

## Across the Stars

By

### Anne Spackman

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Anne Spackman

All Rights Reserved.

Cover Art by Boris Rasin

### Chapter One

The aliens were here already.

And a battle for the Earth of 3084 had been waging for fifteen years.

The aliens were Orians, from a planet far away in the Rigell system, near the belt of Orion known as the Osiris Stars. A gray-skinned humanoid race, the Orians had begun an assault of the Earth, trying to recapture an ancient starship called the Selesta. The Orians' purpose in coming to the Sol system remained unknown to the Earth.

The Earth space fleet had recently attacked the Orians out at Pluto where their great spaceship Enlil was. For a moment, the Earth assault squadrons thought they had destroyed the alien vessel. But then, as the blaze surrounding the Orian's ship ceased in the vacuum of space, the alien ship remained in tact, with a great gaping hole in the side. Somehow, the Orians had survived...

* * * * *

"Heavy losses it looks like," the Earth pilot Erik Ross thought, looking at the image in his monitor. He was, for the moment, overjoyed to still be alive. Unlucky pilots who had been killed now decorated the space outside the ship, along with the debris of legions of destroyed fighter planes.

_Glad to be home_ , he thought. _But damn it, why couldn't the mission have been a success_? _Why couldn't they have blown the alien mothership to smithereens_?

He was a part of the infiltration team that had so recently invaded the alien mother ship. Now they were docked safely in the fighter bay of a small space vessel called the Stargazer, returning to the warmth and safety of the flagship Stargazer from the deathly cold around the planetoid Pluto and its twin planetoid, Charon.

"Hmmm, John Fraser, too," Erik Ross' monitor began to flash the losses from his squadron over and over, a bright light that segmented reality into disjointed split-second images.

"I can't take any more," he said, shaking his head again. He stopped looking at the names and numbers of the fallen, vaulted from the cockpit, yanked off his helmet, and let it drop to his side. He held on to it with tired, swollen fingers, though his arm felt like lead. As he stood in front of his fighter, the cold air of the docking bay seeped through the damp brown hair at the nape of his neck, chilling him.

"Shit, man, never was so glad to see you," said his friend Hans.

"You either," Erik threw back. They were overjoyed to be back.

Slowly, the rest of the Earth's infiltration team who had escaped from inside what they called the Charon aliens' spaceship began to disembark from their fighters. The fourteen survivors now gathered quietly in the docking bay, long after the other pilots had returned to their quarters. They could not join together in quite the same jubilant celebration, like the other squadrons returning to the flagship, the Stargazer.

No one knew yet the full extent of the battle's casualties, how many more comrades had been lost in the territory around the alien mothership.

They stood there together for just a few moments, waiting for confirmation of their return, while each was lost in his own separate thoughts.

_Jason, my friend_ , Erik Ross thought with an involuntary shudder, remembering lieutenant Donnelly's crash inside the alien ship. His mind replayed the images of that fight, but at last it lingered on an image of Jason's plummeting fighter falling ever closer to the ground. What couldn't he get that image out of his mind? Had Jason been alive then, or no more than–

Erik's stomach suddenly lurched, but with an effort, he managed to shake off the combination of nausea and pangs of anxiety washing over him. How many others had given their lives today defending the Stargazer? he wondered, his thoughts turning bitter.

And for what? To fail??!! For that was what had happened. No matter what valuable information the infiltration team had obtained, they hadn't managed to blow up the alien ship and send the aliens to eternity. The black monolith haunting Charon, Plutos' twin planetoid, was still out there, and to Erik, this was the same thing as failure. Unreasonable as it was to have ever expected an Earth victory, he didn't care.

_It kind of makes you feel ashamed to be one of the survivors._ But really he felt ashamed to have returned without accomplishing what they had set out to the ends of the solar system to do. "Well, at least we learned _some_ things," Erik said out loud, still standing by his fighter as he and Hans talked.

And one thing that the infiltration unit had learned was that the creatures threatening the human race were _almost_ human themselves.

"Can you believe all we saw?" Hans said, nodding. "The aliens aren't too much like us, but they're humanoid!" Hans said with a shudder. "I never expected that."

"I know what you mean, neither did I! I wonder what the Top Brass will do with this information."

"Me, too."

Erik recalled the brief images of the creatures below as he had flown through the enemy ship; he knew he was not mistaken. There was no question about what the team had seen. Granted, they were grey and taller and such, but they were humanoids!

"So the aliens from both ships are humanoid. Think they're the same—I mean, they look it, don't they!" said Hans.

Another, abandoned alien ship had crashed to the Earth nearly twenty years before, and it had been buried by an avalanche. However, it had remained hidden until recently. Six months after it came to the Earth, the Charon aliens had arrived in the solar system, possibly to claim it, or the Earth itself. No one really knew what the Charon aliens wanted, but they had begun a destructive assault against the Earth.

It was a good question—were the aliens one and the same, or were they different? Erik didn't know. No one knew—yet.

For the former occupants of the grounded alien vessel on Earth had seemingly vanished without a trace. Many people thought that if there had been any aliens inside it that they had been killed by the crash to Earth. But, recently, it had opened and the Earth had explored it, finding evidence of humanoid aliens that had once lived inside.

"They look... so human," Erik thought again in wonder. In all of his imagination, Erik had never once even thought that the Charon aliens would seem so close in form to his own.

"Yeah, you know, you think any species as violent and vicious as the Charon aliens wouldn't be humanoid—but then again," said Hans. "The human race isn't exactly innocent of war in its past."

"No..." Erik said. "But did they come here to take our world? Wonder if we'll ever know."

"Who knows?" agreed Hans.

Meanwhile, the other members of the infiltration team were also talking.

"They better not want the Earth to live on," Erik thought. In agitation, he balled a fist against the smooth surface of his Sky Hawk fighter. He drew back suddenly, temporarily drawing eyes with the abrupt intrusion of the unwanted sound. The fighter, warm only moments ago, was already encrusted with ice in the frigid cold of the docking bay; it was going to take a while for the heat to rise to normal levels. Erik pulled off his flight gloves as if to check his raw knuckles beneath, rupturing the air-tight seal of his uniform, and then stared at the lines inside his palm.

They were the same as they had always been, not marked in any way that might betray what he had done, not stained with alien—with _humanoid_ blood. However, he did not regret killing the aliens so much as how it had affected him to do it. The aliens deserved what they got, Erik thought, but at the same time, he regretted how their deaths made him necessarily a killer.

"We should be going soon." Said Hans. "I don't know why Captain Kansier hasn't contacted us yet."

"Yeah, someone should have by now." Erik said, looking up and noticing suddenly that Erin Mathieson-Blair had survived!

The girl he loved. Nothing seemed real anymore, with the line between truth and impossibility hopelessly muddled, but the concrete security that they had both survived now began to lift his mind from desolate thoughts. Erik regarded Erin a moment longer, then forcefully suppressed a sudden desire to hold her, for after the troubled chaos of battle and their frenzied mission through the alien spaceship, he wanted something permanent, something stable to hold on to.

Neither he, nor any one on Earth except Dr. Cameron knew that she was an alien in disguise. Not even she herself knew it.

Erin looked around the room.

"You ok, buddy?" A hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. Erik looked over to where lieutenant Susumu Kusao had joined him and Hans, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Erik wondered what inner thoughts he had given away in his unguarded expression and nodded that all was well.

'Well, all right, then." Kusao nodded back, but his eyes said that he understood. They did not know each other well, Erik thought, but it didn't matter. Every face in the room had been burned into his memory; he would never again think of them as strangers; whenever he saw them again, he would live this day again. This day bound them all together for life.

Suddenly a signal on their wriststrap communicators interrupted the informal memorial. It was a transmission from Colonel Kansier, captain of the Stargazer.

"Welcome home, infiltration team," Kansier greeted them in his familiar baritone, yet this time in tones of pride and relief. If only Kansier knew how strange his voice sounded to them now! How distant they all felt from the world around them...

"All the survivors of the infiltration unit are requested to report to the Tactical Analysis Room immediately." Kansier ordered.

"Message received, sir," Lieutenant Cabrel, a dark-haired, lanky man of twenty-three clipped, responding automatically.

Erik exhaled quickly and braced himself to leave the fighter bay.

* * * * *

The spaceship Selesta, grounded on the planet Earth, had been invaded twice. First, by a group of Earth soldiers, and secondly, by a lone man who had injected some of Selerael's blood into his own body: Dr. Faulkner. Known as Erin Mathieson to the Earthlings, Selerael was an alien being in disguise–daughter of Alessia, a Seynorynaelian immortal woman, and the Orian man Eiron Erlenkov, who had died millennia ago on the planet Tiasenne.

When Selesta crash landed on the Earth, Selerael had escaped–actually, she had been set free in order to look for the Enorian singularity, a remnant of exotic matter that could be used to alter the fabric of spacetime; it was supposedly on Earth. The singularity was infinitely precious as a tool for universal conquest or redemption. Selerael had grown up on the Earth, adopted by parents Richard Mathieson and Adam Blair. She did not even know that she was an alien.

Ornenkai, the living spirit housed within the main computer of Selesta, had once been the Vice-Emperor of most of the known universe. He had sacrificed his own body to haunt the ship and guide its owner to his own redemption, for only if Ornenkai could defeat and dethrone the evil emperor Marankeil could he atone for his own sins and crimes against life in the universe.

The second intruder into Ornenkai's world was a lone Earthling, who, after injecting blood from Selerael into his own system, was beginning to undergo the metamorphosis. Whether or not he would survive and become an immortal had yet to be seen. Thirty-three alone of thousands of Seynorynaelian humanoids had survived, and they were far superior to the Earth and its creatures.

Ornenkai had easily subdued the intruder into his realm, the human Aidan Faulkner, the foolish creature who had injected himself with Selerael's blood.

All of this helped Ornenkai to realize several things. First, Ornenkai knew at last that Hinev's serum did flow in Selerael's veins, for Ornenkai had seen Hinev's serum at work before, and he had also seen the metamorphosis fail. Even when it failed, none were exempt from the agony of the poison; in truth, those who rejected the serum or who were denied an adequate dose merely suffered longer.

_The foolish man wanted to gain immortality_  _somehow, he had discovered the truth, and he knew what he was doing when he injected Selerael's blood into his own body_.

Well, Ornenkai had dealt with Faulkner, had drawn the man to the ship and contained him before he could do any more harm in the outside world, but now Ornenkai's anger turned towards the people of Earth. Where had they hidden the Enorian singularity? He wondered to no avail; in all this time, Selerael had not been able to find it, though, under his guidance, she had long unwittingly searched the leading science centers of Earth.

She had found something else, and it was clear to him through his connection to her that she had somehow found an ancient Enorian lyra seed—and injested it. What is had done to her he didn't entirely know. For lyra seeds had never been seen before. The lyra forest on his own home world never produced seeds, and once dead, the lyra, planted by the Enorians, were gone forever.

As for the singularity, Ornenkai just couldn't believe it wasn't there, even though, had he admitted it to himself, he had nothing more than an Enorian legend to justify his belief that it was here. Yet he had believed in the legend of the Enorian singularity for thousands of years so faithfully–how could it _not_ be here?

At long last, though, Ornenkai was now beginning to believe that he had been wrong, that the singularity was not to be found on Earth or that he had made some mistake in his interpretation of the Enorian legends.

In but a fleeting moment in his long life, the hopes of ten thousand years had been dashed. He had made the long journey to Kiel3, to the Earth, for nothing at all. He had taken Selerael from her mother, Alessia, for nothing. This dredged bitterness from the depths of his soul! Was there nothing to be done to destroy the Emperor, once his best friend, and free their souls from damnation? Ornenkai knew the depths of that evil. He knew what power it would take for heaven to forgive him for having done all that he had as the Vice-Emperor.

Now the careless creatures of Earth were intolerably invading his ship, invading Selesta with their barbaric teams of scientists. With all of their unconcealed poking about, it was certain to be only a matter of time now before Sargon, Great Leader of the Orians that the Earthlings called the Charon aliens, detected the ship and came to the Earth himself, despite the anti-radar cloak Ornenkai had engaged around the ship to safeguard its location.

What if Sargon, that suffering near-immortal Orian Leader, were to find the singularity Ornenkai had failed to locate?–the Enorian singularity, the most powerful piece of exotic matter in the universe? The thought was too much to bear–he could set himself up as the next eternal emperor. And, without Selerael's presence on board, the computer Ornenkai could not even keep Selesta from him; Ornenkai, once feared, once powerful, once respected Vice-Emperor of all the Seynorynaelian Empire, was now helpless.

But if Selerael was now a true Immortal, then there was still hope, he reminded himself. She wouldn't die within an ordinary lifetime–he had to believe that. He needed her to control Selesta fully, and he needed her to survive for the sake of his conscience.

Ornenkai made a decision.

It was time to give up the search. And time to return to Alessia, time to return to the Rigell system.

* * * * *

"Anything wrong?" asked Kansier.

Major Scott Alexander Dimitriev was unaware that his present facial expression betrayed his mental distraction to those who knew him well, unaware that across the Stargazer's bridge, Colonel Arthur Kansier was watching him closely.

"We failed to blow up the alien ship," he said. "Do I look as upset as I feel?"

"You do," said Kansier. "But there'll be another battle. It isn't over yet."

Kansier was a man of his word, highly observant, the sort who seldom gave up on a fight. He was ethical but tended to rate efficiency and integrity as the two greatest virtues. Kansier believed that attaining the good for the many mattered more than seeking his own personal glory. This of course, made him an excellent leader.

"I guess of course, you're right," said Dimitriev.

Kansier suppressed an instinct to make an inquiry about what was upsetting Dimitriev further, knowing it would do no good to pry. Kansier wasn't ordinarily the sort to pry, anyway, and Dimitriev wasn't the kind of man who exposed his problems to others or the kind to seek advice, though the advice he gave could generally be trusted. Of course, Kansier wouldn't have promoted him had he not been a good officer and a fair man, as hard on himself as he was on others and more reliable than any one Kansier had ever known. Over the last two years, Kansier had sincerely come to believe that when Dimitriev gave his word, nothing short of injury kept the man from keeping it. More than a bit like himself, he thought in approval. Even though Dimitriev said that honor was only an illusion, the man clearly lived by honorable principles.

Yet what if Dimitriev's strange behavior today began to interfere with his duty as Co-Captain? Kansier wondered, as Scott shifted restlessly in his chair. Despite his concerns, Kansier was willing to give Dimitriev the benefit of the doubt and time to sort out whatever it was that was bothering him. Dimitriev had always been able to pull himself together when he was most needed.

Kansier had tried his best to curb the younger man's anger for revenge, to give his anger a constructive outlet by making him Co-Captain and laying the copious responsibilities of running a spaceship on his shoulders. Dimitriev's underlying hatred of the aliens was a resource to be tamed and used productively, Kansier knew, despite the contrary opinions held by his fellow ship commanders.

Kansier felt gratified that Dimitriev had vindicated Kansier's faith on more than one occasion. Dimitriev was, understandably, afraid to let any one get close to him, after having suffered the loss of his entire family. Kansier knew that very few people understood what that kind of loss could do to a man, or to anyone.

"Anything on your mind you want to tell me about?" asked Kansier.

"Nothing special sir," Dmitriev said, perhaps believing himself, but his expression suggested otherwise.

Dimitriev was also the kind of person who might criticize outwardly what he did not always feel in his heart of hearts; he didn't always say what he thought, to keep his mind and heart from being criticized by others. This observation was a logical deduction on Kansier's part; whatever principles Dimitriev lived by, the secrets of them belonged to him and none other.

Yet despite the years Kansier had known his subordinate officer, Kansier hadn't been able to understand Dimitriev's odd behavior just prior to and throughout the battle, though he didn't have much time to reflect upon it until now, with the battle over. Now he realized that Dimitriev's face had the look of a man who had sold his soul to the devil at the moment when the devil at last came to collect.

"I did something I shouldn't have done," said Dimitriev at last.

When the infiltration team returned just minutes ago, a moment of elation had swept over them all, but Dimitriev's relief had been short-lived. If anything, he appeared more upset than elated by the news. Kansier didn't ask him about it, though, figuring that Dimitriev would find whatever resolution he needed on his own.

Meanwhile, Scott listened as Kansier made an announcement to Arnaud's returning infiltration team, instructing them to head to the Tactical Analysis Room. Scott understood that it was his duty to make an appearance as well.

How could he face Erin? He had been so cruel to her before they parted. He felt a horrible unease in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn't easy to recollect himself, but there was nothing else he could do.

* * * * *

Heading towards the door, Kansier turned to see if his Co-Captain was coming and took notice of Dimitriev's sudden composure.

"All ready for debriefing, sir." The Major offered, cool and aloof.

_Such indifference now,_ Kansier thought in complete surprise, yet still quietly circumspect. From his tone of voice, Dimitriev might as well have been commenting on the weather!

But Kansier wasn't easily fooled.

* * * * *

The Stargazer had passed Neptune on its way home from the Charon front line, and all defense systems had returned to normal status, but the infiltration team's conference with Colonel Kansier, Captain of the Stargazer, and his Co-Captain, Major Dimitriev, was just getting under way in the Tactical Analysis Room. When they had all been seated around the conference table, Kansier asked for a brief account of the mission's progress in order that he could compile a concise but comprehensive report for the meetings back on Earth.

"One at a time, I'd like to hear some of your impressions of the alien mothership," Kansier motioned to his right with a wave of his hand, turning the conversation over to them.

"Beginning with the hull." Said Kansier, off-handedly. "It would be very interesting to learn how their ship was constructed. I want to know how well-armored that thing is without their electromagnetic shields."

The ploy they had used to allow the infiltration unit inside was not likely to work a second time; the Earth was going to have to figure out how to deactivate the enemy's shields permanently if they ever hoped to survive, and if the hull itself was penetrable–the Earth just might have a chance, Kansier thought.

Although nearing fifty, Kansier appeared scarcely older than he had at thirty, though there were perhaps a few more wrinkles around his bright hazel eyes; however, with the average life expectancy well over one hundred, Kansier was often heard to say that he would think about slowing down in another fifty years–if he was fortunate enough to live that long. The alien threat to Earth had, in recent years, substantially lowered the lifespan estimate.

"Well, sir, the outer hull is about ten meters," Lieutenant Ricna began with detachment, though such a high estimate effectively minimized any hopes of compromising the alien hull by any means available to the Earth.

For a while, Mara Ricna had been leading the team, until Erik took over. Ricna was a tough woman of twenty, with ropy muscle and little grace, but with such an earnest face that few ever questioned her assessments.

"I see," Kansier nodded, a flicker of anxiety barely perceptible behind his eyes.

"Underneath there's a kind of–you might call it a floating hull," Ricna continued.

"A 'floating hull'?" Kansier echoed, not bothering to conceal his skepticism.

"Well, yes." Ricna nodded thoughtfully, with a disconcerting air of certainty regarding her appraisal. "We came into an area filled with electro-magnetically charged wires attached to another layer of loose hull plates just under the hull's skin. My guess is that when the hull was breached, the wires brought one of the hull plates in to seal the gap, but I didn't actually see it myself–the wires began to tighten in the channel you created for us, and we had to hurry to reach the far breach or be caught in the electromagnetic net. Otherwise our mission would have ended there."

"Let's all be thankful for Arnaud's new fighters." Kansier nodded. "And then?"

"Then we passed through the breach in an inner layer of plates that seals the second hull while heading for the interior–the plates there were also beginning to move as we made it through." Ricna continued. "I suppose another few seconds and we'd have been crushed. As it was, there was no way back out the way we had come in."

"Just like the other one," Kansier muttered under his breath, thinking of the grounded alien dreadnought on Earth, with its many movable, overlapping hull layers and plates under the smooth outer hull.

"I don't know what everyone else expected to come across, but that place was nothing like I imagined, sir," Lieutenant Etienne Charbonneau interrupted, shaking his head.

"I can imagine," Dimitriev agreed, scanning Charbonneau's face. "And I'm sure there is hardly a soul alive who wouldn't like to know what the enemy we're facing truly is. Can you describe what you saw?"

Kansier nodded to Charbonneau, who, at twenty-three, was about two years older than Dimitriev.

"I'll try, sir," Charbonneau paused, reflecting, glancing between Kansier and Dimitriev. "It was really antiseptic you might say, and cold. Definitely not organic, either. The walls and floors were completely seamless, dark blue or green metal alloys, and there weren't any lights on. Most of the time the place looked deserted."

"Interesting," Kansier nodded. "Ross, Mathieson, how do you think the interior compared with the ship here on Earth?" Kansier asked, turning his gimlet hazel eyes to them. As part of the Blue Stripe Sky Hawk squadron, they were the only two of Arnaud's infiltration team to have been inside the first alien ship, grounded on Earth.

"The coloration and architecture were completely different, sir." Erik shrugged, seeing where Kansier was going. "But the air locks, cargo bay, and I guess even the walls were the same," he admitted.

"The same?" Dimitriev repeated, though it was not really a question.

"Yes, sir. Still, there was one odd thing," Erik said, his eyes still on Kansier. "There weren't many doors. Almost none, actually. The few we saw weren't like ours or like the ones in the first alien ship."

"How so?" Kansier wondered.

"Well, sir, there were huge identification plates on them." Erik explained. "We got footage of a few traveling at high speed. If you want my opinion, sir, I suggest we try to slow down the vidigital footage and isolate the writing–compare it to the samples we obtained in the ship on Earth."

Kansier thought for a moment. He had yet to inform anyone of Knightwood's assessment, that the alien script proved the aliens had been on Earth long ago, in that their writing had an Egyptian falcon hieroglyph in it, and type I cuneiform in the name plates. Kansier had yet to deal with the news. If the aliens were related to the ancient civilizations of the Earth, was the Earth an alien colony? And how were the aliens related to Earth people, if at all? No one yet knew the answer.

"Yes, we're having the shipboard analysts copy and examine the alien script," Kansier said, recalling the countless sealed doors of the alien ship on Earth. Although the grounded alien ship had seemed abandoned and uninhabited after the recon teams explored it, the nature of its origin was still a burning question in everyone's mind, and Kansier himself wasn't entirely convinced that they were safe from that quarter, either.

"As interesting as that may prove to be, sir," Lieutenant Kusao interrupted, pushing his chair back casually and folding his arms across his chest, "we found something I know that the UESRC, the United Earth Scientific Research Center, will want to know about as soon as possible."

"Do go on, Lieutenant," Kansier said, intrigued.

"Well, sir, we had gone a substantial way further inside the ship to an enormous area, a few miles wide, and several miles long, where it looked like they had recreated–an entire terrestrial city."

Kansier listened attentively, showing no outward sign of surprise. His expression was fiercely concentrated, and they could see his eyes were working over the information. Then Major Dimitriev coughed, and Kansier looked up again, combing his hands through his hair to compose himself.

"There were mountains further ahead, and thousands of buildings below, sir." Kusao continued. "We got a look at some trees unlike any I've ever seen. Then Erik managed to find the best passage to the power center up above the city, but at first it had been hidden by the artificial sky projection."

"Sky projection?" Kansier repeated tonelessly.

"Yes, sir. I've never seen as many stars as were projected," Kusao finished.

"We'll review the recorded material," Dimitriev added. "And maybe if the projection correlates to known stellar coordinates, we can determine roughly where these aliens came from."

"You didn't make it to the energy source, though," Kansier commented, masking his disappointment. One thing the infiltration unit had been sent to do was to incapacitate or even possibly blow the alien ship up from the inside if they could. The idea that they could blow up the alien ship from inside had been an optimistic dream.

More than that though, Arnaud wanted _information_ about the aliens, information that might reveal how best to defeat them, just in case some unknown ship number three or four or five ever appeared in the Sol system. The last attempted nuclear attack on the Charon aliens' ship had only succeeded in destroying the surface of nearby Pluto; the aliens had a kind of shield barrier protecting their ship that made it impenetrable–except during an attack, when they deployed their own fighters. That had been the weakness that allowed the infiltration team inside the Charon aliens' vessel, but Arnaud had had no idea what to expect inside. No one had. It seemed even a nuclear bomb had been somehow isolated and kept from doing more than intensive damage to a limited region of their ship.

"No, sir, we couldn't find any power source," Kusao shook his head. "That is, we couldn't get to many of the main power areas. The corridors were too tight for us to maneuver. And by the time we reached one of the higher energy areas, our infiltration had been discovered. I think maybe someone in the city heard our fighters above them. In any case, we ended up being chased away from the engine area and down a wide corridor in the open air, with buildings over twenty meters high to our right and left." Kusao finished.

Erik leaned forward. "We were flying down that corridor when we lost Lieutenant Donnelley, sir. We were hemmed in, but it seemed the fighters we encountered were protecting some of the creatures below us."

"Creatures, you say?" Kansier's hazel eyes flickered with sudden interest. "Did you get a look at them, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." Erik shook his head affirmatively, then raised his eyes to give Kansier a meaningful stare. "They _appeared_ to be humanoid, sir. Grey-skinned, with more, well, bird-like heads than us. Hard to describe it otherwise, but they were like humanoids with more pointed heads, I guess you would say."

Kansier remained silent, his hands folded together under his chin, his head partially bowed, elbows resting on the table.

Dimitriev shifted in his chair; the muscle beneath his left eye twitched. "Humanoid?"

"Yes," Erik said, squarely facing the Major, as though savoring Dimitriev's reaction.

"You saw the creature in the picture from the alien ship that landed on Earth. Any similarities?" Kansier demanded.

"I thought so, sir." Erik looked to the viewscreen, regarding it thoughtfully. "The only difference as far as I could tell was that these aliens had blond hair, almost white really."

"They _weren't_ the same," Erin interjected quietly.

"Oh?" Kansier responded, turning to her curiously; the others had also turned. It was clear that they didn't agree with her statement. "How so?"

"Well, sir, when you get the footage, just look at their eyes." Erin offered. "There're so–pardon me sir, but they're so damned catatonic, like they are clones or some other species with less intelligence."

"Don't be ridiculous. They are both humanoids, with grey skin," Ricna laughed, summarily dismissing Erin's argument. She had heard that the girl was suppose to be a genius of some kind, but this kind of statement gave Ricna serious cause to doubt rumor. "Remember that they share some similarities visually—but I guess we can't say for sure unless we get DNA samples."

"Hmmm," Kansier said, pondering Erin's words and remembering conversations he had shared with Knightwood and Zhdanov just after their return from the ship buried on Earth. During the mission, he had seen relays of the brief footage taken by the recon team as the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks emerged from the alien vessel, footage the visual experts were now segmenting together in proper order. Erin Mathieson's instincts concerning the aliens had been so integral to their discoveries that he was not entirely ready to dismiss her argument yet.

"The eyes are a mirror to the soul," Kansier said thoughtfully a moment later.

"What was that, sir?" Dimitriev asked.

"It's nothing." Kansier shrugged. "Don't be too hasty to dismiss any ideas here, lieutenant Ricna. We still need the DNA, anyway," Kansier turned back to lieutenant Ross.

"Let's leave out conjectures about the aliens, though." He said. "Right now I just want the facts, without any amateur conclusions. We'll leave those up to the experts. All I want is to proceed quickly with this debriefing. I'm sure you all need some time to recuperate and compile your reports."

* * * * *

After the long session with Kansier, Erin trailed behind the others as they left the conference room. She was tired. They had been on duty for too long. Only at home was there a time for play, usually when Squeaky the siamese cat came over to be pet and cuddled.

But, as time went by, Erin was becoming more and more dissatisfied with living for the future, for tomorrow, and with ignoring the growing part within her that wished more than anything for someone to share things with, to enjoy life with today. For so long, she had thought Scott Dimitriev was certain to be the right person for that, and since he had dispelled her illusion just a short time ago, she felt hollow inside. She had begun recently to feel that very little mattered any more, except doing what had to be done, except doing her duty.

Erin watched Erik disappear around an intersection ahead, but while the others parted ways down their own corridors, groaning about sore muscles and fatigue, trying to drown their sorrow in conversation, Erin felt too anxious for sleep.

She knew others who would get no sleep that night. In the recent battle, Lieutenant Grayson of the Ural Base's bagrovii team had lost her fiancé, lieutenant Gibson of the UESRC's orange team of three years ago. He had recently returned to join the infiltration unit from two years at the Ganymede orbit near Jupiter on board the _Carolian_. Grayson was a short, slightly round girl with rosy cheeks, bright lovely brown eyes, and a mass of curly brown tendrils, yet at the moment her eyes were dull and hollow from fatigue and grief. Yet Grayson refused to be comforted by anyone in the infiltration team; Erin decided it was just as well. She wasn't sure how much comfort she would have been to anyone right now.

Scott hadn't spoken a word to her during the debriefing or given any sign to indicate that he was relieved to see her; his detachment disappointed her, but after her clumsy confession in the hours before the battle, it no longer surprised her. He felt nothing for her, that much was clear, and though she knew she had been mistaken about a great many things regarding his character and behavior, she had analyzed herself, and she knew she still loved him. She had meant what she said, that she understood that difficult circumstances had brought him to his present state of mind, but she could still remember what he had once been in late childhood and would always love him for that, no matter what his present opinion of her was.

She didn't expect anything from him, and she was not about to feel sorry for herself. She had never believed in mythical white knights on war horses or that one would ever come to save her or solve her problems for her. She had only ever wanted to rely upon herself, to be independent and yet to have something more than that: someone else to love. However, during the long wait before the infiltration team was deployed, she had found ample time to sort out her feelings.

She found it easy to think about turning herself into a hard unfeeling stone and found she rather liked it. It was much better than the embarassment of confessions of love.

Erin was so fully convinced of this that on the way to the debriefing, she had decided to give Dmitriev up at last. That did not mean she would give up her love for him. That would have been impossible, as she had told him it would be, even if he had demanded her to do so. She could just be herself. Yet she expected nothing and nothing from him.

A few minutes later, she was about to activate the door panel when she remembered that she had promised Nathalie a match of chess before the unexpected transmission had arrived from Earth to deploy the fighters; it was still only mid-afternoon, though time was an artificial imposition here, where the sun's light barely reached them.

Retreating her steps and making a right at the last intersection, Erin found the decorated door of her squadron mate and good friend. She knocked softly on the door and announced herself, even though the computerized door screener would have already signaled that she was there.

"So the prodigal returns at last!" Nathalie Quinn declared affectionately, drawing her inside and giving her a fierce hug. The short, fiery French-Canadian girl with sharp emerald eyes was usually reserved about such displays of affection; even as she came inside, Erin suspected something might be wrong.

Aside from the brief moment of animation, Nathalie seemed unusually lethargic; she had yet to take off her flightsuit from the recent battle, even though it was quite warm in the crew's quarters.

Ho-ling Chen, their close friend, remained seated on her chair, busy reading a book on her electronic notebook. Ho-ling had put on a sleeveless shirt that exposed her sinewy arms and sat with her feet carelessly propped up on the table.

"We're glad to see you," Nathalie continued, tucking her dark curls behind her ears. "They told us Arnaud's team had returned with heavy casualties, but they wouldn't say yet who made it back safely. And–Erik?" Nathalie added.

"Yes, he's back in his quarters." Erin nodded. Nathalie shrugged and looked down, then began to fidget with her sleeve.

"So what happened out there?" Ho-ling asked, finally turning to them, breaking her farce of composure and indifference. There was a disturbing quality of hidden pain in her eyes. Erin waited to determine what had been the cause of it.

"I really don't know if we're supposed to talk about the mission until we've given the information to the Earth Security Force Council." Erin admitted.

"Oh," Nathalie said, disappointed.

"But then again," Erin continued, "Kansier's sending some information to Knightwood and Zhdanov so they can prepare their arguments. And he didn't order us to keep quiet. Besides, you were both in the other alien ship, and who else are you going to tell?"

"Don't get yourself into trouble on our account," Ho-ling protested, turning away abruptly, but Nathalie was having none of it.

"Forget her," she shrugged, "and let us know what the aliens look like. Did you see any? Are they disgusting? How many heads and arms and do they have? Or–if they're really awful, maybe I don't want to know."

Erin laughed. "You're in for an even bigger surprise than you imagine. I think we should wait until Katrin gets here. I'd hate to have to repeat everything."

Nathalie and Ho-ling grew silent. Nathalie's smile disappeared, and her lips compressed to a thin red line.

"We didn't want to tell you, Erin, until you'd had a chance to recover from what you've been through, but–Katrin–" Ho-ling faltered, her eyes to the far wall. Nathalie had been watching her, her heart-shaped face emotionless. Then tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.

"Katrin?" Erin cried in protest, but Ho-ling only nodded.

"Akira, too, and several of the others–"

"Not now, Ho-ling," Nathalie interrupted sharply. "She's already got so much on her mind, and all those losses in the infiltration team–"

"It's all right, Nathalie, I'll be all right." Erin insisted, but even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

No, it couldn't be! How could it be that they would all not be coming back? Not Katrin! Not Katrin! Not her dear friend, not one so young, so full of life! How could she, Erin, have passed the day in debriefing and not have known? How could she not have sensed that one so dear had left the world forever?

Battle was a game of luck, but knowing what could happen and experiencing it were two different things entirely. The true horror of it all had never set in before; Erin had seen but paid little attention to the rings of debris trapped in orbit around Pluto and Charon, the rings of debris that the cadets called the sea of lost souls.

Pluto, lord of the dead, had claimed them for his own.

### Chapter Two

"Glad to be home?" Asked Kansier.

"Definitely," his co-Captain said and nodded. "I have never felt so relieved to see anyone or anything in all my life."

As the Stargazer approached the brilliant blue Earth after six long months in space, the bridge crew gazed transfixed by the swath of vapors that danced about the slow-turning globe. No mere words could describe the beauty of it or imitate the primal joy in the hearts of the crew that had returned home at last.

The debriefing session of the top officers of the Stargazer took place two days after the bridge crew had visually sighted the Earth and scarcely four hours after the flagship had docked in the second largest cargo bay of Central City's Security Base. Before the second flight crew left the bridge, Colonel Kansier informed his navigators and weapons system operators that they would have to accompany him and Major Dimitriev as well as the other eight officers from the first and third bridge crews to the Security Council Conference room in Central City's Council Headquarters building. The surviving members of the infiltration team had been invited to attend the meeting after the first hour, but they had only to stay briefly to give their reports and explain their mission as the Council viewed the footage.

Erin waited behind the others outside the conference room; there were two great Greek columns with a double helix of cobras wrapped around the base. Ahead she could see her friends: the ruddy, fair-haired Russian Nikolai Kaganov, the big blond Viking Einar Andersen, and Erik Ross standing at attention behind Kansier and Dimitriev and the Council aides.

When they were at last invited into the United Earth Security Force Council room, Kansier scanned the room and met eyes with the UESF Secretary/President Hilbert, Vice President Maria Portocarrero, and Vice Chief Kathryn Hines-Gallo; several representatives he knew from the Ural Base including Fabrichnova and Tipler had already arrived, as well as representatives from Yokohama. And there were others he knew from the Central European Security Base and from the Cairo Security Base–but all of the faces were a blur right now. Knightwood, Zhdanov, Cheung, and Colonel Arnaud himself were already seated near the open seats reserved for the Stargazer's crew; Kansier led the others to their seats and waited for Hilbert to convene the meeting.

"Glass of cranberry juice?" said one of the aides.

"Yes, thank you,' Hilbert took one sip of his refreshment, as did the other participants.

As it turned out, the Council wanted to know every minor detail concerning the strategic firing of the weapon that had breached the alien hull, the statistics surrounding casualties for each moment the Stargazer had remained in the line of fire, how many lives it would cost to buy precious minutes if the Council decided another infiltration were necessary. They wanted to speak with the navigator who had piloted the ship during battle, lieutenant Fenwick, and hear his insights into what the best evasive adjustments had been.

And they found it interesting that the alien ship had fired only a few small shots at the Stargazer, that in doing so they had been forced to immolate some of their own pilots since none of the space between the two ships had been entirely clear. The infiltration unit arrived some time later and answered a barrage of questions for nearly two hours before being dismissed. Kansier and Dimitriev remained to discuss the reports the infiltration team had compiled; Erin Mathieson-Blair and Erik Ross remained as the second bridge crew navigators, along with the four other officers from the third and first bridge crews.

Secretary Hilbert said very little by way of introducing the UESF Council's plans; Erik found the man tremendously boring, with a slow laborious way of arriving at a point. In ten minutes, his entire speech offered no more than a summary documenting historic decisions and the difficulty with which they had been implemented. From Hilbert's position, the Council might decide to continue with its present attack strategies, or for the hell of it, it might just try something different, but what that was he wasn't sure. He really wanted to avoid the messy business altogether.

Clearly, though Hilbert had not considered the possibility before, the enemy was after something besides simple global annihilation, or the Earth would not have been spared. So Hilbert delivered an appeal for a brainstorm to determine precisely what the enemy wanted and how best to give it to them so they would finally go away. For all he knew, the enemy was merely using the Earth as a drill site to strengthen its soldiers against a race who, unlike the inhabitants of Earth, could possibly pose a significant threat to them.

As he spoke, Hilbert's gaze lingered on Dr. Knightwood, his lips spreading into a smile, his eyes vacant but soft. Hilbert was a painfully thin man with angular features. His light brown hair was thin and fine and seemed to cling to his skull; his sallow skin seemed stretched over his prominent brow. Yet he was not, on the whole, as ill-formed as these singular features; his face was well-shaped and his cheeks were round, and when he was looking at Knightwood, his eyes turned calm as a millpond, and a thin but pleasant smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. However, Hilbert was in most ways, thoroughly unimaginative, a slow, plodding sort of man, with little talent and a lot of brilliant supporters who controlled him in subtle ways. Hilbert had no wife; and as stated perviously, he made no attempt to conceal the fact that he admired Knightwood.

Meanwhile, Knightwood tried to contain herself as she had masked her anticipation over her own forthcoming speech. She had some new developments to present once the rest had had their say, information that would render the entire discussion unnecessary. Yet she remained silent. Let the others speak; she might be able to determine better what side each person's bread was buttered on and how best to use the information to her advantage.

A moment later, Mr. Tipler rose in his chair; though a plain representative, he was nonetheless esteemed by the Council for his manipulative abilities and unswerving eagerness to rip the jugular of anyone who stood in his way.

"Who could have guessed that we were fighting our brothers?" Tipler, a grey-haired man with a bronze complexion and blue eyes that twinkled like ice, entreated dolefully, showing open palms to the assembly. His hawkish eyes darted over his audience in a calculating way, hidden by an expression that was a farce of sincerity; as happened so often, one could not tell his true nature by his outward appearance. "Yes, that's what these aliens are–the odds alone that we share a body form by coincidence are astronomical, and so we must consider that through some intervention, though the means we shall never know, we share a common ancestry with these creatures who have returned to our world.

"And what do they want with us? some ask," he continued authoritatively, shaking his head. "Perhaps nothing. Perhaps they had no intention of ever disturbing us, perhaps they wanted merely to check up on humanity's progress, but some event must have changed all of their benevolent intentions. I say _we_ are to blame.

"Yes, all of this time we have taken the wrong approach." He nodded somberly, refusing to brook interruptions. "The day the first alien ship arrived–you all remember, don't you? We never intended to keep it for ourselves, and yet we allowed it to remain hidden. That was our first mistake, the first of many.

"We can now see from the picture we discovered there and the footage of Arnaud's brave team that our aliens are the same, that though their people on board have disappeared, the ship is rightfully still theirs. When they came to us, desperate to find their possession, we offered no help, but we sent out our own fighters to attack them, making it clear we intended to keep what we had found, what was never ours to take," he glared around the room, making Knightwood among others feel uncomfortable.

"Who here would not fight for what is ours?" He asked. "Indeed, perceiving we were merely defending the Earth, we have done just that. And who here would abandon fellow comrades? For all they know, we may still hold them prisoner or have killed them ourselves. Would we not demand justice, exact revenge? Then why can we not understand, can we not even recognize the cause of our enemy?" He paused dramatically, shaking his head, then slapped the table with both hands.

"I say we should give back what was never ours and return the alien ship to them. Perhaps if we can make them understand that we never meant to deny their claim, that we misunderstood their intentions, then they will forgive us and leave the Earth at peace once more."

Erin bristled as she listened to Tipler's specious suggestions. What he said struck her as a self-righteous castigation against those who attempted to protect the planetary colonies and citizens on Earth, an effort to escape his own culpability and exonerate the council from wrongdoing, as if the military types had waited a bit longer to defend the Earth, the council would have decided to talk first–and then the fighting would have been averted. Never mind that years ago the training bases and the United Earth Security Force itself had been the Council's idea.

The others had politely waited for Tipler to finish; most of the Council wore approving faces. Recently, some of the council hierarchy had grown irritated that the UESF hadn't completely gotten rid of the alien threat yet and openly questioned its competence; the majority of the regional council representatives could not hide their growing fears that global eradication would be the retaliation for the Earth's recent infiltration of the alien spaceship. Even those that thought Tipler was being ridiculous to suggest such a thing this late in the game would have given the Earth-grounded vessel back in an instant if they thought the Charon aliens would let bygones be bygones.

In the long pause, the UESF members could see that a few of the councilors were beginning to be persuaded by Tipler's suggestion. If annihilation were inevitable, then what harm could it do to see if Tipler's theory could work?–Erik could almost read the question on the Councilors' faces. Tipler's position was attractive, even he had to admit. Who knew? Maybe the aliens _would_ simply leave if they had what they wanted. Maybe the Charon aliens would leave if the Earth relinquished the first alien spaceship to them.

"Don't even suggest giving them the ship!" Erin's voice suddenly interrupted the silence; there was a deadly cold edge in her voice, a quiet, dangerous chill that had never been there before. As Erik watched her, she came to her feet so fluidly, so rapidly that it seemed she had not really moved at all.

Erik smiled inwardly at her temerity–as much as he was alarmed by it.

"You've been ignoring the facts." Erin shook her head. "Does anyone remember the man in that picture that we found on the grounded alien ship?" she asked, meeting Knightwood's eyes; Knightwood in particular had spent a lot of time analyzing it. As several of the others nodded, Erin continued, directing her argument to them. "Do any of you remember the building that rose behind him in the distance? The bight white, intricately ornate buildings, the decorative dome? You can just imagine how much pride the people of that city took in their architecture, can't you?"

"Yes," Fabrichnova agreed.

"But this city," Erin continued and gestured to the small, frozen image in the holo-monitor, "the city we saw first hand in the other ship–just look at it! Have you ever seen a more oppressive scene? A mass of violet buildings that in no way resembles the architecture in the picture we found. And what about the holo-projection of volcanic mountain ranges?" She pointed to the vidigital footage in the frame on the wall, which pictured mountains like crude grated rust, tinged with the vermilion of fissures in the volcanoes' facade, with scraggly trees dotting the low-lying hills before them. "Why are they there? They're hardly attractive at all, but you can be sure someone went to a great effort to make the city look like a real place for a reason." Erin paused.

"True." Cheung conceded, uncustomarily putting his head on Tipler's chopping block.

"Why then would they choose to recreate such a horrifying place if it did not hold some significant meaning for them?" Erin demanded. "If it were not their home environment? If they can cast images that real, why wouldn't they want to surround themselves with a paradise if they could?"

Even Tipler nodded then, listening with greater interest.

"Now, if you recall the other picture," Erin continued, "you can see that at the very least, that would make the philosophies behind these images strikingly opposed. The geography which we can see most certainly is. But you want us to believe that these people are the same just because they may look alike to us?" She demanded, her voice rising. As they watched her, her eyes took on a strange hypnotic quality, shining with the glow of resolution and conviction.

"Have there not been Civil Wars in the countries of our past?" Erin continued with passion. "How similar did the nations of the Earth seem even when they went to war over their differences?"

"Hmm," Knightwood said, considering that argument, and several of the representatives nodded.

"Now take a look at the creatures in the footage." Erin turned to gesture at the other vidigital still, still looking at the councilors but avoiding Tipler's gaze. "As you can see, they're wearing a completely different garb from the flightsuit we discovered in the grounded ship on Earth. And again the man in the picture we found there wasn't wearing anything like our Charon aliens. Then there is the writing you have all had a chance to examine–now while it may be similar, as Knightwood already pointed out, our cryptographers tell us it is not exactly _identical._

"That should mean something to us," Erin shook her head forcefully. "Many of our world's countries, though often at war with each other, all used the same roman script. So even if they are related–they are clearly not the same people."

"Interesting," Zhdanov said to Cheung.

"I don't have a neat little hypothesis for anyone about who the Charon aliens might be. All I'm saying is that we have no idea why the Charon aliens are here, and we did nothing to them before they destroyed Gallagher's Pluto base." Erin continued. "All we've received from them so far is hostility, no gestures of cooperation–but you want to give them the ship on Earth and see what they'll do with it? If you ask me, I don't think we would have very long to regret that mistake."

Knightwood had been eyeing Erin curiously while she spoke. Never in all the years she had known her had Erin ever delivered a more passionate speech; but while Knightwood found it odd, she would have applauded it had discretion not been necessary.

Knightwood focused her attention again and looked about at the others; their faces expressed various levels of surprise. The council appeared partially persuaded, but then again who knew for how long. Erin's squadron mates seemed a bit stunned. Yet Knightwood wasn't surprised, only pleased. There was a stubborn, resolute, indomitable streak in Erin's reserved but amiable character that Knightwood had sensed long ago, and she had expected it to surface at some point; in the gap of silence that dragged by, Knightwood collected her arguments and called for the council's attention. It was time to let them in on the greatest news of all.

"Ahem, fellow councilors, may I speak?" Knightwood said, drawing their attention. "It may interest you to know that in the past few months since Dr. Zhdanov, Dr. Cheung, and I were granted clearance to examine the alien ship, we have made some unexpected progress. Many of the sections have remained sealed despite our efforts, but we have detected no further life signs that we know of, except encased biological specimens, no doubt once used for scientific studies. Many of the artifacts have been analyzed, providing a wealth of information on our alien civilization, which I must admit leaves me inclined to agree with our young lieutenant here.

"The UESF does not feel that the aliens that sent this ship to Earth ever intended its capture," Knightwood continued decisively, "nor would they wish the rare and beautiful objects they crafted to be pawed by a cruel race clearly insensitive to the survival of other forms of life, including those of the Earth. Yet we do not know how much longer we can keep its existence secret, or vouchsafe the powerful tools on board. Granted, the last assault appears to have bought us a little time. But grounded on Earth, the ship here would inevitably become a target, perhaps even causing," she paused dramatically, "the complete destruction of our planet.

"Now, it might be true that the aliens at Charon chose Earth as a target, knowing nothing of this vessel–then again perhaps capturing this ship itself is indeed their goal." Knightwood paused again, lowering her eyes thoughtfully. "But _if_ we could use the grounded spaceship's technology to our advantage, to even the odds, we might bring the conflict back to space and spare our children from this nightmare."

"What?" Knightwood's old friend Representative Fabrichnova reacted, catching her breath sharply as Knightwood leaned back in her chair.

"Ridiculous!" Representative Tipler exclaimed at the top of his voice. "Fantasy! How long would it take for us to even learn to use the ship's mechanisms?"

"Not as long as you would think to get it off the ground–" Knightwood failed to interject any further.

"And how do we know we wouldn't be activating some alert that would draw the aliens from Pluto here?" Tipler continued quickly, goaded by an indignant perception of the conspiracy surrounding him. "We don't even know what the "sealed rooms" as you call them are holding–there might even be hostile aliens inside, lying dormant until we try something as foolish as what you're suggesting. And since the ship crashed, do we have any guarantee it still flies? That the weapons function, that we wouldn't blow ourselves to pieces trying to figure it all out?"

Tipler's face reddened to a beet red, the vein in his neck enlarged and pulsing. Wide sweeping gestures of the arm accompanied the man's speech, ending as he balled his fist and slammed it against the table. For a moment, the council appeared to waver, considering Tipler's diatribe and ready to dismiss Knightwood's ludicrous suggestion.

"That never happened," Knightwood responded calmly, even coyly, her finger on her cheek as she shook her head.

"What?" Kansier suddenly rose in his chair, his face pallid.

"You mean–" Even Secretary Hilbert was able to find his voice in time.

"Actually, once we deactivated the trigger mechanism, the weapons systems were relatively easy to figure out, but until we were able to find the engine room–" Zhdanov began to speak. The tall Ukrainian scientist had been silent throughout the discussion, waiting to play his trump card. There was a flash of triumph in his deep-set, dark brown eyes, beneath his deliberate nonchalance.

"So the ship might fly after all?" Kansier interrupted again.

In no time the meeting digressed into pandemonium as conversations broke out over the room.

Dr. Cheung stood and shouted for quiet. His dark eyes continued to glance around the room once the company was settled down until he was absolutely sure no one would interrupt. Knightwood and Zhdanov had asked him to help maintain control over the situation. Hopefully, their calm, united front would intimidate the council into agreeing with Knightwood's plan.

"We've been learning to operate the controls from the large command center Major Watanabe's Blue Stripes Sky Hawks discovered last spring." Cheung said, glancing briefly at Erin, Erik, and the other Blue Stripes. "A short while ago, we began test firing the engines at minimum power. According to our analysis, we should be able to control what appears to be the main engine.

"True, exactly _how_ the engines work we haven't been able to determine yet–" he conceded, "there is only a limited access room adjacent to the engines, but–according to the energy output, taking her up shouldn't be a problem, and Hollander thinks we'll make a breakthrough on the interior systems soon. So, we're scheduling a test flight a little over three months from now."

"You can't be serious!" Tipler interrupted.

"Deadly serious," Zhdanov said. "And the UESF feels we shouldn't wait too long before bringing the test crews on board so that they can be familiarized with every function. They'll have to re-learn how to fly, with a totally new, alien system. We have figured out enough of the control panels for essential on-board functions, but–these alien devices are nothing like anything we use on Earth. Actually, we'll probably need to bring the crews in by the end of the week. The UESF wants to send the ship out as soon as possible. Arnaud feels that the infiltration team might trigger a counter assault against the Earth." Zhdanov finished.

"But this is–far too dangerous!" Tipler protested once more.

"Yes, it is," Zhdanov agreed, to Tipler's surprise. Tipler found himself speechless. "It is indeed 'a calculated risk', as President Saunders-Hastings called it, before he gave us permission to proceed with our project. But what will happen to us if the Charon aliens manage to take it from us may prove even _more_ dangerous. We cannot risk endangering our entire planet with inaction. Some of us must overcome our fears to do what must be done."

Throughout Zhdanov's argument, Cheung had been reflecting upon lieutenant Mathieson-Blair's unexpected outburst as another stroke of good luck, since it was apparent she had not been bought by either side prior to the meeting. Her views were based on personal experiences and appeared to have done a lot to influence the wavering opinions in their favor. Of course, the UESF council had been overridden in this matter by the United Earth Government, but their cooperation would be necessary in implementing it properly. While Hilbert and Portocarrero had known about the project for months, this was the first time the other councilors had been informed.

"So what are you calling this marvel of yours?" Tipler riveted his gaze on Knightwood, venom in his eyes though his face cracked a sly smile.

"It will be named in honor of the first manned Earth ship to circumnavigate the solar system," Knightwood answered. Her subtle history test had Tipler feigning interest in those around him; he hated to admit that he had no idea what ship they were referring to. Knightwood chuckled to herself but pretended not to notice his sudden reticence. Knightwood's old friend, the stoic-faced Elena Fabrichnova and the only representative whom Knightwood secretly trusted surely knew the answer–they had been in the same space history class at the Ural Scientific Base. When she didn't answer, Knightwood suspected Elena did not want to spoil her triumph.

"Wasn't that also the first manned ship sent to Neptune?" Major Dimitriev spoke up for the first time. Beside him, Kansier was regarding the UESRC scientific team with a half-smile of approbation.

"Very good, Dimitriev." Kansier said. "Yes, when the ship was created for a manned flight to Neptune it was named the Discovery.

"Anyway, by the time the ship returned, it was still in perfect working order, but the Earth was suffering through The Crisis Years, our second "Dark Ages" as it were, between 2160 and 2612, AD. So the Discovery had outlasted the civilization that created it." Kansier steepled his hands thoughtfully.

"The descendants of the crew were still living in and around the grounded ship where it had landed in the desert when The Crisis Years came to a close, around 2600 AD," he went on. "From their records, we learned a lot about the way the Earth used to be. I remember seeing the remnants of the Discovery in the university's Astronautical Museum when I lived in Greenwich. She was a fine ship, and worthy of respect. I remember thinking, if she could only describe to us all that she had seen, the wonders of space, the changes on Earth during the environmental nightmare..."

"Yes, and may her namesake enjoy as much success," Hilbert finished, anxious to wrap up the meeting and content to leave matters in Knightwood's hands.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes had passed since the end of the Council meeting by the time Scott Dimitriev reached his old quarters on board the Stargazer. All of the flight and bridge crews had departed hours before, leaving dark and empty corridors that echoed every footstep. As the Co-Captain, he had been too busy preparing for the Earth landing to pack up his belongings, or so he wished to believe. The truth was that he had been too preoccupied with thinking to get it done. And though he believed there was no immediate danger, Scott found it difficult to sleep in Central City. The Stargazer offered security, away from the re-built civilian towers just like the ones under which his family had been buried the day the aliens attacked.

The Stargazer was a different life–a much simpler one. Returning to Earth meant dealing with his past and facing the new mission, by far the riskiest of all. Even if it succeeded, nothing would ever be the same again. Things had already changed in the brief time since the Stargazer had landed. She would remain grounded this time, abandoned while attention was focused upon outfitting the alien spaceship. According to Knightwood, the old crews would all be re-assigned to the alien ship Discovery, and perhaps even Kansier and he would be given a new post there, though new orders would not be sent out for three more days. Until then they all had leave to visit their homes and loved ones.

So, Scott had returned to the Stargazer.

He thought how dissatisfying it was that he, like so many other people, grew most attached to something only when he knew he was leaving it behind. He was going to miss the Stargazer, he thought, with an unexpected pang of loyalty towards the smaller, Earth vessel; unexpectedly he felt a spark of admiration for it.

Entering his familiar room, he reached for the manual light switch now that the automatic power had been switched off. How unnatural it seemed that everything here remained untouched when all of the events in his life spiraled beyond his control, when today so much had been altered. Yesterday he had never dreamed flying the alien ship was possible, and he remembered how his former self had gazed about this room unaware of what the future might bring. It seemed different eyes were surveying it now.

But he was tired and dismissed such cryptic thoughts. He combed his fingers through his short hair as if it would clear his mind. He would have to be up early to meet with Kansier and the UESRC scientists to discuss the council meeting and further developments. Unfortunately, remembering the meeting reminded him of Erin.

He had been struggling to put her out of his mind for at least the last three months, but the endeavor was futile and only half-hearted. How many times he had wished he might take back those cruel words he had attacked her with just before the mission. As Co-Captain he had seen her every day since then, had been obliged to speak to her as though no illicit words had ever passed between them, as though he didn't know how she had once felt about him. He doubted she ever would ever be able to love him again after what he had said. Yet if by some miracle she did, he wouldn't feel he deserved it.

It didn't help that she was so damned understanding! Despite his cruelty to her, Erin had never been anything but perfectly civil in the past three months; he often wondered how he would have managed in her position, having to face the one who had rejected him day by day. What bothered him most, though he perfectly understood the reason for it, was that she had thereafter seemed unaffected by his presence or anything he said. At least, there was no longer any affection in her eyes, or in her voice.

He had learned so much about her in the past six months. Excellence and achievement were important to her, yet she did all without expectation of reward or praise and frequently with anonymity. She offered her opinion when asked and kept silent when it was not wanted. She kept fiercely to her beliefs, once formed. Still she did not judge. She did not attempt to change others. Hers was a forgiving heart, though it had to be keenly aware of the wrongs it had endured. He had decided that her heart chose to forgive. Could it one day forgive him? He often wondered. He hoped so; he saw that she would not let revenge poison her, nor regrets for things she could not have prevented.

He had to admit that he regarded her as a kindred creature.

He could not help but respect her.

He felt ashamed to have hurt her so much.

But it was better this way, better to avoid causing pain to everyone involved. He was engaged to Catherine. He told himself he hardly knew Erin, and Erik loved her. As long as she loved him, Erin had been a danger to Scott's peace of mind. And there was Catherine, his fiancée, whom he had not seen in more than eight months.

That was why he had been so cruel. He had felt obliged to make Erin see that she could never be anything to him.

Conspiring together, his conscience and his real feelings had not stopped torturing him since.

* * * * *

Dr. Zhdanov's office at the UESRC was littered with electronic notebooks displaying files and 3-d holographic insignias when Cheung entered. The man himself was seated at his desk busily sorting them, calling out to the computer to verify his records and update each candidate's present location.

Dr. Sergei Andreyevich Zhdanov was a tall man with a natural born grace and a purposeful stride, short, curling brown hair the color of dry autumn leaves, and deep-set, pensive, dark brown eyes. His features were Slavic, and modestly handsome: the slightly flat nose with an uptilt, wide-set cheekbones, the heart-shaped face with jaws that came to an abrupt point and small, lobeless ears that lay relatively flat against his skull. His expression was intelligent, composed, competent, but somewhat unapproachable but for moments when he smiled. On the whole, Zhdanov was considered a fair-minded, good sort of man.

"Selecting squadrons I see?" Cheung forced a laugh.

Zhdanov looked up in surprise as though he had not heard the other man enter.

"Dr. Cheung," he said, pushing back his chair, and rose to his feet. The two had become quite good friends over the years and were on a first name basis, but addressed each other formally when speaking in an official capacity. "Please, come in and take a seat." Cheung nodded, and Zhdanov waited politely until Cheung was sitting down before continuing. "How about you, have you and Dr. Santiago made your selections?"

"Just finished." Cheung nodded. "I spoke with Santiago this morning and we've got last year's Cirii squadron in from Saturn and this year's Brun team. Also, Dr. Leonhardt will be arriving from the Rhein Physics Academy this afternoon in the East Astroport. He's going to examine the gyroscope and gyrostabilizers with Kansier today." "Yes, yes," Zhdanov agreed, remembering. There was a strange tension between them today, as though both forced themselves to go through the motions, as though both were evading bringing their true fears out into the open.

"Oh, and Dr. Hanashiro from the Okinawa Physics Academy is on her way back." Cheung continued. "She presented her report yesterday and is bringing the Yokohama Base's top two squadrons with her. She says the teams are confused about what's going on, though."

"Knightwood suggested using this year's Blue Stripes Sky Hawks Squadron," Zhdanov shook his head. "But they suffered 40% casualties out at Charon." He said it evenly, impartially, but Zhdanov remembered every one of those 40%.

"How about augmenting them with the rest of Arnaud's infiltration unit?" Cheung suggested. "Pull them out of their previous squadrons."

"Yes, that's exactly what we were going to do." Zhdanov shrugged. "They've already taken great risks, more than we had a right to ask for."

"So, give them a choice," Cheung suggested, in a fair-minded manner.

"But we need to keep our plan a secret–if any of them refuse to go–"

"Well then, we'll assign them duty here for a while, until the word is out."

"Yes, that's a good idea." Zhdanov agreed, brightening.

"So," Cheung said, slapping his hands together, "have you heard when Knightwood is coming in from Central City?"

"She'll be here tomorrow." Zhdanov said, nodding. "She's meeting Kansier and Dr. Demarque tomorrow evening. In fact, the entire crew of the Stargazer will depart with her early tomorrow morning. The new squadrons will be arriving as well."

"'New squadrons'?" Cheung echoed, intrigued.

"Yes." Zhdanov said, gesturing to the electronic notebook files on his desk. "The top two hundred Earth Bases, the Moon Base, the Mars Academy, and the Titan Defense Base are sending one or two pilots each to be trained for the special mission. Oh, and I forgot," he added, slapping the side of his head. "Space Station Gabriel is sending down their top pilot Behrman today, and the undersea Pacific Institute already sent Mason, their best. Some of the spaceships have already sent home their selections, but the shuttles won't be arriving for a few more days. Anyway, we'll be able to form several new squadrons out of the arrivals."

"They'll all receive new uniforms and ranks, I hear." Cheung said, then coughed. "Otherwise I imagine it would be difficult to recognize members of the same team–if they're all wearing something different."

"Dawe has already got the new uniforms ready." Zhdanov laced his fingers together, thumbs tucked under his chin, and tapped his hands against his lips.

"So soon?" Cheung said in surprise. "I do agree with the idea, though." Cheung nodded. "Though I must admit at first I found it rather odd. The Discovery should have its own uniform, and what could be better than replicating the uniform of her native crew?"

"Well, it's not an exact replica, I'm afraid." Zhdanov sighed, evidently disappointed. "The UESF couldn't recreate the function of the boots, but we did manage the pressure systems. And our new diamondfiber and carbon-sixty materials are inferior to the alien creations, but they'll just have to do."

"Say, what happened to all of the personal effects we discovered while clearing out the rooms for the crew?" Cheung asked a moment later, his eyebrows furrowing. "When I left for the Ural Base, Knightwood said you were going to store it here in one of the cargo bays. Did you decide what to do with it all?"

Zhdanov shook his head. "When we took inventory, we counted just over four hundred superior quality uniforms of the type the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks found–at least they were of similar design and material, though from what I can guess there must have been three different ranks distinguished by different colors. Most of them were silver-blue like the one we found first, but there were some others that were white or black." Zhdanov swallowed.

"But then we found several others after you left," he continued, "about a hundred or so maroon and grey colored suits of a different material, and several hundred dark blue and gold flightsuits of roughly the same material as the maroon ones but a different design."

"Really?" Cheung said; he hadn't yet heard about the latest discoveries.

"Yes." Zhdanov nodded. "The UESF thinks they must have been the pilots' uniforms, while the others were restricted to officers. Anyway, that was how we were planning to solve the problem of forming new squadrons. We were hoping to use them in time to distinguish the squadrons, putting our own personnel into three main groups, but the replicas aren't finished yet. The latest kinds were a little easier to copy, though they seem to have several of the same functions as the first uniform–except the boots are not as complicated."

"Well, that should be okay, since we couldn't recreate the first pair, anyway." Cheung laughed.

"Exactly." Zhdanov agreed, then coughed to clear his throat. "Knightwood thinks we might use most of the uniforms, preserving a few for further study."

"You sure that's wise–to use them?" Cheung's brows raised with skepticism.

"I am a bit anxious about all of this myself." Zhdanov admitted. "But they've passed inspection. And by God, they fit us! Our aliens weren't so different in size than us, at all."

"What about all of the documents and pictures?" Cheung asked.

"We've finished scanning them, and they'll be returned to the Discovery."

"You're returning them to the ship?" Cheung echoed, with a hint of confusion.

"Yes," Zhdanov replied. "We've created a storage space out of one of the rooms. We're going to set them up for display and allow the new crew a chance to learn about the creatures who created the ship."

"Hmm," Cheung considered the decision, then nodded slowly. "What about the Charon aliens? Isn't a conference about them in the offing?"

"Yes, I don't think we're going to be able to keep them a secret." Zhdanov shook his head. "Some of the pilots have already spread stories. Apparently, some say they caught glimpses of the enemy pilots as their ships blew apart and have identified the creatures as humanoid."

"Well, there have always been stories, ever since the first Charon mission." Cheung said, wondering why everyone had dismissed them until Arnaud's infiltration unit proved them right. "But–returning to the artifacts, has anyone made progress in deciphering the alien script?"

"Dr. Odegaard from the Hellie Base has been working on it, but she hasn't had much success." Zhdanov shrugged, feeling suddenly tired. "Only a few others have even touched it, and I don't blame them. I tried to figure it out myself and spent days sitting here staring at the symbols until I thought I would go blind. Dr. Nishiyama in Yokohama has just started his analysis, but he hasn't spoken to me since last week."

"Any luck in removing the creature specimens yet?" Cheung wondered.

"No. They're grounded solidly, and our best lasers aren't working. Anything else and I'm afraid we'll destroy the specimens inside and not just the casings."

"What a shame." Cheung sighed. "I was hoping for one of those big furry things to keep, you know, the ones with the curved claws."

"Well, there's always room on board for you." Zhdanov said persuasively, a gleam now in his eye. "That way you can examine them as much as you like. Knightwood's insisting we stay on board at all times with the crew in case anything happens–I don't need to tell you _with what._ We don't have enough scientists willing to join them yet."

"Well, I'll consider it but–that place makes me nervous." Cheung shivered, wondering why Zhdanov seemed so unaffected. It wasn't like him at all to be secretive about his feelings among his friends. "I don't like all of those sealed rooms, either–it makes me wonder what things have been buried there, what might _still_ be there. I'm not sure we should be delving into it all, poking our noses into everything."

"Hmmm."

* * * * *

Only a few days after the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks returned home to the UESRC, Arnaud called a meeting of the _Discovery_ candidates in the East Wing Cargo Bay. Nearly three thousand pilots, officers, and scientists filled the area once the fighter planes had been removed to the West Wing.

Erin Mathieson-Blair had been visiting her life-long friend Coline Brasseau-Arnaud when the intercom sounded, calling all of the new arrivals together. Coline lamented that she'd give nearly anything to join them on their mission, but she had only just begun her last year of training. Even if Arnaud was her father, there was nothing she could do to get transferred to the _Discovery._

Erin hugged Coline with fierce affection, grudging the lack of time for a sufficient good-bye. She found it impossible to say all of the things she wished to; words could only fail to convey her unhappiness about these necessary partings. As Erin rushed away, Coline, who was now threatening to become as bold and brash as her father more every day, almost laughed at her friend's unusual sentimentality today. That Erin! She was acting as though they would never see each other again!

In the cargo bay, Erin's squadron was gathering. Thirteen members of Arnaud's infiltration unit had accepted their new positions among the UESRC's Blue Stripes after a short leave; Erin spotted the team near the North Wall and recognized her former squadron leader and friend, Major Watanabe, introducing herself to the new recruits. Although W was no longer their commander, having been assigned a first year team of new Blue Stripes Sky Hawks, she had been invited to the meeting on this, her new squadron's day off-duty.

"Glad to see you made it back," W said to Erin when she had joined them. Erin exchanged glances with Ho-ling and Erik. Each of them knew when W was trying to be cheerful; no doubt the news about the casualties in the recent battle had reached her. As Ho-ling finished making introductions for W, Erin glanced around the room and recognized some of the other squadrons from the Stargazer; one of the pilots saw her and waved.

"So, how are the new Blue Stripes?" Erik asked a moment later, as the infiltration unit and former Blue Stripes made small talk; many of the Blue Stripes knew some of the infiltration unit already, having met them on occasion during the six-month mission to Charon. "Surely none of them are as good as us, though." He laughed.

"Well, let's say no one could replace you, Erik," W responded with her typical jocularity, and the group laughed. "Just try to remember who's in charge now and then." Again there was laughter.

"I will," Erik promised, laughing just as hard as the others.

"It's no wonder," Lieutenant Ricna observed, "that the Blue Stripes made it through the alien ship the first time with a squadron leader like you, Major Watanabe."

W was not accustomed to blushing–false modesty, yes. "Oh, now you've made me blush," she drawled, pretending to be embarrassed by the compliment, and the group laughed again.

At that moment, Dawe, Hollander, and Kaplan appeared on a platform that had been set up just within the closed cargo bay doors.

"Good afternoon and welcome." Sullivan Dawe began, calling for attention, bringing the conversations to a close. He was a stocky, barrel-chested man with a gruff, booming voice and a round face, tough and uncompromising in nature.

"All of you have been drawn here for a mission of the utmost importance, though as yet it has been necessary to keep it secret." Dawe continued. "Now is the time to unveil that secret. I'm sure you are all aware of the most recent battle of the Stargazer out at the Charon front. What many of you may not have heard is that this operation was merely a front which we used to allow a secret infiltration squadron to breach the alien ship and examine it from within."

Whispers started across the room. Erik hated it when the top UESRC officers made announcements like this, causing the squadrons to feel unnecessary anticipation when there was no need to worry.

Ahead, Dawe grew silent, and Orrin Hollander, former Security chief of the UESRC, took over. Hollendar was a tall, regal black man with the features of a long-distance runner even as he approached fifty; Hollendar's mind was even quicker than his body, and his efficient, driven behavior earned him the nickname "the man with a mission". Very little was known among the cadets about his personal character, except that Hollendar's temper was slow to ignite, and that he was fair-minded and reasonable.

"Although they were discovered before they were able to cause any damage within the enemy ship or to the aliens' capabilities," Hollendar began in his gravely voice, "Arnaud's infiltration unit used its superior training and skill to escape the ship and bring us back valuable information and vidigital footage of the interior of the vessel. Armed with this knowledge, the top scientists, officers, and council members of the UESF have devised a new mission, one that might successfully protect the Earth and bring the battle out to Charon for good." Hollander paused significantly while the company waited, not moving a muscle, seeming hardly to breathe.

Captain Roy Kaplan, a dark-haired man with strong features, quick eyes, and a cheerful disposition, stepped forward as Hollendar tried to quiet the emerging whispers; at the moment, his attitude was strikingly serious.

"When the other teams arrive from space, they will all be briefed by Dr. Knightwood, Dr. Zhdanov, and Dr. Cheung, but I expect all of you to help answer their questions as well." Kaplan said, glancing about the assembly. "However, time is short, and we feel it necessary to begin the training of those who are already here. In just a few minutes, we will all be departing in transport shuttles to sector eight, where the new space vessel _Discovery_ awaits its new crew."

Everyone was aware of the significance of sector eight, the site where the alien ship had been discovered intact after being buried under tons of rock.

"Discovery," Ho-ling muttered, staring blankly at the other Blue Stripes. Though their mission guidelines had been presented in a vague and secretive manner, the enormity of it was not lost on anyone.

"They're not planning on using the other ship, are they?" Watanabe could hardly believe what she had heard, and she was not alone.

The stunned company spoke in more subdued and apprehensive tones while they waited for the shuttles to appear. The noise died down to a dull droning when the cargo bay doors were elevated about ten minutes later to bring in the shuttle transports.

One by one the squadrons were loaded on board the shuttles, and finally the Blue Stripes wished Major Watanabe one last good-bye.

### Chapter Three

"Hey, Kusao, what are you doing here?" Erik Ross' voice rang through the crowd. Several shuttles from the UESRC had just landed outside the giant dark navy spaceship _Discovery_. Already a dozen or so other shuttles from the many UESF bases waited outside the entrance to the _Discovery's_ Great Cargo Bay, and several hundred officers from the squadrons had gathered outside the ship in the chill afternoon air.

A few steps away from the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks squadron, at the edge of the crowd, a grey-clad Japanese lieutenant of medium height turned his head in the direction of the approaching voice. Katsuo Kusao was wiry and quick, with bright black eyes. He was charismatic by nature, jovial, intelligent, and something of a prankster, yet he could also become a hothead when pushed to the limits of his patience or on any occasion of injustice, whether reported to him or one that he had personally witnessed.

Not that he was particularly pious, or terribly polite, however; in his own country, he often felt the pressure to be more polite, but he also bridled to act according to his true nature. He was simply far too independent and stubborn to go out of his way to be polite. He was, nevertheless, quite considerate when it most mattered, not merely for propriety's sake, but because he cared about the feelings of others around him. He despised hypocrisy and acted according to the impulses that moved him from moment to moment; he tended to be unconditionally loyal, even when loyalty to a guilty party might get him into trouble. He was, however, used to getting himself out of trouble–since he had managed often enough to find trouble on his own.

"Good to see you again, Ross," Kusao laughed, extending a hand to Erik, and the two shook hands. The two had become friends in the three months returning from space aboard the Stargazer, but had gone their separate ways after the debriefing and during their short leave. "Where are the others?"

"Over there," Erik motioned over his shoulder, where the Blue Stripe Sky Hawk squadron was disembarking from their shuttle. "Come on, this'll be some reunion." Erik laughed and clapped Kusao on the back, then led him to the grounded shuttle where the Blue Stripes, including the new additions from Arnaud's infiltration unit, waited.

"So, when did you all meet up?" Kusao asked.

"The rest of our old team arrived at the UESRC a few days ago after our leave ended. When I saw you at the last debriefing, I thought you were going to join the Blue Stripes. You're the only one who disappeared." Erik shrugged.

"I know." Kusao admitted. "The UESRC suddenly transferred me to the Nezumiiro squadron from Yokohama. I thought I was being sent home for good, but–it turned out the Nezumiiro squadron had been chosen for duty on the _Discovery_. They told me the team requested a liaison from the infiltration unit, so that was why I was transferred."

"Kusao!" Grayson exclaimed as he and Erik joined the group.

"Where've you been?" Ricna huffed, folding arms across her chest.

"Well, you know how these things are," Kusao shrugged. "But I thought about you all the time," he said, laughing.

"Sure you did," Ricna rejoined sarcastically, but her tone was affectionate.

"I knew you wouldn't be left behind," Charbonneau added, slapping Kusao on the back.

"Well, that's more than I knew for a while there," Kusao returned, only a hint of a Japanese accent coming through in his English.

"It's good to see you again, Kusao."

"I'd recognize that voice anywhere," Kusao said, turning around halfway to where Erin stood. "Hello, my little nightingale," he laughed, bowing slightly.

"Nightingale?" Erin asked, confused, little wrinkles forming between her eyes. Kusao nodded, smiling, then mussed the top of her hair.

"Can't think of a name that suits you more. Every time I hear your voice, it reminds me of singing." Kusao said. "I missed you, too, Erin."

"Good bloody grief." Erik said, only half in jest, while the others moved on to other conversations; Erik was aware that Kusao's undeniable charm had more to do with his manner than his choice of words. Kusao could be talking about obtuse weather patterns or the migration of bird species, and people would still pay attention to him. Erik had never before met another man so much like himself, so naturally able to charm others, and so of course petty jealousy reared its head on occasion, their friendship notwithstanding.

"You don't agree with me?" Kusao challenged, with equal mirth.

"Kusao–" Erin began to protest.

"There you see." Kusao declared, as though that single musical word were proof enough.

"I didn't say I didn't agree with you," Erik responded. "Only I take exception to the claim you made. Who ever said Erin was yours?"

"Oh," a collective, aghast murmur hummed around them.

"I think the air just dropped a few degrees around here," Einar whispered behind them, laughing among the former Blue Stripes, perfectly aware that neither Erik nor Kusao were really serious, or at least they were only about halfway.

"I'm not cold," Nikolai said, shaking his head in disagreement.

"Of course you wouldn't be cold," Hans agreed. "But then, coming from Siberia–"

"I'm from Rostov-on-Don, not Siberia–" Nikolai began to protest when suddenly one of the UESRC scientists called the group to silence.

"Looks like this party is about to start," Kusao whispered into Erin's ear.

Just inside the inner air lock door, Knightwood greeted the teams, her face betraying her excitement. Erik looked from one person to another as the team entered. He saw the amazement on their faces as they boarded the Discovery and remembered the fear and awe he and the other Blue Stripes Sky Hawks had felt several months earlier when they were the first to enter the abandoned ship.

"Hey, where are we going?" Lieutenant Grayson whispered as the procession continued further into the Great Cargo Bay.

"Forget that." Lieutenant Dayton said, straining to see ahead through the crowd. "I want to know what's in this place," he looked towards the remainder of W's old squadron, then to Erik and Erin.

"Be patient. If we're going to live here, we should find out soon," Erik started to say.

"What's going on now?" Charbonneau said as Knightwood called the teams to a halt. Knightwood's voice suddenly interrupted the whispers, booming over the Earth-installed intercom system.

"Welcome to the Discovery. This is the Great Bay, and if you take a look around, you will see many of the fighters left here by the original crew. In a few moments we will be continuing, but I'd like to take a moment to explain what is expected of you in the next few months.

"As the new crew of the Discovery, you should try to learn as much about the Discovery's original crew and culture as possible, and how the ship functions on a grand scale and down to the simplest control panels. When your ship-board duties have ended, you may use your free time to study the artifacts and biological specimens stored in the other cargo bays and in our on-board museum.

"If you could take a moment to study the undeciphered alien symbols in our museum, any suggestions about recognizable patterns that might be a breakthrough to discovering the Discovery's systems' language would be appreciated. You might as well know that our computer code-breakers have yet to decipher the script, so we are in many ways going to be flying in the dark, so to speak. The UESF hoped to figure out the strange alien writing by now, but I'm afraid our cryptographers have made little progress with it.

"Now, I realize there are many passages within the ship open to traffic–this thing seems even bigger on the inside, if that's possible." Knightwood shook her head. "But you'll need to learn your way around, and the sooner you do will be to your advantage." Knightwood paused and gestured the groups forward, past a team of technicians working on a UESRC shuttle that had been brought into the Great Bay. Beyond the shuttle, the group finally saw the rows of alien fighters the Blue Stripes remembered, a strange mix of sleek plates and organic-looking infrastructure.

Erik watched as the Great Bay full of fighter planes drew mutterings of amazement from the crews; the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks heard one of the new pilots ask a technician how much energy it took to keep the place lit up, but the technicians working on the shuttle told him they didn't know. All they knew was that the Great Bay had been illuminated since they arrived, and its lighting system could not be deactivated. But since the energy source did not tap into the Earth-made energy systems, no one was concerned about the energy cost, and the scientists were too preoccupied with other concerns to give it any attention yet.

The new additions to the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks began asking if they would have to learn to fly these alien fighters, as if they expected the other Blue Stripes had been privy to every new development. However, Knightwood quieted all of the questions, telling the assembly that although they were working on figuring out how to operate the machines, they were unable to use them yet.

To Kusao's mind, the old Blue Stripes Sky Hawks grew strangely silent as they passed the fighters. Erik winked at Einar Suffield-Andersen and jerked his chin towards the alien planes. Nathalie looked up, confused by his gesture, then broke into a wide grin, remembering that Einar had been the first to discover them.

But suddenly Nathalie's face grew somber as she recalled Katrin. Looking up at the ceiling, Katrin had walked behind Nathalie that day in April. Nathalie suppressed a desire to turn around, as though if she remained still Katrin would come up behind her again. But it was Ho-ling who stepped forward and laid a hand on Nathalie's shoulder.

Ahead, Knightwood instructed the team to keep to the left as they turned a corner onto a moving passage.

"Hey Erik, you didn't say anything about moving floors," lieutenant Grayson scolded, wagging an admonishing finger at him.

"I didn't know there were any moving corridors," Erik protested. "They weren't working before, believe me. It took us eight hours to get through this place before," he added, throwing up his hands.

As they walked on the rapidly moving strip of floor, the group turned their heads left and right to regard the doorways that whisked by, long shadowed corridors that amplified every sound, turning voices into soft, reverberating echoes. After passing into a large elevation shaft which took them up almost to the top of the ship, the team passed down another corridor and finally arrived near the quarters where the Blue Stripes had found the picture and documents on their first visit. As the group turned left again, they were able to step off the moving floor and into a long stationary area.

At the end of this corridor, Zhdanov, Cheung, Kansier, and several others waited to introduce the squadrons to their new quarters. Erin recognized Major Dimitriev talking to one of the scientists, a pretty young woman whose blond hair had been tied up into a loose twist with a hair clip. The group of scientists turned towards the new arrivals, but it was Zhdanov who stepped forward to welcome them.

