Gabriel (Macross) - Into the Void, Part 2

Gabriel had been about to explain to the Captain very calmly that such a thing was simply not possible when he was cut off before the words were even allowed to issue forth from his mouth. What? He hadn't time to do or say anything at all really, when the blast came. It was good that he was stuck in such a small space, as it minimized how much he was jolted. It was also bad, as the wound in the ship still festered and he was sent hard into a piece of twisted metal. His sharp cry was swallowed by the sound as he felt the serrated edge bit deep into the flesh of his arm.

It was dubiously that he pulled himself off of it, his own blood now welling up and seeking to find the engineering bay floor. Using his free hand he ripped the torn sleeve from his suit and tied a makeshift tourniquet around the wound before he ended up passing out. The pain in just moving was enough to make him want to stay perfectly still.

This was serious. There was no way that he could charge the fold cannon now, not with all of this. Who did the Captain think he was anyway? He couldn't work miracles like...

And it was in that moment, he found his answer, his mind clicking on it without him even having really been searching. Making himself move he half crawled out of the hole, calling to the first man who wasn't on the floor.

"Ensign Favian!"

"Yes sir?" The very young man snapped to attention, though he looked surprised to see his boss just popping out of nowhere. He was covered in soot and grime, like most of the others.

"Go to the Core and prime it." He did a few quick calculations in his head. Power, but not to much power. No sense in killing everyone. "Four rotations, no more, understand?" The Ensign nodded and hurried off to do his bidding. When he was gone Gabriel slipped back into the hole, moving a bit ways down to find a small tube console. It wasn't good for much, or so people thought. You just had to know how to use them. He pulled a small keyed device out of his pocket and pulled a cord from its innards, connecting it into one of the ports of the console. While he waited for the telltale signs that the prime had been successful he tapped one handed on the personal device and on the consoles controls with the other. His wounded arm cried out in protest but he ignored it and forced his fingers to move with as much speed as he could muster.

Within the first week of coming onto this vessel, he had tapped into its computer system and had made himself at home. Not exactly regulation, but it helped to have an intimate knowledge of the technology that kept you alive.

He slipped through the system, connecting to his personal computer which rested in his quarters, always on, always connected to the ships systems. He could do most anything from the comfort of his own room. Patching through his own system he had only to wait, and luckily not for long, as the console in front of him beeped a warning that a portion of the ships power had been cut and drawn out of the Core. It was certainly not the first choice in a situation like this, but it would be suicide to try and do what he was planning with all of the ships power. Relays were built for a reason. Just enough to power the fold engines and get them out of here.

He had the power, now he just had to figure out a way to move it.

Unfortunately, that was the hard part.

Gabriel slowly slipped into his quite space. The place he went to whenever he hacked something new, watched his favorite episode of Star Trek, or picked up a particularly beautiful piece of electronic equipment. A place where it was only himself and what he was doing at that very second. In this time, in this place, it was just him and the ship, and what he had to do.

His fingers moved now without regard to the pain that shot up his arm from the forced movement, as he called up systems, patterns, paths, one after the other, running through them far faster than a human probably should have been able to. But at the moment, he could have been merely an extension of the machine.

One, two, three...

He linked the path together, running through it like a maze to try and find his way from the beginning in the Core, to the ending in the Fold Generator. Even though they were so close in proximity, with the proper channel cut, he had to go the long way, through systems that weren't designed to carry that sort of power. He had to be careful to pick them wisely.

Four, five, six...

He steered away from those that were most important, even if they were faster. Life Support, Navigation, Weapons. They would be lost anyway without those. Every time he found a dead end he had to turn back and go another way, leaving markers in his wake so he could follow the trail back. How many seconds had it been, how many minutes? There was no time here.

Seven, eight...

Finally, after what must have been a forever, he found the light at the end of the tunnel and staked his last flag at the power cells of the Fold Generator. Then he looked back over the line of red dots that indicated the path he had taken. It was the best he had been able to come up with and though there was no room for error, somewhere in his mind he prayed that he had not indeed done just that.

