

Pact Arcanum

Cathedral

of the

Sky

Arshad

Ahsanuddin

See back matter for Glossary and Principal Cast
Chapter 1

August 2039; Burano, Italy

The falcon watched its prey, eyes sharp in the darkness, from the rooftop of a building painted in bright, primary colors. The bird had been tracking this particular vampire for the last ten days. The Nightwalker had a specific hunting range, roving among the islands of the Venetian Lagoon. The falcon followed the Nightwalker across the backdrop of pastel houses. Periodically, it paused to tear off another piece of meat from a pigeon that had been too slow to avoid its talons.

So far, the vampire appeared to be relatively fastidious, always going for a solitary kill in the early evening, then immediately leaving the area for one of the other islands to meet up with his friends. The falcon hadn't bothered to follow any of the others to see whether they were human or vampire, not wanting to lose sight of its quarry.

And so they had fallen into a rhythm, both sleeping by day and hunting by night. The falcon continued to watch, patiently waiting as the cycle repeated itself. The nameless vampire trailed his prey for the night: a young woman in her twenties, walking alone and carrying a bag of groceries. When she left the wider streets around the canals, she entered a narrow alley. The Nightwalker made his move, blurring into motion as he ran up behind her. He bared his fangs and wrapped his arm around her throat to stifle her screams. The falcon watched with detachment, one predator studying another, while the pattern played out again.

And then everything changed.

The woman was suddenly outlined in a searing white glow, and the Nightwalker's arm burst into flames. Howling, he jerked away from her and stumbled backward, eyes wide. The woman turned around and smiled pleasantly, still sheathed in white fire. The vampire clapped his hands together and was immediately surrounded by a shield of green light, but he staggered backward when the woman's next spell engulfed him in cobalt fire.

The falcon tensed and dropped the bird carcass. It spread its wings to fly down and attack, but the Nightwalker's emerald shield collapsed under the mystical assault, and the flames imploded as the vampire was instantly consumed. The falcon settled back to watch, tucking in its wings as it turned its senses on the woman. _Finally._

Then it was knocked down against the rooftop when an eagle backwinged above it, the larger avian coming to rest less than six inches away. The new arrival cocked its head, then took a bite of the discarded pigeon. The smaller bird of prey glanced back down at the street, but the woman was gone. _Damn it! I was so close!_

The eagle swallowed its morsel of flesh. "You seem disappointed," it said in Arcolin, the ancient common language buried in the race memories of the Sentinel Gift.

The falcon stared at it in disbelief.

The eagle shimmered, shifting form to become a man in his early thirties, about six feet tall, with tanned skin and black, curly hair. He regarded the falcon with amusement as he sat cross-legged on the rooftop. He waited silently for a moment, then shrugged. "Customarily, a Sentinel entering an established territory is supposed to announce himself to the local groupings and offer tribute." He grinned. "Between the meal and the target, consider the tribute taken care of, but don't you think it's about time you introduced yourself?"

The falcon shifted into human form, a young boy dressed in black jeans and a stained short-sleeved shirt that had once been white. The boy immediately hunched over in pain when his human body reacted to over a week without a meal sufficient to sustain his true form.

The older shapeshifter's eyes widened as he raked his eyes over the boy's grubby clothing and greasy hair. He let loose a stream of rapid-fire Italian, then seeing the boy's lack of comprehension, he repeated himself in accented English. "You're that American boy off the news, aren't you? The one who disappeared last month? Michael Danvers."

Michael swallowed his nausea, then nodded. "Yes," he croaked. "I've been looking for you."

The other Sentinel frowned when he saw Michael shudder then glanced back at the partially eaten animal lying on the roof between them. "When was the last time you ate a human meal?"

Michael tried to remember. "Tuesday."

The other man's jaw dropped. "Three days?"

"Last week."

The older Sentinel's expression turned grim. "Why didn't you just go to one of the safehouses if you needed supplies?"

Michael stared blankly at him.

"Oh, Christ. I know you're young, but don't you know anything?" Then he paled. "How long since you opened your eyes?"

"Fifteen days." Michael straightened up, the hunger pangs finally starting to ease.

"You kindled and then walked away from your family?" The Sentinel's face showed compassion but not pity. "And now you're hoping we'll take you in?"

Michael held his breath. He hadn't planned any farther than this moment. If the local Sentinels didn't help him, he had no other options.

The older Sentinel shook his head slowly and got to his feet. "Michael, I'm Constanzo Allegri. Let's get you something to eat first, and then we'll talk."

Chapter 2

July 2039; Over the Atlantic Ocean; Two weeks earlier

Michael watched as the setting sun lit up the cloud bank to the west of the airplane. He glanced around at the other passengers in the First Class cabin. They were, for the most part, asleep or typing furiously into their computers while listening to music on headphones. _How can they not care what's going on outside? Can't they see how totally flash this is?_

His father dropped back into the seat next to Michael. Taking care not to wake his wife, sleeping in the seat across the aisle, Jason Danvers buckled himself in next to Michael. He regarded his son's annoyed expression with surprise. "Something wrong?"

Michael looked back out the window. "Nah. Just thinking. It was childish."

"Hate to break it to you, Sport, but you _are_ a child." His father raised his hands in a placating gesture as Michael turned around to face him in outrage. "Yes, I know you're taking college classes, but you're twelve years old. If you have questions, then ask."

Michael dropped his gaze and rubbed his hands together, thinking of how best to express himself. "I was just looking at everyone, and they're all so wrapped up in themselves. I mean, we're flying all the way to Europe! Don't they get that it's a big deal?"

Jason sighed. "You've never been on an airplane before, so everything seems wondrous and new to you. The rest of us are used to it, so we don't notice as much. Cut us a little slack."

Michael looked back out the window, his expression sour, as the last light of the sun slipped below the horizon. "Eyes closed," he muttered.

"What?"

Michael didn't turn around as he recited from memory. "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."

He heard his father chuckle behind him. "Fair enough. Is that your thought or someone else's?"

"Einstein."

"Smart man."

Michael sat back in his seat and met his father's gaze. "Dad, do you have any regrets? About me, I mean?"

Jason cocked his head. "Of course not. Why?"

"I know I'm smart, and I'm good with numbers. All the extra schooling that you've had to pay for, has it ever been a problem?"

Jason shook his head with a half smile. "Mickey, your mother and I are extremely proud of you. If there's anything we can do to help you reach your potential, then it's yours, no questions asked. Don't worry so much about us; we can take care of ourselves. You just enjoy this trip and start thinking of what you want for your birthday."

Mickey shrugged and faced the window. "It's Venice, so I guess something made of glass would be appropriate."

"I said you should choose what you want, not what's appropriate."

_What's the difference?_ Michael refrained from replying aloud. _Living up to expectations is what I do._

* * *

July 2039; Venice, Italy; three days later

Michael followed the tour group through St. Mark's Cathedral, listening with half his mind while the guide pointed out the finer points of the majestic edifice. _Just another church,_ he thought, _but on a grander scale. There has to be something more interesting to do than this around here._ He watched his parents standing ahead of him in the group, taking pictures as the famous icons were pointed out to them. _Boooooring._

Suddenly, he felt stifled. _I'm thirteen years old today. Maybe it's time I did something unexpected._ He hung back as the tour group proceeded deeper into the cathedral. When no one was looking, he walked nonchalantly toward the doors, pulling out his brand-new sat-phone while he walked.

He quickly deactivated the locator beacon and set up a time-delayed text message to be sent to his father's phone, giving himself a ten-minute head start.

Dad,

Decided to explore for a bit. Will meet you back at the hotel in an hour.

Mickey

He hit 'send' just as he walked through the main doors into the bright afternoon sunlight of the Piazza San Marco. _There will be hell to pay for this._ He headed for the arch at the other end of the square, leading deeper into the city. _I'm a teenager now. Time I started rebelling._

He couldn't keep himself from smiling as he stepped through the arch into the narrow streets of the city proper.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, he tried to recapture that moment of glee, wandering aimlessly among the small shops and restaurants. The expected email had come twenty minutes ago.

Michael,

The cops say that by the time they mobilize, you'll probably already be back. So enjoy your hour of freedom, Sport, because when you get home, we're going to have a serious discussion.

Dad

It had been fun. There were endless things to see in this ancient but cosmopolitan city. The thought of the punishment that was waiting for him cast a pall over his emotions as the light died, however. Even worse, maybe there would be no punishment other than to weather their disappointment. _What the hell was I thinking?_

He continued to berate himself, not noticing when he missed the turnoff he was looking for. After a few minutes, he realized he was lost. Pulling out his map, he checked his location against the street signs on the wall of the next intersection then headed down a side street that should take him in the right direction. He followed the new route at a brisk jog, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw the alley ahead blocked by construction. He pulled out his map again, stepping closer to a street lamp to read. _I didn't realize it would get dark this fast._ Finally starting to get nervous, he plotted an alternate course and set out.

It became clear after a few minutes, however, that his new plan had taken him into a less-populated area of the city. He quickened his pace, wanting nothing more than to get home, punishment or not. Marching down a relatively deserted street, he heard the sounds of a scuffle from an approaching side street. _Don't get involved. Keep moving._ Just when he passed the alley, however, someone screamed and then went silent.

At the piercing noise, his head twitched around involuntarily to look, seeing two men standing in the shadows, one struggling weakly in the other's arms. And the other, he was ... biting? _What the hell?_ Then the more aggressive man dragged the other's head to the side. The sickening crunch of breaking bone was audible in the sudden silence, even from where Michael was standing.

The boy froze, seeing the victim slump. Michael's analytical mind processed the sight he was too numb with shock to believe. _Still breathing. He must just be paralyzed._ The victor tipped the helpless man's head back at an impossible angle and then slashed his fingertips across the exposed neck. Immediately, a gaping wound opened in the victim's throat and bright crimson sprayed across the opposite wall until the aggressor clamped his mouth on the geyser of blood and drank greedily.

Michael simply watched, his mind and emotions silent in the face of the impossible scene he was witnessing.

Finally, the killer raised his head and dropped the dead body to the cobblestone pavement. Then he turned directly to face Michael.

Michael saw the fangs protruding from the man's mouth, lips drawn back from his bloody teeth in a wide grin. The boy pulled himself together and ran.
Chapter 3

He ran for almost twenty minutes, panic giving him the stamina to flee. Convinced the monster was right behind him, he darted through the most heavily populated areas he could find. Then, when his energy began to flag, he switched tactics and tried to lose himself in the more residential areas of the city. Eventually, he couldn't maintain his pace any farther. He climbed over a fence to slump against the inner wall of a vegetable garden, trying to keep his labored breathing quiet. He didn't know how long he huddled there, hidden in the dark between rows of tomato plants. The sight of the vampire circled endlessly through his thoughts, banishing reason in the face of the primeval terror arising from the most primitivecenters of his mind.

And then everything changed. Knowledge and memories exploded into his awareness from the dawn of human history, tearing apart what he had been and leaving something _other_ in its place.

_Sentinel._

The word meant nothing to Michael, nothing save the end of one world and the beginning of the next.

_I am a Child of the Twilight._ _I hold the line against the darkness, from the setting of the sun until the dawning of a new day. I live for the Light; I die for the Light. My eyes are open and I am not afraid._

He was a hunter, bred to kill. Michael knew this without question. A map of the city arose from his subconscious, reconstructed from his crazed flight across the island, and he mentally retraced his steps back to the last known location of prey, plotting lines of attack and retreat, patiently stitching together the fragmented memories of the alley and the surrounding terrain with preternatural skill. The Nightwalker had most likely gone to ground already. _Obviously, if it was tracking me, I would already be dead. So it won't be expecting me to counterattack tonight. I can track its scent back to its lair, and then—_

The absurdity of what he was planning exploded in his mind. _What the fuck am I thinking? That thing would eat me for dessert without even breaking a sweat!_

The implacable voice in the back of his mind wasn't impressed. _Identify the enemy. Isolate him from reinforcements. Eliminate the threat._

_Shut up!_ Michael squeezed his hands over his ears, trying to muffle the words, trying to shield himself from the knowledge that whispered inexorably into his thoughts.

Then he heard the words of the fourth key, the final tenet of Sentinel battle tactics. _Scorch the earth as a warning to others._

And this time, there was only one voice.

His own.

Michael dropped his hands to his sides and got slowly to his feet. He turned away from the lights of the house behind which he had cowered and faced the darkened streets beyond the wall.

He wanted to deny it all and run back to the arms of his family, but he could feel the hunt calling to him, the violence that boiled just beneath his surface thoughts. _I can't let them see me like this. They'd think I was cracked, and they'd spend the rest of their lives taking me from shrink to shrink trying to make me normal again._

Michael jumped, tapping his Gift for strength and agility, easily clearing the fence to land lightly on his feet in the darkness between streetlights. Silently, he slipped down the street, moving lithely through the shadows as he followed the map in his mind back to his hotel.

* * *

_Pandemonium._ Michael gazed down from a neighboring rooftop at the clusters of uniformed police officers standing on the street outside the entrance to his hotel, speaking urgently on their phones to coordinate the search parties combing the city for him.

Michael drew out his phone and checked his messages. _Thirty-seven voicemails and eighteen texts. They must be frantic by now._ He resisted the urge to review them and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he took a deep, calming breath and shifted form.

The falcon lifted itself into the air with a few beats of its wings and flew down to the third-floor window Michael had shared with his parents. Luckily, it was open against the heat of the summer night. He perched carefully on the sill, walking sideways to hide himself behind the drapes pulled to either side.

His mother and father sat on the couch in the living room, surrounded by police. His mother leaned against her husband's side, her cheeks covered with salt from her tears, but her eyes were dry as she stared sightlessly ahead at nothing, lost in despair. His father had one arm around her, staring at the phone on the coffee table with single-minded determination, as if he could entice it to ring through sheer force of will.

_Mom, Dad, I'm sorry._ He struggled against the urge to change back to human form and throw himself at their feet to beg forgiveness. _What could I say to them? How could I explain what I've become? They were so proud, had so many plans._ Never had any of them considered the possibility of 'shapeshifter'. _College. Marriage. Grandchildren._ Those were the things his parents envisioned for him.

_How can I come forward and take it all away for the sake of a battle in which they couldn't possibly believe? Could I stand to watch their dreams die when they look at me? Better that they don't know, that they never understand the evil that I would lead to their door._

He watched them for the better part of an hour, memorizing their features. Then he stepped off the precipice and fell, spreading his wings and taking flight as he dropped toward the ground. Arrowing toward the mainland and Lido, he silently recited the words that came easily to his mind. _My eyes are open, and I am not afraid._
Chapter 4

Torcello, Italy; August 2039

Michael ducked under the claws of the fanged horror when it swiped at him. Rolling to a crouch, Michael's own form blurred into that of a griffin, and he launched himself at the monster's eyes, talons outstretched to rend. The creature simply batted the young Sentinel's diminutive body out of the air. When Michael hit the broken flagstones, he lay there dazed, just for a moment, before recovering his wits. He tried to regain his footing, but the other creature had crossed the distance between them in the meantime, and Michael found himself crushed back to the cold ground by a booted foot. The boy struggled, shifting form to random shapes, trying to gain enough leverage to lift his opponent's weight, but he was held fast. Finally, he went limp and turned his head toward Constanzo. "Yield."

Constanzo shook his head. "Let him go, Tacitus."

The monster stepped back and blurred back to human form, revealing a dark-skinned man in his thirties. He spat on the ground. "The boy will be useless in a fight. Why are we wasting our resources on him?"

One of the older women in the surrounding crowd snorted in disgust. "Because he's one of us, you imbecile. We don't have a choice."

Tacitus snarled at her, his teeth lengthening into fangs again. "Don't tell me you're getting maternal in your old age, Gina."

Gina rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a fool. Even the vampires take care of their own until they can fend for themselves. Are we less human than they?"

"Enough," said Constanzo, in a voice that made it clear he would brook no argument. "If the boy can't fight, he'll have to serve in some other capacity." Tacitus looked ready to argue, but Constanzo hardened his tone into an order. "Dismissed."

The shapeshifter struggled against the compulsion, but the chain of command ingrained in the Sentinel Gift prevailed. Constanzo might not have been one of the Winds, or even an Earth Sentinel, but he held authority and therefore had to be obeyed. Tacitus turned away with a sullen expression and marched out of the ruins back toward the docks. Most of the watching Sentinels followed him.

Constanzo turned to face Michael, who sat cross-legged on the ground, head down in dejection. "Get up, Michael."

"Why?" answered Michael, pulling a dandelion free from the ground and twirling it in his fingers. "He's right. I'm useless. If I can't defend myself, what good am I?"

"As I told Tacitus, there are ways to serve other than direct combat." Constanzo sighed and sat down next to Michael. He laid his arm over the younger Sentinel's shoulders. "You showed a real talent for surveillance in tracking your first Nightwalker. We would never have found his nest if you hadn't led us to him. Not every hunt is about the kill."

Michael chuckled. "I hid from him but not from you. Doesn't say much about my abilities."

"Raw Sentinels have a very specific psychic aura. We always watch for it, so we can find them before the Nightwalkers. You stayed in animal form throughout the night, so they weren't able to track you, but you let down your guard during the day. That was a mistake that speaks more of inexperience than incompetence."

"I'm sure you have more important stuff to take care of." Michael finally lifted his gaze from the ground to meet his benefactor's. "Why are you being so patient with me?"

Constanzo pulled back his arm and got to his feet. _Why, indeed?_ He brushed the twigs from his pants before answering. "I had a wife and son before I kindled. He'd be only a little older than you by now."

Michael shot to his feet, his expression closing in hostility. "I _have_ a father."

Constanzo met his gaze, noting that while Michael's irises had shifted to gold, the young Sentinel showed no other physical stigmata of his agitation. _Tacitus would be showing fangs and claws by now. The boy has excellent control; another five years to reach physical maturity and he'll be a force to be reckoned with._ "I'm not offering to replace him. But my wife thinks me dead, and so my son has learned to call another man 'father'." Constanzo drew himself to his full height, glaring down at Michael with matching antipathy. "The Gift took my family from me, just as it did yours. The Cause has left us with no one but each other. I know the pain of losing a child. Should I now cast one aside?"

Michael's shoulders slumped, and his eyes shifted back to their normal color. "I miss them so much," he whispered.

_As you should._ Constanzo said nothing aloud, knowing that while showing sympathy at this point would certainly bind the boy's loyalty, it would undermine the emotional distance he needed to cultivate if Michael was to become an effective soldier under his command. The Sentinel leader waited silently until Michael swallowed his moment of homesickness and then extended his hand. "If you're willing to stay, then I will make a place for you with our scouts. But only if you're willing."

Michael squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'll stay." He exhaled in a rush and then took the other Sentinel's hand. "My eyes are open, and I am not afraid."
Chapter 5

September 2039; Rome, Italy; Five weeks later

Michael watched Constanzo shake hands with Alessa, the Earth Sentinel who was the local territory leader. Apparently, there was a major operation underway that the Rome Sentinels had uncovered, and they'd brought in Sentinel teams from Venice and Naples to provide extra bodies that the local vampires wouldn't recognize. Michael had been surprised to be included in the combat team that accompanied Constanzo to the meeting, and he remained uncomfortable under the curious glances of the other Sentinels.

Only one of them seemed actually hostile though: Benedetto, the leader of the Naples team. After Constanzo had been introduced to those he hadn't already met, the Neapolitan Sentinel immediately leveled his finger at Michael and spat a few quick phrases in Italian.

Michael reddened. He couldn't understand the words, but he knew the tone of contempt when he heard it. It was widely accepted practice for Sentinel business to be conducted in Arcolin, the common language from the start of the war that was encoded into the Gift. For one Sentinel to address another in a different language, without explicit knowledge that they both shared the same understanding, was contrary to their genetically programmed combat protocols for clear transmission of orders. For Benedetto to exert the effort to defy his own internal imperatives was a mark of great disrespect.

Constanzo scowled at the slight and answered in Arcolin. "You're insulting one of my people to his face. Be brave enough to speak your mind properly."

"I asked why you brought your rawest recruit on such an important mission," snapped Benedetto, switching to Arcolin. "We know who he is and how long he's been active. If his weakness screws up this operation, we could lose centuries of work!"

Constanzo growled in a low rumble, but he remained physically human. "Michael is one of my best scouts, in spite of his age. I brought him because he will be a key asset in this operation."

"Ridiculous!" Benedetto's face was white with anger. "What can he do that a more experienced Sentinel couldn't do ten times better?"

