"You know, there are certain planets where I could make good money selling intangibles. I think the Iskoort on XaXing would pay their weight in gold for some good vaguely-defined intangibles," she says, trying to elevate the mood a little again. It's difficult. You don't ever really forget you're in a jail cell poking holes in your son's unrealistic hopes.

What did everyone expect from her? What does she expect from herself? What is she supposed to do when she painfully, when she inevitably fails to meet those high standards?

It's been five years. She should be better by now. She should be the mother he wants her to be, the mother he remembers from his childhood.

"I'm sorry about all this."