Summary: A representative of the Emperor has been sent to an out of the way planet populated by stranded colonists and bloodthirsty pirates. His job? To find one man.
Things do not go well.

p, li { white-space: pre-wrap; }

CHAPTER TWO

Waking up in a strange bed was always a bit of an experience. There was always this sense of disconnection with reality that took a few heartbeats to dispel.

He stretched and yawned hugely, wondering what the day would bring.

Without thought, he reached out his mind and grasped a change of clothes.

They popped into being and fell, scattered, onto the bed around him. It seemed his valet had decided he would wear silver and black for today.

He lifted the clothes and stood to dress. Silver trousers, a short-sleeved black shirt, and a silver jacket with black embroidery. It seemed Balinar thought he should dress correctly for his dignity. Never mind that he was incognito.

He sighed heavily, but dressed in the clothes provided. Balinar probably wouldn’t give him anything else, being the way he was.

There were some who said Balinar was so stiff and correct that he was born with a frown on his face and an organizer in his hands. He was as stiff and correct as a hunk of wood. There was absolutely no bend to him and he knew the way things were supposed to go. His way.

The man who called himself Miles Dareg knew better than to second-guess his valet. He had long since given up all power over what he would wear; that was Balinar’s department. Besides, Miles had more important things to worry about than the color of his shirt and the crease in his trousers.

Looking down at himself, he was vaguely amused at the pride he felt in his ability to dress himself. Less than a year ago, he had needed to be dressed like a giant doll. Yet here he was, fully-clothed, and all by himself.

“Hm, now it’s time for some breakfast,” he said, trying to remember where he was supposed to go.

If he wanted, he had the perfect memory that all telepaths were born with. But for now, he had decided to enjoy his time as an anonymous stranger. So he had decided that for the time being, he would be as normal as possible.

So he thought hard about where he could get some food.

He wondered if they were planning on feeding him in his room. Then decided that no, they would want to be able to know him. Besides, they lived in the desert, which meant they had survived the harsh environment of the land. Which meant that they hadn’t coddled anyone, and he doubted very much that they would start with him.

He chewed his lip for a moment, then set off to find what he could.

He sent out tendrils of thought, tracing where the nearest and most human thoughts were coming from.

It was outside in a large building. The plasti-walls were scraped and scuffed from years of desert sand blowing across them. There were window slats high up the walls, high enough and small enough that no one could possibly climb through, but perfect for venting.

Miles felt a slight smile curve his lips as he pushed the double doors open.

Dozens of long tables with people eating. The walls were plain unpainted gray and the plasti-floors had been semi-decorated in a check design carved out of the surface. In all, the place was extremely depressing looking and no one looked exactly happy to be here. This was the kind of place that people visited just long enough to fulfill their bodily needs.

He peered around and knew that this wasn’t going to be the kind of breakfast he enjoyed. Just looking, he knew that the food left a lot to be desired. They were eating bland little squares of processed protein and vegetable matter.

It seemed that they had matter converters to change the local raw materials into human edible foods. Of course, that didn’t mean that the stuff they made tasted any good.

He didn’t have very much experience with synthesized food, but what he did know, he didn’t like. It was some truly terrible stuff in the taste department.

“Here sir, I got you some breakfast,” a young boy said, offering a plasti-tray with ten of the small, orangey-cream squares. Enough to make a full meal for one adult.

Miles sighed and took the tray. “Thank you.”

He found a seat at one of the tables and stared down at his breakfast. The squares were about as appealing as cat vomit.

Taking his life in his hands, he picked up a square and bit into it.

It tasted like he was chewing on wood chips. He chewed the bite into powder and swallowed. He fought back the need to cough dryly.

“So, what do you think of the food here?” Kaitlyn asked, slipping into the space next to him. She was a little too cheerful for an early morning and the already boiling desert sun.

“Great, this is the kind of food I’ve always dreamed about,” he said sarcastically.

She laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know. This is what we’ve eaten for as long as I’ve been alive. The native plants and animals are toxic to humans. So this is basically it for chow.”

He shuddered at the thought of spending his whole life eating E-rations. He had to feel a little sorry for these people and the sixty-five years they’d been here.

“When I get you people back in touch with the Empire, I’ll make sure to feed you all of the best things. You’ll never be able to look E-rations in the face again. Believe me.”

She laughed, delighted at the thought. “How are you going to get word out that we’re here?” she asked. “Do you have a com unit?”

He tossed the square back on his tray. “I don’t need one. My ship’s in orbit and they’re linked to my neural implant.”

“You mean, you could call them at any time?” a middle-aged looking man asked.

Miles smiled. “Sure,” he said, “they’ll come when I call. They’re just waiting for me to send word and the shuttles will deploy.”

A look of delight spread across the man’s face. “We’re finally going to get off of this hellhole of a world?”

Miles examined the man, saw how desperate he was. This was a man that had only survived for the years they were stranded. He had known that his prolong would leave him with hundreds of more years, living on this desert planet with nothing to look forward to.

Now Miles was here, a savior in human flesh. The man was so filled with relief and joy that it was hard to look at him.

“When can we leave?” the man demanded.

Miles shrugged. “A few days or so. Your people will need time to gather up all of your things and decide who really wants to leave and who wants to stay.”

“Stay? Who could possibly want to stay here?”

Miles smiled. “You never know what people will become used to. What they will come to think of as normal, and what will become home to them.

“Maybe some of your people will want to stay here, especially if they’re assured of being on the trade routes. If they know they’re an acknowledged part of the Empire, they may not want to leave. After all, this is home for many of them. The place where they were born and raised. I’m sure that a few might want to stay.”

“How could they want to stay here?”

The boy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell what some people will want to do. It will take a few days to leave anyway, which will give everyone time to make their choices.”

Kaitlyn touched his sleeve. “How many people are in your crew?”

