The Human left the cell, probably to speak with a commanding officer about Fletcher’s concession, while the half-[Nix] man hovered nearby. He stared at Fletcher for a few moments, and then he too walked out of the cell, closing the door behind him.

  Fletcher put his head against his knees and closed his eyes, trying to think of something besides the visions of his father’s death. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and the [Nix] reentered. He walked up to Fletcher and held out a water bottle.

  “You should drink something,” the man said.

  Glancing at the bottle, Fletcher became aware of how parched his throat was, but his stomach curdled at the thought of drinking it.

  The Mixhuman pried one of his hands from where it clutched his knees and forced it closed around the open bottle. “You’re severely dehydrated. Drink.”

  Fletcher decided to comply, if only out of fear that refusing would result in having the water forcibly poured down his throat. After a single sip, he realized how desperately he needed the water, but the [Nix] placed a steadying hand on the bottle, keeping him from downing it immediately.

  After he’d slowly consumed about half the bottle, the woman came into the cell.

  “She’s ready for him,” she said.

  The [Nix] took the water bottle back and gestured to Fletcher’s shoes which sat on the floor near the cot. “If you want to put those on, we’ll take you to see General Anders.”

  Fletcher smiled, appreciative of the kindness. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d assumed there were cameras in the cell, and based on this treatment, it was likely someone had seen his outburst the night before. Some part of him was embarrassed about it, but the majority was focused on getting out of the current purgatory he sat in so he could forget the nightmare of watching his father die eight times over in a dream world that felt as real as reality itself.

  He got his shoes on, and then the two escorted from his cell. No handcuffs this time around which was a surprise. As much as he wanted to appreciate the change, he was too wound up and worried. His thoughts were hung up on his father, wondering if Sebastian was safe or if the dream had in some way been prophetic. Fletcher really hoped that the nightmare was caused by his own insanity rather than some weird [Demanlic] thing that let him have dreams that foretold what was to come. As odd as it was to wish to be in the midst of a psychotic breakdown, it was better than believing there was a chance he would have to watch his father die a violent death.

  The two soldiers took him to the interrogation room where he’d originally spoken with his mother and she’d threatened to leave him in solitary for six months. That seemed like an entire lifetime ago after all the days spent alone in a cell with nothing but his thoughts for company.

  Hazel was already sitting down at the table with a tray of food in front of her. The soldiers released Fletcher at the door, and the woman motioned to the chair across from the general.

  Fletcher walked over and sat down as the two left, giving the room to him and his mom.

  “Eat.” Hazel pushed the tray of food before him. “I managed to get something a little more palatable than the usual prison fare for you.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Fletcher slid it to the side, the anxiety he’d had since the dream still making him far too nauseous to even think about eating solid food. The water he drank earlier was already feeling a bit uncomfortable.

  “I won’t have this conversation with you until you do, Fletcher.”

  “What do you care?” he asked.

  “I need to know that I’m speaking to the clear-headed version of you, not some hunger-driven fool. Whatever decisions you reach with me now, you don’t get to turn around and change your mind in a couple of days once you get a taste of a little freedom. This is serious, and I expect you to treat it as such,” Hazel said.

  Fletcher sighed and pulled the tray in front again. The food was more appealing than what he’d been served for the past couple of weeks. The main dish was a heap of roast pork slathered in aromaful gravy with a side of seared vegetables. A dinner roll and a large bottle of water completed the set up.

  Picking up a fork, he prodded the meat, trying to convince himself that he had an appetite buried somewhere inside.

  “I’ll give you a little privacy. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” Hazel stood up.

  Fletcher looked up at her as fear jolted through his body. “No. Stay. Please.” Now that he had companionship, he couldn’t imagine sitting alone again. Hazel’s presence was better than nothing. A lot better.

  With pursed lips, his mother nodded and sat back down. Her brown, blue, and gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing her sharp facial features.

  He ate the meal, finding it easy to stomach after the first few bites. His mother didn’t say anything, and he didn’t bother trying to start a conversation. As awkward as it was to eat in silence while someone else watched, it was preferable to the alternative of eating alone while trying to chase away the horrific memories from two nights prior.

  Fletcher finished his food fairly quickly, including the water. He hated to admit it, but a full stomach did help him feel better and more focused. Focused enough, even, to wonder if giving in to her was a mistake. Maybe he’d accidentally rushed this afterall.

  “Set the tray on the ground,” Hazel said once he placed the utensils back on it.

  He did as she said, and then quickly cut her off as she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Is Dad okay?” he asked.

