Howard sat at the long dining room table seated across from his Julia, who focused on her studies and ignored his presence, a practiced routine that had become something like a professional sport to her. While they sat in their regular silence, Miss Berkshire and the other house servants brought in their breakfast. They each were to eat eggs, bacon, toast, and an assortment of seared vegetables that sizzled wonderfully on white plates. Howard took his knife and fork and shoved down the food in mere minutes, while his sister merely picked at hers and glared at him occasionally.
“You eat like a pig.” She observed with disdain.
“I can’t help that I’m hungry,” Howard replied, covering his mouth as he spoke.
“I could index your appetite as a major cost of this household’s finances.”
“Oh stop that!” Miss Berkshire scolded Julia as she swung into the room with Howard’s second plate, knowing full well he would already be done with his first. “You see how skinny he is, let him put on some weight.” She swapped his plate smoothly, sliding him another orange juice.
“He could eat the entire pantry and the entire inventory of reserves and still look like an underfed Skep,” Julia pushed herself back from the table and stood, her posture perfectly upright like a ballet dancer. Without another word she left the dining room. Howard watched her go, still chewing his food.
“Don’t mind her, Master Whitman. She’s growing too, just like you.” Miss Berkshire tried to find ways of making Howard see all sides.
“I do wish I’d put on some weight,” he admitted. “I don’t know where all the food is going.”
“You’re young. It’s when you're older that you’ll need to watch what you eat.”
“But I’m hungry all the time!” he protested.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Sometimes it feels like I have a void in my stomach,” Howard poked at himself lightly. “Like it’s just going somewhere else.”
Miss Berkshire cleaned up his second plate and gave him a special treat, a third, smaller plate with grilled cheese.
“Do remind me of this conversation when you’re twenty five and find yourself growing a gut,” she said as she wiped a crumb from his face with her smock.
Howard rolled his eyes but inhaled the extra sandwich quickly. She made the best grilled cheese sandwiches in the colony.
“What do I need to do today?” he asked unenthusiastically, running his finger over the plate to catch some stray sauce.
Miss Berkshire took her tablet from her smock and flicked through the schedule. “Once you’re done with breakfast, you have a macroeconomics lesson with the tutor.”
“Horrible.”
“Microeconomics lessons after that.”
“Dreadful.”
“You have lunch with the other families’ boys a little after eleven-”
“Oh let there be a god of mercy who will slay me before eleven,” he groaned.
“When you get back you are to finish your math homework, take a brisk jog around the grounds, then spend the rest of the afternoon with your father studying investment strategy.”
“Actually I’ll just kill myself instead. I’m sure the god of mercy is busy.” He pushed his chair back and went to leave the room, but was stopped by Miss Berkshire, who straightened out his sloped shoulders and went to fix his tie.
“Your father might beat you to it if you keep leaving the house looking like a mop.”
“At least then I wouldn’t have to have lunch with the boys.”
“Those boys are…” she struggled to find the words.
“Awful?” Howard tried. “Self-obsessed?”
“Awful, self-obsessed brats,” she nodded as she finished his tie. “Just tough it out, young master. One day you’ll be old enough to make the choices around here, and you can spend your time with whoever you want.”
“Perhaps I’ll invite a pirate for dinner,” he said with some amusement.
“Young master!” Miss Berkshire shushed him immediately. “You mustn’t say such things.”
“You must admit that it’d be entertaining conversation. Sailing the cosmos, finding adventure around every corner, doing battle with the Armada…”
“I cannot hear more of this. I need to keep my job. I’d never find a new one in this economy.” She got behind Howard and shoved him towards the doors. “Go! Before you get me in trouble.”
Howard complied, and went off to his lesson, walking as slowly as he could across the house to delay the inevitable. Once there he half paid attention through the entire session, his mind occupied with what questions he’d ask a pirate were he to ever meet one. What was it like, being on the run from the law? How did they inspire their fellow ragtag crew to follow their command? What was it like to feel so free?
