Sofia is nine years old and she is in trouble. She is sitting in her teacher's office along with her classmate, Marcus. She glances at the other child. Marcus' bottom lip is swollen and bleeding while Sofia has a bruise beneath her left eye which is beginning to ripen nicely. The boy wipes the back of his hand across his nose and immediately starts whimpering and crying. He must have momentarily forgotten about the right hook to the nose Sofia had dealt him just before their fight was broken up. Sofia smirks. Crying is not exactly against the rules but it is discouraged. It's a waste of water.
Sofia's self satisfaction does not last long. Both her parents arrive and they are clearly not happy. There is a man she does not recognise with them. From the way he is glaring at Mama and Papa, she assumes he is Marcus' father.
Mama nods respectfully to the teacher before turning to her daughter. "Ms. Sadler. Fighting, Sofie?" Disappointment is etched on her face. "Really? What's got into you?"
Sofia shrugs and lets her gaze drop to the floor. She cradles her right hand in her left. She did not realise throwing a punch could hurt that much. "He was being mean. I got mad."
Ms. Sadler explains that while Marcus should not have provoked her, violence towards a fellow Awoken is never acceptable. They are trying to build something here so cooperation is vital. Fighting is not to be tolerated. The boy's father nods and harumphs in agreement with the lecture. Mama continues to look disappointed. Papa folds his arms and his face takes on that sceptical expression it always does when the subject of They Who Make the Rules comes up.
"What did he say?" Papa asks quietly.
"I'm sorry?" Ms. Sadler looks confused.
"What did the lad say to set Sofie off like that?"
"Does it matter?" Retorts Marcus' father, angry and incredulous. "Your daughter nearly broke my son's nose, who cares what he said?"
"It matters. I care." Papa does not raise his voice but he is all the more intimidating for it. "Well?"
Ms. Sadler fields the question as tactfully as she possibly can, "He uh, made some disparaging remarks about you and your wife's political views."
Papa raises an eyebrow. "Politics. They were fighting over politics?"
"He called you traitors!" Sofia interjects, scowling at Marcus.
"Well. That's a strong word." Papa turns to face the boy's father. "I wonder where he picked it up?"
"As I said," Ms. Sadler interrupts, "There was fault on both sides here, I'm sure we can patch things up and move on." She plasters a smile on her face. "Hm?" Despite her best efforts at diplomacy, she obviously feels the situation getting away from her. Mama and Papa are both staring down the other man. They look like patching things up is the furthest thing from their minds. Ms. Sadler hastily brings proceedings to a close, extracting grudging apologies from the children and assurances that this will not happen again from the adults.
After they file out of the office, Marcus' father snarls at Papa, "You know, The Reef would probably be better off if people like you did leave."
Mama rounds on him, "People like him?" She points at Papa, "He risks his life every other day to keep people like you safe! What great deeds have you done for The Reef lately?"
"You're dissidents, we don't need that kind of-"
"Mara Sov doesn't need people who have the gall to think for themselves, I know."
Papa lays a gentle hand on Mama's arm. "Leave it."
"No, he doesn't get to talk to you like that!"
Papa flickers his gaze to Sofia, then back to Mama. "Please."
Mama's expression immediately softens when she sees her daughter. Sofia has shrunk back, clinging to Papa's arm. His cloak has draped itself around her and she considers hiding her face in it. Her mouth is dry and she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. She cannot shake the feeling that her parents might be in more trouble than she is. She does her best not to cry.
"Just keep that little hooligan away from my son," the man snaps before stalking away.
"Likewise," Mama hisses. Sofia has never seen her so angry. Mama hunkers down to Sofia's level and coaxes her out of her sanctuary under Papa's cloak. "Let me have a look at you." Mama tenderly frames Sofia's face in her hands and studies the bruise on her cheek. "Yes, you're going to have quite the shiner by tomorrow morning." She fixes her amber eyes on Sofia's. "You steer clear of that boy. And if anyone else has a go at you, just walk away, you hear me?"
