He had spent the next few years intent on repairing their damaged relationship, and now, even in these dire times, they were stronger than ever. It was a massive hole in his heart that he had finally filled. That left only one other hole, one that had no fix.
He went to the attached garage, where the gym and training room was located. There, in the center of a padded area, his fifteen year-old son was flowing through a complex Chen t’ai chi straight sword form more smoothly than he ever could, even at his peak. Roen couldn’t help but smile watching the motions. Cameron was a prodigy. Tao’s ego must be bursting at the seams.
“Hi, Roen,” said Cameron.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dad?” Roen growled.
“Sorry. Tao’s words,” he replied, not breaking form at all. White-snake-spits-out transitioned to black-dragon-swings-tail. “We’ve been working on getting better talking as one person.” Luo-Han-subdues-dragon flowed into black-bear-turns-backward.
Roen wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. Tao inhabiting his son was a prickly point. He had dreamed of passing Tao along to Cameron, but had thought it would happen when he was at the ripe old age of eighty something, preferably on his death bed.
It took him a long time to reconcile with the reality that his old friend was no longer with him. He still hadn’t gotten over it, and while he loved his son more than life itself, he couldn’t help but feel robbed of his years with Tao. Being jealous of your teenage son felt wrong, but Roen couldn’t explain it any other way. He longed to have Tao back in his head, not only for the friendship, but for his mentor’s wisdom and assurance.
When he was with Tao, Roen remembered being decisive. He never second-guessed himself and always felt that he, with Tao’s input of course, made the best possible decisions when presented with difficult choices. There was an empowerment to that confidence, and he loved feeling that way every day he lived his life as a host. Now, it was missing, and like a recovering addict, he longed to find and feel that confidence again.
When Cameron had still been figuring out who this new voice in his head was, Roen had tried to be there to smooth the transition. However, as with most young children, Cameron had taken the new change in his stride. Within a few months, Tao speaking in his head had felt as natural as everything else in his life.
Now, Roen was pretty sure that he was only the third most important person in Cameron’s life, after Tao and Jill. How could he compete, after all? With Jill, it was the way it should be. She had been there for Cameron when Roen had had to leave them. She had always been the better parent, anyway. She deserved to have more of the boy’s love. Tao jumping in front of him for his son’s affection and priority hurt. The truth was, though, how do you compete against a voice in his head with him all the time?
By the time Cameron was five, against the wishes of both of his parents, he began training to fight, first in boxing, then in Shaolin Fist and Fanzi Fist, and then in t’ai chi, Ba Gua Zhang, and Hsing Yi Quan. Basically, his son had learned more martial arts in a few short years than Roen had in a lifetime. By the time he was six, he had shot his first gun. Now, at fifteen, Cameron was well on his way to becoming that rare Prophus equivalent of an Adonis Vessel, and it worried his parents. This was the last thing they wanted for him.
Even worse, his son being a host so early made him a very vulnerable target, especially with the invention and miniaturization of the Penetra scanner. Not only were the Genjix after them, but most of the advanced countries on this planet were as well. These days, their enemies flanked them on all sides and numbered greater than they had at any other time in their history.
“Let’s see what you got,” Roen said, lunging halfheartedly with a stick. Swordplay was not his strong suit; there wasn’t much call for that in their line of work. Still, Tao insisted that it was an important part of the boy’s training.
Cameron switched out of his form, parried Roen’s thrust with his sword, and pressed the attack. Roen danced out of the way, circling to his right and beaming with pride as his son moved with the skill and instinct of a master swordsman. They clashed a few more times, each blow just short of hitting its mark.
Roen was always surprised at how fluid and natural his son’s movements were. In a few years, when he grew into manhood, Cameron would become one of the finest hosts the Prophus had ever had, his father had no doubt of that. That fact also terrified Roen. Cameron already acted much older than his fifteen years, and he carried a seriousness that was eerie for someone so young. Blame or praise for that could be squarely put at Tao’s feet.
“Not like you came out so well-adjusted yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
Then the unthinkable happened. Cameron slipped under his guard and jabbed Roen in the thigh. It didn’t sink in deep, but a sword was a sword – Tao believed in training with semi-sharpened weapons – and a moment later Roen found himself sitting on the ground, trying to stem the flow of blood trickling down his leg.
“Sorry, Dad,” Cameron piped, not sounding sorry at all. “Tao says you should pay attention when there are sharp objects about and also that your footwork has gotten sloppy.”
“Well,” he replied, “you tell Tao that maybe teaching kids to stab their parents is a bad idea.”
“Tao says you shouldn’t be such a sore loser and a big baby.”
“Big baby?”
“And sore loser,” said Jill, joining in on the conversation. Roen and Cameron turned to see Rin and her standing at the doorway, wine glasses in hand. “And bleeding all over the floor.”
“Tao wants to know if you feel old now,” said Cameron. Then he added, “Because he says you should.”
Rin walked up to his son and stuck out her hand. “Hello, Cameron.”
Cameron took her hand. “Hi, Chisq. Tao and you crossed paths shortly before the original Inquisition. He was surprised when you took the side of the Genjix.”
Rin smiled. “It was a difficult time for us all. I didn’t realize the Prophus had an Adonis program.”
Roen scowled. “Yeah, the entire program is standing right in front of you.” He stood up and tussled Cameron’s hair. “All right, Lizzie Borden, time for bed. Fall asleep fast; I need to talk to Tao.”
Cameron sheathed his sword. “Sure thing, Roen. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be out.”
“Stop calling me by my name!” He watched as Cameron put the sword away and exited the garage. He turned to Jill. “I swear that damn Quasing has too much control over him.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really? Sounds familiar.”
Roen’s face turned a shade of red. “That was different.”
“Yes, the fifteen year-old seems more mature.”
Jill had long ago forgiven him for the years in which he had abandoned her and newborn Cameron to go chasing Genjix rumors. In the end, even though he was credited with blowing the lid off Quasiform, he realized the price his family had paid for his absence was still too high. She took satisfaction in watching him squirm every time she brought it up, more so for his own guilt than anything else.
Rin’s eyes trailed after Cameron until he was out of the room. “He has the presence and the demeanor, though I don’t think he would have made it into the Hatchery.”
“Why not?” asked Roen
“To be honest, he’s not beautiful enough. The Adonises at the Hatchery are physically exceptional.” Rin blushed. “Sorry, no offense intended.”
“You just called my son ugly. How do I not take offense to that?”
Jill pointed at Roen. “Well, look at what genes Cam had to work with.”