An hour later, Justin's eyes were starting to get sore and heavy from reading. He lay stretched out on the white bed, chin propped up on his crossed arms, like a teenager. He had long since taken off his boots, and they lay angled away from each other at the foot of the bed.

The book, The Script of Corbollion, was a history of Corbollion's reign over Norgodon and how he – mysteriously–went from to becoming an immortal god. The time period was the Norgodon year 10222, the year that the Great Rampage had taken place–a slaughter of the Katar by the Boshkans, an ancient race that had gone extinct in the Norgodon year 19178, all murdered by the vengeful Katar. Justin had taken note many times about how easy commiting murder came to these people, and it gave him another reason not to tell the Katar who he and Pat really were.

The Script also told him why the Katar believed him and Pat to be the gods Corbollion and Oralia: they didn't have any physical form, so they could have been anybody. This explained why the paintings of Corbollion and Oralia looked like everyday Katar, not mystical, powerful figures. He had yet to find out why, out of all the people on Norgodon,–over 7 billion according to Pat–why had they chosen he and Pat? Justin's only guess was because they were outsiders, and Norgodon didn't get very many outsiders Pat had said. But that still seemed like a huge flaw in regular logic, and the Katars, from what Justin had seen so far, were very intelligent, and it seemed wrong that they would think that.

Finally finishing the chapter he was reading, Justin picked himself up off the bed, rubbing his eyes slowly and yawning. Then his eyes fell on the seven remaining book he had yet to skim through, and he moaned ever so slightly.

When Pat had returned from the Katars, she had immediately told him what to read. Most of it was history; of Norgodon, of Corbollion and Oralia, and, smartly, a short history of Norgodon's President Delik Waaserta and the short term he had served before resigning five hours ago upon "Corbollions" return. This was meant to teach Justin a crash-course of sorts on how to run a planet full of intelligent beings.

Pat had then explained to him verbally about the current war between the Katar and another species, the Yervians. The Yervians were distant cousins with the Katar who shared Norgodon with them, and had only recently gone to war with them over ferw, an oil-like substance that they used in a wide variety of medicines. The Katar's were so smart that they apparently were arrogant and ignorant as a result. When the two sides couldn't reach an agreeable treaty for the ferw, the Yervians declared war on the Katar. So far, they were winning, for what the Katar had in intellect they lacked in decisive action and leadership; and Justin guessed that that was where he–or rather, Corbollion–came into the mix, though thankfully not yet.

Not much had happened in the last hour besides him reading for most of it. About twenty minutes had passed since another person had stepped into his room. The man had been a former assistant to the President, and had presented Justin with the five most temptingly beautiful women he had ever seen as a gift to him. There must have been something special about them because it took all of Justin's will to refuse the "gifts."

And so began another hour of the god Corbollion, Justin's alter ego and what he believed to be his enemy.

It started off with the front doors hissing open. Pat walked in again, this time with no Katar behind her, and no fixed expression on her face: it was neutral. In her left hand, though, were–if Justin remembered correctly–forse-s, which was the closest that came to regular paper.

She came to a stop directly in front of him. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. I'm starting to like this guy. He's not one of those cruel gods." He snickered. "I thought I was going to have to act mean or something; like, execute somebody if they looked at me wrong. But this guy wouldn't do that I don't think. He seems pretty nice."

Pat smiled widely and nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I know. I was a little astonished myself." She giggled. "He kind of reminds me of Jesus."

Justin considered this. "Yeah, I...guess. I don't know. It seems hard to think about him that way when we're, you know, on another planet."

Pat shrugged carelessly.

"So what are those?" Justin, nodding pointedly at the papers in her hand. "Do they want autographs now?"

Pat giggled again. "No. It's better than that: your first issues as President of Norgodon."

Instantly, Justin's heart shriveled up in his chest, and he got a huge sinking feeling. Nevertheless, he tried to keep up a cheery mood. "Oh, boy. What's first?"

"Don't worry; their not so bad." She handed the first paper to him. "First is a proposal for a 50,000 terr raise to the Radaar Scholarship Program in the city Ferruterro. It's written by a professor at the local university, something like Salse Hair or something."

"Salsde Hairre," Justin corrected according to the paper.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, he wants more money, and he's been bugging the government about it since before the original President, the guy who just resigned, was elected."

Justin, for the moment assuming that terr meant dollar in English, skimmed over the paper. "Would 50,000 terr be a lot to give to something like that?"

"I don't know," Pat answered. Justin looked up at her quizzically. "What?" she said defensively. "How am I supposed to know?"

Justin instantly was filled with regret. "All right. Sorry. You just know so much more about these people than I do. I still think you should be the one running the planet, and not me." He grinned charmingly. "You're a lot smarter than I am."

"Thanks, but personally, I think men are much better at these types of things than woman."

"Ahhhh, don't say that quite yet," Justin argued. "You'd do a much better job at this than I am. I'm still in shock from the whole thing; the whole...responsibility."

Pat smiled at the remark. "You'll get better as you go."