He was so occupied with his train of thought that it felt like he blinked and his lessons were over, and it was time to leave the house to attend luncheon with the boys. He strolled down the flower laden path from his house to the country club his father had built a few years ago, where the elite liked to gather. One of the happy accidents of his father’s venture into successful colony building was that other executives ended up purchasing homes on their world, where they would often stay if they had business out on the nearby Shangri-La or just wanted a getaway in the Frontier. For Howard, this unfortunately meant that the heirs of said executives were often on-world, which meant he had the displeasure of spending a lot of time with them.
Howard passed through the lobby, politely greeting the friendly faces of the staff he’d come to know there over the years, who warmly welcomed him back. He always felt weird about being the son of their boss, so he tried his best to always be nice to them. Plus they waited on him hand and foot every time he visited, so how could he not be at least courteous to them?
As per usual he was a few minutes late to the gathering. The other boys had already sat at their regular table, the sunny patio overlooking the golf course under a shaded umbrella. Howard took his usual spot at one end of the table, feigning a quiet greeting to the boys and settling in. Like his lessons, he tended to use these lunches as a time to lose himself in his own thoughts, pretending to listen to the conversation, but mostly ruminating about pirates. Jacob Fulbright, heir to Fulbright Technologies, was parading all about himself and his latest gain on the Exchange, as he often did, waving around yet another expensive looking watch on his wrist.
“I could hardly believe it myself. A full 15% return in such a short time?” Jacob laughed.
“It’s like you can see the future of the Exchange!” replied Kelly Stewart, a 4th generation and certified boot licker in Howard’s mind.
“Maybe if you stopped spending so much time chasing tail you’d actually look up long enough to find a good trade,” Jacob teased.
That got a good laugh out of the rest of the table, today consisting of Kelly Stewart, the group’s troublemaker, and James Tallman, third generation and the smartest of the bunch. Rumor had it that he was already running the books on his mother’s consumer products line.
Each one of the boys had hundreds of years to their family names, their predecessors survivors of economic collapse and corporate cannibalism in the Grand Exchange. This particular group was unique in the fact that each family operated under the parent company of Fulbright Technologies, each family owning a subsidiary of the massive company in some way or another, effectively making Jacob their ringleader by default. Howard was the odd duck out, his father’s fortune being mostly self made mainly thanks to his endeavors in the colony building game. Though the Fulbrights and the other families lived on his father’s world, they didn’t feel they owed him an ounce of respect, and as such barely paid attention to him.
“Didn’t you also lose somewhere in the ballpark of half a million points last month in a day trading racket?” James asked shrewdly.
Howard winced internally, unsure if it was about the massive loss of money or the constant use of buzzwords or sports metaphors that seemed to bloat these types of talks, yet another strange aspect of business he couldn’t quite figure out the origin of.
“Gotta spend money to make money,” Jacob replied.
“You sure are a sixth generational,” James remarked as he sipped his wine.
“That’s such a stereotype. It’s the 8th generation families that really lose all concept of money.” Jacob said dismissively. “I’m not being careless, just ambitious.”
Howard sighed involuntarily at the remark, catching the attention of everyone.
“Oh I’m sorry Whitman, are we boring you?” Kelly asked accusingly. Howard’s eyes widened from his mistake.
“Oh, no! I was doing a Himylayan-Sherpa breathing exercise,” he fibbed, wondering where that knowledge possibly came from.
“Who cares, it’s Whitman,” Jacob replied dismissively.
“Don’t be rude,” James interjected with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh come on! He’s just weird, which is fine! Fine to be weird,” Jacob laughed.
Howard frowned. He supposed he was a bit of an outsider compared to the rest of them, his interests so far removed from their own. He had yawned after all.
“I mean, he grew up jailed in his parent’s attic. It’s not his fault.”
“That’s not true,” Howard shot back, “I was sick, you all know that.”
“Yeah, so you tell us. How did you even get better anyway? Your family have some super-secret medical patent they’re working on?”
