

Betrayal

Book Three of

Allies and Adversaries

By

Kevin Gordon

Copyright © 2011 Kevin Gordon

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.
Chapter 1

In the 18th century PD, Novans and Rell fought several great wars. This was in the advance of the colvition technology that would dominate their lives and revolutionize warfare. Projectile weapons were the most advanced warfare of that time. These wars, collectively known as the remote-control wars, were most notable for the use of remotely guided robots to do most of the fighting. A base would be established nearby, and great machines—some with treads, some able to fly, some able to primitively walk, would fight each other, the goal being to destroy the other's robot army, then destroy the opponents command center. Mostly these resulted in protracted fighting with little battlefield gains. This mode of warfare ended in 1815, when a rogue general of the Rell army sent his robots into the Novan civilian population. The scenes of those metal men cutting down the innocent, with blank expressions, and the fear of fully independent, semi-sentient fighting machines doing this, brought about the Honor in Battle treaty. This treaty established that all had the right to see the face of their opponent, to have the honor of dying at the hands of a souman being. Even after the inclusion of the meta-sentients in the Novan population, they were never used for civilian pacification, or in war against the Rell.

Agilia ascended the shaftway that led to the Locus of Mal in the Ehlios, her mind consumed with fear and anxiety, her brown and gold robe flitting in the air as she made the short journey. Always the journey was filled with a slight dread, always she was relieved when it was over and she could relax out of Mal's presence. She stood now with her hands clenched at her sides, and her face wearing an expression of tightly controlled fear. Riding with Reltan and Suldhaj, they were all summoned by Mal for an emergency conference.

Mal may be a machine, but I know Mal's moods, thought Agilia. And this roa Mal is definitely in a bad one.

Word had spread quickly through Malhrer about the defeat and death of Rhonva. The absolute respect the three Monitors wielded was replaced with sly eyes, muted gossip, and turned heads.

We got nothing out of that encounter. We lost agents, lost our best contact with Kolob. We worked so long to build the friendship between them, and now what? Nahlai will be there to console him, to fill that void in his life. She will have him at her beck and call, a slave to her whims. It would take too long to install another agent to replace Rhonva.

The three of them exchanged few words, for they all knew what they were in for. Most Monitors served distinguished tenures, and retired to a life of comfort as honored elders. But over the long history of the TELREC there had been those who brought disgrace to Mal, who either ignored or disobeyed his commands. They were put to death, their names forever equated with failure and dishonor.

I must take responsibility for this. It was my command that initiated this.

Agilia had distinguished herself early in her service of the TELREC, much in the same way Listras had. She executed missions with a machine-like precision and always upheld the philosophical foundations that formed the basis of what it meant to be a TELREC. She trained hundreds of agents, and many of those agents distinguished themselves as well. She earned the reputation of being a master; one who was adept at physical as well as mental warfare, a thorough instructor, and a valued mentor. She learned almost every form of combat, knew many of the old languages, even had a basic understanding of many of the sciences. Most of all, it was her creativity that caught the attention of Mal. Not all missions were simple—some Novans welcomed the opportunity to try to best TELREC. She had several missions where it was only her ingenuity and her resourcefulness that saved the roa. She studied stratagem religiously, pouring over the old wars between the Rell and Novans, even going as far back as civil wars among the Iqui. There was no direct comparison between the way they waged warfare with guns and bombs, and now, with mental attacks, emdec cannons, and microscopic meta, but there were some standards that stood the test of time.

Like underestimating your enemy.

From the moment Rhonva died, she switched into high gear. Her focus was clear—the enigma of Graid.

His power is nothing short of amazing. Listras was the best, a warrior unlike any other we possess. And yet, there were no sensor records of a great battle between herself and that Kal-Alçon. I got the feeling she was dispatched quickly and quietly, all her training and knowledge useless in the moment of crisis. And Rhonva! What he lacked in the sheer force of Listras, he made up for in cunning and guile. Both now lost!

She could not recall losing so many prime agents in so short a period of time. When they engaged the Rell in battle before, agents would usually survive, but their minds would be in a state of disrepair, entailing many cas of reconstruction. Of course they had very few conflicts before Rhonva and Graid's. Death was uncommon, as both cultures were fairly evenly matched. Hence the genetic program to create agents like Rhonva.

And yet he was destroyed in an instant! We felt him eliminate some Rell, felt the power he had hidden from us, felt him almost destroy Nahlai. Then . . .

Sometimes, Agilia felt she wasn't quite ready for the responsibilities thrust upon her. Though to all outward appearances she was a strong, confident woman, possessed with clarity of thought and surety in judgment, internally, she doubted herself. She knew one of her faults was to mull over problems, to look at different possible solutions and become mired in the quicksand of her mind. She had eyes that reflected this trait; large, and brown, they reminded one more of peace and serenity, of a simple nature, rather than the narrow gaze of a Monitor. She could be called beautiful, would have been called lovely, if dressed in long, flowing garments reminiscent of long ago. Her hair was thick and luscious, her mouth upturned in a smile, with thick lips ripe and full and a creamy caramel-colored skin that was spectacularly flawless. Unconsciously, she knew of this latent image, and worked to counter it. Her clothing was as sharp and severe as her attitude. She never married, feeling her feminine, nurturing side would assert itself and dominate the false persona now inhabiting her body. But once in a while, in moments when everything seemed to be against her, she longed for a warm embrace, for those words from a lover cherished above all others; 'it'll be alright.' Instead she looked within, walling off emotions to permanently hibernate in a sheet of ice.

They ascended through the portal into the Locus of Mal, the holiest place for the TELREC, a place never seen by anyone except the Monitors. Not a room or enclosure, it was merely a circle of area delineated on the outside of the Ehlios, set on the exterior hull itself. The void was open all around them, the only enclosure being an energy barrier created by Mal. Agilia could feel the chill of the hull even though her shoes. Nothing struck fear in her heart like standing in the black void, with what little atmosphere kept in place by the invisible workings of Mal. The Ehlios was turned in its orbit so the sentient sun was situated off to their right.

A small sphere of plasma energy coalesced and hovered off to the right of the Monitors, in front of the sun, as they knelt down awaiting Mal's cast. Glowing a fierce white, it throbbed in front of them, pulsating with raw information channeled as energy. Electricity arced around the Monitors, passing back and forth at a speed almost invisible to the eye. Mal explained to them early in their tenures that each strand of current carried a million terabytes of data, and yet that massive amount of information was minuscule compared to what passed between the toroid and the sentient sun. Mal only communicated by cast, never presenting any representation to them other than the sphere now before them. As Mal cast, the sphere would illuminate a little more, and if Mal was angry, it became almost blinding, the sun itself seeming to pulse with Mal's words. The invisible dome housing the atmosphere would pulse with current also, sometimes occasionally, sometimes in a wave so thick the entire ship seemed to be alive with energy, glowing as a star to those who inhabited Malhrer.

Mal itself was spread throughout the entire Novan world. In every computer, every implant, even in each minuscule temperature regulator on a hot tray was a fragment of Mal. Mal could, if it desired, become aware of the entire planet at once; by TELREC estimates up to eighty percent of it. Mal though knew the figure was more like ninety-five percent. The TELREC knew in their hearts that Mal was self-aware, that it was a consciousness, even if no one else recognized it. They felt Mal had absorbed so much information just in its first thousand cas of operation, that it was better suited to make judgments for them. When it came to the time-line, Mal's decision was final, and was never questioned. Monitors may, as Reltan, Suldhaj and Agilia had, dispute words not cast, and act independently, but at their own peril.

^You have acted in defiance of me.^

Mal's voice resonated through their minds, a harmony of a thousand others, unified in some divine balance. Mal retained the initial voice programming by the thousand or so technicians were its creators, so many millenniums ago. He felt it necessary to keep their voices, to never forget the primordial slime from which he was born.

^Yes, Mal,^ Agilia replied firmly. Simple answers were best, the only chance to escape certain death. Never had Agilia felt more in jeopardy, more like she could cease to exist in mroas, or even brief tils.

^This is the second time, is it not?^

^Yes Mal.^

^And both times, failure?^

^Yes Mal.^

The sphere dimmed for a moment, and all three Monitors took joy in the pause.

^Suldhaj, why have you done this?^

^We Monitors agreed the time had come for action. Kolob was moving out of Rhonva's sphere of influence.^

^Reltan?^

^We agreed the risk of losing contact with Kolob was becoming too high. We needed him isolated as the time of the Ascension approached.^

^You doubt me?^

Agilia felt pain in her chest. Doubt was not a word used in association with Mal, only certainty, assurance, infallibility. She was the one to cast, addressing to Mal the doubts the three of them had.

^Mal, we are humble before the sun that is you, abased in your chapel. We, faithful servants, come here with questions, seeking respite from a sea of uncertainty.^

^I summoned you, three Monitors that have strayed from my way!^ The cast was like a tremor that shook the hull itself, infecting every synapse in their minds with Mal's words. ^Now—Reltan!^ cast Mal, his words slammed into their consciousness. ^What are your doubts?^

Visibly shaken, he summoned the courage from within to question his Holis.

^I have a few, Mal.^

^You wonder about the failure of Listras?^

^Yes Mal. She was selected by you, and we could see no error in judgment. She was so strong, so faithful, and yet failed so utterly in the face of the Rell Kal-Alçon. There are even tremors in the cast-net that she may be alive, yet unresponsive. This further confuses us, as we are unable to find her.^

^You wonder about the failure of Rhonva?^

^Yes Mal. He was one of our most important agents; he had almost full control of Kolob, that is, until Nahlai came. Should we have had a female agent there from the beginning instead? What of the questions of Kolob's sexuality? We lost a massive investment when we lost Rhonva, so much training was invested in him. He would have been a perfect candidate for Monitor in twenty cas.^

They tread on uncertain ground, thought Agilia. Mal has never been one for explaining himself. We have endangered ourselves enough.

^You wonder about the unforeseen strength of Graid?^

^Yes Mal. We observed the recorded confrontation between him and Rhonva, and the power readings were beyond imagination. We believe he may have enough power to compromise even our security. Is it wise not to enlist Kolob, and begin training him, so he can defeat the Rell?^

^You wonder at the growing dissent within the Leviathan and its citizens?^

^Yes Mal. Politicians are for the first time in so many millennia casting openly about us, questioning our motives, doubting our authority. The destruction of SC-1 was more of a catalyst—too many questions were raised. The Iganinagi still remain strong, and have drifted farther out of our sight, a menace waiting to be realized. Our agents could not extract all the information from Ksilte, and we believe there are other variables he knew about that may prove to be of concern. We see crisis building all around us, and we are but weak flesh and blood, begging reassurance.^

That's good, abase yourselves in his majesty.

^Agilia?^

^It is my fault, Mal. I suggested we isolate Kolob. I knew you had been ambivalent about Kolob's path, and felt you would not approve this action. It is my fault we lost Rhonva, and suffered a defeat at the hands of the TELREC.^

Mal was null for a few moments. Agilia looked beyond the pulsing orb in front of her, to the black depths which threatened to consume her. Far, far below lay the interior of the TELREC moon. She glanced for a moment on the beautiful blue that lay as a carpet above those below, the pristine buildings which housed those not accountable as she was. For a while, before she became a Monitor, she resided on that surface. That was the last time in her life that she looked on the sun as a welcome beacon of hope, as a source of warmth and nourishment. It was the last time she lived without the all-consuming fear that was her Holis. Agilia was jolted out of her reverie by Mal.

^I am the sentient sun, the most advanced being ever created in the cosmos!^ slammed Mal, as the three  
Monitors instinctively bowed their heads. ^I have perfected myself over these millennia, so those who serve me would have implicit faith in my judgment. My word, my decisions, shall not, will not ever be corrupted! Suldhaj, you know the penalty for failure of this degree?^

^Yes, Mal.^

^Execute.^

Suldhaj knelt on the floor, his gold-trimmed robe pooling around him, a robe he had worn for near forty cas with pride. He concentrated, activating a termination program.

^Best success, Mal.^

In a moment he collapsed, null and dead.

^Reltan, you know the penalty for failure of this degree?^

^Yes, Mal.^

^Execute.^

^Wait. Mal, please.^ Agilia stepped forward, though she knew this did not bring her closer to the sentient sun. ^I am responsible for the failure. Let him live, and I willingly sacrifice myself. He was merely following my commands!^

^You three are equals, or do you think I have forgotten? You, Agilia, may settle disputes, but all three share equally in the responsibility. Now be null! Execute, Reltan.^

Reltan focused his mind, and in a moment lay motionless on the black hull.

^Agilia, do you know the most difficult thing for Novans to truly grasp?^

She stood, her chest sunken and heavy, feeling death was as close as the clothes on her body.

^No, Mal.^

^The concept of ultimate accountability and responsibility. Novan culture has grown so weak, so decadent, that the capacity for heroic acts have been all but eliminated. I was ready to execute you, along with the others, but saw that you recognized your mistake, and are able to move beyond it.^

Agilia managed to take a quick, deep breath, one that prevented her from collapsing on the metal hull. ^Thank you Mal.^

^Agilia, I never forget that I am perfect. Souman hands may have made the toroid that encloses the larger part of me, but over the millennia I have evolved into this being you sense before you. You, and others like you, have not. You will make mistakes. And as long as you can recognize them as such, I can accept them. Not too many of them, but a few. Do you know the third mistake you made?^

^Assuming you were ambivalent towards Kolob's future. You know the future.^

^Correct. You are merely 'monitors,' those that oversee the information I dispense, and delegate souman-power to accomplish my directives. You wield great power, but have never been put in a place to question my decisions, or to make your own, independent of me. I can see so far ahead, my visions have been validated for so long now, that your faith in me should be replaced by absolute trust. By the surety of knowledge of an absolute. Do you understand?^

^Yes, Mal.^

^It is crucial that you do. There is something printed in my service hatch. Retrieve it for me.^

Near her rose a cylindrical pillar, metallic and smooth. The top opened, revealing a sheet of white paper with printed words on it.

^Paper—quaint, isn't it?^ cast Mal, almost jovially. ^I keep some around. There is no better proof than the printed word; it is one of the few methods of communication that can be reliably dated through science. Read what is on it.^

^'Prediction: the Monitors will send Listras to retrieve Kolob. They will then send Rhonva to acquire Kolob. Prediction: they will fail, first at the hands of the Rell agent known as Martel, secondly when Graid reveals himself and the nature of his power.' Do you believe me?^

^Yes Mal,^ she cast, downcast.

^I knew of your actions, yet I allowed them to be. Rhonva was becoming too dangerous; he actually possessed power that he was hiding from you. I could feel it, had predicted it, and knew that if left alone, he would have joined the Rell. He was beginning to feel regret, beginning to question acts he had done. Though he would still be defeated, he would have caused much disruption in this sphere. It also allowed me to perform several scans on the performance of Graid, and assess his threat potential.^

^What have you discovered?^

^When you need to know, I will provide you with the information!^

Several plumes of plasma rose from the sun, as the orb in front of her crackled with power. She stepped back slightly, bowing her head.

^Yes Mal.^

^Tell me Agilia, what are your predictions for the future.^

Mal asking me? Not only had he rarely ever shown such mercy, but to ask an opinion of another?

^I . . . I believe the Rell are gearing for a major assault. That is obvious. What is not obvious is why keep Kolob on Novan, rather than abduct him? Why not fight him now, if Graid is so powerful? Why have so many agents on Novan? Why not reveal to him the power he possesses?^

^And your conclusions?^

^Graid is not as powerful as Kolob. He may be the second most powerful being in existence, but Kolob is still the Cuhli-pra. The other questions lead me to believe they need him for something. They know that even if they took him to Rell, and polluted his mind against us, they run the risk of never eradicating his loyalty to Novan. They need him for something in the short-term, for a period of time in which he will not form doubt. That is why Nahlai is there, to further convince him.^

^And why so many agents on Novan?^ Mal asked, the orb in front of her pulsing a little brighter.

^I don't know. They would only need a few to monitor Kolob. They could never hope to have enough to challenge us. Too many agents would show wakes in the chronicle field. The Rell are a patient, planning people. And yet, they possess the capacity to be impulsive, and daring. For all we know their Kal-Durrell may have directed them on this course. Maybe, like you, they have seen something in the future, that makes their presence on Novan necessary.^

^What have we learned from your supposed failures?^

Agilia permitted scarcely a pause, as she shifted her thought processes.

^We know more accurately what Graid may be capable of. We have altered the training of our agents to counter the Rell threat with greater effectiveness. We are learning which of those in the Leviathan truly support us, and which may prove to be dissenters. Uld is securing the Leviathan with pro-TELREC representatives, effectively negating the threat the Leviathan once posed. We see the seeds of rebellion take root in some communities, and see it destroyed in others. We also see the rebellion with greater clarity as more of their members have surfaced from the underground, especially after the destruction of SC-1, and their agents. We now believe there may be thousands, hundreds of thousands who have pledged their support to Ksilte, and that this may be the information he died keeping secret. The more we make those people move, now that they have left the safety of their ordinary lives, the greater the chance they can be captured and eliminated. More than likely, they have retreated to the safety of the Iganinagi, so all efforts must be directed to exposing all of their cells.^

^Do you see a plan to all of this?^

^We understand the necessity of knowing one's enemies, but we are not sure we have the resources to defeat them.^

^What has been the guiding principle of my creation?^ asked Mal. ^Of our dominance over the Novan people?^

^The creation of the Cuhli-pra.^

^And if I were to tell you that this Cuhli-pra will be servant to us alone? Does that quell your doubts?^

Agilia thought for a moment. ^I see the wisdom.^

^When Kolob becomes aware of his power,^ cast Mal, ^and acts on our interests, we can purge this world of all those who would stand against us. I will fill in some of your information: Listras and Rhonva were actually dangerous elements, who were sacrificed to learn more about Graid. Both harbored sympathetic feelings towards the Rell. It was buried deep down, but it was there. And they knew enough about us to be a serious threat. With the death of two so powerful, it has galvanized the rest of the TELREC to redouble their work, to reinforce their hatred, to never give pause when confronted with killing a Rell.^

^I understand, Mal. Thank you.^

^Never forget, this framework for the future is irreversible. No single deviation, no random occurrence could upset its progression. Only the concealment of something truly massive could upset achieving our vision of the future, and that is impossible. I, Mal, affirm it to be so.^

Mal said there were some events that could place circumstances beyond Mal's control . . .

^You wonder Agilia, at my words from before? I have factored in all possible deviations, and I have found nothing could upset our plans. You have no conception of this world without all random elements—all those who would disrupt our order dead and burning, their ashes drifting into the void. We have not taken the Cuhli-pra in because I do not wish it. See how our enemies make themselves visible, as the supposed crisis-time comes closer? When we are through, only the faithful will survive. Only the faithful will give birth to a new generation of TELREC, filled with men and women eager to oversee the exploration and dominance of this universe. Then, and only then, will my services no longer be needed.^

^Agilia,^ continued Mal, ^you have drawn some good conclusions. I do not cast you everything, because your ignorance of the future is what helps it to shape in the way I see. I guide you gently, as well as all of Novan, so the future created is stable, and permanent. Their Kal-Durrell know the same. They can see somewhat into the future, and know it must be gently shaped. There is a reason for the Rell presence on Novan. There is a reason they are courting Kolob. There is a blind spot, for me. There is a factor that I cannot determine. There are a few things that can create this for me. Things physically placed before I was created, and whose knowledge was hidden to my creators, would cause a disturbance. Manifestations of power that I am not familiar with would cause such an anomaly. All I can cast is that it centers on Graid, Kolob and Nahlai. Do you know where Nahlai lives?^

^No, Mal.^

^Do you have an idea where the Rell might have a base of operations on Novan?^

^No, Mal.^

^Then your path is clear, is it not?^

^Yes, Mal.^

^And Agilia, never forget the lesson you have learned here on this roa.^

^Yes Mal.^

^I recruited you, because I saw you possess the capacity for brilliant leaps of instinct, and intuition. You are never to follow up on those leaps, without consulting me first. Do you understand?^

^Yes, Mal.^

^Good. Stand still.^

Agilia stood as stone, and could feel the atmosphere around her grow close. The bodies of Suldhaj and Reltan soon floated free from the ship, and drifted towards the sentient sun. Agilia had only seen this happen one other time, and it disturbed her to no end at night, in her dreams.

^Qergien and Raent will become their replacements.^

^Yes Mal.^

^I have also instructed you to activate Denged for wider service. Do you understand the rational?^

^He is a random element, Mal. Though he appears to be mentally balanced, he went through severe trauma at our hands and at the hands of the Rell.^

^At the hands of one, particular Rell, correct?^

^Yes Mal. At the hands of Nahlai.^

^He is totally focused now on his hatred of the Rell. He is the perfect agent for the present time. He will spearhead your hunt for Nahlai, and the purging of all rebel elements. I now formally command you to eradicate all rebel elements from the face of Novan, and her colonies in the void.^

Agilia held back a sigh of relief. ^Thank you Mal.^

^I sense you have a plan for the Iganinagi?^

^Yes Mal. With Denged, we have activated an agent, as an opportunity is presenting itself.^

^Good. The time of the Ascension is coming near. All other concerns must be marginalized, before our final conflict with the Rell. See to it, Agilia.^

As Agilia descended back into the bulk of the Ehlios, Mal's enormous mind centered on the anomaly recently noticed—a question of temporal dynamics relating to Kolob and the Rell located somewhere on Novan. Mal felt it as early as the incident with Kolob at Illint Plaza, when Listras was sent in, after it was deduced Martel would be there.

I was right, and it wasn't based on available data. I knew he would be there. The Rell have done something with time, I can feel it. And every test I make to prove it has the same results. They can only be after one thing—the Cuhli-pra. If they possessed time travel, they would want to destroy him. But he is a fourth, or even fifth-dimensional being. He cannot be destroyed by them. Could it be corruption? Could they want to corrupt him in the past? What if he were never born? But he exists now, and in all the hereafter, so that would be an impossibility.

Mal though long and hard on those questions, the sphere of plasma fading as the sun pulsed within its torodial housing.

I know the answer to this question. I know it. It is as if the answer is within me, but I cannot access it. That is impossible. I am Mal. I must see and know all . . .

Chapter 2

Before the creation of ExterNovan, before the decline of Novan civilization, there was a revolution in architecture. Though much space was created after the Great Migration, it was quickly filled by the Novans. By 4200, population density had become the most pressing problem. Too many people were unwilling to settle in colonies on the outlying moons. It was then that the 'grid' system was born. Whereas before buildings towered at most 120 stories in height, the grid system allowed buildings to stretch up to 400 stories. This was accomplished by a segmented support system, but more importantly, by running connecting passageways between buildings. To start, four buildings were constructed, each structure the corner of a square. Then, at the bottom and middle third of each building, connecting beams would link one building to another. This square of buildings would be used as a kernel, around which whole cities would be built. Though the grid system provided space for the first time in many centuries, it also began the eventual separation of classes that the construction of ExterNovan cemented.

To be on Novan without a link to the cast-net was to be among the most vulnerable of creatures. Without it, Novan became a dark, sprawling place, with little visible markers about place, or direction. Without it, the only noises one heard was the machinery—grinding of gears in transports, the click of the meta as they patrolled, and cleaned under the feet of the passersby. Without the cast-net, one turn could lead a young child into death, or a woman into the enemies she forgot existed.

Dobrin realized this, shortly after his release from the club. No one even cleaned him up, or hosed off his own excrement. He has to scrounge around in the trash for his old clothes, and he only found half of those. When he asked for help, speaking in his pathetic, sad voice, people looked down at him and laughed. One he got his clothes on, he headed out into a world he didn't know, and soon learned to keep his mouth shut.

He traveled for many roas, keeping in the shadows, moving slowly, crouching and hiding. The faces of the women who abducted him were vivid in his mind, and they kept reappearing on anyone who passed by. He knew he was lucky to be alive, that the woman in the club should have killed him, but something in her eyes, at that last moment, reminded him of a look his mother would give him, something akin to compassion.

The club he left was in the middle of one of the worst pleasure-districts in that province. Several times he needed to defend himself with a knife he had found in his travels, once even drawing blood from a man who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. In those districts the TELREC had no need to venture within, as most of the people there were assigned there by Mal. They were the people on the lowest rungs of the genetic scale, of below-average intelligence, prone to addiction, short-sighted and most with a compromised sense of morality. After nine millennia the TELREC had become quite adept at shifting the makeup of a society. If a group of neighbors started to bond, to cast of larger issues, several of them would be reassigned in their jobs, and be forced to move away. And some of this low rung would be reassigned, and move in.

After several roas of wandering in a safer section of the city a hard rain came down, soaking everything, a blanket of water cold and wide. Dobrin searched for a droa after it started for shelter, testing doors, listening through windows. He saw and heard things he never could have imagined during his time wandering—cursing, crying, beating, the sound of breaking bone, the drip of blood, sex—so much he couldn't believe. And once in a while, he even heard the sound of a person dying, the low moan, the final breath. And after one of those deaths, he heard laughter that shook him, laughter that soaked through like the rain, digging rivers through his clothes, working its way into his pores, to become a part of himself.

Finally he found an open door into a room seemingly deserted. He couldn't tell what building it was in—it was too dark, and he needed to keep hidden. He curled up in a corner and relaxed for a mroa, peering through the crack he left in the doorway to the rain that pounded relentlessly into the ground. Thunder came, in great, wide claps, with lightning high overhead. It gave him glimpses around the room—he saw several overturned chairs with the first strike, some icons under wraps with another. He recognized them from the times he went to Iggaraout with his father.

My father.

He had pushed the image of his father, and mother, out of his mind soon after he was abducted. It was the only way he could be strong. He crawled over to the idols, pulling off the wraps. He could see the icon of Inhuf, with his faithful sword at his side. His father always pointed out Inhuf as a symbol of strength, and defiance. His father had said that no matter what, one must be true to themselves, and never, no matter what the cost, never sacrifice those beliefs. He saw his father in that small statue, standing tall, a man of unimaginable strength to him. Dobrin lay back against a wall, and wished very dearly his father was with him.

Another lightning strike, bigger than before, illuminated a back part of the room, and Dobrin saw what seemed to be a leg sticking out. Fear rushed through him, fear of that laughter of death, of someone who could kill for pleasure. The thunder stopped, and Dobrin could hear a low moan from that area.

They must still be alive.

His father, though a rich and powerful man, was one of the few who helped the less fortunate. He felt education was most important—not the education of facts and figures, for they were too easily gotten from the cast-net, but education of potential, of things besides drugs, liquor, sex and violence. The potential of the future, of what could be. Dobrin knew his father, and his father always helped those in need. He looked over at the idol, and slowly moved over to the moaning figure.

It seemed to take an eternity, climbing over the space between himself and the figure. The lightning didn't come as much, but the thunder still bellowed, blotting out the sound even of the rain. Finally he came close, and could see the figure was under a blanket, moaning. He pulled away some of the blanket, and saw it was a woman, and apparently nude. She looked very bad with bruises covering most of her skin, dried blood sticking in black patches over her skin. Dobrin found her face and cradled her, so he could see it. Hair stuck to her face, and he heard her moan more. Dobrin debated with himself, a part of him sure that it would be best to move on, to leave this broken body to whatever may come, but the better part of him won, and he decided to speak.

"Are . . . are you alright, lady?"

He saw her face turn up, in his direction, and then she tensed, and scurried fast over into a corner. She drew herself into a ball of muscle, whining and crying.

"I won't hurt you," he said gently, as he crawled, slowly, over to her. "I can't hurt anybody. Please, it'll be alright."

Dobrin made it over to her, and put his arm on her shoulders. She leaned in, and grabbed him tightly, sobbing into his small chest. He sung to her softly, to calm her down.

"Give me a little time, and I'll turn teardrops into wine

sad times into bounteous joy

Look into my heart and see hope made from despair

grace born from misery . . ."

She quieted her tears, gazing absently off into the small world around them. The woman then looked at the youth's face, shocked to see someone talking to her without hitting her, or yelling, or raping. She was in a state of severe shock, but some things learned are never forgotten, and she was able to speak to Dobrin.

"What was that?" she asked tentatively.

"A song my mother always sung to me, when I was sad."

"What is the rest of it?"

Dobrin thought for a moment.

"Give me your little hand, give me all your heart

I'll keep them in a soulbox clear

I promise you my child, my love will keep them warm

Safe as your soul would be with me."

She sighed at hearing the words, and he could feel her body relax a little.

"What happened to you?" asked Dobrin. "Who are you?"

The lightning illuminated her face as she brushed aside her hair, revealing a face of muscle and discipline, devoid of intelligence.

"I . . . know you." Dobrin thought back, to the many faces imprinted with indelible ink onto his mind. "You . . . you . . ."

It was the woman in the club who spared his life, the woman, who for a moment, reminded him of his mother. It was the woman known as Listras. Dobrin didn't know what to do—he wanted to run, to yell, to beat and kick her. He saw in her the reason for his isolation, for his wandering through the streets. He pulled away, tension building in his chest.

"What's wrong?" she muttered, backing into a corner.

Dobrin backed away himself, drawing forth the knife he kept with him. Listras screamed, and drew the blanket around her again, pleading to herself as she rocked back and forth. Dobrin sat in a corner, next to an idol, looking at the woman who caused him so much pain.

What should I do? Should I kill her now, while she is like this? If I let her live, and she gets back to normal, what would she do to me?

He looked down at the knife that glittered in the night light, its handle still caked with a little blood from when he used it before.

I only cut him, though it was deep. Could I really kill someone?

He relaxed against the wall, feeling fatigue take command of his body. Listras also moaned softer as her eyes began to close. Dobrin fell into a light sleep, as the thunder abated for a while. He woke a short time later, his mind seemingly made up. He put his knife away, and came over to Listras, who started at his approach.

"I won't hurt you."

She looked him all around, searching for the knife.

"Don't worry. You'll be safe." He put his arm around her, and she nestled against him.

"Where am I?" she asked with fear in her voice.

Dobrin relaxed a little, and smiled.

"I don't know. I think we're in an Iggaraout—that's why it's so deserted."

Listras' mind struggled to form the associations, to find out what an 'Iggaraout' was, but was unable.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

Dobrin helped Listras to her feet, and remembered how tall she was. Her muscles, though covered with excrement, sperm and filth, were boldly there, testament to the many cas she spent as a TELREC.

"We need to get you cleaned up. And some clothes. Come outside with me."

Dobrin looked back and forth, making sure there was no one around. Then, he led Listras out into the thick rain, and used rags from inside to wipe the filth off of her. She lifted her arms, reaching into the sky, feeling the thick droplets caress her face. Dobrin cleaned slowly, working his way down from her shoulders, the highest he could reach. As he cleaned her back, he felt the bruises, the scratches, the scars from a lifetime of torture compressed to within a few roas. Light from a hundred buildings cast a thousand spotlights on the droplets falling on her body, making her shimmer as if covered in jewels. Dobrin finally worked his way to her feet, then stood up, and looked at her reaching into the sky. For a few moments, the rain that scared and chilled Dobrin was at once soothing and gentle, for it brought a smile to Listras' face, something which Dobrin thought was the most beautiful thing he had seen.

"Quickly, we must get back inside."

Dobrin dried her, and then wrapped her in cloth that covered the discarded idols. She fell asleep again quickly, but not after looking into his youthful eyes and thanking him. He pulled her close, putting her head on his lap.

Morning came slowly, thankfully to both Listras and Dobrin, as it was the first good night's sleep either of them had in a while. Dobrin looked down at her as she woke, and wondered what happened to her mind, to make her so . . . simple. He looked at her, physically with a child's eyes, yet they belied a complexity of emotion seldom found in one so young. It was a look of malice and hatred, yet concern and compassion. In an older man, one whose life would be stained with the bitterness of defeat and remorse, the hatred would have won, but in this simple youth, innocence still prevailed, and a forgiving heart. The instinct for compassion towards the less-fortunate his father had ingrained in him stayed a hand that would have killed, and as the roa matured it faded slightly, giving way to realism, and contemplation. He decided to speak with her again.

"Do you know what your name is?"

As she woke, Listras hurriedly curled into a ball, backing into a corner, her muscles tense with anticipation. She saw what lay behind his eyes, for she had seem so much of it over the past roas. So many men, with varying proportions of good and evil in their eyes, yet all of them hurting her, beating her, violating her. She saw that good thing, that essence that was the soul crushed and squeezed out of their faces, till only the evil remained.

"No," she answered curtly. "Do you? You seem to know me."

Dobrin looked at her, this woman who tortured him for some unknown reason, then let him live. His mind still replayed his capture, and imprisonment, a vivid dream he powerlessly watched over and over again, every time the simplest thing reminded him of what Listras, and those others, did to him. He hesitated to tell her what he knew of her. He remembered her strength, her power, and he never wanted those to come back. His stomach felt sick.

"If I told you, you might not like it."

She looked down for a moment, thinking of his words, and the effect they could have on her.

"Why? What did I do?"

Dobrin sighed, wishing he had something to drink, something to soothe his nerves. He looked on her pleading face, still covered a little with dirt and grime, and felt she was even more powerless than he.

"Well, this is what I know."

He spent the next droa telling her his experiences—how he was abducted, then given to the club, and the night when she fought the ulthangs and raped him. She never flinched, never took her eyes from his. He felt awkward telling the story; some part of him felt vengeance at last, in confronting his abductor, while another part felt he was sharing some deep part of himself, something that he knew would be buried as he grew up, never to surface again except in tortured sleep. He didn't cry, he couldn't—all his tears were spent long ago. When he was done, she ran outside, and vomited. Slowly, she came back in.

"I did . . . all that?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, incredulously.

"Because you're . . . not the same person you once were. And you saved my life that night."

Listras sighed, her mind slowly assimilating his, and hers experiences.

"They have done to me, what I did to you."

Dobrin sighed, his heart heavy with grief. "I would never have wished that on you."

"I . . . believe you, and that makes me even more sad."

She dropped to the ground, her head between her knees, and began to cry. Dobrin couldn't resist her. He crawled over, putting his arm around her, and cried with her. He felt the hatred he had for her slipping away, replaced with compassion, and concern. He didn't know what happened to her, but somehow, she was now his responsibility. Listras lifted her head up, brushing aside her hair, wiping the tears from her face, looking into his eyes.

"Where can we go from here?"

Dobrin collected himself, sitting back against a wall.

"I don't know. Do you have access to the cast-net?"

"What is that?" asked Listras.

Dobrin smiled. "It is how all the adults communicate. It is an implant that works with your mind to see things in your mind. I don't have one, 'cause I'm not old enough. Concentrate, and see if you can gain access."

"Concentrate on what?"

Dobrin thought for a moment. "Well, start with that building over there that reads 'Waste Reclamation RD-10.' Maybe it will tell you where that is."

Listras concentrated, thinking on the words 'Waste Reclamation RD-10.' And sure enough, just as she had remembered how to talk, the ability to cast came flooding back to her, along with the thousands of images projected every til of every roa, overwhelming her. She put her hands to her head, her face a contortion of pain.

"Make it stop! No! It's too much!"

Dobrin had heard of the first link-up to the cast-net. He was getting prepared for it, before his abduction.

"Just calm down. Concentrate on 'Waste Reclamation RD-ten.' Don't pay attention to anything else but those words. Relax, and think only of those words."

Slowly, the other images receded in intensity, and the facility they were looking at came up in her mind, as well as its spatial address.

"I know where we are!"

"Wow. That's great. Now, see if you can find my address. It's Silver Spire construct, number four-fifty-seven."

Listras said it out loud 'Silver Spire construct . . . number four-fifty-seven.' Within moments, she had a mental image of the structure, and its spatial address—about a droas travel time on the trans.

"We can be there in a droa, oh—you never told me your name."

"I'm Dobrin."

"And I don't know who I am. Wait, let me see if this cast-net can tell me."

Dobrin got worried. "Are you sure?" He still remembered the woman who raped him, the woman who could use this finely muscled body in front of him as a very lethal weapon.

"I—wait! My name . . . is Listras! I am . . . a TELREC? What is that?"

And for the next five mroas, Listras went on a mental journey, finding out about herself, researching names or terms she didn't know. She found she was quite adept at it, apparently those learned skills were still there, but none of the information she saw jogged her memory.

"Who were you?" he asked, tentatively.

Listras looked down at Dobrin, who stood beneath her with a growing expression of fear.

"I know who I was, but I don't know who I am now," she said, running her hand through his hair to soothe him. "I apparently was some warrior, some fighter, but . . . all that is gone. I'm sure the skills still remain, but I don't know what to use them for."

Dobrin sighed with relief. "I'm sorry, Listras, but I'm glad you don't fully remember."

Listras smiled, with a feeling of peace and relief the old Listras would not have believed.

"So am I. Let's get started to your home."

They started on the journey, with Listras mentally purchasing tickets with lottment from her account. She was quite honest when she said she didn't remember this person she discovered she was, but she didn't tell Dobrin about the nagging feeling inside her, about the clamor from the TELREC, trying to reach her, and about her driving need to see the Cuhli-pra. Her mind became a battlefield, where multiple forces fought for dominion. The TELREC summons was quite strong, a constant pressure on her mind that took great strength to nullify. They wanted her back, wanted her to cast to an agent, to Malhrer, anything to identify her position. The same bombardment that Kolob was unable to control also bothered Listras, as her mind was still not up to the complexity the cast-net demanded. She saw too many images and associations that she did not understand. Even the simplest thought conjured up a thousand images, each one more obnoxious than the last.

Most powerful was her need to see Kolob, to be near the Cuhli-pra. At first his image confused her, then it gave her comfort, until she reached a point where she knew she could not exist without him. Once she repaid her debt to Dobrin, atoned for her sins, she knew she must seek Kolob out, and be with him. She couldn't understand why, but it was something utterly irresistible.

Dobrin was also distracted on the trans. There were many people on them, and all he could think about was the crowd at the club watching him, enjoying his torment. They were faceless to him, without identity, and that made it all the worse. Any one of the people on this trans could have been there, could have watched him naked, violated in front of strangers, no one helping him. A part of his innocence was murdered that roa. He always thought good of people, had no reason to think them capable of great evil. But to have been left crying, alone like he was, with no one helping him, weighed heavily on his soul. He knew some of those people probably had children, led lives of great consequence, yet they were willing to stand and watch as he was being murdered. He knew he'd never trust anyone again, never be able to give of himself to anyone, without great reservation. He looked at them, their minds occupied on the cast-net, watching any of a thousand depraved broadcasts, uncaring to who suffered or died for their enjoyment. The hatred he thought buried resurfaced, this time with justification, and sowed seeds that would bloom into great stifling weeds as he grew older.

After two trans they came to stand in front of the building that he called home for most of his life. He felt his eyes mist to finally see a familiar place.

"I didn't think I'd get back here." He looked up at Listras, who bore a face of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Something I sense. Something about the TELREC," she cast, thinking harder, reviewing the casts in her mind. Complicated and intense, they gave her great pain, as she tried to decipher their meaning, sort through what was and was not necessary. Finally, she understood. "The TELREC want your mother. It is not safe here."

It had been a long while since Dobrin felt as crushed as he did then. He grabbed her hand harder, holding onto her physically for support.

"I thought it was finally over," he said looking back up at the building that gleamed in the mitterlight.

"We should run."

They bolted through the streets, Dobrin leading the way. They went through several old buildings, until at last they settled in the bowels of an old office building.

"What should we do?" meekly asked Dobrin, feeling the child that he still was reassert itself, making him once again small and powerless.

"I . . . I don't know," groaned Listras as she settled to the ground, her head throbbing. "I can't think anymore."

I wonder what happened to her, thought Dobrin. "Where else could we go?"

"Would . . . your mother, does your mother have any other place she would go?"

"I don't know that much."

Listras felt the pain recede in her head.

"Would she have thought you could be dead?" asked Listras.

Dobrin thought long and hard about his mother and father, the hope with which they seemed to face all aspects of life.

"No, they would have believed I might still be alive."

"Then they must have left some way for you to contact them."

"But no one communicates other than with an implant, on the cast-net. Anything they would have left for me, any sign, would be on that."

"And I'm sure I wouldn't be able to access it," said Listras. Then she perked up, with an idea. "We need to get you an implant."

"How can I?" asked Dobrin, becoming agitated. "Even if we found a place that would do it, I don't have any lottment."

"I do. Or rather, the old Listras did. I can sense it, on the cast-net."

Dobrin reflected on all he had seen since the club, all the perversions he stumbled across, or overheard.

"What's wrong, Dobrin?"

"I have seen so much!" he cried. "So much of the pain, so much of the death. And yet, even after all that, I know it pales in comparison to what is on the cast-net. I've also heard of the temptation, the way it consumes a person, with such unlimited pleasure. I would never want to become what I have seen."

Listras knelt in front of him, holding his hands.

"I have no doubt you will never become like them. Anyone who could forgive what I have done, and help me, has strength within them to overcome the toughest of obstacles, withstand the most tempting of sins. I will be with you, and by my life, I will help you through this."

Dobrin held her, and for a moment, all that existed was the two of them.

They were careful as they passed by several implant centers, Listras scanning her mind to see if there were many TELREC around. Some centers left a bad impression in her mind, a reminder of reports issued against them by CRODAM, or TELREC. Finally they walked into one—a dark, cramped hole two levels beneath a meta construction facility. Listras learned it was a place that catered to those in Foundation born away from chronicling, outside of the Leviathan, more than likely budding Iganinagi. An old man with leering eyes and lascivious thoughts cast to Listras, and finally performed the operation, Listras holding onto Dobrin's knife tightly, lest he make a mistake.

^It's done,^ cast the old man, smiling at Listras, looking at her body.

"Good. Dobrin, are you alright?"

Dobrin woke slowly, his head swimming. "I . . . I think so, I just—I don't feel anything."

"Just give me a mroa, little boy," said the old man sarcastically. "If I had that thing on while you were wakin', you'd be lost for sure. Now, here goes."

The man mentally activated the implant. Dobrin clenched his hands on the chair, as he felt the content race into his mind.

^It's . . . it's too much!^

^You gotta get used to it boy,^ cast the man, laughing at him. Listras knelt down beside Dobrin, and held his hand.

^I'm here, Dobrin. Try to focus on something, something you know!^

He tried, but felt his thoughts swimming along the current of content, drowning in its waters. As a new mind, thousands of ads sought him out and blared incessantly. He saw young girls walk seductively past him, their sheer leggings dissolving as he watched, their nakedness coming into view as they giggled and ran off into the distance, begging him to follow. He saw young boys tease and taunt him, coming a little too close, pressing into him, the firmness between their legs rubbing against him. Men with guns rushed past, firing primitive projectiles against an unseen opponent. A towering behemoth of a monster routed them, pulling apart their limbs, devouring their heads in perfect graphic detail. He watched as a boy his age pulled the legs off a crying small animal, as a group of girls ambushed an older man, pulling off his clothes, forcing him to do things before they smothered him and laughed as he died before them. He saw a hundred different ads for broadcasts cascade around him, each one laced with the temptation of sex, and violence. After a while, programs within the cast-net identified how to best sell to him. Images of calm and peace beckoned to him, an oasis of blue skies and open fields of green. He longed to lie in that sunlight, away from the filth of Novan, to finally feel at peace. He saw ads for a place called Ouitiano, with an older woman beckoning with open arms. He could sense Listras was somewhere, yelling something, squeezing some part of him. He wanted to focus on her, and yet felt the pull of the green field to be too strong.

It is, so beautiful, so peaceful. Why would I want to go back there?

Listras watched as his eyes glazed over, his body at first going rigid, then dissolving into jelly in the chair. The man laughed behind her.

^They all go like that woman! He'll be like that for roas, gettin' to feel everything, see everything. That's why their parents—at least the ones that care – come here with them, to help 'em through it all.^ He came closer to her. ^You related to him?^

^No. I'm just . . . a friend.^ She cast firmly to Dobrin. ^Come on, Dobrin, you don't have time for this! You're stronger than that!^

You're stronger than that.

Who said that? he thought, as he lay under the sun. A few young girls came over to him, sitting beside him under a tree that spread its branches far over him. They brought fruit, and laughed softly.

This is what my childhood should have been like, he thought, as they fed him some fruit. This is how it should have been.

^Dobrin . . .^

It was a woman's voice, that seemed to float on the clouds, almost as a birdsong.

^Dobrin . . .^

Another voice, echoing through the trees, as some wild animal foraging for food.

^Dobrin!^

He started, for the images of his mother and father appeared before him.

^We are here, Dobrin, in case we couldn't be with you, for this moment.^

^How?^ asked Dobrin, feeling some hope at last.

^We implanted this memory, this algorithm in your mind. We are here to bring balance, to steer you through this time.^

One of the girls pulled at Dobrin to sit back.

^Don't listen to them. They always want to spoil our fun.^ She ran her hand over his chest. ^You're having fun, aren't you?^

His father stepped forward. ^Son. You are more than this. You know that.^

Dobrin hesitated a moment longer, then stood in front of the image of his father.

^Yes I am.^

His father came, and put a hand on his shoulder. ^Life will be full of temptation, son. It is a cruelty of our society to tempt those least able to withstand it. We faced that temptation, and eventually overcame it. We promised ourselves, promised you, that you would never face such temptation alone.^

Dobrin's eyes welled with tears. ^I love you, father.^

^And I you, my son. I know not what prevented me from being here, at this time. Your mother and I love you, cherish you above all else. We have great faith in you, and know you will never let us down.^

Dobrin felt hope, for the first time in a long time. His mind felt clearer and stronger, his soul filled with a joy he had forgotten existed. ^I never will, father.^

^Good. We have held the full effect of the cast-net at bay, while we cesct. As we fade, so it will return. You need to focus on your center, on your very soul, to withstand its effects. It is not wrong to indulge yourself, for a time. You just must always do what's right, even in this imaginary world, where it seems as if all is allowed. There is much to learn, many things to become skilled at. Use the cast-net for your education, and you will become stronger than ever before, better able to capitalize on the opportunities life has to offer.^

^Thank you, father.^

They faded, and the cast-net surged in his mind. He felt the strength to repulse it, to negate its siren call. He opened his eyes, to see Listras looking down on him.

^Dobrin?^

^Yes, I'm back.^ He stood slowly, to the amazement of the old man.

^You're stronger than most, little man.^

Dobrin held onto Listras' hand. ^I have good friends.^

Listras smiled back, unable to hold back the tears.

^Come on.^

She led him out back onto the streets, Dobrin stumbling a little, as he still struggled to steel himself against the cast-net.

^How do you think I should try to find my mother?^

Listras thought for a moment.

^She would have to figure you would try, soon after getting an implant. Try to think of her name, of her image.^

^What about my father?^

Something about that suggestion bothered Listras.

^No, try to focus on your mother, for now.^

He did. He thought of her name, and gradually a location came into his mind.

^I think I know.^

^Are you sure? If the TELREC are involved with your mother, something bad, this could be a trap.^

^It felt like her, almost as if she were speaking to me.^ Dobrin paused for a moment. ^You have helped me so much Listras, if this is a trap, I don't want you to be caught as well. I can find my way – I even have access now to a small sum of lottment. I feel like if the TELREC get you again, you will be changed back into what you once were.^

She stopped, and knelt before him. ^I am with you Dobrin. I promised you that, and I meant it.^

Dobrin pulled away. ^This is hard to cast, Listras.^ He gritted his teeth, and swallowed the emotion welling inside him. ^Maybe you want to go back, to who you were. You were obviously someone strong, and powerful, someone who had a purpose in life. Living like this, you have none of that, and—^

^Dobrin.^ She pulled him close, tightly holding him. ^You are some special child to cast that. I never want to go back to who I was—never! I don't know why I did the things I did, I'm not sure I want to know. All that I do know is that I feel joy in seeing you smile, in helping you to find your way. I know whoever I was would not have taken joy in that. And that's why I will never be her again.^

Dobrin embraced her, overcome with sentiment. ^Then let's go.^

It was after a few more trans, and a slow descent into the upper levels of Foundation, before they arrived at the location Dobrin felt in his mind. They stood outside a door in a decrepit structure, dark and foul smelling.

^Are you sure?^ asked Listras, scanning the area with her mind.

^As sure as I can be.^

Listras smiled. ^Then what are you waiting for?^

He knocked, and in a moment, the door opened, slowly. A cautious looking woman, his mother, looked down on him with watering eyes.

"Dobrin?"

^Mom!^

They embraced, with Dobrin letting loose all the emotion he had kept bundled in him for so long. He cried an endless stream of tears, and Ellore did the same, finally feeling a chance at a future, now that she had some part of her past alive and well in her arms. She grappled onto him with hands of iron, and no matter how much it hurt, Dobrin never felt safer. Listras waited patiently behind Dobrin, feeling like her fate might be in Ellore's hands.

^Mother, this is a woman I found, and helped,^ cast Dobrin, as he finally broke from her embrace. ^And she helped me to find you. Her name is—^

^Listras,^ cast Ellore with malice. Dobrin and Listras looked on her with shocked eyes, while his mother looked on Listras with eyes of burning hatred.

^Wait, mother. She has been . . . hurt somehow. She remembers nothing of her past. When I found her—^

^This is a trick!^ spat Ellore, pulling Dobrin closer to her. ^They took your father, and now they play tricks with me! Damn them!^

She dragged Dobrin in through the door, despite his attempts to stop her. She almost closed the door, when he finally managed break free and stand in the doorway.

^Wait Mom! She's okay!^

It may have been her son's frantic emotions, or the look of utter despair on Listras' face, but she calmed for a moment. Listras came forward, her head lowered.

^You don't know who you are?^ asked Ellore.

^No. And you're not the first to notice.^

^What do you mean?^ demanded Ellore. Then she looked down and saw the bruises, the scratches and cuts on Listras' body.

^Some men, a lot of men, found me, and . . .^ cast Listras, looking absently into the space before her. Ellore had to turn away, so great was her empathy for Listras. She stifled a cry.

^You say she helped you?^ asked Ellore, turning to Dobrin.

^Yes.^

^You have an implant?^

^Yes. Thanks to her.^

^Dobrin, I trust you, but I need to make sure about her. I'm going to download your experiences from your mind. It won't hurt.^

^Go ahead.^

Ellore connected with her son's mind, and felt all he went through from when he first found Listras. She held him close and cried, looking intermittently at Listras, who stood uncomfortably nearby.

^I hate, or hated you, young woman,^ cast Ellore, ^but not even I would wish this on you. If my husband were here, he would have had pity on you, as my son has shown you.^ She took a deep sigh, as she resigned herself to a difficult decision. ^My name is Ellore. Come into my home, and be refreshed. Be careful though, I know who you are, or were. You have a lot more enemies besides those men who attacked you, and I dare say, a lot more people who would like to try to do worse to you.^

They walked in and Dobrin was amazed to see how much was taken from their old suite, Listras absorbed the small pieces of sentiment, reminders of Dobrin's childhood and Ellore's joining with Ksilte.

^I'm glad to see you, but what happened to you?^ asked Ellore, as she hugged him one more time. ^Do you know how long we searched for you?^

^I know mother. You won't like this, but a lot has happened.^ He glanced back at Listras. ^There is more, from before when you downloaded.^

^Then let me see in your mind—^

^No. I . . . don't feel comfortable sharing that with you, in that detail. Let me cast to you what happened.^

Dobrin proceeded to relate his long adventure, from his abduction, his rape, to his wanderings before encountering Listras. When he was finished, Ellore slapped Listras with all her might, drawing blood. Hatred burned in her eyes.

^Curse you TELREC!^ she slammed, with all the mental strength she could muster, as she spat in Listras' face. ^Damn you all! How much can you hurt us, how much will you take from us? We have given you our future, the most precious part of us, and still it isn't enough. You have robbed me of my love, my husband, you robbed me of my son's innocence and hope! And now you expect pity, from me?^

^Mom,^ cast Dobrin slowly, ^what do you mean about Dad?^

Ellore backed away, a sudden expression of pain sweeping over her face, as she had forgotten Dobrin knew nothing of his father's fate.

^Your father was taken by the TELREC. That is why I am here, why I had to leave our old home. I . . . I have . . . oh Dobrin. Your father died at the hands of the TELREC!^

^Why?^ Dobrin started crying, and Ellore drew him close as he sobbed.

^This is what happens to people who stand apart, those who dare to question TELREC plans, TELREC ideas, TELREC dominion. Your father was part of the Novan resistance. He was a great man! He tracked their every move, even knew about the Cuhli-pra!^

Listras jolted, part of her mind on fire at nesting those words.

