Old Haunts; Book 1 (PG-13)

[Auna]

First posted at Kansas:  September 25, 2003.


Title: Old Haunts, Book One

Author: Auna

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Setting: Aproximately 23 cycles after Bad Timing

Disclaimer: The Farscape universe is not mine.  We all know this, and aren't you all grateful?

Summary: Well, where do I begin?  This (as you can tell from the title) is going to be a very long one.  It is also the last one in the Brennik/Aeric universe.  To try to summarize where we are now would be a very lengthy job, so I'm going to give you all the links to the previous stories, (in the order they should be read) and warn you that if you are not familiar with this series, this story will probably not interest you in the slightest.  But give it a chance.  I promise that every question you've ever asked me about these characters will eventually be answered.

Credits: I owe scrubschick, shipsister, ScaperRed and Sanchez many, many thanks.  Thank you for an awsome beta job, thank you for the pep talks that keep me writing, thank you for the ideas that spark my imagination.  There are two scenes that are really Sanchez's.  You guys are the best.


CHAPTER ONE

He walked into the tavern, scanning the crowd with disguised earnest.  He desperately needed to find the brothers; they were his only hope.  Their reputation preceded them in several systems; they would fly the missions others would not, carry the cargo everyone else was unwilling... for the right price of course.  He had been told they were currently out of commission, he was warned to leave them alone, but he was desperate.  He needed their help.

There they were.  He'd paid heavily to learn their location, and it was worth the price.  Backs to the walls, they sat in the far left corner, silently sipping their drinks with apparent ease.

He walked to the bar and ordered a drink, keeping his eyes on the two men, studying them, searching for a clue of how to approach them and walk away with every appendage still attached the way it had been when he'd walked in.  They looked harmless enough.

The one with the long blonde hair pulled into a braid had a perpetual smile on his face, seemingly naturally etched into his expression.  The smile was warm and inviting, his blue eyes sparkling with a love of life, even as he sat incongruously staring at a small bug crawling across their table.

The other one, the darker brother, looked more like his reputation.  Everything was dark about him; his eyes, his short choppy hair, the frown his mouth rested in.  A scar ran from his eye, down his cheek to his ear, adding an aura of mystery.  His eyes rested on the amber liquid swirling in the glass he was absently twirling in calloused hands.

Both brothers were dressed in tight, black, leather pants, which were tucked into black, knee length boots.  Both had large shoulders, absent of any excess fat.  The blond wore a red t-shirt, the darker one, grey.  Matching pulse pistols hugged their thighs.

The blonde's lips moved slightly and the expression of the darker one softened for a microt, transforming his face into a mirrored version of his brother.  The lapse was momentary, nearly indistinguishable, but it had made him seem approachable.  The standard scowl returned, and the young man wondered what could cause such a transformation.

Throwing back a swallow to fortify himself, he slammed the empty glass onto the counter and worked his way to the men.  He'd never forgive himself if he backed out now.

--------------------------------------------

Tean sat next to his brother, silently drinking his amber juice.  Neither of them was indulging in alcohol for this particular meeting; they couldn't afford to be fuzzy.  He took a moment to regret his decision.  A  Fellip Nectar would go a long way right now, but it had been difficult enough to keep Sethya dry lately, and meeting in this tavern was bad enough without the extra temptation of having it sitting on the table next to him.

He wished for the millionth tine that they could find Moya so he could reunite his brother with Brennik.  Whoever would have thought his brother would become a drunk over one simple girl?

They'd been searching for over a monen to no avail now.  Evidently, if Moya wanted to hide, no one would find her.  There had to be a trail somewhere, and he wasn't giving up hope.  Much to his chagrin, he missed the whole eclectic crew, nearly as much as Seth did.

This meeting wasn't about Moya, though, or her inhabitants, and he was frustrated at the necessary delay.  However, if there was one thing they'd learned during their two and a half cycles on the run, it was that they should never pass up the chance for Intel on the enemy.

His brother started twirling his glass of juice.  Tean, noting the signal, scanned the crowd looking for the uninvited guest.  It only took a microt for him to locate the young hybrid sitting at the bar, doing a very bad job at hiding his attempts to watch them.  Great, another young idiot out to make a name for himself.  These kids never learned.

He used the bug crawling across their table as cover to study the boy in his peripheral vision.  He was a tall, lean, lithe Sebacean hybrid, with black eyes and gray lips.  His short, spiky hair was streaked in black and blond, the colors meshing to form an odd combination.  He wore tight grey pants tucked into black knee length boots, and an oversized brown tunic that was cinched at the waist by a black leather wraparound belt, the sleeves tucked into elbow length black gloves.  He didn't have any obvious weapons, which only meant Tean had to be more cautious.

"He looks as comfortable as Brennik did in Cersten's bar that one day," he said softly.  His brother relaxed slightly at the memory, and he knew he'd calmed him down.  Sethya usually didn't get worked up over the young ones, but he'd been on edge lately.  Deciding to push his luck, he couldn't help but tease him.  "...until you started nibbling her ear.  Then I thought she was going to kill you."  His brother's patented scowl returned, and he chuckled to himself.  Sometimes it was too easy.

He watched as the boy swigged his drink, then stood and began to approach them.  Frell.  They didn't have time for this; their contact was due in 600 microts.  If there was anything amiss, Gweer would simply move on, and they'd have to start negotiations over again... at a higher cost.  They could afford it, but it would be an annoying, pointless delay.

Showing his mixed heritage, the boy glided across the floor with a grace that few Sebaceans could ever master.  Boldly, he approached their table and invited himself to sit on the stool across from them, head cocked slightly to one side.

He looked directly into Seth's eyes, which probably caused the slight pause before his brother told him, "Get lost."  Very few people ever looked at Seth directly.  Already this boy had gained a small amount of respect.

Too bad he didn't follow the direction, choosing instead to open his mouth.  "I need to hire the Shadow Brothers."

"They aren't transporting at this time.  Tell whomever you're working for they're out of luck."

"I can pay."

"So can a lot of people.  They are out of commission right now.  Go find someone else."

Tean silently wished the boy luck.  Maybe he would be smart enough to back off now, because Seth wouldn't say it again.  They were on a time limit.

"Please listen, I need your help."  Instantly, Tean's right foot shot out in sync with Seth's left, each kicking a leg of the boy's stool.  As it flew out from beneath him, they watched as he dropped, his nose slamming into the table as he fell.  Together they stood, each drawing their pistols and cradling them in their hands and aiming them with unerring accuracy directly at his forehead.
 
They heard him land on the floor with a forceful "FRELL!" that was uttered in a deep growl, belying his small stature.  He picked himself off the floor, holding his nose, trying to keep the pinkish grey blood from oozing too quickly.

"If you value your life," Seth warned one more time, "you will get lost now."  The tavern was silent, all eyes watching the trio to see what entertainment would be available.

The boy looked from one pistol to the other, resigned sadness clearly written across his features.  Shaking his head, he turned and began to walk away.  Disappointed, the other patrons returned to their own drinks and conversations.  This bar wasn't as exciting as it used to be.

They holstered their weapons and returned to their seated positions, each already lost in their own thoughts, the boy forgotten.

---------------------------------------------

Well, he'd managed to frell that up, hadn't he?  His mistake was not backing down the first time he was warned.  He thought persistence would impress them.  Instead, it had cut his chances down further.  He hadn't given up, though.  He couldn't afford to.

He thought about it a moment and corrected himself.  His first mistake had been impatience.  Those men were in that bar for a reason, and he'd almost frelled that up.  Instead of sitting back, waiting, watching, learning, he'd jumped in.  He was lucky he had walked away at all.  He wouldn't repeat that particular error again.

Finding himself outside the tavern, he kept his hand on his nose to stem the flow of blood and crossed the street, dodging traffic as he ran to his lodgings.  After entering his rented chambers, he moved to the washroom and examined the damage in the reflector.

Blood oozed down his face and lips, creating designs.  He stared at his reflection for a moment, watching the grayish-pink liquid drip into the sink.  Laighn, he recited to himself, rolling the foreign name over his tongue, trying to acclimate himself to it. 

Pulse shots sounded from the next room, shaking him from his reverie.  The noise was a regular occurrence in this section of the city, but the disturbance had been enough to bring him back to the matter at hand.   Quickly, he cleaned the mess on his face and gloves, trying not to think of his mother and how often she'd performed this same task for him, laughing about his latest predicament.

He was old enough to take care of himself now.  Hadn't he left to prove that very fact?  He shoved the vision of her beautiful smile to the back of his mind and finished his tasks.  The brothers may have already left, and he couldn't afford to lose them.

-----------------------------------------------

Sethya studied the Peacekeeper traitor in front of him with distaste.  Some would consider the thought hypocritical, but he would have argued.  This bag of dren was still active and selling Peacekeeper secrets... among other things, apparently.  If he didn't need this man's services, Sethya would kill him on principal alone.  He'd performed similar executions as a commando numerous times.

But unfortunately he did need the traitor, and even though it rankled, he remained silent, listening intently to the information being passed.  There was no doubt about the authenticity; Gweer's reputation for being reliable was ironically sound.  His continuing business, and life, depended on correct intelligence reports.

"...team of special operatives," Gweer was saying.

"Repeat that," Sethya ordered.

"High Command has garnered some new information and has sent in a team of special operatives," the traitor stated with exaggerated patience.

"Assignment?"

"Unsure.  They've been particularly careful in their security on this.  It's in the databanks, but it's specially encrypted.  I don't have the security access or the technological knowledge to retrieve it, although I believe it has something to do with an old traitor and a new weapon."

"Who is running the operation?"

"The team is reporting directly to a Scarren half-breed."

His heart stopped.  How many Scarren half-breeds could there be in the universe?  Could it be possible that John's old enemies had learned the whereabouts of Moya's crew?  That meant Brennik was in danger again, and he'd walked away from her.  He felt a nudge against his foot and he realized he was about to shatter his glass of juice in his hands.  Breathing deeply, he looked at the Peacekeeper in front of him.  "Where is the team now?"

"Undetermined.  I told you, all information is above my access."

"I can do it," Tean spoke for the first time.

"What was that?" Gweer asked, inadvertently showing his surprise at hearing Tean's voice for the first time in thirteen meetings.

"I can access the information, but it will take some work from you."

"I sell information; I do not go on unassigned missions, especially ones that mean no profit for me."

"All the information we extract will be at your disposal.  How many people would pay for the knowledge behind the encrypted codes of the Special Security Counsel?"

That had been the right thing to say.  Instantly the greed in Gweer's eyes began calculating the sums that would be at his disposal.  "Not that I'm agreeing to anything, but what do you need?"

"Contact the carrier Rashul, specifically Tech Officer Hyfed.   Tell him his father was a Trabactian Royal Whore.  He'll challenge you and you name a rendezvous time and place.  He'll give you everything required."

"That's all I need?"

"As long as you get the message right.  Get it wrong and you'll be shot as a traitor before you fall on your knees to beg for mercy."

"His father is a Trabactian Royal Whore," Gweer mumbled shaking his head.  "You Techs never make any sense."

"Only to idiots like you Gweer."  Tean leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, clamping his mouth shut, becoming mute once again.

The traitor looked at Tean warily for a microt before switching his attention to Seth.  "When and where do we meet up again?"

"Five solar days from now, at Dvut."

"That's pretty far away."

"You'll manage."

"There are added expenses involved, and the risk is higher."

"Take the difference out of the money you earned selling our location to that Sebacean kid."

Gweer's eyes shrouded with concern.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.  "But I'll do this on faith that you will follow through."

"Don't worry, Gweer.  You'll get your information."  Seth didn't push the issue, his point had been made.  The scum now understood that any more betrayals would lead to his disappearance.  Wordlessly, the man stood and left the tavern.

----------------------------

As soon as Gweer disappeared, Sethya beckoned to a waiter.  The harried server approached the table, prudently standing several arm lengths away.  "Two Flaming Purple Budongs," he ordered.

"The purple ones give me gas," Tean told him, trying to be subtle in his suggestion.

"Then don't order one," Sethya replied.

"You shouldn't be drinking them either," he said, giving up on subtlety.

"When you learn how to shoot better than me, you can tell me what to do.  Until then, frell off."

"Tell that to the Luxan bounty hunter that just walked through the door."

He watched his brother squint in the general direction of the front door to watch the new arrival meander toward the bar, scanning the crowd with a disinterest belied only by the intensity of his gaze.  By the expression on his face, Tean knew the instant Sethya confirmed his observation.  This was no young kid, arrogant enough to think he could gain a quick reputation.  This was a man who had obviously done this for awhile.

"Frell!"

He watched his bother slam his juice glass on the tabletop, frustration written all over him.  He was mad that he didn't spot the hunter himself, but Tean suspected he was also mad that he wouldn't get his drink.  He could sympathize.

"No restraints, meaning there's more," his brother observed quietly, his gaze continuing to search the crowd for the others.  "Where are they?" Sethya asked himself redundantly. 

Everyone in the tavern was immediately suspect and faces began to blur together to Tean.  "The longer we sit here, the better their chances," he pointed out unnecessarily.

"Let's get out of here."

Casually, the brothers stood and headed for the front door.  Their paths would have to pass directly beside the new threat, but there was no other exit.  This was the last time Gweer would pick the rendezvous spot.

With silent understanding, they each chose a different direction. Sethya headed across the floor, taking the most direct route to the front door, while Tean hugged the far right wall, keeping as much of the crowd between their potential captor and himself as he could.

As he passed a particularly thick group, he pulled a cloak off the back of a chair and, without breaking stride, swung the cloak over his shoulders as he continued on.  He pulled the hood over his head to mask his blonde hair, then changed course and headed straight for the door.  At least now his red shirt was no longer a welcoming beacon.  He hoped it was enough to fool the killer at the bar.

Tean could see the door about ten motras away, the bounty hunter watching intently.  He'd lost his visual on Sethya.  Not good.  Sethya would be fine, but Tean wasn't sure he could get himself to Shadow on his own if numbers got any worse.

Five motras away, maybe he would actually make it.  Three motras.  His hand reached for the door and a thump marked a knife blade embedding itself on the doorframe near his thumb.  "Frell!" he breathed before diving through the door.  There was probably an ambush outside, but it had to be better than this crowd.

[Auna]

Laighn watched the tavern carefully from across the street.  The Shadow Brothers hadn't left yet, and he couldn't afford to miss them.  He hadn't quite worked out how he was going to approach them, but he was confident the right moment would present itself.  If it didn't, he'd create the right moment.  One of the many seeds of truth his parents had passed on was that you make your own opportunities if they didn't provide themselves.

Absently, his hand reached up to gently caress the bridge of his nose.  It was already slightly swollen, and he was sure there would be an ugly bruise later.  Like everything else he'd ever done, he'd chosen to learn the hard way that he had to have patience with these strangers.  He also had to be direct and strong willed, which wasn't a problem.  It was this waiting he wasn't good at.

Just as he'd decided to cross to the tavern and peek inside, all hezmana broke loose.  A large figure in an enveloping brown cloak burst through the front door, chased seconds later by a dusty, scarred Luxan.  The figure ran to the right, but was cut off by two burly Sebaceans.  He was surrounded.

The Luxan grabbed the person and threw him against the wall before ripping the cloak from his head, tossing it to the ground to reveal Tean.  Now Laighn had a problem.  He'd been shown quite effectively that these men didn't like others to interfere with their business, but did they need help?  In the end, it didn't matter.  Heneeded their help, and if they were apprehended, they would be of no use to him.  He had to at least try.

His hand had already instinctively moved to his waist and he ran across the street, dodging traffic to the attack occurring on the walkway.  He was a building's length away, watching the progress of the beating Tean was taking, and calculating which aggressor needed to be dealt with first. 

The Luxan punched Teann in the stomach several times before asking where his brother was.  Tean told him to frell off, and was punched in the mouth for the answer.  This continued in the same manner for several hundred microts before Laighn made his decision.  It had to be the Luxan.  He was the strongest of the three, and apparently their leader.

He began to walk toward the group casually, wary of the Sebacean that had been set as a lookout.  The man's eyes were missed nothing, and the look he graced Laighn with would have sent anybody else in the other direction.  But he was no weak willed child and he was desperate and determined.

With a slight tug, his belt fell away to become a long black whip held securely in his hand.  Instantly he set the weapon in motion, aiming for the Luxan.  A resounding CRACK echoed throughout the street as the tip missed the target by half a dench.  "Frell!"  All four men were instantly staring at the youth, momentarily stunned.

The shock lasted only a microt, though.  Tean grimaced when recognition hit, the other three growled menacingly as the two Sebaceans headed toward their attacker.  Before they took three steps, rapid pulse fire sounded from inside the bar, and wood and mortar shot in all directions as Seth flew through the wall and landed on the sidewalk between the boy and the Sebacean thugs.

Tean, seizing the opportunity, kicked the Luxan in the mivonks and punched him in the neck between his Tenkas and chin.  Doubling over in pain and gasping for air, the Luxan was forced to let go and Tean turned for his brother.

Three Blood Trackers had appeared from the hole that had been made by Seth's emergence and the count of Bounty Hunters was now at six.  Laighn was scared and excited at the same time.  He'd trained for countless arns, and now was his chance to use what his father had taught him.

He threw his whip again and the loud crack that followed marked a perfect hit on the nearest Blood Tracker's neck.  Almost instantly his target dropped to the ground, unconscious.  "That would have been handy the first time, kid!" Tean hollered, throwing a punch at a Sebacean.

Sethya, getting his wind back, rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees, stopping to take a shot at another Blood Tracker that was running at him.  The pulse blast chewed through the robed chest, killing him instantly, but the enemy's momentum was too great.

 He didn't stop until he'd slammed into Sethya, landing them both on the ground, the tracker on top.  Sethya began pushing against the dead weight, groaning with the effort and the awkwardness of the angle.  His legs were bent under him; his feet near his waist, and Laighn figured he was probably beginning to lose feeling in his lower appendages.

Everything was happening at the same time; Sethya fought to rid himself of the dead Blood Tracker, Tean fought two Sebaceans and Laighn concentrated on the remaining Blood Tracker that was headed straight for him.  Aiming for the Tracker's leg, he sent his whip flying.  At the last microt, he expertly snapped his wrist, causing the whip to encircle the ankle of his attacker, cinching it firmly.

Yanking with all the strength his adrenaline supplied, he sent the Tracker flying to the ground.  Another twist of his wrist and the whip was free and sent once again on a vicious course to snap against the neck of the Tracker, rendering him unconscious.

Laighn turned his attention to the other men.  Tean was bleeding from a wound in his left shoulder, trying to fend off one Sebacean with a vicious looking knife, and the now mobile Luxan.  Sethya was still trapped, but had managed to retrieve his pistol and was aiming at Tean's attackers from beneath the dead body.  His shots were unusually inept due to the carcass laying on him, throwing off his aim.

All of this had been observed in half a microt and it only took another half microt for the boy to develop a plan.  Running within range, he used his whip on the neck of the Sebacean, leaving Tean to deal with the Luxan.

Spinning to Sethya, he let his whip fly again, gratified when it wrapped around the neck of the dead Tracker.  He began pulling, throwing his insignificant weight in to the effort, as Sethya pushed.  Together, they released him from his imprisonment.  Laighn twisted his wrist to find that his whip was tangled in the long hair of the Blood Tracker.  He was now momentarily weaponless.

