In the end, none of that was really a concern of his. What did concern him was what Lexem was about to say and had failed to voice. The silent stares only piqued his curiosity.
Meekus Claudius took the floor again, steering the focus of the table back to the fish fin. “The size of the fin lost to the goldfish indicates that it is at least four years old. And yes, Charis Joba was acquiring her rations from a station that was run under Denim Rays. The issue here is not so much the fish or the stolen rations, but the water that was used to maintain the creature,” He pointed a stiff finger at his son, all glint of humor gone.
Denim held his stance although he felt as if the forefinger of his father had stabbed right through his chest and pierced his heart. He even felt the freaky tingle of imaginary blood spurting out of his chest and spilling to the floor, his entire life spilled and wasted.
If he’d thought he had an argument for whatever his father and the government held against him, he realized he had nothing now. Water had been stolen and the blame of it was being placed upon his shoulders.
He was sorely cornered and at his father’s mercy. . .again.
~ ~ ~
Charis hadn’t gotten very far in her ascent. She’d fallen several times down the slippery, craggy walls of the cavern she’d awaken in. With each fall, she forced herself upward again, extinguishing more and more of her energy, burning up much of it with frustrated tears every time her sore fingers failed to gain purchase in her escape.
This wasn’t how she imagined her ending. If she knew her life flame was to fizzle out into sorry embers somewhere in a dark, wet, well, she would have taken her lot on Disius 9 and kept her ‘sweets’ to herself, marrying some dreamless sap, farming until her fingers were worn to the bone and her face was so leathery that it would be nothing short of an exercise to smile.