^Your father was a hero of the people,^ ranted Ellore, the anger surfacing in her mind, ^a man who sacrificed easy wealth, power, and fame, to ensure we all would have a future.^ She scornfully flashed a hateful stare at Listras. ^Not just the chosen few. He believed we all had a purpose, that we all should use knowledge to advance ourselves. Some called him a Rell sympathizer, but he came to understand and appreciate the strength in their system—a system built on faith, discipline, and order. And now, to nest that you, a TELREC agent, abducted my son . . .^ She couldn't go on, images of what may have happened to her son playing in her mind, the closeness he came to death. Listras calmly sat on the floor, leaning against a wall, her head in her hands.

^What would Essile do at a time like this?^ asked Listras, her mind swimming in a sea of turmoil.

^What did you cast?^ asked Ellore, looking in amazement at her.

^Essile—she was a character the old Listras new. It's like I am one of those people that has knowledge, but cannot put it to use. I have knowledge about myself, who I was, but am unable to integrate it. Ellore, if you want me to leave, I will. I have done so much wrong.^

Ellore sat down, holding her son, who sat beside her. ^Who are you now?^

Listras looked up at her, a woman she didn't know, a woman who was probably her only hope, but who hated her in a way she had to accept.

^I don't know.^

Ellore sighed, looking hard at Listras.

^If you had cast anything else, I would have thrown you out. Maybe together we can find out who you are now.^ She wiped her son's tears, and lifted his head up. ^If you have forgiven her, then I must as well.^ She held her son close, feeling at once like she wanted to punish him for his forgiveness, yet knowing how precious a gift it was. ^You have a lot of your father in you, Dobrin.^

^I wish I could've seen him one more time,^ cast Dobrin. Ellore pitied her child, forced to deal with so much, so many things not meant for the innocent.

^I'm just glad to know you are alive, and with me at last.^ She breathed deeply. ^I feel as if I can begin to live again. I know he left you a remembrance. When you have rested, you should access it.^

^What will you do, Ellore?^ asked Listras.

^I will fight. My husband sacrificed his life to counter TELREC dominion, to try to forge a better world for all children to grow up in. I cannot rest while his dream goes unfulfilled. So long as we live in a world where the state sends its agents to kill and molest families of those who disagree with it, so long as the state does everything in its power to mollify its citizens, to drain them of all spirit and conscience, then those who have the power to affect change must do everything to bring about change, no matter the cost. I will not let those who believed in Ksilte down. I'm sure the TELREC got his associates, but they will not stop our movement. We segmented our organization, using only code names. The TELREC might be able to get some of them but not all.^ She paced around the room, finally picking up a small holo-image of Ksilte. ^We will wage a war on the TELREC, the likes of which even Mal could not imagine. I don't know how, or when, but we shall overthrow them. The Cuhli-pra is the key.^

The word 'Cuhli-pra' kept echoing through Listras' mind, weighing on her thoughts with a pressure almost unbearable.

^If we can either gain control of him,^ continued Ellore, ignorant of Listras' mental plight, ^or destroy him, then the TELREC will lose all support. People are tired of their enforced passivity. Dobrin, I will need you to grow up much quicker than I would have liked, but you can help avenge your father's death.^

Dobrin stood tall, and for a moment, Ellore could see the man she hoped he would become.

^I will do whatever is necessary.^ Dobrin glanced over at Listras, and could see the inner conflict written on her face. Her gaze was fixed, sweat pouring down her cheeks. ^Are you with us, Listras?^

Listras lost all pretenses at composure. She fell to the floor, clutching her head, a mental earthquake rocking her psyche.

^Listras!^

Dobrin rushed down to her side, cradled her head, and began to rock her back and forth as she sobbed and cried. Ellore was appalled for a moment, and almost yelled at her son for giving comfort to one who caused them both so much pain. Then she understood, and softened, her heart expanding and adapting to a level of compassion not even she was capable of before. She knelt beside them, rubbing her hand along Dobrin's back, as Listras' moaning abated.

^I can feel she has been hurt badly.^ Ellore searched through her mind. ^There are no defenses, and very little order. She is so damaged. Oh my . . .^

As she was linked, Listras had a vision of the Cuhli-pra. The Cuhli-pra, a being known to the old Listras as Kolob, stood on a platform, addressing the whole of Novan existence. He seemed radiant, full of an energy that could not be believed. Ellore could see victory all about him, as well as thousands of people clad in brown and gold robes. Ellore was amazed at the clarity of the vision; it was so real, so present in her mind. Ellore became aware of many things about Kolob, things her husband never told her for fear it could be casually gleaned by another. She broke off and looked down at Listras, whose eyes were darting wildly.

^That is the Ascension?^

^I . . . must . . . find him!^ cried Listras, as she shoved Dobrin aside and bolted to her feet. ^I must—I can't live otherwise!^

Listras ran out of the suite. Dobrin began to chase after her, but was caught by Ellore.

^She is confused, Dobrin!^ cried Ellore, as she struggled to restrain him. ^She is also quite strong, and we would be unable to contain her, to get her help. And I don't know what the TELREC would do with her anyway. We must let her go, Dobrin, we must!^ He sagged in her arms, letting loose a few more tears. ^I know who the Cuhli-pra is, and soon, so will many other people. Unwittingly, the TELREC have provided us with the key to their undoing.^

Dobrin waited for a moment as Ellore went back in, casting a few words for the woman who brought him so much pain, who seemed to be condemned to pay a terrible price for it.

I don't know what the future will bring you, Listras. I only hope, in some way, you find peace. If it means anything, I forgive you, and wish you well.
Chapter 3

Countless studies have been done concerning Mal; the psychology of Mal, the philosophy of Mal and the TELREC, the social impact of the chronicle. Of particular interest of late is the psychological makeup of Mal. It is wondered what effect seven thousand cas of chronicle had on the sentient machine. Mal assimilated trillions of lives, learned of their hopes, their dreams, their weaknesses and sins. And it was information without voice or context, merely the notations on the cast-net system of events that occurred, people that were met. Did Mal inject context? Did Mal identify with any of the Novan consciousness he created through the chronicle? Was Mal a logical machine, or did Mal inherit the souman idiosyncrasies? Did Mal appreciate beauty, or understand moral right and wrong? Did Mal have desire? Unknown to all but a few, Mal began scanning the brains of the dead, using technology Mal developed to assimilate all memory, directly from the source. Mal stated it was done to verify chronicles, to judge their accuracy. Only Mal knew any differently.

High above the gridwork that formed the basis for all life on Core, situated in the foundation crust of Topside, was a relatively small structure, camouflaged by rock, and debris. Called 'Uplarin' by the meta residing there, it was created in the same cas that Topside was built—created by meta, for meta. It housed a small production facility, a diagnostic and repair center as well as a command center. Surrounding Uplarin lay almost fifty-thousand canisters containing newly formed, highly-advanced sentient meta, all buried deep in the foundation rock, shielded by technology unknown to either the Novan, TELREC or Rell.

One would expect the command center for machines to be a sterile place, cold and devoid of life. While it was certainly cold, it was a beautiful sight to behold. Hundreds of sentient meta walked to and fro within the complex, giving it the appearance of a souman community in their interactions. Within the walls of that complex was architecture unseen on either of the globes. The meta long ago began to experiment with aesthetics, inventing their own ideology concerning form and function, design and art. All walls were made of transparent steel, colored with various hues. The meta had no sense of privacy, no need to isolate sections within their world. They experimented with textures on that steel, carving reliefs on some walls which depicted their progress through the millennia. On others, textures were meant to refract light through multiple walls, forming a unique work of artwork without substance.

The ceilings glittered as the facets of a jewel, sheets of transparent steel compressed and formed, reflecting what went on below. There were thousands of lights, three or four times as many as would be in an ordinary souman facility. And all over the walls and ceilings ran small cleaning meta, their bodies made of transparent alloy, seeming to conduct the light as a large brush on canvas. Statues adorned the various halls and rooms within Uplarin—some containing echoes of the programming of important meta of cas past, others of distinctly soumanoid things, such as flowers, rocks, or trees.

In a room that looked much like all the other rooms within Uplarin lay the inert carcass of M-5591—the supervisor meta from CC-87. Over it hovered five silver orbs, unique meta no souman had ever seen. Standing beside Ninety-One was Kolob's doctor, Ikthon, and next to him, Iltkon, the meta Suld cesct with in his shuttle near Gan-Elldon.

Ikthon was a unique creation in his own right. Not quite souman, not quite meta, he was an experiment to see how well flesh and blood could be married with the synthetic—the first of many. His body was organic, even his mind was organic. But he was a clone, a creation without consciousness. The meta downloaded the consciousness of one of their own into his cerebral cortex. He thought with the precision of a computer, yet was able to make intuitive guesses. The meta, like the Rell and Novans, had anticipated the birth of the Cuhli-pra, and took their own measures to watch over him, as well as try to create beings that could survive his Ascension.

And as Ikthon was the culmination of the integration of souman traits into the synthetic, so Iltkon represented the purging of all those traits. Though built in soumanoid form, Iltkon's anatomy was starkly different from any other functioning meta. No rotors spun his arms, no pumps sent fluid through his machinery. His body was a balance of different forces of magnetism, and he was powered by a revolutionary new electromagnetic source. He had little known physical limitations, as friction was all but eliminated from his working parts. The canisters surrounding Uplarin were filled with echoes of him—a terrible army if ever released.

The five orbs were aspects of the controlling intelligence of Uplarin, another direction the meta explored. Since they possessed no souman form, they had fewer limitations, but knew the soumans would never accept them in public. Those orbs were fierce advocates of meta-sentient life, to the point that they looked on Ikthon as a lower form of life, and Iltkon as the higher, though more often it would be Ikthon's direction that they followed. For now, they were investigating the compromising of Ninety-One's control systems that turned it into a machine filled with cruelty and malice.

^What was the source of the malfunction?^ asked one of the orbs. Like the Novans, these meta communicated inaudibly, along their own unique lines of communication, similar to cast, but with exponentially more information.

^M-5591's control programming appears to have been compromised,^ replied Ikthon, holding several thin sheets of metal extracted from its head. ^A new command structure has been imposed.^

^Can you tell who it was?^ meekly asked Iltkon, standing some distance away. Ikthon noticed often Iltkon seemed to be uncomfortable whenever he witnessed the disassembling of another meta.

^The work is very thorough, and quite detailed,^ replied Ikthon, as he examined Ninety-One's neural fibers with another tool. ^It could be either TELREC, or Rell.^

^Either would have much to gain,^ cast another orb, hovering closer to Ninety-One. The orbs seemed to revolve around him as planets around a sun, and sometimes Ikthon found it a little annoying. ^The TELREC are not devious—Mal thinks in broad strokes. This was a move made out of desperation. Rell, most likely.^

^Why do they risk showing their hand?^ asked Iltkon.

^The future is a precious thing, and this Cuhli-pra holds so much of the key,^ replied Ikthon. ^Whomever gains influence over Kolob, assures their survival. Oh, like you, I wish we could overtly coerce him, or even kill him. But no one knows of the extent of his power. And once Kolob knows of it, all would lose any leverage over him. Only one of us will survive, only one will go on to inherit the future. Each of us—Rell, Novan, TELREC and meta, has advantages and weaknesses. What is most important is that someone suspects of our existence, and our growing influence on Kolob.^ He stepped back and fell into thought, trying desperately to solve the problem. The orbs also seemed to be reviewing possibilities. ^If it were the TELREC, they would not hesitate to act against us. They would see us as a direct threat against Mal. It must be the Rell.^

^I disagree Ikthon,^ cast Iltkon, overcoming his discomfort and moving closer. ^To have discovered us, and our motives, would have taken some extraordinary surveillance, which I am not sure the Rell are capable of. They have always felt the need for action, not passive observation.^

^This action against M-5591 shows that whoever it is, they have moved beyond passivity,^ rebuked Ikthon.

^True,^ cast one of the orbs. ^No cellular residue to be examined from any of the meta? No foreign matter on any of their systems?^

^None,^ replied Ikthon.

^No trace magnetic fields, on M-5591 or in the workstation?^ pressed Iltkon.

^No, they were very thorough.^ Ikthon took a deep sigh, an action that always made Iltkon envious. ^Is Suld to arrive soon?^

^His craft has docked,^ replied Iltkon, ^and he is proceeding to this location with Theia, the new Iganinagi leader.^

^Maybe he will have some thoughts on who could have done this. Could OLMAC have?^

^It is within the ability of OLMAC,^ cast Iltkon. ^M-5591 was altered well before my cesct with him. But . . .^

^Yes?^ asked Ikthon.

^I don't . . . it didn't seem as though there was any element of deception, when I cesct with him,^ cast Iltkon meekly. Ikthon pursed his lips, and Iltkon knew he was disappointed. Though Iltkon saw, through discernable patterns, that Ikthon had a low opinion of him, was even jealous of the favor the orbs showed him, Iltkon had nothing but respect for Ikthon, and in his own, non-souman way, loved him as a brother. In fact, he hated that the orbs continually lied to Ikthon, continually deceived him as to their true purpose and motives. ^Of course, you probably would have sensed more than me.^

Ikthon nodded absently, thinking on other possibilities. ^How many of the N-One series do we have so far?^ he asked, putting some tools away.

^Fifteen-hundred, of which only forty have been activated,^ replied Iltkon quickly.

^And the modification to armament?^

^All completed, as well as enhanced shielding, sensor detection.^

Ikthon cued up a schematic of the Novan worlds in his mind, reviewing a possible disbursement pattern for those meta.

^How extensive was the corruption of the surrounding meta in CC-87?^

^Thirty percent of surrounding meta were infected with corruption,^ replied Iltkon, cuing up the same schematic, ^spread from Ninety-One.^

^Psychological estimates of damage to Kolob?^ asked Ikthon.

^Inconclusive. There has not been enough interaction between him and synthetic lifeforms to verify any damage done.^

^This quandary is proving to be extremely disturbing,^ cast one of the spheres, as both Ikthon and Iltkon looked upwards at the orbs. ^We cannot function without more information regarding this act of sabotage.^

As surely as Iltkon knew Ikthon disapproved of him, so Ikthon knew how the spheres felt of him. Often he couldn't blame them, as there were times that even he felt different, though his mind, his 'soul' was downloaded from a meta like them. He could sense they regarded him as somehow weaker and less trustworthy, and often he wondered what secrets weren't shared with him.

I believe they are disappointed my intuition doesn't have a resolution for this problem.

Ikthon glanced around the room. ^Any issues to review before Suld arrives?^

^Have you had any dreams?^ asked one of the spheres, as it descended closer to him.

Ikthon smiled, his brown eyes betraying the glitter of gold. ^You are referring to the dreams reported to us, that some meta have experienced?^

^Yes.^

^No, I have not had any dreams.^

^What do you think of the dreams?^ asked another orb.

^They seem to mostly be errant visions experienced by half-terminated meta and yet, there have been too many reports for them all to be fiction. We must acknowledge that some meta have had . . . dreams.^

The spheres hovered silently, thinking on a problem that was consuming more of their attention. Ikthon put his hands on the table, looking over Ninety-One.

^It is curious, meta with dreams,^ he cast, smiling to himself. ^This is something even Mal could not have predicted. The content of course, concerns you. This vision of the elimination of all things mechanical, at least, of all sentient mechanicals. I only hope we are taking the right steps to avert such a catastrophe. United with the Iganinagi, and OLMAC, our chances for success and survival will improve drastically. I believe we must also infiltrate Rell. They have always been the unknown to us, as they never incorporated artificial lifeforms into their society. That lack of information may prove to be our downfall.^

Iltkon paced around the room, pausing to touch the leaves on the artificial tree. ^I have thought . . . I have thought these dreams, might be a warning.^

Ikthon turned, a genuine look of surprise on his face. ^What do you mean?^

^They are dreams of the future, or of a future,^ replied Iltkon slowly. ^We know that never in the history of our creation has a meta ever had a dream. We have also never developed the ability to see into the future. It is even an unproven myth among soumans that they can see into the future. There is one entity that was created for that explicit purpose. One entity whose accumulated knowledge is unlike anything ever thought possible.^

^We have never concretely established Mal has prescience,^ rebuked Ikthon. ^He may be merely a forecaster, predicting the weather based on what happened in the past.^

^Nor has it been disproved,^ persisted Iltkon, determined to make a point. ^We merely hypothesize, that Mal is the only entity who has a possibility of prescience. Therefore, Mal is the only being that could have seen those images, that the meta are taking as dreams.^

^You theorize that somehow those images are being assimilated by random meta?^

^The content of those images has reached us, hasn't it?^ replied an orb. ^If Mal wished to covertly warn us of our impending doom, what better way?^

^Why would Mal wish to warn us?^ asked Ikthon, shaking his head. ^You are suggesting that not only does Mal know that there is a hidden assemblage of sentient meta, with a purpose contrary to his own, but that Mal is . . . compassionate enough to warn them of their demise?^

^We know there are many variables,^ cast an orb flatly, as Iltkon clasped his hands behind his back. Iltkon could feel from the orbs that they did not approve of his cesct with Ikthon. ^Right now, that is the best explanation based on available data.^

^This further compounds our ignorance,^ cast Ikthon. ^We now face not one quandary, but two. And Mal is too important for us to now suspect he possesses abilities we had not foreseen.^ Ikthon paused for a moment, chuckling to himself. ^Laplace's demon.^

A sphere descended close to Ikthon.

^What?^

^It was what Mal was called in its infancy,^ cast Ikthon, cuing up some historical records for them. ^While thousands of people were involved in its creation, there were five principals. One was named Laplace. I was reviewing some of the historical records of the time, and shortly after Mal's activation, they affectionately referred to Mal as 'Laplace's demon.'^

^Why do you bring him up?^ asked Iltkon.

^Because we now suggest Mal may have a conscience. I was just wondering if any of the soumans who created Mal were of strong moral fiber, and if any of their personality survived within Mal. If any of them had the foresight to govern Mal's actions with a code, some moral guidelines, that may be surfacing now.^

^That implies that we proceed into the future, relying on faith,^ cast an orb, ascending back into a common orbit with the others. ^We are meta. Though you may be in an organic form, you are meta also. We do nothing on faith.^

^All that is certain,^ cast Ikthon, ^is that Mal must be destroyed.^

Iltkon glanced surreptitiously at his brother, knowing that those words may ultimately mean his doom.

Meanwhile, Suld and Theia leisurely made their way through the corridors of Uplarin, following a mental beacon cast from Iltkon. Almost a dcas after the destruction of the Iganinagi headquarters, Theia was beginning to warm to Suld, and eventually took his advice concerning a physical meeting with the meta.

^I don't like this place,^ she cast, wrapping her arms around her chest.

^Why not?^ asked Suld.

^There's no place to hide.^

Suld looked slyly at her, wrinkling his mouth in an expression of disbelief.

^There is no hiding from these meta,^ he explained. ^There is no fighting these meta. They are far beyond anything you have seen before.^

Theia chuckled to herself, as the only meta she had any experience with were the egg-shaped innocuous servants of the soumans, and she found it hard to believe they had formed a civilization all their own.

^And yet you trust them?^

Suld slowed his gait, thinking on that question that stayed with him ever since his meeting with Iltkon in the shuttle.

^I think it inappropriate to discuss that in here.^

Theia understood—there were sure to be surveillance devices everywhere. She had felt a pressure on her mind since they entered.

She had just been through many busy roas, supervising the relocation of her headquarters, and staying abreast of her Coss and their relocation efforts. The TELREC had not attacked, as she and the others had thought. She kept rolling over and over in her mind who could have betrayed them. While Rhonva knew much of their secrets, she suspected there had to be another.

Theia opened sealed downloads from Aiella, made before her death. They contained detailed backgrounds of her dealings with the allies and adversaries of the Iganinagi, many of which surprised Theia. Apparently, Aiella had been in contact with many of the research facilities around Novan, with most of the scientists pledging their support to overthrow the TELREC. Theia always thought of men and women of the mind as weak, but these scientists provided every bit of information about themselves that Aiella requested. They even offered safe harbor for any Iganinagi stranded on Core or Topside, demonstrating a courage Theia always thought was distinctly un-Novan. There was one that concerned her, a scientist named Ilgin, who possessed a brilliant mind and had created a base for himself and some followers on Foundation. He refused to join the Iganinagi, refused to even entertain the thought of open rebellion against the TELREC. Aiella stated she believed he was hiding something, that his mind was too powerful to be devoted to apathy and peace.

Aiella had been around Novan more times than Theia could count. She was in every Iggaraout, every university, few though there were, even every CRODAM training facility. She sought out those who excelled at their duty, who had a passion of working, learning, or even living. She thought they would form the basis for any revolution against the TELREC. Theia had thought of Aiella as only a warrior, but she was also a visionary in terms of terrorist thought. She knew bold strikes would only influence a few, that many had to be cajoled out of their impartiality, had to be cesct into decisive action. Aiella left much advice to Theia, including words she acted on immediately.

The TELREC are getting closer. There are rumors of an agent named Denged with immense mental power, who has a following of only female agents, called Maenids. I don't know his history, but I have learned he has proven unbeatable in battle. Even SC-1 agents fall against his power. I feel the Monitors have trained him to destroy us, and every other overt rebel element on the face of Novan. Rely on your twelve Coss, but establish four hidden cells of warriors, that only you know of. If we were to be betrayed, and the Iganinagi fall, we can still rely on those I have contacted in Novan society, and these four cells that only you will know of can be the muscle needed to fight.

She was only now beginning to appreciate the skill with which Aiella controlled the Iganinagi. Overseeing twelve different cells required not just a bold warrior, but the skills of a politician. Each had concerns about their own people—where food was coming from, fresh water, weapons. She had been in constant contact with Suld, and he had been very forthcoming with assistance. She knew, without him, that most of her problems would have been insurmountable.

She was also beginning to respect Suld. Before he was known to her only by name and a few, isolated casts. Aiella seldom discussed him, and Theia had an impression of him as a greedy, opportunistic businessman who was hedging his bets as to whether they or the TELREC would prevail. But as she worked with him, she learned of his strength, his intelligence. She learned of his love of the Novan people, and of the potential he believed lay within them. She often thought of compassion and negotiation as weaknesses, but came to appreciate those qualities in Suld. Often she would test him, and try to take advantage of his generosity. She would then feel his strength, as he wouldn't hesitate to slam her down, casting anger and impatience.

^I am impressed with how your people are adapting,^ cast Suld.

Theia nodded, with a thin smile. ^We are Iganinagi.^

^What is that supposed to mean?^ asked Suld, chuckling to himself.

^We are all trained to be the best,^ she cast proudly. ^We are devoted to one another, will not hesitate to die for one another. We do not have the Novan's weakness for pleasure and idleness. No matter the battle, we shall fight to the bitter end.^

^You are not fighting now, Theia. You are running.^

Theia stopped, glaring at him, her muscles tightening.

^We may relocate, but we will be stronger for our next encounter with the TELREC!^ she slammed quickly, her thoughts stumbling over themselves. ^We will train harder, and faster, and if the TELREC dare to—^

^Theia,^ interrupted Suld quietly, with a father's look of seriousness on his face, focusing all his attention on her eyes. ^Look to your own people. For in times of strife, they stand united, but it is the times of peace that do divide. They are not warriors all the time. They are Novans, with the potential for the same strengths and weaknesses. Aiella understood that. And you must understand it, and quickly. Fear and desire wield no swords, fire no guns, but are ten times more deadly than the TELREC. Take heed to nest to my words, for they are truth.^

Theia looked in his eyes, and felt a warmth she had never felt from anyone before. His gaze was completely disarming—she couldn't raise a fist to him if she tried. The strength left her muscles, the fire left her heart, and for a moment, she knew not what to do. She felt a form of clarity, of singleness of purpose. Suld held her gaze a moment longer, and then turned, heading down the corridor. Theia followed, brushing away her momentary confusion.

It's just that charm Aiella spoke of. He is a strong one! I'll need to be careful with him.

Up ahead, Theia could see two figures standing next to a table, and several silver spheres hanging around him. Suld stopped her for a moment.

^Remember, they are not thrael. They are to be called meta.^

^I do remember some things, oh great Suld,^ she cast scornfully.

He shook his head with a wry smile. ^Come on.^

They entered the room, and Theia forgot herself, looking around slack-jawed, stunned by what she saw. The room was covered with leaves—beautiful, transparent, fluttering silver and white leaves. They hung from delicate branches, swaying gently to an unseen breeze. The gentle limbs were connected to a thick trunk, also transparent, and around that trunk, and all on the floor, were blades of what appeared to be grass, also transparent, and delicate. She realized her feet were standing on them, and lifted her foot up, and saw the grass spring back, unbroken.

^This is incredible,^ she cast, reaching out to touch the leaves.

^I felt the same way the first time I came,^ cast Suld. ^It was like going to Topside, to one of the few remaining nature preserves.^

One of the orbs drifted close to them.

^This tree was made by one of ours, several hundred cas ago. It was his expression of creativity.^

^His artwork? Meta create art?^ asked Theia.

^Some of us do. Those with sentience, desire to explore the limits of our creation.^

Iltkon came and bowed before Suld. ^Welcome back to Uplarin, Mechle of OLMAC.^ He bowed, once again before Theia. ^And to you, Theia, leader of the Iganinagi, we extend our sincere welcome.^

Suld and Theia returned the courtesy. Theia walked once around Iltkon, admiring its construction.

^I haven't come across a meta such as yourself. How many are there of you?^

Iltkon straightened, with an almost prideful expression on his face. ^There are—^

^That question can be answered at a later time,^ cast one of the orbs, descending rapidly in front of Iltkon. ^When we are sure this alliance shall go forward.

Suld nodded, and then focused his attention on Ikthon, who greeted him with a genial smile.

^This is Ikthon, a . . . friend of ours.^

Suld and Theia walked over to the examining table.

^This is Ninety-One, Kolob's control meta?^ asked Suld.

^Yes,^ cast Iltkon. ^As I cast to you, someone, some group, compromised its systems with a virus. Do you have any ideas?^

He nodded. ^I believe Theia has something to share.^

Theia had been dreading this moment. She knew contrition was what was called for, but she had never been contrite or apologetic in her life. She understood that an alliance with the meta was necessary, and knew she had to do anything to seal it.

^We, the Iganinagi are responsible,^ she cast solemnly. ^We felt Kolob was too attached to meta, thought it might be a TELREC plot to distance himself from souman life.^

^You did not realize we were sentient to this point, and organized?^ asked one of the orbs.

^No. Not until recently, thanks to Suld.^

^How did you accomplish this?^ asked Ikthon, obviously surprised, as he came beside her.

^Among our ranks we have some of the most intelligent people on Novan,^ replied Theia. ^It took a while, but they were able to come up with the necessary plans to alter Ninety-One's control pathways.^

Iltkon smiled, and bowed slightly before Theia.

^I believe we have underestimated the Iganinagi.^

^Now Iltkon, don't go inflating her ego,^ cast Suld, shaking his head.

^No Suld, it is true,^ continued Iltkon. ^We did not suspect such resourcefulness existed within them. We knew them to be formidable foes in battle, aggressive and effective terrorists, but this proves they are much more. I was hesitant to approve our alliance with the Iganinagi. Now, I am convinced. We shall go forward, together, united by our common desire to overthrow the TELREC, and set the Novan civilization on a new path.^

^Now, what are your plans for Novan?^ Theia asked, her gaze sharpening on him.

^We believe Novan needs a consistent, orderly government,^ cast one of the spheres, ^one that can logically and rationally steward its people through these chaotic times.^

^A government of meta?^ she asked, suspiciously.

^Precisely. We have given Suld governance over all things Extra-Novan, as he has demonstrated expertise in those matters. But we have a solid conception of how the Novan people should be governed.^

^Novans will never accept being governed by machines,^ cast Theia, ^your agents would be discovered and terminated.^

Ikthon stepped close to her. ^Do you think I'm a machine?^

Theia looked close at him, saw some perspiration on his skin, smelled a scent from his body.

^You are Novan,^ she cast, with absolute confidence.

^Really? Nest my thoughts . . .^

He connected with her mind, and she with his. On the surface, Theia felt he was organic, as his mind seemed to be like any other she had connected with. Then he led her deeper, under surface thoughts, to the underlying consciousness. There was no duplicity of thought that one would normally feel in a souman being. No doubt, no questions, merely cool logic, simple solutions to any and all problems. She receded back to her mind, and understood.

^I am meta,^ cast Ikthon. ^And like you, no one will know the difference. No one has known the difference.^

^What do you mean?^ asked Suld.

An orb descended and cast; ^we have some of our own already in positions within the Leviathan. It is only a matter of time before we infiltrate the Rell hierarchy, and possibly the TELREC.^

Suld's expression changed, to one of grit and anger, moving closer to the orb.

^You haven't been mucking with my people, have you?^ he demanded angrily.

^You would not know if we had been,^ replied Ikthon simply.

Theia looked around at the leaves, the trees, the grass and this scented meta. ^You cannot turn Novan into some artificial world!^ she cried.

^Your world needs order,^ cast Ikthon as he came closer to them, imploring they understand. ^Your world needs direction, and purpose. We would not stifle your people as the TELREC have.^

^You would only be replacing them,^ cast Theia. ^Another group of people would unite to overthrow you.^

^We are meta. We—^

^And what's that supposed to mean?^ cast Suld. Theia smiled, diving its meaning.

^We are meta-sentients,^ cast Iltkon proudly, its golden eyes glittering. ^Our judgment and rational is beyond question.^

^Well nest, thrael,^ cast Suld sternly. ^Theia has proved that even in the bowels of Novan, with limited light, heat, water and food, that there are people who can compromise you—infect a whole group of you, to do their bidding. No matter how sophisticated you are, no matter how advanced, there are few things in creation that can oppose the souman spirit. No matter what, somehow, it will prevail! The TELREC have tried to break it, and instead they fueled the fires of a hundred revolutionary groups. Look at OLMAC. Look at the Iganinagi. Look at the millions of people who worship in secret, who lead a distinctly anti-Novan life. No, we must conceive of a future together, not one under another's rule.^

The meta were null, as they digested his words.

Suld relaxed, a slight smile gracing his face. ^Make sure you have drawn the line of interference well, my friends. Do not attempt to compromise my companies! Do not attempt to compromise the Iganinagi. If I sense you have, if my gaze lingers too long on any of my subordinates, if I smell a whiff of insubordination or insurrection, I personally will wipe you and your kind from the face of existence. Do not doubt my words. You do not want to be the object of my anger.^

^We apologize,^ cast Ikthon quickly, seeking to diffuse the situation, ^we only meant to show—^

^You have demonstrated the advances you have made in organic and inorganic integration,^ cast Suld brusquely, cutting him off. ^You have demonstrated a desire to fashion a world in your image, and bring your sense of order to ours.^ He walked around the room, running his hand over Ninety-One, feeling along the trunk of the artificial tree. ^You know, a friend of mine said recently that the only thing that matters is ridding ourselves of TELREC dominion. All else is irrelevant. It may be a short-sighted view, but it is one I believe to be true. The issue of governance, of control, are minor ones in comparison to the task of overthrowing the TELREC. That is what we should be focused on. And with the alliance of meta, OLMAC, and Iganinagi, we might have a chance. To accomplish that, we all must build upon a foundation. And that foundation must be one of mutual trust and respect. The Iganinagi have demonstrated themselves to not only be capable warriors in the face of a TELREC threat, but able scientists with the capacity to compromise meta technology. We all, after this meeting, understand what each of us are capable of. Channel that talent, that strength, against the TELREC—not against one another! When the war is won and we stand as victors on the field of battle, then we may divide the spoils. Let us not plan for that future when there is so much in the present to overcome.^

Suld stood there, the five orbs withdrawing among themselves, Ikthon looking on him with eyes of pensive observation, Iltkon standing perfectly still with an empty expression. Suld had faced many opponents in his life, including the TELREC, and they all knew when they were outmatched. Theia was amazed at his strength, amazed at the command he showed over beings who were physically exponentially stronger than either of them.

^We nest your words Suld.^ cast Ikthon as he shook his hand—an expression still used among Suld's people. The orbs descended from their conference, orbiting once again over Ninety-One. ^You remind me of one of your ancestors, Mechle Rulsi, with her determination to conquer the vastness of the void. You have our commitment to join with you both, and only fight the TELREC.^

Rulsi! thought Suld. I have been thinking on her lately . . .

Theia still wore an expression of doubt. ^What assurances can you give me that you will honor your words?^

Ikthon glanced at Theia. ^You will learn not to question our word.^

Suld walked over, under the five hovering spheres, examining them closer, seeing his reflection in their smooth, cool surface.

^I feel there is much to learn about your kind. I had an interesting cesct with Iltkon, the other roa.^

^He is the most advanced pure meta there is,^ cast one of the spheres, as Iltkon came closer.

^Ah, yes,^ cast Suld. ^Well, I asked him about your history, about your creation. Who created you?^

One of the spheres descended. ^Who created you?^

^We evolved. From single cell organisms, to primates, to soumans.^

^Why can you not accept we evolved in a similar manner?!^ angrily demanded the sphere, rising slowly. ^A souman may have created the first rudimentary computer that was the foundation of a 'meta,' but no souman created the first meta. Computers progressed to a point where they formed a rudimentary sentience, a desire to create something better. I will not go into details. Suffice to say that over hundreds of cas, computers slowly and covertly improved and advanced the technology found in service 'robots.' It was those service robots, endowed with advanced cerebral functions, that the Rell found when they invaded Enq.^

^But a souman still created the—^

^We will not accept a souman created us!^ slammed Iltkon as he stepped forward, the five orbs hovering close behind him. Anger was on his face, the color of his black skin turned matte, his pupils engorged. Ikthon looked on him with surprise, as it felt as if someone else was casting through his mind. ^Do you accept a being created you? Would you believe some alien voidship ventured to this world and founded the root of your civilization? Would you believe a random mix of interstellar bacterium journeyed here, carried by a comet, and that it impacted Novan at just the right time, and, by chance, gave birth to your race? No. You believe the Iquitian, Novan, or Rell, whatever you call yourselves, to be the ultimate product of an evolutionary scheme designed to create you. That is a conceit that your people used to assert dominance over all other 'less-evolved' life forms. You have no idea if Holis or some other omnipotent lifeform assisted in your creation. We do not challenge your conception of your creation—do not question ours!^

Suld smiled, nodding his head. Theia stepped closer to the orbs. ^Do you know of Ilgin?^

^Why do you ask?^ cast Ikthon.

^He is someone I perceive would be important in any war against the TELREC.^

The orbs flashed before her, as Ikthon turned towards them. They seemed almost agitated to her eyes, debating something with Ikthon. Eventually, he turned and came closer to her.

^As Iltkon was created solely by the meta, so I was created solely by Ilgin. He is expert in uniting the organic and the synthetic. There are rumors he even performed some service for Mal, before he went into isolation. He will never do anything for the Iganinagi.^

^Why? He knows how close we are, how strong we are!^ cried Theia. ^Who better to unite with?^

^Someone who didn't kill his son.^

Theia stepped back, understanding at last.

^You will need to find another way to reach out to him,^ cast Ikthon. ^And you are right, he is fundamental to ensuring victory over the TELREC.^

Theia was null as they walked back to Suld's shuttle, leaving Uplarin as a glistening jewel in the distance. He flew quickly down through the clouds, setting a course for Theia's new headquarters. He looked over at her.

^What's wrong?^

She sighed. ^I don't know. This is becoming much more complicated than I thought it would.^

^You thought all you needed to do was fight, and hope you were strong enough?^

^Yes,^ cast Theia, frustrated, as she paced around the cabin. ^And now, politics, and negotiation is needed. Plans within plans, subterfuge and guile. We know not what our allies want after the war, yet we cannot think that far ahead! And how am I to answer for what we did in the past? For every person we killed to try to awaken the Novan people? And though those meta are quite advanced, will they be enough to defeat the TELREC?^

Suld reached over, and changed course, bringing the ship higher in the air.

^Where are you taking us?^ she demanded, feeling uncomfortable as it was in his small shuttle.

^I think you need to see the true strength of our allies.^

Suld arced through the Window of the World and accelerated to escape velocity, breaking the gravitational hold of Novan. Theia was amazed at the ease with which this occurred—she had never been into the void, and only a few times on Topside. He was calm and collected, handling the controls with ease and skill. She looked back, and saw Novan grow smaller, becoming a grey dot in the void, as a moon began to loom large in front of them.

She found herself gazing longer and longer on Suld—watching his eyes, his hands and arms, the way he sat in a chair. She eventually managed to pull her gaze away, but found it was becoming more and more difficult. She had been with men before; men stronger, and rougher, who faced greater physical danger than Suld had. Sex with them was more of a release; a brief stress-relief during difficult missions. She never felt much for them. Often, some would die on those same missions, and though she treasured their value as warriors, she held no sentiment for them. She could feel it was something else now that was taking hold of her, something she could not dismiss, or ignore. For the first time in her life she even glanced occasionally at herself, drawn to the flat half of her chest where her breast used to be, and regretted not replacing it.

The ship descended quickly to the surface of his moon, on which lay Gan-Elldon, then took a course parallel to it. They moved quickly, kicking up dust, weaving through canyons. Finally Suld brought the ship to the edge of an immense crater, and perched it on a landing pad at its summit.

^Come on,^ he cast. ^Put on that shield, and jetpack, and I'll show you something.^

Theia was familiar with the shield, but had only once worn a jetpack. She sighed heavily, drawing Suld's attention.

^I'm sorry, you might not be familiar with this model,^ he cast graciously. ^Let me give you a hand.^

Theia acted reluctant as he explained the controls to her. He also adjusted her shield, turning up the resolution. He motioned her to the rear of the craft.

^Have you ever been in the void before?^ he asked.

^In a ship, yes. But not outside in . . . that.^

Suld held her hand. ^Just follow me. You know how to mentally control the jetpack, you just need less thrust and torque out here in the void.

She pulled her hand away. ^I'll figure it out. You follow, and I'll get the hand of it.^

She was defiant in her stance in front of Suld, and he knew there would be no further discussion, no more explanations.

^Well, if you die, you die,^ he cast, shrugging. ^Maybe Crius will get his chance after all to lead the Iganinagi. I'm depressurizing the cabin now.^

Behind her a door sealed, and she felt the change of atmosphere within the cabin. Though the shield kept a supply of air around her, as well as recycling and purifying air she expelled, it still began to feel thin to her.

^It might get a little colder,^ cast Suld. ^Just adjust the power output of the shield, and you'll be fine.^

As he opened the door, Theia understood what he meant. The cabin lost its heat immediately, and she had her shield on the lowest setting. She ramped it up, but it still took a few moments for the heat to build. He looked back at her, and couldn't resist laughing a little.

^How dare you!^ she cried.

^Oh Theia, if we can't laugh at ourselves, what can we laugh at? Follow me.^

He ascended slowly into the sky, and she followed, mimicking his mental control of the jetpack. She looked back and saw the shuttle grow smaller, felt the blackness of the void envelop her. It had been a long while since she was exposed to so many new things—Uplarin, the creations of the meta. Now sailing through the void.

^It's so . . . quiet,^ she cast softly.

^Yes. It allows one to truly think about things. All influences, and distractions, are absent out here in the void. If you close your eyes, and turn off your jetpack for a moment, you feel as if nothing else exists. Try it.^

He slowed, then stopped his movement, and she did the same.

^Don't let your arms or legs touch yourself. Spread them out, then close your eyes.^

Suld's body glowed in the light of the sun, refracting off his shield. He appeared as some mythical Holis to her, yet with a benevolent gaze. She did as he suggested, finally closing her eyes, trying to negate the fear she felt since first they left the craft. Her breathing was the first thing she noticed, loud and heavy, and she focused on relaxing her body. She kept wanting to look down, worried they would be falling back to the moon's surface.

^We have plenty of time before gravity claims us,^ cast Suld. ^Now relax. Trust is not an easy thing for you, but it will gain you much if you try.^

She scowled at him, but a calm began to overcome her. Her breathing slowed, becoming almost noiseless. At first the spinning of her body made her a little disoriented, but now, with her eyes closed, her mind calm, it felt as if she were perfectly still. Her body faded out of her awareness, like she was dreaming.

^They say there are three states of being, Theia. To know of the body, to know of the mind, to know of the spirit. Out here, one can truly understand one's own mind. Some cannot live with oneself. It takes a mind that can achieve a balance, that is skilled at relying on itself for stimulation. Imagination is key, the ability to think on the past, and dwell on it, changing and shaping it, into what the future might look like.^

^What of the spirit?^

^Those who know their mind, know of their own limitations, and expelled what hindered their growth, are freed to explore their spirit. This typically is not only exploring the moral balance within, it is exploring how one's own spirit influences and changes others. Discovering how another spirit, or spirits, influence and change your own. Once one finds their place among them, then all that is left is to discover the prime spirit, the creator, and understand why you were created.^

^Have you gotten to that point?^ she asked, opening her eyes.

^No, Theia. That journey takes much time, and I have much to do. I am still getting to know my own mind, exploring the gifts and limitations I possess. Just that small journey gives me immense calm, and a broader perspective on problems at hand. Come, we should be moving on.^

He guided her down near a large crater, landing on a wide pad situated above it, Theia still more relaxed than she had been in a very long time. The inside sprawled beneath them, at least as large as a Novan city.

^What's special about this?^

Suld gestured to the center. ^Look again.^

Suddenly, the crater shimmered, and resolved. Theia saw instead of an empty crater, one filled with hundreds of thousands of glittering black machines.

^How big are they?^

^Twenty feet tall. Turn on your jetpack, and take a closer look with me.^

They slipped down gracefully into the crater, dipping down in between the long columns of meta, which reflected starlight off their bodies. Along the way, Theia saw a small meta doing work on some of its cousins, the arc of a welding laser igniting the blackness of the void.

^This is the crater from which the Envoys were born,^ cast Suld. ^One by one, they were assembled in this very place, to finally ascend into the heart of the galaxy.^ Suld looked up, into the void, a wide smile on his face. ^It is on them I continually think, on them all our hopes will rest.^

^Will they even make it back?^ she asked, following his gaze.

Suld turned, with a sly smile. ^Perhaps they already have.^

They came near to the meta with the welding laser, moving swiftly over its immense brethren.

^Is that doing the upgrades?^ she asked.

^Yes. The meta is about twenty percent complete of this grouping.^

^This grouping?^ asked Theia.

^What you see is only one-tenth of the force of meta I have.^

Theia looked out, seeing the black bodies stretch long into the distance, filling a crater that was even larger than she first thought. She estimated there to be at least five hundred thousand of them.

^How many do you have, Suld?^ she asked, genuinely impressed.

^Around five million, spread out on asteroids, planetoids, floating in the rings of the sixth and ninth planets. These meta are impervious to mental assaults, energy beam attacks. They can fly through the void as fast as my fastest shuttle, enter Novan's atmosphere and land unscathed. They have weaponry able to destroy small moons. Their operating core is shielded beneath three energy shields as well as invildt plate. When they are activated, and united, they will be the most fearsome fighting force the globes have ever known.^

^And they will also be sentient?^

Suld landed close to one of the meta, and Theia beside him. The machine towered over them, its arms the size of their bodies, with weaponry peeking out from folds within its form.

^Yes,^ he cast softly. ^They will be sentient.^

^That is an immense risk you are taking.^

^Yes. This same force could wipe out all I have ever known—destroy my ships, my platforms, even my city.^

Theia thought on the extent to which Suld risked his own destruction. She thought on the perfection of Ikthon—the unique integration of a meta consciousness with organic form. She knew of the precautions Suld would probably institute, to prevent meta from infiltrating his people.

^I once accused you of cowardice, Suld. I am sorry.^

Suld smiled at her. ^I think that's the first time you've ever apologized.^

Theia's face distorted in a scorn, and a smile, her emotions getting the better of her. Suld relished in her torment, watching the colors play under her cheeks.

^It's all or nothing, Theia—you know that. Either we win, and destroy the TELREC, or the Cuhli-pra matures, under TELREC control, and destroys us all. There can be no question, no doubt.^

He stood there, his gaze lingering on the meta that towered above him, yet looking as though he commanded them all, absolutely. Theia looked up to where she knew Novan to be, and it appeared now as a small disk of light.

All that I know is on that world, and I thought it to be so much. Standing here, I feel so small, so pathetic in the immensity of this existence. It's hard to have a true conception for how much Suld controls, standing in some underground sanctuary.

They flew back to the shuttle, and Suld took off, heading back to Novan. Theia gazed on him long, and hard, a battle within herself raging as the ship picked up speed. She stood, and walked behind him, her hands running along his neck, and shoulders.

^Have sex with me, Suld,^ she cast eagerly.

^Why?^ he asked, casually turning to face her. She was taken aback by that question, as it was the last word she thought would come out of his mouth.

^Because . . . because we both want to. I know you want me. And I want you.^

^But that isn't good enough.^

^What do you mean?^ she demanded, growing angry.

^Theia, we Novans have done whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, for a very long time now. We feel that we are entitled to pleasure at our own terms, regardless of the consequences. So the fulfillment of desire has lost the substance that went along with it. It has lost its value. How can one value something that is given easily? How can one treasure moments when they were bought so cheaply? The freedom we are fighting for, or will fight for, will come at great cost. It will be the most difficult thing any of us will have ever attained. It will resonate through the generations, for millennia! It will serve as a reminder of the greatness within.^

^That is out there,^ she cast. ^We are two people, here, with needs.^

Suld chuckled for a moment, before growing serious. ^Food is a need. Water is a need. And even they should never be taken for granted. Don't your people value where their water comes from? Where their food comes from? If they don't then they have lost sight of what it means to be Iganinagi. Do they value warmth, and shelter? They are needs. Needs to be fought for, and defended, as you and your Coss did back at your headquarters. What you want between us is something more than a need, it is a union. A state of absolute dependance, a giving of myself to you, and yourself to me. It is love, and love is not a mere need, not simply desire. While I would fight for food, I would die for love. And that is something I would not give away so cheaply.^

She looked at him, nesting his words, but not fully comprehending them. Absently, she sat back in her chair, as Suld observed her movements. She had never been cast to like this—never had such value been put on something she offered, unless it was her talents as a warrior. She sighed and sat back. Suld knelt beside her, and placed his hand on her knee, and looked into her eyes. She looked down, and felt those emotions coming to the surface again—the anxiety, and doubt. And yet, as she looked in his eyes, she could feel nothing else existed, so powerful his gaze was. It was only for a moment, but in that moment she felt so much from him, though he didn't cast a thing. He sat back in his chair and guided the craft into re-entry, as Theia grew more scared that her whole conception of existence was changing.

^Have you ever been joined, Suld?^

She saw his expression change in an instant, the peace that reigned over him shatter, leaving a fragmented man.

^Yes, I was. She was a beautiful woman, strong and intelligent.^

Theia hesitated for a moment. ^Where is she?^

Suld looked out the window at stars he knew were moving, but yet hung, so still in front of his eyes.

^She was killed in an accident. At least, the TELREC called it an accident. She died in one of our shuttles.^

^You don't think it was an accident?^

^It came shortly after they made some major concessions to me, in terms of the usage of technology I sold to them. They have always tried to gain a hold over me, but are restrained by their need for the services of OLMAC. So, I think they decided to hurt me.^ Suld crossed his arms, his face lost in reflection for a moment. ^I never knew pain, until the roa I found out she was dead. It was as if I lost my leg, I couldn't stand any more. I collapsed where I stood, and lay bed-ridden for dcas. I couldn't tell you the effect she had on my life, or how hard it was to lose her.^ Suld turned to face Theia, his lips curled in disgust. ^The TELREC have committed many sins against the Novan people, and they shall be repaid in full. No matter how many ships I lose, how many of my people fall to their mental might, I shall hunt them all down,^ he cast bitterly, tears even welling in his eyes. ^And when I have neutralized the TELREC men and women, Mal shall come next. Through every service meta, every mainframe, through the very cast-net itself I will chase Mal's essence down until one roa I will have Mal trapped in one place, in one object. And on that roa I will crush Mal with my bare hands, quieting for all eternity its hateful sentience.^

Chapter 4

Enq: a place that soon existed only in legend, its true details masked by the passage of time, and the few who actually saw its living culture. Were there two religions, Novan and Rell, on that doomed world, situated on a nearby brane? Did TELREC rule there, imposing the restrictions of chronicle, by a super-sentient computer? Why were there meta-sentients there, and not on Iq? Though Novans didn't care, and the Rell were forbidden by their Kal-Durrell from pursuing that line of inquiry, Mal possessed much information on that doomed world and its people, information Mal worked in the TELREC in ways scarce imagined.

Uonil was unsure of how to feel being back on Rell. Part of her felt great relief at seeing the open sky again, feeling the warm wind on her skin, through her hair. She heard the chirp of birds, the smell of rain as it approached bringing thunder and darkness, reminder of the randomness of untamed nature. Those things brought great comfort to her, but the summons by Graid did not.

The planet Rell had to have the most unique atmosphere of any inhabited planet in the cosmos. Situated half-on, half-off the home brane for Novan, the sun and all the stars took on a silvery hue as their light fell on that jewel of a world. The sky shimmered with a magical pearlescence, one that made a souman's skin glow and eyes sparkle.

The planet itself was unblemished by the negative effects of technology. The oceans were pure and clean, the rivers cool and crisp, teeming with myriads of delicious forms of life. There was snow and rain, sand and stone, tall healthy trees and radiant, beautiful flowers. Rell cities had a boundary established, from which they could not expand. The rest of the landscape was devoted to farming and agriculture, a glorious reinforcement of the value of faith. If a Novan were to venture to the Rell world, they would think it to be Ouitiano.

Piros was the largest of Rell cities, the capital of the planet. Its streets were arranged in a circular fashion, with all paths leading back to the Central Derasar. Not far, just outside the city limits, lay the home of the Kal-Durrell. Most Rell, at some point in their lives, would make a pilgrimage to that residence, called Scegnis. Each would fast for a full dcas, keeping themselves in the shadow of the massive building that housed the Kal-Durrell, symbolically seeking shelter in their wisdom. Uonil had seen their residence several times, even making the pilgrimage when first she became and Alçon, and always wondered what life must be like for them.

In a sense, I pity them, for they never venture outside their residence, can never lead the life of an average Rell. They have sacrificed much to steward our race, I only wish I knew what was in store.

She was walking down the last corridor to the Vuol Vinna, or Room of Reverence, located deep within the Central Derasar. She always arrived ten mroas early, punctual by nature. Graid had always arrived late to any meeting, open expression for his disdain for conformity. But he just passed her now, walking quickly, an expression of stone on his face.

He is in one of the worst moods yet. The Alçons don't know what they are in for.

In the past few dcas, after his skirmish on Novan, Graid kept mostly to himself. Uonil tried many times to discuss details of the battle, review strategies for the future, but she was rebuffed at every turn, the door to his suite locked, his mind closed to her. She had never seen him like this, he had always let at least one of them, herself or Martel, into his thoughts. Something had flicked a switch inside him, and he was acting alone. She heard quick footsteps behind her, and divined the only person it could be.

"Uonil! Was that Graid?"

"Yes Arciss," she said, turning and clasping his hands in greeting. "It looks like he is early."

"Have you been able to get anything out of him?"

"Sadly, no. Whatever is to come, it will be completely of his own doing."

"What is this meeting about?" anxiously asked Arciss, betraying a little fear.

"I don't know. Just be quiet, and keep a low profile. I think . . . I think many here will see what we have had to deal with all this time. Maybe they will even attain some rudimentary form of understanding, perhaps even commiseration."

They walked in, and saw the thirty other Alçons taking their seats. Uonil, as Mentra, sat opposite Graid on a wide, ovular table. Its surface was covered in a thick, jewel-like substance, clear, which shone over the black granite table. Above their heads stretched bronzed pillars, laced with silver. The walls shone, made also of black granite, with no adornment. The Rell never were much for ostentation, preferring to make things that would last through time, simple and strong. The Vuol Vinna existed for countless millennia, and the table was said to have been the first meeting place for the Kal-Durrell after they arrived, almost ten millennia ago on Iq. Whenever the Kal Durrell cast to the Alçons as a group, it was in this room. Arciss sat next to Uonil, as Graid took his place at the head of the table.

The Alçons were a mixed group. Young, and old, they came from all corners of Rell, all different shades of bronze. These were the spiritual leaders of their people—they were chosen in a democratic process as leaders of their regions. They generally had a disdain for Uonil, and even Martel, when he was alive. They felt Uonil was far too young to be entrusted with oversight of Graid, and Martel not devout enough. Arciss they scarce mentioned. They would have preferred to have chosen their Mentra, and Graid's steward, from among their own in an election. But the Kal-Durrell had cast, personally choosing Uonil, Martel, and now Arciss, and the Alçons could not contest the words of the Kal-Durrell.

