CHAPTER 17

In the golden silence that followed the tumult, the trio found an unusual peace to devote themselves to their tasks. For three days, the prevailing calm was a balm for their minds, allowing them to concentrate without the harassment of adversity. Everything seemed to have returned to its usual course, and Zenith finally managed to tame the storm that was his energy, stabilizing his thrusters with the precision of a master watchmaker. At his side, Ashtar and Sapphire joined forces in a Herculean task: freeing their relatives from the confines of the dome.

With a sigh that broke the silence, the dome gave way, opening like the doors to a new dawn. Fresh air filled the space, laden with promise and new hope. This was the elixir that Terry and Rodrick needed to awaken from their lethargy.

—The levels are normal, — Safiro announced with a smile, watching her uncle Rodrick through the blinking lights of her scanning machine. The tension on her forehead eased as she confirmed her relative's good condition.

On the other side, Ashtar nodded in satisfaction as he checked Terry, who was struggling with the lights of the laboratory that were shining into his eyes. —It's natural that your body feels a bit heavy, — Ashtar explained, a mix of concern and relief in his tone. —After the odyssey you caused, without measuring the consequences…

—¿What odyssey? ¿What are you talking about? — Terry muttered, trying to get up slowly as if he were carrying the weight of the world, while a fierce headache took over his being.

The conversation unfolded with a cadence that denoted the beginning of a new stage for them, marked by the uncertainty of what they had experienced and the certainty of being together again. At this moment, between machines and diagnoses, not only the foundations of their physical recovery were being woven, but also the fabric of their unity and strength as a team. The atmosphere, impregnated with science and magic, was the perfect backdrop for this rebirth.

Ashtar extended his hand towards Terry, offering him a pill with a knowing smile. —Here, this will ease your headache, — he said, his voice tinged with a playful reprimand. —Though, honestly, you deserve a punch for acting without thinking.

Attention shifted to Rodrick as Sapphire, with a mix of concern and curiosity, asked him how he was feeling. —I'm… fine, I guess, — Rodrick replied, his gaze drifting to his now unrecognizable suit. —But, ¿what the hell am I wearing? And, ¿what am I doing here? — Confusion marked his words, tinged with a slight anger.

Ashtar and Sapphire exchanged glances. —I suppose he doesn't remember anything, — Ashtar said, his tone neutral.

—¿What should I remember? — Rodrick pressed, his curiosity piqued by the lack of answers.

—It's better this way. It means the process has worked correctly, — Safiro intervened, trying to reassure her uncle in a tone that sought to be comforting.

Ashtar took control of the situation, advising a slow exit from the dome to facilitate the readaptation of their bodies and minds to the environment. —No sudden movements, — he warned, watching as both men, still affected by the sedative, began to advance cautiously.

Rodrick's head spun, his balance betrayed by his shaky step. In a moment of weakness, Sapphire's aides rushed to his side, stopping him from falling. —¡What the hell did you do to me! — Rodrick exclaimed, his voice thick with shock and frustration.

—It's normal. Soon, your mind will focus and you'll feel more awake. You should eat something to help your body recover, — Safiro explained, trying to calm things down.

Rodrick, still in the haze of his confusion, cast an accusatory glance at Terry. —I don't know how, but I feel like this is your fault, — he said, his anger seeping through his words, searching for someone to blame in the midst of his bewilderment.

Their interactions, punctuated by reproaches and care, wove a complex web of relationships and responsibilities. Between jokes and seriousness, between support and accusation, the group dynamics revealed a deep connection, forged through tests that transcended immediate understanding. In this scenario of recovery and discovery, each played a crucial role, uniting their destinies on the path to clarity and mutual strengthening.

The tension in the lab reached a fever pitch when Terry, overcome with grief, lashed out at Rodrick. —Will you shut up, Rodrick! I have a headache that's splitting my head, so keep it down or get out. — His scream echoed off the walls, an echo of his torment.

—I'd love to leave, but I'm stuck here, and it's probably your fault! — Rodrick wasn't far behind, returning the shout with equal intensity, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

It was then that Ashtar, in an attempt to restore peace, intervened with authority. —Will you two calm down! This is a laboratory, not a Roman coliseum. We need to make sure you are okay and that you eat something substantial to recover. — His voice, firm and controlled, sought to impose order.

Rodrick, in a flash of memory, pointed at Ashtar. —I'm remembering something… I was with you when Terry burst in.