He looked around in panic, only to see the ground strewn with the bodies of one Sebacean, three Blood Trackers, and a Luxan.  Sethya was on his stomach, trying to pull himself to his knees, Tean was leaning his right hand on one knee, doubled over catching his breath, oblivious to the red, sticky blood oozing from his left shoulder. Curious spectators from the tavern were huddled in the new entrance, watching the proceedings with avid interest.

"Thanks for the help, Seth," Tean said breathlessly.  "You did a lot of damage with that pulse pistol."

"Frell off," Seth bit out, grimacing as he forced his legs to move under him, pushing himself up.  "I haven't had to bend over that far since..." he glanced up at Laighn, almost registering his presence for the first time.  "Never mind."

"Get your eema up," Tean instructed unsympathetically.  "One got away.  You can bet more are on their way."

"Leave it to you to let one go," Sethya accused, grabbing the arm of Laighn to use as support as he pulled himself to his feet.  The boy had to brace his feet and lean back to keep from getting pulled to the ground.

"Oh, yes, because I wasn't already busy with the Luxan and the other Sebacean and that knife.  Speaking of which, where did you disappear to, anyway?  I was getting a beating out here, until the kid showed up."

"Oh, please," Sethya responded, letting go of Laighn's arm to test his balance.    His legs buckled, and he grabbed the boy once more to keep from landing on the ground.  "There were only three of them.  And if you hadn't noticed, I had three of my own to deal with.  If you'd pay attention to my lessons instead of fooling around, you might be better equipped to handle..."

"The kid took out two of them.  You can't claim them."  Tean finally realized his shirt was getting soaked in a darker red than the original color.  "Dren!  This was a new shirt."

The boy was astounded.  Not only was he being completely ignored, but these two men were acting as if they had just come off the sparring mat instead of barely escaping an ambush with their lives and limbs intact.

"You're welcome," he joined the sarcasm bravely.  "Didn't mind putting my eema on the line for you guys at all."

Both men looked at him for a microt before turning their attention back to each other.  "We've got to get out of here," Tean said.

"Yeah, yeah.  Give me a microt."  Sethya let go of Laighn's arm and managed to stay on his feet, although he was a bit shaky.  "A grown man should never be twisted into that position," he grumbled as he hobbled toward his brother.

The boy went to the dead Blood Tracker and began unraveling his whip, indignant at his treatment by the brothers.  "Come on kid," he heard Sethya call from behind him.  "You'd better keep up.  Right now your eema isn't worth the cloth to wipe it with."

Laighn pulled a large knife from his boot and cut away the hair, freeing his whip.  It only took one swipe of his hand to pull off the tangled black mess.  Replacing the knife, he flipped his whip around his waist.  Once again it was a belt, snapped into position.

The brothers were moving quickly, and Laighn had to jog a short distance to catch up with them.  "Where are we going?"

"Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, kid," Seth mumbled, still limping ungracefully. 

"You're going to get as much out of that limp as you possibly can, aren't you?" Tean accused.  "I'm the one bleeding here, do you see me slowing us down?"  He'd replaced the cloak over his broad frame, and the material swirled around him dramatically.

"Tean, you couldn't keep up with me on your best day," Sethya rejoined.  "Instead of running your mouth, you might have taken the time to notice the four Peacekeepers following us."

"Where," Tean said, not looking around.

"One behind us, one across the street, one on the roof of the building beside us and one three blocks up."

Laighn was duly impressed, and he fought the urge to look around, trying to follow the example of the men he was with.  Show No Fear seemed to be the name of this game, and he would do his part.  "Why aren't they attacking?" he couldn't help but ask.

"They're herding us," Tean answered.  "They know that four of them can't do dren, so they're leading us to their back-up."

"Why would the Peacekeepers work with those vigilantes?"  He was pushing his luck asking so many questions, but he was intrigued.  He'd never seen anything like this.

"They aren't.  Those bounty hunters were acting independently."

"So you're saying that you... we... have two different groups after us right now?"  It was getting harder and harder not to show the fear that was building.

"I told you that if you valued your life to stay away, kid.  You made your choice.  You can get out at any time.  But I warn you that you've now been seen with us."

Suddenly, the enormity of his brashness was sinking in and he didn't like the direction this was going.  "I need your help, and you weren't listening."

"I wonder why not," Tean said dryly, shooting a pointed look over his shoulder.  "It's not bad enough we have the peacekeepers after us, or that Klune's men finally caught up with us again, and on a side note- I really think this has become personal with him, but now we have the kid to look after as well."

"I can take care of myself," Laighn declared firmly.  He'd had lots of practice saying the same thing to his parents on several occasions.

Sethya turned sharply onto another street, nearly running into Laighn.  "Sure you can, kid," he said absently, ducking into a doorway.  Tean disappeared through the door behind his brother, leaving Laighn to decide if he wanted to follow.

He didn't have much of a choice, did he?  He had no doubt that by himself he could disappear and find his way to another commerce station.  He'd learned many tricks for survival from his mother; he wasn't without skills.  But loyalty was on the line, and he couldn't save his adopted uncle on his own.

Yotz, this was frustrating, especially knowing that his friend would not return the favor.  He probably wouldn't even thank him for it, the fek-face.  Sighing, he pushed the door open and followed his new companions.  The things one sacrificed for family!

He found himself in a massive, two story, indoor market.  Hundreds of shops lined the walls, with booths set up in the walkway selling anything and everything a person could possibly want, need, or imagine.  Bright ribbons cascaded from the ceiling to the floor, adding a holiday feel to the atmosphere.  A small, unseen band was playing somewhere in the distance.  Clothes from hundreds of different worlds adorned cheap statues in an effort to entice the buyers.  The smell of Hynerion Marjooles mixed with fried Grolack, turned his stomach.

Suddenly he realized he was hungry and desperately wanted a Peanut Butter Sandwich.  He hadn't had one of those in years.  They'd run out of that delicacy when he was still a child.  Ignoring his rumbling stomach, he set his mind to the task at hand, which was finding the Shadow Brothers.  They seemed to have blended into the festive crowd while he was blithering over insignificant details.

Someone bumped into him from behind, knocking him forward.  "Excuse me," a familiar voice said.  Laighn looked up to see Tean walk by as if they were strangers.  Which, in retrospect, they were.  But that was beside the point.  "No problem," he mumbled, turning to a booth that sold sweets.  Throwing several coins at the vendor, he grabbed a bag of purple balls before following his guide from several motras behind.

Casually, he opened the bag, fishing one of the treats from the bottom and popped it into his mouth.  The flavor exploded and his whole mouth was filled with honey sweetness, another thing he missed from home.  He continued to stroll along the hallway, munching candy and enjoying the sights while keeping Tean in his peripheral vision.

He was led through several hallways, and they'd turned three times before the man disappeared through another door.  This was getting ridiculous.  Laighn followed and found himself in a courtyard.

It was beautiful!  A lawn of grey grass carpeted the floor decorated with pink fountains spraying lavender water.  He felt peaceful and relaxed, almost wanting to sit on the pale green bench in the far corner to catch his breath.

The tranquility was instantly ruined by the sound of multiple boots hitting the ground near them.  "How did they find us?" he asked, pulling his whip from his waist and turning to face the four peacekeepers running toward them.

Sethya and Tean had their pistols aimed and were already firing shots as the three backed away from the attackers.  "Does it matter?" Tean asked.

Boots landed behind them and Laighn spun to find four more black suited peacekeepers running toward them.  A blast headed for him, and he ducked, feeling the heat from the blast as it passed his face.  Too close.  "Behind us!" he shouted.  Sethya spun, firing as he turned.

The three began heading to the opposite side of the courtyard when four more peacekeepers descended from the roof beside them.  "Whose bright idea was it to come out here?" Tean growled.

"Yours," Sethya replied calmly, firing more shots.  "I believe you said something about an entrance to an underground tunnel."

Laighn was frightened, waiting for a soldier to come within range of his whip.  So far, the two brothers had held them at a distance.  But now that they were coming at them from three sides, the brothers were losing ground.

"Oh, that," Tean said.  "You have to admit, it was a good idea."

"Yeah, the Peacekeepers thought so too."

Shots were ricocheting off walls, the various colors of the pulse blasts illuminating the courtyard with an impressive light show.  Shouts, shrieks, groans filled the air as the soldiers dropped at an alarming rate.

Laighn saw one soldier make it through the invisible perimeter his companions had managed to develop and he let his whip fly.  The resulting crack of the tip snapping an eye matched the sounds of the pistols, joining the melee.  He watched the eye fly from the face and land at the soldier's feet microts before the soldier joined it on the ground, unconscious.

His stomach began pushing the forgotten candy up his throat, trying to free itself of all its contents.  This was no longer the fun adventure he'd been excited about.  His actions had permanent consequences.

Now he was terrified.  The eye stared at him accusingly from the ground.

"Don't freeze up now, kid," Sethya said, somehow projecting a quiet calmness in the middle of chaos.  "If he didn't kill you, he would have taken you to be tortured."

The words were very little comfort, but the understanding with which they were delivered calmed his heart and helped to tame his racing mind.  Pulling his line of sight from the bloody eye, he looked up in time to see another soldier sneaking up on Tean's left side.  He was meticulous in his aim and managed to hit the neck this time, dropping the soldier.

Hands shaking, he scanned the courtyard, purposely avoiding the fallen soldier with the missing eye.  Residual smoke wafted upwards.  Black suited bodies were strewn over the grey lawn, now turning red in large splotches from spilling blood.

The sound of trickling water was an eerie punctuation to the absence of gunfire.  Laighn could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, matched by the deep gasps of air he was swallowing.  His adrenaline was flowing through his veins and he needed an outlet.  But the fight was momentarily over.

"You just killed 12 specially trained peacekeepers," he said incredulously.

"Actually, you knocked out two," Tean said conversationally, scanning the bodies.

"And they weren't that specially trained," Sethya said.  "These were just grunts, here to hold us off until the special forces arrive."  He approached the nearest fallen soldier and began to strip the man of his weapons, throwing a pulse pistol to Laighn.  "Know how to work one of these?"

"I'll figure it out," he responded as he caught it mid-air.  He was an excellent marksman against targets, but he wasn't about to pretend he knew anything about hitting a moving person.  All ego was gone now.   He just wanted to survive.

Tean was busy trying to strip one of the soldiers of his shirt with one hand.  His shoulder wound was oozing blood and his left arm hung at his side, nearly useless.  Sethya stomped over to him, pushing him out of the way gruffly.

"You're slowing me down," he growled at him, pulling first the shirt, then the belt, off the soldier quickly.  "The retrieval squad will be here anytime."  He went to another fallen soldier and stripped him of his shirt as well.

Laighn watched as the older brother pulled the blood soaked shirt off Tean, dabbing at the wound and applying pressure.  For all his talk of being in a hurry, he took time to fold a shirt and cinch it over the wound with the extra belt before pulling a black t-shirt over Tean's head and helping him thread his left arm through the appropriate hole.

"Some people will do anything to look like they actually have large pecs," he chided, referring to the large bulge in Tean's t-shirt.  His manner and attitude were gruff, but he handled his brother with a gentleness that belied all the bickering and insults.  These two were complicated.

"Get off me, man!" Tean said, smacking at Sethya's hands that were still adjusting the shirt.  "The retrieval squad is on its way."  He escaped his brother and walked to the center fountain, which was a statue of a large curved fish, elegantly spitting water.  Tean pushed on the tail and the entire fountain moved four motras to the right with a loud grinding noise that sounded like ferocious growling.

"You think that's funny, don't you?" Sethya griped.  Laighn heard Tean's chuckles and figured Sethya had his answer.  He was missing something, somewhere, but he knew better than to ask.

A small staircase descended into inky blackness and the boy knew that this was not going to be pleasant.  He hesitated when Sethya disappeared beneath the ground, and Tean waved at him impatiently.  "You coming, kid?"

[Auna]

Taking a fortifying breath, he stepped onto the stairs and descended.  At first, he had the sliver of light from overhead to guide his way, but Tean's footsteps followed and with another grinding moan, the light disappeared.  He was in total darkness.

This is what she felt like, all the time.  He reached for the wall and felt its reassuring firmness beneath his fingers, grateful for the sense of touch.  He didn't know how she had done it for three cycles.  He'd have been driven mad long before then.

Tean bumped into him and let out a nice expletive.  "Keep moving, kid!  We don't have all day."

A beam of light appeared several steps beneath him and he gratefully moved toward Sethya.  In his haste, his foot missed a step and realized a microt too late that he was beginning to fall.  In desperation he clutched uselessly at the wall, only succeeding in grabbing Tean and taking the man down with him.

Many thoughts traveled through his mind in his descent.  He thought about his father and how he'd laugh at him right now.  He thought about the men he was with and how they'd probably toss him back up to the courtyard, which might not be such a bad idea.  He thought of how embarrassed he was going to be and how he was grateful that they wouldn't be able to see his face.  Then he hit the stairs and rolled.

The bounce of the first step knocked the air from his lungs.  The second step bruised his ribs.  The third step gave him a headache and the on fourth step he ran in to Sethya.  He thought maybe his descent would end, but his momentum was too great and he found that the man was pulled down as well.

On they fell ever downward, the light Sethya had been carrying circling the small tunnel like a strobe.  Light, dark, light, dark.  Laighn marked each grunt and oof, knowing he was going to be accountable for every splinter they accumulated.  This couldn't be good for Tean's shoulder.  He felt worst about that.

Finally, all three landed in a heap at the base of the forty four stairs.  He'd counted.  "Tell me I can shoot him," Tean said from the bottom of the pile.

"No.  It's my turn," Sethya countered, peeling himself from the mound.

Laighn considered apologizing, but he'd observed the interaction between these two, and he was almost positive it would only make things worse.  All that was left was sarcasm.  "It's not my fault some frellnik didn't bother shining the light where it would actually be useful."

Silence descended for ten full microts and Laighn was getting nervous that he'd only made matters worse until Tean started chuckling, then laughing from under him.  A shadowy hand reached out to help him stand, and he knew he was forgiven.

Sethya assisted his brother and the three began their walk through the tunnel.  Tean was leaning heavily on Sethya, and Laighn was tasked to hold the lantern and lead.  The plan worked, if a bit slowly, until they reached an intersection and the tunnel forked into two paths.

"Which way?" Laighn asked.

"Left," Tean replied confidently.

"Are you sure?" Sethya asked.  "I know how your sense of direction is."

"It's left," Tean said again.

Laighn took the left tunnel, listening to Sethya mumbling about getting lost and never listening to Tean again.  Tean rejoined with something about Sethya making the contacts and doing the research for once, which set off Sethya about having to constantly bail Tean out of various predicaments.

The argument lasted until they reached another intersection.  "Take the right," Tean instructed.  "I know where I am.  This is exactly like the map."

Sethya hitched Tean's arm tighter around his shoulder, burdening himself with more of Tean's weight as he threatened bodily harm if his brother was leading them on a useless journey.

They began walking again when the lamp turned off, leaving them in total darkness.  "What did you do, kid?" Tean accused.  "Get the light back on!"

"I can't," he said.  "The power source isn't working."

A piercing shriek echoed from the abyss in front of them, sending chills down Laighn's back.  "What was that?"

"I don't know," Tean said quietly.

"This is your frelling tunnel, and you didn't bother to find out what LIVES here?" Sethya asked incredulously.

"It's supposed to be empty."

"Well, you're going to have to brief your source.  Or ask for your money back, because you got bad information."

"Scared?" Tean asked.

"Of course not," Sethya denied.  "I have you here to protect me."

Another shriek echoed through the darkness, closer and more urgent.  "It's coming closer," Laighn said, trying in vain to hide his mounting fear.  "Whatever that is, it isn't happy."

"We have two choices," Sethya said pragmatically.  "We can turn around and go back, and face the retrieval squad, IF we manage to find our way back out correctly in the darkness, or we can go forward."

That was it?  Those were their options?  Laighn was appalled.  The darkness was weighing on him and the thought of facing that... whatever it was... was terrifying.  Then another thought occurred to him.  "If we turn around, that thing will probably chase us and we'll still have to face it."

"Probably," Sethya agreed.

"All right, we'll go forward.  That's what you were going to do anyway, wasn't it?"

"Yes."  At least he knew where he and his opinion stood.

The shriek attacked from directly in front of them, flying at an enormous speed, buzzing them overhead and disappearing into the void behind them.

"Why is it that something is always flying at me!" Sethya shouted.

Tean was laughing, but managed to talk through his chortles.  "It's your sparkling personality, Seth.  It just begs for... oof!  Hey, I'm injured here."

"You're going to be even more injured if you don't shut your mouth."

A soft squeaking noise scurried underfoot and something brushed against Laighn's leg.  He'd had enough.  "Quit your bickering and let's get moving!" he shouted.  "There's more than the crier here!"

There was a moment of silence before Tean responded. "There are five more junctions until we reach the end."

"Great, let's go."  He shot one blast from his newly acquired pulse pistol and quickly surveyed the tunnel from the resulting microt of light.  Keeping the pistol in one hand and the other on the wall, he began to walk.

The ground was rocky, and he found himself stumbling slightly as he made his way through the darkness.  He'd hoped his eyes would adjust eventually, but everything remained black.

Every few motras he shot his pistol, searching for another junction.  The soft squeaks continued to scurry around their feet, and the shriek could be heard intermittently in the distance behind them.

He was beginning to become accustomed to all this, but it was the occasional bump against his leg that kept him on edge.  Initially, he'd shoot every time he was touched, but the blasts never hit anything, and the resulting light revealed an empty floor.  When Sethya made a comment about him being trigger happy, he stopped.

Eventually, they came to the next junction.  "Which way?"

Tean was silent and Laighn heard a distinct smackbefore his voice groggily reached out.  "I'm up," the words slurred.

"Great," Sethya answered.  "Now tell us which way to go."

"Left."  His voice was faltering.

"What about after that?"

"Right, left, center, right."  He groaned and the noise nearly matched the voices of the unseen animals around them.  "Choose the door with the star."  His voice faded.  Sethya reached in to a pouch on his belt and retrived an injector.  He punched it against the side of Tean's neck and Laighn knew that the man was carrying the full burden of his brother's weight.

"Is he dead?" Laighn whispered reverently.

"Probably," was the cold reply.  "Let's go."

How did he do it?  How could he be so unemotional over the death of his constant companion?  He'd seen their camaraderie, their dependence on each other, even if they did bicker constantly.  There should be some sense of sorrow.  These are outlaws, he reminded himself- smugglers and murderers.  They worked in a different reality than he was used to.

He felt a hand push into his back and he continued through the left tunnel, chanting to himself as he walked.  Right, left, center, right, star.  Right, left, center, right, star.  The gravel and dirt crunched underfoot, the sound mingling with the squeaks.

"That thing is coming closer again," Sethya warned after the piercing screech echoed again from behind them.  "If it makes you feel any better, if it wanted to kill us, it would have done so on the last pass."

"Yeah, makes me feel lots better."

Millions of scratching and scurrying noises erupted, accompanying a flurry of bumping objects pelting Laighn's leg, each squeaking with panic as it ran.  And then all was silent.  Then the sound of Sethya's labored breathing combined with Laighn's heartbeat and in the darkness, both men froze.

"Someone else is down here," the man whispered softly, the sudden silence alerting him.  "Get down."

The thought of getting on the ground with the unseen creatures was nauseating, but the boy didn't dare disobey.  He crouched against the wall, trying not to breathe and peered uselessly into the darkness.  The soft thudof Tean landing next to him on the ground sounded like a thunderclap in the oppressive silence, comparatively quiet to the grinding noise of Sethya sliding against the wall to the floor as well.

