[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

"The seventy-third session of the current cycle's council is now open."

The old man's quavering voice filled the great hall, and was met with a relative silence. Amused, I gave a small slap at the ear feed set on the small desk before me. The eldest of the house's representatives, president of the Union's parliament, had elected to speak in Common Trading. This choice came as a surprise in an Earth-dominated institution, for even though all the stations across human space used Common Trading when dealing with transport, commerce and official station business, the Inner Colonies worlds were almost fanatical about their right to stick to whatever dialect they used on this or that planet--Spanish, Mandarin, English, French...there were hundreds of them.

"We are gathered here at the request of Lord Brennan Aries," the old man was saying, bowing at someone seated in the center of the front row. "Please, Lord Aries, will you--" I stopped listening.

They were going to let Brennan Aries speak first--the man controlling the Pilots' Guild as well as the shaper of the Graad Foundation's policies. "What's this supposed to mean?" I whispered in Shamira's ear, leaning toward her and praying we wouldn't be overheard. "You can't let that happen. If you allow--"

"It cannot be helped," she told me in an equally low murmur. "By tradition, the one who put the first question on the session's schedule has the floor. Be still and listen," she smiled, her gaze set on the speaker's platform, "and know the enemy whose every waking and sleeping moment is dedicated to annihilating us."

For a fraction of a second, I focused on Shamira and watched her still form--I reached out and felt the all but muted undercurrents surrounding her. It was true, or at least she believed it was, and she was deadly serious. Very well then, I shrugged, and again faced the great hall's center. Representative Shamira Goldstein had seats in the seventh row from the floor--a very unusual position for one to hold who was a power among the Outer Colonies and Azure Traverse's main voice: the first rows belonged to delegates from the Inner Colonies and from Earth. But Shamira was Earth-born, and as an Earth citizen she had a right to those seats which afforded us with a very clear view of the floor, as well as of the various speakers who'd stand on the platform.

From the center of the first row, a man stood up in an elegant, fluid movement, and stepped over to the platform without giving rise to the smallest echo as he walked on the pitch black surface of crystalline basalt that had been used to shape the hall's walls and floor. Clad wholly in dark grey, he had long, flowing white hair that he allowed to freely fall down his back. As he reached the platform, he pivoted and confronted the gathering, declining to climb up on it. He had no need for that, I acknowledged with an imperceptible bow of the head--no need for the advantage of height to capture an audience's attention, not with such a regal presence and that striking amethyst gaze which seemed to embrace the hundreds of people present and to bear into their souls.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began in a perfectly pitched voice, and I whistled between my teeth when I saw the words glide through the air and their sounds ripple with each row of representatives they touched. Yes, Shamira had been right: the man was dangerous, extremely so. That face looked young enough, marking him as a man in his late forties or early fifties, but the look in those purple eyes was not. It was ancient and harsh--hard as diamond. "I have gathered you here in this extraordinary session of the Council because it's past time for us to make a decision on a matter that has been pending in this hall for far too long." He paused for a moment, and then went on, "Before this session is over, we'll vote to withdraw the flying license that Azure Traverse tricked this noble institution into granting it two hundreds and forty five years ago."

I blinked. Silence alone had met the outrageous declaration. Silence, not an uproar of protest or even a buzz of questions. Beside me, Shamira was still smiling, her eyes set on Brennan Aries--his gaze focused on hers. So. I blew air through my nostrils. This was a very personal confrontation, beyond the smoldering war that had never truly ceased between Inner and Outer Colonies.

Between Azure Traverse and the Graad Foundation's Pilots' Guild.

"Careful," came Fi's faint whisper in my right ear, even as she reached out to me and laid her hand over mine. I was stretching myself dangerously far, that was her warning to me. The currents I felt taunting me, tempting me were too think, too insubstantial out of the Deep, and the lure to sail them was a vicious trap. But the knowledge that could be gained from following the tenuous ripples--with a nod, I acknowledged Fi and let go of the weak strands I had started to gather to me.

"We all know," Brennan Aries was saying, his voice steady and clear--its undertones compelling, soft as black velvet, "the false justifications lying at the core of the mistaken choice made all those years ago. We also know the danger that Azure Traverse's rogue pilots represent." A low murmur of assent met that last statement, coming from all around us, and the speaker smiled--a thin smile that didn't touch his eyes, as if the man was beyond feeling satisfied at the effect his words were having among the representatives. For effect, there was, as if Brennan Aries' speech served as a guiding pathway, a magnet for anger and resentment, fear and contempt, all negative emotions that he seemed to summon and draw out of them.

"They scorn the safety of jumpgates and established trade routes. They disturb the economies of more fragile and importation-dependant worlds. They undercut deals made by respectable Merchanters and Transporters, disrupting the flow of materials and goods throughout entire systems. Their greed for power and influence causes them to prevent smaller colonies--fringe colonies--to use the service of the Pilots' Guild. But," Brennan Aries bowed his head with a sigh, "that is nothing. That's the way commerce and competition can go when things get nasty. No, what matters," he looked up at the assembly, "is the terrible hazard the jumpships and their pilots represent. I don't need to remind you all of the tragedy that struck at wolf 359."

Ghosts.

