The Bennett Family

"Lee Pachinyang; he used to work at Wolf Industries. After the war broke out and the Great Depression hit, he was laid off and joined the military. Lee is the kind of person who is incredibly earnest in everything he does, never cutting corners. Hmm, if you ever meet him, you'll definitely remember his black eyes—as deep as the void of space."

Rick stared at Augustus without blinking. For a fleeting moment, he felt as if Augustus were an older brother to these men, understanding his subordinates as intimately as if they were siblings he'd grown up with. Augustus would be vexed by their bad habits and proud of their strengths, and that photograph was like a family portrait.

Back at boot camp, few in his squad were willing to talk to Rick because he disliked communicating and lacked humor. Most importantly, his smile always struck people as fake.

Although Rick had stood before a mirror countless times at boot camp to correct his smile and make it appear more natural, it did nothing to improve his popularity.

Rick had once been a member of one of the founding families of Tarsonis. He grew up in an environment that was materially abundant but extremely isolated. In a city like Tarsonis, which still contained massive slums, Rick's life was nothing short of heaven to those at the bottom struggling just to survive.

But in Rick's heart, everything had its price.

From childhood, Rick had never stepped outside the Bennett Sky Tower, a structure hundreds of stories high owned by his family in the heart of Tarsonis. The people he saw most were his nannies, butlers, and maids. He had an entire team of private tutors responsible for his education in economics, politics, art, management, history, and aristocratic etiquette.

Beyond that, Rick had to study aerospace engineering, starship manufacturing, starport management, and other knowledge closely tied to his family's business. When Rick was five, his father gave him an assignment: which cost items in the interstellar barge transport network should be cut to increase profit? Rick's answer was: people.

His parents never allowed anyone other than family and servants to have close contact with their son. This was, of course, to keep their children as far from the public eye as possible and reduce the risk of kidnapping.

However, Rick knew they just wanted to ensure that this son, who possessed the superior genes of two great families, would become the heir they wanted—100% free from outside interference.

Rick disliked politics. He had long since understood the backstabbing nature of the founding families; they were both friends and enemies to one another. They would form alliances for profit and power, and they would turn their blades against each other for even greater power and profit. The leaders of the founding families were monarchs of commercial empires, and their families were the royal courts within those empires.

As the center of the Terran Confederacy's economy and politics, Tarsonis had spent the last few decades draining nutrients from other planets through dumping, land annexation, and economic sanctions to fuel its own robust growth.

The Terran Confederacy was like a pressure cooker placed over a roaring fire. Hundreds of planets like Korhal IV and Turaxis II were tossed into the pot and boiled until flesh separated from bone, until every drop of nutrition was extracted, leaving behind nothing but white skeletons.

This life, akin to that of a royal prince, left Rick feeling a profound sense of emptiness. For eighteen years, his life had been unchanging; one day was no different from the next.

Every day, he would look down from the top of the Bennett Sky Tower at the bustling city of Tarsonis, watching as hundreds of skyscrapers and sky towers sliced the deep blue sky of Tarsonis into jagged teeth.

But just like every city in the Terran Confederacy, behind the magnificent skyscrapers lay miles of sprawling slums. Beneath the glorious, beautiful buildings was a gray expanse—a place where rivers of industrial wastewater converged, piled high with discarded parts and the trash thrown away by those in the upper echelons.

People who never saw the sun lived in shacks built from scrap metal. This miserable hell on earth within the Terran Confederacy teetered on the edge of law and morality.

Rick knew the slums were where the poor lived, and he knew how painful their lives must be, but it all felt so unreal to him—just like the bustling Tarsonis outside his window, neither was something he could truly touch.

If Rick had been the only heir to the family, he asked himself, he might have been able to endure this life, because sooner or later he would take charge of the Bennett family and eventually gain his freedom. But he had an older sister who was far more outstanding than him, skilled in corporate management, and already confirmed as the undisputed heir to the family.

Rick's future life was dim from that point on. He would not receive any starports or space stations under the family name, all to avoid the fragmentation of family assets and power.

After his father decided to have Rick marry the noble daughter of another family to secure a political marriage—even though the young lady was beautiful and charming, judging by her photos and portraits—Rick, unwilling to be shackled, resolutely fled his home. He hid his identity as a member of the Bennett founding family of Tarsonis and joined the Marine Corps under an alias, determined to pursue a future of his own.

"Why the long face? Smile a little." Augustus noticed that Rick's expression looked off.

Rick knew he must have looked terrible.

"From now on, Third Platoon, First Squad is your home," Augustus said. "We are all your brothers-in-arms."

After Rick Kidd was assigned to the First Squad, the unit reached thirteen men, which already exceeded the standard authorized strength.

The sniper badge on Rick's chest and the slender, elegant FN-92 Sailor sniper rifle slung over his shoulder made the other soldiers in the squad, especially Raynor, incredibly envious, though Rick still appeared quite reserved in front of everyone.

After spending some time together, even though Rick didn't want to discuss his family, Harnack concluded that he came from a noble or wealthy merchant family—because he didn't even know how to curse properly.

Upon learning that Augustus had been promoted to Private First Class, everyone in the squad was overjoyed, even though they had been mentally prepared for it. Private First Class was the transitional rank from soldier to non-commissioned officer, which meant Augustus would likely be promoted to Corporal at the same speed.

Following the surprise came an irrepressible sense of pride. In the two-plus months they had spent together at boot camp, they had come to regard Augustus as one of their own. Without a doubt, Augustus had become the soul of this combat squad.

That evening, Augustus had originally wanted to take the squad out for a big meal to celebrate his promotion, just as he had done at boot camp. Unfortunately, the 5th Battalion's base only had airdropped supply stations and the military mess hall. The battalion's kitchen staff only ever knew how to make a few dishes: stewed potatoes, vegetable soup, and boiled pork sausages.

Even then, the Marines couldn't always get food like that; most of the time, they had to settle for heat-ready meals or nutrient bars.

After training ended at 8:00 PM, while everyone else was busy with their own business—playing cards or reading e-books—Augustus was busy writing a letter to his sister and mother.

Ever since leaving Korhal, Augustus had made sure to set aside time every week to write.

As in the past, in his letters to Dorothy, Augustus never mentioned the cruelty of the battlefield or politics. He mostly wrote about the beautiful starry skies outside of Korhal and the local customs near his station. In his letters to his mother, Augustus would routinely ask about the situation at home, occasionally inquiring about his father and his revolutionary cause.

Augustus knew that such letters would make his father and mother happy.

Thanks to Lotus Root Stewed Dragon, Clement001, and Agent Rongrong for the tips. Thanks to A Dream of a Thousand Years, Yada Who Was Driven Out, Clement001, Teng Lingxiao, The Little Hero Who Cannot Be Killed, Jinghu Yejing, and Waffle Desert for the monthly tickets. Thanks for the investments and recommendation votes!

I discovered that after the writer assistant web page on the computer was updated, it doesn't auto-save. Good grief, no wonder some parts I clearly edited were still wrong.