As for updates, here’s what’s happening.  I’ve been doing a lot of stuff at various websites, and have started to get myself in a rhythm of getting things done.  Along with Matt as an artist, I’ve brought on an editor to start getting my work ready for primetime.  She’s just getting into it, so I’m waiting to continue until she’s had time to start taking a look at it.

The very next project as far as Spheric is concerned is an expansion of The Ire of Mandala.  I am going to expand the prequel story to fit as a stand-alone, and will be submitting it to short-story locales in an attempt to have an official first print publication.

Thanks for putting up with me while this goes on.  Everything is coming together.  The artwork and the editing continue.  Soon, all of us will be on the same page, and then I can start writing.  Here I come, publication!

Take a look at it, and leave some comments for him!

~Dan

But as to which characters should be drawn, I’d like your opinion!  These will most likely not be colored, just black and white renditions for now.  Depending on how they turn out, I may decide to have more done or what.

So, in the poll below, I have a number of character choices.  Pick the top three you want to see drawn up!  I will leave the poll open until I am ready to give top three choices to the artist.  Then, I’ll let the artist render them as he/she sees fit, based solely on the environment in the novel so far.

Thanks for your readership!

~Dan

Because you go nowhere if you don’t go forward
And driving backwards makes no sense.
Just as much effort turns the car around
But then go forward, just THAT way.

Don’t give up the distance you’ve travelled,
Don’t give up the progress you’ve made.
Let the mileage add up behind you
Until your exit sign shows you your way.

So, I introduce to you “Into The Current,” by Tianna Lee.

I told him not to do it.  I told him to let her go.  I warned him that bad things would happen if he tried to keep her in his life, if he did not move on.  But he did not listen to me, and he paid for it.  Was I surprised?  No, everyone ended up the way he did—broken, trampled, in pieces, and dead to the world.  It had happened so many times, and I always tried to warn them.  But nobody ever listened to me.

* * * * *

The Tuesday morning sun blinded me as I woke from a dream that I can no longer recall.  A gentle breeze rustled my hair as I stared out the window, which I left open the night before.  Answering the loud meowing, I turned to my left expecting to see Nickels.  I found her paw instead.  She was playing with my hair, but I knew it was the wind the first time.

“Go, Nickels,” I grumbled.  Nickels swatted at my bangs in response.  I tried to roll over, get out of the bright morning shining in through my gaping window, but she prevented much movement on my part.  She swatted again.  Her tail tickled my shoulder as she swatted a third time.  My arms flew up and grabbed her, flipping her on her back as I rubbed her belly playfully.  It was nothing short of bliss as I sat in bed, still groggy but bent over her, laughing while she purred.

“Oh, Cam.  Finally awake, huh?” I spun around to find Joey leaning against the door.  His weight was grinding the doorknob into the wall again because of the lack of doorjambs in our apartment.  He had a habit of leaning on the door instead of the frames like most people would.  I always kind of liked the bronze scuff marks on my wall.

“Yeah,” I said, “sorry we can’t all be early birds like you.” I rolled my eyes at him.  His soft chuckle filled my room.  Nickels immediately jumped down from the bed, rushing to him and stretching out at his feet.  Nickels had always liked me, but she liked Joey more.  Everyone liked Joey more. 

Especially me.  They say that most people you know before college won’t be around for long, but it has been five years.  It was just how we were.  We were dependent on the other, making our lives as one.  At least, that was how I felt about him.  I built my life around him; I needed him like no one else did.

“So, how’s the weather?”  Joey asked.  He always asked questions that did not need answering.  He did not do it to be annoying; it was how he started conversations, and after five years, I learned how to do things his way.

I flipped my hair out of my face, turning dramatically toward the beautiful view out my window and back to him before saying, “Looks awful.” 

He smiled.  “I thought we could spend the day in town.”

I nodded.  He was smiling, but Joey always smiled.  He was having problems with his girlfriend.  I could see his pain beyond his stupid grin.  Not that he was trying to cover it up; he just liked smiling.

It took no time to get ready to leave; our life was simple like that.  I grabbed my denim jacket, Joey grabbed his wallet, and we headed to the door.  Nickels followed at our heels like she always did.  Joey ran a hand across her back as he grabbed his shoes.  She purred and rubbed against his leg.  Then, we left.

It would be the last time that Joey saw her, our cat that he loved so much.  Nickels always missed him when he was gone.

* * * * *

We ended up at a corner café, big enough that it always had at least a few customers in, but small enough to maintain its relaxed atmosphere. Joey liked to go there once in while. We’d been there a couple of times before, on days off and some weekends. He only ever took me to that café, though, and that’s what made it special.

It was always pretty quiet inside, no matter how many families or businessmen were seated, and it was easy to hear everything that anybody said.  But mostly, everyone kept to themselves.  There were some tables outside, but Joey preferred to stay indoors, even on nice days; he liked to watch the little TV they had in the kitchen that was always tuned in to the news channel.  I never liked TV much, except for what Joey watched.

We ordered something to drink and took a table in the back corner near the kitchen, the same as every other time.  I drank warm milk, rich and smooth and lightly sweet on its own; Joey had lemonade.  He was already staring at the small screen past the counter.  A police car and a group of people were shown crowding a ditch in front of a house the next county over, and the reporter said something about a young woman’s body being found earlier that morning, an apparent murder.  Shots of friends and family mourning her unfortunate end took up the newscast.  I shrugged it off.  Just one less demon for the world to deal with, if you ask me.

I looked back to Joey.  He removed the cheap plastic lid from his cup and took a sip.  “It’s kind of pointless, isn’t it? I don’t believe in angels because of things like that.”

“I used to think that I was an angel, and that’s why I was misunderstood.  Too much of a failure to belong to Heaven, too good to be human like the rest.  I thought that if I was here, I must have a purpose.  I must have the power to do something for other people, something to make the world a better place.”

“But what, then you realized that there’s no hope for the world? You saw how ugly of a place it is down here and gave up, huh?” Joey was looking in my direction, but not looking at me.  He always seemed to look through me, or stare off at the horizon, like he knew something that I kept passing over. 

“Something like that,” I replied.  He always knew how to end a conversation, even when he did not mean to.  But that was okay, because the silence usually held more than the words did anyway. 

We spent the day walking through the streets of the city and the local parks, things that brought peace to our lives.  We had grown up in that city, and it always held a special place in Joey’s heart.  But even when we traveled, he never seemed unhappy; it was just his nature.  He always had an air about him, as if he did not have a care in the world.  But I knew better.  Joey was in constant pain, for everyday, he had to watch the world sink deeper into the filth it was becoming.  But he kept on believing until the end.  He was the seeker of the last light on earth, but too late.  The souls of humanity had already grown dark, and there was no flame of virtue left for him to rejoice in.

That night, he found out that his last girlfriend had been no better.  She was just as deceptive, just as sinful as all the rest.  Joey was a romantic who never got angry.  To cry was his only release from the agony of repeated disappointment.  He slumped down his chair as he detailed her treachery, but I had not listened to his words.  I knew that story all too well, so it did not matter what exactly she had done.  The question was how soon he would stumble across another potential tyrant of his will who would further crush his purpose.

That was why he should never have trusted any of them.  Joey saw the world as a terrible place, and because of his philosophy, he would think he had finally found some good in the world.  He would always let them into his life, then he would come home like that one night.  Every time.  Yet every time, he would meet somebody new, and the cycle would eat him up again.  I was his release; as long as I was the only one in his life, he was free from those hideous chains.  I wish he would have realized that and saved himself from such undeserved anguish.

Tears fell down his flushed cheeks, leaving dark spots on his cotton tee.  I rested my hand gently on his trembling shoulder, unsure of what words could fill the emptiness that his hope had drained from his heart.  It is okay, Joey, I thought, I’ll end your pain.  He would not have to deal with the hate and betrayal of the rest of humanity anymore.

He drew in a quick breath and his body jerked backward against the chair.  His expression was blank for a moment, frozen between surprise and disorientation.  My knuckles were already hot from how tightly I gripped the knife in my hand. 

“I love you, Joey,” I cooed, caressing his cheek as I stared into his gold-tinted eyes.  “I love you more than anyone.  I only want the best for you.” I plunged the blade deeper, his blood leaking out onto my fingers.  His warmth, his passion, and his life: all I ever wanted flowed into my hands.  I wanted him to know that it was going to be all right; I wanted his final thoughts to be of the escaping of this pitiful world that had nothing left for him.  I leaned in close to him and whispered, “You can finally reach the heaven you deserve.”

His voice was as calm as it always was when he spoke his words.  “Silly Cam… The only heaven and hell is the one we’re living right now.” Joey smiled, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh, choking on his final breaths.  “If only I could have been enough to make you understand…” he coughed, and his body went limp in my arms.

My world lay motionless at my feet.  I had done everything I could to better his life.  I even got rid of the scum that polluted it.  Now I had ended it by my own hands, but nobody could know.  They would not understand if they found us like that.  Joey and I had to go on one final trip together. 

I brought out the large suitcase that we purchased a few months back and folded him into it.  My jacket concealed the blood on my clothes well enough in the darkness.  I wheeled him to the door and slipped my sneakers on.  Nickels’ meow echoed in the room behind me; I figured it would be fitting for her to come along.  She would not get to see Joey anymore after our trip was over.  I opened the door to the car, but changed my mind.  Joey had always loved this town; it was only fitting to respect him by walking to his final resting-place. 

The three of us made our way to the bridge in the middle of town.  Nobody went out at five in the morning.  I had always found that strange because dawn is when the town looks the most beautiful.  I threw my legs over the railing and set Joey on top of it, next to me.  Nickels pawed at my leg, so I smiled at her.  I waited until the orange rays on the horizon lit the town with a patient glow, just like Joey.  Then, I clutched the suitcase to my chest.

And together we flew into the current below.

With the sun well past its peak, Fenix sat at one of the tables littering around what was left of the stage from Festival. Stemming from an idea of Danni’s, a cafeteria of sorts had been opened. Until everyone was back in their homes, and able to cook for themselves, the most efficient use of supplies was to have the village women set up campfires and cook meals for the village all at once. After seeing all of the faces present, Fenix realized that it was an even better plan than it had originally sounded. Everyone eating together kept those who had lost loved ones in better spirits. Children played in the aisles between tables, and although it was still rare, the occasional laugh or chuckle from villagers echoed quietly in the somber late afternoon.

The village itself was in much better condition than the previous day. Men and women tired through the night once again to clear away rubble, sorting it between that which could be reused and that which could not. Any who may have arrived at the village while travelling today still saw a village in ashes, but would be impressed if they had seen it just a few days ago.

Even in spite of their loss, Fenix felt the village was doing well. He was proud of how easily the villagers were able to turn to and console one another. There were those still in shock, whether from the sight of what had happened or from the loss of a loved one, and Fenix could not blame them. But they were not alone. And for a village that could not offer much more than someone to listen, it gave everything it had.

He was also surprised at himself. Once, he had wished for adventure, for valiant fights of warriors defeating evil enemies. Looking back at himself, he was proud he had not gone and found somewhere to hide. He could understand Captain Ternagis being unaffected by the surroundings of death, having been in the King’s Militia, but not Fenix. He felt a pang of guilt as he secretly admitted to himself: the reason lay in the fact that none of his family had been lost in the ordeal.

“There’s really no point in cooking it if you aren’t going to eat it while it’s still hot.”

Fenix blinked from his thoughts and looked up at Captain Ternagis, staring down at him, holding a plate in his hands. Each day, Fenix noticed that the Captain was looking older and older, as if he had held off aging for years, and now his body was rushing to catch up. But then, no one looked their best, recently. “Oh, Captain. I—I’m sorry. This is the first time since the Explosion that I wasn’t needed for something right away. It’s the first chance I have had to think.”

Ternagis nodded silently and slid onto a seat across from Fenix. He laid his meal in front of him: several of the chickens’ eggs and some diced potatoes, both of which had been provided by Terov’s farm. Ternagis lowered his fork, pierced one of the steaming potatoes, and raised it. He blew on it softly, and placed it into his mouth. He considered Fenix as he chewed.

Fenix looked down at his own food. He had to force himself to eat, mechanically. He had no appetite, but he had not eaten since earlier the previous day. He had been stopping to make sure everyone else was being taken care of, receiving food and the like, that he had not focused on himself. Fenix wondered: what was the food supply like, anyways? He asked as much of the Captain.

Ternagis grunted. “It’s like Terov’s an entirely new man. He’s been working feverishly at the farm, him and the other hands out there, bringing everything in they can. They’re bringing in a cart or two a day instead of per week. He wants everything the village may need on hand in the shop, giving it away.”

Fenix nodded, and honestly, he was impressed. Terov was the friendliest man when you needed a favor, but the stingiest man when you needed a deal. Right now, Tel needed friends, not deals.

“And he removed the locks so anyone could get what they needed, even when he’s gone.”

Fenix choked. Turning to cough, he wheezed over the ground. When he could grasp air, he barked, “The lock?” That was a feature of Terov that was common knowledge: his shop was an impregnable fortress while he was not at it.

“Don’t give him too much credit. He had mentioned several times before we held council that we needed to discuss his losses. He had already been helping with some of his stock of foodstuffs, but only after Xia announced that he would be repaid through removed taxes did he become as eager as he is now.”

Fenix nodded. That sounded right.

“Besides, with Harvest as enormous as it was this year, he would’ve been able to donate enough for the village and then still turn a profit without any help from Xia at all. But, with a surplus like that, some of it was bound to rot. The more he can give away, the more he can recoup from the taxes.”

Fenix smirked. “Now that sounds like the Terov I know.”

Ternagis shrugged and cleaned another potato off his fork. “You cannot blame the man; he has many people’s salaries to pay for their work at the farm.” He put his fork down, and crossed his arms, gazing at Fenix. “Everyone has their loyalties, and their responsibilities. How would you expect the village to function, if we did not honor those?”