I clenched my teeth. Ghosts from a distant past. The man was playing on old fears that had taken root in humankind's collective subconscious mind, and it was working. "Nothing has changed since that terrible day," Brennan Aries said softly. "Worse, Azure Traverse has scorned the help Earth technology offered them, and the safety it brought to space travel, preferring to keep on endangering lives everywhere their jumpships go. It's no secret to anyone in this hall that space is hostile to us--that hyperspace is deadly and that it destroys the human mind, that we cannot whistand the alienness of it. That is why we build jumpgates operated by people carefully selected and trained from birth--that is why ships and crews go in sedated, shielded from the madness poised in that void. But Azure Traverse's pilots, oh, Azure Traverse's pilots are above all that," Brennan Aries scoffed. "They go in with their eyes open, with their minds bared for the chaos of hyperspace to shred and tear apart. We all know where that led them in the past, and leads them still: a hazard to navigation, barely avoided collisions and lost cargo, shocked passengers, and wherever jumpships dock, madness and violence on station."

Fi's left hand clasped my right, and from very far away I heard her suck air inside her lungs. Bastard. Stifling a sudden burst of laughter, I focused on the crafty, lying son of a bitch standing on the platform before us.

"Unbalanced. Unstable." Brennan Aries hammered the words, his tone harsh. "Addicted to drugs we know nothing about, prone to bouts of insanity which could be due to withdrawal or hyperspace syndrome, those men and women walk our stations unchallenged and act as they please, take whatever or whomever they please. Those mad pilots threaten, bully and abuse, seduce and deceive our sons and daughters, taking advantage of the aura of mystery surrounding them. They stop to nothing. They heed no law, no station regulation. They have neither ethics, nor morals. They break every life they can grasp, and they answer to no one. This must stop."

The murmur that rose from all around us was no longer faint or discreet. Words could be picked up, ugly as the emotions that accompanied them. Fi's hand on mine was shaking, but I didn't move. I willed myself to sit still and listen. Shamira had been correct: this man was our enemy, an enemy whose sole goal and obsession was to take us down.

"We all know this," Brennan Aries' voice bore above the hall's growing rumor of anger and outrage. "We have all seen the ravage caused by their passage. We have all comforted young people ensnared by those ruthless, lawless misfits. It grows worse with each jump they make. When does it stop? When they kill themselves and the crews of ships unlucky enough to be in their way when they make one of their crazy in-system jumps? When their insatiable lust for flesh makes them rape and murder our own?" Brennan Aries drew in a breath, and took a step back. "Why should we allow this to go on, when we know where it must all lead? Why should we grant Azure Traverse a flying license when no inspector is allowed aboard their jumpships, and no doctor is ever allowed to examine their pilots or monitor their condition?"

Dramatics. A grimace that was almost a snarl curled up my lips, even as the man finally shut up. Petty dramatics with nothing solid to back up the wild accusations.

But it was working.

He had them, I could feel it in the tension that choked the hall, I could see it in people's rigid stances all around us. It was as if Brennan Aries somehow held all the people present in thrall.

"Strong words as always, Lord Aries," Shamira clapped her hands in the heavy silence that had followed the man's impassioned speech. "A shame that such story-spinning talents must be wasted here, when they could make your name the most famous star of IFN." Interstellar Fiction Network, the most popular network in human space, watched by billions of people, dedicated to flicks ranging from the worst romance tales to convoluted political and deep philosophical plots.

"The floor is all yours, dear Lady," Brennan Aries retorted with an elegant bow and a smile, untroubled. Beside me, Shamira laughed, a rich, beautiful sound that rippled through the hall and felt like the lifting of a curse.

"Certainly you don't expect me to waste the representatives' precious time by repeating things I've said a thousand times already." She gave a gracious shake of her head, then went on, "Fear and prejudices such as the ones you build upon are based on lack of information, on ignorance or distorted stories, wild tales that travel with Merchanter ships from station to station. They feed upon themselves and grow, regardless of the absence of facts to back them up. There is only one thing I can do to bring answers to the doubts and shadows you've cast upon all our hearts". She reached out to me then, and briefly rested a hand upon my left shoulder. "Fellow representatives," she called in a ringing voice, "I give you the object of all your fears, so that you may see for yourselves, listen and decide: the worst and nastiest of Azure Traverse's pilots."

"Oh thanks," I groaned in a breath, "thank you so very much, Shamira."

With a nod, she patted my shoulder. "Go, Loki. It's in your hands." All trace of laughter had vanished from her voice.

It was logical, I admitted with a sigh even as I stood up. There wasn't much else she could do to break Brennan Aries' spell.

Cold.

On instinct, I reached out to Fi, and touched her steadying strength next to me. Brennan Aries had focused on me, and what had traversed the air just now, the flat, unwavering light in those amethyst eyes--hatred. True, pure hatred, the likes of which I had never felt before.

Old.

Ancient.

A festering stain of darkness that was like a tear in the Deep's currents, that nothing could ever hope to heal. What could Shamira have done, what could Azure Traverse have done to this man to warrant something as ugly as that--monstrous? He felt like the Dwellers when the madness came upon them and they withdrew the human section of Shore from normal space altogether to prevent us from docking there. The hatred in him was icy and perfect and terrible, and it didn't belong in a human being. Still, I made myself sustain his gaze, and used the cold to smother the anger Brennan Aries' speech had given rise to. Despicable lies, I willed a smile to my lips. Despicable lies, all of it. Then, in a slow motion, I pivoted to get a good view of the complete hall.

A little bit more than a thousand, less than a thousand and a half. Representatives sent from all the corners of human space, a picture of the human race's diversity. There were allies among them, probably more than I thought, people from the Outer Colonies where the Pilots' Guild had never bothered to build their cursed lockgates. Drawing in a deep breath, I stepped out of the row and went down to the floor. I'd have preferred to stay where I was, close to Fi, enough so I could reach out to her and feel her without having to stretch myself too thin, but I needed to stand in plain view of all of them--to offer them the object of their fears, as Shamira had said.

