The pnet’s sun set on the horizon.

  The moon rose shortly after.

  Shadows fell over the Soryu family farm.

  Vanessa hoped against hope that she would not hear the howling that night, yet it came all the same. The piercing sound drove its way across the shadows of night, sneaking into her bedroom to scratch at her ears.

  The howlers snuck their way into the farm as well. Cwing and scratching their way through the fences, they creeped into the barn and began to devour everything in sight of their fred snouts.

  With their noses awash in crimson, they feasted on the Sheep and Grogrung that Vanessa had spent so much time caring for and tending to.

  The rest of her family slept soundly through the night, but not her. Vanessa was brave. Brave like her Father, the soldier. There would be no point in waking her useless siblings. They weren’t hard workers like she was. Mother should stay asleep too. She had been squeamish since Father died, and seeing her like that made Vanessa feel sick and embarrassed.

  No. She would be the protector, just like Father.

  And when her family woke at daybreak, they would all thank her for her bravery and perhaps even bake her those sweets she loves so much.

  That wouldn’t happen if the wolves took the farm, though. She could not let that happen.

  She would not let the wolves take her family’s farm.

  She unlocked the door. Opening it slowly, the metal hinges creaked as she clutched her pitchfork. It was her mighty weapon, her spear in the darkness.

  She would not let the wolves take her farm.

  She ran for the barn, draped in nothing but her nightgown, and holding nothing but the pitchfork.

  The shadows of night were cold and dark, and the moon’s light was faint and flickering, yet she charged into battle nonetheless as the wolves howled and feasted.

  They had crept their way in, and she would drive them out. Drive them out all on her own.

  She drove her pitchfork into the back of one as it licked up the blood of one of her sheep. The hairy four-legged beast let out a pathetic and disgusting whelp as it died.

  The pack turned at the sound.

  They barred their teeth, snarling.

  Vanessa held out her weapon as the wolves approached her.

  They would have revenge for their fallen brother.

  Vanessa smiled, a wide, proud smile, “You snuck in and killed my sheep,” she told the pack full of thin, shedding, dogs, “You should have stayed hungry.”

  The starving pups leapt at her, then she woke up.

  Vanessa twists her head. Her hair is sprawled out on the bed like a puddle. She’s let it grow far too long, but barbers are hard to come by on Tethaseele.

  Gray bald freaks probably thought we were all wearing hats when our species first met.

  That is Vanessa’s first thought of the day, that and: The sun is out.

  She yawns and leans up against the bedrest. She rolls her eyes at the sight of Tendo. He’s bnkly staring out from the balcony again, as he’s done every morning they’ve been here.

  It’s already horrid enough that the Martian Council has to watch over her every hour of the day except for when she’s in her bed chamber, but the fact that Vanessa has to share a bed with Tendo adds to that unpleasantness.

  The man hardly sleeps, and hardly wants to do anything else involving a bed…

  Vanessa has even begun to doubt that Tendo is a man, especially after what he did in Rome. However, those abilities proved useful then and are still useful now. Vanessa isn’t just keeping him around just for appearances' sake; Tendo is her tool. But that doesn’t mean she has to be fond of him.

  “I do hope that none of those buildings stood up and walked away while I slept.”

  Tendo doesn’t even huff at her sneer. She tosses the bedsheets aside and stands, “I’m going to get dressed, don’t turn around or you’ll see me naked. We both know how much you would hate that…”

  Tendo doesn’t look back.

  Vanessa once had her personal guard assist her in donning her fine red and white uniform. Now the task falls on her and her alone. She can tighten all the straps and drape her cape over her shoulders as efficiently as any of her men could. Still, when Loeb would button the sleeves around her wrists and pin the phoenix fg onto her left breast, Vanessa would feel as grand as the day that the Republic cape first made its way onto her shoulders.

  That feeling is all but gone now.

  “Tendo, dear,” Vanessa sighs, “are you going to stare down at the Martians all day, or do you intend to join me?”

  Tendo does huff at that. He moves away from the balcony as well, although that is far less of a triumph. Vanessa adjusts her beret and the bck tassel that hangs from it a final time before opening the door. The Martian guards greet her just as they have every day that she has been on Tethaseele.

  “Reovil, Enidrun, Good morning, gentlemen.”

  As always, the men say nothing as they walk Vanessa and Tendo to the dining hall. Although Vanessa has been careful to note the fact that Enidrun’s rge bck eyes have been holding on her thighs as of te, while Reovil’s tend to hold on his own spear.

