Justin's head hurt. He could feel the migraine cutting straight through his dream, a terrible vision of the cockpit of his Y-Wing exploding in a shower of sparks and fires.

Which–when he woke up the instant later, heart pounding–he guessed was where he had been before his lost consciousness.

For a moment, he didn't know who he was, or better, where he was. His head still hurt too. Then he remembered his name was Justin Berislo, a pilot–a Lieutenant–aboard the...the Cruiser Defiance. He sat up, hand cradling his bulging head. The pain was heart-wrenching, worse with every second that passed. Vision still burry, Justin jolted his head to try and get it working fullyand wake him up. It worked, though somewhat painfully.

As his vision returned, he got more and more uncomfortable by the sights around him. The soft bed he was sitting up on was trying to comfort him, but it didn't seem to be helping very much. The room around him was decorated with all sorts of jewels. Huge, arm-sized red wine-colored circular rubies were hung in cases all around the disc-shaped room. Disc-shaped...something from his dream–oh wait, those two ships, the dead one and the one shooting at it. His Y-Wing, getting shot–

Justin threw back the brown covers of the really nice bed, and practically tripped over the long, draping bed-sheet. Tearing his foot from the sheet, Justin stood up tall and scanned around the room, now wondering why he had rushed so quickly. There was no one else in the room with him, and he noticed that he was still wearing his flight suit. Whoever had captured him apparently either liked him, or was soft when it came to prisoners–

Pat!

Where was she?!

As he remembered, she had been flying recon with him when they went into the nebula...had lead him to a planet...was chasing the disc ship that was shooting at him..and then he realized he didn't what happened to her after that. That was the part of the vivid dream where the dream had ended.

So where was she now?

Justin looked around the room. Along with those huge rubies, there were necklaces of diamonds lining the top of the wall. Paintings, two of ancient-looking ground battles, and two of just two regular people, one furry man and one furry woman, both entrenched in light, were placed in specific spots along the curving wall. At the foot of the bed was a brown, wooden artifact with purple pastel eyes. It's face was stretched out like the killer from the movie Scream, and its hands placed right-over-left on the wooden chest.

But Justin wasn't concerned with the beauty of the room–though it was nice. He had to find his partner. He started by heading towards the balcony he just noticed was on the other side of the bed. There was no glass, no shield of any kind, so he gingerly walked out into the bright sunlight–

Wait, if he was on the planet he thought he was on, the rogue one, then there shouldn't be any sunlight–

And there wasn't. The balcony overlooked a giant, multi-level city being lit by artificial sunlight from five god-like, humongous fluorescent lamps built into a rock ceiling of the cavern that this city was in. The underground metropolis had a skyline for the ages, making New York City back on Earth looks like Cleveland, Ohio. The cylindrical skyscrapers seemed to go forever; the environment around it helping it. The moisture that Justin felt on what little exposed skin that he had must have created the immense cloud of fog that the tall buildings disappeared into. The fog was dense, but not large. Justin could easily see through it to identify the fluorescent lamps that lit the city.

All of a sudden, a loud, resounding cheer erupted from below the balcony. Justin grabbed the railing and swung his gaze over it–and his jaw dropped. Far below him on a high terrace was a staggering large crowd all waving their arms and jumping up and down in happiness and joy. Some held their small children up, and some fell to their knees, hands to the sky in praise at–at–

Justin felt the blood drain from his face.

At him.

Strained shouts of joy, some of despair, raced into Justin's ears. A scattered number of the crowd hoisted posters and paintings above their heads–paintings that looked very similar to the one of the furry man back in the bedroom. Though he didn't want to start second-guessing about this situation, Justin was slowly starting to consider that that man was supposed to be him. He found it hard to believe, though, by the fact that the man looked nothing like him at all.