Terry, for his part, nodded. —Yes, I remember now.

The alarmed glances between Sapphire and Ashtar spoke of an unspoken fear; Sapphire tried to communicate with her gaze to Ashtar that she had to do something.

Trying to divert the conversation, Ashtar suggested, —It must be a dream. Rodrick, the sedative…—

But Terry interrupted him. —No, I remember clearly now. It was you, Rodrick, who tried to impose your will on me.

—I remember you acting like a child throwing a tantrum because I didn't agree to what you wanted— Rodrick raised his voice, his anger palpable.

In that moment of chaos, Helena, followed by her grandson Kyran, made her entrance, imposing silence with her mere presence.

—Shut up, both of you. You've already caused enough damage— her order was irrevocable, a matriarch dictating peace in the middle of the storm.

—Mother, — Terry called, his voice now a whisper, respect and surprise mixed together.

In the heart of a laboratory illuminated by the tense light of responsibility, Helena, with the gravity of a star commanding its system, fixed her gaze on Terry. Her voice, charged with the authority conferred upon her by years of leadership, resounded in the expectant silence.

—Terry, your recent behavior has not only been a disappointment, but also a lesson in what not to do. As the head of this team, you would be expected to act with the maturity and foresight that your position demands, not like a capricious child who, at the slightest setback, threatens to bring down a world... or worse, a space station full of innocent lives. Did you even think about the consequences of your actions before giving in to childish impulses? — Helena did not hide her anger, and Terry, aware of the storm that was coming, opted for silence, his head bowed in a gesture of regret and shame.

—I suppose not, — Helena continued, her tone leaving no doubt of her disappointment.

—Now, in the face of this display of immaturity, I ask you: Do you accept the custody of the guards assigned by your brother? — Terry remained silent, his silence an admission of his reluctance to answer.

Helena's gaze, sharp as a knife's edge, was a clear indication of her growing anger. Ashtar and Rodrick shared a look of mutual understanding; they knew all too well the meaning of that glint in Helena's eyes. Kyran, on the other hand, barely familiar with his grandmother's anger, watched the scene warily. Sapphire, knowing the dangers of being in the line of fire of a mother's wrath, kept his distance, though bound to his duty.

—I'm waiting, Terry, — Helena insisted, her patience running out like sand in a timer. Terry, facing his mother, knew that any punishment would be preferable to openly contradicting her. However, when Helena proposed becoming her personal bodyguard, the surprise left him speechless.

—Mother...— Rodrick tried to intervene, but a signal from Helena silenced him immediately.

—¡You can't do this! — Terry exclaimed, the thought of his mother following him tirelessly seeming more like a nightmare than a relief.

In the tense glow of the room, where future and past intertwined in a delicate dance, Helena stood like a tower of determination and protective motherhood. Her height, reaching

at 1.80 meters, he gave her an imposing presence, not only physically but also in spirit. In front of her, her son Terry, whose height of 1.78 meters at that moment seemed to diminish even further under the intensity of her gaze. Ashtar and Ethan, companions in battle and in life, shared the same height as Terry, forming a trio not only united by the cause, but also by a physical similarity that made them indistinguishable on the battlefield.

Rodrick, on the other hand, stood tallest in the group, his 6'11— giving him a visual advantage over many, but he still fell short of the height of his father, who at 6'2— had been an unwavering authority figure in his life. This hierarchy of heights was no mere coincidence, but a reflection of the chain of command and respect within the family and its allies.

The nephews, ranging in height from 1.65 to 1.70 metres, represented the diversity and promise of the new generations. Between men and women, this range of heights created a mosaic of personalities and potentials, each contributing their unique essence to the family lineage and its common struggle.

—If you do not accept the guards offered by your brother, I am obliged to look after you myself, — Helena declared, her voice a firm reminder of her unwavering commitment to the well-being of

her children. In that instant, the difference in height between them was not simply a physical measurement, but a symbolism of their roles and responsibilities within the fabric of their collective existence. Helen, tall and majestic, not only dominated the space with her presence, but also encapsulated maternal strength and protection, a beacon of light and guidance for her descendants.

In that room, amid glances ranging from respect to fear, a new chapter in the saga of this family was woven. Helena, with her commanding presence, redefined the norms of custody and care, reminding everyone that the matriarchy she led was not just a matter of leadership, but also of an unwavering love that extended beyond convention.

