Pioneers: Creation

Welcome to Midolloni City

Welcome to Midolloni City


         Air traffic control was boring.  Sitting in a small, dark space with a dozen hunched figures telling people “You may land at Gate something or another, enjoy your stay in Midolloni City,” or “You are clear for takeoff, have a nice day,” was just not what any recruit in the MMC’s police division had in mind when joining up.  There were true stories of action and adventure in the galaxy left and right, many directly involving the police, but directing everyday traffic?  No wonder the professional air traffic control guys stuck to commercial and military.


         ‘Unsung heroes,’ Som Nerrick thought as he set his head into his hand with a frown.  Wiping his free hand across his tired eyes and through his thick mop of brown hair, Som thought about the stories he’d had in his head as a child of catching some pirate ringleader or other hugely feared and hated criminal.  ‘Probably never even meet someone big time like that.’


         Som let out a wide yawn and reopened his radio line.  Best he not take too long of a break.  He wanted to impress the Lieutenant, not show him his lack of spirit and attention.


         “Midolloni City Traffic Control.  Please state your name and destination,” he said with as much excitement as he could muster - namely none.


         “Aeron naval base,” a raspy voice said as a bald man with a thin fire red beard appeared on the viewscreen.  “Petty Officer Third Class Len Hower.”  Som typed in the name and did a quick scan of the data.  The man that showed on the screen had a full head of hair and no beard, but there was no doubt they were the same.  Just a look into the strangely cold green eyes said as much.


         “I’ll need you to scan in your ID.”  Hower only nodded and looked away for a moment, presumably to scan his inserted PDT or, more likely for a military man, flash an ID card tuned to his fingerprints.  Next thing Som knew his computer was flashing ‘Identification Accepted’ on the screen.  “You may land at Gate 12, enjoy your stay in Midolloni City.”  Hower nodded.


         “Thanks,” he said before cutting the connection.


         Som sighed in depression.  He would never meet a big-time criminal.


-------------------------


         The Quicksilver towed itself slowly across the landing pad, allowing the runway controllers to guide him into whatever hangar they chose for it.  The sun was high in the blue sky, reflecting off the dark grey hull of the long, sleek ship and passenger planes made a constant stream of opposing traffic, all waiting patiently for their turn on the runway.


         None of this was of much concern to Kenshi, however.  Of course the many weapons on the ship would earn second glances and a few stories, private gunships were very much legal and common.  He was just glad the Len Hower ID still worked after the Titan.  His guess, brass was keeping everything about the incident tight - so tight that small things like the deletion of a fake ID in the system just slipped between their fingers.  It made his job easier in any case, though he would feel infinitely more comfortable once he slapped a new picture under a new name; one where he happened to be bald, have black hair and brown eyes.


         A signal from the controller told Kenshi to start slowing down.  Pulling down the tire brakes slowly, Kenshi looked at his ship’s new home for the next week and a half.  It was a fair sized hangar with two fellow ships docked inside, both privately owned luxury ships for people probably on vacation from some corporate-owned space station a system or two away.  Lucky bastards.


         Coming to a stop withing the large, dim confines of the hangar, Kenshi stood up and prepared himself for what he knew would be a long, long couple weeks.


-------------------------


         “Major Nell has returned to us, General.”  The respected Sventh turned his green-scaled head toward the ship captain with an annoyed snort only a lizard’s snout could form.  His two light brown, almost golden, eyes narrowed at the lesser-ranked upstart of a leader while his lips turned into a scowl, showing teeth as sharp as a knife’s point.


         “And how did our grunt come to be returned, Captain?”  A Sventh never showed fear to anyone and dared not show annoyance to a being of higher rank.  But that did not stop General Yserrin from smelling both on his pawn.  He always smelled fear on his pawns.  The sneer was not hidden on his face.


         “The Major came to us without provocation.  He is writing his report as we speak, General.”  Yserrin snorted once more and shifted his black uniform slightly.


         “Bring Major Nell to me, Captain.”  A hiss and a bow greeted this statement and the captain exited the Yserrin’s personal chambers.  The General turned around once more and looked at the viewscreen showing a prerecorded picture of a night sky taken from his home planet.  For seven minutes he observed the stars he hadn’t seen in 30 years.  Momentarily he almost felt a strange longing, but quickly pushed such feelings aside.  Yserrin was a soldier, not a lovesick puppy.  Thankfully such thoughts were interrupted by the captain.


         “Major Nell is here, General.”  Yserrin turned around.  When he looked at Nell he sneered, though he had known and silently respected the man for years.  Nell was a hybrid between the Sventh and their close cousins, the Verssnias.  Both were among the few lines of sessnias, one of the five sentient species, evolved from the Tessventh thousands of years back and both were heated enemies toward one another.  But while such hybrids were looked down upon and despised by their own, Nell managed to fight his way into the silent respect of all those around him.  His traitorous acts only three days ago had changed that.


         Nell looked down at the metallic floor, amber eyes not even twitching to catch a glimpse of his surroundings.  The black scales of his Verssnian side were scattered down his scull and back like a dark stain on his green body, as if they existed to showcase the man’s cowardly side.  The thick tail of all their species’ heritage hung as limply as possible without touching the floor - a sign of respect for the Sventh.


         “Leave us Captain,” Yserrin said.  The captain hissed and bowed and was gone from the room.  “Major,” Nell looked up and into the eyes of the General.  “You should be killed on the spot.  But I find myself curious.”  He hissed the last word like a curse.  “From your viewpoint, what happened to group 17-B?”


         “17-B was ambushed 120 meters south of the 14th waypoint,” Nell rumbled in a voice reminiscent of an earthquake.  “38 enemy units had 17-B surrounded.  Commander Urak ordered 17-B to continue on the waypoints and retrieve the objective.  I recognized it was suicide and I retreated.”


         “You alone retreated,” Yserrin interrupted.


         “All other units of 17-B were destroyed,” Nell continued unfazed.  “Recognizing the possibility of an information leak I retreated to rally point C, General.”


         “And the objective?”


         “The objective was lost, General.”  Yserrin sneered.


         “Such a dishonorable act calls for execution, Major,” the General hissed.  “However, your courage to come back and honor to admit the truth has...intrigued me.”  Now Nell did look up.  “I will give you an opportunity for redemption - one that will erase this darkness from your records.  Midolloni has called for the aid of the Sventh and the elders have sent us to answer in hopes of peace.  Our enemies are many and our list of possible allies thin, so the elders say.  Whatever task the humans ask of us we are to complete.  Or, in simpler words, you are to complete.  Alone.  Is this understood?”


         “What is the task I am to complete, General?”  Yserrin hissed in annoyance.


         “All that is known is that the Midollonians shall assign this task only upon our arrival.  Just as well, the humans would not go to such lengths if the task were not both dangerous and crucial to them in some way.  Do you have any other questions?”


         “No, General.”


         “Then you are dismissed.  Prepare for battle, Major.  I doubt you will be returning soon.”  Nell hissed and bowed before retreating from the room.


         When he was finally alone again, Yserrin turned around and looked at the viewscreen, resuming his vigilance over his distant homeland.


