Call of Destiny (One Small Step out of the Garden of Eden,#1)

By Robert Wagoner

He set out to find himself. Fate found him instead.

High school senior Michael Gillen, living on Earth in the late twenty-fifth century, can’t wait to flee his wretched life. But when he sets out to a military academy to fulfill his lifelong dream of exploring the stars, things go from bad to worse. Will the stubborn, free-spirited, and idealistic young man wash out before realizing his dream? Will his family’s past get the best of him? Can he keep his mind off other, more enticing distractions? Will he get his chance to set off into the stars before a terrible war breaks out?

"An enticing read." -- Midwest Book Review

“The book has lots of good twists and an interesting futuristic society.” -- reader review

"The characters were well developed and the suspense kept me turning the pages!!" -- reader review

"As someone who generally isn't interested in science fiction, I liked this book because the people and their experiences were the focus rather than the science fiction...I enjoyed seeing the characters come into their own...I did not anticipate the ending - it was a great twist" -- reader review

About the Series
Call of Destiny is part one of the series: One Small Step out of the Garden of Eden. The series, set five hundred years after the first Apollo moon landing, follows four young adults through their journey to find themselves and their place in the universe. The series is written for adults but has a PG-13 audience and can be enjoyed by ages 15 and up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Wagoner
• Release date: Sep 15, 2010
• ISBN: 9780982628553

Robert Wagoner

At the age of four, Robert Wagoner watched the live broadcast of the Apollo 11 moon landing. He then spent his entire childhood following space exploration and dreaming of being an astronaut. A native of the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania region; he lives with his wife and children in New England, where he works for a technology firm.

Book preview

CALL OF DESTINY

Being the first part of

ONE SMALL STEP OUT OF

THE GARDEN OF EDEN

Robert Wagoner

Published by Beechstreet Publishing at Smashwords. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2009, 2012 by Robert Wagoner

ISBN: 978-0-9826285-5-3

revision date: 9/1/2012

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Fallen Hero

Chapter 2 – Senior Year

Chapter 3 – Earth States Military Academy

Chapter 4 – Kara Ricci

Chapter 5 – Michael the Rook

Chapter 6 – Freshman Cadet

Chapter 7 – Summer Vacation

Chapter 8 – Epaulet Strip Number Two

Chapter 9 – Art of War

Chapter 10 – What the Eye Hath Seen …

Chapter 11 – Unfortunate Reunion

Chapter 12 – Go Tell David

Chapter 13 – New Recruits

Chapter 14 – New Year

Chapter 15 – Building the Team

Chapter 16 – Divisive Announcement

Chapter 17 – Early Morning Broadcast

Chapter 18 – Called to Duty

Chapter 19 – Captain of the Ship

Chapter 20 – Tour of Duty

Chapter 21 – Inconveniences of War

Chapter 22 – Distress Call

Chapter 23 – Impossible Rescue

Chapter 24 – Dancing with Giants

Chapter 25 – Casualties of War

Reader Links

ONE SMALL STEP

OUT OF THE

GARDEN OF EDEN

Series

Part One: Call of Destiny

Part Two: Chasing Tyranny

Part Three: Exodus

Part Four: Enemy Within

To my wife and children.

CHAPTER ONE

Fallen Hero

A distressed Michael Gillen awoke from unconsciousness into unrelenting darkness. Rubble surrounded his battered body, and he heard the tortured groans of someone in agony. His other senses were also afire under his dire predicament: the smell of polluted, choking air; the taste of bile in his mouth; and the feel of a uniform scoured beyond repair and drenched in blood.

However, none of these terrible sensations registered with him right then. No, he lay in a half-conscious stupor, suffering under a maddening disorientation. He was in shock. Soon, the agony would visit him without mercy. But right then, his stupor afforded him a reprieve, a surreal calm before the storm.