There was a moments hesitation before a finger dropped on a key and the program was executed. The floodgates of power that held the supply stripped from the Core opened and rushed from their holding along the path he had prescribed for it. He watched as the torrent of power crashed into each way station, each system he had chosen to guide it. Alarms over the ship warned of sudden power spikes in a seemingly random pattern. The first system held and it moved on, the second didn't and throughout the ship the lights went off as they were overloaded, plunging them all into the semi-darkness of consoles and emergency lights. The third went to as did the fourth, both nonessential systems when it came right down to it. The fifth held, and so did the sixth. The seventh crashed harder than he would have thought, and an alarm sounded as they lost one of the impulse engines. The eighth, and last, barely held before sending the power to its final destination.

It hit the Generator cells hard in its rush to be home and for a moment he thought he might have miscalculated and the entry points would short, but they modified themselves and sluiced in the power. There, in his place, and on the bridge the power in the Fold would spike to full and hold, giving the Captain what it was he needed. He had done his part. It was out of his hands now.

He fell back against the side of the tube, breathing hard and hurting all over as his high left him. Somewhere in his muddled mind he realized he had lost a lot of blood. He said a silent prayer to a certain Engineer God who went by the name of LaForge and then went still as he felt the blackness pulling him down.

Gabriel (Macross) - Into the Void, Part 1

Gabriel hadn't needed to reply to the Captain, the thought wasn't even in his mind. It was his job to get them out of here and for once he agreed fully with the ships commander.

Four Meltrandi battleships, just like that. Something didn't seem right to him...

But, it wasn't his job to speculate on things like that. He had half turned, when the explosion came, sending him back against the console once more, but before the sound had even expired he knew something was seriously wrong. They weren't flying out into space. And he knew that as far as engineering went, he kept it in the best shape he possibly could. His work didn't explode. They hadn't been hit by anything external.

Everything about this was just wrong.

His mind screamed it at him, but nevertheless, he had to get them out of here or they were all doomed. And so he pushed himself off the console to get his crew in the corridor to head off the fire so they didn't have an inferno on their hands before he was able to figure out just what the hell had happened and how badly it would affect them. He just hoped to god the fold generator hadn't been damaged.

He was in midstride when he caught sight of Fieldman and Watt, two of his own. They were good boys, good crew. Fieldman was a workhorse, never complained, and Watt had even managed to teach him a few things. He was about to send them off, not understanding yet why they were standing around when there were things to be done. His words were taken when a wide, blurred arc of some great black horrible thing flashed across the space as Watt turned. And then some sound that couldn't have possibly come from a human creature echoed through the space, followed by a deafening 'Yes' resounding from the gun.

Gabriel didn't even flinch, and while his eyes were fixed upon the scene before him in disbelieving horror, he felt something warm and wet land across his face. Red blurred his vision. The scent of it and something else he couldn't identify assaulted him and he slowly tasted the metallic twinge that he somehow knew couldn't have been his own blood.

And the chief technical officer of the UNS Shogun stood there in the middle of his own engineering bay, frozen, eyes wide, mouth agape, his mind numb and trying desperately to catch up to him and what had just happened. It was failing miserably.

There was a sickening thud at his feet but he couldn't move his eyes to see, even if his mind knew it was... had been, Henry Fieldman. His engineer. No sound could find its way to his blood flecked lips to express the horror, pain, and anger that was assaulting him.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever and somehow he knew the world, his world, had come to its end. He could see Watt, the gun still in his hand. But that wasn't his engineer. It wasn't His Lieutenant Junior Grade Thomas Watt, the young man who had given him the idea he needed to fix the problem with the shield manifolds when he had been stumped on it for weeks...

His crew didn't kill each other!

That gun would come for him next. He would die, the ship would be destroyed, and everyone would follow him. And damn it all, why couldn't he bloody move!?

But a figure moved into his line of sight behind Watt, small, short. Something heavy and all slick silver metal lifted high above the young man and hung there for a few moments before it careened down towards the back of his head.

Alexandre - A Fragment

17 March 1828

I have managed to hide what I am from my dear William for just over a year now, but as was expected, my secret has been discovered.

...

“Alexandre…” A light touch upon my hand. So we were back to formalities were we? Fine then, I had mastered that art a long time ago and was willing to play this little game.