  “He’s fine.”

  “Like he’s actually fine, or you’re just saying that because you don’t want me to be distracted during this conversation?” Fletcher placed his hands on the table as his right leg bounced up and down in worry.

  A glimpse of surprise and confusion flashed across Hazel’s face before she regained her cold composure. “I assure you, Sebastian is safe. Why?”

  “Just curious,” Fletcher lied.

  “Worried I punished him for his unauthorized trip to see you?” Hazel raised her eyebrows.

  He said nothing, keeping his face as unperturbed as he could.

  She sighed and shook her head. “You told the guards you were giving up. Does this mean we’re done playing this silly little game?”

  Fletcher scoffed. “I don’t think I’d call locking someone up in solitary confinement for two weeks a game.”

  “And once again you’ve managed to waste a significant portion of my time. I wish I could say I was surprised.” Hazel pushed her chair out from the table and stood up. “But this is the last time. I gave you one more chance, Fletcher, and you blew it rather quickly. If you think you’re having fun now, let’s see how you feel six months from now. Oh, and don’t think your father will get away with any more of those secret visits either.”

  Fletcher knew she was being serious, and he recognized that if he wasn’t already there, he would most definitely go insane if he stayed in that cell for another six days, much less for six straight months. “No, wait, Mom. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. I’m ready to talk this through.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His mother shook her head again. “I’m not here to talk with you. I’m here to hear you agree to my terms.”

  “Terms? What, I’m negotiating my own prison release now?” Fletcher asked.

  Hazel cocked an eyebrow.

  He swallowed the words he wanted to say. “Sorry.”

  His mother stared down at him, waiting for more.

  Fletcher bit his lip and then exhaled heavily. There was no way around it now. “And I wanted to tell you that… I was wrong about the Mixed. Getting to talk with Dad and then having a lot of time to think made me realize that what you guys do isn’t terrorism, and I was wrong to call it that.” He didn’t know that he entirely believed it, but he had to admit it or else go back to the cell where he was certain another nightmare was waiting for him.

  “And?”

  “And what? I gave you what you wanted. I just admitted I was wrong and you were right,” he said.

  Hazel’s cold gaze pierced his soul. “I think you’re forgetting how you ended up here in the first place. Our argument didn’t start out with your idiotic terrorism claim.”

  Fletcher broke eye contact. “I’m not a soldier, Mom. I never have been, and I never will be.”

  “I suspect you’ll feel differently in six months.” She put a hand to her ear. “I’m finished—”

  “Wait,” Fletcher stood up and grabbed her arm, terrified at the thought of having to ever go back to the cell and endure more nightmares. “At least let me explain my position better.”

  If looks could kill, his mother might have murdered him on the spot, but as it was, she canceled her order and lowered her hand. “You have thirty seconds.”

  “I’m not committed to the cause. I barely know anything about the Mixed, and whether or not you like it, I do happen to care about Unhumans, quite a bit actually,” Fletcher began.

  “You’re not doing a good job,” Hazel warned him.

  He held back the insults he wanted to throw to focus on making his point more clear. “No one wants to trust their life to a guy who’s only half in. It’s not fair to the other soldiers in your army to make them serve next to someone who doesn’t even support their cause. That’s a good way to endanger my life and theirs, thus risking good soldiers, all in trying to teach me a lesson.”

  Hazel’s gaze softened, or Fletcher told himself it did as he continued on.

  “I think you know that it’s poor practice to force me to serve in the military of a government and people I’m not dedicated to. All that’s going to do is teach me to hate the Mixed and make it more likely I desert or some other stupid thing that will probably get me killed.”

  His mother stared at him for a moment, and Fletcher wondered if he’d just signed his own death warrant with that little speech. Even so, he wouldn’t go out and fight for these people, not when he knew so little about them and was already against waging war to solve problems.

  Hazel half-smiled. “Maybe you did learn something out in the colonies after all.”

  “You mean… you won’t force me to join the military?” Fletcher couldn’t believe it.

  She laughed. “Deities, no. That’s not what I’m saying. Every Mixed citizen is required to serve in the military for at least five years. That’s a law not even I have the power to circumvent.”

  “But…”

  “The conscription law mandates that by age twenty-five, every natural born Mixed citizen must be sworn into the military, but for those who join later—the Hexed we rescue and their families—the law mandates that they have a year from their citizenship swearing to join up.”

  “You make everyone serve? What if the person’s like eighty years old?” he asked.