It was innocent enough, but Fenix knew the last part was meant to dig into him, and put up his hands, as if to defend himself. “My responsibility is to the people here. They need help, and they need Cerberus and his conflicts gone. I know what my responsibilities are; that’s why you picked me.”

Ternagis’ voice stayed neutral, as if addressing the weather. “And they need Xia gone too?”

Fenix gripped his fork in a tight fist and lowered his eyes. But he did not hesitate in answering. “If that’s what keeps them safe.”

“I chose you because you seemed well-rounded, boy.” Ternagis growled, and Fenix jumped. “You knew when the rules needed to be followed, but you ignored them as you chose. You knew when you needed to stick to your friends, and when to speak against them. When your responsibilities conflicted, you knew something had to give, made a choice, and you followed the path you chose with no shame at all.”

Fenix’s eyes glinted defiantly, meeting his mentor’s gaze. “What is so different about now? I had to make a choice, and I did.”

Ternagis leaned forward. “This time, the shame is written all over your face.”

Fenix opened his mouth… and stopped. Fenix knew there was nothing more painful he had done than his actions that morning, and he felt no pride in it.

“Look at what Xia has been through, boy. No less than anyone else in the village, sure, but throw in Cerberus and that…” Ternagis, as tough and stout as he was, still spoke nervously when referencing the events surrounding Cerberus and Xia. “Who has he got to depend on, now?”

“He has Danni.”

Ternagis barked a laugh. “As if there’s not enough tension there as it is. A man needs more than that, Fenix. He needs someone who can stand beside him, catch him when he falls, and fight for him when he’s down. A man needs the piece of mind that it isn’t him or nothing.”

“Well, Cerberus is there.”

“Boy, do you really believe that?” If Ternagis was not upset before, his eyes truly flamed now. “Young as he may be, Cerberus is a soldier, and he has a mission in mind. Frankly, if not for their common…connection…I’m not sure Cerberus would be tolerating Xia along for the ride. And damned if you think Cerberus would not sacrifice him to achieve his objectives.”

First, Fenix realized that the Captain was really angry with the situation.

Second, Fenix realized that the Captain was incredibly more insightful than he originally thought.

Then, Fenix realized that the Captain was right.

Ternagis saw it in his face. “You see, Fenix? You can’t abandon him now. The other townspeople, they need someone, but they have many someones, all working together. Xia, he needs you.” He poked a finger on Fenix’s forehead.

Fenix frowned, rubbing his forehead as if the Captain’s finger had left a smudge. “What about the Council? What will they say if I just up and leave?”

“They’re wondering why you’re not gone yet.”

* * * * *

In short order, Fenix packed a small bag. He stood at the doorway of his room, shared by two others whose homes no longer stood, and gave a final glance to his militia uniform, spread out on his bed. He had enjoyed wearing it, and it had fit him. Not just the clothes, but how others looked at him while he wore it, the feelings it gave him knowing he was an important part of his hometown. He absently ran a finger on the sword at his waist.

Fenix kept wondering how long a trip this would be, but something told him it was not going to be a quick one. He was not sure why; for all he knew, Cerberus would defeat—or capture, or kill…or whatever he was supposed to do to Tailz—and Xia would find the answers he was looking for. Xia would say “it will never happen again,” and they’d all come home by the end of the week.

Fenix turned and walked down the corridor, through the family room, and out the front door. If only we would all be so lucky.

Walking along the path, Fenix drew the sword he had received on Acceptance. It was a long blade, straight and double-edged. The hilt seemed plain upon first glance, but when Fenix inspected closely, he made out the tiny gems that made a small pattern on one side. Small rubies, shaped in the form of the fenix, the legendary flaming creature blessed with rebirth that he had been named for. He rubbed his thumb over it. When he was born, he made not a sound, blue and not breathing. At the last moment, with his mother panic-stricken and doctor ready to give up, little Fenix took a deep indrawn breath and let out an ear-shattering wail. His mother named him after the firebird, for coming back to her. He sighed and sheathed his blade.

In the little time it took for Fenix to pack his things and arrive at the horses’ picket lines, the rest of the Council were already there. Coole was brushing down Fenix’s sorrel, Ember, his back turned to the path. The Council quieted as they noticed Fenix approaching, and stood, waiting. Fenix cast his eyes around, puzzled. “What’s all this?”

“Well,” his father began, still facing the horse, “we wanted you to know you were doing the right thing.” He dropped the thick grass he was using to brush Ember and dusted his hands. He turned and nodded sternly at his son. “We’re scared for Xia. Who knows how he’s feeling, after losing his father, and then dealing with…this.” A growl vocalized from one corner of the group. Fenix’s father nodded towards it, and Fenix realized it was Master Lants. “And Danni too. They could be in danger, Fenix. They need someone to talk sense to them, remind them of home. Xia does not need to be involved with Cerberus any more than necessary, and Danni less so. We need you to make sure they stay safe, and not used as Cerberus sees fit.”

Fenix took this in as the Council nodded silent agreement. “That’s why you kept Ember here.”

Coole nodded. “I figured you’d might want to catch up at one point.”

Unconsciously thumbing the fenix emblem on his sword at his waist, he nodded. “Alright. Let me get a move on, I don’t have much daylight left.”

“In a moment,” the Captain said, stepping forward. He had in his hands an oddly shaped sword. Not quite as long as a longsword, with a double-edged blade much wider than his own sword.

Fenix recognized the falcon-shaped hilt. “That came from one of the swords the Mayor had on his wall.” Fenix swallowed and corrected himself. “The old Mayor, I mean.” Then it dawned on him. “Xia’s father.”

Ternagis nodded. “We found the hilt a couple days ago, on the outskirts of town. It was Danni’s idea to put a real blade on it and present it to Xia.”

“Why did Danni not say anything when they left?”

Ternagis shrugged. “It was not finished yet. The smithy could not smelt a brand new sword, but he was able to salvage most of an older one, and came up with this blade.” He handed the sword, hilt-first, to Fenix. “Make sure Xia gets it.”

“Right.” Fenix took the odd blade, and pulled it from its sheathe. The blade was slightly curved twice, a sinuous snake ending in a deadly point. The falcon hilt was impressive, the blade seemed to protrude from the bird’s beak, and it had four smooth holes, two on each side. It seemed to be its eyes: two on each side of its head. Shaking his head in admiration, Fenix sheathed the blade, and tucked it through his belt opposite his own sword.

As Fenix mounted Ember, Master Lants approached the horse and wrung his hands. “Please,” he begged quietly. “Bring them home safe, boy. Please bring home my daughter.” Fenix nodded assurance as he strapped his bag behind his saddle. With the sun not quite ready to set, Fenix kicked off, dashing down Tel’s central path towards the southern gate.

Fenix made what he deemed to be good time, pushing Ember as hard as he dared before the night fell, knowing he’d only have a few hours to travel. He rode until long after the sun fell beneath the horizon, slowing as the light evaporated from the sky until he was at a walk in the dim twilight. He stopped only when he did not trust his eyes to guide the horse safely in the dark any further, then slept on the ground until first light saw him off again.

He spent the daylight alternating between jogging alongside his horse and riding him ragged, stopping only briefly at each of the watering holes along the path. Fenix was determined to make it to Srynn before stopping. It was not until the sun had risen and fallen again that a weary Fenix trudged along the road within sight of the wall surrounding Srynn.

A single guard leaned against the closed metal gate in the wall. A lit torch sat in a standpost opposite the soldier, shedding a sphere of light that seemed clearly definable in the dark night. As Fenix approached close enough for the flame’s light to flicker across his face, the soldier lazily stood. He nodded at Fenix, and reached to dip his pen in the small inkwell on a wooden stand. “State your name.” He said blandly. “Where ya from?”

Fenix recognized Srynn’s procedure of documenting those who came in late at night. “Fenix Down,” he said. “I just arrived from Tel.”

The guard dropped his pen. “Tel, you say?” Coughing, the night watchman shook his head, and reached down to retrieve his writing utensil. Pursing his lips, he looked between Fenix and the pen, considering.

Fenix tilted his head. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Oh!” The guard started as if goosed. “Ah, not at all! Please! Ah, come in.” The guard turned, and banged three times on the gate. A chain behind the wall started to churn loudly, and the doors slowly opened, wide enough to allow the horse and its rider through.

Fenix nodded, perplexed, and guided Ember forward. As he passed through, he saw no one save the crank operator. The town entrance was completely empty. Then a thought occurred to him, and he turned to address the man who had taken his name. “Aren’t you going to write my name down?”

Eyes wide, the guard nodded, and spun quickly, darting back through the gate. “Of course, of course. Right away.” His voice faded as he disappeared around the corner out of sight.

Fenix looked at the beefy crank operator, who gave a massive shrug and began heaving the turnstile, lurching the large gate closed.

Several of the nighttorches were lit, tracing the cobbled main road into town. Standing from the gate, Fenix could follow the road with his eyes until it disappeared into the mesh of streets and buildings that made the center of the city. When it was daylight, from here, Fenix could even see the opposite city wall on the horizon, but the lights of the torches and buildings downtown made Srynn quite a pleasurable sight at night.

The second torch, easily seen from the gate, and larger than the rest, gave the King Faerth’s Inn its friendly glow. The inn’s proprietress had always been like a second mother to the children of Tel. For as long as Fenix could remember, “Mother Jax” had housed the Telians whenever Mayor Townsend had to make trips out to Srynn. Xia always invited Fenix to tag along, and Jax insisted that Mayor Townsend bring as many children as possible. No matter what time of day, whether breakfast, lunch, or dinner, the children would be treated to freshly made pancakes with huge dollops of fresh cream and butter, and dressed in the sweetest syrup.

Led on by the warm smell of pancakes created by his mind, Fenix grinned and hopped down from Ember, leading him to the ties out front. The lights were still on inside the inn, which was not surprising. Srynn’s inns did not close their common room until the early morning hours sometimes, not at all like the Inn in Tel. In Tell, the Inn closed its doors as soon as the last shard of sun disappeared behind the horizon. Tying the sorrel off, Fenix climbed the few stairs and entered the Faerth’s common room.

Open as it may have been, there was no one present save the staff. Two young men, no older than Fenix, were bent over wiping tables. Their bodies drooped noticeably, exhausted from a demanding day. A third was sweeping the floor. None of them so much as made eye contact with the new arrival. From nowhere discernible, a melodious voice rang. It was tinged with tiredness, but sweet-sounding nevertheless. “Sorry, but the kitchen’s closed up tight; just rooms for the night.”

Fenix’s grin cut his face in two. “That’s just as well, Mistress Jacqueline. A room would suit me well for the evening, but I would ask that you show me to my friends, first.”

A surprised face, just hinting at an age around his mother’s, popped out from the kitchen, and soft blue eyes cast about the room. When they landed on Fenix, a warm smile introduced the rest of Jax to the common room. Her dress was a deep ocean blue, contrasting the sky in her eyes. She seemed to float across to him. “What a surprise!” She clapped her hands happily around his. “What brings you all the way out here, Fenix? And so late! You look exhausted.”

Fenix grinned as the mother in Mother Jax enveloped him whole. He had already been weighed and measured, packaged and tagged. Shaking his head, Fenix replied, grasping her hands momentarily before dropping his arms to his sides. “It’s a long story. I’ve been riding nonstop to get here. My horse is tied out front.” Jax gave a stern look and a quick motion to one of the men clearing off the tables, who nodded and quickly ducked outside to tend to Ember. Her smile sprang back to her face—Fenix wondered if it had ever disappeared—and beckoned him to continue. “But before that, I need to talk to Xia and the others.”

A touch of confusion drew Jax’s smile into a frown. She tilted her head slightly. “But, Xia is not here, Fenix. As a matter of fact, you’re the first of Telian blood I’ve seen through here in a quite some time.”

Fenix’s frown matched hers. “Really? They should have been here long before me.” His body filled with fear. His mind raced through other possibilities. Did Tailz find them along the way? Then he realized, she had said no one from Tel at all, recently. “What about Cheryl? She should have been here even earlier, days ago.”

Jax smoothed her dress, then placed her hands together in front of her. “No, Fenix, I’m sorry.” Her eyebrows drew down, matching her frown. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing, Fenix flexed his hands on the two swords belted at his waist. “No, please, do not apologize. I know Xia and Danni came this way, and if they’re not here, I fear something may be wrong. They could be in serious danger.” He turned and faced the door. “I have to go find them.”

A calm hand on his shoulder prevented him from dashing out. “Fenix,” Jax said softly, stepping beside him. “Danni too? What is going on?” When Fenix seemed at a loss on what to say, she continued. “Well, you cannot go tromping around Srynn after midnight, boy. I won’t allow it. Do you even have any clue where they are?”

Reluctantly, Fenix shook his head. Fenix did not notice how white his knuckles were, clenching the sword hilts in his grasp.

Jax did. “Fenix, earlier there was talk of a knife fight right outside at the gate, of all places, closer than you can throw a stone from here. If your friends are in trouble, you won’t help them by getting yourself hurt at night. Why don’t you stay here until morning? I won’t charge you. Then you can get up with the sun and look for your friends.”

Fenix tried to protest, but he could not think of a more reasonable suggestion. He turned and looked back at the cool cerulean concern gazing at him patiently. The woman exuded blue comfort. “Alright, Jax.” He let himself be led to the stairs at the back.

“Everything will be okay, Fenix. You’ll see.” Fenix almost believed her. “For now, let’s get you into a warm bed. Tomorrow, you can tell me what’s going on before you set out.” She playfully sniffed at him. “And, you can get a bath.”

* * * * *

Tossing the blankets off the bed, Fenix turned onto his right shoulder for the hundredth time. As exhausted as he was, he had opted to go directly to bed, but he started to regret not choosing to soak in a hot tub. He was worried about Xia. Well, of course he was worried about Danni and Deia too, if indirectly. They made up their own mind to follow Cerberus on this crazy trip. They had nothing to do with Fenix. He was not responsible for their actions. He turned and lay on his back.

