Cecelia looked out at the dusty and blood covered travelers that sat in her small tavern wanting nothing more than a drink and a bed.  There were a few more than normal that had gathered into the protective metal walls of her establishment, meaning that she was a few steps closer to leaving the god-forsaken hellhole that she was stuck in.  That dream, though, was still at least a year away.  Until then, she knew that it was best to focus on the dangerous and rugged men that came to Volturnus of their own free will.  Their coin kept her little settlement going despite the dwindling presence of Olympia’s military on the planet.

The tavern she had built wasn’t much, in fact it could hardly be called a tavern with its rickety walls made of rusted metal and rotting wood.  The tables were nothing more than large crates the military had used to transport weapons and the beds in the smaller second room were simple pallets of straw and sand covered with moth-eaten blankets.  But what did anyone need with anything more?  It was enough for the weary adventurers, mercenaries, criminals, and soldiers who were more than willing to pay a fine sum for the little luxuries her tavern provided.  Well, as fine of a sum as one could expect on Volturnus.

Still, she really didn’t care who sought out her scrap-metal establishment.  Generals, soldiers, and bandits all sought solace at one time or another in the comforting burn of whiskey and gin.  So long as they could pay, Cecelia was not about to let high morals stand in the way of making her fortune.

Looking out over her crowd, she gave a thin-lipped smile to a few of her regulars that lived in the small settlement they had built years ago.  Of course, there weren’t many women that called the sandy wastes of Volturnus home, but that had never really bothered her.  The men left her alone so long as she poured drinks and Lindy, the only other female of the settlement, felt content to use her sandy blonde hair and full curves to make her money.  In fact, Cecelia was sure even if she wanted to go into that line of work her short brown hair, narrow face, and hard brown eyes wouldn’t bring in the kind of money a fresh bottle of whiskey could with the rabble she typically served.

“Keep drinking, boys,” she muttered to herself with a small smile at quiet conversation that mixed with the soft static of her radio.  “Give me enough gold to get to Portunes or Fontus-3.”

It was going to be a quiet night, she decided as Lindy gave her a little wink from a dark corner where she was flirting her way to cash.  With the military leaving there were fewer lockdowns that forced them to sit for hours in the settlement’s tiny bomb shelter, and even the local bandits had stopped their half-hearted attempts at raiding their town finding it easier to shell out a few coins for their drinks and thrills rather than run the risk of being shot.  It made for a hazy few months with little in the way of excitement or change.  Perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice a man that she had never seen before walk in.  Or maybe it was the dim lighting from her two single-bulb lamps that shadowed his approach.  Yet no matter the reason, just as she found herself drifting into one of her daydreams she felt the hair on her neck prickle and her body tense moments before he spoke and made her consciously aware of his presence.

“A room for the night.”

She blinked at the man for a moment, her body recovering from its instinctual rush of adrenaline while her mind pushed away the fog of her thoughts.  A room for the night.  His voice was clear and strong through a strange black helmet that gave it a mechanical edge.  She stared at its peculiar design feeling a twinge of discomfort at not being able to see the man’s face.  In her experience anyone who felt the need to mask their identity was bad news and best to be avoided.  

Careful with this one, she thought as she let her eyes drift down his body, taking in the black and grey synthetic suit that covered every inch of his body.  She had hoped to see an insignia or mark that would identify at least if he was part of the military or a bandit clan, but there was nothing on the armor that she at least recognized as significant.  Instead all she was left with was a distinct sense of danger as he looked down at her, his lean frame starkly different from the steroid infused jarheads from the military. 

“It’s a common room,” she heard herself say as her eyes moved from his body to the sniper rifle and plasma blade that hung from his back.  They were a far cry from the military-issued weapons that circulated the desolate planet, making the man’s presences seem even more ominous.

The man appeared to be thinking as a silver hologram flashed across the faceplate of his mask.  Swallowing a gasp of surprise, she stared at glowing frown before it disappeared.  It was an odd bit of technology that she had never seen used before, but her curiosity did little to ease the discomfort that was building in her.  In fact, it made her more wary of the man that he would choose to use a mask to communicate rather than words or actual body language.  Clearly, he had something to hide.

“It’s all I got,” she said carefully, letting her hand drift to her side and rest on her gun.  “So if it’s not to your standards I don’t need no trouble.  You can have yourself and drink and find your way out.”

The stranger’s mask fell blank as he stood there, his black helmet looking down at her without any hint of what the man was thinking.  She wanted to look away from the mask, but she didn’t dare.  He was not her normal type of customer leaving her completely unable to guess at his intentions or how he would react to unfavorable news.  For all she knew he might pull his plasma blade from his back and demand something she could not give.  This man is dangerous.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the stranger slowly bobbed his head to show that he would take the room.  Cecelia felt a wave of relief fill her as he pulled out a few bills from the belt he wore around his waist and threw them on the counter.  She quickly scooped up her fare as he moved into the darkness of what she liked to call her little hotel, leaving nothing but the soft buzz of talk from her regulars. 

