Copani Story

At the beginning of their fourth and final term at CPI they had a class in Satellite Communications and Observation. The assignment was to prepare a report, with visuals, on the various uses and possible misuses of the technology. Zak and Mos, not ones to do anything in the manner of anyone else, hacked into the Government Satellite Control Network and began to “spy” on various places around the city.

“Try the party district Mos, remember the bizarre things we saw when we went there?”

This continued on for several days, until they happened to move the spy eye to the Denak Embassy. The Denak system was a member of the Copani Planetary Alliance. The CPA members are guaranteed immunity to spysat observation and complete privacy within the walls of their Embassies.

The Denak Embassy was well known for it’s rather bawdy parties; in fact Zak had lost his virginity at one he had been invited to in his second term. Shortly after they had begun their final night of data gathering prior to the project being due, they homed in on the Denak Embassy and the party going on. They were having a delightful time and fully planned to erase the entries and finish their data collection after a brief interlude there.

As they scanned the crowd Zak recognized several people, people he had known when he lived at home. Unknown to them, after accidentally activating the audio link, they picked up a conversation being held inside one of the large rooms off the central hall. Mos saw two pretty Copani females moving up the stairs with two Copani ranking officers; from their insignia they were both Boro’Dcons, and members of the Alliance Secret Service. Following them into a room on the second floor, they watched as the four Copani began to play and Mos looked over and made sure the data recorders were still recording.

The two young Copani watched in delight as the women and men stripped down and danced, preened and then had sex, all the while talking to each other. They noticed that the two officers were doing the most talking, bragging about something. Finally they grew tired of the show and returned to their data gathering for the project.

They spent the next few nights preparing their project presentation and on the final day before the exams break, they made their presentation. It began with Mos, the better speaker of the two, presenting their report with visuals. Near the end of the presentation there was a sudden blast of sound and then a conversation.

“There is no need to announce or warn in advance, the explosions will occur in several diverse locations. We announce after.”

“How much explosive has been placed around the Citadel?”

“Enough to rid the Alliance of that moj’ae of a King and his Queen. Then his son will be removed as well.”

The visuals moved then to the bedroom and the party. As the first pictures began and the question and answers between the foursome began the show stopped, the lights came up, and members of the Copani Royal Guard invaded the room. A tall officer strode up to the front of the classroom and removed the crystal and ordered the two boys to come with him.

“Do you know who I am Boro’Mcon?”

“Yes, I do know who you are, Second Prince. Now, come with me or I shall have to have you restrained and brought out in restraints.”

Zak and Mos looked at each and turned and walked out. Looking around the room, the Boro’Mcon spotted two Denakians seated and looking around. The officer nodded towards them and the too were escorted out, protesting their innocence although no one had said anything.

“DO YOU TWO KNOW WHAT YOU DID?” The King screamed at them, “You managed to break almost every diplomatic protocol we have. You invaded the Denak Embassy, spied on them, and then showed your results to your entire class. If you had not uncovered the plot to assassinate your Mother and myself, and many others you would be in jail. As it is you uncovered a plot to kill us. By the way, the two officers have been placed in isolation pending the investigation.”

The King paused to take a drink from his glass. “You two are being placed in restricted accommodations. You will not see or speak to each other, your classes together will cease and you will be reassigned to separate individual housing. This will stay in effect until graduation. One of the Royal Guard’s will be with you constantly Zak, to enforce the conditions I have given. Any questions?”

“No Your Highness” they said in unison.

As they turned to leave a burly male, in Royal Guard uniform, fell into step with Zak. “Nice day for a Royal Reaming, huh?” The guard’s expression did not change and he said, “We had better go your highness.”
 
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The Appian-Auroran Border Territory 20 years before the present time...

“Do you really think you can synthesize a cure for this plague?” Surl-Than, the Appian liaison officer assigned to the Sonjon Glory, asked Doc with more than a trace of doubt in his tone. I was rather pleased with myself for finally beginning to get a feel for the Appian mannerism.

“Oh yes…yes. I will need to run some simulations on the medlab computer first but I have a feeling everything will workout exactly as I am picturing it…” Doc’s eyes moved as if scanning the display screen he was imagining and he chuckled quietly with exicitement. Doc looked like the stereotype of the mad scientist – not the angry-mad scientist, but the crazy-mad scientist. What hair he had stuck out from his head as if he had been playing with electricity and his eyes were so intense they almost seemed to still contain some of that electricity. He may have been somewhat mad, I had seen how he decorated his quarters, but he was the most brilliant doctor in the Fleet. If he were not a Draksan he would have held a place on the Imperial Medical Research Station orbiting the capitol.

Our shuttle jostled slightly as we lifted off from the surface of the Appian world. A mysterious plague had suddenly appeared on a relatively isolated continent. The plague seemed to affect everything from crops to the Appian farmers who tended them. When we had entered orbit to resupply the Glory the planetary governor had requested medical assistance to help deal with the growing plague. Captain J’Fal, contrary to Naval Regulation and the treaty the Empire had with the All Planet Alliance had refused. I scheduled a spot health and safety inspection of the small starport on the infected continent and went down with the doctor and Surl-Than. I mentioned to Surl-Than that we would naturally conduct medical examinations on any starport employees who were ill.

I was not surprised to find the starport was exceptionally well manned when we arrived. Since we were on a routine inspection, however, Doc could legally only bring a light med kit. Genius that he was, even with the limited equipment at his disposal he was able to isolate the pathogen in the Appian starport “personnel” and he then went off on his own for a time to try and track down any possible variations of the pathogen. I thought it odd he felt there would be such variations, but he ran off muttering to himself about lab signatures while Surl and I inspected the starport infrastructure. To my surprise I realized the native Appian equipment was almost always as good as the equivalent Sonjon equipment. Sometimes the Appian equipment was not only better, but based on a completely different technical origin. The image of Appians in the Empire was of a slightly backward people dependant on the Sonjon for technology.

I found myself caught up in Doc’s good mood. There was nothing Doc treated that was nearly as infectious as one of his cheerful moods. What I had seen on the planet, aside from the slight mystery of the Appian technology, was enough to sadden anyone. The Appians we saw were pale and sickly. Even the land they lived in looked pale and sickly. Doc, however, was quite cheerful about the whole thing. He had apparently thought he knew of a cure for both the land and the people living in it.

After we landed on the flight deck of the Glory, the inner hatch of our shuttle irised open as the outer hatch rolled upward and I was surprised to see Captain J’Fal standing on the flight deck in full dress uniform apparently waiting for us to arrive. Nothing appears quite so puffed up and inflated by ego as a j’Son’Jon nobleman playing officer. He had all the senior j’Son’Jon officers with him, also in their dress uniforms, and a detachment of marines. I rejoiced inwardly as I realized he must have finally decided to offer aid to the governor and was headed down to tour the planet himself.

“I always said it was a mistake to allow Draksan dirt farmers into the Navy. They lack discipline and loyalty.” J’Fal said to the woman to his right. She smirked a reply as the captain continued. “I knew if I fed you enough rope you would eventually hang yourself Ghar. Now I have you for the murder of a Fleet Officer and Inciting a Mutiny.”

“What?” Doc shouted, his reverie broken by J’Fal’s words. “If hadn’t gone down for that routine inspection, which was his duty as First Officer by the way you ignorant whelp, I would have never seen those sick Appians and would not have been able to develop a cure for them…”

Doc’s voice trailed off slowly and he collapsed to the deck. Surl and I rushed forward and turned him on his back. There was a tight pattern of needler darts embedded in his chest. I looked up into the barrel of J’Fal’s pistol and several of the marines lowered their carbines.

“Standing orders are to let any plagues on Appian planets run their courses. The Appians breed like herd animals and there are far too many of them as it is. Personally I hope this disease will decimate their population.” J’Fal gave me a tight lipped grin and motioned with the pistol for me to move away from Doc’s body. “Perhaps our scientists can find a way to modify the plague for Draksan physiology.”

The crowd of j’Son’Jon chuckled at the joke. Surl fluttered his multiple jaws in frustration before turning to the captain. “What madness is this? These men have done nothing against the law-”

“I will not be lectured on the laws of my people by a savage!” J’Fal shouted Surl down and stepped forward to press the barrel of his pistol against Surl’s chest. It was easy to be brave when there was a detachment of marines supporting you. “Violating a standing order of the Empire is treason and mutiny. The penalty for which is death. As leader of this mutiny my former First Officer is responsible not only for inciting the mutiny, but also for any deaths that occur as a result of it. Take them both to the brig. We will have their trial after we leave orbit.”
 
“Have you reviewed my analysis assessment and verified my course computations to Makmadi?” P’Mela strolled leisurely into Te’Zsing’s command and slid into her comfortable command chair. As she reviewed the main holo-display for images from the shuttle feed, she automatically pivoted the primary conn/comm console from its safety position to a more comfortable working position in front of her.

“Yes, Captain, I have reviewed your analysis of N’Fan’s transmissions to his agricultural governors. I won’t inquire as to how you accessed coded and highly restricted Imperial communiques.” Te’Zsing’s voice hinted at his amusement.

“I’ve been watching over D’Nel’s shoulder.” she muttered under her breath.

“Ahhhh! That would explain it.” The ship’s laugh echoed throughout the large Command room. “Back to your questions, however. I agree with your assessment concerning Makmadi. It would appear similar to Chahan in regards to rapidly declining production rates, but otherwise, it seems completely abandoned. That may be because of the planet’s close position to the Auroran territorial border. I’ve been unable to detect any Sonjon vessels in proximity to the ag-world. One correction to your course computations for Makmadi.“ Te’Zsing chuckled as he sent the correction to her console.

Quickly scanning the new computation, P’Mela smiled. “My apologies, Te’Zsing! I forget the power-to-mass ratio change due to your new jump engines. Please lock the course computation into our file. We’ll go directly to Makmadi once we’ve....”

P’Mela stopped in mid-sentence, focusing on the intermittent signal coming from the planet surface. Due to their tight comm beam, maintained on lowest power settings, the chatter between members of D’Nel’s team came through the sensor with choppy static-filled thrusts. Her eyes glanced at the time index on her console and she mumbled “First comm message not scheduled for another two hours.” But her fingers quickened across the soft surface of her console.

Te’Zsing felt her slight manual adjustment to his trajectory angle and the slightly more dramatic changes to his cloak modulation. He immediately knew her purpose. Faster than she could command him, he began the precise dispersion of high energy electrons away from the communications array, now pointed directly towards the landing spot of the away team.

The usually fuzzy white noise suddenly boomed clearly into focus. Surl-Than’s voice was deep, compelling, almost shouting “I repeat! Medical emergency. Warlord has been injured. Have medlab standby, highest priority. Phantom, do you receive?”

“Affirmative.” P’Mela’s voice was deceptively calm. Her pale blue eyes quickly scanned the uplink data suddenly scrolling across the secondary display on her console. Seeing the countdown data for the antimatter power plants, she muttered “D’Nel, why couldn’t you have given us a little more time?” She continued to review trajectories, speeds, explosion shockwave predictions and knew there was only one way to make sure they all survived this newest Ghar Maneuver.

Her fingers blazed across the comm panel, entering codes and references long known and understood between the ship and its captain. As the ship began its changes, she reached beneath her chair, and retrieved the emergency breathing unit, adjusting it to her, leaving the mouth-piece hanging loosely. Te’Zsing heard the distinctive snap as she jammed her safety harness on, then tightly adjusted it to keep her safely in place.

Switching from keyed commands to audio so that the Appian shuttle and occupants would understand as well as Te‘Zsing, “Phantom to Specter, continue your present course and speed. Be prepared for immediate retrieval.” her voice still calm and confident sounding.

“Te’Zsing shunt power from cloak to atmospheric shielding. Lay in course to rendezvous with shuttle, best possible atmospheric speed. Prepare docking bay for emergency hard dock. Osala, on my mark, relinquish your conn to Te’Zsing’s control! Three-two-one-MARK!” Her eyes saw her console confirm computer control of the shuttle. “Once we’re in position, Te’Zsing, I want that shuttle onboard hard and fast.”

“Understood, Captain.”

“As soon as the shuttle touches the decking, go to time dilation jump - course heading Makmadi Pulsar System.” P’Mela’s voice was still cool and calm.

“A JUMP FROM AN ATMOSPHERE?” screeched Te’Zsing.

“Easier on us than the antimatter explosion coming!” her voice sounded determined. “Medlab, go to highest priority readiness. Prepare for: one critical Draksan injury, four possible Appian injuries, severity unknown at present.”

