Codename: Ghost

Party Favors (4)

Lights dimmed. The drumroll began. A spotlight pierced the gloom, shining down upon a hulking man in a black tuxedo walking out atop the royal staircase. He immediately stepped aside, after which entered the world's longest tenured fascist: Raul Phillipe Artuga. Our host proudly descended. Each bootstep rang out loudly. Although an older man now, Artuga cut a remarkably virile figure. His silver hair was still thick. His curled mustache was still black. His powerful chest still filled out an immaculate uniform that bordered perilously close to military design. My only source of disappointment was his eyes. They were notoriously dead, but hidden tonight under black sunglasses.

His audience waited. Eventually, Artuga reached the high table. But he strode past his seat, taking the front podium. Much closer than his royal balcony, it was a more intimate position. He cleared his throat. Silence. Then his speech began. "Distinguished guests. Honored countrymen. Loyal soldiers. My friends, all. This is the dawn of a wondrous era for the New Republic of Gorteau. We have come so far since our great revolution. Every breath drawn has proven our enemies wrong. There was no other choice. All of us became brothers and sisters instead of just sovereign citizens. We are all linked together. My success is yours, and yours is mine. Our unity is the envy of the world!" Other servers were still working. I joined them. "There is much to be celebrated tonight, though not all is sweet. We must also renew again our commitment to vigilance. Just as I am your strong right arm, so are you all my sharp eyes. While our armies look outwards for enemies, the citizens must look within. There is cause. Oh, it breaks my heart to say it, but there is cause. All rot is not yet cleansed from our great state. The fair hides the foul. Traitors sow dissension among us. Indeed, they do so even in this very room!" My bottle was already half empty. Another foreign envoy held out their wine glass, eyes fixed onstage. I poured. "But do not fear, my loyal ones. Danger breeds opportunity. Our mines are rich, our fields fertile, and our coffers overflow for many things. Information of course, but also military and industrial contracts. We are rising! Across the world stage, yes. And someday across the void of space. I spoke of friends and enemies, did I not? The Mediators are but an uncertain ally. For us to seize control of our fate as a species we must first begin with lesser steps!" The wine was almost gone. I turned, heading towards my last patrons. "My plans for the future are grand. Yes, they are ambition itself! In the next few months you will be shown the outline. The years ahead will show more. But honesty. Truth. I must admit it, though. Healthy as I am, this great plan of which I speak may not be complete before my heir's future coronation." Loud boos erupted, some calling out for new rejuvenation procedures. With my wine bottle bone dry I gently pushed out through the press into a sidehall. His echoing words followed me. "My heart is touched. But I say no, my friends. No no no. Death is one enemy I have not yet conquered. We all must die. Even the children. But fear not! My good daughter will make a fine mother to the people of Gorteau on that day. She has both love to heal and strength to punish. But this is still the far future. Yes, I am getting ahead of myself." Once inside his empty main wine cellar, I picked a lock and removed one particularly fine bottle of wine before immediately heading back out again. "We cannot rest, even when weary. Not myself, my countrymen or my allies. My strength is yours, and yours is mine. YES! Together we WILL prevail, and TOGETHER I must have you! Gifts await you all. Honest gifts as a sign of my good faith. Trust them, for they are only my thanks for your open ears during our private meetings tomorrow. Pleasure. Pain. Power. We are on the brink. Change is coming. Great change. From it, the fate of southeast Pangaea will be decided. And someday more. Ha! But enough of policy. Tonight is not about that. Tonight is about celebration. Tonight is about good luck. I will keep this speech short, just like the life of our martyrs. And as we like to say in Gorteau: dwell in my house, share of my table, and become as my blood. C'la mientrada. You are my chosen ones!!!" Thunderous applause erupted. I returned back out into the main dining stadium, positioning myself by a refill station halfway across to the high table dais. The dictator finally finished waving to them all from his podium there, heading back to take his seat at the table's head. A moment later the sumptuous first course was finally brought out. The orchestra resumed its classical play.

Steady nerves. It was time for me to begin this mission's true endgame.