You’re not my dad:
Apollo straightens up from where he’s leant over the Carrier’s navigational console, turning to look at Phobos with a studiously blank expression on his face. Midnighter’s been calculating odds all week on whether the clone intends to destroy him, but the Sun King’s instincts remain tentatively hopeful. Tilting his head, he lets Phobos attempt a full sentence before tactfully interjecting.
“– you’re low on Solar Energy.” He finishes for the younger metahuman, mouth twitching at the corner in a near-smile. Apollo had sensed as much, feeling how the radiant light from his clone had grown diminished in the past few days. He beckons, lifting off the ground and preceding Phobos down the hallway, towards the lifts for the upper decks of the shiftship. “…follow me.”
The Carrier is approximately 30 miles in length, but she rarely forces the people living within her walls to travel that distance. In a relatively short time, Apollo and Phobos arrive at a level of the ship with towering walls of organic, semi-transparent material, looking like the thin flesh of a batwing. The Sun King sails down this hallway, leading them both to a branching outcove that extends like a bubble from the main body of the Carrier. Its roof is entirely transparent, facing the distant surface of the Earth and its Sun.
“…I… assume you aren’t dependent on atmosphere, right?” Apollo asks, politely. He gestures to the clear dome around them, “….we can open this up, get closer if you really want to soak up the rays.”
Phobos wasn’t built to depend on others. He was meant to lead, to create a group of other powerful beings and destroy the Authority. No, no destroy. That was a pretty word meant to cover up programming. He was meant to kill them all. It was still difficult to escape the thought, in truth. He had set aside that mission quite easily, but in truth it was still in he back of his mind. Was this part of the plan? Was he conditioned for this very act? To get close to them? Hard to say. Even he couldn’t see everything. Not truly.
Nodding at Apollo’s assessment of his needs, Phobos lifted off the ground with him and drifted after. It was strange, looking at Apollo. Knowing that he was a clone, designed to be a better version of this man. He didn’t feel better. He looked at Apollo and felt like a diminished, small, creature. Maybe that was the sun depletion talking.
He touches down in the outcove, staring out at the sun. He could already feel the light warming him, giving him strength. It still sent shivers through his spine. “I’ve never tried leaving atmo.” Crossing his arms, he tried not to leave the room. He needed the light to live, but it still brought terrible memories. “Why would I want more?” But of course Apollo couldn’t know. How could he understand Phobos’ aversion to the light? Sighing, the young man pulled off his jacket and tossed it behind him, wanting to get his sunlight and go as quickly as possible. Cut off sleeves would make it easier.
“I’m only a few years old. So I would grow faster, I was exposed to hyper concentrated solar rays. Too much light...“ He glanced at Apollo, unsure why he was saying this. Why he was talking to the man at all. So he quickly looked away.