Helena, despite her delicate feminine appearance, embodied the strength and resilience of a born warrior. Her figure, although adorned by soft curves and a face that exuded delicacy, hid the steely temper of a woman versed in the art of war. Expert in the handling of a varied arsenal, her knowledge was not limited to weapons and tactics; she was also a master in teaching self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Itzumi and Zahori had been disciples under her tutelage, learning not only about combat strategies

but about technology, social etiquette, and the intricate dances of being simultaneously a lady, a wife, and a warrior.

Terry, knowing his mother's relentless determination, understood that Helena's threat to stay by his side day and night was more than just a warning; it was a promise. The idea of being watched so closely, without a moment's respite or the chance to escape maternal scrutiny, was almost as daunting a prospect to him as facing an enemy army. His mother, with abilities bordering on the supernatural, had always had the ability to find him, regardless of where he was hiding. Only once, in a remote corner between the borders of universes, had he managed to elude her thanks to the repose of a mystical gem and the fragment it carried within.

The mere thought of being guarded like a child in the eyes of his team and opponents was enough to shake his reputation as a leader.

The ridicule and discredit would soon follow, undermining not only his authority but also his self-esteem. It was then that the reality of his situation settled in his mind; accepting his mother's imposition was not only inevitable but prudent. He recognized the wisdom in her words and the necessity of

of having additional guards to protect him, especially now that he lacked the shard of the protective gem. With resignation and a renewed sense of responsibility, Terry prepared to abide by his mother's decision, knowing that, deep down, Helena wanted what was best for him and his safety.

—It's okay, Mother, — Terry conceded through gritted teeth, finally meeting Helena's gaze in a gesture of surrender. The strength of his voice wavered slightly, signaling the acknowledgement of his defeat in this domestic battle. —I will accept those men who guard me. — It was an acceptance laden with resignation, but also with respect for the maternal wisdom that Helena represented.

At the words, a collective sigh of relief spread through the room, permeating every corner of Zenith. Terry had given his consent, and with it, the prospect of Helena lurking in the halls in constant surveillance of her son was gone.

It was not that Helena's presence was undesirable; on the contrary, her figure inspired deep respect and affection. However, the idea of being under the constant supervision of a mother or grandmother, especially in an environment as critical and often dangerous as the one they faced, altered the usual dynamics of their operation.

Terry's gesture not only avoided a potential awkward situation for himself and his team, but also reaffirmed confidence in the security structures and protocols already in place. Accepting the additional protection was a step forward in recognizing the importance of caution and prevention in his strategies, a reminder that, in war as in life, there are battles that are won by heeding the advice of those who have walked the same path before.

—I like that, that you think sensibly, — Helena commented with a note of approval in her voice. Then she turned to Rodrick with a firm order. —Then, Rodrick, bring your men and make sure they keep a good eye on your brother.

—Of course, Mother, — Rodrick agreed, casting a reproachful glance at Terry. In his mind, he mused on how this whole situation could have been avoided if Terry had accepted help from the start.

—Come on, uncle, — Safiro intervened, offering to support Rodrick as he walked. —I'll help you change and get something to eat before you return to your regiment.

Rodrick nodded with difficulty, still affected by the effects of the sedative. He felt a mixture of irritation and frustration towards Terry, wondering how long it would take him to forgive his brother. He just wanted to get back to his routine and attend to his pending obligations.

Meanwhile, Ashtar helped Terry get changed and get something to eat, just as Helena left for Whittaker Castle to continue her duties.

In Zenith's bedroom, Darius entered to check on his nephew, noticing that Ashtar was there helping him get dressed.

—At least you're awake and feeling better, that's positive— Darius commented as he approached Terry—How are you feeling?

—Like an AstroScavenger ran over me, — Terry replied, still suffering from a headache. —¿How long will it take for that pill to kick in?

—You should feel relief by now— Ashtar said, scanning his head with a device—I see you still have an internal injury; I'll put you in an injection to reduce inflammation. You'll feel better that way. He proceeded to administer the injection with a pencil-like device.

—Ouch! — Terry complained. —A little more care.

—You deserve it, — Ashtar replied, still upset by recent events.

—Don't you think Helena's reprimand was enough? — Darius asked, trying to mediate and continued saying— I preferred not to be there, I knew what was going to happen.

