Inga sighed as the boy frowned at her. This argument was going nowhere, as it always did. They merely covered the same ground over and over again, never resolving anything. The boy's jaw was clenched in anger, with clenched fists at his side. Would she never be able to make him understand and accept his father's decisions?
She took a deep breath and attempted again, as she always did. "Your father believed in what he was doing." she said firmly.
Her son glared back. "He cared more about others than you or I!" he snapped out. As he had reached his teenage years his anger and bitterness had also grown.
Inga shook her head, her long brown hair streaked with grey now. "It's not that he didn't care about us. He just had so many other people to care about as well."
"We should have been more important!"
In her heart Inga agreed but she had also known Roj for exactly who and what he was. She sighed again and sat down while the boy continued to glare at her, not understanding how she could continue to defend the man who had abandoned her, and gone to another woman. Inga looked off into the distance for a moment.
"Regin," she began. "Your father was a good man. You must believe that. He had such a great capacity for caring that he couldn't just care about a small few. He was the only person to make a stand against the Federation in such a spectacular way.
Although a great deal of that was by chance, not design." She leant forward earnestly. "But he saw he could do something to try and stop the Federation tyranny. And he couldn't turn his back on that."
"He did when he came here!"
"He was wounded and still recovering. He was responsible for the defeat of the Andromedans. If he and the Liberator hadn't alerted us of the danger and held off the attack till reinforcements arrived, the Andromedans would have broken through. He is a hero."
"I don't care about heroes! He left us!" and boy spun round and stormed off.
"Regin!" Inga called after him, knowing he wouldn't return at that time.
She stared after him and sighed again before turning back to sit down. She felt tears prickle in her eyes, and blinked them away quickly. She was no simpering weakling to cry over nothing. Her harsh upbringing on X-bar assured that, and she had always remained positive, in control. There was no point in crying now, after everything was over and done with. It had all been finished more than 15 years ago.
But it wasn't really finished. She just had to look at her son to realise that. Ironic, that the man who millions of people revered as their saviour in the fight for freedom, was almost hated by his own son.
She picked up the dough she had begun before. The bread still needed to be made. The world doesn't just stop. Her strong hands began to knead the dough, her mind wandering back to the man she had loved.
Blake, Roj Blake, her cousin. Strong, gentle, kind, passionate. They had grown up together, learning about life, until things had changed. She had missed him when her father, Ushton, had been transported to the minimal security planet, X-bar. It was due to Blake's activities they were kept there. They were thankful that they hadn't been killed outright as other members of the family had been. Life had been extremely hard on X-bar, but they and the few others there had survived at least.
Then Travis had come and things had taken a new turn. She had been held captive by Travis, and she could admit that she had been scared, very scared. The crimmos had been frightening. Warped, almost faceless beings - barely human at all. She hadn't been sure she would live then. And it had all been just a ploy to get Blake. She hated to think that she was being used as bait. She had told them that it wouldn't work, that Blake wouldn't come, it had been many years since she had seen him. But he had. He had risked himself, his crew, his ship. For her.
He had saved them, saved them all because they were able to access the storage room in the tower which they hadn't been able to before. That enabled them to survive on X-bar at a much higher standard of living. Even when the Federation had arrived they had been left in peace. Not because the Federation felt sorry for them. They were simply too few to bother about, on a planet that had no other value to the Federation. The X-bar inhabitants had wisely stayed invisible during those few days - a case of out of sight, out of mind.
And it had worked. The Federation had left and they had begun a new life. X-bar became quite a nice place. Not exactly technologically advanced, but comfortable. It had been a good place to live.
Blake had returned to them there after the Andromedan War. He had been wounded and picked up by a hospital ship at some point. But he knew he would not be able to stay anonymous for long so he had sought a refuge. X-bar had been it. He had contacted a supply ship that visited and called Ushton, asking to stay until he was well.
