A glum goodbye

Dear Diary,

I spent most of the day with my father on his last day in Kingston. He was quiet, and didn't look at me too much. We were riding in an open, old-fashioned horse drawn carriage, touring the city. Kingston wasn't nearly as polished as other colonial capitals. The streets in disrepair, most of the inhabitants in threadbare clothing (what clothing they wore, anyway. Some of the Hindu women wore almost nothing at all), and guarded by a mishmash of Imperial conscripts from every corner of the Empire armed with outdated, first generation Aether Rifles. I realized I would miss my idyllic life back at the estate. No more naughty little encounters with Cordelia, no more evening relaxations with mother.

And no more cooks, or maids. Now that was going to be an adjustment! I've never cooked a meal in my entire life! I didn't see a kitchen at Mr Singh's workshop. He must have food delivered or eats at a delicatessen. As we rode, it dawned on my that Mr. Singh just simply must have a home elsewhere as not even a proper library was present. Oh, he certainly had many textbooks and peer reviewed technical journals, but no tomes of classic literature or history. A man as cultured as he would certainly have a well-stocked library.

Here I am, writing again about Mr Singh when it was intention to document my last day with father. I suppose I'm avoiding writing down the glum conversation that we left each other with. As we pulled up to the Somatrain Terminal, he let out a great sigh, as if he'd been holding it in the entire time we'd been riding together.

"Clara, many great men in history have had to sacrifice their own wants and schemes so that the unfolding of Manifest Destiny may roll across the globes, across the maps, for all of us in the Empire. Today, it becomes my turn to leave something I love in what I can only describe as very unconventional hands, and for reasons I cannot fully explain. I have no illusions that you'll be able to innovate much in only a few months, and strongly suspect the only thing you'll end up inventing here is a new position to take his... no; no I don't want our last encounter to be marked by anger." he said, half to me and half to himself. He looked up at the sky, at the strange foreign sun.

"War is coming, Clara. I don't know when, but the Americans are getting bolder. They have spies everywhere, and their scientists...well they simply have more to work with. The Soma mines in Mexico are absolutely teaming with activity. They are preparing for something, and fear what that might be. Now, don't assume I agreed to his ridiculous terms with any illusion that keeping you here will keep you safe. If the Americans come, it'll be global war."

"No, what I ask of you is to whisper to him in his bed that his country, his world, needs his inventions. I am not much of a soldier, but I can assure Mr. Trask is; and during questioning he revealed that Mr Singh has been able to perfect a Plasma weapon with seemingly no stabilization issues. The Empire needs weapons like that if we are to continue to dominate and grow."

I couldn't believe it. My father, my own father, was trying to get me to recruit this man for the East Orion Company. He didn't care one bit that I was sitting on a pillow due to my soreness, nor that he was leaving me without guard or escort on the edge of human civilization. No, what he cared about was the damned company. Of course we were going to war with the Americans. Our entire imperial history is basically the competition between us and them; and that was never going to change.

A grim smile parted his lips. "Sam Jr is to be a father. Elaine is with child, perhaps twins. I was going to wait to tell the rest of the family when the ComSat came back online and we could all be together again, like we used to, to hear the good news. So there it is, you'll be an aunt..." he said, hanging his head slightly..."perhaps."

I hugged him goodbye, and didn't look back as I returned to the carriage. I could feel his eyes on me as I left him there on the platform, a lonely, bitter man who was losing his youngest daughter before his very eyes.

The enormous rumble and sonic warbling of the Soma engines fired up behind me as I rode back to the workshop, and back to Mr. Singh.