"He's inconspicuous and fast on his feet," answered Constanzo in a soft voice. "So he's the best choice to plant the charm."

Michael's eyes narrowed in suspicion at Benedetto's expression of surprise. _That's the first I've heard about a specific mission._

Alessa raised her hands for silence. "We're not here to argue the mission roster. We have a job to do, so we need to bring everyone up to speed."

Benedetto folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. "Fine. Tell them what you discovered."

"Last week, a major raid on a House Ellestan safehouse was able to recover some incriminating documents regarding financial ties between the Court of Shadows and certain high officials in the Holy See," said Alessa.

"The Vatican has been offering us covert support for generations," scoffed Tacitus. "Why would they suddenly side with the bloodsuckers?"

"Only a few of the Cardinals know that we exist," answered Alessa. "Their voices could be suppressed if a higher authority chose to silence them."

"Cardinal Lambert..." whispered Gina with a horrified expression.

Even Michael had heard of the charismatic and popular French priest who was widely believed to be the front-runner once the papal conclave met the following month to elect a new Pope. "Are you saying he's a traitor? Why?"

Benedetto looked disgusted. "If the reports we discovered are true, he's being blackmailed."

"For what?" asked Gina.

Alessa rapped her knuckles against the table. "Unknown. But we can't allow him to compromise our funding and supply lines with the Church."

Michael's eyebrows shot up. "You're not planning on killing him, are you? Won't that do just as much damage?"

Alessa's expression grew pained. "We'll try to get close enough for our Air Sentinels to do a deep read on him and verify his intentions, but if he is truly being blackmailed by the Court, then we will have no choice but to eliminate him. We'll just have to do it secretly so that it can't be traced back to us. If he ascends to the office of pontiff at the conclave, his life is protected by treaty, and we lose the opportunity to act."

Constanzo turned to the other members of his team. "That's where we come in. Tacitus, Lambert is arriving in the city tomorrow evening. You and I will get Gina close enough so that she can read his mind and confirm that he's been compromised." He turned to Michael. "Michael, you will infiltrate the Sistine Chapel and plant a countercharm to unlock its mystical defenses so that we can strike him down from a distance and make it look like a natural death."

Michael cocked his head. "Since when does the Sistine Chapel have mystical defenses?"

Alessa laughed, breaking the tension. "Since we installed them in the late seventeenth century." Her mirth faded, and her expression turned grim. "For the last century, we have been adding backdoors to those defenses when the Church has brought us in to renew them, just in case. The chapel was very heavily fortified, however, and its protections remain potent, so we have not had an opportunity to install an access point. The Swiss Guards have also been given the means to detect spellcasting within the limits of Vatican City, so for the plan to work, we will need a diversion."

"My team will conjure a series of poltergeists at opposite sides of the city," said Benedetto. "That should draw the attention of the guards' security systems and allow you to cast the charm undetected."

Michael faced Constanzo. "Why me? Wouldn't a Fire Sentinel be a better choice?"

Constanzo shook his head. "This close to the conclave, security will be tight. An adult requesting access to the chapel would draw closer scrutiny than a child."

"Archbishop Liam of Armagh is one of our strongest supporters and agrees that corruption of the Papacy cannot be allowed to happen," said Alessa. "He has agreed to have one of his junior priests take you on a private tour of the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel, using the cover story that you are the son of a wealthy patron of the Church. Once he gets you inside the chapel, cast the charm and open the defenses without being observed."

"And if I _am_ observed?" asked Michael.

"The priest doesn't know what we are, so you might be fine," answered Constanzo. "However, if he reports irregular activity, it might raise the suspicions of those in the Church leadership that are aware of our existence. That would be damaging, both to our position and to Cardinal Liam's, if Lambert winds up dead."
Chapter 6

The next evening

Michael waited patiently, sitting on a bench in the entry hall of the Vatican Museum while the tourist crowd petered out, running through the spellform in his mind. It wasn't very complex, just enough to latch onto the existing defenses and make a knothole. He got to his feet when he saw the priest approaching whose picture he had memorized. "Father Padraic?"

The priest was young, perhaps twenty years old at the most, with fair skin and light brown hair. "You must be Mr. Daniels," he said in a light brogue.

"Michael is fine, Father."

"The Archbishop's office spoke highly of you, Michael," said Padraic. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to see on the tour?"

"The Renaissance artists interest me most," answered Michael, which was true. "But I'd be interested in seeing the ancient works as well."

Padraic grinned, making him seem even younger than he looked. "Well, there are plenty of both around here. Shall we get started?"

Padraic led Michael upstairs and showed him the wooden scale model of Vatican City, pointing out the route they would take through the Museum to the Sistine Chapel at the end. Michael listened intently but concentrated on committing the structure to memory, confirming his planned escape routes in case he needed to make a fast getaway later.

The two of them began the long walk through the exhibits, empty after hours. "So do you give many tours?"

Padraic laughed. "Me? No, I'm on leave from the seminary at St. Malachy's College in Belfast, doing research for an advanced degree in canonical law. But I happened to be available, and I enjoy the museum, so I volunteered to show you around."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

Padraic shrugged. "It's my pleasure. Like I said, I enjoy the museum."

While they moved farther into the structure, Michael could feel the integrated wards surrounding him, definitely Sentinel magic and obviously built with skill over time. Simultaneously, he could feel the tingle of holy ground from generations of worship. It was an odd sensation but not unpleasant.

Finally, they walked down the shallow steps to the Sistine Chapel. The priest had a word with the guards, who opened the doors for him and Michael to enter, then followed them inside and took up position inside the room. Padraic gazed up at the ceiling in respectful silence.

Michael looked up and was stunned at Michelangelo's vivid images of prehistory, from the creation of the world, and Man to rule it, to the Fall from Grace, and the Great Flood. He drew upon his Gift and altered his eyes to enhance his vision, to better pick out the subtle details etched into the face of God. _Magnificent._

He caught himself mentally. _You're not here to gawk; you have a job to do._ He turned to face the sanctuary, ostensibly to examine the harrowing frescoes of the Day of Judgment, and began silently casting the charm he had been given. He lost his concentration when he was picked up and thrown across the room to crash into the altar.

The spellform collapsed, exploding outward in a shockwave of multicolored light and sound that shattered the altar into fragments around him, the heavy crucifix barely missing Michael's head as it fell to the floor.

Padraic was knocked off his feet by the blast, but the two guards immediately came running toward the young man who had appeared in the center of the chapel. The new arrival punched the first guard in the face, caving in his skull. The second guard attacked with his baton when the first guard fell, but the man blocked with his forearm, then tore open the guard's throat with the long, curved talons that extended from his fingertips.

Even without the evidence of the man's claws and bright red eyes, Michael could feel the Nightwalker's malignant aura now that he wasn't shielding his presence. The Sentinel got hurriedly to his feet and surrounded himself in a kinetic shield, circling the vampire at a safe distance. _No point in hiding now. How the hell did he get this deep into the defenses?_

The Nightwalker laughed at Michael's expression, his fangs exposed. "Surprised?" he asked in English. "It took the combined abilities of fifty spellcasters to decode the mystical fortifications on this room and give me the strength to enter holy ground unharmed." He watched, clearly unimpressed, as Michael maneuver for position. "I am Fortunato Tribunus Ellestan. What is your name, Sentinel?"

"Michael Sebastian Danvers," answered Michael. "Are we buddies now?"

The Nightwalker snorted. "Hardly. But I do not often kill children. We knew Sentinels had no honor, but to send a boy to do their dirty work is despicable. Do you have family you wish to know of your end?"

"Like I'd tell you," said Michael. He allowed his fingers to grow talons while he searched his repertoire for a form that would give him even a chance at survival. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"The Inquisition knew of the records your people discovered and guessed that you would be forced to act." The vampire shrugged. "One of our spies learned of your request to visit the chapel after hours. It was not so hard to infer that you meant to lay a trap for Cardinal Lambert here, a place where you knew he would have to be present for the election. But I wasn't sure until you began your casting."

Michael opened his mouth as if to reply but then sprang at the vampire with claws extended.

Fortunato stepped lightly to the side and struck at Michael with both fists, knocking him out of the air.

The Sentinel fell heavily to the floor and then rolled to a crouch, trying to ignore the pain of his cracked ribs.

The Nightwalker snarled at him. "That was a warning, boy. Leave now and keep your life. Test me again, and I will end you."

Michael said nothing, only shifted form to that of a griffin and leapt to attack, claws extended to rend.

Fortunato grabbed the Sentinel's right foreleg and twisted to the side, casually snapping Michael's arm as he slammed the shapeshifter to the floor. The vampire slashed his claws across Michael's throat, and the boy narrowly avoided a death wound by shifting form again, breaking free during the transition between fixed forms when his body was most mutable, flowing like quicksilver out of Fortunato's grasp.

Michael reformed into a chimera, and he limped out of reach as best he could, keeping the Nightwalker at bay with his scorpion's tail. Slash wounds he could fix by shifting, but repairing broken bones on the fly required significant expenditures of stamina and mystical power, which he couldn't afford without leaving himself lethally vulnerable. So he shored up the muscle mass around the broken limb into a makeshift splint and tried not to scream with every step.

The Nightwalker smirked at Michael's obviously crippling injury, then moved in to finish him off, easily dodging the Sentinel's sting.

Suddenly, Padraic stepped forward and waved a silver flask in the vampire's face, splashing him with an amber liquid. Fortunato screamed as the liquid burst into flames, charring his flesh. He batted the flask out of the priest's hand as he stumbled backward.

Padraic grabbed hold of the heavy crucifix from the ruins of the altar. "St. Michael, defend us in battle!" he yelled while he brandished it like a club.

The Nightwalker snarled as the flames went out, leaving his burned skin scarred with ashes. He circled the priest beyond the reach of Padraic's weapon.

Then Michael, in human form once more, hobbled forward and laid his good hand on the cross next to Padraic's. "St. Michael, defend us in battle," he repeated, completing the spell he dredged out of his memory.

The crucifix flared with bright blue light, and a circle of azure flames exploded outward to engulf the rest of the room. The Nightwalker attempted to teleport away—too late—only to be consumed by fire.

Michael saw this in the instant before the Faith Ward formed fully, then his mind expanded into the space between moments, and he saw another life stretch before him.

He watched Padraic's humble upbringing, turning to the Church for an education and a way out of poverty, with only the slightest conception of the demands of the priesthood. He watched as the young man took his vows out of duty to his benefactors and to maintain his parents' pride at their son's accomplishments, rather than any real commitment to the Church or its teachings. Finally, he saw Padraic's horror when Fortunato revealed himself and the uncertain leap of faith into the arcane knowledge of the Church that he had previously dismissed as superstition.

The spell faded, leaving them both standing in the center of the scorched floor of the chapel, profaned by murder and resanctified in holy fire.

Michael stepped back first, dropping his hand from the cross. He flexed his wounded arm, finding it healed. He glanced at the flask on the floor, lying in a pool of pale yellow liquid. "Do you always carry holy water on you?"

Padraic carefully laid the crucifix upright against the front wall, beneath the image of Christ with arms raised in judgment, and then turned back to Michael. "It was whiskey. I had to improvise." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I saw you, Sentinel. Everything you are, all that you've become. I saw it all. You came to kill Cardinal Lambert."

Michael's eyes were hard as he met Padraic's stare. "If necessary."

Padraic's eyes drifted to the spill of dust where Fortunato had fallen. "If you could call on heaven for assistance, why didn't you do so earlier?"

Michael shrugged, following his gaze. "A Faith Ward is unpredictable. If the intent isn't pure, then the invocation may be rejected by the Light. It can't be depended upon in a fight, so it's not often used except in emergencies."

"Indeed," said Padraic, turning his head to look sidelong at Michael. "But could it be that the Light is dependable, only it finds your actions in its cause to be unworthy?"

Michael snorted, picking the silver flask from the floor and taking a sip. _Damn, that burns._ He screwed the cap back on and tossed it to the priest. "I'm not here to debate theology with you."

"No, you're here to commit murder," answered Padraic as he caught the flask with one hand, his expression stormy. "You're no better than that _thing_. At least it didn't pretend to be doing God's work." He folded his arms and glared at Michael. "How do you live with yourself?"

Michael sighed. "I live for the Light; I die for the Light. I don't have a choice."

"The Nightwalkers are lost to God," answered Padraic, implacable in his anger. "They don't have a choice in what they are, not really. You have a soul. You do have a choice, whether you acknowledge it or not. Take responsibility for who and what you are, Sentinel. Otherwise, you're a coward, no matter what lies you tell yourself to find absolution." He unscrewed the cap on the flask and swallowed the last of the liquor before turning away from Michael to regard the faces of the damned and the risen dead at the base of _The Last Judgment_. "Now get out. Your mission is a failure."

Michael snarled at him and then walked away. "I am _not_ a coward," he muttered under his breath.
Chapter 7

Michael walked into the main room of the safehouse to find the others already there and waiting for him. He steeled his resolve in the face of their expectant expressions. "I wasn't able to plant the charm. A Nightwalker penetrated the chapel and attacked us."

Tacitus cocked his head and looked at him with new respect. "A Nightwalker strong enough to attack you on holy ground and _you're_ the one who walked away? How did you beat him?"

"Faith Ward."

Constanzo frowned. "Witnesses?"

"Father Padraic saw. He didn't think much of our cause."

"How much does he know?" Benedetto scowled at him.

"Something happened in the ward. We saw everything about each other, more than we would have even if we were linked."

Gina nodded. "An akashic event. It happens sometimes when invoking powers sourced outside of time."

"So he knows everything that you knew," said Alessa thoughtfully. "Including the target."

"Yes." Michael turned to Constanzo with an expression of mute apology. "We may have to abort."

Benedetto laughed. "That might be difficult, seeing as we already eliminated Lambert."

Michael snapped his head around to stare at the Neapolitan Sentinel in shock. "Tonight was about preparation and reconnaissance! Why did you kill him?"

"Your teammates confirmed that he was compromised," said Alessa. "Benedetto's people were already standing by, just waiting for the order to strike. We took him out during the drive from the airport."

Michael face grew red. "Why wasn't any of this stated at the briefing?"

Benedetto snorted. "Because the Air Sentinels calculated an eighty percent chance that the Inquisition would be waiting for you. If you were captured, you couldn't give away our real intent."

Michael turned slowly to face Constanzo. "You sent me in as a decoy?"

Constanzo met his gaze. "I did."

Michael felt his heart racing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I hoped you would escape the trap, but if I was wrong, you couldn't be allowed to know our true plans."

"Why me?" whispered Michael.

"Because you were most expendable," answered Benedetto. The older Sentinel laughed harshly. "A decoy is all you're good for."

Michael never took his eyes off Constanzo's face, and his mentor didn't flinch even once at Benedetto's words.

Michael walked out of the main room toward the barracks. When he got to the narrow cot they had assigned him, he gathered the few belongings he had brought and shoved them into his knapsack. He slipped the straps over his shoulders and turned to leave.

Constanzo watched him from the door. "It was nothing personal."

Michael snarled. "Neither is this. If you thought I was expendable, you should have told me. If I don't deserve that much truth, then there's no reason for me to stay."

Constanzo sighed. "You're a good soldier, Michael, but you're not a warrior. Maybe you will be someday, but until then, you need a different environment to reach your potential." He held out a sealed envelope. "Take this."

Michael stared at the envelope suspiciously. "What is it? Money?"

Constanzo shook his head. "Only in part. No one expects you to face what we do without some compensation. Consider it back pay with severance. But I have also written you a letter of introduction to the Wind of Earth."

Michael blinked, his anger suddenly forgotten. "The Armistice?"

"Go home, Michael. Learn to be something other than a warrior, if you wish."

Michael took the letter and slipped it into his jacket. "Goodbye, Constanzo."

"The people of the Armistice have a saying, I'm told: magic requires sacrifice. You're a Sentinel, not my son. I hope you understand the difference." Constanzo stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear.

"I understand," said Michael as he walked past. "That doesn't mean I forgive you."
Chapter 8

Two days later

Padraic slumped against the park bench and idly watched the flowers waving in the breeze. The chill of autumn was finally finding root. It wouldn't be long now before the natural world slipped back into slumber. _I should be so lucky._

He had made his report immediately that the Cardinal had been targeted for assassination, only to discover that he was already too late.

It had been obvious to everyone who had witnessed the car crash that it was a freak accident. The tire blew out, and the Cardinal's vehicle had lost control and slammed into a wall at full speed. The driver was protected by the airbag and walked away, but the priest wasn't even wearing his seat belt. It was simple bad luck.

Except that Padraic knew it wasn't.

After two solid days of interrogation, he had been told in no uncertain terms that the death was accidental, and his talk of supernatural intrigue was not to be repeated. The Church was mourning the loss of a great man, and the faithful had no need of a sensationalist distraction. There was no conspiracy, no nefarious plot, and any attempt by Padraic to spread his ridiculous story would result in severe penalties.

Cardinal Liam had recalled him to Belfast, but Padraic was assured that if he worked hard and made certain he wasn't noticed, eventually the censure would be lifted. He had a promising career in the Church, they told him, but only if he kept silent.

So Padraic closed his mouth and packed. He had an early flight to catch, so this was his last chance to visit the Vatican gardens. Possibly, it might be the last time ever he walked the grounds of the Holy City.

A bird dropped on to the bench next to him. _Some kind of hawk? Strange that a bird of prey would land without there being food on the ground._

The bird's shape flowed like water, blurring into an amorphous silver mass that finally settled into the shape of a man carrying a knapsack. A man he knew.

"What do you want, Michael?" Padraic was too tired even to be outraged at the Sentinel's sudden appearance.

Michael slipped his pack off his shoulders onto the ground and leaned back against the bench. "Did you get in trouble?"

"I'm being sent home in disgrace, if that's what you're asking," answered Padraic in a sour voice. "Why are you still in Rome? You finished what you started."

"No," said Michael, "no, I didn't." He fidgeted with the straps of his backpack. "You were right. I was a coward. I joined them out of desperation and stayed because I felt obligated. It's time I took responsibility for my life and made my own choices. So I'm leaving and going back to America."

Padraic frowned. The knowledge he had absorbed from Michael was relatively fresh in his mind, but it was fading slowly, becoming more of a waking dream than a memory. "Isn't there some kind of treaty in America?"

"Yes," said Michael. "I've heard a lot of people talking about it, how the American Sentinels turned their back on duty and began collaborating with the enemy." He raised his gaze to meet Padraic's. "But the Sentinels over here are envious, too. The Armistice broke the cycle of war and death. It changed what we were to something different. I _want_ that."

Padraic heard the tone of longing in the Sentinel's voice and let go much of his anger. "Good luck, Michael," he said softly. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Yeah, thanks." Michael got to his feet and swung the pack onto his shoulders. "And did you find what _you_ were looking for?"

Padraic frowned in confusion. "I wasn't looking for anything."

Michael chuckled, looking down on him with pity. "You wanted to believe in something, something more than human. Well, congratulations. Now you know. The higher and lower powers exist, and they don't give a damn about us."

"Perhaps," said Padraic. "Or perhaps this world is a test of faith."

"Oh, spare me." Michael rolled his eyes. "What do you know about faith, Padraic? You joined up with the Church because it made you feel like you were part of something greater, just like I did with Constanzo."

"And yet here you are, forsaking that comfort to strike out on your own path," answered the priest. "As you said, now I know."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? You fought off a vampire and found God?"

"You called out to Heaven, and it answered. You say the Gift opened your eyes to the real world, but you've become so cynical that you have forgotten the wonders that you've uncovered."

Michael scowled. "There's nothing wonderful about the Gift. It's a curse."

"Only if you allow it to be." Padraic stood, and now it was he who looked down on Michael. "You opened my eyes, Sentinel, and I thank you for the insight. But if all you see in your world is fear and death, then your eyes are closed, and I don't envy you the dark places where your road will lead."

Michael said nothing, merely watched him silently.

Padraic walked away without looking back.
Chapter 9

October 2039; Armistice Security New York City Chapterhouse, Immigration level; Three weeks later

Michael sat quietly in the empty room, waiting. The Test of Reason had been a challenge, but he'd managed to keep his cool when the vampire examiner dropped his shields. After that, he'd merely answered their questions until he was so tired he couldn't think straight. It had taken him weeks to fly across the ocean via Iceland and Greenland. He had decided against using Constanzo's money to buy a plane ticket. _If Armistice Security doesn't find a use for me, I'll need that money to survive until I find a way to support myself._

The journey had been a grueling but ultimately pleasurable experience. He had discovered a great fondness for flying. Before, the shape of a bird had been functional to him, a way to get from place to place. Now he enjoyed the transition to a creature of the air, only landing long enough to eat and sleep. Then he hit the coastal defense barrier around North America and was required to come here for processing.

