The Destiny Dance

* * *

Hursh was filling out reports, when two burly guards walked in. Omer walked in behind them. His face was a mask of icy cold calm. So they had figured it out, Hursh thought calmly; it was only a matter of time. It did take longer than he thought it was going to. Perhaps he had a secret sympathizer. At this point they only had about six hours left before the virus was released. He stood.

"I always suspected you, Otak," Omer explained calmly. "Just too many things were going wrong. It didn't make sense for such a born professional like you."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Grol," Otak urged. "Are you really going to kill everybody because you lost your wife? This is not what Charlotte would want! This is not what Addy would want! I know you remember them somewhere deep inside. Please, stand this plan down, stand everyone down."

"You don't get to speak for them. You are nothing! Less than nothing."

"We grew up together, Grol, we went to the same academy together. You were my best man at my wedding, and vice versa. There is a good man still in there. Don't do this Grol!"

"You forget who you are speaking to," Omer explained coldly. "I am your master, the Master of House Caer'Nin. By the way, we carried out the plan several hours ago, once we discovered your treachery. The virus has been released." To the guards he said calmly, "Shoot him."

The senior guardsman drew his weapon, but did not shoot. "To a cell with you, traitor!" Hursh was led off, out of the room. But it didn't matter what happened to him because the plan had been carried out. All was lost. He had to at least try to make this right.

He slammed himself backward into the guard who was pointing the gun at him. The poor fellow was not expecting it and dropped the gun. Hursh had it in his hand and turned toward Omer. The other guard was too startled to do anything.

Omer hit him in a desperate flying tackle. Hursh almost had the wind knocked out of him, and certainly lost his balance. He shot anyway. He felt warm blood oozing over him.

Omer stood up, triumphantly grinning. "You old fool," he wondered coldly. "Did you really think that was going to work? Look at you!"

Suddenly Omer sat back down. His ribs had been blown inward by the bullet. "Oh my," he whispered. "That hurts... It hurts so much..." Hursh was at his side when he died.

* * *

The Os'Ben had 24-hour drones standing by at all possible exits from the Keep. They were prepared for treachery from the moment Ola sent word. They were taking no chances. Those exits would be watched. They sent two missiles each hurtling into the decoy and the primary target, both of which were utterly destroyed. The virus never had a chance to mix.

Three days later, at the invitation of Athowyn, Master of House Caer'Nin, representatives of the Great Houses of the Kik'Irn, the U'Tach, the Os'Ben, and tens of thousands from the Sprawl, were invited to a three day festival of the Destiny Dance on the grounds of the Great Keep. Athowyn wasn't sure how many

would accept.

When the invitation returns were finally tallied she was relieved, but also a little alarmed, to see that the numbers were quite high, too high in fact. She would have to ask for help with food from the Houses. Her father had been planning on murdering everybody, he hadn't exactly looked after the pantry.

Those were minor concerns however. General Grant Ruben--one of the toughest humans she knew--had been reinstated, although he was seriously contemplating a career at the Academy. The hero Otak Hursh had decided to stay on for two years after which he was looking forward to retirement, and "showing his great-grandkids a thing or two about crawdad fishing."

Bolly, Ola, and Tommi all joined her for the Destiny Dance, even though Tommi could barely walk.

She wasn't sure what would happen after the Dance, but she knew it would be full of hope and possibility, and not fear.

The End