Yet even subdued by such a haze, his conscience deep within awaited its moment to spring upon him. Even then, it eagerly awaited the visitation of his agony—as recompense for what he had done. Even then, his conscience reveled that death had refused to take him so quickly. Voices of the dead—those who had died because of his actions—accused him from the ether. And certainly, those who would soon suffer because of his failure would join the chorus of taunting.

Yes, suffering and lamenting would be his penance—at least for a time. Then, death could have its way with him, should it so choose.

Even then, the young man’s stupor was fading.

MANY YEARS EARLIER

Youth and Indiscretion

CHAPTER TWO

Senior Year

NEWSFLASH: Eratosthenes, the Moon (Mar 31, 2499A.D.) – In a long-awaited press conference this morning, Vice-President Turner announced a new era in space exploration. Following in the grand traditions of early space exploration initiatives by the United States and the Soviet Union in the twentieth century, the Earth States undertaking will attempt to send manned exploration vessels to nearby stars.

Turner announced the formation of the National Space Exploration Administration, which will execute the bold endeavor. Cyril Davidson, a former admiral in the Terran fleet, has been named Executive Director of the agency.

During the press conference, the Vice-President continually likened the undertaking to the Apollo moon landing program of the twentieth century, rather than subsequent initiatives resulting in the exploration and colonization of other planets and moons throughout Terrae Solaris. Due to the immense challenges faced by those first astronauts and engineers, the Apollo program was the boldest undertaking of all such programs, Turner explained. Such is the case with NSEA, for traversing the vast distances to even the nearest stars will require technologies still under development.

In a subsequent press conference in the afternoon, Cyril Davidson announced a partnership with Earth States Military Academy to train the next generation of astronauts. The well-known university will offer select junior candidates entrance into a new Deep Space Exploration Program to be offered next fall. A similar prep concentration program will be offered to select freshman and sophomore candidates.

Pundits spoke favorably of the announcement, attributing the program’s formation to Earth States’ unprecedented economic prosperity. The announcement also bodes well for Vice-President Turner, who is expected to succeed President Schuler in the November 2500 elections.

* * * * * * * *

SMACK!

The small diner brimmed with the typical Friday afternoon crowd of energetic teenagers putting the long school week behind them. Contemporary music blared, cowed only by the roar of frivolity. Yet the unexpected cracking sound brought the frenzy to a complete standstill, and all eyes fixed on the corner booth.

An irate, young female shot up from one side of the table. While she gathered her things to leave, the male senior sitting opposite her, displaying a painful-looking handprint on one side of his face, watched in embarrassment.

Drop dead, Mike! she huffed.

But Jennifer—

She stormed out of the diner. A round of ooohs and similar jeers followed, as did mocking sneers from three all too familiar seniors at a nearby table. Michael Gillen paid them no mind: he had accomplished his objective; his noticeable concern for the young woman’s feelings was simply a courtesy.

The room returned to its normal chaos.

It didn’t take her long to come to her senses, Gillen, the largest of the three fellows at the nearby table scoffed.

Michael feigned indifference to hide his disdain for his classmate. I’m okay with that, Fellinger. Then he stood and walked out of the diner.

He headed down the sidewalk toward where he would catch transportation home. The diner sat on the main street of the quaint little Earth town, whose tallest building stood no more than a few floors. The warm afternoon sun accosted him from the side, interrupted only when he passed by one of the small shade trees lining the walk. With a lazy Friday afternoon upon the town, the walkways lay mostly deserted. Only an occasional vehicle passed by on the street.

The sound of the diner’s door opening again broke the air, followed by footsteps moving in his direction.

Michael cringed.

Hey, Gillen! an irritated Danny Fellinger called from behind him. You know she’s my cousin, right? You shouldn’t treat her like that.

Michael, his face still throbbing from where Jennifer had slapped him, rolled his eyes and kept pace in the direction of his destination. After all, Jennifer’s virtue wasn’t Fellinger’s concern. No, Michael’s stellar performance on the physics test earlier that day had broken the curve. Danny had failed as a result. Michael had made himself a target.

When Michael turned the corner, he quickened his pace. The transport that would take him home lay directly ahead—too far away for a quick escape. Danny Fellinger and company were rounding the corner too.

