The gates of the villa slid open as the jeep rolled in under the fading gold of the evening sky. Armed soldiers saluted as Jimi drove past. Didi sat silently, her smile long gone, her hands resting tightly in her lap.
As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, a young soldier approached.
"Miss Didi," he said, bowing his head slightly, "the General has asked to see you in his office. Immediately."
Jimi glanced at her, brows furrowed with concern.
Didi exhaled, nodded, and stepped out of the jeep without a word. Her boots echoed through the marble hallway as she approached the double doors to her father's study.
When she entered, the air in the room was thick.
General Odo stood by the large window, arms behind his back. He didn't turn as she stepped in.
"I hear you were in Sector Nine again today," he said coldly.
Didi stood firm. "Yes. I brought food. Clean water. They need—"
He spun around sharply.
"They are not your people!" he barked.
She flinched but did not back down. "They're people. That's all that should matter."
"You disobeyed direct instructions," Odo growled. "You're feeding the same rats who raised the traitors in Sector 12. What do you think you're doing? Starting your own little rebellion?"
Didi's fists clenched at her sides. "I'm doing what you won't."
Odo slammed his fist on the desk, his voice like thunder. "Enough! You're a daughter, not a commander. You do not go into those ruins. You do not speak for the army. And you do not defy me again."
"I'm trying to help—"
"If you leave this villa again to play savior to the enemy," he snapped, "I will put you on a plane back to Greenland. You'll live with your aunt, under constant guard, where your bleeding heart can't cause more damage."
Didi's breath caught. Her eyes stung, but she refused to let him see a single tear.
She turned and stormed out without another word.
The villa's sitting room was dimly lit. The soft sounds of a string quartet played from an old speaker. Bianca, tall and elegant, sat on the chaise lounge reading a journal. She looked up as Didi entered.
"What happened?" she asked, concerned but calm.
Didi didn't hesitate. "He screamed at me. Threatened to send me away. Just because I helped people who are starving. Like I'm some kind of traitor."
She expected comfort—support, maybe even anger. But Bianca only set her journal down and sighed.
"You should listen to your father, Didi."
Didi blinked. "What?"
"This is war," Bianca said gently, but firmly. "He's not angry because he doesn't care. He's angry because he's trying to control chaos. The people of Forun may suffer, but if we show weakness, we lose more than ground—we lose order."
Didi's voice cracked. "So that's it? Let them starve because we're afraid they might rise?"
Bianca stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. "Sometimes, mercy costs more than we can afford. You're a soldier's daughter. Start acting like it."
Didi stared at her, heart pounding, chest burning with disappointment. She turned and walked away.
She didn't cry.
She just walked faster, down the long hall, until the music and politics and war behind her faded into silence.