Xia is not responsible for his actions? His mind softly chided him. Fenix answered it aloud. “I should have been more supporting, at the least.” Then, he sighed. His mother had always told him that if you spoke aloud to no one, that was a sign that your mind wanted a second opinion other than yours. Looking out the window, the only light was the soft glow of the street’s nighttorches. No one would be up at this hour. He twiddled his thumbs idly.

He recalled a memory. Years ago, Xia’s father had come to Srynn to help mediate a nasty dispute. One of the builders of Tel had been called out to put a new staircase into a wealthy man’s home in the city. Two weeks after the staircase was completed, the young daughter of the wealthy man fell down the full length of it. It turned out the top two stairs had collapsed in on themselves. The girl was close to death. Master Townsend stayed at the King Faerth’s, as usual, and brought Xia and Fenix with him.

Late one night, the children heard footsteps in the hall, and decided to investigate. Peeking carefully from their room, they sighted Xia’s father descending the stairs, and followed him. Stepping softly down the stairs, then creeping into the kitchen, the children came upon Master Townsend in a quiet conversation with Mother Jax over fresh milk poured by one of the kitchen staff.

Fenix pushed himself off the bed and grabbed one of the shirts from his saddlepack, tossing it on over his head. That night was the only time Fenix had ever seen the Mayor in tears. The two boys were peering from around the corner, and before too long, tears came to the man’s eyes. Jax had one of his hands in hers, consoling, and the night staff placed a hand on his shoulder. Xia, distraught at seeing his father crying, entered the kitchen, asking, “What’s wrong, Father?” Even Fenix had forgotten about not being allowed out of bed, and tagged along behind him. On seeing them, Jax quickly stood and put her hands on her hips, ready to scold them, but Xia’s father put a hand out to stop her. He wiped his eyes, stood from the table, and reached down to envelop his son in his arms. “You’re squeezing me too hard, Father.”

Fenix shook his head, clearing the reverie from his mind. He was standing at the door, holding the knob in his hand, unturned. Getting a warm cup of milk was a good idea, at the moment. He knew he felt like sleeping, but he also knew his mind would not let him, once he lay down. He turned the knob and pulled the door open. Two lanterns hung in the hallway, turned down low, shedding just enough light to make out the corridor. He was about to turn left, towards the stairs, when he noticed light coming under the last door in the other direction. Jax’s room. She had been up late enough as it was; he was surprised to see that she had yet to go to sleep. Hesitating briefly, he thought getting that second opinion would be more satisfying than the milk. Fenix approached the door, and knocked quietly.

A shuffle told him that she indeed was already up. The door opened partway; cool blue eyes regarded him. As they recognized him, the door pulled open the rest of the way, revealing a smiling, albeit tired-looking, face. The blue robe tied around her was not quite as deep a hue as the dress she had worn earlier, but still made Fenix contemplate when the last time he had seen the woman not wear blue was. “I guess neither of us are sleeping well tonight. What can I do for you?” She beckoned him into the room.

He walked in and sat in one of the chairs. Looking around the room, it had not seemed to change from the last time he had seen it. Jax never changed. “Just can’t sleep.”

Jax closed the door behind her and sat in the other chair facing Fenix. “I’m sorry, Fenix. I’m glad you came to see me though. I find a friend makes these types of things easier, being able to talk through what is eating you.”

“Jax?”

“Yeah?”

“When we came with Xia’s dad for that one dispute he had to do, with the girl who fell down the stairs…”

Jax nodded sadly, remembering.

“Why was he crying that one night?”

“Oh, Fenix,” Jax said, reaching forward and putting a hand on his knee. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Fenix shook his head. “No, not really. I only just thought about it.”

“Did he never tell you what happened? You two were pretty young back then.” Jax leaned back into her chair.

“No, not really. It never came up.”

Jax put her hands in her lap, and looked down at them. “Well, the truth of the matter, is that the little girl’s father killed her, and made it look to be a very tragic accident. Sam knew that, but he could not prove it.”

“Wait. She died? No one told us that.”

“Fenix, again, you were really young. Xia’s father did not have the heart to tell you anything more than a girl had gotten badly injured.” Then she paused, tilting an ear and listening. When Fenix tried to question her, she put up a finger, so he listened too. “Do you hear that?” She asked.

At first, Fenix dismissed it. It was just soft footsteps. Probably someone else moving around at night. Jax should be more familiar with that by now. Fenix looked at Jax, her head cocked to one side, still listening to the footsteps in the hallway. Jax would be more familiar with people up and about at night: she staffs a worker overnight for just that purpose! Fenix listened more closely to the footsteps.

Then he sat upright, and whispered softly. “There’s more than one person out there.”

Jax nodded and stood up. “I should check on it.”

Fenix stood up quickly and put his hands on her shoulders. “Wait, you don’t know what they’re doing yet.” Waving her to sit down, Fenix crept to the door, put his ear to it, and listened.

More feet scuffling. Then, silence. Then, low, fierce whispers.

A man’s low-pitched growl. “You said he was in here.”

A younger man’s higher voice. “He was! I swear. I made the room, I saw him.” Fear tinged his voice.

The slide of metal, as if from a sheathe. A grumble, from a mouth different than the first two. “We don’t have time for these games. Are we even sure?”

Yet another voice, familiar to Fenix’s ears. “Of course I’m sure! I watched him come in here, and the handler came out and took his horse.”

The low-pitched growl again. “Well, he isn’t here.” Another sound of a blade drawn.

A gasp. Slow steps followed the higher voice, even higher in stark terror. “Please, I tried, I did what I was told!”

The growl stepped forward towards the terrified voice. Fenix pictured a man brandishing a dagger. “Get in the room.”

The voice got just a smidge louder. “Please! I won’t say a word! Please!”

Fenix’s hand went to his side before he realized that he left both swords in his room. Looking around Jax’s room, he whispered sternly. “Weapon? Blade? Anything?” Jax shook her head, her eyes widening. Cursing softly, he realized that fighting outnumbered was not on the list of smart-things-to-do. He needed another plan before someone got hurt.

Then, Fenix’s eyes lit on the curtain rod. Leaping onto Jax’s bed, Fenix snatched it down, letting the curtains hanging from it fall off. He jumped back down, briefly pausing to say, “Sorry for the door.” Jax could only blink before Fenix leveled his shoulder and dove into the door, crashing it into the hallway.

Time became molasses. Fenix stood atop the door he had just been listening through. At the other end of the corridor, next to the staircase, sat one of the young men Fenix had seen downstairs when he arrived. Tears ran down his face, and his hands were raised as a shield towards the three men standing over him.

The guard who took Fenix’s name at the gate was one of them, out of uniform. One was short with an enormous hooked nose. The third was what made Fenix regret, momentarily, that he had jumped out here so rashly. He was one of the largest men Fenix had seen, and a memorable one at that, though Fenix could not decide if the man was openly sneering, or just naturally ugly. Or both.

All four men were staring openly at Fenix. In the second that had passed after the door landed and surprised the current occupants of the inn’s hallway, Fenix sized up the situation. The man on the floor pointed and said, “See! There he is!” Then, as the others looked to young man, Fenix moved quickly. The curtain rod swung down, and then sideways, clipping the guard above his ear. The guard yelled out and dropped to the floor.

Ugly and Hooknose both jumped back a step, flashing their blades at Fenix. “You’re gonna need more than a stick, boy.” said Hooknose.

Fenix waited.

Then, one door opened. Then two. Several people entered the hallway, demanding what all the commotion was about. Each man and woman to come out first looked at Fenix standing on the door in the hallway, focusing on him with their anger at being woken up. Then gazes turned to the other end, which resulted in either the trailing off of complaints, or a quick yell and diving back into their rooms.

Fenix lowered the curtain rod, looking over the heads of those still in the corridor. “You gonna kill us all?”

Hooknose growled and backed up to the stairs. “Later, boy.” He pointed a finger at Fenix. Then he turned and clomped down the stairs. “Come on, Jif.” The tall man ducked into the stairs and followed after.

Heaving out a breath he only realized he was holding, Fenix propped the curtain rod against the wall and sagged visibly, cursing himself. What was I thinking?

Jax stepped out from the room. “Alright people, enough drama for the night. Sorry for the trouble; we’ll get these rabblerousers out of here.” As the guests obeyed, Jax planted herself directly above the guard, still on his knees holding his head and moaning quietly. “You.” She said sternly. “Get up.” When the guard moaned in answer, she reached down, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled. He jumped up with a cutoff yelp. Turning his head, she thrust him through the open door of Fenix’s room. The guard stumbled forward, crashing into the floor. Jax pointed a finger. “Go watch that.” Then she turned and tended to her employee, who had yet to move from his position on the floor.

Fenix walked into his room and closed the door behind him. Turning up the lamp, he looked at the guard more closely, and shook his head as he determined the man was indeed the same who took his name at the gate. Walking to the corner of the room, he picked up his sword and started belting it around himself. It was just dawning on him that they might have very well been coming for his life, and he did not feel as if he would be sleeping anytime soon. “What,” Fenix asked, “is all this about?”

The man wiped dusty brown hair from his face and frowned, ignoring the question.

“Well?” Fenix asked. Then a thought hit him, and he put a hand to his stomach. “Do you… do you know where my friends are? Others, from Tel?” Other than a bored glance, Fenix got no answer. The two men just stared at each other. A minute passed, maybe two. The lantern flame flickered wildly, as if a wind had given it cause to panic. Fenix squeezed the hilt of his sword firmly.

The man on the floor glanced at Fenix’s hand on his sword, then back up to his eyes. “You know,” he said, a calm sneer spreading over his face. “You have to let me go sometime. Soon, they’re going to notice I’m not where I should be, and they’ll come looking, asking questions. You don’t want them to find out you attacked one of the Guard, do you?”

Fenix sighed, and dropped his hands to his sides.

The guard smiled.

The door abruptly opened, and both the guard and Fenix jumped simultaneously. Jax appeared from behind the thin wooden door as quickly as it made space for her. “Now tell me, what in all of whichever hell you believe in is going on tonight?”

When no one said a word, she sighed angrily and glanced around the room. “Well, no matter. We don’t have that kind of thing here. Raising metal under my roof!” She caught sight of Xia’s sword still propped in the corner, and purposefully strode over to it. She roughly raised it, and tore off and tossed the sheathe across the room. She admired the blade quietly. “We’ll just slit your throat and throw you out with the refuse.”

The threatened man’s eyes grew wide, but not as wide as Fenix’s. Fenix jumped in front of her, putting his hands around hers. “Jax, no one got hurt.”

Jax shrugged. “Not yet. But right now, either I kill him, or he goes out and does it to someone else. Best clean up the dirt under our noses.” She nodded satisfactorily and took another step across the room.

The guard jumped up, shocked, but Fenix backed up a step and held on to her. “Jax!” Fenix cried. “What is wrong with you?”

Her eyes met Fenix, but not with the caring and compassion of earlier. These eyes were lit with rage. “Boy, you step aside, and when I’m done, I’ll handle you for taking down my door.”

Fenix’s jaw dropped. “But—oof!” A swift upward jab from Jax brought the hilt of the sword into Fenix’s face, knocking him sideways. Landing on the bed, he put a hand to his chin, and stared at her, dumbfounded. He could only watch as the crazy woman approached the man cowering in the corner.

“Wait!” the guard called out. “You can’t do this! You’ll lose everything here.”

“Pfft.” Jax hissed. “There are no less than eight people who saw you in a scuffle just now. As far as anyone else knows, I sent you all outside to finish whatever fighting you brought into here. No one would be the least surprised to find out the next morning that you were the one who lost.” Jax raised the sword.

The guard turned pale white, hollow around the eyes. Fenix reached a hand out to try and stop her, even though she was out of reach, but before he could, the guard dropped to his knees. “Please, come on, let me go! We were not going to kill him. The other two that just left, their boss, he’s not here right now, but they said we better pick him up to be safe.”

Jax lowered her face into the man’s crying in front of her, holding the sword poised to strike. “What for?”

The guard shook his head. “Please! You have to believe me, I don’t know! The others from Tel, they were brought to the Srynn Hall. They said the Metson girl wasn’t needed, so she was taken to the dungeon. They said while their boss was gone, no one was going to go into the Srynn Hall, so we were going to take him to the prison.” He pointed at Fenix. “Honest! We weren’t going to kill him!” He pleaded, tears streaming, his hands clasped together.

Fenix stood, still holding his jaw, stupefied. “Who is their boss?”

“I don’t know. I never met him. He’s a retainer of the Lord Mensch, and we were told to obey him.”

Jax frowned at the man. “By the time I count three, if you are still in my sight, I’m going to kill you anyway. And if you ever come near my establishment again, I will make sure it is the last thing you ever see.” She frowned and stood back, leaving a clear path to the door. “One.”

Before she completed the word, his panicked footfalls down the stairs faded away.

Sighing, she tossed the sword onto the bed. “A messy business,” she said.

Fenix just stared.

“Sorry about the jaw, but consider it equal payment for my door. What was that for?”

“I’m sorry,” Fenix said. “Waking everyone up was the only option I had.”

“Oh, I know that, boy,” Jax laughed. “But couldn’t you have just slammed it really hard? I’m not made of money, you know.”

Not sharing her mirth, Fenix plopped onto the bed, staring at the floor.

“Oh, poor Fenix. What you just went through would be very difficult for anyone.” She sat next to Fenix, trying to console him.

Fenix shook his head, and looked her in the eye. “They have them. They have Xia and Danni.”

Jax’s mouth thinned to seriousness. “He said that the Lord Mesnch’s man took them.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did they do something wrong?”

“No!” Fenix exclaimed. “It just, it makes no sense. Mensch has nothing to do with this.”

“So they’re innocent?”

Fenix nodded.

Jax thought hard. Then she stood and faced him. “Sounds to me like you have a puzzle on your hands, young Fenix. You need more information to fill in the holes. Your friends are being held in the Srynn Hall, if what that filth said is true, which I believe so, and that means there is no easy way to see them unnoticed. But they also said another was in the prison.”