 “I don’t know who you are,” she muttered to herself as she stared after him.  “And I don’t very much care as long as you don’t be causing any trouble in my tavern.”

The warning, of course, went unheard by the newest addition to her crowd that night, but it made her feel better to say it anyways.  It was pretty hard these days to cause her senses to go on high alert, but in a matter of a few minutes, he had made her hair prickle, her heart beat wildly, and her hand to tense around the worn handle of her gun.  It was an omen, surely, of what this man’s purposes were on Volturnus; Danger, death, and money.  She didn’t quite trust that this masked man would discriminate between his goals and people that he viewed as an annoyance.

“The sooner he’s out of town the better,” she said sternly, nodding her head at her own wisdom.  Yet despite her misgivings and innate suspicion, the night passed on quietly.  Soon she found herself back in the monotonous routine of pouring drinks and listening to the same old stories from her patrons that she almost forgot about the mysterious man and the rush of fear she had felt.  It wasn’t until darkness had fully settled across the Volturnian deserts and she had pushed the last drinker from her bar that she looked towards the common room.  It was silent, as it had been all night, soothing the last bit of uneasiness the encounter had left in her.

“And he’ll be gone by morning,” she said to the empty bar as she went about her routine of locking away her earnings.  “No one stays long and he definitely isn’t the type to linger.” 

Completing her final inspection of the bar, she moved towards a dark back corner filled with boxes and crates.  To most it would look like nothing more than a simple stack of supplies, allowing her to easily conceal the small hatch that opened to the little room she called home. She was sure most of the residents of their settlement knew where her living space was, but it was hidden just enough that those passing through would have to be looking for it to find the entrance.  Not that it mattered if they did.  She had little of value, but she did enjoy her privacy at night, especially the kind that came from the complete darkness of being underground. 

Glancing around one last time, she carefully opened the door and dropped down into the small space that held little more than a bed.  She let the darkness swallow her as she secured the hatch so that no one could open it from the outside while she slept, giving her a sense of security and calm as she let her eyes adjust to the near blackness of her room.  Yet, just as she felt the weariness from another long day leave her body she sensed that something was not quite right.  The urge to run or scream filled her, but before she could do either of those things a gloved hand found her mouth while another wrapped her arms.

Immediately, she began to thrash against the lean body that held her tightly, causing the grip to grow stronger.  She cried out, but even to her own ears it was muffled and inaudible, the hand effectively gagging her.

“Shh,” the owner of the hands whispered in her ear, the feeling of a hard mask against the skin of her face revealing who her attacker was. 

Tears crept to her eyes as his hand holding her arms moved to her side and removed her gun from its holster.  The tears began to trickle a hot path down her dusty face as he forcefully spun her to face him, his hand holding her mouth adjusting to maintain its position while the other pushed her body into his.  She could feel his chest rising calmly as he moved her in the direction of the far wall.  It was almost soothing the way it rose rhythmically as he moved so that she was stuck between him and cheap excuse for a bed. 

If he’s going to kill me, I hope he makes it quick, she thought blandly to herself, as defeat and acceptance relaxed her muscles and slowed the impulses of adrenaline.  She was trapped.  There was no way around it.  The man was bigger and stronger than she could ever hope to be and no amount of fighting would change that.  Her only hope of survival was that he would do something stupid or let her live, though she doubted either would happen.

A few more tears left her eyes as they stood in complete silence, the darkness surrounding them feeling heavy and suffocating.  Finally, the man cut through the void with a long sigh that Cecelia had heard many times from her various patrons.  It was the sound of impatience with the never changing world.  It was frustration at the endless dunes of sand and the dwindling money that came with the Olympia’s military abandoning their base.  It was exasperation at the utter dullness that consumed every life on Volturnus.

She held her breath as his sigh died in the darkness, the silence falling around them again.  She could hear the beating of her heart in her ears as the seconds passed until he sighed again, speaking as his hand loosening its hold ever so slightly over her mouth.  “All this sitting and waiting.  It is all in vain.”

“What are you waiting for?” she asked quietly, her voice remaining even despite the nervous contractions of her muscles.  His own responded as she felt him move his head to look down at her.  She felt him shrug as he sighed again.

You might survive this yet, she thought as his breathing grew deeper and his hold on her lightened.  Just keep him distracted.

“Who are you?”

The man made a small noise as he shifted.  Yet just as she was about to ask another question she no longer felt his grip on her arms as the heat from his body completely disappeared.  She looked around to see where he had gone to, but there was nothing in the darkness.  Not a shape or a shadow, or even a small noise that would give away where he was.  The room was empty and the man was gone, leaving only her racing heart and quick breathing to break the silence.  Was it a dream?

