The trail stretched on ahead, but Jamison and Trevon stopped.
"Why did you do it, and how?" Trevon broke the silence.
Jamison scuffed his feet. He looked into his father's face, and his eyes retraced their steps to the barricade. And to the holding unit.
Nessa watched and squirmed. Jamison squirmed too, and he released a sigh.
"The younger race," Nessa fed.
"The younger race is in trouble," he spilled. "The home world is in crisis. They cannot sustain themselves without trade allies."
Trevon wrinkled his brow and cocked his head.
"Don't lie," he scolded.
"I'm not lying," Jamison insisted. "It's happening, I swear!"
Trevon shook his head and said, "I know you're using your imagination, but other people might not."
"It's not my imagination," he whimpered.
Trevon shoved his hands into his uniform pockets.
"I don't know what to say to that," he admitted. "These shenanigans could cost me my job. Wait here. Do not move. My pod is in the landing bay back there. I'll pick you up where we started on the trail."
Jamison watched as Trevon jogged into the distance. He was alone.
Nessa eyed the energy shield that enclosed her holding unit.
"The truth will come to light eventually," Nessa said into the translator.
Jamison's eyes widened, and he did a rapid check of his surroundings before surrendering his attention to the 3D, ghost-like figure before him.
"This is a mental link," Nessa said. "No one will see me."
"I hope you're right about the truth," he said. "This is a heck of a secret to keep."