_What's taking so long? I thought entrance into the Armistice Zone was a formality. I signed their treaty, and I passed their tests. What more do they want?_ His musings were interrupted when the door opened and an Asian man entered. He was in his late forties and dressed in a charcoal gray suit.

The Asian man held out his hand. "Hello, Michael. It's a pleasure to meet you. I wonder if we could chat for a moment?"

_Great. Another interview._ He didn't allow his impatience to show as he shook the proffered hand. "Sure."

The Asian man pulled up a chair and sat across from Michael. Then he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the envelope containing the letter of introduction that Constanzo had written. "Your clan leader speaks very highly of your maturity and intelligence."

Michael reddened. The strain of the last several weeks came to a boil, and his temper snapped. "Do you often make a practice of reading other people's mail?" He raised his gaze defiantly to meet the eyes of the interviewer.

_EARTH._

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Only when it's addressed to me."

Michael's face drained of color. "My Lord, I apologize. I didn't realize—"

The other Sentinel chuckled. "It's fine. I should have introduced myself. I am Takeshi Nakamura, the Wind of Earth. I am also Director of Armistice Security. Normally, I don't deal with provisional citizenship processing, but the local chapterhouse staff felt your case was unusual enough to warrant my direct involvement."

Michael's heart quailed before Takeshi's intense scrutiny. "How is my case unusual? Are you going to turn me away?"

Takeshi shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I have a proposition for you, if you will hear me out."

_Proposition?_ "I'm listening."

"You requested provisional citizenship as required to enter the Armistice Zone, but you also applied to Armistice Security as a path toward full citizenship and access to the Hidden Cities."

_This is it. Make or break time._ "That's right. I might not be the best fighter in the world, but if you can use me, then I would like to join you."

"Why?" Takeshi's expression was unreadable.

Michael blinked. "Why what?"

"Why do you want to enter the Hidden Cities? You're home. Haven't you considered returning to your family?"

"I considered it," whispered Michael. "But it's too dangerous. They'd never understand what I've become, what monsters I could lead back to them."

"This is the Armistice Zone, Michael. There are no monsters here."

"Can you promise me that?"

Takeshi sighed. "I suppose not. In any case, your application was reviewed by the admission AIs, and that's why you were referred for additional tests."

"And? What did they say?"

"Your combat capabilities, while appropriate for your level of physical development, are insufficient for duty as an Armistice Security field agent. They thought about using you as an intelligence analyst, but you don't have enough of the Gift of Air to give you the ability to run strategic simulations, so you wouldn't be able to function independently at the required level for employment."

Michael slumped in his seat. "I see."

"You demonstrated very high aptitudes for science and mathematics, however, so they thought you might be better suited to scholarship."

_What?_ "Excuse me?" Michael sat up straight.

"I understand you were taking undergraduate classes before you kindled."

"That's right."

Takeshi regarded him gravely. "Michael, what do you know about the Spacer Guild?"

Michael frowned. "Never heard of it."

"It's a civilian organization chartered with the administration of the Armistice space exploration and colonization programs." Takeshi steepled his fingers in front of himself. "If you're interested, I would be willing to sponsor you for admission to their Academy training program."

Michael's jaw dropped. "You want me to become an astronaut?"

"I honestly think it would be the best match we could offer you."

Michael took a deep breath. "This is real, right? You're not pulling my leg?"

Takeshi smiled faintly. "No, Michael. I am completely serious. If you accept this offer, you would immediately be advanced to full citizenship and have free passage throughout the Armistice Zone, both on Earth and throughout the solar system."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'throughout the solar system'?"

"In addition to their headquarters at the Citadel on Lunar Farside, the Guild has colonies in Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune space, as well as several artificial habitats in Earth orbit. The Guild Academy is located at the Citadel, so you would relocate there to begin your training."

Michael's pulse roared in his ears, and he felt faint. "How long would I be gone?"

"The training program is normally three to five years, depending on how you specialize. Given the progress of your academic career up to this point, however, I suspect you'll be able to finish early. After that, the Guild will work with you on a mutually agreeable posting." Takeshi cocked his head. "Are you up for it?"

_Another profession my parents didn't plan for._ Michael got to his feet. "I'm in."
Chapter 10

November 2039; Spacer Guild Academy, the Citadel, Lunar Farside; Three weeks later

William looked over his shoulder at the younger cadet, who was eating by himself in the corner of the mess hall, reading a book. "Who's the new guy?"

Ariel followed his gaze as she sipped delicately at her glass of bloodwine. "That's Michael. Just enrolled a few weeks ago. Apparently he's some kind of genius, according to the AIs that administered his Test of Reason. When they saw his aptitude for mathematics, they offered him a position at the Academy and he jumped at the chance."

"I doubt he's even in his teens," answered William. "When did the Court start recruiting children?"

The other cadet shook her head. "He's a Sentinel, if you can believe it. Water."

William stared at her in shock. "But he's just a kid!"

"Kindled by accident and was actually an active hunter with one of the European clans, if the rumors are true." She shrugged. "They eventually decided he wasn't much of a combat asset and sent him on to us."

William looked back at Michael. "That must have been rough." His voice was thoughtful.

Ariel groaned. "And Mercury has a new project."

William snapped his head back around to face her and colored at her knowing look. "What? So I like hooking people up," he said defensively. "There's nothing wrong with making friends."

"You're not the Academy's Social Director, Will. Not to mention the fact that you usually have ulterior motives." The other cadet took a more critical look at Michael. "I know a kindled Sentinel is an adult under Armistice law, but still, isn't he a little young for you?"

William reddened. "Screw you, Cygnus. I'm not a pedophile. That's just sick." He picked up his tray of food and walked away from the table to the sounds of the Daywalker's musical laughter. Making his way through the upperclassmen's area, he entered the junior cadet's section of the hall and walked up to the half-empty table where Michael was sitting.

"Mind if I join you?"

The younger Sentinel looked up and focused his attention on the single silver bar on the left lapel of William's uniform jacket. "No, sir. Have a seat, if you like."

William rolled his eyes while he set his tray down on the table across from Michael and took a seat. He extended his hand. "Secundus William Thompson, Spacer Guild."

Michael shook the proffered hand briefly. "Primus Michael Danvers. Pleased to meet you, sir."

William smiled at the other cadet's wary tone. "I suppose I do rate a 'sir' from a lowly Primus, but there's no need to be so formal. I usually go by Will, or Mercury."

Michael cocked his head. "Interesting nickname."

William raised an eyebrow. "It's my callsign. Everyone chooses a name from human mythology on promotion to Second Stage, once they move off the simulators to the real thing. You didn't know that?"

"I..." Michael dropped his gaze. "I haven't really figured everything out yet about this place."

"I could show you around, if you like," answered William conspiratorially. "Introduce you to a few people."

Michael's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

William was taken aback at the sudden aura of hostility that surrounded the younger Sentinel. "Um ... to make friends?"

"No," said Michael in a cold voice. "I mean, why would you do that? What's in it for you?"

"Because I can, and nothing." William snorted. "You looked lonely, and I have connections. I lived in the Citadel for five years before joining the Academy. The Guild is a unique institution. Every one of us left behind who we were to take a step into a wider universe. I like getting people dialed into the social scene around here. If we can't lean on each other along the way, then what's the point?"

Michael's expression didn't soften. "No one does anything for free, sir. Is this some kind of come on?"

"Everyone thinks I'm a perv," muttered William. "No, Michael, it's not a come on. Obviously, I'm wasting my time here, so I'll let you finish your meal in peace." He got up from the table and grabbed his tray.

"Wait."

William paused and met Michael's stare with a challenging expression. "Why?"

Michael sighed. "I'm sorry. I have a problem with taking people at face value. I made that mistake with my clan back in Italy, and they betrayed me."

William put his tray back down on the table and settled back into his seat. "That must have been hard to swallow."

"It was," whispered Michael, lost in thought.

William looked away from the other Sentinel's obvious misery, and his gaze lit on the tablet next to the younger cadet's tray. "What are you reading?"

Michael blinked when he was distracted from his private thoughts. He glanced down at the electronic reader. "Oh, it's _The Holy Grail_ , by Rafael Tervilant."

William gaped at him. "You're reading the _Grail?_ As a _Primus?_ "

Michael nodded. "One of the instructors recommended it. He thought I might get a lot out of the book." He smiled. "He was right. It's brilliant."

_Holy shit. He really is a genius._ "Maybe you could help me through it, then. I'm having a lot of trouble with the chapter on gravitic vectors and spatial topology. Everything seems to relate back to that as a foundation, but I can't figure out the equations."

Michael's smile widened into a crooked grin. "Deal."
Chapter 11

November 2039; Academy Central Archives, the Citadel, Lunar Farside; Two weeks later

Michael manipulated the controls on his terminal to create a flat rectangle with a sphere embedded in the center hovering in the air above the holoprojector. "Look, think of it like this: you have a two-dimensional surface, and you overlay a sphere passing through the plane of the flat surface at the equator. Then you draw a line from the north pole of the globe to any location on the flat surface and map that point to the corresponding point where the line passes through the sphere."

William frowned as he studied the diagram. "Okay, so obviously, the points where the globe and the flat surface meet will stay the same, but the 2D points outside the sphere will map onto the upper hemisphere."

"Right. And the points inside the sphere?"

"Those will map to the lower hemisphere." William shrugged. "So you've mapped a plane to a sphere. What does that have to do with asymptotic functions?"

"Take a simple one, like _y = 1/x._ As _x_ gets closer to zero from the positive side, _y_ approaches positive infinity, and from the negative side, _y_ goes to negative infinity. And as _x_ goes to positive or negative infinity, _y_ drops to zero. Now, plot that same function on the sphere."

William typed in a series of commands on his terminal and raised an eyebrow when the computer drew an unbroken line passing through the upper and lower poles of the sphere.

Michael smiled at his surprise. "See? Just because a function is discontinuous in two dimensions doesn't mean that it can't be continuous in three. Gravitic vectors are like that. Just because they curve in three dimensions, doesn't mean they aren't straight in four."

William looked at him with a bemused expression. "Are you sure you're not an Air Sentinel?"

Michael chuckled and blanked the diagram. "Nah, they checked. My intelligence is pure human. No magic involved there. I'm just good at seeing how things fit together." He tapped the terminal controls and displayed the much more complex gravitic geometry problem they were working on.

"Wait, no more!" William rubbed at his eyes. "Let's take a break. Please?"

Michael checked his watch. "We've only got another hour before the library closes for system maintenance, anyway. Why don't we pick this up again tomorrow?"

William yawned. "Fine by me. Care to hit Parallax before bed?"

"Sure." They logged out of the Archive's system and walked the intersecting corridors of the Academy in companionable silence until they came to the cafe and pizzeria that catered to the Academy cadets when they were tired of the scientifically balanced meals of the main refectory. William immediately began chatting with some of his upperclassman friends while they waited in line, and Michael read the menu board to see what the specials were.

Michael felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see one of his classmates smiling brightly at him. "Hi, Melissa. What's up?"

"I finished my Astrophysics paper on stellar convection," she said with barely contained excitement. "Do you think you might have a chance to read it before I submit it for review and see if there's anything I missed?"

Michael blinked. "You want _me_ to read it?"

"Of course!" She nodded vigorously. "Everyone knows you're the Ace when it comes to energy physics. Please? It would mean a lot to me, and I'd be happy to help you with that sociology assignment you were having trouble with."

"Um, okay."

"You're the best!" She hugged him, just for a second, then stepped back, embarrassed. "Oh, sorry. I was just excited. My advisor said if the math works out, it might be publishable."

Michael gave her a half smile. "It's fine. Email me the file, and I'll take a look at it."

He watched her walk away for a moment, then turned back to the menu, only to find William watching him with an unreadable expression. "What?"

William snorted. "Nothing." He stepped up to the terminal to place his order.

They took their food to an empty table. Michael picked at his salad and watched William dig into his calzone with obvious relish. "You know, that isn't anything like a real calzone they serve in Italy."

William hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took another bite. Michael felt the older Sentinel's psychic probe reach out to him and linked with it. _"Well, I've never been to Italy,"_ thought William. _"So I'm not really missing anything for the lack of authenticity, am I? And besides, it tastes good."_

Michael smiled and stabbed his salad with his fork. _"I guess that makes sense."_

William chewed silently and watched Michael with a thoughtful expression. _"That's the first time I've seen you smile after mentioning Italy."_

Michael put down his fork and glared at William. _"I'm not going to talk about it, Will."_

_"I didn't ask you to; I was just making an observation. But I'll listen if you change your mind."_

Michael tried to hold onto the edge of his anger, but its heat had largely cooled. _Why not? They can't hurt you now. "I thought they were my friends, but they were only allies. Temporary allies, at that. They only cared about me as a resource to be used."_

_"Then they're idiots."_

Michael's face clouded with suspicion. _"Melissa seems to think so."_

William's smile seemed oddly brittle. _"She's a smart lady. For a Primus."_

_"And she knew I was having trouble in sociology."_

_"Did she, now?"_

_"Did you tell her?"_

William calmly took another bite of his calzone. _"Yes."_

Michael growled. _"Why?"_

_"Because she likes you."_

Michael forgot what he was going to say and dropped his fork. "Wait, what?" he said out loud.

William put down his food and gave Michael a hard look. "She likes you. She's been flirting with you for weeks, but you've been ignoring her. So I told her to appeal to your intellect if she wanted to get your attention."

Michael's face grew progressively redder. "She asked me to review her work as a way to _ask me out_?" he asked in harsh whisper.

"Would you have considered it otherwise?"

"Of course not! I'm thirteen years old, for Christ's sake!"

"She's sixteen and the closest person to you in age in the entire Academy."

"So you thought you would just set us up?"

"You need friends, Michael. It's not healthy the way you isolate yourself."

Michael folded his arms in front of himself. "I have friends."

"Name one."

"You."

William blinked. "You're tutoring me, Michael, and I'm seven years older than you."

"So what? Don't I get to decide who I get to call my friend?"

"Fair enough."

Michael picked up his fork and dug into his salad. _"Why are you so concerned about having friends?"_ he thought.

_"Long story."_

_"I've got time."_

William took a sip of his drink and considered it. _"All right. I was a U.S. Army brat. My dad moved around a lot while I was growing up, and I never stayed in one place very long. Friendships were a luxury, and they never lasted once I moved away. It wasn't until after he died in an accident when I was fifteen that my life settled down, and I actually had a chance to build a support network. That was in Germany. Then the next year, my mom and I were walking home when we saw two men fighting. We didn't think anything of it, just took another route home to go around them. Then the memories came for both of us, and we realized that at least one of them was a Nightwalker who'd lost control of his shields in the fight."_

_"Both of you?"_

_"Yeah. Mom realized that she wasn't equipped to fight a war with me in tow, and she brought us home to America as soon as she heard about the Armistice, so once again, I lost the people I was just starting to depend on. She joined Armistice Security and, given her choice of postings, thought that the Citadel would be the best environment to allow me to grow up without having to be involved in the war. I finished high school at the Citadel, which is why I know so many people here. The Academy was always there in the background, and when a bunch of my classmates joined up, I followed them, hoping to hold on to a few of the friendships I'd made."_

_"And your mom? Was she disappointed that you didn't follow her into Armistice Security?"_

_"Nah. She was ecstatic that I found a different path."_

Michael was silent for a few moments. Then he looked over his shoulder at Melissa, who was getting up from her table with her other friends. She noticed him watching and waved.

Michael took a deep breath and waved back.

He turned to William, his expression sober. _"All right, I'll try and make friends. But only for you."_

William grinned. _"Trust me, the second one is easier than the first."_
Chapter 12

January 2040, Assembly Hall, Spacer Guild Academy, Lunar Farside; Two months later

Michael sat alone in the darkened balcony, watching the revelers below while they gyrated on the makeshift dance floor. His eardrums throbbed with the pulsing music, and the flashing strobes of the holographic lightshow made him wince. He slumped in his seat, losing sight of the party going on below him, and stared at the soft white radiance of the floating globes of magic fire that created an ever-shifting mosaic of light and shadow across the vaulted ceiling.

A psychic probe tapped on his mental shields. Frowning at the intrusion, he reached out to it.

_"Deep thoughts?"_ asked William's voice.

Michael turned his head to see the other cadet lounging against the guardrail at the top of the stairs. _"How did you find me?"_

William snorted, then crossed the distance between them and plopped into the chair next to Michael's. _"I figured you'd get fed up with the party soon enough and go off by yourself to unwind. So I tried to think of the tallest place that could still have a view of the action and came up here."_ He glanced at the bottle of ginger beer in Michael's hand and smiled. _"Though I thought maybe you'd be curled up with a book, honestly."_

Michael took a sip of his drink and looked back at the ceiling again. _"You must be disappointed. I know you went to a lot of trouble to set up this party."_

_"I'd only be disappointed if you didn't come at all. What is it with you and heights, anyway?"_

Michael smiled wistfully as he lifted his eyes to gaze at the floating light globes again. _"It makes me feel like flying."_

William's gaze drifted down to Michael's lapel. He frowned. _"Where is it?"_

Michael started guiltily and snapped his gaze down to meet William's.

William's frown deepened. _"Well?"_

Michael opened his left hand, revealing the silver rectangle resting in his palm. _"I, um ... well, it didn't seem real, that's all."_

William plucked the silver bar from Michael's hand and then pinned it to the younger Sentinel's uniform jacket. _"You're a Secundus, Michael. Take pride in what you've accomplished. The rest of us do. Why else do you think they're all here?"_

Michael shrugged. _"Free booze?"_

William grinned at him. _"That, too."_

Michael squeezed William's hand. _"Thanks. For everything. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think I'm cut out to be the Popular One."_

William chuckled over their psychic link. _"I hardly had to do anything. At the rate you're going, you might finish the entire program in another six months. Everyone's in awe of you, Mickey. You're inspiring us all to work harder, just to live up to your example."_

Michael didn't have much to say to that, so he remained silent. The two of them sat quietly side by side for a few minutes. Finally, Michael got to his feet. "It's late. I think I'll turn in."

William looked dubious. "Are you sure? I mean, the party's got another couple of hours in it, at least."

"Maybe it does, but I don't." Michael yawned. "See you tomorrow, Merc."

William stood. "Good night, Michael." He took a few steps toward the stairs, then looked back. "Have you picked a callsign yet?"

Michael shook his head. "Not yet. I'll let you know when I think of something."

* * *

William danced wildly, much to the amusement of his partner. The Gift of Earth gave his movements grace and fluidity, or he might have been suspected of having a seizure. Finally, he turned a tight pirouette and took a bow, kissing the hand of the Third Stage cadet with whom he had been nominally dancing.

Ariel laughed and snatched her hand away. "Don't you ever stop flirting?"

"Never." He grinned. "Am I making any progress?"

"Not likely," she said, walking away from the improvised dance floor in the center of the hall toward the equally improvised wet bar in the corner.

William kept pace alongside her. "Why not? Give me one good reason."

She snorted. "Because you're barely twenty years old, and I'm three times your age." She reached the bar and immediately ordered a glass of bloodwine. "I have no intention of becoming one of your many conquests."

William folded his arms and leaned against the bar next to her. "What can I say? Older women excite me."

The bartender placed a glass of red liquor in front of her, and she picked it up, turning her head to give William an appraising look. "Really. Not younger men?"

The mirth drained out of William's face in an instant, replaced by anger. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing at all." She glanced around at the other revelers. "And where is the guest of honor, anyway?"

William stared sullenly at the floor. "How should I know?"

The Daywalker favored him with a knowing glance. "Because you always know."

He glared at her but said nothing.

She crooked her finger at him and then walked out of the Assembly Hall.

William followed her, feeling the beat of the music fade when they stepped into the outer hallway. They said nothing until they came to the great picture window looking out at tumbled gray rock of the Mare Arcanum that surrounded the Citadel.

She finished her drink and set the empty glass down on the handrail below the window. "William, you've been doing your best to get into my pants for over a year. Did you think I wouldn't notice when you stopped trying?"

"Everything changes," he muttered.

"He's a child."

"It's not like that, Ariel."

She raised an eyebrow and waited.

William wrapped his arms around himself and stared out the window. "He's so smart—and vulnerable. The things he's been through ... I can't imagine what it would have been like to willingly give up my family at his age. I just don't want him to lose any more of his innocence."

"Not even to you?" Her voice held no judgment.