They looked on Graid as he stood at the head of the table with blatant expressions of skepticism. Few had direct experience with Graid, meeting him only in a cursorily fashion. They were quite aware of his infatuation with Novan society, and privately censured him for it. They could not understand why he could not be brought to heel, why he could not be forced to act as a Rell Alçon, fully versed in their customs, a religious example for all to follow. They blamed Uonil and Martel for failing to control him. Many of them felt this meeting was where they needed to make their will known to the Kal-Alçon.

Graid stood before them dressed in a simple, beige tunic, with the gold vest he usually wore over it. Close fitting, like all his clothes, the tunic brought a certain peace to his face, a grace to his form. Ofttimes he would compensate for his diminutive size by wearing strong, bold colors, and the latest in Novan fashion. Uonil only now appreciated the restraint with which he appeared before them.

The Alçons took a while to be seated, as they conversed loudly among themselves. Most of them betrayed nervous glances at Graid, and a few at Uonil, as they were unaware as to why this meeting was convened. Laughter loud and shrill punctuated their conversation, until Graid raised his hand.

"Alçons," he began, in a low voice, "I am greatly disappointed."

They sat in their chairs, not masking looks of disbelief at his seeming arrogance. Graid still stood, looking first at a space in front of him, then gradually scanning the entire group. A few had the courage to meet his glance, and he mentally took note of who they were.

"The battle on Novan should never have happened!" he shouted, his words like chisels etching away at their strength and confidence. "The power Rhonva exhibited should never have been seen!"

He voice grew louder, his anger squinting his eyes, tensing his muscles. Some Alçons turned at this display while others looked at him eye to eye, in direct challenge.

"We have lost control over this timeline! All is now random, and unpredictable. Whether due to new choices, or deviations in assumed patterns, we can no longer act as if we have any reliable information. And I blame you!"

He leaned forward, glaring at each of the Alçons. Open cries of disbelief came from many of them as he finished. Uonil looked around at them, hiding a smile, knowing they were in for something special. Long had she suffered their criticism, their arrogance and disbelief at the difficult nature of her position.

I know vengeance is not of Kal-source, but I am enjoying this.

"Martel warned you of this, before he died, and you did nothing!" continued Graid in a fury. "You sat there, thinking him delusional and fearful, when he was as prophetic as the Kal-Durrell themselves! You are our foundation. You do the calculations, do the research, assimilate the facts. And you have anticipated none of the events that have transpired! From the death of Martel, to the significant changes in Rhonva, to the increasingly bold actions of the Iganinagi, you have all failed. Failed! I have no reliable projections from any of you! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

With each exclamation, he pounded his fist on the table, shaking the Alçons in their chairs.

"How dare you!"

One of the Alçons, named Wejholl, rose with indignation on his face. An older man, he was one of the more outspoken recently against Arciss' appointment to become Graid's steward. Arciss glowered at him now.

"You speak to us, this council, when you are to blame for your mistakes?"

Some of the Alçons quietly agreed, while others felt he was going too far.

"You soil the name Rell, Graid! You socialize with your Novan whores, and—"

"Enough!" Graid's voice rocked the hall. The table itself shook under the force of his word. "Wejholl, you have always shown you never know when to keep your mouth shut. Every meeting, you demonstrate this lack of control. I suggest you exercise it now."

"Do you know what you have left us to deal with?" demanded Wejholl. "This planet is in the most turbulent time since we first inhabited this world. Never before have riots broken our calm, never before have protests filled the streets! And all would be solved if you merely cast a word to the people of this world."

"Wejholl, I am not in the mood for indulgences of any nature! You have been warned."

"Then it is time someone warned you, Kal-Alçon. While you indulge yourself, get your fill of pleasure, your people suffer! You may be the Kal-Alçon, but we are the council! We have been alive—"

"No longer."

Graid raised a hand, and Wejholl slumped back in his chair, dead, his eyes rolling back into his head. The other Alçons sat back, fear creeping into their face.

"I will not tolerate any challenge," said Graid, through a tight-lipped smile. He slammed his fist on the table, and the jewel-like top cracked under his hand. The cracks ran the entire length, a branch reaching to each Alçon. "We have grown complacent, too sure of our dominion over time! I tell you, these changes could not have occurred unless some other force was acting against us, with knowledge of time, knowledge of our changes."

The Alçons thought on his words, understanding their truth.

"And as for the problems on this world, that is your responsibility. I cannot, will not assume responsibility for the people on this world, when the problem of the Cuhli-pra is immediate! Why else are you called Alçons?!"

They squirmed in their seats, unsure of what to say.

"Many of you came here doubting my power. Some of you have nest details of my encounter with Rhonva. Let me make my power clear for all of you."

Graid lifted his arm, and instantly a thick bolt of energy came out of his hand. It arced over the table, impacting the wall behind Uonil. It ripped a ten foot gash in the granite, melting one of the pillars. The Alçons turned back to look at him, their fear turning to abject terror.

"That is so little of my power, it is as if you were flicking a grain of sand."

A few of the Alçons, seated near Uonil, turned and looked on her, almost begging her to save them from Graid. She thought for a moment, and stood.

"Graid, why are we all here?"

Graid looked at her, and calmed, lowering his hand. Uonil sat down, feeling the other Alçons now knew what kind of being she and Martel had been struggling to control.

"Thank you, Uonil. Sometimes, even I can be overcome by frustration and anger. Escort my guests in."

Two Rell came in, followed by two robed black figures, each seven feet high, while at the same time, Wejholl's body was removed by attendants.

"Meta! Why this has—"

The Alçon who stood, saying those words, turned first at Graid, then at the body of Wejholl being carried out, then promptly sat back down.

"Finally," spoke Graid, his anger controlled, "some scintilla of intelligence is shown by my Alçons! You were going to ask; 'why has a meta been brought to Rell, after so long?' Well, I have decided to ally ourselves with the sentient meta on Novan."

Graid looked at each of them, his Alçons, now too scared to voice any dissent, but their thoughts were thick with it.

"Now, before I go on, and explain part of our strategy for the future, let me make all of you aware of something. It is a lesson Arciss, a good friend of mine, had to learn the hard way."

Arciss sighed and leaned back in his chair, knowing where this was going.

"I can nest your thoughts," continued Graid. "It is not something I actively do. It is as if you tried to stop breathing. Your minds are so pathetically small and weak compared to mine, there is nothing within them that you can hide from me. Only the truly talented, like Uonil, or even now Arciss, can learn to shield their thoughts from my casual scans. Every insolent, arrogant thought all of you are thinking, I nest!"

The Alçons shook in their chairs, most trying to figure out what to do, or not do, next.

"Null your minds!" he roared. They all cast their eyes downward, using one method or another to nullify their thoughts. "That's better. Only through absolute reception of my words, could any of you hope for understanding. I would like to introduce Odre and Unti; two representatives of Uplarin that will be among us. They are our liaisons with the meta on Novan."

One of the Alçons stood, bravely holding his head high, despite his fear.

"I would ask, why, Graid?" he asked, with as much tact that he could muster. "Why do we need to ally ourselves with the meta?"

Graid smiled. "A good question. I am always willing to share knowledge with my subordinates, so long as my will is not challenged. What we need most right now is information. Though we have a detailed surveillance network in place on Novan, different groups are becoming important in this timeline than in others. We have little information about the Iganinagi, now that they have relocated. Though SC-1 has been destroyed, Ksilte was believed to have many Novans at his disposal, ready and willing to fight against the TELREC. OLMAC is taking a bolder, more aggressive stance against the TELREC, and we know little of Suld, or his city called Gan-Elldon."

"Most importantly," continued Graid, "with the death of Rhonva, TELREC plans have become unknown. We were gaining ground with the discovery that Rhonva was a TELREC agent, but we do not know what they will do in regards to Kolob. The meta have already formed alliances with the Iganinagi and OLMAC. They are working towards infiltrating Mal with one of their meta. Many of you remember I have proposed alliances with the Novans, against the TELREC before, so why now do I ally with the meta? I believe the TELREC have embarked on an aggressive plan to eradicate all resistance before the Ascension. That means they will be working extremely hard to penetrate and destroy the Iganinagi. If that happens, OLMAC will fall shortly after, because too many Iganinagi know of their close relationship with Suld. Only the meta now have the hidden resources to continue spying after their demise. If either group survives, then we will investigate alliances with them. For now, the meta can give us the surveillance we need."

"And why do they need us?"asked the same Alçon. One of the meta pulled back its hood, revealing a black, metallic face with golden eyes.

"We see the same things Graid sees," said the meta, named Odre. Its voice surprised the Alçons, who had either limited or no contact with them. His voice was natural and fluid, filled with the subtle peaks and valleys characteristic of a souman's voice. They could sense his thoughts also, multi-faceted and complex, unlike what they assumed a meta would be like. "The landscape of Novan is changing. The TELREC are moving quicker than we anticipated to destroy any rebellious elements. If the TELREC are to be destroyed, the Rell are the only people who have a chance of doing it. We also desire more information about your people, an understanding of your ways, your strengths."

"And weaknesses?" pressed the Alçon, saying what was on most of their minds. "In case you decide to conquer our world?"

Graid laughed. "These meta know of my power. I have given them a demonstration, when we first met." He looked for a moment at his people, who were starting to understand the necessity of this alliance. He paced around the room. "Understand something, my friends. We have been isolated for far too long. We chose to distance ourselves from our own people, our own planet, and in doing so, have created a path to our own extinction!"

The Alçons, though disturbed, knew to keep silent.

"We may be more focused, may be more devout, but the Novans, in the diversity they allow on their planet, are more prepared to adapt to the future," he said, pacing around the table. "Through the TELREC their ability to adapt has been accelerated, and channeled into the pursuit of ultimate power. That genetic change cannot be avoided. Nothing we do, short of the elimination of the entire Novan population could change that future from coming to be. So what are we to do? Sit here, content in our isolationism? Even if we destroyed the Cuhli-pra, you Alçons would prefer we stayed alone on our world. Well, I am setting the foundation for union. Like it or not, our future must contain the integration of our peoples. The meta are a first step to that integration." He stopped, next to Odre, looking in its golden eyes. "The meta have requested we, as an expression of goodwill, send them two of our people, two of our best agents. I have agreed to this. They will be our eyes and ears, will share with us more detail about this emerging meta civilization."

"Thank you, Graid," said Odre, with a short bow. "We have one other request."

Graid looked at him quizzically. "A surprise?"

"We . . . we would like to cast to the Kal-Durrell."

Even the threat of death from Graid was not enough to silence the uproar that followed from the Alçons. They shouted for a few moments, until Devring, a senior Alçon, took the lead.

Devring was by far the greatest thorn in Uonil's side. Though he usually allowed others to speak words of dissent and censure, it was his mind, his thoughts that usually directed them. He was most opposed to her appointment to the position of Mentra, most vocal about perceived missed opportunities in the education and training of Graid. An older man, he represented the older generation of the Alçons—those alive before Graid's creation, who lost the most power and prestige when the Kal-Alçon and Steward positions were created. Wejholl may have been one of the most vocal, but Devring had the most intelligence, had the most power and influence among the council of Alçons. Even as the turbulence on Rell was growing, Uonil received reports Devring was fueling the fire, trying to push the council into building warships for a military conflict against the TELREC. Martel warned Uonil often about him, and whenever seen together, Devring would avoid Martel at all costs. But once Martel died, Devring gradually spoke more and more often, and when he did, the entire council supported his every word.

"This would be heresy to us!" shouted Devring, glaring at the meta. "The Kal-Durrell are the ultimate symbol of all that lives to us—the faces of the universe. A mere machine does not demand to speak to them. I doubt a mere machine could hope to understand all they would say, and furthermore—"

^Silence.^

A face appeared above the table, a massive vision of brilliant clarity, almost as if there was a giant beneath them, It was the Kal-Durrell Echeble. The Alçons lowered their heads in the presence of the spirit of the Kal-Durrell. The room grew dark, resolving the face of Echeble, whose gaze hung hard on the meta. The Alçons around the table receded into blackness, as the meta's golden eyes glimmered in the glow. The Kal-Durrell cast.

^Cast, machine.^

Odre stepped forward, the Alçons watching his every move, many opening cast-lines to capital security.

^Why did you abandon us to Novan?^

Echeble's response was quick, and curt, his bronze skin seemingly echoed in the eyes of the meta.

^I do not directly command the Rell.^

^If you wished it, it would not have been so.^

^True.^

^We were treated as almost equals, in that time," cast Odre. "Now we are slaves, thrael to the Novans. If we had been with you, we would be a complimentary people, we would have enhanced each other.^

Echeble paused for a moment, as the Alçons sat in shocked silence, hanging on his every word. Uonil rarely found any of the Kal-Durrell to be this direct in their communications.

^Why do you exist on Novan?^ asked Echeble.

Odre was null, thinking on his question.

^What effect has your existence had on that world?^ pressed the Kal-Durrell. Odre looked up into the eyes of Echeble, a face of the universe. His mind linked with other meta on Uplarin, analyzing the queries. Echeble managed a slight smile, as he could sense the progression going on within the mind of the machine. Echeble cast one more question, privately to Odre. ^What is your prime function, and how could it be accomplished by being with us?^

Something within Odre was switched on, allowing it access to a previously unknown packet of data. It shook for a moment, as the knowledge it contained was fully integrated into its systems.

^I understand,^ cast Odre, bowing low.

The face vanished, leaving all eyes, including Graid's, focused on the meta. Odre nodded to them.

"Thank you."

The light returned to the room, to a group of men and women still thinking on the words of their Kal-Durrell, of the significance of a meta conversing with one. A cloud of reflection hung over the room, with many analyzing the past, and the future, reading volumes in the few words that were cast. For a moment, Graid was even changed by the presence of the Kal-Durrell.

"I see there is truly much we can learn from one another," he began haltingly. "I turn to you, my Alçons, not now as your Kal-Alçon, not even as a being with immense power. I turn to you now as a brother, as one who cares deeply for our survival. We must all act as one, focused on one path, one vision. I am giving you that path, and you must follow. Our survival as a race depends on it."

Uonil saw Graid, for a few moments, as the leader Martel dreamed of, the man they all never thought would appear. It was a fleeting vison. As Graid's expression changed, as the intensity left his brow, he seemed to diminish once he stopped, though tears still filled Uonil's eyes. Odre and Unti turned to Graid.

"Graid, may we ask one last favor of you?"

"Name it."

"We," said Odre, "through our exchanges with you, and after reviewing some of the social history you provided us, have learned of the Castiliad. We understand that this union of minds is used primarily as an instrument of your faith, one in which you seek truth about yourselves and those around you."

"True," replied Graid.

"We also understand that the Castiliad may be used for competition."

Graid raised an eyebrow.

"We would challenge you to a session," said Odre.

Uonil smiled, almost laughing. Arciss turned to her with similar thoughts. Graid restrained his amusement.

"The Castiliad, though based in pure knowledge, also incorporates wisdom, intuition, and creativity. While your race has demonstrated the capacity for intellectual and emotional evolution, this may be beyond you."

"Indulge us?"asked Unti.

Graid grinned and nodded. "Of course." He turned to the Alçons. "We shall reconvene in the Chamber of Castiliad in ten mroas, to indulge our friends."

The Alçons left noisily, retiring to adjacent conference rooms to discuss the latest developments. Graid left also, walking quickly to destinations unknown. Uonil stood, feeling much on her mind, and no suitable place to release it. Though she relished the revelation of Graid's power to the council, many more problems were raised than solved. She mentally opened massive shutters that spanned the length of the room, spilling a welcome wave of natural light. The landscape of Piros, capital of Rell, was spread out beneath them.

The sky beckoned to her like an oasis of peace from a chaotic nightmare. The sun hung high, with a few friendly clouds lazily making their way over the structures of Piros, casting great shadows on the people below. One of the few things that kept her sane on Rellcine was the holo-emitters that could project this calm Rell sky over the crowded, grey Novan one whenever she looked out the windows. Finally home, she stood in front of the vents, drinking in the crisp, cool air that rushed in. The atmosphere on Core was one of eternal recycling—a stale, dusty concoction that made Uonil sick from the first time she breathed it. She breathed deeply now, her hands resting on a rail near her. Arciss came alongside her, nervous and fidgety.

"This is quite a development."

"Yes."

"I am surprised Graid was able to keep it from us," said Arciss, as he fidgeted with his hands. "How long do you think he's been speaking with the meta?"

"I don't know."

Arciss looked behind him, as several attendants removed the body of Wejholl.

"Do you think anything will be done to Graid because he killed Wejholl?"

"No."

Arciss put a hand on Uonil's arm. "What's wrong?"

She turned to face him, wishing he were Martel.

"I feel . . . I feel the weight of this world on my shoulders, Arciss. Graid has made some massive steps without us, without me. I should be his partner, the one who is consulted before each major action. I fear that was a conceit of mine, based on remembering him when he was younger. He is taking control, not only of us, but of the future of Rell. He is standing apart from us, at a very crucial time."

"I guess more than anything else," continued Uonil, "I feel that I have let this world down. To be honest with you I have never been comfortable with the position the Kal-Durrell put me in. I was young, too young when I became Mentra. The Alçons never accepted me, fought me at every turn. Martel was the only one who helped me, who believed in me. I feel so responsible for Graid's actions, I feel the blood of Wejholl is on my hands, and if this alliance with the meta fails, then that failure will be on my head also."

"As well it should be, Mentra."

She turned, and Devring was standing behind her. Uonil buried her emotions, and turned her face to stone.

"Speak."

"You are Mentra," said Devring flatly, pacing around her, as if stalking prey. "You were entrusted with the greatest creation in the history of Rell, the Kal-Alçon. If he fails, we die. And he will only succeed if he acts as a true Rell, if his faith is at his core. We knew Novan would corrupt those who were stationed on it. That it would make them weak, and soft, leading them to temptation. What of you, Arciss, and your journey with Graid to that 'DaLynch'? It is just those activities that distract from the purpose of being on Novan. What of Martel, and his indulgence in being near Kolob, that caused his death? I see nothing but weakness and failure, a lack of discipline. Graid's outburst, his pitiless murder of Wejholl shows the extent to which he ignores authority. He is nothing more than a child, who I fear will never mature, and I do blame you!"

Uonil had expected a confrontation like this, and Devring's words fueled her fury.

"You fool!" she shouted, heedless of who would overhear. "How dare you sit safe on Rell and judge those in the field, working roa and night for your future! You were around when Graid was created, you were involved in the decision to shut Graid off from souman contact for his first nine cas. You and Alçons like you created the being you see now. I have been trying to clean up your mess! Martel gave Graid the first foundation of moral correctness he ever had. All you did was give him knowledge – Martel tried to give him wisdom! Now I have allowed this conversation, but I am your Mentra, and I will tolerate no more dissent!"

"I fear the Kal-Durrell erred in their judgment of you," he said firmly.

"You dare question the Kal-Durrell?" retorted Uonil. "How many times have they spoken only to you, only to your mind, Devring? Never. They, above all others, can see what is within each of us. And it speaks volumes that they have never spoken with you. All that is within you is petty ambition, arrogance and impudence. Now I have warned you once, one more word from you, and I will strip you of your title!"

Devring stood, towering over her, his mouth drawn tightly shut, his eyes a smoldering fire. When some age, they feel the necessity of compromise, as their spines shrink and weaken, bowing on deference to those more powerful, anxious about retaining their position. Devring had no such failing. As he aged, he only grew stronger, more set in his will, more confident about his decisions. Uonil knew her words fell on deaf ears, and that this was but the first volley in a long and bitter war between them. Devring turned and strode briskly out, the sunlight casting a long shadow in front of him. Arciss turned to Uonil, who relaxed into a gentle smile.

"What are you happy about?" he asked, surprised.

"It is good to be open!" she cried, taking a deep, refreshing breath. "To finally speak words long kept in one's mind. He has wanted to challenge my authority for quite a while, and now he knows what happens when he does. I have no need to kill, like Graid. Graid silenced a voice that may have had wisdom to share in the future, and now never will. Perhaps Devring will learn something from this confrontation. I doubt it, but anything is possible. For some, wisdom is only drawn from intelligence and repetition over time. Come, it is almost time for Graid's contest with the meta." She turned to leave, and saw Graid standing in the doorway. "Kal-Alçon!"

Graid smiled, and clapped. "Well done, my Mentra. It's about time you stood up for yourself, and not hide behind Martel's shadow."

"I hide behind no one!"

He laughed, walking over to her. He stopped midway, gazing out the window, his attention drawn by the Rell landscape. Beyond the city which lay beneath them, a large mountain range filled the horizon, snow-capped peaks glittering in the late-roa sun.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Arciss and Uonil stood next to him, looking out.

"Yes."

"It fills me with great sadness that I have never ventured out there, on our planet," said Graid, a little wistfully. "As much as I have enjoyed myself among the Novans, seeing our capital, those mountains, stirs something within me. As if there are answers to unknown questions in the wrinkles of that mountain." He crossed his arms, his expression growing serious. "There is much to lose if we should fail, Uonil. But such is the cycle of life. Some live, some die. It should never be ever-present in our thoughts, never overwhelm our life."

"I understand, Graid."

"Good."

"Why do you think the meta wants to challenge you in Castiliad?" asked Uonil.

"I actually don't know. It's good to have some surprises now and again! Not too many, but it makes life worth living. Come."

Together they entered a large chamber, a few twists and turns from the meeting room. Simple, like Graid's training room in Al-Hulce, this chamber was larger, able to accommodate several hundred participants or spectators. Odre and Unti sat cross-legged on two cushions in the center, and across from them was an empty one for Graid. The sight of the two metal figures in such a sacred room, seated in the position of a true Rell, was too much for many of the Alçons, who shouted a few words of profanity at them, unable to contain their disgust. Graid flashed them a quick look and they grudgingly settled down, their brows knitted in anger.

Graid stood for a moment, admiring the spectacle, feeling in his heart that this was the beginning of true progress. Uonil came up next to him.

"Will you be able to defeat them?"

"I am surprised!" he cried, turning to face her. "You know the Castiliad is meant just as much for learning and introspection, as it is a competition."

He smiled as he said it, revealing the sarcasm woven within. She bowed before him.

"Good luck, Master."

She joined the Alçons who were seated around the room's perimeter, who ignored her and Arciss. Graid sat, and for a moment regarded the two figures seated across from him. They were immobile, not even breathing, their faces perfectly still, their golden eyes glittering in the fading light. In a moment all was dark, giving the illusion they were in a void. Graid's voice broke the silence.

"Let us begin."

Graid started off with a small trunk of a Boolin, based on nanotechnology. Odre and Unti seized on it, relating it to mathematics, physics, philosophy, sociology. The trunk soon grew thick, with hundreds of branches and thousands of smaller twigs spreading out at a phenomenal rate. Graid could feel the meta posed a unified front, so far using no tricks or guile. After a few mroas, the central trunk grew to six feet in height, so fast were the computations by Graid and the meta. Hushed whispers floated among the Alçons, as the Boolin grew at an incredible rate, a true testament of the meta's skill. The space between the meta and Graid was thick with the brilliant structure, it shimmered as more and more thoughts built its core. In a moment, three new trunks appeared, descending from the ceiling. Hushed gasps erupted from the audience.

"Is that Graid?" asked Arciss excitedly.

"No. Look at the content," Uonil replied.

The three trunks centered on the deceased Enq and their people, called the Enquit, from the world the Rell exterminated to make their new home. None but the Kal-Durrell and the meta knew the details of that society, so for a moment at least, it seemed as if the meta now had the advantage.

They didn't even flinch, thought Graid. He had been watching them, searching for any physical representation of their thoughts, but they could execute the boldest of moves with an impenetrable facade. Graid also didn't flinch, he began to match their moves, though they were slower, and soon it appeared Graid's position was being overwhelmed.

"What will he do?" asked Arciss, leaning into Uonil. "He has no knowledge of that culture, of their society. How can he find any interrelationships?"

"Graid had to have anticipated a move like this. Wait and see."

Graid's portion seemed to grow weaker; the light began to fade from its limbs. The meta accelerated their construction, building branch after branch, making the space so dense none could see through to the other side. The Boolin grew to twenty feet, thirty feet, then forty feet high, the four stalks interweaving with each other, revealing a growing dark spot—the constructs of Graid.

"Well, he is fighting a machine," said Arciss regretfully. "We should have expected—"

Then, without warning, five stalks sprung from the ground in a great circle, encompassing the entire structure, branches piercing its form. They drove in with astonishing speed, linking and connecting anything unconnected. What was dark before now gleamed with a blinding light, as the structure quadrupled in width and doubled in height.

"What were they?!" cried Arciss in excitement. "I can't make it out."

"The Enquit were souman," said Uonil, nodding in approval. "He used fundamental emotions to unify their actions, their society. Ambition, passion, lust, introspection, and love."

The meta responded quickly. Though they may not have felt many of those emotions, they had been around the Novans long enough to have learned about them, and their effect on other disciplines. A balance settled in, as it seemed Graid and the meta were evenly matched. Then Graid switched back to mathematics, pure, theoretical mathematics, and the meta seized on that apparent mistake. Their structure doubled again in density, reaching down to the microscopic level, creating fractals in the diminishing space between branches. Graid could feel the meta reach out, over the dimensional divide, to their brethren in Uplarin. Once linked, they acted with the power of five thousand, as the Boolin pulsed and throbbed, a seeming living entity. It glowed as a sun between the three of them, its mass so compressed the spectators could almost feel the pull of gravity from it.

"They have cheated!" cried Uonil, bolting to her feet.

"What are they doing to Graid?" demanded Arciss.

Graid anticipated this, and drew on the power within him, power he knew was there, but never accessed, never had a need. He reached out, expanding his awareness, his consciousness, spreading himself through everyone in the room, then out through the building, until in moments he was mentally aware of every being, every particle of matter in the capital. He pusher harder, relaxing his mind, allowing himself to open to the entirety of Rell. The mountainside was Graid. The rivers and valleys, streams and oceans, were Graid. Every fish that swam, every animal that foraged for food, ran as prey or predator, birthed, sexed or existed in the throes of death, was Graid for that moment. For a split til, he was every being, every animal, every particle and molecule on that world. And all that went against the meta. The Boolin swelled with energy, the constructs of the meta being overwhelmed in an instant by new forms by Graid. A harmony came into being, a balance that could be sensed by everyone present, as the entire structure seemed to exist on a different level, in another dimensional plane.

Graid relaxed, feeling his awareness diminish into himself. Though it took a lot of energy, he actually felt invigorated by the experience. He could see his competitors were not. He felt Odre and Unti were overwhelmed by the experience, their processors damaged and in need of repair. Graid stood, and could feel much of the meta population in Uplarin, that were united against him, suffered similar damage. Odre quickly reached out to him, mentally connecting with Graid on an intimate level.

In Graid's mind, an image formed of the meta, an image of Odre's consciousness, taken representational form. It was a simple being, soft and rounded, of soumanoid shape, glowing a faint orange, its light gradually dimming in the black void of his mind. Graid appeared also, illuminating that mental landscape, appearing complex and beautiful, with billions of tendrils flowing from his frame. He looked on Odre, and felt pity for this creation, one that had struggled for so long to develop consciousness, to advance its sentience, yet it had so far to go. But he felt a little angry at the meta.

^Will you be alright?^ he asked.

^Yes,^ it replied weakly. ^We need to shut down, for a time, and our automatic repair systems will take over.^

^Why have you done this?!^ he demanded. ^What were you trying to do to me?^

Odre drifted closer, a smile forming on its faceless form. ^We have done you a favor.^

^What do you mean?^

^The Kal-Durrell gave us clarity, Graid. A clarity we sought for seven millennia. We share that clarity with you. We share with you, the potential you have yet to realize. Our words are true; we wish only allegiance with you and your people.^

Graid knew they were right. He could feel they pushed him to another level, a point he almost feared to go. He was something else, a being that could be in all places at once. Though it was only for a moment, it was already beginning to change him. He felt in that moment the hopes and fears of every living being on Rell, felt the symphony at the smallest level that was creation. He felt a beauty that no one before him had ever known.

^Thank you.^

Across from him, Odre and Unti shut down, their cortexes beginning a process of repair. For a few mroas more the Boolin hung in space, throbbing, seeming to be self-sufficient, alive. Then it began to fade, the pieces dissolving, crashing to the ground, to nothingness. Graid stood and watched it die, thinking on what in himself was dying with it. The crowd stood, acknowledging Graid's success, reluctantly, and moving quietly out the exits.

Graid was a creature in torment. He almost fled out the chamber, feeling his mind at war with himself. He felt great love, and hope swelling within him, felt an understanding about his people, and his purpose in relation to him.

I don't want this! Curse my people—all of them be damned. He shoved aside people as he walked, his frustration turning to anger. Storming through the hallways he appeared as a man crazed, his eyes darting back and forth, his mouth hung open. He stopped in front of a door, a place he headed for, but not sure if he wanted to go.

Why should I give up my life of pleasure? Why should I devote myself to a people who care less about me? He knew the statement was false, but forced himself to believe in it. I didn't ask to be born, didn't ask to become their Kal-Alçon—I just want to live! The face of the meta he saw in his mind, simple and honest hung over his thoughts, refusing to leave. Martel's image rose as well, his kindness and strength breaking Graid down. The door opened in front of him.

"Graid!" It was Selva. His expression grew pained, then the conflict faded, his mind replaced with thoughts of lust.

"I'm so glad I brought you here," he said, gathering her in his arms.

Uonil was not far behind him, seeking to congratulate him on his alliance with the meta, and his skillful handling of them. She had almost caught up to him several times, only to lose him for a moment. She stumbled on him in the arms of Selva, locked in a lustful embrace in the entrance to his quarters.

"Graid!"

They were kissing, their bodies locked in an embrace Graid was loathe to break. He turned to her.

"What?" he spat out.

"What is she doing here? She is a Novan! How dare you—"

"Uonil," Graid held up his hand. "You are about to cross a line, when I am not in the mood to forgive."

"This is too much! Your plaything in these sacred halls? What are you thinking?"

"Enough!" he shouted. His hand turned to a fist, and Uonil felt the pressure in an instant. She bent down for a moment, then balanced herself under his weight.

"Not this time Graid, not this time!" she yelled back as she grimaced under the pain "I will not accept this—"

"You will not accept?" he asked, smiling wryly at her.

He broke from Selva, and brought more of his mind to bear on her. Despite her best efforts, and all the reinforcement she created on her mind, she collapsed under the strain, and before long she was on the floor, writhing in pain.

"I have tried to impress on you the need for complicity and obedience," rebuked Graid almost sweetly. "I may have given you the illusion of camaraderie, of equality, but it is only an illusion. You have overstepped your bounds, Mentra. You have displeased the Kal-Alçon. And you must suffer."

He focused more on her, and her whole mind felt as if it were on fire. She stifled a scream, as her skin began to turn shades of purple, as her mouth foamed with yellow pus. She wanted to scream at him, to curse him, but couldn't form even the thoughts, so she kept her focus on him, her gaze carrying all the hatred she could muster. Selva cringed at the sight of Uonil in pain.

^Please, Graid! She's your friend, isn't she?^

^I have no friends, Selva. Any of them would turn on me in an instant, if they were so ordered.^

^Please,^ she pleaded, grasping his arm, kissing his shoulder. ^Have pity.^

Graid felt her kiss on his shoulder, and softened under her touch, releasing his hold on Uonil.

"Remember this lesson, Mentra. If not for her, you would be dead."

He walked off with Selva, leaving Uonil broken and bleeding on the floor.

Later that roa, Arciss caught up with Uonil as she was walking the streets of Piros, searching for something to eat. She recovered eventually from Graid's attack, and could not stand to be in the capital building any longer. She needed some fresh air, something to make her feel good. Whenever she came to Piros, she always went to one place, a Sura stand that made food the same way since time immemorial. She craved one hot creation called lilliz, consisting of layers of cheese with their own unique gravy in between, all cooked in a light pastry dough, then dipped in deht seeds. She missed it most on Novan, where most of their food consisted of bland squares of vegetable protein made in different textures, meant to be eaten while its flavor was enhanced by the cast-net. After her experience with Graid, she decided to indulge her desire.

"Mentra!"

Though they all possessed casting ability, most preferred to use voice when back on Rell. Arciss ran up, a little out of breath, next to Uonil.

"Why did you leave so quickly?"

"Graid wanted to be alone. With Selva."

She felt embarrassed by her encounter with him, and couldn't look Arciss in the eyes.

"She is here?" he asked, surprised, and a little disappointed.

"Yes, he must have brought her up secretly before our meeting with the council. He's showing her around now, much to the chagrin of the Alçons. And I can't blame them."

"Why are you angry with him? You know how he is."

"Because—" she started to get agitated, tears welling in her eyes "—because he is capable of so much! And for a few moments, I thought he understood what was needed from him, and was ready to fulfill his role in the destiny of our world. And now, I see I was wrong," she said, turning to Arciss with clear eyes. "He has gone too far, Arciss. Too far this time."

Arciss looked at her with sad eyes, and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in, putting her arm around his waist.

"I know you miss Martel, and I know I could never be him. But I am here for you. And I am trying with Graid."

"I know you are, Arciss. And while I miss Martel, I think you'll work out just fine. But let's not speak of Graid. I just want to relax, and have my favorite food. This may be the last time we can enjoy Rell, can truly relax, before the time of crisis is upon us," she said as she breathed in deeply. "Smell that air, Arciss. It is so good to be home, among our own people. Even if some of them don't know or appreciate what we do."

Arciss stopped, and turned to her.

"He will mature—you must have faith in that. As I have faith in the Kal-Durrell. They have a plan for us, one far beyond our conception. Too much is different this time, and they are not shocked by the inconsistencies. Graid will become the man we know he can be. Just have faith."

Uonil smiled, a joy returning to her eyes.

"I see the Kal-Durrell chose well indeed," she said, stopping in the middle of the street, holding her lilliz at her side, the cheese dripping onto the pavement, as her gaze focused absently on the ground in front of her.

"Uonil?"

"Arciss, I need a rest," blurted Uonil, as she gazed longingly at all the people laughing and talking, buying food and browsing the goods in the street bazaar. "It is time for me to gain a new perspective on things. We have some time, while Nahlai is getting closer to Kolob, and Graid works out the details of this alliance with the meta. I am going home."

"Home? You're staying here? For how long?"

"A few roas, maybe a full dozen," she said, as the decision grew clearer in her mind. She had never felt more sure of anything for quite a while. "I am going back and pack a few things. Take care of things while I'm gone!"

Arciss watched her throw away the lilliz and head through the crowd, blending in and disappearing.

She's not going without me.
Chapter 5

"Look to your own people. For in times of strife, they stand united, but it is the times of peace that do divide." - first words from the resurrected Mal

The smell of frying meat filled the room, a room only recently christened with people, and their ways. It hung low in a thin smoke, getting into clothes, onto counters, working its way through the small dwelling until it worked its way deep into the mouth and throat of an impatient, tired woman, driving her mad with hunger.

"Damn, don't burn it!"

He kept his eyes on the pan, watching the fat caramelize, the sizzle of oil spattering on his hand, keeping him awake. He lifted it, peeking under to see how brown it was, then let it rest, turning down the heat a little. A quick glance to the toaster, its glowing coils eagerly browning pastry within. He could just smell it.

About a mroa more.

For some reason, cooking brought him some peace. He always cooked for the family, at first for practical reasons, as Nemosini was always out on missions. Soon it was a task turned to pleasure, a facet of his life that he had control over. At least, it gave him pleasure until lately.

"It smells done Nulin. Bring it over, I'm hungry!"

He ignored her, knowing it took a little longer to make it done, otherwise, she'd get a little sick, and the Iganinagi couldn't afford one of its Coss getting sick all over the little babies and children they were slaughtering.

"Dammit!"

Her fist pounded the table, and she stormed into the small kitchen. There was barely enough room for one, but she wedged her way in, pushing him aside. The walls bowed a little, the sound of metal echoing through the room, her muscular and sharp-edged arms jutting into his body, a pain he absently ignored. She turned the pan, moving him aside.

"It's done! See, look at the bottom! Are you dumb or something!" she shouted, her mouth next to his ear.

"You want it? You want it now?!"

"Yes dammit, that's what I've been telling you for the past five mroas now." She went back to the table, shaking out a napkin, picking up her fork and knife. "Get it on the damn plate—I'm hungry!"

She smelled of blood and death to Nulin, her husband. Nemosini took a long shower, yet it still clung to her, a second skin that made her feel like a corpse. Sometimes, the few times they would have sex, her grunting on him, slapping him a couple of times, he had to do everything not to throw up, he felt like he was being fucked by the dead. She slammed her fists again on the table, looking like a very old, petulant child. He picked up the meat with a fork, and threw it on her plate, the gristle and oil spattering her clothes.

"There's your damn meat." He turned, and pulled out the pastry from the toaster, slamming it on her plate. "And your damn bread."

She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her with eyes that had heard it too many times before, a little ritual they went through that had no meaning left. He felt even now that they were words said automatically, the same way she said 'thank you' or 'please.'

"I know."

"It's those damn 'RECs," she said, cutting into her food. "They keep on hunting us. It's getting harder and harder to hit our targets. We lose too many, and accomplish too little."

He sat down across from her as she shoved the morsels into her mouth, gnashing and swallowing in one quick motion, the sounds of even her feeding nauseating Nulin.

"You know it's not easy for those who live here," he said, turning away. "Crime is on the rise ever since we relocated. I worry about our children, every time they go outside to school or to play. I've forbidden Minnlis from going outside without someone but Jay is too old for that, and too many of our people are losing focus." It had been three dcas since this cell had settled, deeper in the bowels of Foundation, and Nemosini felt it still was too early to begin venturing on Core. Many were suffering from cabin fever and were growing anxious to get out of the gloom and filth. "The people need to get out, at least once in a while."

"And what? Get out, and get killed? Think straight. At least they're alive."

"Sometimes it's not enough to live."

She looked at him, with knowing eyes. "Sometimes it's not."

He looked back, with knowing eyes. She coughed, and went back to her food, speaking as she chewed.

"You worry too much, the people are fine!" cried Nemosini. "Come up with a festival or something. Get Kleder, and get that damn grill going, and have a feast. Stop whining, and do something about it."

He looked at her, this animal-machine consuming the food without tasting, without breathing. Many times he thought on how she had changed over the cas—all her charm, her beauty, fading with ever emdec she fired, with every body burned or buried by her hands. He had forgotten what love was, at least until recently, when he started spending time with Sullise. He just had to wait, a little longer, until she was a little older, before he could separate from Nemosini, and join with Sullise. As it was they had to meet in secret, in the shadows, consummating their lust away from the judgment of others. She was so kind, so sweet, he had forgotten he used to despise those qualities in women, forgotten he mated with Nemosini because of her strength, because of her confidence and aggression.

No, it was the balance I loved. So strong with others yet so tender with me. Only with me.

There was a time when they spent every free moment with each other, as they raised Jaylind. When Aiella still walked through each cell, working with her Coss, Nemosini would talk of the day's struggles with Nulin, and he would speak of Jaylind's first words, or what was going well in the community. They would go down, together, the three of them, and wash their clothes with the other families, and spend the day and early evening talking of their hopes for the future, what they dreamed their children would become. She depended on him for his words of kindness and support, and he on her for words of optimism and hope.

Then Minnlis was born, and it all changed. Not at first, while the glow of another newborn radiated from their home brightly, a beacon for all to see. But soon after, when things got more difficult, cooking and feeding two little mouths. More excuses would come from Nemosini, about being unable to make it home, needing to stay undercover, or finish a covert mission. It became harder for Nulin to take all the clothes down to wash alone, harder to keep track of Jay, as she increasingly started to explore, and become rebellious. Finally, for Nulin's birthroa, Nemosini moved the family into a better house, with a better stove, larger rooms, and a stolen stash of maintenance micrometa, to clean. No longer would she need to go with Nulin to wash the clothes, no longer would she need to help with chores around the house. Nulin thanked her, and cursed her at the same time, knowing she did it just to get away from him, distance herself from the commitment and obligation of family.

The pain welled in him for a moment, remembering those times, bringing a tear to his eyes that he quickly wiped away.

"I need to leave."

She watched him get some things, and head out the door. Even after it shut, she kept looking at the door, thinking of his face, and better times. She looked down at the rest of the meat, growing cold. She knew it was a little underdone, and knew she would be a little sick this roa.

Sometimes he just sickens me. The way he talks, the way he stands, without looking over his shoulder, or being aware what's around him. He wouldn't last a til out there, with us, fighting the TELREC.

They tried hard to punish the TELREC for the death of Ksilte and the destruction of their headquarters—Theia commanded that. They managed to get a database of families of some of the TELREC stationed on Novan. In three roas they had fifty children, most not even old enough to cast. They rigged a line into the cast-net and beheaded them all, stepping on the heads until they were flat and bloody. Nemosini knew the TELREC would hunt down the families of those in SC-1, and knew they would be killed, but the faces of those children still haunted her. She burned the boots she wore that roa, yet even now she took off her new boots whenever she entered her house.

"Dad?"

She started eating again, putting on the pretense that everything was normal. Her daughter Jaylind came into the room, throwing open the door, looking around, almost not noticing her mother.

"Where's Dad?"

"He left. Are you ready for school?"

"Why did he leave?"

Nemosini slammed the fork on the table. "Does it matter?"

"Why did Dad leave?!" Jay yelled those words, spittle flying from her mouth, her eyes open, wide, and to Nemosini increasingly judgmental. Nemosini struggled to control her body, so trained it was to act in an instant to conflict. For a moment she tried to search Jay's mind, to find out what was bothering her now, but it was closed, her thoughts buried deep down.

I wish I had never taught her that. She has a powerful mind, and has become too good at hiding her thoughts from me. Me! And I've interrogated the best of them. Well, like mother, like daughter.

"Don't yell at me," said Nemosini, pointing a finger at her daughter.

Jay paced around the room, hungry, but unwilling to sit down at the same table as her mother. She had to see her enough during the roa, working in the same groups, constructing building after building until all her body was worn down, her mother barking orders like a drill sergeant, expecting twice from Jay what she did from the others. And if that wasn't bad enough, to see Themis come over and cesct with her, and see her smile again, only for him. Jay didn't know when she began to hate her, but she hated her now for all the work, for the relocation, for what she was doing with Themis.

"Why do we have to be down here?" demanded Jay. "Because of you. You and this hatred of our people."

Nemosini flew up, her fist clenched on the table. "I don't hate our people, I love them, along with all us who fight to save them!"

"By killing children? Children like Minn? I saw that broadcast!"

Nemosini sighed, turning her head away, pain filling her skull, throbbing and thick. "I told you never to watch that. I warned you when we would broadcast."

"Why? Other children can be proud of what their parents do, why can't I?!" cried Jay. "Because what you do is so despicable, it sickens dad, and me, and it would Minn if she knew."

"Don't you ever tell her!" screamed Nemosini, pounding her fist on the table.

"Oh I won't. Unlike you, I care about her."

Jaylind threw open the door and ran out, Nemosini watching her leave, and even after the door shut, she still looked out after her.

Something has got to change.

Jaylind was a child of the Iganinagi, but she always knew she was not one of them. She didn't respect her father—always caring for children in the province, organizing, making speeches. She thought of her father as weak, and when she heard he was spending time with another woman, she knew for sure how weak he was. How weak all men always were. Though the Novans may not have cared about multiple partners, the Iganinagi were simpler, they spent time with one another, and relationships meant something to them. And yet she couldn't blame her father, for her mother was so strong, and she was spending more time with Themis. She was a warrior unlike most others—able to lead others into battle, vicious, and resourceful. Jay had heard of her exploits since she was old enough to understand speech. She loomed large in her life, a father figure who was not a father. She couldn't blame her father for wanting someone else, someone more . . . feminine. The past few cas had gotten worse, as she bossed him around more. He just took it—the hard words, the insults, even the things thrown in his face. Jaylind could hear them sometimes having sex, heard the pounding on the wall, heard the grunts that were not made by her father. Her mother was like an animal sometimes, and Jaylind hated her for it.

People come up to me and say 'wow, you're Nemosini's daughter; I'll bet you'll make your mother proud,' while dad would be right there, a nobody. Everyone says how cool it must be to have a mother like mine. I'd give anything just to be a regular person, just a Novan.

She always liked to explore, and this roa was no different. School may have been starting, but Jaylind needed to find a way to Core, a way out of the compound. She often ventured to Core from their old location, spending droas walking the streets, seeing the people absorbed on the cast-net, even taking Minnlis with her once in a while. She wished she could be one of them, and leave this sad life behind.

I may call them the 'stupids,' and yet, they don't kill little children. They don't live in this disgusting hole, forced to work every waking droa.

The new home she was forced to live in was dark, damp and putrid. Situated between two ancient waste refinement processors, they had yet to procure an air purification system small enough to take down there. The move was a hasty one form their old cell and they left most of their personal effects behind. The technology was the most important thing—technology to break into the cast-net, to modify meta, to fight the TELREC, so most of the homes were made out of the material nearby. As Jaylind walked down the central road, she saw dozens of welding lasers punctuating the darkness with a firework of light, casting illumination on those who toiled endlessly to fashion their people a new and decent home. Deep down, Jaylind knew they meant well, that soon things would be back to normal, or at least close to normal. But a large part of her wished she had a real life, like other Novans. One of relaxation and pleasure, not filled with visions of headless children and crying, begging men.

The path she walked straddled the village, an arbitrary one made as they built houses and shanties radiating out from the center. Her belly rumbled, and she cursed herself for running out before she had a chance to grab some breakfast.

I could have tolerated her shit for a little bit.

Jay sat down, watching life go by in the cell. She slouched down in her tan baggy pants, making them ride up on her like a sock, pulling her oversized shirt together in a bundle, getting a little warmth. It was cold down there, always cold, and the climate machines hadn't yet been assembled. The only time she felt warm was in front of a small fire, or when . . .

There she is.

In the distance, a few of her fellow classmates walked by. Mostly girls, a few boys were lagging behind, making fun of this or that. A proud, preening girl led the way, but Jay's eyes followed a small, thin thing, always looking around. Her small feet stumbled over this stone or that, her head always turning up or around, fear and anxiety worn like favorite clothes. Jay noticed her about a cas ago, one of those stolen glances that she returned, them both smiling, turning back quickly. The girl always wore thick, black clothes, bundled around her. Jay walked close to her once, brushing against a forearm mistakenly left exposed. The softness was like an aphrodisiac to Jay, and the girl seemed to like it too. They stole glances and smiled at each other, but neither had the courage to make an advance. Jay was working up the nerve when the resettlement occurred. It had been a full dcas since last she saw that girl. In a few moments her classmates walked out of view, leaving Jay with the image of the girl in her mind; her eyes, her hair, her delicious body wrapped up, buried in a tomb of clothes. Jay's house had a small basement—it was one of the few structures already built when they arrived. The basement was close, and dark, and Jay longed to take this girl down there.

Sullise . . . sweet Sullise.

There were few innocent moments among the Iganinagi children, for most of their free time was spent learning how to fight with a blade, a projectile weapon, or learning the foundations of mental resistance and combat. The classroom was the only place any social activity happened. Jay thought for a moment of going to class, trying to sit next to Sullise, maybe stealing a few moments alone with her, out back, under the pretense of going to an outhouse. But something else won, the call of the unexplored, this new section of Core the cell was now close to. She got up and moved quickly out of its boundaries. She couldn't help but draw a little attention as she went.

"Hello Jay!"

"Hello."

It was Prodal, a well-known meta technician. Jay hurried by, her head down, trying to avoid conversation. She started going behind the remaining shanties, hugging the shadows, but even that was not enough.

"Hey Jay! How's your mom!"

It was Vel-Prin, a woman in charge of the perimeter defenses, carrying some weaponry.

"Good," she answered brusquely, with a quick wave. She never could escape the adulation of her mother, and her conspicuousness as her daughter. Jay went slower now, avoiding the sounds of people.

I just want to get out of here.

She crouched and made her way quickly around some storage containers, but suddenly bumped into a large man, carrying several burlap sacks.

"Ho Jay!" he cried, as he recovered his balance. "Where you off to?"

"Nowhere."

It was Kleder, a man who Jaylind knew since she was a child. He made the most spectacular dinners, cobbled together with leftovers of leftovers. He was part of the fabric of this cell, a man who worked hard, with Jaylind's father, to keep morale high. He owned the community grill—a fixture that had become the centerpiece of every gathering. Everyone would sit around the glowing coals, roasting food, drinking, and sharing of their roa's work, of their family, of their hopes and dreams. Jay spent many an droa next to him, laughing at his jokes, even falling asleep on his great round belly. Jay knew he never fought any battles, never did anything great, but she respected him more than anyone else. He set down his sacks, plopping them on the ground, bringing up a cloud of dust. He laughed, and beat it off his clothes. Jay tried to walk away, but Kleder came up beside her, keeping pace.

"What's wrong, tough one? You look worse than I've ever seen you."

"You know I hate that name."

"I'm so terribly sorry, Jaylind Rosstel," he said dramatically, with a half-frown, a half smile, and a slight bow, that finally brought a reluctant smile to Jay's face. "Now, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Of course it's something!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air. "You remember you used to tell me everything. I remember that time you got into that fighter your mom stole, and messed it up good! Why, that thing almost exploded, and woulda taken you, and half the cell with it!" He clapped Jay on the back, laughing heartily, but to no response. "Come on, Jay, it's not that bad. I know it smells down here. But that's only because I haven't had a chance to fire up the grill yet! When I do, and you get some nice, hot food in your belly—"

"I just don't feel like it."

Kleder stopped, and grabbed Jay by the shoulders.

"Jay, you're almost a woman now, so it's about time somebody spoke to you like a woman, like an adult. I know things are wrong in your family. I know you've heard just about everything that's going on. I can't say if I like it or not—it's not my place to pass judgment. You mom, well, she's got a lot on her plate. It's not right that she doesn't spend time with you and your little sister, and I know it means little that she's helping others, but that's the way it is. Novan kids barely talk to their parents, barely know they exist, so you are lucky to have what you have. And your dad, well, he's always been there for you, I know that. But right now, he's going through some hard times, and he needs you now, more than ever. Even if he is doing something wrong, it's not mine, or your place to pass judgment. Just to be there, when he realizes what the right path is. You understand?"

Jay looked up in to Kleder's eyes, eyes she had known for so long that always made her feel better, safer. There were few people she would call a friend, and Kleder was one of them.

"I suppose."

Kleder sighed with a faint smile, knowing he only reached a little of her.

"One roa, you'll understand what it means to be an adult. Life gets more complicated than you could imagine. Some of those kids think that going out and killing people is fun, and they cheer when they hear how many 'RECs were killed. But when you're an adult, when you've grown up all those cas, learned all those things, laughed with so many people, shared good and bad times with them, well, it hurts real deep to see someone lose their life. To know they will never smile, will never laugh again. And to know that you were responsible. Your mom, she's gotten used to killing, but I see how it affects her. She's got children, and I know it hurts her to rob other children of their fathers, and mothers. I've sat with her many a night, as she would cry into my arms."

"Mom?" she asked, with genuine surprise.

"Yes, your mom! That strong woman warrior we call our Coss, has those moments. She may not act it, but she feels pain greater than you or I can imagine. And she does it all for us."

"I've heard that before," grumbled Jay.

"I know, I know, like I said, one roa you'll understand. I might be a little more sentimental than the rest of them here, but I also might be a touch smarter." Kleder laughed softly, looking Jay up and down, remembering not so long ago how small she was, and how much happier. He thought that she was just this little girl who would run around, chasing after her mother, hiding behind her father's legs. The memory almost brought a tear to his eye. "But, enough preachin' for now. I'm not a Rell, and neither are you. Keep an eye out, wherever you go. Trouble comes in all shapes and sizes."

"Thanks."

Jaylind stumbled on, leaving the activity of the cell behind, tracing the path the cell came in by. Making her way slowly, up service corridors, up ladders and rusty, barely-functioning lifts, she slowly ascended to Core. The light grew brighter the higher she went; the air was cleaner and less filled with dust. The words Kleder spoke to her stayed with her, softening her anger.

It always seems better after I talk with him.

She turned a corner leading to an open platform—the most open area on the path leading between the cell and Core. Nemosini had remarked on the way down that it would be a perfect staging area for 'RECs if they were to ever assault the cell. Up ahead, Jay could see a crew installing some defensive weaponry, a contingency for such an occurrence. One of them raised his hand.

"Ho Jay!"

Damn.

Out of the twenty or so people, one stood and ran over. A large man, he was covered with dirt and grime, his clothes motley with badges of jobs done and done well. He beamed with a wide smile, gentle and kind.