Her fingers once again raced across her comm panel, composing ”Emergency Message to Admiral Arranhoth and to all Sonjon vessels in proximity to Chahan. I recommend you move your ships away from Chahan at least 700,000 kilometers further than your current location. Planetwide antimatter explosion imminent. This is your first and only warning. Admiral Arranhoth, you owe me one! j’Son’jon Chief of Staff, WarMaster General P’Mela Piaue LeonDocTchi.”

As she sent the encoded message, she activated the holo-displays around the command center, with the largest ones focused on the planetary views. Her instincts told her she would need proof for naysayers on Ch’Chock’pi. P’Mela felt the gravity forces working on her despite Te’Zsing’s automatic inertia-dampening. Quickly, she placed the emergency breathing unit in place and took a deep breath through the mouthpiece, testing. Then all she needed to do was watch as they descended rapidly through the whitish haze - the frontal cone of shielding forcing fluffs apart to reveal the dirty atmosphere ahead. Once a pristine planet, the destruction of Chahan’s ecosystem had left brownish particulate matter filtering through its skies instead of clouds.

Turbulence increased as the stresses on Te’Zsing reached it critical phase. The abrupt bouncing and jerking of her head and limbs, despite the safety harness, made her pregnancy nausea even worse. Unconsciously, her hands went to her softly rounded abdomen, pressing firmly as if to protect the small thing inside from the rough atmospheric entry.

“Captain, we’ve attracted the Growlers’ attention.” The ship’s voice sounded a bit stressed. “But my computations suggest they will not be able to catch us....hopefully.” P’Mela’s eyebrows flexed at the uncertainty in Te’Zsing’s voice but she was trying not to speak. Bile was rising as she fought the turbulence and the breathing unit.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the turbulence began to recede and the ship settled. She saw the Appian shuttle on the largest holo-display. A small black speck, resembling an Arcallean Vulture, quickly growing in relation to themselves as Te’Zsing vectored to intersect. Her eyes detected something and she growled into comm system “OSALA! Bio-scans show the young warrior Kov-Strop is still in the rear gunnery position of the shuttle. Get him and ALL occupants to the front cabin of the shuttle. That is an order!”

Te’Zsing’s holodisplays changed focus as he maneuvered in front of the shuttle. A slight vibration could be felt as he opened the docking bay hatch and slowed almost imperceptibly. As the shuttle moved into his aft compartment, he abruptly increased velocity, softening the sudden stopping of the shuttle. P’Mela watched the display, seeing the silicon pouches inflate as the shuttle slid sideways towards the bulkheads. The shuttle squeezed forward into the liquid pouches, coming to a quick stop before hitting the framework of the ship. Behind the shuttle, she saw the docking bay hatch slide and lock into position.

A message began to scroll across her comm. “Emergency Answer to WarMaster General LeonDocTchi. I owe you nothing! Stand down and prepare to be boarded! Admiral Arranhoth, 48th Alae.

“Idiot!” P’Mela drawled coldly and saw Sonjon vessels moving towards Chahan. “JUMP Te’Zsing!” The command was forceful. Her eyes focused back onto the display view of the docking bay, watching as the four Appians carried D’Nel from the shuttle and placed him on the antigrav medical bed, accompanied by 3 med-droids.

Sighing deeply, she felt her stomach lurch and the bile suddenly returning with a vengeance. Quickly, she yanked the safety harness off and jumped from the command chair, and ran to the nearest disposal unit, located just outside the main exit from the bridge. As time and space began to bend around Te’Zsing in a routine time dilation jump, P’Mela was retching into the disposal. By the time her stomach was purged, Te’Zsing was 3 parsecs away from Chahan.

Behind them, on a planet once known as Chahan, 17 power plants went critical mass, driving the antimatter into the power cores. The resulting explosion: first, produced a silent bluish-white light which blinded every ship’s sensor within one million kilometers of the planet’s location; second, the atmosphere ignited and instantly burned away the hive brain and all its subsystems around the planet; third, the shockwaves ripped through soil and rock to send the underlying tectonic plates into catastrophic collisions; fourth, the resulting super-heated atmospheric gases expanded outward rapidly, burning Growlers to ash before their exoskeletons could feel the heat; and finally, the super-heated gases continued to expand, quickly overtaking and transforming Sonjon ships and crews into interstellar, highly radioactive dust.
 
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Since I had nothing better to do in my cell I decided to practice interpreting Appian mannerisms. I surreptitiously watched Surl for any actions that might indicate agitation or anxiety. The only thing I saw was Surl, acting much as he always did when he was bored. Several hours passed and I began to believe Surl was in fact bored and had not the slightest anxiety about his current situation. He suddenly sat up straight on his bunk and offered me a seated half bow.

“Forgive me my friend, I have not been much of a companion to you.” The Appian clicked his jaws in what I suspected was humor. “To be honest I was curious to see how Draksans would act under such stressful conditions, but all I have been able to learn so far is that you seem to be equally curious about how Appians react. Lucky thing for us we chose to be warriors rather than sociologist.”

I found myself laughing at the foolishness of it but stopped when the door to the brig slid open. I allowed myself a sad smile when I saw it was W’em Nadek, the Draksan warrant officer in command of the marines on board the Sonjon Glory. His family was also allied closely with my clan on Draksa

“The captain has shut down the comm systems, Commander, and confined all the Draksan officers to their quarters until after the trial. The officers of the other races are either licking the captain’s boots or too afraid to take action. There is no way to petition the captain’s decision. I’ve fixed the duty schedule so only those I trust will be guarding the two of you.” Nadek looked briefly toward Surl and then back to me. He appeared to be in the midst of making a difficult decision. “Some of the marines present when you were arrested are good people. They had no idea what the captain was planning to do. They say the captain shot Doc because he found a cure to help those people down there. Is that true M’lord?”

“Doc hadn’t found the cure yet, but he was certain he had one. The captain shot him for it though. He said it was mutiny.” I looked past W’Lem at Surl. The Appian was leaning back against the bulkhead and listening intently to our conversation. He too looked like a man in the midst of making a difficult decision. It was a curious contrast to the calm he displayed earlier. “How did you learn about conditions on the planet, W’Lem?”

“The shuttle pilot told me sir. He went into a hangar to borrow a spanner and found the place was being used a shelter. He had never seen such thin Appians before, Commander, so he gave them all of the emergency rations from the shuttle. I think he may have left the first aid kit as well. Just goes to show not all the Sonjon are like the captain…” W’Lem’s voice trailed off and I sensed he had run out of idle talk. He took a deep breath and after another look toward Surl began speaking again. “We have come up with a plan, Commander, to get you – and Surl-Than – to the fighter bay. A Broadsword has just enough range to make it to Draksa. You can lodge a complaint there. What the captain is doing is illegal and immoral-”

“No, W’Lem. J’Fal comes from a rich and powerful Imperial family. They make their own laws. If you help us then everyone involved will be executed and your deaths will be added to the charges against me.”

“You will die otherwise D’Nel…” W’Lem had not called me by my given name since we were both children. He slapped his hand against the bulkhead, speaking loudly at first but then softening his tone as he calmed himself. “There must be a way! There must be. The only other thing I can think of though…”

“There are not enough of us on board for that W’Lem.”

“You may have more help than you realize Warrant Officer Nadek.” Surl stood up from the bed and grinned out at us from his cell. Then he said something in Appian to quickly for me to understand.

“Even with your Appians, Surl-Than, we would not have enough-” I stopped in mid-sentence and felt my jaw hanging slackly.

Nadek maintained his composure somehow and only gave the two Appian soldiers who had apparently materialized beside him a passing glance. He checked to see that the Appian weapons were on SAFE and then hooked his thumbs on his belt in a non-threatening manner. “In my professional opinion, M’Lord Commander, they’ll do.”

“I trust your troops are good at more than just fighting Surl?” I asked. Surl grinned at me in the disconcerting Appian way and his jaws fluttered excitedly. Of course they were. “Good. We will need a team to make there way into the officer’s quarters and make a few log entries. The encryption on the personal logs is not very complex so they should have no trouble getting into them. We will make it look like they were about to embark on careers of piracy. There is enough corruption in the Empire for that to be believed.”

“It would be best if people you could trust went with them. Not all of my troops are fluent in your language. We have some spare cloaking shields for them.” Surl hissed and clicked his multiple jaws in laughter. “You are mad D’Nel Ghar, but they will sing songs of this on Heroes’ Day!”

“If we can take over a battleship and get away with it, that would be worth a song or two.” Nadek clapped the two Appians next to him jovially. They seemed perplexed by the action but amused a well.

That night from the captain’s quarters I transmitted a report back to Ch’chockpi describing how Captain J’Fal had died during an attempted mutiny. Those responsible had been captured and executed. Their personal logs indicated they intended to join up with a small fleet of pirates who had been harassing shipping in the area. I planned on continuing to the rendezvous point to surprise and destroy the pirates.

In a private, highly encrypted message I informed J’Fal’s family that I had found evidence that J’Fal planned on augmenting his own personal fortune by allowing the pirates to continue to raid Appian shipping and then collecting tariffs from them for the privilege. It appealed greatly to my sense of irony that it was even true. I went on to tell them that I had destroyed the records to save them from any embarrassing inquiries at court. They would know without my telling them that I had lied in the official report concerning J’Fal’s heroic actions during the mutiny.

The next morning I received a promotion to captain endorsed by the J’Fal family and permission to carry on with my mission against the pirates. We were all quite pleased at the time to have escaped with our lives and careers intact. Taking over the Sonjon Glory planted a seed in all of our minds, however, a seed that grew slowly over the years until it finally bloomed into something much larger…
 
Zak and Mos had very little contact for the remainder of the term, seeing each other only during classes and the chance meeting while moving about the campus. They graduated 1-2 in their class, Mos was number 1 and Zak number two because of a minor mistake in their final examinations. Some wondered if Zak did not throw the bad answer in to give his friend the number 1 spot. The punishment ended at graduation, the King relenting under constant pressure from his wife and son. Mos spent much of his time at the Citadel in the central city, or out doing what young unattached Copani males did during the break between one school and another.

The Copani Royal Air Force Academy was far enough from the Citadel that Zak and Mos could only go home once a period for a few days, enough time to cause some amount of havoc when they were outside the strict discipline of the Academy. It was during one of those visits that spelled the beginning of the end of a very long friendship. While walking through the hallways of the business side of the Citadel, they came to the Records unit and found, sitting there in the anteroom, the most attractive female Copani they had ever seen.

Mos broke away from Zak and approached her, being the most forward of the two, and introduced himself to her.

“Greetings my lady, I am Mos Galadstin. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Greetings sir, I am P’Mela and no, you may not help me. I wait for my appointment time with the Deputy Records Manager. Thank you though, I appreciate the offer.”

Zak called out to him that they would be late for their Moogie Match if he didn’t stop dawdling. Mos waved at him and excused himself from her and left, joining Zak and leaving the area, turning for one last look..

“By Hovath Zak, I will wed that woman someday, I just have to convince her that I am something a bit better than waste material.”

Zak laughed and asked, “Exactly how can you possibly accomplish that in the short amount of time you have.”

Mos responded by asking, “What are you talking about?”

Zak answered him with a grin, “Your entire life my friend, your entire life.”

Mos, making sure they were out of sight of the woman, punched Zak in the arm, hard enough to make him wince, then laugh that much harder. Mos soon joined him and began to make plans to get away from Zak so he could go back to the Records Unit and attempt to engage the beauty in conversation. Unfortunately they were playing Moogie with two others who were relentless and by the time the game was completed the Unit was shut down for the day.

As they ate with the King and Queen, Mos mentioned that he had met a young woman named P’Mela and the Queen asked, “A very attractive female no doubt, and you also intend to marry this one Mos?”

The King and Zak both laughed and Mos nodded yes, adding “But this time I am serious.” The Queen joined the laughter this time and Mos’s skin turned the red-gold of embarrassment. “But she seems not at all interested in me. Alas it will take much more time and energy to convince this female that I am well worth considering. Again, everyone laughed, even Mos laughed this time and then there was no further mention of the lovely P’Mela

Unbeknownst to the rest, Zak had used his power as Second Prince to find out more about this female, one with obvious taste since she did not care for Mos Galadstin. She was a waitress in a small eating establishment not far from city center. She was well liked by both her employers and patrons and garnered much respect among her co-workers. She was a refugee and had moved from camp to camp until she found herself on Copan. She wished to locate her rightful parents, whether here on this planet, in this city, or somewhere within the Copani Alliance.

Zak spoke to the Records Unit Head and told him to get as much information for her as he possibly could and then give it to him to deliver. The Unit Head, witness to many of the Princes other dalliances, and background checks, smiled and told him he would contact him as soon as the information had been gathered.

