443. One Year Ago

One year ago, the crew of Bravo had their first karaoke night before Yul headed to hospital and Kyra embarked on the ill-fated rescue mission--the first time since leaving Hyneria the crew would be separated. On the anniversary of that occasion and the eve of another mission into harm's way, the crew again has gathered with shot glasses eight (plus three) and song. Rog took the mic first, hair long and with guitar (don't ask), and looked over the crowd as a single spotlight held him as in suspended animation. With everyone's attention, he nodded to Von, and as the music started to play, looked at Yul and said, "Breathe out."





Lyrics: Everlong (Foo Fighters)

Hello
I've waited here for you
Everlong

Tonight
I throw myself into
And out of the red, out of her head she sang

Come down
And waste away with me
Down with me

Slow how
You wanted it to be
I'm over my head, out of her head she sang
Chorus-

And I wonder
When I sing along with you (Yul is singing along here--in a world of her own)
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again

The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
Verse 2-

Breathe out
So I could breathe you in
Hold you in

And now
I know you've always been
Out of your head, out of my head I sang
Chorus-

And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again

The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
Chorus-

And I wonder
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again

The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang

His sweaty visage came to rest and his eyes found hers as a king finds his queen across a crowded court. Yul looked like a doe, standing in a pool of joy, blue rivers running from her fawnish glossy eyes. Her melanic leathered chest heaved as a balloon about to burst before she remembered--breathe out. From darkness to light, with a canorous quiver of lip, she spoke through the haze, her words riding a hush in the room like a cool breeze, "I promise." And in the space of a snapshot, time paused.

442. Together and Alone

The door opened and weary smile greeted weary smile, bodies moving as if floating down a river as they entered the bedroom. From across the wooden floor, a tired heart, lying alone, watched what appeared to be shapes, hues muted, one large and one small, come forth as silver angels. She could not speak and nodding her head was a herculean task. As if with all her might, she moved her head as one might move a boulder blocking life from death and within a face hardly recognizable two eyes looked with a love that induced three sets of tears. Her right hand began to tremble, the effort to lift against the force of nature and gravity too great, and as a plane too heavy to launch powers down, her hand exhaled and laid still, her eyes filled with (urgency) failure . . .

"Kyra, it's time. The others will be waiting."

"On my way Rog."

Kyra wiped her eyes and on bended knee bowed her head and wiped a few more.

Papa stood behind Kyra, his weathered hands on her small shoulders. "I love you Grand," she whispered, her tiny hand reaching out and where there was cold a warmth radiated and skin white became flush. Grand tried to speak. Her lip quivered as her eyes looked down upon a gift bestowed by Janus himself. Kyra turned her head to Papa, and with his thumb, wiped away a tear pure. "The great river of life Kyra. We all journey together and we all journey alone." As if cradling a pillow to his torso, he held her head within his hands, his white tunic wet with love. "Your Grand loves you too."

441. A Thousand Wishes

Ariel stood on a small stool behind Em, silver brush in hand, her small hand stroking as if pulling cotton candy, her blue eyes about as wide as if she were. "Emy, you know what I did this morning?"

"Tell me my little angel. What did you do this morning?"

"I held my last willow flower and I blew you a thousand wishes."

"Whatever did you wish for?"

"That your heart would smile again." Ariel kept brushing as if the wishes were matter of fact. Then added, "You know what?"

"What?"

"My wishes always come true."

Em turned and wrapped her arms around Ariel.

"Emy?"

"Yes."

"I can't breathe."

Em started laughing. "I'm so sorry, but that is about the sweetest thing anyone has done for me."

Ariel poked Em in the shoulder and declared: "See."

"What? What do you see?"

"It's working!"

Giggle revolved around smile like a lacquered primrosed filly around a merry-go-round, each the world to the other within the moment of a ride on a thousand wishes.

440. Take Your Time

"You wanted to see me?" asked John.

"Come in, grab a seat," said Kyra.

"I just wanted to say thanks--"

"Save it. I've got one question and you've got one chance to tell the truth or I will mind-frail you with rusted nail pleasure before jettisoning your sorry Kulmykian carcass out the garbage chute all the while telling Ariel you abandoned her for another child you loved more. Am I making myself clear?"

"Say what you got to say."

"What the frail did you know and when did you know it?"

"Concerning?"

"The frailing Dyad."

"It's complicated."

"Damn it John, no it's not."

"Yes it is."

"The truth is never complicated."

John sighed.

"And don't roll your frailing puppy dogs eyes."

"Look, I'm not proud of every choice I made and the world is not as black and white as you'd like to think."

"From a distance everything is gray. I'm not interested in what you think is in your nescient head. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Kyra could see that he didn't.

"Your heart. Open it. You've got one chance."

John looked slapped.