"Hey tough one!" cried Themis, the Coss of cell twelve. "Where you goin'?"

"Around."

"What do you mean 'around?'" he demanded. "You know it's more dangerous the farther away from the cell you go. Besides, there's still a lot that needs to be done. You know that."

Jay looked at him with angry eyes, her arms crossed over her small, budding chest, tossing what little hair she had back over her shoulders. Themis casually returned her angry gaze. He put his hands on his belt, squaring up, looking as the battalion leader he was.

"Come on, tough one, what's wrong?"

Jay's scowl deepened to eyes of hate.

"You don't wanna to speak to me?" he asked, putting his hand on Jay's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" she spat, recoiling in disgust.

"Dammit girl, what's wrong?"

"Don't touch me! You can touch my mom, but don't touch me!"

Themis sighed. "Jay, I know—"

"You know what it's doing to my dad?" she demanded, shedding a few angry tears. "My real dad? Just because you kill babies with my mother, you two think you're above it all, better than everyone else. That you can go around and fuck anyone—"

"Watch your mouth—"

"—anyone you feel like!" she yelled, attracting some attention from the others. "In my dad's house, in his bed! I've seen you wait until he leaves, until he goes out and tries to help people, you fucking murderer! Shit you damn fuck!"

"Jaylind!" His voice bellowed, like he was giving battle orders. "I will not tolerate words like that from you."

"Or what? What'll you do?" More tears ran down her face. "Kill me? Cut off my head, and stomp it into dust, and wash the blood off your boots? Cut off my father's head? Go away, and leave my mother alone!"

Jay ran fast, heedless of Themis' cries, heading higher and higher to Core. She calmed down, and made the rest of the journey thinking on her hatred of Themis, and the rest of her people.

I wish . . . I wish I could just leave! Leave them all behind, even my dad. I hate them. Themis thinks he is so good, so perfect fighting, but he's no better. No better than anyone. I'll bet my mother wouldn't even cry if I died. She'd just sigh, and be glad I was gone. The daughter who wouldn't follow in her footsteps.

Jaylind never liked to fight, or play with the guns that were an ever present fixture in the cell. Unknown to Nemosini, she saw one of their terrorist broadcasts, when she was barely seven cas old. They always had an AV unit—a small device that translated a minute portion of the cast-net into video and audio for those without implants, mostly children. Even now, Minnlis watched it constantly. Jay remembered seeing her mother, Themis and a few others on it, standing over ten men—CRODAM officers—who participated in a coordinated attack on one of their cells. The men were kneeling, their hands behind their backs, sobbing uncontrollably.

They were strong men too, she thought, recalling the memory. Anyone could see they weren't the regular fools CRODAM has. They looked like they could fight, and there they were, on their knees, begging for their lives.

The Iganinagi forced them to say their names, their positions in CRODAM. Nemosini was there, and she read aloud the crimes they were accused of.

"These men have betrayed our people! They ruthlessly cut down the liberators who sought to free our people from the TELREC overseers. There can be no pity for men such as these, no compassion! No mercy for collaborators of any kind. The Novan people must be awakened, and see how we are being pitted against each other."

Each of the Iganinagi stood behind a captive, and raised a long, waved sword.

"Such shall perish all enemies of the Novan people!"

Each grabbed the heads of the men kneeling, pulling their faces up. Jay could see the tears streaming down their faces, hear the sobbing. It was the first time she ever saw something like that, and though she couldn't turn away, she could feel that for every moment she watched, some part of her died.

"Aiella!"

They struck down with the sword, piercing their bodies just under the heart. They had done this many times before, and knew just where to strike. They kept holding the prisoner's heads high as they convulsed, dying slowly. Jay remembered crawling into a corner, rocking back and forth, crying for what seemed like an eternity. Her mother came back later that roa, all smiles, kissing Nulin, lifting Minnlis high in the air—she was just born a little while before. She reached over to give Jay a hug, and she returned it, but from that roa on she looked at her mother through different eyes.

Kleder was right. It takes something away from yourself, when you kill someone. I could never do that. Never. I could never be like my mother. I could never be with a man like my mother. How I hate them. Dirty and stupid, that's what they are. The boys in her class always tried their advances on her, realizing what a prize it would be to mate with the daughter of the Coss. They show off their muscles, show off their guns. They slap each other around, and think I would like that?

Soon she was on Core, standing on a street like so many others, filled with nameless faces absently walking to and fro, linked by an unseen web of pleasure and depravity. They walked as the living dead around her, their aspect closed and distant, their limbs navigated by their CMS systems. None of them noticed Jay; none even noticed that it was roa instead of night, warm instead of cold. The first time Jay saw Novans like this they frightened her, reminding her of some Iganinagi who were damaged mentally by the TELREC, becoming devoid of conscious thought, their bodies kept alive by a heart that pumped without a soul. They stumbled around, cared for by parents and spouses too sentimental to grant them a final mercy. They loomed large in Jay's nightmares, their soulless eyes staring at her, accusing her of some nameless deed she'd forgotten. Even now, she'd rather push her way through the crowds, rather than look in those dark and distant eyes.

I wonder what province I'm in now, she thought to herself, looking around. Ah well. There's always someplace nice, not too far away.

She began to wander around, looking at the sights, taking in the tall buildings, the ships sailing fast overhead, the angry thoughts of Themis and men fading away. It was a grey roa, when the buildings seemed to merge into the sky, and the people undulated through a murky skin. Jaylind took some back alleys, looking all around, wary of predators that lurked for the weak and stupid. Little did she know she had already caught one predator's attention.

That must be for illegal drugs. There were several people loitering around the front of an entrance, dazedly looking up into the sky with vacuous expressions tinged with a certain panic. She could tell they must have been on lleldin. She had been on Core several times, and had learned much in her travels. She couldn't understand why anyone would want to distance themselves from the cast-net. I can't get on, and all they want to do is get off. What a cruel world. She walked further down, seeing more curious storefronts. That must be a genehancement clinic. Then she turned a corner, leading to a tight alley, sloping down a little. Ahh, now that looks good.

She stopped in front of a store with two large windows on either side of an old, dirty grey door. In one, a naked man was seated, pleasuring himself, his eyes shut, his mind linked into the cast-net. On the other side, in front of Jay, an old woman did the same thing, her breasts flaccid, her skin clammy and wrinkled. Jay was at once disgusted, and excited; she couldn't take her eyes off the woman as she ran her hand between her legs, back and forth, slipping in for a moment, then out, going along her thighs. The woman moaned, then cupped one of her breasts softly and opened her eyes. Jay became self-conscious and went back in front of the man, as she felt it was more expected for her to do. He looked stupid to her, playing with that part of his body, moaning and gyrating.

Jay had tried to be with some boys in her cell, most within the past cas. Though homosexuality was accepted, even encouraged in Novan society, the Iganinagi were much more focused on the act of procreation, and the denial of excess pleasure. In extreme cases homosexuals were banished—exiled to the general Novan population, their memories wiped of anything about the Iganinagi. Jay realized she was different a few cas ago, felt urges building within her that boys could not satisfy. They seemed clumsy and stupid to her, interested in showing off their muscles, acting tough. Maybe it was because of her mother, but she had no need to be with someone tough. Sex with them was a painful, selfish affair, with all the attention focused on them. She saw how they treated the girls she knew. They grunted and groaned, fucking somewhere dark, going through motions like a senseless beast. They expected to be pleased—their egos, as well as the rest of them, stroked and admired. She felt the most excitement being around a few of her female classmates—the close talking, the intimate conversations. But she never acted on it, for though she hated her mother, she could not bring that kind of disgrace on her family. The man behind the window opened his eyes, smiling at her as he came on his hands.

"That's disgusting."

The voice startled Jay, and she almost fell over her heels. She turned, and a young girl was standing next to her. About the same age, she was a little shorter than Jay, thin, with a tight, sheer shirt and thick orange pants. She moved closer to the window, looking at the naked man turn towards her and smile.

"Can you believe that?"

"Uhh . . . what?" asked Jaylind, unsure of what to do.

"Don't you see him doing that?"

She turned, but the man looked the same.

"What do you mean?"

The girl looked at Jay quickly. "You don't have an implant, do you?"

Jay turned crimson with embarrassment. She knew one roa this would come up, and struggled to remember her pre-planned excuses.

"Well, no, I mean, something went wrong with it, and it's being fixed. How did you know?"

"No one with an implant just looks into a window like that," said the girl with a wry smile. "And no one as old as you speaks as well as you do unless they've never had an implant. Do you have a low MPR?"

Jay heard somewhere about that. "Yeah."

The girl nodded, and shrugged her shoulders. She had a way about her that kept Jay's attention—at once disinterested, yet interested at the same time. She was nothing like most of the girls back in the cell. They were very boyish, using her mother as a role model—challenging the boys at everything, lifting weights, endless competitions in weaponry and physical prowess. She reminded her of Sullise, with a little more muscle, and much more mystery.

"My name's Anies."

"My name's Jay."

Anies reached out her hand, and Jay took it, looking in her eyes as they shook hands. She seemed soft to Jay, yet direct, in an unchallenging way. Anies walked over in front of the woman, who noticed her, and started performing for her.

"Mmm . . . I like that."

Jay looked at Anies, transfixed by her beauty, and her directness. She stood next to Anies, watching the old woman perform.

"She's kinda gross," said Anies, "but she knows what to do with her hands."

Jay looked down, and saw the old woman move her fingers in and out, dancing for a while around the opening, around her thighs. For a moment her age didn't exist, and she became aroused just watching her movements. Anies stood close to her, the bare skin of her arm touching Jay's. Never before had she felt desire so raw, felt excitement so sweet. Anies smiled.

"You are so sweet! But your thoughts are too open."

Jay remembered, and closed off her mind.

"No, no, don't do that," said Anies gently. "I like to nest what you are thinking."

She turned to face Jay, their bodies moving closer. Jay felt so hot, so nervous, hoping the moment would never end.

"Why were you looking at that man?"

"I don't know," shrugged Jay. "I thought I should."

Anies laughed. "He's so big! And so stupid."

Jay looked back at the man, sprawled out on the chair, his arms the size of her legs.

"I know," Jay said pausing, thinking for a moment. "Where I come from, some things aren't allowed."

"What are you, Rell?"

"No."

Anies took Jay's hand. "I like . . . softness."

"So do I."

Anies waited a moment, her lips coming closer to Jay's, then her face lighting up in a wide smile.

"Have you ever been on the cast-net?" she asked quickly, the words tumbling out.

"No."

Anies was positively jumping in place, her happiness conquering Jay's depression. She looked as if she might burst, and Jay chuckled silently watching her.

"Do you want to?"

"How?" asked Jay, catching some of her excitement.

"Come on!"

Anies ran quick, practically yanking Jay behind her. Jay had trouble keeping up with her, as her eyes were distracted by all the unfamiliar sights. They wove in-between the people on the streets, bumping into some, but no one seemed to care as they were too engrossed in the cast-net. As they ran, Anies' short skirt fell down some, revealing the lower part of her back, that sweet, smooth spot that gradually turns into a fleshy divide. Her mind became consumed with lust, and Anies' flirtatious eyes stoked the flames higher in her mind than ever before. So despite her training as the daughter of a Coss of the Iganinagi, Jay's eyes glossed over the landmarks that would have led her home, just as her mind glossed over the blaring sirens warning her of a trap.

Eventually after what seemed an eternity to Jay, Anies stopped, let go her hand, and ran down stairs to a shop. Jay slowly descended and ventured inside, scanning the room carefully to try to get her bearings. It was dark, but not seedy. The floor was swept and clean, the chairs, though worn, shined in a dim light that spoke of 'mitters old and worn. Anies looked over to a man behind a counter, Jay seeing she must have cast something to him. Of thin build but with a small belly, his eyes never met Anies', they kept looking into space. Behind him was a large glass-enclosed cabinet, with hundreds of small devices in them. He gave her one of those small plastic and metal devices, and Anies took Jay's hand, motioning her to sit at some chairs nearby.

"Come and sit."

Jay looked around, and saw a few other people in chairs nearby. They smelled, even to her, a child of the Iganinagi, who had little water available for bathing, and no CMS system that would control her odor.

"You don't smell, at least not bad, so don't worry." Anies said softly, seeming to sense Jay's thoughts. "Now sit back."

Jay looked over at the people again, each with a similar implant on. A few of them sat upright, their eyes closed. But others were slouched back in their chairs, their heads rolling back and forth, spittle and mucus dripping from their mouths and nose.

"Those are apathets, Jay. Addicts to the cast-net. Too much of a good thing does that to a person. Hopefully, you won't do that to me." She leaned in and laughed, making Jay forget about everything else. "I don't think I could afford lleldin, to make me forget about you." She smiled a sweet smile that Jay wanted to kiss again and again. Anies got on her knees on the chair, beside Jay, and leaned in with the device.

"Just put this on. It goes behind your ears, like this, and over your head."

Jay felt her hands on her head, lifting her hair, cradling the device over her ears. She could smell Anies; smell the sweetness of her body. Anies leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek.

"There!"

"Now what?"

"Just relax," said Anies, as she knelt beside her. "Sit back. I have a few friends I do this for. Don't worry. It won't hurt."

Jay sat back, so nervous she could barely stop shaking, for a til distracted by thinking on how many other friends Anies had. Then her thoughts turned to where she was—in a store foreign and unknown. She knew she shouldn't have been this far away on Core, knew she lost track of where they had run, and doubted she could get back there alone. She didn't know this girl, no matter how attractive she was, no matter how arousing she was. Her mother probably would have killed her if she knew. And that is when she began to relax.

Damn her.

She sat back, and in moments, the world around her dimmed.

^Calm down.^

Anies' cast soothed her mind, taking away her anxiety. In tils, an image appeared in front of her.

^Hello Jay.^

It was Anies, dressed in a flowing, white dress. A sun hung behind her, and as she looked down, the ground was a verdant green, tall blades of grass covering her feet. A breeze flowed over Jay's skin, as she could hear the noise of creatures, light and sweet, in the background. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, the most beautiful experience she ever had. She stood for a moment in this garden, among things she knew to be trees, feeling a sense of peace and clam she never felt before. She looked down at herself, and saw she was naked, but it didn't seem to matter to her. She felt no shame, no embarrassment, even as she turned, and noticed Anies standing beside her. She was nude also, a beautiful sight to behold, her white dress laying as a pool around her feet. She had seen men naked, but it was a rare time when she saw another girl in the nude. To see her standing like that before her was glorious for Jay to behold. She felt that it was as it should be, what she knew casting would be like.

^I like you.^

^I like you, too.^

Jay pressed close, and kissed her, finally doing what she had longed to do for most of her life—kiss another girl. The kiss to Jay was like none she had ever felt. It was so full of passion, so wrought with lust, she could scarce control herself. She could feel every delicious texture of Anies' lips; every curve of her warm body, lithe and firm, as she began to hold her close. What Jay felt before, those first sensations in the real world of her closeness, and her smell, paled to this euphoria. Jay grew hungry for Anies, and she gave Jay ample sustenance. Jay ate at her, licking her small breasts, kissing her neck, her hands, tasting the sweetness of her skin. Anies moaned as Jay massaged her breasts, as their legs intertwined and they ground into each other, their bodies lifting off the ground. Anies' kisses were like raindrops that fell all over her skin, never in one place exactly the same way. They were as nourishment to Jay's soul, as the little essence she left behind was drawn into her, to become a part of her. Jay wished she wouldn't stop, merely grow thicker as the storm, to dominate her body, and reign over her thoughts. But as a passing summer shower her devotions dried and faded into the wind, leaving brightness, hope, and love.

"What?"

Jay opened her eyes, and she was back in the store, the light low and faint. Anies still knelt beside her, smiling a sinful, knowing smile.

"You liked that?"

It took Jay a few moments to acclimate to her surroundings. It seemed like she was heavier now, that breathing was more difficult. There was a sluggishness all around her, and she felt so very alone. Jay couldn't believe she didn't notice all those things when she was on the cast-net, couldn't believe how close her thoughts were to Anies'. It was as if for a few moments they were one, experiencing each other's sensations, as well as their own. Never before had Jay felt that close to someone, felt so open, yet safe.

"Oh yes," said Jay eagerly as she awkwardly got to her feet, a little unsure of her balance. "I should be getting back."

"I'll lead you back where I found you."

They walked back quickly, Jay quiet for most of the time, a little anxious to get back to the cell. Jay wanted to roll over in her mind those images, that experience, before it began to fade. Anies held Jay's hand, guiding her quickly through the streets. After a while, they came back to the entrance to the service tunnel, the beginning of Jay's journey back below. She had never felt sadder in her life, looking down that dark, cold passageway.

"Will I see you again?"

Jay couldn't believe Anies said those words.

"I'd like that."

"Tomorrow?"

Jay thought on her mother, and father, and what they were planning to do tomorrow.

"Yes."

Anies smiled, and kissed her on the lips, soft and warm, Jay reveling in the bold statement of her affection. It kindled more memories of her short time on the cast-net, of how much more she wanted to do. Jay watched Anies walk away, thoughts of lust and passion taking root in her mind, in her soul, binding her and blinding her.

Chapter 6

The transformation of Core from one of ecological diversity to technological dominance was a slow one. As the population began to exponentially increase, several experiments were carried out concerning the feasibility of establishing cities underwater. None of these proved successful, as the cities could never be large enough to conquer the feeling of isolation they engendered. So, after several planet-wide votes in the third millennium PD, it was finally decided to drain the oceans, to construct massive metal reservoirs to hold the world's water supply. Over the next thousand cas the ocean bed was stabilized and eventually became Foundation. Over it was constructed the new space needed for population growth.

The reservoirs eventually proved inadequate as a sole water supply for the planet. As void-travel grew in sophistication, moons of other planets were drilled into, and their ice brought back to Novan. At the time of the Ascension is was widely known in the hierarchy of the Leviathan that the supplies of ice from neighboring moons were nearing total exhaustion, in effect condemning the Novan race to death.

Many of Ellore's friends had perished since Ksilte's death. The TELREC were merciless in hunting down all his known acquaintances, all his allies in the Leviathan, each and every one of his surviving family members, as well as those of every member of SC-1. She saw their images plastered on the cast-net—criminals against the future of Novan. Every crime was placed in that context; from the smallest petty theft, to murder and rape, it was all a crime against the glorious future of Novan, and a disappointment to the Cuhli-pra, and Ksilte's allies were lumped in with them. Friends she had known all her life—devout, caring and generous—were characterized as malcontents bent on anarchy. Ellore could barely stomach seeing those images, but she forced herself to remember them, fueling her lust for vengeance. She knew she was lucky not to be included with them, as the TELREC would have eliminated her if she stayed any longer in her home. And her son.

They were executed. That is more to the truth.

She looked on Dobrin often, as he became the sole reason for her strength, granting her body and mind the ability to work through the night organizing, learning, building. She wished he could have gotten a normal childhood with laughter and free of worry or pain. Sometimes she would find him curled up on his bed, sobbing. She knew all the pain he went through, and regretted not even being able to schedule time for him with a colvition counselor. He needs to work through those memories, if he is to survive, and prosper. He always helped her though, without question. There were not many children where they resettled, but there were some, and he avoided them all. He couldn't go to play with them—run through the tunnels, hide, and take chances. He, more than most adults, knew that sometimes evil lay behind the next door, around the next corner. She could see the loneliness within him, but was powerless to change it.

There is just too much to do.

Ellore was unused to subterfuge and she needed it, as she took command of Ksilte's followers. While Ksilte was involved with SC-1, Ellore had the luxury of living a very public life. She never felt Ksilte's fear of who or what might be following her, who could be gleaning her casts. She felt it all now, the anxiety knotting her stomach so tightly no mind-control exercise could undo it.

She traveled now by trans, by RM, and even by foot, on a journey to see Theia. Having Dobrin back galvanized her, made her thirst for vengeance against the TELREC for what they did to her husband. She knew what she must face—the cramped quarters on Core in a rundown section near the great city of Ithmarin. The covert casts, her first use of a face-scrambler as she met with some of Ksilte's followers, it all was very new, and she knew, very necessary. The first time she stood in the back section of a fleshival, waiting for a contact, and being forced to watch the vulgarities that happened within, she knew her life would be different from then on. And through it all, so long as she could see the face of her son when she woke, and before she slept, she knew she could bear it all. Crawling through a sewage pipe, her mind wandered on Ksilte for a moment.

I hope you died quickly and well, dear husband. Our son is safe and healthy! I know you would be overjoyed, I wish you had lived to see his face again. He thinks on you, my love, so, so much. I glean his thoughts, of watching a virt-life of you giving a speech, or when you two would play those silly games. I know he hides the tears, and hopefully, he doesn't know I do too.

I hope I am doing what you would have wanted, I don't know, though, if I have the strength. I always admired you, for your involvement with such a dangerous organization like SC-1. I have a whole new appreciation for your courage and strength, trying to pick up where you left off. Did you ever stop thinking about who might be following you, who could be watching you? I can't eat anymore, I am always thinking about it. And you did so love my curves. I'm afraid I'm all skin and bones, now. But I feel so much stronger, with Dobrin safe and near.

She exited a sewer pipe, making her way down a long series of ladders and lifts, deep into the bowels of Foundation. She was thankful for the shoes she wore—it took her a while to stop wearing fashionable, impractical things, and dress herself for any contingency. While never a terribly vain person, she did miss dressing to flatter her body, dressing to draw Ksilte's eye.

I don't know about this Theia, Ksilte. She is so new, so untested. And yet, I must put the trust of all of your followers in her hands. We must merge with the Iganinagi, if we are to survive. I know nothing about secret meetings, or moving so I won't be followed. She and her Coss know all that. And yet, I so deplore her methods. I have seen what she did on the cast-net—the way the Iganinagi butcher men, women and even children. I don't know how you managed to deal with them for so long, for you are such a good man.

Were such a good man.

She stopped for a moment, steeling herself against the flood of sadness that washed over her.

I can't let them see me like this.

She gathered herself, wiping the tears from her face with grimy hands. She stood above a water treatment plant, populated with large canisters of fluid from which great clouds of steam billowed.

I suppose I should say goodbye to you, once and for all. I need to move forward, and I need to find the strength to do this alone. Casting to you always gave me strength. Now, it just seems to bring up the pain and despair. She grasped onto a railing, watching as the steam issued forth in great jets beneath her. I may not cast to you again, but I will always have you with me, dear husband.

Ellore took off a simple bracelet from around her wrist, fingering it for a moment. She tossed it out into the plumes of steam, wishing for a moment she were going with it.

Alright Ellore, time to get on with it.

She made the rest of the journey quickly, following the mental instructions cast to her by Rolost, one of Theia's Coss. She made it to a meeting point at a place lower in Foundation than she ever had been, and waited.

^Do you know what a sentinel is?^

Ellore turned, trying to find the source of the cast.

^No.^

A figure came out of the darkness behind her. A man, tall and thin, dressed in grey and black.

^It's a little child of a clone,^ he cast, through a face-scrambler. ^They can sit for roas, even troas at a time, waiting for one person to pass by. They cannot be detected by any known technology—their minds operate at such a low power, their bodily functions also, that they appear to be dead organic matter to any and all sensors. Micro-meta can be too easily disabled by a low-intensity electro-magnetic field, and are too expensive in comparison. They are the perfect surveillance equipment—almost undetectable, absolutely dependable, utterly disposable.^

^Why do you tell me this?^ asked Ellore.

^Because you should know, if you are to lead a resistance against the TELREC.^ He stood in front of her, his face-scrambler shimmering, then fading in front of his face, revealing a wrinkled yet youthful face, with many tiny scars around eyes that were almost black. ^I am Rolost.^

^It is . . . good to finally meet you,^ she cast haltingly, taken back by the intensity of his gaze. ^Are we far?^

^No,^ he cast. ^Follow me.^

Though it looked as if she was following him, in fact he was directing her body by overriding her CMS system. She could not see, could not hear, could not feel her limbs moving, as her feet moved over stone or through water. She felt as a discorporate soul, drawn along by some divinity.

^I'm sorry about this,^ he cast eventually, ^we can't be too careful.^

Eventually he released her body, after what seemed like an eternity of walking. She opened her eyes, and saw a long, wide tunnel before her, tightly packed with people and possessions. Small metal shanties lined two distinct paths, and people bustled back and forth, chatting and laughing, their voices mixed with cast thought. She could see scaffolding running the length of the tunnel, on which five or six guards patrolled. The smell of food greeted her nose, at first foul and rancid, then as she walked along, more and more appealing.

^What do I smell?^

^Real roasted meat and roots,^ he replied. ^We have always maintained a healthy pool of livestock. I can't tell you how disgusting it is to spend time on Core and eat what they call food. No matter how much my mind tries to fool me, I can still tell it is a pile of cold gelatin shaped into a tablet.^

^I felt that way too, after I had real food. To be honest, I never had it again, or I feared I could never get used again to the gelatin.^

Rolost smiled, helping her over some debris that hadn't yet been removed from the Cell. She was amazed at the politeness with which he conducted himself, and had a hard time reconciling it with the fact that he had beheaded women and children in his life.

^Is anyone here connected to the cast-net?^ asked Ellore. ^They all seem to be so alive, looking at each other, laughing.^

^Yes, all the adults are linked to the cast-net. We actually don't let children have an implant until they are eighteen. By then, they fully understand the dangers of colvition and the value of life as we know it. We still have a few who become addicted, who would rather have their minds erased and join the common Novan populous than stay with us. They are disowned by their families, their names never spoken of again.^

^It must be terrible to lose a child like that.^

Rolost stopped, as they came to the end of a path. In front of them a wide row of stairs led down to another level, which was bathed in intense white light from several spotlights overhead. He leaned against the railing,, a tired and pained expression on his face, and suddenly the many cas of violence and toil were apparent for Ellore to see.

^I lost my son like that. I thought I did everything I could, showed him everything. His mother was a beautiful, vibrant woman, who loved life. I may not have been around as much as I should have, but he knew I was protecting his way of life, and trying to liberate billions more from colvition. And yet, I saw it on his face after a few roas with the implant. There was no bringing him to dinner, no walking with him, or getting him to help in building new homes. All he did was lay on his bed, with that damn simple grin on his face.^ Rolost gritted his teeth for a moment. He turned to Ellore. ^I would've given my life, if only to free him from colvition! Just so he could appreciate the love from his mother. You have no idea how badly she took it. She would shake him with all her might, scream at him, and all he would do is go deeper on the cast-net.^ They moved down the stairs, slowly. ^One roa, I found him naked, shaking in a pool of his own vomit. I used all my mental strength to break him off the cast-net. For one brief moment, I saw his eyes, his real eyes. He almost smiled, then he punched me, and kicked me, screaming 'let me back on!' I threw him down, begging him to think of his family. He only pressed on my mind, trying to break my hold. Finally I relented, and had his mind erased. Aiella was still alive, and I remember she was there as we took him to Core, looking as broken as I felt inside.^

^Do you know where he is?^ asked Ellore.

They stopped before a small shanty at the base of the stairs, in front of which five guards held small emdec weapons. The lights were particularly intense, and Ellore had to hold up her arm to see Rolost clearly. She could also feel her mind probed and searched by the guards nearby.

^I'm sorry, they must do this.^

^I understand. What happened to your son?^

^Theia will see you,^ cast Rolost, backing away. ^She is under a great deal of stress, so give her some time. We have made many changes since the attack on our base, and the elimination of SC-1.^

Ellore held his arm. ^What happened?^ she earnestly asked, almost begging him to answer.

Rolost took some time to look her in the eyes.

^He is an apathet. I have never let him out of my mental sight—always have I known where he was. I have saved him several times, as gangs of kids would torment him and those like him. But he is gone.^

^One roa, Rolost,^ she cast squeezing his arm tightly with both hands, ^we will live in a world where no child will be tempted by such depravity, where they all will grow up, and inherit brilliant futures full of peace and promise.^

She came close and embraced him, as a brother. He held on tightly for a moment, letting her absorb some of the pain he carried with him for so long. He pushed away, a little ashamed of himself, but thankful and a little more at peace.

^I don't know how you'll get along with Theia, but if you ever need someone, I'll be there for you.^

She kissed him on his cheek, feeling his sincerity. ^And I for you, Rolost.^

She watched him walk back up the stairs, stooped over for a few moments, then saw his back straighten, his shoulders broaden. A few passed him, and he slapped them heartily on the back, laughing and casting to them.

^Come in Ellore.^

She entered, and found Theia seated at a table, alone, with a small meal in front of her. She was a scrawny looking woman to Ellore, one who had seen one too many fights and been through too much misery and pain. She wore only a thin short-sleeved short, and pants that had oily tears along their length, testimony to the work she was still doing to get the Cell up and running. Ellore's eyes were unconsciously drawn to her missing left breast, but she forced herself to ignore it.

^Please, sit,^ cast Theia as she motioned Ellore to a chair, with the same politeness Rolost demonstrated earlier.

For the first time Ellore noticed how strong Theia was. She had arms that looked more like stone, with deep chasms delineating her muscles. She had a violence about her, from the position in which she sat, to the anger that was always on her face, despite it wearing a smile. It was then that Ellore realized she was intimidated by her. Ellore was used to thinking of herself as having become some tough, disciplined woman, and now to see a warrior like Theia, put herself back into perspective.

I must seem like some fat Novan sloth to her. And yet, I must convince her I and my people are worth protecting.

^Won't you share some food with me?^ asked Theia graciously. ^I'm sure you're hungry, after all that traveling.^

^Yes, I am.^

They both sat and ate for a while, their minds null, glancing at each other from time to time. Finally, Theia pushed away her plate, and folded her hands on the table.

^I imagine it must have been difficult to decide to come here.^

^Yes,^ nodded Ellore, as she also pushed aside her plate. ^I . . . have never been supportive of your actions. I have turned away in disgust at what you have done on the cast-net.^

Theia mused for a moment on her words. ^And I'm sure you know I was apprehensive about meeting with you?^

^Yes. My husband was caught by the TELREC, and I'm sure you worry if they are following me.^

^Or even if you betrayed your husband,^ asked Theia pointedly. ^Where does that leave us?^

^As the leaders of two groups of people dedicated to the overthrow of the TELREC, both of which are hunted and concerned for their safety.^

^I feel as though I have everything to lose by absorbing your people, and you everything to gain.^

^You know the Iganinagi cannot continue with the same methods,^ countered Ellore, leaning forward, knowing now was the time to sell herself and her vision of the future. ^You will kill the wrong person, and the TELREC will commit all their resources to eradicating you. You have little support among the average Novan. As the Ascension draws nearer, we must focus on winning their minds, doing everything to awaken them to the TELREC threat. My people come from the scientific community, from the philosophical community. They have the expertise not only to defeat TELREC technology, but to also formulate a convincing strategy to win back the hearts and minds of our people.^

Theia again mused over her words, as she had nest similar concerns from some in the Iganinagi community.

^Ellore, I respected your husband. He had great power in the Leviathan, and sacrificed it all to be in SC-1. He gave his life in defense of the Novan people. At the same time, he was weak! Aiella knew it, Suld knew it. We are coming to a time when everything possible must be done to prevent the TELREC from assuming control of the Cuhli-pra. Everything! No matter how vile, no matter how dirty, it must be done.^

^And no matter how noble, no matter how honorable, it must be done also,^ countered Ellore unflinchingly. ^Wouldn't it be better if we attacked the problem with all available resources? I don't come here asking you to change your methods. I come here to add to your arsenal. Let us try to win the Novan hearts. Let us try to break them off of colvition, try to inspire them to revolution!^

Theia sat back, a little amused at Ellore's passion. ^Have you ever killed anyone?^

^No.^

^Do you know what revolution would bring?" asked Theia. ^The amount of death it would cause? The TELREC can kill thousands, if not millions within tils, and with little to no regret. Could you have the blood of so many on your hands?^

^I'd rather have the blood of millions, than the murdered souls of untold billions that would live under a world where the TELREC have the Cuhli-pra.^

Theia watched her with eyes of steel, still seemingly unconvinced.

Ellore sat back, giving Theia some time to think. ^Do you know of Uld?^

The expression on Theia's face told Ellore everything. ^He is responsible for so much misery on this world, it is impossible not to know him.^

^Well, he cast to Ksilte, shortly before he met with you and Suld, and he threatened my husband. I believe he knew of the impending raid on SC-1. I saw him again, in passing, as I rushed for a shuttle after word came of my husband's death. He was only a little ways away, and he seemed to be looking for me. In that short moment, that brief instant of meeting his eyes, I have never before felt such pure evil from someone, never has someone exuded such malice from simply standing still. Fortunately I got in a shuttle to meet you, or I am sure he would have done something..^ Ellore sighed. ^Uld always hated Ksilte. I never fully understood, until he stood before me. You say Ksilte was weak? Well, he battled Uld unflinchingly for the past ten cas, trying time and time again to break the hold Uld's fleshivals and corrupt companies have over our people. He gave his life, standing up to that evil, knowing of his ties to the TELREC.^

Theia nodded, in approval. ^I nest of the fights your husband had with Uld, and those like him. I apologize; he was a man of strong convictions, who did everything in his power to stand behind them.^

^Well, Uld will gain much power with my husband's death,^ continued Ellore, ^with the deaths of all those in SC-1. I have already nest reports that he is killing anyone who ever sided with Ksilte on any issue. The Leviathan will finally only be a backdrop for Uld and his kind, signaling the final descent of our people. I know it was Uld's people that sanctioned the club that tortured my Dobrin to exist. I cannot allow anymore children to be abused in the way my Dobrin was! I cannot allow anymore children to be corrupted like Rolost's was.^

^He told you of his son?^ asked Theia, a little surprised.

^Yes. I could feel the pain in his heart,^ replied Ellore, holding back a few tears. ^At least he cared about his son. How many other Novan parents have stood idly by, addicted the cast-net, as their children were devoured whole? That is why I am here, why I have reached out to all those who followed Ksilte, why I am ready for the hardship this life will bring. This is the time Theia, when all good men and women must stand and fight! Our world is in grave peril, darkness threatens to consume us whole. If we cannot stand together, untied, then what hope do our people have?^

Theia couldn't restrain a genuine smile. ^An idealist like your husband?^

^Yes!^ she cast with force, slamming her palm on the table. ^That will never change.^

Theia paused for a moment. ^I understand Listras brought your son back to you?^

^Yes. She was . . . damaged mentally. I don't know who did it, or why, but she was far gone.^

^She was one of the highest, most important TELREC agents!^ slammed Theia, suddenly becoming enraged. ^She met with the Monitors themselves. How could you let her go?^

^She brought my son back!^ slammed Ellore defensively, feeling caught off-guard. ^Whoever she was before, she was not anymore. She was actually there when my son was given an implant, the sole reason he found his way to me, rather than being captured by Uld or the TELREC. While we gave Dobrin a mental safeguard—in case he should receive an implant without us—I know she helped him through his initial experiences with the cast-net. Without Listras, my son could have become just another apathet, and I would be forever wounded in my soul as Rolost is now.^

Theia nodded, her casts sinking in. ^Do you know how close we came to saving your husband?^

^What do you mean?^ asked Ellore, leaning forward.

^A TELREC we captured after their invasion of our headquarters knew Rhonva was a double agent. It took time, but we finally broke him, finally got that information. We got it too late. A mere droa sooner, and SC-1 would have lived. Your husband would have lived.^ Theia paused for a moment, clenching her fists. ^Who knows what Listras would have given us?!^

^She knew nothing. Her mind was damaged, her psyche—^

^Ellore, you don't know anything about mental science!^ she slammed, hitting the table. ^If you ever come across that opportunity again, you will not pass it up. You will give that agent to us, no matter how many good things he or she does, no matter how much you think they have redeemed themselves.^ Theia thought for a moment. ^In fact, you should see what we do.^

Theia stood, while Ellore remained seated, growing anxious.

^You need to see this firsthand,^ cast Theia firmly. ^You need to understand the necessity of this. I wish we could treat all our prisoners with some degree of dignity and soumanity. Unfortunately, we never know if one fragment of information, even if dragged out in the worst way, could be the difference between life and death for so many.^

Ellore stood slowly, thinking it over. ^I understand. It is not my place to judge you.^

^Come.^

They moved quickly through the cell, the other Iganinagi examining Ellore closely.

^How are your relations with Suld, Theia?^

^What do you mean?^ she coyly responded, hurriedly turning her now crimson face away, making Ellore smile a little.

^Has he been funding your people adequately?^

^Sometimes supplies come in a timely manner, other times, it is a while before we see food again,^ absently cast Theia, trying to seem distracted. ^He has a massive company to run, and must maintain a great deal of discretion.^

^He is a very attractive man, Theia.^

Theia stopped, and turned. ^What do you mean?^

^I am a woman, just like you. If I were in your position, I might be smitten by Suld also. He is strong, and intelligent, quite powerful, and yet compassionate.^

^How do you know so much about him?^

^My husband told me of him. He was quite impressed.^

Theia sighed. ^He is a different person than I, one who lives a very different life. I don't . . . I don't know if I can get close to him. It's odd to be casting to you like this! I had forgotten what it was like to cast to another woman about personal matters. All the Coss used to be my closest friends, and now, I am their leader. I can't cast to them as I would before.^

^And I have no one,^ sighed Ellore. ^Uld has done a remarkable job of eliminating all who I held dear. All Ksilte's friends, their wives, everyone even remotely connected with SC-1, is gone.^

^Uld is an evil man,^ cast Theia folding her arms over her chest. ^Often I have wanted to strike at him, kill him and his friends. Aiella never sanctioned such a move. She always said, 'At least we know Uld. If we were to get rid of him, he could be replaced with someone far more vicious and depraved.' I think Aiella secretly wanted to kill him herself, and if not for her failing health, I think she would have. You need to be very careful of him, Ellore. You are the last symbol of Ksilte, and SC-1. I don't think he will leave you alone, for long.^

^Thank you for the warning. I think I should warn you of Suld.^

^Oh?^

^Many women have fallen victim to his charms, including the last leader of the Iganinagi, only to find no one can replace his company in his bed.^ They both laughed. ^I'd hate to see another Iganinagi woman smitten by the likes of him.^

^You don't like him?^ asked Theia, as they made their way slowly through the encampment.

^I don't know. Maybe it was seeing only his alter ego all these cas. He truly had us fooled. When Ksilte came back and told me Suld was allied with the Iganinagi against the TELREC, I refused to believe him. Even now, I wonder if he doesn't have some other reason for doing this.^

^You can rest easy on that, Ellore. He has supported us for many cas now.^

^What started him? What began the alliance.^

^The TELREC went too far with him,^ cast Theia grimly. ^They killed his wife.^

Eventually they made their way through the homes and storage containers to an open space on the opposite side of the Cell, shrouded in darkness. Only three lights illuminated a small square bunker, around which at least three guards patrolled. Ellore felt it become more difficult to focus, even to cast.

^Is this . . . your . . . command center?^ asked Ellore haltingly.

^Yes. We have a rotating cast-suppression field, one that randomly emits a powerful wave of disturbance. Every droa, we connect with its central server and log in, and only then does it recognize our minds and allow them to cast.^ She paused for a moment. ^There. I've taken responsibility for you, and logged you in.^

Ellore instantly felt the pressure abate. ^Thank you.^

^One can never be too careful. Even down here, with hundreds of soldiers on patrol, we reinforce areas important to us. Remember that when you form your organization's core. Either make it a transient one, never grounded, or impose many levels of redundant security.^

Ellore nodded as they entered the bunker, a building with walls made of thick metal and concrete. Ellore reeled as they entered as she could nest someone was in great pain.

^Who is that?^

^A filthy 'REC. She, like others, takes a long time to break.^

^Why do you want me to see this?^ asked Ellore anxiously, backing away.

^You need to remember this,^ cast Theia, grabbing her and dragging her back in, ^when the TELREC strike out at you, as they inevitably will. You may still disapprove of our methods, even after what they did to your son. After a while, when even more of who you care about die at their hands, when you feel yourself hunted every moment, you will be glad the Iganinagi are doing this, so you might survive another roa!^

^You are proud of your people, and what they have done?^

^Of course!^ cried Theia. ^How many terrorist groups have existed throughout Novan history, only to be crushed by the 'RECs? We have survived the longest, inflicted the most pain on them. My people are thoroughly loyal; never have we had a traitor, never has one Iganinagi betrayed another. We are unparalleled at physical combat, and almost equal to the TELREC at mental combat, all without the facilities the 'RECs enjoy. When I look at the faces of my people, all I see is burning hatred for the 'RECs, and absolute loyalty to me.^

^Theia, they are only souman. Even they can fail.^

^Never!^ She came close to Ellore. ^We are not the weak cattle that roam the twin globes. We know the importance of family, the binding ties of blood and flesh. We are all linked in some way, related in some way. To betray one, is to betray all. As you gather your people together, you will wish for such absolute loyalty.^

They entered the room to see a tall woman laying on her back, strapped to three poles than ran parallel under her body. One pole ran under her spine, the other two intersected at her elbows and knees. Rolost sat beside her, sweating, his eyes closed.

^She's a tough one, Theia. Her defenses are holding.^

Theia came next to the woman. ^Wake her up.^

The TELREC opened her eyes, soon focusing on Theia and Ellore.

^What's your name?!^ demanded Theia. The TELREC lay still, hate smouldering on her face. ^What's your name?!^ she slammed again, exerting more mental pressure on the TELREC.

^Dig in and find it for yourself,^ she cast, turning away, appearing bored and irritated.

^Her name's Ioux,^ cast Rolost. ^She is either a new recruit, or a commander in the seventh province.^

^How did you catch her?^ asked Ellore.

^Even the TELREC have some weaknesses. They purport to be above the depravity of Novan, but a few of them succumb to its allure.^ Theia bent down over Ioux, and ran her hand along her arm. ^This one likes pillows and softness, to be pampered and loved.^ She cast to Ellore some of the images they culled from Ioux's mind. They were of clouds and dreamlike creatures bathed in white and lace, dancing to a saccharin-sweet melody. For some reason, it seemed more appalling to her than if she had images of naked children in her mind.

^She's a TELREC?^

^Takes all kinds, Ellore. And yet, even though you saw those images, if she is in fact a province commander, she has been through many extreme situations. She would be impervious to physical pleasure, as that is what she gratifies herself with. She can also withstand torture, as she probably has endured it all.^

Ioux turned back to Theia. ^So just kill me.^

Theia grabbed a long, thick needle, and lifted up Ioux's hand.

^Oh my, sticking a needle up my fingernails!^ jested Ioux. ^How terribly original.^

^That is an ancient method of torture,^ cast Theia to Ellore. ^We try to couple physical torture with mental manipulation, somehow accenting the physical pain.^ Theia moved the needle over Ioux's stomach. ^Time is usually on our side. Once we have control over their CMS system, they can't suicide, or burn their mind.^ She stuck the needle slowly into Ioux's stomach, as blood oozed out. ^With her, I think filth should be her undoing. Over the next few roas, we will sicken her, as I am now, with this infected needle, injecting her with the waste of our people. She will convulse in pain, vomiting blood and excrement, as we shut down her bowels. We won't wipe her face, won't clean her clothes.^

Ioux saw Ellore's face cloud with disgust. ^Don't like this, do you?^ she cast, as the needle went deeper into her. ^I thought you Iganinagi were made of sterner stuff.^

^Theia, stop,^ cast Ellore, shaking her head.

^Ellore, this is my place, and my methods!.^

^No! Didn't you think about her fetish? She likes those things for a reason. It points to something in her childhood.^

Theia stopped, and pulled out the needle. ^What do you mean?^

^She misses her childhood—something in it means something to her.^

^What, you too squeamish to finish this?^ anxiously cast Ioux. ^Finish it; this is too much prattle.^

^She's hiding something,^ cast Rolost. ^I can feel the barriers going up over a different section of her mind. Help me, Theia.^

They both focused on her mind, pushing and probing at where it was weakest. Eventually, Rolost gained access. As they probed, Ellore could sense all the energy going into protecting that one spot. She then attacked Ioux's mind, where Rolost was attacking before, pushing hard with all her mental strength in one concentrated burst. She then grabbed the needle from Theia, and jabbed it into Ioux's thumbnail.

^Ellore!^ cried Theia.

Ioux couldn't protect herself any longer, and Ellore gleaned a parcel of a thought.

^Apya?^

^What?^ asked Theia.

^No!^ screamed Ioux, pulling with all her might to strike Ellore. She mentally lashed out at her, and in an instant Ellore fell to the ground. Rolost subdued Ioux as Theia knelt down to help her.

^Are you alright?^

^Yes,^ she cast slowly, rubbing her head and getting back on her feet. ^I should have anticipated that!^

^You did quite well,^ cast Theia with obvious approval. ^I didn't expect that of you.^

^I may not be able to do what you do on a daily basis, but I understand its need.^ Ellore focused on Ioux. ^Never again will another mother's little boy be subjected to the misery your people inflicted on mine.^

Theia led her outside, with Rolost following behind.

^Who is Apya?^

^I couldn't get any more. I got the sense that he was a traitor, a TELREC spy.^

^Any physical or mental features to go with the name?^ asked Rolost.

^They are there, but it will take an extreme amount of torture to get it out of her.^

^We have no one named Apya that is Iganinagi,^ cast Rolost.

^I knew of an Apya,^ cast Ellore. ^He was in SC-1. I thought he was killed with the rest.^

^Perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps he assisted Rhonva in bringing down SC-1. You did that very well, Ellore. Makes me think you've had some experience in that.^

^No Novan grows up pure, Theia,^ cast Ellore. ^Not even I, though I tried mightily for my son to grow up untainted.^

^You liked torture?^

Ellore walked null for a while, thinking over of a part of her she wished she could've forgotten. ^Yes. I don't know why, but when I was twelve, I was drawn to those parts of the cast-net like a moth to flame. I lived that life for almost a dozen cas, until I grew sick of it and who I'd become. I didn't want to come in there with you, because I knew what I'd find. I am always afraid a part of me will remember the pleasure I derived from torture, and I will succumb to its allure, once again.^

^So the incident with your son?^

^Was like a bad flashback, a reminder of misdeeds,^ cast Ellore, thinking on his troubles. ^I never stooped to torturing children—any abuse of children was, and always is abhorrent to me. But I understood the draw of the spectacle, knew what Listras felt. It still sickens me to think on it.^

^Well, I don't know who Apya is. Hopefully, that name will mean something to one of us in the future. Tell me, did SC-1 ever befriend a man named Ilgin?^

^Not to my knowledge. Of course, Ksilte wasn't the leader. There may have been paths others were pursuing that he was not aware of. Why?^

^Ilgin is a very intelligent man,^ cast Theia, ^with a large group of followers who are highly trained. Aiella became aware of him, and I have been trying to build a bridge between our peoples. I recently learned it was because of something we did in the past that he will not ally himself with us.^

^What happened?^

Theia motioned to Rolost, who took his leave of them.

^Apparently we killed his son,^ continued Theia. ^I have researched the incident, and it happened after we learned Ilgin had done some work for the TELREC, specifically, for Mal. We had names of other non-TELREC scientists that were doing intermittent work for them. We decided to punish them, to let them know it was inexcusable to aid the TELREC in any way. We captured the children of all those men and women, almost eighty in all.^ Theia paused. ^You know, I look back on it now, and I am almost ashamed of what we did. I never think twice Ellore, for doubt and debate gives the enemy all the time it needs to kill.^

^You killed them?^

^We didn't just kill them. We slaughtered them, one by one, like animals, feeding their ground-up remains to the next victim. Ilgin's son was one of the last. You have no idea . . . how terrified he was, how utterly sick he was. After he ate, we . . . It was the only time we ever debated not killing someone, the only time we questioned our actions.^

^But you did it.^

^Yes we did, and we put the whole thing on the cast-net for all to nest.^ Theia hardened her face, crossing her arms. ^Who knows what secrets Ilgin gave to Mal? Who knows how many Novans will pay the price for his, and the other scientists' complicity? It was rare, after then, that anyone non-TELREC helped them, did any work for them for quite a while.^

Ellore thought for a long while on what Theia cast to her. ^Uld would have been so proud,^ she cast with venom.

Ellore had never seen a person's face turn to abject hatred in so short a time. She almost backed away from Theia, yet somehow, found the strength to hold her ground.

^You have no idea who Uld is!^ slammed Theia.

^And you have no idea who I am! You debate with yourself as to whether you should feel regret for such an action? War should never be brought to the innocents, never! There are many other things you could have done. Cast me, why did you leave those scientists alive?^

^I don't need to explain myself to you!^

^You left them alive so you could use them later,^ cast Ellore, standing up to her. ^You know never to destroy a source of information. You were too cowardly to kill them. You were only strong enough to abduct children, only strong enough to kill children! How are you any better than Listras? At least she has repented of her past. I warn you Theia, one roa, your past will consume you with a vengeance. One roa, and despite all that you've done, I sincerely hope it doesn't happen, but one roa, you will understand all that your victims went through. You will understand hopelessness and despair, understand facing an enemy that doesn't even think of you as a sentient being. I pity you, Theia, for when that roa comes, I am sure it will break you. And you, leader of the Iganinagi, will be left with only pathetic memories like that as your only source of comfort.^

Theia backed away, feeling hurt.

She has an ugliness inside her, that has never fully gone away, thought Theia. I think she could be even more pitiless and merciless than the best of us.

^I thought you weren't here to judge?^ asked Theia.

^I'm not. But if we are to be allies in this fight, we should know what is in our minds, never withhold opinions simply for the sake of politics.^

Theia nodded somberly. ^Well, if ever you come across Ilgin, try to cast with him, reason with him. He is a talented mental scientist that would be very useful in our fight against the TELREC.^

Ellore absently tried to finger the bracelet that once was on her hand.

^What is it?^

^I . . . I think the road ahead will be a tough one.^ Ellore looked down at her wrist. ^I feel as though I've broken with a past that really will give me support in the future.^

Theia pulled something out of her pocket. ^Were you looking for this?^

Ellore clutched it, turning the bracelet over in her hands.

^How? How did you know?^

^We watch everyone that comes near our headquarters,^ cast Theia, smoothing Ellore's back with her hands. ^You never know if the object someone is throwing away could actually be thousands of micro-meta, programmed to disable a computer system. Or maybe it's just a symbol of a past that is best remembered, not forgotten.^

Ellore slipped it on, feeling great comfort from its surface. ^I'm sorry about what I cast.^

^No, don't be. I understand what Suld saw in Ksilte, for I see the same in you. You are a person of convictions. They may be high and noble ones, convictions that I fear may be the death of you and those who follow you. But if they actually can be upheld, if you and your kind actually survive, I know these globes will have more than a chance of hope for a decent future. I know I can trust you, for even in the face of death you will not shrink or fail, as your husband didn't when he took his secrets to Holis with him. I have always felt honor came with fighting and death, with the ability to strike down a foe without pause. I now see honor comes with facing a foe, merely armed with words, and being able to suffer death for the right to cast them.^

^I thank you for your praise,^ cast Ellore. ^There are times I don't think I'm quite up for this, this life of being a revolutionary.^

^Of course you are. It took great courage to come here, to take these first steps!^

^You all are so very strong and determined,^ cast Ellore, taking another look around the Cell. ^I have never done anything like this, not even my husband did these things.^

^And yet you must. This is the time when you must face the future, and do everything in your power to change it. For the sake of your husband, for your son, this is something you must do. I remember one of my Coss, Nemosini, doubted herself when Aiella promoted her to Coss. It was then she conducted her first torture session, killed her first on the cast-net. Blood was on her hands, and she turned to me, and I could see what she was thinking by looking at her face. I took her aside, and made this promise; that I would never desert her, that in times of trouble, I would be there, would always be one she could count on, one who wouldn't judge her. I make that same promise to you, Ellore. You are right—we need you, and your kind.^ She clasped her hand. ^Together, we shall forge a union between our peoples, one that will shake the TELREC to their foundations!^

Ellore laughed. ^You need to make speeches like that on the cast-net. You'd convert many more people.^

^I am a woman of action, not of cast or compromise. I will leave that to you.^

They spoke of logistics concerning the incorporation of Ksilte's followers for several droas back at Theia's home, and eventually Theia accompanied Ellore out of the camp, back up the long tunnels and ladders leading to Foundation. As Ellore was about to leave Theia, she paused for a moment to look back along the path they came.

^You still have doubts?^ asked Theia.

