Page 4 of Summer

Tomorrow, I’ll finally take a step toward freedom.

2

GENELLE

“You’re going to be late.”

Aaoric jumps, his fingers tightening on his coat buttons. His yellow orange eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I see myself reflected there. We share the same gray face, fading to red along the ridges of our forehead. Our skin is red, lined with black veins that snake over visible forearms, but that’s where our similarities end. Aaoric’s is etched with the occasional gold, mine remains dark. His forehead is adorned with the short spikes most male aliens of our kind have, whereas my forehead has flat black lines.

And Aaoric’s gaze is uneasy while mine is flat.

Aaoric turns to look at me, his face set in a thin line. “I’d lost track of the time,” he says with a shrug. I give him a knowing look – as if he could lie to me. I know exactly where he’d been all morning, what will likely make us both late to join our parents on an impromptu trip.

To where? No idea.

For what? Nothing good, I suspect.

“Let’s just get on with it,” he grumbles and shoulders past me, heading to the launch pad. The launch pad is a blight on the back lawn of our estate. The well-maintained purple grass was a bragging point for our departed grandmama. She claimed to be the only estate on Hothin that could keep the stubborn weeds at bay. Purple grass is native to the planet, the weeds that crawl in from the neighboring properties is not. The nearby estates settle for more resilient grass, imported from other planets and ecosystems.

Not our grandmama.

Now there’s a concrete landing pad in the middle of the yard with the latest model of interplanetary ship. Frin forbid our parents should be seen in anything other than the most ostentatious display of their wealth.

Aaoric offers me his arm, and I slide my fingers into the crook of his elbow. We take a collective breath before heading down the slope to the ship.

“You’re late,” grumbles Father. He barely looks up from his reading device, scrolling away at the headlines from the neighboring planets. Mother sits next to him, her back ramrod straight, her keen gaze locked on Aaoric and me.

“I expected punctuality from you, Gennelle,” she chastises. She holds a small fan in her hand, waving it against the warmth of the ship. She casts a stern gaze to the attending near her. “Is there no cool air on this ship?” Her tone is clipped, and the attending flinches.

“Yes, duchess – it just takes some time to cool, as the ship is so large…”

“If I wanted excuses, I would have asked for them,” she interrupts sharply.

Aaoric stiffens next to me, my fingers trapped against his muscled elbow. I dig my nails into his arm in warning.

“I’ve whipped a servant for less,” Mother hisses, just loud enough for the attending to hear. His eyes widen and he disappears into the cockpit. Aaoric takes a few steadying breaths next to me before crossing the ship to sit in the farthest chair from Mother and Father.

“Ah ah,” Father chides, his eyes locking on Aaoric from over his reading device. “We’ve much to talk about before we land. This is an important trip.”

Aaoric chooses the seat closest to Father. I take the one next to him, close enough to hear. Father never includes me in his discussions with Aaoric, so I must include myself. I pull a cross stitch from my bag and begin to work on that, eyes focused on the item in front of me.

“What’s so important about this trip?” Aaoric asks. He’s given more liberty to sass our parents than I am. If I asked such a question the consequences would be dire.

“You shall see. In the meantime, I’d like to discuss the state of nearby planets with you. It seems as though our neighbors on Tatin are in talks to add a trade tax to all products imported. They’re also increasing taxes on exports,” Father tells Aaoric.

“Interesting,” Aaoric says flatly.

“Why ever would they do that?” Mother laughs from her chair. Like me, she stays close enough to hear. Unlike me, she is comfortable interrupting. Also unlike me, Father cares about what she has to say.

“They’re idiots,” Father replies. The obvious answer is on the tip of my tongue – that the people of Tatin rely on cheap products because their quality goods are exported for a higher price. By making it more expensive for the products to leave the planet, they give their people access to better quality goods. Father would know that if he paid attention to any news source other than the Planetary Cadet.

“Wouldn’t know a good business decision if it crashed into their capitol,” Father adds.

I resist the urge to give a pointed look around the spacious craft, meant for a family three times our size. Instead, I continue to fiddle with my cross stitch, hoping that whoever engineered this craft cut a corner somewhere and we burn up the minute we leave Hothin’s atmosphere.

“Now approaching: Gagos,” the pilot says over the loudspeaker.

Father jerks upright from his seat, having fallen asleep shortly after we left Hothin. Aaoric pockets his communication device, which he’s been using to discretely message through the entire trip after Mother nodded off as well.