  I hate that they work in pairs, Vanessa thinks as she drinks her tea and Tendo bites into the wormed tenderloin that she won’t so much as touch.

  The councilors are smart, I’ll give them that much. Especially that Endariv fellow. He knew that if I were able to pry even one guard away, I could perhaps have a second of privacy. But no, two outside my bed chamber, two in every hall, two in the garden, two in the study, and four with me every time I leave this dreadful pce.

  And some say my sentence is a merciful one…

  Vanessa takes one final sip of her tea.

  This year can’t go by fast enough.

  “An incident occurred on the former Division colony in the seventh region sor system.”

  “I forget which one that is again. Adamus, what was it originally called?”

  He flips through his papers until coming across the name, “Zamizer.”

  Vanessa pces a palm on her cheek. “Zamizer…” She recalls it now. The pnet was used as a training ground for Division soldiers during the war. It was a boot camp of sorts, one with awfully cold winters from what she’s heard.

  “What was the incident?” She asks Adamus.

  He stands and adjusts the new Republic uniform he’s found himself in. He gnces at the guards behind Vanessa for far too long before he clears his throat and motions for Dyndra to dispy the reports.

  “As you can see, Madam President, a quarter of the Officers occupying the pnet, Zamizer, as it was originally called, died in the line of duty in a brutal incident in the vilge a hundred Kiloclicks out from the Spaceport in the pnet’s western region.” The girl spoke for Adamus, but the boy said the next words himself, the ones that were easy to memorize. “The suspects have been apprehended, according to the Warden of workers, but it is worth noting that the men are few and only three are able-bodied.”

  “So?” Vanessa shrugs, “The Scorched Archer killed over half that number with her bare hands, why would three fanatics not be capable of something simir?”

  Dyndra nods as Adamus sits. Vanessa removes her palm from her cheek and taps the round stone table. “Is there something else, Dyndra? You look like you have something to say.”

  The girl’s eyes widen. Vanessa nearly smiles.

  Dyndra hadn’t been her first choice to be her primary liaison on Tethaseele, but the man Vanessa wanted volunteered to oversee the ash and rubble that is now Rome, and the man she needed died helping turn Rome into said ash.

  However, Dyndra has proven herself to be a woman more than worthy of the position. She’s young, ambitious, and most importantly, loyal.

  If Vanessa had gotten Dyndra as a daughter in her marriage with Tendo in pce of Cassandra, she would have been more than happy to py the role of Mother as opposed to the cold teacher that she had to be.

  “I do indeed have something to say, Madam President.”

  “Speak away.”

  The girl flips through her reports, showcasing the statistics for Vanessa to see. “What happened on Zamizer is becoming a grave pattern. Frax, Idletarn, Gravengrad, the current struggle over the wreckage of Rome, Adamus may have handed the reins of the Division to you, Madam, but many still resist your rule. With your permission, I would like to—”

  Vanessa raises a hand. The eagerness of youth, she curses. “The Division bled enough during Rome. I won’t win anyone over by pressing a boot to their neck.”

  “Is that not what you’re already doing?”

  I did not ask you to speak Tendo. Vanessa grits her teeth, clutching her raised hand into a fist before she lowers it. “Yes, dear, many feel that way, and I can understand it. For years, the Division had a boot over the entire universe's neck. However, it is now my heel that is pressed against humanity's throat, and I will let it off soon enough.”

  Tendo merely folds his arms at Vanessa’s expnation. He still doesn’t understand, she thinks, and he still misses his idiotic daughter, despite the fact that it was her who abandoned us…

  “I understand that Madam President,” Dyndra huffs, her eagerness yet to subside, “But I’m afraid that the Division loyalists are yet to see your mercy. That is what we need now, mercy. If we extend our aid, lead forces to provide relief to those dispced by our occupations—”

  “Extend aid? Lead forces?” Vannessa tilts her head, “Dyndra, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were calling for war.” Her remark finally makes the girl realize how brash she’s being. The Martians grow tense with the statement, but it needed to be said.

  Her pn is to have the Republic absorb the Division. For it to slowly crumble and fade away, just like Gelmidas’s horrid Rusting has done to all metal in the universe. Humanity is now close to having gone a full thirteen years without war.

  Vanessa will not let herself be the one to break that record.

  Dyndra sets down her stack of reports and folds her arms. “My apologies, Madam President, I fear I misspoke. I’m not suggesting violent action or for us to overstep our bounds.”

