Amateur Megalomania

Morium walked along the corridor with her shaking hands tucked into the sleeves of her robe, hiding them from the occasional Crew. She focused on the deck as she walked, ignoring the naked hostility in the glances of some, and the careless disdain from others. Thankfully, the late hour assured that most were either asleep in their quarters, or taking their post-shift meal.

She balled her shaking hands into fists and fought against the impulse to run. The tremor moved up her arms. Keamanan had thought he was the target, but she wasn’t so certain.

She knew one of the men.

She had seen him before, down below. The image returned without effort, and she saw Resnig meeting with a rival leader, working to negotiate a consolidation against the Crew. The assassin stood with the rival, and she remembered their eyes meeting for an instant, a mutual gaze at the same moment, pausing just long enough to acknowledge one another before moving on. The memory left her with another shiver.

She couldn’t tell Keamanan. He wouldn’t be surprised if she admitted her association with the Compact, but despite all that he had done to her, she couldn’t bring herself to force him to lie for her. Angrily, she shoved the thought aside, disgusted at her own weakness. In the end, she knew she couldn’t do it, and she refused to accept the reason why.

Damn him for all of his honesty. And damn him for being truthful to her, despite what that meant.

She rounded a corner and passed by a clump of people heading the opposite direction. Crew, not people. Keamanan’s words bit into her, and she resented the truth behind his taunting. She had grown too comfortable up here, living with the Crew. But what else could she do? She was the representative, and that meant she had to be close to those that held the power.

And Resnig hated it. He hadn’t said it openly, but she could tell by the way he grew cold whenever she had to leave him, to return to the upper decks. Their relationship was built on a foundation of exploitation, but there was some small core of emotion beneath the politics and power. She needed him as a conduit to those that would fight the Crew, and he needed her for her access to those he fought. It made too much sense for either of them to ignore, and they carried too much respect for one another to pretend that each was unaware of the needs of the other. Whatever emotion had initiated the relationship had been crushed beneath the needs of the Cuplable, but she suspected enough of it remained to cast doubt on the idea that Resnig could ever wish her harm.

Whether that doubt stemmed from pure emotion or naked utility was not entirely clear to her, and she was surprised to find herself wishing for the emotional reason.

But Resnig would kill Keamanan if he ever had the opportunity. Despite the harm it would bring to the cause, Resnig would give in to his irrational side to take his vengeance. Maybe this was a simple attempt, and her worries were unfounded.

But either way, the incident required attention. It could easily spark the conflagration she had worked so hard to avoid. Planetfall would be announced soon, and with it, the Riots were inevitable. History would be repeated, and people would die.

Morium arrived at the door to her cabin. This part of the Crew sector was relatively empty, since most Crew would consider a berth assignment near her as an insult. The cluster of four cabins provided housing for her and her three aides, as well as a small office for her work. She paused at her door. Is she was indeed the target, then a second attempt would be likely. However, if whoever had initiated the attack had the power to touch her here, well within the Green Zone, then there would be little she could do to prevent the attack.

She took a deep breath. Death didn’t frighten her, but she hated the idea that her death might be used to further someone else’s agenda. She intended to use her death to her own ends, just as she lived her life.

The door slid open at her command, revealing a figure seated at her table.

Morium recognized Sasha immediately. The older woman sat on the edge of the seat, as if the seat back bristled with spikes. Her tattered robes enfolded her frail body, and her graying hair framed her tired face in a halo of dignity. Sasha was her longest serving assistant, and one of the few that had not been dismissed due to Keamanan’s constant security sweeps.

Morium stepped into her cabin and the door slid shut behind her. She glanced around the small room, not really expecting to see anyone else. Sasha seemed to wait for Morium to satisfy herself before she spoke. “Resnig wants to see you. Now.”

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