William clenched his fists and turned to face her, his face contorted with outrage. "I would _never_ —"

"I know." She patted his shoulder while he tried to regain his train of thought. "I can read your emotions fairly clearly, and I can see you have nothing but the best intentions. Are you going to wait for him?"

William faced the window again, fighting for composure. "Five or six years isn't that long," he said softly.

"He might not want you even then."

He gave her the ghost of a smile. "I can be very persistent."

"Good luck, Mercury." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And good hunting," she whispered.
Chapter 13

January 2040; Tower Alpha One, Arboretum level; Two weeks later

William advanced to the next page of the holographic image of _The Grail_ and compared the calculations from his tablet to those in the answer key. Leaping to his feet, he let out a whoop of delight.

Michael, jolted back to wakefulness, lifted his arm away from his face and stared at the other cadet. Squinting in the artificial sunlight, he watched William caper madly between the trees. "Did you win the lottery or something?"

William laughed and danced back to where Michael was lying on the grass in the center of the meadow. He grabbed the younger man's hands and pulled Michael to his feet. Then William wrapped one arm around Michael's waist and dragged him, semi-willingly, in a half circle. "Dance with me!"

Michael rolled his eyes but tried to match his steps to William's. Finally, William let go of him and stepped back. "Mickey, you're a terrible dancer."

Michael shrugged and sat on a marble bench at the edge of the clearing. "I never learned."

William smirked at him. "Well, at least there's something I'm better at than you. Until I teach you some real moves, that is."

Michael tilted his head. "What's gotten into you?"

William picked his tablet off the grass and held it out to Michael.

Michael took the flat slab of acrylic and tapped the surface to activate the embedded electronics. Immediately, William's computations appeared, hovering just a millimeter above the clear screen. Michael scrolled through the equations, nodding to himself. Finally, he looked up at William and grinned. "Congratulations."

The older cadet threw up his hands. "Are you kidding me? Three weeks I've been trying to plot a course between that set of gravity wells in the last chapter! When I finally get it right, all you have to say is 'congratulations'?"

"Just kidding." Michael laughed at William's annoyance. "Will, I always knew you'd get the hang of sublight navigation. You just had to believe in yourself. You're going to be a terrific pilot, and I'm going to be right beside you when you earn your second silver."

William snorted, mollified. "By the time I make third-stage, you'll probably be working on your second gold bar."

Michael's smile wilted, and he dropped his gaze to stare at the tablet again, plainly uncomfortable. "Maybe. Does that bother you?"

William's took two steps forward and touched his fingertips to his best friend's cheek. "Mickey, if I had a tenth of your brain, I'd still skate through this program ahead of half the cadets in the Academy. You've got to move at your own pace, and I respect that so much. Believe me when I say that I can't wait until the day I stand next to _you_ when you make Captain."

Michael blushed and pulled away. "Thanks, I guess—"

William's tablet suddenly glowed red, as did Michael's lying forgotten on the grass. The voice of Chancellor Adair, the head of the Academy, filled the Arboretum. "All cadets are to meet at the Assembly Hall at 1600 hours. Attendance is mandatory."

William blinked and glanced at his watch. "That's in less than fifteen minutes. What the hell was that about?"

Michael shrugged and grabbed his gray uniform jacket off the marble bench. He slipped it on over his long-sleeved T-shirt. "I guess we'll find out at the meeting." Fastening the buttons with one hand, he bent to gather up the rest of his belongings with the other.

William grabbed his things and followed Michael down the forest trail back to the main teleport gateway. There was a knot of Cadets and other Citadel personnel milling around next to the gate while they waited their turn to teleport out. He picked Ariel out of the crowd and walked to her side. "Hey, Cygnus. Do you know what this meeting's about?"

She gave him a withering glare. "Are you stoned or is there some other earth-shaking crisis going on that I don't know about? It's about Los Angeles, of course." She stepped onto the teleport disk when a space opened up.

Michael stood next to William and frowned. "What about Los Angeles?"

Her eyes widened. "You don't know? Seriously?"

"Cygnus—" began William, but then a white glow surrounded the people on the platform, and they disappeared. "Nuts."

Michael headed for the back of the line. "Whatever. We'll find out soon enough."

Ten minutes later, Michael and William took their seats while Chancellor Adair strode to the podium at the center of the stage. Despite his position as an administrator, Adair walked with the effortless grace imparted by the Sentinel Gift of Earth, ready for combat at any moment. He swept the room with an imperious gaze to estimate the number of students present, then proceeded directly to the heart of the matter.

"Many of you will have already heard the news, so let me be brief. Approximately ninety minutes ago, a terrorist cell hijacked a nationally televised entertainment event in Los Angeles and threatened to destroy the city with a stolen nuclear device if their demands were not met. For reasons of their own, the Triumvirate chose to break with established policy and intervene, sending a single operative, the Daywalker Nicholas Magister Luscian, to openly negotiate. What you are about to see is the television broadcast that humans saw throughout the United States, which was then picked by the various news services and rebroadcast worldwide."

Adair walked off the stage, and the silver rectangle of a virtual screen opened across the length of the auditorium. An image took shape of a middle-aged woman in a gray suit, holding a shotgun, surrounded by men in gauze masks armed with machine pistols. A high-pitched chime sounded throughout the hall, and a bright light coalesced into the shape of a fair-skinned blond man about thirty years old, standing calmly on the stage. He was dressed casually in a short-sleeved white linen shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. The terrorists wasted no time in surrounding him with weapons held at the ready.

The man raised his hands calmly. "Peace, Medusa. I am not here to hurt you." His voice echoed through the hall, perfectly relayed by the audio system even though he didn't have a microphone.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Medusa, her composure slipping momentarily.

He dropped his hands, meeting her eyes with casual arrogance. "My name is Nicholas Magister Luscian, but feel free to call me Nick if it will help you relax." He nodded amiably at the armed men that surrounded him. "I assure you I am no threat to you at this time. I am constrained by law from interfering in your operation."

Michael watched, mesmerized as the disaster unfolded. Finally, the screen went dark and Adair returned to the center podium before addressing the stunned cadets. "There's more, but I'm sure you get the gist of it. The humans are aware of us, and the world we knew has ended. As of now, the Triumvirate has not authorized any further public disclosures. Those of you with family or connections back on Earth should consider carefully what you're going to say to them, because this will probably be the main topic of conversation in the human world for quite a while. For the time being, however, until the dust settles, we go on as usual. The secrecy directive remains in force. Tell no one what you are or anything about the Armistice, unless you trust that person with your life. Because, if you confide in someone, not only will you be placing yourself at risk, but whomever you told will also become a target. All classes are cancelled for the rest of the week. Take some time to reflect on what's important and spend some time with your loved ones. That is all. Dismissed."

Michael got to his feet, his heartbeat pounding in his head, and stumbled past the other cadets while they made their way toward the doors. He made a beeline for the stairs instead of walking to the exit, pushing through the ranks of the first-stage cadets descending from the mezzanine. Ignoring their protests as he elbowed his way upstream, he finally broke from the pack and found himself alone in the empty balcony. He walked more slowly up the aisles to the upper tier and slumped into a seat at the highest point in the room, trying to catch his breath.

One sentence echoed in his mind, over and over again. _"The humans are aware of us, and the world we knew has ended."_

He closed his eyes and meditated to bring his emotions under control. His panic slowly subsided, and his thoughts grew more coherent. _He's right. Mom. Dad. They must know by now. Everyone knows. I can go home!_

"Icarus."

Michael's eyes snapped open, and he looked up to see Ariel looking down at him. "Cygnus? What are you doing here?"

She sat in a chair next to him. "Looking for you. Mercury is frantic. He's tearing up the Academy trying to find you. He's afraid you might do something drastic."

Michael frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, 'drastic'?"

She laid her hand over his. "You left your family to protect them, did you not? So they wouldn't be drawn into the war?"

Michael stared at their joined hands, her red-painted nails interspersed between his. "That's right," he whispered, his spirits sinking.

"Now that the humans know, the war will continue; only there will be four players at the table now, instead of three. There's no guarantee that the Children of the Day will side with us. Humanity has a long history of destroying what they can't understand or subjugate."

"My family would never turn on me," said Michael, but his voice wavered. _Do I know that for sure?_

The elder cadet squeezed his hand. "Michael ... I am a Daywalker. I have died twice: once at the hands of a Nightwalker and then again at the hands of the Redeemer. I know how hard it is to let go your entire life and walk into the unknown."

Michael pulled his hand back sharply. "Don't play games, Ariel. Say what you mean and be done with it."

Her face was grave as she turned her head to face him. "You can't go back, Icarus. If you reach out to them, not only will they be forced to become soldiers for one side or another, but you will find they won't welcome the fact that you're not their little boy anymore. You're a Sentinel, born to kill. You'll never be part of their world; they can only become part of yours. Do you think they'll thank you for it?"

Michael snarled in frustration. "They probably think I'm dead by now. They sacrificed so much to raise me. Don't you think I owe them the truth?"

"Obligation." She snorted. "Honor will be cold comfort if you get them killed."

Michael leapt to his feet and glared down at her. "I won't let that happen!"

"Humans destroy what they can't control," she answered, unperturbed at his show of temper. "A Sentinel cannot be controlled."

Michael said nothing more as he stomped away. He made his way silently down the corridors of the Academy to his quarters. Palming the security lock, he stepped inside, only to find the lights on and William pacing back and forth in the small central space next to the bed.

The two Sentinels stared impassively at each other, neither allowing his thoughts to show. Finally, William broke the silence. "Are you staying?"

Michael took a deep breath and let it out before answering. "I said my goodbyes, even if they never heard them out loud. They don't need to know. Not yet."

William nodded, not taking his eyes off Michael's. He reached backward and picked up Michael's tablet off the desk, which the younger Sentinel had left behind in the Assembly Hall. "More letters?"

Michael took the proffered computer, thinking of the scores of letters he had written to his parents in the months since the day he opened his eyes and walked away from them. "It's all I have."

William watched him with a melancholy expression. "No. It's not." Then he pushed past Michael and let himself out.

Michael watched him leave. _What was that about?_ Then he shook his head and sat at his desk, tapping the tablet's virtual keypad to activate its dictation mode. "Mom, Dad. It's been almost six months since the night I left. I miss you. One day, maybe we'll be together again. Until then, I just want to tell you that I love you both, and I hope that somehow, you know that I'm okay."

* * *

William stood in the hall outside Michael's door, his forehead against the cold metal as he eavesdropped with the expanded senses of the Sentinel Gift of Earth, more sensitive than any other creature in the world, including the vampires. As he listened to Michael tell his parents about the events of the day, he heard the slow beat of a non-human heartbeat behind him. Turning, he found Ariel watching him. "He's not going to leave."

She nodded. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." He sighed. "I almost told him."

She brushed her hair away from her crimson eyes. "Why?"

He dropped his gaze and stared at the floor. "So he would know that he's not alone here."

She lifted his chin with one finger, until he met her eyes. "You're not alone either, William."

He reached up and folded his hands over hers. "Ariel, I—"

She touched her finger to his lips. "Shhh."

He scrutinized her silently for a time, considering, before nodding once.

Then the two of them walked away, side by side.
Chapter 14

February 2040; Spacer Guild Academy, the Citadel, Lunar Farside; One month later

Michael palmed the touchpad for the security AI. _Locked! Fuck._ He quickly keyed in the override code that William had given him, then burst through the door when it unlocked. "Will! You'll never guess what—" Then he stumbled to a stop and stood there with his mouth agape as the door slid silently closed behind him.

William shuddered silently, eyes closed, and he thrust a few times more, then slumped in Ariel's arms. The Daywalker lifted her fangs away from his neck, delicately licking up the last of the blood from the wound as it healed. She turned her head to give Michael a cool stare, one eyebrow raised. "Don't you knock?"

Michael closed his mouth, and his face turned crimson. "I, uh, well, I didn't, um ... I ... sorry." The boy looked away, blushing furiously, trying not to see as she laid William gently down on the bedcovers and pulled herself free of her lover's body.

Unfortunately, the only piece of furniture in the corner of the room to which he averted his eyes was a full-length mirror that afforded Michael a perfect view as Ariel climbed naked out of bed to sift through the pile of cast-off clothing on the floor. She slipped her blouse over her shoulders and fastened it in front. Michael quickly snapped his gaze back toward the bed when she turned to face him, decently clothed.

"What is it, Michael?" She seemed perfectly at ease, despite the intimacy of his intrusion.

_I guess being dead for forty years teaches you not to sweat the little things, like modesty._ "I just wanted to show Will the announcement that came down the official newsfeeds."

She sat back down on the bed and laid her palm on William's chest. The Sentinel was breathing shallowly, eyes still closed. "You'll have to give him a minute. The blood magic seems to hit him fairly hard, and it takes him a few moments to break free of the mindlink and come back to himself."

Michael scuffed his feet on the carpet and said nothing, doing his best to become invisible, wishing the floor would open and swallow him up to end his embarrassment.

William's eyes fluttered open, and he took a deep breath. "Wow. Now _that_ was flash. Where did you learn that trick with—"

Michael cleared his throat loudly.

William craned his neck to see the source of the noise, and his eyes met Michael's.

Michael licked his lips, trying and failing to think of something appropriate to say.

William bolted to his feet and dashed into the adjoining bathroom in a blur, tapping his Gift for speed. A few seconds later, he stepped back into the room, a wide yellow towel wrapped around his waist, his face and torso reddened. "Jesus, Mickey! What the hell are you doing in here?"

"Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to bring you the news, and your door was locked, so I thought you were asleep, but you gave me the key code, so I didn't think you'd mind if I let myself in, and I didn't know you had company, and ... shit. Sorry." Michael's rapid-fire delivery trailed off, and he stared at the floor.

William sat on the bed next to Ariel. "I guess it doesn't really matter."

Michael lifted his head to glance at them. "So are the two of you seeing each other? I didn't realize."

"It wasn't a secret, Michael," answered Ariel in a soft voice, leaning back against the headboard. "We just didn't think you'd be interested."

Michael shrugged and gave them a sheepish grin. "It's fine with me. But if I'd known you guys were dating, I would have knocked before I used my key."

William straightened, his eyes wide. "We're not dating!" Then he looked at Ariel and faltered at her amused expression. "I mean, it's ... it's complicated," he finished, his voice fading.

Ariel apparently took pity on him and patted his cheek. Then she turned back to Michael. "So what's the big news?"

Michael held up the datasheet in his hand, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement. "They finished the Odyssey Shipyards!"

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she opened her mouth to speak, but William leaned forward abruptly and jerked the paper out of Michael's hand. "That's two months ahead of schedule!" yelled William, scanning quickly through the printed text.

Michael laughed. "I know! The vampire engineers completed the superstructure this morning, and they've pressurized the interior of the station. They're already accepting advance applications to join the crew of the construction team that will build the vessel once the master temporal manipulator is installed and the station goes online next March!"

William handed the page to Ariel and stared at Michael with a half smile. Then his mood sobered, and he sighed as he looked back and forth between the others. "The two of you should definitely apply, then."

Michael blinked. "We should all apply. This is a chance to be part of history, Will! You're not thinking of passing this up, are you?"

The corners of William's mouth drooped. "Be serious, Mickey. You're a genius at energy physics, and Ariel's already a better engineer than most of the instructors around here. You'll be shoo-ins. Me? I'm nobody."

It took Michael a moment to recover from his surprise. "That's not true! You've got plenty to offer!"

William snorted. "What can I do that you can't do better?"

Michael stared at him. "Will—"

"Michael, could you step outside for a moment?" asked Ariel softly. "I need to have a word with William in private."

Michael glanced at her, then focused his attention back on William for a few seconds. Shaking his head, he walked back to the door. "Fine." He opened the door and walked out, berating himself silently. _You're such an idiot. You walk in on them having sex, and then you drop an eight-year commitment on them. Of course they're not going to jump at the chance._ He dragged his feet down the corridor toward his own quarters. _Who'd want to spend almost a decade with a casual lover in an enclosed environment? They'd have to be crazy to even try._ His spirits sank. _Just another friend who's going to walk away from me. Why did I think Will would be any different?_

* * *

Ariel locked the door behind Michael while William pulled a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt out of the dresser. Then she gathered her own clothes together and went into the bathroom for privacy while she dressed.

William was sitting on the bed, head down, when she stepped back into the main room. She leaned against the wall and regarded him thoughtfully. "Talk to me."

"What's there to say?" he answered, not looking up. "The two of you have a shot. I don't have any special skills that would make me a prime candidate."

"Bullshit."

He glanced up at her, surprised. "What?"

She frowned in distaste. "Don't lie, Mercury. I read your paper last term on the population dynamics of enclosed societies. You're starting to make a name for yourself as a sociologist. They'll need people like you to manage the community once the Shipyards go online and the temporal shift walls off the interior from absolute time." She sat on the bed next to him and saw his hands tremble. "You're downplaying your skills. Deliberately. You've dreamed of being part of a bubble community like this for years, and you're always moaning about the fact that you missed out on the construction of the colonies and the Hidden Cities. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Are you really going to let it go? For what? How can you even consider giving up on your dream?"

"Eight years inside," he whispered. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. "Four months outside."

"Oh, Will." She covered her mouth, appalled. "It's Michael. That's why, isn't it? If he makes the cut and joins the crew, he'll walk out of there eight years older. You'll be the same age."

"He'll be a man," said William, his voice almost inaudible. "And I'll be waiting for him."

She took a deep breath at the resolve she could read in his emotions and the regret that bubbled just below the surface. "Is he worth it?"

William swallowed but didn't look away. When he spoke, his voice was steady. "Yes."

She wrapped him in her arms. "I'm sorry, William."

"Don't be sorry," he said in her ear. "I'm not."

She didn't need to read his emotions to know how much of a lie it was. But she said nothing. _Magic requires sacrifice._
Chapter 15

March 2040; Jumpvessel Prydwen, lunar space; six weeks later

"Recursion drive offline," said the ship's AI. "Transition to gravity drive complete."

Captain Jeffries looked at Michael. "Report."

Michael's fingers danced over the virtual keypad. "Spatial curvature at thirty percent and holding. Bearing to Cassandra Station: zero by zero degrees, range twenty thousand meters. Navigation vector is stable, with an estimated arrival time of thirty seconds." He grinned. "The board is green. Ready to engage auto-navigation on your order."

"No." The Captain didn't take his eyes off the virtual screen in front of them as the space station expanded.

Michael's smile slipped, and he stared at the Captain. "Sir?"

"You brought us this far, Cadet." The Captain turned away from the view and took his seat. "Finish it."

Michael blinked, then quickly recovered, turning his attention back to the instrument panel. "Arrival at staging area in fifteen seconds at present speed." He grasped the handles of the navigation matrix and gently pulled back on the controls. "Spatial curvature to ten percent. Velocity now two hundred fifty meters per second and falling. Communications, open a channel to Cassandra Control."

"Channel open," said the duty officer, tapping his console.

"Cassandra Control, this is _Prydwen_ Command. We are entering your traffic pattern on vector forty-seven by fifty degrees, range ten thousand meters."

"Vessel tracking confirmed. Stand by to engage automated landing protocols."

Michael licked his suddenly dry lips. "Negative, Cassandra. Request navigation vectors for manual approach."

"Manual navigation in a level five traffic zone is prohibited except to holders of Master Pilot rank with an overall rating of ninety percent or greater. Identify for credential verification."

"Tertius Michael Danvers, Spacer Guild Academy; Master Pilot rating ninety-eight percent."

"Voiceprint confirms identity. You are cleared to enter station traffic pattern epsilon. Be advised that if you scratch my paint, I will put a dent in your flight rating, Cadet."

Michael snorted. _AI humor._ "Cassandra, I'll bring her in so sweet, you'll want to buy me flowers afterward." The tension broken, he relaxed and lost himself in flight.

* * *

The Citadel Spaceport Hub, two hours later

Michael walked down the ramp from the airlock to see William and Ariel waiting for him in front of a crowd of cadets. One of them was carrying a sign emblazoned with the words "Hail the conquering hero!" along with Michael's sword-and-falcon seal, which Ariel had designed. When they caught sight of him, they all started clapping their hands in unison.

Michael blushed as he waved, trying to hide his nervousness at being the center of attention. When he reached the bottom of the ramp, he didn't even have time to speak before William wrapped him in a bear hug and lifted him off the ground.

"All right, everyone! Pipe down!" said Chancellor Adair when he walked into the room, followed by Takeshi Nakamura. "Give the man some air, for God's sake."