“Yes, Mr. Bennett?” He was stung, I could feel it. The touch was gone. A triumph and a tragedy for me all at once.

“Emile…” I flinched, not having expected that. Why did he have to insist on calling me that when he knew very well I didn’t like it? I hated him for it just as I loved him. Arms twined round my waist and I did nothing to hinder them but gave no response to the motion.

“I don’t care what you are or what you do… you are so very important to me and I don’t want to lose that.”

The words of one so young as he, who did not understand. He had to know. I had turned in his embrace and my lips were at his ear whispering that he needed to know everything and before I could stop myself or he could make a move my fangs had pierced the flesh of his neck and I was drawing his blood out of him. Sweet and so gently forced, he melted in my arms as I held him against me, the sheer ecstasy of such an embrace threatening to overwhelm me. I did not take much, though I longed to, and when I pulled back he reeled a moment in silence.

“Emile, I still don’t care.” Defiant to the last.

In that moment I knew for sure that my heart was no longer my own.

Rainy Sunday

The mall usually wasn’t quite so busy on a Sunday. Of course, it wasn’t as if I was normally one of the human throng either. Being around that many people felt claustrophobic, but today the house seemed even more oppressive than usual and considering it was pouring outside, it seemed the best escape. I regretted the decision almost as soon as it was made, but there was no turning back once inside the doors. I was already wet enough and I could feel the water slowly creeping up the hems of my jeans. Dry off, just stay long enough to dry off. There was, of course, the added factor of not really having any money to spend on extras but there was nothing wrong with window shopping. I had gotten far to used to it by now. Now, more than ever, I longed to make an impulse buy, or four. A book, a game, some shoes that didn’t make my feet hurt. Anything to add something novel in my life. I knew it was impossible though. Rent was due soon enough, and the electric bill, and all the other nagging responsibilities of the everyday that no one in their right mind wants to face.

I moved away from the doors where the perpetual humidity tried to force its way in each time someone hurried in from the damp outside, and let myself be picked up by the current of humanity and be carried along. I let the old couples and mothers pushing strollers guide my steps. At least in this way, I didn’t have to think much and that was nice sometimes, far to nice. That gentle numbness, not having to worry about every little thing, those greater concepts that fueled the world but which frightened at the same time. Everything us mere mortals could and couldn’t understand. Those obedient drones. Seemed so many of these people had lost the ability to think for themselves and I always hated them for it.

Maybe, they knew something I didn’t.

Without even realizing how I had gotten there, I found myself passing the coffee shop. Carefully wading to the edge of the river I took pearch at the corner of the shop and checked my wallet. Ten bucks. No extras I tried to remind myself, but this was different. I needed it. I used to hate coffee but over the years it had become my close friend, supporter, and terror. Forget cigarettes, drugs, sex. My addiction was to everything caffeine. At least I could pretend that it wasn’t that. I could only imagine myself in a Twelve Step Program trying in vain to wean myself off caffeine, sneaking a cola or those damn mints in the back room while I put on a brave face in the group circle. Well, it wouldn’t be any different than the rest of my life, now would it? Lying, was far to easy a thing.

Fine, coffee. Not as if I could have said no anyway. At least there wasn’t a line. Just plain, regular coffee, none of that fancy stuff that cost five dollars with mounds of caramel and whipped cream on the top. More of a dessert than a drink really. Still, it always took me a few minutes to get mine just right. Cream and sugar had to be varied depending on what type they were offering. Or, maybe I’m just far to picky for my own good. I knew I shouldn’t drink to much coffee on an empty stomach so I got a beef pasty out of the bakery too even though I knew I shouldn’t. This was just a day for deveation. No good for my health, but I was already to far gone to care to much. Treasures in hand, now came the task of escaping back out into the mall. More like walking into traffic if you ask me. Turning against the flow I managed to weave my way to an empty bench and sit down so I could eat. I hate people watching almost as much as I hate people, but at least I had something else to concentrate my attentions on. The pasty was nice and hot, and the last thing I wanted to do was drop it. To bad I forgot napkins. It seemed like kids gone wild day. They went streaking and screaming past me like they hadn’t seen open space before. I honestly couldn’t remember what it was like to be that young. I hated kids, so stupid all of them. But they had ignorance as their excuse and it was hard to blame them for things they couldn’t yet know.

