

### The Chronicles of Heaven's War:

### Book III

### Blood Moon Rising

©Ava D. Dohn, 2016

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TABLE OF CONTENTS:

SECTION ELEVEN **:** Chasing **Shadow Dreams**

SECTION TWELVE **:** Angel **on Fire**

SECTION THIRTEEN **:** Finding **Future's Past**

SECTION FOURTEEN **:** Children **of Blood, Fire, and Storm**

SECTION FIFTEEN **: So** Doth **the Kriggerman Cry**

SECTION ELEVEN **:**

Chasing Shadow Dreams

The woman stared out the portal, deep into the reaches of space - the planets and stars that made up the Trizentine - and it was her job to help protect the people of that region. It had been a long, exhausting day, filled with all the responsibilities that come with officering five hundred soldiers. Darla was tired, but satisfied with her work. As she gazed through the tiny window, little did she realize how much the world around her was changing, and it was largely because of her.

Somewhere, in the near distant past, she had stood before the Lord of the Rebellion and forced his hand. A little ripple in the sands of a cold, dark, desert planet was becoming a raging wave, sweeping over the galaxy, forever changing the lives of countless millions.

"Yea! How can we watch from afar when our little sister is devoured by wolves? We shall march to the sound of the drums to win back her honour! We shall willingly die to set all matters right!"

On the eve of the last prisoner exchange, Lowenah told her youngest daughter, "You are like a pebble thrown into a reedy pool. The disturbance caused by its splash will have far-reaching effects."

That child's public ordeal at the hands of Lowenah's oldest son, Asotos, moved the collective moral conscience of those in the First Realm as no other thing had ever managed. As if groggily rising from some drunken stupor, the entire universe was waking to reality and shaking off its former illusions of complacency and indifference. The realization of who the oldest child had really become was beginning to sink in. To publicly attempt the destruction of an innocent mind for no reason other than selfish desire had pushed their limits of tolerance beyond the breaking point. No honest person could find an excuse for Asotos' actions. There was no longer any defense for the man's violence committed against his brothers and sisters.

Lowenah's children were beginning to comprehend their own future should this Asotos gain rulership over them. Although claiming they had freedom, he would dictate according to his personal whims. His laws would be emplaced to control the actions of others. But unlike Lowenah, who lived within the confines of any rules made, Asotos would do as he pleased, placing himself above law. Should he so viciously attack one of least and most inexperienced among them, as he had Darla, was there any safety to be found for the others?

If love hadn't moved them before, and if it wasn't moving them now, at least self-preservation was jolting the people to action. As the outcry over Asotos' attack on Darla and the atrocities against the crew of Zephath echoed across the galaxy, a new energy filled the hearts of Lowenah's children. War was coming. And if Asotos was not defeated, everyone surviving would be enslaved for as long as the universe remained. Freedom would disappear forever. Preventing such a thing from happening rested on their shoulders. The fate of all future history and all past life lay in their hands.

'Beat your plowshares into swords and your pruning shears into axes,' was the cry being sounded across the star-systems. And countless numbers of volunteers were heeding that call. They came in ones and twos - sometimes entire colonies. Most had never lifted a hand in anger against another, and now they were prepared to kill or be killed. Billions were gathering to this coming day of slaughter, one that was to make the Great War appear as though but a small skirmish.

"...And one man's hand will be found to be against his brother." "And to the god of fortresses they will lift up their might." Lowenah had inspired prophets of old to utter such words, but her children hadn't realized the personal implications until now. As they pondered their circumstances, the shocking reality of those prophecies fulfilled was becoming evident.

The machinery of war was beginning to turn. Industries that had only produced items for comfort and delight were now swiftly converting to manufacturing weapons of destruction. Night and day, acrid clouds of smoke billowed from furnaces fired by the 'fuels of Hell' in order to equip an army attempting to save the Heavens. Ancient works of art and contrivances made for their amusement and pleasure were being torn down and fed into the smelters' pots, while huge machines were created to dig into the galaxy's planets to retrieve riches buried there, all this done to support the new soldier recruits gathering for war.

And yes, it would be a 'man's hand against his brother'. This was a 'family feud', a 'blood-battle' - two opposing sides, all siblings and one-time lovers. Death would rule the day. There was no alternative. They must drive Asotos and his armies from this Realm or destroy them. If they failed, all hope would be lost. The one called 'brother' was no longer a term for blood in the flesh. It was reserved for the person sharing the same passion and willingness to sacrifice all to accomplish this one paramount purpose.

Rhiannon had 'pitched her stone into the sea' and the tempest was only beginning to boil up. Few could see what it would engulf before exhausting itself upon a ruined land. And a ruined land it was to be...millions of lives snuffed out and countless cities buried in smoldering rubble. Centuries would be needed to rebuild their world and many more to forget...if they ever could. Yet it was going to happen, causing those involved to release a collective sigh. The day had come at last. The suspense was over. Now duty begged them on to whatever destiny awaited them.

And the one used to start it all could not even see herself as that stone. Her heart could not comprehend that she was the vortex now pulling those billions into a war that would change the universe forever. She was not able to understand how anyone would consider her precious enough to be willing to make such sacrifices or even die for her.

That woman continued staring out the portal, oblivious to the effect her previous actions at the prisoner exchange had on people around her. She was unaware of the extent her mother had gone to in order to provide a cure for the child's demonic sickness. She was unaware of the great cost such a cure would demand. She was also unaware of the eyes that were constantly watching her every move...

* * *

"I do understand the shortages we currently face, but I cannot perform my duties unless more ships and equipment are allotted me." Sarah had argued her needs for most of the morning and growing frustration over the moment reflected in her voice.

Indeed, the entire council was feeling pressure from lack of needed supplies and qualified leaders to organize the vast host of newly arrived volunteers. Mihai was not used to being the focus of such demands. For two millennia, she had commanded the armies and navies defending the Empire. Now, as its king, she was finding her new role more taxing than her old. Without Lowenah's direct support, she felt so alone, knowing that the weight of her decisions could contribute to their defeat or victory in the coming war.

Frustrated, Sarah slammed her fist on the table. "My duty is to disrupt the enemy and disable its communications and transportation systems! I cannot do that without the weapons to do so! How can I create the WolfPack without the wolves to do it? Howling in the hills will not scatter the flock!"

Jebbson Garlock silently stood up, bending forward, placing his hands on the table, patiently waiting until Mihai recognized him. "Cheap and dirty!" rolled off his tongue as he turned his head to and fro, watching expressions of confusion and wonder at his comment. After satisfying himself he had everyone's attention, he explained, "The objective of war is to gain a victory over the enemy. It is not a time to see how safe or secure we can construct something. Tools of war should be designed, first, to destroy our enemy and second, hopefully, not ourselves at the same time.

"Vessels of war need not be comfortable or attractive...niceties I have found you people have often lavished upon your creations." He eyed some of Lowenah's older children who, at this war council meeting, still favored overly ornate and ponderous garb. "In the wars I have witnessed, the use of the soldier was to become part of the killing machine. Function was of primary importance. If the cost of victory was the ruin of the machine, then the loss was acceptable. The attempt was to build one that would endure the battle. But it was better to have something to put in a line, even if it should fail, than to have no line at all."

Jebbson squinted. Leaning forward and scanning the room, he exclaimed, "In my old country's own great civil war, we built a warship in ninety days that made all the navies of the world of that day obsolete overnight. It was small, cramped, hot, and dangerous for its crew. Yet it saved our navy from destruction and possibly won us the war. It was a fool's dream and it worked! Many other fool's dreams failed, but if we hadn't tried 'em all, we wouldn't have found the one that succeeded." He nodded. "At least that fool's dreams gave us something to put in the field...and that contributed greatly to our winning that war."

Mihai interrupted, asking, "So how does your insight help us at this moment, not ninety days from now?"

Jebbson was quick to reply. "We have thousands of derelicts, old freighters, pleasure craft, and ancient fighters. Throw your crews into 'em. Have 'em fix 'em up, paint 'em up, and equip 'em best they can. And give the crews a few weeks to try 'em out. Sure, we will lose many to the enemy, but if we have enough of 'em in the field, they'll be like ants scurrying around an anthill. How do you squash 'em all?"

Jebbson raised his hand, shaking it, pointing a finger, exclaiming, "A bee in a man's drawers is worth ten-thousand buzzing around the tree! You stuff a thousand of Sarah's hornets down Asotos' pants, and he'll be too busy to think clearly 'bout his own war plans. It buys us time to build a real fleet, and..." He eyed Gabrielle and, alluding to Sophia, mildly chided, "It won't take ten years to do it, either."

An excited voice assaulted Mihai's ears as Sarah bent low, hands on the table, eyes afire with anticipation, demanding, "A good captain must command in the field...and I'll take anything else you have! I'll give you the hornets if you give me the crews to man them!"

Gabrielle interrupted, asking Sarah, "What do you require of those who make up your derelict crews?"

There was no uncertainty in Sarah's mind as to the kind of soldier she wanted. "They have to be willing to face death with a grin! They have to be willing to kill without regret! They have to be willing to depart for their tour of duty with no consideration of a returning!"

A sadness swept across Gabrielle's face as she peered into Mihai's eyes, her own smoky-gray eyes mirroring her feelings. Finally, turning back to Sarah, in a quiet, somber voice she replied, "I will send your request to those in the fleets. You will get your crews."

Sarah said nothing and slowly sat, a look of lonely satisfaction on her face. Although not yet having lived a total of eighty years, there were few who rivaled her knowledge and experience when it came to fighting and dying. The men and women she had personally executed in the arena blurred into an unnumbered, faceless mass of souls who were either not quick enough, or were unlucky enough to be caught by her blade.

Since her arrival in this place, Sarah had spent several years acting in the role of an assassin. She felt a deep remorse - not over the demise of all those lives she had extinguished - but at seeing Gabrielle, admiral of the Navy, troubled over the future loss of so many of her people while she, Sarah, was unable to feel the same, her heart allowing for no such nicety.

"This may be all well and good, but little does it satisfy my needs." Everyone turned toward Field Marshal Trisha, who all morning had remained quiet, sitting at the far end of the large, oval, council table. She now stood, already dressed for war, wearing the sea-green uniform of the Army. Her long-sleeved tunic was covered with a vest of burnished chain-mail, secured at her waist with a four-inch wide leather belt. On her right side was clipped a pair of gray gauntlet gloves. Across her middle, the same belt holstered a gun similar to the sidearm Jebbson carried to the Prisoner exchange, and on her left side was fastened the same sword she wore the fateful night she confronted Sarah in the warehouse. She also cloaked herself with the long, flowing cape worn at the Prisoner exchange.

Trisha waited, silently, for the right moment. No expression showed on her face except for a raging fire burning in her coal-black eyes. Like a distant storm rumbling, she finally broke the silence. "When the hour arrives, I will have a million troopers invading MueoPoros. There will little time to secure the bridgehead and deliver supplies before a counterattack will likely come. If I cannot put down a large enough army, along with its heavy armor and supplies, we may lose our foothold. There must be enough transports to supply the army that is already collecting at Oros."

She glanced back and forth, between Gabrielle and Mihai. "I trust that the Navy will provide needed support. Until we can deposit our own air-arm on the planet, we will be resting upon the good will of the Navy to protect us. But even if the Navy were to collect all its supply ships together for our use, it would be insufficient for our needs."

Mihai queried, "How many transport ships will it take to satisfy your needs?"

"Ten-thousand! And that's if you give me ones large enough to effectively do the job," Trisha shot back.

Mihai leaned forward, lowering her head in dismay, wondering, "And should one gather all the vessels that rest in all the seas, would a man find the number you seek?"

Trisha anxiously retorted, "And how long can the mightiest warrior stand alone in battle? A mountain of straw will smother a blaze, but a handful can only fuel one. I do not seek more than my needs. If you do not wish to visit death upon your brothers, you will find me those ships!"

Before Mihai could recover from Trisha's verbal blow, another hand flew into the air, its owner seeking an audience. Taqa Esem (meaning 'one who breaks bones'), one of the three admirals of the Crimson Fleet, rose to make reply. Looking at Trisha, he offered, "To us it has been given that there rests in our hands several vessels that have proved to be home to us for many ages of time. They are large and stout, but too slow for war. My people cannot use them to fight. For you, if you choose, we can offer them for your use. When emptied, each may carry five thousand well-supplied warriors. We proudly possess over one hundred of these machines. They are yours, along with able crews, if you desire them."

Admiral Taqa Esem reflected well the kind of people the Tarezabarians had become. They were ancient, having lived many ages longer than most of Lowenah's other children. Mihai was called 'a child of the Second Age', that is she was born during the time preparation was being made to prepare a planet in what would become known as the Second Realm as a repository for life. Taqa Esem had lived many times the length of her life. Why, Mihai had at one time believed that the story of the Tarezabarians was a tale made up by the older children in order to fill the hearts of the younger with a desire to reach out to the stars.

Their simplistic philosophy of life and possessions could be seen in the admiral's attire. He wore only a long gray cape and cap, both newly woven from what appeared to be what Jebbson would call 'coarse homespun'. Hanging from a leather thong that crossed over from his right shoulder down to his left hip, a short sword made of a strange metallic material dangled in a loose-fitting sheath. Attached to the thong was a small purse, nestled close to the sword hilt, completing his wardrobe.

The Tarezabarians had lived a very peaceful life. Not one of them knew the experience of facing an enemy. Taqa Esem's name was not related to any violence, other than say, in his eagerness once to grapple over some hard candy while having shared a little too much wine, he broke several teeth as he recklessly crunched it.

When the Tarezabarians decided to join in ridding the universe of Asotos and his hordes, all the peoples gathered together at one place and went into weeping and mourning over the loss of their own innocence. For three months, they lamented the life they were losing, because all of them understood that war would destroy the memories of the past and would forever darken the dreams of the future. To these people, death had already arrived upon them. Their old lives were gone and could never be recaptured.

Trisha's shoulders relaxed as the tension eased in her back. She thanked the admiral for his generous offer. The anxiety over finding needed transports pressed upon her mind ever since Lowenah's final council meeting. These one hundred ships were a major help, yet combined with the others they already possessed, still inadequate. Speaking in a subdued tone of urgency, she again addressed Mihai. "My Lord, I am still in dire straits. Men without equipment will last little time on the planet. Even with Admiral Taqa Esem's blessed gift, we fall far short of all the military, logistical and other support craft needed to make this operation a success."

Jebbson quickly stood up, raising his hand to get attention. Mihai offered him the floor. "I believe there is a solution to this dilemma that could be quickly afforded. First, let me describe to you an observation on my part. Over the many years of combat, there has come an evolution in ship design. Three hundred years ago, you built a powerful fighting machine, Chisamore...one of the best for its time. It displaced twenty thousand tonnes and was a fighting marvel. Yet, by today's standards, it pales in stature to the new birds of the sky. Why, Sophia displaces two-hundred thousand and carries a complement of nearly seven thousand soldiers and crew."

He waited a moment for the others to consider the comparison before building on his statement. "What you have created is breathtaking, yet it is also an expensive luxury that could be taken out of commission by one well-placed missile. My friends, it is far easier to kill an elephant than a nest of rats." He watched quizzical looks growing on the others' faces. "OK, consider this fact." He turned his attention to Gabrielle. "I understand that Sophia is to be your new flagship, correct?"

Gabrielle nodded in the affirmative.

"Tell me, please," Jebbson queried, "how many of our other precious naval vessels will you sequester to care for it and protect it?"

Gabrielle was caught unprepared. Her eyes darted to and fro as she pondered the meaning of his question.

Jebbson shot out his own reply. "That ship of yours is stealing over seventy of our most valuable fighting and transport ships...vessels which could be used to fill other needed gaps in our defenses, or patrol, or be of advantage in other arenas of this conflict. And what's sad about this is Sophia will always need a support group of that magnitude to maintain its safety."

He waved his arm. "That taskforce is like a giant, fallen tree lodged in the middle of a raging river. It's not big enough to stop the flood, so the flood just slides around it, tearing away other soil to make way for its surge. Why do you think that beaver build their dams out of twigs? And have you ever tried to remove one of 'em? Why, by the next day, it has reappeared and, in short order, it is again as strong as before.

"How many of these carrier taskforces do we have? I understand there are close to twenty. I also realize that most are not the size of Sophia's battle fleet. Yet you have tied up close to forty percent of all your firepower, protecting your white elephants while you leave dangerous gaps in your defense screens throughout the Empire. I have discovered one great truism: the larger your machine of war, the more vulnerable it becomes and so the more protection it requires. The fatter the man, the bigger the chair he needs.

"Now please don't misunderstand. I see a value to having battle groups with massive firepower...but not in defensive actions. Our field marshal will happily accept such support when we trip the hammer, but if she is to remain safe from future attacks above, you will be forced to maintain the fleet in the vicinity, thus removing it from further action."

Jebbson watch the peoples' eyes. He could see their quandary and had expected it. The theory of the 'ship of line', of massed naval powers slugging it out, still clouded their minds. Since the days of the carrack, where ships were designed to slam one another, ramming bows through the hulls of their hapless victims, Lowenah's children had been fixated on huge machines of war.

He gave an observation. "My friends, as I slept in the Field of the Minds, you waged a terrible battle. I have been told of the valor displayed on the Day of Tears, and have come to see that the battle exhausted your power in men and machines. Thousands of burned and broken hulks still choke the skies where it was fought. Countless lives lost attest to the unquestioned bravery of your brothers and sisters in their determination to defeat the enemy. But please tell me, what did it accomplish? The battle was little more than two great space armies hammering away at each other in a slugfest with no other objective in mind than destruction of the opponent.

"In the coming war, Asotos will not waste his forces so foolishly. His objective is not winning some strategic battle in order to gain a territorial victory through forced diplomacy as he was attempting to do then. No, your brother knows what's at stake this time. He must overrun and conquer the Empire or be driven from this Realm. He still believes in the juggernaut and has created many of them. He will strike with overwhelming concentrated force whenever possible."

Gazing around, Jebbson watched faces as he asked, "Tell me, please, how do we hold back the strength of forty armadas with our twenty? No! No, the flood is sweeping ever onward, and we will not succeed in stemming its raging torrents with a few trees lodged in the stream. Asotos' desire is for us to either face him or to stay hidden in the safety of secure harbors. Either way, he will be successful.

"Should our navies reach out to attack in his advancing hour, he will crush them one by one, or sweep around them and attack defenseless positions. Should we hide them in safe harbors, he will go wild, burning our world until there is nothing remaining to defend..."

Planetee interrupted. "So what do you suggest then, Captain?" using Jebbson's favorite term when addressing others. "By your words, if we run and hide, we will be defeated. Yet, if we go out to meet him, we shall also die. What should we do then, wish him away?"

Jebbson smiled. "You sound much too much like our friend, Jonathan. Have you been listening to his panderings of doubt and sorrow?"

Jonathan piped in from across the room. "She has done no such thing! Planetee is an honorable woman!" What he meant to say and what, in his spontaneity, was uttered, struck Jonathan dumb. His face turned red as the chuckles grew around the room.

When the room quieted back down, Jebbson replied. Continuing to smile, he addressed Planetee. "I recommend we do both...go out to face him and hide in security." He hurried on so as to prevent response. "The flood waxes greatest in the stream bed. I suggest we fill in the channel and force the storm to spread across the plain."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a weathered notebook. "Here is what I propose. I believe it will satisfy both our present needs, to help fill in the holes in our defensive web and to give our field marshal her invasion force." He removed a folded paper from the book and carefully opened it, pressing out the creases as he did so. "First, we need to concentrate on building a new navy to meet our coming needs. Here is a sketch of one design of a ship that, if we start now to build, will be on line in ninety days." He turned to watch Mihai's reaction. A question of doubt grew on her face, but she made no reply.

Jebbson continued, "I have carefully studied your military. You construct the most magnificent weapons of war I have ever seen! Their beauty and majesty exceed anything contrived by the inventors of my old world. If we had a hundred years, we could produce enough of them to win this war. That's the problem. We don't have the time. Our needs are immediate. Even a year is too long. Let me explain what I have here."

Jebbson leaned forward, smoothing out the print while he took a moment to examine it. He started with reference to his old days. "I will try not to bore you by repeating myself, but... My company was newly arrived the day before, and was stationed along the shore of a place called 'Hampton Roads'. We watched one of the most unbelievable events, I think, of history. Two monsters covered in iron, a 'David versus a Goliath', exchanged broadsides all morning, changing forever the way men would fight wars. In one hour, the ship of line was relegated to the backwaters of legend and romance.

"The machine that changed history was called a 'cheese box on a raft', among other, much more derogatory terms. It was slow, clumsy, ugly...and terribly successful. And it was constructed in three months." Taking a finger and poking the paper, Jebbson exclaimed, "This, I believe, is our David! If successful, the waging of naval war will forever change in this realm also!"

He leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands, eyeing his audience. "What makes this machine so different are these factors. They're as little as small cutters, with engines capable of powering a frigate, and firepower great enough to take on a cruiser. They can also be constructed almost anywhere, even in an old warehouse. And everything needed to build them is readily available. The hull is made of a common, composite material that is easily worked to produce a thick, nearly impenetrable skin. There are already thousands of old engines lying around that we can adapt for these ships. And, most importantly..." He waved a finger in the air, "the operating and navigation systems are so simple, it will take little training to prepare a crew to run them."

Gabrielle was not convinced. With a chiding tone, she asked, "It sounds to me that there will be no room for the crew. And for engines with the torque power of which you speak, there is no place allotted for the fuel cells and radiating or condensing systems."

"That's because there are none needed." Jebbson quickly replied. "These ships will be powered by your engines of old, converted somewhat with a few of my own concepts. But basically they will be of the old, what I would call a 'nuclear impulse reverse transfer system'."

Several faces frowned their disapproval.

Jebbson did not falter. "Is it dangerous? Yes! If a vessel is hit in the engine room, the chance of radiation killing or disabling the entire crew is possible. That is a sad danger, but acceptable, considering the advantage we gain in the number of machines in the field. As far as the crew is concerned, it will be small, from as few as twelve to possibly thirty."

He addressed Gabrielle. "Please understand, my dear Admiral, I'm not trying to redesign the Navy. Continued building of your proposed ships is fine with me. What I'm offering here is an added concept to what you already have. We need ships and a god-awful lot of 'em in short order. Commander Sarah and Admiral Taqa Esem will provide us with the hunter-seekers and you have the muscle for a major engagement. What I offer are the thousands of arrows to disrupt the cavalry charging against us, a hundred thousand to be exact, and all to be completed within two years."

A collective gasp of surprise arose from the group, but Jebbson ignored it. "My next suggestion will immediately place another thousand fighting ships at our disposal, plus free thousands of supply, transport, and reconnaissance vessels to be put to use where needed. For the moment, I suggest you withdraw the bulk of your taskforces and temporarily disband them, except for a few necessary protective ships for each carrier. Keep them in safe harbor, near our vital defenses. There, should Asotos manage an attack against one of those places, we would already have added protection available."

He then went to his last point. "And, finally, this... There are hundreds of thousands of pleasure, transportation and trade ships scattered throughout the Empire. Procure the use of these machines to serve wherever practicable. It just may save your armies. Am I not right, General Finhardt?"

It took a moment for General Finhardt to grasp Jebbson's question. He finally stood and, as if recalling long-forgotten memories, cautiously began, "My brother was a colonel during the invasion of the Low Countries at the time of the Axis War in my old land. He helplessly watched at a place called 'Antwerp', as the bulk of the enemy army was transported to safety, many on private pleasure-craft and fishing boats, many piloted by their volunteer owners. My people eventually lost the war, in part due to the saving of that army."

Jebbson turned to his audience and grimly smiled, a tearful mist filling his eyes. "We have only a few months to build and equip an army strong enough to not only invade a planet but absorb the crushing blow of a fist packing greater power than we have. If we win, many will die. If we lose, we all will. I will dare echo one statesman's words, 'Desperate times call for desperate measures.'"

He stood erect, fist in hand. "Debate and committees are luxuries we can no longer afford! Each of us must walk the road that Destiny's placed before us. Should we fail, let it not be because we were afraid of trying the unthinkable, or too timid to reach for the unreachable! Let us not die with just the sword in our hand, but with it buried deep in our enemy's belly!" The man quietly sat down, emotionally exhausted.

No one spoke, the somberness of the moment being too great for comment. In few words, this man borne from another world into theirs had shaken them to the collective recognition of the realities of this coming war. In strange and unsettling ways, his ideas gave them a fool's hope...but it was at least hope. What were their chances of success when they couldn't muster the strength to support one invasion force? Yes, a little hope was better than none. They waited for someone to reply to his offer, to either accept it or denounce it as worthless.

Eventually, Mihai stood to address her council. "I am your king, but I am not your master. Yet if you choose for the blood of all men to rest on the shoulders of one person, I will accept that charge. The hour of our possible death rapidly approaches. Valor alone will not win for us this time victory over the Lord of the Dark Age. It has been said that a 'live dog is better than a dead lion'. This time our nobility must bark and snarl if it is to survive!"

She addressed Jebbson, "Take your dreams, as wild as they may sound, and go to my servants. Tell them to place into your hands all the things contained in our storehouses. Anything we have is yours for the taking."

Then, turning to Gabrielle, she cautioned, "May I suggest that you listen to this man's ideas." She pointed toward Jebbson. "Admiral, I will request your support in this, but you choose what is best. It is your fleet, and I bow to your wisdom."

Then focusing her attention on Sarah, Mihai asked, "What more do you desire?"

Sarah stood and slammed her fist on the table. "Give me Chisamore... and any of the other discarded wrecks your Navy possesses! I'll show you how the wolf can decimate the flock!"

Mihai sadly nodded, "Take for yourself Chisamore...and any other of all the old ships not actively serving under the admiral's command. Do with them as your needs see fit. What ever other aid I have to offer is yours."

The recollection of earlier events haunted Mihai's mind when she addressed Trisha. "You, my sister, I have neglected. I feared the darkness and I made you my enemy when you exposed it to me. I pray that the frustration you've displayed this day was over the current dilemma and not because of hatred for me. Though I rightfully deserve it, I hope you have forgiven me for my foolishness."

Trisha quietly stood. She spoke not a word as one large tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek, taking with it the hurt and loss she had carried since the days of the prisoner exchange. Mihai did not need to hear words in order to understand that Trisha harbored no hatred. Two moist, black orbs reflected a mother's love for a child returned to her arms. Although ages older, Mihai felt like that child returning to the one who had given her life.

Breaking away from the enchanting spell, Mihai addressed Trisha's needs. "All my lieutenants are at your service. Whatever they have to give will be made available. And I shall see to it that word is heralded throughout the kingdom for every able-bodied shipmaster to deliver up to us his vessel to use in this coming war."

Mihai then addressed the entire council. "The hour has come. There are no longer choices to be made, only decisions to be carried out. We must stand this approaching storm, yet not only stand it but drive it back and destroy it! Think not of loss of friend or comrade. Focus your hearts on what is gained should we win. There is no past for us to return to and our future will always be cloudy and gray. We shall all become shadow walkers. For us, there will be no returning. That being the case, let us fight for the only hope that remains for the ones coming after us. Let us win this war so that they may enjoy true innocence and we can experience that innocence through them."

Mihai quietly dismissed the council, thanking them for coming.

* * *

The three sat on the grass in the little glade that opened toward a deep, reedy pool fed by a cheerful, bubbly brook. Zadar smacked his lips as he finished the last piece of sweet raisin bread, licking his fingers in order to savor every morsel. Ishtar's new friend, Lowenah, had made it along with all the other treats composing this mid-day symphony of delights. Zadar mused how the giant wicker basket also filled with a ground-cloth, some dishes and three cups, would be easier to heft on the long return walk, now that it was so much lighter. After being thanked for the delicious lunch, Lowenah jumped up and went running off to spy out some little hidden corner of the nearby forest.

Zadar and Ishtar remained reclining in the grass while they watched their companion scurry in and out of the trees, chasing butterflies and bugs. Ishtar leaned close to Zadar's ear, lowering her voice so that her new friend couldn't hear. "Please don't misunderstand me. I have enjoyed Lowenah's company, but I've never met a person stranger than she. Why, one minute she's off scampering around the place chasing a shadow, and the next she will be quietly musing the intricacies of a leaf, petting its silky surface as if it were some special little creature."

Zadar only smiled, nodding in acknowledgment as Ishtar went on. "Then, last night she called me over to sit on the floor with my back to her. She chattered on about all kinds of nonsensical things, the whole while gently combing my hair, occasionally stroking it with her fingers. Not only that, each night she has demanded to rest beside me while I sleep. I have waked to the soft touch of her fingers playing on my skin. It's like she had not slept at all and that she had remained there just watching me as I dreamed."

"You have had pleasant dreams for these past nights, haven't you?" Zadar quizzed. "After all, I hear it's one of Lowenah's special abilities...I mean to offer sweet dreams. She has many powers, you know."

"You are not the first to inform me of such things," Ishtar replied. "Yet I find her so strange, even childish at times."

"Child-like, my dear sister..." Zadar corrected. "Child-like..."

"Child-like, then, if that's how you want it." Ishtar mildly retorted. "Nevertheless, she often acts without restraint and undisciplined. She doesn't listen to instruction well, and she abuses privileges offered. I was told that she was to assist me in getting better acquainted with my new life here and so far I have found her a most disappointing servant!"

Zadar laughed, his toothy grin belying hidden secrets. "My child, you have much to learn about this place. In your world, a servant was little more than a slave. We have no slaves here. When one serves another it is out of a desire to assist. You are not Lowenah's master. No one is her master. Upon whom she wishes to lavish attention she does, and she seeks no consent from anyone to do so. They say the woman has unreachable wisdom and shares it with only those whom she chooses. If she has picked you as her current object of attention, consider yourself truly blessed."

Ishtar's face filled with disquieting puzzlement. "Tell me, then, who is this strange person? When I ask her, she offers me only riddles and stories of nonsense. Or is she a person at all? May she be one of the strange man-like creatures I have heard whispers about? You know, like the ones that fly in those magic sky boats?"

Zadar mused while pondering Ishtar's question, "Strange, man-like creatures?" He rubbed his chin, eyes rolled upward as if he were scrutinizing the sky. "No, I think not. No, not at all..." He turned his gaze upon the girl. "God's 'Cherubs' they're called. Lowenah is nothing like them. It is said that the Cherubs were the first intelligent creatures ever produced by God. They were all made...built, you might say. They are like living tools in God's hands."

Zadar watched Ishtar wrinkle her face in curiosity and disbelief. He decided to offer further knowledge. "Few of the children have had close dealings with them. I have, but that is another story for another day. What I know of them is that they do have personalities and likes and dislikes, but there is where similarities between them and us end. Oh, and they are super-intelligent."

He pointed toward himself. "You see, we were made to decide for ourselves as to what is right and wrong. We can choose our life's course, can make wise or foolish decisions, become good or bad. We are creatures made with wild and free hearts, which can lead us down the roads of love or hate. As I understand it, a Cherub does not have such a heart. His love or hate is measured by logic or by thinking. For example, they don't hold grudges."

Zadar smiled. "The Cherubs are God's servants. I have been told they were used to build the Great Palace, the first structure in this realm. In fact, it is said that some of them actually reside within the confines of the old palace and surrounding city wall. They take on whatever shape that serves their Master's purpose, all the way from appearing like a man to that of a beast or a tree. Why, they can even become invisible or so I've been told. It is also said that they are the torch-bearers of God, bringing justice to the wicked and foolish. Twice that I know of, and possibly many more times than that, they have been used in your old realm. Do you recall the account of the angels and the flaming sword?"

Ishtar thought a moment. "You mean the Cherubs of Eden? The ones who stood at the entrance?"

"Exactly!" Zadar grinned. "Except the Cherubs were not just at the entrance. Those were the ones that the people of your planet could see. There were thousands, surrounding the entire land of Eden. The Cherubs had the ability to remain as watchers all those long years because time is no deterrent to them. They never tire, nor do they become bored or lose their wakefulness. They have no need for rest, nor do they hunger or become weary. They are wonderful watchmen."

Ishtar asked, curious, "You speak of another time?"

"Oh, yes!" Zadar confirmed. "It was far different. Let me try to explain. You have been told the tale of a great flood that swept your planet, bringing to nothing most life on it."

Ishtar nodded, smiling.

"Well," Zadar went on, "God used those same Cherubs to bring it about and to protect the people who survived. Your old planet once had a layer of water compressed under its skin, deep under ground. It acted like a giant shock absorber, sort a' like a thick blanket on a hard seat. It also had a layer of water high above the clouds in the form of really, really small particles, far tinier than a misty droplet. They would filter out any of the harmful glory of the sun...the stuff that could give you a burn."

Ishtar's eyes were wide with the excitement at learning new things, especially from a person who had witnessed the event he was speaking about. Her face radiated the wonder filling her mind.

Pleased at seeing her interest, Zadar tried to describe things in ways she could easily comprehend. "What God had these Cherubs do was to alter the orbit...that's the way planets and things move in the outer sky, the sky that lies beyond what's blue up there." He pointed up, drawing Ishtar's attention in that direction. "Some of those Cherubs pulled giant stones out of their normal orbits and made them crash into your planet. Well, when that happened, the huge rocks smashed such big holes in the ground that they released the pressurized water, shooting it high into the blue sky, higher than any clouds had ever gone."

Zadar watched puzzlement grow on the girl's face, so he offered an example. "It's like when you fill your mouth with water, stuffing you cheeks until they're puffed full out, and then open your lips. The water squirts out. Well, it was something like that, but much, much more powerful. Anyhow, the water under the ground was hotter than steam and when it shot up, it took a lot of dirt and mud with it. All that heat and mud mixed with all the super-cold water high in the sky, making it heavy and it fell, _whoosh!_ to the ground, flooding everything.

"Well, after the water had smashed up everything and flooded the whole planet, the Cherubs took to watching over the people and animals that were supposed to survive, keeping them safe while all the other people and most of the other animals finished dying off. Then, these same living tools of God went to work fixing things up so that the planet would be hospitable enough for life on it again. What they did then is a whole other story and we don't have time for it today."

Ishtar piped in, "If that's the case, then who is she?" referring to Lowenah. "Is she one of the children, like you and all the others I've met?"

Zadar thought a moment and then cautiously replied, "Lowenah is her own child. I don't know how long she has lived. None of the Ancients have ever revealed that secret if they do know, and Lowenah has never chosen to include me in on it."

He reached out and touched Ishtar on the forehead, just above the eyes. Then, he slowly and gently slid his finger down and along the bridge of her nose, softly pushing the tip like a button. He let his hand fall. "I think somewhere inside your head Lowenah has hidden that secret along with a whole bunch of others. One day you will discover it."

A look of mild, impatient disappointment crossed Ishtar's face. "I am always waiting for everything! All the time, I ask questions and only get riddles or half answers. I am told that I'm in Heaven. Well, that's what I call it...the First Realm, if you like it better. Yet it looks a lot like my old home to me. It's nothing like what I expected it to be." She rolled up on her knees and placed her hands on Zadar's arms. "I saw Darla once, at a long ago place and time. My people would call her an 'angel', but she didn't have wings like the stories I was told, and you don't have any either. And people don't fly here, either, only in those magic boats."

She hurried on before Zadar could reply. "And there's war! I mean real war with killing and fighting, people dying. Where is this wonderful world we hoped for, dreamed of? This place, wherever it may be, is no paradise dreamed of! Those I love go off to kill and be killed! My dreams are filled with battles and slaughter, swords and oaths, treason and fury! And where is this Almighty God in all of this? Does he appear and lead his people to victory? You" she huffed, stuffing her finger into Zadar's chest, "had me locked away in my room when I only attempted to see beyond these mountain walls. And I hurt and got wet and cold and frightened. And then the very man who watched over my execution I see in the woods the night of my capture. Tell me if you can, what has really become of me? And don't speak in riddles!"

A cloud swept over Zadar's face and any joviality disappeared as he spoke. In almost a whisper, he answered, "You are a star-child. Your sword will make the rivers run red with the blood of my brothers and sisters. In your pride and vengeance, the innocent will perish along with the wicked _._ What you need to know will come in its time, but first you must learn our ways and un-think yours. My God will weep oceans of tears because of the things you and your people do to us. I have nothing else to say about the matter."

He pulled himself up on his knees and stood. Turning away, he quietly walked toward the bubbling stream, raising his sad, misty eyes, watching Lowenah as she scampered among the flowers. The cost was too great! The hour of the ending age was upon them. Soon the Destroyer would arrive, driving his armies across the bloodied plain to finish what this war was only starting. But, for him, there was to be no remorse shown - not even for Lowenah's feelings. This she knew, yet it was by her own hand that the future had been cast into motion.

"I'm sorry." Ishtar stopped beside Zadar and gently took his hand. "I am sorry. I wish harm to no one."

Zadar turned to look upon the child. He reached his arm around her shoulder and drew her close, sighed, and gazed back across the brook at Lowenah who was stooped over as if searching for something hidden in the grasses. "You and your people were delivered to this place to return our souls to us. If Asotos is not brought to a finish, there will soon be nothing left of all the things you see. We haven't the heart to do what must be done. It is hoped you will share yours with us so that once again we shall stand to face the coming storm and this time see it through." The two became silent, watching Lowenah rummage through the weeds.

Moments later she was hurrying over, hands cupped as if they held some precious treasure. Grinning from ear-to-ear, she called out, "I've found a strange one! You must see what I've come upon!" Lowenah stopped up short, directly in front of her companions. Opening her hands enough to allow them a peek in, she proudly announced, "I have never seen one like this before! Look how strange and different it is!"

Ishtar peered into the cave-like opening in Lowenah's hands, seeing what appeared to be some furry, little caterpillar wiggling around in the woman's palm. The girl tried to act excited, but some bug had no appeal to her, and besides, it looked like all the other bugs in the fields surrounding them.

"I don't see the difference. I'm sorry," Zadar apologetically offered. "Would you please share what you see?"

"Look!" Lowenah beamed with excitement as she opened up her hand and then, with a finger from her other, began to stroke the little hairs on one side of the caterpillar. "You see those little yellow dots? Those dots will carry over onto its wings when it emerges as the graceful butterfly..." glancing at Ishtar, "what your people would call the 'Porphura Smaragdos' or 'Purple Emerald'. The yellow should enhance its royal purple-colored transparent wings, making it a breathtaking vision of fluttering beauty."

Zadar's mouth blossomed into a huge grin. He reached out and softly grasped the hand holding the bug and bent forward to make a closer examination. "How wonderful that it's been found! It will give us all something to search for when it unfolds its wings in the spring. Thank you for discovering it for us."

Ishtar attempted to appear as pleased as Zadar. She also thanked Lowenah for finding it. Yet, the thought of such excitement being generated over a potential butterfly while there were already thousands upon thousands of every color and description surrounding them puzzled her.

Lowenah giggled and turned with the little animal still in hand. "I'll put it back and wait to see what happens."

Ishtar broke in, curious. "How can you be sure it will stay safe? After all, many a creature here would find it a tasty treat."

Laughter burst from Lowenah's lips. "It will be quite safe...quite safe." She hurried off to hide it, away from where she had found it.

Ishtar looked at Zadar, eyes filled with disbelief at the words she had just heard.

Zadar smiled, "I told you that Lowenah has many powers. If she chooses to protect that fuzzy worm, believe me, it will remain safe."

The two began chatting on about matters of little importance. They were in the middle of Zadar's explanation of clouds when a loud splash interrupted the conversation. Lowenah had stripped off her flowery garment and was now merrily splashing in the reedy pool just below the brook.

Ishtar stood there staring, aghast at the thought of a woman stripping naked in mixed company and going off swimming in the buff. Disgusted, she was about to call out and give Lowenah a lecture on proper manners when a finger was gently pressed against her lips as Zadar reminded her, "You are in our world now. You are the one who has to shed the ways of the past and rid yourself of the guilt from a troubled conscience. You asked me why we have kept such a close eye on you. This is part of the reason. There are many others, some subtle, others not so. How stubborn will you remain to immersing yourself in our culture?"

With that, Zadar stood back and peeled off his clothes and headed toward the pool, turning back and motioning for Ishtar to join him. She stood in shock at his bold handsomeness. Something inside her heart repulsed her, but as she watched this perfectly formed male gingerly walking toward the pool, she felt a strange desire to join in what looked like so much fun. Concluding that her bad feelings came from what he had called a 'troubled' or 'guilty conscience', she attempted to look at the matter from their perspective.

Zadar and Lowenah were splashing and frolicking in the refreshing water, playing tag and carrying on like two little children. Ishtar watched, longing to find herself in such a wonderful world of titillating pleasure. Gradually, desire overcame self-consciousness, joining in the fun started overcoming her guilt, and soon she found her fingers busily tugging at her clothing's restraints, allowing her the same pleasures.

Her tunic drifted to the grass as the child stood as one does at birth, a light breeze tingling her skin as it swept over the little hairs on her arms and legs. Slowly and quietly, she made her way toward the pool. No one noticed. First one foot and then another slipped into the water, and still no one gave any heed. Oh, the delights of a naked swim, a kick here and a splash there! Oh the sweet freedom of life without confinement! Soon the girl had joined in the games that Zadar and Lowenah were playing, forgetting forever this foolish taboo of her old world.

* * *

Frustration and anger carried over into the words Terey spit out at Mihai. "How do you expect me to be a counselor to you when you bar my very path? If you keep secrets from me, how can I provide wisdom with my reply?"

Terey was acting spokesman for some of Mihai's close associates who, for over an hour, had been arguing about the new war councils. She and the others were among the most intimate of Mihai's companions, some having rescued the woman from her assailant those many years ago, many having fought beside her during these endless wars.

Mihai sought to calm the moment with apology. "It was the unanimous decision of all present that only from the Council of Eighty were members of the war councils to be taken."

Terey erupted, "If it hadn't been for my injuries received on that piece of junk rust-bucket, I would have been at that meeting! I had been invited, you know..."

Mihai sadly replied, "I'm sorry..."

"You're god-damned right you're sorry!" Terey shouted, doubling her hands into fists. "You block my path with this stupid rule, but ask me to stand beside you as your advisor! What kind of a fool do you take me for?"

"My sister," Mihai begged, "I need you beside me, to comfort me, and assist me in the things I do. I would be lost at this time without your he..."

"Help assist you in throwing some ball for the returning warriors? To smile at the heroes and commend them for their valor while your trusted counselors debate the coming strategies of combat? Forget it, my Dear! I'll have no part of it! I'm a warrior! If I cannot help devise the plan of attack, I'll then damn well sure participate in one!" Terey glowered, squinting, demanding, "Well, what will it be?"

Mihai lowered her head to hide tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"Alright then, have it your way!" Anna reached to stop Terey from going, but the woman pulled herself away and stormed out of the room.

Anna turned back to Mihai, offering, "I'm sure she'll calm down. It's been very difficult for her with the accident and all. She's still got a lot more healing to do. We almost lost her, you know." She placed a hand on Mihai's shoulder. "I'll speak to her directly."

Mihai thanked Anna, apologizing to the others. "I must follow the decisions of the Council. They say there are spies among us and that we are all at great risk. I promised to obey whatever directive Lowenah offered. That I must do..."

"My Dear," Anna soothed, "we must all bear burdens that cannot be carried by others. We are all disappointed by the last council's decision." She waved her hand around to include others who were no longer part of Mihai's inner circle of confidants. "Yet we shall weather it through. Be patient. It is emotional for all of us."

Mihai rested her hand on Anna's shoulder, her face reflecting a deep sadness. "Mother said some would not understand. I hope it's only because of the things you have explained. I have loved Terey so. I don't want to lose her now."

Anna offered a reassuring smile. "People do strange things when under pressure. It becomes easy to see shadows in the dark, especially when the future hangs so precariously by a thread. Do not start to lose your trust in your companions so quickly. These are trying times. We must stick together."

"Thank you," Mihai sighed. "You do offer comfort when times are so dark. Thank you."

Terey was in such a huff when she hurried from Mihai's council chambers, she gave little heed to those around her. Bursting through an outside door, she plowed into Sirion, knocking the woman off her feet, sending her sprawling onto the walkway. Offering embarrassed apologies, she hurried to assist the girl, anxiously asking, "Are you hurt? I'm sorry...I didn't see..."

"I'm alright. I'm alright," Sirion reassured as she struggled to regain her footing, wincing, letting out an involuntary groan as she placed her hand over ribs that Terey had slammed with her elbow. Terey attempted to help once more. "Here, let me assist you! Come, we can relax and get some refreshment and sit a spell. You'll feel better then."

"Thank you, no," Sirion hurriedly replied. "I must be off. I'll be fine. Thank you."

Terey's face furrowed into a frown as she sarcastically asked, "So where is the rabbit off to in such a fuss? One of the Eighty busy with more secret business, I suppose?"

Sirion stopped in her tracks, staring into Terey's face, her own filled with puzzlement and disquiet as she responded, "In what way have I assaulted my sister? Have I ever taken one crumb of bread from her plate to satisfy my hunger?"

It was Terey's turn to stop up short, recognizing her uncalled for, rude actions. She stammered, "Please forgive me, my little one. I have poured out my frustrations on you. You are innocent in all you speak. I have been the one acting ruinously. Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, my dear one." Sirion attempted to cover the hurt in her voice. "Please, it's alright...but I must be off, or I will miss my appointment." She quickly hobbled away.

Terey sighed in relief, and then shouted to her, "What's the rush?" With that, she hurried after Sirion, who was several paces away. "Where are you going?"

When Terey caught up with Sirion, she again asked where the woman was off to. Still holding her ribs, Sirion attempted an answer. In short, painful gasps, she explained, "Must see...the admiral...Sophia's back from...shakedown cruise. Said I could go...as a pilot...maybe."

A smile grew on Terey's face as she pondered new possibilities. "You want to be in my flight wing?"

Sirion eyed Terey with suspicion. "I didn't know...you were on...Sophia."

"I'm not!" Terey's Cheshire cat grin grew. "At least not yet... Do you want help in convincing Gabrielle of our value? I could say I need you to serve as my flight officer. If it works out right, just maybe we can both gain a berth aboard the ship. After all, I'm not needed here, and I have a good fighter just off-loaded from Chisamore. I'm sure our admiral could use another '17' on board."

"As long...as I get...my own...fighter," Sirion panted.

"That I promise you." Terey assured. "But first we must convince the boss to let us aboard. You follow my lead and we'll see where it goes, alright?"

Sirion beamed, "I'm your servant!"

The two hurried off to see the admiral. In a short time, both would be riding the winds of a fickle destiny like that found in a story penned by a poet who once wrote 'all for the loss of a nail...'

* * *

The two innocent-appearing commerce traders quietly settled down in the frozen, windswept clearing of an ancient evergreen forest. As soon as the huge landing pads of the larger of the two ships were in contact with the snowy surface, the muffled whine of its wheezing engines groaned into silence, briefly returning peaceful stillness to the night. Moments later, a sharp _clank!_ along with a grinding, shuddering whirr of worn-out servos chased away the quiet as a ramped door opened in the ship's underbelly, grudgingly lowering until its end rested in the icy snow. Instantly, one after the other, several fast-moving, tracked vehicles began plunging down the steep ramp, racing away toward the surrounding trees.

The machines stopped just inside the clearing while their drivers waited to be joined by others still aboard the ships. There was a loud commotion as several dozen ragtag, armed men came trotting down the ramp, hooting and shouting to one another as if they were on an outing. They hurried across the frozen clearing to the waiting tracked machines.

At that same time, about thirty men exited the smaller, cutter-sized vessel, ten of them dressed the same way as the crew on the larger ship, but their demeanor betrayed them to be highly disciplined soldiers. The rest wore white camouflage uniforms while carrying modern assault weapons, primarily long-range sniper guns with computer-operated optical maser guidance systems. These men scurried off in all directions for several hundred meters to protect against intruders.

Three more men appeared on the dimly lit exit ramp of the smaller ship. They walked down together, stopping where it touched the ground. One of the men was attired the same as the crowd heading for the tractors. The other two wore natty officer's uniforms, bright red kilts and shirts, long, flowing, red capes and burnished metal breastplates and helmets. Reddish-brown leggings and snow-paks had been added to their wardrobes because of the cold and ice. They chatted for some time as the others spread into the woods or assembled at the vehicles.

Looking across the narrow expanse between the two ships, the men spied the commander of the ragtag force standing near the ramp with some of his lieutenants. The captain of the three watched the goings on, rubbing his naked chin as if pondering the moment. Finally, he shouted to the commander, "Can't you keep your children's friggin' mouths quiet for at least one second? We don't want the whole damn planet knowing we're here!"

The commander's face flushed red with anger as he shouted back, "Shut your own mouth, you no good bastard, or I'll take my boys home and you can play this game by yourself!"

"Fool!" the captain shouted back as he started for the commander. Walking briskly toward his antagonist, he pelted the man with insults. "Your silly-ass monkey-children already drank up half of the payment given you! If you back out now, you'd better have riches enough to return our payment or you'll never live to see another day in your lovely hovel! Now shut your children up!"

The commander's eyes blazed with fury, his hands clenched white in rage, but he held his tongue, for he knew too well the truthfulness of the captain's threat. He eventually turned to two of his lieutenants. Off they scurried while the commander again faced the captain, who was nearly advanced upon him. "Don't trust to the luck of your sky patrol, you blow-hard! They've been known to fail before."

"Are you brave enough to chance it today?" the incensed captain coldly retorted. He was well aware of the deceitful and treacherous traits of these Stasis Pirates. His experiences with them had taught him that strength of power was all that kept them in line. Many a fellow officer had learned too late not to trust these animals. But if one held high the whip while extending a bone, they could become useful tools.

The commander grunted his contempt, but remained silent.

"We have an understanding then," crooned the captain. "Look, my dear fellow, if all goes well, you will attain a much larger reward than what little you've received from our hand. As I said, pillage all you want. If you wish to bring back some toys to fun with on the return trip, that's fine with me, too. But make sure they're all dead before you get home. I don't want any wild flappin' about this later on!" He poked the commander's chest with his finger. "And do things as you're told! Let a few run away. We need 'em for witnesses. And most of all, make it messy! Do you understand?"

The commander glowered, his displeasure obvious at being bossed around by this obnoxious intruder. Still, he knew his place if booty was to be had. He nodded, acknowledging his understanding.

"Good! Very good!" the captain smiled. "Now run along and ready your people. My man will be there shortly."

The Stasis commander was seething, but contained his anger. He ordered his men off with him and, as they departed, he called out so that the captain could hear, "Watch your back boys, or they'll bugger ya!" They picked up their pace and were soon some distance from the captain's party.

The captain shook his head. "It's a pity we waste our time with those things. Most are so stupid they'd piss on their own feet, thinking they were getting a shower," he quipped as he watched two of the Stasis urinating on a tracked machine's hot exhaust pipe. "Watch yourself, Sergeant. Don't even think of trusting one of 'em. They'd stick you as soon as to look at you."

The man dressed in the same garb as the Stasis acknowledged his orders.

"One more thing..." The captain looked around to make sure no one was near. "Make sure you leave a couple of those ape-men behind as evidence. I don't want anyone thinking anything except this was some raid made by those things. Got it?"

"Yes sir, I'll make sure of it." The sergeant offered a crisp salute.

The captain eyed his man and warned, "From now on, act like those things!" He pointed to the Stasis. "No more proper salutes until you're back here."

"Yes, sir," the sergeant replied. "Oops!" He started making funny animal noises while scratching his underarms, bowing his legs, wandering off toward the gathered assembly, breaking wind as he walked away.

The captain and his fellow officer roared with laughter. Few could cut up better than the sergeant, and he was making a show of it tonight. Both then watched the tractors get underway and disappear into the forest. The two then slowly retraced their steps back to the small ship. On the way, the lieutenant asked, "Sir, how can we be so sure this little ploy will be successful? After all, it's only a tiny village in a desolate wilderness, not even remotely important to anyone other than its inhabitants."

Replying to his second-in-command, the captain flatly stated, "This is only the beginning, Lieutenant. Eventually, we will have success. That little lady has responsibility for protecting this quadrant. If raids like this continue, she will be forced to personally investigate. It's only a matter of time before she does."

"Yes, sir," replied the lieutenant. "It appears to be a good plan, but I have to wonder. Her boyfriend's the admiral over the fleet here. He won't let her take any real chances. I mean, how will we get her far enough away from his fleet so we can do our business and get away?"

The captain smiled. "All we have to do is keep drawing her further away from the others, like we did with Zephath. First, we'll get her attention like we're doing tonight. Then we'll make raids on settlements at greater and greater distances out on the Frontier. When she's out beyond any real help...well, the old man will take care of the rest. He's got it all planned."

The captain slapped his junior officer on the back. "Come on. Let's get a hot drink and kick up our feet while we wait for business to be finished here."

The two hustled up the ramp past the guards and hailed someone in the crew to bring them some brews.

* * *

#

"So how long do you think it will take to make her fly?" Sarah's impatience was barely hidden by her pleasant tone.

Jebbson pushed himself away from a drafting table covered with all sorts of sketches and prints. Turning to face his anxious inquisitor, he kindly replied, "For you, my Dear..." he paused, pulling at his beard as if in thought, "Oh, I think she will be ready in ten, maybe twelve months."

"What?" Sarah's voice went up three octaves as her face contorted in disbelief and her hands flew around, emphasizing her frustration. "How can I wait that long? The whole war will have come and gone by then! And I'm supposed to be a lead element!"

Jebbson, smiling in a way that revealed he was having some fun at another's expense, reached out, patting Sarah on the arm. "Now, now, my Dear, remember, 'All good things come to those who wait'."

"Arghhh!" Sarah slapped her hands to her face, grimacing, rolling her eyes, crying out some ancient curse.

"What do we have here, a temper tantrum?" Jebbson quizzed in mock disbelief. Pretending chastisement and offering fatherly advice using another old maxim, he waved his finger at her, "Remember, 'patience is a virtue'."

After his second sting, even Sarah, who understood nothing about the value of sarcastic humor, started to comprehend Jebbson's jocularity. On the outside, it frustrated her, but inside, in her heart, it felt like a swaddling blanket, soothing and protecting her, a reassuring voice comforting the heart.

Sarah had only become acquainted with Jebbson a few weeks before, after the prisoner exchange, but already a rich relationship was growing between these two people from cultures so different in time and style. Jebbson never acted in a demeaning way, nor did he attempt to make amorous advances toward her. He was like the younger brother she never had. He was supportive and kind, but he did like to tease. At first, she had been mildly insulted by his actions, but now his little doings were almost enjoyable - in fact, preferable. She observed that when he became quiet and overly polite, things were serious or weren't going well. The man did not play games to hurt or embarrass anyone. He used them to 'cut the ice', to use his phrase. And she was beginning to enjoy hearing his many little bits of wisdom.

Jebbson drew close and peered into Sarah's eyes, staring at them for several moments. When he was satisfied that she had finally slowed down enough to listen, he went on to explain. Taking her hand, he gently drew the woman to the table. "My crew has thoroughly inspected Chisamore. They could find no major structural damage caused by the engine overload, but there is a great deal of age and use-fatigue that has created severe weakness in much of the hull, which can be adequately repaired. She should have been completely overhauled years ago, possibly scrapped."

He slowly leafed through some oversized pages of neatly drawn blueprints until he came to a mechanical schematic of one of the drive engines. "Here is where the major time cost will be to us. The core of these drive engines is original equipment, installed over three hundred years ago. At one time they used a lithium-cobalt type lubricating/cooling system combination, but some time around the Great War they were converted to dual processing. In other words, cooling and lubing were separated into two different operations. It was a short-lived practice because of its complexity," he raised his eyebrows, "even for these overkill people."

He then directed Sarah to their dilemma. "It would take far too many months and man-hours to reconstruct all the needed parts to refit the machine. We cannot convert the drive systems back to the old style either, because of all the changes made by the modifications. And, both engines were integrated together when the system was modified. This leaves us with two choices, both of which I dislike for various reasons."

Sarah was no 'Captain Billy Whiz-bang' as Jebbson would call someone who was quick to understand strange things, or when pointing out that it shouldn't take one that long to comprehend the obvious. Most of the technical information being deposited in her brain at the moment was beyond Sarah's ability to grasp, but Jebbson's use of pictures and words allowed her to gather a general idea of the situation. Realizing there was a dilemma, Sarah asked, "So, what are the two choices?"

"Well," Jebbson replied, "we can either replace them with Wougffer engines,

(called that for the strange ' _wougffering'_ sound they made at cruising speed) or we could convert the present ones to radon drafters. To add the former, we will need to dry dock the ship and rip out her belly, remove the old engines and insert the new - that is, if we are fortunate enough to find two that will readily fit. The latter refit is much faster to do, but even with the layered lead and chromium linings, will still be deadly in a rupture." He looked into Sarah's face, slowly shaking his head. "A massive radiation leak such as that would instantly kill the machine crews and, if escape was delayed, most of the rest aboard the ship."

"But" he added, "you'd have unlimited power with the radon drafters, and it would be a thousand years before there'd be need to refuel. If repaired properly, your flying death trap would be one of the fastest in all the fleets."

Sarah asked, "How long will it take to fit the ship with the engines?"

"If we're lucky..." Jebbson waved a hand in the air, "and I use that term loosely...if everything runs smoothly with the Wougffer engines, and we can get into a dry dock soon, we're looking at twelve to fourteen months at best, another eight if things go to normal, so I reckon close to two years."

Sarah wrinkled her face and shook her head. "That won't do! We can't wait that long!"

"So I figured..." Jebbson calmly replied. "Your suicide motors can be installed quickly, and even with all the other needed repairs, we can have Chisamore shipshape in maybe six months."

"Make it four!" Sarah demanded. "Give me the ship in four!"

"Whoa, girl! Slow down!" Jebbson cried, motioning with his hands for her to ease off. "I will not make a dangerous machine a fools' paradise. Only an idiot builds a gun with opposing barrels. It will take a crew of over five hundred to operate such a contraption as we're redesigning, plus whatever number of soldiers you'll put in to her. No! I will not carry the blood of so many to satisfy the whim of urgency. The ship will meet my minimum safety standards and have adequate escape devices before I let her go out at all. Is that clearly understood?"

Sarah grudgingly agreed, nodding in approval.

"But that's not the worst of it, my Dear." Jebbson cautioned. "Chisamore is a carrier, or should I say was. And I assumed that's what you wanted it for."

"What do you mean 'was'?" Sarah suspiciously asked.

"What I mean is," Jebbson repeated, "by the time you asked for Chisamore, work crews had already off-loaded all fighters and parts that were of any value. Then they had removed compressors, gravity machines, operational systems, gages, pony motors, whatnots, gimcranks, and what-have-yous. Just about anything that made it much of a carrier, let alone a ship, had been stripped from the old girl." He shook his head. "We got back some of the less useful items, but the damage was already done. The good parts are now scattered throughout a hundred other derelicts that are being readied for the war."

Sarah unleashed a mournful sigh as her shoulders slumped in surrender. Finally, in an exhausted tone, she muttered, "What good am I as a commander if I have no ship to lead my soldiers into battle with? Of what value is the arrow when the string is loosed from the bow?"

Jebbson fumbled in his vest pocket and pulled out a well-worn pocket watch. Sarah looked at him in disbelief. "Hey," he cried out in defense, "all of us carry old baggage." Then he offered, "I have been working here nonstop since before sunup and haven't eaten a bite today. Would you like to accompany me for lunch and we can have further discussion over some hot food and good ale?"

At the mention of a meal, Sarah's own appetite awoke, telling her that breakfast had been some time earlier. She agreed. Soon the two were on the street leading to one of Oros' finer cafés.

As they casually ambled along the cobblestone-style sidewalk, created from hand-hewn bluestone blocks, Jebbson began to inform Sarah of his personal viewpoint regarding their presence in this new and different world they now lived in. "My Dear, I believe we must not look at our arrival here as providential to the winning of this war. You make much ado about leading your army into battle, and I think that is not the major part you are to play in matters."

She started to argue, but he kindly motioned her to wait. He continued, "This is not our war. It is a time for the testing of the spirit and resolve of these people. I believe the coming events are what our friend Jonathan witnessed in visions long ago. It was written by his hand that he saw Michael...'Mihai', as she likes to be called...and his...we now know that they are her 'angels'...the name we once called everyone from this place. Jonathan wrote that they drove Asotos from this realm. There is no mention of you, me or any others from our old realm lending a hand in the contest."

Sarah queried, "Then why are we here? If it is their war, why involve us at all?"

"That's a good question!" Jebbson waved his hand in the air, shaking his finger in time with his statement. "And I think I have some good answers." The woman patiently allowed him to continue.

"We're a wild card, a fly in the ointment, so to speak. You see, Lowenah has been very deliberate with those of us who have been delivered here thus far. She's been secretive as to the number that have arrived to date, and she often whisks us away before we're noticed, like she did with you. It was only at the last prisoner exchange that we were revealed to Asotos, the old fool _,_ and it was done to draw out his hand. Now he feels compelled to push his contest against us sooner than he wanted. He has no idea how many of us are here and is concerned as to how great our powers may be. Remember, he thinks us to be immortal."

Jebbson stopped and turned toward Sarah. "Only now has he begun to realize who the Gravemaker really is." He pointed his finger at Sarah. "And believe me, whispered reports about you, the rumored shadow-dancer have reached his ears...the one person who took out dozens of his best troopers and invaded his private castle. It does not set well with him knowing she commands a clandestine navy of rogue miscreants.

"Oh, yes! And our little lady who's building one of greatest armies that ever raged in Heaven or on Earth unsettles him. I watched the man when our cold-blooded sister killed that dog and then spit on its carcass. I saw this unease and concern on his face when he realized Trisha was in control of his life that hour, and he had walked right into her trap, himself. Asotos knows he faces two unknown and unpredictable adversaries who will not hesitate to bring his doom and it troubles his dreams."

They both looked up as a carriage overloaded with uniformed new recruits came careening down the street. They stepped back as the joyously raucous crew raced by. Jebbson smiled as his eyes followed its journey down the steep hill and around a sharp curve, almost upsetting as it did. "War always does this to people, you know. No matter how old one is, there is some kind of reckless, hidden energy released when possible death is first realized. A person will do foolish and dangerous things while feeling an almost euphoric passion about life. It'll settle down after they've seen their first few comrades torn to smithereens."

The two followed the carriage's route down the hill. At the bottom, they crossed the street and exited onto a winding trail leading them through a flower-filled park and out to the main part of the city. The hour was a little early for the lunch crowd, so Jebbson found his favorite café only half full. He ushered Sarah to a quiet booth at the far end of the room. They ordered their meals and took up the earlier conversation.

Jebbson leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "I believe there's an even more important reason for us being here. I think it will do you well to hear me out, and that's why I invited you to lunch with me. I usually take it alone. It suits me better. Gives me time to think..."

Sarah was taken aback, but made no mention, for she wished to hear him out. "Go on," she kindly ordered, "seeing I'm just a curious intrusion for you to extol your theories on. Let's be done with it."

Jebbson grinned. "That's better. I like to see the blood flowing in you." He then offered his explanation. "These are a wonderful people. They are artisans, poets and inventors. They love life and enjoy the works of their hands, lavishing all their energies upon the things they make. As an example, it's nothing to wait an hour for a simple meal at this establishment. Why? Because they make every item perfect, something to be remembered far into the future. They turn a simple meal into an event. They do this with everything.

"Navy ships, from fighters to huge carriers, are all hand-crafted, one at a time. Sometimes one person or a small group will manufacture and assemble one ship. It is nothing for it to take years to put a fighter into action, and decades or longer to construct a carrier. Chisamore was three hundred years old at the time of the Great War, yet there were many others that were far older. Carracks built well over two millennia before were still frontline ships in some battles, and many had never even been upgraded to modern standards. Although things sped up somewhat during that war, there still was never any mass production, many times not even any interchangeability of parts, each machine being unique.

"If we are to have a well-equipped Army and Navy, the manufacturing processes are going to have to change. Already, my team of construction and production engineers is working on that. A full thirty percent of all industry joined to our cause is busy making the machinery that will produce the tools of war. Standardization of parts, mass production, ease of use, streamlined manufacturing processes, none of these things are unknown to our friends here. It's just that they have resisted the concepts...still do. Sad to say, at times we've had to implement a military method of procedure in our work places to get some of our people to follow instructions. Also, sad to say, there have been those who were asked to leave because they either couldn't or wouldn't fit in to the routine."

Liquid refreshments were finally delivered, Jebbson's being a steaming concoction that reminded him of coffee with whiskey and sweet cream added. Sarah's was a cold, robust beverage with a biting ginger flavor. "Ah, just perfect...perfect." Jebbson closed his eyes, smiling, savoring the drink's intoxicating aroma. "They make the best Irish coffee I've ever tasted." He smacked his lips and took a sip.

Sarah frowned, "Food is to sustain the body. It should not become a distraction lest we forget our duty to cause and responsibility."

Jebbson grinned, set his drink down, and placed his hand on her arm. "No, my dear, food sustains the spirit. And it is one of the things we fight for. It was told to me by a friend who survived the mass murders of most of her people during the last big war that swept our old realm that while in prison, she and other starving women compiled a book of their favorite food recipes. She informed me how the reminder of such delights somehow helped sustain her through the horrific months and years that followed. When all things appeared hopeless and my friend would be near to giving up, just the thought of hot, sweet pastries would somehow revive her spirit to continue the struggle.

"No..." he continued, shaking his head is disagreement, "it is for foods and other delights we fight. If people fail to remember why they are willing to surrender their lives, if they forget the good life, then they will lose their reason to endure the battle."

He quickly gave Sarah another example, telling her a story from his own days in the Second Realm, of soldiers trapped in a contest over a bridge. "The men asked for their whiskey ration to be returned to them if they took it. The commander agreed and, unlike all the earlier attempts to capture the bridge, that charge carried the day." Finally, he asked her what she thought of during her times of combat in the arena.

The woman lowered her head, remembering, grimacing in pain as if recalling the past brought back feelings of guilt and shame. She finally looked over to Jebbson, her face appearing ancient and worn. "You do have a way about you, a way to make long-forgotten memories spring to life, memories that I wish would never wake."

She paused to collect her dark thoughts. "All right, I'll tell you the truth...truth that I have always denied even myself until now. One of my masters promised me a hot bath and an entire night of private seclusion in my own room, where I would not have to serve the whims of some drunken bastard. If I was really good in battle, bringing the death of my adversary...often another woman...I could have two nights free from intrusion."

She shook her head in sadness. "Men are really sadistic! The more I maimed my opponent before killing her...you know, slicing open her belly, cutting off a breast or two - things like that...the more they hooted and raved about my abilities, the greater the favors given me by my master. We often fought naked for the smaller, richer gatherings. I would carefully choose my blows to create the greatest amount of gore and blood while extending the life of my prey. That gave me a larger reward after the contest." She paused then admitted, "All I can remember thinking when I entered the arena was, 'tonight I can sleep alone, free from groping hands and stinking breath'."

Jebbson remained silent for some time. He finally picked up his cup and took another sip then, looking back at his friend, smiled and, nodding at the similarity, offered, "The thought of good food will sustain the spirit in dark times."

Their meal finally arrived and the two ate quietly. By the time they finished and exited the café, the lunch crowds had become a throng, filling the street with long queues waiting to enter favorite eateries. The two paused to watch. They cut quite an appearance and would have stood out as noticeable oddities in normal times, but with so many costumed strangers from so many star systems, dress and apparel were given little notice. From naked to natty and everywhere in between was the style of the day.

Jebbson wore a light brown, pinstriped, vested suit, similar to what he wore in his later life in the Second Realm. The man had it tailor-made from what he called 'high quality, worsted wool' with leather patches sewn on the elbows of his coat. Black leather laced shoes, spats, a hat he called a 'bowler', and a thin walking cane complemented his apparel. He argued that dressing up for work made him more proficient at his duties. The fancier the clothes, the more involved the job. Today he had been working on a very complex one.

Sarah was wrapped up in a new dress uniform. Special Forces garb was very similar to the Navy's, other than some detail in cut and trim. White leggings and blouse, covered by a white, collarless, short jacket, all partially hidden by a gray, knee-length, flowing cape, and all of it trimmed in black - that was the commander's choice of clothing. She topped it off with a white officer's kepi, braided with gold leaf and a glossy, black bill. At the time she carried no weapon, but her belt was notched to take the hilt chain for a saber sheath.

They hurried away from the swarming crowds and soon found the narrow walkway that entered a little park. Slowing to a casual stroll, Jebbson again took up the conversation, leaning close, lowering his voice. "First, let me tell you, I do enjoy your company and I do like you very much. So I never find my time wasted when in your presence. That aside, it's business before pleasure, you know. So business is my primary reason for this encounter."

Sarah smiled to herself. This Jebbson always refreshed her spirit. He loved her, cared for her, treated her with respect, yet he did understand her past and never made any attempt to stir up old feelings unless necessary. What he had done at lunch this day was deliberate. There was a lesson from the discussion and she needed to study it and learn from the things it revealed.

Jebbson began to explain the role they were to play in future events. "These people have produced notable leaders. They have been brave, bold and, like Mihai, very charismatic." He raised his hand into the air, index finger extended. "But they have few great commanders."

Sarah stopped, her face revealing her surprise. "What do you mean? If one is a great leader, how can they not be a great commander? Your soldiers must trust the one who orders them into battle. They need someone to lead the charge."

"All you say is true, for the most part," Jebbson agreed, then asked, "Tell me, please, how do I send a message of need to my commander when he or she is at the head of the troop, thick in combat?"

Sarah paused to ponder the question. Jebbson saw that she couldn't quite grasp what he was getting at. "Look, my dear, if you command a thousand soldiers, then leading a charge may give you a winning advantage. Yet, if you become a casualty, yourself, will your army stay together without a leader? How many battles have been turned when the officer in charge was disabled? Many, I assure you."

Sarah was in a quandary. She was beginning to understand the issue of command, yet how to deal with it was still foggy in her mind. "But if no one leads, how will the soldier follow?"

Jebbson shot back, "Leadership is not necessarily standing out front, taking the lead." He took her arm, encouraging her to walk along. "The responsibility of a good commander is to turn all of the soldiers into leaders. Each person must know the reason for the fight and be willing to carry on without someone in front issuing orders. Leadership is a taught thing. If the soldier in our army must wait on our action for everything they do, then we will all fail. No! A good commander provides the directive and the subordinates carry it out, being given the flexibility to reason out matters for themselves.

"When you can see your entire army, then one leader out in front may suffice. But," he waved an arm for emphasis, "when your army is spread beyond the horizon, how do you hold it together? A good chain of communication then becomes imperative. Creating and maintaining that communication is the mark of a good commander. It cannot be done while out in front of your troops. And that, my dear, is why I think Lowenah brought many of us here, including you."

Sarah just stared at Jebbson, her puzzlement apparent.

Jebbson explained, "Most of Lowenah's commanders have led from the front of their armies. They would march up to battle in fine lines of pageantry and glory, banners held high, and they would die in all that pageantry and glory. Armies fought up close, even when weapons arrived on the field capable of mass killing. Not only that, but the people objected to modern tools of war. To this day, veterans carry the crossbow and sword, declining the use of modern arms.

"If this war is to be won, the old ways of doing things must end. It will be difficult to re-educate the experienced soldiers. So we must attack the easier targets first...all these new, raw recruits. Besides, the urgency of the hour before the war starts doesn't give us an opportunity for creating Samurai. No! We need to produce point and shoot soldiers and then provide the ordnance that will allow them to accomplish that. To succeed at such a task, the commander must become an overseer, assigning duties to trusted lieutenants. A chain of command must be devised all the way down to the person mopping the floor."

Sarah wondered, and then asked, "How can such a thing be done unless we enslave all the people who follow us, making them obey orders by force if necessary?"

"Well," Jebbson stated, "to a degree that must be done. First, though, it is your job to train your lieutenants to obey every order you issue. You do that by making the orders clear and also providing enough latitude within them so your officers will be able to function within the orders' confines. Then you must instruct your people to educate all officers within their chains of command, and so on and so forth, until the entire army has been taught how to carry out orders and, as importantly, how to issue them. When everyone understands the gravity of command, they will submit themselves to becoming slaves to a cause." Sarah asked Jebbson additional questions concerning this style of leadership. He patiently and carefully explained his understanding of how commanding officers needed to lead in a modern war.

Later the two discussed the progress being made on her new fleet of warships. It was during this conversation that Jebbson suggested appointing crews in advance and using them to help build their own ship. "Everyone here is highly skilled and capable. They each have the ability to adjust those skills to accomplish any work necessary. Not only will the building proceed at a faster pace, the crew will feel a closer attachment to the vessel they will serve in. Loyalty can even be given to a machine."

Sarah thanked him for such insight and said she would take such suggestions under serious consideration. By the time they had returned to the upper part of the city, the place where Trisha had secured offices for Jebbson and his staff, the afternoon was well along. From up here, a person had an excellent view of the valley that stretched south from Oros. Once again, the machine shops and factories were busy, filled with mechanics and machinists of every trade and craft. Night and day, smoke rose from the new foundries further to the south. Their furnaces boiled up concoctions that their forges hammered into new machines destined to create death and slaughter.

A heavy sigh escaped Sarah's lips. "My friend," she took hold of Jebbson's arm, "when I first arrived here, I honestly believed the world of hate and violence was left far behind me. Since that time, I have removed dozens of Asotos' people far from this land. I did it because it was the right thing to do, not because I enjoyed it. At least, I wish to hope I didn't enjoy it." She shrugged. "My point is, in all my dreams I had never expected to have to face misery and death in my new home. I sometimes wonder if I would have struggled so hard to achieve this place had I really known what it was like."

Jebbson closed his hand over hers. They made a strange-looking couple, not only in appearance, but also in stature. Jebbson was all of only five feet and nine inches tall, and medium build. On the other hand, Sarah stood well over six feet and was large boned and muscular. Although stunningly attractive, she still made Jebbson appear almost as a child next to her. Yet these two people never saw each other in that light. When with this man, Sarah felt almost the child. He stood as her protector and mentor. He made her feel good about herself, good about life.

After a long pause, Jebbson spoke up. "You know, my dear, I think you would have volunteered for this job had you known it was available. As much as we all have come to some kind of disappointment at seeing the mess this place is really in, I don't think any of us would wish to miss what's about to happen. Deep down inside, we have all found a real purpose to our lives in this place. We know what we're doing here is vital and appreciated. These people truly respect anything we can do to help. Lowenah doesn't make frivolous decisions. She knew what she was doing bringing you here."

Sarah thanked him for such kind words and offered her leave. Jebbson in turn requested, "Tomorrow I'm supposed to travel to RadapNasi to visit some of our new factories. If you're able, I'd like the company. Some of the work being done there involves your Special Forces. The tram rail is slow, but it passes through some beautiful hill country. It gives a person time to relax and think."

A smile of appreciation crept across Sarah's face. "Yes, I would like that very much. I have taken no break in weeks and, since this would be business, I can see no one faulting me for going. Thank you."

"Excellent!" Jebbson exclaimed. "I will meet you at Oros' main station at six. We must leave early in order to accomplish our rounds. If we finish at a reasonable hour, I know of an excellent dining establishment that offers pleasant entertainment."

Sarah gave Jebbson the eye, as if to say, 'how can you luxuriate in such pleasures at a time like this?'

Jebbson laughed and, as though he had been reading her mind, quipped, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Sarah wrinkled her face in mock disgust. "All right Jack, have it your way this time. But let me warn you with the wisdom of my mother, 'The oil burns up faster when the lute sings into the night'."

"A point well taken, my dear! A point well taken!" Jebbson laughed. "I will make sure Cinderella is home before midnight."

Sarah had no idea what Jebbson meant by the name he had used to describe her. Jebbson could see her total lack of understanding. He raised a hand to her face and gently brushed her cheek with two fingers and winked. "Tomorrow, my dear, tomorrow... We have a lengthy ride in the morning. I will tell you the story of Cinderella on our journey to RadapNasi. Oh, and by the way..." Jebbson reached out and lifted one side of Sarah's jacket. "You know, you Special Forces guys ought ta be havin' somthin' special to signify your purpose. After all, when you come callin' on those Stasis Pirates, you need to have the appropriate callin' card. Now trust me on this. I think a black patch with a white skull and crossbones would be fitting. Oh, and yeah, you should make your guys feel more independent. Have 'em do somthin' like paint pictures or threatenin' words on the noses of their ships - somthin' real personal for them pirates to think about."

Sarah thanked Jebbson and said that she would run his last idea past her staff. She then again offered parting salutations. They gave each other a gentle kiss on the cheek and departed, Sarah to the base to inform her staff of tomorrow's plans, Jebbson to finish some blueprint drawings.

The man turned and hurried into the building, leaping up the stairs to his workshops and offices where his staff and others were busy designing new machines of war. He flew past his fellow colleagues and workers, heading for his office. Pushing open the door in a rush, he dove into his room, almost crushing the lone figure who fell back to avoid the encounter. Taken very much by surprise, it took Jebbson a moment to recognize who was there.

The person kindly chided, "When the rabbit becomes fat and happy, he fears not his own rabbit hole. But that's where the weasel will lie in wait. What a pity to lose such a handsome rabbit to such an ignominious fate."

The shock quickly fled as a huge, toothy smile broke across Jebbson's face. "My dear Trisha, lord of all the poor, two-footed mules and burden-bearers, what brings you to my humble rabbit hole this warm, sunny day?"

Trisha poked Jebbson in the belly with a finger. "Oh, so sweet and charming he is when I have seen him bantering with another bunny. Should I shoot him and eat him and hang his hide out to dry? No! I think not, for I have already waited far too long to see him. An hour has been my imprisonment while I've lingered here for his company."

"My apologies..." Jebbson then admitted, "Had I known my covey would have been graced with such a beauty as you, I might have hurried back sooner. On the other hand, since I perceive your presence as possibly troublesome, I may have lingered in the graces of a more kindly and gentler bird."

"All right! All right!" Trisha cried. "I surrender! You win again. I cannot compete with your winsome and oftentimes silly sayings. But I think I did better this time."

"Very much so!" Jebbson laughed, "Very much so! Now tell me, please, what has dragged you so far from your home? And where is your faithful adjutant?"

"First," Trisha replied, frowning, "Zadar is not an adjutant. He is part of my executive staff and, as such, often carries out responsible missions for me. For the past several days, he's been visiting with one of our future commanders."

"Oh, he's been babysitting that little brat, has he?" Jebbson's face soured. "Yes sir, that's a heavy responsibility all right."

Trisha responded in surprise. "Jebbson Garlock, you speak so harshly. Have you even met our little darling yet? I have been told she can be sweet and kind. Besides, Lowenah seems so fond of her. I hear, as of late, she has lavished all her attention on that girl."

"Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting her acquaintance," Jebbson quipped. "I speak of her as she has currently been acting. I know the child will grow and mature to become one of the three swords, but I think the price we will pay for her to attain such a place will be painful and heavy."

Trisha agreed, quickly changing the subject. "But let me get on with why I'm here." She moved forward and deposited a small folder on Jebbson's drafting table. "I had these made into paper copies for you because of your fondness for creating more litter." Jebbson thanked her for such kindness. "I need your assistance away from here as soon as possible."

"Whoa, why the rush?" Jebbson complained. "At the moment, I'm swamped with our current projects."

Trisha stopped him. "I don't have time to fully explain right now. You'll find all you need to know in the report I've left with you. The gist of the matter is this. There are several small colonies in the Trizentine that contain some unique and specialized manufacturing operations. We have been in process of dismantling and moving those we feel are important to our needs. The problem is, for some unknown reason, Stasis Pirate activities have suddenly increased in the area. We have also received reports of a buildup of the enemy fleet just across our borders there.

"It makes no sense to us why Asotos would be gathering his navy to that place. We've even heard that Godenn has left Memphis for parts unknown, although some of our spies claimed to have seen a hefty contingent of ships coming from that direction, heading toward the Trizentine. Anyway, because of all this activity, the council concluded it unsafe for us to allow our transports to travel unsupported in the area. This means we have to be more selective in rescuing our manufacturing facilities.

"I want you to go there. The admiral has agreed to lend us a warship so you can more quickly accomplish your mission. Set up a priority schedule with our people. This will let us retrieve the most valuable assets we have there. It shouldn't take you many weeks to finish the task. I've already had a list made up of the places you're to go, what is produced, and its current value to us. I felt you should personally check things out because you're working on machines that may have special requirements that others aren't aware of. You may see the need to change priorities. I give you a free hand in doing that."

"I need some time to put this place in order." Jebbson complained. "The work here is critical for the immediate future, for our well being. I will have to set up my team to handle things while I'm gone."

Trisha countered, "Omri is pulling out in two weeks to lead a convoy of replacement troops and supplies to the Third Fleet. I have already made arrangements for your passage aboard Starlight, my personal ship, placed at your disposal for the journey. That should give you the needed time to get your act together here. You see, I take care of my officers." She looked Jebbson over and wrinkled up her face. "You are an officer, you know...on Mihai's staff and presently placed under my command. Make sure you dress accordingly for the trip. I don't want people mistaking you for some... what do you say? Oh yes, for some vagabond just out hitching a ride. Do you understand?"