Zhdanov explained that the recon teams had discovered a little over two thousand open suites in the surrounding section, some of them with two or more rooms attached to a central area and sanitary station facility. The plan was to give the larger quarters to married officers and families with children, and some areas had already been reserved for scientists and their families, maintenance crews, and experienced officers arriving from space in the coming week.

In order to make room for the large crew, anywhere from three to seven members of each squadron would have to share each quarters, as they had at the UESRC, Ural Base, and the other training bases.

Cheung then informed the new crew that they would be receiving one of the three different _Discovery_ uniforms that had been created. The squadrons knew that the old teams had been re-combined, but they still did not know into which team they had been placed. Cheung explained that each member would find their new identification number and rank code emblazoned upon the epaulettes and chestplate. The new uniforms had already been sent to the new quarters.

After a moment, Zhdanov and his ten colleagues divided the company into three smaller groups to take them through the maze of corridors in the ship to find their new quarters assignments. Most of the teams realized the divisions had been made according to the new squadron list, but shouts dividing the "blue team", "gold team", and "maroon team" meant nothing to them yet.

The Blue Stripes Sky Hawks were gathered with the other members of the Blue team taken from the Ural Base's new Kracivii and last year's Cirii team, Yokohama's grey-clad Nezumiiro unit, Ruhestadt's Weisse-Grun team, Liberty Statue City's Orange Stripes, and several other teams, as well about a hundred individuals chosen from the various bases of Earth.

"So that's what they were up to," Kusao directed at Erik as Captain Hermosillo directed them down a nearby corridor, the second narrow passage on the left side of the main corridor. "Looks like my team's going to be in the same new squadron as all of you."

As the team received their new room assignments, the group began to thin out. Erin heard Hermasillo call her name, then Ho-ling Chen's as one of Erin's roommates. The other three were unfamiliar: Lieutenant Jianming Zhang from the Hong Kong Astrophysics Academy, lieutenant Nariko Inoue, one of the Nezumiiro pilots Kusao said had just returned to Yokohama from a year around Titan, and lieutenant Nicole Lenoir from the Marseilles Academy.

Moments later Nathalie Quinn was assigned to a room three doors down with Amina Johnson from the Blue Stripes, lieutenant Sagara Vohra from the Caspian Sea Security Base, and lieutenant Jeanne Drouillard from the North European Science Center.

When the corridor ended ahead, the remaining few followed Hermasillo up the other side.

"Room B314 Ross, Garrick, Kusao." Hermasillo said once they continued back the other side of the corridor.

"Hey, Ross, I'm taking the sleep panel by the wall," Kusao said as they entered the room.

"Okay."

"You don't snore, do you?"

"No complaints yet," Erik said, looking around. Several Earth-created sleep panels had been installed, but there was one alien sleeping panel in the room, hidden in the wall but accessible through an access strip on the wall with several light panels. The squadrons had been asked not to use the originals; rumor had it that in some of them a clear, elliptical dome descended over the sleeper, and circulated a not-quite human atmosphere within it. Even the most adventurous were too afraid of suffocation to use the alien sleep panels or chambers; others were too afraid of being caught inside the impermeable dome without knowing how to deactivate it to tamper with the panel.

"Which sleep panel do you want?" Erik asked Garrick.

"It doesn't matter to me," Garrick said, shrugging. "I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight." He gave a nervous laugh, gazing about the room as if half-expecting something to pop out at him. Though it had been stripped of alien artifacts, it was still undeniably alien in nature; Erik forgot that the others had not seen the interior of the ship before. There was a computer terminal on the wall, an intimidating array of light panels and controls no one knew how to operate yet, and alien symbols all over the place, on nearly every access panel. On some of them–as in the water closet–Erik saw that new labels in several different Earth languages had been superimposed onto the alien symbols, as if in that simple gesture, the new occupants could assert control over the old.

Erik shrugged away his fears and started unpacking, then stopped, staring at the pile of new uniforms that had been left on his sleeping panel.

He picked one up and handed it to Kusao, then found his own underneath Garrick's. Little had been amended from the alien script on the shoulders and chestplates; additional insignias in familiar roman letters had been added for each enlisted officer. A moment later, he had pulled on the new hallmark of their enlarged team, a uniform of alien design, pale blue with a script of distorted triangles and swirls.

_Should we be using this, even if we can?_ he wondered, but he knew there was little point in questioning. What could he do, anyway? Nothing, he knew, but follow his orders.

* * * * *

Over the next few weeks, various members of the squadron held gatherings in the hours after training, in which the teams related their experiences and attempted to get to know each other. Stories circulated of two Discovery candidates who had gone missing; for a while, the squadrons thought they had been abducted by creatures on board, but it turned out later that they had returned to the UESRC without permission and been discharged from the mission. Both faced three years of solitary for going AWOL, but in the end received a lighter punishment after psychological evaluation, as if the UESF realized that this case was special.

Of course, it was asking a lot of the squadrons to live inside the alien spaceship, but the two discharged candidates were sentenced to solitary confinement until the _Discovery_ launched, in order to keep word of the ship's existence from leaking through to the general population.

After the rumors about the two former candidates died down, the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks found themselves continually questioned each evening to retell their stories, for they had become famous as the first team to enter the alien ship. Arnaud's fourteen present infiltration team members were equally if not more highly regarded as a source of information; Erik and Erin told their stories time and time again as new people dropped in on the nightly meetings and wanted to hear everything from the beginning.

A few evenings Erin found herself dragged into another discussion when she would have gone off to explore the ship; sometimes her old friends from the Blue Stripes were in on it and had been sent to seek her out. Though Knightwood had reminded everyone that those who made the best progress learning the alien ship's functions would become candidates for the primary teams among each squadron, the nightly conversations diminished the competitive atmosphere among the crew.

Once the Blue team knew each other by sight if not by name, some began to wander over to the Maroon team's quarters nearby. Gradually, members of the Gold team as well as the nearby Maroon team members found their way to the Blue team parties, and the atmosphere turned celebratory for those who had never known such festivity before.

Knightwood and the other high-ranking officers and scientists did not mind the revelry going on; in fact, they had encouraged it, sometimes even dropping in on one of the nightly events. It was a good way to relieve fears and nerves, but also as the teams became friendly, each day their drill performance improved.

And Zhdanov and Knightwood demanded 100% and then some from everyone during training hours. The teams spent ten hours a day training in simulators devised from the actual positions in the command center; some days the squadrons were divided and allowed to test real disaster scenarios on deactivated consoles.

In the afternoons, most of the new crew had found time to wander back down the highly-trafficked corridors to the cargo bay housing the bizarre alien artifacts; many formed groups to explore unfamiliar corridors into areas where only a few security sentries appeared at intervals. The sentries informed the trainees to return to the corridors and rooms accessible to them; they should not be wasting time searching among the dead-end, still sealed areas.

The only problem was that none of the Discovery's new officers were listening.

* * * * *

"Ha, so the old coot finally deigns to reply," Knightwood laughed aloud as she sat down in her quarters, but not without affection.

The famous Earth scientist Dr. Cameron had taken a month to respond to the video report she had sent him after the council's meeting. In it she had asked him if he would return to active duty and help examine the alien ship. At the time, the UESF had been confident that they would be able to activate the ship's engines after several successful test firings; however, there had been a few hicc-ups in testing the generators at full power, and Cheung suspected one of the closed areas around the main engine room might hold a key to generating the necessary engine power that fueled the anti-gravity device.

At the end of a long day spent among the Maroon team in the simulators, Knightwood had returned to her quarters to find a hand-written message delivered to her by courier from her former colleague. The note reminded her that there was still a problem operating the communications console for transmissions outside the ship; but the present matter called her attention.

Dear Knightwood,

I regret that I will not be able to make the party. My research here on the superior resiliency of the new Talex artificial ligaments is just getting to the point where leaving would be quite impossible. I'm afraid the Health Committee out here has asked for a personal presentation. Anyway, we both know there is little point in my getting involved in the UESF tangle again, and semi-retired life suits me well. You must remember that poking around our hot little ship was always less exciting for me than you and Zhdanov. I don't need to study alien baubles to quell my sense of curiosity. You mentioned that the Blue Stripes were to be a part of the new Discovery crew. If things have worked out, could you please keep an eye on lieutenant Mathieson-Blair for me? If she has any difficulties adjusting, please inform me right away. In that case, I suppose a day or two away from my responsibilities could be arranged. Perhaps it may seem foolish of me, but I have grown quite fond of the girl.

Your Friend,

Alastair Cameron

P.S. When are the two of you going to get married? I've been expecting the wedding announcements for too long, and an old man gets impatient with waiting.

Knightwood blushed as she read the last remark; It was true she and Zhdanov loved each other–at least she knew she loved Zhdanov and she sensed he felt the same–but she had thought that this was still a secret between them. Now she wondered how obvious they were to everyone else.

As for Cameron's professed fondness for the Mathieson-Blair girl, well that was no secret. For years he had treated her strange childhood illness, and from what she had heard, the young woman's parents were still welcome for visits and had maintained close contact with the old scientist. Knightwood did not consider it unusual that he would wish to see her if she had difficulty adjusting to life on board the Discovery; she often worried that the young woman's early childhood memories of the ship's crash could resurface and cause her post-traumatic stress.

Yet Knightwood had often wondered why Cameron had become so possessive in the matter of her treatment. He had sacrificed every engagement to personally oversee Erin's annual physicals. And long ago he had refused to allow either Knightwood or Zhdanov to review her case. Knightwood had dismissed it then, assuming that Mathieson and Blair had asked that the case remain private in order to give Erin as normal a life as possible.

Yet what of that now? Knightwood didn't want to have to leave Erin behind if the girl did have difficulties. She remembered the hypothesis which she had formed during that first expedition into the ship that somehow something on board the _Discovery_ , perhaps some lingering alien presence, had made contact with the girl. Though that seemed unbelievable to her rational mind, she had still selected the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks for transfer to the alien ship.

* * * * *

Erin had been the last of her group to finish studying the far-off cargo hold before the end of training hours. As she emerged into the corridor, a friendly sentry informed her that her friends had gone back to their quarters and motioned his thumb off to the right passage.

The hallways here had not been activated for quick motion; no one had as yet discovered where the mechanism switch had been hidden. The walk back was more than a mile, down dark tunnels lit only by occasional floor lamps and the bright helmets of the sentries.

Erin wished she had not taken so long. She hated to be left alone, for it was during quiet moments that her irrational fears surfaced. She had begun to detest the solitude aboard the vessel, away from the warm, comforting light of the Earth outside, and she longed for the happier days at the UESRC, so close by.

As she drew closer to the inhabited areas near the Command Center, her feet ground to a halt, and on her left side she became aware of a small screen, overlaid with lit panels and buttons, not unlike hundreds of others distributed down the many passages she had traveled.

For weeks she had been thinking about the inside of the Charon ship, comparing it to the interior of _Discovery_ , and with the recollection came all of the strange perceptions of the alien inquisitor which she had sensed during the interrogation of Jason Donnelley. Now, she sensed another, similar presence, here in the _Discovery_ itself.

Then, as she stood by the panel, she felt as though the presence in her mind greedily encouraged her to remember the other, to put a face to the being she had sensed that day back near Pluto. As she regarded the wallscreen, the thought occurred to her that the screen was a kind of terminal linking the ship; the force behind it barely understood the strange Earth words in her head, but her feelings required no translation.

She shook off the idea that she herself was the force powering the mindlink which it had longed for, that only once invited could it scan her thoughts. The force seized upon her memories of the Charon ship, and she began to panic. Instinctively, she tore herself away from the terminal and ran down the hall, unaware that Dr. Knightwood had been watching her from the shadows of the Command Center passage.

* * * * *

Major Dimitriev realized he was not going to win the argument, but he refused to leave it alone.

"Are you sure you've cleared it with Knightwood, Zhdanov, someone?" he asked again stubbornly.

"I already told you I've got orders to clear this area out. We need the extra living space for the new squadrons." The sentry, lieutenant Andrew MacLean, vacillated, seeing the Major's point. He had felt the same way at first, but he had to obey orders. He couldn't afford the luxury of reservations like this superior officer. "I know it's a terrible thing to have to do, but the soil and materials have already been tested, and they'll be moved to the cargo bay with all of the other stuff scheduled for compact storage."

Scott had been in the Command Center when Knightwood and Kansier were discussing where to find extra living space, and they had chosen a few of the empty or near-empty holds surrounding the crew quarters, to keep the squadrons together. However, even with the relocation of part of the crew, the rooms reserved for squadron members remained overcrowded. Dimitriev had suggested using the rooms reserved for the technician crews that had not arrived yet, but it was true that once the maintenance personnel were brought on board, the squadrons would just have to move again. And giving up his own quarters could not save the hold.

Still Scott hated to see the restructuring crews demolish what appeared to have been a kind of playground for the alien children. Some of the soil had already been removed to be analyzed, but the rest had been untouched for who knew how long. What right did they have to do this? he wondered, watching the destruction, moved by the sight even though he knew it had nothing to do with him.

* * * * *

Five weeks before the scheduled test flight, the main engine power almost miraculously ignited during one of the technician's firing attempts. Zhdanov, Knightwood, and Cheung had been biting their nails over the engine problems for weeks. It would have been an embarrassment if after all this effort, they had to dismiss the _Discovery_ crews and abandon the plan.

Then, while the scientists slept, their problem had solved itself. Zhdanov had bumped his head running into a wall as he fumbled in the dark looking for his labcoat. Without mercy the alarm continued to blare in his ears; finally, he reached his communicator and patched in to the sentries, who directed him to lieutenant DiGiacomo just outside the main engine room.

Minutes later, the entire scientific team had gathered around the _Discovery's_ activated engines, staring mutely up at the scintillating metal sphere visible above the large tunnel upon which they stood. The tunnel spanned the length of the ship, where the engines' power escaped the ship, driving it forward. They stood in a small, atmosphere controlled chamber enclosed by clear walls made of a completely synthetic material not unlike dense plastic in its chemical structure but extremely shock-resistant and completely shatterproof.

Another layer of a thicker, clear substance lay on the other side, its chemical composition not precisely determined, though scans reported crystalloid structure. Only the small room separated the assembled company from the vacuum of space surrounding the engines; only a small room next to the engines gained them access to such a view.

"Looks like there are several different engine systems adjacent to each other," one of the engineers, Collin Gellar, explained. "We think they may somehow feed on each other's energies–at least some of them seem to. That might be why we couldn't get the main engines started–perhaps they had to wait for other energies to ignite, and the test firings we made before could have relied upon energy reserves. Then again, maybe the ship was grounded so long that the engines just needed time to warm up. 'Don't really know the answer. Anyway, what we're seeing over there, that long tube, not the sphere–we've confirmed that thing is a tachyon engine–yes you heard correctly. We've been measuring output for weeks. Can't believe it myself," the engineer added, shaking his head.

"That over there," he pointed to a great, squat cylinder linked to the tachyon engine, "is a fusion generator–we're sure of that. Now ask me what that metallic sphere is up there–I have no idea. It seems integral to the tachyon engine, and there is a platform up there inside the clear contained area, so I imagine there is a way to get to it from somewhere else inside this ship, but of course..." The engineer, Gellar's voice trailed off. He did not need to explain. Everyone understood that the corridor to the room up above was buried in one of the sealed sections.

* * * * *

The scientists were dubious about the sudden and undeserved success in the engine room but were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knightwood hoped that the ship was merely programmed to respond to the presence of inhabitants and that its previous dormancy had been the result of abandonment.

As the deadline of take-off approached, Kansier and Zhdanov made the primary team selections. Each member of the crew had been re-trained to operate the alien controls of _Discovery_ in the field to which they were already accustomed on Earth ships, and so former navigators were considered first as candidates for navigators and pilots.

The technicians claimed that the entire ship could have been controlled using only the primary stations on the bridge, but the understanding of the ship's functions required for the primary position would then be greater than the Earth teams could possibly learn in such a short time.

They had already taken too much time ensuring that every member of the crew had been familiarized with each position on the ship. There had been an uneven number of trained technicians for each position owing to the worldwide selections, so those who had excelled at one post more than another were reassigned that position as their primary station. With the additions from space, the full crew list numbered over three thousand, yet the primary and secondary crews were each limited to one hundred and twenty-five for all of the seats on the bridge.

A week before take-off, Erin, Ho-ling, Nathalie, and their roommates were talking in Erin and Ho-ling's room when a sentry arrived with a large package for lieutenant Mathieson-Blair. A read-out had been affixed to the top of the box, welcoming Erin as the third seat navigator of the primary bridge crew. The others urged her to open the box, and Erin pulled out a shiny silvery-blue uniform with dark boots wrapped underneath.

"Not that that thing isn't absolutely brilliant," Jianming said enviously, shaking her head. "But why did they send you another uniform? It's almost exactly like the one we've already got."

Yet, unlike the other similar uniforms, the silvery-blue garment Erin held had been embellished with tiny triangular and elliptical panels about the shoulders and down the sides that reflected the light in luminescent blues and greens, creating a wave-like illusion of motion as she turned it in the light.

Jianming found herself looking forward to seeing people wear them. They'd probably create an interesting optical effect if seen from a distance.

"This looks exactly like that one we found near the entrance to the ship," Nathalie spread the uniform out on a lounge sofa and rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger. Alien script still appeared on the chestplate, to which a small badge had been added that read "First Lieutenant Erin Mathieson-Blair, third navigator".

"You know what?!" Ho-ling exclaimed. "I'll bet this really _is_ one of the alien uniforms and not a replica." She shivered, dropping the edge of the garment as if it could contaminate her. "I don't think they should be using the alien suits," she said. "Wonder why they think it's necessary?" she wondered. "Our replicas should be good enough."

"No answer here," said Erin. "I guess they thought they had to do something with them, anyway, might as well use them."

"Hmmm, I wouldn't."

* * * * *

The next morning, when Erin reported for duty on the bridge of the Command Center, conversations on the subject of the new uniforms were already in progress. Someone to her left was explaining how the orders had arrived from Secretary Hilbert that the original alien uniforms be distributed among the scientists permanently assigned on board the _Discovery_ and then to the primary and secondary bridge crews to distinguish them from the rest of the crew.

Erin headed towards the navigator section where two of ten were already seated. Then she felt her gut clench as she recognized the features of Major Scott Dimitriev behind the fifth position.

"Hello," she offered. Scott turned around and gave her a smile. Before he could ask any questions, she continued, "I didn't know you were being trained as a part of the crew. I thought you'd be flying back there in the command section with Kansier as his Co-Captain."

"Well, no." He said, though the demotion seemed rather to please him than to cause any resentment in him. "They haven't designated any Co-Captain to my knowledge." He admitted, seeming anything but disappointed. "But I'm not the only officer to have given up his command for the opportunity of joining the _Discovery_ crew. If you look around, you'll see Captain Hanson of the _Palatino_ somewhere around here. And there are others who didn't want to be demoted to regular crew positions. They've been assigned posts as strategy specialists and tactics consultants. They'll be the ones that look like us, but they don't have to be on the bridge. By the way, when did they tell you that Kansier had been selected as the _Discovery_ Captain?" He asked, wondering at how composed she was under the strange set of circumstances.

"I'm not sure." Erin paused. "I guess I just naturally assumed he would be, and so it didn't surprise me when I heard the news."

"Actually, there was a lot of contention around who would be the ship's Captain." Scott laughed. "A lot of other officers wanted the job, but it was eventually agreed that Kansier had the most experience." As he was talking, the fourth bridge navigator appeared and waited for him to finish, then introduced herself as lieutenant Lee.

"Well," Erin said by way of terminating the conversation. "It's nice to see a familiar face around here." As she turned back to her duty station, she pretended to make some minor adjustments, but her mind was on other things.

She was glad Scott had gotten what he wanted and returned to his old position as a navigator, even though it would make it harder for her to be around him so much. She listened as he struck up a similar conversation with the fourth navigator, as the happy chattering around her continued.

As unhappy as it made her to be near him, she had to admit she felt proud of Scott. She could not help but admire him, for his integrity and for so many other things. She admitted she had been wrong about his character in the past, but during the time she had been around him in the last few months, she had seen that he held no stock in empty promises. To Scott, talk was only worthwhile as long as guided action soon followed. He was not Machiavellian, but he did believe in achieving "the ends". She saw that a promise, whether his own or another's, meant little to him unless it was kept. Scott Dimitriev did not pave the road to hell with good intentions.

She had on occasion chanced to hear him acknowledge his own vices and motivations–whether he had confessed in jest or earnest, she did not know. Despite these confessions, she didn't believe him to be malevolent, and although he gave few guaranteed assurances, his unmeditated actions were frequently of a self-sacrificing, noble nature.

"Erin, you've checked your console ten times already." Scott's voice interrupted her.

"Have I? Well you never can be too sure," she responded, refocusing her concentration.

_Good Lord!_ she thought. _We're going to fly an alien spaceship!_ With a glance about the room, she saw that the others were just as apprehensive as she was, and underneath their outward composure–just as exhilarated by the thought as she was.

* * * * *

Erin had expected to see Erik Ross and some of the others from the _Stargazer_ crews as bridge navigators, but he and lieutenant Garrick turned up at the change of shifts in the secondary bridge crew. Two of the Blue Stripes she discovered had been in her group far away on her right; the newest member, Kusao, had become an analytical navigation coordinator, and Hans Rheinhardt from the former Blue Stripes Sky Hawks had remained a radar operator.

The rest of the crew had been given time off to further their explorations on board while the bridge crews practiced drills in preparation; Erin returned home late in the evening or early in the morning whenever her shift ended. Quite often the apartment was empty, but a few times she managed to catch the others before they left on a tour and was able to join them for a little while before heading back to catch some sleep.

News arrived during that week that the Charon aliens had launched a small cruiser from Pluto/ Charon air space. The UESF council met as soon as the message from Neptune was received; whether or not the cruiser was a sign that the aliens knew of _Discovery_ or was merely a delayed retaliation in response to Arnaud's infiltration unit, in no time, the systems-testing take-off date of the new _Discovery_ was moved up by several weeks.

Despite the looming threat of the Charon aliens' cruiser, the morning of take-off dawned peacefully, with clear, rose-colored skies outside the ship, but the primary crew already waited at their stations. Some had not been able to sleep for days, others were only now succumbing to anxiety. Kansier sat at the rear of the Command Center where he had been the past four hours. Knightwood and Zhdanov had come in and out, but Cheung had remained seated nearby and the two continued discussing old times until 0600.

Then at last Kansier gave the order to raise the viewport shield, and all eyes watched the first action executed by the new crew on baited breath. As the exterior metal plate rose in an arc above the viewport window, rosy beams brightened the pale air within, and the crescent halo of the sun appeared in the distance barely above the bow of the ship.

"Pilots, take her up," Kansier quietly ordered, and the team complied, carefully implementing their synchronized consoles.

Underneath them the engines started cycling power, sending faint vibrations throughout the ship. The anti-gravity thrusters flared, and the _Discovery_ began to rise, the sun sinking beneath the forward view, replaced by a magenta sky and thready clouds.

Minutes passed; the ship rose higher and the surrounding space darkened into midnight, stark, unwavering white lights all around.

"All right Dimitriev, Mathieson-Blair, Garen, and Bekker–put us in orbit." Kansier's clear voice resounded on the bridge.

Erin and the other navigators responsible for course adjustments set the flight path as in the last drill session. The crew watched in satisfaction as the _Discovery_ sped smoothly around the planet below, completing one revolution in only two and a half minutes. With the simple test run completed, they could now return to the Earth.

"All right now, take us down," Kansier ordered calmly, pleased that everything had gone so well.

"Yes, sir. We'll reach our window in seventy-two seconds." Jens Bekker said. The pilots began at once to prepare for landing. The seconds ticked by, and finally lieutenant Bekker began the ten second countdown. At zero, each of the navigators endeavored to pull the _Discovery_ back down on a vector that would bring them back to sector eight; however it took them only a moment to realize that _the ship wasn't responding!_ "What's going on?" Kansier demanded.

"We've lost control, sir." Lieutenant Navarre updated, a note of panic in his voice. "We'll try again to bring her in." A brief pause ensued, punctuated by the clicking of buttons on the navigational instrument panel. No one on the bridge stirred. "It's no use, sir." He went on, struck by shock. "The ship's not responding to any attempts to pull it into the Earth's atmosphere."

"Can you switch off the engines?" Kansier tried to keep things calm.

"No, sir. I'm trying, but the engines are deadlocked." Navarre said, but he spoke for all of the navigators. None of them were having any luck at all making the ship respond. "Should we contact the engine room and ask them to try cut off power from the source?"

"No, I don't think that will work," Kansier answered slowly, quieting his own sense of the absurd. "In fact, I know it won't." Why had they dared to believe it possible to use this alien ship? he wondered. Still he knew there was nothing to be gained by inaction. "We _can't_ get to the engines–we can't even access the area where the power is coming from."

Some of the crew just stared at him; several suddenly caught their breath.

Erin looked over to where Scott Dimitriev was still trying to gain control of his instruments, adjusting switches in a vain effort to affect the ship's navigational computer. The sight struck a nerve inside her; glaring down at her screen, she cursed their powerlessness.

_I wish I had never heard of this spaceship_!, she thought angrily.

"Damn you, whatever you are!" She cried, kicking the console. "You won't get the best of us!" At the same instant, she felt her mind wrestling the intruder that had suddenly appeared in her consciousness; crushing it in her fury, she pushed past it, allowing the energy that flowed from her mind to reach the mental image she had created of the engine room.

"Dammit, work _, respond_!" She cried.

Then there was silence.

"You won't believe this, sir. The ship's engines are responding now," lieutenant Bekker suddenly announced with a kind of stunned relief, drawing Dimitriev's concerned eyes from Erin; he was glad to see that she was only furious, not panicking. The others stared at her a moment longer, still disturbed and intrigued by her bizarre outburst. Kansier himself chose not to comment on it.

"What's the next window?" Kansier demanded.

"It's the Ural Base, sir." Bekker said.

"Fine then. Take us in as soon as you can." _Before anything else can go wrong_ , he added to himself.

In moments, the ship shifted its course in response to the navigators' adjustments. Finally, they broke through the thick cloudcover of the Earth's atmosphere, the bright afternoon sun vanishing as they descended beneath the clouds to the mountainous terrain that surrounded the Ural Base.

* * * * *

Erin was aware that she had been waking up for quite a while, but she woke suddenly, completely. Disoriented, she looked up at Dr. Knightwood's anxious face, at her furrowed forehead and her eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"Are you all right, Erin? Please answer me." Knightwood asked, and Erin nodded her head weakly, then glanced around at the near-empty Command Center. The three UESRC scientists Cheung, Knightwood, and Zhdanov had remained with her with a few others she didn't recognize, as had Colonel Kansier and Major Dimitriev.

_What's going on?_ Erin thought, confused.

"She'll be all right," Knightwood announced to the others.

"Where is everyone?" Erin asked.

"They've gone back to their quarters to help the new Ural base technicians and scientists bring their things in and get settled." Kansier said, his keen eyes still studying her, as though he wasn't sure that she had fully recovered. "It may take a while, but with their help we hope to repair the bad connection that kept us from controlling the engines."

"The Ural Base technicians?" Erin echoed.

"You must have fainted when we landed," Knightwood explained. "Erin, we've landed at the Ural Base North Astroport. We don't want to stay here long since we're in open view, so Zhdanov sent for the top scientists and technicians here to speed things up. It was an unforeseen necessity, one which I'm afraid will make living arrangements a little tight for a while, especially since they have insisted upon bringing their families inside for protection until we depart, in case that alien cruiser arrives before we can leave. That brings their number up to 1200 or so–considering the very limited amount of open space we can access on this ship, we may even have some rearranging to do.

"But it's true," she added with a smile, waving to Kansier that he could go ahead to the Great Bay without her, "inside the _Discovery_ would be the safest place to be if we're attacked here. In any case, we're going to keep them on board for a while in case we experience similar technical failures in the next test run. Then we'll land at the UESRC and they can return here by transport shuttle."

"What about the Yokohama team?" Cheung asked.

"Oh yes. They'll be here soon. I'm sure you'll be fine, Erin, by the time they arrive. We received a request from the Council to allow about fifty scientists and officers from the Yokohama Base. They want to study some more of the alien language, and they've even volunteered to help in the repairs. And this afternoon we're going to need everyone's help bringing in all of the extra supplies and consignments we'll soon need, so if you're up to it..."

"How long have I been–" Erin began.

"Only half an hour or so, but things have been moving pretty fast." Knightwood answered, thinking about taking a moment to visit the Ural Base's communications room to send a private message to Cameron.

"Perhaps we should consider getting a new third pilot, one that operates better under pressure," Dr. Davis, one of the UESRC scientists suggested off-handedly. Knightwood glared at him, irritated that he would mention that in front of Erin herself; this was not the time to be making such suggestions.

Scott stared at the man, suppressing the sudden desire to punch his lights out. Erin had collapsed after they reached the window to the Ural Base, but she had been operating well up until then. And some of the others who hadn't fainted seemed borderline catatonic when they left!

"Don't worry, Erin," Knightwood whispered. "Kansier's got the final say on who gets transferred, and he listens to my suggestions," she smiled mischievously, then assumed a more authoritative air. "Okay, it's time to get moving."

* * * * *

Once the new crew had finished moving in, the bridge crews, systems operators, and fighter squadrons were given a full day off each week, and their duty hours were temporarily reduced to five hours a day. Many of the younger officers spent some of their new free time pestering the maintenance crews that were always hard at work looking for an elusive misconnection. In time, some of the officers became well-known to the technicians, and exchanged greetings when they encountered each other in the corridors.

Those that befriended the maintenance crews were soon put to hard work by them; sensing that the officers had more time than they, some of the technicians suggested that the pilots perform small tasks for them, retrieving parts they had ordered from the Great Bay where supplies came in, bringing one piece of equipment to another location where the other technicians might need it, and helping in some of the manual labor.

Erin spent one afternoon waiting for a part to be delivered in the Great Bay but was informed that the last one had been given out and that the new ones would take a few days. She wasn't sure where in the ship her new friend Mr. Makarov would be, and so decided to wait in his quarters to give him the bad news. She knew the maintenance crews were given an hour off for dinner, and that the time wasn't too long off.

Erin stood outside the door to his quarters a moment and listened for signs of activity within until she remembered that the walls in the _Discovery_ were completely sound-proof. She could still remember the moment on the bridge when Colonel Kansier had begun shouting down the corridor for the maintenance crews to hurry it up.

They had needed some cables to run a drill, but one of the corridor section barriers had been left up, and Kansier had finally abandoned his bridge crew to collect the things after waiting twenty-three minutes more. Considering the previous communication difficulty, the bridge crew had felt assured he would not hear the broken chorus of snickers that followed his retreat.

The door swished open at a light touch of her fingers, and Erin entered slowly, calling out for Mr. Makarov. All of the doors in the apartment had been left ajar, yet there was still no answer. Figuring he was running a little late, she decided to sit down in the living area and wait for him, when something emerged from the sleep room to greet her. In the quiet, Erin's ears picked out the clacking of four feet dampened by the rug and turned to get a better view of the fluffy grey kitten that had poked its head into the living area.

"Well, hello there," Erin sang out. The cat put a tentative paw forward. "Where is Mr. Makarov, kitty, do you know? Don't be scared. Come here kitty, come on." Erin tried her best sweet voice, but it didn't appear to be working. The kitten had just stopped where it stood and continued to look at her, cocking its head in response but refusing to understand her. Erin wasn't sure what else to do.

She decided to try again, but stopped, looking at the frightened animal.

_Don't fear me_.

Suddenly the kitten tilted its head, then trotted towards her and allowed itself to be picked up.

"See there, now aren't you glad you decided to trust me?" She crooned to the purring animal while she stroked under its chin.

The kitten kept her company for ten or more minutes while Erin waited, and though at first she sat impatiently, it continued to mew happily. Erin kept her eyes on the door half the time, but her friend didn't oblige her with an automatic appearance, so she turned her attention to the kitten again. The most remarkable thing about it, at least anatomically speaking, was the flexible spinal cord she had been stroking.

The repetitive motion of petting the animal in time began to put the creature past contentment and into a kind of trance. Erin wondered what it would be like to be such a creature, with four legs in close pairs separated by that flexible spine; as she gazed at the grey fur, she heard the quick rhythm of its heartbeat.

The repetitive heartbeat seemed to be drawing her towards the creature.

She needed to stretch, and so arched her long back in satisfaction, curling her delicate forepaws fluidly and then stretching back her hind legs. Where to go? She followed where her senses led, without thinking much about it. She braced herself to jump down in perfect balance and landed skillfully upon the bare grey floor. Ahead lay a flat object, and she began to make her way towards it instinctively, her claws ready to scratch to pieces–

"No," Erin shouted in surprise, seated still on a chair in the living area and spotted the kitten that had nearly reached the carpet floor rug. The cat had stopped and looked around at her, its left foreleg temporarily paused but poised to continue. "No," she called out tiredly, feeling her own joints stiff now from prolonged sitting, and she was unable to rise from the chair. "Stop, I said," she continued, but the kitten didn't respond.

Erin felt her thoughts stretching away from her, centering upon the kitten. Her consciousness began to receive external motion commands, feeling the motion of energy and molecules in the nerves and muscles. Then, halting the communication of mind to body, she interrupted the movement and sent out her own stream of thought to the synapses, the space between her consciousness and the cat condensed and meaningless. Opening her eyes, Erin observed the leg frozen in mid-air, the rest of the kitten immobilized by her alien mind's invasion of its body.

Erin quickly let go of the kitten, her heart pounding in fear; the kitten sprang forward, no longer interested in the carpet. It hurried away to the other room. Erin heard her own breathing as though she heard a stranger and not herself. The things she could do when she was on her own she wouldn't allow herself to believe, objects seeming to move within reach when she needed them, glasses never shattering as they fell to the floor, and other strange circumstances; yet she had affected something living this time. Did that mean she would have to believe what she had done this time?

Just then the door swished open; Mr. Makarov came in, whistling a tune.

"Oh ho, Miss Mathieson-Blair," he chuckled at Erin's surprise. "I'm sorry dat I keep you waiting," he apologized and bent down, fingers outstretched to the kitten. "Koldoon, _ka meen-yeh_ ," he said but stopped in concern as he glanced at Erin's face. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked in heavily accented Russian.

"Of course," she said cheerfully, collecting herself. "I'm fine."

### Chapter Four

The morning of the second scheduled test flight of the _Discovery_ , Zhdanov was rushing about his private quarters collecting printouts and information chips. He had been up all night reviewing assessments on each of the temporary Ural Base crew to be presented before the Council in Central City once the _Discovery_ returned to the UESRC and its environs. But he had left the reports until the last minute because other matters had been on his mind.

Zhdanov still wondered what had kept official word from the UESF from being sent. Without their orders, the crew had no scheduled course of action immediately following the second test flight. Zhdanov hoped they would not be long in coming. After the strange loss of helm control during the first test flight, rumors had flown through the ranks of younger officers that the _Discovery_ had its own agenda and a "life of its own". While he found the drama and gossip amusing, Zhdanov was also anxious about the upcoming test run.

After the first test flight, Kansier had given top priority to ensuring that the bridge crew would be able to maintain helm control.

_But even if the flight goes successfully, we don't even know yet whether to remain in orbit around the planet or return to the Earth_ , Zhdanov thought dismally.

Zhdanov shook his head, recalling his surprise when, several days ago, Kansier had confided in Knightwood, Cheung, and Zhdanov. He had told them that before he had even taken on the role of Captain, that the UESF had asked him if he were willing to take a reduced crew comprised largely of scientists out of the solar system, in order to determine if the _Discovery_ was the Charon alien's main interest in the attack on the Earth.

If that proved to be the case, Kansier had volunteered to use the ship as a decoy to draw the aliens away, but he and his crew would remain on board in case the Charon aliens gave up the pursuit in favor of returning to the Earth. At such time, the _Discovery_ would need a manual crew to bring her back to the Earth to defend the planet. How far the chase would last no one yet knew, but Kansier had agreed that if it became necessary, he would leave the Earth behind forever.

Zhdanov wondered how Kansier was taking the uncanny silence from the UESF, but Kansier was certain to know what had caused the delay. No doubt the council was still arguing about what to do.

Before the first failed test flight, some of the council had criticized even the idea of temporarily using the strange alien vessel to house Earth officers, with still more than eighty percent of the enormous ship sealed. But Zhdanov himself had been witness to the council meetings. He and the other UESRC representatives were not alone in their feeling that the Earth's protection lay in the possibility of using the indestructible _Discovery_ , the only ship likely to rival the black monolith out at Charon.

In all the years that the _Discovery_ had been buried on Earth and throughout the extensive reconnaissance explorations of it, there had been no sign of alien activity within it. While no one had ruled out the possibility that possible aliens on board might make their presence known at some time in the future, the crew had been trained to react in that eventuality, but Knightwood had pointed out that if the aliens were truly humanoid, therein lay the possibility of mutual understanding and even cooperation. In any case, the UESF had reluctantly concluded that the risk was justified for the defense of the planet and its future.

This was of course, providing that the Earth crew could figure out the last of the _Discovery's_ complex systems, though the functioning of most of the major operating systems had been determined. Strangely enough, though so much of the ship remained sealed, the Earth crew had access to the bridge and all of its control panels. Only the actual circuitry, the complex interior of the ship, remained closed to investigation, an investigation which would have exposed the innovations of the alien's technology.

Without any knowledge of the actual working technology, the UESF had been forced to scrap any plans of replicating the vessel's design. If they wanted to use the ship, they would have to risk the possibility that an alien threat might be on board, even though bioscans had registered no recognizable signs of higher life forms–and the crew itself had to be willing to accept that risk.

Like some of the other scientists, Zhdanov himself believed that the UESF wanted to outfit the _Discovery_ in order to keep the Charon aliens from reclaiming it. No matter how the war between the races had started, he felt sure the ship would do more harm in the Charon aliens' hands.

Nevertheless, Zhdanov often found himself looking over his shoulder. Who knew what lay within _Discovery_ , just waiting for its chance to get them?

During his last visit to the bridge, Zhdanov had overheard even more speculative rumors about the future mission of _Discovery_. The officers had heard that the entire crew presently on board would lead the ship away immediately following the second test flight. One of them had helped bring two shuttles into one of the smaller cargo bays; the major felt certain that the shuttles had been loaded on board for the crew to jettison and abandon the _Discovery_ if it appeared that the Charon aliens were going to follow it.

Thankfully the larger crew did not seem to be aware of Kansier's orders to remain indefinitely on board.

Still, the material point was that the Earth had nothing to lose by trying to fly _Discovery_. No one knew how much time remained before the Charon aliens decided to destroy the planet. The Charon aliens could destroy the Earth at any given moment, and any option to fight them was a good one, however desperate. Such as using the _Discovery_ against them.

Recently, from what Zhdanov now understood, the Ural Base technicians were closer to understanding the mechanisms of _Discovery's_ defense systems buried under the hull plating. Even better, the external communications console had finally started working yesterday when some of the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks and some of their new friends had wandered into the communication station and volunteered to help the technician hard at work.

Zhdanov had made this discovery yesterday when he decided to take a break from reviewing the material and got up to check up on the progress in the communication station. He had been surprised to find some of the Blue Stripes hard at work. But he had seen no reason to disrupt their concentration and had been about to head to the Command Center to find Cheung when he heard an exclamation behind him.

The assembled company were hugging and celebrating; a faint transmission from the Scandinavian Base had been received, and with an adjustment, was coming in now loud and clear. The technician sent a message to the nearby Ural Base Communications Center, and a reply arrived in only seconds. Zhdanov hurried back to help them with setting up the receivers for the bridge connection.

Erin Mathieson-Blair had remained a moment longer, assuring her friends that she would meet them in the new mess hall for lunch in a few minutes. She spoke with the technician a minute or so until Zhdanov got up to leave. When she had caught up to him outside the station and some ways down the corridor, he had given her a quizzical sidelong glance, but he had not minded her company.

Then she had stared at him with those strange, keen eyes of hers and asked him a question that had kept him awake since and distracted his train of thought.

"Why don't you just admit that you love Dr. Knightwood and get married? You don't have forever." She had said, and then turned right down a different corridor, leaving him rooted to the floor.

She made it sound so simple.

* * * * *

Two days of blinding snow swept over the Ural Mountains, burying the _Discovery_ once again and delaying the second test flight. As the snowstorm passed, the _Discovery's_ strange electromagnetic shield activated on its own, melting the snow up to seven hundred meters away despite the biting arctic cold of the Eurasian winter. Then, on a bright, clear afternoon the _Discovery_ rose again from the land of white nights, responding perfectly to the signals of its navigators, shaving twelve seconds off the previous time it had taken to achieve orbit.

Kansier half-smiled as they completed another revolution, peering at the Great Wall of China, an ancient landmark still visible from space. "Now let's see them attack us!" He said triumphantly, pleased when they passed the point in time when helm control had failed before. In the skies, the _Discovery_ could no longer bring harm to the area where it had been grounded. Only one thing bothered him; but surely after all of their efforts to restore the ship's guidance systems, they would maintain helm control this time.

Then suddenly, in the middle of the thought, Kansier and the others beside him were thrown to the floor.

The _Discovery_ had _changed its course_!

"What's happening?" Kansier shouted, picking himself up and brushing off his uniform, but he knew instinctively what was going on. All around the room, the bridge crew was struggling to remain upright in their seats.

Erin felt her body lurch sideways but told herself to remain calm. She had no intention of letting Knightwood down, not after the faith she had shown in Erin's ability despite her collapse during the last test run.

"Sir, the ship has adjusted 32 degrees starboard. We're leaving the Earth's orbit," Erin glanced over her panel.

"This course will take us above the solar system between the Mars and Jupiter orbit." Bekker added.

"Yes, we'll skirt the asteroid belt if we maintain our present course." Erin continued. "And according to current acceleration, we'll pass out of the solar system in only 6.2 Earth hours, sir."

Erin looked over the figures that readjusted with every passing second. The _Discovery_ was certainly not traveling anywhere near its speed capability, accelerating slowly enough to minimize the negative effects of g forces on its human crew, as if the ship were somehow _aware_ of the frailty of its passengers.

"This can't be happening," Kansier protested, knowing full well that it was. "We don't even have a full crew. Oh my God–we haven't got any fighters on board." He paused for only a moment. _Dear God, this ship really_ is _possessed_. _And now it has us_. "All right, Knightwood, no luck yet with the planes we've got here?"

Knightwood shook her head.

"Lieutenant Fox, get me the Central City Base Command Center. I want Hollander on the wire, now."

"Yes, sir. They've detected our course alteration and are standing by on red alert. I'm patching him in."

An image of Hollander, Dawe, and several of the scientists gathered in Central City to observe the _Discovery's_ take-off by satellite appeared on the vidigital screen before them.

"What's happened?" Dawe asked.

"We don't know," Kansier clipped tersely. "But I've got a fighter crew with no fighters, and an enemy ship out there that's bound to figure out sooner or later that something's going on over here," Kansier coughed. "We need a ship, and we need it yesterday. "

"None of the ships here on Earth have a crew on board." Hollander's brows came together in agitation.

"What about the ships on the space stations, Mars, Titan, anywhere?" Kansier redirected his attention back to his bridge crew long-range radar specialist, Hans Rheinhardt.

"It's no go, sir. They're all too far away to catch us at our present speed." Erin interrupted, looking at her console.

"She's right, sir," Hans said. "The nearest available battleship is on Mars right now being refueled."

"Dammit!" Kansier shouted. "All right, what about space station Gabriel?"

"They've only got the Hesperus, sir. That's a class c cruiser with only three squadrons on board." Hans offered.

"We need more than that." Kansier exhaled loudly. "Hollendar, set the ship's automatic guidance systems and send us the _Stargazer_. And hurry on it, man! Even she may not be able to catch up with us if you wait any longer. Empty crew or not, we need those fighters."

"Done," Dawe bit out, and the communication was abruptly cut off.

"Bring her in to the Great Bay on the port side, lieutenant Bekker." Kansier ordered.

"She won't fit in there, sir. The Great Bay is already full." Lieutenant Fox interrupted.

"Well then we'll just have to make her fit." Kansier said, as though Fox's information was immaterial. "Send every available person you can and use the transporter belts to get that stuff out of there." He ordered. "We're going to need all of the room we can get."

* * * * *

By the time the _Stargazer,_ set at full speed, caught up with the slowly-moving _Discovery_ , the great vessel had passed by the Mars orbit and was nearing the asteroid belt that orbited the solar system between Mars and Jupiter. In the Great Bay, the 192 meter long Earth cruiser squeezed through the low, wide air lock, scraping the sides a few times with a harsh grating sound that was muted by exposure to space beyond the air lock.

All attempts to preserve the atmosphere within had been made by synchronizing raising the inner air lock seal to the second that the Stargazer's front bow tapped the interior metal plate. Nevertheless, as time passed, precious air slowly leaked out, decreasing the air pressure by 17% before the outer air lock was closed.

_This is the real test for these alien suits which they say will keep us alive_ , Zhdanov thought to himself anxiously when the last corridor seal opened. They had donned their helmets only moments before but had little time to wait to adjust themselves to breathing. Cheung had found a pressurizer in one of the uniform lockers that could re-pressurize and re-oxygenate the small dense atmosphere packs on their backs. Zhdanov prayed he had done the right thing, since his own air supply had been one of the empty ones that they had attempted to refill.

Inside the Great Bay, the temperature had dropped unevenly, only about three degrees Celsius where they stood but as much as twenty over near the air lock doors. But Zhdanov felt no sudden temperature, pressure, or oxygen level changes within his uniform. He decided to confirm his success with the others over the helmet communicators and was pleased to find it unanimous. Knightwood then suggested checking on the fighters.

All but a few of the blue fighter planes had been safely relocated to other parts of the ship to bring the _Stargazer_ on board. The few that remained had been pushed by the _Stargazer_ about thirty meters, but when the UESRC scientists moved in to examine them, they were amazed to find them scratched up a little but still intact. Zhdanov was in particular shocked to discover that they hadn't been crushed, though he had studied their composition and knew how hardy the alien plating was.

"We'll have to figure out how to re-pressurize and oxygenate this area," Cheung advised. "Otherwise we'll have problems unloading the _Stargazer_ with the mingling of the atmospheres."

"There should be additional oxygen and pressurized atmospheric tanks on board, near the central quarters, and small canisters in every room and section of corridor," Zhdanov responded. "An extra air supply was implemented in every Earth ship after the Mariner disaster."

"Sir?" One of the technicians asked, not understanding the reference.

"The Mariner was a ship where the surviving crew was trapped in a single oxygenated space without access to any main functions." Zhdanov explained. "They finally died when the air supply ran out. The Mariner disaster is ancient history. But I'm not sure if we should waste the extra oxygenated atmosphere supply in here."

"It wouldn't be a waste." Knightwood shook her head. "We've got to be able to breathe in here to unload the ship. And if you guys recall, there's a hydrogarden in the _Stargazer's_ Mess Hall," she added.

"A food supply?" Zhdanov perceived.

"And a means of recycling the air if we have to," Knightwood added. "But shouldn't we return to the bridge? We can solve this mess later. Right now I think we should help Kansier determine where we're going."

* * * * *

Kansier was just asking for another course heading when the scientific team returned to the Command Center.

"It's very strange, sir. We can move the ship several degrees in any direction," Dimitriev said, sitting turned around to be heard better, "but it begins to readjust to its former heading within minutes after we try to control the heading."

"Do you think we can avoid the smaller asteroids?" Kansier persisted.

"Oh yes, sir. We have minimal control, but more than enough to steer clear of any possible collisions. I'll plot a course heading through them now." Dimitriev returned his attention back to his console station.

Knightwood found herself mesmerized by the view outside the forward window. Occasionally, a few pebble-sized asteroids appeared before them and then grew, disappearing to either side, lit up briefly by the _Discovery's_ beacon. Then a few small, distant dark rocks collided noiselessly with the forward viewscreen. Despite a minor collision every ten minutes or so, _Discovery's_ automatic stabilizers remained unaffected.

"Good. Ah, Zhdanov, Knightwood, Cheung. How is the _Stargazer_ holding up?" Kansier's face showed only mild concern.

"She's fine. I think we ought to discuss what we're going to _do_ now." Zhdanov put in.

"I see what you mean. In case we can't go home," Kansier nodded significantly and sighed.

"We were supposed to engage the Charon aliens, but the _Discovery_ truly does appear to have a mind of its own, as the crew were saying. If we leave the solar system–" Cheung's voice drifted off.

"We'll leave the Earth defenseless, without a large portion of its top defense squadrons," Kansier finished.

"Exactly." Knightwood agreed.

"Have we heard anything from the UESF yet?" Zhdanov asked.

"The council has called an emergency meeting to discuss the problem." Kansier replied.

"And the other flagship? Surely they have detected us by now." Knightwood's eyes drifted over to the long-range radar screen linkup, but no recent transmissions had arrived.

"Still no word from the Neptune defense ships." Kansier spoke through clenched teeth.

* * * * *

On board the Orian flagship Enlil, the Orian man Ekasi Iriken Zirnenka had spent nearly every day of his new life in the chambers of the Great Leader Sargon, sometimes contributing to the scientific, diplomatic, and philosophical discussions between the Great Leader and Garen, the Great Leader's main advisor. But Iriken discovered that most of the time, the Great Leader shunned company. Leader Sargon would spend days at a time in his personal chambers, taking no food, potable, or any other comfort.

Rumor had it that he didn't have to eat to survive, that he was indeed an immortal being. But who knew? The Great Leader Sargon had lived many centuries, to be sure.

In any event, Iriken found ways to fill his time. Each day he visited the computer archives of his people, and found a wealth of history there that incited and then nurtured his new desire for knowledge. He viewed all of the videoscanned materials of his ancient homeland for the first time and then sought out the civilian sectors on board Enlil, where the likeness of the ancient Orian cities of Nayin and Destria had been recreated.

On a whim, he had looked through ancient history of the worlds where his people, the Orian race, had once lived. Iriken discovered the planet Tiasenne, former twin world to their own Orian planet. And Iriken deepened his understanding of the history of the world known as Tiasenne, which was his own planet's former enemy. He learned of Tiasenne's political corruption and vanity, and witnessed its destruction through ancient footage. Most of the archives regarding Tiasenne even Iriken could not access, though he had been granted the highest security clearance.

Through all of his searching, Iriken found only a few stationary views of the ancient world of Tiasenne before its end. One had been taken from the top of a high building, overlooking the horizon, where a beautiful starship reflected the pure blue light of Rigell; another had been taken in a lightly wooded area, depicting only trees and a popular picnic site.

The final image had been taken in a city near a large body of water, showing an angelic Orian boy dressed in a maroon and grey uniform posing before a tall shining white building. Iriken had felt a strange shudder as he saw the image, certain it was a boy who had become their Great Leader Sargon.

Iriken was unable to keep recollections of Kiel3 from surfacing as he observed the beauty of ancient Tiasenne. Instructor Menidir had once taught them about Tiasenne, and how its inhabitants had taken the good fortune of their environment for granted. Remembering his sister Erika's last discussion with him, it occurred to Iriken that he had not yet discovered the reasons which had compelled them to attack the creatures of Kiel3.

The Zariqua Enassa—also known as Alessia—a mysterious alien creature, was supposed to be hiding somewhere on the planet, on board the ship Selesta. Could it be that the natives were protecting her as she had been hidden on Tiasenne in ancient history? That would explain why the Great Leader had authorized raids into the coastal population centers.

Iriken's anger flared as he considered how the Earth people had interfered in the Orian design and harbored the Zariqua Enassa. And so the fighter squadrons of Enlil had given them an education and a punishment for their collusion with the enemy of Orian. And then the creatures had further brought conflict upon themselves, firing against Enlil when she first entered the Kiel system.

Iriken would have gladly obeyed if the Great Leader's command had been to take Enlil to the surface of the third planet and re-create an Orian settlement there. But after years of stationary orbit above the smaller of the two planetoids in the ninth position of the Kiel system, he did not expect Enlil's awakening.

Or that the day would come when she would be set on a new course.

The Great Leader had been in his private chamber, speaking with several of the elite officers about a new offensive against Kiel3. The intrusion of the small alien group months ago had been only a trifling disturbance, hardly worth retaliation, though they had sent out a cruiser on schedule. The present proposed attack was merely a routine maneuver; the Great Leader had been unable to extract any information concerning Zariqua Enassa's location from the alien pilot before he had died on Enlil because the creature's mind and memory had been damaged in the crash of his fighter.

Then, as Great Leader Sargon listened to his advisors, his face impassive, his eyes had come alive suddenly with motion, no longer focused on the surroundings, but echoing some deep pain from within. He stood abruptly, waving his advisors into silence.

"Bring me the control grid." His deep voice filled the chamber. One of the advisors rushed from the room and returned moments later with the control grid depicting Enlil's present location.

Then, responding to Leader Sargon's adjustments, Enlil's main engines flared, and in the Forward Observation Viewport the familiar slowly turning background of stars rushed towards them and then away on either side.

The prey had at last revealed itself.

It was time to act, and catch Selesta at long last.

* * * * *

Shortly after Kansier informed the entire crew on board that they had lost control of the _Discovery_ , Knightwood and Zhdanov left the Command Center again to speak with the crew personally and bring back their suggestions and concerns.

Meanwhile the _Discovery_ had begun to increase its speed exponentially, and quickly passed out of the asteroid belt and further towards the edge of the solar system.

For a long time, there was only silence on the bridge; then a voice called out, "Message from Titan, sir. The alien ship is moving. She's on a direct course to rendezvous with us."

"Wait for news from the Council Head on Mars," Kansier ordered, drumming his fingers against the side of the command chair.

Minutes passed before a communication was received from the UESF Council representative. Kansier asked that the message be transmitted to all parts of the ship for everyone on board to hear. Finally a calm female voice interrupted the eldritch silence.

"Colonel Kansier, since the _Discovery_ has passed so far out of range, we do not expect an immediate response to this message. However, prompt action is warranted. We expect the Charon alien vessel to continue to follow you." Knightwood smiled as she listened; Elena Fabrichnova, Knightwood's friend and former classmate who had recently been promoted to Mars Division President, must have prevailed upon her representatives to deliver the news personally.

"We must know if you are willing to continue on the course that the _Discovery_ has set for itself." The message continued. "We understand that some of you may intend to board the _Stargazer_ and abandon the _Discovery_. However, I understand that Kansier will remain, perhaps in the event that _Discovery_ might crash again on another world within a relatively close distance of our system; if that were to happen, then the _Stargazer_ might be able to return you to the Earth in your own lifetimes.

"Nevertheless, I have been instructed to inform you of the word we received some time ago from the UESF Council. The Council feels it cannot order any Earth citizens into permanent exile and that the crew must be given a choice whether or not to abandon the ship. However, there is no guarantee that the Charon aliens will not return to destroy the Earth if they attain their goal, unless monitored and drawn away by your crew, unless you keep the _Discovery_ from them _indefinitely._

"That is what the Council hopes you will choose to do, though it will mean permanent exile from Earth. They have asked me to remind you that should you abandon the _Discovery_ to space, it may be that another world will also fall victim to the Charon aliens, another world as beautiful and peaceful as the Earth. I myself cannot help but wonder if your present situation was the reason for the mysterious disappearance of _Discovery's_ original inhabitants–if they did not abandon her when they lost control of the navigational systems.

"In any case, at your current speed and location, you know that no Earth vessel is capable of catching up to you. The council will, of course, understand if you feel the task too great, if you feel you have few supplies, or too scanty a crew, but the decision is up to all of them. What we are asking would be the most unthinkable sacrifice of all–to leave the Earth behind, perhaps forever. We will be waiting for a response, whether or not to expect the return of the _Stargazer_ or to wish our farewells to those friends who will hereafter be regarded the greatest heroes of the Earth."

"We have to decide quickly," Kansier said as the message ended, before the others could speak. "Who here wishes to go home? It's nothing to be ashamed of if you want to leave. It seems none of us who remain will be able to see our families or friends again."

"What about you, sir?" Major Dimitriev asked, turning around.

"I intend to stay with the ship," Kansier declared, folding his arms across his chest. "Whatever those aliens are after, I pledge I'll find it. And I'm interested to see just where we're going. I'm willing to bet everything that the Charon aliens are moving to follow us and not to attack the Earth."

"You really think they'll follow us, sir?" Rheinhardt asked.

Kansier nodded. "Their course heading is set to rendezvous with the vector we're traveling. And I believe Fabrichnova was right. We must keep them from attaining the _Discovery_. If they do, they may return to the Earth and destroy us out of spite, or because they have no other use for us, once they have gotten what they wanted all along."

"Very well, sir," Hans said. "I'll relay instructions to the crew as to where to relay their decisions."

"Very good," Kansier said, nodding. _So now the question is: do we love the Earth enough to leave her behind forever?_ Kansier asked himself. As he stared at the emptiness of space, he began thinking of all the places he had ever seen on Earth, of the beauty of his beloved native world. He thought of Greenwich, where he had trained, Okinawa, Oslo, and the Ural Mountains, the UESRC and Central City on the American continent, and the many worldwide centers he had visited; as he stood on _Discovery's_ bridge with the great void before him, he suddenly felt a part of cultures he had never known, a part of them in that they were a part of the Earth, the precious Earth, the home which he would never know again.

"Any Earth-bound travelers better start leaving soon," he added a moment later, in a voice that betrayed none of his own fears, none of his private pain. _Although._ he admitted to himself, _with the Stargazer wedged in so tightly into the Great Cargo Bay,_ how _they were going to leave might be a bit of a problem_.

"We'll both stay with the ship, sir," Scott said; Kansier turned around and regarded the younger officer. A bittersweet smile played around the corners of Scott's mouth, and he nodded stoically, masking his fears.

Scott watched as Kansier turned to another communication and looked towards the monitor which held the much-magnified image of the diminishing Earth; his gaze never left the monitor until the Earth became almost a distant star, faded, and finally disappeared.

Scott suddenly felt as though the very ground had been ripped from beneath him. He had been cast adrift in a restless sea. The Earth was gone. However, his mind refused to accept that he would never see the Earth again. As he stood contemplating the future and the infinity which stretched before them, he found his thoughts drawn back to the Earth; the Earth contained all that he knew. He could not comprehend existence without it. How could he leave it? Never see the Earth again? Never!?

Scott had never felt this love before. He felt as though he were dying. To leave the Earth forever was like dying, like losing his life as he had known it.

Yet in a moment, he would be reborn again, not a creature of the Earth, but a wanderer without an identity, a soldier with no more home to defend. From now on, he knew that his world was the _Discovery_ , that his fellow crew had become his world, that they must become his only world. They had nothing, nothing but each other now.

### Chapter Five

Shortly after the bridge received the transmission from the UESF Council on Mars, the _Discovery_ left the Sol system; as they entered into new areas within the same spiral arm of the Milky Way, Sol had dwindled in the unending sky, now just a distant, average yellow star. Despite their decision to leave the Earth behind, the crew grew despondent and morose about leaving their loved ones behind without even an opportunity to wish them good-bye; for a long time, a funereal atmosphere permeated the ship. Two days had passed since the launch, and the speed at which the _Discovery_ was traveling continued to increase. Still, she was averaging a rate of only .03 light speed, which meant that even the closest solar systems would take years to reach. And at the present rate, one of the shipboard astrophysicists had calculated she wouldn't be very hard to catch.

On the second day that the alien spaceship of the Charon aliens caught up to its prey. While the primary bridge crew slept, the alien ship of the Charon aliens activated a gravitational weapon against them, pulling the _Discovery_ off course and slowing her down. Thousands of passengers were thrown to the floor and around the room as the artificial gravity on board the _Discovery_ went haywire.

Then the _Discovery's_ own immune system kicked in, restoring the internal gravity and supercharging its power to escape the gravitational net. The resulting power surge sent the ship farther away at a greater speed, .041 the speed of light. In another day, there was no sign of the alien vessel that had pursued them, and the crew waited anxiously for another attack. Anything was preferable to the aliens' retreating to Earth.

Nearly three hours after the primary bridge crew was put off-duty, Erin Mathieson had taken a break from her self-imposed studies on the maintenance of internal ecosystems to visit the Mess Hall for an early dinner. At first she and the other crew members had been concerned about the food supply, since only enough supplies and livestock to last a few months had been loaded on board a month earlier at the Ural Base.

However, late on the day of their departure, the former UESRC and Council scientists had taken a few teams of fighter pilots inside the _Stargazer_ to salvage materials. The first priority of the teams had been to retrieve oxygen and compressed atmosphere canisters to re-pressurize the Great Bay.

Their second concern had been removing the hydrogarden and the precious soil that contained each plant. Zhdanov's fear that the _Stargazer_ had not been re-supplied for space travel was allayed by the discovery of a full Mess Hall pantry. There were enough dehydrated food rations and water canisters to last the present _Discovery_ crew for more than a year.

Nevertheless, each person on board had been distributed only three ration chips per day for the next month. Erin had skipped lunch that day, but she thought she might be hungry later that evening after her second shift, or at least that she might begin to grow irritable from lack of food. She seldom actually felt hungry, but long periods without food tended to agitate her. The Mess Hall was running at every moment to allow the primary and secondary bridge crews the most convenience their absurd schedules would permit.

Kansier had dismissed some of the primary bridge crew early that day, seeing that all systems were normal. Protocol was beginning to pale in significance to what the future might hold, and Kansier found it unnecessary to keep all of his bridge navigators on duty, especially since they could not much affect the _Discovery's_ guidance system, anyway. All shifts had been decreased to an eight hour period per day, in order to attenuate the monotony of the Command Center atmosphere and increase the crew's overall alertness.

Most of the operations teams and fighter squadrons were busy at the _Stargazer_ when Erin came off-duty. Some of the overcrowding was being alleviated by transferring the primary fighter teams closer to the unloaded fighters, into the old crew quarters on board the _Stargazer._ The Earth ship was also being set up to work with the _Discovery's_ internal communications network, in order that the crew quartered there might still feel connected to the nexus of the ship itself.

Only a dozen or so people dotted the numerous tables of the enormous Mess Hall; Erin found a table near the cooking and rehydrating stations that had been put into the _Discovery_. The alien food systems had been left intact, though none of the scientists had as yet been able to get the machines to work.

Erin sat toying with her food, her mind on other things. Her mind tortured her with recollections of her mother, father, and sister when they all lived at the UESRC. She wondered how they had taken the news that she was lost to them; she wondered if her sister Moira had returned to the Earth by now, since it was clear that the Charon aliens had left the Sol system to follow _Discovery_. She thought of her childhood and most beloved friend Coline and Major Watanabe, and all of the others she had known at the UESRC who had remained behind, such as Dr. Cameron. Was the Earth celebrating its good fortune? How many other families mourned the loss of loved ones? What would the future hold for the Earth they all loved so dear? The worst part was that they would never know. They were dead to her now, as dead as she was to them. They would never see each other again.

"So, I've found you at last." A voice interrupted her. "You've been avoiding me for months now, Erin. Something bothering you?" Erik Ross asked, but Erin only shrugged. A moment later, Erik took a seat beside her and began to drum his fingers into the table. He had already used his lunch ration a few hours before, just before his shift began. Then on the bridge Kansier had allowed Erik and four of his navigators to leave after only two hours; the navigators were the luckiest part of the crew, since their services were not really useful in steering the ship.

For the past three days, like so many others, Erik Ross had been wondering about what the future would bring them all. In a way, he was almost glad that they had all been confined together, even though it meant they would never return home. For there were only six thousand members in their crew and little over three thousand men on board, about a third of them married maintenance workers. Thinking about the future, Erik was often annoyed that Major Dimitriev was here, but at least his fiancée Catherine Cresson had also made it on board with the research scientists from Central City.

In any case, there was no one left for him on Earth, no family to mourn, no significant friends who had not also been included among the crew. He felt sorry for the others in some ways, because he knew what it was like to lose everyone he had ever loved, but he couldn't help feeling a certain bitterness that the crew were all moping about the ship. At least their families were still alive, living happily on the Earth.

"So, you aren't going to talk to me?" Erik asked, his eyes narrowing on her.

"I'm sorry," Erin offered. "It's just that I've been busy and preoccupied—and anyway, you know we work opposing shifts."

"Yes, I know," he conceded. "Hey, I understand. I've had a lot on my mind recently, too. It's sad, though. You can't talk to anyone around here anymore. I guess—sometimes I just wish things could be the way they used to be back at the UESRC," he said, shrugging. "I mean that at least then we knew what to expect," he added, resting his elbow on the table, his fist pressed into his cheek.

"So what are Hans, Nikolai, and Einar doing these days?" Erin asked.

"Same as usual, I expect." Erik gave a slight shrug. "They've accepted the situation—to an extent, anyway. Nikki seems to be taking everything worse than Einar and Hans; but then Einar's distracted at the moment. He says he's fallen for one of the Yokohama scientists, and there's nothing like new love to help cure old wounds, you know? The only thing he complains about is that he can't send her flowers."

They both looked at each other and laughed.

"What about your new roommates?" Erin asked.

"Kusao and Garrick?" Erik responded. "Well of course Kusao and I get along really well. And Garrick's really great, too—they both are, when I see them. Actually, as you know Kusao's on the primary bridge crew, and Garrick's a fighter pilot now—and they've been busy helping the technicians do the rearranging around here."

"Well, I'm glad. Anyway, Erik, it was good seeing you, but I should be going. I have to report to duty soon, and I want to get a few hours sleep in before I go," Erin got up to leave.

"Wait, Erin, there's something I want to talk about—" Erik said, standing, reaching out an arm to stop her.

Erin sensed that he was about to say something, something akin to his confession almost a year ago, just before they left the Earth for the Charon mission, and tried to avoid him.

She had tried to blot out the memory of that day. Erik had told her he loved her that spring morning, but they hadn't spoken of it since, not since she walked out on him, leaving him behind in her own quarters.

She felt that he hadn't changed his mind about her in all the time since, but she hadn't changed her opinion of him, either. She really cared about Erik, which made it so difficult to speak ill of him or speak the truth to him as she saw it. But she didn't love him enough in return. If they were ever drawn together, she felt that they would destroy each other, or rather that he would destroy her. They had been friends, and friendship was all she wanted.

On these grounds she had rejected him, not only because she already loved Scott and did not love Erik. Yet many months had passed since those simple days at the UESRC. Erik was no longer the idealistic young man he had been; she felt as though she were an impediment to him, a false ideal he held on to that also held him back, when all other such fantasies had fallen by the wayside.

Another big problem Erin knew about herself she kept a secret from everyone. The only other person who knew that she had never had a menses cycle was Dr. Cameron, who was still back on Earth. Erin had been hiding the fact that she had something wrong with her ovaries for several years, and it meant that she probably could not have children. When she had asked what was wrong with her ovaries, Cameron had said that they just didn't work normally, and that there was nothing anyone could do to fix them. He had reassured her that her vagina was normal, and that she could still have sexual intercourse someday, but her ovaries were dead. Erin had shelved the issue only temporarily, hoping to get back to Dr. Cameron sometime to figure out what could be done to get her ovaries to work. However, there was always some reason she had to be busy, and now it was too late. She'd eventually have to find a gynecologist, she had thought, and get a second opinion on her ovaries, but something always held her back... and she kept putting it off.

Deep down, she knew she didn't want to know what was wrong with her. Why she was different than everyone else. So she avoided doctors like the plague and kept things hidden that were wrong with her body.

Erin also felt awkward in forging relationships with men, knowing that she had no menses and could never have children. It mattered to her that she couldn't have children, but she suspected it might matter even more to her future husband.

Erin was about to say something when Erin and Erik suddenly collided with each other. The ship's interior had become surreal, the ground not steady, the walls diaphanous. Even Erik did not feel quite real as Erin reached out to hold onto him and hold him up. Everyone around them had lost consciousness; the room felt hazy, somnolent, unreal as a dream, and the objects around them seemed distorted. The table appeared to have grown in size, her tray now on the floor seemed to have shrunk. The spoon in her hand had grown infinitely heavy and dropped but never reached the floor, hovering in mid-air.

Erin had begun to imagine that she felt the motions of every molecule in her body, pulling in all directions. All of her thoughts became a jumbled mess, memories as far as ten years before becoming temporarily crystal clear, as if they were about to occur again. And yet her awareness of where she was remained.

_Mass to energy_ , her mind repeated a dozen times or more, but she heard the words as if from far away.

She could not say how long she was trapped in the distorted reality. Time seemed to have lost all of its meaning. A shadow of Erik Ross appeared seated on the table, and a semi-visible facsimile of the food she had eaten appeared at the table beside him.

But she herself remained whole. She felt as if she were losing control of her mind, as images of the past came clearly to her mind. She heard a computerized voice calling out a warning to her. She recognized it and recalled a dream long ago when she had heard a warning alert and the same voice had calmed her, putting her to sleep.

Then, as suddenly as it had happened, the alternate reality retreated.

"Erin, are you all right?" Erik asked in concern as soon as his mind cleared. "What just happened? Oh, you dropped your tray." He smiled and knelt down to help her pick up the fallen containers and silverware. "Something must have gone wrong with the navigational systems. I feel like someone just used my head to crack walnuts," he laughed.

"Do you remember anything strange happening in here a minute ago?" Erin asked tentatively, looking around, but their surroundings had returned to normal.

"Something special, you mean?" Erik regarded her in confusion. "We just bumped into each other. I guess I'm not always light on my feet. Hard to imagine, isn't it?" he said, offering a charming smile, hoping to calm her down. She seemed genuinely disturbed by something, but he couldn't understand why.

"Oh, you." Erin waved her hand in mock exasperation. "Can't you be serious even for a minute?"

"I used my minute up a while ago," Erik said.

She laughed, momentarily succumbing to the power charm and handsome features hold over female hearts.

A moment later three tones sounded, preceding an announcement from Colonel Kansier. The entire mess hall stilled to listen.

"Attention, crew," Kansier's voice boomed from above, "do not be alarmed if strange things occurred within the last few seconds. Our navigational computer shows that in the last few seconds, our spatial coordinates have changed. Zhdanov agrees with me that somehow we have been able to... pardon the term— _jump_ across space. Those of you who were on the observation decks may have observed the phenomenon. Our visuals show what we believe was a wormhole gate in space that the ship just passed through.

"If you feel a bit disoriented, that is probably due to the acceleration we experienced just prior to the space jump. Our instrument readings have completely changed, and we are at present trying to calculate how far we have traveled and where our new position is. Therefore all secondary bridge crew members are requested to report back on the bridge. Primary bridge crew report back one hour before scheduled duty." Three tones replaced Kansier's voice, signaling the end of the message.

Lively conversations began at the other end of the room.

"Well, it looks as if I'm the one who has to rush off," Erik said quickly, "but actually I do have something I'd like to talk over with you later."

Erin watched him leave; he ran to the adjoining corridor and extended a hand to the doorway to sling himself around more quickly.

No longer in a hurry, Erin fingered her unopened bread packet, and tore the seal open. But when she took a bite, it seemed like the texture of the bread had changed and become soggy. But it did not taste soggy at all, which would have happened if the seal had been broken in rehydration.

She dismissed it as a badly preserved ration pack item and got up again to take her tray to the sanitizer.

* * * * *

Back on the bridge, Kansier was asking for an estimation of the distance they had traveled.

"We're plotting the radio waves and luminosities we've received, sir. Once we've correlated the new readings with our old measurements, we'll be able to estimate how far we've traveled." Lieutenant Svetlik, a tall, lanky redhead, responded from the communications console.

"Can you create a visual representation of the space we're heading into?" Kansier demanded.

"I believe so, sir. We'll transfer our signals into colors in the visual range, but that may eliminate some of the anomalies ahead which are outside our visual range." Lieutenant Taylor responded.

"Well, just as long as we can get some idea of what the area looks like magnified closer than it appears outside the forward viewport," Kansier said, gesturing towards the constant view of distorted lights of stars as the ship moved through space.

"Sir, I'm bringing up the present corrected visual transmissions," lieutenant Taylor added.

"We were heading in the direction of the Coma Bernicies constellation before the ship _jumped_ ," Knightwood reminded him.

A collection of thousands of stars and galaxies corrected to appear stationary appeared in the viewscreen.

Kansier remembered the moments prior to the jump through space. He had noticed the dark pinpoint in the sky only after it enlarged, forming a dark, flat, rectangular face in the backdrop of stars. Gaps had begun to appear in the stars as they spread into bands of light, multiplied as if by coming into contact with some dark prism. The lights had continued to multiply and spread out across visible space, patterns of individual star groups repeating again and again, until they filled in the dark patches across the sky.

_Gravitational lensing_ was Cheung's name for the strange effects they had witnessed. The fractured light had become blueshifted and grew in its intensity until they hit the bright collage of colors... and suddenly Kansier was blinking at an image of normal space in the visual holomonitor.

The _Discovery_ had passed through the mouth of the wormhole and appeared again in a foreign region of the universe. If they all had any doubts before, now they knew that there would be no returning to the Earth.

"I have an estimated distance, sir." Taylor updated, interrupting Kansier's recollections. "We've traveled approximately 52 thousand light years. We are now outside the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Good Lord," Kansier breathed. "What is our present cruising speed?" He finally managed, though his voice was low.

"About .076 light speed."

"Course correction, sir. 2.54 degrees, 6.12 degrees, by .79 degrees." One of the navigators informed him.

"Kansier," Cheung said suddenly, looking up from one of the visual panels he had been using to replay and analyze the footage taken before the jump through the wormhole. His expression was calm, but Kansier knew that he would not have spoken so quickly unless he had made a groundshaking discovery.

"Yes," Kansier focused his attention on the Chinese scientist, and Knightwood and Zhdanov also turned from the holo-monitor to listen to what he had to say.

"That image I saw, the small object near the mouth of the wormhole—the one that appeared to give off some kind of exotic pulse near the mouth—it was some kind of gravitational wave receiver." Cheung said, keeping his voice calm.

"You mean a monitor—" Knightwood began excitedly.

"—an object capable of canceling out the gravitation forces that close off the mouths of wormholes." Cheung interrupted. "It canceled out disturbances in the field before our acceleration waves could destroy the wormhole channel. Only that isn't the most important thing." Cheung added.

"The throat of the wormhole was threaded with exotic matter that creates a field of negative pressure capable of sustaining and stabilizing the wormhole." He went on. "The field exerts negative pressure, anti-gravitational waves, if you will, keeping the wormhole open. But the gravitational wave receiver ensures that no approaching object can disturb that balance."

"Incredible," Kansier breathed.

"Yes," Cheung agreed. "As you saw, the wormhole's monitoring device began to engage to cancel out our sudden acceleration, but then—and I don't know how—Discovery suddenly released its _own_ negative pressure field. It was the field surrounding the ship, not just our relativistic acceleration, that contributed to the strange effects we experienced on board just as the ship entered the wormhole." Cheung smiled in conclusion, pleased by Knightwood's surprised expression.

"Hmmm," Kansier nodded, digesting the information. "We can only guess as to which civilization is responsible for this creation, of course," he shook his head gravely, "but I hope for our sakes it was not the beings who created _Discovery_ —the Charon aliens."

"What do you mean?" Zhdanov's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Because—if they aren't capable of wormhole sub-space travel, we may have just surrendered the Earth to destruction," Kansier said. "We can only hope that they can use wormhole travel as well, that they will follow us somehow, and do not return to our galaxy again. Otherwise, the Earth we love may be left defenseless now."

* * * * *

At last Ornenkai, computerized entitity on board the spaceship Selesta, realized his mistake. Ornenkai, once Vice-Emperor of the entire intergalactic empire of Seynorynael had made a devasting miscalculation. All those years ago, on his own home world, he must have made an error in his translation of the ancient Enorian texts prophesying that a singularity would come from Kiel3, or the Earth to destroy the empire—but how could that be, that he had miscalculated? No, Ornenkai protested, there could be no mistaking the importance of Kiel3 in Seynorynael's destiny, in the destiny of the entire universe. If the singularity would not come from Kiel3, he thought, then perhaps the creatures of Earth would find it. It was a long shot, Ornenkai knew, but he held on to his hope.

Nevertheless, he knew it was time to return to the Celestian worlds of Rigell where the rest of Ornenkai's people lived, and where Alessia was waiting for him to fulfill her promise to him and return her daughter to her.

Unfortunately, Ornenkai foresaw difficulties in returning to the Celestian worlds. He could not risk a spontaneous space jump without using the wormhole gates, for fear of damaging and possibly destroying the frail Earthlings or Selerael herself, yet to Rigell's Celestian planets Ornenkai knew now he must return. He had promised Alessia he would return her daughter to her. Who knew then what they might do together to destroy the evil empire of Seynorynael, and if Alessia could help him to fulfill his mission to destroy the intergalactic emperor Marankeil, once his best friend.

There was only one choice left: to retrace the wormhole path created by Hinev's explorers. Yet the path that would return him to the Rigell system would also take the spaceship Selesta to the ancient territories of the Seynorynaelian Empire; as safe as he was from retribution for the part he had played in subjugating the galaxies, Ornenkai's mind gave him no peace. Could he bear confronting his own guilt? As Vice-Emperor he had subjugated half of the universe and had used brutal means to keep it under control. He consoled himself now with the thought that the people who had suffered under Marankeil's council, of which he had been a part, had been dead for more than fifteen thousand years. Yet Ornenkai had no choice but to face his own demons. He had been a butcher of millions.

Ornenkai had begun to regret how he had stolen the Earthlings from their home, by using the power he held over the ship Selesta's guidance systems. Even that power could be taken from him, he knew, if Seleral, known as Erin to the Earthlings, ever learned to take control of the ship. He would be left in utter isolation, without any influence in the material world; communicating to the Earthlings over the communications network in his own language would have been equally futile.

In truth, Ornenkai was bitter about his situation, and his own helplessness was in part why he had been so cruel to the Earthlings and taken control of the ship to take it back to Rigell right away. The first day, however, Selerael had thwarted him and wrestled control away from him, and he had been obliged to wait to carry out his plan, obliged to wait, while fearing that Sargon would come to claim the ship. Ornenkai had a few regrets that he had taken the creatures from their world, yet it could not be helped. Ornenkai only cared in small part for the Earthlings as he saw them as a means to an end, as possibly they would find the Enorian singularity, the most precious of all anti-matter in the universe, for him. Also, they had befriended Selerael and must now be protected by him, if it meant him no great loss. Ornenkai was frustrated for another reason. Though he had depended upon Selerael as his familiar in the physical world, and had once controlled her with simple telepathic urges, he found he simply could no longer reach Selerael's mind on his own and without her telepathic help. Instead, she remained stubbornly detached from him, ignoring all of his feeble attempts to speak to her in his limited command of English. She thwarted him in his every attempt to reach her mind now that she had grown older and more powerful, and she had fully succumbed to the attractive illusion of life as an Earthling. Ornenkai didn't understand enough of the present human languages to verbally communicate with her or any of the Earth humans, so he didn't talk to them. How he wished then that he might have had Hinev's greatest gifts, that he might invade their minds and learn English, that he might then understand the creatures of Kiel3, that they might be understood by him!