  His mother rolled her eyes. “There are exceptions to the conscription law for the elderly or those who are parents. You are neither so I don’t feel the need to get into those details.”

  “Right. Just curious.” Fletcher held his hands up in apologies.

  “Technically, you’re a natural born citizen,” Hazel said. “But given the circumstances of how you were raised, the law will treat you as a sworn citizen instead.”

  “So I’d have a year from my citizenship swearing… Which happened when?”

  “Today. In two hours,” she said.

  “T-today?” Fletcher stared at her. This was news to him.

  “You just admitted you were wrong about the Mixed. Changing your mind already?” Hazel asked.

  “No,” he said quickly. If he left her the opening, he didn’t doubt that she would take the chance to throw him back into solitary confinement.

  “Good answer. Unless you had anything you left behind in your cell, I think we should be going. I do have more important things to be doing right now, and your father would like to see you beforehand. He can brief you on what to expect.”

  “Okay.” Fletcher was eager to see his dad but unhappy that he was being thrown into accepting full citizenship so fast. Then again, his only other choice was solitary confinement, and that hadn’t gone so well last time.

  He followed Hazel out of the room and then through a series of corridors to an elevator. Two guards joined them on their walk, trailing just a step behind the general. A short time later, they exited on a floor he thought was familiar.

  Hazel pointed to the left. “Go that way, take the first right then the second left. It’ll be the third door on the left. I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

  She didn’t even wait for him to confirm he got the directions before walking away with her entourage. Fletcher silently cursed her and then went the way she’d indicated. The directions were accurate, and within a couple of minutes he was knocking on the door to his father’s office.

  The door slid open to reveal a Mixhuman man with pitch black eyes that could have been from being a [Ghoul], [Shade], or [Orc]. Sebastian sat behind a desk loaded with paperwork in the mid-sized office which looked to be in the process of being packed up. Or maybe unpacked. It was hard to tell with the mess.

  His father looked up at him with a smile. “Fletcher, good to see you.” He then looked at the soldier who stood at the door. “Give us the room, Lieutenant. We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss the rest of it.”

  The man nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He walked out, and Fletcher walked in, the door sliding shut behind him as his father stood up and came to greet him with a hug.

  Fletcher put his arms around his father, but tears stung his eyes as the motion brought back all the bitter memories of holding his dying father during the nightmare. Anxiety wove itself through his body, and his hands started to shake as he tried to not remember his dad’s screams.

  “Hey, are you alright?” His father pushed away and grabbed his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Fletcher?”

  He shook his head. “I-I don’t want to talk about it, Dad. It’s just good to see you.”

  Sebastian smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. If you change your mind and want to talk about things, I’m here.”

  Fletcher shook his head again. “No. Really, I don’t.”

  “Alright. I won’t pry. Besides, we have a lot to go over before the swearing in today.” His dad gestured to the desk. “Forgive the mess. I’m still sorting through things and figuring this whole ‘colonel’ thing out.”

  They both took seats by the desk, and his dad went over expectations for the ceremony including what the citizenship oath was as well as dress code, conduct, and more. Fletcher asked him a lot of questions, and his father was patient in answering them all, marking a nice change from his mother who always seemed annoyed or angry at him for anything he said.

  The two hours flew by and soon Fletcher was in his father’s quarters changing into a borrowed suit for the occasion. The more he thought about what was coming, the more nervous he became.

  “This will be good, Fletcher. You have nothing to worry about,” his dad assured him as they started the walk to the room where the ceremony would be held. His father wore his formal military uniform.

  They didn’t talk much on the walk since Fletcher was busy rehearsing things in his head to make sure he didn’t screw anything up. When they arrived at the room, he found Nora and his mother already there, both in the same type of formal uniforms as his dad. There was a Mixed Human official wearing a traditional suit like him, and then two other soldiers dressed in formal gear who stood as an honor guard. On the back wall was the Mixed flag, a black outline of the planet with a jagged line through it to represent the Breach all on a white background. Underneath the flag, in large lettering, was the Mixed motto, “FREEDOM FOR ALL.”

  “Mr. Anders, if you’re ready,” the official said, holding a Bible and book of laws out.

  Fletcher nodded and placed his left hand on the book stack and raised his right hand up.

  “Repeat me after me. ‘I, Fletcher Sebastian Anders…” the official began.

  “I, Fletcher Sebastian Anders…” Fletcher said. He risked a brief glance at his family who were all sitting together nearby. Doing this meant he was finally one of them, making the Anders family whole for the first time in over two decades. Only the deities knew how long the reunion would last this time around.