Miles brushed his knuckles across her cheek and smiled fondly. “I only have a crew of ten, which leaves plenty of room for all of your people. You don’t have to worry that any who want to go will be left behind.”

She smiled brightly, relieved, even though she didn’t really know why. She was young enough to be idealistic, young enough to believe that things always worked out in the end, that there had to be space on his ship for everyone. That no one she loved would have to be left behind, dumped like old, dirty laundry.

He was glad not to have to be the one to pop some of her bubbles. Glad not to be responsible for that shining light to go out of her eyes.

Maybe he was getting too old. That would explain the sudden darkness that filled him. He had seen too much of the universe to allow himself to be caught up in the moment. He was just too old in the head to let himself get too involved in the things that happened, to pin all of his hopes on one chance. The stakes had become too high for such idealism.

That was why there were three warships up there with his flagship. He had enough firepower to handle any situation that happened to come along.

He had always been one of the more focused members of his family. He tended to hold even with what he wanted or needed, rather than frittering his time away. Some of his sibs were just plain irresponsible. It surprised him that they always ended up getting the job done, since they never seemed to do any work.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand his family. They were as much a mystery to him, as he was to them. And his father…

When he was around the man, he could sometimes feel his father’s puzzlement. Through all of the man’s shields he had felt his love and his bemusement at his son’s oddness.

Miles drew in a deep breath and stared down at the ration cubes on his tray. Sometimes he wondered why he had been born so different from everyone else in his family. Why he had always been the odd man out. It was truly mysterious.

* * *

Kat watched the boy pick at his food.

He was even better looking today than he was yesterday, which was a little hard to believe. He was so fantastic looking that she had to wonder if he were real. The fact that he was going to take them all off this rock just added to the amazement.

All of her life, she had heard tales of the Empire. Of the many worlds she would someday see. She had dreamed, but with little real hope that they would ever leave Kirovalla. Now this man/boy had come to be their savior and carry them away.

He was so good-looking and he seemed nice. He was just the kind of guy she had dreamed of signing Contract with. But for some reason, even though she was attracted to him, she wasn’t attracted to him.

Instead, for some strange reason, she kept seeing Sheila, or rather, Sean, in her mind’s eye. He was so manly, far more virile seeming than Miles Dareg.

Her eyes shifted across the mess hall to another table.

There he was, talking to Smith Richards. They were laughing, something she had never really heard Sean do before. It was a full sound that warmed her up inside. She had never realized that she was so cold until she heard that laugh, that wonderful, human laugh. It made warmth flood all through her body.

As though he felt her eyes, he stopped laughing and turned his head. Their gazes crossed and met.

She looked away quickly; sure that what she was feeling was somehow wrong.

This was Sheila, Grandmother’s daughter-turned-son. It was wrong for her to feel that way about him. Especially since she had never felt that way about Sheila before the change.

She had been taught that it was better to love the person inside than just a person’s body. So if these feelings were real, she should have felt something for Sheila before. Should have known something was there. Instead, she had always felt uneasiness in Sheila’s presence and a sense that she needed desperately to escape.

Yet the moment Sheila was turned from female to male, she wanted him. Was drawn to his attractiveness like some wild animal ruled by her body and not her mind.

Then again, Sheila had always been kind of bland, a shadow person. As a male though, it was as though he had come alive.

His name is Sean now; he’s different, she thought. There’s something more real about him.

He smiled at her and she felt her heart shudder to a stop. There was something there.

* * *

He wasn’t used to girls not being interested in him. It was a little disconcerting, but he wouldn’t let it get to him. He could already tell that she was interested in Sean, and that the feeling was reciprocated.

Besides, he wasn’t interested in any of the people here. He already had a lover, someone of who he was singly loyal to.

It just seemed odd that someone would ever be uninterested in him.

For most of his life he was seen as one of the best and the brightest, more beautiful than any normal person could imagine. Yet here he was, gloriousness personified, and she was falling in love with someone else. He didn’t know whether to be hurt or not.

Finally he decided that it didn’t really matter. He was happy with what he had, so why shouldn’t she be happy?

He shrugged and slowly broke one of the food cubes into small, microscopic pieces.

When he got back to his room, he thought that he might call in some real food. Something that he would be willing to eat, something with some taste to it.

His stomach rumbled and he had to smile. It had been a long time since he was actually hungry, and even now he knew that if he wished it, he didn’t need to be. He could live for months without food or water; all he had to do was wish it.

For now, he was willing to hold onto his hunger. It made him more like the people here and less likely to stick out. Besides, he found it rather amusing to be as vulnerable as a normal human.

Miles idly melted one of the food pieces into a glob. He knew that no one was watching what he was doing. Still, even while amusing himself, he was careful. He would be like the others for as long as he could manage it.

He wouldn’t be alone for as long as he could hold onto the Miles-persona. He would be one of them. Would have people around him that would like him for himself, and not worship and fear him for what he had been born as.

A smile curved his lips. It would be nice to be anonymous, just one more among many.

* * *

“What’s taking him so long to call?” Jocelin demanded, pacing back and forth, his hands fisted at his sides.

“Please calm down, Mr. Pierce, he said that it might take a few days to finish his business,” Balinar said, carefully refolding one of his lord’s shirts.

Joss threw himself on the bed and gnawed at his lower lip. It was a bad habit, one he had long since given up, yet here he was.

“How could he do this to me? I should be with him right now, not waiting here with you. I mean, how many times can you sort his clothes before going insane?”

Balinar turned and raised an eyebrow.

Joss looked at the man’s impeccable uniform and knew that he was a real sight by comparison. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was mussed. He knew that he was a wreck of his usually neat, perfect self.

He also knew that Balinar was just as antsy as he was. But the man wasn’t showing it; the only sign of his uncertainties was the way he kept sorting and re-sorting his lord’s clothes and possessions.

