Groundlings

“Hey, Mobe. I need to talk to you.” Tika’s voice sounded strained, like she hadn’t been sleeping. Well, that made two of them.
Remember, Mobreigh. Breathe deep. In and out.
He looked up from his homework as the scrape of wood against wood told him she’d sat down opposite him at the table. “What’s up, T?” he asked.
“We got a letter from the governor,” Tika said. Bless her, always straightforward.
But the way she said it was concerning. “Why would she send us something?” he asked, frowning.
Tika’s eyes flickered to the floor, to the wall, and back to him. “How would you like to go on a trip?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table. “I went to see her about it earlier after work. The letter doesn’t explain much so I went to see for myself.”
She was beating around the bush. Mobreigh had homework to do. “And?”
“She’s recruiting colonists,” Tika said. “Gonna send us far away from here, if we accept.”
A lump rose in Mobreigh’s throat. It sounded insane. “What?”
“She wants me in on it because of my work on the force,” she said. Her hand went to her hip, briefly touching the pistol strapped there. Tika was an up-and-coming young officer in the city’s police force. She had passed her training with flying colors and was already being trusted with big jobs when they came up. It made sense that she would be asked to join up.
But why him?
Tika saw the gears turning in his head and stayed quiet for a minute, as if unsure of what to say next. “I know you’re failing gunmanship, Mobe,” she said finally. Wow, way to rub it in his face. “It’ll give you a reason to drop school.”
Good to know how highly she thought of him. He sighed. “Why’s that even matter?” Mobreigh asked. “So what if I’m doing badly? We can’t all be gun-slinging power heroes, T.”
She cracked a smile. “No one’s asking you to. They want you on board because we come as a package. Like hell would I leave you here by yourself. Not after…” she trailed off. She didn’t need to say any more.
So he was only invited because he was the dead weight little brother. He held no significance by himself, he only existed in their eyes through his big sister. Thanks a lot, government.
“I know what you’re thinking, kid,” Tika said. “But look at it this way- you won’t fail your classes. And you’ll have room to grow in a different direction if that’s what you want. I know it’s hard right now.”
Tika was right about that one thing. It was really fucking hard. “I don’t know, T,” Mobreigh said.
She held her hands up. “I’m only telling you now so you have time to think it over. I won’t make your decision for you, Mobe.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Sure. I need you to know that the choice is yours whether we go or stay. I just thought it might be a way to get out of- to get out of this house. You know?”
Mobreigh nodded. He knew exactly what she said. Their family had lived in this house for as long as he could remember. Even when they’d had mom and dad.
But with Selsdon gone, the house was home to more dead Popes than living, and it felt large and empty and wrong. Tika was right, it was a perfect excuse to move out.
But to move out of the city? Somewhere he didn’t know? And to go down on the ground?
It was suicide. Plain suicide, and he was sure the higher-ups knew it.
Suicide sounded really nice right about now. Gunmaship was one hell of a class, and he had more than enough reasons to not want to be around firearms right now.
Tika too, but she didn’t have that option. But then again, she was good at handling them. It was like second nature to her. It had been for Selsdon too.
Mobreigh hadn’t gotten that lucky. Both his older siblings were people of action. Sel had been a groundguard, one of the most esteemed positions in the city defense. He’d worked his ass off to earn it and it had killed him in return. It was unfair.
Tika had wanted to follow in his footsteps. She had planned to work her way up the ranks of the force until she was an experienced enough commander to earn her own squad of groundguards.
She wanted nothing to do with them now.
She had very little to lose.
And, on that note, what did Mobreigh have? He was struggling to keep his head out of the metaphorical water in school, and he’d never been particularly good at literally anything. He was a runt and he had nothing.
Except concerns and reservations, and boy did he have many of them.
Tika stood up, scooting her chair back into place with that horrible wood on wood sound. “Think it over, kiddo,” she said. “We’ve got time.” She moved to stand behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders in a haphazard hug.
“I will,” he said, leaning up into Tika’s arms a little despite himself. She kissed the side of his head, making an exaggerated smacking noise.
“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” she said, straightening up. “I love you, kid.”
“I love you too, T.”
“I know,” she said and left.