Chapter Seventeen
Desert Child
"He doesn't get to do that! I traded my life to save his, so the least he can do is pick up."
"What are you going to do?" Wyatt asked. "Fly to Earth and make him talk to you?"
"Don't need to," I said my goodbyes and activated the Sentinel-level override. Within moments, my father's face appeared. He had aged a decade since I'd seen him last. Lines around his eyes both darkened and deepened, and white-grey hair framed his bloodshot eyes.
"What the hell, Thomas! You can't force a call like this!"
"Apparently, I can. Wanted to check on you."
"Why, making sure your alien pet still works? Don't your alien cameras tell you? Well, it does, and I'm fine, so go on."
The words were sharp, defensive, and obvious lies. I looked at him for what felt like the first time. "You're not fine," I whispered.
"And whose fault is that? What I did was an accident, but this thing inside me? You let it happen. Your buddy Brandon? He's married to one of them. You had power! Could have found a way!"
"To do what exactly? Allow you to feel bad for a couple of days before you continue drinking yourself to death or worse, kill more people? I... we saved you."
He jabbed a finger against his stomach. "You call this saving?"
"There's an opportunity to do something.
Look around! Chase is looking into scholarships, including those on another planet, and got his eye fixed.
Joel and Hannah are trying for a kid. Wyatt?
Hell, he'll do something, I'm sure. Aliens arrived, and the first thing you did was reach for the bottle.
Besides, they did it. Not me. You think it would be easy to ask them to—"
"Easy? You want to talk about that? What about having a gay son in our town?"
The words slammed into me harder than a punch to the gut.
"Why do you think those bar fights started?"
My voice trembled. "I'm sure it wasn't easy, but that's no excuse. You think I didn't know? I saw it. Nearly every single day and thought, I owed you. Figured, I had to repay you for... being a father."
His hand slid down to his stomach. From the wince, he must have had an attack recently.
My shoulders rose. "Because I never said no, Zephyron's mates are gone. Because of us. My brothers never quite had the hold on you, but I did. If I had said 'No' instead of letting you slug down another drink, they'd be alive. I killed them just as surely as you did."
"Stop it," he screamed as he stood. The camera view drew back. In the background sat a glass of murky, washed-out tan liquid, unlike the darker amber-brown from his usual whiskey. He must have experimented, seeing how much he could dilute it in water and not trigger the worm.
"You can't stop. Even now, can you?"
"Some of us weren't given the world, Thomas.
We did everything right, and she still got taken away from me.
" I don't know if he realized what he had said.
"Now you've got an alien king and a palace.
Must be nice, huh? Ol' Tommy's got it all figured out and he's telling the rest of us how it's done. "
"I don't know what to do, but I'm trying. I know one thing. My kid, if I have one... they won't owe me for being decent."
He said nothing, just breathed faster with every breath.
"I love you, Dad," I said, my voice soft but firm. "But I can't keep repaying a debt for you by letting you drink. We each killed people with our actions or inactions. Now we both have to live with it."
I ended the call before he could respond. My hands trembled as I pulled away from the console.
The faint sound of a shuffled footstep called my attention, and I spun. Parker leaned against the far-off stone wall with his repaired camera-bot hovering beside him. Its lens shimmered faintly, under sunlight from the ceiling openings.
"How long have you been standing there?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.
"Long enough." His tone was neutral, but something was calculating in his eyes. "Heavy conversation, huh?"
"You didn't record that, did you?"
The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smile. "No."
"No technicalities. I'm talking about the camera, too."
"It's not recorded in any way," he said with his voice calm. Too calm.
"You heard everything, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah. Not going to pretend I didn't."
I stared as his expression stayed steady. The drone floated silently beside him, its lens swiveling once, then still. Watching. Not recording, he said, but something about the way it followed my every move made my stomach turn.
Parker excused himself since it was obvious I didn't want to talk. I couldn't shake the sense that something wasn't right. The way he held himself, the way his camera hovered just a bit too close...
Father and son destroying a family? It'd make one hell of a documentary hook.
No. He wouldn't do that.
***
The days passed in a well, desert haze, and ground along as the Festival of the Gold Dust Woman loomed. Now, it was here.
From my window, I saw the Sandari's preparations in full swing.
