I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.

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The Search Begins

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"Will you be announcing your run for the position this evening?" a reporter asks while holding one of those recording crystals in my face.

I push the crystal away. "I'm not entering the race at all," I say for the twentieth time since last evening.

"Everyone expects you to, though," the man persists. "You're the Human most involved with the Mipedian community, you have been ever since the very first day in Perim! Four months ago you were singled out by King Theb-sarr himself to sit at the royal table!"

"That's a lot like sending Harrison Ford into space because he was so awesome playing as Han Solo in Star Wars," I reply, "Or recruiting Shia LeBeouf to fight an attacking robot army because he played as Sam Witwicky in Transformers."

The man hesitates. "Well, the difference here is that you're famous for actually doing the things the job would entail, rather than simply acting things out."

I admit, my analogy wasn't perfect. "I'm still not running. I don't think I'm the best guy for the job."

"What would convince you to run?" the man asks.

I roll my eyes. "I'll announce my candidacy only if I'm a better fit for the position than everyone else running."

That seems to satisfy the reporter, and he disappears into the crowd.

It's the afternoon of what is technically the second day of the search, and so many people have put forward and then withdrawn their candidacy that there's no way for the Mipedim Mailer or any other newspaper to keep up to date. I've been interviewed several times, and my answer has been pretty much the same each time, minus the last time. That last sentence was new, but then it was answering a new question.

Something taps my shoulder. Ugh, another person. "I've already told you guys-"

"Calm down, it's me," Shasta says. "I've got your drink."

"Thanks," I say. "Sorry about that."

"No need to apologize," Shasta says as he looks out at the crowd. "You're good for business. Everyone's working up quite a thirst with all the interviews."

"I'm glad my presence is turning out such a profit for you," I drone.

Shasta stares at me. "You know, you can leave if you're going to be sarcastic."

I give myself a mental slap in the face. "Sorry, I'm just tired of everyone expecting me to make a grab for the spot King Theb-sarr has put in the royal family. Do you think 'Prince Michael' would be a good ruler?"

"Your name wouldn't actually be 'Prince Michael,'" Shasta notes. "His Majesty would likely give you a royal name-"

I have to resist the urge to hit the counter with my head. "Just answer the question, Shasta."

Shasta closes his mouth for a while. "...You'd make a good figurehead."

"What?" I ask. "And I know what a figurehead is, I mean what do you mean?"

Shasta leans on the counter. "You'd make a good symbol for Humans. You're easy to recognize, you have a history with the royal family already, and if necessary you can make difficult decisions."

"I can't make those kinds of decisions every single day," I mutter.

"Don't you already at the dew farm?" Shasta shrugs. "It's not like you'd be in charge of dealing with every single difficulty Humans have, just the ones that our King feel you should handle. Really, your primary job would be to sit on a nice chair and look pretty."

I hit the counter with my head. "You did not just say what I think you said."

"I did," Shasta says. "Your drink is going to get warm if you don't drink it."

"I think I'll let it ferment for a bit," I groan.

"That will take a while," Shasta notes. "I can just get you a harder drink."

"I was joking," I mutter while grabbing my glass. "I don't think I'll touch alcohol again. Every single time I've touched the stuff all of Perim flipped on its head."

Shasta fails at holding back a chuckle. "Michael, the world doesn't decide to go crazy just because you decide to have a drink."

I would agree, but considering the circumstances...

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"Michael, you have to come to the courtyard."

Sett's voice wakes me up. "What?" I mutter as I pull my blanket over my head. "Sett, it's the middle of the night..."

"You need to come to the conference!" Sett insists.

I flip the blanket down and send one of Sett's one-eyed stares back at him. "So it's still going on? Good for them..."

"Michael, I think it's absolutely essential that you get yourself to the conference right now," Sett growls. "One of the candidates claims he knows you personally from back on Earth."

I pull the blanket back over my head. "Good for him. I can worry about that in the morning when the reporters arrive..." Then I flip the blanket down down. "Can you get out of my house so I can sleep?" I swear I'm going to get a door with a lock installed first thing in the morning.

Sett grabs my arm and hoists me to my feet. "You are coming with me to the conference."

"Fine!" I growl grumpily. "Just let me get dressed..."

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"You see him?" Sett asks.

There's a man standing on some kind of box in the courtyard. There's a huge crowd of people around him, but I can still see what he looks like. He's wearing a thick coat, like everyone else, to protect him from the night air, but his face is completely visible. I push through the crowd to get a better look.

He has somewhat long straight hair, somewhat bleached by the sun, but I can see it used to be brown. His face is clean-shaven, and there's a white scar on his chin. He speaks, and his voice sounds just a bit deeper than mine.

"Do you really know him?" Sett asks me.

"Yeah," I mutter. "We went to high school together."

"High school," Sett says in a puzzled voice.

I don't answer, instead pushing my way through the crowd. I'm going to be close enough for the man to see me in ten seconds... Five seconds... Any moment now...

"Well! Hi there, Michael!" the man says with a wide grin. "I didn't think you were coming!"

"Hello Frank," I say as I push my way to the front of the crowd. "So, you're running for the royal spot?"

Frank grins wider. "As always, you do an incredible job at stating the obvious."

I look around. "I don't see anyone else."

"Well, people can very plainly see that I'm the best for the job," Frank says with a shrug. "I don't take s*** from anyone, and I can do a lot of good for Humans when I'm in position."

"Really," I mutter. "Did you tell everyone you were my friend in high school?"

Frank opens his mouth, but his voice seems to catch in his throat. He glances at the now-murmuring crowd.

There's no way I'm letting Frank succeed. Many long years of experience with him back on Earth won't let me.

I turn to the crowd. "I'm announcing my candidacy."

Frank let's the air out of his lungs in a weak laugh. "They've already chosen me," he exclaims.

"We were given five days to decide," I respond., turning back to Frank. "I suggest we use that time to find the right person."

"All right, then," Frank says. He turns to the crowd. "Tell me! Do you want a leader who wants to stay in Perim?"

There are some uncommitted mutters in the crowd. I turn to Frank. "You promised to find a way to send people back to Earth?"

"I did," Frank says. "Why aren't you?"

"Because I know there isn't a way back," I reply.

Frank steps off the box and stands beside me. "Pessimism like that is why you're going to stay on the bottom, just like back on Earth," he whispers. "Don't think that your fame is more powerful than my promises."

"I wasn't planning on relying on my fame," I whisper back. "I know how good you are at getting people on your side. How else did you avoid getting thrown out of school until senior year?"

Frank's jaw clenches. "I wasn't thrown out, I transferred."

"Keep telling yourself that," I whisper. "I wonder how long it'll take before you start bullying and buying your way to the top again."

Frank talks out loud, "It's late, and you all look tired! We'll continue this later!" He glances at me. "Right?"

"Right," I agree.

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Up next: The Years in the Past

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Like I said before, Chaotic belongs to TCDigital.

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