Cover art by: @ricodz

ICARUS

The bold, capitalized words “LETTER OF ADMISSION: MINOS SPACE CORP” dominated my screen, a stark claim set against the cold glow of the digital background.

Haunted by the lingering tension from yesterday’s conference, I decided to rip off the band-aid. Drawing in a breath, I forwarded a screenshot of the admission letter to Dad. As I hit send, a clatter of dishes, echoed from the kitchen. Great. He was still home; better to face this head-on.

Easing out of my room, I peeped down the long, artificially lit corridor. The dutiful maid-bots were humming and bustling around, engrossed in their routine tasks. And there, in the midst of it all, was Dad; his eyes glued to his tablet, lost in a world of his own.

“Good morning,” I greeted, my voice teetering on the edge of normalcy and nervousness - the words dangling in the air like a fragile ornament.

“Morning,” he reciprocated with his gaze still locked onto his screen; a silent rebuff to my greeting.

“Dad, I sent you something—” I began, my sentence hanging in the room like a thread, but before I could weave it into a conversation, he swiftly cut me off.

“I need to apologize,” he murmured, the words rushed and indistinct. His eyes were seemingly half-focussed behind the tablet. “I…I didn’t handle things well at the conference.”

“No, Dad. I should apologize too,” I chimed in, my voice heavy with surprise and a pang of guilt. “Anyway, about that message…have you seen it?” I redirected.

His gaze flickered up from the screen, those blue eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He didn’t reply, so I rushed to fill the silence. “I need a legal guardian’s signature for it. Since I’m, uh, technically not an adult. Could you sign it for me?”

His brow furrowed. “Ic—” he began, but I rushed on, too eager to finally get the secret off my chest.

“They’ve got a couple of humanitarian projects I’m excited about. I’ve even found some ways to incorporate some of your old prototypes,” I added, the words tumbling out, trying to lure him in with my enthusiam.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting mine. They bore a strange emptiness that made my heart beat uneasily. Was he going to say no?

He opened his mouth, the corners twitching as if battling unspoken words, paused, and closed it again. After a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he broke the silence. “Icarus,” he finally said, his voice carrying a stern edge, “not MINOS. Anywhere but there.”

My excitement deflated like a balloon, swiftly replaced with a cloud of confusion and a spritz of annoyance. “Why not?” I asked, the words echoing my bewilderment.

“All I can tell you is it’s not the right fit for you,” he said, his voice a steady stream in the sea of uncertainty. “If you don’t find anything else, there’s always a spot for you at Olympus.”

“Dad, the whole point was to avoid nepotism. I don’t want you to pull any strings for me,” I retorted, frustration seeping into my voice.

I continued to stare at him, my eyes locked onto his with a silent plea for understanding. His struggle was evident in his grimace and the dull sheen in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he eventually managed to let out, as if he was dragging the word from a deep well. He gave me a weak and lopsided smile. His eyes, this time his turn, pleaded for understanding.

A knot tightened in my stomach. This was supposed to be simple. Just one signature. Why couldn’t he see that? He’s so frustrating! Mum would’ve known exactly what to do.

But Mum wasn’t here anymore, and I had to accept what was in front of me.

I sighed, deflated. “Okay, Dad. Not MINOS,” I conceded, my voice barely more than a whisper, “I’ll find something else.”

DAEDALUS

“Okay, Dad. Not MINOS,” Icarus, my little star said. The echoes of her words swept through the room, bouncing off the cold, metallic walls.

I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. I could see her yearning for independence in those sparkly eyes of hers. Icarus was bright, radiant with potential, and on a fast-track course to engineering stardom. The kid was looking to fly high without getting too close to the sun, or in this case, her old man.

Her words echoed in the room, but it was her silent disappointment that seemed to scream at me.

I let it all slip away. I watched as she grew more distant. Words of apology, of explanation, clung to my throat, always seeming out of place. Every time I tried to reach out, circumstance, fear, or even my own pride stopped me. I knew what I had to do, I just didn’t have the strength to do it. In my defense, I’d never been great at maintenance. Spaceships? Sure. Father-daughter bonds? That’s a different kind of engineering.

With a sigh heavier than a black hole, I eyed the tablet. The damning, bold words “MINOS SPACE CORP” were glaring back at me. Talk about a ghost from the past. It was like running into an ex at a supermarket, except this ex was a giant space corporation.

I admit, our friendship had been legendary. Two brilliant minds, together lighting the way to the stars. Now? A specter from my past. My biggest regret.

Minos, the Steve Jobs of space. The world saw him as a man who dared to dream beyond the stars. He was the visionary, and me? I was Wozniak, the sidekick. But hey, at least Wozniak hadn’t gotten written out of the story.

You see, Minos and I had different dreams. He had wanted an empire, an unquenchable thirst for power and recognition. I dreamed of progress, of bettering the universe one small step at a time. And when those dreams clashed, I was removed from the narrative like a typo on a blueprint.

A sense of foreboding crept over me. I had tried to shield my little girl from the harshness of our world for as long as I could. But I knew she couldn’t stay in the dark forever. She was too curious, too eager to learn, to explore. I’d have to tell her the truth someday. And let me tell you, it’s easier to land a spaceship on a comet than to navigate throught that teenage emotional minefield.

“One day, kiddo. One day you’ll understand.” I muttered to myself, hoping the universe would take a rain check on this difficult conversation.

With Icarus gone, the silence was so dense I could almost hear the dust settling. But I was determined. The fractures in our relationship were deep, but not irreparable. It was going to be tough, harder than any challenge I had faced in my career. But for my little star, it was worth it. I owed her that much.