He kept his pulse pistol aimed in the direction they'd been traveling, his senses on high alert.  For the first time, he noticed the wet, musty smell of the tunnels, and he wondered what the unnamable stench was that permeated the air.  Was that him?  He'd bathed this morning.  Maybe it was Sethya or Tean.  Maybe it was the rodents.

Boots echoed on the gravel in the distance in front of them, coming closer.  So was the smell.  Well, that answered that question.  Did Peacekeepers usually smell that bad?  His only experience with them had been in the courtyard above, and there the smell of chakken oil, blood and smoke had reigned supreme.

Crunch... crunch... crunch....  His heartbeats were beginning to synchronize with their footsteps.  Four thin, red beams of light broke thru the darkness, sliding over walls and dancing around each other haphazardly.  They had night vision goggles.  Frell!!!  Frell, frell, frell, frell!!  He crouched even lower into the crook where the wall joined the floor.  Maybe they wouldn't look down.

Sethya stirred from the other side of Tean.  Laighn wanted to scream at him to get down, but in his fear, he sat mute.  Sethya's boots could be heard running toward the other men, but it wasn't until the other group fired that the rain of pulse blasts shot from the ex-commando.  He was using both hands, running at full speed straight for the unseen four, shooting his pistols with deadly accuracy.

Three lights dropped, shining upwards to the high ceiling, unmoving, and one disappeared around a bend.  Once again, silence descended.  "This is ridiculous," Sethya mumbled.

One of the lights began moving, then flying through the air toward him.  He caught the goggles with one hand and placed them over his eyes.  He could now see for roughly five motras in black and white.

Sethya was bent over the body of a bounty hunter, stealing another set of goggles.  After placing them over his head, he continued to rifle through the dead man's clothing, scavenging anything useful.    Finally, he was finished and returned to his brother.

"Let's go," he ordered as he hauled his brother into his arms, straining under the weight.  "Tean isn't light.  Move it, kid.  You remember the way, right?"

"Right, left, center, right, star."

They moved quickly now, quiet and careful, expecting the final bounty hunter to jump out at any microt.  The rodents made themselves known once again, scurrying and bumping into them.  Even with the night goggles, the animals were unseen, the monster that screeched at them pathetically invisible to their eyes.

Right... left... center... and then the bounty hunter finally showed himself, along with two of his companions.  Laighn smelt them before he saw them, so he was ready when they walked out from behind a corner, carefully scanning the area, pulse rifles held before them.

He was tired of being here, tired of running, tired of the raunchy smell and the creatures scampering around his feet.  Before two thoughts could coalesce in his mind, he fired three times and watched as three bodies hit the floor.  Well, he found out he could hit moving targets.  He wanted to vomit.

Without a word, they stepped over the corpses and headed for the next junction.  Right... now look for the door with the star.  The passage turned twice before they found themselves in a small cavern with three stone doors at the other end.

They were almost out of this waste hole.  Laighn gagged on a sigh and rushed for the doors, holding onto the promise of escape.  He heard Sethya dragging behind him, slower under the burden of his brother.

The stone saviors seemed metras away, and as he ran, it seemed they continually moved with him.  It felt like an arn before he finally stood before them, anxiously scanning for the star.

All of them had stars.

None of them had handles.

[Auna]

"What a frelling idiot!" Sethya huffed wearily from behind him.  "Leave it to Tean to not tell us the whole story."

Laighn felt he was being a bit harsh, since his brother had been in the middle of dying, but he agreed with the aggravation of not having the entire story.  He turned back to the doors, feeling the edges for a latch, or a lever, or a catch... something that would move the massive stones.  Nothing.

He turned back to Sethya to find that he'd placed his brother on the ground and was rifling through the pouches on Tean's belt.  This man was low enough to scavenge from his own brother.  That decided it.  As soon as they were free from this tomb, Laighn was going to escape and find his own way.

Sethya triumphantly removed an injector from one of the pouches and held in front of Tean's vacant gaze.  "All right, idiot.  Here we go."

He pushed the injector against his brother's neck and then tossed it aside.  His eyes were covered by the goggles, but his face was only a couple of denches from Tean's.  Laighn heard a soft "come on, come on," being mumbled.

There was a sudden gasp and Tean's chest began rising and falling, his head shaking from side to side, his eyes searching the darkness.  His breath was coming in ragged gulps and when Sethya reached for him, he fought the contact.

"It's me, Tean!  Knock it of!"

"Where are we?  I can't see!" he asked, calming slightly, still reaching through the darkness.

"In the tunnel, looking at three doors.  I wasn't going to revive you until we got back to Shadow, but you left out the directions."

"I can't move."

"I'll give you a stim-shot in a moment.  How do we get out of here?"

"Through the door with the star."

"They all have stars."

Tean's eyes closed and Laighn worried that he'd died again, but his lips started moving slightly and his fingers began twitching.  "It's the one with five points."

Laighn spun around and searched the doors.  "The one to the left."

"Now, how does it open?" Sethya asked.

"Place a finger on each point," Tean instructed softly, his face a grimace of pain.  "Turn the star three points to the right, one to the left, five to the right again, then push."

Laighn stood on his tip-toes to reach the star and followed the instructions exactly.  Nothing happened.

"Frellnik, it didn't work," Sethya accused.

A loud click resonated through the cavern and the grinding noise of stone sliding against stone sent chills down Laighn's back.  A blast of fresh air hit his lungs and he breathed in deeply, absorbing the smell of grass and flowers.

Sethya placed another injector to Tean's neck and continued to kneel beside him until his brother stirred and finally stood on his own.  "Let's do this."

They stood in the doorway, looking into the wooded area, searching for bounty hunters.  None were in sight.

"All right kid, now's where it gets tricky.  Shadow is on the cliff ledge above us.  On the count of three, run for your life.  One... two... three!"

Laighn ran with all of his reserve strength, but only made it five metras before an ex Zenetan Pirate and a Luxan trapped him, grabbing his arms and thwarting every attempt he made to struggle free.  Spinning around with the attempt to yell at Tean and Sethya that it was a trap, he realized the two men were no longer with him.  He'd been abandoned.

Well, what did he expect from outlaws, loyalty?  It didn't help his feeling of betrayal.  They were cowards.

He stopped fighting in an attempt to negotiate with these two.  The longer he kept them talking, the more time he had to come up with a plan of escape.  "Listen, you two want the Shadow brothers, right?  Who am I to you?  Why waste your time with me?  I can give them to you."

"We don't need your help."

"Yeah, because all of you have been real successful getting them on your own, right?"  He saw Sethya crawling on the ground behind the Luxan, inching his way closer.  "I've been working with them.  I know how they fight, I know their plans, I know their contacts.  You need my help.  They trust me."

"You are delusional, boy.  They do not trust anyone."  Two shots blasted through the underbrush and both bounty hunters fell to the ground.

"Thanks, kid," Sethya mumbled.

"What was that?" he yelled.  "You left me!"
 
"We had to make sure there were only two of them.  You did your part perfectly."

"So, I was bait?"

"Distraction sounds so much better, don't you think?  Let's go, unless you want to stay here.  Tean is halfway through the pre-flight by now."

Mumbling, he followed the outlaw through the trees and bushes and wondered what was in store for him next.

[Auna]

CHAPTER TWO

He sat on a large boulder on a mountainside, overlooking a valley filled with black trees and purple grass.  His choppy brown hair was getting too long, and the breeze kept blowing it into his mouth and eyes.  Brennik sat next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.

"How long do we have?" she asked in a contented voice, breaking the silence.

"Less than an arn."  He kissed her forehead before laying his head gently on top of hers.

She sighed and nodded, snuggling closer into his arms, and returned to listening to the gentle wind rush through the trees below.  Overhead, two birds gracefully danced around each other in the clear pink sky, playing a game known only to them.

Sethya closed his eyes and let her warmth and vitality pour into his soul, the peace of the moment absolute.  He would love her for as long as he could draw breath, and there was nothing he could, or wanted to do to change that.  And she was here, next to him.

Slowly, his free hand began to move of its own volition, reaching down to his leg and freeing his pulse pistol from its holster. His mind and heart screamed in protest, crying out to stop what was inevitable, but nothing changed.  The weapon seemed to fuse itself to his hand, and he watched in horror as the weapon was raised to the exact spot he'd just kissed.  His finger squeezed and the bright light of pulse fire exploded into her head.

Sethya jolted awake; hands shaking, his body drenched in sweat.  His mind was burned with the image of Brennik, as she lay in his arms, her face charred from direct fire.  His lips had kissed hers in death, and he could still taste the lifelessness.

He turned his head to look at his brother sleeping heavily in the bunk next to his.  Tean's wound had been sewn shut by his inexperienced hand, and he finally understood the uncertainty and horror Brennik had gone through when she'd put him back together.  Did he ever thank her properly?  Probably not, he'd been too busy pushing her away.

After he and the kid had boarded Shadow to find Tean collapsed in the Pilot's seat, they'd managed to get the man to his cramped quarters.  Once they'd taken off and gotten some distance between them and that planet, Sethya had painstakingly sewn shut the wound and applied medicine Noranti had given them before they'd left Moya.

Now all he could do was wait.  He hated waiting.

A sound at the door drew his attention, and he looked over to find the kid in the doorway, holding a forgotten cup in his hand as he watched Tean.  Sethya shook his head as he first sat and then soundlessly pulled himself out of the bed to his feet.  Motioning for the boy to follow, he slipped past him at the door and headed through the small corridor, his destination the food service room.

He didn't know how long they'd been in flight, or what the kid had been doing to occupy himself during all that time, but now was the time to find out.  He appreciated all the help the kid had been, but he had been clear about having an agenda.  It looked like the boy was going to have his chance, after all.

He led him to the small galley and sat in his usual chair, pointing at Tean's chair for the kid to sit in.  "All right, time to talk.  What's your name, what do you want from me, and why are you here?"

"My name is Sh... Laighn."

"All right, Shlane..."

"Laighn.  Just Lane."

"Laighn, then.  What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, surviving."

"Big picture, kid.  I don't have time for disseminating.  You hunted us down for a reason."

"It has come to my knowledge that my uncle has been sold as a slave, and is on his way to work the Jivihsten mines.  I need to get him out before he's killed."

"Even when Shadow was working, we were cargo runners.  What gave you the idea we would even consider a commission like this?"

"Among certain circles, your name is connected with the Amframiton Liberation, the Lokario Invasion and Ytjule Peace Title, all of which were commissioned for a fee.  Your cargo business is a front."

"Your sources were wrong."

"Forget my sources for a minute," he said waving his hand in dismissal.  Laighn leaned forward in his seat, pointing at the table to illustrate his point.  "This ship isn't big enough to transport cargo sizes large enough for the fees you generate."

"Sometimes it's not about quantity, kid, but quality."  Sethya leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest as he looked Laighn directly in the eyes.

"I need your help."

"You need a miracle.  Something like that would take weekens to plan.  The cost alone would cripple a large investor, let alone a runaway.  And any mercenary taking on such a commission would have to be in very good physical condition."

"I have money.  And I'm not a runaway, I'm nineteen cycles old."

Sethya raised one eyebrow to show his disbelief, but decided to pretend the boy was telling the truth.  "Klune would probably do it for you, although he can be pricey sometimes.  His men are well trained and he has the resources that would be needed."

"Klune... didn't you say that was the boss of those bounty hunters chasing us earlier?"

"Yes."

Laighn simply stared at him for microts, and he found himself wondering what he was thinking.  The boy's mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to say anything.  "You're recommending the business of a man who is trying to kill you?"

"You just said it.  It's business, Laighn.  He's trying to earn a crendar, just like everyone else in the universe."

"Except you."

"I've got a different agenda right now.  Listen kid; even if I was inclined to help you, and I'm not, Tean is too injured to handle anything like that.  Truthfully, I don't know how much longer he's going to be alive.  So at the next commerce planet, we'll let you off this ship and you can pursue your personal business."

"There's a diagnosan not far from here.  We're already in route.  He inflates his prices for those wanting to remain anonymous, but since you're so rich you don't need commissions, you can probably handle it."

"I'm a cargo runner, Laighn.  Not a mercenary."

"That's not what Zodora said."  Laighn was looking him in the eye.

Sethya didn't flinch.  He made sure not to blink.  This kid was good.  "Who?"

"Zodora, the man you pulled from the Nebari prison transport.  He sends his regards, by the way."

Dren.  Well, that still didn't change anything.  "I'm not going after your uncle."  For half a microt he thought about it.  Tean always scoffed at his weakness for those in need of help, but it was a flaw he'd never been able to purge.  He was lucky that very few people knew how soft he really was.

Laighn chose that moment to tilt his head sideways, staring at him intently.  The involuntary gesture reminded him of Chiana, which instantly reminded him of Brennik.  He'd been doing so well, too.  It had been sixty microts since he'd thought of her, or the fact that Scorpius probably had a retrieval squad after her right now.

Which reminded him of his meeting scheduled with Gweer at Dvut.  "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Thirty three arns."

"How far away is the diagnosan?"

"Four arns."

Frell.  He'd have to drop Tean off and go on to the rendezvous without him.  He didn't like that idea, he hadn't been anywhere without Tean in nearly three cycles.  It would be like chopping off his arm.  He also didn't like meeting Gweer without back-up.

It would take Tean a while to recover, but he couldn't infiltrate the command carrier and get the information without him.  And he needed that intel on the retrieval squad as soon as possible.  Although his brother wouldn't be strong enough to fight if needed, he'd still be able to work his technological magic.

They needed another set of able hands for defense if the fahrbot mission any hope of being successful.  A plan began forming in Sethya's mind and, though he didn't like it, the solution was presenting itself.  "How badly do you want to save your uncle?"

Laighn was smart enough to suddenly look worried.  The change of mind happened too quickly for him to believe that Sethya suddenly decided he could use the cash.  "Why?"

"I'll consider an exchange, a favor for a favor."  Seth expected the kid to ask what the favor was, but was surprised when he simply sat back in his chair and sighed, folding his arms over his chest in an imitation of Sethya.

"If that's what it takes.  Tell me when and where."

---------------------------------------------------

Gweer had not only gotten them the information and equipment they needed to infiltrate the command carrier, he'd managed to supply them with detailed reports on the Jivihsten mining operation, for an inflated price.  He was now waiting seven solar days to rendezvous with the three mercenaries on the command carrier.  Hopefully that was enough time for Tean to heal and for Sethya to fulfill his side of the bargain.

Which brought him to the situation at hand.  He was traveling in a primitive wagon, pulled by a beast of burden, with Laighn sitting beside him shackled in full restraints.  They were nearing a large wall that stretched for metras to either side.  Towers manned by armed guards were placed strategically at regular intervals.

The guards were armed with silver body armor on their chests, their heads covered with plumed silver helmets.  On their hips hung short skirts of deep green material, leaving their knees exposed.  On their feet they wore silver boots that covered their shins.

This should be easy, Sethya reflected.  Shoot out their knees.  A vision of the Black Knight in a movie Crichton had forced him to watch appeared before his eyes.  "It's a flesh wound."  I'm losing my mind.

"Hold it there," he was instructed by one of the guards.

He stopped the wagon and held the reigns loosely in his hands.  His pulse pistol lay in its holster, in plain view.  He glanced briefly at Laighn.  Good, the kid has his belt on.  It was probably going to get them out of this impossible situation.

"Greetings, from Emperor Thasniodian, I bring a present to your Elected."

The guard looked behind Sethya with keen interest to the exotic young man sitting quietly, staring straight ahead.  He was a beautiful boy, and fragile looking.  Just the way the boss liked them.  "Let me see your clearance."

Sethya pulled an ident chip, similar to the ones he had used as a PK, from a chain around his neck.  The soldier held up a small box and he slid the chip into the slot at the top.  Now was the time to see if Gweer was as useful as he claimed.

Everything slowed and the green and silver-clad soldier stared at the box for an infinite amount of time.  Laighn shifted slightly in his seat and Sethya nudged him.  Patience.  If they were going to be caught, he wanted the maximum amount of time to come up with a plan.

He scanned the area in apparent unconcern, taking in every detail.  There was nothing to help them in their retreat, if needed.  The forest behind them would afford them the only cover to avoid being shot, and that was half a metra away.  If that ident chip failed, they would either be killed or enslaved.  Given the options, he preferred dead.  Then he wouldn't be forced to think of Brennik and the crew of Moya being hunted by a retrieval squad with him incapable of helping.

"Go through the gate and tell the sentry you have been cleared, access code 46910.  He'll give you further instructions.  Your weapons will be turned in there."

"Yes sir," Sethya responded, flipping the reins and clicking his tongue.  The wagon lurched forward and they slowly approached the entrance.

A large wooden gate slowly lowered on two chains, bridging a massive moat filled with long, sharp spikes.  The sound of the beast's hooves klunked on the wood as they crossed and the animal slowed, instinctively hesitant.  When it lifted, there would be no way out.  Sethya didn't blame the animal, but urged him forward patiently.  Laighn remained silent, looking timid and frail.

So far everything was progressing according to plan.  This couldn't last much longer.

"Halt."

They halted.  They had barely passed the gate and were now in a courtyard.  The sight was staggering.  In the distance was a massive pit with thousands of holes interspersed along metras of spiraling roadway.  Countless green and silver guards stood watch over tens of thousands of slaves toiling in the dirt.  They looked like a colony of insects.  Every race Sethya had ever encountered, and many he didn't recognize, were represented among the workers.

The sight was abhorrent.  Laighn remained passive, even letting fear shine through his black eyes.  "Don't worry," Sethya said loud enough for the gate-guard's benefit.  "That won't be your fate."

The guard snickered.  "Access code," he demanded.  It was obvious he already knew what their purpose was, but Sethya responded for protocol's sake.

"46910."

 "Both of you, out of the wagon," he ordered.  "Stand there, by the wall."  Sethya jumped down and turned to assist Laighn.  They walked to the wall and stood with their backs to the mortar.  Another guard joined them, a rifle held ready.  "Hand over all weapons, one at a time.  They will be held here for your departure."

Sethya made a show of reluctantly handing over his pistol, then reached into his boot and pulled out a knife.  He pulled a hand dart from one pouch on his belt, a set of brass knuckles from another pouch, a dagger from a sheath under his long jacket, and finally a mini-pistol from a pocket.

"That's a lot of weapons for one small boy," the guard remarked wryly.

"It's not the boy I'm worried about.  It's the people who desire him.  He is a particular favorite of Emperor Thasniodian, and I was instructed to deliver him undamaged."  Laighn managed to look alluring, emanating shy "come hither" eyes.  Sethya was impressed.  How did the kid manage it?

The guards stared at the hybrid for several microts, spellbound until the guard with the rifle cleared his throat.  Shaking his head as if to clear it, Rufus (as Sethya was beginning to think of the guard in charge, he reminded him too much of a cadet he was in training with) continued with the orientation and welcome ritual.  "Both of you will strip at this time.  Release the restraints of your... charge," he barked.

"Frell no," Sethya refused.  Rufus looked affronted and Sethya continued, delicately.  This was where things got tricky.  "Nobody touches or looks at the boy until I'm satisfied he is safely in the hands of the Elected.  I have searched him; he is hiding nothing.  I have been cooperative until now, but my patience is wearing thin.  And before you get any brilliant ideas, I am under the protection of my Emperor, and any damage inflicted on me, or my 'charge' will be considered an act of war.  I will strip for you, but the boy remains restrained and completely clothed."