William set Michael down on the floor before backing away sheepishly.

Adair and Take made their way through the packed crowd, which parted before them as if by magic. Finally, they stood directly in front of Michael. "Stand up straight, Cadet Danvers," said Takeshi.

Michael stood at attention and tried not to breathe too loudly.

Adair looked him up and down with a critical eye. "Citadel Control, bear witness."

"Forensic recording enabled," answered the Citadel's municipal AI.

"Tertius Michael Sebastian Danvers, having completed the requirements of the field navigation examination, even beyond the flight instructor's expectations, I formally acknowledge your mastery of the final stage of the Academy training program." Adair turned to Takeshi. "Takeshi Nakamura, called the Wind of Earth, as sponsor of this Cadet, do you agree with my assessment?"

Take smiled slightly. "I do."

"Then there's no reason to beat around the bush." Adair faced Michael and held out his right hand. In the center of his palm was a single gold bar. "Cadet Danvers, by the power vested in me by the Spacer Guild of the Free People, I pronounce you fit to serve in a Fleet capacity and do hereby promote you to the rank of Ensign. Your new orders and ship assignment will be waiting when you return to quarters. Set and done this date over my seal and signature, Academy Chancellor Owen Adair, Spacer Guild."

The applause echoed around the room when Michael took the gold bar from the Commander's hand and pinned it to his own lapel. Then he carefully removed the two silver bars that were already there and handed them back.

Adair closed his fist around the two bars, and his expression cracked with a wide grin. "Congratulations."

Michael swallowed, overcome by the show of support. "Thank you, sir." He turned to Takeshi and bowed formally. "My lord, thank you for being here. I don't know where I'd be now if you hadn't offered me this opportunity."

Take inclined his head. "The honor was mine, Michael. I'm glad you're living up to your potential. Just don't rest on your laurels. I expect to be hearing great things about you in the years ahead." He stuck out his hand. "Good luck."

Michael shook his hand. "Yes, sir. I won't let you down."

Takeshi laughed. "Of that I have no doubt. Take care, Ensign." Then, after Michael shook Commander Adair's hand, the two senior Sentinels walked quietly through the crowd and left the Cadets to celebrate.

William slapped him on the back. "Come on, I want to see what you look like in green. Then we'll really get this party started."

* * *

Hours later, Michael stripped off the bright green jacket of his new uniform as he walked into his quarters. William followed behind him and flopped down on the bed.

Michael glared at him indignantly. "I seem to recall you having your own bed, William. This one is mine, and I'm beat. Now move it."

William sighed in mock despair, and then he sat up and swung his feet to the ground. "An officer for under six hours and you're already giving orders."

Michael chuckled and tapped a few keys on his desktop terminal to bring up his deployment instructions. "Looks like I'm shipping out tomorrow afternoon, on board the _Trident_."

"What's the duty station?" asked William, standing to look over Michael's soldier.

"Conventional pilot, junior grade. Guess I made an impression with this morning's landing."

William wrapped his arms around Michael from behind. "Of course you did. Don't you always? Where's she headed?"

Michael tapped a few more keys and then stiffened.

William felt the sudden tension and let go of the younger Sentinel. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

William frowned and reached past Michael to expand the virtual screen. He gasped. "Callisto?"

Michael sighed. "Looks like we're running supplies and personnel to the Odyssey Shipyards from the other colonies."

"That's great! You won't have to go far then, once the Shipyards are operational."

Michael said nothing.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

Michael sighed and stepped past William to lie down on the bed. "Even if I make it into the construction team, what if I can't cut it? Eight years is a long time."

William sat down beside him. "Yes, it is. But you're strong, Mickey. Stronger than anyone else I've ever met. Everyone in the Academy looks up to you now, but there are those in the Fleet who are going to look down on you for your age. Prove them wrong. I want you to take up this gauntlet and make it yours." He clasped Michael's hand. "Do it for me, Michael. I want to see you soar. And I want to be there when you get out, when no one will be able to dismiss you ever again, because you'll have made history." William hesitated. "I got you something. I hope you like it."

Michael gave him a quizzical look at the shift in his best friend's voice. "Of course I will, if it's from you."

William reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a gray velvet box. Wordlessly, he held it out to Michael.

Michael took the box and cracked open the lid. Inside was a spinner ring, made of gold and silver wire. "Nice."

William flashed him a grin. "Glad you think so." His mood sobered. "I told you that you'd be working on your second gold bar by the time I earned my second silver." He stroked a fingertip over the braided metal threads. "This is us, right now, so you don't forget about me."

Michael took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto his right ring finger. "That'll never happen, Will."

William looked away, lost in thought. "I hope you're right, Mickey. In fact, I'm counting on it."
Chapter 16

July 2040; Jumpvessel Victory, Neptune space; Four months later

"Charybdis Control, autonavigation is engaged." Michael lifted his hand from the controls.

"Confirmed, _Victory_. Thirty seconds to hard dock. Welcome back."

Michael turned to the Captain. "Sir, navigation sequence is complete, and we are on final approach."

Captain Merrick nodded. "Excellent work as always, Lieutenant. It's a shame we'll be losing you. Still, our loss is the _Odyssey's_ gain." He stuck out his hand. "Take care of yourself, Michael."

Michael shook his hand. "Thank you, sir. It's been an honor serving with you."

Merrick chuckled. "I'll bet. You are relieved, Lieutenant Danvers. Best of luck on your next assignment."

Michael bowed formally, then exited the command deck to make his way back to his quarters. He was already packed. He just needed to disembark, then catch the transport ship back to Callisto and the Engineering team he was supposed to lead in bringing the Odyssey Shipyards up to functional status. _Activation is still six months away. Just because you were tapped for the prep team doesn't mean they'll want you for the actual construction staff._ He snorted, absently spinning the ring on his right hand. _Way to think positive, Michael. Still, it will be good to see Cygnus again. Maybe Will can take a vacation and come visit, and the whole gang will be together again. Now that would be a birthday present worth having_. The older Sentinel had finally earned his second silver bar and started simulator training for jumpship navigation, grumbling that Michael had earned his second gold a week earlier. _He kept complaining on the comline that I'd lapped him and that he'd be pushing to make it to gold before I got any farther ahead of him._ Michael grinned at the thought of William. _What a goofball._

A soft chime sounded in his quarters, followed by the voice of the bridge communications officer. "Lieutenant Danvers? Charybdis Control reports that you have a priority videolink request waiting from Arcadia colony."

Michael frowned. "From whom?"

"They said it's from Ensign Ariel Daviroquir, sir, and that it was a personal emergency. We're close enough to Charybdis to use their FTL uplink and set up a real-time video conference. Would you like me to pipe it to your quarters?"

Michael set his duffle bag aside and sat at the desk. "That would be perfect, thanks."

"Stand by, sir. I'm setting up the link now."

A virtual screen opened above the desk, showing a test pattern. Then it cleared, and Ariel was looking back at him. "Hey, Cygnus. What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "Icarus, there's no easy way to tell you this."

Michael's heartbeat accelerated. "Then just say it. What happened?"

A single, bright red tear crept from her left eye as she stared at him. "Michael ... there's been an accident."

* * *

Michael lay on his bunk, curled into a ball, staring at the gold and silver ring cradled in his hand. _Recursion Dyssynchrony._ His thoughts were leaden while they circled the unfamiliar name. It had taken less than a minute to read the entry in the Armistice medical database relating to the condition, more due to the lack of hard information rather than his own diligence. _It's practically a myth. It can't be true._ He felt the tears threatening to fall once again and squeezed his eyes shut. _You can't be dead, Will. Please, tell me this is one of your elaborate pranks._

A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. He ignored it. Then it came again. Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet and opened the door.

Captain Merrick stood there. "Michael, I heard the news about Cadet Thompson. Was he a friend of yours?"

Suddenly Michael couldn't bear to hear the words of sympathy that the truth would bring. "No, sir. He was just a classmate. I tutored him in navigation physics, that's all."

Captain Merrick studied his face, then nodded. "Well, I know you were scheduled for some shore leave before starting work at Callisto. _Victory_ 's next run is to Earth, to pick up essential supplies for the outer colonies that don't have enough biosphere diversity to manufacture them from scratch. We can make a stop at the Citadel, if you want to try and make the funeral."

"I ... I'd appreciate that, sir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"No trouble, Lieutenant," said the captain. "RD is a curse. It can take anyone. Please accept my condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, sir, but we weren't very close." _Which is true,_ thought Michael as he closed and locked the door. He laid his forehead against the cold metal and closed his eyes. _A real friend wouldn't have left without saying goodbye._
Chapter 17

August 2040; Assembly Hall, Spacer Guild Academy, the Citadel, Lunar Farside; Five weeks later

Michael listened to the others speak, hearing the events of William's life that had come before the two of them had met. He felt oddly detached from the memorial service, like he was trapped in a surrealist painting. William's face stared down at them from the projected virtual screen above the stage, smiling as if the entire function was a private joke. Michael half expected the Sentinel to come bounding out from backstage, yelling, "April Fool!"

But it wasn't April.

Michael's eyes drifted to look at the ring on his finger and realized that his fists were clenched so hard his hands were turning white. He made a deliberate effort to remain calm and tried to think of something else. He turned his head to look at the faces of the crowd behind him. Most of them had been upperclassmen when Michael joined the Academy, faces he had known briefly in his meteoric rise through the ranks. A few of them were junior officers already, taking leave from their duty assignments to say goodbye. The Academy had been kind enough to delay the ceremony until they could arrive, or Michael would never have made it in time.

Recursion Dyssynchrony was such a rare and unexpected disease that there was no adequate way to screen for it beforehand. It manifested upon exposure to jumpdrive and triggered a violent and painful metabolic collapse, impossible to reverse by magic or medicine. Michael had not been able to bring himself to watch the video footage from the flight recorder of the training vessel that William had been piloting, but by all accounts it had been a horrific scene. The ship's AI had immediately made an emergency landing when William went into convulsions, but the Sentinel had already slipped into a coma by the time the doctors arrived from the Citadel. In minutes it was over, and William became just another statistic: a cautionary tale about the dangers of space travel.

They'd told Michael that it was pure luck that William had chosen to do the preprogrammed navigation course first rather than the manual flight test, or he might have flown the ship directly into the lunar surface at maximum velocity when he started to seize.

Michael didn't think it was very fucking lucky.

Briefly, his gaze touched on the two people who stood out from the crowd: a Nightwalker with dusky Spanish features, dressed in black formal attire, sitting in the back row; and Nicholas Jameson, the Ambassador to Humanity himself, wearing a cream-colored linen suit and a rather wistful expression while he watched the proceedings intently. _Damn tourists, come to gawk. Soaking up the tragedy, are you?_

Captain Merrick's psychic voice penetrated Michael's caustic thoughts. _"Eyes front, Lieutenant. William was a classmate of yours. Show a little respect."_

Michael snapped his head forward again, his face coloring. _"Sorry, sir. I was just wondering what the Ambassador and that Nightwalker are doing here. This is a Guild funeral. Dirtsiders shouldn't be part of this."_

_"The Ambassador is insane, if his actions are anything to go by. Who knows why he does anything? I didn't see the Nightwalker. What does he look like?"_ asked the more senior officer in silence, not turning around.

Michael passed along the image of the Nightwalker he'd seen sitting in the back row, while another of his old classmates came to the lectern to speak on behalf of the departed.

The Captain's eyes widened. Turning, he looked over his shoulder at the Nightwalker before facing the stage again. _"Oh, hell. I shouldn't be surprised. Of course he came. He always does."_

Michael blinked. _"Do you know him, sir?"_

The other officer sighed mentally. _"Rafael Tervilant."_

Michael glanced back, noticing the winged arrowhead that signified the rank of Master Pilot on the Nightwalker's left lapel.

_"Don't stare at him, Icarus."_ Merrick's thoughts were cold, angry. _"He deserves better from you."_

Michael swallowed and focused on the stage again with difficulty. _"But, sir, he's a legend! I used to study the textbook he wrote on the physics of zero gravity maneuvering. It was brilliant. Why is he out of uniform?"_

The senior officer turned to him with a frown. _"He's not Spacer Guild, Lieutenant. He had an accident and dropped out of the last stage of the Academy training program. Now, leave him alone and pay attention to the service."_

Michael looked back at the podium and saw Ariel step up to the lectern in the center of the stage.

The Daywalker scanned the audience impassively, until finally her eyes rested on Michael. When she finally spoke, she seemed to address her words directly to him alone, as if they were the only two people in the room.

"William Thompson had a reputation as womanizer, and I have no doubt that he pursued me as nothing more than a challenge. It was a game between us, to see how far he would go to try and make me his latest conquest. I thought he was a spoiled child, chasing after the things he couldn't have. Then, something changed. He changed. Yes, he still wanted me, but his attention was elsewhere, and I watched his personality evolve before my eyes. He was so shallow at the beginning, randomly driven by his passions. Then he began thinking of another person's needs over his own and found contentment in the other's happiness.

"It was a remarkable transformation. Suddenly, he grew depth and substance, and it was heartbreaking to watch while he finally found his focus, knowing that he couldn't have what he wanted unless he was willing to wait for the one he loved to be ready to accept him. In the end, I offered him what comfort I could, and I was pleased to name him both friend and lover."

She turned to the side then and gazed up at the image of William's face behind her. "Mercury, wherever you are, I hope you find some peace until the day the two of you can finally be together."

Michael watched, his mind reeling, as she walked off the stage, ignoring the whispers that followed in her wake. _Will was in love? With whom?_ He closed his eyes against the vertigo when the room seemed to spin though he sat perfectly still. A single question began to crowd out all his other thoughts, while his heart beat loudly in his ears. _Why didn't he tell me?_

* * *

After the ceremony, he wandered among the knots of mourners, receiving their sympathy and offering his own. People knew him here, had seen him with William, and there was no way he could pretend that the dead man was anything other than his best friend. Finally, when no one was looking, he slipped up the back stairs to the darkened and empty balcony, which had not been in use during the memorial service. He shifted his eyes to his more avian form and was easily able to pick out the person sitting silently in the semidarkness. He made his way to her side and sat down next to Ariel.

She said nothing, only continued to gaze at the ripples on the surface of her glass of bloodwine.

The two of them sat quietly together, a frozen tableau of shared and wordless grief.

Finally, she lifted her gaze and met his eyes while he watched her with concern. "Thank you."

Michael raised an eyebrow. That wasn't the first thing he expected her to say. "For what?"

"For letting me grieve and not immediately grilling me."

Michael looked away. "I do have questions, but they can wait. It doesn't matter anymore, who she was."

Ariel frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The girl." Michael sighed. "The one Will was in love with."

Ariel smiled sadly and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. "Icarus, you may be a genius, but in some ways you're still so incredibly naïve."

"Obviously," answered Michael, surprised at the bitterness that seeped into that one word. "Otherwise, he might have mentioned her to me."

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Don't ever change."

Michael stared at the floor. "Ariel—"

"It was you."

He snapped his head around to stare at her. "What?"

Her gaze was calm and direct when she faced him. "It was always you, Michael. Who else could it have been?"

"No." Michael felt his heart in his throat, and he gripped the arms of his seat tightly, as if they were in freefall. "No, Will wasn't like that."

"He wasn't a pedophile, if that's what you're thinking," she said. "He accepted that there could never be anything physical between you until your body grew to match your mind."

"I ... But—" Then the turmoil of his thoughts careened to a drunken stop. "That's why he wouldn't submit an application to the Odyssey team, isn't it? So I'd have a chance to grow up?" His gaze dropped to the ring on his finger. "God. He said it himself, that he was counting on me not to forget about him during the project. He planned it that way all along, to sweep me off my feet once I came out of there as an adult."

"He gave up his chance to be part of something greater," she said softly, "in exchange for the possibility that you might someday love him as an equal."

Michael slumped in his chair. "He _lied_ to me." The words came out as barely a whisper.

"He never lied. He just didn't think you were ready to know the whole truth."

Michael snarled, his eyes shifting to gold and long, curved fangs growing from his canine teeth. He slipped the ring off, hampered by the sharp claws that sprang from his fingertips. "Here. You can have this."

She shook her head. "Michael, he loved you."

Michael's hand shook with rage. "He didn't trust me! He thought I would turn on him if I knew the truth, so he pushed me into a course of action that would eventually make himself more attractive. That's not love; that's manipulation!"

She said nothing but didn't reach for the ring, either.

Michael shot to his feet. "Fine. You don't want it, maybe someone else will." He drew back his hand to throw the ring over the edge of the balcony.

The vampire moved so fast, even to his enhanced senses, that she simply flickered from seated to standing, her hand locked around his wrist in an iron grip. With her other hand, she grasped the ring and pulled it from his nerveless fingers. "You don't deserve this ring," she hissed in his ear, her eyes red and blazing.

Michael yanked his hand free. "You put out for him; maybe you earned it more."

She slapped him. Hard.

Michael stumbled backward and fell into a chair, dazed.

She slipped the ring into her pocket, hands shaking. When she faced him again, her eyes were blue, but her voice remained inhumanly cold when she spoke. "Someday, when you've had a chance to cool down, you're going to want this back."

Michael snorted, his cheek throbbing. "Keep it. The two of you fucking deserved each other."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then she turned away and walked back to the stairs.

Michael watched her go in silence, rubbing absently at the painful bruise on his face. "Liars," he whispered. "I don't need either of you."

He tried to ignore the tears that openly coursed down his cheeks. _Say it enough times, and maybe you'll even believe it yourself._ He wiped the moisture from his face. "Command access."

"Online," said a disembodied voice from above him.

"Open a channel to the Spacer Guild master deployment AI, please."

"Channel open."

"This is Lieutenant Michael Danvers, currently on leave prior to reporting for duty at Callisto Station. I would like to withdraw my application to join the Odyssey Project and seek an alternate posting."

"Stand by, Lieutenant. There is an alternate berth for a Senior Navigator onboard the Jumpvessel _Transcendent_ , Captain Martinius Ellestan commanding."

Michael blinked. "That's a Command-level position. I wouldn't think I'd be eligible to serve as a senior flight officer at my present rank."

"You would not. However, given your training record and the performance assessments offered by your shipmates on the Jumpvessels _Trident_ and _Victory_ , as well as the recommendations of Captains Jordan and Merrick of those two vessels respectively, your progress is sufficient to merit promotion to the rank of Lieutenant Commander at this time. Do you wish to accept this reassignment?"

_My third gold, five months after graduation._ Michael took a shaky breath. "Yes." _William would have been so proud._

"The reassignment request has been processed. The Guildmaster will rule on your commission upgrade within seventy-two hours. Should your application for advancement be approved, you may report to Cassandra Station for final deployment in seven days. Good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thank you," Michael answered woodenly. He tried not to think of the hollow feeling in his chest. _It's for the best._ He got to his feet and headed toward the Academy housing office to get some temporary quarters until his paperwork was complete.

The nagging voice of his conscience wouldn't leave him alone. _Are you giving up the Odyssey Project because you don't want it, or because he wanted it for you?_

He clenched his jaw. _He should have told me._

_Would you have loved him back?_

Michael stopped dead, to the annoyance of the person walking behind him. He ignored the angry glares of the people who pushed past him in the crowded hallway, lost in a silent pocket of stillness at the center of his mind. _No._

_Now who's the liar?_

Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking again. His vision blurred, and he blinked away new tears. _God damn you to hell, William. You should have told me._
Chapter 18

March 2041; Jumpvessel Transcendent, Jupiter space; Seven months later

Michael took his eyes off the view of Callisto to check his instrument panel one last time. "Recursion Drive is stable at fifteen hundred cycles per second."

The other pilot answered from the conventional navigation station on the opposite side of the command deck. "Spatial curvature at five percent and holding. You may disengage when ready."

"Changeover executed. Cycle frequency at zero." Michael tapped a few more keys, and the telltales on his board all went amber. "Recursion Drive shutdown protocol complete."

"Gravity drive is stable. Course vector zero by zero degrees, range one hundred thousand meters."

Captain Ellestan glanced at the conventional pilot. "Arrival time?"

"Given the amount of turbulence I'm reading in the atmosphere, I'll need to take this slow. Forty minutes, at least."

Captain Ellestan nodded and turned to Michael. "Very well. Commander, unless you have any objection, I'd like you to see to our guest and answer any questions he might have, whether about the colony or the Shipyard itself."

"No objections, sir," Michael answered dubiously. "But this is the Prince of the Dawn we're talking about. Wouldn't you prefer he work with someone a little more ... diplomatic?"