Just as the thought passed through her mind she felt the cool metal against her face, his body reappearing as suddenly as it had left.  A small gasp escaped her as he grabbed her hands again.  “Who are you?” she asked fearfully.

“A ghost,” his deep mechanical voice answered.  “Watching and waiting.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Again, he shrugged, the leather of his suit pulling at the bare skin of her arms as he released his hold of her and sank onto the bed without a word.  For a moment she thought about running to the hatch and trying to open it before he could move from his position, but something told her that she wouldn’t make it.  She then thought about using the advantage of her standing to strike him over the head with something, but there was nothing in her room that was close enough to her to act as a club.  So instead she just watched him, his body a dark shadow in the nearly black room that almost looked more pitiful than dangerous.

It seemed like an eternity she stood there, not moving and silent before he finally sighed and moved onto the bed as if he were lying down to sleep.  What is he doing? she wondered as she heard a strange clicking noise, followed by the clunk of something falling to the ground.  Then came the familiar sound of a gun being secured and set on the ground next to the bed.

I might live through this, her mind whispered hopefully, ignoring the thought of what his strong hands alone could do to something vulnerable, like her throat. 

In an attempt to feed her hope, she strained to hear what he was doing, listening to the sliding sound of leather being pulled across skin followed by it unceremoniously dropping to the floor.  She couldn’t help but wonder if he was naked in her bed or if he still had some clothing on underneath his suit.  She assumed he didn’t just for the fact that the armor most likely was stifling enough without an extra layer of clothes.  Still, her mind foolishly began to conjure images of what this man might look like.  Was his face scarred and mangled from whatever it was that he did on Volturnus?  Or was it smooth and fine due to the protection the mask provided?  Did his ribs poke out through his skin like many of the malnourished men she had seen naked, or did the armor really show what was underneath?  Was he muscular and lean and strong, like a man should be?

Just as the thoughts crossed her mind she stopped them, anger filling her at wondering about her attacker’s body when he still was only a few feet away.  You should run, she told herself sternly, but her feet wouldn’t move.  This is stupid, you should get out of here and get a gun.

Still, she remained where she was, watching the darkness while her ears tried to determine what the strange man was doing as his movements stilled.  Silence pounded through her ears, her heart adding its own rhythm to the nervous song in her head.  She waited for a sign of what was to come.  Would it be her doom or was she free to go?  Was the man deranged, or merely looking for a solitary place to sleep?  He hadn’t harmed her.  In fact, other than maybe leaving a bruise or two with his grip, he hadn’t even attempted to touch her.  It was as if she had ceased to exist to him.  Maybe he had left again, disappearing into the darkness like magic or, as he said, a ghost. 

You should go, she told herself again as the silence became unbearable, when suddenly a soft patting sound brought her acutely back to the room.  Holding her breath, she listened.  It sounded as if he were beckoning her to the bed.  Is this a choice?

The question swam through her head as the noise stopped and silence fell between them.  She could easily go the hatch and leave.  She knew where it was and would have no trouble navigating the dark of her personal space, but would he let her?  Was he letting her go to choose if she wanted to stay or was he merely directing her to what he wanted in a non-violent way?

Only one way to find out, she thought, clenching her jaw tight and turning from the bed. 

It only took ten steps to reach the hatch, but there were no sounds of him following her or rushing after her to make her stop.  She knew he was watching her in the darkness, she could feel his eyes following her every move.  It would be impossible for him not to know that she meant to leave.  If he wanted to stop her and force her to stay for whatever purpose now would be the time, but as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching for the latch he never moved.  He was silently lying in her bed, allowing her to leave.  Why isn’t he doing anything?  Isn’t he going to stop me? 

As if to answer her question, the stranger let out a small sigh that was almost too quiet to hear.  This one was different than the others.  Rather than being filled with impatience and frustration, this was the sound of disappoint.  Or boredom, she thought blandly, a feeling of empathy filling her as all of the tiresome nights of travelers and bandits, soldiers and mercenaries swam through her mind.   It was all so boring, day in and day out.  Gunfire no longer held any suspense other than the momentary adrenaline of what usually turned out to be a sad attempt by bandits.  Nor were the men passing through any better.  They all had the same stories, with the same motivations.  Blood, money, violence, and fame.  That’s what they all wanted and that’s what they all got to some degree or another.  Hell, they even looked the same, with their big muscles and scrunched faces, or starved bodies and crazed eyes.  It was boring.

But as she ran through all the reasons she should leave and ignore the overwhelming urge of curiosity and excitement, her feet carried her away from the hatch and back to the bed.  She didn’t even acknowledge what she had chosen to do until she felt the roughness of her sheets against her exposed forearms as she stretched out on the bed in nervous anticipation.

The man must have been surprised, too, by her choice as his breathing increased enough that she could hear its quick inhales and long exhales.  She almost dared to believe that she felt the bed move ever so slightly as if he were unsure of what to do now that she was there.  For a few long seconds, they seemed to hang in the balance.  Each waiting for signs of what the other was going to do in the blackness of her room. 