Ornenkai felt no sorrow for the Earthlings in that they had been taken from their home by him, yet he wasn't immune to the suffering he had caused. Though their words and thoughts were closed to him, he watched them unseen, holding images of their Earth families. In the private moments of their lives he was with them; he watched as they shed hidden tears to keep the others from being affected, unaware that they were not alone.

No, none of them were alone. For though there had been no sign of Enlil, Ornenkai knew that Sargon would follow Selesta, even to the mouth of hell.

* * * * *

"So what you're saying is that, in your opinion, we won't change much even though we've left our home for good?" Nikolai asked, tapping his empty glass against the console in the middle of the mess hall, the counter in front of the main drink facilitator unit.

Nikolai and Kusao had run into each other in the mess hall late that evening and sat down for a drink; somehow they had ended up in a good-humored argument about how isolation was going to affect the crew now that they had left the Earth behind forever.

Kusao nodded. "If you think about it, everything about where you come from is impressed on your mind from the moment you're born. In a way, it's who you are. So, we have left the Earth, but we'll stay pretty much the same in spirit."

"Not sure about that," Nikolai said.

"Well look at it this way," Kusao agreed. "I don't think any of _us_ will ever really leave our heritage behind, but as time goes on, every _future_ generation will begin to forget more and more about who we are. There's no telling what we'll evolve into in generations to come, if we survive, that is."

"So," Nikolai said ponderously, "Even though our children will learn their heritage from us, just as we learned it from our parents, they will evolve gradually and we'll stay as we were." "Yep, in my opinion. But hell, I don't _want_ to get used to living here, even if we have to—I know at least I'll never forget how much I loved my home." He said, struck by an unusual pang of desperation.

"I miss being home, too," Nikolai said. "Still, it's our character that makes us who we are, and if we don't go insane living on board this ship, we should be able to build a home here that is comfortable to future generations," Nikolai shrugged.

"Can you honestly say we can trust a ship that has a mind of its own? We might all be obliterated at any time from something living on board, much less from starvation or something else."

"Yea, I don't trust the silence at all." Nikolai said. "I am always looking over my shoulder."

"Well, at last we agree on something," Kusao said, and got up to get another drink for himself and Nikolai.

"Here's to pointless arguments," Nikolai suggested, jovial once more, as Kusao sat down.

"To pointless arguments," Kusao said, raising his glass.

They clinked cups and drank.

"It's too bad this isn't something stronger." Kusao said a moment later in lamentation, peering down into his near-empty glass of lemon shandy.

"How I miss vodka," Nikolai added, commiserating. "Zhdanov and the Ural Base technicians have some, but they're keeping it to themselves."

"You don't have any?" Kusao asked, mildly surprised.

Nikolai shrugged. "I drank all of mine the day we left Earth."

Kusao laughed.

"Well, I've got to be going." Nikolai said a moment later, putting his glass into the sterilization unit. "I've got an early morning shift tomorrow," he said, rising from the chair. "Hmmh, morning," he laughed. Can't really say there's a 'morning' anymore, since we live in space now. Anyway, it was good talking to you, Kusao."

"I'll see you around," Kusao said as Nikolai headed for the door. He sat a few moments longer, then drained his glass in one gulp and put it in the sterilization unit. As he turned around, he saw Nathalie Quinn at a table nearby and dismissed any intentions of heading back to his quarters.

"What are you doing here?" Nathalie asked, barely looking up as he sat beside her.

"Pretty young women shouldn't have to sit alone," Kusao offered.

"Maybe I want to be alone," Nathalie said in irritation, swirling her glass and watching the motion of the liquid within.

"Now why don't I believe you?" Kusao asked.

"Hmm. Then let's just say I don't want to talk about it," Nathalie said, shaking her head.

"Do you want me to walk with you back to your room?" Kusao offered, sensing her unhappiness. There were circles around her eyes, as though she hadn't slept in days.

"No, I want you to go away," Nathalie insisted, waving her hand, then put the same hand to her head and leaned the elbow on the table to prop herself up. For a moment, Kusao almost obliged her. He got up and moved away a few feet but felt himself irrepressibly drawn back. Nathalie never seemed to need anybody, but maybe it was a thin illusion.

"Nathalie, if you can't be yourself around your friends, when can you be yourself?" Kusao asked, sitting down again.

"You're still here?" Nathalie said, looking up, then sighed, as though conceding defeat.

"So, what's going on?" Kusao prompted. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

"It's not easy to talk to you about it," Nathalie admitted.

"Why?"

"Because Erik's your friend."

"This is about Erik?" Kusao said, then sensed he had touched a nerve. "It is about Erik, isn't it? He told me you and he dated once, back at the UESRC, but wasn't that a while back?"

"And you, like everyone else, think I should put him out of my mind, right? You think I don't know that I'm wasting my time? Believe me, I wish I could just forget him."

"You really care about him?" Kusao said, intrigued.

"Erik was the first person who ever bothered to find out what the real me was like." Nathalie shrugged. "For a while it seemed we were really starting something, but I guess I must have scared him off somehow. I still don't know what I did wrong. He didn't have to prove he was some kind of hero to impress me, you know—oh, damn it," she said, responding to an alarm on her wrist communicator. "Someone's checking up on me," she added, patching into a vidigital signal of her quarters.

"Who is it?" Kusao asked.

Nathalie sighed. "It's Erin. She's been looking for me, but I turned off my personal frequency."

"You don't want to talk to her?"

"Sometimes I just need time by myself."

"I understand," Kusao said, nodding. "You're avoiding her because Erik is in love with her."

"Petty of me, isn't it?" Nathalie said, staring down into her glass.

"Not at all," Kusao disagreed. "Not at all."

"You won't say anything to Erik—or Erin—about this, will you?" Nathalie looked up suddenly.

"Of course not," Kusao said, shaking his head. "Now put that drink down and come get some rest. I'll distract Erin if she's still there."

"Thanks, Kusao," Nathalie managed as he helped her to her feet, in a voice that was surprisingly vulnerable and sad now that he had worn through her initial hostility.

"You're welcome, Nathalie."

* * * * *

Where could Nathalie be? Erin wondered, frowning in disappointment. She glanced about the observation deck nearest the crew quarters several more times and decided to try once more on her wrist communicator. Nathalie had not been in her quarters, but she didn't appear to have gone out for a short walk in the neighboring corridors, either.

"Well hello, Dr. Forren," one of the Russian technicians called in the corner of the room. The man sitting by the viewport turned away from the starry view and gave a slight sound of surprise.

"Pyotr Alexandrovich, you're looking well." Forren offered pleasantly. He was a man just past thirty, with keen, wide-set grey eyes and dark hair, with well-formed features, a long aquiline nose, and a broad forehead. His complexion was fair, his lips ruddy, and his gaze steady and intelligent.

"Well, doctor, I took your advice and started Lena on the medicine. I do think her nerves are a little better."

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll be in at 0600."

"Yes—" Forren stopped abruptly. As the Russian technician turned away, Forren's eye was drawn to a young creature clad in blue standing in the center of the room; her face was lovely. "Who _is_ that girl?" He said, intrigued by her and totally caught off his guard.

"You're looking for someone, doctor?" The Russian technician asked.

"Yes, I believe so," Forren said slowly, then remembered his manners. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Pyotr Alexandrovich."

"Good-bye doctor."

"Yes, good-bye." Forren made a polite bow and settled back to observe the girl from where he sat as the Russian departed.

Ten minutes later, Erin decided to give up on Nathalie. What else was there to do? Ho-ling wasn't around; no one she knew was off-duty, so Erin decided to go for a walk. One last look towards the observation window nearby failed to produce a Nathalie or any other familiar person, to her profound disappointment.

She turned around, colliding into a man walking past. They hit each other hard; Erin jarred her right browbone on his shoulder; he was knocked aside and almost fell.

"Oh, excuse me," she began to apologize, feeling more embarrassment than pain.

"There's no need." The man said, stooping to retrieve a clip that had fallen out of his pocket. "Entirely my fault."

"I wasn't looking where I was going," Erin explained, gesturing, flummoxed.

"Perhaps not, but it really was my fault. I saw that you were turning around. I'm afraid I just wasn't fast enough." His calm voice and steady gaze had an effect upon her; she stopped gesturing and looked at him. His face was not unpleasant, though perhaps a bit reserved in expression. It was a likable, even attractive face, but his manner seemed so formal that she wouldn't have said anything to him had he not spoken right then.

"I have to confess now," the strange man said after a moment with an earnest glance, "that chance had little to do with this most unfortunate accident."

"It didn't?"

"Not that I intended to make such a lasting impression, mind you," he continued. "I saw you from over there in the corner," he said, half-turning to point out the table he frequented. "And I thought perhaps you might require some assistance. You seem to be looking for something. Anything I can do to help?"

"I'm afraid not," Erin admitted. "I've lost my friend, you see, and the misfortune is, she doesn't appear to want to be found."

"That's a pity." The man said, but without any artifice. His expression was such that she sensed he was a man of high ideals and moral principles, that nothing but pure truth ever passed his lips, at least as far as he had ascertained what was good and what contemptible. "By God, you know you are quite remarkable." He said, surveying her face, then slapped his hand against his forehead. "Oh. but wait a moment, where have my manners gone? Forgive me for being blunt. My name is Forren, Dr. Forren. I'd ask how you managed to end up on this strange ship, but the er—uniform quite gives that away. I myself was invited on board at the Ural Base. Had I but known where the invitation would lead me!" he said, with a note of anguish.

"You're a medical doctor, then?"

"Yes."

"I appreciate your consideration—"

"Forren, Lieutenant—Mathieson?!'" He cried, reading her name plate and rank. "Oh yes, I have heard of your family."

Erin only nodded.

"Oh, I am truly sorry. I had no intention of upsetting you." He said sincerely, realizing that the subject of family was a sore one for most of the people on board. "I, too, have left my family behind, and I'm afraid I have yet to make many friends apart from my former patients. There just doesn't seem to be much time to devote to individuals."

"I understand," Erin agreed.

"However, I must admit, I'd enjoy a visit from you, if you're ever so inclined. We could go for a walk sometime, if you ever need a companion and this wayward friend of yours isn't around."

"Well, Dr. Forren—"

"Actually my first name is Robert."

"Well then, pleased to meet you, Robert."

* * * * *

Weeks passed, and the _Discovery's_ radar specialists reported no sign of the Charon aliens' flagship, while the _Discovery_ continued to cruise at the same speed and on the same course. Eleven days after the last jump through the wormhole, the navigators made an emergency course adjustment of about twenty-one degrees port to avoid a runaway star; the situation would not have been a danger had it not been for the ship computer's immunity to course adjustments; at the last moment, the _Discovery_ allowed the temporary correction in its course, but once the anomaly had been passed, the guidance computer took control of the helm once more, altering its course to rendezvous with the initial vector it had been traveling.

"Aching legs," Kansier said, and shifted a moment in his command chair.

Kansier had begun to realize the strain of continuous duty on his bridge crew, as well as on his sore and aching legs and backside from having sat in the command chair hour after hour. Some of the crew seated closest to the observation window began to show symptoms of fatigue, irritability, and unusual depression. One of the top medical doctors on board, Dr. Gheorghe Droessler, had concluded that the long hours staring at the space field had elevated the crew's perception of the missed daylight hours and that this stimulated a fatigue which, combined with general anxiety, sleeplessness, and homesickness, had created counter-productive nervous and psycho-somatic disorders as well as severe depression and an attention span deficit.

What to do about it, though? Kansier had wondered.

Well, Dr. Droessler had prescribed a treatment of shorter duty hours and some time spent in the bright fluorescent light of the transferred hydrogarden. Kansier agreed that the crew could not function indefinitely under such extreme operating conditions. When he had been given the order by the UESF Council to create a primary and secondary bridge crew, the selections had been made with only a temporary test flight in mind. But who knew now how long the ride was going to last? Kansier had been taught to conserve his supplies in survival situations, and that included preserving the well-being of his crew.

Dammit, why did everything have to be so difficult?

Already there had been a few isolated cases of space claustrophobia, and Droessler worried about the long-term effect their isolation would have upon increased outbreaks.

Taking all of his medical advice into consideration, Kansier decided the best solution would be to create a third bridge crew according to the standards of any Earth vessel. One evening, he and Zhdanov began to peruse the crew list in the Captain's quarters; for seven hours straight they discussed new candidates and the liabilities of decreasing the fighter squadrons' numbers, even though so far, the fighter squadrons had seen no actual combat against any enemies and had only done flight drills thus far.

Halfway through their meeting, Knightwood came by to report that there were enough of the blue and white alien flight suits for only one more bridge crew. If they decided to go ahead and create still another, then they would have to attach special badges to the facsimiles that had been created at the UESRC. This was no big deal, but mere information.

In the end, Kansier felt that despite the losses to the fighter squadrons, it would be best to create four rather than three bridge crews and shorten the duty hours to six out of every twenty-four. In case of future emergencies, he would then have a wider pool of experienced crew and not have to draw upon raw replacements. Situation solved.

The next morning following Kansier's announcement, nearly two hundred officers reported on the bridge and with instructions to observe the primary bridge crew. Though they had been trained while the _Discovery_ waited grounded at the Ural Base, they had not been exposed to the actual functioning of the _Discovery_. Many of the new crews were intimidated by the new responsibility they had been called on to take, but in due course, they adjusted to it.

Kansier was pleased.

In time, the addition of two new bridge crews greatly improved the disposition of the primary and secondary teams. Once their off-duty hours had been augmented with the complete independence of the new teams, they were able to spend more time on their own, and symptoms of fatigue declined. But Kansier had warned them that duty did not end away from the bridge—there were thousands of tasks needing to be carried out to make the _Discovery_ fit for a long-term living arrangement.

Knightwood's greatest fear now was that the food supply would run out.

The plants in the hydrogarden on board the Stargazer had been taken into one of the holding bays near the crew quarters and made into a kind of park that Zhdanov termed a "nature therapy" retreat. Though the garden conduced the recycling of oxygen, they had some artificial converters for that purpose if something happened to affect the plants on board. Water, too, and some materials were easily recycled. And Knightwood suspected the _Discovery_ itself contained some kind of atmospheric regulation devices, for her calculations posited implementing additional, necessary procedures to maintain the atmospheric cycles. Yet the atmosphere remained constant without any interference.

Who knew about the alien technology and how it regulated the atmosphere on board.

However, once the dehydrated rations ran out, owing to the small number of livestock on board, the crew would have to rely solely upon the plants as their food supply, and the Stargazer had only 9 cubic meters of Earth soil on board when it was sent out from Central City. Hydroponics alone was not producing an adequate supply to meet the demand.

In essence, they would all starve soon if something wasn't done to change the situation.

Finally Knightwood decided it was necessary to re-test the alien soil they had discovered in the holding bay near the crew quarters, part of something that might have been a playground for the aliens' children. Knightwood had come up with a plan to ameliorate the situation, and this plan involved using the stored soil.

To her gratification, the alien soil that they had removed from the playground harbored no detectable parasites, harmful microorganisms, or poisons. In her analysis, she found it not unlike Earth soil, though the mineral content was unusual, and there were strange nano-particles in it, but none damaging to humans. As an experiment, she then mixed a handful of Earth soil with a canisterful of the alien kind and planted several different kinds of seeds.

Before the crew had boarded the _Discovery_ , the recon scientists had figured out how to adjust the lighting of each room, to decrease the intensity of blue and white light and augment the other colors, creating a fluorescent beacon. They had even gone to the other extreme successfully, dimming the brightness of the room as they shifted the range of light into the infrared. A few months ago, Knightwood had given instructions to the new crew as to how to operate their lighting systems.

Now Knightwood set the lights in her living area for a twelve hour fluorescent period, to create comparable daylight hours for the seedlings while she was away in other parts of the ship.

Then—success!

After three days, one of the bean sprouts pushed through the soil, unfurling after another day. A week later, most of the seeds had developed into tiny plants which Knightwood examined for mutations or anomalies. However, after hours of circumspect study and experimentation, she braved the final test and ingested some of the sprouts reaching maturity.

Zhdanov wondered why Knightwood seemed so edgy that day, but he could not have known that she was fretting over the consequences of her private risk. Was she going to die horribly from some alien poison that could contaminate them all? For hours, Knightwood lingered near the newly created medical unit as if expecting some sudden affliction, but nothing happened to her. Zhdanov wasn't blind; the next morning he demanded an explanation of her behavior as Knightwood emerged from the examination room where Dr. Droessler had conducted the second series of tests on her vital signs in less than a week.

"I'm fine," Knightwood had insisted, and then explained what she had done.

When Knightwood, Zhdanov, and Cheung broke the news that the forgotten alien soil which had been removed to a distant Great Bay produced viable and innoxious vegetables, Kansier granted them permission to instigate Knightwood's solution. The team of scientists then recruited volunteers to collect as much of the unused Earth soil in the hydrogarden as possible and help them mix 100cc with each cubic meter of the alien kind.

They had a plan.

Each crew member, technician, and family was to receive a small canister of the mixture and a limited choice of seeds to grow. They would all grow their own food! And, at the end of the growing season, they would each get to keep half of what they had produced for themselves. Knightwood wanted everyone on board to have an incentive to produce high yields, and isolating the plants would itself be an experiment to determine what kind of growing conditions were ideal.

So everybody would stay alive if they grew their own food.

While Knightwood was busy cultivating a green thumb, Dr. Ilienko, one of Cheung's old comrades from the Ural Base science team, approached him with a problem that the maintenance crews and their families had been experiencing. Before the _Discovery's_ second test flight, the 234 children stationed on board with their parents had been tutored by a team from the Ural Base that had departed shortly before the second test flight. It had now been four months since any of the children had been given any schooling, and the maintenance crews were still too busy converting sections of the _Discovery_ for other uses to devote time to their children's education.

What to do about the children?

Cheung had been wondering when the maintenance teams might voice this particular problem, for it was not unexpected. Most of the crew had been formed with younger officers and new graduates from the Earth bases. But what the families of the technicians had put off and sacrificed in the short term for the crew's overall benefit could not remain neglected forever.

The scientific teams from Central City, the UESRC, and Yokohama Base had met during the second week to suggest future developments, knowing that life must eventually continue as it had on Earth, and that certain routine aspects of it should be restored. One of their proposals had been the establishment of a school, staffed by volunteers from among the fighter squadrons and bridge crews. Kansier, Cheung, and Zhdanov then approached several other candidates who might devote a few hours per week to the new school.

Forty days came and went, and there was still no sign of the Charon alien ship.

Kansier and his crew could only pray for their Earth.

* * * * *

Robert Forren's steady grey eyes were the kind that sought to seek out the secrets of others rather than reveal their own, Erin decided after some time in his company. Though in dealings with his patients he was nothing but patient and kind, when he met her from time to time, she began to notice more and more that he often scanned her features, replies, and comments for signs of her character.

"Are you enjoying the walk?" he would often ask. He seemed seldom to listen to simple replies, but was attentive to anything substantial. Having convinced himself at last that Erin's attitudes and sensibilities were as good as her face and form, he spoke more freely to her concerning his own fears and concerns for the future of all on board the ship and turned his attention to the doings of those around them.

"That man needs to stop drinking so much," Forren said one night as they were in the mess hall for a drink. As Erin had notived, Forren's eye was critical. But, his eyes were a mirror of little that he actually felt. He gave nothing away. Though his eyes often exposed his sometimes insensitive nature and a rigid mind that operated on prejudiced resolve and by consulting fixed impressions.

He was a hard man, but it was clear that he liked her.

Erin found over time and an acquaintance, that Forren's opinions, once formed, could not be altered—by her or anyone.

The only problem was that Erin didn't like to feel obliged to make others see the truth when they made errors in judgment. Even when he made comments about how wrong it had been to take the _Discovery_ from the Earth in the first place, and it should have been left where it was or handed back to the other aliens. Even then she kept silent.

Yet despite his opinions which Erin did not share, Forren was a good man, sensitive to the sufferings of others, and more than willing to give whatever was required by others for their comfort. On the whole, she found she liked him. She even admired him, admired his nearly unswerving goodness and courteousness.

"Can I get you something, sweet?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"A cranberry shandy, if they still have them," she replied. "Thank you."

"Good, two minutes."

However, much as she had grown to enjoy Forren's company, Erin sensed she could not be her entire self around Dr. Forren. At no time was she unaware of what he thought morally reprehensible, and so she avoided offending him. Whenever they met, she curbed her independence and wilder tendencies, forced herself to be her noblest self since he valued that about her.

"Why am I trying to impress him?" Erin often wondered about this. "Why do I care for his good opinion?" she wondered.

She knew she was afraid of her own true nature and abilities, and wondered what it meant she was. She knew she behaved in reaction to her own fears about herself. But why did she want to please him? To feel happy about herself, she had started to act according to _his_ principles, aspired to live up to _his_ ideas and standard of conduct, which sometimes did match her own natural inclinations. But, she was submitting to his ways to please him, and it was making her suffer on the inside in some nebulous way.

"Here you are," he said, giving her the shandy. "Triumph, they still have them." And he smiled at her with a genuine smile.

Forren admired Erin inside and out, for as a man, he was highly aware of her physical beauty, yet he regarded it as something which he must vouchsafe and shield, lest it lead down a road of vices and conceit. She was still young, no doubt still impressionable; he seemed to forget what she did on board and how that had made her hard.

"You look lovely tonight," he said. "Something about what you've done to your hair."

"Thank you." She said, taking a sip of her drink. "I had a rough day."

"I am sorry to hear that," he looked pained.

"Not much to be done, but I thank you for the drink and the company."

"Yes, I had a few cases this afternoon of hysteria in some patients. It does become mind-numbingly difficult to deal with it."

"Oh, that is awful," she said. "I hope it gets better over time."

"As do I."

Some time after the two had become friends, Kansier's new shifts were set into motion. Dr. Forren had told her he found he had many more patients coming to him and had far less time for social visits. So this was a special night, where they had planned to meet many days in advance.

Erin didn't know whether or not to be sad about losing her new friend to other demands; but perhaps it was for the better. Forren seemed rather to be looking for something she could not give—her mind, heart, and body as a complete package, necessary for the woman who was to one day adorn his life. Their friendship was to him, perhaps, paving the way to a closer tie. It was in fact, a courtship, but a prolonged one under the current circumstances.

This made her a trifle sad. She was lonely, but she knew already that she could never love him, even if she had not already given her heart to Scott Dimitriev, for Robert was a man who lived by simple truths and prejudice, and he preferred to be with someone he could control, while at the core, she was wild.

And what was she, anyway? She wasn't an ordinary human being, but a creature with strange abilities: telepathy, telekinesis, and more powers she couldn't define. So where did she belong? When would she knew the answers, she wondered. When could she begin to live an ordinary human life? All these attempts to be normal were wearing her down and making her feel even lonlier.

* * * * *

Erik crouched behind the metal shrub, holding his laser gun steady, listening for any signs of movement, but all he could hear was the loud pounding of his own heart. In the darkened hold, the light of his gun's power display was clearly visible, so he held it close to his body to keep the gun from giving away his location.

"Keep still," he thought to himself.

The small cargo hold had been cleared of supplies more than a month ago and had been recently converted into a kind of training obstacle course for the crew; artificial ground and terrain had been fashioned from scrap materials to create a rugged terrestrial landscape. During the first shift, the training ground was used by large groups, but at this time, during the later shifts that once corresponded to the night shift of Earth, a time still less favored by those who had yet to grow accustomed to the idea that there was no longer any "day" or "night" in any real sense, it became a favorite among the off-duty officers as a hand-to-hand combat drill room.

_Where did that bastard go?_ Erik wondered, peering around the artificial shrub into the darkness, but the slight movement was enough for his opponent; a random laser beam shot through the air beside him, missing Erik completely, but his invisible assailant was more persistent.

Thud, thud...

Faint running footsteps came closer, and Erik ducked behind the shrub as another beam passed over his head.

_Sewee_ ... the beam sizzled through the air.

Then there was a moment of dangerous silence; in that silence, Erik recognized his vulnerability. He tried to keep very still and his breathing steady as his eyes darted around, looking for any sign that his attacker was approaching, but he was unprotected on three sides.

Crunch...

Suddenly, he heard the loud crunching step on one of the smaller shrubs on his left; Erik jumped away, avoiding the ensuing laser blast aimed in his direction, rolling out and coming up on one knee, his own gun ready to fire. Yet his assailant had already taken cover. Erik took a tentative step forward, towards the sound—and then felt the laser beam ricochet off his uniform.

"I got you this time, Ross!" a voice echoed within the hold.

"Yeah, yeah," Erik said, pulling off his helmet. "Lights on," he called, activating the Earth-installed lighting system.

"You move around a lot," Kusao said with a laugh, pulling off his own helmet. "But I finally started to figure out how you operate," he added with a hint of triumph in his voice.

"Well, you're the only one who's ever beaten me before." Erik admitted, smiling, putting his laser gun back into his belt.

"You know, you look tired, Ross," Kusao said, shaking his head.

"I am. Very. Haven't been sleeping much of late."

"So, now that we're even, why don't we quit and head back for a drink?"

"Ah, you're just suggesting that because you happened to win this time," Erik laughed. "But, I have to admit, I've had enough for one day. My feet were starting to fall asleep behind that shrub."

"Good luck for me."

"I hear the Maroon team lounge is open during the night—sorry, third shift—if you want to get something to drink." He suggested.

"Actually, I think I've got a better idea," Kusao said conspiratorially. "Knightwood's giant hothouse isn't far from here."

"No, it's just down the corridor." Erik agreed. "What's your game about?

"A nice, juicy tomato sounds pretty good right about now, doesn't it? Come on, Ross, when was the last time you had one?"

Erik thought back. "I can't remember," he said, scratching his cheek, clearly warming to the idea. "But how do you suggest we get past the guard?"

"We don't," Kusao said, shaking his head. "They don't have enough guards in this section, so there's just one, and he makes rounds to check the sealed sections around here every hour."

"How do you know?"

"I helped Knightwood transplant all of the tomato seedlings when we were grounded at the Ural Base, so I figure she owes me one," Kusao smiled. "Come on, Knightwood won't miss a few."

"All right, but if we get caught, remember it was _your_ idea," Erik said. "Sneakthief."

"Then we'd better go now, because the guard will be on his way back in a few minutes," Kusao said. For a moment they looked at each other, wavering, judging the other. A second later they both broke into a run.

* * * * *

"Aren't you going to stop them, Knightwood?" Cheung said, looking at the image in the monitor. He and Knightwood had been working in one of the bio-labs since lunch, trying to figure out why the Earth-made fertilizers were having little effect on plants grown in the alien soil. Knightwood had gone to check on her room over the vidigital monitors to see if anyone had stopped by in the past twelve hours and had moved on to check over the other systems, when the monitor confirmed the presence of two unauthorized persons in her hydrogardens.

"No, I'm not going to do anything," Knightwood said, shaking her head. "Let them have their fun."

"That's Ross and Kusao, if I'm not mistaken," Cheung said, peering over her shoulder at the image in the relay monitor.

"Yes, it is," Knightwood agreed. "But I'd rather see them pulling harmless stunts than fighting with each other. And Kusao helps me a lot."

"Maybe," Cheung conceded, but his mind was on other things. He had known Knightwood a long time, yet he had never seen her so depressed. "I hate to pry, but is something bothering you?" He asked a moment later, as Knightwood began tapping a fiber rod against the table absently.

"Something wrong with me?" Knightwood echoed, looking up. "Not exactly." She said, shaking her head. "Can we finish things up tomorrow?" She asked suddenly.

Cheung peered at her, his eyes wrinkling in contemplation.

"Of course." He nodded, then headed over to take the last measurements. "Now we're set until tomorrow," he said cheerfully, but Knightwood only offered him a weak smile.

"You know, it was my father's birthday today," she said suddenly, turning around.

"I see," Cheung nodded. "So that's it. Thinking about the Earth has put you in a state, has it? So, didn't you get along with him?"

Knightwood shook her head. "Oh no, nothing like that. We were very close. Maybe I didn't turn out the way he expected, but he always used to say he was glad I hadn't," Knightwood said, with a reminiscent half-smile. "He liked surprises, and I was always giving him one or another."

"I'm sure you did," Cheung agreed, letting a smile into the corners of his mouth. "So tell me, what's really bothering you, Knightwood?"

"What?" Knightwood looked up again, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"You heard me."

"Nothing." Knightwood said, exasperated.

"You're not yourself," Cheung countered, folding his arms across his chest. "Ordinarily, I'd leave you to sort it out on your own, but somehow I get the feeling that you'd put it off until later. And you've been distant for hours. Whatever's been bothering you, it doesn't seem to be something easy to solve or you would have been able to by now. Besides if you continue on this way, if could negatively affect the crew."

"All right," Knightwood sighed. "I do have a lot on my mind. I'll agree to talk about it if only to prove to you that there's a lot you don't know about me."

"I'm listening," Cheung said.

Knightwood gave him a stern glance. "My father raised me and my little brother by himself when my mother left us," she said. "We lived in New Cambridge, not far from the ancient ruins."

"So your father was a scholar?" Cheung asked.

Knightwood shook her head. "Everyone assumes that, but my father was a simple technician."

"Oh," Cheung said, adjusting his arms over his chest.

"He worked for the city on maintaining the dome, overseeing the automated machinery among other things," Knightwood continued. "Well, until he was paralyzed in a construction accident."

"But—didn't he receive medical treatment?" Cheung asked, confused now.

"Oh, yes," Knightwood said, nodding. "But it was a severe injury, and it took years for the treatment therapies to work. Dad never really was able to walk very well afterward."

"So who took care of you while he was recovering?"

"We had several different nurses, but they all left after a while." Knightwood shrugged. "My brother Sarn and I went to school, but actually I took care of Dad when I came home."

"That's a lot of responsibility for a young person." Cheung said. "Perhaps too much."

Knightwood shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "But it couldn't be helped. Anyway, my father gave me something far more valuable that I ever gave him. He made me believe in myself, that I could do anything I set my mind to. It wasn't easy being taken seriously as a bio-chemical scholar coming from a poor, humble background, you know."

"I can imagine," Cheung agreed.

"Oh, I'm not saying it's ever easy for anyone," Knightwood insisted, "but—I was just glad that I learned what hard work and determination can achieve. It was my father who taught me that. I just can't help thinking..."

"What?" Cheung prompted.

"I don't have a clue what I'm doing anymore," she admitted.

"Is that all that's bothering you?" Cheung laughed. "You're afraid of failing now that the pressure is on, is that it?"

"Bingo," Knightwood said. "What can you do when there are too many unknowns?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Cheung shook his head. "Sorry I haven't any better advice to give. We're all doing the best we can, but sometimes it's better to know when to conserve one's energy, my friend," he advised.

* * * * *

"They look pretty good if I do say so myself," Erin said, regarding the large tomatoes growing on a plant in the living area. She resisted the urge to pick one and gave the plant more water, then turned up the heat gauge on the base of the deep holding tray to the correct temperature mark.

Erin looked up as the door swished open. Ho-ling Chen had just returned from duty in the third bridge crew.

"Hey, how is that tomato coming along?" she asked, as she noticed Erin standing near their holding tray. Erin, Ho-ling, and Nariko had decided to combine their soil rations to grow larger plants together; the other two roommates had individual dishes growing onions and carrots, and sugar beets.

"I could eat it all right now, if we didn't have to share," Erin laughed. Ho-ling dropped her helmet to the floor and came over to where Erin was standing.

"Wow. That thing is about to overtake the tray."

"I know. Knightwood said the plants were growing faster than normal in the hybrid soil. And they are huuuge."

"Actually," Ho-ling began in a more serious tone, collapsing on to one of the chairs, "I meant to tell you that while you were teaching earlier—this morning?—or the first shift, anyway, Erik came by to see you."

"Oh?" Erin had moved on to the lettuces in the wide, more shallow tray beside the tomato plant and began to water them.

"So, where are Jianming and Nicole?"

"They left half an hour ago for the communications center."

"Oh, that's right."

"Why did you ask?"

"Ever since they were transferred to the fourth shift, I keep missing them, so I thought we could all go to a rec room for a re-match of yesterday's game. Oh well, maybe tomorrow. I suppose I should give my muscles and joints time to recover, anyway. By the way," she added, "You'll never believe who's getting married next month."

"If I won't believe it, then you may as well go ahead and tell me," Erin said, shrugging. "Another marriage," she whistled.

"Well, since you put it that way, our old friend Hans has invited all of the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks to his wedding."

"Hans?"

"I ran into Karrin Chan on my way back here and heard the news from her. Do you remember meeting Lieutenant Helen Sung at one of the parties the group in G538b had the second week of training?"

"Actually, no."

"She was one of pilots from Space Station Gabriel that arrived late."

"Sorry, I don't remember."

"Anyway, I only hope all of the former Blue Stripes Sky Hawks will be given short leave to witness the occasion. I must admit, I never saw Hans as the marrying type," Ho-ling laughed.

"Neither did I."

"At least he's getting on with his life."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Ho-ling said, shrugging dismissively.

"No, you brought it up, so tell me what you meant," Erin insisted. "Why are you angry?"

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong with you then? Half the women in this ship would give anything to be in your shoes, and you don't even care."

"What are you talking about, Ho-ling?"

"I'm talking about Erik. Erik is interested in you, Erin. He's smart, he's handsome, he's got a great sense of humor—and you don't give a damn! Honestly, I don't understand you. You'd rather be alone and miserable and make the rest of us miserable, too. Or dally your time away with that doctor whom everyone knows isn't right for you."

"Why do you care so much about Erik's happiness?"

"Because!" Ho-ling's voice approached a shout. "If it weren't for you or Nathalie, I would have gone after Erik myself a long time ago," she blurted suddenly.

"Ho-ling—"

"I knew I shouldn't have told you." Ho-ling sighed. "Look, it's not your fault how you feel, but I can't help the way I feel, either. Anyway, it doesn't matter," she said, exhaling loudly. "He'd never care about me, even if he didn't love you. And anyway, I'm just about over him, now."

"You aren't."

"Maybe not, but I've got a date."

"Don't tell me—Lieutenant Davidson from the fourth bridge crew?!"

"You must be psychic." Ho-ling forced a laugh.

"It doesn't take much to figure out. He's been asking around about you."

"Well, anyway, he asked me to meet me for dinner in the hydrogarden after his shift, and I finally said yes. I thought I didn't really care, but my stomach's been in knots since he left."

"You'll get over it." Erin said. "You always do."

"I thought so, too," Ho-ling agreed. "But tell that to my stomach, would you? Erin—"

"Yes?"

"Will you take a little bit of friendly advice?"

"What kind?" Erin asked, suspicious.

"I know you don't like talking about things you can't solve, but this is something I think you know you have to do."

"Okay then, what is your advice?"

"I think you should talk to Erik, or at least tell him how you feel. Sometimes a good confrontation clears the mind, you know." Ho-ling said. "Though I can't say I don't wish you'd change your mind, for his sake. Either way, make a decision. Stop putting things off and give us all a break. Tell him he has no chance, and let him go or give him a chance!"

"Ho-ling, I can't love Erik, when I already care about someone else. It's just not possible."

"Someone else?" Ho-ling said, intrigued.

"You might as well know, I suppose." Erin shrugged. "I'm still in love with Scott."

"Not—Dimitriev?" Ho-ling responded, stepping back in shock. "Nathalie said something about that a while back, but I didn't think she was serious. Honestly, Erin, I never would have guessed. You two don't even talk to each other. And he's a cold fish, totally. Hard and cold. Not right for you, my friend."

"I know."

"Oh, Erin..."

"You don't think it will work out the way I want it to, do you?"

"Honestly, no," Ho-ling admitted. "But then I'm not him. Who knows how he feels."

Erin's face darkened. "You're probably right and I haven't got a hope he cares about me at all, but—don't you ever feel that certain things were _meant_ to be?"

"Do I believe in _destiny_?" Ho-ling didn't laugh. She stopped to consider this, her brows knitting together. "Sometimes I don't know, but I'm inclined not to."

"Oh."

"Random things happen. Chaos reigns. Entropy increases. You've just got to look at the statistics and figure out what's going on and what's in the offing."

"You may be right." Erin conceded.

"Erin, does he really mean so much to you?"

"Yes."

"But how? Why, for the love of God?"

Erin sighed.

"How can you love someone and never say a word? Dimitriev's just not worth it!"

"You're wrong, Ho-ling!" Erin cried, rising to anger. "Because he's worth everything to _me_!"

"Whoah—I'm not your enemy."

"I love every least thing about him."

"God Erin, you're not being yourself." Ho-ling stared. Since when did Erin ever _feel_ anything, or so vocally!?

"What do you mean?"

"You're being so dramatic. Really, it's unlike you. But—I'm sorry." Ho-ling tried to be tactful. "I honestly didn't know. I didn't mean to say anything against Major Dimitriev, but you know I don't want to see you with someone who can't appreciate you. And you know he doesn't ever seem to care anything particular about you. Honestly, I'll never understand you!"

"I don't understand myself, either."

"Well, why haven't you done something?"

"I have. I told him everything."

"You _told_ him?!" Ho-ling repeated.

"I made a fool of myself. I confessed that I loved him. And he wants nothing to do with me."

"So then you gave up."

"And what else could I do?" Erin's voice was strangely calm.

"Nothing, I guess. But how can you be so cold around him, if you still care? I can't imagine he'd ever suspect you still do."

"Well, Ho-ling," Erin paused, sitting down, "I heard once that if you really love something, you have to let it go. If it comes back to you, then you can accept it with all of your heart. But if it flies away, it was never yours to begin with."

"Oh, Erin. It's hard, isn't it? Putting on a brave face all the time, when you really want to cry. Nothing ever turns out as you expect or want it to, does it?"

"But there's no time for personal tears, as Zhdanov used to say." Erin said stonily.

"Someday you will, though, Erin. You'll cry. We can fool ourselves a long time that we're too tough to cry, but there comes a time when each of us has to. It's one thing that makes us human. Remember, animals can't shed tears. There's a reason human beings can."

"Well, I need time to think, now..." Erin said. Ho-ling nodded, and started to work on the room.

A few minutes later, as they were tidying the room, an alert tone sounded, followed speedily by Colonel Kansier's rich baritone.

"All fighter squadron members and off-duty bridge crews report to Great Bay. Alien cruisers are attempting to breach electromagnetic shield near main engine thrusters with concentrated force. Dispatch all fighters to defend the area. Alien vessel detected at a distance of twenty-five thousand kilometers. We are firing anti-thrusters to decelerate for confrontation. Eleven minutes, sixteen seconds to stationary. Repeat, all fighters report to Great Bay for deployment."

* * * * *

"Ah shit, my nerves are wracked already!" Scott gave a quick shake of his head.

Dimitriev's plane taxied slowly down the runway behind the last of the Maroon team's fighters. Someone had suggested that he should remain behind with the other high-ranking officers, but the order had been given for everyone in the off-duty bridge crews to retaliate, and he wasn't about to sit this one out. The fewer the number, the less likely it might be that the other fighters would make back inside safely, and the aliens already had an advantage in the superiority of their small cruisers and fighter planes.

"That's better," he thought.

Of course, the _Discovery_ had to decelerate for battle, or else the slower Earth fighters necessarily deployed for its defense would have been left behind forever out in the vastness of space. It was a good thing that the alien designers of the _Discovery_ had created such strong defensive shields and shifting hull plating, for the ship was an open target in the long moments it took to safely decelerate for battle. The only problem was that the Earthlings had no idea how long the shields would last, and if the Charon alien's superior fighters would one day be capable of destroying the entire ship. There was nothing to do but stop and deploy the fighters to hold them off.

Nothing to do but wait and see....

Ancient naval strategy did not work in space; gone were the days when great battleships might make evasive maneuvers while their smaller ships fought off the enemy's ships or tried suicidal runs against the larger enemy battleship. In space, there was the hunter and its prey; the chase never ended, but for these brief skirmishes when the prey was obliged to make use of its defenses to secure an escape. Though both the _Discovery_ and the Charon aliens' mothership had strong shields and defenses, the aliens were using a beam to disrupt the _Discovery_ 's shields, and each cruiser had to be picked off, one at a time, with fighters, as the crew hadn't yet figured out how to operate the _Discovery_ 's alien gun turrets and weapons systems.

Moments later Scott's plane arced around the _Discovery_ , heading towards the bow where the aliens had launched their attack.

Hundreds of _Discovery_ fighters had engaged the thousand-strong, lightening fast alien planes near the engine port, all of space a dangerous web of blue and white laser beams. The dark metal debris of destroyed ships littering the area glittered in the pale light as it danced in and out of the remaining planes, caught in the weak gravitational field surrounding the _Discovery_.

Short minutes of combat stretched on, and more Earth planes arrived. Though the _Discovery_ squadrons began to outnumber the aliens, Scott still felt as though the enemy had the upper hand. After all, their planes were capable of disrupting an electromagnetic field; who knew what other tricks the aliens had been saving.

Only one alien cruiser had thus far been dispatched. They were still attempting to breach the shields of the _Discovery._

Scott's monitor signaled him when the blue and white squadron appeared. Heading over towards them, he wove back through the deadly net of energy beams and took out two enemy ships that had paused to concentrate fire upon a singular point in the electromagnetic field. The Blue squadron pairs began to fan out to surround the aliens and block their retreat. Scott waited until he spotted one of the fighters showing exceptional maneuverability.

He checked his gauges; ah, it was Erin. Gradually, he worked his way closer to her fighter and helped her cut a line through the alien planes, defending her rear as she pushed forward into the thickest region of ships and laserfire. In a matter of seconds, she swiftly dealt death to the dozen or so fighters closest to the _Discovery_ that had been trying to rupture the field, her laser beams perfectly aimed through the cockpits in order to be absorbed by the electromagnetic field, instead of caroming off the hull of the alien ships into space. Scott had observed a few of the Earth fighters who had destroyed themselves in miscalculating the backfire of laserfire off the highly reflective hull of the enemy fighters and small cruisers.

_Watch out_ , he thought.

Then, without warning, the enemy shot through the ranks of the Earth fighters and into space towards the alien mothership, breaking off together as if one mind directed them. The speed of their retreat was too great for pursuit, and shortly, the Earth teams received an order to return to the Great Bay. Word arrived that the aliens were maintaining their distance. Scott watched his monitor as he formed up in the line back to the air lock; of the twelve hundred or so Earth planes that had been dispatched, one thousand and seventy three returned.

_Thank God, the aliens had retreated_! Scott though in relief.

Most of the squadron members were gathered at the side of the Stargazer when Scott stepped down from his plane's landing ladder. The teams were watching the two small cargo carriers that were being readied to quickly collect the precious metal debris floating around the _Discovery_ and bring it in for recycling. A moment later they were sent out, even though the last of the squadron had not yet returned.

Scott headed around the area reserved for incoming planes and joined the teams waiting to help unload the debris. The rest of the primary bridge crew were discussing what Zhdanov intended to do with the metal fragments, and if they could be used to recreate more fighters if necessary in the future. As Scott approached, Captain Kolesar hailed him and began a conversation, conjecturing reasons for the sudden attack.

"I wonder why they call off their own attacks when it doesn't even look as though they're losing the battle." Said Kolesar. "They really are a strange bunch."

"I can't agree with you more, but we're lucky they retreated." Agreed Dimitriev.

Captain Kolesar had been too uncomfortable to speak to the younger officers, feeling himself out of place amongst their chatter, and had been scanning the room for any sign of an upper-class officer. Though Major Dimitriev was closer to the younger officers in age, Kolesar saw Dmitriev as a superior officer, and never really thought about his age.

"I give us a year at most." Said Kolesar.

Dimitriev looked appauled. "This ship is tougher than it looks. We just have to keep away from them, not let them get too close."

"Well, at least we know that they are following us now and not attacking the Earth."

"I'll agree with that."

A few minutes later, the cargo ship carriers returned, followed by the last ten fighters that had remained behind to protect the unarmed transport vessels. An announcement came over the intercom that the _Discovery_ had begun to accelerate, and Kolesar excused himself and headed over to the unloading area to offer his directive assistance. Several minutes later, Scott turned his attention to the primary bridge crew and conducted a mental checklist, finding only a few missing faces among them.

_Ah, Shit!_ Suddenly he felt as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. His eyes bleared for a moment, and he found he had lost his train of thought. Around him, a few people had fallen to their knees, some were rubbing their heads as though they had been struck, and others wore the blank stares of confusion. Scott took a deep breath, but found he could hardly catch his breath.

Then, as he looked around, he saw Erin Mathieson staring at him, wide-eyed, when the announcement came over the intercom.

"Attention, crew. _Discovery_ has just executed another jump through a wormhole gate. Please don't be alarmed. All systems have returned to normal. Any crew experiencing unaccountable symptoms report to medical unit." Zhdanov's Ukrainian accent was unmistakable; Kansier was probably on his way to oversee the technicians assigned for recycling of on-board materials.

Scott made a mental note to remind the Captain that the man needed to take some more off-duty hours and get some sleep. Dimitriev knew for a fact he had been awake at least the last twenty-four hours during all of the four bridge crew shifts.

* * * * *

"Any sign of our friends?" Zhdanov asked Lieutenant Amina Johnson, one of the fourth bridge crew radar operators.

"No, sir."

"Estimated distance traveled?" Knightwood directed at the crew in general on the bridge, sending hands flying over consoles as each member of the crew attempted to calculate their present position along the known constellations and galaxies once charted from the Earth.

"We have too much radio wave interference to get an accurate measurement. And we're registering infrared activity off the meter—"

"Sir, I think you'd better take a look at this," one of the gravitational scanning operators spoke in a forcibly controlled, even tone.

"What in the—" Cheung began, but broke off.

Without being asked, the same operator had activated the device to retract the forward viewport hull plate that had been lowered during the previous battle.

"Call Kansier," Knightwood finally managed. "Oh my God, it's a planet!"

In the image before them, a planet rotated slowly on its axis: a haze of white eddies scudded across blue seas, and then through a break in the vapors, the features of a greenish-grey landscape appeared in the pale light of a rising white star.

_Vulgare amici nomen, sed rara est fides._ Nothing is more common than the name of friend, nothing more rare than true friendship.

—Socrates

### Chapter Six

"What's going on?" Ho-ling shouted. She, Erin, and several of the former Blue Stripes Sky Hawks and their friends were on their way back to their quarters when they passed an observation viewport. They had taken an elevation device outside the Great Bay in order to pass through the more scenic upper levels of the _Discovery_ where several of the hydrogardens, observations ports, and relaxation lounges had been constructed.

"It looks like a planet we've come to!" Someone said out loud.

Several other crew members already stood frozen before the sight in the left side of the viewport. No report had been relayed from the bridge, and yet here they were unexpectedly in orbit around a planet of greenish-grey continents separated by channels of blue ocean. The team rushed to the window, watching as the view slowly rotated, divesting greater oceans and more drifting continents.

Finally, Kansier's voice confirmed that this was not a space sickness-induced hallucination.

"Attention all crew members. We seem to have escaped our alien pursuers for the time being. Our navigators are still unable to confirm our present position, but our measurements indicate that we have passed into an elliptical galaxy. As many of you may have already discovered, we have been brought into orbit around what appears to be an inhabitable planet. We are now conducting atmospheric tests to determine if it is safe to dispatch a recon team. Primary bridge crew report in twenty minutes. That is all," Kansier's voice cut off.

"How long will we have to put up with these kinds of sudden changes and occurrences before we get used to it?" James Mixsell sighed.

"Hey, Erin, Kusao," Karrin Chan called across the others, "let us know what you find out about the planet when you get back from the bridge." Erin met her gaze and nodded.

"We'll meet those of you who can make it during the second shift tomorrow," Kusao suggested.

Erin stared out at the planet below, her eyes narrowing. As she focused on the large island continent that had just appeared, it seemed to draw closer to her. She perceived rivers flowing down the range of mountains that had captured her interest and the faintest texture of the vegetation that made the planet green.

"Tired, Erin?" Ho-ling asked, looking concerned. "Don't tell me you didn't sleep during the second shift."

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about me—you've got other things to do, like getting ready to meet lieutenant Davidson for dinner, and you've only got twenty minutes."

"You're right," Ho-ling agreed. "Come on, everyone, keep moving," she shouted, and the team moved away from the viewport towards an interior corridor.

* * * * *

"Distance of fourth planet to local star is 446 million kilometers, sir." Lieutenant Dunovan said, reading the analysis relayed to his console. "Equatorial diameter is approximately 14,500 kilometers, average density 5.4 grams per cubic centimeter. Neutrino tomograph processing. Surface gamma radiation .17 % higher than on Earth. Escape velocity about 12.1 km/s, no moon detected, but there are hundreds of small spherical metallic satellites above and below us, creating a metallic sphere around the planet. Should I begin an analysis of them, sir?"

"Yes. Keep us informed," Kansier said, nodding.

"Sir, my console indicates we are currently orbiting within the proton belt of the planet's magnetosphere at a distance of 3,600 kilometers," lieutenant Minehart finished the last of the reports.

"Good. Set a bioscan, and begin magnifications of the surface," Kansier ordered.

"So, it appears that this rock is inhabitable," Knightwood said to Kansier as the crew continued the analysis. "Except for the slightly greater atmospheric density and hyperbaric air pressure." She shrugged. "But we have no idea what kind of microorganisms are down there, and if they're dangerous. Still want to risk a recon team?" She asked.

"As you pointed out, there may be edible vegetation on the surface, not to mention an unlimited supply of free soil," Kansier responded, still looking through the viewport. "We need those things. And the _Discovery's_ air locks sanitize everything that comes into the ship, that we do know. That and we could send a team through and know that we won't contaminate the planet with our microorganisms, either, in case you're worried about harming the native lifeforms," he added.

"I just wanted to be sure that it was your final decision," Knightwood added. "Zhdanov and I want to be a part of the recon team."

Kansier turned around to regard her. He would have called her courage recklessness if he didn't know her as well as he did; her many years of experience at the UESRC analyzing alien systems and biochemistry was truly invaluable to him, to the survival of all on board.

"All right." Kansier nodded and smiled. "Pick a team and take one of the cargo shuttles with a fighter escort." Kansier turned around as three tones sounded, and the automatic doors to either side of the Central Command Room swished open. The primary bridge crew entered and moved to relieve the fourth crew.

Knightwood turned to Zhdanov and the two began to confer over names and suggestions.

"Colonel, bioscan reports high level of activity." Lieutenant Minehart had continued the operations already in progress. "Oh my god—sir, I've just received magnifications. I've got a positive identification of a large terrestrial city. Actually, I've picked up thousands of them, but the biggest seems to cover most of the island continent."

"What?!" Kansier exclaimed, and Knightwood and Zhdanov rushed over with him to the lieutenant's console.

"Bring up the image." Kansier said after a slight pause.

A great reticular city appeared in the holomonitor, radiating from a domed central tower their estimates confirmed at just over two thousand meters high with a radius of seven hundred meters. Possible pedestrian lanes circled the tower in rings at intervals of thirty meters, intersected by lanes radiating from the tower every six degrees. The lanes were just above ground level but were covered by an impermeable half-cylinder metallic sheath. In between each of the lanes rose high, strangely shaped multi-colored buildings, every other building topped by a small dome fashioned at the greatest possible diameter within the polygons.

"Has our presence here been detected by the indigenous lifeforms?" Kansier directed at the communications console.

"I don't believe so, sir. We're not receiving any direct communications from the planet below, but I'm picking up thousands of different signals." Lieutenant Sekuwan Fox, a short woman with intelligent grey eyes, removed her sound projection helmet to speak. "I was listening to several of the transmissions, but obviously they don't make any kind of sense. I'm imprinting them into memory so that we can attempt a translation later."

"Good God," Zhdanov whistled. "More aliens!"

"Sir, the engine room unit is reporting unusual particle activity between the electromagnetic and magnetic fields," one of the other communications specialists interrupted. "They're guessing it's some kind of radiation stabilizer, but it's—well, it seems to be canceling out the gravitational disturbances of _Discovery_ in this area."

"An invisible shield that masks gravitational waves?" Zhdanov mused aloud. Kansier and Knightwood turned to him, their eyes alight with similar excitement.

"How does this ship know to protect us and mask our presence here?" Knightwood shook her head. She had wasted countless hours pondering this same fruitless question. _And why did Discovery bring us here in the first place?_

"Sir, with your permission, I'd like to join the recon team," Erin Mathieson interrupted, now standing by her console.

"I'm afraid I can't honor your request," Kansier said evenly. "I've given recon team selection over to Knightwood and Zhdanov."

Knightwood glanced up and over at where Erin had risen, her hands balled at her sides, her head slightly bowed. As usual, no expression appeared on her face, but her eyes betrayed her. Knightwood recognized the expression from nearly a year before, when the Blue Stripe Sky Hawk squadron had entered the _Discovery_ for the first time. It was fear stifled by urgency. Yet, Knightwood thought, now was not the time for heroics—but was that what this request was about? She wondered in spite of herself. Knightwood suppressed a sigh and decided, not for the first time, to include the young lieutenant on this one.

"Request accepted, lieutenant Mathieson. I was going to include you, anyway. Sir, we've already decided to take a few of the primary bridge crew, including Mathieson, Dimitriev, Kusao, and Kim-Han. I'll call up the others to meet us in the Great Cargo Bay in ten minutes."

"Good luck, my friends," Kansier extended a hand to Knightwood and Zhdanov. Scott watched them, feeling anxious. He was just rising from his chair, the radio frequency already set to summon his relief navigator on the second bridge crew. Then he looked to the door where Erin Mathieson waited, also watching the scientists, and anxiety gave way to curiosity.

* * * * *

"How long do you think before the aliens on the planet detect our presence?" Scott Dimitriev asked Zhdanov inside the shuttle a few minutes after the recon team had launched.

"We hope they won't detect us at all. We've silenced all of our transmissions and Cheung has set us on an approach vector to take us to the most remote location possible. Since they aren't expecting us, we don't think they'll send out any interceptive forces to examine our landing point until we're long gone."

"But that's what the fighters are for—in case we run into trouble," Lieutenant Koenig interrupted.

"Well—yes, but we should avoid contact if possible." Zhdanov looked ahead to where Knightwood sat, engaged in conversation. "We don't know how technologically advanced the aliens here are, but from the technology we've observed, I'd say they're highly intelligent. Those metallic satellites we detected were probably made by them, and they may even be inhabited, just like our own Space Station Gabriel. And we don't want to provoke a confrontation with an advanced species."

Zhdanov paused, his features pensive. "If we allow ourselves to tamper with their civilization, we would culpable of interference, like the Charon aliens on the Earth. So we must go in and return swiftly and stealthily. We'll find out soon enough if the vegetation and soil could sustain us. If so, the samples will not take much longer to collect. Meanwhile, you should all appreciate the view. After atmospheric entry, you'll be too busy for sightseeing."

"You know it." Agreed Dmitriev. "I'd like to get home as soon as possible." The craft achieved entry smoothly thanks to the high quality of heat shields, stabilizers, and friction distributors of the much used cargo shuttle. A moment later, the thrusters ignited and wing flaps extended, bringing the craft to a soft landing on a field not far from an area of dense vegetation. By luck, a few of the Ural Base technicians had experience as cargo shuttle pilots and had volunteered to remain with the shuttle while the recon team departed.

The fighter squadrons touched down in between the vegetation and the cargo shuttle in order to safeguard both areas while the recon team headed towards the foliage.

"I can feel the slight increase in gravity," Amina Johnson observed, lifting the extra weight of her feet; but the team was not daunted by it. Part of their training had been movement through extreme gravity variations, in case the gravitational device of their assigned starship was affected by enemy fire.

"My monitor shows a temperature of twenty-nine degrees Celsius here," Zhdanov said over the Earth-built communicators installed in the soundproof alien uniforms they had adopted.

"Is this more like grass below our feet, or moss, or lichens do you think?" Lieutenant Beisert, a short, lanky, dark-eyed blond, asked no one in particular.

"Hmmm." Knightwood knelt down to obtain a sample and examined the short root structure of the piece.

"Well, I can't say for sure, but I'd say—neither. I have no idea." She finally admitted with an amused laugh.

"Let's see what the bioscan tells us," Zhdanov said and stopped a moment to activate the device and squeezed a drop of vascular juice out of the plant-like sample and onto the analysis sensor. Then, snapping off what appeared to be a complete module, he opened the scanning tray and placed the piece inside for further analysis. Ten seconds passed while the machine went through its memory files.

"Interesting. It doesn't exactly meet the profile of a flowering plant, but the bioscan has determined some kind of reproductive cycle not unlike the angiosperms of Earth." He said. "There is a definite seed in one of the protective buds, but the endosperm contains four sets of chromosomes, not three. However, it's definitely not edible, at least by human standards."

"Oh, I was hoping it would be," said Knightwood. "Well, that's one answer already."

After an extensive search of the area, the team swept further out into the foliage, dividing into groups of three to search for food, pools of water, and other resources. None of the vegetation grew above three meters in height, and the stems of most of the plants twisted and branched only a meter or so above the ground, like denser and thicker versions of vine plants of Earth.

Further into the foliage, the team came across taller, more vertical specimens that Knightwood saw as this planet's alternative to trees, though without the woody stems found on Earth. _No easy building materials,_ she thought. _How had the inhabitants survived and developed without wood for fuel, for construction?_ She wondered. Then she reminded herself that according to calculations of the system's planetary orbits, this planet's climate remained more or less temperate throughout the year.

No branches extended from the bright green stalks, but v-shaped nodules dotted the waxy-looking skin at even intervals. At the very top and apical meristem of this tree, they could only see under the wide, inverted umbrella-shaped growth.

"Here, open the analyzer, would you?" Knightwood said to Erin. "I have my hands full." Erin complied. Then while Knightwood and Erin fed samples to the analyzer, Kusao glanced up and down the ten meter plant. Quietly he stepped forward, lifting his foot to the first knee level nodule and testing it. Five seconds passed as it held his weight, and Kusao reached his hand to the next nodule, grasping it on the tips of his fingers as he looked for another foothold.

Knightwood didn't notice his actions until Kusao had climbed three-quarters of the way up the tree.

"Lieutenant, be careful," she called, watching nervously as the young officer reached the "flower" and jumped, catching the edge on his fingertips and pulling himself to a standing position.

"Wow!" he shouted to the group below.

"What does it look like up there?" Knightwood called, full of curiosity.

"It's a great view," Kusao laughed, looking out at the canopy of trees.

"Anything else?" Knightwood asked, shaking her head at him.

"Yeah." Kusao called down to them. "But it doesn't exactly look like a flower to me. More like a giant cauliflower. Make that a giant nut-colored cauliflower. I like it."

"Kusao!" Knightwood called.

"If I can just—" he paused, drawing out a knife from the holster of his uniform and cutting into the center. "That's it," he called. "Catch."

Knightwood reached out both arms to catch the orange-sized specimen that fell to the ground.

"How much of that is up there?" Erin asked as Knightwood put the sample through the analyzer.

"A lot," Kusao answered from above, gazing over the basin and tallying the area mentally. "That's about 5% of the total area. I just pulled out a bit from the center. It doesn't take much to get it out."

"Ha!" Knightwood suddenly exclaimed. "Completely digestible by human beings, but the damned thing can't figure out what it tastes like," Knightwood laughed. "Erin, call the others and tell them what to look for. On second thought, tell them to rendezvous at our position. Meanwhile, we'll need to figure out a better way of getting to the top. We don't want to leave any evidence that we were here. Lieutenant Kusao, exactly how do you plan on getting down from there?"

"I was hoping that would come to me later," he laughed.

* * * * *

An hour later, the team had collected half a ton of the edible "plant" that Kusao had discovered. Zhdanov and Dimitriev had located a spring of fresh water near the lower vegetation and had sent a signal to the cargo shuttle to locate their position. They had nearly finished filling one of the liquid canisters when Erin hailed them with Knightwood's message.

The cargo shuttle arrived at the rendezvous point ten minutes later than the others, who had already retrieved the cable guns from their fighter planes. One by one, the officers climbed the nearby stalks and loosened the edible matter until the cargo shuttle arrived with its elevation platform.

"So much for keeping a lid on our presence," Knightwood sighed, watching as the cargo shuttle backed up to another stalk, flattening a group of vines in the process.

"But we need the food supply," Han-Kim observed without glancing up, still cleaning his knife.

"Has the base sent another cargo shuttle yet?" Zhdanov suddenly appeared from behind the group.

"It should arrive in a few minutes," Knightwood offered him a tired smile.

"Good. This one's almost ready to go. That's the last one. We'll have to fly back in our fighter planes and give the second shuttle some air cover on the way back." As Zhdanov spoke, the last load descended on the elevation platform and disappeared into the cargo shuttle. The loading ramp retracted, and the doors pulled together.

"Good job, lieutenant," Zhdanov extended his hand to Kusao as the shuttle lifted into the air.

"Just a hunch, sir," Kusao shrugged. "I figured we'd need the hardest thing to reach," he laughed.

"Knightwood," Erin called nervously, her ears alert, her body suddenly tense.

"Hmmm?" Knightwood turned to her questioningly, but a moment too late.

A group of strange-looking aliens had surrounded the party.

* * * * *

The Orian officers shuddered to interrupt The Great Leader's reverie with the news.

The Great Leader's face gazed forward at the operators of the Orian Command Center, but his attention was drawn inward. The radar operator had repeated his announcement three times already and stood apprehensively waiting for a sign of approval.

Suddenly the Great Leader's eyes focused on him.

"Give me the projected image of the planet that Selesta orbits," he spoke softly.

Nevertheless, the operator cringed. "I'm sorry, Great Leader, but we haven't even drawn near enough for a visual schematic."

"Engineer Remeng, fire our main engines at full speed to rendezvous with their future vector path. Then I want you to cut the engines just before light speed. We'll shoot around and ahead of them and then slow down."

"You wish to make the ship invisible to detection?" Remeng's even response sounded more rhetorical than inquiring.

The Orian spaceship _Enlil_ would of course continue at maximum speed without its engines operating, since it encountered no air resistance to slow it down. Then if they allowed the reverse thrusters to slowly stop the ship, they could wait, invisible to all but visuals. It was the only way to hide without attempting the often unreliable gravitational cloak—a direct approach towards _Selesta_ would send detectable gravitational waves. The cloak theoretically masked these waves, but it was a delicate device involving anti-matter and difficult to set up and sustain.

"Merekor, change our course heading to the third planet." As Sargon spoke, Remeng smiled; as usual, the Great Leader had already thought of a solution to any problem that Remeng could raise.

"Orbit around the far side of the third planet and wait to bring the ship about for a full attack." Sargon continued, untroubled by Remeng's thoughts. "And dispatch a squadron to the surface of the fourth planet. I want to know what it is that intrigues _Selesta_ and its passengers." Sensing that he had finished speaking to them, the officers turned, hurrying to set his words into action.

I'll get her before she even knows I'm coming.

* * * * *

Exposed without protection and caught unaware, the recon team had no choice but to follow the aliens' instructions as best they could. They hadn't time to draw their weapons, and any sudden move might provoke the strange creatures that outnumbered them.

_So, the inhabitants of this planet are humanoid_ , Zhdanov thought in amazement, gazing with unconcealed disbelief at the aliens' apparent leader. He had stepped forward and called out a few words to the other aliens in an unintelligible language of deep rumbling tones that droned and oscillated between pitches and time intervals.

Only the aliens' wide, pea-green, round faces remained uncovered by the blinding bright silver uniforms they wore. Shorter than humans by twenty or so centimeters but stockier, they moved with surprising speed and agility in the planet's strong gravity.

Zhdanov could hardly believe the odds that this species had evolved the same characteristics as human beings, that massive convergence had occurred in two isolated environments. The aliens' noses, though broad and with only one nostril, occupied the central position; their mouths, bordered by a ring of leathery olive tissue, resembled lips; their eyes, two evenly set ovals with lashless lids, showed white surrounding a silver disk that replaced the separate human iris and pupil; their hair, ranging in tones from olive green to brown, fell in thick millimeter cords but had been drawn into a short ponytail at the nape of the aliens' necks.

The aliens motioned for the humans to follow them, waving their weapons in the direction of the male that had approached them. Zhdanov took a step towards him slowly, passively, attempting to convey their willingness to follow.

"I hope we can get out of this," he muttered to the others.

The team formed a line behind him, and the two aliens arrived at either side of the humans. Slowly, they began to march into the denser regions of foliage, away from the position where the first cargo shuttle had landed, away from the team's fighter planes and only means of escape.

After a few minutes of walking had passed, Zhdanov decided to chance a direct whisper to Knightwood.

"Where do you suppose they're taking us?" he asked, his even voice careful not to betray emotion. Her silence worried him; they were all afraid, but he thought Knightwood had been unusually silent even so.

Knightwood pulled in her breath sharply as the leader in front of Zhdanov half-cocked his head and came to a halt. Then, raising his arm towards the horizon, he pointed to a small rise in the land just ahead, barely visible through the vegetation, and moved to the side for them so they might see it better. Only now could she and Zhdanov descry a small hole in the side of the hill, secured by a green, organic door.

Knightwood stumbled forward as they headed towards it; she had been temporarily paralyzed by the realization that the alien had _understood Zhdanov's question!_

Knightwood' mouth had dropped open at this realization. She closed it. They continued further.

_It looks like we made an error in our calculations of what constitutes remote_ , Knightwood thought. _But then, we were only looking at the visible cities, comparable to our own variety_.

The aliens, however, continued without hesitation. When they reached the entrance to the hillside, the leader called out and waited until the door rose.

Zhdanov stooped his head, not sure what to expect. To his surprise, the door opened into a well-lit silver corridor, with gleaming metallic walls. Once the entire group had proceeded, the head alien stopped. A rumbling tremor vibrated beneath their feet, and the floor moved forward, sending them past infinite corridors.

"Wow!" Kusao said out loud, softly.

The team and aliens came to a great city, passed tall dwellings and open fountains and gardens, and traveled at a great speed for twenty minutes when the sky opened up above them. Before them rose breathtaking cylinders, cones, and pyramids of glittering silver, but in a moment they passed into another tunnel and crossed several intersecting corridors.

Without wood, the aliens had built their city entirely out of metal. Zhdanov tried to catch his breath as the floor finally stopped at the edge of a cavernous dome, where a meeting of thousands awaited the arrival of their human guests.

* * * * *

When the aliens first appeared, Erin could not recover from the shock of seeing them, or rather, from the unusual effect seeing them had upon _her memory_. Her body followed Knightwood blindly, as her mind's eye conjured the image of a green creature frozen in time, three-dimensional diagrams depicting its life functions. The image soon faded, and Erin's vision returned, but her mind caught hold of the strange alien words coming from the female guard at her side.

All at once the strange words resolved into ideas and thoughts, temporarily rushing over a mental barrier, a wall she had built up long ago in her own mind to protect her cherished illusion from her real self.

And she understood the aliens' speech!

* * * * *

One of the creatures was addressing the alien assembly, only now Erin understood him.

"At first when we detected the short burst of gravity waves that vanished under what can only be an Imperial gravitational cloak, we thought the Empire had at last returned, after thousands of years of silence.

"But look at them, brothers." The short, leathery-skinned male made no gesture to convey the disdain in his tone. "These creatures are not the emissaries we expected, nor can we determine how such a people obtained an Empire vessel. Therefore we must ask them—and if necessary force them to relinquish control of their ship to us. Power cannot be left in such primitive, irresponsible hands. We are the fourth colony of the Tiernan civilization. Remember, our new leader has charged us to safeguard the Collective."

_It must have returned, the great ship_ Selesta _, just like Fistian the ancient said it would,_ the creature who had spoken thought as the others considered his words. _Fools. They haven't recognized what we are dealing with. If reports from Tiernan are correct, the Empire is dead, and the old territories have been set adrift to survive on their own. If it is the Selesta—_

_Damn the leader._ I _will bring order to our galactic system, and if the other systems require assistance to rise, I will establish an order for them. I will take the ship from them._

He suddenly noticed Erin regarding him.

_Who is that one_? _Those_ eyes— _she isn't one of them_.

"Council of Elphor, I appeal to you to let us go free." Erin said loudly, interrupting the alien debate, now speaking in the aliens' language! "We meant no insult to your world in taking from your harvest. But we have traveled a great distance and needed to feed our crew. Please forgive our intrusion and allow us to return to our ship. We will promise to leave your area and your Collective in peace."

Zhdanov had been wondering what the group of aliens deliberated when Erin Mathieson had suddenly stepped forward. Then she had begun to speak the alien's tongue!

Zhdanov sucked his breath in so hard that he started coughing. The others just stared in mute shock.

* * * * *

The aliens responded to Erin's outburst with several moments of silence, as if they were each mulling over what she had said. Some of them appeared unable to surmount their surprise, if their expressions could be read correctly by the Earth observers who had been similarly paralyzed by the same feeling.

Then the head of the council conferred among the others. Finally, the creatures seemed to have reached an agreement, except the aggressive one, and the head of the council turned to regard their prisoners, addressing himself entirely to Erin Mathieson.

"I see that our reports were incorrect. Apparently there is a translator among you. Let me begin by saying that we do not understand nor did we anticipate your presence here. Our Collective has lived free from the Empire for more than twenty thousand Seynor years." He paused, looked about, then continued.

"Our ancestors came from Tiernan, but our planet here called Elphor was never an Empire world. This much we know, though our people have long anticipated word from the ancient nexus around Seynorynael. Tell us now—what has happened to the Empire? Have you indeed returned to us on _Selesta_?"

"We know nothing of the Empire you speak of." Erin insisted, deciding to be honest. "We are travelers from a planet called Earth. As I have explained, our ship, the _Discovery,_ was not equipped with adequate supplies to sustain us. The reasons are not important, except that our departure was accelerated by accident. I do not know anything of a _Selesta_."

The council listened and conferred again.

"What you have said would explain the errors in our initial assumptions concerning your people. Yet we thought—we felt sure—we did not know how you came to possess the ship _Selesta_ , but if she is not—then you cannot be emissaries from the Empire. Yes, it would be unlikely that the Elders would send an envoy of non-Seynor to govern us," he added and gesticulated a sign of approval, seeing the logic.

"And I doubt that any force could seize the ancient Empire's greatest vessel from Hinev's explorers—no, it would be an impossible feat for a species such as yours... Forgive some of us for assuming that you had come to us from the Empire and for contemplating force against you on those grounds. But a ship like yours visited Elphor long ago, soon after the first colony was built here. She had come from our mother world Tiernan, that fell to the Empire soon after, harboring the first Seynorynaelians ever to reach our people.

"This ship was called the Selesta, and it looked the same as yours does.

"But we are curious to know what territory you come from, why we have not heard from the other constituents. And we have not heard of your "Earth". After eons of independence, we should like to know what became of the other worlds, now only known through myth, for we have lost contact with the old principalities. The transmissions we receive now mean nothing to us, for Seynorynaelian, the Empire language, as a language has died out in our Collective, and knowledge of the other tongues is less.

"I do not— I do not understand." Said Erin. "We have no knowledge of a place called Seynorynael, this Empire you speak of."

"But we see that your race has preserved some of the history, that you must still possess interpreters if you can understand our speech," he disagreed with her. "Now we ask if you can help us to discover what has happened in exchange for the supplies you have taken. We will of course release your comrades and welcome you to our city if you can accept our offer of cooperation."

The aliens waited for Erin to confer with her team; the Earth crew, sensing that they were expected to respond, gathered around Erin to learn what had transpired. Zhdanov decided he would have to wait to figure out how Erin had been able to communicate with them; for now, the information that she had secured intrigued him.

"It must be a case of mistaken identity," Knightwood suggested. "But my question is, will they keep us here and leave us alive if we don't play along?"

The others nodded significantly.

"Are you up to the analysis, Erin?" Kusao asked, and Erin nodded slightly.

"All right then, Erin, tell them we'll try to help in any way we can," Zhdanov said, "but we can't guarantee that we'll be able to give them what they want."

As Erin moved to relay the message, Knightwood whispered to Zhdanov.

"You don't suppose the _Discovery_ was once the ship of these Saynor-i-nay-yel people they mentioned, do you?"

"Who knows?" Zhdanov sighed. "Perhaps it was. But did you hear what she said—they've seen others like us, on some other planet. This changes everything—all that we know of evolution and history—I'm not certain of anything anymore, but I do know one thing—we have to figure out how to control _Discovery_ and find that place!"

"If these aliens don't try to take her from us." Knightwood observed. "I would love to learn all we can from these people, but—if they figure out that we don't know anything, they might think we stole the ship after all. In a way—it's close to the truth." She admitted. "Even though we found her abandoned, I guess we took her without looking for the owners. They may not respect our claim to her."

"Then let's just hope Erin can keep up the charade until we're out of here." Zhdanov said and crossed his fingers. "And how in the first place is it she can talk to them?! Hopefully, we'll get that answer as well."

* * * * *

The Elphorans invited the crew to dine with them in a large banquet room; Knightwood wondered if they could eat the Elphoran fare, but as it turned out, the Elphorans served them food consisting largely of the _dthúl_ vegetable Kusao had discovered, prepared in various ways and one of the main ingredients of their dishes; the Elphorans also gave them water and a fermented drink made from the sap of the dthúl trees called _ftur-ómb_.

Meanwhile, Erin was taken to an archives building of some sort, where hundreds of important looking dignitaries watched her efforts at translating the ancient recordings they had preserved. She tried without success for more than thirty Earth hours with little rest, listening to various scraps in untold languages, until at last one of them had made sense.

The aliens, having grown restless, rushed to surround her when she at last began to speak. The short, faint signal had been one of the oldest in their collection, dating back thirty thousand years or so.

"... we urge all colonies to send representatives to Tulor to hold—no," Erin paused, "—to _determine_ the outcome of the cluster in light of the cataclysm—" The signal degenerated into unintelligible words, partially distorted by the cosmic radiation that it had traveled through before it arrived on Elphor, partially distorted no doubt by the imperfection of the medium that had picked it up and the deterioration over time of the grid upon which it had been recorded.

The simple breakthrough was enough to satisfy the observers; the message, though ambiguous, sent them into a frenzy. They asked her to teach them the ancient language, but she had to reply that she didn't understand how she had been able to interpret it.

"I don't know how I can understand the language." She said with a shudder. "I can't help you if I can't remember what I know and what I don't until I hear it."

The disappointment in this reply only marginally abated their enthusiasm. Apparently, the translator had been programmed to understand certain languages without conscious comprehension, but it did not matter. From the message and the other two trivial scraps she translated next, their specialists would begin to decipher the meaning of the individual words and begin to reconstruct the language.

"We will use your translations," they said. "It may take a while to decipher the rest, but we'll get on it right away."

Erin decided to broach a few questions of her own.

"What do you Ephorans know of Seynorynael and the ship Selesta? I am curious what these things are about."

"Hmmm," the scientist talking with her appeared disturbed by her question, and somewhat confused.

"Never mind," said Erin, but the damage was done.

_Perhaps they are from the Empire_ —she heard his thoughts all of a sudden— _but why would they wish to visit us_? The scientist wondered. _If the Empire has not been destroyed, if it has only gone into decline since the cataclysm, why would they invest such an effort to come to our world? Unless the Empire has arisen again... Perhaps I should speak with Dumumveh—the Empire and its colonies cannot refuse protecting another colonial envoy to the center of the Great Cluster. Then we will know_.

Shortly afterward, Erin rejoined the others at another banquet on the evening of the next day. Knightwood and Zhdanov asked her to translate much of the information to the crew, answering questions they had formed while observing their hosts. Then, moments after Erin finished telling them her story, Knightwood tapped the side of her glass thoughtfully.

"We can't do anything now, but if you're right, we have to find a way out of here soon—like you said, before they can propose any venture with us. We have our own problems to worry about."

Erin shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I know."

"Have you tasted this?" Lieutenant Kusao pointed to a green concoction that had been placed before Erin, who sat on his right. "It's terrific," he enthused, taking another helping without worrying if Elphoran custom held anything against gluttony.

"You are such a clown," she laughed with him, and they drank some more together.

"I'd like to ask them if we can leave tomorrow," Erin whispered to Zhdanov two seats away, making a mental calculation. The scientist's request was not likely to reach the Head of the Council until the next morning after the ceremonial feast, after which all thoughts were bent towards the rite of harmony. The Head of the Council would be bound to fulfill his promise to let the team leave since they had cooperated. If not—

"If we have already finished our end of the bargain, there should be no reason we have to stay," Zhdanov agreed. "They should understand we have our own imperatives and cannot tarry. _Discovery_ may not wait for us to return from our vacation. We could be stranded here forever if we tarry here."

Erin nodded and got up from the Earth side of the banquet dais. Halting before the Head of the Council, she spread her arms wide in the Elphoran fashion of seeking an audience and delivered their appeal.

The Elphorans conversed moments longer, and though reluctant to grant such a request in the middle of the banquet, gave them permission to return to their ship as soon as word could be sent for a shuttle to take them home.

* * * * *

The shuttle team picked a fortunate moment to return; only a few hours after the returning crew had reboarded the ship, _Discovery_ headed into the mouth of another wormhole and left the system.

Recomputing their new location proved difficult without a star chart, and the scientists on the bridge had no idea where to begin looking for familiar cosmic and stellar features. Yet since they could not recognize any of the local stars, they could determine that they had at least passed beyond the range of the local star groups nearest the Elphoran civilization.

At first, Colonel Kansier refused to believe the ground team's report about lieutenant Mathieson and called a meeting for Knightwood and Zhdanov to explain it to him, Dr. Cheung, Dr. Koslov, and a few of the other shipboard scientists.

"I don't know _how_ she did it," Knightwood said, shrugging. "Perhaps..." Knightwood suddenly turned pale as the thought occurred to her, and the others listened patiently. "Dr. Cameron—that has to be it. It's the only reasonable explanation."

Beside her, Zhdanov tensed, remembering that his initial reaction to Erin's speech had also been to blame Cameron. He thought of all of the brain scanning and analysis equipment Cameron had taken from the UESRC— _now the means makes some kind of sense, if not_ how _he did it._

"Hmm?" Kansier raised a questioning eyebrow, but Knightwood waved her hands as if to dismiss any speculation. "Maybe that's what Cameron was doing all that time while Erin was a cadet—programming, experimenting on Erin's mind, maybe even using nano-devices to alter the genetic structure in her brain. Dr. Cameron was solely in charge of Erin's physicals on Earth," she added. "In fact, he insisted on it. Perhaps that was because she was his test subject during that time."

"What do you mean—you think Dr. Cameron used Mathieson and her mind as an experiment?" Kansier asked for confirmation.

"I do." Nodded Knightwood. "I know Cameron was worried about trying to learn to communicate with the aliens, but—he never told me he had found a way to contact them using the power of the mind." Knightwood laughed as though sure she had found the answer.

"I know it sounds far-fetched, but what other reason can we assume allowed Mathieson to speak to the aliens? Unless of course, they assaulted her mind with some kind of nano-weapon that allowed her to understand them."