“You never become used to waiting,” Balinar said, “there’s always that same terrible feeling. It’s just that he has never left you behind before, so you don’t know what it’s like. I, on the other hand, am always left behind when you both go off adventuring.”

Jocelin sighed, he knew he was acting like a child. It was just that he had never been this completely alone before. “I just wish that he would at least send a message saying he was all right. I hate this waiting, it drives me crazy!”

The valet stepped close and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I understand your anguish, I feel it as well. But you have to be strong and know that he will be back.”

“I know, I know, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling the way I do. He’s so strong, and I’m not. I need him,” he turned and placed his hand over Balinar’s.

The man squeezed his fingers. “You have to be strong for him. He needs you to be there. No matter how strong he seems, he needs your love and support.”

Joss looked up into Balinar’s eyes. “He needs us both, not just me alone. We have to be strong for him.”

The man smiled and, for a moment, everything was all right.

* * *

“Are we sure about who he is?” Tristen asked.

“Truthfully? No. There’s no way we can be completely certain about anything, especially with our lack of information about the outside world.”

Grandmother looked at her second son Tristen, and raised an eyebrow. He had always been the suspicious sort. As a child, he used to skulk around like a spy from some holodrama. It had been funny really.

She knew that a government recruiter would have been after him in a flash. With his intelligence and natural talents, Imperial Intelligence would have loved him.

As it was, he had been forced to set aside his natural inclinations and grow up a normal person. Now though, he had someone to look at with mistrust, someone he hadn’t known his entire life. She rather thought he was enjoying himself immensely.

“Kat says he’ll get us out of here in three days,” Smith said. He was as stolid as usual, no doubts or uncertainties present on his face. Not that he wasn’t as suspicious about the stranger as Tristen was, he was just more able to mask his feelings.

Smith had been her good right hand practically from the day of his birth. A real godsend, the perfect son to help her in all of the things she needed, especially here on Hell where she had had only him to depend on for all of these years.

“How do we know that he’s not working for the pirates?” Tristen asked.

Grandmother shook her head. “He has a black Wand. Where would the pirates get one of those?”

He shrugged. “Maybe they killed the real messenger. There is no way to be sure he is who he says he is.”

“Tristen, calm down and think. We either trust him enough to believe he is who he says he is, or we don’t. Either way, we treat him hospitably and wait until the three days are up to see if his shuttles will come. In the meantime, we can pack up our things just in case,” Smith said reasonably.

She smiled at her son. He had always been so sensible. If something needed doing, he would do it as long as it needed doing. But there were no frivolous expenditures on his list of things to do.

“Mother, how do we know that this guy won’t do something before then?” Tristen aimed the question at her, knowing better than to expect that his brother would allow himself to share his worries.

Grandmother closed her eyes briefly and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Darling, you can’t spend all of your time thinking like a spook. Sometimes you have to trust in what people say. Of course we will keep a close watch on him, make sure he doesn’t do anything to put us all at risk. That’s simply the best we can do.”

He pursed his lips, holding silent, but his look was eloquent.

She shook her head. “Tristen, dammit, listen to me. If he is a representative of the Emperor, we simply cannot afford to turn him against us. He is our only hope of getting off this rock and back into circulation. And if he is not what he says he is, we will watch and find out.

“But Tristen, for now we have to take him at face value. He’s all we have. Our only chance out of here.”

Smith touched the younger man on the shoulder. “The survivor committee says that it will take another two hundred years to build a spaceable ship with the leftover parts of the colony ship. So unless you want to spend the next couple of hundred years baking in the sun, we have to trust that he is who he says he is.” Smith’s face went hard. “At least until he proves otherwise.”

Tristen obviously didn’t like the idea, but he said nothing. Just stared down at his fingers, hiding his face.

* * *

“Our informant sent news this morning. A ship has supposedly arrived to take them off planet. A representative of the Emperor has come as well,” the hard-eyed man said.

VanChesna examined the man closely. “Is the informer to be trusted? Mistakes have been made before.”

The man shook his head. “There’s no doubt in my mind. We have confirmed the presence of Jewel’s rep. There’s definitely at least one ship out there.”

“So,” Van tented his fingers in front of his face, “finally, we have the opportunity to leave this planet. All we have to do is get access to that ship.”

Once upon a time he had known the wonder of traveling through space. Had been one of the top independent merchantmen. Then had been the emergency landing on this rock, only to find out that his ship would never make a lift-off.

After twenty years, there was the chance of rescue. Unfortunately, the ship had turned out to be a colony vessel heading for some planet halfway from beyond.

He knew that it was his fault the colony ship had crashed. But it hadn’t been his fault that they were assholes that didn’t want anything to do with his people. Which was how he and his crew had become pirates, taking what supplies and tech they could manage to steal.

Now they were about ready to leave this desert world. Were about to become starfarers once again.

A grim smile twisted his lips as he thought about final freedom.

He wondered if he would be able to clear his conscience with a good life. He wondered, then realized that he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to get off this planet. To be out and about once more, listening to the silent whistle of the stars. To be back in civilization where everything seemed so much simpler, not to mention more comfortable.

TBC…

Summary: A representative of the Emperor has been sent to an out of the way planet populated by stranded colonists and bloodthirsty pirates. His job? To find one man.
Things do not go well.

p, li { white-space: pre-wrap; }

CHAPTER ONE

A boy. A boy alone, walking across the desert sands, no fear in his mind, a green light tingeing the air around him in a hazy curtain.

He wore a loose black cloak that covered him from head to toe, the hood drawn up, hiding his features from view, if anyone had been watching. Beneath the cloak he wore a plain black shirt, a sleeveless black tunic, black trousers and black boots. Tucked under the shapeless black garment he wore a black backpack filled with all of his worldly goods, or at the very least, the things that he thought he needed most as of this moment.