"I've got all day. Take your time."

__________

ed note: the following chapters will provide some background on this chapter. Start with the bottom link and work up. The question at hand is, What did John know about the original distress signal from the Dyad and what did he do about it and why. John has never been completely forthcoming on this matter and with the information Zoe has supplied, new information about what happened to the Dyad, much to John's chagrin, the questions have resurfaced.

Understood
The Order of Merit
Its Hynerian
Bury It

439. As a Jeweled Crown

Papa led her through the roric grass to the edge of the river. With both hands, as if holding a pillow upon which laid a jeweled crown, he gently placed the floating candle in the shallow water. He handed Kyra his torch, her young face illuminated like a member of a midnight choir, and nodded. Together they held hands, said a prayer, and with eyes sparkling like the moonlight off the water, pushed the lighted flower candle into the eternal flow of the river. Grand would forever live in their hearts he told her as they watched the candle fade from view on the gentle warm current.

438. Golden Pegasus

John tucked Ariel in bed. By request, he told the story of the golden pegasus, as he had the night before and for several nights before that as well, with the same enthusiasm as if telling it for the first time. Likewise, Ariel listened with rapt attention and joyful animation as if she did not know every twist and turn in the story, of how her father had met her mother. In a simple bedtime ritual, father and daughter found reprieve, however slight, however unacknowledged, from a reality that followed them both as faithfully as shadows in a cloudless sky.

437. Ocular Symbiosis

Em sat, back straight and tongue silent, a posture defiant or embarrassed could not be said. Dr X examined first the left eye and then the right, reviewing the data twice before entering a few notes into his slate.

+I'm not going to ask you any questions.+

Em remained silent of tongue and thought. She could feel his warm honeysuckle presence sitting gently within her mind, thankful he was not probing.

+You don't have to say or think anything. You've done no damage, but I will need to replace your bandages and we will need to wait a few more days to allow symbiosis to root. If you believe in Janus, a prayer or two wouldn't hurt.+

Em nodded.

Dr X secured the final bandage. He placed his hand on hers. +If you prematurely remove the bandages again, you'll risk ever seeing again. Do you understand?+

+Thank you Dr. Am I free to go?+

+Always.+

436. Eternal Smile

Kyra stood before the far wall of her quarters, her melanic leathered back to the silently twinkling cosmos, and ran her right hand softly over grand's illuminated quilt, the brooch held like a precious jewel in the open palm of her left.

"I miss you grand."

Kyra, leaning forward, nested her porcelain cheek against the very fabric woven in the hands of grounded love as images of grand's eternal smile, of papa holding her in his arms, of the good times at Valla, played before her mind like an old family movie projected on the bare wall might.

"May you be in the arms of papa tonight."

435. Posse in the Rain

Yul with pen . . .

I want to feel the warmth of your bow ply the waters of my eternal creation. I want to hear a passion atavistic, naked, raw, and taste the fruit of your labor as sincere as the salt in ocean spray; your arms rooted beside me as strapping mature oak, your contracting torso thoroughbred smooth and lean, and from the plunging anchor (bower) of your loins I feel as the depth of the sea, consuming that which is driven by that which is divine. My hips slap your hips like undulating midnight waves, warmth smacking warmth, as shadows dance under a full moon with sand in places sand shouldn't be. My mind crashes as surf upon heated whey as my fingers bury into your coaming delts. I . . .

Rog walked in his quarters, looked at Yul and then looked again. "Whatcha doing?" His tone abnormally flat.

"Nothing," said Yul, quickly putting away pen and paper.

"Nothing, huh."

"Yeah, nothing. What's up?"

"Von and Zoe. You should see the two of them. Or is it three of them. Like an old farmer who finds he's got one more Kawai than he thought and is afraid to ask for fear of it all being taken away."

"Hey Rog."

"Yeah baby?"

"Shut the frail up and come sit by me."

"Not now." Rog wasn't smiling.

Standing, Yul unzipped the front of her leather jacket, arched her feline back and tilted her head with eyes like saucers. Rog didn't budge. "Baby, is there something I need to know?" asked Yul, on the edge of a non manipulating pout.

"You could say that."

"Well?"

"Well, our little pregnant friend gots more to say than just a few warm fuzzy reminisces for an old hynerian."

Yul zipped up her jacket.

Rog dipped his head, his eyes looking as if from under a hat in the rain, a look Yul couldn't quite remember seeing before. Then he spoke as a ranger gathering a posse might. "Secure your shiott. We're heading back to Kulmyk and we ain't on no frailing rescue mission."

Yul paused. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"I just did."

