2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office
Later that evening, Colonel Moore stood in the Atrium waiting for the elevator.
He appeared utterly exhausted, as officers frequently did at the end of a long day. His posture reflected as much, and he stood there with a half-unbuttoned jacket, slouching with his hands buried deep in his pockets. It was a look wholly unbecoming of a senior officer, but the Atrium was nearly abandoned at this time of night, and he seemed confident no one was watching.
He noticed a slight movement behind him, but paid it barely any mind. He simply closed his eyes and sighed, as one does when they’re in no mood for conversation.
His disappointment was subtle, and lasted barely a moment. He straightened up and shot a cursory glance over his shoulder, but quickly snapped to attention when he saw who it was.
“Good evening, Sir,” he said.
“Colonel Moore,” Harlow nodded as he came to a stop beside him. His hands were buried in his pockets too, and he didn’t meet Moore’s eyes, but rather stared straight ahead. “At ease.”
Colonel Moore nodded in reply and settled back into that same relaxed posture. “How’s your evening, Sir?”
Harlow shrugged. “Same as always. Can’t complain. How fortunate, though, that I should run into you here. I’ve got a question for you.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“How would you like that nomination for a Council seat?”
Moore frowned. “I wasn’t aware there was a vacancy.”
“There’s about to be.”
A silent understanding passed between them, and realization dawned across Colonel Moore’s face as to exactly what was being asked of him. Harlow, however, remained stoic as ever.
Moore cast a furtive glance around the Atrium and lowered his voice. “You’ve chosen to discuss this here, of all places?”
Harlow kept his eyes trained directly ahead. “Yes, I have.”
Moore inhaled sharply and nodded.
“Fine,” he whispered. “I don’t normally take jobs like this, but as I said, in your case, I might be willing to make an exception. How soon do you want it done?”
“Tonight.”
Colonel Moore’s expression changed, and this time he seemed genuinely taken aback. Neither had the opportunity to speak further, though, because the elevator doors opened in front of them. He stepped inside with Harlow following close behind, and as soon as those doors closed, he turned toward him.
“Are you insane?” he hissed. “I have my limits. There’s better than me out there—true professionals—and even they wouldn’t take a job like this. Do you know how much they’d charge for a request like that, provided you can find someone who’s even willing to entertain the idea?”
Harlow shrugged. “I’m not asking them, I’m asking you.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Moore replied. “Just to reiterate, you’re asking me to do this with less than twenty-four hours’ notice, and you’ve offered me the vacant position as payment. Do you not think that’ll arouse suspicion?”
“Eight hours, actually,” Harlow said. “We’ve got until tomorrow morning.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Moore said nothing in reply; he simply drew a sharp breath.
“A Council seat, Colonel Moore,” Harlow repeated.
Moore appeared to be thinking this over, then shrugged. “Normally I wouldn’t even spare this a thought, but given who we’re talking about...” He trailed off. “Why the urgency, though?”
Harlow closed his eyes. “I met with him tonight,” he began. “In private. No aides, no bodyguards... just the two of us, alone.”
He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “He told me everything. I won’t disclose the details, but it’s worse than we thought. He’s not merely plotting a coup; he wants to turn the Corps into his own private mercenary force. He’s already laid the groundwork for it, and he’ll tell whatever lies are necessary and manipulate whoever he needs in order to make that dream a reality. He’s securing an immense amount of power for himself, and he’s ruining innocent lives in the process. He fully expects to succeed, too, and he very well might unless he’s stopped—now. I made it abundantly clear that I intend to put an end to this, and he let me know in no uncertain terms that if I try, I won’t survive. If he gets his way I’ll be gone within a day or two, and you know what’ll happen next. If you do this for me, I’ll give you anything you want, even that Council seat. It’s as good as yours, should you pull this off.”
Moore studied his face for a moment, then looked away. “I hope you recognize the stakes, at least,” he said quietly. “The probability of success is low, and you know what’ll happen if we’re discovered. They won’t bother with a court martial; we’ll simply find ourselves at the end of a rope.”
Harlow clasped his hands tightly in front of him. “I’m aware.”
“Just so long as that’s understood.”
Harlow said nothing in reply, and after a thoughtful pause, Moore shrugged. “You know, I might as well confess something while we’re here. If you don’t mind my speaking freely—”
“Not at all. In fact, I prefer it.”
Moore nodded. “No matter how tired I am, certain thoughts always keep me up at night, and lately, the one that’s been front and center is the realization of just how much I’ve sacrificed for this career.” He glanced across the narrow gap between them. “I’ve spent half my life here. Anything they asked of me, I did without hesitation. You can’t even imagine what I gave up for this—how much I never even realized I had to lose. The things this war took from me.” He pursed his lips and looked away. “They don’t tell you that part when you’re seventeen. If only we’d known.” He sighed. “And guess how much of that sacrifice has been repaid in kind?”
Harlow said nothing. He knew.
“Our generals are either wholly self-absorbed, woefully incompetent, or both,” Moore continued. “And now they seem to think I want the pleasure of their company.” He sighed again, and his voice grew quieter. “And of all the members of that Council, the only one who gave me even the slightest bit of hope was one I’d discounted entirely—the one who arranged a covert meeting and begged for help.”
He turned away, keeping his gaze trained on the far wall. “After Wittenauer’s ousting, I’d held on to hope that better things might lie ahead, but after learning of your nomination, that changed real damn fast. That was the moment the illusion fell away, and I finally realized the full depth of corruption surrounding us.” He shrugged. “But as a non-Council member, what was to be done? I watched it all happen—the swearing-in of a chief of staff who should’ve never even made lieutenant; who was younger than some lieutenants, in fact. Who’d clearly been installed in a position of power to do the bidding of warmongers and generals. We all knew you’d never dare oppose them, lest you lose the fleeting grace you’d been granted. And yet,” he shrugged again, “here you are. I thought you’d fall flat on your ass and be gone within a year, just like everyone else they’ve put in that seat, and even now, as you’re standing here talking to me, I have trouble believing otherwise. I have to ask—did Howard put you up to this?”
Harlow shook his head. “Nobody sent me here to talk to you tonight. No one even knew of that meeting, save for our own personal staff. It was my choice, and mine alone.” He shrugged. “As I said, I received some guidance—I was given your name as a last resort, should I need it—but I’d never turn to such drastic measures unless every other option had been exhausted. I’m acting of my own volition, and I’m doing what needs to be done.”
Moore thought this over. “I’d never have predicted such a bold request from anyone in senior command, much less you. What made you finally decide to challenge them?”
Harlow closed his eyes. “I’m not afraid anymore,” he said. “I’m not intimidated by anyone on that Council, and I don’t care what they do to me. I just want this to be over.”
The very words themselves seemed tired, and his voice carried a heavy sense of weariness. Moore studied him again, and those eyes contained a newfound appreciation, as if, for the first time, he truly respected him—not merely as an authority, but one he might regard as fit to lead.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said quietly.
Harlow nodded. “You’ll receive that nomination when the vacancy opens.”
Their conversation was cut short when the elevator doors opened again. Colonel Moore turned to face his commanding officer and saluted—a gesture clearly meant for the benefit of the security cameras.
“Goodnight, Sir,” he said. Then he lowered his voice. “Regardless of the outcome, we’ll never speak of this again.”
And with that, he turned and walked away.