-------------------------


         Sitting silently against the hull of Hindsight, Davnick nursed a rum and cola to his lips while fingering the ham sandwich on his lap.  He seemed a picture of nonchalance, looking detached and cool at the same time, as he knew.  The docking bay was empty at the moment, but were it full of people few would suspect the battle of pride, confusion and fear raging in his mind.


         On one hand he had bagged Ruki and lived to tell the tale.  And by all rights it had been a good, if a little short, time.  On another hand, the strange look in her eyes was altogether misplaced - disturbing even.  It had almost seemed...loving?  And of course there was the ever present fear.  The woman had up and left very suddenly during what he had thought to be a good start to an excellent bout of sex.  Such things wouldn’t bother him if: a) he didn’t know he was a good lay, b) she hadn’t even gotten off yet,  c) she hadn’t up and disappeared completely and d) she wasn’t a record-breaking murderer.


         So now here he was, stuck between cheering himself on for laying one of the finest pieces of ass he’d ever seen, wracking his brain for the disturbingly misplaced love she seemed to hold for him and fearing for what may end up costing him his life, for all he knew.


         “You look like you’re having a brainstorm,” Ruki’s voice cut through his head like a bullet through air.


         “Can’t do much else when you’re sitting bored with a semi decent lunch,” he replied.  He almost grinned at what such a sentence could lead to if not for the thought of her loving eyes upon him.  He felt the fear well up inside him.


         “You just see a ghost, Dav?” she asked in a voice so dull it didn’t even sound like the dread pirate he’d come to somewhat know.  The mercenary forced a small smile.


         “Guess I’m still catching up from Ployer’s Place.”  He looked up to Ruki for the first time and what he saw he didn’t like.  The pirate stood with no emotion on her face.  No glee, no anger, no anything.  She looked dead.  “Where’d you run off to?”  She shrugged.


         “Looking around the place.  Seeing what’s what.”  He nodded.  A better question might ask why she ran off, but he somehow didn’t want to know.  “I’m going for a nap.”  He looked up again to see her manage a small, if humorless, smile.  “Do me a favor.  Don’t bother me.”


         She turned away and didn’t even wait for a response before walking into Hindsight.  Davnick never even took a step toward the entrance hatch.


-------------------------


         It was funny, really.  This was the second ship she made everyone think was haunted and it was the second time she couldn’t get herself to laugh about it.  Floating through a set of walls, Ruki didn’t even blink when she heard a loud gasp followed by a cry of fright before another wall enveloped her.  She wanted to laugh, but a part of her she hadn’t even believed existed wanted something entirely different.  Something completely foreign.  She felt pain.  There was the damnable longing of course, but now it came with pain.


         Finally Ruki stopped and shook herself free from all the thoughts.  It’d been a half hour since she’d left Davnick and Malcom would likely soon find out about the ‘Ghost of Venudious’.  Like it mattered what the pompous twit thought.  He was a means to an end.  An annoying piece of a puzzle she had to deal with to keep her reputation.


         ‘Of course, getting the job done hasn’t always involved keeping the employer alive...’  The thought put a shadow of a grin on her face, but she knew she couldn’t off him yet.  Malcom was bait.


         Turning to head back to the docking bay, Ruki felt the pain come again.  It was drowning her, yet she could breathe.  It was paralyzing her, yet she could move.  It was such a strange pain.  Like everything inside of her had been replaced by freezing cold emptiness, yet she didn’t shiver, didn’t collapse.


         She wanted to kill Kenshi for giving her this pain - rip him limb from limb.  But even stronger was the urge to...to what?  She didn’t know.  Ruki the dread pirate, the angel of death, the streetwise criminal who’d been alive for four centuries, didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on.  All she knew was that she hated and loved Kenshi Tamaki right then.


         Sooner than expected Ruki found herself back in the docking bay.  Davnick sat up against Hindsight eating a tiny lunch and looking for all the world like a confused child trying to make himself seem tougher than he really was.


         ‘The Dread Pirate scares another one,’ the strange voice in her head said humorlessly.  The pain sent a shudder through her torso.


         “You look like you’re having a brainstorm,” Ruki called across the hangar.  Davnick stiffened like a board, not even forcing himself to relax as normal.  The rookie would never be the same again, she realized.  Part of her remembered she’d wanted to see this frightened face, but now that it was before her it just didn’t give that same spark of pride as was normal.


         “Can’t do much else when you’re sitting bored with a semi decent lunch,” he replied in a voice strained with tension.  His lips quirked, though no smile appeared.  He paled as if a horrifying thought had just occurred to him.


         “You just see a ghost, Dav?”  A strained smile came to his lips and she wondered if he’d run away the second they reached their destination.


         “Guess I’m still catching up from Ployer’s Place.”  A lie.  A bad lie.  The rookie looked up, forced smile still twisting cruelly at his handsome face.  “Where’d you run off to?”  She shrugged.


         “Looking around the place.  Seeing what’s what.”  He nodded his head, simultaneously turning away from her.  Ruki suppressed a yawn as she too broke eye contact and looked toward the open hatch of Hindsight.  She needed sleep.  She needed anything that could stop the pain right then.  Looking back toward Davnick, though, she knew if he happened to wake her there was no way in hell she’d stop herself from ripping him to shreds before falling back to sleep in the gore.  Not even thinking about the strange new generosity she seemed to have formed, Ruki spoke up again.


         “I’m going for a nap.”  He looked up at her and she felt herself grin a bit at the man sitting in front of her.  “Do me a favor.  Don’t bother me.”  She knew the words were perhaps too harsh, but she also knew there wasn’t a chance he’d come near her until she woke up.  Walking into the speeder, Ruki headed straight for Davnick’s private quarters and laid down on his bed.  One thought swirled in her head as sleep overtook her.


         ‘I need to find Kenshi.  I need to stop this.  No matter what.’


-------------------------


         “Fucking God damned piece of shit,” Arty Tetson cursed, shoving his smashed thumb into his mouth as his ratchet clattered to the ground.  “Stupid fucking HV.”


         Some said owning a pawn shop was an easy job.  Maybe it usually was, but owning a successful pawn shop required good work - turning the junk brought in into something useful once more.  And God knew an old tech like him knew how to fix up scraps.


         Rubbing a hand through dirty brown hair in need of a cut, Arty picked up the ratchet and carefully connected it back into the last loose bolt.  A few turns and the HV was done.  Good as new...or at least as good as an ancient thing like this could get.


         Arty was a Pesnian, one of the many, many small races of humans spawned from the Makar way back when.  Probably even had a couple other races mixed in as well considering, as pale as he was, he was nowhere near the bright white of most of his race, but to hell if he knew and he cared even less.  Old jailbirds like him didn’t usually care where they came from.  Not to say that he was old at 34, but he often felt like it, having started wandering the streets at 10.  But that life was long over.  He was clean now.  And he liked it that way.