A few days later, during which time Mos could not locate the young female, Zak received a call from the Records Unit head and he went to pick up the packet of material concerning P'Mela. Of course he opened the packet and glanced through it. It contained a record of her journey from one refugee camp to another until she came to Copan.
 
Several months passed after our successful coup on the Glory and I put my small task force to good use in the hard places of the Rim. Aside from the Sonjon battleship I had at my disposal 3 Appian Copani-class ships and one Sonjon hunter-killer corvette. In theory there was supposed to be an entire Alae assigned to this part of space to help enforce the peace. In truth, piracy tariffs were more profitable than peace.

I rotated the Copani-class ships on a raiding cycle for nearby independent systems. The idea was the raids would look like pirate attacks or even attacks by the mysterious Copani themselves. The independent systems after a time would turn to the Sonjon Empire for aid in dealing with the attacks. When they did I would schedule the corvette to run a monthly patrol through the nearest systems and schedule the Appians to raid the next system on the list. Sometimes I would have the corvette leap out of warp just as one of the Appian ships was beginning an attack. The Appian ship would flee and the “victorious” corvette would escort the grateful merchant vessels to their next port.

In between these raids I employed the rest of my task force with hunting down the real pirates in the area. It was challenging work. Most of the pirate groups were actually employed by noble families back on Ch’Chockpi so we could not let the Glory be seen coming to the rescue of an Appian merchant convoy. The Appians helped in this respect by fitting the Glory with one of their impressive cloaking shields.

My task force soon grew into a small fleet. My predecessors had demanded all the salvage taken during the raids. The Appians kept some of course, but the lion’s share went into the captain’s personal coffers. For their assistance in saving my life and lives of all Draksans on the Glory I decided to let the Appian crews keep what they salvaged. Much to my surprise, my fleet now composed of six Copani-class ships and nearly a dozen Appian scout ships. When the seventh Copani-class ship returned from a raid that originally only had six ships I asked to speak with Surl-Than privately in my stateroom.

“The Sonjon are pulling back their battleships to their own space and leaving the Appian vessels assigned to them to rust away in spacedock. Word is spreading that the captain of the Sonjon Glory is…for now let us just say they think you are a great man.” Surl pressed on before I could ask him what he meant. “The Appe-Yahn once occupied an enormous volume of space, but a civil war forced us to abandon many of our worlds. This is why all of our older worlds are overcrowded and unemployment is so high. We have only recently regained the ability to travel in the Holy Void between the stars and restoring the standard of living to colony worlds that have fallen to Iron Age technology, let alone worlds that had been completely abandoned, requires a great deal of resources.”

“What does this have to do with our growing fleet?” I motioned to the small holographic display beside us and its images of the starships currently making lazy orbits around my battleship.

“Every Appian convoy we save adds to wealth of the world owning that convoy. The money is used to refit any Copani-class ships left in drydock. The ships provide employment for thousands of Appians and the shipyards provide employment for thousands more. Some remain to provide for planetary defense, but a few lucky ones are permitted to join the Glory and all the noble Drak-san who are helping restore our civilization.” Surl was looking at me with an almost religious awe and I sank back into my chair with my mind reeling.

“You realize, Surl, that eventually we will run out of pirates for your people to chase. What will they do then? Many will be tempted to turn to piracy themselves rather than return to starvation.”

“Yes…I know and so does our ruling council.” Surl allowed his gaze to drift to the holographic display for a moment and then turned back to me. “I have been speaking with my superior, Tor-Bar, about this. Someday I think it would be beneficial for both our people’s if the two of you were to meet.”

“Someday I would like to, but for now let us talk about our pirate problem. The noble houses back on the capitol will not be happy that we are so efficient dealing with the pirates. It cuts into their profits.” I picked up a stack of message traffic and handed them to Surl. “They have decided to bring my Alae up to full strength. The senior officers on these new ships will all be members of the Noble families sent out here with the secret goal of supplying the pirates with better equipment so the tariff profits will go back up.”

“Your own people would do this?” The ability of a face with four jaws to convey a sense of moral disgust was truly amazing.

“No. No one from Draksa is so bereft of morals.” I sat forward again, barely able to contain my excitement. “Which is what led me to believe my plan would work, but I will need your help. The plan won’t work without Appians.”

“I cannot say whether the sinking feeling in my stomach is caused by my excitement or my fear about what are you planning now my mad friend...”

“I want to repeat what we did on the Glory on every one of those new ships. Remove everyone loyal to the corrupt families back in the Empire and fill out the crews with Appians.”

“Won’t these Noble families of yours grow suspicious?”

“We will give them something else to worry about.” I picked up a stack of reports from the Draksan Intelligence Service and handed them to Surl. “We will say some of the ships broke away and turned pirate – that is probably what some of the more powerful houses are planning anyway. Instead of raiding Appian shipping though we will have or crews raid the secret convoys each and every one of the Noble houses runs in and out of the Rim. They cover the gamut from simple smuggling to avoid Imperial taxes to running slaves and illegal narcotics. Each House will believe one of the other Houses is conspiring against it. They will never suspect us of raiding our own convoys. This way we will give your crews something to do beside turn pirate and simultaneously cut back on crime and corruption in the Empire.”
 
After regaining her composure from the bout of nauseau, P’Mela ran the corridors to the lower level medlab. She looked helplessly through the bio-hazard containment field which had been automatically erected by the medical computer. D’Nel was lying unconscious on the surgical bed. His armored suit had been lasered off by the med-droids, and they were now meticulously cleaning his wound. The medical scanner passed slowly over him. The complex panel of displays next to the observation window began to show the results of the medscan. Though she read the words, her medical understanding was not well defined. Much of what she was seeing made no sense to her.

“It would have been wise to include a surgeon on this trip.” Surl-Than’s tone of voice sounded as if it carried more than a bit of sarcasm and recrimination. Or perhaps it was the guilt she felt for not requiring a physician to accompany them!

Turning to face Surl, P’Mela blushed on seeing his unclad physique, and turned quickly to stare back at D’Nel. Surl had just exited the decon chamber and was more concerned about the condition of his friend and Warlord than his current state of undress. “How is he?” Enna was approaching them quickly as was Osala. P’Mela quickly glanced around and noticed the undressed condition of both of them as they continued to dry off from the decon bath.

“It would have been wise if I had required a surgeon on this trip!” P’Mela remarked before Surl had the chance for additional recrimination.

To her surprise, Surl added “The secrecy of the mission and the small number of crew did not justify a physician, P‘Mela.” She looked at him and offered him a subtle nod of thanks. It was the first time she could remember him calling her by name rather than by rank. The sound of boots approaching, caused all of them to snap around nervously. The junior Appian, Kov-Strop had gotten dressed before approaching the medlab. For some unexplained reason, it made the rest of them laugh lightly.

The metallic emotionless medical computer began to address them. It succinctly communicated the nature of D’Nel’s wound and the recommended treatment and surgical protocol. The weapon had penetrated through his upper bowel, ripped through the lower portion of his digestive system and nearly severed the arteriovenous spleen/liver organ. There was not enough time to get to a fully equipped hospital. The computer recommended robotic sterotactic radiosurgery. It would be less invasive than traditional surgery, would reduce the amount of recovery time but most importantly, would quickly ionize the bleeding tissues, reducing chances of infection or further complications.

Quickly, P’Mela gave permission and her security code for the surgery requirements. “Due to the rank of the officer, and his grave condition, I will require a second approval.” the cold computer voice answered. Surl quickly stated his name, rank and security code. The Sonjon computer replied “I do not recognize an Appian approval. I will require a Sonjon approval.” P’Mela’s anger flared and she hit the computer display with her fist and cursed it.

Surl calmly closed his alien hand over hers, pulling it away from the display, whispering “Violence towards a computer never helps.” He continued to hold her hand in his large warm one and attempted a wink at her. Then in perfect mockery of D’Nel’s voice and accent, he said “Surgery approval granted. Fleet WarMaster Admiral D’Nel Abahai Ghar. Security Code AZ-theta-20670-alpha.” P’Mela gasped, her mouth dropped open as she stared at the Appian. He shrugged, while still holding her hand. Several long moments passed for them all. Finally the cold emotionless computer replied “Approvals accepted. Surgery will begin immediately.”

P’Mela pulled Surl away from all the displays and in a soft voice asked astonished “How did you do that? How did you know his codes?”

Surl’s multiple jaws clicked loudly in amusement. Again he attempted a Draksan style shrug and said humbly “Too much time spent with D’Nel! One learns, and remembers, bits and pieces.”

“But what made you think it would work?”

Surl’s noises increased until they echoed down the corridor causing the other Appians to look around. “A computer is stupid. I didn’t think it would check the approver's name against the patient identity. I was correct. It checked just the database for approval codes to match an officer’s name.”

In a display of emotion, P’Mela threw her arms around Surl’s neck and hugged him tightly, finally placing a kiss on each of his ‘cheeks’. “Thank you!” she was crying softly as she hugged him.

Had Surl-Than been able to blush, he would have. In apparent calmness, he took her arms from around his neck and said coolly “May I get dressed now, WarMaster General? I don‘t believe the Admiral will enjoy waking to find me nude at his bedside.”

P’Mela laughed despite herself. As Surl started to walk towards his quarters, P’Mela said over her shoulder “Remind me, Surl, to change all my codes and authorizations after this mission. Especially my bank accounts!” His clicking jaws could be heard long after he had disappeared down the corridor.
 
He continued reading and his eyes opened wide when her parents were described. P’Mela Laavadne was a member of the Laavadne Aristocracy, hereditary First Ministers of Raegel-Keataurus. Well, that should make for interesting conversation over dinner one evening, “Uh, Mother, Father, guess what, I’m very interested in a member of the Laavadne family, you know the ones, the First Minister of Raegel-Keataurus and his wife.”

He would not worry about that yet, he would merely deliver the papers.

Packing up the papers, he headed for the city center and the small eating establishment that she worked at. Asking for a table that she waited on he sat and waited for a table to become free. He watched her moving almost effortlessly between tables, teasing and joking with people she obviously knew, frowning a few times at remarks made to or about her.

Finally a table opened up and he was seated at one of her stations. After ordering a large meal, he asked if she was P’Mela Laavadne. When she answered Yes, Zak handed her the packet of material and told her he had come to give those to her. After eating a pleasant meal, he paid and left. Over the course of the next few weeks he spent much time listening to Mos bemoan the fact that, although he had found out where she worked, she did not seem interested in him, no matter what he did.

Zak, on the other hand, had found her charming and witty, visiting the eating establishment as often as he could, making sure he sat at one of her tables, and engaging her in easy conversation. It took a few weeks for her to get comfortable enough with Zak to mention to him that his friend was still trying to convince her to accompany him to a play, concert, or even an art showing. She was politely refusing him, not liking his brash forward way all their conversations went. It put her off and she wished he would discontinue bothering her.

Zak frowned and smiled inwardly, feeling bad for Mos because he was someone she didn’t care for, but smiling because she was comfortable enough to tell him. He decided to take a chance, knowing he could very easily become like Mos on her list.

Sitting at her table one morning, he ordered breakfast and, when she brought it, he asked her, “P'Mela, I uh, was wondering, would you care to join me at the Grand Auroran Symphony tomorrow evening? I have excellent seats and would love to have you accompany me.”

P'Mela, secretly delighted that asked her accepted in her gracious, almost shy, way and they agreed to meet before for a light meal at a nearby dining establishment. The next evening, when Zak entered the restaurant, many eyes turned towards the Prince, some people attempting to engage him in conversation but being politely put off. The manager, move swiftly up to Zak and bowed.

“A young female was to meet me here, has she arrived?” Then Zak described her and the manager led the way into the main room, through to the curtained entrance of the waiting area. On the way to the waiting area, Zak whispered to the manager, I am to be treated as anyone else. I do not want this female to know that I am Second Prince.” There, standing by one of the large windows, was P'Mela in a simple, yet elegant, formal gown. This was probably the turning point in their relationship because this was when Zak discovered his feelings for P'Mela, and the road he wished to travel with her.

As they left the establishment, after an excellent meal and good conversation, they didn’t notice Mos crossing the boulevard as they turned towards the concert hall. Mos glared at both Zak and P'Mela, sure Zak had gone after P'Mela without regard to his feelings and P'Mela because she had obviously gone after Zak because of his position. Zak sensed something amiss but couldn’t pinpoint it and dismissed it.

As expected the concert was excellent and after, Zak escorted P'Mela home. She lived in a group house not far from her place of employment and said good night to him at the entrance door. Smiling, he kissed her cheek and turned to leave when he turned back to her and asked her out for the following night. Smiling, P’Mela answered yes, that she would love to. Zak left and headed for the Citadel. Mos watched them both, his anger seething within him, vowing he would get even with both of them somehow.
 