“Jacob!” James warned. “We’re guests here.”
“Maybe he’s an android?” Kelly suggested.
“Really this is just absurd,” Howard crossed his arms and made himself smaller, wanting this stop immediately. He wasn’t about to try and tell them about the star again. He knew how that would go.
“I’m just saying!” Jacob said with his hands up. “The stuff second generation families will do to make it to a third can be nuts. I don’t think we can rule out scientific experimentation. I heard about this 2G that fed their offspring a fungus from the Journey Sector to enhance their brain matter? Turned into a Skep!”
Howard balled up his fists at his sides. “Please stop,” he asked through clenched teeth. Jacob and Kelly descend on him like birds of prey, jumping on Howard to poke and prod him with their fingers. Howard tried to swat them away, but they restricted his slender hands easily.
“I think I found an off switch!” Jacob laughed.
“I’m looking for a clone tattoo!” said Kelly.
“Enough!” James snapped suddenly, catching everyone by surprise. He pushed his glasses up his face and let out an angry huff. “You're making fools of yourselves. Leave him alone.”
Jacob surrendered with a bemused look on his face, and Kelly followed his lead.
“Whatever, let’s grab our clubs. I got a good feeling about the greens today. Supposed to be quick,” Jacob proposed. They left, leaving only James and Howard.
There was an awkward silence between them. James stared at his lunch with a searing glare, too mad to speak, while Howard glanced at the ice cubes in his glass meekly.
“Thank you,” Howard said quietly, feeling mild gratitude.
“I can’t stand watching people play with their food,” James replied. “It’s unbecoming of men like us.” The young man stood from his chair, buttoned his suit jacket, and left without another word.
Howard’s gratitude melted like the ice in his glass. He got up, sighing to himself and started the walk home alone. When he returned he went straight to the kitchen where he grabbed a loaf of bread with some sliced meats and cheese, taking them up to the library. He spent the remainder of the afternoon reading quietly about the many beautiful vistas the known galaxy had to offer, his lessons be damned. He gravitated particularly toward the underwater marvels of the Fluorescent home world, a race that’d emerged from the underwater caverns of their watery home some millions of years ago. Underwater volcanoes, caverns made of crystal that displayed a kaleidoscope of colors, and the famed underwater kingdom that housed the species’ royalty.
Howard sighed, wanting nothing more in his heart than to take a trip to someplace magnificent like that, like the pirates he read about as a boy. Braving the Frontier with bravado, living by their rules only.
He wanted more than anything to take a real trip, free of his burdens and obligations. Explore a new place, absorb a new culture. Talk to people he actually found interesting. He’d asked his father once already if he could take a trip someplace not too far off, and was flat out denied. Since then, he’d been developing the nerve to work around his father a little, frame the trip as something more…business oriented.
He wanted to try for Shangri-La, a moderately sized asteroid just about a week away by transport ship. It was there that carriers bringing harvested supplies from the Frontier would transfer cargo to their bulkier, more well protected counter parts, which would sail back to deliver to the more densely populated Confederacy core worlds. Howard figured if he could sell his father on the idea of going there to secure a cheaper partner for their shipping costs, it’d be the perfect excuse.
Checking the clock he realized it was just about time for his lessons with his father to start. He gathered his thoughts and walked boldly down to his fathers study, his intent to throw open the heavy wooden doors and speak with confidence. But the moment he reached out to place his palms against the wood, he hesitated. He could already hear the thousands of ways his father would dismantle his argument, the rejection he would feel at yet another denial. But consequently the thought of having to listen to Jacob Fulbright brag about his portfolio drove him to throw his hesitation away and push his way inside.
“Ah, Howard,” His father greeted him as he entered, looking over a small stack of papers behind his handcrafted wood desk. Howard stopped in front of the desk, feeling a bit defensive, as he always did when he entered his fathers office. It was a small, oddly shaped space. There was plenty of room for him to work on his side of the desk, the table itself being oversized, having at least two computers at any time, piles of books with shelves behind the desk to support more, and large windows with the curtains drawn. The room seemed to draw itself inward toward the person sitting behind the desk, making the guest feel small, like the very walls wanted to squeeze the truth out of them.