         The Pawnshop was a good money-maker since he’d taken control of the place.  Not as good as it could have been if he’d taken some of the more illegal trades of many of his kind, but, again, he was clean.  Near everything could be found in the dimly lit little shop.  HVs, stereos, tools, vehicle parts, watches, jewelry, instruments of all shapes and sizes, weapons - for those with the proper license - video games, books, movies...  The list went on and on.  But besides the strictly legal goods, there was not a single PC in the shop.  Well...none that wasn’t required and checked by the MMC every couple weeks.


         Anything mechanical Arty had been good with, but hacking had been his forte in the criminal world.  He hadn’t been the best, but he’d been good.  Damn good and better than the thick-headed local thugs and gangsters prowling the huge city.


         ‘Old memories,’ he thought with a wistful smile.  He may not be in the business anymore, but Arty Tetson had no regrets.  Being respected in the most powerful gang of the city had been good while it lasted, but now he was just looking forward to the day-to-day life of the honorable citizen.


         The front door opened slowly and a tall man dressed in a long, grey coat stepped in.  First he thought it was the gang, back to get him in the loop again, but such a thought was quickly dismissed.  Jeans and flannel hardly fit the Golden Lions, though they had lost most of their power and money during the bust six years ago.  The thought of having a robber was extinguished by the fact that the hat over the man’s head was not pulled down over his face.


         “Can I help you?” Arty asked, wiping the sweat and dirt off his hands with a rag.  The man stepped up to the counter and Arty took a long hard look at him.  He was no thug and no riffraff.  There was something about this guy’s bearded face that just felt...cold.  Maybe he was a gangster.  Or a potential killer looking for weapons.  ‘Or maybe just a guy with a mean face.’


         “Are you Arty Tetson?” the man asked back with a mean rasp.  The pawnshop owner took a harder look at this man.


         “That’s me,” he said, though his thoughts sounded much less casual than his voice.  ‘Please don’t force me back.  Please don’t force me back.’  But even as he thought it he knew he recognized the man from somewhere.


         “I need you to do me a favor,” the man said so quietly Arty had to strain his ears to understand.


         “Don’t do many favors.  And probably none that you’re looking for.”  ‘Where do I know him?’  The man pulled out a scouter from a deep pocket in his jacket.  Fairly common military toy, though hard to find on the streets.  Expensive and only barely legal.  “You need that fixed?” he asked, though he doubted it was that simple.  This man...he was off.  Someone he should know...


         “This is payment if you do me my favor.”  Arty looked at him questioningly.  “I want this,” he pulled out an ID card, “changed.”  Arty took a glance at the card.


         “Len Hower,” he mumbled aloud, but it was the picture that drew his attention.  Clean shaven where this man was bearded.  Red-haired where this man’s was jet black.  And most importantly, much more recognizable.


         Arty stumbled back and fell to the floor.  “Tamaki,” he gasped.


         “I want an exact copy of this card with a new name and face.  I want the new identification accessible in MMC computers.  I also want an accepted transfer into the MPG.  Specifically as a bodyguard.”


         “I-I can’t do that!  I’m out of the business now!  Clean!  I don’t even have a way to get into the systems anymore!”  Tamaki reached into a pocket and Arty covered his eyes.  When he heard a clatter on the counter he peaked above his arm and saw something he’d once considered an old friend.  There on the counter stood a bypass system.  “Really, I can’t!  I’m not even allowed to be near something like that.  Please.”


         “There are a handful of people on this planet who can do what you can do and you’re the only one not tied to a syndicate.  You do this and you will never take flak.  You get the scouter, keep it, sell it, you know it’s value.  And you don’t even have to worry about another man’s blood on your hands.”  Tamaki paused.


         “And if I don’t?” Arty asked, half wishing not to know.


         “I will hunt down everyone and everything important to you and for every hour you don’t accept someone or something will burn until only you are left.  Then I’ll start with toes and work my way up.”  The words were said in such blunt coldness Arty would never question them.


         “Let’s start with the picture.”  The pawnshop owner turned around, looking for one of the many cameras he held in stock.


         “Tetson.”  He turned back around.  “You will not betray me.”  The thought would never cross his mind.


-------------------------


         The long halls of Midolloni’s ancient Marble Keep were much less crowded than most people liked to imagine.  Named for it’s spectacular marble interior, the emperor’s home and capital building was dug deep enough and constructed high enough to house a good sized town and it’s defenses were fortified enough to make just about any military base jealous - partly because Koskov was attached to the northern section of the keep.  But while Koskov was filled to the brim with MMC, the Marble Keep only kept part of the royal family, numerous visiting dignitaries, businessmen and councilmen, their bodyguards and the cleaning bots which did their job at night so as not to annoy any of the many politicians.  The palace guard, called MPG by most, was actually stationed around the great castle with the exception of the few bodyguards who stayed within the thick stone walls.  Altogether, the gathered of those groups hardly filled up these halls.


         Berin cringed as the boredom of his home seeped into him once more.  Many who stayed wanted to keep their space, making walking from one room to another a long, boring hassle.  Sure, it was a grand sight to look upon at first, but it became so much of an annoyance after awhile.  Unfortunately his younger daughter did not share his views.


         The emperor stepped up to a sturdy wooden door and listened to the music blaring from the other side.  He knocked twice, a muffled, “Come in!” was heard and Berin opened the heavy wood.  Alanya Midolloni sat on a small, queen-sized bed, reading a novel while a music video played on the HV.  Her head was turned toward him as he entered, dark brown eyes smiling up at him on a pale, heart-shaped face while her red lips did the same.  Her long brown hair stood parted on her head and Berin gave a silent thanks that she had at least taken out the hair dye before the guests started swarming the castle.  Wouldn’t do to have his daughter going around with red or blonde or blue or whatever else color hair during the largest gathering of leaders in Midolloni.  18-year-olds these days were strange.


         “Hey daddy,” she said in her mildly low voice.  As she turned to pause the music Berin smiled warmly at his younger daughter.  “What’s up?”


         “I’ve just come to remind you the military and Sventh representatives are coming at 5:00 tomorrow night.”  She wrinkled her nose at that and the smile disappeared, replaced by a pout only a girl could successfully create.  “It would be nice for the family to greet them.  It’s not often the Sventh come this far to visit and they are very important to us right now.”


         “I hate those meetings.  They’re always so boring.”  Berin sighed at that.


         “Formal events are always boring to you.”


         “Because they are boring...”


         “Nonetheless, please be there in time.  And please look nice.”


         “I don’t look nice now?”  The pout deepened.  Berin looked over his daughter.  A red sweatshirt and a pair of baggy shorts.  Not what the common man thought of a princess.


         “Alanya...”


         “Fine.  But you owe me.”  The emperor smiled down at his younger daughter and ruffled her hair.


         “Thank you.”  Turning around, Berin walked out the door and prepared for another long walk back to his office.


         His thoughts turned to his older daughter, Relina, and his son, Benjen.  Both so different from his strangely casual youngest daughter.  Where they dressed up like most any other person of high status, Alanya preferred her comfortable shirts and pants.  Where his other daughter dabbed on blush and lipstick and his son even powdered his face lightly, Alanya liked to keep herself plain.  And yet, she would take the time to dye her hair whatever strange color she felt in the mood for.  She was shy where her siblings were outgoing and blunt where they were not.  And that sarcastic mouth of hers...  Berin just hoped his daughter would not make the front pages of every cheap newspaper around the galaxy again for ‘mocking fellow dignitaries.’