Surl paced in one direction, passing P’Mela pacing in the other. Enna, Osala and Kov sat out of the way, their heads moving lazily as they followed the crisscrossing paths of the other two. Just on the other side of the wall, D’Nel was undergoing surgery.

Only minutes earlier, all of them had jumped nervously as the bio-hazard field suddenly sizzled out of existence. The computer followed with an announcement “Decon of the patient is concluded.” All of them quickly pressed closer to the observation window to watch the surgery. But upon seeing the condition of D’Nel and the robotic arms working suspended over him, P’Mela was overcome with another bout of nauseau. Osala saw the Draksan woman turning shades of different skin tones and quickly deduced the problem. She pulled her across the corridor to the nearest disposal unit. Holding her head for support, Osala chatted light-heartedly, trying to distract P’Mela’s thoughts and fears. Enna, seeing the problem as well, quickly gathered some nutrient juice from the galley nearby and insisted that she drink it all.

It was Te’Zsing, however, that was able to get her full attention off what was happening nearby. “Captain, we are approaching the deep-space tachyon relay station. You had ordered me to cloak and drop out of time dilation jump. What is my objective?”

P’Mela straightened and drank the rest of the nutrient before answering. “Have you detected the presence of any other ships, mines, defense platforms, growlers....”

Her list trailed off as Te’Zsing answered impatiently “Of course not! P’Mela, I followed standard protocols! What is my objective?” He sounded wholly annoyed that she questioned his abilities. Truth was that he was as nervous over the condition of the Admiral as the rest. He actually missed the fun of playing practical jokes on the Draksan male. He only had two friends, P'Mela and ZakRianan, and somehow the friendship of the Admiral had been a surprise to him.

“I’ll be on the bridge if....” she looked at Surl and smiled slightly. “...when he wakes. Keep me apprised, please.” She hurried down the corridor and up to the next level. She made a quick stop in her quarters to retrieve the datacrystals and then hurried to the command center. Slipping the first one into the small indentation, Te’Zsing automatically uploaded whatever information was on the crystal.

“Decryption files?” he questioned. They were unlike anything he had in his database. They had decryption codes from hundreds of worlds and societies but these were unique.

“Mask your transponder codes, Te’Zsing, with the following transponder ID: Sokoto Cruise Liner Sunrise Glow ‘Owner #:Lamda/Balarin/7834629043.7630.2.1’. Contact the relay station and request receipt of all messages marked for ‘Lady Jiang Li Ming Ue‘. We’re looking particularly for any messages from the Sokoto Embassy on Ch-Chock’pi, marked low level priority, from a ‘Lord Xin Qian Juan’.” P’Mela drummed her fingers absently along the arms of her command chair. A strange smile crossed her face and she pulled her comm panel around to work quickly. She giggled as she drafted the ‘cover letter’ for the WarMaster Command Sergeant Chiang-Zhaizu Mai. Her updated mission reports were already encrypted on the second datacrystal.

Nearly ten minutes passed “Any luck Te’Zsing?” Her voice was impatient.

“You’d think a tachyon station would function more quickly!” Te’Zsing sighed in frustration “Bureacracy!” The small powerful hunter-killer ship maintained its cloaked position drifting nearby, its image and transponder codes projecting the style and presence of a large Sokoto luxury cruise liner. “I never knew Sokoto Warriors would require cruise ships!” Te’Zsing was getting more nervous at the inactivity and his foul mood reflected such.

P’Mela finished her letter and waited. She was actually enjoying the suspense of seeing what the Command Sergeant would wittily send her. It was the most ridiculous plan she had ever heard. It was so silly, it stood a good chance at succeeding.

“Got ‘em!” Te’Zsing’s snapped with excitement. A moment later, his astonished tone of voice was higher pitched than usual “These are love letters from the WarMaster Command Sergeant to you, P’Mela! And attached are Sokoto Love Chants!”

P’Mela burst into laughter and said “To my console.” Instantly the love letters began to scroll across her display. Her blue eyes danced across the fairly short, sickening sweet love letters and she laughed loudly, nearly bending double at the Command Sergeant‘s sense of humor. After all the sweet endearments, it was signed “Yours Faithfully and Eternally, Juan”. “Oh my, he is such a romantic soul!” P’Mela purred for Te’Zsing’s benefit.

“It is sickening! What will D’Nel think when he awakes from surgery to find that you...you....you and the Command Sergea....” Te’Zsing’s voice sounded like a parent scolding a wayward child. It wasn’t enough that his captain had been unfaithful to the Copani, but now to the Draksan as well!

“Oh Te’Zsing! The real messages are encrypted. These love letters are inane, low priority messages that would surely bore anyone spying on embassy mail!” P’Mela shook in continued laughter as she explained to the ship. “Use the decryption files I just gave you....”

“Understood, Captain. I must say it is a relief! I will decode the love letters immediately.” Te’Zsing’s relief was obvious in his tone of voice, now full of merriment as well.

Laughter rang from P’Mela again and she stuttered between laughs “No, Te’Zsing, you don’t understand! The encrypted files are not in the love letters. The love letters are silly little bits of fun which gives credibility to the attachments. The attachments require decryption.” The bridge was suddenly filled with screeching, shuddering, ear-splitting chanting.

“WHAT?" Te’Zsing was flustered. “I hate Sokoto Love Chants. They will boil my liquid circuits and solidify my silicon pathways!”

P’Mela bent over in peels of laughter. “Oh Te'Zsing! How you exaggerate! Truth is, everyone hates Sokoto Love Chants....well....except for Sokoto lovers. That is the Command Sergeant’s brilliance, don’t you see! Anyone checking for imbedded messages would never subject themselves or valuable computer time to looking through Sokoto Love Chants.” She stood and started out of the bridge, headed back to the medbay. “Let me know when the decryption is complete. I need to read immediately and probably will need to transmit some messages of my own.”

As the bridge door whooshed closed behind her, Te’Zsing muttered peevishly to himself “Will my abuse never end? Sokoto Love Chants! They have me listening to Sokoto Love Chants!" There was a sudden silence. Then the ship muttered "Wonder if the astronomy lab computer could decrypt these?”
 
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Mos attempted to act as if nothing had happened that evening over the next few days and succeeded for the most part, fooling everyone but Zak. Mos was giving off angry signals that he could not suppress enough to hide them from Zak. After being repeatedly asked about it by Zak, Mos exploded, screaming at Zak that he had used his position and power to steal P’Mela from him and have her as his own. Zak denied it, of course, and told him the truth. Mos would not believe Zak and lashed out at him, verbally at first and then physically. Zak could not defend himself against the animal onslaught and fell and Mos then substituted feet for fists until several people pulled him off. Zak turned over and sat up, dazed, bleeding from several cuts and scrapes.

“Mos,” he pleaded, “it was never intentional, please believe that. I was attracted to her and if she had been interested in you I would have backed off, but she was not.”

Mos shook his head, snorting derisively, not believing him. “Second Prince Zakrianan, I never wish to see or talk to you again. You were as my brother, now you are nothing to me. I will request transfer to another unit at the Academy and request assignment to any flight group you are not in. I will mourn our friendship but not you.”

Zak watched him walk away, taking a lifetime of friendship and companionship with him. Zak felt a loss that he had never felt before and a massive sadness overtook him, lying on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

When he arrived home his mother felt the emanations of sadness from him, but ministered to his cuts, scrapes and bruises while she waited for Zak to tell her what had happened. When he finally blurted it all out to her she held him tightly as his tears flowed, understanding the loss and letting him deal with it. She put him to bed, sending calming thoughts to him and, finally, he fell into a completely restful sleep with no dreams or thoughts.

P’Mela finally found out about Zak’s position shortly after the fight had occurred when he invited her to the Annual Royal Ball. When she was announced he went to escort her into the ballroom. Smiling, he took her arm and escorted her to meet his parents.

“Please don’t be nervous when you meet them. I have told them about you and my mother already loves you and my father, well, is my father.”

“Zak, look at me. All the finery and jewels, I look like what I am, a poor provincial. I can not stay, please let me leave.”

“Absolutely not. You are the most beautiful female here, and I am proud to escort you. Besides, here are my parents.”

P’Mela looked around but saw only the King and Queen. The King was holding the Queen’s hand, greeting each guest as they were presented. The Queen glanced at them and smiled. Looking at Zak, she nodded and smiled even more. Zak walked towards them, P’Mela trying to hold back, not knowing what he was doing but fearful for him and embarrassed for herself.

The King was the first to speak, his voice a bit gruff but a twinkle in the corner of each eye. “So this is the female you have been going on and on about.””

“Yes Father, this is P’Mela Laavadne. P’Mela, this is my Father, and my mother, Queen Forcant.”

P’Mela’s mouth dropped open and she stood still, finally looking at Zak and giving him the worst of looks. To the King and Queen, she performed the required gesture and turned to leave, wanting to run out and hide. The Queen forestalled that by insisting she stay close, that the guests still in the receiving line were dwindling and she wanted to chat with her.

She turned to Zak, her skin color taking on a slight orange tinge of anger and he smiled at her. It did not help; she was angry but managed to control her emotions as her skin color returned to normal. It took a concentrated effort on Zak’s part to convince her to stay and try and understand why he did not tell her of his position in the Royal Family. Too many females, upon finding out who he was pursued him with abandon, looking for position and power.

“Alright Zak, I accept your apology, but are there any other skeleton’s in your closet?”

Zak responded, “no, none what so ever. Now, lets dance.”

The two former friends completed the remaining terms with ease, again competing for the 1 and 2 spots, this time Zak placing first because he was the better pilot, by a fraction of a point. Both were assigned to mother ships in different parts of the Copani Alliance. While on leave before reporting, Zak asked P’Mela to become his life mate.
 
The WarMaster Command Sergeant’s encrypted files were quickly decoded and placed into readable files for P’Mela. She reviewed his two weeks’ of status reports with renewed awe for the old warrior. He had the ability to convey the most information using an efficiency of words.

Hearing a moan from D’Nel, she looked away from the reports to check on him. Though he was still deep in the post-surgical sleep, he was beginning to move slightly. She checked the med displays. Talking softly, she asked the medical computer to recheck his pain intravenous drip and increase slightly if possible. Soon, the deep wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothed and his shifting settled. P’Mela moved back to his bedside and resumed her reading.

She smiled as she saw the health reports on Issa-Fal and P’Aylie. Issa’s injuries had been fairly minor. A quick recovery and she vanished via cloak from the hospital. She soon reappeared along with a fellow Appian at the new command bunker. P’Aylie’s injuries had been life threatening, though with her Draksan resolve, she soon began to recover, with an Appian bodyguard watching over her from a cloaked position. As soon as P’Aylie was able to walk under her own strength, she had been cloaked and moved to the new command.

The young Sonjon cadet, Yhanna, had been personally mentored by Mai, and sent to N’Fan’s headquarters. There he played the part of someone displeased with the three WarMasters. His mission was to let the BL’Hala “recruit” him. The Sokoto warrior wanted a deep cover operative in the highly secret and deadly organization. Assassinations continued and terrorist cells were operating with impunity around the planet. N’Fan’s forces knew the military forces under the three WarMasters did not yet have resources to stop him on all fronts. Mai had decided the key was infiltrating the BL’Hala organization.

The last item in his report was directed to D’Nel. But considering his condition, P’Mela opened the file. She was surprised at the content but smiled. “Computer, convert this file to a 3 dimensional holo-display and leave available to this medical location.” She laid her head on the side of the pillow that D’Nel was occupying, wrapping her arm over his chest. Soon she was asleep.

She was awakened a short while later by Surl-Than. “General, I am ordering you to go to your quarters for rest, or as acting first officer I will relieve you of command of this ship.” He stood tall, his Appian features unreadable to her.

“I’d do what he says! He can be stubborn.” D’Nel’s raw throat rasped out the barely audible sentence. She smiled down at him and squeezed her arm a little tighter around him, noticing that Surl turned his attention to the waiting file on the display.

“D’Nel, this file is meant for you.” Surl said and stepped aside. P’Mela watched the recording flicker into its mid-air display and watched D’Nel’s reaction in her peripheral vision. The recording showed a very deep reddish-black Cyclone GX4 in all profiles, finally showing a delivery receipt signed by Issa-Fal. A checklist began to scroll showing all the Appian modifications that Issa, Spymaster and Chief of Intelligence for D’Nel’s Alae, was making to his newest sports vehicle. Surl shook his head in awe.

P’Mela shook her head in astonishment. “I can’t believe you took time to order a replacement for the one blown up at Command Headquarters!”