  Well, you're certainly already overstepping your own, Vanessa keeps the comment to herself as the girl continues, “I merely meant that something must be done about those who are reluctant to accept our rule.”

  “And those who remain loyal to the Division,” Adamus adds.

  One of the Martian guards raises his brow. “Your Father led the Division. Are they not your people?”

  Vanessa is prepared for the worst, but Adamus quickly corrects the slip-up with another memorized line. “My Father is dead. The Division are not my people.” He stands, “My people died in Rome.”

  “And we grieve for them every day, Adamus,” Vanessa says as she rises from her chair with Tendo and Dyndra.

  “I’d say that this was quite the productive meeting.” She smiles.

  Dyndra nods, accepting the lie.

  Tendo, however, is far less accepting and is sure to state so as he accompanies Vanessa to her check-in with the council. “You’re choking them.”

  “Who?”

  Tendo gnces at the Martian guards behind them before whispering, “The humans.”

  Vanessa stumbles at the words, nearly tripping over her heel in the wide tiled hall leading to the Council chamber. She gres at both Tendo and Adamus, “Neither of you should be calling us that, as far as everyone knows, both of you are—”

  “Investigator Feydrum?” Dyndra calls out to the Martian in the distance.

  Vanessa’s eyes narrow. What is he doing here? She had hoped to never see that troublesome man ever again.

  The Maritan investigator rises from the bench outside the council chamber, dusting off his coat as he points at the girl. “Dyndra Starlin? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  She stands firm at Feydrum’s approach. “We haven’t. I wasn’t here for President Soryu or Mr. Atheneum’s trial, but I was well-informed of the role you pyed in both.”

  Feydrum stands silent for a moment. “... Well, it was a joint trial.”

  Vanessa holds back the urge to punt both Dyndra and Feydrum into the nearest bzing torch.

  However, the girl goes on to prove to Vanessa why she deserves to be kept around. “Yes. So what is it you’re doing here? The next trial is set for tomorrow, and one of your fellow investigators told me that you’re yet to take on another case.”

  Feydrum seems to scowl at Dyndra’s inquiry. Or at least Vanessa sees it that way. It’s always hard for her to read the facial expressions of these gray-skins.

  “I’m here on a… Friend’s behalf.”

  “Who’s the friend?” Vanessa asks.

  “It’s a private matter.” Feydrum coldly states before asking something of his own, “I thought that only you and Adamus were to check in with the councilors.”

  Dyndra shrugs, sticking up for the whole group, “The first gentleman has the right to join his wife for activities. And I am the liaison who provides the madam president with the information necessary for her to govern. Pray tell, Investigator, can you remind me what it is that you do? Besides, pry into people's lives, of course.”

  She truly is the mirror image of my youth, Vanessa tells herself with great reverence.

  Feydrum smiles at Dyndra, “I think that your Madam president is running a fair bit te for her check-in now, Ms. Starlin.”

  The girl rushes to the council chamber door.

  Vanessa gres at Feydrum as she marches over to that same door with Adamus and Tendo.

  “No, no! Uhhh…” A rather anxious Martian Councilor steps forward to hold the door open in pce of Dyndra.

  Vanessa recognizes him as Councilor Yararum. He had been among the first Councilors to greet her on Tethaseele and among the first to oppose her as well. What is he doing outside of the chamber?

  He opens the wide doors for the group. It is in that instant that Tendo snatches Yararum by the head and grips a glowing hand around his neck as a wall of metal shoots up in the doorway, sealing it off.

  Vanessa jumps backward in shock. Her gaze drifts down to the floor.

  Blood is seeping in through the cracks in the tiles.

  More metal rises from that blood as Tendo calls from behind the wall, “One more move and I kill him!”

  Vanessa can’t see what’s happening within the chamber. But she hears the murmurs of the other councilors.

  She can imagine their dismay at the sight of her husband stating such a thing in reference to Yararum. She can also imagine how far back this is going to set her efforts.

  “Go ahead, Schor,” a voice calls from down the hall, marching toward Vanessa.

  The blood between the tiles contorts around the group, separating Vanessa from Dyndra and Adamus.

  The voice calls out to Tendo again, “I already got what I needed from him anyway.”

  Yararum screeches, “You bastard! You promised to help me kill him, too!”

  Vanessa recognizes the one marching down the hall now as they draw a dagger with a hand wrapped in a bandana. “I know Yararum… But I’m only here for one man.”

  She stared down at them once and thought them helpless. Beneath her.

  Now, Vanessa has learned that Smith is not someone to underestimate.