         A man could only hope.


-------------------------


         “That should be it.  Here’s your card, “Lieutenant Desmond”.  Now please get out.”  Kenshi took the card and glanced over it.  A bald, black bearded man with brown eyes stared back.  The print said his name was Jerro Desmond, a Lieutenant in the army section of the MMC.  It gave him a small smile.


         “Your scouter.”  He set the small HUD down on the glass counter of the pawnshop, behind which Tetson scowled angrily.  His eyes showed a different emotion, however.  This man was deathly afraid, as any person in their right mind should be.  Had Kenshi been as his reputation suggested this man would be dead before he walked out of the building.  Loose ends were always a worry.  But Kenshi would just leave him with the threats.  He might not follow his reputation, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of it.


         Turning around, Kenshi walked back to the front door of the pawnshop.  He didn’t say any more words, didn’t reaffirm his threats.  Tetson wouldn’t forget anytime soon.


         Outside the streets were busy with all sorts of beings.  Species of all kinds walked by, going who knows where beneath the white and glass skyscrapers of one of the most well-known cities in the universe.  All the major species were present somewhere in the crowds.  Humans walked among shops and buildings in their day-to-day lives alongside the other basic races of the universe - the bird-like avariel, the beast-like gordos, the lizard-like sessnias and the aquatic mesaria.  Some shopped in a large market held beneath a gigantic glass skyscraper.  Others went into the different shops situated beside or inside larger buildings.  Robots of all sorts walked freely among the people, doing their master’s work.  Some of them might even be freewalkers, illegal robots without the programming to obey sentient command, making them really as sentient as any other creature in the crowd with the difference being they perceived things faster and were incredibly stronger.  Cars big and small weaved between the buildings and skywalks that connected many of the structures, their thrusters glowing lightly beneath and behind them even as bright out as it was.  It was a fairly warm day so some even decided to break out their bikes.  Occasionally softshields, force fields which would slow down and stop vehicles if they came too close to buildings, would shimmer when a passing vehicle came within range.


         Kenshi smiled lightly at it all.  He’d spent years digging through scum holes and small towns and now he was finally back somewhere where civilization was it’s it’s best.  No backwater worlds or space stations, this was practically the center of the galaxy and it felt energizing.


         After a full minute of taking in the sight, Kenshi started walking.  He glanced at the sign labeling Tetson’s place ‘The Pawnshop’.  That brought him back to reality.


         Tomorrow he had a scheduled transfer to the MPG.  He’d get to lay his eyes on Koskov and the towering Marble Keep for the first time since he’d entered the SEALS program over four years ago.  The MPG was always looking for someone good enough to be a bodyguard and Kenshi was sure he’d get the job well enough, but his real worry was being good enough for them to transfer him to someone high enough to get into the Cindelliac Ball.


         ‘Only one way to find out,’ he thought with a smirk.  In seconds he was just another face in the crowd.


-------------------------


         The only sound within the owner’s room of the luxurious yacht was that of gritted teeth.  It was the proverbial dropping pin, Yenshin thought wryly, though he did not dare smirk in front of Malcom.  No use being the big red target for the oft angry noble to release the built up said anger on.


         “Ghosts they say?” Malcom asked the ship captain.  Yenshin tried to recall his name, but there had been so many and this one was so new.  No matter.  He would be replaced by tomorrow, if history was anything to judge by.  “What did these...‘ghosts’ look like?”


         “The crew claimed to see only one.  They described it as a tall woman with dark hair.  Some said it was black, a couple said it was blue.  They said she had red eyes.”


         ‘I didn’t know grinding teeth could be so loud.  Go figure.’


         “Leave me, Opress.”  The captain, Opress it seemed his name was, took a deep bow and left the room.  Malcom took a moment to rub his face as if he were exhausted before he started pacing the room.  Yenshin heard a few mutterings of, “Damnable pirate,” and, “Lying wench,” but he didn’t strain his ears too hard to catch it all.  He usually found the less he heard from Malcom the happier he was with the crap job he’d been stuck with.


         Yenshin half expected Malcom to pull away at any moment to storm down to the docking bay Ruki and the other pirate were hidden in, but the noble surprised him - in a good way for once.  Sitting down in a chair which might actually make the emperor jealous, Malcom relaxed back as much as a grumbling ball of anger could.  Then he surprised the bodyguard once more.


         “Tell me, Lieutenant, how easy it is to stop a man who has both good resources, training and experience and who wants you dead when you know little about the said man?”  Lyle Yenshin felt like a deer caught in headlights.  It’d been so long since his employer said so many words to him without a harsh glare he was almost in shock.  When the impatient glare started to form is when the bodyguard spat out the first words which came to mind.


         “You...you mean Tamaki, sir?” he stuttered out.


         “Of course I mean Tamaki!” Malcom snapped back.  “Would you be able to do your job should that man try to kill me?”  The words were frightening out of the royal’s mouth.  Malcom had never spoken words of doubt to him, never questioned his abilities.  But now, with Haqnen II behind them...with Ruki and her obvious abilities and Tamaki who had taken her down as well as a few bystanders...


         “I don’t know,” Lyle replied honestly.  Malcom seemed to sink lower into his chair at that.


         “What if...” Malcom paused, almost as if he were about speak some forsaken words.  “What if Ruki were to assist?”  Yenshin thought on it for a moment.


         “It would help greatly...” Lyle said, trailing off.


         “But?” Malcom asked, looking up into the bodyguards eyes.  The noble looked almost frightened for a split second.


         “I still don’t know.”  The prince let out a deep breath and put his chin to his chest.


         Yenshin knew what was going on.  It seemed Malcom had thought things through since Haqnen II and had caught up with everyone on the danger of the situation.  Malcom was frightened, deathly afraid really, of the abilities Tamaki seemed to have.  He knew it would likely come down to a fight.  And he knew Ruki was easily the best counter to the man.  Problem was she was already a liability, one which could easily cost him everything.


         The next few hours of the trip were spent in the usual silence and the entire time Yenshin couldn’t wait to get back.  Take some time for himself without having to be aware at all times.  Malcom was in trouble, yes, but on Midolloni there were more guards, more people qualified in Yenshin’s work who could protect the noble while he took a little more downtime for himself.  Midolloni City would do them both good.


-------------------------


         Personal files were becoming a common sight on Terrace’s desk as of late.  Ruki and Tamaki were premier among them, Ruki’s file actually being in the form of a box and Tamaki’s a surprisingly small folder.  He had agents trying to pick up scraps of the man to fill up the file a bit, but Terrace didn’t have much hope something of use would turn up.


         Davnick Cecile also sat among the many folders, not that there was much good in it.  Cecile would follow as long as payment was in order.  The merc had little information on him, but sources had found the name Ardan Lellita who had a good, long background, him being an ex bounty hunter turned mercenary who liked to see his name in the media.  He was a good man to have, as long as the wrong people didn’t look too deep into his past.