In his raspiest voice, D’Nel offered “Not a replacement. Ordered when I got my Admiral’s promotion. Just being received.”

“I see you ordered Passion Pink.” Surl made a clucking noise, obviously in disgust. P’Mela nodded and indicated her displeasure as well.

D’Nel squinted at the holodisplay and then, wincing in pain, growled “NO....NO....NO, not Passion Pink! Burgundy.”

Surl made a noise, might have been a laughter of disbelief, and said “On my world, we call that Passion Pink!”

“On Draksa as well!” P’Mela offered.

D’Nel stretched, trying to sit, and squinted at the display. “THAT...IS...BURGUNDY!” he snapped seriously. But pain washed through him and he collapsed on the bed. Both P’Mela and Surl quickly acknowledged that they had been teasing him. P’Mela tucked the warm blanket back around him.

“It is a beautiful vehicle!” D’Nel managed to groan, seeing Surl agree. “And all the enhancements I had before plus some new ones that Issa was developing for me.” he explained.

P’Mela stood back and stared at the display, her head tilting first one way then the other. She looked at D’Nel, seeing the proud smile on his face as he stared at the dimensional profiles of his newest toy. “Where do you intend to place the baby’s safety harness and equipment bag?” she asked in mock seriousness.

D’Nel’s smile quickly faded as he imagined the horrors inflicted on such a fine piece of equipment solely to accommodate a Draksan juvenile. Further, D’Nel’s wild imagination pictured the disgusting things that a baby could do to the finest of upholstery! And if the baby were to throw his toys, they could possibly hit the missile launcher, disengage the cloak, or hit the panel which controlled the anti-grav and emergency steering devices.

P’Mela smiled sweetly at D’Nel and bent over to kiss his warm forehead. “I think I will go get some sleep in my own bed for a while.” She bowed slightly to Surl, winked, and left.

As D’Nel stared sadly at the profiles slowly spinning in air over his bed, Surl groaned “A Cyclone GX4, fully equipped with a youngster?! It is a sad day for all us warriors, Warlord.”

“Discontinue viewing!” D’Nel moaned to the computer. His hand rested over his wound and surgical site. Soon he had slipped back into a deep sleep.
 
P’Mela was astonished at Zak’s words and quickly listed all the reasons, in her head, why she shouldn’t accept, then why she should. She found only one for, many against, so the one reason to say yes won out and she answered, “Yes, Zakrianan, I accept your offer and would be proud to be your life mate, until death part us and death reunites us”, she answered, in the time-honored Raegellan response.

Zak went to his mother first, with P’Mela, to break the news and to have an ally when he told his father.

“By Hovath,” she exclaimed, her skin turning a slight shade of green to indicate joy and excitement, “this is the best news you have told me in ages my Zak’nia. Turning to P’Mela, she continued, “Zak’nia, you are a lucky male to have garnered the love of this female, and I am a lucky mother to have such a daughter about to join our family.

P’Mela smiled and hugged the Queen, realizing how many rules of protocol she had broken after the act was completed. The Queen returned the hug, and touched P’Mela’s head, a gesture that conveyed complete acceptance. “

Now, since I am sure you have not yet told your father, you would like me to inform him before you go to see him?”

Zak’s head should have fallen off when he nodded so vigorously, “Oh yes mother, please.”

“I am sorry my son, this is something you must do yourself. Go, do it now before you are too fearful to do it.”

Zak looked at his mother with eyes that pleaded for her assistance but she simply smiled at him and told him to go, that she and P’Mela had much to talk about now. Dismissed, he had no choice and went to his fathers office. He stood before his desk, moving his weight from foot to foot, nervous but finally determined to tell his father.

“Father, I have asked P’Mela to become my life mate, and she has accepted. I wish your blessing and acceptance of her as a member of our family.

The King attempted a stern look and could not do it. He smiled widely and said, “Zak my son, I am proud and honored to have P’Mela as a member of our family. She is an intelligent female and soothing influence on you.”

Seeing his son nervousness, he asked, “Why so nervous son, you didn’t think I would say no did you?”

“Of course not father, just residual feelings left over from asking her.”

To say the wedding was a simple affair would be an understatement. Because Zak was Second Prince of the Copani Alliance it became an Alliance wide event, telecast throughout to all the worlds in the Alliance. Gifts began coming as soon as the announcement was made and the King and Queen presented the pair with a section of the Royal Grounds, building a large stronghold upon the highest point in the hills near the northern part of the estate.

Unanth acted as his Moctah, P’Mela’s oldest friend, Jenice, acted as her Foctah. The ceremony was steeped in tradition and pomp, but the conclusion was the same as if it had been a simple ceremony, Zak and P’Mela were life mates when it was completed.

Zak and P’Mela were surprised at the reception that followed the wedding to find themselves accepting best wishes on their joining from Mos Galadstin and his parents. Zak’s eyes pleaded with Mos and Mos simply bowed, gave them his good wishes and then pushed his way through the throng of citizens to escape this place before he committed an act that would surely commit him to prison.

Forcant and the King noticed the display and felt a twinge of sadness for Zak but that was soon put aside, the joy of the occasion making quick work of the memories of Mos’s coldness. After an extended trip they returned home, having almost a week together before Zak reported to his first assignment.

Unknown to both, their happy celebratory trip was observed by Mos, his anger and bitterness growing with each view of the couple. When he returned to his first assignment he began the first of many plans to attain his revenge. Over the years he had devised hundreds of scenarios, many duplicates with subtle changes, to exact his retribution. When news of the accident reached him, the death of P’Mela and Te’Zsing saddened him, but only because he had to throw out all of his plans and start over.
 
P’Mela stretched as she entered her quarters, and felt the tight muscles in her neck and back seize. She decided on a quick shower before bed. Using some of her Acuupee oil in the water reservoir, she slid under the cascade of water. She felt a fluttering deep inside. A shifting suddenly increased the pressure on her low back. She smiled, wishing D’Nel was there to feel his son moving inside her. After drying, she slid into a pair of silk pajamas and climbed into the lush bed. Sleep overtook her rapidly....................spinning her through dreams.

“Faster!” I could see the sandy haired, quicksilver blue-eyed boy sitting astride the llohmas, kicking the gentle beast with his small boots. “We’re going fast enough, son!” D’Nel laughed from just ahead of the wooly llohmas, the reins controlled in his strong hands. A distinctive grunt from the Draksan farm animal accompanied a toss of its head and lush mane. The boy looked at me and pleaded “Please Mommie, faster!” I heard my voice respond “Perhaps a little faster would be alright, D’Nel. He is doing very well so far.” D’Nel tossed a glance in my direction, slightly disapproving. “Will you be okay if we ‘gallop’ towards home?” My eyes glanced down, past the llohmas’ smooth rounded tusks, past the bridle, and settled on my overly large abdomen. I watched as D’Nel, in his worn running shoes, began to jog at a very slow pace, the reins gripped even tighter in his hand. The llohmas barely switched from a walk to a gentle canter, but the blue-eyed boy was squealing in delight.

Squealing in delight, the golden boy splashed his hands into the clear azure water. He smiled up at me, pleading “Faster, Mommie!” and his large black eyes sparkled in the sunlight. I noticed he was sitting in a miniature boat. I looked down through the water and saw my long sleek yellow legs walking faster over the elaborate tiles on the bottom of the pool. The golden boy kept reaching further over his boat, splashing water, eventually tossing back onto me. I heard myself laugh and watched as my petite yellow hand scooped up a handful of water and poured it over his smooth, perfectly rounded head. My actions caused another squeal of delight and more aggressive water splashing. A distant splash drew my attention. I saw an elegant older woman, darker hued than myself, slicing through the water as she swam athletically to the end of the pool. She flipped and began to swim back. “GRANDMOTHER!” the golden boy yelled and held out his arms to her. She swam around us and gently came up in front of him. Her hands caressed his face and held it upwards to meet her many kisses. Then she patted my face and asked “How are you today, P’Mela?”

“How are you today, P’Mela?” The copper-toned skin of the old clanswoman was crinkled from the severity of the Draksan desert but the color set off her quicksilver blue eyes, a commonality among the Ghar clan. “Are you ready for the Naming Ceremony?” she smiled at D’Nel. “Yes, Oldest Mother, all 3 of us are ready.” He smiled at me and once again shifted the baby in his arms. Our son wore a pure white christening gown and was swaddled in light scarves bearing the Ghar clan colors of violet and azure blue. The Oldest Mother Ghar was joined by the Oldest Mother LeonDocTchi under the fluttering gauze canopy, precisely at sundown. As the sun touched the horizon, our two clans began to chant. We walked slowly between the two clans, toward the two Oldest Mothers. The ceremonial words were shared by the two clan matriarchs as our son began to get fussy. D’Nel leaned over to me and whispered “I knew you should have nursed him before the ceremony.” Before I could answer, we were asked “What is his name?”

“What is his name?” asked my son Te’, whose large black eyes were wide in amazement. I was shaking in fear as I looked at the green garden snake hanging restlessly in his chubby hands. We were alone, far out in the royal formal garden. Here we often played, secure in the grounds. I let him wander too far without me and he found the snake. He thrust those chubby golden hands and snake up towards my face and asked again, "What is his name?". My breath caught painfully and I stuttered “I can’t breath.”

“I can’t breath.” I stuttered several times. Another pain ripped through me, stopping my complaint and threatening to turn me inside out. D’Nel was hovering over me. I could barely see him in the poor quality light. “Is it time?” he asked, his fear evident in both voice and eyes. Another pain blazed through me and I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling his face down to mine. “I never want you to touch me again!” My voice enunciated each syllable precisely though my voice sounded almost demonic. I heard the hiss of the hypospray just as I felt the cool liquid spread through my neck. Quickly, its relief spread throughout my body. “Let’s do this!” he said, managing to sound and look happy.

Managing to sound and look happy, he said “Let’s do this!” The tall elegant golden man called ZakRianan smiled down at me. “I love you. You look so beautiful today.” he added good-naturedly. I groaned “I still look pregnant. But the ceremonial robes hide most of it.” I watched as he proudly carried our one-day old son in the crook of his arm. The large golden baby looked around, wide eyed and alert. I felt filled with contentment and placed my hand on the back of his other forearm, as protocol rebuffed any further display of familiarity. I thought it ridiculous, since we were about to present the product of a such familiarity to his grandparents. We began our slow walk through the ancient hall, towards the King and Queen. Both of them smiled proudly at us, but I could barely keep emotions from my face. My eyes quickly scanned his family and friends, seeing the large portrait of First Prince Unanth who was in deep space on an important mission. I then saw his sister, Nuereen, surrounded by would-be admirers. We stopped before the King and Queen, bowed deeply and held it as protocol demanded. As we finally straightened, they stood. The King surprised us by reaching out to take his grandson from Zak, who actually tried to stop him. I watched the King’s large black eyes blinking rapidly, trying to keep tears from spilling over. His deep voice boomed “What brings us here today is a happy family occasion - the birth of our first grandchild. But for me, it is a personal victory, knowing that Zak’nia will now have to endure all the trials and tribulations that I have had to endure as a Father.” Knowing the truth in the statement, the gathering of family and friends laughed loudly.

The gathering of family and friends laughed loudly. I looked down, embarrassed to my deepest core, feeling my face flushing hotly. D’Nel’s laugh was louder than the others combined. “That is definitely MY son! Can’t deny the superb DNA that runs through him.” I heard him boast. I looked up and refocused on our son. The preschool teachers had wanted the children to perform a play. Someone insisted on one about dragons and trolls. My son wanted to be a troll and leap from bushes to brandish a sword at a fierce dragon. But too much refreshment before the play had fueled his sudden need for release. Thinking himself truly invisible behind the mock bushes, he lowered his costume and relieved himself. Quickly pulling his costume back up, he jumped from the bushes to face the dragon, then realized he had forgotten his sword which he had placed aside quickly in his haste to relieve his pressure. He searched while the audience giggled and finally found his toy sword. He leapt from the bushes again. As he brandished his sword, it flew from his hands to clatter across the stage. Family and friends laughed again, I blushed. D’Nel smiled proudly. Our son, seeing his father smiling in his direction, thought he had performed well. He waved at the audience and smiled. The hideous troll face he wore, was not so hideous.

The hideous troll face he wore, was not so hideous. He had materialized on Te’Zsing again without setting off any alarms. Staring down at me as I slept, he placed a pale pink cabbage rose on my bedside table and then reached out to stroke my face, lovingly.

