Time of Scorn

Chapter 11: tantrums

Tyson was shocked. Libba usurping Dashiell would have happened on Earth. The scandal would crush both of their careers. But here, partners weren't as big of a deal. At least, not in terms of stepping into each other's way. No one else seemed bothered by the upset, and if anything, the whole base seemed relieved.

"Well," Dylan said, walking up to stand next to him. "We won't have to worry about Dashiell for a while."

There was food and drink set on tables around the room. Someone was pouring wine. Libba was standing in the middle, shaking hands and smiling. Dashiell was nowhere to be seen. Tyson looked for his parents, curious as to where they stood on this issue. His mother had always been the ambitious one, but the political party had decided Titus made for a better vice president. He was friendlier, they thought.

He finally spotted them next to table with wine. They were surrounded by people, but they didn't talk to anyone.

"I'm going to talk to my parents," Tyson told Dylan. "You should congratulate Libba. It'll be good to have her as captain."

"I hope so," Dylan agreed.

Tyson wormed his way through the room of people laughing and talking. He didn't hear much about the election, but rather people had already turned this into an extra vacation day. There were conversations about work, family, friends and gossip, but not much about Dashiell. Another difference from Earth, he thought. Back there, it would be a never-ending news cycle about Dashiell's fall from grace.

"You only come talk to us when there's been some sort of drama on the base and you want to know if it's our fault," his father noted as Tyson approached. "Hello son."

"Hello," Tyson responded. "I'm still not happy about being dragged to this base."

"You've made some friends," Val remarked, nodding towards Dylan. "And Madison thinks you're great. I think you can do just as much good here as you planned on Earth, Ty."

"Sure, but I'm never going to drink a latte again, or watch a football game," Tyson pointed out. "And I never consented to be here. I don't know why that's so hard to understand."

"Because it's been nearly a cycle and you don't even message us," Val replied. "I hoped that with this starting over, we could put aside some of our political differences and be friendly towards each other at least."

"Come to lunch," his father suggested. "You can talk about what you need for work. Everyone seemed like the baskets tournament you hosted; let us help you pay for it."

Tyson considered. He knew his parents were resorting to their old tricks, but he did need the credits. The baskets game had wiped him out and while Dylan assured him that she was happy to help, he didn't like relying on credits that were also Levi's.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "I'd like to stay and mingle for a while, if that's all right."

Titus and Val smiled at him; his father clapped Tyson on the arm.

"Great. We'll message you when we get lunch started."

They set their glasses down and headed out of the room. Tyson watched them go; hoping that this lunch wouldn't go as poorly as some of the attempts in the past. Alcott wouldn't be there to mitigate. He could invite Dylan, but no; his parents didn't understand the implications of his crush on her and might tell the wrong people. He didn't want to jeopardize Dylan's work like that.

"What did they say?" Dylan inquired, coming up behind him.

"I didn't ask; they want me to come over for lunch," Tyson told her. "Who'd you end up sitting by?"