Walking, he was walking, a slow, languid stroll of a walk. It wasn’t a hurried walk, but it ate up the ground beneath his feet, sending him across the sand.

His lips were pursed as he whistled soundlessly to himself, his thoughts a million light-years away.

“Black on black,” he sang to himself, “silk on silk,/ I wander far away./ I do not know/ just what I’ll find,/ at the break of day./ I see the world,/ so far and wide,/ with a child-like vision/ of the way to be./ I wander into the darkness,/ I fight the monsters in the night,/ I know the creatures, dark and light,/ for I am a knight of the cloth,/ the crystal blue of flame./ My father is an Emperor-God,/ ruler of the world,/ the universe worships us,/ the Princes and Princesses of the Sun.”

At his own whimsical fancy, he had to laugh. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own idiocy. Singing made-up songs while crossing the surface of a desert planet alone.

He squinted his eyes across the blinding brightness of sun reflecting off the still crystal-grained sand and smiled. He was almost to the town.

The map he had used to find his way had been rather crude. It had been the handiwork of a child he had met back at the last desert town, but he didn’t really mind. The child at least had known the general direction of where he wanted to go, which was more than any of the other people he had asked directions from had been able to offer.

Few people wanted to risk their lives by traveling out into the middle of nowhere, especially with the pirates lurking out here, ready to swoop down on the unwary, and the settlement he was searching for was an isolated community deep in the desert.

The boy kept moving forward at his own implacable pace. Soon he saw the glinting lights of the sun reflecting off of binoculars. The townspeople had seen him.

Idly he wondered if they were going to try and kill him. Not that he really cared anyway, since it was impossible for them to lie and try to trick him. If they wanted him dead he would probably know about it before they did.

* * *

“So, is it a pirate, or what?”

Smith shrugged. “How can I possibly tell? All I know is that he or she is getting closer even as we speak.”

Grandmother frowned. “This could be very bad,” she said. “Bring up the point defenses and keep a lookout. He–and I’ll use that until we’re sure–he might be a scout for the pirates, or he might be one of the Emperor’s men.”

At the mention of the Emperor, everyone in the Meeting House made the sign of the Holy Sun.

“Oh, I hope he’s from the blessed Emperor,” a young woman cried, her eyes shining with hope. None of them had ever seen a real representative of the Emperor. The planet wasn’t an official member of the Empire and was visited only rarely by offworlders. Those who lived here were in effect trapped onworld, and this settlement was the furthest out in the killing desert, far beyond trade routes or visitors. They were alone except for the pirates that picked at them with frightening regularity.

Grandmother looked at her sadly, but she was so excited about her own thoughts that she didn’t notice.

It was more likely to be another set of pirates than one of the Emperor’s men. It had been sixty-four long years since any of them had seen anyone from the Empire, and through all of that time, she had been the “Grandmother”, the one that had kept everyone’s hopes up, but she was getting old now, old and tired of it all.

Though she still only looked to be in her mid to late thirties, she was actually one hundred and ninety-eight years old and only getting older. The prolong kept her physically young, but her mind… well, she had seen a lot of years and the cynicism was beginning to really get to her.

She didn’t want to bring anyone’s hopes down, but she could no longer hold the ideal of the Empire in her heart. Not and stay sane, what with the way the disappointment filled her mind with pain.

Gazing at her son, she was sad to see that he was as excited as the others were. Even just the prospect of seeing a representative of the Emperor had lifted all of their spirits like nothing she could ever think to do. And what would she do when they were all disappointed yet again? How could she hold onto them and keep their hopes alive? It was impossible, it was…

“Granny?”

She looked down at that young voice and met the eyes of her eight-year old great-great-great grandson Mavin. He was a cute little bugger and someday he would be a handsome man like his father. She had to admit that her good genes had really come through.

“What is it, pumpkin?” she asked, making her voice gentle. She didn’t want any of her skepticism to stain him. He was still young and full of hope. She didn’t want to take that away from him, not yet anyway.

The boy smiled at the endearment, but it slid off his face to be replaced with the worry that filled his mind. “It’s not pirates is it? I don’t want my daddy to die like Grampa did, I don’t.” He snuffled a little, but his eyes didn’t fill with tears. Children raised out in the desert were tougher than regular children. They had a harder life to face and they conformed to it.

She ruffled his hair. “I don’t know what to think,” she said truthfully. She saw no reason to lie to little children. If they were lied to too often, they would cease to believe what they were told, which was dangerous out here where there were no laws to govern the ways of life.

He frowned across the wall at the black blob heading steadily in their direction. It was impossible to see the figure clearly, but she saw that he was trying as hard as he possible could to tell if it was a pirate or someone from the Emperor.

She hugged him about the shoulders, not even minding the way that he tensed after a moment. He was still child enough to want to be comforted, but he saw himself as being old enough to take care of himself. It wouldn’t do to mess with his world image and explain to him that even the strongest of men cried when they thought no one was looking.

“It will be all right,” she said. “Don’t you worry.”

He nodded his head. His expression was still dubious and a little afraid. He was trying to be brave. There was something to be said for that.

* * *

Kaitlyn stared at the black cloaked figure that was standing about ten feet from the gate. He, she was sure that it was male from the way it moved, had stopped and was just staring at the gates as though waiting to see what they would do.

“Should we let him in or what?” she asked, knowing that she was being an impatient pest, but unable to help herself. She had to know if it was one of the Emperor’s men or not, she absolutely had to know.

Smith ran a hand through his bright red hair and shrugged his shoulders, looking at his mother. The Grandmother was looking down on the cloaked figure as though she had X-ray vision, but finally, she just shook her head.

“It’s impossible to tell if it’s an envoy of the Emperor or not,” she said. “Smith, send out a group to meet him and talk to him, and be wary, he might have pirate companions lurking about out there waiting for you to make a mistake.”

