“They want you to fight,” Leo said.

“No. Not me personally.” His father chuckled. “Could you imagine? I don’t even know how to hold a gun. But yes, they want me to help with the war. They want me to use ventasium to create new weapons. Things they can use to wipe out the Djarik. But they don’t see how that will only make it worse. That’s not what it was meant for. A scientist looks at a pile of uranium or plutonium and they see reactors that can power whole cities. An admiral or general looks at the same thing and sees a way to raze those cities to the ground.”

“So you told them no.”

“I told them there has to be a better way. And then I asked them to leave.”

Leo wasn’t sure he asked so much as ordered. He was sure his father was right, though—about there being a better way.

He nodded toward the cup in his father’s hands. “Can I?”

“I didn’t think you liked coffee,” Dr. Fender said.

Leo shrugged. “You only let me try it once. You said it was bad for me.”

Calvin Fender smiled and set his mug down in front of Leo, who gave it a sniff. He liked the smell well enough, earthy and rich. He took a tentative sip, then scrunched his whole face. The aftertaste was even worse than the regular taste, which was bad enough. “Nope. Still terrible.”

“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind when you’re older. And not just about coffee.”

Leo slid the cup back over to his father, who held on with both hands and stared deep into the mug. It was one of the ceramic kinds, with a picture of a seagull painted on it. The Fenders got it one year while on vacation. It said, Life’s a beach and then you fly. Leo’s mother had picked it out. He could still remember her chuckling to herself in the gift shop.

“You know your mom drank four or five of these a day,” Calvin Fender mused. “She said nobody ever died from drinking too much coffee.” He took another big swallow.

“The soldiers,” Leo started. “They knew about her.”

Dr. Fender set down his empty cup and stared at Leo. “You really shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations. It could get you into trouble.”

“Sorry,” Leo said, digging his chin into the table and peeking over his stacked arms.

“It’s okay,” his father said. “And yes. They knew.”

“But they were wrong. What they said? There’s no way we could have stopped it, right? There’s no way we could have saved her.” Leo could feel his throat getting tight. Not a panic attack. Just an attempt to choke down tears before they could start. He didn’t like to cry in front of his father if he could help it.

Calvin Fender reached across the table and laid a hand on Leo’s warm cheek. It was the first time his father had touched him in days.