Justin sighed in protest. "I hope so, and I hope Sam gets here soon. What's takin' her so long?" His eyes returned to the paper, but he was looking at it. He barely saw the words, his mind distracted again, once again getting pulled in by the fear of his sudden new job.

"I'm sure you will," Pat said distantly.

"Thanks," Justin said weakly. Realizing that he probably looked weird right about now, he forced his gaze back up at Pat. "Do you know if it's a good program? Like, how prestigious is it?"

Pat gestured to the paper irritably. "It's in there."

Justin skimmed back through the paper again, and found the answer he was looking for. It made him chuckle. "Five time Corbollion Medal of Honor award. Not bad I guess." He looked up. "Sure why not? Send me the paperwork because I have to fill it out probably, right?"

Pat shook her head. "No, your government's policy council does that. You're a god remember? Also, you can't just say 'sure why not' and be done with it. Do you know why not, 'cause by now you should," she exacted, glancing at the stack of books by the bed.

"Well I don't," Justin said with a pang of despite. "But I hope you do."

Pat moaned. "Okay, it's all based on the honesty—clause. Katars believe that the highest form of complete honesty is verbal honesty. In other words, word by mouth means full telling-of-the-truth."

A few moments passed as Justin took this in. "Okay, and...?"

"And that means you have to tell that professor, Hair or whatever his name is, yourself that you approve his Scholarship Proposal. And that means that after you tell him, you have to approve it, otherwise you will shame Hair and yourself and that–"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Justin said quickly. "If I shame Hairre and me, it might expose us; I get it."

"All right. Good." She paused. "Hair is waiting downstairs right now, so I'll have him sent up. Now I can't be here when you talk to him, so just know that. Okay?"

Justin fixed her with a nervous look. "Why not?"

"You have to tell him yourself. It's a rule in their lawbook. You'll read about it eventually. Remember to lock your hands together like this." She coupled her hands so that one hand was standing upright, fingers folded down and hold the other hand's fingers, which were sideways. "It's their mutual sign of respect."

He easily duplicated the sign with barely any effort.

"And make sure you he returns it to you. It'll make him feel more comfortable around you." She let out a breath. "Okay, here we go. Your first act as President." She placed her hands on his shoulders and shook them again. "Here we go. I'll go send him up." She hugged him. "Good luck."

Hugging her back, Justin was reminded of a memory from when back he was a teenager, during a production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Night Dream. He and Bryan and Kenny had been in it, and there was a different saying that Bryan always insisted on saying.

"No, it's break a leg," Justin told Pat. "'Cause it's bad luck to say 'good luck' before an actor puts on a show," he finished with a smile.

Pat rolled her eyes comically and left their embrace, headed for the doors. "Break a leg then."

"Thanks, see you later."

"Bye." She left the room, and Justin just breathed.

--

The Presidential robes now thrown over him, Justin patiently paced his room a few minutes later as he waited for the Hairre professor, and his career as leader of a planet to begin. It certainly felt like the time before opening curtain in a show, with all the nervous and scary feelings.

The doors hissed apart, and a tall Katar man stepped through into the room, very nervous.

Justin turned to him, standing as tall and "godly" as he could. "Professor Salsde Hairre I presume?" he addressed him. Always wanted to say that. Grinning from ear to ear, Justin walked up to the bewildered Katar and made the sign of respect that Pat had showed him.

But Hairre didn't move. He didn't shake like most of the Katar Justin had already encountered, but the look on his face was the same as all of them–a mix of awe, shock, and fear. So Justin's hands just stayed out there for a while, alone. He grinned. "It's all right Professor Hairre." He wanted to tell him "I'm not anything special," but concluded that that would be a bad idea instantly. He calmly searched for the right thing to say. He got an idea and went with it. "As long as we can stare each other in the eye, Professor, we are equal." That seemed to relieve him, for his shoulders sank slightly and he returned the sign for respect. Justin continued to smile and bowed his head for no reason. Hairre returned the bow.

Suddenly, Justin felt extreme guilt. He didn't know where it came from or why, but swiftly it flooded through his system, and he became ashamed. He still didn't know why. But he had to push it off for now, and pay attention to what he had to do. He only hoped that the guilt hadn't snuck into his expression. "Pro-professor Hairre, I support your–your–" DAMMIT, DAMMIT! He screamed in his mind. "–Pro-proposal–"

Then it hit him. The reason for his sudden stab of guilt.

This was wrong.

Pat was wrong. He had absolutely not right to be doing this, no power to do it! He wasn't Corbollion, he was Justin Berislo! He wasn't a god; he was just a pilot! And now he was trying to tell this nervous, caring, bold man in front of him a lie?! To give this hard-working Katar something he had no power to give him. He was lying to an innocent person. NO!

Justin struggled for what to say next. He couldn't finish the sentence, because then he would be telling Hairre a lie, and shame this decent looking man. His mouth opened and closed several times, and his mind raced–too fast: he didn't have time to think of anything. What if tried to change the topic? Was there anyway he could call Pat? What if Hairre suspected something? What if he figured out the hoax just by looking at Justin? Where was Sam? What else could he say to stall for time?