Smith nodded and turned to the rest of them. “All right, Jones, Merryweather, Faith, Charlie and…”

“Me.”

It took Kaitlyn a second to realize that she had just volunteered. It had barely sounded like her, as though her voice had been working on its own. But still, she knew that she absolutely had to know what was beneath that heavy cloak, Emperor’s man or pirate.

Smith looked at her for a moment, evaluating, then finally nodded. She sighed in relief; all she needed was to be told that she was “too young” for such a dangerous mission.

“All of you now, put on your armor and keep a close eye out; we can’t let any of you be lost. There are too few of us now as is, so I don’t want any stupid stunts, do you hear me? Kat?”

They all nodded, she a little abruptly. She hated the way he would always single her out and treat her like a child; it was hard enough as it was.

“Very well, good luck. Now, go get ready and get your butts out of here.” Finally Smith grinned at them all, blessing them with his white-toothed smile.

She hurried off with the others, heading into her own room and straight toward her closet where she had placed her armor.

Yanking the closet door open, her breath caught as it always did when she saw her armor. Fitted especially for her, it was made out of plasti-steel, almost completely invulnerable to attack.

It wasn’t as good as the armor the oldsters had–the ones who had been young when they were marooned out here in the middle of nowhere. They all had perfectly fitted combat armor, the kind that had automatic servos, an AI computer and built-in weaponry, though they had all long since run out of the specialized ammo their armor used while chasing off pirates.

No, her armor was handmade, but it was made for her, which made it almost as special as the combat armor the oldsters used. Though, secretly, in her heart she coveted a set of combat armor of her own and she someday hoped to have it. Now though, she had a mission to ready herself for.

She grabbed the padded pants and pulled them on, following them with the padded shirt, then the neck guard and the padded “booties” as they were laughingly called. Over the padding, she yanked on her first layer of armor, pants and shirt. Finally, she stepped into the one-piece set of armor and sealed it shut, closing out the world when she clamped her helmet down on her head.

Gazing out at the world through the semi-transparent plasti-shield that protected her face, she couldn’t help grinning. She loved her armor, wouldn’t have known what to do with herself if she didn’t have it to protect her from harm and make her as strong as any man.

The armor covered her entire body, from her neck down to the bottoms of her feet, which had been a little strange the first time she had tried it on. She smiled in memory. She had thought that it was rather like being a child in a pair of footed pajamas, that was until she realized the servos allowed her to lift as much as five hundred pounds. That was when she had first felt that amazing power, as though she was a god looking down on the world.

Though she was still a little jealous of some of the strong men–the biggest ones were able to lift as much as a thousand pounds, which she thought was rather unfair. It made her feel like a child in comparison to them, but she knew that she was still powerful.

Her eyes went wide when she realized how much time she had wasted daydreaming, and she raced out of the room, slamming the door behind her, though carefully. She doubted her mother would be happy with her if she managed to break her door again. Once had been embarrassing enough, but twice? Not in this lifetime, no way.

She thumped carefully down the stairs and hurried out the door, her legs pumping and the servos accentuating the movements, turning a rather swift walk into a gliding, ground-eating run that sent her across the courtyard in seconds.

She met up with the others in front of the gates. They had had to wait for her, but they were all older and they weren’t upset. They knew how it was for the young to go on a mission for the first time. But she knew that once they stepped out from behind the heavy, plasti-steel walls, she would be expected to act like an adult on pain of gruesome punishment.

No one had the luxury of being gentle out here, not when a little mistake could mean death, and not necessarily just for yourself, but for everyone with you. People depended on her to be strong and mature, and she wouldn’t disappoint them, no matter what.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, glad that Merryweather was nice enough to ask. He was usually a bit of an arrogant jerk, but he understood that this was her first real mission and he was actually being a bit human. She didn’t want to make him mad, not when he was being kind anyway. Besides, Smith was standing to one side of the gates, ready to open them, and he would hear her if she was being immature, and she would be sent away.

“All right, breathe deep everyone, check your weapons, and lets go…” Merryweather raised a hand, and when he brought it down, Smith had pulled back the bolts and the gates slid soundlessly open.

She swallowed in a suddenly dry throat and followed the others out to face the dangers of the world.

The cloaked figure stood where he was, unmoving. The hood turned his face to shadow, hiding what he looked like from her view. She wondered if he were terribly ugly.

“Why are you here?” Merryweather asked, his tone not quite as rude as the words he used.

The hooded head turned his way, the head cocked to one side as though listening. “I heard that you were out here and I wanted to see if it were true.” The voice was beautiful. “I wondered why you would want to live way out here in the back of the beyond with nothing to look forward to but sunburn.”

“Who did you hear about us from?” Jones asked, suspicious as always. That was probably why Smith had sent him. He never trusted anyone. Rumor had it that for a while he had been absolutely convinced that his wife was trying to poison him, though, knowing him, it might have been possible. He was so aggravatingly paranoid that his wife probably hated even the air he breathed.

The cloaked man shook his head slowly. “Just a boy that heard it from his father. I came out to investigate and see if the story was true–it wasn’t as though I had anything better to do.”

“You came out here on a whim? Don’t you realize how dangerous that could have been? Dressed all in black as you are, you might have gotten heatstroke and died.” Charlie was practically foaming at the mouth. He spent all day training children in ways to keep themselves alive, and now he was faced with either an idiot, or someone that really didn’t care about their own safety. It was a bad situation for him.

The figure laughed softly and Kat shivered. There was something so seductive about that laugh, as though he knew all of the secrets of the world.

“Will you offer me hospitality?” he asked finally.

“How can we be sure that we can trust you?”

Cloth ruffled and a hand appeared, holding a water bottle that sloshed when he shook it. “I offer the hospitality of water and salt, and the sacred bond that goes with it.”

