What May Come

"Uncle," Canas interrupted, "please, I need an answer."

"Are you familiar with the name of Anlon mul'Gan, boy?" Vanta demanded.

"Of course I am," Canas replied, his face stricken. The question struck like a physical blow.

Vanta tilted his chin imperiously. "He was the finest pilot I've ever known. He was my daj. And now the daj I am currently saddled with informs me that he has now taken a var from a dissolved family as his wife. So you will forgive me, boy, if I need a moment to process this information before I pass judgement on the son of my dear friend and wed-brother!"

Canas straightened his back and went rigid.

"And not just any var, no. You choose the twin of the monster who tried to take your sister away from us!"

Nura clenched her teeth. She wanted to speak up against Vanta invoking her against Canas, but now wasn't the time.

Vanta was upset, to be sure, but it was coming from a place of surprise, not entirely from disapproval. Canas understood this as well, but that didn't make the things their uncle said in haste any less hurtful.

He was a man accustomed to decisive action. Raising two children on his own had been a drastic change to the life he had led. When confronted with Canas' troublemaking or Nura's melancholy, his first instinct was to meet it with force and drive it into submission. Then, his thoughts tended to catch up with his actions, and he dealt with the situation better and made amends as needed.

"This is my fault," Vanta said. He turned around and pounded his fist against the wall of his office aboard the Fanthara. "Everything goes back to that frigate. Young daj'Korr acted bravely and with honor, but he shouldn't have had to face that thing alone."

Canas took a tentative step towards him. "You couldn't have known, Uncle. Not even the Psy-Agency suspected how powerful shi'Zhar was. There was no reason to believe Nura wouldn't be safe with the soldiers."

"There was every reason to believe," Vanta snapped harshly. "I knew where I was. That creature was a psychic!"

Canas backed away and lowered his eyes.

Nura flinched as well. While Canas and their uncle paced the office like caged animals, she sat on the one sofa in the room.

It was a large office, as befitted the patriarch of the Ganlera and the head of Ganlera Materiel. The whole family suite Nura and Canas once shared with their parents could've fit within this room.

Vanta turned away from the wall, and he got a pained look on his aging face. "Forgive me, boy. I..." The old man swept a hand over the silver hair on his head. "You and your sister are not psychics. You're latents. There's a difference."

Being a latent simply meant you were a psychic too insignificant to be worth the expense of registering. Nura didn't find the distinction to be as comforting as her uncle meant it to be— largely due to her hunch that Vanta was saying so to convince himself as much as his daj.

Would she ever stop getting these hunches? Every time she felt one whisper to her, she couldn't help but think they made her closer to what Velos had been. If she could, she would've silenced them forever.

While Vanta continued to blame himself for being drawn away to help secure the frigate and Canas tried futilely to ease his guilt, Nura kept her eyes on the metal plating of the office floor.

Vanta believed her to be traumatized, and Nura supposed that was true in its own way. However, she wasn't consumed with fear, numb with shock, or even experiencing guilt over her failure to help Kalko. Not anymore— not with Meras' parting words still in her heart. What occupied her and kept her silent was worry for what lay ahead. Nura had plans, and though she was certain it was the right thing to do, there was an element of risk to it.