434. Ring of Confusion

Trev sat alone in his quarters, the silence framed by the heartbeat in his ear, his eyes open but not seeing. His skin felt tight and his breathing labored, as if a heavy suffocating cloak of depression had rolled into his quarters like dense fog off a nocturnal humid moor. Thought of running ran thought his mind, but in space, on a small vessel like Bravo, there was nowhere to run; and, besides, what needed running from was neither here nor there but a dark place within, a wound neither dressed nor healed, a closet within his psyche he had avoided. Within that closet, however, was a throb, persistent as a drip, a steady beat beyond his hands to quiet, relentless as war drums on the distant plain.

Standing, his muscles felt like rubber bands such that every movement met resistance. Even the thought of crawling back in bed took on a monumental feat as if he were asking himself to embark on an epic journey. She was beautiful, she was pregnant and she was out of his league. And then, there was Em. His commed buzzed. He let it be as it vibrated off the nightstand like some giant over-caffeinated insect. He turned out the lights with a wave of his hand and sat his chair before the magnificent window of his quarters, starlight bathing him in cool tones, and from a distance, he looked like a statue. Quiet as a mouse before the cat, the ring sat the floor with a glint to match the owner of the hand above, its cold metal a reflection of the lost heart within the confused chest of a young hynerian.

ed note: Trev had intended this ring to go with this dress.

433. Hand in Hand

Zoe talked. Von listened. Hours became as seconds. No detail was trivial. No utterance without value. Then she said what she said that for Von was more than his blurry eyes could contain.

Zoe: I once asked him how he managed, managed to remain so bright and positive in the real likelihood we would never find you. You know what he said?

Von: (Shook his head)

Zoe: He put his hands on my shoulders, and with eyes as big and clear as mountain lakes, said: Where there is love, there is my father. So everyday, I look for love and everyday my father and I walk hand in hand.

432. All the Time

Von sat dog loyal next to his son's coffin, his face ashen with a dusting of unshaved beard upon jowls long. His aged left hand, skin like elephant hide, veins as serpentine rivers blue as watered milk, rested upon the poppy-red ceramic enclosure and his right hand upon the rubious insignia adorning the book of letters. Lids heavy draped his eyes as sacred vestments such that from a distance it was hard to tell who was dead and who was alive.

"How much longer is he gonna just sit there?" asked Rog, standing with Kyra outside chapel.

"Long as he needs."

"Has Zoe spoken yet?"

"Yep."

"Von know?"

"Nope."

"You gonna tell him?"

"Nope."

"I'd think he'd wanna know."

"You think?"

Rog made his Rog face.

"Look. I don't think it needs to come from either you or me."

"Well, I think you're--"

Kyra looked over Rog's shoulder and nodded. Rog turned (head then eye), his reflective eyes brighter than before with the image of Zoe, her metallic golden hair looking electric, the highlights whiter than permalba white. She walked like a newborn filly, her knees looking like they would give at any moment, suspension aftereffect or girth of child or both didn't matter, for when she wobbled upon the fall, Rog did what Rog did best--act before thinking. (Yul made me say that)

Zoe tried to smile as Rog held her right arm and Kyra her left. Together they walked her into the chapel and before the grandfather of her child to be. Von opened his languid eyes, looked at Zoe, then Kyra who nodded, then back to Zoe, who's eyes looked as refulgent dams before the hynerian she knew and the hynerian she longed to embrace.

Von stood, his voice as distant rolling thunder, his tone as the cool breeze before a rain. "You knew my son?"

Zoe spoke as if before a magistrate. "Yes. I knew your son."

"And my son knew you," said Von, breaking eye contact. (for Jenni--this is said as a statement, not a question ;-)

"He lives within me," replied Zoe, her delicate hand traversing the equator of her joy.

Von's head seemed to float and his eyes became like suns breaking above the clouds. "Give me your hand." Zoe did. Von looked upon the ring as one looks upon an old picture. "Did you love him?"

"I did."

"Did he love you?"

"With all his heart."

Von's gaze move from ring to eye. "Did he ever speak of me?"

Her eyes scintillating as if illuminated from within, Zoe said with undeniable firmness. "All the time."

431. Olamic Peace

Kyra ejected her cord from the dataport on the second suspension capsule with sober prejudice. Teal data flickered before her weary eye, reflecting the world entire on the inside of her curved faceplate, and then, as if in mimic, faded from view of eye if not of mind: One enclosure held Zoe, the other Ceru; one living, one olamic. Kyra turned. She could have cried. She wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere but in this private moment. Managing a solemn ecclesiastical whisper, as if the spoken word, by tone, could heal or harm, she called, "Von."