Because of the crowd's noise, Justin didn't hear the doors open behind him, and Patricia O'Sheen had to call his name three times before he heard her and turned around. They embraced warmly for a moment, Justin truly happy to see that his wingmate was okay. Pat too apparently, because she didn't let go for a full ten seconds. Justin had always suspected that she had a crush on him.

When she did let go, she quickly looked him in the eyes and said, "We need to talk." She turned to the three black, furry aliens that had followed her in, all carrying three books each, and all looking like the pictures on the wall. "Please drop the book–place the books on the floor and leave us," she said to them gently.

"Pat, where are–?" Justin started.

She put a finger on his lips without looking at him. "Hang on."

The aliens, all wearing gray uniforms that reminded Justin of a mechanic's jumpsuit, slowly bent over, their eyes gazing on Justin with wonder and nervousness–kind of like the crowd outside–and put the books down, without a sound, onto the shiny circular floor. They then snapped back to attention, standing stiff as boards.

"Pat–"

She raised a finger. "Shhh."

A second later, they turned in a complete 180, and started at a brisk pace towards the door, now not even looking at him at all, and exited, the circular double doors hissing closed behind them.

"Pat–"

She snapped-turned to him. "Okay, long story short, these guys think we're gods. I don't know why, because I thought I better not ask, especially since they think we're gods. Right? Right." She looked really flustered, and really confused, hands low on her hips. "So anyway, we're supposed to be gods, and we need to act like them, because we'll be executed if we don't, according to those books over there. Impersonating a god is a capital offense here. You with me so far?"

"Yes, but can I ask a question?" Justin interjected quickly.

"Sure, what?"

"Two actually. First, where are we?"

"The planet Norgodon–it's the rogue one we saw in the–in the 'hole.' in the nebula."

"Yeah I figured as much. Second, who are all these people and why do they think we are gods?"

"They're called–that's three by the way–the Katar. They're diggers, good ones too–I mean you saw that city outside, right?"

Justin nodded in awe. "Yeah. I thought I was still dreaming," he said with a dry smile.

Pat grinned wryly. "So did I. I think–"

"By the way are you all right? You look pretty good."

Pat nodded her head passively, pushing a strand of brown hair out of her face. "Yeah I'm fine. A few scratches on my hands, but they're nothing. I went down pretty easy compared to you." She flashed her brows at him inertly. "How 'bout you? How are the burns?"

"Burns? Where are they?"

"All over your face, darlin.'"

Justin's heart skipped a beat when she said that last word.

Concerned, his hand groped around his face, not taking long to find the burns. At least the one anyway. His skin felt rough around the left side of his face, and it gave off a pang of pain as he glided his fingers down it. He looked around the room for a mirror, and spotted one on the far wall, directly parallel with the big bed, leading him to question why he hadn't noticed it when he first got up. From this distance, he could already see that his face was much darker than the last time he had seen it, that morning in his quarters aboard the Defiance. As he got closer to the mirror, he saw why. The entire left side of his face–where that giant spark from the hyperdrive had hit him–was black and dark blue. It started at the tip-top of his forehead, passed over his entire left eye socket, and ended, sporadically, three-fourths of the way down his cheek. Elsewhere on his face were more burns, much less severe.

Inside, Justin laughed, because the burns made his face look like the picture on the wall. Which made him wonder....

"What are these pictures? Are they of us–of the 'gods?'"

"Yeah." She pointed to the picture of the male. "That's you, Corbollion, Ruler of the Afterlife. Its like heaven." She pointed to the other picture, the female. "That's me, Oralia, your Queen." Her tone suddenly dropped pitch in annoyance. "'Woman are second' exists here too."

Justin turned back to her and smiled. "Hey, it's not our fault if that makes you feel any better. We've just provided more over the...generations. Besides, you'll fit the Queen role perfectly."

Pat shrugged. "I'm not arguing." She smirked. "It just means that you guys have to do more work. Haha."

Justin simply kept smiling, then turned back to his reflection in the mirror. "We don't look like them though: you don't look like Cor–I mean Oralia, and I don't look that much like Corbollion, even with the burns; I have a question: what makes them think we're them?"