Cecelia felt her body shiver as her mind anticipated what his skin would feel like and how he would touch her.  It had been so long since she had even been alone in a bedroom with a man, let alone in a bed, that she continued to ignore the screams of her gut telling her to run.  Instead, she focused on what it would be like for him to grab her and explore the small curves of her body giving her the stimulation she desired.  She pictured his hands slowly tracing along her skin, making every nerve fire in succession as he teased her before letting her feel him and the sweet pressure he would fill her with.

A small moan escaped her lips as the excitement of her own thoughts made her blood hot and her skin tingle.  A shift in the bed made it worse, her senses dying for a touch that seemed to be just moments from coming and yet would never arrive.  Next to her, she could feel the coolness of his breath as he stayed on his side of the bed, his body just inches from hers.  Please, she begged silently.  Please, just do it.  Please!

The anticipation built as her body warmed and tensed, her pulse dancing through her veins in an uneven, speeding pace, while her mind thought of every possibility of what could happen when she finally felt his hand on her forearm.  The world seemed to stop as her mind raced with the warmth of his touch and the roughness of his palms.  She waited, wondering what he would do next all the while begging for him to touch her more, to discover what her softer areas felt like and make her feel like a woman instead of just another piece of Volturnian scum.

He moved again, the bed making a creaking noise as he shift his weight so that he was right next to her, the heat of his body pulsing through her clothes.  Cecelia closed her eyes, listening to his barely detectable movements as the bed made small noises that gave him away.  She could feel her heart against her chest as his hand moved from her arm up towards her neck, tugging at the vest and the collar of her shirt with obvious instruction.  Without a second thought she reached for the bottom of her dirty shirt and quickly pulled it over her head, taking the vest with it.  Lying still again, she waited to see where he would go, what he would touch next.

The stranger breathed deeply next to her, his body moving to be as close to hers without touching.  She could feel his palm hovering over her stomach, as if unsure where to touch or if even to touch her when he suddenly came up to her face, his fingertips lightly brushing their way towards her ear and down her neck.  A shiver ran through her as the trail he made seemed to burst into flames, making the rest of her body crave more.  She couldn’t contain a ragged breath as he continued his path along her clavicle and between her breasts, coming to a stop at the edge of her pants, waiting for her to make the next move.

Cecelia didn’t waste another second.  Quickly she moved to pull off the offending clothing, kicking off her boots and socks so that she was completely exposed to the darkness of the room, her hair on her skin standing up at the sudden coolness.  She waited for him in what had quickly become a game of senses, craving for his fingers to find her skin again.

She didn’t have long to wait, as the stranger seemed barely to contain his own desire, his hand moving to her stomach, his palms and fingers moving across its smooth expanse in swirling motions.  A familiar need began to fill her as he let his hands move up her breasts, brushing them gently as he passed only to circle his way down to as far as he could go without touching her most sensitive area. 

A strangled moan pushed against her lips as he felt her, her mouth barely keeping shut to smother the noise.  The man stopped, the dark outline of his head moving to look at her.  She felt herself begin to form the words that her body screamed at her to say, her tongue began to move to beg him to keep going and not to stop when he suddenly was on top of her, his lean body pushing against hers so that she could feel his hardness against her ready opening.  Electricity seemed to course through her as she felt the strong muscles of his stomach against her softness, his hands entwining hers and holding them above her head as he pushed into her, releasing the pressure and desire that had been building inside of her.

She moaned, this time unable to quiet it as his breathing became ragged and he jerked in and out of her, his thrusts hard and deep at first and then slowing so that they teased at her, making her legs shake and her hips to move.  The darkness soon became filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, skin hitting skin, and a few unintelligible noises from each of them.  He let his body slowly lower on to hers, so that she could feel his chest move against hers as he thrust, his face buried in her hair near her ear.  Her hands gripped at his back, pushing him to her, urging him to keep going, to move faster and deeper as her body neared the edge.  With each thrust his breathing got shorter and louder, his lips moving to her ear and gently kissing them before taking it into his mouth and sucking.  The sensation was too much for her, as she felt a wave of bliss move up her body, her face burying itself into his shoulder as a small noise of satisfaction left her.

Her body stiffened as her grip tightened around him causing him to push into her faster and hard until finally he let out a small gasp and stopped save for a few small strokes.  Collapsing on her, she savored the feeling of his breathing, his chest pushing against hers, his hair sweaty against her hot face.  It was a long time before either of them moved again, but finally the stranger pulled away from her, moving back to his side of the bed without a word.  Grabbing the covers, Cecelia covered them both before rolling over and letting herself drift off to sleep.