Continuing toward the transport, Michael heard the trio closing the gap. He couldn’t move fast enough. When his antagonists came within an arm’s reach of him from behind, one of them wrenched away the small book tucked into his back pocket.

Fuming, Michael, stopped and turned in defiance.

Fellinger, his sneering cohorts flanking him, held the book in one hand and surveyed the cover. The thug, whose stature matched that of a sequoia, towered well over Michael, who fell into his intimidating shadow. Despite Michael’s tall, athletic build, he was no match for the sizeable Danny Fellinger.

However, Michael remained undaunted, just as he always did.

Of course, he loathed the thought of rehashing the same, tired subject too.

"‘Neil Armstrong: A Look at the Man Who Helped Shape the Twenty-Fifth Century’, Fellinger read aloud the cover. With another sneer, he threw the book back at him. Get your head out of the stars. The last thing this solar system needs is another Gillen making trouble."

At least I’ll have that option.

Fellinger fumed. Taking in the fading, red handprint on the side of Michael’s face, the gargantuan pushed an index finger hard against his chest. "Your family is garbage, Gillen. That’s why your mom and dad are here on Earth. No other place in Terrae Solaris will have them, not after all the trouble Jonathan Gillen caused. He was garbage, Gillen … just like you are garbage."

Michael kept eye to eye with his nemesis. Fellinger’s friends, still standing behind him, laughed like hyenas. Common sense told the young man to walk away. Yet his anger boiled within him, bringing to mind all the other times Danny Fellinger had insulted his family—and all those others who had reviled the Gillen name throughout the years. The conversation wasn’t over either. No, Fellinger would continue his rant until he accomplished his objective.

So Michael punched the gargantuan in the face!

A brawl erupted.

* * * * * * * *

A bruised and bloodied Michael sat surrounded by the familiar wilderness valley of his family homestead. From the clearing next to the lake, he could see his house—at least what was visible of the underground structure—located at the base of the distant hillside on the same side of the water. Between the clearing and the home lay a thick canopy of trees. A makeshift pathway cut through the thicket. The isolate clearing was his sanctuary.

The dour seventeen-year-old reclined against a boulder, facing the water and deep in thought. Occasionally bored and continually frustrated, he sometimes skipped a stone across the water and watched it plunge to its demise—how fittingly ironic. But mostly, he kept to himself.

He was pouting.

His head hung low so that his long, brown hair draped conspicuously in front of his eyes. The torn fabric exposing his bloody knee held his fascination. Mindlessly, he kept inserting a finger into the hole—until accidental contact with the fresh wound shot burning pain through the leg. He stroked the stubble covering his face with his other hand, though keeping well clear of the gash at the corner of his mouth and the badly bruised cheek above it. Nevertheless, the whole side of his face throbbed. His favorite shirt boasted a terrible rip and a prominent stain where blood had dripped from his mouth.

To call him a boy would have been unfair, for his long, masculine frame demanded recognition. Yet to call him a man would have been presumptive. For in the deep pools of his blue eyes burned the brashness, high-spiritedness, vacuousness, and naïveté that is youth. No, the lad found himself precariously caught between worlds. To him, growing up had become a cruel rite of passage; this day was no exception. Overwhelmed by his altercation with Danny Fellinger earlier, young Michael had escaped to his favorite place of refuge.

Hi, Mike, a familiar voice echoed from the canopy of trees.

Michael looked up just as his older brother appeared from the thicket. A senior in college, David had been away since Christmas. He was the typical twenty-two-year-old of the day and very much the polar opposite of Michael. The sibling had neatly cropped, ash-blond hair and a clean-shaven face, while conservative clothing covered his filled-out, columnar frame.

Yet David possessed other qualities that set him apart from his contemporaries. Though having a swagger about him, especially around his younger brother, David was more than personable and lived by strong convictions. Of course, Michael found all those redeeming qualities to be quite irksome.