“He said it was the Metson girl. That would mean Deia.” Fenix rubbed his jaw unconsciously.

Jax glanced down at his sword. “You any good with that?”

Fenix nodded.

“Good. Now,” she said, sitting down. “You will tell me everything that is going on. Everything, mind you. Once I know what I’m getting into, I may be able to help you.”

* * * * *

Just a few hours later, in the early morning twilight, Fenix leaned against the wall of a small shop, three buildings down the street from the Srynn’s prison. At Jax’s insistence, he had done away with the clothes he had come to town in and dressed in the manner of the local farmers of Srynn: plain, worn workclothes covered with soft, brown woolen robes. The robes easily hid the swords sheathed on his belt, both his own sword and Xia’s Falconblade, and the robe’s hood helped to hide his face, lest he happened to run into the guard from earlier. The cobbled road held a few stragglers, mostly milling about until the shops opened to hone in on the best deals.

Jax was across the street, engaged in a delightful conversation with a shopkeeper. Apparently her pancake syrup was purchased from here, because from what Fenix could make from their words, that was the topic. From the way he greeted her, smiled charmingly, and stopped what he was doing to speak with her, it was clear they were old friends, at the least. Glancing down the street, Fenix sized up the dungeon’s entrance. No fewer than seven of Srynn’s uniformed Guard were standing at rest around the street, and Fenix supposed there were some inside, as well.

Turning his gaze back to Jax, he met eyes with her just briefly before she turned away from him, laughing at something the shopkeeper had said. Fenix looked away as well. It was important that no one connect the two of them in their mind. When all was said and done, Fenix was to be an innocent bystander, just like everyone else. He instead looked at everything but Jax. He watched a few birds fly overhead until he could not see them anymore. He smiled, and then laughed, at two young kids running circles around their papa. He returned a friendly nod to a young man who had cheerily waved to him. Since he was dressed similar, Fenix guessed he was one of the farmhands Jax spoke about. The city was nice enough, if you did not know what lurked beneath it.

That irked Fenix to no end, and tried to work it out in his head. He knew Tailz was involved, he knew it. But what Mensch had to do with that, he could not begin to guess. The thought of Tailz working for Mensch seemed unlikely. Then the Guard, following their orders blindly. It smelled of corruption, and that, while not all too common, was not unheard of either. But then, that led him full circle as he wondered what Tailz’ involvement in it was.

Barely stifling a gasp, Fenix turned his head away, pulling his hood down, leaving just enough to peer out its side. The two ruffians from the inn came stalking down the street towards the prison. Fenix watched as the tall one stood idly, letting the shorter one with the bent nose talk to the man guarding the door. Glancing back to the shop, Fenix was going to try and get Jax’s attention, but she was already looking down the road, still half-heartedly holding up her end of the conversation while the shopkeeper continued preparing for the day. He turned slightly, and watched the two goons go inside the prison.

Fenix felt his heart drop. This was going to be more difficult than he feared, but it was too late to turn back now. A second man had approached the shop and greeted Jax and the shopkeeper. Fenix tensed, and then stood from his leaning position. Smiling one moment, the newcomer whistled loudly the next, and half a dozen rundown, dirty-looking men came from all directions. Behind the shop, down the street—one even ran down the alley Fenix was standing in, passing him on the way. They all brandished swords and daggers. “Alright,” the man who had whistled announced loudly. “Give me the money chest, and we won’t have to hurt any one, you understand?”

That was Fenix’s cue. Acting like a farmhand caught in a bad place, Fenix put his hands up in front of him, and backed slowly away from the scene, down the street, towards the prison. Others on the street did the same, moving away from the trouble to not be caught up in it either. As he slowly moved, the contingent of Guard in front of the prison ran past him, waving their swords about and yelling for the thieves to drop their weapons. Fenix flinched as the band of robbers cheered joyfully as they raised their steel above their heads, then threw themselves amongst the guards.

Fenix, being far enough away, turned and began walking down the street away from the commotion. Two of the guards were left at the prison entrance, but before Fenix reached it, a cry for help sounded from behind him, and the guards opened the door and called inside for assistance. Then they drew blades and sped down the street. In quick succession, several others exited the prison and followed suit. Almost laughing with joy, Fenix sauntered over and entered through the open door.

He leapt through with his hands under his robes, ready to draw his swords, but to his relief, no one was in the entryway. They did not leave a single man behind. Glancing at the large metal door that led further into the dungeon, he saw an empty hook that he guessed the keys would have hung on. Judging from the fact that they had not left with the other guards, Hooknose and Ugly were in the dungeon already. Sure enough, the door was unlocked, and so Fenix passed into the dark dungeon, closing the door behind him with a loud clang.

The dungeon was musty and humid, and Fenix could barely see a pace in front of him. He made out the lantern stand next to the door, but the lantern had already been taken. He heard voices, faintly, so with his hands out in front of him, Fenix cautiously made his way through the dark. He snagged his foot only once before making it to where the corridor turned.

Looking down the new length of cells, Fenix could clearly make out the two thugs from earlier at the far end, one holding a lantern up and peering towards him. The light faded before it reached Fenix, and he realized they could not see him yet. He approached them slowly, wanting to be as close as he could before they noticed him. Hooknose also cautiously stepped forward, using the lantern as a brush, dashing away the darkness to reveal what lay behind it. Then, the light revealed Fenix standing in the corridor.

“Who are you?” Hooknose growled. “What do you want?”

Fenix decided to leave the hood down for now. They did not know who he was yet, and was hoping for as much surprise as he could. “I’ve come for the girl.”

Big Ugly drew his sword. “I’m afraid she belongs with us, you get it?

Glancing at the thin corridor, Fenix realized there would not be much avoiding a fight if they pushed for one, and Ugly was already stepping down the corridor. “Very well,” Fenix said, drawing his swords from beneath the robes. “Come then.”

Ugly answered with a vicious slash down towards Fenix’s head. Fenix barely leapt back to avoid it. Then he leapt again, and again, as his attacker growled with each swing. The fool was using all of his strength in his opening attack. Fenix stepped back until he saw the first bead of sweat on Ugly’s brow, glinting in the soft light of the lantern, then rose both of his swords in a cross to meet his opponent’s broadsword. The broadsword stopping before he expected it put a visible shock through Ugly’s arms, and Fenix capitalized on the moment, swinging his arms in succession. Ugly had a hard time seeing in the darkness, and could only move his sword enough to stop Fenix from drawing blood.

“Gah!” yelled Ugly under Fenix’s relentless attack. “I need more light!”

The lantern was being moved, and Fenix knew that he could not keep up this flailing attack, or he’d use up as much of his strength as Ugly had, and he’d lose his advantage, especially once the light was closer for Fenix to be seen more clearly. At the last moment, Fenix reversed his swings, and threw his swords underhanded up at the big thug. Ugly moved his sword sideways to block them away, but overly so. Having no resistance, the two swords harmlessly were knocked away, and Ugly’s follow-through left him open. Fenix leapt forward, striking him square in the nose, and spun, driving his elbow into the man’s temple. Ugly dropped like a heavy rock in a pond.

Holding on to surprise, Fenix quickly leapt over Ugly and swung at Hooknose. The man had a single moment of recognition before he was laid out on the ground.

Fenix reached down and checked Hooknose’s pockets, and sure enough, there were the keys. Finding the key that lined up with the cell door, Fenix looked in, and was relieved to see Deia safe and sound. “We have to hurry,” Fenix said. “I don’t know how long the guards will be gone.” He turned the key, and pushed the door open, then turned to locate his swords. “Let’s go.”

Peering oddly up at him, Deia frowned and said, “Wait, who are you?”

Fenix forgot he had his hood still up, and pulled it off behind him. He began to tell her to hurry along, but Deia dropped to her knees and began to cry.

“What is it?” Fenix asked, bending on one knee to look at her face. Deia just shook her head, crying, and threw her arms around him, weeping into his shoulder. Unsure what was really going on, but knowing they were short on time, Fenix gathered her into his arms, picked her up, and began making his way towards the heavy dungeon door.

As he emerged from the prison onto the street, the sight was surprising. The fight had grown into almost a full scale riot, with a line of Guard across the entire street protecting themselves from the thieves. A loud “whoop” went up, and suddenly, the thieves fell back, retreating further down the street. The Guard yelled in victory and chased after them. No one even so much as glanced at Fenix carrying Deia in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

She cried, and cried. Fenix never said a thing, just held Deia while she cried into his shoulder. She had relayed to him, in between bouts of sobbing, what took place when she and the others had arrived. They had called her a murderer, she said. They separated her from the others and took her to the dungeon. They threatened her, called her names, some of which she had never even heard of before, and worse, she had taken a beating, or several. Bruises lined down the side of her face and neck, and when he got her to show him her side, Fenix immediately sent one of Jax’s staff for bandages and cool water.

When the bandages and water arrived, he stuck his finger in it to ensure it was cool enough, then turned to the door to leave. “I’ll see about some fresh clothes.”

Panic welled up in her. “Fenix, wait.”

He stopped and looked at her.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fenix looked from her to the bandages and back and swallowed, but nodded and closed the door. Instead, he turned and faced the corner. Turning away from him, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, Deia stood, and reached down and grabbed the bottom of her blouse to raise over her head. Her arms made it just over her head before she winced and moaned quietly.

“You okay?” Fenix asked the wall.

Deia sighed, and tossed her blouse aside. “I can barely move to take my shirt off, much less wrap bandages.” She pursed her lips. “I—I’m gonna need your help.” She looked over her back at him, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Fenix turned slowly from the wall, eyes squinted closed, and carefully opened them. Deia felt herself flinch as he turned his gaze to her. Waiting for his first reaction, she realized. He met her eyes, neither pair so much as blinking. Then, so ever slowly, Fenix’s gaze lowered. It was as if his hands were slipping down her spine. So, which was her true feeling, when the mix of youthful desire and uneasiness in his eyes, after flickering on her nervously, narrowed in concern? Relief, or disappointment?

Frowning, Fenix turned to the small nightstand to pick up the stack of bandages and cloths in one arm, and the small basin of water in the other. He walked around to her side of the bed, and stopped, hissing silently. Deia looked down at herself, seeing the welts and bruises truly for the first time. They covered her sides, her chest, and her neck. Several had broken her skin, and she was bleeding. She realized, in the presence of the first man besides her own father to lay eyes on her skin, she felt disgusting, undesired. Her mouth twisted, and a tear escaped her eye unwanted.

Misunderstanding, Fenix knelt in front of her nakedness, took a cloth, and reached up and dabbed the tear away. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Let’s get you taken care of.” He dipped the cloth in the cool water, and asked her to move her arms back. She complied, and he set to work, carefully cleaning her wounds.

She did not know if it was because of her swollen skin, or her mixed feelings on the situation, but every one of his touches seemed exaggerated. Looking at him concentrating on her left side, she saw him being delicate, carefully navigating his hands around the painful swollen marks, sweeping the dirt and blood away, leaving behind only the soft memory of his fingers, and the warm chill of his breath landing on her as he worked. Fenix went through two cloths on her left side, another two on her right. He hesitated as he came to the bruises above her breasts, but the nervous desire was fleeting, and was overcome again by concern.

Fenix spoke as he tended to her face, the cloth in his hands softly caressing her cheeks. “Do you feel better?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, hesitantly.

“I remember when you came into Tel. You shed a few tears for your parents when you got there, but anyone could see you were trying to be tough, and hold it in. Nothing like you just did, a moment ago. Do you feel better, letting it out?”

She frowned as he cleaned the cloth in the basin. “That wasn’t for them,” she said quietly. “That was for what those heathens did to me. I did my crying for Mother and Father over their bodies.” Tears ran down her face.

This time, Fenix did not brush them away. “See how it pains you? You cannot hold it in forever,” he said, his eyes locked with hers. “It won’t make it stop hurting. It will never heal, either.” He picked up a dry cloth, folded it, and placed it against a sore on her side. She hissed inward sharply. “Sorry,” he said, holding it in place while using his other hand to place a bandage to wrap around her. “As I recently told my best friend, if you let the weight of the world ride on your shoulders while your insides are racking themselves with pain, you’ll be crushed, and won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

She rose her arms, painfully, as Fenix reached to wrap the first bandage around her stomach. He was quiet as he worked, carefully placing and pinning each bandage into place. She thought about his words, which brought back the memories of her smoldering parents’ bodies against her will. He was sitting on the bed next to her when he pinned the final one together behind her shoulder. “There,” he said. “How do you feel?” She answered him by falling forward into his arms.

She cried again, but nothing like she did just moments before. Before, she was angry and in pain because of the wounds to her body, but now, she was grieving and in pain because of the wounds to her soul. It was all she could do to hold herself up, until she realized it was Fenix doing that for her. She wept for the memories of her father, working the farms each year, and her mother, working the kitchen for the hands every day. Her very being poured out of her in tears.

Before too long, Deia realized Fenix was talking to her, but could not make out what he was saying. Fenix pushed her away, and looked at her, that concern in his eyes. “Deia,” he said louder, “you’re burning up.” He put a hand to her forehead to feel it, and hissed, pulling it away. “Lay down, quickly.” She complied, wiping her eyes, and Fenix went to the door carrying the waterbasin. Once she was decently covered by the blankets, he opened the door and asked someone for more water.

Her thoughts clouded her sight: thoughts of her parents, thoughts of Tailz and Cerberus, thoughts of Fenix. She was out long before Fenix returned with the first damp towel to place over her forehead.

* * * * *

A knock at the door woke Fenix. Looking around, he checked on Deia, who was still asleep, the latest towel on her head nearly dry. He jumped up from the chair he sat in, grasping the sword’s hilt that had been jabbing into his side just moments before. He cautiously approached the door.

“Fenix?” came a melodious voice.

Relieved, Fenix put his sword back in its sheathe before opening the door. “I am glad you’re okay.”