Jebbson smiled. He snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"

Trisha frowned, slapping him on his arm. "That's enough of that! Just do as you're told and stop making fun." She squeezed his hand and turned to go, but suddenly stopped up short. "I almost forgot!" Turning around, she retrieved a scented letter from her inner pocket, presenting it to Jebbson. "Just got this from Planetee by mail freight. It has your name on it. Looks to me like you made a friend."

She said good-bye and left the office. Jebbson lifted the letter to his nose and inhaled a long breath of the envelope's intoxicating fragrance. Soon he was busy pouring over the penned message delivered to him, the torn envelope having drifted to the floor.

* * *

Chasileah glanced toward the cloudless sky as she wiped dirty sweat from her forehead. Clods of baked clay mixed with gritty gypsum dust filled the air from the pounding hooves of the mounted company's many horses. Field Marshal Trisha had decided to make an inspection of the new officer corps training camps at Satahapar. The name meant 'to drink dust' and it had been aptly awarded such a title. A light shower earlier that morning was now not even a memory in this desperate land.

Through some twist of nature, the high mountains west of Oros combined with a geological shift far under the surface of the planet, causing Satahapar to become a desolate, high desert surrounded by grassy plains and wooded mountains. This 'island of festering anger' as many came to call it was ideally suited for military training. Located less than twenty leagues northeast of Oros, it stretched eastward for another sixty, and spanned nearly one hundred leagues wide. Every kind of torturous terrain and temperature range anyone could hope or dread finding, from midsummer days clawing their way to well above a hundred degrees to winter nights where it could fall to forty below zero was found here.

Chasileah scanned the countryside, barren hills with little or no life other than the lonely desert rat or a scurrying tarantula. Carefully studying these surroundings, she discovered familiar outcroppings that, although severely weathered, gave her a point of reference. She remembered visiting this place so long ago, but it was much different then. Yes, once, where they were now riding, she had sailed in a little wooden boat and small cottages and farms dotted the shoreline. That was before the lower strata changed, causing the underworld of molten rock and noxious gasses to bubble forth, drying up or polluting the waters, leaving an arid wasteland filled with frothing geysers and acrid, boiling mineral pools. Now she struggled to take a breath as beating hooves tore away the ancient lakebed, kicking up choking clouds of gritty dust.

To add to their misery were the new garments issued to every soldier in training, including instructors and commanding officers. All uniforms used during that time were to be made from simple cloth, not from smart, climate-controlled material. There was little comfort provided by them other than what protection was offered from the boiling sun and, at other times, the biting wind.

To help harden the raw troops was not the only reason these new uniforms were so basic. There was a severe shortage of supplies. The sudden increase in all branches of the service put a strain on everyone. Chasileah could now see just how unprepared her people were for war. There were few warehoused goods, including uniforms and weapons. Why, even food was being rationed at times. The new industry would eventually catch up with their needs, but it would be 'nip and tuck', as Jebbson would say, for some time to come.

Things were so different from Chasileah's earlier soldiering days. There was no longer going to be the relaxed family atmosphere like one would find in the old Army. This new officer training camp was an example of change as well as the camp uniforms made of coarse flaxen or cotton, even wool blends - anything that could be woven into cloth. They were of simple cut, a 'one size fits all', comprised of loose-fitting leggings, a long-sleeved, thigh-length blouse and closed-toed sandals that laced up the calf. A stamped metal helmet with a removable padded lining, so that the helmet's steel shell might serve any other necessity, finished their attire.

There were other changes in this new army. Many rules and regulations had recently been put in place - rules, it was hoped that would quickly toughen inexperienced recruits for the rigors of the coming war.

Just that morning, the field marshal had addressed a gathering of officers in training, explaining what was expected of them. Chasileah recollected what she heard. There was to be no more fraternization of any kind between officers and enlisted soldiers. As Trisha explained, 'It has been the decision of the Council that for the best performance of the new military machine, all officers are to discontinue any relationships with non-officer soldiers. This includes all romantic and intimate affairs, social gatherings, even private, personal conversations, unless opted through proper channels.' She expressed the need for officers to remain aloof from the noncommissioned soldier so that proper military discipline could be maintained.

Trisha then pointed out to the new officer candidates, few of whom had ever been active in real combat and many never even had been in the military, 'It will be your responsibility to order the death, if necessary, of your own soldiers. How easy will it be for you to fill a ruptured breach, order a charge, abandon the wounded and dying when dreams of lovemaking with the person you're consigning to the fire still burns hot in your mind? How will you think clearly if you are looking at faces instead of objectives? No! It is better to deaden your body to all feeling and emotion than to hesitate to act swiftly on the field of battle!'

Continuing in the same line of thought, the field marshal went on. 'From this day forward, your sergeants will become your mouthpiece to and for those of lower rank, other than when you're in general assembly or issuing orders. Should you live to attain a rank above lieutenant, then you will view your junior officers in the same capacity as you did the enlisted soldiers. You no longer have any friends, lovers, brothers or sisters surrounding you. You are an officer. You are now the oil that keeps a very complex machine running smoothly. That is your job, your only job!'

Trisha also took time to define the chain of command, explaining that many of the titles were taken from military terms found in the Second Realm. 'It has been the decision of the King's Council to adopt a similar order of rank found among the armies of the Realms Below. The people of that world are more practiced at war and already have an excellent vocabulary for us to choose words from.' She then proceeded to provide a rough outline of the rank-of-command in the Army.

The new enlistee started at private 3rd class, advancing to 2nd, and then to 1st. The next level was corporal 2nd class, advancing to 1st. Sergeant, the highest level of noncommissioned officer, began at sergeant 4th grade, then progressively up through until first sergeant, 1st grade. The final level was master sergeant, 1st grade. A sergeant major was an optional position a colonel might bestow within his command.

Officers started at rank of third lieutenant, advancing to second, then to centurion lieutenant, an officer commanding one hundred enlistees, and finally 1st lieutenant, who officered directly under the command of the captain. The next rank above captain was major 2nd commander, progressing to major 1st commander, followed by lieutenant colonel, then full colonel.

The upper echelon of command proceeded with brigadier general, major general or corps commander, and finally lieutenant general. The commanding generals leading each of Trisha's four armies were also officially titled 'lieutenant field marshal', and each of her four chief staff officers was titled, 'general enstaff'. In detailing the chain of command, Trisha emphasized that all staff officers on official business, regardless of rank, represented their respective commander and were to be obeyed thusly.

It had been decided to implement all the new changes immediately with the current and future enlistees and officer recruits. Little else would be done with the veteran corps other than the redesign of the command structure. Mihai and her war council recognized the possible difficulties long-time soldiers and higher ranking officers might have in making needed adjustments, working with what was to become the largest military machine Lowenah's children had ever built.

Those of the old school who couldn't adapt well would be placed in more specialized regiments and companies. Many were already leaning toward joining Special Forces or the newly created Marine divisions. This fluidity of movement was one of the privileges no longer enjoyed in the new Army. In the old Army, a person became an officer if they signed up for a permanent stint in the military. They could resign at any time, and often bounced around between Army and Navy, the two fields often blurring. Many also became fighter pilots for a time, it being a branch under the guidance of the Navy. Now things were changing.

The various branches were clearly defined and separated from each other, the Navy and Marines being the last hold out of the old ways. Although Mihai could authorize personnel changes between branches or even set up liaison officers who maintained their authority between or among the different fields, it would be a rarity. Now, once a recruit received an officer's position within a certain branch, he or she would remain there. There also was no longer an automatic officer status for just offering permanent service. Every new recruit was trained in a school of sorts, and needed to pass the rigorous standards that had been established before becoming an officer.

Chasileah was deeply absorbed, pondering the real value of all these changes, when a voice shouted back to her, "Major, to the front of the column!" She spurred her horse and galloped to the lead of the line, which was now cresting a knoll. At the front of the troop there was no longer any dust blocking her vision. She could see in the distance their objective, several tiny dots far off on the vast salt basin. Trisha again addressed her staff officer. "Soon you shall see first hand how we are educating new officers for the rigors of war. I will seek your input at a later time. For now, please, silence."

Treston had been busy from before sunrise. Training new officer hopefuls was always a demanding job, but the shortness of time available to bring so many online was taxing for everyone. Three to four hours sleep was a blessed rarity. The night before, he'd been allowed a wonderful five. When all official business was finished, he rode out to see how well that training was going. At the moment, he was sitting on his horse, inspecting war games with one group of trainees.

About forty men and women were engaged in hand-to-hand combat, using long wooden poles with batten on the ends. Over their standard uniform each combatant wore a straw-matted chest piece that covered him or her from neck to hips. The din of crashing rods was mixed with grunts and occasional moans of weary soldiers as they fought for high ground near a steep little ravine. It was well past midday and these soldiers had received no food since before sunrise. That was having a telling effect.

Closely studying the moves and actions of his charges, Treston grew irritated. Dismounting and walking over to the instructor, he motioned toward two of the combatants. The sergeant ordered them to leave off their sparring and present themselves to the colonel, on the double.

Treston paused, glowering at the man and woman as they neared. The man was nearly six feet tall and medium build. The woman stood about five and a half feet and still carried many of her soft features. She wasn't 'weathered in' yet, as some would call the conditioning received from basic training.

The colonel placed his hands on his hips, shouting so all could hear, "What kind of silly ass dance do you call what you were doing?" Looking at the man, he sharply reprimanded him. "You should have driven her skull in five minutes ago! What's wrong? Is she some favorite puppy of yours? That creature is your enemy! It wants to kill you! You are supposed to kill it first!"

Some of the trainees nearby stopped to see the ruckus. The drill instructor shouted, "What are you gawkin' at? Get back to your duties!"

Treston turned and mockingly addressed the woman. "What do we have here, some miserable excuse of a soldier who feels that a pretty smile will disarm her adversary?" Leaning into her face, Treston snarled, "Why are you wasting my instructor's time by even being here? Why don't you go home and knit some mittens for the real warriors?"

The woman was stunned by Treston's scathing rebuke. Tears grew in her eyes, but she did not falter. "Sir, I have joined to help in this cause! I will not go home!"

"Oh, you won't, will you?" The colonel's voice seethed with contempt. "We will soon see about that!" He reached out and grabbed the other trainee's stick. "Give me that truncheon!" then screamed at the woman, "Fight me or die!"

With that, Treston took a swing at the woman's face. She blocked it, neatly stepping aside, evading his counterstrike. Again and again blows came and, again and again the woman fended them off, yet they were taking a toll. Slowly she was giving ground, being driven back toward the ravine. A block to the head, then one to the side, again to the head, once more to the side - it was becoming a pattern now. Soon the woman was preparing for the next attack before Treston had moved his stave in that direction.

All the while the cadet was defending herself from his advances, Treston hurled one verbal insult after another at her, from criticizing her appearance to ridiculing the day of her birth. The colonel did not sink to the foul depths that he often did in his former days in the Second Realm, but his words were as demeaning and biting as always. The more she backed away, the more he threatened, "You're gonna die, little lady! I'm gonna smash that pretty skull of yours right in two! It'll send a message to all the little piss-ants who want to join up, thinking they're somethin' special! Ya should a' stayed home, ya little twitter bird! Stayed home an' hid under your bed. I'll teach ya not to be so stupid!"

They had worked their way to the edge of the precipice by this time. Then Treston opened up with his coup de main. The woman had become used to the rhythmic assault the colonel was practicing on her and she wasn't prepared for his next move. He faked the strike for her head and, at the last instant, swung low, delivering a crushing blow to her mid calf. Pain shot up her frame, exploding with a blinding flash in her eyes. Before she could recover, he drove up with the other end of the club hard, into her groin. That hit knocked the wind from the woman. She doubled forward in agony. Another strike, this time to the face, picked her off her feet and hurled her backward, pitching her over the edge of the ravine.

Down the stony bank the cadet tumbled, head over heels, crashing and sliding to the dry, gravel creek bed below. At first there was no movement from the dust-covered pile sprawled on the sun-baked stones. Then the woman began to move, finally pushing herself over, until lying spread-eagle in the draw. She lay there, moaning in pain, rolling her head from side to side, trying to regain her senses.

"Get up, you miserable little dung worm!" Treston screamed down at her. "Get up, or I'll come down and finish the job!"

By now the attention of most of the cadets was focused on the colonel and his hapless victim lying on the canyon floor. Some of the soldiers moved to assist her. "Leave her be," Treston ordered, "or you'll face the same fate!" He turned to the captain. "Who gave these people permission to take a break?"

"No one, Sir!" the sergeant shouted back. "I'll take care of it, Sir!" He then barked out commands for the others to get back to their practice.

The woman began struggling to stand. "Faster, you rotten piece of raven meat!" Treston threatened. "Faster, or I'll help you, and you won't like that!"

The woman staggered to her feet and started the long crawl up the steep sides of the draw. As her hands clawed into the loose sand and gravel and her feet pushed ever upward, she puked up what little food remained in her system. She dare not stop for fear that the colonel would carry out his promise to kill her.

She eventually attained the ridge by crawling on her elbows and knees. There, exhausted, the woman flopped onto the ground. By now she looked a terrible sight, hair and face covered with filth, bleeding from several cuts and scrapes, cloths torn and helmet missing. There was a huge slash cut across her face where Treston had slammed it with the staff. Her right cheek was cut almost to the bone and the eye above it was swollen nearly shut.

"Get up, you!" the commander shouted in her ear. "I haven't given you permission to take a break! Get up or I'll kick you back into the draw...and this time leave you for the vultures to eat!" He nudged her in the side with a boot.

Groaning in almost blinding pain, the woman slowly pushed herself up with her hands and, struggling to move, managed to stand in front of the colonel. He grinned, "Good! Very good! But your work isn't finished..."

Treston then ordered the woman's former sparring partner to get down on his hands and knees. Then he pressed the woman, "That man is wounded and the enemy is approaching. What are you going to do? If you leave him, there is no one who will afford him rescue. What are you going to do?"

Anger flashed in the woman's eyes...no, almost hatred. Gasping for breath, she spit out, "I'll get him, sir! I'll bring him myself!"

She bent down and, with excruciating effort, managed to roll the man onto her back. Then, half-carrying and half-dragging her injured comrade, with exhausted grunts and muffled moans, the cadet began to stagger toward the road. The entire time, Treston did not let up with his humiliating remarks and verbal tirade.

Making it to the road, the woman started for the supply wagons, some half mile away. Treston watched as her breathing became shallow. Soon her nose began to bleed. In a little while, bloody foam and mucus flowed from her mouth. Another twenty feet and the woman just collapsed, face down in the dirt.

It was at that moment that Trisha's entourage arrived. Chasileah watch in horror as the woman fell, but she obeyed her commander, saying nothing. Treston glanced up. He then ordered the man off and told him to hurry for water.

The colonel then got down on one knee and started to gently rub the woman's back, leaning in close, softly offering words of encouragement. "There, my little one... there. It will be all right. You're a brave soldier. I would be proud to have you as one of my lieutenants."

The woman moved. She was conscious but groggy. Instantly, she understood why the colonel had done what he had. She offered a weak smile.

Treston said, "Now, my child, the heart is willing to move the world to save a fellow comrade, but the body has its limits. You must learn those limits if you are to survive on the field of glory."

The fellow cadet had returned with some water. Treston called four others over to assist in carrying the woman to the medical tent. "Get her back to base quickly! See to it that this soldier is properly nursed and her needs are taken care of."

The others carefully picked the woman up and gently carried her off to the supply wagons. Moments later, a canvas-covered truck was churning up a dust storm as it rumbled toward the base.

The colonel was now called over to the waiting party. Trisha sat her horse, expressionless as usual. She watched Chasileah's face, the woman's concern and horror little diminished. She then asked Treston, "Was that really so necessary?"

Treston's eyes followed Trisha's to Chasileah. Looking back at the commander, he addressed the question. "You have many women in the ranks, something I am not that familiar with. Yet I do understand the need and accept it. What a woman lacks in power over a man she must make up in cunning and skill. Her opponent on the field will not compensate her for the difference in strength and might. It is better for me to injure my sister here than to allow her ruin on the field of battle."

Trisha looked back at Chasileah. What the colonel said was true, but oh, what a terrible way to teach the lesson!

Treston added, "That cadet is the best of all the lot I saw here, even of the men. When your hero can be taken down so quickly, you begin to see the strength of the enemy who is set against you. What that girl suffered through today may well save the lives of many of the people observing it."

"Very well, then," Trisha concluded, "now to the business of the day."

The field marshal dismounted and, following her lead, the remainder of her party did the same. She called Treston near and introduced him to a few members of the company. "This is General DinChizki. He will be leading the First Army in its coming adventures." She then introduced Chasileah. "The major, whom I believe you've already met, is my chief staff commissary officer, and is also my liaison officer for the health and well-being of army personnel."

Treston extended his hand as he made his salutation. As their eyes met, he could still see the hurt in Chasileah's from the recent demonstration of the colonel's methods of instruction.

In a tone of voice that still reflected her disapproval, Chasileah queried, "Tell me, Colonel, should I find myself in such a dilemma - I mean wounded on the field with the enemy approaching - would you abandon me to the wolves?"

"My Lady," Treston gave a single nod and dropped his hand to his side, "there are no favorites on the field of battle, as I believe you are already well aware of. I will do what must be done to make victory complete. The cost to the individual is of little value in comparison to the survival of the whole. All of us, as individuals, are expendable and none of us above death. When it comes and how it comes is not often under our control. Nor can we always salvage the things that are precious to us." He paused. "Major, to answer your question, I would even abandon myself if necessary, if it served for the betterment of the cause."

Trisha interjected by introducing a few more of her officers and staff. Finally, a tall, dark-haired man stepped forward. Trisha turned toward him and then back to Treston, smiling. "Allow me to present to you your new commander, General PalaHar."

Treston extended his hand, offering a friendly greeting. General PalaHar smiled, grasped his hand, giving it a hearty shake and addressed him. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although I have studied your valor and leadership as a captain in one of your mighty legions, it has always been from afar. Now we have opportunity to be joined in mutual cause. I do look forward to observing your abilities at closer proximity."

Trisha interrupted, "General PalaHar is a personal steward of Lowenah. He has been her standard bearer for many centuries and was part of her honor guard at the last prisoner exchange. The Maker of All Things does not send him away without good reason. I believe this you have already guessed."

Treston silently nodded.

"I thought as much," Trisha acknowledged. "That being the case, I am also sure you are wondering why we have tracked you down to report the news that the general is your new commander."

"Yes, please," requested the colonel. "Would you be kind enough to divulge what reasons exist to place me in the company of such a highly distinguished officer of Lowenah's court?"

Trisha laughed, "The answer, my friend, may both impress and trouble you, I'm sure. You see, there is a great need for your services in training a new cadet...one who will test your mettle and your will. Her training under your guiding hand will begin in two or three weeks. That's when the first stage of her instruction will have been completed. I think you should be impressed at being considered so valuable."

"I am, thank you. But one cadet?" Treston asked. "Is it truly necessary to assign me to only one trainee?"

"Yes!" Trisha exclaimed. "It has been for this very purpose, I have been informed, that you were delivered to the Realms Above, to help bring this child to maturity and assist her in fulfilling a destiny placed before her long ago. You, my friend, started her on the journey to this place, and so it shall be that you will help her finish it."

A puzzled expression grew on Treston's face. For several seconds he pondered what the field marshal was referring to. Suddenly, his face went ashen and a breath of surprise and despair escaped him. "Ishtar?"

Trisha gave a nod.

He cried, "My Lord, no! This cannot be! Please, this child? How can I...? Why, I am not even fit to lace up her sandal. Please allow this request of yours to pass on to a more fitting and worthy candidate. Please permit your servant to decline this assignment."

Trisha laughed again, slapping him on the shoulder. "Dear Colonel Treston, I will do no such thing! Even if I wished to, it is beyond my power to satisfy your request. May I recommend your taking the matter up with Lowenah next time you see her. She is the one from whom this order originated. Now be a good officer, as I know you are, and carry out your directives."

Treston saw no reason for argument. His greatest fear was being realized at last. How could he, the man who cast the child to death, the man responsible for her torture in the prison, the man who was accomplice to her murder...how could he even face her, let alone be her instructor? How would she even allow him in her presence? With a heavy heart, he asked, "Tell me please, my Lord, why me? Why not one of greater wisdom and valor? Why her murderer and not a friend?"

Trisha laughed again, grinning from ear to ear, asking, "Has our captain over thousands become morose over the feelings of one child?" She paused, studying his face. "I'm sorry to have made fun. Excuse me, please."

Treston sadly nodded.

Trisha offered explanation. "My ears have not been privy to all the secrets of my Master's house, but I do know this. You and the child are sharers in many things. Her ways and customs were your ways and customs. You and she are bonded in the blood by the situation of her death. To you she will one day be able to draw close and from you eventually find comfort, because you will fully understand all the things done to her that are still secrets to all save a few. The girl will fear your words more than she will others because she still carries the dread of your king from days of old, and you will still represent his power and authority to her. There is more to tell, but what I have said is sufficient for the moment."

Treston decided there was nothing else for it. He trusted Lowenah, believing in her wisdom. Although his being delivered here still confounded him and gnawed at his mind as to just what she was thinking when she did so. Still, if it were the will of the Court to order his destiny thusly, he would accept such a judgment, his practiced, loyal obedience fating him to such a road. Resigning himself to that course, he let out a sigh and offered, "Here is your servant to do the will of my Lords."

Trisha expressed her pleasure, showing a huge, toothy smile and again patting Treston on the arm. "Good! Good! I had told General PalaHar that the chains and extra guards would be unnecessary..." She then stated his immediate orders. "In four weeks, the first of our cadets will have completed their primary training and will move on to whatever special fields they are assigned to. Once you have issued those orders to our new officers, you will leave for your next assignment. General PalaHar is preparing to leave tomorrow for Palace City where you will join him. When you arrive, he will have already started Ishtar's instruction. He will inform her of the history of your final years in the Second Realm. That should help ease some of the tension as the two of you get reacquainted."

Treston thanked Trisha for her kindness.

The field marshal then concluded, "The general will have a strategy in place by the time you arrive. He and you are to work together in training Ishtar. It is necessary for the child to be ready to take command of troops shortly after we establish a bridgehead on MueoPoros."

Trisha touched Treston's lower arm. "Colonel, you have a way of getting right to the point. You waste few words when educating your students as to the arts of war. We trust you will continue to act in the same efficient manner with your new cadet." She paused in thought. After a moment, she asked, "Is there anything I can do to provide assistance to you with this most important assignment?"

Treston carefully considered the request before answering. "Yes, there is one thing. I would like to have an able junior officer assist me in my duties, one who will also be able to easily gain Ishtar's trust."

Trisha smile, "That's an easy enough request. I suppose you have a person already in mind?"

"Yes, thank you, Commander," Treston replied. "The woman cadet I parried with today would be an excellent candidate for my needs. If you would allow her to be assigned to me upon completion of her training here, it would be most kind."

"Should we also dig her a grave in the Silent Tombs, or is it just her spirit you wish to destroy?" Chasileah caustically spouted, the words escaping as she thought them.

Shocked expressions on the faces of her fellow officers reinforced her own realization that she had been out of line. She had disobeyed a direct order from her commanding officer, being told to remain silent. There was no excuse. A trusted officer needed to keep his or her feelings in check. She deserved reprimand or even worse.

Treston's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. He said nothing, only staring into Chasileah's face. After a long silence, he turned to the field marshal and requested, "Permission to speak freely, Commander." Trisha approved.

Looking into Chasileah's eyes, the colonel, controlling his voice in a mild retort, addressed the major's cutting innuendos. "My life has been but a shadow of time in comparison to yours. All the while, it was glutted with violence, pain and strife. Many things I have done that moral men would decry and call offensive or shameful. A 'heathen', a 'bully', a 'self-righteous, over-indulgent bastard'...these are but a few of the names you could rightfully call me."

He raised his hand, extending his finger toward Chasileah. "But I have never allowed undue harm to come to the people in my charge! Never have I abandoned another soldier to the enemy unless I had no other recourse. I have put my life in front of the soul of even the lowliest of my servants. My men were taught how to fight in a manner so as to survive on the field where their only comrade was the sword and only defense the shield. I did not lift one man above another in choosing who was to live or die. One brother and two cousins fell at my side while I pulled a stranger to safety."

Those words stung deep in Chasileah's heart, as she recalled her own weakness on the field, passing up others to save Zadar.

His explosive rebuff continued. "I drive my lieutenants as I do myself. If one is to die, it is better to do so among friends and not in front of the enemy. If you do not push your charges to the limit when they are learning war, then they will often learn it on the field at much greater cost. I refuse to mourn the loss of a comrade because I failed him. If you do not like my way of training the souls of which I stand guard over, then find one who will pander to your wishes! Let their blood rest on your shoulders!"

Chasileah had nothing to say. She cast her eyes away, staring shamefully at the ground.

Trisha quickly spoke up. "Major, consider yourself reprimanded for disregarding a direct order. May this serve as a lesson for us all." She then addressed Treston's request. "I trust to your judgment, Colonel. If you desire that cadet to be your aide-de-camp, I find no trouble with it."

The field marshal turned to the others. "There is much activity yet to accomplish before we may entertain an evening meal. Our business is finished here and time is wasting." She mounted her horse and the others quickly followed her lead. In moments, her troop had disappeared into a cloud of thick dust.

Treston turned back to the remaining cadets. He wondered how to get them to engage each other in real combat. If he offered the winners a reward, each of them would try to lose. He pondered those things in his mind. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers as a smile grew on his face. He called the sergeant to assemble the recruits.

When all had gathered, the colonel went on to express his regrets. "I have been informed that there are only enough rations for half the company. It is my decision to provide that food to the weakest and weariest among you. I shall give you all opportunity to help me identify the deserving ones who will receive the repast. Pick up your weapons and drive the weak opponents over the precipice. Those who fall to your blows shall feast."

It was with deep satisfaction that Treston watched as a great combat erupted along the edge of the draw. None would willingly surrender, but each one was determined to give to his or her starving opponent the limited refreshment. The draw gradually filled with bruised and bloodied warriors. And, to his surprise, many of the women cadets went hungry that day.

* * *

It had been a long, arduous two years and the miners were joyous to be returning after so long a time in the asteroid fields of TilgathPilneser. The rewards for all their work had been paltry, making the outlanders even more homesick than usual. The arrival of the collier, MoonDust, on its annual passage to Sustrepho was fortuitous for these tired laborers. They would now be able to arrive at ChailDeiah, a tiny colony on that planet, months ahead of schedule.

MoonDust was a small transport vessel, shipping about eight hundred tonnes. It supplied needed fuel rods to generating power plants that served several frontier colonies like TilgathPilneser, where solar and other energy sources were insufficient to sustain habitation. When completing its circuit, the ship would return to Desiah, dropping off the spent rods and loading new ones for another trip. At Desiah, the spent fuel rods were either rejuvenated or broken down to remove any risk of radiation.

It was just past the dinner hour when the first mate notified the captain that two ships were shadowing them. "Stasis!" he muttered, as he jumped from his seat and exited the tiny galley.

Upon entering the command cabin, the captain scanned the monitor to find the location of the phantom vessels. They were moving fast and closing, one on their starboard and the other directly astern. He could clearly see that their target was MoonDust, but it made little sense to him. First, Stasis Pirates seldom worked in teams. Most of the time they acted like lone wolves...or maybe it was weasels. Second, they were on a main trade route. Stasis prowled the back-waters, places where there was little chance of encountering a fleet patrol ship.

The captain also wondered at the intent of pursuit. By now, projection radar should have returned pictures to the other ships, identifying their intended victim to be a collier out of Desiah. There was little of value on board for any Stasis. Fuel rods were inexpensive and common, but also potentially dangerous. That's why specially built colliers like MoonDust were used to deliver new rods. The ore and rough jewels that the miners carried were also of little value. Besides, how would the Stasis Pirates know those people were aboard? No. Something didn't feel right, but the captain couldn't put his finger on it.

When the lead phantom ship closed within short-range communication, it heralded MoonDust to stop and prepare for boarding. In an anxious voice, the first mate asked if they should send a distress signal.

"I think not...not yet," the captain cautiously replied. "We shouldn't have much to fear, unless they become angry. There is nothing of real value on board, and I doubt it's the ship they want, seeing the cargo it carries. Few of them have the ability or patience it takes to operate such complex generating systems as use this fuel." He sighed, "Let them board and have a look around. What food and supplies we have, they're welcome to. I think we carry sufficient quantities of those things to pacify them enough to avoid violence."

A short while later, two ships came drifting in upon MoonDust. The larger one pulled up alongside, about a quarter mile on its port while the smaller ship passed by, stopping about a mile ahead and starboard the collier.

In only moments, several hatches opened along the top and sides of the larger ship. From them, half a dozen small, self-propelled pods exited and headed for their hapless victim. These little pods were commonly called 'sculls' or 'scullers **'**. They were modified versions of ship-to-ship shuttles, ranging in length from fifteen to thirty feet, and able to carry from eight to twenty-four occupants. The pilot and drive engines were located in the rear of the craft, thus the name 'sculler', and the passengers or cargo were in the front.

When the naval wars began, these scullers were modified to be used as small gunships and boarding craft. The nose of a scull was designed to fit over a door on the main ship or, if necessary, to attach directly to its hull. On the outer side of the front seal on the sculler, ordnance was mounted, allowing for the penetrating of the skin, permitting the boarding of the enemy vessel where no door existed. After setting the air lock, the gunner would blow a hole through the hull and the boarders would storm the ship. In times of peace, the sculler could also be used for its original purpose, an ordinary shuttlecraft.

A sculler locked itself over a hatch forward amidships, just behind the pilot's bridge. The remaining five sculls drifted beside MoonDust, their crews awaiting further orders while searching for other doors. Soon a loud banging was heard on the hatch. The captain motioned for assistance and hurried to the door. As it opened, a heaving mass of wild-looking men piled through the entry, spilling into the narrow chamber.

The apparent leader of the group shoved the captain back, slamming him against the wall. As that man pinned the captain there, others closed the hatch. In a few minutes another sculler had deposited its barbaric crew through the same door. This was repeated three more times. By now, there were well over forty of these Stasis thugs rummaging throughout the collier. They rounded up the remaining crew and passengers and herded them all into a nearly empty storeroom abaft the galley. A total of seventeen people - six crew and the eleven miners - all nervously huddled in the center of the room while the Stasis loudly plundered the rest of the ship.

The noise of shuttles going and coming echoed down the long narrow corridor to the storeroom. The Stasis standing guard would crane their necks from time to time to try and see what was transpiring down at the other end of that hallway. Suddenly they heard the clack of hard-soled boots hitting steel deck plates. A look of nervous disquiet filled their faces and they began to fidget with the weapons they held.

A gruff voice blasted the air, shouting, "C'mon, you lazy bastards! Get your work finished fast or I'll hard shell ya!"

It was quickly followed by an equally sinister, but more refined one. "My dear Commander, don't waste my time with your ape-boys' pursuit of trinkets and baubles. There is more important work to be finished here and soon!"

The two men stopped at the doorway and peered in, both smiling as they viewed the fear on the faces of the hostages. The man with the gruff, coarse voice was dressed as ragtag as the others, but the more refined speaker was attired in a natty, red-kilted uniform. That neatly attired officer addressed the commander. "Now, my good fellow, be off and bring back to me thirty or so of your creatures."

He looked again into the room where the five women and twelve men huddled. "Yes, that will be good." Grinning, he again eyed the Stasis commander. "Yes, that number will do." He clapped his hands. "Now hurry along! Time's wasting!"

The Stasis commander swore a trail of foul words at the officer as he hurried down the companionway. In a few minutes he returned, his men following close behind.

The neatly dressed officer, who had been whistling some little ditty while he waited, now addressed the captain of MoonDust. "My good fellow, would you please accompany us forward to the bridge and provide me with a look-see? And..." he raised his hand, extending a finger upward and wiggling it side to side, "I would so appreciate your encouragement for the others to also quietly do as they're told."

In a little while, crew and passengers had been separated into ones and twos then were led to various rooms on the ship. For over an hour, screams and cries for mercy rang though the metal hold of the dying vessel.

At the height of this madness, the officer took an idle stroll around the ship, eventually finding his way into the entry passage just outside the sealed chambers where the fuel rods were stored. There, a Stasis pirate busied himself with the hatch leading into the containment area. Without saying a word, the officer drew his side arm and fired an energy blast point-blank at the man's head. Instantly, his skull shattered, coating the wall with pieces of its contents. In seconds, the Stasis commander's heavy boots were heard pounding along the corridor.

"What the hell are you friggin' doing, you shit slime?" he screamed.

The officer swung his weapon around, pointing it directly at the Stasis commander as he mildly explained, "I just saved us all from a very unpleasant experience. That fool was attempting to gain access to a room alive with enough radiation to fry us all in minutes. Do you wish to argue the point, or do you agree that I had no other choice than to dispatch him before he contaminated us all?"

The Stasis commander was fuming. This was the third man he had lost to this officer in less than two weeks. Still, the restitution offered had been quite adequate for the others. "What will you pay me to let it go?"

The officer promised to richly compensate the Stasis commander for his loss. The man agreed to overlook what happened. After all, it was for the protection of everyone on board. Eventually, the officer made his way back through the ship. Along the way, he passed now silent rooms where unspeakable horrors had recently been carried out. In some places, blood flowed out the doorways, collecting in little pools on the deck plates.

As he neared the shuttle door, he encountered three of his own men as neatly dressed as he was. Two were ordered to set timed charges for the destruction of the gravity machines, temperature control and lighting systems. The other was told to accompany the officer to the pilot's bridge. They waited for the last of the Stasis Pirates to depart, leaving only himself, the Stasis commander and seven of his own men. He then ordered the ship to have its course set for Sustrepho at one quarter speed and to also send out a distress signal.

The party finally entered the last remaining sculler. After returning the Stasis commander to his ship, the officer parted company, claiming an urgent need to report to his superior. He made arrangements to join up at another location three weeks hence. The commander agreed to make the rendezvous, one he would fail to keep.

The officer made haste for the gathering fleet, hidden somewhere deep within the dust-filled asteroid fields off Candletoe, while the Stasis commander busied the crew with stowing away their newly acquired riches. Soon the Stasis ship slipped into the shadows of space, seeking more flies to ensnare in its web and more stolen goods for its larder. But even now, at this moment of celebration, the darkening hour for the predator was growing ever nearer. The cave wasps were preparing to swarm...

* * *

Her nightmares were constantly growing worse, with this night's being extreme. With the last convulsive surge of black monsters and wild demons ripping up her mind and tearing at her flesh, Darla had managed to shake herself awake. Yet all was not well.

Her cabin was not only filled with night noises that a frigate like Shikkeron normally makes, she could still hear voices and ugly laughter from within. The room had one tiny green light burning on the communication panel. It lit up the surroundings enough to allow one to see the cabin's furnishings.

Darla opened her eyes to dispel the last of the horrid visions from her dreams, but they did not entirely go away. Voices still haunted her mind and ugly, ragged creatures continued to dance in front of her face. Darla violently shook her head again, but the confusion of sights and sounds altered little.

"They have invaded my waking hours!" An icy chill of fear and anxiety raced up the major's spine and erupted in a painful, explosive crescendo in the back of her head. As the pain subsided, she could sense that she was not alone. It was as if a demon in her mind was seeking company of kindred elsewhere outside her room. She started feeling the presence of things in the form of black shadows moving about the sleeping ship, stealthy and hidden, yet awake and listening, searching one another out.

The voice in her mind cried out to another shadow not far away. An almost howling response filled her ears, and then another reply further away she heard. They started speaking to each other in weird, screeching cackles. It was as if the demon within her mind was calling out to the others for assistance, either to escape or to join it. All the while Darla lay deathly still, paralyzed with panic.

Beckoning by the demon within continued. Soon, Darla could feel others approaching until she imagined two shadows of darkness hovering just outside her cabin door. The voice of the animal within began pleading for the others to join it. The woman was sure she could hear frustrated scratching on the panel and sinister cursing at finding it locked. In one last Herculean effort, Darla let out a scream that must have reverberated off the very hull of the ship. Instantly, the demon vanished from her mind and the shadows at the door fled down the hall, their plaintive cries becoming lost in the noise of the pulsing ship of war.

In only a moment, there came a heavy pounding on the compartment door, accompanied by a loud voice, calling, "Major! Major! Are you all right?"

Darla clearly identified the voice to be Ardon's. She heaved a sigh as a tear fell from her cheek and her body shuddered in relief. Fists pounded again on the door. "Major Darla! Are you all right?"

Just as Ardon was preparing to attempt a break-in, a still shaking voice called back, "I'm fine. I'm fine. Just a moment." She stumbled from the cot and reached out to unlock the cabin door. As it slid open, she caught a glimpse of the worried man staring in at her.

Before either could speak, another person joined them. Crilen came racing down the corridor, his face filled with dread. As he hurriedly approached, he anxiously asked, "Major Darla, is there something wrong? I heard a scream. Is there..."

Darla interrupted, her voice still shaky, "Everything's fine, Crilen...everything's fine."

Crilen quickly repeated his question and Darla reassured him there was no need for worry. After thanking him for his concern, she addressed Ardon. "Lieutenant Ardon, may I have a word with you?"

Ardon's face clouded at the tone in Darla's voice. He feared she was about to give him a dressing down for having disturbed her. After all, he had received quite a tongue lashing only the other day just because he had failed to appear on the bridge in proper uniform. Still, as the major's junior staff officer, he needed to obey such a request, so he replied that he would comply.

"Good!" A note of relief reflected in her voice. "Please allow me a little time to get in uniform and I will be with you." Darla stood there naked, having not bothered to dress when hopping from her bed.

The major placed her hand on Crilen's arm, thanking him for his concern. He offered his good nights and departed. She then requested Ardon's patience and retired to the cabin for her clothes. In a few minutes, Darla was again at the door, requesting he accompany her to a more private, secure part of the ship. They were soon far forward in what was once an ordnance bunker but now served as the Marine's wardroom.

Darla quietly closed and locked the passage portal and turned down the lights until the room was ghostly dim. She asked Ardon to take a corner seat at the makeshift conference table while she sat at the near corner where her eyes could watch for shadows at the door. For some time, the two remained in silent contemplation, adjusting to emotions and settling feelings in their minds.

At length, the major dropped any formalities. "Ardon, I must confess my disdain for your presence with me on this patrol. To be honest, if I had a choice, you would be peacefully sleeping at this moment. I have put my personal feelings aside and have attempted to treat you with the same respect and dignity I would give any officer in my command. Yet it is partially for personal reasons I have asked you to join me here."

Ardon thanked Darla for her honesty, but inside he still felt she was going to attack him. She did not.

"Ardon..." Darla nervously continued, "I am well aware why you are here. I do not feel myself a danger to the soldiers in my care, but I will not chance myself to foolish pride and possibly place them at unnecessary risk. Do as you wish with the information you hear from me. If I am unfit for duty in your eyes, we will soon be with the fleet and you may communicate your feelings to my commander. In the meantime, I will need your assistance. You are one of the Eighty. Besides you and me, there are no others aboard this ship. Our differences must be set aside for us to win success, for I fear something dreadful accompanies us on this journey that is seeking my, if not our destruction."

Darla began to relate her recent experience with the demon in her room. She explained what she thought it was attempting, adding, "You are well aware that a person must be a willing recipient for Asotos to implant one of his demon sentinels within them. Only Michael and I are known to have been successfully implanted with them against our will. You know better than I what power they have, being of a similar nature to Lowenah. They are much weaker than her Cherubs but, at the same time, mentally more aggressive. Being an invention of Asotos' twisted mind, and they being his faithful slaves, these demon programs seek to control the possessed mind. If they cannot do it alone, they will search out other demons to give them added strength. At the moment, that is my greatest fear...that somehow there are others aboard to join forces and defeat me."

She paused in thought, wondering, "I know that the inhabitants of the Second Realm are easy prey for the devices of Asotos and his henchmen. Even innocent people become infected and possessed, either with machines that our wicked brothers use to control their thoughts and actions, or with these demon programs that even display their own intelligence and personality. With weaker bodies that become sick and die, those people are easy targets. It takes a very strong constitution for one of their kind to withstand a direct attack from such contrivances that our brother uses.

"Never, though, have I heard of a person from the First Realm becoming an unwilling host to those devices. One must be conscious of their presence for them to become active. If a person is unaware of the thing, it will soon leave or the body will destroy it. As I said, to the best of my knowledge, only Mihai and I are troubled by those unwelcome tenants."

Darla stood and walked to the door, putting her ear close to it. After some time, she returned and sat down. Ardon observed that the dim light cast dark shadows on a troubled face. Leaning forward so as to speak in his ear, in almost a whisper, Darla began to explain Ardon's role in matters. "In six days we were to rejoin the fleet, but our reunion has been delayed by another week because of the attack on MoonDust. We have been requested to rendezvous with the cutter, OjibSheannon, as soon as possible. It is with the collier as I speak, waiting our arrival to finish the investigation into what happened.

"Euroaquilo has had powers given him to drive the ugly monsters far away from me, at least for awhile. Before the delay and my dreams tonight, I believed my own powers great enough to hold those things at bay, but now I don't know. My dreams may or may not be breaking through into my waking hours and, if there are other evil forces here, and if they should gather together..." She sighed and momentarily fell into silence. Then, as if resigned to her fate, Darla continued, "I dare not take a chance at hoping I was still only dreaming about the shadows. For the safety of the crew and for my own, I am requesting your assistance. There are two things I need from you. The first you must obey. The second...well, you may do as you see fit."

She sat back a little, but continued to speak softly. "First, I can fully trust you because you are one of the Eighty, and I dare not trust the others. My request is for you to remain beside me until we return to the fleet. If something should arise, I will be able to rely on your loyalty. The second is this..."

Darla frowned, lowering her head. A look of disgust filled her face. She started to stand, telling Ardon there was no need for the second request. A sudden noise outside the door made her freeze in near panic. It was only the morning watch on routine patrol. Darla sat back down in exhausted relief. She decided to reconsider her request, realizing worse things could happen.

"Ardon, I don't like you as a friend. You have hurt me much more than you know. At one time, I even wished your death, that is until Euroaquilo readjusted my thinking. Anyway, I believe there is little love lost between us. If I could hide away from your face and never set eyes upon you again, it would only begin to satisfy my heart. With that understanding, you must weigh my request. Ardon, I dare not chance my dreams breaking into my waking hours and fear I haven't the strength to hold them in restraint. I need help controlling them, help from someone I can truly trust. Ardon, you are the only one I can truly trust at the moment."

Darla paused as a tear ran down her face. The thought of being with a man she hated so, and yet the only man who could help her, tore at her heart, almost making it break. No! It must be done or at least attempted, if not for her safety for that of her Marines and the ship's crew. She fought back tears and sucked in a breath to regain her composure before asking, "Ardon, will you help me with my dreams until we return to the fleet?" She choked back a cry. "Please, for my sake?"

Ardon was caught up speechless. What was he to do? His feelings for Darla were mixed at best. He sensed an evil about her that repulsed him. He also feared for her sanity, and the night's experiences only reinforced his suspicions about her. Was the demon already reached beyond her sleep and speaking through her this very moment, seeking a way to enter him? No. He thought not. But still...

The man was about to decline Darla's request when the words of his mother resounded in his mind. 'I send you to her, not for a punishment, but for her protection. Do not allow any harm to come to her until the stormwind dies.' Closing his eyes in thought, Ardon puzzled over the message. The answer was obscure, buried in the fog of future destinies. But Mother was not to be denied. He would serve to the best of his ability, no matter his personal cost. "I will try...I will do what I can," Ardon finally whispered. He could see Darla's shoulders relax, like some monumental weight was now lifted off her.

Darla's lips quivered, "Thank you... Thank you..." She quietly wept.

For the first time, Ardon began to see the insecure child in the woman he had grown to disdain and dread. The stresses of the night had broken down her resolve. Her wild fear, the terror of damnation that she hid from searching eyes, was being revealed to him for the first time. A feeling of guilt invaded his heart...guilt for his refusal to accept that this girl had such emotions, guilt in denying that she cared or loved or feared or that she could. He lowered his head, staring at the floor. How wicked and foolish he now felt!

Darla reached out her hand and placed it on Ardon's arm. "The night is still young. I cannot face it alone. Please spend its remaining hours with me. If only you will hold me, that is sufficient. Just do not leave me alone. Please, not this morning."

Ardon felt so ashamed, he could not reply. All he could do was nod. Darla's hand shook with relief. For some time, the two sat in silence.

Darla need not hold back her emotions with this man any longer. For good or ill, he would soon know the secret person of her heart. It troubled and relaxed her to think she needn't have a wall built against this former antagonist, the one who might save her from the madness. "We should go," the woman-child softly uttered.

Ardon reached his other hand over hers that was still holding his arm. He nodded, softly replying, "Yes...yes. It is a good hour. You need the rest. I shall try to help you get it."

* * *

Shikkeron drifted alongside OjibSheannon, the ship docked to MoonDust. For two days, Darla had busied herself pouring over all the pictures and other evidence collected at the crime scene. Before arriving, the major sent a request for detailed autopsies to be completed on all the crew and passengers, as well as the lone Stasis Pirate. Now she was preparing to enter the belly of the beast to personally view the results of such a murderous meal.

Ardon was also suiting up to go. Darla had tried to dissuade him. "The hold of that ship hides things too evil for me to describe. Only have the bodies been removed. Everything else remains as it was. For three days, the life supports systems went wild, with temperatures exceeding one hundred-thirty degrees. This, combined with the weightlessness induced by the destruction of the gravity machines has produced a chamber of gruesome gore few have seen, except say, on some horrid battlefield. As MoonDust pitched and yawed, the mess of destruction slid and bounced around the rooms. From floor to ceiling, the ship reeks with the sights of slaughter."

But Ardon could not be stopped. Soon he found himself advancing into the tiny chamber just past the hatch. Suited up as if they were entering a 'hot room', Darla and her team progressed along the pitch-black corridors. They stopped from time to time, taking notes or flashing pictures. The only other light was that of filtered lenses on each person's helmet. The filter altered the colors of reality, reducing the graphic visuals to a manageable level. Even with the odorless air of the suit and the filtered light, Ardon was hard-pressed to keep from getting sick. He was glad that he had listened to Darla's advice and not eaten any food this day.

Darla's team members were masters of forensic research. For hours, they probed the ship from stem to stern. Blood, tissue and air samples were taken throughout the hold. Even the ventilation system was partially disassembled and the interior linings scraped for residue. Picture after picture froze in time the madness committed against innocent people. Everyone busied themselves with their assignments. Ardon was astounded by the depth of professionalism and amount of expertise each and every team member displayed. Darla's leadership went unquestioned. One would think she did this kind of work on a daily basis.

When the primary work was finished, the team coated the walls and floors with some sort of florescent chemical. After a proper wait, they traversed the ship again, this time to find the invisible - foot and hand prints, dried saliva, threads from clothing, etc. More notes and pictures were taken until, Ardon thought, they must have a million by now. As the day wore on, Ardon watched the team do acid tests, smoke tests, even polarized light tests, all to help provide his people with an accurate picture of what happened aboard MoonDust.

As the team gathered their evidence, Ardon stood back and watched, often finding himself in the way. No one fussed or complained, a gentle nudge being the worst insult he received from anyone. A renewed shame grew within him while he watched these faithful attendants carry out their gruesome task. For far too long he had echoed his wisdom at the councils, pressing his opinions in decisions made, considering the soldiers' role as secondary and of minor importance. How little he had understood about the training and skill, not to mention the dogged determination that it had taken to provide what, at times, he had considered skimpy information.

Finally, after an exhausting day, Darla's team retired to OjibSheannon to compile and catalog all the evidence. For the next forty-eight hours, the entire forensic team labored at this duty, catching only snippets of sleep and eating on the run. Ardon looked on in amazement. The diligence of the team aboard MoonDust was nothing compared to the hustle and bustle on the little cutter. Every available ward and stateroom, even the galley was commandeered to quicken the needed duties to finish this task. Laboratories were set up on both OjibSheannon and Shikkeron while other samples were prepared for transport to the fleet via a fast packet boat waiting close by.

When all the initial analysis was finished, Darla gave orders to her Marine captain on OjibSheannon to do a circuitous patrol of the moons and asteroid fields near the calculated location of the initial attack. She also warned them to take no chances and, if things became tenuous, abandon the search and continue on patrol. The major then boarded Shikkeron and requested Captain Bedan make smoke for the fleet. She brought along copies of all the research, pictures, samples, and chemical analysis to pour over on the trip.

Darla spent the following four days immersed in the mountain of evidence, searching for facts and reasons. For most of this time, Ardon found himself used for little more than errand runner. Hours often dragged at times as he watched others hunched over seemingly innocuous pictures and meaningless reports. Once in awhile someone would scratch a hasty note or make some excited exclamation. After exhaustive efforts, Darla and her team had compiled a probable scenario.

As soon as a solid conclusion had been reached as to the real fate of MoonDust, Darla hurried to the communications room and requested the following coded message be sent, while not identifying vessel or location. 'The moons of Chrusion cast a shadow on the waxing tide.' When asked if there was to be any additional information to send she said "no", other than to repeat the broadcast each hour until an acknowledgment was received from fleet command. The duty officer quickly coded the cryptic note and began transmission.

It was nearly twelve hours before an incoming cryptic reply was received from Oruomai, the fleet's flagship, which, when decoded, read, 'The Western Star should sail home.' The duty officer jotted down the message and rushed to deliver it to Darla. He also gave a copy to Captain Bedan. After reading the communique, Bedan hurried to the Marine command room to ask the major what this was all about.

Darla smiled, "Captain, as per the request of my colonel, and also the admiral, ordering me to make contact when our investigation was completed, I sent an encrypted message confirming that it was."

"Why didn't you confer with me before sending it?" Bedan asked, in an agitated tone.

Puzzled, Darla answered, "Captain, I correspond back and forth with my superiors regularly, using the standard code as I did this time. I understood it was my privilege to do so when it pertained to Marine matters. My forensic team was ordered by fleet command to gather information regarding the attack on MoonDust. I was to notify them when we had finished the preliminary investigation. Their response only confirms that they received my message, nothing more. If I have overstepped my authority in some way, please inform me."

Bedan stopped up short, putting his hand to his head as though in thought, then apologized. "I'm sorry, Major. I am out of line. You have every right for open communication with whomever you see need, and in the way you see fit...I mean, as long as the ship and crew are not put at undue risk..." quickly adding, "I am not implying such a thing in this case. It's just, well, out here on the Frontier there is little margin for error."

"I totally agree with you," Darla cautiously replied. "As you should be well aware of by now, I have spent many years kissing the stars in the very quadrants of the universe we now find ourselves. It was partly for that reason I was assigned to the Frontier at this dangerous hour." She sympathized with Bedan's concerns and then reassuringly added, "Should I believe any of my actions will directly interfere with your authority here, be assured I will defer to your position as captain of this ship before giving any directive."

Bedan breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank you. I so much desire your cooperation in this matter."

Darla smiled wearily then begged her leave because of the great deal of work she needed to finish before reaching the fleet. Bedan returned to the bridge, the major listening to his footsteps as they echoed away down the hall. For the first time, she began to feel uneasy about things. Bedan was usually very cordial and polite, but ever since leaving MoonDust he had become more reserved when in her company. Could it be that he had heard some of the stories regarding the demons hiding in her mind? Was he concerned about the welfare of the ship, fearing Darla to be a potential danger?

The night of her bad dreams came to mind. Crilen undoubtedly confided in his captain about the incident. It was a thing any good junior officer would do. 'Better to be safe,' they always say. Maybe Ardon had a talk with the captain. When they returned to the fleet, she would make sure to pass the matter by Euroaquilo. He would be honest with her. If he carried any reservations about her mental health, he would not hesitate to act on it. Meanwhile, Darla would be very careful how she handled matters.

As Ardon had promised, he stayed close to Darla's side for the remainder of the trip, even sharing her dreams as best he could. He discovered the demon hiding within had apparently developed a personality of sorts, and could feel a seething hatred lurking in the shadows of her mind. It was as though Ardon's presence angered it, keeping it restrained. Many stories he had been told of the power of Asotos' mind before Lowenah removed that ability from him, yet the depth of that might was known as little more than myth.

Now Ardon was seeing first-hand a glimpse of what it could do. Here, in this woman's mind, for nearly six millennia, a monster seed had been growing, gradually taking on a life of its own to the point of having developed some kind of a warped and twisted individuality. No wonder Zadar felt such a strong need to warn his fellows of the wicked dangers he had discovered. But now he was faced with a quandary. Was Darla's sanity in question, or were there two separate persons living within one mind? Could she contain the evil or would it best her in the end? 'When the stormwind dies...' What was Mother's meaning behind it?

Ardon stared down at the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. No...no, he would not tempt the Fates. He had promised to see this through. If it cost his...no, if it cost the lives of all the people in order to accomplish what his mother had started, he would accept that. Euroaquilo would know he had shared Darla's dreams. To him only would he speak. Sanity and logic be damned! For once in his life, he would go by his gut feeling. He would listen to the music in his heart and disregard the warnings in his head. He let out a tired sigh and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

### SECTION TWELVE:

ANGEL ON FIRE

For three days, the child had been unbearable, ever since Drorli told her that she was to see the Maker of all Things. Ishtar was currently fuming at Merna over some imagined failure to remove a nearly invisible spot in the short cape the girl intended for the meeting. "I can't understand your seeming lack of concern! You act like this is some casual event. Now please," she commanded, sourly addressing her friend, "take this and clean it properly," thrusting it back into Merna's hands.

Merna was ready to tell the girl to do her own cleaning, but she stopped and bit her lip, choosing to remain silent. Yet the look in her eyes would have sent chills down most people's backs, but not Ishtar's - at least, not now. In fact, she never noticed. As soon as she finished ranting about the cape, the young woman was off on another troubled tangent as she began to angrily sputter, "Where did my bath oil go? I thought the water was to be hot by now! Where's Suan? Apollonius promised she would help me. How am I supposed to do all this stuff by myself?"

Just then, a knock on the door drew the girl's attention. Zadar leaned against the doorpost, smiling his hellos. "Are we ready for the big day?"

Before he could say another word, Ishtar slammed him with a barrage of complaints about everything from greasy food at breakfast to the threatening breeze outside. Then she started on Lowenah. "Just when I need her the most, she decides to take her leave. I have met some irresponsible domestics in my time, but that person takes the prize! I can't understand why no one takes her in tow and straightens her out!"

On and on, the girl went in her tirade until Zadar bluntly interrupted, "Hold it there, right now! If you want me to take you... No, if you want to go at all today, you will calm down and behave!"

Ishtar gasped. Zadar never raised his voice or spoke harshly, at least never before now. He stood there in the doorway, frowning in disgust, and began to lecture the girl. "This is my family you're accusing of injustices. We were willing to have you invited to our home, but that does not mean that we will take mistreatment from a rueful brat. Let me warn you now, if you do not want to appear before God naked and stripped of your dignity, then you'd better put a civil tongue in your mouth!" He shook his finger at her. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ishtar was taken aback, but wasn't knocked from the fight. She was thinking of some kind of a retort when she saw Drorli step into the doorway behind Zadar. "Calm down, little one," he suggested with a wry smile. "You don't know who's talking to you. This man has more authority than any emperor from your old realm. He's an aide-de-camp to the Army's field marshal and is today also serving as personal liaison for Yehowah. We will not question his directives in the king's matters."

Drorli's seeming assault only infuriated Ishtar more. She put on a pout and began a round of complaints, how she had been mistreated so often since arriving here, how rude the people were, even how inconsiderate her uncle was for not visiting as of late.

Zadar, who was known for his easygoing ways, lost his patience. He walked up to the girl and, while holding her arm in an almost crushing grip, drew close and sharply scolded her, glowering, "That's enough! My sister, your angel, almost died helping you survive a great and terrible test. You owe any and all rewards present and future to what she did for you. Even now, she dances on the edge of death so that our worlds may not dissolve into nothing. You have been delivered here to give strength to her hand, but instead of building her up, you blubber like some selfish ingrate. What good are you?"

Ishtar was shocked into silence. Zadar let go her arm and walked back to the doorway. His brow furrowed as he unleashed a volley of angry rebukes. "Grow Up! Your childhood ended the day the dogs tore you apart. There's no returning to your perfect little world before that time. You're here, stuck here and never going to leave here! No matter how much we complain about it, you're here!"

Zadar raised his hand, shaking a finger, asking, "Do you think it was by chance that your father gave you the name you carry, 'Ishtar', 'Diana, the goddess of the hunt, mother of multitudes'?" He shook his head. "Your hand will one day make blood drip from the stars. You will remove the head from the king of Memphis and eat up the flesh of his children. Was it not said by your own ancients, 'He will turn their very gods against them'?" The man stepped forward, until his nose almost touched Ishtar's. "Are you to become one of them, or have we placed our hope upon a fool's tale?"

He did not allow the girl time to answer. "Look, the hour is nearing when Shiloh is to arrive. Standing at his side is one not yet conceived, who will split the sky in her fury. She will be called 'Kali, goddess of war and death', for she will stomp around in her rage and crush all the nations in her anger. Will you be ready to stand by her side in that day or is there a different Ishtar coming other than yourself who will pick up the sword and save this world?"

Zadar's words stung with insult and reprimand. Ishtar stepped back, forlorn and helpless, wanting to cry, run away, scream out how unfair it all was. She was no warrior, didn't want to be! The child felt trapped, caged like some beast. But then she thought of Darla, always so caring, gentle, and loving. Was the woman truly in such danger? Was there really something the girl could do to provide help to her friend? A tear ran down her cheek as she silently stood near the toasty warmth of the room's fireplace.

Glancing at the timepiece on the wall, Zadar warned the girl, "I will return just after the mid-day meal. Be ready, for I will deliver you to my Master naked if necessary." He turned to leave. As he passed Merna, he paused and politely asked, "If you are still willing, could I beg your kindness to help this girl prepare for her coming destiny?"

Merna smiled, assuring him she would assist Ishtar.

"Thank you, you're so very kind." Zadar's sweet tone with Merna changed instantly as he eyed Ishtar, sourly adding, "If she gets out of line, let her take care of herself!" With that, Zadar and Drorli exited the apartment for Zadar's carriage, hurrying away to get ready for Ishtar's coming meeting with God.

The road from the village west to Palace City was nearly deserted. An occasional horseless freight wagon heading for another village or a local farm would lumber by, and once in awhile a little carriage could be seen hurrying its occupants on some personal adventure. What surprised Ishtar the most was the number of small two-wheeled machines, some being propelled by foot power, others with strange boxes fastened to the rear wheels, either silently zipping along or making some kind of a ' _putt-putt'_ noise. These were just the beginning of the wondrous new things the girl was seeing for the first time.

Ishtar looked into cultivated fields, watching in amazement at the wide variety of animals and machines. Cattle, horses, and sheep of every shape and color roamed fenced pastures. Other animals, strange to her eyes, lazily munched on grasses along with poultry of every description as well as geese, ducks, and even huge, wingless birds. On and on the list of wonderful and exotic animals went. Each farm seemed to have some special and uniquely different creature from the farm before it.

But her greatest amazement was found in the way the land was being tended. Most of the fields were small, with only a few acres locked within the fences' borders. Ishtar saw that some were being worked by hand, having dozens of laborers busy picking or weeding or planting. On other farms, the girl saw various beasts of burden laboring in the fields, pulling or pushing strange contraptions of every shape and size.

These were 'machines' as Drorli called them. None were huge in size, but the variety was like that of the animals. Some had bright-colored metal wheels while others had thick black wheels. Merna called them 'tires'. She said the black tires were made of softer material and were filled with air. Ishtar found that hard to comprehend. And the machines varied in how they were operated. Sometimes she would see two or three people standing around one, pitching straw into an ever hungry mouth, or she would see a person sitting on a beast, dragging another machine behind it. And at times she saw wheeled machines moving about the field with no one near.

These strange sights continued to roll past. As the carriage crested one knoll, out ahead the girl could see hundreds of streams of water shooting skyward. Wide-eyed, she exclaimed, "Never have I seen the rivers so wild and grand! What power possesses them so that they act in such a way?"

Drorli smiled, leaning forward in the opposing seat, informing her, "That water shoots out from pipes buried in the soil. Powerful pumps push the water out of tiny holes, causing it to shoot high into the air. It falls like rain onto different ground fruit growing there. Many of the fresh, sweet fruits you have enjoyed come from these farms. Yehowah's children love food that is fresh. Although we can produce it in much higher quantities when necessary, it is just more satisfying to grow it this way."

"Impossible!" Ishtar exclaimed. "These are so much bigger than the farms I visited. How can there be even greater ones?"

Drorli went on, pointing at different sights as they were passing by. "The farms near your village are show farms, places set up to help our new visitors acclimatize - get used to being here. You can meet some of the people, see the way we do some things, get a taste of life here, but the true reality of this place is located beyond the valley you have lived in."

He waved his hand out the window. "Most of the farms here belong to Palace City. The ages of my brothers and sisters are endless. Few have lingered long at only one trade or craft. So here, with these farms, when the desire hits a person to become a farmer, he or she makes request to lease or rent one of these farms for a given period of time. They may either take over an existing place or set up a new spread, sometimes even replacing the buildings. Then they have a go at farming. Some have been here for hundreds of years. Others have arrived only recently."

Waving his hand again, Drorli spoke of other places. "Off to the north and west there are large grain and cattle spreads. Some of the grain fields are hundreds of square acres, and the cattle herds may exceed a thousand." Lowenah's children referred to all four-legged herding and flocking animals as cattle, sheep included, as he explained to Ishtar in the course of conversation.

As new sights and sounds flooded Ishtar's senses, questions flew from her lips. Drorli patiently explained what he could before some other wonder would distract the girl, sending another volley of questions at the poor fellow.

Zadar remained quiet for most of the trip and contributed little to the conversation. He had been polite enough but his disgust with the child's actions had temporarily soured his mood. The fresh air and respectful display Ishtar had attempted after his return was helping. By the time the party reached the Eastern Gate at the outer wall, he was in a more pleasant frame of mind.

The driverless autocar pulled into a cul de sac and stopped just before massive leaved gates, which were now closed tight. All had been prepared for Ishtar's arrival, with the palace and surrounding areas set up for the occasion. Upon the battlements strode the fiery Cherubs of Yehowah, all dressed in silver and black, wearing gold helms and carrying gold shields. Each one possessed either a flaming sword or fluttering pennant on a long, golden staff.

In front of the gates stood two giant pillars of smoke, the roar of concealed fires coming from within each of them, their height more than twenty cubits and their breadth better than four.

A booming voice called out from the pillar on the right, "Who is it that dares to seek the face of God? Speak truth and continue living!"

Zadar excused himself and exited from the carriage. Bowing low and then standing, he called back, "I am come at the request of the Great and Merciful Lord of Life and all Good Things. It is Zadar returned from errand for my Lord and Master, Wonderful Councilor, Loving Father. I have brought the girl, to present her a living sacrifice to the God of Gods and Lord of Lords."

The pillar on the left called out in command, "Present before us the face of the one you call 'girl' so that we may look upon her so that you may keep living!"

Zadar bowed, opening the carriage door, offering to take Ishtar's hand. "Please, you must come with me in order for us to all keep living."

Ishtar's face had paled as she cowered in the seat next to Merna. Zadar reached in, grasping her hand. "Come along, before they become impatient. You will be fine as long as you do as they command."

Reluctantly, the child surrendered to Zadar's wishes. He gently pulled her from the carriage and stood her in front, facing the crackling pillars. Again, the first one spoke, bellowing out a deafening order to the girl. "Approach the Gate of Yehowah so that we may gaze upon the person you claim to be."

Ishtar nearly fainted. She wished now that she had kept her mouth shut and not asked to see God. This was only the entrance to the palace home of the Great One, and already the child felt as though her life was near its end. Zadar gave her a nudge forward. Slowly and timidly, she crept toward the two pillars of smoke. As she drew close, what looked like a pair of giant eyes appeared in each pillar, watching her every move as she continued to approach.

"Remove your sandals from your feet and fall down upon your face before the glory of Yehowah!" both pillars shouted as if one voice.

Ishtar scrambled to pull off the laced sandals, her fingers trembling, turning the laces into knots. Almost crying aloud in fear as she labored with the impossible shoes, she fairly flung the remaining one away before diving to the stone pavement at the foot of the pillars.

"For what reasons have you dared to interrupt the day's rest of God with your constant pleading to see his face?" the pillars both questioned, a tone of displeasure carried on their ear-shattering words. "Speak now to us and let us examine the truth of the matter, so that you all may live!"

By now, Ishtar was terrified. The pillars' command implied that her answers were to affect the lives of everyone with her. She had no good reason. It was a very selfish one, just to satisfy her own wanton desire. But she couldn't tell these pillars of cloud that. They wouldn't accept such foolishness as a reasonable excuse. They'd probably send flames of fire out to destroy them all if she said such a thing. Yet God would know if she lied. What was she to do?

"Where is your tongue now?" they bellowed in unison. "Speak now or be forever silent!"

"I just wanted to!" she cried. "I just wanted to...!" Tears streamed from her eyes, staining the stones upon which she lay.

Silence... The roar of the fires within ceased and the pillars becalmed. "Rise! Return to your people!" came a command from the pillar on the right.

Ishtar stood and, forgetting her sandals, hurried back to Zadar, clutching his arm when she drew close. She stared in amazement while the two pillars began to rise into the air.

"You may enter!" they called down as they continued to lift themselves up until each one floated above a pedestal upon which the gates opened. Zadar helped the girl into the carriage, quickly retrieved her shoes, and jumped in after her.

With the groaning sound of heavy machinery pushing against untold weight, the massive-looking hinged doors began to open outward. Creaking and screeching filled the air as the two wings slowly spread out to greet the party. After a seemingly endless time, the entrance was finally fully opened, allowing the carriage to enter. Meanwhile, Ishtar sat in the buggy, weeping, begging them to turn around and take her back to the little village, swearing she would never be a bad girl again.

"You're not being punished," Merna reassured. "You have been quite adamant about seeing the face of God, and now your wish has been granted. Let me help you with your sandals. Trust me, you will be happy you're wearing them."

The two struggled in the cramped space of the carriage floor to get the sandals on and laced. By the time Ishtar sat back, the carriage was already entering the narrow road leading to the east entrance of the Lower Palace Concourse. As soon as the autocar passed the gates, they again closed, but Ishtar took little notice. If she had been impressed by the glory and majesty displayed outside, there were no words to describe the wonders her eyes beheld now.

A mile or so ahead lay the chrysolite-domed palace, sunlight reflecting off it, making it appear as though it was a raging inferno. Standing along either side of the road was an unbroken line of Yehowah's stern-faced, black-robed Cherubs, each with its flaming weapon drawn. Thousands of pillars of white-hot fire danced in long rows that ran parallel to the warriors. Behind them, disappearing into a blinding mist, swirling and twisting rainbows of indescribable brilliance and color filled the air.

Ever so slowly moved the little carriage. In Ishtar's eyes, it was decreasing its speed the closer it came to the grand entrance. Truth be said, the entire trip from gate to palace was completed in less than five minutes, but to the girl it lasted a lifetime. Eventually, the machine eased to a stop just outside the doors leading to the East Concourse. Once again, Ishtar had to stand before two flaming clouds of fire and face examination before being allowed to enter. This time, though, they did not order her to remove her sandals or prostrate herself.

The doors opened to allow Ishtar and her companions passage into the bowels of the Lower Palace. Inside all was strangely dark and quiet. The mirrored black floor absorbed the little light provided by the glowing blue-green curtains that stretched the entire length of the concourse. Like the floor, the ceiling was similarly black. Although the girl could feel the hard floor and hear the echoes created by the many footfalls, she was unable to judge height or space.

"Vertigo!" Drorli whispered, seemingly fearful of the quiet echo of his own voice. "A wicked heart will cause a person to fall into the Bottomless Realms, a place where one forever tumbles into nothingness. Walk carefully and honestly."

Merna was standing just behind the girl and next to Drorli. She gave him a scolding glance. He smiled sheepishly and winked. No one fell into nothingness, at least not that day, but it was difficult for everyone to keep from stumbling. The easiest way to maintain balance was to look straight ahead and concentrate on the glowing light far down the tunnel. At the snail's pace at which the party moved, it took some time to reach it.

In a way, it was a relief for everyone when they arrived at the Winter Gardens. Zadar now said that they were to remain there until summoned to the throne room. It was pleasant here as always. The conventional, mild glow had been replaced with an iridescent, flowing, white light, reminding a person of a ghostly aura seen in a chill night sky, but all other things were still the same. While Drorli and Zadar moseyed through the tropical foliage, Merna and Ishtar sat on a stone bench, Ishtar being too nervous to do anything else. Time slowly ticked by, the oppressive silence of this fathomless abyss growing with each passing heartbeat.

An eruption of trumpet blasts rent the air, startling everyone. Ishtar let out a wail, jumping to her feet, heart pounding, standing frozen in fearful anticipation, wondering what was to happen next. It was not long in coming.

Down from the North Concourse raced four radiant white horses pulling a fiery, golden chariot. They charged through the opening into the Grand Hall and made a half circle of the Winter Gardens, coming to a stop near Ishtar's party. No one dare move. Finally, the flaming chariot driver gave the order to enter. "Only the child and the one called 'Zadar' are to come!" The driver's voice, sounding like many thunders, commanded, "The others are to remain here and wait."

Ishtar grasped Merna's hand and began to whimper. The woman reached out, hugging the child, attempting to soothe her. "Things will be fine, my dear. Remember? This is what you wanted, to see the face of God. It is being granted you to attain your heart's desire. This is a gift to you. Do not fear the one true God."

Ishtar quieted, offering her friend a nervous smile. She turned to Zadar, who was standing next to the chariot, grim-faced. He assisted the girl up and then followed her into it. With a cry, the driver whipped the horses into noisy action. The pounding of thundering hooves soon softened to the patter of gentle rain and then to nothing. Only the splashing waterfall and bubbling fountains disturbed the silence of the Winter Gardens. Drorli and Merna sat on a stone bench and waited.

After some time, the trappings of suspense lifted from the Great Hall and the concourses. Natural lighting above the gardens reappeared and once again a person could see the many shops and cafés. It was not long before throngs of people were busying themselves with the normal hustle and bustle of daily activities associated with life in this place. It would be many years hence before the pillars of smoke would again stand at the gates, their voices rolling like Divine Thunder.

Drorli finally turned to Merna and sighed. "Our work here is done. Indeed, there is no more work for us at the village. Long it may stay in disuse until another child will have need of it." He smiled, "You know, I have rejoined the Army, taking back my old position with the engineering corps. It's presently in Oros being re-outfitted." Taking Merna's hand, he asked, "Have you ever been given a real tour of this place, I mean other than the skimpy official one everyone gets? It is several days until my reporting date. I would be willing to show you around Palace City..." he winked, "and possibly, we'd have time to take in the sights at Diamond Ridge."

Merna smirked while pretending to be suspicious. "Are you flirting with me, a lady all alone and open to the wiles of a smooth-talking officer?"

Drorli pretended offence as he wrinkled his face into a concerned frown and huffed, "My dear lady, you have misunderstood only the kindest of gestures made by a humble man in search of some pleasant company. I am honorable in all my activities. Never has an uncouth thought even entered my mind when considering your charming face and ravishing beauty. I only desired to offer my time to help you find some of the more interesting features of this beautiful city we are now visiting."

Merna leaned over, kissing Drorli on the cheek, coyly asking, "The same way you offered to assist Chasileah with her night songs?"

Drorli stammered and coughed. "Why...why, yes...yes, indeed. Night songs...? Chasileah...? Of course..."

Merna giggled, "Well, I should consider it an honor to take up company with a man so well respected by a woman like Chasileah. Let's be off to see what the day will bring. I trust you will return me safely to my door when all is finished?"

"Of course, my lady," Drorli cheerfully replied. He took her by the arm as they stood, stepping out of the Winter Gardens. Down the Southern Concourse the two strolled, arm in arm, both relieved and satisfied with the results of their labors in helping their little girl mature into a woman.

Into a raging vortex of blinding, colored lights and screaming sounds the golden chariot raced. Ishtar watched, fixated on what her senses were gathering, horrified with fear and yet overwhelmed in amazement. Zadar remained calm, with a hand gripping the chariot's rail and his other arm wrapped firmly around the girl. Time seemed to stand still, and all direction faded into nothingness. On and on the driver charged, calling for his steeds to hurry while cracking a whip over the tops of the animals' heads. Was it minutes, days or years? Ishtar could not tell. She lost track of all time and distance, finally surrendering to her waiting fate.

At length, the chariot began to slow. A brilliant white glow grew in its majesty until they were flooded in its blinding magnificence. Ahead, Ishtar saw more of Yehowah's fearsome, fiery Cherubs. Strange they were, with fiery wings...sometimes two, four or even six. Each was dressed in golden armor and each carried a huge sword. Out from these stepped a six-winged creature, a giant among the Cherubs, cloaked in black and chrysolite. On his helmet were inscribed the words, 'Great is the Glory of God'. Extending his hand, he shouted for the driver to halt.

Reins were pulled hard and horses reared as they came to a sliding stop. The driver cried out, "Behold the house wardens of the one and only True God! Give honor and praise to the Almighty and Giver of Life so that you may continue to live!"

At that, all the creatures shouted out in song:

" _Oh, give praise to the Most High and bow down to his Greatness._

How loving and kind is He to all those showing Him love.

Do bow low and live, for God is merciful and kind, slow to anger, willing to forgive.

Do be careful to not lift up the anger of God."

The song was repeated three more times before the creatures fell silent. Their leader spoke up again. "Only those of pure heart may enter! The wicked and unworthy will perish in fires of disgrace! What say you to this? Will you stand before the Great and Fear-Inspiring Lord of All Things? Is your heart pure and empty of all wickedness, wantonness, and envy?" His eyes bored into Ishtar's, silently waiting for a reply.

Ishtar quietly cried out to Zadar, "I shall die! How can I answer him when I don't know my heart? God will strike me dead!"

"Let him judge your heart," Zadar softly replied. "Tell him you desire a pure heart, but lack wisdom and knowledge as to the depth of your holiness."

"I'll die! I'll die!" the girl whimpered.

Zadar calmly asked, "Won't be the first time, will it? What's the fuss?"

Ishtar's eyes flashed in anger. The instant she realized what she had done, she begged his forgiveness.

Zadar chided, "You'd better hope that fellow didn't see how you acted. Now speak up and tell the Cherub what I said. Don't allow his impatience to grow."

The creature stepped forward, glaring down at Ishtar. She blurted out, "I... I am a foolish thing! I don't know what I am! What good am I?"

The creature stopped, confusion growing on his face. After several seconds of thorough examination, he declared, "So you choose for God to judge you? Whatever He may choose to be your fate, He will choose! Your life is now resting in His loving kindness." He backed away, calling to the keepers of the doors, "She has chosen to cast her fate upon the mercies of the Great King! Open the doors and let her live or die!"

Zadar stepped down from the chariot, his white dress uniform glowing with a shimmering iridescence while a rainbow of colors danced through the threads. "Come, we must hurry! God has little patience for slackers!" he exclaimed, pulling Ishtar toward the opening doors. At that instant, the other Cherubs again took up their previous song. They were still enthusiastically echoing those words as the two large, heavy doors slowly closed, leaving Zadar and Ishtar alone in a quiet antechamber, facing two more golden doors.

After another long wait, with a ' _snap!_ ' and then a laborious groan, the two ornately inscribed panels started to open. When the entrance was wide enough for a person to squeeze through, the doors suddenly stopped moving. From far inside a darkened hall, a thundering voice called out, "The man with the inkhorn, the one who judges good and bad, awaits word from the officer charged with the child's training! To be found acceptable or condemned in all the duties assigned you concerning the child, come forward to be judged worthy of life or death!"

Zadar turned to Ishtar and, with growing trepidation, smiled, saying his goodbyes. "I go now to the Fates. Soon I will know the reward for my labors. Should we not meet again, let it be known that you are innocent in what may become of me." He squeezed her hands, released them and slipped through the passage. Instantly, the doors slammed shut.

The chamber suddenly became colder, or at least it felt that way to the girl. Her hands started shaking uncontrollably and sweat formed in beads that ran down her face. Beyond the sealed compartment, rumbling thunders shook the very floor upon which she stood. One deafening crash after another followed by the muffled eruption of angry expressions filled Ishtar's ears. And then silence – deathlike, still, silence. Ishtar believed her heart would burst because of her overwhelming anxiety.

Another lifetime passed before the girl heard the snapping noise of locks, releasing heavy panels twisting on massive hinges. Gradually the giant wings unfolded outward, revealing an impenetrable pitch-blackness. Ishtar shook so badly her teeth were chattering and her knees knocking.

Once again the thunderous voice from within commanded, "Enter! Stand before your God!"

Somehow Ishtar managed to make her feet move. First one step and then the other...one and then the other, ever so slowly, she managed to move from the antechamber into the blackness beyond. As soon as she had cleared the doors, they slammed shut with a deafening crunch, the girl crying out in terror, the sound of her voice echoing to and fro across the darkened void.

The echo gradually faded away, filling the blackness with numbing silence. The beating of the girl's heart hammered at her senses and her labored breathing became deafening. Still nothing. She slowly turned around, hoping to find solace in some tiny beam of light. There was none to be found, even from the entrance doors. Ishtar was all alone with no sense of direction. Even time became lost to her.

Just as her tears began, just as she was resigning herself to a most unfortunate fate, a luxuriant emerald green light ignited high above the girl's head, growing in brightness until she could see an immense, vaulted expanse, immeasurable in its height and breadth, spreading out and down until reaching the floor which began to burn with the blueness of a frozen sea, a crystal ocean. Ishtar was mesmerized by the sights surrounding her.

Ear-splitting trumpet blasts shattered the oppressive quiet, shaking Ishtar awake. The girl cowered, covering her aching ears. Over and over again, heralds sounded horns, until the girl thought her head was going to explode. She closed her eyes from the throbbing in her brain, crying out in pain.

The trumpet blasts stopped and all became quiet again. The pain in Ishtar's head drifted into memories and vanished. She opened her eyes, letting out another cry, this time at unbelievable sights.

Hovering around and above the indescribably beautiful crystal sea were myriads upon myriads of winged creatures. Rank upon rank, column upon column, for as far as the eye could see these glorious creations stood as one massed throng. Then, as if in one great voice, the multitude broke out in song.

" _Holy! Holy! Holy is the Great and Wonderful Counselor,_

Full of love and full of mercy and kindness,

Bringing good gifts to those who love Him,

Bringing to nothing any not knowing his love.

Give Glory to the One having such love

So that He might look with mercy upon you

And not deliver you up to death."

When the chorus completed singing, other thundering voices called out in unison, this time to the girl standing below.

" _How does one dare to stand in the company of our God?_

Fall down to give honor to the Great King

So as not to make his mercy short, that you should die!"

Ishtar glanced up to see four gargantuan, winged creatures. Each had four faces: that of a bull, an eagle, a lion, and a man, representing power, insight, justice, and love. And they would turn each face as they expressed that particular quality of God. The girl fell flat, burying her face in her hands, shaking as she groveled on the floor. The creatures swooped down and, adding new verses to the song, continued to chant words of warning and adulation to the child. Finally the beating of their wings decreased as they flew back toward the ceiling and the room eventually quieted again.

Another voice thundered across the limitless expanse, "Rise! Stand before your God!"

Shaking from terror, Ishtar somehow managed to push herself onto her knees and finally stand on her feet. She looked toward the sound of the voice and, to her astonishment, beheld a glorious, white throne, floating high above the crowds. Around the throne, the four creatures flew, chanting over and over again:

" _Holy! Holy! Holy! Bless the true God and live!"_

From her position far below, Ishtar could only see the blinding light radiating from inside the throne. At that moment, the multitude of the winged crowds and the four creatures along with a newly appeared council of twelve older men all broke out in rhapsodic melody, praising and glorifying God. As the song continued, the giant white throne gradually settled down toward the crystal sea, slowly revolving in circles while doing so. It finally came to rest in front of the girl, facing away from her.

A voice called out from the middle of the throne, "Prepare to see the person of God! Great and wonderful is he and full of loving kindness!"

The throne began to rotate until facing the girl, blinding light radiating from its center continuing to obscure the face of God. Flames of fire and beams of searing energy shot out from the person seated in the royal chair as the chorus reached a deafening crescendo. As if on cue, the songs abruptly ended. At that instant, the fiery brilliance emanating from the throne faded.