Strangely enough, he didn’t hold the bottle out to Merryweather, who was obviously the leader of the group, but to Charlie. It was as though he knew that Smith valued Charlie’s opinion the most, which was impossible–how could he know such a thing?

Unless he was a kraeschul.

She felt excitement and fear flash through her. All of the kraeschuls, the Gifted aristocrats, were loyal to the Empire. They were all bonded to the Emperor on their fifth birthdays, when their Gifts manifested for the first time.

He seemed to have heard her, because that hooded head turned her way and she got the impression of a smile. She hurriedly looked away.

Charlie hesitantly reached out and accepted the bottle. He opened it and offered it back.

The stranger raised it to his shadowed face and took a drink. She could hear him swallow. Then he filled his mouth again, swished it around once in his mouth, and spit off to one side, the water arcing out in a clear, pure stream–an offering to the earth. He then handed the bottle to Charlie.

With one hand, Charlie released the catches of his helmet and lifted it off his head, revealing his well-tanned features. He was a fairly good-looking man, at least, he was considered attractive by their own people, which meant that he had a good position in the ranks, he was a sensible man, and he was fertile. She wondered what someone from another society would think about him; she didn’t know.

Charlie took a deep breath and raised the bottle to his own lips. He suddenly pulled it away, his lips glistening wet. “It’s cold!”

The stranger laughed. “An insulated bottle. I thought ahead.”

“But it’s like ice. It wouldn’t be that cold still, not after walking across the desert.”

“You’d be surprised at some of the things that we can do.”

Charlie shrugged and took a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he took a short sip, swished it around quickly, and spat off to one side. “We accept you into our home in the promise of peace and no harm,” he said. “Welcome stranger, please step this way.”

The stranger glided after Charlie, as though he weren’t even touching the ground. Kaitlyn had the weird impression that he wasn’t.

When they stepped through the gates, everyone was prepared. They had seen the water ceremony, but that didn’t mean they had let down their guards. They knew that pirates were canny and that they had no honor.

The children were kept well back, and it was only adults facing the stranger. He didn’t seem to even notice, his hooded head facing straight ahead.

Grandmother stepped forward. “Welcome stranger. Would you mind showing your face?”

“Certainly not,” the voice was male, melodious, like music. It was a beautiful voice, the kind that people couldn’t help but to listen to.

The figure reached up and pulled back its hood, the front of the cloak falling open seamlessly down his chest. Kat gasped in shock, hearing it echoed around her by the others when they got a good look at him.

It was a boy, so beautiful that it was almost painful. His hair was so blond it was nearly white, his eyes black, his nose straight and perfect, and he had such high cheekbones that she felt a flash of jealousy. He had a full lower lip and a narrow upper, and a semi-pointed chin. He was beautiful, but almost painfully thin, his body leanly built, his stomach concave.

But what was truly amazing was his skin, so fair that it was like new fallen snow. His lips stood out as a pale rose color. He looked as though he had never been out in the sun, which was amazing since he had crossed the desert sands with the sun blazing down on him. Against the black fabric of his clothes, the snowy complexion of his skin was eye-searingly pure. He was like winter walking through the world.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice whispery. She hadn’t known she was going to say anything until she heard her own voice.

She half-hoped that he hadn’t heard, but he turned her way and smiled. Her heart felt as though it had stopped in her chest. He was so beautiful that it was hard to believe that he could ever be just another person on the street. He was all of the myths of the Empire come to life.

“Are you from the Emperor?” she asked, unable to help herself.

He seemed to smile at a private joke. “I suppose that you could say that. My name is…” an almost indiscernible pause, “Miles Dareg. I am a representative of the Empire and it is my duty to travel from town to town to tally the population of this world.”

“Where’s your flitter or your aircar?” the Grandmother asked suspiciously. She had never been one to let a pretty face affect the way that she looked at the world.

He smiled faintly. “Well, I had a driver and a ‘car, but the man seems to have run off and abandoned me to find my own way.”

“How horrible!” Kat said.

He shrugged negligently. “There’s no reason to be upset. In fact, I would rather think that you should feel sorry for him. He can never go home again, since I am on a mission for the Empire and he left me out here.”

“Where are you from in the Empire?” Grandmother asked.

He shrugged. “Onyx-world.”

She looked at him out of her piercing eyes. “You don’t look like you’re from Bia.”

Miles grinned. “We have a new Prince Onyx. I’m from Pardal.”

“A new Onyx! What else has changed?” Old Barnell asked, hobbling forward on his crutches. He had lost his right leg in the battle against the pirates and they didn’t have the regen tanks to grow him a new one. Now he was just as crippled as someone from the pre-flight times, when they were all trapped on a single planet.

“Barnell! Please everyone, I know we all want to know what we might have missed in the universe, but he is a guest. Do not forget your manners. We have not fallen that far yet,” Grandmother said, stern as only she could be.

Everyone who had crowded forward slunk back shamefully. Just because they were living out in the middle of nowhere didn’t mean that they weren’t civilized. They were just… displaced.

The boy smiled a gentle, saintly smile. Nothing here seemed to bother him: not the sun and heat, or even the fact that almost everyone was armed and dangerous.

“Sheila,” Grandmother called, not raising her voice or looking away from the boy.

The tall, thin woman stepped forward. She wore loose trousers and a gauzy white shirt that shrouded her figure. She was attractive, though no one would ever think to call her beautiful or even pretty.

Back in the Empire, she might have gone to a facemaker or bodysculptor. As it was, she had to be happy with her natural looks.

Sadly, she had more problems than her appearance. When she was born, she was born with a perfectly formed set of male sexual organs as well as her female ones. The doctor at the time, who before had only been a fourth-rate medtech, clipped them off without saying anything to her parents first. Unfortunately, she was male in all but fact. She would have no children.

