"Damn pirates," the forty-ish man grumbled, "Fifth time this week. But targeting an observatory? It's not like them. There weren't any comets anywhere near that station."
"Sir, why were they there?"
"Beats me," the man replied, picking up a cigar and chopping off both ends with an old pocket knife, "You don't mind?"
The woman shook her head. Smoking was frowned upon in some places and downright illegal in others, but people still indulged in that activity despite the dangers it posed to their health, and in military offices, the air would be cleaned and recycled, and odor neutralizers were often used.
The man placed the cigar in his mouth and lit the other end, taking a few puffs until it glowed and gray smoke curled from his mouth, dissolving into the sterile office air.
"Well, we got other, bigger problems," the man continued, taking another puff from his cigar, "The Vuresii Confederation has been demanding that we give them our classified information. Some of the higher-ups think these guys are just paranoid, others - myself included - think they're going to try taking our planets as their own."
The woman pushed a strand of loose, brown hair behind her ear and nodded, looking around the office, at the photograph of her superior with his wife and two daughters, at the simple decorations, the odds and ends and a few crayon drawings his children made that were framed on the wall with great care.
"I've been hearing talk back home about us carrying out a preemptive strike, sir," she said, "I hope to God that we aren't."
"No, Lawdon," the man said as he reached up and ran his fingers over the bill of his hat, "Though I think the Vuresii might be planning one. Same ol' deal. Back in the early days we had a few wars, thankfully they were mostly cold."
"Neither side wanted to take that last step, Sir?" Lawdon asked, arching an eyebrow.
The man at the desk shook his head.
"Some might think it cowardly," he sighed, his brown eyes glancing up at the ceiling, "But I think it's smart - don't wanna fire any missiles, in case the target might retaliate. It's like the Cold War between the former United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics."
"I read about that," Lawdon noted, "They did have a race to get man on the moon, right?"
The man nodded.
"But I hope after all these centuries, and the bloodshed in our past, we won't have to fight another war."
"Yeah," Lawdon said, "Our presidents have been avoiding war almost obsessively, thanks to the way it affected morale. Part of me doesn't know if that's a good thing, because there's always this 'what if?'. What if they are actually planning an attack? We were completely unprepared for that biological attack that took millions, including my parents and aunt."
"Which is why, Lawdon, we are working on our internal security. I am against disarmament, but I hope and pray like hell we don't have to ever use any of our weapons."
"So, do we have any other appointments tonight, Sir?" Lawdon asked.
"Yes," the man chuckled wryly, reaching into one of the oak desk drawers and pulling out a pad, "We both have to sit in at one of those 'important dinners' with the Jerrovin delegates. Then later on, Commander and Chief Kelley will be making a speech. Plus a few others. Read 'em an' weep."
"Well, looks like our day will be filled with fun," Lawdon joked as she took the pad and read over the schedule.
*****
Damn...
His head was still pounding. The man had awakened in the observatory sickbay a few hours after being shot by the pirate. The doctor had given him some drugs for the pain and treated the burns on his legs, but his head still hurt, an after-effect of the energy rifle that had been used on him.
The creature. The creature escaped. It's out there still.
All of the station's crew had been accounted for after the attack, but the creature was gone. He and the others could not rest as long as the creature was on the loose.
"Yes?"
"Lieutenant Marcos?" a voice said.
"You got him," Marcos replied, "Little worse for the wear, pissed off, but you get the idea."
"You and your crewmates are looking for this creature?" the voice asked.
"Bet your ass. What of it?"
"We may be of help. What do you require?"
Marcos' lips curled up in a slight grin. Luck was changing. Finally, his cousins would be avenged.
*****
"How was school, Janice?"
The girl plopped down on the blue, textured couch and set her backpack down beside her.
"It was okay, I guess, Daddy-Mike," she replied, "Brenda was doing her usual, flaunting that crazy throat-cancer chic look. I don't get these trends. They're just... idiotic."
"Well, how did you do on your test?" Mike asked.
"I did fine. And today, Amy, Liz and I met this older boy on the way to school. I bet he's going to the university... and he has this cute little cockatiel... can I get one - that is if I have the money?"
Mike shrugged and smiled a little, his eyes giving off that twinkle Janice was all-too-familiar with.
"I may have to work it out with Joe," he said, "But I think you know that keeping a pet is a big responsibility, and cockatoos, even the little ones like the cockatiel, can be quite demanding."
Janice nodded.
"Anyway," she asked, "Can I go and visit that guy and play with his bird? She's adorable!"
"We'll have to talk with Joe about that one," Mike replied, "You know how he feels about these things."
"It's not like I'm going on a date," the girl groaned, resting her head in the palm of her hand.
*****
Typing away busily at the keyboard, the woman frowned. She had managed to hack into the Balder 4 military network, and found some unsettling news; someone from the Vurasii delegation was bribing several family members of the Hyperion victims.
God damn. I've gotta find him.
She withdrew from the system and saved the files she had acquired on a data stick, then rose from her seat and went to her closet, going through her wardrobe. She was going to need to steal a lot more than information.
"Mother," she whispered, "I wish you were here... right now."