Sofia nods vigorously and swallows down another lump in her throat. "I'm sorry," she says in a tiny voice. "Have I got you and Papa in trouble?"
"No," Mama pulls her into a hug. "No, sweetheart. Don't take any notice of what that man said, that's nothing to do with you."
"What's a dissident?" Sofia enunciates each unfamiliar syllable carefully.
"It's…" Mama pulls back and looks to Papa as if for reassurance. Papa hangs his head. "It's someone who disagrees with the people in charge. And isn't afraid to say so."
"Oh." Sofia looks up her father. His brow is furrowed and his shoulders hunched.
"It's not an entirely inaccurate description. I'm sorry, Starshine, we never meant for any of this to hurt you. That's the last thing we wanted."
"It's okay. I promise I won't hit anyone else." Sofia positions herself between her parents. "Can we go home now?" Papa nods and takes her hand in his. Sofia winces and immediately pulls back. "Ow!"
"What's wrong?"
"My hand hurts," Sofia replies, then adds in an ashamed mumble, "from when I hit Marcus."
"I'll have to teach you how to throw a punch properly, one day."
"Oh, don't encourage her!" Mama exclaims, aghast.
"Hey, you were ready to take a swing at that guy," counters Papa.
"Yes, but I didn't."
"I'm not saying she should start fights, I just don't think it would hurt if she knew how to finish them."
Mama sighs. "That's it. You're both grounded."
Sofia giggles, "You can't ground Papa."
Mama smirks and taps the 'Flight Engineer' insignia on her jumpsuit. "Oh yes I can."
... ... ... ... ... ...
Sofia sleeps fitfully that night. There's a knot in the pit of her stomach that refuses to untie, despite her parents' assurances that everything will be all right. She rolls over in an attempt to get comfortable and presses her bruised cheek against her hand. The pain jolts her fully awake. She can hear Mama and Papa talking in the next room so she assumes it cannot be too late. She checks her chronometer which shows it is gone zero-two hundred hours. Why are they still up? She lies still and just listens for a while. She cannot make out what they are saying but they sound upset. The knot tightens anew. Is this because of her? Are they arguing because of what she did? She slips out of bed and tip-toes to the door. She opens it a crack.
From this angle, she can see Papa. He's sitting down, resting his elbows on the table which serves as a dining table, kitchen surface and occasionally, a make-shift work-bench for Mama. He's rubbing his forehead, as though he is trying to massage away his worry lines, but only succeeds in creating new ones. Sofia can't see Mama but she can hear her.
"I understand what you're saying. I don't like this any more than you do but it's dangerous."
"It's dangerous here!" Papa extends his hands, palms up, in an entreating gesture. "We live on wrecked ships. Debris. Stations cobbled together from salvage-"
"The mining operations and foundries are up and running now, it'll get better." Mama paces into view, gnawing on a thumbnail in between speaking.
"When?" Papa exhales sharply, something between laughter and a sigh. "We've had so many near misses, so many near disasters with the engineering in this place. You understand that better than anyone."
"And the Fallen are heading to Earth, more every day. You understand that better than anyone. They don't know we're here."
"You know what, you're right. We are safe from the Fallen here. We have weapons, tech, ships and as you say, a newly-minted mines and foundries and what do we do with them? Nothing. Do we help the people left on Earth? No, we hide behind this nebula. It's wrong."
Mama runs her hand through her hair and paces out of view. "That's very noble, but we have a daughter to think about."
Papa's face falls. He's quiet for a time. It can only be a few seconds but it feels like an an eternity in the ensuing silence. When he finally does speak, Sofia has to strain to hear him. "What is that supposed to mean?" Another silence. "She is all I think about."
"I'm sorry." Mama is back in view. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"We weren't meant to live like this. Do you want our daughter growing up in darkness, behind bulkheads? Breathing nothing but recycled air? Never seeing the sun?"
"I know you want what's best for Sofie, I know that." Mama slips into Papa's lap and wraps her arms around his shoulders. "But how can you be sure things are any better on Earth?"
"They have to be. There has to be something better than this."