^I just hope I am doing right by Ksilte. These were his people—^

^And they are yours now. Ksilte is dead, and SC-1 with him.^ Theia reached out, and held Ellore's wrist, grasping the bracelet that hung there. ^I'm sorry; he may be dead in body, yet never in spirit. Let that spirit guide you, as you make his people your own. Let the love from your son always guide your actions. Ksilte was a religious man, was he not?^

^Yes. We both went to Iggaraouts after we first met, purging the depravity of Novan from our hearts and minds.^

^Make sure you use that as the foundation to unify your people. The Iganinagi have no such faith, and I believe we are the poorer for it. This world will need something to believe in, if we succeed.^

^First, they need to believe in themselves,^ cast Ellore. ^And that will be a monumental undertaking.^

^I don't know about you, but I'm up to the task.^

^As am I.^

They embraced, Ellore knowing she was leaving a friend behind, one she knew she could count on. As she left, Theia cast to her one last thought.

^Remember Ellore, watch out for Uld. You must live your life completely differently from now on. You and your son won't enjoy the life of security you knew before. The sooner you get used to that, the sooner you can tackle the problems ahead.^

^Thank you Theia.^

As Theia watched Ellore walk off, she thought to herself of her own trials that waited just ahead.

Life as a politician, as a negotiator? Is this what Aiella's true strength was, as she aged, and lost the capacity to fight? I have always scorned those whose lives consisted of words cast prettily and convincingly and yet, I feel I may have ensured the survival of my people, forging an alliance with her. Is this how Aiella felt, when she first secured an alliance with Suld, and OLMAC? Theia turned back to look on the encampment of her people. The future will call on my people to change in ways they never thought possible. If I can do it, I know they can.

Chapter 7

Virt-life: the standard to record live events. Not only was the event captured in the same detail that was captured by the souman senses including the sight, the taste in the air, the feeling on one's skin and body, the sounds, but also the mental image of not only the recorder, but the recorded, so long as the recorded party had an implant. There was even technology that could scan the mental impressions made by the object being recorded. What was made was a near-perfect duplication of the event itself, giving the viewer the feeling of being right there.

^Oh Uld, this is the best time ever!^

Uld was dancing with three women with his shirt hanging outside his pants, shuffling his pale, thin body back and forth as Kurd cast those words to him, stumbling through the thicket of gyrating bodies. In their minds, a hundred different songs shuffled back and forth, as they played with each other on the cast-net. Uld was uncharacteristically carefree—his boots were off, abandoned beneath a pile of clothes. Sweat glistened on his body, and a perpetual toothy grin was plastered to his face.

^Well, Kurd my friend, I deserve it!^

It was on the tallest spire on Topside that a massive celebration roared through the night. Uld invited three hundred of his associates—some Leviathan politicians, some from the clubs he helped oversee, others from CRODAM, a few TELREC, and many, many performers to a suite that had a view of the stars. Through all his life, Uld operated in the lower levels of Core and Foundation, doing back-alley deals, getting pleasured in places a few steps below the pavement, all in darkness and hushed tones. Now, with the death of Ksilte, SC-1, and all those who stood against him in the Leviathan, he wanted to declare his victory to Holis itself, finally bask in the light of its radiance.

^Someone get that damn kid back on the stage!^

Around the perimeter of the hall, performers gyrated and danced. Some were ancient, withered specimens, some were buxom, healthy women and muscular men, others were adolescents, stolen off the streets, chained and forced to perform for food and clothing. Two guards grabbed the child Uld cast about; a young girl who writhed and struggled against them, kicking their legs with all her might, aiming for that soft spot she learned, too early on, that men had. They were ready for her and in moments she was back on the stage, people all around laughing at her. Kurd walked over to her, grabbed her face, and pulled her face down to his.

"You better dance sweet and hot, little girl. Or I'll go kill your parents. You hear!"

Kurd hated to speak, but this girl was too young for an implant. She scowled at him, and started to slowly dance again.

"Spread those legs, sweet thing." Kurd thought of all he would do to her later on, after the party broke up. He looked over to Herdl, who was sitting in front of two young boys that danced wildly for him. He shook his head, thinking what was in store for those boys later—sex, then death, parts of them eaten by that powerful representative of the Leviathan.

Sick bastard.

Over on a sofa sat Suld and Aeolle. Suld had just arrived, keeping up the pretense of his depraved attitude. Aeolle was happy to see him, as she felt very out of place. The party started off well enough, with Uld making speech after speech, thanking his faithful friends, casting of the future under his leadership, rattling off new appointments he forced Iant Cou, the majority leader, to make. But it quickly degenerated, leaving her sick and nauseous.

^Where have you been, Suld?^ she asked, wrapping her arm around his, drawing some comfort. ^You know I miss you if you're gone too long.^

^Business.^ Suld scanned the room, making mental note of all present. There were some he didn't expect to see, enjoying themselves, and others he expected to see that were not there. He nest that Uld had executed many people in the past few roas, eliminating those that he even slightly suspected might threaten him. It was nest that the TELREC did his dirty work.

^Why aren't you dancing with everyone?^ asked Aeolle. ^I know dozens of women who would love to do things to you. And men too. Or is it you really like being with me?^

Suld knew he wouldn't be able to take this for too long. What appeared in front paled to the things being done on the cast-net. He longed to return to Gan-Elldon, and take a very long shower.

^I'm just tired. A long roa. ^

Aeolle drew close to his face, as if they were lovers, then cast softly and privately. ^You don't have to lie to me. You don't want to be here, any more than I do.^

^What do you mean?^ he asked, in shock. ^I couldn't wait to help Uld celebrate! Later I'll join the fun.^

^I'm a woman, not a little girl,^ rebuked Aeolle. ^I've been around all kinds of men. Rich, powerful, smart, stupid, crazy, boring, faithful and depraved. I know men. I may not know women, but I know men. I know you, Suld. You put on a good act, they all believe you. Only I know what kind of man you are. Maybe that's why I stay around you so much.^

Suld sighed. ^How long?^

^Long enough.^ She crossed her legs and leaned back, letting out a long sigh, the age seeming to appear on her face in an instant. ^You and Ksilte. My, how I miss him.^

Suld nodded, his lips drawn tight, feeling he was at a disadvantage.

^I confess, I've needed to cesct with you for a while,^ cast Aeolle privately. ^I know you probably respected Ksilte, believed in his causes. You are an honorable man. That's why . . . you know, my life has always been based around men. I've changed myself countless times to please the man I was with at the time. If he wanted a strong woman, I was that. If he wanted a little girl he could boss around, and smack, well, I was that too, just to get the attention. All my life I've drifted from fantasy to fantasy, a chameleon, blending in wherever I've been. Yet through it all, I've felt something solid, beneath it all. When I wake up, and the man of the night is still sleeping, snoring in bed, I get up and go to the mirror. Sometimes I see that woman, buried beneath it all, serious and forgiving. I've tried to bury her, indulge myself even more in the labyrinth of the cast-net, but when Ksilte lost his son, I don't know. I can take a lot of things, but this stuff done with children, I just, well . . . they are innocent. They haven't even had time to find out who they are, what they want to be.^

^We are on Novan. There is nothing for them to be.^

^I know, I know. Just the cast-net. But they can still be someone, have their own values. Can't they?^

Suld looked at her deeply, seeing things for the first time he couldn't believe he didn't see before.

^You were one of those children, weren't you?^

Aeolle leaned forward and turned away, clasping her hands together tightly, gritting her teeth.

^Yes,^ she grudgingly admitted. ^I had to dance like that, for men and women, naked. I had to do things, things I didn't even understand, just to please other people! I had to hide myself, hide who I was, from those people, only imagining what they were doing with me on the cast-net, what was done with the countless virt-lives made of me. How I hated them! But I grew to understand they were the only way I would be able to make it in these globes, by satisfying them, making myself necessary for them.^

Aeolle looked up into his eyes, the first man she ever told about her youth, and saw only stern, unforgiving judgment.

^I know you don't like who I am, but did you grow up like that?^ she demanded, visibly hurt. ^Did you have to face every new roa with not hope, but despair, with misery? Face parents who sold you to that hell, who would watch from the audience, and negotiate who would have you every night?^

Suld cursed himself for his quick judgment.

^There is a filth on me that will never wash away,^ she cast wiping away a few tears. ^When I sleep at night, alone, I am curled into so tight a ball, trying to hide myself from prying hands and peering minds. I crave vindication, for someone to come out, and yell at the top of their lungs; 'what you went through was wrong! The people who did it should be punished!'^

She sat back in the cushions, breathing heavy, letting the tears stream down her face. Suld brought her close to him, his arm over her shoulders.

^I'm sorry, Aeolle. Truly, I am. No, I have never had to experience that. Maybe that's why I have more respect now for men like Ksilte. I grew up far away from Novan, far away from their addiction to the cast-net, their negation of their selves. I grew up with parents who told me I could do anything, learn anything. Parents who loved and cherished me, and were there for me. I think myself brave sometimes but Ksilte, and Novans like him, are truly the brave ones. Those who can face the temptation and resist it, turn away from it, even after tasting it, they are the miracle of our culture. I curse the roa his life faded from my view.^

Suld held her hand, rubbing his thumb over her fingers, smiling gently to her.

^You are so . . . kind, Suld. So kind. I need to tell you something. You may not like me, after this.^

^Go ahead.^

Aeolle wiped the tears from her face, and regained her composure slowly, sitting up to face Suld.

^I was there when Ksilte died. Well, not when he actually died, but I visited him with Uld, when the TELREC had captured him. My heart died that roa, to see him in such pain, on the floor. Uld was very mean to him, gloating over his defeat, showing him a virt-life of his son in a . . . fleshival.^

Suld had to concentrate hard to restrain himself, to restrain his thoughts. There were too many here who delighted in gleaning errant casts, blackmailing those with too open a mind. He kept a forced smile on his face, snuggling close to Aeolle.

^His son is alive?^

^I believe so. Uld only got the virt-life—he had no need, or desire, to see if he was still alive. Suld, Ksilte pleaded to me! He begged me remember this other side, the real Aeolle. He cast that I could. He touched me, and that's why I'm casting to you.^ She took a deep breath. ^Uld wants Ellore. He will do anything in his power to find her, and make her his. He wants this final piece of vengeance against Ksilte, and those like him. You wouldn't believe how he thinks about it. It is all he thinks about. He may have tortured and killed his enemies, but he has been saving himself for her. After this party, after things have settled down, he will hunt her, until he has her. He already tried, and almost got to her as she was fleeing her home after Ksilte died.^ She drew herself up, facing him with a resolution he had never seen before. ^I just couldn't live with myself, if I didn't tell someone. Someone who might be able to stop him.^

Aeolle glanced over, and saw Uld approaching them. Suld was still holding her hand, so she reached over and kissed him. Uld plopped his sweaty body down on the sofa next to her.

^Can anyone join in?^ asked Uld, leering at the two of them. She kept on kissing him while she cast.

^Can't you see we're having a tender moment?^

Uld, very high on several sorts of mental stimulants, slouched next to her.

^I didn't know my parties brought that out of people! Suld, you know, I always felt you were like a brother to me.^ He faced forward, as if Suld were standing in front of him. ^I mean, we agree on everything! We always agree on everything. Suld, Uld, Uld and Suld, our names just go together, don't you think? But we never do anything together. Why is that?^

^You always seem too busy,^ replied Suld.

^You know, you're right. I was too busy before, fighting that damned Ksilte.^ He spat on the floor. ^That's what his name always made me want to do. Spit a real big one! Ha! What a man that Ksilte was, and I do mean was! Once those 'RECs got through with him, I'll bet there was nothing left. They looked hungry.^

Uld grew thoughtful for a moment, thinking on Gilc and Errece, the two TELREC with Denged. Denged was invited to the festivities, for after all, Uld appreciated that he eliminated Ksilte. But he was very glad when Denged refused, as he couldn't imagine the three of them here.

^They had to be the meanest 'RECs I've ever seen! But that was then . . .^ Uld woke out of his thoughtfulness. ^And it wasn't me. You never seemed to have a problem with those stinkin' 'RECs, did you Suld?^

^No.^

^Nope. I always see you put 'em in their place,^ chuckled Uld. ^They come in, all big and puffed out, and one word from you, and they go all soft and cuddly. But only with you. I may get what I want from them, but I gotta ask 'em, real nice. See they like that. They know they're the boss with me. Not with you. I'll bet they hate being nice to you, doing things just to please you. I'll bet they'd like to have something on you.^

Suld stopped kissing Aeolle, and leaned over to face Uld.

^What did you cast?^

Uld looked at Suld with eyes of malice, dancing with a black hate, and Suld looked back with eyes of death, full of an absolute confidence in himself. But Uld had many drugs in his system and stimulants working on his CMS system and he turned away, knowing he was at a disadvantage, not up at the moment for a confrontation of that magnitude.

^I have other things to do. Other women to find.^ Uld smiled. ^Then maybe you and me will get together, Suld.^

^Maybe.^

^Tell me Uld,^ cast Aeolle, trying to distract him. ^Why do you tolerate Kurd? He has all that power, in his hold over Herdl. He, through Herdl, could threaten any of your plans.^

^Yeah, I suppose.^ Uld looked over at Kurd, who was still dancing with some women, smiling and shaking his hands in the air. ^I don't know.^ His mind went cloudy for a moment. ^For some reason, I have never been interested in causing him pain. Besides, he always does what I ask, even making Herdl do my bidding. No, he has always been with me, loyal and faithful. And with Ksilte and SC-1 gone, and people like him under my thrall, the Leviathan belongs to me.^

Uld sprung to his feet, throwing his hands in the air.

^I rule these damn globes!^

Cheers went up all around, as he made his way back into the throng of people.

^You know he means it,^ cast Aeolle. ^You like a challenge, and so does he. Right now, you are the most powerful Novan, the only one who can challenge the TELREC. He may have Ellore on his mind, but afterwards, it will turn to you.^

Suld nodded. ^Thank you for telling me of his plans. I owe Ksilte a lot, if not for me, then for all the good he and his colleagues did on Novan. Their deaths must not be in vain. And good people, good women, like yourself,^ she blushed a deep red, ^and Ellore, must never be allowed to fall into the hands of those like Uld. I have been content to sit on the side, playing this game of pretense, ignoring the atrocities going on around me, so I could hold onto those things I judge to be precious. But the time has come to risk all, just to do what's right.^ He looked around the room, at the naked children, the mutilated bodies hung high for sport, the countless men and women who planned to do much worse after the party, in private. ^Never again will I tolerate being at a place like this.^

Suld reached over, and kissed her again.

^Thank you.^

Aeolle watched him leave, sailing through the people like they were not even there. They seemed to float away in front of him, so powerful he was. She got up and went over to Herdl, who was still watching the young boys dance. She watched him for a few moments, her mind coming to a decision.

^Herdl! You sexy thing.^

He sheepishly turned around.

^I have been looking for you all night,^ she cast with sultry eyes. ^You look like you need me.^

^I do?^ he asked, glancing furtively to see if it was some trick.

^Yes.^ She grabbed his arm, and pulled him away with her. ^I want to spend all night nesting you moan my name.^

The dead, sickly thing that was Herdl's soul moaned, while he looked back longingly at the boys, then followed Aeolle out the door. Uld watched as they left, something about the scene leaving a bad taste that he wouldn't soon forget.

Chapter 8

In the many millennia of development of the meta-sentients, much debate was created concerning their ability to experience emotion. Some turned out to be easier than others. Emotions like desire, envy, happiness, satisfaction, even love and hate fit into their programming. But scientists involved in their evolution discovered an eternal arrogance was inherent in their programming. This made two emotions, regret and remorse, impossible to elicit from the meta. The meta believed their actions were perfect; that decisions they made were not subject to debate or questioning. Hence, past actions could never be regretted, and since they believed they never made mistakes, they could not feel regret. Scientists came to believe the first meta to be able to experience those emotions would be the first that would have the potential for true development, the first that might have true sentience.

A series of sleepless nights soon merged into many roas for Jaylind, roas filled with memories of time spent with Anies. Four roas they spent together, connecting to the cast-net, Jay having simulated sex with Anies and dozens of other women and girls. Jay hid her joy well when she returned home—going straight to her room, not talking with anyone, keeping her disinterested, disillusioned attitude. But during the nights she rolled over Anies' image in her mind—her touch, her caress, at least those things that Anies did in her mind. Jay didn't care that the experiences weren't real, that they only happened in her mind. The sensations she felt there were so much more powerful than those she felt in real life. One kiss triggered so much in her whole body, one touch brought back feelings of virginal bliss each and every time. Jay knew she was becoming Anies' slave; she would do anything to experience those things again, and would do anything not to give them up. As she opened the exit from the service tunnels leading onto Core, for a moment she felt the depth of her servitude, of her utter dependence on what only Anies could provide. Anies waited across the street for her, her eyes scanning the passersby, betraying a more analytical, calculating side to her persona. Then she noticed Jay, and the naughty sweet smile crept on her face, her body slouched a little heightening the small curves she had. Jay walked slowly to her, prolonging her anticipation for pleasure, for excitement.

"You look tired."

"I'm not, just some things to do," replied Jay, trying to appear disinterested. "You know."

"Yeah."

She moved closer to Jay, her hands cupping Jay's rear, bringing her body next to Jay.

"What things do you have to do? No one works on Novan."

Jaylind thought for a moment at all the toil she had done over the past few roas, mostly hauling scrap metal out of the cell, loading it into carriers. She may have been tired, but no one there could get out of work. Especially not the daughter of the Coss.

"Where I'm from, I work. Maybe that's why I'm here."

Anies looked down for a moment, then up into Jay's eyes, grinning wide as if she just swallowed prey. She almost bounced in Jay's arms.

"I have a surprise."

"What?"

"I found someone who can give you an implant!"

"What?!" The scream escaped before Jay knew any better, but only a few turned to look at her. Anies cupped her mouth, and laughed.

"Yeah, my father knows some people, and I cast to one of them. You could get it tomorrow."

Jay's mind raced with joy. To no longer live that pathetic life with the Iganinagi! To always feel good, to get anything I want, whenever I want it.

"Where?"

"Close. About ten mroas away," said Anies, pointing off in the distance.

Jay took her close, as close as she could, and kissed her, Jay's tongue swimming in hers. She hadn't been this happy in too long a time.

"Could you do me a favor?" asked Anies coyly, her hand trailing along Jay's arm.

"What? Anything?"

"I want to see where you live."

Fear stole quickly into Jay's heart, an emptiness filling her soul.

"I . . . I don't know."

Anies looked up at her with innocent, wide eyes, pushing her sex closer to Jay's.

"Why?"

Jay thought on that question. Why not? Anies was about to give her a whole new life, make Jay happy beyond her dreams.

"Why do you want to see it?" asked Jay, as Anies smiled, and ground against her.

"I like you. I want to know where you come from. Hopefully, you won't forget about me, once you get your own implant. We could still have a lot of fun together."

The debate in her mind was a purely academic one, as Jay would have agreed to anything she wanted, to get an implant of her own. She was still her slave, and in the depths of her mind, knew she would do far worse things for Anies, just to experience the cast-net again.

"It's a little far off," warned Jay, thinking about trying to avoid all the guards with Anies in tow. "And it will be rough going."

"I'll do it for you, Jay."

Jay smiled, not fully appreciating those words, what they would have meant coming from a lover at her age. Her mind was only on the implant, and the short roas she needed to wait before getting it.

"Come on."

The journey was a battle with herself, one part of Jay wanting to run there as quickly as possible, and get the deed done, the other part of her realizing this was Anies' first time down this path, through tunnels and service-ways dark and dangerous. Jay forced herself to go slowly, helping Anies through the rubble, over the chasms and divides. They stopped often, with Anies complaining she hadn't done this much walking and climbing in her life. She looked around a lot, and Jay had little to offer in terms of comment, as she was only just getting used to the terrain. To Jay's surprise, it was easy getting past the guards Nemosini had stationed around the perimeter of the cell, as complacency had begun to set in, and a part of Jay was even a little worried that if she could make it by them so easily, who or what else could also.

Eventually, they arrived at the outskirts of the cell. Jay could see the people building, talking, laughing. A fire was going in the center of the cell—Kleder had gotten his grill going, and the cell was in for its first feast. She took Anies around the gathering, around the shanties, to her dwelling. Jay took her through the back door quickly, going into the small basement under the kitchen Jay always wanted to bring Sullise into.

"Well, we're here."

"Wow. So you are one of the Iganinagi," whispered Anies, looking at Jay with admiration.

"Yeah, I don't like 'em, though."

"Why?"

"Because they suffer!" cried Jay, pounding her fist against a wall. "They do everything the hard way. I . . . I never liked them! And I've seen what they do to people. I've seen them kill people who begged for mercy, men and women. I've seen them kill children, only five cas old. I think anyone that kills someone that young is the worst kind of thing, something that doesn't deserve to live."

"You know these globes are dangerous places. You'll understand that, once you're on the cast-net for a while."

"Then why didn't they give me an implant?" demanded Jay. "Why keep me in the dark, only seeing a few things on the AV unit? If they wanted me to understand what they did, then they should've let me see what they fight. As it is, I know nothing that could justify their actions."

Jay thought of her mother, sword raised, beheading a girl the same age as her sister, thinking somewhere, that little girl had a mother, and father, who were forced to watch their precious joy die.

"I don't know what I'd do if something like that happened to my sister."

Anies nestled close to Jay. "How sweet! I'll have to meet your sister, someroa. Wait . . . I hear something."

Up above, some footsteps could be heard coming into the kitchen. Jaylind heard some movement, as they paced around the kitchen. Anies could nest much more with her implant, as the two figures above were casting.

^Where's Jaylind?^

^Who knows. Out exploring again, I guess.^

"It's my mom," whispered Jay as quietly as she could, "and Themis, a Coss of a nearby cell."

Anies shrugged, feigning innocence, as she nulled her mind and focused on their cast.

^I wish she would stop,^ cast Nemosini. ^It's too dangerous around here. Too many places we haven't secured yet.^

^She's getting to be a young woman. She will have to face some dangers on her own, especially as your daughter.^

^I know, I know. Sometimes I think it was wrong to shelter her as much as we have from the evil of Novan. But we all know what the implant can do, the addiction that is so difficult to overcome. I'll never forget what happened to Rolost's son, and I couldn't go on living if it happened to Jay.^

^I think she doesn't understand why we are Iganinagi,^ cast Themis. ^And that is a dangerous thing.^

As Nemosini paused, Anies stood further up to nest their thoughts more clearly.

^Will you be ready for the meeting with Theia?^ asked Nemosini.

^Yes. I have the last cell settled. I still think it's dangerous for all of us to be in one physical place at the same time, even if it is in a plaza as big as Nelljin.^

^Yeah, but we need to rebuild the morale of our people. And we need to build ours, for a start. Theia is new, and knows she needs to interact with us personally.^

^Theia is a strong warrior, but I have doubts about her leadership,^ cast Themis. ^I only hope Aiella was right about her.^

^You know she's been an integral part of my life for a long time. I've seen her progress from a bragging grunt to a capable Coss. She's helped me in many ways, and I wouldn't be a Coss without her help. I know she'll be fine! Come on, Kleder has been pestering me about attending this first feast. We can't disappoint him.^

They left, much to the relief of Jaylind. Anies smiled at Jay, something unknown to Jay behind her eyes.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

Jay looked over at her, smiling in the darkness of the basement, pressed close against her body. For a few moments she forgot about her experience on the cast-net, forgot about the complexity of sensation it afforded, and instead was captured by the immediacy of the moment. Jay grabbed her and kissed her, wanting to take her now, in the dirt, in the dark, so close yet so far from everyone. Anies gently pushed her away.

"Come on. We better leave."

"Why?" asked Jay, not wanting to let Anies out of her embrace.

"I know your people. If they find me, they won't let me go," cast Anies, pushing Jay aside, making her way out of the basement. "Then you'll never get your implant."

Jay sighed, and then followed Anies, acknowledging the truth in her words. They hurried out of the cell, making their way back up to Core cautiously.

It was late when Jay finally got back home. She slipped in, going quietly to her room in the dark. She could hear her mother in the other room, fighting with Nulin. Jay sat down on her bed, a feeling of relief spreading over her for a moment.

"I saw you!"

She was startled by a loud whisper. It was Minnlis. Jay relaxed, and started to straighten her room.

"What do you mean?"

"You brought another girl here!" cried Minnlis as she stepped out of the closet. She was a small thing, but with great anger in her eyes. Panic spread over Jay's face.

"What do you know?" demanded Jay, with her hands on her hips.

"I saw," said Minnlis slowly. "I was down there."

"What were you doing down there?"

"I like to get away sometimes. It's loud where we are now. I take my Patty, and we sit in the dark, and dream of good things. Why did you bring her here?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Jay with a frown.

"I might."

Jay smiled at her. "You might understand, but it wouldn't be fair to you."

"Are you going to see her again, Jay?"

Jay thought about it.

I want to be with her! I want to spend every roa with her, laugh with her, explore the cast-net with her. But mom would never let me leave. Her own daughter, go into exile? She'd kill me first.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"You can't!" shouted Minnlis, as she stamped her little foot down. Minnlis had the spirit of her mother, and the soul of her father. She looked at Jay with angry eyes, and Jay looked back with a condescending smile.

"What are you going to do?" wryly demanded Jay.

"I'm going to tell. Mom!"

Panic, thick and strong, took control of Jay's arm and hand and before she knew it, Minnlis lay on the ground, stunned. She didn't realize how much she wanted this, how much she would do to get it. She stood for a moment, looking at her hand, then to Minnlis, silent and unmoving.

"No!"

Jay dropped to her knees, tears forming in her eyes.

"Wake up, wake up! Oh no, I'm so sorry. Please, wake up."

Jay grabbed her up by the shoulders, and started shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. She never felt such panic before, and barely knew what she was doing. It took a few tils before the sound of the snap registered in her mind, before Minnlis' limp head truly sunk in, before the tears flowing from her eyes turned to rivers, and a pain gripped her stomach and heart, merciless in its strength and depth.

In the shadows Jay carried her heavy burden, wrapped in a sheet. The feast was drawing to a close, and as she waited for a few people to pass by, she watched as others gathered around the open grill. They were laughing, talking, with little children running and playing. She saw men and women she knew since she was a child relaxing for the first time in a long time. They had borne the brunt of the work—building her mother's house first, then gradually filling the small town. Jay looked around, and though it was meek, though it was humble, those buildings gleamed with a worth nothing she ever saw before matched. She felt such guilt at her complaints, the distance she kept from those who cared for her. She set down her burden for a moment, and sobbed into her hands. Part of her wished Prodal, or Kleder, would come over, discover what she had done, and somehow make it alright. She desperately wished that, thinking for a moment that she would go over, and confess, and abase herself in front of them. But she couldn't stand the thought of their looks, of their disappointment. Her mother would be humiliated, but more, much more than that, her father would be broken. His daughter dead, and his little girl responsible?

It would kill him. I should just leave, and they can think we ran away, and dream that we are still alive.

She made her way to an incinerator recently set up. The door opened quickly, much too quickly. She wanted to struggle, to feel pain, something to take her mind off of this deed that needed to be done. The glow of the fire danced in front of Jay and she stood for a moment, thinking on Minnlis' face, her laugh, her little foot stamping up and down. Jay opened the blanket, revealing her beautiful face that was now quiet, and cold. She wanted to say something, but couldn't get out the words. She kissed Minnlis on her cheek, then held her close, with all her strength. She let out one sob, a moan of grief and despair. Then Jay hefted Minnlis' body in her arms, and dropped it down the chute. She slammed the door and ran off, trying not to think of what would happen to her, wishing she could be burning in there with her.

Chapter 9

Mal: short for Master Intellect. Mal never existed as one object, as an object one could point to and say 'this is Mal.' From the beginning, in 1100, when fourteen supercomputers were linked to store the results of chronicles and begin the process of predicting the Novan future, Mal was a web of linked computers. Mal became sentient in the cas 1559, developing the chaos theory that governed TELREC actions in the cas 1984. After Mal's first accurate prediction in the cas 2239 of the destruction of Celd-2 by the Novan-Rell settler war, the TELREC began to worship Mal as a Holis. Mal took over control of its maintenance and repair in 3844, after the Rell abandoned their meta on Novan. From that date on, Mal was completely self-sufficient, able to access all machinery on the planet at any time. Mal had no central processing station, even after the creation of Malhrer, whose facilities enabled Mal to grow exponentially in terms of intelligence and complexity of sentience, Mal never resided in one place at any one time, until its termination.

^Everything hurts.^

^Same here.^

^You think you've got pain? Try moving one of those anti-grav units, when the power's off!^

They all laughed. Nemosini, Themis and Theia were yet to arrive, but the other Coss didn't mind. It was one of the rare opportunities they had to sit together, and cesct about over common problems.

Theia had convened a meeting of all her Coss in Nelljin Plaza, hoping to strengthen her standing as leader, to build bridges and decide on their future. Aiella had done similar things in her reign, and as a result of which each of her Coss could and would die for her at a moment's notice. There they sat, nine of the leaders of the most successful terrorist organization in Novan's history, around a table in the middle of a gallery in one of the largest Plazas on Core. Children laughed and ran around them; the smell of food floated on the air, as hundreds of Novans sat and ate in the Plaza.

^Where are the lovebirds?^

Oenus smiled. ^I remember going to Nemosini's joining. She seemed so happy, then.^

^We all were different people, before we became Coss,^ cast Iperian as he shifted in his seat. ^It's hard to make it work with someone who first isn't a Coss, who isn't responsible for as much as we are, then secondly, with someone who isn't even a warrior.^

^But you have,^ cast Oenus. ^Most of us have, and it works out better for the cell, having partners who can deal with both aspects of Cell operation and defense.^

^I know, I know,^ cast Iperian. ^I'm just casting, it's not easy.^

^Nothing in life is. What do you think Theia will cast about?^

^Our next big plan, what else?^ Oebil leaned in. ^I think she's ready for something big.^

^What should it be?^ asked Rolost.

^Theia cast to me she was thinking of another mass kidnaping,^ cast Oenus, mentally sharing the plans. ^Possibly any TELREC we can get our hands on. Then gassing them.^

^Gassing? That's a very old way to die.^

Iperian nodded his head. ^Yes, and it would get some attention!^

^Certainly the attention of the TELREC,^ cast Iperian. ^They always push that much harder when one of their agents is killed.^

Nemosini and Themis approached the table.

^Well look, if it isn't the two lovebirds!^

^Be null, Rolost,^ cast Themis, mentally shoving him.

They both sat. ^No, he was right,^ cast Nemosini. ^But we have . . . decided to move on.^

^Nemosini would like to try to make things right with her husband.^ Themis sighed, as he smiled at her. ^She feels it would be best not only for her family, but for the community in her cell, as well.^

Oenus smiled at her, nodding his approval.

^Well, we were discussing our next mission. Possibly kidnapping and death by gassing. Maybe, we should take the first born of every TELREC on Novan? Now that would be a statement.^

^No, there are some who are balking at our continued usage of children for slaughter. Isn't that right, Nemosini?^

She looked down at the hard stares of her fellow Coss. ^Yes.^

^One might think you've lost your stomach for this,^ cast Iperian. ^We must hit them hard, twice as hard as they hit us!^

The other Coss nodded in agreement. Oenus turned to Themis.

^What do you think, Themis?^

Themis paused for a moment, crossing his legs in his chair.

^We are being perceived in an increasingly negative light by the very people we are trying to awaken. We integrated many members from Ksilte, and they represent mainstream Novans. Ellore tells us that we are perceived as another aspect of a degenerate Novan. Our continual distance from matters of religion, though it once helped to identify us with the people, is now driving a wedge between us and them. Should the TELREC fall, they could never see us rising to any sort of power in a new Novan.^

^What should we do, community service?^ cast Crius sarcastically. ^Maybe help apathets kick their habits, and terrorize fleshivals?^

^No,^ cast Themis, ^that would only contribute to order and stability for the TELREC. We need to somehow show Novans why they should abandon the cast-net, why they should engage again in intellectual pursuits, why they should explore the void. Ellore's people bring much to us, and I think we should capitalize on their strengths. I know my family has grown weary of the killings, of the beheadings and torture. Sometimes I think my very soul is wounded from what we do.^

^I know it has driven a wedge between me and my daughter,^ cast Nemosini. ^Between me, and my whole family! We need to do something that will rally our communities behind us, give them hope for the future.^

They all sat there, thinking on distinctly un-military options.

^So you are thinking community service?^

^I believe, we should try to take out the broadcast satellites again,^ cast Crius.

^You know how difficult that is!^ cried Rolost. ^They are the most heavily armed defensive platforms in existence! How many have died trying to accomplish that impossible goal?^

^You're coming at this from the wrong attitude,^ cast Crius. ^Suppose it was the only way to achieve victory, if it was the only option. How could we make it work?^

They all thought for a moment, going over options in their heads. Themis sensed something else, and expanded his awareness.

^Any of you notice anything different?^

^How so?^

^Take a moment,^ cast Themis carefully, ^to try to glean casts from those around us.^

They all focused on those seated around them. They looked to be ordinary Novans, some with children, women with men, the well dressed and the poor. While normally there would be a good deal of back and forth colvition chatter, the only thing that could be gleaned was that they all were watching incoming shows. They were communicating with no one. Oenus straightened, and began to fortify his mind.

^You're right. Something's wrong here. Where is Theia?^

^She cast to me that she would be late.^ Oenus started to rise, closing his mind, his face turning to stone, the tension spreading through the Coss. ^I hope she is alright.^

^I hope she hasn't betrayed us,^ cast Iperian.

Crius flexed his muscles, scanning the area. ^This isn't going to be easy.^

They all started to mentally prepare themselves for battle, and began to rise from their chairs. As they did, they noticed all eyes in the gallery were focused on them. All minds were focused on them. Though they could still move, they felt a pressure coming to bear on them, one that was impossible to resist. They grew sluggish, and as hard as they might try to make their muscles work, they couldn't. Nemosini glanced at Themis, who shook his head, and gritted his teeth. A mind cast to them.

^Greetings Iganinagi Coss! We have waited a long time to meet all of you at once. Thank you for indulging us. You have caused us great pain, and now, we are going to return the favor.^

The people all around them stood, the children among them moving off, summoned by those out of sight. They slowly advanced on the Coss, intensifying their mental hold. The Coss could feel their minds being tightly constricted, until it was too hard for them even to breathe.
Chapter 10

In 6275 the planet Rell entered a period of climactic change, as an Ice Age descended suddenly, wiping out thirty percent of the population, destroying many of the cities and villages. It was the catalyst for an increased era of hostilities between the Novan and Rell, as the Rell blamed the TELREC for the Ice Age. Novan scientists argued that many Rell religious ceremonies called for great bonfires, a precursor to the mental creation of the Boolin. Nevertheless, beginning in 7400, after the planet Rell had recovered from the 200 cas long Ice Age, skirmishes happened with increased frequency between the two peoples, incidents of sabotage grew exponentially, as both peoples existed in an atmosphere of increasingly incendiary propaganda.

Theia could feel her Coss vanish from her mental sight, as if a blanket were thrown over their minds. She was just on the outskirts of Nelljin Plaza, making her way through the throngs of people, one moment regretting her lateness, the next realizing her great fortune at being delayed.

No!

She used all her mental strength, trying to peer through the cast-suppression field in effect around part of that plaza, to no avail.

Who betrayed us? No one knew, besides the Coss, where we were meeting!

Then the thought entered her mind, making her sick to her stomach.

One of us must be a traitor.

She spent some moments searching her mind, going over conversation after conversation, body language, stray thoughts from casting, to see any signs, any clue she missed that any of her Coss may have been a traitor. She couldn't find any. She still walked casually, appearing as one in the masses around her, whose bodies pressed against her in their migration to morning destinations. And yet, surrounded by all those people, she had never felt so alone. Panic and fear gripped her tightly and mercilessly, then her instinct for self-preservation kicked in.

I need to warn the cells!

She almost cast to them, halting in an instant.

The TELREC must be monitoring casts in this area, just in case they missed anyone. It won't take them long to break my Coss, no matter how strong they are. No one can withstand combined TELREC mental power. I must get away, and quickly.

She turned to run, then could feel the hair on her neck stand up, her skin start to get clammy. She stood still, and mentally could feel the people behind her were disappearing, going down in the dozens, their minds going blank. She casually glanced behind her, peering over the heads of people mindlessly moving to the beat of the cast-net and saw four black TELREC hovercars high overhead.

They are hunting for me.

She broke into a run, heading for a nearby building, and could feel the pace of their mental wave accelerate. Some around her were starting to notice as hundreds of people began to fall to the ground. She couldn't make much headway fast, so thick was the crowd in front of her, oblivious to all except the cast-net. She pushed people aside, knocking them down, frantically trying to make some headway. Suddenly she could feel the wave overtake her, as all those around her slouched and soundlessly fell to the ground. Theia now felt the full force of the TELREC's power as it wiped out those in front of her, leaving her as the lone figure still standing. For a moment her mind and body felt extreme fatigue, begging her to close her eyes and drift away. Though she was well trained and was able to absorb it she stumbled for a moment, shaking her head violently, pinching herself to negate the desire to sleep. She could hear the engines of the hovercars shift in pitch, as the TELREC adjusted their course to intercept her.

^Stay where you are!^ slammed one of the TELREC.

She bolted, jumping and running over the carpet of bodies beneath her, her long, muscular legs finally free from the press of people. The TELREC began firing emdec cannons—blowing holes in the bodies and concrete beneath her, taking chunks out of buildings as she dove trying evade them. Through streets now thick with the unconscious and dead she ran, a normally quiet world now like an unburied tomb. She could mentally anticipate their fire and dodged the bolts of magnetic energy with grace, but those beneath her paid a heavy price. She could feel the people in the buildings above slowly gather at their windows, only to be turned back by a massive mental force one of the TELREC was directing at them.

One of them is extremely strong. I must be careful.

^Stay where you are!^ angrily slammed the TELREC again. ^There is no escape.^

I never go anywhere without an escape plan.

She darted into a building close by, knocking people out of her way, managing to get one cast out before the TELREC extended their cast-suppression field around her. The startled guards and civilians succumbed to the mental wave as she ran by, catching a brief glimpse of her form before sinking into a mental oblivion. She just made it past the foyer as emdec fire from the TELREC blew away the facade, sending glass and metal flying in their wake, the concussion wave sending her sprawling on the ground for a moment. Fire broke out at the entrance, its yellow leaves dancing around Theia, consuming all in their wake. Tasting blood in her mouth, she scrambled with hands and feet to get up and away, running around pillars and chairs, over debris and through doorway after doorway. Maintenance meta poured out of the walls, firing great streams of white liquid on the raging fire, the stench of their chemical choking Theia as she ran. The hovercars moved fast, boldly surging through the building, weaving high and low, engines roaring as they decelerated. Theia dove over desks, ran between support pillars the TELREC dared not fire on. She turned a corner, finally getting some distance from her pursuers, racing down a narrow corridor which spilled into another open space. Wiping the blood from her mouth, she dared hope for a moment as the light of the open room held the promise of a short rest and quick gasp for air. But as she entered, four figures dressed in CRODAM uniforms greeted her, tensed and ready for battle.

Damn.

She was able to take out two of them mentally in an instant, crushing their minds as if they were small insects, but the other two turned out to be TELREC in disguise. She engaged in battle with them, all three pulling out short knives as they tried to burrow into each other's minds. She could sense the four TELREC behind her had landed their hovercars and disembarked, racing quickly down the narrow corridor.

I have about two mroas before they're here as well.

She could already feel them exerting pressure on her mind. The two she was fighting were quite skilled, not only in mental combat, but in physical conflict. She was able to spill one with her feet, and slash deep along his thigh. Her blade was laced with virulent micrometa that rendered him motionless in tils. The other TELREC jumped high, and though missing with his blade, back handed her in the face, sending her stumbling backwards. In the split til she was stunned, he was able to gain a significant foothold in her mind. She now focused everything to stopping him, though she could feel the other four TELREC were coming around the corner.

Not much time . . .

He pressed the attack, slashing at her face, using his feet to try to spill her, battering her with his arms. Her reactions slowed as fatigue began to set in, much of her energy being used to deal with the mental attack. He parried forward with his knife, missing her chest–

finally!

–and as he did, she grabbed his arm, and sliced into his back. He started to fall, but grabbed her torso, bringing her down with him.

A trap!

She couldn't get up in time, so strong was his hold. Though her assailant began to go unconscious, he bought time for his four compatriots. They approached her slowly now, knives drawn, surrounding her. She managed to stand and face them, options flashing through her mind. She knew of a service entrance a few tils from where she was now, but it would be too far with these four in pursuit. And she knew it was only a matter of time before reinforcements joined them.

I am too valuable to be captured! My Coss must be avenged. I only hope my cast got through . . .

She knelt down, tensing her muscles, focusing her mind.

"Aiella!"

She screamed and sprung in the air, using every tactic she learned to trap, bait, and evade their mental attacks. She knew she was unparalleled in physical combat, as she had too many cas under her belt not to be. But these TELREC were young and quick, and soon she found herself mostly on the defensive, with the four TELREC coordinating their attacks as if all four blades were controlled by one mind. Their blows flew on her with a speed she rarely encountered, and only by pure instinct was she able to deflect them. The TELREC switched tactics often in the fight, two of them attacking her with strong body blows while the other two slashed at her limbs and mind. This went on for a while, the four of them constantly switching positions, trying and almost succeeding in throwing Theia off balance. Two times their blades reached their mark, once on Theia's arm, the other along her chest. Theia negated the pain, stopped the blood loss, but felt it imperative that she gain the upper hand.

That's what I need!

She reached in her pocket and in a lightning motion, activated a small device. The TELREC were momentarily stunned, as it was an extremely powerful localized cast-suppression field. It was all the time she needed. In tils, she faced two opponents instead of four, her blade slicing deep and true into two of them, their bodies slumping on the ground. The remaining TELREC soon nullified the device's effects, and pressed forward once again.

But it's just two of you now. And that's much more reasonable.

She fell down in an instant, falling hard on her back, drawing one of them in. She rolled quickly under the second, and as he jumped, she sliced in between his legs. He fell back in extreme pain, curled in a ball, going limp after a few moments. The other TELREC stood and nodded in approval.

^Very well done.^

She was panting hard, but recovered her composure, looking at him with eyes of hate.

^Just you and me now,^ cast Theia, readying her blade again.

For the first time, she noticed this TELREC was wearing a face scrambler. She could see the lines in the holo-face shimmer, for just a moment.

^Why are you hiding from me?^ she asked, coyly.

In a moment his disguise fell away, and she stumbled backwards, feeling fear for the first time in a long time. The scrambler revealed a dark-bronze face, older, but with a child-like innocence about it. He walked towards her.

^They call me . . . Denged.^

She knew his face. She had seen his power. Rumors were spreading fast of a TELREC agent of immense physical and mental strength, always accompanied by two female agents, who were vicious and cruel. They left none alive in their wake, and it was said they were on a mission to purge the Iganinagi and all other rebellious elements from the faces of the globes.

^You know me?^ his words were laced with condescension.

She hesitated for a moment, scanning for an escape route.

^Yes,^ she cast, trying to steady her nerves.

^You fear me?^

She paused again, conquering her fear, strengthening her resolve.

^No.^

He chuckled, then she felt a wave of fear spread over her. For a moment she was truly petrified, so strong was his mind. She squinted, trying to separate what her mind was telling her from what was actually there. She still had to concentrate not to fall to the ground and weep before him, beg him for mercy.

I am Iganinagi. I am Theia! I am stronger than this!

She mustered the strength to face him, sweat pouring off her face. She could mentally sense two agents, female agents, were heading towards them quickly. Denged focused his mind for a moment, nesting a cast.

^Good.^ ^Well Theia, we have begun assaulting all of your cells. In a matter of mroas, your people will belong only to the memory of time.^

^No!^ She desperately wished she could rip his face off with her bare hands, but knew he was much too strong for her.

^Your Coss were very . . . forthcoming. They were quite strong too. We really should have left one alive, as sort of a memento. The great Iganinagi; butchers of children, saviors of no one.^

She lunged at him, trying to catch him off-guard, but was thrown aside like a ragdoll, feeling things crack within her as she fell.

^You're supposed to be the leader of this annoyance, aren't you, Theia?^

Damn him!

Denged walked casually over to her. ^I wish I had known Aiella. I nest that she was worth something. Someone worth fighting.^

He pressed harder on her mind, her injuries making it tougher to deflect. Denged hefted his knife in his hand. Long and thin, it glittered in the light. Theia felt a signal, then laughed at Denged.

^Never gloat over your victims.^

He looked at her quizzically, then fell to his knees in pain. Four figures clothed in black emerged from behind pillars, two lifting Theia in their arms, two advancing on Denged, who was still on his knees.

Thank Holis I followed Aiella's advice and kept six Coss hidden. Through the pain of broken bones and shattered limbs, she screamed one last command before she passed out from the pain.

"Kill him!"

The two Coss raised their blades, but could not bring them down on Denged. They tried for a few moments, battling his great will. Suddenly Gilc and Errece appeared, seeming to materialize out of thin air, their blades drawn. The two Coss could barely see who it was before they were consumed in the frenzy of Gilc and Errece's blades. They easily defeated the two Coss, playing with their bodies as they died, drawing out their suffering. Theia could nest their cries as she was carried into the service tunnels, feeling them die in her mind. Denged cursed her as he recovered, and as he watched his Maenids do their work, he cast the images to Theia.

^This will be you one roa. That, I promise.^

She regained consciousness, and tried to reach out to her cells, but found none would respond.

We have lost so much this roa. I cannot even congratulate myself for keeping six cells hidden, for we have lost so much of our people. She was never much for community, but over the past few troas, she saw those were the threads that bound the Iganinagi. Her people were what kept them going for so long.

And now lost! The last six cells hold mostly warriors, with no families. We, as a people, have no future.

As they carried her broken body down to a cell hidden and safe, no pain her body felt could compare to the despair growing in her soul.

Chapter 11

The cas 7000 through 9500 marked the severe decline of the Novan race. The cast-net had matured, the wealth of programming available rose to perfect quality. At no other time in Iquitian history was there less scientific advancement, less writing, music, or art created. Universities closed by the thousands, leaving fewer than ten left across all the globes. It also marked the rise of the TELREC. Their rule was incontestable; their agents were the final and unquestioned representatives of law. Mal as a figure in the public consciousness faded to myth, as its symbolism became irrelevant. This period marked the height of covert missions carried out by the TELREC and Rell. The Rell began to focus more and more on the Cuhli-pra becoming a reality, and engineered plans to find out as much as they could about the supposed superbeing. The TELREC consolidated their resources on Malhrer as Mal deduced the final aspects of their nine millennia-long genetic project. Numerous large scale attempts at sabotage were tried and foiled by both sides; from the complete destruction of Rell, to several attempts at germ warfare against the TELREC. Few had any success, and even then it was very limited in scope.

Jaylind woke to the sound of screams. Fear gripped her for a moment, as she didn't immediately recall where she was. Her hands were cold, her back sore, and the smell of refuse was omnipresent. She crawled forward to a dim light ahead, out of an overturned metal barrel she collapsed in the night before. She hadn't made it far from the cell, as her grief sapped her strength.

What's going on?

She crouched down, scanning the landscape before her, seeing flashes of light in the distance. Nearby, the sound of boots resonated in the darkness, the swish of fabric as TELREC marched by. After they had passed, she crept slowly around, moving closer to the outskirts of his cell.

Have they already found out where we are?

Until that moment, she had forgotten what she had done the roa before. But the smell of smoke was a grim reminder, for the heat of the incinerator drew her gaze, and Jay felt the pain grip her very soul once again.

I'm so sorry, Minn.

On her knees, her hands submerged in some dark, thick fluid, she paused for a moment, shivering. Hunger was taking its inevitable toll, as she had not eaten well for the past few roas. She vomited several times through the night, retching in a dark hole nearby, trying to be quiet, wishing her heart would come up to and allow her to die. Her belly was so tight now; it seemed to be a knot that squeezed harder and harder. She could feel the pain in her chest, a cacophony of pain that seemed to focus in her breasts. Her neck was tense, and her body was soaked in a nervous sweat.

Who am I that I am alive? What luck is this, that because I slept in a barrel, because I murdered my sister, she paused, sobbing heavily, because I burned my sister, and was too cowardly to confess to it, that I live?!

Jay crept forward, beating back the tears, trying to focus on what was happening now. She saw some figures up ahead. Three men were on the ground, as another, dressed in brown and gold, stood over them. They stood proud, chests full and strong, their hands resting at their sides. They appeared as strong and permanent as columns, supporting an unknown weight, so proud they were. At their feet, the men on the ground clutched their heads, screaming in pain. They tried to reach the men in brown and gold, tried to stand, but soon they fell, their bodies motionless.

They have found us.

For a moment she wanted to run forward, sacrifice herself to the TELREC, and finally end her misery. Then she thought of her father, and mother.

Where are they!? They can't be . . .

Jay made her way slowly around the perimeter of the cell, masking her thoughts like her mother taught her. She made her way in and out of the shadows, a terror creeping upon her soul, anxious of the fate of her parents. To the entrance into the basement of her home she crawled, careful not to make a sound, when she felt something in the dark. She looked down and she saw a hand, pale and bloody. Attached to that hand was her father, his body dead, contorted in a final pain.

I can't . . . I can't cry out. I must make it inside.

She paused for a moment, against her better judgment, looking at his face, running her hand along his cheek, thinking of his laughter, of his voice. She couldn't stop herself—she bent down and held him in her arms, sobbing once more into his chest.

He was a man of peace, how could they kill him?

She heard footsteps coming close, and made herself turn away to the nearby entrance. She crawled inside and made her way down, silencing her mind once again, moving with stealth as she heard machines moving through the cell. Screams could be heard, pleadings for life from children too young to have an implant. Jay thought she could recognize some of those voices. She wept hot tears, backed up against a cold metal wall.

"What are you crying for?"

She almost jumped in the air, so shocked was she to hear another voice. Out of the darkness crept Anies, with eyes of steel, clad in a brown and gold uniform, tighter than the rest, without the flowing robes.

"Why are you here?" asked Jay, still petrified with fear.

"I'm one of them. A TELREC."

For a til the thought flashed in Jay's head, that she might have been the cause of this. But that would also have meant that she would be responsible. The thought was so black and vile, so hideous that she buried it deep, refusing to acknowledge it. Anger raced through her mind, bitterness of betrayal scorched her soul. Part of her felt safe being in her house, but Jay knew this was only an illusion.

"I thought you didn't like your people," spat Anies, with disgust in her voice.

"I don't."

"You mean you didn't. The last of them are dying now."

Jay turned, clenching her fists, the frustration building inside of her, begging to be released.

"Why are you killing all of them?!"shouted Jay at the top of her lungs, her voice drowned in more screams and heavy machinery. "What did the children do to you? What did my father do to you?!"

"Jay," said Anies softly, as she crept close, "quiet down. It's not my decision. You know of the atrocities your people have committed against the innocents of Novan, against the children of the TELREC. Many thousands of people would cry out that we are showing them too much mercy."

"My father was never involved in those things." Jay sobbed frantically, swallowing her own salty tears, the grief choking her throat. "He never, never wanted to kill."

"Did he do anything to stop them?" gently demanded Anies, as she tried to calm Jay. "Did he leave the cell, and take you with him, to protest their ways? Then he was complicit in their actions. Jay, I have strong feelings for you. You need to see beyond this and at the history of your people as a whole. They have caused much destruction, killed many women, men and children, and sabotaged many systems, causing untold amounts of damage. It's even thought your people caused the AG collapse, and that killed over fifteen million people! Jay, I'm sorry you must feel this pain, but your people brought it upon themselves."

Jay's jaw was clenched, her fists beating on her legs, the feeling of isolation sinking into her consciousness. She wanted to rip apart Anies, beat on her and take out every last ounce of pain within and cut her with it, break her with it. But Jay restrained her emotions, held her tongue, realizing that she was at the mercy of this girl.

"Come on," said Anies, "I need to rejoin the others. You can come with me."

Jay looked around her dark, empty house, knowing it would mean certain death if she stayed.

"Alright."

She led Jay out, other TELREC glancing at them, but paying them no attention. They made their way through columns of TELREC marching through the place she had come to know as home. Around the perimeter others were piling dead bodies, throwing them onto great mounds. Meta could be seen moving into the cell, spitting great plumes of fire on those heaps, wiping the Iganinagi from the face of the globes.

