Nero’s eyes meet mine. He blinks once, says, “It makes me happy to know the place I will be protecting is a beautiful land.”

I bite my lip. So… he knew.

And, as I cross my arms, I think, to hell with inspiring fear on a fearless man.

I take a seat on the opposite end of the pod. “How can you say that so easily?” I ask him.

He tilts his head. “Say what?”

“That the world is beautiful,” I say. “You’ve barely seen any of it, and for what you do know of its population… surely, you must think we are repulsive creatures for sending you out there.”

For reasons I am unable to understand, this gets another smile out of him. “Not really,” Nero tells me, his tone as peaceful as one’s voice can be in such a situation. “I understand the consequences. I understand you did not have a choice. I assure you—I think it is beautiful.” He turns back to the window—wrapped around half the ship in a cold embrace—before us. “If it is possible to see such sights in this current plane of existence,” Nero says, “then, I cannot help but think everything will be all right in the end, and that my purpose is true.”

“It wasn’t a lie then?” I blurt. “When you said you were going to come back, you truly meant it?”

“Of course.” Nero gives me a curt nod. His eyes—his eyes that are made up of paradise’s colors, of hope—meet mine once again. “I never meant to run away. I told you, I want to see the world, to see what is around me before I expire.”

It pains me to hear anyone, let alone he who has only been alive for so little time, speak of his life this way. The stark divide between Nero and the comrades I used to know become clear in my mind as I hear echoes of them asking themselves where they will be tomorrow, in a year, and why they are here.

I gulp, but it isn’t helpful. The nerves that have built up in my throat, and threaten to steal the oxygen from my lungs, are still here; as is the croak in my voice. “I’m sorry,” I say it as if he were the only one involved, as if I hadn’t offered to sacrifice myself before we made him, as if… father hadn’t shut me down. “I’m sorry,” I echo as tears build up in my eyes again when I think of the burden we have forced onto him. “I’m sorry, Nero. I do not think our freedom is worth your suffering. I’m sorry. You never did anything wrong. I’m sorry. I wanted to do it, but they wouldn’t let me.” The guilt that had built up in my mind over these past few months washes over me. Tears build up in my eyes again. I shake my head. “They… They told me it would be fine. They said you wouldn’t be intelligent enough to understand the concept of death.” I sniffle. “B-but, now that I—” The end of my phrase is broken by my breathlessness. Now that I know it isn’t the case, I think, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.
I pause. My head hangs low, and my trousers are stained with tears. “If they had informed me it was going to be like this,” I mutter, “I would have found another way to—”

“Please don’t say that,” Nero blurts. “Please don’t tell me you regret bringing me to life, Sire!” He places a hand against his artificial heart. “I’m very happy to be here. No matter how much time I have—it is an honor to be able to breathe.”

“Nero…” I mumble his name into the crook of my elbow and groan in a way that would make my relatives scream if they could be here to see my uncanny resemblance with the Vlexidian commoners. “I… truly, I wish I knew what to say to that, however… quite frankly, I’m speechless.”

“Then,” he whispers, “you don’t have to say a word, Sire. I understand, I do.”

There is a bout of silence before I clear my throat and speak again. “Hey…” I say. “Why you keep on calling me Sire? Is that really something that appeals to you?”

“Um…” Nero mutters something I do not quite catch. He looks around, as if he is suddenly a little too nervous, and says, “Is Sire not your name, Sire?”