Their conversation revealed the complexity of their relationship, woven with concern, responsibility and the inevitability of facing the consequences of their actions. Despite the friction and challenges, the family bond and camaraderie between them remained strong, a beacon of light in the darkness of space.

—¿Aren't you supposed to be my bodyguard? — Terry questioned with a mix of surprise and challenge in his voice, his gaze fixed on the face of his supposed protector.

—Of course I am, Darius replied, his tone tinged with an almost casual frankness. —But I don't consider myself reckless. You won't find me charging toward certain death, much less seeking to provoke the one person I'm convinced could effortlessly defeat me. — He paused, his expression softening into a wry smile before adding. —Honestly, I'd rather face a Canisaur Rex than your mother.

The statement, laden with an almost fearful respect for Terry's mother figure, hinted not only at Helena's reputation but also at the profound impact her presence had on even those accustomed to facing daily dangers. It was an admission of vulnerability and, at the same time, an acknowledgement of the strength Helena represented, not only as a mother but as an undisputed leader.

—I hope you use better judgment next time, brother. You made a ridiculous display of yourself in front of everyone. You need to start acting like the High Imperial you are. I'm still furious about what you put us through, and I doubt it will go away anytime soon. I'm sure Rodrick feels the same way, and don't expect him to talk to you for a while, — Ashtar vented, his frustration evident.

— If it were up to me, I wouldn't speak to you either. But since you're the leader of this group, I have no choice but to tolerate you. Be thankful that my oath as a doctor obliges me to preserve lives— he added as he gathered his things, preparing to leave. —I'm going back to my lab. If you need anything, let me know— he concluded before leaving, visibly upset.

—I don't blame him, — Darius interjected with a sigh. —You really did excel this time, nephew.

—You wouldn't understand, so leave me alone, — Terry replied, adjusting his jacket and adjusting the High Imperial emblem. —Just stick to your role as bodyguard. I have enough on my plate and I don't need any more lectures, — he said, irritation marking every word. He felt a whirlwind of frustration and loneliness, longing for the company and comfort of Ætheris, his lost confidant. Despite being surrounded, he felt misunderstood in his solitude, aware of the weight of leadership that others could not appreciate.

Arming himself with his weapons belt, he prepared to face the day, followed closely by his uncle Darius. Together, they walked through the door into the office, determined to maintain the composure their position demanded. He knew the rumors about their altercation would spread.

With Rodrick they would already be moving on, but he was determined to remain unfazed, facing the responsibilities of his leadership with serenity and unwaveringness.

In a world as tiny as Zenith, rumors spread like wildfire, and right now, all eyes were inevitably on him. He walked through the door, into the hallway flanked by the desks of his five secretaries and that of his personal assistant, Vicenzo, on his way to his office. This space represented a temporary sanctuary of calm, a respite before facing the imminent surveillance that would be imposed on him by the men sent by his brother. He knew that, once they arrived, their inquisitive eyes would not leave him, adding additional pressure to his already burdened shoulders, as he internally dealt with the whirlwind of thoughts caused by recent events.

Vicenzo came in to inform Terry that there were some documents awaiting his signature, which he handed over before discreetly walking out the door.

At that moment, while his uncle Darius was engrossed in reading a book in his armchair, Marcus appeared accompanied by the men assigned by Rodrick.

At that moment, Terry felt an overwhelming urge to escape, longing for the freedom he had experienced on the planet Zalara, where his identity as the High Imperial was unknown. The current reality seemed to him like a prison without bars.

—Here you go, Your Excellency, — Marcus said, handing him a document for his signature. —Your consent is required here. — Terry, barely containing his frustration, signed the paper without protest. —¿Where would you like us to place the guards, Your Excellency? — Marcus asked. The annoyance was evident in Terry's gaze, prompting Darius to step in and take charge of the situation.

—Let me handle it, Marcus, — Darius said, glancing at Terry, who waved his hand in agreement. —Come with me, guys, — Darius said, leading the guards out of the office. He assigned two of them to position themselves strategically outside Terry's office, and two others at the main entrance to the hallway, thus ensuring control over who came and went.

Terry decided that he would do everything possible not to leave his office, seeking refuge in the only space where he felt protected from the persistent glances of his new guardians,

least for the rest of the day. So, in an act of silent rebellion, he resigned himself to the solitude of his office, postponing any confrontation or decision until the next day.