“Father,” he returned the simple greeting, standing with his hands behind his back and with the best posture he could manage.
“I thought today we’d look at some more live data, analyze the financials of some companies in the tech sector. I’d like you to examine their ratios and determine which one can repay its debts the quickest they need to.”
“The acid test ratio?” Howard asked.
“That’s my boy,” he pointed at him without looking up from his reports. “Oh, and before we get started, what is the Whitman Way?”
“Actually Father, I’d like to discuss something else-”
“The Whitman Way!” His father snapped.
“Never let them take what is yours,” Howard droned back in reply. It was an awkward saying, not quite catchy, and a bit long. But for whatever reason his Father insisted on its significance.
“That’s right!” His father said with a wave of his finger. “Now, what’s this you’d like to ask me?”
Howard gathered himself by taking a breath. “I think I’ve found an opportunity to save us some money.”
That perked his father’s ears, who set down his report to give him his full attention. He nodded expectantly for Howard to continue.
Feeling confident, he took a step forward toward the desk. “I think I can secure a better partner for moving our minerals, Shangri-La has hundreds of smaller business that would begging to partner with us-”
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“Shangri-La?” His father interjected. “That backwater port? What are we, the Fulbrights? We’re not going to associate with that sort of place.”
Howard was devastated, his entire plan blown out of the water immediately. He scrambled to recover. “But, Father I ran the numbers, we would be saving so much money by partnering with a smaller company, we’re spending a fortune on our shipping-”
“Out of the question. It’ll ruin the reputation I’ve built as being an in-house only company. Besides, doing business with those people is dangerous. Thieves and pirates, the port is crawling with them.” He shook his head, disappointed. “Honestly son, Shangri-La? I understand cutting costs, but what you’re suggesting…it’s unbecoming.”
“We could reinvest the savings into a different part of the business! You’ve said it yourself that we could afford some better equipment for our farming ventures here at home.” His father finally lost his patience/ He slammed his fist down against the desk with a thud that made Howard flinch. “You have some nerve trying to lecture me young man! You couldn’t even make it to your lessons after lunch, and you want to try and tell me how to run my business?”
Howard could not reply, he stood with his head hung low. His appeal had failed. “Sorry, Father.” He said quietly.
“I should think so,” his father snorted, and pointed commandingly for him to sit in the chair across from him. Perhaps as a punishment, their planned lesson shifted from their intended analysis of the tech industry and instead became a long tirade about the various things that annoyed Kirk about the current setup of the Grand Exchange. In his mind he thought they should have been more free to use the Interstate to move their goods without so much oversight and payment to the Confederacy. They were the ones bringing profit, jobs, and living standards to everyday citizens afterall, why should they have to jump through so many hoops to do so? He lamented that the Confederacy was a relic of a bygone age and should be nuked from orbit, that their ideas were ancient and ineffective.
Howard zoned out quickly once his father shifted from ranting about the Interstate to the virtue of hard work and the people working in their mines and fields complained too much. He’d gotten quite good at appearing like he was listening, able to maintain eye contact and nodding occasionally while his mind wandered somewhere else. Luckily for Howard his father seemed to tire himself out a little earlier than usual, and abruptly told him that their lesson was over for the day. Howard got up quickly from his chair, but not so quickly as to let his father think he was fleeing. He briskly made his way to the double doors and reached out for the door handle.
“Oh, Son?” His father called out with slight concern as he retreated, “Jacob’s father mentioned earlier that you were a bit of a sourpuss at lunch today, try to get along with those boys would you? It’s important you keep them in your network!”
