Zac
His heart thudded in his chest. She was going back to Earth as soon as this mission was over. He’d thought he’d have more time.
He shook his head. “When were you going to tell me?”
Laila sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I received orders this afternoon. I haven’t had time to tell you.”
“Sure. I knew you’d be leaving at some stage.” Zac forced himself to smile.
“Zac—”
“There’s a lot to get done before tomorrow, so I’m going to pack.” He said, turning on his heel.
He made his way back to his quarters and began mindlessly packing.
A little voice niggled in the back of his mind. Perhaps T’arq was right. Perhaps he had changed.
Zac sat heavily on his bed, dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t want her to see him as a failure. He wanted her to see him the way he had been, not the shadow of that man he was now.
Zac flopped backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
What was he, if not a Taurean warrior?
The last time he felt this conflicted was when he had been in the hospital on Taurus, recovering after surgery. His parents had arrived unannounced on the same day Zac had found out only a handful of his warriors had survived the battle that had almost killed him. He hadn’t been able to save them.
He had been enraged.
The day was beautiful; the light filtering through the windows of the room warming him as he sat in a chair by the window. He had spent the morning in the rehabilitation unit, learning to use his arm again. The frustration of not being able to do simple tasks had built until anger had threatened to burst from every pore. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was.
His parents had entered his room without knocking, interrupting his melancholic mood, his mother rushing towards him, but his father held back, standing stiffly just inside the doorway.
“Zac,” his mother gushed, embracing him.
“Mother.” He said. The scent of her floral perfume washed over him, and her traditional Taurean dress brushed softly against him. He hesitantly hugged her back, wary of hurting her by not being able to control his arm properly, so only using his good arm.
He had wondered if he would always think of his arms as good and bad?
A cough brought his attention to his father. “I heard you tried to quit.”
“I have lodged my resignation, yes,” Zac replied as he let his mother go and turned to face his father. The famous War Commander Lat Qu'Rell.
“Lat, please.” His mother moved to stand in front of Zac, reaching a hand towards his father. “Can we just visit our son?”
His father sighed and ran a hand through his hair in a gesture so similar to Zac's own.
“What does it matter?” Zac turned away to stare out the window again, not caring if his parents stayed or left.
“Listen to me, son. I have pulled in a favor for you.”
Zac snorted. Of course, a favor so that the Qu'Rell name did not lose any of the standing it had with the other old families. He felt nauseous. A dull roar filled his ears, and he didn't catch the next thing his father said.
“... advisor to the Supreme Commander himself.”
“What?” What could he offer Taurus’ leader?
Zac's father's expression softened slightly, which was the equivalent of glaciers melting. “The new leader has... different ways of doing things than his father.”
He stared, stunned.
