A few hours later, Fade awoke to a succession of thumps, high pitched squeaking, the cling of glass against glass, and the low continuous rumble of a faucet. There was a need to use the restroom, but that was all. Destiny dried glasses behind the counter with a worn white cloth before placing them on shelves underneath the bar. They didn’t have an automatic washing system, or an item crafter. Steam rose from the sink as Paul washed dishes. Chairs were already stacked on the tables.

Only one other customer remained; a man with a black leather jacket and tight curly hair that matched. A light scar sliced the back of his neck, traveling vertically from his hairline into his collar. The straggler sat at the end of the bar, nursing a warm beer. Fade stacked his chair and turned towards the door; the floor creaked under his boots.

“Wait,” Destiny yelled. “You can’t leave yet.”

Fade yawned without bothering to turn around.

“Why not?”

“Because your hat fell off while you were sleeping. I put it under the counter for safe keeping.”

Fade pushed his fingers through disheveled hair while waiting by the pool table. Destiny suspended the hat from her hands, covering a coffee stain on her white apron until he placed it firmly on his head.

“I want you to promise me you won’t die,” she said.

“Why should I do that?”

“Because if you die, I’ll hate you the rest of my life. I’ll spit on your grave. I’ll curse your soul. I’ll call you a coward. Don’t expect me at your funeral either.”

“Sounds terrible, how are you going to spit on my grave if you don’t show to my funeral? What if there is no funeral?”

“I’ll die just to upset you then!?”

“How will that upset me if I’m dead?” he yawned.

“Stop being stupid! Don’t you care about me at all!?”

He just shook his head, this woman was impossible to understand. She backed away a little bit.

“Sorry, this isn’t about me,” she explained, “It’s about your ability to defend the Empire. If you die, I actually think, that it would be bad for everyone. So why don’t you prove you’re more than just a paid thug and actually do your job without dying.”

“I thought you wanted me to stop defending the Empire so much. You don’t make sense, first you say both sides are the same, and now this? Tell you what, if things get desperate, I’ll run away like a coward instead of going kamikaze on the enemy like a good soldier. How’s that for heroism?”

“If you’re going to fight, succeed without getting killed. How can you defend anything when you’re terminated from existence. You’re supposed to obtain victory, not die. A tactical retreat is not cowardly, it’s sensible!”

Fade put a finger to her cheek, which was warm and soft, especially when she blushed.

“You know a lot of big words for a girl your age,” Fade said with a smile.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

After another well-aimed slap on his cheek, the impression of her thin fingers remained in light red. Fade gently laid his fingers on her cheek and placed his thumb under her chin. With a slight push, a suggestion of movement, he moved her head so they could gaze at each other. Destiny became pale.

“You don’t understand my work. Nothing about it is exciting. Mercenaries never get glory. We’re cannon fodder, auxiliary pawns, nothing more. I do two things in my line of work, fight and starve, but I keep going because I don’t have other options. I was born into this and I’ll die out of it. I’m scum of the universe and I’m fine with that. I like to fight. I’m addicted to death, I want to die in battle, not sitting in a support chamber because my body is decrepit. You’d never understand, not in a million years, that we’re incompatible. So stop fawning over me like an idiot.”

“You really can’t do something else with your life?”

“It would only lead to trouble.”

She stiffened, holding back her tears. He pulled her close, lifted her dress, and smacked his hand against the warm curved fabric of her tight jeans.

“Cheater, you’re wearing jeans under the dress.”

Her jaw dropped before she slapped the other side of his face. On her way past the counter she threw off her apron. The door into the homestead slammed shut.

Paul drained the sink, then motioned for Fade, who walked back to the counter reluctantly. The left side of Paul’s upper lip pushed towards his chin. His hands went underneath the counter, pressing upwards.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he said, “I want to thank you for letting her down easy. Maybe next time she’ll fall in love with someone a bit more stable. It would be more easier if you’d stop coming around flirting all the time.”

“I could care less about your daughter, she just flatters me to death,” Fade said, “I mostly come for the atmosphere.”

“Right,” Paul said, “We have such great atmosphere.”

“If you like cold,” Fade snickered.

“Let me put something bluntly. Have you found a new base for your company?”

“If I survive this, I’ll put the Imminent Destruction down on Weift. You can tell her I’m dead for all I care.”

“Destiny’s a bright girl. She’ll soon realize it was for the best. I don’t understand her obsession with you. It just seemed to happen so suddenly. She’s been doing so well with her correspondence courses that I’m thinking of sending her to the Imperial Capital to continue her education. They offered her a chance to work as a software programmer for the I.I.N. while she learns. She hasn’t shown much interest in the whole affair, but I’m sure that’ll change with you out of the picture.”

“Yah,” Fade shrugged, noticing the door behind the bar was open by the slightest degree. “How’s Bertha doing? Heard she was sick.”

“The flu. She’ll be better once it runs its course.”

“I better get out of here. Good luck with her.”

“Die honorably.”

Ten minutes later, Destiny entered. Her dress was gone, replaced by tight jeans and a pink flannel shirt. She sat a cleaning robot on the dining room floor and entered a tiny silver disc entitled: Heavy Scrub Wood Floors Only, into a thin rectangular slot. The robot scooted away from her as its brushes rotated over the floor.

“Wow, you fixed him,” Paul said, “I spent a year on him with no progress.”

“It wasn’t a mechanical problem. The programming data was contradictory. It was really simple, all I had to do was rewrite the system commands.”

The robot crawled across the floor, consistently scrubbing with its brushy feet.

“Works like a charm now,” Paul said, “You really shouldn’t be wasting away here. You could be accepted at the THHT with skills like that.”

THHT was the Thompson Heigal Horowitz Technical Academy, a vocational training facility for computer programmers in the central hub of the Imperial planet. Only the best attended.

“Don’t flatter me dad. I’m old enough to know better.”

The last customer at the end of the bar stood, laying a few H-strips on the counter. He walked over to the robot slowly. Destiny was nearby, leaning on one knee to make sure it continued to function properly. The lone patron tapped the cleaning bot with his toe.

“That man who just left ten minutes ago,” he asked, “You have a thing for each other?”

“That would be none of your business, stranger,” Destiny said calmly,

He snickered, making a ‘tch’ sound, “Too bad, you’d be wasted on a guy like that.”

Destiny glanced at the scar on the back of his neck as he exited. It looked rather deep, at least the part she could see. The door slammed shut with a chill wind.