Watching him approach, Michael fought back the smile creeping into his dour gaze. This wasn’t the time for reunions. No, the crisis of the day consumed the teen. And more than likely, David had come on the behalf of less than sympathetic parties: Mom. Therefore, he resolved to give David no quarter. When did you get here? Then he averted his gaze toward the water once more.

Taking in his younger brother’s injuries, David sat down at a respectable distance from him. About twenty minutes ago. I thought you’d be here. You always are. Looking skyward, he added, Though it’s a little early. I can’t see one star yet. Then he laughed.

Give it time.

Come back to the house.

And get yelled at again?

I smoothed things out with Mom. She’s not mad anymore about you coming home all bloody.

Michael, falling slack-jawed, huffed, "Why can’t she just talk to me?" Receiving no satisfaction, he returned his gaze out onto the lake and sulked.

You know how moms worry. … Come back to the house. Dad’s almost home. He’s gonna start grilling soon.

I’m not in the mood.

Bad day? What’d you do? Break up with Sasha?

"Jennifer. Sasha was three girlfriends ago."

David picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. Unfortunately, the stone didn’t skip as he had intended. Hey, I can’t keep track of your girlfriends. When I met Sasha at Christmas, I should have figured you’d break up with her. A provoking smile washed over him. She was too nice.

But Michael’s eyebrows raised. How did you know I broke up with someone today?

A guess. You always break up with your girlfriends on a Friday.

Michael just nodded.

I don’t get it, Mike. Why do you keep dating all those bubbleheaded girls? That’s got to be six this year alone.

Why not? Michael smiled at him, puffing out his chest a little. After all, chasing girls was one pursuit in which David could never adequately compete. "Senior year is coming to an end … so many girls and so little time. But upon seeing his older brother less than impressed, he added, I like their company—for a while, at least. Besides, it’s just casual dating."

David gave him the once-over. I don’t know how you do it, looking like you do. You need a good haircut and shave, and you could stand to dress a little more respectably; maybe tuck in your shirt once in a while.

Did Mom send you out here to lecture me?

David waxed indifferent, perhaps a little too deliberately. I just wanted to see my little brother. He turned and took in the lake, his face churning with intent. A long silence fell over them—until he looked at his younger brother. If it’s just casual, then why do you have to break up with them? A chiding pause followed. Mike, you’re not doing anything that Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve of, are you?

What’s that supposed to mean? And his face betrayed his embarrassment.

Saying nothing, David continued the inquisition by expression.

"No, David! Give me some credit."

David relented, making a stopping gesture with his hands. Just makin’ sure.

Silence once again fell. The brothers took in the beautiful view of the lake, while the awkwardness passed. David took into his fingers a long blade of grass directly in front of him. The singular weed grew out of the stony soil. Studying the blade for the longest time, he said, So it looks like Jennifer didn’t take it too well. A coy smile followed.

Very funny.

So who beat you senseless?

Danny Fellinger … and he didn’t beat me senseless. I got a lot of good shots in myself.

Incredible.

Surprised, Michael nodded.

"… Butthead."

"What?"

"I meant you’re an incredible Butthead."

Michael leaned away in a huff.

Danny Fellinger is twice your size, David pressed. How many times are you going to give him an excuse to beat on you?

When that blowhard finally shuts up. I’m not going to let him talk about Great Grandpa like that.

That’s not going to stop. And Danny Fellinger isn’t alone.

"But Great Grandpa changed Terrae Solaris for the good—no matter what the Weightless think; no matter what anyone else thinks either."

"You can’t fight all of Terrae Solaris by yourself, Mike. Let’s face it: from Great Grandpa and onward, our family history is one of wealth, power, and political influence—that our family thrived in and loved. It doesn’t matter that all those Gillens are gone. It also doesn’t matter that Mom and Dad raised us here in a very normal life out of the public eye. The memories of the controversies remain. As long as your last name is Gillen, you’re going to have to put up with what people say about Jonathan Gillen. Otherwise, your own denial will take you to a very dark place. So let it go. Let Danny Fellinger say whatever he wants."