Excerpt from an interview with Kyra on earth: I felt like I was looking at the past, as if I was in a sacred cathedral lit by votive candles, a place majestic and ancient, a place I didn't belong. I wanted to change places with Von. I wanted him to see his son first, not second. I wanted him to be close, not me. To see a father viewing his son, the father alive, the son not, to know there is nothing to say, to feel that rarefied air, a mystical place, surreal, out-of-body, a place beyond language is like standing on the edge of a sunset, your feet ablaze with a white heat, your eyes drowning in the depths of the deepest ocean, your shoulders and arms as stone of ancient statues. Such was a moment I would neither trade for all the universe nor wish to ever experience again.

Von raised his hand as if to reach for what he knew would not reach back, as if the tension in the air itself could be grasped, could be held as a rope in the lightness of moments dreamed but not imagined. Kyra, standing sideways, opened her arm, her face without smile or frown, a mask to match a time where seconds were minutes and minutes were hours. Von approached, looked at Kyra. She nodded. Placing his hands on the cold clear glass, his eyes as crystals, Von leaned over, removed his helmet, and with words not heard, kissed the glass and closed his eyes. Kyra stepped aside and commed Bravo.

430. Black Blood

Em sat her bed, silent and still as a painting on the wall, Trev called away to the Dyad. With bandaged eyes, she reached for her brush and sketchpad and as a mountain stream inexorably gushes down to the valley below, pain flowed from heart to ink to paper with brush strokes short and curt. Ripping the page and tossing it like the changing wind tosses an autumnal leaf to the barren soil, she attacked the pad again with thrust and parry, ink splattering on sheets, the damage a spray of black blood on the alter of their still warm whey commerce. Again, paper ripped from moor and sent fluttering to floor as spooked quarry before the angst of hunter foul, ink drying as hope shed, forgotten, abandoned.

"Ms Em," said Pinky, "are you okay?"

Slinging another page to the floor Em pulled a rapid intake of breath through nostrils flaring white, her chest expanding as if to burst. As quickly, she exhaled, dropped her shoulders and looking exasperated, flung her brush as a dagger toward an enemy neither seen nor present. The tinny sound of hollow wood clacking unyielding metal echoed between breath heavy and hum urgent. Pinky hovered closer. "Get away from me! Get away. Please, just leave."

"Ms Em--"

"Can't you see," cried Em, ripping the bandages from her eyes. "Can't you see," pointing to her swollen eyes.

"Ms Em, please--"

"Please what?"

Pinky froze.

"Please what? What?! Look at me. These eyes. What good are these eyes. What good?"

"Ms Em, I don't understand."

"He's gone. I don't expect you to understand. How could you? You're a mechanical."

429. Numinous

Like anxious miners exploring an unknown vein, Kyra and Von starred down the aphotic hall, their headlights glassing left and right, an extension of their straining eyes. The dank corridor walls starred back as a thousand beads of condensation reflected their miniature images like the mocking eye of a giant insect. Their thermal skin suits kept them temperate, or so said the teal data floating before Kyra's iris, but warmth, or in this case, bone chilling cold, was more a function of mind than body.

Kyra nodded toward the door and Von powered his las pistol, a steady growing hum of lethality in the mausoleum quiet of nervous anticipation. Time elongated and space felt thick as muscles resisted the invisible strain of adrenalin, an ache stored by urgency for tomorrow. Kyra placed her gloved fingers on the handle and with a turn of hand quicker than Von could follow, opened the door. A dim flow of pale light enveloped Von's raised las like a gentle hand; and where violence was braced, the numinous sight before their focused eyes dissolved the fear in their minds the way a miracle bathes the darkness of heart and soul with light.

Von froze, as if an old eidolon had appeared from the halls of his worn memory, the primrose light reflecting off his faceplate like a hazy projector before his unblinking gaze. Kyra moved forward cautiously, her mind resisting what her eyes were registering. Her hand moved to her comm without conscious effort. "Rog, put Trev and Dr X on standby, now." She walked closer. Von had still not moved. Reaching out like a child for a bubble, she placed her hand on the glass enclosure. A more beautiful female Hynerian, hair golden and shimmering as summer wheat, she had never seen. Kyra plugged into the dataport, checked the feed and then checked it again. This one was alive and from all outward appearances, with child.

428. Georgic

This chapter takes place in the days before Bravo rendezvoused with Dyad.


Yul laid on her side, her arm roped over Rog's chest and her nose snuggled against his masculine neck. Her left knee anchored his torso to the bed. The clean sheets were half draped over trunk and limb with the loyalty of dog to master, quiet and warm as the backside of pelts before the fire; lazy as wine laden bellies.

Twirling the hair around his nipple with her nail, Yul whispered, "Baby, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"I know this is gonna sound funny, so promise you won't laugh."

"Ok."

"I'm serious."

"Got it. What's on your mind?"

"And don't be gettin' the big head either."

Rog rolled his head over, his eyes too close to hers to focus.

"Cause you know I can make your big head small again."