Even as I reached the floor, Brennan Aries left the platform's edge and walked past me without even sparing me a glance. I gave him a slight bow nonetheless, and followed his retreating back with a bemused smile that I knew the audience wouldn't miss. Bad manners, Lord Aries, no biscuit, I wanted to tell him. Instead, I looked up at the people gathered in this stronghold of crystalline basalt and wooden doors, and spread out my arms horizontally with a helpless shrug.

"Well," I grinned at them, "what more can I say to seal my own doom and that of all my friends, that of many in the Outer Colonies?" Bringing my right hand up, I pushed the tip of my forefinger against my lips and hummed quietly to myself, then: "Let's see, my name is Loki Morgenstern--please note the fine choice of my parents for a given name and excuse their somewhat warped sense of humor." I waved the matter aside, catching Fi's eye and relieved to see laughter sparkling in her gaze. "I'm the pilot of the jumpship Griffin, which docked at Carré during the previous day shift." That was much more information than most of them were bound to realize, but of course none other than some in the Outer Colonies knew the meaning of my jumpship's name--just as they couldn't recognize the small emerald I was wearing in my braid. Emerald, not sapphire, but the detail was lost on the esteemed representatives.

"So it was you!"

"I almost lost a full shipment of sheep because of your antics!"

"Several ships nearly lost their approach vector--"

"So you even boast of your disregard for the most basic rules of safety and you--"

"Not quite," I chuckled. That was what I had been waiting for. There was bound to be an uproar from some of the Inner Colonies once they knew exactly who I was--there had been a lot of incoming traffic when we had Out Fallen deep inside Capella's system, complains had come from Earth diplomatic ships whose passengers were most likely present in the hall, so better to have it out in the open and use it. "Certainly you can't mean what you just said," I told the woman in the third row who had spoken last with mock innocence, "not in light of the Azure Traverse charter, and the core rules present in every station's regulations across human space," I cocked my head to the side. "Or do they no longer teach that in the Pilots' Guild's and in the Graad Foundation's academies?"

Laughter followed my question, gliding down the rows from the back seats, where the Outer Colonies' representatives were placed, and: "Tell them, Griffin!" There were several hoots and catcalls, and before it could degenerate any further and slip into chaos, I made a placating gesture, and nodded.

"Azure Traverse jumpships are granted alpha priority level, be it for docking, undocking, approach, system entry or departure. Every stationmaster knows this, as does every ship's captain with a valid license, or so it was the last time I checked," I scorned them, my voice dripping sarcasm. Then, sobering, I went on, "All of us, we know exactly the state and density of station traffic moments before Out Fall or In Dive. We sail the Deep's currents, and they drop us where we will with a precision no other ship can match. We cannot be surprised by unexpected traffic or ships, but still we're always ready to In Dive again, should an emergency arise. Stations are warned of our routes far in advance, and of our exact entry point before In Dive. It's the stationmaster's duty to warn the ships currently docking or approaching, and it's the ships' captains' responsibility to control nervous or novice crews who'd make the basic mistake to fret upon spotting a jumpship Out Falling in their vicinity. That," I drew in a breath, "has always been the way of things, and this situation has never sparked a single complain in the Outer Colonies."

"Perhaps because they have no jumpgates and are wholly dependant on the likes of you!" a man shot out from the second row.

"Perhaps," I conceded with a gracious bow. "And perhaps," I added with a feral smile, "because Earth and the Inner Colonies have better things to do with their money than to invest it in the building of these jumpgates into remote star systems, the people there understand far more than you do the full insanity of withdrawing Azure Traverse's license." With that, I turned my back on them, and stepped over to the platform.

"A navigational hazard?" I laughed, pivoting to face them again and sitting down on the platform's steps. "Unbalanced pilots who abuse defenseless Merchanters' children? Tell me," I said in a soft, soft voice, "what do you know of this? What do you know of us? What do you know, other than the fears instilled inside your hearts by myth, rumors and lies such as those spread by crews on leave in cheap station taverns?" I took a risk, then. I bowed my head and allowed silence to reclaim the hall for a few heartbeats, time for me to master and ignore the dull, constricting ache in my throat.

It hurt, worse than I had expected it would. As all those people focused on me, waiting like Fi when I paused to pick the swiftest course--I wanted to reach out, but I couldn't, mustn't do so. Releasing my breath in a low hiss, I looked up.

"We are sailors of the Deep," I told them all, joining my hands, fingers intertwined on my lap. "We ride the currents and dive through the Deep's great storms. We feel it embrace our ships and our spirits. We feel the pull of the stars in each eddy we avoid. We know the shortest ways to get from Alpha Eridanis to Barnard's star. We know the secret path leading to Achernar in a single Dive from Proxima Centauri. We link Alure, lost in Mizar's twin star system, to the rest of human space. Withdraw our license, and who will ship water and essential goods to them? Who will ship back the precious titanium of Alure's mines? Mizar's shadowy sister creates eddies and whimsical undercurrents in that section of space, making it impossible to build a lockgate there. And without us, who will honor the trade agreements sealed with the Nyah, who will go into Nyah space, where the Pilots' Guild may not build the gates without which they cannot travel? And lastly," I asked them in a quiet whisper, "who will dare reach out to the Dwellers?"

The Dwellers, who came and went as they pleased and swam the Deep like sharks. They knew no boundaries, no limits, no notion of territory. They had avoided human space on a whim, and because our visits to Shore amused them. Were that to stop, there was no telling what would ensue. The Nyah were logical beings who shared common concepts with humanity, methane breathers though they were. The Dwellers were being who hovered between the Deep and normal space, unstuck in time as well as in space, chaotic forms of life who might have given rise to the legend of demons in all the myths and religions of humankind.