Across the table, Kansier listened attentively, but something didn't quite add up in his opinion. Since he knew Cameron personally, Kansier was able to accept the idea that the doctor's experiments had produced an Earthling with a "gift" for advanced communication—Erin had apparently only absorbed the language for twenty minutes before she was able to communicate in it. Kansier paused, turning to his right, where Cheung and Zhdanov wore similar expressions of uncertainty; he felt certain that the same thing disturbed them—the simple truth was, Cameron had never approved of genetic experimentation.

"I can see what you're thinking," Knightwood quickly pointed out, "that you're skeptical of my hypothesis, but Cameron _did_ support some genetic selection back on Earth," she insisted.

"I know," said Cheung.

"Take the case for the artificial enhancement of predispositioned traits, for example. Cameron believed in specialization, that this kind of artificial enhancement could speed evolution beneficially, _if_ such an enhancement were for the better good of the entire race and not merely a select few.

"Yes, but how could he do this?" Dr. Koslov asked skeptically. "We simply do not have the technology to make humans telepathic, and he could not have developed such technology all on his own without telling anyone." Knightwood shook her head. "Maybe not. Who knows? But haven't we all benefited from lieutenant Mathieson's ability already? And who knows how useful her ability might be in the future if she can sustain it. My thought is that we should be more concerned with helping her use and keep her gift than worrying about questions we can no longer answer."

Zhdanov nodded, coming to his own conclusions. Erin's aptitude for language comprehension had been present since childhood, after her initial years of isolation and quick absorption of the English language.

Yet for now the question had to remain open, until they had further evidence to support Knightwood's supposition. He liked the idea instead that the aliens had a nano-weapon that had allowed her to communicate with them, but why hadn't they said anything about using that, and why had they seemed so shocked when she spoke to them as well? And if they could make telepathy possible, why couldn't they translate their own stored transmissions and why had they needed her assistance? It all made no sense.

* * * * *

Alone for the first time since the scout team returned, Erin began to reflect upon what had happened on Elphor. She finally faced the truth; she knew she had understood the Elphorans' language because she had been able to _read their thoughts_. It had taken her a long time during the team march to the Elphoran city to sift through her captors' memories and absorb their culture but only seconds to absorb individual scraps and figure them out.

And as she remembered her interrogation, the reason she had not been able to translate their messages then became clear—she had no way of interrogating the creatures that had sent the signals, and she could not understand their language without a living mind to invade.

She was about to settle herself onto the sleep panel, when an unexpected thought struck her.

How then had she been able to translate the short segments? How had she recognized the message urging some unidentified recipient to come to the place called Tulor? Erin weighed the question in her mind late into the night.

She knew she had heard that alien language before, but that had to be impossible!

### Chapter Seven

So, this strange world was called Elphor. Iriken looked up from the monitor and looked out at the voluminous grey-green of the living planet. While training under the Garen, the Great Leader's chief advisor, in the Great Leader's command center, Iriken found he could access all sorts of information through the _Enlil's_ main computer without any code clearances.

_Enlil_ slipstreamed behind the _Discovery_ to this world, only to find that she had already departed. For the first time, Iriken knew why they had come to Kiel3. The Great Leader had searched long for a ship called _Selesta_ —Iriken found the translation and realized that it was similar to the Orian word "silrista"—open to discovery.

Only ten meters away, Leader Sargon and Garen discussed the _Enlil's_ new course without paying him any attention.

"I take full responsibility that we arrived too late to stop the Selesta," Garen was saying. "But we could overtake them—"

"Of course—it must be! The ancient route of Hinev's explorers!" Great Leader Sargon suddenly exclaimed, cutting off his subordinate mid-sentence. Iriken's ears perked up to listen.

"The Selesta is retracing the path of the ancient Seynorynaelian explorers," Sargon continued. "If I can just remember all of the things she told me about it—the stories when I was a child—" the Great Leader stopped, and smiled. "Set course for the Tiernan system," he ordered.

Iriken suddenly realized he had wanted to see the planet below, now that the possibility had been removed. He eyed the great expanses of green regretfully. He had only ever known life aboard the Enlil, but his race had once lived on the surface of a planet under the open sky, free to wander without the protection of atmosphere compression packs, to look up at the stars only at night and observe a familiar slow-moving tapestry of lights, warmed by the nearest star by day.

He had never experienced this strange thing called climate—except briefly on Kiel3—it was merely a detail that the computer provided as some form of description to distinguish between worlds. Iriken had known only the constant temperature within Enlil, but recently he had begun to wonder what the winds of Kiel3 would have felt like against his face.

* * * * *

Erin recognized the Tiernan system from the picture and descriptions the Elphorans had given her. Only two short days after the wormhole jump, the _Discovery's_ on board scientists and analysts had determined the presence of planetoids in the nearby class K star system while compiling new star charts of the area.

Unlike the last time, _Discovery_ approached the system traveling at minimum speed, giving them the chance to glimpse the world on their course grow from a small hazy pinpoint to a bright, greenish-yellow sphere, nearly one and a half times the mass of the Earth and whose gravitational pull exceeded the Earth's by 17%. On the bridge, Colonel Kansier called for a recon shuttle to scout the surface and collect water that they had needed ever since the _Discovery_ left the Earth.

"Knightwood, Zhdanov, and Cheung on line," the intercommunications officer said.

"Patch us through," Kansier nodded. Zhdanov's face appeared on one of the Earth vidscreen holo-monitors that had been brought onto the Discovery bridge when the initial plan to outfit the vessel was carried out—the strange alien holomonitor had only activated itself once, during their stay on Elphor.

Kansier thought back to the trip to Elphor.

On that day, Kansier's bridge crew had received the first shipment of food when the observation window before them suddenly lit up. The view it projected originated on the surface of the planet but had somehow been transmitted with perfect clarity to the _Discovery,_ magnified beyond the possibilities of Earth technology.

Three dozen aliens had surrounded the recon team.

The unprepared bridge crew had demonstrated various reactions to the surprise but all felt a kind of despair and urgency to reach their comrades below—two of the officers were still in recuperation, having gone into a catatonic state when the recon team was led away.

Kolesar had suggested a rescue party, but after the team had disappeared, Kansier knew there was nothing they could do. The _Discovery_ may have presented an unparalleled technological advantage, but they still hadn't figured out how to access its systems—hell, they couldn't even control the navigation.

Kansier cursed their powerlessness, but they could only wait.

Then, a miracle had occurred. As if by magic, the recon team had hailed them after two very long, tense, nail-biting days to say that they needed a ride home.

After they returned to the ship, Kansier and the others had little time to ask questions, however, when the _Discovery_ took matters into her own hands and jumped through another wormhole gate.

Now that they had come across another planet so soon, Kansier was reluctant to repeat their mistakes, but he had a feeling he knew what Zhdanov was about to suggest.

"Colonel, Knightwood and I request permission to join the scouting party. From the looks of it, this might be the planet Tiernan lieutenant Mathieson detailed in her report. Knightwood and I would like to try to establish contact with the human-like aliens the Elphorans spoke of."

Kansier turned to Erin, to verify that Zhdanov's assumption was correct, and she nodded, understanding his intent.

"Anxious to test the odds?" Kansier sighed.

Zhdanov didn't seem amused. "We may not be noticed," he countered. "Take a look at the local traffic—I don't think anyone's paying us any attention." Kansier glanced at the radar image screen, where thousands of dots registered the presence of transports and artificial stations and satellites around the moonless planet.

"They have an intergalactic civilization here, it seems. Maybe they'll never even notice us!"

"They're bound to protest if we try to land, though—all that traffic would have to be regulated—but we won't know what they're saying to us and how to respond. Our shuttle could be destroyed before she touches down." Kansier narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you want to take the risk? We need you two—we all depend on you. Save some energy for future discoveries. All we need right now is the water, and if this is the central headquarters of the entire colony the Elphorans are descended from, then how much more can we learn about them without taking the risk that they might decide to bring us in and take our ship if they can?"

"With this many ships in their skies, it should take them a while to figure out that we're not some kind of returning cargo shuttle or something, especially if we stay out of orbit." Zhdanov argued.

"Hmmm," nodded Kansier.

"A lot of the cities," Zhdanov continued, "are built in planetary chasmae—steep canyons, no doubt for protection. But the main city is sprawled over a large area. That's where a lot of the shuttle traffic comes in from space and leaves the planet. We may not know how to navigate into it, but we'd like to try. Knightwood and I have one more request," Zhdanov added. Sensing something significant was about to emerge, Kansier listened patiently.

"We'd like to take Erin Mathieson with us. Now don't you see—if she can do what she did on Elphor, we might be able to get by the Tiernans and contact the humans."

Kansier finally consented with a slight nod, though he did not approve of their venture. Major Dimitriev rose in his chair and now interrupted with a gesture of protest.

"Colonel, forgive the interruption, but is it really necessary to send officers with the scout team? Shouldn't we wait until we've determined their security? We don't even know for sure that there are people like us on this planet."

"No, I'll go." Erin had appeared behind them. In the holo-field, Zhdanov smiled his approval.

"Yes, Mathieson must go, in the event that she can make contact with the aliens." Said Kansier.

"We'll be expecting you in a few minutes. Knightwood's loading some equipment onto the scout shuttle. We'll meet you there."

* * * * *

Several hours later, on the planet Tiernan, the scout team flew over a great urban expanse beneath the window they had taken to the surface, tantamount to the perfect geometrical cities of Elphor but many times larger and teeming with a variety of transports that wove through building blocks of every color. The system of air shuttle traffic, unknown to them, proved to be their greatest trial. Knightwood was for the hundreds of different transports around them that camouflaged their identity.

Knightwood gazed out the windows, searching the passing shuttles and pedestrian lanes far below for signs of human life, but could see only a few of the inhabitants clearly as they passed by, and all so far were like the Elphorans.

Unfortunately, they would have to wait to find the human-like beings until they had augmented their water supply; the ship's monitor had showed them an undisturbed lake to the northeast past a wide _vastitas_ , a lowland area on the planet's surface, and the shuttle would be able to speed up once they cleared the city.

"What a view!" whistled Zhdanov.

The great volcanoes of Tiernan dwarfed even those of Mars. Flat-topped elevated _mensae_ rose beyond the city before the great plains appeared. Giant _paterae_ , filled with water to form crater lakes larger than Earth's great lakes put together appeared beneath them like small oceans. A great deal more of the planet's surface water remained frozen at the poles than on Earth, but the climate of Tiernan was actually a few degrees warmer on average.

"You can say that again," agreed Knightwood.

The absence of real terrestrial trees reminded Knightwood of Elphor, as did the strange olive and brown uncorticate tree-like forests, distant relatives of the Elphoran _dthúl_ trees which had proven quite tasty and a big hit with even the children on board the _Discovery_ —despite the face that they closely resembled Earth vegetables in their nutritional value.

The shuttle met no resistance and picked up only marginal signs of animal life—the humanoid inhabitants of the planet appeared to have clustered into great cities without venturing into the wilder terrain beyond.

It was no wonder they had forsaken the land beyond civilization's reach; close-ups of the land below revealed large but low, powerfully muscled six-legged carnivorous creatures and herds of squat, long-necked herbivores, with two frontal legs and a third for balance, three smaller grasping appendages above the vestiges of a common six-legged ancestor.

"Look at those weird creatures!" exclaimed one of the officers on board the shuttle.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to meet up with any of them," agreed Zhdanov.

The shuttle touched down at the edge of a lake and began to draw the water into the thirty-million gallon tank, but they found the process slower than anticipated. Like the water, their movements outside the shuttle, affected by the slight increase in surface gravity, slowed significantly, and the team quickly grew tired.

But as Knightwood watched Erin through the window, standing outside in her alien flightsuit, her head turning as she observed the bizarre but beautiful landscape around her, she thought the young lieutenant moved rather quickly.

Knightwood's reveries were interrupted by a call from the radar operator behind her.

"We've got to move," he shouted, his voice urgent. "The ship just picked up a mass of gravitational waves—our Charon alien friends are back."

Knightwood nodded and waited for the airlock to open so she could bring in the others.

* * * * *

_It can't be a coincidence,_ Zhdanov thought. Again the _Discovery_ had escaped the Charon alien ship that had chased her to the Tiernan system, only moments after the scout party returned from the surface of that planet. _Discovery_ had passed through another nearby wormhole gate, and aside from other things, Zhdanov again wondered who had constructed their tour.

_Discovery is protecting us_ , the realization shocked him. _But why_? _How does she know when we have left her and when we return_? _What course has she set for us and why_? His line of thought degenerated into the same old questions—questions they had all been asking themselves these past ten months.

The ship had reappeared in a large expanse of dark matter, an open section of space without stars or light, within a blanket of particles and hydrogen clouds in which they could determine neither where they were nor how long they had to go before they would return to the familiarity of a star system.

Knightwood had suggested yesterday that they had come to the edge of some galaxy, and the hundred or so onboard scientists had spent the rest of the day studying the composition of the strange dark matter that had been predicted but not yet conclusively proven to exist by terrestrial science.

The opportunity presented them was unparalleled, and in only hours, the science of the matter that composed a large percent of the universe's mass grew from the rudimentary into a complex branch. But even with so many scientists on board, Knightwood knew it would take years to unravel and analyze all of the data they had collected.

On the bridge, Zhdanov had found the crew silent and despondent when he arrived to present the scientists' report in person. The uncertainty of their position and overwhelming darkness beyond the ship had begun to affect the crew's morale, and many that had already suffered from a peculiar space travel-induced mental sickness were quarantined in the calming hydrogardens on board the _Stargazer._

Zhdanov could not help but wonder what methods the original inhabitants of _Discovery_ had employed to combat the phobias of their isolation. So far only a small percentage of the massive ship had been opened to them—and perhaps one of the closed spaces held the alien's medical treatments. But Zhdanov couldn't think about the sealed off portions for long without falling victim to the worst fears his imagination could conjure.

I still can't sleep at night thinking about what's on board that we don't know about.

No sign had been heard of the alien ship on their tail, but it could have passed within miles of them undetected in this place. Zhdanov's only comfort lay in the discovery one of the scientists had made less than an hour ago—and it was part of the reason Zhdanov left the Stargazer laboratory to deliver their compiled report in person.

Zhdanov paused after explaining to Kansier that their knowledge of dark matter was limited despite all former theories regarding it and despite the rapid advancements in the past two days. The scientists would work on figuring out where they were, but for now the progress was slow and the prognosis not very promising. The crew needed something better to hold on to.

"One more thing, Colonel Kansier," he added. "Shortly before the wormhole jumps, as you know, the dense matter contained within the engine sphere somehow creates a field of negative pressure around the ship which keeps us from emitting detectable gravitation, or acceleration, waves."

"Yes of course," Kansier nodded, unsure of what Zhdanov was driving at.

"Only," Zhdanov shrugged, "as we left the Tiernan system, our measurements picked up an anomaly in the field. After an analysis we have now determined that the negative pressure generated a kind of cloak around the _Discovery_ which we have not registered before.

"Captain, do you understand black hole theory?" Zhdanov suddenly asked. Kansier appeared startled.

"Why, yes," he said uncertainly, but motioned for Zhdanov to explain.

Zhdanov nodded, seeing that he had been a little vague. "Captain, imagine you were to observe space from an orbit around the event horizon of a black hole." Zhdanov gestured, throwing wide his arms. "The distortions of matter—of light and space—around such a dense object would cause you to observe a strange phenomenon. Everything would appear dark in front of you and around you. But behind you, the stars would appear concentrated in a small mouth, if you will. In this mouth the black hole would show the images of stars deflected from all around it. Now, we don't understand how it's being done, but the ship's anti-gravitational pressure appears to have produced some of the same effects shortly before we left the Tiernan system through the wormhole gate.

"During that time, actually, right as the Charon aliens' ship appeared, the field around us began deflecting the light of the stars, _the image of space_ , from the opposite sides of the ship. When Knightwood's shuttle returned, she thought she was imagining things—at first she says the ship seemed invisible, but then the field dissipated as the scout team approached.

Kansier jumped up in his chair, the color drained from his face. "If this ship became invisible," he said at last, "perhaps the aliens didn't know we left the planet and—remained on Tiernan."

Zhdanov sighed. "I don't know. We haven't detected them since leaving the Tiernan system. But they have followed us through the other wormhole gates. Clearly they must know how to use them; at least they know more about the gates than we do. So—I doubt we've left them behind. They're bound to figure out where we've gone sooner or later."

"Let's hope so, for the sake of the Earth," Kansier said. "They have to continue to follow us, and not go back to the Earth."

"Yes." Zhdanov agreed. "But at least now we know more about what the _Discovery_ is capable of. What I'd like to know is, why didn't she hide herself in the first place—instead of coming to the Earth? Why is this ship manipulating us all? And what is the force driving it?"

* * * * *

Even after a month floating in the static conditions without any concept of location or direction, life settled down on the ship as the crew adjusted themselves to their environment. Kansier had forbidden any planes from leaving the confines of the fighter bays, mostly because the effects of the dark matter remained unknown.

However, the fighter crews substituted simulation time for the real thing, taking turns on the fewer number of simulacra units. But there was a lot of time to do either nothing or anything. At first the sheer boredom of so many free hours left many too much time to occupy their minds contemplating the hopelessness of their situation. Tempers were short and impatience grew, until at last the generation that had not understood leisure on Earth finally began to explore the concept. The constancy of their environment at last strengthened burgeoning feelings of security, and in time a multitude of activities appeared. One officer got the idea to reconvert an empty cargo hold too small for any major purpose into an improved recreation center; others took the idea further and reincarnated some ancient sporting games from Earth's past. Soon the flight crews had subdivided into teams, and banners were printed reminding participants of upcoming, organized matches that instigated friendly rivalry.

A lot of the problems that had been faced so far, the shortage of food and the kinks encountered in the distribution and recycling of materials were resolved during the first few months of calm. The hydrogardens flourished with the first new _dthúl_ fruit from Elphor, sending a pleasant sweet fragrance throughout the sections nearest the botanical hold.

Erin Mathieson had been indefinitely dismissed from all of her ship-board duties and found her time eaten up by the scientists, who were curious to document and analyze all of the information she knew about Elphor and suffuse her experiences with the data they had collected on Elphor and Tiernan. In five months, she was able to teach simple Elphoran to the six linguistics specialists on board, and an incipient understanding of Tiernan/Elphoran culture.

The view she presented them was of a conservative, organized race, eons beyond Earth's level of advancement. The Tiernan ideal epitomized harmony, but contact with an even greater advanced intergalactic Empire in the distant past, that the Tiernans had named _Udugiúrha_ —"after the ancients"—had disrupted their culture, bringing out the radical ideas of egotism and greed in a few; at least, this contact had rendered such maverick tendencies widely acceptable. Once Tiernan had been contaminated by humanoid representatives of the other Empire worlds, a few religious purists had left to join the remote Elphoran colony to preserve their cultural purity.

However, they had not entirely succeeded, and even on Elphor the worlds of the Collective continued to fight outbreaks of violence, especially as the food and resources fell behind the needs of a growing population. Though highly nutritious and flavorful, the _dthúl_ plants and other edible plants of Elphor, descended from the same families that had originated on Tiernan, could no longer grow in the northern and southern regions of Elphor, whose soil, though supporting a rich variety of life, had been depleted of the necessary nutrients for the edible non-native plants. Replenishing the soil proved difficult, as only a few native species could put the nutrients back and took many years to grow. Elphor had been a thriving greenhouse when the first Tiernans arrived, but years of cultivating the alien plants had pushed its soil to the limit.

Tiernan had fared far better than Elphor, but the influence of the old cultures remained there, though the original languages and customs of the racial minority groups had been forgotten. All those born on Tiernan spoke only the low rumbling language of its inhabitants and had gradually adjusted to its stronger gravity, causing each succeeding generation of non-Tiernans to grow shorter, stockier, and stronger.

A few of the non-Tiernan humanoids had never learned to use the two additional voice-boxes with which evolution had equipped them. Only one race had long ago been able to interbreed with Tiernan humanoids and the resulting mix had been restricted to life in the urban center of Hurdghu, the large city where Zhdanov, Knightwood, and the scout party had been directed to land.

Cheung and a few others asked about the humanoids that the Elphorans had thought looked like Earthlings. But Erin only knew that a few _fughì_ —"unprotected ones" had been sent there in early history as exiles. Descriptions of them seemed to match the human profile.

During the discussions with lieutenant Mathieson, Knightwood wondered if this ancient mythical Empire had indeed traveled to the Earth and brought some of early man to Tiernan. That might explain why two alien species had arrived on Earth during her own lifetime, how both had known of the Earth's existence without disturbing it before. The coincidence that she had doubted, that two races had independently discovered the solar system, could now be permanently questioned. If the alien "Columbus" had come from a diverse galactic Empire capable of large-scale space travel, then the resulting race to the Earth had been deliberate.

Knightwood's mind wandered as the arguments continued, and a possible answer came to her. As in the Earth's age of discovery, perhaps one race, this Empire, had found the Earth but another had formed tantamount designs upon hearing of the Empire's discovery. The effects of time dilation that increased nearer the speed of light could have allowed thousands of years to pass on Earth while only tens of years passed for the original visitors to Earth. Then perhaps they—maybe even the Charon aliens—had only left a short time ago and just now returned to claim the territory.

After all, she thought, Earthlings had long claimed contact with alien intelligence—some even claimed that Earth's greatest prehistorical achievements had been influenced by an advanced race. If aliens had once visited the Earth, millennia would have passed before they could return. Or before someone else could beat them back there.

And who knew that the Earth wouldn't develop its own intergalactic center by the time the _Discovery_ returned? Knightwood considered that she might very well live to see an Earth she no longer recognized, if they ever found the way back home.

Still, Knightwood's colleagues seemed less interested in the history of a mythical Empire that had allegedly once controlled this section of space than in finding more vestiges of human life in the galaxy. Turning her attention back to the debate, Knightwood listened as some suggested returning to Tiernan once they had figured out where they were, since it appeared they had lost the Charon aliens. No one wanted the aliens to give up the chase and return to the Earth, as much as _Discovery_ enjoyed the momentary peace.

Knightwood looked across the table at Erin's tired expression and sighed. She knew that Erin returned home every day from the _evening_ debates, well past the next morning, continuously harangued by some scientist or another even as she left the conference room. Instead of enjoying the festive sport competitions and endless banqueting going on, the poor girl was subjected to the endless questions of Knightwood's colleagues. It would have been a miracle if she had seen more than a glimpse of her roommates and friends in the last month.

_Poor girl_.

And, once the excitement about Elphor had tapered off and most of the scientists' questions had been answered, the unsolved curiosity had finally been addressed—how had Erin Mathieson been able to learn Elphoran in such a short period of time? After the initial analyses of the Elphoran and Tiernan measurements proved statements she had made concerning the planets and the recorded transmissions supported her translation system, no one had doubted her telepathic abilities. But how she had gotten them in the first place could not be explained, and Erin herself did not seem to know the answer.

At first, despite her own curiosity, Knightwood had tried to protect Erin from a string of unwanted medical exams, but in the end it was Colonel Kansier who ordered that she be left alone and given some respect. After all, he had reasoned, presenting his case to the objecting scientists, hadn't she been put through enough of an ordeal with nine unending months of questions, ostracized from her own peers and the subject of unremitting scrutiny?

Kansier even suggested that perhaps they were mistaken about Cameron's involvement—and about Erin's ability. Perhaps it had not been Erin's doing but the Elphoran aliens who had singled Erin out and somehow transmitted their thoughts _to_ her. If Knightwood and Zhdanov's initial assumption was correct, and the Elphorans had understood their human captives, then was it not reasonable to assume that they could make themselves understood?

Kansier's case had merit; in the nine months since Erin had returned from Tiernan, she had shown no outward signs of telepathic ability. And despite her initial explanation, the scientist in her gave Knightwood reason to doubt herself and the impossible events she had seen.

Knightwood's proclivity leaned towards accepting Kansier's suggestions, but she hesitated. Kansier had not been there on Elphor. And while Zhdanov seemed willing to accept the possibility of Kansier's hypothesis for the time being, he was preoccupied with his own chemical analysis of the Tiernan climate, ecosystems, and planetary composition.

Yet Knightwood could not forget the surprise on the Elphoran Head councilor's face when the Earth officer boldly addressed him.

One of these days, and perhaps soon, it would be time to examine Erin's brain fully.

* * * * *

The baby in her arms looked up at her with curious eyes. Erin had missed the christening of little Hans Rheinhardt but had been invited over to a Blue Stripes Sky Hawks reunion party, the third so far, to meet the newest member of the crew.

Little Hans had been born two weeks ago, on the day when the _Discovery_ at last emerged from the dark matter. The ship had traveled thirteen months and four days after the jump from Tiernan when a background of stars suddenly reappeared.

They had come to the edge of another galaxy. Immediately the scientists that had been clamoring to overturn Kansier's order regarding Mathieson had absorbed themselves in charting the thousands of signals they were receiving. At the edge of the galaxy, the local systems were spread apart, and little background interference allowed the scientists to record the farthest reaches of this section of the universe. They could not pass up the opportunity to figure out what was nearby, what they passed, and where they were going.

Erin's friends had ceased asking questions about Elphor and Tiernan—she could not tell them more than they already knew. The scientists' monthly reports had been sent to the entire crew, but the other Blue Stripes kept their distance from the subject for other reasons. They sensed that it might be best to leave academic subjects to the research teams and preserve what remained of Erin's privacy.

Besides, there were other things to talk about—like the difficulties in finding a good baby-sitter.

As the son slept peacefully in Erin's arms, across the room, Hans senior had found Erik sitting by himself on a couch panel.

"You should go over there and try holding him yourself," Hans said amiably, sitting down beside him. "If you'd like." He added, laughing.

"I can see from here." Erik protested, with deliberate nonchalance. "Besides, I've already been to visit three times since he was born. I hardly think he can have changed very much since the last time I saw him."

Hans shrugged. "You'll understand better when you have one of your own," he said. "I tell you, I could look at him all day, Erik."

"The role of the doting father suits you," Erik observed dryly.

"Doesn't it?" Hans said, refusing to be daunted. "But there's nothing like the warmth of a family. You should get married, Erik. Otherwise you'll be missing out on something pretty special."

"Why is it all newly married people go on a crusade to marry off their friends?" Erik said, feigning mirth.

"It's just a suggestion." Hans said, throwing up his hands. "Anyway, if you really want to be happy, you'll take my advice." Hans said, giving a friendly warning, then stood and walked back to welcome some new arrivals.

_As if it's that easy,_ Erik thought to himself.

"Aw, he looks just like you," Ho-ling laughed at the other end of the room, appearing behind Erin.

"Ho-ling!" Erin said and turned around, a smile on her face. "Liar." She teased slyly. "When did you get here?"

"Just now. I had a little work to finish in the hydrogardens."

"What's this?" Nikolai had wandered away from the group around the new mother to join them. "So, they've put you to work in the botanical wing," he commented, his Russian accent still as thick as ever though his English was flawless.

"Where have you been—I haven't seen you in ages," Ho-ling said and reached out to give him a hug.

"I have been busy in the education center we put in for the children." Nikolai said in his Russian way with an apologetic smile, combing the fingers of his right hand through his reddish-blond hair. Ho-ling suddenly remembered that the children on board were from the Ural Base and spoke Russian almost exclusively. All of the ship announcements had been given and printed in the two languages—Russian and English.

"Most of the kids can speak English now," Nikolai said, as if reading Ho-ling's thoughts, "but the parents still speak Russian at home, so I do a lot of translation work as well. Zhdanov and a few others cannot do it all you know." He laughed. "Besides, Zhdanov is Ukrainian, and his Russian isn't perfect. That is okay as long as I teach only the English to Russian children, but now I am teaching your UESRC scientists' children to speak Russian, and they are all sounding like Zhdanov—"

Erin and Ho-ling looked at each other and burst into laughter after a prolonged effort to keep a straight face.

Nikolai looked puzzled and threw up his hands. "Where is Nathalie?" He asked, looking around the room.

Erin looked around, following his eyes. She hadn't spoken to Nathalie in weeks. Ho-ling shrugged. "She's been awfully independent these days—but she said she'd be here tonight," Ho-ling said, sounding uncertain.

"Well, Einar wanted you to meet his fiancée—she's a biologist and worked with Knightwood on the Elphoran plants—her name's—"

"Dr. Yuko Hanashiro," Erin interrupted. "We've met already." Erin added, suppressing her own resentments towards the scientists.

Ho-ling glanced between the two of them. Sensing Erin's sudden reticence, she decided not to push her. "Well, I haven't seen her yet—I hear she's not only smart but very pretty as well. I'm going to go meet her. I'll see you two later?"

"Sure," Erin said, nodding.

A minute later, Nikolai sat down by Erin on the cushioned alien panel that resembled a couch. He reached out to hold the tiny fingers of little Hans, who appeared content to sleep in Erin's arms.

"I—have you spoken to Erik yet?" Nikolai asked, and swallowed. He had told himself he wasn't going to interfere, but at the same time had known he wouldn't hold to his own advice.

"Not since before we landed on Tiernan, if you can believe it. It's hard to imagine not seeing someone in so long with so few of us here." Erin watched as he let go of the small hand.

"Well, you've been pretty hard to find—though it's understandable." He coughed. "I'm not saying I agreed with how the scientists treated you, but—"

"It's all right. I understand. But the information had to be obtained." Erin repeated the phrase she'd both been using herself and hearing a lot recently and sighed.

"Even so, it must have been hell," Nikolai said and looked away. "We all worried about you," he added quickly. "It's strange. Do you remember that first time when the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks came through here? We wondered how you knew where you were going. I thought it was intuition—but now it seems unfair that some alien creatures think they have the right to take over your mind and invade your privacy—not once but twice." Nikolai referred to a popular opinion among the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks, that Erin had been the beacon for an alien force still present on board, one that guided the ship.

Erin flinched. He thought it was just the painful memory of the experiences she had and apologized for bringing it up.

"Anyway, I know Erik's anxious to talk to you—but of course he's not going to come over here." He added.

"Nikolai—" Erin began but stopped. "I think I'll take little Hans back to his mother."

"I don't know—he looks happy where he is," Nikolai said.

"He certainly does, but it's time for one little boy to go to bed," Hans' voluble voice suddenly interrupted them.

"So, congratulations, Hans," Nikolai slapped him on the back.

"Thanks. I'm glad you could all be here. I'll just take the little guy to his room and I'll meet you two over there in a minute. We're about to have dessert. And I want Erin on my team for space stratego."

"That old game?" Nikolai smiled.

"Ah, but it's new and improved. Some of the new questions involve alien history."

"I see," Nikolai said, winking at Erin.

"I'm the host—so I'll pick my partners." Hans said. "Sorry, Nikolai, but I haven't forgotten the good old days at the UESRC..." his jovial voice drifted off as he disappeared into the other room of the couple's new quarters.

"No, I never was very good at history." Nikolai admitted.

Erin and Nikolai laughed and went to join the others.

* * * * *

"Catherine," Scott Dimitriev called out, and the name echoed in the laboratory. He turned around the intersection into the adjoining room, where the lovely young woman who was his fiancée sat, her eyes bent to a microscanner.

Dr. Catherine Cresson looked up and smiled, tucking a blond strand behind her ear.

"Hey, stranger," she laughed. "Where have you been?"

Scott shrugged and sat down, picking up a writing instrument and fingering the end thoughtfully.

"You forgot to come back at 1100." Catherine continued, looking into the microscanner. "How many more times are you going to start over with that experiment, hmm?" She asked, presenting him with a roguish smile, then seeing his expression, she stopped. "You know Knightwood and Zhdanov need anyone with scientific degrees to help out." She admonished, then paused. "So, what's on your mind?" She asked a moment later.

"I—I guess things on the bridge have been pretty busy since we left the dark matter cloud." He admitted. "I'm sorry we haven't had more time together."

"Hey, you want to hear something funny?" Catherine suddenly asked, her expression deliberately detached as she handled several printsheets on the table in front of her. "You know your old _friend_ , that Mathieson girl everyone's been talking about? Well, Kansier won't let us talk to her or give her an evaluation unless she's willing to have one herself."

"I agree with him," Scott said firmly. "Though I think she should submit to it, everyone on board has certain rights—certainly the right to his—or her—own privacy, not to be poked and prodded. Moreover, she says she isn't up to it yet, but told Knightwood she _might_ at some point. I think she's been through so many interviews that she's quite afraid of a full medical analysis at this point. And Until Kansier orders it, she won't do it." He shook his head, stood, and turned away.

"But I didn't come here to talk about all that, Catherine. I—" he paused. "I thought we might go somewhere today, just you and me. It would give us time to talk, and—" he turned around, but Catherine had returned to study the view through her microscanner.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't have the time right now, Scott," she said, still looking down. "But you could do something to help me out. Will you find your Mathieson friend and ask her if I might talk to her? I asked her to meet me here this afternoon, but she was leaving for flight practice and didn't give me an answer. I'm having a little trouble with some of these Elphoran specimens."

"Scott? Is something wrong?" Catherine looked up a moment later when no answer came. She stood, and headed over to him, reaching her arms around his waist and burying her head against his chest.

"You're so handsome. I'm a lucky woman." She said and sighed, but Scott hesitated a moment before holding her. As he encircled her with his arms, he looked down and began playing with a loose blond strand across her labcoat that had fallen from her hairclip.

Suddenly Catherine broke free with a smile.

"I've got to get back to work, darling. I'll see you tonight for dinner?" She added and turned to her microscanner without waiting for an answer.

Scott stared at his open hand, then left the room.

* * * * *

Not long afterward, Scott approached Erin in the Great Bay that held the _Stargazer_. Kansier had reassigned flight training to all of the fighter squadrons now that they had entered a new galaxy, and several of the Blue team Sky Hawk squadrons had taken advantage of their stationary position to head out for practice.

"Major Dimitriev," Erin pulled off her helmet and stopped when she saw him. "What are you doing here?"

Scott's eyes narrowed. Her formal manner of address had put a distance between them.

"Looking for you," he replied coolly.

"Actually, I'm busy right now. My friend Helen's expecting me. She has a physical today, and I promised to take little Hans to one of the hydrogardens." Erin turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, Erin," he called after her, and took hold of her sleeve. She stopped but did not turn back around. "I just needed to ask you—" he faltered, feeling her irritation without understanding it.

In the past year, he had seen more of Erin and the other member of the primary bridge crew than his own fiancée; since they left Tiernan, however, he had seen little of either Erin or Catherine. The time alone had been ideal for contemplation, but nothing had really changed.

However, holding on to Erin's arm, he suddenly realized there were other things he wanted to say.

_We pretend to love other people, and now I see just how wrong that is_! he thought. _My_ deception _caused misery all around. Can't you see that I'm trying not to care for you? Erik and Catherine feel it as much as we do; they know it—they can't help but comprehend what is going on. They understand the power of our feelings more than we ourselves do_ —

"I know." Erin shook her head and pulled herself free. "Or at least I can guess. Dr. Cresson wants to run some tests on me or with me. Fine. I'm off duty tomorrow at 1600. Tell her I'll be there."

"What?" Scott said, stepping back as though he'd been slapped. "How did you hear—"

"She was part of Dr. Koslov's team in the analysis." Erin explained. "I could tell she wasn't very happy about Kansier's decision not to probe my brain further. But look, I have to go. So, if you'll excuse me, sir," she said and turned. She gave hom a quick salute.

Scott stood a moment longer and watched her leave, stunned by her gesture, feeling anger rising in his throat. Why had Catherine bothered to ask him to relay the message if Erin already knew? He hadn't even completely made up his mind to tell her, and yet now she thought he agreed with the others, the scientists who wanted to make her a guinea pig.

Well then, he thought, there was only one thing to do. He would make sure that Erin never arrived.

The opportunity you once let slip,

Eternity'll not give you back again.

—Schiller

### Chapter Eight

After so long, Erika Zirnenka, Iriken Zirnenka's sister, had finally been transferred to the Great Leader's Biological Functions Analysis Unit. Her own experience with the alien pilot of Kiel3 had launched her into a higher security team, a stepping off point, during which time she learned the detailed alien anatomy in preparation for future assignments.

Erika was not to concern herself with the fact that the evidence showed their Kiel3 humans to be genetically linked to their own race, though in a far distant past. Orians were also related to the extinct _yahn_ creatures that they had once eaten for sustenance, before artificial synthesis of foods replaced the consumption of organic foods.

She had not seen Iriken since Enlil left the Kiel solar system.

Then all of a sudden, one day Iriken had appeared in the officer's section lounge. He recognized her at once and came over to see how she had adjusted to the transition, but showed no excitement in their reunion. Erika remained a respectful distance from Iriken as he was now the new designate for chief advisor to the Great Leader, and she gave terse answers to his questions.

"What did you think of the planet Tiernan?" she suddenly asked. Her eyes widened as she realized her mistake. She had addressed him informally on a frivolous matter.

But Iriken responded with a curiously pensive expression. "The cruiser brought back many things of interest," he said finally. He could not express the regret he actually felt that he had not been to the planet himself, for the Great Leader had not sent him. He could not regret that they had not stayed long enough in that system for him to learn more of the people that inhabited the strange world, for the Great Leader had taken them away quickly. There were so many things one could not say.

"Yes, we have had much to do." Erika responded, nodding soberly. Inside her heart lifted, and she was glad for the chance to speak of simple things with him as they had during childhood.

Iriken scrutinized Erika's face. He remembered her doubts before they left the Kiel system but saw with relief that she had amended her ways. He had probably inflated her discontent then beyond that which she had felt—but he was comforted to know that she was again happy and at peace.

He was glad that ambivalent thoughts did not trouble her.

As they did him.

* * * * *

"Keep them out there," Major Dimitriev announced coolly over the videocom from his chair on the bridge.

"They've been practicing for several hours straight. Now how about letting them in for a break before they run out of fuel, huh?" One of the aircraft technicians in the Great Bay had called again to ask when the squadrons were coming back in. Kansier had gone back to his quarters to sleep and left the unofficial Co-Captain in charge.

But Dimitriev had his own agenda. Professor Cresson's appointment would have to be canceled. Her patient Mathieson was still flying in circles outside the Discovery.

"Sir, as you know, radar reports we're near a planetary system—spectral class F—a yellow star system. But Dr. Koslov has just sent us his analysis, and we've got it to review now," one of the communications officers interrupted. "He predicts the second of the five planets might be able to support living creatures. Before we stopped, the ship was on a course that will take us right by it—what are your orders?"

"Bring the squadrons in but have them wait in the Great Bay," Dimitriev reluctantly answered. "You're probably right—I'll bet the _Discovery_ means to take us there. As soon as possible, patch in a visual of the second planet. How about transmissions?" He asked the bridge crew's radar operator.

"None. If there's intelligent life on the planet we've found, they haven't figured out how to make a radio yet." Lieutenant Meri Nilsson said.

Twenty minutes later, after the fighter crews reboarded the ship and the _Discovery's_ engines had engaged to bring the vessel to minimum speed, a visual appeared on the overhead holofield out of nowhere. As if the _Discovery_ itself had been listening to Dimitriev's orders, the ship produced its own magnification of the surface of a planet still two hundred thousand kilometers away. The sheer size of the holographic projection had awed them before, but it was the overwhelming beauty of the image it presented that brought out a collective gasp from the crew.

Damn this ship, it must have a mind of its own, and something on board is alive and aware of us, I'll bet my life on that.

"Can we take the ship into an orbit?" Dimitriev asked. Erik Ross, one of the current bridge navigators, paused a moment to check the helm control.

"Hmmm. I think she'll allow us to take her in."

"Good." Dimitriev nodded. "Then send out the squadrons once we've achieved orbit."

* * * * *

Lieutenant Kusao's plane dipped low, skimming the surface of a beautiful blue mountain lake. The squadrons had fanned out over the surface, searching for signs of life.

Even on the surface, the planet reminded Kusao of his old home on Earth. As they left the Great Bay behind, an enormous blue and white world had awaited them, bringing tears to their eyes. Their journey from Earth could have been a dream.

But the continents of this world were not arranged in a familiar pattern, and their scanners showed that the mass and surface gravity were slightly less than on Earth, the average temperature cooler, the seasons longer, the sunlight brighter.

The illusion of Earth faded, but the planet's appeal did not.

They found no sign of intelligent civilizations, no artificial pollutants in the atmosphere, nothing except an array of small, graceful animal-like creatures and an infinite variety of greenery. Flowering plants suffused the surface of the land mass divided into three main continents—the visual showed only small deserts and dormant volcanoes.

"Beautiful," Kusao said quietly.

_Discovery_ relayed relevant information to the team as they flew over the surface—a magnetosphere and ozone layer like that of Earth protected the planet from cosmic radiation; in turn the squadrons relayed surface measurements, that the atmosphere would have been thin but most likely breathable.

Kusao was about ready to pitch his tent down there.

However, Erin Mathieson didn't share the team's enthusiasm; as she looked at the visuals, she tried to suppress a pang of anxiety about this strange world, but the feeling wouldn't go away.

"I'd like to disembark to take some of these creatures up and take a look around." Kusao said over the communication network to the bridge, eyeing the rise of a nearby scopulus, a scarp twenty meters high from which he imagined himself surveying the wide horizon.

"Think that's a good idea?" asked Erin Mathieson.

"If we've lost our alien friends," returned Kusao, "then we might consider living here for a while—the crew needs this, sir—fresh air and nature as far as the eye can see. We can't live forever in that ship. It may be a while before we get back to the Earth." Kusao had contacted the bridge, and the other squadron members listening on the net made sounds of approval.

"Wait a minute," Erin interrupted. "Don't do anything yet. Have we checked for poisonous gases, toxins—microorganisms?"

"The analyzer says all systems normal," Kusao said and presented her with a puzzled expression in the videocom window.

"Let's bring down the more complex equipment to be sure," Erin advised.

"Zhdanov's on his way." Dimitriev said over the intercom.

* * * * *

_I've got you at last._ The sibilant alien voice resonated throughout _Enlil_.

The pilots paused a moment as they prepared to launch. The only fear they knew was to displease their Great Leader.

Nearly ten thousand of them stood poised to initiate the Great Leader's Plan, an unprecedented assembly in their history. The Great Leader had amassed more than two thirds of his fighters, though a hundred thousand pilots had been left behind. Those that had been chosen knew the honor they had been given.

Then, like a swarm of insects, they emerged from _Enlil_ to converge upon the surface.

* * * * *

"It appears that lieutenant Mathieson had good reason to be cautious, sir." Zhdanov spoke from the shuttle that had joined several of the squadron fighters on the surface, now flying over a large body of water flanked to either side by Erin Mathieson and Einar Suffield-Andersen. Kansier had reappeared on the bridge moments before the scientist's transmission and now watched the monitor from his command chair as the Ukrainian scientist in the holomonitor shook his head in disappointment.

"We can't take any specimens." Zhdanov continued. "Nor can we allow any of the crew to disembark from the ship unprotected—this planet is entirely contaminated by microbes that are lethal to human beings. I'm afraid we've wasted our time. We can't risk taking anything from this planet. I'm not sure we would be able to decontaminate any of the supplies."

"Very well," Kansier nodded. "All squadrons return to the ship. Thank you for the information, Zhdanov. And thank Mathieson for her commendable intuition."

"Signing off," Zhdanov said, acknowledging him.

Minutes later, Kansier prepared to return to his quarters and his interrupted sleep when the radar operator on duty suddenly screamed.

"The Charon aliens!" she stammered. "Estimates coming in—they've sent out... over eight thousand ships! They're heading for the planet."

"Sir, there's no way we can stem an attack of that force!" Nikolai Kaganov shouted, turning around in his seat.

Dimitriev felt his stomach lurch but calmed himself. Panicking would do them no good. "Sir, we've got to send out every available fighter," he advised.

Kansier nodded. "What are you doing?" he asked, as Dimitriev turned away and headed to the door.

"I'm going with them," he said decisively and let the door close.

* * * * *

Seconds after the first of the fighters had departed, the blast hit.

The _Discovery_ listed, and for a second, the artificial gravity on board was disrupted. Kansier's stomach sank suddenly as power was somehow returned to the enigmatic gravity generators.

_They're using our own tactics against us,_ Kansier reflected, remembering the penetration of Arnaud's infiltration team in the moments of weakness when the _Enlil's_ fighters had been drawn out to pick off the troublesome Earth fighters.

_But how did they know for certain that the_ Discovery's _impenetrable electromagnetic and anti-gravitational fields would be similarly disrupted when our own fighters were deployed_?

Kansier now understood the aliens' trap, too late. He could not defend the ground team without sending out more fighters. Even if they understood how to use the _Discovery's_ weapons, they were in too high an orbit on the other side of the planet and could not target the enemy planes, anyway.

But if the _Discovery_ sent out its fighter planes, they risked another blast from the alien ship. Apparently, they _did_ know how to use their own weapons. Who knew—they might even have planned a similar infiltration, though on a much grander scale than anyone had ever envisioned.

"Tell the squadrons to remain on board," Kansier bit out the order, aware that he had probably sacrificed the lives of all those outside the ship. He regretted the decision immediately; at the same time he knew that he had to protect those on board.

"Wait until the fighters return to open the Great Bay." He added. "We can't risk deactivating the _Discovery's_ shielding device." One of the bridge crew half-turned around with a dubious look on his face.

No one could possibly make it back through all that.

* * * * *

Erin saw the swarm of enemy ships approaching them, and her gut clenched. She had stayed with Zhdanov, but all those of her squadron remained silent after hearing Kansier's last order.

Their helplessness vexed her, and her senses heightened. The whine of the engines faded in her ears as they left the planetary atmosphere, and they were left in that incredible calm with the surreal image of starkly glittering ships noiselessly converging upon them.

Erin saw the first explosion and cried out.

* * * * *

"I don't understand it—the enemy planes are crashing into each other." The radar operator didn't mask the disbelief in her voice. They're flying around in circles. It looks as if their guidance systems are malfunctioning—"

"Are our fighters affected?" Kansier interrupted.

"Negative. They're heading back to the ship."

"Wait as long as possible—then open the Great Bay." Kansier drew in a deep breath. How on Earth could they have escaped such odds? He wondered if the _Discovery_ had done something to save them, but he could not find an explanation as to why their own ships would not have been crippled by whatever force was crippling the enemy fighters.

He reminded himself to have a chat with the higher powers at work and offer them his gratitude.

* * * * *

High above in _Enlil,_ Sargon received word that his plan had failed. Something or someone had interfered with the fighters' navigational systems, disrupting their systems with powerful electromagnetic waves.

_Alessia,_ he thought in anger. _She protects them from me._ But it was too late for him to undo the damage she had done. The Earth ships had already made it to the _Selesta_ safely.

Minutes later, Enlil sped ahead and entered the wormhole. Sargon took a gamble that Alessia would be heading for the lom-vaia planet, though he was confused why she followed the old explorer route instead of engaging her warp engine straight back to the Rigell system. Granted the Tiasennian scientists and Alessia's new allies would have been affected catastrophically by such a space warp, so that was likely the reason she did not... _Couldn't her power protect them? Or maybe she couldn't... Bah, I am sure she could leave me behind for good, and yet she tarries.... No matter, why. I will be patient. I will catch her in a moment of weakness._

* * * * *

As the last fighter returned to the ship, another blast hit them. Discovery's electromagnetic and anti-gravitational shields returned, but the interior systems had gone haywire.

The lights in the Great Cargo Bay went out as the squadrons disembarked. Erin stood near Zhdanov and activated her helmet lamp; soon a flood of lights danced among the assembled crew. The team headed down the interior corridor in the dark, waiting for a response on their wrist communicators. They had reached the third to the last corridor leading to the bridge when a message came through. It had taken a long time in coming, as they walked without the use of the automated walkways.

"Yes, the Earth-installed intercom isn't functioning," one of the bridge operators replied to someone else's question. "We have light, but some kind of alarm is going off. I wouldn't head to the bridge—the noise in here is unbearable." Even over the wrist communicators, the sound behind the female operator droned at an uncomfortable level.

"Where do we go?" one of the pilots asked, looking around the company. Erin heard Major Dimitriev's voice and looked over in the direction the sound had come from. Meanwhile, Zhdanov had taken her arm and led them through the crowd towards him.

"I suggest we head back towards the Great Bay. There's nothing down here until we hit the crew quarters. Maybe we can wait on board the _Stargazer_. The systems should be functioning in there, and there might be a few scared people headed that way."

"Sir," one of the pilots shouted, and the company turned their heads towards the noise. The flood of light illuminated the area to which the young pilot pointed. He didn't need to elaborate, for they had all immediately understood.

Beyond the door a dark aperture had appeared. The flood of light traveled past it and down the corridor. Similar darkened doorways continued at even intervals as far as they could see.

The sealed sections of _Discovery_ had opened at last.

* * * * *

Light returned within the hour. The flight squadrons still stood in the corridor when the harsh glare surprised them. After Dimitriev's signal, Kansier and the others from the bridge as well as Knightwood, Cheung, Koslov, and several other scientists had rendezvoused with them. The team had been deciding whether or not to wait until the lights returned to explore the new sections, if they should explore at all.

No one dared to remove their flightsuits, to even move before the lights returned. They were not even sure that the atmosphere would still support human life. The interior corridors had been exposed to an environment that had not originated on the Earth, that had mingled with the Earth air.

"It's mildly different, but breathable," Zhdanov announced with a confused tone of voice. "I hope I'm right," he offered. He had carried the atmospheric analyzer with him from the shuttle and operated the device as they waited. His verdict did something to calm the tension.

"They sealed sections are still open," Knightwood shook her head. "Even with the power returned to the ship." But for once she wasn't anxious to be first to peer into the exposed corridors. In the recent attack, she had given Zhdanov up for lost. Remembering Cameron's letter, she had regretted never working things out with Zhdanov. She wasn't about to lose the opportunity now. Now that he was safe and sound.

"Where do we begin?" Nikolai asked. "There were open passages all the way from here to the bridge. We must have passed a hundred of them."

"I don't know. But we've got to organize everyone," Zhdanov replied. "There are a lot of confused people in here. Someone ought to figure out how to fix the Earth intercom and let them know what's happened."

"Who's going to check out the ship?" Nikolai persisted.

"I'm going to lead a small party of volunteers." Kansier said evenly.

"You can't go, sir. If something happens to you, who will take command?" Dimitriev stopped him with a hand on the Colonel's shoulder. Kansier's eyes widened, as though he would have only taken the gesture from Dimitriev and barely tolerated it at that. "Let me go instead." Kansier looked into Dimitriev's face. The younger man's expression was resolute, his eyes determined.

"All right." Kansier nodded reluctantly. "Do we have any volunteers?" He asked, but the company hesitated.

"Colonel!" One of the bridge crew, lieutenant Segura interrupted. All eyes turned towards her. "Lieutenant Mathieson just went in by herself."

_Good Lord! Next time, restrain her!_ , Zhdanov groaned, though he actually had suspected something from her before it had happened this time.

* * * * *

The doorway was in fact another corridor. It branched away into a maze of passageways, but she continued down the main hallway until it opened up into a wider space.

Erin removed her helmet and smelled the cool air. The aroma danced on the verge of her memory.

"What is this place?" she asked aloud.

Suddenly she was home on Earth.

"Erin," the concerned voice of Major Dimitriev echoed down the passage. Erin heard him but didn't respond.

The image of Adam Blair was smiling at her from their meal preparation room in their old quarters in the UESRC East Wing. Her father Richard Mathieson stood nearby, checking a monitor for news, while her sister Moira, here only about ten, fixed herself something to drink.

Tears streamed down Erin's face as she sank to the floor, through the artificial projection of their old leisure room sofa.

"Mother! Father! Moira!" She cried, sobbing for the first time she remembered since she was about six years old.

"Erin!" She felt Scott's hands settle on her shoulders. "Are you all right?" he asked, then suddenly gasped. He had just noticed their surroundings.

The two of them remained paralyzed, holding on to each other when the others approached. Zhdanov and Knightwood had come after all, followed by most of the old Blue Stripes Sky Hawks team—all of them who had been waiting outside. A few other brave officers had followed, but the moment Erin had disappeared, her old teammates had rallied behind her.

After all, Knightwood thought, if anything on board the _Discovery_ had wanted to harm them, it could have done so long before. Instead, the ship had actually seemed to be protecting them all this time.

Meanwhile the images had changed to project a scene obscure to all but one of them.

Scott's mother and two sisters were waiting at the door for him in their apartment in Central City. They were going to meet Aleksander Dimitriev, Scott's father, for a picnic in the rural zone Observation Area; it was the day before his mother and twin sister Katya were killed in the alien raid of that city.

"Mother!" Scott screamed, reaching past Erin for the smiling figure that seemed to look past him as though it waited for some unknown person to appear. The others watched, speechless, as the always composed Co-Captain crumpled to the floor before the power of the image. Then, as he knelt, grasping at the air, another figure, a small, dark-headed girl with bright cobalt eyes and pale features, danced away from the others and called out something; there was a natural grace to her, like a young cub at play, yet there was also a hint of physical frailty in her delicate limbs if not in her manner.

"Katya," Scott breathed, numbly staring at the image. Unwanted tears coursed down his cheeks as his twin sister listened and brightened, then bounded over to the approaching image of a young boy cast of the same mold, an artificial image reflected in the mirrored walls of the living room just beside the older Scott. Scott turned to the mirror and saw only his younger self in the reflection; though the boy in that image embraced Katya, Scott felt no comforting arms around him here in the present. He felt alone.

Suddenly the holo-field disappeared and left them standing in a large bare room with beautiful coruscated silvery-blue metallic walls.

"A holo-room," Knightwood breathed, afraid to touch either Scott or Erin, who had been devastated by the images they had seen.

"A horror room is more like it," Nikolai pronounced, helping Erin to her feet. Scott stood but kept his face turned away.

"It seems to projects memories," Zhdanov concluded, impressed, but not without cogitating the danger of such a powerful emotional tool.

"Yes—maybe that's not all," Knightwood suggested, giving way to another thought. "Give me an image of—a Mediterranean beach—Earth," she shouted, and within seconds, a tropical paradise surrounded them. She could detect the suggestion of salty air and the smell of fresh fish—but then the feeling and its accompanying images passed. The sound of waves diminished.

"Well, well—Major Dimitriev," She said, hoping to animate Scott, who was technically in charge in Kansier's absence.

"Yes, Knightwood." When Dimitriev turned around, he seemed relatively normal, but for a raw, red quality to his eyes and nose and a subtle note of despondency in his voice.

"A few of the crew went down some of the corridors while you went ahead," Knightwood continued. "They report passing several rooms like the crew quarters."

"We aren't far from the other ship quarters," Lieutenant Kusao added. "In fact, I'll wager they connect with this section." He said, not as affected by the shock of discovering the holo-room. But then he hadn't witnessed the rematerialization of his own past where it never could have been.

* * * * *

Two days later the scouting parties had explored nearly all of the sections that had been opened in the recent battle, but they soon discovered that they could access far less of the ship than had originally seemed possible. A lot of the sealed doorways turned out to be corridors that intersected the same new areas.

But the shortage of quarter issue had been permanently resolved. More than fifteen thousand empty rooms had been found in the section Erin Mathieson entered alone; Kusao's prediction that they connected to the already known crew quarters proved correct. The new section had the appearance of never being used, though the crew had no way of verifying their guess, except that unlike the other quarters, they found no momentoes or personal effects in the new sections.

The holo-field generation room, though, was the first one of its kind. Dr. Droessler, the ship's leading psycho-analyst, at once prescribed relaxation time in the holo-room for those who had fallen prey to a severe form of claustrophobia as a result of their extended confinement in space. Yet he advised others to program the setting for them, so that they were not made homesick as well. Somehow the holo-room knew what they wanted, whether they shouted their request in English, French, Japanese, Russian, German, Chinese—all of the major cultures on board. It was as if the room concentrated, amplified, and recreated their own efforts of recollection; it seemed the more a person concentrated on their memories, the greater clarity to the illusions.

The crew at once saw the potential of the discovery, and began to show each other their old homes on Earth, their favorite places the others had never been to.

After Kansier's decision to allow the entire crew to use the room, it soon became clear that a system of organization was necessary, because everybody wanted time in the holo-room. A time of equal duration was scheduled for each person on board, but those who had requested going in large groups were allowed to compile their minutes together, as long as they did so after 0600 hours, when all of the children on board had left school and Dr. Droessler's patients no longer needed the room. Some of the crew still waited for their assigned time as the exploration continued over the next few weeks. Erin and Ho-ling had joined the scouting parties together during their off-duty hours, but as the signs of danger diminished, the number of volunteers increased by inverse proportions. The last of the sections to be searched were further down into the ship, far below the centrally located crew quarters and bridge, down corridors that led to a section of the ship that was for the most part inaccessible.

"That's it," one of the others ahead announced, and Ho-ling turned around to join the group at the last intersection.

"Wait a minute," Erin motioned her back. "Look—there's a doorway here—it looks as though it might—" at her touch, the doors slid apart. Ho-ling jumped back, but Erin cautiously entered the room. Strange lights of instrumentation panels cast a pale fluorescence into the small room. Erin heard the noise of the others arriving behind her in the doorway but did not turn around. Something else had caught her attention.

A small sea of slightly opaque, blue-tinted rectangular canisters filled the room in even columns and rows, at a guess about thirty. The lids were clear enough that the contents were visible, obscured only by the crust of an ice-like material along the inside edges.

Erin peered in the gloom at the haunting face of a dead man.

_Factum abiit, monumenta manent._ The event is past, the memorial of it remains.

—Ovid

### Chapter Nine

"Dr. Knightwood, I think you and Zhdanov had better get down here!" was the message she had received; now it replayed itself over again and again in her mind. Knightwood had pulled Zhdanov from his laboratory without a protest—he knew she would not interrupt his delicate experiment unless she had a good reason. The two of them checked Kansier's position as they headed towards the elevation device. Kansier was no longer on the bridge. His wrist communicator showed that he was traveling in the same direction as they.

Even with the use of the moving corridors, it took ten minutes for them to reach the section where the call had come from. As they approached the last corridor, they met up with Cheung and the team that had come from the bridge, including Kansier, Dimitriev, Ross, Kusao, Anderson, and Kim-Han—Captain Kolesar had been on hand when the transmission arrived and was left in charge of the bridge.

Erin Mathieson and Ho-ling Chen stood by the door of a darkened room among a scouting party of about ten; Major Johannsen pointed into the room as he explained—his had been the voice Knightwood heard.

"I was at the end of this corridor when Lieutenant Mathieson discovered this place. See for yourself—but I warn you, prepare yourself for something shocking."

Zhdanov's curiosity was momentarily sidetracked by a vague feeling of dissatisfaction—Erin Mathieson had again been at the root of another discovery. Odds were it could no longer be ruled coincidence; she was clearly in contact with whatever force governed the ship, though for what reason he could not imagine. But he put his concerns aside for later. For now, he wanted to know exactly what it was that she had found.

Kansier entered the room, followed by Dimitriev, who took the proffered beacon from Johannsen. Knightwood and Zhdanov were about to follow when Kansier turned back and called through the doorway.

"I want lieutenant Mathieson to come in here and tell us exactly what happened and what she's done so far."

Knightwood followed Erin into the room and waited until her eyes adjusted to the dimness.

"The door must have been opened by the power loss. I came in here and saw those—"

Watching where Erin pointed, Knightwood cast down the coruscated light of her beacon onto a rectangular box and sucked in her breath.

The sea of diaphanous, blue-tinted coffins held thirty-one humanoid beings.

* * * * *

"Are they dead?" Major Dimitriev asked, as Knightwood and Zhdanov moved away from the container they were investigating. The others, taking Kansier's lead, had gone to wander among the bodies. Dimitriev stopped and gazed down at what was clearly a woman's face.

Her sharp features and long hair reminded him of some forgotten face he had known long ago.

She could have been human, he observed. Then on closer inspection he realized that the translucent blue-tinted canister had nothing to do with the fact that her skin and hair appeared pale grey. The top of the canister was clear like glass or transparent metals, like the room near that metallic sphere in the engine room.

"Who are they?" he called to the scientific duo. As he leaned over the canister, he noticed that the woman in the coffin was wearing the same pale silvery blue uniform as he.

Zhdanov looked up. "Judging from what we have seen, I would say that these _people_ are or perhaps I should say _were_ the inhabitants of _Discovery._ "

"Then they are dead?" Kansier asked.

Zhdanov shook his head. "I don't know—Knightwood's sending for our scanning equipment. They may be in some form of suspended animation."

"Then who could have put them here?" Kim-Han asked, wondering if that person were still around somewhere. The others absorbed the suggestion, and reflexively glanced around the room.

"If they are in some kind of suspended animation, perhaps no one was needed to activate these devices. We have seen already that the _Discovery's_ computer controls much of the ship." Cheung responded.

"These people remind me of the Charon aliens," Erik Ross commented, wiping his hand on the surface of one, but the ice-crystals had formed on the inside.

"Hmm... what's this?" Zhdanov suddenly mused. "Some kind of writing?" Knightwood reappeared beside him and nodded.

"Just like the symbols we found on the calendar—like the symbols on the uniforms we're wearing," she reached down and stroked the alien nameplate over her heart. "Are they all marked?" she asked, and rushed to look at the coffins on the same front row. At the third name she stopped, a puzzled frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. "I could swear that's the same script from the first uniform we found—I must have looked at the letters a hundred times—" she glanced up to look at the figure inside and stopped.

"Oh my God," she breathed, and the others headed over to her instinctively. "It's him," she whispered, "the man in the picture."

Behind Knightwood, Erin approached the coffin, glancing down at the familiar words on the side that resolved once more into the name _Fielikor Kiel._

* * * * *

When the two technicians finally arrived with the scanners, the group had already taken digital impressions of the faces and correlating symbols. Only one of the containers had no nameplate, but the team could not come up with a reason why his name had not been preserved.

"Perhaps we've just assumed that these are names—they may be ranks, and in that case, the last person may not have been a person of relative importance." Koslov suggested.

"...just put it down there," Knightwood was saying to the technicians. The others waited while she activated the machines; a minute or so would pass before they warmed up, so Knightwood returned to Erin's side in front of the third coffin. The entire assembled company had spent some time wandering among the alien bodies, observing them, but Knightwood and Erin had spent by far the most time regarding the man whose picture the Blue Stripes had found on their first exploration of the ship while waiting for the scanners to arrive.

She knew his face so well, but no amount of study had prepared Knightwood for the actual sight of him, the creature whose image had been the one and only representation of the _Discovery's_ original crew before now.

The man from the picture was clad like the other encased humanoids, wearing one of the silver-blue uniforms Knightwood herself now wore. They were all unspeakably beautiful, these unearthly creatures that surrounded her, but she found herself most drawn to the man who had been in the picture.

His eyes were shut as though he slept. Short, ice-white hair glinted in the light of the Earth beacons, though the strange quality of the casing softened his features and the brightness of his hair. To Knightwood, his face was almost perfectly formed. His small, elfin ears gave the impression of a mischievous nature; even in death a faint smile seemed not to have parted willingly from his lips. His face was angular but not severe. But though the handsomeness of his features lent the appearance of youthfulness to his face, he was fully grown, lean, with long legs, and broad, muscular shoulders. His form one might call ideal for speed and sinewy strength, Knightwood observed.

He must have died not long after that picture was taken, Knightwood thought, suddenly and uncharacteristically overcome with grief and pity. How she wished she could have truly seen him smile, this creature before her, rather than be haunted by an image of him from some day long since passed! He had likely died eons before the human race had even risen to take possession of the Earth.

"Strange," Erin said. "Strange, to be so beautiful, and who knows what he was like on the inside?"

"What do you mean?" Knightwood demanded, gazing back at the form that was the handsomest of all the aliens, even given that they were all far more beautiful than any Earthling she had ever seen. Knightwood glanced at the girl. Erin was extraordinarily lovely herself, so much that a lot of men loved her and many women thought she was vain. Knightwood had never thought about it before, but now she understood what Erin was saying. Great beauty or talent made some people uncomfortable.

"I don't think people really see those who are as handsome for what they are beneath the exterior. Do you think any one liked him for who he was, Knightwood?"

"I—I don't know," Knightwood admitted.

"I don't know, either. He might have been a monster, on the inside, but I hope he was a good man."

For the first time, Knightwood began to wonder what he had done, what kind of man he had actually been.

"And yet we _can_ admire people like this alien man as long as we don't know them personally." Knightwood laughed, mussing Erin's hair with affection. "But we're talking about aliens here, Erin. And they all look pretty much the same—"

"To _us_ ," Erin pointed out.

The scanners abruptly signaled that they had fully charged. Knightwood signaled that they would shelve this discussion for later, if there was ever any time to return to it.

"What about this plate?" Koslov repeated, further away, addressing Zhdanov. "Some kind of occupation or rank, do you think?"

"I think they are names," Erin interrupted, returning to the main argument. Zhdanov turned to her.

"But can you explain why the last over there hasn't got one?" Zhdanov asked. "Surely a species so advanced to have built the _Discovery_ wouldn't have forgotten to include a man's name on his coffin?"

"If they are dead," Kansier reminded him. "But perhaps the lieutenant is right. Maybe the man was to be punished for some crime, and given an anonymous 'burial'. We can't rule anything out. Even as you say, they may not have been able to get a name on his coffin in time. Remember the state the ship was in when the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks went in for the first time? All of the doors had been left ajar—everything was a mess. It looked as if they'd left in a big hurry."

"You mean before they abandoned the ship they had to give their dead some kind of resting place?" Cheung saw Kansier's line of thought. "Then why didn't they just take them with them, or leave them, or cast them into space?"

Kansier narrowed his eyes. "Would you leave your comrades without seeing to their proper burial if you could? We don't know what these people believed, but we couldn't get in here until the blast cut power to this area. My guess is they hoped no one would ever find this place. I'd say—we can see they took care of their dead—no matter what kind of hurry they might have been in."

"What if these were the wounded?" Kusao asked. Kansier, Cheung, and Zhdanov stopped, and turned to regard Knightwood, who was now busy taking measurements. As if on cue, she looked up.

"No," she announced evenly. "They seem to be dead." She swallowed, ignoring the open-mouthed expressions. "But I could be wrong—I'm having difficulty analyzing them—they started emitting some bizarre energy fluctuations when I turned the machine on—but that's not the worst of it. These coffins seem to be sucking the energy from this machine—I'll bet the canisters' mechanisms protect them from laser weaponry." Despite the problem, Knightwood didn't sound very displeased.

"Incredible," Scott breathed.

"Isn't it?" Knightwood agreed. "The coffin is made of a dense crystalloid alloy, not unlike the materials we've already come across," she continued, contemplating as she explained. "But whatever they are, they're almost impregnable. I can't explain what's going on, but the machine doesn't pick up the smallest scintilla of life functions. If this man were in some form of suspended animation, we'd be able to see the energy exchange system that supports him—there's nothing of that kind—the coffins are only set up to protect the man inside from harm."

"What about the ice inside?" Erik Ross objected.

"Well, it isn't ice at all—they're some form of crystallic substance. Perhaps they are what is preserving the bodies from decay. I know what you're thinking—I thought at first they might have achieved some form of cryogenic sleep, but the temperatures are far too high on the outside for anything of that kind."

"Can we open them?" Kansier asked.

"Yes, I believe given some time, we might figure out a way to get the containers to open. An autopsy will tell us more than I can give you right now," Knightwood cleared her throat.

"Leave them alone," Erin said, stepping from behind Kansier, her voice barely audible.

"What?" Knightwood cried, startled. There was an ominous note in Erin's voice, though the tone had remained calm. Knightwood was reminded of Erin's sudden speech before the UESF Council and sidestepped away from her without knowing why she had.

"They've been at peace all this time." Erin continued in the same low, even voice. "Someone took great measures to ensure that they would not be disturbed. Why can we not honor the wishes of _Discovery's_ creators and leave them alone?"

"She's right," Kansier nodded decisively. "We have no business defiling the dead."

"But there's so much we might learn from them—" Knightwood began, but trailed off, seeing Kansier's expression. "Well, I can see it's not going to do any good to argue with you people! I guess for now, until I can get you to reverse your decision, science will just have to suffer from the loss." She looked over towards the handsome face she had come to know almost as well as her own, the face in the picture she had observed countless times, and again remembered his smile. She was less angry about not dissecting him than she thought, even though she was a scientist and never minded dissecting anything.

_Sleep well, my friend_ , she thought fondly.

The silent presence in the room regarded them with approval.

* * * * *

"Project the home planet of _Discovery's_ creators," Knightwood called into the echoing holo-room. She had returned there later that evening, shortly after Kansier forbid further access into the "Memorial Room". Knightwood had no intention of disobeying the Captain; but he had created a permanent watch by the room in case his order might not be obeyed by all of the ship board scientists.

Knightwood had hurried away after the team left the Memorial Room, leaving Zhdanov and Cheung to begin the analysis of the measurements. She had another idea in mind and was anxious to test it.

Many of the crew and scientists had been requartered in the nearby new crew sections, but the transfers were not to be completed until the ship had been fully explored. The process of moving was slated to begin the next morning at 0600—only five hours away. And Knightwood knew she had to go alone.

But the _Discovery_ computer wasn't responding. "Show me the home world of the creatures we discovered," Knightwood repeated, but again no response came.

"If you know, show me where our alien pursuers came from," she waited, but nothing happened.

"Show me the Hulmua Lake on Tiernan," she asked, and a strange but awesome alien landscape formed around her, the scene she remembered from their short visit to the third planet of Tiernan. "So, you are listening to me, then." She glanced around the room, eyeing the walls—but there was no sign of this room's computer terminal, the main force she suspected behind _Discovery's_ actions. Maybe the original inhabitants had abandoned the ship because the computer had gone haywire.

"Some reason why you're not showing me the grey-skinned people's home planet?" she asked as if her audience were a human, capable of emotions and selfish whims. "Fine," she shrugged, "have it your way."

* * * * *

"Not again," Lieutenant Kusao awoke to the sound of his personal frequency—the high pitched shriek told him he was needed on the bridge immediately.

They must have jumped through the wormhole while he was asleep, he thought. He got up quickly and pulled on the alien flight uniform that had become everyday attire. He felt strange emerging from his soundproof quarters into a corridor full of his fellow officers also on their way. Kusao almost missed his roommates, but he liked the new privacy of his own space.

"God, I'm tired," he grumbled as he left.

Along with the other bridge officers, he had been quartered in the new crew wing close to the corridor that elevated the crew in seconds to the bridge, located near the very height and in the center of the ship, protected by a ridge of overlapping metal that created the large observation window. The three other dimensions had been constructed to appear seamless, but a few tiny features—such as the casemate surrounding the main gun and auxiliary weapons—disrupted the even perfection of the top and sides of the ship. The hairline cracks that disguised them projected the weaponry in battle.

Kusao often reflected that only a few armor plates protected the "brain" of the bridge crew from space, but he had faith in the _Discovery's_ shields.

"What's happening?" he asked Erik Ross, who had been quartered nearby as the two headed to the bridge elevator.

"We emerged right on top of a planet—the ship's about to draw into orbit." Erik said, rubbing his eyes. It appeared as though he had been awake most of the night.

Kusao's eyes widened. "Wait a minute—how do you know?"

Erik shook his head and laughed. "I was awake when it happened. I had my viewscreen on—guess I missed the old porthole windows on the _Stargazer_. Anyway—suddenly there it was. A big green sea—and we weren't exactly slowing down.

"How close are we?"

"My guess is we'll hit the upper atmosphere any second. We were entering the magnetosphere when I left—" Suddenly the floor echoed with a deep rumbling noise. "Well, folks, we're here," he said with a hollow, nervous laugh.

* * * * *

"That wasn't a very smooth stop," Kansier observed, then looked at the image coming through the vidscreen holo-monitor as the rest of his bridge crew arrived. "You'd think the stabilizers we found would have deadened the impact into orbit."

"I think _Discovery_ is being dramatic today, sir," Dimitriev said.

"You may be right." Kansier laughed at the ridiculous comment. "Well, let's look at what we've got. Scanners?"

"Fourth planet, class M star system—equatorial temperature 36 degrees Celsius, about 23 though where we've landed—somewhere in the southern hemisphere." Lieutenant Rosner said. "The nitrogen atmosphere is similar to Earth, but less carbon dioxide and a lot more oxygen content, similar air pressure—precipitation and weather patterns very much like Earth, similar magnetosphere and ozone layer—though slightly thicker. Volcanism suggests surface crust slightly thinner than Earth."

"Hassan, is the atmosphere breathable—no sign of lethal microorganisms?" Kansier asked.

"Yes, from what I can tell." Bio-scanning specialist Hassan responded. "Our terrestrial scanner shows some signs of microorganisms, but they aren't lethal to human beings. We have to go down and test to be sure, though. I suggest any landing party receive immunity-booster inoculations to be safe. But we should be able to breathe freely—except that the increased oxygen will slow down our natural breathing rate per minute."

"Luminosity from yellow sun not much brighter than a sunny day on Earth, but there are a lot of clouds blocking the solar rays. I would guess that the area directly below us is safe for a scouting party," Lieutenant Lacour suggested.

"All right, but let's let the scientists lead this one." Kansier nodded.

Knightwood's face suddenly appeared in the vidscreen in front of a small group of onboard scientists busying themselves with equipment. From her smile, he surmised she had been monitoring the bridge's reaction for the last few minutes.

"Knightwood," Kansier said and nodded. "I see your team is ready to go. That all of you?"

Knightwood smiled. "Ah, you know the others. Field work isn't their forté." She shrugged, smiling. "Signing off."

"It's odd," Kansier turned away to the viewport as the image faded, giving a slight laugh of amusement. "How many inhabitable worlds are there in the universe? It seems _Discovery_ is taking us on a guided tour of most of them—but why?" He wondered aloud, drawing an uncomfortable silence from the bridge crew.

And we are a captive audience, with no choice but to explore what it permits us to see, with no explanations, with no apparent reason—

"Any officers in mind for this one?" Dimitriev asked. Kansier hesitated, then made eye contact with Erin.

"We haven't received any transmissions, but the planet does show a variety of vegetation. In case there are intelligent life forms present, I would like to have lieutenant Mathieson accompany the party, considering her past success in communicating with alien life forms. And lieutenant Kusao—his past resourcefulness might also come in handy. Also lieutenants Ross and Nguyen. And Major Dimitriev—can you accompany the others and represent the _Discovery_ in case we make contact with any intelligent creatures?"

"Yes, sir," Dimitriev nodded, then headed to the Great Bay where the scout shuttle was being loaded.

* * * * *

"Wonder why the _Discovery_ brought us here," Kusao mused as the shuttle descended from the Great Bay door.

"It's worth checking the place out since we're here." Nguyen opined. "We've got the time, unless you're in a hurry to get back to deep space."

Nonetheless, the team considered Kusao's question as the shuttle descended to the planet and began to move across a smooth sand-colored plateau. The ship analyzer had already told them its composition, the percentage and type of igneous rocks in the mix—it had the appearance of sandstone. That fact had already puzzled Knightwood, considering that the terrain should have been submerged under water at some point in the planet's history for sedimentary rock to form. Before the shuttle left, a team had gone out to extract a deep sample, but there were no fossilized plant, animal, or similar lifeforms, suggesting again that the landscape was not like the terrestrial variety of sedimentary rock.

The ship's vidigital footage had shown that these sedimentary areas were dispersed among larger expanses of green seas like small oceans, and a variety of ferny vegetation that grew in large jungle-like areas. However, the planet showed some few large bodies of water comparable to terrestrial oceans, and no recognizable continents divided by water, only twisting continental masses. The homogeneous mix of open land, jungle, and green seas suffused the entire planet, except the small ring of ice that had formed at the poles.

Having found few traces of advanced life forms in the small section where the first shuttle had landed, the second shuttle headed for a nearby jungle area. They stopped as one of the automated probes took a small section of the vegetation and put it into the cargo hold. From their position, the team had proposed to divide into two, one unit heading over to check the composition of the strange green seas, the other checking out the rest of the jungle area.

They had still not detected any animal forms.

"Maybe there isn't anyone home." Erik Ross suggested.

"Hmmm. All right, Zhdanov, Urbani, Cheung, Romanik, Ritsma, and I are going over to take samples of the green seas. We'll need an escort—Kusao, Mathieson, Rabalais, and Garrick. Dimitriev, Ross, and Nguyen—do you have any objections to taking on the jungle?"

Dimitriev nodded, understanding that either position was vulnerable, and that the scientists would need more coverage. And aside from that, he was struck by the thought that if nothing untowards happened while they were exploring, he might at last manage to obtain Ross' undivided attention. There were a few things they needed to sort out.

"We'll meet back here in an hour." Zhdanov said as the three of them stowed extra weapons in their packs and disappeared into the foliage.

* * * * *

The jungle was dense with small, half human sized waxy green "plants" underneath a high canopy of tree-like growth, though the tall waxy green stalks extended to the very roof of the canopy and branched into broad, flat "leaves" that blocked out the bright sun. They could hear no noise. No wind stirred, and the soft, peat ground deadened the sound of their footsteps.

Lieutenant Nguyen began to walk ahead, intrigued by the beginnings of some lavender colored blossoms in sponge-like undergrowth under the trees.

Erik had no desire to remain with Dimitriev, and increased his steps. But a hand on his shoulder slowed him.

"Just a moment. There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time. Now seems about as good a time as any—since we've no choice but to stay as a group."

"If it's about Erin, then you can forget it," Erik said angrily, his eyes flashing. "For some reason I can't fathom I know she still admires you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you have her." Erik wrenched out of Dimitriev's grip.

"Erin?" Dimitriev echoed, confused. "No—that's not it—"

"That's right—I heard you were getting married." Erik said, shaking his head. "So why don't you stop playing the field? Don't deny it, 'cause I've seen the way you look at her when you don't think anyone's looking. Maybe you just don't have the guts to decide whom you really want—"

"Listen." Dimitriev said quietly, his eyes never leaving Erik's face. "I'm not talking to you about Erin. What I have to say concerns your brother Justin."

"Justin," Erik swallowed, reacting as though he had been slapped. "How do you know about him—" he began to protest, regarding Dimitriev suspiciously.

"Your brother—Erik, he was my best friend." Scott said slowly, his voice full of admiration. The familiarity of his tone annoyed Erik, so much that Erik harbored a desire to punch him it the jaw. His eyes narrowed on his superior officer; he would have struck him in other circumstances, and if it wouldn't mean about a month of solitary confinement. Wait a minute—did _Dimitriev_ just say that _he_ had been Justin's best friend?!!!

"We met each other at the UESRC and trained together for the Charon Offensive," Dimitriev continued. "I'd never met anyone so courageous, so dependable—he never let any of us down, no matter what happened. He gave his life to defend a group of us, hedged in against the Charon aliens' ship—"

"If you were so close, why didn't he ever mention you?" Erik bit out, refusing to hear any more. Scott could detect the sorrow in Erik's voice, the beginnings of stings in Erik's eyes that made his voice more nasal, masked through clenched teeth.

Scott looked away, observing the long line of trees beside their path. "He didn't see much of his family after he went to the UESRC. And I did see you—on the day we graduated. But I left early to visit with my father, and the _Stargazer_ was sent out the next day."

