Page 2

“Yes, that call you overheard was with a new friend of mine. He’s only a little older than you and I’m training him.

Two years ago he was in a terrible accident and had to get cyber implants to live.

As a result, he’s been rejected by his family and has been living on the streets.

An associate of mine found him, recommended him to me and I’ve been training him for about a year now. ”

He waited, the words sitting in the air between us before settling into my mind.

“I don’t fit in because of my implants either,” I said.

“That’s true.”

The unflinching honesty was a relief. I was so tired of the false assurances that my implants wouldn’t matter, that I could still go to the Academy or have any semblance of a normal life.

I’d really never wanted ‘normal’, just options.

Now I didn’t even have that. So, Uncle Randall admitting what I already knew with such simplicity made me trust him.

He wasn’t going to pet and pamper me, he wouldn’t lie to me.

Like my stepfather, he would be honest with me, no matter how much it hurt.

“What do your teams do?”

“They serve the GUP by serving me.”

“So they don’t work for the government, just you?”

“Some of them do, some don’t. I need trained people that I can trust at every level. And sometimes those people aren’t exactly doing legal things.”

I frowned at him as something occurred to me a bit late.

“If this is a secret, why are you telling me about it now?”

He leaned forward again, arms on his desk, hands folded and a sly grin spread across his handsome face.

“You’re a smart girl, why don’t you tell me?”

I swallowed the nerves that tried to creep up my spine and quieted my mind like my stepfather had taught me to when I was afraid.

I went over what I’d heard on the call, the fact that he must’ve known I was there yet didn’t cut off the call.

Instead, he took it to its conclusion. He didn’t reprimand me once for listening; on the contrary, there’d been a hint of pride in his voice.

The truth coalesced in my mind and I sat up taller to make up for the way I was trembling inside.

“Because you’re going to train me to be one of your people. To work for you.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” I said with a firm voice.

And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized what had been missing from my life, what I had needed so much that I’d been half alive before seeing it.

I needed purpose, something to get me out of bed in the morning, to drive me, exhaust me. A dream I could focus on chasing that would distract me from the pain of what I’d lost a year ago.

“It’s not a game,” he warned, his voice hard. “It’s hard work, the hardest work. You’ll hate me more often than not. And I won’t make it easy on you just because you’re my niece.”

“Good.”

He snorted and shook his head.

“Good god, you’re…you’re so much like her.”

I was stunned to silence. He’d never said a word about my mother since I arrived. There were no pictures of her around, no evidence that he was related to her other than their facial features. Grief choked me and I looked down at my hands.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Are you sure?” His voice had become gentle, soft in so much as his gravelly tone could be. “This is dangerous work. It will cost you everything. No relationships, no friends, just the job. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

I thought of my stepfather, Gav, and Kier, of how my little brother thought I was dead, how Gav had to give me up for my own safety, as well as Kier’s.

Chances were, I’d never see them again. I had no friends on Atavar, and no one other than a few staff here would look me in the eye.

There wasn’t a school that would take me, so tutors had been brought in.

I’d never have normal, not with the implants.

So what was the point of hoping I might someday have a nice home and kids when nothing was sure in my life anymore?

Wouldn’t having a purpose be better than hoping someday someone might give me scraps of affection and a job?

“Does your work make a difference?” I asked. “Does it help people?”

He seemed to know what I wasn’t saying: Could I help prevent things like what happened to me?

Uncle Randall nodded.

“Yes, we do help people, even though we don’t get the credit.”

“It’s worth it then?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s worth it.”

“Alright,” I said with a determined nod, “then I’m in. Teach me.”

There was one last moment where Uncle Randall smiled at me, and it was the kind of look a proud uncle would give his niece, full of love and affection. And then it was gone, replaced with the hard look I would come to know very well over the next six years.

“Good. Go to bed, sleep, you start at five am tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, looking at something on his desk as I got up to leave.

“Oh, and your name has been changed,” he announced, handing me a digital book with my new name and species designation.

“Zephyr Vaughn,” I said, the name unfamiliar on my tongue.

I understood the necessity of it, but losing the name my mother had given me hit me harder than I’d expected.

“It’s a good name, memorable without being too unusual,” he said, then handed me a tablet with a language program on the front.

“Translation chips can be hacked or disabled, so I don’t allow my team to rely on them.

Learn Talosian first, I expect you to be conversationally fluent in six weeks.

After tomorrow, I will only speak Talosian to you in the afternoons.

After that, we’ll move on to Trade Speak, or Galactic Standard Sign Language some intellectuals call it.

And take this, so I can communicate with you.

Keep it with you at all times, and have it by your bed when you sleep. ”

He handed me a locket pin with a poppy flower on the outside. It was round and smaller than my palm. When I opened it, there was a com speaker, no screen.

“Good night, Zephyr,” he said, voice dismissive.

“Good night, Uncle.”

“No, I’m not your uncle anymore,” his face hardened. “I’m your CO, you’ll call me sir or commander, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, you’re dismissed.”

I wondered if I’d miss being treated like his niece, if I’d come to hate this change and wish for family instead of a commanding officer. But at this moment, I couldn’t imagine it.

Once I returned to my room, I still couldn’t sleep. But instead of fear keeping me awake, it was the unfamiliar flutter of excitement.