Well, usually. Today I could make an exception. It would be so easy to just stick my foot out and send one of them flying… No, no, bad idea.

Sesha I - An Abandoned Concept, Part 2

"For the last time, no." Elanoen said, voice soft but carrying that terse tone that it only did when he was becoming frustrated. Cherasesha knew when to be careful, knew from long experience just how far he could push his Father before it was to far. He had given his Father a myriad of good reasons so far as to why he should be allowed to go with him to the Weyr, but nothing seemed to move the man and he was running out of options and time.

"Please..." He gently pleaded once more, following his Father as he moved about the infirmary. Elanoen had been working when he son had come to him. The boy had been bothering him about this for nearly a week now, and so far, he had yet to give in. He knew how much his son wanted to travel with him to the Weyr, but he knew so very well what his wife would say to that. She would have both their hides and it was that danger he tried to get his son to understand. Cherasesha, however, hadn't been deterred and Elanoen was loosing his resolve. Unlike many families, theirs was based upon the strength of will. Between the four of them, whoever was the strongest usually got their way.

But none of them could stand up to Audra.

Elanoen hadn't quite known what he was getting himself into when he had married the woman. But she had been the daughter of the Hall leader, how could he have turned her down? And she had been so very beautiful. She still was, despite her iron fist. He had had so many plans for himself, nearly all of which had never come to fruition after his marriage. He was no longer the man he was, and he hardly ever noticed anymore.

"Papa please..." Cherasesha's voice pulled him back to the present and he looked over. Hazel eyes met hazel eyes and he couldn't help but feel pity for his son. Though he did not hate his life, it was not everything he had wanted it to be, everything that it should have been... And he knew, that would be his sons fate as well. Audra was already searching through the promising young girls in the Hall, looking for one with the same temperament as her own, to join Cherasesha with. He knew very well his son's personality was soft, like his own, and he would be left with nothing.

Cherasesha had taken his Fathers arm, holding himself close to the man in the same way he had done when he was little and had wanted attention or to be picked up. Things were different now though, and he and his Father had grown slightly apart. He had never wanted that to happen, but it seemed he had so little control over things anymore. And he wanted this so very badly. Just one more chance, just one to see the dragons again and then he would be content. He swore to himself that he would never ask for anything else ever again. His eyes shone, speaking much of what his heart was feeling inside and he could read the emotion emanating from his Fathers as well. In so many ways, they were the same. He truly was his Fathers son.

Cherasesha was about to speak again when Elanoen very gently placed two fingers over his sons lips, silencing him in the same way he used to do when the boy had been younger. He was silent a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. He truly did want to give Cherasesha this chance. It was what he felt in his heart was right, but so many years of being in the iron grip of his wife had worn away his resolve.

"I know how much you want this Sesha, and I want to be able to give this opportunity to you, but your Mother..." He sighed.

Cherasesha very gently took his Father's wrist and moved his hand away so he could speak. Normally, he never would have dared, but this was different. His voice remained soft, hardly more than a whisper.

"I promise Papa, I'll never ask you for anything ever again. Just this once, just once before my next birthday. I'll have new duties then and I'll never have a chance to leave. Please..." He was in total earnest, and the despair he was feeling must have been quite clear in his eyes as his Father's own took on a pained look. Cherasesha held his breath, just waiting for his Father to tell him no.

The answer he got took him totally by surprise.

"I'll think about it."

The boys eyes widened and he threw his arms around his Fathers neck, giving the man a squeeze the likes of which he hadn't done since he was much younger. Cherasesha knew his Father, and an 'I'll think about it' was far better than anything he could have hoped for. There was still a chance, and a good one now, that he would be journeying to the Weyr.

And he could hardly wait.

Oleksander - Day Pass

It was, all in all, a very nice day. One of the sort that many would call sun shiny. Not to hot, a little breeze, no chance of rain to spoil anything. One couldn't have asked for a better day to be outside.