Michael returned his big brother’s imploring gaze—but shook his head in defiance. I can’t. I’m just not forgiving like you—and I’m not in the mood to hear about your faith again.

Just stop fighting. You’re worrying Mom and Dad.

It’s none of their business.

David brimmed with irritation. "Then let’s talk about something that is their business: What are you going to do after graduation?"

I don’t know. Trepidation crept out from behind Michael’s flint-like gaze. I’ll figure it out. His defiance returned. "But one thing’s for sure: I’m not falling into this ‘we’re Gillens and we change the world’ propaganda. I won’t become some overachiever just because Mom and Dad think it’s our legacy."

You’re a real butthead.

"What kind of Christian talk is that?"

"It’s the truth. Mom and Dad just want you to do something with your life. You’re incredibly smart, talented, and able to accomplish anything you put your mind to. Dad told me you would be valedictorian if you had just stayed out of trouble.

"But you let your pride and this lone wolf thing get in the way: You don’t get along with anyone, and you don’t have any close friends. You dress slovenly, let your hair grow long, and don’t shave—making yourself a target for guys like Danny Fellinger. With just a little prodding from them, you fall right into their trap and give them an excuse to beat on you. You bring it on yourself. Your impulsiveness is always getting you in trouble. That’s not fair to Mom, not after everything she’s done for you."

Young Michael fumed. David said nothing. Rather, he enjoyed watching Michael pout while trying not to prove him right.

Don’t worry, Michael grimaced. Once I graduate, I’ll be out of their hair. I promise.

David pulled a small reader from his back pocket and activated it. Coming to life, the device projected a third of a meter square holographic image into the air. He fumbled through the controls while navigating the device’s file system. Speaking of which, I saw a news article today and couldn’t help thinking about all your stargazing. He handed him the reader just as the article appeared in the display.

"Earth States Military Academy? Michael grimaced, reading the headline. You want me to go all gung-ho military?"

Just keep reading.

Reluctantly, Michael complied. Soon into the article, the young man perked up and looked wide-eyed at his brother. His demeanor softened noticeably too.

If this is something you want to do, David began, relishing his brother’s change of heart, Apply quickly. It’s late in the process, and open placement slots are going fast. I’ll even write a recommendation, if you want me to. But one thing is for sure: with this new era of space exploration upon us and NSEA’s recruiting strategy, Earth State Military Academy is where you’ll want to go after graduation.

Michael, flashing him an appreciative nod, returned to his reading.

So patting his younger brother on the back, David stood and headed toward the path cutting through the thicket.

Michael pored through the article, pausing just long enough to look up at David. Hey, bro … thanks. I really mean that. … And tell Mom that I’m sorry.

David, already halfway to the trees, returned a sheepish nod. You can tell her yourself. Going a few more steps, David turned and smiled a coy smile. "And don’t worry, Mike: I have it on good authority that the academy does take buttheads. See you at dinner."

* * * * * * * *

An aging, frail Celeste DeCarreau relaxed in her favorite antique chair in her living room, keeping one hand folded over the other and her elbows resting on the thick arm cushions.

The old-fashioned room remained hushed, save a low hum emanating from the medical console resting on the adjacent end table. Now and then, she checked the tubes running from the device to the treatment wrap concealed under her dress. The inspections were purely ceremonial, for the machine was entirely adept at completing its task. So she instead passed the time by enjoying the beautiful, grassy landscape just outside the window.

However, the beautiful summer day outside was simply an illusion, a diversion. In fact, the window wasn’t a window at all. Rather, the feature was a complex projection system built into the wall, a virtual window of sorts. Every window in the home was virtual.

Neither was the modest dwelling really a house. Rather, the home was part of a multi-thousand family residence complex. The complex, like the rest of Fra Mauro City, lay buried deep beneath the surface of the Moon in the Fra Mauro Highlands.

Nonetheless, the place was her home, a place Celeste owned outright; her reward for years of hard work and dedication.