"Why are you telling me about this now?" Erik asked, his voice still bitter. "Do you expect me to be your friend all of a sudden? My brother was too good-natured to acknowledge anything bad about any one; no doubt you had him fooled. Oh yes, I know you too well. Someone like you doesn't appreciate the things he has. You've got a fiancée. And still you go around acting like Erin's secret champion or something. Everyone could see how worried you were when you followed her to the holo-room, how you follow after her everywhere to make sure she's safe—even now. What's worse is that you deny it to yourself."

"Erik—"

"Don't even bother. I'm not blind. It's obvious you can't even make the simplest decisions in your personal life. You've got a fiancée, so you shouldn't be looking at other women—not so closely, anyway. You'd stop trying to gratify your own selfish needs to be seen as some kind of hero. Maybe then you'd do what's right and let us all get on with our lives."

"Harsh words. Look," Scott said, trying to recollect his thoughts, "I just wanted to finally tell you about your brother, tell you that your brother was thinking about you before he died. He wanted to transfer back to the UESRC to spend some time with you. He had cleared the ship but came back to save the rest of us when more aliens appeared and cut us off—"

"You really do like to watch people suffer, don't you? What makes you think I want to hear this?" Erik bit out, and Dimitriev looked away.

"All right. If that's how you feel, I won't mention it again." Scott said evenly and walked on ahead.

* * * * *

"It's some kind of weak solution—water, minerals, and silt—and a natural organic fertilizer, like peat—" Romanik continued. "But further down the water content increases, as if the top layer were recently formed." He added, shaking his head in confusion.

"That's it, we'll bring in one more cross-section," Zhdanov directed the others who were busy loading another sample of the native jungle vegetation. He headed over to Knightwood and Romanik, leaving Cheung in charge of the group finishing the work.

"Whew—guess I haven't kept up my physical training recently," Kusao sighed, and sat down on the ground, his knees propped up. He could not tell that the surface gravity was barely below the Earth's after half an hour of hard work. "A cold drink would do about now," he laughed, removing his helmet to imbibe the rich air.

Knightwood had been the first to test the air, in hopes that they could bring back some compressed atmosphere back to replenish the air that had been lost in the recent space battle. The air pressure in the ship had dropped to resemble that of the high altitudes on Earth, but not enough to cause any negative symptoms yet—only signs of fatigue among the crew had been reported thus far.

"Why don't you take a sip—there's plenty of water over there," Erin pointed to the calm green sea to their left and received Kusao's narrowed eyes and dubious expression as her answer.

Then he looked up. A noise had disturbed the silence of the environment.

The girl had stepped through the jungle clearing, her terrified eyes regarding the Japanese lieutenant. With pale green skin, long green hair and green eyes, she looked as though she were a part of the jungle that had come to life.

She shouted, a soft wordless wail pleasant to hear, like the plaintive cry of some exotic bird.

Kusao cried something unintelligible in surprise.

Those who are faithless know the pleasures of love; it is the faithful who know love's tragedies.

—Oscar Wilde

### Chapter Ten

Erin looked at the girl and sensed her fear—the girl, somehow sensing Erin's empathy and presence in her mind, gave Erin a look that passed for incredulity. Minutes before, she had been sleeping, her long, smooth green legs spiked deep into the ground to allow her white feet to absorb water and nutrients as her green limbs fed her. She had awakened to visit the life waters for increased sustenance—never had she had reason to fear any intruders by the sacred waters.

And suddenly she had come face to face with strange creatures, in the same humanoid form as she, but they appeared as if the very soil had given birth to them unaided, strangely pigmented, wrapped in some unknown form, a material like that of the egg of the creator.

She had wandered ever since her _hennah_ —the period of time after which she had grown mobile leg features. She had never known the creature that had planted her. But she knew instinctively that when the time approached, and the long cool period ended, she would cut off her own arm and bury it in the sacred soil outside the jungle, the cultivated sands, now empty. As her people had for thousands of generations, she would be reborn in her own first identical daughter, as she had been the first daughter and product of regenesis.

She had grown under the surface of the sacred sands among the others until the day when her half-formed body broke through into the sun's light. There, she had drunk in the soil's nutrients and fed from the sun's energy on her body until her legs formed, allowing her the freedom to join the world. She wandered alone, meeting others of her own kind waiting to plant their first child, both seed-holders and seed-changers. Others who had ring-scars but had not yet regenerated the arm limb also wandered near the life waters, but they would soon join their people in the jungle.

As a seed-holder, she would soon require the enzyme from a seed-changer to plant her future seed in the forest, but unlike the first child, this child would not be identical to her. It could become either a seed-holder or a seed-changer that never left the jungle—their kind, the seed-children, had created the civilization of their race and kept the ancient records of their people's history.

First children like her needed no records. She had been born with the memories of a thousand generations before her, and though the intrusion of these visitors alarmed her, she instinctively knew that they had not been the first to intrude upon her people.

Her ancestor-mother had met the grey-skinned visitors near the same place, long ago. They had been able to understand her thoughts and communicate their own to her without speaking her language, and she had learned that they came to tell of their Great Federation. She had taken them to her people in the jungle, to ask if they wished to join the other worlds in their prosperity, but the people whom the visitors called _lom-vaia_ had no need of the Federation.

They, the lom-vaia, had only one question to ask—where had the creator come from? The visitors reacted with confusion, and the record-keeper explained. The creator had arrived in a moving silver egg, in the days when the lom-vaia lived as immobile brethren with the trees, though the lom-vaia had already grown aware of their surroundings.

Then the egg had come to the ground, shaking the planet and sending tremors every lom-vaia felt and remembered. A moving creature, one who could move just as the great roiling seas, had emerged and come to them. He had fallen under their limbs until their whisperings woke him.

The creator had not been like them. His motivations they did not understand, even after he had mastered their language—a combination of thought-communications and wind calls. He had gone to his egg and brought many waters to them, taking their seed-children away into his egg and bringing them back changed. Planting them in the sacred lom-vaia fields among their kind, they had grown to maturity listening to his stories of a great vanished land and many creatures that moved like him. Then he had called them to follow him and see the world for themselves. They had taken their roots from the soil, and for the first time they were able to move to the sacred waters only a few of their kind had truly known before.

After many generations, the new children grew stronger and were better able to see, hear and communicate. In time, the elder stationary lom-vaia living in the sacred fields returned to the soil, the last of their kind to rejoin their ancestors there in the unbroken cycle. The sacred fields became the sacred sands, and the mobile children found a home among the jungles, creating a civilization of their own. They learned to cultivate the sacred seas to sustain them when wandering took their roots from the soil for too long, and lived thousands of generations, becoming more and more like the creator.

But they still did not understand his emotions. That was why he said he had changed them, which had allowed them to see all the world. He had suffered from a blight called loneliness. There were no other moving creatures on their world. They did not know why he had come alone or why he did not return to his own kind if it would have cured his disease, and the sacred waters he drank did not sustain or cure him in the same way as it healed them. The creator ate only the leaves of plants in his private garden that he had taken from his egg. They wished he might grow his own leaves so that he could drink the sun, but though he had changed them, he himself could not change.

Then after the cool period had passed thousands of times, the creator of their kind ceased to move and became one with the soil once more.

Erin regarded the woman and thought a question—in her long ancestor-memory, could she recall the creator's name, or the name of the creator's civilization?

She thought of his name, but they could not pronounce it—it had sounded like zanka. The name of his great civilization had been Enor.

* * * * *

"Who are you?" lieutenant Kusao asked, recollecting himself moments after the strange girl had appeared. Then he hit his head with the palm of his hand, realizing that she would not understand him.

Knightwood and Zhdanov had appeared, and cautiously offered her the vial of the sacred water that Zhdanov held. The girl remembered the strange movement the creator had taught them to show acceptance and twisted the corners of her mouth.

She had neither teeth nor a tongue, but her smile was surprisingly beautiful, conveying a purity of thought and action without self-consciousness. She took the vial in dexterous hands and held it up to her lips, silently drawing in the life-giving solution and returned the vial to the creature that had offered it. _Could he have been from the creator's world?_ the thought came to her. Her first ancestor-mother's memory recalled the creator's vials that she had drunk, solutions that had changed her thoughts and the very form of her body.

"What is she?" Kusao asked the scientists, regarding her with wonder.

"I don't know—some kind of sentient plant species," Cheung suggested. "But what explains the human form?"

"Well, now we know why we didn't pick up any traces of large animal life forms," Romanik cleared his throat. "But are there any more of her kind?" he wondered aloud.

"The rest of them have probably not arisen from the ground. The sun rose only a few hours ago." Erin interrupted.

Knightwood turned to regard her dubiously. "Hmm. That's a good hypothesis, but we'll have to scout the area and check it out. We'll need to contact the ship and let them know what's going on," she added.

"Done," lieutenant Garrick returned to the shuttle to contact the other members of their team and the _Discovery_ bridge.

"No—we should not disturb them while they replenish themselves," Erin suggested.

"And how do you know?" Knightwood asked. She was beginning to suspect that Erin Mathieson was keeping something to herself. The thought suddenly occurred to her that the girl she knew as Erin Mathieson could actually be a product of the deliberate continuation of Earth's genetic "super-being" experiments. Perhaps she had been hidden in the rural zones of Earth to escape detection, and only accidentally found when the _Discovery_ crashed in the rural zone near the UESRC. How else could Erin have mastered the ability to understand alien speech? Unless—in that case, she already knew everything Knightwood thought. Knightwood shrugged off the ludicrous idea—if Erin were telepathic, then she would have contacted Knightwood telepathically by now, surely.

"The girl told me," Erin answered evenly. Then she furrowed her brow, listening to a soft whisper like a gentle breeze, and said, "she wonders if we have come from 'the Federation'."

"She told you," Knightwood repeated, then stared, confused. Dared she believe that Erin was right? she thought; could it be that Erin had understood the strange creature? If what she said was true, though, it was no wonder that the girl had not run from them—she had seen visitors before. That would mean that there must be an intelligent, highly advanced race somewhere in the vicinity. Perhaps since she recognized them and had mistaken them for inhabitants of this Federation, they had been like the humans the crew had heard lived on Tiernan. _A human Federation?_ Knightwood repeated the question in her mind. Was that possible? Was the Earth merely an ancient colony who had lost contact with its mother world?

Erin smiled, understanding the lom-vaia girl. To the girl, all animal humanoid forms were tantamount—like the creator—but not like her own people. That was why she had assumed they had come from the Federation, though she did not even understand what the Federation had been.

"Can you tell her where we come from and what we're doing?" Knightwood thought to ask, hoping to take advantage of their good fortune. "Can you speak with her as well as understanding her words?" she added.

"Yes, I think so," Erin sighed and took a deep breath. Suddenly the same soft whispers emerged from Erin's lips, startling the girl and the crew who were listening. But the lom-vaia girl's face appeared to comprehend the meaning of what she had heard.

As Erin spoke, Kusao took a step forward, entranced by the alien. He could not seem to help himself. He didn't know why he wanted to get a closer look at her, but he didn't stop to reason it out. As he drew between Erin and the alien girl, he could smell the sweet fragrance like lavender, the scent of her skin.

Then, as Erin was projecting thoughts to the girl, Kusao's thoughts and memories appeared from nowhere.

In that second, the girl took a step back.

* * * * *

Beautiful Kyoto! How he missed his home there, back in Japan, before he had gone to live at the Kyoto Academy to begin pilot training. He missed the delicate pink cherry blossoms in spring, the birds, birch trees, and azaleas, the natural spas, falls, and upland regions. He missed the ruins of the ancient past, the mountains and glades that were home to all forms of verdant life, yet most of all he missed his family.

He hadn't been home in so long, not since the days in childhood when he and his two older brothers and little sister had been able to wander off in secret, barely able to climb onto the roof of the ancient Shinto temple that had long been abandoned in the neighboring rural zone.

Then one by one Kusao's older brothers and finally he himself had left for training to defend the war-torn Earth. In the two weeks of leave before Kusao left for the final three years at the UESRC, he and his little sister May had used their yearly rural zone passes to go on an expedition to the rural zones, to visit the beautiful sights of their native land. Kusao had known this might have been his last chance, that he might never be coming home again.

Their first stop had been a celebrated climb to the top of the old man, Mount Fuji. An avid climber whenever he got the chance, Kusao had then pressed on to Mt. Mizugaki. They had then stayed a few days with their uncle in Karuizawa, where they had visited the breathtaking Shiraito Falls, neighboring Highlands and spas, and nearby Mt. Asama, surrounded by peach trees; from there they had gone on to Nikko, where they had climbed Mount Nantai by the icy waters of Lake Chuzenji and the spectacular Kegon Falls. Finally, they had gone to Mt. Bandai, surrounded by birch forest, springs, and crystalline lakes, second only in glory to Mt. Fuji.

During the last week near home in Kyoto, the remaining members of the Kusao family had gone to Lake Biwa and then to their traditional destination of Yoshino-Kumano, where they had paid their respects one last time to the glory of the Nachi Falls. At the end of their hurried sight-seeing, the family had decided to take a trip to the beach a ways from Kyoto, where Kusao had splashed May with salty waves, then buried her in the sand until she couldn't move.

The alien girl saw other remembered family trips across the planet to other cities and historical sights of the ancient Earth, but none so clearly as that last day when Kusao and May had said good-bye.

Then, after years spent in training and in space, she saw the horrors of the infiltration mission, as fresh in Kusao's mind as if it had taken place but yesterday. After that she witnessed the _Discovery's_ unexpected launch and the crew's long, unending journey across the unknown regions of space, their joys and tribulations in all of the months since they had been forced to leave their homes and loved ones behind.

When Kusao's memories faded, the girl stumbled backward and looked around as though to discover where they had gone to. Oh, the mountains! She had never seen such things before. Why did these memories yet linger in her mind, even though she knew they were not her own? Why did she regret them fading, and where was their rightful owner?

Where was he, the one who had given this gift to her, the one who had let her see so much she could never know, born of a race whose fate it was never to leave the sacred sands?

For a moment she did not dare to move. Finally, she knew, she understood the creator's word. She had never before known loneliness, even after years and generations of wandering alone. Yet now, though the fresh, bright world around her had not changed, it suddenly seemed somehow empty and forgotten. Her voice rose like a cold wind, mournful and melodic.

Was it a curse or a blessing? she thought, though she could not determine the answer. Like the creator, she was no longer ignorant of loneliness. With that knowledge, she would never again be the same.

* * * * *

The team that had gone to check out the jungle rendezvoused by the shuttle fifteen minutes later. The alien creature had stayed with them as soon as she spotted Kusao among the others; now she was seated beside the young Japanese lieutenant, keeping by his side as though attached to him, imitating his posture of elbows on knees. Kusao didn't seem to mind.

Zhdanov listened as Erin translated the memories of the girl, of a creator from the land of Enor and the alteration of the lom-vaia people. When the fighters returned, Knightwood rejoined the group to hear the tale as Erin explained it again for their benefit. "All done—we can return to the ship any time," she announced once Erin had finished.

"The girl has invited us to her people's civilization—I think she's referring to their city. The record-keepers will be able to tell us more about the creator, she says. We're welcome to stay as long as we wish. But will Colonel Kansier be needing us back?"

Kusao looked up expectantly at Zhdanov.

"Perhaps we can spare a few hours." Zhdanov shrugged. "Knightwood and I would like to determine if there are other human civilizations near here. But we'll need to get back to the ship with these samples. Then we can see about an extended visit, and possible reciprocating their invitation by letting some of them visit our ship."

The girl listened as Erin translated his answer, and broke into a natural smile. Taking Kusao's forearm into her own strong supple hand as she stood, she waited to lead the others back to the jungle.

* * * * *

_Dammit, they follow us everywhere_ , Kansier thought. The bridge radar specialist, Lieutenant Hans Rheinhardt, waited for his response. _But how do they always know where we are_? _How are they able to follow us—to match our speed, to anticipate our every action_?

"Where are they now?" he asked aloud.

"We can't determine the main ship's location, sir. But the alien fighter cruiser is definitely heading towards us," Lieutenant Rheinhardt updated.

"Contact the shuttle team and tell them to get back to the ship, lieutenant Wolf. The _Discovery's_ density shields are down—we've got to get out of here. The electromagnetic shield hasn't been working since the last battle."

"Yes, sir. I'll relay the message."

"And send out ten squadrons of fighters to protect them. They'll be out in the open."

"Yes, sir." Sekuwan Fish turned back to the communications console.

"Sir, the ship's engines aren't responding. We can't break orbit," one of the navigators, Lieutenant Lee turned around in the seat for further instructions.

_She won't take off without the others_ , Kansier thought, flummoxed. _And there's nothing we can do_.

"Make that fifteen squadrons." Kansier coughed. "Who knows how long we'll be here." _I hate to admit it_ , he thought, _but our lives are in_ Discovery's _hands_.

* * * * *

The other lom-vaia people had welcomed them to their city. The tall jungle trees had been woven together to form an irrigation system for the small clearing of sacred soil, the flat leaves joined together to collect pools of rainwater. And yet they had achieved the system without killing the living trees that fed the young seedling children.

The lom-vaia had no need for a roof; instead of drawing the canopy together, they had gently pushed the leaves apart overhead to let in the sky, the sun, and the rain. The inhabitants only returned under the canopy to escape the hottest time of the day.

The city had no walls or partitions, but was composed of living creatures, the lom-vaia themselves, who spent their time together enjoying the world and telling tales of their wanderings, of the strange vegetation to the south, and discussing better ways to transport the sacred sea water to the seed children. They had nothing much to do or to consider, and were content sitting in the sun.

The lom-vaia children stopped growing after reaching a height of five to six feet. Their green hair continued to grow, but their need for food decreased. As the more adventurous members ventured away to visit others of their kind and vary the composition of the seedling children, their need for energy again increased. The lom-vaia could only travel short distances without replenishing themselves, pushing their lower limbs down deep into the soil.

During the cool period, most of them clustered together to escape strong cold winds, but a few woke up at a time to bring more of the sacred life waters to the rest, to nourish the sacred soil where seedling children and mature lom-vaia waited for the longer days of sun to return.

The record-keeper spoke of the creator's egg far to the north. Long ago their people had taken the egg and buried it in the sands, but the creature had not grown to life again. No doubt the egg remained under the ground.

Erin finally told the others about the grey-skinned people that the record-keepers remembered. Listening to the stories, Knightwood felt a strange sensation of awe overpowering her. So, the _Discovery's_ original crew had been here, had invited the lom-vaia to join its Federation!

Now they had proof that two main powers had been at work—a Federation and the Empire they had heard of on Tiernan. She considered the facts evidence in support of her hypothesis that one of the powers had discovered the Earth and that the two races had rushed to claim the world. She wanted to believe that the Federation ship _Discovery_ and its compelling humanoid crew had discovered the Earth, that the Charon aliens were in fact representatives of the Empire that had attempted to reach the Earth first and conquer it; her mind balked at the possibility that the _Discovery's_ crew had been the usurpers, members of the Empire, whatever their intentions had been.

During the record-keeper's tale of the grey-skins' visit, the lom-vaia presented them with seedlings and invited them to eat. Zhdanov had just asked how the grey-skins communicated with them, and waited for Erin to translate the reply, moving aside as the lom-vaia man placed a large dried leaf before him.

"The same way we lom-vaia contact our brethren over great distances, in the ancient manner of our people." Erin answered after a pause. "Our silent song travels the wind—it lives in the air, and we can hear thousands of our own kind at once. The grey-skins spoke to us without words, their thoughts coming to us through the air but without sound. They were with us at once, and we understood them, and they could hear us without our speaking to the wind."

"Telepathy," Zhdanov nodded, and the word made an impact on Knightwood's gut feelings. She looked up at the face of Erin Mathieson, the girl who calmly translated these words that also explained _her_ inordinate abilities and behavior. _Perhaps it wasn't Cameron at all that changed her—perhaps it was Discovery itself that gives her this power._ Knightwood thought and shivered. _But how?_

"What is this?" Kusao asked the girl they had met, who was seated beside him, but he could not understand her reply.

Erin waited a moment and answered him. "They are from the seedlings they have cultivated since the creator guided them here. They are grown in every city on this planet in memory of him, but they have no use for them. They think that since we are like the creator—an animal in humanoid form—that we may require its sustenance as he did."

Kusao took a bite of a sweet and juicy, red bulbous fruit, almost the size and shape of an eggplant and laid it back upon the dried leaf. Minutes later, he felt almost giddy with energy, though he had only taken a few bites. The others enjoyed the fruit in silence, listening to the strange whispering voices of the lom-vaia. Eight hours had passed since they left the ship, and any food was welcome.

Knightwood asked if she might take some of the fruit with them, and the lom-vaia brought them several more of the seedlings and some other plants of the creator's they had not given them yet. The creator had preferred the red plant, but ate the others at times.

The team relaxed until twilight, enjoying the view of the starlit sky through the canopy. All around them, the lom-vaia were preparing to sleep, selecting a spot of soil to replant their roots. The alien girl remained beside Kusao a while longer, when Knightwood suggested someone return the samples to _Discovery._ The others appeared inclined to stay with the lom-vaia until morning to extend an invitation to visit the _Discovery_.

Kusao in particular thought it might be inhospitable to leave suddenly without informing their hosts, who were now mostly asleep.

But the signal from the ship changed everything.

* * * * *

Despite the sudden timing of the human team's new orders, the alien girl refused to leave them and guided them through the safest way back to the sacred seas. She took them on a new route that left the sleeping lom-vaia undisturbed, for as Erin explained, they could die if suddenly removed from the soil. Loud noises and reverberations too near the ground could shock them into awaking early. At the least they might lose their lower limbs and live a shorter life, immobile and dependent upon constant draughts of the sacred sea's life waters, no longer able to drink from the soil. The lom-vaia could regenerate an arm after the first-child, but they could no longer regrow the roots formed in the sacred soil with which they had been born.

When the team reached the shuttle, the aliens had arrived. Already they could see flashes of light in the crepuscular skies above, where the _Discovery's_ squadrons struggled to protect the shuttle below from the alien fighters. Once the scientists were safely aboard, the others hurried to their fighters to provide an escort back to the ship.

Kusao's engines had flared; he had finished checking his gauges and prepared to lift-off when he saw that the alien girl hadn't moved from the spot where their shuttle had been. He heard a loud crash to his left where Erik Ross evaded enemy laser fire, taking his fighter up. Then, to his dismay, the laser hit the jungle trees and set it on fire. Kusao heard the shriek of the lom-vaia echoing through the forest.

He watched as the Charon aliens broke through the Earth squadrons and converged on the surface, but still the lom-vaia girl stood her ground.

Suddenly Kusao realized that she _couldn't_ move. From what he had learned, he guessed that she had remained with them past the time when the lom-vaia needed sleep to replenish themselves. He did not know that she had fought fatigue to guide them back though the jungle, to be near the source of the memories recently added to her own.

She hadn't even the energy to push her legs into the soil; he now detected her slow movement towards the life waters that indicated she had stretched herself beyond her own limits. As enemy fire rained around her, she continued to inch towards the life source. He knew that she could not withstand a single contact with laser fire.

He could not bear to watch any longer. Without hesitation, Kusao pushed open the cockpit of his fighter and jumped the twelve feet to the ground. Unable to hear the shouts of his comrades, he ran to the water's edge and cupped his hands to bring the sea to the girl's lips. The single draught was enough to animate her, he saw with some relief, but he knew that her instinctive reaction would soon be to sleep and recover. But she couldn't sleep here! he thought. Desperation filled him as he she began to weaken. No, he just couldn't let her die, incinerated by the enemy's fire, unprotected in the open!

Before she could push her feet through the soil, he bent down and picked her up gently, then leaned forward to run to safety, shielding her body with his own as he watched the jungle's edge draw closer.

Then, just as he neared the end of the strip of soil between the jungle and the sea, he felt a searing pain burning across his back. The Earth-fabricated uniform, only a copy of the alien suits the others wore, had absorbed and deflected as much of the short-range blast from the alien ship behind him as it could, but the intensity of the energy had penetrated it at last, slowly burning flesh throughout his body.

He continued to the jungle, drawing upon an inner strength he didn't know he had, until many meters safe within the jungle, he slowly let go of the alien girl in his arms, content that he had saved her life.

She watched him silently and with a deep sorrow she had never known before, powerless as his body ceased to grow.

* * * * *

Erik stared. What was Kusao doing _abandoning his fighter_!? His transmission stopped the others from leaving the area, but at that moment a squadron of aliens had dropped upon them. They stayed to protect Kusao as best they could, joined by a few of the Earth fighters that had followed the aliens to the surface.

But Erik was too late to stop the blast. He watched the laserfire incinerate the area around his friend as if in slow-motion, then fired his own laser gun again and again in a fury of revenge at the small enemy fighter carrier's weak spot, near the engine. The engine exploded even more violently in the richly oxygenated atmosphere into a bright fireball, yet watching it gave Erik no feeling of satisfaction.

Kusao had made it to the trees—but hadn't returned.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here," he heard one of the Earth fighters say. But he had not seen the lom-vaia—and he had not known the amazing person lieutenant Kusao had been. Erik refused, heading his fighter towards the razed ground and to the edge of the jungle.

I've got to see what happened to him, he thought desperately, looking into the distance, where he could at last see the lom-vaia girl lying close to the motionless body of lieutenant Kusao. Erik looked away quickly, his eyes burning, as his bioscanner confirmed no human life signs.

Now he hesitated. Did he have any right to interfere? he wondered. Kusao had given his life for this girl, and whether or not he had the time to bury him, Erik suddenly realized that it would be wrong of him to take Kusao from her. She would no doubt want to take care of him in her own way; Erik stopped a moment, regarding the jungle, torn by indecision. He despaired leaving Kusao behind, leaving his cherished friend in this alien soil so far from the Earth. The fact that Kusao had died performing a noble, selfless act was small consolation.

Nevertheless, Erik would honor it. After a moment, he followed the others cutting a trail through the battle back towards the grounded _Discovery_.

* * * * *

With the Earth fighters pulling away, the enemy redoubled its efforts and pursued them back to the ship.

"They're going to follow us!" Knightwood screamed over the net.

The shuttle pressed forward as the squadrons doubled back to cut off the aliens from following it into the Great Bay. A beam of light emerged from the _Discovery's_ hull, radiating into hundreds of askew rays. The shuttle passengers watched in wonder as in between the Earth squadrons, the alien ships suddenly exploded, allowing the Earth fighters a clear path to return to the Great Bay; then as the last fighter passed into safety, the hull plate pulled into place with a deafening boom.

Dimitriev hurried to the bridge as the ship took off into space again, but a small assembly of blue-clad Earthlings watched in the observation window as the lom-vaia world diminished, and the great green seas and green plains faded into a clouded haze until the tiny sphere vanished from view.

* * * * *

The girl awoke and found his body beside her. She remembered the evening, the cries of her brethren that had burned to the ground. Lifting the man in her strong arms now renewed, she carried him across the jungle to the sacred soil and buried him deep in the cultivated sands.

She waited, days and nights, forgetting her own wanderings and the call to join the city dwellers, to release her seed child and live free with her people.

Finally, a young seedling pushed through the soil and into the sun's warm light. She recognized his kind, beloved face and waited for his eyes to open. He smiled and remembered her, and now he also understood her words.

She waited until his lower limbs grew free from the soil and took his hand to lead him to the city.

### Chapter Eleven

In the two and a half Earth weeks after the team left the lom-vaia planet, Erik Ross had been unable to clear the events of that day from his mind. He still found it difficult to accept Kusao's death—but the replacement on the bridge crew, Lieutenant Forster, reminded him of the fact daily. And, with the death of another so close to him, Erik couldn't hold back recollections of his brother.

Memories of Justin surfaced almost against his will to torment him at work on the bridge, at night as he slept. Events he had forgotten came to him anew, as if he had never really accepted his brother's death until that day on lom-vaia when Major Dimitriev began to describe the battle at Charon. Erik hadn't wanted to know the details, because until that moment, Justin had still been alive to him. He was still alive to him because Erik had not been there himself when Justin died.

Now Erik knew that Justin had lived another life at the UESRC, that perhaps he had changed and become someone Erik had never known. And if Dimitriev were telling the truth—then Justin had kept information about his friends and activities from his family, from his own brother. Dimitriev's words had offered more new pain than solace.

Erik requested the holo-room late one night after bridge duty, just before the timeslot Kusao had arranged some time before. Erik could not face sleep yet, not when his dreams were sure to return him again to the last battle. At the late hour of 0127, one of the other technicians was finishing with the room.

Erik sat in the holo-room, engulfed by his old home with his grandmother, then the UESRC. But inevitably his thoughts turned to Kusao, and then his brother. He left the holo-room and headed back to his quarters. If he could not escape them, then he might as well get some sleep.

Already another bridge crew member had taken Kusao's old room. Erik had gone with his other friends a few days ago to claim some small momentoes before the room was cleared. He had met the others from the shuttle team there—even Knightwood—and others who had met Kusao on the shuttle to Elphor. Dimitriev left when Erik arrived, but the others offered Erik Ross and James Garrick their sympathy.

On the way back to his quarters, Erik had stopped by the observation relay window near their crew quarters, the only nearby vidscreen to project images of the outside world.

"Lom-vaia planet, please," he had muttered, and a three-dimensional image of the green planet came to life before him. He stared at it for a long time, and then blinked hard. "Good-bye, friend." He said in farewell, then walked away when he could bear the sight no longer.

* * * * *

Zhdanov moved away from the lab table and winked at Knightwood. A smile lit up her dark eyes. She caught herself and cast a glance over her shoulder at Dr. Koslov, who had gone over to the analyzer, but he hadn't been paying any attention to them. At least, he and Cheung pretended not to notice.

Everyone had heard the news by now. Dr. Koslov, Romanik, Manning, and Cheung concentrated on the analyzer and kept their eyes ahead, giving the two a private moment.

Zhdanov had finally proposed the day after the crew returned from the lom-vaia world. He had traveled the length of the ship looking for an engagement ring. Then Zhdanov had found her in the Russian section nearer the Cargo Bay than the bridge crew quarters; he had found her by accident, or so it seemed.

She was supposed to be analyzing and recording the information from lom-vaia with the other scientists, while Zhdanov translated the findings into Russian with help from lieutenant Kaganov and the Russian maintenance technicians who were not currently busy. He had planned to catch her that evening and generate the perfect atmosphere for the question, but in the end he could not hold back and asked her to marry him spontaneously. And the location struck him as appropriate—he had finally asked her in the middle of documenting their research, in front of an audience, declaring a love that both had disavowed for so long.

The date was set a month away to give them both time to adjust to the idea and to prepare for the event itself. But now Knightwood reconsidered. Once she had made up her mind, a month was too long to wait.

She tried to concentrate on the more serious nature of their experiments. The discovery of some mythical "creator" from a place called "Enor" combined with the further vestiges of some galactic Federation had raised the question as to where the origins of these visitors had been, if the two were connected in some way, perhaps one being the remote ancestor of the other, or as per the same old question, two warring factions of one race; for the moment, she had chosen to assume that "Enor" was not merely a mythical place, that its "creator" was not merely a mythical creature who provided an explanation as to how the lom-vaia race had been born.

With no means of verifying their suppositions, the research scientists had been forced to review every small detail from the planets they had thus far visited, including a few vegetation samples from lom-vaia, but they lacked conclusive genetic evidence to form connections.

Knightwood kept her own hypothesis secret, but she was sure the convergence of the humanoid form was no coincidence. The alteration of the lom-vaia by an Enorian "creator" had gotten her mind working. What if the same thing had once happened on Earth? What if humankind on Earth had incorrectly pieced together the independent evolution of its own human race?

* * * * *

All aboard _Enlil_ knew that the Great Leader had been displeased by the failure of the attack at lom-vaia. Not long after the failed attack, the Garen successor Iriken Zirnenka began to believe that it was the fault of the woman the Orian people knew as _Zariqua Enassa_ or _Alessia_. She had to have helped the _Selesta_ to escape, to thwart their trap yet again; it was not the first time she had thwarted the Great Leader's plans.

In the last attack, she had interfered with their fighter's navigational systems and driven their planes haywire. This time, she had decimated their forces, then run away! It was unforgivable, Iriken thought. Someone had to stop her, to force her to surrender herself. It was not merely that Iriken tired of battles and unending pursuit; he knew that if the Great Leader were ever to find and regain his Zariqua Enassa and the _Selesta_ , then the Orian people would finally have their guide to a new home. They could then fulfill the purpose the Orian people all wished to accomplish; they could finally cure the Great Leader of his strange illnesses. Yes, he must be cured for the sake of them all!

It was with this in mind that Iriken Zirnenka proposed the mission to the current Garen, a mission to reclaim the _Zariqua Enassa_. Iriken was careful not to criticize the Great Leader's failure in tactics around lom-vaia; clearly the _Selesta_ had again had forewarning of their presence. At least, the ship had perceived the threat of their great numbers approaching and had taken measure to avert a great battle. Yet one small fighter—would _Selesta_ perceive its presence? Iriken had asked. If one small fighter merely drifted at a constant rate towards them and made no communications? No, the Garen had agreed, surely her defenses would not be raised for a single fighter. Then, when any of the _Selesta's_ thousand air lock doors opened, the small fighter could enter the ship. And the pilot's mission would be to retrieve her, the Great Leader's _Zariqua Enassa_ , and seize control of the _Selesta_.

The Garen had readily approved of the mission. Reports showed that the _Selesta_ periodically reversed its thrusters to stop and emitted Kiel3 fighters that flew around the ship in circles and then returned through the same air lock door—some kind of maneuver training no doubt. The Garen agreed that the Great Leader would be surprised, but pleased.

They had both seen that Iriken would be the one to fulfill the mission, not only for reasons of secrecy, but because of his past experiences. Moments after the Garen had granted him clearance, Iriken picked up signs of activity outside the _Selesta_. He knew then that he had not a moment to lose. The Garen sent two others to follow him at a distance, to bring back visuals of his infiltration.

Yes, Iriken thought, drifting alone silently in space, as the aliens had once invaded _Enlil_ , now he was going to invade them. He would find the _Zariqua Enassa_ and bring her back. _Selesta_ would then at last surrender.

Meanwhile, Erika waited in the lounge section, but Iriken never showed up for their meeting.

* * * * *

The squadrons had just gone out to practice their maneuvers when lieutenant Amina Johnson's voice came over the net.

"All squadrons return to the Great Bay—and hurry."

"What's happening?" lieutenant Nakagawa asked from outside the ship.

"We've got an enemy intruder in the Great Bay! You've got to stop him. He flew in a minute ago, when the air lock opened. I don't think he was anticipating finding the _Stargazer_ in there—but we've got a lot of people on the ground, and no one can get to the planes without risking being seen in the open. Hurry it up—this guy's doing a lot of damage in here!"

A stunned silence reigned on the net.

When the air lock opened to bring in the squadrons, the team had formed up side by side to prevent the alien ship's escape. They could see that he had flown in circles and destroyed a dozen grounded Earth fighters by the time they arrived but hadn't affected the _Discovery's_ own planes, the few that had been left on the Great Bay floor and not stacked up at the side or moved to the smaller fighter docking bays.

"What's he doing?" Lieutenant Andersen asked as the enemy realized he was outnumbered and began weaving through them at an incredible speed.

"He's got to know it's over," Manning agreed. "Just watch out—he's firing." The Earth fighters avoided the rampant shots of their cornered prey, but it was clear they would have to ground him soon before someone was killed. "Did he think there wasn't going to be anyone in here?" Manning asked incredulously. "As if he could just waltz in here and we wouldn't notice—"

"Shall I take him out?" Behrman asked, but then didn't wait for an answer. Sighting the enemy's weak spot, he grazed the enemy plane with a laser beam. The shot failed to ignite the enemy's weak spot, but the impact of the blast brought the alien ship crashing to the floor.

The humans on the ground rushed over to examine the wreck. The ship had been twisted up in the fall and would never fly again, but if the pilot were still alive, he showed no sign of moving.

The Earth squadrons landed a few feet away and emerged, holding their laser rifles ready as they approached the alien ship. A few remained in their planes in case the ship and its pilot were playing dead.

Erin followed Koichiro Nakagawa, Mara Ricna, and Einar Suffield-Andersen at the head of the group—the other pilots acquiesced to the old infiltration team and Blue Stripes' experience in dealing with the aliens until Einar motioned for them to form a ring around the fighter. Erin hesitated to approach, sensing thoughts from the pilot within, strange but familiar words that became meaning before she could block her understanding.

_Why did they not kill me_? the pilot wondered. _If we had surrounded one of their kind, he would be dead by now. No—do not think about that. Just remember your mission, Iriken_ , he added, trying to dismiss all doubts from his mind. _I must find the_ Zariqua Enassa _. I will find her and bring her back to_ Enlil. _But—how strange these creatures are_ —he looked around and spied an Orian uniform. Immediately a wave of confusion and incredulity hit him, numbing his thoughts. He could not contemplate escape or self-destruction—he only waited mutely for them to discover him.

_How had the Great Leader failed to tell them_?!! he wondered, his mind reeling.

There were still _Orians_ on board Selesta!

* * * * *

They waited several minutes, but nothing happened. Finally Erin stepped towards the plane, but Einar extended an arm across her to stop her. His expression said that he was afraid for her to approach it, but she shook her head and moved past him.

The cockpit had come loose in the crash. Erin lifted the overhead canopy; it was surprisingly light. The alien pilot moved in a startled manner away from her and brought an arm to his face to shield himself. Seeing that he was unarmed, the others moved closer to get a better look at him.

They recognized the maroon and grey uniform—several of them were wearing an identical one. Erin heard a few shouts as the team reacted to the surprise, and reached forward to extend the pilot an arm. He regarded her a moment longer, unable to see her face behind the helmet, she unable to see his. But he was a humanoid, like them. He could have been one of them, and in his uniform would have blended easily into the ship if he had not been discovered.

He took her hand instinctively, and she pulled him out of the broken plane, but he appeared unharmed. He stumbled up into the light of the Great Bay, meeting more of what he thought was his own race. The maroon and grey forms surrounded him, joined by those in another familiar dark navy and gold uniform, the ancient garb of their enemy planet Tiasenne. Only the pale blue uniform of the creature that had taken his hand struck no chords in Iriken's memory.

His uniform computer told him that the atmosphere was breathable in all respects, and he paused only a moment to depressurize the system before removing his helmet.

The Earthlings at last stared at the grey-skinned face of their enemy.

* * * * *

The _Discovery's_ internal communications network could not handle the sudden overload of signals. Messages were transmitted to the bridge and to the scientists, back to the Great Bay, over the general intercom making the entire crew aware of recent events, and in between various places on board, from the Stargazer to the bridge—the traffic only lessened after the scientists scheduled an examination in the ship's laboratory and ceased communication to prepare their tests.

The bridge crew that transmitted Colonel Kansier's questions informed the team to remain in the Great Bay until the formal emissary of the ship's three head officers arrived. Captain Kolesar and Major Dimitriev followed the Colonel to the cluster surrounding the alien pilot. They had been prepared for the sight of him, but the pale grey skin and fair hair of their captive was nonetheless shocking to see; not only that, but he looked like a strange kind of human being himself, with a more pointed, bird-like head.

By now Ekasi Iriken Zirnenka had realized his miscalculation. Several scientists, officers, and technicians on board the Stargazer had emerged to catch a glimpse of the alien pilot—but they were not as he imagined. Wearing similar uniforms to the others, the lack of helmets showed that they were not Orians, but representatives of Kiel3's native population.

_But how had they gotten hold of the Orian uniforms_? he wondered. _The Great Leader had said nothing that led him to believe that the_ Selesta _had once been an Orian ship, only that the Zariqua Enassa who lived here had once betrayed him_ ...

The man in front of the new procession greeted Iriken in unintelligible gibberish and allowed two others to speak. Then the officers at his side took his arm and fell in behind the new emissaries, leading him out of the Great Bay and into a long silver-blue lined corridor. The creature that had pulled him out of the ship and its fellow fighter pilots trailed behind him, and still he wondered what their faces would prove—if he had been correct in surrendering to his own kind in order to determine if _Zariqua Enassa_ were aboard, or if he had failed his Great Leader and divested them to the Kiel3 enemy. Perhaps _Zariqua Enassa_ was also their captive, and wanted to be reunited with the Great Leader. Perhaps then, the Great Leader's pain was the result of some tragic misunderstanding!

Iriken glanced down the corridors at the curious aliens who had come to see him, but the _Selesta_ seemed empty to him in comparison to _Enlil,_ even if many of the more timid ones hid from him. Finally they passed through a large room filled with unusual telluric vegetation he recognized from his journey to Kiel3's surface. The smell of it overwhelmed his senses. He had not been in close proximity to the likes of it before—and he found he could have stayed there indefinitely, drinking the richness of aromas outside his experience.

But beyond on the far wall, one of the doors yawned. An assembly of white-clad figures regarded him in astonishment. As he approached, he observed a female among the leaders, watching him with an expression almost of recognition.

* * * * *

Knightwood knew her secret suspicions had waited for irrefutable physical evidence of this magnitude. But somehow she could no longer regard the alien man as the means to her ends once she saw him approach. Like the original inhabitants of _Selesta_ , the ancient visitors to lom-vaia, and the man in the picture she had found what seemed a lifetime ago, the alien intruder had pale grey skin that distinguished him from any human being on Earth. And yet in all other ways, he looked somewhat like them. His fair hair, almost white, convinced her that he was even closer to them than the white-haired creatures they had discovered sleeping in the depths of Discovery.

Cheung and Koslov led him into the laboratory. While a few assistants strapped him to the table, Knightwood took some skin, blood, and other tissue samples. The analyzer began processing the information, but Knightwood and Zhdanov returned to the alien's side. An assistant had stripped him to the waist, exposing the recognizable musculature of his chest and arms. Only a few white body hairs showed on the pale greyish-white skin, but the blood vessels were more pronounced.

Then Colonel Kansier stepped forward and addressed the alien, asking him his name, but the pilot only responded with a confused, then pained expression. His eyes glanced from one to another. Knightwood suddenly felt guilty about what they had done but chastised herself for getting soft. The enemy aliens had killed millions of Earthlings, for no known reason. Nevertheless, the expression on his face disturbed her.

"Elas ahnor ees elan adann larae cheveiek!" He screamed suddenly. It was a startling sound to the Earthlings, like music.

Knightwood stepped back.

Had he misheard the creature? Zhdanov reacted, startled. The other words, like pieces of indecipherable lyrics had bypassed recognition, but the last—it almost sounded like the word for _human_ in his own Earth language.

Kansier motioned for Erin to come forward.

The alien regarded the one that had pulled him from the plane nervously as that figure approached him. Erin stopped a pace away and removed her helmet.

"Can you translate what he said?" Kansier asked, and Erin nodded.

"He told us that we have no cause to treat a fellow being this way."

Zhdanov choked; meanwhile Knightwood watched the alien pilot's reaction. His widening eyes had frozen in shock as Erin removed her helmet. Knightwood swore the expression on his face was one of recognition. As she glanced between the two of them, the color of their faces seemed to subside, and she thought she could descry a vague similarity in their facial features. Then she tried to dismiss the thought.

Knightwood swallowed and looked at Erin again. The first day she had seen her, nearly fifteen years ago, she had felt Erin's penetrating gaze, and had thought the girl could sense her own thoughts, her innermost self. She wondered if that stultifying gaze had fallen on the enemy pilot.

_Who are you, Erin Mathieson?_ she wondered, remembering all of her suspicions about Cameron's involvement with her. As she turned to regard the lieutenant, she found it hard to accept her previous hypotheses. She paid no attention to Erin's hypnotic eyes—those eyes that vacillated like turbulent waters, drowning out the truth—

And the truth suddenly dawned on her.

Knightwood knew at once that Erin was not of the Earth. Erin had deceived them all.

Erin— _was an alien_!

"Did he learn some of our words from one of our radio transmissions? Could he possibly be trying to gain our sympathy?" the Colonel suggested.

"No, sir, he has no knowledge of our languages whatsoever." Erin continued. "And he was, I believe, referring to himself."

"Incredible." The Colonel breathed, expressing the moment.

Knightwood let the knowledge sink in, trying to put aside her conclusions about Erin. If the similarity in one word was indeed a parallel between their races, then—perhaps even the human race was descended from the galactic Empire after all, one that had reached the Earth long ago. And the "creator" of their race, like the one that had appeared on lom-vaia, had altered or guided Earth's evolution. The only thing he could not do was to change the basic Earth bio-chemistry that had kept their skin pigment distinct.

"Sir, how is that possible? Could it just be a coincidence?" Lieutenant Nakagawa spoke for the first time throughout the proceedings.

"I doubt it, but as for an explanation? If there is one—I don't know." Kansier shook his head, wondering what the odds were that he had managed to be involved in such a revelation.

"Ask him about the Empire," Knightwood suggested, and the others responded with enthusiasm.

Knightwood waited for Erin to speak the alien's language, but the lieutenant remained silent. However, the alien's face moved, as if he were indeed listening to her.

_It_ is _telepathy_ , Knightwood smiled inwardly, secretly triumphant. _She's communicating with him telepathically_.

"He doesn't know anything about an Empire," Erin responded a moment later, dashing Knightwood's hopes. "His name is Iriken Zirnenka. His people are from a planet called Orian."

"How do you know?" Kansier demanded.

"He told me, sir," Erin responded. "Telepathically."

"What about the Federation?" Knightwood prompted and waited a moment as Erin turned to the alien.

"Inani—lare-so," the pilot had fixed his gaze on Erin. He was regarding her as though he had just made an astonishing revelation. He had decided something in the past few seconds; it appeared as though he had figured out the answer to a mystery of his own. The exultation in his voice was clear, even though with words he had denied his understanding of their line of questioning. Thus the interchange made no sense at all, at least to the Earth observers.

"He doesn't know." Erin said.

"Then why is he looking at you like that?" Knightwood wondered. The others had not noticed it, she realized, as they turned to regard her skeptically. Knightwood didn't care. She was certain that the alien had _recognized_ Erin.

"Well?" Kansier asked calmly, not convinced that his trusted pilot was hiding anything important, but seeing no reason that Erin might evade Knightwood's question, he allowed it to stand.

Nevertheless, Erin hesitated.

As if sensing the others' confusion, the pilot himself interrupted, trying to clarify the matter for them. "Zariqua na-salen Enassa. E-ya sorvei," his voice sang out.

Knightwood remembered how Erin Mathieson had spoken her first English words, in a similar singing voice. Why couldn't the others hear it? Why couldn't they see the truth? And for that matter, why had Knightwood herself been blinded for so long? Yet if Erin could read minds, could she also imprint suggestions into the human brain? A suggestion perhaps to overlook what now seemed to her so overwhelmingly apparent?

Knightwood was now sure—Erin was also an alien!

Meanwhile, Kansier narrowed his eyes on Erin, urging her to explain.

"He thinks I am someone called _Zariqua Enassa_ ," Erin said, her face suddenly distraught. Knightwood sensed Erin's anguish as she spoke; despite her own questions, Knightwood sensed that Erin was telling the truth. Yes, Knightwood thought, watching her. Erin was genuinely terrified. Faced with some revelation the alien pilot forced upon her—she was terrified, though not of him, but of herself.

"He says—'disguised Zariqua Enassa'. I don't know what that is. I honestly don't—" Erin protested. "And he won't tell me who that is—he doesn't really know. His leader is looking for something called _Zariqua Enassa_ —someone whom the Great Leader knew—but, that isn't me. Knightwood, you know that couldn't possibly be me—" She turned to Knightwood as if entreating her support.

Knightwood subsided to that expression and relented in her harsh suppositions. If Erin believed she was not this _Zariqua Enassa_ —then she wasn't, Knightwood decided. And if she craved proof, Knightwood's conscious mind reminded her that Erin had been a child when they found her, too young for this creature, this Great Leader, to have known her.

The alien must have mistaken her for someone else because she could communicate with him, and she was wearing an alien uniform. Yes, that was it. Just as the Elphorans had thought Erin was some kind of translator.

Knightwood reached out and held Erin's hand; there was a disquieting look of terror in the young woman's eyes. The others watched her mutely, yet Scott's eyes flashed at the enemy alien. He felt sure that the creature had attacked Erin in some way and suppressed nagging doubts that what the alien had said could be true. She was not this creature he was looking for—how could an Earthling be chosen to succeed whatever bizarre role this Zariqua creature fulfilled for the Charon aliens or their _Discovery_ cousins? Erin was one of them, no matter what _Discovery_ had done to her—hell, even if it had somehow chosen her as a vessel of its being, he didn't care.

* * * * *

Iriken was beside himself. He had found her! She was what the Great Leader had searched for across eons, throughout hundreds of generations! From the earliest memories of his inculcation, he remembered that face. At first he had been fooled by the strange pigmentation, but the telepathic force she had used to speak with him exposed her secret. Only the Great Leader rivaled her ability to see his thoughts, transmit questions, and draw out the answers, even against his will. The Great Leader had impressed the minds of his elite with her image by thought communication; remembering erased all doubt.

The memories Sargon had projected returned in brief flashes in Iriken's mind as he watched the beautiful young woman bury her face in her hands. Somewhere from the depths of his being, suppressed by the years in which he had been inculcated into the elite hierarchy, an emotion surfaced. He had once felt the Great Leader's deep love for this woman, and remembering it, he found himself infected by the same feeling. For a moment he contemplated the possibility of remaining near her. But it was not his place to come between _Zariqua Enassa_ and the Great Leader. He knew that she had caused the Great Leader much pain, but she appeared so young and innocent that he wanted to doubt her culpability.

The Great Leader of their race was the same, seemingly, but in truth many thousands of years old.

* * * * *

_Could Erin be one of them?_ Colonel Kansier had also begun to wonder. No human being possessed the abilities that she had. _Could she be one of the strange people from the coffins? Or related to them somehow?_ Erin had been found near the _Discovery_ as a child. Still, she looked human. So if she was not one of its passengers—then perhaps one of them had affected her, changed her.

Oh, Good Lord! He thought. Why am I jumping to conclusions? He sighed, finding the whole situation too much to contemplate and decided to leave the most difficult sorting out for later.

Suddenly their prisoner began to speak in that marvelous musical voice, but Kansier could no longer distinguish the words. He began to comprehend that the creature was producing several sounds at once, like three humans speaking a sentence at the same time.

In his own excitement, Iriken had begun to ramble.

"I have nothing to do with your war," Erin responded after a moment, arguing with whatever it was that he had said. "I didn't cause anything. We on Earth did nothing to you—it was you who started the conflict." She said, stopping his words.

"Analysis complete, Captain," Zhdanov interrupted. "Our friend isn't human as we know it," he said slowly, intrigued, "but—certain enzyme and gene sequences say we are descended from the same line of evolution. The lack of others show that we cannot possibly be related." He announced, utterly at a loss. "Science fails to explain this one. Any suggestions?" he asked, throwing up his hands.

* * * * *

All that night, or during the third and fourth shifts, the alien prisoner remained confined to the laboratory, subject to a thousand tests the scientists performed on him. Early the next day, Colonel Kansier, his Co-Captain Dimitriev, and Captain Kolesar returned to see how the alien prisoner had fared, bringing Erin as their translator. The Colonel was particularly interested in finding out why the aliens had come to Earth and attacked it, what they wanted, and why they continued to pursue the _Discovery_.

However, the alien appeared exhausted, having been kept awake throughout the night. Erin translated the answers at the Colonel's request.

"He says the Great Leader searches for _Zariqua Enassa_. She is aboard this ship, the _Selesta_." Erin said evenly. "He says we must not protect her any longer. We must relinquish her to the _Enlil_."

"En-lill?" Kolesar asked.

"It is the name of their ship." Erin explained.

"At last we know who they are," Kansier declared, with overt satisfaction. "From a planet called Orian, aboard a ship called _En-lil_. And whoever owned the _Selesta_ , we know they were at war with them."

"Yes, sir."

"You were right, Erin." Kansier shook his head. "The two people were not on the same side, even though we might think they look alike. Does he know where the people of _Selesta_ were from, where they went, if they were of the same race?"

"No—he doesn't know anything about the ship other than the name of the woman on board— _Zariqua Enassa_. And she isn't from his world."

"This Zarr-ee-kah Ee-nass-uh he mentioned—do you suppose there is someone on board guiding us?" Dimitriev interjected. "Perhaps living in one of the sealed areas?"

Kansier turned to his subordinate. "You may be right. Lieutenant," he continued, turning to Erin, "tell the prisoner that we don't know the person he is referring to and that even if we did we still might consider negotiating some conversations to sort things out. Remind him that we have done nothing to instigate their hostilities towards us."

Erin nodded. A minute later, the creature made more musical sounds, which Erin immediately translated. "He says the base at Pluto fired first. The Great Leader knew then that we would not let _Zariqua Enassa_ go."

"Good God!" Kansier exclaimed. "I just can't believe that such a simple mistake caused all of this." He protested, but his own attitude made it clear that he did believe it.

"No, Colonel, it didn't." Erin disagreed. "They're a hostile race—perhaps not biologically, but they've been socialized to think and act in violent ways. In my opinion, they could not do the things they've done to a weaker civilization than theirs, one that didn't understand what they wanted, without being ruthless. It sounds to me like they'll find any excuse to justify what they've done."

Dimitriev clenched his jaw, remembering his family, the attack on Central City. As he watched the helpless prisoner and listened to his denial of the truth, his own anger swelled to the point that if left alone with him, he knew he would have killed the alien prisoner in a heartbeat.

Watching Scott, Erin perceived his hostility. She wasn't sure how long it would be before some revenge-seeking maverick decided to murder the captive. She looked back at the prisoner. He had really done nothing on his own. He was not responsible for what he had done. He was young and inexperienced, like the _Discovery_ crew—couldn't they see that? Despite the accusations he had made against her, she knew she had to find a way to let him go, for his own safety. From what she had learned about their numbers, one Orian pilot more or less would make little difference. And certainly he hadn't seen anything on board to be of use to the Orians.

"I think the prisoner must be tired, sir." Erin ventured disinterestedly, masking her new intent. "Perhaps if we give him time to rest, he might be more willing to discuss our enemies' motivations."

"Yes, I think you're right," Kansier agreed. "Romanik, have someone keep an eye on him—and post guards at the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. We'll come by later this afternoon and see if he's willing to talk to us."

* * * * *

Erin slipped away from her room quietly. Kansier had dismissed her unit shortly before 0600, and then she had visited their alien prisoner with him at 0615. Afterwards, Kansier suggested she get some sleep in preparation for the interrogation that afternoon, but Erin had other plans, and she no longer required sleep.

She headed towards the botanical gardens and passed the guards. She found an alcove behind the greenery and hid herself, waiting until the guards changed duty and for Knightwood and Zhdanov to leave the laboratory.

Two hours later, the pair emerged.

"...and so I said I had nothing to do with it." Knightwood was saying as they headed to the door.

"So who was at fault?" Zhdanov cocked an eyebrow.

"Not sure." Zhdanov looked at her. The guards watched them leave but said nothing.

Erin tiptoed to the laboratory where one of Knightwood's assistants, Dr. Casey, monitored the analyzers. The prisoner was asleep on the examination table. As Erin approached, he stirred a little.

Erin returned almost to the entrance of the Botanical Gardens and silently crept behind the guards, hiding in the doorway to a closer, smaller laboratory, unused at the moment except for storage.

_Pain_ , she thought, and projected semi-sentient waves towards the two officers posted at the door.

One of them grabbed his head and squeezed both palms into his temples, losing his balance and dropping to his knees. The other officer rushed to him, alarmed, as he writhed around.

"Help!" she shouted, and Knightwood's assistant appeared in the gardens to see what had happened.

Almost immediately, the other officer was struck by the same affliction, and collapsed to the floor, her body convulsing, jerking wildly.

"Message to Dr. Koslov: we have a disturbance in the Botanical Gardens," Casey shouted hurriedly into her wrist communicator, then looked at the thing with a puzzled expression and shook her wrist.

"Why isn't this damned thing working—" she stopped and shouted to the intercom. "Open signal: transmit bridge. Colonel Kansier, we have a problem in the Botanical Gardens. Send a medical unit on the double." She waited for a response, but none came. After a minute, she could no longer bear to watch the suffering of the officers. "Hang on," she said and kneeled beside them. "Nothing's working—we may have lost power again. I'll go get someone to help you." Then she rushed to her feet and headed down the corridor, trying to keep calm.

Iriken had heard the commotion and awoke. His restrainments had been broken by someone. He moved to the door and watched the assistant, listening to the strange unintelligible cries. Then miraculously, she left.

He felt pity for the creatures on the floor, but he had to concentrate on his own escape. He went back for his helmet and pulled on the rest of his uniform. Picking his way over the two moving bodies, he hurried out the corridor and retraced the path he had memorized when the creatures had led him here.

He passed a couple of officers in the corridor near the Great Bay, but none of them noticed him. His face had been hidden by the helmet.

Iriken's own plane would not make it out, he knew. He had no choice but to try to fly one of the Kiel3 planes. Several hundred of them filled the floor space of the Great Bay—he hid among them while officers moved in great haste from the _Stargazer_ across the Bay to the corridor he had just left.

Seeing his opportunity, he managed to open the canopy of one of the ships unnoticed. He waited inside several minutes, trying to figure out the controls of the strange planes. Suddenly it occurred to him through some divine miracle that—he knew how to fly the plane! As though he had done so before. A telepathic gift perhaps from that strange _Zariqua Enassa_ , he thought. A large centrally located throttle appeared the main mechanism of flight control. There were no thought sensors, no reflex initializers. But for some reason the cockpit seemed familiar enough.

He followed the strange sensation guiding him and activated the engines, taxiing away from the other planes and down a clear path to the air lock. He had no idea how to open the door, and searched around the communications console for some kind of trigger to activate the air lock.

A loud noise interrupted his search. Looking up, he saw the great doors opening and headed into the air lock chamber. The inner doors closed behind him, leaving him in the darkness. Then starlight showed before him in a small arc, widening into a field of bright pinpoints of lights. The outer doors opened with a faint sound that deadened into space.

Iriken took the plane out and headed towards home.

### Chapter Twelve

She waited in the cockpit, a feral smile lighting her face. She had lost count of the hours but didn't care. Her mind replayed the glorious sensation she had felt when she left the confines of the ship and found her prey: two returning fighters that had taken matters into their own hands.

She danced among them, hoping they would play a little while at least, but they were not able to match her speed and agility. One after another they exploded into the silence of space radiating particles that rejoined the cosmos as interstellar dust. She sighed, disgruntled because they had been too easy.

Then her last target finally approached.

She waited for the doors to open. She would not fail her order to mete out the death punishment, but she hoped the encounter might last a little longer than the previous one.

Soon the plane emerged, a pitifully slow and fragile Kiel3 fighter. She targeted it in her sights, but it made no sign of trying to avoid her.

The poor thing didn't realize it would soon cease to exist.

Then a strong grip came over her mind. If she made a move to oppose it, there would be pain—blinding pain—she remembered _that_ all too well. It would be better to obey, yet she despised the control this other mind had over her.

_Hold_ , the voice told her, and constrained her hands, holding them immobile, not even granting her the option of refusal.

Iriken saw the fighter and wondered that the Orian fighter had not come out to protect him as he made his escape from Selesta. It had sat waiting for him and rushed towards him, then suddenly stopped. It followed him into _Enlil's_ fighter bay and landed just behind him.

Iriken stepped from the Kiel3 plane the Orian scientists would no doubt wish to analyze for weaknesses. He turned to the other fighter, and waited for the pilot to accompany him.

The figure moved stiffly down the decline strip and dropped to the floor. Its hands reached up mechanically to remove the helmet.

"Erika!" Iriken shouted and headed towards her, his face a banner of confusion. "Why have you been placed among the pilot divisions?" he asked in concern, drawing towards her. As he spoke, he began to realize that the experience on _Selesta_ had heightened his emotions; it was a sudden shock to know that he was not the same as when he had left, that he would never again be the same. Had the _Zariqua Enassa_ done this? he wondered, but he did not know. It did not matter.

He was delighted to see Erika.

However, his pleasure quickly changed to horror.

Erika's glazed eyes had begun to regard him coldly, with inhuman animosity.

"What has happened, Erika?" Iriken ventured, alarmed, stepping back and away from that cold stare, hoping his words would restore some trace of the Erika he knew. "Why do you look at me in such a way?" he asked in confusion, then whipped around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Iriken stood face to face with the Great Leader.

"Enough now my dear, you may go," Sargon said, waving an arm. He was a tall, athletic, young-looking man—almost angelic-looking, with a head of blond hair and blue eyes that had once been pensive and sad, but now held the look of instability in them. Iriken suppressed a shudder, for the first time aware that he had recognized the instability there, where before he had only seen determination and wisdom.

"Why did you stop me before I could complete my task?" Erika asked, stuttering slightly. Iriken looked towards her, but she ignored him as though she did not know him. "It was your order," she insisted, her face twisted with a paroxysm of bloodthirsty desire.

"There are certain things which I must discuss with my young friend." The Great Leader said evenly. "You will have to return now. Do not disobey." He warned, his voice peremptory. Then Erika bowed, leaving them alone without another glance at Iriken.

"What happened to her?" Iriken demanded, glaring with open accusation at his Great Leader. Sargon considered him a moment thoughtfully but then erupted into sardonic laughter.

"I redirected her thoughts and feelings more appropriately shall we say." Sargon explained as though he had been right to do so. "I have eradicated her love for you, or couldn't you see that?"

"You _what_?" Iriken rasped, horrified.

"I wanted to see if it could be done—deliberately. Yes, attribute the blame to me. I welcome it. But you see I required an experiment. Is it indeed possible to replace hate with love, and destroy the source of that love on purpose? Well, I got my answer. Yes, what better way to find out than to send your gentle sister to punish the three pilots who went to _Selesta_ without my permission? She would have killed you, as she killed them."

"And the Garen?" Iriken asked. "He authorized the mission."

"Yes—he is no longer my advisor." Sargon admitted, as though grudging an unfortunate necessity. "But I did not kill him—a momentary weakness on my part." Sargon paused; it was a curious pause, Iriken thought. For just a moment, the Great Leader seemed to temporarily forget his own presence there as his mind worked over something; he seemed to be staring beyond Iriken at something remote.

"There, I see him. Yes well, he is quite safe—retired among the civilian population." Sargon paused, then glowered at Iriken. "But you—you I would have killed for violating my trust, for revealing my plans to our enemy," he said coldly, his terrible eyes full of burning anger. "How could you think _you_ could bring back my—the _Zariqua Enassa_ , who has hidden herself from me for so long?

Iriken no longer knew why he had even thought it possible. Or why he had felt such a need to try. Despite the melancholy that permeated the ship, it meant nothing to the feelings that welled in him as he thought of what the Great Leader had done to Erika.

"However, I am willing to forgive you for the news you bring to me of her. Come, let us return to my council room." Sargon gestured. Iriken followed more out of curiosity than obligation.

"How very strange," Sargon continued as they walked, "the anticipation I feel is almost more pleasurable than it will be to actually observe what she has become in your thoughts, once I have your mind focused on that meeting. But Iriken, why do you regard me that way?"

"I see now." Iriken said, nodding; his expression bore a mark of enlightenment, his face that of one who had at last stumbled upon truth without ever having sought it. "I was wrong about you."

"You were?" Sargon asked tonelessly.

"I thought you might forgive the _Zariqua Enassa_ for her wrongs, when each time you recalled the fighters from Kiel3 to wait for her return, hoping that she would give herself up of her own volition." Iriken explained. "But now I understand. You don't love her—you _despise_ her! _Zariqua Enassa_ was _right_ to be afraid—for you will stop at nothing to attain your revenge. You enjoy terrorizing her and the Kiel3 humanoids, who did nothing to incur your hatred. That hate, not your immortality, makes you—a completely inhuman beast." Iriken stepped back, remembering what Sargon had done to Erika, no longer able to regard the Great Leader as anything but an unfortunate creature drowning in its own pain, but who knew the cause? What exactly had the _Zariqua Enassa_ done to him? And how was he immortal.... Was that the cause of his suffering in some way?

"Iriken," Sargon laughed, no doubt reading Iriken's thoughts. " _You_ are the one who is misguided. Hate and love—there cannot be one without the other. Look how easy it was to turn Erika's love for you around. And why? Because love is fragile, Iriken. Who can hold onto it when a single disappointment can corrupt it? I tell you no one hoped more than I that there could be love without resentment, without disappointment, when I believed it could become the simple purpose of my life. Believe me that I spared Erika that discovery by shattering her ideals for her. I would advise you not to harbor them yourself, boy—but then I don't think you are entirely governed by them. So much the better. Hmm," he said. "I do not hate the Kiel3 humans, but they are harboring what I want and require. They must as such be punished until they relinquish the _Zariqua Enassa_ to me, and the ship _Selesta._ Yet you really think that _I_ am an inhuman beast?" he laughed again, but nervously, as though the insult displeased him in some way. "Of course, because that is what you see. Yes—" he broke off a moment.

"How very young, and very wrong, you are."

* * * * *

Iriken was released after the interrogation. Whatever the Great Leader's plans for him were, at the moment it seemed he would not destroy the object that had contacted his obsession. Iriken obscured the memories in his mind as best he could, leaving sufficient doubt in Sargon's mind as to whether or not his beloved Alessia, she who was called the _Zariqua Enassa_ , had altered Iriken's memories of her to thwart him. Sargon made no attempt to hide his irritation that Iriken had attempted to resist the interrogation. However, the Great Leader felt certain that the use of mindforce throughout Iriken's memories carried Alessia's signature.

Now that she knew how his people lived here, how they suffered—how he suffered without her—would she return to save them? Sargon wondered in spite of his better judgment, in spite of his bitterness. Could she rescue them, could he return to his own self once his faith had been restored—or was it too damn late?

Half-convincing himself that she would, he waited, no longer interested in what happened around him, in Iriken or anyone else.

Meanwhile, Iriken left the Command Center unnoticed, determined to find Erika and release her. Yet notwithstanding considerable efforts over the next several days, he failed to locate her whereabouts. He began to return to the Command Center each day, hoping to overhear news of her.

Nearly a tenday later, Sargon heard Iriken listening outside the Great Leader's chamber and laughed to himself.

"So, you want to know the plans I had for your beloved sister?" Sargon bellowed, drawing Iriken from his hiding outside the door.

"Yes," Iriken answered boldly, without using a title to address his Great Leader.

Yet Sargon seemed not at all displeased; he seemed instead perfectly willing to answer Iriken's questions. "Well, Iriken," He continued as the would-be Garen-successor approached, "now that the mind control over her has weakened, she begins to regret her actions. So, of course I had thought it best to cease her suffering."

Iriken listened expectantly, not daring to believe any of his words yet. If Sargon had already killed Erika, he would have told Iriken so; he had no reason to hide or defend any of his actions.

"But," Sargon went on when Iriken said nothing, "as you have been the instrument of achieving part of the object of my desire—I will give you one reward." He paused, watching wrinkles form between Iriken's eyes as he waited for the conditions. "If you can find her before she kills herself, then you can take her with you." Sargon gestured with one arm. "You may both escape, to wherever you wish to go, as long as it is to an area beyond my concern. Take her to a civilian sector—I have no interest in them. I will not kill you if you run." Sargon added, sensing Iriken's skepticism. "But never return here again, or you will both die."

Iriken nodded soberly, his eyes never leaving the Great Leader, as though to the last, he still suspected some kind of treachery. Then, without a word, Iriken turned and strode briskly towards the door. Despite the threat he had made, Sargon watched sadly as the young man left the chamber, his pure, hopeful mind bent on freeing his beloved.

* * * * *

Two thirty-hour Orian days passed before Iriken found Erika. One afternoon, he discovered that she had been taken to a storage facility that was surrounded by guards. Iriken enquired about their duty—seeing no reason to withhold the information, they told him that an elite traitor had been confined at the Great Leader's request, and that they had been instructed to let no one inside.

Iriken spent days trying to determine how to set Erika free. Yet as his desperation grew, he found he could not think clearly. Then finally, seizing upon a momentary insight, he devised a plan. It occurred to Iriken that in his preoccupation, Sargon might not have informed his elite of the change in Iriken's status; one morning, Iriken decided to take the chance that he hadn't. Iriken strode forward towards the ad-hoc holding facility in a sudden burst of courage; the dozen guards outside her cell looked up and parted upon sighting the Garen designate, taking no notice of his strained aspect and manner.

Iriken felt relieved beyond measure, yet he knew he had to keep it to himself as he neared them or else be discovered.

"I wish to speak with the prisoner—privately," Iriken ordered, hoping he still commanded their obedience.

"Yes, sir." One of the guards signaled to the others, and they moved ahead and out of earshot. Iriken hurried into the darkened cell, looking for any sign of movement.

"Erika!" he whispered, but urgently.

In the holding cell, Erika lifted her head weakly, recognizing Iriken's voice. Suddenly he turned around a pile of provisions near the entrance; at once she saw the change in him. Was this her dispassionate, disciplined brother? She knew it was, and yet his expression seemed so different that she almost would have not known him. How long had it been since they had spoken? she wondered, suddenly, inexplicably, distressed. She had no memories of the days just after he had disappeared; there was only a long, recurring nightmare she feared to remember, and a vague, disquieting sense that she had done something she was ashamed of. What, though, was this change in him?

As she looked at him, her expression lost and forlorn, Iriken smiled gently, and with a pang of joy, she saw that he had at last claimed himself from the Great Leader's poison. Her heart leaped, but her happiness was soon quenched by his words.

"I've come to save you, sister." Iriken explained, hurrying towards her. "I'm going to ask the guards to transfer you when the ten-hour guard changes—in the name of the Great Leader. I'll be waiting outside the containment cell near the entrance to the civilian sector. There will only be two guards—if they do not relinquish you to me without confirmation, I'll stun them. Do you understand everything?" He asked, and she nodded slightly, but her eyes were still haunted. Iriken smiled to reassure her, then knelt beside her and turned her face. "Don't despair, Erika. All will turn out well, and you and I will be free."

He stood; a moment later, Erika nodded soberly, but inside her heart was breaking. Why should she love him so? she asked herself. Iriken was her brother by ectogenesis, grown in the same batch of elite children but from different genetic contributors. Yet despite her intentions, her love for him had grown beyond all the affections for her other siblings of system 165a.

It mattered little, since she could not see that kind of love in Iriken's face.

* * * * *

_No! No! No!_ Sargon thought. Not again! He could not bear it again. _Selesta_ had gotten away from him, and she—it had again escaped through the wormhole. If he had received the news with momentary incredulity, his feelings quickly burned away into fury. He had been fooled once again, fooled into believing that destiny intended redemption and reconciliation for him.

_Wake and obey,_ the voice said. Erika heard it in her dreams and stirred to life, opening her eyes, though now she did not see the holding cell or recognize anything within it. A moment later, she had pulled the door open with new brute strength, not even blinking as the guards rushed towards her.

Erika thought only of Iriken—and that she must _kill_ him. Having accomplished what the Great Leader could not do himself, she would then, of course, take her own life.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, Iriken waited nervously by the elite containment center near the civilian sector. Two more hours would pass before Erika arrived, but he found himself drawn to the spot by anticipation, as though the time would pass more quickly there.

Suddenly he heard a noise and moved from the side corridor into the main thoroughfare of the Command wing in the upper decks of _Enlil._

Erika stood in the dim light, her head bowed. Iriken halted, surprised that she had arrived so soon, but his excitement dissipated as he became aware of the weapon at her side.

"So," she whispered. "You are here." She laughed maliciously, raising the weapon. As she did so, her head lifted, and she looked into his eyes, expecting to see fear, hoping to see fear.

Iriken faced her, unmoving, too stunned to move at first, and then because he did not want to rush her. Erika regarded him curiously, and for a second her conviction faltered. Then she gave a triumphant little laugh; still she did not fire her weapon.

"I—shall enjoy watching you die," she informed him as Iriken stood his ground.

"Do what you must, Erika," he said quietly.

"What?" She breathed, seeing that he waited bravely for his death. Against her will, her arm began to shake, and she clutched her weapon tighter, bringing her other hand up to assist her.

"Iriken..." she cried through clenched teeth, and he saw that she had suddenly returned to herself, except that now she was fully aware of what she had become, her recent memories returned to her. The force holding her then suddenly squeezed her fingers, but Erika pulled them away from the trigger, enough to stop herself from firing her weapon at Iriken. However, the effort had its price; Erika screamed in pain as the grip on her mind exerted pressure, crushing her under a wave of blinding pain. She brought her hands to her head, ineffective hands that worked over her hair trying to avert the horrible pain; abruptly she crumpled to the ground.

"No," she pushed Iriken away as he rushed to her side. "Leave me! You must leave me!" She urged. "Please, Iriken, you must go to the civilian sectors. You can hide there. He will not care about you any more, once you are there." For a moment, as she took a deep breath, her pain resided, and he saw the tears that had sprung to her bright eyes.

"I won't go without you!" Iriken said and kept stubbornly at her side, then knelt down to pull her to her feet. She shrugged him off as best she could, surprising him with the ferocity of her hands, scraping him with the hard edge of her laser gun.

"Go!" she screamed, but he ignored her.

"And leave you here to suffer?" He asked, shaking his head, now succeeding in holding down her arms as her energy waned.

"Please, you cannot come near me!" She cried. Suddenly Erika stood and staggered back, wrenching herself from Iriken's grip. With ferocious eyes, she glared at him, with all the fury of one who has recognized futility. "Go, before I kill us both!"

"Erika..." Iriken swallowed.

"Please—say nothing," she whispered, shaking her head. "I know how you feel. And I haven't forgotten that it was you who arranged for my escape. We did not know how futile that was. I had hoped—but it doesn't matter. Please, just go. Let me die believing that if any feelings, if any loyalties can still exist among our people—that you loved _me,_ Iriken, with all your heart."

"But—what will you do?" Iriken asked, hesitating.

"They will find me here of course. Now—get out of here!"

He looked at her, feeling desperation rising in his throat. Her eyes were bright, but dry. Her body shook only a little, a tiny bead of sweat on her forehead the only sign of the magnitude of pain she fought to control with her remaining energy, a brave Orian elite to the last, despite her exile. For the first time, he began to realize what had enabled her to thwart the Great Leader.

Erika loved him! He could hardly believe that he hadn't seen that before. Yes, she loved him? Yet hadn't she always? he thought, realizing too late that she had. Dear Erika, he thought, why had it come to this? He had never known what love was. He did care for her. Seeing her like this, he felt a wave of emotion for her that was as near love as he could feel.

Erika looked at him weakly. Iriken remained facing her only a few feet apart. But to her it was a gulf, one step short of his embrace—and the end of her own control energies that kept her from putting a laser through his heart.

"Go," she begged, lowering her head so he could not see her face.

He could not ignore her again. "For now. But I'll return for you, Erika," he vowed, swallowing, knowing that without the Great Leader's medical officers, she wouldn't stand a chance of surviving. He turned, feeling the betrayal of doing so, fighting himself with every step, but at last began to run away; yet he only made it a few steps when he heard the loud blast of a laser gun behind him.

His heart thudded in his chest as he turned around, his face ashen, and ran back to the still form lying on the floor in a pool of violet blood.

Erika had shot herself through the chest. She had fallen face up onto the floor; he knelt beside her and turned her gently, then caught her head and torso in his arms. She was still alive, but barely; tears flowed from her eyes, though she could not move on her own.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I couldn't hold out any more. Luck go with you—dear Iriken. You must go to our people—you—must... find.. be safe..."

"No, Erika!" Iriken urged, shaking her. "Don't leave me here! We have always had each other," he cried in a voice broken by tears, holding her to him, but she had not heard him. Her body stilled in his arms. Iriken felt a horrid wave of despair rising in him and laid her gently on the ground, casting his eyes upward and away from her face. He wished he could deny the reality of her death. Yet he felt so dreadfully alone.

"Good-bye, Erika," he whispered softly and leaned over her face, kissing her, suppressing the sobs welling in his young heart. At that moment, the life functions alarm began blaring news of Erika's death; Iriken rose to his feet, still lingering over her. Already the guards' footsteps could be heard echoing down the corridor.

_Go!_ Recalling her voice again in his mind, telling him to seek the civilian sectors, he tore himself away. Yet what was freedom without her? he wondered, even as fulfilled her last wish.

Iriken fled, never suspecting that he was not alone.

The man watching him approached the body with unnatural agility, then bent over it and kissed the lifeless cheek of the dead girl.

As Sargon looked away, he was amazed to discover a wet river of tears coursing down his face.

He decided to let Iriken go. There was no punishment greater than to lose the woman that you loved.

* * * * *

When the _Discovery_ emerged from the wormhole, Zhdanov and the others realized that the prisoner had gotten away. Some of the crew had begun to refer to the ship by its original name, _Selesta_ , but Zhdanov found it difficult to abandon the name it had been given on Earth, as did many of the others. The ship was still _Discovery._

In time, however, as he thought more about the aliens they had discovered preserved in the ship, Zhdanov wondered if they would have shared his sentiment in their own way. How would they feel if they knew about the _Discovery's_ new crew? Indeed, how long they had lived aboard the ship? He couldn't help but wonder about what their lives had been like, so long ago. Who they were, where they had come from, and why they had come to the Earth at all. With this in mind days after the jump, Zhdanov asked Kansier if the ship had altered its course recently and if he could have the figures sent to him detailing how many jumps _Selesta_ had made since they left Earth. He thought better of correcting himself, hoping it pleased the ship's original owners to hear him. It seemed he had finally accepted the Earthlings' place in the events; he had finally accepted that the passengers from Earth would be changed more by the experiences the ship offered them than they would be able to influence _Selesta_ or even their own future.

However, some things were more under control than others. Despite the disappointment of losing the alien pilot, Knightwood and Zhdanov's wedding proceeded according to plan, postponed by only a few days.

* * * * *

Initial suspicions that Erin Mathieson's mind had been influenced by the original alien inhabitants of _Selesta_ died down when she made an appearance at the wedding of Zhdanov and Knightwood as Knightwood's bridesmaid. Some believed she was merely a human psychic, a new kind of human telepath whose powers proved that there was no limit to the development of the human mind; those who had even begun to suspect that she might be an alien herself dismissed the idea as soon as they saw her. No matter what had happened, they could not doubt their own eyes, and their eyes told them that Erin was human.

Two weeks later, after the long hiatus of a happy honeymoon, some of Knightwood's unresolved questions resurfaced to trouble her. How did the _Selesta_ guide them, understand them? she wondered again. Why after all this time could they not even access its main systems? Who were its original owners if not the dead crew below, and what had their purpose been?

As if determined to answer these questions, Knightwood sought Erin out and found her sitting in the newest Botanical Gardens one afternoon.

"Oh, hello, Knightwood," Erin said as Knightwood hesitated behind her. Momentarily surprised that Erin had perceived her, Knightwood sat next to her without a word.

"So, what are you thinking about?"

"The alien pilot—how he thought he recognized me." Erin shrugged ahead, her gaze falling on one of the flowering fruit trees. "Pretty, isn't it here?"

"Something wrong?" Knightwood asked.