Oleksander Choroshko was one of the many that took advantage of just that. Sick of being in his dark room, just down the hall from the one person he could not understand and wanted so very much to, unable to work out his frustrations through his hands. The music was not coming to him today. There were times when it did so, eluded him, and today was one such, much to his frustration. He hated those times, feeling stripped of the only thing he felt he could do right. The Major couldn't tell him he was wrong there. In that one aspect, that single solitary one out of all the world, he knew more than the older man and he would be damned to hell if he ever believed that to be false. Everything else The Major could have. But not that.

He had begun walking around the campus of the University that the Institute edged, through the green trimmed grass, stopping here and there to sit on a bench or a bit of wall a few minutes to watch the students studying or just relaxing there, careful to keep his powers in check. He was getting better at it, slowly. Even when he was a child, he remembered it all so vividly, things had never quite been normal. He'd had a violin pressed into his hands before he could even read and from then on it had been nothing but the instrument and the music. Friends meant nothing, his Father had always told him, but the music... the music would never be false, would never betray, and it could never die. Not as long as there was someone to play it.

His Father had been so proud of him when he'd gotten into the Conservatory. The youngest person in history to pass the exams. He had made the proctors weep. If only he could know if it was his own hand that had done so or merely the power he now found he held. Perhaps he would never know the answer. And after that, the concerts, the solos, the recording sessions. It had all been to much, and to empty. Looking out upon a group of students gathered in a circle, sitting under an oak tree in the grass, he wondered what it was like to have friends like that.

But it didn't matter. Not really.

He no longer wanted to stay there, and so he pushed himself off the wall and began to walk, letting his feet take him wherever they wanted to go. For once he didn't care, didn't think a moment about what The Major would say if he got back late. It would just be more yelling, and he would deal with that when the time came. He was in no hurry now. The campus fell away from under his feet and the town of Anglia began, one sidewalk or another eaten up beneath him. The city was still mostly unknown to him but for the few times he had dared go out into it. But he didn't fear it, at least. There was no reason to.

His Father had been so angry with him when he'd made his decision to come here. He'd as good as given up on everything he had worked his young life to achieve. What his father had wanted for him. But the path he had walked had been chosen for him, was restrictive and cold and that was not one he could stand. Music was not about cold and hardness, it was about life and warmth and all of the things he could feel around him but not put into words. That was what the music could do for him. His Father had screamed, the blows had hurt, but there was no changing his mind. He had to find his own path and letting go was part of that.

And now, in the present his path took him to parts of the city he didn't know. Perhaps he was lost but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to care. More streets. Corners, crosswalks, buildings. This city was not like Odessa. Odessa was old and thick and beautiful. This city was beautiful to, in its own way, but it was newer, sharper. He did not mind its difference. He slowly stopped, finally a reason to, a fenced court across the street catching his attention for some reason or another.

Boys were playing basketball there, moving madly around the paved court though there was no animosity there. They were having fun, which was perhaps what had caught his mental radar. Crossing the street he went to watch them play, hardly paying much mind to where he was. The thoughts of 'low income area' didn't even occur to him. They were probably around his own age, a little younger, a little older but not by much. Diverse as well, which he did not get so very much back at home. He had never played much basketball, but he could follow it well enough, and they were all very good. As he watched he picked up more and more. He hardly noticed the time pass. They did not seem to tire or to notice him much, which suited him just fine. An hour, maybe more, before the last in a long series of games came to its end and several of the boys left for good this time.

"Hey you!"

It took him a few moments to realize it was himself being called to and he looked up from where he leaned against a bit of fencing.

"Yes?"

"You wanna play?" And he realized, without having to really think about it, that he did.

"I am afraid I am not very good..."

The boy who'd called him over shrugged. "'S just for fun anyway. C'mon."

And so he went. And he played. At first he wasn't all that great, but he'd been watching and he could move when he wanted to and had fast eyes and hands. And, though he would not admit it, the training he had gone through had made him a lot stronger than he'd realized up until now. It wasn't long before he was at least keeping up with them and he no longer had to think so much about the game. He just played and that was all. It was like music, only the instrument was a ball and he was no more important than any other member of the orchestra. There were no real solos here. And, perhaps most important of all, he did not need to use his powers. They did not lash out as they could have and though he felt quite a bit what the others did the feelings did not suffocate him as they had so very many times. None of them asked him personal questions, about his accent, or anything else. It was bliss.