She recalled helping him off the ship. He was weak, wounded quite badly, one side of his face an angry red scar that was puckering through lack of proper medical attention. It had not been tended well, but then, in the middle of a war injuries were rarely treated well. That was left till after.
Blake had been weary, not just in body, but also in soul. He had lost the will to fight, the rebellion was a thing from the past. He needed time and a place to recover fully, and X-bar was the perfect place for that. He soon recovered physically, except for the scarred face, she could do little about that. It bothered him at first, but she had berated him for thinking that it was so important. Especially to her.
Blake seemed to thrive in the quiet, physically demanding rural lifestyle they led. She and he had revived old times. Their prior encounter had left no time for that. And they had found they had grown closer. Firstly, as they had been when they were younger as children, but then as the adults they now were. Ushton had aged over those years, so had been glad to have an extra pair of hands around and had seemed quite happy with their partnership. Especially when their union produced a child. Blake had been thrilled with his son, and revelled in the idea of fatherhood.
However, this relaxed life had helped him to heal too well. More and more his conversations would turn to the rebellion, the Federation. And then they heard further reports of his ship, the Liberator. The names of his compatriots - Avon, Cally, Vila. There were soon other names listed on the Federation's most wanted as well - Dayna Mellanby and Del Tarrant. Inga hadn't known these two. Neither had Blake.
When they heard of the destruction of the Liberator, Inga had been astonished to see Blake cry. It seemed so strange. But the crew had survived. At least the names still went on. The destruction of his ship seemed to spur Blake's ideology, He took less and less interest in his life on X-bar. He listened constantly to information on the communicator about rebel reports, etc. And more and more he mentioned the lack of information about his past companion, Jenna.
Inga hadn't been blind to the way Jenna had looked at Blake, it was obvious to any woman. And when Blake had kissed Inga good-bye in front of Jenna, Inga knew that Jenna would have been happy to kill her. Yet Blake seemed to have been blind to her at that time. But perhaps he hadn't been so completely blind at all. Perhaps that was why his thoughts then turned to Jenna more and more.
Then two things happened. Blake made contact with some rebels on a planet far away that was hoping to rejoin the Federation - Guada Prime. Bounty hunters were there in force and Blake felt that this provided the perfect cover for him. After all, with his scarred face, he now certainly looked the part and he would no longer be so recognisable. That was the first thing. The second was a report that Jenna Stanis was operating in the area. As a smuggler, of course.
The two things combined were enough for Blake to tell Inga that he was leaving. Only for a time, he said. Probably he meant it as well. At least then. He said he wanted to establish a rebel base there on the planet of Guada Prime. In the guise of a bounty hunter, he had the chance to contact other rebels that the Federation were after. And Jenna was there.
He had tried to convince her, and possibly himself, that he was looking for Jenna for her contacts. But Inga knew it was more. Blake was a good man, but his fault was that he loved two women, Inga and Jenna. So he had kissed her and his son goodbye, promising to send for them once things were established and there was some security. He didn't want to risk either of them. And he had gone.
He had sent messages to her at first. Brief, cryptic and in a roundabout manner to prevent the Federation tracking them. Then the messages became fewer - merely saying his plan was working, slowly, but it was working. The last message had said he was about to make contact with Jenna. There had been no more messages after that.
Later the Federation had broadcasted that Blake and his band of rebels had been killed, even listing the names of his past compatriots - Avon and Vila. Inga found that a little strange. Why had they been there? How had they come to be there? Surely Blake would have mentioned to her that his old friends had joined him? Because of that, she had only half believed that report of their deaths. Even now, she didn't know for certain, but there had been no reports of rebel activity associated with Blake since then, so it did seem likely that he was dead. She still wondered about what had actually happened.
Now her son was growing older and questioning things also. He had questions that she had no answers for. And he hated his father. She placed the last of the dough in a pan and into the oven, wiping the sweat from her brow with flour covered hands. Perhaps he will understand sometime.