Jax looked just as relieved to see him, and entered the room. “That’s sweet, boy, but I was never in any danger. The Guard saw me as a sweet innocent victim, and the boys, well, they weren’t going to harm me none.”

Earlier, after hearing the story Fenix laid out for her, and then some convincing to try to prove to her that what he was saying was real, Jax decided that they had to do something. Even if only a part of what Fenix said beared any fruit, it was events surrounding Deia and the Guard’s odd behavior that made her act. She explained that she knew some men that had owed her a favor, and that they would gladly jump at the chance to help with this, especially with the Guard involved. What she had not told him was that they were a group of thieves in the city. They argued about it at first, but when Jax said she did not expect him to understand how the protection of her establishment hinged on absolute neutrality towards her guests, he let it lie.

True enough, they did the job, and did it well. That’s all that mattered.

“How long was I out?” Fenix asked?

“Out?” Jax asked. “I only just arrived.” She frowned at Deia and then back again. “You poor things, you must be exhausted.”

Fenix walked to the window and looked outside. The sun was barely visible out on the horizon. He had been back at the inn for an hour, maybe two. He must have dozed off. “Deia’s the worst of it, I’m afraid,” he said over his shoulder, watching the street outside. Guards were changing shift at the gate; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “She’s become feverish.”

Jax walked over to the girl in the bed, and raised the dried compress off Deia’s head, and reached down to moisten it again in the waterbasin on the floor. “Poor thing,” she said again. “Did you find her like this?”

The gates opened outside. Fenix kept watching, half expecting the Guard to start storming the inn at any moment. “No, she just went under, not too long ago.”

“Hm. But, you know what is odd?” Jax said, squeezing the cloth in her hands and reapplying it to Deia’s warm forehead. “Lam and his boys, they said that the Guard was light this morning. Only minimal guards at the usual places, and nowhere as many joined in their little skirmish as they would have liked. We would suspect that the Mayor had been relaxing the number of guards on duty, but why today, all of a sudden, right when we needed it?”

Fenix gasped, and pointed out the window. “Because they were out of town.”

Jax strode over to see what he was looking at, and then put both hands to her mouth. What seemed to be an army, the entirety of the Srynn Guard was marching in the front gate. “Oh, my.” She lowered her hands, and spoke to Fenix without taking her eyes off the incoming soldiers. “What do you think they were after?”

“I don’t know, but—” Fenix cut off, choking. A tightly-formed group of Guard entered the gate, with a man in brown robes and fiery-red hair leading the way. “Tailz!” He growled.

Jax moved an inch away from the window. “That horrible man you told me about, he’s with them?”

Looking closely, Fenix scanned the group Tailz was leading and saw everything centered on one man, chained to himself and moving oddly. Then everything made sense. Fenix slapped his forehead.

Jax blinked. “What?”

“Tailz did not join Mensch. Tailz is in charge! Tailz needed help, forces, to capture Cerberus, and he’s using Mensch to do that!”

“But why keep him alive? Why go through all that killing, and not kill him too?”

Fenix watched the Guard parade down the central street, headed towards the center city. Towards the Srynn Hall.

They realized it together, exclaiming simultaneously, “Xia and Danni!”

Fenix rushed to gather his robe, checking the belt around his waist and his sheathe. “I have to go help them.”

“What are you going to do, Fenix? Fight them all?” Jax scoffed at him. “Boy, you can’t win this one, we have to think of another way.”

“Look, unless your ‘boys’ are willing to take on the Mayor and Srynn Hall, there is no other option right now. Tailz is going to use the Telians as leverage to get Cerberus to do what he wants.”

Jax put her hands on her waist. “What if Cerberus doesn’t count them as friends?”

Fenix drew himself up tall, and put a hand on his sword. “Then they’re as good as dead anyways. I have to get to them somehow.”

Jax pursed her lips, but did not say anything. She walked over to Deia, and looked at her. “What about the girl?”

Fenix opened the door. “Take care of Deia for me.”

“You take care of yourself, boy. I’ll handle the girl.”

“I’ll come back, I promise.” Fenix turned and walked out the door. “With the others.”

Lifting the blanket to check on Deia, Jax winced at the state of her bandaged body. “You’d better come back, boy. You saved her life, and took care of her. If you die now, after everything she’s been through, she’ll only blame herself.”

* * * * *

The window crashed and rained down glass over Lord Mensch. A robed figure flew through the window feet first, driving them into Mensch’s back. Mensch growled loudly as he was knocked forward. The robed man released the rope he had rode in on, and dropped to his feet on the floor. Mensch kept his balance and turned to face the newcomer.

“Bah!” Tailz said, turning away from Mensch and towards Cerberus. “You kill them! Kill them all! I’ll take care of my friend over here.”

Mensch raised his sword obediently. The robed man lowered his hood, and drew two swords from under his robes. “You bastard,” Fenix announced. “Let’s see how good you are now.”

Recently I had a great idea for a comic, but one that really would not fit online at the other site I post comics on (We’ve Been Framed).  Then, as I was browsing Office Offline, which I do all the time, I remembered that David accepted submissions.  I chalked it up, sent it in, and voila!  He accepted, then, COMIC.

Check out his site:  Office Offline.

Direct Link to my comic:  Click here.

Chapter 2 of Children of the Mind, by Orson Scott Card.

Reproduced from here.  If you enjoy this, please purchase and read the Ender’s series of novels.

When I follow the path of the gods through the wood
My eyes take every twisting turn of the grain
But my body moves straight along the planking
So those who watch me see that the path of the gods is straight
While I dwell in a world with no straightness in it."

from The God Whispers of Han Qing-jao

---

Novinha would not come to him. The gentle old teacher looked genuinely distressed as she told Ender. "She wasn’t angry," the old teacher explained. "She told me that …"

Ender nodded, understanding how the teacher was torn between compassion and honesty. "You can tell me her words," he said. "She is my wife, so I can bear it."

The old teacher rolled her eyes. "I’m married too, you know."

Of course he knew. All the members of the Order of the Children of the Mind of Christ – Os Filhos da Mente de Cristo – were married. It was their rule.

"I’m married, so I know perfectly well that your spouse is the one person who knows all the words you can’t bear to hear."

"Then let me correct myself," said Ender mildly. "She is my wife, so I am determined to hear it, whether I can bear it or not."

"She says that she has to finish the weeding, so she has no time for lesser battles."

Yes, that sounded like Novinha. She might tell herself that she had taken the mantle of Christ upon her, but if so it was the Christ who denounced the Pharisees, the Christ who said all those cruel and sarcastic things to his enemies and his friends alike, not the gentle one with infinite patience.

Still, Ender was not one to go away merely because his feelings were hurt. "Then what are we waiting for?" asked Ender. "Show me where I can find a hoe."

The old teacher stared at him for a long moment, then smiled and led him out into the gardens. Soon, wearing work gloves and carrying a hoe in one hand, he stood at the end of the row where Novinha worked, bent over in the sunlight, her eyes on the ground before her as she cut under the root of weed after weed, turning each one up to burn to death in the hot dry sun. She was coming toward him.

Ender stepped to the unweeded row beside the one Novinha worked on, and began to hoe toward her. They would not meet, but they would pass close to each other. She would notice him or not. She would speak to him or not. She still loved and needed him. Or not. But no matter what, at the end of this day he would have weeded in the same field as his wife, and her work would have been more easily done because he was there, and so he would still be her husband, however little she might now want him in that role.

The first time they passed each other, she did not so much as look up. But then she would not have to. She would know without looking that the one who joined her in weeding so soon after she refused to meet with her husband would have to be her husband. He knew that she would know this, and he also knew she was too proud to look at him and show that she wanted to see him again. She would study the weeds until she went half blind, because Novinha was not one to bend to anyone else’s will.

Except, of course, the will of Jesus. That was the message she had sent him, the message that had brought him here, determined to talk to her. A brief note couched in the language of the Church. She was separating herself from him to serve Christ among the Filhos. She felt herself called to this work. He was to regard himself as having no further responsibility toward her, and to expect nothing more from her than she would gladly give to any of the children of God. It was a cold message, for all the gentleness of its phrasing.

Ender was not one to bend easily to another’s will, either. Instead of obeying the message, he came here, determined to do the opposite of what she asked. And why not? Novinha had a terrible record as a decision-maker. Whenever she decided to do something for someone else’s good, she ended up inadvertently destroying them. Like Libo, her childhood friend and secret lover, the father of all her children during her marriage to the violent but sterile man who had been her husband until he died. Fearing that he would die at the hands of the pequeninos, the way his father had died, Novinha withheld from him her vital discoveries about the biology of the planet Lusitania, fearing that the knowledge of it would kill him. Instead, it was the ignorance of that very information that led him to his death. What she did for his own good, without his knowledge, killed him.

You’d think she’d learn something from that, thought Ender. But she still does the same thing. Making decisions that deform other people’s lives, without consulting them, without ever conceiving that perhaps they don’t want her to save them from whatever supposed misery she’s saving them from.

Then again, if she had simply married Libo in the first place and told him everything she knew, he would probably still be alive and Ender would never have married his widow and helped her raise her younger children. It was the only family Ender had ever had or was ever likely to have. So bad as Novinha’s decisions tended to be, the happiest time of his life had come about only because of one of the most deadly of her mistakes.

On their second pass, Ender saw that she still, stubbornly, was not going to speak to him, and so, as always, he bent first and broke the silence between them.

"The Filhos are married, you know. It’s a married order. You can’t become a full member without me."

She paused in her work. The blade of the hoe rested on unbroken soil, the handle light in her gloved fingers. "I can weed the beets without you," she finally said.

His heart leapt with relief that he had penetrated her veil of silence. "No you can’t," he said. "Because here I am."

"These are the potatoes," she said. "I can’t stop you from helping with the potatoes."

In spite of themselves they both laughed, and with a groan she unbent her back, stood straight, let the hoe handle fall to the ground, and took Ender’s hands in hers, a touch that thrilled him despite two layers of thick workglove cloth between their palms and fingers.

"If I do profane with my touch," Ender began.

"No Shakespeare," she said. "No ‘lips two blushing pilgrims ready stand.’"

"I miss you," he said.

"Get over it," she said.

"I don’t have to. If you’re joining the Filhos, so am I."

She laughed.

Ender didn’t appreciate her scorn. "If a xenobiologist can retreat from the world of meaningless suffering, why can’t an old retired speaker for the dead?"

"Andrew," she said, "I’m not here because I’ve given up on life. I’m here because I really have turned my heart over to the Redeemer. You could never do that. You don’t belong here."

"I belong here if you belong here. We made a vow. A sacred one, that the Holy Church won’t let us set aside. In case you forgot."

She sighed and looked out at the sky over the wall of the monastery. Beyond the wall, through meadows, over a fence, up a hill, into the woods … that’s where the great love of her life, Libo, had gone, and where he died. Where Pipo, his father, who was like a father to her as well, where he had gone before, and also died. It was into another wood that her son Estevão had gone, and also died, but Ender knew, watching her, that when she saw the world outside these walls, it was all those deaths she saw. Two of them had taken place before Ender got to Lusitania. But the death of Estevão – she had begged Ender to stop him from going to the dangerous place where pequeninos were talking of war, of killing humans. She knew as well as Ender did that to stop Estevão would have been the same as to destroy him, for he had not become a priest to be safe, but rather to try to carry the message of Christ to these tree people. Whatever joy came to the early Christian martyrs had surely come to Estevão as he slowly died in the embrace of a murderous tree. Whatever comfort God sent to them in their hour of supreme sacrifice. But no such joy had come to Novinha. God apparently did not extend the benefits of his service to the next of kin. And in her grief and rage she blamed Ender. Why had she married him, if not to make herself safe from these disasters?

He had never said to her the most obvious thing, that if there was anyone to blame, it was God, not him. After all, it was God who had made saints – well, almost saints – out of her parents, who died as they discovered the antidote to the descolada virus when she was only a child. Certainly it was God who led Estevão out to preach to the most dangerous of the pequeninos. Yet in her sorrow it was God she turned to, and turned away from Ender, who had meant to do nothing but good for her.

He never said this because he knew that she would not listen. And he also refrained from saying it because he knew she saw things another way. If God took Father and Mother, Pipo, Libo, and finally Estevão away from her, it was because God was just and punished her for her sins. But when Ender failed to stop Estevão from his suicidal mission to the pequeninos, it was because he was blind, self-willed, stubborn, and rebellious, and because he did not love her enough.

But he did love her. With all his heart he loved her.

All his heart?

All of it he knew about. And yet when his deepest secrets were revealed in that first voyage Outside, it was not Novinha that his heart conjured there. So apparently there was someone who mattered even more to him.

Well, he couldn’t help what went on in his unconscious mind, any more than Novinha could. All he could control was what he actually did, and what he was doing now was showing Novinha that regardless of how she tried to drive him away, he would not be driven. That no matter how much she imagined that he loved Jane and his involvement in the great affairs of the human race more than he loved her, it was not true, she was more important to him than any of it. He would give it all up for her. He would disappear behind monastery walls for her. He would weed rows of unidentified plant life in the hot sun. For her.

But even that was not enough. She insisted that he do it, not for her, but for Christ. Well, too bad. He wasn’t married to Christ, and neither was she. Still, it couldn’t be displeasing to God when a husband and wife gave all to each other. Surely that was part of what God expected of human beings.

"You know I don’t blame you for the death of Quim," she said, using the old family nickname for Estevão.

"I didn’t know that," he said, "but I’m glad to find it out."

"I did at first, but I knew all along that it was irrational," she said. "He went because he wanted to, and he was much too old for some interfering parent to stop him. If I couldn’t, how could you?"

"I didn’t even want to," said Ender. "I wanted him to go. It was the fulfilment of his life’s ambition."

"I even know that now. It’s right. It was right for him to go, and it was even right for him to die, because his death meant something. Didn’t it?"

"It saved Lusitania from a holocaust."