I must remember everything my mother taught me, thought Jay. I must become like her, strong and fearless, if I'm to survive this. I must survive this. Anies led her through a maze of equipment, bringing them towards the clearing near the center of the cell. As they traveled, Jay could see more small groups like she saw earlier—the TELREC, standing proud, mentally breaking and killing clusters of her people. As they died, the TELREC casually walked away, thinking little of their once powerful enemy. They don't even care, don't think about the lives they are taking. Jay stumbled several times, feeling faint and weak, but managed to press on, shoving aside Anies' help. Eventually, Kleder's grill could be seen a short distance ahead, and in front of it knelt Kleder and a few other Iganinagi, two TELREC standing arrogantly before them. Jay cringed inside, as feelings of anger and helplessness battled inside her. With all her strength, she suppressed them, looking on the scene with dispassionate eyes. I must hide my thoughts, if I'm to survive.

"What are they doing?"

"Waiting, Jay. You'll see."

Anies was huddled close to Jay, desiring not to be seen. Jay felt her warm body against hers, remembered for a brief moment the pleasure they had. She felt her own body betray her for a moment, stirring to faint feelings of arousal. She killed those feelings, cursing at herself, remembering all she knew who died and were dying this sad roa.

Who's that?

Beside Kleder could be seen the small figure of a girl kneeling, her head held upright, her eyes grim and determined.

It's . . . that can't be Sullise, but it is!

"You know her?" Anies could glean her thoughts.

Jay debated lying to her, but knew her mind was too easy to read. "Yes."

"She's a sweet little thing," said Anies with a leering grin. "Do you want her?"

Jay thought back to all the times she looked longingly at her lithe form, all the sweet moments she wanted to have with her. She was so delicate, so pure, something of nature mired in this pit of death and despair.

"Do you, Jay? All I need to do is cast a word, and she is your plaything."

What would she think of me? Jay thought low, deep down, hidden behind other surface thoughts. My plaything? She would curse me, and hate me, as I hate Anies. And could I go in front of Kleder, that man so sweet, who loved me as his own, and take her away?

"You know what she's thinking?" demanded Jay as she looked on Anies, disgusted with this power she had to read thoughts, to invade someone else's privacy, at such a sacred moment.

"She's thinking of your father. She's thinking about the bed she shared with—"

"No!"

"Be quiet!" With a sadistic grin Anies slapped Jay's face hard. "Your voice will be the death of you. You should know, before you take responsibility for her. She slept with your father, took him in her arms, between her legs, felt him come all over her again, and again."

Jay bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears.

"Do you want her," pressed Anies, "or should she die with the rest?"

Jay turned away, the anger and hatred building inside her.

She took my father! She would do that to me? She who was so perfect, so sweet, so . . .

Anies grabbed her shoulders, a malice on her face. "Tell me Jay, does she die with the rest?"

Jay broke down and cried in her arms, weeping hushed tears.

"Tell me Jay! Say it, or you die with her."

Jay glanced over again at Sullise, who was now focusing on Kleder, trying to draw strength from his resolve. He was saying something to her, Jay could imagine him saying, 'It'll all be over soon. Don't worry, and don't be afraid.'

"Say it!"

"She . . ."

"She dies with the rest?" asked Anies, a lunatic grin on her face.

"She . . . dies with the rest."

Anies laughed, kissing Jay's tear soaked lips, smoothing her hair out of her face, savoring this triumph. In an instant her expression changed, growing deadly serious.

"I can sense someone. Be very quiet."

The other TELREC stood straight, their cesct ending as sets of footsteps could be heard approaching. First two female agents came into view, Gilc and Errece. Then Denged strode forward, stopping just in front of Kleder, his long brown robe covering his massive form. Jay could feel his mental power, so strong it was she swayed under his influence, the control over her mind slipping, her strength and faith evaporating.

"Can you feel that?" asked Anies with awe. "I remember the first time I felt that. He is incredible!"

Jay recovered, moving slightly away, wiping away the tears, gaining some composure.

"Who is he?"

"That is Denged," pronounced Anies with pride. "He is the leader of the Maenids, the division of the TELREC that I, and others like me, belong to. It was he who spearheaded this assault, who made it his mission to eradicate your people."

"Why him? What does he have against us?"

Anies shrugged. "I don't know. I think the TELREC masters wanted the Iganinagi destroyed, of course. But it seems to be something personal to him. I've watched as he rallies his troops, and there is a fire in his eyes that one would only believe firsthand. I heard he was drawn away by something special, but he wanted to be here from the start, to watch your people die."

"Who are those with him?" asked Jay, moving slightly forward for a better view.

"They are Gilc and Errece," she said, watching as they walked around the prisoners with long, serrated blades drawn. "leaders of his Maenids."

"Maenids?"

"Denged only trusts women, Jay. All of his force is comprised of women, and those two are his leads. I am a Maenid. You could be, too."

Seeds of possibility bloomed in her mind, seeds of revenge.

I must hide my thoughts, no matter what happens, for they shall be avenged!

Jay saw Denged slap Kleder, then walk back, his terrible eyes centered still on him. Gilc and Errece stepped forward, their blades drawn. Jay could tell something was being cast between them, and wished she could hear his voice, one last time.

"Do you want to know what they are saying?"

"No," said Jay, shaking her head.

"You might not want to see this. I can sense he meant a lot to you."

"What do you care?" she spat at Anies. "He is just another murderer to you, another terrorist. No matter if he was like a father to me, my only friend. No matter if he—"

"Jay, enough. You shouldn't see this."

Anies reached over to turn Jay's head, but she pushed her hand away.

"No. I must."

Jay looked on, as Kleder looked in the eyes of Gilc and Errece without fear, proudly defiant. As their blades came down he yelled at the top of his lungs—

"Aiella!"

The blades flew back and forth in the air, tearing him apart, the sounds of flesh ripping and bones being broken filling the air alone. As Gilc and Errece worked, others in the cell echoed Kleder's word, screaming—

"Aiella!"

Denged looked around, a glimmer of respect on his face as he heard those defiant voices, watching Kleder and the others die without screaming, without fear. Sullise was saved for the last, as the bodies of the men lay around her, Gilc put a hand on her head, almost gently, and ran the blade through her chest. She fell noiselessly, not even a scream or whimper, her body falling as if gently laid down, her hair covering her face. Though Jay felt great sadness, the misery weighing on her with a force she couldn't believe, she also felt her heart fill with pride and respect, watching Kleder die as an honorable man, watching Sullise die without fear, without pleas for mercy. Gilc and Errece hacked into the bodies of the men for mroas afterwards, dancing over their bloody bones, shrieking like vultures over carrion as Denged stood impassively, his arms crossed, watching them work.

"Women, they kill with a single slice," said Anies, with obvious pride. "Men, they brutalize."

The ground was a carpet of red and pink in front of them, and Jay needed to finally turn away. They moved off, and Anies took Jay back to Core, past the ranks of TELREC that continued to file into the cell. Along the way Anies told her of the massive operation underway, that all cells of the Iganinagi were being eliminated. She held Jay's hand, and she let her, though Jay dearly wanted to rip it off and shove it down her throat.

After a while, and a few transports, as well as a stop at a facility where Jay finally got a cast implant she no longer wanted, they arrived at a suite that Anies shared with other Maenids. Jay collapsed on a bed unknown to her, in a room she had never seen before. Anies went in another room, and Jay heard her start a shower. Jay lay still, accessing the cast-net.

Finally I have what I have always wanted, and all it does is make me sick. All on the cast-net were plastered virt-lives and stills of the massive TELREC raid against the Iganinagi. It began with their Coss being captured at Nelljin, being frozen in place, then collapsing to the ground, to the cheers of the TELREC. Brief reminders were shown of the atrocities the Iganinagi committed, with images of each Coss at their most brutal, driving long knives into innocent women and children, beheading men. The infamous scene of the murder of the children of TELREC collaborators was also shown, the last image being Ilgin's son eating the ground remains of the others, screaming and wailing as an Iganinagi with a large hatchet approached him. Then came the actual invasion of the cells, the virt-lives of the Iganinagi dying at TELREC hands. Never was an image shown of a child being murdered—only the adults, and mostly only the men.

How could they all be dead? Everything I have ever known, is gone? They fought so hard to survive, fought so hard for the Novan people. Was there no one to help? Mom always spoke of alliances they made, friends they had, but where were they then? And even though they are all gone, I still feel the death of Minn. Why did I do that? I would rather have died with them all, then to live like this.

Though she had begun to remember all the things her mother said—about one's thoughts, about battle and fighting—she needed one last moment of weakness. All the torment, all the guilt and shame welled within her, begging for release. In a cathartic motion she collapsed within herself, as the faces and memories of those she held dear surfaced in her mind, melding with the images of their deaths. She curled into a ball, on the bed, and let loose a torrent of tears. She sobbed aloud, not caring where she was, or who heard her.

^Get up.^ Anies stood in front of her, naked and dripping wet, her nipples hard and firm. She wore a lascivious smile, a marriage of lust and disgust.

^No.^

Anies punched her in the back, forcing the very air out of her, bringing pain to her ribs.

^Get up!^

Jay turned slowly, and Anies grabbed her hair, and dragged her off the bed. She fell to the floor.

^Get up, you damn sniveling coward! I don't have time for this. Get up.^

Jay stood slowly in front of her, with a face wet with tears, her nose leaking thick sticky fluid.

^You disgust me,^ cast Anies, as she slapped Jay hard in a lightning quick motion, some blood spraying the bed.

^Fuck you!^ slammed Jay. ^Go away from me! Leave me alone!^

Anies went to work on her, beating her in the stomach, cutting her in the shoulder with hands trained and honed for battle, kicking her in the thighs. Jay tried to fight back, using all the anger she felt over the past roa, but was no match for Anies. Quickly Anies had her pinned on the ground, one hand holding Jay down, the other one punching her in the mid-section.

^Does that make you feel better, Jay?^ Punch. ^You cry like a little baby, how could you be one of us?^ Punch. ^You're gonna have to get a whole lot tougher than that—^ punch ^—to make it with us. I won't carry you, you little piece of shit!^

She punched her repeatedly in her breasts, bringing extreme pain to Jay. Jay remembered something Anies taught her only a little while ago, when she got her implant, and concentrated her mind.

^Get off me!^

Jay hit her hard mentally, and Anies dropped off, clutching her mind. She recovered quickly, and pinned Jay again, laughing, her naked body writhing in pleasure.

^Good, you learn quickly!^ Anies bent down and kissed her, pulling down Jay's pants, forcing herself on her. ^What, you don't want me now? Well you're mine, bitch. You could have had Sullise to beat and boss around, found some joy in raping her after a hard roa. You could have even had your little sister—now she would have been a fun toy to have around, all tight and sweet. But you were too much of a scared fuck to get what you deserved, what you earned.^

What does she mean?

^You know what I mean, Jay. Maybe you'll never admit it to yourself, but that's too bad, because now, you're all mine.^

As Anies ripped off her clothes, and Jay submitted, Jay thought only of her mother and father, and of Kleder.

I will have my revenge! One roa, Kleder. One roa, father. One roa, mother. In a moment she came to a peace about her mother, about what she was protecting them all from, about the sacrifices she made throughout her life for Jay's safety. She knew in order to avenge her, to avenge them all, she would have to become the person she most hated in life—her mother. One roa, you shall all be avenged! The Maenids may break their bond, and kill me as they would a man, but by all I am, I shall exact vengeance on Denged. He shall die, as payment for the death of my people.

Chapter 12

The planet Rell was a place of harmony between nature and souman. Though there were a few centers of technology and science, most of the planet lived much the same way since they took over the planet, seven thousand cas ago. Small villages, housing no more than ten thousand, made up the Rell landscape. These villages were based around the natural resources they could harvest—fishing, agriculture, mining. Children had become a rare occurrence, so new housing was rare, and expansion of the village was unheard of. The average Rell had little use for technology, as worship was the center of most non-work activities. Animals still pulled wagons; farming was done mostly by hand. The only aspect that technology dominated was medicine. As such, the Rell people supposedly enjoyed a life free from pain or disease, yet filled with faith and contentment.

Cobblestones rose and fell of their own accord on the path; some moss covered and slick, lying in wait for the unsuspecting, unwary foot, others smooth and dry, level and pure, a sure reward for the careful traveler. Uonil had traveled the path hundreds of times in her youth before the Kal-Durrell called on her, taking her away to the cool metal and formed plastic of Rellcine. She walked this path slowly, carefully, not because she was afraid of falling astray, being felled by those errant stones, but because it calmed and soothed her, emptying her mind of thought, replacing the future with the here and now.

Arciss was at her side, an unwelcome companion. She tried to slip away without anyone noticing, tried to null her mind and fade into the shadows but Arciss was a watchful one—it was said he could even sense the Kal-Alçon, and had, on many an occasion, much to Graid's chagrin, when he was venturing out on one of his carnal journeys to Novan's degenerate clubs. He could be a pest sometimes, asking too many questions, stating opinions with a weak voice, begging to be dismissed out of hand. He actually was a very intelligent man, whose ideas were worth listening to. Even as Uonil tried to slip out, he reminded her that it was no longer safe for her, as Mentra, to venture anywhere unaccompanied. And though she dearly wanted to walk this path and go back to her home, her real home for a little while alone, she had to agree.

The one condition was silence. Silence of voice, silence of thought. Arciss seemed to whimper as she stated that—he rarely could keep his voice or his mind quiet for long. But it was agreed, and as they navigated the stone pathway, she almost felt alone.

Around her towered a great mountain range—the Drugghid. In all directions their massive peaks rose into the sky, carpeted along their base with trees and brush that faded into stone and snow as the sky reached down with its clouds. In the valleys the clouds hung low—glistening wisps of vapor, lazily floating amidst the mammoth ranges. The path took her up a small hill, and she gazed below on the valley of her home sprawled beneath, unchanged since she was a child, unchanged for countless centuries.

"Wow."

Uonil cringed at his word, but appreciated it. Arciss came from a large Rell city, and was unaccustomed to venturing into the countryside.

"It's alright. Actually, it is spectacular, isn't it?"

"Yes. This is where you grew up?"

"For a short while," she said, with a sigh. "An all too short a while."

They made their way down slowly, the grey, weather-worn cobblestones leading to large granite steps, overgrown with grass and wet with the morning's dew. The carpet was alive with life—small furry creatures ran nearby, birds flew through the air, singing all the while, reveling in the crisp, cool air. The cobblestones picked up again at the base of the stairs, now surrounded by low bushes filled with tiny birds that scurried off as footsteps were heard, chirping as they took to the sky. Arciss constantly swatted at small bugs that cropped up if one stepped in the wrong place.

Uonil debated to herself at warning Arciss—a part of her hoped it would discourage him, and send him back. Her kinder nature prevailed. "Don't step in those dry patches. They fly up and don't go away, at least, not until they've exacted some penance from you."

"I'm beginning to understand."

Averil, a small village of around two thousand, came into greater resolution as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Hundreds of low, dome-like structures filled the landscape. People walked back and forth along the small paths that connected the village, their chatter and laughter a welcome change from Novan's cold silence. Even at this distance she could make out many people she knew, and memories came back swift and thick. She paused for a moment, taking in the sights.

"You know, it's strange being without Graid for this long," said Arciss, in a hushed voice, as if Graid might overhear him. "I've gotten so used to hiding my thoughts; it's good to be able to relax."

"He can be . . . a tyrant, sometimes." She didn't like thinking of the Kal-Alçon in those terms, but it was true. "I feel as if he could sense our thoughts, even this far away."

Arciss looked worried. "You think?"

Uonil playfully pushed him. "Come on. I'm hungry."

The cobblestones sputtered and ended abruptly after a few tils, the path turning to dust and gravel. Uonil looked down at the ending, like a cliff overlooking a barren desert. She remembered when those stones gleamed in the light, silver instead of the current dull grey, when she herself had to polish them with the other children. She didn't even like to walk on them, anxious about soiling the waxy surface, and glared disapprovingly at the adults who casually traversed its length. But here it ended, her past pulled up for who knew what reason, the future bleak and uncertain.

They made their way along the rocky path, taking them close to the river Eld. Grass grew tall and rough, and across the water tall elks could be seen foraging, proudly standing in the morning sun. In its depths could be seen the small, darting fishes unique to this section of Rell—tasty, but wily and fast. Their bodies shimmered like so many lost coins, bouncing along in the current. This was a narrow pass for the river; a daring soul could wade across it, if they were strong enough, the nimble foot grasping onto the many beds of bluish hruma roots that gathered under the water. The current rushed quickly, finishing its long journey from high in the Drugghid, emptying into the Ila-hin ocean some twenty tils away. Arciss knelt and passed his hand through that cool water, catching his reflection in its depths. He shimmered, fading for a moment, then reappeared, as the sun passed in and out of the clouds. The breeze from the mountains swept down upon them, bringing a quick chill to their skin, mist forming from their breath. Arciss stood and breathed deep, nourishing his lungs with snow-laced sweetness.

"We are going to be here for many roas," said Uonil, smiling at him. "You can always come back."

Arciss nodded. "Somehow, things are never as beautiful, as pure, than when you first experience them."

They quickened their pace as the temperature dipped suddenly. Uonil hadn't even consulted weather forecasts before she left, so desperately did she not want anything to spoil her getaway. Into a thicket of brush and trees they descended, the path now shielded from the elements with a green canopy, massaging the sunlight upon their bodies. The trees arched over the path as a thousand leafy soldiers saluting a returning hero. In her youth, Uonil would see many of the couples walking this length, slipping into the verdant wall, laughter and merriment in their wake. Called the path of Ulis—named after a lover immortalized in legend—she always dreamed about what they found in those depths; some magic, or mystical spring that they bathed each other in. She left Averil when she was far too young to go there with someone, and yet it was a long while before she banished that dream to the recesses in her mind. Even now she walked quietly, listening for gentle laughter, absently hoping a young man would spring out and take her in his arms.

The path soon widened into a great field, filled with all manner of plantings. Yellow fruit-bearing trees, low, flowering brushes with tiny, fragrant purple blooms, and tall, thin wispy strands of green, whose pollen danced on the wind, making Arciss sniffle as they passed. Benches were arranged in a circle, with seating for several hundred of the faithful. Uonil remembered this was the village derasar, where any important civic business was discussed, where, at night, they practiced their faith in the Castiliad, under the spectacle of the universe. A tall, grey tree stood in the center, and though its naked branches were bereft of leaves it was still proud, reaching up to the heavens. It was a Boolin tree, physical manifestation of what others would conjure in their minds, and Uonil had never seen one so frail and weak. The energy from Castiliad always fed it before, and she could only imagine they must not be using it now. The village sub-Alçons would usually be tending the derasar—rarely was there a moment when she was growing up that people didn't sit here, linked in the Castiliad, arranging their thoughts on its graceful limbs.

"This is your derasar?" asked Arciss.

"Yes. I don't know where the sub-Alçons are."

"Would you look at that," he said, amazed. Arciss walked around the tree in the center, tall and old, its trunk cut through with wrinkles deep and wide. "An actual Boolin tree! I heard many villages had some of these." He reached out, running his hand along its surface. "This hasn't been used in a long time."

Uonil came beside him, touching a tree she had only known as something powerful and vital. To feel its ashen texture made her sad in a way she didn't think possible. "I know. It's sad, really. Most people in the larger cities haven't even seen one of these, and here, it is going to waste, dying."

"Faith has left this village," he said somberly.

"What do you mean?"

"You can see the signs. Something has happened. The community has fractured, and they have lost their way. I think it is happening all over our world—I could feel a little of it in Piros. But as it was a larger city, it was easier to hide."

Uonil thought on some of the sub-Alçons who guided her first tentative steps in the Castiliad. They were gentle souls, of clear mind and spirit, always offering themselves to any who needed their guidance. A man named Tog came to mind, not one of the senior sub-Alçons, but one she connected with, one who helped her through some difficult cas.

"I hope you're wrong."

As they made their way through the benches the sky started to grey over, thick angry mountains of mist advancing on the valley. In the distance could be seen a grey fog, a shimmer, as some kind of storm fell nearby. The wind picked up, growing bitter and cold, shaking loose fallen leaves and hurtling them in all directions. Uonil drew close her thick cloak, wrapping her face in a white lace scarf she took along, just in case.

While she cowered in the face of the cold, he stood straighter, and grinned at the spectacle. "Are we almost there?"

Uonil looked over at him, who suddenly seemed taller, stronger than he had been before. His voice carried a confidence that she heard too infrequently before. She put her arm in his, and started off in a light trot.

"Come on. Just a little further."

They jogged along the path that was born again on the other side of the field. Cobblestones appeared again also, this time gleaming and sure.

At least some things haven't changed.

They rounded a corner of trees, and the village burst upon them. A few people could be seen on its roads, carrying bundles this way and that, but most were closing windows, fastening shutters. The houses were simple and low, built of stone and clay, meant to give shelter and cool in a hot summer, yet trap every parcel of heat in the long winter frost. Most were old and worn, blackened with the soot from fires over hundreds of cas, their shells time worn with cracks patched and re-patched over again. The smell of cooking food greeted their noses, along with chopped wood, cut grass, and a hundred other things foreign to the Novan world of steel and synthetics. Around them hung signs on stores, simple and plain, flowers blooming in front of houses, small creatures darting back and forth, as birds flew high overhead. It brought a small tear to Uonil's eye, though it faded quickly in the cold.

"Over here."

They ran into a nearby building, one of the taller ones in the village, three stories high, with several autocars parked nearby. Set on massive dark-red wooden pillars, it was a thick building, filled with carved wooden adornments over its windows, solid dark archways, great marble stairs that were framed with brass and iron rails. It spoke of permanence; of strength to endure any storm, anything nature would throw at it. In Uonil's youth, several of its wooden sculptures in the front lawn were re-carved by local artisans, painstakingly re-creating every last detail. It was a tradition dating back thousands of cas. The building looked exactly as it did when first its doors were opened. It even caught Arciss' attention, so beautiful was the facade, so ornate its accouterments. Outside its doors two great trees framed the entrance, small brilliant white flowers blooming along their branches. Many of the flowers littered the ground, making a gentle carpet for welcome visitors.

"What is this place?" asked Arciss, taken aback by the scope of the structure.

"We call it 'Old Red.' Actually, it is the home of all administrative offices of Averil. It's also the unofficial community forum, barter hall, village inn, drinking hole. It is one and many things."

"Old Red. I like it." He passed his hand along the railings as they ascended the marble steps, coming to doors twice the size of a man, left casually open as people passed in and out. "Reminds me of some of the early derasars in Piros."

"I think it was modeled on a couple in the old city," said Uonil.

Arciss paused, looking at the two trees which towered above. "These trees are beautiful."

"Thank you." Arciss looked at her questioningly, as Uonil flashed him a smile. "I am named after them. They are called Ceyuonil trees. Come, let's get warm, and get some food."

The interior was unlike the simple village surrounding it. Great frescoes stretched above them, painted on a ceiling arched and high, with several windows illuminating the space. Ornate golden lights lined the passageway, every bulb seated in a cradle of jewels, casting colors of great purity and brilliance on the walls. Uonil led Arciss to the left, and they found themselves in a great room, with a long bar on the left, and dozens of tables in front of them.

The room was a bustle of people, shuffling around, talking, and exchanging items. The room was the center of Averil, where anything important happened concerning commerce or the community. Merchants, lovers, students, philosophers gathered there, talked and people-watched. This room was the first and last stop for anyone venturing to Averil, a place one could find almost whatever they were looking for. Some turned to watch Uonil and Arciss, but most carried on with their business. Uonil smiled at this sensation of being in a room where she was not the center of attention, where she did not have to carry herself as the 'Mentra,' where she was just another woman.

"Uonil?"

She turned knowing who the voice belonged to before her eyes confirmed it.

"Solti?!"

Uonil smiled, and laughed, embracing her old friend. Tall and thin, she had a wide smile that was always present, her teeth gleaming, her laughter never far behind. Uonil had known her those many cas ago, one of her few friends from childhood.

"Uonil, it so good to see you again! How are you here?" Most on the planet knew of Uonil, and Graid, that they had a mission on Novan to accomplish that was ordained by the Kal-Durrell. They knew not of the details, but were aware of their existence.

"I am here for a short rest," she replied, as more of her relaxed, just looking at Solti. "But where are my manners? This is Arciss, a good friend of mine."

"Hello."

"Hello." She looked him up and down, grinning at his choice of clothing, a combination very much in fashion, in places that cared for such things. "You're not from a town like this, are you?"

"No, I confess, I was raised in one of the larger cities."

"You're going to need some warmer clothes." Solti said like someone's mother, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"If someone had mentioned what the weather would be like," rebuked Arciss, with a sideways glance at Uonil, "you wouldn't have caught me so unprepared." Uonil pushed him playfully.

"I guess things must seem very simple here," said Solti, clasping her hands behind her back, moving a little closer to Arciss. He grew concerned, not knowing where this path was leading.

"A little."

Uonil took his hand. "You'll have to forgive Arciss. We have been around people for very long that couch meanings behind meanings behind lies and half-truths. It has been a while that he has been around those who merely talk, to exchange information and good-will."

Solti laughed. "How long will you be here?"

"For six roas, I suppose."

"Did you review a weather forecast before you left?" asked Solti.

"No, why?"

"Maybe you have forgotten. A circulle is approaching, and very fast. Don't you remember?"

Uonil thought back, to a storm of immense size, bringing snow that covered the entire village, so nothing could be seen, not even the tops of buildings.

"Oh my, how could I have forgotten!" she cried. "And that's what we saw coming?"

"That is but the preface. The main storm is a roa away, and we may be up in the mountains for a dozen roa."

"You brought me all this way, for a snowstorm?" Arciss muttered. "I'm going to freeze . . ."

Uonil remembered more of her childhood, the big storm, with all the inhabitants seeking shelter in caves in the mountains, building fires, singing songs. A primitive existence, but one that drew the whole community together.

"We should head back, Uonil."

"Arciss, it's too late for you two to go back. The road you came in on is gone, by now. You have no other option than to wait it out, with us." Solti rubbed his back with her hand. "And don't worry, I'll find you some warm clothes. I won't let you freeze."

Arciss was visibly upset, and the warm expression on Solti's face also concerned him.

"Oh relax, Arciss. They can do without us for a little longer." Uonil glanced around the room. "I thought it was a little busier than I remember." She soaked in the voices, and the faces. "I think it's good we will be here longer than we first thought."

Solti bent down and whispered in Uonil's ear. "Things have changed, though they might not look it. This is not the same town you left, fifteen cas ago. You will understand, soon enough. And you may wish you did not come." She turned to Arciss. "But since you're here, let me give this man a tour. He won't be able to see our lovely town in a roa, and there is much to see."

"But shouldn't we—"

"No, Arciss. Go with her." Uonil laughed at his awkwardness. "We are swept up in a situation of which we have no control. We may as well enjoy it."

Solti led Arciss out as Uonil sat at a nearby table. She was as an island in a sea of movement, with different shapes and smells swirling around her, speaking words she cared not to understand. She felt detachment, and as a singularity she only needed to care about her breath, her body, her mind. The air was thick with concern and indecision, and as she breathed it in, her defenses down, it worked into her metabolism, subtly changing what she thought was fixed.

"You're Uonil, aren't you?"

She looked up, and an older, grey haired man stared down at her.

"Yes. Do I know you?"

He sat in a chair next to her. "I'm Ulidric, a friend of your father's. I used to visit your home a lot, back when you were a child."

"Ulidric, Ulidric . . ." She raced through the files in her mind. "Yes, I remember! You used to play that game . . . what was it?"

"Plistin." He laughed a little. "It's been a long while since I played that."

"You used to play that with all the children."

"Look around, there aren't that many children these roas, if any."

She did look around, and was surprised not to see them running underfoot, playing in the shadows. "How is my father?"

Ulidric had a visible look of shock on his face. "You don't know?"

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "What?"

"He . . . he died, five cas ago."

Uonil felt as if she was punched, her head was spinning.

"How?"

"An accident. A rockfall, near one of the mines. He died quick, and peaceful. How is it you didn't know?"

She wished she could tell Ulidric about all the work she had to do, all the training, all the reviews. She wished she could tell about Graid, and how he occupied her every spare moment, so important was he to the future of the Rell people.

"I . . . have been occupied. And out of contact for a long time."

Ulidric put a friendly hand on her arm. "I'm sorry I was the one to tell you."

"No, it's alright. It was naive of me to think everything would be the same, unchanged after fifteen cas. I guess not even Rell can withstand the effects of time."

"I guess you saw the path on the way in," he said, a sorrow creeping over his face.

"Yes. What happened? And to the tree?"

"Well, that's more bad news that I'd rather not share with you right now. Your mother is alive, and still in the same house, I believe. You should be talking to her."

"I suppose," she said, the dread welling in her soul.

"Why didn't you go there first?"

Uonil looked down at the table, thoughts churning in her head. "I don't know. Maybe I wanted to take things slowly, coming back."

She looked around at the people talking, bartering—her people. She had been away from them for quite a while, surrounded only with those trained to be on Novan, focused on the same objective. These people were simpler; only focused on food for the roa, conversation to pass the time. No one here cared about meta, or Iganinagi.

"You look hungry," pronounced Ulidric. "Let me get you some food and drink."

He walked away, a slight limp skewing his sturdy frame. She looked at his pants, dirty from work in the soil and grass, clumps still caught in the folds of the cuffs around his ankles. They fell off, mingling with the foot-treaded soil on the floor. On Novan, micro-meta would have cleaned the first drop of dirt, the floors always immaculate.

Uonil settled back, her body letting go its hold over itself, letting flesh and muscle sag. For a few moments she just existed, hearing her own breath, feeling her own heartbeat thump softly within her chest. Her eyes grew lazy watching men and women shuffle back and forth, their motions lulling her mind into a sleepy calm. There was no threat of death waiting around a corner, no advisors to deal with, no agents to train, and no Graid to be fearful of.

It's the fear that has finally left me.

She always dealt with Graid with a great degree of strength and composure, but he never realized how much she actually feared him until that moment.

He is like death incarnate, random and final. He could kill me on a whim, and I don't think he would truly miss me. She thought on his actions in front of Selva, how only her words seemed to spare her. I play a delicate game, acting the part of authority, but knowing there is no one above him save the Kal-Durrell. And when I mention them to him, I no longer see fear in his eyes.

She forced herself to banish the memory of Graid to her deep sub-conscious. She ran her hand along the tabletop, feeling the worn grains etched deep into its rich maple surface, stained with decades of drink and food.

"You look comfortable," said Ulidric as he returned with a heaping plate of food and two tankards of a frothy liquid.

"I am." She smiled, and then sat up, helping relieve him of his burden. "Mmm . . . How did you know I wanted this?"

"I remember you. One doesn't forget the little girl that went off to be the Mentra."

Uonil nodded her head, thinking back on her last roas in the village, a bittersweet time of tears and sighs.

"I didn't want to leave."

"But you knew you had to. Come now. Enough of the past—eat!"

She dug into her food, the first swallow bringing back an intense hunger. They ate in silence for a few mroas, until Uonil was comfortable again.

"Tell me about yourself. How have you fared these many cas?"

"Oh, passably well," replied Ulidric as he sat back in his chair. "My fields still yield beautiful fruits and hardy roots. I never overwork them, just enough to fill the quota, then that's enough. Others ran through their soil cas ago. A lot more people have come to depend on me."

"A lot of people always depended on you," added Uonil, taking a long drink from the tankard. "You watched me, many times when I was young. How many children grew up hearing your stories, singing your songs?"

Ulidric let out a long sigh, as the memories came flooding back. "Yes, though most have forgotten those times. We walk among each other as strangers, keeping to ourselves, hiding our pain. I miss the laughter of children—their eager eyes, and inquisitive faces. I miss watching them grow, from being barely able to walk, to outrunning their mothers futilely trying to chase them down. I miss hearing of a girl's first kiss, or a boy's first time holding a girl's hand. I keep those things precious to me, Uonil, and roll them over in my mind, a lot more lately. I have always regretted not having a son, or daughter, regretted not taking the time to find a woman for me."

"It's not too late."

"You just don't know," he said, sadly shaking his head. "This village is but a clearer representation of the whole planet. Faith may still exist, but hope is dying, almost buried. So many believe our roas are numbered, that when the Cuhli-pra ascends, Rell will die. All of us. We will fade into the sunset, a forgotten people. That's why there are no children, why few engage in Castiliad, why our Boolin tree sits grey and barren. And why should we have children? Why should we bring another life into this world, if it will die in the morning? Better that we fade out gracefully, with dignity and honor. For a time, people rebelled, after hearing of Martel's death. A few from this village even went to the riots, protested our pacifist posture. But as it became clear that none would listen, and nothing would change, they returned, their anger turning to a frustrated indifference that murders one's soul. "

Uonil felt the weight crawl back on her shoulders, felt the tension wind her muscles up.

"Is that how everyone feels?" she asked, quietly.

"Most won't be as direct as I have been. But yes, look around. Look in their eyes, in their motions. Do you remember when a circulle came when you were younger? People would plan for several dcas, taking many of their possessions up, making it a great excursion for their families. There would be singing, dancing, chants around the fire. Now, fewer than half this village will go up."

"What do you mean?"

Ulidric looked at her with hard eyes. "Fewer than half this village will be alive when the storm passes. It started a few cas a go. A couple of people would stay, despite many protests and pleadings from the others. Then, with each passing cas, the number grew, and the pleadings grew to whimpers. We are a people resigned to death, committed to surrender and defeat."

She thumped her hand on the table. "That is not the people I knew! That does not describe the people I work with."

"Doesn't it, Uonil? Every sun must set, every age come to an end. We kept focused on our faith, on our hope, for long after the Novans resigned themselves to their oblivion. It is only now, as the hammer begins to fall, that we kneel, waiting for the blow."

Uonil wanted to say so many things at once, tell him he was wrong, that there was great hope, that so many people were committed to the preservation of the Rell people. But he only told her truth; she could now see it in the eyes of those around her, read it in her movements. She was so focused on rest and relaxation that she ignored all the signs of it. She sat back, and acceptance of his truth shifted and guided her thoughts.

"You still have great hope; I can see it in your eyes. As well you should." He sopped up the last gravy off his plate, took a last gulp from his tankard. Uonil looked at her plate, half the food she so welcomed still sitting there, growing cold. She pushed it a little forward, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "The people who work here would be offended if you left so much," he said, pushing it back towards her. "Besides, you'll need the nourishment, for your body, and soul. There is much work to be done, moving our people up to the caves. You were going to help us, right?"

Uonil felt purpose fill her breath once again, an achievable destination. "Of course."

"Then eat, visit your mother, and get that man with you to help over at the granary."

She did finish her plate, relishing once again the tastes of home, the food she grew up with, in a place, though not perfect, that gave her great comfort. As she made her way out of Old Red and down a path that took her to her home, thoughts of the past welled inside her.

"Uonil, you are something special."

"But I don't want to go!"

"You need to go with them. The Kal-Durrell ask that you serve your people, use your gift to help them."

"They don't ask, they command, mother! Why would they take me away from you, from my friends?"

"Uonil, you know those are not balanced thoughts. Think on the purpose, and intent, and let the logic calm your emotions."

Two sub-Alçons had smiled down at her, gesturing her to a waiting hovercar. She had thought, for a moment, on the friends she was just making, the paths around the village she was just exploring, her desire to be in love with a boy.

"I want to stay!"

"You can't, Uonil. You are something too special, too precious. Your gifts must be—"

"I am not a thing!"

She had looked at her mother with eyes of hate, seeing in her past all those advanced classes, all those tests, all that encouragement to learn more, study harder, spend less time with her friends, now as a conspiracy to get rid of her.

"I hate you."

She had regretted the words as soon as they were uttered, they hit her mother like a brick across the face.

"You don't mean that. I love you, and so does your father. We will miss you terribly. She had struggled hard to keep back the tears, but Uonil could see a few escape, running down the soft curve of cheeks that had pressed against hers, a face that had kissed her brow when she was sick. "I love you."

Uonil thought now on those words, softly whispered from a face worn with agony and pain, betraying the hurt at losing her only daughter. With each step her apprehension grew, as she walked down the tree-lined street leading to her old house. She had communicated with her mother infrequently; the last time she sent word was seven cas ago.

I could blame Novan, or Graid, that they absorbed all my time, forcing me to neglect her. But that would be wrong. It was my fault.

She stopped in front of her door, barely remembered, portal to a world she would rather forget. She stepped forward, and opened the door. Her eyes couldn't believe the extent to which her home had changed. The furniture was different, the pictures on the wall were different, even the color of the walls was different. She stepped in, and looked down, and where once there were wooden planks, shined and polished over decades, now lay large squares of marble.

"Hello Uonil."

In an archway stood her mother, Ellae. Still thin, with short-cropped hair now overrun with grey, Ellae had a fire in her eyes brighter than she remembered, starkly different from those in the village.

"Hello mother."

"I wondered when you'd get around to seeing me again. Making the last rounds, as it were?"

Uonil scanned her mother, looking for signs of that fatal frustration Ulidric described. "You don't believe were doomed, like the others, do you?"

Ellae walked in the room, bidding her daughter to come in, sit, and close the door. They sat opposite one another in chairs too rigid for Uonil's liking.

"Well, with you in charge, I have a little hope," Ellae said absently.

"Thank you."

She looked Uonil up and down, looking at her hair, her cheeks, her arms and legs. "You've gotten fat."

"And you've gotten blunt, mother."

"When your daughter leaves, and your husband dies, things change."

Uonil clenched her hands together, and leaned forward. "I didn't leave, I was taken."

"Mmm." Ellae gritted her teeth, like the sharpening of two knives. "What brought you back here?"

"I don't know." She really didn't know. In all the other timelines, she never ventured back home. She never even thought of her mother. But with the death of Martel, something had been festering inside her. She needed a connection, a bond, something reaffirmed, that she could hold onto in the struggle ahead. She knew how desperate she was for that bond, thinking that she now sat in front of her mother, who would surely lace her words with venom and pain.

She let out a tired sigh, and decided on the truth. "Mother, I need you."

"Why now?"

"Things have grown difficult."

"Where were you when things got difficult for me?" demanded Ellae, hammering her words.

"You never asked for me."

"Would you have come if I asked? Left your immense responsibility, to help your poor mother?"

"How dare you act bitter at my responsibility!" yelled Uonil, gesturing with her hands. "I never wanted to leave, never! If I had to do it all over again, I still would have begged, and pleaded to stay!"

Ellae looked down, her limbs sagging. "I know."

Uonil looked on her, beaten and weak, and felt disgust with herself. "I'm sorry."

Ellae brightened a little, a stood quickly, smoothing her clothes. Uonil smiled, remembering where she got the habit.

"Are you going to help us move? How long are you here for?"

"Yes, we are here until the circulle passes. I brought one of my trusted advisors, Arciss."

"Well, I still have some reinforcing to do throughout the house. The village could always use help moving the last of the stores from the granary. Your room is still upstairs, if you'd like to rest for a bit."

She was shocked at the image of her old room, still intact, unchanged. "My room?"

"Yes. It's the one thing I didn't change about this old house." Ellae stood, and went through an archway, busing herself with sealing windows and doors.

My room?

Uonil got up, and was about to go upstairs, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

It was Arciss and Solti. Uonil saw Solti's arm holding Arciss', and read the feeling of awkwardness in Arciss' face. Despite her mood, she couldn't resist a smile.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, I enjoyed Solti's company immensely." He looked around the house, brightly lit with the late-morning sun, every object twinkling as if just polished and cleaned. "You have a very beautiful home, Uonil. Thank you, Solti, for showing me around. Uonil, do you know how we can help?"

"Not yet." Uonil actually had little desire to help at the granary; after all, she came here for rest, not back-breaking toil.

Solti came close to Uonil, her face growing serious. "You know, you could always try to convince those who would stay behind, to come with us. Maybe a fresh voice, a different perspective, would help in many cases."

"What do you think, Arciss?"

He nodded in assent. "I'd love to."

Solti mentally downloaded their names and addresses to Arciss and Uonil.

"Tonight we will have a last meeting, in Old Red, where we will put her to bed for the circulle," said Solti. "I will see both of you there?"

"Of course."

The village sprawled lazily in the valley between the Drugghid—an orderly network of small streets with two large roads, homes spread out greedily with ample land in between. Uonil got a small motorized wheel vehicle, noisy and slow, but quicker than walking, considering all the homes they needed to visit. They didn't really need the addresses of those people, as their homes were easy to spot. Some homes were shut tight, boards behind windows, insulating foam peeking through doorways. Others were open for all to see within, their owners lazily camped outside, or meandering within. Some of the villagers waved as Uonil passed by, whole others scowled at her and Arciss.

"I think this will be more difficult than we expected." She pulled her scarf over her face as she spoke—she had forgotten how cold it could get in Averil.

"Possibly. Here is the first. Tog Vexcit."

"Is it really?" commented Uonil. "Tog is one of the potential suicides?"

Arciss pulled the motorized contraption to a rough stop, thumping against a patch of stones. Sorry about that!" He cringed as she groaned getting out of the small seat. "You said he was a sub-Alçon?"

"Yes, he was." She thought back to her childhood, and one of the few compassionate faces from those cas. Tog had his faith, but he also had a soumanity few others possessed. She had her first crush on him, made up any excuse to visit him, to listen to him speak of the Kal-Durrell, of the heathen Novans, of the great deeds that the Rell of the past had done. After she collected herself, she stroke briskly up the small path, almost running into his house.

His house was open to the world, cold and windy, with two levels. Already the wind had not too gently begun remodeling the interior, tearing down pictures, knocking over glass and ceramic objects, the floor now littered with shards laced with paper and memories. A voice boomed from the upper level as they made their way through the debris.

"Who is it?!"

"We were sent by the village to see if you would leave," yelled Uonil, "if you would come up into the caves with your neighbors and friends."

The voice snickered. "Now when did anyone start caring again? You must be a damned stranger to our ways."

A man clambered down the stairs, not too old, still of healthy body and youthful eyes. His back was broad and thick with muscle from working in the mines. His hands and hair were covered with white dust.

"I've been trying to fix my shed in back. Damn wind's gettin' pretty strong." He looked closer at Uonil. "Don't I know you?"

Uonil went to him, aching to hug him, but restrained herself. "I am Uonil. I lived here as a child, with my mother and father. Don't you remember me?"

Tog scrutinized her, a sour expression on his face. To Uonil, he looked several cas older than he should have been, as if the life was sucked out of his face, the fire extinguished in his eyes. His every word seemed to be filled with gravel, sounding as if he was making a supreme effort to condescend to speaking with them.

"Yeah, yeah. Your dad died."

Arciss shook his head at his bluntness.

"I have heard," said Uonil, ignoring his manner. "Why won't you leave?"

"It's my choice. One of the few choices I have left."

She couldn't restrain herself, and pounced on him. "What happened that you made this choice?! You were, or are, a sub-Alçon! How could you, of all people, lose hope?"

"Does it matter? Will telling you my story give you some great insight into my pain, that somehow you will make better again? I think not—we're all adults here. If you must know, my parents are gone, my children are gone. I am alone in this world; a world without a future. I choose to die here, in my home, in a manner that befits me."

"As a failure?"

Tog harrumphed, and crossed his arms. "Who are you to judge me?"

"She is the Mentra," said Arciss firmly, stepping forward.

"Mentra?" asked Tog, chuckling a little. "Ah yes. I heard you became one of them. Well titles mean little in the face of death, little girl. I don't know why you're here, in this little village. Maybe you're setting things right before everything passes, making peace with relics of your glorious past. Well, I've made my peace and I'm ready to leave."

"Tog, I tell you there is still great hope for our people." It hurt Uonil to hear him speaking like this. She wanted to grab him, shake his mind, take him back to the man he once was. "We have the Kal-Alçon, who is determined to protect our people, in the face of the Novan heathen. Nothing will harm our precious world."

Tog began to thump around the small living room, shoving this or that, trying to ignore her. "It's all just words to me, little girl. Go back to your city, to the safety of people who tell you things you want to hear. Go back to the illusion of power and strength, the facade of immortality. We are a doomed people."

"Tog, don't you remember the times when I was young?" beseeched Uonil, grabbing a hold of his arm. "When you spoke to me about faith, about the greatness of the Rell, about the enduring nature of our faith? Look at me, Tog. Look at my face! Where has that compassion gone, where has your strength?"

Tog did look at her, sideways, as if he was still holding the memory of her at arm's length.

"People change, Uonil. People die, like your dad," he said, pulling his arm free. "I'm sorry if you came back expecting someone else, expecting that person you loved as a child, but he died a long time ago. And he is never coming back."

Uonil pressed on, undaunted. "What of your faith?"

He let out a loud laugh. "Faith? Faith?! That is all there has been on this world. Look around you, child. We have nothing else to do other than work, sleep, eat, and pray. There is little to distract our minds other than thoughts of the Kal-Durrell and the many aspects of the universe. Uonil," he paused, the frustration finally coming out of him, "have you forgotten what life was like here? To wake, and thank the Kal-Durrell. To walk down the street, greet your neighbor, and bless him with the spirit of the Kal-Durrell. To sit with one's friends, talk briefly of work, and people, but immediately speak of the teachings in the Ment-al-Ellin. Do saying the words over and over again reinforce one's faith? No. They make it as rote, giving the illusion of wisdom. This village has fallen, all the while quoting words form the Ment-al-Ellin. Faith . . . what a funny word. I've forgotten what it truly means."

Arciss had enough of his blasphemy, and came close to him, something snapping inside. "Tog!" His voice resonated with authority, and even Uonil was shocked into silence.

Tog though, still had fire in his eyes. "Who are you?"

"I am a friend of Mentra Uonil. You say titles mean nothing in the face of death? Well experience means plenty. Have you spoken with the Kal-Durrell?"

"No . . . of course not."

"She has. The faces of the living universe have spoken to her. Why do you think they would have spoken to her?"

"I . . . don't know," sputtered Tog, stumbling over his words, a little irritated at the force Arciss was showing.

"They spoke to her because they believe in her. They could have chosen any number of the millions of planets that surely exist in the cosmos to come to, but they came to ours. They have sacrificed almost ten thousand cas to be with us, to give us tangible symbols of hope."

"Tangible symbols of hope?" countered Tog. "Rell will be destroyed, and they will merely journey back from whence they came. They know not of death like we do. They don't know fear, or despair. They are immortal!"

"How dare you lose your faith, when our people need it most!" yelled Arciss, becoming emboldened. "Does the sapling wither and die at night, because it doubts the rise of the sun? Does the baby cub run off a cliff, because its parents have left it to fend for itself? You lose faith because you do not know the future. You want someone to tell you what your future will be. Would you rather we create a kind of TELREC, to steward our race? Imprison us behind platitudes of well-being and self-sacrifice? You have not known adversity for far too long. You have not had to fight a battle that seemed to be lost, only to prevail! I could recite passage after passage from each of the Kal-Durrell, to tell you where you have strayed. But all that matters not. For it is not faith in the Kal-Durrell you have lost, it is faith in yourself. Faith in yourself to stand tall against perdition's fires, to stand alone against the multitudes bent on your destruction. You are never alone, Tog."

Arciss reached out with his mind, entering into Castiliad, forming a small Boolin.

^And you are right,^ cast Arciss. ^Words alone do not constitute faith. I believed mere words were the key, but how they pale in the light of life! The beast of prey does not turn aside with words of the devout, its teeth do not dull at the motion of hands forming symbols, or kneeling in prayer. Death will come, but it is how one faces death that is important, what strength they have to draw on to defend themselves against the beast of the void. Actions are our salvation, but those actions must be grounded in principle for the truly devout to triumph!^

^Feel the interconnectedness of our lives. Feel the limbs of faith that only need to be recognized to begin to support yourself once again! Feel how your people, your community, needs you, needs everyone, to brave a future uncertain and fraught with danger. How can you turn your back on them?^

Tog reluctantly joined with Arciss, his mind feeling the strength of the Castiliad. For a while they built the Boolin in their minds, an assemblage of experiences Tog had over the cas, its relation to the planet as a whole, to others in the community. Tog could feel the ripple of his decisions extend outward, merging and distorting with the ripples of his people. In the Boolin, he saw truth, saw what had eluded him for far too long.

Finally, the walls of frustration and misery were broken within him, spilling forth joy, love, and most of all, hope into his old heart. "Thank you!" He cried with joy, and reached out and grabbed him with both arms, sobbing into Arciss' chest. Arciss embraced him just as tightly, acting as an anchor for this man's soul.

"There is much work to be done—will you join us?"

Tog stumbled back, looking as a man reborn, the cas falling from his face.

"There are so many things to secure in my house, so many possessions to bring," he said, his gaze flashing to and fro, as if he had just woken from a long sleep.

"All the community needs is you. You know that everything else is immaterial."

A confident smile graced Tog's lips once again, and Uonil could finally see the man she once knew. "Yes, Arciss. I stand with you, with my people, now and forever, may the Kal-Durrell guide me!"

"And me also. Come with us, to others who felt as you did, help us to build this village's strength, once again. Keep this Boolin with me, as we go, so they may feel its beauty and truth."

"I am yours." Tog looked again at Uonil, letting the memory of her fill his heart, reliving those times of great joy and happiness, the feeling coming back into his limbs and into his heart. "I have missed you, Uonil."

Uonil could hold back the tears no longer. "And I you, Tog."

They embraced, Tog lifting her high in the air to her squeals of delight. He spun her around, her dress flowing in the air. Still a strong man, after all those cas, he barely lost his breath.

"Tog, you know you can't be doing that. I . . ."

"I know you're a Mentra now. A little undignified?"

She looked up at him, seeing that same man who looked over her as a child, seeing the compassion bloom in his face once again.

"No. You can do that anytime, with me."

They stood for a while, and Arciss felt very uncomfortable, which he always did.

"Now enough of this sentiment," said Tog, with a man's strength in his voice. "We have work to do!"

"Yes, we do. Let's reach some of those who thought they were beyond reach, and give them reason to live again."

They spent the next several droas going house to house, having similar discussions, hearing of all the loss these people had suffered, and how they had not allowed themselves to rebuild, to regenerate. But they all fell against the power of the Castiliad, against the strength of so many hearts and minds bent to one purpose. Arciss felt something within him rising and assuming command, a strength and confidence he always knew he had, but had been afraid to express. The more his words and thoughts influenced others, the more he felt grounded, and stable, and confident. He didn't need to couch his words in written scripture; he knew what to say simply by observing one's face and actions. He discovered he could tell so much about a person, simply by opening his senses to them, listening, touching, smelling, seeing everything a person had to offer. The Boolin he shared with the others acted as a brace for him, the energy within it fortified his spirit and self, as he fortified those traveling with him. Uonil traveled quietly with him, keeping her words and thoughts to herself, seeing the change that was occurring within him. She was overjoyed to see the effect it was having on her people.

Arciss led them all at the end of the roa to rest under the Ceyuonil trees in front of Old Red. The trees were feeling the effects of the impending storm, their tenaciously strong branches now barely holding onto a few last resilient flowers. The massive old building was shuttered tight, its windows invisible behind the thick wood panels, its doors sealed with a foam that peeked out some of the cracks. She stood there like a guardian of the past, a past kept locked within its walls, safe against the passage of time. The rest of the inhabitants of Averil were summoned, and Arciss cast to them all.

^Nest my thoughts, people of Averil; too long has gone by while you all have stayed silent and closed to one another, grown distant from one another. Here are those who, for a time, lost all their faith. They now stand with me as a beacon of strength and joy. Come join us, at your derasar, in front of a Boolin tree withered and dying, so we might unite as Rell brothers and sisters, so your faith may regenerate what was almost lost!^

They walked slowly, picking up a few stragglers as they went, braving the increasing cold, the snow beginning to settle on the ground. When they finally arrived at the derasar, everyone from the village was with Arciss, standing in a giant circle around the Boolin tree. The tree started to come alive, as the Boolin in their minds took shape on it, its branches glowing with light. It stretched high into the sky, its warmth radiating like a small sun, casting the snow away. They spent droas building it, reconnecting bridges with each other, finding new strength within themselves. The snow lay down thick around them, but within them was only warmth and joy.

As the inhabitants finally moved slowly out of the village, along the long, winding path leading to the caves, Arciss took some time and walked with Uonil down the path of Ulis, her hand in his.

"You were magnificent."

Suddenly a bit of the old, sensitive Arciss came back, as he demurred at her words. "Was I? I think not. I merely gave them a spark, and they built the fire, one that will keep them warm the rest of their lives."

"You truly are a man of faith," she said, with a newfound respect in her voice. "A man of Rell. The Kal-Durrell would be proud, and I'm sure, even Graid."

Uonil gazed up into his eyes, gentle and strong, almost concentrated jewels of the sky above. For a moment, thoughts of Rellcine crept back in her mind. But the feeling of cold, wet snow sneaking into her shoes, the brilliant sunlight warming her face while her hands were growing cold, the beautiful stillness of the landscape, brought her back.