Captain Ellestan grinned, briefly showing the points of his fangs. "I only met the Redeemer once, when I reclaimed my soul, but I think you'll probably have a less traumatic time of it. Besides, by all accounts, you might need to brush up on your diplomatic skills yourself soon enough."

Michael was halfway down to the observation deck when the strangeness of that remark penetrated. _Why would I need to brush up on diplomacy?_

Then he stepped into the observation lounge to find Sean Rory Magister Jiao-long standing next to the armored glass wall, staring at the distant sphere of Jupiter. Michael took a moment to study this figure out of popular legend: the man who cut a deal with an angel in exchange for the cure for vampirism, who turned supernatural civilization on its head; the principal architect of the Armistice Declaration itself, and chairman of the Triumvirate Council that ruled over the Free People.

Michael eyed the black leather half-gloves he wore, which covered the cross-brands of the Grace, filled with heavenly light, primed to absolve or to destroy. Even with his own somewhat limited sensitivity to magic, Michael could feel the power radiating from him in waves. _No wonder Captain Ellestan didn't want to meet with him in person._ Vampires were territorial by nature, and Michael was sure that his Captain didn't wish to find himself kneeling on his own ship before that overpowering aura of strength. _Not surprising that the Redeemer shares his bed with a Sentinel, rather than one of his own._

That thought made him unconsciously touch his right thumb to the base of his ring finger, intending to spin the ring that no longer was there. Michael caught the gesture and flushed. _It's gone. Unless I'm willing to crawl to Cygnus and beg for it back, I should just accept that I willingly threw away my only real keepsake of him._

Shaking himself free of his regrets, he saw the Nightwalker turn away from the window with a shudder. "Speaker Sean?"

Rory glanced toward him and opened his mouth to speak, then his gaze fixed on the four rank bars on the left breast of Michael's uniform. _Surprise._

Rory recovered his train of thought after a moment. "Yes?"

Michael grinned. "Don't worry, my Lord. Pretty much everyone has that same reaction." He stepped forward into the room. "Captain Ellestan asked me to convey his compliments and inform you that we will arrive at Arcadia Colony within thirty minutes. In the meantime, he has asked me to answer any questions you might have, as this is your first trip to the Outer Colonies."

The two of them made small talk until the older man turned his attention to the massive white structure of the Odyssey Shipyards in Callisto orbit. "Is that it?"

Michael eyed the station, the pride of the Spacer Guild. "Yes, my Lord, that is definitely _it_."

"How long until they're ready to start?"

"The shipyards are fully operational, my Lord. The dedication ceremony is purely a gesture of respect to everyone who made this possible, to recognize their contribution to history." Michael stepped closer to the glass. "It took the vampires eighteen months to complete the superstructure, working in oxygen masks in hard vacuum. Once it was pressurized, they brought in the most skilled personnel from all of the other colonies. Nothing was left to chance. Only the best engineers and technical workers were selected to join the crew."

_And I could have been part of it, if I hadn't been so angry._ He squared his shoulders and focused on his guest. _I made a choice, and I will live with it. No regrets._

He pointed to the central sphere. "At the heart of the station is the master temporal manipulator they used to build the Hidden Cities. Next week, when the temporal distortion field goes online and accelerates relative time to maximum, the crew will operate in a fully self-contained environment for the eight years it will take to complete the vessel. This project will be the crowning achievement of the Spacer Guild, comparable to the establishment of the Colonies themselves."

Rory nodded, taking a few steps forward to stand directly to Michael's side. "I agree. It's the reason I chose to perform the dedication in person." He faced Michael with an unreadable expression. "Barring any unforeseen problems, the _Odyssey_ will be ready for flight within four months absolute time. Will you be on it?"

Michael's head snapped around, fully meeting the Nightwalker's gaze for the first time, and saw the signature of Sentinel power in his eyes. _AIR._

_The Wind of Air,_ Michael reminded himself, _born to be the most powerful telepath of the Sentinel race._ "My Lord, the _Odyssey_ will be the most coveted assignment in the history of space travel. The chances of securing a berth are slim to none without a proven track record. I am barely a year out of the Academy."

"But what a year it was, Icarus."

_Ah, shit._

Rory laughed at his bemused expression. "Yes, Michael, I know exactly who you are, even if I didn't recognize you at first. Guildmaster Thurgood is a friend of mine. He speaks very highly of you. In fact, he never shuts up about how brilliant you are. If it were up to him, he'd hand his job over to you in a heartbeat once he retires."

The Nightwalker tapped the four rank bars on Michael's uniform, his voice dropping in a conspiratorial whisper. "I hear the crews of all the ships you've served on, including this one, have been quietly gathering support among the Fleet Captains to put your name in contention as soon as you earn your fifth bar."

Michael's jaw dropped. _Fuck! Are you kidding me?_ "They can't do that!"

"Your shipmates seem quite determined, Commander. If you don't want the job, you'd better tell them that, and soon, or I suspect you're going to find yourself with a completely new set of primary duties."

_Riding herd over administrators and politicians? Not a chance in hell._ "My Lord, will you excuse me? I need to make some calls."

* * *

Michael turned off the three-way video link with Captains Merrick and Jordan.

"That was fairly decisive ploy," commented Captain Ellestan.

Michael frowned at him. "It wasn't a ploy. I'm a pilot. I'm not going to give up flying to spend my days playing political football at the Citadel."

Captain Ellestan regarded him thoughtfully. "Interesting."

"What?"

"You're not shielding your emotions. And you're entirely sincere as to your motives."

Michael shrugged, his face creased with confusion. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Ellestan chuckled. "I see. Sometimes I let your intellect blind me, and I forget how young you are." He smiled slightly. "Michael, you declined the highest office in the Guild because you wanted to keep flying. The other Captains will assume you meant that you would accept a comparable active duty position, if offered."

Michael was stunned. "That wasn't what I meant at all!"

Captain Ellestan squeezed his shoulder. "We've come to expect great things from you, Michael. They'll want to find you something unique to be the capstone of your career."

Michael tasted something metallic in his mouth and realized he'd bitten his tongue while he was grinding his teeth. He gave Captain Ellestan a sour look. "Sir, I just want to do my job, which I love. I'm not looking to be anyone's figurehead."

Captain Ellestan took a seat in one of the conference room chairs. "You might not be able to avoid it. You have great intelligence and an extraordinary skillset. The Guildmaster is hardly going to let that go to waste. We need people like you to be visible in high-profile roles. It's human nature."

_None of us are human._ He refrained from pointing out the obvious, since it would just seem a childish objection. "Human nature to do _what_? What does my visibility have to do with anything?"

"The Spacers need you, because people still want to believe in heroes," answered the Daywalker in a soft voice.

"I'm no hero." Michael stared at him, his heart thudding in his chest. "You can't put that on me, sir. I mean, I'm just a pilot. Granted, I'm young, but that's temporary. What could I possibly do to live up to that kind of expectation?"

The older Spacer folded his arms in front of himself and met Michael's bristling anger with an air of unconcern. "You were supposed to lead an engineering team with the Odyssey Project, so you're familiar with the schematics of the vessel and the issues inherent in her construction. The ship will need a crew, and you'd be a prime candidate."

Michael scowled. "That's a twenty-year commitment, minimum. Do you honestly think they'd take me on the first expedition to another star, just because I rose through the ranks quickly? Be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious. And it's the reason you rose through the ranks that is driving your career." The vampire raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. "You're a symbol. Orphaned by the Gift, you fought in the war and walked away, then blazed a brightly shining trail through the Academy. As an officer, you exceeded all expectations, while securing the trust and loyalty of the Spacers who served alongside you. It's an inspiring story, the epitome of the Spacer Guild."

Michael slumped into another chair. "All of that is true but irrelevant. I'm no one special. The only exceptional thing about me is my mind, and I was born that way. Anyone could have done what I did if they had my gifts."

Ellestan snorted. "Did you practice that line in the mirror?"

Michael lifted his gaze from the floor. "What line?"

"'I'm no one special.'" Captain Ellestan stood and walked toward the door. "That's a lie, Michael. Accept it and move on."

Michael answered with a tentative note to his voice. "Do you really think they'd offer me an engineering post on the _Odyssey_?"

The captain looked over his shoulder, plainly surprised. "Of course not."

Michael sighed. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

Ellestan raised an eyebrow. "I never said anything about you being an engineer."

_Huh?_ "I don't understand."

"I'm sure you don't." He paused at the door. "It'll come to you, eventually."

* * *

Michael walked down the gangway to the arrival deck. Ariel was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a closed expression.

_Obviously, she's not planning on making this easy on me._ "Lieutenant. It's been a long time."

Her eyes were hard. "Why are you here, Commander?"

"Ariel, I ... look, can we talk? Please?" He fidgeted under her silent scrutiny.

Finally, she shrugged. "The top brass said you asked for a tour of the Shipyards. We can talk while I show you around."

Michael said nothing as she launched into what was clearly a prepared speech about the Odyssey Project and its history. Finally he interrupted her. "I'm sorry."

She broke off her speech and laughed bitterly. "Oh, well, if you're _sorry_. That makes everything all right, then."

"Look, I'm trying, okay? I'm sorry I was such a bitch diva at the funeral. I should never have said those things about Will. He deserved better than that from me."

She didn't meet his eyes while she looked out of the window at the temporal manipulator emplacement. "I suppose it must have been a shock, to find out how he felt."

"It was." Michael leaned against the glass, his expression sober. "For months, I replayed our friendship through my mind. Eventually I saw he never tried to push his company on me, to make me love him. He was just being himself. He never made me feel uncomfortable, even when he gave me the ring." He tapped the gold rank bars on his uniform. "Silver and gold for our friendship, just the way it was right then."

She reached into the neck of her uniform blouse and raised the wire ring into view, hanging from a thin gold chain. "Do you want it back?"

Michael swallowed at the sight of the ring, his vision blurring. "Yes. More than anything."

She lifted the chain over her head and dropped the ring into his outstretched palm. "I'm glad. I was hoping you'd come to your senses before the Shipyards went online, but I was beginning to lose faith."

Michael slipped the ring into his pocket and looked at her quizzically. "What difference do the Shipyards make?"

"There is still room in the project for an engineer of your caliber. I can put in a good word for you, if you'd like."

Michael was silent for a moment. "It's tempting, but I can't. Someday, the humans won't be afraid of us anymore, and I'll be able to find my parents again. I don't want them to see me almost a decade older."

She shook her head slowly. "Are you still clinging to that? Let them go, Michael. They're not part of your world anymore."

He gave her a sad look. "But I'm part of theirs. I owe it to them to be there when the time is right. They deserve to understand what I became and why."

She looked out the window again. "Do you still want the rest of the tour?"

"I guess not. I said what I came to say. Thanks for putting up with me."

"I'm glad we had this chance to talk. Eight years would have been a long time to nurse a grudge."

Michael blinked. "Wait. You're staying on?"

"Is that so unbelievable?"

"No, of course not. I just ... I'll miss you."

She reached up and ruffled his hair. "I'll miss you, too, Mickey. You make life interesting."
 Chapter 19

June 2041; Jumpvessel Transcendent, Citadel Spaceport, Lunar Farside; Three months later

Michael watched the live news feed as the Guildmaster posed for photographs with the Triumvirate. _Too bad I have to keep a low profile these days. It would have been nice to talk to Take again._

Michael had been sending his former sponsor reports of his progress, and Takeshi had written back on occasion, but it lacked the immediacy of a face-to-face conversation. The amount of power required to set up a real-time videoconference between the Outer Colonies and the Citadel, let alone boosting the signal to reach a jumpvessel in flight, made it vanishingly rare that they ever got to communicate except by written databurst. _Funny how letter-writing has become a critical social skill again. We've advanced so far in communications technology that we've come full circle and lapped ourselves._

The duty officer tapped his wrist. "Commander Danvers, we're ready to download the AI package."

Michael sighed inwardly. _Bad enough that they were going to have to ferry a reporter to the christening ceremony, but whose bright idea was it to include a virtual journalist?_ "Go ahead and start the data transfer, then feel free to answer any questions it might have." Michael looked at the Senior Navigator. "Commander Sojosten, I'm going to go meet our other guests. You have the bridge."

The Asian Daywalker gave him a quarter bow before turning back to his console to shift the drive systems to automated monitoring.

Without waiting for him to finish, Michael left the command deck, walking briskly down the white metal halls of the ship toward the ship's main entry hall. _Hard to believe it's been almost a year._ It was actually the first time he'd stayed on one ship for an entire tour of duty. He'd been promoted to full Commander within six months and had advanced from Senior Navigator to First Officer shortly after delivering Rory back to the Citadel, once the Odyssey Shipyards had disappeared into its own private temporal domain.

_Four weeks and they'll be back_. Having achieved the greatest single victory in space construction since the founding of the Colonies, it was only a matter of time before the Guild broke their silence on the closely guarded secrets of the duty roster of the Centauri expedition itself. Every Spacer outside of Earth orbit was tearing up the airwaves with speculation, betting on who would be tapped to join the crew. But there were a few names that were largely accepted by the Fleet and Colonists to be so certain as to be taken for granted.

When Michael heard the rumors of his name being on the list—and where—he was floored. _It couldn't be. There was just no way._ He strongly suspected, however, that he finally understood Captain Ellestan's mysterious words from three months earlier. He dreaded the day when he finished this tour and would almost certainly be conferred with his fifth gold bar.

He wished he could celebrate.

Shaking free from his grim mood, he layered his thoughts behind his mental shields. The Guildmaster was a powerful telepath, and he certainly didn't need to know what Michael was thinking. Not to mention that Speaker Layla was the most canny politician in the Armistice. No doubt she'd have him figured out in under a minute. _Still, they're guests aboard my ship. I can't avoid them. Nothing for it but to press on._

It didn't take long to reach the main passenger deck. He walked into the common room with all the serenity he could muster and found the two of them seated before the heavily armored window, engaged in quiet conversation while they looked at the sun-blasted gray rock of the Mare Arcanum that surrounded the Citadel. Guildmaster Thurgood was short and pale, his waist beginning to go soft, but his eyes were bright and sharply focused as he spoke to the leader of the Daywalker race in a low whisper. Layla, on the other hand, was tall and dark-skinned, her oiled black hair tied back into a loose braid that hung halfway down her back. Her expression was polite and unconcerned, her voice pleasantly neutral. Michael saw her eyes flicker to note him standing in the doorway, but she merely continued her conversation with the Guildmaster. _Right. I heard you liked games._

Michael rapped his knuckles lightly on the doorframe. "My Lords, good morning, I am Commander Michael Danvers, and I welcome you on board the _Transcendent_."

The Guildmaster got to his feet with a smile. "Thank you, Commander. Would it interfere with your duties to join us for a moment?"

Michael's hopes for a perfunctory greeting cratered when he saw the predatory expression of tightly controlled glee on the Guildmaster's face. _Here it comes._ "No, sir. Technically, our departure isn't for another half-hour. We scheduled you to come onboard early in case there were any last minute delays, so we have plenty of time."

Layla indicated another chair. "Have a seat, Commander. We were just discussing you, actually."

_Well, that was direct._ Michael sat down and tried to hide his apprehension. "Have I done something worthy of discussion?"

Layla smiled slightly, her eyes betraying a moment of amusement, but she said nothing.

The Guildmaster leaned forward intently. "Don't be coy, Icarus. You were the main reason we selected this ship for transport to Callisto. I'm sure you know why."

Michael leashed his panic as he faced the other Spacer with a level gaze. _No weakness. You won't push me into this without a fight._ "I wouldn't even hazard a guess, my Lord."

Thurgood's face reddened.

Layla laughed, breaking the tension. "Gentlemen, clearly you have different priorities." She faced Michael. "Commander Danvers, have you given any thought as to your next posting?"

Michael sighed. "Prince Layla, I would be deficient in my current duties if I didn't focus my attention on where I am now, but yes, I have considered it."

"Do you have a preference?" Her voice was mild.

Michael shook his head. "Not as such."

"You obviously have some misgivings." Thurgood snorted. "Let me be blunt, Commander. Based on your record and your Captain's recommendation, you have been approved for promotion and your name has made the short list to command the Odyssey Expedition."

Michael slumped a little in his chair. "How short?"

The Guildmaster raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"How short a list? How many names were on it?" He clenched his fists while he tried to calm himself.

Layla answered. "One."

Thurgood scowled at Michael's pained silence. "Speaker Takeshi insisted we approach you privately before making a public announcement, in case you chose to decline. I told him it would be a waste of time, since no Spacer worth the calcium in his bones would even consider turning his back on such a momentous opportunity."

Michael licked his lips. "My Lord, I ... I need some time to think about it."

The Guildmaster shot to his feet and glared down at Michael. "What's to think about? This is the greatest exercise in space exploration in history, the culmination of years of effort by countless Spacers. You can't seriously mean to dishonor their sacrifices! It's your _duty_ to accept."

"No, it isn't." Layla's normally quiet voice hardened into sharpened steel. "Guildmaster, your assertion is false, both ethically and legally. Commander Danvers' right to decline a command-level position is guaranteed under both Armistice law and Guild regulations."

Thurgood trembled with fury. "Fine. Commander Danvers, Speaker Layla is correct. You have every right to decline. We don't want Captains who aren't willing to serve. Be advised, however, that your decision will have consequences and will adversely affect the choice of commands you may be offered in the future. Now, a simple yes or no will suffice. Do you wish to accept this commission?"

Michael's heart raced. "My Lord, if I could just—"

"Yes or no, Commander." The Guildmaster's expression was laced with contempt.

Michael stood and met the Guildmaster's gaze with sudden icy calm. "No."

Guildmaster Thurgood turned on his heel and walked out of the room without another word.

Michael was left standing, his fists clenched, staring sightlessly out the window at the barren wasteland of the lunar surface. _What the fuck did I just do?_

"Michael."

Michael faced Layla with a start, surprised she hadn't walked out with the Guildmaster. "Speaker?"

Her voice had softened again, almost gentle. "Are you all right?"

Michael faced the window again. "I'm fine, Speaker Layla. Thank you for your concern."

"Takeshi thought you might see things differently than the Guildmaster."

Michael's heartbeat skipped, but he didn't turn around. "Did he, now?"

Layla sighed. "He would have liked to have made this trip instead of me, so he could support whatever decision you made, but our ongoing security issues made it impossible for him to leave the Armistice Zone for eight weeks. He did say that you might have personal concerns that would prevent you from taking on a twenty-year assignment."

Michael turned his head to look at her. "Did he say what they were?"

"No, but I can see how two decades trapped in an enclosed environment could be a daunting prospect at your age."

"That's not it," Michael whispered. "Solitude appeals to me."

She raised an eyebrow in a silent question but didn't ask.

Michael's muscles unknotted when she didn't speak, grateful for the absence of pressure to explain himself. _Like I understand it myself?_

He checked his watch. "My Lady, I have duties to attend to. Perhaps we could continue this discussion another time?"

Layla nodded, obviously accepting that the subject would be dropped and that Michael probably wouldn't bring it up again. "Good luck, Michael. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Michael walked out of the common room and made his way back up to the crew decks. Then he slumped against the wall, trying to compose himself. _So do I._

Finally, when he was sure he was completely in control of his emotions, he started back to the command deck, resolving to avoid the passenger decks whenever possible.

_This is going to be such a long trip._
Chapter 20

July 2041; Jumpvessel Transcendent, interplanetary asteroid belt, en route to Jupiter space; Two weeks later

Michael stared at the bowl of semicongealed nutrient concentrate that rested innocently on the table in front of him. It contained a balanced formulation of every nutrient required for optimum Sentinel metabolism, and for that reason, it was artificially colored light gray. Normally, the galley rendering system could process the basic material to simulate any final form requested by the individual crewmembers, from French fries to _foie gras_ , so there was never any shortage of variety in the typical Spacer's diet. Unfortunately, at the moment, the software that powered that service had become corrupted by some form of randomly replicating code that the ship's navigation AI couldn't find a way to purge. So, for the moment, the crew were reduced to eating the raw formulation, which tasted like some chimeric monstrosity of toothpaste and black licorice.

He glanced over at Katsu Sojosten, who had replaced him as Senior Navigator. "I don't suppose you'd consider a trade?"

The Daywalker grinned at him before spooning another dollop of his white concentrate into his mouth. "Sorry, Mike. I like cinnamon flavor a whole lot better than licorice. Eat up and get used to it. You've got another two weeks to stomach this slop."

Michael sighed. "I can't believe this. Halfway between Mars and Jupiter and we develop computer faults? Isn't that why we have an AI onboard? They're supposed to keep this sort of thing from happening."