"Baby, ask your question and I'll answer as best I know how. Now what's bugging you?"

"How the hellocks can you be so unagendaed all the time?"

"Unagendaed? Is that a word?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, don't think I do."

"Ok. Let me put it this way. You have something I don't."

"Yeah."

"Shut the frail up."

Rog grinned.

"I'm trying to be serious."

"Sorry pearl, go on."

"You always say exactly what you mean."

"And?"

"Not everyone does. I don't."

Rog sat up.

"I want that. I want to be that way."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I don't know how. I want you to teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"Damn, sometimes I wonder if that head of yours is as thick as--never mind. Can you teach me how to . . ."

"How to what?"

"Just be myself." (Yul starts crying)

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"You're so damn comfortable in your own skin. Don't you see it? You're like an old pair of jeans and everyone, well almost everyone, loves you because of it. You make people feel at home, at ease, they gravitate toward you."

"I' don't know what to tell you. I'm just me."

"Shiott! That's what I'm saying. How do you do it. How are you so damn genuine all the time?"

"It's all I know, all I've ever known."

"How? How do you know this?"

Rog thought for a second. "You know, it's awful early for this kind of talk."

"I'm not letting you go. How?"

Rog rubbed his eyes to buy some time. His brain was still foggy from whatever was in that bowl. "Well, I suppose two things." Then he paused, not because he wanted to tease, but because he didn't quite know what those two things were."

"Start talking or I'm gonna to rip your nipples off."

"Alright, I'd say the first thing was my dad. He was as honest as the day is long, and on the southern reaches, during summer, believe me, the days are long. You know, I don't think I ever told you this, but there were two things that only happened once in my life. I lied; and my father whipped the living shiott out of me. I always wanted to be like my father, always wanted to have his groundedness, his broader perspective."

"Was there a connection?"

"What?"

"Between the lying and the whipping?"

"Oh, yeah. I lied to my father." Rog grinned as if lost in a memory that was funny now but not then. "Needless to say, well . . . "

"What was the second thing?"

"The animals."

"What animals?"

"The one's on our ranch. What animals were you thinking?"

"Never mind. What about the animals?"

"Well, with a Kawai, what you see is what you get. So, I suppose, growing up with Kawais, you just learn to be as you are. Never really occurred to me to be any different."

"So you're genuine because of a Kawai?"

Rog laughed. Bend over, I'll show you."

"Serious. I'm not following."

"Let me say it this way. A kawai, or any other animal for that matter, has one mode--completely honest. Its just the way they are. They love unconditionally, they trust absolutely and, like my father, they know no other way than to be who they are--to be honest. I suppose when you grow up around animals and you have a father like mine, you don't really know any other way."

Yul sat silently for a long time. "Rog?"

"What baby?"

"I want a ranch. I want animals, Kawais, lots of them."

Rog opened his arms and pulled her into him as if pulling a child from the ocean. "Me too." After a slight pause he added, "By the way, what did I snuffle?"

"Don't ask."

Before he could protest, her lips were on his and thoughts of questions were as distant as the possibility of that ranch.

427. Quietus

"The time has come. Call our brother home."

426. Caducity

Zeke cast his tired eyes to the empyrean as the Dyad silently slipped away beyond the pull of Silus. He made a few signs with his hands as the vessel winked from sight, swallowed, it seemed, by the very piceous fate calling his name. Without word, he turned and reentered his tent. Sitting alone he glanced at the empty slot on his makeshift bookshelf. If he had ever felt more alone, he could not recall the occasion.

425. Eutaxy

Zeke outlined his plan to Ceru. He would take the Dyad, and do the best he could to find Bravo. "Any questions?" asked Zeke.

"I can't leave without Zoe."

"Zeke smiled and opened his arms. "I wouldn't let you leave without her. Now go get organized and report back here when you are ready."

424. Zoetic

Kyra and Von floated into the inner decompression chamber of the Dyad, only the sound of their respirators flowing within their illuminated ears with the gentle consistency of ocean lapping shore. Data flickered before Kyra’s sapphire iris as the Dyad’s blueprints shuffled room by room, Von in tow.

John and Rog watched the monitors from the bridge of Bravo. Kyra’s heart rate exploded. Rog smashed his comm., “Kyra? Is everything alright?”

John looked at Rog, their chests constricting with the suffocating sound of static.

“Kyra!”

“Hold on Rog,” she replied. Kyra looked at the data again. They were not alone.

John tapped Rog on the shoulder and pointed to the far right of the console. Where only two life forms should have been showing, there were four. “Holy Shiott. How the hellocks did we miss that?”

“It’s your ship,” said John.

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Snazzle, get them out of there right now,” barked Rog.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t give me can’t,” said Rog.

“Rog?”

“What!”

