YEAR: 25

Braheton City, Central Tharsis, Mars

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Alex sat on his bed, staring at the now-useless holodisk. He had cried for so long that he'd lulled himself into numbness, a state he found preferable to the pain of the raw grief he'd felt earlier. The worst part was that even after watching his father's message, he barely knew anything more than he had before.

After his initial greeting, Ben had continued on.

"I was hoping this day would never come, at least not in this manner or with this timing. Not because your mother and I must be dead—although I'm not thrilled about that, I admit—but because you're now in charge of some delicate information. Information is a weak and somewhat inaccurate word for it, but we'll go with that for now.

"Here's the problem, Benji—or Alex, as you and your mother prefer. You may not believe this, but I know you. I know you better than you think. And once you get your hands on this information, I know what you'll want to do with it. Which, unfortunately, is the exact opposite of what I've been trying to accomplish for the last twenty years or so. Still, I hope you'll at least consider my point of view once you know more. I was hoping to sway you to my side of things with time, once you were old enough, or even finish the job without you ever knowing about it, but now, obviously, I have no time.

"Here's the part that's going to piss you off. I can't tell you what the information is. Not yet, anyway. It would be neither practical nor safe for you to have it, not while you're still a broke university student with no resources. Did you end up at Kepler? I hope not. That has the potential of complicating things quite a bit. You're much more insulated at Harvard.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I don't believe you're smart enough to handle this thing, maybe even that I don't love you. Neither of those is true. I do love you, Benji. Even if we don't get along that well, you're still my son. And I figured out a long time ago that you're twice as smart as me even on your worst days. Sarita likes to say you're too nice for me. She's probably right. I've never played well with nice.

"Another thing. Because it's been seven months since I died, certain people may have heard by now of my untimely demise. You may be followed or even approached. Don't say anything and you'll be fine. You have people around you, who you'll never see if they're doing their jobs right, who are protecting you. As long as you're information-free, so to speak, you're safe. But just as a backup, I built a transmission into this chip that has alerted a particular associate of mine what has happened and that you're watching this. He's the only person besides me who knows all of what I do, and believe me, he won't let anything happen to you.

"I know I'm being vague, but this information is important. It's more important than you can imagine. It's not an exaggeration to say it could affect the lives of everyone in Settled Space—hell, to a certain extent it already has. Wars have been fought over less. It has that power, Benji, and you're now the keeper of its potential, just as I was. Not to get too dramatic, but all will be revealed in time. Once it is, you may wish it wasn't. I apologize for that, but I didn't live long enough to bury it the way I wanted to, so now it's in your hands.

"So why am I telling you this at all? Two reasons. One, to get you used to the idea that big change for you is coming on a personal level. The change isn't all bad. You'll see that much soon enough. The second reason is to let you know you're up to the task. Hell, if you climbed that bridge to get this far, you have more balls than I ever gave you credit for. And even if you don't take what I think is the best course of action, you have a better chance than anyone else in the galaxy of taking this thing and using it for good. I mean that sincerely, Benji. You're principled, even to the point of naïveté. That drives me nuts sometimes, but it serves this particular purpose perfectly.

"Oh, one more thing. I'm sorry for what's about to happen next. It's nothing personal, just a precaution so no one else stumbles across this. I don't want anyone besides my people knowing I've communicated with you. Luckily that brain of yours can play things back at will, so at least you have your memories."

With that, his father disappeared and the holodisk went inert. Alex immediately tried to reactivate it, but it was hopeless; whatever his father had done had fried the entire unit. All that data, all the images of his family—of his sister—gone. For the first time since their deaths, he could not control himself. He slumped to the ground next to his desk and sobbed, only dimly aware of Ric standing nearby. The grief he had so carefully compartmentalized burst all at once from its confinement and flooded his normally ordered mind. For once, he could not reason, but could only feel.

At some point, Ric discreetly left to give him privacy, and Alex eventually fell into a dreamless sleep after wearing himself out with his anguish. When he woke, Ric had returned, sitting on the bed opposite reading a book on his loke. Ric nodded to a bag on the desk when Alex rose. "Marta's. I thought you may be hungry."

"Thanks." Although he didn't feel hungry, he felt he should make an effort because Ric had gone to the trouble of bringing him dinner. Once he started eating, however, he found he was ravenous, maybe for the first time since his family's passing. The food was the same as always—the basic tapas platter with red beans and rice—but somehow it tasted different, more vivid. Even Ric seemed surprised at his newfound appetite.

"I've never seen you eat that much at one sitting before. Well done."

Alex's stomach gurgled. "I think I'm still hungry."

"Here." Ric retrieved a bag from under his bed and tossed it at him. Alex peeked inside. Shortbread. Normally not his thing, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He accepted it, for once glad of Ric's food hoarding tendencies.

"I'm sorry I got so emotional," he said after inhaling several of the small cookies. Sleep and food had grounded him, and now he felt awkward.

"Are you joking? I'm relieved. You've been abnormally calm for someone who recently lost his entire family. I was a little worried until now."

"I don't feel calm. Not ever."