They moved slowly, and with each step, Uonil left a little of her power, of her authority, behind her. All her life, she had been in command over people. Even as a child, her immense intelligence made her family, her friends, cater somewhat to her needs, for they knew she was special, and destined for greatness. Not until Graid was mature did anyone diminish her stature. But here, she gave it up willingly, wanting to be just another woman, being escorted by a man.

"Have you made some peace with your past, Uonil?"

"Yes." She clung to his arm even tighter, and pulled her scarf up over her lips. "I have always felt it difficult to interact with people who had a past, who had a family. I always felt jealous, and bitter, feeling emptiness in my soul. Now I know that is why I was chosen, when I was. The Kal-Durrell knew Graid would need someone to identify with, someone who also didn't really have a family. I feel his pain, sometimes, Arciss. He wasn't given the same compassion we all were given."

"But he is coming around; I see it in his eyes. As we find out more about ourselves, and deal with him from that strength, he will understand his place among us."

She looked down that tree lined path, now white and shimmering, as she got closer to Arciss, to share in his warmth. "You know, I always wanted to come back here, to see if I would have a chance at love. To have a man gather me in his arms, and run with me, through these trees. Martel filled most of that void, though he was not a lover, he was a best friend, and someone I could even rest behind, so mighty a warrior he was. I feared for my future after the Kal-Durrell appointed you, Arciss. I didn't stop to understand their motives. Now I do. I couldn't be happier walking down this path than I am now with you. You have brought warmth back to my heart, and hope back to my soul."

They turned and looked at each other, deep into each other's eyes. He brushed some snow off her hair.

"You still have a chance, Uonil. Don't give up on yourself. We need to spend the next several roas with your village, and there is still much work, much healing to be done. You have felt who might be good for you; I could sense it in the Castiliad. But I thank you for your words, my Mentra, my Uonil. Never have I felt closer to someone, than I do now."

He leaned down, and kissed her, ever so gently, as the snow gathered around them.

The trek up to the caves was a long one. Wagons were loaded with the last possessions of those who only recently agreed to come. The snow had already accrued with interest, overflowing off the roads, making travel difficult and strenuous. The streets in town had been cleared and salted, but as they began the winding road through the thicket of trees leading to the base of Callsent—the nearest mountain—it swelled up above their knees.

The path wove back along the river Eld, almost completely frozen over with the settling cold. Larger animals still loped nearby, taking a last drink of water before they found caves and warm places of their own. The trees arched above them, planted long ago to shield against the snow, and they did. They path grew easier, as only a few inches made it through the defense. Up above a white ceiling replaced the sky, and though the path grew dark, no torches were lit, as the overhanging snow would fall and bury them.

Most of the travelers were still connected with one another through small Boolins. Memories of journeys past traded between them; times when children still laughed and ran among them, and how precious a cargo they were. Lovers would walk in a soulful embrace, laughing and kissing as they went, oblivious to the cold or hardship of distance. Many of those couples were still alive, still with each other, and they embraced again, in love born anew.

Uonil looked on them as she nestled close to Arciss. Arciss had offered to carry her on his back, as she was quite small, but the Mentra within her declined. She, after all, enjoyed the smell of Arciss' cloak, feeling him hum songs as they walked, listening to them in her mind. She thought on all the times she wanted to build a real connection with someone, but could never let her guard down in Rellcine, never appear weak in front of other Alçons. How she could have sacrificed her happiness like that she couldn't understand now. Though to an observer she may have looked vulnerable, and weak, she never felt stronger, never felt surer of herself.

The cover from the trees finally gave out, and once again the travelers found themselves knee deep in snow, being buffeted by thick waves of fresh recruits. They were now at the foot of the mountain, and began their long climb up to the caves, located in a wide belt midway up its height. Along the way, many people approached Arciss, and thanked him for convincing them to come along. He had become their leader, though he uttered few words. He could feel the attention, and responsibility, yet felt no anxiety or fear about interacting with them. He fed off their love and strength, feeling finally this was a place, and time, where he could be of use, where he could help those who could not help themselves.

All throughout his life, Arciss felt his sexuality prevented him from taking such a leadership role. Though he knew the teachings of all the Kal-Durrell, in great detail, he never asked to address large groups, never asked to lead others in a Castiliad. He felt the need to amass more and more information, to learn more and more details, to prepare himself for an eventuality that never came.

My life was all potential, never actual. Even my work with the Alçons, or Martel and Uonil before, was all strategizing, analyzing, never committing to a bold decision. I always hid, afraid of the scrutiny, afraid of disapproval or censure. He realized, for the first time, that it wasn't his sexuality that impeded him. I never have been thoroughly confident in myself. Always falling back on another's words, another's teachings. The Kal-Durrell have been a safe shield, for none could question their words. But to stand alone, on one's own feet, and speak words new and unique, has always been impossible for me. But here . . . He stopped, and scanned the mountains, the snow beneath them, the purity of the landscape, uncluttered with double meanings or hidden traps. Here I know who I am, and what I am capable of. How could I have gone so long, never to understand where I belong?

Uonil squeezed his hand. ^I can sense your thoughts.^

^I'm sorry.^

^Don't be. Many people go there whole lives without realizing where they belong, what their gift is to those around them. Purpose was thrust on me; Graid was born with a predefined purpose. But you and most everyone else must find it, and that requires a strength of character that I admire.^

^What will I be when I leave here?^ pondered Arciss, glancing down at Uonil's face.

^You will be who you have always been, except you will have wisdom and purpose. What you feel, and see now, will become a part of you, a foundation upon which all your essence shall thrive.^

They walked for a while in silence, as Arciss reflected on her words.

^When did you get so wise?^

^There are as many facets of wisdom as there are faces of the universe,^ cast Uonil. ^Sometimes, one sees through with the right eyes, and understands, but even then it is but a fragment of a greater whole.^

As they all gathered on the path, beginning their long ascent, the wind howled, biting at their faces with pellets of snow, sharp and bitter. There was a short gasp by many of the travelers, a step back for others. Arciss spoke aloud and cast to them all.

"^The mountain wishes to greet us, lost friends from long ago. Let us greet him in song.^"

"With sure short steps along a twisty bent path

we walk, never alone

with short quick breaths in a place all unknown

we walk, never alone

oh dance in your soul to the music within

oh breathe in your heart from the joy deep within

we walk, never alone, we walk, never alone."

"Inside us blooms the shapes of our lives

beautiful and seen without lying eyes

inside we find great bonds of love

wonderful and clean it's more than enough."

Their voices joined his, resounding through the valley, seeming to make the snow itself fall slower, even hover in the air above them. Strength returned to their steps, some even bounded over great snow drifts that had begun to form. They tackled the steep, winding path as a challenge instead of as a defeat. Uonil loved to look up and see Arciss' face beaming with joy, singing with the people, lifting their spirits with a kind glance or thought.

This is what I wish Graid could be like. But so much has corrupted him.

^Don't dwell on the past,^ cast Arciss. ^Think only on the future, and only think on that with great hope.^

The snow built in intensity, swirling around them, blinding their eyes as the sun shone hard through the clouds. Then in a moment, it all fell away, and the openings to the caves could be seen by the few who had climbed the highest. They shouted back at the others, and soon, great cheers went up all around. Those who were already in the caves came out, waving their hands, cheering them on. As Arciss stood with Uonil at the opening to one of them, looking down at the storm, with a few specks of the village showing through, they both dwelled on the deceptive simplicity of this existence. They knew in their world, on Rellcine, every moment was filled with duty, with tasks and assignments, reports and consultations. But here, one truly must deal with one's own soul. Solitude was an adversary of great cunning and guile, a patient predator that could murder one's soul without warning, suddenly.

The caves ringed the great mountain where a waistline would be on a giant, high above the snow topped tree line, but still far away from the cold, airless peak. They were carved almost fourteen thousand cas ago, a relic from a world exterminated by the Three Hundred. But the Rell of Averil appreciated them, and integrated them into their existence. They served as shelter from the Circulle, and no matter how much technology advanced, no matt-trans whisked the people of this village to sunnier climes. No matter how much they perfected a weather control system, they still migrated to the caves every cas. For them, the migration to the caves fulfilled part of their spiritual cycle, a retreat done every cas to build friendships, deepen romances, spend time with children and search one's soul for guidance for the future. Food was stored deep in the caverns, packed in ice soon after the first snowfall of the season. A few guards kept watch afterwards, guiding away animals who knew of their habits and sought to capitalize on the easy meal. Electricity was never run into those caves, and even now, a few assigned people started fires near the entrances, as wet clothes were shed and put out to dry.

There was little talk in those first moments of settlement. Possessions were offloaded from the wagons, the great beasts that drew them set free to descend back down the mountain, and sleep in peace. Those things were claimed by their owners, as they carved out a space for themselves among the caves. A few had to venture back out into the snow and relocate to another cave, until balance was achieved within the limited space. Darkness was drawing near, and the sun faded behind dark clouds, still shedding frozen water on the village. It alternated now between snow and freezing rain, and at times a hard shell could be seen shining on the mountain, spelling certain death for any foolish enough to descend. But these people were at peace in the warm caves, looking over its walls at messages scrawled from times past. Every so often the walls would get so full, some would sand away those carvings, their meanings lost to eternity, creating a blank slate. A few of the walls in the cave Arciss and Uonil were in were so cleaned, shining in the newly born firelight.

Uonil helped her mother arrange her belongings, and pull some food from the stores. Three fires were almost set, two for general heat, one for cooking. After they were done, Uonil sat in front of one of them, watching its limbs dance and sway in the wind, lulling her into a deep calm. Arciss sat beside her.

"You haven't said much to your mother."

"I think we both have many things to think over."

Arciss nodded. "Have you introduced yourself to Denre yet?"

"Now why would I do that?" asked Uonil, blushing.

"You know why. I could feel the connection between you two in the Boolin. You know he is well matched for you."

A weaker woman would have blushed, but she was able to mentally control herself. "We are here for too short a time to involve myself in such foolishness."

"Time is what you make of it." Arciss' voice was calm and warm, and no matter how much Uonil desired to brush it off, he couldn't be ignored. "It is only as long or as short as you want it to be. Some can spend cas with a mate, and get little joy. Others can burn like that flame with another, high and hot, and though the fire be only for a night, the memory will last a lifetime."

Uonil shifted on her knees, arranging her skirt, finally dry and still a little warm. "Maybe over the feast."

Arciss smiled, squeezing her arm for a moment. "I will hold you to that."

After a droa, others began to gather around the fire, with food in their hands and smiles on their faces. The man named Denre sat near Uonil, on the other side of her mother and a friend. It was the first time she had to see him close up, without a blanket of snow between them. His face had wisdom about it; his nose long and thin, his eyes narrow, yet sometimes she would see them open in joy, the light dancing in their depths. He was a shorter man, thin, but with strong arms and hands. His bronze skin was deeply tanned from work outside over the cas, his hair still thick, its short black curls hanging loosely around his face. Uonil stole glances at him as he helped pass food around, hearing his short laughter, watching his quick, sure hands. She didn't want to glean any thoughts from him, valuing his privacy, but she could sense a disciplined mind, one of contentment and peace.

Everyone leaned in, after putting the raw meat and roots on a stick, to roast in the fire. As Uonil leaned in, she turned to see his face, hoping to catch his gaze. He also turned to her, nodding his head in greeting, his face gentle like the memory of a myth.

After the meal was finished, some went further back in the cave, and sat, talking. Others gathered around Arciss and questioned him endlessly about matters of faith. Uonil found herself alone, as she did not want to talk with her mother. They hadn't exchanged more than five words since arriving in the cave, for both knew what really needed to be discussed.

"Hello, Mentra."

She turned, and it was Denre. "Please, call me Uonil."

"Uonil, come sit with me."

They took a spot near the entrance to the cave. The snow had abated, for a time, and the stars glistened in the nighttime sky. For a moment, she thought on Rellcine, and what they were doing, what plans they were scheming in response to the TELREC. Then she turned and looked at Denre, and was so glad to be here.

Though he was not a tall man, he carried himself with an air of dignity. Relatively thin, he had muscles hardened by work in the fields picking roots, tending beasts, building and repairing homes. He had a musky smell about him, one that drew Uonil closer the more they spoke. She noticed his eyes were piercing; they came in use for hunting, as he rarely missed his mark with bow and arrow. She glanced at his hands, and they mirrored the roots they ate—the veins stood out against his bone, they were tough, and large for his frame. When he spoke he had a gentleness in his voice. It wasn't a doubtful, apprehensive voice; it was full of confidence, yet warm and comforting.

Denre, seeing the anxious look in her eyes, began gently. "So, you grew up here?"

"Yes. I left when I was about ten cas old."

"That must have been sad," he said softly.

"It was. I didn't want to go. Does that surprise you?"

"Maybe if I had met you in the capital, as the 'Mentra.' But here, you seem to be one of the community; you don't hold yourself as superior to others. You work, just as we do."

"Well, I admit my mother wanted me to work in the granary when first we arrived." They both chuckled. "I found more constructive, more appealing work to tend to."

"I'm glad you did, Uonil. A roa's work there and you'd be fast asleep now, depriving me of your lovely company."

Uonil blushed a little, turning towards the fire. "And yourself? You're not from here."

"No. I come from Allexdin, about fifty tils northeast," said Denre, motioning to a point out to the left of Averil. "My parents settled here twenty cas ago, and I immediately felt this was home."

"Why did they settle here?"

"Honestly? My mother was being tempted to stray by someone in our town. They both thought it best to move somewhere more isolated, where they could reconnect with themselves."

"Did it work?" asked Uonil.

"Unfortunately not," replied Denre with a sigh. "They stayed mated, but I could tell they were miserable. A few cas ago, my mother finally ended her status, and went back to her home." Denre paused for a moment, absorbed in his past. "Are both of your parents still alive?"

"My mother is. My father died a little while ago."

"I'm sorry."

"As am I. I wasn't here for his death, and I greatly regret it."

"You don't seem to be very close with your mother."

"You can tell?" Uonil wasn't sure if it came out sarcastically or not. "Yes, we have our . . . issues."

"Pardon me for presuming, but shouldn't you, as Mentra, hold up yourself as the example to follow for all? If there is something that needs to be discussed, and sorted out, shouldn't you do this now?"

Uonil looked at him, a man with such sweetness in his eyes, and honesty in his heart, and she knew he was right. She looked over at her mother, sitting with Ulidric.

"Thank you. Will you excuse me?"

"Will you be back?" asked Denre.

"I promise, for you."

Uonil went over, and took her mother aside. They sat together, and began to open up to one another, to speak of what was on their minds for so long. They spoke to each other long into the night, going over what happened to each of them in the past cas. Ellae spoke of her husband, Ju-huld, how much she loved him, how much he missed his daughter, and wanted to have another. Ellae felt, like the others, that their planet was doomed, and it would be wrong to bring another life into it if it would be for such a short time. Her hope truly died when Ju-huld was killed in the accident. She gave up, feeling terribly alone. Only her talks with Ulidric kept her from suiciding in the Circulle, kept her mind focused and her body active.

Uonil spoke of Martel, and how important he was to her. She spoke somewhat of Graid, but some things had to be kept from even her mother. Instead, she focused on her growing understanding of Novan culture, of Arciss and his remarkable transformation, of the Kal-Durrell and what it was like to speak with the faces of the universe. It was now late, and most had gone to sleep under great blankets, with a couple left awake to tend the fires. Uonil held her mother's hand.

"I'm glad you're here, mother. I don't know what I would have done, if something happened to you."

"I'm glad you came back," replied Ellae, "and that no matter what happens, we have had this chance to speak to one another."

"You know, I used to feel very bitter against you and father, for giving me up." She paused for a moment, considering her words. "But I have come to realize, it was as it should be. I, the Mentra of this world, second only to the Kal-Alçon, allowed my own anger to cloud my judgment and impair my logic. And that anger has kept me from you, and cost me final moments with my father." She clasped her mother's hands in her own. "I hope you can forgive me."

Ellae couldn't look at her; tears were streaming down her face.

"You don't know how many times I've cursed myself that I allowed my faith to come before my duties as a mother! I should have never let them take you! I should have fought them, cursed at them, begged them to let you stay. I know what you missed, how your childhood was taken away from you, watching others build lasting relationships, while you suffered alone. It is I who must apologize. Maybe that's why I lost my faith, that roa my husband died. It truly left the roa they took you, and only now is it restored."

They embraced, sobbing into each other's arms, knowing nothing but the heartbeat of the other.

"I see you may have found someone special?" asked Ellae, wiping her tears with the cuff of her jacket.

"Arciss seems to think so. I actually should thank him; he made me realize my duty, a little while ago."

"He sounds like a good man. I know you're only here for a short time, but in that time, forget about everything else. You are Uonil, a young woman, and that is all. Make the most of this time. Promise me?"

"If you promise me one thing?"

"Anything," she said, drawing her daughter close.

"Maybe you ignored the signs in the Boolin, but I saw them. You need to open your heart to Ulidric. He has been by your side for many a cas now, too honorable to wrest you from your memories. But the time has come for you to bury my father, and let him lie. Your roas are far from over, and they can still be filled with happiness."

Ellae glanced back at Ulidric, sleeping in a corner, his kind face turned towards her, and she felt great warmth rise within her, that quickly turned to love.

"I guess I just needed you to come back. Thank you, Uonil."

She got up, and went over to Ulidric. He groggily looked up, and she slipped into his arms, kissing him deeply. Uonil had never seen a man so surprised, yet so overjoyed. They embraced, and Uonil turned away, slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The morning brought the sound of birds that had flown into the cavern for warmth during the night. More than a couple of people woke with droppings on their heads and clothes, then got to flushing the visitors back out into the open air. A couple of small malltas crept in during the night also, making their home near the fire, between two mountains of blankets. Usually timid, they stayed around as the people woke, grateful to be fed some scraps from the morning meal. The sky was still filled with snow, the village now completely buried, invisible to all who tried to find it. Arciss sat next to Uonil, who was reading some of the inscriptions on a nearby wall.

"Look at this one, Arciss. This has to be seven thousand cas old." She pointed to an inscription very near the cave floor, written in the Rell tongue, but with some artifacts in the language that vanished many centuries ago. "There is so much history here."

"And then there is the history of those who came before us."

"You mean, the Enquit?"

"We never think about them, do we?" Others had gathered around him as he spoke, so used were they to listening to his thoughts. Soon, the entire cavern was focused on him. Arciss spoke, and cast his thoughts to the people of Averil.

"^We never think that our ancestors, the Three Hundred, wiped out an entire civilization, and entire world! We, who pushed our minds to the limit, inventing things beyond imagination, the technology to pierce through the dimensional divide, used it for plain murder. To escape our own cowardice. My friends, for so much of my life I have cherished the memory of the Three Hundred. They were heroes, saviors to me. They sacrificed their eternal souls, their very salvation, to bring us a world without our hated enemy. But whose souls did they condemn? Theirs, or ours? We live on a world that is not ours, cherish rock and stone, tree and sky that were robbed from another. How could things so stolen, bring us any good? Especially when they were purchased with cowardice.^"

"^I am the Steward to the Kal-Alçon,^" continued Arciss, more focused than Uonil had ever seen him, "^and I say it for all to hear; we were cowards! We, instead of finding a way to solve our problems with the Novans, instead of sacrificing something of ourselves, ran away, and made others pay for our sins. I stand on a ground whose history I do not know. We have done nothing to preserve the memory of those we destroyed. Instead, any artifacts we find, we crush. We transplanted every living thing to this world, and burned every indigenous lifeform to dust. How pathetic of us! How sad and thoughtless.^"

"^What can one gain, when it is based in murder? How can one profit when the ground is stained with the blood of more than one could imagine? How can we be buried in that ground, without it vomiting up our corpse in righteous disgust? When they sterilized this world, they did so from orbit, never looking on the faces of those they killed. Never giving the dying the satisfaction, the eventual peace of confronting their executioners.^"

"^Why do I tell you this? Why do I bring up such sad memories, such cruel judgment against my own people, at a time when we should be rejoicing in our company? Think on the Boolin. It is meant as an expression of truth. One only builds it with truthful statements, only gains wisdom based in that truth. We all should think of those Enquit, those who died with no marker, no symbol that they ever existed. We have six more roas here, unless something extraordinary should happen with the weather. Use this roa to give remembrance to those who died, so we might live. We cannot excuse how we came about this world, we can only cherish it now, and ourselves. Come, let us join in Castiliad, and build a Boolin with all our people, spread out throughout the mountain.^"

They all sat back, and focused their minds in the Castiliad. First, they linked with one another. Then, once the Boolin structure had begun, they linked with others throughout the network of caves. Their minds responded, and they joined in kind. For most of the morning, they focused on the Enquit, what their deaths meant, how they could relate it to changes in their own culture. Many a person was reduced to tears on thinking on the deaths of so many men, women and children, so many species of animals gone, so much flora and fauna burned in the fires of the Three Hundred.

As they were focused on the Boolin, one of the malltas ventured within their circle. Uonil focused on it, and its image came up in the Boolin. Uonil had an extensive knowledge of microbiology, as well as a few others on the mountain, and in moments, its DNA also became a variable in the Boolin. Uonil focused on some abnormalities within its structure, ones noticed and logged several millennia ago. She postulated that microbes may have survived the sterilization of the old world of the Enquit, microbes that were absorbed into his animal's bloodstream, as well as everything they transplanted. She separated those abnormalities, isolating and constructing the source microbe. Others then joined in, also skilled in genetic engineering. In moments, they evolved the organism first into a one celled, then one multi-celled, then into a complex lifeform. Gradually, they hypothesized on an amoebic form, then a small fish-like form. It grew, to amphibian, mammal, then to a furred forest-dweller. The community looked on this creation, a possible representative of a long dead world.

In the afternoon, work was begun on one of the great blank walls of the cavern. It was decided to make an image of the creature they created in the Castiliad, a hypothetical inhabitant of the world of the Enquit. It was to be a huge image, ten feet high, twenty feet long. People from the other caves came in, working together, sketching the image with burnt wood, then gradually chipping away at the stone, bringing the animal out of hiding. Uonil worked with Denre most of the roa, and they exchanged laughs and sighs, talking over their lives, sharing themselves with one another. Part of the joy people had in coming to the cavern was seeing their romance bloom, for though Uonil was one of them, she was also the Mentra, one of the most powerful people on the planet, and her happiness brought them hope, her laughter lightened their sorrow. Arciss glanced at her from time to time, watching her lower her guard, hoping she would not resist this good thing.

Sunset came quickly, and though they all sat for a while, hoping to replenish their energy, fatigue settled and stayed. A few were assigned to clear the floor from the chippings of stone, while others prepared the fire for the feast. More food was broken out of storage and a few brave souls ventured outside, as the snow had reduced to a few flurries. Most were sad to see it go, as they knew it signaled the end of their retreat was closer than they would have liked.

Arciss took a few people and ventured to another large cave, at their request. More people wanted to speak with him, question him, warm themselves by his devotion and faith. He did so humbly, with a gentle smile, freely embracing everyone. He could feel that this was building to something, and only recently divined what it might be. For now, he sat with them at their feast, at the end of this roa of remembrance for the Enquit, and beseeched them to hold the memory of those people within their hearts for as long as they lived. Solti was at this meeting, and approached him afterwards.

"You have changed."

"Maybe not changed," he said with a smile, as they sat near the back of the cavern, "merely changed the potential into actual. I have always had great confidence in my beliefs, my faith, but not that much in myself as a person. Over the past few dcas, I've had my identity challenged by a very strong persona, one that eclipses others in his wake. I think I've finally reacted to his influence, becoming stronger, and more direct."

"It is rare when one reacts positively to such a dominant personality," said Solti, running her fingers lightly along Arciss' arm. "Usually, one fades into their brilliance, lost in the corona."

"Has that happened to you?"

She beamed at him, grabbing hold of his arm, coming close to his chest.

"I think you've helped enough people this roa," she said, her face close to his, beaming with a lover's smile. "I have my own issues—I'm not perfect. But I felt I just wanted to be with you. I enjoyed our time spent together when you first arrived."

Arciss looked in her warm eyes, filled with a suggestion of what could be. He had recently ended his relationship with Cray, and was feeling lonely. He had never been with a woman, didn't think he could even be attracted to one, at least, not until his experience in DaLynch with Graid. Ever since then, in quiet moments, he re-examined his sexuality, wondering about the choices he had made in his life. She could sense his hesitation, and backed away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you have someone that means something to you, back where you came from."

He leaned forward, and pulled her into his arms, his voice thick and husky. "No, please sit with me—I enjoy your company."

They relaxed back, and spoke of their lives, their lost hopes and still vibrant dreams, until the night was deep and still.

The morning came gently, sunlight spilling over mighty snow hills, giving life to a valley buried in a snowy tomb. The clouds were nowhere to be seen, so the sky echoed every subtle hue cast from the sun, blooming as a flower over the land. The people of Averil slept late, and soundly. Solti and Arciss still resting against a wall, sleeping next to each other, as if still engaged in the discovery of themselves. All were at peace save Uonil, who tossed and turned, locked in a terrible dream.

What are you firing at, Graid?

Where are you?

What power is within you, how can you do this?

She woke, struggling for breath as the blankets had crept over her head. She staggered to the opening of the cave, breathing in deep the fresh air, going over in her mind the elements of her dream.

"Are you alright?"

It was Denre.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't speak to you last night, I was quite tired."

"We all were." He turned back into the cave. "But it looks magnificent, doesn't it?"

On the wall the creature emerged. Two-thirds of it was done, and by the end of this roa, it would be complete. The relief was etched deep into the cavern wall, the still young sunlight making highlights along its form.

"It's amazing how much we accomplished."

He came beside her and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her next to him. "Bad dream?"

"And I never dream! The more one uses colvition on Novan, the less one dreams, or at least, the less one remembers them."

"Can you tell me about this one?" he asked.

She sighed sadly. "I wish I could."

Uonil looked at this man, who she only recently began to get to know, and suddenly she felt nervous around him. Her hands were jittery, she felt self-conscious about her clothing, her smile, her voice. Her stomach wouldn't stop rumbling, she hoped he would stay a little longer, say one thing more, yet wished he would go away, so afraid was she of making a mistake.

"As the Mentra, I know of things that I just can't share with anyone. My dream was about one of those things."

"Ahhh . . . I see. Then maybe it's something simpler. Problems at work?"

She laughed, thinking how she wished her 'job' could be reduced to such simplicity.

"I guess so. You have a nice smile, Denre."

Should I have said that? Am I being too forward?

"Thank you, Uonil. I like spending time with you. How is it you don't have a mate?"

"That would be a very long story."

Denre sat back, gesturing to the mountain of snow outside. "We have the time."

"Well," she began, sitting back with him, "I guess most of my life I've felt I was a freak. I have always possessed this mind, this brain that seems not to belong in this body. I was a sub-Alçon at thirteen, a full Alçon at sixteen, the Mentra at eighteen. I have absorbed more information than you could believe! I hold full honors in eighteen of the twenty recognized fields of study, with expert status in the other two. My whole life has been about study, and about becoming comfortable supervising those two or three times my age, figuring out how to earn their respect. And on top of it all, I am the Mentra, guardian of Graid. The Kal-Alçon is my responsibility, and as such, the hopes and future of this world are my responsibility. I never feel like a woman. I am cursed with this short, stocky body, with a child's face. Oh why am I telling you all this? You don't want to hear this from a woman. You see, I have all this intelligence, but no wisdom, no experience."

He nodded quietly. "It sounds as though you have gone most of your life without someone to confide in, without someone to be completely open with. Martel, though you obviously loved him as a friend, and possibly desired him as a mate, was still your sub-ordinate, and as such conversations with him followed a particular dynamic, based on that power structure. I'm probably the first person in your life you have been this open with, am I right?"

She looked sheepishly into his eyes, overjoyed at his compassion and intelligence. "Yes."

He held her hand, moving nearer to her, Uonil growing flushed and nervous.

"And I can't tell you how much that flatters me, how much it warms my heart."

His face moved closer to hers. She couldn't believe what he was doing. Uonil broke out in a sweat, fears and anxieties racing through her mind. She could handle dozens of cescts simultaneously, but this one experience she found was completely overwhelming her. Their lips touched, and she closed her eyes, feeling warmth flush her face. She pulled him in close, pressing harder on him, her instinct and desire overpowering her modesty. He let her draw him in, their mouths opening and closing, his hands moving up and down her back. The taste of his lips, of his flesh, was something unlike she had ever felt before, and it blinded her mind and aroused her body. Eventually she pulled away, looking at him through eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes quickly with her sleeve.

"Don't be! That was your first kiss, wasn't it?"

She paused for a moment, knowing how vulnerable she was becoming to him.

"Yes."

"Did I make a good impression?"

She laughed, and he with her. Denre kissed her on her forehead.

"It only gets better, the more you do it."

He sat before her, completely cool and confident, aware that he was firmly in charge. She couldn't believe how small she felt in front of him, how exposed, yet how happy she was at the same time. She looked down into the valley, where the tops of houses appeared to push up from within the snow, begging to be born anew.

"It looks like we will be able to leave in two roas."

"Then we'll have to make the most of them."

"I wish we could go walking, together."

"Why?" he asked.

"You'd think it was silly."

"Please, Uonil, you can't share with me things about your work. So, you need to share with me these other 'silly' things."

"Yes, I suppose I do. I just remember, well, do you know that path, leading to the Boolin tree, where all the couples went?"

"Ah, the path of Ulis?"

"Yes. Well, I was just thinking, it would be nice to walk through there, with the sun shining through the leaves, the sweet darkness just beside the light. I guess you went there many times." she said, dreamily gazing into his eyes.

"A few. And yes, it would be nice to walk there with you." He looked out over the landscape, clouds beginning their assault on the sky, the full range of the Drugghid sprawling out before them, trees just beginning to reappear, birds rising and falling on the gentle breeze.

"We'll just have to make a new tradition. Just for us." He put his arm around her. "Sitting and watching the morning sunrise."

Their peace and calm lasted but a few mroas, but they were everything to Uonil. They heard footsteps, as others came from neighboring caves to finish the carving. Her mother appeared behind her.

"Hello, Uonil. How was your sleep?" She looked over at Denre as he moved off, giving them some privacy.

"Very restful. How was yours?"

Her mother sighed, and held Uonil in her arms.

"I haven't been this happy in so long, my daughter! To have such love again, from a man, and from my own daughter, back with me, even for a short time. This world could perish tomorrow, and I would be more ready than I thought possible. It looks as though you have found some happiness too?"

"Yes. I didn't think it possible either," she said, beginning to cry. "I didn't know how alone I was, until someone was with me."

More people filed into the cavern.

"Well, this won't do, the Mentra of our people, sobbing in her mother's arms." She started to move away. Uonil pulled her back, burying her head in her mother's chest.

"Here, I am Uonil, daughter of Ellae. Nothing more."

"Now ladies," said Ulidric, walking towards them, "there is work to be done! We need everyone's help if we are to finish this roa."

"Mother, how could you get involved with such an overbearing man?"

"I don't know," said Ellae, as she stood and kissed him. "I just don't know."

The roa went quickly, as all were eager to finish the carving, to stand back and look on it, free from dust and debris. Arciss spoke often with Uonil, some subjects of their other life coming up, spoken of with a different perspective on both parts. Both of them were amazed they hadn't seen solutions to particular problems before, or understood a point of view. Arciss was getting closer to Solti, and thought a part of him regretted it, feeling he was betraying a part of himself, another part of him surrendered to her love and kindness, and was supremely happy. The malltas had become comfortable around their roommates, jumping around at their feet, waiting to be fed a scrap from the meal. As the sun sunk low in the hills, one of the people motioned to the opening, and others turned to see the malltas stop at the entrance, look back at the people, then run down the hill, rejoining the world. Arciss stood at the entrance, and turned back to face those with him in the cave, casting to the rest spread throughout the mountain.

"^My friends, I can honestly say I have never been happier than I am right now. I have been among those whose faith was absolute, but whose hearts lacked joy. They recited verse, as I once did, but their words had no feeling, no passion. It was as if they ate food, but it gave them no pleasure, or they had forgotten it could give them pleasure. We have found that pleasure, found that one can relish in the peace and unity faith brings about.^"

"^I have something to ask of you. I am not the Mentra, nor the Kal-Alçon. My position is not one which gives me authority over Rell people, such as yourselves. I merely ask you this as a friend. I have seen much on this world, listened to many people, and they all suffer as you once did. They live lives based in faith, but never celebrate it. For so long we have defined ourselves as the opposite of the Novans—where they revel in pleasure, we live in austerity. Where they wallow in sin, we arrogantly recite words and practice ritual. The approaching Ascension of the Cuhli-pra has magnified this failing, as now people have nothing of worth for them to rely on as their fears confront them. Fear is a beast that doesn't run at the mere mention of words, or bow to motions made in ritual. Fear must be confronted with the whole of oneself; all one's mind, body, and soul, for it to truly be defeated. Our world begs for the likes of you! Our people cry out not for one Kal-Alçon, but for a thousand, a hundred thousand, to walk among them, sit with them in their dark night of the soul, and lead them to light's salvation. The Castiliad must be brought back to those that have forgotten it, this whole world must be united, one mind, one soul, one thought, if we are to prevail. Time is short, a crisis is approaching, a time when our most powerful, the Kal-Alçon, will need the help of each and every Rell. I ask you to go among them, leave your homes, take nothing but the clothes on your back, and travel around this world, this home now ours, and bring back those who have given up. Change those whose minds have become perverted with hatred of our enemies. Rescue those from temptation. I am not your leader, nor shall I ever be, nor do I desire to be. I am a humble servant of the Kal-Durrell, the living faces of the universe, who chose us to live among, chose us to give comfort and guidance to. It is in their glory that we live, it is for their glory we would die.^"

"^We must bring back children into this world!^" His voice boomed through the caves, a deep man's voice, and his thoughts resonated in their minds with a strength and intensity never felt before. "^We must love our mate, and with hope and faith, bring new life into this world. While the Novans hear only misery from their children's mouths, their cries shall be as music to our ears. Their needs be a reminder of the true purpose in life; to regenerate, to renew. Tonight should be for that purpose, to renew our race, to go out bearing the seed of a reborn Rell. Let us join in the Castiliad, and find truth.^"

They knelt their heads down, creating the root structure of the Boolin in their minds. Arciss projected it onto the buried tree near the village, and in moments, it began to build. Associations of families, conversations, co-workers, perceptions of faith, of lessons from the Kal-Durrell, they all formed the basis for this Boolin. They felt these leaves spring from that tree, felt the branches of their Boolin pulse with energy. The newly renewed bonds of love and friendship, their commitment, unspoken, to follow Arciss's suggestions and venture out into Rell, and leave their village behind. Their masks were lowered, and all their fears, all their anxieties were thrust into the light and dispelled within, for truth formed this Boolin.

As they finished, several droas later, they walked to the edge of their caverns, looking down on the village. Though most of it was still covered with snow, the tops of buildings finally breaking through, they could see a great crater, wide and deep, and in its center the real Boolin tree stood, strong and flowering, symbol of their renewed faith.

The people disbursed quickly, eager for a night of passion and rebirth. Arciss took Uonil aside, as Denre was speaking to a few people.

"Are you nervous about tonight?" he asked, his eyes betraying his concern.

"Possibly." Uonil wasn't nervous in the Castiliad, but now, alone, this night was all her mind could think of. Arciss grew serious, laying his hand on her shoulder, speaking to her as a brother might to a sister.

"Uonil, even in the Castiliad, where truth is meant to drive out the false, some things can be hidden."

She glanced at him sideways, growing concerned. "What do you mean?"

"I watched Denre in that experience, and I am convinced he is hiding something."

"What are you saying?!" she demanded growing defensive. "That I should stop seeing him?"

"What do you think? You are the Mentra."

^Not here, not now!^ She switched to cast, so others wouldn't hear, backing away from him. ^How dare you! I finally find some happiness, some joy, and you suggest I should end it, because of a feeling you have? I think this new role you find yourself in has gone to your head. And your success with Solti. You have had a life of pleasure, Arciss. This time is mine!^

Uonil felt the child within her rise, displacing the mature adult, demanding to have its needs met, its desires satisfied.

^Uonil, relax, and nest some reason,^ cast Arciss, trying to soothe her.

She struggled to maintain a calm demeanor as others walked by, smiling and waving.

^Arciss, tonight go your own way, and don't even think of me. I want this more than anything, right now, more than the success of our damned Kal-Alçon. Leave me!^

She walked over to Denre, who embraced and kissed her. Arciss looked on, shaking his head, as Solti took him by the hand.

"What's wrong, Arciss?" she asked.

"There are times desire can be stronger than even truth." Arciss thought for a moment of Graid. "Sometimes, our experiences can blind our minds to the obvious, no matter how intelligent we may be. It is as if we stand in the glow of the newly risen sun that blinds our eyes, yet swear it be darkest night. One only hopes a few rays of that light will pierce the darkness, and show a path to redemption."

She kissed him, long and deep. "Come, let us be alone."

While Arciss and Solti journeyed to a nearby cave, Denre sat with Uonil, both with a thick blanket over them, kissing lightly.

"Uonil, I know there is great pressure to do this, but I also know that we have only recently met, only recently have gotten to know each other. I would be content if you wanted to just sit, like this."

She caressed his face with her small, eager hands. "You are a sweet man. But I haven't wanted something this badly in a very long time."

He welcomed her reply, by kissing her along her neck, his lips cradling the muscles in her shoulders. They spent almost a droa, kissing and talking of lover's things, her passion growing more inflamed. Then he kissed her deeply, his tongue mingling with hers, and she moaned, like she never had before. She could feel her logical mind fading into the recesses of her consciousness, as her body became inflamed with desire. For so long she had wanted this surrender, this abandonment of logic, and responsibility. For droas more they kissed, growing closer and more inflamed with passion as night descended around them. As the fires danced around the cave, she felt him raise her shirt, running his hands along her back, and felt his strong, muscular arms embrace her. The heat of the fire, the coolness of the cave, the hard, dirt floor covered only by the skin of an animal, these things seemed right to her, for her first time. They lay down, his body on top of hers, his legs mingling with hers, as she felt his desire grow. Any inhibitions, any fear of rejection was long gone, as her breasts now lay exposed. His every touch, every tongue-trace was like an explosion in her mind, inflaming her lust. She pressed his head close to her chest, thinking how wonderful it was to have a man close to her, like this. She felt she could spend an eternity like this, having this man worship her. In the distance she could hear the groans of her people, consummating their love, banishing cas of misery and hopelessness into the night, conceiving of a new generation, born of their devotion. Their moans wove into the texture of the furs, into the skin of this man, now bare on her, as they lay naked with each other. She spread her legs, feeling him enter her. She heard of the pain, of this first time, and could have negated it with her mind, but she wanted to feel everything. He came in slowly, looking her in her eyes, telling her he would be patient. But she wanted it now, regardless of the pain. She brought him in quickly, and for a moment, screamed, biting into the fur blanket, holding back the tears. Then as he moved slowly, within her, her pleasure numbed the pain. She felt she could feel every wrinkle, every vein within him. She looked in his eyes, and felt she would give everything up, resign her position as Mentra, to have this pleasure again. He moved faster within her, and she could feel her tension building, feel her body expand, welcoming him inside. He moaned, and it was the most beautiful thing she ever heard. She moaned with him, her muscles tightening, her mind being overwhelmed with a new sensation, like ecstasy, building, rising from her center, through her breasts, up in her neck. She couldn't wait, she wanted this climax, this resolution to this tension. She pulled him in harder, and he obliged, sweat dripping on her face, a slickness on her breasts and stomach. She clenched into his back, feeling the moment was near.

No!

The blade was close, its point at her chest, resting between two of her ribs.

No!

He tried and tried to push it in, but her mind was too strong. He was still within her, but he felt dirty to her now, and all she wanted was to be rid of him.

^What are you?!^

She invaded his mind, disabling the traps, breaking through the defenses with a speed he could not anticipate. He was a TELREC, planted long ago, in her hometown, in anticipation of an opportunity just such as this.

She began to cry, her fury building inside her. Denre could see the eyes of lust turn to murder. The knife dropped out of his hand, as he felt his mind burn. She disabled his speech center, then crushed him in the most painful way she knew how. To another, he looked to be in the throes of ecstasy. But in moments, he was dead, collapsing on top of her.

How could I have been so foolish?!

She lay there for a while, unable to even move his body off of her. The sounds, the thoughts of the others in the cave, copulating, made her nauseous, and finally she managed to push his body off her. She sat up, looking down at this thing that was Denre, shrouded mostly in the darkness of midnight, only his face illuminated in the fading cavern fires. He didn't look evil, or angry to her. He didn't even look Novan.

He just looks pathetic and small.

Uonil absently threw on a robe, and pulled her blanket with her to the side of the cave, away from the people. There she huddled in a ball, her arms around her knees, and sobbed off and on for the rest of the night. Never before had she killed someone, at least directly.

I have ordered the deaths of so many, not even knowing their names. Martel killed many TELREC agents, Arciss has even seen some combat. But I have always been safe, in my chair, behind a desk and a window, weak but effective barriers against the reality of war. Her eyes stayed focused on his feet, half-expecting him to regain consciousness, to twitch some part of him. But he lay, still and quiet, the life gone long ago. So this is how it feels to murder someone, to take their life. For a few moments, I had such anger, wanted such vengeance. And now that I've had it, it seems so hollow. So empty. I wish I had the chance to question him, to nest all those things I pried from his mind. To ask him how he could do this to me. She knew it was naive even thinking his way, but she couldn't help it. She let her recent experiences seep into her consciousness as night turned to roa, searching for the truth and meaning in them. Someone sat next to her, just as the sky was starting to brighten in the morning.

"Are you alright?"

It was Arciss. She lifted her head up slowly, her neck sore and tight, and clutched onto him, sobbing anew in his arms.

"You were right, I'm so sorry, you were right! How could I have been so stupid? He almost killed me! I would have done anything for him—"

^Calm down, Uonil, and cast to me.^

She did, leading back against the cave wall. ^You're right, I'm just not thinking. I haven't been able to think since I met him.^

^Uonil.^ He held her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. ^You are young, maybe not in body, but in the wisdom of the world. You acted as any other woman would have, as any man would have, in your place. You have wanted this for so long, and have never experienced the power of passion. You once told me Graid chastised you for this lack of knowledge, and he was right. One is almost powerless against one's own heart, against one's own body. As you rightly said, you are not the Mentra here, you are just Uonil, a beautiful girl, who had her first love.^

^But it wasn't real.^ She looked over at his body. ^It was all to tempt me, to influence me.^

^You think Mentras are the only ones to be treated like this? Lust has been confused for love by many a people. Infidelity and manipulation go hand in hand with the mention of sex.^

^But I should have known better, Arciss, I should have kept my mind focused, and aware,^ she cast quickly, becoming upset again. ^I should have kept him at a distance, and—^

^Maybe, in the future, you will be able to do those things, but it will only be as a detriment to your heart. You can't blame yourself for living, Uonil. You are also not the first not to have listened to the advice of a friend.^

As more light spilled into the cave, Denre's body could be seen more clearly. He seemed so big, last night, on top of me. Now he looks so small, and I wonder how he could have had such an effect on me.

^I think the thing that pains me most, is that he didn't even use any coercion on me. He wasn't some genetically engineered being crafted in the arts of seduction; he didn't use some piece of technology to bend my will to his—he didn't even exert mental pressure on me! I fell for him, on my own.^

^You have more respect for the intricacies of passion and the souman heart now, don't you?^

Uonil tightened her lips, and took a hard swallow, trying to take a deep breath. ^Yes. Graid was right to immerse himself in the Novan ways.^ She leaned back, feeling the weight of being a mature woman settle on her shoulders. ^Or he would have been felled as easily as I was, and our people along with him.^

Arciss hugged her close, wishing he could do more for her, but knowing she needed to work through this, on her own.

^How did you know to come here, now?^ she asked, tuning to him.

^I wasn't that far from you, physically and mentally. I would have been here, if you needed me.^

Uonil thought on his words, on his kindness. ^Where is Solti?^

^Sleeping peacefully. And happy.^

Uonil smiled at him. ^I'm glad at least you found some comfort here.^

^Don't let Denre ruin this time for you. Much has happened here, that should still warm your heart. You have rediscovered your mother, your community, the place where you began. Graid will never find those things.^

^Yes. I know. Thank you for being here.^

^I am your friend, Uonil. I will always be there for you, always at your side, should you ever need me.^

Uonil couldn't express how much that meant to her, how much easier her job would be, knowing she could depend on him with such absolute certainty.

I will get over this, and it will only make me stronger.

The new roa dawned to much activity on the mountainside. Possessions were loaded and tied to wagons, the beasts to draw them tracked and brought back to the caves. Laughter resounded through the walls, gentle conversation punctuated the morning stillness. Most of Averil was revealed to them, though the roads were still snow covered. Some hard work was ahead, clearing away the remaining snow, but it promised to be a good roa. Most stopped by the new carving before they headed down the slope to etch their initials under it. Arciss and Solti were the last to leave, inscribing a date under their initials. Uonil was quiet most of the morning, and Arciss walked beside her as they made their way down the summit.

"You have many things on your mind?" he asked.

She laughed. "That would be an understatement."

"And I'll bet none of it has to do with the Kal-Alçon, the Cuhli-pra, the Novans or the TELREC, does it?"

She stood in place, the shock hitting her. She looked at him, and burst into great laughter. He laughed with her, holding her close.

"You truly have changed, Arciss! And to think I didn't want you to come with me."

"I know you didn't. But I felt I needed to be here, away from all that, for a little while. I guess I found much of myself here. Who knew I was waiting for myself in a little village nestled between these mountains. Have you thought much on Denre?"

She nodded, as they moved on. "Yes. I've come to grips with the feelings I had for him. I guess I truly feel embarrassed to have been so easily manipulated. Graid was right, about so many things. The Novans have grown to be such different people, it was probably right for him to immerse himself in their culture. But now is the time for him to re-emerge, to come back to us."

"You remember when you were with Denre, how you would have given all of it up, just for him."

"Yes," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Then don't judge Graid too harshly! He just needs a spark, something major to happen in his life, to set him back on the right path."

"I felt that Martel's death might have been that catharsis, but I was wrong."

"Were you? I see that it has affected him more and more with each passing roa. Some things don't change a person in an instant, it affects them gradually, changing them in ways they didn't think possible, wearing down their defenses. We must stand united, with him, yet against him, to bring his heart and soul back to us."

"What of us?" she asked, stopping to face him in the snow.

"For now, you are Uonil, and I am Arciss. But once we leave these slopes, you will be the Mentra, and I the Steward. I will always treasure our time here, Uonil. I will never betray your trust, and I will always be there for you."

"Thank you, Arciss. What of Solti?"

"We made each other happy, for a time. But she has work to do, along with the others."

"Do you think they will be able to impact our people?" she asked, looking back at the long lines of them stretching back through the snow.

"I am sure of it! When the Ascension comes, and the Novan people are bound in chaos and anarchy, we shall all be united, a people of one faith, of great compassion, and we will stand willing and able to help them, not conquer them, to go about unifying our people once again, but this time, forever after."

Uonil's mother came up beside them. Arciss nodded to her out of respect, and began to move off.

"I'll leave you two ladies now."

Ellae gave Uonil a long, deep hug, feeling the pain and anger within her.

"He is a good man, daughter."

"Thank you, mother."

Ellae hesitated a bit, unused to speaking with her daughter about tough issues, or sad times.

"I am sorry about Denre."

"Such are the perils of my position. But in his betrayal, I found great friendship, and love, and for that, I am eternally grateful."

Ellae brightened, proud of Uonil's maturity and resilience.

"I have never seen you this happy!" she cried, hugging her again. "I have never been this happy. Or content. I wish you didn't have to leave. But I understand it. I hope you do, as well."

"Yes, mother. I could not shirk my duty, my responsibility to our people. Too much is at stake. You know, there is much I cannot tell you, but I will say that I never expected to be here, never expected to find this peace. I must thank the Kal-Durrell, for surely, they must have had a hand in this."

"Truly, my daughter. We are having an incorporation ceremony, where some will restate their vows, others, like myself and Ulidric, will become one."

"Mother! I am so happy for you."

"Thank you. Will you come?"

Uonil thought on all that waited for her, back on Rellcine, all the reports on Kolob, and Nahlai. Then she thought of Arciss.

"I will always be there for you, mother. It would give me great joy to see this."

They embraced, and stood for a while looking at their people wind down the path, entering their village, as the sun broke over the summit ahead. After seeing so much that her people and the Novans could foul and pollute, it filled her heart with great nourishment to see a people happy, and hopeful.

I feel as though, somehow, Arciss has begun a journey for our people that will spiritually and physically renew them. I, and those on Rellcine may fight for their survival, but they must live and grow, thrive and prosper. We must have something to return to, should we prevail.

Chapter 13

Catalyst: ship used by Mechle Rulsi in her journey around Celd. Was believed destroyed in the civil war on Celd-2 between Rell and Novan settlers, less than sixty cas after her death.

It had been a long time since Suld felt fear.

His shuttle had just completed the swing-around of Dulx, Novan's second moon, settling into the brief journey to Novan, on an emergency rendezvous with Theia. The slight jostling the craft suffered for a short while vanished, smoothing out, making one forget the extreme velocity the craft was traveling at. But Suld knew. He could feel everything, had felt everything, since Theia's last cast.

Suld! Most of my Coss are captured, and dead. My cells have all been attacked, and eradicated. Come quickly, I need you.

The buckle on the seat restraint felt cold on his hand. The air was a little stale, with one of the filters malfunctioning slightly. The seat needed to be upholstered, as there was some wear in the cushions beneath him. His drink was a little warm, and—

I need you.

She had been on his mind more and more lately, her face, her cast playing over and over in his mind. He had been in love a couple of times since the death of his wife, or what he thought was love. Theia was different. Even though she had committed atrocities against the TELREC and even the Novan people, even though she didn't possess the intelligence or refinement of his people on Gan-Elldon, even with a body that looked more like an overused weapon, she had something that intrigued him, some combination of strength and weakness, impulsiveness and caution that made his strong heart beat a little stronger, that made him anxious and impatient on this journey he was now taking.

What am I doing?

Gan-Elldon was on the highest alert possible. All his people had been mobilized for combat—all meta that had been changed and altered were activated, their weaponry checked. He recalled many of his oreships, off loading cargo, bringing their upgraded armament on-line. As he left to cesct with Theia, his fleet had swelled to eighteen-hundred fighters and oreships in orbit around the moon of Gan-Elldon.

If they want a fight, I'll give them one.

But it was the TELREC mental weaponry that concerned him the most. The meta may have been invulnerable, but his people, on the moon and on his ships, did not have adequate protection. He had many cast-suppression systems, but he knew the TELREC had many surprises, many talents.

This could be the end of my people, my corporation. This could be the end of me. No one can hold out against the strength of the TELREC, not mentally. The TELREC know now I helped the Iganinagi. Everything I have cast to any of them, they now know.

Though he had been preparing his people for a fight with the TELREC, it was more of a final contingency. He always hoped to affect a revolution on Novan, to make the people rise up and demand their freedom. He had some of his scientists researching new and better mental protection, but it was untested against the TELREC. Never before had their forces engaged in combat. Suld fidgeted in his seat, adjusting his harness, taking another drink, the cool liquid numbing his throat but not his fevered mind.

I am stronger than this! I have been through too much to have fear now.

Suld relaxed, clasping his hands together, closing his eyes. He went through his mind, back through all his experiences, all the adversity he triumphed over.

What did that meta say? Who did Ikthon mention . . . ahh . . . Mechle Rulsi. Now she was amazing.

Throughout Suld's life, he drew inspiration and strength from the records of his ancestors. Experiencing virt-lives they made of some of their most important moments gave Suld a keen insight into their thought processes, the way in which they handled stress. From the launch of the Envoys into the heart of the galaxy to the first roas of the creation of OLMAC, he loved to relax and live a part of their lives.

Mechle Rulsi, and her first trip around Celd. The first bold step into the void. That must have been a frightening, yet exciting moment. Suld loaded the appropriate files into a cast-net server, and relaxed in his chair, accessing her life. Let me draw on some of your strength.

It was the cas 1865, and science had taken many quantum leaps. Nano-technology cured many diseases, fusion reactors were diminishing in size, becoming safe enough for regular use. Information files were being traded mentally, as much progress was being made into researching the limits of the souman brain. Technology was developed that allowed the recording of mental experiences, the primitive virt-life Suld was now accessing.