The old woman fiddled with her fingers to pass the time.

But at the sound of the front door opening, a smile washed over her.

A comely, young woman appeared from the corridor outside. The teenager’s face, already aglow with youthful effervescence and striking beauty, lit up all the more upon catching sight of the old woman. She made a beeline to the chair, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek. Hi, Grandma! How was your day?

"Welcome home, Katherine. Today was just wonderful!"

Really? Kate DeCarreau asked with a quizzical brow. Checking the medical console’s dosage settings, she caught the old woman’s grimace from the corner of her eye. Then she evaded her grandmother’s disapproval by ducking into the kitchen.

I’m surprised to see you home so soon, Celeste called out.

Kate came as far as the kitchen doorway with a small pastry in hand. Leaning her shapely form against the doorway, she curled a finger to her forehead and combed a long strand of brown hair from her eyes. Where else would I be? School’s out, I don’t have to work, and it’s a Friday. What should I be doing?

Having fun for once.

"Grandma, I enjoy spending time with you."

You flatter me … and you’re a terrible liar. But the old woman waxed in concern. "You need to get out with your friends and unwind. You’re always here."

I’m fine.

The young woman, settling in for the afternoon, preoccupied herself with a handful of trivial tasks. The first was turning on music so that it played softly in the background. When the soothing tones washed over the quiet room, she smiled and went about her business.

Why aren’t you out with a certain soccer captain? Celeste pressed, dizzying at the sight of her granddaughter bebopping around the house. I haven’t seen him lately.

We decided not to hang around each other anymore. But that was weeks ago. Still on the go, she caught her grandmother’s disapproval out of the corner of one eye.

"Katherine."

The young woman persisted in scurrying about the room.

"Katherine!"

Kate stopped in mid-stride. All the uncontainable energy left her. Her shoulders fell, followed by a heavy sigh when she turned around. "Okay, I decided that we shouldn’t hang out. She slumped into the empty chair next to the old woman. Sadness filled her. It was for the best. He wanted to be more than just friends."

"Katherine … not again."

Didn’t you always tell me to be aloof?

Aloof—not absent.

Celeste stretched out her frail arm and placed a bony hand on Kate’s knee. "Did you really not have feelings for him?"

The young woman struggled with her words for the longest time. "… I—I don’t know. Can we not talk about this right now, Grandma?"

You’re right! Celeste smiled with an abrupt enthusiasm, even patting Kate’s knee. It’s too good of a day for downers. She pointed to the table in the foyer. Go get the reader. Something very special came today in the mail.

Curious, Kate retrieved the reader from the table. Returning to the living room, she held out the device to her smiling grandmother.

It’s not for me, Katherine. It’s for you.

All the more curious, Kate activated the reader and accessed the mail. An official-looking correspondence displayed at the top, prompting her to open the letter and read. Coming to the end of the first sentence, she flashed a wide-eyed, dumbfounded gawk. "I’ve been accepted … to Earth States Military Academy?"

Isn’t this wonderful?

But I never applied to ESMA.

Celeste beamed with pride. I submitted your application to the university—other places too. This is by far the best!

But how?

Oh, it wasn’t hard: a little bit of personal data from here … a swiped granddaughter’s essay added from there … some personal insight—and poof! An intentional pause followed. You really need to watch what I ask you to sign. Sorry, dear, but I knew you wouldn’t apply voluntarily. Are you mad at me?

No. Still stunned and fighting the conflicting emotions swelling within her, she left the chair and knelt before her aged grandmother. "I’m very happy. I didn’t think I could ever get in. But why did you do this?"

Celeste strained to lean in toward her, and she searched Kate’s deep brown eyes. This is your chance, Katherine: a chance to get out of this town and finally make a life for yourself.

Kate welled up while reading the rest of the letter. I don’t know what to say. A deliberating pause followed. Grandma, we can’t afford this.

I already made arrangements to sell my equity in the house. You can use the money now, and I can live here for as long as I need to.

"Grandma, no." Her eyes welled up even more. "This is your house."