"Oh, Knightwood—I want to tell you what it is, honestly I do, but I just can't. I haven't been completely honest with anyone, not even with myself."

"And you're scared, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," Erin admitted.

"Perhaps I can help."

"I don't know if you can understand—if anyone can." Erin shook her head. "And I'm not sure I want to know the truth myself."

"Whatever it is, you don't need to worry." Knightwood reassured her. "I promise I'll never judge you. We all have our secrets—"

"But Knightwood, this is more than that—"

"Listen," Knightwood advised strongly. "Ever since we left the Earth, we've all had to adjust to some pretty difficult facts and situations. I don't think any of us are the same people we were when we left. I'm not even sure it matters anymore what we prove empirically or otherwise—we may never get a chance to bring any of the evidence back to Earth. So—does it really matter? We have to lead our lives as best we can, whatever the circumstances. You'll have to come to terms with whatever it is that's bothering you sooner or later—there's nowhere to run, as big as this ship is. But it might be what you need—to let go of it all and move forward."

"Maybe," Erin said reluctantly.

"Just tell me, what's bothering you right now—you've been skulking around here for days."

"Knightwood," Erin swallowed and turned to face her. "I let him go. The alien pilot— _I_ let him go."

"You did _what_?" Knightwood cried, remembering the seizures that had affected the guards outside the gardens. By the time the assistant had returned, they had returned to normal and remembered nothing of the experience. Minutes later, the medical team had found that the alien had escaped. With no other explanation, everyone had assumed he had been responsible for the guards' strange affliction. "How could you have had anything to do with that?" Her eyes narrowed.

"That's what I can't tell anyone," Erin sighed. "But I couldn't face what his mind was telling me—that I could be this person responsible for the entire war on Earth."

"You aren't responsible." Knightwood protested. "No matter how you might have been involved, no child can claim such a responsibility, and that's what you were when the war began." Knightwood insisted.

"I see you know the truth, Knightwood," Erin said, perceiving Knightwood's suspicions. "Somehow—I also know the truth about myself deep down. Yet you want to know who owned this ship—but that is exactly what I've been trying to avoid finding out, because I don't _want_ to know who I am. I don't want to change. I want things to stay as they have always been since as long as I can remember. Why can't we just keep things as they are?"

"You know how foolish that is," Knightwood said gently. "Time doesn't stop for us when we're happy, just as it doesn't hurry when we suffer."

"But what would my Earth family have thought of me if they knew who I really was?" Erin asked, turning pale.

She knows I know she's an alien...

"I don't know," Knightwood admitted. "But I imagine they wouldn't have thought any less of you for it. They raised you, Erin. How could they not love you for who you are?"

"Thank you, Knightwood," Erin said, a faint smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Do you ever wonder who your first mother was? Yet I suppose you didn't know her," Knightwood said, then scrutinized her face.

"No," Erin agreed. "And if I did know at some point, I've forgotten. Something has blocked my early memories—I might even be doing it myself, I suppose. The thing is that I know they're there, but I can't recall them. And I'm afraid of them, of losing my personality as I am now if I do remember them. But most of all I'm afraid of what everyone will think of me if—if I turn out to be—"

"Nonsense. They'll understand that this war isn't your fault." Knightwood disagreed. Erin turned to her, a hollow look of fear in her eyes.

_She knows_ , Knightwood thought again, certain now that Erin had seen her thoughts that day during the alien interrogation when she recognized the truth. Erin had known since then that Knightwood recognized Erin for what she was: somehow the only living link to the lost civilization that had created _Selesta_ , perhaps even the last one of their race. Erin had only been waiting for Knightwood to come to talk about it, waiting patiently for solace and an assurance that she would not be cast from the ship.

"Knightwood—sometimes I do want to know who sent the ship to Earth," Erin said. "You see—I'm changing. I have been for a long time, gradually changing, but I can't ignore it any more. Now I find myself tempted to use my psychic abilities against others, and I'm not sure I can control them much longer without hope, without some understanding of who I am and what my real purpose for being here is, but at the same time I'm terrified to know—"

"I went to the holo-room once to try to get some answers, the day you found the bodies," Knightwood interrupted. "Maybe if we try together, we can get the computer to tell us something—if not to me, maybe it will respond to you."

"Knightwood—"

"Yes, I've been watching you ever since the day we first arrived—every time _Selesta_ responds to us, it is because you were there to compel it. It's one of the reasons I came to conclude that you were... connected to it in some way."

"All right, I'll go." Erin said, nodding. "Though I fear that power is at the root of my temptations. If I begin to lose myself to it, will you promise to remind me who I am and what I stand for..."

"I'll be here for you."

* * * * *

"Who sent _Selesta_ to Earth?" Erin asked again. She and Knightwood had gone to the holo-room, but the computer had yet to respond to any of their questions.

"What about the _Zariqua Enassa_ the alien said the Orians are looking for? That explains why the Orians came, but not why the _Selesta's_ crew chose to flee to the Earth," Knightwood reminded her. "Or what any of it has to do with the Empire and Federation the Tiernans described, or the "creator" of the lom-vaia. And where is _Selesta_ taking us now?"

_What is the face that haunts me, whose memory brings me pain_? Erin wondered.

At once a broadcast was heard throughout the ship over an alien communications network the Earthlings had not detected. The beautiful, musical, feminine voice spoke in a sing-song manner, in a language not very different from the one the alien pilot had used—at least not to the Earthlings.

Erin stood woodenly, listening to the voice, but finally responded to Knightwood's urgent expression beside her. She paused a moment, then nodded understanding, and began to translate the message over the Earth intercom.

"Today we leave Seynorynael again." She began, her voice strangely accented and far more musical even in English than Knightwood had ever heard it. "We return to _Selesta_ once more, to explore further galaxies, to draw in more territories for Marannkee-il and his insatiable greed, in order to swell his Empire. He is truly an evil ruler. I know he fears our power—his attempt at _transferal_ must have failed. If only they knew what they wish for—but they cannot content themselves. The council wants rid of us now that they have realized their mistake. They cannot steal what is ours, what Hinev gave us, his explorers." At this point, the alien voice had grown quiet, and Erin faltered.

Much of the message made no sense to Knightwood, and she wondered what the thousands across the ship were thinking of the sudden interruption, but she understood the pained expression on Erin's face. Had Erin recognized the voice?

"Who were these explorers?" Knightwood continued, still pondering the message. "Who was that man in the picture, the crew that sleeps below us?!" Knightwood shouted in agitation. The computer had not answered their questions. One ambiguous message was not enough.

A minute passed and she looked to make sure that Erin was all right, but the young lieutenant just stared ahead, her eyes unblinking.

_Is it too late_? _Will I become like them_? _Like the Orian Great Leader_? _Tempted to control the fates of others—devoid of any humane feelings_? _Changed by all I see until I no longer recognize myself_? Erin wondered, then turned to Knightwood, who kept asking about the man in the picture.

_Yes,_ Erin thought, _who was he?_ What had he been like? And who were the explorers? Why had they gone out on their lonely mission?

Suddenly another transmission interrupted the silence. Erin and Knightwood listened to a long message without Knightwood's understanding it, uncertain if the others across the ship could hear it. The male voice spoke like music; like the other voice, the sound was so beautiful that Knightwood hesitated to interrupt. "What did he say?" she asked at last as the message ended, looking Erin in the eye. Erin began slowly, translating as she recollected his words.

"Wait a minute," Knightwood hollered, stopping a moment to open the Earth comnet again. "Start over."

As Erin spoke, Knightwood could almost hear the song of the man's voice accompanying her translation. "Crew log: ship engineer Fielikor Kiel. In response to a question encountered on Eretae 4. What is _Selesta_?—it is our word for discovery, and I have learned much here in Eretae 4. I do not doubt then that Hinev was right, and that we share a connection to the first race; I hope then that we can rebuild ties of friendship and trust among ourselves and these natives." Erin finished the message, her heart pounding, and Knightwood deactivated the comnet.

"Who was he—this Fielikor Kiel?" Knightwood asked.

Erin looked at her as though she thought the answer obvious. "He was the man in the picture," she answered, shaking her head. "The one down in the memorial room. He was the leader of the Seynorynaelian explorers," Erin added, but the last thought came to her unbidden. Nonetheless she recognized it to be true.

"Then the other voice?" Knightwood breathed, her chest suddenly constrained.

"I don't know her name. But she—she was my mother."

* * * * *

"Yes, I am an alien. And I remember her voice, Knightwood, from my earliest memories." Erin attempted to answer the doctor's many questions. "But I can't ask to hear any more right now, please understand. I'll try to translate more messages later, but—please understand, I can't—" She broke off, shaking her head. Erin's head had begun pounding with blinding pain the more she listened to the strange alien messages; after the second, she had been unable to continue.

"Who was she, your mother?" Knightwood asked again.

"I don't know who she was or where she came from, or how she related to the others." Erin insisted. "But she wasn't down there in the Memorial Room—"

"How—"

"I don't know how I know, but she wasn't. She may even have been from the Earth—and then returned with the others to their Empire after the Seynorynaelians discovered the Earth—all I remember is the sound of her voice. But Knightwood, promise that this will remain our secret for now. I need some time—"

"I promise, Erin—for now, I will not tell the others, but you know you can't keep this kind of secret forever." Knightwood nodded. "I told you no matter what it was—I wouldn't hold you responsible. And these messages may be _Selesta's_ idea of satisfactory answers, but as far as I'm concerned, they just raise more questions. Zhdanov and I are going to have one hell of a time trying to figure out what they all mean once we've listened to them all."

"You'll need my help, right?" Erin asked. "Maybe when my headache goes away—" she said, then shrugged.

Knightwood smiled at her. "I think we'll take a crack at what we've already got on our own first. You, my dear, need to get some fresh air—take a walk about the ship or something. Try to clear your mind. You're probably just in shock. Remember, you won't be able to help if you let this turn you into an emotional wreck." Knightwood smiled and pushed Erin towards the door.

Knightwood watched Erin leave and waited for Zhdanov to arrive. As much as she loved Erin Mathieson, the possibility of who she really might be frightened her to death.

* * * * *

Erin walked alone for hours, wandering in and among the corridors of _Selesta._ Was this _Zariqua Enassa_ her mother? Did she wait for her somewhere on board the ship? And where had she come from? Erin shook her head, trying to clear her mind as Knightwood had suggested, but the questions kept coming.

What was she, and what am I?

Erin stopped and looked up when she came to the end of a closed corridor. She had come there automatically, but the thought struck her that she had been here before.

_Who was my father_? She wondered, yet certain it had not been the one called Fielikor Kiel. On Earth, she had always assumed she could never know the answer to these questions—back when everyone thought her original parents had been killed by the _Discovery's_ or _Selesta's_ crash. Then Sasha Blair and Richard Mathieson had taken the roles of mother and father to her, and they had been all she wanted and needed. But here on the Selesta, she knew the truth had been lying in wait for her. And knowing who her original parents had been could never diminish her love for her Earth family.

Without paying attention to the impulse that told her the corridor had been blocked, she stepped up to the wide wall partition.

_Elas-sa hai-eel lirah..._ the words played in her memory. Had she used them before?

The wide metallic door parted in the middle and retracted back into the wall. Before her, a hundred foot high, metal-walled, cavernous hold beckoned. Scintillating light danced on the golden undersides of pale green leaves on the trees before her; a pathway led through the beginnings of a great forest so beautiful that she shook herself to see if she were hallucinating.

She stood paralyzed, just staring. She had dreamed of this place her entire life, but it had been real all along.

### Chapter Thirteen

"Colonel," lieutenant Mathieson's distraught voice interrupted over the emergency frequency to the bridge. Only a few hours before, her voice had translated the sudden messages from _Selesta_ —scraps from the original crew log. Kansier had dispatched two communications officers to try to identify the source of the broadcast in the holoroom and to see if they could unlock more of the crew log stored in computer memory, but the last report had been negative.

What is it now? Scott wondered, concerned by Erin's sudden communication.

"I've found something down here—can you locate my position?" Erin said; her image appeared in the holo-monitor. "Can you see this?" She asked and turned aside, pointing for the videocom to pan to the right, where a wide wall had opened. Beyond it they could make out a wide cavernous space, filled with what appeared to be trees.

"We're on our way," Kansier said.

* * * * *

In all of his life, Arthur Kansier had never seen anything as beautiful as the forest that lieutenant Mathieson had discovered. He had taken a moment on the bridge to call in a scout crew to rendezvous at the location, and he and Major Dimitriev had met them and Erin outside the door. What was a forest doing in the middle of an alien spaceship? he wondered, though not displeased by the discovery.

"Have you gone inside?" he asked the young lieutenant, but she shook her head.

"No, sir—not past a couple of steps, anyway." Erin admitted.

Minutes later the scout party that included old Blue Stripes Einar Suffield-Andersen, Hans Rheinhardt, and Nathalie Quinn arrived. Erin looked at Nathalie as though expecting her friend to join her, but Nathalie remained distant and stayed beside the others in the scout team.

Glancing around as they entered the hold, Kansier was struck by the enormity of the forest—a large part of the unknown interior area had contained this place all along—a forest more than six kilometers long, two wide, and several buildings high. The dense foliage of bright leaves made it difficult to see the roof of the cavern, but after twenty paces they came to a small clearing in the overhead canopy. The holo-sky above showed an intense blue with few scattered clouds, the light it generated so bright that it hurt Kansier's eyes to look up. Filtering through the dense foliage, the light created shadows on the forest floor, outlining the edge of nearby trees.

Had this been what the alien home world looked like? Kansier wondered. If so, how could they have left it behind? It was breathtaking.

Someone had created an artificial breeze to circulate through the forest; as they walked along, the trees rustled with a bewitching alien song, as though they had been perfectly fashioned to create music. There was a sound of the sea in them, Scott thought as he listened.

In truth, the smell of fresh earth and cool air was intoxicating; it would have been so regardless of their long confinement in space. The path through the forest floor branched off in several directions, but they continued to go straight, discovering a small river that cut across it. An earth bridge had been built over the river, allowing them to cross over. Scott surveyed the small purplish-blue stones that skirted the edge of the river, five meters wide at the point where the bridge had been constructed and had an intangible urge to pick one up and skip it across the water.

"What else is in this place that we don't know about?" Einar broke the silence. "And where is that breeze coming from?"

"Now we know how the Seynorynaelians coped with the monotony of a long space voyage," Scott laughed. "It's like being on the surface of a planet."

"Maybe this is what their world looked like," Nathalie suggested, drinking in the wonder around her. The beauty had reanimated her, drawing her little by little out of her own despondent state of mind.

"Yeah, maybe," Einar whistled.

"Yes, this would make a nice retreat—if we can determine that the area is secure of any threat to us," Kansier agreed, looking around as if weighing the possibility that something living might attack them.

"Well, there aren't any tracks indicating animal life so far—" Hans began. A loud noise interrupted him. The scout party looked past the end of the bridge and into the foliage ahead, where the strange rustling noise had originated. The leaves and branches jerked spasmodically as if some creature behind them had pushed them away. The team brought their laser guns up to bear on the thing that emerged from the other side of the forest.

A man staggered forward and looked up at them with one eye open, his head slightly lolled to the side. His torn white labcoat and ragged attire suggested that he had once been from the UESRC, that he had been one of them, a man from Earth.

"Professor Faulkner!" Kansier exclaimed, recognizing the strange creature that faced them as the man he had known years before from various conferences he had attended on the Charon aliens' origins.

Faulkner had focused his attention on Major Dimitriev beside him and chose not to respond to the salutation. "Hinev?" he asked tentatively, then shook his head. The others regarded him in utter confusion and stood their ground as he approached. Then Erin turned around, facing the open clearing. The professor's wandering eye focused in on her.

"You!" he shouted in a voice vaguely human. It had begun to resonate but in a tortured manner, oscillating between one pitch and three. He coughed several times, deteriorating into a fit of gagging noises. "I came to prove who you were," he screamed, remembering his former self. Then his head tilted to the side, as if he recalled something else—"but aren't you Alessia?" he asked. "No, not her—" he shook his head again and again in the manner of a lunatic, until he finally stopped and blinked weakly at them.

"Professor Faulkner, how have you been here all this time? What has sustained you? How did you get here?" Kansier demanded.

"Professor Faulkner," the man repeated, uncomprehending, then suddenly exclaimed as the realization came to him. His rasping laughter sounded more like cackling. "Yes—I am Faulkner," he repeated, remembering himself. He drew his shoulders up and looked Kansier squarely in the eye, suddenly sober.

"I've been here—forever. Dreams. I've lived in dreams. _He_ is here," Faulkner gestured around in a paranoid manner. "He takes care of me—keeps me dreaming. When I wake there is food—but I don't need food—I need—I can't go—" he cringed, looking over his shoulder to see that no one had followed him.

"Who's with you—are there aliens here?" Kansier suggested. Faulkner erupted into laughter.

"He's here—but he isn't here—aliens aren't here—where would they be? They've already left—they're closer than you think," he smiled a knowing smile, and admonished them, wagging an upraised finger. "They welcomed her—but she's one of them."

"What's he talking about?" Dimitriev looked to Kansier as if the Colonel could explain the man's behavior. "How has he been living here without help—no food, no society?"

"Who is here and not here?" Kansier asked. "Who is he that helped you and who is she that is one of them?"

In response, Faulkner cackled again.

"Can you not feel him around you? He taunts your suffering but won't tell you anything—he pities enough to care for your life but won't end your pain—he controls all and led me here—then kept me from leaving, held me in dreams. Ask her—she knows the voice that cannot speak to you," Faulkner pointed to Erin, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

"Erin?" Kansier prompted. "Do you understand what Faulkner is saying?"

Erin lowered her head and said, "he's talking about the ship's computer, I think." The team became aware of running footsteps far behind them, but Erin continued. "Sometimes I think I hear its voice in my mind, but it can't reach me very well—Faulkner hears it, but he thinks the rest of you can't."

Meanwhile, Knightwood, Zhdanov, Urbani, Hanashiro, Cheung, and Dr. Koslov caught up with them. Faulkner looked up at the intruders and began to howl as he spotted Knightwood. All the color had drained from Knightwood's face when she saw him there.

"Dr. Faulkner," she finally managed.

"How did he get here?" Cheung inquired, but Kansier shook his head to indicate that he did not know.

"We'll have to take him back—run some tests on him. Try to help him recover from his ordeal," Kansier suggested.

"Message from the bridge, sir," Einar interrupted. The team paused to listen to the voice of Amina Johnson.

"Prepare for possible wormhole entry within the next two hours—the ship is approaching that blue star system we detected from lom-vaia."

"Good," Kansier said and terminated the signal. Regarding Faulkner's puzzled expression, he explained. "The _Discovery_ always jumps away from blue stars—the planetary systems are devoid of life."

" _Selesta_ knows it is too late to protect her any more," Faulkner shook his head in disagreement, but his objection made no sense to them. "She hasn't much longer. It always knew the moment would come."

"What happened to him?" Knightwood whispered to Kansier. "He doesn't sound like the Faulkner I knew," she whispered sadly, but Faulkner heard her.

_He's raving._ Knightwood thought.

"Knightwood, Knightwood—we fought for nothing." Faulkner shrugged, blinking weakly. "You were right—the Orians wants _Selesta_ —their leader came here to get it. Yes, I was wrong—Earth meant nothing to Orian—but _he_ was the one who wanted Selesta to come here— _he_ controls it all." Faulkner squeezed his hands together, but at last Knightwood understood some of what he said. The others turned to her with questioning gazes.

Knightwood now remembered where she had gotten her recent hypothesis that two alien species, an Empire and a Federation, had discovered the Earth and raced to it—Faulkner had suggested it, and she had reproved his "galactic game", his idea that two groups of explorers had come to the Earth to conquer it. But he had been wrong—and so had she.

She had dismissed her idea that the aliens wanted the _Selesta_ as too simple an explanation, that instead they had followed it to eliminate their rivals before returning to claim another territory. But Faulkner's suggestion that whatever force controlled the ship had brought it to the Earth, knowing the aliens would follow, and yet allowing new occupants to be subject to their aggression, filled her with trepidation.

"I'll explain it all later," she waved aside the questions. _Was_ Zariqua Enassa _the Charon aliens' word for the ship itself—for the entity that controlled it which they called the computer_? she wondered. Faulkner had indicated that the aliens wanted the ship—and the pilot had called the objective _Zariqua Enassa_. But Faulkner referred to the guiding force as "he" rather than "she"—the whole puzzle made no sense.

"Did you tell him the ship's name— _Selesta_?" Knightwood swallowed as the thought suddenly occurred to her that Faulkner had referred to the ship by its Orian name.

"No—" Kansier hesitated, then nodded significantly, meeting Knightwood's eyes.

"Well, in that case, after Faulkner's examination, I think we'd better listen more carefully to what he has to say," Knightwood suggested.

* * * * *

"Please understand, but I want to examine him myself—I knew him better than anyone," Knightwood insisted.

"But why include Mathieson? You and I always work together," Zhdanov protested, a bit annoyed. "There are some symptoms Cheung, Koslov and I would like to check for—" he stopped and sighed. Knightwood stared him down with a decisive glare.

"All right—have it your way." Zhdanov conceded peacefully. "I'll give you an hour—I guess I'll see what luck the scout party has had in finding signs of animal life—and Cheung and Dr. Koslov won't be finished extracting the vegetation samples..." he muttered, already heading back to the forest. Knightwood and Erin, accompanied by the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks from the scout party, led Faulkner to Knightwood's laboratory. Twenty minutes later, Knightwood thanked the escort and let her assistant take Faulkner into the exam room.

"It's good to see you again, Nathalie," Erin said as her friends prepared to leave.

"Is it?" Nathalie asked, with an acerbic edge to her voice, then she relented. "Well, I'm sorry I haven't been myself lately, but—I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"He's got some kind of immunodeficiency disease, I think," Knightwood declared after Erin had entered the lab and the door closed behind her. "He may require a prophylactic injection. Strange—the scanner reports abnormal blood cells—" Erin laid a hand on Knightwood's forearm and shook her head.

"All of that won't tell you anything, Knightwood," Erin said. "When I saw him in the forest, Knightwood—I recognized myself in him, Knightwood. Part of me that was taken a long time ago—blood samples. Dr. Faulkner must have injected them into himself."

"Old blood cells?" Knightwood laughed as though she thought that ridiculous. "Did Cameron take them?"

"No—it was the civilian doctor." Erin shrugged.

"What do blood tests have to do with Faulkner's condition?" Knightwood sounded incredulous but waited to hear an explanation.

"If it had been human blood—then you're right. Injecting old, dead plasma might be ridiculous, but—" Erin swallowed. "You're right about me, Knightwood. I'm _not_ human."

* * * * *

"Can you cycle the Professor's blood?" Erin asked, watching the still form of Faulkner lying on an examination table.

"I can try."

"Do you know how you're going to extract the alien cells?" Erin asked.

"Yes, but I think we ought to bring in a medical doctor, maybe Koslov or that medical expert—Dr. Forren. I'll get him later. He's over in the hospital."

"No," Erin said and shook her head. "We have to keep this confidential, Knightwood, or how many others would try the same foolishness?"

Knightwood nodded, vaguely seeing her point, and began to set up the medical instruments, running a tube into a vein on Faulkner's hand. However, before she could activate the machines, they turned on by themselves. Erin was standing near the middle of the room, away from the machines and Faulkner. Knightwood turned to make an inquiry, but Erin was already in deep concentration, her eyes closed, her arms free by her side, her head bowed.

Violet blood began to collect in the bag, bluer and thinner than ordinary blood. Knightwood watched, strangely fascinated, yet horrified at the same time. She suppressed her fears. A few moments later, the machines deactivated themselves, and Knightwood removed and cleaned the area on Faulkner's hand that had been attached to the device.

"What did you do?" Knightwood threw over her shoulder, still disturbed by what she had seen.

"I understand now, doctor—why he's here." Erin folded her arms across her chest, then looked up at the doctor. "Just before he fell asleep his thoughts became clear. As I suspected, Faulkner tried to use my blood to become like me—he thought that it would induce a transmutation in him, giving him all of the abilities that he thought my people must have possessed. Telepathy, psychokinesis—he wasn't sure how many others. But he knew about the perfect cell replication and cell preservation—qualities he believed would give him eternal life."

"What transmutation? I don't understand." Knightwood looked over where Faulkner lay sleeping. "How could your blood give him mental abilities or did you say 'eternal life'?" She asked in mute shock at what she had heard.

"He thought the cells would transform the ones in his body to manufacture ones like them—reproducing them like an invading virus—but apparently, they wouldn't. He didn't understand that the cells were semi-sentient. They were taken from me against my own will, and wanted only to return to my body. I don't know, but, I think that unless I directed his transformation and willed them to remain in his circulatory system, guiding the process of transformation, it could not take place. At least, not for many years. It might have occurred had I not removed my cells just now—but only after a long, painful struggle—there wouldn't have been much of Professor Faulkner left. He might have remembered himself once the metamorphosis was complete, but there's no telling how the tortured process would have affected him—or what subsequently he would have done to weaker forms of life.

"That was why the ship lured him here and kept him from leaving. It could speak to him once he had injected my cells into his system."

"So that's what he was talking about back there—the voice he heard, why he was trapped there—it all makes sense now." Knightwood pondered, her eyebrows knitting together. "Except one thing—why didn't you tell me before that you could hear the computer that guides the ship? What does it tell you?"

"I can't hear it most of the time." Erin looked towards the computer terminal in the medical room. "I don't know how to reach it until I'm desperate—and then I can hear it automatically, but not in any Earth language. You know I can't control my own telepathy yet, not completely. Besides, if it's something important that concerns our safety—I've always told the crew about whatever I sensed."

"Yes, I know. Just a minute—what did you do with the blood you took, Erin?" Knightwood asked suddenly.

"I injected it into my arm," Erin answered, a half-smile twisting her face.

"Hard to believe. But if your blood is as you say, we can't have anyone else risking such foolishness as to use it for something." Knightwood turned back to Faulkner. "He should wake up in a few days—I think the long nightmare he was subjected to was too much," she said compassionately. Even for Aidan Faulkner, once a respected scientist of the Earth's Sydney Observatory. "I'll give him a drip for fluids and sustenance, but I think he needs old-fashioned rest. Look at that—" she said, as the analyzer's ten minute report flashed over the vid-screen behind him. "He's registering normal brain activity and immune system function now!" she exclaimed in surprise, then turned around to face Erin.

Erin's face had turned incredibly pale. Erin stumbled towards Knightwood without the strength to hold her head steady; her mind reeled as the world spun about her. A moment later, she collapsed and all went black.

* * * * *

_The time approaches, Selerael_ , the voice spoke in her dreams. _You must accept who you are_.

_Don't talk to me, unless you can help me!_ she tried to hold on to the force that had contacted her but couldn't as her thoughts were pulled back to consciousness.

"She's waking up now—step back, please, and give her some room," she heard Dr. Koslov's voice growing closer. It took a considerable effort to open her eyes; she felt drained and tired.

A circle of faces surrounded her, most of them old friends from the Blue Stripes.

"How are you feeling?" Nikolai asked.

"Where am I?" Erin asked, and realized she was in the medical wing. Dr. Knightwood stood behind the others, conversing with Dr. Koslov. The man gave Erin sidelong knowing glances, making eye contact with her. _He knows_ , Erin thought, straining to listen as Dr. Knightwood whispered plans for precautions they would take to keep the news confidential until the patient herself chose to make it known.

"How long have I been here?" Erin asked, her mouth dry as cotton.

"Well, sleeping beauty, you've been out for four days," Einar informed her.

"We've been coming by in shifts to check on you—all of the old Blue Stripes—and a couple of your other friends—a Major Dimitriev was here to see you yesterday," Nathalie winked at Erin from behind the group where the others couldn't see her. "Even Kansier came down this morning. You looked really bad yesterday—feverish and delirious. But they wouldn't say what's wrong with you. Glad to see you're better—" she looked away, and Erin knew she was lying. From the look Nathalie was giving her, she imagined she looked pretty bad. A moment later the Blue Stripes wished her a swift recovery and left together, leaving her alone with Knightwood and Dr. Koslov.

"What happened to Faulkner?" Erin asked but read the answer from Knightwood's mind before Knightwood spoke.

He's fine—but I'm more worried about what's happening to you...

"He's returned to normal—rational and healthy. But he remembers—he had proof of who you were back on Earth. Yes, Dr. Koslov knows," Knightwood nodded, reading Erin's expression, "but no one else—not even Zhdanov, as much as I'd like to tell him. We've isolated Faulkner for the time being to give him recuperation time, but I can't let him go until you're willing to tell everyone in your own way. It'll be difficult keeping his story from the Colonel and the crew for much longer, though. Erin—he knows what you did to him. He wanted to come see you—but we have to keep him confined in the medical wing. And Kansier wants to see him as soon as possible—"

"I understand. I don't have much time to come up with the best way to break the news to everyone," Erin said and nodded.

"I'm afraid not." Knightwood agreed. Several minutes passed as the doctors conferred, and Erin leaned back against the head cushion, allowing her mind to drift.

The doors swished open to allow a visitor, interrupting her thoughts.

"I came to see how Erin is doing," Erin recognized Major Dimitriev's voice and sat up. "Could you give us a moment alone, Knightwood?" Scott asked, and the two doctors left the room.

"Actually I came by to see you when you weren't awake," he said, coming to the end of the bed and sitting on an empty chair. He felt relieved to see her awake.

"I know—the others told me," Erin whispered, focusing her eyes on him, but she began to feel sleep pulling at her and used all of her energy to remain awake. There were some things she wanted to tell him, now that they had been left alone since the first time she had met him back in Central City.

"Scott," she surprised him by addressing him informally, "why are you here?"

"Why? Well, I—" He felt less defensive than he sounded.

"Before you say anything, there's something you have to know. I'm—well, I'm afraid you won't be able to forgive me once you know."

Scott gave her a puzzled expression. "Forgive what? What have you done?" _She_ forgive _me_? he thought. Oh, Erin, unpredictable to the end...

"No, Erin." He said firmly. "It was me who did something to wrong you—" he broke off as she lifted herself upright in protest.

"No, don't. I don't want to hear anything about what I said that day on the _Stargazer_. I just wanted to tell you something—I've been remembering the first day we met all those years ago. It was foolish of me, I see now, to have allowed myself to dream about you, to look for you for years after that day, to see where you were—"

"Erin, if you'd just listen—" Scott began, with rising urgency, but she waved him silent. He listened, not desiring a confrontation that might tire her out.

"Let me finish." She looked away and closed her eyes briefly, then spoke again in a quiet but resolute voice. "I see now how foolish I was. You have a fiancée. But I've been holding on to my feelings—"

"I know."

"At least I couldn't consciously let go of you, even though there were others—"

"You mean Erik," Scott interrupted.

"Yes, Erik mostly. Anyway, it's true that I was in love with you—Erik knew it all along, but you're engaged, so I have to accept that. So, I've decided to forget what I feel and let you live your life. I hope you'll let me take back my last confession. I just decided I was tiring of regrets, and I had to tell you that I don't hold anything against you—" she faltered, feeling her strength leaving her.

Let her take back those words? He thought, dismayed by the suggestion.

"Erin," he whispered, swallowing back fear as her face paled and her breathing suddenly seemed to come in ragged breaths. No words had never affected him like this before—he felt such upset to hear the admission that Erin no longer cared about him or that at least she was willing to put it aside for his sake.

Then he realized that Erin wasn't moving.

"Knightwood! Dr. Koslov!" he cried, and the scientists appeared at the door. "Do something quickly!" he shouted. "I think she's dead!"

Scott moved aside quickly and allowed Knightwood to approach. Dr. Koslov called Colonel Kansier from the videocom, even though it would have been too late; it would take the Colonel a few minutes to arrive from the bridge.

Knightwood looked up in alarm, reading no pulse.

"Can you do something?" Scott shouted anxiously, reading her expression. Knightwood said nothing but quietly turned to retrieve the electro-cardio stimulator. What could she do? Knightwood thought. If this was the affliction that had killed the original inhabitants of _Selesta_ , for God's sake, what could _she_ do? Yet Knightwood was too much of a fighter to give up trying.

Meanwhile, Scott watched, now paralyzed. He had not felt such desperation since his mother and beloved twin Katya were taken from him—such anger that those he loved most in the world were being taken from him far too soon in his life. Why was she dying? Not even the doctors would tell him. At the same time, his reservations about Catherine and Justin began to fade into the background as he realized that all this time, he loved her more than anyone.

As Scott watched the progress, Colonel Kansier arrived while the doctors tried to revive Erin, but her body did not seem to be responding to any of the machines they used to try to animate her. Kansier saw the expression of incredulity on Knightwood's face. Her usual composure began to show cracks. She seemed almost distraught—frantic that she had made some kind of miscalculation. But why _that_ expression, more than grief, more than sympathy? he wondered briefly, then turned to his own thoughts. The poor young woman, he thought, looking down on her. It was true his crew would be lost without her telepathic abilities in future alien encounters, but that was not his main concern right now. He found there was only room in his heart for sympathy and sadness; this unavoidable sentiment prevailed whenever young people died.

Minutes passed, and Knightwood stepped back, her eyes filling with tears. She met Kansier's gaze and shook her head hopelessly.

As the doctors retreated, Scott bent down and took Erin's limp hand in his tenderly. His head was bowed, but his voice was thick as he whispered to her.

"Erin, dearest Erin, I love you. You knew it, didn't you? Didn't you?" He asked, his eyes burning with unstoppable tears.

As he held her, the room was slowly filled with blue light, seeping through the observation window from the blue star just off _Selesta's_ path.

"I thought the ship was going to take us clear of that blue star," Kansier spoke with strained composure through his wrist communicator to the bridge, moved by Dimitriev's change of heart. So, he had been right all along in his suspicions. Such a shame that the young had not the clarity and wisdom of their elders, until it was too late to rectify past mistakes, he thought sadly. The young are masters of wasted time, he thought, then shook off the sentimentality. He was the ship's captain; as much as he might grieve later, right now he had to put his crew above his own concerns. "Are you sure _Selesta_ 's shields are holding against the gamma radiation?" He asked the bridge.

"Yes, sir. Radiation levels show normal," the voice of one of the ship's communicators, lieutenant Sekuwan Fish, was heard.

"All right—keep me informed if the situation changes. Kansier out—" he stopped suddenly, his lips still near the communicator on his wrist.

There was no sound in the room. Scott had let go of Erin and froze, his eyes staring down at the dead girl lying on the examination table. The Earthlings gathered around Erin Mathieson didn't dare to move. They watched the transmogrification, entranced. The skin of the young lieutenant, now bathed in the blue light, appeared to drink in the rays, turning a pale grey before their eyes. Her body began radiating a faint aura of energy. Her hair absorbed the light.

Kansier stepped back, the hair on his neck rising. Erin now looked almost like a ghost.

Though she had known the truth about Erin for several days now, Knightwood sucked in her breath. A reality of Erin's origins had only sunk in at that moment, now that the illusion that had surrounded her had faded for good.

_Strange—in a way, she looks like the crew below_ Selesta, Knightwood thought unconsciously. _And like both races, too—a bit like the Charon aliens as well_.

Now there was no mistaking the fact—Erin Mathieson had never been human. Then, as Knightwood watched her, the young lieutenant suddenly stirred to life, and the lifesigns monitor began to register strange fluctuations.

"She's alive!" Knightwood exclaimed, as Erin's chest began to rise and fall.

"Alive?" Scott breathed, looking down on a face he did not recognize.

### Chapter Fourteen

Top Security had to be maintained for the time being, that much Kansier knew, and with this in mind, he quickly ordered Erin Mathieson's room restricted to visitors. To Knightwood's relief, the young woman had begun to register a pulse—though an uneven one—again, but she remained unconscious.

Colonel Kansier called an emergency meeting to take place in the nearby medical wing conference room. Zhdanov, Cheung, Captain Kolesar, and a few other scientists arrived in under twenty minutes. Breaking the news of the discovery was not easy, but somehow witnessing the reactions of the new arrivals made it easy for those who had witnessed the transformation itself to accept it.

Knightwood studied her husband as he was led into the room where Erin slept. His face froze, his lips slightly parted, but his eyes grew wide. The worst part was when he looked at his wife—he knew her well enough to suspect that she had known the truth for some time. At last he had his explanation as to why she had let Erin examine Faulkner, why all the secret tête-à-têtes.

"How did they do it? How did they fool us for so long?" He asked, incredulous. "Erin looked as human as any of us—how could her people disguise her physical appearance to resemble a human being?" Zhdanov wondered aloud as the team returned to the conference room. The entire corridor connecting the rooms had been sealed from unauthorized access for at least the next few hours.

"I don't know. I understand why they might have—" Knightwood offered, realizing that the others had stopped to listen to their speculations, "—if they knew they were dying, they might have hoped she would be found and raised by us—but only if she appeared to be human. They were probably right—we would have used her as a guinea pig if we had known earlier, and she wouldn't have had a normal, happy life."

"But what if they didn't die—what if the others are still on Earth, disguised like she was?" Captain Kolesar suggested.

"I guess it is possible—but it doesn't really matter to us anymore," Zhdanov nodded thoughtfully, soberly. "And if they were willing to leave the ship for our home, they left us in peace all those years. I don't think the situation will change. If they are alive, they didn't destroy us with _Selesta_ when they could have. But none of what's happened would make any sense if they were. Why would they give up one of their own and not try to reclaim her if they still lived?"

Knightwood was struck with the sudden suspicion that perhaps these Orians were doing just that, trying to reclaim one of their own, the strange 'Zariqua Enassa'. Although Knightwood saw that Erin did not look like the Orians, she couldn't help but wonder if the girl were half-Orian and half of the race of _Selesta's_ former occupants, that perhaps Erin was a disputed child. The races could even have been fighting over her—perhaps even for control of her powerful psychic abilities.

"Why was it that the _Selesta_ allowed us inside and left the system with new passengers without waiting for the old ones to return?" Zhdanov continued; he did not state the unspoken possibility for the last question—that the ship itself had a mind of its own and had marooned the original crew deliberately.

The last of the team entered the conference room and sat around the table, Knightwood next to Kansier and Zhdanov, Kolesar to the Colonel's left, Cheung, then Dimitriev next to him. The Major hadn't said a word since he called her and Dr. Koslov into Erin's room.

"What I want to know is—why didn't one of you scientists suspect before that the girl we know as Erin Mathieson was in reality an alien?" Kansier asked. "Of course it all makes sense now—the ship has always responded to her since the day she found the entrance and led your UESRC recon team through it," he added, shaking his head. "She instigated every new discovery—the holo-room, the memorial room, the forest—she herself waited to be found, wandering near the ship in the rural zone of sector eight as a child before being adopted by Mathieson and Blair."

"Perhaps one of us did suspect it," Knightwood said, drawing all of the eyes around the table. "I just remembered something—all those years on Earth, Cameron performed Erin's annual medical exams himself. He left a restriction order in her file banning her from outside treatment for her cancer that might interfere with his own treatments."

"Of course—he must have known." Zhdanov nodded. "He must have done what he did to protect her—or watch to see what she might do. He probably hoped she would be the key to defeating the aliens, but thought she might never get the chance to become that key if we let her become a guinea pig." _Cameron, you knew us too well,_ Zhdanov thought. _You wouldn't allow her to be experimented on, would you? You always said that knowledge is a power and that is it is our responsibility to use it correctly, humanely. You were right—as scientists, we sometimes forget that. But not anymore, my friend—not after what we've been through since we left behind our Earth._

"Do you think that the dead crew in the memorial room are her people?" Koslov asked. "Because if she's one of them, then maybe she can help clear things up. They must have known who the other aliens are and what they were after. Remember that the pilot recognized her—he said she was disguised, that his leader wanted her."

"Maybe the Charon aliens—that is, maybe the _Orians_ killed her people," Knightwood suggested, "and that was why they disguised her among us. Maybe the reason they didn't destroy us on Earth was that they weren't trying to get _us_ —they wanted _her_ , and killed those that got in their way. And the city raids—do you suppose they were looking for the ship?"

"That doesn't make sense," Cheung protested. "They should have been able to find it."

"Not necessarily." Zhdanov interjected. "Remember that it was hidden by an anti-radar device for a long time. And perhaps they couldn't risk bringing the _Enlil_ to the Earth. They might not have known the crew of _Selesta_ had gone, that they wouldn't be destroyed by the Earth-bound ship. And without their larger cruisers on the surface, they might not have been able to thoroughly reconnoiter its whereabouts." Zhdanov steepled his palms.

"Maybe they hoped if they attacked us long enough, the crew on board would reveal themselves in an effort to protect us—all our evidence points to the fact that the _Selesta's_ crew didn't intend us any harm," Zhdanov continued. "They were willing to put one of their children among us, trusting our culture with her care. They must have had great faith in humanity. It could be why they fled to our world in the first place—maybe they hoped they would not be followed there."

The others considered what Zhdanov had said a moment.

_Just how long has our presence in the galaxy been known_? Cheung wondered privately.

"But why did Faulkner say that the computer brought them here—that _he_ controls it all?" Cheung asked, scratching his cheek.

"Do you think what he said might have been significant?" Kansier turned to Knightwood.

"I don't know. He was only raving until Erin withdrew her blood cells from his system." Knightwood said. The others turned to glare at her, shocked. "Oh, I forgot that detail," she added apologetically.

The others listened attentively as she explained that Faulkner had also found out about Erin on Earth, how he had obtained her blood samples and what his purpose had been, why the ship had kept him and how Erin had redressed the damage by removing her blood cells, that for some reason had stayed like an emulsion in his bloodstream. At first, they were skeptical that Erin's blood could have granted him any metamorphosis; many of them expressed doubts as to Faulkner's sanity and credibility. But Knightwood insisted he had mentioned hearing the computer's voice in his incarceration, that Erin herself admitted her blood in his system had allowed him to hear it.

"Hmmm," Kansier mused. "It would seem then that Faulkner's imput is more significant than I first thought. What did he tell you about his hallucinations?"

"Nothing much since he was cured." Knightwood admitted. "The whole ordeal is buried in his mind like some bad dream, if you'll pardon the expression. He only recalls his thoughts before the injection—how he was going to prove who Erin was."

"Then perhaps we should test the lieutenant to determine the extent of her abilities." Kansier exhaled slowly. "If she is capable of telepathy, then she could try to reach the hallucinations in Faulkner's mind. They may be nothing—but if the ship spoke to him all these years—" his voice trailed off.

"Who were Hinev and Alessia?" Dimitriev suddenly asked, speaking for the first time. Knightwood looked at him curiously but then remembered Faulkner's words. "He looked at me and asked if I was Hinev—then he looked at Erin and called her Alessia."

"It may be important," Zhdanov shrugged. "If those people he saw in his dreams could tell us who _Zariqua Enassa_ is and where to find her—the woman the pilot mistook Erin for," he added, seeing Kolesar's confusion. "I'll bet the pilot knew that Erin was an alien but was thrown by her disguise. He might have thought that anyone on board the ship having reason to hide would have to be this Zariqua woman."

"Well, I don't think speculation will lead us anywhere." Koslov leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "Knightwood, Zhdanov, do you think you can reach Erin's hidden abilities and draw them out? You two have known her since the day she was found. If anyone can determine what she is—I'll wager the pair of you can," Dr. Koslov suggested. Kansier nodded his approval, and Knightwood and Zhdanov agreed to try.

"Meanwhile, we're going to have to figure out some way to inform the crew—we can't keep Erin locked up in confinement forever. It is after all, well it may be _her_ ship now. We have never been more than passengers," Kansier coughed, relinquishing his own reservations to a general sense of right, not letting his emotions show.

"No, Colonel," a hypnotic, musical voice interrupted the meeting. Erin stood in the doorway, having entered silently. "You are the captain of this ship. Excuse me, sir." She stood at attention, now appearing completely out of place among the Earthlings in the alien attire the Blue team crew had adopted. "Lieutenant Mathieson requesting permission to join the conference."

Kansier blinked mutely a moment, then smiled. "Permission granted, lieutenant. Welcome."

* * * * *

Scott watched the others staring at Erin, some fearfully, others with mute surprise or hostile expressions of accusation. She was like a creature out of a dream, he thought. Her skin now had the pale, transient glow of a ghost or other supernatural creature, but Scott was not afraid.

He had not been afraid of her even as he had witnessed her transformation; his mind just could not accept the truth about her real identity. He had been afraid that if he did accept it, he would not be able to forgive her, that he would come to resent her because her people had come to Earth and brought their battle there, because by so coming to the Earth they had endangered the entire human race.

And destroyed his family.

Yet strangely, seeing the others' hostility towards her defeated his own resentments. What had she really done? Nothing, his reasoning told him, except fight alongside her Earth comrades against their common enemy. Anyway, the Earth never knew the aliens of _Selesta_ , he told himself. Remembering their peaceful faces, so much like Erin's, as they slept below in the ship, he realized he wanted to like them, Erin's people who had also likely been victims of the Orians' violence.

However, he still couldn't overlook the fact that their conflict had destroyed Earth's peace and so many human lives, that all of the Earthlings' assumptions about the innocence of the _Selesta_ crew could have been unfounded. His own family would be alive if _Selesta_ hadn't come to the Earth.

Scott looked up and across the room where Erin sat, trying to appear at ease in her environment but bristling under the attention of so many eyes. Then he noticed Captain Kolesar staring at her in dislike and suppressed a wave of indignant anger.

He knew then that it didn't matter what Erin had turned out to be.

He would never deny his feelings for her again.

* * * * *

That afternoon, Kansier agreed to allow Ho-ling Chen and Nathalie Quinn to visit Erin in her room in the medical wing. Zhdanov hoped to measure their reactions to the change in their friend before releasing the information to the entire crew.

Half an hour later, the two girls arrived in the medical unit, confused by the summons and even more surprised to see the large group of scientists and the top ship officers in the conference lounge.

Knightwood stopped the pair at the door to Erin's room to prepare them.

"Knightwood, what's going on?" Nathalie asked, suppressing a current of fear. She knew she would not be able to deal with Erin's death; was that what all of the mystery was about? "Why did Kansier call us to visit Erin? Don't tell me she's gotten worse." Knightwood shook her head, raising a hand to stop them from asking more questions of a similar nature.

"I can't explain everything out here." Knightwood said calmly, not certain at all where to begin or how best to break the news of Erin's true identity to them. "But listen carefully—Erin's not the same person you left here this morning." She continued evasively. "Something's happened since then that has—changed... her." Knightwood met their questioning faces and shook her head. "She wanted to see you two first, before the entire crew finds out—to see how you'll handle the news, to make sure that you will still be her friends despite—what's happened."

Nathalie and Ho-ling exchanged confused glances, as though Knightwood wasn't making any sense at all; Knightwood sighed, sensing that they had begun to imagine some kind of horrible affliction that Erin might have developed.

"Erin will always be our friend, Knightwood, no matter what happens to her," Ho-ling said, a little annoyed by Knightwood's insinuations to the contrary. "We went through a lot together, Knightwood. I hope you aren't suggesting something could change that. Whatever is happening to her, I imagine she'll need us now more than ever."

"I hope you truly feel that way," Knightwood said soberly. "Because this is going to test your convictions," she finished, and extended an arm in a gesture to go ahead. "But please, prepare yourselves for quite a shock."

Nathalie knew something was wrong, but plunged ahead, determined to put an end to the mystery. Erin was looking at the opposite wall when they entered. Nathalie took one look at her and suppressed a shudder. Ho-ling stood staring blankly, an expression of incomprehension on her face.

Erin was an alien.

"Erin, I can't believe—you're—"

"She's an alien," Ho-ling said quietly, with a vacant stare. The name Erin suddenly seemed entirely inappropriate for a creature not from the Earth.

"No, it isn't true!" Nathalie protested. "Is this some kind of game you're trying to play? Knightwood, there's something wrong with the light in this room," she called back through the open doorway.

Erin shook her head, facing them bravely. "I am what you see," she said. "But I never knew until just a day ago—"

"My God, then your family never knew who you really were?" Nathalie asked, shaking her head.

"No. You seem upset, Nathalie."

"Upset? No, I'm not upset. Just surprised. No, more than surprised. Of everything that's happened on this crazy ship, this is the one thing I didn't expect." Nathalie added, coming and sitting down beside her, looking into Erin's once familiar face, "But you're still the same somehow. It's bizarre," she declared. "You know, I can't help but wonder what the others will think when they find out."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Erin said.

"The Blue Stripes will accept you, I'm certain of that." Ho-ling offered. "But the others—"

"Might end up blaming me for everything that's happened to them."

"Yes," Nathalie agreed.

"And what about you, Nathalie? Have I lost your friendship?" Erin said, her voice steady, but there was a definite note of concern in it. Nathalie paused a moment, reflecting upon their past together, upon her own resentments. It took but a moment to decide. Nathalie was not one to dwell on her own misfortunes or blame others for them.

"Of course you haven't, you idiot." Nathalie sighed impatiently. "Would I be talking to you otherwise?"

"Don't hold anything back now, Nathalie," Erin laughed.

"I'll stand by you, too." Ho-ling promised.

"Just imagine," Nathalie said, a half-smile on her face. "Erin was one of the aliens all along—all those years in training, and we never knew it, never even suspected—"

"You're not one of the Char—Orians, are you?" Ho-ling wondered, disturbed by the idea.

"As far as I know, my mother was one of _Selesta's_ original crew." Erin replied, shaking her head.

"But—" Nathalie began, her brows raised in open skepticism.

"How do I know?" Erin asked. "I see what you're thinking," Erin shook her head. "And I've wondered how I can be certain myself, since I don't have any memory of who I was before I came to the Earth. But I can tell you that I did recognize my biological mother's voice that day when we heard fragments of the original crew log. Unfortunately, her voice is about the only thing I do remember. Cheung, Knightwood, and Zhdanov have been asking all kinds of questions, but I'm afraid I haven't been able to help out any more than I did before."

"So you don't know why we're on this trip?" Ho-ling asked. Erin shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Then you're as much of a prisoner in here as we are," Nathalie said. "And in my book, that counts for something. Don't worry about the others, Erin. They'll see it my way," Nathalie vowed, with a glow of conspiracy about her.

* * * * *

Knightwood was finishing a long preamble when Ho-ling, Nathalie, Hans, and Nikolai entered on cue and tried to prepare the others. The Blue Stripes had accepted the new Erin Mathieson on their own and urged the others to consider that she hadn't really changed—only their perception of her was different. Had she murdered the crew in their sleep? No. Had she betrayed them to the enemy? No.

Hans had only laughed out loud at the news with good humor. Nikolai had been preoccupied with questions about alien anatomy, as though concerned Erin might be missing some human essentials, questions which were quickly resolved to his satisfaction. Einar marveled that he would never have been able to keep such a secret. Erik had said nothing. His eyes had given away nothing of his reaction to Erin's new form, but he was present at the present meeting.

As reasonable as the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks' introductory arguments had been, Erin's entry defied the threshold of reality. As she walked in, a low hush faded into stony silence; the small surprises of the past two years did little to mitigate the disbelief on all of the ship's officers' faces as they stared at a creature unlike any they had ever seen before.

In order to stem any premature questions on the subject, Kansier was quick to point out that though Erin appeared similar to the Orians in hair color, she had been found before the arrival of the second alien ship—outside the _Selesta_ the day it landed.

"You know, it all makes sense," Nikolai Kaganov declared suddenly to Einar, Hans, and the others while the officers fell into various discussions. "It was Erin who found the entrance to the ship."

"And who knew her way through. Plus all of those discoveries—" Hans added, expounding upon Nikolai's idea.

"And it also explains how the lieutenant was able to communicate with the alien creatures on Elphor, Tiernan, and lom-vaia." Zhdanov interrupted from a few seats down, where he had been eavesdropping. "Without her abilities, we would not have learned all we did about those planets—we may not have even escaped from Elphor." Zhdanov added, remembering how Erin had cleared up the misunderstanding when the crew had taken the _dthúl_ plants for food.

"And there were also times I thought our escapes too miraculous," Knightwood put out, drawing looks of confusion. "All of our experiences around _Selesta_ and _Enlil_ have been well timed to minimize the danger to us. At first I thought it was only the Selesta's computer acting, but I have on occasion noticed unusual behavior from Erin. I would guess she was behind our good fortune."

The officers around them had stopped to listen when Zhdanov spoke; now near silence reigned as they digested Knightwood's suggestion and wondered how much of it might be true.

"After she found out who she was, she told me she would never let any harm come to the crew, that she would do all in her power to protect us," Knightwood continued, aware that she had the assembly's attention. "If that is not true fidelity, then what is?"

"But who is she, Knightwood?" Hans wondered suddenly; the question was on all of their minds, but no one had answered it to any degree of satisfaction. Knightwood regarded him thoughtfully; she did not know the answer herself.

Kansier then decided it was time to give a detailed account of the interchange between Erin and the alien pilot and called the meeting to order to replay the holographic footage that had been taken. The pilot's information cleared up the strange crew log transmissions Erin had translated over the intercom. Strangest of all came the realization that they had been blind to the tell-tale alien characteristics of Erin-Mathieson Blair present all along and unmistakable throughout the alien interview.

Learning of the discovery of Faulkner in the forest and seeing the replay of his reaction to being discovered now intrigued those that had not been present at the time. Kansier had yet to allow access to the forest, but the stories from those who had seen it already had raised the Blue Stripes' anticipation of enjoying the area, and he knew he would not be able to hold off the crew for long.

As the explanations tapered off, the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks gradually began to realize that the scientists and Erin herself knew little more than the information they had presented them. Nikolai looked at Knightwood and Zhdanov with a knowing smile; now certainly _they_ had some private suppositions but no doubt chose to keep them to themselves until further evidence could be obtained.

The greatest surprise to Hans was that neither Erin nor any of them knew who exactly she was and why she alone had survived whatever had caused the disappearance of her people.

" _Selesta_ , if you know, tell me who I am." Erin said suddenly, standing, as though unable to take the questions any longer. She glared at the ceiling as though defying the presence on board the ship not to answer her. "What is my real name, and who were my people?!"

Several minutes passed in silence, but just as the conversation began to pick up again, the walls stirred to life, emitting a dull, synthesized hum from no identifiable source, and the entire space in the room was soon filled with an odd resonating sound that formed into laconic, slowly pronounced English words, as though the speaker was not comfortable in articulating the Earth language.

"You—are—Selerael, daughter of Alessia, lasst sur-vivor of—Seynorynael—and the starship _Selesta_."

The hum abruptly ended and the room was still.

* * * * *

"That's amazing. The ship just spoke to us," said Hans with a whistle.

"Say-nor-i-nay-yel," Einar repeated some moments later. "We keep hearing about Seynorynael. What is it, do you think?" He asked, directing his questions to the scientists.

"You mean a city or a country? A planet or a colony or a galaxy?" Hans again interjected. "No idea." He shook his head.

"I believe it was a planet," Knightwood responded. "From everything we've heard about the place, it was the center of an Empire that had reached as far as Tiernan and Elphor."

"And your mother was the last survivor." Nikolai said somberly, turning to Erin. "So what happened to all of the others?" He wondered.

"Yes, very interesting question," Knightwood said. "Maybe the others were killed. We know they were explorers. Perhaps they came into contact with something lethal to their kind, even as hardy as we can reasonably assume they were. Maybe they are the ones we found in the memorial room." She added, thinking of the strange man of the picture, whose name she had so recently discovered. Who had been this Fielikor Kiel? Was he also originally from this place—this Seynorynael? Erin said that he had been their leader. But why had he died so young? Why had they all?

All except—

"Erin," Knightwood said suddenly. "We've got to find your mother, if she is still alive somewhere. Do you think the computer knows where she is? Is it possible she is still on board? Could the computer show us what she looked like, so we might recognize her if we saw her?"

"I don't know, Knightwood," Erin admitted.

"Could you try to ask it for us?" Knightwood said.

"I suppose," Erin agreed, and the room lapsed into silence. All eyes had turned to her. "Computer," she called. "I—want you to show me Alessia!"

There was no answer. Then, a low whining noise was heard in the dormant terminal on the wall, identical to the countless other alien consoles and chronometers in most rooms across the ship. None of them had ever made any sign indicating that they still functioned.

At once the console sprang to life, illuminating a panorama of panels and displays. From one of these, a pale, ghostly light was projected, a sphere which grew until it reached the far wall and richoted back, then bounced off the reflective, metallic walls at different angles, growing in intensity until an image formed in its very center, now centering on the middle of the room around which the conference tables were clustered.

The young woman was sitting at a lab table, only recently interrupted by an intruder from the startled expression on her face.

It was a magnificent face. Her skin was a pale white, her white hair luminous as ice; she had strange eyes, as deep, mysterious, and unfathomable as the ocean itself. The irises were hypnotic. A cloak of light surrounded her. She wore a dark black uniform embellished with tiny triangular and elliptical panels about the shoulders and down the sides. Luminescent blues and greens reflected brightly amid the deep black, running together and creating a wave-like illusion of motion.

The creature seemed like a ghost.

She looked a lot like Erin.

* * * * *

Knightwood tossed and turned late into the night, her mind too active to let her sleep. Alessia had to be the _Zariqua Enassa_ person the alien pilot had told them about, she thought. _That_ was why the alien pilot thought he recognized her.

_But who had Erin's father been? Perhaps, if the races were of one species..._ Knightwood couldn't help but wonder if Erin were half Orian—which might explain the reason her hair was not white like the others from Selesta, why it was white-blonde like the alien pilot. If her hunch was correct, then that was why the Charon aliens were following them but never seemed to win a decisive victory, even when they had taken the upper hand. Erin could very well be the Orian Leader's daughter.

The next morning, Knightwood and Zhdanov joined the other scientists waiting in the Botanical Gardens to test the extent of Erin's strange abilities. But the first item on the list was solving the mystery of Faulkner's actions.

The examination ended up lasting two days, even with a team of scientists working. They found they could not extract material samples from Erin's blood stream immediately. Knightwood had taken a needle and could not get the blood to enter the tube. She tried a large intravenous tube, piercing the skin on Erin's hand, but received the same incredible result. Then, pulling the tube away, she watched in amazement as the tiny hole _resealed_ as if it had never been there, leaving no trace of entry!

When the other scientists hesitated to believe her, Knightwood urged them to make an incision in Erin's arm. The others refused, owing to the fact that it was completely unnecessary to cut the tissues for the bioscan, but Erin agreed with Knightwood and reached out to take the scalpel and made a long, clean incision on her left forearm. The others watched skeptically as she removed the scalpel. The tissues quickly drew together and healed, leaving only smooth, unmarked skin.

Knightwood's discovery created some excitement. The scientists brought over a dozen scanners to do the work for them, and cataloged the layers in the computer bank, allowing it a few minutes to sort out the various strata of cells, beneath the skin to the tissues and blood vessels—it was the only way they were going to get a look at their subject. But it took them two days to decipher the function of the bizarre tri-nucleated cells and the chloroplast-like cell organelles. Still, the scientists were able to confirm one thing: the regeneration they had observed was a part of an overall body protection system, a system that halted the aging process beyond full maturation by protecting the cells and by perfect cell replication.

Knightwood was beside herself.

The magnitude of the discovery contented the other scientists, and gave them each a specific area in which to specialize while Knightwood completed the task assigned to her alone—to test Erin's mental abilities. Kansier had hoped that Knightwood's relationship with Erin might help the girl use her skills better, without a larger audience to distract her.

Erin's telepathic ability had grown exponentially since it had first appeared in childhood—Erin explained that she had been able to "sense thoughts" even then, but she had not been able to control her ability well, and the thoughts she received were usually only vague ideas. Also, back then she had not been able to transmit her thoughts, but now she could speak to Knightwood without words easily. The thoughts she withdrew from others could now reach below the subconscious and extract colorful memories, complete images and feelings, recreating the actual moment in which the memory had been formed, retracing the imprint and pathways of the electric impulses.

Erin confessed to Knightwood about what had given her the worst feelings of guilt as a child; when she had wanted something badly, she had sometimes felt her mind involuntarily "push" someone to do as she wanted against their own will. The ability had come sporadically back then, but after her recent metamorphosis, she had found her control over it growing. Knightwood asked Erin to demonstrate, and Erin made Knightwood follow her to the nearest flight simulator and get into the cockpit. Knightwood activated the machine, ready to observe the images that only brought back agonizing memories of a tragic plane crash in her past. But Erin stopped her short of activating the program.

Knightwood nodded, feeling the vice-like grip of Erin's mind as she forced Knightwood to climb into the simulator with the ease of a pilot. Erin then assaulted Knightwood's mind with another ability, the "push" she had described, and convinced Knightwood herself that she loved flying. But when the feeling faded, Knightwood's fear returned. She wondered if Erin could use these abilities together, to push someone to act and persuade them that what they did was correct and of their own choosing. Then Knightwood shrugged and laughed inwardly, wishing Erin had been there to help during years of UESF Council meetings.

Knightwood's study prompted her to ask if Erin had ever before used telekinesis to move objects without looking at them, but Erin explained that she hadn't really practiced much in moving things. Over the next few hours, she attempted to move small items first as she had a few times in childhood, closing her eyes and concentrating on the atoms of the air that separated her from the small writing instrument on Knightwood's desk.

After several attempts, Erin was able to hold it in the air and move it around. Knightwood then urged her to move on to larger test pieces, and as the minutes passed, Erin found her power growing. The trickle of semi-sentient waves she sent through to the atoms in the air and to the objects beyond widened into a flood of energy.

Knightwood suddenly felt herself light as a feather and spun in a circle before Erin put her feet back on the ground.

Then, as Erin projected her own emotion to her, Knightwood knew what it was like to love to fly. The feeling became a part of her and confused her, existing alongside her hatred and fear of planes and shuttles.

"Can you send me thoughts and memories—feelings from other people?" Knightwood asked, and right away felt her husband's enthusiasm for what she considered prosaic experiments, Kansier's memory of his first glimpse of Neptune, and Ho-ling's thoughts about the mess hall's lunch menu.

"While you held me up there, I couldn't move," Knightwood stopped to consider something. "Do you think you could control the motor function of my body cataleptically—make me flap my arms or something while you hold me there?" Erin nodded, and Knightwood felt the motor functions of her body move involuntarily, as if she had sent the signal from her brain to her arms.

_With ability like this_ , she shuddered, _Erin could animate the dead_.

Knightwood shrugged off her morbid scenario, brightening as she considered other possibilities. _Or—someone who couldn't walk or had lost feeling through the skin. Think, Knightwood, now what if I could animate the electric impulses of their nervous systems—why then I might be able to reform the damaged nerves by flooding them with these semi-sentient cooperative waves, almost like telekinesis_...

"Of course, Erin—you should be able to control electrons, and leptons, quarks—even subatomic particles," Knightwood shook her head.

"No," Erin said emphatically. "I can't control them—I can influence their motions temporarily. It is far easier to control living systems, where the systems operate through the will or by involuntary but electric stimulation. I think I might even be able to change organic structures. But Knightwood, there's something else I forgot to mention," Erin added, and Knightwood waited expectantly. "Two days ago, as we jumped through the wormhole near that blue star system—was the jump instantaneous to you?"

Knightwood furrowed her brow. "Yes, it was," her tone persuaded Erin to elaborate.

"Well, ever since the first jump, I felt the mass of my body almost disappear into energy. In that state, I... was able to observe everywhere on the ship at once, but nothing moves," she went on hurriedly. "A long time passes, and I retrace the path to my body in the same quick pattern—that is, my awareness returns to one point. Then I feel whole again—matter—and the ship returns to normal."

"You mean—" Knightwood stopped.

"I think my body converts from mass to energy and back to mass again." Erin said. If someone else had made such a statement, Knightwood would never have believed it possible.

"Why?" Knightwood asked, her hand pressed against her cheek.

"I've thought about it a lot—but I still don't know." Erin said.

"Hmmm. Maybe it's some kind of defense mechanism." Knightwood massaged her forehead with her palm, then dropped her arms to her side and stood up decisively. "Anyway, we've got time to sort that out. You've got to prepare yourself for tonight when Kansier informs the entire ship about your origins. There will be a lot of questions. They're going to look to you or answers, for guidance, even if you don't know where _Selesta_ is taking us or why we're going there."

Erin nodded. She realized in avoiding acknowledging her power all those years, she had been trying to deny her own responsibility in the war. But deep down, she had always known. She had only wanted to cling to the dream on Earth, the simplicity, comfort, and privacy of a life all her own and not controlled by others, swept along by the events set into motion long before she had ever been born.

She finally understood the meaning of power—it was far too expensive a gift because the responsibility over so many lives had come with it. Realizing that—she knew she would not be able to use it to secure her own happiness. The temptation she had fought died a quick death.

But as she suppressed her inner demons, another voice continued to call out to her. After all that had happened, she still couldn't understand.

She could not feel its desperation.

### Chapter Fifteen

Scott strode across the near-empty observation deck where Catherine Cresson lay on a lounge panel reading.

"Catherine, I need to talk to you," Scott interrupted in a firm voice. He had been debating with himself how to break the news to her for the past several hours; he did care for her, he knew, but not as he should have, not enough to marry her, he realized. With that realization he knew what he had to do, what he ought to do, but that did not make doing the right thing any easier.

Catherine blinked and looked up, her fingers still clutching the small printscreen.

"Oh, Scott—I didn't hear you come in." She offered pleasantly.

"Catherine, I—there's something I need to tell you," Scott said; Catherine stared intently at him, her eyes revealing her confusion.

"I have a confession to make," Scott said resolutely, turning to face her after a moment.

"Yes?"

"I won't lie to you, Catherine. You know you mean a great deal to me, but, I can't live a lie, either. For a long time now I've been denying my true feelings, but I won't any longer."

"What true feelings? What are you trying to say, Scott?"

"I—don't love you, Catherine. I'm not sure I ever really did love you—at least not the way you deserve." He paused, breathing deeply. "I'd like to call off our engagement. It wouldn't be fair to you, Catherine, or to me. I couldn't make you happy, not while I'm thinking of someone else."

Catherine stood suddenly, then stepped back and glared at him, tears stinging her eyes. She had no intention of listening to anything else. "How can you do this to me?" She hurled furiously, launching the small printscreen at him.

"I'm truly sorry, Catherine," he said sincerely, making no attempt to dodge the small projectile that struck him on the arm and fell to the ground with a clattering thud. He understood her anger, had known all along that this would be her reaction, as much as he knew that in time, she would recover from her initial fury. Catherine was not usually an emotional person, but she didn't take bad news very well.

"Would you rather be married to me or someone who truly loves you?" Scott went on calmly. "Who loves you more than anything in the world?"

Catherine paused. "Who says I don't love you that way?"

"Your eyes have said it all along." Scott said frankly. "Come on, Catherine, you know we aren't right for each other, and you'll get over me because I'm not really the one for you, the right one who—makes your life complete. We never had that feeling, did we? You know I'm right, don't you?"

"I don't know anything of the kind."

"Admit it to yourself if not to me, because I know now it was never there, and I'm not afraid to face up to that fact anymore. Besides that, you know we've been drifting for a long time, even before I left for Charon, and things haven't gotten better even confined aboard ship. It would be wrong for us to marry under the circumstances."

"Nonsense," Catherine protested. "Who ever knows who 'the right one' is as you put it? I still loved you and waited all that time that you were away at the front." She said, shaking her head. "No—you're doing this because of _her_ , aren't you?" Catherine accused, her eyes widening, then laughed in a clipped manner. "She's not even _human_ , Scott!" She hurled in disgust. Scott recoiled slightly; as with most slight gestures, it passed unnoticed. "She's—a damned alien!"

Catherine did not know that nothing could prevent him from doing the right thing.

Scott had been lying to himself for years, thinking it for the best. Yet all the time he had felt like a man who had stood in fear over the edge of a great falls, gazing down upon the water far below.

When he thought Erin was dying, Scott's soul had at last taken a plunge headlong into his own fear.

"I don't care anymore, if she's an alien or not." Scott said, responding to the insult Catherine had thrown. He began to ramble, exploring his own soul, almost oblivious to Catherine's presence. " _She_ is as close to my heart and mind as any one has ever been—perhaps a being of another time and place, but certainly no stranger." He shook his head. "I simply love her. She understands me."

"Understands you?"

"I want to quit the struggle of pretending I don't love her." Scott explained. "I tried not to surrender. I was denying my true feelings, my buried, secret thoughts. The secret feelings were eating away at my peace of mind."

"Why didn't I see that, then?"

"Because I wouldn't let anyone see it. But my feelings had almost worn through that superficial composure we all show. You might even say I was smothering under it, Catherine. So you see, it doesn't matter to me if her body is alien; we are of the same mind and soul."

"Her people killed your family, Scott." Catherine reminded him, ignoring all he had said.

"Oh, no, I don't believe that anymore. But it doesn't matter, even if it is true. If I held a grudge against her people, I now relinquish it. My hatred for the aliens has dwindled these past few years, and even the discovery of her true self means nothing to me by way of impediment, Kate. I only hope to God that she still loves me after how I treated her—"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was a fool. I loved her for her mind and who she was on the inside, and I treated her terribly."

"Don't blame me for whatever you did." Catherine interjected, understanding that he must have said something to Erin once to put her off; Scott laughed.

"No, I'm not." He agreed. "I think I did it because I feared that Erin would eventually tire of me and forsake me if I began to love her. And because I was afraid to harm her with my vengeful obsessions, those obsessions you never understood."

"Oh yes, your obsessions." Catherine said dryly. "Obsessions aren't constructive, I always told you that. I always said they'd destroy you, if you let them. I always said they were wrong."

"Perhaps you were right." He admitted. "But I am no longer the same man."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're over them, even if I don't necessarily agree with you. When did you suddenly realize all this?"

"Not suddenly. I thought about it when we left the Earth behind. And when my obsessions against the aliens died, I realized my love for her was still there."

"You did?" Catherine said acerbically.

"Yes, the more so because I began to believe in her loyalty—she stayed true to me."

"I don't understand you when you talk romantically."

"No," he agreed, puzzled by her statement. He— _romantic_? He had never been accused of _that_ before. "But maybe when you understand what it is to love someone and not be able to live without that person, you'll see that you and I—"

"Stop," Catherine cut him off, shaking her head. "Don't say anything else." She looked away, then sighed bitterly. "Consider our engagement broken. I suppose you must really love her, if you still want her, knowing what she is," she added, with a hint of incredulity. "You haven't hurt me," she went on, lifting her chin, masking her pain. It was her pain, and she would not show it to him. Perhaps that had been her mistake all along, never sharing her life with him, she thought. "I hope she rejects you," she said softly. "Or that she is so unlike us, you can never be with her in any meaningful way physically."

"And I only hope in time you'll forgive me, Catherine. And though it might be hard, I could be celibate for the sake of being with her, Catherine."

"For a man like you, you must really love her, or else you're being dishonest to yourself."

* * * * *

"Is the message from Zhdanov, Knightwood, Dimitriev—or Mathieson?" Colonel Kansier asked, watching his bridge navigator, Lieutenant Erik Ross.

"Knightwood's transmitter, sir," Hans Rheinhardt said quickly, after a moderate silence. Kansier focused his attention on the image forming in the holo-monitor.

It had been seven weeks since he had made the announcement regarding Erin's alien ancestry, and there were still some who had not adjusted to the idea and would not speak to her and a rare few who despised her for it, though they made their feelings so well known that Erin had gone to speak to them and had succeeded in abating their hostility towards her. For the most part, the crew had accepted her transformation as openly as the many strange realities they had traversed since leaving their home world behind. Though Erin had learned her true name, Selerael, she insisted upon keeping the same name and rank she had always owned.

"Where are you, Knightwood?" Kansier wondered, at the same time wondering why Ross hadn't responded. Though recently Kansier had had reason to doubt his ability to perform his duty. Ross' concentration had diminished in the last two months, and Kansier, who knew his crew exceedingly well after such a prolonged study, suspected the discovery of Erin's true identity was the cause.

Selesta had come to another yellow-white star system surrounded by seven planets, two of them small and rocky, the outer five gas giants. Kansier had hoped that the surface of the second planet, around which the ship now orbited, might be the final destination of their journey. The bioscanners already reported that the planet teemed with life. But the absence of any appreciable land mass raised some doubt as to whether any intelligent life could have emerged there.

The strange greenish seas surrounded three small islands, one unconnected, and the others joined by a sheet of ice at the planet's northern pole. Kansier had watched the holomonitor for hours while the scout team shuttle departed for the surface. Waiting for the news was the most difficult part of the mission, as far as he was concerned. In moments of weakness when he allowed the anticipation to get to him, Kansier usually wished he was down there with them.

Erik Ross had been performing his duties mechanically until, hours after the initial launch of the exploration team shuttles, they had at last received a signal from the surface. Nevertheless, Erik's ears suddenly perked up to listen.

"Knightwood reporting in, sir." The scientist in the image said, standing inside one of the Earth shuttles.

"Proceed." Kansier responded.

"We've discovered an under-'water' city." Knightwood began frenetically. "Only those green seas are more than we thought. I'll explain—but first, we've got some incredible news to report. The city is inhabited by humanoid creatures! They met our shuttle when it touched down in the water. Erin 'spoke' to them to ask where they lived. The planet's called Nepheria, and the city Quei-lor. She's been translating for us—seems they think she's from this ancient Empire, from a planet called Seynorynael. And what's more, they're treating her like she's one of them." Knightwood laughed at the image in her wrist communicator of Kansier's confused expression.

"Now this next part explains the green seas," she swallowed. " _They_ are from Seynorynael!" she shouted triumphantly. "They were sent here by the intergalactic Council when it was a Federation that met on the planet of Seynorynael. The seas here supported a variety of aquatic life in a way unknown on any other world—the water is actually a kind of oxygenated nutrient fluid. Over the last thirty-three thousand years since the Seynorynaelians first came here, they've rapidly evolved beyond needing the breathing apparatus their ancestors wore."

"How is that possible?" Kansier demanded.

"Well, as far as I can tell, their skin has become nearly porous, and certain organs have faded or diminished." Knightwood replied. "They don't need to breathe, since their cells are oxygenated by diffusion, and they don't speak."

"Then how—"

"How can they tell us anything? Well it seems they're _completely_ telepathic, though Erin says they can only understand intentionally projected thoughts. They can't 'read minds' so to speak; they can only read thoughts. Or actually, they hear each other's thoughts, almost as though they can actually talk. And, they think in a dialect of Seynorynaelian."

"Seynorynaelian?"

"Yes, sir. Now we know why the aliens we've encountered thought we were from the Federation and the Empire. Remember how we couldn't decide which side _Selesta_ had come from? It turns out those two cultures were one and the same! But the Nepherians have never heard of any place called Orian. They only know that they haven't heard from the Empire in many generations, and they can no longer create a means of space travel. They were completely dependent upon the Empire ships to take them to other worlds. But that was long ago, and the Nepherians seem happy where they are."

"Where are you?" Kansier wondered; Knightwood was in the shuttle, but that could have been taken anywhere. "Is Mathieson still with you?"

"I'm speaking to you from their city— _we_ can't survive in their environment without our uniforms, but Erin can." Knightwood replied.

"How do you know?"

"Don't worry, Colonel, she's all right, but she insisted on seeing if she could." Knightwood reassured. "You see, she can't visit the remnants of the Seynorynaelian fleet that brought them here without removing her uniform—it won't allow her to submerge deep enough, and there's no other way of getting to the wreckage. Our shuttle can't make it. I was afraid for her at first myself, but it seems she can withstand the nutrient fluid, and the tremendous pressure down here—my uniform measured about fifteen atmospheres. If she can survive that, she might be able to withstand—"

"The vacuum of space," Kansier perceived, astounded. No human being could withstand space.

"Of course, only if she doesn't need to breathe to maintain her life systems." Knightwood amended. As to the possibility of that, no one yet knew. And all of this meant that Erin was different, more indestructible, than the Orians.

"And if as you maintained, her skin deflects all forms of violent radiation—gamma, ultraviolet, and so on," Kansier added. Space was dangerous not only because of the vacuum, but because it contained many lethal cosmic rays. However, Kansier realized it would no longer surprise him to discover that Erin could survive even exposure to those deadly rays. Erin's people seemed to have been perfectly suited to space exploration, to adapt to any environment. "Well, how long do you think you'll be down there?" he finally asked.

"Not much longer." Knightwood said, unable to calm the excitement in her voice. "The aliens seem to understand we're in some kind of hurry, and they don't really want to leave anymore. They're just disappointed that we don't know more about what happened to the Empire. Strange—" she tilted her head to the side, pondering. "None of the aliens we've met so far know what happened to it. It's as if all contact from it and evidence that it existed just vanished. Anyway, with any luck Erin will learn more about it. We'll get back as soon as we can, in case our old friends are still on our tail."

"All right then, thanks for the message, Knightwood." Kansier laughed at Knightwood's tireless zeal.

"Signing off." Knightwood smiled, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. The communication line broke, leaving him once again staring at the slow rotation of a greenish planet.

* * * * *

Erik found Nathalie and Erin in the Great Bay shortly after they returned from the planet Nepheria. The pair stopped abruptly as he approached.

Erin felt Nathalie stiffen at her side and watched as her face pulled into an expression of disinterest.

"Nathalie, do you mind giving us a moment alone?" Erik asked, and Nathalie shrugged.

"I'll see you later, Erin," she called, walking calmly to the far corridor. She was not one for showing her feelings to anyone, especially not Erik.

"Erin, I just want to tell you—it's taken me a while to realize that I don't care who you are. You know how I feel, how I've always felt about you." Erik swallowed, his face studiously blank. "I said it once before, back at the UESRC, but I can't keep holding on. Everyone knows about Cresson and Dimitriev breaking off their engagement. I've seen it coming for more than a year—Cresson spent all of her time with Dr. Ponterat in her laboratory and Dimitriev lives on the bridge—it was bound to happen sooner or later.

"I wanted to talk to you before he said anything to you. I don't hate him anymore—not after what he said about my brother Justin."

"He was Justin's best friend." Erin said. "I don't think he's ever forgiven himself that Justin died at Charon and he made it back."

Erik nodded. "I know. I guess I finally understand a lot of things—ever since Kusao died. And one thing I've decided is that I don't want to waste any more time. Who knows how long we'll be here, after all? We may never get back to Earth. There's no point trying to pretend this is just some mission—we have to build our lives here. I told you before that I love you, and now I'm asking if—if you'll marry me. Dear Erin, would you marry me?" He said with the same old feeling; of course, Erik had been relieved to hear Dr. Koslov insist that Erin wasn't lacking in any human essentials. And though she may have turned into an alien, Erin was still a lovely woman.

Erin almost said something, but surprise had robbed her of speech.

"Don't say anything now." Erik interjected. "Just promise me you'll think hard before you make a decision. And remember that I've always loved you first. I wouldn't have given you up for anyone."

"Erik," Erin said as he made to walk away. Erik stopped and turned around.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to say this to you, but I don't care for you in that way. The truth is that I've always loved Scott. My feelings for you are different. And I don't think we are right for each other.

"I think you love me, but I don't love you in return. I think that you love the wrong things about me."

