Coruscant

The politicians wanted them to call it Imperial Center these days. Not that it made a difference to anyone, save perhaps for the poor sap technicians who'd had to make their painful way through every piece of documentation and code in computer systems from here to the Outer Rim to change it. Probably drove the guys crazy; Hugo had half a mind to seek one of them out, and see what reaction would occur if he "accidentally" used the wrong name in conversation. In his mind, there would be violence: glorious, hillarious violence.

Occupying his mind with stupid trivia kept it focussed away from the things he didn't want to be thinking about; namely why he was here, and why he would much rather have been anywhere else in the galaxy, given the choice. He knew how important it was that he remain committed to his mission, and not allow his focus to wander. He needed a clear head. Needed his emotions in check. Needed to ensure that all those carefully errected barriers were at full strength, so that he could resist the urge to literally beat sense into his child, and drag him kicking and screaming back to the ship.

He'd hate you for that, the quiet voice of reason whispered in his mind.

Hugo fought against the urge to accept it; he'd never been the kind of parent to bow in the face of better judgement, even if it did incur the wrath of his offspring. Maybe Cambrio was too young to understand it now - maybe he'd come to, once he was older - but everything he had ever done had been in his best interests. The weapons training; the strict rules; the military discipline; Hugo and his family had seen the dangers that were out there in the galaxy, first hand; he had no intention of allowing his sons to be caught unawares.

But the voice persisted. He already hates you enough. Rely on your instincts this time, and he'll just leave again.

He sighed, mopping a palm across his face. The specifics of the explosive argument that had ended his last encounter with Cambrio had been lost amidst the swarm of similar confrontations that had grown even more frequent over recent years. He couldn't remember what had sparked the debate, but like always, it shifted in the same familiar direction. It isn't fair that you did this to us, Dad. Why couldn't you leave us to have a normal life. This isn't what mom would have wanted.

That last jab twisted his insides even now. He hadn't revealed to them the specifics of what had happened to their mother; didn't want to taint whatever happy memories of her the boys retained. In truth though, Hugo couldn't be sure what Emaryn would have wanted for their boys anymore; when he had last seen her, she had attempted to do something to Cambrio. What it was, he couldn't be sure; but something had changed her: twisted her into an evil, hateful creature. Whatever her hopes were for the boys, Hugo knew he needed to follow a completely different path.

Instead, he had settled on the only experience he had, and had raised them as soldiers. Vittore relished in it; Cambrio hated it. Maybe the younger son just wasn't cut out for the lifestyle; maybe he was one of the recruits that would have washed out of training under any other circumstances. Maybe this escape, this running away, was his way of washing out. Or maybe it's my fault.

Though he didn't remember the words that they had exchanged, he did remember the last words that had issued from his mouth: they burned into his memory like a scar. You want a normal life, Cambrio? Fine. Go and live it. We don't need you here. We don't want you.

Hugo's jaw clenched; hands curling into fists. Ever since he'd uttered those words, his heart had begged him to take it back; but something had stood in the way; pride, maybe, or his self-imposed role as the infallable commander that couldn't admit to being wrong, lest the boys lose faith in him.

Well, not this time. If that's what it took - admitting he was wrong; buying into the heart games of his over-emotional son; saying he was sorry - to repair the damage he had wrought, then so be it.

Dodging the last pedestrian, he ducked into the side street that housed the address his contacts had managed to source for Cambrio. His eyes swept around him, searching for escape routes, and cover; though he wasn't sure whether he was preparing himself for danger, or simply plotting his path to flee when this inevitably exploded in his face, he couldn't be sure.

Drawing in a breath, he mustered up what confidence he could and then, focusing every ounce of effort to quiet his mind and prevent him from talking himself out of it, he reached out and jabbed a finger into the comlink beside the door chime. "Cambrio," he said, surprised at how thin and weak his voice sounded; the wind's fault, he decided. He swallowed hard, and rummaged around for a little extra volume. "Its me; its your father. We -" He frowned; grimaced. "- we need to talk."