Pat's face flashed an alert look. "Shhh!" she hissed. "Don't say that too loudly."

"Well do you know?"

"No, I don't, but what's more important is that the Katar don't know who we really are. I read some of their laws." She bent over and picked up the top book on the left stack. She opened it and walked over to Justin. "They execute anyone who tries to impersonate Corbollion or Oralia. They rip your heart out with a spike while your still alive."

Justin froze, hair standing on end.

"Here."

Pat thrust the book in front of his face, and Justin threw up in his mouth, then swallowed it down. The picture took up an entire page, probably for emphasis on the law and its consequences. It did a good job too. The picture was a colored and detailed sketch of a tall Katar man with a large–again emphasis–red hole in his chest and his heart, still pumping out blood, on a long metal-tipped spike. The mouth was open in a frozen scream of terror, arms spread wide like he was being crucified.

Justin closed the book in Pat's hands, his mind trying to get rid of seeing him in that picture. "Okay, I get the picture. No pun intended."

"Good, and don't ever tell them, because they believe honesty. Say your not a god and they'll believe you, and then kill you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Justin said blandly. He stared at the nine thick books on the floor. "So all those books have everything I need to know about being Corbollion?"

Pat nodded. "No, but it'll be enough for now. I'll tell you what you should read." She set the book down, crooked, on top of the stack. "Now listen up 'cause there's more, if you thought being a god was unbelievable wait 'til you hear this: You're in charge of the planet now too."

Justin was dumbfounded by that. His jaw dropped a mile, and his eyes lit ablaze with an unmatched fear. "WHAT?!"

"Shhh–!"

"You-you can't be–I mean, you gotta be kidding me, I can't–" he lowered his voice to a fierce whisper. "I can't run a planet! I'm a pilot not a–a Congressmen, not a politician!" He backed away from her, panicking.

"Justin–"

"No. You do it," he said rudely. "I can't...I can't...no way."

"You have to, Justin. Your Corbollion, and the President has already resigned–"

"–Shit–!"

"–Remember–remember what happens to people who impersonate gods?" She asked, picking up the same book as before.

Justin stopped her by extending his palm flat at her. "Yeah, I remember, but...but...Pat it's a fucking planet!"

She walked over to him and placed her arms on his shoulders. "I know, I know," she said gently.

He didn't care if that was too affectionate, he needed it right now, with his mind going crazy and his hands shaking somewhat.

"I'll try to help as best I can, I promis," she said with puppy-eyes.

Justin moved away from her, turning to face the balcony. "Thanks. I'll need it."

"Your welcome, darlin.'" She smiled humorously. "I think you'll need it too."

Justin nodded his thanks, then turned back to her, trying to act as bold and strong as he could. "What do I need to know?"

Pat sat on the foot of the bed, and pointed over to the books. "Read as much of those as you can. They'll tell you enough of what you need. I'll tell the Katar's to leave you alone for a while, let you get caught up. Then I'll try and seek out some small issues that you could focus on for the time being, until we can think of a plan to get off this rock."

Justin agreed. "That's sounds good. Let's do it."

Pat nodded. "Fine. There's more you need to know that I think I'd better explain to you, but I'll do it later, give you some time alone." With that, she stood up, and gave her cutest, warmest smile. "I'll be back in a bit. Good luck adjusting."

"Thanks."

As she started for the door, Justin just stood in his place, looking at the shiny floor, thinking hard. But he couldn't. Too much pressure, too many questions. Trying to distract himself intentionally, he randomly glanced down at his watch.

And frowned. "Wait!"

Pat stopped a few paces before the door.

"Pat has it really been three hours since the...they attacked us?"

"Mmhmm," she sounded. "What about it?"

He looked up at her with suspicion. He then walked out onto the balcony again, practically glaring up at the sky. "If it's really been three hours, then where the hell has Sam?"