"Erin, don't try to tell me that I don't know what I feel just to allay your guilty conscience." Erik bit out. What was this, another battle in which he had to defend his position? Was fighting all they knew anything about? Was attacking each other all they knew how to do? Why, he wondered, why couldn't she just accept what he felt and admit that they deserved to be happy?

"At last something you disapprove of!" Erin declared. "This is more like how you treated Nathalie. Oh, I'm sorry I said that—"

Erik stopped as though he'd been slapped.

"She told you? "Nathalie," Erik sighed, considering.

"She's never gotten over you, you know."

"Not Nathalie," Erik shook his head. "That girl is cold." He laughed lightly, instantly regretting the insult as he suddenly thought back to the days when he and Nathalie had first competed against each other at the UESRC. Back then, they had helped each other plan how to stay abreast of the competition at the UESRC, before they realized how much they had in common. Why was he remembering that, though? he wondered. What did Nathalie think of him? he couldn't help but wonder. How much had she really cared? Part of him didn't want to know, and the other couldn't help being interested.

_I can help you to understand_ , Erik heard a voice in his mind.

Before he could protest, he felt as though his mind were floating away from his body; he lost all sense of the world around him, his mind wrapped in a fog. When the fog cleared, he was no longer Erik Ross.

* * * * *

What could she tell him? It was too late to say anything now. She had put a brave face on her entire life. Why? It was not merely her nature; she put on a brave face because she refused to believe what anyone said about her. She always had. Her own father had never believed she was good enough, as good as her brother Sean; it didn't matter how many honors she received, she was never going to amount to anything in her father's eyes. So she stopped worrying about what he thought. She did as she pleased as a rule; she went to the UESRC to defy his expectations, but it was a hollow victory. Her father never came to visit her there; after a while, she stopped going home.

She thought she was invincible, but she had a habit of breaking off relationships before anyone could become close to her, before she could be hurt. She thought it didn't matter until she met Erik. She understood him, she knew, better than anyone could. He was a flirt like her, sometimes reckless and more loyal to his friends than to a girlfriend. They were so much alike that she knew that his act was all bullshit.

Unfortunately, that vulnerability beneath his bravado was what conquered her heart. Before her rational mind could prevent her from making the mistake of falling in love with him, she already had. She loved all of his little imperfections.

When their relationship deteriorated, she decided to escape unscathed. She denied what she felt and hardened her heart again, played the role of Nathalie the fearless, but she was fooling herself, and in time, she came to know it. The first time Erik looked at Erin with open admiration, oh how she came to know it. She loved him so much, she knew at last, and if she couldn't have him, complexities, imperfections and all, she didn't want anybody.

She remained loyal to Erin throughout it all, because she valued friendship and loyalty above all. How could anyone remain faithful in love if they did not continue to remain loyal to friendships when put to the test?

Suddenly Erik's consciousness was jolted back to his own body. He blinked, rubbed his sore head, swallowed hard in a throat that had gone bone dry.

"Erin," Erik croaked. "How long has Nathalie—" He broke off, blinking hard. _Nathalie_ , he thought. _Why didn't you ever say anything to me?_

He looked up at Erin, the young woman he had loved and still did, an alien creature whose telepathy had brought Nathalie's thoughts to him. In those short moments, he had seen more than just a glimpse into Nathalie's heart. How unfair it was to be made to see the truth! he thought bitterly. He felt as though Erin had lifted a veil from his eyes and was momentarily angry.

Why make me see? He wondered. He had known all along that Erin would never love him like he had wanted her to. He had denied any past feelings for Nathalie. "Erin—" he said, looking at her, for the first time sensing that she knew his thoughts.

"Forgive me, but—I've got to find her. I need to tell her I'm sorry. I can't care for her as I did you, but I do care as a friend."

"You'll find her in the second Maroon team lounge," Erin said, looking away.

Erik nodded, hesitating a moment, regarding her fondly, regarding the soft cascade of blond hair that fell past her shoulders. Once he had dreamed only of holding her, but that creature had been only an illusion.

* * * * *

Scott's feet crunched over the carpet of alien flowers as he made his way through the Seynorynaelian forest. Erin had been missing for two days while off-duty, somehow having been able to successfully deactivate her personal frequency, but he had a suspicion as to where she might have gone.

When he failed to locate her by calling up her frequency, he was drawn to the Seynorynaelian forest. Even with all of the people that visited it now that open access had been granted, strolling alone, picnicking and relaxing, there was enough room that she could easily lose herself there. Like the other members of the crew, Scott had fallen in love with the place and spent most of his free time walking its paths with his friends or by himself. They had never had anything like it on Earth, where the rural zones had been preserved and only a few small areas had been designated for human access.

Erin was sitting by the river at the far end of the forest when he found her. She turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. He had grown accustomed to the new coloring of her skin.

It had taken him months to realize that none of the events on Earth since the _Discovery's_ crashed landing were her fault—not the war, not the deaths of his family. She was as much a victim as he—all of her people were dead, even her own mother was gone.

"I was hoping you would come," she said, standing and smiling at him before her gaze returned to the river. "I heard about Catherine. Did she—"

"I hurt her, Erin," Scott admitted. "I only hope she can forgive me."

"But if she loves you—"

"No, I don't know." Scott shook his head. "Of course, Catherine seems sincere. Perhaps she is, but she doesn't understand love. She loves my appearance and thinks of me as a complement to herself and a man worthy of her great qualities by matching each with equal ability. She thinks of me first as an investment, an investment of her time, and a reward she imagines she deserves for that time and for happily being born with God's finest gifts to human beings—beauty, intellect, and other qualities, but she's also incapable of empathy or pity. She respects me, loves my physical appearance, and I do care for her, but I know we don't love each other, not in the way we ought to and with the depth of feeling which two people should who plan to spend their lives together for better reasons."

"No, I suppose not. You know what? I think she feels the same about it as you now."

"You do?"

"She came to see me a few days ago."

"And what did she say to you?"

"She said—she came to wish me luck." Erin paused, remembering Catherine's brave face. Erin had wondered if she would have been as gracious in Catherine's shoes. "But Scott—" Erin faltered, sensing what was on his mind, what had been on her own mind for some time. "I can't—in good faith—marry you."

"You can't?"

"I can't have children with you." She kept her gaze fixed steadily ahead.

Scott laughed inwardly. It was not her face that he cherished most, but her inner strength, her resolution. And that despite her abilities, she still refused to see so many things. "I don't care about any of that, Erin." He shook his head. "I love you."

"You haven't changed." She turned around, laughing. "So many of the others have—they act so polite around me. Some are afraid of me, or feel threatened by what I can do. But not you—"

"The Blue Stripes will never change." Scott reflected. "They know you and have done for years. Like your family, they'll always look out for you." He smiled. "Even Erik. No more talk."

Scott moved closer to Erin and helped her stand, then reached his hands around her waist. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a slight smile. He regarded her several long moments. Before Erin could stir out of his unexpected embrace, he leaned closer and kissed her.

Released from the burden of his conscience, he allowed himself to do what he had always wanted, what he had often fantasized about. He kissed her on her lips, softly at first, then more passionately, drawing in the scent of her skin, feeling her warm body in his arms, the curve of her back, the softness of her hair.

As they pulled away, he gazed at her unreservedly with quick bright eyes that had begun to imagine future happiness for the first time. Always solitary, always driven, every joy in his heart had been tempered by the losses he was forced to accept at a young age, by his duty to the Earth to carry on, for the memories of his loved ones.

It was a hard reality he had known since he was old enough to remember.

He had no intention of being alone anymore.

"Marry me, Erin."

"I will," Erin cried with a laugh he had never heard before. It was a welcome sound to his ears. Overcome by his own excitement, Scott suddenly picked her up and twirled her around in a circle, his soul mate. Setting her down, he embraced her again and for the first time surrendered himself completely to the love he had, taking such pleasure from her soft lips that he vowed never to waste another moment of his life fighting a union that fate itself had moved heaven and earth to bring about.

* * * * *

The wedding day was coming to an end. Everyone had wished them well, and then Scott clasped Erin's hands, and they ran through the stream of people throwing rice.

They walked together back to their new quarters, unable to keep themselves from laughing. Scott wore a mischievous expression as he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots. He unbuttoned his shirt, balled it up, and aimed it precisely at the corner, near the sterilization and clothes compartment. His pants didn't get the same treatment—he dropped them and they rested over his shoes while Erin sat on the sleep panel undoing the ties in her hair.

Then Scott's arms held hers from behind, turning her around.

He drank in the sight of her, the touch of her, wondering if she knew how much he adored her, how much he needed her. There was nothing more valuable in all the world to him than being with the woman he loved, adored, and respected, who loved, adored, and respected him every bit as much.

Later, while he slept, their arms and legs entwined around each other, she listened to his breath by her neck.

She woke up much later and looked to make sure that he was still there, and he was. But his shiny near-black hair was shot with grey, and he had lost some of its youthful vigor. His smile had not vanished, however, even as he dreamed of something far away from her.

She remembered the young man she had met all of those before in Central City. So determined, but always several years older than her—now Scott seemed far older. Her heart panicked again for a moment at the thought of losing him. Could she lose him, though? For she would always have the memories of him, of days they had spent together; their love was more than a passion, it was also a love of companionship. Their love was like a miracle to them both because of all the things around them, it was the one thing they could believe in, the one thing that never failed as long as they lived. Being around each other was as natural as breathing; even their arguments and mutual independence seemed to draw them closer; they respected one another even as they grew closer. Could it be possible for such a love to exist? she often wondered, thanking heaven that they were living proof that it could and that he thought so, too. But was this only a dream? A dream destined to end far too soon, a dream she would wake from one day when she had to face eternity alone?

Right now she didn't care; she was just happy to be living it.

### Chapter Sixteen

I call to Selerael, but she cannot hear me. I would share my memories, but she cannot reach them. She has accepted what she is, but not _who_ she is. Without you, Alessia, to train her to contact my computerized being, she must remain in the dark, isolated from the knowledge buried deep in her mind by the years in hypersleep on her journey to Kiel3.

Nevertheless it makes me glad to see that she is happy. Her wedding took place on the forest path by the lake that her father Eiron loved so much. Eiron—I often wonder how my own destiny would have been altered had he never come to _Selesta_ , but there is no point in discussing what cannot be changed. What is done cannot be undone.

I have not forgotten our mission, though I confess I cannot think what _I_ should do to achieve it now. Four years have passed since I departed from Kiel3, Earth, and I continue to take my human captives on the explorers' journey, hoping they might piece together the evidence left by Selerael's ancestors and prepare the crew for what they must become and what they must do. She will lead them—but when will the journey end? I didn't find the singularity on Kiel3, how can I destroy the Emperor Marankeil now?

The Earth humanoids continue to discover the wide universe and a little more of the mettle within themselves. Some of the crew that went to the planets Jepu-ra and Vikaris remained behind on those worlds. Lieutenant Nakashima and Minear had grown tired of space travel; I fear these creatures were not meant for such hardship as explorers must bear. Having found a great civilization of type L2hx humanoids similar to themselves, it is no wonder that they left, but that was some time ago.

_Selesta_ waited for weeks while the eminent Earthlings Knightwood and Zhdanov searched for a way to alter the Kiel3 genetic codes—the two "Earth" people had fallen in love on the surface of Jepu-ra. I see that your daughter had filled their mind with understanding of a new language and culture, but as you know, the Kiel3 humans could not find a way to alter their genetic structure enough to intermarry on alien worlds.

You will be disturbed by the news that in the end Selerael changed their genetic structure to make it possible. Is this not a sign that she wields the same power as you? Yet you thought she would never endure the metamorphosis. I fear that she has always been a child of the serum, a creature at one with Hinev's elixir and no human form as either you or I know it—she is as powerful as one of the explorers, but she never received a serum injection. But I do not really know. However, with the power Hinev's serum once unlocked in you, Alessia, she changed their subatomic structure, communicating with and rearranging the components of their physical bodies.

Do not become alarmed by this. You would not have protested, Alessia, for the Earthlings understood there would be no returning to the form of human being they had been once _Selesta_ departed; it was what they wanted—they were not forced to change against their wills.

When the ship left Vikaris only two years later, your daughter entreated the presence on the ship to allow three humans, by name Jens Bekker, Alethia Papanelopolous, and Aiyana Segura to remain behind. You can't imagine how I wish Selerael would communicate to me more often and form a mindlink, for I do hate to be left in such darkness! The few words and concepts I have grasped of the Kiel3 speech are more frustrating than enlightening.

On our journey, we have not only left humanoids behind. Selerael's friends once picked up a small group of type R32ak humanoid passengers, after Selerael's scout party stayed with them nine Kiel3 tendays. I sensed that those on board the ship worried for their safety if the _Enlil_ should appear, yet for a long time we had not received contact from Sargon's ship. I have heard nothing from him since the alien pilot's escape, but I know Sargon too well. He still has not quit his search, but I believe I have traveled too far for him to catch us, at least for now.

You will be proud to learn that she is as noble-hearted a creature as I considered you to be, Alessia. After nine weeks on the planetary surface, she brought a group that had faced persecution on their world. How these creatures amused me! They couldn't seem to believe they were going to live on board as grand a ship as _Selesta_ when they saw it.

You can probably perceive that they would have difficulties when another human and alien wished to become attached, for it seems love can grow between two people of any race who are alike in soul. Changing the human genes would only serve as a temporary solution, as you and I know. Nor will you be surprised to learn that after several months, Selerael helped the Earth creature Knightwood find the means of combining human and type R32ak alien genes artificially. You did the same, did you not, all of Hinev's explorers, so that newcomers could be absorbed into Seynorynaelian society?

The humans Knightwood and Zhdanov made attempts to learn what scraps of the Orian and Tiasennian languages Selerael remembers. The one called Knightwood even announced the birth of her second child to me, a boy child called Alastair, as though telling me the child's name would protect the child in some way.

Here I have wandered far from the news which I do not know how to break. Yet break it I must, for you will learn of it soon enough when Selerael and I return to you. Six Kiel3 years after I took the Earthlings from their home, Selerael proved once again that Hinev could be wrong: she had a child.

Selerael produced a human child, her only child in these many years. I do not know if you will ever happen to see him, this pale-skinned youth with fair hair so much like Eiron's. The child is however, almost a replica of his Earth father in form, so much that you might not recognize him as your grandchild. There is much of Selerael in his eyes, though they are dark, like the surface of a sea on the eve of a storm. Only the faintest blue aura surrounds him, undetectable by the humans. But as a young child, he could hear me.

They call him Adam, and he grew to maturity sooner than an Earth child—just like Selerael did when she was young. I can only suppose that there is a trace of Hinev's serum in him. Thankfully he began to age more slowly near the onset of adulthood, though by twenty-six Kiel3 years, he remained much the same as he had been at sixteen. He seems hardly ever to age. As yet, I cannot determine how much effect Hinev's serum will have upon him, if indeed he will undergo the metamorphosis.

If only you could have been here, Alessia, to see Adam's youth! I grow more attached to these Earth creatures day by day. The boy Adam was a rascal, as I suspect his father once must have been, for he knew exactly how to deal with him. Adam's enthusiasm for scientific study is only rivaled by his friends Elena and Alastair, children of Knightwood and Zhdanov, my most avid observers.

As for my intruder—the would-be experiment in folly, the creature whose identity I know as Faulkner? In his brief moments of mental clarity between relapses, this Earth scientist would often accompanied the boy Adam to the Seynorynaelian forest. I can only suppose that he remembers little of the time I kept him here. Strangely, Faulkner appeared to adore the child Adam for no reason I could understand.

Yet I fear Faulkner was still at times haunted by the strange visions he received in the Seynorynaelian forest, visions not entirely of my doing. He spent many long hours alone in the forest and in the holo-room. I fear he never did quite recover.

Years later, after having lived a tortured existence, the man once called Faulkner ended his own life. Having heard his intentions in her mind, Selerael tried to stop him but arrived too late. Faulkner went to the forest to die. There was nothing I could do to prevent him—I didn't realize until later how strange it is that I would have tried to stop him now. Selerael herself arrived after it was too late.

Young Adam had already taken Faulkner's body to the river to bury him there. Strangely enough, it seemed to me that the boy alone of all on board understood Faulkner. I watched as he laid the scientist's head gently on the forest floor among the fallen lyra leaves. Why did that sight move me so, Alessia?—yet should it have? Why should the short lives of such humans be any of my concern?

Their lives are indeed short. With time, the transition between the many cultural groups on board seems to be diminishing. The alien language is now being taught, along with two major Kiel3 languages. The children learn about their Earth from the holo-monitor and their parent's memories, but they do not really understand any other life than _Selesta_. Having no loyalty to the Earth, a few of them have already remained behind on other worlds, but others, unable to endure the wide open terrain of a planetary surface, refuse to even join the scout teams.

It grieves me to know that the generation I have watched since they left their Earth will never know the answers to the questions they have raised these many years. As time passes, they relinquish control of the ship to a younger generation who reflect their sentiments but can never really feel them.

Still no sign of the Orian threat has appeared since the day the alien pilot Iriken Zirnenka left, and though the young ones have trained to defend themselves as their parents did, they do not understand the danger. They do not understand the horror of the recent war.

Where is Sargon, I ask myself. And when is it that he will finally find us again?

* * * * *

Running steps sounded down the long corridor as Erin hurried to Colonel Kansier's room. Alastair Zhdanov's signal had finally come, though Erin was not ill-prepared for it. The crew had known for some time now that Colonel Kansier was dying. Scott Dimitriev stood by the Colonel's bedside when Erin arrived. The video-monitor around them had filled the room with a holographic representation of the night-time sky near Kent, England. Sixty-three years had passed since the _Selesta_ had left the Earth, and the Colonel had only recently celebrated his 112th birthday; he was still young by Earth standards, where the average life expectancy had approached two hundred years. It was clear that too many years of command had robbed Kansier of life's vigor. When illness had come, he had not the strength to fight it for long.

"Ahh, you're here," the young Zhdanov said as Erin arrived.

Kansier had married one of the alien arrivals on board, but his wife had died sixteen years before of an alien ailment.

"How's the Captain doing?" Erin asked, as Kansier lay breathing very quietly.

"The Captain is doing fine," Kansier said with a hint of his old sparkle, then coughed, slowly drawing himself up.

"Colonel," Scott protested. "You shouldn't be moving—"

"Yes yes," Kansier conceded. "I know that." He waved aside Scott's attempts at easing him back down. "There isn't anything you can do, son," he said quietly.

Scott stopped. There was nothing he could say to tell Kansier how much those words had affected him. "Sir—"

"There's something I have to tell Erin," Kansier said, meeting Scott's somber eyes with a steady, earnest gaze.

"I know you'll take command of _Selesta_ , Erin." Kansier managed, turning to Erin, feeling pain washing through him. "This was meant to be your ship, that I have long known. When I am gone, it will be."

"Kansier—"

"Perhaps you can discover the reasons why Earth was entangled in all of this." Kansier continued, now fighting. His lashes began to droop, and he succumbed to fatigue, leaning back on the bed. "Please grant me one favor," he coughed, trying to meet her eyes.

"A favor?" she echoed.

The same youthful face met his gaze, as if she had stepped from the past. No matter how much that didn't change, each time he saw her, that fact managed to surprise him, as much as he had grown used to being surprised. Yet while some might have felt moments of jealousy towards her, he harbored none. He would not want to be left alone among strangers with only memories, to have to rebuild a new life with every generation. He would not want to have to make so many farewells.

"Anything, Captain."

"Good," Kansier said. He knew he didn't have long; he felt comforted in no small way to believe that all they had done would be passed along to the future faithfully, that someone would remain to guide and protect the children of Earth on their long journey.

"Yes, sir—anything in my power," Erin whispered, holding back any outward sign of her own grief.

"Take care of the new generations as best you can—but also, she that they never forget the Earth we came from." Kansier sighed and leaned back against the pillow. "I would have liked to return to the Earth," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "How I miss her, the feel of her sun, the taste of her air..."

"The sound of the ocean waves," Scott said, when Kansier began to lose speech.

"Yes..." Kansier said.

Kansier's face lit into a smile as he was granted perfect memories of his boyhood home, his friends, his family... His recollections of the breathtaking waves that crashed against the high cliffs near the nautical academy where he had lived as a youth came back in full glory. He felt the spindrift on the rising wind and drank the sea air as the cool cloudy evening settled upon the land.

He disappeared during the thoughts, fading into the oblivion of death and beyond it, back into the tapestry of light, or what some call heaven.

### Chapter Seventeen

She clung to the body. Tears fell onto his serene still face, running down his cheeks over which she lingered, unable to let go.

_Good-bye, my love_ , she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't seem to. Beside her, Adam Dimitriev still clutched his father's hand, but no life remained in it.

Time was cruel now, passing so slowly in the moments since he had gone. She did not wish to let time win, but there was nothing she could do. Scott Dimitriev was gone.

Yet her memories of him lingered on, defying time, for now. She sighed, but without ease. His eyes were so still—closed forever, never to look upon her again.

She was sobbing now, hard.

Scott, the one whom she had always loved, ever since her early childhood on Earth, now so far away—Scott, the one with whom she had lived so many full years of precious memories—was gone. What would she do without him? Even though she had always known this moment would come, she had never wanted to believe it until now.

What lay ahead of her now? She did not want to know, if she had to face it all alone.

"I can't let go," she thought.

Scott's beloved, familiar voice played in her mind when a signal sounded at the door, and a medical officer appeared to take care of the body. She would never hear that voice again. Nevertheless, she felt she could almost hear him telling her not to fear, not to worry, that he would always be near her and part of her, but she did not know if that was his voice or her own. She knew he would have wanted her to remember the good things, not to cling to despair and grief. Her grief was selfish, she knew, but she didn't care.

The officer at the door said something, but Erin could not turn around. She had spent the last two months in this room, at her husband's side. Scott Dimitriev had grown weaker in his old age and finally died at the age of one hundred and eighty-seven.

With him vanished the last member of the Earth-born crew. She had already said good-bye to Zhdanov, Knightwood, Ho-ling, Nathalie, Erik, Einar, Hans, Nikolai—all of the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks and the bridge crew, and many of their children.

"Good-bye, my darling," Erin whispered at last, sensing that she had to pull herself together for Adam. Scott would have wanted it that way. But the pain welled within her chest so strongly that she felt her lungs had to fight for air. She wanted to go with him, wished to God she could. But she wasn't human—and never would be. She didn't know why fate had made her and what her destiny was to be. Whatever it was, she would have to find it alone.

With Scott Dimitriev, Erin Mathieson as she was, had also died.

* * * * *

Selerael stood in the doorway of the room where she had laid Scott to rest, where she would never rest beside him. Beside him lay the bodies of her old comrades, encased in some of the preservation capsules _Selesta_ specialist Alastair Knightwood-Zhdanov had devised.

_When this journey is over, I'll bring you home with me, my dear one_ , Selerael vowed. _If I can't return you to the Earth you loved, I swear we'll build a new home someday, where you can sleep forever, away from the stars, under the golden light of the sun_.

Suddenly Selerael felt a strong hand on her arm, and turned to her son. There was no expression on his face, though his teeth were clenched.

Quiet tears slid down Adam's strong young face as he hugged her tightly.

* * * * *

Only days after the funeral, Selerael was on her way to visit her son in the newly installed botanical museum when a message from the bridge interrupted her in one of the upper level corridors outside her quarters. Communications Specialist Serafin's voice boomed over the Earth intercom.

Selerael listened objectively. Since the funeral, she had been conscious of herself only as a shadow of what she had been, a living shadow that walked, breathed, and existed from one day to the next, that went through the usual monotonous motions of life because she had no other choice. When she heard her own heartbeat and the sound of her breath, she knew she was alive, but her voice, when she heard herself speak, seemed as though it belonged to a stranger.

Selerael was helpless, as all living creatures are, and for the first time in her life, she was aware of it. The questions, the silence, the chaos and bittersweet of existence had never hit her, and never before had she felt more helpless; she wasn't in the mood for any new tribulations, yet she understood that she couldn't dwell on her own unhappiness if that meant putting the lives of the crew at risk.

"Captain, the wormhole has brought us about six days from a white star system." Serafin said.

"Very good." Selerael managed.

"Yes, Captain, but the moment we emerged into real space, we began receiving multiple radio wave signals. Estimates show that the fourth planet in this system is the nexus of the waves—the primary producer and receiver."

"How far are we from the galactic center?" Selerael asked.

"Not far." Serafin replied. "The closest systems are only .3 and .7 light years from the nearest white star, but there are another twenty-one star systems within the next ten light-years."

"The ship has engaged its anti-radar," Radar specialist Chen's voice interrupted, "but our space radar has picked up three space vessels heading towards the white star's fourth planet from our direction."

"Ships?"

"Yes, sir. And we've located another group of nearby ships converging upon the planet from the fourth quadrant relative to our position. We request your course of action."

"All right—I'll be there in a moment," Selerael responded into her wrist communicator, patching her signal into the bridge.

"What do you want us to do until then?" Radar specialist Chen's voice echoed over the intercom. "You don't suppose this is _Selesta's_ final destination?" There was more than a little bit of hope buried in the question.

"No way of knowing," Selerael replied. "Just keep monitoring until I get there. I'll consider a scout team, once we've compiled all of the readings on the planet." Selerael said calmly.

* * * * *

_No sense being optimistic_ , Specialist Kuehn chastised himself. In the twenty-three years since he had been born, the Selesta had visited one hundred and three different planets, bringing the total count above four hundred. _Why should the hundred and fourth be any different?_ he asked himself.

The computerized presence named Ornenkai watching him unseen enjoyed a moment of mirth. _Why indeed should any fear the planet Goeur?_ it would have laughed if it could.

_Adam, come_ , it called in another section of the ship.

"Hmmm, think I'll wait a minute more," he said out loud to quell his fears. Adam Dimitriev waited for his mother to arrive in the botanical museum. But the voice urged him to join the others on the bridge.

_How strange_ , the voice thought, _this boy can do anything, can learn anything, and yet she doesn't want him to be in power_ ...

Adam looked about, as though someone had been calling to him. An unusual thought struck him almost involuntarily as he headed to the bridge. Why hadn't his mother ever asked him to take over a specialist's duties? he wondered. There was no resentment in the thought, however; while he had no ambition in advancing among the ranks his mother had created to establish an order for the crew positions, he could never see enough to satiate his desire for knowledge, and she never denied him a place in the scout teams.

If a scout party were formed to visit this new planet, he would without doubt accompany them. These jaunts to other terrestrial civilizations were one of the few pleasures he enjoyed in life. He had been a member of each such expedition in his one hundred and fifty-nine years.

"I am getting old," he thought to himself.

Strange that Adam wasn't ever afraid of dying during the expeditions. If this trip were to be his last opportunity, he did not care. He still fully intended to go. He was rather fearless in nature, but not foolhardy.

"No racing!" Adam called as the crew that he passed on his way to the bridge ran past him; they recognized Adam easily, for his appearance had not changed since his twentieth birthday. He did not know all of them, had not involved himself in many activities in recent years. "No running," someone called, and everyone slowed down.

More than half of the planets _Selesta_ had directed them to visit had been inhabited by intelligent creatures. Most had been bipedal, the majority humanoid. And with each world, the ship lost a few members of its crew, lured by terrestrial splendor. Adam's childhood friend, Justin Ross had died at the young age of sixty-one on one of the planets _Selesta_ had visited. Justin's sister, Erin Ross, had remained on Charnai2 years before. Selesta had taken aboard a total of sixty-three humanoid aliens from six different worlds.

Another planet could hardly be any different, Adam thought, although he had been wrong before.

"Adam!" a young woman called in a voice that passed for human from years of imitation. Adam turned around where Miralah, a young Kamian girl, raced to catch up with him in the corridor just outside the main nexus of the crew's quarters. Though also humanoid, all of the Kamians were of a dark, reddish-brown complexion like rich earth, with large, fiery mahogany eyes and thick, straight black hair that whirled with movement like a heavy cloud.

"Take me with you, Adam," the young woman begged.

"What would your grandfather say, Miralah?" Adam asked in his best avuncular tone, trying not to smile. The young Kamian girl had just passed the traditional rite of adulthood, and already she wanted to plunge headlong into trouble. She had always been able to find it before, only now there was no one to stop her from causing it.

"Come on, I've never been on the surface of a planet." Miralah said, dejected. "Not Sakar, not Corsavadh—"

"I understand, Miralah," Adam said. "If Urdahn agrees, then I'll see what I can do."

Miralah's bright dark eyes lit up with excitement.

"I'll just go ask him now. I'll hurry. Don't leave without me!" she called, her voice fading as she ran down the corridor towards her family's quarters.

Fourteen years had already passed since _Selesta_ stopped in the skies above Sakar5, and only the youngest generation of Sakarans and Kamians had grown under Earth customs. Only the youngest generation had learned to co-exist with each other.

Adam and the other explorers of the scout team had encountered the first group of Sakarans willing to return to Selesta on that exploration; Adam had since come to believe that they were a strange band, those Sakarans, but he could no longer imagine life without having them around—or for that matter, their former enemies, the Kamians, who had joined the ship after a stop near the Kamian capital nearly forty-four years prior to the Sakaran landing.

As odd as the Kamians seemed to the races already living on board the ship, the bipedal, four-limbed aliens of Sakar were by far the strangest group of non-humanoid bipeds the Earthlings had met thus far.

Very strange, indeed.

The Sakarans stood nine feet tall. Most of the crew heard them coming, and frequently the Sakarans made discontented noises whenever they forgot to mind the lower ceilings of the crew corridors. The Sakarans had thick but short tan "fur" and broad, flat noses; wearing the ancient Seynorynaelian uniforms was out of the question for them.

The Sakarans' wide-set pair of stereoscopic eyes were of one solid blue-green color, without pupils, irises, or whites, which proved useful in denying what they were actually looking at whenever it suited them; their ears had three small holes, two on the sides and one in the back of their head, which made them acute listeners, so that the rest of the crew was obliged to be more careful in their wording or lower their voices when they did not want something repeated.

Two ball and socket joints attached around a hinged joint in the Sakaran arms allowed them a range of movement unseen in humanoid evolution. Some of the Sakaran children did tricks for the other children; their strange physical movement delighted the others, and Adam had heard jealous exclamations lamenting that all creatures were not put-together with such interesting capacities and possible configurations.

Sakarans could even do handstands and walk on their hands.

The Sakaran eight-digit hands were surprisingly dexterous, but the vestigial toes had fused together to form the foot, making footwear unnecessary. Their long legs were powerfully muscled, allowing the Sakar creatures to jump great heights and distances, though they were poor runners, which didn't seem to matter much on board _Selesta_ , except when the children held races in the Seynorynaelian forest. On those occasions, the Sakaran children merely leapt to the tops of the trees or over the river, proving that being Sakaran had its advantages.

Despite their inhuman appearance, the Sakarans were highly intelligent, and Sakaran history dated back two hundred and fifty thousand years to the time of the Great Light, but nothing was known prior to that period, nor much about the earliest years of Sakaran life.

Recently, however, groups of colonists from the nearby Kamian Federation had come to Sakar, having exhausted their own resources. The population of Kamia and its colonies had grown so numerous that the land could no longer support them. Sakar, with its cool climate but vast, rich beauty and hospitable atmosphere had drawn them across the Gerdor Nebula on an eighty year journey, a journey to take the planet from the peaceful Sakarans.

However, Adam's friend Urdahn had disagreed with his Kamian people. He did not believe, as Kamian philosophy maintained, that they were superiors to every other form of life, that they had the right to take the lands of another. Urdahn had warned the Earth crew of the threat to Sakar ever since he joined them on _Selesta_ , forty-three Earth years before the Selesta reached the Sakaran system.

Urdahn hadn't betrayed his own people, but he was disgusted by their attitides of racial superiority against the Sakaran race.

"Good old Urdahn, I bet he's going to take some convincing for Miralah to be allowed to come." Adam thought.

Adam remembered when he had first met Urdahn. Adam had separated from the others in the scout party in the Kamian capital on the planet Kamia and found Urdahn near the Federation's Operations Center. A high official of the Kamian government, Urdahn had secretly opposed its position. His true sentiments had remained undetected for several years, but he had tired of playing the hypocrite. Urdahn had planned a confession, fully aware of what the consequences would have been. Exile would have been the kindest of all possible punishments, but Urdahn had been willing to face it. Yet Adam had intervened. He had followed the man to his dwelling and called to him, with the intent of inviting him to join _Selesta'_ s crew.

He had been as silent as a shadow.

The cloak wrapped around Adam's face and body had disguised him. The scout crews routinely used cloaks to escape detection. Thus Urdahn would not believe Adam's story at first, for Adam had spoken to him in his own language. Urdahn had demanded proof that Adam was a traveler from another world. However, Adam's uncovered face, his pale skin and blue eyes sufficed to convince the Kamian.

Adam, like his mother, was a telepath and had many of her powers, though he wasn't as strongly gifted as she.

Urdahn had never seen anyone like Adam. Ancient texts of his people had claimed that other humanoid species did exist in the universe, but Urdahn had never seen any one prove that to him first hand.

Urdahn had agreed to join the Earth crew, but reluctantly at first. When he arrived at _Selesta_ , he was struck by all of its wonders, in particular the Seynorynaelian forest. Though the crew had hopes of learning more about the ancient galactic Seynorynaelian Empire from Urdahn, Kamian history only mentioned three ancient, perhaps mythical dynasties before the period of upheaval—a dark time of war and disease: the Hanar or "high ones", the Lid-une or "second life" and ji-hugh-no or "the great that encompasses-all".

Most of the knowledge of the earlier days had died out in the millennia of civilization's decline. When Kamian culture had finally begun to progress again, clues of a former glory had surfaced, evidence that Kamians had once traveled beyond their own world. Using the traces of technology that they had found, the Kamians had then found nearby systems of similar and dissimilar humanoids still in relative stages of upheaval. Declaring themselves "the superior race" the Kamians had used their technology to found a Federation, with their own world at the center of the new learning and trade.

They were, in part, a bit like Seynorynael in their attitudes.

The way Urdahn had once described the arrangement sounded as though the Kamians had raped the resources of the other worlds. The planet Kamia had then sent Kamian colonists to take control of the other worlds' culture once the Kamian population flourished beyond Kamia's ability to sustain them. As he explained it, the superior Kamian population had not intention of checking itself, while other races were limited to only one offspring per pair.

Urdahn had hoped _Selesta_ could reach Sakar before the peaceful Sakarans were decimated, but by the time the ship arrived, only a handful of Sakaran natives remained hidden in the gigantic trees far from the old cities. The Kamians had butchered more than two billion Sakarans when they arrived.

Nearly the entire Sakaran race had been destroyed.

The Sakarans, though an intelligent race which had developed thriving population centers and created an untold number of scientific innovations, had never prepared themselves to defend their planet. Hunger or want had never existed on Sakar, and the Sakarans did not understand that someone might want to take their bounty from them.

_Selesta_ extended a welcome to the few thousand survivors of Sakar, but only a hundred and nine would agree to leave their home world. The others remained after Selesta's departure, subject to an unknown fate, perhaps to be hunted down one by one until none remained.

Adam had shed tears the day they left.

* * * * *

Specialist Darka, a young Sakaran "female", greeted Adam in something approaching English as he entered the bridge.

"Hi to you, too," Adam said, nodded, and then silently drew towards the discussion taking place in the large open area in front of the navigator's chair. His mother and the others were listening to Cameron Zhdanov, one of the scientists, an olive-skinned man with huge, bright brown eyes and curling hair the color of an oak tree. Cameron's well-formed face was as craggy as bark and age-worn, with wrinkles of a thousand laughs about his eyes; his raven black eyebrows arched like two feathered bird wings. His nose turned in a slight uptilt, though there was a small bend in it. Despite Cameron's years, his manner and gait remained energetic.

"I am here," Adam announced suddenly, interrupting the conversations. "Reporting for duty."

"Good," said Selerael, and the conversation resumed once more.

Adam's eye wandered to his mother's face, and he marveled again that she was not one of the Earth people. Even she did not know where exactly she had come from or where the _Selesta_ took them. And as long as her origins remained a mystery, that part of his own heritage was closed to him.

Her mother was Alessia, an alien, and it was assumed she was from Seynoryael. But Selerael's father remained unknown.

As a child, Faulkner had been the only companion to understand the pain of Adam's isolation. Even then Adam knew what his mother was, and that he would never be like her. The process of aging had slowed down immeasurably in him, and as his childhood friends grew and changed, Adam remained the same. He healed _quickly_ but felt pain; he could feel another's thoughts and speak to them but could not control matter by telekinesis, though he was ten times stronger than ordinary men. Adam hardly seemed to age, but he would grow old in time, and he would die.

He was no immortal.

What made things difficult was the younger crew's firm belief that his life was easier than theirs. Only Faulkner had known the truth. Adam was no power seeker, but he was also a loner, and lived a loner's life, which didn't make him trememendously happy.

Adam had never married. He had imagined himself in love long ago, but she—Erin Ross—had left him to stay on a planet they visited, and had no doubt died long ago. He did not like to think about her—if he ever met someone else, he would know. He had seen his mother's love for his father and knew that he had never known that before. It made him bitter, but he loved his mother most of all.

It had been easier to form ties when he was young, with those born around the same time as he and with the children of his mother's childhood friends. But in time, as they aged and their children and grandchildren had grown to his apparent age, the new generations began to regard him as they did his mother—they deferred to him as a leader, they were awed by his abilities and presence. They had forgotten that he was merely a human being.

_Or am I?_ he wondered, his gaze still fixed on his mother. He had not inherited her pale grey skin but his father's face, dark blue eyes, and fair human complexion. However, Adam had always had strange white-blond hair. And violet blood flowed in his veins.

Still, as difficult as his heritage had been, he loved his mother so very much.

"...and without a translation of the languages over the radio waves then we cannot assume that this planet is the center of the Empire we've been looking for ever since our ancestors left the Earth," Cameron Zhdanov continued. "The Seynorynaelian Empire, or what have you."

"Why would you think it was?" Selerael asked.

"Yes, well, I didn't, even though it is a rather advanced civilization, but this could be another Empire altogether which we have encountered here, as you might guess. At least, the people in the transmissions we've received are not speaking the same language as that Orian pilot we once contacted, nor are they speaking a dialect of your native language," Cameron Zhdanov gestured to Adam's mother, "which we had reason to believe was representative of ancient Seynorynaelian."

"By all accounts," Selerael nodded.

"If I remember it correctly," Cameron Zhdanov continued, scratching his forehead with his forefinger, "my grandfather's notes mention some translations you made for the Elphorans during your incarceration that had not originated in that area of space. I know it has been a long time—but if anyone could—do you by any chance remember any similarities between that language and these?"

Selerael shook her head. "I've never encountered these languages before, and as I've told you, without an active mind to provide information, I cannot determine any of the content."

"Negative," Computer Analyst Davis interjected, as if anticipating a question on his success at procuring a translation. "Now, if we could just access _Selesta's_ computers, then who knows?" he added and shrugged. The comment was intended to vent frustration rather than be taken as a suggestion for action.

The crew had long since accepted their limitations, the greatest being their inability to control or access all of the alien systems of _Selesta_. "This ship has a mind of its own," he muttered, reiterating a phrase that had become a popular lingo reserved for such occasions.

"Then it's settled." Cameron Zhdanov said, nodding. "The scout party will head down to the surface. Selerael will get her chance to figure out what the situation is like, and we'll see if we can pick up some supplies. And if we can believe the computer readings, we may find out what our ancestors meant when they said there's nothing better than "fresh air". Oh—Adam, again you creep up on me," he added suddenly, as Adam moved closer to Cameron Zhdanov with speed and silence.

"What are you planning?" Adam arched an eyebrow.

"Take a look first," Cameron explained, gesturing up at the holo-monitor. Several sequences of video transmissions played in the holo-field, recreating images of bleached ivory-skinned humanoids with grey-blue eyes and whitish hair in various hues.

"You'll fit right in," Cameron smiled impishly, and Adam laughed in spite of his previous dark mood. "The rest of us will be wearing a facsimile we've generated of the attire from that footage." Cameron continued. "It will cover our faces for the most part, but we'll have to keep our presence low-key."

"What about—" Adam stopped mid-sentence. A bright light had enveloped Selerael as she suddenly transformed. As the radiance diminished, Adam blinked. His mother had become one of the strange new aliens.

* * * * *

In the end, two shuttles headed for the surface.

Miralah had prevailed upon Urdahn and accompanied the team, badgering the group with questions, attaching herself to Adam, who had an excitable effect upon her. Cameron was almost beginning to regret that he had not joined Selerael, having originally insisted that Adam accompany his mother in the smaller shuttle. Cameron had reasoned that the two of them working together could be sure to scout out the most information. But Adam had disagreed. For safety reasons, he had elected to remain with the science party on the outskirts of the bustling commercial center near the landing site, in order to protect them.

"Cut our speed a bit, we're going too fast." Adam advised a second later. Miralah had quieted a little by the time they disembarked from the shuttle. Cameron had plotted a course on foot to bring them to the production facilities using their scanner readouts of the large city, but on the way they passed by a large agricultural farm.

Selerael was now heading alone into the heart of the largest city on the shuttle.

Her shuttle continued after dropping them off to the surface. It sped overhead into the busy city center, filled with a panoply of transport vehicles from at least fifteen different worlds.

Adam sensed her at all times. Meanwhile, in the rural area, he listened to the soft hum in the air around him, then looked down suddenly at the leaf that had blown across his face in the rising wind.

"Well, anything yet?" Cameron called to him, helping the others remove the portable scanning and extraction equipment. There were standing outside at the agricultural farm.

"Mother and I determined in the air that this is the control center of the galaxy," Adam stuttered, distracted. "There are loads of aliens's minds we could read once we got into orbit. This, like we learned, is the mother world of the Goeur Empire," he whispered. "And they don't take kindly to intruders. Cameron—there's—"

_Knach-ha jor kai shiell chorshe?!_ An unspoken voice rang in their thoughts. The team turned towards the sound of footsteps. Ten enforcer-type guards with upraised weapons stood facing them, the one that had addressed them slightly in front of the others.

"Shit!" Cameron said softly.

_Adam_ , Cameron thought, staring down the barrel of a short, bright-colored laser gun. _Whatever you're going to do, do it now._

* * * * *

The voices below called in silent appeal to her. Selerael tried to ignore them, guiding her shuttle through the air traffic. But a moment later she had turned the shuttle around and dipped low, skirting the roof of a gargantuan construction made of some kind of tinted, unbreakable plastic, a sprawling building wedged among a dozen others.

"Help us!" they called.

Selerael decided to land on a flat feature on the roof of a nearby building, avoiding the transport landing space so as not to draw attention to her presence. Leaving the shuttle, she looked for a way down to the ground level of the city, but there was none. Each building of the inner city had been connected underground, allowing above ground access only through the transport shuttle landing areas.

Selerael crawled over the roof towards the landing strip, but the drop approached something near a hundred feet to the plateau below.

"Please..." the sounds came again. Closing her eyes, Selerael concentrated on the atoms and subatomic particles in her body and the air between it and the ground. Then she leapt over the railing. Flooding the air with semi-sentient waves, she instructed the molecules to rush in around her and cushion her fall, slowly lowering her to the landing strip. The air pressed in around her, stifling her breath. In moments, her feet softly touched the surface.

Selerael opened her eyes to the entryway and waited for the doors to part.

* * * * *

_Ilach shie shilel ghera? Who enters without authorization?_ one of the operators asked another in the traffic tower high above the city.

_Did we not receive coding_? the other responded.

_No transport recognition in area. Searching_ —the other broke off. _Unauthorized landing reported in processing area. Entry detected. No coding. Send to center_.

* * * * *

_No response._ Adam heard the Goeur sentries speaking to each other. The creatures wore the same uniforms as those that Cameron's team had fabricated from the transmissions. The Earth team was wearing as close a replica of the aliens' suits as Cameron Zhdanov had been able to fabricate. It took Adam a moment to realize that the aliens meant no hostility towards the Earthlings, that the raised weapons were a precaution. The Earthlings' presence had only confused the sentries, who took them as a group of their own.

_What is your group doing here?_ they had asked and waited for someone to respond. They were looking directly at Adam, and had been fooled by his appearance.

_They're telepaths_ , Adam realized, swallowing nervously. He had never encountered other telepaths before. Any moment they were going to notice something wasn't right about the Earth team—unless he acted quickly.

_Authorization code: chorta ahn._ Adam transmitted his thoughts to the Goeur sentries slowly, scanning their minds for the appropriate words and codes, overriding their mental barriers yet hoping they had not noticed his mind presence. Unlike his, their telepathic ability seemed cursory, he learned with a measure of relief, without the ability to absorb memories and experiences.

_Making measurements for clear status. Interference will damage and slow our report. Continue patrol._ Adam held his breath, hoping his words had convinced the sentry to pass by and leave them undisturbed. He tried to establish himself as the leader by stepping forward. If the sentries attempted to contact the others, they would realize that the Earth impostors could not speak by telepathy, that they were not whom they appeared to be.

* * * * *

Selerael had traveled down the corridor to the right ten minutes before she encountered a humanoid being. To the left of the man, a large open doorway that had been left ajar provided a glimpse into the building's interior, a wide cavernous space filled with the intermittent sparks of industrial production—a sea of metal monoliths covered in ant-like human forms seated on gantries.

The man who had just stepped into the corridor appeared startled to see Selerael there but recognized her garb as a sentry. He tried to suppress questions and waited to be addressed. At the back of his mind, he tried to convince himself he had nothing to fear. Production had shown an increase. All systems were functioning well.

He shook his head, but the unsettling feeling in his mind didn't go away. Light fingers penetrated his surface thoughts and searched for his hidden memories.

* * * * *

Development covered the entire surface of the planet Goeur. The planet had been completely encased in construction—even the agricultural fields and arboretums that replenished the surface oxygen had been covered; the seas were encased and restricted, native animals were contained and reproduced through controlled cloning. The high winds that blew across the surface had intensified in recent years, but the population lived protected beneath the domes. The society was a rigid one.

The surface crust, far thicker than that of the Earth, had not known volcanism for a hundred thousand years and was entirely leveled by erosion, without mountains, canyons, or hills. Once long ago, life on Goeur had been more threatened by the erosion and windstorms that destroyed weaker vegetation and threatened even Goeur's strongest trees and plants, all broad, low specimens with deep fibrous roots surrounding a deep tap root, designed to extract water and cling to the topsoil. This much most Goeur people vaguely knew.

But the struggles of early history had been forgotten long ago, when a group of intruders arrived and helped the native population to tame the land and establish permanent dwellings. For many years, Goeur had lived in relative prosperity, and her technology had thrived. No one knew exactly why and when the intruders had left, but Goeur had been in the cradle of its civilization. After thousands of years, it had conquered its environment and gone to seek other worlds.

The Goeur Empire had been born more than twenty-five thousand Earth years before, about fifteen thousand Goeur years. In that time, the Emperors had gone out to conquer world after world. In their own generation, Emperor Naloch had taken his army to subjugate the planet Jimmu.

The Goeur Empire enjoyed a rich commercial trade. Thousands of visitors arrived each hour from the Empire worlds to bring supplies for processing in the Empire's mechanized center. The Goeur Emperor had imposed control on higher technology, limiting access to the knowledge of production to only its native population.

The Goeur Emperor was a harsh one. And he lived a better life than the people.

Nevertheless, thousands of wealthy citizens lived a luxurious life in the center of the Goeur cities, retired leaders in the army and the descendants of former dignitaries and leaders, while the greatest portion of the population worked in the production centers to produce the tiersche units. These units, the Empire's mobilized troop transport and integrated weapons systems, smaller and more agile than any Earth cruiser, traveled in sophisticated formations and were capable of sustaining up to .3 light speed contained together in a large field generated by the lead tiersche units.

Hirech himself had come from a small Goeur city, but as a reward for maximum production in his area and field, he had been transferred to the center to take charge of yurek generator production for the tiersche units.

As a Goeur native, he had learned to control his active thoughts and limit them to positive assessments and a single-mindedness that increased his efficiency. But in his private heart, he wished for a change. He did not completely understand the concept of personal freedom, but if he had known such a word it may have described his secret desire.

Freedom... was there such a thing?

He had been given clearance to take a partner after being promoted to the main city and returned each evening to his small dwelling with his partner Fierchan. At the production facility, however, she was only a worker. If she failed to produce high yields, he would have to report her inefficiency.

He and Fierchan had produced a male child, Khorda, who lived in an inculcation center. Khorda might be a lucky one, if he showed an aptitude for the army. Hirech had never before had any children. Because he was an original child and not a clone, he had been allowed to leave his birth city, he had been promoted, and his son Khorda might advance in the same way to the Goeur army and a higher life. But Hirech's many clones, some of whom had remained in Deerdan, his birth city, and some of the recent ones who worked under him, would live to their expiration in the production center.

It was their call and others like theirs that Selerael had heard.

She immediately felt that she could not permit their suffering to continue.

* * * * *

The sentry leader extended his hand, palm facing them. A moment of silence passed, and the aliens formed up to continue on their course, leaving the Earthlings alone in the corner before the entrance to the agricultural area.

"They don't suspect anything, do you think?" Miralah burst out, just as the sentries departed.

"I don't think so—not yet, anyway," Adam reassured her.

"But, let's hurry." Cameron said. "Who knows how long we've got before they discover our shuttle among the others and figure out that it's not one of theirs or from any one of their territories. If this isn't the ancient Empire all of the alien histories mention, then we may as well not take very long. I wouldn't want to get stuck here."

"Me, either," Miralah agreed, nodding, encircling Adam's arm with her own.

* * * * *

While Selerael stood facing Hirech, sentries surrounded them.

_You must accompany us_ , the leader said. Selerael listened to the thoughts beneath the surface of his mind that he had not transmitted to her. When her unauthorized presence had been detected in the high security production building, one of the traffic controllers had reported her to the central control tower. Her transport had been located but could not be identified.

"Uh-oh," Selerael thought.

Word had circulated in moments to the Emperor's Palace that they had been penetrated by an unidentified alien vessel. Certain that one of the alien worlds was planning an uprising and had sent a spy to the production area, the Emperor had demanded that the intruder be brought to him. He would discover their plot. He was the greatest telepath of their race.

That was how he had become Emperor, after all.

_Yes,_ Selerael said, and fell in behind the sentry unit. They regarded her coldly, but their behavior was not unusual. She was clearly one of them. If she were also a spy for another world, however, she would be punished accordingly. Selerael allowed them to lead her out of the production building, where she boarded an interior transport that took them through highways crowded with sentries and alien merchants and traders. From their minds she began to perceive the suffering of the subjugated worlds of the Empire. But she allowed herself to be taken to the Emperor, to learn how to free the people from his grasp.

* * * * *

Adam shuddered, stopping in the middle of the aisle between the fruit trees.

"Adam, what is it?" Pilot specialist Annika Droessler asked him, taking hold of his shoulder. One of the others, their good friend specialist Aleksei Kazankov, watched their interaction, an amused expression on his face.

"Nothing—" Adam waved Annika away but smiled. She sighed and mussed the top of his hair.

"I'm going to be a ball of nerves before we're out of here," she muttered.

"Adam, are you all right?" Miralah asked, coming up from behind. Annika was glad her uniform hid her smile; it was a wonder Adam could turn around without stepping on Miralah's toes.

Only Adam didn't answer.

_Mother—where are you going_? Adam asked.

"That's it—let's get out of here," Cameron announced. "Adam, are you coming?" he paused and looked towards Adam, who stood rooted to the ground, encircled by three of the others.

"My mother," he managed hoarsely.

"We'll meet her outside the city." Cameron said.

"No, we won't." Adam disagreed. "She's not there. She's gone into the interior," Adam shook his head and blinked tiredly, suddenly aware that he had given the others cause for concern.

"We'll find her. Now let's get out of here." Cameron insisted.

"You had me worried for a minute," Miralah informed Adam as they hurried away.

"I know how you feel," Adam said, wondering what had happened to his mother. Surely she hadn't been captured. No one could do that unless she wanted to be captured. What was she planning?

The team headed back to the transport and loaded the supplies they had taken. Ten minutes passed as they prepared to take off, and finally the engines whined and ignited. Then Cameron noticed the ground sentries. Two or three hundred of them had entered the transport landing strip and pointed at their shuttle. A dozen of them turned around and disappeared into the interior, moving at a rapid pace.

_Great_ , Cameron thought. _They've noticed us_. "Any communication from Selerael?" he asked.

"Negative." Annika replied.

"You won't be able to reach her," Adam interrupted. "They took her to the central tower. She's in the Emperor's Palace."

"Then we'll just have to hold our position a little longer. She may need someone to break her out of that place," Specialist Nikolai Brasnikov suggested in an emphatic tone.

"We'll stay as long as we can." Cameron said. _But that might not be long enough._

* * * * *

"This is some set-up," Selerael whistled. Selerael waited in the resplendent hall reserved for the Emperor's audiences. All around her, light filtered through the tinted canopy above, cascading on the gardens which surrounded the audience room on two sides. The sentries remained with her and searched her uniform for weapons before the Emperor arrived.

She had none that they could see.

A ruggedly attractive, middle-aged man appeared in the wide entryway, sheathed in thick, pale grey robes with blue and silver ornamentation. He made his way to the throne far ahead of her, avoiding eye contact until he had seated himself.

A messenger arrived and addressed him before he turned to her. Selerael listened from across the room. The sentries had detected another strange transport outside the city matching the smaller transport she had taken. It had taken off, and they had lost it among the hundreds of nearby transports but were keeping a look out for it.

"Your friends have left you then," the Emperor's orotund voice bellowed in the room. He had chosen to reserve his telepathy for her mental interrogation. "Approach," he said, intending to intimidate her.

She approached.

As he watched the creature that approached, his eye twitched, as though he sensed something of intrigue in her. She was one of them, he saw, but still unlike anyone he had ever seen. Her facial features were remarkably pleasant to look upon. He caught his breath, momentarily distracted from what must be done, how he must deal with her.

Now, his mindspeech found her. _Tell me—who is your leader and where are you from?_ A pressure accompanied his mindspeech and attempted to push her to reveal herself. The Emperor watched her face complacently.

_His telepathic powers are strong_ , Selerael thought. A moment passed as she fought off the pressure of his commands.

_What is this?_ The Emperor spread his hands helplessly, then squeezed the arms of his throne tightly and half-rose from his seat. _She blocks me! I cannot read her_! he realized in surprise. He pushed harder but found no signs of weakening in the woman's mental defenses.

His face betrayed that he was thunderstruck.

As the minutes passed, Selerael began to feel the rising particle wind envelop her. The strain of defending herself, though relatively slight, was enough of an effort to produce the haze of energy that animated her hair like living wires and lit her face and body in an aura of lambent radiation.

The Emperor blinked and reacted as though he'd been slapped. He redoubled his efforts to break her and stood, glaring at the intruder. _They will not escape my anger,_ he vowed.

Selerael felt her disguise slowly dissipating. In a moment, she would return to her natural form. She could not maintain the illusion if she continued to use her power.

_This cannot be_! the Emperor thought. _None are stronger than the Emperor_! Then his thoughts abruptly ceased. The woman before him stood bathed in an intense blue light that flashed brightly and then left her impossibly altered.

He found his breath caught in his throat and then began to cough uncontrollably.

The woman's skin had become a pale grey.

The shock lowered his defenses, left his mind open to her questions.

* * * * *

He remembered the day his father's tutor had told him about the ancient Seynorynaelian Empire. They had come in ancient history when the Goeur thought themselves doomed. The intruders had helped them to build better homes, to understand the environmental forces at work in the hopes of obtaining a balance between nature and their destructive manipulation of it.

The old legends told that their world had once been controlled by a grey-skinned people, a people of unsurpassed power. They could not be opposed, and it was not until thousands of years after their disappearance that the Goeur even dared to create their own civilization, in the fear that the grey ones might return to claim it.

* * * * *

The Emperor swallowed. "Who are you?" he asked aloud, trying to quell the instinctive fear rising in the back of his throat, fear he had never thought himself capable of feeling.

"I am from _Selesta_ , also known as _Discovery_ , a vessel that left the planet Earth many years ago." Selerael answered quietly in the main Goeur language. "We are passing through this area and sought only to collect supplies for our journey."

She had spoken his language, but the planet she mentioned was unknown to him.

He remembered her companions in the second shuttle. So, they had all come from another, larger cruiser? For supplies? Certainly not. They would not have gone to such effort unless they wanted—Of course! They wanted to take his Empire?!! Well, he would not let them! Their ancient Empire should be no match for his modern armada, or they would have attempted to reclaim Goeur years ago, he reasoned. Yes, it was true that he feared their mental powers. But that meant nothing, he told himself, tried to suppress his fear of their reputation. Fear accomplished nothing. He had no other choice but to act—he would not live under subjugation.

_Sentries_ , he called, and the swarm of aliens surrounded Selerael. _Take her to a holding cell._

Meanwhile, Selerael's gaze had wandered to the center of the courtyard in the adjacent gardens. A small tree grew there bathed in the light.

Like the ones in the Seynorynaelian forest.

The tree had glittering silvery-golden undersides that shone where the light fell upon the leaves, but the top of the leaves had become a mesh of pale green stirring in the wind. The silvery bark of the tree offset the olive and brown hues in the garden. Selerael heard a whisper from the direction of the garden path, but a sentry that had taken hold of her arm distracted her, obscuring the words.

She chose not to fight them. She had a plan.

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, the sentries stopped her before the holding cell.

_Sleep_ , her mind flooded the area with sentient waves. The sentries dropped to the floor in seconds, their subconscious now prey to _her_ suggestion. Selerael got away, left the sentries sleeping, and, after she had picked her way over the drowsing bodies, she hurried to find a way out of the city. The people of Goeur could only be free if the tiersche units were stopped.

* * * * *

Selerael's ship found the larger transport shuttle moments before it prepared to return to Selesta. Adam did not ask her how she had managed to return to them, but he was relieved to see her.

"There's no time to explain, that can wait til later." She had told him.

As the Earth shuttles sped away from the planet, it became clear that a large fleet of tiersche units were amassing near the Emperor's city. The swarm of craft were visible from the _Selesta's_ air space, nearly two hundred thousand miles away.

"Our Earth fighters can't withstand those units," Adam heard Cameron protest against his mother's request to engage the enemy as they entered the Great Bay. Her brief explanation about the conditions of the lower class Goeur citizens and the other territories' inhabitants had evinced their pity, but Cameron understood the crew's limitations. The Earth fighters were not equipped to handle a large scale assault force, nor were they as technologically advanced as the Goeur units.

"I know," Selerael thought as well. What could she do?

Selerael stood quietly a moment as a wave of frustration passed over her. She thought of all of her companions lost on alien worlds because of the inferiority of their Earth fighters. Despite her power and abilities, she had been able to do nothing to help them. One by one they had lost planes they could not salvage. But even when they could collect the metal fragments to build new ships, the lives that had been sacrificed could never be replaced.

Adam felt his mother's bitterness and turned to look at her, to offer his sympathy. But then he became aware of another spectator around them—an entity she knew and resented, an entity she attempted to ignore.

The presence that watched her had been moved to pity. Adam heard it call to her, but moments passed before she finally allowed herself to listen.

_Take the power of our world_. The words resolved in Selerael's mind. _It is the only force they fear. They will know it on sight. If you wish to free the people of this galaxy this much, then so be it. Revive the symbols of Seynorynael's emissaries. Wake the Valerian fighters_!

After a moment, an ominous rumble shook the Great Bay. Around the assembly of humans, a thousand bright lights erupted as the engines of the blue star's fighters stirred to life.

"Holy cremoly," said one of the Earth technicians in the Great Bay as the long-dormant alien space fighters came to life.

A face appeared from Selerael's past in her mind's eye, a man who held her in his lap and taught her to fly, long before she had ever made the journey to the planet called Earth. Grasping the bittersweet memory that had been returned to her, she turned suddenly to Cameron.

"We'll use the Valerian fighters." She said, her hollow voice echoing through the Great Bay. "The Goeur Emperor wouldn't believe that the Seynorynaelian Empire had returned. Maybe now he will."

"But it hasn't. How can we—" Cameron began to protest.

"Assemble the pilots." Selerael cut him off, and he turned away to make the announcement. "We'll make him think it has!"

Selerael closed her eyes and concentrated on the memory of her flight lesson, projecting the thoughts and feelings throughout the ship. Adam stopped, and felt the entire crew paralyzed as waves of foreign memories passed through them.

Slowly, the flight crews assembled in the Great Bay. Cameron and the others said nothing, observing Selerael's face to anticipate her next movement. Adam regarded his mother with admiration. Little by little she fought to regain the past, who she was, against the unreachable entity that had carried them across the galaxies against their will. And now the others stood poised to inherit the legacy of _Seynorynael's_ explorers.

The Earth crew rushed to the fighters at her command, some tentatively, others excited by the opportunity. The cockpits of a vanished civilization transformed the pilots in a way that a childhood on board _Selesta_ never had—all they had known before had been the doings and discoveries of their grandparents and great-grandparents. Now it was their turn to make history.

Now, subject to Selerael's telepathic commands, they knew how to fly the Valerian fighters, and fly them they would.

* * * * *

The Goeur Emperor was likely surprised by the return of the Empire's fighters to his planet.

For an eternity of an hour the Valerian fighters waged an arduous battle against the tiersche units. The other alien transport ships moved a respectable distance from the planet to allow the fleet room to maneuver and to watch the conflict but mostly to avoid being a part of it. The Goeur fleet surrounded _Selesta_ and fired upon her, using a gravity wave weapon that threatened to disrupt her electromagnetic shield. Then when the firing ceased, the shields deactivated briefly and a thousand Valerian fighters emerged from the Great Bay, decimating three tiersche units in their path.

The Valerian fighters were unmatchable. The only problem was that the Earth pilots were less capable in them than perhaps their original pilots had been.

The Goeur pilots hesitated as though they recognized the Valerian fighter planes converging upon them. They alone of the Imperial peoples would, coming from the hierarchy that inhabited the city centers, where ancient drawings and sculptures recreated the grey-skinned intruder's assault ships and the garrison that had been left to rule for thousands of years under a forgotten alien Empire.

Taught to fear nothing from childhood, except perhaps the ancient Empire of the grey-skins, many of the tiersche pilots panicked for the first time at the sight of the Valerian fighters. Their only fear, that this old alien Empire might reduce their status to something resembling the enslaved workers of their own race, seized control of them and disoriented them. Some tried to flee right away, weaving among their own units for protection and searching for an opening among the enemy planes to retreat to the planet below.

As a result, a few of the tiersche units collided into one another and exploded into silent space. Others waited unmoving, watching frozen as the enemy planes whizzed among them with impossible speed and agility, raining destructive fire among those who attacked.

An order from their Emperor revived them, and they formed an attack formation, a spear designed to divide and weaken an enemy. But the Valerian fighters employed their own strategy, converging upon the center of the spear from both sides, attacking the lead tiersche unit at the rear and incinerating those around him.

Twenty minutes into the battle, Selerael sensed that the remaining tiersche pilots wanted to surrender, but they held out nonetheless, believing the _Selesta_ 's purpose was to conquer them.

_Listen to me, people of the Goeur Empire,_ Selerael sent her thoughts to them across space.

We will spare your lives, if you agree to our conditions. From this moment on, the Goeur Empire is dissolved, and your people shall be free to live and work as they wish. The Empire territories will be free to trade in the Federation commercial center as sovereign nations. No longer will your tiersche units be permitted to seek out and conquer new civilizations. They will become an instrument of defense only, and its pilots merely citizens of Goeur, not its overlords. If you defy our directive, we will return to this world to control it, and then we will be less generous in our terms.

Selerael projected a false image conjured from her imagination, a recreation of estimates on the power of _Selesta's_ main battery—in her thoughts, a ray of anti-matter sheathed by a detached ring of pure gamma radiation struck the planet, neutralizing more than half of its mass instantly, incinerating the rest in the wash of radiation.

Minutes passed, and the tiersche units waited unmoving for a transmission from their Emperor. Finally a message reached Selesta's bridge. Unable to translate the words, the bridge Radar Specialist Chen directed the transmission to Selerael and Adam.

"He wants to know if he will remain in charge of this new Federation." Adam explained to the other pilots over the holo-fields in the Valerian fighters. The generated image of his mother appeared beside several of the others in his holo-field who were receiving his signal. For a moment, Adam marveled at the perfect quality of the hologram, that the images of those he spoke to could appear combined in the one field as tiny creatures that seemed real enough to touch.

"If we get rid of him, who's to say another won't attempt to become the next Emperor?" Pilot specialist Moore interrupted. "At least this guy has the credentials—the others will follow if he surrenders."

Selerael nodded. "You're right. I'll go to the surface to deliver our terms for his continued leadership. Meanwhile, the rest of you can return to the ship."

"You're going alone?" Adam asked.

"They can't be allowed to discover that we aren't representatives of the Seynorynaelian Empire. Don't worry." She added, "I can take care of myself."

"Why do I get the feeling you've got something else in mind?" He wondered aloud once the transmission signal had terminated.

_Because I know my mother_ , he laughed to himself.

* * * * *

Selerael returned two days later, flying escort to a small flotilla of simple cargo ships. Adam waited for her in the Great Bay. Selerael disembarked from the fighter, moved to the first of the ships that had accompanied her, and waited outside the outer hatch.

"What's going on?" Adam followed her. _You didn't, mother._ He sighed and watched her affectionately.

Selerael smiled at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

You brought all of them?

All of the ones who could no longer bear to remain on Goeur.

"What's all of this?" Cameron Zhdanov asked, having rushed across the Great Bay to meet them. His scientific team was still busy trying to figure out all of the functions in one of the Valerian fighters that they had rigged with wires and sensors; Cameron's old colleague, Kjetil Thorsen, took over in Cameron's absence.

The hatch opened, and a group of wide-eyed Goeur workers moved forward into the light of the Great Bay, stepping tentatively from the shuttle as Selerael extended her hand to help them one by one.

"They wanted our protection," Selerael answered. "I met with the Emperor for several hours to establish the guidelines for his new Federation, that he should stand for re-election in two tidat—about seven months by the Earth calendar. By that time he has to have convinced the population that his leadership is in their best interest. We discussed legal guidelines for his Federation, the establishment of a free trade center, and then I met with representatives from the other territories already on Goeur—"

"What's to stop them from reverting to their former ways?" Cameron asked, skeptical.

"She encoded a subconscious pain center into their minds." Adam answered, with a glow of one privy to conspiracy. "If they fail to fulfill their promises for action, unconsciously or deliberately, the pain center will overwhelm them until they amend their behavior and fix the damage. My guess is that all of the potential leaders were similarly encoded—without their knowledge of course." He looked to his mother for confirmation, and she winked at him.

"And I paid a visit to the larger tiersche centers." Selerael continued, turning back to Cameron. "We broadcast a signal across the planet liberating them—production levels will fall considerably, but there are plenty of units left to ensure the planet's proper defense."

"What about these people?" Cameron asked, gesturing towards the assembly growing larger by the moment.

"Some of the Goeur people didn't believe that the Empire could be dismantled. These are four thousand of the workers that suffered the most under the Goeur directive. There are also thirteen thousand prisoners and territorial slaves from Goeur here in the last two ships. I promised them that they could come with us."

Cameron Zhdanov's mouth dropped open. "That will nearly double the present crew," he protested. "How can you tell what problems will arise from bringing these people aboard?" he asked. "Can the ship even support forty thousand?"

Adam eyed the other world aliens that disembarked from the second and third ships. An assembly of tan-skinned, amber eyed humanoids, and pale skinned, dark-haired humanoids with amethyst eyes began to fill the Great Bay. But the final ship caught his attention. The passengers that disembarked were human as he knew them, with varying skin tones from pale pink to dark brown. He did not recognize their raiment or the scraps of language he heard as one of them passed near him. But they looked more like an Earthling than he.

"There are supplies in each of the ships," Selerael continued, answering Cameron's question. "Enough to last until we augment the present hydrogardens for increased vegetable stores. And we have a few of the alien variety in those canisters. They'll need to be taken through decontamination and housed separately in case they affect any of our plant strains. We can experiment by putting a few together later. But to answer your question, there should be enough food and medical supplies to sustain everyone.

"Some of these people are highly skilled in industrial production, agriculture, the manufacture of chemicals, textiles, metallic alloys, consumer products and luxury items—they may even prove useful to us. And they're willing to learn our language and culture. You know, they were never considered Goeur citizens. You can't wonder why they have no love for their society—a society that didn't value them as human beings. But their technology surpasses that of Earth—their chemical engineers may even teach you a thing or two, Cameron."

"You have to admit that aliens have assimilated themselves among us already—" Adam added, fully aware in the moment he spoke that only his mother knew what it truly was to be any from the Earth, and she was an alien!

"Yes, we understand the point, Adam. But will the crew object?" Cameron Zhdanov wondered.

"I hope not," Adam laughed.

### Chapter Eighteen

_The_ Selesta _must have stopped only briefly_ , Sargon was at last beginning to believe it. He had traveled to the surface of a yellow-star world in search of the scout team that his ship had detected from outside the system. By the time _Enlil_ had noticed the shuttle's presence, it must have gone and returned. There was no sign of _Selesta_ , but he had assumed the ship's anti-detection shields were holding.

_They must have already found the wormhole_ , he thought to himself, mulling thoughtfully over a mug of what the locals in this settlement called _suargh_. After taking pains to disguise himself and throwing on some old rags to resemble garb worn in an early civilization, he had arrived too late.

It had been too easy for them this time.

The humanoids of the planet Balear had not yet invented a telescope with which to observe the stars, much less any means of detecting the approach of an alien spaceship.

Sargon sat a while longer in the country of Balka's equivalent of a tavern. The human creatures of this planet reminded him of the creatures of Kiel3, though they stood a bit shorter, had a wider forehead, and a smaller chin. Still, they had taken no special notice of him, and he was content to sit and absorb the simplicity of their lives.

Gradually he became aware of an argument taking place near him. He turned his head towards the noise and spied a large man standing aggressively over another man, brandishing a fist. Sargon concentrated on the brainwaves saturating the air and absorbed an elementary understanding of the language and history of Balka before turning his attention back to the argument.

The larger man had no grievance—he did not like the other man's looks and demeanor. He had lost fifty finari that morning in a game and sought an object upon which to vent his frustration. The weaker man who sought refreshment after a long journey from the countryside would put up little resistance.

Sargon felt the blow that struck the smaller man across the cheek, knocking him from his chair. The larger man began to laugh and bellow insults in a deep, throaty voice. Then the smaller man thought of his family and of the delivery of foods he had to make to the man who owned their parcel of land. If he did not make the delivery by that evening, his family would lose their home.

Stopping in the tavern, he had hoped only for a simple meal to sustain him after two long days of travel. He had no energy to fight. And if the larger man struck him again, he was not sure he would be able to rise.

The larger man reached a hand out and grabbed the front of the smaller man's shirt, raising a meaty fist to his face. He let out a gleeful laugh, enjoying the smaller man's torment as he cringed and feebly attempted to pull himself away.

Sargon eyed the small man.

From the depths of Sargon's being, where the oldest core of his former self remained, he felt a wave of indignant fury rising. He sent a quick flash of controlling sentient waves at the larger man's fist, suspending it there when the man would have chosen to strike. The larger man let go of the smaller man in confusion, pulling at his fist with his other hand, but it remained stuck in mid-air.

Sargon stood and pushed away his chair, walking slowly and smoothly towards the large man, hardly seeming to move. Like a predator, he approached him, but the stultifying power of his mind was Sargon's weapon of choice. Sargon stopped a few feet short of the man, unnoticed in the crowd of awed spectators that had gathered around the struggling monolith.

_Pain_ , Sargon thought calmly, but the force of the waves that struck the man grounded him, sending him writhing in a paroxysm across the floor.

_There, you beast, get what you deserve,_ Sargon thought, making sure it took great effect upon the bully.

Sargon had no desire to observe the man's suffering. He now despised such spectatorship. But he was sure that the small man would now be all right.

Sargon left the tavern quietly and traveled on foot down the dirt and stone road, watching the bustling city activity, the merchants displaying their wares and shouting in the open marketplace of the town center, beggar children wandering around, laborers engaged in hauling fordhth rocks for fuel into large woven carts.

As he continued down the road, a light snow began to fall. A large, cold snowflake made it through the heat of the infrared aura that surrounded him, melting and shrinking before landing on his cheek. Sargon looked up in surprise and raised his hands, catching a few flakes on his palms with the speed of his movement, before the snow had a chance to be melted by the energy that surrounded him.

Snow—how he had loved to play in the snow, long ago on the planet Tiasenne, twin world of Orian. His mother and father had taken him out into the snow every year until his ninth birthday, and then Alessia—

She had taught him to make his first snow angel. She had also taught him how to aim a snowball at a passing sentry outside Orashean's Headquarters Building.

* * * * *

What could it all mean? Cameron Zhdanov couldn't seem to find an answer, no matter how hard he looked for one.

One thing was clear: most of the histories of the aliens who had joined the crew spoke of an ancient Empire that had once controlled this galaxy; at the same time, their legends spoke of an ancient race that had once been their ancestors or had once been connected to their ancestors.

Cameron Zhdanov, as chief among the Earth people asking questions, enquired whether or not the aliens knew if their races had all been colonists from another world, the world of the ancient race. Perhaps all of the humanoids had once, long ago, come from a single home world. Perhaps this Seynorynaelian Empire had once brought them to each of their second home planets from another world or galaxy and had returned at some point in time to organize their brother races.

Could there really be a connection between this Seynorynael and the ancient race of so many legends?

Cameron had a difficult time accepting the fact that on almost half of the inhabited planets they had encountered, Selesta found a humanoid form of life not very far removed from their own. The odds of such convergence occurring naturally were astronomical, out of the question. For him, solving the puzzle necessitated unearthing a small piece of evidence to confirm his own suspicions—that some intellect was responsible for the transport of humans across the galaxy.

There could be no other explanation.

Contact with the Goeur Empire and its human slave trade and the discovery of new histories documenting the existence of an earlier galactic Empire of yet another culture made him consider the possibility that mass scale colonization of some early group of humanoids and other living species had occurred in the far distant past, as though there had once been some kind of space-going ark, loaded with humanoids and pairs of plants and animals—or an ark for each inhabitable planet.

However, though their knowledge of history was rudimentary, the aliens claimed that their peoples had already been living an independent existence when representatives from an advanced race arrived. Independent?! But the Goeur humanoids couldn't have evolved on their own! At least, that was that Cameron wanted, needed to believe. The Goeur claimed that almost immediately after being contacted by this advanced race, they had found themselves constituents of an Empire that lasted many generations. Then there had been a brief, sudden period of confusion when all contact with the Empire was lost. Years later, the Goeur had emerged to take its place.

Would he have been able to find proof connecting his two groups of galactic conquerors there, if only _Selesta_ had waited?

He would never know, damn it all.

During the subsequent scientific discussions, Cameron had suggested to the others that the Seynorynaelian Empire might have been just one Empire in a long succession, similar to the Goeur, that had expanded to conquer new systems in its period of dominance. Cameron's real concern lay in the fact that nothing explained, or rather _proved_ , where the humanoids had originally come from and why there were so many humanoid races in the galaxies they had visited.

However, on Goeur, there seemed to have been little evidence of two distinct advanced races, only the one. But if the former Goeur territories had enjoyed an independent history long enough to obscure their earliest origins, Cameron argued, then they would not remember if a previous race or Empire had brought them to their new homes.

However, the aliens found on Goeur, some who had been taken from other, still further planets, protested against his attempt to make them colonists of some other race. Their histories were very clear on the one point—they had developed on their own. Their distinctive cultures, languages, and philosophies could not have descended from one or even a small number of racial groups. They had no wish to see that they might all be brother races. Even their scientists held on to the belief that the coincidences in body structure could be explained away by genetic engineering at some later point in time.

Cameron was irritated that he couldn't solve all of the mysteries.

How had the humanoid form appeared on so many worlds? Cameron began to wonder if he were the only person still interested in unraveling the mystery. But it was Selerael who posited the answer to him.

"I think—perhaps Enor created the different human races." She said absently at the end of one of their scientific debates as he left, again capturing his eyes. The others had already passed out into the corridor, but Cameron sat back down.

_Enor_??

"Enor? What makes you think so?" He asked. The crew knew very little about the mythical race that had possibly re-created the lom-vaia people.

"I don't know, exactly." Selerael replied. "I don't have any proof, just a gut feeling. I don't know why, but I have often wondered about the Enor. Do you suppose they were a good people, to have made the lom-vaia more like themselves?"

"Good? Well, I don't know—probably just tampering with Mother Nature, as we have done ourselves, without considering the consequences." Cameron replied, wondering why he hadn't ever thought about it.

"Perhaps when they traveled across the universe, they found no humans at all. Maybe they cloned themselves and altered their form as it needed to survive the various conditions on a myriad of planets—perhaps to live there themselves, perhaps merely so that they wouldn't feel alone in the universe any more."

Then she laughed.

"What is it you find amusing?" Cameron Zhdanov asked, wondering if she were now retracting her hypothesis now that he was warming to it.

"I was just thinking that the whole humanoid experiment _would_ make sense if the Enor were merely lonely and wanted there to be other creatures like them." She replied sadly and sighed.

"Hmmm."

"But for whatever reason they might have chosen to do it—could they be your answer, Cameron? Isn't it possible that they're this great "guiding force" you're looking for? This ancient advanced race most of its descendants don't seem to remember? If so, then no more massive galactic convergence. If so, you can get a good night's sleep for a change, my friend."

Cameron mulled her suggestions over in silence and nodded.

"You may be right. I'll have to give this some more thought, though."

But then one question remained, Cameron realized.

Just who were the _Enor_ and where had _they_ gone?

* * * * *

"What in God's name is that thing!?" Cameron wondered, watching the recon team from _Selesta's_ holo-monitor. Selesta had fired her reverse thrusters to slow to a stationary position; they were waiting for the Valerian fighters to finish a recon sweep by the strange object just off _Selesta's_ flight path, an object radar had reported sitting dead in space. Selesta seemed to have encountered the object by accident, having suddenly veered off its flight path to avoid a newly formed star on _Selesta's_ course.

Thirty-six years had passed since the Goeur expansion; they had jumped outside an elliptical and spiral class galaxy group only a few months back.

"It's a spacecraft!" Adam exclaimed over the net, directing the recon. "No life readings aboard." He added a moment later, his voice steady.

"A spacecraft!" Cameron repeated, glowing with an anxiety of two opposing natures.

* * * * *

After a brief meeting to discuss further action, Selerael offered to clear the Great Bay and investigate the strange craft. Despite hopes that someone on board might be able to identify the vessel, none of the original Goeur crew or living Kamians and Sakarans recognized the relays of the small craft. After a few objections against bringing it on board, Cameron reminded the others that Selesta's air lock would decontaminate the craft, even if there were harmful microbes on board. And if an unknown threat surfaced, Selerael had promised to deal with it before it could cause any harm to the rest of the ship.