Howard’s head drooped again, why had even dared to hope it would have been anything else? He slinked out his father’s office, shutting the doors quietly behind him. He walked to the center of the foyer, listening to the quiet of their home. It was silent, like it always was. Nothing exciting going on, just business as usual. He went to climb the grand staircase, as he did so though he realized he did still have one option, narrow as it might be. But this was important! So he dared to dream one last time.
Instead of climbing all the way back up to his floor, he stopped off at the second floor where the rest of the family’s rooms were. He passed Julia’s quarters and went for the second living room, where his mother often was. He poked his head through, and sure enough there she was, lounging on the couch, some papers piled up next to her. Howard knew it was likely from her father, his grandfather that he'd met perhaps twice. The merger of their families had made them both quite wealthy, and as hands off as she was about finances, even she still had some responsibility.
“Mother?” Howard asked timidly, stepping fully into the room, keeping his back to the door.
She glanced up from her papers idly, a drink in her free hand. “Yes, Howard?”
Howard took a step further into the room, “I was wondering what you’d think of me taking a business trip to Shangri-La?”
She didn’t seem to really hear what he said, not giving him her full attention. “Hm? What for?”
“Research,” he replied vaguely. “I was talking to Father and I think we have an opportunity to absorb more profits than we are currently taking on.”
“Ask your father,” she waved lazily with her free hand.
“Well, the thing is, I already did and he said no-”
“Then why are you asking me about it!” she snapped.
Howard flinched, perhaps this was just as foolish as asking his father. It wasn’t like he had the greatest relationship with her either. He took another step, hovering just a few meters from the couch. “Mother it’s just, I really want to do this. I know it might sound selfish but I’ve worked so hard, and I’m being true when I say I think it will help the business-”
But he was interrupted again. His mother tossed her papers aside and sat up abruptly, her well manicured hand scolding him pointedly. “You need to be more appreciative of what you have, young man!” As she wiggled her pointer finger the jewelry on wrists jingled, like a condescending tambourine. “Your father and I have given you great opportunity and you hardly ever seem grateful for it.”
“Yes, mother,” he fell silent and stared at his shoes, starting to shut down.
“Honestly, I’m not sure where you get it. You should take a page from your sister’s book and focus on your studies.”
“Yes, mother.”
“I need to read these,” she said, dismissing him.
Howard nodded and quickly slipped back out the door, resting against it once it was closed. He swallowed his disappointment, and with a heavy heart he retreated once more to the library where he remained for the rest of the evening curled up in his chair, comforting himself by rereading an old favorite of his, a story of a boy who took to the woods and lived in a hollowed out tree. He fell into a pleasant sleep and dreamed where he was, hiking through a forest that could never end.
The next morning he blew off his morning run. He didn’t show up for his classes, and he didn’t go to lunch with the other boys. He stayed on the upper floors of the estate, and spent the day by himself doing as he used to, reading whatever book seemed interesting to him. It was a fantastic break from his endless grind to follow in his father’s footsteps. He felt wracked with guilt when the day had started, ignoring the calls from his tutor on the house phone, but as the day progressed, the guilt ebbed. Miss Berkshire was the only person he let into the library, who brought him tea and a small mountain of sandwiches. She didn’t comment on his absence from the rest of the house, but she seemed content to see him enjoying himself, if only for a moment.
Howard soaked up the silence, reveling in his old ways. He spent the entire morning reading a wonderful book of fiction about a boy who entered the service of an elite brotherhood of spies for an ancient kingdom, learning many lessons about the value of hardwork and friendship. He’d just gotten to a rather exciting part of the story, where the mentor character revealed all the chores the main character had been doing had been a secret form of training, when the door to the library was thrown open, and Howard’s father stomped inside, an irate look on his face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked accusingly.
Howard shrank a little into his book, alarmed at the sudden entrance.
“Stand up!”
Howard did so obediently like a soldier, the book at his side. His father yanked the book from Howard’s grip and squinted at the cover. “It’s quite good,” Howard started to say, but was cut off.