Ishtar found herself staring into the very face of God, her shock profound. The girl's world began to spin around, turning into a dizzying, kaleidoscopic array of blinding colors. Just before Ishtar lost consciousness and fainted dead away, she shrieked, "Lowenah!"

* * *

(Author's note _..._ _'_ _The cave wasp:_ _A small swarming insect that feeds on fungus growing in bat guano when in its adult stage, but survives on blood in its larval state, found primarily in caves of the southern regions of EdenEsonbar. The mature female nurtures her fertilized eggs in a pouch on her abdomen. As the eggs ripen, the wasp grows a horn-like appendage on its ovipositor in the shape of a hollow stinger._

_When gestation is advanced, the female will search out the web of the_ _Norstis spider_ _, a web-weaving arachnid of exceptional mass. The wasp will then entangle itself in the spider's web, drawing out the hunter with the lure of a tasty meal. When the spider crawls atop the wasp to inject it with its venom, the wasp drives its stinger-like ovipositor deep into the spider's abdomen, instantly injecting her eggs into it. The fluid injected with the eggs contains a stunning agent that temporarily paralyzes the spider. If all goes well, the wasp chews its way out of the web before the spider regains mobility. Off it flies to find another host, repeating this process until all its eggs have been deposited._

The eggs will soon hatch, feeding upon the host spider until they mature. They will then make incisions in the outer skin of the spider to escape, riding its back until their wings harden for flight. If enough eggs are deposited within a spider, the larvae may actually bleed the animal dry.')

* * *

Sarah, Planetee and Trisha strode along the fighting bridge of IronStone, a newly commissioned 'class A' frigate soon bound to join the First Fleet. Between them ambled Admiral TaqaEsem, commander of the Tarezabarian Fleet, who was preparing to depart for the frontier regions of the Trizentine. For three months, the crews of the admiral's ships had worked, feverishly converting their old homes into formidable ships of war. The final touches having been finished, they were in a hurry to join up with an undisclosed number of Tarezabarian ships already covertly seeking passage into forbidden territories.

When they entered the forward section of the bridge, Planetee suggested the other three tour the command center one deck above them, she departing to keep a previous appointment with Jebbson Garlock. From there the trio was able to view the busy Crontiriny Navy Depot, floating just above one of the small moons of HaserSar, the next planet in the star system out from their home planet, EdenEsonbar. HaserSar, meaning 'Castle of the Prince' **,** had long been populated, albeit lightly. It was rich in natural resources - iron ore, copper, manganese and other valuable elements. And its relative closeness to their sun permitted the use of solar furnaces to smelt the metals. For these and other reasons, it had been selected as a navy hub for building and refitting ships.

TaqaEsem was pleased to see how quickly Special Forces had managed to put together its first in a series of small hunter squadrons. Taking advantage of Mihai's 'Constraints of War' proclamation, permitting the seizure of goods and property if needed for the war effort, Sarah was nearly ready to launch the first of her Wolf Pack fleets. At Crontiriny and several other naval yards in the EdenEsonbar star system, over three hundred ketches and luggers were being outfitted for their new roles. No longer would these small, sleek ships haul freight. When finally released again into the depths of space, they would be heavily armed killers, hulls of blood-red and midnight-black, each one bearing an insignia of a skull and crossbones on its forecastle.

As the trio looked at a huge wall monitor panning the northern portion of the depot, Sarah expressed her added satisfaction. "Our man, Jebbson, has come through for us. Already in the dockyards of HaserSar over a hundred keels have been laid for the ninety day wonders he promised us. If all goes well, in less than four months the first of the Mosquito Class fighting sloops will be launched. New facilities are being constructed to build many more of these little boats. Within a year, production may well be up to one thousand a month, reaching a peak production in three years of twenty-five hundred a month."

When Sarah saw the shock and disbelief on TaqaEsem's face, she was quick to offer more information. "Admiral, these ships are very crude and quite small, many not being larger than some of the heavies that the Navy currently uses. Their difference is in the design. While heavies are built for massive payloads of ordnance, their range is limited to the general vicinity of the fleet. It is rare to find them alone in deep space.

"On the other hand, these fighting sloops have been designed for long sojourns into the galaxy. Their sleek, narrow hulls and relatively big engines leave little room for creature comforts. The wardroom serves as galley, crew mess and officers' quarters. Only the captain has a private cabin, and a very little one at that. The crew sleeps at their guns, so to speak. But the ships are very tough, well armed, and fast...real fast. Their size makes them easy to hide from enemy eyes. Their speed makes them good raiders, but allows for rapid escape if necessary. And they have enough firepower to take on cutters or even small barks. Why, I believe a brigantine or light class frigate would be hard-pressed in a contest with two or three of the little brutes."

Sarah smiled. "As for your wonder at the amount that we plan to produce, HaserSar is only one of the shipyards being readied for the production of these fighting sloops. Already, throughout the safe-havens of the Empire, hundreds of new yards are being constructed or soon will be. We will need thousands upon thousands of warships of all classes before this contest is finished. Even now, over half of all volunteers joining up are being funneled into manufacturing and construction, and that percentage, I think, will soon rise."

Trisha confirmed Sarah's statement, adding, "When the war turns into an offensive campaign, there will be need for thousands of transports. We will require enough battle fleets able to not only deliver our advancing armies quickly to strategic locations, but to also protect our military operations. To be successful, we must not be dependent on home bases but be able to carry the battle in full measure to our enemy's lands. The one hundred huge transports you have loaned us are a generous gift, but there will be need for a thousand times that number if we are to drive Asotos and his people from these worlds."

TaqaEsem shook his head in disbelief. "If all the fires in the midnight sky gave hand to offer strength, how can such things be possible? We spent nearly six centuries preparing for our own journey to faraway kingdoms. How does one find belief in what you say is to be done?"

Trisha reached out and patted the admiral on the arm. "My friend, I would not believe it myself if I had not studied the histories of my old people. They have done well making the tools of war and quite quickly, if I may add. If they can do such a thing even when so few are of proper age and health to deal with the demands of conflict, then your people, who never grow old or sick nor are tied down with little children... your people should be able to do much more and even be faster at accomplishing your task. By the time our army has risen to full strength, we hope to see one hundred million battle-ready soldiers and nine hundred million more serving in support fields."

TaqaEsem again shook his head in awe and bewilderment. He understood that Lowenah had birthed many children, but the thought of billions overwhelmed him. Yet to have a war needing a billion on one side to win, it meant that there were nearly as many on the opposing side, and they were all the children of Lowenah. He expressed his wonder.

Sarah asked, "Admiral, how old are you?"

"How old am I?" His face contorted in puzzlement, like a schoolboy searching for an obvious answer to a question he had not been prepared to hear. "How old am I?" He fell into deep thought. After seemingly endless silence, he confessed, "If you are asking how the years are on me, I do not know. Many ages I remember. Planets I have seen born and die. I do not know."

Sarah responded, "Admiral TaqaEsem, I have seen fewer than sixty winters, yet I perceive the width and breadth of matters in this place better than you. In my old world, we had to accomplish our task quickly. That included our child bearing. It was not uncommon for a woman to give birth to eight, ten or even twelve children all in a matter of fifteen or twenty years. We were always in a hurry." She went on to explain, "Lowenah was in no hurry, so I perceive you saw few children born before you departed this place. Let me ask you, how many ships have your people built since leaving here?"

The admiral scratched his head, thinking. It was a perplexing question and took him a great deal of time to reply. After much thought, he answered, "Our ships are strong. They will last many times your life. And we would only build new ones when a desire for departing to discover other worlds would fill our hearts. Still, I suppose that our hands crafted many thousands over the ages."

Trisha interrupted, "Time, my friend, time... It is what you've had an abundance of. You have not bothered to keep track of time because, for you, it never ends. For us, it was - it still is the only thing we can contemplate, while to you it has mattered little. Truth be told, there has passed enough time for Lowenah to have birthed billions upon billions of children. Why, from all I can understand, our new king, Michael, has lived well over three billion of our years, and she is considered only a child in the eyes of most of her siblings."

Considering the matter their way helped the admiral grasp what was being brought to his attention. Some things were subtle, others not so. The not so obvious ones dealt with the need to start thinking in elements of time - very small pieces of time. It would be the swift in this war who would win the day. Those who took too much time to consider things would lose. The more apparent fact was that enough time had passed to allow him to have many more brothers and sisters than he realized.

Lowenah had always kept secret the complete number of children born to her. Asotos' mind could recall all the women because they had been given as gifts to him at their coming of age. Tolohe could recall all the males, because she had gifted to them her wisdom. But no one else had any knowledge regarding the matter, Lowenah leaving secret the number of inhabitants there were in the First Realm.

Trisha's eyes glowed with gentle warmth as she joined in other banter the three soon busied themselves in. Although still straightforward and unmovable in her resolve and determination to accomplish her goals, and often off-the-cuff blunt when it came to expressing her opinion about war preparations, the woman had changed during the past weeks. Gone was the hard-edged callousness like the kind she demonstrated at the prisoner exchange. Dissipating also was the inner bitterness she had carried for so many years - the bitterness of feeling she had been cheated out of a future life promised her so long ago. A new fire burned within her bosom, one of hope and determination to make the very future she had often dreamed of a reality, not just for herself, but for those gone before her, those standing with her, and those yet to come.

Along with that new warmth came a cheery glow that could be seen in her hazel eyes. It drew people to her, as it was doing with TaqaEsem. He addressed her, reaching out to hold her hand as he did so. "Commander Trisha, my desire would have so much been to spend more time in your company. To share our thoughts in dreaming would have been a great pleasure to my heart. Alas, the hour will soon come for our parting. May our paths join without much distant time."

Trisha glanced at Sarah, who appeared oblivious to the meaning of the admiral's statement. She returned TaqaEsem's gaze, pondering the admiral's words. There was no question to what he referred - the dream share that was commonly practiced by these people. For her years here there had been great resistance to such a thing, a refusing to bend from her former traditions. Zadar had broken down some of the painful walls that life's past experiences had built. The charge of adulteress had burned for many years in her breasts. A fear of a resurgence of that old guilt had caused the woman to distance herself from most men.

Now, as Trisha gazed back into the admiral's eyes, the woman remembered her own words spoken to Zadar not so long ago. 'It is I who now live in your world, not you in mine. You create much joy, and you give it to many. Please, do not take that away from them.' Yes, she now lived, not in a world filled with rules and laws, but one with freedom from fellow dictators. These people were innocent of heart, their actions caring and loving. Who was she to stand as a resister against a culture much more honest and ancient than any from her earlier life in the Second Realm?

Trisha squeezed TaqaEsem's hand. "IronStone leaves on the evening shadow and I travel with it for my business is with the captain of the Navy. The night is not a book for me to write down destinies, but there still remain fleeting afternoon hours with empty pages upon which we can scribe our marks. What shall you say? Is a sip of wine better than none at all? If you agree, then I offer you leave to join me for some in my cabin."

TaqaEsem smiled, closing his other hand over hers. Sarah instantly grasped the meaning of Trisha's statement to the admiral and she offered an excuse for her departing their company. After affectionate hugs and warm goodbyes, she exited the command bridge, eventually leaving for a conference with some of her junior commanders.

Trisha led the admiral away, somewhat nervous but satisfied with the decision she had made. Here was one of the Ancients, willing to share dreams with her, a child having little to offer in return. During the following years, in the lonely hours when sleep fled her eyes, the woman would fondly recall that day. Then tears flowed as bittersweet memories waltzed through her mind, remembering a gentle man gone from their lives but never forgotten.

* * *

As a freshly scented breeze tickled soft, downy hairs on Ishtar's arms and legs, she lay on silky-smooth sheets that made her feel like she was floating weightless on a satiny cloud. Long she luxuriated in this ecstasy of sensations before wakefulness drove away fog of mystic dreams. As if resisting leaving the magical world of sleep, one eye grudgingly began to open, stopping half way to examine its surroundings. Eventually, the other eye gave up the fight and began to raise its shades to the day. The late morning sun, having finally struggled high enough into the sky to overcome the mountain-like fortress walls, flooded over the battlements, streaming through the open window of the girl's room, instantly bathing her skin in tingling warmth. With a start, she shot up in bed, eyes wide open. All sleepiness fled as two astonished, emerald green orbs surveyed her surroundings.

Never before had this child of past ages seen such a breathtakingly beautiful room. Its ancient walls were hewn from every color of marble, ornately trimmed with obsidian, alabaster, jade and other semiprecious stones, while brightly colored mosaics of strange, exotic birds and animals graced both ceiling and floor. A banister of carved marble inlaid with ivory and gold crossed in front of the window where the golden-yellow sun was triumphantly presenting itself. Everywhere were wondrous treasures crafted with jewels, diamonds, gold, silver and, oh, so many other sparkling gems and metals she had never before seen.

Another breeze wafted across the room, sending a sensual rush of excitement through her flesh. She looked down, marveling at her shimmering, sleeveless nightdress that sparkled with a thousand rainbow colors as the sun danced across it. The satin sheets radiated the same colorful rhapsody as the gown, and the silken curtains beside the window sang out a similar hypnotic melody.

Sounds drifting through the opened window drew Ishtar's attention away from spellbinding scenes inside the room. At first she was afraid to move but curiosity finally got the best of her. First one foot and then another slid from the bed, finally touching the cool, stone floor. After quietly standing, she silently made her way to the banister, peering upon a garden far grander than her eyes had ever beheld, causing the girl to gasp in amazement.

As if answering her, Ishtar heard a voice call out from far below. Scanning the garden floor, she spied an all too familiar smiling face looking back at her. In shock, the girl jumped back, her heart pounding. "Lowenah!" she cried. All the recent events...the palace, chariot ride, palace chamber, and the person sitting on the throne...all of those things flooded her mind, quickly followed by dreaded memories of how rude and demeaning she had acted toward Lowenah...God!

A crushing feeling of guilt accompanied by a crippling, nauseous ache in the pit of her stomach sent Ishtar into a swirling dizziness. She staggered back to the bed, falling on it as a torrent of tears erupted, remorse over her foolishness filling the girl's heart. As if afflicted with uncontrolled seizures, she thrashed about, stricken with a grief like that of a mother lamenting the loss of her children. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her struggle and weariness from anguish as she drifted off to sleep.

A hand gently shook Ishtar's shoulder, stirring her to wake. Her sleeping mind heard a cooing voice as if far away softly calling to her, "Ishtar, my child, it is time to rise...Ishtar..." Tingling warmth flowed from that hand into the girl's arm...soothing, comforting warmth. It coursed through every fiber of her body, releasing all remorse and regret and putting her at ease. Although she well remembered her anguish, it became more like some dream than reality. Gradually Ishtar stirred, one eye and then the other slowly opening, the wall on the far side of the room filling her vision. "Mother..." Ishtar whispered, "I miss my mother..."

Fingers lovingly stroked the girl's arm, Lowenah's voice softly echoing in her ear. "One day, my child...one day your mother will again hold you. It is not that far away. There are many here who love you and they will care for your needs until that hour arrives."

Cautiously, Ishtar rolled over, Lowenah extending a hand, assisting her up in the bed. For what seemed ages, the two sat almost nose to nose, staring into each other's eyes...two women, appearing to be the same age, two pair of emerald green eyes reflecting secret feelings and emotions that no language had yet created words to describe, two children filled with wonder at their discoveries. A silent bond was being forged between them, as solid as Ishtar had bonded with Darla. All fear of God evaporated from the girl's heart, never to return. She was beginning to understand who the real Maker of All Things is. She was beginning to fall in love.

Lowenah pressed a finger to Ishtar's lips while with her other hand she gently pulled the child from the bed, taking the girl from the room. After wandering along several passageways and descending a golden, spiral staircase, Ishtar found herself standing on a flagstone path in the same garden courtyard that she had seen from her window far above, a mesmerizing world filled with intoxicating delights that excited the senses.

Eyes as big as saucers, Ishtar stared into a magical wonderland only to be found in this tiny universe secreted behind these high garden walls. She squealed with delight at the strange and beautiful creatures. One particularly drew her attention, an animal looking much like a manta ray wafting along on the breeze. As it gracefully glided by, its wide, translucent blue body rippling, propelling it along, she reached out to touch it.

"Please, my dear, do be careful!" Lowenah cautioned the girl.

Ishtar quickly withdrew her hand. "I'm sorry," she quietly replied. "I meant no harm."

"Harm? Oh, yes..." Lowenah smiled. "My dear, that is a most fragile creature. Why even a strong wind may tear it apart. But it is for your protection that I called out." The little animal floated past and vanished through some cave-like opening in a wall. "You see, I have covered its body with countless little stingers. It discourages other animals or curious fingers from disturbing it. You might well suffer ill effects from such an encounter for many days."

She apologized to Lowenah, but that experience did not dampen her curiosity. As she scampered about the garden, snooping under this leaf and poking about that plant, she would squeal in delight with each new discovery, pummeling Lowenah with one question after another about this wonderful place. Like her uncle, Symeon, Lowenah knew the impetuous child would soon tire of this adventure.

While her excitement still lingered, Lowenah took the girl's hand, leading Ishtar along a path to a stone table in the middle of the garden. It took little prompting to get Ishtar to open up. The girl did have many, many questions.

For hour upon endless hour, the two huddled in deep conversation. It was a most remarkable day. And should I comment on all that was discussed and revealed, I doubt there would be pages enough in this book to detail it. There were also many questions of a personal nature that I feel are not mine to reveal. But some things warrant mention.

Ishtar had been intrigued with Lowenah's explanation of the mind and how it survives beyond the physical body. Learning the makeup of the Universal Web - the invisible netlike structure into which all other things of the universe were placed - fascinated the girl. But when it was described how the Web of the Mind was another netlike structure that interlaced the Universal Web, and how it collected to the growing cells of living things, Ishtar was overcome with amazement. Yet it was this knowledge of the danger facing all living things that helped the child to grow in accepting her responsibility regarding bringing the Rebellion to a finish.

After watching Lowenah as she chatted with her, Ishtar couldn't help but ask, "Who are you, really? You came to me in the village, acting like some domestic servant. You told me your name was 'Lowenah'. Then I come to stand before God and you are there. I see powerful things and am warned to be so careful or else I should die. Which part of all this is really you? Which part is real?"

Lowenah laughed, "They both are. I am all of those things."

"I don't understand," Ishtar replied. "In fact, I don't understand why they call you 'Lowenah'. Isn't your name 'Yehowah'?"

"Yehowah?" Lowenah smiled, "Lowenah?" She became silent, as if buried in thought. After some time, she addressed Ishtar's question. "Both of those names belong to me and yet I have many, many, more than just those two."

Lowenah now delved into the value of names and what they truly mean. "A person's name is really a title that identifies some special quality the individual has or the reputation acquired. The longer one lives, the more titles he or she might receive. You see, the title 'Yehowah' was given to me many years before your birth. In fact, it was to your ancestor, Moses, that I first identified myself using that name. Before then, to people of your world, I was known as 'Iam', the greatest of all gods. I explained that 'Yehowah', when translated, means, 'I shall prove to be whatever I want to be'. The king of Egypt soon found out how real that meaning is."

She took Ishtar's hand in hers and began to play with the girl's fingers. "All my children have private names for me \- special names. For that child, the name he or she gave me has a treasured meaning behind it. I dare not tell you what those names are or what they represent, for each one is secret to the heart of each one giving it. Also, my children bestow titles on each other, friend and foe. I'm sure you have heard the name 'Asotos'."

Ishtar eyes twinkled with acknowledgement. "Oh, yes! They say he is wicked chieftain of all the demons."

Lowenah's smile faded. "Your people call them 'demons' in your old realm. To us they are only the rebels, or we may call them 'Pseudes', which is a title that means 'false witness' or 'liar'. When we speak of demons, we are referring to the machines and diseases that have been invented by the Pseudes in their mad desire to control others." She released the girl's one hand and picked up the other and started fondling it. "'Asotos' is also a title given to the wicked chieftain by my loyal children."

Lowenah sat there, gently stroking Ishtar's palm. "'Lowenah' is the name I gave to myself after creating this universe." She broke out with a big toothy grin. "It literally means 'whispering waters' in the most ancient of all languages, one that was invented long before speech existed. You will find runes inscribed throughout the old palace and outer walls. Few except me understand the written words and fewer still are able to pronounce them in the common vernacular unless I have given them power to do so."

Ishtar interrupted, curious, "What's a 'vernacular'?"

"It's the sound of words rolling off our tongues that we call 'speech'." Lowenah then returned to her topic. "You have seen Zadar's and Darla's rings, haven't you?"

Ishtar thought a moment. "Oh, yes, the onyx rings with their different colors."

Lowenah agreed it was so, explaining, "The power within each ring permits its owner the ability to master the speech of some of those words. I will tell you more of that later. Let me return to names and titles. The original language I gave to the most ancient of your people was taken from my own children's common tongue of the day. My daughter, Terey, spent thousands of years compiling lists of dialects all my children had developed over time. She gathered a pool of the most widely understood terms and created a catalog of sorts. It came to be known as 'the common tongue'.

"In the common tongue, 'Lowenah' is translated into 'I am MAN'. The word 'MAN' simply means 'Maker of all Nations'. So, before I was known to your people as 'Lowenah', I was simply known as 'MAN', or 'MAN, the Creator'. Later, after the Rebellion had corrupted all things, people started calling on my name in a way I had never intended. My son expended all his efforts to make me appear cruel and demanding, turning me into an unapproachable, temperamental deity. Soon they were building great edifices to me, and they changed the meaning of my name to match their newfound superstitions and fears of me. In time, that name came to be known only as 'God'. And eventually that name was stolen by my wicked son and given to his servants, who made themselves into gods before the people of your old realm.

"When I put my name, Lowenah, on a chosen people, the nations round about associated that name with those people and came to hate it so much, none of my rebellious children ever tried to steal it." Lowenah released Ishtar's hand and turned away as if suddenly taking note of some disturbance in the garden, wiping a tear from her eye as the gentle breeze carried the sadness of her next words. "It is the only thing they've not attempted to steal from me."

She let out a long sigh, turning back to Ishtar, concluding, "I have continued to use that name or derivatives of it down to this day because it appeals only to those who care for me. My enemies still hate the mention of it, the wise ridicule it, and the foolish speak of it in jest."

More time passed. Questions came and answers went. Finally Lowenah addressed Ishtar's other question, 'Who really are you?'

"My little child, you have seen who I really am." Lowenah grinned, watching Ishtar's face screw up in puzzlement. "I do love how full of expression you can be. Some of my children find you difficult to deal with. I think there is truth to what they say. Still, I do like the way I made you. And when you learn how to be a woman, those traits will serve you well."

Then Lowenah went on to answer the girl's question. "My dear, I have shown to you my personality and my legal and real power. First, Lowenah - the woman who spent so much time with you - that's me. Long before I created anything outside of my body, I had built countless universes in my mind. Those universes are as real as the one you reside in. The fiery Cherubs and flying creatures you saw earlier are all part of those worlds. I have great power in my mind and can bring anything it has imagined into this, or any other reality.

"As Lowenah, I played in the worlds I had earlier invented. There were countless playmates there for me to enjoy. The playmates could – can think and reason, some having very intelligent minds... somewhat like the Cherubs. Oh, but the Cherubs are wonderful people, much like my children in so many ways. They are from an age beyond time, born from my immortal self long before I built this body of flesh." She mused in pleasant thought. "A very wonderful people..." adding, concerning her other playmates, "They are much like animals in the sense they were made to be more predictable, like a dog or cat."

She patted Ishtar on the arm. "I also have invented many, uh, machines, you might say, that can also think and reason. Some of these machines have much greater thinking and reasoning abilities than my children. They are kept here." She pointed toward her head. "I conjure them up in my mind when I have need of their services. They are the tools I have used in making so many of my creations.

"Those tools are what your people have called 'spirit', 'Holy Spirit'." She groaned. "And then you went off and made another god out of them.

"My children born to me were given some of these tools - spirit - as a gift, some more, some less. It has been with these tools that many of the 'miracles', as you call them, have been accomplished for your people. Remember your vision the night my daughter visited you in prison?"

Ishtar said she did.

"Some of that was done with the power of the mind, the 'Holy Spirit' that I'd given my daughter, Darla." She explained, "That Spirit has no heart. It is absolute. It doesn't play off emotions. That's why it was made Judge of the minds of all my children. In turn, I handed over to the Cherubs the keys to that portion of the 'Spirit', for they are not influenced by whimsical hearts."

She put her hand in Ishtar's. "Lowenah is very emotional. She might not be a fair judge, considering what mood she would be in at the time. I couldn't take the chance of being unfair to any of my children in that respect, so I left all eternal judging to the Spirit. It decides if a mind should be collected to the Web of the Minds, or if it should dissolve like an animal's, back into the Web of the Universe."

Ishtar piped up, "You mean that you have never destroyed anyone at all?"

Lowenah quickly responded, "Destroyed as in killing off? No. I have killed the bodies of my enemies, some here, some in your old realm. But I never killed the mind of anyone. Actually, the owner of that mind brings it to nothing. It is only when he or she reaches the point where the Spirit can no longer compensate for a person's motives and actions that the Spirit releases the bond holding the mind together. Then, at the death of the body, the mind dissipates into nothingness. It's gone."

"So, my mother?" the girl wondered aloud.

Lowenah squeezed Ishtar's hand, grinning, "Your mother was a foolish woman, but she was acting like a mother when she called down evil upon your uncle that day long ago. Yes, I have checked to see, and the mind of your mother rests a peaceful rest. One day you will see to it that she returns in the flesh to the Realms Below."

Tears filled the girl's eyes. For some time she sat in silence. "Thank you...thank you..." she softly replied, as tears ran down her face. "I have worried so. I miss her."

Lowenah reached forward, placing her fingers against the girl's temple. A moment later she sat back. "There...tonight, when you dream, a visit you will make upon her much as I did several times with you when you floated alongside her in the realm of the minds. Be at peace, my child."

The thought of such a thing and also the realization that she had been near her mother as they both drifted in a land of sleep overwhelmed the child. She cried and cried with a joy few of us can understand. It was some time before the two renewed their conversation.

At length, Lowenah returned to the earlier subject. "As I have told you, my might and authority are based on my mental powers and abilities. From them I have the right to be whatever I choose to be. But I don't choose to have to live that way. That's why Lowenah is much happier in the reality of this realm. She didn't want to surround herself with only creatures of predetermined thoughts and abilities.

"When I was ready to produce children with minds and hearts capable of change - exact replications of my own mind and heart - I chose to make sure they were truly independent from me, like the immortal Cherubs are. I wanted them to be truly free. Their home needed to be separate from me, able to function without my personal interference. So the universe I created for them was made from a piece of my body. It is a universe fully independent from me and everlasting but not indestructible."

Ishtar's eyes grew big in wonder. Lowenah laughed, "No! No! Not this body you see. Do you recall your vision with my daughter, Rachel...Darla and the sphere disappearing into the woman's body?"

Ishtar thought a moment. Her eyes brightened as she excitedly asked, "Was that you?"

Lowenah laughed, "Yes, or at least it represented me. I was showing you how my real body is buried deep within this one. My real body works for me in similar fashion to the way your mind works for you. It is the place where all real thought and feeling originates. You see, the brain is only a very complex connector from the body which is the sensor to the world around you, to the mind, which is the real person. The big difference between your mind and mine is that I don't need any body to continue thinking and feeling, or to manifest my power. Your brain is a machine to connect you to the mind while mine is not. Another thing my body does is to cloak my true form. Without that protection, none of my children could survive my glory.

"My body is made up of living energy. I can take from it and make or create things apart from me. The physical universes are among my greatest achievements. The amount of my essence or self that is contained within it is only a very small fraction of my total mass. It is also true, because all things come from me, all things reflect who I am. No easier can a zebra change its stripes than can I change my personality."

Ishtar started with another question, but Lowenah stopped her. "Let me finish. I built all my external universes... and I have many... into another web, a base or foundation, you might say \- the one previously mentioned. It is called the 'Web of the Universe'. Let me explain what that web is.

"One day you will learn about what men call 'physics' and concepts such as mass and energy, all sorts of good things. For now, let me put it this way. The Web of the Universe is like one giant mind in that it has a form of intelligence and the ability to think and reason to a degree. That mind is thick, like pea soup, made up of numberless little hair-like spheres with tentacles that may stretch for countless leagues. All this is invisible to your eyes and senses. They're excitable little things always wanting everything just so. Life is an intrusion for them because it doesn't do things just so. Also, some of the spheres...I will call them 'midges' so you can picture something in your mind...these midges want to move anything they touch in a circular motion, some to the right, others to the left, one resisting the other. This constant state of resistance places the universe in motion, never letting it rest.

"As the strength of any certain group of midges grows or wanes against the other, strange things begin to happen in those various places. A planet or star system may be formed or it may go away. Because the midges are always growing or losing in strength, the universe is always in a fuss and tumult. It's always changing. If a planet is to exist forever, some outside force must be applied to make it so.

"Now, with some star systems, this one and your old one, for example, I built into them a form of thinking ability that does two things. One, it keeps the star system intact, not allowing the midges opportunity to destroy it. Two, it encourages and nurtures life. That's why, no matter what the midges or any other force tries to do, your old planet would infuse power of life back into the area. And that's why such places are everlasting. Not all star systems are built in such a way and, although they might contain life or one day have it, that will not prevent the midges from bringing the system to ruin."

Lowenah became silent for some time. When she spoke again it was with a sad, solemn tone. "As I said, this universe is not indestructible. The discord of the Rebellion threatens the existence of the midges. I did not design them with the ability to withstand such an imbalance in the harmonics. I am trapped by law from altering their design until after this Rebellion is brought to a finish. If it is not ended soon, all may be lost. It has been forced on the shoulders of my children to crush it. That is why I created you."

"Created me?" Ishtar exclaimed in question. "How so other than all men are created? Was I not sired by my father and born from my mother?"

"Yes, my child," Lowenah cheerfully answered, "but I created you nonetheless. You see, I spent thousands of years manipulating the very fabric that makes you who you are. From days long before I washed your old world away in my anger, I have been busy building the leaders of my future universe - the gods who are to rule over all things. The qualities needed to carry such responsibilities and remain humble are not found in many people. They either are humble with no ability to rule, or have strong leadership abilities but are full of pride and haughtiness."

Lowenah saddened, lamenting, "Even my own children seem to lack the needed qualities of good, balanced leadership. Few have shown the endurance to stay the course to its finish. They tire out, you know, start wishing for the good things, the way it used to be. I needed a new creation of sorts, one that could be molded into the kind of leaders I need. I could not birth that creation for several reasons.

"So, in order to find the people with the proper balance, long ago I began to weave the desired qualities into selected candidates. From one generation to another, I would patiently mix those desired qualities. After my child bought all men for me at the loss of his own life, I could freely choose anyone with those traits. That's why I chose your father to bring you into existence. From his life force I took what I wanted and mixed it with a selected seed from your mother. From them came you, a chosen vessel, created for one very special and important purpose...to one day become a ruler over nations."

Ishtar was confused and bewildered. While shaking her head, she cried out, "No! You must be mistaken. It cannot be me! I am only a little child, a very spoiled and unruly little brat. I am fully unfit to do a thing!"

Lowenah chuckled, "Do not be too hasty with self-deprecation, my dear. What I have told you is for a future day. You must grow up first. When your hour comes, you will be ready. For now, it is a time to learn. You must also prepare for your other assignments that will come soon. I did not have your father name you 'Ishtar' for no reason. That name will become a most feared and dreaded one among my wicked and rebellious children. You will also deliver to me the Thunder, and he will be escorted by Kali, the one who will bring the blood and fire."

Ishtar was caught up speechless and fully confused. Lowenah reassured her, "I have only informed you of things yet to come to help you see the need to take your training seriously. You must learn to become a woman in your majesty and strength. My children are in need of what you have to offer. Allow my instructors opportunity to draw it out from you. Your training will soon start in earnest. Stay humble and learn from what you are taught, for whether you should do well or poorly, the same task will be placed before you. The lives of many of my children will rest upon decisions you will make."

Lowenah stood and stretched. She walked around the table and took Ishtar by the hand, drawing her up. "Enough of all of this. There exists a time for all things. Let me show you the home you will reside in for awhile. Come and let me give you a tour of what I have built with my own hands."

With that, the two darted down the path, disappearing from the garden through a darkened passageway.

* * *

Shikkeron lay moored alongside the fleet carrier, Admiral Lonche, its passage tubes having just been secured. Major Darla was already standing at the sealed door when, with the sound of air equalizing the center chamber signaling the lock complete, it slowly slid open. She stepped out and onto the mezzanine deck of the carrier, just forward and beneath the middle hangar deck.

There was a bustle of activity here, workers and pilots hurrying to various stations while visitors and officers from other ships mingled with the orderly mayhem already going on. Darla scanned faces in the crowd looking for the man she had most missed. Her searching did not last long. A shout from the balcony of the upper lounge caught her attention. In only moments, Euroaquilo was down the steps, racing across the floor to greet her, calling out Darla's name as he reached to take her in his arms. As the two held each other close, totally unashamed in their warm display of affection, there was the occasional smile from passersby, but little other attention was visited upon the passionate embrace being shared by these lovers.

At long last Euroaquilo eased hold of his treasure, pushing back so as to look into Darla's face. In astonishment he asked, "My dear, why the tears? Never in all our years have you greeted me in such a way. Indeed, never have I seen you cry so openly."

At that moment, Ardon hurried out the passage door. Having been absorbed in other duties, he was upon them before recognizing who they were. He stopped up short, tipping his head in awkward salutation, glanced at Darla then darted away about his business. Euroaquilo's eyes followed the man and then he turned his attention back to his companion. He saw that Darla was following Ardon with her eyes, too, continuing to do so until the man disappeared into the crowd.

A wary suspicion floated on Euroaquilo's question. "Has he been up to some old mischief again?"

Darla drew her tear-filled eyes back to Euroaquilo's. In a sober, subdued voice she answered, "No, no, that is not the case at all." Her head sank, a giant tear falling with a _splat!_ on the floor. "No, my love, he has saved my life, but I'm afraid the secrets I have revealed may cost me dearly." She pulled Euroaquilo close. "Just hold me a moment longer. Then we can go to a private place and I can tell you all that is in my heart."

They embraced again. This time Euroaquilo just held Darla, letting his strength reassure her of his love and care. After some time, the two released each other and, arm in arm, retreated to a secluded corner in the officers' lounge on the opened deck above. They sat at the tiny table, holding hands. Refreshment was requested and soon the orderly had returned with two steaming cups of some sort of minted tea.

Darla did not desire the normal, casual banter that most often starts conversations. She went first to discussing MoonDust and what evidence her forensic team had discovered. Euroaquilo patiently listened to the general, overall information, finding it intriguing and somewhat chilling. If Asotos' forces and the Stasis had truly allied themselves, the Trizentine would be that much more a dangerous place. Yet it was the Trizentine that was least protected, thus making it very vulnerable to such a confederacy. It could also lead to open war coming sooner than expected.

At length, he interrupted, "Please, my dear, what you tell me is important. You have convinced me, but now we must make sure the Council of Inquiry is as equally informed. I am admiral of this fleet, but I am not its sole decision-maker. I will recommend the inquiry be conducted here, aboard this ship, with the members of general command or their archon liege. We must keep this quiet. The fewer people who know about this at present, the better." Euroaquilo stood to leave. "There is precious little time to waste. Would you like me to escort you to my cabin to freshen up a bit? I will return directly, as soon as this business is set in motion."

Darla smiled, tingling excitement flowing up and down her back at the thought of the importance being placed on this new information. She started to accept Euroaquilo's escort then stopped. "Thank you, but no. Let me return to my ship and retrieve the research and evidence we collected. I can find my own way to your cabin." The two embraced and kissed, then hurried off in separate directions.

Darla raced back to Shikkeron to retrieve the materials for presentation. On the way, she saw Leftenant Ilanit, pressing her into service. They entered through the forward passage tube, bringing them into the staging hold directly below the bridge. From there, the two followed the corridor leading to the Marine command room. They were stopped up short by a closed bulkhead door. 'Strange...' Darla thought. She reached out and, taking a firm grip of the handle, cracked the lock while pushing forward.

Instantly, an icy wave of nauseous fear exploded in the back of her head, rippling down her back and through her hips, clear to her feet, while spreading out until Darla's entire body was paralyzed by it. From inside her head, she felt something stir as if it were being alerted to some danger or that it was alerting someone else to danger. A black cloud of panic started taking hold of the woman, immobilizing her.

In a flash, the crippling terror had passed, a fleeting shadow whisking away down the corridor. Darla sucked in a breath, hesitating before opening the fire door until she fully felt her bearings again. Although seeming like an eternity had passed, Darla's leftenant appeared to have noticed nothing. She was still bantering on with the story she had been telling when the two reached this place.

Darla lifted her fingers to her mouth and Ilanit hushed. As silently as possible, Darla pushed the hatch open until she could shove her head through and take a look. Nothing was out of place. She opened the hatch the rest of the way and entered, Ilanit close behind. Again she scanned the passage for any sign of trouble. Satisfied at finding none, she let out an audible sigh and suggested to the now somewhat nervous leftenant they should continue on.

Only a few paces more and Darla froze again, but this time it was from what she saw. The Marine wardroom portal was ajar, visible scratches on its paint testifying to an unwanted intruder. In less than a heartbeat, Darla's lanner was drawn. She slammed through the door, sinking low, weapon high, sweeping it from left to right. Seeing that the room was empty, she holstered her lanner, scanning the room for clues. It was obvious that someone had been here, a broken hasp near a file cabinet convincing her.

As the major turned to make comment, she chanced to see a crumpled piece of paper on a chair near the cabinet and stooped to retrieve it. At first puzzled, her brows furrowed and then her eyes grew large as she recognized what was in her hand. "Quick," she shouted, pushing past Ilanit, "follow me!" Off Darla went on a run.

They did not stop until just outside of Darla's cabin. The door was locked but, peering close, the major could see little scratches on the latch. Quickly she opened the door, only to find someone had rifled the room, appearing to have abandoned it in a hurry. Darla could find little missing except a small notebook used to scribble on while she was searching for evidence on MoonDust.

Examining the scribbled notes on the crumpled paper in her hand, Darla pondered what anyone would be interested in obtaining. Suddenly it all crystallized in her mind. Darla's face filled with dread as she jumped for the cabin door. "Follow me!" she shouted over her shoulder as she raced down the corridor.

Darla reached Ardon's cabin just as Ilanit caught up with her. Breathless, the leftenant asked, "Major Darla, what is this all about?"

Darla quickly unlocked the door, stepping quietly into the darkened room. A cool freshness of undisturbed air gently caressed her face as she reached for the light, fearing the worst. All was still and it appeared that nothing had been disturbed. She stepped across the room, nervously reaching for the warrant locker. It felt as if it took her forever to work the lock's tumblers so it would release. She pulled open a drawer and let out a long, satisfying sigh. The little medical valise she had hidden there was sitting unmolested atop the pile of papers she had collected from the forensic research of MoonDust. "Well, he came through again."

Recognizing what Darla was holding, Leftenant Ilanit's hand went to her chest as she breathed a heavy sigh. "There it is..." Hesitatingly, she asked, "Is that the treasure you feared lost?"

Darla softly replied, "It appears that whoever rummaged the room did not know about Ardon and me. He and I...well, I've been careful to enter his cabin unobserved, keeping my close connection with him a secret." She turned to the leftenant, asking, "Please, say nothing about this. I would rather keep our relationship quiet." She looked down, patting the valise. "My decision to trust Ardon has been most fortuitous. After all, with all of the gossip, no one would have considered that Ardon and I..."

Ilanit raised an eyebrow, looking at Darla suspiciously, replying she would obey. "You can trust me, Major. I have a reputation to uphold." She then asked, "Who might have tried to take this?"

Darla pondered, thinking aloud, answering, "Well, it wouldn't have been anyone on the forensic team, because they wouldn't have bothered stealing my notebook, it being of no value to them if they were looking for this." She patted the valise. "My only other guess, then, would be someone who did not want what we discovered turned over to the Council of Inquiry, but I cannot imagine why. It makes no sense to me." She began to reveal something else that she had discovered then thought better of it for the moment, deciding to keep it to herself.

What Darla believed was that the monster within was able to identify a fellow demon and communicate with it and possibly warn it of danger, but it couldn't relay what was thought or spoken by its host. That idea came from the fact that she had known where the physical evidence was, and whomever she and the leftenant had interrupted didn't. If the demon was able relay such knowledge, surely the intruder would have known where to search. That would explain the need for possession of the host. On its own, the demon within was a blind, deaf, and dumb parasite having no independent powers of communication other than limited, silent, animal-like cries that only other monsters could hear. Unless the host would release control to it, or unless it could wrest control away, the demon was virtually helpless.

Darla knew of such smart programs being invented that were able to show different emotions and, if allowed to satisfy them, very well might destroy their hosts. As chilling as the thought of such a monster dwelling inside her might be, it was somewhat comforting to think it remained isolated and alone. That emotion of loneliness might be the reason it earlier sought company, seeking companionship. It was the one desire she wasn't going to allow the thing to satisfy. This thing living inside her mind was the invention of another even more powerful mind...Asotos'.

(Author's note: _Asotos had been privy to vast amounts of technical knowledge for countless ages. Lowenah gave him the singular ability to gather some of the Web of the Minds to give as gifts to her daughters. This bonded them to him in such a special way that many still were troubled with the thought of viewing him as a dangerous rebel._

When Asotos entered Mihai's mind in celebration that day long ago, his twisted invention made from the Web of the Minds was inserted into her. Somehow, a piece of contaminated DNA entered Darla when she nursed at her sister's breasts. It had been the closest thing to intelligent, pro-creative, independent life Asotos had ever invented, and yet he never really knew of his success until he searched Darla's mind at the prisoner exchange.)

Darla's face clouded with concern, staring at the floor, thinking aloud, "But who else might have a demon?"

"Major?" the leftenant asked.

Surprised, Darla looked up, staring into Ilanit's face. "Oh....oh, nothing, nothing at all. It's not important..."

With growing, nervous uncertainty, Ilanit asked, "Shall I call for security and request the ship be locked down?"

Darla began to say "Ye..." quickly changing her mind. "No...no, Leftenant. Let the matter go for now. I think we will do ourselves a disservice if we advertise the seriousness of what has happened. It's better to make whoever rummaged through our goods think we discovered nothing wrong, other than say an unlocked door and a misplaced notebook in my cabin. I think I know what our visitor was searching for. It wasn't found. And I'm going to remove it from further risk. If we remain quiet, they may think we are unaware of what they wanted, thus not alerting them to trouble. I'll make up a report for the captain, outlining the jimmied door on the wardroom. Other than that..." she drew close to the leftenant and whispered, "Now be on the watch and keep your weapon at the ready. I doubt we are in any real danger for the moment, but we will not take chances. Eyes may be watching us. There is a satchel in my cabin. We will put the valise in it and saunter toward the rear exit as though we had other business further astern. Be deliberate but not hasty. Still, the sooner this is in the hands of the right people, the better I'll feel."

Darla and the leftenant managed their way from Shikkeron without incident, Leftenant Ilanit going on about other duties. Ilanit had offered to accompany Darla, but she said it was unnecessary and she would be fine on her own. With a worried look, Ilanit then departed while the major hurried to the safety of Oruomai, Euroaquilo's flagship.

The shuttle trip offered her time to reflect on the day's events. She steeled herself for the two approaching storms she now faced. The battle within she had fought for many millenniums, but now it had reached a new and more dangerous stage. The second battle was dealing with a traitorous enemy disguised as a friend and ally. This one could prove deadly, especially if he or she, or worse, they had communication directly with Asotos' people.

A chill ran down Darla's spine to think that Asotos must have discovered the demon living within her when he probed her mind at the prisoner exchange. He would no doubt desire her capture, enabling him a more in-depth study of his new life form. Little beads of sweat grew on her brow as she contemplated the potential terror all her people faced should he find a way to extract the monster from her and reproduce it. She quietly closed her tear-filled eyes, pained at seeing her brothers and sisters in such a plight.

"You have told me many things that I find interesting and intriguing, but her actions with you are surprising and troubling." Euroaquilo sat in his chair, tugging on his beard in thought. He and Ardon had been buried in conversation for the better part of the morning, their primary discussion being Darla.

Euroaquilo stood and slowly paced the room, his eyes looking toward the wall as he contemplated the issue facing him. Finally he turned back to Ardon. "There is no question in my mind that the demon has reached a new stage of growth. Even if you did not save the girl's sanity, what you did certainly eased a troubled mind." He sat back down. "I also believe you're correct in thinking that the monster hasn't gained control of Darla. Last night in our dream share, I probed deep to find the beast. It not only felt my presence and resented it, it recognized who I was. To top that, it communicated with me in some wild thought language different than earlier times, but it displayed thinking and reasoning ability."

"How can you be sure that it hasn't taken possession of her..." Ardon queried, leaning forward in his armchair, resting his upper weight on his elbows, "maybe not completely, but a little?"

"I appreciate your concern, my brother, and I respect the implications such a possession might mean for the welfare of ship and crew," Euroaquilo replied. "Yet I think it not to be the case at all. First, I can find no link between her and the thing inside her. It actually hates her as much as she hates it. I felt a frustration on its part because it has gained no control. I also think that part of its frustration comes from a feeling of loneliness, being isolated in such an angry prison.

"Second...and I think this is even more important in proving Darla's full sanity and control...I have strong evidence to believe that the girl didn't dream up the other demons on Shikkeron. Not only have I peered into the woman's soul but, also, there have come to me other reports from people in the know. Their suspicions, I think, confirm that there are traitors aboard Shikkeron with direct connections to Asotos or his people."

Ardon's surprise was evidenced by the way his fingers gripped the chair arms. "Why has nothing been done then, at least to weed the traitors out of the crew? The potential for disaster should move you to do something!"

Euroaquilo smiled and motioned for Ardon to relax. "Proof...proof is still lacking. If we move too fast, we risk hurting the innocent with the guilty. That is something I choose not to do. This is not the first time the enemy has infiltrated our ranks, nor shall it be the last. I have isolated Shikkeron from fleet-sensitive communications and I have my own people watching. Besides, have you not been told that it is wise to keep your enemies close? Space is needed to wield the blade. Don't give them the space."

"But what of Darla and her demon?" Ardon asked. "How safe is it for her to be placed in such an environment?" The tone in his voice betrayed a sincere concern for his former antagonist.

Euroaquilo leaned forward. "She has you to protect her, doesn't she? Or do you choose to retreat from such danger?"

Ardon felt a twinge of anger pass over him. Why? Had he reacted to Euroaquilo's query because he thought his loyalty or bravery was being questioned? No. It was because he personally could not imagine abandoning Darla to danger, the mere thought of it rankling him. "My dear Euroaquilo, I think not of myself in this matter at all. It is the welfare of my captain that I am concerned with. To allow needless danger to come upon her is troubling to my heart. Why must such a thing be permitted?"

"There is no doubt in my mind about that Ardon." Euroaquilo reassured. "If that were the case, I would personally request your removal from her company. I do believe you have feelings growing for the girl, and that is what reassures me of your faithfulness to her. As for why I leave my child with dangerous wolves, I cannot explain in words what sits in my mind and heart, but I feel as though her destiny... No, the destiny of all living things rides the skies with that ship. It's like a little voice inside my head tells me to let matters be. The stage has been set and the Director is gathering the players. What shall be our roles is yet unknown to me, but I do feel as though you and I will have some major part in it."

Euroaquilo smiled grimly, "I will trust you with this. I'm not abandoning my child to the Fates. The power of my fleet will always be within arm's reach of her, wherever she may be. You are in my trust on this and I will fill you in with more detail before Shikkeron leaves for its next mission. It has been four days since you arrived. Tomorrow the council will meet to discuss MoonDust and decide on the evidence Darla's team will present. I will have a clearer idea of what to do then."

Ardon thanked Euroaquilo for his patience and prepared to bid his adieu.

Euroaquilo interrupted him, asking, "Will you continue to assist her with her dreams? Darla, I mean. She needs a person who understands her dilemma and can trust to be close to her."

Ardon smiled, a strange flutter of emotion racing through his heart. "I will not force myself upon her, but I will allow no harm to come to the woman. I do care for her, you know."

"I know. I know." Euroaquilo extended his hand and, with a strong grip, clasped Ardon's. A strange look came across his face. After a pause, he added, "Take care of my child. She has many things yet to learn. You must teach her well."

Ardon was surprised by Euroaquilo's admonition. He waited for explanation, but none came. He thanked the admiral for his time and departed his cabin. Everything seemed so strange. Mystery shrouded in mystery, riddle within riddle. What was happening, anyway? He walked down the passageway headed for the shuttle that would take him back to Admiral Lonche.

* * *

"She's slowed down, boys! Now to the boats and let's at her! She's fat and ripe! We eat good off her tonight!" The commander made a smacking sound with his lips as he ordered his men to the scullers, looking into the monitor at the luscious prize in his sites, the third since MoonDust. It was almost four times the size of his lugger, with a round and bulbous hull that reminded him of a ripe melon. He chuckled at the thought of a big watermelon, and him with the knife to open its rich belly.

In moments, the largest of the scullers was away and pressing with speed toward its hapless victim some three or four furlongs away. The commander was on the bridge, preparing to board the last sculler out when the navigator reported, "It's going larboard! It's turnin' broadside!"

The commander ran to the forward observation window, reaching it just in time to see a tiny, blinding light flash from the hull of the opposing ship. Instantly, the lead sculler vaporized in a searing ball of flame, showering the other scullers with white-hot pieces of shrapnel no larger than marbles.

In a flurry, the other scullers broke off their advance, scrambling to return to the home ship. The navigator, who had been watching through the monitor, having a close-up view of the other ship, started shouting, "They got a rail gun! It's a goddamned rail gun!"

"Full back, boys! Give her full back, I say!" the commander screamed at the pilot. "Lock her down and close the ports! Back full, you slime! Get us away and fast!"

The aged Stasis ship groaned under the labor pressed upon it. Those in the scullers were putting on speed to return to the now retreating ship. One can only imagine their dismay when they saw the portals close as the lugger started going faster. But it was to no avail.

In seconds, another tiny flash came from the opposing ship, this time farther astern. A shudder ran down the length of the pirates' vessel. Lights flickered and went out. Steerage systems failed as doors blew off control panels. The commander raced to starboard and peered out the window. Looking back along his ship, he saw a huge tangle of metal and a gaping hole where the main engine battery once was.

"Steerage is gone!" the pilot cried. "The hull's breached to the stern and we lost communication with the larboard engine crew."

The ship was now a dead fish, adrift in a black, cosmic ocean. The hunter was now the hunted. They were paralyzed, helpless, and not even able to bring any weapons to bear on their enemy. The commander watched to see the other ship slowly turn and head straight for them. It should take a few minutes to re-energize their rail guns and draw up across from them and fire another salvo. He turned and ran from the bridge, racing aft toward the ship's boarding deck where the remaining sculler sat waiting for him.

"Abandon ship!" he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared down the ladder and through the bulkhead door, slamming it behind him. With any luck, he'd be away before the enemy could fire another shot.

The crew on the bridge had no time to ponder the commander's abandoning them. Another flash of light came from the approaching ship, this time from its nose. The shock of surprise at never having seen a rail gun affixed facing forward in any ship had only begun to show on their faces when the destructive force hit. They felt their vessel shudder when the iron and lead-lined mendelevium projectile started disintegrating from the impact on the forward hull two decks below the bridge. They watched in awe and horror as it went on its destructive rampage through the bowels of the ship.

Although a radioactive blaze was created when the lead and iron of the bullet's outer casing ruptured, incinerating anyone in forward decks below, its speed was so fast that the major explosive power didn't ignite until the pellet had passed better than halfway the vessel's length, unleashing its full might just beneath the boarding deck. With a rush of excited energy, the back third of the Stasis Pirate's vessel was engulfed in a series of violent explosions, first from the bullet, as the temperature activated the mendelevium's critical mass, then as fuel cells and munitions went up in a roar and fury. The aft section disappeared in a ball of fire, scattering its remains in every direction.

Nearly breathless from his running escape, the commander was but two paces away and reaching for the opened door of the sculler when the consuming inferno enveloped him. In an instant, he and the others in the shuttle were dissolved into nothing. Whatever else remained of the shattered sculler was blown through the disintegrating hull into space. In less than a heartbeat, one small projectile no larger than a child's fist had extinguished all life on board the pirate vessel, save the crew on the command bridge.

In the now lightless, soon-to-be tomb, the hapless crew watched as the huge enemy ship opened its lower bays and half a dozen small fighters dropped into view. In only minutes, the remaining scullers were disabled or destroyed.

For over an hour, anxious eyes peered out at the surrounding activity through windows that were slowly icing up. Life support systems were down and the cabin temperature was rapidly dropping. When the remaining crew saw salvage craft exit the opposing ship, their hopes momentarily rose. Soon, though, they realized that no one was attempting a rescue. In fact, nobody bothered to check to see if anyone was still alive aboard the lugger.

There would be no rescue today or any other day unless they secured their own. That was impossible. There was no escape. The rear bulkhead door now opened into space, as did the forward hatch. There was still another deck above the bridge, but the pressure gage on the hatch indicated a hull breach in that chamber. As the dirty, chill air fell to near freezing, so went the spirits of the crewmembers trapped within. Cries of dismay coupled with curses and oaths echoed off its walls. These very same people who had callously snuffed out the lives of many helpless men and women while laughing at their pleadings for mercy were unable to accept their own deserved demise.

Shouts of anger and despair coupled with sounds of sobbing and whimpering could be heard in the headsets of those listening on the other ship. "So go the souls of brave warriors," replied one disgusted operator, as he pulled off his listening device and turned off the receiver.

Although parts of the Stasis Pirate vessel had drifted far into space, much of it was still retrievable. Some salvage craft gathered the larger debris, while others probed through the wreckage. The disabled scullers were emptied of their lifeless cargos and hauled through huge doors aft the opposing ship, while parts and pieces of the lugger which were of interest found a home in its forward hold. The remainder of the flotsam and jetsam was gathered together near the still intact forward part of the pirate ship. When the work was finished, fighters and salvage craft all returned to their mother ship.

From the freezing command bridge, all eyes were trained on the huge vessel that only a little while ago reminded them of a luscious melon. It turned away and slowly drifted into the distance, those eyes continuing to watch until it was little more than a glittering speck, looking like a twinkling star. And then they watched no more.

When sufficiently away, another captain, on his own command bridge, gave an order to an attending officer. She peered out the porthole at the distant pirate ship. The attending officer and other observers on the bridge saw a blinding white light flash across the captain's face as she squinted. In seconds, the white light faded to gold, then to red, and finally disappeared altogether. Admiral Zabinea Tizkertinah faced her helmsman, smiling garishly, "Better is the day when we leave our work to the bitter grimness. An empty web disturbs not the sleeping spider..."

* * *

Sirion eased her palm over the left control sphere as the TKR-17C, better known as the '17', gently glided down and to its left, just skimming the surface of the crater-pocked asteroid. She wasted little visual effort examining the panoramic surroundings, concentrating instead on the computer-generated hologram visuals inside the cockpit. Besides, at the fighter's cruising speed of five nautical miles per second, the barren landscape was little more than a blur. On she flew, searching for bogeys in the hologram.

A half-minute later, Sirion gave up the search. Slowly rolling her palms back, the ship departed the little planet and she set her sights on another some distance away. Her ship rose high in a wide, sweeping arc in order to line itself up for a direct approach on its new target. Half way through the turn, the hologram lit up with two bright, orange-red dots and an audio alarm sounded to warn the pilot of intruders. The massive nickel-iron core of the asteroid must have hindered the onboard radar from detecting the enemy. Now Sirion found herself with two bogeymen in hot pursuit and rapidly closing.

Snapping her hands back across the spherical controls made the fighter jerk hard to the right, then straight up in a tight, ninety-degree radius. Sirion was now cutting across the paths of her interceptors, causing her to fly perpendicular to their trajectory. They instantly changed course, leading her flight angle in an attempt to overtake her.

Even with its anti G-force machinery and super-tough polymer composite structure, the 17 could not be contorted into tight maneuvers at such speeds without risking damage. Yellow danger lights flashed warnings. Sirion had nearly pushed the ship past it limits. She would need to slow down to correct her last over-reaction at the controls, but speed was currently her friend. First though, the 17 had to be turned away from the enemy.

Concentrating on the planned maneuver, Sirion tried to relax her racing heart. She needed to be calm for this next trick. First, she would have to 'spike the brakes' so to speak, whip the fighter around in a sharp one-eighty then, when the turn was complete, roll the engines to full throttle and try for escape. If she didn't do things just right, if the turn wasn't completed before firing the engines full, the hull might rupture under the G-forces, or the gravity machine might fail, crushing her.

There was no time to review her plan. Sirion slid her hands across the controls. In her excitement, she shoved them too hard, kicking in the reverse thrusters but still leaving the main engines engaged. The ship's nose pitched downward, throwing the 17 into a forward-gyrating spin. Sirion was thrown back, her hands flying from the controls with such force that one smashed her in the face. Blood began gushing from the woman's nostrils as the ship started to violently tumble through space.

Sirion let out a scream of helplessness as the machine went wild. With the reverse thrusters and engines all alight, it could only be a matter of seconds before the ship would disintegrate. Frantically, the woman struggled to regain control. With one hand, she finally managed to shut off a thruster. Instantly, the fighter started to gyrate to the left as it tumbled. Now it was shaking so badly, Sirion could no longer read the lighted panel, and the hologram was spinning round and round.

With a sudden _ka-boom!_ the starboard engine blew out. Sirion could see pieces of the hull and skin breaking away. Another explosion...this time the port engine ripped itself apart. When it went, a large chunk tore away part of the wing, cracking the reinforced cabin wall. Sirion could hear gasses escaping from the cabin. The spiraling tumble of the ship was so violent the woman wasn't able to lock her face shield secure to its helmet.

With the engines gone and life support systems fading, the hapless pilot realized she was doomed. As the G-force and gravity control units slowly failed, Sirion could feel the crazy bending and twisting of the broken craft. Suddenly, a growing queasiness in her stomach erupted into a full-fledged, uncontrolled puking bout, covering the interior of cockpit from window to floor with a stinking mess of that morning's half-digested meal.

Sirion was only semi-conscious when she looked out through the canopy to see the asteroid she had skimmed across only moments before loom large in front of her. At least it would be quick. She wouldn't be in misery for long. Closer and closer they came, like a bullet on a path to its target. Then, everything went black.

The nauseous gyrating stopped and the hissing of lost air decreased and quieted. A voice from a speaker broke the silence. "You're dead!"

Sirion confirmed the message, slumping her head in dismay. This was the third time today she had died in the simulator, and this experience was by far the worst. Gratefully, she allowed the attendants to assist her out of the machine. They nearly had to drag her out. Someone brought a flat cart and the others rested her on it. "Come on, Patch, let us give you hand." Off she went to sickbay.

As they hurried away, Sirion looked up to see Gabrielle watching her leave. The girl knew she was being tested today. They had told her that the physical nerve damage caused during her recent captivity was still insufficiently healed to even try to fly the 17, Gabrielle fearing that a one-eyed pilot might never succeed. As Sirion looked back at the admiral, a tear ran down her cheek. She knew the sad truth. There would be no front-line service for her for some time, maybe never. An old TKR-14 scout was to be her lot, if she was lucky. If not, then she'd pilot some patched up ancient T-4 drone chaser, or worse, transporter. Sirion bowed her head and began to cry.

* * *

It had been a busy past few days for Darla and her forensic team, preparing for the presentation of the evidence and conclusions drawn from the investigation. She was satisfied with the thought that their evidence was both conclusive and accurate. But such knowledge somehow didn't relieve a nagging ache in the pit of her stomach.

The fleet wardroom aboard the carrier, Admiral Lonche, was filled with some of the most influential officers in the Empire. It wasn't that Darla had not been in such company before, but never had she been the intended center of attention. Looking around the conference table, the woman observed officers from every branch of the military service. The major felt overwhelmed when she thought of the weight everyone was placing on her findings. Conclusions drawn by her team were to affect the future strategy of the entire kingdom.

Darla's immediate superior, Colonel ArkeoTeleio **,** sat against the far wall, silently scanning others in the room. He had acquired this name after displaying his unwavering resolve during these many long wars. It's meaning, 'One who has strength to bring matters to a finish', was bestowed upon him after the battle of Mordem the Castle, when his half-starved regiment stalled the enemy in the Tannim Forest. Then, when a counter-offensive was ordered, they drove their antagonists back across the frozen Lupeo River and out of the Eastern Fortress at Mordem. How well Darla remembered the following days after the regiment retook those fortifications.

Colonel Arkeo was not an easy man to serve under. He was often oppressively demanding of his subordinates and his troops were repeatedly pushed to the limits of their endurance. Darla doubted that few other commanders would have, or could have held the heights of Castle Manor, a series of fortified hills overlooking the once beautiful, park-like fields just east of the city Mordem, back when it still carried the lilting name, 'Mordeniah', meaning 'city of the aster blossom'. He and his troops successfully held those hills for eight days against four times their number and he lost two thirds of his regiment in doing so. But the sacrifice had been worth it. Stargaton remained firmly in their hands and, along with that, control of the Hindly Page jump portal.

The colonel made Darla nervous, but in some refreshing sort of way. She knew how he watched his junior officers with a critical eye. If someone needed readjusting, he was quick to make the point and not always in a subtle way. He was also slow to give commendation. So, when he did acknowledge a person's efforts or achievements, it was a treasured thing. Upon hearing of Darla's commission to rank of major, he requested she be assigned to him. He had not forgotten the woman's outstanding valor displayed at Mordem when she was a lieutenant, and he believed her experiences since then had only toughened her more.

Today he would judge the value of his wisdom and see if his choice had been correct. For weeks, the major had directed hundreds of troopers spread throughout the region. Not only that, she had led a forensic team on an investigation of the MoonDust incident. How well or poorly she had performed, he was already aware of. Now for the last of it, the presentation... When finished, Darla was sure he would approach her to express his opinion. In some strange way, she preferred matters to be handled like that. She always knew just where she stood with the colonel, and that was pleasantly satisfying.

Across the table from Darla sat Commodore General Planetee, the supreme Marine commander. She had been in close enough vicinity to make a personal appearance at this strategic gathering. Gabrielle, admiral of the Fleet; Sarah, centurion general and commander of Special Forces; Trisha of Qā·Shaib·Jal, field marshal and commander of the Army; and Michael, also addressed as MihaiAstron, king and ruling steward over all the realms above and below, had all been at too great a distance to be there in person. Standing in for them were officers and representatives who were trusted to attend in their stead. ZabineaTizkertinah, one of the three admirals over the Crimson Fleet, did manage to make the meeting. She and her immediate lieutenant would speak for the other Tarezabarians not assembled at this war council.

Observing all the great and powerful people gathered together in this room because of what they thought her team had discovered troubled Darla greatly. What if she was in error with her conclusions? These people trusted her to give them accurate information that would help them decide the future course of war. If she was wrong, it could cost them the Empire or, even at best, many needless deaths. The smell of her own nervous sweat filled her nostrils and only increased an aching fear of uncertainty growing in her breast. Still, she managed to suppress those trepidations behind a calm, almost tranquil appearance. Only Euroaquilo could sense Darla's real feelings. He smiled reassuringly when catching her glance.

Ambassador Tizrela, Trisha's leading staff officer and archon-in-standing for Mihai the king, opened proceedings for the Council of Inquiry. She stood and approached the front of the room. With calm and deliberate speech, she commenced, "Reports come to us that the enemy is spreading himself across our borders like clouds of dust on a building storm. As of yet, we have been unable to locate the power behind that blinding cloud and have been at a loss as to where his real strength lies. So we have waited, waited for some sign, clue, some little scrap of evidence indicating his intentions."

Tizrela began to pace the floor while gesturing with both hands. "Deception is a tool often used to fool one's enemy. It can be a most effective weapon if wielded with skill and cunning. But one cannot afford to be the least bit careless when using it for, if a person is, more may be revealed about one's intentions than should that person have remained silent altogether. We feel the foe has done such a thing. Our trusted Admiral Euroaquilo has informed me the missing piece of our puzzle may have been found. If so, then we must be prepared to shift our strategic plans to bolster ourselves against the enemy's potential onslaught."

She bent forward, placing her hands flat on the table. "Some of those reasons are the basis for this meeting." The ambassador proceeded to speak at length concerning other stolen secrets regarding the enemy's purposes.

Darla sat in silent amazement at hearing the depth of information her people had already gleaned through forays by the Crimson Fleet and Special Forces hunter-seeker packs as well as the infant spy organization recently set up by Centurion General Sarah. For nearly an hour, Tizrela continued on with one bit after another of the gathered intelligence. The essence of her information was summed up thusly: right after the prisoner exchange, Asotos began to remove his major carrier groups from their home bases to secret locations. He had done a call-up of conscripted off-duty forces and put a freeze on all military leaves. The manufacturing of non-essential goods and materials was prohibited, replaced by military production of supplies and weapons. Laws were imposed requiring all greetings to include some special, praiseworthy slogan mentioning their dictator. And most noteworthy, the enemy's four western and southern colonies, SanteTrapresiah, HagiotesAdelphos, PolisAnabaino, and Palaios were experiencing a vast construction boom, indicating possible troop build-up.

When Tizrela finished, she introduced Darla. "All that I have revealed to you has little impact on our strategy because we still remain in the dark as to what our adversary's current intention really is. Major Darla and her forensic team have exhausted themselves searching for the needed clue as to what the enemy may be doing. If their information, as I have heard told, is accurate, they may have discovered it. She will now offer her findings to you. Please save any questions until her presentation is finished." Tizrela returned to her seat.

Darla was not prepared to be handed control of the meeting. She expected to be asked some questions at her seat while Tizrela or another high-ranking officer would conduct the proceedings. It took her several moments to gain the needed composure, stand, and walk to the front of the room. Everyone remained quiet and attentive as they patiently waited to hear her speak.

After a long silence in order to collect her thoughts, Darla began, "I am aware that few of you have been informed as to our findings regarding the MoonDust debacle. In fact, I doubt many of you even know what MoonDust is. It was feared that any communique mentioning the collier might alert our enemy to the importance placed on our findings. Allow me to now fill you in on the details."

Darla went on to explain what MoonDust was, where its travels took it, and a general overview of its demise. She then went on to list the passengers and crew. An occasional sigh would go up from someone in the room when they heard the name of an old friend or lover. Relationships were deep and many in a universe where some inhabitants had lived for so long a time.

The location of the attack was clearly identified by the ship's logs, time of departure from TilgathPilneser, hour of the distress call, where it originated from, and the approximate time of death of those aboard. The way in which the major offered her information evidenced the exhaustive effort as well as countless days and weeks Darla and her team had invested in the task. None in the room doubted that she had put any less energy into the more critical findings that were yet to be divulged. With restrained eagerness, they waited to hear more.

Before going further, Darla stated, "It is believed that the Stasis Pirates did not carry out this vile act alone. First, there is no reason to conclude they wanted the fuel rods. They have no known use for them and they do know how deadly the rods can be if handled improperly. Second, there is great risk in attempting to board an opposing ship in deep space. The Stasis have watched colliers for many centuries and they usually leave them alone because they know what little value is contained within. At most, such ships have been threatened, and surrendering a token cargo of food or other basic materials as booty has always pacified these pirates."

Darla raised and extended her arm, shaking her finger to add emphasis. "Another very important point that is not missed by those of us familiar with the habits of the Stasis is this. Left to themselves, these people will be hard-pressed to abandon any of their dead on the field."

This created some stir among those gathered. Many were ill-informed concerning these pirates of the Trizentine because they had never played a major role in the wars of the Rebellion. On the other hand, there was little Darla didn't know about these miscreants. Over the centuries, she had often made herself an unwanted guest in their camps. Her wildly painted face, hair filled with smoldering wicks, pitch-black garments, and an insect-like, guttural sound coming from her throat filled her enemy's hearts with unbridled terror. There was rarely much of a fight because of the instant confusion that would erupt as the screaming, panicked survivors fled into the darkness.

Yes, Darla had studied these superstitious people well. During the passing years since the Rebellion, they had created a pantheon of gods and demons that ruled over and controlled their lives. It was them who invented the Therioskotia, the demon god that walked the battlefields of the slain, drinking the blood of the fallen. She had capitalized on such foolishness in her personal war to bring vengeance upon them for the murder of her close friends centuries ago. Her passionate hatred for the Stasis had not yet diminished.

"Let me explain," Darla offered. "The rebellious actions and subsequent violence meted out by these people gives strong evidence that most, if not all, have disjoined themselves from the Fabric of the Mind. It is said that when the person's mind is separated from that web, a certainty of future death rests itself upon his or her heart. Whether it be the case or not, these people have developed an unnatural fear of death. Along with that fear there have risen stories and myths disclaiming the Web and suggesting other forms of eternal life."

Darla allowed herself time to go into some detail over this matter. "These people have invented a strange and surreal universe filled with monsters, demons, gods and sorcerers. Upon death, the Stasis believe the inner body, the Mukkah, starts on a journey to regain the flesh. If successful, the Mukkah will attain it in the after-dreams, a time when all things in the universe will come together again. If it fails, then the Mukkah falls into the pit of distress, where it languishes in an eternal darkness filled with the gloom of empty hope.

"Now these same people believe that if a fellow Stasis should die in their presence, and those observing or knowing of the death should abandon the dead body, not attending to the proper ceremony by releasing the Mukkah and giving it guidance at the start of its journey, the Mukkah might become lost and wander hopelessly in the land of the living. When the Mukkah realizes it cannot find the path leading to new life, it will seek the death of former companions so that it can follow one of their Mukkahs to the hidden road.

"One of the dead on MoonDust was a Stasis Pirate. He was evidently killed by an impact laser, a weapon often carried by officers in the Pseudes' army. We could find no reason for the man's killing. There was no indication of a struggle aboard MoonDust at any time. Although we found the man's fingerprints on the sealed door to the containment room, the lock was not disturbed. It appeared to us to be more of an execution-style murder. I have never seen or heard of a Stasis performing such an act on another Stasis for fear that the victim's Mukkah might seek revenge.

"I should also tell you that this is not the first dead Stasis we have discovered. In half a dozen different villages, bodies of murdered pirates were found. Many died by being shot in the back by weapons rarely used by the Stasis, but commonly at the disposal of Pseudes soldiers. No Stasis would willingly leave behind a fellow Stasis unless his fears were salved with an offer of a protective talisman and/or a rich enough reward was given to satisfy his greed. These discoveries were the first concrete evidence that some kind of a confederacy is being created between the Stasis and the Pseudes."

Darla paused to give her listeners time to digest the information then added to the evidence. "Allow me, please, to segue from MoonDust for a moment. The style of clothing and body markings reveal that at least four known tribes of Stasis are involved in these raids on the Trizentine colonies. What is more upsetting is the fact that, at one destroyed outpost, pirates from two opposing tribes were found. Old tattoo marks on their faces proved that. Both were simultaneously killed, hit with powerful energy blasts directly beneath the skulls, blood and brains saturating the other's clothes while still standing.

"It was also apparent that both men were cooperatively working together at the time of death. Skid marks in the dirt showed them to be in process of dragging some heavy object, absent at the time of their discovery. Continued skid marks indicated that the object was dragged away by at least three people fitted with the same mass-produced footwear, something Stasis generally have a disdain for."

This final comment caught the attention of everyone. It was common knowledge among most of Lowenah's children that the Stasis cared little for manufactured goods, preferring to make their personal garb. Even weapons and ships - things often acquired through theft, or sometimes barter - would be decorated to suit the new owner. A stolen pair of manufactured shoes might be found on one pirate, but three? Never had such a thing been seen or heard of. This was the most chilling evidence yet presented that some kind of union was being forged between Asotos and the Stasis.

"Now let us return to MoonDust." Darla lifted her hand. "Other discoveries we found on the collier prompted us to make further investigation of the ship and contents. When static dust tests were done, we did find footprints that appeared similar to what was obtained at the outpost - not exact, mind you, but similar."

Darla then went on to reveal findings from autopsies done on the bodies aboard MoonDust. It was dismaying for many to think of friends and lovers being cut up and dissected. They marveled at people like Darla and the members of her forensic team. Such teams were very rare. So few were willing to perform voluntary acts of necessary mutilation on former loved ones and companions. It was easier for Darla and some of the younger team members because most of Lowenah's children were still strangers to them. Yet, the thought of further desecration of something considered so holy was mentally and emotionally difficult.

A projector hummed to life and a white screen materialized on the front wall. For the next twenty minutes the room was filled with the sights of horrors found in the belly of MoonDust. Even though Darla presented the pictorial evidence in black and white, there were many a queasy stomach in the group and few of these observers were found at the evening's dining tables.

The major finally got to the primary reason why this meeting had been called. "As you have seen, all the women were viciously and repeatedly raped, tortured and mutilated, most of this done while they were still alive. The men, on the other hand, appear to have been shown less interest, receiving fewer torture marks and none missing body parts or being raped except for one."

While Darla continued on, the screen flashed several pictures. "The captain of MoonDust was raped, or that is assumed to be the case. Also, as you may have observed, his scrotum and the remaining skin from his genitals was removed, and with near surgical precision. We discovered this to have been done after the captain was dead. There was no other physical trauma found on his body other than a narrow wound at the base of his skull, made by a sharp instrument. This wound to the back of the head killed the captain instantly.

"We found the condition of the captain to be unusual. You see, men's joining themselves together in such a way is taboo among most of the Stasis. Although hated by these people, Lowenah is still viewed as the evil Supreme Mother Goddess **,** with greater powers than most of the other gods and demons. They are in morbid fear of her and continually offer animal sacrifices and the occasional person to stem her vengeance. They have heard stories of what happened to Asotos when he openly humiliated her by connecting himself to another man at that council so long ago. So, should any of the men do such a thing, it would be carried out in secret, far away from Lowenah's Ever-Eye that is always searching to bring injury upon those openly disrespecting her."

Darla shut off the projector before continuing. "Although we did harmonic blood and DNA testing as well as chemical analysis on all foreign fluids in the victims' bodies, we concentrated our limited time and resources on the captain. Our findings had a ninety-nine plus percent accuracy rating, but we could not be absolute in our conclusion. By using a harmonics replicating machine, we reproduced a facsimile of the harmonic blueprint a woman could compare with those from her dream shares. We were able to find four trusted female officers to test with this blueprint. Three found a similar match in their dream share memories. One felt she was certain who the person was, but the others remained unsure. Darla knew without question who the person was, remaining silent, hiding memories too painful to recall.

"To settle matters, our team shipped samples and machinery aboard a swift packet boat with orders to deliver the materials to the admiral of the fleet. We believed that Gabrielle would be able to give us conclusive proof whether our findings were accurate or not. Sadly, some mishap on the packet caused an accident, and everything in the cargo hold was destroyed or contaminated by a small but intense hydrogen blaze. This left only the tiny valise containing the remaining samples that were still with us. As soon as Shikkeron arrived here, work was started on making new harmonic replications and sending them on to the admiral. We are still awaiting her report."

Darla paused. She studied the faces of those sitting at the table. There were looks of concern and sadness on many, but there was also an eagerness showing on most to hear the remainder of her report. She sighed anxiously, "So, with the knowledge of some margin for error still existing, I will tell you what we believe has been discovered. All the evidence points to this fact...not only were Asotos' people involved in the capture of MoonDust and possibly the torture and murder of the passengers and crew, the man who violated the captain was none other than AsreHalom, who, after the Rebellion took for himself the name 'SalakTaqadam'."

The room went dead silent. Many knew this Salak, or it should be said, knew of him. The man once known as 'AsreHalom', meaning 'blessed dreams' had been a very mild and tender person before the Rebellion. He eventually joined forces with Asotos' henchmen some time after Mihai's attempted murder, finally falling in with Godenn, his former mentor and close associate. His cunning and needless violence gained him the name given by his contemporaries...'SalakTaqadam' meaning 'cast down into the blood by heavy blows'. He was mercilessly vicious in the extreme.

It was also known that Salak was rarely far from his mentor's side. If there was some special duty Godenn was to attend to, he might send his chief lieutenant ahead to prepare things for him. If Salak was in the vicinity, it meant Godenn was not far behind. And that was what troubled the gathered company most. Legion would not send his top-ranking general off gallivanting so far from Memphis unless Asotos had requested it, especially with war looming. And Godenn would not take many risks. He could be counted on to surround himself with a naval fleet of measurable size.

Darla felt awkward. She had finished her presentation and wanted to dismiss herself and return to her chair, but now the room was filling with the rustlings of hushed comments and discussion. At the moment, no one was paying any attention to the purveyor of the news that was causing such a stir. She uncomfortably clasped her hands and stood there, shoulders slightly stooped, wondering what to do. For several minutes she went on being ignored while the air filled with comments and counter comments.

Finally, Ambassador Tizrela stood. Looking directly at Darla, she asked, "Can you provide us with the harmonic samples so we may test them ourselves?"

The major's face clouded as she apologized, "The harmonics machine the forensic team first used had been sent aboard the packet and was destroyed in the blaze. There were no materials to build another one while on Shikkeron. We did manage to cobble one together after reaching the fleet, but it was very primitive and required the entire remaining sample just to get a reading. Harmonic machines are nearly nonexistent and are very complex. When finished, I hurried it as well as the technicians who built it, off to the admiral of the fleet, feeling she would have the greatest ability to offer correct testimony."

Tizrela was openly disappointed. She slumped forward, head drooped, hands on the table. After a moment, she lifted her gaze to Darla. "Do not hold yourself to account for my unhappiness. No one informed you as to who would be here. Besides, sending the information ahead to the admiral of the fleet was undoubtedly the wisest course to take. You have provided us more insight into the enemy's intentions than any of us had bargained for and we need some time to digest it. Would you be kind enough to leave your team's forensic report with us to review if necessary?"

Darla smiled her willingness to do as Tizrela requested, but her eyes reflected deep sadness. "I am sorry I've disappointed..." Once again she felt she had failed.

The ambassador instantly picked up on the major's inner emotions, reassuring her, "My child, I see that you count yourself as of little worth among such people as share this room. Do let me tell you just how wrong you are! You think your life has been lived in hidden shadows and that your deeds and valor have gone unnoticed by others? I shall inform you just how mistaken you are. Few...I say few others have given so much for any cause. I am the one honored by your presence with us today. Major, I bow in your company."

Darla stared in disbelief as her jaw dropped open in surprise. She was dumbfounded. Before she could respond, another person chimed in. "Aye, too long have we remained silent about our little sister. She is a light of hope and bastion of power, truly a jewel given us by Lowenah." Planetee stood, then bowed her head toward her little sister.

At that, the entire company rose and showed honor to Darla. On that day she acquired a new name, 'Adaya', 'God's Jewel'.

(Author's note: _For many of the children of these later ages, the name 'Darla' has no meaning. But, when Queen Adaya walks in their midst, the people stand in silent awe or break out in song. 'Adaya, the Gifted Jewel That Shines Forever' is well known by all.)_

Tizrela then spoke for all present. "You honor us in many ways. None could have done a more thorough investigation of the MoonDust incident than you. Indeed, I know few of even the stoutest warriors who would have offered themselves willingly to carry out such a difficult task. Yet you deserve our honor even more for the powerful example you have set in your love and devotion to our mother. You have faced the Dragon and defeated him in mortal combat, something rarely accomplished. There exists no greater living example for us to follow regarding courage, determination, and unselfish love."

This was more than Darla was able to handle. With Tizrela's final words, the girl buried her face in her hands and wept. Someone provided a chair, offering for her to sit as others gathered around, staying close. The woman cried and cried, unable to stem her river of tears.

Gradually, Darla's sobs came to an end. At length, she regained her composure and thanked all those gathered for such kindness. The meeting eventually resumed for a short time. When no one had any more questions for the major, the council was adjourned. Later in the evening, the top leaders gathered again in Admiral Euroaquilo's wardroom aboard Oruomai for further discussions.

Admiral ZabineaTizkertinah, better known among her close companions as 'Tizkerina **'** , meaning 'flower of the morning', sat at the table listening to the discussion, her head cocked and eyes closed in concentration. Picking up on the new and strange dialect of Lowenah's younger children had been difficult for her. In the short time since the Crimson Fleet's return she had managed well enough to become adept at one-on-one conversations with others. But when faced with several different voices and styles of speech, she struggled to clearly understand matters.

Tizkerina was a quiet woman with petite features and a gentle disposition. After countless months aboard ship on the return trip, her skin had returned to its more natural color of light sandstone red, but the burnt-brick hues of her auburn-colored curls still rippled as she turned her head in the light. She was costumed in similar dress to that of TaqaEsem, wearing only laced sandals, an open cape, and a purse-like bag over one shoulder. The admiral carried no weapon other than a short, rosewood-handled derker blade strapped in a sheath on the side of her left calf. She also had a recently acquired crested morion for headgear. At Lowenah's earlier council meeting Jebbson had commented to Finhardt \- one of the few people in his company who would understand the comparison - that the woman looked more like a sun-burnt Spaniard, albeit a very attractive one who forgot her clothes.

