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The unhappy ending to this story belongs me, SE-mp3d serial number 6, otherwise known as Imp.





It happened while Lance and Serina were enjoying a sightseeing trip through Sol's solar system in the massively modified Rolls Royce Silver Cloud cum space cruiser (think 'Transformers'—if you are a fan of the classics,) that had belonged to Lance's grandfather. The Silver Cloud had been handed down through the centuries and was Lance's as a wedding present from his mother. They were in orbit around Saturn enjoying the beauty of the rings. I had maintained the mental union, which they so appreciated, even though it took a considerable share of my capacity to maintain such a full channel.





An even more significant chunk of me was assigned to conversing with them. Mostly we talked about the future and what Lance and Serina could do to make the universe a better place to live, about their love and the lives that would be brought into existence because of that love.





Without warning, while we were so pleasantly engaged, seventy-two huge missiles surrounded the Rolls, and the Duke's voice resonated from the very walls of the car. "I am not finished! You and that freak they call an Emperor are finished!" Fireballs blossomed at the same instant of time as each of those missiles released the full energy of the total disintegration of matter not from a distance of kilometers but from a range of meters.





Almost before I could sense the explosions occurring around my two charges the sensation was cut off, not in the suddenness of dissolution but as though they, in a picosecond, had traveled an immense distance and had somehow gone out of range.





This sensation would not have bothered me, but I had just finished the research on their family genealogy. In Lance's family tree, the one who had created the family fortune was Lawrence, and his wife's name was Jane. —You don't suppose? @@
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