 

~

 

She knew it was morning by the sounds of movement above her head.  As always, Jack, one of the settlers she was closest to, opened up the tavern in the morning and made some noise so as to wake her.  Rolling to her side, she reached out to feel her companion from the night before, but felt only emptiness beside her.  Confused, she sat up and quickly reached around the floor for the little flashlight she kept handy for when she didn’t bring a lamp down with her.  Flipping it on, it was clear immediately that the man had left and had taken all signs of his being there with him.

“What did you really expect?” she muttered as she pulled herself out of bed and quickly dressed.  She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved to have him be gone already, but she did know that she felt the best she had in months, maybe even years.  Climbing up her ladder, she smiled at the unlatched lock before climbing from her room and out into the tavern.

Jack gave her a smile and a nod, moving towards the door of her establishment as he always did.  “Thanks, Jack,” she called, making her way to the bar when she noticed a folded slip of paper lying on a nearby table.

“No problem, Cee,” her friend called back, leaving her alone as he went to focus on his own day.

She waited until he had left and the door had shut behind him before moving to paper and carefully unfolding it.  Looking at it, she couldn’t help but laugh at her own fortune and misfortune and everything in between as she stared at the picture of the strange masked man, the words Wanted Dead for Assassination lining the top, while the bottom held the largest bounty she had ever seen.  With a small disbelieving laugh filled, she wasn’t sure that knowing that all the money to her problems and dreams had been laying next to her would have made any difference one way or the other.

2: Sancus

The Olympic Alliance was weakening.  Of that much President Marrow Wilson was sure.  They were in a major deficit that some were claiming would be the downfall of the galaxy, there was fighting amongst Alliance officials and nothing was getting down in the council, and even the new weapons they had been testing on Volturnus had proved to be nothing but a failure leaving them no closer to making the next giant leap in technology. 

And those Ursa bastards are probably on the edge of something, he groaned to himself, rubbing his brow in frustration.

It had been nearly a decade since he had been elected president of the Olympia Galaxy, promising to lead and protect the descendents of the humans that had once occupied the civilized west.  Yet that was ages ago, when democracy meant every creature had a vote and the greatest fear was nothing more than an atom bomb.  Still, the ideological tensions of the long dead Earth still existed in the political and sometimes military struggles against the Ursa Republic.  It had been that way for centuries and nothing was going to change that.

Looking up, he stared out the large glass windows that overlooked Sancus’ capital city, taking in the colorful towers that sparkled in the sun like jewels on a crown.  That had been the idea, at least, when the Alliance’s founders had created the city.  It was the crown jewel of the galaxy, shining brightly in the principles of freedom, democracy, and justice.  In reality, the beauty was more to keep most people blind to the corruption and tyranny that kept the galaxy functioning.

“President Wilson?” came a soft knock from the door.  “You’re four-thirty is here.”

“Thanks, Rose.  Send them in,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair as if he hadn’t a care in the world.  In his time in office he had learned not to let anyone truly know how you felt or what you were thinking.  That was the fastest way to having some sort of scandal created, leading to a political ousting or a bullet in your head.

Silently, he watched the large ornate doors to his office open, letting in a young brunette dressed in a business suit that seemed to melt onto her toned body.  President Wilson remembered the first time he was introduced to the she-devil at his inauguration dinner, thinking she was nothing more than a pair of legs that had the good fortune of being the heiress of one of the largest corporations in galaxy.  He quickly learned that things that looked the sweetest were often the most poisonous.

“President Wilson,” she said as she crossed the room, her high heels clicking imperiously as her fat little assistant trotted behind her.  “I’m glad you were able to make room for us in your busy schedule on such short notice.”

“Ms. Overlind,” he said, standing to offer her his hand, “I always have time for you and Atlas Corp.”

She gave him a dazzling smile that was all scarlet lipstick and dimples.  He knew she could bat her eyes into almost anything she wanted.  Hell, he had seen steal ideas from rival companies with a few well-placed laughs and light touches on an engineer’s leg during the galas he threw.  If he hadn’t been in his fifties when he was elected, he was sure he would have fallen prey to the same sort of persuasions. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. President.  And might I say that you are looking particularly dashing today?  I have always liked a mature looking man with a little bit of silver in his hair.”

That was the biggest lie he had heard all day.  He had bags under his eyes that he wouldn’t doubt were permanent and his once thick dark hair was thin and graying.  He looked anything but fine, and he had half the mind to tell her so as he grew impatient with her flattery.  Instead, he settled for the less confrontational response, avoiding any unnecessary entanglements with the woman.  “What is it that you and your father need today?”

She faltered a little at his tired tone, but continued on with her sickly-sweet smiles and suggestive looks.  “I want permission to take a team into the outer planets.”

“The outer planets?  Why?”

“We want to conduct some research, but need a permit to leave the galaxy.”

President Wilson gave her a long stare, wishing that she wasn’t so skilled at that damned doe-eyed innocent look she liked to put on.  “Regina, let’s cut the bullshit,” he finally said.  “It’s no mystery that your company already breaks that law by flying into the Ursa Galaxy to do business.  Now why the hell would you come bothering me for something like a permit when you clearly don’t care about the laws and if you did you would have to go to the permit’s office just like everyone else.”

