Somehow we have even more lines ... tireless, we are. Personally I found these lines extremely difficult, but you don't want to hear me whine. You just want to read what we wrote and maybe get a laugh out of the incompetence.
For mine, I was trying to bring in an earlier story, so you should read that first. They only barely overlap in universes but it helps put this in context.
For mine, I was trying to bring in an earlier story, so you should read that first. They only barely overlap in universes but it helps put this in context.
Tom began sleepwalking again. He always did that the night before his big speeches. It was the only way he showed his true anxiety. The public saw only the fearless president. They had grown to expect much from the graying man who spoke with an easy confidence, the man who never paced in the Oval Office. Even now, as the rebels were descending upon a stunned planet, only his husband, John, saw him rising from their bed and begin pacing up and down the bedroom. John knew better than to wake him; it only made him jittery and unfocussed the next day. In light of this international crisis, Tom needed all the composure he could get.
Just three hours ago, the world had been balanced. Way up in space, the planetsiders were defending well against the rebels and apart from a few casualties in space, there was relative peace. That all changed a few minutes after 2100 hours when a traitor starfighter had destroyed the main defense station. She had died, but that wasn't going to stop the rebels from having open access to the Earth's surface. Tom was meeting with them tomorrow. John shook his head sadly as he watched the President wearing away at the carpets, oblivious in his sleep.
* * *
Tom spoke on the evening news. He was seated beside the rebel leader:
a surprisingly young man who looked quite dashing in a pinstriped sports coat. They had spent the day through the details of the power transition. The rebels, for all their guerilla fighting techniques were very peaceable. There was going to be no more fighting, fifteen years of that had been enough for both sides. Tom even managed to convince the greenhorn of the necessity of keeping the existing, however inefficient, system of government on planetside. Now, in front of billions of viewers, Tom lowered his pen to sign the final turnover document. He didn't flinch, exuding the calm elegance he had cultivated over his thirty-year political career.
The young man for whom a life in politics was just beginning didn't have it so easy. It hadn't taken an hour for him to realize the enormity of the role he was being thrust into. During his speech, he'd faltered and tripped over his words, running over the periods and inserting pauses mid-phrase. He shouldn't be the nervous one; heck, he was the victor. His was the side that history favored. But as his pen headed for the blank space under Tom's signature, it shook uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
A firm steady hand gripped his own and with the slow strength guided the pen to paper. It was Tom. Gently, but loud enough so he could be heard on camera, he said encouragingly, "We all panic; you should have seen me pacing last night."
John looked up, startled, at his husband. But then, he understood. The transition would have happened regardless. The world needed faith in its new leader. This public gesture; it allowed him to avoid a paradox.