Many of the scientists still objected, however, until Alloys Specialist Nikari-mai contacted the meeting from his on-board production center and expressed an interest in salvaging the alien alloys. Moments later, other scientists who had been monitoring the debate but hadn't been able to join the meeting themselves relayed similar feelings, until gradually, the scientists and alien representatives who were present began to warm to the idea of bringing in the craft for further investigation.

Perhaps it couldn't hurt to investigate it.

A large space was cleared in the eleventh cargo bay to house the small spaceship and allow it to land. _Selesta_ approached the object slowly, until it was within workable range; using her telekinetic abilities, Selerael guided the vessel into the Great Bay air lock chamber between the inner and outer hull of the ship while all across _Selesta_ , the crew watched holographic recreations of the scene unfolding in the cargo bay, where more than a thousand willing crew scientists waited for their opportunity to examine the alien vessel.

Though no life readings had registered on their bio-activity scanners, Selerael ordered that the tiny ship remain in the air lock where it had undergone decontamination. Venturing out to the ship alone, she closed her eyes and searched for breaks in the atoms of the hull until she had found the entrance.

She sent a current of cooperative brain telekinetic waves to the molecules of the small ship's air lock pressure door. In response, the door opened and allowed her through a series of decontamination compartments before she entered a larger area inside. Selerael held up an analyzer to get a reading on the atmosphere inside the alien ship. The air pressure inside read within the range of medium elevation terrestrial air pressure, with a barely perceptible decreased ratio of carbon dioxide and nitrogen to oxygen.

After a moment, her eyes began to adjust to the pitch black.

"It's so dark," she said. Her aura intensified, creating light to cast a beacon about her and guide her thought an aphotic realm of corridors. Her analyzer guided her right and then left again to what appeared to be the largest open area of the ship. She waited behind the door for a moment, but found no automated entry trigger. Using her mindwaves, she pried the door apart.

A hiss of vapors rushed into the corridor behind her, blowing across her face in a gust of warm but crisp air, crinkling her nose with the slightly acidic smell.

"Pee-yew." She exclaimed.

The life monitors remained stable in the negative range, but Selerael sensed the presence of hundreds of sentient beings before her. She stepped cautiously forward and cast an illumination beacon into the cavern, but the room was already bright enough to see. Illuminated panels covered the black metallic walls and swept across the floor, colors dancing in sequences that mesmerized her. Huge metal squares two meters long and wide rose from the floor in an even checkerboard pattern, separated by only narrow lanes a foot wide cut deep into the base.

Selerael sensed the life support that fed the aliens in front of her slowly fading. In another thousand years, it would be extinguished, terminating the lives of the creatures that had slept undisturbed in their long journey across space.

_Wake_ , she called to them.

A loud echoing hum sounded beneath the floor. She heard a depressurizing sound, just as some force released the metallic casings before her. The casings retracted and slipped into the hollows between the squares, releasing more vapors that obscured her view of the awakening.

By the time the mist cleared, she could descry a group of biped creatures emerging from the containers that had held them.

Forty-two surviving humanoids stood and crawled their way out of the deep suspension suspended animation canisters. They blinked at the intrusion of light coming from the open doorway where Selerael waited and stopped, staring at her with keen, unwavering gazes.

Selerael studied the man closest to her, a pale man with skin grey as stone and a shimmer of silvery-green eyes.

The man cast her a strange look of passive acceptance as he felt her mind reach out to him and pick over his surface thoughts, to find the hidden secrets buried within.

* * * * *

His memory had dimmed in the long hyper-sleep, but he remembered the commotion as they neared the final moment, a point predicted a billion years before his time. What chaos it had been! What a panic! Despite the fact that he and the others had been born knowing they would live to see the end.

They had prepared long years for that moment, and yet there was no guarantee that their people could escape the Great Collapse. The crucial test would be the last. They would only know that they had escaped if they still lived, if they ever awoke again.

The fleet of a billion ships departed each of their inhabited worlds, no one course the same, each ship equipped with a singularity made of exotic matter, a singularity that allowed the ships to vault through the dimensional barrier between universes and time, each ship set on a course without hope of survival, to defy the end of the Great Collapse and escape the death of their universe.

Each ship had launched itself towards a different universe through the portals of time—perhaps one in a thousand neighboring universes viable to their form of matter. The bulk of the great fleet, the last of their civilization, would perish, annihilated by the hostile space-time of other universes, anti-matter, and the smallest miscalculation of their course. It would be a miracle if any of them, even one out trillions, survived.

Once outside their own universe, the computers would take care of them until forward time returned, and they could travel once again into the realms of existence and matter they had known.

Then if by some chance they had succeeded in the escape of their own universe, the re-entry into the new universe would again reset the narrow odds of survival; of all those who had survived thus far, fewer still would make the journey successfully into hostile regions, or into the regions of newly formed matter formed from the death of their own ancestral home.

They had only known of the dangers, but would have no idea how their luck had saved them, no idea that they had been saved until they woke.

Yet in their dreams, while they slept undisturbed by time, horrible visions had come to haunt them, visions which would always haunt them, even when they woke, even when unnatural time robbed them of their memories, as it was certain to do. He longed for that. Yes, take his memories! Oblivion could not come too soon. How he remembered and did not want to remember those horrible visions! The man had thought he would see nothing, feel nothing, nothing throughout their eternal sleep, but instead they had suffered unending torment, a punishment for those who had been fated to die with their universe, who had escaped their natural fate.

Oh yes, there had been torment! The nightmares—they were coming for him. He remembered them now, they were coming. Nightmares in which he had known such torturous pain, pain all of his senses told him had been real—that no painkiller could clear away from his mind and body even as he slept.

Selerael pulled her mind away abruptly. She found herself shivering; she was not cold. Quickly she recomposed herself, then contacted the thought-activated computer and asked for an approximation of the time passed since the journey began. A mental calculation into Earth equivalent put the time elapsed since re-entry at more than _seventeen billion years_! a figure she never could have known if she hadn't read the aliens' minds. Moreover, the computer had been unable to measure time until forward time passed in the new exploding universe.

These aliens had been drifting in space for seventeen billion years! From what she had understood, it had survived a Big Bang of their universe by leaving their universe for another that was only just born.

The computer reported that it had undergone damage in the impact of forward time, that it had lost its navigation and main source of power. It had continued to accelerate the ship, avoiding stellar dangers. Then the computer had found a safe area, using the last of its power to reverse acceleration until it achieved stationary status.

Its energy at minimum power, the back-up system of this spaceship channeled all the energy the ship absorbed from space into the life-support systems. There had been no planetary systems then, at the beginning of the universe, capable of sustaining life, but the ship could not wait. In its last effort to protect the crew in this relatively stable area of space, it had no longer enough energy to reactivate the crew. Here the ship had waited another 14 billion years.

The creatures began to approach her, stopping a meter in front of where she stood. Their sad, aged eyes regarded her curiously, as though they were trying to calculate where she had come from and if she were one of them, another survivor who had found them in space.

Selerael found a beacon in her belt and turned it on, hoping to hide the unnatural aura around herself in case it made her appear frightening or threatening to them.

But the man she had observed stepped towards her and peered into her face, suddenly registering a new trace of recognition.

"Are you a colonizer's child?" he asked in a language she had never heard before. She read its meaning from his thoughts. He clearly understood that she was able to do so, as if he were used to having his mind perused by another. And yet from her probing, she discovered that none of the people before her possessed telepathic abilities.

"A colonizer?" she wondered, attempting to decipher what he meant. He had only a vague image in his mind, a shadowy human form with piercing multi-colored eyes, eyes that oscillated hues like a prism refracting the light. She didn't understand what he meant. Selerael knew her mother had been Seynorynaelian, but this man had no knowledge of any such place.

His home had been Enor, one of its colonies.

But, as the moments passed after their awakening, it became clear that their memories, dimmed in hyper-sleep, retreated further into their minds, like a dream fading into morning. Or a nightmare that has been lost to the light of day. Some of the ones who gathered around her expectantly had lost nearly all of their memory.

As the Enorians followed her out into the ship, the man answered her questions mentally when she continued to read his mind. His thoughts recalled that once long ago he had seen a large space fleet of enormous vessels, but in order to produce enough escape ships for the entire population, their Enorian colonies had been forced to limit the size and productivity of their ships.

Their tiny escape vessels had no weapons or bio-gardens, and minimal cargo. Foodstuffs had been manufactured chemically for the brief duration of their trip before entering suspension. The ship had been equipped with propulsion reserves and complex navigational equipment. The computer reported that the singularity that had allowed them passage through space-time had inexplicably disappeared shortly after re-entry into the new universe.

Selerael turned to regard the others for confirmation, but vague images were all that had been left the crew. The man she had contacted remembered the most, though like the others, he could not recall many concrete facts—not even his own name. Selerael asked the computer for its data file on the crew, but the computer had no information to give her. Its entire memory was filled with the complexities of navigation, an extensive list of possible actions and reactions that gave it supreme flexibility under any conditions to solve the greatest hardship or obstacle threatening the lives of the crew.

All of the escape computers had been made this way, equipped with the bare minimum of functions. Even with years of warning, it had taken eons for word to reach Lexcar, the only of a few names in its memory, a planet of the outer colonies from which this ship had departed, and still longer to build enough rescue ships for a trillion trillion people. Each ship could only hold fifty with large hypersleep liquid reserve tanks.

The computer did acknowledge that their trip had been longer than the ideal scenario predicted before the launch. The guidelines of their escape dictated that the computer was to strive for the shortest duration in travel time in order to preserve the memories of the crew. The computer had analyzed every possible recourse to their stationary situation but to no avail. A short hypersleep was not possible. Another scenario would have to suffice. In any case, it did not understand the importance of memories, only the significance of preserving their lives.

Selerael stopped short of the air lock door where she had entered.

How were these Enorian creatures going to adapt to _Selesta?_ Without any memories, how would they function in the _Selesta's_ world?

Imprinting a basic English, Russian, Sakaran, and Kamian vocabulary into their minds proved more difficult than she realized. Some of the alien creatures could no longer speak, and before she could imprint language, she had to use her telekinetic power to repair the damage to the synapses in their minds that initiated speech patterns, damage time had wrought despite their suspended state.

However, once she had repaired the physical damages, she found their minds able to absorb billions of stimuli. It was a miracle, but there was hope for their recovery. Yet they would have to begin their lives anew. Time, like death, had robbed them of identity.

Cameron Zhdanov was going to be upset, that he would have Enorians here at last, but no new answers about them or from them.

Selerael's friend Cameron Zhdanov and the other scientists and medical specialists turned towards the air lock as Selerael finally re-appeared, and they watched her approach them, trying to maintain their composure, yet eager for news.

Cameron, an olive-skinned man with curling hair the color of an oak tree, was one of the older biological sciences specialists. He was by nature cantankerous but affectionate, meticulous, organized, reasonable.

Despite Cameron's years, his manner and gait remained youthfully energetic. At the moment, however, most of his features were obscured by the protective flightsuit and helmet that he wore. The atmosphere in the eleventh cargo bay was breathable, but it was best to take precautions in case microorganisms and contaminants somehow reached the cargo bay past the decontamination chamber of the air lock; after all, they were dealing with an unknown here, and Cameron and the others seldom took unnecessary chances.

"Selerael!" Cameron said, relief freeing his voice while she was still some distance away. "What kept you?"

"We need the medical units." She said, hurrying towards him. Once she had reached the circle of scientists, she eyed Cameron with a steady, piercing gaze. Cameron, dear Cameron, she thought, registering a twinge of guilt. She could see that she had upset him by disappearing for so long in the alien ship, but he didn't _understand_.

"There are _humanoids_ aboard." She said, knowing how the statement would stir them all up. Immediately, the tentative serenity shared equally among the scientists turned to collective incredulity.

"More humanoids?" Cameron repeated, grasping at comprehension. Several of the assembly glanced from one to another, surprised; from what they had recently learned from contact with the Goeur Empire, the humanoid form was strangely common in this large galactic supercluster, but these were still far outnumbered by non-humanoid lifeforms.

"My scanners report no traces of known antibodies of any kind in these people." Selerael reported, scanning the group. She reached out to grasp Cameron's helmet playfully. "So you won't need this—"

"I'll keep my helmet secure, if it's all the same," Cameron said peevishly, pulling himself free.

"And, Cameron," she said, "I think they were from Enor."

* * * * *

After the Enorians' arrival, Selerael had spent a few hours with the Enorians in the cargo bay, relaying only a brief history of Selesta's journey from Earth to the new aliens. No one else on the ship knew more about the departure from Earth, apart from herself. Essentials were all that the aliens needed, she knew, in order to begin new lives without any outside impositions. They would have to relearn identities and personalities on their own.

"How strange that these Enorian refugees have nearly no memory," she said out loud again.

"Yes," Cameron Zhdanov was still there, and also looking as worse for wear.

Enorians?!! Selerael could barely believe it, even though she knew what the aliens behind her were, having read their fading memories by telepathy before those memories were lost. The crew of _Selesta_ , Earth and alien alike, had been searching for clues of Enor for five generations, and at long last had found them—forty-two of them, and no more, from a civilization that had been billions of billions.

Selerael had often wondered how the Enorians were related to Seynorynael, indeed if they were. She knew little enough of her own mysterious people's origins. Selerael had been found on Earth when the spaceship _Selesta_ crashed there and had been raised to believe she was a human being. After the Earth crew took the _Selesta_ from the Earth to draw away the hostile aliens attacking the Earth, the crew had soon encountered a dozen and more civilizations, former territories of a once great but unidentified galactic empire that had fallen under unknown circumstances. And soon afterwards, Selerael and the other Earth people had discovered that she was not human but the daughter of an alien explorer from the Seynorynaelian Federation, a political coalition that had once encompassed the seven galaxy groups that included the Earth's Milky Way Galaxy.

So far, as _Selesta_ traveled from one territory to another, everywhere they heard of the legendary Enorians, the supposed ancestors of all humanoid life. Yet the whereabouts of the legendary planet of Enor, famous through the seven galaxy clusters beyond the Great Cluster of Seynorynael, remained a mystery.

Selerael now knew that Enor had truly existed. The leader of the Enorian refugees' memory had telepathically shown her what Enor had been in the desperate days when the Enorian universe collapsed. Since that time, at least seventeen billion years had passed in the present universe, though there was no telling how long the Enorian refugee ships had drifted between universes before coming here.

The irony was that the Enorians' memories, preserved for so long in suspended animation, had begun to decompose almost as soon as they had been awakened. Now that Selerael was about to present the Enorians to her fellow crew, the Enorians themselves remembered almost nothing of their former lives.

"They're almost like children," she thought, "so meek, so weak as well."

A strange feeling washed through her, a disturbing sensation. How awful, she thought, to have forgotten so much, and not to even be aware of the fact that you had ever forgotten anything at all. Selerael had always believed that forgetting her memories would be like dying. As beautiful a race as the Enorians were, Selerael thought, the Enorians were like the walking dead, or like children re-born.

Yet, the Enorian man who first contacted her had wished for the oblivion he now had. He had wished for a merciful escape from the few recollections he had left, recollections of chilling nightmares he had endured in hyper-sleep and of terror, the agonizing terror the Enorians had known when they scrambled desperately, trying to escape from the Great Collapse.

"I can't imagine what they are, or what they went through," she thought. "Perhaps they were better off starting over."

"I've examined for possible antigens dangerous to human beings, but none seem present." Selerael said, shrugging. "We'll set up some vaccine tests of all types in case they're compatible with these aliens—and someone send for some beds. They'll need to sleep in their ship a couple of days until the antigens take, but I think we can safely arrange a preliminary meeting now."

"Sounds good," Cameron agreed.

"No one has entered the area since we sealed the cargo bay for decontamination?" She asked, looking to Cameron.

"Not that I'm aware," he answered, managing to sound calm. This conversation was necessary, but it was not what he really wanted to talk about.

The other scientists seemed to take the news and orders with equanimity, as they usually did around Selerael.

The entire crew in fact regarded Selerael as their leader. Few questioned her judgment; most respected her. As he grew older, Cameron often wondered how Selerael felt about the deferential attitude that prevailed around her. What was it like for her? To know always that the lives of all the crew depended wholly upon her actions? To have been raised on the Earth so many years ago and to be snatched away from their ancestral homeland, only to find out that she had never been human at all?

Selerael rarely said much about her past. Cameron Zhdanov had learned it from rumor.

However, there was little need for individual greed or glory on _Selesta_ , where each person pulled their own weight according to ability because this cooperation was the best for each individual's survival, as well as for the survival of their small, sundered community of the human race.

At the same time, there was plenty of opportunity for each person on board to be challenged and tested by the most extreme and bizarre of situations as they traveled into the unimaginable, and occasion for each man and woman to prove their worth both to themselves and to those around them. Yet Cameron felt each life _Selesta_ harbored was precious, not only because each member of their community was the current end result of the evolutionary journey of Earth and that of other planets, but because he believed in the unknown potential of each human being, whether or not circumstances ever developed that potential or not. He had plenty of cause to be both jaded and inspired by other living beings; he chose never to make rapid judgments of anyone, to have faith in others, and to care about them.

Sometimes it was harder than at other times.

Nevertheless, the few really obnoxious individuals aboard ship, the people he knew to be loudmouths or brash, the small-minded, the simpletons, the spiteful, the mule-headed, the priggishly vain—he left Selerael and Adam to deal with them, to placate them, to handle them. Cameron was not a very good at making conversation or dealing with people he didn't much like.

He was a scientist, and preferred his labs and his truths.

Cameron shivered as the group of grey-skinned humanoids with stone grey eyes moved past him. They were being taken to their beds for now.

There was something unsettling about their appearance, something unnatural; their beauty was unnatural, ancient, strangely evolved and yet residually primordial, unattainable—and all of this gave him the vaguest sensation that they were _dangerous_. They were humanoid, but they did not seem at all human. They were something far older, something primal and mysteriously powerful, something that human beings would never understand. They were almost like Selerael, the woman everyone _thought_ they knew; Cameron often wondered if anyone but her son Adam really knew her at all.

"What happened?" Selerael heard her son Adam ask. He had now appeared beside her, having come from the other side of the cargo bay; she could never hide her private distress from him. He was so adept at reading his mother's expressions, it seemed as if he could read her mind. But then, Adam was also telepathic; his mother's mind was the only one entirely closed to him.

Adam was in nature very much like his mother, a natural leader among men, self-controlled, self-contained, composed, private, and usually unreadable, far-seeing, with an intelligent sense of humor; despite all of this, however, there was a mild aloofness about him, an air of perfect, unflappable calm and security Cameron often wondered about. Was there a melancholy underneath it all? Was there a side to Adam that no one knew about, a side far less rational and confident, a darker, more dangerous alien nature that Adam kept suppressed? Cameron couldn't help but wonder, but he felt certain that he would never know.

"Is something wrong?" Cameron asked them in concern, his grey brows crooked into bushy peaks. Of course, he knew something was wrong now, because of Adam's question, but the alien mother and her half-alien son so often neglected to keep non-telepathic people apprised of events! he noted ruefully.

"Ahem." Said Cameron Zhdanov.

"I'm not sure yet," Selerael said and laughed, having heard Cameron's thoughts; then she turned to one of the alien ship's passengers.

Cameron waited impatiently as she sang an unfamiliar question to the alien man, and then shivered involuntarily; Selerael so rarely used all of the three small voice-boxes in her throat at once. It never failed to shock him when she did. Her voice in such moments was like music, as unintelligible as music.

Meanwhile, the strange grey-faced man only regarded Selerael with a confused expression, his eyes clear, without concern. He shook his head once. Cameron looked on, studied them all: Selerael and Adam in silver-blue flightsuits, the alien man clad in a uniform of highly reflective, silver-colored material. Selerael's exposed face suddenly betrayed a rare glimmer of anguish and disappointment as she processed the alien man's negative response. Cameron wondered why.

_What was that, mother?_ Adam asked telepathically, thinking similar thoughts to Cameron's.

Adam had searched the alien man's memories but found only vague images of a former life, like a forgotten dream; the imprint of English, _Selesta's_ cultures and languages his mother had given the man were the only strong thoughts in his mind. There was a whispering sound on the verge of his senses he couldn't reach, a soft hiss like the sound of wind in tree branches, or the sound of unending ocean waves lapping on the shore. The sound was Enorian, the last whispers of that language dying away in the man's mind.

_What did the Enorian say?_ Adam asked, suddenly disturbed. His mother had turned away to help the medical teams when the natural music abruptly died.

"What is it?" Cameron asked Adam quietly when Adam's eyes were illuminated by sudden knowledge; Cameron knew mother and son well enough to recognize signs of the silent communications that passed between them.

Adam turned to Cameron with a half-smile, the glorious, mysterious smile of a man who has known every depth and pinnacle of human feeling. Who has felt the tremendous burden and exalted pleasure of each and every human feeling. Such a man could only ever remain a mystery to those around him.

"Only a few moments after mother woke the Enorians from their suspended sleep, their leader spoke to her in his own language. But he's forgotten it—forgotten nearly everything he ever knew or was. They all have. Now he doesn't even know what it was he asked her, or why."

Cameron's elation rapidly plummeted into disappointment of the acutest kind.

"I already knew that."

"What did he say to her, did she say?" Cameron wondered, now earnestly intrigued to learn the least little information about the Enorians that was ever going to come to light.

"He asked—'are you a colonizer's child?'" Adam said, and a mark of concentration creased the flesh between his eyes; Cameron noted the gesture and rapidly processed its significance.

Could it be possible? Could it be believed? The Enorian leader had mistakenly thought Selerael was an Enorian, or a colonizer that had to have been a part of the Enorian civilization, for the Enorian leader had no memories of any time before the Great Collapse! What did it all mean, though? Had it just been a misunderstanding? Of course, a mistake like this, if mistake it were, was bound to distress Adam.

"What's a colonizer?" Cameron demanded, his voice rising.

Adam stopped and turned back around, wearing an expression that Cameron had never seen before. Adam's face was unsettled, unhappy, and his eyes were haunted, and for the first time, Cameron had an answer to his question: Adam was not infallible. And if he kept the secrets of human thought to himself, it was for good reason. Any lesser man would not have been able to fight back the overwhelming force of all of the self-wrought evil that plagued the human race: for Adam carried the thoughts of all men with him, good _and_ evil. Unbelievable as it was, Cameron now saw that Adam's life was less blessed than Cameron had ever before imagined. And for all that Adam did know, he would never have the knowledge he craved the most. Everything about his own existence was and would remain a mystery to him.

"That's what my mother wanted to know." Adam said, evading the whole truth once more, and then once again his face was unreadable.

* * * * *

Two days later, Selesta drew into an orbit over the fourth planet of the nearby white star system. Cameron insisted on checking on whether or not any other Enorian escape vessels had made it to the planet, for Selerael said she had "read" that the grey-skinned Enorian people had come from an Enorian colony planet called Lexcar before their memories faded away.

The scout team, Cameron among them, descended to the fourth planet, a living green world with one giant continent and vast oceans. Despite Cameron's advanced age, Adam often marveled at the tall, gangly man's enthusiasm for terrestrial exploration, but he supposed Cameron had inherited a double dose of intrepidness from his grandmother, Dr. Knightwood and grandfather, Dr. Sergei Zhdanov.

Adam had taken the little boy Cameron on his first venture more than ninety years ago; after that first venture, the boy Cameron had always refused to be left behind. He had also followed his childhood hero Adam all over the ship for several years. As a scientist, Cameron had later worked with Adam in compiling new data on several terrestrial forays, including trips to the planets Kamia, Sakar, and Goeur. Cameron Zhdanov had even made Adam godfather to his children. But while Cameron had grown old, Adam still appeared to be a young man; to Cameron's absolute, reasoning mind, this "miracle" daily reminded him that there was neither a finite limit to knowledge nor to the ability and potential of the human race.

"Heading in," the pilot said.

The air shuttle landed near a rich field of dark green foliage, the edge of a great plateau covered in plant life. The team found no advanced intelligent species, but scans from the atmosphere had shown an abundance of edible vegetation and animal forms, so they boarded another shuttle to slowly comb through the environment. The ground shuttle bounced over hilly terrain, hugging the surface with gripping belts as the team moved farther from the clearing where the air shuttle had landed and towards the edge of the great green fields where they hoped to take samples.

The green fields looming closer at last stretched wide before them, filling the view ahead. The scientists disembarked at that point and approached their destination on foot. They stepped down into the plateau and into the green fields, where various plants grew from ankle to chest height. After a moment, one of the former Goeur slaves exclaimed excitedly.

"Milacu! Milacu!" she cried, capturing Cameron's attention with her people's word for "discovery".

The aged woman had a mother-of-pearl complexion, limpid amethyst orbs that passed for eyes, and feathery hair that folded away from her face in perfect snow-colored wings, hair that had once been a dark silver-black, like starlight on midnight seas. She was known to possess an abundance of good common sense and a sharp sense of perception; though she rarely instigated conversation, her answers were always thorough and well-thought.

"What was this all about?' Cameron wondered.

At the moment, the woman called to another Goeur technician, an amber-skinned man even older than Cameron and they conferred; then the amber-skinned man nodded furiously, agreeing with her as they both surveyed some weed she held flat on her palm, a weed that she had uprooted from the soil.

"Now what are they going on about?" Cameron asked in mock irritation. Beside him, Selerael and Adam were the only creatures not wearing helmets with their uniforms to protect them from any possible contamination, nor were they carrying atmosphere packs to help them to breathe.

Meanwhile the Goeur woman Hil-ku-nay approached Selerael and held out the small plant she had pulled from the ground. It had a thick, long white root that struck Cameron as a cross between an Earth carrot and turnip, with strange "eyes" like a potato. The amber-skinned man Korveg followed, and the three of them began talking and gesturing about the fields. Cameron gave in to curiosity and approached them.

"What is that?" He asked, pointing to the plant with the white tap root.

"It's an _urbin_ root," Hil-ku-nay replied. "Very popular on Goeur, but rare now," she added. "Korveg says there are _mika_ plants here, too, and _firan_ all over the place. I don't know where we are, but I do know these plants came from different territories of the Goeur Empire. Why they're growing here I can't imagine," Hil-ku-nay shook her head.

"So in essence what you're saying is this planet must be—some kind of giant greenhouse?" Cameron laughed nervously, running an eye over the fields. "Then who put it here, and why haven't they come back to harvest all of this?" he motioned to the great expanse that stretched to the horizon.

"Are you complaining, Cameron?" Adam laughed heartily, an intelligent, complete laugh. Did he know that his mere laughter had the power to calm and at times to provoke those around him, that his friend Cameron was conscious of the fact that the sound was unattainable in himself?

"Still don't like to eat your vegetables, do you?" Adam threw out.

Cameron sighed.

* * * * *

"Selesta hasn't responded to us, sir," one of _Enlil's_ radar specialists announced from the far side of the Great Leader's command center. Like a creature of stealth, the giant spaceship _Enlil_ had approached the planet and pulled into a geosynchronous orbit almost on the other side of the planet from Selesta.

_Good_ , Sargon thought, rising decisively from his command chair.

"Great Leader, scattered visuals have just detected a large group from _Selesta_ on the planet below," one of the bridge officers interrupted him. "They must have gone to the surface before we arrived."

"Bring up the image," Sargon shouted and waited impatiently for the holo-monitor to magnify the view of the planet below. An image of a green plateau filled the monitor, and Sargon was struck by a sudden desire to abandon the _Enlil_ and descend to the planet. He shook off the feeling, then suddenly came to new life.

"Alessia!" he called, his face a glow of excitement. The field of his elite officers working on the _Enlil's_ bridge looked on, struck mute by the unprecedented change in their Great Leader.

For the past generation, he had kept much to himself, seeming remote and sullen even when he could be found. He had disappeared several times in the last hundred years, sometimes only for a tenday and once for two Orian years, sometimes within the ship, sometimes on a planetary surface. However, at the present, the Orian elite tore their eyes from the Great Leader, curious to see what was on the surface of this world that had evinced such an unimaginable reaction from him. They knew nothing of an "alessia", but it had to be something interesting.

Meanwhile Sargon narrowed blue eyes on the image and leaned forward. He was youthful in appearance, lean, and well-muscled like an animal, with pale ghostly grey skin. His face was handsome.

"No—is it?"

A group of blue-clad humanoids filled the screen, loading plants onto their shuttle; two of their number wore no helmets, a man with milk-white skin like sea foam and gold hair—clearly some kind of alien—and a Orian woman. One of their own? No! C—could it be? _Alessia_! It _was_ her!

_Zariqua Enassa_ , ice pounded through the Orians' veins as the creature's face turned into the monitor briefly. Suddenly, a tormented sound filled the room, and they stopped, wordless, not daring to interrupt the bizarre outpouring of emotion from their leader.

"Alessia?" Sargon demanded to know. "Will she face me again, after all of these years?"

We shall see.

_Yes, I know it, father, I know it now_. Sargon thought after a moment. _I have let my love, my bitterness and hatred, destroy me—and I blamed it on her. I needed her love, her approval, father, always_.

Before their very eyes, the Great Leader crumpled to his feet as though suddenly overcome by exhaustion or defeat. His legs splayed on the ground with one knee propped up at an angle, his arms reaching behind him, his palms flat to the ground in support. Then he buried his face in his hands, an elbow on his knee. He did not cry, no, not him. But that might almost have been preferable to the frenzied behavior of the Great Leader. His fingers dug like little spikes into his temples, drawing blood that miraculously cleared as the wounds in his face spontaneously healed.

The Orian crew hesitated to interrupt. Their Great Leader was not known to be kind to those who interrupted him or to those who bore bad news.

Sargon was helpless. He was utterly free, too. He was immortal, or very nearly so. He needed no material good in all of the universe to sustain him; he was dependent on nothing for his own survival, but that had made him apathetic. What was the challenge in something so easily conquered? He could even manipulate matter at will. Absolute power had left him no great purpose, no great ambition that would make sense to anyone who had not traveled a moment in his situation. There was but one thing he needed to preserve, to attain his self-worth; he needed the woman who had brought him to his present tormented condition to accept him, to adore him, yes, to be with him again. He needed the normal life he had wanted, that he would never have.

By the time the Great Leader recovered, the expression in his eyes turning from regret to anger and hatred, it was too late to send an Orian cruiser or fighter squadron. _Selesta's_ team had already loaded all of their supplies and returned to their ship.

"They're still out there, aren't they, the Orians?" Cameron said as he entered the bridge.

"Yes, I'm afraid they are," Adam replied, turning around.

"What do you suppose they want with us?" Cameron sighed; there was no answer to this question in his own understanding of the universe.

"I wish I knew." Adam agreed in the same tone of voice. The _Enlil_ had been following the ship more closely than ever in the year since the team had left the planetary greenhouse.

"Sir, we've got a planet on radar." Specialist Taylor, a dark-headed Earthling, interrupted.

"Where?" Adam asked, alert but not afraid.

"At the edge of the elliptical galaxy we're heading towards." One of the specialists answered.

Minutes passed. All was silence.

Then, as they passed the second planet from the yellow star, the bridge picked up the faint signal of a radio transmitter from the surface.

"What is it?" Cameron asked one of the Goeur technicians on the bridge.

"I don't know," he shook his head, his thick hair white like a cloud, though he was a young man; all Goeur natives had hair like his, which darkened to grey with age. "The second planet seems too hot for humans to survive very long." Cameron's eye wandered to the image of a crater-pocked world with little atmosphere, no surface water, and great active volcanoes. Cameron did not see how it would be possible for anything to exist on the world below them.

"Cameron, is it possible that there are lifeforms down there?"

"I suppose," Cameron replied, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Not likely, though."

Then as the visuals relayed from the surface, the bridge crew stared at a great metallic dome on a rock-strewn plateau, connected to a large artificial crater by a network of thin white lanes.

"Looks like a mine of some kind," Adam commented.

Cameron's eye strayed from Adam back to the image. "Any life readings?"

"No," specialist Taylor responded.

Cameron was about to head back to his laboratory when Adam's expression caught his eye. "No, Adam," he protested, sensing the man's plan. "You're not thinking of—"

"Going down there?" Adam laughed, this time a laugh of resolution. "You said it yourself, Cameron. We've been running low on all of our minerals and ores ever since the Goeur expansion."

"What about the _Enlil_?" Cameron reminded him.

"She's still back by that binary star system." Derica updated, dismantling his argument.

"That isn't enough time for a scout—"

"Well then, you'll just have to stay behind on this one." Adam slapped him on the back, a dissembled gesture of protective sentiment. "I'll go by myself."

"Adam—"

"We need new supplies. How do we know if we'll ever get an opportunity like this again?"

"Sorry, my reckless son, but I can't let you go alone." Selerael interrupted; Adam turned to the entrance on the bridge, where his mother had just appeared, having come from the crew's quarters below.

"Of course, you were monitoring all along, weren't you?" Adam laughed in mock exasperation, shaking his head at her. "Being reckless now and again keeps me from feeling my age." He explained, eyeing her.

Cameron sighed as Selerael gave her son a wink, and glanced back to Adam, whose face wore an approving smile.

"Call _me_ incorrigible, do they?" Cameron wailed, then delighted that Selerael and Adam descended upon him, mussing the top of his thinning hair.

* * * * *

When Sargon received the message that a Valerian fighter had left the _Selesta_ , he knew it was the chance he had been waiting for. Instructing _Enlil_ to divert Selesta's attention with all of the fighter squadrons, he himself emerged from the opposite side of _Enlil_ in a fighter and flew towards the planet.

From high in the sky, Sargon saw the grounded shuttle, its cargo hold open, and two figures below loading ores of some kind.

_It must be her,_ he thought, overcome by a sense of elation. _Alessia!_

Sargon did not, however, want to alert her to his presence. He took the fighter around to the other side of a large metallic building and landed out of sight of the shuttle. Descending from the plane, he straightened his maroon and grey uniform and suddenly gasped as the lack of atmosphere hit his lungs. For a moment, he almost panicked, but already he could feel his internal systems adapting to this hostile environment.

A gift long ago from Alessia now saved his life, a blood transfusion of immortal blood that kept him alive, no matter what happened to him, no matter how he suffered.

Sargon crept towards the open mine, the empty atmosphere masking his movement in utter silence.

Adam was loading another block of ore onto the loader, thankful that whoever had abandoned this mine had left so many salvageable extracted pieces lying around. The inhuman strength he had inherited from his mother helped him to load pieces ten times as heavy as an ordinary man could have, but the weak gravity of the planet increased that amount to sixty times.

Suddenly Adam felt as though someone were watching him, and he stopped a moment to calm down; this wasn't reality. This was his own imagination, not his perception, he reassured himself. Then he realized that he wasn't the only one to have experienced the sensation. Looking up, he saw an expression of horror and fear frozen on his mother's face.

As he stared at her, he sensed an intruder behind them round the edge of the metallic dome. Adam turned around as a young man stepped into view only fifty feet away from them.

Like them, his face and body had been exposed to the atmosphere, the deadly cosmic rays, the oppressive heat—and yet he was still alive. Adam recognized the uniform he wore as one of the kinds seen throughout _Selesta_ , a uniform of maroon and grey coloring—an Orian uniform. The man's face, coming from the shadows, was the same color as his mother's in the bright light. His blue eyes stared at her with such intensity that like his mother, Adam was paralyzed by it.

The eyes—startled, then softened by some inexplicable feeling of delighted adoration, betrayed recognition. Then they seemed to scan the pair more closely. The expression on that face turned into uncertainty.

_But you're not Alessia..._ There was shock in the words... Adam also heard words in the Orian language and understood them. _Who are you?_

Selerael continued to stare at the intruder. She felt tears sting her eyes. Why was she experiencing this? And why was she fighting them back? What force was this that had made her feel so desperately lost? As she studied the Orian man before her, her mind grappled to suppress an image of fire raining from a darkened sky, an image that sprung from nowhere, an image she recognized, but she couldn't remember why.

She staggered back, shaking off the memories, refusing to indulge them, retreating from the horror of the Orian creature's mental barrage.

_Adam, get us out of here!_ She cried telepathically. Adam heard her call, and realized dimly that his mother had frozen, unable to move further. He felt a mind-force around her, a paralyzing assault of control communicative energy unleashed by the unknown man who had found them here. As quickly as possible, Adam ran headlong into that field, keeping his thoughts focused elsewhere, outside the present. It was the only way to protect himself. He thought of long ago, of his parents and Faulkner, of days spent in the forest on _Selesta_. His own precious memories, summoned to the present, could be used to protect him; they were not meaningless.

His mental barrier worked. Adam reached his mother's side. The man was coming towards them now, slowly, as though certain of victory.

Adam felt a wave of indignation and defiance in the face of that arrogant assurance. He wasn't going to let that creature win. He didn't care what it wanted, what it had come here to do. He wouldn't let his mother down, now when he could save her! Adam lifted his mother gently, hurrying from the power that leeched into his thoughts, trying to control him. He quickly put Selerael in the shuttle and shut the outer doors, then glanced nervously out the viewport to see if they had been followed.

But the man in the distance hadn't moved.

Why, why was he not moving?

Adam powered the shuttle and took off, watched from the surface.

_He saved her_. The stunned figure thought. _But who was she, who looked so much like Alessia_? _And how could he have been immune to my attack_? _Are they, too, from Seynorynael_? _Were they asleep on_ Selesta _all this time_? _And if so, why hadn't Alessia known about them when she visited him in Destria so long ago_?

What could it all mean, and where was Alessia?!

### Chapter Nineteen

_I'm getting tired of saying good-bye, and tired of funerals,_ Adam thought angrily, shifting tirelessly in his chair on the bridge as he remembered his most recent friend, Seleka Zhdanov, his greatest friend Cameron Zhdanov's great-granddaughter. Seleka had died only two weeks ago, after contracting an unknown illness on a planetary excursion several years before, a long, lingering illness that no one, not even Selerael, had been able to cure.

"I wish I could go back to my quarters."

But no matter where Adam went on the ship these days, the image of Seleka's bright green eyes seemed to follow him. Could she really be gone? She, who had been half-Enorian and half Earthling, whom he had come to care so much about despite the risks inherent in caring for any one not tied to his unnaturally long life, despite the fact that caring for her could only have brought her pain.

Adam hadn't though himself capable of love, much less such sincere platonic love for a woman. Could it have been more? He kept wondering. Perhaps it was a good thing that she had died so young; their world wasn't a place for one as innocent and good as she had been.

No! he rejected the thought almost as soon as it had formed. Someone so good should never have died so young, though this too often seemed to happen in life. How else was the rest of humanity to be bettered by their example?

Had her Enorian constitution contributed in some way to her death? He often wondered. The lost Enorians hadn't had any antibodies when they arrived, but their descendants had been living on board Selesta now for nearly two hundred years, long enough for their race to learn to fight off human diseases.

Struck by a sudden realization, Adam looked over to his mother, who sat like a statue in the Captain's chair.

How many more faces, inexorable demons, haunted her?

He, who always embraced knowledge, who craved answers to all mysteries, found he didn't want to know.

As Adam sat in thought, without warning, _Selesta_ suddenly jumped through the throat of a wormhole.

A wormhole gate—now?? His last thoughts formed as all sense of reality failed.

Adam had been through many such wormhole jumps. In the years since _Selesta_ had left the Earth, the ship had traveled through thousands of wormholes that swisscheesed the galaxies and territories within the galaxy supercluster that contained the Goeur Empire. However, in the last two hundred years they hadn't come across any of the interstellar short-cuts that had been rampant near the Goeur Empire and its territorial worlds. None of the living crew, aside from him and his mother, had experienced wormhole sub-space travel.

"Wow, what's going on now?" he wondered.

The crew hadn't detected the wormhole, a dark pinpoint in the sky that suddenly enlarged to form a dark, flat, rectangular face in the backdrop of stars. Gaps appeared in the stars that spread into bands of light, multiplied as if by a prism. The lights multiplied and spread, patterns repeated again and again, and the dark sky was swallowed by the blueshifted light of gravitational lensing. Then the ship hit the bright collage of colors.

Some of the Earthling crew within the sleek vessel shook off the after effects as they emerged into real space again. They had been left with a sudden queasiness and that peculiar mental glitch that characterized subspace travel, the inability to recall their last thought. Only one passenger on board retained thought and awareness inside the wormhole gates.

Selerael cursed under her breath when the world around her suddenly transformed. She had gotten better at transforming her own mass into energy to evade the strange effect subspace travel had upon objects. As pure energy, the distortions did not affect her.

_It's going to be a long trip_ , she thought tiredly. A moment later, she was no longer aware of her physical body, of muscle, bone, or sinew. She had no physical form in this dimension, only a shadow of no substance. She was nothing but energy now, a transformed entity whose every former cell, sentient and united, understood the meaning of thoughts without giving voice to any. Dissipating her own sentient energy across the ship, she was able to perceive the movement of every other particle on board. Dimly she understood that this wormhole had fallen into disrepair; the tachiyon drive had initiated a higher level of acceleration than usual, and in response the engine sphere created a frenzied beacon of energetic negative pressure waves.

As reality returned, she came back to herself on the bridge.

The alarm siren sounded several minutes later, before any of the crew had a chance to regain their bearings.

On the bridge, the specialists assembled and checked the status of all of _Selesta's_ guidance systems.

"Present location?" Selerael demanded.

"Two hundred thousand kilometers from a small Earth-class planet." Specialist Toriso told them.

A holographic image appeared from the overhead viewscreen, depicting a small world with swaths of white swirling clouds across the surface, blue and green patches peeking through far below.

_It can't be—_ Selerael felt as though her heart had jumped into her throat.

The image of that planet had dredged her soul, found and contacted her hidden vulnerability.

"The _Enlil_ grazed us in the wormhole," Specialist Derica suddenly called out. "They're behind us now. I'm picking up gravitational waves, massive spatial fluctuations in the vicinity of the first planet's orbital path. They're traveling so quickly that they'll overtake us in less than a minute—"

"What about our gravitational cloak and particle shield?" Adam asked.

"Engaged, sir," Derica nodded.

"Good. Then take us into an orbit around the planet, if you can," Adam directed, sensing his mother's distraction. Her eyes were riveted upon the image in the holofield.

"There's a small spaceship already in orbit around the planet and several smaller space stations from the looks of it. I'll see if I can take us in on a higher orbit." Giran offered, and turned to Selerael for approval. She would guide them—she had been their pillar of strength generation after generation, even before his own grandfather had joined Selesta's crew.

But behind him, Selerael suddenly burst into tears. Giran had never seen her shed a tear in all of his life.

'It's Tiasenne!" she said with a cry. "Where I was born!"

"Captain?" Giran turned around, giving a start as Selerael collapsed to her knees, the blood draining from his face. The others on the bridge had also stopped, regarding her, paralyzed by her unprecendented behavior.

"Stop!" Selerael screamed, shaking her head, but she could not fight the force of the memories from this planet.

This planet—dear God, she _knew_ this planet—Tiasenne! She had seen it long ago, the same image she had studied from high above on that day when she ran around the vegetation, and Yorzei's elder sister Klimyata pulled her away—

She was remembering it all!

—not long afterward she had slept, and visions of fire descended in her dreams. In those dreams there was always the synthesized, reedy voice, only now she understood the words it had spoken to her, the words that had haunted her all her life—

I have long known how special you are, what your special destiny must be...

* * * * *

Selerael looked up, the surface of her eyes now calm.

She stood. The movement was deliberate, swift, elapsing within a second.

Her face was calm, but inside, she was glad she had lost against the power of this world. The forgotten part of her soul buried all these years had risen to the surface of her mind, rising to the surface like an ancient treasure hidden for many years in the depths, undisturbed and forgotten, now very real.

Dear Uncle Kesney, Selerael thought, recalling days in her early childhood, her life on _Selesta_ far beneath the surface of Tiasenne. Her "second father" Kesney and his fiery wife Klimyata—they were no longer shadows from another existence but alive to her again. All the days she had known them, and—her mother! The woman she had seen on board, but little remembered, but for a fleeting image—

—an image before she became Erin Mathieson—

Alessia, who haunted her dreams, whispering of memories, beloved memories every child has of its mother when there is nothing and no one else in all the world—

Singing an ancient song to soothe her to sleep...

Had she forgotten them all just to shield herself from the agony of separation? No. Ornenkai, the voice she had heard in her nightmares— _he_ had taken her away from them, and he had effaced her memories of them because to him memories apparently held no value.

There was no mistaking that Alessia was here, near the planet before her. Hinev's serum pulsing through her veins told her so, but she already knew. Yet her mother hadn't sent any signal to indicate she also knew her daughter had returned. How _could_ her mother know she was here? Selesta had raised its anti-gravitational wave detection barrier, making the ship virtually invisible.

"Mother," Selerael said, her throat tight. She was still angry at Ornenkai that she had ever forgotten her. "Mother, I'm coming!" she vowed.

"The _Enlil_ has just altered its course to rendezvous with the small ship orbiting the planet." Derica ventured, facing her console. The others, still scrutinizing their leader for a sign that might explain her unusual behavior, turned back to their stations.

"Mother—are you going to be all right?" Adam asked, instinctively coming towards her; he had forgotten about himself as he asked it. Suddenly remembering his own existence and present movement, he stopped.

"Take us in behind the _Enlil_ and prepare a scout party." Selerael said.

"We're boarding the alien craft?" Toriso queried, his brow ridges drawing together.

"Yes. That smaller ship there is the flagship my mother stayed upon."

"You heard her," Adam ordered, his words confident, his mind usually so indifferently curious about the future, as though he were but a spectator of the reality around him, now actively intrigued. "We're going in, so get ready."

"This is the moment we've waited for, Adam." Selerael's voice rang with a tone of finality.

"I know, mother," he replied gravely. "I know."

* * * * *

In the depths of _Selesta_ , among the dark corridors and chambers housing the collection of specimens from ancient exploration ventures, a corpse stirred to life from an unmarked coffin.

The creature within the unmarked, dome-covered capsule opened its eyes. Pale light created by the system switches and panels on each wall allowed them to focus upon the ceiling high above, where sheer alloy reflected a sea of capsules below. It was little to begin with, a small room barely visible, but the sight through those eyes brought infinite joy.

The creature stretched its fingers, savoring the extension of its being as impulses reached the physical matter, enjoying the feeling of the muscular tissues contracting as they received the electromagnetic impulses from its brain.

He reached up and pushed open the capsule, releasing a sibilant hiss of hazy vapors into the cold, stale air.

"Illuminate," he called out in an ancient language. The computer terminals in the wall responded to the sound of his voice, could detect his commands unspoken. No longer immune to requests, the computer obeyed, flooding the room with light, and opened the door as the creature's mind turned to thoughts of finding the Great Bay.

* * * * *

Another morning dawned on the land below. Alessia watched the sun Rigell slowly rising over the Tiasennian horizon with complete detachment. Time passed unending, here in Sesylendae. She felt no pain, no cold, no heat, and yet these would have been the very things that reminded her she was alive. At the same time, she could not die. Hinev's immortality serum pulsed through her veins, had saturated every cell of her body like an elixir, or a poison, that was keeping her alive.

She had not visited the surface in over a hundred years. Transports arrived from the Tiasennian Colonial Directive council sporadically, usually every few years, and representatives from the scientific colonies on the fringes of the Rigell system visited twice a decade. Scientists all the way from Rigell 11 only made the journey once every hundred years or so, if they bothered to at all.

It wasn't that the Tiasennians lacked the technology which might allow more frequent visits; their own space fleet traveled the distance in the blink of an eye. The Tiasennian people simply had no need of their ancient benefactor any more. They could learn no more from her—rather, they had learned all she was willing to offer.

Sesylendae remained a lone sentinel hovering above the mother world, though it seemed always to be in the way; long ago the decision had been made to allow it to stay there, in deference to the enigmatic creature that continued to linger inside, impossibly. The Tiasennians did not believe their benefactor was human, however she appeared. Only a handful of Tiasennians remained with her, though many had left her secret sanctuary, beginning as far back in time as the Great Upheaval, when the surface volcanoes of Tiasenne's twin planet had erupted, reshaping its now volatile and unlivable surface.

For over ten thousand years she had watched the civilization grow beyond the confines of Tiasenne—the most recent colony at Halicos3 made the grand total of terrestrial and space station colonies an even two hundred, something of a milestone; there had been a territory-wide celebration to mark the occasion.

In short, though, the colonials didn't know who she was; nevertheless, they didn't mind ignoring her. History named the creature as Tiasenne's savior—they were all taught to appreciate her for that. However, she was clearly not one of them. No Tiasennian lived beyond a natural lifespan, even as evolution lengthened their lives.

The scientists returned to maintain ties with her, to make the traditional journey and meet the curiosity, the living relic. Enticing away the children of Alessia's supporters also made the trips worthwhile. Each new deserter brought information to revolutionize technology and push progress ahead exponentially. Despite the march of time, there were those who remained faithful to her, generation after generation. Some scientists may have considered this display of devotion to be foolish; at the same time, they acknowledged that without Alessia's loyal retainers, there could be no more deserters.

However, recently, the scientists had more than quadrupled their investigative trips to the Sesylendae.

Alessia knew why; she had been waiting for this to happen, though she had expected it to happen sooner.

After ten thousand years of independence, the Tiasennian Empire had received transmissions from space, from a nearby system beyond the great Dark Nebula. An unknown spaceship had traveled around the dark region and broadcasted signals to the outer Tiasennian colonies. Whether or not the transmission was intended for the colonies or for another race of unknown aliens, or if the message contained a welcome or a warning the Tiasennian scientists did not know. The great minds of Tiasenne couldn't decipher it.

Then a recent explorer probe sent by Tiasennian Headquarters towards the area had severed contact, presumably because it had been destroyed. As soon as this logical deduction was made, the Tiasennians swiftly turned to their living relic for an answer. They turned to her for protection once more, and answers.

Who were these aliens? Alessia had told them, long ago, but their ancestors had ignored the Dark Nebula, as though it protected them from the space beyond, the space it obscured. And most of all they had ignored it because the space surveyors considered the Dark Nebula an unprofitable territory.

Alessia advised her latest visitors to find the original, ancient star chart she had given their ancestors; the Tiasennian scientists finally located it in their archives.

There, clearly marked, was the vast expanse of territory that had once belonged to the lai-nen Empire. Within the amorphous, three-dimensional territory they found their own star, Rigell.

Rigell had once belonged to the lai-nen; the lai-nen who would certainly come back to reclaim it.

The scientists asked Alessia if she would come to the surface to make a report on what she knew of the lai-nen; she, in turn, told them that if they wanted any answers, they would have to come to her ship to get them.

And she wasn't going to change her mind.

They continued to press her; what ludicracy was this?!

She knew they would never understand.

She was tired of them dancing around her, treating her as an oracle. Tired of so much she could never explain to them.

Granted, she hadn't always felt this way about them, or so staunchly about avoiding contact with Tiasenne as it was now. Shortly after the Great Upheaval, when the surface of the twin planet Orian had exploded, showering Tiasenne with asteroids and vaporizing a large part of the Great Eastern Ocean and Southwestern Sea, Alessia, Deras Kesney and Klimyata, and many of Selesta's former refugees had returned to Tiasenne, just outside Inen. There, they had met Ristalv Vaikyure and organized and implemented a restoration program for the survivors on Tiasenne.

They lived on the surface many long years, helping to rebuild the shattered cities and restore the environment; Kesney and his wife never left again. After a century, Tiasenne had almost fully recovered from the Great Upheaval, but many centuries passed before her civilization began to progress beyond its former glory.

In the early years, Alessia had enjoyed living on the healing planet; she felt at home in the freedom of her new life. She watched Kesney's children grow to maturity, wondering where on her journey to Kiel3 Selerael might be. Klimyata's children had called Alessia their aunt, but they could not fill the void in her heart Selerael's departure had created. And while Kesney and Vaikyure lived, Eiron's memory lived. Eighty years healed the surface, and in their own process of healing, already the survivors of Tiasenne tried to forget much of their turbulent past. Only one great glowing moon remained to remind them of Orian. Eiron Vaikyur-Erlenkov and heroes of the former days became shadows of the past, and then completely died away.

After Kesney died, Alessia lost nearly all interest in the present. A few of his children and descendants of the old Baidarka mission scientists returned with her to Sesylendae. After three generations, only a handful of Kesney's line remained with her. Yet every so often, she had been drawn again to the cliffs above the Northwestern Sea which had survived the Orian attack and asteroid rain. A cave buried in the cliff side eluded time, preserving the footprints of a man who had once lingered there before unknowingly leaving his love behind. From there, Alessia wandered down into the cavern deep in the planet's crust to the ancient memorial.

A thousand years after the Great Upheaval, she had known it was to be her last visit. The surface world now encroached upon her private sanctuary; the hum of passenger transports between the new colony and Tiasenne broke the silence every few minutes in the chambers above. Without the artificial light _Selesta_ had once cast above them, the trees in the subterranean caverns had long ago perished, and the graves on the small artificial hill had known no warming light.

Alessia almost took the still from the grave marked "Korten". Casting the illumination lamp upon it, she stared long moments at the woman and child smiling in its small confines. She fingered the picture in her hands, but finally returned it to the metallic plaque where it had lain.

Alessia returned to Sesylendae and never left it again.

* * * * *

Steps sounded outside the door. On the other side of the observation bay, Alessia tore her eyes reluctantly away from the stars that jealously held the answers to the unknown, and she waited as the door opened.

Sargon's spaceship _Enlil_ had returned. Alessia had searched for it through the wide observation window, but the great ship was still ten thousand kilometers away, dead in space.

_Sargon has finally realized where I am, where I have always been_ , she had been thinking indifferently before the intruder approached.

So why hadn't he come yet? She had no energy to fight him, to fight anyone, anymore.

Sesylendae had no great weapons to challenge him, and its electromagnetic and anti-gravitational shields had weakened over the years without _Selesta's_ power to recharge them. Alessia was open and defenseless now, but still he hadn't come.

When she heard the steps approaching, she was sure Sargon had come to confront her at last.

Then a shadow emerged from her far-distant past and stepped into the light.

"Ornenkai!" she whispered in complete surprise, her eye unavoidably fixed on the figure poised in the doorway.

"Yes, Alessia, I have returned. As I promised," Ornenkai replied, in long unheard Seynorynaelian music. There was now no trace of the hollow echo of the _Selesta's_ computer, and yet for the first time she recognized that the voices were one and the same. His voice was one of the most mellifluous she had ever heard, even for Seynorynaelians; it was a voice meant for poetry and singing, not meant to be the dark herald of the Seynorynaelian Empire.

His intelligent eyes were intense and steady, his hair a shock of short curls; he was attractive by any standard, and his limbs still had the appearance of strength. However, the youthful image was shattered by the expression in his ancient eyes, eyes that had known the horrors of a thousand lifetimes and processed them into the soul. Yet the eyes ran over her with a new vigor, reveling in the sight of her as seen through real humanoid eyes for the first time. _At long last_ , the aged eyes said, as though Ornenkai had anticipated the moment of this meeting for a significant portion of his own prolonged existence.

He took a step forward, wincing just slightly, but he kept going, disregarding any pain. She was there before him now. What else mattered but reaching her at last, his final goal? He told himself this; nonetheless, every step towards her clearly brought physical agony. Knives of pain stabbed through his every limb, and aching, throbbing pain washed through his muscles and joints; a hundred thousand years of suspended animation had left his original physical body weak and crippled beyond repair.

Yes, he had found the way back into his own, original, physical body. He had re-channeled his spirit back into the body he had been born into that he had preserved for more than 60,000 years.

The being that had come home to its own body knew that the moment of its expiration approached. Ornenkai knew his original body was dying in suspension for some time, and he did at last wish to die. No more clones, no more machine bodies. There was no way to prevent the death of his original body any longer, and he was fully, painfully aware of it never more than at that moment.

"Alessia, you have to know why I have come back," he surmised. Yet his meaning almost bypassed her; a fine crease formed between her brows. She had not heard her native tongue, nor heard it spoken so beautifully, in more than an aeon. "I fear I am a far less worthy being than you know." Ornenkai continued, scarcely moving. "I cannot deal with my own failure. I have failed myself, and I have failed you, Alessia. I feel it is time I accepted my punishment. I began an evil long ago, and I cannot undo it, Alessia. I have wasted an eternity trying to atone, but the universe is indeed fair—it will not _let_ me atone. Yet I am no longer afraid of facing my conscience. But I would ask your forgiveness now, Alessia. It is the last thing I need, the only thing I beg you to grant me. Perhaps when I meet Death, she will be kinder to me if you plead my case for me. Perhaps I will not face an eternity of punishment."

Alessia stared thunderstruck, listening to Ornenkai in wonder. The harder reality was trying to equate the creature before her with the Elder she had known since her childhood. This—this youth was Ornenkai?! Alessia had never before seen Ornenkai the way he must have been—she had never seen or registered him as a human being! The physical body that faced her had visited the Enorian Havens with Marankeil. Not long afterward, his body had been buried beneath Ariyalsynai in the vaults at the Council Terminus, when Ornenkai became a machine man, or mechanized unit. Marankeil and Ornenkai, Emperor and Vice-Emperor, had channeled their souls into mechanized units, and had lived for millennia as machines. Ornenkai's original body had then been moved sometime aboard _Selesta_ without any of the explorers' knowledge.

"No," she protested blindly, stepping back.

Ornenkai stepped nearer, faltering, and raised a hand out before him. She almost went over to him then, just to stop him from moving through the pain she saw him suffering. Then she recognized his uniform.

No, a Martial Force officer, leader of the earliest Seynorynaelian legions Ornenkai would get no pity from her! she thought, hardening her heart, turning away from him, turning aside from that abandoned, loathed emblem and its eight-point star insignia. Had that ancient league not ruined her life? Hadn't Ornenkai done enough to destroy her? Why should she forgive him for anything!

After a moment, though, involuntarily it seemed, she began to relent. Why had he come? She truly didn't know. And how had he reclaimed his original body after all of these years?

"How did you manage it, Ornenkai?" she asked him, casting aside the thin patina of complacent pride she always raised in defiance of him; she was far too curious to learn the answers she couldn't deduce for herself, all too aware that she had not been this curious in more than ten thousand years. "However did you shed your mechanical shell? However were you able to return to your humble human origins? Your original human body was supposed to have been lost aeons ago."

"Search for the answer," he told her, putting up no resistance to her telepathic power. He embraced her presence in his thoughts. Yes, more than anything, it would please him that she wanted to know his secrets, that at last she would understand them.

He had never gotten rid of his original body, not even when the other Elders did. Hinev had once told him that he could return to it if he wished, so he had kept it. Before he channeled his mind and memories into _Selesta's_ computer, he had put it on board the ship. There he had waited all those years, his body lying dormant; later he had seen to it that the Seynorynaelian survivor Miran Difano, who had loyally remained on board without her knowledge, moved his body into the memorial room, among Hinev's explorers who had so recently died.

Didn't Alessia see that he, Ornenkai, had loved her from the moment he had met her in Hinev's laboratory? He had become a machine by that time, divided between a small mobile android attachment and the main terminal in the Council Terminus, a machine that had learned the true base value of all that his young, human soul had judged worthy or unworthy. What he had once found worthwhile was revealed only empty pursuit; what he had never cared for revealed itself with wisdom as something unattainable and priceless. Since that revelation, the machine he had become disgusted him at every moment, but still he held on to its promise of eternal life.

He had been too afraid to return to a mortal life, back then.

Oh yes, how painfully the beauty of Hinev's young assistant in both body and mind had reminded him of the humanity he had carelessly forsaken. He had wanted to be with her. She had rekindled his own memories of mortal life and with them, his emotions, emotions that had proved the end of him but had also brought him back to life. The council of Elders' inhumanity had drawn them into a lifeless existence, an existence of evil deeds and racial genocide; Ornenkai alone had broken free to a reality that was worth living. And had set himself the task of destroying the Empire and atoning for his sins.

What had he done for the sake of those noble feelings? When at last Hinev had discovered what Marankeil sought to no avail—the ability to transmit his being into another human body—Ornenkai was given the power he needed to have destroyed Kiel and transferred his own mind into Kiel's body. Nonetheless, in the end, Ornenkai found himself unable to carry out the transferal. He couldn't steal Kiel's body. He would sacrifice himself instead to protect the crew.

To stay with Alessia and to guide her he became instead the sentient soul of _Selesta_. To do that, he had betrayed his oldest friend, Marankeil.

Alessia was amazed by this thought, completely surprised by his feelings and beliefs. She had never suspected that Ornenkai loved her in all these years. Ornenkai, the proud Elder, the dilpomat, war leader, scientist and philosopher, the Vice-Emperor of an intergalactic empire that had spanned seven galaxy groups—he had become a part of _Selesta_ because he wanted her to save him from damnation, and because he loved her and wanted to be near her! For such a thing to have happened—it struck her with all the force of a miracle.

He had loved her all this time? Then how had he taken her daughter from her?

"Where is _Selesta?_ " she thought, but no one knew what _Selesta_ was, much less where. Alessia couldn't see the ship, but she knew it was out there now, if Ornenkai had been able to reach her. And that meant— Her heart seemed to leap in her breast.

At long last... Selerael had returned!

Ornenkai made a slight noise, drawing her attention back to him.

Could it be true that Ornenkai had never really betrayed her? she wondered and searched her memory of the secret meetings Marankeil had called her to attend, searched for something to reproach him with, something he had done to betray her while he kept his love a secret, but she found no Ornenkai among the faces that had goaded her while she was at their mercy.

Ornenkai had never tormented her in her training days. From the early days of Hinev's experiments on her, the mechanized entity had attempted only friendliness, but because of her own suspicion of the council, she had shied away from him, ignored him. All those years alone on _Selesta_ , he had remained her constant companion, had witnessed the greatest tragedies of her life—the death of Kiel and the other explorers, and the assault on Tiasenne that had killed Eiron.

Could it be that she had not been alone, as she had thought these many years? Lord above, what a comfort it was to make the discovery, even so late! Ornenkai remembered the old glory of Seynorynael, years before even she had been born. He had witnessed every phase of the rising Empire and the destruction of their home world. He had remained in her life when those she had loved most were lost to her.

And here he was, this young-old man with a face of an angel, a face that had not yet known, that had thought never to know, crime, guilt, or regret on that day when it was suspended so long ago.

Ornenkai had come a third of the way across the bay when his knees gave out with a horrible crunching sound. He simply crashed to the ground, without even the strength to soften his fall. Registering a sudden pang in her gut, Alessia cried out, but she found that even now, she still hesitated.

Was he not a friend? She chastised herself, still able to reason intuitively. Had he not been a friend for so many years? Yes, he had. Despite what he had done, despite all of his mistakes, using the nano-implant to control her and sever her from Selerael, despite what she had vowed so long ago when they parted the last time, a vow never to forgive him, she found herself able to forgive him now.

The time for regrets and grudges had passed.

Ornenkai's face twisted in pain. She saw that he was clutching his chest.

Her self-composure broke in that moment; it disintegrated utterly like a fragile ship torn to pieces by the fury of a sudden storm. She rushed to his side, her will submitting entirely to the power of human emotion.

"I hope that was not too painful." She crooned. Was there anything she could do to save him?! she thought desperately.

"No, Alessia," Ornenkai called out weakly, but still with a shadow of the authority his voice had once commanded; he struggled as she tried to hold his arms, his eyes still unreadable but burning with an integrity of spirit that could catch a field on fire. "Don't cry on my account," he ordered, reaching up to dry the tear that slid down her cheek. "I never sought your _pity_ before, and I shall not do so now. I've far outlived my natural Time. I've been waiting for fate to release me from this world for many years, but I couldn't let myself die without achieving what I thought was our destiny." He choked on the words, as though he had recognized something ironically; how many years had he denied Fate? Had he not believed in the power of humanity's freedom of choice and the complete control of the self and of one's own destiny for years beyond count?

She smiled at him, her smile like a dream he wouldn't let go. Did she know she had this power over him? He wondered. He doubted she would ever know.

"I was wrong all this time, believing in a legend." He admitted bitterly. "I think I began to realize that on this last journey from Kiel3. I only ever wanted... to have your approval, even more than to destroy the Empire..." his voice trailed off.

"I know," Alessia said. "You did what you thought was right. Oh, Ornenkai, dear friend you and I, we would have felled an Empire together, if only I had been stronger. If I forgive you, you must forgive me that I had not the courage to keep to our mission—"

"A mission I forced upon you, a foolish mission." He said bitterly.

"No, don't defend me, Ornenkai. I could have chosen to follow the mission, or to abandon it utterly, and yet my crime was that I could not choose at all, for I wanted more than anything to be free from the obligation entirely. Ornenkai, dear Ornenkai, please say that you forgive me."

"And then shall we part in peace?" he sighed. "No, not in peace. I do not die quietly, but only because I have struggled long enough. I forgive you. What was there to forgive? I never begrudged you your happiness here, only that I could not share it. And do you forgive me?"

"Yes, at last, I do," she nodded. "For all your crimes, you've done what you could to atone—"

"Have I?" his voice sounded lost, as he lay in her arms, helpless as a child, content to lie there forever. She could say this, not knowing what beliefs he had once championed before she ever knew him, not even caring about them.

"All this time, I was wrong about you, Ornenkai. I'm sorry. I shall miss you. More than you know. I already have, you see, through all the time you have been gone, though I never thought I would."

Her kindness, her gentle expression captured his eyes. It was real, this love she possessed. Her love was great and whole. Believing this love existed at last—yes, he gasped, he did believe—this was his blissful reward.

"Yes," she assured him, sensing what he needed to hear to be at peace, surprising herself that she meant every word. "No one can fault you for trying to make amends. You sacrificed so much that even I cannot fault you any more. And, Ornenkai, you were not entirely responsible for the Fate of the galaxy, nor is it entirely your fault that our planet's Empire was born. You did not work alone."

"Alessia—"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I know." She swallowed a lump in her throat.

He smiled at her, a bare, contented smile, as his body relaxed in her arms.

"Good-bye... Ornenkai, my friend," Alessia whispered, and he was gone.

* * * * *

After some time, Alessia released the empty body she held tightly against her. As she did so, the world, too, was suddenly nothing but emptiness all around her. She took Ornenkai's hands and arms and rested them gently at his sides, carefully arranging his posture as best she could to do justice to his memory.

The dampness of her tears was still evident in the curling locks across his brow, now cold and still, horribly still.

She felt the distance between herself and the emptiness of Ornenkai's body acutely. Where was he? Why should he be gone? Where had he gone without her now, after all the time they had spent together?

Then she called together her companions aboard Sesylendae for the memorial to Ornenkai. A few preservation capsules remained in the ship's storage holds, but she chose not to use them. Ornenkai would be cremated, his ashes set free into space to become the lifeblood of stars, planets, and nebulae.

How ironic it was to her how Ornenkai had returned. He had waited for the reunion with Alessia that in the end lasted but a moment; she too had waited. Ten thousand years had come and gone, and still their mission was not finished. Would it ever be fulfilled now? She had no energy left for another long journey across space without him, without the other explorers.

She now had other plans. The day before Selesta left her, Alessia felt she might have discovered a way to thwart the serum and secure her own release from the physical world. She had created another anti-serum using Gerryls' notes. But she could not instigate the final test until she had seen her daughter again.

Yes, she would see Selerael one more time.

_Then, Ornenkai_ , she thought, _it shall be my turn to follow you_.

When the memorial began, it was Alessia who carried the incineration torch to the body of Ornenkai and lit the fire beside him; the others stepped back, fearful of the combustive power of the alien torch. Brilliant blue flames began to consume the body of Ornenkai, as Alessia silently watched him turn to dust.

Then, after a moment, the fire died out. With a sweep of her arms and using her telekinetic power, Alessia gathered the grey ashes of Ornenkai in swirling arcs up into her hands. She clenched her fists around them, her eyes compressing shut. Then, without looking at the others, she went alone to the air lock to scatter his ashes.

And she was the only one who knew what silent words she delivered to the stars when she released the dust of Ornenkai, once Vice-Emperor of the Seynorynaelian Empire, to his final rest among the stars.

When she returned from the air lock, solemn faces met hers, but the others didn't understand where the man had come from or who he had been. She felt a bitter pang of emptiness that they did not know this and never would know. How the man had arrived without detection puzzled them—and Alessia herself, though she no longer cared about that. Even after all these years, Ornenkai had kept a final trick up his sleeve. Overshadowed by Marankeil and later by Hinev, the great scientist Ornenkai had often been forgotten.

The others only knew that at last someone had managed to break the stony silence surrounding Alessia, that someone had evinced an emotion from her, and such a depth of emotions that it was hardly to be believed!

Now that Ornenkai had been set free, it was time to find Selerael.

* * * * *

The Great Leader of the Orian race, Sargon, had returned to his private quarters shortly after the _Enlil_ arrived in orbit above Tiasenne. Without a word, he had left his bridge crew wondering what to do.

The observation window in his private quarters encompassed one hundred and eighty degrees horizontal to their position and sixty degrees vertical. The planet Tiasenne filled the view; across its surface, a small craft crossed the equator, heading towards the sunrise.

_Sesylendae_. Sargon smiled sardonically. _So, it is true. Alessia gave up the Selesta and has been on the Sesylendae all this time_. But then who was she, the woman he had first seen through Iriken's eyes and then on the surface? She was a Seynorynaelian woman beyond question. A subordinate of Alessia's no doubt—but perhaps even Alessia hadn't known that the woman survived whatever had killed the Seynorynaelians. Alessia had told him she lived in but a small corner of _Selesta._

What torture it was that he remembered those days of his childhood on Tiasenne so clearly! That beautiful planet. How he hated the leaders of those days, and how he adored his childhood memories there.

From a distance Sargon could appreciate the advances in technology Tiasenne's survivors had achieved, _with Alessia's help, no doubt_ , he thought. The _Enlil_ had received a flood of radio waves upon arriving in the Rigell system, from an estimated two hundred nearby sources. He had left them masters of the Rigell system, and they had flourished in his absence, like a mass of mindless ants!

As Sargon surveyed the surface of a new great Empire, the glowing red moon slowly appeared over Tiasenne's horizon. All that remained of the planet Orian.

The image had haunted him these many years, and yet he had thought himself beyond tears for his motherland.

He had not cared that time had passed on _Enlil,_ that his people remembered their past only through his eyes and through the simulacra generated in the inculcation cocoons. But he could not bear it that Tiasenne should forget what had been, that billions of people lived without comprehending their past, that they might spread across the universe with a technology easier to attain than enlightenment, that they might make the same mistakes a thousand times more.

He shook off the feeling. He had but one purpose—what did it matter that Tiasenne thrived while his own people wandered space?

He watched for signs of life from the small craft Sesylendae, but Alessia made no attempt to flee. Sargon knew _Selesta_ had emerged in Rigell airspace, that Alessia might be able to escape and return to her ship. He had no intention of allowing any craft to rendezvous with the great vessel, but he could wait until the envoy arrived.

Finally a spot appeared on the ship's radar—a shuttle too small to maintain invisibility. At last _Selesta_ had revealed herself, but he could do nothing to her, and he would not destroy any ship leaving her, only those that attempted to return. He could not take the chance that Alessia would get away.

Minutes later, he watched the Sesylendae swallow up the tiny emissary.

Sargon turned away from the image and left the observation window, his even steps echoing down the long metal corridor.

He would never come back.

He was going to find Alessia.

* * * * *

Moments after the memorial ended, Alessia felt the approach of the craft speeding towards Sesylendae. Selerael!

While the others were still gathered about her, the shuttle docked in the cargo bay.

"Don't be alarmed." Alessia assured her companions. She told them that the unannounced emissary was not unexpected. When the door opened to the main observation window, they quietly took their leave, curiously regarding the strange assembly before them: a woman at the fore dressed in a pale blue flight uniform decorated with triangles and swirls, a few of the others similarly attired, some wearing maroon, some in navy.

"Selerael!" Alessia cried. Selerael felt as if the room were filled with electricity as she rushed to embrace her mother.

The group numbered about twelve, and all but one were recognizably humanoid. The large, furry grey alien that flanked them wore an unusual green garb, but the impossible ruddy hue of the humanoids' skin shocked them more than anything else; at least they looked like humans, but their skin was the color of clay soil. Only one man appeared remotely like a Tiasennian. The woman who had been in front, however, was nearly a mirror image of Alessia.

_I see there is much I need to explain_ , Alessia told her, trying to organize her thoughts.

_Holding you at long last is enough for me, mother_ , Selerael thought, suppressing questions, questions about the visions that had haunted her through life, visions even the computer could not explain; she would not have understood the computer until today, with her memory returned to her. Selerael had never been taught to control her mind energies and telepathy, and though Ornenkai had reached her, he could not pull her into his memories that might have offered an explanation. Only Selerael could have gone into his computerized mind, but she had not known how.

"Sshh." Alessia said. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Alessia held Selerael tightly, exultant in that moment, in their reunion. At the same time, she knew what she had to do. Now that Selerael had regained her memories, it was time she understood. Knowledge, yes, knowledge was power. Power to defend oneself against the universe, and power to protect the weak who must survive. What was it for, but to preserve the hidden potential that is in all life? It was time for Selerael to learn her purpose, for every being must possess such a motive before it can know itself.

Selerael had never known herself, or what her purpose was, or why she had been taken from Tiasenne; at the very least she deserved an explanation for what had happened to her as a child.

Without moving, Alessia reached out telepathically to guide Selerael's consciousness through the space between them; in that split-second, Alessia steeled herself against the coming onslaught of her deepest memories, memories she had forcefully suppressed to keep their power from affecting her.

_You will see my memories, and you will understand_. Alessia thought to her.

Yes, the mindlink between mother and daughter would teach Selerael what she needed to know.

And for Alessia, the mindlink was going to bring all her memories back.

**Dramatis Personae and places in** _Across the Stars:_

Aidan Faulkner—a geneticist from Sydney; a man with Napoleonic ambitions who began an investigation of the Earth government cover-up regarding the alien spaceship Selesta, discovered Erin-Mathieson's identity as an alien, and injected her blood, infused with Hinev's serum, into his own body

Alastair Cameron—a brilliant, crotchety, and pessimistic astrophysicist; Zhdanov's mentor

Alessia Zadúmchov—Uh-LESS-ee-yuh Zuh-DOOM-chav—last survivor of Hinev's explorers and biological mother of the child Selerael

Caelan Arthur Kansier—a heroic, self-composed aeronavy man who becomes the Captain of the _Stargazer_ and later the _Discovery_

Cameron Zhdanov—grandson of Zhdanov; friend of Adam Dimitriev's

Catherine Cresson—Dimitriev's estranged fiancée

Elphor—a planet; former territory of the Seynorynaelian Empire

Enor—EE-norr—a legendary planet, the civilization from which the lost Enorians have come

Erik Flynn Ross—a hotheaded pilot chosen for Arnaud's infiltration team; one of the Blue Stripes assigned to the Discovery

Etienne Charbonneau—one of Arnaud's infiltration team members

Fynals Hinev—FAI-nahlss HAI-nev—the scientist who created the elixir of immortality known as "Hinev's serum"; one of Kudenka's explorers

Fielikor Kiel—Fee-YEL-ee-kor Keel—once leader of Hinev's explorers, the subject of a holo-still discovered by an Earth recon team inside the alien spacecship the Earth calls Discovery

Goeur—Gerr, like the French, "coeur"—a lost colony; also a planet the Earthlings discover and liberate from the current Emperor of Goeur

Gordon Hilbert—the United Earth Security Council Secretary/President

Ian Tipler—an intractable, cold-mannered representative on the United Earth Security Council

Iriken Ilyriphon Zirnenka—EER-ee-ken il-LEER-i-fahn Zeer-NENG-kuh—Orian pilot who becomes Great Leader Sargons' advisor, the Garen; a very distant relation of Sargon

Hans Rheinhardt—one of the Blue Stripes assigned to the Discovery

Ho-ling Chen—one of the Blue Stripes assigned to the Discovery

Ho-win Cheung—a research scientist

Kamia—a planet and former territory of the Seynorynaelian Empire

Lake Firien—Lake FEAR-ee-enn—large body of water on planet Seynorynael and the name of a remote province; location of The Firien Project, a project to rebuild an ancient ruined spaceship that the ancients called "Selesta"

lom-vaia—a planet discovered by the lost Enorian, Zanka

lyra—LEER-uh— the beautiful, mysteriously undying trees of Seynorynael; a formerly abundant, seeded, but now fruitless tree that can no longer be replaced once destroyed

Erika Ilyria Zirnenka—Mahl-TAY-nuh—Iriken's "sister"; one of the Orian elite children grown in the same ectogenic batch as Iriken Zirnenka

Mara Ricna—one of Arnaud's infiltration team members

Marankeil—MAIR-enn-KEE-il—the mechanized Elder who became the eternal Emperor of Seynorynael

Orian—may-LARR—the mysterious planet where the Orians came from

Miralah—a young Kamian female

Enlil—Mai-LENN-varr—the Orian, or "Charon aliens'", space battleship designed after Selesta

Nathalie Quinn—one of the Blue Stripes assigned to the Discovery

Nikolai Kaganov-Kudenko—one of the Blue Stripes assigned to the Discovery

Ornenkai—ORR-nen-kai—once the Vice-Emperor of the Seynorynaelian Empire, now a helpless computerized entity trapped aboard Selesta; a man obsessed with the destruction of the Seynorynaelian Empire and in finding the Enorian singularity on Kiel3

Robert Forren—a doctor living on the Discovery

Saira Knightwood—Verr-AY-duh—a feisty Earth scientist

Sakar—a planet and former territory of the Seynorynaelian Empire

Sargon Maxarien Suraeno—SAR-gahn Mack-ZAR-ee-en Ser-AY-no—the Great Leader of the Orians, known as the "Charon aliens" on the Earth

Adam—Selerael's son; a man half-alien and half-Earthling, who is born with Hinev's serum in his veins and telepathic abilities

Scott Alexander Dimitriev—a young, heroic American navigator who becomes the co-captain of the Discovery

Selerael—Sel-AIR-ay-el; more often Seh-LAIR-ee-el—alien child who infiltrates the Earth looking for a powerful Enorian singularity, who takes on the identity of Erin Mathieson

Sergei Zhdanov—Jh-DAHN-ahv—an honorable, fair-minded Earth scientist

Seynorynael—Say-NOR-i-nay-el; often Seh-nor-i-NAY-el, Seh-NOR-i-nay-el—the planet where Hinev's explorers came from, once the founder of an intergalactic Federation and Empire

Susumu Kusao—one of the Nezumirii pilots chosen for Arnaud's infiltration team and later assigned to the Discovery

Selesta—Sil-lerr-ESS-tee-uh—the greatest explorer spaceship ever to be built by the Seynorynaelian Empire, with a computer that seems to have a mind of its own; the spaceship which the Earth scans and claims for its own and renames "Discovery"

Tiernan—TEER-nuhn—a former colony of the Federation, now the center of the Elphoran civilization

Tulor—too-LORR—plane close to the heart of the old Seynorynaelian Federation

Valeria—Vuh-LAIR-ee-uh—blue-white star of the planet Seynorynael that supernovaed in antiquity, destroying Seynorynael

Zariqua Enassa—ZAR-ee-kuh/ ZAIR-ee-kuh Ee-NASS-suh—the last colonizer of the planet Enor and Alessia's father; Sargon's name for Alessia