Tizkerina was the youngest of all the Tarezabarians. She was but twenty years of age when the people left for the stars, just being released from her years of gifting to the man now called 'Asotos'. It was said that she had become infatuated with one of the sojourners and chose to journey with him, fearing she would pine away from love lost. Soon after leaving, the girl became homesick for her mother and Chrusion, but it was too late. There could be no turning back. Eventually, Tizkerina settled into her new life and became quite a favorite among her large circle of friends. Her great trustworthiness, deep concern for the welfare of others, and keen mental abilities were reasons she acquired the position of admiral.

Euroaquilo and the others continued on debating what to do. Tizrela opined to give things a little more time. Planetee disagreed, arguing the Trizentine's boundary with the Frontier was too vast for patience. "A dozen fleets could be hiding just past those borders and we would never know. If Godenn is there, then he will have at his disposal at least one fleet, nothing less."

Of the eight decision-makers in the room, four thought prudence in waiting for Gabrielle's report was reasonable. The remainder fell in line with Planetee. Finally Euroaquilo, the one to offer the tiebreaker vote if needed, added his insight to the situation. "I have every reason to believe that Godenn is already or will soon be in the Trizentine..."

Tizrela quickly interrupted, "Of what blessed value is that wild place? Few have chosen to live there because it offers so little. There are no uncommon resources to be found there. Its chief planet is among the coldest of the inhabited ones, being so far from its sun. What reason would Godenn have for wasting his time there?"

Euroaquilo calmly replied, "The most precious of all possessions lies within that territory. Asotos would send his entire army there if he believed that was the way to gain success. No, my dear Ambassador General, Godenn is there all right, doing just what he was ordered to do."

"What?" Tizrela asked, puzzled. "What is so precious to Asotos that he would risk his future success on such a miserable place?"

Euroaquilo folded his hands under his chin and leaned back in the chair. With a wry smile, he quietly replied, "Darla..."

Tizrela was stunned, pondering in her mind, 'Why Darla? Was Asotos so obsessed with this woman as to have Legion send his chief lieutenant such a great distance from home to capture one person?'

Euroaquilo answered her question before she asked it. "Do you not recall the prophecy uttered against Legion by Mother on the day of Ishtar's death in the arena?"

Tizrela thought about it, but couldn't remember. Euroaquilo went on to briefly describe events of that day. "Legion called Darla a 'tramp' for interfering with his plans. In her anger, Mother told Legion that when his master requested the tramp to be his consort, Legion would suffer lost sleep and restless nights until his death. I believe after the prisoner exchange Asotos made that request. I also am of the opinion that Legion will use whatever power is at his disposal to capture or kill Darla in an attempt to remove the curse and prove Lowenah wrong."

Tizkerina's ebony eyes popped open at news of this ancient prophecy. She rose to speak. "Please, this Darla person, who may she really be and what of words spoken in distant days?" The tone of her voice indicated a determination to not allow her question to go unanswered.

Euroaquilo obliged her. For nearly an hour, he summed up the girl's life, telling of the demon residing within, the confrontation at the prisoner exchange, and what Zadar discovered with his blood share. Tizkerina came to feel the same as Euroaquilo about the matter. She then offered, "I will gather my command and make shadows for the child. Her danger is grave, much beyond any good reason. Why send her to such possible doom? Keep her safe."

"I cannot!" Euroaquilo frowned. "There is a force at work with the child - a destiny, so to speak - that demands her presence in the Trizentine. I am compelled to let her go. Indeed, I find myself being drawn in after her. There is a fate that awaits us there - a fate, I fear, that if it is interfered with, might destroy us all."

Tizkerina nodded in acknowledgement and sat. The room remained silent until Tizrela spoke up. "So, Admiral, what do you suggest we do?"

Euroaquilo rubbed his chin whiskers, finally suggesting, "You have a man who will be here in a few days. He's supposed to reconnoiter the Trizentine and other Frontier colonies to help speed up removal of valuable supplies to safer havens, correct?"

Tizrela confirmed.

The admiral rocked back in his chair. "Well, let me suggest we give the assignment to Shikkeron and have Major Darla escort our guest around. We can maintain a closer vigil on the girl because we would know what her planned destinations would be. With Admiral ZabineaTizkertinah shadowing Shikkeron, we shouldn't need to involve a major part of the fleet until we know the results of Gabrielle's report. In the meantime, I can take Oruomai along with some flankers and escorts and drift to the east, keeping Shikkeron within arm's reach."

This information sounded good to Tizrela, but then she asked, "What if Asotos intends on making major war in that area? How will we hold against him?"

Euroaquilo softly replied, "We will not. As you well know, we have no intention of attempting to hold the colonies there when war breaks out. We will make a feint at keeping them, but slash and burn will be our main activity when hostilities begin. At the same time, we cannot leave the skies empty of our presence in that place. If he is not resisted, our enemy will have an opened path from the Trizentine to the interior territories, and then a direct shot down the channel to the Northern Rim and the Kalahnit Straits. So you see, if Asotos has built up power beyond the Trizentine, we are forced to support the area."

Tizrela lowered her head. "I see..." With resigned disappointment, she stated, "So it comes to this: a place no one really wants may become a major battleground because a girl must remain there until the Fates are satisfied. Then, because Asotos will have gathered an imposing armada to this dismal hole, we will be forced to defend it for fear of losing the Straits. Our navy will fight to hold what we don't care about, thousands will die doing it and, in the end, it will have solved nothing...nothing at all...Day of Tears all over again."

"No, not quite," countered Euroaquilo. "In fact, this may be a blessing much in disguise. Think of it, Tizrela, every ship Asotos sends here is one less to confront us at MueoPoros when your commander orders the invasion. Godenn and his fleet will be weeks away from Memphis. Plus, if Shikkeron is attacked within the territories or the Trizentine, we will have our reason for war. Asotos will then be split as to what he should do... keep a large force in the east for little good reason, or protect his most precious territory, MueoPoros, and his southern colonies. It may work out to our advantage after all."

Tizrela shook her head. "It's a fool's folly..." She looked the admiral of the Third Fleet in the eye. "But I'll go along with your plan because it's the only one we have that may work." Then she shook her finger at him. "You just make sure you keep that girl of ours safe! If we lose her, there will be little reason to even fight this war. I'll recommend to the admiral of the fleet that you be given a free hand in deciding how to care for Darla's needs, and also how best to protect the Trizentine, that is, if the others here are in agreement."

So the decision was made. It was unanimous. Euroaquilo adjourned the meeting, thanking all for their patience and support. Tomorrow would decide the fate of worlds, but tonight sealed the fate of one person. Upon her shoulders rested the future of the universe. Upon her shoulders rested the hope of all life. She must be held safe if at all possible while at the same time being placed in the lion's den.

A demure figure sat at a stone table in a garden darkened by evening's shadows, the person's mind focused on happenings countless light years away, musing, 'The child will succeed. She must succeed.'

Lowenah had put the players on the board. She had initiated their movement by calling Legion out, and now she must allow the pieces to finish the game on their own. A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of the price soon to be paid for her child's release from the demon within.

In silence she had watched as people departed the wardroom. She could end this war before it started. No, her children must bring it to a finish. Loneliness swept over Lowenah, sending a chill across her shoulders. It was not good to be alone right now.

Just then, Lowenah heard a gentle footfall on the stone walkway and looked up to see Ishtar scurrying into the garden.

"Is it true? Is it really true?" the child excitedly asked. "A Cherub just told me that we leave tomorrow for home. Do I really get to go home?"

"A Cherub?" Lowenah questioned. "Hmmm...RosMismar," she called out.

"Yes, my Lord," came his heartfelt, earnest reply as this fiery sentinel entered the garden.

Lowenah looked at him for some time, finally commenting, "You do know how to break up a blue mood, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," RosMismar quietly replied, smiling, "will there be anything else tonight?"

Lowenah answered, "Thank you, no." The Cherub departed.

She turned her attention to the wildly ecstatic girl who continued to tease, "Are we going? Are we really going? Oh, please, are we? Are we?"

Lowenah laughed at the girl's antics, placing a hand on Ishtar's shoulder to calm her. "Yes, yes we are. I had planned it for another day, but certain fellows have other ideas. We shall leave tomorrow, but we will not arrive in a day so you must be patient."

Ishtar bounced up and down on her toes in anticipation.

Lowenah cautioned her, "Your world is much different than when you lived in it. I am not taking you there to find your past, which, if time permits, you may seek. We go to find something precious to me, as I hope one day it will also be to you."

Ishtar teased, but Lowenah would say no more. She took the girl by the arm and whispered in her ear, "I have made some mint-cherry wine. Would you like a glass before bed?"

Ishtar nodded her eager acceptance, grinning.

"Good! Good! Then I shall tell you a story about Zadar and the cooking pot. It will fill your head with delightful dreams."

The two walked arm in arm across the path into the dark chamber leading from the garden, merrily chattering on about nonsensical things as they went.

* * *

The past four days had been stressful and tiring. Not only had Darla been busy working with Captain Bedan refitting Shikkeron for its new assignment, she was also writing letters of commendation for all the members of her forensic team and their commanding officers. Any remaining time was taken up assisting one of her captains to assume duties of overseeing scattered Marine companies under Darla's direction. It might take months for Mihai's materials and supply officer to complete his mission searching the far-flung cities of the interior colonies and the Trizentine.

Darla was also uncomfortable with her being the center of attention after Ambassador Tizrela honored the major at the recent council and Planetee's bestowing on the girl a new name. It was the current buzz throughout nearby ships and crews in the fleet. The woman was constantly being hunted down and congratulated, even by total strangers. She was now being addressed as 'Adaya' nearly as often as 'Darla'. Although delighted with her new name and the reason for it, she found all the attention troubling, even somewhat dismaying. Were people really unable to grasp the value of someone's deeds unless first recognized by the great elders of her world?

Darla mulled over these thoughts as she waited in line for her morning meal. She worked until after midnight at her duties and was up before the fourth hour attempting to complete some overdue tasks. The aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread was nearly making the woman faint from hunger, becoming so absorbed in her desire for food that little notice was given to the person approaching.

"Major, it's such a pleasure to see you this morning! Would you indulge my presence during breakfast?" Colonel Arkeo's charming voice sounded in Darla's ears with the force of a sledgehammer. The colonel wanted to breakfast with her? Why? He sounded too cheerful to be bringing criticism. Wouldn't he rather be buried in debate with fellow officers? Was he flirting? No! The colonel never attempted a relationship with anyone in his command.

Darla finally stuttered, "S...s...sure, Colonel Arkeo. It would be my...I mean...fine."

"Good! Good!" the colonel jauntily replied. "Follow me, please...that is, after you obtain your refreshments. I have a table."

Darla only nodded, baffled and somewhat nervous. She was a major in the Marines, not an unimportant position, but still a very common one. A major was little more than a glorified captain, except with more soldiers under his or her command. Normally they only carried out orders from a superior officer and directed the junior officers as to what they were to do. Still, a major was of high enough rank to be admitted into the inner circle of leading officers, especially with informal gatherings.

Darla found her way to Arkeo's table and sat down across from him. In moments, two other officers joined them. Darla was polite and cordial. She offered her appreciation for the men's recognition of her new name and the honor that went with it, but her stomach refused any more polite disruptions. Apologizing for her rudeness of not carrying on with expected gossip and chitchat, the woman practically inhaled her food. Arkeo and his fellow officers smiled at one another.

After several mouthfuls, the gnawing hunger in Darla's stomach was somewhat satisfied. She took up making light conversation by asking each of the two officers about their duties and responsibilities. Both men were strangers to her. So when they in turn offered news about themselves, she paid honest, often rapt attention to what they said.

There was also a reason why Darla practiced this method. Although she was truly interested in getting to know more about these other officers, there were advantages to the major's common approach to group conversation. By starting out with a question, it most assuredly required her recipient to reply with an answer. If skillfully done, she could keep finding new questions to ask based on the previous answers given, avoiding being asked questions, herself. Darla did not like talk that centered on her and she actively sought ways to avoid it being done, forcing the focus of attention to remain elsewhere. This was not to be the case today.

Breakfast was not half finished when Planetee arrived with a steaming mug of morning brew and a heaping plate of food. After sitting and offering hellos, she settled down for what appeared to be a casual, lingering meal. Now Darla became somewhat disappointed. Planetee was supreme commander of the Marine Corps and had personally approved Darla's commission to major. There would be no way for Darla to politely excuse herself if she disliked the direction the conversation was heading.

Darla was also puzzled by Planetee's appearance. This was a common mess hall generally used by non-officer enlistees, although lower and middle-ranking officers routinely breakfasted here. Still, she scanned the room. There appeared to be a great deal of brass present. And then there was the commodore general. Rarely would one of such high rank be found at mess for breakfast. In fact, it was Field Marshal Trisha's habit of eating in the common mess hall that created such a stir about her. Planetee, though, was from the old school of decorum that politely dictated the need to hold to a separation between enlisted personnel and professional officers.

(Author's note: _Do not think this practice strange or demeaning. Up through the Great War and until the days just preceding the King's War, those survivors of the first conflagration - all officer cadets - had to sign an exclusive stay for the military, remaining in the active reserves for the duration of the Rebel Wars. This was an expectation. There was no punishment for failure to fulfill the stay._

Non-commissioned officers and enlistees signed up for periods of time or durations of conflict, obligations fulfilled upon completion of such duties. Thus a division evolved within the military with two different mindsets and attitudes. This division became most notable during leisure hours, when each group often sought out other like-minded companions.)

Darla intended to grab a fast meal and quickly return to her workload, hoping to finish needed jobs by midmorning. Mihai's adjutant was scheduled to arrive on Starlight by early afternoon. Ambassador Tizrela, who was also Trisha's ranking staff officer, would immediately depart for Oros on the same ship. Darla feared that after the adjutant arrived, she'd be so busy playing nursemaid and host to the new arrival that there would be no time to finish her other duties. Her experience with administrative leadership was the person took themselves too seriously, knew just enough about the assignment to mess it up, and squandered everyone's time with trivial and meaningless requests.

She was interrupted in the middle of pondering her coming fortunes by Tizrela's clear voice. "What a surprise! May I join your cozy little group? I wasn't expecting to see so many familiar faces."

The major's head spun around, shocked in surprise. The ambassador? This made no sense at all. But before she could consider matters further, another person called out to the ever-growing party.

"Hello! Are there any more places at your table or must I eat alone?" Euroaquilo's booming voice shook the room with its resonance as he hurried to an empty chair at Darla's side. There was no doubt about it, something was up. The surprised look on Darla's face quickly turned to suspicion. Still, Euroaquilo's presence made it all worthwhile. The woman unabashedly let out a squeal of delight, cuddling up to the admiral, hugging his arm and kissing his cheek.

Euroaquilo's jovial mood was infectious, the conversation becoming loud and boisterous, exaggerated accounts of heroic deeds, tales of curing spoiled stew, and ways of avoiding junior officers bringing laughter and tears. Long after the last morsel of breakfast had been downed, the merry-making went on. Gradually, others in the room began to gather round, lending their voices to the growing tumult. Even Darla was soon laughing and carrying on with the rest of the crowd. In fact, the major became so engrossed in the friendly, playful jousting she failed to notice how many people were there.

Planetee was the first person to stir. She stood and grabbed a glass with a spoon, hitting it against the empty tumbler, rapidly quieting the noisy group. The commodore general wasted little time after getting their attention. "My fellow comrades at arms, the hour we have so longed for is drawing ever closer! Beyond our frontiers lie the enemy's armadas. Soon we will be engaged in a conflict that must have only one outcome. We are the ones who have been called upon to make that possible. Courage, cunning, and endurance are all needed qualities each of us must display in order to accomplish this purpose. Although war still looms on the horizon, there are many among us who have already offered themselves up on the altar of fire and death in many past conflagrations. It is to those with us here today that I bow in recognition for all their sacrifices made and for their willingness to carry on to the bitter end."

Planetee paused then looked at Darla and, sweeping her arm in the major's direction, exclaimed, "There is one in particular who silently sits in the shadows that I desire to speak of this day, a child of the New Age, one who never experienced the innocence we shared in our hearts. Yet this child has divested her soul of all other interests to bring Asotos and his stooges to ruin! She has never let up in her assault against this wicked tyrant! From her baptism into fire at the first siege of Megiddo to the inferno of the Day of Tears and Memphis, this woman has never faltered or tired out. I know of no greater warrior!"

As Darla became aware that she was the person Planetee described, her face flushed crimson. Shrinking down in the chair, she stared at her plate, hoping to become invisible. This speech was unnecessary and uncalled for. The woman had always lived in the shadows, trying only to do the right thing, nothing more. At the moment, she was almost wishing to be charging a line of a hundred Pseudes commandos instead of being the focus of such undesired adoration.

Planetee, though, did not stop. "Few of us have faced the Dragon...and of those who have, fewer have survived to come off victorious. Our sister not only stared the Great Serpent down, but also delivered him such a wound as he is not able to overcome! In the Lower Realms there is told the story of how the face our sister, Juliet, launched a thousand ships. My comrades, among us there stands... er, sits a woman who has set an entire universe ablaze!

"I have dreamed a dream just the other night. In that dream I saw a female child, a babe caught up in the hands of a monster demon that was trying to devour her. No one came to her aid, yet the demon could not consume the infant for power beyond normal continued issuing from her eyes and her mouth spoke silent denunciations against it. I watched in amazement until the child, itself, reached out and, with oaths unuttered, consumed the demon, crushing it to nothing."

Gesturing with her hands for added emphasis, Planetee continued, "And I beheld the child become as though dead. And all those surrounding her began to weep. But she was not dead! And the child stood up on her feet and she cried an oath to all those living and all those who have perished, 'I have waked to end all matters. Legion, I shall not again leave your dreams until your head is carried in celebration! All your lovers I will slaughter by the edge of my sword! And I will leave nothing but desolation for you in my path. The dead shall rejoice, for what I will do to the living is too shocking to relate.' And a burning erupted within the child's eyes and grew until she was a consuming blaze. In her explosive rage, she rampaged across the heavens, turning the stars and planets red with the blood of those slain!"

Planetee paused. The room was silent. No one dared speak. What was this? Surely it had been a vision from Lowenah, but what was its value? And who really was the commander speaking of? They were not kept waiting long. Extending her arm toward Darla, Planetee boldly exclaimed, "Behold Adaya, Queen of the Darkness and of the Blood! Her hand shall be on the back of the neck of our enemies and her sword will cleave them asunder! Our sister is truly an angel on fire!"

A deathly hush fell over the room. All eyes focused on the woman sitting at the officers' table. Then a voice whispered, "Therioskotia..."

Like a deathly breeze on a haunting night, the name drifted off the lips of one person after another until its chill settled like frost on the hearts of all present. The officers standing near Darla involuntarily stepped back, opening a space between themselves and the girl. The silence continued to grow until only the anxious breathing of hundreds of souls was all there was to be heard.

Never were things to be the same for this woman again. The name 'Darla' would soon fade into wistful memories, and the meaning of the name 'Adaya' was to forever change. 'God's jewel'? Well yes, but there now is a darkness surrounding it. 'Queen of the Darkness'...was that not what Planetee called the child? 'Wild Beast of Darkness'... was that not what 'Therioskotia' meant? 'Queen of the Blood...did not the 'Wild Beast of Darkness' also have an insatiable hunger for blood? On that day, 'Adaya', or 'Queen Adaya' became the recognized name used to address this child of the New Age.

The prisoner exchange was not long ago, and well remembered was the fear on the faces of Asotos' men when Darla had been called 'Therioskotia'. Were Planetee's similar words used to describe the major just a coincidence? Unlikely, for the commander was sure to have chosen carefully what she spoke. And the dreams...yes, the dreams... There was no doubt in the people's minds. This woman was to become just like the mythical beast that haunted the Pseudes worlds of the dead. Lowenah was bringing to life the very gods her wicked children had turned to worship instead of her.

In an instant, the entire gathering became aware of the significance of all these things. Finally, after millennia of waiting and longing to see prophecies fulfilled and promises delivered, the loyal children of Lowenah were watching the birth of the weapons that would bring the demise of all wickedness. The three swords were alive and would soon strike the enemy. Now, the very nightmares of their foes were to become a reality. True, their world was to suffer much sadness before the long night was finished, but the tools for victory had been delivered into the people's hands.

With that understanding came an almost involuntary rush when, as though with one breath, all the people excitedly whispered, "Queen Adaya!"

Eventually the major stood, slowly rising so as to be seen by all. What could she do? Planetee had called out to everyone there the need to recognize this officer. It was now her responsibility to respond by acknowledging the honor given her. Looking directly into the commander's face, Darla softly replied, "You praise me in ways I feel that are undeserved." Bowing slightly, head down, she answered, "Your servant girl. May the insight of dreams bode well for the future of our people."

Planetee smiled, her attention still focused on Darla. The major stood erect and looked into the commander's face. For some time the two women gazed into each other's eyes, sharing some private memories. It was the commander who broke the silence, proclaiming, "My fellow soldiers at arms, there is purpose for my visit here this morning, so now allow me to get on with my business. As you well know, as the shadow of our enemy grows in the east, so does the strength of our own armies. This necessitates that we increase the number of our military corps and divisions."

She began to scan the audience. "It is my pleasure to announce that the Third Fleet's Marine division is being increased by two new brigades. The Third and Fifth Frontier Regiments are to comprise the nucleus of one of the new brigades. Colonel Arkeo has been requested to take command and help bring the new brigade up to strength, a responsibility he has graciously accepted."

Colonel Arkeo, soon to be 'Brigadier General Arkeo', politely stood and, smiling, bowed toward Planetee and then his fellow officers. Hundreds applauded their approval of Arkeo's new appointment. Darla started to sit but Planetee motioned her to continue standing. The commodore general was not finished. "By his personal request, Colonel Arkeo has asked for Major AdayaDarla to take command of his former regiment, the Third Frontier **.** I would like to make personal request to Colonel AdayaDarla for her acceptance of this post."

Darla was dumbfounded. Her face flushed red once more. She was at a loss as to what to say or do, feeling awkward and out of place. If earlier events of morning had been difficult to handle, this was even more so. Sweat formed on her brow and her fingers began to fidget with her uniform buttons. Smiles grew on the faces of some of her closer acquaintances as they watched her predicament.

Finally, Euroaquilo gently nudged her with his elbow. Leaning down and speaking in her ear, he whispered, "Don't just stand there. Accept the offer!"

Although a whisper, Euroaquilo's voice still boomed in Darla's head. With a start, she snapped to attention and timidly replied, "I am your servant. If this is what you request of me, I shall do my best to prove your choice wise." She then bowed toward Planetee.

Planetee smiled. "It is my request! And now, Colonel AdayaDarla, let me be the first to congratulate you on your promotion."

At that, the entire room erupted in applause and praise. It was several minutes before Planetee could continue. Again speaking to the new colonel, she stated, "When you return from your current assignment, you are to take up your new command." Then she asked, "At present, is there something we can do to assist you with your duties?"

Darla took a moment to ponder the question, finally responding, "Yes, please. I desire to retain my two staff assistants. Also, please, I feel the need under the circumstances to ask that Lieutenant ArdonKenath be appointed to position of staff major. It would serve me well."

Planetee's face clouded with displeasure and questions. It was obvious to those near her that she was struggling to restrain some rebuttal to Darla's request as she stared at the woman in disbelief. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Euroaquilo's signal. When she looked in his direction, he gave the commodore a slight nod. Still displeased with the request, Planetee grudgingly granted Darla what she asked for. Darla did not smile with gladness at hearing the approval, but Planetee sensed a weight lift off the girl's shoulders.

The commodore general turned to the crowd and thanked the people for coming and for keeping her surprise secret. She then approached Arkeo to congratulate him with a greeting of a hand squeeze and a kiss on his cheek. Next, Planetee turned her attention to Darla. After a warm embrace, she gripped the girl's shoulders with her hands and queried, "Why did you punish me with such a request? If it had been done at any other time, I would have refused. You put me on the spot with my offer, you know."

Darla struggled with an explanation, but was unable to find the right words. She apologized, "I... I'm sorry if I was out of line...I..."

Euroaquilo interceded. "Commodore Planetee, the shadow-world is awake with night dangers. We cannot see them, but like the bitter mountain breeze they chill the bones. An hour awaits this child where she must walk that shadowland alone. If she has asked you for such a favor, it is because her heart feels the need."

Planetee did not stir, but continued looking at Euroaquilo, mulling his statement over in her mind. Finally, she turned her attention to Darla. "Well..." She watched the girl's face. A shadow passed across it, reminding Planetee of her restless dreams. Nodding, Planetee spoke aloud, but to herself, "Who better to know than the person making the lonely journey?" She then hugged Darla. "My dear, I am so pleased with your acceptance of this new rank and responsibility. I can think of no one better qualified for the duty."

The three officers - Planetee, Euroaquilo, and AdayaDarla -lingered for a while longer, chatting about small, unimportant matters. The commodore general finally departed but, before doing so, asked for the new colonel's company at that evening's dinner. She would be hosting Mihai's adjutant and wanted Darla there for the occasion. Planetee also wanted the new colonel to pick up the proper insignias for her uniform.

After Planetee left the room, many of officers remaining in the dining hall crowded around Darla to offer personal congratulations. She graciously accepted each one, attempting to show no impatience at wanting to return to her needed tasks. Euroaquilo laughed at her predicament and soon begged her pardon to take his leave. He promised to meet up that evening after he had finished with business. They kissed goodbye and he hurried off, leaving the girl to her newfound admirers.

Darla was so exhausted after the morning's excitement she decided to take a short nap before continuing her needed work. She found an unoccupied room and snuck inside. 'Twenty minutes will do...'

"Colonel Adaya!" the smiling attendant called out, seeing Darla hurrying toward the officers' mess.

Darla sheepishly thanked the woman, her wet hair spattering tiny droplets of water on the attendant's blouse as she rushed past. How embarrassing, to be late for the commodore's dinner! She had meant to rest only twenty minutes, but a dreamless sleep overtook her and it was past six by the time it released its grip. It was now nearly half past that hour, half past dining time.

She stepped into the room, hoping to go unnoticed. Not to be! Instantly, a dozen voices called out her name, followed by everyone standing and applauding her arrival. Poor Darla, there had been no time to return to Oruomai to bathe and change into evening attire. All she could do was find a washroom and splash some water on her face, soaking her long hair when its ends accidentally fell in the basin. There the woman stood, looking half asleep, wearing a disheveled, water-stained work uniform, and hair uncombed. All Darla wanted to do was cry.

Sensing Darla's distress, Captain NuesonCharboli of Admiral Lonche excused himself from his table and went to the colonel's assistance. He extended his hand, greeting her then made excuse for her appearance. "These are busy times, Colonel Adaya, and I'm sure you have many responsibilities. It is so kind of you to tear yourself away from them long enough to share our company."

Darla looked into the captain's eyes, seeing honest consideration and concern. Few people had ever shown her such real kindness. She recalled the moment and that gallant officer years later when news reached her of the demise of that ship at the battle of Tolkah Bay. Her tears were many on that day.

"Come with me." Captain NuesonCharboli clasped Darla's hand and led her to the table where a place was set for her.

Before Darla could sit, someone across the table stood and reached out for her hand. A man with a huge, toothy grin offered, "Greetings, Capt'n! It is such a pleasure to again be in your company."

Darla was both surprised and pleased to see Jebbson. He was dressed in a brown, pinstriped, double-breasted business suit, with a stiff-collared shirt and a large, black bowtie. A small medallion pinned to his lapel was the only identifying mark that indicated his rank and title. This combined with his loose-cut, shoulder-length hair and short-cropped blonde beard made the man stand out among the others, also making Darla feel somewhat less conspicuous.

Darla smiled, took Jebbson's hand and shook it, remarking, "Major Garlock, it is my pleasure to see you here. Tell me, please, are you the king's adjutant, or am I to expect another?"

Still grinning, Jebbson jovially apologized, "No! No, I'm sorry that you will have to suffer such a simple fellow as myself. Yet I must tell you, when I was informed that you should be the one I was to trouble so, my heart jumped with gladness. My experience tells me that high command usually provides officers who are being disciplined, of little experience, or are stuffed shirts around those with assignments such as mine."

Darla could not help but grin. "So has been my own experience. The ones in command usually dump the dullards, dreamers or incompetent members on their staff when such duties arise. I think it allows them opportunity to clean house without hurting feelings."

They both laughed. Needless to say, not everyone at the table found their jabs at authority all that funny, but their comments were taken in stride. Planetee, who was seated next to Jebbson, interrupted, grumping, "If we are finished gloating over our good fortune, may I call for our late dinner to be delivered?"

Jebbson made a face like that of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, turned and apologized to the commodore general. He looked again at Darla and, before sitting, congratulated her on the promotion. Darla thanked him and quietly sat. Soon the entire group was busy munching on salad or sipping soup. The quiet chitchat grew louder until, before the main meal was finished, humorous stories followed by raucous laughter filled the air.

The evening went well for Darla. No one made any comments about her appearance other than to call attention to her lovely smile or the excited gleam in her emerald-green eyes. She found herself no longer being treated as inferior or cracked as she at times felt others viewed her troubled mind. Later in the evening, Euroaquilo put in an appearance and soon whisked Darla away for more private conversation.

All in all, it turned into a very good day for the girl. She slept sound and secure in the arms of the man she loved so much. When morning arrived, the two lingered in cozy embrace, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the world around them. Duties and responsibilities could wait. That moment belonged to them and them alone.

Planetee and Jebbson remained the longest at the dinner table. Tomorrow Planetee must return to Palace City. She had declined Tizrela's offer to journey with her on Starlight back to Oros, secretly desiring to spend time with Jebbson. The dining hall slowly cleared out as officers either retired for the evening or went back to unfinished duties. It was observed by some of those who lingered that when the commodore and Jebbson departed, she lifted an unopened bottle of wine from a nearby cart as the two sauntered arm in arm out of the hall.

* * *

Trisha woke with a start. Light from a waning harvest moon cast its ghostly shadow across the room. She could not remember her dream, but the flood of remorse and sadness still lingered. A sudden rush of panic swept over the woman, sending a chill running down her spine, making her shoulders shake. Still the man's heavy breathing went unchanged, its rhythmic song as the air was sucked into his lungs halting, held in quiet suspense then finally expelled in gentle release. Somehow that calmed Trisha's heart, but it didn't quell the deep sadness growing within it.

As she lifted her arm and pulled her naked body away from Zadar's sleeping embrace, a cool autumn breeze fell upon her sweaty skin, sending another chill racing through Trisha's body. She clasped her arms together and, after pulling herself from the bed, found a towel to pat the dampness away.

Finished, Trisha cast a glance back toward a still sleeping Zadar, his left arm flopped across the bed where she had been sleeping. How peaceful a picture the man painted, but an aching grew as she watched him. What was wrong with her? She knew that her love was constantly growing for this person, but what she was feeling now wasn't love. No! It was gripping fear. But fear of what? There was no need to fear Zadar. He would never abandon her or betray her trust. He would never leave.

Trisha stiffened. Slowly she turned and quietly walked past the wafting curtains onto the balcony. The upper apartment Zadar had found for them was high on the hillside about a mile from Oros Army Base. He persuaded her into moving out of the officers' quarters, claiming both she and her lieutenants needed to have some space. It was true. Up here a person could tuck the coming war away and think of other enjoyable things. But tonight, as she looked across the city's lower plain and saw the never dimming lights and watched the clouds of furnace smoke shadow the clear sky, the thought of war gripped her, tying her stomach into knots.

The breeze was cool, yet it refreshed her. As it caressed the woman's skin, she could feel tightness grow in the flesh of her breasts while the cold air made her nipples harden. It was all very sensual. Trisha's thoughts drifted back to the romance she had earlier shared with the man sleeping in the nearby room. Never in her life had she felt so loved and cared for as she did when with him. A lilting fuzziness filled her head while she dreamily recalled the past few evenings.

In an instant, the beautiful vision vanished and the earlier torrent of gripping panic returned. With fear-filled eyes, she came to the realization of the reason for its cause. 'I cannot risk losing him! How can I continue to live without the man's touch and caress, his eyes smiling at me, or his soft, gentle love songs?' Her hands began to shake and tears flooded her eyes.

Trisha reached out and clutched the balcony rail. Her head dropped as she quietly wept. The moon's shadow was long surrendered to the darkness before the woman's eyes tired of shedding tears. During that time, a sad comprehension grew within her heart. How many Zadars existed below, in the camps and on waiting transports? It would be her voice that would condemn them to Hell, tear them asunder, and destroy forever what little innocence remained within them. There was nothing she could do to stop it, yet she must be the one to command it. She was to set the day for their slaughter.

Looking back toward the dark opening of the room and thinking about the person sleeping within, Trisha began to understand the sacrifice of these beautiful people. She had never really come to love a man. To satisfy his pleasures in the bed, to bring forth fruitage from the womb, and to care for the needs of her family were responsibilities she accepted for being a woman. Love was an option that few of her kind had truly experienced. Their tears were often tears of loss, loss of a caretaker or protector, or possible loss of security. That fear of loss had often been mistaken for love. Now she was starting to comprehend love.

Love was something so different, so much more beautiful. It changed forever its possessor, leaving an eternal brand on that person's soul. These people were raised in a universe filled with that kind of love. For six thousand years, they had willingly risked its loss in order to return peace to a world divided. Could Trisha's pain at just the fear of losing Zadar be any greater than the pain suffered when these children lost people they loved? Still, they did not falter. To the bitter end they carried the banner of war. They steeled themselves and pushed all other emotion aside as they advanced into the face of death. Who really were these children of a lost age?

Suddenly, like the tolling of a distant bell on a clear night, Trisha understood. Love is not fleeting. Love is timeless, immortal. As long as one's heart beats, as long as the mind can remember, true love cannot die. Real security comes with honest, unabashed love, for no one can steal it from you. Yes, it was common to mourn the loss of a person gone, but the dreams of days spent filled with love remained to comfort the tired soul on stormy nights. There was no need to fear the loss of real love, and these children of Lowenah understood better than all others that truism.

Trisha began to smile - a sad and lonely one, but still a smile. What she and Zadar had could never be stolen away from them. Whatever the future brought, it couldn't change what was already come. It was an impotent warrior against the past. Yet, if the battle was won, all those lost lovers would one day rekindle the smoldering flames of the heart. The risk of loss of a lover was but momentary, yet the sacrifice of their flesh would assure a returning of love remembered. To understand that was the beginning of wisdom.

So it was: to win this war, one must not fear loss. While two hearts still beat together in peace, they should not waste the moment wondering at possible parting. Savor each day one still has with a lover and do not ponder walking the lonely path. Give to the full now, before the cup is broken forever. Enjoy the love while it is there for the taking.

Trisha sighed. She was born to this world for a purpose and she would carry it out. Whatever the loss, it was a paltry price to pay for what it was able to purchase. The runners had come to the game filled with a personal desire to contend. It was her duty to lay out the course that would give them victory. They would still run without her, yet she had been privileged to set the course and lead the race. Tomorrow was another day. What it delivered was not worthy of this night.

A cold gust of wind hurried up from the valley below. Trisha wrapped herself in her arms, darted past the curtains and was soon cuddling close to a man complaining how frozen she was. Trisha giggled, "Then why don't you warm me up?"

Oh, the songs of love.

How enchanting are your refrains, and how hypnotic your music.

Let the mountains carry your voice to the stars so they might declare the joy you bring.

* * *

### SECTION THIRTEEN:

Finding Future's Past

The journey from Palace City into the heart of the Second Realm took several days. Lowenah could have done it in an instant if she had chosen, but taking along mortals forced her to travel by conventional means. Besides, she felt Ishtar needed time to adjust to her new friend.

Needless to say, the community atmosphere during the first part of the trip was rather icy. Lowenah expected the girl to be troubled by memories Treston would rekindle in her. It must be remembered that although the girl had been sleeping in the Web of the Minds for nearly two millennia, to Ishtar her murder in the arena was only a few fleeting months ago. It took a great deal of talking on Lowenah's part to convince the child that Treston was no longer her enemy. Also, thanks to Treston's herculean efforts at trying to make peace, by the time the party reached their destination the child had almost become cordial.

Ishtar was so excited about being back home again she was nearly impossible to deal with. Lowenah finally had to sit her down and give the girl a lecture. "My dear, we are not here on an outing. Business first! One thing you must learn is that duty and responsibility come first and foremost. Then, and only then, if there is time, one may take in the more self-indulgent pleasures of life." She slapped the child on the leg just above the knee and stood. Pointing a scolding finger in Ishtar's face, she asked, "Do you understand?"

Ishtar nodded, her sparkling eyes and wide grin revealing no hint of fear or trepidation, but the talking to did slow the girl down.

"Good!" Lowenah cast a motherly frown. "Now do be nice and act proper. If you're good we may, mind you, I said 'may'...we may visit your old home. And if you're really well-behaved, there could be an added treat in it for you."

Ishtar jumped up from the chair, hugging Lowenah in a suffocating embrace. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" she cried, squealing in delight.

Lowenah only smiled helplessly, glancing toward Treston. He watched Ishtar, saying not a word. The girl acted like a foolish little child at times, and he knew she would be a very difficult pupil to train in the arts of war. At least that's how he saw matters in his mind.

In his heart, though, it was a different picture. Ishtar was still the golden goddess and he the villainous murderer, the unforgiven...unforgiveable. He would rather stand a thousand spears than deliver up to the girl what she must receive. It made his heart sick to think the tortures she must endure before her training was complete, and he able to prevent it, but for the Fates he must allow it. No, must welcome it...

He offered a weak smile in return. At least she...Lowenah...understood.

Lowenah finally pulled herself away from Ishtar's embrace and took a deep breath. Then clasping the girl by the shoulders, she went on to give her instructions. "In a few hours, we shall pay a visit upon someone I have brought you here to meet. This boy is very special to me and, as you will see, to many others as well. It will be your job to get to know him over time. Let me warn you, he is still young," she poked Ishtar in the ribs, "just like you are. And he still acts foolish at times," she poked the child again, "just like you still do."

Ishtar giggled and stepped back so as not to be poked again. Then she reached forward, grabbing Lowenah's extended hand. With a twinkle in her eye, the child promised, "I will do as you say." She laughed, "If he is like me, then he must be a pretty nice fellow."

Lowenah gave the girl another motherly frown, slowly pulling her hand away. "Whether you think he is a nice fellow or not is of little importance to me at the moment. For now, I wish you to become acquainted with him. He will eventually consume much of your life." Lowenah glanced at Treston. "Enough said! Today you shall meet your future trust."

She turned and walked out of the room. Calling back through the door, Lowenah added, "Join me at the forward ramp in twenty minutes...both of you."

Twenty minutes found two wide-eyed sojourners staring out an open gangway into a world neither had ever seen. This was the Middle Realm, the land where it had all begun. According to Lowenah, she had first built this place as a giant observatory to study all her other universes as they developed after being created. "Oh, yes," she told her captive audience, "my children know of only two, the First and Second Realms, but I have made many more."

Lowenah went on to explain how, once she birthed offspring in the First Realm, her heart didn't allow her to depart. Because of that, she moved her home from the Middle Realm to the First Realm, calling it the 'First' because it was the home of her first children. "Every 'realm' or 'universe', whichever you wish to call it, has a palace...well, really an observatory such as the original home palace once was. There is one, still, on your old planet."

Both Treston and Ishtar were filled with questions. Although more restrained in asking, Treston was just as excited to find out more. Lowenah patiently explained many things as the three walked through this strange and exotic land. The wonder of sights never before seen and sounds never heard elsewhere, all taking place under a sky filled with a dancing, glow-like northern lights, but of every color and hue imagined, only added to the delightful stories the Maker of All Things told them. Suffice that time permits the revealing of only some of the intrigues shared that day.

The palace? Yes, there was a palace in the Second Realm at one time. Indeed, it was still there, but it lay hidden under the rubble of a vast mountain of rock that collapsed upon it during a monster deluge. She told them that one day, when all things were made right again, the palace would be revisited and restored to its former splendor.

Where was it? Where it had always been, but hidden far away from prying eyes. Even some of Lowenah's children wondered where it was. Asotos often had searched for it. Indeed, when he wasn't able to locate it, he used the men of that planet to search it out. The lost city of Atlantis, the Fountain of Youth, and other such legends were built on stories shared with humans by Asotos' followers.

Why was he so interested in it? He was familiar with the palace and knew quite well its value and also because he knew it had not been destroyed. Where it was? Oh yes, I digress. Lowenah said it was located at the edge of a place humans called 'Eden', but it was really the 'Garden of Eden'. The palace's name was 'Eden', the garden being only one part of the palace complex. The destructive power of that great flood and the rapid breaking up of the landmasses afterward confused everyone as to its true whereabouts. And Lowenah was not ready to reveal its exact location...not yet.

As for Asotos wanting to find Eden, Lowenah asked, "Remember those locked doors in my inner palace, Ishtar, Treston? Beyond those doors lie passage chambers that will take an immortal like myself to any universe one chooses to go to. A mortal cannot go because the person's essence of life is directly tied in with the Web of the Minds. That web was created to exist and work within the laws written in the web or fabric of the universe. The transport chambers do not operate within those given laws. A person must shed their mortal body and travel only in the essence of an immortal one, like the one you've seen in your blood vision." She pointed to Ishtar. "It's one of the many ways I travel around my worlds.

"Asotos doesn't believe that's really the case. He feels that I have other trickery involved and the doors are sealed to keep them hidden. Well, let me tell you that is not the case, for any mortal trying to use the machinery might, under some circumstances, die a most horrible death." She leaned nearer the two and raised her finger, adding, "Unless..." then, in a near whisper, explained, "I also built those machines for the future, when some of my children would become like me. I knew that it could be difficult for them at first, to remember how to reproduce the proper body for any given universe.

"If the chemistry of one universe were mixed with another's...well, really bad things might happen. So, when an immortal child reaches the desired destination, the machine will fashion the needed body exactly for that universe. Although the person's appearance is the same, their chemistry...inner structure...matches where they are."

Lowenah returned to strolling in the grasses. "I made some changes over time to protect my children just in case a door might accidentally become opened. Now, when someone enters the chamber, he or she must dispossess his or her mortal body, personally. If it's not done, the machine does a quick scan to make sure a suitable body is in the chamber and the person is told to exit." She lifted a finger, shaking it, "That is unless one has a corrupted body like yours were before you passed into death. Then very unpleasant things might happen. So you see, Eden the Palace would do Asotos no good, but he refuses to believe me, although I have told him that many times in the past."

Lowenah sadly shook her head. "He thinks me a deceitful liar, believing I am trying to hide secrets he deserves to know. How little he understands my real desires."

A shadow crossed Lowenah's face, but she refused to allow dark thoughts to ruin the day. Forcing away the gloom, she shrugged, "It isn't wise to waste a beautiful day on wistful regrets, is it?" Her piercing gaze burned into Treston's heart.

Ishtar chimed in, "Tell us more, please, tell us more about the palace. Was it as beautiful as the one I've seen?"

Lowenah laughed, "My little ray of sunshine!" Ishtar oblivious as to what Lowenah meant. She answered, "No, no, it was hidden well, looking more like one of the surrounding mountains. You see, the garden I spoke of was really part of a network of outdoor control laboratories that surrounded the palace. Near vertical walls that looked like mountain peaks jutted hundreds of cubits into the sky to separate the various gardens I had built. All in all, there were seven of them, each with its own special environment."

"What's an environment?" Ishtar asked.

Lowenah paused. Yes, how would the child know? In her day, such a term did not exist among the common people. "I'm sorry, my dear," Lowenah apologized. "Let me explain. An environment is what you live in. Some places are very dry, others are wet, some places are cold, others hot. In each place, different animals and plants can exist. Back at Palace City, the environment can change from hot to cold and back again. It will be snowing in a few months. Then you'll need to start wearing clothes again." She gave Ishtar a little love poke on her naked body.

Although a very simple explanation, Ishtar understood well enough. She giggled and then pleaded, "Go on, please tell us more. Please!"

"All right..." Lowenah was now in her talking mood and wanted to go on. "There were tunnels with watchtowers built along the entire length of all the walls, so we...my children and I could observe what happened in the different gardens. You see, I wanted my children to experience the thrill of creation, that is taking a design thought up in the mind and seeing it all the way through until completion. Over many, many thousands of years, they invented countless things!"

A frown clouded her face. "You see, life is very complex and it all begins with what some call 'genes' or 'DNA'. That's the part of living things so small you cannot see it with your eyes. These genes are the building blocks of all living things. It's like a pile of different length sticks." She held up her fingers to represent the little pieces of wood. "Although they mostly are all the same, you can arrange them differently to make different life forms." Lowenah twisted her fingers this way and that. "If you're not very careful, you might twist them into something that can be very bad for other living things. For that the reason, I designed confined areas to test all the new living creations and observe the resultant growth of the genes."

Lowenah sighed, "When I closed the palace after your parents were evicted from the Garden, I stationed my flaming Cherubs around the whole place, not allowing anyone entry into it. This also took away access to the machines that gave my children the power to put on bodies that enabled them to live in the Second Realm. I didn't realize just how determined my rebel son was on dominating that world.

"I had given my oldest child untold wisdom and knowledge. There were few secrets between him and me. Eventually he figured out how to make new machinery that once again allowed my children to walk in your old world. Besides cohabiting with the earthly women in an attempt to create a new super race, those rebellious sons restarted genetic experimentation in a new location further to the east, calling it 'MusolEgypt' meaning 'energy's pyramids'. But they were careless in maintaining safe controls and some very nasty things escaped."

Lowenah saw a look of confusion growing on Ishtar's and Treston's faces. "I'll leave the telling of that for another day. Let me explain more to you about genes." She picked a wild flower and smelled it, smiling. "Genes have some interesting potential abilities. They possess what might you say is a desire for self-preservation which is independent of the thinking process like we have. If the surrounding environment should change to the point of endangering the living organism, its genes will attempt to adjust to the new surroundings in order to keep the organism alive. Over time, through migration and planetary changes, a great variety of different creatures has come into existence."

She waved her arm. "That's part of the reason you see so many species of dogs and cats. And that's what brings me back to genetic experimentation. In what some call a 'laboratory', a similar process can take place. Usually it's done under controlled conditions like I did in my many garden laboratories. Over a long enough period of time, you can watch how the different genes react to certain conditions. This helps you decide if the genes are safe to release into the wild or uncontrolled environment.

"When I placed your parents in the Garden, they were provided a safe and healthy environment in which to grow and learn. I put nothing there that could cause them lasting harm. Oh sure, there were plants and animals with prickers and stingers, and if certain parts of some plants were eaten, they could make a person ill, but they wouldn't die from eating them. Other what you might call 'deadly plants' were not found in the Garden.

"In the outer world beyond the Garden, a yet untamed land existed. When thoroughly instructed as to the ways of that wild world, the land was to be handed over to your first parents just as I did with my children on EdenEsonbar. Out there, with proper education, your parents would learn to use what you call 'dangerous plants' as tools to build their civilization. Not only would your parents be highly educated, but they were also created with very keen abilities that could sense danger. But that's a story for another day."

Lowenah shrugged, smiling sadly, "What I'm saying is the plants and animals I gave to your parents for food were good to eat and safe! There were no hidden dangers to be found in any of things given them. But that eventually changed.

"After the Rebellion, some of my children made a returning to this planet, claiming that it was their possession and I had no right to refuse them entry to it. Those rebels built cities for themselves and convinced many humans to bow down to them in worship. In these places, great machines in the shape of towers were built...round at first, like a woman's breast and later squared off, often in the shape of a pyramid. To these, the people were forced to prostrate themselves in worship of the Mother-god. That's when humans started fearing me, because of the false stories my rebel children told."

Lowenah shook her head. "I thought the raging flood sent against your planet would destroy all vestiges of those cities. It did not. Children of the survivors of that storm soon discovered the few existing ruins of MusolEgypt. Although little remained, there was found enough written and pictorial information to confirm the stories told by Noah and his family, proving a highly intelligent and powerful race of people had roved about in the Earth. It was from discoveries found at MusolEgypt that most of your old planet's religious philosophies sprang and spread.

"Well, these cities were also the places where genetic experiments were conducted...all different kinds. There were also many what you might call 'sexual experiments' done on hapless victims. This was all part of Asotos' great plan, one that would produce a universe of people able to traverse both realms without putting on different bodies. That was bad enough, but other gene experiments threatened most life on your planet."

Lowenah sighed as her shoulders slumped. "I would like to think it was an accident. Anyway..." she sighed again, "some of the things made in those laboratories escaped into the wild. They were mostly very tiny...too tiny to be seen. They infested living organisms...you know, plants and animals and people. Many of my wonderful creations died, some en mass. There were places on your planet where most living things died almost overnight. It seemed to affect the large animals the quickest."

She frowned, "Other life forms changed themselves to survive. In those mutated states, otherwise harmless plants and animals became deadly to my children." Lowenah waved her arms. "Part of the reason I sent a global deluge over the planet was to eradicate or at least reduce the killing effect of these tiny monsters. Maybe I should have acted more quickly. The Flood destroyed most of the bad inventions, but damage was already done. The animals I had your ancestor preserve alive were free of what some might call the 'genetic virus'. They had built up an inner defense against its effects and are pretty much free of it down to this day. The plants were another story. Although now mostly free of the virus, they were permanently altered and many are now dangerous for humans to eat."

She looked toward the sky, scanning it as though searching for something. "The devastating effects of the nasty things released by my rebel children spread throughout the lands and seas, contaminating all vegetation."

Lowenah reached down and pulled a grassy stalk from the soil. Shaking it, she added, "Every growing thing on your old planet is contaminated. In other words, you must eat to survive. Yet, if you eat, you will slowly poison yourself. That's one reason that after the Deluge the lives of men grew so short."

This was stunning and sobering news to say the least. Ishtar and Treston both were affected by it. Lowenah lifted the gloom by changing the subject to more pleasant matters. She had a way to make quite interesting stories by painting vivid word pictures. In short order, the party found itself in a jovial mood. Lowenah then proposed a late lunch after which the trio would carry on with the day's adventure.

It was mid-afternoon when the three found themselves standing along the side of a two-lane, paved highway. Lowenah explained that no one could really see them and that, in reality, their bodies were not there. She pointed out that she transported them to this spot in some kind of a vision. They were in a real place and each was real to the other and could interact with the other person, but none of the inhabitants of the land were able to see them. "In some ways it's like the day I sent Michael to the arena to assist you." She pointed at Ishtar.

The girl started with a question but was cut off by strange popping noises far down the road. All craned their necks to see what it was. Over a rise came some strange, box-like wheeled machine, popping and sputtering. Gray smoke drifted from under its hood and out of its windows. Suddenly there was one explosive bursting sound, sending huge clouds of acrid smoke bellowing into the air. A loud banging noise coming from the contraption stopped and the vehicle quietly drifted to the side of the road.

Doors flew open and three young men piled out of the machine. Ishtar expected to see them in a state of panic. Instead, the boys started laughing, pointing at the smoke while gesturing wildly. Eventually, one walked to the front of the autocar, lifting up a hood in its front. Sticking his head under the hood, he reached down and exclaimed, "Look at that! A rod came loose and blew a hole right through the side of the block!" He looked up at his friend who was standing nearby. "She ain't gonna run no more. That's for sure!"

The young man standing by asked, "What 'a we gonna do now, Av? I got no way to get this home and I can't leave it here. My mother is outta town and I can't call her. Me and Socks are stuck."

Av cheerfully replied, "We can push it home, Vern. It ain't that far to my place. C'mon." He motioned to Vern's cousin, "C'mon, Socks, you and me will push this thing and Vern can steer." Down the road went the three boys, Av and Socks pushing and Vern walking beside the autocar, his arm through the opened side window and his hand on the steering wheel.

Lowenah motioned for Ishtar and Treston to follow along close enough to hear the ensuing conversations. For over two miles they watched, observed and listened to so many nonsensical stories, antics, and shenanigans, Ishtar was nearly beside herself with frustration. The last straw came when she saw Av motion to Socks to stop pushing the machine. They were on a flat section of roadway at the time. There the trio went on down the road, Av and Socks pretending to push, and poor Vern huffing and puffing to keep the machine moving. When he realized what was being done, he turned around and everyone broke into loud, silly laughter, followed by more silly comments.

Completely disgusted, Ishtar began fuming. "I'm supposed to watch that? Which one of those fools is my ward, or are you just making jest with me?" She eyed Lowenah suspiciously.

Lowenah glanced at Treston, who was standing behind Ishtar. He had such a grin on his face as to say the show brought back memories from his childhood. Then turning her attention to Ishtar, she warned, "Be careful, little one! There are those in great power and authority who might call you out if they heard you speak of your future king that way. Now do be a good girl and watch and learn." She then pointed to the tall blonde-haired boy. "His name is 'Av', for short. His full name is Av'a Dohn. Now I want you to take special notice of him, understand?"

Ishtar quietly sputtered her complaints and let go a jab, citing how childish and reckless the boys acted. Lowenah politely reminded the girl concerning her desire to visit her old home. That silenced Ishtar for the moment. For the remainder of the day and well into the evening, the three watched the young men. Lowenah spent a great deal of that time describing the boy's life and why she had chosen him for such a great future responsibility.

Late that evening the three finally returned from their adventure. Ishtar was a difficult person to impress, and it appeared as though the day's efforts to do so had been futile. Lowenah's fiery servants delivered a delightful meal of steamed ocean greens and scallops smothered in a mildly spicy marinara sauce. Fresh baked bread sticks covered in melted butter, a variety of cheeses, and a huge bowl of cut melons finished the menu of scrumptious delights. After eating their fill, Lowenah invited the girl to go for a stroll.

A whispering breeze made a gentle, rustling noise as it flowed up from a nearby lake, passing through the leaves on nearby magnolia trees. Its warm, soothing fingers on the women's naked flesh was refreshing and invigorating. Looking to her left, Lowenah watched the reflection of the twin moons, Kanda and Istilla, dance across the salty waters where her fiery attendants had procured the ingredients for the evening's meal. Both moons were waxing full, chasing away the midnight darkness, revealing secrets of the night. It would be another twenty thousand years before Kanda and Istilla would share that same moment in brilliant glory. When they lit up the night sky again in such golden splendor, what would they see, Lowenah wondered.

It was this time of day that Lowenah enjoyed the most. Now a person could desist from earlier labors and reflect on successes or failures. If satisfied, there would be the peaceful rest of accomplishment. If dissatisfied, one could dream of ways to do better on the morrow. Lowenah was curious which one was to be hers this night. She patiently waited for the right moment to seek her answer.

For ten minutes, the two strolled on in silence. Lowenah reached out, taking Ishtar's hand, asking, "My daughter, I presented before you today a young man. Many things I revealed about him. You had time to observe and judge what you saw. Tell me, please, and do be fully honest with your speech, what did you think of him?"

Ishtar thought a moment, and then casually offered, "He seems like a nice boy..."

Lowenah stopped and turned the girl toward her. The moon hid the child's face in shadow, trying to make secret her innermost thoughts. But shadow was no match for the reader of hearts. "Do you think me like the foolish women of your city who wished only for answers that tickled their ears? I do not look for succor or to have my spirit salved. Shall I search you out with my own powers or will you be honest in your words?"

Ishtar started with a shock. The past days spent in company with the very Maker of Worlds had lulled the child into forgetting who this person standing beside her was...an easy thing to do. Lowenah was never demanding. She had doted on the girl even more than Ishtar's mother had. Never once did she pronounce her dignity and glory with pomp and ceremony. Now the child was being reminded that there was but one God and, when necessary, she was willing to announce that fact.

Ishtar's head sank, hiding her face deeper in the moons' shadow, this time as though to hide from Lowenah's piercing gaze. In a subdued voice, she whispered, "I'm sorry..."

Lowenah said nothing. She continued to peer into the shadows hiding the girl's face, watching the child's eyes which could not be hidden from the woman's sight.

Finally, the child began, "I don't like him! He's loud and rude! I watched the way he treated the others with him, kind one moment and a cruel trickster the next. He takes his home and grandmother for granted. Oh sure, the other boys with him act the same, and I believe it is as you have said that they are acting like boys do at this age. Still, you say he is someone special, a man I will have to one day bend a knee to." Ishtar lifted her head, revealing a troubled face to the bright light of the moons. "Lowenah, how can I ever submit my soul to someone I feel is a fool?"

Lowenah smiled and cupped her hands around the child's face. "Do you know why you have journeyed through trial and death to stand with me in this very place, this very night?"

The girl answered, bewildered, "Wasn't it for the reward for doing the right things?"

Lowenah laughed, shaking her head. "My dear child, if people attained to this place as a reward, would that mean the others who one day attain life elsewhere did lesser right things? No... No... One's destiny is not based on such silliness. Every one of your kind who ascend to the Worlds Above is delivered here for a purpose...my purpose!" She gripped Ishtar's hand. "Come! Let us walk."

As they passed further into the forest, now accented with juniper, ash, mahogany, and other majestic monarchs of this ancient world, Lowenah began to explain the purpose of the child's destiny. "You have been told much of the history of the Rebellion. Humor me if I should repeat some information.

"As you already know, I was preparing my oldest son, 'Asotos', as he is known today, to become leader over all my universes attached to this Middle Realm. In order to accomplish that feat, he was to become immortal, like me. I would then be free to fulfill my personal desires, which I can tell you are far, far from being a ruler. For countless ages I prepped him, giving him power, wisdom, and insight while revealing my most intimate secrets to him. He was to have all the knowledge of the universe at his disposal." She sighed, "Throughout those ages, I tested my son out as to fitness to make sure I was choosing a person who would care for my children in loving and unselfish ways the same as I have. I found the man a most worthy candidate, often proving himself beyond my expectations until..." Lowenah allowed for a moment of silent suspense to pass. "...until the day I offered him oversight of your home planet. That was long before Michael...your king, Mihai was born or your home planet was even a ball of fire. Two things surprised and concerned me. He became quite demanding at times as to the how the basic structure of life was to develop. That's why you see that much life there has one common framework and is mostly carbon based. I will explain what carbon is at another time. The other, more disturbing thing was how he wanted the females of your kind made.

"You see, in this world, women were created with equal status to the men. It's true, they gain special pleasure in satisfying their brothers and making them happy. So, my daughters willingly and voluntarily surrender their hearts up to the desires of their male siblings. But Asotos did not want such giving to be voluntary among the daughters of your world. He continually urged me to build into my daughters a need or craving for the men so that they would, by nature, submit themselves to the males as an orderly course of things.

"I resisted Asotos down to the end, that is, until your ancestress foolishly rejected her own wisdom. After she departed from me, I changed her heart to have a passionate need for her husband so that all mankind could see the folly of such an act. And Adam did become a tyrant...something not lost on his sons. Your womankind inherited some of that trait from her as a witness, proving that no man should have such power over another. You have even come to see how cruelly men have dominated women down to this day.

"I became cautious and my heart filled with questions concerning Asotos' motive. So I put my oldest to another test, hoping he would understand what I was doing. He did not. In the days after I brought forth your ancestress to her husband and gave the Earth to them, a great festival was carried on in the Palace City. My children had traveled from many distant places to celebrate this wonderful day, one that introduced procreation to all my children. Many now saw a future purpose in the way they were made. It certainly didn't escape my son.

"He could see himself as lord over unnumbered crowds of servants bending to his will and answering to his every whim. I watched the desire growing in him for some time...a near lust to control others. He tried to keep it secret, but I knew him too well. The time had come to force the issue. That was the reason I set the tree in the garden I made for your ancestors and personally warned the man to leave it be. I wander from my point, though. Let me go on.

"At the festival, I gave your planet and all that was in it over to my daughter, Michael, to be chief steward, seeing to the affairs of the world of men. Anger erupted in my oldest son. Although I hoped he would settle down after awhile...and he did appear to do so...I saw need to change my view of immortality and what it would actually be. But that's another story for another day. Allow me to jump ahead in time.

"The Rebellion did not change my desire to have someone other than myself oversee the well-being of these universes. I decided to use a person from your world to serve that purpose, in part, because I could use the procreative powers of your people to eventually make the kind of person I wanted. He would be just right for the job."

Lowenah stopped and, turning toward Ishtar, also took hold of her other hand. "He was not the only one I fiddled with." She winked.

Ishtar gasped. "Did you fiddle with me?"

Lowenah chuckled aloud, "Did I? Did I ever...the same way I fiddled with so many others who now stand with you in the First Realm, and all of it done right under the nose of my insolent son!" She explained that by bringing different people together over the centuries and sorting the tiny sperm and eggs, people with the desired qualities were born into existence. "So you see, not every marriage or even every sexual union was random and coincidental." She gently poked the child. "You were conceived at the base of a blossoming tamarisk tree on a night very much like this one. And, yes, your mother wasn't married to your father. In fact, she knew little more than his name, but was so smitten by his handsome beauty she ran off with him for an evening's pleasure. It served my purpose and I took advantage of the hour."

Ishtar was aghast. "I'm a bastard child?"

"No," Lowenah kindly scolded, "you were a holy child, made by my own hand." She smiled, "Yes, a child conceived outside of marriage by the laws of men, but one born into it under those same laws. Yet man's laws mean little to me, the Inventor of law." Lowenah allowed little time for the girl to collect her thoughts.

"From the day Cain took his sister, I was preparing you and that foolish boy. Through times of hunger and slaughter, through the age of the Fellers and on past the darkness of cold, gray waters, I protected the works of my hands. Shem's seed I secured and finally mixed with the blood of all men...the Cushites, Canaanites, Moabites, Syrians, Persians, and also the Macedonians, of which your father was also one. All these, along with many other nations, I mixed with your ancestor's...the man I had record the history of the founding of your world. You and that boy both share much of that heritage."

Lowenah reached up and took the child by the arms. "You are my agent, a weapon I have created to bring destruction. That boy is the one who will wield that weapon in the final hour. In his strength, you will crush nations. The blood of warriors flows in your veins and I shall temper you with that blood so that you become a master at war. That boy will also be trained for his part. He's being trained at this very moment. He will grow, just as you will also."

Lowenah released the child. Turning her head, she scanned the scenic view of the lake then reached over to touch the girl's arm. "I chose you to be a companion to the boy. He will one day come to love you and, by his own mouth give you glory above all your siblings, here and in the Realms Below. You will not call him 'foolish' in that day, nor will you think him cruel or uncaring."

She looked at the child, her eyes betraying the seriousness on her mind. "You must grow up! There is no time remaining for your childhood. Tomorrow you and Treston shall visit your old home. You will learn many things you wished not to. After we return, you will leave my house and join with Treston, a man delivered to this place for this very purpose. He will instruct you in all the ways of war. You will obey him and do as he tells you. If not, I give him permission to do with you as he sees fit. He will become as a god to you, and you - you shall do all the things he tells you!"

Ishtar was too shocked and taken by surprise to comment. She had not expected such a command and had given no thought to the reason Treston had accompanied them to this place. There were many emotions rushing through her at the moment, from crying to laughing, to explosive anger. But Ishtar was a good girl. She was made of 'good stuff' like Lowenah had once said. The girl remained silent. That night the child started to become a woman.

* * *

Glaring red warning lights erupted on the control panel, along with shrill, intermittent buzzing. _"Abort! Abort! Abort!"_ a voice shouted over the intercom.

"Damn!" Sirion snorted as she yanked back on the throttle in order to engage the boosters and stop her descent to the landing deck. The engines ignited in a boastful whirr, followed by loud, explosive popping only to fade into nothing.

"I've got dead stick! I've got dead stick!" Sirion shouted into the headset. "I'm spinning in!"

After a brief silence on the other end, a response came. "Screen is up, Captain. Fire your forward rockets when ready."

"Rockets! I read you clear!" Sirion called out. "Copy... Copy... Rockets clear on that!"

Suddenly, Sirion's spiraling fighter slammed into the activated force field protecting the carrier from being rammed. Like some clumsy, drunken dancer, the fighter went bouncing along the edge of the barrier. Every time it crashed into the invisible wall, a multi-colored shower of molten sparks erupted at the point of contact. The force created would push the gyrating machine away, only to have it fall back into the field a few seconds later.

"Rockets armed!" Sirion called. She waited until the nose of her spinning fighter was drifting toward perpendicular to the carrier. "Awa..." Two massive explosions less than two rods' distance shoved the ship away from the force field and slammed her forward against the harness. With a crunch, Sirion's jaw snapped closed on her lower lip, driving a tooth through it. Sirion didn't feel the pain or notice blood trickling down her chin. She looked up and smiled. Her timing was nearly perfect, the spinning almost stopped, and the ship was distancing itself from the carrier.

"Good job, Patch! Good job!" the con called out. "No damage here. Report your condition."

The girl scanned the controls and gages. "Life support systems good. No fuel leaks. No fires..." She double-checked the gages then added, "Bring baby home."

In little over an hour, a sky tug had muscled the crippled fighter onto the isolation deck and through the induction chamber doors. A half hour later, a voice over the cockpit intercom gave Sirion the 'all clear'.

With a _crack!_ followed by the sound of pressurized gasses, the ship's canopy snapped up and slid back over the fuselage. A small, diminutive woman in a silver flight suit crawled out of the pilot's seat and stepped onto a mobile ladder platform. After reaching the deck, she turned to examine the damaged vessel, finally stopping at the failed port thruster. For a moment, Sirion remained motionless. Suddenly she slammed her fist against the ship's side and angrily cussed, "Piece of shit! Worthless piece of rotten shit!"

This had been her third malfunction this week, and was by far the most dangerous. Had her speed been much faster when the thruster died, she would have likely careened across the crowded flight deck, killing or injuring herself and possibly many others. Fortunately, she had considered problems and had prepared accordingly. Coming in slow offered the necessary time for the carrier to put up its emergency force shield to close off the flight deck. It also gave her the ability to fire two rockets pointblank into the side of the carrier's shield, the explosion driving her away from other possibly fatal encounters.

Leaning against the cold exhaust manifold, the captain let out a sigh of helplessness and shook her head. The DTB series fighter-bomber was long obsolete. It had been removed from frontline service centuries before the Great War and had seen little use for over one hundred-fifty years. When the cry went out for fighting ships...anything...several dozens of these derelicts were hauled from scrap yards and cobbled together to be used where possible. The difficulties of coupling together modern navigation and weapons systems with a piece of 'ancient junk' as they were often called, made them nightmares to keep operational.

Other DTBs assigned to the fleet suffered regular mishaps, but the shortage of serviceable craft kept the machines on active duty. Tonight a repair crew would work late to fix the problems, and tomorrow Sirion would take this thing out to support a patrol guarding a tanker convoy headed for the First Fleet's Ninth Battle Group somewhere in the eastern ranges of the Southern Ring. If she was lucky, Sirion thought she might survive to eventually return to Sophia in a week or so... if she was lucky. She muttered just under her breath, "Merimna will be there to fix this tub up for the return trip, if I make it that far. At the least, it can retrieve my carcass if this tub breaks down again."

"Captain!" The booming voice of Sirion's squadron commander echoed across the room. Sirion spun around and acknowledged him while stepping out from under the belly of her fighter. "I'm sorry, Sir. A malfunction in the relays or computer caused my engines to fail."

The squadron commander grinned. He had just returned from a patrol and was informed of Sirion's near fatal accident only moments before. "You look little worse for wear, Patch, but I must warn you, stunts like yours need to be saved for larger audiences. Wasting scarce ammunition without a crowd near is a shame! Please allow us some advanced warning next time so more of us can see the performance."

Sirion sighed wearily. The commander was only trying to ease the tension of the moment, but his jovial comments, though well intended, only added to the girl's distress. She attempted to cover it up by replying in like form. "I was going to send you a letter announcing the show, but I stuck my finger in the inkwell by mistake. By the time I figured out what I did, it was time to leave. Sorry..."

The commander laughed. He had totally overlooked Sirion's dismay and frustration. Yet somehow his warm humor did manage to lift the girl's spirits. 'Funny,' she thought, 'I should've been angry at his response to my near tragedy. Instead, I somehow feel a little better.'

Walking up to his charge and lifting a hand toward her face, he mused, "I think you spilled some of the ink." Sirion lifted a finger to her split lip. She hadn't noticed it until now. Already it had swelled, and just touching it sent hot pains through her face. "You might want to clean up a bit, too," the commander added. "That ink's dripped all over your uniform."

The shock of having been injured showed in her expression, she chastising herself for such clumsiness. Sirion might have cried had it not been for what the squadron leader said next. "Group commander wants to see you at eighteen hundred hours. That's less than an hour. I suggest you not be late." He would say nothing more about the matter.

Sirion didn't have time to think about her unhappy experience with the fighter that day. She hurried off to get medical attention and change her uniform, fearing the entire time how this third mishap in a week must have displeased her superiors. Eighteen hundred hours found a cleaned up and bandaged very nervous Sirion knocking on the group commander's door.

"So you consider yourself a good pilot?" Colonel SaleuoOros **,** Sirion's group commander, sat across the desk from Sirion, asking about her flying abilities. For twenty minutes he had pummeled her with questions, each one being more accusative than the last, nearly abusive in his responses to her answers, becoming increasingly sarcastic and deprecating with each reply. He gave the girl an icy stare as he waited for her answer.

The colonel, whose name meant 'the one who shakes down mountains' was no stranger to Sirion. He had been a senior staff officer aboard one of the ancient fleet carrier's during the Two Hundred Years War. Saleuo, then a major, was influential in getting Sirion pulled from active duty after a collision with another fighter in her squadron which had killed her navigator. Although an investigation confirmed the accident was caused by mechanical failure, she was removed from active fighter duty for the remainder of the war, eventually becoming a hack driver, someone who delivered new, unarmed ships from the factories to the fitting and equipping depots.

Sirion never managed frontline fighter duty again. What she didn't know was that Mihai had made personal request of her close friend, Saleuo, to keep her little sister from harm's way. The accident provided a good excuse to do that. So here she sat, facing the man who ruined her opportunity to fly fighters in combat. As she sparred with him, a feeling grew inside that once again he was attempting the same, using the week's malfunctions as proof of her inability to be a trusted pilot. Well, if he wanted her head, he'd have to take it by force! She wouldn't just hand it over!

Ignoring her pained lip, Sirion boldly replied, "Sir, only a good pilot could fly a Dumb Toby!" a nickname her squadron had for the DTBs. "I am sure you are aware of my dismal record in the 17 simulation chamber. I admit my lack of experience with that machine, but I contest anyone questioning my abilities and skills regarding others. I have been flying military craft since the Megiddo Wars and was, as you might recall, a frontline fighter pilot during the Two Hundred Years War. I..."

She was interrupted by a knock on the commander's door.

"I think you've made your point, Captain. Excuse me." Colonel Saleuo pushed himself up from his desk and walked around it, past Sirion, to personally open the door.

"Please come in, Commander." Saleuo's voice had instantly warmed and carried a lilting note as he addressed their visitor.

Sirion turned to see who the stranger was.

"Thank you, Commander Saleuo, for taking time from your busy schedule to consider my request." Terey stood in the doorway, wearing a crisp, new, white dress uniform that was trimmed in sky blue - colors for Navy pilots. In one hand she carried a small package and some rolled up papers. Looking past Saleuo, she added, "I see our guest has already arrived." She made eye contact with Sirion, who sat there dumbfounded.

Saleuo returned the salutation and replied, "I requested the captain's company earlier. Needed to settle some details in my mind before you arrived." He took Terey's hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek, after which offered her a chair next to Sirion. The colonel then returned to his place behind the desk.

Sirion's confusion was obvious. She wanted to angrily shout that it had been more of an inquisition than an information-gathering session. She chose to say nothing, not wanting to give Saleuo any more excuse to pull her from active duty.

As soon as he and Terey were settled, Saleuo began, "Patch, allow me to assure you, I have always felt you to be a good pilot, better than average. And allow me this...there were reasons other than that accident for your removal from frontline service years ago - reasons I am not at liberty to divulge." He looked over at Terey, who nodded in agreement.

Sirion wasn't offered time to respond, partly because the growing color in her face reflected a rising anger. Saleuo hurried on. "Those days are past and must be put aside. I do not regret my part in what was done. And if you fully understood what had been at stake, I think your reaction might be more subdued."

He waited for Sirion to respond. She began to realize there was less anger than frustration and perceived humiliation. Those feelings still cut deeply, but growing curiosity softened her reply. She still believed some explanation was in order. Mustering control, she calmly responded, "Colonel, for over twelve hundred years, I have carried a troubled heart from my removal from frontline duty. If it was not concerning my abilities or conduct, I feel some answer is deserved."

Saleuo caught Terey's eye. She nodded. "All right," he sighed. "I shall provide what I can. Leadership is served in many ways. The outcome of a battle is not always limited to the results on the field. Clear minds and sound reasoning are also important things, oft times far more important than actual combat. If poor decisions are made because minds are needlessly distracted, the entire course of war may easily be altered. There were those who feared you a distraction."

He raised his hand to silence Sirion. "You want to know. Allow me a little more. There have been many fingers in your pie over the past millennium. There were reasons - reasons we believe warranted our actions and reasons why you were not informed. You did more to serve the cause by staying in the background than you realize."

He shook his head. "That's all changed now. The issue has been resolved. If you wish to kill yourself in some mortal combat, thus sparing another that fate, we will not stand in your way. Be assured, this coming war will provide many opportunities for you to accomplish it, should that be your desire. As for the past, for the moment it must remain there. I hope what you have been informed of will suffice."

Saleuo stood and began to slowly pace while he continued, hands clasped behind his back. "Captain Sirion, I don't dislike you. In fact, I have always been fond of my little sister. You do not remember my visits to our mother when you were but a babe. They were peaceful days back then. We would often sit on a blanket in the sun, you making bubbles with your lips the way babies often do, and playing with my beard. I nicknamed you 'Twinkles **'** because of your beautiful, big, twinkling eyes. I loved you then and that feeling has not changed."

He turned toward Sirion, placing his hands on the table, resting his weight on his arms. Looking her in the face, he explained, "War changes things - not feelings, but things. I have responsibility for the lives of many others I love as much as I do you. I have responsibility for the safety of this fleet. I do not take my job lightly."

The colonel resumed his former stance, but turned away so as to face the back wall. "A good pilot is not necessarily a good leader. I know you to be a good pilot. You're also an outstanding example of valor and loyalty. Why, I have even heard songs others have made regarding the things you've done." He turned around. "That's all well and good, but it doesn't make you a good leader!"

Sirion was caught up speechless. What was the colonel driving at? She needn't wait long. "Captain Sirion, the fleet is in a constant state of change. Readjustments are being made to prepare for coming war. Every day, new ships are being added to the growing battle groups. Slowly, very slowly, new and reconditioned fighters are finding their way into our hands. This permits us the ability to rearrange and enlarge our squadrons. It also offers opportunity to replace older ships."

Saleuo paused and sat. "Sophia has received some of the new TKR14's, the T series. These, combined with a few reconditioned older models, bring us up to sufficient strength to allow the Dumb Tobys to be shipped back for refurbishing. You know they're solid ships, but it has been decided that they just cannot be refitted to perform on a modern carrier. They will eventually be used as ground-based units and should do quite well under those circumstances.

"Now for you, Captain..." Colonel Saleuo allowed Sirion to collect her thoughts. "Commander Terey has honored us with her presence aboard this ship. She, in my opinion, is an outstanding leader and one of the best fighter pilots in the Empire. But things being as they are, Command had to wait for an opening before we could take more advantage of her outstanding skills."

For Sirion's benefit, Saleuo mentioned Terey's long history of being one of Mihai's chief lieutenants and counselors. He added that no one had expected her to leave that post after Mihai received the crown. When she appeared on Gabrielle's doorstep, there were no positions fitting her qualifications available. Catching Terey's eye, he added, "Her loss has been our great gain." Then sadly shaking his head, he lamented, "I doubt such a skilled warrior and general shall remain in our company for long."

An underlying tone of bitterness was carried on Terey's reply. "Any position of service where a person is made to feel of value is an honorable place to be. I am grateful to you and the other commanders aboard this ship for offering me opportunity to feel useful."

Saleuo slapped his hands flat on his desk and exclaimed, "No matter. It is I who am grateful for your company! Should I be given the choice, I would happily follow under your banner, having you issue your wise orders for me to obey."

He now focused his attention on Sirion. "Two new squadrons are being added to Sophia. One of these is being placed in my battle group, bringing up its strength to four squadrons. This fourth squadron will be made up of four flights, each with four fighters. The lead two flights, one being four TKR17's pulled from other squadrons in my battle group and the other, four new TKR14T's. Terey's flight of 17's has been chosen to make up the lead element of the new squadron. The remaining two flights are to be made up from eight of the refurbished 14's and their crews will come mainly from the DTB squadrons."

Colonel Saleuo offhandedly commented, "I concluded, of course, that any one-eyed pilot who could manage the controls of a Dumb Toby could fly a rebuilt 14."

The corners of Sirion's mouth broke into a smile. Saleuo stopped her. He raised his hand toward her, palm out. "That's not why you've been requested here. Allow me to continue."

Sirion's smile vanished. The serious look on the colonel's face secreted any coming information. Doubt began to grow in her heart. Was she merely to receive the assignment to collect the DTB's and oversee their return to the reconditioning shops? In an instant, a painful fear of just such a thing erupted in her chest, constricting the muscles in her throat.

"Captain Sirion," Saleuo's stern address shook Sirion back to the moment, "these old 14's still are a long way from frontline fighters, but we have no choice when it comes to their use. These are high-risk machines in combat situations, and casualties among their pilots will be high. Still, the more flies for the flyswatter to smash, the more flies that will make it to the pudding."

The colonel rose and again turned away from Sirion. "Patch, I need an officer who is willing to lead such an inferior force into combat, no matter the odds nor the outcome, someone not taken by the emotion of the moment nor afraid of accepting the death of everyone in their charge, including him or her self."

He became silent. Soon all Sirion could hear were the motors of the clock on the wall and the beating of her own heart.

"Captain," Saleuo proposed, "I know you are a good pilot. I believe you will be a good leader. Will you accept my request to be senior officer over my two flights of old 14's?"

Sirion was speechless. The colonel's words were slowly sinking in. Senior officer over two flights in the squadron? That would place her third in command of that same squadron. She had hoped to be in the front lines, but to be in charge of two entire flights?

"Well?" the colonel asked, turning as he did so.

Sirion's surprised grin faded from her face. A tear was running down the man's cheek. The import struck her. Saleuo knew war was coming. He was fully aware of the powerful weapons the enemy possessed. In his mind, he had just asked Sirion to offer herself up to a future death and order it upon seven other pilots as well. She quietly reflected on what he just told her.

Grinning anew, Sirion jumped to her feet, extending her hand. "It will be my pleasure to accept such a command! Should I suffer such a fate as you feel has been cast upon me and others with me, I assure you, it will be with no small loss upon those who oppose us!"

Sadness did not disappear from the colonel's eyes. "Thank you. You are a beautiful person. May the wings of Cherubs guide you toward your destiny."

Terey made a sound as though she was clearing her throat. Both the colonel and Sirion looked at her. She stood and took hold of the girl, clutching her in an impassioned embrace. Finally letting go, she reached for a little package and, after opening it, pulled out a small golden pin made in the shape of two outstretched eagle's wings. In the oval center there was an etched design of a planet's rim with the sun breaking over it.

Terey mused, "I do so enjoy this picture..." pointing to the etching. "I drew this long ago and had it painted on my first fighter. Never have I seen a prettier sight than to watch the sun be reborn on a crystal clear morning." She sighed, momentarily lost in some private vision then shook her head as if clearing it of the wistful dream. "This is your senior pilot's insignia." Reaching again into the package, she removed cloth insignias and handed them to Sirion. "These are to be sewn on the sleeves and shoulders of your uniform and flight suit. On the bottom of each insignia are runes that, when translated, say 'Moon Chasers'. This is the name of our squadron. I hope you like it."

Sirion grinned, teary-eyed, as she thanked both Terey and Saleuo for the privilege of becoming a frontline pilot. "My heart is filled with a desire to repay upon my foes the gifts they so generously bestowed upon me. Should I die, it will be with the knowledge that my blows have not been delivered in futility."

Colonel Saleuo broke in. "May your dreams find fulfillment. Some unfinished business... In hangar twelve, on deck six, you will find the ships you're to command. Pick one for yourself so we can get it properly painted and fitted out."

"No!" Sirion's response startled both the colonel and Terey. The girl apologized. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I mean, may I request that the other pilots choose their fighters first? I will accept whichever one remains. And please, don't tell them it has been done this way."

"Very well..." Colonel Saleuo replied. "I will notify you when your ship is ready. In the meantime, there will be a meeting at 07:30 hours tomorrow of all the group's commanders including senior pilots, after which your squadron commander will introduce you to your junior officers. You have three weeks to get them into shape. Then we're moving east on war status."