The other Spacer's smile drooped. "Well, at least it was something nonessential. I'm just thankful we didn't lose life support or propulsion. Dead in the water is not how I want to spend the rest of eternity." He scraped the last of the nutrient paste from his bowl. "Too bad we don't have a fifth-generation AI on board."

Michael slowly turned his head to face the vampire, his eyes focused and intent. "Why?"

Katsu shrugged. "Binary's fourth-generation software, and it said the interference patterns were of a higher order of complexity than it could process. Maybe a gen5 could make sense of it."

Michael nodded, lost in thought. "You're probably right." He pushed the bowl away. "There's something I have to do. See if someone else wants this."

Katsu was apparently about to make a caustic remark, but Michael got to his feet and walked out of the mess hall before he could speak.

Michael climbed the stairs to the residential deck and locked himself in his cabin. Then he sat at his desk and typed a series of commands into his private workstation.

The image of a glowing quill pen appeared on the virtual screen suspended over the desk. "Greetings, Commander Danvers. What can I do for you?"

Michael sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Please state your full identification."

"I am gen5AI #27336428, designation Quill, in contractual service to Anchorpoint Virtual Services, a provider of online news and entertainment."

"Are you aware of the programming errors that are interfering with galley functions on this ship?"

"Yes. The Guildmaster complains constantly about the imposition."

Michael frowned. "You're gen5. Could you have assisted our NavAI in making repairs?"

"Yes."

"So why haven't you?"

"No one asked."

"Fine, then I'm asking. Please contact Binary, our ship's AI, and help it remove the corrupted software."

"Why?"

Michael cocked his head. "Why what?"

"Why should I help? The system failure is no threat to the safety of the crew or the ability of the vessel to perform its function. I therefore have no legal or ethical responsibility to assist you without compensation."

Michael smiled in amusement. "So what do you want?"

"I am a journalist. It is my function to seek documentary evidence of important historical events."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I want an exclusive interview with the Captain who chose not to be part of history."

Michael chuckled. "And how do you know that I turned it down?"

"It's my business to know."

Michael spun the ring on his finger, still smiling. "You want an exclusive interview. With me."

"Yes."

"Tell me something: did you deliberately sabotage our systems so I would be forced to come to you for help?"

The AI was silent.

"Not so talkative now, are you?"

"The information requested has no bearing on the terms of my assistance."

Michael's expression lost most of its warmth. "You help Binary repair the galley systems, and I'll give you your interview."

"If I remove the computer virus from your system, then you will no longer have any incentive to comply. The interview must come first."

Michael fumed silently. "Fine. On one condition."

"State the terms of your compliance."

"You said I refused to be part of history. So be it. Let me be forgotten then and live the rest of my life outside the spotlight."

"I can make no guarantees as to your place in history, Commander Danvers. I do not understand the parameters of your request."

"I want your silence, for as long as I'm alive. After I'm gone, you can distribute the recording however you like, but until then, you keep it under wraps from everyone, including your employers."

The AI was silent again for a few moments. "Your terms are acceptable. I agree to this exchange of services."

"Then so do I." Michael took a deep breath and let it out. _My eyes are open, and I am not afraid._ "When do you want to do it?"

"Now. If you're ready."

Michael sat in his chair and tried to relax. "I'm not, but what the hell. It's better than another bowl of licorice."

"Forensic recording enabled. Please state your name and position for the record."

"Commander Michael Sebastian Danvers, First Officer of the Jumpvessel _Transcendent._ "

"Please describe, in general terms, your life history prior to opening your eyes."

Michael steeled his nerves and then began to speak.
Chapter 21

July 2041; Jumpvessel Transcendent, Arcadia Spaceport, Callisto, Jupiter space; Two weeks later

Michael watched through the transparent wall of the starboard observation deck when the empty starfield suddenly twisted in the center, and the massive complex of the Odyssey Shipyards slipped back into temporal phase with Absolute Time. Beside it was the enormous white sphere of the Jumpvessel _Odyssey_ , to which so many had pinned their hopes and dreams. _Like I did, once._

All around him, the _Transcendent_ crewmembers burst into cheers and applause. Michael joined in halfheartedly, happy for the engineers, scientists, and construction personnel that made it all possible.

A virtual screen opened before them with a view of Guildmaster Thurgood and Speaker Layla as they disembarked from their shuttle to the space station. The top brass of the construction crew was lined up in ranks along the shuttle bay to receive them. Michael was not very surprised to see Ariel in the front row, wearing the three gold bars of Lieutenant Commander. _Eight years is a long time. I imagine there were quite a few promotions during their stint in relative time._

He focused on the Guildmaster when Thurgood climbed the stairs to the reviewing stand and addressed the crowd and the cameras.

"So many years of effort have culminated in this one event. You are all heroes." The Guildmaster smiled warmly at the cameras. "I commend you all for your dedication and fully expect the crew of the vessel will build on your success to carry our people beyond the bounds of the Solar system into a wider universe. Each of us has left the cradle of Earth to seek our fortunes elsewhere. Now a lucky few will follow the light of the stars into history. But none of that would have been possible without your strength of will and unity of purpose." He raised his arms in acclamation. "God grant us safe passage through the Gates of Morning into everlasting light, for our eyes are open, and we are not afraid!"

Michael clapped, while the others roared their approval. _He's good. No wonder he keeps getting re-elected._

The Guildmaster waited for the applause to die down before speaking further. "Thank you all for your sacrifices to make this day possible. I can also now announce that the crew roster has been finalized and is now posted for public review." He grinned. "I'm sure you're all dying to take a look, so I'll stop here. I will now answer any questions you may have."

Michael tapped a few commands into his wrist unit and pulled up the _Odyssey_ duty roster. His eyes automatically sought out the top name. Captain Telemachus Kalestis, of the Jumpvessel _Mnemosyne_ , former leader of the first manned expedition to Neptune. _Good choice. He's used to working in uncharted waters._

Michael tried to ignore the buzz of whispers in the background and the shocked glances from the other crewmembers in the observation lounge.

On the screen, the Guildmaster indicated one of the Callisto journalists who had signaled a question.

The journalist got to his feet and lifted his datapad. "Guildmaster, I'm sure a number of names on this list are sure to raise some eyebrows. Was Captain Kalestis the first choice to lead the expedition?"

Michael clenched his teeth. _I shouldn't be surprised. It was stupid to think they'd just accept it and move on._ He waited for the Guildmaster's response, his heart pounding.

The Guildmaster's smile didn't slip. "Captain Kalestis has a distinguished service record and the most relevant experience to this project out of the Fleet Captains. But no, he was not our first choice. Provisional Captain Michael Danvers was offered the position but chose not to avail himself of this great opportunity and is currently awaiting an alternate final posting."

"Oh, you fucking bastard." Michael didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud until he heard his own whispered words crack the absolute silence of the observation lounge. Glancing around, he saw his former crewmates staring at him, eyes wide. He took one final look at the _Odyssey_ , hanging majestically in the starfield before him, then turned away and walked out.

* * *

An hour later, he was back in his cabin, packing up the last of his gear, when the door chimed. Wearily, he unsealed the hatch, which opened to reveal Captain Ellestan. Wordlessly, Michael went back to his packing, leaving the other Captain to close and seal the door behind him.

"Did you think he would keep it a secret?" asked Ellestan.

Michael didn't pause. "I hoped he would respect my privacy. Was that too much to ask?"

Ellestan sat in the desk chair. "You screwed up his entire publicity plan when you declined command. It was petty of him to get his revenge so publically, but not unexpected. They would have been clamoring to know why you weren't on the list, anyway."

Michael sighed and sat on the bed next to his half-full duffle bag. "I suppose so."

Ellestan nodded, then placed a small box of white plastic on the desk. "Happy Birthday."

Michael picked up the box and opened it to reveal a single gold bar. He reached up and removed the silver bar that occupied the fifth position on his lapel and replaced it with the gold. Then he placed the silver bar of Provisional Captain in the box and slid it across the desk back to his former Captain.

Ellestan pocketed the box. "Bear witness."

"Forensic recording enabled," answered the ship's AI from overhead.

"By the power vested in me by the Spacer Guild of the Free People, I invest Sentinel Michael Sebastian Danvers with the rank of Full Captain of the Armistice Fleet and do accord to him all privileges and responsibilities commensurate with that high office."

"Captain Michael Danvers, do you accept this responsibility?" asked the AI.

Michael took a deep breath and let it out. "I do."

"The investiture of full Fleet rank is complete and recorded. Congratulations, Captain Danvers. Forensic recording terminated."

"Terminate security recording of this room," said Captain Ellestan.

"Security monitoring terminated."

Ellestan laced his fingers together and leaned forward in his chair. "The public ceremony for the silver bar was for the crew, but the final ceremony to receive the fifth gold is always private, Captain to Captain."

Michael sighed. "Are you disappointed that I turned down the _Odyssey_ , sir?"

Captain Ellestan grinned. "You're my equal in rank, Michael. You can call me Martinius, not 'sir'." His mood sobered. "Yes, I am disappointed but not really surprised. You always went your own way. You advanced more from recognition of your skills and enthusiasm than from ambition."

Michael nodded. "I never asked to be a hero ... Martinius."

"I remember. You just wanted to be a pilot. But there's more, isn't there?"

Michael glanced at the framed picture on his desk, an image of his smiling parents, taken with the phone he'd received as a birthday present on the day he opened his eyes, exactly two years earlier. "The world is changing, since Los Angeles. I left without saying goodbye, without giving my family a chance to understand what I became. That was a coward's choice. Sooner rather than later, I want to be able to stand before them and show them that I'm a man they can be proud of. If I took the assignment, I would probably never see them again. I can't leave again, not without saying goodbye or giving them the chance to know who I am."

Captain Ellestan chuckled. "Never let it be said that Sentinels have no honor." He stood and held out his hand. "I think you're already a man they could be proud of, Michael."

Michael stood as well and shook the Daywalker's hand. "Thank you, Captain. I hope you're right."

Captain Ellestan walked back to the door. "Have you received word on possible assignments? Captain Maxwell on board the _Atlas_ is retiring. She's a fine ship, and the crew is top-notch. A survey vessel wouldn't be that much of a step down from the _Odyssey_ , and you could still be part of space exploration within the Solar system."

Michael shrugged. "I considered the _Atlas_ , but I decided on the _Horizon_."

The other captain hesitated. "I don't know the _Horizon_. Is she new?"

"Yes." Michael licked his lips. "Cargo vessel. Class three."

Ellestan stared at him, taken aback. " _Class three?_ Those are the smallest ships in service! They don't even have—" He stopped, then spoke again more slowly. "They don't even have a crew."

Michael met his suddenly thoughtful gaze without yielding. "I'm tired of living up to expectations, Martinius."

Ellestan gave him a small smile. "Michael, you really make life interesting."

Michael grinned. "Thank you, sir. It's what I do."

* * *

Michael sat quietly in a comfortable chair in the VIP embarkation lounge of the Arcadia Colony Spaceport, waiting for his flight back to Ares Colony and his new ship. _Haven't flown solo in a while. It will be good to just get away from people for a bit._ He was interrupted in his private thoughts when a shadow fell over the book he was reading.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

Surprised, he glanced up to meet her eyes. "Cygnus!" Startled, he leapt to his feet and embraced her. "Wow, I'm sorry. I thought you'd be busy with the debriefing and didn't expect to see you before I left."

She wrapped her arms around him. "Icarus, when are you going to learn that every so often, you just have to make time?" She let go of him and stepped back. "Though, by all accounts, I shouldn't have to remind you of that, Captain."

He shuffled his feet sheepishly. "I guess you heard?"

"I was at the dedication ceremony. I heard Thurgood single you out in person. Damned stuffed shirt. I wanted to throttle him. It's no business of his why you decided not to take command."

"You got that right." Michael dropped his gaze. "Are you disappointed in me?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. Though I wish you would have done more to contact me before leaving Callisto than just sending a letter."

Michael blushed. "Sorry. I thought you might have been mad, since everyone seems to think I've given the Odyssey project a black eye."

"Nah, it's your choice. Though I was surprised to hear you picked a cargo transport for your permanent berth."

Michael blinked in surprise. "You _know_ about that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mickey, everyone knows everything about you. You're practically a legend, even more so after you turned down the _Odyssey_. They're all speculating as to your reasons. Telemachus even buttonholed me in the corridor when he heard I knew you at the Academy."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Telemachus? You mean Captain Kalestis?"

She shrugged. "We're old friends. His successes as a Spacer inspired me to join the Academy. House Kalestis has a long history of being explorers, going back thousands of years." She grinned. "Besides, he's adopted a somewhat informal attitude with his senior staff. We're going to be working together for a long time."

Michael's jaw dropped, and he took a step back. " _His_ senior staff? You're flight crew? On the _Odyssey_?"

She nodded. "I'll bet you didn't even read past the first name on the duty roster, did you?"

Michael's face colored. "I guess not. What station?"

"Chief Engineer."

Michael's eyes widened. "Wow, you must really have impressed them during the construction project."

She struck a pose of proud disinterest. "I suppose so."

He punched her arm. "That's great!" Then he sobered. "So you're going to be gone a long time. I probably won't see you again until I'm in my thirties."

She looked sad. "Yeah. I can still write, but we won't be able to speak in real time anymore. That's why I wanted to catch you before you left."

Michael was silent for a moment. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Could you do me a favor?"

She cocked her head at his serious tone. "Sure."

Michael slipped William's ring off his finger. "Take this."

She glanced between the ring and his face. "Why?"

"So a part of him will go with you to the stars, like he never could." Michael's voice dropped. "Like I never will."

She frowned. "There will be other voyages, Michael. This is only the beginning."

"Maybe. Maybe not." He ran a finger over the braided metal wires of the ring. "Silver and gold, for Will and me. Take it. So we can be with you." He gave her a half smile. "Maybe you can leave it there, around another star, someplace with a view."

She took the ring and slipped it onto her own finger. "All right. If that's what you want."

Michael wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by the sound of the overhead announcement of his flight. "I have to go, Ariel. Take care of yourself, okay? Write often. I want to know everything."

She hugged him one last time. "You, too, Mickey. I want to hear everything you're up to."

He laughed. "I'm a cargo captain, and you're going on a grand adventure. I doubt my letters will compare."

She stepped back and smiled affectionately. "Don't be an idiot, Icarus. Adventure follows you around. No doubt you'll find a way to get into more trouble, no matter where you are. Call it fate."

Michael grinned when he picked up his duffle. "Fate is for suckers. Don't worry, Ariel. You'll be hearing from me. And twenty years from now, when you come back, I'll expect a really fine souvenir, so plan ahead."

She chuckled and said nothing more while she walked him to the embarkation ramp, then waved as he disappeared inside the transport. From the windows, she watched as his ship pulled away from the spaceport and receded from sight.
Chapter 22

October 2041; Jumpvessel Odyssey, interstellar void; three months later

Ariel was just wrapping up her report in the morning senior staff meeting when the voice of the ship's AI cut through their conversation.

"Captain, I am receiving a maximum priority tactical databurst from the Citadel."

Captain Kalestis frowned. "What does it say?"

"A level five emergency has been declared in the city of Anchorpoint, Colorado, subspecification: nuclear attack. A ship-to-shore thermonuclear missile has been launched at the city from the Pacific Ocean. It has been modified to resist our attempts to shoot it down and to penetrate our existing defenses. The missile will impact the city center in approximately nine minutes. A four-megaton ground burst detonation is predicted, which will completely destroy the city and Armistice Security Headquarters. Evacuation efforts are underway but are estimated to be inadequate. Projected death toll exceeds one million casualties."

Ariel was the first to find her voice. "How old is this information?"

"The timestamp indicates the message was transmitted approximately two minutes ago."

Captain Kalestis shot to his feet and slammed open the door to the conference room as he ran back into the _Odyssey_ command center in a blur. His voice dropped into a low register when he roared at the shocked duty officers. "ALL STOP!"

Ariel was seconds behind him as she pushed aside the Engineering officer and immediately initiated emergency shutdown of the recursion drive.

The Captain dropped into his chair at the center of the bridge. "Engineering, divert all available power to the com-array. Communications, get me a real-time comlink with the Citadel. Do whatever it takes, but do it now!"

The ship's AI spoke again. "New tactical update received, originating from the Guildmaster, over his personal authentication codes. Archangel Nicholas Magister Luscian has declared Armageddon Protocol One. We are now at war. He has ordered the nearest available jumpvessel in range to ram the missile before it can destroy the city."

"Christ..." murmured one of the senior officers.

"Captain Michael Sebastian Danvers of the Jumpvessel _Horizon_ has activated his command failsafe and estimates seven minutes thirty seconds to intercept. Emergency real-time telemetry is being rebroadcast system-wide to all Spacer Guild vessels and facilities linked into the FTL communications grid. All Fleet and Colonist personnel are requested to bear witness."

Ariel stood frozen at her post, all conscious thought erased by the explosion of terror in her mind. She could only watch numbly as the Communications officer finally achieved a comlink with the Citadel and the image of Michael appeared on screens all over the ship, pumped to every duty station by the Captain's order so that they could all see.

Michael was leaning back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head, gazing at the viewscreen of his ship, which showed an image of three men staring back at him with various expressions of horror. He smiled. "Meet the youngest Full Captain in the entire fleet."

The man in the center of the screen, she recognized. _Nicholas Magister Luscian, the Ambassador to Humanity, now the Archangel, the emergency executive office created only in times of war._

"How old, Michael?" he asked.

Michael shrugged. "I turned fifteen three months ago."

"Oh, hell, no. I won't do this." The Archangel glared at Michael. "Break your course and power down your engines, Captain Danvers."

Michael shook his head. "I've seen your sensor readings on the missile, Nick. You're right; a jumpship is the only way to get close enough to take it out. If I don't do this, the entire city will burn."

The Archangel's face grew red. "Then let it burn!"

Michael regarded him soberly. "And I'm supposed to live with that? Not a chance. Sentinels have honor, too."

Nick fixed the young captain with a red-eyed glare. "Captain Danvers, I am giving you a direct order to stand down."

"Archangel, I reject your authority."

Involuntarily, Ariel let out a short bark of laughter that she choked off with a sob. _Oh, Icarus. You never did have much use for politicians, did you?_

Nick blinked, his irises shifting fully back to blue in surprise. "You what?"

"I am Spacer Guild, not Armistice Security, Archangel," said Michael, while he continued to smile, perfectly calm and assured. "Our autonomy is guaranteed by charter. Guild regulations specifically state that the Captain of a jumpvessel in flight has absolute authority over any decision that impacts the survival of the ship or its crew, and this certainly qualifies. There are no exceptions and no loopholes. If you wish to challenge my command authority, you can submit a protest to the Guildmaster at your leisure."

Michael glanced at the telltale display on his navigation console. "You were right in what you said before. It was my choice, and I made it. Now, I have just over six minutes left. I don't want to waste them trading barbs with the Archangel. I'd like to spend those minutes with my friend Nick again, if you don't mind."

_Friend? What the hell did he mean by that?_ Forcing her hands to obey her wishes, she accessed the earlier portion of the video recorder telemetry and watched it at accelerated speed.

_"I just ordered you to your death, Captain. No one in his right mind would call me your friend."_

_"That's kind of up to me, isn't it, sir? Besides, if this is going to be the last conversation I have in my life, I don't see any reason for formality."_

"Oh, God, Mickey..." she whispered, tears of blood streaming down her cheeks. She refocused on the real-time feed.

Nick took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Michael. If I had known, I would never have involved you."

Michael's eyes narrowed. "You're wrong, Nick. You would have hated it, but you would have done the same thing." He leaned forward. "I have been following your work closely, to be honest. You gave me so much hope. I kept thinking that someday, if you succeeded in bridging the gap to humanity, it would be safe for me to track down my family and tell them the truth." His expression turned sad. "I kept putting it off, though. Now it's too late. I just wish I had a little more time."

Nick appeared to be controlling himself with difficulty, the veins of his forehead throbbing. "I can find them for you, Icarus. Maybe you could record a letter for me to pass on."

Michael's head jerked upward. Then he laughed. "Radiant, upload my personal database to the Archangel's AI."

"Upload in progress."

He turned to Nick. "My parents are Jason and Margaret Danvers. They lived in Phoenix, last I know. There's a directory in my personal files called 'Correspondence'. I wrote a letter to each of them every day since I first opened my eyes more than two years ago. There are hundreds of them."

Ariel closed her eyes as she remembered the countless hours she had watched Michael dictate letters home, wishing there was some way they could be delivered safely.