And the day passed, a blur of ball and concrete under his shoes, and shouts and sweat until it was well into the late afternoon and only when it started to get dark did enough of the boys finally have to go that there weren't enough left to play a proper game with. So he was left with the one who had called him over originally, though now he was thinking again there was a bit of a problem.

"I do not think I know how to get home from here."

"Don't worry about it. You just tell me where you need to go and I'll drive ya. 'S better than trying to walk it this time of day anyway."

So they had gone to the guys car, souped it up himself he said as they climbed in, and the guy had driven him back to the campus, music he had never had much experience with blasting out the windows. They didn't talk the entire way, but the silence was comfortable between them. His destination was a little white lie on his part in not mentioning he was actually staying at the Institute and not in the dorms, but it was better to be safe. They pulled up in a parking lot and he climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him. The guy turned down his music some and called out the window after him.

"Same time next week?" He was grinning.

"I would like that." Oleksander found that did, too. "Oh! But I never did ask your name."

"Leonard. But only my Momma calls me that. You just call me Leo."

"I am Oleksander." He had to give Leo credit at least, he only winced slightly at the name, but that didn't seem to derail him for long.

"It was fun. See you next week Zander." Leo grinned broadly, like a cat, and took off.

Oleksander just watched until the car was out of sight and the music had faded, leaving him with the quiet of the night, and then began the trek back across campus and to the Institute. He was sweaty and he was dirty and he was tired and The Major was probably going to yell at him for coming back so late. But for once... The Major could stuff it where the sun didn't shine. He had had fun. 

Sesha I - An Abandoned Concept, Part 1

It was nearing noon, just at that oh-so critical point in the day when the air would begin to warm as the sun reached its zenith overhead. The sky, deep unfragmented blue, seemed untroubled by anything that could possibly be going on anywhere in the world. One would hardly think that there was so much going on outside of the meadow where a lone young man and his runnerbeast were.

Cherasesha had gone out for the day, with the explanation of needing to replenish several of the bottles on the infirmary shelves, more especially before the slow shifting of the temperature did away with certain species until the next season. It was true, for the most part. The fact that getting out of the Hall got him away from the iron grip of his Mother was something that he had decided not to mention. He needed the break, and even with his good excuse, she had been adverse to it. Therefore, he had had to slip out past the escort she had decided to send along with him.

He knew where to look for what he needed. Taking his runner, his supplies and his bow and arrow 'just in case' he had left several hours ago and had traveled farther than needed in order to garner the common plant life. The lands only a couple of miles from the Hall held most of what he was looking for, but he had passed them by, much to the questioning of Ven, his runner. The beast stopped complaining, however, when he had loosed the rein and sent him into a long wild gallop across the flat country finally letting the beast use all of his power, which was so rarely allowed. It had been absolutely glorious. The wind whipping all around them and the ground falling away under them so that it hardly mattered any longer. He trusted his runner implicitly and so, when he closed his eyes and let Ven choose his own path, he could have sworn that he was flying.

The illusion ended soon enough, however, and he finally found a place to stop. Giving his runner rest he took to the ground to gather up the herbs, roots, vines, and flowers that would be taken back to the Hall and eventually used to heal the wounded. Taking his time, and working with skill borne from long experience, his hands were soon stained a myriad of colors from the plant juices, as was the blade of his small knife. Morning was ending by then, and he could feel his stomach rumbling. Gathering up his things he returned them all to the special containers carried in his runners saddlebags and cleaned off his knife and his hands with some water. Lunch, was a simple affair, just some dried fruit a little bread and some water, well enough to satisfy him. It was not as if the gathering had been particularly physically draining.