No answer came, but I hadn't expected any. Besides, I wasn't done yet. There remained two small details to take care of. In a slow, deliberate motion, I pivoted to confront Brennan Aries. "You build lockgates," I told him softly, "as if that could give you control over the Deep. You send your ships through them blind, guided by pilots to whom you teach that one jumps from one gate to the next, following a set, rigid course. But there is no such thing." The purple gaze was distant, unfathomable. "The Deep is motion, it's flow and change, and there is no controlling it. There is only feeling the currents and adapting to them, to the Deep's whims. Lockgates to restrain the Deep and bind its flow?" I challenged him, "Would you then dream of controlling the oceans of Earth?"

In the moments the words hit, something flashed in those eyes, unnamed and terrible. And around him I thought I saw the air ripple, like the Deep when a sudden storm was forming. My heart skipped a beat and I sat very still, waiting for it to pass and for the heavy hand pressing my chest to lift. Eventually I stared down at my hands joined upon my lap and then looked to my right--toward a man whose eerily clear blue gaze met mine easily. I drew air inside my lungs and remembered the sight of him in the Aegean's main room. I remembered the touch of his hands and the scent of him in the darkness. I remembered the feeling of him in the fake dawn, and the ethereal caress I had thought to be an illusion.

And I smiled.

"We are people," I locked my gaze with his--with the one who had tricked the trickster. Perhaps it was the way of the universe to get back at me for all the pranks I had gotten away with in my life. Perhaps it was only fair. "We are flesh and blood, and we have feelings, we have laws and honor, and an absolute respect for human life. Rapists? Abusers of children?" My smile grew to reveal my teeth. "Those are wild tales spread from one tavern to the next, stories to hush kids during the long in-system drops among Merchanter ships, when crews feel bored. But," lifting up my right arm, I set my elbow on my thigh and leaned my chin on the palm of my hand as I added in a confiding voice, "if you want stories," the smile on my lips didn't waver, didn't tremble as I said, "I could tell you a few where the Pilots' Guild's own have a rather shocking part."

He didn't move. He didn't look away. He didn't react at all except for the flame of mirth I saw dancing in his eyes. Swallowing the distant lump in my throat, I turned away from him, and stood up. "I have nothing more to say," I told the assembly in a calm voice.

"Thank you then, Loki Morgenstern of the jumpship Griffin." I stopped and looked up at the woman who had spoken up from her seat midway to the top. Latifa Ben Aoui, representative of the Hyades Cluster, I identified her thanks to her dark red hair and deep black eyes. Fi and I had docked twice on Leaf, the station she managed, on our way to Achernar. "Now, if all non-representatives will please leave this hall, we can continue our debates, enriched by the knowledge we were just given."

Pfeh. Given knowledge--she knew, like most of the Mid Range representatives, she knew the truth of us, of the jumpships and their pilots. On the fifth row, Shamira gave an imperceptible nod of the head, and I bowed, even as Fi left her own seat. The Hyades Cluster liked to maintain at least a semblance of neutrality. They had no set alliances, but instead they followed whichever way the wind blew. There was no telling the real motive behind Latifa Ben Aoui's request, but it might be wiser to leave now. To stay might make some representatives think that our presence was meant to pressure them into refusing to vote Brennan Aries' insane proposition--and get the opposite result. Snorting, I accelerated the rhythm of my walk, happy enough to let others deal with self-righteous bigotish fools like the dogs who followed the Graad Foundation's commands.

Fi winced when I slammed the door of Shamira's office shut. "Can you make any more noise?" she asked me in a tart voice, scowling.

I scoffed at that. "I can try." Before I could demonstrate the fact, Fi turned her back on me, and heaved out a loud sigh.

"Do you think they're gonna vote it?" she abruptly asked, weariness plain in her tone--strain also. It must have been even harder for Fi, who hadn't been able to stand up and rise against Brennan Aries' disgusting false accusations. Fi, who had been forced to remain still and silent, the one steady rock in the turmoil of eddies and undercurrents that had flooded the great hall. My center and anchor in this universe as well as in the Deep.

I smiled at her back, and shrugged. "I don't think so, but there's no way to be sure. We have numerous allies among the Outer Colonies' representatives, and even some in the Mid Range worlds. It'll depend on the percentage threshold the proposition must reach in order to pass. But," I added softly, "at least I think I managed to unravel most of the lies that bastard tried to weave."

"There is nothing but grief and pain and hatred in that man," Fi cut in, her voice distant--tainted with what might have been fear. "The harm he could have done, the harm he yearned, thirsted to do..." Hugging herself, Fi let her words dissolve into silence. For a while, neither of us moved, then eventually Fi reached out to the pad attached to her left forearm and switched it back on: it would have been inconvenient to receive calls and communications from traders or associates requesting a transport during the parliamentary session.

But it would have been fun too.

"Well, well, well," Fi mused, having brought her forearm to the level of her chest.

"Huh?" I murmured as I joined her side and stole a glance at the diminutive screen above her shoulder. "What now? Did the Dwellers just Out Fall directly at dock to give us their fucking cargo?"

"No, stupid!" Chuckling, Fi elbowed me and glanced at me with a grin on her face when I yelped and jumped back. "Serves you right." Then she added, sobering, "The Takeda clan has requested our services for a run beyond the Fringe. Looks like they have cargo that has been sitting in Carré's very expensive storage facilities for a while, and they're really relieved to see a team of jumpships at dock."

It was true we didn't often come so deep into human space. None of us liked the stuck-up station personnel that ran things for the Graad Foundation and always tried to clear berths and make way for convoys headed to and from the local lockgate. "What is cargo bearing the mark of the Takeda clan doing here in Carré?" I asked, somewhat surprised. "Is its nature so sensitive that it had to be cleared by Earth before being shipped out?"

