[Aral stops dead, struck. There's no hiding or ignoring how Aral looks Miles over again with new eyes, browns drawn in puzzled consternation. But those eyes...
It was possible, wasn't it? A son (a mutant?) that he'd never met... after all... he was the same to his own father. Not even a possibility.
... Or. Is that too much presumption? The war was hurdling towards unavoidable conflict, and Ezar is doing less than Aral would like to drag the reins of the War Party. Last he heard, Prince Serg was making noises that Ges would be the Admiral overseeing everything.
... Does he survive that long? Meet Commander Naismith again? Does she find some other love, more stable, more sane, better prospect all the way around for an achingly wise Betan officer.]
...
And your father? [The low tone is completely free of its habitual rasp in Miles' future.]
no subject
It was possible, wasn't it? A son (a mutant?) that he'd never met... after all... he was the same to his own father. Not even a possibility.
... Or. Is that too much presumption? The war was hurdling towards unavoidable conflict, and Ezar is doing less than Aral would like to drag the reins of the War Party. Last he heard, Prince Serg was making noises that Ges would be the Admiral overseeing everything.
... Does he survive that long? Meet Commander Naismith again? Does she find some other love, more stable, more sane, better prospect all the way around for an achingly wise Betan officer.]
...
And your father? [The low tone is completely free of its habitual rasp in Miles' future.]