“My, my, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” she said with her infuriating smile.  “I was hoping, if we are going to be getting right down to business, to also entice the Alliance to help fund our little venture.”

“You know as well as I do that the Alliance is near broke.  What sort of money do you think I can get for you from the council?”

“The kind that comes with Atlas Corp providing you with the next age of weapons, Mr. President.  Something that will give you an edge over the Republic.”

“And you’re getting this from the outer planets?  Those are prison planets and slums inhabited by thugs and bandits.  I don’t see what sort of research you’ll get done there unless you’re testing your weapons on the locals, which I certainly can’t condone.”

“I’m surprised you would think we would ever do something like that!” she replied, her perfect lips falling into a look of complete horror.

“Again, cut the bullshit, Regina.  You and I both know that the outbreak of psychopathic midgets on Adranus was due to your testing of water purification.  That’s the reason why we had to start using the outer planets to house the insane!”

“You don’t truly believe, Mr. President, that my father would ever test the use of a neurotoxin and teratogen on the public?  Our documents clearly showed that we had good laboratory results with those purification systems and that it was some chemical naturally found on the planet that led to such a horrible outbreak of physical and mental birth defects.  Why, even the courts agreed that we had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

“And the judge in that trial has been living a long and happy retirement since the case.”

“I wouldn’t complain too much, Mr. President.  Your predecessor used our failed purification devices to make some very useful genetic weapons.”

“I would complain less had those weapons managed to stay in the Alliance and not somehow find their way into the Republic despite there being a travel ban outside of our galaxy and despite the fact that there aren’t many people that own ships that can travel that far.”

“What are you implying, Mr. President?  That Atlas Corp is not completely loyal to the Olympic Alliance?  That we are traitors?”

He could tell by the way her green eyes were sparkling that she hoped he would say yes.  Probably wearing a recording device, he thought angrily, knowing that the press would have a field day of him accusing the company that employed nearly twenty percent of the population of treachery.  That was the kind of bad publicity that often led to your allies hiring an assassin to remove you from office before any more damage was done. 

“No,” he started with a sigh, “I’m not saying that at all.  I know Atlas Corp is completely loyal to the Alliance and has contributed greatly to making our galaxy a prosperous one.  Still, I need more information about these weapons you are researching and what the research entails.”

Regina leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms.  She can do intimidating too, the president thought blandly as she stared him down.  It wasn’t surprising considering the kind of influence she and her father had over the running of the galaxy.  Even if he had all the power in name he knew that the real power was in companies like Atlas Corp and Cerberus Tech who controlled most of the money that drifted in and out of his treasury.  Silently, he chided himself for talking to freely with the succubus heiress and tried to look more open to what she was proposing.

“Are you a religious man, Mr. President?  Do you believe in the supremacy of humans by the right of God?”

“I do, yes.  Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t,” she said, standing from her seat and moving towards the window.  “I look out at this great city the Alliance has built and I can see the greatness in our race, but I cannot believe that we are the only intelligent creatures in this vast universe.  I don’t care if we found no trace of them when we left Earth or we haven’t seen them in the thousands of years since.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“How can you not believe there is more out there when you look up at the sky and see the billions of stars?” she continued, ignoring his question.  “Who’s to say that some other race of beings have already come and gone to the places we have been.  Maybe we’re just a few thousands years behind in traveling and will eventually catch up with the other creatures once enough stars have blown up forcing us to keep moving.”

“We have a long time before that happens to any of the systems in our galaxy.”

“Naturally, yes.”

“What are you suggesting?” the president said slowly, sitting up in his chair as nervous knot began to build in his stomach.  “Are you saying you have the technology to destroy a star?”

She looked at him, but gave nothing away as she returned to her seat.  “Are you afraid of that technology?”

“It would be for us what the nuclear warhead was to the Earth humans.  Of course I fear that kind of technology.  Tensions are tight enough as it is, we don’t need something that could kill off entire planets to be added to our arsenal.  It will only make matters worse.”

“Even if it’s a planet of criminals?  You wouldn’t agree to bringing final justice to men and women convicted of horrible crimes?”

“No.  Mass murder is never right, even if it’s of felons.  If this is what you are asking me to do then I have to say no.”

She gave him a long look before smiling again.  “Oh we were just speaking in hypotheticals.  We are no where near creating that kind of technology.  But more to the point, the reason we want to go to the outer planets is to recover some interesting artifacts my great-great-grandfather’s great-great-grandfather found.  He secured it in a compound on one of the planets until we had the technology to fully investigate and test what he found.  I believe we have that technology now.”

“What sort of artifacts?”

“Ah, yes, well seeing as how you’re a godly man you might not be so willing to believe me when I say that it is of non-human creation.”