“I think you’ll want to see this,” said Snazzle, pulling up a visual on the main screen.

John’s dry cracked lips hung open. Rog shook his swimming head. “Oh my frailing Janus.”

423. Of Love

Kyra and Von, fully suited sans helmets, stood watching the servitors at work on the Dyad's port hatch. If the vessel had power, they would have taken the pod, but there was no power and they would enter as one might an abandoned building.

"Von," inquired Kyra, "you look more calm than I'm thinking you should. Is there something you know that I don't?"

Von seemed to smile without smiling. The tic was gone and he looked ten years younger. "Fear is the absence of Love. I'm going to see my son and in my heart there is nothing but an overwhelming, overflowing Love. I feel an energy I haven't felt since we left Hyneria."

Kyra put her arm around Von and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here."

"So am I."

422. As You Command

“You wanted to see me?” asked Von, his flowing white cloak matching his closely cropped white beard and looking more the desert mystic than the peaceful Tao.

“Grab a seat,” said Kyra. Von sat, back straight, left hand rooted to his thigh, right hand unconsciously scratching his head. Kyra noticed the tic but left it unremarked. “We’ve always been direct and honest with each other. I’ve appreciated the lack of agenda in our relationship more than you know. Thank you for that.” Kyra paused, slightly unnerved with Von’s limpid unblinking eyes.

Von rose, his large frame filling the billowing white cloak like a hot air balloon. “I know that Ceru is on that vessel.” Kyra tilted her head. “And I know you want me to stay here, to be patient as you board the vessel, do your initial investigation.”

“How? How do you know that?”

Von smiled. “If the situation were reversed, I would do the same. I understand.” Von bowed his head as if to touch the divine.

“I mean, how do you know that Ceru is onboard that vessel?”

Von held his head as an eagle might on top of a mountain. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing and please forgive me if I do, but there is a bond between a father and a son that the plane of this existence cannot explain, a language not of words, a love beyond time and place.”

As if his words were the cool wind dissipating the mist, the two starred at each other in the silence of planet spying moon and as surely as moonrise reflects the light of a greater source, Von’s smile washed over Kyra as morning light to a dew laden meadow. Arms opened and the two embraced not as temporal beings separated by leather and skin but as rain to ocean.

“Von,” Kyra whispered, her arms held tightly around this back. “I want you to come with me.”

“As you command my captain.” Before Kyra could respond Von was gone, a milky way of love sparkling in his wake. Reaching out, she touched the starlight before her. A wave of warmth flooded her soul.

421. Contact

Bravo slipped through space as anonymously as the days. One week stood between them and rendezvous with the other Hynerian vessel, which all sensors said was still there, drifting tomb quiet on the solar wind. Kyra kept mainly to herself and the rest of the crew seemed caught in the somber world of their own past, guts queasy, as if about to see an old flame who had made another choice two years hence.

The Kulmykian command carrier was never heard from again. Arn, the leader of the brotherhood, seemed equal measure amazed and concerned as Kyra appeared more and more disinterested. Against John's advice, he had tried to approach Kyra. She had raised her arm and an aching coldness had penetrated his bones. His bloated tongue had refused to move. He didn't try a second time.

Rog and Yul spent most of their time in Yul's quarters. No one really noticed their absence. Em discussed her options with Dr X and he explained they could try to restore her natural sight (low probability of success) or they could use a mechanical accoutrement (high probability of success). Either way, there would be no second chance. She was recovering in her room, Trev by her side as faithful as sunrise. They would know in a couple days if the procedure worked.

Von spent his time in meditation, unable to shake a tremor that had started in his hands and had since traveled up his arm, roosting as a tic below his right eye. Like a moth to the flame, he was drawn to the vessel. And like the moth, he would fly into the fire, to be cleansed or consumed was not clear.

"Captain," intoned Snazzle, "we have visual contact."

"Thank you Snazzle. Are you able to interface with the logs?" asked Kyra.

"Yes Captain. Would you like me to play the last distress signal?"

"No, no. I'll be right there. And Snazzle. Do not notify anyone else we have those logs."

"Yes Captain."

-----------

Two years prior:

Zeke reached into his dusty rucksack. He pulled out an old ragged copy of his treatise on Luin, a work he completed in the early days of the Tao and used in training. The copy was worn and highlighted with copious notes in the margins. Standing in the still dim light, he flipped to the front page. In his own handwriting was his inscription: To Kyra, The Jewel of my Life. Below his inscription, in the handwriting of a child, she had written: My Papa wrote this.

Zeke put the book down and rubbed his eyes. "Ceru?"

The flap of the tent opened and the spitting image of Von stood silhouetted against the black canvas of space.

"There is nothing more you can do here," said Zeke.