"And brought many to Christ." She laughed, the old laugh, the rich ironic laugh that he had come to treasure if only because it was so rare. "Trees for Jesus," she said. "Who could have guessed?"

"They’re already calling him St. Stephen of the Trees."

"That’s quite premature. It takes time. He must first be beatified. Miracles of healing must take place at his tomb. Believe me, I know the process."

"Martyrs are thin on the ground these days," said Ender. "He will be beatified. He will be canonized. People will pray for him to intercede with Jesus for them, and it will work, because if anyone has earned the right to have Christ hear him, it’s your son Estevão."

Tears slipped down her cheeks, even as she laughed again. "My parents were martyrs and will be saints; my son, also. Piety skipped a generation."

"Oh, yes. Yours was the generation of selfish hedonism."

She finally turned to face him, tear-streaked dirty cheeks, smiling face, twinkling eyes that saw through into his heart. The woman he loved.

"I don’t regret my adultery," she said. "How can Christ forgive me when I don’t even repent? If I hadn’t slept with Libo, my children would not have existed. Surely God does not disapprove of that?"

"I believe what Jesus said was, ‘I the Lord will forgive whom I will forgive. But of you it is required that you forgive all men.’"

"More or less," she said. "I’m not a scriptorian." She reached out and touched his cheek. "You’re so strong, Ender. But you seem tired. How can you be tired? The universe of human beings still depends on you. Or if not the whole of humankind, then certainly you belong to this world. To save this world. But you’re tired."

"Deep inside my bones I am," he said. "And you have taken my last lifeblood away from me."

"How odd," she said. "I thought what I removed from you was the cancer in your life."

"You aren’t very good at determining what other people want and need from you, Novinha. No one is. We’re all as likely to hurt as help."

"That’s why I came here, Ender. I’m through deciding things. I put my trust in my own judgment. Then I put trust in you. I put trust in Libo, in Pipo, in Father and Mother, in Quim, and everyone disappointed me or went away or … no, I know you didn’t go away, and I know it wasn’t you that – hear me out, Andrew, hear me. The problem wasn’t in the people I trusted, the problem was that I trusted in them when no human being can possibly deliver what I needed. I needed deliverance, you see. I needed, I need, redemption. And it isn’t in your hands to give me – your open hands, which give me more than you even have to give, Andrew, but still you haven’t got the thing I need. Only my Deliverer, only the Anointed One, only he has it to give. Do you see? The only way I can make my life worth living is to give it to him. So here I am."

"Weeding."

"Separating the good fruit from the tares, I believe," she said. "People will have more and better potatoes because I took out the weeds. I don’t have to be prominent or even noticed to feel good about my life now. But you, you come here and remind me that even in becoming happy, I’m hurting someone."

"But you’re not," said Ender. "Because I’m coming with you. I’m joining the Filhos with you. They’re a married order, and we’re a married couple. Without me you can’t join, and you need to join. With me you can. What could be simpler?"

"Simpler?" she shook her head. "You don’t believe in God, how’s that for starters?"

"I certainly do too believe in God," said Ender, annoyed.

"Oh, you’re willing to concede God’s existence, but that’s not what I meant. I mean believe in him the way a mother means it when she says to her son, I believe in you. She’s not saying she believes that he exists – what is that worth? – she’s saying she believes in his future, she trusts that he’ll do all the good that is in him to do. She puts the future in his hands, that’s how she believes in him. You don’t believe in Christ that way, Andrew. You still believe in yourself. In other people. You’ve sent out your little surrogates, those children you conjured up during your visit in hell – you may be here with me in these walls right now, but your heart is out there scouting planets and trying to stop the fleet. You aren’t leaving anything up to God. You don’t believe in him."

"Excuse me, but if God wanted to do everything himself, what did he make us for in the first place?"

"Yes, well, I seem to recall that one of your parents was a heretic, which is no doubt where your strangest ideas come from." It was an old joke between them, but this time neither of them laughed.

"I believe in you," Ender said.

"But you consult with Jane."

He reached into his pocket, then held out his hand to show her what he had found there. It was a jewel, with several very fine wires leading from it. Like a glowing organism ripped from its delicate place amid the fronds of life in a shallow sea. She looked at it for a moment uncomprehending, then realized what it was and looked at the ear where for all the years she had known him, he had worn the jewel that linked him to Jane, the computer-program-come-to-life who was his oldest, dearest, most reliable friend.

"Andrew, no, not for me, surely."

"I can’t honestly say these walls contain me, as long as Jane was there to whisper in my ear," he said. "I talked it out with her. I explained it. She understands. We’re still friends. But not companions anymore."

"Oh, Andrew," said Novinha. She wept openly now, and held him, clung to him. "If only you had done it years ago, even months ago."

"Maybe I don’t believe in Christ the way that you do," said Ender. "But isn’t it enough that I believe in you, and you believe in him?"

"You don’t belong here, Andrew."

"I belong here more than anywhere else, if this is where you are. I’m not so much world weary, Novinha, as I am will weary. I’m tired of deciding things. I’m tired of trying to solve things."

"We try to solve things here," she said, pulling away from him.

"But here we can be, not the mind, but the children of the mind. We can be the hands and feet, the lips and tongue. We can carry out and not decide." He squatted, knelt, then sat in the dirt, the young plants brushing and tickling him on either side. He put his dirty hands to his face and wiped his brow with them, knowing that he was only smearing dirt into mud.

"Oh, I almost believe this, Andrew, you’re so good at it," said Novinha. "What, you’ve decided to stop being the hero of your own saga? Or is this just a ploy? Be the servant of all, so you can be the greatest among us?"

"You know I’ve never tried for greatness, or achieved it, either."

"Oh, Andrew, you’re such a storyteller that you believe your own fables."

Ender looked up at her. "Please, Novinha, let me live with you here. You’re my wife. There’s no meaning to my life if I’ve lost you."

"We live as man and wife here, but we don’t … you know that we don’t …"

"I know that the Filhos forswear sexual intercourse," said Ender. "I’m your husband. As long as I’m not having sex with anyone, it might as well be you that I’m not having sex with." He smiled wryly.

Her answering smile was only sad and pitying.

"Novinha," he said. "I’m not interested in my own life anymore. Do you understand? The only life I care about in this world is yours. If I lose you, what is there to hold me here?"

He wasn’t sure what he meant by this himself. The words had come unbidden to his lips. But he knew as he said them that it was not self-pity, but rather a frank admission of the truth. Not that he was thinking of suicide or exile or any other such low drama. Rather he felt himself fading. Losing his hold. Lusitania seemed less and less real to him. Valentine was still there, his dear sister and friend, and she was like a rock, her life was so real, but it was not real to him because she didn’t need him. Plikt, his unasked-for disciple, she might need Ender, but not the reality of him, only the idea of him. And who else was there? The children of Novinha and Libo, the children that he had raised as his own, and loved as his own, he loved them no less now, but they were adults, they didn’t need him. Jane, who once had been virtually destroyed by an hour of his inattention, she no longer needed him either, for she was there in the jewel in Miro’s ear, and in another jewel in Peter’s ear …

Peter. Young Valentine. Where had they come from? They had stolen his soul and taken it with them when they left. They were doing the living acts that once he would have done himself. While he waited here in Lusitania and … faded. That’s what he meant. If he lost Novinha, what would tie him to this body that he had carried around the universe for all these thousands of years?

"It’s not my decision," Novinha said.

"It’s your decision," said Ender, "whether you want me with you, as one of the Filhos da Mente de Cristo. If you do, then I believe I can make my way through all the other obstacles."

She laughed nastily. "Obstacles? Men like you don’t have obstacles. Just steppingstones."

"Men like me?"

"Yes, men like you," said Novinha. "Just because I’ve never met any others. Just because no matter how much I loved Libo he was never for one day as alive as you are in every minute. Just because I found myself loving as an adult for the first time when I loved you. Just because I have missed you more than I miss even my children, even my parents, even the lost loves of my life. Just because I can’t dream of anyone but you, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t somebody else just like you somewhere else. The universe is a big place. You can’t be all that special, really. Can you?"

He reached through the potato plants and leaned a hand gently on her thigh. "You do still love me, then?" he asked.

"Oh, is that what you came for? To find out if I love you?"

He nodded. "Partly."

"I do," she said.

"Then I can stay?"

She burst into tears. Loud weeping. She sank to the ground; he reached through the plants to embrace her, to hold her, caring nothing for the leaves he crushed between them. After he held her for a long while, she broke off her crying and turned to him and held him at least as tightly as he had been holding her.

"Oh, Andrew," she whispered, her voice cracking and breaking from having wept so much. "Does God love me enough to give you to me now, again, when I need you so much?"

"Until I die," said Ender.

"I know that part," she said. "But I pray that God will let me die first this time."

Tailz stared silently at the new kid.  He knew it was a kind of hypocrisy to refer to a boy no older than himself as a “kid”, but the boy was fresh out of Selection; placed immediately into command, no less.  With the exception of the weapons exam, on which Tailz still held the highest proficiency, the kid, code-named “Cerberus,” had scored highest across the board.  The first Selection assigned specifically for command, he had been appointed specifically to replace their last Commander, who had vanished undercover deep in Fongen territory.  Tailz had been Acting Commander ever since the Union’s head leaders, the Will, gave up looking for Commander Fincher.

That was two years ago.  Tailz had hopes that his work against the rebel Fongen would allow him to keep the position in reality, instead of by default.  The only real obstacle to that was if someone came out of Selection with scores to match Tailz’, a feat he had believed impossible.  Only, that’s what this boy had done.  Tailz noted with some pride, however, that although he was a year younger than Tailz, Cerberus had spent four years longer in Selection.  Tailz was assigned to the Terra Scouts as lead tactical officer at the minimum age, thirteen standard years.  Cerberus may have been immediately assigned as the new Commander on Selection, but not until after his seventeenth nameday.

At least the boy’s first mission was simple.  The Union had been waiting for an opportunity to infiltrate a secure spaceport in the rebel Fongen’s space.  Recently, they had been able to discern the timetable of a freighter with the appropriate clearance.  The first mission was to secretly retrieve the craft’s authority codes to dock at the port, and the captain’s biometric data to confirm it.  They also needed the craft’s identification signal, so they get close to the port without alerting the rebel force nearby. 

The second task was to get to the port and dock with it.  The idea was—after broadcasting the Fongen colors—they would identify the Scouts, own craft as the freighter that had just left.  Their freighter, the Zeroth, confiscated on another smuggling raid, was an identical model craft.  The Scouts would then transfer scan data showing a power glitch that required them to return to port.

 Finally, they would infiltrate the port itself.  The Will wanted the Scouts to obtain the manifest database containing all of the crafts which docked at the port and their cargo.  With that, it would be easy enough to strangle the rebels’ supply lines.  A blockade was out of the question; the space was too great an area.  But as the Union suddenly began targeting known smugglers and confiscating cargo, it would be a bad time to be a supply runner for the Fongen.

Cerberus paced behind the communications station.  Heir, the Scout assigned to handle the station, was staring intently at the screen.  They had been waiting nearly an hour just on the outside of the Fongen’s known transmission range, so the rebels would not catch wind of the radio traffic.  Cerberus continued to pace, unwilling to abort the mission just yet.

The final member of their small crew, Blank, called out from navigation.  “Commander, the target is exiting Fongen space.” 

“Finally!” Cerberus sighed.  “Confirm it.”

Blank tabbed through several screens of information.  “It’s the right one; the Ire of Mandala.  Looks like they were just delayed getting off the planet.”

“Have they detected us yet?”

“No, Commander.  They are not running sweeps this far out.”

Cerberus nodded.  “Cut power as we discussed, make it look good.  Everyone get their helmets on.”  He turned to the comm station.  “Heir, transmit the distress signal, all Fongen channels, make it weak enough that they get it and no one else.  Don’t want a relay to accidentally pick it up.”  As Heir complied, typing into his console, Cerberus approached Tailz.  “Let’s go.”

As the pair exited the Zeroth’s bridge, the lights dimmed and went out.  They placed their masks over their faces, and connected them to the oxygen pack on their backs.  Then, they placed their helmets over their heads, hearing the click that locked them into place.  Normally life support would last several hours on a freighter this size after a complete power down, but to make their show more convincing they were going to vent all the gas into space several minutes after lights out.  Sure enough, in time they could hear the hissing of the ventilation system as it sucked out all the air.  Cerberus nodded, and led the way to the weapon locker. 

Opening the locker they had hauled on board the Zeroth, they each reached in.  Tailz, as usual, pulled out the trusty rifle he hefted with him everywhere.  He grabbed a phasic pod from the open box, and locked it in.  The clear glass of the unused pod quickly gave off a fluorescent blue as the rifle hummed to life.  Nodding to himself, Tailz attached the shoulder strap, and then heaved the big rifle over his shoulder.

Cerberus shook his head, but said nothing, pulling out two of the smaller pistols.

“What?”  Tailz asked, brushing his hand through his fiery-red hair.

The Commander shrugged while he belted on the double holster.  “Well, you’re the weapons expert, so it’s probably different for you.”  He clicked one pistol closed, and holstered it.  He began loading the second one.  “I prefer a weapon I can put away quickly and have both my hands free.”

Tailz scoffed.  Cerberus looked up and raised an eyebrow.  Tailz held his hands wide.  “Sorry, but I don’t plan on letting anyone get that close.”

Shrugging, Cerberus holstered the second pistol and closed the locker.  “Like I said, you’re the weapons expert.  So long as we get the mission done, I don’t care how you do it.”  He turned and moved down the corridor.  Tailz adjusted his rifle’s shoulder strap and followed along behind.

A brief walk to the elevator shaft that remained active and down four decks took them to the storage bays.  Cerberus palmed open the large door that hid their cargo.  Tailz whistled, impressed: “Now that’s a classy craft.”  He cocked his head, studying it.  “It’s tiny, though.”  It was about half the size of the crafts they currently used for single- or double-man missions.