He stared at her dumbfounded.  “Do you mean to tell me that your family stumbled upon some alien artifacts in an outer planet nearly three centuries ago and this is the first anyone has heard of it?”

“Family secrets are family secrets,” she answered with a shrug.

“You really expect me to believe that?  That your family, out of all the people in this galaxy, found the only evidence ever in the history of humans that we aren’t the only intelligent creatures in this universe?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mr. President, and I’m quite serious about it.  So I would ask that you try not to look too amused.”

“I’m sorry,” he said through a laugh as he thought of how preposterous her statement sounded.  “I’m more willing to believe you can make a sun go supernova over finding alien technology.”

“And why is that?”

“Because,” he said, composing himself.  “If there was life out there someone would know something about it.  Actually, multiple someones would know.  We have probed the universe every step of our journey from Earth and continue to send out drones.  We would know by now if we weren’t alone.  It wouldn’t be just a little Overlind family secret.”

“Perhaps I was wrong coming to you for funding.  Maybe I should do as you accuse and go to the Republic to find what I need,” she said standing.  It was clear that she was upset by the cold look in her eyes as she watched him.  “But you’ll regret not taking me seriously.”

“Regina, I know how all this works.  We’ve been playing these games for years.  Even in the worst of times you win, but this is just ridiculous.  Either you take me for a complete fool that will believe your story or you’re lying about what you really want in the outer planets.  So no, today I win.  Tell your father not to bother me with idiotic stories again.”

“So be it,” she answered, moving towards the door.  “Think I’m crazy if you want, but in the end we’ll see who truly is the crazy one.”

“Good-bye, Ms. Overlind,” he said without ceremony, happy to see the horrible woman leave. 

As the door thudded shut, he felt the heavy weight that had been plaguing him most of the day slide from his shoulders.  Glancing down at the papers that lined his desk, he decided that they could wait for the next day.  This was the best he had felt in nearly a year and he wasn’t about to lose the giddy feeling of triumph over signing his name to things he personally disagreed with.  “A beer and a some television,” he said to himself as he gathered up his things and made his way from his executive suit. 

Whistling an old childhood tune, the city seemed cleaner and brighter as he found his driver and began the short journey home.  Atlas Corp had been coercing him and the council into horrible decisions for years, making the continued stalemate between the Alliance and the Republic more heated than it should have been.  In his opinion, without the influence of any of the leading manufacturers and developers the human race would be united across the universe instead of at each other’s throats for an ideology that had practically died out three thousand years earlier. 

“To hell with all of them,” he spat as his driver maneuvered down streets lined with towering buildings made of glass and bright lights.  He wondered for a moment what Sancus looked like before the Alliance and humans had found it.  He knew that it had been filled with trees and lakes, but having never seen an actual forest he could only guess based on old paintings and computer images. 

“Bert,” he called up to his driver.  “Have you ever seen real trees?”

“Can’t say that I have, sir,” the normally silent man answered.  “Never been off planet.”

“I should like to see a forest, I think.  Maybe I can convince the Alliance to send me on a relations trip to some of the less populated worlds.”

Bert nodded, glancing back in the mirror at his charge, but saying nothing in way of an opinion.  It was like that with all the staff he had inherited after the last president resigned.  No one spoke unless spoken to and no one dared give an opinion.  He was sure that past presidents might have liked the silence, but he would have loved for some friendlier company.  Especially with no wife or kids waiting for him at home, having something of a friend in someone not directly involved in politics would have made the whole job of the presidency easier to handle.  Yet, things were the way they were for a reason.  He didn’t have to hear how past presidents had been killed after a servant they thought they could trust sold information to the Republic to know that his little dream would never be a reality.

Perhaps I won’t run for another term, he thought as they reached the glittering building meant to house only the highest officials in the entire galaxy.  It meant that he constantly was forced to wear his political face and play the nasty, backstabbing games that came with government in the one place he should by all rights be allowed to relax. 

“Keep your enemies close,” he muttered to himself as waved his driver off and quickly was ushered into the building by his security.  It was ironic how much money the Alliance paid to keep him safe from external threats when in reality it was the friends living only a few doors down that most likely would hurt him through destroying his reputation for their own gain. 

Easier to stop a bullet than a bit of deceitful press, he thought as he rode the elevator to the penthouse suite that had been his home for nearly ten years.  Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone in the halls, allowing him to forego the normal act of pretending to be friendly with his neighbors. 

Entering his home, he ignored the startled chatter of the staff who rarely saw him before the late hours of night.  He waved them on with their business, moving to the kitchen for a beer before retreating to the large study the Alliance insisted he have in order to do work from home.  Though tonight, he had no intention of doing anything that resembled work as he flopped listless down in a plush leather chair that he rarely had a chance to use.  It was comfortable, he decided, lamenting that the life he had chosen kept him from enjoying the smaller things in life.  “Politics are overrated,” he said as he opened his drink and tasted the cool barely for the first time in years.  “Now this is what living is all about.”