There was a short moment of silence, time for Fi to tap into the station's network and retrieve the data, then she gave a shrug. "The manifest lists various ores and seeds--" she blinked, "tropical seeds, an awful lot of them. Weird," she snorted, "but maybe it's useful for generating methane."

"Yeah," I sniggered, "maybe." That was strange enough--not to mention plain ludicrous--but everything was weird when dealing with non-human species. "So that means we're headed for Edge, then?"

"Not Quite. You're gonna love this," Fi's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Our destination is N-ay-si."

I whooped in appreciation. N-ay-si, deep into Nyah space where even jumpships were seldom allowed. Trade was mostly done from Edge, where the station was built to accommodate Nyah as well as human beings. Being requested to cross the border and go so deep into Nyah space was a rare treat indeed. "And of course, it's all chance that we ran into Takeda Hajime when we came in here." Laughter bubbled up my throat. "I thought nobody, not even representatives, could use personal communicators when in the great hall."

"Laws and regulations exist only so we can bend them or go around them, I thought you of all people knew that," Fi retorted, ancient wisdom dripping from her every word.

"Right," I stuck out my tongue at her, drawing her with me as I made for the door we had used on our way in. "What do you say we go now, and take our cargo to its destination? Spare the Takeda clan further storage fees, and maybe already be In Diving by the time the vote is called?"

"It would be difficult, well, impossible for even Shamira to recall us once we enter Nyah space," Fi gave a thoughtful nod, and went along with my movement.

The narrow corridor looked empty, which was just as well. We went down the way we had come, not quite running, but close. It would take at least a third of the day shift to load the cargo, replenish Griffin's and Pegasus' water, air and food reserves, and finally be on our way. The jumpships were designed to recycle everything and could operate on standalone for a virtually unlimited amount of time, but it never hurt to renew supplies, most of all when faced with a haul as long as this one was bound to be.

Shadow.

The smallest of disturbances registered in my brain, and all of a sudden I realized that someone was standing in the corridor, his back resting against the basalt wall less than ten steps away from us--had been standing there all along, but somehow Fi and I had missed the tall, lean silhouette. Wordlessly Fi reached out to me and let her left hand brush against my right. She had spotted him too. When he turned to face us, his long, thick black braid of hair spilling upon his right shoulder and his hawklike gaze set on us, we didn't stop.

We didn't slow down.

Eyes focused on the corridor before us, we walked past what was nothing more than a shadow on the wall.

A shadow.

"They won't vote it, you know." The quiet whisper cut through the echo of our steps. "It was a good, fast thinking move on Shamira Goldstein's part--and on yours. There's no need to rush out and leave dock in such haste."

"Why?" The flat question had come from me. Unable to help myself, I turned toward him and asked, "Why tell us?" Beside me, Fi had stopped as well, and I could feel her heart beat in synch with mine.

Painful.

Too quick.

"What transpired in that hall matters not," the man waved in that direction, as if chasing away a pestering fly. "What matters is you," he said, his stark blue eyes focused on us once more, intent. "The danger you represent, the danger you're in--it's deeper and direr than you know."

"Danger?" Smirking, I mocked him. "Do you go with it all, then?" I challenged him, and added between clenched teeth, my voice toneless, "Has it become my bewitching you, pressuring you, bullying you and forcing you to get into that bed?" I could feel eddies forming all around me and growing--dissonances in the muted flow of normal space that made Fi hiss on my left. She didn't speak out, for I was at the center of it, the source, and she had picked that up also.

"No," he smiled. "No," he repeated in a soft, soft whisper meant for me alone, and he reached out to me, the back of his hand brushing against my cheek in a gentle caress. From very far away, I felt my eyes go very wide, then I closed them shut and leaned into the touch. That was just me letting go of all the tension accumulated in the hall. That was just it--not me giving in to shadows and lies, not me abruptly wishing that the Deep would envelop us in its many folds and banish the passing of Time.

"There is talent in you," he said at last, even as he released me. "Bright and strong, and I wouldn't see it wasted and lost." Bitterness had twisted his smile. "You are raw lights, untrained, uncontrolled. Unbalanced."

A shiver ran down my spine when I heard his pronouncement echo that of the Dwellers. "Sooner or later," he went on, calm, implacable, "you must fall into chaos and bring death and pain to all who touch you. There is no way to escape this, no drug, no soothing presence of a soul mate," he glanced briefly at Fi, who stood very still beside me, "nothing. There's only training for the strongest of you, those who can whistand it, and attempting to heal the others, to cut them away from the traitorous lure of jumpships and hyperspace."

I had to laugh.

The grimace distorting the lines of my mouth was a snarl. As if unaware of the interruption, he let out a small sigh. "Brennan's words are tainted by memories of a distant past, but beneath the surface lies a truth you would do well to heed. He won't stop until he grounds the last of Azure Traverse's jumpships, but instead of using your strength to escape him and thwart him, you should attend to the real threat to yourselves. There isn't much time," he shook his head. "The abyss waiting at your feet isn't a patient one."

Enough. With difficulty, I looked away from him and gave a curt nod of the head. "We heard you," I told him non-committally. None of it made any sense, but I wasn't about to start arguing with him. I wanted to be away from this place. "Now you'll have to excuse us. There is cargo waiting to be loaded upon our ships." With that, I started on my way again, a silent, somber Fi on my heels. He didn't call for us to stop.

Once we had turned to the left and disappeared from his view, I dragged in a breath, and spat, "Fucking son of a--"

Fi whirled toward me and laid her right forefinger against my lips. "Hush," was all that she said. The light in her hazel eyes was a wavering one. In a slow motion, she touched her brow to mine, like she did when we were docked at an alien station where no establishment bore the trident's mark--like she did when we were stranded ashore and alone.