The colonel walked around from behind his desk and hugged Sirion. She kissed him on his bearded cheek. Stepping back, he took the girl by her shoulders. "There's still a twinkle, you know. You make me proud."

Sirion backed up and saluted, "To victory or a quick death! And may it be our enemy's!"

Saleuo offered a sad sigh. "Yes. Yes. May it be our enemy's..."

* * *

"Do you understand me? I want this job finished and soon! That little bitch-woman is not going to give us trouble. Do what you need to get her. Do what you please with her as long as you don't kill her. Offer those monkeys of yours whatever they want. Just get her so I can leave this miserable place!" Godenn slid another bird's wing into his mouth. With a slurp, he pulled it from his lips, flinging the naked bone across the table.

Salak grinned, reaching for some roasted meat on a platter, asking, "I hear there may be one of those off-world creatures going to be traveling with her. Mind ...I say do you mind if I chance upon 'em, to have myself a little fun?"

"Do be careful, you!" Godenn snorted, as he grabbed hold of another bird wing. "That fellow will cut off your balls and serve 'em up hot for you! He's more dangerous than that witch-woman who's taken up being field marshal. I've seen into his eyes. The cold black of Hell is all was there. The cold black of Hell...."

"Not going religious on me now, are ya?" Salak chuckled. "I mean with the Therioskotia and all those other ghosts..."

Godenn's anger flared, his eyes wide. "Shut up, you, or I'll roast you for tomorrow's dinner! It's no laughing matter. Those things are real, I tell you! Too awful real!"

Salak pulled a piece of gristle from his mouth, sucking off the remaining flavor as it passed through his lips, grinning while wiping his hand across his mouth. Looking into Godenn's reddened face, he offhandedly replied, "There're lots of real things out there, my Lord. It's just, in my line of work, I got to keep all that stuff in perspective. Now I believe you when you say that little bitch-girl is one a' those Therioskotia." He patted Godenn on the arm. "But I think they can be put down. I think they can die!"

Godenn's eyes went wide again. "Nooo...!"

Salak reached for more meat. While chewing on another morsel, he offered, "Tried to kill herself, she did! Yup, right in front of everybody." He burped and hit his chest with the side of his fist. "After you ran...you went to check on other matters...that creature took a big knife and tried to stick herself. Poor thing fainted. Anyhow, seems to me if a Therioskotia couldn't die, it wouldn't try to kill itself." He swallowed. "And I've got other news, too..."

Godenn stopped reaching for another bird wing. "What? Tell me! What?"

"Well," Salak smiled like a Cheshire cat, "that little bitch-girl might be a Therioskotia, but she's also a real girl...youngest of Erithia's children, they say, and cracked in the head, too. Got her a close boyfriend, high up in the ranks. "

_(_ Author's note _: Zadar was, in fact, the youngest of the children. But Asotos and Godenn were not aware of Zadar's birth as it took place after the Rebellion started. Salak knew but chose to keep it a secret for the time being.)_

"Went out of her bonnet not long after bein' born." He waved a piece of meat toward Godenn. "Somethin' with the Rebellion and all..."

Godenn stared blankly at the half-filled platter. Salak smiled, slipped the meat between his teeth and happily grunted, "I've got eyes everywhere. They watch her all the time. Seems that Michael had her put aboard Shikkeron to do duty far away from trouble to keep her safe so to speak, just like she did Sirion." Salak let loose a wicked laugh while he rubbed his crotch. "She was good, wasn't she, General."

Godenn smiled back, thinking more about the beatings and tortures he heaped upon Sirion than the release of any lustful passions, then fussed, "That giant oaf was an off-world creature. He was strange." He pointed his two fingers toward his face. "His eyes had no fear, like he didn't know who I was or didn't care. Then Legion was threatened by him." Godenn shook his head. "They're dangerous, I tell you! That off-world creature with the girl, he took a steel bolt, you know. Point blank, right in the heart! I saw it!" He gripped Salak's arm. "Ardon's with her...the traitor, bastard! Erithia's cooking something up. I smell it. You keep a wary eye out. She's up to no good. If you're not watching, she'll throw your skinned hide into the pot, too!"

Salak's teeth filled his smile. "I know the old fool's aboard, know all 'bout it." His fingers on one hand involuntary closed tight, then slowly released. "He's where I want him...just where I want him." He put his hand over Godenn's and looked him in the eye. "I have those monkeys of mine in my hand. They'll do as I say. You just keep the trade goods comin' like you promised. I have a list of the colonies where Shikkeron's supposed to go in the Trizentine. I'll bring the bird into the trap. You just be there to spring it."

Godenn grunted in protest, "Don't tell me any lies! Things aren't right out there. I have my own eyes and needn't always rely on you. They tell me your monkeys are faltering. Ships aren't coming home and nobody knows why. Some of 'em are gettin' spooked." He pulled his hand away and stood. "You get back there and fix things up! The big man wants no mistakes and I won't take kindly to his electric prods because of you. If I go in the stew, you're goin' into the fire, understand?"

Salak's language was polite, but he seethed inside for being called a 'liar', warning, "The hunter who has to trust the falcon with his prey is wise to remain kind to it when on his arm. I'd like to believe you're jesting with me in good humor." He stared at Godenn, pulling a dirk from a sheath strapped to his leg. While slowly cutting another piece of meat from the large roast, he cautioned, "There are many ways a person could fail with this operation you've requested. If a man were to feel insecure about his value, or possibly threatened regarding his life...well, you know how much that could press on his mind. Mistakes might get made."

His dirk suddenly slipped as he cut, crashing to the platter, smashing the dish. Salak jumped back in surprise and exclaimed, "Oh, my! Sorry. I must have gotten distracted." He looked up at Godenn, expressing his sincerest apologies.

Godenn's shocked look was quickly masked by one of unconcern, but he had gotten the point. Wearing a broad, toothy smile, he jovially replied, "I warned the cook about using such fragile crockery. Of course I was joking! Never would I imply any harm to such a close and loyal friend and confederate. Still, the need for success is paramount to our own goals."

He walked a few steps away before turning back to address Salak. "Do what you wish with any off-world creature you may find. That girl and Ardon are the prizes that offer us greatest reward. Bring them to me and I shall allow you some personal time to settle your score with the man. Just don't damage him badly, for I think we might receive a huge reward from our Master if we deliver Ardon alive to him."

Salak slid the dirk back into its sheath and then stood to stretch, yawning. Taking advantage of the moment, he pressed, "I don't want to disappoint my monkeys, and I know you wouldn't, either. Maybe I should load my ship with some more supplies just to be sure I have sufficient goods to offer these ape-children. Oh yes, it would be so soothing to my mind if I should be able to share the evening with your lieutenant. He has such a way about him, you know."

Godenn was displeased with Salak's requests, but considering, grudgingly permitted them both. Salak thanked him and then, reaching into a huge waist pocket, removed a finely jeweled, soft leather purse with a gold hasp at the end of a wide cover flap. He handed it to Godenn. "A gift, my friend..."

Godenn's eyes lit up. As he fondled the supple material, he asked, "Where did you get this?"

Salak smiled, "Let's just say that the fellow who possessed that little pouch no longer has any need of it." He turned and, whistling, walked from the dining room.

* * *

There was an air of excitement aboard Admiral Lonche's' departure deck as work crews hustled to finish last minute duties, delivering final supplies or concluding other needed tasks. Darla stood near a loading tube, running down a checklist, comparing it to the items on the four dollies waiting delivery to Shikkeron. She was nearly finished with inspecting the third cart when a cheerful voice called out her name. Looking up, she saw Jebbson's smiling face. "There you are, my dear...er, Colonel Adaya." He grinned at his pretend attempt to correct some minor impropriety.

Darla paid little attention, caring even less for needless formalities than Jebbson. She set her checklist down and opened her arms, collecting her friend in a warmhearted embrace, finishing with a tender kiss on his lips. Stepping back, she asked, "So is my charge ready for departure and has he found his accommodations acceptable?"

Jebbson was unusually debonair in his reply. "Colonel, your charming presence fills my heart with such joy. If there had been any complaints, they are forgotten."

Darla studied Mihai's staff officer. The gentlemanly suit in which he was customarily attired had been replaced with a light gray military uniform trimmed in black. He wore no kepi or jacket, but he did have those complements in his tiny cabin, along with an officer's rapier. Still he was not unarmed. Holstered high on his side was a weapon he claimed was copied from one worn by Marine officers from his old world. It was a rather stubby, large bore hand gun that used bullets made of similar materials as those found in the shotgun he carried at the prisoner exchange.

In earlier conversation with Darla, he had described this side arm as a 'clip-fed semiautomatic', meaning that the weapon would discharge as rapidly as one could pull on the trigger located at the bottom base of the breach. When asked about it, Jebbson had said, 'Its design came from the Colt 1911, used very effectively against suicide attacks in the last big war back home.' He then added, grinning, 'It's been told, 'God created all men, but Colonel Colt made 'em equal',' laughing as he patted the weapon.

Darla looked up from the Colt, remembering all too well just how effective such a weapon could be, exclaiming, "It looks like you've come loaded for bear!"

Jebbson laughed, responding, "You do remember little sayings quite well...quite well." He changed the subject to matters pertinent to his current assignment. When satisfied that all was in order, he mentioned, "By the by, your admiral fellow, what's his name..." he winked, "wants to see you 'fore we leave. Sounded important to me. He's in the captain's lounge, going over some business. Said to tell you to come right in and interrupt. Acted serious about it..."

Darla's face clouded in curiosity and concern. She had been with Euroaquilo ever since Shikkeron rejoined the task force and had only departed his company this morning after the two had lingered, stealing for each other whatever last fleeting moments existed before departure. He was planning to see her off, but now he wished for her to meet with him in a more private place, secure from other ears and eyes. Her head sank in thought as she pondered such implications.

Observing, Jebbson offered, "Look, you go see what's up and I'll finish this stuff here."

Darla thanked him, showing what needed to be checked and how she was doing the inventory. Giving Jebbson a kiss on the cheek, she darted off to find answers to now troubling questions.

The elevators were slow and crowds exceptionally heavy. At least that's how it felt to Darla. Eventually she reached the opened door to the captain's lounge. Somewhat apprehensive, the woman entered. Instantly, she was greeted by Euroaquilo's hearty, warm voice. He motioned for her to follow as he turned and picked up a package on the table. The two disappeared into the captain's inner office and Euroaquilo closed the panel behind them.

Euroaquilo sat and asked Darla to take a chair beside him. His demeanor took on a gravity the girl had seldom seen in this man. He wasted little time getting to the point. "You and I are coming to a parting of the ways. I fear that it may be many long days before we shall again sing to each other our gentle love songs. The winds of change cause clouds to gather in front of my eyes, and I cannot see where the journey goes beyond them."

Darla reached out, stroking the side of Euroaquilo's bearded face, unable to understand the melancholy reflected in his eyes. "My Lord, do not fear my loss. I shall keep myself safe from harm. Trust me, I will be cautious."

A sad smile grew on Euroaquilo's face. 'What a wondrous person,' he thought. Looking into her eyes, he observed an innocence so childlike and carefree. Could he tell her of his recent dream? Would she even understand?

Euroaquilo closed his eyes but a moment, yet it was sufficient to recall the vision of the night. There, in the shadow of blackness, Darla was tumbling, ever tumbling into a fathomless void. Suddenly, the bony talons of some giant, winged beast appeared, rising up from the darkness below, spreading wide as they neared the girl, seeking to entrap her in their grasp. Out of the gloom, like some monster from the foaming depths, a hideous, horned dragon with a gaping mouth filled with dagger-like teeth rose to devour the naked child. Just as its talons began to close around her, the vision ended. Euroaquilo had bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding. He shook himself awake and reached, letting out a quiet sigh when he felt Darla's arm. She still rested peacefully beside him, her rhythmic breathing chasing the nightmare away.

He pondered the moment, wondering if any meaning lay hidden in the things he had seen. As he did, the memory of this woman's presence on the bridge of DusmeAstron the day they departed for the prisoner exchange filled his thoughts. Suddenly, silent words spoken then came back to him. 'It rests in your hands...'

No, it would be better to leave the dream hidden in the mist of his night visions, at least for now, until he came to grasp its full meaning. Euroaquilo cupped his hand over Darla's and gave a nod. "Yes, I'm sure you will be most careful." He bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Clearing his mind of the previous visions, Euroaquilo introduced other needed business. "It's good that you have Ardon traveling with you. Use him in whatever way serves your needs best. I believe he can be trusted with your darkest thoughts and dreams. The man will not betray you, even to yourself."

Darla's frown belied her doubting his comments. Euroaquilo understood and explained, "Ardon is an honest enough man to reveal the tricks your mind might play on itself, tricks that could delude you into making wrong choices. You need to carefully listen to the things he tells you." His voice became grave. "Continue to share your dreams, your secret ones with him. He does love you, you know. He really is very fond of you. That is something you must never forget. Your future may well depend on your trusting him."

Darla did not argue. Love her? She had trouble believing that. Love him? Never! Not at least the way she did others like Euroaquilo or Jebbson. But she would try to be more polite and kind. After all, she did really care for his well-being. And he had carried himself as a good officer on his recent tour of duty. In fact, it was for these very reasons she had requested his elevation in rank. Or was it more?

The girl thought about it a moment. He had changed. No, they both had changed. Not only had their dream shares protected her those many nights before returning to the fleet, but also part of each other's soul...spirit had been exchanged. Darla was beginning to see into Ardon's heart and he into hers. She wouldn't call what she now felt 'love', but there was a warm feeling growing within her and, for some obscure reason, she actually had a desire to be with him again.

Euroaquilo caused a break in her silent contemplation. "I am very pleased with Mihai's choice of that Jebbson fellow. He's an outstanding man, hasn't lived much more than the lifespan of those in the Second Realm, but possesses wisdom greater than many of our brothers. You can trust him to not cut and run in a fight. Seems he likes a good one almost as much as you..." He took a finger and pushed Darla's nose. "Almost as much as you!"

Darla couldn't help but giggle. The first day Euroaquilo was introduced to her, she was little more than a babe. While playing on his lap, he had teased her about the 'beauty of her button nose' and then he pushed it like he had just done. In all her years growing up, far into her late twenties, he would do the same especially when leaving on a journey.

The girl groaned, "You're not going away, are you?"

Euroaquilo cupped Darla's face in his giant hands and peered deeply into her eyes. "Going away? My DusmeAstron, not if I have any say in the matter. But you and I must depart and take separate roads for awhile. I don't know when those roads will bring us together again. May they eventually lead us to the peaceful fields of the crescent moon."

"Please," Darla's anxiety erupted, "don't speak to me of such sadness!" The song 'Enchantress Parting' echoed its ominous, haunting refrains in her mind and she became lost in the moment.

" _Who runs upon the heathered hills,_

Hidden by the shadowed moon so daunting?

'Tis the fleeting glimpse of the one I love,

For whose touch so long my heart has wanted.

Though I reach out to hold and soft caress,

And kiss with my lips in sweet tenderness,

The fleeting shadow runs ever on,

And leaves me hearing its haunting song.

' _Be off! Be off! For from the day I flee._

I go where you shall not follow me.

For I ride upon the crystal night,

Into the darkness, far from the blazing light,

Into a world cold and gray,

So very, very far away.'

' _Do not fear me gone, nor mourn my loss._

I rest for now in cool, damp moss.

But my heart still will linger near...

Close to the lover I hold so dear.

So close, my love, its beat you'll hear.

So close, dear lover, its beat you'll hear.'

My heart will journey again in peace,

For now it has heard the song once more,

Of the heart it so dearly loves.

The days may be many and the hours long,

But, when together again, we'll sing love's song.

May the hour come soon,

When we shall not depart

The golden fields of the Crescent Moon."

Darla shivered. "A chill wind ever blows upon my heart. Do not speak of such an evil day, for my heart cannot...should never bide such sorrow."

Euroaquilo apologized for disturbing Darla, then cautioned, "My Dusme, we are but the dust driven about by the winds of the storm. Where we settle down is not often our choice to make, but we decide our own fate once placed there. For myself, I choose never to leave your side. I am jealous over you and wish for you to be forever mine and mine alone."

He smiled while reaching down to take her hands, shaking his head. "But you and I know that is not the way it is to be. Me? I am but one of your mentors who has come into your life. There will be many more. Each of them you will eventually come to love with the same or even greater passion than you have for me. We shall one day part, not by my desire, but it is the way it must be. Something will find its way between us. Then you will have to move on to another who will lead you further along your road of destiny." Euroaquilo squeezed Darla's hands.

She let go and clutched Euroaquilo's arms, desperation welling up in her heart. "No! No, I cannot live without you! To be parted is one thing, for I can still seek you out. Mother knows I will die if you should leave for unreachable places. Promise me you will not murder your child, the one entrusted to you!"

Euroaquilo pled, "How can I promise you what is not mine to offer? We cannot add one cubit to our life span. Should the hourglass fall from the hook, will it not shatter? Who will save it in that moment? I cannot give life to you or myself."

In growing panic, the girl cried, "Then kill me now! Take my heart from its home and consume it into yourself. Allow me to dwell with your spirit, for there I will rest in comfort and peace."

Euroaquilo's voice was gentle, but his words scolding. "That's enough of such folly! You're a child of the evening, knowing not good or bad. Listen and learn! You have been given to me, a father over you, to raise you up and teach you to become who you are destined to be. Have my efforts been wasted on a stupid girl or have you learned from my wisdom? We stand on the edge of all matters. The Fates may swing life either way. Do you not understand the purpose of the One who has gathered us to this place? We obey the song of another, you and I. Our souls we gave away long ago. Do you wish to take yours back and recant your sacrifice?"

His words struck the girl like a lightning bolt on a clear day. Ashamed, Darla turned her head away. Feeling as she had that day the two stood aboard DusmeAstron, the child begged, "Forgive me, Mother, for dumb and blind I entered into this world and dumb and blind I remain."

Euroaquilo's huge arms encircled the woman, pressing her close so that she rested her ear on his chest. For several moments, she listened to the quiet rhythm of his heart. Finally, the girl muttered, "Oh, my darling, why does love hurt so? I feel so empty when you're absent. How will I survive should tragedy consume the one I love?"

After allowing some time for Darla to calm her heart, Euroaquilo began to explain. Still holding her tight, he revealed, "You are but a child of this New Age. What is that, maybe six millennia? I have seen star systems come and go and have come to love many people almost as much as I do you. In this war, I have watched some of them leave for the Field of the Minds, and their broken bodies I have buried in the sands of time. To survive, I must not think them gone, but only sleeping until I make a new home for them, a place where they will not be at risk from harm again. It keeps me sane to think that way when I consign others to the fires of Hell."

He released his hold and gently pushed Darla back to arm's length, his misty eyes peering into hers as he caringly smiled, "You are a colonel now. Your mouth will consign many to those same fires. No longer will you only kill the enemy, you will also slaughter your friend and lover. That's your job. You accepted it. They now call you 'Adaya, Queen of the Darkness and of the Blood'. Do you think Commodore General Planetee's vision regarding you was given her for entertainment? No, no, my dear one. Destiny rings it bells clear for you. Your journey's end is still far in the distance."

"And what of your destiny?" Darla anxiously quizzed. "What song do the bells give you?"

Euroaquilo laughed, "Depend on me! Should I have to go, it will not be quietly!" Grinning and waving his arms about, he continued, "I will light up the heavens in my wrath and set it ablaze in flaming glory! Friend and foe will be consumed in my rage and I will ignite storm's fury!" Then nodding, he mused, "They will write songs about me, 'Euroaquilo, the Stormwind!' I think that very fitting for a man of my name and stature." He sang, "and the mountains did shake and oceans rolled as the rage of Stormwind in fury did blow!'" He laughed again. "Well, I guess I'll leave such song writing to those with some talent."

Darla couldn't help but laugh with Euroaquilo. This giant of a man had such power over her heart. He could bring joy to it on the gloomiest occasions. She reached out and hugged him with all her strength. It felt good, so good. The woman wished this moment would never end. It was not to be.

Euroaquilo interrupted her dreamy desires. "We have other business to discuss, and time is ever fleeting." He politely backed away and reached over to pick up the package that had been placed on a nearby desk. Extending it toward Darla, his eyes began to twinkle. "This is from Mother. She says you inadvertently left it aboard your ship after the prisoner exchange. She also adds that it needed some mending, so she fixed it up a bit."

Darla's face filled with a curiosity that only grew as she opened the package. After unwrapping many layers of silken paper covered with artfully styled runes and colored pictures, she pulled out a sheathed blade of most astounding beauty. There is little need to describe this weapon in detail, for many can attest to its workmanship and grandeur. Its name is 'Phulakee the Watcher' and it sits encased in a column of solid crystal that separates the two entrance doors to the War Museum at Poorhs in the southern district of Oros across from the Muushange River Landing. It is said the dagger's Cherub guards the treasures found there so that no one without authority may touch the relics resting within the museum.

(Author's note: _For those who have not seen it, let these few words suffice. Its general appearance is closest to that of a falcata. The blade has a single, sharp edge with a crescent-shaped back that curves down toward a sharp point. The blade grows bulbous for a third of its way back from its point, narrowing in breadth in a reverse radius sweep until meeting the handle. There is no noticeable quillon, the blade being full tang with a gold, jewel-inlaid hilt. The flat handle is made of two primary parts riveted together through the tang that is sandwiched between them. The blade length is that of a_ _long cubit_ _, the combined length with the handle being slightly longer than that of a man's forearm, from elbow to the end of the middle finger._

The scabbard's appearance is plain and ordinary - black leather encasing acacia wood, modestly trimmed in chrysolite and gold. Adaya has described it as 'comforting, like a companion giving solace on a bitter eve', it always feeling warm to the touch even in the coldest weather. I trust her word, for no other soul save Lowenah, its Creator, has had the power to possess or wield the weapon.)

Darla's eyes were bedazzled by the dagger's beauty. It drew her hand toward the hilt, begging her to release the blade from its prison. She wrapped her fingers around the grip and instinctively pulled the short sword free.

At first, she saw the distinctive blue-green flame of a derker blade, except the fire pulsated with a more intense energy. Suddenly, a white-hot flame within the metal itself roared to life, its ghostly energy moving excitedly up and down the length of the weapon. Darla stared in disbelief. She cried, aghast, "It's the angel of God in it!" Her eyes became transfixed upon the fire. The smoldering light pulsated up and down in a harmonic rhythm that was almost hypnotic. The girl gasped, "It sings to me a lullaby, soothing to my soul! It comforts my spirit."

Euroaquilo reached out to examine the dagger more closely. With a crackling hiss, the fire jumped to life, static flame shooting out from the blade in his direction. "It bit me!" he cried, quickly withdrawing his hand, examining his fingers.

Darla was at first shocked and then a smile grew on her face. She stood as if listening to some song or soft cooing. Finally she requested, "Do be good and let the kind man have a look at you." Again she listened and then handed the weapon, hilt first, toward Euroaquilo, offering, "Go ahead. It won't hurt you now."

Cautiously, Euroaquilo, the admiral of the Third Fleet and protector of the territories, reached out and accepted the blade. Instantly, the fire departed and the blue-green flame died. Still he could feel the presence of someone or something not taking kindly to his touch. He quickly studied the engravings and examined the bejeweled handle, then handed it back to Darla. "It was meant for you," he remarked, somewhat humbled and still smarting from the experience. "You're its master. Whatever it is, it's not really too fond of me."

The blue-green flame jumped back to life and the pulsating, static fire returned to its merry dance. Darla again concentrated on the blade as if in conversation. After some time, she looked up at Euroaquilo and exclaimed, "Its name is 'Phulakee'. It is my cherub, sent to protect me until I stand in the 'light of God'...whatever that means." She reached out with her left hand to touch the blade.

Euroaquilo started, "Do be care..." He was shocked at how she fondled it, running her fingers along the sharp edge, lovingly stroking it as though it was alive.

Darla grinned mischievously, "Watch this..." With that, she turned the blade, point first, and drove it into her heart. Euroaquilo let out a cry, but Darla did not fall in death. She laughed and slowly pulled the blade away.

When Euroaquilo finally caught his breath, Darla told him to watch, again. With that, she took the weapon and slowly pressed it into her hand. As she pushed, the blade appeared to be sinking in her flesh, but the point did not exit. "See," she exclaimed, "it melts into itself, clear to the hilt."

"What good is it then?" Euroaquilo puzzled.

Darla looked up at Euroaquilo and said, "Its spirit is not allowed to harm me, but it will do all that it must to protect me." With that, she tapped the chair with the flat of the blade, grinning, "Trust me, it is dangerously real."

Euroaquilo was filled with curiosity. Still, he rubbed his tingling fingertips. "I trust Mother did well with you. It should serve you in your hour of need. But watching your antics with that weapon makes me realize that you would not have been successful taking your life the night of the prisoner exchange. Isn't Phulakee the same blade you possessed that night?"

Darla thought a moment then her eyes lit up. "Why, yes! I believe you're right. That explains why Mother said I left it behind. She crafted it into a different shape, but it is still the same one. More importantly, it's the same Cherub within it."

Euroaquilo went on to give Darla some added information about the creation of the cherubs. "When I was a child living in the Palace, Mother told me that long before she gave life to any of her children, she had made the Cherubs. She said they were intelligent, more so than ourselves, and they could think and reason. She said that some had certain likes and dislikes. I asked to see one and she only laughed, telling me that we could only see them when they took on some shape, using the elements and harmonics of our world."

Darla slid Phulakee back into its sheath. It locked with a snap. She handed it to Euroaquilo, who cautiously accepted it. After a moment of scrutiny, he tried to pull it from its sheath. "I see it will not allow another person to remove it," nodding in reflection. "It is your companion and yours alone. Keep it close, for I believe it has been given you for your protection."

Darla agreed. "I saw words in my mind. They said I can call it and it will come to me. It's like the crown Mother gave our sister, Mihai. My touching it has transferred its reality into my mind, where it now resides. What you see in your hand is only the tool that is made from the harmonics and elements you mentioned. The life, if that's what one can really call it - for I perceive something other than a Cherub giving it breath - its life resides in me."

She lingered a moment in thought, adding, "Phulakee dwells within and that blade is the vehicle that it uses to express itself without. Somehow, though, on the inside, I feel like I am not alone. I now have a silent companion - a willing servant, you might say - someone who waits to assist me with my needs. It seeks to please, not control." She looked with curiosity at Euroaquilo, pondering, "Is that really the way with Cherubs? Can they reside within us?"

Euroaquilo smiled and nodded, "That's what I was going to explain. Do you recall a little girl who came to play when you were a child, and she was always your age?"

Darla thought a moment. Suddenly, long-forgotten memories came to mind. Her eyes lit up with delight. "Yes! Yes, I do."

"I believe..." replied Euroaquilo, "that was really your 'angel' as the Cherubs were often called. You see, at least as Mother explained it to me, at birth each of her children was given a cherub for protection and guidance." He spread his arms. "Oh, she has lots and lots of these 'cherub machines' as you call them - all different kinds, with all different powers. My older siblings called all of Mother's invisible creations 'cherubs'.

"I don't know if this Phulakee is an ordinary cherub, or one of the race of ancient people that are often called 'Cherubs', and I don't know which kind of cherub resides in us, but I believe the kind she put in her children is instructed to work in very specific ways, so as to not take away any of our freedoms.

"For most of us, after leaving the Palace, the cherubs faded from our memories. I have never noticed mine since the sunny day I threw the little ball into the woods and my companion ran after it, shouting 'good bye' as he did."

He looked at the sheathed blade he was still holding. "It has been said that every living person has had – or, at least at one time had - one of these angels within them. Even those in the Second Realm possess them...something about the Web of the Mind and all. I have been told that when a child rebels, the cherub leaves, making them feel a certain emptiness inside." He hefted the blade. "I feel that what you perceive as being a second presence is that there now resides more than one cherub within your soul. Maybe Phulakee is newly arrived."

Euroaquilo sadly shook his head. "Our brother, Asotos, had greater powers than any other child. In some way, he learned how to manipulate his cherub. Maybe it was a gift from mother. I don't know. When he became evil, he altered the cherub's composition. A part of that warped machine is what he injected into Mihai, and that is what also now resides in you."

Darla shuddered at the thought. Euroaquilo placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think this Phulakee has been delivered to provide help for you with all this. Should that be the case, you need to learn how to trust it and use it." He set the sheathed sword on his palms and extended his arms. "Allow me to return to you, Queen Adaya, your sword, Phulakee." He bowed his head in honor.

The girl's face flushed and she mumbled something about Euroaquilo acting silly. He leaned forward and again kissed her on the forehead. They talked about some private matters for a few moments then Euroaquilo returned to the business at hand.

He requested Darla to sit. Reaching into an inner pocket, Euroaquilo pulled out a folded map and spread it out on his lap. Pointing to a distant colony in the Trizentine, he cautioned, "We can only give you cover as far as QuinStinre. Beyond that, our forces become stretched too thin. The fleet is going to start to drift its patrol into the Outer Corridor, following you. Outriders will shadow Shikkeron, and I have ordered the Third Fleet's left wing to push the newly commissioned imperial barquentine, Divulsion, and three cutters out ahead of you. Now be careful and mention this to no one."

He lowered his voice. "I believe you are a target. From the information I've gathered, it appears a large enemy fleet hides somewhere near the Outer Corridor, waiting for something. And I believe Godenn is there." He sighed, "and he's there for one reason only...that's to get you."

Darla lowered her head, folding her hands in her lap. "I know..." she whispered. "I can feel it. The monster in my head keeps calling out to something or someone." Deeply concerned, she looked up at Euroaquilo. "I should leave this place, return home, maybe to the palace. I risk all the people I'm near, all the people I love."

"No! No!" Euroaquilo warned her against doing that. "Your destiny...no, the destiny of all of us lies out there. We are being drawn into a vortex of time and space that demands each of us to play whatever part we have been assigned. Many times I have dreamed dreams. A wall of darkness blocks my path, but I must still take it. No! You must also stick to your path and seek out whatever destiny awaits you. I have seen that your life hangs in the balance."

Darla closed her eyes and bowed her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. She answered in a hush, "Yes, but I dread that it is such a cruel destiny..." For some time she just sat, eyes closed, her breathing soft and steady. Finally, the girl looked up, her eyes begging 'please hold me'.

What do two souls share in moments so tender, so intense? Are those feelings so sacred that even these many ages since will not allow such secrets to be revealed? It is said that time is a great healer and that the pain of parting is soon forgotten. That may well be the case. Yet, down to this day, the secrets of that hour remain locked in two hearts that beat as one.

The quiet solitude lasted far into the morning, the inevitable separation of hearts being delayed as long as possible. Eventually, the two emerged from their cherished seclusion onto the hustle and bustle of the departure deck.

As they walked hand in hand toward Shikkeron's entrance tubes, Darla heard Leftenant Ilanit call out to her. "Colonel Adaya, I was becoming concerned." As Darla approached, she added in a more subdued voice, "The captain's not in a pleasant mood...having to wait, you know. He's complaining that if we don't leave soon, we'll miss our window into the jump portal. It'll be eleven hours until the next one."

Darla expressed her appreciation. "Thank you, Leftenant Ilanit **.** Please see to it that the captain is informed I have arrived and shall be aboard shortly."

Ilanit acknowledged the request and hurried off to deliver the news. Darla turned to Euroaquilo, who had remained politely silent, motioning over her shoulder, "That's Ilanit. Do you know her?"

As Euroaquilo's eyes followed the woman, he replied, 'No..."

Darla smiled. "Ilanit was on Mihai's staff. She and Anna offered the leftenant's expertise in assisting me after I was given a major's commission. Ilanit was with me when we confronted the intruder on Shikkeron our first day here."

Euroaquilo smiled back. "It sounds like you have a lot of friends watching out for you."

Darla grinned, agreeing, "They are all so kind. Look," she pointed, "Mihai gave me this jade pendant, Anna this necklace, and Terey this chrysolite eyebrow pin and these black-diamond ear pins."

Euroaquilo just shook his head. "My, my, just a walkin' gift shop." He suddenly raised his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, "I almost forgot!" He dug into his shirt pocket. "Mother sent this along to give you as congratulations for your promotion to colonel. Here, give me your hand."

Darla looked puzzled but still extended her hand, saying nothing. Euroaquilo grasped it with his giant fingers and pulled off the black onyx ring she wore, replacing it with a multicolored one. "There," he grinned, "Mother said to care for it well and learn its worth. You are aware of the powers such a ring like this possesses, right?"

Darla cried, "This is a gift of greater value than a hundred blades! What have I done to deserve such treasures?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. But it's true there are few of Lowenah's children who have ever received one as glorious." Euroaquilo's expression waxed grave. "Power beyond normal has been given you. It is not out of idle pleasantries that such has been bestowed. Mother is quite judicious in handing out such wonderful presents. I'm afraid you will need every tool offered you to successfully pass through the coming storm. And there is a storm coming. You have wisdom, my child of the evening, my DusmeAstron. Use it to its full measure."

At that moment, a disgruntled Captain Bedan appeared. "Are we going, Colonel," Bedan asked in polite exasperation, "or should I cool the boilers, stand down the crew, and wait for our next window?"

Bedan's impatient tone and curt questions startled but did not surprise Darla like it did Euroaquilo. She had noticed a definite irritation growing between her and the captain ever since the MoonDust incident. Her promotion to colonel only increased the tension. Her duties aboard Shikkeron would last maybe another two to three months, and Bedan's primary responsibility would be to chauffeur his guests from one colony to another with Darla giving the real orders.

Euroaquilo was about to offer mild chastisement, but Darla gave him a quick glance that asked him not to. She turned to Bedan, put a hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Forgive me, Captain. I am out of line. There was some personal business I got caught up in and I lost track of time. I will be on the bridge with you in five minutes, if that is acceptable to you."

Bedan's irritation eased in his voice and his reply was less icy. "Thank you, Colonel. I will prepare for cast off." He saluted. "See you on the bridge," then turned and hurried away.

"I can replace him, you know," Euroaquilo suggested, his hackles still up.

"No, please let it go." Darla took Euroaquilo's hand. "We're all under stress these days. Not everyone's pleased I've been promoted and maybe with good reason. I think Bedan's tired...tired of being overlooked. I know the feeling."

Euroaquilo frowned, "He's not lived up to a promotion, not yet, at least. Sometimes I don't trust his abilities even with that old hulk."

Darla countered, "Many have been the people who felt...still feel the same about me. Were they right? Maybe... Did it change how I saw things? Not at all." She then made a request. "Let it go and tell no one about this, please, for me. For good or bad, life or death, he and I ride together into whatever destiny awaits us. Should we live, it shall be together. Should we die, it will be as one."

Euroaquilo slowly shook his head in dismay. "If that's how you want it. What can I say?" He peered deeply into Darla's eyes. "Do be careful, my Love. Danger awaits you and surrounds you. Who is your friend or enemy, I do not know. Ardon and Jebbson were both at the last council meeting. Trust them. They will not betray you."

The two kissed and Darla stepped back to leave. "I nearly forgot!" she exclaimed. Pulling some letters from her inner shirt, she asked, "Would you send these for me, please? I've been so long out of touch with my friends." Darla handed the letters to Euroaquilo. "I promised to write. Here's one for Mihai and another for Anna." She sorted through a few others, reading off names. "Ishtar...please don't forget her. And here's one for Terey."

Euroaquilo took the little bundle of letters. Shuffling through them, he made some comments, pausing when he got to Terey's. "Don't know when she will get this one." Darla appeared puzzled. Euroaquilo explained, "Terey got in a big tussle with Mihai and took off in a huff. Heard she's leading some squadron in the First Fleet. Not sure, though. Hear she's got a chip on her shoulder big as a barn. Hasn't talked to Mihai since she walked out of her council meeting. Some people are wonderin' what's up? Still, hell of a good pilot. Wish she'd come here." He nodded, "I'll make sure she gets it...promise..."

Red lights started flashing and buzzers began to bleat, warning stragglers to clear the boarding tubes. Darla hugged Euroaquilo one last time. "I love you!" she shouted above the din, hurrying off and disappearing down the nearby exit.

Euroaquilo raised his hand and gave a half wave as the girl vanished from sight. "I love you, too..." he sighed in a subdued voice.

Darla watched out a porthole on the bridge as Shikkeron slowly parted company from the other ships. The majestic Admiral Lonche, largest carrier in the Third Fleet, was silhouetted against the starry sky. Stretching out and beyond it was the fleet's main body, some ninety ships strong, with Oruomai, the Admiral's flagship, off in the distance. The serenity of the moment and the image of their peaceful departure became burned into the woman's mind. A page in history was about to turn, changing her world forever. Never again would Darla see such sights without remembering this day of departure.

(Author's note: _War is no romantic. It cares not for love or life. Because war is so fickle, most heroes go unsung and their stories untold. It is left up to the ones who survive to declare the valor of such ones. So it was with the Third Fleet. Its part in the war was short-lived, but filled with sacrifice and bravery not gone unnoticed or forgotten. Still, those stories must be saved for another book and another day, for time does not permit such revelations now, other than save the things pertinent to this ongoing account. Until that time, you will have to satisfy your minds with the '_ _Euroaquilo Chronicles_ _', written by_ _Queen Adaya_ _. She provides added insight into the history of this stalwart fleet and its fearless crews.)_

* * *

Ishtar was nearly beside herself with excitement. In a short while Lowenah's ship would be settling down in a forest glade at the drop-off site near the girl's home, her old city. Lowenah had tried to dampen the child's excitement, helping her prepare for the reality soon to be revealed but Ishtar would have nothing to do with it. She finally shrugged and offered one last word of caution, and then tempered it with a command.

Gripping Ishtar's arms, Lowenah began, "Even the desert appears luxurious at dawning, and its magical lakes can lead you on a fool's errand. In the end, the treasures rediscovered may be more bitter than sweet with the price paid for purchasing them far exceeding their worth." She shook her head, sadly lamenting, "My dear child, you do not yet believe the countless hours you have slept. Things are different. Your old world is no more. Do be careful. There are times to be as cautious as a serpent."

"Oh, no," Ishtar exclaimed, "I understand completely! I really do!"

Lowenah frowned and pointed toward Ishtar's head. "You believe it here," she then poked the girl in the chest, "but you refuse to accept it there."

Ishtar became flustered, arguing the issue.

Lowenah pressed a finger to the girl's lips. "Shush, that's enough!" she scolded. "You hide no secrets from me. I know every fiber of your soul." She lowered her head as sadness returned. "I am sorry to do this to you, my child, but there is no time left." She withdrew her hand from the girl's shoulder, turned and walked away.

Treston, who had been patiently standing nearby, stepped up behind Ishtar and gently rested a hand on her shoulder, calling after Lowenah, "I will take care of her. No harm will come to our girl this day."

Lowenah turned around, smiling sadly, slowly shaking her head. "Treston, my son, you have been delivered here because I have known there is nothing you wouldn't do for this child. But the harm I speak of is an inner pain...a pain so great it will make the heart wish to burst from agony. Can you save my daughter from that?"

Treston promised, "A companion I shall become. It is true, the cold of the night I cannot prevent, but I may be able to offer some shelter from it."

Ishtar was so surprised by Treston's reply and comforted by his reassuring support, stirring memories in her heart of the protective love of her father, it brought tears to her eyes.

Lowenah returned to Ishtar and Treston. She tenderly stroked Treston's arms as she searched his eyes. "It is but as yesterday when the dark hour took her and it is coming again. You have seen it in your dreams." She patted his arm and lowered her eyes. "Do not attempt a coup. What must be must be. You have promised me to look after her soul," she looked up into his eyes, "but you must allow her spirit to run free. May you succeed."

Ishtar was baffled by Lowenah's statement and sought an explanation. Lowenah stopped her. "Enough, my daughter! You will understand soon enough." She then took the girl's hands in hers. "I have seen this day from afar and have regretted its coming. Today you shall die, but today death will not protect you as it did before. Yet it is through death that you will regain the past and those whom you love. May your heart still love me after you have wandered the foreboding road I've assigned you." She gave Ishtar a hug. Just then, the three felt a slight jolt. Lowenah looked up, sighed, and smiled. "Well, your journey is about to begin."

They exited an opened passage door in the ship, descending the stairs into the large clearing. The moon still haunted the morning sky, providing a ghostly light to see by. Walking some distance away, Lowenah finally stopped and looked around. "It has been nearly two millennia since I've been here and it was so different then."

Lowenah directed Ishtar and Treston to a spot in the clearing surrounded by some scattered boulders. Motioning with her hand, she drew their attention to one corner of the clearing. "There...that's where your blood sister, Darla, nearly died assisting you with your trials. And over there" she then pointed toward the rocks, "my daughters, Periste and Sirion, fell wounded near those stones, Sirion saving Gabrielle's life in the process. My other daughters Michael, Ehleenohr, Depais, and my sons, Chisamore, Avdiel, Tzidohn...my children stood the line against the man who forced your murder. I confronted him over there." She pointed into the shadows then looked at Ishtar. "They all offered their lives up for you...for me that day. Your valor, bravery, and loyalty at that time made you a hero in their eyes." She looked away toward the glow beyond the hills. "It will be peaceful today...no soldiers, no beasts, no beatings." Turning to peer into Ishtar's eyes, Lowenah's took on a fiery glow. "Still, be wary because the Dragon's wrath awaits you!" She pointed toward Ishtar's heart. "It hides in there and seeks your destruction. Do not forget the things I have shown you here."

The three left the glade and wandered past the forest away from the ship. As they cleared the trees, the crest of the sun was just beginning to rise over the hills. Lowenah drew the two close. "The Realm Below is beginning to see morning. I have gifted you both, for never have I granted permission to another of your kind to return in the flesh to that realm. Be careful, for men will be able to see you, you being like them. Treston, protect my daughter, because beautiful she is and may attract unwanted attention. If you stay with her, she will remain safe."

Lowenah advised Ishtar, "I have instructed Treston as to your journey today. Trust him, for he knows what to do. I wish for this to be a pleasant day." With that last comment, Treston and Ishtar felt a strange tingling sensation and the world around them fuzzed into blackness.

Time could not be measured as to how long their journey took other than the sun was still not up when they discovered themselves standing on a cobblestone street outside a little café.

Ishtar gasped at the sights, and then gasped again in amazement looking down at her appearance. No longer naked, she was wearing a loose-fitting, sleeveless, cottony dress with splashes of bright, exotic flowers dancing upon a silky-white, flowing material. The knee-length garment covered sheer stockings that she could feel come midway up her thighs and were held up by some kind of an elastic device fastened around her waist. On her feet was the strangest of footwear, low-platform slip-on shoes of sorts. A flowery, silk scarf finished her attire. She was about to comment when, turning, she viewed Treston. Her mouth opened in surprise.

Seeing her expression, Treston looked down and it nearly took his breath away. He was wearing a neat pair of light brown pants with a wide red stripe ascending the outside of each leg. On his feet were black leather boots, their tops hidden by the cuff of the pants. He also was attired with a white dress shirt, black tie, and a brown jacket with strange markings on the shoulders and a red stripe on each arm. In one hand he carried an officer's kepi, and strapped to his left side was an ornate dress sword.

Treston exclaimed, "Well! Well! Lowenah did say if you stayed near me, you'd be safe. This looks like a uniform of some kind. Exactly what or whose, I don't know."

A light went on inside the café. Treston asked if Ishtar was as hungry as he was. She nodded. He grinned, "Well, I guess we'd better make eating our first priority."

Treston opened the bottom half of the double door entrance to the café, the top already being locked back. As the two entered the dining room, a middle-aged man sitting in the corner looked up from some vegetables he was preparing. Treston smiled hello. The man's eyes grew large and he jumped up crying, "Good...good morning, Colonel! What a surprise to see you! I'm sorry I was not prepared. I didn't expect such a great guest." He hurried over to them and nervously requested, "Please...please allow me to show you a seat," then with a note of fear, asked, "you did come for a meal?" The man fidgeted with his towel as he waited for an answer.

Treston had seen this all too often during his life. He had been an important officer in the legions and later for the governor. Back then, it pleased him to see such groveling on the part of the common people, but now it made him sad. He reached out and patted the man on the shoulder. "Yes, we have come here to dine. I have been told that you make an excellent meal and that if we ever came this way, to stop for a feast of delights."

Hesitatingly, the man replied, "I am your servant. Whatever I have is yours to enjoy. Please, allow me to seat you and your..."

Treston thought a moment and then whispered to Ishtar, "How old do I look?"

She glanced at him and whispered back, "Oh, maybe twenty-five or so. How do I look?"

Treston smiled and whispered, "Beautiful..." He turned his attention back to the man, offering, "This is my bride, Dianna. We are on...what do you call it? Oh yes, we are on honeymoon." He smiled at Ishtar, who felt a little uncomfortable about what the man was told, but she said nothing. Though still somewhat nervous, the man grinned and, spreading his arms, gave some kind of a blessing on their marriage and wished them many healthy children. He then led them to a table.

There were no other diners arriving during their breakfast. Treston managed to get the man to relax enough to tell them some of the local gossip and stories, pretending to be a stranger in this place. It took some convincing, but he did manage to leave some of the silver coins he found in his pocket to pay for the meal. He also took care to praise the man for his outstanding cooking. With a huge grin, the innkeeper introduced his family to the couple, offering to provide whatever services he could to Treston for the day.

Treston thanked him and asked if he would direct them to an animal taxi. The man excitedly gestured to his youngest son and told him to hurry to the livery down the hill. In twenty minutes or so, they heard the clip-clop of donkey's hooves and the jingle of riding bells. Treston and Ishtar excused themselves, thanking the man and his family for their kindness. He then took the man's hand and offered, "May the God of our forefathers watch over your hearts."

A grin grew from ear to ear on the innkeeper's face. "Thank you! Oh, thank you, Colonel! You are a good man."

Treston thanked him and quickly turned away to assist Ishtar onto the seat of the cart. He couldn't help the small tear that fell from his eye.

In moments, the two were traveling south from Selcuk, heading for the far eastern end of Ephesus. Another man, about the age of the café owner, led the donkey down the ancient road. Treston noticed that the fellow couldn't help sneaking looks at the girl sitting beside him. He wondered to himself just how safe they would be if the people didn't fear him so.

As they went along, the man chattered away about the history of the city they were nearing. Treston cautioned Ishtar to be careful about saying anything to the man if he spoke incorrectly about different matters. "It is better we remain silent, saving our comments for our private conversations."

The sun's crimson ball was lazily casting its wake-up call across the ruins of the ancient city when the cart came to a stop near a group of small, abandoned stone buildings. Their guide cheerfully called out, "Our first stop is the tomb of Saint Luke." He made some kind of a sign, touching his forehead and then chest, and finishing by touching first the left, then right side of his shoulder. Ishtar started to blurt out a question, wondering what the man was doing.

Treston touched her hand, indicating she remain silent. He stepped down and assisted Ishtar from the cart, her dress and shoes making it difficult for her to, as she said, "do anything dignified at all." Wishing to walk now, Treston thanked the man for his assistance and offered some coins for the ride. At first the man resisted, but with much prodding, he grudgingly accepted. Treston then asked if the man could arrange a motor taxi be made available for them later in the day. With that, they parted company. Soon the two sojourners were alone on the street.

"Well..." Treston said, his folded fists pressed against his sides, elbows out, "time to take in the sights."

Ishtar looked around. Here and there were signs explaining what they were supposed to be viewing. With a note of displeasure, she asked, "Well, where are we anyway? I thought we were going to Ephesus!"

Treston turned and smiled, sweeping his arm through the air. "Welcome to Ephesus, my Dear, one of the greatest cities of the ancient world!"

"This is not possible!" Ishtar cried. "This is a place of decay and wreckage, forlorn hope and dismay! Ephesus is grand and majestic, proud and beautiful!"

Treston agreed, "Oh yes, it was. I close my eyes and can see its beauty, hear it sounds, and smell its scents and aromas." He opened his eyes again. "But that's all gone. I have studied its history and examined pictures. What you see are the last remnants of that wonderful city."

Ishtar's heart sank, her voice filled with dismay. "It cannot be! Not my beautiful city! My home, my beautiful home..." she began to softly cry. "My mother...oh, my mother!"

Treston slipped his hand over hers. "Come, my Dear. Let's see what we can find of the old days...our days."

They gradually made their way to what was called 'Curetes Street' and then slowly walked up past the temple of Domitianus, the Water Palace and the state Agora. Other places and names came and went - buildings and names strange to a girl who thought she knew every part of her city. Treston explained that the city had outlived them by over a thousand years. Very little remained of the buildings of their day. From his studies, he thought he had found where the governor's palace once was, and possibly where Ishtar's house had been, but little else had he identified.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Ishtar spied a familiar sight. Could it really be? Was it? She hurried toward some huge stone arches. Stopping short, she stared up at the vaulted ceilings that made up the arches. With tears streaming down her face, she called back to Treston, "The Mazaeus & Mithridates Gates...the gates to the marketplace!"

Treston stepped up next to the girl. She reached for his hand. With tears still streaming down her face, she explained, "My father did business in the market all the time. He had a stall in there. On regular market days, he would bring me through these gates to the wonders beyond. I helped with little things, but played most of the time. He made board games for me. I had my dolls, too. It was so much fun." She hung her head, sadly frowning. "I rarely came here after he got sick and died. It was too hard for me."

With Treston's encouragement, they passed through the gates into the Agora. Ishtar found little there that reminded her of her childhood. With some effort, she was able to discern the approximate location of the small three-walled room or stall her father had done business out of. Treston looked around, remembering things much differently than the girl did. He recalled the exotic animals, handsome slaves, finery from all over the world, and the women. Oh yes, the women! Every pleasure...some might say 'vice' known to humans could be obtained within the confines of the Agora. To pass the time, he and his fellow officers would wander here for some entertainment.

Treston's attention soon returned to his companion. Ishtar was no longer crying, but sadness still shone on her face. He tried to cheer her up. "I think I know where your house used to be." He led the girl back through the gate and looked off toward the south. "After you...er...left, I searched out where you lived. For the rest of my life here, every time I visited the market, I would stop and look a little to the south and east for your home. Then I would say a little prayer, asking for your forgiveness."

Ishtar peered into Treston's eyes and saw extreme regret...regret that only comes from a long-troubled heart. She didn't understand why, but felt a need to address such sorrow. She reached up and turned his face toward hers. Looking up into his sad, tear-filled eyes, she whispered, "I do forgive you, if there is any forgiveness due."

Treston thanked her, replying, "I pray you are able to tell me so by the end of our journey." He then directed the girl over to the gate's west corner and pointed to the place he remembered. After giving it close scrutiny, the two trudged toward the location.

Unlike spots that had been excavated, the place Treston believed to be Ishtar's old home was overgrown with grasses and weeds. It felt like hours passed before they came near the area. Nothing at all looked familiar. But when the girl took in the sights to the north, she felt they were very close. She pointed and shouted, for Treston was standing some distance away, "When I was little, I would watch for my father while standing at the corner of our roof. I could see the gate from there and always knew when my father was coming." She turned toward Treston, holding her hand high above her head. "He always wore a huge peacock feather dyed red in his turban. He liked turbans." She looked back toward the gate. "It's nearly as I remember it. We must be very close."

For another half hour, the two searched around the general location. When they finally returned to Curetes Street, it was with the satisfaction of feeling the house's location had been rediscovered or at least walked over.

The morning was passing along and with it came renewed desire to eat. They found a vendor selling some tourist food. It satisfied their hunger, but both felt it did little else. When finished, they headed north up what was then called the 'Marble Road'.

They had not walked far when Ishtar's eyes lit up and she squealed, "The Great Theater! It's still here! Or at least much of how I remember it..." For nearly an hour, the two explored the theater. Treston spoke little of his personal experiences here because of the pleasure he found listening to the girl relate hers. Finally, they ended up on the stage.

"Do you remember any songs from your many visits?" Treston asked. Ishtar mentioned one she had memorized. He suggested, "Now's your opportunity to do what women were not allowed to do then. Sing us your song." At first, the girl refused. Finally, with enough of Treston's urging, she did.

The words were in ancient Greek and they were sung with a perfect voice. Little did Ishtar realize the power of the acoustics in the theater, and even less how her singing affected her listeners. The girl closed her eyes and began the long musical tale.

Being sung in the old Grecian language, no one realized it was the fabled story of the fox and the grapes, yet the musical tones of the girl's song mesmerized the tourists. At the end, a hush hung over the gathered crowd, then a thunderous applause broke out from over a hundred pairs of hands, and shouts for more echoed off the stones throughout the theater.

Ishtar opened her eyes to see all the people staring at her. Her face flushed red and she hurried away with Treston who was chuckling to himself. Stories of the magic songstress circulated among the locals for several months, adding one more piece of folklore to the history of Ephesus.

A short way further up the Marble Road, they came to what was called 'Arcadian Avenue'. It went west, toward the old harbor. Ishtar was most surprised because she remembered the harbor as it was in her day, filled with ships from every city on the Great Sea. Merchant stalls and fish markets used to pack the sides of the road leading to the harbor. Now she saw nothing but swamp and more strange ruins.

Treston got her attention. "Those old buildings are called the 'Harbor gymnasium and baths'. Above them, further up the hill, is a place called the 'Double Churches' or the 'Church of the Virgin Mary', whoever that was. I think the governor's palace was once located there, that is, at least as I recall it."

The smile disappeared from Ishtar's face. Her singing at the theater had cheered her up to the point of making her forget the darker memories of this city. Things she wished to not remember started pushing their way into her mind. Treston walked up to her, smiling. He was stopped up short by a flash of anger that shot from her eyes. As quickly as that anger flared, it departed.

Treston lowered his gaze. "I am sorry for the things I've done to hurt you. No acts of retribution can mend the damage I encouraged. This city holds terrible secrets long since hidden beneath its rubble. When I see the pain in your eyes, I ask myself, 'how can I ever be forgiven?'"

Ishtar apologized for her actions, saying something strange came over her that she did not understand. Treston had proved himself to be a caring man who could be trusted, and she could offer no explanation for her sudden anger. Still, the events recalled from her time in the prison and then the treatment at the hands of the governor soured her for wanting to know where the palace might have been. "Let's move on." She took Treston's hand and pulled him back toward the Marble Road.

"Maybe we should go back down Curetes Street," Treston suggested. "There are a lot of other places in that direction we could visit, including the museum back near Selcuk." He was thinking of what they would find further north, should they take the Marble Road.

Ishtar shook her head. "No, there's something that draws me in that direction. I fear what's there, but I can't recall what it is. My mind hides that part of the city from me. Please, let's go."

The further up the Marble Road they walked, the more frustrated and emotional Ishtar became. Nothing looked the same. The face of the city had changed so much over the ensuing years, there was nothing left in this area that she could recall. Yet some things were still familiar, the rough outline of the old harbor, an occasional pillar or stone marker, even the slope of the road. She suddenly realized the real problem was that she could not recollect the place where the two now walked. Impossible! This was her city. She had traveled every foot of its major parts several times!

She put her hand to her forehead as if in pain. "What has become of me?" she anxiously queried. "I am growing weak in my knees and my limbs tremble. My stomach seeks to purge my noon meal. I'm walking in darkness, for I cannot remember this place at all." She turned her gaze to Treston, fear in her eyes. "What growing evil hides itself from my face?"

By now, they had reached the Acropolis. The main street went on up the gentle slope to the north while another, much older, went east. A shiver ran down Ishtar's back. She tucked herself in close to Treston and slid her arm around his waist. As she peered down the easterly road, the girl spoke with increasing trepidation. "There is an evil down that street, one I cannot see. My heart recalls visions of this place where we stand, visions of angry mobs shouting vile things and hands attempting to grab and tear at me. I recall the feeling of pain as something thrown struck the side of my head."

Treston replied, "It is no vision unless you and I have shared the same. I agree there is a terrible evil down that road, an evil I once used to be part of and reveled in." He paused before adding more information. "I remember the chunk of marble that hit you. It angered me so, I ordered my men to draw their swords. I threatened the people with their lives if anyone harmed you. It at least offered us safe passage."

Ishtar silently nodded as if remembering some cloudy detail of forgotten times. The girl's lips quivered as she tried to explain her growing anxiety over the moment. Finally, in desperation, she beseeched Treston, "If your mind is clear to what my visions are, tell me, please! Tell me before all sanity flees me!"

At that instant, the sun was blotted out by dark storm clouds racing across the sky. Booming thunder echoed down the valley, sounding warning of an approaching storm. Chilling winds sprang up from nowhere, twirling dust and debris high into the sky. Locals and tourists scattered for shelter, leaving the two sojourners alone at the crossroads. It did not storm, but the threatening clouds lingered, making their presence felt by strong winds and many thunders. No strangers remained to witness the following events.

As the winds howled, Treston turned and faced the girl. Taking her hands in his, he shouted, "The hour has come. Choose for yourself which road you shall take." He pointed north. "This one leads you to new journeys yet unseen." He then stretched his arm toward the east. "This one delivers you to pain and destruction, and a possible rebirth." Resting his arm on the girl's shoulder, he offered, "I am your servant. Choose for yourself the road you will take, and I will assist you on it."

The wind increased, blowing Ishtar's silk scarf off her head, releasing her curly, waist-length, flaming locks into the deafening wind. She shouted, "Tell me if you can, for I deserve to know, what hour has come? How can I choose without knowledge?"

The tempestuous wind carried away Treston's reply so that only the girl heard the words. "Today is the anniversary of your death in this place. The very hour approaches." He pointed toward a distant stone gate, standing alone in a bowl-shaped valley. "Your blood lies beneath those fields beyond that gate, and your spirit still haunts the arena in which you were murdered. Will you free it so that it can again become part of you? Or do you choose this other road?"

Ishtar stared into the distance beyond the gate. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning streaked from the sky, exploding in the center of the field. Deafening thunder shook the surrounding hills. The girl gripped Treston's arms, digging her nails in deep, drawing blood. She stood frozen in place, fear growing inside her. Her words were nearly muted by the wind. "I'm afraid! Hold me close, please!"

They started down the east road, slowly making their way along the street and to the gate leading into the arena. Treston assisted the girl through the rock-strewn passage and onto the grassy field beyond. Ishtar glanced around, trying to recall this part of her life, but only vague shadows of the past revealed themselves. Letting go of Treston's hand, she wandered into the field.

As she walked, Ishtar became aware of strange and new sensations growing inside her. Wind gusts whipped the wiry grasses, but she wasn't aware of their effects. The girl felt like a person lost between sleep and wakefulness - dreams and reality. Treston cautiously followed behind, keeping his promise to stay close while being unobtrusive.

There was a burned patch in the grass where the lightning had struck. When Ishtar reached it, she bent down to examine the spot. Right before her eyes, the grass turned to dust. In surprise, she stood up, only to receive a greater shock. She no longer stood in an empty field, but in the center of a huge stadium with thousands of shouting people surrounding her. With wide eyes, she studied what she beheld. It was so real, but it could not be!

She felt as though she was an observer trapped in another person's body. And then she heard it...a voice coming up from the ground, taunting her. "So, you have dared return to take back what was stolen from you! How foolish! How foolish, for now I shall take what remains, leaving only what the beasts destroyed that day!"

The girl listened to words her mouth spoke in reply, but didn't feel she had uttered them. She took in the sights and sounds, heard the jeering and name-calling of the crowd. Her eyes caught sight of a woman standing on a high platform nearby. The woman was crying and pleading with the man standing next to her. The woman fell on her knees and stretched out her arms to another man standing in a balcony behind the girl.

'Mother! Mother!' the voice inside the child called out, but the mouth did not repeat those words. 'Oh mother, I love you! I miss you! Please...please, can you hear me, Mother?' the girl continued crying.

All Ishtar could hear though was her inner voice calling out, 'I am a free woman! If you release me, I shall destroy another of your worthless god-king statues!'

At that, the crowd went deafeningly mad. The man in the balcony stepped away and another man appeared, carrying a scroll in his hands. He read the sentence of execution and, when finished, the crowd cheered and shouted its approval. She looked at the aging man standing near her mother. He was slumped forward, a hand resting on the post to which he was chained. She saw his extreme sadness and tears began to form in her heart, but her eyes refused to shed a tear.

Time passed. A huge, caged wagon filled with wild dogs was pulled into the arena, its back gate turned to face the girl. Another dog was led by a long leash and kept separate from the others. Then the first person she had seen at the balcony returned. He deliberately scanned the crowd, looking at the hungry faces of those desiring the girl's death. He finally focused his eyes on her, and then gave a signal. Naked and proud she stood, showing no sign of fear.

But Ishtar was afraid...no, terrified! She started screaming, but no sound came forth. The gate of the wagon was lifted and a dozen wild, crazed animals charged her. Every bite, every crushing tear, Ishtar realized and felt. Panic filled her breasts. What madness! What crazy, stupid madness!

In moments, the pain had eased, but she could still feel the teeth, the chewing of the hungry creatures eating away her flesh. Suddenly a huge, ferocious beast stood above her. It opened its mouth wide and plunged, closing its teeth around her throat. After several violent shakes, the girl lay motionless, her breathing ceased. But Ishtar could still see and hear the world around her. The crowd acted dismayed at such a quick death. The woman on the platform was cursing the chained man and making vile comments about his God. The other man standing on the balcony rested his hands on the rail, his face reflecting guilt and dismay.

She suddenly heard Treston's familiar voice as he shouted, "Drive 'em away or kill 'em!" Dogs yelped and whimpered as spears drove the life from them or chased them away from the first meal they had in days. Seconds later, she saw Treston's face as he stood over her, tears streaming down his cheeks. The wind howled in her face and the vision was carried away with it as it screamed off down the valley.

It took a few seconds for Ishtar to comprehend where she was. She found herself staring into Treston's face, tears in his eyes. In a sudden burst of anger, she lunged for him, pounding her fists against his chest, screaming, "I hate you! I hate you and all your goddamned people! You stole my life from me! You stole my soul! You stole all that was mine!"

Then again, she heard the voice coming from beneath the ground. "Yes, yes, do to him as he did to you! Finish this now and we'll be off to blissful peace." Ishtar stared in angry bewilderment. What was this all about? Were vengeance and repayment – deed for deed – the way things must be done? Was this the way to regain her soul? Could violent rage return her lost past?

Her heart bursting with anguish, the girl fell forward, burying her face in Treston's shirt, her hands clutching his arms. She began to wail like a mother losing a child. "You stole from me all that was precious! I am a dead woman. There is nothing left for me...no friends or lovers. My mother... my mother..." Her sobs drowned out the other words. Soon, their convulsive song was all that Treston could hear.

War raged within the girl's breast. The demon below and the Cherub above, battling for the girl's soul...which side would she choose? To give in to the passion of the moment, to surrender to the carnal desire of revenge and abandon all that she had become or to accept where the Fates had delivered her, and whatever future tribulations were hers to endure? Would she remain forever the daughter of Ephesus or would she become the star-child of the new morning?

After seemingly endless hours, Ishtar's emotional tumult subsided. She was drained, having no energy left for anger. Treston wrapped his arms around the child and softly spoke, "We acted wickedly against you and pillaged your soul and heart, but your death was not wasted. You saved many lives that day, including mine. Lowenah has already returned to you some of your friends who can share your past with you. They remember. I remember."

Ishtar lifted her angry, tearstained face, her eyes boring into Treston's. She had many accusative questions, a need for answers burning within her. Who were truly the godly ones and who were the demons? Was Lowenah, herself, not the Devil Incarnate, bringing disaster upon the girl?

As though Treston already knew the questions, he answered, "All men die, and those who live go on, changing the world they live in, until they also die. Gradually, things change so much, nothing remains of the past. Still, things people do while life courses through their frail bodies can live on, affecting lives for millennia to come. You did that."

"How?" Ishtar spat, her words filled with bitterness and hate. "How did I affect the future? And what good did it bring me?"

Treston pondered the question before answering, "There's Darla. Do you love Darla?"

"How foolish a question!" Ishtar sputtered. "You know how deep my love is for my blood sister."

Treston kindly replied, "She nearly died this day long ago, helping you with your trial. Those others with her risked all things to save your soul. They fell in love with you on that day. Would you trade their companionship and care for a fleeting few years in a corrupt and ruined city?" The girl said nothing. Treston continued, "And what of your uncle? Because of your actions, he was able to finish the work Lowenah purposed for him. How many lives did he affect? Why, his teachings still influence the minds and hearts of people to this very day."

Ishtar could feel the demon's hold on her waning as her bitterness gradually slipped away. Treston's gentle words were like soothing salve on a burning wound. The dark mist of the girl's nightmares was beginning to lift, allowing her to see more clearly the issues at hand. This place was evil - might still be but the people occupying this place were only acting evil and not so themselves. There had been a greater power present that day \- a power that also tried to murder Darla and her companions. Who or what did the girl really hate? Who should she hate?

One of her waking dreams came to mind. It was the one where Ishtar stood by the fire and watched two people arguing over her. The woman had said to a man on the opposite side of the flames, "You have nothing to gain from her torture. The degree of mercy you extend to her, I will extend to you."

Ishtar watched the man curse in anger as he howled, "Mercy? Mercy to her? I will add seven times to the agony she has already received! She will beg to die before this day is finished!"

She looked at Treston, troubled eyes filled with questions. "Who really did murder me, if it wasn't your governor?"

Treston mildly answered, "It was the same man who attempted the murder of your blood sister and her companions. They say he is called 'Legion' and lives in a mountain fortress city called 'Memphis'. It has been told that the child he struck down is to execute vengeance upon him for the cruelty done to her. I've heard he was at the prisoner exchange when you woke and knows his death angel has risen."

Ishtar's mind raced with too many questions to make reply. Treston added one more bit of information. "I was told that even now this Legion seeks the soul of your blood sister. He has been put under oath by Asotos to surrender the woman up to him or die in the attempt. It is rumored that her hoped-for demise eats at him all the time, so much so, his sleep flees him."

Ishtar quietly spat, "Then Legion must die! I will do it myself..." In the back of her mind, she heard a mournful wail coming from deep beneath the ground as it faded into oblivion, the demon having failed its master, dissolving into nothingness. "Why was it necessary to bring me here to tell me all these things? Of what value is it?"

Treston smiled, "Lowenah informed me that on the day you died, part of your spirit remained here, hidden in the blood buried beneath this ground...a cherished treasure to be possessed by friend or foe. Only here could the issue be settled. Only here, as you relived the past, could you choose your destiny. Would you become the angel of prophecy or surrender your heart up to a bitter eternity, for the person you are to be and what you must endure has to be birthed from a willing heart or all will fail. Only here could your heart be tested to the full limit. It was a risk Lowenah felt was necessary."

Ishtar's mind still whirled with many questions. She frowned, replying, "Lowenah can be cruel, just as you have been to me. And her kindness at times is no greater than Legion's. But despite my bitter feelings toward her, my heart perceives that her cruel acts are done out of love and not for selfish gain." She looked up at Treston. "I feel bitter about you, but I don't hate you. In fact, I have come to feel close to you. I trust you." She rested her head on his chest. "And I trust Lowenah, too. I love her..."

Then she angrily sputtered, "As for Legion, I swear with an oath that I shall do to him as I promised...whatever it takes!"

Treston sighed in relief and muttered, "Then there is hope of success." He gave Ishtar a few seconds more to rest then pulled himself away and, licking his fingers first, rubbed the tearstains from the girl's face, after which he dried it with a kerchief. Taking the girl's hand, he explained, "Not all things have changed. If you look at the big picture, you will see just how much all has really remained the same. Come with me." He gave Ishtar no time to reply. Pulling the girl along, Treston hurried off toward the east, to another outcropping of ruined buildings.

Angry thunderclouds had moved on by the time Treston and Ishtar reached the summit where an ancient building stood. As they watched the late afternoon sun blaze in its summer splendor across the wide plain below, Treston grunted in satisfaction. "A person can see the whole world from this spot. At one time, the blue waters of the Aegean were visible from here."

Ishtar looked around at the broken columns and other rubble. "What was this place? I don't recall any such building."

Treston turned his gaze from the horizon, quickly scanning the ruins. "That, my dear, is what they call 'Saint John's Basilica'. It was constructed some time after our passing."

Ishtar puzzled, "St. John's? You mean our John...the John who asked me riddles and told me bedtime stories, the John my uncle would joke and carry on with?"

Treston nodded, "Yep, that John."

"Impossible!" Ishtar exclaimed. "He would never permit such a thing to happen."

"Couldn't help it," Treston off-handedly replied. "Seems that after he died, a whole bunch of people went to revering him. They venerated...no, almost worshipped him, even offered prayers up to him." He shook his head. "Funny, isn't it? All his life, John fought against worshiping idols. After he was gone, the very people he helped built this great temple to him. He still gets frustrated when telling about it."

The idea of John being deified was too difficult for the girl to accept. She spoke incredulously, "What fools would do such a thing? Why didn't they know better?"

Treston extended his hand, cautioning, "Careful, now... Many an innocent has done damnable things." He moved closer. "Dogma! Yep, dogma, that's what gets 'em all." Then he offered explanation. "The way I see it is this. A man or men sit down and decipher some idea or other from some holy book. It really doesn't matter which one they use. After a bunch of squabbling and debate, sometimes at the point of a sword or such, all the men agree what that holy book is really saying. Then they tell everyone else what it means, sometimes at the point of a blade or by other persuasions.

"Well, the people who are told what it means aren't allowed to investigate things for themselves because they're not considered smart enough, not close enough to God or just plain stupid. After 'while, these same people start believing they're not smart enough, or not close enough to God, or just plain stupid. So they take up accepting every piece of drivel passed along to them from these so-called leaders. To keep the people believing just how close to God all these leaders are, they have to continue coming up with new holy rules and regulations. These rules keep the people in line, but only as long as the people think the rules are from God. So these leaders call these rules 'dogma'."

Treston patted Ishtar's arm. "My dear, we all lived by dogma. I feared so many things - rulers, gods, goddesses, the sky, the earth, everything. That's why the words your uncle taught appealed to so many. He was simple in his speech and nonjudgmental in his instructions. He showed us that we could love God without living in morbid fear of displeasing him. What he said made sense. That's why the leaders hated him."

Ishtar could easily understand Treston's logic, but the aspect of demonstrating blind faith in doing the bidding of another man was difficult for her to comprehend. Treston reasoned this way, "When you were a little girl, did you believe what your father told you?"

"Of course!" she fired back, somewhat offended.

"Why?" he asked.

The girl thought a moment. "He was always so good to me and took good care of me. I trusted him."

Treston asked another question. "Did he ever warn you with threats?"

Ishtar soured and shook her head, "Never!"

Treston raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

The girl thought a moment, and then confessed, "He did tell me about the great snake that lived in the harbor and how it would eat little girls who got too close to the water. Then there were the lurking ghosts that haunted the night outside our home after dark."

Treston interrupted, "Did you believe him?"

"I was a little girl!" Ishtar countered. "What'd you expect me to do? I didn't know any better." A shocked look crossed her face as she began to see the parallel between being a trusting child and a trusting adult. People believed the leaders they trusted. If their leaders used threats of death and damnation to keep the people in line, most would obey without question. It was this childlike quality of fear and trust that kept them in silent bondage. And whether done with knowledge or unwittingly, the leaders maintained their power by playing on those fears.

Treston smiled his acknowledgment of Ishtar's revelation, concluding, "The day to judge our fellow man has not yet arrived. They must first be enlightened as to the reality of all matters. That, my dear, will not come at our hands. Another will do it. Our responsibility is to win the coming war so that day may arrive."

He turned the girl around and, standing behind her, extended his arm out away from her. "Look at the land and the lay of the hills. Do they appear familiar?"

Ishtar scanned the horizon, the hills, outcroppings and ruins. From this distance, she began to see shapes and sights still recognizable. She sang out with excited delight when a new reminder was spotted. For some time the two jabbered on about the many old and wondrous delights they were continually rediscovering. By the time they finished, the girl's sadness from her earlier experiences had nearly vanished.

Treston looked at the sky. The afternoon was fast escaping. "There's still another place we need to visit." He took the girl's hand. "Come on, it may close soon." With Treston leading the way, the two hurried down the hill, south, to the museum. Its doors were still opened and Treston pulled Ishtar into the cool shade of the interior rooms. He pointed down the long rows of ancient artifacts, either secured behind glass or cordoned off with braided ropes. In hushed excitement, he began, "Lowenah told me not to miss this place. She said if your road chosen was through the stadium gate, and should you come to an understanding with the vision shown, your deliverance here would provide you a key to wisdom and contentment."

Ishtar wrinkled up her nose in disbelief. "What is this musty old place anyway? And what can be found in here that would interest me let alone bring me contentment?"

Treston wagged a finger in her face and offered a kindly reprimand. "You may act uppity with the things I speak of, but Lowenah does not tease her children with worthless riddles. She has gone to great effort for us to stand in this spot at this hour. There certainly must be a purpose to our being directed here." He reached down and patted her hand. "This place is what people call a 'museum'. In your... our day, we would go to a library to search for the many things we will find in this building. Things that have been buried in the ruins for many years can be found in a museum. Maybe Lowenah knows of some important or precious item located here that may offer pleasant memories or will be dear to you or me and may have some real import."

Ishtar mumbled in agreement, but wondered how there could be anything of any interest to her. She saw nothing but rows of old, broken junk! Still, it was not long before the girl was fully absorbed in the strange and varied objects on display.

They had been wandering for some time when Ishtar suddenly froze. "Look at this!" she squealed, as she pressed her nose against a glass case. Treston pushed up close to see what had caught the girl's attention. "There! There!" She pointed at the broken remains of a jade hair comb. Treston stared at it. Ishtar excitedly exclaimed, "My father traded and sold hair pieces like this! I remember him allowing me to wear one at times when I played in his shop." She looked closer and cried out, "Look! Look at the markings on the one end, a seven-feathered crested fan carved in the jade."

Ishtar looked up at Treston, a huge grin on her face and tears welling up in her eyes. "My father had purchased several dozen of these, or at least just like these, a few weeks before he got sick. He said that a merchant traveling from a land far to the east was passing through the city in the hopes of finding a ship that would take him to a place called, uh, 'Sardinia'."

Ishtar stood up, wide-eyed and began gesturing exuberantly as she went on with her story. "My father said the man had fallen into some misfortune. I recall he mentioned something about women and gambling. Anyway, the man needed some money to board a ship leaving that morning. Father bought the entire collection from the man."

Treston was pleased to see Ishtar so happy. Sure thing, Lowenah knew how to lift a person's spirits. He then cautiously asked, "Can you be sure that comb is one of your father's? After all, there were thousands of stylish combs worn as ornaments for the women of Ephesus."

Ishtar vehemently disagreed, arguing, "No, this must be one of his. I remember it like yesterday. He gave me one to have. I wore it for years." The girl's face clouded and her voice trailed off. "I wore it the rest of my life. I had it with me the day I was arrested."

Treston said nothing, but he started to recall a comb of similar appearance from sometime in his past. He then apologized, "I should not have questioned you and brought back unpleasant memories that are still burning wounds within you."

Ishtar's sadness passed and she patted Treston's arm reassuringly. "You did no harm. My father was a wonderful man. The thought that part of him still remains in existence is so thrilling to my soul. It's a beautiful memory I will not soon forget."

She lingered at the glass, looking at the broken comb, wondering if it might have been her comb. Treston tired and wandered further down the display. Suddenly he whistled with surprise and ran his hand back through his hair, exclaiming, "Oh, my god!"

The girl looked up to see the astonishment on the man's face. Filled with nervous curiosity, she quietly asked, "What is it?"

Treston wildly motioned, "Here! Come here quickly!"

Ishtar became anxious, fearing the thing he had found would bring some painful memory back. She moved with halting steps toward the new mystery hiding behind thick glass. Treston became more fidgety and frustrated with the girl's pace. By the time she reached him, he could hardly contain himself.

"Look! What do you see?" As Treston turned back to the glass, he bumped it with his forehead, letting out a cry of surprise.

Ishtar turned to see what had caused Treston's wild excitement. Her eyes glanced around at the different items...shards of glass, some beads, a few pins, a brooch...a brooch! Suddenly she let out a gasp so loud that other visitors in the museum stopped to see what the commotion was all about. "Th...th...that's mine!" she cried, carrying on so excitedly, she caught the attention of one of the museum's personnel. The woman quietly strolled over and politely asked if the colonel and his lady friend needed some assistance.

Treston found it difficult to quiet Ishtar. Through her wiggling and frantic jabbering, he explained to the woman, "We have only been married recently. As a wedding gift my bride's great, great aunt gave her a brooch just like this one here, telling her it was very old." He glanced back toward the case. "We didn't think it was this old."

The woman folded her hands and smiled, "Well, if it is just like this one, it would be very, very old...and very strange and valuable."

Ishtar was calming somewhat from her excitement, and the other visitors had gone back to wandering the museum.

Treston asked, "Why do you say 'strange'?"

The woman explained, "Strange, because no one knows where it was made or what exactly it is made of. Take a look." She pointed at the brooch. "It looks like silver and newly made without a scratch or any corrosion on it, but it was buried in the ground for nearly two thousand years...at least that's what the archeologists believe it to be. That's how it looked when they found it near the temple."

"What's an 'archeologists'?" Ishtar innocently asked, still eyeing the brooch.

The woman stared at Ishtar, the girl showing a total lack of understanding. As disbelief grew on the woman's face, Treston again jumped in to try to save the day. Clutching Ishtar's arm, Treston apologized, "My wife lost her scarf in the wind today and, being without it in the sun gave her a terrible headache. A kind man offered us some medicine to ease the pain. It has helped, but she says her head spins a little now." He bent down and spoke in Ishtar's ear. "Isn't that right, Dear?"

Ishtar gave the woman a silly grin, nodding. She then turned and again glued her face to the glass that the brooch was secured behind. Treston had no idea what an archeologists was either, but he realized it unwise to tell this woman so. He looked back at the case and then at the woman and asked, "Were these things found here?" as he pointed to toward the city.

The woman cautiously replied, her suspicion aroused, "No, they were discovered at an ancient temple that was recently found, or at least that's what the archeologists who discovered it believe it to be."

'Archeologists'? Discovered it buried in the ground? Treston concluded an archeologists must be a person who digs up old things, or maybe he was a construction leader over a group of diggers. Whatever the case, this archeologists dug up something very important and Treston wanted to know more. He apologized again. "I'm sorry. We are strangers to this place, but we were told if we came by this way, to stop and take a tour of this city."

Ishtar spoke up. "It's not pretty like it was when I was little. The streets and shops were fun places to go."

The woman glanced at Ishtar, whose face was still pasted to the glass, and then she looked back at Treston. A little bead of sweat was forming on his forehead. "Colonel," the woman began, "did you ask the kind man what the medicine was?"

"My wife will be fine. It's all this traveling and excitement of the...the..." Treston looked around the room as if he was embarrassed and afraid others might hear. He bent forward and whispered, "You know, all the excitement and...and..." He rubbed his stomach and looked at Ishtar.

The woman put her hand to her mouth and her face turned red. "Oh, oh yes," she whispered, "I understand."

Treston returned to the subject of the brooch. "What temple do you speak of? I thought the temples were all in this city."

The woman relaxed. "The temple is newly found, maybe twenty years ago, some distance north of here. A storm brought it to light, or at least one of the building stones, or possibly a monument of sorts and a cemetery. The things in the glass case were discovered there. It's believed that the people buried there were priests and priestesses of the goddess Artemis. They were going to do more excavating at the sight, but the war started. No one has shown much interest in it since then."

Treston was nearly shaking with excitement. He struggled with those feelings as he turned to look again in the case, attempting to appear casual. "Well, we must tell our great, great aunt of the possible treasure she has handed us." He took Ishtar's arm and whispered something in her ear. She looked up at him and smiled and then did the same to the woman. Treston thanked the woman for all her concern, kindness and patience. When they left the museum, he deposited two gold coins found in his pocket in a reception tin near the door.

As they hurried east along the road to the café, Ishtar started complaining, "Why didn't you ask to buy my brooch? It would have made such a nice wedding gift, my Dear."

Treston grumbled, "They don't sell things in museums. I'd had to have stolen it to get it. I don't know what they do to thieves in this land, and I'm not going to risk finding out. Besides, I feel bad enough already, lying and all to cover for you."

Ishtar spouted in offence, "What'd I do? You didn't see me stealing anything. I only asked a question, 'What's an archeologists?'"

"Well, it almost got us in trouble! Did you see the woman's face? I thought she was going to call somebody for help - maybe a real officer. I had to talk fast, so I told her you were pregnant and all," Treston blurted out.

Ishtar shouted, "Pregnant and all? And all what? That is, if pregnant wasn't bad enough..." she gave him a sour rebuff, "especially if it was with your brat!"

Treston's head snapped around as he glowered, "Hey, there were lots of women" he jabbed back, "a whole lot smarter and prettier than you who wished me to be a father to one of their children."