She was Grandmother’s oldest daughter, but should have been one of her middle sons. It was a real tragedy.

Kaitlyn swallowed; she had always been uncomfortable around Sheila. There was something so unsettling about her with her hopeless eyes.

All of the oldsters had known from the first that they needed females to bolster their numbers. So the medtech had made the decision that they needed one more girl over yet another boy. It was the wrong choice, since it left Sheila sterile and without some vital spark that every other living person had.

There was something so sad about Sheila that it was hard to look at her. Kat couldn’t really imagine what it must be like in Sheila’s head, and she was afraid to try and look. There was just such a bleak darkness there. Something terrible.

* * *

Miles Dareg looked at her as though he knew all of her secrets.

She quickly grabbed his hand and led him off through the crowd and into the main dormitory building. Some of the kids started to follow, but her mother stopped them.

Sheila was uncomfortable to be alone with him, so she wanted to take him to his room as quickly as possible. It was probably the fact that he was so beautiful, yet undeniably male. She would never have said anything out loud, but somewhere deep inside, she was jealous of him.

She led him up the stairs to the third floor.

The first floor was for the children, since it was closest to the privies. They didn’t have single bedrooms, just row upon row of beds and no privacy. The second floor was for the young adults, with small rooms more like closets than anything else; there was only space in them for single beds and the trunks that held all their worldly possessions. The third floor was for true adults, men and women of rank. They each had a double bed, a clothes trunk, a wardrobe and a chair.

The scouts and fighters were barracked in a separate building. The scouts had their own rooms because they were in high-risk positions and could be killed at any moment, which left them deserving of some kind of compensation for the risk they took every time they went on duty. The fighters had a long hall filled with bunks, almost as though they were children again.

Sheila herself had a room on the third floor of the main dormitories, just down the hall from the room this boy was being assigned. A room all to herself–yet another sign that she was different from everyone else; that she was a freak.

“Here is your room,” she said, opening the door and gesturing him in. “I’m sure that it’s not as nice as you’re used to, but…”

“But nothing, it is supremely adequate for my needs and I couldn’t ask for anything more.” He touched her arm gently. She shivered and barely refrained from jerking her arm away. There was nothing but warm friendship in the touch, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

She positioned herself next to the door, waiting to see if he was going to need anything.

He sat on the bed, bouncing up and down a few times before smiling and shrugging out of his cloak. She blinked at all of the black clothes. Even though she had been born after they were abandoned out here, she recognized expensive clothing from what her mother had told her and shown her in still-pics. He was wearing a fortune as though it were nothing.

He stretched hugely and tossed his cloak over to the chair, then set his backpack aside. Finally he looked at her and patted the spot beside him on the bed. She stood there, not wanting to get near him.

“Come on, it’s nothing like that. I want to talk to you, that’s all.”

She licked her lips and came to sit next to him, careful not to let any part of herself touch him. As she sat there, she felt a strange coldness radiating from him, as though the heat didn’t reach him.

“So, can you tell me just how exactly you all came to be way out here?” he asked.

Sheila shivered at the sound of his voice. It was so incredibly beautiful. She drew in a deep breath. “Well, it was about sixty-six years ago. We were to establish the first levels of a colony on a planet designated Alpha-917. We were supposed to set up a Gate, then wait for the second wave of colonists to arrive. With them they were going to bring all of the supplies we could possibly need, so all our ship held were the Gate parts and a few emergency supplies.

“Anyway, my father was going to be the leader of the colony. They were like a wagon train heading out into the wilderness. He was going to be the governor of the colony, but until they reached their final destination, the ship’s captain was in charge, his every word law. My mother was to be the colony botanist. When a distress beacon was detected coming from this world, she and my father asked the captain to be careful of any hostilities. The man didn’t listen and the pirates managed to cause the ship to crash. They were the ones that had sent the distress beacon.

“During the battle with the pirates, half of the oldsters and a third of the children were killed. The survivors salvaged as much as they could from the ship and were forced to cross the desert to reach here and dubious safety. Along the way, thirty more people died from dehydration, exposure, contaminated water, reaction to the natural flora and fauna, and a kill-squad of pirates that chased them. It’s a miracle that anyone survived at all,” Sheila said.

“Was this originally an oasis?” Miles asked, his eyes bright.

She nodded. “Yes, a rather large one at that. They were lucky to find it before the sandstorms really began to hit.”

“You were born here?”

“Yes. I’m lucky that my mother had that prolong implant in her womb, or I’d be an old woman now. Some of the others weren’t so lucky–their mother’s weren’t prepared so they weren’t treated; they’ve aged at the normal human rate.”

He winced. Age was something the Empire had long since overcome, but situations like this really showed how delicate the balance truly was.

“How many are prolong and how many not?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Fifty-three prolong, seventy-eight not.”

He rubbed his face hard. “By Rian! Is that just second-gen numbers?”

She nodded. “There are fifteen oldsters and they’re all treated.”

Miles shifted so that he was up on one elbow. She edged away instinctively before she got a hold of herself.

“What time is dinner?” he asked.

She glanced down at her chrono, which had once belonged to her father since she didn’t have a databand of her own. “We eat at six here–that’s in an hour and a half.”

“Thank you.” Miles smiled at her, suddenly appearing young. Before, he had been sort of ageless to her eyes, beautiful as a statue. But with that smile, she saw how young he was. He looked to be only about eighteen or nineteen. A child.

She also saw how incredibly delicate he was. There was something so fragile about him, frail. At the same time, there was a strength in his eyes that gleamed out, belying the slenderness of his build.

Looking at him, she wondered how she could ever have been afraid, even by such a little bit. There was gentleness in his eyes and face, like the light of an angel. His rose petal lips parted slightly, his fair skin gleamed from the inside out, and she couldn’t look away.

