DECEPTION

Chris Vennettilli

April 5th, 3239, 2201 hours

UN Security Council building

New York City

President Cleary and the vice-president's death could be ruled as nothing more than an unfortunate mishap. It had been all over the papers and news channels. The President's personal star-liner had experienced an 'unfortunate slipspace accident' in which it was transported into a dense asteroid field, no doubt caused by a faulty Shaw-Fujikawa Slipstream generator.

The resulting events were brutal. Iron-nickel asteroids bashed the ship, crushing it into a crumpled mess. Anybody who survived the initial crashing of the rocks would have died of either asphyxia slowly through the hundreds of tiny hull breaches, freezing as the electricity was killed or through starvation of being in trapped compartments. As the wreck had been found an approximate two weeks after it's noted disappearance. The inspection teams noted that it the asteroids made a clean job of it. Not a single person of the hundred aboard was alive.

The most powerful men in Human space were dead.

Since the President and Vice President of the United Nations Assembly were killed in the accident, the leader of the General Assembly was promoted to the post of President. This honor went to Head Delegate Troy Marshall.

President Marshall was sworn in a week after the death of Cleary became public.

Marshall was sitting in his chair surveying the city of Manhattan. The skyscrapers below him were glittering in the night. Billboards and television panels plastered the buildings. Millions of lights representing cars on the roads or in the skies darted through these buildings. In his hands, Marshall held a glass of Arcturian White Vodka with a mint leaf in it. Marshall thought a good drink calmed him down.

It was 3239; he was President.

This was HIS government now. He got up and paced around his office, taking time to straighten his tie in front of a mirror. He stroked his thin goatee thoughtfully as he surveyed his reflection. He then heard a knock on the door, soft against the wooden paneling.

"Come in." He said calmly.

The door slid open, revealing his vice president and several other men. Some he knew, others he didn't. He waved them into his office.

Vice President Henry Qualm was a Supreme Court judge. He was younger than a usual judge because of friends in high places. Now, he was Troy's right hand man.

"Who are these men, Henry?" Marshall asked.

"Men I trust, and you should too."

The president was suspicious. "I trust we are not being monitored?"

"No sir. This office is clean. Security cameras show an empty room."

Troy breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." He glanced at the other men. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?"

There was a chorus of "No, Mr. President among them."

Marshall then turned to Qualms. "I thought it was going to be just us, Henry."

"Trust me."

He gripped his glass tightly and nodded. "OK. Alright."

Troy cleared his throat and looked at the other men. "I...don't know if you're aware of what happened, but we have a situation on our hands. The reason I called the vice president to me is because I need his help. I assume that you can help me as well."

One of the men, a balding man with thick glasses stepped forward.

"Mr. President, my name is Howard Tudyk. I am on the board of the Office of Naval Intelligence. These men are in similar areas of the defense department. You need anything from us, and we are behind you a hundred percent."

Marshall nodded. He felt safer now.

"My attention has been directed towards our anthropomorphic friends."

"The Mobians?" Another man asked.

"Yes, the Mobians." Marshall said not looking at him. "We need to talk about information."

Tudyk arched an eyebrow, interested. "What sort of information?"

Marshall cracked a small smile. He went to his desk, sat down, and clicked a hologram on. An image popped up. It was the representation of a Mobian Royal: Sally Alicia Acorn.

"That's her Highness!" A man said.

"Correct." Marshall said. He was annoyed that a man in that position would need to state the obvious.

"Her Highness, Sally Alicia Acorn, age 25, was reported missing in late 3235, reappearing along with the UNSC Phoenix on January 20th 3238. But we're not interested in her."

That sent a bit of confusion through the men. Even Qualms was a bit confused.

"What do you mean, Troy?" He asked with intention.

"Getting this information was a little difficult, but bear with me, Henry." he turned his attention back to the rotating hologram of Acorn's head and upper body. "Miss Acorn has been sharing information with a young man. This is who we are interested in."

Acorn's hologram disappeared and was replaced with that of a young man. He was clean shaven, wearing a military cap. He had piercing green eyes and a no-nonsense look about him, despite not being all that old.

"This is Captain Christopher James Vennettilli, member of the United Nations Space Command Marine Corps. Been in service from 3234 to 3238. Formally discharged on January 20th and is currently assisting in training new troops under what used to be the Freedom Fighters, now known as the Special Tactics Assault and Rescue team."

"So, what does this guy know?" A man asked.

"More than he should." Marshall tapped a button and combat reports slid through thin air.

"He's a decorated soldier. Been in two wars, stopped missiles from being launched, and a whole lot of unimportant psych reports and assignment listings. He assisted in the capture of Lyle Fukoma."

He let that sink in.

"It says here that Vennettilli has also had multiple contacts with the anomalies known as Chaos Emeralds. Each time, he retained them in custody, on HIS PERSON when, according to military law, he should have handed them over to his immediate commanding officer."

Qualms cleared his throat. "Sir, if I read the reports correctly, Vennettilli was moved out of the 182nd officially and reassigned to Omega Squad for the Mixed Squad project. There was no immediate superior officer."

Ah. That's right. Marshall thought. "All the same, he should have relinquished them. He is still in violation. We also believe that he has come into contact with strategically significant objects on Mobius and seen systems that he should have reported."

Tudyk raised his hand slightly. "Sir, if I am understanding you correctly, are you saying that Captain Vennettilli has been withholding information from the government?"

"That's exactly what I am saying, Mr. Tudyk. We have an information breach. Captain Vennettilli should have been debriefed by the military years ago, but due to his relationship with the Princess, our government decided to overrule the decision." There was a hint of bitterness in Marshall's voice.

"Sir, shouldn't a soldier have teammates?" A man with the marks of a colonel said.

"Yes, but unfortunately, Vennettilli has a bit of a habit of living when other people die. We have no traces on any other protectors. They are all KIA. Barring that, they are extremely well covered.

Another man raised his hand. "Mr. President, what IS the Captain's relationship to the Princess exactly?"

Marshall's mouth twitched. "We believe that it is an intimate one. Social or sexual, we are not sure which, but if they are in a relationship, they're sharing secrets, and we cannot have that."

"What are you suggesting, Mr. President?" Tudyk asked.

"I'm saying," Marshall said through gritted teeth, "that we have a loose end that needs to be tied."

"You're ordering an assassination." the colonel said.

"No. I'm ordering you to bring me Vennettilli for questioning. We are not trying to kill the man. He has information that is vital to the government. Call it an information handoff."

Qualms placed his hands on the table. "This man's status among the Mobians makes him a dangerous target. If we try to take him, the Royals will know something is amiss and will react...harshly. We're talking trade embargos, tariffs, possibly even hostilities. Other races might notice…"

"We will be discreet." Marshall promised. "Tudyk!"

"Yes, Mr. President!"

"You're on the ONI board. I'm making it your personal responsibility to get me men to bring this guy in. Make sure they're armed in case he resists."

"Yes sir!"

Qualms looked to the group of people and then to Marshall. "Sir, the Captain would have friends in close proximity. What if they try to intervene?"

"They are of no importance. Neutralize them."

The men looked at each other. Neutralize them? That would be stepping over a very important line, and it was clear that none of these men wanted to tempt fate. But this was the man that signed their checks, but more importantly, could have them 'removed' in the blink of an eye.

Quietly, they all filed out, leaving the president to look over the city, drink in hand. They had jobs to do, and they had to do it fast. If President Troy Marshall said it was bad, they had to believe him.

What choice did they have?