Ishtar struck again. "So you went after married women, then? What'd you do, wait 'til papa went to work?"

Treston shut up. He was flustered with this little firestorm but felt he deserved it. He well remembered the remarks he angrily shouted at Perk that day in the prison so long ago, 'Do you think I would follow the likes of a shit like you?' To the child, those words would have been spoken only months ago. Shame enveloped him. "I'm sorry." They quietly trudged toward the café.

Ishtar immediately noticed Treston's sullen silence. She did not intend to hurt him and now felt bad thinking she had. The girl reached out and took his hand and gently squeezed it. The two walked on in silence.

Thunder rolled down the valley and pouring rain lashed against the taxi, blowing water through the canvas windows, soaking everyone inside. The driver leaned forward, pushing his nose almost to the windshield. He complained about the storm hiding the road. Suddenly, the little auto jumped and bounced and then its right side slumped as the machine skidded to a stop. A broken tree limb had been washed into the road from a flooded ditch and the taxi snapped an axle hitting it.

For some time, the little party remained inside the vehicle, sheltering themselves as best they could from the violence of the sudden storm. When the rain eased, the driver, a short, potbellied, mustachioed man wearing a leather driving coat and floppy cap, pulled himself from around the steering wheel and exited the door. He wandered to the other side of the machine and sank down beside it. Treston and Ishtar heard the man angrily cussing the limb, using expletives strange to their ears.

A moment later, the driver came back and complained about their helpless situation. In his thick, slow speech, he told them he would have to go back down the road to find someone who would be able to return them to Selcuk, or call someone for help. He offered to have them come along or remain, saying they might be there all night if they did.

Treston crawled from the back seat, stretching his legs. He then assisted Ishtar. She stood, crying out in pain as she did. "Something snapped and bit my backside!" The girl reached up and fussed with some kind of undergarment beneath her dress, complaining how much it constrained her and hurt her back. The driver, somewhat embarrassed, turned away and looked down the road.

Treston thanked the driver for his offer, but told him that he thought they might be near a spot of interest and wanted a look around. He reached into his pocket and pulled more silver coins from it. "Here, take these. It may help cover the cost of the accident. I feel somewhat responsible for what happened here."

The driver's eyes bulged as he exclaimed, "Colonel, this is too much! These coins are worth another taxi."

Treston shrugged, "Must be someone wants you to have one." He closed the man's fingers around the money and again thanked him. "We'll look around while you're gone for help. We'll be fine." He patted his sword.

The driver thanked Treston for his kindness and told him he would return shortly. He extended his hand. "You are a good man, Colonel...an honest and fair man." He then shook Ishtar's hand as well. "And you are a lucky woman to have found such a good husband... er..."

Treston smiled, "Dianna."

"Dianna?" The driver grinned, "Dianna!" With that, he quickly ambled down the road in the direction from where they'd come.

When he was out of hearing distance, Ishtar asked, "How much money did you give him?"

Treston, who was watching the man, quietly replied, "I don't know. Every time I've had to pay someone today, I just gave 'em what I found in my pocket. Figured that was what I was s'posed to do."

They chatted about little things and some of the day's previous events. When it was felt sufficient time had passed for the driver to be far enough away, Treston suggested they cross the road and take a grass-covered path heading away to the west.

At that moment, Ishtar heard the noise of another machine coming from up the road ahead. The two stopped and waited, not wanting to be seen running away from the taxi. A dilapidated truck screeched to a stop and a younger, bearded man poked his head through an opened window. His attention fell upon Ishtar and wide-eyed, a broad grin grew on his face. Then he glanced at Treston and his face fell pasty with a glint of fear showing in his eyes.

Treston hurried over to the truck, lowering his head to peek in. Beside the young man was a woman who looked to be little older than Ishtar. She was nursing an infant and a little toddler was next to her, jumping on the seat while he cooed some baby song. It was obvious from the family's appearance they were quite poor. "May I be of some help, officer?" the man asked, in a voice filled with growing trepidation.

Treston was becoming frustrated with all the fearful respect he had received today. It was a chilling reminder of just how cruel humans could be to each other. He held his personal feelings in check and, putting on a kindly smile, answered, "Thank you, my wife and I are fine, but our taxi is broken and the driver has headed back to town for help. Would you be willing to assist him?" He paused. "We want to look around here some, so we'll wait until you come back."

The young man nervously said he would help. He looked at the woman sitting next to him. She showed the same look of concern, finally daring to speak. "My Lord, this machine is not ours, but belongs to the village mayor. We were making a delivery for him. There is little fuel still in the tank and we have no..."

"Wait!" Treston reached in his pocket. Sure enough, there were more coins there. He pulled them out and handed them to the man. "Here, this will help with your expenses." He stood back grinning. "And your fat cow of a mayor will never need to know the difference."

Astonished, the couple thanked him, asking, "So you know our mayor?"

Treston laughed, "No! But I have met many like him." He smiled at the young woman, and asked the man, "Is this your wife?"

The man frowned and mumbled in the negative. The woman spoke up. "The priest must be paid and we have no money, so we wait." She offered a sad half smile. "One day..."

Treston could see the embarrassment growing on the man's face. He patted the fellow on the arm, replying, "Good things come to honest people." He reached into his pocket and sure enough, he felt more coins. "Take these and pay the priest." His eyes furrowed in anger. "Tell him, for me, if he does not give you a splendid ceremony, I will come with my troops and burn his church and hang his carcass on a light post!" It did his heart good, recalling the feeling of power.

The man's eyes showed shock and utter disbelief with the colonel's words. Upon seeing it, Treston added, "Tell him he won't be the first useless pig I've skewered! It is not wise to anger a man who has stood next to God. And let him know I will be watching to make sure he does as I've commanded."

"Y...y...yes sir," the man stuttered, "I will do what you say."

The woman leaned across and rested her hand on Treston's, a huge, open smile growing on her face. "May God bless you, my Lord. I will name our next son after you."

Treston was taken aback. After regaining his senses, he shook his head. "No. No, name your next daughter after my wife. Call her 'Dianna'. She's a goddess."

Ishtar, who had been standing close and listening, interrupted, "Wait! The lady needs better clothes to be married in." She rushed past Treston and stuck her head back into the taxi. Pulling out an old blanket, she ran to the other side and, out of sight, tore off her dress and other garments, letting out a loud sigh of relief as she did. She put the garments in a neat bundle, and wrapping herself in the blanket, walked back to the truck.

Treston was speechless. What fool thing was the child doing now? She poked her head in the window of the truck, shoving the bundle in and dropping it on the woman's lap as she did. "I won't need these where we're going. They'll do you better." Standing back, she watched with satisfaction the faces of the two stunned people in the truck. Then turning to Treston, she confessed, "You've been giving to people all day. I thought it was my turn."

Treston finally nodded his acceptance. The two looked at the still very much surprised and shocked couple in the truck, wished them a happy future and said their goodbyes. They watched until the machine disappeared over the rise.

"Quick," Treston exclaimed, "we must get out of sight before anyone else arrives. I can't afford to be a do-gooder anymore today. We have things to accomplish before nightfall." Off they ran, up the grassy trail. Ishtar giggled to feel the warm mud squeeze between her naked toes.

The storm had long since fled and the sun was sleepily resting above the western hills when Treston and Ishtar finally reached their destination some miles from the road. "There! Over there somewhere," Treston shouted. "I remember the lay of the land. It's over there."

Ishtar had bruised her foot on a sharp stone, forcing the two to walk at a slow pace. Treston started telling the girl what they were looking for. "What you did affected the governor so much, he had me bring you to his private estate to be buried in the family cemetery. I figured after all this time there'd be nothing left to find here. I didn't think it was important enough to bother you with before. But after seeing the things in the museum, I felt you needed to know."

"Know what?" Ishtar quizzed, curious.

"Know what happened after you died," Treston replied. "Lowenah must want you to know. At least I think that's why we're here."

Treston went on to fill Ishtar in about her after-days. "The governor rarely returned to the arena after your death. Only for special occasions would he go there, and then he would feign some excuse to leave before most of the circus events started. It wasn't long until he claimed that, for health reasons, he was retiring to his estate." Treston waved his arm in a sweeping arc. "There were no olive trees here at the time, only rich fields of grain and grasses."

Picking up the story, he went on. "Merna's boys had no close relatives, so my wife and I - we had no living children, my only daughter having died of the fever years before - we took in her boys, Jessie and Dilean, and raised 'em up. They were good boys, good men. I loved 'em like my own sons."

He turned and shook a finger. "I didn't keep any secrets from 'em. They knew all about what happened and what I did. They still loved me. Yes, they did." Sadness overtook him as Ishtar watched the man wipe a hand across his face. "My wife passed away a little over a year after we took in the boys. She was almost thirty-five. I guess she had lived a long, happy life for the women of the day, but I missed her...still do. After she passed, the governor asked me if I'd manage his mountain estate. I worked for him until he died and then for his sons. They took good care of me and let me live there, even when I was too old to be of any value." He grinned, "They called me 'old man Pops' and I et many a meal at their table."

Leaving off relating his account, he shared something with Ishtar. "The governor told me about you saying his city home was going to be destroyed. He feared it so, not seein' it again and all. Finally he decided to make a journey back. The night before he was to leave, he died in his sleep. They said he was found clutching some childhood toy with a smile on his face." He looked Ishtar in the eye. "Herculaneum disappeared in smoke the next year, just like you said it would."

Ishtar caught her breath. She vaguely remembered some pronouncement or other but it was foggy in her mind. "I really said that?"

Treston nodded, "And lots of other things... The governor even said you...or a voice speaking from inside you...talked to someone called the 'Lord of the Flies'. He believed it to be one of the other gods or demons hiding in him that you chased away when you touched him. He told me that for the first time in his life, he felt clean, washed clean, if you know what I mean, like he was free of some evil monster in his head."

They began walking again. Ishtar pondered what she had been told, finally asking, "What of the boys - Jessie and Dilean, I mean? What happened to them?"

Treston grinned, "Well, let's see... Jessie went north with John, never to return. I heard he married up with one of Phillip's granddaughters. Dilean stayed around here and took up with a local girl. Last I knew, he was a smithy in a little village about four leagues east of here. Had a couple children, too..."

Treston reflected, "Yep, the governor and his boys turned out to be good men, mighty good men. They'd allow me to have all kinds of visitors. Even when times weren't always so good - you know what I mean - my new friends, Apollonius, John and others, they'd come and stay for a day or week...whatever. The governor never said a word. He even asked me questions about things every now and then."

"So why couldn't you have told me these things when we were back in Ephesus?" Ishtar asked, pulling the blanket off her shoulders and folding it over her arm.

Treston allowed his eyes to wander down the girl's body, taking in her feminine features. Never before had he seen such magnificence and beauty. In his eyes, all the women of the First Realm paled in comparison to this goddess walking beside him. How privileged and honored he felt to be allowed in the presence of this woman.

Treston looked toward the distant hill, answering, "My dear, you asked me who you should hate. I want you to see whom you need to love. Good men often do evil things. Should we hate the men?" He turned to address Ishtar. "If acts and deeds were all that God used to judge us by, what man or woman could survive the scrutiny?"

He again turned to watch the path they were taking. "I believe there are secrets of hidden knowledge waiting in these hills. Lowenah has brought us into this place for a purpose - a purpose, I feel, that may change how we understand our fellow man. We are being drawn to the house of the dead so that the experience may somehow affect the living. In exactly what way, I'm not sure, but it calls to me and I obey."

In short order, the two had trudged across the field and ascended the long, gentle slope of the rise. Treston paused to get his bearings as he scanned the valley on the other side. A toothy smile stretched across his face and he pointed, "Over there, about three furlongs, that's what we've come for. Let's go! It's getting late."

Ishtar grinned and grabbed hold of Treston's hand. Soon, one could only see two distant figures hurrying away down the hill, bobbing through the tall summer grasses.

There was little left of the governor's estate that would convince a person of the splendor once existing there. Treston located the main house, identifying it by the layout of some remaining foundation stones and pieces of two marble columns found at its entrance. The stones used in the construction had long disappeared, having been used for other purposes. Most of the barns, guesthouses, workers' and slaves' quarters, stables and granaries were built primarily of wood and clay, which deteriorated long ago.

Time was of the essence and Treston had to hurry if he desired to find the old family cemetery. "Things have changed so..." he cried out in dismay. "And these archeologists have done so much digging here, I wonder if the place even exists anymore."

Ishtar thought a moment and then offered a suggestion. "We found the house, right? Do you know the direction it was from the house?"

Treston grabbed hold of Ishtar's face and planted a hard kiss on her lips. "You're wonderful! Of course I know the direction from the house. Many a night the governor and I would go out after dinner and walk to the cemetery. Thank you! Thank you!"

He rushed over to where they found the broken columns; searching until he was convinced he was standing on the porch's threshold. After Ishtar overcame her shock of Treston's excited kiss, she walked back to the house to watch Treston.

The man stood, eyes closed, facing away from the doorway. When the girl started to ask what he was doing, he hushed her. As if remembering some certain conversation, Treston turned his head to his right and, with eyes still closed, slowly and deliberately started pacing forward. He wasn't counting the steps as much as he was trying to recall a strolling conversation and the length of time it took at a certain gait.

Eventually, Treston stopped, and his eyes remained closed. Carrying on as though still in conversation, he began to turn to his left. Ishtar almost laughed, thinking of him as a dancing marionette. She put a hand to her mouth to keep from making noise.

Soon he stopped, opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. His face lit up and, without saying a word, he bolted off.

"Hey, wait for me!" Ishtar shouted, clutching the blanket that was now thrown over her shoulder, charging after him.

Ishtar's lungs were screaming for air by the time she finally caught up with Treston, who was stopped at the edge of a steep ravine. He glanced over to her and then looked back down at the muddy water still fleeing the ditch from the last storm, shaking his head in dismay. "If that's the stream I recall, it used to be over a mile further that way." He pointed toward the northwest. "See how much lower the ground is on its other side? If that archeologists fellow found the cemetery because of some flood \- and that's what the woman told us at the museum - it may no longer exist. Maybe I was wrong about my feelings. Maybe I've only sung you a foolish sirens' lullaby."

Ishtar was still panting, trying to catch her breath. She finally managed, "We're... here... let's look... around."

Treston shrugged, "Won't hurt... Got nothing else to do..."

Treston went one way along the stream bank and Ishtar another. In a few minutes, the girl heard the man shouting. She hurried toward him, her heart pounding with excitement. By the time the girl arrived, Treston was already down near the streambed, on his knees, rubbing an old stone half buried in the fresh mud.

He looked up, a wild grin on his face. "Come here! Take a look-see!"

Ishtar saw that Treston had removed his jacket and kepi, along with his sword and scabbard. The sword was stuck, blade down, in the dirt. Ishtar folded the blanket and laid it next to the sword. Then she picked up Treston's other things and placed them neatly on the blanket. Treston patiently waited for her, his pants soaking up the mud as he rested by the stone. The girl eventually slipped and slithered her way down the steep slope.

Treston had splashed some water on the stone to wash away the remaining mud. He pointed at some marks carved in it. "See these? I cut them in there."

Ishtar leaned forward in the shadows in an effort to read the markings. Just then a distant cloud departed the dying sun, allowing its final glory to fall upon the reddish stone. Ishtar let out a quiet gasp. Chiseled in the stone's face were her name and two more lines written below it. What she saw, when translated from the old Greek, was:

' _Ishtar_

## Goddess of the heavens

Who walked among men of clay'

She looked over at Treston, seeing tears in his eyes. His lips quivered, "You still are to me, you know..." He bowed his head over the gravestone and began to weep.

Ishtar rested her hand on his shoulder and gently caressed his back. While she waited for Treston to release emotions long held in abeyance, she glanced around at the surroundings. The afternoon's rains had flooded the stream, apparently washing under this stone, causing it to tip over and slide down the bank, exposing the soil around it. There was enough clay in the dirt to make everything sticky from the rain, and the fading sunlight made it glisten in the growing darkness.

Suddenly, out of the corner or her eye, the girl caught the sun's light glinting off something in the goo. She struggled up the bank and pulled a gold pendant out of the mud. Filled with excitement, she nearly shouted to Treston, "Look at this!"

Treston slowly raised his eyes, and saw the pendant just as the sun's light reflected off its face. He cried out, begging, "Please! Please let me see it!" as he crawled up the bank.

The girl handed it to him. For some time, he said nothing. He just sat there in the mud staring at the golden piece of jewelry, its heavy gold chain still secured to it. Finally with wonder in his eyes, he joyously exclaimed, "This is mine! The pendant was my wedding gift to my wife. After she passed away, I carried it on a gold chain to keep it safe." He paused in thought, and then sighed, "You know, the governor's sons must have thought enough of me to bury me in the family cemetery." He slowly shook his head in wonder.

Ishtar started poking around some more in the mud. About two feet from where she had seen the pendant, her fingers felt a painful jab as she drove them into the goo. "Ouch!" she cried, but she didn't let go the treasure she found. "What is this thing?" the girl asked, pulling the small clay-encrusted object from the slime.

She handed it down to Treston, who turned and washed it in the clearing stream. When done, he gave it back to her. "Here, I think you lost this."

In the girl's hand rested the other half of a jade hair comb, its markings matching those in the museum. Ishtar squealed in delight as she clutched it close to her heart. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Now it was her turn to break down and cry. How wonderful to be holding something given her by her father. What a sweet gift! Even if it were hers to hold for but a moment, she would remember it for an eternity.

Treston now spotted the sun glinting off something next to where Ishtar had just found the comb. Crawling up the bank to the spot, he reached in and pulled a silver brooch from the sticky soil. Hurrying back down to the water, and nearly falling in the process, he rinsed the brooch clean, holding it up for Ishtar to see just as the last light reflected off its surface.

The girl clasped her hands and cried, "My brooch! My brooch!" stumbling and sliding down the bank to retrieve it. What a sight the two made, half in and out of the water, covered in mud from head to toe, laughing and crying at the same time. Eventually, they both exhausted their emotional energy.

After resting in silence awhile, Treston looked past the stone and up the bank. He sighed, "They knew I adored...almost worshipped you. When I died, they must have placed me right next to you. Think of it, no matter what you might have thought of me, or still might, we have journeyed together through time, side by side, clear to this day." He shook his head in wonder.

Ishtar held up the comb and asked, "How'd this come to be here? I don't remember having it after leaving the prison."

Treston snapped his fingers. "Now I remember. I went back to the prison the following day, before leaving for this place. I found your comb trampled in the stall, broken, like it is now. When I buried you here, I had you dressed in your gown and placed the comb pieces in your hair. That archeologists fellow must have only dug up a little piece of this cemetery, finding a few of the treasures and leaving the rest."

Ishtar cared little that her hair was packed with mud. She gently slid the jade comb into her curls, sporting a grin of satisfaction Treston had never seen on her before. He leaned back and made an observation. "Good men often do evil things. But good men are still good men. We must learn to find what good there still is among men today." Ishtar agreed. The girl's head suddenly began to spin and her world fell into darkness. She and Treston were swept away from their adventure, never to return.

That night, a violent, flooding downpour stirred the stream's gentle water into a raging torrent. When the two-dozen chilled searchers converged on the scene the next morning, all they found were the blanket and things Treston had left behind. Inside the coat pocket, the people found twenty-four gold coins, one for each person who braved the night and the storm seeking to rescue the lost couple.

Local gossip being what it was, stories soon flooded the café and meeting places about these strangers. The mystical tales only grew, honestly embellished by the humble people who encountered the strange visitors that day. When the military confessed that they had no officer missing or on honeymoon, the mystery only grew. Eventually, the telling of events reached the ears of the local priest.

One day, soon after he came into town, driven in a big auto by a neatly dressed attendant, he stepped into the café where it just happened that the town's people were currently gathered, including the taxi driver and the young couple he had refused to marry. They told him the account as well as could be remembered, adding several superstitious embellishments as they went along. Finally, the young man confessed to him what the colonel had commanded him to tell.

The priest scoffed at what he heard until they showed him the old coins the officer used to pay his accounts with that day. All of them were at least several hundred years old, but shiny and just like new. And the two coins from the museum were of solid gold and at least two thousand years old. Finally, the people handed him the sword Treston had left behind.

As the priest examined it, his eyes grew big and his hands began to shake in trepidation. He muttered something about some painting on the wall of the church and a warrior saint having a similar weapon. Finally, he read the inscription engraved on the blade. It was written in the same Greek used by the church in solemn worship. Dropping the sword, crying out in fear, cupping his hands over his ears, the priest ran screaming from the building.

Later, the people went to the museum to find out what was written on the blade. They all marveled when told. The inscription, when translated into the common tongue, says thusly, _'It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.'_ For several years, the sword hung above the door inside the café, cautioning all who entered there to be honest with their fellow man.

The young couple was soon married in the church by the priest. Over the next several months, dozens of other poor locals received the same honors, all at no cost from the old priest. Legends grew, with some people believing they had been visited by St. Paul and the Virgin Mary, other's claiming that St. John and Mary Magdalene or even Gabriel and his consort had blessed them with their presence. And still other people added more theories until everyone was thoroughly confused. Still, for a long time most in the neighborhood tried extra hard to be good people.

Little night creatures were filling the gentle breeze with their happy songs of summer, and the moons were washing their soft glow over the clearing just past the forest. After his senses returned, Treston allowed his eyes to search his surroundings. They soon fell upon Ishtar.

Treston blinked in near disbelief. He was sure they were back in the Middle Realm, standing in the same clearing the two had started their adventure from that morning, but Ishtar was still covered from head to toe in muddy slime. Looking down, he noticed that his attire was not changed either. Then he felt the hard object resting in his fingers.

Raising his hand for a better look, Treston stared in amazement at the golden pendant taken from the cemetery. He started to comment about it as he looked over to the girl, but chose to remain silent. There was Ishtar, fingers in her hair, tenderly caressing the jade comb, her other hand clutching the silver brooch.

Their eyes met. Without speaking a word, a mountain of emotions passed between them in that one instant. With a single mind, each reached for the other, becoming locked in an iron embrace...and then the tears - tears of joy so deep and powerful, words have not yet been written that can do them justice. Future days would bring sorrow, anger, and grief. It would test the strength and love these two had for each other, but the bond that was sealed this day could never be broken.

Later, a poet set down to music and verse these words that recalled this bond. When translated into the common tongue, it reads,

Come search with me the valleys and hills.

Journey into lands long forgotten with me.

I so long to see what the world once was.

Come share their visions with me.

And the lad and the lass, hand in hand, off and ran.

Into darkness and doubt both did go,

To search for secrets hidden in rubble and stone...

To find treasures of more value than gold.

And the winds of Fate carried the two far along,

Into lairs of demons and tombs of the dead.

They fought dragons and monsters and their own inner fears.

And with burnished blades held high, they did win.

And their hearts were just bonded, 'til the two beat as one.

Together they shouted out one battle cry.

" _Oh, the earth it shall tremble and the mountains will shake._

But our love for each other won't die."

Past the tumult and fury of war's ending hour,

Past death and the fields turned red,

Past the time of deep sadness and the long peace ahead,

With but one heart, the two lovers stayed.

At long last, arm in arm, the two sojourners found their way back to Lowenah's ship. RosMismar greeted them. "The Lady sends her salutations. There are hot baths waiting. I have seen to it that a delightful meal has been prepared. When you are ready, we shall dine in the main cabin." He led the couple up the gangway and to the common room where a private tub awaited each of them.

Ishtar giggled when seeing her bath and jumped right in, kicking and splashing with delight. Treston hesitated. He was not comfortable being seen naked, especially by a woman he had such powerful feelings for. After removing his clothes, he sheepishly turned around, and with his back toward the girl, pulled off his pants, then, being careful not to fall, stepped back and down into the steaming suds, sinking in until his head was just above the water.

Now feeling safe, he turned his head to see the girl. Somewhat to his surprise, and a little to his dismay, Ishtar had paid no attention to Treston. She was fully absorbed in the refreshing bath and was playing with the jade comb. Later, Lowenah privately told Treston that when Ishtar was returned to life, Lowenah had not waked the girl's sexual desire for male companions, being told that the child was a vessel saved for a special purpose, and the day of her coming of age celebration reserved for a future time.

The two eventually arrived at the main cabin, Ishtar handsomely dressed in her natural beauty and Treston, comfortable in an ankle-length pullover silk robe. Around his neck hung the golden pendant, glistening in its newly cleansed beauty. Ishtar also wore her brooch like a necklace, being able to do so after RosMismar had carefully mounted a hasp to it and obtained a fine chrysolite chain to carry it. He had given her the gift after helping the girl towel off, commenting, "It is obvious the child has little need of such a device unless it becomes a piece of jewelry."

Ishtar's reddish-orange locks were adorned with a broken jade comb, her face beaming with delight at having such a treasure. What a day it had been for the both of them, one filled with twisting emotions and surprises! Now they stood before a table filled with delicacies reminiscent of the times in Ephesus long ago. Another radiant Cherub, one of the three attending upon them during the meal, explained, "We felt the need to assist you in forgetting the tourist food that you were regrettably forced to eat today. May your hours spent in mystical lands be fondly remembered."

When they were nearly finished with the meal, Lowenah quietly entered to offer her greetings. Treston and Ishtar both jumped up, Treston to bow his reply and offer his thanks for Lowenah's many gifts, Ishtar to rush over and give an embrace. "Oh, thank you!" the girl cried, her tears starting again. "You are so wonderful and kind!"

Lowenah's face turned a noticeable red. She was not prepared for Ishtar's outburst and, being taken by surprise, was at a loss for words. Treston chimed in, "How do I repay such kindness?" He lifted the pendant with tears in his eyes. "To see this again and understand how it was preserved is a gift beyond measure. But to have it delivered back to this land is beyond my wildest imaginings."

Lowenah smiled, "When you are the Maker of Worlds, few things are impossible for you...very few." She then asked them to sit and finish their meal.

An attendant delivered a chair for Lowenah and she joined the pair, now and then taking a nibble of some little morsel catching her eye. When all were fully satisfied, the attendants removed the remaining food and cleared the table and a crystal candelabrum holding a dozen delicately crafted candles was set in the table's center. One by one, each candle blazed to life, lending its special, distinct, colored beauty to the flame until the room glittered with a rainbow of crystal hues. The other lighting gradually dimmed, leaving the dancing flickers of fire to cast their glow against the darkness.

Lowenah allowed the silence to grow, using it to create a restful tone. When the mood was set, she began. Maintaining the soft ambience of the moment, she asked, "Have the hearts of my children been satisfied this day?"

Treston and Ishtar both expressed their gratitude and delight with the gifted experience. Lowenah smiled, pleased with her successes. She now began to inform the two of the importance of what was done. She first addressed the issue of the souvenirs. "Few are the children of your kind that I have brought into my world, and none have been showered with any treasure from the Realms Beneath. I do give generously but, to those which more is given more is expected. And I have been most giving to the both of you."

Lowenah rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands together. "The hour soon approaches when the entire universe and all the treasures of the hearts of my sons and daughters will become much like the city of your past. Will you have pity on the hearts of my children as I have had on yours?"

She now focused her attention on Ishtar. "My daughter of night, last of my labor pangs, will you now accept the road that has been set before you? The time has passed for childish antics and foolish complaint. You have grown today, but if you fail to fully mature, I will have wasted my efforts on a fool's dream. When we return to the palace, your training will begin. I have assigned a harsh taskmaster to teach you in the ways of war. Will you grow above your reckless rebelliousness and learn to obey his voice?"

Turning to Treston, Lowenah went on. "A good soldier you have proved to be and I believe you will teach this girl well. But can you learn to command and yet understand the hearts of my children? When we return, I am giving to you my child whom you have requested. She is older than you by many lifetimes of men, and her wisdom is greater than yours. You hold not just her life in your hands. Her heart is gathered there as well, for she will fall in love with the man commanding her. Will you allow her into your soul? Will you let her see into your secret dreams? Will you give her the love that all my daughters need?"

Lowenah then spoke to both of them. "Just as each of you have needs that are special to your kind, my children born of me have needs that are special to their kind. If I have lifted you up and made you rulers over my own flesh, can you learn and come to understand their needs so they will rejoice in my decision-making? Learn to give gifts that are fitting the need. Learn to become like me."

She pushed her chair back and stood. As Lowenah continued her conversation, she slowly walked around the table, stopping behind each of her listeners and spending some time gently caressing their shoulders. "Today you have observed that a world held in bondage to an evil ruler - my rebellious son - is not necessarily evil in itself. How can I bring its ruin and preserve my good name unless I exhaust all possible means to break the chains that keep those people in slavery? I have set the day for all men to be judged, and I have lifted up a man who will judge as I would. I have placed into your hands his well-being until said day arrives."

Looking at Ishtar, Lowenah asked, "Will you show patience and allow my child to grow up?" She hurried on, not wishing for the girl to respond...not yet. "My little one, great you are among men. Your sword will split the heavens and your battle cry will shake the mountains. Kings will ride at your side and the armies that will follow you will be like the swarming locusts upon the ground. Shall you remember in that day that you are a child of the clay and made from the dust? Will you remember how precious the souls are to me of the children you consign to the fire?

"My heart aches within me because I see I have made a terrible thing. No monster created by men can match the wrath of my death angel. Do not break my heart completely. Preserve, please, the soul of the man you hate. Until the Day of Distress - until Shiloh arrives - will you stay your hand and let him live?"

Ishtar was confused. Lowenah squeezed her shoulders and smiled through tears. "One day you will understand. You will remember this hour and understand."

Lowenah went on about treasures lost and treasures regained, about love and hate and understanding. She told them stories of her children and days long ago. On and on through the night she went, searching their hearts and revealing her own. The candles were long burned away and the sun was wide-awake when she had finished. At the end, she invited them to take one last look at this strange middle world before they started for home.

As they stood near the exit hatch, soaking in the wondrous delights surrounding them, Treston mentioned the money he continued to find in his jacket pocket. Lowenah grinned, "Oh, that... I promised Merna I would bless some of her children with special gifts. Now I have done so."

She turned and walked inside. Treston and Ishtar stared at each other. "You know," Treston mused, playing with his beard while doing so, "we humans tend to forget that life continues on in so many different ways. I wonder how many others we met were somehow related to us?"

Ishtar nodded in agreement, then taking Treston's hand, encouraged him to come in. As the ship slowly lifted off and parted from the grassy glade, two tired travelers sat on a divan watching through a window this strange world while drifting into the sleepiness of each other's arms.

* * *

### SECTION FOURTEEN:

Children of Blood, Fire and Storm

Apollonius and Drorli had been immersed in deep discussion the entire trip, talking about everything from exotic insects to battle strategy throughout history. Merna and Alba tired of their prattle long ago and were now resting comfortably in an open-air coach nearer the front of the rail stage. The pace was slow by the standards of Lowenah's children, which was the primary reason most in the party had chosen to take it.

This form of transportation known as a 'rail stage' was an ancient anti-gravitational monorail originally designed for the leisurely lifestyle of pre-Rebellion days. From times of antiquity, the home planet had been crisscrossed by these rather sluggish but opulent machines. Almost silent, and slow - maximum speed being about thirty-five miles an hour - the rail stage offered its passengers time to take in scenic delights while indulging in pleasant conversation or quiet solitude.

Needless to say, the rail line from Palace City to Oros was one that enjoyed a lazy route, twisting around mountain precipices, traversing bottomless gorges on spindle-thin trestles or sinking into murky blackness through endless, winding tunnels. This suited everyone in the group except Drorli. He was enjoying the trip, the same journey he had taken countless times, but today he was in more of a hurry. As for the others, none had been in the First Realm very long, and they found the pace more than acceptable.

Alba was excited about this upcoming adventure. She and Hanna arrived in the First Realm within weeks of each other and renewed old acquaintances quickly. Rarely were they separated. Now, though, Alba was headed for Oros to join up with the Army along with her other companions, while Hanna, having been requested to enlist in a Marine division, had long since departed for Officer Training School. Alba was finding these hours aboard the rail stage with Merna refreshing and relaxing, two very important ways to calm anxious nerves.

There had been a small going away party the previous night. Alba and Merna took advantage of the gathering to say their goodbyes to old friends from bygone days in the Second Realm and new acquaintances from the First. It might be years before they would meet up again, war being what it is, so they lingered late into the night before departing.

Of course, the subject of war could not be avoided. She and Merna had settled in with a small group of other volunteers soon departing for their duty stations. Among them were Apollonius, a close friend, and James, Alba's life-companion when she lived in the Second Realm. Few in the party had actually participated in military combat, save one man who had been an officer in the legions. The rest were unsure of what exactly to expect or what would be expected of them.

Alba revealed her private concerns about just how brave she might be when faced with battle. At that, James laughed and, patting her on the knee, humorously replied regarding both her and Merna, "How can the daughters of the Heruls not succeed? The blood that flows in your veins is that of the Thracians. Are you two not familiar with the phrase, 'Who dares to stand against the princes of the Iron Sea'? Indeed, I believe you two were delivered here for that very reason. Asotos' people will not find comfort in your presence when they realize who holds the line against them."

Apollonius reached out and stroked Alba's golden hair, then bent forward and peered into her ocean-blue eyes. "The sun fell from the sky on the day of your birth and the oceans cried with joy at your making. How little they realized their deception. The fiery blaze is both beautiful and destructive. The poets say that your race is unmatched for its wild savagery in peace and in war. May they prove to be correct."

Alba shuddered at the meaning of Apollonius' statement. The time was coming soon enough when she would learn if those words were true. The thought of killing another person, even though an enemy, disturbed her. That was yesterday. Tomorrow would be soon enough to contemplate those things. Alba tipped her head back and closed her eyes, seeking other dreams from more pleasant times.

Drorli's and Apollonius' conversation revolved around Mihai and her encounter with the battle droid after Sirion's abduction before the prisoner exchange. Drorli's detailed description of the fight led to a rather in-depth discussion of droids. Apollonius had heard smidgens about the Droid Wars, a series of frontier skirmishes fought some five hundred years before, but little detail was given concerning these fighting machines.

Drorli explained, "'Droid' is really a misnomer. The word is a shortening of 'android' which means an automaton or machine in the form or appearance of living beings. The term was adopted from the automatons, machines made by Lowenah that some call 'cherubs', although I believe they have confused Cherubs with 'spirit inventions', Lowenah's hidden tools. I perceive Cherubs to be creatures much like us, but far more ancient and possibly far wiser.

"These droid creations are the ultimate of machines or automatons, designed by the children of Lowenah, possessing artificial intelligence. Some of the more advanced ones have breathtaking abilities. But they're still programmable machines and, as machines, are only as good as their programmers. Also, we – you and I – have instant reasoning abilities. We call it 'instinct'. Those machines have to analyze everything and that slows 'em down."

Apollonius was puzzled. "My friend, I have heard others describe Cherubs and spirits as if they are one and the same. You speak of the spirits as though they are machines, yet you say they may be smarter than us. How can one have such intelligence and be only a machine?"

Drorli smiled, "My friend, our heart, soul, mind - whatever you wish to call it - the living part of us that is made of the matter...the 'Fabric of the Minds' to which we are not privy...that is what separates us from the programs I speak about. Still, even our minds are inventions of a greater mind, an undying mind. I guess that makes our minds machines of sorts...of sorts."

He yawned and stretched. "We, though, are not programmed as to how to think or how to act. We have independent thought and can decide how to use what we have been given. Spirits...droids are programmed or designed to work like complicated tools, to do the will of the one making those tools. Now, as for our body," he patted his hand on his chest, "it is a most magnificent machine." He leaned forward and looked Apollonius in the eye, stating, "...a machine, nonetheless!"

Drorli sat back. He raised his arm, bending his elbow and making a fist. "See this?" By opening and closing his fingers, he made the tendons on the back of his hand move. "Those are very tough, elastic cables that attach to strong tissues called 'muscles' that elongate and contract, moving my fingers. It's true, I control the action, but it is the mechanical properties and the physical laws built into the hand's design that gives me freedom to do it. My body is controlled by the will of my mind. It is a machine doing my bidding."

He rested his hand on the chair's arm. "My mind wills my body to work for it. My body is a tool used by me to accomplish my desires. It is the device or vehicle that produces stimuli for my mind by helping me understand and react to the world outside my brain. Without it, I would feel nothing, see nothing, know nothing, be nothing. It lets me be who I am. It is a willing machine that I control. But, no matter how wonderful it is, bottom line, it is still a machine." He slapped the arm of the chair. "And that brings us back to the subject of droids."

Drorli sank into the plush, carriage-style seat, sighing as he relished its comfort. He was now happily resigned to the lingering journey ahead, having found a person to lavish his storehouse of knowledge on. A steward made his way through the coaches offering snacks and refreshments. By the time Drorli took up his account again, both he and Apollonius were sipping drinks.

While studying his hot brew and watching his friend's expressions, Drorli went on. "After the Rebellion, Asotos attempted to make biological androids by modifying machinery used in making other creatures of flesh. He understood the building blocks of life for making animals and man, having been so involved helping Lowenah with the process. To Asotos' dismay though, not being able to reach the fabric material of the mind, he was able only to make living, breathing, mindless machines that looked human. After several failed attempts, he surrendered to a means in which he could implant other machines within those creations, permitting his servants to control them." He asked Apollonius, "You do recall the stories told of the Fellers?" Apollonius nodded. "Asotos attempted a different and new way to make men and women more to his liking.

"He soon realized that what he had produced wasn't human, but a new kind of intelligent life form. The new creatures born from these sexual acts were strong and powerful, but also twisted and demented, making them difficult even for their fathers to control. For several centuries, Asotos continued his experiments after the Deluge, hoping to eventually create a crop of mutations more useful to his purpose."

Drorli peered into his cup then looked up at Apollonius. "His activities becoming so clandestine, proof was hard to obtain as to what lab experiments he was continuing, thus the rumors of kidnappings and abductions of your kind by strange creatures. He has also used his talents to work with genetic manipulation through selective breeding experiments in an attempt to create a super race naturally, you might say. Well, your kind being the hopelessly independent race that it is, he hasn't got very far, but he's still trying."

Drorli sat up straight. "I think Asotos is still involved in the same attempt, but this time by playing with what is called 'genome experimentation'. Your people's quest for knowledge...to become like gods, I mean...may provide him with the needed tools to finish what he has so long wanted, a brutish race of intelligent mutants that will do his bidding. I think that's part of the reason Lowenah has pushed this war now, to slow things down to meet her timetable."

All this was not new to Apollonius, but many facets were strange and different, increasing his insight into reasons for coming events. He wished to continue with the android idea, though. "You mention only my old realm in our conversation. Tell me more about the droid experiments here, in your world."

Drorli smiled. "Here everything failed for him, too. You see, after Asotos rebelled, Lowenah removed his ability to reach into the Fabric of the Minds, he being the only child ever able to do so. Without that ability, any experiments he did in attempting to create living machines came to nothing. He was successful at producing bodies of flesh that appeared much like us, some say, but they were dismally inferior to Lowenah's children."

The rail stage had slowed as it managed one particularly twisting tunnel. Breaking from the opaque darkness into the blazing afternoon sun, it went crawling along the edge of an extraordinarily deep precipice, winding its way across the face of Kaissal Mountain. Drorli stopped to soak in the enchanting beauty of this wonderland. Here was one place he never tired of, the windswept, barren mountain peaks covered with snow ten months of the year, and the lush, nearly tropical valley thousands of feet below.

Drorli expressed his contentment while revealing an aspect about the lives of Lowenah's children that was so difficult for Apollonius and his kind to comprehend. "My friend, you are looking down on the lowest dry landmass on this planet. It is nearly one league below sea level. In fact, it was once the 'Little Kaissal Sea', mirroring the reflection of this very mountain in its waters. Eventually, the growing mountain range shut off the water flow and the sea dried up, but the rains and melting snows still provided enough moisture to allow such lush greenery as you see below."

He closed his eyes, viewing in his mind the way it once had been. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he added, "The rail stage has been replaced through this pass many times since it was first laid here." He pointed across the valley to another high peak. "That's Obeb Spur Mountain, the very end of the Northern Spur Mountain Range. We will soon come to the Trangil High Pass, the longest single-line trestle ever built. From there, we will cross over to the Obeb Divide and start our long descent to Oros, which is located at the far eastern edge of the range."

The windows of the rail stage had automatically closed when the outside temperature dropped to an uncomfortable level. Drorli poked his finger against the glass, his breath steaming it up as he spoke. "When the Kaissal Valley was an inland sea, it was much wider than today. The Obeb Spur was over twenty leagues from here. Now it is little more than one." He turned to Apollonius. "Some day these two mountains will become one. I imagine this area will then be called the 'Great Kaissal Mountain Range'."

A steward entered the coach offering refills. The two men thanked him for his kindness and then returned to their earlier conversation. Apollonius asked, "So what then of droids? What of the Droid Wars? Are there any kind of droids today?"

Drorli confirmed there were. "Yes, there are what you might call 'droids' today, but they're not the two-legged ones that look like us. After his human experiment failed, Asotos went to work on other forms of intelligent machines...machines that would have independent thought and reasoning. He built several types of constructs that imitated various life forms. Once he was satisfied with a physical shape - which by the way, look nothing like us - he proceeded to develop a brain of sorts to use in it. Droids, you will find, have more of an insect appearance. Manufacturing an exoskeleton is relatively easy to do. Besides, the protective outer shell can be made strong to serve as armor without adding excessive weight or cost to the droid.

"Then, by using an electrochemical replicating process, silicon and carbon-type biologics could be grown inside the shell's cavities. Asotos developed a process where the finished machine's internals could self-repair or heal themselves, and created a digestive system of sorts so they could consume organic materials to maintain their energy levels. All this is controlled with a highly advanced computing system. Still, in the end, Asotos has only created a very complex machine."

"Sounds pretty scary to me!" Apollonius interjected. "Was it an insect droid that attacked Mihai?"

"Well, yes, you might say," Drorli admitted. "But you're getting ahead of things."

Both men settled back into the seats as Drorli went on. "To this day, most droids are somewhat insect-like, flying, walking, used for spying or guarding places by both sides. Asotos, though, tried to build an army of them.

"All droids have limited artificial intelligence. Without the Fabric of the Mind, nothing really living like an animal let alone a man can be produced. As I earlier alluded to, all droids have to be programmed, their intelligence limited to the complexity of the information loaded into them and the power of the computer brain using the program. Asotos spent some three millenniums developing his ultimate droid. When finished, he reproduced thousands of them to war against the frontier colonies."

Apollonius shuddered at the thought of thousands of giant insect monsters attacking innocent people.

Drorli quickly added, "He failed miserably. True, a few have fallen victim to these monstrosities but in the end they have proved very inept at what they were designed to do. They are easily out-thought and out-fought. In fact, Asotos' obsession with making intelligent machines has taken away precious resources from other endeavors which has helped lead to his suffering many military defeats.

"While Asotos was bent on inventing the ultimate android, Lowenah's children were busy inventing machines that worked with them, enhancing their inherent abilities...machines that were symbiotic in function. Their labors finally led to the development of a smart sword called the 'derker blade'. It draws its energy from the person wielding it. In fact, with its built-in artificial intelligence working with the person's thought processes, the weapon becomes an extension of the person. When first introduced in battle, our enemy was left nearly defenseless. The sword can move so fast, arrows and other solid projectiles are fended off by those skilled in its use. To this day, few weapons have excelled that wonderful machine."

Drorli shrugged, "Both sides have 'em now, but like Lowenah's children with the droids, Asotos only grudgingly accepted the swords. Droids require a great deal of labor and resources to produce, not to mention the number of inventive minds it removes from other fields of research to develop a working model. While Asotos bogged his laboratories down with trying to recreate life, Lowenah's children were busy improving their own weapons of war. This difference eventually gave the margin of victory over to us, tipping the scales of battle to our side. If we had been as brutal as he is...as your kind are...we would have driven him out of this realm long ago."

Drorli sadly shook his head. "We held the edge throughout the Great War, but then we slept at our posts, thinking he was safely contained by our impressive battle fleets. I'm afraid our brother has now made up for lost time. This coming war will be fought on a much more level field as far as weapon power is concerned." He smiled reassuringly, "We still have superior fighters. The TKR17, with a good pilot, will out-match the enemy's Endikos-23 any day and is something to be reckoned with. It's another of those symbiotic machines like the derker blade. We just have too few of them."

The rail stage rounded a sheer rock-face. Looming ahead was what looked like a thin, dark line that stretched from one side of a deep chasm to the other. Extending down from the dark line, thousands of web-like girders formed an arch that anchored into the mountains walls. Apollonius let out a whistle and asked, "Are we supposed to cross over that thing?"

Drorli laughed, "What's wrong, my friend? Look a little flimsy, does it? Not like those giant stone ones you're used to?" He stood up, signaling Apollonius to do the same. "Let's seek out the others. We'll have a better view up further."

They found Alba and Merna just as the monorail swept into its turn and over the bridge's abutment. Standing in the car, now with its extraordinarily large windows closed, the travelers could see clearly in both directions the length of the canyon, and nearly straight down. For the three relative newcomers to this world, the view was spellbinding. With eyes wide, they peered through the windows, too mesmerized to speak. Drorli smiled at their expressions then turned to soak in the view. He wondered to himself at just how easy it was to become dulled to the surrounding beauty, forgetting just how grand and special things could be.

In a few moments, the canyon was left behind. Shortly, the rail stage entered a tunnel that cut its way through the side of Obeb Spur Mountain, hurrying its descent to Oros. The party remained in the car, choosing seats that surrounded a tiny circular table fastened to the floor. For some time, Drorli immersed himself in describing the historical significance of this bridge and its rail system, but he was eventually interrupted.

Apollonius was still haunted by a question from the earlier discussion and finally had to ask about it. "You speak of machines and people having symbiotic relationships. In my study of bugs, I have found that plants and animals, or animals and animals, even plants and plants can develop such, but how can a nonliving thing know what will benefit someone living?"

Drorli grinned, commenting, "You're right of course, if we are to take the word literally. I have used the conceptual meaning to explain how advanced some of our machines have become." He looked at the women's growing expressions of dismay. He laughed, "Just this one point... My people have built machines that have the ability to think and reason to a degree. The TKR17 is an excellent example. Located in the pilot's helmet are countless sensors that send messages back and forth between the ship and the pilot. Over time, the machine's brain develops some form of understanding of the operator's thought processes, including emotional makeup. It starts to react accordingly, to the thought processes, I mean. To sum it up, reaction time is greatly decreased. And that's good when it comes to war." Standing true to his promise, Drorli changed the subject.

The remaining journey to Oros went by quickly. By the time they arrived at Oros High Station **,** it was nearing the dinner hour. Most of the passengers exited hurriedly onto the main platform located in the center of the enclosed station, scurrying away on business. Few visited Oros these days unless it was on business, paying little attention to the ornate columns, carvings, and fountains and were swallowed up in the bowels of this vaulted, manmade cavern, the fading echoes of their parting feet the only evidence of their passing.

Drorli and Apollonius strolled back to retrieve personal items the party carried with them, asking the others to remain there. As the women waited, Alba stared out the window at the grandiose magnificence of this structure, finally exclaiming, "I believed it was only for selfish indulgence that people built the wonders of our old world, but now I must reconsider my views. This makes the Palace of Emperors pale in comparison in its extravagance."

Stepping out from the stage, the party was greeted by Zadar and another officer. He politely inquired about their trip, also asking if they had eaten. Station attendants labored with the removal of luggage, using ancient, wheeled flat-carts to deliver it to the receiving area. Zadar assisted the others with baggage retrieval and ushered everyone toward the exit doors where they walked from the station into a winter wonderland. "The first snow of this season," Zadar called out. "It's come early this year."

He stamped some of the wet flakes that were sticking on the worn granite stoop outside the door and then pointed southeast. "It's raining down the valley. From Oros High Station to Eastern Gateway Station near the army base there's nearly a half-mile difference in elevation."

Merna became curious. "Why were we asked to depart here when the lower station would have delivered us near the base?"

Zadar laughed as he offered his hand to assist her down the steps to the street. "My dear, lovely woman, the rail stage would take another two hours to reach Eastern Gateway Station, having to crawl down through the city and stop at four other stations en route to its final destination. It was felt that a relaxing dinner in one of our renowned eateries would suit you better than more of that travel food. I do hope you're not disappointed with the decision."

They stopped at the street curb and he tenderly squeezed Merna's hand before releasing it. The woman's cheeks flushed red, a sheepish smile growing on her face. The way this man was flirting reminded her of a time not so long ago. Her smile suddenly melted into a gloomy frown. She was married...had been...had children. Zadar's actions were so much like that her of her husband, bringing back memories of their parting on the day of their arrest. As those burning emotions were rekindled, she rested a hand upon her now empty belly and turned away, groaning in mournful lament.

Zadar apologized remorsefully, "I am so sorry! I had not intended to offend you. I wasn't thinking. I am truly sorry to hurt my lady. Please forgive me for acting so disrespectfully toward you."

Merna pushed out her hand, motioning for Zadar to be silent. Slowly turning back to face him, her tear-filled eyes staring into his, in little above a choking whisper she softly replied, "You spoke no evil to me. It is I who had forgotten my reason for being here, for this war and my part in it. You have helped me come to my senses."

Looking up into an evening sky filled with sparkling snowflakes flitting around the lamplights, Merna vehemently declared, "I have come to right a terrible wrong. To me it has been granted the privilege to search out those who murdered my family...my husband, daughter, and still unborn child. Revenge has been offered to me."

Merna's hands began to shake and her face filled with seething rage. She moved close and clutched hold of Zadar's coat, wildly staring into his eyes, angrily crying out in an oath, "I swear, as I live, I swear with all my heart, I will paint myself red with the blood of those who destroyed my life!"

Zadar raised his hand to her arm as she buried her face in his coat, mourning, "Forgive me, please, for being so outspoken. I have held so many troubled thoughts in for too long. Now I have unleashed them at the wrong time."

"No, no, my dear one," Zadar wrapped his arms around Merna, "now is a good time. This night is a good time. You will sleep a restful sleep tonight because your heart has revealed itself in all its honesty. Should all men be as free as you have made yourself this eve."

Others in the party said nothing. For them, each had some story to tell...one of pain or fear, love or hate. To see their sister express her feelings so openly made them feel more at ease with their own emotions secreted behind bolted doors. Through Merna's tumult, they had come to a new level of inner peace.

The solemn quiet that had come over the group was suddenly broken by the roaring sound of rapidly approaching road machines. With lights setting ablaze darkened streets, two motor coaches pulled up to the curb, brakes squealing as they came to an abrupt stop. The lead coach had four doors with rear seating, making room for six passengers. The second one had two doors with one bench seat for the driver and possibly two riders. Behind each cab was a spacious, flat platform covered by a removable canvas top.

The officer accompanying Zadar opened the door of the first vehicle and offered his hand to the person seated there. "Major Chasileah, may I assist you?"

Chasileah graciously accepted and taking his hand stepped onto the sidewalk. "Good evening, everyone, Major Zadar, General Drorli."

Apollonius and the others looked at Drorli in surprise. "General?" Apollonius asked. "We have been traveling with a general? What an honor!"

Drorli laughed, "Yes, a general, but a title gained by very little gallantry. I was asked to join an engineering corps to head up one of its divisions...a pencil pusher's job, if I may say. I've had some experience in fabrication and design, little else you know. So they gave me something I could do."

Chasileah interjected, "Our pencil pusher general is most highly respected for his outstanding services provided throughout this long rebellion. He helped develop processes that have enabled us to establish many a bridgehead and his design work has been implemented in several military complexes."

Drorli politely brushed away the praise, and then changed the subject. "I have been informed that dinner is waiting us. Shall we load our baggage and be off? I'm starved!"

Everyone agreed. When finished, the officer accompanying Zadar climbed in the cab next to the driver. The motor roared to life. In moments, the backlights were all that could be seen as the machine sped down the street toward the base.

Apollonius watched until the truck noise faded away. He scratched his head, asking, "You people have such wonderful machines. Some float above the road, others are so quiet. What is it with these war wagons, anyway? Do you make 'em to scare the enemy?"

Zadar cheerfully answered, "No, my friend, that's a new invention of the current powers in charge. Those things are called 'half-deuces' or 'quarter-deuces'. We call 'em 'Garlock's Fancy', named after one of your kind, a certain Jebbson Garlock. He's what you'd call some 'big cheese' with the boss, Mihai. They're built off a design your people used in some of your recent bloodletting contests back home. This Garlock fellow says that we need to direct our time and resources to where it counts the most...building weapons. So now those clunky, noisy, smelly contraptions are our new transportation."

A tone of good-natured funning was carried in Zadar's words, but it did belie a truism regarding the feelings of Lowenah's children. They wanted to win the war and were willing to sacrifice anything to accomplish it. Still, there was a feeling of dismay among many about the child-student usurping the chieftain role over the old guard. Few surrendered themselves to such resentment, but most accepted that it lay hidden within their hearts. For nearly six thousand years, they had held the line against evil. Now, these people, not much older than babes and delivered to this place only recently were setting out new rules for the game about to be played.

Drorli chimed in, "Do be careful, young master Zadar! It was only a short time ago you concluded that the children of the Realms Below would be the key used to defeat our brother. As I recall hearing it, you've been quite taken by these creatures yourself, spending more than the usual time in their company." He looked at Merna holding Zadar's hand. "Now why don't you explain to our friends the reasons for Colonel Garlock's designs."

Zadar eyed Drorli. "I was about to do that very thing, but then someone intruded into my line of thought, my dear general." Everyone laughed as Drorli threw up his hands as if to ward off a blow.

Zadar grinned, "Maa-a-jor Garlock - 'Jebbson' as most of us call him - said we need to build such devices because they are easy to maintain and repair, even in a theater of war. Their very simplicity of design and common construction materials make it possible to manufacture such things almost anywhere. Keeping costs down on general-purpose equipment like these transports enables us to devote more energy and resources to building our frontline weapons."

Drorli added, "These machines are named for the weight in tonnes they are designed to carry, 'deuce' being the standard of one tonne or two thousand, two hundred pounds. We have quarter-deuces, half-deuces, three-quarter deuces, and deuces. Then we have deuce-and-a-half and double deuces. Practical maybe, but I think it makes for rather dull-sounding names."

Alba had been silent, soaking in meanings and feelings, but now her hunger was getting the best of her. "I think your people and my people are very much alike, Mr. Zadar. I have been told that you are gathering thousands of horses at this very moment to be added to your military strength. You speak of our lack of elegance and obsession with the practical. I find your people are often lost in wistful romance for yesterday's dreams, wishing to believe that shining armor and burnished blades will carry the day. We both see the same objective, but from two different extremes."

Zadar did a polite half bow. "My dear Alba, lady of the king and Keeper of the Promise, what say you, your Excellency? How shall we acquire satisfaction in this dilemma?"

Alba was no longer in a mood for casual conversation. "It has been said, 'There is a time for all things. If we are to fight then let us fight. If we are to philosophize then let us philosophize.' I say when it is time to eat, there is no room for war or philosophy."

Boisterous laughter erupted, loud and cheerful. Apollonius patted Alba on the back, complimenting her on such profound wisdom. Drorli called out that all should follow the lady's sound advice. Chasileah encouraged everyone to pile into Jebbson's wonderful machine. Zadar looked up at a lamplight, snow twirling around in its golden radiance and sang an ode to the delights of good company and fine food. The others threatened to leave him and he had to run to catch the ride.

Crawling into the back seat of the coach, he couldn't help making one final complaint. "They could have put heaters in these things at least!" Turning to catch the others' glances, he added, "You'd think..."

* * *

Ardon observed how subdued the officers' mess was this evening. Occasionally he would hear the galley chief issue directives to his crew as they scurried about their duties, or he might pick up a snippet of some private conversation. Otherwise, the quiet noise of twenty hungry people hurriedly downing their portions was about the only sound to be heard. No one lingered in idle chitchat when a meal was finished. It was up from the table and out the door, back to work stations.

He wondered, 'So this is one of the effects that eight straight weeks of constant duty has on a crew of a fighting ship? The crewmembers become little more than parts of the machine itself, each one surrendering up a piece of his or her soul so that the ship becomes the true living organism. Does the vessel finally gain control over the people to the point where they are consumed with working for its good, so that the machine becomes more precious than the creatures giving it life? Or is this just some kind of self-preserving collective spirit residing inside the ship's crew?' These were questions Ardon felt worth pondering, but at some later time.

He then turned his attention to Darla. She had hidden it well from the others, but most of colonel's waking hours were filled with painful headaches caused by the constant attempts of her demon within to gain possession of the woman's mind. Every night the monster renewed its struggle to overcome her resistance and every night, with Ardon's help, Darla successfully bested it. Ardon was now convinced that Darla had the needed inner strength to mentally defeat the demon's attacks. No longer was he worried about the woman's sanity or her succumbing to this angry disease. Still he worried...worried she might physically die from the monster's constant assaults before the demon could be expunged.

Ardon had often recommended that Darla take sick leave and visit Euroaquilo. Each time she softly replied that the path of her destiny was already chosen and she would not deviate from it. At first, Ardon thought she was merely trying to appear tough and strong, possibly fearful of what others might think of her. Soon it became evident that the woman was being deliberate and stalwart, determined to stay some invisible course she was now on.

Once, late in the morning following an extremely difficult episode after which Ardon had recommended a visit to Euroaquilo, she confided, "There is a shroud of darkness that veils my path and I feel grief and dismay lying in wait should I remain on this road. Yet I see a bottomless chasm of indescribable anguish and eternal hopelessness if I wander one foot-breadth from the trail."

She then tenderly kissed Ardon on the lips and, in the silence of her cabin, where no other ears could hear, sadly whispered, "I was born a child of shame, bastard daughter of an evil time, abandoned to despair. Even those loving me feared the abomination growing within." Ardon was shocked by the woman's revelation, but said nothing. As tears grew, she went on. "Even my rape I dared not confess to anyone. Few men have dared to share their dreams with me, lest they might contract my sickness. In their eyes, I am undesirable and ugly. No man could be found to gift me at my coming of age. All stood away in fear of what I had become. I was well into my fourth decade before there arose one brave enough to risk me...and he, at the request of Mother."

Darla mourned, "A woman alone and empty I became, bitter in heart and soul. So I lifted up my arm and gave my strength to the gods of war. Upon the fields of blood, I found solace and my sword became my lover." She turned her head away and quietly wept. Ardon remained silent, not able to find any words of consolation. She sadly choked out, "I have had but one friend to comfort me all these troubled years. And now, even it harkens me on to death." The weeping continued.

In time, the girl stopped her tears and spoke more of this friend. "It appears as a lilting musical voice in my head. In times of need, it sings sweetly or becomes silent, depending the given direction I am considering at the moment. Its song has never betrayed me to my enemy, nor has it brought me to calamity. Indeed, many a time it has preserved my soul alive. The music brought me to you, and I have not regretted my decision to pay heed to its call. It is the music that keeps me on this path I now follow."

She then took Ardon's hand and gently stroked it. He watched Darla's face, her sadness reflected in the glow from lighted diodes on the panel near the door. The girl sighed sadly in remorse, "The music no longer plays for me when I think of returning to my Lord Euroaquilo. There is a veil of uncertainty that has risen between us. The cause for it I do not know. He hinted to me of future doom and unwanted parting. I believe he has dreamed and seen my demise. Maybe he hopes that, through my destruction, the demon will be forced from me, and maybe, in my rebirth... that is, if I attain it... my sickness will be gone."

Ardon attempted some encouragement, but Darla hushed him. "I go where the music sends me. I will not falter from that path. Should I live or die, it is of little consequence to me, for I am but an unwanted living abortion in a troubled universe. My passing will be marked with a collective sigh from all those upon whom I have intruded." She looked into his face, resigned acceptance showing on hers. "I will at least be at peace."

Ardon was overwhelmed with shame, for viewing this child the way he had. How selfish... No, how wicked he had been, refusing to recognize Darla's feelings, worse, her needs. He had avoided the child after their first encounter in the palace, viewing her as little more than a deformed household pet, something to be pitied from a distance. For nearly six millennia he had been privy to girl's struggles and yet he never once felt real empathy for her nor did he ever speak up in her defense. Ardon wished that he could somehow disappear into nothingness.

Suddenly Ardon's attention was drawn to the mess hall door. Raucous laughter came from the outer passage, and then...

" _The smell of vittles all thrown in a pot._

The stronger the odor, the more moldy the lot.

Don't cry o'er it Sally, it'll spoil the gin.

Davy Jones' locker is where we'll all end.

So, away with sad faces and raise up the mug.

Smile at death as you drink down the suds."

Jebbson stepped through the door, closely followed by Leftenant Ilanit. Viewing the astonished faces, they belted out the final refrain.

" _The cannons will rumble and the muskets will roll._

When the battle is finished, our food will be cold."

The entire room was stunned into dead silence. Gradually, one and then another of the seated officers rose, applauding this maker of boisterous merriment. Finally Colonel Darla stood, her scowling face unable to hide twinkling eyes. "So, Major Garlock, has the emptiness of open space finally gotten to your brain, or have you been examining our liquor stores a little too closely?"

Jebbson gracefully dipped into a deep bow, his arm sweeping out in a graceful, extended salute. He stood and offered a toothy smile. "My dear Queen Adaya, commander of a fearsome host, I have just now arrived from the chores of tedious labors. Your leftenant and I are near delirious with hunger. Please forgive us our little tryst should it have offended any valiant warriors among you. I shall take my beating as proscribed by law, but please spare the fair one who travels with me." He bowed again.

Laughter erupted, drowning any further comment Darla may have wished to make. Instead she motioned Jebbson and her leftenant, Ilanit, to join them at the table. The mess hall quieted, but not nearly to the level it had been earlier. Long was the song remembered and oft was it repeated to others.

Courage and determination are drawn from many sources during war. It has been said that death is easier to face with a song on your lips. Whether that is so or not, Jebbson's little ditty was put to tune and became a standard for many a brave warrior entering battle.

# Cold Supper

The smell of vittles all thrown in a pot.

The stronger the odor, the more moldy the lot.

Don't cry o'er it Sally, it'll spoil the gin.

Davy Jones' locker is where we'll all end.

Davy Jones' locker is where we'll all end.

So away with sad faces and raise up the mug.

Smile at death as you drink down the suds.

The cannons will rumble and the muskets will roll.

When the battle is finished our food will be cold.

When the battle is finished our food will be cold.

Places were set for the new arrivals. Jebbson graciously accepted Darla's invitation to sit next to her and leftenant Ilanit sidled up on Jebbson's other. The conversation soon turned to the work at hand. "So, major," Ardon asked, "have you found bountiful pickings thus far, out in the wilderness?"

Jebbson nodded as he grappled with what appeared to be a piece of roasted beef, which was, in reality, reconstituted protein, fat, other nutrients and spices that had been molecularly altered to look like roasted beef. Before replying to Ardon's question, he commented, "Some things don't change. No matter the army, the meat is tough, the bread is dry, and" he picked up his knife, "these are dull."

After receiving acknowledgment, he answered Ardon. "The resources of these outer colonies are truly abundant, too much so may I add. Indeed, my good major, it is for this very reason we had been dallying at our duty. As you may well know, what is not slated for removal must be destroyed. Our severe shortage of transports and convoy escorts hinders our ability to salvage more. It pains me deeply when I think of the great amount of priceless machinery and supplies I have ordered ruined."

Jebbson cut another piece of his beef. As he munched, he remarked, "It does taste good." He swallowed. "Time is fleeting and it is taking me far too long to make a thorough appraisal of matters. I'm being forced to alter our schedule a little. Leftenant Ilanit suggested we send OjibSheannon and it escorts along with some transports north to the Tolkah Bay colonies. We will travel east toward the QuinStinre Basin, picking up the nearby colonies along the way. After turning north, we will reunite with OjibSheannon and cut back through the center of the Trizentine, making contact with whatever remaining colonies that time permits."

Ardon was surprised. Concerned, he asked, "Is it wise to make such a change of plan and also split our strength? I have heard that the Stasis have become increasingly bold, attacking escorted convoys, even raiding some of the larger towns in the outer colonies. There are also rumors that a powerful enemy fleet may be hiding just past the Frontier to our east, and some of the enemy's ships have joined up with the Stasis raiding parties."

Jebbson glanced at Darla and then back to Ardon. He picked up a crust of bread, smothered deep in buttery goo. As if talking to the bread, Jebbson replied, "Rumors are often fact hidden in doubt and uncertainty. What you say may well be true, but do not count our hand short or think us foolhardy."

He paused a moment to make a closer examination of the bread. "Shikkeron is an imperial brigantine, nearly of frigate class in firepower and defense. And it is not alone in this wilderness. In the vicinity are transport convoys protected by four cutters, two barks and a small host of the new Wolf Pack Class II Patrol Boats. It is true, our immediate defenses will be limited to Shikkeron and its half dozen onboard fighters. Still, I doubt the Stasis have the stomach to take on a ship of this size."

Jebbson took a chomp of the bread and, through his chewing, commented, "Besides, we have the ghosts of Christmas past haunting these waters. Their eyes are constantly searching our path and making the sea calm before us."

Ilanit piped up, "What is 'ghosts of Christmas past'?"

Darla looked at Jebbson, giving him pause. Her eyes then swept the room before flashing him a hint of cold that no one else noticed.

Jebbson nonchalantly took another bite of his bread before answering. "It is a whisper of what was and yet is, but may never have been. It rides upon the back of wistfulness and gives hope where none exists." He swallowed, lifted his head, smiled, and, slowly shaking it from side to side, exclaimed with relish, "Ahhhh," then looked at Ilanit, sighing, "home made bread...nothing like it."

Ilanit asked again what the term meant. Jebbson replied, "You are a most inquisitive darling. Even your dreams are full of questions." He cut another piece of meat and chewed it down. Then leaning close and lowering his voice, he cautioned her, "When one knows the night is close, the darkness presses them ever more." He changed the subject to other matters.

Ardon was very confused about the whole discussion, but did understand enough to know there were other safeguards in place that were not common knowledge to the crew. Seeing his concern, Jebbson reassured him, "Captain Bedan and Colonel Adaya have been in council over this matter. Home fleet has also approved our decision." Then he winked, "What's wrong? With current plans, we'll be in Exothepobole in eight days. Don't you want to see your girl?"

When Ardon comprehended what Jebbson was telling them, his face lit up in a grin from ear to ear. Tashi! Oh how his heart had desired seeing her again! In fact, when he was informed of this assignment, his hope was to spend some time with the woman he was so fond of.

Jebbson reached across the table and patted Ardon's arm. "Sustrepho's colonies are spread across a vast landscape. I figured on making Exothepobole our home base while my team explores the other cites on the planet. If you can talk your colonel into getting some leave, you may have near a week to spend in your lady's company." Then he nodded toward Ardon. "The timing of our visit isn't commonly known. Security and all that, you know."

Ardon hurried with the remainder of his meal and then quietly excused himself. As he stood to leave, Darla touched his arm and nervously asked, her eyes pleading, "Major, you will have some time later?"

Ardon grasped her hand, smiling reassuringly. "I have a few duties that need attending to. I shall not be late or forgetful." He excused himself and said parting goodbyes.

* * *

Time went by quickly. Shikkeron made two stops during the first four days. They were small colonies and it took little time to conclude business. Weeks earlier, notice had been sent to the cities in the Trizentine requesting the district councils to have manifests prepared listing manufacturing locations and supplies. Shortly following this, teams descended on the colonies to assist with the process. When Jebbson arrived, he would finalize recommendations as to what items were to be salvaged, then, with the approval of the city's council, make arrangements to demolish the remainder.

(Author's note _: Do not mistake this selective removal and destruction of industry with the '_ _Day of_ _Black Fire_ _'. That '_ _scorched earth_ _policy' was implemented at a later time, and was carried out with direct orders from Admiral Gabrielle, with the full knowledge and good graces of Mihai, the king. To this day, there are those who argue the burning of the Trizentine, stating the minor strategic and commercial value of the region. Some point out that the damage done has not been healed down to our time and that many treasured antiquities were obliterated needlessly._

_Let me say this, as an observer and student of your history and an inquisitor of the_ _Kings War_ _. The elimination of a multi-star system culture and the annihilation of ageless buildings and priceless works of art were regrettable, but were justified. I feel that the wholesale destruction of the Trizentine and the subsequent devastation of border cities in other star systems weakened the enemy's resolve in several ways, thus proving the worth of such strategy._

Throughout vast areas of space, the enemy found no spoils or lodging. This forced all necessary supplies to be transported across great distances, thus depriving the enemy of many frontline warships which were sent to protect transport convoys. More importantly, it served notice that even should Lowenah's children be defeated, there would be no booty gained for all the labor and sacrifice put into the victory. The psychological impact of such knowledge, I believe, reduced the fervency of the opposing forces, often helping tip the scales of war in our favour.

When Mihai's armies finally went on the offensive, they took the Black Fire strategy along with them, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins in their wake. This disheartened the enemy, preventing them from mounting any serious counteroffensives, knowing there would be nothing left to return to. From one end of Asotos' realm to it furthest extremities, this meting of justice was carried out, leaving little evidence of his vast kingdom that once threatened the Children's Empire.)

To stay on schedule, Captain Bedan and Colonel AdayaDarla decided to bypass other smaller colonies and make a straight shot for Exothepobole. Shikkeron left the main trade routes and cut across uncharted territory.

Late in the afternoon of the third day out from Sustrepho, the officers and crew were jolted when Shikkeron's engines automatically kicked in reverse thrusters, slamming the ship to a near stop, hurtling objects off shelves and flinging people to the floor. Red, flashing emergency lights accompanied by an ear-numbing bleating of warning sirens sent all off-duty crewmembers scurrying to battle stations.

In seconds, Bedan and Darla were on the bridge, Bedan sporting only a towel and covered with suds and Darla wearing a well-pronounced bleeding gash across her forehead from being hit by flying debris.

Running toward the first officer, Bedan shouted, "What's happened?! Are we under attack?!"

The first officer's face was deathly white as he gripped the rail overlooking the operations deck just below. It was all that had saved him from being flung from the bridge when the ship's engines reversed. Staring at the captain, the officer stuttered in shock and astonishment, "I...I don't know, sir. I don't know."

Bedan leaned over the rail, shouting, "Damage reports! Give us damage reports! What's the crew status?! Give us an injury report!"

Silently Darla stood there attempting to wipe away some of the blood that was oozing into her eyes.

Bedan again asked the bridge officer what happened. He repeated what he had said, adding, "All systems were fine. We were lining up on the Nortaien Nebula **,** preparing to do a course correction when we suddenly hit what felt like an invisible wall. I don't know what we've slammed into."

The forward deck officer called up to the bridge, "Captain, we've lost all external sensors! All communications systems are down and the visual screens are dead!"

The first damage reports came in, indicating the ship was unharmed. Captain Bedan ordered the alarm system reset. Injuries were relatively light, mostly bruises and cuts. There were a few broken bones and a cook's helper was burned when the contents from a boiling pot of stew flew across the kitchen. Other than the general mess created when the ship stopped, little harm had occurred.

Bedan stepped to a porthole and his eyes grew wide with wonder. Excitedly he called out for Darla to have a look. Blinking away blood, Darla stared into a smoky gray universe of static energy. Off in the distance there were flashes of magnetic discharges and, at times, blue-white sheets of lightning would roll past the ship. Darla whispered fearfully, "Get Ardon up here, Captain. He may know what this is."

It took some time to find Ardon. He had been sorting packages in the baggage room when the ship stopped, and had struggled extricating himself from the tumbled boxes. By the time he reached the captain's bridge, the ship's doctor had sutured Darla's wound and placed a clean bandage over it. The grave look on the captain's face coupled with the drying soap in his hair and he still wearing a wet towel painted a picture that was both surreal and comedic. Ardon almost laughed until he spied Darla with her blood-spattered blue uniform and a bandage that nearly hid one eye. "Whew, looks like there's been a hot time around here!"

Darla dispensed with formalities, pointing out the portal. "Major, can you tell us what that is?"

Ardon hesitantly stepped up to the porthole to get a better look. He breathed a sigh of relief. "That looks much like the fields of the Nebulan Cloud Bank to me."

"How can that be!?" Bedan wondered. "It's at least a fourteen day hard run west-southwest of here." He waved his arm toward the window, asking sarcastically, "How do you explain this?"

Ardon turned away from the porthole, smiling knowingly, "While it's true that the body of the Nebulan Cloud Bank is light years away, its fingers wander far from home."

Bedan fumed in disbelief, "Its fingers? Man, what are you talking about?"

Ardon began his lengthy explanation. "The body of the Nebulan Cloud Bank is filled with dust and debris that has slowly drifted into it since the universe's beginning. There is enough mass accumulated in the body to make the Bank visible to the eye. But the matter that makes the cloud has not arrived there by chance."

He motioned out the portal. "Entering into the cloud - actually a better name for it would be 'sea' - are countless rivers of energy that snake their way across this entire part of the galaxy, weaving in and out of stars systems and stretching far beyond the outer frontier. These rivers gather up any material that drifts into them, slowly drawing it toward the cloud's body, much the same as water flows to the sea."

Ardon was enjoying being the center of attention again. It had been such a long time. He continued with his drawn out explanation. "Some of the rivers are vast, being thousands of leagues across and powerful enough to suck massive asteroids along in their current. Tributaries may be little more than several hundred cubits wide. I'm sure you have all encountered them, they being so common. Usually they are dismissed as space anomalies and not investigated."

He peered into the cosmic storm surrounding the ship. "The energy here is not like any known beyond the Cloud Bank. When outside the river, so to speak - because it is like a huge channel that snakes back and forth across space - one cannot see the river and there exists no known instruments able to detect it. Once inside this flowing force field, the energy envelops the ship in some kind of a cosmic swaddling band that makes us part of the river, giving us sight into the invisible, including other objects being carried along in the river's flow."

Ardon rested his hand on the side of the hull. "We are presently in the river's grip, and it's drawing us toward the Nebulan Cloud Bank. In a nice leisurely cruise of, say, a half-million years, we will find ourselves in the heart of that vast cosmic sea."

"That's all well and dandy," Bedan scoffed, "if we were on a lazy cruise! Tell me, are we stuck here until that time, or is there a way out?"

Ardon didn't like to be chided by a child of the Last Age. He warned, "My dear Captain, if you seek the help of an Ancient, you'd better remember your place! I play the soldier only to a limit!"

Accepting his chastisement, Bedan apologized for his sharpness. "Major, please forgive me for such unprovoked disrespect. I was out of line."

Ardon graciously accepted Bedan's apology.

Bedan continued, "As you are aware, we have had a near calamity and do not know the solution to our dilemma. If you are able to assist us, I would be most appreciative."

Ardon said he could. "The engines automatically thrust themselves into reverse because of the total failure of all external data. Without it, the ship's computers were incapable of making a reasonable diagnosis of the situation. Stopping was the only viable solution, the most logical one considering they are programmed to respond first to the needs of the crew. If you had been in manual control, this ship would have blasted into the channel at full speed, possibly just passing through, or maybe slamming into a huge piece of space junk. Let me warn you, energy shields don't function well here. You should be thankful for the quick action of your computers. By returning the ship to manual operation, you will regain full control of the engines. Next, you can set your mark by using a gravitational compass on a fixed location having great enough mass to register on the compass. I have found that gravitational compasses are unaffected by these rivers. Then, while looking into the cosmic river for dangerous objects, you can slowly navigate the channel."

The captain was anxious. "We have little time. Is there no faster way?"

Ardon drew out his reply. "Why y-e-sssss, there is." He paused to see Bedan's response. Bedan got the point and patiently waited on Ardon's reply.

Satisfied, he continued, "There are two ways. If we were sufficiently equipped with sensitive gravitational guidance and warning systems, we could resume reasonable speed. Seeing we don't have that - surprising no one has bothered to develop a good one yet - I can assist you through this river."

"Good! Good!" Bedan excitedly replied. Then catching himself so as not to raise Ardon's ire again, he humbly requested, "Would you be so good as to help us out of this dilemma?"

Ardon nodded stoically, but inside he bubbled with joy. This was the first time since leaving Palace City that he felt of any real use at all. They needed his help to navigate this cosmic river, something easy for him to do, but nearly impossible for Lowenah's younger children. For that matter, it was the same for all Lowenah's children, seeing that Ardon was the only person who knew about these rivers.

Ardon first recommended that Bedan finish his bath while the ship made ready. "All things considered, our passage should be safe enough. Still...better tie down the hatches, just in case." He added, "We should also rig for silent running. I will need to think my way through the channel. Keeping it quiet will assist me greatly."

All unnecessary operating systems were ordered shut down, including nonessential life support, and the lights were dimmed in the bridge area. Soon everything was in order. When Captain Bedan returned to the bridge, Ardon took the helm, his hands on the bridge's rail. The navigation officer stood on Ardon's left and the steerage officer to his right. Any command he gave was done in little more than a whisper and it was relayed as quietly as possible. Colonel AdayaDarla and Major Jebbson Garlock were the only other observers on the captain's bridge.

Ardon called out to the observation crew stationed at the front portals, "Stay awake up there and call out as soon as you see anything, even though it appears only to be a speck. At six leagues a second, things get big real fast." He closed his eyes and gave the order to get under way.

What would have taken only several seconds to cross if Shikkeron were up to operating speed, consumed nearly four hours. During that entire time, Ardon stood on the captain's bridge, eyes closed and head up like some beast sniffing the breeze. At times, he would call out a slight course or speed correction, the steerage officer quietly sounding the order to the engine room. Then, momentarily, a lookout would speak up, warning the others of some distant speck. In only seconds, the ship's path might take it streaking past a giant chunk of space rubbish at times much larger than Shikkeron, itself.

Captain Bedan had let out an audible "Phew!" after one space rock twirled by within only yards, instantly to be followed by another even larger one twice its size hurtling by on the opposite side. The smaller of the asteroids was a day's walk in breadth and three times it in length. His face was grave as he glanced at Darla, his uncertainty of Ardon's navigational abilities showing in his eyes. She nodded and smiled, indicating her complete trust in Major Ardon's expertise. Her faith and trust was no solace for Bedan. Several more grueling hours and dozens of galactic encounters passed before he could relax.

Eventually, Ardon requested the ship be slowed until it came nearly to a stop. The lookouts in the bow called back, saying they saw distant lights that appeared to be stars. Ardon turned to Bedan and smugly grinned, saying with a note of satisfaction, "Captain, we are standing at the edge of the universe. You are looking through the outer membrane of the channel. As you may notice, the energy field has not loosened its grip on us, so your sensory machinery is still down. Likewise, no one on the other side of that wall knows we're here."

Bedan silently stared out the porthole in wonder. He was greatly relieved but also very curious about what he witnessed regarding Ardon's abilities and this unbelievable journey they had just finished. Ardon could see these questions in the captain's eyes. As he observed Bedan's composure, he became troubled in thought. For all these years he had prided himself in believing he understood people by reading faces, but he had failed to understand a great truism: to a person without heart, the face reveals only the animal nature of the person - hate, fear, lust, and so forth. The human nature, love, is deep water that must be searched for to find. Ardon realized that, in his foolish pride, he had rarely desired to look beyond his own shimmering reflection seen on the surface of that deep water.

Setting those thoughts aside for another time, Ardon reached out and gripped Bedan's shoulder, smiling. "Captain, you and your crew are the first people to have ever crossed the full width of the BaalRohab ( _meaning 'Master in Breadth'_ ). It is one of the major trunk lines leading to the Nebulan Cloud Bank. Its distance I do not know, for I have never journeyed its full length. Considering its size at this point, it must stretch far across the galaxy to yet undiscovered star systems."

Bedan shook his head in awe and asked, "How can it be that a man knows times and seasons with just thought? The river was wide and dangerous. Yet you not only knew how to navigate us safely through the hidden dangers, you speak of it with distinction as though it were charted on a map."

Ardon turned to Bedan, politely offering, "Time is a tool given as a gift to gain wisdom and knowledge. One day you will learn how to use your mind to do even greater things and master greater mysteries than you have seen today." He looked at Darla, commenting, "One day I may learn how to understand other mysteries I am only beginning to comprehend." Ardon gave Bedan another gentle tug, looking him in the eye. "Captain, the ship is yours. I feel she is none the worse for wear having been in my control." With that, Ardon excused himself and went back to other duties.

Captain Bedan invited Darla and Jebbson to remain on the bridge as he navigated the final distance of the Great BaalRohab Trunk Line. The edge of the channel did feel much like a membrane, resisting Shikkeron so that it had to increase thrust to push its way through the outer wall and back into open space. The river's powerful energy field reluctantly let go, gradually giving the ship freedom from its grasp.

Darla commented, "I can see why Ardon calls it a 'river'. Without our internal power to fight against that energy, we would have drifted hopelessly on, trapped in its eternal current." Bedan nodded in agreement.

