A Message From The Moon

Head down, he paced back and forth behind the monolithic granite desk. Occasionally, he paused to look up at the man sitting in the chair. His gaze would eventually drift back to the ground and his pacing would recommence with a shake of the head and an almost inaudible tutting.

The man in the chair looked over his shoulder, only to be met by the steely glare of two armed guards. The door was bolted shut by two thick chrome bars, requiring two people to operate. He returned his attention to the man behind the desk. He shifted in his chair, it was uncomfortable, just a steel grid with legs. The concrete beneath him felt cold on his bare feet and travelled up through his heels, chilling his blood.

The pacing man finally stopped and placed his palms on the desk. He drummed his fingers against the black rock. The man in the chair felt each tap as though the desk was his very bones. He felt the sweat roll between his shoulder blades and along the curve of his ribs. A dossier had been opened, its contents strewn across the tomb like desk. He craned his neck, attempting to read it.

"You weren't born here," the man said, in a tone that muddied question and statement. "You..." he trailed off into silence and brushed the thick grey hair from his eyes as he continued to read. "Nor was I," he spoke again, after a moments silence. "Being and Earthling is no crime, on the contrary, we encourage a diverse population. All are welcome here."

His voice was both soft and gruff. It was the voice of a grand orator, who was tired after a lifetime of impassioned speeches and arguments. His was the voice that many chose to follow and cast Earth in their shadows.

"I don't know what it is that you-" the man in the chair began to protest, only to be cut off by a waving hand.

"That's quite enough of that," he paused to scan the document for a name, "Cassius. As you can plainly see, I do not have years left to fritter away like yourself. I have no time for your hollow defence and empty pleading."

"Grand Lunas, I beg you," Cassius mumbled meekly.

"There is simply no time," he said absently. "We got to where we are without spilling a single drop of blood. Do you know how incredible that is? No, none of you do, you're determined to goad me. Your only wish is to see us fail. We've build a solid foundation, a foundation that will not be rattled by the likes of you. How many more insurgents will the Earthling government send us? You are not the first, Cassius, and you will surely not be the last. Your brothers rot in Darkside cells, but the timing of your discovery is unfortunate. I'm afraid my patience has run dry and we must send a message."

He stood, hammered his fist on the desk and signalled the guards. They brought out the Lunar flag and wrapped it tightly around Cassius' body, knotting it at the back. They then gagged him, silencing the screams.

"In the old times, pirates used to make mutineers walk the plank," Lunas announced, stoking the fear in Cassius' eyes. He crossed to the window and looked out the moons still and cratered surface, "I'm told it's a lot like drowning out there."