420. Snuffle This

Rog snuffled the bowl that Yul held before him. What followed cannot be repeated here.

419. Von's Journal #7

The eye of the soldier sees not what the eye of the general sees

Great generals converse in many languages and see with many eyes

There are few great generals

The heart, however, knows but one truth

Sate of body -- sate of heart: not consensual

Rend the ardent heart does Janus upon the coup truculent

Lush is a time and a place, for what is lush today is sour tomorrow

At my age, I would not refuse either nor would I sully with appellation

Let the young appellate, the old cannot be bothered with such indiscretions

Pity is a purse that will bankrupt your soul

A captious vessel will not shoal the reef

A taciturn Silus I do miss, caressed by a pure wind and a clear sky

418. As Pale Blue Suns

Kyra stood before the crew, her back to the cosmos, her hands on the table, her eyes shinning as pale blue suns. She said a Kulmyk command carrier was on its way to destroy them. She said she would be unavailable for awhile and regardless of what they saw or heard or felt, no one was take any action whatsoever. She paused and looked at Rog. He looked away. Then she looked at John while speaking to the entire group. "In my absence, prepare Bravo for transport and prepare yourselves. We have some unfinished business." She lifted her hands off the table as if daring anyone to speak. No one did.

"Snazzle?"

"Yes Kyra?"

"As soon as repairs are finished, and I suspect they will be finished within the hours, set course for the other Hynerian vessel in this sector."

"And Snazzle?"

"Yes?"

"That would be Captain to you."

"Yes Captain."

Kyra turned back to the group and those that were there would swear later her body seemed haloed in a faint glimmering light. "Any questions?"

None were forthcoming.

"Dismissed."

417. Harrowing the Soul

Trev tensed, involuntary as shallow breath. Em combed her fingers through his short hair, her thumb harrowing the shar pei furrow above his brow.

"Talk to me baby." She worked rows as a farmer before the coming rain. (Squishing one flat and two more sprung forth like weeds.)

"Nothing to say."

Em started to speak; silence slow as china falling between hand and floor.

Trev turned his back, throwing his feet to the floor as rocks over a cliff. Em nestled to his warm back, her arms draped like vines over his shoulders, her head heavy as stone beside his. She kissed his ear, suckling his lobe as her fingers intertwined on his chest as if he were in danger of falling.

"Baby, I don't know what you're feeling." Her arms drew tighter. "But I tell you this mister pampus got my tongue. I'm here now and I will hold you till the twelfth of never. You see this?"

Em held her brooch in front of Trev's silent face.

"I was strong then and I am strong now and if I have to carry us both, by Janus, I will."

As if the throb of her heart were a hammer upon his back, tenderizing pain not seen, a tremble rolled from his diaphragm as a wave, spilling forth in tears harbored too long. His body went limp and Em pulled him back into the bed, his head in her chest, her hands on his head.


Camera zooms out. Screen fades to black. Tracy Chapman's All That You Have is Your Soul plays. As the credits roll and the audience walks out, Chapman's Baby Can I Hold You plays.

416. Dream On

"Are you Trevor?" the voice called though the slicing rain. Bravo neighing at moor.

"Trev." His letters as leaves on the wind.

"What?"

"Trev. My name is Trev."

"Well, Trev," said the voice, poking him in the side, "if you aim to mount this ride . . ."


Em stood as stone, head back, eyes red, pooling, supplicating like a forsaken angel. Crimson tears rolled like little beads of mercury, escaping over the curve of her trembling rims. Her arms hung down, elbows locked like ostrich knees, palms turned outward, buffered from her waist in disbelief.

Pinky fluttered about, eyes soundlessly clicking.

"Hey Trev, where you going?" called Rog. "Trev?" Gone. The door to Em's quarters open. Rog peeked in. "Em?" Words swallowed in the silence as light into a black hole.

Turning the corner Trev ran into Goldie, her arm poking him in the side. "Ouch."


"Hey you, sleepyhead. That didn't hurt." Em poked Trev again. "You gonna sleep all morning?"

"What?"

"You were having some sort of strange dream."

Trev rubbed his eyes, sheets like curtains on his waist. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," said Em, kissing his cheek, her hands massaging his shoulders.

"Wow." Trev shook his head as if to avoid contact.

"Who is Stacie?"

415. Shone on Me

With the pad of his palm, Trev wiped beads of rain from the face of his chron. She was late. Traffic. Weather. He looked again, as if the looking itself had power, as the evidence of minutes ticked presented their case. With eyes full, he blinked, surveying the crowd on the dock from the awning of his cold dripping hand. Huddles of love, arms linked and eyes locked on loved ones. Any minute, any minute the brown grey masses would part and her bouncing blond hair would appear as a beacon in the brume. Voices awash on the wind, hats held tight to head, coats sodden, rain slapping faces like grinning monkeys, the dock wet with a dull shine. Each hug like a nail. Each kiss a lightning bolt. He looked again into the endless grey.