He reached out and stroked my face, lovingly. The hypospray had dulled the pain of the contractions. I drifted between sleep and reality. I felt him loosen the blankets around me and then check me closely. I heard him say “It’s nearly time. I just wish...we were....” I smiled and interrupted “It’s not your fault, D’Nel.” He smiled back and stroked my face again. “I’m so cold. And hungry.” I added mournfully. I saw him pull the blankets off himself and wrap them tightly around me, saving a few for the baby. I drifted to sleep, only to awaken when I felt him move away. I watched in the dim light as he went to the control panel of the shuttle and began to adjust our rotation. I watched as the nearest faint starlight moved slowly around to flood in through the frosted window. I felt the air begin to warm quickly. “I can’t leave us this way for long.” he explained. I nodded my understanding. He brought me a nutrient pack and told me to drink. I took one swallow and insisted he drink the rest. He refused and I explained how he needed the carbs to get through the imminent birthing and care. Knowing the wisdom in my words, he drank from the pack, though I know he didn’t drink it all. Another pain reached me, even through the strong painkiller and I groaned “He’s ready!” D’Nel grabbed the medkit laid out next to me. “I’m not a doctor.” he muttered angrily. I didn’t know if he was angry at me or his lack of knowledge on the subject.
 
I didn’t know if he was angry at me or his lack of knowledge on the subject. "But Mother, what is a Raegellan?” he asked as his hands cradled my face and held my eyes locked on his. He was determined to get an acceptable answer this time. His large black eyes twinkled in the sun’s light. I heard Zak laughing from his pilot’s seat in front of us. Our small shuttle was minutes away from landing on Raegel-Ketaurus, and the bright yellow sun was filtering through the windows, directly into our faces and my son’s eyes. “Well...A Raegellan is...a...Copani.” I explained. He immediately shook his head in denial, his young mind reasoning through the arguments. “If a Raegellan is a Copani, then he should call himself a Copani!” His shoulders shrugged at the obvious sense he had just declared.

His shoulders shrugged at the obvious sense he had just declared. I looked up from my kneeling position, adjusting my sun hat to block the glare of the sun. “What?” I asked and went back to digging in the rich humus-improved soil of my household herb garden. D’Nel began to explain the negotiations he had endured all day, explaining his recommended solution. I thought it was quite sensible and told him so. I heard him fall heavily into a garden chair and I looked up. I glanced across the back of our new home. Its thick adobe walls, gently washed with color-stain, was topped by a steep roof with state-of-the-art moisture collection system imbedded in its design. The walls, between the huge windows, were quickly filling in with my newly hybridized Acuupee vines. They were already blooming in shades of pink, a color rarely found before I played with pollen spores. I was proud of my herbal business, and knew instinctively that my best customers were going to be offworlders. They had only recently discovered the power of Draksan herbs. Having friends scattered all across the galaxy helped in advertising! “Are you listening, P’Mela?” D’Nel’s annoyance clear in his voice. I looked at him and smiled. “You are so handsome in your ambassadorial robes!” I declared. He looked away as he gulped a cold fruit juice and tried not to smile. Then he looked back at me, squinting his eyes. He stood and walked towards me. “Don’t you have employees to do this?” his hands swept out indicating the household herb garden. “You shouldn’t be doing this.” he added sweetly. He helped me to my feet and held one hand against my lower back and let his other drift across the swell of my abdomen. I loved feeling this contended. “No! I don’t have employees to work the household garden.” I explained this a dozen times before but he didn’t seem to differentiate between the household garden and the wide sweep of business gardens which began behind the pollination laboratory. “You’re doing the cooking tonight, Mr. Ambassador. Which herbs shall I gather for you?” I started back towards my garden but he frowned at me. He pulled off his colorful robes and handed them to me, and then took my small basket and herb-scissors. “Boots!” I reprimanded. I kicked off my garden clogs, aiming them towards his boots. He agilely sidestepped them and mumbled about his ambassadorial status exempting him from abuse. But he quickly came out of his boots and socks and he rolled up his slacks. I watched as he bypassed the clogs and stepped into the rich black soil, cool with moisture. He squished his toes repeatedly, then slowly began to select the best herbs. I heard the children approaching. “Father’s home!”

“Father’s Home!” my golden toddler Te’ yelled down the hall towards me. I knew he would run towards the elegant sweeping staircase and I ran to catch him. The hallways of our palatial home were richly attired, though simple and understated compared to Zak’s parents’ palace. As a wedding present, they had given us a beautiful piece of property on the royal grounds on which to build our home. We furnished it with things we loved as well as wedding gifts. As I ran to catch my son, I passed a floor-to-ceiling mirror given to us by a great aunt of the Queen’s. I saw my reflection and stopped for a moment. I saw a pale yellow woman with large brownish-black eyes lined in lush thick lashes. My hairless head was large, smooth and perfectly rounded. “P’Mela I’m home!” I heard Zak call from below. I resumed my chase to catch Te’ and arrived in time to see him straddle the banister and slide quickly down and into his father’s arms. I started to voice my disapproval when Zak congratulated him on such superior skill. I cringed at being such an over-protective mother. As they walked up the staircase towards me, I became emotional at seeing the fatigue on Zak’s face. I turned and fled to our room. After putting his son in his playroom under the watch of a junior governess, he joined me, sitting softly on the edge of the bed next to me. I cried, keeping my face buried in pillows away from him. I heard him sigh deeply, knowing he had lived through his worst nightmare and had put it away for now. “I adore him!” I cried harder. “I know, everyone does.” he answered. “I have been so afraid with you...out there to recover him.” I turned over and stared at him through my tears. He nodded as if he understood. “And Mother Forcant, she has been sick with worry with both the King and you...out there.” My words were delivered harshly. “It was important to both of us.” he said simply. “We both wanted to escort him home, where he can be attended properly.” I wiped away my tears and glared up at him angrily. “You realize what this does? This changes everything about our future!” I saw him nod sadly. “What would have become of our son, if something happened to you?”

“What would have become of our son, if something happened to you?” I screamed at him. My hands were shaking, my body was shivering. His pale blue eyes twinkled in mischief and the arrogant smile crossed D’Nel’s face, making the small scar on his left cheek dance. He swiped his sweaty hair off his forehead and joked “You could have found another man, just like that.” he snapped his fingers once to make his point. My mouth opened, then closed. I swirled around and stormed across the wide area separating contestants from the audience. I heard him chuckling behind me and I turned in time to see his confident swagger. “Yes, I could fine another man.....” and I snapped my fingers several times in quick succession to make my point. “But I was talking about him!” and I pointed to the chubby bundle sitting under the wide canopy nearby. We could hear the senseless noises that our son chattered constantly. His toys were gathered around him, just like his aunts and cousins. Draksa’s spring sun beat down on us, still two hours from setting. I knew it had been a mistake to come here, to the ancient lava flows, during Sonjon Interplanetary Competitions! D’Nel’s smile faded a little, then beamed brightly back into place. The Fleet WarMaster Admiral was Draksan team leader, and he couldn't falter. His hands slid over my hips and he tried to kiss me. “And you stink!” I added and pushed away. He held up his gloved hands in mock surrender. But I could see the slices and cuts in the reinforced palm linings made by the control cording to the sails. I could only imagine what his skin was like beneath. “NO MORE LAVA SURFING!” I declared and turned to walk back to the canopy. D’Nel saw his family watching him and knew they heard us as well as we heard the baby’s cooing. He saw other military people and members of his Draksan team turn away to save him embarrassment. His male bravado kicked in and he shouted to us all “My third run is coming up. I plan on shaving 5 seconds off my best time!” The audience and his family cheered as he swaggered away.

His family cheered as he swaggered away. The King and Queen were cheering as loud as any, breaking with their normally cool public personas. I sat next to the Queen while Te’ sat next to his Grandfather. I had never seen the King so animated. He was enjoying pointing out particulars to Te'. I watched as Zak got back in line and soon was climbing the long ladder to the high dive once again, a sport he had garnered from his mother's interest. Te’ was overly excited by the crowds cheering for their teams. He didn’t seem the least confused by the various sizes, shapes and colors of the species attending and participating in the Alliance Competitions. Security was tight. In addition to Zak, other royals and the privileged elite from several dozen worlds were in various parts of the capital participating in different sports. I watched as he walked onto the platform and poised to dive.

I watched as he walked onto the platform and poised to dive. “Careful!” I yelled, wishing we had never built the pool. It was a luxury on a desert world. Then I cringed at being such an over protective mother. His sandy hair had been bleached nearly white by the Draksan sun. His olive complexion had deepened to a rich copper tan which showcased his “Ghar” eyes. He smiled at me. Normally resembling me, he was looking more like his father. Suddenly, he dived, my eyes squeezed closed.

My eyes squeezed closed. The strange alien guards were herding us into stale cramped cargo-haulers. “Are you Raegellan or Copani?” they asked each of us. “Copani!” every person knew to answer, regardless if it was true or not. They allowed Copani to leave but Raegellan...Raegellen were hunted down like animals my “mother” said. She was really my nanny, tasked to get me off the invaded world. Each of my sisters and my brother were sent with other nannies to sneak off on different transports. I would never see any of them again. I could feel the vibration through the floor and through my small yellow feet. I felt my nanny squeeze my shoulders reassuringly. She said softly “We’re about to see space again. Remember how all the stars twinkle on our planet? In space, they won’t twinkle. They will be solidly glowing. Are your ready?”
 
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“Are you ready?” D’Nel asked. “YES!” I declared. I felt his hand on my low back and he guided me back towards our shuttle. He had brought me out to this small deserted planet, against his better judgment, simply because I emotionally demanded to look at the property for sale. As we walked over the uneven rocky surfaces, he said “I think we should buy it. It is very much like Draksa, and a lot closer to Ch’Chock’pi than Draksa.” He had been looking for a way to appease me for our not returning to Draksa. When I found the interstellar advertisement for the desert property, he had initially argued against it. The more he argued against it, the more irrational I became. I was definitely irritable and mean spirited this late in my pregnancy! As we climbed on board the shuttle, I sniffed “I’m sorry!” He had become accustomed to my rapid mood changes. “I’ve decided D’Nel, I’m not getting pregnant again. It is too difficult on us.” I declared. His shock was apparent. Quickly recovering, he smiled charmingly and said “The pregnancy has been quite easy on me.” and rubbed his flat abdomen. I thought he was mocking my huge figure and began to cry uncontrollably. Without further comment, he flew us off the planet and we headed back towards the commercial beacon. “The next freighter will be along within two hours. We should be back home.....” he looked sheepishly at me and corrected himself “...we should be back on Ch'Chock'pi before dinnertime.” While we waited at the beacon, we talked softly about the future. Two hours later, the freighter had not arrived, nor had we heard any communication chatter on the comm panel. “Let me see the schedule, please.” D’Nel asked politely. I reached inside my pocket and handed the folded piece of paper to him. He read it, and I saw his jaws working angrily. He forced himself to be calm and think through something before saying anything. I watched as he sent through a distress call on our short range comm. This small shuttle did not have jump engines, and required a hop on commercial freighters for longer distances. “What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling the worse was yet to come. He couldn’t bring himself to tell me and handed the schedule back to me, pointing at the timetable. I looked and didn’t see the problem. “P’Mela! Look!” he snapped angrily. I began to cry at his tone of voice and looked again. I saw it. I had misread the returning freighter schedule. It wasn’t due until this time, two weeks in the future. He snatched the schedule from me and studied it. “I’m setting a course for the next nearest commercial beacon. Putting it on constant distress call as well.” He flew silently, I cried loudly. I knew we didn't have enough cell power to get us to the next beacon. He finally stopped us halfway between commercial beacons, knowing that our distress call could reach either at this distrance. And we waited.

And we waited and we waited and we waited. Our son was in no rush to be born. Zak was furious with the royal doctors. They assured him that the baby and I were fine. His mother took him aside. She explained that as a long lived species, Copani have no fixed schedule on which to be born. Unlike other species with ‘standards’ on which to predict arrival, Copani and their offshoot races could not be so accurate, even with their advanced technology. Each child developed according to its own unique pace. She assured him that his brother Unanth had arrived two months after the doctors’ predictions. His sister Neureen had arrived nearly 3 months later than they had been predicting. Then the Queen laughed and told him “Zak’nia, you on the other hand were eager to get started and arrived a month ahead of the royal doctors’ time table“. I heard him say “It is unacceptable.”

“It is unacceptable.” I heard him say again. I look at D’Nel and then our son. “Is there a problem with the subject which bothers you?” I asked patiently. He shook his head and looked down, ashamed at his test scores. “Is there something about your teacher or the other students....” “Stop coddling him. He is not our baby any longer.” D’Nel was angry but so was I. I looked away and heard the younger say “Sorry Father.” “Please remember, I did argue against this subject selection. If you are to get into a good military university like your brother, you’d be better equipped.......” My thoughts drifted away. I realized suddenly I didn’t want our gentle son in the military. I didn’t want him to have the experiences we had. I heard our daughter scream and I leapt from the chair, running towards her screaming. “Mommie, where are you?”

