One Good Soldier

process. Elle had, for a brief instant, considered killing her daughter, or at least wounding her, but she couldn't do it. That was when the unthinkable happened. Then Sehera, Elle Ahmi's only child, chose Moore over her.

Elle had been so brokenhearted that she let them go without a fight. And Moore seemed, at that moment, content to leave with Sehera and his life. After all, he had killed over ninety of her men and women in his surprise rampage. Elle always wondered if Moore had thought that by taking her daughter from her, he was torturing her or paying her back. It didn't matter. Sehera was still alive and, as far as she could tell, was happy with Moore.

Ever since that day, Elle had been accounting and allowing for the two of them in her plans, for decades. Oftentimes, that damned Moore would do some random act of heroism that couldn't be accounted for that would ruin years of scheming, arranging of events, and planning, not to mention major resources. But she still couldn't bring herself to take them out of the picture. She just couldn't bring herself to ruin Sehera's happiness. Sehera was indeed the final love of her life. In fact, she even prodded and directed their paths every now and then without them knowing it. Elle had learned long ago how to manipulate a popular vote and was instrumental in Moore winning his first race as a Mississippi senator. Moore had no idea—or at least Elle had no reason to think he did. Neither did Sehera, for that matter.

And she didn't really regret not having killed them. They somehow seemed to keep her connected to her own humanity. Scotty had often told her that she had become so logical and calculating that he wasn't certain she had any emotion left in her soul. Maybe the Moore family was the only spark she had left of that. One day, she also hoped to see her granddaughter. So far, Moore and Sehera hadn't allowed that. But Elle had a plan for that, too. If all went according to plan, she'd meet her granddaughter in a matter of hours.

And there was always the plan. The Separatist plan that she had been developing, tweaking, forcing, and maintaining for decades, and no matter how many simulations she and her AIC Copernicus ran, it always ended the same way. That Mexican standoff between her and the Moores had to be played out to the finish.

Maybe you should get some sleep, ma'am, Copernicus said into her mind, snapping her out of her racing memories and thoughts.

Perhaps I will, Elle thought as she sighed again, sliding her feet to the floor softly so as not to disturb the quiet of the room and the tranquil view of the rings of the rising gas giant. Call her emotionless or even evil, but Elle still enjoyed the absolute beauty and wonder of the universe. Then she, Elle Ahmi, the most notorious and murderous terrorist known to the Sol System, the leader of the Separatist movement, the once great United States Army General Sienna Madira, the one hundred eleventh president of the United States of America Sienna Madira, felt the weight of her years on her shoulders pressing her like Atlas must have felt. But Atlas had only held up the Earth. Elle was trying to hold up the Tau Ceti star system, trying to coerce the Ross 128 system into jumping on, and planning to overthrow the Sol System. At that point, the other human colonies should follow suit. No, Elle wished she only had Atlas's problems.

Turn out the lights and bring the transparency of the windows down to about fifty percent, she ordered Copernicus. Her loyal AIC complied instantly, forcing Elle to blink a few times and stand still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She dropped her clothes on the floor at the foot of her bed and dragged herself under the sheets. She allowed herself a few moments to view the panorama from her office, her home, of the domain of the Separatists. Not a very full home, she thought. But great plans require great sacrifice.

What's that, ma'am?

Just mumbling, Copernicus. Good night.

Good night, ma'am.

Her mind still raced a bit, so she focused on the view through the windows. The arched windows of the penthouse stretched four meters tall and three meters wide, with only a few centimeters of semitransparent metal structure between them. The giant windows sat side by side, completely around the office. The lack of opaque materials in the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view would frighten sufferers of agoraphobia beyond their wits. Those afraid of heights wouldn't do much better, either. The penthouse sat atop the capitol