He shut his eyes, letting his mind wander to what his life would have been like if he had made a few different choices.  The most obvious one would have been never to have never accepted the nomination by his party to be a candidate for President of the Olympic Alliance.  He would likely still be working as a lobbyist, not caring about anything but the welfare of his employer, Viggo Incorporated.  Yet even before that, he had made a few choices that at the time didn’t seem like much, but had very clear consequences years later.

“Miranda Gibbons,” he muttered to himself, thinking of the young blonde woman he had met while studying at the one of the most prestigious universities on Fontus-2.  She had been so full of life and carefree, her laugh and smile making him feel like the galaxy was a simple place with simple problems easily fixed.  She had made him a better man, but that hadn’t matter when the job offer came in from Viggo.  He had ended their relationship just at the point where they could have gone all the way with the excuse that the life of a lobbyist was not a good one for a family.  That much he still believed to be true as he used his own good looks to soften the opinions of many Alliance officials, but still, now that he was old and grey he was utterly alone.  He had no one in his life that he could truly confide in or be comforted by when things were going wrong.  He had no children to take pride in or even a pet to play with.  He was truly alone, carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders with no way to ease the burden.

He leaned back in his chair and took another long drink as he thought of all the things he missed out on in life.  It was somewhere in his fantasy that involved a little four-bedroom apartment and the laughter of a son that he realized the house seemed awfully quiet.  Too quiet, in fact.  There were no footsteps moving down the halls or the sound of the maids cleaning.  Even the little beeps from his security’s communication devices wasn’t breaking the silence outside his door.

Slowly he opened his eyes, the hair on his neck standing on end.  Looking around everything seemed in place, but just as he turned to rise he spotted him.  It was a man, tall and lean, dressed in nothing but black and grey synthetic armor and an odd black helmet with a dark faceplate that masked his features.  The President dropped his beer and jumped up from his chair, but the man didn’t move.  He didn’t even move as Marrow tried the old communication device on his desk, only to find that it wasn’t transmitting.

“Oh God!” he cried as the stared at him, a menacing plasma sword glowing softly in his hand.  “Who are you?  Who sent you?”

The man said nothing as he moved forward, his steps graceful and silent.  The President stumbled back from his desk, his steps only stopping when he reached the wall.  “Please!  You don’t have to do this,” he begged as the man glided towards him.  “I can double whatever you’ve been paid!”

The assassin stopped, his head turning a little to the side as if he were considering the request.  President Wilson glanced about the room, looking for anything that might be used to help him, but there was nothing that would be able to block a plasma blade, let alone overcome a trained assassin.  Turning back to the man, he waited to see what he would do, hoping that he would take the bribe and leave. 

“What does man love more than life?” the assassin suddenly said, his voice slightly mechanical sounding under the mask.  “What does he fear more than death?  The poor have it and the rich require it while the content desire it?”

The President stared at the silent assassin, unsure of what was going on.  “Here, you just tell me how much money you want,” he tried again.  “I can get you whatever you want.”

“What does man love more than life, fear more than death, that the poor have while the rich require, and is all that the content truly desire?  What does miser spend and the squanderer save?  What do all men carry to their graves?”

 “I don’t know!” he shouted as the assassin’s shoulders dropped a little.  “Why are you asking me a riddle?  Just name your price and leave!”

The masked man sighed as he raised his sword, his body moving to attack.  President Wilson squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look as a sharp pain burned through his shoulder and into his chest.  Behind the pain he felt strangely dizzy and light as something warm seemed to cover his body.  It almost felt as if he were falling and floating at the same time, the stinging pain waxing and waning as warmth and cold took hold of his limbs.  Daring to open his eyes, his vision flashed between looking up at the assassin from where he was slumped against the wall, and staring at the man from above, his body lifeless beneath him.

The assassin hung his sword across his back as he drew out a small cylinder.  It looked like nothing more than a piece of glass to Marrow, but when is vision shifted it seemed to be sparking with some sort of energy.  All at once he felt drawn to the strange thing and fearful of it.

“Nothing,” the assassin said as he too began to shift from a solid, physical being to something more energetic and glowing.  He stopped looking at the body at his feet and turned to stare at the spot the President was floating.  He lifted up the glass cylinder and the light began to glow brightly, pulling whatever was left of the leader of the Alliance towards it. 

The President tried to resist the pull, but it was too strong.  Beneath him he could see his body growing pale as the blood seeped out of the massive wound, the realization that he was dead fully hitting him.  Yet somehow the assassin could see him there, or at least see his spirit or ghost or whatever he was now.  All he knew is that he was powerless to stop himself from being pulled into the glowing cylinder. 

He sent a prayer to God, asking for deliverance as his soul began to be absorbed into the glass.  The assassin sighed as the process was nearly complete, his voice saying the last thing the President would ever hear. 

“The answer is nothing.”