"Entrance is denied, then.  Take your belongings and leave immediately."

Sethya lowered his voice and he saw Rufus lean in to hear better.  "Are you really sure you want to deny your Elected the boy here?  He knows his prize is here.  What do you think will happen to the underling that gets in the way?"

Rufus swallowed several times, looking trapped and torn.  Sethya could feel for the guard, he had been given a lose-lose scenario.  "Strip, then.  And be quick about it."

After Sethya submitted to a very thorough and public strip search, they were finally cleared to leave.  Sethya had to practically lift Laighn into the wagon, his leg restraints impeding his ability to climb in by himself.  Finally, they were settled.

"You are cleared to travel to the Home Building.  Keep following this path for three metras.  Stay on the road, and you'll find it easily enough.  If you stray off the road, we will not be held accountable to your government for any consequences."

"What's on the side of the road?" Sethya asked.

"Wyrms.  They'll swallow you whole and ingest you alive.  When your bones are stripped clean, they'll excrete them and leave them in the sun to dry.  When they get three days worth of sun poisoning, the monsters will grind them up and snort them.  It's a long and painful death, but it makes our lives a lot easier.  Before the Wyrms moved in, we had a rough time keeping the slaves in check.  Now they practically manage themselves."

Where was Gweer's intel on that little tidbit of trivia?  This could be a bad thing, or a good thing.  He wondered how quickly the Wyrms attacked once somebody fell into their territory.

Sethya, clicking his tongue, headed the wagon down the path indicated by the guard.  He was surprised no one escorted them, but he figured the Wyrms probably kept people from wandering too far astray.

They rode in silence for a half metra, Laighn keeping up the act of terrified, shy, boy siren.  When they were alone, the restraints dropped and he rubbed his gloved wrists.  "You had those on tight enough."

"It had to be convincing.  What if they'd checked?"

"Speaking of checking, that was a lot of fancy talking you did back there.  I'm impressed.  What would you have done if they had actually searched me?"

"Died fighting.  Do you still have everything?"

"I've got my whip, my boot knife, the stun tazer hidden in my hair, and that little clear packet you threw at me right before we left.  What is that, anyway?"

"A visual dampening cloak.  Once you break the seal, you have 400 microts that no one will see you.  After that, you are visible again."

"Drad!  Why haven't I ever heard of these before?"

"They're illegal.  And they have some side effects."

Laighn looked worried.  "What kind of side effects?"

"Nothing to worry about, just a little rash.  But only use it as a last resort."  A little rash, just like Peacekeepers are a little neurotic or Moya is a little bit big.  Well, it wouldn't kill him.  "I don't like this.  This plan is frelled."

"I can take care of myself.  Just be at the rendezvous spot at the right time."

"I'm not the one claiming I can escape an armed castle single handedly."

"Don't worry; I'll be there to fulfill my end of the bargain."  Nothing else needed to be said and they grew silent.

A large stone building appeared in the distance, so Laighn put the restraints back on, using Sethya's keys to double lock them.  The timid, alluring mask was back in place.

Home Building, Sethya presumed.  It was ten stories tall with towers and turrets decorating the roof.  Countless windows dotted the walls, surrounded by green vines growing against the mortar.

"You can get out of that?" he asked doubtfully.

The boy scanned the turrets and the massive building, as if sizing up an opponent.  "This'll be easier than I thought," he responded.

----------------------------------------------

You've GOT to be kidding me, Sethya thought to himself.  Before him stood an eight motra tall bipedal with brilliant orange knee length pants, no shirt, a snout for a nose and a huge fan of royal purple feathers accentuating his head.  He stood regal and dignified, and managed to look down his snout at Sethya and Laighn as if they were vermin he'd like to squish with his green, high-heeled boots.

"Greetings," Sethya started.  The man merely snorted in reply.  "My name is Sethya Miskaahl.  I bring a gift fro..."

"Access code," Featherman interrupted.

"46910," Sethya instantly responded, grateful he had a decent memory.

"Your quarters for your stay are in the east wing.  Do not leave it until summoned.  Dinner is at sunset, do not be late.  The Elected will meet with you after dinner.  Do not try to engage him in business until then."  Nothing like getting straight to the point.  "Follow me."

Obediently, the two followed him into the building.  Everything was grandiose and opulent.  The halls were massive, the decorations extending from floor to ceiling.  Imported flowers sat in multicolored vases on tables lined against the walls.

The corridors twisted in odd directions, turning in on themselves and backtracking occasionally.  If a person didn't know his way around, it would be impossible to navigate.  Which was probably the intent of the builders.

Eventually they found themselves in front of a small metal door.  Maybe it was regular size and perception was off because of the magnitude of the proportions of everything around it, but Sethya decided to be offended.  "What is this dren?  I am a royal courier of Emperor Thasniodian!  I will not be slighted by receiving the castoff quarters!"

"Apologies for the misunderstanding," Featherman replied insincerely, "But these are the best guest chambers we have for your species, I assure you.  Do not be deceived by the scale."

He opened the door with an impressive flourish and waved his arm to show the view.  The room was impressive.  It was beyond beautiful; it bordered on royalty.  One entire wall was glass, showing a view of water crashing over rocks down below.  The carpet was a thick, dark gray, and the bed adorned with the same color purple as their guide's feathers.  Comfortable chairs were scattered throughout and an opened side door showed a waste facility that used all golden attachments.

Sethya sniffed.  "If this dump is all you have, I guess it will have to suffice."

"Thank you sir," Featherman replied, bowing deep at the waste, somehow exuding a patronizing air.  "A guide will be here in three arns to escort you to the dining facilities.  If you have any needs until then, simply push the button near the door and a servant will assist you."

"Thank you, that will be all for now."  Sethya dismissed.  He received tremendous satisfaction at the perturbed look that appeared on servant's face before he left the room.

-----------------------------

Last meal.  The sun was setting on the horizon and orange and purple streaks melded together over the blue ocean of water below.  All of this could be seen through the glass wall in the conference room from the massive table at which Sethya and Laighn were sitting.  The room was devoid of light fixtures, the walls seeming to emanate just enough illumination to see with.

They were still waiting for the Elected.  Evidently, punctuality was not requisite for him.  The room itself, like the rest of the building, was massive.  The wooden table extended the length of it, decorated with the same flowers adorning the walls of the hallways.

They were not alone.  Sethya counted fifty chairs surrounding the table and they were slowly being filled by men and women of all species.  Everyone was dressed ornately, colorfully, and to Sethya's mind, ridiculously.  Didn't any of them realize they resembled a preening Paferg bird?  The waste of materials and resources turned his stomach.  He sat quietly, his usual scowl on his face.

It didn't matter, though.  He was being ignored.  All eyes strayed to Laighn sitting beside him in handcuffs and leg irons, timidly looking at his placemat in front of him.  The boy's eyes were downcast, his hands resting in his lap, shoulders trembling slightly.  Occasionally, he would glance up to meet the gaze of an admirer and his eyes would immediately evade prolonged contact.

"Do not over act the part," Sethya cautioned softly.

Laighn glanced at him with hurt eyes, only adding to the image and causing several onlookers to glare at him with reproachful stares for whatever he'd said to injure the innocent boy.  Everyone in the room was enthralled.  Some were better at hiding it than others, but everyone was under his spell.

Good.

The women on Laighn's right let her hand subtly stray to his knee, and then slowly slide upward.  Before her hand moved two denches, Sethya had her wrist locked between his fingers, squeezing softly to illustrate his point.  "He is for Netrijon," he announced, hoping to get the word around so there would be no more of this foolishness.  The woman's anger turned to fear and she pulled her arm away.

A low whisper traveled across the room, spreading the news of the Elected's newest toy.  Eyes were diverted, but they all held a trace of pity for Laighn and hostility for Sethya.  Or maybe he was imagining it.  Doubtful.

A horn, sounding like a sick Keedva, blared.  Instantly everyone in the room stood.  Sethya followed their example and put a hand under Laighn's arm to pull him to his feet.  The door, which had been open only microts ago flew open again, slamming against the walls with a crash.  In walked the infamous, and deadly, Elected.

He held the title of President of the company that owned the slaves, but had seized power ten cycles ago so ruthlessly, that the title was merely a vanity.  He was lord of this operation and ruled with absolute power.  He wasn't ungenerous to his employees.  Those that made it to his favored list were well taken care of.  But it didn't take much to fall off said list, and everyone catered his whims.

His dinner attire was as whimsical as those that had already arrived.  He wore pink pantaloons with white stockings underneath, a yellow frilly shirt, heeled white shoes with purple bows on them, and a long purple duster that matched the bows.  In his arms he carried a white ball of fur that was yapping with an intense ferocity.

Sethya had to engage all his training not to raise an eyebrow.  Instead, he smiled warmly, feeling his cheeks begin to crack with the unaccustomed effort.  This is for Brennik and her family.  Remember Brennik.  He was gritting his teeth so hard, his jaw began to ache.  Purposely, he relaxed and watched the show unfold around him.

"Hoorah!" shouted Netrijon, throwing his arms into the air and his head back, letting his long blonde hair flow across his back.  The yapping fur-ball was held in his right hand and began yelping in dismay.

The entire room of people suddenly produced white handkerchiefs and began waving them in the air.  "HOORAH!" they all shouted in unison, stomping their feet.  The sound was deafening.

Sethya, without moving his head or losing his smile, moved his eyes to Laighn.  The young hybrid still had on his terrified, innocent mask, but when his gaze connected with Sethya's, his eyes held the same horrified incredulity as the older man's.  This was ridiculous.

The Elected dropped his arms and instantly the silence was deafening.  There wasn't even the sound of anyone breathing.  Laighn chose that moment to sneeze and all eyes, including Netrijon's, turned to the two visitors.  The boy looked embarrassed, adding to his allure.

Sethya wanted to smack him.  It had been obviously planned.  With one small "involuntary" gesture, the kid managed to completely negate the President's grandiose entrance, focusing all the attention on himself.

"I- I- I'm s-s-sorry," he stammered softly with pleading eyes aimed directly at the President.  He dropped his gaze respectfully, and Netrijon's scowl softened with desire.

"We have guests tonight, I see.  We shall all endeavor to be on our best behavior."  He smiled graciously and the sigh of gratitude from the onlookers emphasized the intensity of the tension they lived with.

He waved his arm and Featherman appeared from a side room, wearing pink pantaloons that matched Netrijon's.  He pulled the end chair from the head of the table and the President delicately perched himself on the end of it, placing the now quiet ball of fur on the table.  Sethya wondered if the thing was still conscious after all the tossing around it had just endured.

Placing his hands flat on either side of his gold plate, the Elected breathed in deeply and looked at the faces sharing his table.  Forty-nine fake smiles shined back at him and he grinned in contentment.  "Let us eat!"

Large platters overflowing with colorful, fragrant food were being placed on the table by haggard looking servants.  More began to dish the food out, others filled glasses, several even dabbed a few faces with napkins.

One approached Sethya with a cloth, and as the servant wiped his face, he endured the humiliation with civility.  Brennik, John, Brennik, Aeric, Brennik, Moya, Brennik... he chanted in his mind.  Just a few more arns and this would all be some terrible memory, left to be forgotten.

The meal was a festive occasion with cheerful conversation and laughing interspersed with flirting.  Everyone seemed to be having a good time... including Laighn.  His mask of innocence was still in place, but the boy had now figured out his mark and was slowly seducing the Elected from across the room, without the man realizing what was happening.

Every mouthful of food brought to Laighn's grey lips was graceful, calculatedly seductive.  Netrijon could not look away, and every time Laighn seemed to enjoy a particular bite, he stared in wonder, his mouth moving slightly, imitating the boy's.  Their eyes would connect for microts at a time, and Laighn would always look away timidly.

This kid was better than good.  He was a master.

Dinner dragged on for an arn before the sick Keedva roared again.  It was now time to move to the Business Den.  Supporting Laighn with one hand, he herded the boy from the dining room, following the crowd.

-------------------------------------

Netrijon sat on a throne in the front of the large room, listening to endless business reports with calculation.  He may be vain, but he had a very sharp business sense, and no detail was too small for him to dissect if it seemed wrong.

 Finally, it was Sethya's turn.  The Elected turned to him with hunger in his eyes, continuously letting his gaze slide to the boy.  "Sir," he said as he stood.  "I bring tidings from Emperor Thasniodian of the Fashtet Empire."

"I've never heard of them," Netrijon interrupted.

"That is not surprising, sir.  Our leaders have historically been known for their strict sense of privacy.  However, I'm sure if you checked your databanks, you will find any information you may require."

The Elected was intrigued.  He waved his hand and a servant appeared with a metal slate, holding it before his Master.  This was the final test.  All the planetary data they had invented was encoded in a virus on the ident chip originally scanned by the first guard they had approached.  By now, the information should have infiltrated the home base computers.

Sethya stood waiting, watching, as the man found the desired information and perused its contents with leisure.  He could tell the precise moment the man had absorbed all the pertinent information and satisfaction poured over him.  This frelling plan might just work after all.  Netrijon now knew that Sethya Miskaahl was the chief courtier of a planet with the armada and ability to decimate this entire compound with merely a cough.

"I see you come from a very advanced and noble world," Netrijon said with calculated diplomacy.  "To what do I owe this generous visit?"  His eyes managed to stay on Sethya, but there seemed to be an involuntary twitch to Laighn's direction that he was fighting.

"Your Esteemed Sir, I come with some embarrassment for my ruler.  It seems there has been a grievous error."

"And what might that be?"

"Empress Thasniodian has been somewhat aggrieved, and the Emperor has not had a moment's rest since this knowledge has come to light.  The Empress's lifelong mentor and teacher has been mistakenly sold to your compound as slave.  She wants him back."

"Impossible, I have no slaves.  I merely have devoted employees."

"The Emperor realizes the inconvenience this would mean for you.  He has sent me with adequate funds to compensate you for your monetary loss.  He also sends his favorite concubine as a gift to thank you for your time and patience."

Now was the time the President could survey Laighn without breaking protocol.  The desire burned in his eyes and he stared unabashedly at the quaking boy.  "This is highly unusual," he tried to bluff.  Everyone in the room knew that the deal had been sealed before the conference even began.  "How can I be sure of which employee you wish to take?  He might be irreplaceable."

"His identification number is H782DXV.  From our understanding, that means he is one of your mine workers.  Surely, one less would be nothing to a man with such vast resources as yourself."  Sethya wanted to vomit.  Did this guy really believe the drivel pouring out of his mouth?  Evidently he did, he smiled and preened a bit.

"You know quite a bit about our operation."

"I believe in being prepared."

"Well... you certainly seem to be that."  He looked at Laighn for a long moment, almost as if he were fighting an internal battle.  Laighn, looking at his boots, delicately licked his grey lips with the tip of a pink tongue.  The deal was cemented.  "I can understand the difficulty of an angry wife," he stated pompously.  "I feel sympathy for your ruler and will accept the recompense and gift for my loss."

"Thank you, President Netrijon.  I will tell them how gracious you have been."  Sethya bowed deep at the waist and was so thrilled the meeting was over, his smile was nearly genuine.

"You and the boy are invited to wait in your chambers until the funds have been forwarded to the company's account.  At that time, the employee you are seeking will be delivered to you and your charge will then be shown his new quarters."

Thrilled at not being forced to endure this pomposity for the rest of the evening, Sethya was graceful in his acceptance.  "That is acceptable, sir.  The funds will be in your account within the arn."

"I wait with anticipation."

I'm sure you do.  Especially since Laighn had taken to shifting subtly in his seat, as if unable to find a comfortable position.

--------------------------------------------

They were sitting quietly, facing each other in the darkness.  The room was not in total obscurity.  Moonlight from the two moons poured through the glass wall, throwing shadows over the bed and making every decorated bauble a distorted image of its true form.  But the illumination stopped halfway across the room, just shy of the two men enveloped in cushioned chairs.

They sat listening to the sound of the ocean pounding below.  The constant roar was dampened by the glass and the height of the building, but as the stillness deepened, the rush grew louder, consuming.  Small, less discernable slaps beating against the sharp boulders broke the constant sound into variations and an arrhythmic melody slowly played out in the union of the waves and the rocky beach.

The room was in perfect stillness.

Laighn's restraints lay in a heap on the floor next to his chair where he dropped them, easily accessible should the courier return unexpectedly.  The boy's funds should finish transferring soon, and this moment would end.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Sethya whispered, not wanting to break the spell cast around them.

Laighn nodded, the movement only perceptible as moving shadows.  "How much longer, do you think?"

"Was the money really there?"

"Yes, the money was real."

"Then I'd say any microt now."  Conversation was depleted.  Both sat further back in their chairs and let their minds wander to their own thoughts.  Sethya was impressed with the boy's patience.  It was rare to see such ability in one so young.  His trainer must have been very skilled.

A sharp rap on the door shattered the calmness.  Sethya stood and walked to the door, opening it only far enough for him to see Featherman, the messenger.  "What say you?"

"The funds have transferred, the employee waits in the den.  I am here to collect the boy."

He felt Laighn behind him and opened the door a little wider.  "Time to go to your new home, boy.  Don't disappoint the Elected, or embarrass Emperor Thasniodian."

"No sir," Laighn responded softly, head held low.  "I will not shame my master."

He slid past Sethya and meekly stood behind the escort, fully restrained.  The pompous messenger began walking away, tossing a careless "Your escort will be here shortly," over his shoulder as he led the way.

Laighn glanced at Sethya and winked, smiling mischievously.  Watching the young man follow the purple feathers, Sethya nearly felt sorry for Netrijon.  Nearly.

Another servant appeared before him and, without further instruction, he began following him through the endless corridors.  At last, he was in the Business Den where he'd first addressed the Elected.

Glancing around, Sethya could find no trace of anyone that looked like a relation to Laighn.  Had they been cheated?  Had their farce been discovered?  This was going to get messy in a few microts if it had.

The president sat in the same chair he'd occupied earlier, looking excited and giddy.  "There is your scholar, Sethya Miskaahl, just as requested.  If there is anything else my humble company can do for your Noble Emperor, please let us know."

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir.  I have not made the acquaintance of her Majesty's mentor as of yet.  Please bring him to me."

"He's directly behind you."

Sethya turned expectantly, to find a bedraggled grayish-green blob with bushy earbrows standing beside a guard that was holding him captive with a chain choker and a mouth wrap.  "This is a Hynerion," he stated flatly.

"Yes, we thought it odd that your majesty's mentor would be a Hynerion, especially one as delusional as this one seems to be.  He claims to be Dominar Rygel the XVI, dethroned.  Perhaps age has affected his thinking, and all his years spent at court are manifesting themselves in other ways."

"He's a Hynerion," he said again.  Laighn, half Nebari, half Sebacean, had a Hynerion uncle?  No.  Surely, the boy would have said something.

"That has been established."

"Are you sure there has been no mistake?"

"We were perplexed as well.  We have rechecked the manifests three times.  This is the individual you have requested."

The little green slug was standing with his back straight; managing to look down his non-existent nose at Sethya, who stood over three motras taller than him.  He mumbled something through his mouth guard, but the words were jumbled together.

"Remove the mouth guard," Sethya ordered.  There was only one way to find the truth, and Sethya was going to make sure he rescued the right person before he left.

The guard looked reluctant and the Elected frowned.  "I don't think you want to do that," he advised.  "He has not stopped his incessant jabbering since we've located him."

