The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422 Safe

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He stood up and walked to the window, watching the sun sink below the horizon, and felt the strange, profound weight of a day that had been both endless and entirely worth it.

Twenty–three years.

Still standing.

At seven that evening, Maverick was gathering his things to head home and finally sleep when his device rang.

He glanced down at the screen. His wife, Joan Jensen.

He answered with a light tone. “Hey, honey. I was just about to head back…”

“Maverick.” Joan’s voice cut through his. Something in it was off, somewhere between strained and flat, impossible to read precisely. “After work, come to Mom and Dad’s.”

Something cold dropped through his chest.

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“What’s going on?”

“Dad wants to talk to you.” A brief pause. “You’ll find out when you get here.”

He started to ask again, but she’d already ended the call.

Maverick stood in his office holding the device, a quiet, crawling unease spreading through him.

His father–in–law wanted to see him.

Dilfus Buckner, Joan’s father, had been a minor official out in some backwater sector before retirement. He’d never held any real power, but he carried himself like he had.

He’d always treated Maverick with a certain surface–level courtesy, the kind that acknowledged Maverick’s current position.

But underneath that courtesy was always something else, something that said you’re my daughter’s husband, and you got to where you are because of this family.

Dilfus never said it aloud. He didn’t need to. Maverick had always felt it perfectly well.

And the tone of that call just now…

The thought of Scapier surfaced immediately.

His brother–in–law had definitely seen the announcement today.

Whether that boy had actually understood what it meant was another question entirely. Probably not.

But Dilfus and his wife…

Would they believe any of it?

Maverick’s nerves twisted uncomfortably, but there was no getting out of this visit.

1/3

12:33 pm

A

Chapter 422 Safe

He gathered his things, took the elevator down, stepped into his hovercab, and gave the address.

The ride was silent.

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The Buckner family lived in a mid–range residential complex near the edge of the main sector. The apartment was modest but kept in good order.

Maverick stood at the door for a few seconds, pulled in a slow breath, and went inside.

The living room lights were harsh and bright.

Dilfus was seated in the single armchair at the center of the room, his face a deep, rigid grey.

His wife sat beside him, her eyes visibly red. She’d been crying.

Scapier was hunched in a chair in the corner, head down, expression hidden.

Joan stood to one side, and the look she gave Maverick when he walked in was layered and unreadable.

All four of them, assembled and waiting.

Whatever small flicker of hope Maverick had been carrying shattered the instant he took in the scene.

He didn’t let it show.

He arranged his face into the reliable, practiced smile and walked forward, dipping his head toward Dilfus. “ilfus. I’m here. You wanted to see me?”

Dilfus looked up.

That gaze could have cut glass. Maverick felt it rake across him/from head to foot.

“Mr. Jensen,” Dilfus said. His voice was the temperature of deep space. “I asked you here because I want to know how my good–for- nothing son ended up as the scapegoat for Interstellar Route Authority.”

The smile on Maverick’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second before he pulled it back into place.

“Dilfus, that’s not quite how I’d put it. Scapier, he really did have an error in how he handled the operation, and it put me in a very difficult position…”

“A difficult position.”

Dilfus stood up and crossed the room one step at a time.

t

Maverick had a good half head of height on his father–in–law, but under the relentless pressure of those red–rimmed eyes, he felt himself shrinking.

“Maverick.” Dilfus said his name slowly, one syllable at a time. “I ran approvals before I retired. I know exactly how those permission systems are structured. An assistant, even with access, cannot complete an approval modification independently without leaving a traceable record. And you’re telling me it was an error?”

Maverick opened his mouth.

He never got the words out.

2/3

12:33 pm

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