         Rae’gis Lager was next to that.  A common story of a product of the system and the war-torn, Lager was only really different because of his calculating intelligence and expertise in piloting.  Said a lot for the plan he’d supposedly been working on for years, despite it’s straightforward simplicity.


         Under that Terrace’s desk was made up of the names of numerous acquaintances and incident reports.  Worrent Ployer was there, as well as some unfortunate man named Ceric Donnely.  A couple syndicate types sat around with a multitude of other familiar names and with them a number of famous incidents.  More than a few massacres and robberies laid around among others.  Too many others.  And, if informants could hold up their end, another file would be coming along soon detailing some sort of recent incident on Haqnen II near Ruki’s former location.  Whether it had anything to do with the pirate was unknown, but there was always a chance something interesting would pop up.


         One last folder caught his eye over a quick sweep of the messy desk.  In small black lettering ‘Alicia Keidarra’ was written on one corner of the file.  Opening it, Terrace was greeted with the picture of a teenage girl - 15 at most.  Stats showed otherwise.


         “Estimated age 400?  The hell?” the commander muttered quietly.  What was the file of a long dead girl sitting on his desk for?  Terrace flipped through the pages a bit, an eyebrow raising when he saw the last recorded date she’d been officially seen.  ‘3967 A.R.?  That’s only 60 years ago...’


         He flipped back to the beginning and started reading.  A scientist.  Worked for MMC on numerous weapons and ship projects, one of which gave him a startled look.  Project: Titan.  But the date on it was too early to be the Titan ship...  Maybe something unrelated?  Or an early attempt?  Terrace kept reading.  She was arrested on 14 counts for conducting illegal bio experiments and escaped soon after.  Not much on her after that, though a small note caught his eye.


         Suspected employer to Ruki.


         There was no further info, just that small line.  Terrace shouldn’t have thought much of it - there were probably dozens of files on his desk with that same note - but something in the back of his head was setting off alarms all over his mind.


         “She works for some scientist - a woman called Ally,” he remembered Rea’gis Lager saying to him.  “Ruki gives Ally valuables and Ally gives Ruki technology."


         "Where can I find Ally?"


         "You can't.  She appears when and where she wants to.  She's insane, but she's a genius.”


         Terrace closed the file and backed his chair from the desk.  Rubbing a hand across his face, the commander suddenly felt as though capturing Ruki was an impossibility, as if the universe had somehow stacked all odds in her favor and people just further helped her along for the hell of it.


         The ringing of the phone on his desk startled him out of such thoughts.  Sweeping away a number of files, Terrace switched on the device and answered with a gruff, “What?”


         “Commander Burlai, sir, we are preparing docking procedures with Nerridian.  Would you like a ship readied to bring you down to Koskov?” one of the bridge officers asked.


         “Do it.  And tell me when it’s ready.”


         “Yes sir.”  Terrace closed the line and leaned back from his desk.  Midolloni was going to be hell.


-------------------------


         “We have half an hour until docking is underway, Miss Ruki.  Would you mind explaining to me now how it is you plan to help?”  After long years of dealing with fops like Malcom, Ruki could translate such sentences out pretty well.  ‘Tell me your use and make it quick because I don’t have time for scum like you,’ was one of the simplest ways to put it.  Unfortunately for the noble she had no idea how to deal with Kenshi herself - with him it was always an on-the-fly deal.


         “I don’t ask you how you run your side of things.  You do the same on your end and this’ll go easier on us both,” Ruki replied from her spot on an empty crate.  Davnick sat mildly nervously a fair distance away, content to let the pair argue in whatever way while the bodyguard stood just behind Malcom much more than mildly nervous and a fair bit less content.  The noble gave a sneer as he started gesturing to the exit.


         “At the least you might tell me how it is you plan on escaping this ship without being seen.”  Ruki smirked at that.


         “A good pirate doesn’t give away their secrets.  I’d go as far as to say our jobs are similar in that respect, prince.”  Somehow she doubted many could form a sneer as the politician did just then.


         “Very well, pirate.  Then I need not warn you of the consequences should you be seen or caught.  Now I must take my leave as the company here is most...undesirable.”  As he had time and again before, Aiston Malcom turned around with all the flair his Midollonian grace allowed and stalked out the room, the bodyguard trailing behind awkwardly.


         Relaxing tense muscles once the pair had gone, Ruki ran a hand through her hair tiredly.  Of course he had to come just as she had finally fallen asleep...


         “Is there a plan to catch Tamaki?” Davnick asked, nearly making the veteran pirate jump.  She glanced at his semi relaxed form next to the speeder and gave a small smirk.


         “Do you expect some spectacular complex trap of luring and snagging him?”  Davnick cocked his head at that.


         “No idea.”  He bit his lip - probably to keep some sarcastic remark from spewing out.  It seemed she had scarred him.


         ‘I almost feel sorry for him.  Strange.’  Shrugging her shoulders and quickly making up her fogged mind, the veteran walked over to the rookie and promptly sat down on the man’s lap.


         “We will get in the Marble Keep and we will find him,” she said to the saucer-eyed man before her as her hand came down to massage his crotch.  “Beyond that, we do whatever comes to mind.”  She felt him harden in her hand and a reflexive smirk came to her face.  The saucer-eyed boy soon disappeared to be replaced by the suave, though still scared, man, his quick hands slowly reaching up to caress her sides and breasts.


         Somewhere in her mind the fantasy started to play out again, but Ruki repressed it forcefully.  She wanted to enjoy this.  She wanted to forget Kenshi, ignore whatever the hell was happening to her and fuck this man like the slut she had been only hours before.


         ‘Slut?’ her mind asked questionably.  Never had she accepted the term for herself.  She closed her eyes and nodded - something Dav must have taken the wrong way as he slid his hands under her shirt.  ‘I am a slut.  A feared, murderous slut.’  She stopped her hands, but Davnick continued.  This time he took control, lying her down on the floor to do things at his pace.  Her body responded and she made no move to stop him, but her mind was elsewhere - confused for the first time in as long as she could remember on who she was.


         The fantasy was repressed, but she enjoyed nothing.  And Kenshi never left her mind.


-------------------------


         Davnick was quick to silently thank the stars those loving eyes didn’t come back.  Of course they were replaced by something practically lifeless, but at least it didn’t look as if Ruki was gonna ask him for marriage or some other equally frightening thought.


         She was still so limp and dull, though, and if he wasn’t so relieved he might actually be frightened by that fact.  As cold as she was, however, he continued on; caressing, scratching, sucking, licking, fucking...no kissing, but that was something he tried to avoid for reasons of easier detachment.


         It was over as quickly as it started, him releasing into her and climbing off her once his senses kicked back in.  Ruki continued the part of a robot, however, slowly climbing to her feet and fixing her clothes onto herself.  She didn’t even glance at him as she walked into the ship.


         “Odd,” he muttered to himself, following reluctantly - they needed to head out and he still had yet to pack.


         Ruki had already gotten everything she had together by the time Dav entered the ship - namely the package from Ally she had under her arm.  She gave him a glance and said, “Pack only what you need.”  She was walking out of the speeder a second later.