“Mommie, where are you?” The screaming repeated over and over and over. I searched, and dashed about madly. I heard the same scream behind and turned. A small yellow Copani girl was screaming, holding her arms out to me, her tearful black eyes pleading for me to take her into my arms and hold her. Love her. My Draksan prejudices made me recoil in horror. My heart was racing wildly, my pulse was hammering through my veins.




P’Mela sat up in bed. Her sweat soaked pajamas clung to her. She stared, wide eyed around her quarters. She began to shiver, her teeth chattered, but not from cold. She pulled her legs up tightly, wrapping her arms around them protectively. Disconnected images flashed behind her eyes. Her head was pounding and she shivered harder. Suddenly, she climbed from the luxurious bed and slipped on a thick robe from the nearest closet. Not bothering with shoes, she dashed from her room, running the corridor to the junction leading to the lower deck. Her feet pounded across the decking as she ran for the medical facilities. The automatic door opened and she ran into D’Nel’s room, straight for his bedside. She stared down at him. He was softly illuminated by the dim lights on the medical displays and monitors.

Stepping away quickly, she pulled the most comfortable chair from across the small space and pushed it tightly against his bedside. She snuggled into the deep chair, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around tightly. Her eyes stared, her mind unthinking, her body shivering. She reached over and slipped her small hand into D’Nel’s larger warmer one and felt him automatically squeeze back. Her eyes darted to him as he rolled over towards her. In his deep sleep, his other hand stretched out and fell to a rest on her shoulder. She tilted her head until she felt her face rest against his hand. Eventually, her shivering stopped, her muscles began to relax. Her pale blue eyes drifted slowly back to sleep, this one undisturbed by dreams and nightmares.
 
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Under the influence of the painkillers I slipped back into distant memories…our plans worked as close to perfect as reality ever gets…there were a few tense moments…heated battles…but we emerged victorious from them all…things became far more complicated with the arrival of a most unusual convoy…

“Convoy in visual range Captain.” The sensor technician called out from her station near the THD. This convoy was unusual for several reasons. It was moving in secret. It had far fewer escorts than it should have possessed. Lastly, the ships were much larger than the ships the Noble Houses typically used for their secret convoys.

“Put them on screen. Let’s have a closer look at our new friends.” I studied the ships appearing on our main display and instructed the view be zoomed in on several of the ships. They all bore the proper identification makings for several of the larger shipping consortiums on their hulls, but something about the ships seemed wrong. When the viewer focused in on the largest ship I realized what we were seeing. “Helm, bring us right alongside that ship. I want to be close enough to wave at her captain through one of the viewports.”

The helmsman acknowledged my order and began maneuvering or cloaked battleship through the convoy. Surl muttered something beside me about friends who took pleasure in shorting his life expectancy. I considered taking pity on him and letting him in on my secret, but decided it would be more fun to surprise him. The helmsman brought us to a distance just outside the range the collision warning sensors would begin sounding and masterfully held our relative position to the cargo vessel. The ship was nearly as long as the Sonjon Glory and was beautifully maintained.

“Surl-Than, please make sure our shields are up and drop the cloak. Open a channel to the ship as soon as the cloak is down.” Several of the bridge crew exchanged concerned looks, but Surl barely sighed. He probably suspected what would happen next. The cloak dropped and I turned to my comm screen. “This is the Imperial Fleet Ship Sonjon Glory, stand to you wretched piratical bilge rats and prepare to be boarded!”

The effect on the ships of the convoy was dramatic. Hidden weapon ports slid open on nearly ninety percent of the supposed merchant vessels and the spaces between them were suddenly swarming with Broadsword deepspace fighter craft. The ship beside us shimmered on the viewscreen for an instant as someone began to raise the shields, but the captain was quick to issue an order to the contrary before the shields were raised.

“Incoming signal Captain.”

“Put it on the main screen please Lieutenant.” I straighten my uniform and sat back in my command chair as the image changed and refocused on the main screen. A beautiful, and unmistakably furious, Draksan woman several years older than I was stared back at me.

“D’Nel Abahai Ghar I am going to flay your miserable Draksan hide and have it mounted in my stateroom and I am on the main screen in front of you entire bridge crew you little brat?” The other captain’s torrent of words stopped long enough for me to realize she was waiting for an answer.

“Ah…yes…actually you are.”

“Very well.” The signal went dead and my bridge crew turned as one to look at me.

“My older sister. She will be calling back momentarily.” The comm officer looked at me in surprise as he received the incoming hail. I motioned for him to put the image back on the main screen.

“Sonjon Glory, this is Imperial Fleet Ship Silver Song, Captain Ch’Ryl Ghar commanding. On behalf of my crew allow me to thank you for that lovely demonstration of the effectiveness of the experimental cloaking shield. We all have a much better appreciation of what this technology can be used for if it falls into the wrong hands.” My sister smiled charmingly out at my bridge crew to let them know she bore them no animosity. She smiled at me as well, the smile of a sister who could be just as mischievous as her younger brother. “If you are through conducting your drills, Captain Ghar, it would be my pleasure to have you and your Appian liaison over for dinner in my stateroom.”

“That would be marvelous Captain Ghar. In an hour’s time?”

“In an hour’s time.” My sister smiled warmly at me. “It is good to see you D’Nel.”

“It is good to see you again as well Ch’Ryl.”

As I feared, Ch’Ryl entertained Surl all through the formal Draksan dinner with tales of my exploits as a child. She also provided him with a detailed list of every woman with whom I had ever been involved. It was an amusing, if often embarrassing, evening.

Before we left matters became serious. Ch’Ryl had been ordered to take charge of patrolling the areas to either side of the border with Appian space. My Alae was to new duties in a region of space being opened for mass colonization. The region was technically part of Appian space, but had been abandoned by them toward the end of their civil war. As far as anyone on Ch’chockpi knew the region had never been colonized.

It struck me as curious that most of the worlds the Colonization Service was settling were agg worlds. It seemed odd that so many agricultural specialists would be available for colonization duty…
 
D’Nel was still in his deep recovering sleep with P’Mela asleep next to his bed when Te’Zsing activated a display near her. “P’Mela, please wake. We have a problem.” A few moments later he raised the volume of his voice and repeated.

She stretched and yawned “What’s the problem?”

“After sending your return messages to the Command Sergeant, I returned to course, as ordered. We are a little over 1 standard hour away from Makmadi, but...there is another ship in orbit.” His voice sounded as if he were holding back judgment on something.

“Only one?” P’Mela laughed. “After Chahan, I thought we’d find another group of Growlers or at least a Sonjon Alae, defense platforms....”

“None of those! Just one Auroran science exploration ship.” Te’Zsing sounded astonished by his own message. “I can’t actually pick it up on any of my regular sensors, however.”

“Then how do you know its there?”

Te’Zsing sighed, the sound was strange coming from his normally confident voice. “It is sending out a transponder signal as required by the Neutral Space Agreement.” P’Mela was surprised. It had been one of the most important stipulations of the agreement, but none of the powers were known for obeying it. Each of them had been guilty of sending ships into others’ space, cloaked and with transponder off.

“How is it identifying itself?” she asked as she stepped up to the display. “Show me the message it is sending.” In standard Sonjon, the message read Auroran Science Exploration Ship, Ped’Lam, in orbit around Makmadi, j’Son’jon Agriculture Planet #45678. We are not armed and have only civilians and non-combatants onboard. The message kept repeating over and over without stopping. “Thanks for the translation, Te’Zsing. I don’t rea....”

“I didn’t translate. It is being sent in Sonjon Standard.” Te’Zsing interrupted. “It is transmitting on a very low level, just enough to prevent another ship from colliding with it. I only discovered the signal moments ago.”

“Alert Surl-Than, and ask him to meet me on the bridge in 30 minutes. Tell him we’re going to battle alert. I doubt it is a science ship there.”

“But if they were hostile, surely they would not be transmitting at all.” Te’Zsing countered.

“You heard me!” P’Mela’s voice hardened, letting him know that time for discussion was over. She quickly checked D’Nel’s pulse and the medical monitors. He was still in a deep sleep, and probably would be for several more hours. Quickly, she kissed him on the forehead and ran from the room to her quarters. She took the quickest shower of her life and slipped on the special jumpsuit worn under armored suits. She was on the bridge in record time but Surl was there and already looking prepared. She cursed under her breath.


“Have you reviewed the situation?“ she asked the Appian.

“Yes. Perhaps they have crossed the Auroran -j’Son’jon frontier by accident. We are less than half a parsec from the demilitarized zone.” he offered an explanation she had not considered.

She shook her head “There were far too many beacons for them to accidentally cross the frontier. Plus, if they thought they were in Auroran Space, they wouldn’t be sending their weak transponder code in Sonjon Standard!”

He tilted his head slightly to indicate he agreed.

“Te’Zsing, we are well within sensor range now. What are you getting?” she asked.

“No sensor readings at all!” he sounded annoyed. “Doing self diagnostics.”

“I have heard rumors of their technology, some so advanced that our cloaks are archaic.” Surl offered.

P’Mela looked up at the tall Appian and said proudly “I would put Te’Zsing up against anybody.”

Surl slowly pivoted and looked down at her “Arrogance will not change the basic facts, WarMaster General. If it is a science ship, then what do you plan to do? And if it is a warship of some kind, Te’Zsing may be terribly over matched. I would advise caution.”

Her hands went to her hips and he saw her foot patting angrily. “If it is a science ship, then we’ll escort it back to the frontier and make damned sure it goes home!” she snapped.
 
“Te’Zsing, reconfirm your previous readings.” P’Mela spoke softly from the Appian shuttle as if someone might hear her.

With Te’Zsing unable to get any sensor readings off the Auroran Science Ship, Surl and P’Mela decided to make a close pass for actual visuals. Osala was piloting the shuttle as they passed around the perimeter. The Appian shuttle was also unable to get sensor readings off the Auroran vessel. With navigation sensors unable to see the ship, Osala was flying based exactly on what her eyesight was conveying. She was a fine pilot.

“Confirmed, Only 12 life-signs. All are on the planet Makmadi “ Te’Zsing’s voice seemed incredulous that anything as large as P’Mela said this science vessel was, was still resisting his attempts at scanning.

“You have no problems detecting them and their shuttles on the planet surface?” P’Mela asked again, she was as incredulous as Te’Zsing.

“None. They do not appear to be aware of our arrival in orbit either.” Te’Zsing knew her next question before she could formulate it.

Osala finished the first complete revolution of the vessel and began to pull in closer. Surl and P’Mela had studied the exterior of the strange ship through their shuttle viewport as Osala moved them carefully around the ship. “It’s so beautiful!” P’Mela sighed from the viewport. “I was recently on a planet called Earth. They have things called conch seashells. This ship looks almost exactly like a conch! Even the pale iridescent colors undulating through it are phenomenal.” Surl and Osala looked at each other.

“I don’t see any color other than a blurry white and some shades of gray.” Surl said matter of factly.

“In fact, I don’t think I can get much closer, WarMaster General.” Osala announced. “As I have gotten closer, I am having more trouble determining distance from it. All I see is a blurry bright white, and a few grays. I think the grays are shadows created by the bays and hatches.”

P’Mela’s head snapped around to look at them, and saw the seriousness written on their expressions. “You don’t see the spiraling affect or the protrusions? Nor the pale colors running like veins throughout the surface?”

“No, I do not.” Osala reiterated strongly.

P’Mela looked out of the viewport again and gasped “One-quarter reverse power!” Osala reacted immediately and the shuttle vibrated as it quickly reversed course. “All stop! Since I can see the surface, I will pilot this close in.” she announced. Reluctantly Osala slipped from her seat to let the petite Draksan slide in. Adeptly, she took the controls. P’Mela looked over to Surl, seeing his fingers steepled in front of his lower jaw which rested against his large hands. As he looked around to her, she raised her eyebrows. He clicked his jaw in a half-laugh and said “Agreed, we board it, but I lead and we go in heavily armed.”

P’Mela then glanced over her shoulder at Osala and raised her eyebrows. The large powerful female nodded once and answered “Unless someone knows Auroran Standard, I think we won’t get through the docking bay. I did see some type of hatch further along the spine which may be some type of disposal hatch. That should prove easy to blast through.”

Sitting back in her seat, P’Mela sighed in disbelief “You want me to go through some else’s garbage to get inside?”

“It may be more than simple garbage, P’Mela. It could be sewage.” Surl added quickly.

