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“None?”

“They’re still waiting for the trial.” A visible shudder travelled through Cal’s body as he fished out a slimy clump of black seaweed.

“Any mail from the family?”

“Uncle Trewan answered today. Said they won’t meddle in Eiden’s internal affairs.”

Uros’ posture tightened. “So, same response as all the others.”

“I’m really trying.” Cal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe Aunt Ormi will respond soon. I’ll contact the cousins now, too. And the galactic human rights committees. Surely, we’ll find some help.”

Roy frowned, closing the lid over the barrel. Keeping the meeting with the Emperor secret had been Cal’s choice, one he didn’t particularly agree with. But being an only child, he hesitated to offer his perspective. Maybe he’d be the same, had he had a younger sibling—always oscillating between treating them like the adult they’d become and the child they had been just a few months ago.

After a pause, Uros rasped, “Right.” He sniffled, his nose twitching. “I know, Cally. I’m sorry.”

“Dude. You’re fine.” Cal bumped his shoulder into his brother’s.

Uros chuckled, his face lighting up.

Roy cleared his throat and stepped forward. “You’ve been working really hard, Uros. I appreciate it, but perhaps you would like a day off?”

“Um.” Uros’ hand shot up to his neck, rubbing the short hair on the nape. “Yeah. Maybe. You said you had a bike?”

“Do you know how to drive a hoverbike?”

“I used to have one back home.” Uros shifted. “Um, maybe I could drive to see Sally?”

The name piqued Cal’s interest. “You’ve been hitting it off, huh?”

“Not really. Maybe.” With his face flushed, Uros’ cerulean freckles stood out.

Cal’s eyes narrowed; realisation slowly dawned. He giggled and moved to the drying rack, adjusting the perfectly spaced strands of seaweed.

Cal’s three-week checkup had left Roy with a lingering sense of dread. More scans, more concerned doctors murmured words Roy couldn’t understand—but they reached a unanimous conclusion. While the right ear had healed and accepted the implant perfectly, the left side was atrophied and too damaged for a device to latch on.

That night, he lay in his bed, with Cal curled on his left side, the deaf ear pressed into the pillow.

“Are you okay?” Roy whispered, prepared to hug him tightly, as if that could solve anything.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean—” Roy bit into his lip. This was a territory where a misplaced word could shatter the illusion of happiness he’d been building inside his old, foolish head.

“I would have preferred to hear on both sides.” Cal’s fingers traced Roy’s cheekbone. “But this is fine, too.”

“Maybe we could find another doctor?”

“I don’t want a charlatan who’ll take a fortune, only to leave me in constant pain.” Cal’s resolution was unmistakable. With his forefinger curled against the silver chain on Roy’s neck, his thumb traced Roy’s old military tag. “Didn’t you use to wear two?”

“Changing the topic?” Roy huffed, only to be silenced by a kiss, teeth scraping his lips.

“Yes. Now tell me about the next adventure.” With his forefinger curled against the silver chain holding Roy’s old military tag, Cal smiled against Roy’s mouth. “Please.”

The next trip’s destination, Meliora, was famous for producing honey and its derivatives, supplying the galaxy’s most renowned restaurants with the golden liquid. While Roy doubted combining the sweetness with his seaweed products, he thought he could at least sell jars of honey. After all, the demand seemed to be rising each day at the Wedunia market.

With the planet’s orange glow already visible in the viewport, Cal keyed in the connection request to the space traffic management tower. The operator responded instantly.

“Meliora Capital speaking. Please identify yourself.”