"I need to speak with him, to verify he is, in fact, the Empress's mentor."

Looking very unhappy, the guard sighed and pulled the mouth guard from the little Hynerion's mouth.  The slug smacked his lips a couple of times and adjusted his jaw with one hand, making the tiny chains holding them clatter as they moved.  At last, he stood straight once more and looked directly into Sethya's eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked brusquely.

"I am Sethya Miskaahl," he informed the small man.  If this were the wrong prisoner, they'd know in a microt.  "I come in the name of Empress Kit-Kat Thasniodian.  She misses her friend, Em-n-Em, and wishes for your safe return."  It sounded about as intelligent as one of Tean's codes, but Laighn swore his uncle would recognize it.

The Hynerion's demeanor completely changed from one of defiance to that of friend and confidant.  "Ahhh, but we all know that Reese's Pieces were always her favorite."  Holy dren, this was the man.  He was going to shoot Laighn when they met up again.

"Release this man, his freedom has been purchased."

The look on the guard's face was comically reluctant, but he reached over and unlocked the chains and neck choker keeping the Hynerion in place.  They fell to the floor with a loud clattering, and Rygel stepped over them with all the pomp and dignity of the Dominar he claimed to be.  Slowly he walked to Sethya and stood before him, leaning his head back to address him.

"Let's not keep the Empress waiting."

Sethya turned to the president, sitting high on his throne.  "Sir, I require my vehicle to be brought to the front, we will be leaving immediately."  Sethya stood tall next to the little Hynerion.

"It is late.  Are you sure you will not stay the night?"  Netrijon shifted in his seat impatiently, obviously uncaring if they stayed or not.

"I need to be going.  The Empress is anticipating his immediate return."

"Very well, then.  You will be escorted to the front.  I have enjoyed doing business with you."  The Elected's attention span was spent.  No more time would be wasted on these individuals.  He had more pressing matters waiting for him in his chambers.

Sethya tucked the little green blob under his arm and headed for the front door.  The sooner he got out of here, the better.  He moved three steps when a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his right side.  Instinctively, he dropped the Hynerion and grabbed his side, barely hearing the harsh thunk of Rygel hitting the floor.

His large eyes narrowed into slits and he pointed a short, stubby finger at Sethya.  "Don't you ever do that again!"  He turned to Netrijon, his tiny framed exuding a regality that dwarfed the pomp of the president, making him appear mere upstart.  "I came to this compound with a thronesled.  I demand its immediate return."

"It will be in your wagon when you arrive."

Rygel bowed his head slightly.  "That will do."  He turned and marched past Sethya, his ragged robes trailing on the floor behind him.  "Now we can go."  He held his head high and proud as he left the Business Den and waddled through the corridors.

-----------------------------------------

[Auna]

CHAPTER THREE

Laighn followed the escort through the halls, watching every turn and corner, seeking every side route possible.  He loved this house with all its potential.  The size alone was inspiring, but the sheer quantity of useless junk was calling out to the thief inside him.  So much could be procured without anybody realizing it.

He pushed those desires to the side, trying to concentrate on the true mission.  He hoped Rygel would appreciate this.  He was surprised how easy it had been so far.  All those years of studying his mother and her habits had finally paid off, and now he was being lead to the Elected's chambers.

Until now, his mother's training had served him, but it was almost time to change tactics and switch to his father's teachings.  He couldn't wait.

-----------------------------------------

When he entered the room, the first thing to assault Laighn's eyes was the color, then the bed.  It was awful.  All of it.  The three walls of the room were yellow.  It wasn't just a pretty, sunnyish kind of yellow, no.  It was an awful, dark, haven't-drank-enough-water-so-my-urine-is-concentrated kind of yellow.  The fourth wall was floor to ceiling mirror, exuding the illusion of a bigger room than it really was.  The thick, plush carpet was black... with urine yellow hearts.  Hearts.  Laighn shuddered, and this time it was involuntary.

The bed, which sat in the center of the room, was massive.  It was also ugly.  Four tall, black poles stood at each corner, holding a vomit green canopy veil.  The bedspread matched the veil and everything was trimmed in gold colored cording.  Gold ropes with silly long tassels were tied around the black poles, holding the veils back to expose the bedspread and yellow pillows.

Laighn didn't move for 60 full microts before he could force his eyes to shift away from the awful sight.  The yellow walls were bare of any adornments, with the exception of the far wall, opposite the door, which boasted a giant set of black drapes laced with tassled gold ropes.

He stood just inside the door, nervous at the thought of being forced to endure any more awful color schemes, but finally he shuffled his way across the floor, the chains of the restraints rattling with each step.  Crossing the room, he pulled back one side of the drapes to find three very tall, very narrow, very thick windows.  No escaping from there.

Too bad.  The jump might not be quite so bad from this height.

Netrijon seemed to be taking his time joining him, and Laighn was getting bored.  Looking around, his gaze rested on the giant mirror and he began to study his profile.  Was he losing weight?  He couldn't afford to be any smaller.  A large warrior was more intimidating.

He turned sideways and pulled back his shoulders, standing as tall as his light frame would let him, pushing out his stomach.  Scrunching his mouth, he tried to make the same scowl he'd seen on his father in battle.  It didn't work as well as it did on the Luxan.
He tried a different scowl; one more suited his facial features.  That was a little better.

Now all he needed was the growl.  That, he already had down.  Dad had spent arns working with him on that when he was small.  The Luxan had thought it was funny, but Laighn had continued to practice on his own.  He let out one low growl from his chest, just to assure himself he could still do it.

His gray lips changed from the scowl to a half grin, cocky and assured.  He still had it.

Bored with his game, he shuffled over to the giant bed, looking for somewhere to sit.  The mattress was too tall for him to climb onto with his restraints still on, so he reached down and quickly removed the ankle chains... the ones that the guards had meticulously locked before shoving him in here and slamming the door.  Really, they needed to make these locks harder to slip.

Climbing onto the green bedspread, Laighn took the time to reapply his restraints before stretching out comfortably.  He laid his head back on one of the voluminous pillows, eyes closed, as he put his hands behind his head.  This was ugly, but it was comfortable.

His eyes opened and he found he was staring at himself. The freak not only had a mirror covering one entire wall, but one topped the canopy as well.  The bastard really like watching his prey from all angles, didn't he?

Laighn closed his eyes again and began visualizing the various methods he could use to overpower the pervert.  It shouldn't be too hard.  A man that lived the soft and pampered lifestyle Netrijon did couldn't be all that physically challenging to defeat.  Laighn gently felt through his hair and located the stinger.  If all else failed, that would bring the man down in three microts.

Satisfied he was as ready as he was going to get, he let his mind begin to drift to more pleasant subjects, like that Interon woman he'd run into on Vallish III.  Slowly, his mind and body relaxed, slipping into slumber without him realizing what was happening.  The softness of the bed, the warmth of the room, the long day he'd endured all combined together to lull him to sleep, dreaming of red hair and orange lips.

The sound of the locks on the door turning pulled him from his dreams at the most inopportune moment.  Physically frustrated at the interruption, surprised he'd fallen asleep, and still groggy, he forced himself to sit up and move to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side.

Maybe Netrijon would see the effects his dreams were having and think it was for him. He sure wouldn't be able to fake it. One look at the pompous lout, and it would all be over anyway.

Slowly, the door crept open.  It seemed as if time slowed down and every dench of that door opening felt like a lifetime.  Laighn was suddenly, unaccountably, nervous.  Netrijon was not a small man, and from what he'd seen at the meal, there wasn't a whole lot of extra weight on him.

A maroon sleeve appeared and suddenly, there he was, in all his royal glory, wearing a maroon robe, trimmed with maroon fur on the collar and cuffs.  He wore black boots and his blonde hair was flowing regally down his back.

The door closed immediately behind him, and he stood in front of it for a several microts, just staring at Laighn with hunger in his orange eyes.  The boy shuddered and was appalled that he had no control over his reaction.

This was a powerful man.  Abhorrent tastes notwithstanding, he'd risen to his leadership somehow, and Laighn knew it wasn't by popular vote.  He was ruthless.  And maniacal.  And he stood before Laighn with a look on his face that said the boy was about to be dessert.

He smiled with tenderness.  "Hello," he said quietly, almost reverently.

"Hello," Laighn responded meekly, not having to try very hard to stay in character.

The man at the door took several steps in to the room, never looking away from Laighn.  As he moved, it was as if he glided, surprisingly graceful.  "You don't have to be afraid of me, little one."

"I'll... try to please you," Laighn purposely stammered.  Just keep coming closer and this will be over in a microt.

"Oh child, I promise you, you will."

Bastard.  Laighn dropped his gaze to the floor and Netrijon glided even closer.  "I... I could do a better job of pleasing you with these chains removed."  With his head still bowed, he held his hands out in the man's direction to illustrate his point.

He merely giggled at a private joke that Laighn had not been told... yet.  "No, little one, you couldn't.  But I promise not to permanently damage you."

All right, they were going to have to do this the hard way.

Netrijon moved closer and Laighn calculated the distance through his peripheral vision.  Everything had to be timed perfectly.  Uneasily, he put his hand to his hair, brushing it back in a nervous gesture.  Two more swipes and the stinger would be released from its hold on the side of his head and safely hidden in the palm of his hand.

One swipe, Netrijon stepped closer.  "What is wrong, child?" the man questioned and Laighn's hand instantly dropped into his lap.  "Do I scare you?"  He nodded quickly, and a satisfied sigh escaped the Elected.  "Good."

A sharp, stabbing pain seared through his jaw from underneath, shooting upward as if a long needle were being thrust through his throat from the outside.  He tried to scream, but not enough air would fill his lungs to create the noise.  He barely had enough to sustain life functions.

He lifted his eyes to see Netrijon standing before him holding a thin rod that lightly dripped a thick, pinkish liquid.  His blood.  That bastard!  This was going to end NOW!  He lunged forward... he lunged forward... nothing happened.

His arms wouldn't move.  His legs were stones, immobile.  He could feel everything, including Netrijon sliding one hand slowly up his right arm as the other rested on his knee.  But he couldn't move.

How the frell was he supposed to overpower him with his entire body immobile?

"Don't worry," Netrijon whispered softly into his ear, caressing his cheek with the back of his knuckles.  "It won't last long.  But I do need your cooperation long enough for me to... rearrange things."

Things?  What kind of rearranging was supposed to happen?  It didn't take long to find out.  Slowly, the Elected pulled a key from an inner pocket in the robe and held it before Laighn's eyes.  Then, with a tender smile, he reached out and released the lock on the arm restraints.

He looked into the boy's eyes, and knelt down.  Reaching out once again, he released the ankle restraints.  Laighn was now free.  And he couldn't do a frelling thing about it. 

Netrijon reached over Laighn's head and pulled two of the gold ropes down to hang from the canopy frame.  He secured one rope to each wrist, both held captive high above his head, a gold tassel hanging daintily near each hand.

He was still sitting on the bed, legs draped over the side, although it was a bit of a stretch.  He wasn't quite sure if his eema was actually touching the mattress. "There, now.  I believe we are all set."  Bastard smiled slowly.  "Guards!" he called through a communication device on his robe.

The door opened and one of the guards entered, carefully staring at the far wall, away from the boy, hands folded behind his back.  "Yes sir."

Without looking away from Laighn, Netrijon threw the chains to the guard, nearly hitting him.  "Take these away; they will no longer be needed."

"Yes sir."  The guard, holding the chains in his arms turned to leave, but was halted by Netrijon's smooth voice echoing through the room.

"And, Jaul, no matter what you hear, I am not to be disturbed; under orders of banishment to the Wyrm fields.  Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."  The door closed with a soft click.

Netrijon moved closer to Laighn, their noses nearly touching, and reached behind the boy's neck to push his fingertips against a nerve.  Instant mobility returned to his limbs and he wiggled his fingers, held high above his head, experimentally.

"Now then," the man whispered, caressing his neck, softly breathing warm air across his face.  "How shall we begin?"

"Like this," Laighn said, slamming his head down as hard as he could.

The loud crack of skulls clashing echoed across the room.  Laighn's head exploded with pain and everything in his vision became blurry.  He was afraid he would lose consciousness and breathed deeply several times to clear the dizziness and get his bearings.

When everything cleared, he found himself staring into the smiling eyes of Netrijon.  "Well, well, little vixen.  Isn't this a pleasant development.  My turn."  His hand shot out and smacked the boy across his face.

Laighn was sure his head was going to fall off his neck.  He wished it would, then maybe the searing pain would go away and take the bright pinpricks of light with it.  He felt warm liquid slowly oozing from his nose, spreading over his lips.  He had to open his mouth to breathe and the blood spread over his tongue.  Breathing out, he sprayed the pink mist into Netrijon's face.

He saw the man flinch, and Laighn seized the opportunity to raise his knee as hard as he could, scoring a direct hit to the mivonks.  Netrijon doubled over in pain and he raised his knee again, connecting with the Elected's nose.

He stumbled backward, landing on his eema on the floor in front of the hybrid.  He looked up and smiled with adoration.  "I see they trained you well.  I'm glad you like it rough."

He stood then, dropping his fluffy maroon robes to the floor, exposing the full glory of his excitement.  His body was covered in tiny bubbles tinted slightly green, matching the bedspread.  Laighn wanted to vomit.  "Come on over here and see how rough I like it," Laighn growled angrily.

That spurred him on.  He rushed forward with a gleeful laugh, charging straight for Laighn.  At the last second, the boy lifted himself on the ropes, kicking out his legs and entrapping Netrijon by the neck.

Anger fueled his strength, and although he knew his legs were pushing against pressure points on either side of the man's neck, he couldn't help but squeeze harder and harder.  Netrijon's face started turning a yellowish color to match the walls and he clawed desperately at Laighn's thighs.  A few of the bumps burst, spurting slimy green ooze intermittently.

His eyes were opened wide and he started to run backward, side to side, trying to pry the boy from around his neck.  Laighn held tight and as the man struggled, he felt his arms being pulled against the ropes.  It seemed as if his whole body was being stretched and for a microt, he had the wild thought that his arms were going to be longer when this over.

Netrijon finally ran around the side of the bed and Laighn was now wrapped around one of the black poles.  Now, not only were his arms and wrists being stretched to disproportionate levels, but his side was being contorted to angles no Nebari or Sebacean was ever meant to accomplish, even ones as limber as his mother.

He was afraid his back was going to break, but he continued to hold on, screaming in the pain.  His captive's eyes continued to bulge and his gasps were watery, until finally, he dropped to the ground as far as Laighn's legs would let him, body limp.  His eyes closed and he appeared to be unconscious.

He held on with his legs for long microts, just to be sure the Elected wasn't faking.  At last, he let go and as his body swung around to the proper side of the bed, he heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.

He wanted to sit and relax for a microt, but he had no idea what time it was or how long it would take him to get out of the castle.  Despite what Sethya had threatened, he knew the man would come searching for him if he took too long and Laighn desperately needed to accomplish his half of the plan on his own.

It was a matter of honor, and honor was everything.

He pulled hard against the ropes and managed to grab hold of the left one with his right hand.  Using all his upper body stretch, he began to climb the rope, hand over hand until he reached the canopy frame of the bed.

His back was to the inside of the bed, his hands holding the frame backwards.  If the mirror wasn't there to act as a ceiling, he'd be able to do chin-up exercises.  Instead, he began swinging his legs higher and higher, until finally, he gave one large push and circled the bar, landing on the mirror.

He heard a slight crack when he landed, so he kneeled and quickly pulled his knife from his boot.  Two microts later he was free of the ropes.  He was elated.  Finally, after 30 arns of being shackled, he could roam free.

After tucking his knife securely back into his boot, he jumped down, missing his footing and falling hard to the floor.  He rolled a few times and finally settled on his stomach.  This was not going well.  If he didn't stop injuring himself, he wouldn't make it out of the room, let alone out of the castle.

He rested for a microt, letting deep breaths rejuvenate him.  He was entirely too close to the urine hearts, but it was the best he could do at the moment.  Breathe in, breathe out, let the pains wash away.

Time to get up.  He placed his hands flat on the floor near his shoulders and started to push up.  Instantly, he was shoved back down by a hard boot in the small of his back, followed by a large, rough hand at the base of his neck, pinning him to the carpet.

A knee replaced the boot and soft lips grazed his ear.  "I definitely got my money's worth with you, boy.  That was the best I've had in a very long time.  Now it's your turn.  I always take care of my boys."

Laighn felt the hardness of Netrijon's groin press into his side at the same time he felt a large, wet, warm tongue dive into his ear.  Great Cholack, this can't be happening.  This is not happening.  Panic surged through him for a moment before he was able to calm himself and think of a rational plan.

The stinger.

Quickly, he reached up and swiped his hair one last time.  The small cylindrical object fell into his palm and he hoped that it was facing the right direction.  It had to be.  Something had to go right tonight.

He reached up over his shoulder and blindly threw his palm against the nearest skin of his attacker he could find, Netrijon's shoulder.  Contact was made and instantly, the man began to shake with minor seizures as the current of energy rippled through his body.  More green bumps burst, shooting green slime onto Laighn's face and clothes.

Three microts later, the Elected slumped over, once again unconscious.  He was also lying on top of Laighn.  At first, the boy tried to crawl out from under his burden, but that only dragged the body with him, so he was forced to roll over.  He didn't have the strength to simply roll, so he began to sway back and forth until his momentum was great enough to slide the body off him.

The microt Netrijon was off, Laighn jumped up, not willing to make the same mistake again by wasting time.  He ran to the bed and pulled a rope free, then went back to Netrijon and tied the man's wrists together tightly.

With great satisfaction, he grabbed the other end of the rope and pulled the unconscious body to the bed as roughly as he could.  Not that it would matter; freak-man would probably just get more excited.  He threw the rope over the canopy frame and slowly hoisted the man up.  Dench by dench the body was elevated, until Netrijon hung by his arms, naked except for his booted feet dangling several denches off the ground.

Laighn wasn't finished yet.  He grabbed another rope and secured it tightly around the President's face, making sure to stuff a knot into his mouth at an angle to leave one of the tassels hanging daintily out.  Lastly, he tied the ankles.

He stepped back and viewed it his creation with immense satisfaction.  It was a beautiful sight indeed.  Too bad he had to cover it.  With reluctance, he artfully draped the veils over the Elected's body, effectively hiding the evidence.  Netrijon's feet were showing slightly, but he figured it would pass a casual inspection.

Now what?  He couldn't go out the front door, the guards would call for back-up and he'd be locked up faster than a star-bursting Leviathan.  He couldn't go out the window; even he wasn't small enough for that.

Sighing, he began to take mental stock of his assets once again.  He had a useless stinger, a boot knife, his belt whip and that clear packet that Sethya had told him not to use unless absolutely necessary, the cloaking device.

What did he say would happen?  Oh yeah, a rash.  Big deal.  He could handle a little itch.  He couldn't handle those windows or those guards outside.  Besides, Sethya wouldn't have given him anything that would have killed him, right?

Eagerly, he pulled the small, clear packet from under his belt and held it before him.  Finding the opening clasp was easy enough and he unfolded a large, clear, square sheet with a hole in the middle of it.  How was this thing supposed to work?  Instructions would have been helpful.

He pulled his head trough the hole and let the fabric drape over his shoulders, chest and back, the points dangling near his knees.  His head was uncovered, as were his shins and feet.  This was supposed to be a cloaking device?  He was still visible!