“WHAT?” P’Mela’s mouth was wide open as she stared at him. “You want me to go through alien piss and sh......”

“Unless you prefer to blast through the docking bay with the torpedoes, thus alerting the ground crew to our presence onboard their ship. We can not see it on our sensors, but no doubt they can with theirs!” Surl looked at the Draksan female, seeing her shiver at thought of crawling through alien waste products. But she had done it before. A warrior does what is necessary to gain surprise on the enemy. It just wasn’t her first choice in options.

A light cough came across the comm from Te’Zsing. P’Mela realized he had been listening and was trying to resist laughing at the thought of her crawling through unmentionable things. “I read....and speak....Auroran Standard.” he said proudly. It came as a surprise to P’Mela. She didn’t realize he had that complex of a language protocol. She was always learning something new about her own ship.

As she maneuvered back towards the docking bay, P’Mela said to Surl “While at the Sonjon Military Academy, I studied various languages. But Auroran wasn’t offered. The instructors said it was filled with phoneme approximations, syntactic fade, genderbend, and a complete recontextualization of the linguistic structure. Not to mention the hideous nature....”

“Did anyone ask the instructors to translate their own language?” Surl asked sarcastically.

P’Mela laughed and agreed that’s what she had thought as well. Surl knew a little Auroran from his time with D’Nel on the frontier. But he didn’t know enough to feel comfortable getting them onboard a sophisticated ship like the one before them. Surl was impressed as P’Mela used the softest touches on the thruster controls and moved them within centimeters of the docking bay. “Can you see the control mechanism?” Surl asked Te’Zsing. Suddenly the locking mechanism jolted back out of place and the large round door on the Auroran ship rolled open. The occupants of the shuttle all gasp in amazement. “How did you do it so rapidly?” Surl asked.

“I transmitted ‘Open‘ in Auroran.” Te’Zsing voice sounded infused with amusement. He would never admit to them, it came as a complete surprise to him when it worked.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” P’Mela asked sarcastically. She watched the ‘bulkheads’, if they could be called that, of the alien ship slowly pass as the shuttle moved inside. The large space held 3 Copani type shuttles and clearly had 2 spots open. They did not appear to be armed, nor ready for takeoff. As soon as the rear of their shuttle passed the control, the bay began to close behind them. “Are we getting any sensor readings now?” P’Mela asked.

Surl looked quickly at all the soft surfaces and was annoyed “None.”

“Te’Zsing, what are you getting from our shuttle sensors? We’re inside now.” When Te’Zsing failed to answer after a second request, she realized they had lost the link to her ship. Something on this ship was blocking everything easily, She said cheerily “Then we do this the old fashioned way - reconnoiter.”

They finished suiting up quickly, agreeing that there must be some people still on board if there were unused Copani shuttles. “Unless they are backups.” Osala was thinking out loud.

Since she was feeling nauseated again, P’Mela added 2 nutrient packs into her suit’s liquid reservoir. She quickly drank a third pack before donning the helmet. Once their weapons were on and ready, they stepped out, and into the strangest environment she had ever seen.
 
With their assault rifles ready for anything, and each one in cloak but seeable with their special visors, Surl led through the bay towards what appeared to be a door. It was symmetrical and unlike the natural looking surfaces of the rest of the cavernous space. It was eerie that no one manned the docking bay with people off the ship. Perhaps all the people were off the ship. As they came within a few centimeters of the door, it slid open. “Motion detectors.” Surl stated into his helmet-comm for the mission record.

They stepped through the door and P’Mela softly breathed “Incredibly beautiful!” Stretching out for as far as she could see was a corridor that seem to softly undulate and curve away. The walls were the same natural type of construction like the docking bay ‘bulkheads’. The walls seem full of artwork. She could see doorways, again unlike the rest of the surfaces, and seem to have been added as an afterthought. Looking down, she counted 12 small colored stripes running parallel to each other, until the first corridor split ahead. Some went off in all directions while others stayed straight.

Surl moved his helmet constantly and P’Mela knew he was directing the recorder lenses, just in case it did “see” the inside. As he led the way, slow and steady, they approached the first of the doorways. The door did not open automatically when they stepped in front of it. Along side the door, there were 5 short columns of hieroglyphic style writing. Most in bright red, there were some in other colors. Osala, the closest, pointed with her gloved hand, seeing the other two nod.

They moved on further along the corridor and approached the door on the opposite side of the hall. P’Mela saw the 5 rows of writing again, but this time the door opened automatically. They stepped through. “OH MY GODS OF OLDEN!” P’Mela gasped into the comm link. The 3 stood and stared through the room and out through the walls. Space was before them and they could see the planet outside appearing to revolve around them.

P’Mela started to step closer and Surl pulled her back. His finger shook “no” at her, and he slowly went forward. The curved wall was completely clear as glass, floor to ceiling. Surl approached slowly, and then tentatively reached out to touch with his fingertips. Finally, he laid his entire hand against it. “Firm. I’m not getting any readings on my sensor display.” he concluded.

P’Mela looked around and realized what they were in. “Galley, I think.” she muttered. This close to the docking bay, it would make sense that pilots and staff would need some place while boarding or offloading. Tables and strange chairs surrounded them. Storage was efficiently built into the interior walls leaving the exterior wall for the space view. They turned back towards the door and again stopped in mid step. The wall that they couldn’t see through, was completely clear from this direction. They could see down the corridor to the door they had passed or to the doors further on. As they stepped back through the door, they saw their vision was still blocked from the other side. P’Mela softly dictated what they were seeing.

They walk a way and were approaching a split in the corridors. “I suspect the 12 colored lines mean different functional areas.” P’Mela softly spoke.

“What 12 lines?” Surl asked.

“On the floor. Twelve of them.” P’Mela saw both he and Osala look around, front and backwards.

“I count 5 lines.” Surl said.

“As do I.” Osala confirmed.

P’Mela stooped as much as she could in the bulky suit and used the tip of the rifle to touch against each stripe, starting on the left “Bluish-green sort of, dark-blue, reddish-orange, deep red, black, a dark violet type color....”

“I don’t see anything after the black line.” Surl announced, he sounded annoyed.

“The first line, you said looks bluish-green?” Osala half said and half asked. “I see a plain green color.”

“Did you see the 5 columns of hieroglyphs next to each of the doors previously?” P’Mela asked.

“Saw only 3.” Surl said and Osala nodded. “Curious, D’Nel and I have never discussed sight differences before. I was unaware that we see in different color spectrums.” What they didn’t know is that there were actually 17 lines on the floor, and far more artwork on the walls that P’Mela couldn’t see as well.

They moved on but as they stood in the junction of the split corridors, P’Mela staggered and slumped against the nearest wall for support. With their backs to her, they didn’t see her. She quickly drank her nutrient and stood, forcing herself to close her eyes against the vertigo. Slowly, she felt her stomach level out and opened her eyes again. But when she looked down any of the branching corridors, she got the same overwhelming physical vertigo and nausea. Surl and Osala were discussing which corridor to try and whether to split up. Finally realizing she wasn’t in the conversation, Surl turned to look at her. She looked up, trying to straighten, but the entire area was spinning drunkingly and she slumped against the wall again. Bile was thick and she drank quickly from the small tube inside her helmet.

Surl was next to her in an instant. “Nauseated?” he asked. When she nodded, he cursed in Appian and Osala answered in Appian. The two seem to be arguing about something but she was becoming disoriented and even focusing was becoming difficult. Surl reached around her and pulled her up against him and turned back towards the docking back. But P’Mela pulled back and growled “no” into the commlink. He stopped and held her as he continued to argue with Osala.

“Just give me a minute. It’s the gravity I think.” P’Mela muttered thickly.

“I don’t feel anything wrong with the gravity.” Osala said angrily. Switching to Sonjon Standard, she added “We can’t leave now that we are inside. We might not get this chance again!” she was angry.

“We’re not leaving her back here alone!” Surl also switched back to Sonjon Standard.

“She is safe. No one is back here. If we detect anyone, we can hurry back.” Osala turned and headed back towards the split in the corridor.

“I can make it now.” P’Mela said as she felt herself strengthening. She stood straight and took a tentative step alone and felt fine. As she approached the split in corridor, she felt the onslaught again but this time she was prepared and fought it. It took several long moments, but she knew she could adjust. “I do feel a slight shifting of center of gravity. Gravity is different here than it was at the first door.”

Surl was clearly still conflicted but nodded his agreement when she insisted they go on. He chose to take the left corridor rather than going straight. As they moved on, P’Mela felt gravity shifting back to the way it had been and felt better instantly. They were following the gentle curve of the wall and had not seen a door in a while. Suddenly, an entire network was before them. The door on the right did not auto open. P’Mela stared at it. Something was different about it than the others. She couldn’t decided what was different and finally moved to the next.

As the previous door, it did not open either. Staring at the heiroglyphic writing, she muttered frustratingly “I wish this was in Sonjon Standard!” She glanced back at the writing and it had changed to Sonjon Standard. “Surl! Look at this.” He quickly made his way to her side and she pointed. “I swear it was in the hieroglyphs before.” She sounded upset and he knew she was worried that her bout of vertigo was affecting her judgment.

As an experiment, he said “Appian Standard” but the writing didn’t change. He looked at her but clearly the writing before them was in Sonjon Standard. After a moment’s thought, he realized he had said ‘Appian Standard’ in Sonjon. He switched to his native language and repeated “Appian Standard.” Instantly the writing twirled itself around and displayed itself in Appian.

“Draksan Standard.” P’Mela said quickly in her native tongue and watched the writing adjust itself. She heard Osala and Surl chuckling behind her as she reached up and lightly touched the writing with her fingertips. “It says.....”

“DANGER. BIO HAZARD. Unidentified pathogen. Ask for whatever language you wish. They will display for what the room is used.” a beautiful lilting voice came from behind them. They pivoted rapidly with their assault weapons raised to fire. “Surely my Sonjon Standard is not so poor you must point weapons at me.” the hideous creature said. The tingling sound that followed reminded them all of a shy laugh.
 
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“He sees us, even with cloak engaged!” Osala said anxiously.

The creature made a sound like a gentle breeze through crystal wind chimes. It sounded vaguely like a giggle this time. “I see you almost as well as you see me. I could see you better without those awful space suits.” he answered and started to take a step towards them. Their weapons snapped tightly as they prepared to fire at him. He stopped and slowly held out his hands. The three of them noticed his petite hands, not much larger than a child’s. On each hand were 3 long fingers and an opposable thumb. Between the fingers was a delicate lace webbing, appeared to be vestigial.

“I am unarmed. As our message indicated, we are civilian non-combatants.” Slowly he lowered his hands and then brought them to his face. He place them tightly together and let the thumbs rest against the long slope of his skull. His face was longish and flat, gently rising to a flat skull. His eyes were high on each side of his skull. The pupils were black against a gray background. After a moment, he began to lower his hands and let his fingertips brush across the snout. “I am called Jahnno, and this is our homes and places of scientific research. We call it Ped’Lam.” His arms then spread wide as he indicated the ship. “And you are?” he inquired politely.

“We are j’Son’jon representatives and here to escort you back to Auroran space.” P’Mela stated firmly.

The creature wished he could see what they looked like. He had never personally seen a Sonjon and, as any good xenobiologist, he wondered. “Please, our mission here is critical to our species. Can’t we discuss this? Perhaps our science mission here would be of interest to you as well.” Jahnno was looking for any excuse to keep them onboard. His curiosity was piqued.

“What is your critical mission here, insideSonjon space?” Surl demanded to know.

The creature’s eyes moved to focus on the one speaking. His face didn’t move more than a centimeter. “We have traced a particularly virulent pathogen back to this agricultural world. It is affecting my people and all we wish to do is find a cure or immunization against it. Please, let us sit comfortably and discuss.” He shifted his feet and turned partially, his hand swept back behind him. “My office is near.” he pleaded, his voice soft and delicate and musical in nature.

“Stay where you are!” P’Mela demanded. She heard something else in the background, some type of noise that was growing rapidly. “Do you hear that Surl?”

“Yes.” he pivoted and turned towards the opposite direction. “Its coming from the way we came.” Osala had turned and was ready with her weapon locked on. The noise grew rapidly and suddenly a scream pierced the air.

“It’s only our children rushing out of their classrooms for the day!” the Auroran screamed and rushed past them to get on the other side. Surl snapped his weapon to the male and then back towards the sounds.

P’Mela turned quickly as Jahnno rushed past her. She shouldn’t have. The suddenly movement caused the return of her vertigo and the area spun around. Lights faded and flared and faded again. She felt a hot flash across her skin. The last thing she remembered was falling towards the lines on the floor.
 
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