Carol, Raynor's mother, had long known her son was returning. During quiet moments, she would stand by the doorway, gazing up at the dull, storm-hazed sky of Shiloh. Even though the blazing sun often threatened to scorch her pale green eyes, she kept looking.
Most of the farmland in Centerville had already been abandoned. The war had brought economic depression, population decline, and fuel shortages—key factors that led to soil erosion and the steady expansion of the desert.
Though she was briefly startled by the fierce-looking Tychus Findlay, Carol didn't say much. She simply smiled and invited Augustus and the others into the front room of the domed house. The soldiers noticed that despite suffering from hunger and poverty, this gentle and beautiful Shiloh woman still kept her home spotless and meticulously organized.
The small house, typical of Shiloh colonists, was built from metal and granite. The brown walls bore traces of beautiful spiral patterns and even embedded fossils of local prehistoric vertebrates.
In the front room stood a modest rectangular oak dining table with several chairs. Wooden furniture like this was incredibly expensive on Shiloh, where vegetation and forests were scarce—nearly as valuable as precious metals. A red carpet stretched between the table and a Koprulu Sector star map hanging on the wall, handwoven by the lady of the house herself.
As Carol poured tea for the guests, Raynor noticed that much of the furniture was gone. His father's favorite Chasala sunwood music box had vanished, along with many other familiar pieces that seemed to have been erased by time.
"Where's Dad?" Raynor asked as he helped his mother pour the tea.
"He's still working at the farm—on his way back now."
"Mrs. Raynor, I'm Second Lieutenant Augustus Mengsk, Jim's commanding officer," Augustus introduced himself, then gestured toward the others. "These are Jim's comrades from the same unit. I'm not sure if he's mentioned it, but he's now a corporal and squad leader."
"We're very proud of him, Lieutenant," Carol said as she handed Augustus a cup of cooled red tea. On Shiloh, where the heat was unbearable most of the year, this was a staple drink for farmers and laborers.
"Please, take a seat, gentlemen. Oh—and a lovely lady as well," she added.
"Mom, why didn't you use the money I sent to buy some food?" Raynor asked, returning the thermos of iced tea to the fridge. "And did Dad really sell the music box?"
"After you left, the government kept raising taxes month by month. The farm's output plummeted due to a shortage of genetically modified seeds and fuel for the agricultural drones. Even so, Shiloh was still forced to contribute food to the government as tax—as one of the sector's primary agricultural worlds—to support the frontline troops."
"Bullshit. Someone's definitely pocketing those supplies." Harnack, dressed in civilian clothes—a black jacket and ragged dark blue jeans—grumbled. He had shaved his head into a mohawk before leaving the barracks.
That vivid crest of deep red hair, sticking straight up from his otherwise bare scalp, looked just like a rooster's comb.
"Shut up, Hank," Augustus muttered.
"At first, we used the money you sent to pay off some debts," Carol said, glancing briefly at Harnack before turning her attention back to her son. "But the later amounts—there's no way someone of your rank and years of service could've earned that. We don't know where it came from, and you never told us. Your father and I agreed—we shouldn't touch money with an unclear origin."
"We've been really worried about you, sweetheart. If you got that money through crime—or some other means we don't understand—then we absolutely can't use it."
Raynor was at a loss for words. He didn't believe taking spoils of war counted as a crime. Pocketing wealth that would otherwise end up in the hands of the elite didn't weigh on his conscience. But his parents didn't know that.
"I think... there might be a misunderstanding here," Augustus said, turning to Carol. "Ma'am, you don't need to worry—the money didn't come from anything shady. Jim earned it—putting his life on the line out there on the battlefield."
"My soldiers received generous rewards for their repeated victories and were granted the right to personally handle any spoils of war. Jim earned everything he received. I was aware of the Raynor family's difficulties, so I gave him a discretionary bonus. He didn't explain it to you because of the military's confidentiality regulations."
"Is that true, Jim?" Carol turned to her son, her tone a mixture of skepticism and concern.
To her eyes, Augustus was the very model of a fine officer—young, handsome, but never frivolous. He stood tall and straight, like a pine tree in the wind, exuding discipline and dignity—traits that easily won the favor of an older woman like Carol.
"Of course," Raynor quickly nodded. In truth, what Augustus said was mostly accurate.
"We're Heaven's Devils. Many colonial worlds know our name and speak of our deeds with admiration."
"You've never lied to me before, Jim. But even so, we still can't accept that money. It's yours—you earned it. We're your parents, not parasites," Carol said, shaking her head. The Raynor family all shared the same trait: when they made up their minds, they rarely budged.
"I understand your concerns," Augustus said. His gaze wandered toward the kitchen, where he noticed several opened cans laid out—clearly being used as the household's main source of food.
"You want to earn an honest living with your own hands. But poverty will eventually destroy your bodies."
From the poor quality of the metal containers alone, Augustus could guess the truth. With the farm bankrupt and no subsidies in sight, these cans were likely cheap, smuggled goods.
Such contraband often came from questionable sources. Some cans might've been stored for over a decade—expired, spoiled, breeding dangerous bacteria. Others contained synthetic food produced in shady factories on fringe worlds.
Smugglers bypassed health inspections and food safety permits—requirements that only members of the Old Families could afford—by jumping across systems and unloading their cargo at illicit black-market ports. There, they sold these goods to the poorest in the sector at prices that defied belief.
Eating such unregulated, low-grade food carried enormous risk. The mutated molds alone could be fatal. Though many diseases in the Koprulu Sector had been eradicated, even more continued to emerge—new ones with no known cure.
It was very likely that such food was what had taken the lives of Raynor's parents.
This wasn't just the fate of Shiloh—it was the fate of countless people across colonial worlds: poor food, harsh living conditions, and a future shrouded in darkness.
Augustus realized that if he truly wanted to save these people, he would have to reshape the system—one already rotten to the core.
Carol Raynor nodded quietly, and Augustus could only hope she had taken his words to heart.
After that, he said no more, giving the remaining time to Raynor—time to speak with his mother and his soon-to-return father, and to convince them in his own way.
The ship would only remain on Shiloh for half a day. Augustus didn't have the courage to visit the parents of Tom Omer—because he still believed Omer's death was his fault.
Before the ship launched toward Tarsonis, Augustus left a bouquet of fresh flowers at Omer's grave and stood in silence for a long while.
...
This was the birthplace of Terran humanity, a world the Federal Congress and the leaders of the Old Families proudly referred to as the beacon of human civilization in the Koprulu Sector.
Tarsonis.
Once renowned for its verdant landscapes and enchanting lakes and oceans, this world had become the economic and political heart of the Terran Confederacy. In this era, the unceasing influx of wealth and resources from hundreds upon hundreds of colonies only made Tarsonis shine all the more brilliantly.
Outside the portholes of Augustus's Voyager-class transport ship, the city of Tarsonis—grander and more magnificent than even Styrling—stretched all the way to the horizon.
Countless towering skyscrapers seemed to hold up the sky itself, their jagged edges lost in a haze of gray mist. Even at dawn, when the sun was just beginning to rise, the city's vibrant lights remained dazzlingly bright.
Every tower that appeared before Augustus's eyes seemed a masterpiece crafted by an artist. Each soaring spire strove to stand out among the millions of others through elegant curves and unique architectural artistry.
Tarsonis City was so vast, so colossal, that even after an hour of flight, the ship had yet to brush against any of its outer boundaries. Even Styrling, home to five million people, was merely one of Tarsonis City's countless districts. The population in just the suburbs of the city exceeded the total population of many entire colony planets.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---