scum-shepherd.”
Dav sniffs. “Zowie, Webb, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
Glen just stares out over the table, silent as a judge.
“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’ll let you have it. You betrayed this family the moment you went out there and you became a rebel-lover. Joining the star-damned terrorists like they’re some sort of freedom fighters instead of…instead of the criminals that they are!”
Dav lets his fork and knife clatter against the plate and table. “They’re not terrorists. They started out as an alliance of resistance, but now they’re a legitimate government, Webb. They’re the real deal.” He dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “The Empire’s days are done.”
Suddenly Webb stands up. His chair is knocked backward. “You watch your mouth. That’s treachery, what you just said.”
“The word is
treason,
” Dav says, staying in his seat. “And why’s your nose so far up the Empire’s can, anyway? You failed out of the Academy. They beat your hide senseless day in and day out.”
Webb puffs out his chest. “Made me a better man.”
“Made you a belligerent jerk.”
“Why, you slime-slick no-good-brother—” And with that, Webb launches himself across the table. But he’s half drunk on koja-rum and Dav is sober as the noontime sky and so he steps handily out of the way as Webb crashes into the empty chair and smashes against the wall.
But drunk is still dangerous, and his arms flail out against Dav and the two go down, punching and kicking and calling each other all sorts of names. That is, until Glen clears his throat, picks up a bowl of greens, and wings it against the wall hard as he can. It bangs and clatters. Salad leaves splatter against the wall and ceiling.
The two brothers poke their heads up like whistle-pigs.
“Both of you, siddown,” Glen says, leaning back in his chair. “Sit.”
The two brothers do as their father commands.
“Pop, he started it,” Dav says.
Webb interjects: “Pop, don’t listen to this
treason
monkey—”
“Shut up. Both of you! You two are in dire need of a lesson. I’m an old man. Had the two of you later than I would’ve liked. Figured myself a single man, a simple farmer, until your mother came along—may all the stars welcome her soul.” He holds his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “So I’ve seen a thing or two.”
Under his breath, Webb mutters in a mocking tone:
“I had to crawl to the academy house on my hands and knees through mud and briar and fell-bears ate off both my legs—”
With his knife, Glen gestures: “Boy, you best clip that line of blabber unless you want me to tan your hide with a dry popper-stalk.”
“Sorry, Pop,” Webb mopes.
“Now, listen. What’s come before will come back around again. Republic was the way of the world before, and it’ll be the way again. And for a time everyone will cheer them on, and everything will be cozy-dosie, but there will come a time when things go sour and someone decides they got a better way of doing things. And the New Republic or the New-New Republic or the Republic We Got This Week will clamp down hard and then those people with the so-called better way will become the brave rebel alliance and the Republic will become the enemy and the wheel will turn once more.” He rubs his eyes. “I’m old enough to remember when the Republic shot itself right in the knee. It wasn’t taken over by the Empire. It
became
the Empire slowly, surely, not overnight but over years and decades. Fruit always tastes nice when it’s ripe. But it can’t stay like that. Every nice piece of fruit will rot on the branch if it hangs there long enough. You remember that.”
“Pop,” Dav says. “It won’t be like that this time.”
“He’s chosen his side,” Webb says. “And I’ve chosen mine.”
“And that’s the damn problem!” Glenn says, pounding the table. “Both of you, picking sides. Side you
should
pick is your family. No matter what. Above
Dav sniffs. “Zowie, Webb, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
Glen just stares out over the table, silent as a judge.
“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’ll let you have it. You betrayed this family the moment you went out there and you became a rebel-lover. Joining the star-damned terrorists like they’re some sort of freedom fighters instead of…instead of the criminals that they are!”
Dav lets his fork and knife clatter against the plate and table. “They’re not terrorists. They started out as an alliance of resistance, but now they’re a legitimate government, Webb. They’re the real deal.” He dabs at his mouth with a napkin. “The Empire’s days are done.”
Suddenly Webb stands up. His chair is knocked backward. “You watch your mouth. That’s treachery, what you just said.”
“The word is
treason,
” Dav says, staying in his seat. “And why’s your nose so far up the Empire’s can, anyway? You failed out of the Academy. They beat your hide senseless day in and day out.”
Webb puffs out his chest. “Made me a better man.”
“Made you a belligerent jerk.”
“Why, you slime-slick no-good-brother—” And with that, Webb launches himself across the table. But he’s half drunk on koja-rum and Dav is sober as the noontime sky and so he steps handily out of the way as Webb crashes into the empty chair and smashes against the wall.
But drunk is still dangerous, and his arms flail out against Dav and the two go down, punching and kicking and calling each other all sorts of names. That is, until Glen clears his throat, picks up a bowl of greens, and wings it against the wall hard as he can. It bangs and clatters. Salad leaves splatter against the wall and ceiling.
The two brothers poke their heads up like whistle-pigs.
“Both of you, siddown,” Glen says, leaning back in his chair. “Sit.”
The two brothers do as their father commands.
“Pop, he started it,” Dav says.
Webb interjects: “Pop, don’t listen to this
treason
monkey—”
“Shut up. Both of you! You two are in dire need of a lesson. I’m an old man. Had the two of you later than I would’ve liked. Figured myself a single man, a simple farmer, until your mother came along—may all the stars welcome her soul.” He holds his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “So I’ve seen a thing or two.”
Under his breath, Webb mutters in a mocking tone:
“I had to crawl to the academy house on my hands and knees through mud and briar and fell-bears ate off both my legs—”
With his knife, Glen gestures: “Boy, you best clip that line of blabber unless you want me to tan your hide with a dry popper-stalk.”
“Sorry, Pop,” Webb mopes.
“Now, listen. What’s come before will come back around again. Republic was the way of the world before, and it’ll be the way again. And for a time everyone will cheer them on, and everything will be cozy-dosie, but there will come a time when things go sour and someone decides they got a better way of doing things. And the New Republic or the New-New Republic or the Republic We Got This Week will clamp down hard and then those people with the so-called better way will become the brave rebel alliance and the Republic will become the enemy and the wheel will turn once more.” He rubs his eyes. “I’m old enough to remember when the Republic shot itself right in the knee. It wasn’t taken over by the Empire. It
became
the Empire slowly, surely, not overnight but over years and decades. Fruit always tastes nice when it’s ripe. But it can’t stay like that. Every nice piece of fruit will rot on the branch if it hangs there long enough. You remember that.”
“Pop,” Dav says. “It won’t be like that this time.”
“He’s chosen his side,” Webb says. “And I’ve chosen mine.”
“And that’s the damn problem!” Glenn says, pounding the table. “Both of you, picking sides. Side you
should
pick is your family. No matter what. Above
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