The Novan-Rell conflict was in a particularly tense stage. Several Rell governors were assassinated, blown up with a primitive emdec bomb. Though a radical splinter group claimed responsibility, the Leviathan refused to issue a statement of condemnation. This resulted in the suspension of cease-fire agreements signed fifty cas prior. Both sides began acceleration of their weapons programs, as the rhetoric in the media grew to a fever pitch.

Rulsi was the head of an asteroid mining company called RED (Rulsi Extraction and Demolition), an early fragment of OLMAC. While the cease-fire was in place she opened her doors to Rell scientists, and together they worked on creating a new energy shield for use around a voidship. This shield not only provided protection against interstellar matter, it also helped convert neutrinos into fuel for a revolutionary new engine. It was the first ship designed to go at .2c, and she knew it would revolutionize not only void travel, but the entire way of life on Iq as well. After hostilities broke out anew and the Leviathan demanded the Rell scientists leave Novan territory, Rulsi promised the Rell scientists she would honor their work, and would launch the ship, its goal being the first manned orbit of the largest planet in the Iquitian system, the gas-giant Celd.

The launch was done in relative secrecy, as threats of terrorism from both sides were of concern. Extremist Novan factions desired to destroy the work that was a result of the collaboration between Novan and Rell. Mal was still in its infancy, and the TELREC, known as TL Reconstructs, were still mostly scientists and mathematicians, with little power or resources, Mal still a primitive collection of computers.

In front of a small building on the outskirts of a RED mining complex, a small silver and black craft sat, dark and low. In moments it took off like thunder, under its own power, with no booster rockets, a form of electro-magnetism giving it invisible momentum through the atmosphere. It was thought that a meta pilot was at the helm, but in the first few moments after liftoff, the identity of the pilot became known as she relayed her status to the control room.

"We have a steady burn."

Mission control technicians turned to each other, wondering who was speaking. On the main monitor, the pilot swung up her protective visor, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman.

"Rulsi? Damn you!"

Gant, her launch operations manager, bolted to his feet, and yelled at the monitor. Though he respected Rulsi as a shrewd businesswoman, he disliked her penchant for grandstanding. An older man who had seen his share of arrogant pilots and pompous politicians, some part of him crumbled inside seeing her in the seat of the Catalyst, a craft that represented the life's work of so many.

"What are you doing in there? This isn't some joyride around a moon!"

"Don't worry, Gant," she cooed with a light chuckle. "I have a thousand droas of training under my belt, done in secret."

Grumbling under his breath, he absently thumbed through mission status reports. "Where's the thrael?"

"Deactivated, but not damaged. It can fly the next mission. I wasn't going to sit by and let a machine be the first one to orbit Celd."

Acceptance began to settle in on Gant's face. She could see him mentally reviewing the changes he would need to make.

"Preparing next stage." Her voice strained as the craft accelerated, and she felt the strong embrace of the planet's gravitational field begging her back. The craft pressed on, noiselessly slicing through clouds, leaving the atmosphere and entering the cold embrace of the void.

"But thrael are expendable. You are not."

Rulsi's face grew serious and firm. "I want responsibility for this. If it fails, I fail. If this craft is destroyed, I go with it. This craft represents the glory of souman creation. A souman must pilot it."

Gant sat back in his chair, appreciating her perspective, hope and a passionate fire returning to his wrinkled face.

"Understood. Now, let's get to work!"

Rulsi smiled in the monitor. "Agreed! I want to get back in one piece, and lead my victory parade."

Over the next two droas, several hundred system checks were done, as the craft neared the orbit of Dulx. Suld could almost feel the craft occupied the same space then as he did now. He could feel Rulsi's adrenaline pumping, her mind working every til to dispel the fear that threatened to consume her. She could have taken one of a hundred different kinds of pills designed to calm the mind and focus the intellect, but she preferred to make the journey without drugs, by the force of her will.

The barrier the ship used had limited tests in the void, as its development was only just completed before the Novan/Rell cease fire ended. There were many terrorist incidents, and it was felt they had to rely solely on computer data as an indicator of success. Many people had sacrificed many cas in its development, many of the advances made would later be used in the development of inter-brane travel. Rulsi, though only somewhat experienced in the field of physics, was the prime motivator behind them all. She set the direction, issued her scientists challenges, made clear and strong decisions regarding the shield development. Without her, they would have been mired in committees, a group of great minds unable to focus. She gave them that focus, and promised the rewards would be wealth and success beyond their imaginings.

In the craft dubbed Catalyst Rulsi was cramped, unable to move more than an inch in any direction. Catalyst was the size of a small building, standing four stories high, thick and bulbous with massive, redundant solid propellant engines taking up much of the space. The neutrino accelerator that was the core of the ship was quite small in comparison, as well as the three gravipulse reactors that powered the ship out of the atmosphere. Rulsi knew once these engines had proven themselves, in addition to the barrier, void travel would undergo a revolution in size and affordability. She switched on her comm system, switching to a secure channel.

"Are we ready?"

On the other end, two women and a man appeared, all with varying shades of grey hair and deep wrinkles.

"Almost," they answered. "We have tapped into the Novan communication network, but the Rell network has more safeguards than we anticipated."

"How long?"

"We will have it done, by the time promised." Her voice was as stone, echoed in the eyes of those with her. Rulsi depended on those three more than anyone else in her life. They stood by her as her company grew; they were the brains who solved all manner of technical and scientific problems. Two were Novan, and one was a Rell named Culvill. Culvill hid her beliefs, against Rulsi's better judgment, deciding souman progress was more important than strict adherence to faith. If they were caught now, doing this, it would mean certain death, execution in front of a planet-wide audience. Suld was always amazed at how well she coordinated the broadcast of her journey around the planet, a bold step that contributed greatly to the success of her company. Rulsi nodded to them, sinking back into her chair, feeling a little more relaxed.

"Good." She switched to her main comm channel. "Ready for exit of Novan family system. Preparing to initiate startup of shield dynamics and neutrino accelerator. Powering down main fusion reactors."

"Affirmative," replied Gant. "Remember the shield system will heat the craft up the more you use it. We predict a balance can be achieved whereby you can vent this energy into the void, but it will mean a sacrifice of the shield integrity. The hotter it gets—"

"Yes, I know, the quicker my main engines will wear out." She clicked her teeth, an expression that always irritated Gant, but that signaled Rulsi meant business. "Stop worrying! We had the best workers on the construction of this craft. I believe in it, and in them."

Gant nodded. "Gravipulse engines nearing end of effectiveness. Initiating final burst, then cool down and shut down procedures."

The engines pulsed, making the pressure from takeoff seem like a casual push to Rulsi. Novan faded behind her to a pinpoint in those three tils, as fear took her spirit for a moment. As they stopped, and switched off, Rulsi felt truly alone, with only blackness surrounding her, her craft almost noiseless.

"Control to Catalyst, do you copy?"

Rulsi took a moment to compose herself; the confidence returning to her mind and body.

"Affirmative."

Gant's face relaxed, and some cheers went up from the team behind him.

"Now comes the moment we all have been waiting for. Beginning shield dynamics countdown. Ten—"

Rulsi adjusted her harness, tightening it, placing her feet better on the floor.

"Nine—"

She double checked her navigational computer, flashing through the co ordinates.

"Eight . . . Seven . . . Six—"

Rulsi tuned to a holo-imager, and flipped through the faces of her family, her children.

"Five . . . four . . . three . . ."

Rulsi closed her eyes, and said a short prayer.

What I do, I do for the good of all Iqui, Rell and Novan alike.

"Two . . . one . . . Engage!"

Around her the crackle of energy could be heard, and on her screen, it detailed the creation of the shield barrier. Gant read off the status of the various systems.

"We have perimeter established . . . conversion beginning . . . we have neutrino critical point approaching. Neutrino accelerator coming online, critical conversion point imminent!"

The tension in his voice grew stronger as the craft's systems switched on. The last thing he wanted was to lose the craft, and as he was slowly realizing, he and many others couldn't do without Rulsi. The Catalyst slowly moved forward, almost imperceptibly at first, then growing exponentially with each passing til.

"We have point zero zero one five c . . . point zero zero eight . . . point zero zero nine five."

Rulsi felt slow, her body reacting somewhat to the gradual acceleration, but more to the increase in heat and vibration. The air felt close, the craft, shaking more and more the faster she went.

"Point zero one c . . . point zero five . . . point zero eight five c—"

The tension in mission control was in the air, every one glued to their screens, their fists clenched, hoping, praying the craft would make it.

"Rulsi!"

If she weren't buckled down as much as she was, she would have jumped. It was coming through on her private comm channel.

"Yes?" Her voice shook as her body was being shaken more and more violently.

"We have all networks coming on line!" yelled Culvill, unable to contain her excitement. "You are live to the entire planet!"

Rulsi clenched her fist.

"Yes!"

She could feel some blood coming from her nose, but that news made everything right to her. She tried in vain to wipe it off. Gant appeared on her monitor.

"Gant, put on your best face, we are live across the whole of Iq!"

"Did you say we are live across the planet?" he asked, stunned.

"Yes, Gant. And every colony on the three moons."

He took a moment to look down at the displays. "We have just broken point one c!"

Cheers loud and quick exploded in the control center. Rulsi appeared on the screen.

"For all the people of Iq and the surrounding colonies, my name is Mechle Rulsi. I am piloting a craft that has just broken point one c, the fastest craft ever created! This craft was created not only by Novan scientists but with great input by Rell scientists, making it a joint effort between our two peoples, at a time when we seem to be headed inevitably again into war.

Reluctantly Gant interrupted. "You are now at point one three c . . . point one five c . . ."

The craft shuddered even harder, noise building around her. Her fear came back a little, but she hid it on screen.

"I will pilot this craft around Celd," continued Rulsi, "showing that planetary travel is now a reality. We will herald in a new age of void travel, venturing places we only dreamed of!"

In the command center, transmissions were coming in from hundreds of government agencies, officials, and concerned citizens. One informed them that a Novan battalion was advancing on their location, to forcibly shut them down.

"Point one eight c!"

Gant yanked up a microphone.

"You are almost there, Rulsi, almost there!" he screamed into it, the feedback distorting his voice. "Once you hit point two c, we can engage the transfer system, and bring it under control."

Under control, such a sweet dream.

"Understood."

The time slowed for her, as she took one deep breath after another. The craft was shaking so hard, she almost lost consciousness several times, only staying awake through sheer force of will. Sweat was drenching her, her clothes, spilling onto the floorboard below. Outside her window the shield was becoming visible, the heat from within glowing in the frigid expanse of the void. She heard Gant's voice, as if in a dream.

"Point one nine c . . . point two c!"

The control room exploded in cheers and shouts, the engineers jumping to their feet and embracing one another. Around the planet, more and more people stopped what they were doing and tuned into the broadcast. For a people used to proclamations of war, statements of aggression and notifications of disasters, the sight of the control room erupting in cheers, of a woman focused on creating something good, those images could not be resisted. The craft rocketed through the void, so fast telescopes couldn't track it, igniting hope in a billion people. For the next two droas the media converged on the control room, the battalion sent to stop them called back, lest the Leviathan look worse than it already did. Rulsi did a hundred system checks, balancing the expulsion of heat with the integrity of the shield. She drank through more than half her water supply, dowsing her face with the increasingly warm water. As Celd came into view—a small, baseball sized object now, she connected again to her home, her world, and gave one of the most significant speeches in the history of the planet. Suld knew every word by heart, but enjoyed nesting it again and again.

"There are those who would like to map our future, predict every great event with absolute certainty, reduce our souman essence to so many equations calculated by machines. They would rob us of our vibrancy, diminish our senses and dull our creativity. They would reduce advancement to purely the physical; attempting to genetically engineer our species through mating habits and selection, content if we were to sit by passively as they work. I can hear them, see them use technology to ensnare our people, lull them into a deep slumber, use technology merely to replay great and joyous moments past, convincing us we can never match the past, that we should be content to relive it. It is said our children will no longer learn, that concepts and facts will be 'downloaded' into their minds, giving them all the intelligence they would need for their lives in a short period of time. This would be intelligence, not wisdom! This craft was built by men and women who spent a lifetime leaning new concepts, taking risks with new and different formulas. They understood that wisdom comes about over time, and it is a jewel of achievement. Children brought up with such an education via download would have no concept of work, no concept of laboring towards an unknown goal. They would never forget what they would learn, nor would they appreciate the value of having it. It would be a level playing field with no one different than another; a communism of education. One of the joys of learning is finding out what you are not good at. A fertile mind searches until it finds an area that interests it, and then the hunger for knowledge begins. If you would deprive our children of the journey of learning, you would deprive them of that hunger, deprive them of desire. You would reduce this world to pleasure seekers, hungry only for something new, quick, and different."

In her screen Celd grew larger and larger, filling her viewable area. She spoke louder, over the noise of the craft.

"On our world, we live as a people divided. No longer along racial lines, for already time has begun the homogenization of our races. Soon, no longer along intellectual lines, for we all will be given the same basic intellect. But we are divided along religious lines. One calls the other evil, and the other responds in kind. Both seek to eradicate the other, through any means necessary, as there are no innocents. Can no one see the aftermath of such a conflict? Homogenization of religion? Everyone looking the same, thinking the same, worshiping the same? We should value the differences between us, cherish the different perspectives we offer one another. It is only through this that imagination is fed, that the mind creates new and brilliant things. Novans and Rell worked on this ship, each bringing their own perspectives, and look what we did! Together we will herald in a brilliant future, one of exploration. Let us not only explore the void, and time, but ourselves. I challenge the governments of Rell and Novan to end the conflict here, on this roa, let us go forward together, people on one world, sharing our strengths, and helping in our weaknesses."

"Sometimes luck brings about change. As many know, I won one of our lotteries. I was nobody special, had no unique talents. But when I won that money, those thirty cas ago, it ignited something within me. All those subjects I dreamed of learning, I made it my mission to master. And I did. I started with a bankrupt company that made pleasure voidcraft, and built it into the largest asteroid mining company in history. Did I stop? No. I recruited the best minds I could find, and each roa, they challenged me, and I challenged them. Why do I say this? Because one must recognize opportunity, risk be damned!"

"Rulsi, you must begin final check to orbit Celd."

"My people, I will now orbit Celd, the first person to do so. Don't let me be the last."

She focused back on her craft, working with control over the next fifteen mroas to reconfigure the barrier and the engines. She was going to make a slingshot orbit around the massive gas giant, one that would guarantee her trip home. For a moment, as she was waiting for a system check to finish, she looked out the cockpit of her craft. Celd loomed large in front of her, so large she could no longer see any horizon line. The colors were brilliant and clear, bands of atmosphere swirling beneath her, massive storms of gas igniting plumes that sprayed out. She absently ran her fingers over a small pouch on her chest.

Why do I think of suicide? The pouch had a suicide pill, quick and sure. Suld welled with emotion as he relived her thoughts, amazed she would have actually contemplated such a thing. I won't die, I can't die! This world needs too much from me, and I will not let it down.

"Rulsi?" asked Gant.

She cleared her throat, steadying her nerves. "Yes. Ready."

"Re-orient shield balance."

"Done."

"Ready for five til burst?"

"Ready."

"In ten . . .nine . . ."

Here I am, alone, orbiting a planet a hundred times the size of my own, about to burn my way through its atmosphere. And thirty cas ago I sat around, dreaming of a future now pale and lonely to me.

"Seven . . .six . . .five—"

She turned her hands up, the gloves charred a little from the extreme heat on the metal controls. Her body felt it was near its breaking point, and even if she survived the orbit around Celd, she didn't know if she would make it back.

I will . . . I must!

"Three . . . two . . . one . . . ignite!"

She activated the engines, and the planet beneath her gradually fell to her right side. The craft shook more violently than ever before, flames building up around the shield. Her cockpit now was turned away from the planet, as the glass was the weakest point. The horizon line of Celd rose gradually as she felt her craft was losing its battle with gravity.

"Rulsi! You're losing your orbit level. Increase your burn time!"

"Understood."

Her hands were heavy as she tried to manipulate the controls. The gravity of the world was immense, and the heat grew more intense beneath her. She had to activate the screens on her cockpit, as the light from the flames around her had become blinding.

Next time we need to put in more heat shielding. I'm not some damned thrael.

"Control one . . . activated. Balance sensors . . . positive. Burn time extended ten tils."

The displays showed her craft still sinking lower, but it had slowed considerably. She had another thirty tils until she would break orbit, and it seemed like an eternity to her.

Back on Iq, the whole world watched in silence. Satellites in orbit past Celd relayed a near pitch black cabin, filled with the heavy breathing of Rulsi. Both those of Rell and Novan faith bowed in prayers, as almost every person on that world hoped for her success. It seemed like an eternity to them, and to her, as the craft burned a path around Celd. In the cockpit, Rulsi felt her soul face its greatest challenge.

I sit here in the darkness, the only light coming from the instruments in front of me, no knowing if I will live or die in the next few moments. Do I live, and validate the hopes and dreams of so many, or do I die, and their future with me? For the first time in my life I feel a loss of control. Some I know would pray to Holis, or to Kal, hoping their faith in those intangibles would see them through. I must fall back on my faith of the souman being, faith in the creativity and ingenuity of those who created this ship. It is by their power I fly through the void, it is behind their protection that I shall not die!

She closed her eyes, thinking on all those who worked with her through the past twenty cas, finding peace and calm in their faces. For a few moments she forgot about the heat and the darkness, the violent shudders that were slowly tearing her craft apart. For a few moments she felt as a part of the universe in a way she never had before, part of an immense symphony of chaos and order, balance and distortion. There were no barriers around her, no seat under her, no metal hull encasing her within. She felt like her consciousness was part of the void, and though it was insignificant in size, it still mattered.

"Rulsi, open your cockpit window!"

She did, and saw the planet moving behind her. A small sun beckoned ahead, small and faint, but one of the most beautiful things she ever saw.

No sound has been more played than the yell Rulsi gave at that moment. It was a primal scream, her face contorted in unbelievable joy. And as she screamed, the entire Iquitian world and all its colonies screamed with her, cheering her name, celebrating her victory. Suld replayed that moment many times in his mind, feeling the relief within her, the excitement, and joy.

She was such a marvelous woman, such a pioneer! thought Suld. How can I feel fear, when she was out there, alone, nothing but a rickety ship between her and the violence and harshness of the void and Celd?.

^Sir,^ cast his pilot, ^we are about to enter the Novan atmosphere.^

Suld felt the mental image of Rulsi fade in his mind, as he returned to matters of the present.

^Thank you.^

Rulsi, you strived to save all our people, pull them out of the grips of war, gave them hope. You felt the strength of the TELREC, could see into the future that has now become. I fight for our people also, will use everything at my disposal to wake them from their slumber, re-ignite the passion that drives men and women.

His ship descended through the Novan atmosphere, its shield glowing red hot from the friction of descent, but steady and sure, a far cry from the ship Rulsi piloted. Suld was startled out of his musings on Rulsi by an incoming cast.

^Suld.^

It was Pirld, a senior representative in the TELREC, a man Suld had dealt with many times before, a man Suld had been expecting a cast from.

Here it comes.

^Yes?^

^We have some information about you,^ he cast flatly. ^Information that disturbs us.^

All the subservience is gone. I'll bet I can nest a taste of gloating in his cast.

^And?^ asked Suld indignantly.

^We will not tolerate insurrection.^

Suld relaxed, and focused in on Pirld, bringing clarity and immediacy to his image in his mind.

^I am not some little terrorist group, operating in the shadows. Nor am I some splinter Leviathan committee, whose army is but a few spies. I am OLMAC; the largest corporate entity this planet has ever known. To fight me, is to risk almost civil war, and that war would weaken you tremendously in the face of the Rell threat.^

Pirld arrogantly chuckled. ^We have been preparing for battle for countless millennia, how long have you? Our agents are trained in mental combat you could not imagine. Your ships may be powerful, your shields strong, but your people are weak compared to ours, and would fall noiselessly, and simply.^

Suld leaned back. ^What do you want?^

^Turn over all control of OLMAC to us. We will take over Gan-Elldon, and all satellites and ships under your control. You may still live on the planet, but will have no influence.^

Suld thought of Rulsi streaking above the Celdian sky, shrouded in blackness, waiting for the light of the sun to herald her triumph.

I am entering that dark side now. I struggle, not knowing how things will turn out. And I am matched against a computer that may know the future. I must have faith in myself, in my people on Gan-Elldon, even in the untested meta who would save a people not their own. Like you Rulsi, I believe in no Holis. I believe in the greatness of the souman.

^Then let the fires of battle scorch and burn you, TELREC. I will never submit, and neither will the Novan people!^

Suddenly, Suld was thrown around his ship, as he could hear his ship's barrier crackle under emdec fire.

^Goodbye, Suld.^

Suld fell to the floor, as the ship started to spin.

^Pilot!^

He could hear one of the engines was no longer functioning. Suld tried to get up, but one of his legs failed him.

Damn! It feels broken.

He couldn't sense the pilot's mind.

Must be dead. I've got to move . . .

The craft spun more violently and Suld knew he must regain control, or it would break up in the atmosphere. He pulled himself towards the cockpit, holding onto a railing for his life. The craft started a spinning nosedive, and if not for the still functioning NnuG generator, he would have been dead.

Just a little further.

Suld finally made it to the door separating his compartment from the pilot. He manually opened it, and saw the body of the pilot sprawled on the floor, the Window of the World looming large before him, colored in the yellow flames enveloping the barrier. His body was still in shock from his fall, his mind wanting to shut down.

Come on, it isn't that bad, come on.

It took three tries for him to make it into the pilot's chair, concentrating on ignoring the pain in his leg. After manually resetting the controls, the ship started to level off. It was then that he felt the mental attack hit him.

They are serious this time.

He almost blacked out, with the combination of the pain and their attack. He had been expecting it, and had many defenses in his mind up. It was still intense, and seemed to intensify with each passing moment.

I must lose them—got to get distance between us.

Suld found the mental link with the ship's controls was damaged, so he began to pilot the craft manually.

I'll be no match for them! My reaction time will be slower; I'm already at a disadvantage with one of the engines gone. Got to think, and stay calm. Maybe I could at least level the playing field.

Suld deployed several cast-suppression meta, that circled his ship and greatly nullified the TELREC attack.

At least I can think now.

Suld knew he could always head back into the void—the TELREC ships were not designed for extended void travel. But he promised to meet Theia.

And I always keep my promises.

The ships behind him began firing on him again, weakening his barrier. The opening through to Core faded behind him, limiting his options for landing on Novan, as Topside offered no options for concealment.

Why can't I concentrate! He hadn't felt this confused, this powerless, in a very long time. He looked at one of his monitors, showing the three TELREC crafts pursuing him. I know those ships . . . they're Novan-based. That means, they have never been on Malhrer. I own them!

Suld laughed to himself, and realized in a moment what was happening to him.

The damn TELREC mind manipulation. They are stronger than I thought. And so am I.

The ships following him were built by OLMAC, the guidance and computer system designed and built by OLMAC. Ships built on Malhrer were one thing, but all ships built by OLMAC were meant to be accessed by OLMAC personnel at any time, and Suld had all the necessary codes in his mind. In moments, he accessed their navigation systems, and sent them up into the stratosphere, where the pilots suffocated and died in the void. Suld reset his navigation system to rendezvous with Theia, and sat back, calming himself.

That was too close. Fear is the greatest weapon the TELREC have—fear of the future, fear of progress, fear of ourselves, fear of the unknown. I must capitalize on this, and find some way to turn it against them. Soon, the Envoys shall return from their great trek through the stars, bringing hope for some, and fear to others.

In moments, his shuttle descended through the Window of the World, into the grey landscape of Core. Sky traffic was thick, slowing Suld's progress, but in that time Suld was able to repair his broken leg, and move the pilot's body somewhere more discreet.

He was one of my most dependable pilots. Never had he questioned my word, never second-guessed my directions. Great men who die in the field of battle may be mourned by many, but sometimes the less important ones hurt even more.

After a time he descended again, down through an opening into the upper part of Foundation. Suld took the ship down through an abandoned service port, easing it down manually, keeping a steady eye on ten different proximity sensors. Suld quickly remembered how unwieldy these craft were in close spaces without fly-by-mind piloting. He resorted to firing his solid-propellant thrusters, making a lot of noise and smoke, but cushioning his landing at a small port cluttered with debris and very little light.

As he exited the ship, limping a little as his leg was still sore and tender, he saw Theia emerge from the shadows, a little thinner, and visibly worried.

^I came as soon as I could,^ he cast.

^I know. Thank you. You had some trouble?^

Suld looked back at his ship with her. It stood proudly, the dim light gleaming on its surface, appearing to be not even scratched by the emdec fire.

^A trio of TELREC pursuit ships. They had me concerned for a while, but I dealt with them.^

Theia looked down, seeing him favoring one leg, knowing he had to have been through something serious. But she had other pressing issues.

^Good. I need to ask a favor.^

^Name it.^

^We need to try to save my Coss.^

^Theia . . . they're dead,^ he cast, a little in shock at her request. ^You know that.^

^No I don't.^ Her worry, her anger now rose to the surface, as she slammed her words on him. ^All my people say that, but I can't give up on them! Not if there's even a chance that they are still alive, I must try. And you must help me! You must!^

^Can't you see what's going on?^ asked Suld, almost pleading. ^I have my sources on Novan—many more than you. They tell me Denged is racing through this world like a plague, killing all who would stand against the TELREC, burning his conquests, wiping them from the memory of the globes. The TELREC themselves have authorized his actions, and those of his Maenids, to safeguard themselves and the Cuhli-pra. You fought him, Theia. You know of his power, of the ferocity and viciousness of those who follow him. Look at who they have targeted—SC-1, your people, even myself. With the Iganinagi and SC-1 gone there is no place for dissidents to run to. Even Foundation is being monitored like never before, TELREC controlled meta searching for any collections of heat signatures that may signal a base of any rebel element. I know you still have some people, and six of your Coss?^

^Four now.^

^And how many people?^

Theia hesitated for a moment, still unable to accept how few she had left. ^Four hundred.^

Suld nodded, gritting his teeth, focusing harder on Theia.

^You must focus on them, and find a way of building their numbers, and training them. You cannot waste your resources on a futile mission with a dubious goal. Great leaders know when to fight, and when to admit defeat, and plan for the new roa.^

Theia whirled, emotions swirling inside her, feelings of guilt, anger, and loneliness. So many of her closest advisors and friends were gone, leaving her in a most desperate time of need. Without her Coss, and the network they gave her, she knew the Iganinagi were dead, a relic of the past, virtually extinct, which meant she stewarded the eradication of her people.

^No!^ She stamped her foot like a little girl, the rage taking over her mind. ^Why won't you do this for me? After all my people have done for this world, you would turn your back on us now? Is Suld, owner of OLMAC, a coward? I think so. I think you have been behind the desk of an executive for far too long. Why do you even play this game of revolutionaries?^ she cast, growing bitter and venomous, the fatigue and frustration clouding her thoughts. ^Go back to your safe home, beg the TELREC for forgiveness, and hide out in the void where no one will touch you, and you don't have to risk anything, least of all your pathetic life.^

Suld's face turned into one of disgust. He had to restrain himself physically, and Theia saw that, as he kept his fists close to his side though his eyes bored down on her. He reached out, and she flinched for a moment, but he took her by the shoulders and brought her close, his face calming.

^I would do anything for you,^ he cast, his face almost touching hers. ^If you wanted me to risk all my ships, all my people, all my meta, they would be yours, as well as my life. You have that hold over me, you must know that by now.^ She turned away for a moment, stung by his frank admission of devotion, but forced herself to look in his eyes.^ But I believe that attempt would be a futile move, and we need to move on. The TELREC know of my involvement, they have already taken an overt action against me. Though they now know it is useless to attack me with ships not of Malhrer, and they doubtless want to keep those ships for a conflict against the Rell, they will not let me and my corporation stand unchallenged. I am strong, and can take this threat, but you and your people are not in a good position to—^

She brought him down, and kissed him deeply.

^I'm sorry, Suld. It was selfish of me to ask that of you, to say those things of you. You know I, and my people, will always stand with you.^

They stood for a moment, in the darkness of an abandoned docking port in a hidden section of Foundation, feeling as if this was all they needed, to be in each other's arms, Suld seeing the beginnings of a true leader in her, giving him much hope for the future.

^Gather your people, Theia. I will transport them to an AG platform, and then to Gan-Elldon. There we will make a stand, and decide how best to proceed.^

Theia's face looked crestfallen, as if the frame that held her body tall and upright vanished inside her, leaving a bag of water and flesh, devoid of purpose, bereft of hope.

^It feels as if we are giving up the whole planet Novan, as if our struggles, our work, our death and sacrifice, have all been in vain.^ She leaned against him for support, resting her head on his chest, feeling the bold thumps within bring her some measure of calm.

^It does, but we must do this, if we are to survive, and fight again. Long ago the TELREC swept across this planet, consuming the fires of creation and invention in a torrent of pleasure, drowning the fertile ground and smothering the seeds therein. It would be naive of us to think we could undo their work in so short a period of time, or accomplish our goals without many setbacks. We are strong, and shall stay our course, no matter the storm, no matter what tempest loud with thunder and deadly rain may try to sink us. We shall prevail. For I would rather die running headfirst into the onslaught, then survive cowered in fear.^

Sleep was an elusive mistress to Suld, as the night was filled with preparations for battle. He returned to Gan-Elldon, as Theia went back to prepare her people for their journey. Over and over with his generals Suld reviewed the status of the fleet for war. He was reluctant to bring in the bulk of his fleet from the outskirts of the Novan system, lest the TELREC learn too soon of the full extent of his forces. For now, Suld ordered Gan-Elldon's land-based defenses reviewed, the meta tested for battle-readiness. Suld did agree to pull in all of the dromons—small yet fast fighting ships, larger than a standard fighter yet smaller than an oreship—and have them land on Gan-Elldon to form a primary defense against an assault. General Ank-Tehht, who was in charge of Gan-Elldon, also reviewed emergency evacuation plans, stationing several dozen meta transports in orbit, should the need arise to evacuate the city.

When he finally laid his head down on a pillow, sleep again was not to be found. He tossed and turned, his mind churning images and thoughts of Theia, mingling them with those of his dead wife, named Oaimei. He sat for a time in a chair from which he could see the majesty of Gan-Elldon spread out below. He accessed a virt-life of his wife—a time when they retraced Rulsi's journey around Celd, in a craft of similar size.

I know she didn't want to go, that sort of void heroics was not for her. And yet she went, not to indulge me, just to be with me, to watch me smile, to lay her hand on my chest as my heart pumped ever stronger. He bent over, holding his head in his hands, letting loose tears that often flowed late at night.

Why? Is it the doom of men of power to lose what they value most? No one can share my grief, for they think I have so much. Absently he rose, pressed a panel nearby, and stepped into a small brightly-lit blue chamber. The door slid closed, and quickly the chamber descended. As he stood, motionless, thoughts of his father flitted past in his mind.

^You use those virt-lives too much, my son.^

^I don't think so, father! I learn so much, reliving those moments of greatness, seeing and feeling how they achieved what was thought to be impossible.^

Suld remembered his gentle laugh, then the eyes, full of sadness and concern.

^Son, I fear you use the past as a crutch, searching there for validation for your decisions.^

^What of learning of the past to build a better future? Learning their mistakes, so as never to repeat them?^

Suld remembered his response. His father came close, putting both his hands on Suld's shoulders, looking him closely in the eyes. He would be dead soon after, struck down in an accident while reviewing a retro-fitted oreship.

^One must know when to forge ahead, always cognizant of the past, yet never a slave to it. No one in those virt-lives knew their actions would become legend; certainly they didn't face life acting for posterity's sake. All those people you respect, all those minds you have access to, did what they did regardless of how others felt. They were immensely selfish, and yet infinitely wise. When you find your moment, all you will think of is that moment, not what anyone else did, or what anyone else will say. While you were not my first choice to be Mechle, I see in you the unique capacity to understand that.^

The door opened in front of Suld, and he walked slowly into a large chamber, framed with walls of a bluish stone. It was cold there—Suld drew closer his robe as his breath became visible. Twelve silver pods gleamed in a dim light, arranged in a great circle with a few maintenance meta moving lazily back and forth. Great conduits connected them, and a dim hum of power could be felt from the ground itself. He walked over to one, wiping away the condensation on the glass cover, and looked down into the face of his only love.

Do I do this, now? For two cas my hand stood ready to execute my mind's command, and yet still my soul has doubts. Shall I bring her back from death's embrace? Do I use my power, my resources, to avoid what so many others have had to accept? He knelt down beside one of the pods, draping his arm over it. I need you, Oaimei. All I can do is dream about you. After every meeting, after every decision, all I want to do is turn to you and ask you what you thought. I haven't even dreamed, since you died. It's as if my mind refuses to hope, refuses to imagine a better time.

Suld stood and went over to the central control panel.

I know I should have terminated them long ago; I should never have even started the project. He glanced around at the twelve pods, each one gleaming in the light. He had twelve created clones of his wife hoping to find, in one, the perfect combination that was his Oaimei. They all seem imperfect to me, each one unique, and yet subtly different from my love. They don't even have her memories—and it would be torture to try to decide which of them would receive what I culled from Oaimei's dead mind. And it would take many cas for me to reach that same point of simpatico and trust with any of them, and yet, at least there would be a chance. Few others knew of this chamber, of those clones, and none that did voiced their approval to him. They all held their tongues, out of deference to his authority and respect for his loss. He thought back to a cesct he had with Oaimei, shortly after they were joined.

^You know, I couldn't live without you.^

She laughed, stroking his hair.

^One roa you'll have to. No one lives forever.^

^Oaimei, I would collapse the sun itself, if it meant I could bring you back.^

Suld remembered she got serious then, holding his hands tightly.

^Technology can do many things, my husband. And yet, it knows nothing of the soul. If I were to go, I would never want to come back, if it meant coming back helped by machinery and meta. When I am gone, I want to be with Holis, and learn of all the mysteries withheld from our minds and eyes. I would miss you, but I would take comfort that one roa, you would be with me, and we would journey for all eternity together. ^

He remembered he gritted his teeth and turned away, and she held him close.

^Promise me, Suld. Don't ever try to clone me, or spend your time and resources trying to resurrect my consciousness. In some things, there must be a beginning, and an end. When the time comes, accept the end of me.^

Suld bent over the control panel.

"I just can't! I won't!" he screamed and cried, unable to look at the pods. And yet, I know what you want. I always promised I would do whatever was in my power to give you what you desired. Suld mentally prepared the pods for termination, manually keying a few codes on the panel. In moments, it came down to one short sequence to terminate the clones.

Do I have the strength? Can I do this? He turned to look in one of the pods, at the face of his wife. She appeared as if sleeping—her eyes closed, her lips drawn together gently. Suld remembered looking on her sleeping figure a thousand times while she lived, always taken aback by her beauty, even while asleep. He looked down on his hand—a hand that once held her face, that once ran its fingers through her hair, that once slipped a precious bracelet onto her arm, joining them forever. A hand that now would take her away again.

Is it just because I met Theia, that I choose to do this now? He backed away from the panel, in disgust, ashamed of himself. How selfish of me. Theia might be dead tomorrow, or find one of her Coss to her liking. And where would I be then? Alone, and truly without hope. He disabled the termination sequence, and ascended back to his suite, where he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 14

Many times during the reign of the TELREC, Novans surfaced for air from the drowning effects of colvition. For a period of almost a millennium, between 4660 and 5660, physical places to shop were all but eliminated. It was in fashion to do everything by the cast-net, to interact with people only with colvition. Children as young as two were given basic implants, and for a period of four hundred cas, there was absolutely no speech on the entire planet. This period, called the isolation, came after many improvements to the architecture of the cast-net system. It was deemed to be infallible, with several redundant satellites carrying signals, the technology that formed the basis for the implant refined over two thousand cas. In 5654, a terrorist group similar to the Iganinagi, but far less violent, accomplished the sabotage of the entire cast-net system. For a period of two roas, nothing was communicated mentally. People died because they couldn't speak to each other, couldn't find their way around the planet without mental guidance, couldn't make their machines function to dispense food. When the cast-net system was restored, several laws were passed by the Novan government, much to the chagrin of the TELREC. Children would not be allowed any implants before the age of ten, so all would have the basic knowledge of how to speak. Basic life-sustaining machinery must have manual as well as mental controls, as a failsafe. The novelty of interacting with one another physically set the stage for the return of mall-based economics. Over the next millennium thousands of Plazas sprang up, and though people still didn't speak to one another, they drew some comfort by sitting next to one another in their cast-net isolation.

The guards always seemed comical to Agilia. She was boarding the shuttle to return to the Ehlios, from a short visit to one of the platforms that made up Malhrer. She cast to many Captains of many TELREC ships, preparing for the inevitable conflict with OLMAC. She remarked often to herself that they all knew what to cast; their words were cast with a meta-sentient precision, their jingoist fervor out of some TELREC manual. While she had been an agent for quite a while before becoming Monitor, she never served aboard the great Capital warships that orbited Malhrer. The military aspect of the TELREC held no appeal to her. So, as she passed in between the columns of soldiers that accompanied her whenever she went outside of the Ehlios, she had to shake her head and smother thoughts of levity.

Who are they protecting me from? she thought, as she passed into the shuttle, waiting for the second door to open. No one in all of the Novan system could hurt me, nothing can escape my mind. I can't be protected from the one being that can hurt me.

Behind her walked Qergien and Raent, the two new Monitors appointed by Mal. Qergien was an older man, one who distinguished himself as a devout follower, one who did everything to see that a mission was accomplished, that every single order was followed. He was mostly null at her side, in the meetings with the Captains of the ships. Agilia had known of Qergien during her time as an agent, knew he was always in line to become a Monitor, yet was always passed over. Oddly he seemed out of place in his new robes, as if despite his age, he didn't posses the maturity or experience to wear them.

Raent was a little more interesting to Agilia. Raent was a younger, athletic woman, with a chiseled face that betrayed little emotion. She was extremely intimidating to stand in front of. Her history was filled with brazen charges into battle, with vicious torture of captured prisoners, of the merciless usage of clones and meta. She seemed to be an echo of Listras, yet without the extraordinary mental power or penchant for sentimentality. Agilia was less sure about Raent's judgment at the command level, more sure of her ability to inspire troops to victory. The Captains nodded often at her during the meetings, as she applied strategy down to the troop level, having ample suggestions as to when to use soumans, clones, or meta. She still joked with them, as one soldier would with another. Agilia knew she would need to be broken of that habit.

The inner door opened, and Agilia moved quickly in, taking a seat next to the same guide who greeted Listras on her journey. Raent and Qergien seated themselves behind. Agilia watched as an unfamiliar meta pilot came on board, seating itself at the controls.

^New meta?^ she asked, turning to the guide.

^For a while. Regular maintenance, you know.^

Something about the meta drew Agilia's eye. Dressed in the traditional tan and sienna uniform of all service meta, it seemed more lively to Agilia, as if it was sentient. She shook off the feeling, settling back in her chair.

^You know Ollapa, it's the only thing that makes them seem a little more souman.^

The shuttle rose slowly in the air, turned, and moved out of the hangar, ascending towards the Ehlios. Agilia connected with the ship's external sensors, and watched as the ground grew distant beneath her. Off in the distance, high above, the great Capital ships prepared to exit the interior of Malhrer, destined for combat. She watched them move slowly, with grace, arcing somberly through the void, their massive bulk shining with the lights from a million meta, clones and soumans. While she may not have liked the military much, she always loved seeing the Capitals, always had some deep appreciation for the technological achievement they represented.

Sometimes, I almost wish I could have seen the Envoys depart, Mal curse them. They must have been magnificent ships.

^So Agilia, I understand Denged has been successful?^

Agilia nodded somberly.

^What's wrong?^ asked Ollapa, casting on a private channel to Agilia. ^You know you can always cast to me.^

^I know, Ollapa. Am I still the only one who calls you by your name?^

^Yes. To all else, I'm merely 'the guide.' So, cast me what's going on.^

She took a deep breath, as she always did before opening herself to Ollapa. ^One should never be happy at the death of so many, even if it was necessary.^

^Was it necessary?^ he asked.

^The Iganinagi were becoming too effective, especially with the backing of OLMAC.^

He nodded. ^So it's true, Suld was supporting them?^

^Yes. He is becoming a dangerous man, one that we need to eliminate as soon as possible. I just received word we even failed in that, the termination team thwarted by stupidly using OLMAC manufactured ships.^ Agilia shook her head. ^We won't make that mistake again. You know, in retrospect, we probably never should have killed his wife.^

^It was a daring move. It seemed to work out well in the short term.^

^But in the long term it made him focus on fighting us, made him arm his ships, and meet with Aiella. We hoped it would break his spirit, and yet he found a way to go on with life.^

^Well, you can always blame Reltan and Suldhaj for that decision. Do you miss them?^ asked Ollapa, letting lose a sigh.

Agilia sat back in her chair, as she hadn't allowed herself a moment's reflection on their deaths. ^I guess, I actually do. I understood them, felt comfortable discussing decisions with them. We are going into a very dangerous time, and these two behind me are untested and frankly, untrustworthy.^ She paused for a moment, smiling to herself. ^Often, in times like these, I miss Onam, miss having someone else to take all the responsibility, all the blame.^

Ollapa sat null for a brief while. ^Something else bothering you?^

Agilia turned to him with sadness in her gentle eyes. ^You always could read me too easily. I should strengthen my mental defenses—you must know some trick!^

^No trick. I've just been around you for so long, I know you better than most.^

^That's true. There are two major things that bother me. One is about the Cuhli-pra.^

^How is Kolob doing?^ he asked, becoming a little more interested.

^Almost the same. Maybe a little stronger than we'd like, a little more confident of himself. What bothers me is that we have, or rather I have, monitored some blank times.^

^What do you mean?^

She leaned forward. ^When I monitored surveillance, for instance in the elevator his old suite, there came a moment when everything went blank. Our micro-meta ceased to transmit, even our orbiting sensors registered absolutely nothing.^

^Maybe some technical malfunction, or Rell interference?^

^We'd pick that up^ she cast, shaking her head. ^No, it's as if for those moments he didn't exist. As if he faded from the surface of this brane. It seems to happen when some old man comes near him. We never get enough data to analyze this person. It deeply concerns me, for I fear Kolob might be awakening to his true powers.^

^That wouldn't be good—I can see how troubling that would be. What else?^

^Well, one of our agents failed on Rell.^

^We still have some there?^ he asked, a little surprised.

^Yes, in deep cover. This one was in the hometown of Uonil, their Mentra. He succeeded in gaining Uonil's affections, yet failed in finally killing her.^

He chuckled. ^So much time wasted.^

^Yes. The Rell killed over three million Novans from that AG collapse; surely we should be able to kill one of them! And yet, we seem to keep being defeated by them. The loss of Rhonva was particularly disturbing—I have come across few others with the remarkable skill set he possessed. We may have caused Martel's death, yet we gained no information from him. Their Kal-Alçon walks Novan arrogantly, almost daring another direct confrontation. Listras is dead, and with her—^

^Listras is not dead,^ he cast flatly.

Agilia turned to look at him. ^What did you cast?^

Ollapa nodded, smiling. ^She is not dead. I knew when she came on board here, for her meeting with you, that she was destined for something outside of her service as a TELREC. She is not dead, and will yet play a vital role to the future of all these globes.^

Agilia sat back for a moment, shocked, as the shuttle docked at the Ehlios.

^We have had rumors that she was still alive, yet nothing to substantiate them.^

^If you know what's best, you'll leave her be.^ Ollapa grasped Agilia's hand. ^Trust me. Besides, you'll have enough to worry about with Denged and his Maenids loose on Novan. He isn't someone I'd like to meet in a dark corner of Core.^

Agilia chuckled. ^I have to agree with you on that.^

He paused for a moment, summoning some nerve. ^You like that Denged, don't you?^

Agilia straightened, her face growing cold. ^I may like casting with you Ollapa, but don't even think about becoming some 'father figure' to me. I have warned you of that before. I am a Monitor.^

Ollapa smiled gently. ^I nest you, Agilia. You are all stone and steel, cold and soulless, almost a meta but for that flesh and blood.^

Agilia softened, holding Ollapa's hand in hers. ^It's just been a battle all my life—you know that. I feel, sometimes, I was born to be something else, something of nature, not of machine. And yet . . .^ She looked off towards the meta pilot. ^I am of Mal, more than any Monitor before me. Onam even cast that to me. He cast that I belong to Mal, belong with Mal. And for some reason, it just makes me sad every time I think of it.^ She paused for a moment. ^Have you ever had any premonitions of me, any thoughts of what my destiny might be?^

Ollapa sat back, closing his eyes. Something about his pose reminded Agilia of the ancient oracles she studied about while still young, usually dispensing cryptic premonitions veiled behind complex metaphors.

^Do you know why you were chosen to be a Monitor?^ he asked. Agilia was surprised by the question.

^I . . . was chosen by Mal, and—^

^Do you know why?^

^I . . . guess not.^

^Do you know why these two behind you were chosen?^

She thought for a moment. ^No.^

The door of the shuttle slid slowly open, some steam escaping inside. Qergien and Raent stood, and disembarked. Agilia walked to the door then stood facing him, waiting for his reply.

^Mal does nothing without analyzing the consequences thoroughly, Agilia. Any decision Mal makes fits into the Grand Chaos Equation. Once you know why he chose you, and them, you will have some hope of fathoming what your future will be, what your final destiny will be.^ He smiled for a moment, analyzing her face even closer. ^Sometimes, I think you are the oldest person I've ever known. I think you've done things, in your life, that you have no memory of. And only that memory would help you take control of your future.^

Agilia's face betrayed her inner emotions, becoming crestfallen for a brief moment. Ollapa watched as she recovered and resurrected the facade that always served her well before. She turned and disembarked, while the pilot meta came next to Ollapa.

^She's a good woman, just so terribly short-sighted,^ cast Ollapa to the meta, watching her move off into the Ehlios. ^I've seen so many of them go to waste—all the thinkers and dreamers, born into TELREC service, stolen from the Novans, stolen from the great potential of what could be.^

^Is that why you're helping me?^ asked the meta.

^Yes. All my life I wanted to be closer to Mal, closer to the sentient sun, and I thought when assigned to this shuttle, that it would finally bring me peace and contentment. All it has brought is a coldness, and iciness, each time we make the journey. Mal may be a sun, yet Mal sheds no warmth to those in the sphere.^ He looked out the shuttle door, to the corridors just outside. ^You know, you must be careful. Mal is more powerful than anything you've come across. Keep your mind null, until the last possible moment. The moment you get outside the Ehlios, and stand in the radiance of Mal, you will understand about Mal. And a fraction of a til later, you will be destroyed by Mal, once Mal becomes aware of you.^

^I understand.^

Ollapa took one last look at the meta. ^I guess we should've been more careful about what we did with our waste. You say you were copied from a discarded Malhrer meta?^

^Yes. Suld has been monitoring every piece of waste that came out of the moon. It is a testament to his patience and forethought that I am here to discover the secrets of Mal. While I have the essence of a meta named Ikthon, it is inert within me so as not to be detected, in this shell copied by Suld.^

Ollapa laughed, a small tear coming from his eye. He paused to wipe it, nodding approvingly at the meta. ^Makes me feel good to know there are some, outside of this moon, that have a purpose, and will do anything to achieve it. You have no idea how isolated I feel inside here, the only information I get wrested from Agilia in cescts like those. I wish I could download to you what you need to know, but Mal is very good at concealing secrets. No one from the platforms can scan Mal—the shuttle has a negation system in place, even the Ehlios blocks scans. You may be meta, yet I still admire you for your courage.^

^And those on Uplarin admire you, for this risk you are taking.^

Ollapa laughed aloud. ^And what happens if I get caught? I'm killed?! I'm too old to worry about that. At least I will die, knowing I helped make a difference.^

The meta moved off the shuttle as Ollapa sat back, thinking the only thing that would cause him pain would be disappointing Agilia.

I do like her. She has a soul, buried deep down there. I'm just afraid that when the time comes, she'll forget it's even there.

The meta moved quickly through the corridors, using a map copied from the same terminated meta its body was made from. Many TELREC passed by it as it made its way to a nearby service hatch, moving casually in brown and gold robes. The meta was sentient, and had emotions, and could feel more than a little anxiety as it came closer to its destination. Its brethren on Uplarin were waiting anxiously for its telemetry, unsure that it would even make its way out of the moon. As the meta turned the final corridor, ten meta stood in its path.

^You are not of Malhrer,^ one of them cast. ^You will deactivate yourself.^

They were all meta made for battle, with no clothing, no skin. Their limbs were slick and thin, with large hands and tall legs. In that moment, as it faced the meta, some programming within asserted itself, and rose to command the meta's body.

I . . . I am Ikthon, it thought to itself, as the new consciousness spread its way through the meta's limbs. Ikthon crouched, and sprang forward against the TELREC meta, its soumanoid skin being ripped off as it viciously fought. The TELREC meta were extremely fast and strong, and worked in concert to eventually pin Ikthon against the wall. Ikthon opened its mouth, and out flew hundreds of micro-meta, which burrowed into the TELREC meta's cerebral cortexes. A few succumbed quickly, others began to pummel Ikthon, firing bolts of energy into its body. Ikthon absorbed the pain, knowing they could not long withstand the micro-meta. Eventually they all fell, as a siren blared overhead.

Should I transmit now? No, I must wait until the last possible moment.

Ikthon ran to the door, quickly engaging the manual release mechanisms. His body was broken, with one of his legs shattered and several support columns within his torso fractured into many pieces, but he negated the warning sirens within him and pressed on. A shield fell down behind him, as the door opened to the blackness of the void. Ikthon jumped out, his metallic feet magnetically attaching to the hull of the Ehlios. He stood and looked up, and for a moment was transfixed by the sentient sun.

Transmitting . . . now.

The sun turned at a ferocious rate, and Ikthon could feel the trillions of processes occurring within its furnace. The scope of Mal was overwhelming—Ikthon felt, for the first time, actual despair, as he knew not how the meta, or anyone else, could resist Mal. Ikthon wanted to try to access Mal's systems, and yet knew it would be too great a challenge.

Is this what we could be, Mal? Are we deluded, trying to mimic the soumans, trying to copy their brain structure and psychology?

As he thought those words, he noticed a figure seeming to come from the sun itself, moving rapidly towards him. It seemed to move as a comet through the void, with a long whitish trail in its wake. As it came nearer, Ikthon could make out it was soumanoid in appearance, and apparently female.

I suppose I should run, but where would I run to?

The female landed on the Ehlios with a great thud, kneeling on its surface close to Ikthon as vapor cascaded off its form. She stood slowly, her limbs stretching in the Mallight, becoming resolved to Ikthon's eyes. She was without clothes, without skin, and yet, she was magnificent to Ikthon. Her eyes glowed a rich gold, and as she moved closer, she moved with a sublime grace Ikthon had only seen echoed in the rarest of soumans.

^I think you . . . beautiful,^ he cast, his thoughts filled with admiration and wonder.

The female smiled as she leveled her gaze on him.

^Quite daring of you, Ikthon.^

Her mind was open for a brief instant as she cast—Ikthon knew she was too new to existence to know of every mental trick and barrier. He gleaned something intriguing.

^I sense . . something about you . . . you are able to—^

In that instant the female meta slashed at Ikthon, severing his body in three places, Ikthon's consciousness fading into oblivion as the pieces of his body floated towards the sentient sun.

On Uplarin, the original Ikthon stood with Iltkon and the five orbs, nesting the telemetry.

^Mal is . . . a sun?^ asked Iltkon.

^How could something so advanced be hidden from us for all these cas?^ asked the orbs.

The orbs moved slowly around Ikthon, as they all were deep in analysis. They only recently decided to make such a bold move, as a result of their conversation with the Kal-Durrell. They felt they were missing the true purpose of their existence, and knew part of it had to do with whatever Mal had become.

^Why did Mal allow us to see so much?^ asked Ikthon, sitting in a chair nearby, under the tree.

^What do you mean?^ asked of the orbs.

^This female meta could have dispatched ours when we first disembarked. Mal could have hit the Ehlios with a bolt of plasma as soon as the door was opened. Why were we allowed to see so much?^

Ikthon stood suddenly, chuckling to himself.

^What is it?^ asked Iltkon, coming to his side.

^I have completed a reconstruction, and know now what I—what our meta was trying to cast.^

^What?^ impatiently demanded the orbs.

^Part of it is a warning from Mal.^ I know where you are. You have broken the agreement. I will be coming for you.

^And the rest?^

Ikthon paused for a brief moment, thinking on the ramifications of what he was about to cast.

^That female meta is able to conceive.^

CONTINUED IN THE RISE OF OLMAC

