Zakharov sat in silence as the stars shown around him. Shila hadn't arrived yet, but he was about ten minutes early. He had tried to take a nap before their meeting, but sleep didn't come easily after Meskha's message of defiance. He's been commander of the University of Planet for almost a hundred years now and not once has any of his bases shown anything but total loyalty to him. Now, as the factions began to grow aggressive, suddenly he's "declared unfit as leader."
He stood up in his seat and walked to his now-familiar star. There was a star next to it that had a codename for a designation. The same designation for the stars above and below it. Only this star hadn't been named. Out of all the stars in this room, this was the only one that hadn't been issued a proper designation.
"Still pondering random mysteries of the universe, Prokhor?"
He turned to the door to see Shila standing behind him. She had on a long beige dress and was carrying a small bag. Zakharov looked at her in surprise.
"Had I known this was a date, I would've dressed up."
She giggled and walked towards him. "Oh, it's a date, alright. I just wanted to test your reaction. You like?" She spun around in front of him.
He had an expression of confusion. "I'm fairly sure I didn't make that dress for you…how did you ever get a hold of it?"
Her expression fell. "I made it…you don't approve?"
He shook his head. "No, no, you misunderstand! It looks very nice on you, Shila. That's not what I meant at all."
Her face returned to its normal smile. "Then what did you mean?"
"I mean that I didn't program that attire. You made it…you wanted to make it?"
She nodded. "I thought you might like it…so I worked on its design last week."
Zakharov wanted to probe more of the reasons "why" she made the dress, but he was cut short by a noise emanating from the door of the Astronomic's lab. Shila faded into the Datalinks as Zakharov opened the door. A young cadet saluted him.
"Sir, the governor of Mandelev College wishes to speak with you."
Zakharov's heart fell. This couldn't possibly be good news, and he couldn't think of anything he'd want to do less then talk to Meskha again. However, he knew he had to take the call. He had to resolve the matter with her as soon as possible.
"Thank you, cadet. Please transfer the transmission to this lab."
"Yes, sir!" The cadet saluted and walked away.
"Prokhorrrrrrrrr!" Shila's voice rang in her ears as he stood before the closed door.
"Shila, you know what's going on. I have to talk to her now. Tell you what, though…meet me in my quarters, we'll talk there after this. Alright?"
She hesitated. "…well, okay. But you owe me, Prokhor!" Zakharov smiled as she faded into the Datalinks. He turned and walked to the computer, activating its communication pod, waiting for the signal to reach the room. It was a moment before the young woman appeared on his screen.
"Zakharov. I apologize for contacting you so late."
"Spare me the pleasantries, please. I know this isn't going to be news I want to hear."
She lowered her gaze. "Very well. I've decided to inform you that a new faction has been born tonight."
The annoyance he had felt before came back tenfold. "Is that right."
She nodded. "Mandelev College is now the headquarters of the Remnants of Earth."
Zakharov flinched. "I pray that this is all some joke, Meskha."
The girl shook her head. "This is no joke. And I hold no ill will to you, Provost. In fact, I contacted you first to offer a treaty of peace."
He was fairly sure that a less hardened man would've grabbed the monitor and flung it across the room. It took every ounce of resistance and culture in his very being to not come to that conclusion.
"M.-Meskha…you are a rebel base…using my resources and my land. The fact that you've created this new faction is an insult to me…and the fact that you think I would accept a peace treaty with a colony broke away from the University like a limb…is grinding salt into that wound."
Meskha nodded. "I see that you're upset. Perhaps I'll try again in the morning."
Zakharov leaned closer towards the monitor. "Reactivate your internal sensors and rejoin the University, or you'll begin a state of civil war."
The girl stood up and looked out the window behind her. "See that land out there, Provost? That is the land of Mandelev College and the Remnants of Earth. It is no longer property of the University of Planet. Therefore, it'll just be a plain old war, not a civil war. And as for that matter, you will not touch our base."
Zakharov smiled, despite himself. "No? Why not? It's our base; our faction deserves to have it back."
Meskha sat back down at her desk and stared at him. "…then I'll obliterate this base and everyone in it."
Zakharov was speechless. "You wouldn't dare. It's a major atrocity to obliterate your own base, punishable by expulsion from the Planetary Council and termination of your faction."
Meskha burned holes into Zakharov's eyes. "Not my faction, Zakharov…yours.
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Until we are accepted into the Planetary Council, we will continue to tell the members of the council that we are a working base of the University of Planet. Therefore, if this base is obliterated, then their record books will read 'Mandelev College, obliterated by University of Planet.'"
He fumed internally. "I'll contact the other faction leaders. You won't get away with this."
She smiled. "I think I already have. So unless you don't want five angry factions down your throat, I suggest you let time work out our problems on its own. We will announce our decision to the council tomorrow. Until then, rest peacefully, Provost." The screen went dead.
"Wow."
Zakharov didn't have to turn around to know that Shila was standing behind him.
"Wow is right, Shila. Wow…is most defiantly right."
She walked to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "We'll find a way, Prokhor."
Normally the touch would be distracting, but at that moment it was well needed. "If she tells the council tomorrow morning then we'll all have to reconvene at Sparta Command to vote for Planetary Governor. We have to reconvene if there's ever a chance a new faction might become Governor, so the ten year wait is abstained."
Shila's eyes lit up. "Another council meeting??"
Zakharov looked back at her. "…No, you may not tag along."
She sighed. "Why not?"
"I thought you didn't want to be noticed. Besides, having a girl in my Datapod isn't exactly a calming thought."
"Then I'll be a delegate. I want to be seen a little, anyways."
He watched as the dress she was wearing faded. She realized this and gasped. "Prokhor, stop peeking!"
He spun around. "Nothing I haven't seen before…"
"Okay, now you can look."
He turned around and saw the dress had been replaced with a business suit, along with a matching I.D. card. He looked at the name.
"Very creative, 'Jane', but you'll need a last name."
She thought for a moment. "…Zakharov!"
He choked on nothing. "Huh?"
"I could be your wife!" She giggled.
He stared at here, astounded. "We will…talk about this later. Let's go get something to eat."
She grabbed his hand as they walked out the door. "Wow, a show, and dinner!"
He smiled. "Then that does make this a date, huh?"
She just smiled.
~