Cut out from the Deep.

Loki Morgenstern and his companion had barely disappeared behind a turn in the corridor when a door opened on Siel's right.

"What was that all about?" came Brennan's voice, angry and harsh. Siel didn't need to turn around or to reach out to know that hatred hadn't yet retreated in him, not yet freed him enough for the Aries Gold Saint to master it completely in spite of his considerable powers. Even though he couldn't have overheard Siel's conversation with the two Azure Traverse pilots, Brennan must have felt Siel's presence and that of the two young people, and moved. Quickly, came the thought in Siel's mind, too quickly. He hadn't wanted Brennan to barge in while he was trying to undo the damage done by lies--a damage that would only push the pilots further down the path of destruction.

"Curiosity," Siel lied easily in response to the furious question.

"The same that led you to the Aegean?" Brennan shot back with dripping scorn.

"The same," Siel nodded, which was the truth this time. When the Pisces Gold Saint had heard that two jumpships had appeared right at the center of the Capella system, disrupting the traffic and in-bound to dock at Carré, he had seized the rare opportunity offered to him, and gone to wait for whoever would appear at the Aegean. What had happened when the two pilots had entered the main room, and when the redhead's green eyes had found Siel watching him--well, that had been pleasant enough, if not entirely expected. The Pisces Saint had heard the stories, like all who once walked a station's deck had, but he hadn't expected such raw fire--such need.

If anything, that one night encounter had taught Siel much more than Brennan's piles of reports--reports which contained their good share of lies and prejudiced misconceptions anyway. "Am I to interpret your presence here as a sign that the session is over?" Siel asked in a quiet voice.

"The Hyades Cluster representatives have requested a pause before we proceed with the vote," Brennan gestured toward the door he had come through. "They're playing it as if they were still unsure as to where the strongest wind blows," he laughed, a joyless sound that resounded in the now empty corridor.

"Not that they could tip the balance," Siel replied softly once silence had come back.

"Right," Brennan nodded, the light glinting in his eyes a malevolent one. "I didn't hope for them to choose the easy path. Whatever happens now is on those Outer Colonies fools' hands. If they choose grief and pain, we can hardly argue."

That was unfair, but Brennan knew that and didn't give a damn. Siel heaved out a sigh, all too much aware that the unbalance in the head of the Sanctuary was a dangerous one, less than the threat the Azure Traverse pilots represented, but not much so. "It's gone far enough," Siel abruptly found himself saying. "Who are we to decide their fate? They're--"

"We're the guardians of humanity, that's who we are," Brennan countered with a frightening calm that meant anger had gripped his heart, a cold anger that was only the surface of the black storm devouring him. "We're the ones who judged that the spawns of the Ocean's line had to be weeded out. We are the ones who must rise when chaos rears its ugly head--or have you forgotten about that part of your oath to Athena?"

A brief chuckle escaped Siel's lips when he heard that. He was no apprentice who could be baited so easily, as Brennan should remember. But the Aries Saint was too blinded by hatred and obsession right now, most of all after having been challenged by the object of his contempt and rage. Loki Morgenstern had made himself a true, mortal enemy today. The thought of the young man brought another smile to Siel's lips, a gentler smile, and a distant, almost imperceptible pain that might have been a hint of regrets brushed against his heart.

"No," Siel answered at last, and he pivoted to confront Brennan. Looking into the purple eyes, he said calmly, reasonably, "No, I haven't forgotten. But this is different. I didn't agree in that moment, but the possibility you raised at the time was real. It was your call, you gave the word and we obeyed. We observed," Siel's gaze didn't waver, and the smile didn't fade from his lips, even though it grew cold as he went on, "we watched and we remained silent. We didn't move." So young, all of them. So young, Shay and Cassandra, Carey, Micheal and Dominique and he when that decision had been made--all but Brennan--not that it excused anything or even justified anything. Gold had been their color even then. Gold, glittering, powerful, beautiful and heavy as sin, heavy as the world itself, a responsibility and a knowledge that would crush anyone else than they.

"This--" Siel looked to the right, toward the hall where more than a thousand people were waiting to vote on a proposition that was probably anathema to a good third of them, "this, on the other hand..." he shook his head, adding, "it's not war, Brennan. It's kids being deceived and led to their doom. It's children being shaped into something they don't understand, cut away from their humanity. They're as much victims as they're danger. They don't know, they're true."

Oh yes. True, they were. There was no dissembling that, there had been no dissembling that stark sincerity when Siel had given Loki Morgenstern the shelter and release the young pilot had so desperately needed. The redhead's heart had been bared--and Siel's, yes, Siel's as well, even though the Pisces Saint would never reveal that dangerous secret to anyone. When Siel had held his lover close and felt him drift away into sleep, he had known that this was no enemy, no warrior trained to destroy them or harm humanity.

"The one true threat facing us," Siel continued in the same, calm voice, "is the one posed by Shamira Goldstein. She's the puppet master, the one manipulating them and using them like tools one discards once they've outlived their usefulness--she alone. The war," he let his voice drop to a mere whisper, "has ended. The Solo line was broken seventeen years ago--you broke it, Brennan, with your own hands." There was more that Siel would have said, about murder and outstepping their boundaries, but Brennan wouldn't hear it.

Brennan lived in a black, black world of pain and hatred, and he sank into it a little bit more each day, drawing the Sanctuary along with him. Like his peers, Siel could do little more than to watch it happen.

But if Loki Morgenstern could heed Siel's words.