“I don’t care!” His father interrupted, his tone a knife meant to cut Howard down. “You’ve already wasted half the day. If you were up here reading about something that was applicable, something of use, I might not care. But this? This…drivel? You’re wasting my time!”
“Father,” Howard tried again to speak, feeling tight in his chest. “I’ve been working so hard. I just wanted a little time.” His father shook his head, his face becoming redder by the moment.
“Just a little time?” He asked, his voice becoming shrill and mocking. “Just a little time?!” “Time is the one thing we can’t waste! Time is the one limiting factor we have, the one thing we can’t control, and you want to just waste it?”
“No, Father, I just-”
“I’ve spent every hour, every second of my life, working! Working to make sure you’ll have something, a future, when I die. Your grandfather had nothing! He made a business from nothing. I’m trying to make sure you’ll have wealth, and your children will have wealth. And you what? Want to waste an afternoon reading…fiction?”
“Father it was only a few hours-” Howard stuttered, but his temper was flaring. Why was he always so unreasonable?
“Do you understand what life is like for those who aren’t like us? Do you even have the slightest idea what life is like to be cursed with the mind of a drone? It’s a miserable existence, son. Worrying about food, your home, your family, able to contribute nothing to society! I watched my father kill himself trying to dig out of the hole of the commoner, and I’m not about to standby and watch you try and jump down back into it!”
“I don’t care!” Howard shouted back, catching them both by surprise at the volume he could muster. “I don’t care about any of it!” He said again, with a wincing voice crack. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be a part of the business. I didn’t ask for you, or for grandfather for anything. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Howard couldn’t believe himself, the words had just come tumbling out. But it was true, they both knew it.
His father looked as if he’d just been struck across the face. He raised a finger to point at his son, but couldn’t even manage to do so, his hand balling up into a fist. He looked at the book he’d swiped from Howard, and stared at its cover, his breathing becoming tense and labored.
“And what is it you want to do? He asked in a dangerously quiet tone.
Howard himself was surprised by the question, having never thought about the specifics on what he’d do if he had the freedom to choose. Take a trip? No, it was more than that, a trip was just a small morsel of what he really wanted to do.
“I…I’d like to go on an adventure!” He managed to stammer out an answer.
“What?” His father interrogated him. “Whatever for?”
“I want to meet people, see great sights, maybe even discover something no one has ever seen before!” Howard found himself becoming more sure as he spoke his desires out loud. He imagined himself standing atop a magnificent valley, gazing out over a sea of endless green. He smiled at the thought, only to be pulled back to reality by something catching his vision, the book he’d been reading hurled into the fireplace that’d been quietly crackling to the side of their argument. Howard gasped, shoving his father aside and plunging his hands into the fire to try and save it. His father yanked him backwards by the collar, throwing him clear away from the flames, but not fast enough to spare Howard his hands, which were now blistered and red.
“Look what you’ve done!” His father snarled, grabbing at his son's burnt hands, pressing down on them and causing more pain. Howard tried to pull away but couldn’t escape his father’s grip. “Why did you do that? It was only a book!”
“Father, I-” Howard held back tears, trying to speak, but could only cry out in pain.
“Go to your room!” He relinquished his grip, and Howard took the opportunity to sprint away, bursting out the doors of the library and headed straight for his room. Unable to use his hands, he jammed the door open with his elbows then slammed it behind him with leg. He flopped onto his bed, and when he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, he wept quietly, hoping his father could not hear him.
He flinched when there was a quiet knock at the door, but he recognized the pattern of Miss Berkshire, who let herself in. She’d brought a tray with bandages and painkillers, which she sat between herself at Howard. She silently went about treating him, giving him the pain killers, and wrapping his hands gently in the bandages. As she worked, Howard tried to keep himself from crying, sniffling quietly.
When she’d finished tending to him, his hands wrapped in clean white bandages, unable to move freely, she moved the tray aside and wrapped him up in her arms, at which point Howard started to weep again, his cries suffocated by her smock.
