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to find them. Commerce and travel by road were nearly nonexistent and the roads were clear of traffic. It would only be a matter of time.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    To say that business was bad was laughable.
    Sitting behind the bar of the Imperial Inn, Sheyra leaned heavily on her elbow and stared up at the blank screen on the wall. For a while she thought about turning it on just to fill the silence. Watching news of how prosperous and wonderful it was to live under the rule Ka Harn Kei'Oren didn't sound appealing at the moment. Her empty little tavern was enough proof of the rampant prosperity and she didn't need to be reminded.
    The inn had been left to her by her father who had, like many others, died in the Senna Plague. The old, the young, and those who were already sick hadn't stood a chance against the pandemic. It hadn't really surprised her when the cure and the vaccine had come too late. Ro'Tesche-En had been hit hard. Once the illness had finally been stopped over half the town was gone. Those left alive had fled in the wake of the tragedy.
    Sheyra was the last remaining citizen.
    With black hair and dark copper colored skin that was indicative of the Ekar people, she had been told she was pretty numerous times, but Sheyra didn't really care for flattery. Standing as tall as an Enforcer but slender, she often considered herself too skinny although she had a hardy appetite. She was also strong and carried herself with confidence. Her father raised her to be proud and intelligent, paying a lot of credits to obtain the licensing needed to educate her in reading and the mathematics to run the inn. Unfortunately, he didn't foresee the decline of the Empire.
    It was late morning and there wasn't hope of a customer for lunch. She thought about cooking something for herself but had little motivation. Having held on for five years to the tavern out of respect for her father it was hard for her to admit that maybe it was time to move on. No one would buy it from her. What credits her father had left in his inheritance were dwindling away to nothing. She could stay and starve, she knew, but that didn't sound appealing.
    Contemplating the gravity of the situation she began to hear a low rumble outside. Sheyra held her breath, listening closely. Was that a vehicle engine? As curious as every other young woman from a small town, Sheyra rushed to the front window and peered out. She crouched down to try to hide from whoever might be out there. Rolling slowly up the street was a motorcycle carrying two passengers. The hair on the back of her neck pricked up and her stomach knotted.
    Trouble was coming.
    A young man was driving. Sheyra could see that he was well built and well fed, which made her wonder where they were coming from. She could tell by his face that he was a charmer, even if his eyes were a little cold. Besides that, he was blond, which was extremely unusual, clearly born by foreign blood.
    The young woman seated behind him had her head against his shoulder. She was also blond, which caused Sheyra's eyebrows to lift in surprise. Oddly enough, it appeared at first glance that she was asleep. The girl snuggled against him as if they were familiar lovers. Sheyra watched in anticipation as the motorcycle came to a stop just outside her door.
    The man stepped off and the woman sat up blearily. Maybe she hadn't been asleep but something was wrong with her. She swayed in the seat. He reached out to help her but she knocked his hand away.
    “I can do it,” Sheyra heard her say, her words slightly slurred.
    “Fine, I don't care.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest to watch as the woman pushed herself slowly over the seat.
    Her right foot barely hit the sidewalk and she was falling. The man reached out and caught her, struggling to get her to stand. Leaning heavily on him she gave up. Was she drunk? Sheyra shook her head in disbelief. The man then retrieved a long White Energy gun from the bike. Trouble. She knew