-PHILLIP-

  Phillip leaned forward and pushed his speeder bike harder. The old machine protested, the engine spurting in an alarming manner. Phillip was forced to ease up a little. Going slower than he wanted was one thing, but it would be worse if the speeder gave up on him when he was so close to home.

  His heart pounded away in his chest.

  Please, please, he pleaded.

  He blinked away the tears that threatened to blur his vision.

  Please be alive.

  Brand rode a few paces in front of Phillip. Periodically, Phillip heard his father scream at his speeder to move faster, as if that would have any benefit. He had no doubt that there were tears in his father's eyes too.

  Please be alive.

  But what if they were?

  A nasty thought crept into Phillip's mind. What if they were alive? What if the dawn troopers hadn't killed them yet? What if the dawn troopers had simply incapacitated and captured his family?

  What would Phillip and his father do?

  Brand and Phillip were not warriors. Even with Brand’s rifles, they had no chance against dawn troopers. Their arrival would only prolong the inevitable. It might not even do that. The dawn troopers could kill them in an instant.

  Phillip felt the heavy weight of guilt settle on him. His mother and sisters were in trouble and these were the thoughts he was having. How pathetic. He shook his head and focused his attention on getting the speeder to move faster.

  Finally it appeared in the distance; a black dot that was their house. Brand screamed and pushed his speeder harder. His machine accelerated, but it began to rumble, and smoke emerged from the engine.

  Brand didn’t care.

  Phillip found himself falling behind.

  He should have pushed his speeder too, but fear held him back. However, it wasn't the fear of the machine blowing up.

  This was all his fault. No matter what they found, it would be his fault. It seemed the troopers were after anything connected to humans, and Phillip was the one that had brought the humans to his home. If his mother and sisters were dead, the final blame would rest on him.

  The house grew bigger as they approached. There was something off about its shape. Brand stopped abruptly and Phillip pulled in next to him. They were close enough now to see details.

  Oh no.

  A terrible sob broke through Brand's throat, and the tears flowed freely from Phillip's eyes. The house was torn to shreds. The porch was decimated, the stables were gone, and barely anything remained of the roof. Pieces of the wooden structure lay scattered all around.

  And there was something else. A few feet next to the house, at the center of a small crater, sat the familiar metallic ball. The troopers hadn’t left yet. Phillip couldn’t see any sign of them in the wreckage, but that was the only thing the ball still being present could mean.

  "They might still be alive," Brand whispered. "We need to go check."

  Phillip wanted to retort that there was no chance Mother and the girls survived. He wanted to point out that the dawn troopers were still around, and that they needed to be cautious, but one look at his father's face shut him up. Brand's face was set like a flint. He was going down there, no matter what.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  A figure appeared from behind the ship. Initially, Phillip's heart fluttered, but he looked closer at it and frowned. Those were his clothes, and he recognized the figure. It wasn’t one of the dawn troopers. It was the stranger.

  Ben Wilson saw them and lifted up his hand to wave. Hope bloomed inside Phillip's chest

  Could it be?

  "Let's go," Brand said.

  They rode to the house together. The closer they got, the more obvious it was that a terrible fight had indeed happened here, but it wasn't the slaughter they had imagined.

  They guided the speeders towards Ben Wilson but he redirected them to the back of the house with a wave of his hand.

  Phillip and his father obeyed, and that was when they saw them. They were alive. Phillip’s mother and sisters sat behind the wreckage of the house. Though they were alive, they were in a terrible state.

  Lalo had a deep gash on one cheek and one of her arms had been secured in a makeshift sling. Phillip's mother looked worse. Her right leg was shattered. Phillip could tell from the bruising and the awkward way she sat, combined with the blood-stained wound-dressing wrapped around the leg.

  Someone had attempted to make a makeshift splint for the leg and had been moderately successful. Kalo, thankfully, was relatively unharmed.

  The ladies gasped when they saw Phillip and Brand. Then they burst into tears. Brand leapt off his speeder and ran towards them. He enveloped his wife and daughters in a tight hug. He was crying now, large shoulders heaving as he did so.

  "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Phillip heard his father say. "I should have been around. I'm so sorry."

  The ladies didn't say anything. They just continued to cry, and clutched at Brand.

  Phillip slowly got off his speeder. They were alive. Thank goodness.

  He hung back and watched them. He felt strange, like he shouldn’t be there. He wanted to run to them like his father but his feet felt like lead.

  Not too far from his family, Phillip saw one of Ben Wilson's companions. It was the tattooed woman. She had called herself Amara. She was tending to the other human, who it seemed hadn't regained consciousness yet. Amara looked from Phillip to his family, then back again. She frowned and gestured at Phillip to get closer to his family.

  Phillip took a step forward.

  "Don't you dare!"

  Phillip’s mother lifted her head and their eyes met. There was pure malice in her eyes.

  "Don't you dare!" she repeated.

  She pushed her husband away and tried to get up.

  "Take it easy Mother," Lalo said. "Don't push yourself. You’re badly injured."

  Brand held his wife gently. "Listen to her, Yaan," he said.

  "No!" Phillip’s mother cried.

  She put her hand around Brand's neck and used him as leverage to stand, though it ended with Brand mostly lifting her.

  "No Brand! I have had enough. I am tired. We nearly died. Have you seen Lalo's arm? Have you seen her face?!"

  Lalo ducked her head in shame. She pulled Kalo closer to herself. The little girl was still sobbing uncontrollably.

  Their mother continued. "Kalo could have died! We all would have! And it's all because of him." She pointed an accusatory finger at Phillip.

  "It's him," she said. "I knew it. I always knew it." Tears flowed down her face. "I knew it from the beginning, Brand. I knew something was wrong with him. As soon as I gave birth to him. I told you he was wrong. Do you remember? I told the birthing maids, and I told you. He was wrong from the beginning."

  Brand didn't look his son in the face.

  Phillip’s mother’s words echoed in his mind. The world was beginning to feel very dark and cold. It was as if he were on display at some variety show, like the ones they put on in the big towns. Except there was no hero in this show. There was only the villain. And it was him. And he had just lost terribly.

  "I knew he was wrong," his mother said. "I don't know what mistake I made. Maybe I ate the wrong food. Maybe I didn't sleep enough. Maybe it's my fault he is broken. But that doesn't matter."

  She faced Phillip. The rage on her face was unmistakable. "I hate you," she said.

  The words slapped Phillip and sent his ears ringing. He felt cut to the bone.

  "I hate you," his mother repeated. "I hate everything about you. Get out. Get out of here and never come back. You're not even a disgrace. You're just a mistake. Go. Take your dear strangers and get out."

  She spat at him, nearly toppling over in the process. Brand caught her, then helped her slowly return to a sitting position.

  Phillip was dazed. Everything felt so far away.

  He repeated her words to himself. ‘I hate you.’

  The words created wounds in his heart. He had no way to describe the searing pain he felt in his chest. She was right. He was a mistake. It was his fault.

  A wail threatened to tear through his throat. Phillip could feel it building inside of him but for some reason it wouldn't come out.

  No one spoke up for him.

  His father focused on his mother. He didn't look at Phillip again. Lalo did glance his way, but her look was one of pity, and there seemed to be some disgust mixed inside.

  And Kalo, dear Kalo. She had been clutching her mother's skirts and quivering since Phillip arrived. She had not looked up once. She was probably too afraid of what she would see.

  "My fault," Phillip repeated. "It's all my fault."