Howard would spend the next week recovering from his burn injuries, which allowed him some extra free time from his regular schedule. He still attended lessons, but his exercise and social engagements were canceled. His father didn’t want any of the other boys to see him in such a sorry state.
Howard used the free time to read, but did so outside of the house to avoid his father’s wrath should it occur again. He hiked the small hill behind their home and dipped just over the edge of its peak so he couldn’t be seen. There he set up a thick blanket and layed out in the sun and snacked on a full basket of apples. However he encountered the problem that his hands were so heavily wrapped, it was hard to turn the pages. He had to paw at the pages carefully, sometimes losing his place or closing the book by accident. But he got the hang of things fairly quickly, and was able to read without too much disruption.
He mostly read non-fiction for once. His off hand joke he’d made to Miss Berkshire about inviting a pirate for dinner caused him to remember his childhood obsession, the Journey Sector, the unexplored region of space at the far reaches of the Confederacy’s frontier. While much of the information about the unstable section of space hadn’t been corroborated all that well yet, the accounts of those who had explored it thus far spoke of a place where the very laws of physics seemed to defy themselves. A place impossibly hard to navigate safely due to modern instruments failing miserably to the environmental conditions. But the risks were well outpaced by the veritable bounty of findings that early explorers were already finding.
It seemed also that since the exploits of the legendary Captain Harlock, pirates and other unsavory folks had taken to the Journey Sector, and had been using it for a number of years now to try and dodge the Confederacy and its Armada forces the more they pushed into the Frontier territories.
The books he’d managed to get his hands on about Halock were primarily accounts of his activities by the Armada, the Confederacy's strongest intergalactic fighting force. They spoke of him as ruthless, dangerous, and a traitor to the galactic government. A scourge to society as a whole. But Howard from all his reading knew there was always another side to these historical sources, and attempted to find some alternative reading about his new subject of obsession, but found it surprisingly difficult to do so, encountering a major obstacle.
The colony still lacked its connection to the Galactic Network of Information, usually shorthanded to simply “Network,” that connected the Confederacy. Their Colony had what was called a Network Bouey, a large satellite in their orbit that could receive Network traffic, but it was slow, painfully slow for most modern needs. Worse yet, even if it weren’t slow, he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to even use a computer beyond using a digital spreadsheet, having spent most of his childhood isolated in one or two rooms with only books. Trying to use the Network to order books himself? He’d surely get caught and reprimanded for attempting to access the material he wanted. So, he had to turn to the one person who could help him, and he wasn’t entirely excited at the prospect. Swallowing his pride he went to his sister's room and knocked on her door, then quickly explained his predicament.
“I’m not doing it,” Julia said outright, not even glancing up from her homework after hearing his request.
“I never ask anything of you!” Howard protested.
“Because you know I’d say no,” she replied flatly, glancing up at him with her cold eyes. Howard paced around her room with impatience, distracted for a moment by how neat and tidy it was compared to his own room.
“Why are you so obtuse?” He exclaimed. She merely raised an eyebrow at him.
“Has Father taught you nothing?” She asked with superiority. “You don’t give anything for free.”
“I don’t want to negotiate with my own sister.”
“And that’s why you’ll be a failure as CEO.” She turned back to her studies.
“Oh fine!” He snapped. “What do you want?”
“For you to be the second child.”
“Well I suppose I’ll just arrange a meeting with the maker of the universe then!”
“Let me know when it's on the books.” She pointed to the door to dismiss him.
Howard placed himself at her desk and crossed his arms firmly.“Ask for something else.”
Julia set down her pen and turned in her chair to face him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She tilted her head slightly in thought, studying Howard’s face in an off putting way. After a moment of analysis, she began nodding slowly as an idea formed in her mind.
“Bring me along on your next lunch with the boys from the other families.”
“What?” Howard asked with surprise. “Why would you want that?”
“Father has said I need my own network, and the women mother keeps trying to set me up with are dull. I want your connections.”
“Done,” Howard said without hesitation, and shook her hand. “I don’t like them anyway.”
