POST MORTEM

By CindyR

She laid back languidly on the bed, enjoying the warm hands which caressed her. The boy had learned quickly how to please her best; his hands traced delicious patterns on her body, and for a while she gave herself up to the heat of desire.

Much later, sated, she stretched, wriggling her toes under the blanket. Hmm. The boy got better and better. She smiled that tight little feline smile as she reviewed her earlier assessment of him. He certainly knew how to 'respect' his superior officers, that was for sure. Yes, Patar just might go far in the military-her military, for such it was, once again.

She laughed quietly to herself. I just may bring you with me, Patar, after I regain control of this pathetic little government. Until you no longer amuse me, that is. She reached across the bed, intent on the glass of wine sitting on the nightstand, when her eyes fell on the little piece of paper which had started last night's celebration. Idly, she picked up the single sheet, scanning its already memorized contents eagerly.

"Commissioner Sleer: ... .from Albrec Marcal, President of ... appoint you Supreme Commander of ... effective immediately .... welcome to…."

Another surge of triumph filled her. Supreme Commander. She tasted the words, savoring their sweetness. Supreme Commander. It had taken her almost two years to realign her power base among the civilian government. Her enemies be reduced to atoms, at least her contacts in the military were still usable!

She smiled again. Supreme Commander-and it's all thanks to you, my dear Roj Blake. By destroying you, I crushed the rebellion at its roots. There's no real threat to the Federation left anywhere in the galaxy, Blake, and it's all because of you.

She reached again for the wine, the ruby liquid staining her lips the color of blood. It was a good fight, Blake, she raised the glass in salute, but you lost and I'm on my way back to everything I've ever wanted.

Her thoughts drifted a bit, then returned, with the rustling noise from the other side of the bed-Mark shifting slightly in his sleep. For a moment another face superimposed itself over the boy's--black eyes instead of blue-smooth, dark hair replacing the boy's blond curls.

"Avon, ~ she whispered, eyes widening in shock. "Are you to be my ghost, then? I did offer to share my power with you, you fool, and you dared to turn me down." Anger twisted the full lips into a grimace. "Blast you, Avon, it could have been you laying here beside me instead of this ridiculous child."

"Do you really think so?"

The voice-a trick of the mind?-swept her back-back to a time now a week past

***

The sirens' blare had been replaced by an almost preternatural silence as she had stepped into a room still awash with red. Red lights, red blood-a sea of red filled her vision, broken by a single black shadow at its heart.

The shadow moved slightly, lifting its head to stare at her with eyes black and empty … Dead eyes, she thought, with a shiver.. Eyes of the walking dead.

Her perceptions seemed heightened somehow, the clarity of every sensation almost painfully acute. Time slowed-stopped for all but herself and the shadow-man- Reality itself flowed forward, backward, finally dissolving altogether, leaving her only with that dreamlike quality felt in sleep.

In slow motion, she approached the shadow, forcing herself to meet the dead eyes-reluctantly, eagerly, hungrily- Fear and victory warred within her members-desire and hatred fought, and still she approached-

The dead eyes studied her as she did them- The fire ignited, as it always did when their souls touched- Flash-burn- devour The lightning and the universal cold.

The shadow smiled his horrible death's-head smile, and she smiled back- Victory was sweet-as sweet as she had always known it would be- Again she approached, stepping daintily over the outstretched hand of the corpse on the floor. She reached out slender arms, caressing gently the angular face, stroking the thick hair, feeling desire rise within her, as it always did when this man was near.

A soft shudder broke the incredible tension in the man' s body-response and repulsion played cruel games on a mind already lost. The shadow reached for her and she remembered the surprise she had felt when his arms did not pass through her, but rather grasped her, warm and strong, pulling her roughly against a body that had haunted her dreams for over two years. They studied each other across the inches-light years?- that separated them; no words spoken, none needed- Words had long become unnecessary between these two-superfluous noise in the vacuum of their reality-

In silence was the offer made, renewed, rejected. Surreality interposed again as the shadow bent to touch soft lips again her own; dreamlike his hand sought the soft whiteness of her throat. And even eternity wavered and broke away when the little silver knife slipped between his ribs, stilling the already dead heart instantly-

The red faded-lights, blood, haze..... She was back, safe here on her base, "celebrating" the death of her desire. The black eyes dissolved, leaving her staring at fair, youthful features and curly blond hair, with a sense of loss and rage. She kicked out furiously, catching the boy hard on the thighs A splash of blood-colored wine trailed along the backs of her fingers. "Get out!" she snarled into his sleep-drugged face. "Get out. I'm sick of looking at you!"

Confused and frightened, the boy fled, grabbing his clothes as he left.

Savage amber eyes followed his mad scramble to escape the room, remaining locked In that direction long after the door whispered shut ... "May you burn, Avon," she screamed Into the empty room. "I could have loved you. Why did you make me kill you?"

A lifetime of emotional control snapped back Into place. With a fatalistic sigh, she sipped the wine again, her hand steady. I wanted you, Avon. You were such a challenge to me. None of these fools are even half so Interesting. You excited me the way no other man ever has-ruthless, devious, brilliant-my equal in every way. Almost. The perfect consort for the next President of the Terran Federation.

Pragmatism reasserted itself with a shrug of slender shoulders. Oh well, there's always Patar-for now. And ghosts are easily exorcised when you have enough power. She kissed the tips of her fingers lightly. "Goodbye, Avon," she said. "Wherever your spirit wanders, think of me now and again.

And then Supreme Commander Sleer snuggled down into her luxuriantly cushioned nest and dreamed sweet dreams of victory and power.

FINIS