While Ven moved around nearby, lazily cropping grass Cherasesha laid back on the ground, gazing up at the sky. A gentle wind blew past him and he was reminded of the feeling he had when on the back of his runner, flying. Though he loved Ven his thoughts turned, inexorably, to dragons. How it must feel to be on the back of one as it moved through the sky... He had seen them a few times and he had found them terribly fascinating and after that first time he had searched through the Hall's library for books on them. Unfortunately, outside of the healing of the animals, there were little. He remembered when the riders had come to the Hall, but had been turned away by his Mother. She would not allow them to search for candidates among the youth and it had made him sad, in more ways than one. Not just for the others, but for himself as well. Secretly, he had wished to go along. But his Mother would never allow it and he knew he had more important things to think about. Mending bodies and minds was one of the highest and most noble goals one could possibly strive for. He probably wouldn't have made a very good dragonrider anyway...

A soft sigh escaped him and he turned on his side, eyes now filled with the green of the meadow. What if he were to simply take off on Ven and just ride out to somewhere and never go back again? But he knew very well that was out of the question. His steps would always lead him back to the Hall. After all, it was his home. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off into a light sleep, dragons dancing behind his eyes.

---

He was woken by a gentle nudging against his face and upon opening his eyes he found his runner snuffling close to him, probably tired of watching him sleep. He sat up, looking skyward to judge the time. It was well past mid-day now and he needed to get back before his Mother had a fit. Well, it was probably a bit too late for that now. The ride back was far slower than the one there, letting Ven take most of the control, as he lost himself in thought.

When he became close to the Hall the sound of another runner approaching broke him out of his revere and he looked up to see a young woman with honey blonde hair and sharp green eyes, looking a bit stern-faced. She must have been a few years older than he was. He gave a deferential nod as she drew up to his side to follow him.

"Mother is frantic." Her voice was soft when she spoke, though it held a gentle command of its own.

"I am sorry Lyn... I lost track of time."

Her face softened at that and she smiled over at him.

"Why does that not surprise me? You always did have your head up in the clouds." She teased. He and his older sister, Saralynne, could not have looked more different but more than most siblings, they understood and supported each other. She suffered from their Mother just as he did and when they were younger they had often escaped to find the hidden places in the Hall to play and relax. Things had changed recently though, his sister coming of age had meant that her duties had been increased and there was little time now for them to talk as they used to.

They rode awhile in silence and in the distance he could see other runners and their riders turn their paths back towards the Hall after catching sight of the pair. So, his Mother had sent people out looking for him. A frown touched his lips. When would she ever let him go?

"There is news." He blinked as his sister spoke and he canted his head to the side a little so he might look better at her. She went on.

"One of the Weyrs has contacted us, seeking a healer for one of their dragons." He was instantly at attention.

"And Mother agreed to see them?"

"Yes. She hates them, but even she must offer aid to those in need of our skills. You know that. She won't go herself though, she's sending Father." He was veritably squirming in his saddle now, all sorts of plans forming in his mind. Over the years his Mother's dominance had slowly worn his father down and so he was much more forgiving of the two of them. Maybe, just maybe, he could talk him into letting him come along.

"She won't let you, you know." His sister broke his thoughts, almost as if she could read just what was going on inside.

"I am sure Father will. Think, it would be great experience for me." He could at least use that as an excuse.

"And its not just so you can see the dragons again?" She asked, though she knew the answer.

"Of course not!" He drew himself up and gave her an indignant look that faded after a few moments. "Well... maybe that is part of it..."

They had reached the Hall by now and the building seemed to loom over him like a great shadow and he pulled his runner to a stop. He knew what waited inside for him and he was not looking forward to it. A soft sigh escaped him and he slumped a bit in the saddle.

"Things will turn out right Sesh, you'll see." She gave him one of her soft smiles; the ones that he had seen so rarely as of late and it drew one from himself. He plucked up his confidence and started off again, ready for the railing he was going to get.

But, despite it all, there was hope for him now. A hope of dragons.

Kevin - Visiting Hours

The morning was grey, heavy clouds overhanging the city, though the threat of rain was far in coming. The heavens had loosed their fury the night before so he had little to worry about. He was thankful for that at least.

Donning a pair of faded jeans, a simple shirt, and his leather jacket, he left early, taking his sportbike east and out of the choked city. This was a ritual by now, one born of long experience. His eyes shielded by his expensive sunglasses, the road slipped away under him, paying little heed to the speed limits.

He wasn't going overly far, but by the time he had reached his destination some of the clouds had shifted and the sun broke through here and there, patching the road with light.