Ric gave him a long look. "Aye. I can see that now that Robot Alex has retreated."

"Robot Alex?"

"That's what my friends call you. No to my face, mind you, but they've got a point." Ric held up a hand, forestalling Alex's half-formed reply, and changed the subject abruptly. "Your sister. Have you got any holos left of her?"

Alex put the bag down, feeling bleak again. "A fair number on my Feed account. But hers is empty because my parents wouldn't allow her to use it until she was sixteen, and she died before that. They barely kept anything on their own Feeds due to my father's weird paranoia about privacy. All the old family stuff was on that disk." A lengthy silence ensued before he felt compelled to speak. "I miss her."

"I'm sure you do. You told me before she was your best friend."

"She was. We told each other everything, and even though she was younger than me, I could rely on her to tell me exactly what was what. Do you know what I mean?"

Ric smiled as he shoved the remains of the shortbread back under the bed. It was a miracle they didn't have bugs. "I do know. Tay's the same way. I can't imagine losing her."

Alex looked at the dead holodisk. "I should get rid of that, I guess."

Ric followed his gaze. "What do you think your da is talking about? Do you have any idea?"

"None."

"I know you've mentioned once or twice you didn't get along very well, but I didn't realize he was…" Ric paused as though searching for the right word. Alex filled it in for him.

"A jerk?"

"That's no my meaning," said Ric, although he looked relieved Alex had acknowledged it. "I suppose I was expecting an older version of you, is all. He's really nothing like you apart from your looks."

"He's not. Wasn't." Alex frowned. His father's holo had muddled things, made the past bleed into the present and, apparently, the future. "He wasn't always like that. Like he was on the holo, I mean. Sometimes he'd take me and Sadie places, act almost like a normal father, especially when we were younger. And he always adored Sadie. But when I got older… I don't know what happened. Maybe we were too different to get along, like my mother thought. We argued a lot, especially that year I was in France. He always seemed disappointed in me no matter what I did."

He paused. Voicing the next memory would give it the weight of reality, which was ridiculous. It had already happened; it was already real. Yet somehow, speaking things aloud, telling them to another person, made things concrete for him. He didn't understand why, only knew it had always been that way. He met Ric's eyes, expecting judgment—which he deserved.

"The last time I ever spoke to him we argued, actually. I wanted to quit Harvard and come here to Kepler for planetary geology. I had already applied for a transfer but hadn't told my parents yet. I don't know how he found out, but he did, and he went nuts. He loked me screaming about how I'd hidden it from him and he wouldn't let me throw myself to the wolves at Kepler and Trident—those were his exact words. I knew he disliked Trident, of course, but didn't realize how much until that day. I had a tuition scholarship at Harvard, but not for here. He told me he wouldn't pay for Kepler. Not even for the gate jump, he said. I got mad, and it turned into a blowout. That's why I wasn't with my family when they had the accident. They had gone to the airport to pick me up for the school break, but I was so mad that I never got on the flight. I was still in France when their car crashed. With a girl I'd met the night before."

"I see." If Ric was scandalized, he hid it well. "I'm sorry things happened that way, but it's no your fault your family was killed. The car would have failed regardless of who was or wasn't in it, aye? Then you'd be dead too."

Anger surged through him. "But maybe it would have broken down while it was grounded. If they hadn't waited so long for me to never show up, the timing would have been completely different. Don't you see?"

Ric seemed taken aback by his vehemence. "Is that what you've been telling yourself?"

"It's the truth."

"It's a bunch of horseshit, is what it is. You're a genius, Alex, but sometimes you're no so smart."

"Forget it. You don't understand."

"I do understand. My mother died when I was young. Do you see me blaming myself for it?"

Alex's anger gave way to regret at his mini-tantrum. He knew Ric's mother wasn't around, but he'd been under the impression she'd left. "I didn't realize. What happened?"

"Hypergate. Atoms scattered."

Alex felt shamed now, remembering the times he'd teased Ric for his luddite phobias of elevators and hypergates. "That's awful. I didn't know that happened in real life."

"It happens about as often as aircars failing, I expect."

"How old were you?"

"I was only three. I don't remember her, really. In that way I suppose I'm lucky, if you'd call such a thing luck. I think Da took it hard, because there are no holos or anything of her around that I've ever found, and he never speaks of her."

"I'm sorry."

Ric shrugged, looking wistful. It was the closest Alex had seen him to sad. "It's just life, aye? I can't complain too much. Darius and Daddo and Mrs. Kirby took good care of me, and of course I had Tay."

Alex noticed that Ric neglected to mention his own father but didn't press for details. They'd had enough drama for one evening. Instead he moved his loke from the desk to the bed. "Space Pirates," he said. "Which episode did we leave off on?"

Ric smiled. "I knew you'd come around. This is the best thing ever to exist on the Feed. You'll see. Of course, you've got over twenty years of catching up to do, so it'll take a while."

Alex's smile was genuine as they settled back to watch. He had no intention of catching up on Space Pirates, but for now he was thankful to have Ric. He could suffer a few episodes of blue-skinned princess pirates for the company of a true friend.