The info-station squawked and sputtered, making half her family jump.
“…blow for freedom,” said the low voice of someone. “our agents… (sizz) …victorious.”
Everyone was looking at everyone else. Sahra sat there with her mouth open and her hands pressed flat on the table. She’d never heard anything like this before. No-one was allowed to get up without Mama or current-Papa’s say-so. It was the rules.
“Tonight… (whreeee) …ore processing centre, killing… (dattledadattle) …oppressors including the vicious freak known as Eon. Celebrate, for tonight our…. (hiss) …struck at the heart of the Majestrix herself.”
“Someone turn that off,” said Mama.
“(swowr) …been known that the decadent… (zzwish) …entertained herself in base ways with the shape-shifter–”
Seventh-Papa stretched over and pulled a wire out. The info-station gave a final shriek and fell silent.
Chills played up and down her spine.
“What wuz that?” Sahra asked.
“(cough-spongebrain-cough),” managed Darvan. Then he smiled and said, “Excuse me. Gristle.”
Mama puckered her mouth at him, but did no more.
“Just a bunch of idiots tryin’ to change the natural order,” said Seventh-Papa. “Pay it no mind. All of you.”
“But he said they were the ones blowed up ore proc'ssing…”
“Butts are for smacking if some little girls don’t shut their mouths. We didn’t hear nothing about nothing. Understand?”
Sahra tried to think of a better way to protest that didn’t start with a ‘but’, and had to shut her mouth. “Yes’m,” she lied.
She watched the rest of her family eat while she filled up on water. Seventh-Papa knew something he wasn’t telling. Mama knew more. And she was scared. The elder sibs knew enough to be scared, too. Except Darvan.
Coming soon to all good eBookstores everywhere. Hevun’s Rebel.
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