He turned down a private road, leaving a sign behind him, one that he no longer looked at each time he passed it.

-East Trenton Psychiatric Hospital-

From there, it was only a short drive up to the large building, though it wasn't the kind that looked like some foreboding prison. He had made damn sure of that.

Parking his cycle, he walked up the gravel drive and through the doors. The artificial chemically smell drifted to his nose almost instantly though thankfully it wasn't to overpowering, as he made his way to the desk. At the sight of him the older woman there gave him a smile and a greeting. She knew him, far to well.

"Good morning Mr. Chan. Come to visit?"

"Yeah..." He gave her a pleasant enough smile. "Where is she?" She checked through a few files on the desk.

"Shes out on the grounds this morning."

He nodded, and after the formalities of signing in and getting his visitors badge he navigated his way through the familiar passages for the most part trying to ignore the wandering specters that moved through the aseptic halls. He didn't like to think of her here, but it was the only place. The best place. It was good for her here. Turning down a hall he made his way outside onto the high walled grounds, a breeze teasing his already wild orange hair, the emerging sun making it glow softly in the light.

In lieu of getting directions he decided to find his quarry himself. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans he sauntered out onto the grass, scenting the wind and scanning the green with his keen eyes.

He liked that she had this. It was soothing, quiet, serene.

It didn't take him long.

Under a large oak tree sat a small, lone figure. She was bent over slightly, long sandy hair falling all around into her lap, hiding her face, the neutral colors of the infirmary almost seeming to sap the color right out of her. Though his steps were silent, as he approached from behind she seemed to become still. He paused there and she gave an almost inaudible sound. When she spoke, her voice was so soft, almost swallowed up by the gentle breeze that blew around them and the natural creaking of the oak. However, to his sensitive ears, it was unmistakable.

"Kevin...?"

He gave the ghost of a smile before replying.

"Hey babe."

He stepped forward and closed the space between them, kneeling down in the grass in front of her. Finally, she looked up, emerald eyes meeting those of the most vivid blue. More beautiful than the sky, than the sea, than any other blue he could ever remember seeing. But, despite their beauty, they had a deadness about them. It seemed not even her visitor could change that and it was he only who knew the whole reason for them being so.

He mostly blamed himself, no matter how many times he was told otherwise.

---

The dark streets were nothing but a black blur as they ran, their legs carrying them as fast as they were able.

The two young figures held hands as they fled, turning corners wildly. It didn't help that neither one knew where they were or where they were going. They could hear, or at least thought they could, the pounding of feet behind them, bearing down upon them like a wave.

He wouldn't let them be caught again.

Not again.

He was jerked to a semi-stop as his companion tripped over some refuse and went sprawling hard to the ground. It was only their joined hands that kept her from breaking something. As it was...

"Come on, get up!"

Even as she battled to get to her feet, it was clear that wasn't possible. Something was twisted.

"I can't..." Instead of abandoning her as so many others might have he kneeled down by her side, managing to pull her onto his back. Hefting her up onto his small frame, he somehow got back to his feet, swaying just slightly before he set his course again and they were off. He was slower now, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

Unfortunately, his sense of direction wasn't as developed as his protectiveness. The next corner he took led them down into a dead end. He turned around, ready to bolt back the way they had come when the tromping of feet rounded the corner. The gigantic man who wore them almost seemed to take up the entire alley by himself, cutting off all way of escape.

Backing off, the boy went as far as he could, letting the girl slip from his shoulders as he lowered himself before her in a defensive stance, pushing down the fear and panic that were welling up inside of him. He had to protect her. The big man chuckled darkly as he advanced upon them both, electricity crackling around the closed fist at his right side. When he was in range he swung at the boy, but driven by instinct, or perhaps something far more special he dodged to the side with reflexes that were almost to fast to be human. The girl had let out a cry, having expected her companion to have been felled by that. He almost seemed as surprised as she did.

That pause was his mistake.

He missed the attack that came from the side from the second mutant who had come out of nowhere. A blow to the back of the neck. He heard her screaming, trying to get to him, and knew he had failed. Despair took hold of him as he felt himself being picked up roughly and tossed over a gigantic shoulder.

Then everything went black.