Cerberus chuckled as he popped the hatch open.  “Yeah, the guys on the Antirades said it was an over-sized sardine can.”  Cerberus pointed at various components.  “Two-man seating, and the shallow contour of the chairs allows for two rows of controls on either side.  Also helps make the craft smaller.”

Tailz tilted his head to one side.  “I don’t see any armaments.”

“There are none.  This class was built for speed.  I had them only put two circuits: one for the thrusters, and one for the computer.”

“Just two?” Tailz said, eyes wide.  “Fine, no weapons, but what about the refractors?  Auto-stabilizers? Phasic dampeners?”

Cerberus grinned.  “Well, the light refractors and phasic dampeners have their own power source: a battery that is charged while the thrusters are low.  That way, they’ll be available when they’re needed, but they weren’t designed to be used for long.  All engine output is directed to the thrusters when they’re hot.  That, combined with the fact that there are no auto-stabilizers, you have the smallest possible package, with maximum speed and maneuverability.”

Tailz choked, surprised, and had to clear his throat.  “You took off the auto-stabilizers?”

“Of course.  The reports have always shown that a Scout’s natural reflexes are more accurate, forcing us to fight the stabilizers.  We were having to purposefully aim off our headings so that the auto-stabilizers would then correct them.”

Tailz nodded his head.  He had not thought to mention that to the engineers who handcrafted the Scouts’ personal craft.  Working with the auto-stabilizers that helped regular Humans guide space-faring crafts had been just a given.  It would be faster to just hit the heading they wanted, exactly, without having to reverse calculate what the auto-stabilizer would do.

Looking up, he noticed Cerberus with a hand to his helmet.  “What’s up?”

Cerberus did not move at first, then nodded to himself and climbed into the craft.  “I’ve got the signal.  Our ‘friends’ are preparing to dock and send over a few engineers to help ‘Captain’ Heir fix his little broken craft problem.  Time to go.”  He pressed several buttons near the main display, and the cockpit lit up.

A pleasant female voice chimed over speakers.  “TERRA PRIME ACTIVIX BEGINNING.”  The craft’s engine turned the pale dankness of the storage bay into a reflective neon-blue light show.  It hummed with power, similar to their hand weapons, but only hundreds of times more so.  “DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETED.”  Cerberus waved to Tailz.  “Welcome to the Terra Prime.”

Tailz slid into his seat behind Cerberus, which was surprisingly roomy and comfortable.  “Remind me,” Tailz said with a laugh, “to ask you who you bribed on the engineering team to get such nice chairs.”

Laughing, Cerberus shook his head.  “Nah, the engineers were not very forthcoming.  The construction crew, however, well, they don’t mind letting you do the work yourself, so long as they get paid.  All strapped in?”

“That’s affirmative.”

“All right.  Let’s go.” Cerberus addressed the craft: “Terra Prime, activate the dampeners, and the light refractors.”  The computer beeped compliance.  Cerberus reached a hand up and pressed a button.  “Blank, this is Cerberus.  Why don’t you open that present I got for you?”

Tailz closed his eyes as the refractors took effect.  Although to the outside world the craft seemed to fade away to invisibility, on the inside Tailz found the view to be most disorienting.  After several seconds, as the refractors adjusted, it would become clear, but until then it just looked out of focus, like a video feed gone bad.

“PHASIC DAMPENERS ONLINE.  LIGHT REFRACTORS ONLINE.”

“What kind of time do we have with the dampeners?”  Tailz asked, remembering they ran off a charged battery.  “How long do we have before they can trace our engines?”

“A full charge would give us an hour of continuous dampener and refractor use,” Cerberus replied, “but we’re not going full thrust here, so, the engines will be trickle-charging the battery anyway.  We’ll have unlimited time, so long as we’re not in a hurry to go somewhere.”

The bay door slowly slid open, leaving the two Scouts staring out into space.  I just opened your present, Blank’s voice spoke over the intercom.  When you come up to the bridge, I’ll thank you properly.

Cerberus replied, keeping the radio conversation innocent.  “Alright.  I’m busy down here at the moment.  I’ll give you a shout when I can come up.  Cerberus out.”  He turned and looked back at Tailz, “Wanna take her out?”

Tailz smiled, and nodded.  He punched up the thrusters and carefully maneuvered the small, invisible craft out of the storage bay.  When flying with light refractors on, there was always a slight delay as the light was refracted around the craft, was processed, and fed back to the cockpit so the pilot could see what was around him.  To Tailz’ approval, this Terra Prime was small enough that the delay was almost unnoticeable.  The delay in their current, larger crafts was slightly more discernible.  For the largest crafts, the delay made visual flight an impossibility, relying instead on sensors and other instruments. 

“Look, there they go.”  Cerberus pointed.  A long, slender tube had been extended from the Ire of Mandala and docked with the Zeroth‘s maintenance hatch.  “Let’s get around into position.  If Heir did his job right, there will be a small accident with the dock once the engineers begin investigating the power circuits.”

Tailz pushed the Terra Prime forward, making his way around the outside of the freighter.  “Don’t you worry about Heir,” Tailz snapped.  “He knows what he’s about.”  He looked down at his display, and tilted his head, perplexed.  “Hmm, looks like they’re not running sweeps at all.”

“Tsk, tsk.”  Cerberus responded.  “Lazy.  Well, keep the dampeners on, just in case.”

The Terra Prime was positioned beside the docking hatch opposite the one the Ire of Mandala was utilizing.  There, they waited for the distraction they needed.  “So,” Cerberus began, “how did Blank’s codename come about?”

Tailz frowned briefly.  Asking about how they chose their names came very close to asking about their lives before the Scouts.  But then again, Blank’s name did have a story behind it.  He wrestled himself a moment, deciding whether he should answer or not, and decided it would do no harm.  “Blank completed Selection as the best damn pilot the Union had ever seen.  He completed all the training, kept up on the endurance exams, but he was only so-so in tactics and strategy.”

“Then how did he make Selection?”

“Well, like I said, his skills and knowledge as a pilot more than made up for it.  You put him in a cockpit, and the boy became a strategic genius.  He knows his crafts to the pound, and has the reflexes and know-how to pull off the craziest stunts.  He can do things that no normal Human can pull off.  That’s what got him in.”

“But what about his name?” Cerberus asked.

“Well, the way he is, he was kind of withdrawn.  Doesn’t say much, is always studying and working on his crafts when he isn’t out flying them.  When it came time for Selection, and it came time to select a name, he just never chose one.”

“What do you mean?”

Tailz smiled.  “I mean he never picked one.  He never put too much thought into it; he was too busy.  At one point, they were prodding him to pick one already or they’d pick one for him.  He got upset and told them to leave it blank.”

Cerberus nodded his head in realization.  “So they literally did.”

“Yup.  They typed in Blank and called it a day.”

They shared a silent chuckle.  Then, Cerberus turned and looked at Tailz again.  “What about yours?”

Before Tailz could answer, a flash of light and the violent rocking of the freighter told them that their distraction had arrived.  Cerberus spun back around.  “Tailz, lock us onto their hull.”  He pressed a button on the console.  “Deactivate dampeners and refractors.”

“PHASIC DAMPENERS OFFLINE.  LIGHT REFRACTORS OFFLINE.”

A metal clunk announced the Terra Prime landing on the Ire of Mandala‘s hull.  After a moment, Tailz said, “The magnets are holding, we’re on tight.”

Cerberus nodded and pressed another series of controls.  The craft completely powered down.  They both waited for any reaction for what they were doing.  “What do you think?”  asked Cerberus into the silence.

Tailz watched outside the cockpit, through the windows into the freighter.  No one was running to where they were, no one looking out, trying to see what was out here.  Whenever a craft turned off its refractors, there was always a blinding light.  Part of the reason for their planned distraction was to draw everyone in the freighter in the other direction, and partly to keep anyone from looking out this side when the flash happened.  “I don’t think anyone saw our flash.”

Cerberus unstrapped himself and faced Tailz whilst kneeling in his seat.  “Get up, and fold your chair back.”  Tailz unstrapped as well and found the button that folded the chair forward, making it small enough to slide backwards into the rear of the craft.  Underneath where the seat had been was the docking hatch.  Tailz grasped the handles and pulled up, revealing the hatch of the freighter underneath.  “Ready?”

Cerberus nodded.

Tailz put a hand to his helmet.  “Blank, this is Tailz.  It seems I’ve locked myself out of my quarters.  Can you override the lock for me?”

The radio spoke back to him in a sarcastic tone.  Tailz, we’re kind of having a power crisis up here.  I’ll do it for you this once, but next time, you’ll wait in the hallway until we’re done.  A moment of silence, then the hatch popped open.

“Thanks, Blank.  You’re the best.”  Tailz jumped feet first into the hatch, and landed in the empty airlock aboard the Ire of Mandala.

Cerberus followed behind, a pistol in hand, and hit the control to close the hatch and pressurize the airlock.  Rushing across the room, he glanced carefully outside the door through the small window in the airlock door.  “There’s no one out there,” Cerberus said.  “No one posted.”

“Well,” Tailz said, “it is a cargo freighter, not a military craft.  They probably don’t leave someone here around the clock.  Or, they went to help over at the Zeroth.”

Cerberus nodded.  “Well, that just makes our job easier.”  The door light turned green, and Cerberus pulled open the airlock door and stepped into the corridor, aiming his gun left and right.  Seeing nothing, he looked back to Tailz.  “Let’s hurry.  They shouldn’t detect the override of the hatch, but if anyone checks, it’ll show it’s been opened.  We have a head start with no one knowing we’re here yet, I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Tailz and Cerberus moved swiftly and soundlessly as they crept through the corridor.  They stopped at each intersection, checking the area ahead for anyone who might see them, but hallway after hallway they found no one.

At the end of the cargo deck, the pair skipped the elevators, which would surely be tracked, and instead scrambled up the maintenance ladders.  Side by side, they climbed, Tailz’ rifle hung off his back as he pulled himself up the ladder.  From time to time, he would lower a hand to steady it, keeping it from banging back against either the ladder or the smooth wall to his side.

Two decks up, Tailz noticed Cerberus was not keeping pace with him.  Stopping to look down, Cerberus had stopped, one arm hung around the ladder, the other pressed to his head.  “Cerb, what is it?”

Cerberus did not answer, frozen on the ladder; he seemed to be listening to something.  Tailz waited.  Shortly, Cerberus shook his head, and climbed to come even with Tailz.  “I’m not sure what it means, but it was Blank.”

Tailz felt a momentary panic.  Once they were inside the craft, radio silence was necessary to prevent the Ire of Mandala from realizing someone was aboard transmitting away.  For Blank to break silence meant trouble. “Why?  What did he say?”

“He said, ‘The present you gave me is too expensive for me to accept.  Please return it.’”

Tailz thought about it for a moment.  “That isn’t one of the codes we set up.”

“I know that,” Cerberus snapped, “but, it is related, and it must be urgent.”

“Do you think he’s calling us back?”

Cerberus thought carefully.  “He must have new information we don’t have.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.  But, to take the present back because it is too expensive?  I think he’s telling us this is a no go.”

Tailz nodded his head, “and we haven’t seen a single person since we boarded.  Something is weird here.  Abort?”

Cerberus nodded in return.  “Abort.”  He suited his words by spreading his legs to wrap his feet around either side of the ladder and sliding down.  Tailz followed behind.  They had only slid down half a deck before a high pitched alarm sounded and red lights flashed on and off in the maintenance shaft.

“Damn,” Tailz said, “they must have been watching us.”  They hit the alarms once Tailz and Cerberus changed directions, which meant the Scouts knew the plan was a trap.

Cerberus stopped one deck above where they had started from.  “Then we get off here.  They’ll be waiting down there.”  Together, the two leapt across the shaft from the maintenance ladders, and rolled into a corridor that ran lengthwise above the deck.  They each came to their feet weapons in hand.  Tailz ran to an access hatch and kicked it open, downwards into the deck corridor.

Uniformed Fongen soldiers were running down the hallway, apparently called to travel down to the deck they expected to find Tailz and Cerberus on as they retreated.  Tailz was just as surprised, finding soldiers on a merchant freighter, but his hesitation lasted shorter than theirs.  Tailz aimed his rifle and opened fire, blue fire roaring from his arms as if magic.  Each shot found a chest or head, bodies piling on the floor in the midst of drawing their weapons, which many still had not unstrapped from their waists.  Some of the Fongen further down the hall had finally realized what was happening, and dove behind crossing corridors to avoid Tailz’ deadly firestorm.

“Tailz, this is going to get dangerous real fast!”  Cerberus called from behind him, creating his own smaller, faster, firestorm with his pistols.  Heads were starting to poke back out from the corridors they had dove into, and Tailz had to agree.  Return fire was imminent. 

“Back up!” Tailz said, and dropped to a knee.  In a heartbeat, Cerberus leapt onto Tailz’ back, using it as a springboard.  With Tailz propelling him upwards, Cerberus easily grasped the access hatch opening.  Using Cerberus as a human ladder, Tailz quickly climbed back up into the maintenance corridor.  Cerberus was right behind him.  Their enemies below had yet to open fire.

Tailz reached down and closed the hatch.  “Nine,” Tailz said.

Cerberus stood and dusted himself off, “fourteen.”

Tailz choked, “Gah!  Wha?  Fourteen?”

“Well, I didn’t think it fair to count the ones I shot in the back,” Cerberus said.

Tailz’ mouth dropped as Cerberus started jogging up the corridor.  He refused to follow after him.  “Now hold on!”

“What?”  Cerberus said, over his shoulder.

Tailz kicked the hatch back open and fell into it head first, using his legs to hang over the edge of the hatch.  The stupid Fongen had assumed that the pair had kept moving once disappearing into the maintenance access, and had began to flow back through the hallway over their dead comrades.  Screaming, Tailz opened fire into a neat line of Fongen men.  They scattered faster this time, but not fast enough.  Tailz was still firing as Cerberus hauled him back up.

“Are you crazy?” Cerberus yelled.