         Davnick followed instructions, taking only a little extra time to scrape off the skin under his fingernails from where they had scratched at the pirate.  ‘Won’t Burlai be surprised,’ he thought as he put the small bits of flesh into a tiny plastic bag.  Minutes later the mercenary had all the clothes and weapons he’d need for a week stuffed into a black bag alongside a palm computer he could use to keep contact with his current boss.


         The Dread Pirate was waiting quietly for him outside Hindsight.  Once Dav stepped up she was walking again...only not toward the exit.


         “Where are you going?” he asked curiously.  She smirked back at him mischievously - the first sign of some actual life he’d seen out of her for hours.


         “Shortcut,” she said simply.  “Come on.”  He hurried after her and stopped beside her once they reached the bare wood covering the hull of the docking bay.


         “...ok.  What now?”  She said nothing, only grabbed his arm and touched the silver bracelet on her wrist.  Next thing Davnick knew he was being dragged to a wall.  “What are you...”  Words caught in his throat when he saw the pirate’s head disappear through the hull followed soon by her body.  Still she dragged him onward, pulling him through with her to escape into Midolloni Interplanetary Airport.


         “What the hell was that?” the merc asked, too surprised to form anything else in his mind.  Had he just walked through a wall?


         Ruki merely raised a finger to upturned lips and kept dragging him, looking around the stretch of concrete, grass and flying vehicles of all sorts with mixed hangars, towers and public buildings scattering the area and a tall, thick concrete wall separating airport from the skyscraper-infested city beyond.  There weren’t many people, but caution was still a necessity, he quickly understood.  Surprise and questions could wait until they were in the clear.


         The grip on his hand loosened and let go and Davnick felt the same arm tighten around his waist instead.  Next thing he knew the pair were flying up to the roof of a nearby hangar and ducking down together to remain unseen and get the lay of the land.  It was an odd sensation, flying, but Dav had no time to contemplate it as the next thing he knew Ruki was dragging him again toward a nearby wall separating the airport from the busy street.


         A few saw and were surprised by the pair’s sudden appearance through solid concrete and subsequent landing, but a bit of quick walking and a minute of time had the most wanted woman in the universe and her current ‘partner’ lost in the crowd...free to walk the streets of the galaxy’s capital unhindered.


         When Davnick looked back at Ruki’s face he saw that mischievous grin again.  It was a startling switch, but the merc quickly understood; she was stuck in the moment, the thrill of success.  It would end soon enough and then she’d be lifeless again.


         ‘Will have to keep her busy,’ he thought to himself as the capital of the galaxy engulfed them.


-------------------------


         “What do you mean I’m not scheduled?!  I’ve had this appointment scheduled for three months!  I double-checked with this office two days ago and there was no problem!”  The loud voice of the man cut through the early morning air, a rude reminder of how little sleep had been gotten the night before.


         Kenshi couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the man whose appointment he’d stolen.  But necessity was necessity and Kenshi doubted this man had something more important to take care of than himself.  It was no matter now, in an case.  Couldn’t change what’d already been done.


         “I’m sorry, sir, but your name is not listed.  Lt. Desmond has the appointment,” the pretty young receptionist said almost sympathetically.  As if she cared about one more impatient face in the room.


         “Fine, whatever.  I’d rather take my business to someplace organized.”  The man spun and left with a huff, leaving the receptionist looking at Kenshi.


         “Lt. Desmond, you may enter now.”  Kenshi gave a small nod, stood up, straightening an old MMC uniform he wore, and started walking toward the office of GA Wror Gerald.  Opening the darkly stained wood door, he was greeted by an office that was more luxurious home away from home than workspace.  Couch, hv, food materializer, closet, personal restroom...and of course a large wooden desk littered with neatly organized paperwork, behind which sat a strongly built dark-skinned man with close-cropped black hair and a pleasant smile on his face rather friendly face.  Kenshi closed the door and stood at attention before the man.


         “Sit, please, Lieutenant,” Gerald said in a friendly voice higher than one might first suspect.  “I dislike people being so tense during these interviews.  It becomes draining.”


         “I can imagine,” Kenshi replied, sitting on a wooden chair before the great desk.


         “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.  I heard the man outside.  Some people just cannot follow the rules of the system.  No matter.  I am Guard Administrator Wror Gerald.  And you are Lt. Jerro Desmond, I assume.”


         “Yes.”  Gerald frowned slightly.


         “Relax, Lt. Desmond.  This will go all the more quickly and painlessly if you open up more.”  Kenshi had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.  How’d a fruitcake like this get to be GA for the Marble Keep?


         “I’m not a talkative person, Mr. Gerald.”  The man frowned again.  This was gonna be annoying.


         “Please, call me Wror.  And are you sure this is the right job for you?  Bodyguards are often required to please the people they work for as much as protect.”


         “Where I come from a bodyguard has one job.”  The frown stayed this time.


         “I...see...”  Gerald looked down at a file and opened it up.  He glanced at something and made a small note before looking back up to Kenshi.  “I reviewed your history and accomplishments yesterday.  By all rights you are more than fit for this job, besides being perhaps too...impersonal.  You’ve passed all training and tests with flying colors, I see.  I do, however, require seeing a small test of skill personally.  It is nothing big or taxing.  It does help a bit with placement, however.”


         “Alright.”  The frowned deepened and Gerald stood up.


         “Follow me, please.”  The large dark-skinned GA walked around the desk and, turning, Kenshi caught sight of an elevator he hadn’t noticed on his way in.  Gerald opened the door and Kenshi followed.


         The way down was as silent one, thankfully.  The GA had finally gotten it through his skull that maybe his talking wasn’t all that pleasant.  When the door opened again they were in some sort of decorative training ground.  A few potential bodyguards were sparring while a few more looked on, but otherwise the place was empty and silent, if perhaps unnecessarily built with trees, springs and even a false sky on what must have been a giant domed screen.


         “Please choose your weapon.  Do you need to change clothes?” Gerald asked.


         “No,” Kenshi said simply as he walked to the weapons rack.  All sorts of sparring weapons were stacked - pistols, SMGs, sniper rifles - though the room really was much too small for one to be used as it was meant to be used - shock staffs - which would be used by the majority who were simply grunts in the MPG and not actual bodyguards yet - and, of course, the standard for the bodyguards of Midolloni’s royalty, plasma swords.  All of which were strictly stun weapons, not in the least fatal unless used in excess.  Only the plasma sword was meant to be used for sparring since guns were ‘uncivilized’ to the MPG, only used to practice deflecting plasma.


         ‘Uncivilized, but not restricted,’ Kenshi thought with a smirk as he pocketed a pair of swords - also looked down upon - and hid a pistol near the small of his back.


         When he came back to Gerald, the man was organizing ten of the men, most of which trainees, to spar with Kenshi.  Apparently Gerald had changed his mind on the taxing part and was already trying to get Kenshi out of this.


         ‘He really is a fruitcake,’ he thought.  “What next?” he asked Gerald when the GA was done giving instructions.


