I wish he’d just sell the damn Orb deposits and get this cursed chapter of our life over with.
As I take my seat at the table, I try to keep my voice light and even.
I spread a napkin across my lap and innocently ask: “Those were Aurelians, weren’t they, father?” I pick up my fork. “What did they want?”
My father picks at a piece of meat, then sets it down, forgetting to even put it in his mouth.
“Don’t concern yourself with them. They just wanted to buy some property from me. I told them no.”
He doesn’t lie to me – not exactly – but the lie by omission still stings. If my father trusted me, he’d tell me the truth – that our secret is out. He’d have told me the true scope of the Orb-Material he’d found deposits of. I knew it was a big score – but I’d never even imagined it was worth tens of billions of credits.
I stab some meat with my fork and raise it to my mouth – pausing to ask:
“Were they working for the Aurelian Empire? Or were they independent?”
My father pauses a moment, and I’m suddenly not sure if he’ll answer me. Eventually, he murmurs:
“The Empire.”
He states it curtly, in a tone that shuts down further questioning.
I know my father doesn’t want me to worry. He wants to protect me from the truth, just like the stone walls around our estate protect me from the world. I want to push him, but I also don’t want him to get suspicious or withdrawn. The only way I could know specific details is if I was at the meeting – and I don’t want to reveal that I’d disobeyed his instructions and snuck out of my chambers.
Instead, I state: “I can’t wait to get off this planet.”
My father picks up the same piece of meat – the one that he seemingly forgot to eat just moments earlier. It still doesn’t reach his mouth. My father holds the meat in the air, and stares at me…
Except he’s staring past me, with a far-off look in his eyes.
“Soon,” my father muses. “Soon, my dear. Soon, we’ll be living a different life.” He sighs, and finally places the chunk of meat between his teeth. “Soon, we won’t need an army of Sentinels for protection,” he promises, chewing his food.
Soon.
Always soon.
That’s the story of my life. Soon, things will be different. Soon, I’ll be able to meet friends my age more than once a month, surrounded by guards. Soon, I’ll be safe.
Soon, I’ll be free.
I’m sick and tired of ‘soon.’
There’s a light knock at the door to the dining room. It snaps us both from our thoughts.
“Enter,” my father says, his empty fork held in front of him.
Gerard throws open the door and strides in. He’s burly and strong, and I feel safer with him around than I do with ten Sentinels.
“The premises is secured,” he declares.
“Perfect,” my father gestures to one of the empty chairs. “Join us for dinner?”
Gerard shakes his head. “No. I’ll stay outside tonight, sir. This is the first time we’ve had visitors since you first staked your claim. I want to make sure everything stays safe.”
“Very good,” my father nods. “I'll send out sandwiches later.”
“Appreciated,” Gerard says, bowing his head. A moment later, he’s gone – leaving like a shadow.
I should feel better, knowing Gerard is patrolling the estate. Instead, though, it has the opposite effect. I’d rest easier if he retired to his room, as per his evening routine. If Gerard went to bed, it would show he wasn’t worried about anything.
If he’s going to patrol, it’s because he thinks the Aurelians pose a threat.
My chair is suddenly uncomfortable. Every night, I listen to the army of Sentinels clunking around the premises. The firm, solid thud of their metal feet is a constant reminder of their presence. Most families can only afford one or two of the robots. My father has an army of them.
And yet, with all of that? Gerard still isn’t satisfied we’ll be safe tonight.
The food is suddenly dry in my mouth. I’ve barely touched the rest of my plate, but I push it all away.
“I have some readings to do tonight.”
“Yes,” my father nods, paying no attention. “Yes, of course.”
He doesn’t hear my words. He doesn’t even say: “You need to eat,” like he normally would. He’s lost in thought, presumably mulling over the deal he just turned down.
My father won’t sell. It’s my instinct that tells me that. He’s stressed and anxious – but he’s determined. Like a pack mule, once my father starts on a journey, he never stops. He just keeps plodding forward no matter what, until he finally gets in his way.
As frustrating as it can be, that’s what I’ve always respected most about him. I hope I get that trait from him. I don’t want to give up on my dreams, either – even if they conflict with his.
I excuse myself from the table, and walk back up the stairs to my bedroom. It makes me remember the last time I’d climbed these stairs – that heart-pounding rush upstairs when the leader of the Aurelians had caught me staring at him.
Flushed and trembling, I enter my bedroom and change into my light sleeping dress.
As I look in the mirror, a strange sadness creeps over me.
I don’t want to give up on my dreams.
But what are my dreams? What do I really want from life?
I don’t know.
But I know you can’t find it cooped up behind walls.
4
Brennan
Otho runs his hand through his short mohawk, pacing the room. I can feel through his aura that his scar is aching.
“If we do this,” my battle-brother warns, “there’s no going back.”
His voice is dark as he strides the length of the penthouse