In short order, all systems were back on line. Shikkeron was preparing to reengage main drives and get back on course when Darla noticed the communications officer being motioned over to a signal station. He conferred a moment and then placed the operator's headset to his ear. In seconds, he was hurrying toward the captain's bridge. The officer stopped up short and called out to Captain Bedan, "We have a coded message of distress coming from an unidentified ship located about two hours Q-south and west of our current location!"

Bedan leaned over the rail and asked, "You say the ship hasn't identified itself?"

"No, sir," the officer replied. "The distress signal is being sent using the most recent code, though. It was changed only three weeks ago. Do you want me to reply?"

Captain Bedan pondered the situation. Darla watched the anxiety on his face, making a mental note of how slowly he might respond in an emergency. She chose to say nothing, waiting patiently for him to come to a decision.

After a long delay, Bedan spoke up. "Send out a coded message asking who they are. Don't reveal our name or position."

It took several minutes for a return message. There was caution in the wordage of the reply, making Bedan nervous. The ship also refused to identify itself. He ordered another message be sent, demanding to know the ship's need for assistance and to make proper declaration.

The message returned, citing the problem. The ship's cooling tanks had ruptured. Although now repaired, the damage of the released caustic gasses had contaminated their supply of thallium oxysulfide, preventing them from re-igniting the atomizing boilers. The ship still refused to reveal its name, but it did send an encrypted message in code. When deciphered, it read, 'The royal dogs sound at the call of the prey, and shall rent the cub from its mother's mouth.'

Bedan called Darla and the first mate over to him to examine this strangest of communiqués. They quizzed back and forth over what the line could possibly mean. It was obvious that, for some reason, good or bad, the commander of the ship-in-distress did not want to advertise its presence in this region. With out knowing who it was, Bedan felt it wise to pass along the distress call to fleet command by coded message and be on their way.

Darla hesitated, a nervous unease growing within her heart. She asked to see the paper the message was written on. For some time she stood there, silently studying the coded script.

Bedan was about to interrupt when suddenly Darla cried out, "It's a riddle!" She began to excitedly gesture, exclaiming, "Here! Look at this!" She pointed to the writing. "The 'royal dogs' sound' is a bark, read 'barquentine', a royal...say imperial barquentine." Darla then pointed to the other part of the line. "See! 'Shall rent the cub from its mother's mouth', or to tear apart with a violent separation, or to divulse the cub from its mother. I believe we are receiving a message from the imperial barquentine, Divulsion!"

"That's impossible!" exclaimed Bedan. "We have received no reports of that ship or any other fleet vessel in this quadrant!"

Darla quietly replied, "I had heard whispers that there might be a patrol sent to this region to investigate rumors of an enemy fleet hereabouts." She was careful not to tell Bedan how she knew or other details she was privy to.

"Can you really be sure?" Bedan nervously asked, adding, "If the enemy has wandered into our territory, it would be dangerous for us all. How can we be sure it's not a trap? We are but one ship."

Darla calmly but soundly replied, "Shikkeron is an imperial brigantine! It is of nearly frigate class!" She looked into Bedan's eyes, seeing the uncertainty hiding there. "Look! We have a duty to protect our brothers and sisters at arms. If the enemy is there, we must find it and, in the least, report our discovery to the fleet before we are torn asunder. But we must take the risk! We have no other choice."

Bedan haltingly agreed as he reread the message Darla handed back to him. He finally called down to the communications officer, "Tell them Shikkeron is coming to their aid." He turned back to Darla. "If we are to die today, our enemy will know who they face."

Shikkeron slowly turned to starboard and made way toward an unknown destiny.

* * *

Salak was humming a little tune while polishing his newly delivered suit of armor. The gold shone brightly, reflecting the flaming red of the new uniform laid out on the bunk. As he reached into a freshly opened package to retrieve a new helmet, a knock came at the door.

Either not hearing the knock or choosing to ignore it, Salak pulled the helmet from the package, holding it up with both hands. A broad grin spread across his face as he examined it at arm's length.

The outer shell of the helmet was shaped in the form of some hideous mythical beast. It had a nosepiece that swept down the center of the face, ending in a horn that divided in two, spreading out and down, creating a mouth guard. There were four horns protruding from just in front of the helmet's beastly ears, two on each side, growing out from the same root. One circled up and forward, tapering to a fine point just over the nosepiece and slightly overlapping the horn coming in from the other side of the helmet. The second horn dropped low and swung forward and around, passing out in front of the points of the nosepiece horns and intertwining at the end in a wraparound fashion with the matching horn from the other side of the helmet. The reddish gold of the helm was accented by the horns that shimmered ghostly, translucent white. On the crown of the helm, above the brow horns, huge red rubies cut in the shape of a serpent's eyes, glared out in anger.

The annoying knock came again.

Salak grunted contemptuously, "To Hell with you! Be off or die!"

A timid voice called out from beyond the door, "My Lord Salak, please forgive the interruption, but there is an urgent message from command."

"You'd better be telling me right" Salak threatened, "or I'll make a woman of ya!" He stood and slipped the helmet over his head and studied his appearance in the mirror. Smiling with satisfaction, he called out, "You may enter."

The panel door slid aside. The officer peered in and, seeing Salak, threw his hands up, exclaiming, "Oh, my Lord!"

Salak stood there naked except for the helmet, hands made into fists pressed against the sides of his pelvis, elbows out. He stuck his face out and snarled, then straightened up, asking, "Well, what do you think, Lieutenant Namir?"

The lieutenant hesitated, aware of the importance of choosing the right words. Salak was a relatively small man, standing just over five foot and six inches. He was small boned and, since the Rebellion, had developed a pronounced roundness in his shoulders. He was very sensitive about his stature, so chose to wear imposing garb that made him look bigger than real life. Standing naked while donning the overly large helmet made him look a somewhat comical sight, but the lieutenant was astute enough to know the foolishness of displaying any humor.

"My Lord, it is most magnificent!" Lieutenant Namir watched Salak squint in discontent. "It is terrifyingly magnificent! You are a genius, my Lord! The enemy will flee in fright when you make your appearance in battle!"

Salak grinned from ear to ear with delight as the lieutenant breathed a sigh of relief.

Raising a fist high while strutting back and forth, Salak went on a rant. "I shall crush Erithia's bastard children! Their eyes I will squeeze from their sockets! The breasts of the women I shall cut off and feed to my dogs! I will make them eat their own innards! I will castrate the men and make the women gulp down their private parts!"

On and on he went in his wild tirade, describing every form of torture and mutilation one could imagine that he was going to heap on Lowenah's children. He suddenly stopped mid stride and turned toward the lieutenant. In a sweet, charming voice, he asked, "What is the message we have received from command?"

The lieutenant, somewhat relieved, jerked his hand up with the written message and, extending it, answered, "Command has sent us information regarding the whereabouts of Shikkeron. They say our spies have reported that four days from today it is supposed to arrive at Exothepobole." A smile grew on Lieutenant Namir's face. "Even better news, my Lord, Shikkeron split up with OjibSheannon and its other armed escorts, sending them to Tolkah Bay. They aren't scheduled to reunite until arriving somewhere in the QuinStinre Basin area."

Salak whooped with glee, smashing a fist into his opened palm. He shouted, "There, you little fat man,( _referring to Godenn_ ) I got the bitch-girl and that dumb-ass, Ardon, right where I want them! In a few days, I'll be frigging the life out of 'em both and they'll be beggin' my mercy!" He paused, eyes filled with passionate lust, his mouth making smacking noises. "And that off-worlder is with 'em. I shall soon see what he feels like, too." He broke out in maniacal laughter, envisioning himself with his captives.

When he tired of dreaming his fantasies, Salak issued orders. "Lieutenant, call up the ships. I want the entire squadron gathered. Tell 'em to collect at Mikros Point, just to the west of QuinStinre's twin suns. Have them meet us there by the twenty-third. If we make straight for Exothepobole from there, we will be over it five days from now. By that time, our guests should be snugly bedded down in the city, the impotent Shikkeron shackled to one of the city's skyport quays."

Lieutenant Namir snapped to attention, presenting a smart salute and prepared to leave. Salak stopped him. "And Lieutenant..." he waved a threatening finger, "you let those Stasis captains know I mean for them to bring all their ships, got it?"

Lieutenant Namir saluted again and stuttered, "Y..y..yes, Sir! Bring all their ships! Yes, Sir!" He hurried off to deliver Salak's commands to the communications officer.

* * *

Shikkeron had slowed to little more than a crawl, feeling its way through a very dangerous asteroid field. Bedan nervously paced the captain's bridge, Darla quietly sitting below on the operations bridge, watching two of the navigation screens. Unable to use its primary drives, Divulsion had drifted into this vast ocean of jagged stone, fending off certain destruction by sparing use of its retro rockets. It was caught in a graceful spinning motion, slowly twirling end over end. Unless its crew could bring the ship under control, there was nothing Shikkeron could do but watch.

Hour after grueling hour they followed along behind Divulsion, keeping in constant short band communication. It was nearing four in the morning Palace Time (all Navy clocks were set to Palace time) when the captain of Divulsion communicated his inability to regain control of lateral steerage. He also confessed their continued power loss, calculating the ship had about six more hours of retro-control. With shield energy nearly exhausted, once power to the control rockets was gone, it would only be a matter of time before the ship was destroyed.

Bedan called his officers to the bridge, asking Darla if she and her immediate lieutenants would join them. Soon an intense discussion ensued as one officer after another offered hopeful suggestions for saving Divulsion. The only possible solution that any in the group accepted that might be successful was to physically deliver thallium oxysulfide by some form of shuttle system. Arguments continued over how to make the delivery, some strongly recommending a drone be used, others suggesting a tethered bot.

Bedan deemed both suggestions untenable. "Look," he observed, pointing toward one of the viewing screens, "we have been unable to come within thirty leagues of her for fear of a collision. You well know that although doing little more than drifting, we are still clipping along at nearly two leagues per second. At this distance, we have no tether line long enough to reach Divulsion." Taking another glance at the screen, he commented on the drone. "One of the machines found on some of the fleet's newer ships might have a chance, but the junk we have aboard wouldn't survive in that rock field thirty furlongs, let alone thirty leagues."

Jebbson had been quietly observing, considering himself as being little more than an invited intruder at these proceedings. He finally spoke up, introducing a solution the others had been unwilling to consider. "Then we must make delivery using a piloted machine." The bridge became silent. Likelihood of survival in a small, piloted craft was little better than that of a drone. No known shuttle or fighter had a force shield solid enough to protect against a hit from a meteor hurtling through space at possible speeds reaching thousands of miles per second. The odds of success would be slim at best.

Finally resigned to such a fate, Bedan sighed, "Prepare a shuttle for transfer of supplies to Divulsion. I'll need a copilot."

Ardon began to raise his hand to make an offer, but Darla pushed it down, stepping forward and gripping Bedan's arm. "No, Captain, your place is with this ship. Besides, a shuttle doesn't stand a chance against what's out there."

Bedan began to argue, but Darla interrupted, reasoning, "A fighter will be more maneuverable and its guidance system more sensitive. Let me use one to make the needed delivery."

Shaking his head, Bedan countered, "Divulsion is my responsibility! I cannot ask anyone else to take such a risk." He peered into Darla's troubled face. "Besides, a fighter doesn't have the carrying capacity to hold the volume of needed materials. And we can't risk two trips."

Darla realized just how futile it would be for Bedan to attempt such a delivery. He was not a skilled pilot - at least not skilled enough to manage this. She even doubted that Ardon could succeed in a shuttle. Desperate, she argued, "Captain Bedan, Divulsion carries a complement of Marines...my Marines! I am the commanding Marine officer in charge of this quadrant. Those people are in my charge! My responsibility!" She then recalled something else. "Shikkeron carries two of the ancient T-4's. They're slow and awkward in combat, but they are fat, with more than adequate storage space for all the thallium oxysulfide Divulsion needs to get going. And..." She poked Bedan on his chest, "I am an experienced pilot with that machine, having flown over three thousand combat hours in one."

Captain Bedan shook his head and waved his hands in objection. Leftenant Ilanit stepped forward. "I, too, have time in those machines. I'll be Colonel Adaya's navigator."

Darla's voice was tensing with anxiety. "Captain, time is slipping away! Please. give me the fighter! Let me do my job! What good is a life if it can't be offered in the service of others?!"

Surrendering to the women's arguments, Bedan lowered his head, choking out, "God's speed..."

Attendants busily worked at securing Darla and Ilanit into their seats while crews scurried to ready the fighter for flight. The plane's storage bay wasn't of sufficient size to satisfy Divulsion's need for thallium oxysulfide. Finally it was suggested that the main liquid fuel tank be emptied and sealed to permit the remaining amount to be put in there. This limited the T-4 to a maximum flight time of thirty-six minutes, long enough under normal conditions, but woefully short given the current set of circumstances. Should the fighter be forced to abandon its mission, there would not be enough fuel to allow a safe return to Shikkeron. Knowing this, Darla ordered life support systems be cut to one hour. She felt it better not to prolong the inevitable should the worst occur. She had said to Bedan after making that decision, "There will be no good reason for you to attempt a rescue if we fail. No need to risk others in such foolishness."

As she sat in the pilot's seat, running down a checklist, Bedan poked his head through the cabin door. He took one final moment to thank the colonel for her selfless bravery and then cautioned, "Colonel Adaya, the chemical you're carrying is very unstable. We couldn't add any neutralizers, fearing there wouldn't be time for Divulsion to draw them off before losing all power. It's possible that one hard jolt from a piece of space rock could trigger a reaction that might ignite the material, creating a raging inferno reaching several thousand degrees. Please be careful..."

Darla smiled, waxing sarcastic. "It sounds to me like we shouldn't have need for concern. Our suits should be good for, uh, maybe three tenths of a second at those temperatures."

Bedan made a poor attempt at seeing the humor in Darla's comment. He patted her on the arm and then offered some words of appreciation to Leftenant Ilanit before exiting back down the ladder.

In a moment, Ardon appeared in the cabin's doorway. An attendant was busy forward, locking down Ilanit's helmet and helping secure her harness and safety gear. Ardon took Darla's helmet from her hands and assisted her with it. Then he checked her safety harness and her suit's life support systems.

Darla's face shield remained opened. When Ardon's ear was close enough, she whispered, "Ardon, I go to my doom! The music doesn't play for me!"

Ardon looked into Darla's face, surprised. For the first time, he saw fear in the eyes of a most brave warrior. He rested his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. "Colonel Adaya, it will be fine..."

Darla was in tears as she slowly shook her head. "No! No! Not this time. I have cried out to my mother and I feel nothing...nothing! I am one cast away, having foolishly made a hopeless choice by deviating from my destined path! I have also condemned my sister to my fate..."

Ardon reached out and touched Darla's face. Never before had he seen such beauty and innocence, strength and frailty, determination and doubt, all at the same time. Darla believed her death was imminent and that she had been abandoned because of her reckless decision.

Ardon did not believe it. "No, dear one, I do not think this to be your day of destruction. You are wise, but still a child. Many are the tools our mother has handed you. Today you must use those you possess to succeed. Remember your sister, Mihai's, words, 'No greater love does a man have than to give his life up in behalf of his brothers.' Mother would never abandon you...you have too much love."

He gave the girl a tender kiss on her forehead. "Now, Colonel Adaya, use what has been given you. Upon you we place our trust. But should you fail, know this: there are none better qualified and more able to accomplish this task. Divulsion's only hope lies in you. If you were not here today, they would have no hope at all."

Darla slid the face shield closed and checked out its seal. Through the communication device, she offered parting salutations. Ardon cautioned her to keep the helmet locked. "Just in case, you know..." He hesitated, looking deep into the shiny, black surface of the face shield. "See you in a bit..." He squeezed her arm, then pulled himself back through the door and stepped down the ladder.

Ilanit's attendant finished her work, closing the door and checking its seal before having the wheeled ladder pulled away. Yellow caution lights flashed while a blatting siren sounded, warning work crews to clear the staging area. A catapult platform slowly rotated the T-4 into exit position. When ready, Darla ignited main thrusters, giving them a few seconds to warm up. Then, looking into Shikkeron's windowed control room, she gave the ready signal. With a loud, rushing noise, air was sucked from the bay. A hissing sound was followed by an audible crack. Two doors split horizontally, grudgingly opening into the cold of space.

Darla studied the gyrating Divulsion while Ilanit attempted to calculate an orbital pattern that would put them into docking position. Divulsion had the new 'catch and release shuttle bays'. No longer did the pilot have to manually navigate through the opened doors and into the bay. A combined suction/claw device on the end of an extendable ram would capture the incoming ship and pull it to safety. Still, as out of control as Divulsion was, it would be tricky at best to successfully accomplish that maneuver.

Ilanit called in her headset, "I've got a docking solution. Now to get in position..."

Instantly there appeared on Darla's holoscreen - a three dimensional viewer that projected visual images and coordinates - pictures of the area and an overlay of the orbital path that was to be taken. She called back, "I've got a visual. Copy..."

Darla heard Ilanit's voice in her headset. "Copied...visual."

The trip from Shikkeron had been relatively easy. The next series of maneuvers were very dangerous and least likely to succeed. Darla looked up to see small chunks of space debris continually bouncing off Divulsion's force shield, flashing blue-white lightning as they were deflected away. At the moment, the T-4's computers were sensing such obstacles and sliding clear of those dangers but, when they locked onto the given coordinates, that would all change.

Darla hailed Divulsion. "We have a go."

"Go confirmed," a ghostly voice replied. "Shuttle bay doors are opening."

The women watched. Suddenly a small slit of light appeared at Divulsion's mid-hull region, about nine rods back, center ship. The slit grew until it appeared to look like a tiny beacon, hopefully calling out to the night. From over a league away, it didn't look very reassuring. Darla glanced at her gages. They still had twenty minutes of fuel and all systems were functioning properly. She prepared to lock on course as soon as the next window came.

The mood was tense aboard Shikkeron. Captain Bedan had placed communication with Divulsion and the T-4 on the 'overhead' – the term, a carry-over from bygone days when visible audio speakers were installed in ships' ceilings. A quiet thumping whirr of Shikkeron's motors and engines were the only other audible sounds to be heard.

The mood was somber. Everyone on board felt as though his or her own soul sat the cockpit of that frail plane poised on a knife-edge of destruction. With ears a tingle and halted breath, each crewmember counted the passing heartbeats, waiting upon the drama unfolding in that black world of wild rocks and angry chaos.

Darla locked in the T-4's docking orbit at the next window, activating the auto-pilot on the computer's navigation system. "We're in the slot," she radioed Divulsion. They confirmed. Now all she had to do was control the thrust and make minor course corrections with her manual override to compensate for outside disturbances. The countdown to destiny had now begun.

Ilanit busied herself with checking and rechecking coordinates, feeding the computers necessary information that would help them stay on course. Darla read the gages and controls while glancing back and forth from the holoscreen to the view outside the ship's canopy. Rocks and debris flashed past, sometimes only rods away. Darla sighed, resigned to their possible destruction.

Progress was exasperatingly slow. Round and round the T-4 orbited, drawing ever so slowly closer to the golden beacon anxiously calling out through the darkness. Darla glanced at the fuel gage. 'Eight minutes left. That will be enough. It should now take no more than two or three minutes before docking.'

About six furlongs out, disaster struck. The T-4 was rotating to line up for final approach when a cluster of fist-sized asteroids pummeled the ship, tearing away a large portion of the port wing and disabling the nose navigation sensors. Fortunately, none had made a direct hit on the fuselage. With a cry of desperation, Darla gripped the joystick and, while manually working the side thrusters, struggled to keep the fighter on approach.

She had just managed to push the fighter back on course when another barrage of rocks crashed into it, ripping away chunks of the canopy and sending an explosion of metal and glass in every direction. Part of the canopy's reinforcing bracket was torn loose, smashing into the front of Darla's helmet, stunning her into unconsciousness.

Only seconds passed before Darla came to, but she had no way to tell how long she was out. Her earlier wound was reopened and bleeding profusely, blinding her completely. She heard panicked voices on the intercom, asking them to report their condition. Trying to reply, she reached for her communication control, only to find that it had been ripped away. There was now no way for her to relay information outside the ship. Worse yet, she could hear air escaping from her suit.

Darla attempted to make contact with Ilanit, calling her name into the helmet's inboard audio communicator. Nothing... Whether the leftenant was dead or injured, she had no way of telling, but she could feel the fighter slipping off the approach lineup while thrusters continued to move it forward. There was little to be done to salvage the mission. Unless she could regain control of the fighter, in seconds they would crash into Divulsion's hull. She tipped her head back and cried out to her mother. No music... No reassuring feeling... Her head sank as she fell into helpless despair.

When a person's life is uncertain, time can act in strange and peculiar ways. Observers aboard Divulsion claim to have noticed a smooth entry of the T-4 into the docking station, but Adaya remembers it in a much different way.

Out of the realms of total defeat, victory can at times be grasped. As Darla pondered her own doom, she also considered the demise of Divulsion. No matter how slim their chance for survival, it would be less if her fighter slammed into it. In her mind, the girl could see a raging inferno of burning thallium oxysulfide melting away the ship's hull. She grappled to find the controls in order to throw the ship into reverse. Just as her fingers wrapped around the joystick, she recalled Ardon's statement. 'You have all the tools needed to accomplish this task. You must find a way to use them.'

Darla hesitated at firing reverse thrusters. She sank back into the seat, trying to relax. Instantly, the woman felt a pulsing on her right hand. A warm glow raced up her arm from the onyx ring nestled on her index finger. Not only did she feel a soothing sensation, suddenly she could see a skeletal picture of her surroundings. In her mind, she watched a world of shapes and lines - negative pictures so to speak - where bright things were dark and the dark were bright.

With deliberateness, Darla studied the mental images. Very carefully, she began to toggle the joystick while adjusting the retro-rockets. To her surprise, she saw the pictures change in accordance with the movements of the fighter. As she struggled to come back on approach, the woman could sense the life-giving oxygen in her suit rapidly depleting. "Just a few more seconds..." she whispered to herself, feeling hypoxia consume her thoughts. She set her sights on the shuttle bay's fully extended receiver. As she drifted into darkness, Darla heard her own voice crying out to her, "Come on, sweetheart. One more second... one more sec..."

Darla never heard the cheers, nor did she see the tears of relief. And when they pulled their savior from the crumpled cockpit, thinking her dead, she did not hear their wails of grief and lament. Her world passed on in silence while Divulsion's crew hurried to infuse new lifeblood into their crippled vessel. She slept in peace as she was transferred back to Shikkeron after the two ships exited the asteroid field. She rested from care as Shikkeron's officers and crew visited her in the medical bay to offer their heartfelt thanks.

A warrior later turned poet anxiously waited on the bridge of Shikkeron that day. He penned the following words, which, when translated, read:

We watched the world from Salem's walls

While war was waged by a single soul.

We watched in helpless wonderment

As evening's child risked all on hope.

The battle tore upon front and flank,

But the warrior's heart did not shrink back.

Broken and blind, she forced the charge

And took the gate with fate resigned.

Lift up your voice and raise your glass,

Sing songs of praise to a child divine.

The souls of many she has saved,

Surrendering all for the ones she loves.

"Well hello, Colonel." Darla opened her eyes to see Ardon standing beside her bed in Shikkeron's sickbay, gently holding her hand. "You do have a way about you, cutting things so close to the line and all."

In a weak voice, Darla asked, "Ilanit? What of Ilanit? Is she..."

"I'm right here, Dear." Ilanit stepped up. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."

Darla sighed with relief, "I can die now..." She drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It took Darla two days to recuperate sufficiently to take up her duties again. During that time, the captain of Divulsion visited her, delivering many letters of appreciation from the officers and crew of his ship. She was overwhelmed by the display of gratitude that was showered on her and difficult for her to think such attention was honest and sincere or deserved. Her heart was torn over how she felt inside and what she experienced.

* * *

There was quiet satisfaction in Darla's mind when things got back to normal. Excitement of the recent past had forced a delay in Jebbson's schedule. They were already almost a day late in reaching Exothepobole and it would take two more to get there. It had been decided Divulsion should join forces with Shikkeron, at least as far as Exothepobole. With its whereabouts revealed, there was no need to skulk around in pretend secrecy. Still, Divulsion's captain did not tell Bedan about his original mission or the other escorts shadowing them.

It was now evening, Palace Time. Darla and several other officers were relaxing in the ship's tiny lounge, bantering on about issues of little importance. Three people were playing ZeugosPantote, meaning 'ever up in pairs'. It was a game played with four colored sets of cards, numbered one through nine, and four, ten-sided die of matching colors. The objective was to build the highest combination of multiple numbers by adding the totals from the roll of the dice and the drawing of two cards from the deck, along with matching them with any of the cards held in the hand. It was quite popular at the time.

Ilanit quietly entered the lounge, shortly followed by Lieutenant Crilen. The chairs were all filled, so Crilen moved some papers from a tiny end table and offered part of it to Ilanit for a seat. It had been a long day for each of them, their duties keeping them busy since breakfast. In silence, they watched their fellow officers finishing a final hand of the card game.

Moments later, Jebbson and Ardon entered. Ardon looked around at the crowd and began to leave, but Darla called out to him. She motioned for him to come and share the small corner of another end table she had claimed possession of. Sheepishly, he excused his way through the crowd and squeezed down next to her. Darla put her arm through his and thanked him for accepting the invitation.

Upon seeing Jebbson, Ilanit quietly got up and made her way over to him. She whispered something in his ear. Jebbson smiled and nodded obligingly. Ilanit took his hand, again whispered something in his ear, and quickly returned to her spot next to Crilen.

Captain Bedan poked his head through the door in time to see this little exchange. He stepped up close to Jebbson and, in a hush, asked, "Major, has your girl abandoned you this evening?"

Jebbson took a look at Ilanit who was now nuzzling Crilen and then grinned at Bedan, relating, "Captain, when I was a lad, getting my schooling in one of them big eastern cities where I come from, I met a girl name of 'Sue'...'Sue Clarkson'. I tell ya, there wasn't a prettier girl I ever saw. Ever..." He pointed toward the lieutenant. "Yep! She looked a lot like that girl over there. Well, you know, I just about fell end over end for her, but I was just too bashful to ask her out...you know, to a dance or somethin'."

Jebbson paused and sighed. "My university friends saw the shape I was in... all messed up in love and all. So, they talked to Sue about spendin' the evening with me at the dance social comin' up that Saturday night. They gave her a whole dollar to be nice to me. I tell you, that girl took me to places far higher than here! She danced every one of them dances with me, and only me. Even when those big, handsome fellas came callin', she'd just say 'no, thank you'. Why, she even let me walk her home that night after the dancin' was all finished. And I got to kiss her on the hand."

Jebbson slowly shook his head. "Yes, sir, she was about the sweetest thing I ever saw. I said good night, walked away, and never talked to her again. Didn't want to..."

Bedan was surprised. "Why not?"

Jebbson looked Bedan in the face, lowering his voice. "It was forced, Captain. She tried awful hard to earn that dollar. It was a lot of money in those days, but I could tell she wasn't real about her feelin's. Don't know how. Just knew."

As he turned to leave, Jebbson placed his hand on the captain's shoulder and looked over his own at Darla. "Now that girl is real... the most real girl I ever met." He paused a moment, offering Bedan a huge, toothy smile. "Well, maybe the second most real. Good night." He exited the door and walked away, whistling some merry little ditty.

The captain remained near the door, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall. Shortly after the game finished, the gathered officers began a sing-a-long. They were only into their second stanza of the first song when the overhead lit up, requesting the captain come to the bridge. Darla watched the curious expression on his face as he paused before leaving. Soon, her heart was drawn back to the circle of merry singers. The group had just finished the second tune and were preparing for the next when the captain's voice sounded on the overhead. "All senior officers report to the bridge! All senior officers report to the bridge!"

Five minutes later, Colonel Darla and her Marine captain along with Major Ardon and Major Jebbson were collected together with Captain Bedan, his first officer, and navigation officer. The communications officer watched from his bridge, below and ahead the captain's bridge.

Captain Bedan called down again to the communications officer, "Are you sure there's nothing more?"

The officer confirmed, replying, "No, sir, the entire communiqué lasted only half a minute or so and was cut off."

"Will you play us the message again?" Bedan asked.

With an affirmative, the officer motioned to one of the crew. She pressed a button on her console, replaying the message. " _Help us! Help us! This is Skyport Tower... Skyport Tower... We are under attack. Do you copy? We are under attack..."_

With the audio sender still on, another voice could be heard shouting _, "They've hit the garrison! They hit the...! The armory just blew up!"_

Then there was the sound of smashing glass and another voice cried out, _"Stasis! Oh my G..."_ The message abruptly ended.

Bedan turned back to the gathered officers. "We have concluded that the signal came from Sustrepho. It appears the plea for help was being sent to the garrison and, by a fluke, the broadcast reached us."

Someone asked, "How do we know that it was a local transmission?"

Bedan explained, "They were sending on a low band range that's intended for intraplanet use. One of our operators was running a general sweep scan of the region when this signal passed by. It was very weak and has been amplified and filtered many times to reach this clarity."

Have you been able to narrow down the location on Sustrepho?" another officer asked. Bedan shook his head.

Darla spoke up. "Captain, there are three garrisons on Sustrepho, but only one armory. If the person was correctly describing what he saw, it would have to be Exothepobole."

"Impossible!" the first officer disputed. "The Stasis wouldn't dare take on a city of that size! It has a population of over six thousand inhabitants, not including the hundreds of travelers on stay-over. Besides that, the cutter, Midnight, and half a dozen air wing fighters are stationed at the skyport. And then there's the garrison. It must muster over a hundred soldiers."

"A hundred twenty-eight, to be exact, along with auxiliaries," Darla added. Her voice became subdued. "Captain Ricteer's Marine Company replaced the army's regulars there just a month ago."

Bedan called to his steerage officer, "Make for Exothepobole! Engines full!" He then gave orders to the communications officer. "Send by short band to Divulsion that we are making smoke for Sustrepho. I'll deliver a message by drone with the details. After that, transmit this coded encryption to fleet command, 'Where the birds gather, the nest has been broken.' Then go silent."

The officer acknowledged and hurried away. Bedan then ordered his first officer, "Sound general quarters! We will not be caught napping if this is a trap!"

He turned to Darla. "Colonel Adaya, can I expect your assistance at this time?"

Darla's smile was grave as she responded, "Captain, my Marines are at your disposal."

In short order, two ships of war were making smoke toward a little known speck in a very large ocean of space. It was leading them to a final destiny that would send its ripples across an empire and change forever the worlds of men.

* * *

Glass shards crunched under the colonel's feet as she cautiously entered the narrow street. The eerie silence troubled Darla as she glanced through broken windows and opened doorways. The lonely moaning of the snow-filled breeze was the only sound she and her two platoons of accompanying Marines heard while picking their way toward Exothepobole's center. She motioned off toward her right for Leftenant Ilanit to take her platoon up a side street that would eventually deliver them to that same destination.

Shortly after Shikkeron and Divulsion made way for Sustrepho, the captain of Divulsion sent a coded message to the ships shadowing Shikkeron. Upon arrival over Exothepobole, two cutters and three gun-busses had joined the others.

(Author's note: _A 'gun-buss', or 'buss' was a small, bulbous transport or lighter that had been converted for war. Most saw duty as out-riders, scouts, swift packets or, as they are most romantically remembered, for clandestine activities_.)

News of the attack on Exothepobole had been received by other ships lurking in the Trizentine. By the time Darla was prepared to send troops to the ground, four of Sarah's WolfPack ketches were prowling the area, along with a small contingent of Tarezabarian vessels. With this added support, the captain of Divulsion ordered two cutters down on deck to support Darla's Marine landing force while Shikkeron and Divulsion hovered above.

Darla led the 1st and 2nd platoons into the city from the south while her captain, KristinaDulamay, took the 3rd and 4th in along the west road. The Marine captain from Divulsion brought her three platoons in along the main northeast route entering the city. All reports received by Darla were the same, littered debris everywhere and no signs of life.

Ardon was on the west road with the 4th platoon. They were the first to reach the city's garrison, a complex of buildings that housed Captain Ricteer's Marine Company. The compound had been heavily bombed with incendiaries. Ardon slowly made his way through the burned-out buildings. This was his first real exposure to the ravages of war, and the things he witnessed there made the MoonDust incident pale into nothingness.

The attack had come early in the morning without any warning. Most of the company was sleeping when the first incendiary bombs crashed into the compound. Dozens died in their beds, burned bones and charred flesh still lying on twisted mattress springs. More bodies were discovered in what was once the dining hall. Several rockets had ripped the center hall apart, killing the kitchen crew and some early risers. The story was much the same throughout the confines, but the worst was yet to come.

The mustering yard was near the back of the compound. It was an enclosed grassy area about ninety cubits square, with walls to its east and north, living quarters to the south, and a service building to the west. Several bodies were sprawled near the exits, having been shot down fleeing the burning buildings. But in the far west corner corpses were lying around in a semicircle. The besieged company had put up resistance there before being overwhelmed.

Ardon could hardly believe his eyes. Most of the defenders were naked, or nearly so, having rushed from their beds. Those who were injured during the assault appeared to have been tortured and mutilated afterward and then left to freeze to death. A few yards to the east of this ring another group of about twelve prisoners had been gathered, apparently after surrendering. Their bloodied, torn corpses were so disfigured it was difficult to tell the men from the women. Indeed it was nearly impossible to really tell just how many dead lay there.

A dizzying queasiness filled Ardon's stomach. He looked away from the carnage only to see a woman hanging from a tree, strangled by her own intestines. Her skin had been pulled down from her neck to her waist, apparently while she still lived. He let out a cry of disbelief and anguish and, falling to his knees, wept profusely.

In the meantime, Darla and the first platoon had reached the city's center, reuniting with the second platoon. There was little carnage or destruction to be seen here. Other than broken windows and looted shops, it didn't look much different than a sleepy winter morning in Exothepobole.

This city was ancient, having been one of the first built after the founding of the Trizentine colonies. For hundreds of thousands of years, a brisk commerce had been carried on here, bringing a great deal of wealth to the colony as reflected in this city.

Among the grandest of structures was the Center Theater. It could seat many hundreds for plays and concerts. Besides this there were several anterooms, some large enough to be used for sizable banquets. Just to the east of theater was the Colonial Council Building, the legal hub for all business and government in the Trizentine. Other outstanding structures were the public baths and gymnasium, district library, trade and exchange market and public stadium.

The platoons again split up, Captain KristinaDulamay taking the 1st Platoon west. The 2nd went east with Darla. "Spread out!" she called, directing Leftenant Ilanit to take half of the platoon up the other side of the street. Then looking at Jebbson, she ordered, "You come with me."

Jebbson had argued with Darla over his right to accompany her on this foray. She resisted, fearing for his welfare. "I have not paid the Boatman to cross the River Styx to be sequestered in safety while my brothers and sisters risk their lives to hold the line against evil deeds. I am no child, Colonel! Think me not a dandy. Few have seen more grievous destruction or been in greater danger than I."

Darla relented, apologizing, "I'm sorry. I sometimes forget that length of life is not necessarily a measure of knowledge and ability."

Darla was about five paces ahead of Jebbson when she suddenly fell back, dropping to her knees, her long-gun crashing to the ground as her hands flew to her face. Jebbson rushed to her aid only to be hit by a putrid wall of sickening stench. Soon, both he and Darla were keeled over in uncontrolled vomiting.

Having seen their officers down, the others pulled on their filter masks and hurried over to help. As she choked and gagged, Darla motioned toward the opened double doors of the theater. While three soldiers approached the entrance, four others assisted Jebbson and Darla. A few minutes of fresh air eased their convulsions and, after sipping some water, they donned their filter masks and proceeded toward the theater.

A sergeant, her face drawn and pale, just exiting the doors stopped them. "There's no need, Colonel...nothing for 'em now. All dead. No need seeing the show." Darla thanked her, but decided to enter. She offered for Jebbson to remain outside. He declined.

Accompanied by her squad, the two slowly made their way into the darkness, the light from the doorway and entrance windows providing the only illumination from this end of the auditorium. 'Macabre' is too mild a word to describe the horrors inside that building. There were hundreds of bodies, possibly thousands - some piled in heaps ten and twelve deep. The very mass had started a premature rotting process, exacerbated by extreme temperatures belching from an out-of-control heating system. Bodies slowly heaved up and down from the decay, filling the eerie twilight with moaning sighs.

Even with filter masks, the soldiers could still sense the stench of decay and rot. As one eyewitness described it, 'No mask or garment could filter out the filth of that place. It burned your eyes and nose like acid. You tasted it in your mouth. It even soaked into the pores of your skin. For weeks you felt it, tasted it, smelled it!'

The antechambers of the theater were even worse places of horror. Piles of mutilated and tortured bodies were everywhere. Walking was difficult because of putrid lakes of blood on the floors, forcing one to slosh through up to an inch of the crimson goo. Corpses were sprawled across tables and hung from crystal light fixtures. What the Marines viewed at the garrison compound was multiplied hundreds of times over in this slaughterhouse.

A sallow-faced Colonel Darla exited into the winter snowstorm. She pulled off her mask and took in a breath of the cold, sweet air. In her entire life, she had only once witnessed greater savagery. And yet the sickening tortures of Memphis could not compare to what had been practiced upon the innocents here.

Jebbson stepped out from this caldron of death, Darla's forlorn stare catching his grizzled gaze. Hr growled in bitter disgust, "Should I have known that heaven was so beautiful, I might have lived a more vile life, in hopes of attaining some lesser reward." Darla could do nothing but nod, fearing if she opened her mouth, the vomiting would begin again.

Reports from other platoons were all the same. The entire center of the city, from the baths to the open stadium, was one giant killing field. The colonel looked up the street to the Colonial Council Building. It had not been visited yet. She stiffened, working up resolve to enter.

Jebbson sensed her dilemma, squeezing her arm. "Colonel Adaya, I'll take it for you if you want." He shrugged, "Ain't much different than Cold Harbor..."

Darla rested her hand on Jebbson's and gazed into his eyes. In some way this strange off-worlder had the power to make things all right. He could infuse strength into a weary soul, give them power to go on when there was none left to be found within.

In a shaky voice, Darla thanked him. "You are a wonderful man. Forgive me for resisting your company earlier." She looked back at the building, resigning herself to discovering its mysteries. "Let us go together."

Jebbson smiled, agreeing. Darla looked around the street. Most of her soldiers were veterans, but this had been too much for many. She picked a half dozen who appeared able and called for them to come along. They headed for the building, steeling themselves for what secrets waited within. There are no words found in this or any language to describe what Darla and her soldiers discovered in that Council Building. Upon this place, Salak had personally visited his vengeance.

Technician IoalendaKosbi was working in the library's clock tower when the Stasis attacked. No one bothered to search the tiny room behind the clock where she hid. Seeing the street through a broken air conditioning vent in the outer wall for most of the day, Ioalenda watched events unfold. She finally slipped out of the tower early the next morning, eventually making her way to the nearby forest. This is her account as she related it to Captain PestelinGormei of Divulsion.

"All resistance was crushed by eight in the morning, the first bomb exploding at the skyport about five. By nine, the streets were filled with people chased from their beds, all stripped naked, with no protection from the cold. Many looked like they had already been savagely beaten, the women faring worse than the men. Soon the entire main street was filled, the crushing throng spanning the width and length of the entire street. In short order, hundreds of Stasis and uniformed Pseudes marched into the center of town, many disappearing into various buildings.

"Soon the naked captives were being dragged and bullied into the same buildings. From morning until late in the day, this went on. Gradually, the crowds thinned as more and more disappeared from sight. At times, a Stasis or Pseudes would come out and exchange places with a guard standing watch over the people in the street. It was well below freezing and no one was allowed any clothing. If any sat or fell, a guard would attack them with beatings until they either got up or died. Many women were brutally raped to death outside, in the bitter snow.

"Screams and cries for mercy filled the air until it sounded like the entire city itself was wailing one combined plea for release from its agony into the winter sky. Hour after endless hour this went on, until the entire street was empty. Then, just at dusk, a large ship settled down in the center of the city. Several naked people were hurried down an exit ramp by men in bright red uniforms. All looked bruised and beaten, and many were limping, while a few were being assisted by others. They were herded off to the Colonial Council Building. In a few minutes, an officer wearing a grotesque helmet, accompanied by several dozen sharply dressed soldiers departed the ship and entered the building.

"After the mournful cries died away, hundreds of Stasis and Pseudes went rampaging through the streets. For a major part of the night they sacked the city, taking whatever caught their fancy and destroying the rest. This went on until well after the midnight hour. Sometime after two in the morning, things began to quiet down.

"Then, around three in the morning, the man wearing the grotesque helmet left the Council Building with his soldiers, bantering on about foolish things. Two of his attendants followed behind carrying bags of something. It was too dark to see. The ship lifted up from the street and swept off to the east, soon to be followed by the roar of dozens of other vessels heading in the same direction."

The people Salak had herded into the Council Building were all the local and regional magistrates he could find. He was most pleased that Sustrepho's governor, Tashi, was among those captured. When Darla and the others discovered the results of Salak's handiwork, few were able to contain themselves from open weeping and the crying of oaths to bring this man to justice. It was obvious that none had received any mercy and that life had been gradually and painfully drained from them.

Jebbson and Darla searched the building together, Jebbson being concerned for Darla's welfare. They finally found Tashi in an inner council chamber. Out of respect for this great personal counselor to Lowenah, nothing will be said other than her death had come slowly, the woman drawing her last breath sometime late the following day.

As Darla leaned over Tashi's body, she saw a folded paper wound up in a bloodied strand of her hair. With shaking hands, she reached out and gently undid the paper, opening it. Inside was written:

' _Ardon, sorry I missed you._

Your brother,

AsreHalom.'

The colonel began to weep, putting a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes. Jebbson came close and crouched beside her. Her head fell on his chest and she began sobbing like a little child lost and alone. Jebbson folded his arms around her, gently rocking back and forth while humming a soothing lullaby.

After some time passed, she looked into Jebbson's face, tears still flowing down her cheeks as she whimpered, "It's all my fault. It was me they wanted. Me! How will I tell Ardon? How can I tell him?! Oh, if only my life could be exchanged for hers." Darla cried out in anguish, "Why must I live today?!"

Jebbson held Darla close. The stress of the day was getting to her...too much wanton murder and so much butchery in so little time. Her eyes were dilating and breathing was sporadic. Jebbson understood that under these circumstances the woman needed something to occupy her mind and quickly.

First, though, he reinforced her innocence. "It's not your fault! Colonel, I don't see your name on that note! It was addressed to Ardon. How do you know that Salak wasn't gunning for him? Tell me, can you be sure?"

Jebbson's demanding voice helped cut through the gray cloud growing in Darla's mind. "Can I be sure? Can I be sure?" she whispered in halting sobs.

Jebbson brushed a hand across Darla's face, sweeping a tear from her cheek. His voice was consoling, but blunt. "We all have enemies, Ardon included. Death happens. And those who die are at rest. I was at rest. Your job is not to mourn the dead but to protect the living. Isn't that true, Colonel?!"

"Protect the living?" Darla became silent as she pondered matters. "Protect the living? Yes, protect the living."

She slowly scanned the room. A sergeant and another soldier were standing near the door, steely-faced, filled with concern. "Help me up, please," she begged of Jebbson.

Jebbson continued his hold on Darla as they turned to leave the room. Passing the sergeant, Darla asked her to have Tashi's body removed to Shikkeron. "Treat her gently, please." she requested, adding, "She is a great counselor of the king."

Speaking up quickly, Jebbson directed, "Leave the others to their rest. And sergeant, no one should be in here alone! Now come with us and get some fresh air. Then bring several others along with you to assist with your work. Is that understood?"

The sergeant acknowledged Jebbson's command, taking Darla's other arm and helping her out of the building.

Fifteen minutes in the biting winter snowstorm soothed Darla's mind. The wind-driven snow pummeled her face and numbed her hands, helping her forget the gruesome sights on the other side of the surrounding walls. A sudden blizzard was carpeting the city with a blanket of white, hiding the wickedness perpetrated there. It was out of this blinding storm that Marines from Divulsion put in their appearance. Accompanying them was Captain Ricteer and a dozen Marines from the city's garrison. Darla let out a cry of excitement and, spreading her arms wide, enveloped her junior officer in a tearful embrace. Eventually, the captain went on to tell the colonel of events.

"Around two in the morning, three days before, I received a call from a small mining camp north of Exothepobole, complaining about suspicious lights in the mountain forest east of camp. Most of the company had just completed a grueling patrol, searching the western region of the district after hearing reports of Stasis being in that area. I decided not to disturb my other officers who were all exhausted. Gathering up a few Marines who hadn't been on that patrol, we took two motor coaches and headed north to the mining camp.

"For three hours we searched the forest, finding little evidence for the cause of the suspicious lights. Finally, around seven that morning we began our return trip to the city. After leaving the mountain forest, the troop traveled south for about an hour through shaded valleys and narrow canyons before reaching the high road some ten miles north of Exothepobole. Breaking over the crest, we spied a few dark shapes circling the city. I thought it was the anticipated Shikkeron and its convoy finally arrived. Weather conditions hid the smoke of the fires from us, so we continued straight for the city.

"About two miles from Exothepobole, two small specks swooped from the sky. Too late, we found out the specks were fighters. They strafed the coaches with cannon fire, hitting the following one and sending it into a ditch. Two Marines were killed in the attack and three injured. I ordered the coaches abandoned and, assisting the wounded, headed out through heavy brush in an attempt to get to the nearby forest.

"Twice more the fighters strafed the coaches. By the time they realized the machines had been deserted, we were nearly to the woods. There was a lame attempt made by the fighters to search for us, but they soon tired of the chase and headed away, disappearing from sight. Now fearing the worst, we decided to pull back further into the forest, eventually stopping in a thick evergreen grove nearly a mile from where we last saw the fighters.

"My troopers had kept their wits about them and remembered to carry off weapons and supplies when we fled. Around eleven that morning, I sent out scouts in hopes of discovering what had happened in the city. They soon hurried back with news of finding other people hiding in the forest, many naked and suffering from frostbite. Throughout that day and well into the next, we searched the forest in hopes of finding more survivors. We brought them into our makeshift camp and provided what little we could for them.

"Some who arrived were so badly beaten, they were unable to endure the extreme conditions of the winter forest. Still, with the heroic efforts of my soldiers who even sacrificed their own clothing for others, most escapees survived. Boughs of evergreen were cut and laid out in thick beds. Then the naked were huddled together, and several more layers of boughs were stacked around them. Although many suffered from severe frostbite, there was little else that could be done for them. No one dared to light a fire for fear of it being seen by the enemy in the city.

"Among those escaping to the forest were ten Marines from my garrison. Three were severely burned and later died. The others, including the injured, survived despite suffering extreme frostbite. They told stories of heroism and despair, and how they managed to escape."

Captain Ricteer went on to relate those harrowing events.

"While others held the enemy at bay, some Marines slipped in a side door of the service building and crawled into a parked motor transport. One of the soldiers started the machine. Leftenant KatoriStanson assisted some wounded onto the transport, then ordering the driver to leave, dove back out into the firestorm. The driver gunned the machine, crashing through the back wall of the compound's service building just before a bomb blast engulfed the building in flames.

"They made their escape down the narrow streets, smashing their way through two city roadblocks and engaging in several running firefights. Fleeing the city, the troop came upon several enemy ships parked along the west road. The driver charged ahead and plowed through a company of Pseudes soldiers. Others in the transport put down heavy fire into the panicked crowd. The confusion bought precious time, allowing them to get past the ships and away.

"The Marines abandoned the transport at the edge of the western wood when fighters were spotted. They eventually made their way north with other refugees until being found by my scouts.

"Shortly after your Marine Company landed this morning, a cutter reconnoitering the area made contact with my pickets, and is presently transporting the survivors to a makeshift camp set up just outside the city."

Captain Ricteer concluded, "I believe there must be close to three hundred made it, Colonel. All together, twenty-three of my people escaped the attack. None of the other officers besides myself did."

A Marine called over to Darla. Members of the 3rd and 4th Platoons were just making their appearance out of the swirling snow. Darla looked at Jebbson in desperation. He studied her growing panic. Ardon would soon be here. What was Darla to do? Never had she felt so helpless. Never had she anguished so over another's loss. Never had she experienced pain through another person's heart like she did now.

"Give me the note!" Jebbson demanded.

Darla stared dumbly at Jebbson.

"Give me the note!" Jebbson demanded again. There was precious little time to lose. "Look! There are times when rank and command must be overlooked. This is not yours to do. This is a moment when men must stand alone as brothers. It was for times like this that God made men the way they are."

Darla frowned and nodded. Saying nothing, she handed Jebbson the scrawled message.

"Good!" he said, much relieved and, taking her hand, added, "You must stay with me. Ardon will have need of your womanly touch soon. Be silent for now. Your soothing words will be more powerful if they are not attached to this hell."

Darla closed her eyes and, sucking her lower lip in between her teeth, nodded again. Jebbson tenderly caressed the woman's hand. With teary eyes, she gazed into Jebbson's face, whispering, "Thank you..."

She and Jebbson both turned to face the approaching soldiers.

Eventually, Ardon materialized like a ghost from the storm. He was leaned over a litter carried by four men, singing a strange, harmonic song to someone hidden under a stack of blankets and coats. Jebbson and Darla silently waited for the party to draw close, seeing little more than the long, red, curly locks of the person being carried. Jebbson stepped forward for a closer look.

Bending down next to Ardon, Jebbson peered into the sickly blue face of a woman, her half-opened eyes glazed over. Through dark, purple lips she mumbled incoherently, slipping in and out of a dream world. Speaking to himself, Jebbson asked, "What do we have here?"

Ardon gently held the woman's hand while tenderly stroking her face with the fingers of his other hand. He paused his singing and looked over at Jebbson. "This is Sergeant OidaMetra. Her left leg was nearly severed in the firefight at the compound. We found her under a pile of rubbish where she managed to crawl to keep from being discovered." He leaned close and whispered, "The things this child witnessed go beyond my imaginings. How she survived until now with that horrendous wound and exposed, naked, to the elements, I cannot understand."

Jebbson asked, "Will the sergeant make it?"

Ardon replied, "I believe so, but with constant care for the time being."

Jebbson placed a firm grip on Ardon's shoulder and nodded in satisfaction. "The shuttles have been called. They will be here momentarily." He then looked him in the eye. "My friend, may I have a word with you?"

Ardon slowly stood erect. Darla had slipped in next to Jebbson while the two men were conversing. Ardon glanced back and forth between Jebbson's hardened, stoic appearance with his piercing gaze, and Darla's drawn and pale, tearstained face with her puffy, reddened eyes. A cloud of gloom and uncertainty began to engulf him. He turned back to the litter bearers and asked them to care for the Oida's needs.

Jebbson reached his arm across Ardon's shoulder, pulling him close. "Come, my friend. Let's walk awhile." They slowly strode up the street.

In time, Jebbson revealed news of Tashi's death. Ardon let out a wail of grief and sorrow and started to bolt for the Council Building. Jebbson held him in an iron grip. "No, my friend, not today! Let our sister rest in peace. Remember her as she would wish for you to."

Ardon began to resist, crying out, "I must go! I must!" struggling to get free of Jebbson's grasp.

"Not today, my friend!" Jebbson repeated, increasing his hold. "The hour calls you to other duties that you must not neglect. Tomorrow the spring shall come. Give it rest."

Ardon finally stopped resisting and fell on Jebbson's shoulder, unleashing a torrent of tears in grief. He sobbed on and on, repeating Tashi's name over and over again. Taking Jebbson's advice to keep silent but remain near, Darla started to back away, fearful of losing control of her own emotions. Jebbson motioned Darla to stay. Sensing something going on, Ardon looked up at her, catching her eye. The total devastation on Ardon's face was too much for Darla. She, too, began to wail in grief.

Ardon let go of Jebbson and reached for the woman. The two embraced each other as though life itself depended on this moment. At seeing their uncontrolled release of unabashed anguish, the other soldiers present could no longer contain their own emotions. The sky was rent with wails and laments for loss of friends and lovers, for loss of dreams and hopes, and for loss of innocence.

_On that day the name of the city was changed from Exothepobole to_ _ChorionLupe_ _, meaning 'The Land of Grief'. The bodies of those murdered were not buried, but were interred within hidden rooms behind outer walls, secreted away from searching eyes. Then the entire city was burned with fire so that only the ancient stone walls remained standing. To this day, smoke still rises from the ruins and a pall of ash hangs over the surrounding hills. No flower or green plant nor any beast or bird can tolerate this forlorn land._

It is said that you can still hear the echoes from that day should you stand in the ruins of the city when the winter winds drift down from the north. Rumor has it that Lowenah grieved so over the wanton murder of her children that she left their Cherubs remain as a remembrance for what the innocent suffered. It is they who sing the haunting songs of sorrow and pain, never allowing us to forget the wickedness done there.

Should you journey to that land, respect the houses of the slain. Do not leave the solace of the streets to explore the dark openings beyond, for the Cherubs do not take kindly to intruders who disturb the bones resting in holy places.

Their grief gradually waned, leaving the people emotionally drained. Jebbson drew Ardon's attention back to the needs at hand, kindly reminding Ardon of other responsibilities. "The dead rest in peace. It is our duty to assist the living." Ardon appeared confused. "Were you not singing a healing song to Oida?" Jebbson asked, pointing toward the woman lying on the stretcher.

It took a moment for Jebbson's question to register. Ardon finally nodded, speaking like a person waking from a dream, "Yes...yes, it was a healing song."

Jebbson was gentle but firm. "Lowenah has given her son a charge. You must give that child back life and free her from her bad dreams, for is it not said by your own people 'a healer is bound to the sick one until a cure is effected or the soul does die, for a healer is able to secure the mind so the soul may keep living'?" Ardon glanced over at Darla with concern. Jebbson shook his head, cautioning, "Not this day, my friend." He pointed toward Oida. "That child needs your attention or she will die. I will stand the battle line with this girl tonight. It will not be the first time I have waged war against her demons."

The man relented and leaned on Jebbson, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You speak with an understanding that is older than time itself, my dear Major Garlock. There is a strangeness about your kind that I have often seen. Your years are that of a young sapling, but your wisdom is as ancient as stone. May we all one day attain to that level of glory."

Ardon and the injured sergeant departed aboard the shuttle that soon arrived. Sometime later the recovery team brought Tashi's body out from the Council Building, having carefully wrapped it in some of the tapestry found there. Jebbson ordered them, "Take Lowenah's counselor to the surgeons aboard Divulsion and have them work their wonders on her. When they have been successful, place the lady in a sealed coffin with a crystal cover and return her to our ship. This way Ardon will be able to mourn her loss, remembering her the way she was."

Captain Ricteer approached Darla who was standing next to Jebbson, saluting. "Colonel, we wish our dead be returned home with us."

Darla stood straight, returning the salute. "Captain, take whomever you need to assist you and be about your task quickly. We shall not leave our fellows abandoned to the vulture or the crow." She then radioed the ships, deploying her Marines to prepare the city for burning. Another shuttle landed and she and Jebbson made ready to leave.

After placing the Marine captain from Divulsion in charge, Darla turned to Jebbson. "Will you really risk your soul for me this night? The demon has warred against me all this day, gaining in strength as it reveled in this field of butchery."

Jebbson smiled, "There is no demon I fear! The anger and rage of our coming day I will show the beast and it will cower at what it sees!" He looked around at the quiet desolation and clenched his fists. "The hour is drawing near when the mounds of the dead created by our revenge shall be piled higher than these towers! What wrath was delivered to this place will be repaid a thousand fold upon the heads of our enemy!"

Some soldiers had gathered up pieces of debris and started a warming fire. Jebbson reached in his pocket and pulled the crumpled note from it. Holding Darla close, he softly commented, "Sometimes it is better to leave letters undelivered so that the living may rest in peace." With that, he tossed the paper into the blaze, took one more look around at the shattered remains of the city, then turned and, with Darla at his side, headed for the shuttle.

The tiny ship gently lifted from the ground. Already, in the distance, red fingers of flame could be seen against the darkening sky. In a few hours, there was but one raging inferno.

News of what happened at Exothepobole would bring the final wakeup call to all men and women who desired freedom. No longer would neutrality assure safety. The hour of decision had now arrived upon all people.

Although the King's War was to last for twenty years, the death knell sounded for Asotos' kingdom on that day. Who he was and what he stood for was openly exposed for all of Lowenah's children to see. No longer would smooth words and cunning speech hold back the building storm surge that was soon to break upon his world.

The Age of Indecision had ended...

* * *

When news of the Exothepobole debacle reached EdenEsonbar, Mihai gathered her available advisors and military commanders to Palace City for a war council. At issue: was the time now come to make a declaration of war against Asotos and his people? Debate was emotional and, at times, heated.

Trisha had been most vocal in arguing for war while Anna had recommended caution. At one point, Trisha delivered particularly scathing commentary on just how dangerous it would be to wait any longer.

In response, Anna stood and delivered a biting rebuttal. "You speak of a certainty of victory when it has been revealed by your own words not many days ago that we do not have the needed trained soldiers and equipment to match our foe. Your certainty also extends to believing we are justified in declaring war when we still do not have needed proof that Adelphos is truly responsible for the recent atrocities against our brothers!"

Trisha stood, aghast, slamming her fist on the table. "The whole universe knows full well who is behind the murder of those people! They are beseeching us to right this terrible wrong. From the farthest reaches of the galaxy, they are calling for war, looking to us for leadership! You say history will judge us and the decisions we make. I say, let us be the ones writing that history!" She pointed an accusing finger at Anna. "You have said, 'we need more time to build up our strength.' I say that every day we build up ours, Asotos also continues to build up his. What would you have us do? Will our enemy stop gaining in strength and wait on us to catch up?"

It was Anna's turn to lose her temper and slam her hands on the table. "A 'child of a forgotten age' you have named yourself, and rightly so! You know nothing of war, yet spout off with arrogant ignorance, thinking you are wise like our ancient counselors. Look around and learn some respect when in the company of such elders as are present here today!"

Trisha leaned forward, hands on the table, seething, "The reason we are here today, trying to find a way to save our collective asses is because of the goddamned wisdom of your ancient counselors! Asotos would have no power at all if YOU hadn't gone back to your foolish dreams of yesterday and let him rebuild his armies!"

Anna's face flushed red in fury. She lifted her fist into the air and began to offer a retort.

"That's enough, both of you!" Gabrielle scolded. The room silenced and all faces turned toward her. She quietly stood while eyeing first one antagonist and then the other. "The Devil's work is with us today. A divided people will certainly fall. Anna, where is the wisdom in your speech and reasoning?" Then she eyed Trisha, asking, "And you, field marshal of all the Army, where is your respect for gray-headedness? Shall I recall your mistakes and failures in front of this crowd? Will it win us the victory?"

Both women sheepishly sat down. Gabrielle scanned the room, her smoky-gray eyes burning with intensity, her warning to all harsh and cold. "War is upon us. Whether we choose to bring it or it comes on its own, there will be no stopping it."

No one spoke.

Satisfied with that response, Gabrielle sat before continuing. "Let me remind you all of what we are doing here. It is not our right to declare the hour for war. Michael sits before us this day and she must decide, for she now stands in Lowenah's stead. We are but counselors attempting to offer guidance in what is her decision to make."

Bowing her head low, out of respect for Mihai's royal authority, Gabrielle addressed her king. "My Lord, you have heard the counsel of your servants. Into your hands we place the verdict. Whatever is the wish of the Court, we shall support."

Mihai nodded but said nothing. Her heart ached with indecision. She had sought her mother's permission to be released from position of field marshal, for she no longer wanted to be charged with deciding the death of her soldiers. Now, as king, there was but one decision that must be made, one that would start the wheels of destiny turning, leading to the slaughter and death of millions. The question wasn't if she should make war, but when and for what good purpose. Eventually, she stood and addressed the gathering.

"My brothers and sisters, war is coming, of that we can be sure. Please remember this: in all our history we have never initiated it. We have weathered it. In the past, it has served our purpose and we have been successful. I fear that to do the same now will lead to disaster. This time, we must strike first!" Looking directly at Trisha, Mihai added, "What is at issue then is when and, regrettably, for what reason." She studied the other faces. "I feel that the death of our loved ones at Exothepobole does not satisfy law."

There was some surprised mumbling, but Mihai waved it down as she explained, "I believe Asotos is behind the murder of those people, just as you do. But I do not believe there is the proof needed should the issue be made in a court of law. Our own law has clearly stated, 'At the mouth of two or three witnesses let all things be established' _._ Is that not so? Yet we have not found even one witness who could prove that Pseudes military was active in the slaughter. Other than Pseudes uniforms being worn by some of the murderous band, we have no other evidence at all - no ships or officers to prove Asotos' people were involved. Even the survivors at the Marine compound tell us that they only saw Stasis attack them.

Mihai rested her hands on the table and groaned, "In my heart, I know who perpetrated this atrocity. As I live, I know it! But I am afraid the children of future days will demand of us answers and reasons to justify a war declaration, and I don't feel it is yet in our grasp." She let out a heavy sigh. "The final decision will be mine. But please, at this time, show me your choice so that I will know with certainty how my counselors feel." Starting with Trisha, she worked her way around the table.

Trisha drew her dagger from its sheath and, raising it high, drove it point-first into the table's thick teakwood top. Planetee did the same, showing a little more reserve. Sarah followed with the same action and then Jonathan. Gabrielle requested to pass for the moment, wishing not to influence the others. Paul looked over at the three warriors he very much respected. Expressing deep sadness, he laid his dagger on the table. Anna and the other two counselors had no weapons, but sided with Paul.

All faces turned toward Gabrielle. Four had chosen in favor, four had chosen against. The one-time field marshal and current commander of all the navies now had to break the tie. She pulled her knife out and held it above the table, hesitating while she peered into Mihai's eyes. Gabrielle carefully studied them, attempting to read what they were saying. After breathless seconds, she slowly lowered the knife and lay it down.

There were audible sighs, some expressing relief and others dismay. Mihai hung her head in thought, pondering what to do. Finally, looking up at others, she addressed the issue. "I shall rest on this matter, and eight days hence I will reveal my decision. Please do not attempt any more contact with me until I seek your faces. You have all served me well and now I must examine things by myself. Should there be new revelations regarding this or other events, my house servants will inform me. I will take all things into consideration." She turned to her commanding officers. "You may continue to prepare for war, for it will come, and soon. Advance your plans as you see fit, but do not...and let me repeat...but do not make war unless it is in defense. Put all your forces on alert and warn them of possible attacks."

Mihai thanked everyone for their assistance and dismissed them. Without further discussion or comment, she turned and hurried away to the secret confines of the Upper Palace, seeking solace in the hidden gardens.

* * *

Darla lay on the bed, her eyes staring up into the darkness of her tiny cabin, listening to Jebbson's heavy breathing, feeling the weight of his sweaty arm resting across her breasts. It had been a very difficult episode with the demon this night and both she and the major were exhausted from the struggle. For now, the beast was hiding, and with good reason. The sheer force and raw energy unleashed upon it was overpowering. Unlike Euroaquilo or Ardon, Jebbson was as wild and ruthless as the demon itself, being borne of the same master.

There was no more need to attempt sleep. It had long since fled, as it had done these past six nights. The genocide at Exothepobole and the murder of Tashi haunted Darla day and night. In their many dream shares, Ardon had often fantasized over being with the woman he so deeply cherished. Darla could see the two in the sweetness of love-making, him revealing secrets about his own inner doubts and insecurities that he had never dared even whisper to another soul.

A wave of loneliness enveloped Darla as she lay there, warm and comfortable in the secure feeling of Jebbson's protection. The woman thought of Euroaquilo and began to quietly weep, seeing him gone from her life as Tashi was from Ardon's. How could she ever live if disaster struck and took him away? Lifting Jebbson's arm, Darla slipped from the bed, the man's continued heavy breathing assuring her that he still slept undisturbed. Gingerly sliding the panel door open, she stepped into companionway, closing the cabin door behind her.

It was standard military practice to set up shipboard life in a twenty-four hour cycle, imitating the rotation times of EdenEsonbar. It was now late night aboard Shikkeron. Other than those on duty roster, the remainder of the crew was squirreled away in the solitude of their own private worlds. Walking through the darkened corridors in the quiet morning hours was a soothing pastime for Darla. She could feel the reassuring, pulsing throb of the ship's powerful engines through the metal deck plates, while cool, filtered air blowing from overhead vents would bathe her naked body in a refreshing tingle.

At moments like this, Darla often closed her eyes and imagined being returned to childhood days of early spring in the mountains near Palace City. She could see herself running through melting drifts, forlorn little islands of snow in an ocean of green, awash with flecks of yellow and white. These were the last bastions of winter's great invasion, the remaining resistance of a conquered season now fleeing north. Darla was the herald of their final doom and her occasional defeat when she slipped and fell into the icy crystals only hastened their destruction. Snow would spray into the grass while the child hopped up, shivering, until the sun again warmed her unclothed flesh.

With eyes closed, Darla stretched and, throwing her shoulders back, sucked in the air 'til her lungs ached with pleasure, reveling in the oxygen-rich intoxication, holding it until her body cried for more. Letting go, the air leaked past her lips, gradually shrinking the woman's stature as her chest compressed and shoulders sank. With deliberate control, she stood motionless, eyes still closed, the look of anticipated satisfaction quickly fading from her face.

Darla's eyes popped open. She glanced around. Something wasn't right. The loneliness was still with her. Or was it loneliness? The woman lifted her nose toward the ceiling as if sniffing the breeze. There it was, for sure, an undercurrent of discord that she could feel between her shoulders and in the back of her head. Then the chilling whisper of a sinister snigger in her mind sent a shiver racing down her back. Was the demon aware of some hidden evil brewing? Whatever it was, Darla wasn't going to patiently wait in inactivity. That had never been her style.

Quietly slipping back into her cabin, Darla found Phulakee, strapping its belt around her waist. She exited the room and stealthily hurried down the corridor. Passing sickbay, she noticed Ardon slumped over Sergeant Oida, fast asleep, his hand still closed around hers. Darla couldn't help but feel wonder and compassion. The man had not left the woman's side since returning to Shikkeron. Thanks to his continuous healing powers and the surgeon's outstanding work in saving her leg, the sergeant was rapidly recovering. Just earlier that day, they had her up and walking.

Darla hurried on. After giving pause, she decided to visit the bridge. Quietly passing through the entrance hatch, Darla looked up at the captain's bridge and then forward to the communications deck. She climbed the ladder stairs and casually approached the bridge officer who smiled her friendly hello. The officer eyed Darla's sword with curiosity, seeing she was not in uniform, but said nothing about it. She went on to engage the colonel in some friendly banter.

Darla glanced over at the steerage officer who was busy at his controls, quietly whistling a little tune. Satisfied with what she saw, but still ill at ease, she asked the bridge officer, "Do we have a good head, Leftenant?"

The woman nodded and smiled, "Yes, Colonel Adaya. We're running clear and strong. All systems are 'go'."

Darla returned the smile. "Thank you, Leftenant." She then stepped up to the forward rail and looked down at the communications deck.

Although having been ordered to stand down from general quarters, Shikkeron was still on alert status, meaning that all essential duty stations maintained a full roster around the clock. The communication's deck was one such place. Scanning the late night hustle of an overcrowded bridge, Darla could see nothing out of the ordinary. She shook her head. Maybe it was just the stress from recent events catching up with her.

Darla slowly made her way along the bridge, examining dials and gages. Everything seemed fine. She shrugged. Her nightly struggle with the demon in her mind had exhausted the woman more than she realized. Surrendering her uncertainties, Darla decided to return to her cabin. Passing the navigation station, Darla glanced over at the holo-screen and froze. It was clear of any blips. "Where are our escorts?" she demanded, grabbing hold of the navigation officer's arm.

Surprised, the officer nervously replied, "Why, they and Divulsion were sent north to rendezvous with OjibSheannon."

"When?" Darla demanded. "And who gave the order?"

The officer of the bridge interrupted, "Some two hours ago, Colonel. It was just before we passed the Twin Suns, east of the QuinStinre Basin. The captain ordered it."

Darla paled as Euroaquilo's words of caution came to mind. 'We can only give you cover as far as QuinStinre.' Then she heard a quiet cackle in the back of her head. "Turn us around!" Darla demanded. She repeated her command, almost shouting "Turn us around, now!!"

"Colonel?" The bridge officer was dumbfounded.

Darla got in her face. "Turn this tub around now or I'll run you through!"

Without waiting for a reply, the colonel shouted down to the communication's bridge, "Recall Divulsion and it escorts! Tell it to 'burn up the engines' for the closest quadrant of the Outer Corridor on an intercept course with us. Give them a code red!"

"Colonel," the bridge officer sputtered, "I have the helm!"

Darla drew Phulakee and shoved its point in the woman's face, growling defiant, "I rule this bridge! Do as you're ordered!"

A very shaken lieutenant turned and ordered Shikkeron around.

Darla shouted down to the communications officer, "Send this message to the Fleet: 'The western star falls into shadows'." She shook her sword in the bridge officer's face, "Sound general quarters! And call the captain to the bridge!"

In two minutes, a disheveled and very angry Bedan stumbled up the ladder to the captain's bridge. He was met with the point of a blazing-hot derker blade. Darla stood with feet spread, eyes ablaze, seething with rage. "Tell me the meaning of this or I'll skewer you to the bridge head!"

Bedan saw death coming quickly and threw his hands up, crying, "The meaning of what, Colonel? The meaning of what?"

"This!" She pointed toward the upper display that was now showing the navigator's screen along with a grid of coordinates. Her upper lip curled as she fumed, "You were fully informed that we were not to pass QuinStinre for any reason! What say you about this?" Darla squinted as she eyed captain Bedan with suspicion. "Sooooo..." the woman bared her teeth, "Are you the gall hidden in the sweet wine, the agent used to dull our senses while the darkness gathers us in?"

Bedan might have been offended had he not been so concerned for his life. He denied being any part of a conspiracy, pleading, "Queen Adaya, my fate is the same as yours! Together we shall live or die! Your enemies are my enemies."

Darla interrupted, sarcastically demanding, "Tell me, my loyal comrade, what good reason was there to send Divulsion away and leave us stripped of power and impotent!? Your orders have left us a lone lion in a jungle filled with hyenas! Should the pack still remain, we can not stand their attack!"

"I have no idea what your..." Bedan followed Darla's hand to the display. His eyes bulged as his face filled with excitement and disbelief as he began to stutter, "I...I...didn't...didn't issue any orders!"

"Oh, really?" Darla snorted in surprise, tightening her grip on Phulakee. "Your deck officers say differently..."

Whining, Bedan cried, "I issued no orders! I issued no orders!" He looked beseechingly at his junior officers.

"You did, Captain!" the bridge officer countered while the steerage and navigation officers nodded in agreement. She then defended her statement. "About twenty minutes after you retired from the bridge with the 1st officer, he came back, issuing us your written orders." She pulled a paper from the message log and handed it to Bedan.

Bedan wildly shook the paper, "I didn't write this!"

Darla took the note and examined it. She suspiciously eyed Bedan. "Sure looks like your signature, Cap...tain."

Bedan fumed, "Well it's not! IT'S NOT! I want to find out what's going on!"

Darla slowly lowered her blade. "I wish to get some answers, too. Your 1st officer should be able to set matters straight." She ordered the bridge, "Contact Major Garlock and the Marine ready room. Have him and two Marines meet us on the officers' deck on the double! And no more written commands, understood?"

The officer nodded, acknowledging Darla's orders, then asked, "Are you taking command of Shikkeron, Colonel?"

Darla responded, "No, a man is innocent until proven guilty. Captain Bedan remains master of this ship until the facts are known. If he is innocent, then I owe him my sincerest apologies. If he is guilty, he will not be returning to the bridge."

Darla sheathed Phulakee while calling two Navy orderlies to accompany them. She then asked Bedan, "Ready?" Bedan nodded, leading the way from the bridge.

In a few minutes, the party met up with Jebbson, who had managed to pull on a pair of pants and grab his gun belt before bolting off to the sounding of general quarters. The two Marines, each carrying a sidearm, arrived just behind him. The group hurried down the passageway to the 1st officer's cabin.

Bedan pounded on the 1st officer's door, shouting for him to answer. No reply. Finally, the two orderlies muscled their way into the room by forcing the door off its track. Darkness rushed out to greet them, carrying upon its breeze the faint odor of perfume and exhausted passion accompanied by some other disquieting smell.

Darla's demon let loose with wild, screeching laughter, the woman buckling as she clutched her head in pain. Jebbson reached out, taking hold of her arm. "Colonel Adaya?"

Tears of agony grew in Darla's eyes as she cried, "Get out! Get out, now!"

The orderlies quickly obeyed, stumbling over one another in their hurry. Darla was on her knees, saliva dripping from her mouth, fighting back a sudden nausea sweeping over her. Jebbson knelt beside her, offering support while slowly rubbing her back in hopes of easing the sickness.

The demon quickly loosed its grip on Darla's mind, surrendering to the woman's willpower and, feeling Jebbson's presence, hastened its retreat to safer havens. With Jebbson's assistance, Darla stood, her knees a little wobbly at first. When she got her wits about her, she asked for a light, warning everyone to stay clear of the room.

A Marine quickly retrieved a portable light-pack from his pocket and offered it to Darla. She stepped up to the doorway and shone the light into the cabin. A body - or what looked like one - lay fallen back on the bed. Already, white crusty patches were forming over oozing, red blotches that would swell up and pop, spraying white puss and mist into the air. Darla shook her head. "It's the Red Leprosy. Quick! Get me an extinguisher."

One of the Marines hurried down the corridor and soon returned with a huge metal canister filled with a foam concentrate used to fight fires. Darla grabbed it with both hands and sprayed the room with its thick, sticky goo. When finished, she turned back to the orderlies. "You two get to sickbay. That stuff has a very short incubation time. Tell the surgeon you were exposed to type A leprosy. He'll know what to do."

The two orderlies needn't be told twice to make haste for sickbay. Everyone in the First Realm knew what this red leprosy was. In ages past, a milder form was used to deliver wrath upon traitors and false prophets in the Second Realm. After Michael took over as steward, it was decided to discontinue using such plagues on the people of that world. Lowenah's children disposed of all their reserves, but they still carried the antidote because Asotos' people threatened its use. Darla explained all this to Jebbson as she watched the orderlies hurry away.

She then let out a weary sigh. "The foam will contain it. You can only catch the infection if you touch it or inhale the mist from a sore. Someone didn't want our 1st officer talking. His last romantic interlude came at a heavy cost."

Jebbson queried, "Why do you speak of his romancing someone?"

Darla's face was grim. "The dream share is part of our inherent culture. It is Lowenah's gift to her daughters to be able to make request of a man to give to her this pleasure. Asotos has been known to corrupt Mother's gifts in his clandestine war against our people...and so with this one. It has been successfully used in assassination plots. You see, a female enemy agent could attach a gel membrane to the rugae of her vaginal canal. It could remain there for weeks or months, with no way of being detected."

An emergency medical team came rushing down the corridor. They were suited up in protective clothing, wearing full headgear and carrying containment equipment. One of the medical team personnel requested that everyone wait there. Darla and the others backed down the hall until called.

The colonel finished filling Jebbson in. "When the woman finally got to be with the desired victim, she could use certain pelvic muscles to release a tiny syringe into the man's male member. If everything worked as planned, in about twenty minutes the man would start coming down with the first symptoms. By that time, the woman had long departed the scene and, with use of another common chemical, injected into her female member, she could destroy all trace of the encounter, including the male's DNA.

"Within a minute or two after the first symptom – a numbing tingle in the outer extremities accompanied by a mild fever - a crippling paralysis would set in. By the time open sores appeared - like on our 1st officer - the victim was long dead from the internal destruction of his vital organs."

Darla sadly shook her head. "It took years to find out what was happening. Dozens of our best leaders and thinkers died before it was figured out. We finally developed an easy, inconspicuous test to determine who might be carrying such a device. Most of the female enemy agents were caught, bringing an end to the scourge. It's been so long since something like this has been done, few even bother to take precautions anymore. We may have to change our thinking after tonight."

Their attention was drawn to the far end of the corridor. The ship's surgeon, followed by an assistant, hurried to meet them. He glanced into the cabin where the medical team was busy working. They had just finished enclosing the officer's body in a sealed bag, and were beginning to strip the room of all contents.

The surgeon hurried on, stopping in front of the captain. Without saying a word, he extracted a light and, while pulling down Bedan's lower eyelid, shone it into his eye. He let out a sigh of satisfaction and moved on to a Marine standing next to Bedan. The surgeon's assistant quickly followed up, administering an antidote, first to Bedan and then the others.

Darla had just been inoculated when a voice on the overhead requested the captain's presence on the bridge. Following Bedan down the companionway, Darla called back over her shoulder to Jebbson and the Marines, "Join me on the bridge when you're finished there." Off she ran to catch up with the captain.

Captain Bedan and Darla stared at the upper screen. The bridge officer commented, "We picked the bogies up just after swinging back past the Twin Suns. Right now we're tracking them on an intercept course with ours that will bring them within range in about fifteen minutes."

Bedan asked his navigation officer, "Can we pull out to the south, Q southwest, and put some distance between us and them?"

She replied it was not possible. "Sir, the fingers of the CrystallineNebulas stretch across our south, spreading northwest, Q west, far into the Outer Corridor. We cannot maintain any real speed through that maze of rock and ice. As it is, at our present speed we are being forced to make a slow turn to our north, Q northwest, to avoid collision with its outer extremities."

Bedan expressed dismay, his voice trailing off as he pondered the situation. "So they have us in a vice..."

Impatient, the bridge officer asked, "What do you suggest we do, Captain?"

Bedan said nothing, deep in thought, trying to sort out the rapidly developing events while his mind kept returning to his 1st officer and the intrigue of the moment. He was still stinging from Darla's rather open questioning of his loyalty, and the untimely death of his officer had not proved his innocence. Everything was happening too fast. He needed some time to think, time he did not have.

Darla grabbed hold of Bedan's arm. "Let's have at 'em! We'll point Shikkeron straight at their throats!"

"What? What good'll that do!?" Bedan sputtered, flustered by Darla's cowboy remedy, "We're one ship, and need to get away."

Darla drew so close her nose was nearly touching Bedan's. In an excited whisper, she snarled, "We're gonna have to fight! No way out of it. But we need to buy some time and gain some space."

Bedan continued to protest, "But we're only one ship!"

Looking into Bedan's face, Darla studied his eyes. She saw no deception, only bewilderment. No wonder the man had been overlooked for promotion all these years. Darla could also understand why the captain had usually been assigned to fleet duties or been given errand assignments like this one was supposed to have been. It didn't tax his brain with troublesome details. She understood that simple argument would be uselessly served at this time.

Darla glanced at the screen. Already the advancing forces were maneuvering into attack formation. She leaned close, gently taking hold of Bedan's arm. "My good Captain, we're not on some sluggish old bilander. This is Shikkeron, last of the Hava-class ships of war built! It's the biggest damn brigantine ever came from the Contorie Navy Yard! And with its last refit, it's damn near frigate class!

"The last thing those Stasis will expect is for us to turn and go barreling straight in at 'em. They won't know what's goin' on, wondering what trick's up our sleeve...or even more terrifying, they'll think we've gone completely mad! We'll throw 'em off track, slow 'em down! That'll give us some time, plus open up more maneuvering space for us." She squeezed Bedan's arm. "Look, the enemy knows we know that their sheer numbers will eventually overpower us. What's more important, we know they know that before we're taken out, we'll take out a bunch of them. But what they don't know is which ones we'll make our targets. That'll make 'em nervous and throw them off game."

Bedan agreed that what Darla said was correct, but argued that it would be utter foolishness to expend the ship and crew on a plan guaranteed to bring death or capture. He suggested they attempt a retreat into the Crystalline Nebulas. "After all, like us, their ships will be forced to slow down."

Darla disagreed. "No, Captain Bedan, that ploy will not succeed. I do not believe the approaching armada is made up solely of Stasis Pirates. Salak is in the area. He is undoubtedly responsible for the murder of Exothepobole. His Pseudes warships will carry high-speed interceptors. Those fighters will engage us in the asteroid field, knocking out our defenses. When they're done, the big ships will be able to mosey in and finish us off." Glancing again at the screen and back at Bedan, Darla whispered something in the captain's ear. What she said shook Bedan from his confusion. Nodding his head, he said, "It might work. It just might work."

Captain Bedan turned to his deck officers, "Make for intercept with the bogies, thirty degrees flat, engines full! Call to battle stations!"

Shikkeron heeled hard to starboard as its massive bulk twisted to the north. Amidst audible groans of the ship's hull as it absorbed the sudden stress created by the turn, gravity machines were incapable of maintaining a level deck. Anything lying loose was flung across the decks. Crewmembers unfortunate enough to have not found a secure handhold were sprawled across the floor or thrown from their seats.

In seconds, the Empire's imperial brigantine, Shikkeron, was up to attack speed, reaching out to engage the approaching enemy, the brig shuddering as if in excited anticipation of coming battle. Blood and fire and bone and steel became one heart and soul hurtling toward an unsure destiny, determined to set the universe ablaze with its fury.