If that bright, wild fire could somehow find the strength to dare touch his own heart and make the insane bet also known as trust.... With an imperceptible sigh, Siel acknowledged that it wasn't likely to happen, not after Brennan's hatred had struck the young pilot directly and clawed at him.

No other word was said, but when Brennan went back the way he had come, Siel knew that his words had been heard, and rejected. The Aries Gold Saint, representative of Athena on Earth and last survivor of the last war against Poseidon two centuries ago, wouldn't budge from his position. Brennan would tear down Azure Traverse, and destroy anything Shamira Goldstein had ever touched. It didn't matter that it involved snatching innocent people's lives away from them, for a very simple reason.

In Brennan's eyes, the young pilots of Azure Traverse had died on the very first day they had set foot on a jumpship's deck. To him, they were already dead.

All of them.

On my left, the airlock door slid shut. There was an ear-piercing hiss while normal atmospheric pressure was being restored and the deadly mix of methane and sulfur was being flushed out of one of Griffin's smaller holds. Thanks to some kind god or goddess, Griffin's powerful air recycling machines got rid of the poisonous gas and its awful stench in less than a minute. As soon as the light on the environmental control panel flashed green, I removed my breathing mask and ear plugs. In quick strides, I stepped over to the hold's far end and stored the wretched equipment where it belonged before going back to the main deck.

Griffin was a jumpship of the latest generation. It was meant for a crew of a single person: its pilot, which meant that the living quarters aboard were rather small. There was a diminutive mess room, a bathroom with a shower that delivered real, honest-to-the-gods-if-recycled water--a luxury that not even the richest of Merchanter ships could enjoy--an infirmary and the piloting deck. There was also a single separate room for sleep or simply rest, but it was mostly unused: pilots preferred to stay on deck at all times as a rule, and the main seat could pivot as a pilot needed it to, turning into a couch one moment, and reverting back to a captain's seat the next.

Unlike Merchanter and Miner ships which needed to be able to house and sustain whole crews of a dozen of people at least--not to mention the passenger liners--a jumpship's living quarters were kept to a minimum. The engines, powerful monsters which could rip through the fabric of reality to allow In Dive and Out Fall, comprised most of a jumpship's bulk. The cargo holds were built alongside the flanks, designed not to alter the jumpships' sleek lines. It suited us fine; pilots lived on their decks. It was where they could touch the Deep and navigate the currents, where they--where we--truly felt alive.

"Fi," I called, opening a channel toward Pegasus, "are they done on your side as well?"

"Yes." The reply came almost at once, and it was free of all but the faintest of static. Of course, it helped that we were berthed next to each other, but still the quality of the Nyah-made comm system was impressive--if only because it had been able to deal with human designed interfaces. That we had managed to plug Pegasus and Griffin into N-ay-si station's system was nothing short of miraculous. In a small window of my viewscreen, Fi was making a face. "I just came back from checking the holds one last time. The stench of sulfur is sticking to my clothes." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "There's no way we're undocking before I've had time for a shower and a change of clothes, Loki. Hear me?"

"Aw," I mocked her gently, "aren't we the delicate one--or is it because Muir will be waiting for us at Achernar?"

"Loki!" she growled. "If you ever dare start undocking procedures, I will personally come aboard Griffin, and space you."

"Sure!" I laughed. "And who will guide you then?"

"The Nyah will", she sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a much overdone gesture of offended dignity, "being nice and courteous people, unlike someone I know."

"Aye, aye." I rolled my eyes heavenward in mock despair, and terminated the communication. It wouldn't take Fi that long to be ready, and I could start preparations on Griffin, inputting the details of our coming run into the jumpship's computer while waiting for her go-ahead. At least that way I wouldn't have to do it during the Dive, and Edge would get our planned Entry information well within acceptable delays prior to our Out Fall there.

It had been a smooth ride all the way from Carré to N-ay-si, deep into Nyah space, a long, long Dive from Edge. Still, we had made good time, stopping at the border station just long enough to drop some goods there and pick up more tropical tree seeds as a service to a Nyah trader ship stuck at dock for repairs. It looked like tropical tree seeds were perishable goods for the Nyah--which had made Fi and I go on bad bursts of laughter for hours on end.

N-ay-si itself was hanging dead in space in one of the infinite numbers of trans-system voids. That made it rather weird to find and feel from the other side of the Curtain, unlinked to a star as it was. There was no eddy heralding its presence, it was moving freely with the flow instead of tearing at it like a greedy shadow such as a star's reflection did in the Deep. But the one good thing about its strange choice of location was that it meant Out Falling right next to the docks possible, and that there was no need for long in-system drops or wastes of time of other natures like compromising with jumpy Inner Colonies ops personnel.

Upon docking, we had been told that a small section of the station immediately next to our berths had been altered so that temperature, atmospheric pressure and gravity were more easily bearable for delicate human bodies. For a few minutes, Fi and I had entertained the fantasy of an oxygen and nitrogen environment, but the Nyah's concession to human frailty had stopped short of altering their repellant methane and sulfur atmosphere. Still, all in all they had done more to accommodate us than an Earth-registered station would ever have done for them.

It was about time for Fi to be done with her shower. All right, I whistled to myself as I started the long undocking sequence. Griffin would operate on automatic through most of the tedious process, releasing docking clamps and receiving instructions from the Nyah equivalent of station ops. Fi couldn't be too put out with me for starting early: instruments showed that Pegasus had also started its own undocking process. She must have timed it, judging as accurately as ever the exact moment when I'd have exhausted what little patience I had in me.