As if God had been listening, the next moment the comlink in Justin's flight suit buzzed. Only two people knew about that link, Justin and Pat, which meant it had to be Pat calling him. Relief flooding every muscle in his body, Justin swiped beneath the Presidential robes and snatched the comlink out of its pocket, turning it on as soon as humanly possible. "Excuse me," he mumbled to Hairre. "Pat–" he lowered his voice to a sharp whisper so that, hopefully, Hairre didn't hear him. The Katar stood there, slightly confused. "I can't do this. I–I can't–"

"Justin, your not gonna believe this!" she said alertly, having not even heard, or cared probably either, what he had said. "The Danoli just entered the 'hole,' with five A-Wings escorting it and an assault transport, being chased—by a Yervian cruiser and Yervian support fighters! They're heading towards Norgodon!"

Justin's eyes widened in surprise and joy. The Danoli was an Rebel Alliance Corellian gunship that traveled with the Defiance task force!

Sam!

"Justin?" Hairre said behind, with a certain suspicion to his voice.

Justin turned around and looked at him in fear. Thinking quickly, he cupped the com in his hand and thrust the Presidential robes from his body, throwing them into Hairre's arms. "Here. You'll probably do a hell of a lot better than I'll ever do. I hope you get your extra money." With that, Justin bolted for the door and left the room behind forever. "Okay Pat, that's our ride out of here then! Let's go!"

"Justin!" Pat argued. "We just can't leave them–!"

"Fuck this Pat we're getting out of here now!"

"And how do you suppose we do that, huh? We're in an underground, it's not like they can just–beam us up or something!" she sharply whispered.

Justin jumped down some stairs, not knowing where he was going, but praying that he was going the right way. In a cavern, who knew. "Find their outside communication terminal or something! They have to have one somewhere!" he jumped down the final stairwell and, as he had hoped, jumped into what looked like the lobby of the tower. And then he saw Pat standing off to one side of the room, cradling her comlink. She turned around and saw him after hearing his feet stomp on the floor from the last jump. They both began to search furiously for the communication terminal that Justin suggested. He had no clue what anything was though, for he hadn't ever stepped outside his room upstairs.

Pat knew though. She immediately started for the other side of the lobby, dodging past numerous Katar. Arriving at the alleged terminal, she turned it one, having now become somewhat of a amateur at Katar technology and just about everything else that had to do with them. She flipped one switch and turned another dial to a channel, then started talking into the terminal.

Justin was there in no time.

"–oli, this is Lieutenant Pat O'Sheen, do you read me?"

"This is Lieutenant Justin Berislo, Danoli, can you hear us?"

They both started shouting ravenously into the channel, each hoping to be heard.

"This is the Danoli," came the response a few moments later. "We hear you Lieutenants. We're here to rescue you. Where are you now?"

"We're in a cavern underground. I don't know how deep!" Justin answered.

"There's an opening into it!" Pat added. "We can get it open for you. Oh, guys, we are so glad to see you!" she said with relief.

"So are we," the other man said with happiness. "We'll find you, don't worry. Just be sure to open that door."

"Got it!" Justin said. He turned to nearest Katar, who immediately stepped back in fear. "Open the cavern door to the city!" he shouted, some device translating it into Katar language. "Now!" he ordered.

The Katar bowed his head, and then pointed a nervous finger at the communications terminal.

Justin got the message immediately. "We're opening the door now," Justin over the com. "Berislo out." He pushed Pat away from the terminal then back away himself. "Do it!" he ordered the Katar. The alien ran over to the terminal and performed the duty quickly and flawlessly. As soon as he was finished, he backed away from Justin and Pat and bowed again.

"It's done!" he reported.

Justin grinned out of joy and walked up to the Katar and shook his shoulders proudly. "You'll definitely be rewarded for your hard work in the Afterlife, my friend." And you don't need me to be telling you that, he almost added.

The Katar beamed brightly. "Thank you, Ruler Corbollion!"

Justin almost answered him, but realized that if he did so, he would be acting as Corbollion again. In fact, he already had. The guilt started flooding into him again.

Pat tugged at his arm. "This way!" she said, pointing towards two glass doors that lead outside. She started for them. Justin hesitated a moment, and turned back to all the Katar in the room, thinking of what he could say in farewell.

"I'm sorry. I never meant for this happen like this, I...you guys have been great. Ummm...live long and prosper," he said lastly, and bolted for the doors, trying to catch up with Pat outside.

Minutes later, the assault transport Challenger dropped into the cavern from above and picked them up only a few minutes later. The Yervians were easily driven off by the Danoli and it's escorts, and soon enough, Justin was watching the mysterious nebula get farther away from Challenger's window, and then watching as the Calamari Cruiser Defiance slowly came into view on the other window. He was talking to his beloved Sam a few moments later.

Nevertheless, the damage had been done. He had just left the robes there, the responsibilities, the god. Now the Katar had another empty hole as their leader; now, when they needed one the most during their war with the Yervians. Many more would die and more suffering would ensue in the wake of Justin's abrupt escape. Though he was relieved to be free of Corbollion, he knew he would never forget what he had done. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.