Angrily, he stomped over to the mirror to see how ridiculous he looked.  All he could see was a slightly distorted image of the room behind him.  He was gone.  He looked at his hands, his body.  Everything was visible to him, but checking once again in the mirror showed that he was not there.

He took a few steps and watched the distortion in the mirror move with him.  Drad!  Now it was time for a little fun.  He unclasped his belt, coiling it ready in his hand, and moved to the door.

He threw it open hard, letting it hit the wall with strong force, nearly bouncing closed again in its momentum.  He caught it with his hand before it could slam shut and slowly opened it wide.

He had the effect he wanted.  The guards were standing across the hallway, staring at the door wide-eyed, unsure of what they should do.  Jaul, obviously the senior officer, stepped forward slightly.

"Uh, sir?"  The room remained silent and he took another tentative step forward.  "Sir? Are you done already?"

He received no reply, so he waved to his subordinate to follow him and he edged closer to the door, nervously peeking inside.  He didn't have a view of Netrijon from the doorway, and all he could see was an empty room.  Concerned, he stepped inside with a wave to his partner to follow.

Carefully, they moved farther inside, and as soon as both of them cleared the doorway, Laighn slammed the door shut.  Both spun around terrified, unable to see their attacker.  Two loud cracks echoed across the room, and both men fell to the floor, unconscious.

He had to waste several long microts tying their hands and feet and gagging their mouths.  The longer he had before the alarm was sounded, the better.  He now had free access to the hallway.  Grabbing a set of keys from the belt of Jaul, he absently scratched his ear and headed for the door.

Once outside, he closed the door quietly behind him and locked it.  It should be a while before the three were discovered, giving him plenty of time to find his way to the roof.  He started down the hallway and soon found himself passing group of citizens and guards.

He was having fun watch them and it was almost a game to see how close he could pass by without getting caught.  His attention was diverted occasionally by the luxurious decorations and, for his mother, he snurched a gold plate with intricate designs lacing the edges.

He tucked it into the waist of his pants and set himself to the task of finding a stairwell.  After several turns, he finally found what he was looking for and ascended the stairs as far as they would take him.

Unfortunately, they didn't lead as high as he needed.  Where would the next set be hidden? Probably clear on the other side of the building. Sighing, he set off down another corridor.  They all looked alike.  The one he was in started circling around on itself, and it was becoming apparent he would have to pick a new avenue of escape soon.  He was lost.

Frustrated, he turned a corner and nearly ran directly into a green skirted soldier.  Sucking in his stomach, he pulled himself as flat against the wall as far he possibly could.  Instead of the soldier passing by, though, he stopped.  He stared.  Directly at Laighn.

Frell.

"Who the hezmana are you?" he asked in an authoritative voice.

"I'm lost.  I'm looking for the stairs to return to my chambers on the tenth floor," Laighn bluffed.

"Guests do not leave their room unescorted."

"Yeah, well, you see, I uh, got hungry, and I... didn't want to disturb the servants and, I, well, thought I'd try to find, you know, the kitchen and..." he stammered, kicking his foot as hard as he could into the soldier's bare knee.  He watched the man fall to the floor in pain while he cursed Sethya for not telling him the effectiveness wore off.

He took off running as hard as could while scratching at a burning itch on his stomach.  One turn, two turns, he was in a long hallway.  Not stopping for air, he continued on.

"Hey, you!" he heard yelled from behind, and multiple sets of boots were pursuing him.

He turned a corner and ducked into an alcove, just a few microts before three soldiers ran past.  He stepped back into the hallway and cracked his whip twice, effectively knocking out two of the soldiers.  The last was too quick and moved away before the tip could contact.

He rushed toward Laighn at an alarming speed, and Laighn did the first thing to cone to his mind, he pulled the plate from it's hiding place in the back of his trousers and threw it hard directly at the soldier's knees.

He fell, but was getting up quickly, so Laighn rushed forward, picking up the plate and pounding the man over the head as hard as he could, putting a dent in the gold in the process.  The soldier fell into a heap and Laighn rushed past him, his mind already turning to the question of escape, his hands instinctively tucking the treasure back in its hiding place in his pants.

He continued through the corridors at a more discreet pace, scratching his arms, chest, face and neck.  Eventually, he ended up in a hall that was lined with mirrors.  He didn't pay attention at first, concentrating on listening for approaching soldiers and looking for potential stairways, but a bright purple flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to face a hideous sight.

Staring back at him in the mirror was a bloated purple image of the man he once was.  He barely recognized his face, contorted by its puffiness, his neck nearly non-existent.  And to make things better, now that he'd seen how bad the "minor" rash was, his itch increased exponentially.  Every dench of skin burned.

He pulled a fuzzy flower with a hard stem from a nearby vase and began scratching his back.  Now he definitely needed to escape, so he could go beat Sethya for doing this to him.

The sound of boot steps in the distance spurned him on and he began his search again.  Luck was with him finally and the third door he tried led to a stairwell.  Anxiously he began the dark climb and it reminded him of another set of stairs on another planet.  Only those had led downward and he'd nearly killed himself falling down them.  Hopefully, this would have a different ending.

He climbed for a long time, the number of steps seemingly endless.  Upward he went, until they finally ended at a small wooden door.  Using the keys he'd taken from Jaul, he tested ten before the lock clicked and the door opened.

Before him was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever witnessed.  He was high on a turret, overlooking the ocean far below.  Walking to the edge he could see for metras, possibly even the island he wanted.  Overhead, flying creatures circled, hunting their breakfast, screeching occasionally to each other in encouragement.

He stood on the edge, a silhouette against the sun slowly rising in the distance.  In its magnificence it was throwing orange, red and purple streaks across the darkened sky.  Below him the waves crashed against the rocks, spitting a wide spray of mist high in the air.  A breeze picked up and rustled the black and blonde spikes of his hair.

He closed his eyes for several microts, letting the cool air caress his face and neck, soothing the burning itch.  His grey lips parted and he breathed in deeply, almost tasting the salt water from ten stories below.  These could very well be his last moments alive.  Behind him were the guards, soon to discover where he'd escaped to.  Before him was the unrelenting ocean, beating against the boulders below.

He might survive.  If he could dive out far enough, he'd miss the rocks.  Supposedly, the ocean floor dropped away steeply several motras out.  This had been the plan the entire time.  Jump out far enough, swim two metras to the rendezvous island.  But looking at the reality before him, the decision suddenly seemed brash.

He'd been so full of himself; he'd committed to this suicide without a microt's thought.  Sethya had tried to warn him, but in his arrogance, he'd supposed he was indestructible.  Now his mortality lay before him.

Hard boot steps sounded on the steps behind him.  They'd found him.  Taking another deep breath, he backed up a few motras and sprinted as hard as he could, raising his arms above his head at the last microt and pushing off the edge at a dead run.

He flew outward from the castle, hearing the shouting of the guards left behind on the turret.  Adrenaline poured through his system, instantly settling his stomach while letting him enjoy the sensation of flying freely through the air.  The rush outweighed any concerns and he felt liberated of all worries.  Letting out a loud victory "WHOOP" of joy, his laughter echoed back up to the stunned guards above.

Silently, gracefully, his outstretched fingers touched the water.  Next his head, then his body, legs, legs, feet all disappeared beneath the surface with very little splash.

The guards watched the boy enter the water directly between an outcropping of three boulders.  They waited several hundred microts for the boy to rise, but the water continued to slosh around their natural barriers, uninhibited by any living creature. 

Worried about having to report, they abandoned their watch to deliver the message that the boy had died.  Netrijon wasn't going to like this.

--------------------------------------

Sethya sat on a boulder, head held in his hands, gritting his teeth.  If Laighn didn't show up soon, his Hynerion Uncle Rygel was going to die.  He'd be merciful; he'd make it quick and painless.  But the incessant grumbling was grating on his very last nerve.

"This was the most frelled up plan I've ever had the misfortune of being apart of.  And I've been part of the worst plans ever conceived.  What were you thinking, leaving him in that castle alone?  And you didn't even bring anything to eat with you!  I haven't had a decent meal in..."

The tirade continued on, but Sethya shut out the sound of the pompous voice and looked at the island around him, trying to divert his attention.  It was difficult, there wasn't much to see, and they'd already been waiting for a couple of arns.

Laighn's small reconnaissance ship, bought specifically for this mission, covered nearly a third of the rocky island's land mass.  The animals that normally sunbathed on the sunny beach had squealed their displeasure at being displaced, but relocated without incident.  There was no vegetation, no trees, not even a shrub growing on the small islet.

There were just blubbery animals, rocks, and this frelling Hynerion.  Sethya suddenly received a detailed vision of tossing that hovering thronesled far out into the ocean.  In his mind, he saw it flying through the air and landing with a loud splash many motras out.

"What are you grinning about?  I see nothing humorous about this situation.  I've just been freed and I'm forced to wait here in the middle of a wasteland, because you felt it was all right to send a boy into an impossible situation..."

Sethya had had enough.  In a split microt, he had the Hynerion pinned by his earbrows, a knife to his throat.  Slowly, concisely, he issued an edict.  "Shut the frell up."

The little green man, completely unfazed, simply stared back at him.  His eyes narrowed and his answer was quiet.  "Better men than you have done far worse.  You don't scare me, boy.  You don't intimidate me.  If you're going to do something, hurry up and do it, and by the yotz, quit wasting my time."

Sethya stared at him for a long moment before dropping him to the ground.  This was now over.  He'd waited long enough; he'd given the boy a chance to get out on his own.  Now he was taking matters into his own hands.  The slug was right.  Too much time was wasting.

"Are you coming, or are you going to stay here and play with the Redarding Fish?" he hollered over his shoulder as a hurried up the ramp of his ship.

Rygel was right behind him and it only took a few moments to start the ship and take off.  Sethya had no idea what he was going to do, but inaction was not an option.  He flew low, purposely deviating to the other small islands, in case Laighn had not been able to swim as far as he'd thought.

He was in dangerous air space now, the closer he drew to the castle, the more the chances of them being spotted by the compound's defense system.  That was why they'd chosen the island they had.  But like every other plan, it hadn't worked.

Just when he thought they were going to end up landing on one of the turrets, Rygel poked him in the back.  "There, over there."  His short finger was pointing to a single boulder rising out of the ocean.

On it was a purple and red bloated boy, jumping and waving madly.  Laighn?  The figure stopped to scratch his chest and stomach.  Laighn.  The boy had used the cloak.  As Sethya kept the ship hovering over the boulder, Rygel opened a side hatch and threw a cable down to the boy.

As soon as Laighn had both hands and feet securely twisted around the cable, Sethya took off, Laighn towed beneath.  The kid took a long time crawling up the rope and Sethya was getting impatient.  The sooner they broke atmosphere and docked with Shadow, the sooner they could go get Tean.  Time was running out.

Finally, Laighn's hands grasped the floor and the bloated figure pulled himself inside, breathing heavily as he lay helpless, exerting only enough energy to scratch.  Rygel slammed the door closed and turned on the boy.

"What the frell happened to you?  You look like a Wyfag berry.  And what the hezmana did you think you were doing? "

"Saving your eema.  You're welcome," the boy managed to say as he lifted himself on to his elbows.

"I don't need you to save my eema.  Where are your parents?"

"I don't know."

"So you did it, you left.  You always were headstrong and foolish.  You're going to get yourself killed, boy.  Go home to your mother.  Not that she'll be much help.  Trouble is her middle name."

"You left."

Sethya, trying not to get involved in a family argument, sat quietly at the controls.  The argument continued on and he tuned them out until they finally reached Shadow and docked.

All of them exited the smaller ship and before they could leave the small landing bay, Rygel turned on his negotiating charm.  "Thank you for your assistance.  If you drop us off at the nearest commerce planet..."

"The boy stays with me."

"Why would you want him?  He'll be useless to you."

"He has a debt to work off.  But you can use his transport to go where you need.  The nearest system is only a few arns away."

Rygel turned to Laighn.  "Is this what you want?"

"Yes, it's a matter of honor," the boy answered quietly.

"Honor.  You sound like your father."

Laighn's chubby face broke into a smile and his eyes fell.  "See you around the universe."

"You too, boy."  With the dignity of all his royal breeding, he stepped back onto the vessel and piloted it out of the hanger.

Laighn watched the ship depart with a sad, longing smile on his face as he scratched his stomach.

"Let's go," Sethya said, interrupting the boy's reverie.  "We've got to get Tean.  We're running late."  He hit the boy on the arm and smiled when he howled in pain.

"You said a rash!" Laighn hollered, his thoughts diverted, as Sethya had intended.  "You never said anything about a frelling plague!"

----------------------------------------

Tean sat in the Pilot's seat, monitoring the controls.  They had roughly one solar day until the rendezvous time with Gweer on the command carrier, and his nerves were starting to fray.  He still wasn't fully recovered from the fiasco with Klune's men, and his mind kept going back to the fact that he hadn't been on a Peacekeeper ship in over two cycles.  He was nervous, excited, homesick, and torn in two.  He never regretted his decision to rescue Sethya from execution, but he missed his lifestyle onboard.

The monitor started to beep, and he leaned forward to get a better look at the object the sensors had picked up. A Leviathan.  "Seth, get up here!"

"What now?  I'm trying to sleep."

"Fine, I'll contact the Leviathan that just came within range on my own.  Sleep well."  He began to count to himself.  "Four, three two, one..."

"How long has she been there?" Sethya asked from directly behind Tean's head.

"About fifteen microts.  Want to read the logs?" he asked sarcastically, and got thumped on the back of the head for it.

Sethya reached past his shoulder and punched the transmit button on the control panel.  "This is Sethya Miskaahl of the cargo ship Shadow.  We are searching for the Leviathan ship Moya.  I am willing to pay for any information as to her location, or any information on the status of her crew."  He let go of the transmitter, carefully placing his hand flat on the console, still bent over Tean's shoulder.  His head hung low, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow.

They were greeted with silence.  Five microts passed.  Ten.  The speaker remained impassive.  Slowly, deliberate in his movements, his hand stretched out to the transmitter again.  "This is Sethya Miskaahl of the cargo ship Shadow, hailing the approaching Leviathan.  We are not armed and are merely seeking information.  I will pay for any information you might have on the Leviathan Moya or her crew."

"It's about time you bastards came home," a familiar drawl broke over the speakers.  "Hurry up and get your asses on board.  And welcome back."

[Auna]

CHAPTER FOUR

Footsteps sounded behind them and Laighn's young voice broke through their shocked silence.  "What the hezmana is going on?" he asked angrily.  "I thought we were headed for a command carrier, not a frelling Leviathan!"

"We're taking a short detour, Laighn.  Don't worry, you'll like these people," Tean assured without turning around to look at the boy.  The swelling had disappeared, but the rash still plagued his usually pink skin in angry purple splotches, and Tean tried not to look at him unless it was absolutely necessary.  Childish, but he always felt like scratching after seeing him.

"You know them?" Laighn asked with incredulity.

"You could say that," he responded wryly.

"I'm not getting off.  I'm staying on Shadow," he declared defiantly.

"No," Sethya spoke for the first time.  His voice was quiet, deadly calm.  "You won't.  You will get off and meet these people and you will be nice.  The last thing I need is for them to think I'm harboring someone."

Laighn's face twisted in anger, but he must have recognized the absolute determination in Sethya's expression.  He banged a fist against a wall and stormed away, throwing an angry "Tell me we dock" over his shoulder as he left.

Tean and Sethya's eyes met.  "That's a bit of an overreaction on his part.  You'd think he had your death-wish, wanting to get to carrier so badly."

"Forget him for a second.  What do we tell Crichton?"

"That you love her," Tean retorted and was smacked on the side of his head for his trouble.

"Her father, you frellnick.  We have to leave again, almost immediately, to rendezvous with Gweer.  They are going to expect us to stay."

"Why not tell them the truth?"

"Can you honestly picture Crichton and D'Argo, or even Aeryn for that matter, staying behind if we tell them that Scorpius might have a retrieval squad after them?"

"So what would be wrong with that?  We could use the help.  Lo'La has some serious firepower."

"Except John's not as young as he used to be.  And he has two kids now.  And the report might not even deal with them at all.  We could be doing this for nothing."

"They've got to be told eventually."

"After the infiltration... if it turns out the Scarran hybrid is looking for them."

"Fine, we'll wait.  But since I'm the one who has to make our excuses for leaving, what is your bright idea."

"That's what I asked you.  Think of something.  You're supposed to be the genius."

"Remember that."  He was surprised when he didn't get hit upside the head again.  Sethya must be really nervous.  "Don't worry."

"I'm not worried."

"I can tell.  And your vein isn't popping out of the side of your neck either."

Sethya merely shot him a warning look and stormed away.  Tean sighed and turned back to the view of Moya getting nearer and nearer.  It just figured that they would finally find her again when they couldn't stay.

He waited until he felt the tug of Moya's docking web take control, then left their small command to join Sethya at the exit ramp.  This was a moment he wouldn't miss for all the money of High Command.

-----------------------------------

He was twitchy.  His whole body felt like it was suffering from a nervous tick, and he would bet his left eye looked like it was having a seizure.  This was frelling ridiculous.  He was an adult, a commando, a ruthless mercenary, and here he was getting twitchy... over a woman.

What would he see when the door finally opened?  It already seemed like an arn since they'd heard Crichton's voice over the transmitter.  Tean stood beside him at the opening, surprisingly quiet for the moment.

He felt the ship's speed slow, and then the familiar sensation of a quick drop as it landed.  They were in Moya's docking bay.  The door slowly descended and he could see the ceiling, the walls, and then finally the whole area, with a welcoming committee.

Almost everyone was there.  To the right, D'Argo stood tall, arms crossed, Qualta Blade slung over his shoulders.  Chiana stood next to him, knees slightly bent, head slightly tilted to one side, a seductive smile gracing her dark gray lips.

Crichton was to the left, an indiscernible look on his face.  Sethya couldn't tell if they were welcome or not.  The older man's grey hair was its usual mess and he stood firm with his feet planted slightly apart, arms crossed over his chest.

Aeryn was beside him; her black and grey hair pulled loosely back at the nape of her neck.  Her stance was much more relaxed, more accepting, despite the pulse rifle slung over her shoulders, hanging down her back by a strap.  Her thumbs were hooked into pockets at her hips and a small smile graced her lips.  Dignity was the first word that came to mind.

Pregnant was the second word.  It wasn't blatantly obvious, but a small stomach was beginning to show, despite the T-shirt she must have stolen from her husband, and Sethya was pretty sure that the ex-commando wouldn't tolerate any foolishness like a big stomach, unless it involved something as drastic as procreation.

Aeric stood between the two couples, holding a flat metal object with wheels under one arm.  His smile nearly covered his entire face and he was shifting from one foot to the other, impatiently.  At least one person was glad to see them.  Well, glad to see Tean, anyway.

Brennik wasn't there.  Neither was the old woman, Noranti, but he wasn't concerned about her at this moment.  He scanned the room to make sure she wasn't hiding in the back, as she had been the very first time they'd entered Moya, but found nothing.  She wasn't there.

Technically, she was old enough to go out on her own.  Maybe she wasn't even living on Moya anymore.  Maybe she'd gotten tired of waiting for him, and set off on her own.  The thought sent cold chills through his veins.  No, Crichton wouldn't let her do something so stupid, surely.