"Lokiiii." The low, threatening grumble filled Griffin's deck just as the jumpship lurched, almost imperceptibly. The face of a rather pissed-off Fi popped into my viewscreen without even a by-your-leave, and never mind that I was busy fastening my jumpship with not much more than boxers on me. Despite the embarrassing situation, I burst out laughing when I noticed that Fi's hair was dripping wet and that she had draped a towel around her. "It's not funny, curse your hide!" she growled. Then a thin smile curled up the corners of her mouth, and she added, "There's a Nyah gentleman who wants to talk to you. Some sort of station official, I gather, and he wanted to reach the pilot. Since you're the lead sail, I'm transferring him to you," she looked down on her own control board, "now."

"Fi, wait--" Too late, of course. Her image was at once replaced with that of a very much dignified Nyah, who watched in silence while I zipped my jumpsuit closed. Damn Fi, when the mood came upon her, she was even worse than I was. Refocusing my attention on the viewscreen, I gave a polite bow--or at least what I hoped passed as one in the Nyah's many eyes.

"Sir," I told it, "we're starting undocking maneuvers. Is there anything we can do for you?" It was wiser to stick to standard or simple sentences, because our automatic translators' efficiency was somewhat shaky--as were the Nyah's.

"The goods you carry," it said, a slight hiss accompanying the translator's mechanic voice, "are expected." It shifted left and right on the screen, its seven secondary limbs dangling on its sides, as if it felt uncomfortable, or unbalanced--but then the Nyah always looked like there balance was irremediably compromised with that odd number of limbs. The sight sure was a distressing one, no matter what the Nyah's current behavior might mean.

"We know," I nodded. "The Takeda clan will receive them without fail."

"They are expected," the alien being repeated, and this time its movements acquired a certain jerky quality that gave rise to a queasy feeling in my gut. Had there been an emphasis on "expected"? "The delivery must not be late."

"It won't be," I assured it, more than puzzled at the Nyah official's weird behavior. They were used to dealing with Azure Traverse jumpships, and they knew we kept the bargains we struck.

"We must request you skip your halt on--" static followed, the Nyah name for Vega most likely, since it was the only stop we had scheduled for this run besides the necessary halt on Edge for supplies, "and go on directly to--" again, static, as the automatic translator choked on what had to be the Nyah name for Achernar.

A change of schedule?

A modification of our planned route?

And missing at stop at a station where we were expected? Not only was it outrageous, but what was more it didn't make sense. True, we weren't supposed to pick up anything there, nor was there cargo to unload, but--this was highly unusual. The Nyah were logical, reasonable beings. They didn't make wild requests out of the blue or on a whim like the Dwellers, they stuck to known routes and plans. So why this, and why request us to make a long, difficult Dive all the way from Edge to Achernar?

Unable to solve the particular riddle, I pursed my lips. "You will be compensated," the Nyah official added, still trapped in that strange, sickening dance. "We have granted your ships free docking at--" more Nyah names of Nyah stations. Edge might even be among them.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, I heaved out a sigh. "Might one ask why?" I didn't expect an answer, or at least not a comprehensible one.

Static again, that the translator identified as the same gibberish as earlier--Vega, then. "--authorities have closed the local jumpgate. All outbound traffic is stopped."

"What?!" Traffic stopped at Vega? It was--

"They are searching the system. Two jumpships are lost--"

Jumpships. Lost. At Vega.

"What jumpships?!" I snarled. "Do you have names?!"

The Nyah official went very still. Clangs resounded throughout Griffin's hull as docking clamps started being released, and once more the jumpship lurched, harder this time. "Names?" I repeated in the sudden silence, struggling to keep my voice calm. Jumpships were never lost--couldn't be lost. Accidents at stations were impossible, and Out Fall as well as In Dive were simply--

"Basilisk and Chimaera."

I stepped back and fell more than I sat down on my seat. The names were real, and they indeed formed a team. If jumpships ever were to fall prey to a storm in the Deep, it was true that the pair would be lost. One jumpship couldn't ride the currents alone, it was the one law at the core of our lives. But this.... "Yong and Nico," I heard myself say in a blanched voice.

"Will this be possible?" the Nyah abruptly asked. It had started its crazy dance again. It didn't know, I thought distantly. It didn't understand how terrible were the news it had just given me. It was concerned that its goods would be delivered on time, nothing more.

In the solitude of Griffin's deck, I felt like laughing, and nodded instead. "Yes." With that, I ended the communication, and opened a channel toward Pegasus.

"Fi!" I called urgently. She came jogging into her own deck and appeared on the screen. She had donned her own jumpsuit, and looked ready enough.

"I'm here, Loki," she said, quiet.

Focused.

As always, she had picked up the disturbance my emotions in turmoil had triggered. A sad little smile came to the lips of my reflection in the monitor. "We're skipping the stop in Vega," I told her softly. "They've closed all outbound traffic there to allow them to search the system. Basilisk and Chimaera are lost." There was no way to break those news to her gently--none.

Fi bowed her head, and I saw tremors shake her shoulders, ever so slightly. Then she looked up at me. "I hear you," she nodded. "We must go, Loki. Now!" she hissed, her hazel eyes set on me, murky.

"I agree." I bit my lower lip. "Brace yourself and shift to emergency undocking procedures. I'm warning station ops." Just before she could shut down the communication channel, I added, "And, Fi, we're not stopping on Edge either. Once we In Dive, there's no Out Falling again until we reach Achernar." It would be awfully long and hard, but there was no pausing, no halting before we reached a friendly port where we could hear more news, try to understand and grieve in the company of loved ones. Fi gave me another nod, and I switched channels to reach N-ay-si's station ops.

All around me, clangs coursed through Griffin's hull, and the jumpship trembled as its powerful engines came online.

End of Chapter 2.

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