From "Running" by Patrice Fitzgerald

Catherine Young, current vice president and Democratic nominee for president, is hanging out at home in a rare moment of relaxation when she stumbles on a sound bite from her GOP opponent’s campaign stump speech:

Catherine flopped down on the worn leather couch in a very unpresidential way, flinging her sensible navy pumps into the air one by one.  She lifted her hips off the cushion to shimmy out of her pantyhose, wondering if the new code of bare legs was ever going to make it all the way up the food chain to the executive branch. 

Wiggling her toes, she gave a sigh and punched the remote.  The large blonde hair of Jerusha Hutchins filled the TV screen and her perky voice filled the room. 

“It’s more of the same, isn’t it?  We’ve had the Democrat Party…yes…four years now.  Where are we?  I ask y’all.  Taxing and spending, the usual.  Folks barely making it.  Me and my family…the ten of us…beautiful children… so many…and we are proud!  Being fruitful and multiplying.  Celebrating the culture of life.  The country – y’all know it – going in the wrong direction!”  The crowd cheered, and Jerusha nodded vigorously, her arms spread. 

“Going away from what our forefathers – the God-fearing founders of this nation – fought for.  The American people – the good people, the Americans from way back – have had enough.  We have the memento…the momento… it’s our moment now!  And we’re takin’ the country back!  Am I right, y’all?”

From "The Empire" by Elizabeth Lang

A scientist, Adrian Stannis, is trapped between a rock and a harder place...

Kegan paced, circling Adrian, treating him like a caged animal. "Some people wanted to have you executed. Did they tell you?"

So the Sedener had been an illusion, thought Adrian. No one believed he was just a failed researcher, an embarrassment who needed to be put out of the way. In reality, they had given him a long leash and reeled him in when they found him useful again.

Kegan sneered, smelling success. "How does it feel to know the truth?"

"Do you think death scares me?" The answer was cold, a man with a foot in an icy tomb.

An archly cynical female voice said from behind him, "Adrian isn’t afraid of death."

Adrian’s back stiffened as the woman’s voice chilled the room, and there was another stab of pain in his head.

"He’s only afraid of life. Isn’t that right?"

Without turning to look at her, Adrian already imagined the steely black pupils and jet-black hair in his mind’s memory. There was no reaction in his voice, only a passive acknowledgement of her arrival.

"Professor Boudreaux."