All of this was observed in about three microts before Tean pushed past him and bounded down the ramp jovially to be engulfed in a hug by Chiana and patted on the back by Aeric and D'Argo.  With Aeryn right behind him, Crichton moved forward and held out his hand, the indiscernible look still on his face.

Sethya was confused for a microt, until he remembered a time he saw D'Argo and Crichton shake hands in greeting.  Grateful for the least amount of courtesy, he grabbed the outstretched hand.

"I have a new crewmember with me.  He is hiding on Shadow right now.  Laighn, we've docked," he called over his shoulder, and a few microts later, dragging footsteps could be heard pounding on the metal floor.

Laighn stood in the doorway, eyes rolled upward, arms crossed, his body slack with petulant attitude.  Sethya only had a microt to wonder what the boy's problem was, and get angry over the show of disrespect, when a loud shriek blasted his ears.

Chiana rushed past him on the ramp, nearly pushing him over the side in her haste.  Her speed didn't slow and she ran into Laighn at full force, laughing and crying as she flung her arms around his neck.  "You're back!  You're back!" she kept repeating.

Laighn wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, eyes closed, reluctantly smiling despite himself.  "Mother..." he tried but was interrupted by D'Argo, who had now joined them on the ramp and began thumping him on the back.

"Shedya, you came back!  I knew you would!" he exclaimed and waited until Chiana let loose a microt before taking his turn to hug the boy.

"Father..." Laighn tried again but was cut off by D'Argo and Chiana dragging him down the ramp, to the amazed crowd waiting below.

"John, Aeryn, Aeric, this is my son, Shedya." D'Argo declared to his speechless crewmates.  He turned to Sethya and Tean, who were now standing to the side, just as bewildered as everyone else in the room.  "Thank you for bringing him back.  Tonight, we will feast!  Our proctical sons have returned!"

"Prodigal, D.  It's 'our prodigal sons'..." John corrected.

"Whatever, they're back."

"We're leaving," Laighn stated flatly.

"No you're not, you just got here," Chiana argued.  "You can't just show up and then leave again."  Her arm was still around Laighn's waist; as if she needed the contact to prove to herself he was really there.

"We've been looking for you for a little over a monen, but have just received a commission that must begin in the next twenty eight arns, or several people may lose their lives.  Your son is part of that commission," Tean spoke to the crowd.

"So you're leaving again," Crichton stated, pointedly staring at Sethya.  He was making a statement and Sethya understood the unspoken implication.

"We want to come back, if you'll let us.  If it weren't for the nature of the commission, I would drop it and stay.  But I can't," Sethya said directly to the older man.

D'Argo and Chiana were pulling Laighn from the room, arguing with him as they left.  Sethya figured it was just his luck to end up with a son of the Moya crew.  Now he felt even more responsible for the boy, knowing who his parents were.  A lot of things were beginning to make sense about the kid now, though.

"How long are you staying?" Aeryn asked.

"We have five arns until we absolutely have to leave," Tean answered.

"Good, so you have time for a visit.  I'm going to go get started on that feast D'Argo was talking about; it looks like Chiana is preoccupied.  Aeric, why don't you come help me?"

"Aw Mom, I wanted to show Tean my skateboard."

"You'll have plenty of time for that later."

"But..."

"Do what your mother says," Crichton commanded.  "She needs the help."

"So why can't YOU help her?  You..."

"Because I told you to do it.  Now get moving.  We'll talk about this later, when I'm done with Sethya."

Grumbling, Aeric turned and followed his mother from the room.  Tean had already disappeared, and Sethya took a mental note to call him a coward sometime before they reached the command carrier.

The older man watched his son leave, then turned to Sethya and searched his face intently, quietly for several microts.  "At the risk of sounding like a million fathers before me, what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"When I come back from this assignment, I hope to stay here for a while, if you'll let me.  When it's time to leave, I want to take her with me."

There was a moment of silence as John studied him further, arms crossed, his back leaning against a nearby crate.  What was he thinking?  What did he see when he looked at the ex-commando?

He must have finally come to a decision, because when he spoke, he had a slight smile on his face, and his words were slightly humorous.  "I've been instructed to tell you to go frell a Vork, and that she's no longer here."

"But what are you really going to tell me?"  Sethya was taking a shot here, hoping that John could understand his desperate need to see Brennik one more time, hoping the older man could feel a touch of mercy and forgiveness.

"I'm the one who had to pick up the pieces.  I'm the one who had to pull her off the floor when she collapsed and listen to her sobs as she soaked my shirt with her tears.  You hurt her, man.  You tore my daughter's heart out, and now you're asking for my help."

"Have you ever done something so stupid that you'll regret it for the rest of your life?  Have you ever hurt someone you love in an attempt to do the right thing?"  He looked Crichton in the eyes and saw a deep pain there.  Regret.  Neither looked away and the silence grew heavy.

"Training bay two," John finally said softly.  Sethya didn't wait to hear if the man was finished.  He was out the door in less than a microt.

----------------------------------------

Laighn leaned against the familiar wall, his arms folded defiantly as he stared at the ceiling, the walls, the furniture... anything to avoid looking at his mother, a nervous ball of energy in front of him, ranting in her anger and disappointment.

"You, you just got back, Shedya.  You can't go out again.  Give it a few solar days, relax, get rid of this rash that you've gotten."

"I can't mother.  The timeline is critical."  He wasn't sure if it was or not, he hadn't been included in much of the details of the plan.  But the attitude of his crewmen had implied a tricky situation.

"He can't," D'Argo agreed from across the room.  "He cannot abandon an ally in battle."  The Luxan stood still, arms folded across his massive chest, Laighn's anchor of calm in the storm of his mother.  His father was usually calm, somehow having mostly conquered his Luxan hyper rage.

Laighn had asked one time how he'd accomplished the difficult feat, but his father merely smiled sadly and said it was a tale for much, much later.  He had the impression the time would never be right.

"Exactly!" he declared, grateful that somebody was on his side.  "I owe them.  We made a deal; they help break Rygel out of the Jivihsten Mines, and I help them on this last commission.  You see... I have to do this, mother.  It's a matter of honor."

"You're not IN battle yet!" Chiana cried.  "Honor, honor!  I'm tired of hearing about frelling honor!  Honor won't keep you alive," she cried, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation.  "I don't like this.  You belong here, with your family.  John is back, Aeryn is alive! You should know them..."

"Mother, you were younger than me when you left to go on your own," he started, only to be interrupted by his Father.

"Chiana," D'Argo spoke calmly, soothing her with his deep voice.  "We have already had this argument with him six monens ago.  I want him to stay too, but he's not going to.  Are you."

Laighn's chest constricted at the look of painful determination on his father's face.  He hated doing this to him, but there was no other way he'd be free.  He HAD to go on his own.  How else could he ever prove himself?

"Do you want to spend the few arns we have fighting him?"

"I promised Mia I would keep you safe."  The statement was spoken quietly, with anguish.  Chiana sat on a stool, defeated.

Laighn, feeling lower than the bacteria the dentics ate, went to her and gently placed his arms around her shoulders.  He was hugging two women at this moment.  He hated it when Chiana played the Mia card.  He knew all about his heritage, and he had the added "luxury" of having two mothers and two fathers, thanks to Chiana's shared memories with Mia.

"Let me tell you about my adventure so far," he whispered.  "I think you'd be proud."

"Did you kick eema?" she asked on a sniffle.

"Oh yeah, I kicked lots of eema."

D'Argo slapped his shoulder and pulled up two more stools.  It seemed he was determined that, for a few arns at least, they would have a peaceful visit.

"I have a present too," Laighn said, pulling a dented gold plate from the back of his waistband with a sly smile.

---------------------------------------

It was strange how much Tean felt at home.  He'd been on Shadow for two cycles, and only on Moya for a few monens.  But coming back had felt like finding a piece of himself again.  He couldn't figure out why; he didn't have any strong connections here, like Sethya did.  He liked the crew well enough.  Who couldn't like the eclectic mixture of personalities and the way they blended together?  But he wasn't part of them.  Still, the monens he'd spent here had haunted him, urging him to return.

All this he contemplated as he strolled through Moya's corridors to what had been his temporary quarters during their last stay.  He couldn't figure out what compulsion was leading him there, but he wanted to lie on the bed, taste the atmosphere, smell the air.  He didn't have much time now, but once this reconnaissance trip was over, he planned on reclaiming his space.  They would have plenty of time when they returned for him to recover from his injuries and Sethya's recent slave driving attitude.

His mind was so captured by his inner conundrum that he missed the shadow, ahead in the hall, slide across his path and lurk behind one of Moya's ribs.  He didn't hear the soft intake of breath as he neared the small figure, and he didn't feel the cloud of white powder hit his face.  The smell and the suffocating sting in his lungs were what finally alerted him that something was wrong.

Dizziness overtook all his senses and he felt himself stumbling sideways until his backside landed roughly against one of Moya's walls.  Frell!  The old witch must have ambushed him in the hallway.  They'd been warned about her.  What had she poisoned him with?

He felt surreal, as if he were in two places at once.  He knew reality was on board Moya, in the hall with the three-eyed old hag standing next to him, whispering unintelligible nonsense in his ear.  He knew it, but that seemed like it was the dream, and reality was what was staring him in the face.

"See the truth," the old woman whispered, her third eye wide open and glowing deep red.  He put his fists to his eyes, trying desperately to clear his vision and to stop the stinging.  It was useless.

He was in a room.  It was small and cramped and dirty, roughened mortar covering the cold floors and walls.  There was one door, heavy and secured by massive locks.  There was no window to the outside, no blankets or carpets; there was nothing that would provide any amount of warmth or comfort.

And he was not alone in his misery.  In one corner of the room huddled the small, lithe figure of Laighn.  His head propped against Sethya's leg.  They both looked on the edge of death.  Laighn was not his usual pink color, rather a shade that made him look fully Nebari.  His hair was matted and grubby, his clothes voluminous with his weight loss.  He shuddered slightly, and Sethya reached out and patted his shoulder.

Sethya looked just as bad.  His face was shiny and pale brown from the accumulation of dirt from the floors and walls.  His hair was just as matted as Laighn's and he coughed violently.  The boy's head, which was propped against Sethya's leg, shook with each wrenching hack.

"No!"  Tean shouted; his arms outstretched in both realities, reaching for his brother and the boy.

"See the truth," Noranti whispered, sending small warm puffs of air over his ear.  "See what will happen if you follow your course."

Laighn began gasping for air, his breathing labored.  "Guard!" Sethya shouted roughly, his throat dry and scratchy.  The volume barely reached Tean's ears; there was no way any person on the other side of the door heard.

"Guard!" Tean echoed his brother, his voice barely more audible than Sethya's.  It must have been sufficient, though.  A red and black clad Sebacean soldier entered the cell and stood just inside the entrance, arms clasped behind his back.

"What is the problem now?"

"The boy needs medical attention," Sethya rasped.

"His health is not my concern," the guard responded disdainfully.

"Your boss isn't done with us yet," Tean answered in a voice as raw as his brother's.  "What do you think will happen if you let one of us die?  Who will be at fault?  How understanding do you think he will be?"

Inconvenienced, the guard waved behind him and two faceless soldiers appeared, pulse rifles held ready.  "Get the boy to med bay two.  Tell them to do what it takes to keep him alive, nothing else."

The grunts saluted crisply and hung their rifles over their shoulders with straps before stepping over to Laighn.  Roughly, one grabbed the boy by the shoulders, the other grabbed his knees and together they lifted.

"NO!" Laighn shouted with all the reserved strength within him.  "Not again!  Let me go!"  He struggled and the soldier supporting his shoulders lost his grip.  Laighn crashed to the floor, the crack of his head hitting the ground echoing throughout the small room.

He was now unconscious.  Without further incident, the guard picked him up once more and the two carried him from the room.

Was Laighn dead?  Where were they?  How did they get there?  Tean's mind was jumping from one question to the next, his dizziness overwhelming as he slid against Moya's wall to the floor, huddled with his head between his knees, covered by his arms.  Gently he rocked back and forth, soothing away the panic the old witch had instilled.

He was alone now, no trace of Noranti in the hall to witness his grief, his terror at what she was insinuating would happen.  It wasn't true, it couldn't be.  He was hallucinating, a by-product of that old woman's insanity and drugs.

He'd get up and finish his journey to his old quarters as soon as the chill left.

[Auna]

Sethya stood silently in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the frame, watching her hit the exercise bag ferociously.  She'd changed the last several monens.  She was thinner, leaner, but stronger.  Her black hair was pulled back and bounced behind her with every jab and kick.  Sweat glistened across her working muscles, a few drops trickling down the side of her face.  She wore workout pants and a long lost tunic he'd given up ever recovering.

She was beautiful, and he was astounded and annoyed at his violent reaction to seeing her again.  He wanted to pull her into his arms, touch her, feel her to make sure she was really here and he wasn't having another lousy dream.  He knew it couldn't be a dream, though.  He'd done that a thousand times, and in all of them she ran into his arms, grateful he'd returned.  He should have known better.

He was being ignored.

He knew she'd be angry, and had anticipated this reaction, even if it was disappointing.  It was one thing to dream a happy reunion.  He was a realist.  Stepping into the room, he stood behind the bag she was attacking, holding it still for her, and he thought her punches became just a little more rough.

"You've gotten better," he observed blandly.  He was lousy at small talk, but he had to get her to acknowledge him.  Even if she started yelling, it would be her voice washing over him.

She didn't say anything, didn't look at him, merely stopped punching the bag and relocated to the sparring mat.  She stood at one end, staring at the air in front of her, waiting.

Seth watched her for a microt, realizing she was challenging him.  Sighing, he kicked off his boots, stripped his jacket and removed any potentially damaging hardware he was wearing.  After placing everything on a neat pile, he joined her on the mat.  He was willing to let her hit him a few times, if this was what she needed to work out her anger.

She assumed a defensive position, signaling her readiness for the fight.  He simply stood before her, leaving himself wide open to any attack she might choose to make.  "Defend yourself!" she ordered with a hard voice.

"No," was his simple response.

Angry and frustrated, she stomped to him, shoving his chest with all her strength.  He stumbled backward, but maintained his balance.  "Defend yourself!" she ordered again.

"Or what, you'll push me?  Oh no.  Not that.  It's the dreaded shove."  Before he could finish his sarcastic comment, she'd twisted in front of him, grabbing his arm and lowering herself to one knee, using the momentum of his weight to carry him over her left shoulder.  She had very effectively flipped him.

She stomped her foot childishly, fists at her sides, fire blazing in her eyes.  "You left me!" she yelled at him.  "You gave me hope, you made me think you actually cared, and then you left!"

"I do care," he said from the floor beside her feet.

"LIAR!" she yelled, which was the wrong thing to say.

Sethya's hand snapped out, grabbing her ankle and yanking, pulling her to the floor.  She tried to scramble away, but Seth was too quick and too strong for her, and quickly had her pinned beneath him on the floor, her wrists held above her head by one of his hands. 

She was trapped, and he made sure she looked him in the eye before stating very slowly, "Listen Princess, I have never lied to you... about anything.  I may have omitted on occasion, but never lied.  I know what I feel.  That is why I left.  For once I was trying to..." he stopped, resignation written across his features.  He breathed out heavily, dropping his head before rolling off her.

He crawled to Moya's nearby wall and leaned back, his knees bent with his elbows resting on them, his head held in his hands.  "I was trying to protect you from me."

"You will never physically hurt me," she said with certainty.  He noted her clarification and winced.  She crawled next to him and mimicked his position.  Unlike him, he could tell she drew strength from the contact with Moya.

"Everyone I have ever loved has died because of my actions."

"Tean," she reminded him.

He chose to ignore her.  He'd finally gotten the nerve to talk, and he wasn't going to let himself get diverted.  If he stopped now, he might never get the chance again.  "You know I was conscripted when I was ten."  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and saw her nod.  "The morning the recruiters came, I panicked.  I didn't want to go, so I took Tean and hid us by a nearby stream in our secret place.  I thought if they couldn't find me, they'd go away and we could stay home.

"They thought my parents were lying when they said they didn't know where we were, so they shot them and then came looking for us."  He heard her sharp intake of breath, but continued on, trying to cover the pain of the memory with bald facts.  "My spot wasn't as secret as I'd thought.  It only took them 300 microts to find us.  Three arns later we were on a command carrier, assigned to our regiments."

He felt her fingers brush his arm, and he grasped her hand between his, pulling it to his stomach and holding it there.  It was a small comfort, and he would take anything she would give him right now.  The next part of his story only got worse, and reliving it... telling it, admitting his guilt and failure was torture.  Staring straight ahead, he swallowed and continued.

"Skip ahead 13 cycles.  I am now assigned to the best Maurader crew in the fleet, led by the greatest captain to ever make rank.  He taught me how to be a soldier, be the best.  I was trained to fight and to kill without remorse, and I became very, very good at my job.  You've seen how good.  Degjorba was a genius, a deity when it came to leading and inspiring his team.  He continually took us into impossible situations and led us back out again.  We never lost a member.

"He only had one weakness.  He had a fetish for very young, unwilling cadets.  In fact, the more they fought, the greater time he had.  No one knew this, though, because the cadets were always too scared or intimidated to say anything.  Until one night a beautiful, blonde, fourteen-cycle-old came to me beaten, crying."

He had to stop for a moment.  He was no longer sitting on the floor of Moya, but in his quarters, holding a young woman in his arms as she sobbed, broken in spirit.  "She wouldn't tell me who, I think she knew then what I would have done.  So I convinced her to file a report.  I promised her I would use every connection I had, that I would take care of everything.

"The report mysteriously disappeared and two solar days later, the cadet managed to crash her prowler on a routine training mission.  Evidently, she landed incorrectly.  It didn't matter that she'd already been flying them for six monens and had been assisting the younger ones.  It had been her own negligence.

"Surprisingly, the report surfaced.  But since Eihyeth wasn't present to substantiate her claim, and since she'd obviously been such a poor cadet, the allegations were false and all charges dismissed."  He waited for a reaction from Brennik but she was silent and still.  He was unwilling to look at her, to see in her eyes what she was thinking, so he continued with his story.

"So Tean and I took matters into our own hands.  He retrieved a copy of the report.  That night, Degjorba died.  I waited until he had picked his latest cadet, waited until the screams could be heard from the hallway and moved in."  He paused his monologue, wishing he could end there, but he knew the entire story needed to be told now.  There was no way he ever wanted to repeat this again.

"I pulled him off the girl and held the pistol to his left temple.  Then I looked into his eyes and listened to him offer me a turn at her, listened to him beg me not to pull the trigger, listened to him tell me I was a son to him.  That was when I squeezed my finger and watched the blast rip through his skull.  I almost didn't do it.  I almost walked out of there and let him finish for the night.  If he hadn't called me his son, he might have survived.

"He had reminded me of my real father and mother.  Eihyeth had been an exact replica of our mother.  She smiled just like her and laughed in the same way.  They were both so beautiful.  She had the same love of life Tean does."  His voice broke on a sob and he stopped.  He couldn't continue yet.

Brennik sat with him, quietly letting him pull himself together.  Finally, she spoke.  "So, you killed your mentor to avenge your sister."  She'd spoken softly, soothingly.

"I killed my captain out of revenge.  Don't romanticize it Brennik.  It was murder."

"So now you want to die."  Sethya couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling by the tonelessness of her voice.

"Murder is murder Brennik.  It doesn't matter how you dress it.  I didn't kill him to gain justice for all those children; I didn't do it to save Jhanel.  I killed him because he hurt my baby sister.  It was revenge.  According to the law, I deserve to be executed.  The universe would be a much safer place without me in it."