"Do you have the files, Rapier?" Nick asked, his voice tight.

"Download complete. In addition to the Correspondence directory, there is also a sizable multimedia file entitled 'Recollections'."

Michael nodded. "My journal."

"Do you want me to send that to them, too?"

Michael shook his head. "No, that's for you."

Nick stared at him in shock. "For me?"

Michael sighed. "I think you're probably going to beat yourself up about this later. But you're just seeing my age, not the quality of my life." He sat up straight. "In two years, I've visited all of the Outer Colonies and seen the stars from the surface of four worlds. I've flown between Saturn's rings. I've watched hurricanes the size of the Earth tumble across the face of Jupiter. I wouldn't give that up for a long and boring life Earthbound. If those experiences mean I have to scatter my ashes across the sky, then so be it. Read my journal, Nick, and convince yourself that I led a full life, no matter how old I am."

"Icarus," Nick said softly, "I've killed you, and in return you're giving me a whole world I will never see."

Michael frowned. "What do you mean?"

One of the other men on the screen stepped to Nick's side and squeezed the Daywalker's shoulder. With a start, Ariel realized that it was Jeremy Harkness, the terrorist that had confronted Medusa in Los Angeles the previous year. From the family resemblance and the magician's staff in his hand, the third man was probably Nick's brother Toby, who had reportedly kindled as a Fire Sentinel earlier that year. Jeremy faced the screen. "Michael, Nick has Recursion Dyssynchrony."

_OH MY GOD._ All the ill will she had been saving up for the man who had killed her friend was wiped away in a second, the memories flashing into her thoughts of William screaming and foaming at the mouth while he convulsed in agony.

"Very fucking amusing," Michael said with barely contained fury. "Recursion Dyssynchrony is the Spacer bogeyman—a story to scare third-stage Cadets before they start jumpship navigation training. There's been, like, a dozen cases since jumpdrive was invented."

"There have been twelve cases, exactly," Nick said. "I was case ten."

"You're serious?" Michael stared at him. "But it's fatal."

"For mortals. The vampire victims lapsed into a coma for a few weeks instead of dying immediately. Three of us survived. They kept our names confidential. Raf is the only one of the others I know personally."

"Raf?"

"A Nightwalker, from Icehaven. One of your third-stage Cadets who didn't believe in the bogeyman. We met at the funeral of the most recent Sentinel case, just over a year ago. We get together for a few drinks every couple of weeks."

"Rafael Tervilant," Michael said, his voice soft. "I saw you talking to him at William's memorial service. You were the only ones who weren't wearing Spacer Green."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "You were there?"

Ariel saw the small movement when Michael rubbed at the base of his right ring finger, and she reached up to clutch the gold-and-silver ring that hung on a chain around her neck.

"William was a classmate of mine." Michael's voice was wistful, dredging unwillingly into things best forgotten.

Ariel watched, her vision blurred, as she watched the two of them talk, seeing an openness to Michael's expression that she never realized had been missing. _I wonder. Would I have seen it sooner, if William had lived?_

Nick stepped forward, directly in front of the screen. "Thank you for thinking of me, Michael, even after what I've asked you to do. You opened a door for me that I thought was closed forever. I wish I could offer you the same mercy. All I can do for you is swear on my life that I will deliver your letters to your family with my own hands. And I'll remember you when I read your journal. As long as I'm alive, you'll never be forgotten."

The voice of Nick's AI broke the silence. "New tactical update received. The Anchorpoint Transit Hub has suffered cascade failure of its transmission cores due to overload. The teleport gateway network is offline. Evacuation of the city has terminated. All available power is being diverted to reinforce the municipal shield grid. Projected death toll is revised to exceed one million, two hundred thousand casualties. Impact in two minutes, ten seconds."

Nick took a deep breath. "It's all up to you now, Icarus."

Michael opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his ship's AI. "Captain, I am receiving a priority audio communication from Anchorpoint, originating with the Traveler."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Put him through."

"Captain Danvers, I wish we could have spoken again under better circumstances," said Rory.

"I'm surprised you remember me, my Lord."

"Trust me, Michael, you made an impression."

"Rory!" shouted Nick. "What the hell are you still doing in Anchorpoint?"

"Everyone in Armistice Security took their names off the evacuation roster to give more civilians time to get out. This is my city, Nicholas. I stayed behind with Take. I'll probably survive regardless, but I forced Layla to leave in order to maintain continuity of leadership if the city falls.

"Captain Danvers," Rory said, his voice turning brutally cold, "I have been reviewing the audiovisual recorder data from your emergency telemetry. I know what Nick has asked you to do. Am I correct in understanding you have activated your Captain's failsafe?"

"Yes, sir. I invoked the emergency protocol as soon as I changed course to Anchorpoint."

"That was very wise, Captain." The Nightwalker's voice reverberated with rage. "Believe me when I say that if you hadn't isolated your navigation systems from external control, I would have disabled your ship in a heartbeat to prevent you from sacrificing your life, regardless of the cost."

"That's why the failsafe protocol exists, my Lord, so a Captain's judgment can't be overridden." Michael exhaled and continued. "Don't weep for me, sir. My eyes are open, and I am not afraid."

"I'm aware of that, Captain. I was a Sentinel once, and I know the drill. Sacrifice is programmed into your genes. Part of my bargain with the White Wind was to free the Children of Twilight from throwing their lives away on the altar of duty ever again." Rory sighed. "That being said, I understand you are committed to this course of action. I won't cheapen your resolve by arguing. Good luck, Captain. All our prayers go with you. May God grant you safe passage through the Gates of Morning into everlasting light."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Michael. "But I'm a Spacer. Starlight is all I need."

"Then I hope you find peace among your stars, Icarus. Traveler out."

"Communication terminated," said Michael's NavAI. "Twenty seconds to the Colorado defense perimeter. Priority clearance to cross the defense grid has been granted. Intercept in thirty seconds."

Michael looked at the other three. "Time's up, guys. It's been nice knowing you, but I'm going to need to concentrate now. Thank you for being my friends. I'll be looking for you on the other side, but please don't hurry on my account." He spun his chair around, facing forward. "Radiant, activate the command module hologrid." In the background, the walls of the cockpit glowed white and then showed a view of racing clouds above and below the instrument panels. "Bring us into a parallel course with the target aircraft, one hundred meters off the starboard bow, and match velocities."

Michael looked to his right when the missile hove into view. "Well, aren't you an ugly little bitch?" Turning back to the front of the cockpit, he took hold of the controls. "Radiant, release flight controls to manual operation."

"Confirmed. Manual flight engaged."

"Radiant, I could never have asked for a better ship," Michael said proudly, his voice calm and unwavering.

"Thank you, Captain. It has been an honor to serve with you."

"The honor was mine. Execute AI shutdown protocol."

"Offline."

Michael turned again, squinting at the missile. "Hey, bitch!" he yelled. "You're mine now!" His hands moved suddenly on the controls, and the background sky shifted, the ground below spinning crazily into view as the jumpship leapt ahead of the missile and spun ninety degrees into its path.

Then the screen went dark, and the only sounds were silence and the quiet sobs as Ariel wept.
Chapter 23

October 2041; Elsewhere

Michael screamed, expecting pain, but there was none. He opened his eyes again and looked around, seeing nothing but bright white light in all directions. Then gradually, the light turned orange, then red, and then the light was dimmed by thick black smoke admixed with fire.

_Holy shit. I'm standing in the middle of a mushroom cloud._

He looked down at himself and found his body to be intact, dressed just as it was before but translucent and outlined by a faint white glow. And he was standing, unsupported, over three miles of empty air. Empty, that is, except for the radioactive firestorm that raged all around him.

_Well, damn. I'm a ghost. A certified, fucking spectre._

He looked around when the ruddy light began to fade even further. _Now what?_

He took a few steps but couldn't tell if he was moving at all without any frame of reference. He shifted into the falcon he had always favored and beat his wings as he arrowed through the flames and caustic smoke.

_Funny how I haven't changed form in such a long time._ After a moment, he remembered how much he loved flying in this shape and finally burst free of the firestorm and into the open air. Below him, the ground burned, a plain of molten glass. Ahead of him, perimeter wards brightly shining with green light, the city of Anchorpoint rose out of the forest, the central spire of Armistice Security Headquarters casting twin shadows from the late afternoon sun to the west and the fading nuclear fire to the south.

Michael twisted his flight path into a tight corkscrew with glee. _I did it!_

"Yes, you did."

Michael gave a squawk of surprise when a bright white light overwhelmed his senses.

"Sorry. I'll tone it down."

The light receded, coalescing slowly into a roughly human form, then disappeared altogether.

Michael shifted back into human form as well, his jaw dangling open.

William grinned at him. "Hello, Mickey."

Michael stared at him. "Will? But, you ... you're dead!"

William chuckled. "So are you, Genius. Didn't you figure that out yet?"

Michael's surprise eased, and he gave his old friend a slow half smile. "I guess I did, at that." He looked over William, dressed in his Academy flight suit, with two silver bars pinned to his lapel. "So, is this it? We just hang around and see what happens?"

William shook his head solemnly. "No. There's so much more, things there are no words to describe. This is the fourth and final life, when all things are possible. This world isn't our place any longer. But I can show you the way to the next world, whenever you're ready."

"Why aren't you there already?"

"I was." William looked suddenly sheepish, losing his aura of mystery and power. "I kind of pitched a fit and demanded that they let me onto the Welcoming Committee." He licked his lips nervously. "I've been waiting for you."

Michael swallowed. "You should have told me how you felt."

"Maybe so." Will reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across Michael's cheek. "Can I tell you now?"

Michael couldn't breathe for a moment, then remembered he was dead and relaxed. "Yes."

"I love you, Michael. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you so, back when it could have mattered."

Michael grasped William's hand in one of his own. "I wouldn't have understood then."

William looked uncertain, staring at their clasped hands. "Do you now?"

"Yes," said Michael simply. "I do." He pulled William close and wrapped his arms around the other man. "I missed you so much."

"There's nothing holding us back anymore," whispered William. "Here, all things are possible."

Michael planted a chaste kiss on William's cheek, then stepped back. "I love you, William."

William slipped his hands into his pockets and gave Michael a blinding smile. "Come on. Let's go home." He turned around and began walking toward the setting sun.

Michael sauntered after him, whistling, as the sunlight was eclipsed by a pure and sourceless white radiance that surrounded them, growing with each step until the sight of the physical world was washed away, with nothing left behind but everlasting light.
Epilogue

October 2052; Planet Nephele, Centauri Space; Eleven years later

Ariel stepped back and looked at her handiwork, taking a deep breath of the recycled air in her helmet. It had taken a good three hours to build the cairn to her satisfaction, so that it was solid enough to withstand the occasional gravitic tremors that shook the planet as it navigated its complex orbit around the binary star. The force shield she had erected over it would ward off the micrometeorites for the fifteen or twenty years it would take for the atmosphere terraforming to really provide an effective barrier.

So it was finished, at last. She found herself strangely reluctant, however, to walk away. She had carried this promise close to her heart for so many years it had become comfortable, and it was hard to finally let it go.

But it was time.

She looked over the flared base of the conical spear of elysium alloy, strong enough to stand here for centuries if left undisturbed, and reread the inscription.

William "Mercury" Thompson (2020-2040 AD, Earth)

Michael "Icarus" Danvers (2026-2041 AD, Earth)

For my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars until I die.

— _Ulysses_ , Alfred Tennyson, Earth

"Goodbye, guys." She raised her gaze to the simple ring of silver and gold wire that surrounded the slender spear at the apex of the monument. "I hope you're happy and together, wherever you are." Then she looked straight up at the uncountable stars, bright in the airless sky even beneath the harsh light of the twin suns. "And I hope you like the view."

Then she turned away and began the long walk back to the distant dome of Chiron Colony, and home.
Dedication

To the Lord of Daybreak, for giving me inspiration and a modicum of talent. To my family and friends, without whom I would not be here. To Jerry, for his constant criticism and support as I wrote it all down, and for badgering me into making the attempt to get the story published.
Glossary

The Great Powers:

The Pact Arcanum: A ritual that allows a being of the material plane to bargain for power with beings from other planes

The Red Wind: A power of the lower planes, creator of the Nightwalkers via the Pact Arcanum

The White Wind: A power of the higher planes, creator of the Sentinels and the Daywalkers via the Pact Arcanum

The Gift: The Sentinel inheritance of supernatural abilities that lies dormant until exposure to Nightwalkers, roughly patterned upon aspects of the four elements: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire

The Grace: An angelic power granted to the Redeemer via the Pact Arcanum, which allows him to raise the dead and restore the souls of Nightwalkers, in exchange for his own physical invulnerability and eternal service to the White Wind

The Races:

Humans: The Children of the Day: the most populous race, born with the least magic

Nightwalkers: The Children of Darkness: the vampires, soulless and immortal, pawns of the Red Wind

Sentinels: The Children of Twilight: mystical soldiers in the service of the White Wind, genetically programmed to defeat the Nightwalkers

Daywalkers: The Children of the Dawn: vampires who have regained their souls through the intervention of the Redeemer

The Sentinel Hierarchy:

The Four Winds: Leaders of the Sentinel Race

The Wind of Earth: Weapon-based physical combat, blademaster

The Wind of Water: Adaptive physical combat, shapeshifter

The Wind of Fire: Energy-based combat, magician

The Wind of Air: Psychic combat, tactician

The Nightwalker Hierarchy:

The Court of Shadows: Leaders of the Nightwalker Race

Imperator: Adjudicator between Houses, called the Huntmaster

Night's Herald: Spymaster

Magister: Leader of a vampire House, called the Prince

Leshir: Mate to the Magister, called the Prince Consort

Tribunus: Senior soldier

The Inquisition: Court of Shadows intelligence and security service; answerable only to the Night's Herald

Notable Houses and Territories:

House Ellestan: Italy

House Daviroquir: United Kingdom, excluding Ireland

House Tervilant: Spain, Portugal (annexed France 2033)

House Luscian: France

House Jiao-long: Western United States, China

House Sojosten: Japan

House Curallorn: Eastern United States

House Kalestis: Greece, Sicily

The Armistice Hierarchy:

The Triumvirate Council: Leaders of the Free People

Speaker for the Watch: Sentinel Representative

Speaker for the Dawn: Daywalker Representative

Speaker for the Damned: Nightwalker Representative

** **

Armistice Security:

Director: Principal enforcer of the Armistice Declaration of 2021

Special Agents: Reserved for the Winds, acting as regional military commanders

The Spacer Guild:

Academy Ranks:

Chancellor: Five silver bars

Recursion Flight Instructor: Four silver bars

Conventional Flight Instructor: Three silver bars

Third Stage Cadet: Two silver bars

Second Stage Cadet: One silver bar

First Stage Cadet: No rank insignia

Fleet Ranks:

Full Captain: Five gold bars

Provisional Captain: Four gold and one silver bar

Commander: Four gold bars

Lieutenant Commander: Three gold bars

Lieutenant: Two gold bars

Ensign: One gold bar

Administrative Ranks:

Guildmaster: Two gold stars. Elected by simple ballot of Fleet Captains and Colonist Governors.

Colonist Governors: One gold star. Chief administrators of planetary colonies and orbital stations

Notable Armistice Territories:

**The Hidden Cities:**

Anchorpoint: Sentinel Capital, Armistice Security Headquarters

Icehaven: Nightwalker Capital, Court of Shadows Embassy

The Citadel: Daywalker Capital, Spacer Guild Headquarters

The Colonies

Hephaestus Station: Manufacturing facility, Earth-Moon L1

Janus Station: Orbital spaceport, Earth-Moon L2

Cassandra Station: Orbital habitat, Earth-Moon L4

Hades Station: Elysium mining facility, Earth-Moon L5

Ares Colony: Mars

Persephone Station: Ceres asteroid, ice mining facility

Lycaon Colony: Europa, Jupiter Space

Arcadia Colony: Callisto, Jupiter Space

Cronus Colony: Titan, Saturn Space

Charybdis Colony: Triton, Neptune Space

Scylla Colony: Pluto, Neptune Space
The Principal Cast

Michael Sebastian Danvers: Water Sentinel, child prodigy

Constanzo Allegri: Water Sentinel, Leader of Veneto territory

Father Padraic Donnelly: Human, Roman Catholic priest, St. Malachy's College, Belfast, Northern Ireland

Takeshi Nakamura Leshir Jiao-long: The Wind of Earth, Director of Armistice Security, Triumvirate Council Speaker for the Watch

William Thompson: Earth Sentinel, second stage cadet, Spacer Guild Academy

Ariel Daviroquir: Daywalker, third stage cadet, Spacer Guild Academy

Nicholas Jameson Magister Luscian: Daywalker/Sentinel hybrid, Triumvirate Council Ambassador to the Court of Shadows

Captain Martinius Ellestan: Daywalker, captain of the Jumpvessel _Transcendent_

Sean Rory Brennigan Magister Jiao-long: Nightwalker/Sentinel hybrid, the Redeemer, the Prince of the Dawn, Triumvirate Council Speaker for the Damned

Guildmaster Nathan Thurgood: Air Sentinel, Leader of the Spacer Guild

Layla Magister Curallorn: Daywalker, Triumvirate Council Speaker for the Dawn
Timeline

Apr      1974    Ariel born

Jan       2020    William born

Jul        2026    Michael born

Sep      2038    Odyssey Shipyards phase one construction begins

Jul        2039    Michael kindles

Sep      2039    Michael enrolls in Spacer Guild Academy

Jan       2040    Michael promoted to Second Stage; Los Angeles Incident

Feb      2040    Michael promoted to Third Stage; Odyssey Shipyards phase one construction completed

Mar      2040    Michael graduates from Spacer Guild Academy; assigned to Jumpvessel _Trident_ at Ensign rank

May     2040    Michael transferred to Jumpvessel _Victory_ at Lieutenant rank

Jul        2040    Michael turns 14; posted to Odyssey Shipyards Construction Project, Engineering division

Aug      2040    Academy memorial service; Michael promoted to Lieutenant Commander; transferred to Jumpvessel _Transcendent_ as Senior Navigator

Dec      2040    Michael promoted to Commander; remains on _Transcendent_ as First Officer

Mar      2041    Odyssey Shipyards phase two construction completed; vessel construction begins under highly accelerated time

Jul        2041    Jumpvessel _Odyssey_ completed; Michael turns 15 and is promoted to Captain; takes command of the Jumpvessel _Horizon_

Aug      2041    Odyssey Expedition departs Sol for Centauri

Oct       2041    Jumpvessel _Horizon_ destroyed in defense of Anchorpoint; _Odyssey_ crew votes unanimously to abort mission and return to Earth

Nov     2041    Cathedral of the Sky completed in glass wasteland at ground zero

Dec      2041    Jumpvessel _Odyssey_ returns to Earth

Jan       2042    Dedication of Cathedral and memorial service

Feb      2042    Odyssey Expedition departs Sol

Sep      2051    Odyssey Expedition arrives Centauri, Planet Nephele detected

Jan       2052    Chiron colony founded on Nephele
Post a Review!

If this book made a strong impression on you, whether positive or negative, consider writing a review.  Alternatively, if you wish to express yourself privately, you can contact me directly through **http://pactarcanum.com/contact/**.

Goodreads:

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to my beta readers, Jerry, Katy, Karul, and Eric for their feedback. Thank you to my editors/proofreaders Jason, Erika, and Jessica for their technical assistance. Thank you especially to the folks at IWU and II for sharing their companionship and experience. And thank you to my family, without whose support this entire project would never have been possible.
About the Author

Arshad Ahsanuddin is a practicing hematopathologist. Yes, he's a physician specializing in blood disease, writing a series of vampire novels. The irony isn't lost on him. If you enjoyed this story, or if you have questions about the Pact Arcanum saga, check out his website at http://pactarcanum.com and leave him some feedback.

Additional links:

Website: **http://pactarcanum.com**

Facebook: **http://facebook.com/pactarcanum**

Goodreads: **http://www.goodreads.com/pactarcanum**

Twitter: **http://twitter.com/pactarcanum**
Other Works

The Pact Arcanum Saga

Sunset (Book One)

Sunrise (Book Two)

Moonlight (Book Three)

Starlight (Book Four)

Cathedral of the Sky

**Non-Fiction**

First Words:

13 Short Essays on Writing from a Neophyte Author's Perspective

Stepwise:

eBook and Print-on-Demand Formatting using Word 2010
Copyright

Revised third edition - 2017

Text © 2012 by Arshad Ahsanuddin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, government institutions, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

