Rudolph Delano sat in the large car as they headed to the airstrip. They were about to wing their back to Velgarin, the tiny city where Lucien Delano was camping. He ran a large hand over his face.

Mumma, his Mumma, was also arriving in a few hours.

And then, there would be fireworks, he thought with a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Poor Claude, always at the receiving end of their father’s blistering tongue.

Why did that happen? Rudy wondered ...