"If you believe that, why did you escape?" she challenged.

"Because that idiot brother of mine broke me out, and it was either go with him or watch him hang for trying to save me."

"So you go around with a death wish because you think it'll somehow redeem you?  What happened to 'without remorse'?"

"You've never killed anything by your own volition, Brennik.  When I was working under orders, it was just that- under orders.  At that moment, I was the one who decided his life wasn't worth living anymore.  After you have made the same decision, then you can tell me how to feel."

The training bay was oppressively silent.  He heard her breathing; in, out, in hitch, out.  Frell.  She was crying.  He didn't know how to handle this.  Then he realized tears were streaming down his own face.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, you're right.  I can never understand how you feel.  I've never been there."

"I hope you never are.  That's why I left.  If I stay with you, someday you will die because of me.  If you go with me, you will have to decide whose lives are worth living and whose aren't."  He let go of her hand, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him.  Her head rested on his chest, and he tried to control his labored breathing.  "You are.... innocent, pure, and I love that about you.  I don't want to be responsible for tearing that away."

Her arms circled his waist and she pulled herself closer to him.  He felt her chest hitch again in her efforts to hide her tears.  "So why did you come back?"

"Because I'm a selfish bastard who can't do the right thing."  He leaned over and softly kissed the top of her head.  He had her in his arms, and for the first time in cycles his soul felt at rest.  He closed his eyes and wished he could stay there forever.  But he couldn't.  He had a meeting with Gweer in 27 arns.

"Tell me you're staying this time."

"I can't, Princess."

She ripped herself from his side, storming towards the door, but he was only a step behind her.  "Brennik, wait."  She ignored him, so he grabbed her arm, ducking barely in time to miss the fist aimed at his eye. Her momentum threw her into him, and he stood with his arms around her hips, lifting her over his left shoulder.

"Put me down, you frelling drannit!" she hollered, kicking and beating his back with her fists.

He carried her to one of Moya's walls and set her down, trapping her between his body and the ship.  He laced his fingers in her hair before placing one hand on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him.  Her eyes were wide and filled with pain.  Tears pooled at the edges and he was sure that it was only by sheer willpower that the moisture didn't escape and trail down her face.

He spoke slowly, clearly, so there would be absolutely no mistake of his intent.  "I am coming back."  He searched her eyes, trying to judge if she believed him or not.  "I can't function without you, Princess.  I forget how to breath, and I am selfish enough to be unwilling to live without you.  I will be back."

"Don't go."

He sighed, the pain in her voice ripping out his heart.  This was beginning to sound like their last fateful conversation.  "If I could stay, I would.  If I could take you, I would.  But this is bigger than just me.  It involves the confidences and lives of several people.  I have to follow through with the plan exactly the way it was set up.  Give me four solar days.  That's all I need."

She cleared her throat and glanced down.  "What happens if you come back?"

He ducked his face into her line of sight, making eye contact.  "I don't know what we'll do when I come back.  Whatever it is, we'll do it together."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it.  I've never lied to you."

"Promise me."

"I promise on the memory of Eihyeth that I will return, and that I will never leave you again."  Her tears finally spilled over and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest tightly.  "I'm so sorry," he whispered.  "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

She pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes as she sniffled.  "Keep your promise and I might forgive you."

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  Her mouth was curved into a watery half smile.  She was teasing him.  Unable to hold back, he leaned forward and gently kissed the small, intriguing smile.  His lips touched hers and rest of the universe disappeared.  She was more intoxicating than any of the drinks he'd tried to forget with.

Pulling back, he searched her eyes, trying to tell her what words would not express.  The tears were gone, and she was searching him with an intensity that made him feel incredibly strong while sapping all the strength from his limbs.  Her arms encircled his neck, and she pulled his head slowly closer to hers.  Her lips were parted and her gaze had shifted to his mouth.

Did she know what she was doing to him?  He felt lightheaded, and ruefully admitted to himself that it was probably from the sudden loss of blood in his brain.  Agonizingly slowly, she pulled him closer, trailing her lower lip through her teeth.  Her eyes closed only a microt before her mouth met his.  Then the world began to spin.

His left arm braced them with an iron grip around her waist, giving her no room to pull back and cinching her hips to his.  The other snaked upward, allowing his hand to grab a fistful of her soft, damp hair.  "I love you," he whispered.  "You're mine."

"Promise?" she asked as he nuzzled her neck, her fingers raking his hair.

"Forever."

She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him away from her neck, forcing him to meet her eyes.  "I love you too.  All of you."

How could she?  How could she still love him after everything he'd told her, admitted the heinous things he'd done?  He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she didn't understand what she was saying, but he looked into her eyes and knew she wasn't lying.  She wasn't saying what she thought he needed to hear.  She loved him.

She had witnessed his dark side first hand, heard his failures, and loved him anyway.  It was terrifying and liberating all once.  She believed in him.  Could he measure up?  It didn't matter, though.  He couldn't live without her if he wanted to.

His mouth clamped down on hers, and for an eternity the world was just the two of them living for each other, silently promising to always cherish each other.  His knees lost their strength and slowly, they descended to the floor.  "I want you," he whispered, his desperation embarrassingly obvious.

"My quarters are pretty close," she returned.

He was tempted.  Her hips were wiggling against his, and her fingernails were raking his back as her tongue experimented with its newfound power.  Damn, she was making this hard... in more ways than one.  But he didn't want it to be like this, and for once in his life he was going to exert some self control.

Pulling away, he frantically gasped for breath, his forehead against hers, his hands trailing designs over her back.  "Not like this.  Not rushed.  We'll have plenty of time when I get back."  He felt her nod in agreement just before her lips found his again and all will power disintegrated.  "How close did you say your quarters were?" he asked weakly when she stopped to nuzzle his neck, sending shockwaves throughout his body.

She pointed toward the door with a shaky hand.  "Down the hall."

With monumental effort, he dragged himself to his feet, pulling her with him.  He wasn't sure he could make it that far, his legs were pretty weak, but there was no way he was staying in the training bay where anyone could walk in on them.

He stopped to kiss her one more time, which was a mistake because he instantly wanted to sink to his knees again.  But before his legs collapsed, Brennik jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.  All proper parts were perfectly aligned.  A sudden insurgence of adrenaline kept him standing, and he headed for the door, hampered by her distracting teeth nibbling at his ear.

"Brennik," annoyingly floated from the somewhere other than him.

"Ignore it," she whispered.

"Brennik, if you can hear me, Dad is headed your way.  Since the boys have to leave in a couple of arns, Mom set up a huge banquet for them."

"Frell," she swore.

"We can't," he said.  "Daddy's on his way."

He felt her giggle against his neck.  Her giggles turned to chuckles which turned to chortles.  Her laughter was infectious, and even he was seeing the awful humor behind the situation, and long unused chuckles escaped from his own throat.

"I'm going to be sore for days after this, you realize that," which only caused her to laugh even harder.  She'd fallen from his arms and was now doubled over beside him.

"So am I," she said wiping a tear away.  "Wanna go take a cold shower together?"

He rolled his eyes, unable to wipe the smile from his face.  He was frustrated and hurting, but he was happy.  "Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

"Either way, the problem would be solved."

"Let's go, before I let you seduce me again."

"Me?!?  You were doing all the seducing, pal.  I couldn't put two coherent thoughts together during all that."

He pulled her into his arms once last time, caressing her cheek softly with the back of his knuckles.  "Neither could I, Princess."

He saw her gulp before she turned away.  "Let's go eat.  For some weird reason, I worked up an appetite."

"Let me get my equipment first.  Hold on."  He went to his pile of clothing and strapped his holster on his hips, threw his jacket over his shoulder topped by his boots.  The laces had been tied together and a boot hung on each side.  "All right, let's go."

He kissed her one more time before lacing his fingers into hers, and together they headed for the Center Chamber, uncaring of who saw them.

---------------------------------------

The room had a festive atmosphere to it.  Everyone was present, including Pilot who participated in the proceedings through the clamshell.  Everyone was in high spirits, and everyone was determined to make this a happy occasion.  Colorful, aromatic food covered the oval shaped table, almost overflowing and crowding out those for whom it was intended.  Plates were full and laughter abounded in the room.

Sethya sat back in his chair, one arm resting on the back of Brennik's, as he listened to Aeric tell the group the story of what happened when he and John were pulled through a wormhole.

John was sitting next to Aeryn, across from Sethya and Brennik and he watched them covertly, envying them their easy closeness.  He knew they'd been separated for many cycles, yet their love seemed to be stronger than ever.  John absently reached out and softly caressed Aeryn's stomach, almost, it seemed, without realizing he was doing it as he listened to his son relate their tale.  Her hand covered his and the connection was nearly palpable.

Sethya sighed.  Would he and Brennik ever reach that point where the misunderstandings would be gone?  He wanted the same closeness for them, the same closeness his own parents had.  Her hand rested on his knee, and he absently started twirling her hair through his fingers.  At least he had this much, which was far more than he'd ever hoped for.



"...and that's when a Peacekeeper soldier goes walking by!" Aeric was saying.  John placed his elbows on the table and covered his eyes as the laughter flowed.

"You couldn't hold anything back, now could you?" he asked in feigned frustration.

"Hey, I was the one standing up there with my mivonks hanging out; I don't know what YOU'RE all embarrassed about."

More laughter erupted and Tean, enjoying the moment, shoved more food in his mouth.  They didn't get rations like this very often on Shadow, and even if everyone else was only pretending to eat, he wasn't going to let his chance go to waste.  Especially if that old witch's powder had been telling the truth-

Stop it he told himself.  It had simply been a bad trip, caused by his own concerns and paranoia.  Sethya and he were professionals, and Laighn had more than proven himself worthy of the assignment.  In, out, and they would return home to Moya.  Strange how that's how it felt now.  He hadn't had a home since he was eight cycles old, and now he was sitting amongst those he was beginning to consider family.

That thought was a touch uncomfortable.  It might cramp his style, and the next thing he knew, he'd be as soft hearted as Sethya.  He shuddered.  Surely never.



"...So I'm running down the hallway, pulse blasts firing behind me, I can't see dren behind me..."

"Watch your mouth," John and Aeryn said in unison, which only caused everyone to laugh again.

Laighn really liked this boy.  He was brave, had the heart of a warrior, like his own father.  He was sitting between Chiana and D'Argo, enjoying the tale, enjoying the food, and finding that he was wishing he didn't have to leave.

That wasn't good.  He couldn't stay in his own comfort zone.  How easy it would be to let his mother and father take care of everything.  He also knew that he would never have any self respect if he were to let that happen.

But this was home and here was the legendary John Crichton that he'd heard countless tales of from his parents as he grew up.  Here was Aeryn, the warrior and their two children whom he desperately wished he could get to know.

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to return with his crewmen after this commission.  If they made it through this alive, he would have more than earned his own way and proven himself.  How many people could say they've infiltrated a command carrier and lived?

"...All of them were taken care of.  Dad had managed to incapacitate every single one of them..." Aeric was saying, deep pride in his voice.

Yes, after they came back, he would stay a while.  Even warriors needed a rest and a home.

-----------------------------------------

"Remember Pilot, four solar days, at these coordinates."  He sat on Pilot's console, nearing the end of a brief visit to say good bye.  He didn't know what compelled him to come here in the first place, but it seemed he'd been doing a lot of things out of character lately.

"Yes, Tean.  Moya has the coordinates.  We will be there."

"Thank her for me."

"She sends her regards and her wishes for your safe return, and asks you to take care of Shedya.  She... and I, ask you to bring him back safely."

"I'll do my best.  We all want to come home."



"I will come and help," D'Argo was saying.  Now that the time to depart had arrived, he was reluctant to let go.  "Lo'La will triple your firepower.  You can use all the help you can get."

"No father.  I don't know much about the situation, but I do know that the plans were intricate and have to be followed exactly.  It's not just the three of us," he reassured him.  "There are others involved, and someone as infamous as you showing up will blow all their plans to hezmana."

"I don't like this."

"I know," he said quietly.  "But trust me enough to let me do it."  There was a long moment of quiet as D'Argo, hand on his son's shoulder, searched Laighn's eyes.

"I do trust you, son.  I just want to protect you."

"You do," Laighn said lightly, more lightly than he felt.  "Every time I use the whip you made me."

"You always did want to be a Luxan," he responded on a chuckle.

"Who else can say they're half Nebari, half Sebacean, half Luxan.  I'm undefeatable!"

"Remember that!" Chiana ordered, hugging him tightly before kissing him on the cheek.  "We're all proud of you.  But... but come back."

"Four solar days mother.  That's what they said," he assured before kissing her cheek and turning to Shadow.  He didn't look back as he walked up the ramp.  He was too afraid he'd run back to her arms and not leave.



This was it.  This was the moment he never wanted to relive.  He was leaving all over again.  She had come with him to the maintenance bay to see him off.  It reminded him of the last time they'd stood here, and he was half afraid she'd be snatched from him again.  This time, his arms were around her, though, giving no room for Tean or invisible rays to grab her.

"We always seem to be saying good-bye," she said, her words muffled by his chest.

"This isn't good-bye, it's see you later."

"Four solar days."

"Yes."

"You promised."

"Yes Princess, I promise."

Tean and Laighn were already on board, waiting for him.  The area was empty, everyone already having left.  They were alone.  Silently, he thanked John and Aeryn for their tact and then pushed all thoughts of them aside as his head leaned forward.  He pulled her head back and touched her lips softly with his own.

The kiss was slow, sweet... tender.  "Four solar days," he whispered against her lips.

"I'll be waiting," she whispered back.

He turned and ran up the ramp, tearing himself away for last time.  "Four solar days," he promised himself, "and this frelling nightmare will be over."

The click of Shadow's door closing was final, and with the feel of her lifting off, he desperately tried to focus on the mission before him.

[Auna]

EPILOGUE

"We did it," Tean said quietly to his companions.  All three men were huddled in the small command area, searching the sensors for any trace of pursuit.  "They're not after us."

"We did it," Sethya echoed in shocked reverie.  This had to be the first time that The Plan had worked.  Not only had it worked, it had worked flawlessly.

The three of them had entered a command carrier, broke into the information mainframe, stolen High Command's top secrets, and walked out without one person raising an eyebrow.  Ident Chips had worked at every checkpoint, no one recognized the two fugitives, no one questioned their mission, or the veracity of their hybrid prisoner they dragged with them.  Gweer had come through on every promise, and now they were far away from any trace of Peacekeeper presence.

"WE DID IT!" Laighn shouted joyously.  They were free!  He'd had the easiest job of the three, pretend to be a prisoner and follow his two companions wherever they went.  But he'd had the most stressful job as well, being surrounded by countless Sebaceans with superiority complexes that considered him a travesty of nature.

Tean let out a WHOOP of triumph and smacked Laighn across the back, laughing in his victory.  Sethya merely sat back, closing his eyes, shoving his fingers through his thick choppy hair.

"Lighten up, Seth," Tean said.  "Only twenty three more arns and we'll be at the rendezvous spot."

Sethya let his eyes rest briefly on Tean's face, smiling slightly before they were closed again.  He wanted to be as happy as the two men with him, but in his mind he kept seeing the dark monitor, and all the information he was able to absorb as it was being downloaded onto the information casks.

They had to get Brennik and John out of this sector... now.  It was only a matter of time.  The sheer volume of personnel working on this assignment was staggering, and it was a miracle the family hadn't been apprehended yet.

"How long?" he asked his brother again.

"Twenty three arns," he answered, patting Sethya on the shoulder.  "Maybe I can make it twenty if I..."

"Do what you need to, Tean.  We're the only ones with the information that can save them."

"Yes Cap'n," Tean said, trying for Scotty's accent, but butchering it with his Sebacean dialect.  Would they never be able to purge themselves of all those movies John forced them to watch?

Sethya stood and punched him lightly in the arm before leaving command quietly.  This was going to be a very long twenty arns.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"There they are!"  Chiana shouted, jumping up in her excitement, pointing to the large screen in front of the group.

Brennik was next to her in half a microt, throwing her arms around her friend, sharing the excitement.  "He did it!" she hollered in Chiana's ear.  Both women were crying as they clung to each other, jumping up and down together, staring at the ship on the screen.  "He kept his promise!"

Aeric sat quietly in a corner, visibly rolling his eyes, but just as excited as his sister.  He'd been keeping vigil with the two women for several arns now, and it looked as if their patience had paid off.  The men had even managed to get back a few arns early.

"D'Argo!" Chiana shouted into her comms.  "He's back!  Shedya is here!"

"I'll meet you in the docking bay," he answered breathlessly, obviously already running to his destination.

All three occupants of the command ran from the room, headed for the docking bay.


John jogged into the room, breathless and unsurprised to see everyone there already. Everyone but Aeryn, anyway.  He'd just left her leaning over their toilet, emptying her stomach of lunch.  He had been trying to offer comfort and support when Chiana's excited yell echoed over every comm on Moya.

Aeryn must have been really glad for the diversion, she'd all but threatened to shoot him if he didn't leave her alone and go the docking bay to greet the boys.  He'd insisted on staying with her in her misery, but she assured him that he would soon be just as miserable if he didn't just frelling leave.

Women.  He'd been married for twenty three years now, and he STILL didn't know how to deal with this crap.  Of course, there had been a twenty-year hiatus in the middle of that, so he ought to give himself a break, he thought as he scanned the room and quickly found D'Argo and Chiana.

His Luxan friend was standing next to Chiana, tolerating the excited energy pouring from the Nebari.  She couldn't stand still and John realized how far D'Argo had come, to stand there patiently and not yell once.

He walked up to D'Argo and patted his friend on the back.  D'Argo smiled at him and rolled his eyes, nodding in Chiana's direction.  The sound of the ship approaching could be heard behind the barrier wall, and the landing was quickly accomplished.

The wall opened and there was Shadow.  It took several microts longer than normal for the ramp to lower, but it finally descended, shedding bright light from the ship's interior into the docking bay.  No one emerged.

John and D'Argo shared a nervous look before D'Argo stepped forward.  "Shedya!"

Brennik ran to the base of the ramp.  "Sethya!  What's wrong?"  She started up the ramp, but was stopped by D'Argo's long arm wrapped around her waist, grabbing her and lowering her to the floor.

"Wait here," he instructed to everyone in the room, motioning for John to join him and pulled his Qualta Blade from its sheath.

John pulled Winona from her holster, and the two men ascended the ramp, unsurprised to hear Brennik and Chiana close behind them.  He wasn't sure what they would find inside.  Visions of the three boy's mutilated bodies played through his mind and he shoved the awful pictures aside.

"Chiana, please, keep Brennik out of here for a few microts," John asked pointedly, glancing at his daughter, ignoring her angry protests.

D'Argo looked at John gratefully as Chiana understood the problem and pulled the young woman from the ramp, holding the girl in her grey arms.

The two men entered cautiously, ready for anything.  What they saw was nothing.  The men were not aboard.  It only took a couple of minutes to quickly search the entire ship, and the only body they uncovered was one Blood Tracker.

Something had happened on board.  Everything was completely trashed and various colored blood splatters sprinkled several walls.

D'Argo, who had separated with John to cover more rooms quickly, joined the human in the small command.  "I should never have let him go off like that," he said, the pain breaking through his voice.

"We'll get him D," he assured, patting his friend on the arm, returning a promise the Luxan had once made to him.  "Wherever he is, we'll find him"