Vibrant colors of amber, deep red, and gold cloaked the rocky outcrops.
Streamers spun in the dry wind and shimmered under the twin moons.
Faint chants rose and fell like waves, accompanied by whistling chimes.
My heart ached. It wasn't the kind of music I'd grown up with or complex, but it moved something in me all the same.
I miss Earth.
I had repaired my guitar, but one swarm attack and laser cannon slaughter was worse than any agent back home saying, 'No thanks.' I had my surfboard and that wouldn't find any use here.
My mechanical friends stood next to me, nearly rebuilt with hairline cracks along their shiny, white shells. Volardi tech could have buffed it out, but they kept it, as if they wanted to show off.
I adjusted the light fabric cloak draped over my shoulders, and my implant buzzed. Ugh... Westmore. I hesitated before accepting, but did. His holographic face appeared, tense as always. "Thomas, I need an update." His gaze dipped down to my stomach.
Three words drew out. "I don't know. On Sudo, they wait until the signs are obvious. Even I can't check."
"How do you feel inside?"
"The same."
He leaned closer into view, and his voice lowered. "Tydalos has been asking questions about your situation."
"And?"
His jaw worked as he searched for the right words.
"Let's just say he's not staying in his lane.
He's been inquiring into Volardi-Human policies on unbonded Omegas and making public comments about Earth's environmental recovery efforts.
He's stirring something up." He paused. "You are mated, right? "
I'd agreed to live on Sudo to build a future with him. There wasn't a ceremony or vows, but I'd offered him my entire life and body. His genetic material was in me, and I might have his... our kid in me. If that didn't count, what did?
"Yes, I'm mated."
"Well, that's good. If Tydalos sees an opening, he'll take it. Your mate's kingdom can't afford to lose face after what happened with the Zerlites, and neither can you."
A short female aide approached him, so the call ended. I stood in silence. Zephyron's kingdom. His kingdom. Did he see me as part of it? Lately, he'd been distant, as if I could feel his unspoken thoughts every time we spoke, ate, or just breathed in the same warm air.
One thing could explain the coldness. Does he know?
I couldn't walk up to the big guy and ask, 'Hey, did Parker happen to tell you about the argument with my dad?
' That discussion would come, but not today.
The Volardi owned a third of the planet, but the day belonged to the Sandari.
We needed to, if not impress them, then at least not drive them further away.
I straightened my cloak, stepped into the sunlight, and prepared for the Festival of the Gold Dust Woman.
***
The festival stretched out before us. Towering sandstone spires reached skyward, with jagged edges glowing softly under the faded twin moons.
Intricate carvings adorned every surface, depicting past festivals, ancient Sandari triumphs, and legends.
Golden dust swirled lazily in the air and clung to my cloak and hair. Rotating my wrist made my arms shimmer.
Hell yeah! I'm sparkling!
The Sandari were everywhere, including the bigger female sex. All had their foxlike faces partially obscured by flowing robes accented with flashes of gold and teal. Their wide ears twitched constantly, and most watched Zephyron and me as we moved through the marketplace.
Stalls overflowed with desert wares: polished stones sparkled like gems, skinny plants encased in glass, and colorful fabrics so fine they rippled like smoke.
Chimes hung down, and a tall vendor ran her claw along one.
A haunting whistle filled the air. "To repel Zerlites," she explained in her language.
It was a sales pitch or a dig at what I had done to them with the asteroid.
I whistled the notes back, and her ears straightened before I caught the smallest, toothy smile.
The whole event was mesmerizing, alien, and beautiful. An experience to savor, yet Zephyron's aura overpowered it all. Distant? Not quite. Simmering. He snapped a curt command to a tall Sandari knife-dancer guard escorting us. Her ears flattened back and stayed down.
"Hey! Everything okay?"
His jaw tightened, and he kept his gaze fixed forward. For a moment, I thought he might ignore me. "You were complicit."
"What?"
"Do not hide truth in the sand. You gave your father permission to drink intoxicants. My mates and their future are gone because of your weakness."
My throat tightened.
"You understood the dangers and failed to stop him."
My nails bit into my palms. Okay, so that day is today. "Yes," I admitted. "I never stopped him."
"Why did you not?"
"You don't get homophobia. The Volardi Empire? It's practically gay, but it's not Earth. It wasn't easy being—"