Delia Yonce and her magical curl

Escape from the Moon Base

Her heart sank at the thought of her brother Galbraith ending up in the hands of people who saw him as just another project to be completed. Delia sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Galbraith, and felt a wave of panic rise in her chest. Thoughts of his future haunted her. Images appeared in her mind-gray training halls where infants like him were transformed into soulless soldiers, following orders without hesitation.

"No," she whispered, looking at his tiny, peaceful face. "You can't go through this. You can't become what they want you to be."

Plans began to form in Delia's mind. She needed to act. Thinking of Schaeymoure, she decided she needed to talk to him. He was her mentor, and although he sometimes had strange ideas, Delia knew he was always on her side. She hoped he could help her find a way to protect Galbraith from those who planned to use him.

As Delia left her room, a sense of determination washed over her. She hurried through the corridors of Moonbase toward Schaeymoure's office, her steps confident. She felt a fire burning inside her, ready to ignite. When she finally reached Schaeymoure's office, she knocked and entered without waiting for an answer. The sergeant looked up from his papers and, noticing her anxious expression, immediately knew something was wrong.

"Delia, what happened?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I need to talk to you," she began, trying to pull herself together. "It's important. It concerns Galbraith."

Schaeymoure frowned, noticing the seriousness of her tone. Delia, having collected her thoughts, began to talk about her fears, about how her brother should not become part of the war machine, about the horrors that awaited him in the future.

"Schaeymoure, he can't be someone else's tool," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "He should be able to live his life like anyone else. I can't let that happen!"

The sergeant listened attentively, and it was clear from his face that he understood the seriousness of the situation.

"Delia, I understand how you feel. This is a difficult situation, and I can't say I didn't expect you to react this way. But you have to understand that some things are beyond our control. We are in a very difficult political situation, and Galbraith is not the only project we are pursuing."

Delia looked at Schaeymoure, her heart aching with despair.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "He won't be a regular soldier. He won't have the choices you and I do. This isn't just service; this is his life, at stake. He won't be able to laugh with his friends, he won't be able to just be a kid."

Schaeymoure leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his face expressionless, as if he had heard her but didn't want to take her words seriously.

"Delia, the army has rules, and service is an honor. Galbraith was created for one purpose, and he will do it. This is what he was meant to do."

"Destined?" She almost screamed. "He can't be destined just to follow someone else's orders! He's not a robot, Schaeymoure! He's a living person, and he has the right to a life of choice and freedom!"

Her voice cracked with suppressed emotion, but Schaeymoure didn't seem to notice her pain. He simply continued to look at her with the same hard confidence he always had.

"Your emotional approach to this will not help. You must understand that there is a lot of cruelty in our world, and it is not always possible to make a choice."

Schaeymoure's words seemed to cut to Delia's soul. She could not believe that the man who had once been her mentor could be so indifferent to her brother's fate.