“It doesn't matter if you like them or not, they’re not your friends. They’re to be used.” She replied, turning back to her studies and ceased speaking to him.
He took his leave and began the process of biding his time until the delivery arrived. He wanted to make sure he intercepted the books without his father being able to find out about what he was reading. So he quietly had Miss Berkshire and the other members of the staff keep an eye on the incoming deliveries. In just a few weeks time he found a parcel left under his pillow, containing a few books regarding the Journey Sector.
He tore open the package with giddy excitement and immediately began pouring over the pages. He got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to be reading their contents, which brought him a guilty sort of joy. As his eager young mind was exposed to their contents, he found himself sitting straight up on the blanket, eyes widening with each passing sentence.
The first book was titled, ‘The Unofficial Compendium of the Journey Sector,’ compiled by a human by the name of Doughlas Ashworth, which served as a sort of collection of what current information there was regarding the sector of space.
First discovered 100 years ago by a Surveyor, an explorer working on behalf of a company to find habitable or resource rich worlds, found a rift in space that seemed to not line up with any known temporal phenomenon. Burdened by a sense of adventure that Howard empathized with, the explorer, one Giles Ravensworth, pushed onwards into the abnormality and discovered a new pocket of space. They quickly marked the location and reported back to explain their findings, and their company dispatched scientists to the coordinates, to the great annoyance of many companies.
They immediately discovered how dangerous the sector was, losing at least two scientific vessels within weeks of entering the Journey Sector. Rumor began spreading like wildfire, and soon more companies and bold individuals were attempting to make their way inside too, risking it all on the promise of new fortune, hoping to not miss out on the rush to claim territory after the last Frontier expansion decree.
It wasn’t until the first ships returned from the Journey Sector, carrying a unique new mineral that eclipsed anything the Confederacy had ever manufactured in its defensive properties, that things kicked into overdrive. The moment the news broke that the Journey Sector held untold riches everyone wanted a piece.
The second book had Howard hanging on every word, “A history of Captain Halock, Confederacy Renegade.”
The Immortal Halock marks himself in history as the first person to ever successfully navigate through the Journey Sector, the most dangerous place in the galaxy, perhaps the universe itself. A man of unknown origin, who exploded onto the galactic stage after completing his voyage, leading a campaign of piracy against the Confederacy and her interests that lasted nearly twenty years. With every sector he sailed through with his crew, he destroyed oppressive Confederacy outposts and liberated citizens on their small colony worlds from their greedy masters. It is said while in the Journey Sector, he fought beasts of nightmare with one hand, seduced every sentient species he encountered, and did it all while giving the Confederacy the universal gesture to ‘suck it.’
It was widely speculated that the key to Halock’s impressive campaign lay within the heart of the Journey Sector itself, that there was simply no way a man of average means could single handedly be such a thorn in the side of the most powerful government to have ever existed. It would of course be Halock himself, ever the flair for the dramatic, that would confirm these speculations.
A broadcast went out on all public frequencies, direct from the legend himself. He boldly looked into the camera and said the words they have ingrained themselves in a generation of rabble rousers and would be adventurers.
“The power to be free, to live as I have, lies at the end of the Journey Sector.” And with that, he entered the Journey Sector a second time, and disappeared from history. His whereabouts are unknown.”
“The power to be free…” Howard murmured. The final passage of the chapter was worming its way into the deepest parts of his mind, his imagination running wild. Already he could see himself, standing on the bridge of the ship, a coat flapping dramatically at his shoulders, a hat with a skull and crossbones, and himself boldly pointing toward the stars with a crew of loveable rogues, just like Halock himself. Yes! It would be just as he imagined as a child! The adventure he’d wanted to take for years now, he knew what it would be for!
He read the rest of the books he’d managed to acquire with a sort of feverish obsession. Before long it was already well past noon, and he could hear someone calling for him from the estate down the hill. Making sure to hide the books under his blanket, he scurried back down the grassy knoll, his passion reignited.