         “First is a test to see you can deflect plasma.  I know you’ve done so before coming here, but it is merely a test to see for myself.  Awfens?  If you please.”  A scrawny Rittu boy stepped up, a single pistol held low in both hands.  None of his fingers were placed correctly for any style, Kenshi observed.  “Whenever you’re ready, Lieutenant.”


         Grabbing a training sword out of his pocket, the ex SEALS watched the man across from him ready his own weapon with both hands.  It’s been a long time since he’d used a sword, but his training had covered most all areas of combat at one point.  Though the sword training hadn’t been as intense as that of other weapons, he was at the least more proficient than most.  The sword was turned on and a specialized beam of plasma raced out to run diagonal to his legs.


         “Go,” Kenshi rasped and the trainee raised his weapon to start shooting.  Standard mode.  Even without the improved vision and reaction time this would be cakewalk.  Maybe Gerald was gonna make this easy after all...


         The shots came in sporadically, but they were easy enough to deflect.  The trainee wasn’t aiming to make this any harder either, but that was almost a given.  One shot was absorbed into the sword, then two.  Soon it was ten, then 15 and then the magazine was empty and the trainee lowered the gun - but not before the weapon made an audible click to remind him he was done.  Kenshi powered off the sword.


         “Good, good.  Awfens, please reload.  Now, Lieutenant, I would like to see you neutralize Awfens.  Whenever you’re both ready.”  The trainee looked back across from him and raised the pistol in what must have been his combat position.


         “You ready?” Awfens asked.  Kenshi remained still with the sword at his side.


         “Shoot.”


         The shots came in the standard mode still.  Too slow and all aimed directly at his chest.  Too easy.


         The first shot was sidestepped last second and the rest therefore missed entirely.  Kenshi didn’t see them pass, however, as he was already rushing in a circle to both get closer and keep the man’s shots off.  Worked too easily - each bolt of plasma ended up well behind him.  When Kenshi was within five meters is when he changed directions, quickly turning from running around the trainee to bull rushing him.  Another shot came, but he merely ducked, waited for the shot to pass and dove for the man, switching the sword on at the same time.  The trainee never saw it coming.  He just let out a grunt as the training sword skewered him as best it could through the heart and slumped into unconsciousness.


         “Most...unconventional, Lt. Desmond,” Gerald said with a frown as he stared down at the prone trainee.


         “The better to catch an enemy unawares,” Kenshi replied.


         “True,” the GA said, still frowning.  “One more test.  A protection test.  You must protect this hologram,” he flipped the switch on a black disk and threw it on the ground to have a life-sized Emperor Berin Midolloni come smiling out, “from the nine trainees here.”  Kenshi looked to see five men armed with pistols, one with an SMG and the other three lazily holding powered down plasma swords.  He was meant to fail this, he knew.  “When you are ready, Lieutenant.”  The trainees turned their swords on and checked their weapons.  Kenshi smirked and brought his sword behind him.


         “Draw.”


         As one the trainees brought up their weapons.  From left to right the gunners fell down unconscious before the smoking training pistol Kenshi held in his hand two seconds later.  Everybody froze in shock.  Everybody but Kenshi.  Spinning the half spent weapon, Kenshi holstered the gun at the small of his back once more and took out the sword as his right hand took the second sword out of his pocket.  Together they turned on to form a V at his ankles.


         “Move,” he said to the three remaining trainees.  And they did.  One at a time.  The first came at him with all the aggression in the world.  He didn’t count on Kenshi taking the offensive as well, however, and was gone before he even knew a slice had been made from hip to opposing shoulder.


         The other two were more cautious.  Together they tried to flank him, yet still neither expected aggression.  Kenshi raced between them and swung both swords up, knocking their weapons above their heads.  They both tried to swing around, but he was too fast.  Spinning around, Kenshi slashed both across the ribs and sent them down.  Turning off both swords, he looked to find the GA watching him with an open mouth.


         “You...  How...?  Did you use a gun?”


         “Yes.”


         “That...you can’t...but...”


         “It’s within regulation,” he guessed.  “And it got the job done.”  Gerald nodded reluctantly.


         “You passed then.”  He sounded disappointed.  “I take it you still want the job?”  Kenshi nodded.  “Very well.  I will try to find a suitable person.  In the meantime I’ll send someone down to escort you to your new quarters.  Welcome to the MPG Lt. Desmond.”  That said, Gerald turned back for the elevator and walked away, leaving Kenshi to deal with the awakening of ten unconscious men and the glances of the few other MPGs in the room.


         ‘Part one done.  Now to figure out what to do next.’


-------------------------


         Alanya fidgeted boredly in her father’s office, endlessly annoyed that Benjen and Relina could feign calmness even now.  And that’s what it was, too.  Just an act.  She’d seen big brother and sis sweating about this only an hour ago.  They wanted to be here, though.  Alanya just wanted to go back to talking to some of the other girls in the castle.  A lot of people were arriving for the Ball and their kids liked to come along, most of whom were as bored as she was.  At the desk in front of them sat Father, him rambling on about etiquette and the like as he always did for these things.  She didn’t pay attention.  She’d heard it a million and one times.


         “Stop twitching so much,” her sister muttered to her. She was slighter than Alanya and the younger princess suspected her sister might be anorexic, but she held herself gracefully and everything from her long blonde hair to her practically luminescent skin seeped dignity.  “It will be an insult to the visitors.”  Alanya scowled at her and smoothed out the plain white dress she’d dug out of her closet.  Not as nice as everyone had hoped her to wear and definitely not as nice as what her siblings wore, but it was formal enough for her.


         “Please, sister, don’t ruin it for everyone else,” Benjen added in.  Her eldest sibling looked as feminine as Relina with his delicate and thin build.  Some even assumed he was Relina’s twin, having much the same build and hair color.  Alanya looked across to her father, but he remained oblivious that a second conversation was happening.


         “Well at least I’m not wound up so much I’m about to snap.  This is boooooring.”


         “And your romance novels are not?” Benjen shot in.  “Oh, Chlodeva...I’m in love with you...” he mimicked cheaply.


         “My Brycanion, I know.  For I love you as well.”  Relina had the better cheap voice for this.  Father had stopped his instructions to watch the theatrics by now.


         “How much, darling?”


         “A lot times ten bagillion, hun.”  Both erupted into giggles and her father chuckled.  Alanya only pouted.  The Ugly Romance was a really great book...


         “I’m sure that was all ‘proper etiquette’,” she shot back sarcastically.  Both siblings bristled at what she knew was the insult of insults to them.  Formalities were much too important to both.  “Where is Mom, by the way?” she asked, looking at her dad.  Mother should have been back from her spa vacation hours before.  Father gave her a sheepish grin.


         “I forgot.  There were problems with the ship and she had to be delayed another few hours.  She should be landing any minute.”


         “It is a shame Mother had to miss this,” Relina said.


         “Yes.  She would have enjoyed this I’m sure,” Benjen replied.


         “I’m sure,” Alanya muttered sarcastically and she noticed Father nod only to the last part.  Before her siblings could start an argument on the finer points of Squeidlith tea against that of Eulaneian, however, an intercom buzzed on her father’s desk.