The frail woman smiled with such empathy against the young woman’s angst. Katherine, this is hard enough. The doctors may be good, but they’re not miracle workers. We have to face the inevitable: You need to move on.

I can’t leave you. And the first tears trailed down her cheeks. Please let me stay and take care of you.

Celeste, fighting back her own tears, took Kate’s face into her frail hands and beheld her beautiful features, her childlike innocence. The young woman’s tears came faster, and Celeste couldn’t help but join her sobbing. "You have a heart of gold, child. I’m so proud of you, and I love you so much."

"Please, Grandma, no."

But I won’t let you refuse. A heartfelt pause. I know what’s going on with all those boys. … You’ve had such a hard life, and you deserve better. I’m sorry I’m the only family you have left; I’m sorry to have to leave you so soon. She choked on her words. "But you’ve made too many sacrifices already. If you stay here after graduation and take care of me, you’ll just waste away with me. You’ll never leave. I won’t let that happen. No, make me proud: go make a life for yourself. … And at the right time, find someone to share it with you."

Kate, at a loss to appeal, sobbed uncontrollably. "I don’t care about finding someone … but I will make you proud. I promise."

An incredible sadness fell over the old woman, and she searched Kate’s eyes all the more. Is that what you want, child? A life that you don’t share with anyone?

Yes.

* * * * * * * *

The thin, diminutive man stood in front of the large picture window, taking in the grand city of Tyre stretched out before him.

Tyre, the capitol city of Europa, was a huge and bustling metropolis. The dense city stretched all the way to the horizon, covering and concealing the icy surface of the Jovian moon. Tyre was unmatched in its splendor and majesty among other Europan cities. Only Jupiter prominently in the blackened sky above, its brownish red-and-white marble appearance washing everything in such colors, eclipsed the metropolis’ grandeur.

From his vantage point in what had been the Prime Minister’s Residence, the middle-aged man with graying black hair beheld Parliament in the distance. The opulent structure stood out against the backdrop of the larger city. Other government structures and landmarks appeared in the same fashion, conveying the grandeur of what had been the heart of Europan democracy.

Yet the elaborately hewn Parliament building was a relic. Empty and lifeless, the structure now stood as a sad memorial to a time long gone. The ideals of democracy, having run their course, had been found wanting.

That was simply the official story. Instead, the thin, somewhat gangly man standing at the picture window had systematically laid siege to those ideals. Completely underestimated by his opponents, the tiny, balding man had eliminated everything standing between him and the power he so desperately sought.

Just that day, he had delivered the final, crushing blow to the old government. With the consent of the Europan people, Aurelian Galerius now ruled all of Europa. Just shy of his forty-eighth birthday, the man determined not to let Europa slip from his hands—as his predecessors had.

No, he would rule Europa with an iron fist.

As he surveyed his kingdom, two low-ranking soldiers appeared and began affixing to the wall two ominous-looking emblems of the new order; one would go on each side of the large window. Galerius relished the moment.

Another man, similarly dressed and slightly older and taller than the leader, entered the room. Carrying a wine decanter and two glasses, he set the glasses on a small table to the side, filled each glass about halfway, and handed one of them to Galerius.

Carus, Galerius began, lifting his glass and prompting his close friend to do the same, "Here’s to a very successful day."

Yes, my Lord.

"My Lord … I like the sound of that."

Carus lifted his glass a little higher. To Aurelian Galerius, sovereign ruler of the Europan people. Long live Aurelian Galerius.

Then they clanged their glasses together and drank.

If only my dissenters had reconsidered, Galerius mused, glancing to where his pistol sat on the table. "Perhaps things would have gone better for them. But that is the business of leadership."

Should I schedule a public celebration tomorrow?

No, just ensure that the regional governors publicly endorse my appointment. If they have any hesitation, remind them that my dissenters had the same concerns. After sipping his wine, he smiled a grim smile. But now that we have control of the military and police forces, I don’t anticipate any problems.

"Everything is proceeding as you outlined