Tailz shrugged, breathing heavily, “seventeen.”

Cerberus ground his teeth, then he shook his head and sighed, “this should not be.  There should not be soldiers here.  We’ve been setup, and this was planned from the beginning.”  Cerberus growled quietly, “looks like radio silence does not matter anymore.”  He put his hand to his helmet.  “Blank, what the hell is going on?”  Tailz put his hand to his helmet radio button to listen in.

No answer.

“Blank, forget silence, we’re under open fire.”

Silence.  Then a crackle.  Open fire? We’re not detecting any fire.

Cerberus smacked his forehead; he must have realized something.  “Check the phasic read-outs from the Ire.  You’ll see they have a dampener, and it is running.”

A moment passed.  That they do.  What kind of fire?

Tailz answered, “at least three or four squads on our deck alone.  Who knows what else.  We were setup.”

“Forget that,” Cerberus said, “what was your message about?”

I’m sorry, Commander.  Too much for open comm.  Suffice it to say, we found it was a trap.  Unfortunately, too late, it seems.

Tailz and Cerberus nodded to each other.  Blank and Heir had found new information, and tried to alert them.  “How’s the Zeroth?”  Tailz asked.

Heir and I are separated, but in communication.  We sealed off the craft before they sent any troops over, but the engineers are still here, trying to gain control.  They can’t get to me on the bridge, but they can override me eventually.

“Keep it up Blank.  You guys get control, and be ready for us.  Cerberus out.”

“So,” Tailz said, “what’s the plan?”

Cerberus pondered.  Their plan had been compromised and the Fongen knew where they were headed, where the Terra Prime was docked, everything.  Now, the Fongen were just waiting for them to come out of hiding.  “The danger is the same either direction,” Cerberus said carefully.  “We might as well get what we came for before we leave.”

Tailz laughed, and smacked his leg.  “They’ll never see that coming.”

* * * * *

Heir crept down the dark corridor, hearing only his own breathing into the mask on his face.  “I don’t understand it,” he whispered.  “They could have gone for the engines, the bridge, anything.  But they’re not in any of those places.  What are they up to?”

A voice answered him over his helmet radio.  I’m not sure, Heir.  But from here, I’m not showing anything not functioning that we did not turn off ourselves.

Heir sighed, leaning against a crossing corridor, checking for the presence of anyone other than himself.  “Well, I’m moving up to the next deck, the sensors and generators are there.”

Should I come out there and help you?

“No,” Heir answered.  “Blank, you stay there and keep the bridge sealed off.  It would be near impossible to stop them without damaging the craft ourselves if they got in there.”

Suddenly, without warning, the lights came back on.  Heir could hear the ventilation start pushing air in the corridor, and he could feel the craft shake as the generators came online.  “Blank?  What’s going on?”

Blank sounded panicked.  “Everything just came back online.  They were in the generator room, and powered everything on.”

Heir was confused.  Why, out of all the things to sabotage and control, power the generator?  You could not control the craft from the generators, only power the sensors.  The engines and bridge were separately powered and controlled.  Heir ran while he thought, leapt up the ladders to the next deck, and sprinted through the corridors.  He kept the mask on, as poisoning the ventilation was the only thing Heir could think of for the engineers to do, so he played it safe.

Turning the corner, he drew the phasic lance off his back and powered it on.  Its long tip glowed blue, and crackled with electricity.  He could wield it like a shocklance of old, but with the burns phasic energy left behind, or he could pull a trigger and emit electrical blasts in a wide arc.  He preferred the lance as his weapon of choice, because Heir enjoyed fighting in close quarters.

Brandishing the lance, Heir entered the generator room, ready for a fight.

The four engineers, however, were definitely not ready, not for a fight, anyway.  They stood quietly around the main generator console, looking at him calmly.

“What is this?” Heir asked.

The front-most man, carrying a small metallic box, nodded at him.  “My apologies.  But as long as the Ire‘s sensors could detect us, and hear us, we could not stop and talk.  We needed to get a jammer online, and needed the generators to do it.”

Heir raised an eyebrow.  What could they want to speak of?

“We surrender to you, sir, if you will turn this craft around and take us straight back to Union space.”

Heir spun the lance and shook his head.  “We don’t negotiate with rebels.”

“We are not rebels,” said the man.  “Your previous commander sent us into Fongen hands to retrieve this.”  He tapped the small box he was holding.  “We need to get this back to the Will as soon as possible.”

“How could I possibly believe you?” Heir asked, studying the man intently.

The engineer thought about this for a moment, then set the metallic box down on the console.  “Take a look for yourself.”

The other engineers gasped.  “He’s a Scout!” one said.  “We can’t show it to anyone!” said another.

The first man turned to face the others.  “They’re all Scouts, and currently our ticket out of here.  Unless one of you have had extensive Scout training I’m not aware of, we could not hope to best them in the long run.”  He turned back around to look at Heir.  “This is our top mission.  But you, sir, I hope you would keep this to yourself, as I’m sure our circumstances would probably not be considered for the penalty the Will would enforce, on us and yourself.”

Heir slowly walked forward, holding his lance out in front of him, forcing the others to step back.  Seeing that the others were not threatening, he used his free hand to open the box.

A small spherical gem, deep cerulean in color, gleamed back at him.

Heir dropped his lance, and it crackled as it struck the ground.

“This is what Fincher was tasked to find.  He found its location, but could not retrieve it himself.  He required some additional …assistance.”  The engineer held his hands open wide.  “We’re in your hands now.  Will you keep this to yourself, and assist us?”

Heir nodded.

* * * * *

The lean admiral growled under his breath.  The exhalation blew out the white mustache covering both sides of his mouth, further marking his exasperation.  He had not had such bumbling fools under his command since Fongen cut communications with the Union and been declared in rebellion.  Everything that could be screwed up had been, on a mission that everything was riding on.

He had called the Ire of Mandala‘s captain to his office, and eyed him with disgust.  “You told me your men could handle this, Captain Travis.”

Travis swallowed slightly.  “Sir, the intel we were given did not make mention of the task force being made up of Union Scouts.”

The admiral slapped his hand down on the desk.  “Frank!  They saw they were kids when they went over to the Zeroth!  Why would they have not said anything?”

It was Travis’ turn to growl.  “They would not have disobeyed their orders.  Plus, I trust my lieutenants’ judgement.  They would have noticed it, and adapted.  Their goal was to take control of the craft, or at least sabotage it so the Union task force could not escape.”  Travis took a step forward.  “And with all due respect, sir, they are still in there right now trying to accomplish that.”

“Well, they seem to be doing better than us.”  The admiral hmphed.  “We’re reporting casualties all over the craft, and no definite sign of the two who came on board.  Just where are they?”

“Sir,” Travis began, “this is a freighter.  There are many service corridors that are not monitored by the craft’s sensors, and we cannot track their phasic emissions without lowering the field that is preventing the Zeroth from doing the same.”

“Excuses!”

Travis shook his head.  “We’re scouring the entire craft, and their way out is blocked.  They’ll turn up eventually.”

As if to prove him true, phasefire sounded outside in the corridor.  Both Travis and the admiral froze in place.  Pitched voices yelled from outside the door as the admiral’s guards returned fire.  The admiral drew his sidearm, and motioned to Travis to do the same.  The admiral aimed his weapon at the door.  Travis merely held his in his hands, pointed at the floor.

Several more phasic blasts roared, followed by grunts and soft thuds.  Then silence.

Neither man moved. 

The door splintered as it exploded into the room.  The admiral fired several shots into the debris, but Travis could not see anything.  He waited, and stood absolutely still, pistol still lowered at his side.  The admiral advanced towards the door, firing.

Two screaming flares of blue caught the admiral mid-stride, and burned into his well-pressed uniform.  Dropping to his knees, the admiral continued to fire at the still unseen threat outside the office door.  A third, larger blast whizzed into the room, striking the admiral square in the nose.  The force toppled the large man, and he fell with a crash onto his back.

Two young men—no, children—cautiously entered the room.  The first was tall, his gaze as fierce as his eyes were dark.  His straight, deep brown, almost black, hair slicked forward with sweat, he was the first to notice Travis standing still in the midst of the broken door debris.  The boy poised both of his hand-pistols at him.  Travis was careful to not move.

The other waltzed in, a rifle leaned over his shoulder.  He looked at Travis and chuckled, shaking his head.  His flame-colored hair flicked to and fro as he moved.  Still, the gleam in his lighter eyes was just as dark as the other’s.  Travis had never been in the same room as the famed Union Terra Scouts, but despite their age, they seemed just as dangerous as the stories said.

“Well, Tailz,” the dark-haired one said.  “We’re here.” 

The fiery-haired Scout nodded and hefted his rifle.  “Alright Captain…” he squinted at the nametag on Travis’ chest, “Travis.  You’re just the man we’re looking for, and smart, not to put up a fight.  Go to the terminal, and transmit your authorization and biometrics to the Zeroth.”

Travis nodded, and, with one hand raised, slowly lowered the other to the ground to place his weapon on the floor.  He did not want to accidentally anger these two soldiers.  Then, Travis reached over the desk to the console, and turned it so the Scouts could clearly see he was cooperating.  Several keystrokes later, the computer beeped confirmation of the sent data.  He turned to the Scouts, hands wide indicating he had completed their request.

“We can’t leave him alive to tell what we took,” the dark-haired Scout said.

Travis’ eyes widened.

The Scout called Tailz shrugged.  “Whatever, Cerberus; kill him. We got what we came for.”  He started to leave.

Travis immediately started stuttering, trying to explain, but could not form words, unsure how to say what he needed to say. 

Cerberus raised his pistols.

Travis’ mind raced.  Please do not kill me, lest my work be in vain!

“Wait!” Tailz said, running back to the man. 

Cerberus lowered his pistols.  “What?”

Tailz grasped Travis’ chin and, pulling his face close, looked into his eyes.  The Scout stared at the man for a full minute, wordless.

“Tailz?  What is the matter?”  Cerberus asked.

“I…I recognize him.”  Tailz said.  “He’s one of ours.”

Travis sank to his knees, tears in his eyes.

“What do you mean recognize him?  He’s Fongen.”  Cerberus motioned to the uniform Travis was wearing.

Tailz shook his head.  “I was with him once, a while back.  He was supposed to infiltrate the Fongen, and he’s done a rather good job.  We’ll lose a valuable asset if he gets killed, and the Will won’t appreciate it one bit.”

Cerberus nodded and holstered his pistols.  “Well, at the least he can honestly say he gave over the information at gunpoint.”

“Not if he says nothing at all.”  Tailz looked again into Travis’ eyes.  “Not. A. Word.”

Travis still said nothing as the two Scouts left the room.  He was dumbfounded.

Recognize me?  But… I’ve never met you before in my life…

The console beeped.  Blindly, he made his way to the desk, and looked at the message.  He sighed and nodded.  At least the other mission was a complete success.  He tapped a button and opened the craft-wide comm.  “This is Captain Travis.  The intruders have made it to the executive offices.  All men report to the main offices on the double.”  Turning off the comm, he nodded to himself.  That should clear the path back for the two Scouts.

Thinking, Travis sighed.  He had bugged the admiral’s room before he came on board.  The admiral had supposedly been placed by the Union as well, but was suspected as doubling for the Fongen.  Since the admiral had not known of Travis, Travis was going to expose the admiral to the Fongen, and they would punish him just as bad for treason as the Union would.

So by now, Travis’ own conversation with the Scouts had been recorded and communicated to the Fongen’s intelligence. 

The first men arrived at his office.  He pointed to the admiral.  “Check him out,” Travis said.  “I’m going to look for the others.”  He holstered his pistol and jogged into the corridor, not looking back.

* * * * *

The Terra Prime has landed in the loading bay.  Heir waited outside the bay.  The bay doors closed, and the room pressurized.  Heir hit the button, and strode into the bay, the engineers at his heels.  The Terra Prime’s cockpit opened, and Tailz and Cerberus stood upright.  When a third man rose as well, Heir froze, instinct drawing his phase lance.

Cerberus put up his hands.  “It’s okay, Heir.  This is one of the Fongen infiltrators, who was compromised during this whole mission.  Meet Lieutenant Franklin Travis, with Union Intel.”

Heir frowned.  “Are you sure he is one of ours?”

Travis folded his arms.  “Beta-Alpha-Seven-Six-Beta.”

Cerberus blinked in confusion.  “What’s that?”

Heir lowered his weapon.  “That’s the security code of the message we got stating that this was all a setup.  It was you who alerted us.”

Travis shrugged.  “Much good it did anyone.  You accomplished your mission anyway.”

“And you accomplished yours,” Heir said, pointing at the engineers.

Tailz spoke up.  “What are you talking about?” 

“Mr. Travis’ plan depended on us foiling the setup, so that we would capture their engineers and take them to Union space.  It would be the only innocent way to get them transported without note.  They are Travis’ men.”

Travis frowned at the engineers.  “What does he know?”

The lead engineer bowed his head.   “We told him only what we needed him to know, we assure you,” he said.  “He was not exactly in the mood for taking prisoners.”

Travis nodded, assuming he knew what that meant.  “Please forgive me, but I need to keep this top secret from everyone but the Will.” 

All the Scouts nodded.  Except for Heir.

Travis nodded to himself.  “Well, let’s get a move on.  I gave a number of conflicting orders to keep everyone over there confused, but I’d like to be gone by the time they realize that not only is the admiral dead, but their captain is missing too.”

Cerberus placed a hand to his helmet.  “Blank, did you get that?”

Yes, Commander.  Waiting on your word.

“We’re aborting the infiltration mission for now.  Travis’ info will not work, since he’ll soon be branded a traitor of the Fongen.  We’ll take him and his men back to Intel for debriefing.  Then we’ll report to the Will.  Blank, take us out.”

The Zeroth slowly pivoted away from the Ire, and aimed into space.  The engines thrusted, and the Ire of Mandala quickly became a small speck in space, before blending into the stars.