I tumbled from the scene, dizzied. I fell against the wall and slid to the floor. I gasped for air; I wanted to cry. What absolute cruelty! Father crouched beside me. I looked into his eyes with utter disbelief. He knew everything. Everything! He was the greatest of us but did nothing to right the wrong. With all of his power, why would he not act?

“Why,” I managed at last to ask? It was a pitiful, small noise like a croaking toad in one of the ponds of the Seed Ship.

He closed his eyes for a moment and stood. He walked to the bench and stood behind it looking into the GUF. I could not have seen it coming but I jumped to my feet in a sudden rage.

I demanded, “Why? How can you know and not care?” My words challenged father in a manner that few dared.

The move was unexpected; father spun to face me. In the space between two heartbeats, father blazed white. He was a sun standing before me. Instinctively, I threw up a hand to shield my eyes. I stumbled back from him in a panic. Then, the light from his person faded but the anger remained on his hardened face. I saw that his fists were clenched and he struggled to contain his rage. At that moment, I was genuinely afraid. He bit off the words of his reply. Each of them was tangible as if they struck me physically.

All but growling, he blasted me with his answer. “As long as I live, I am King. You are not. I am. I created this reality and I will command it.”

My legs trembled. I went to the marble bench and sat heavily, my back to the GUF, and tried to calm my ragged breathing. Father turned away from me, then, he turned back to me and I cast my eyes toward the white floor. He clenched and opened his fists as he, too, tried to calm himself. I saw from the corner of my eye that he turned and paced the broad expanse of the white room. How could I bring the case of the abused Kee before someone who would not be called to account? It was a moment in time both tense and silent. In my mind, father stamped back and forth, each footfall a thunderous accent to his wrath. Yet, he made not a sound. As for my anger, it was wholly displaced by the emptiness I felt. Father spoke as he paced.

“I can blind a molecular with my light. I can walk through walls. I can stand on any ship within my armada without the need for a ferry or transport tree. I am the king for a reason, son. Yes, I know what's going on but you are also empowered. None of you lack what you need to do that which is right.”

He was standing before me again. He was looking down at me while I could only look at the floor. The more father loomed, the more I withered in his sight. Yet, somehow, I found my voice.

“I'm sorry, father,” I said in a small voice.

Father commanded, “Stand. Face me.”

I obeyed. I straightened my shoulders before the king and looked into his eyes hoping to show some strength. I studied my father's face and discovered that his anger had passed. He stood before me in full possession of the moment. Then, he reached out and placed his hands upon my shoulders.

“Don't be sorry,” he said to me. “Do something. I have set all things in motion. Am I the only one to make things right?” He turned away and continued. “As my son, you have more authority than most. You solve the matter.”

Father returned to the bench and sat looking into the GUF. I turned to keep him in my sight as I stood behind him. He spoke softly, then.

“I really can't say how much longer I have. When I go . . .”

As he paused, I interrupted, saying, “Father. Please don't speak of it.”

My plea was earnest but he brushed it aside as he continued, “When I go, promise to place me in this coff. Put me with my friends.”

“Father . . .”

“Promise me.” His voice had become stern and commanding.

I dropped my head with a sigh and answered, “I promise.”

When I looked back up, father was standing by The GUF. He drew his fingers lightly across the surface. He leaned forward to place his brow against the orb, the largest in the fleet. I could see the inner mist coiling toward his forehead and I remember wondering if the GUF called to him.

“Come,” he called. “Put your ear to it.”

I came. I put my ear to the GUF. There was a hush between us as I listened. Not even in my childhood had I been so inclined. I accepted it as a part of my life. I believed what they said it did. I never questioned; I simply was not interested. It all seemed a matter for the techs. Yet, there I stood, both I and my father with our heads against the GUF. I began to ask myself why when I felt something. To be precise, I felt and I heard. I sought father's eyes only to notice a twinkle of mirth – a sparkle that connected us on a level I had always craved.

Looking into my eyes, father whispered, “Can you hear them? I think they are trying to speak.”

With a smile, I whispered back, “What are they saying?”

Without warning, he turned and seated himself on the bench. He shrugged off my query. “Well, now, that's the question. Isn't it?” He gestured for me to join him on the marble seat and as I complied, he expanded upon his thoughts. He said, “I think they want my help. They would communicate from there to here but a problem prevents them.”

I offered, “If anyone can solve their problem, it is you.”

My emotions had been up and down and up again. Father's next words brought me to the bottom; I hit hard.

“Ah,” he said, “but, I must solve it from the other side.”

I recall placing a hand on my chest as my molecular heart beat painfully within. “You are always right,” I replied, “but I hope you are wrong about that.”

He reached out to pat my knee. When he smiled, I recall the lines at the corners of his eyes. An Atomic could do whatever he chose with his face. Many opted out when it came to such details. I am glad that father kept them. Remembering such details gives me comfort. I found little solace in that exchange. I confess now that I was at a loss to keep up with the twists and turns of the conversation. What he said next, I did not see coming.

He said, “I've been in contact with your brother. I have asked him to return early. If all goes well, you will see LUC in some forty revolutions.” Then he smiled at my astonishment.

“LUC,” I said.

I exhaled my brother's name. Most names were a mix of letters and numerals. My brother's name was one of those rare formations with all letters. All of us pronounced his name as the word loose. I wondered about his return. How he might have changed, I could not guess. The vision from my rousing flashed before my inner eye. I recalled how proud he had been to become the commander of the planet makers, as we called them. He marshaled beneath him an impressive force of Terra-forming technicians. I was just as proud. It was to be his first mission. I had mixed emotions about his return. Father gave me a moment for the news to sink in before he continued.

“Now, do as I say and bring me the red box from the anti-chamber.”

I thought it was at first a simple diversion from the topic that so weighed upon me. Father was that way – mercurial at times. I jumped to his command, admittedly with some relief, and walked around to the far side of the GUF. Behind the GUF was an open doorway that led into the anti-chamber, a large, semi-circular room with doors at each far end. Father's offices were, by far, the most expansive of the many offices found on the upper tier. Within was a desk and I could immediately see that a small red box sat in the middle beneath a floating light. I took it quickly and returned. I found my father smiling at my approach, and I have to say, I had never known him to smile as often as he did in that rotation.

“Go on,” he said as I seated myself, “open it.”

The box was a bright red, composed of some synthetic. I pushed back the lid and looked inside. There, nestled within a foam retainer, was a pendant. I pulled it out with a genuine smile of appreciation. Father rarely gave gifts. I confess I felt special at that moment. It still means the world to me. A thin gold chain lay across my palm at the end of which hung two flat bars pressed close against each other. They were a bright red, opalescent like a gemstone. Father took it from my hand and opened the clasp. He placed it around my neck with deliberate care, smoothing my hair on my shoulders when he was done.

“I have one just like it about my neck,” he said, revealing the pendant from beneath his snowy beard. When he had tucked it back below his robe, he took a solemn tone.

“It is a node I had specially made,” he explained. “It's like a puzzle; you'll have to figure it out. This will put you in personal contact with me. What you know, I will know. Listen closely, son. I authorize you to conduct an investigation into the abuse of the Kee. Take your matter to the court of inquiry; I will stand behind you.”