A voice called from behind. He waved it off. Standing straight, on toes, eyes scanned as wiper blades, alone in their clocking back and forth. The voice called again. He yelled over the wind.

“Trev, you okay?” asked Em.

“What?”

“Your palm is sweating.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay. I will be fine. You’ll see. And I will too.” Em smiled.

Trev pulled her tight. Her hair was not blond but the light in her heart shone as the light in his imagination thought it would have.

414. A Bitter Wind

Dr X looked at Em with eyes soft as down, his shoulders huddled like a goose bracing a bitter winter wind. She looked back, eyes wide, the view before her, shades of shapeless golden colors dancing as the hope before a heart unscarred, her hand outstretched for the suitor. Trev stood to her side, his nervous hand on her right shoulder. Mairi, standing beside the doctor, refused to make eye contact. He tried to think his concern to her. The Dr sighed.

"Em." said Dr X.

"Yes," she replied, not allowing him to finish his thought.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it. We have two options."

"Oh my Janus. What is wrong?"

"Nothing wrong. Everything is as it is."

"Then what? Options? How can we have options if the path is clear? What's blocking our way?"

Dr X drew a breath. "Your sight, the damage, is, more, how do I say it, delicate than I anticipated."

"You can't fix it?" Em stood as if standing to confront the news, her fist balled at the end of forearms flexed.

"As I said, we have options. We can--"

Tocsins blared and a faded red light flashed. "This is Kyra. I need everyone in the conference room. Now. Repeat. I need everyone in the conference room immediately."

413. Cut!

"What is it Snazzle?" asked Kyra.

"There is a transmission I think you want to hear."

"Damn it Snazzle, just tell me what it is."

"I really think--"

"Don't you ever frailing try to tell me what I should think. Now tell me what you have before I yank your circuits into the noose I wrap around your shinny new levers."

"Kyra, is everything--"

"Snazzle!"

"Yes ma'am. Kulmyk command has our coordinates. A command carrier is on its way." Static. "Kyra? Kyra?"

"Cut. Cut! What is it Kyra?" asked the director.

"Not the way it happened."

"It's a movie. We need the drama. Gives you an edge."

"Sorry, I wouldn't have reacted that way. Cut the scene or change it."

"Kyra."

"Don't Kyra me. Cut it or change it."

"Everybody take five. Damn."

"I kinda liked it," said Rog.

"Shut the frail up," winked Kyra.

412. Pizzle Diablo

"Bring more amsec," said Tabood, flipping coin before his buggered strumpets, fard like clowns. Heels of hire clicked as dutiful castanets. He sat his chair like a debauched king, a play of light dancing between legs flesh and paid, between mechanicals diabolically tainted by minds made rich in the perverted commerce, and gulped the sweet fruit to drown what could not be drowned.

"Sir, we have the coordinates."

"Set course and notify command. Open channel."

"Yes sir."

_______

Back on Kulmyk:

Like an airborne snake, the whip uncurled, uncoiled, releasing energy like a devil's finger, furrowing the living flesh as blood tasted dank air; and the pale stone wall appeared as crimson speckled egg, cold in sweat, unspeaking, sentient as the unborn. Tom ground his teeth in the echo of snapping pizzle.

"Shame of the matter . . ." Whip cracked above his head, as if a token of mercy. " . . . Tabood has spoken, without the first lick of leather. Imagine that."

Tom's face tightened as if words were knobs, each a twist to stretch skin over bone as a drummer might in tune.

"We have the coordinates. And, we have you. So, you might ask yourself, what is the measure of your pride?"

Tom spit blood upon the blurry floor. His mind swimming in pain both sharp and dull, his back aflame as his chest throbbed, seeking release where no release would be quartered.

"All men break Tom. You will break too. Not because you can offer us anything we don't already have. Do you understand?"

Tom defecated his reply, the floor a mixture foul of sight as of smell, his breathing labored as a horse chained before the carnifex, nostrils steaming in the dark cold.

"The question, Tom, is do you want to suffer, break and die; or do you want to break and die quickly. You see, you will break. You know that Tom. You know all men break. All men Tom. And you will break too."

"Fuck you."

"Tom, you know, I really didn't want to do this and I can't say I will take any pleasure from it either, but I don't have all day. You ain't the only business needing attention."

The door opened and Tom's jaded eyes, once crusted slits, became wide. "Enough!"

The door closed and the young boy removed. "Thank you Tom. Now tell me what you know and we'll avoid anymore unpleasantness. For the record Tom. For the children. The children must know the truth."

Tom spoke. Then he spoke no more as the walls turned their red eyes closed.