tanks, and the metallic clang of the impact reverberated through the cargo bay. It didn’t hurt terribly, but it shocked Victor and immediately got his blood up. He reoriented himself, switched on his greaves, and let his feet lock to the floor. When he lifted his head, he could see that Toron was just as surprised as Victor was. He hadn’t meant the shove to be so hard, and he certainly hadn’t intended for Victor to fly back as he had. But then Toron’s expression darkened and he pointed a finger.
“Never speak the name of my daughter again.”
