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unquestionably the strongest. He was feared even by the bravest of his colleagues on the police force, but on this occasion he was a broken soul in search of something he would not admit he needed. He wanted to simply sit with someone who was compassionate about him and did not view him as an authority figure.
    We talked for hours after the lights were out. I was more than happy to exchange sleep for the company of my old friend, the closest thing to a brother I would ever have.  Sweaty from the heat but without any complaint or show of discomfort, he finally left and promised to return soon, leaving me half the night to sleep, an activity my body demands but my mind considers a waste of time while in a constant state of worry for the safety of my son.  I succumbed to sleep with the slight relief that Eon seemed to be resting easy even in this unusual temperature.
    Father, please write again.

Chapter 7
     
    October 23, 2829
     
    I hope in vain every day that another transmission will arrive.  I am beginning to wonder if the first one was real.
    The first celebration of any kind occurred today on Gambler.  At least, it was called a celebration.  When we arrived at the mess hall, the interior walls were lined with police bearing the emblem on their sleeve.  The embroidered five-point star started as a regular symbol of their role, but it has become a mark of a totalitarian system under the current leadership. They watched us all like statues with their hands held tight behind their backs.  There were also an unusual number of people in the dining facility that day, as if all shifts had been called to eat at the same time.
    The portions that were brought out were larger than normal, but it was the same stuff as usual.  Then something additional was brought. I stared at the unfamiliar sight of a dessert, something I had not seen since we left our old home.  I wiped some of the glaze off it and touched it to my tongue.  The taste of sugar awoke senses that I could barely remember.  Old associations of luxury, family, and holidays wisped through my thoughts for a moment, but then they were gone.
    A drink was placed in front of me.  Before I sipped, the strong chemical smell revealed it was not the typical water we had at meals.  I wondered if it was poison, some form of euthanasia, but some of the older folks were drinking it and laughing.  It was a manufactured alcoholic beverage of some sort, not wine, not anything else that used to be familiar.
    Eon whispered in my ear, “That’s the guy that attacked me.” He nodded toward an old man. The one that attacked him, the derelict rogue, was one of the elders drinking the concoction just a few seats away.  I could not tell what emotion prevailed within Eon.  Whether it was fear, rage, or both, he only picked at his food.  He just stared at the man and would not let his eyes drift.  I was confused by the presence of the man, because his earlier behavior suggested he was a wanderer who had been banished, unentitled to rations.
    Music began to play over the intercom loudspeakers.  It was a recorded instrumental piece from Earth that I could not recognize. I imagined someone thought it was supposed to be soothing and celebratory, but it sounded more like something that was taken from an old movie scene with a ghoul playing an organ inside a haunted mansion.  The eating and drinking stopped as our fellow diners paused to listen to the unfamiliar forgotten sound of music, although dissonant.
    Leonidas Verga entered preceded by twelve patrols. It is interesting how the mind does not forget a face.  I remembered him from the Islands, the former Police Chief recruited originally by General David Mason to do a very similar job on Gambler.  He was wearing a robe, not a lightweight synthetic suit like everyone else.
    Two girls who could not have been more than fourteen clung to him, one on each arm.  They were barely clothed in garments that were more artistic than