Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine by Jeanne G'Fellers

they walked to the windows every few minutes, drawing back the drapes to look down the hill toward the sea. Talana repeatedly asked when her father would return. Her mother would say ‘soon’ and leave it at that.
    “Talana’s father was a fisherman and sometimes gone for days at a time. He always returned with something for Talana, usually a pretty shell or some other trinket. But this time, because of the Feast, he had promised her a special toy.
    “The storm grew angrier and angrier.”
    “What about the environmental controls?” Brandoff asked
    “This was before the Autlach had stable weather control.” Bane wheezed heavily. “If you keep interrupting me I’ll be too spent to finish.”
    “Go on then.” Brandoff stacked the folded linens at her feet.
    “The windows rattled and the wind pulled at the roof. Talana’s mother was in tears with worry.”
    “Typical Aut bitch, crying at everything.”
    After a glare, Bane continued. “Finally, a faint knock sounded on the door. Talana flew to open it and there stood her father. He was soaking wet, his clothes covered with mud. His boots left puddles as he dragged himself to the fire. Talana’s mother wrapped a blanket ’round him and stoked the flames. After some time, he told them what had happened. His ship had been caught outside the docks when the storm blew up. It was impossible to navigate around the barrier rocks in the heavy seas, so they forced the ship to the far side of the island and into the coastal caverns. He had walked across the island in the storm to reach his home. On his way, he had gotten turned about and wandered for hours in the forest.
    “Talana’s father called her over and told her he had lost the toy in the storm. He held her close and she could feel his warmth and caring. Suddenly, the toy wasn’t important. She kissed her father’s cheek, hugged him close, and told him his being there was the most special gift he could ever give.”
    “A children’s story?” Brandoff bristled a little. “You waste my time with a fucking children’s story?”
    “A teaching tale, nothing more.” Bane’s breathing had become labored. “No insult was intended. I only did as you said.”
    “So you did.” She took the stew plate from the bedside tray and set it in his lap. “Eat something. I can’t have my only entertainment kicking off yet.”
    “Can’t,” he whispered. “Too tired.”
    “Must I feed you like an infant, old fool?” Brandoff snatched the plate and spooned a bite into his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. I’m feeling generous for some reason.” She waited while he struggled to swallow then shoved another at him. “Hurry up. I’m only giving broth. There’s nothing to chew.”
    “No more.” Bane fairly mouthed the words. “Water.” Brandoff helped him take another drink then eased him back on the pillows.
    “The old man is making you soft.” Cance stood at the stair head. “Why bother? He’s dead when we leave here.” She took the stack of linens then looked back to where Bane’s wasting body was curled. “Why help him linger? Let him die.”
    “He occupies my time.”
    “Not now he doesn’t. I need you to complete the modifications on the plasma bows.”
    “They’re finished.”
    Cance smiled. “Perfect. Check the scan decoders. I’m fairly certain they’re synchronized, but you’re the expert. Double-check my calculations. And my bow is due a charge. Get it done.” Her twin’s attention adequately diverted, Cance disappeared down the stairs.
    “You have no intention of helping the Cause, do you?” whispered Bane from his pallet. “Why are you really here?”
    “Don’t worry your feeble head over it, old man. You’ll be dead by then. We don’t leave witnesses alive. Ever.” Brandoff opened one of the decoders and began tinkering with the internal settings.
    “I”—Bane winced as a seizure began to flame its way through his skeletal frame—“have children, grandchildren . .