         “Commander Burlai here to see you, Emperor,” the old voice of the receptionist called.


         “Send him in.”  She heard it in her father’s voice and she saw it in her brother’s and sister’s change of stance.  Now was a time for business.


         The man who walked in was taller than most, but not enormously.  At first she thought he was an above average Frentan or Midollonian, but as she studied him more the more she suspected he was Terran.  He was neat in his MMC officer’s uniform and had a face of pure business on, just like her father.


         “Emperor Midolloni, it is an honor.”


         “The honor is mine, Commander Burlai.  I have heard great things of you from Admiral Giznek.  I hear you served in the Orlius Massacre.”  It looked to Alanya that the man slumped down a bit, but when she looked at her family they seemed not to notice.


         “It was my duty.  One I would repeat again if necessary.”  Now he seemed to wince a bit, but again no one noticed.


         “Commander, I would like to introduce you to my family.”  Father pointed to each of them in turn.  “My son, Benjen, my eldest daughter, Relina and my youngest, Alanya.  I apologize that my wife could not make it to see you.”  Each took a small bow when their name was called.


         “A pleasure,” Burlai responded with only the slightest hint of a grin.  “Commander Terrace Burlai,” he introduced himself, glancing at each of them.  He looked back at Father.  “I am at your command, Emperor.”  The next few minutes were all tuned out of Alanya’s head, though everyone else nodded along and listened carefully.  Something about everybody in the galaxy worried and the brink of war with neighbors.  Nothing interesting or to worry over.  Finally her father wrapped things up.


         “I would like to discuss this with you in more detail privately sometime,” he said, much to the younger princess’ joy.  “In the meantime, please enjoy your stay here.”


         “Thank you, Emperor,” the dark-haired Terran said before taking a low bow and exiting.  The older siblings waited for the door to shut before talking behind the poor man’s back.


         “A real hero at the Cindelliac ball,” Relina said with stars in her eyes.  It was a disgusting sight.


         “Thinking of asking our strapping commander out, sis?” Benjen asked.  Alanya was too far into annoyance to deal with this any longer.


         “God, you two never stop!  He’s just a sol...” the intercom cut her off.


         “The Ssventh representative is here to see you, Emperor.”


         “Send him in.”  Seconds later and a towering beast walked in with what must have been a sneer planted across it’s snout.  It wore heavy grey body armor instead of an expensive suit and had dozens of empty holsters for weapons which must have been temporarily confiscated.  She got the feeling that a few had been missed somewhere on it’s person.


         “Emperor Berin Midolloni,” the giant talking green lizard said in a raspy voice as if testing the name.  He, or maybe it for all she knew of the race, glared at each of the family members in the room.  Alanya shivered under the gaze.  “What have you called on my kind for?”


         “A call for an alliance, General Yserrin,” her father said with a frown marring his usually lighthearted features.  “Our peoples have been in silent hostilities for long enough.  I call upon a favor to be repaid at your will.  If it is fulfilled I hope we might gain an alliance once more in these trying times.”  The general’s sneer grew.


         “What is this favor?”  Father merely slid a disk across the desk.


         “It’s all there.  Take it back to show you elders.  I hope for an answer by the time the Ball is over.”


         “Very well, Emperor Berin Midolloni,” the lizard hissed.  “I will give you this answer within eight days.”  Yserrin didn’t even wait for her father to say his farewells.  Just turned and walked out.


         “That was...interesting,” Benjen stated.  For once nobody responded.


         “Benjen, Relina, please excuse yourselves.  I must talk with Alanya at the moment.”


         “Yes Father,” both responded robotically with a bow.  Alanya grimaced and watched the two walk out.


         “What’s up dad?”  She asked with her usual smile.  Maybe he’d gotten her a surprise!  He frowned again, his features unfortunately again marred by the ugly twist of his lips.


         “Alanya...honey...”  Now she knew something was wrong.  Her father always tiptoed around bad news.


         “What is it?” she asked, a frown of her own appearing.


         “These are becoming dangerous times...hostile times.  Someone like you can be worth a lot to a lot of bad people.”


         “What do you mean daddy?”


         “Alanya, you are my daughter.  This means you are respected to our people...and a target to our enemies.”


         “Are you saying I can’t go to the Ball?”  She hoped it wasn’t true.  She loved seeing all the different people at the Cindelliac Ball.  Father, however, merely looked surprised and started laughing.


         “No no no no no.”  He stopped laughing and frowned once more.  “No.  It is time for you to have protection.”  She blinked.


         “Protection?”  Her father leaned over and switched on the microphone.


         “Send in Gerald, please.”  It took her a moment to recognize the name.


         “You’re getting me a bodyguard?”  She wasn’t sure she like this idea.


         “It is for the best.  If you want to be present at the Ball you must have one.  The security there is good, but not impenetrable.”  She decided it best not to argue and instead took to biting her lip.  Seconds later a large black Midollonian carrying a briefcase entered the room.


         “You called for me, my Emperor?”  Never had Alanya thought such a sentence could sound so friendly.  It was almost freakish.


         “Gerald, I want the best bodyguard you have available on my daughter.”  Alanya looked at her father in confusion.  Why was he being so protective?


         ‘Would someone really want to hurt me?’


         “Best, sir?  What might you consider “best”?”  Not almost freakish.  It was freakish.  The guy sounded like a children’s therapist.


         “The person most qualified to protect my daughter,” the emperor said impatiently.  Maybe he didn’t like the voice either.


         “Gregor Simmons has a good sword and is a very friendly fellow, my Emperor.”


         “I’m not looking for good.  I’m looking for excellence.”


         “I am sorry, my Emperor, but with the nobles arriving many of the better guards have been taken already.”


         “Then take one back.”  The GA paused.


         “This will be unpopular by many, my Emperor.  Simmons is a good man.  Very friendly.  He will treat your daughter kindly.”  Her father was beginning to look angry.  Not saying much, but Alanya knew her father had a lot of patience.


         “I care little how friendly the man is as long as he can protect my daughter, Gerald.  Give me the best you can.”  The black man licked his lips and started thinking.  He looked disturbed by whatever conclusion he reached.


         “May I?” he asked finally, pointing his case to the desk.


         “Go ahead,” the annoyed leader replied.  Gerald set the briefcase down, opened it and rooted through some papers.


         “There was one man...but his style is largely unpopular by the MPG.  He has extremely unorthodox methods.  Uses guns and two swords.  Two!  However, he is very capable.  I just received him on a transfer this morning.”


         “I don’t want someone without experience, Gerald.”


         “I assure you he is quite experienced, my Emperor.”  Finally he pulled out a file and set it in front of herself and Father.  “Jerro Desmond, a former Lieutenant of the Army.  Has high marks and good experience.  Can’t say much for his personality, however.”


         Alanya looked at the picture of the man.  Bald and black-bearded, the man might have been handsome if it weren’t for the bad hairstyle.  Still, she was drawn to the cold eyes staring out of the picture.  Not so much angry as devoid of anything.  Strange.  A little frightening, even.  Her father took a once-over of the papers and looked up at Gerald.


         “She’ll have him.”