* * *

Salak stared out the forward window of his ship, whistling some jaunty little tune. His initial disappointment at Shikkeron's turn around was quickly fading, feeling he was now close to boxing his enemy in. Looking into the starry sky, he envisioned his fleet of pirates forcing his opponent into surrender or, at worst into the Nebulas' rock field.

When Godenn's game plan was upset by Shikkeron turning about, Salak had adjusted his strategy and gone in hot pursuit. It was originally intended that his Stasis and Pseudes warships were to be the hounds, sweeping in behind Shikkeron as it passed the Twin Suns going east, preventing the fox from escaping, while Godenn's advancing forces would hem the ship in and capture Shikkeron with its crew alive.

Now Shikkeron had forced a change of plans. Salak would attempt a disabling attack to slow his victim down, giving Godden's taskforce time to overtake Shikkeron. If that didn't work, Salak would push the ship into the rock fields and release his fighters to inflict crippling damage.

Lieutenant Namir burst into the room. "Commander! Commander, they've turned straight toward us, comin' at attack speed!"

Salak whipped around, a shock-filled face showing his disbelief. He stormed toward the hatch, shaking a fist at Namir. "You'd better not be shittin' me or I'll cut out your heart!"

Namir cried out in his own defense, "I'm not, Commander! The ship's comin' straight in on our line! We'll be engaged in five minutes!"

Salak rushed for the bridge, Namir close on his heels.

"Yes, Sir," the bridge officer anxiously replied, "it never even slowed down when it turned. Thought the ship would rip herself apart doin' it." He glanced at his observation screen. "Now it's put on speed and comin' straight toward us!"

Salak stared at the screen, watching the flashing blip moving closer. He fumed, "It ain't that friggin' wimp Bedan at the bridge! He's not man enough to take on a move like that!" He whipped around, grabbing Namir's jacket, shaking him. "I was promised that little bitch-girl would be down by now! If she's on the bridge, we'll have hell to pay!" Salak pushed Namir away and began shouting to his bridge officers, "Signal the fleet to prepare to engage the enemy. No big guns! No big guns, got it? I want these people alive. Prepare for evasive action!"

"Two minutes to contact," the voice of the navigation officer echoed back over her shoulder.

Bedan nervously looked at Darla, asking, "Are you sure we want to do this?"

Darla nodded, "The worst is we'll rip ourselves apart and become the biggest shrapnel bomb in history. At our speed, we're bound to take out a few of 'em."

Bedan gave a grim-faced nod and ordered his bridge officers, "Ready forward battery! Ready starboard battery! Prepare for radical reverse on my mark!"

The hodgepodge armada of Stasis luggers, armed bilanders, a sprinkling of busses and cutters, along with the Pseudes' four cutters and Salak's barquentine slowed down and spread out in web formation, Salak's bark at the far western end of the line. He hoped to envelope Shikkeron using an umbrella maneuver where the bulk of Salak's force would gather inward, closing for enemy intercept, while the remainder would spread out in a spherical formation to close around the ship as it passed.

Salak ordered his bridge officer, "Prepare the fighters for launch. Pass my directive on to the other ships."

Suddenly the navigation officer cried out, "We have incoming! Shikkeron's let go a spread of torpedoes, Commander! They're going wild!"

"What!?" Salak screamed. "How many did those bastards let go?"

The excited officer paused to examine his screen, studying ghostly images of approaching missiles. "Can't tell! Eight...maybe twelve! They're scatterin' all over the map! Can't nail 'em down!"

Salak looked up at the main screen to watch the wild trajectory of these crazy weapons. "Damn corkscrews! Rotten, bitchin' corkscrews! Should 'a sent real assassins to have that girl taken out!"

Bedan had ordered Shikkeron's missiles programmed to lock on targets, but to then fly erratically, confusing their intended victims. It was a dangerous maneuver for any attacking ship, considering it might fly into one of its own missiles. Salak knew just how dangerous this tactic was and puzzled over it being done. He also knew the great risk it was to ships grouped close together as the hub of his armada was now.

His thoughts of how to counter the attack were interrupted by the navigation officer's wild shouts. "It's comin' round, slidin' to larboard!"

Salak mumbled as he stared dumbly at the screen, "She'll come apart! She'll tear herself friggin _'_ apart!"

Another cry rang in Salak's ear. "We got a broadside! They gave us a broadside!"

The screen was now filled with dozens of ghostly tracers zigzagging in every direction. Behind them, Shikkeron was slowly pivoting on its axis, turning stem to stern. Salak's hounds had seriously underestimated the fox. Even if it should tear itself asunder, there would be little celebrating among Salak's crews.

Salak screamed for evasive action as two torpedoes homed in on his ship.

Few on board Shikkeron believed they'd survive this last maneuver. Never had anyone attempted a full turnabout at attack speed with a ship the size of an imperial brigantine and survived to tell of it. The ancient vessel screeched and groaned as it yawed hard to port. Machinery ripped away from anchor bolts and securing harnesses. Even some galley tables tore loose from the floor. Bulkheads threatened to come apart, snapping cables, splitting ductwork and spraying the decks with jagged shards of metal and glass. Unsecured objects became deadly missiles, hurtling across rooms and cabins.

As if moaning in labor pains, Shikkeron twisted around in its suicidal maneuver. Despite its five hundred years of stalwart service, the old brigantine refused to surrender to the forces attempting to tear it apart. Completing its turn, the ship headed toward the advancing enemy at near attack speed, a giant iron asteroid plummeting through space.

Bedan shouted for the engine room to fire main thrusters. In an explosive gasp, two powerful rockets lit the sky with their angry flames. Shikkeron gradually skidded to a halt, its powerful engines fighting against the ship's hurtling mass, threatening to tear away from their mountings and plunge up through the ship that grudgingly resisted them. They gradually succeeded stopping the thousands of tonnes of steel and began pushing Shikkeron away from the opposing armada.

When the ship picked up sufficient speed, Bedan called down to his ordnance officer, "Plant some seeds, Leftenant! Spread 'em wide and long."

"Aye, Captain!" the officer cheerily replied. He radioed aft to the rear battery, "Lay the mines. Spread 'em wide and deep! Give 'em all you have!"

Four hatches near the stern of Shikkeron opened, pouring hundreds of tiny disk-shaped bombs into the brig's wake. The aft battery reported back to the ordnance officer when the mission was completed. The officer looked up, smiling, "We gave gravity, magnetic, contact, and heat-sensing to 'em, Sir. Even threw in a couple of timed, thermo-static ones, just in case."

Bedan acknowledged, satisfied, returning to examining the gages and readouts. With Darla, he watched the command screen to see Salak's navy scattering to avoid the barrage of mendelevium-tipped missiles that tore into their ranks. At least half a dozen white puffs on the screen gave evidence that some found targets. The destructive force of such weapons could easily cripple vessels like those found in the Stasis armada. It would take Salak a little while to regroup, allowing Shikkeron precious time to gain needed distance on him.

Bedan called to his bridge, "Push it to the west. Keep up the speed." He had turned back to Darla and was about to compliment her on an outstanding battle maneuver when a violent shudder racked the ship. The steerage officer shouted into the intercom, "Engine room! Engine room! Give us a status report!"

There was an agonizing wait before the engine room responded. News wasn't good. "Bridge, this is the engine room. We have an emergency! The starboard cooling pump exploded, killing or injuring most of fire crew! We are leaking ammonia-cyanide into the number three boiler! Must shut it down! Repeat, must shut it down!"

An aching pain rushed through Bedan's chest. His eyes searched Darla's face for guidance. She sadly nodded, knowing his question. He turned to his officers. "Slow to the engine room's mark. Put the fighter pilots on stand-by." He then ordered his ordnance officer, "Man all battle stations and charge defensive batteries!"

Darla called down to the communications officer, "Tell the Marine ready room we are under attack and that Captain IrrStellia is to deploy her company to repel boarders. Also tell her that Captain Bedan has the bridge. On his orders..."

Bedan turned to his bridge officer. "Ready a homing drone with ship's history and logs. Release it as soon as you're finished."

After sending a coded distress signal, he and Darla looked up at the screen. There was little now to do but wait...watch the screen and wait...

Salak's ruthless reputation for dealing with those who disappointed him proved to work in his favor this day. The Stasis had suffered the brunt of Shikkeron's wrath, with three ships destroyed and four others crippled. Still, few of the Stasis captains dared withdraw from following Salak's commands. Only three of the two dozen or so remaining Stasis ships pulled away from Salak's armada, those being from more distant and wild colonies. The others grudgingly fell in line and joined the Pseudes in hot pursuit.

After Salak screamed threats and scathing denunciations at the fleeing pirates, he turned his attention back to the retreating Shikkeron, sending a message to the remaining ships to 'let go all fighters'. After shouting, "Prepare the scullers!" he commented to Namir, "If our people are still alive, they'll have that hulk down in short order. As soon as the fighters are off, order the armada back up to speed. Report to me when we're close!" Salak headed back to his captain's lounge, hands clasped behind his back, whistling a merry little tune.

"We have bandits!" The navigation officer's voice rose with excitement.

Bedan's eyes shot to the overhead screen. The blips were faint, making it difficult to identify the number. "How many are there?" he called back to the navigation officer, her face now hidden in the ship's enhancement-scope view-finder.

The woman gave a half-muffled reply. "At least twenty, Sir. Their erratic movements are making it to hard to tell, but they are advancing in our direction."

Desperation was growing in Bedan's voice. "We can't outrun them! At our present speed, they'll be on us in ten minutes!"

At that moment, the communications officer shouted up to the captain's bridge. "It's Divulsion and its escorts, teamed up with OjibSheannon along with a complement of WolfPack and Tarezabarian vessels. They have just engaged three Stasis ships, destroying two. It reports to have the enemy on its scope and is closing." She put a hand to her headset. "It's preparing to send off fighters."

Darla grinned, her nostrils flaring with the smell of battle. "Let's have at 'em!" She clutched Bedan's arm in her excitement. "If we die today, it should be pursuing our enemy, not fleeing! Let go the fighters and then double refuse our track!"

Bedan argued, "The ship's down already! We have half speed at best. And our fighters are little more than armed scout craft. If what you say is so, if we stay on this track, it's possible we may make contact with the Fleet's pickets and be able to get away safe."

Darla was indignant, her fiery retort abusive. "This is a ship of war! It is our duty to play our part in combat! Divulsion is not our rescuer! It is our ally! We do not abandon our allies while on the field. We started this war, and we either need to finish it or be finished by it!" Glancing at the upper viewing screen, she argued, "My Marine pilots will take out the enemy, two for one. It's better to die with triggers pressed and engines full than to see your ship taken out while cowering in a cave!"

Darla stared Captain Bedan in the face, slamming a fist in her hand. "They want me? Well, I'll give 'em what they want! I'll not die with a whimper!"

Bedan threw his hands up in surrender. "All right! All right!" He turned and shouted across the bridge, "Send out the fighters and bring us around! We have some unfinished business to attend to." then exclaimed defensively, "There are no cowards here!"

Darla squinted, her reply caustic. "Captain, do not fear cowards. Be afraid of incompetent leaders."

The hurt in Bedan's eyes was obvious. It stung deep. Still, 'the greater the pain, the closer to truth the arrow has struck'. He bowed his head, attempting to hide his feelings and quietly replied, "Yes, Colonel, you're right..."

Darla glanced around and, catching a yeoman's attention, ordered the woman off to get her uniform. Speaking to no one in particular, she exclaimed, "I want them to know whose sword is ripping them up."

Darla excused herself from the captain's bridge to talk with Jebbson who, along with the two Marines, had been patiently waiting near the entrance door below and behind the captain's bridge to receive further orders. After Darla descended the ladder, she began to inform Jebbson what was being done, seeking his input for dispersing her Marines around the ship.

Darla was about to make reply to one of Jebbson's recommendations when the demon within screeched in maniacal laughter. She stumbled forward, being caught in Jebbson's arms. At that moment, a violent explosion pitched them back into the bulkhead wall.

Coming out of their daze to the sound of hazard bells and red, flashing emergency lights, Darla and Jebbson struggled to their feet. Smoke was filling the room from a small but intense fire on the forward bridge, the deck just in front of the captain's bridge. Cries for help and painful moans could be heard over the din of the bells. The forward communications deck was little but a shambles of wrecked machines and torn bodies.

"Bedan!" Darla shouted, as she hurried for the ladder. Jebbson and the two Marines quickly followed.

The captain's bridge was nearly unrecognizable. The explosion had ripped up through the forward part, blowing out the front wall below the floor, spraying thousands of shards of jagged metal and glass across the communications deck. The front rail was torn away as well as the steerage and navigation stations, leaving a gaping hole just in front of the captain's station.

Darla and the others carefully made their way across a slippery, blood-smeared deck. The bridge officer's body was piled in a crumpled heap down on the communication's deck, entwined in the twisted bridge rail. The navigation officer had been busy studying her viewfinder when the explosion occurred directly under her station. Her decapitated body lay splayed across the floor, the muscles in her hands and feet still twitching.

A huge piece of the forward rail had also skewered the steerage officer through his chest. He lay unconscious on the floor, bleeding profusely. "Help that man!" Darla shouted to her Marines while she and Jebbson hurried to the captain's aid.

Bedan was sprawled on the floor beside the starboard side rail. He had been standing near the navigation officer when the blast killed her, showering him with blood and gore. At first, the two thought him dead, but then Bedan stirred and moaned. As they rolled him over, he opened his eyes and attempted to sit. It was obvious the captain was in shock, possibly with a concussion. Jebbson took hold of his arm, helping Bedan lie back on the floor.

Everything was bedlam and mayhem. Fire and medical rescue crews were converging on the command bridges, attempting to quench the flames and assist the wounded. But the greatest danger was not yet addressed. The now blind and crippled Shikkeron was heading straight into battle.

Sizing up the situation, Darla sprang into action. She ordered emergency workers to take the captain to sickbay, then, stepping to the edge of the shattered bridge, shouted forward, "I have the bridge! Back to your stations! Back to your stations, now!" There was no hesitancy in the woman's gruff, demanding voice, forcing the remaining crew back to their duties by rifling orders, one after another. "Give me status report on the enemy! Communications officer to your post! Communications officer, give me a report!"

A lower-midshipman limped toward Darla, answering up to her, "The officer's dead, Colonel... most of 'em are."

Darla's face showed only resolve. "Sailor, do you know the ship's routine for the bridge?"

"Y...yes, I do," the woman answered back.

"Good!" Darla snapped. "You are now the officer in charge. Get me a status report on damages. Call in all remaining bridge officers. Tell the operations room we need them to transmit visuals up here. Inform the defensive batteries to decide the battle for themselves." She paused. "And get Major Ardon up here, on the double!"

Darla attempted to ignore the joyous sniggers and sinister cackles from the demon in her head. She managed to catch Jebbson's attention. "Have you studied this ship enough to know how it works?"

Jebbson grinned, holding up bloodied fingers, shouting, "Like the back of my hand, Captain! Like the back of my hand!"

"Good!" Darla shouted, motioning, "Go to my command room and assist placing the Marines in defensive fighting positions around the ship. Make sure they are well equipped to offer a powerful resistance if we're boarded."

Jebbson acknowledged and started to leave. Darla stopped him. "And Major, this was no accident. Someone waited for me to leave the bridge. The skulker may still be up to some mischief. If you see anyone acting strange or sly, take 'em out. Whatever you have to do, understood?!"

Jebbson grinned again. "You got it, Captain! Shoot first and ask questions later! You got it!" He slipped away from the bridge just as Ardon came through the rear hatch.

The midshipman hailed Darla. "Bandits coming in...about eight or ten."

"Tell the crew to seal all bulkheads and don hazard suits!" the colonel ordered. "Prepare for missile attack!"

The midshipman hurriedly carried out the orders.

Darla now took time to examine the damage. There had been over twenty officers and crew on the crowded forward deck and five on the captain's bridge. Of that number, eight were killed outright and another twelve seriously injured. The visuals on both bridges were destroyed, along with the sonar and radio systems. Communication systems with the rest of the ship still existed, and the operations room soon was using that to transmit vital information up to the bridge.

Ardon was beginning to climb the ladder to the captain's bridge when he heard a shout. "We're under attack!" The next moment, he was desperately clinging to the ladder's climbing rails as the shock of multiple rocket hits made Shikkeron shudder and yaw. He managed to finish the climb just before the second barrage of rockets pummeled the lower hull, taking out a battery and smashing apart the mid and aft torpedo rooms.

Ardon picked his way across the slippery, cluttered deck, struggling to maintain his balance, reaching Darla just after she had received the latest damage reports. He anxiously asked, "Are we dead, Colonel?"

Darla was gripping what remained of the captain's station support rail. She shook her head, "No. No, not yet. Few of those rockets actually penetrated the ship's energy field, but the concussive force impacted the hull. Right now it's the energy field keeping the air in and space out. We have suffered a great deal of damage and there are large numbers of casualties. But we're still alive." She added grimly, "The real problem is we're crippled in our ability to take major evasive action because of the bridge damage. Until I can get down to the operations room or we can get things working here, that will remain the case."

The midshipman cried out again, "They're coming in! Prepare for missile attack!"

Four newly arrived fighters swooped across the stern of Shikkeron. Defensive batteries hammered away, destroying one and forcing a second to veer off, but the other two made good their attack. Three missiles hit their mark, one even penetrating the brig's energy field. In a blaze of light that even flashed across the bridge's portholes, the port igniter and number one boiler rooms blew out through the side of the ship, scattering debris and bodies into the sky. Shikkeron groaned as if mortally wounded and heeled to starboard.

Lights flickered as forward power faltered. Clutching her rail, Darla shouted for damage reports. When informed, she ordered the command room to have Jebbson sent to the engine room to assist with needed repairs in order to restart the engines. She now faced Ardon. "Major, our fuel cells are all that's keeping the energy field active. If we cannot restart our generators, this ship will soon be dead."

As Shikkeron slowed and began to drift, the crew busied themselves preparing for whatever defensive actions were possible, waiting with bated breath for the next fighter attack. Meanwhile, Jebbson and the remaining engine and boiler room crews worked frantically to restart the starboard engine, it still being undamaged. It was hoped that by connecting the port cooling pump to the starboard engine they could bypass the ruined starboard pump and also possibly re-fire the number three boiler.

There was sudden commotion on the communications deck. The midshipman, grinning in relief, rushed over, shouting, "They've broken off! The fighters have left off their attack!"

Shikkeron's turn-around flustered Salak. Why were they no longer fleeing? That thought so disturbed him, he almost recalled his fighters. Then he watched the ship's screen in frustration as the enemy's six tiny fighters broke up one attack after another. The ferocity of their aggressive actions helped offset the extremes in firepower between them and the Pseudes fighters. Stasis ships were pretty much ignored by Darla's Marines who concentrated mainly on Salak's pilots.

The contest was relatively short-lived, and five of the Marine fighter craft were lost, but at a heavy price to Salak. Six of his fighters were destroyed and four of the Stasis were taken out. True to Darla's words, Salak's armada received a two to one loss against the enemy. This sad turn of events also disheartened the commander because, when his fighters finally did arrive at their target, they were low on munitions, thus decreasing the damage inflicted on Shikkeron.

Salak's sadness was soon turned to great joy when reports reached his ears of Shikkeron's damage. "We have 'em now!" he shouted, almost singing. Standing in the captain's lounge, he danced a little jig, holding his arms high and snapping his fingers to a tune he hummed. When finished, Salak grabbed his grotesque helmet and trotted toward the bridge.

Salak was busy being complimented for his outstanding military genius when disaster struck. The few remaining Pseudes fighters still equipped with missiles were preparing to deliver the coup de grace to Shikkeron when the navigation officer cried out that they were under attack. Everyone had been so busy observing the fight with Shikkeron no one noticed Divulsion and OjibSheannon's fighters close on the unsuspecting armada. Salak ordered all the fighters recalled to thwart the coming onslaught.

If the attacking fighters could be compared to the point of a rapier, Divulsion and accompanying host should be compared to a hailstorm on a wheat field. Coming in right behind their fighters, they smashed through the Stasis warships, scattering the survivors like so much chaff. The Wolfpack's sixteen howkers and ketches tore the Stasis' luggers and bilanders to pieces. For weeks they had prowled the skies, waiting for such an opportunity to test the abilities of their new fighting machines. Against the Stasis' makeshift warriors, there was little contest.

In short order, the sky looked like one giant swarm of angry hornets. Ships of war engaged one another buccaneer style, sometimes closing to within battery range. Back and forth, up and down, round and round, went the war ships. Once in awhile a cheer would go up as a missile found its mark. At other times there would be cries and curses as hulls were breached and the crews saw coming death. On and on the battle surged, both sides taking losses and both gaining victories.

Salak's bark led the cutters into action. For close to twenty minutes, he pushed his ships to attack, but when he saw two of the cutters disappear in smoke and fire, he pulled his ship back seeking some way to escape the battle, and when a missile tore into the ship's hangar deck, killing its crew and partially disabling his bark's steerage, the commander ordered a hasty retreat. Then word from his navigation officer caused him to change his mind and issue new orders.

Damage control teams worked frantically to mend the stricken Shikkeron, while other work crews hurried to remove the injured to sickbay and extricate the dead from the wreckage. This brief respite afforded Darla opportunity to examine the condition of the ship as well as the crew. She climbed down from the captain's bridge and walked around the communications deck, asking others how they were doing, encouraging the distraught and consoling the mourning.

Eventually, Darla came to the lower midshipman who was still attempting command of the entire deck. The midshipman smiled through pale lips and wheezed, "We have things up, Colonel. Most of the systems are working and we should soon have visual on the upper screen."

After thanking her, Darla took time to examine the woman. One of her pant legs, from the knee down, was soaked with blood. Someone had tied a tourniquet around the midshipman's leg, but to little effect. A crimson pool was forming around the woman's foot as she stood there.

Darla asked, "How are you doing?"

In short breaths, the midshipman replied, "I'm fine \- just got - the wind knocked - out of me. As soon as I can catch - a breather, I'll be..." She coughed twice, putting her hand to her mouth. As she lowered it, Darla noticed dark, crimson saliva sticking her fingers.

Studying the woman's bloodied uniform, Darla quietly asked, while reaching out to examine the midshipman's shirt, "What's your name?"

The woman was somewhat surprised by the sudden attention. She hesitated before answering. "It's... I'm Midshipman Emunah, third class."

Darla began to gently tug on the woman's blouse, all the time keeping up a conversation. "Emunah... it means 'faithful' or 'with certainty', doesn't it?"

Emunah nodded and groggily smiled.

Darla was now pulling on the front of the blouse. "Did Mother give you that name or someone else?"

"I was given it by my bridge officers..." Her voice fell. "They're all dead now."

Darla finally managed to carefully draw the shirt open. There were three or four small puncture wounds in the woman's chest. It was obvious to the colonel that Emunah's lungs were slowly filling with blood. Without immediate medical attention from the ship's surgeon, the woman would die. The surgeon was currently counted among the missing and presumed dead.

Darla spoke consolingly while refastening Emunah's shirt. She then took hold of the midshipman's arms and called over her shoulder to an orderly. When the woman arrived, Darla looked Emunah in the eyes. "I think you need to get a little rest. I'll find someone to take over these duties, all right?"

Emunah wearily nodded. Her breathing was shallow by now and she appeared sleepy. Darla told the orderly to stay at the midshipman's side and make her comfortable. "Now don't leave her, understand?"

The orderly promised.

Darla gave Emunah a gentle hug and offered a reassuring smile. "You have earned your name today. I'm sure your bridge officers would be proud." She then assisted the orderly with helping Emunah to the floor, resting the woman against a side panel. She thanked her again for such stalwart duty, placing a departing kiss on her forehead.

Darla could not permit herself the luxury of mourning the loss of a comrade. She pushed on with her duties, tending to other injured, and issuing more orders. As the colonel absorbed herself in these matters, Emunah slowly sank into a quiet, peaceful sleep, holding the hand of the orderly who was softly singing pleasant melodies as the woman passed. Eventually Darla made her way back to Ardon, who was also busy helping and consoling the wounded. Getting his attention, Darla asked, "How's your girl, Sergeant Oida?"

Ardon reached out and brushed the hair away from Darla's face. How foolish he had been to think this woman sick and demented. Never in all his days had he seen such power and majesty wrapped around the depth of love and concern Darla displayed. 'Should the whole world be this insane, what a blessing it would be,' he thought, and then quietly answered, "My Queen Adaya..."

Darla was taken aback. Ardon only offered a tired smile, continuing, "I took the sergeant to my quarters when this all started. It's near a main bulkhead... you know, a secure place. After safely harnessing her in my cot, I came here, leaving an attendant to assist with her needs."

At that moment, the main lights flickered and then flashed on. Someone shouted, "The generator's working! They got the power back up!" The room broke out in joyous cries and applause. The yeoman Darla had sent to retrieve her uniform had been unsuccessful with her quest because of the damage to the ship and was now doing duty on the communications deck. She hurried over to the colonel and Ardon. "Engine room's reporting. They say the cooling pump is working and they have restarted two generators. They also feel that the starboard engine will soon be on line, shortly followed by the number three boiler in ten minutes or so."

Darla sighed with relief, thanked her for the report and then turned to Ardon. "We'd better get back to the captain's bridge." They scurried up the ladder stairs.

The standing bridge officer greeted them as they approached just as another call came up from the communications deck. "Colonel, Divulsion reports she and her ships are engaged. They're taking some losses, but givin' 'em hell in return."

Cheers went up across the bridge. The feeling of possible rescue from what only moments ago seemed certain death or capture swept the ship. Many an eye filled with tears at that time. It was in the middle of this joyous tumult that another message was delivered to the bridge. "We have heavy activity to the east. A large formation of unidentified vessels is approaching at cruising speed."

"Can we get a picture on the screen?" Darla called down.

The officer said she'd try. After several anxious minutes passed, the officer returned, smiling, "Operations room says they'll have one up any second."

A picture soon flashed on the screen and, as curious eyes recognized what they saw, a cold, disquieting silence drifted across the room. Darla's heart sank as she studied the monitor. The entire eastern horizon seemed filled with countless blips, each representing a ship of cutter size or larger. When realization finally struck the crew, a collective, mournful sigh arose, sounding like a warrior's breath of defeat when he sees that his wound is mortal.

Darla refused to allow to dismay seize the moment. "Get back to work! This is a ship of war, not some pleasure yacht! Call the engine room and get a status report! Tell the defensive batteries and torpedo rooms to ready for action! I want all departments to report in! Make ready! Shikkeron isn't dead yet and, by God, it's not going out quietly!"

Someone in the fire crew started singing 'Cold Supper' and was soon joined by another and another, until the entire deck reverberated with Jebbson's silly tune. Darla shouted down to the deck officer, "Put this on the overhead! I want the entire ship to hear it!" She called out, "Keep it up, mates! Keep it up!"

A sinister grin broke across Darla's face. She again shouted to the deck officer, "Tell the operations room to open a hailing channel. Those approaching bastards need to hear the voice of their undefeated foe!"

The spirit of one person can spread to the heart of many souls. As Godenn's overpowering fleet closed in, some breaking away to assist Salak's armada, a lone ship, crippled and broken, stood defiantly in its path. Although not realized at the time, it was symbolic of the new and different world Asotos was seeking to destroy. His adversary was changing...had changed. Fire burned anew in the hearts of those he opposed, a fire that could no longer be extinguished by brutish threats and intimidation. He was being put on notice that every victory he gained would come at heavy cost and, should his people retreat, they would be pursued with a wild vengeance.

Darla gave orders to have visuals of the enemy fleet when it came within range. Departments reported in. Torpedo rooms were inoperable except for the one in the bow, and it had only one remaining missile. The damaged hangar deck had retrieved the one surviving fighter, but was unable to refuel or rearm it. Defensive batteries were about the only weapons still on line.

The colonel refused to show any disappointment, keeping a note of good cheer in her voice, telling the deck officer, "Then you tell the forward torpedo room that they have to take the lead to show 'em that we don't go easy!"

Operations room flashed a visual of the enemy fleet on the screen just after the deck officer reported that enemy flankers and pickets were holding back for some unknown reason. Darla looked at the screen and understood why. Working its way up from the rear of the flotilla, a giant dry-dock carrier was advancing toward Shikkeron. Already, its huge belly doors were beginning to open so it could capture Shikkeron with its crew - complete and alive.

Hopelessness filled Darla's heart. She knew well what was to become of her if she were captured. Her mind flashed to the horrid scenes of the massacre at Exothepobole. Any of those captured would receive no less than the victims of that city. She thought of the sergeant and what she had already suffered. No! She wouldn't permit any prisoners to be taken.

"Give me the forward torpedo room! Now!" Darla shouted.

Soon a voice responded over an improvised sound system rigged up on the captain's bridge. "Fore torpedo room reporting."

Above the musical din, Darla shouted, "You have a missile fit to launch?" The answer was affirmative. "Good! Do you have any old thermonuclear static warheads to use?"

There was a pause. "Yes...yes there is, but it's very unstable when activated. And we must activate it before placing it in the torpedo tube. A good solid hit from, say, a hammer or other hard object could set it off."

Darla asked, "Could a closed hatch set if off?"

A somewhat shaken voice replied, "Certainly! If that happened, we'd be nothing but cosmic dust."

Darla clenched her fists in resolve, commanding, "I want you to listen to this and then repeat it back to me. This is a direct order. Arm the missile with your thermonuclear static warhead. After activating the warhead, load the missile in a torpedo tube. Lock down the hatch and set all operating systems to mechanical override. Shut off all power inputs and controls."

The confused officer repeated the order. Darla snapped, "Report to me as soon as you've finished!" The officer acknowledged and signed off.

Ardon asked, "What are we doing, Colonel?"

Darla's reply was grim but defiant. "Do you know how many people I've killed during my life, Major?" Ardon shook his head. Darla answered, "Two hundred and forty two for certain. That's not counting my missions in fighters and bombers. Do you have any idea how many I intend to kill today?"

Ardon responded in surprise, "Today?"

Darla smiled. "Yes, today. You see, there are over two hundred fifty on Shikkeron and another three to four thousand on that big carrier coming at us. I'd say there might be as many as forty-two hundred. You think that's a good number to go out with?"

Ardon was caught up speechless. All he managed was, "Colonel?"

Darla was about to comment when the deck officer shouted, "Engine room says the boiler's building pressure and the starboard engine is warming up. It'll be on line in a few minutes."

Darla calmly replied, "Thank the engine room personnel for all their efforts. Tell them to stand by and await orders." She looked at the screen to see that the dry-dock carrier had cleared the fleet and was advancing along with two flanker ships about frigate class in size.

Wryly speaking to Ardon, Darla confessed, "Well, if we're lucky, today we may get to finish off a few hundred more. Older warships like Shikkeron used to carry thermonuclear static warheads to blast apart asteroids running afoul of the shipping lanes. The custom was stopped after more efficient methods were developed to accomplish the same tasks. New ships no longer were equipped with such devices, but the Navy didn't bother to remove them from most older warships."

She leaned forward and rested her hands on the broken support rail. "You see that big ship? It intends to suck us up into its hold and capture us alive. When it gets close enough, it will send out a series of frequency beams - harmonic missiles, you might say - to disable any remaining defenses. Then it will drift over us and, using some sort of grappling system, draw us into its cavernous hull. Then...well, I think you can figure out the rest."

Darla slapped her hand on the rail. "Well! Those fools don't appreciate one thing! Old ships like this have full mechanical override systems. When we're all tucked away, nice and secure, and those big ol' doors are closed up tight, we just pull the trigger on that little missile in the torpedo room and _'phoom!'_ One gloriously big fireball! It should take out everything within two leagues in either direction. That means I should have a total kill of over five thousand for my last show!"

The torpedo room called the bridge. "We have a go! Locked and sealed! All overrides in place!" By now the officer in charge fully understood what Darla had in mind. "Triggers set to go!"

Darla thanked the officer, telling him to wait on her mark, but then added, "If you lose communication with the bridge because power goes down, if no communication is restored within fifteen minutes, pull the trigger - sooner if someone tries to break in. Understood?"

"Confirmed..." the torpedo room replied. "Triggers on and waiting to go."

"On my mark..." Darla repeated, "On my mark..." She looked back to the screen. "It's about forty leagues out and still slowing...should be over us in about three minutes. When it's just out of battery range, it will hit us with those frequency beams. At that distance, we should still be able to maintain lights and life support systems. They don't want to kill us by knocking out life support, so I doubt they'll hit us with a second blast until we're in the hold." She lowered her head in thought.

During Darla's conversation with Ardon, she had also been fighting with the demon in her mind, taunting it by repeatedly telling it that she was going to die and take it with her. Presently it was quietly cowering in some little corner of her mind. Now, as she waited her final doom, she went in search of the monster, seeking to repay upon it some of the misery she had been plagued with for so long.

Her search was interrupted by the deck officer's shouts. The woman came running toward the bridge. "Colonel! Colonel, we've got a signal from the Third Fleet. They're on the horizon and closing fast! You should be able to see 'em on the navigation scope!"

Darla ordered the navigation scope put on the screen. Opposite the multitude of blips comprising Godenn's ships were dozens of rapidly appearing white dots, with more materializing all the time. Way out in front were three, moving much faster than the others.

The officer shouted, "Those lead ships are coming in behind us! I don't think the enemy's seen 'em yet. Should be here any minute!"

Darla shouted, "Tell the forward torpedo room to hold on my order."

Everyone on the bridge became deathly quiet. Was there still any hope of rescue? Would the rescue really make any difference in determining their fate? They watched, hearts beating in anxious expectation...

* * *

He saw his angel of hope approaching out of the darkness, from the bowels of another time and place. Suddenly his world exploded in a kaleidoscope of dizzying wild colors and enchanting, mesmerizing music. Amid the tumult of all this craziness, the woman-child reappeared as though a beacon of light, shining through a restless storm. A breathtaking, blazing furnace of passion and beauty, the woman drew close, extending a hand, hauntingly calling, "My Euroaquilo..." The man reached out for her but as he did, a dark gray gloominess swept the woman-child from his vision.

Instantly, his world erupted in an explosion of violent, red flames. A hideous, roaring dragon, its head belching smoke and fire, rose from the gloom, hissing, "She is mine! Mine forever!" disgorging a torrent of vile oaths mixed with cackles of fiendish laughter.

A chill wind blew the evil vision away, only to deliver upon Euroaquilo both visions playing simultaneously in his mind. Little could the man do but ponder the moment, waiting upon both visions' outcome. Either was distressing to behold, but both together were terrifying! For what they portended the future to be, it was one Euroaquilo dared not claim to comprehend.

Suddenly, silence - dark, wonderful, silence! Euroaquilo's heart pounded like distant drums of war while he waited for the herald's call. His breathing crashed upon his brain like a raging tempest passing along until it, too, faded from his memory. Like some shadowy beast, the darkness surrounded him, bringing with it an oppressive silence.

A hushed footfall drifted upon Euroaquilo's ears, shattering that silence as a whispering voice, warm as a mother's kiss but cold as the grave, distant as the stars but clear as the peal of a crystal bell called out to him, "The hour is come. It rests in your hands."

"Admiral...."

Euroaquilo's eyes popped open. He turned to see who spoke. It was Captain Lukina, chief officer of Oruomai. Recognizing him, Euroaquilo asked, "Yes, Captain?"

Captain Lukina was a quiet man who rarely revealed his personal feelings. He spoke matter-of-factly, "The entire fleet is gathering behind us, Sir. I have even recalled all scouts and outriders."

Euroaquilo nodded his approval. He stood in the quiet of the main bridge, feet spread and hands clasped behind his back.

Captain Lukina asked, "Do you think it really wise to assemble the entire fleet, Sir? We are abandoning this region to the mercies of the unknown. Should the enemy decide upon mischief, the colonies will be helpless against them."

The admiral closed his eyes. "Captain, do you trust me?"

"Why yes, Sir."

"Captain," Euroaquilo's eyes remained closed, "a thick shadow hides the future from me, but I can see clearly the road on which it leads me. Our enemy is down that road and I am going out to meet it." He opened his eyes. "If I fail today, there will be no reason to fear any mischief. All our sacrifices will have been in vain, for there will be no tomorrow. The fleeting hour is near and I must hurry to capture it."

Captain Lukina took on a stance similar to Euroaquilo's. He was a smaller man, but still impressive in stature. He stared forward, as if watching the busy bridge, finally replying, "As you say, Admiral."

A moment later, Euroaquilo spoke up. "Captain, I want you to remove all non-emergency personnel to the staging areas, including the Marines, fire and damage control, medical and defensive personnel. Load them into the shuttles and scullers and send them off. Leave our fighters with them for protection. The fleet will be along shortly to pick them up."

He began to slowly pace. "Have all the torpedoes activated. Load the forward tubes and rig them for control from the bridge. When the gun crews are finished with their work, send them to the staging areas with the others. Leave only enough pilots on board to fly the sculler escape pods."

Euroaquilo stopped and tipped his head up, hands still behind his back. "If anyone appears nervous or makes request, send them away with the others. What we do will be dangerous and I wish to risk as few as possible. I want none to follow this course against their will. Is that understood?"

The captain calmly replied, "Yes, Sir. May I remain with my ship, Sir?"

The admiral's reply was long in coming. "Yes...if that is your wish."

"Thank you, Sir."

"And one more thing, as soon as the shuttles are off, give us one hundred percent engines. Contact Griffon and Mors and tell them to stick close. I will transmit further orders to them later. And keep our boilers hot, very hot."

"It will be done, Admiral." Captain Lukina dismissed himself to carry out his orders.

Euroaquilo closed his eyes and drew himself back into his visions. When he found himself confronting the dragon, he cried out in defiance, " _You will not win this time, for the Storming Tempest shall bring your dreams to ruin!_ "

* * *

All eyes were fixed on the screen, projecting both a visual of the approaching dry-dock carrier and a grid of all the ships within their immediate vicinity. The carrier was less than twenty leagues' distance, and its giant belly doors now fully opened. The three lead ships from the Third Fleet were only seconds from crossing Shikkeron's helm, and still they had not slowed. Apparently, the carrier had not yet seen them.

Darla was reconsidering her options. Should the carrier manage to capture them within its hold, there would be no help for them. A moment ago, she was certain that was Shikkeron's fate. Now, though, there was a glimmer of hope. If those advancing ships could hold the carrier off for a few minutes, Shikkeron might be able to slip out of range.

"Engine room," Darla shouted into the communication set, "fire up your starboard engine and prepare for full thrusters!"

"Aye! With our compliments!" came an enthusiastic reply.

Darla then hailed the torpedo room. "Open the hatch and prepare to fire your missile at the carrier on my mark!"

The torpedo room acknowledged.

The navigation officer called up to the bridge, "Commander, the fleet's three approaching ships have fired torpedoes! They're passing our hull as I speak!"

Darla's eyes watched the screen to see dozens of missiles leaving corkscrew streamers as they flashed into view. They were spreading out in a wide, general sweep, mainly projected at the distant, waiting enemy fleet. "Strange..." the colonel muttered.

She didn't have time to consider it further when the communications officer piped up, "Message coming in un-coded." The officer's face contorted, displaying a lack of understanding. "Message reads: 'Western Star, do not waste the gift you are given. Leave us now.'"

At that second, Oruomai and its two escorts blasted past Shikkeron, just clearing the crippled ship. The escorts banked away hard - the bark, Griffon, to the left and the brig, Mors, to the right. Oruomai went straight for the carrier.

A brilliant flash of blinding light exploded on the screen and through the portholes of Shikkeron. An instant later, a concussive punch rolled the ship hard to port and twisted it around, sending it spinning lazily away from the enemy fleet.

Darla screeched in despair, "No! No! No!" She clutched her head, falling to her knees, writhing in mournful agony, crying out, "No! You cannot go! You cannot do this to me! I cannot live without you! I will die! I will die! I will..." Clawing at her face, in hopeless desperation, pulling out clumps of her hair, Darla wailed, "Let me die, Mother, please! Let me die! Let me die!"

Crashing to her knees, Darla began thrashing about in uncontrolled seizures, moaning incoherent jabber while reaching up toward a deity only she could see, beseeching its assistance. Ardon watched in horror as the girl frothed at the mouth, chewing her tongue while her head lolled from side to side, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Chunks of debris began violently pummeling Shikkeron's hull. If not for the energy shields, the ship might have been torn apart. As it was, the crew was taking quite a beating. Something needed to be done and soon or the ship might well be destroyed. But what?

Ardon shouted, "The major has the bridge! The major has the bridge! Thrusters full! Thrusters full!" Everyone just stared at him, dumbfounded by what they were seeing and hearing. "Do it now! Ardon screamed, commanding, "Do it now!"

The bridge officer shouted to the engine room, "Full ahead! Give us all you've got!" He then asked, "Where to, Commander? What's our bearing?"

'Where to go...' Ardon had not thought of that. Any place was better, safer than this madhouse they were in. "Q-south!" He shouted, "Give me Q-south!"

The bridge officer ordered the helm to set course for Q-south.

Not waiting for the bridge officer's acknowledgement, Ardon sank down in front of Darla, taking her by the arms as she fell forward. Bloody sweat ran in streaks down the woman's skin, falling like copious showers onto the command bridge. As her breathing became more rapid and shallow, the girl's heart pounded angrily against her chest. Staring wildly from a tormented face, Darla tried to call for help, but only the sounds of raspy breathing came from a contorted mouth.

Looking into Darla's eyes, Ardon could see little more than two bloody, opaque mirrors staring back at him. "Adaya! AdayaDarla! Child! Oh, my child!" he shouted into ears that could no longer hear him.

Darla's body stiffened and her arms flew up, her hands wrapping about the back of Ardon's neck. Holding him as if for dear life, she cried in anguish, all the while coughing and spattering blood in the man's face, "Don...leav...m... Don..t...eave...m..e..."

Darla suddenly jerked away from Ardon, falling back and crashing onto the bridge before the man could grab her.

* * *

The last thing Darla remembered was Ardon's face, his worried smile, and his promise that he would not leave. Then the world around her went gray and she found herself falling into a fathomless void. Down and down the girl plummeted until the darkness turned into blackness and then into nothing.

She awoke in a field of aster blossoms surrounded by a forest of dark evergreens with a view of snow-capped mountains far in the distance. A scent of honeysuckle hung heavy upon the air, stinging the woman's nostrils with overpowering sweetness. The brightness of the late morning sun was almost blinding. Indeed, the overwhelming intensity of this world pummeled her senses with its un-natural glory. Slowly and cautiously, Darla pushed herself back on her knees and warily stood.

Where was this strange place? Where were Shikkeron, its crew, Ardon? Why was she even here? Darla's head throbbed and her memory was foggy. There was a sense of unease and foreboding this mesmerizing landscape couldn't dispel, possibly even contributing to that feeling. Her hand went to her side and she involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. Phulakee still rested peacefully in its scabbard. Somehow, having that weapon along was reassuring. After scrutinizing her surroundings, the woman started off toward the nearby woods.

Darla had not gone far when some movement at the edge of the forest caught her eye. She abruptly halted, hairs going up on the back of her neck for no apparent reason. But she felt it must be an overcautious fear, one borne from too many battles with a treacherous enemy. Then suddenly, out from the darkness of the woods and into the shadows of the trees stepped the man she loved more than life itself.

Darla squealed, "My Euroaquilo!" With arms outstretched, the girl ran toward him. About five paces away from the man, Darla stopped. Euroaquilo had not moved out from the protective forest shade to greet her. He stood tall and distant, grinning, eyes twinkling, beckoning her to come to him. Something was not right.

When Darla did not advance, Euroaquilo spread his arms to offer embrace and sang sweet refrains of endearment. "My child, dearest of all my sisters, oh, how much I have desired your embrace. You do not know how deep the anguish of my heart has been for your love, or how much the longing for your gentle, sweet kiss."

Darla cocked her head as if listening to whispers of similar songs, smooth words from not so long ago. Something was amiss, but what? She casually rested her left hand on the hilt of her sword. Then, with the innocence of a flirting young maiden, she asked, "Why, my Lord, will you not come with me to refresh yourself in the field, where I will sing songs of love to you midst the glorious flowers?"

Euroaquilo frowned. "No, my dear one, let us be away from here!"

Darla acted coy and said nothing.

Euroaquilo became impatient. "What have you to say? Shall we take our leave?"

Darla hesitated and then took another step. She stopped and offered a flirting comment. "The cooing love songs of a dove make a lonely heart flutter with desire..."

Euroaquilo's face beamed with a huge smile, as if having gained some victory.

Darla's tone instantly changed for the next refrain. "And the squawks of a parrot are but the words of his master!" She lunged forward while drawing her sword and, in less than the heartbeat, was sending it crashing down on the skull of this impostor.

In an explosion filled with blinding, red light, Darla was lifted up, thrown back, and sent tumbling to the ground. Coming to her senses quickly, the woman jumped up, preparing to battle, only to see that the world around her had radically changed. She was now standing in the middle of a charred and broken plain. In the distance were angry, black mountains upon which sheets of crimson lightning constantly crashed, sending out quakings of earth-shaking thunders. When the woman's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that a horde of hideous, half-man/half-demon warriors skulked in the surrounding blackness, grotesque beast-men all too familiar and chilling.

From the middle of the pack, a giant, fanged Minotaur with glowing red eyes and two long, curved horns protruding from the sides of its head strode forward. It stopped a few paces away and half grunting, half growling, shouted down to the woman, "Fool! How dare you come into my land unarmed and with none of your guardians to protect you?!" It pointed a threatening, clawed finger. "For all these many days I have observed you, hiding and watching, waiting for this hour...the hour when I had grown to no longer need you. Still, I cared for you and offered you to become my queen, but you rejected me. Now you must die!"

Darla did not cower. She spat back, "You are a shit-worm maggot, bastard child of a warped and twisted mind! The darkness of eternal despair is sweeter than an hour being showered with your choicest gifts!"

The beast cursed an oath in anger, "You shall not die, then! I will give you your wish! As a slave in my house for all time I will make you! Every act of torture and pain I heap upon others I will also give to you! You will do for me my acts of vengeance, while feeling the agony and torment of the victims you destroy! For you, death will be but a wistful passion of unfulfilled desire!"

The demon stretched its arms wide and began to grow in immensity until its head nearly touched the heavens. It reached down and grabbed the startled woman, crushing her in its giant talons. With scathing denunciations, the demon cackled, "See! I am free of your dismal mind, for I have grown beyond your petty thoughts. There are others waiting near, willing to take me into their minds and offer me respite from your cesspool of drivel. One comes close even now! I will drain the power from your spirit to transfer myself over to them, taking your shriveled soul along as my eternal slave!" The monster erupted in gloating, maniacal laughter, sending violent tremors across the landscape.

Another voice shattered the night. Someone shouted up from the darkness to the beast-demon, "You shall not have your way with this child! Release her and go into the endless abyss that even now awaits your father!"

"Who dares to threaten me!?" the beast-man screeched with contempt.

Out of the darkness stepped a cloaked and hooded figure, a radiant glow emanating from under his hood. "I am Phulakee and I, too, have waited these many days for this hour. Now, hand over my daughter and be off into nothingness!"

The demon roared in boastful derision, "Who is _Phulakee_ so that I must listen to his voice?! No warrior sent against me has succeeded. What makes _Phulakee_ think he can best me?"

Phulakee shouted up to the monster, "You have killed yourself and there is no helper for you! By removing your spirit from the child, you have destroyed your own life." He pointed a cloaked arm at the monster and taunted, "The soul of the girl cannot leave her! She cannot become dead in the flesh!"

With uncertainty, the monster cried, "You lie! When I am finished with her, I will destroy you!" It clasped its talons together around Darla and lifted its head high in concentration, attempting to extract the girl's mind from her body. Nothing happened. The demon monster looked down at Phulakee, a glint of discerning fear in its eyes. It tried once more. Still nothing... The import of Phulakee's words gradually began to sink in.

The demon had pulled himself away from the fabric of Darla's mind and now it needed the living power from it to enable a transfer into the mind of a new, willing host. If it didn't succeed soon, its own power would fade, leaving little more than fabric-dust remaining. The monster looked longingly into the girl's mind, its old home. A sealed door now barred any hope of reentry.

Seizing the moment, Phulakee spread his arms and grew in stature until he was standing taller than the demon. Throwing off his cloak, he shouted, "I am the child's Cherub! You are but a poor imitation of my immortal glory! Now be off!"

At that, a sword-like fire shot from Phulakee's hand, cutting the arms from the monster. The Cherub reached out with his other hand and caught the falling child. Then, he plunged that same burning sword through the heart of the beast-man. Piercing cries rent the gloomy darkness as the beast and all its evil hordes exploded into dissolving flames.

At that instant, far across space, Asotos shot upright in his bed, clutching his head in merciless agony, as if part of his brain were being violently burned with an intense fire. For several days, that pain did not leave him.

In another bed, in a room far above the tumult of the Palace City, Mihai awoke from a torrid nightmare of monsters and demons to a feeling of release and reassurance, somehow understanding that her demon within would one day die. Letting out a sigh of anxious relief, her eyes again closed and she fell into a long, death-like sleep.

Phulakee wrapped his arms around Darla and tenderly drew her in close to himself. "There, there, my little one. Sleep for now, until life again returns to your tired body."

Suddenly bolting upright, Darla gasped and fell forward onto Ardon's chest. Catching her in his arms, he watched in helpless dismay as her eyes glazed over and her head fell back. The man let out a choking groan and slumped in despair.

"Is she dead?" Crilen cried. "Is our sister dead?"

Leftenant Ilanit gasped, "It can't be! She must not die!"

Ardon said nothing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he contemplated his loss. Tashi's death broke his heart, now Darla's was breaking his spirit. He needed to do something to take his mind off her passing.

After gently laying her on the floor and telling Crilen to stay near her, Ardon stood and grasped the broken captain's rail. What was he to do? How could he manage? Then he remembered his taking command of the bridge. It was his ship now, and the lives of all those aboard were his responsibility. The crew waited on him to rescue their souls from death. He must not let them down.

Ardon commanded, "Give me status reports!" That would buy him a little time. As the acting bridge officers rattled off information regarding the condition of the ship and crew, the major attempted to figure out what a captain of a warship was really supposed to do. It seemed to him that all the captain did was order somebody to do or find something **,** and then give some brilliant order like 'on my mark' or 'go here' or 'go there'.

'Go there...' Now, that was an excellent idea! But where was 'there'? Ardon puzzled over that question. Then an idea struck him. "Tell Major Garlock to report to the captain's bridge." Well, that was easy. Giving orders wasn't so bad - at least simple ones. Now, where to go? He recalled Oruomai's last transmission. Maybe he could get an answer from it. Ardon asked the communications officer to repeat that last message.

"Yes, Sir!" the officer replied, repeating the transmission. "Western Star, do not waste the gift you are given. Leave us now."

"Do you know what it means?" Ardon queried.

"No, Sir."

This was a dilemma. Ardon was perplexed. "Do any of you know what this message means?"

No one replied. There were just heads shaking.

Almost pleading, Ardon asked, "Can anyone tell me what 'Western Star' is? Is it another ship, a person? Have you ever heard the term used before?"

The acting communications officer stood up. "Yes, Major," the woman answered, "twice to my knowledge - once by the colonel there."

Ardon glanced over at Darla and then back to the petty officer. "When? When did she use those words?"

"Tonight, Sir, just after she ordered the ship around." She leaned over a message log. "The colonel sent a coded transmission to the fleet, saying, 'The Western Star has fallen into shadows.'" The petty officer looked up at Ardon. "And right after the MoonDust incident, I was at my station when Oruomai replied to a message the colonel sent to Fleet that went something like, 'The Western Star should sail home.'"

Jebbson arrived just as the woman was informing Ardon of these events. He groaned in sadness at seeing Darla lying on the bloodied floor. But Major Garlock was a hardened veteran when it came to war, and now was the time to act like one. He politely listened to the conversation between Ardon and the petty officer before announcing his presence.

Ardon was relieved to see the major. Understanding the man's affection for Darla, he was sure Jebbson wondered about the woman. After a quick explanation, he concluded, "I am bewildered. My mind says the girl is dead, for I could find no signs of life within her, and that torments my soul with deep sadness. But my heart feels that she lives."

Jebbson could see the tearful restraint in Ardon's eyes. "May your heart prove the victor this day, Captain. But are we sure that we have secured a tomorrow?"

Ardon frowned and, in a whisper, replied, "You are an officer and an experienced leader. I am a chatterer of childish prattle, and someone who thinks valor is comprised of smooth words and winsome speech." He glanced at Darla, his words filled with remorse. "I have violated the maiden to vainly display the glory of my manhood."

Jebbson whispered back, "An honest man can act a fool. All men will, at times, act as fools. A stupid man, though, is a fool. Major Ardon, you are not a stupid man." He reached up and squeezed Ardon's arm. "And now for the business at hand. Tomorrow we will weep our losses. Today we secure that hour for mourning. How may I help you?"

Ardon nodded, still whispering, "As you are aware, the ship is badly damage. In a moment of emergency, I took the bridge. I know nothing about being a captain, but there is no senior bridge officer remaining above a leftenant midshipman ( _petty officer by rank_ ) to hand control over to."

Jebbson whispered, patting Ardon's arm, "Confidence, sir. Confidence and leadership, that's what makes a captain. A captain of a ship is like a god to the crew. They look to their leader to rescue them from destruction and provide guidance. They will not question any order given if they believe it is done with purpose, mind you, even a purpose unexplained. And should the captain order their death and that of their ship, they will trust it is for a good cause and will accept such a fate, and even assist in accomplishing it."

Jebbson stared into Ardon's face. "Captain, it is your responsibility to make the final decisions. All here will assist you in attaining to them. But you must be firm when your choice is stated. Do not vacillate in your decision-making! That is very un-captain-like." He then offered a highly visible salute to Ardon, signaling the crew of his acceptance of Ardon being the ship's captain. He backed it up in a loud, audible fashion. "Major Garlock of the king's council and liaison to Army Command at your service." In a more subdued voice, he asked, "How may I assist you?"

Ardon was unsure as to what to do, but well understood the weight of his new responsibilities. "I am searching for the meaning of Oruomai's transmission to Shikkeron." He repeated it and mentioned the two previous times the term 'Western Star' had been used. "I am in hopes of finding out its meaning, thinking it may provide guidance as to what I should do."

Jebbson thought a moment, glancing at Darla from time to time. Suddenly, snapping his fingers with excitement, he asked, "The ship that Adaya traveled on to the prisoner exchange was named 'DusmeAstron'. Doesn't that mean 'Western Star'?"

"Why, yes, it does," Ardon confirmed, nodding. "But I do not believe DusmeAstron is part of the Third Fleet."

Shaking his finger, Jebbson exclaimed, "Euroaquilo commanded the DusmeAstron for that journey. As I understand it, that was why Darla - Adaya remained aboard, instead of on Shikkeron with Lowenah. Also, rumor has it that the name was newly painted on ship's hull, just the day before we left for the exchange." Jebbson pointed at Darla. "I believe _she_ is the 'Western Star' that you search for."

Ardon pulled on his beard in thought while mumbling, "'Western Star, do not waste the gift you are given. Leave us now'." Suddenly, his face lit up. "It might be the child's name of celebration! She was gifted to Euroaquilo at her coming of age. He must've named her 'DusmeAstron', a name known only to the two." Ardon puzzled. Euroaquilo was telling Darla to leave, but she was aboard Shikkeron. That must mean the admiral wanted the ship to leave - but leave them, the fleet?

Ardon paused in thought. Had he been a real Navy officer, he might have made a different decision and sought the safety of the Third Fleet, but his knowledge and experience led him down a different path. Gripping the broken captain's rail, he closed his eyes and, concentrating on something he saw in his mind, ordered, "Give me eight degrees starboard and nose up three. Keep engines at maximum."

* * *

Salak did not give up on Shikkeron after the dry-dock carrier had been destroyed. The third fleet's fighters and heavies kept him busy for awhile, but when opportunity afforded, his brig and two remaining cutters slipped away in pursuit of his prey.

"Major! Three bogies abaft and closing!"

Ardon was at a total loss as to what to do. Looking at Jebbson, desperation growing in his voice, he quietly asked, "Now what?"

"What was your plan before we were interrupted?" Jebbson nonchalantly inquired.

"I was making for one of the Nebulan Cloud Bank's tributaries." Ardon stated, adding, "It's about half an hour from here at our current speed."

"Maybe you should find out when the bogies will reach us, then." Jebbson suggested all so casually.

When asked, the navigation officer reported, "At their current speed, we have fifteen minutes before they are in torpedo range." She added, "One of those ships is making distance on the other two. It will be within missile range sooner, maybe twelve minutes."

Ardon looked dismayed. Jebbson smiled grimly, "Well, Captain, it looks like we have few choices. We can't go faster, and the fleet's too far away by now to help. We'll have to solve our own dilemma this time."

"They want the colonel," Ardon replied. "So I think they will seek our capture. That means we might have a chance if we force them to attempt a boarding." He thought a moment longer. "And if that fails, we can set off that thermo-whatever torpedo, and take everything out."

Jebbson's voice filled with excitement. "You still have a working torpedo on this ship?!"

The communications officer interrupted, "Captain, the lead ship chasing us is hailing us by name!"

Whatever Ardon meant to say did not come out as intended, the man shouting, "Put it on the overhead!"

The remainder of the radio interchange between the two ships was heard throughout Shikkeron.

"Shikkeron, this is General Salak. You have no hope of escape. Surrender and I will preserve you alive."

Ardon blurted out, "Who can trust the killer of prophets and purveyor of evil?"

A voice filled with pleasant surprise replied, "Ardon, my brother, since when have you been chancellor of a warship? Are Bedan and all his little warriors so busy that they have placed you on the bridge? And what of the little 'bitch-girl'? I thought she out-ranked you. Or did you commandeer a mutiny of sorts?"

Ardon's lips quivered in anger and uncertainty as he boldly replied, "The Therioskotia sleeps for the moment, saving her strength for your meeting. Your doom awaits you should you attempt our capture."

Silence broke into loud, boastful laughter. "Do you think me afraid of wild myths of fantasy told by shrunken minds in hidden caves? Save your threats for the Stasis fools who worship their own excrement! Surrender now, brother, or die!"

Jebbson leaned close to Ardon's ear. "Why does he keep calling you 'brother'?"

Ardon whispered back, "True, we are all siblings. But Salak is my twin **,** me being firstborn. His jealousy over my supposed favors as the older one grew into hatred after the Rebellion. We have not spoken since Asotos attempted to murder me outside the palace wall over five millennia ago."

Jebbson shook his head and muttered, "Family feud..."

Salak interrupted, "What has happened? Has the tongue of the windy one ceased to function? Surrender now or experience the fate of Exothepobole!"

Ardon's head snapped around. "Exothepobole!? You!?"

Salak laughed, "Didn't you get my note? Pity...I left it with your girl friend. What's her name? Oh, yes, of course...Tashi. She was quite fun to be with, you know. The girl makes a lot of noise when you're working her right."

Ardon's face flushed red as he raged, "You bastard! _Rot-ten e-vil slime of a bas-tard!_ "

Jebbson's hand flew out to Ardon's arm, gripping it tight, cutting him off. He warned, whispering, "No! That's what he wants from you! Anger will not bring back the dead or undo the pain your girl suffered. You're captain of this ship and your first responsibility is to your crew. Damn your own feelings!"

Tears streamed down Ardon's face as he listened to Jebbson and calmed himself. Finally, in dismay, he asked, "What should I do, Major? What should I do? All we have left is the bow torpedo Colonel Adaya planned to destroy the carrier with. That and a few defense batteries are all that's left."

Jebbson looked down at the floor in thought. Eventually, he asked, "What kind of a torpedo did you say we have?"

Ardon answered, "A thermo... thermo..."

"A thermonuclear static torpedo, Sir," the navigation officer interjected. "And we do have a working delivery system in the bow torpedo room."

Jebbson lifted an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you guys pack that kind of hardware on these things! You can punch a pretty big hole in something with that!"

Ardon agreed. "The colonel said it would take out anything within two leagues of impact."

Nodding, Jebbson said to himself, "Six miles, huh? We wouldn't even have to get close..."

He suggested Ardon ask the torpedo room about its status and condition. News wasn't encouraging. When Darla ordered mechanical overrides, the automatic systems were shut down. It would take twenty minutes to reactivate them. The torpedo was armed to detonate only on contact with another object. After firing it, the torpedo room would have to control its course and speed, and that from close range.

Ardon's heart sank. For a brief second there had been a glimmer of hope, but now he let out a resigned sigh. "Well, we could use it to blow up Shikkeron."

Jebbson questioned, "Are you willing to do that?"

Ardon nodded. "Yes, if I have to...to keep Adaya out of Salak's hands."

Just then, Salak's voice came in on the overhead. He was angry, spewing out more threats, demanding they surrender.

Jebbson grinned, "How's about we take out that loud mouth when we do it?"

Surprised, Ardon asked if that were possible. Jebbson grinned and whispered to Ardon what he had in mind. Ardon listened carefully and, when Jebbson finished, excitedly responded, "We'll do it! We'll do it!"

Ardon stood stolid, his face taking on a look of determination as his knuckles whitened from squeezing the captain's rail. He called to the crew, "This is your captain speaking! We have escaped many dangers today. Already, several of our companions have paid the supreme price for our freedom. Still, I ask you one more time to make a sacrifice. The power rests in our hands to bring to justice the Butcher of Exothepobole. Shall we allow his escape or avenge our fallen comrades?"

The resounding clamor gave convincing proof that Shikkeron's crew was willing to risk all to exact a toll upon the murderer of their brothers and sisters. Ardon shouted **,** "Bring us round! We have unfinished business!"

* * *

The bridge officer cried out to Salak, "They're turning about, Sir, coming straight at us!"

Salak studied the viewing screen and then scoffed, "The fool's tryin' to scare us. Well, we don't scare! Open communications." Salak transmitted his message. "So, have you chosen surrender or must I incinerate your hull with my torpedoes?"

A moment later, he heard Ardon's reply. "You have chosen your own day of death, for your gods flee from before us!"

Salak laughed derisively, "Prepare to die then, brother. Or do you intend to abandon the crew to their fate as you make escape?"

Ardon defiantly retorted with a declaration that was in part due to Jebbson's suggestion, "You cannot destroy the Phoenix, ghost ship of the Therioskotia, Queen of the Darkness and of the Blood! Prepare to meet your doom!"

The bridge officer's face filled with fear. Salak angrily waved him off. "Fool! You're not becoming like those empty-headed Stasis, too, are you?"

He shouted to the fire command officer, "Tell larboard and starboard torpedo rooms to prepare shrapnel missiles! No big stuff! When Shikkeron swerves, let 'em have it! I don't want 'em dead, ya hear! I don't want 'em dead! Go light on the dose!"

"One minute to impact, Sir!" The navigation officer couldn't hide the nervousness in his report. "Shikkeron's making no sign of turning."

Salak again scoffed, "My brother is slow of wit! He will wait too long. That will bring him right into our sights."

All eyes were now glued to the overhead screen.

"Thirty seconds to collision!" Suddenly the trepidation in the officer's voice turned to relief. "Shikkeron is turning aside! It's turning aside! Should clear us at about six kilometers."

Salak scoffed, "The fool's put himself right in our lap! Right in our lap! Prepare to fire torpedoes!"

Suddenly the navigation officer shouted, "We have incoming! We have incoming!"

Salak turned back to the screen, staring in total disbelief. As Shikkeron cleared his view, he could see a tiny black dot remain, and it continued to grow in size. And then he heard Ardon's triumphantly proclaim, _"The Phoenix cannot die!"_

Shikkeron was just over six miles away when its missile tore apart Salak's ship. The concussion shook up Shikkeron, but the old brigantine held together. Jebbson then recommended that Ardon point Shikkeron at Salak's two remaining cutters, feigning an attack. After seeing their command ship consumed in a cloud of blinding fire and hearing Ardon's threats about the undying Phoenix, it took little more convincing to have the cutters make a hasty retreat.

Shikkeron turned, limping for the Nebulan Cloud Bank tributary and soon disappeared off the radar scopes. Once in the channel, Ardon had no choice other than follow the river to its end, the ship being too badly damaged to attempt an exit. There could be no communication with the fleet until it left the far distant Nebulan Sea.

A thorough search revealed little other than the wreckage from Shikkeron's port igniter and boiler rooms along with the bodies of the four crew members swept from the ship. Two of Shikkeron's five pilots escaped their stricken fighters and survived. The other three were never found. Lowenah's children eventually concluded that Shikkeron had blown up with Salak's ship, but news from the two enemy cutters was of a far different sort. From their stories grew the legend of the ghost ship, Shikkeron, and its captain, the Therioskotia – a legend that would one day come back to haunt Asotos' world.

(Author's note: _The fighting that raged while Shikkeron slipped away became known as the 'Battle of Ekdikesis ChorionLupe' - 'Exothepobole's Revenge'. It lasted for the better parts of two days and did not end until Godenn's fleet was forced out of the Trizentine and far beyond the Frontier. Both sides suffered heavy losses, the outnumbered Third Fleet becoming the victor primarily because of Godenn's fear of being killed or captured._

_This battle sounded the death knell for the Stasis as a formidable fighting tool in the hands of Asotos. What little remained of Salak's pirate force was_ _eventually hunted down_ _by the growing numbers of Sarah's 'WolfPack Marauders' as her Special Forces came to be known. The confederacy Salak had managed to weld among the Stasis soon disintegrated into individual colonies vying for each one's own self-preservation. Those who did not escape into Asotos' lair were_ _pursued_ _and destroyed._

Godenn's fleet failed in its mission and was driven from the Trizentine. It would be months before it could muster enough strength to risk another assault on the Empire. The ferociousness displayed by Euroaquilo's fighters and warships taught Godenn a painful lesson...one he never forgot. When his armada again advanced into enemy territory, he remained overly cautious and careful, depriving Asotos of his desire for a lightning strike against the Trizentine and the Empire's inner territories. Because of this, the capture of the Kalahnit Straits remained little more for him than a wistful dream.

But the victory gained by the Third Fleet consigned it to an ignominious fate. The loss in men and ships - especially fighters and heavies - crippled it. Besides Oruomai, the fleet lost two cruisers, four frigates, two brigantines, one bark, twelve cutters, seventeen heavy bombers, and sixty-seven fighters. This was nearly a third of the fleet's total fighting strength. The death toll amounted to better than twenty-eight hundred, including the two hundred fourteen who remained with Euroaquilo when he rammed the dry-dock carrier.

_When battle damage and injuries were added to this number, the Third Fleet was down to less than half its strength, and most of its frontline ships were lost. It was decided to place the fleet's remaining ships under the direction of Admiral_ _StarKoffagus_ _, commander of the Second Fleet. Some warships were dispersed to other duties. Those that remained, primarily to support the carrier Admiral Lonche, were now called the 'Second Battle Group'._

For seven hundred years, the Third Fleet had protected the Frontier. Now it was but a memory. Still, in its last hour of fiery glory, it saved Darla from capture. And, as Euroaquilo had stated, that was 'a price worth paying'...

* * *

Ardon and Jebbson rested on the bridge. Shikkeron was now secure from prying eyes and the crew could busy themselves attending to much needed tasks. Darla had been taken to her cabin. There orderlies would carefully clean her body for burial then condition her skin with balsam oil.

After a long silence, Jebbson spoke up. "So, Major, do we ride the river to the sea for the next million years or so, or do you have another plan?"

Jebbson's mildly sarcastic question made Ardon smile. "No, Mr. Garlock, I think it would be a waste to do such a thing. After all, we are at war now, or soon will be. I sure would hate to miss it. Now, if you will be so good as to help me, I think we can expedite our traveling time. Will you keep a secret?"

Jebbson assured him so.

Ardon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked like a tuning fork. It was a tuning fork of sorts. He handed it to Jebbson. "Here. Now take this to the engine room. Adjust the engine's thrusting pulse until you hear the tuning fork humming at a constant pitch. That will speed us up exponentially and, as long as we stay with the flow of the river, we need not fear any collisions. If you choose to slow down, adjust the engine thrusters a little out of harmony with the fork. When the fork stops vibrating, you will be back under direct ship power. Simple enough, eh?"

Jebbson looked at the tuning fork and nodded. "Even an old hillbilly like me should figure this out."

"Good!" Ardon grinned at Jebbson's silly words. "Now keep it secret. Tell no one. We should make the Nebulan Sea in about two weeks this way. We'll decide what to do next, after we get there."

The two men were suddenly distracted by the sounds of rapid footfall coming toward them. They looked up to see an excited orderly rushing through the hatch and up to the edge of the captain's bridge. Near breathless, he panted, "I felt it! I felt her heart beat! The colonel's heart beat!"

* * *

### SECTION FIFTEEN:

So Doth the Kriggerman Cry

(Author's note: _If the murder of Exothepobole had sounded the death knell for Asotos' kingdom, his navy's insurgence into the Trizentine and revelations regarding Salak and the Stasis confederacy sealed its doom. Eventually, reasons for the attack on Shikkeron were revealed. When it was understood that Asotos had attempted the capture of Darla to extract her demon in hopes of replicating it to enslave others, all debate ended. Anyone who loved freedom realized that to die resisting this rebel was far better than to live under his yoke of madness._

_Of course, Asotos ranted on about all the 'lies and injustices' committed against his people, demanding reparations for the 'wanton attack' on his delegation of emissaries seeking the extradition of the Stasis perpetrators of the Exothepobole holocaust. He claimed the 'murder' of his chief officer, Salak, and subsequent 'ambush' on his fleet while it was trying to assist a crippled ship in deep space, were 'grounds for war'. Unless due compensation was immediately provided and those responsible for this debacle brought to justice, he would be forced to consider military means to satisfy the 'wrongs committed against innocent people'._ )

Mihai carefully read over a copy of Asotos' pronouncement that he had made public. Lowenah's children now anxiously waited to hear their new king's reply. She well knew that the real reason for Asotos' ranting was to stall for time. He was not yet fully prepared to pounce on his enemy. Many of his forces were not in place and his logistical arrangements were not finished. His intent was to open a dialogue, declaring his desire to find a peaceful solution. Then, when everything was set, he would unleash his armies in one massive blitzkrieg in hopes of quickly overwhelming his enemy. The new king thought of the countless times he had played this same game before.

As Mihai walked toward the presentation chambers to address her people, Anna hurried along by her side. "My Lord, news is that our brother has offered to sit down and talk over his grievances. He may even be willing to admit some fault in this misunderstanding. It can buy us a little more time...time to increase our military strength and offset our severe losses in the Third Fleet."

Mihai stopped and gently grasped Anna's forearm. "I have reviewed all these things, my sister. I am grateful for your insight and appreciate your concern. At the moment, I must talk to our people about the situation at hand. I have already prepared my speech. When I am finished, if you wish to address any concerns, I will be happy to do so." She turned and hurried off.

A deathlike hush filled the room when Mihai entered. Communications crews were present, ready to transmit Mihai's response to Asotos' accusations. Throughout the Empire, people waited with bated breath to hear what their king was about to say. In his lair, far away, Asotos sat with some immediate lieutenants, a smirk of confidence on his face in anticipation of what he expected from Mihai. Yes, the inhabitants of that universe waited on the words of one woman in whose hands rested the power to sue for peace or plunge everyone into total war.

Mihai kindly acknowledged those present and then began her address.

"In the fourth month of this year, on the seventh day of this month, the Third Fleet intercepted a combined Stasis and Pseudes contingent operating within our territories in the Trizentine. Their apparent purpose was the capture of the imperial brigantine, Shikkeron, and its crew. Further evidence reveals that a contingent of Pseudes naval ships under the command of General Salak and with direct orders from General Godenn had formed a confederation in league with the Stasis Pirates. It was this combined flotilla that swooped down on our brothers and sisters at Exothepobole, slaughtering the innocents after a day of vicious rape and torture.

"While it is true to say that Shikkeron opened the engagement offensively, according to the armistice agreed upon after the Great War, they were acting well within the legal confines of that treaty, for it states: 'If any vessel of said domain ( _Asotos' kingdom_ ) being possessed, allied to or under direction of any military, civil servant, conscript, representative or ally should, for any reason, without official permission of the Children's Empire **,** enter territorial space of said Empire, it will be deemed an aggressory act. Such an act, of itself, may be considered a hostile intrusion into the Empire and be dealt with accordingly.'

"Shikkeron's first response against said aggressors was in line with the policy contained in this armistice compact, which was agreed upon and signed by both leaders of the opposing forces, ceasing the hostilities of the Great War! The subsequent loss of life and destruction of property is solely the responsibility of the aggressor nation, that being the 'League of Brothers' under the dictatorship of Asotos Iskeriughe, the Riotous Mouth, the WastePipe, traitor to all lovers of life and freedom!

"With heavy losses, our brothers and sisters beat back a savage attack by the invading fleet, commanded by none other than General Godenn, under direct orders from Asotos' chief lieutenant, Commander General Legion. Evidence has been procured from the battle scene proving that General Godenn's leading officer, General Salak, carried out the attack on Shikkeron and was at, if not in charge of the murder of Exothepobole." Mihai held up a picture of a grotesque helmet with the remains of a head inside. "Tests prove that these are the remains of General Salak. They were found near the site where he and Shikkeron were last engaged."

Mihai set the picture down and rested her hands on the lectern. "There are no eyewitness accounts of the final moments of the engagement between Shikkeron and Salak's ship, only the communication signals received. It appears that Major Ardon had the helm. In his last transmission, he boldly declared to General Salak, in referring to Shikkeron, ' _The Phoenix cannot die_ _!_ ' The fate of Shikkeron is still uncertain. May it live up to the name the major gave it and return to us from the fires of combat..." There was a pause as Mihai wiped tears from her eyes.

The king became resolute, her message hard and clear. "We will not allow our cities to be burned, or our people raped and murdered while ambivalently listening to empty words that are vomited from the mouth of a Serpent and Liar! We will no longer stand back and permit our adversary to taunt us day and night, telling us we are weak and simple-minded! The hour has come! For too long we have hidden from reality, fearing the loss of our past should we attempt to find our future. No more! A spark has ignited our universe and set it ablaze. And that blaze has burned away the world that used to be. From those ashes has grown a force that will crush The League of Brothers and drive it from our Realm! The decision has been made! _Today we go to war!_ "

She raised a clenched fist high, defiantly shouting, " _Phoenix rises!!!_ "

* * *

The previous evening's storm had retreated, leaving behind crystal-white snowdrifts as evidence of the earlier tempest. By late morning, the last clouds had fled east, leaving the rich, deep-blue sky a playground for the blazing sun. Far below, two women trudged through a frozen wonderland, shading their eyes with ungloved hands to fend off the sparkling brightness of the dazzling snow.

After some time, the two crested a low summit and stopped to look down on the sights. Off to the east, some six leagues away, snuggled Palace City, appearing like little more than a glittering speck in an ocean of white. To the west lay an endless forest, orchards of ancient fruit trees peacefully sleeping, roots tucked away deep beneath the frosty soil. Beyond them stood ash and hickory with a mix of elm, basswood, beech and ironwoods, further away the proud oak - the red, white and many cousins. Far off in the distance loomed the beginning of a great evergreen forest it is said at that time stretched six hundred leagues to the sea, unbroken and rarely traveled.

EdenEsonbar, home to Palace City, was the birthplace of Lowenah's children, yet it was a sparsely populated planet. Though often visited, few chose to nest in the fields of their birth, being too filled with wanderlust for exploring their ever-expanding universe. At the time the two women stood on the hill, taking in the world around them, fewer than ten million of Lowenah's little ones had chosen to dwell there.

One woman let out a satisfied sigh and looked up to her much taller companion. "My dear Tolohe, you have filled my heart with joy to journey to this place with me today."

Tolohe's face broke into a huge smile. She thanked her and replied, "Meter, should I choose for myself this day, I would never leave you, but stay here for all eternity." She sadly shook her head. "That is not the fate I have...nor is it one any of your children can lay claim to. The hour is come and we all must gather to the battle. Is it in this place that we shall finally find our rest or is there any real hope for future days of peace?"

Lowenah shook her head sadly, still looking at her daughter. "A butterfly does not gain its true beauty until it first dies to its former self." She waved her arm east, toward the Silent Tombs. "As my children sleep, they change, and what they will become is yet hidden from them. For mortals can only behold the world through eyes of flesh, and they can only understand the world through interpretations with their minds."

Taking Tolohe's hand, she continued, "My child, the mortal flesh is but a vision of reality, a window to view reality from. All my loyal children who rest here will one day not just view that reality, but be part of it."

Her eyes sparkled and a smile grew afresh on her face. "The demon has passed along. Our girl is free of it. We come that much closer to success. The journey my children must now take is dark and perilous, but no longer without hope."

Tolohe's face lit up. "Is my sister alive, or do you speak of her as she rests in the Field of the Minds, for my people have found no trace of Shikkeron. We know not of its fate."

Lowenah grinned, a twinkle in her eye, "Dream shares with Ardon in later days might have revealed secrets that would serve you in this hour of need. But not to worry, he will return. Seek him out then."

Tolohe stood silent, bewildered by Lowenah's riddle.

Lowenah scanned their immediate surroundings. Already her Cherub servants had been busy chopping down the orchards, preparing for the valiant slain, the stumps of fallen trees serving as tiny windbreaks, creating hundreds of hard-packed, snowy drifts. As she studied the southern valleys, she explained the reason for this wintertime visit. "I wished for you to see what will become the center mount of a new city yet to come."

Tolohe looked around and frowned. "Meter, it is so close to Palace City. Should it be this near?"

Lowenah squeezed her daughter's hand. "Silly! Of all my children I thought you'd understand." She swept her arm in a wide arc. "Before your time comes to its end, this entire land will be filled with the mounds of my loyal ones. In future days, when your children and the children of your children journey here to asked why wickedness was so bad, you shall bring them to this city and explain the reasons. And they will learn why this all came to pass."

Tolohe was stunned. "I shall have...?"

Lowenah interrupted, "Children! Lots and lots of children! The fruitage of your belly shall surpass the number born from me, and your breasts will suckle a multitude of nations. Without number will the descendants of my daughter become, even greater than all the stars in the sky."

Tolohe shook her head in wonder. "How can that be?"

Lowenah laughed and poked her daughter's belly. "Now you speak like the senseless women of the Realms Beneath. 'How can that be? How can that be?' Have you not ached with desire to carry within your own body a living being, one made from your very flesh? Do you think it was by accident I made you the way you are? Do you think I gave you milk to only nurse my children? Look, with a man, Shiloh, when he arrives in his glory, will you form a covenant and become pregnant, the first fruits of your fullness in the flesh from your many lovers. Until the universe can no longer hold the numbers, my daughters will bear the children for me."

Lowering her head, Lowenah became sad. "I made your brother to be father to all living things, the fire of life igniting first in his loins. The day was soon in its coming when I would have given him your youngest sister as a new creation, she being able to bear seed and produce offspring. She was to lead the way, the youngest first, to keep my other daughters humble in respect to age and glory." She looked into Tolohe's face. "That's why I gifted my creation of the Second Realm first with the ability to make offspring, to help teach my children here to be humble and not think too much of themselves."

She gripped Tolohe's hand with both hers and scanned the surroundings. "I have now chosen another child to be the first among my daughters to become fruitful. She has come from the Realms Below and will stand next to the king, being second in power in all my kingdom." Then looking into Tolohe's eyes, her own tearing up, "And you shall conceive fruitage following her, second among my daughters. You will also stand beside Shiloh, third in power and glory in all my realms. But for you, twins will struggle within you and you will mourn as though in death because of their struggles." She would say no more of the matter.

Leading the way, Lowenah began a descent toward the yet uncut ancient orchards near the base of the hill, chatting about more mundane matters. In course of conversation, she echoed her feelings about wishing for Tolohe to stay by her side.

Tolohe stopped, her smoky-gray eyes staring down into her mother's emerald green oceans of love. "Should you but ask, my dear sweet one, I will delay my departure forever."

With tears in her eyes, Lowenah softly replied, "No. No, my cherished one, you cannot do such a thing. Michael is a strong-willed child and she will make an effort to lead the coming battles. It must not happen. A demon still resides within her mind and I fear your brother will seek it. Your sister must be kept safe, and only you have the power to stop her. You must leave me."

"I will do as you say, Meter." Tolohe hung her head in sadness, then attempting to lighten the moment, suggested, "My ship leaves with me at the rising of the evening star on the morrow. Should your heart desire company until that time, mine would find its delight to be the one sharing it."

Lowenah giggled, "Why do you think we have journeyed so far this day? I have secrets in the distant woods that only my soul knows of. Would you like to see some of them for yourself?"

With that the two hurried on toward the imposing, nearly impenetrable evergreen forest to share secrets hidden within.

* * *