“I can feel your unhappiness,” that beautiful voice said, so softly that she had to strain to hear, so softly that it was all she could hear. “Do you want me to make it better for you?” he asked. “Do you truly want to be what you should have been?”

She must have shown agreement somewhere in her eyes because he smiled and sat up.

She couldn’t move, not even when he reached out and laid one hand on her forehead and the other over her heart. Usually she couldn’t bear even the thought of someone seeing her hated woman’s parts, but she didn’t mind when the side of his hand brushed her left breast in passing. There was nothing sexual to it.

“What am I going to do?” he said, as though she had asked. “I’m going to fix what’s wrong with you and give you the chance to be what you should always have been. Quiet now, let me concentrate.”

He sat still, his eyes huge in her vision. They were large and black, swelling until she could see nothing else. There were just these black orbs, glowing like polished ebony, sparkling with the light within.

~do not fear,~ his voice resounded in her mind.

Heat seemed to burn through his hands, flaring through to touch her heart, to scorch her brain. His face glowed and his eyes were huge.

She seemed to feel a wind flowing through the room, her skin prickled and her clothes rippled. His face was serene and not even one single hair on his head moved. He was immobile, so still that he didn’t even seem to breathe.

~open up to me.~

She felt as though she were muffled in silk. Without thought, her mind opened under his probing and suddenly she was no longer alone in her brain.

Light, blinding light. Her heart beat so loud that she couldn’t even hear it anymore, just felt a vibration down her spine.

He touched her everywhere, and where he passed, she changed.

Warmth flooded her. The outside world was forgotten. All there was, was that terribly bright light. Light, light and more light…

Awareness came back, the world revisited.

“What happened?” strange voice, husky and deep, almost unfamiliar.

He was sitting cross-legged, his eyes bright as he watched Sheila. He smiled gently and said nothing.

Gradually the knowledge came that something was different. The world was somehow changed.

Sheila raised hands and touched a face that wasn’t the same as it had always been, new angles and plains had been added. Eyes wide, Sheila ran a hand down over neck and chest and finally between legs.

“Oh my God!”

A man. She was a man!

Tears filled his eyes as he felt his body with disbelieving hands. Wondering joy filled him as he explored his newly changed body. Without thought, his hands went to his crotch as he explored his new, male self.

“You’re fully operational and no longer sterile,” Miles said.

Sheila blinked back tears and stared at his savior. Breath felt hard in his chest, but he couldn’t help the joy that filled him. “Thank you, oh thank you!”

The other smiled. “Your secret wish is finally fulfilled. You may have a child of your own.”

Sheila grinned exultantly, then blinked in shock when he felt a response beneath his exploring hands. He stared down at his quickly tenting trousers, amazed. He was a true man.

Miles Dareg laughed gently and rose up on his knees to come close. His arms closed around Sheila, holding him tightly as a father might a beloved child. And for once, Sheila did not have that instinctive reaction of distaste; did not pull away in self-disgust and terror. For once it actually felt good to be hugged.

“What’s going on here?” Kaitlyn’s voice from the door.

She froze to see two men embracing: one the stranger, the other dressed in familiar clothes, but no one she knew, not immediately.

“Oh.” Her breath caught when Sheila looked up. “Oh.”

He was handsome, so incredibly handsome. The looks that had made him a rather plain woman made him a strikingly good-looking man. Gleaming black hair fell about his shoulders. His eyes were so green, like new grown grass. His skin was sun darkened to a rich golden-brown. The hawk nose that had always looked rather forbidding on a woman was now elegantly imposing. His features were eye-catching, filled with a masculine beauty.

Sheila had always been tall and thin, but now his shoulders were broad, and though he needed to add a little weight, it was impossible not to see how beautiful his body was. Long and lean, like a panther, feline and unconsciously sensual.

Kat couldn’t help staring. “Sheila?”

The other smiled, revealing strong white teeth. “Kaitlyn, look what he has done for me,” he said.

Kat flushed at the sound of that voice, a lyrical baritone with just a hint of the husk that had always been there. It was a wonderful voice, pure sex. Heat flooded her body. She had to blink hard a few times and strain to catch her breath. She was unexpectedly aroused and had to wonder what had gotten into her.

Miles moved back with languid grace, watching her watch Sheila with amused eyes. He knew what she was feeling. She could only be glad that he didn’t say anything about it.

“Um, we, um, your mother wants you.” She was careful not to meet the stranger’s eyes, but couldn’t help staring at Sheila. Nothing could have made her look away, not even her own embarrassment.

“Oh yes. Mother. She’ll be so surprised.” Sheila leaped to his feet, then stumbled slightly. It took him a moment to catch his balance, adjusting to his new form. “Come on, both of you, come on.”

He grabbed Miles’ arm and pulled the boy to his feet. There was raw adoration in his eyes and he was careful not to bruise the boy’s flesh with his newfound strength.

“Let me grab my bag first,” Miles said, slinging the backpack over his shoulder before following.

Kaitlyn stumbled out of Sheila’s way, unable to look away from him. She felt as though her eyes were bugging out of her head. They probably were.

She hurriedly followed the other two out, almost tripping over her own feet. She couldn’t have explained why she was feeling the way she was. She only knew that powerful things were happening inside of her.

* * *

The meeting hall was jammed with people. There was a long table set up front where Grandmother, Smith, Old Barnell, Lilias, Parri and Saranth sat waiting. When the double doors opened, they all looked up, surprised to be interrupted.

“Oh, Sheila, thank you for bringing…” Grandmother stopped, her eyes going wide as her voice drifted off into silence.

Sheila strode into the room, grinning whitely. Everyone stared at him in shock.

“What… what happened?” Grandmother asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Sheila hurried forward to grab his mother’s hands where they rested on the table. “Mother, look what he has done for me! I am whole now, complete.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then slipped one hand out of his. He held still when she touched his cheek then skimmed her hand down his neck, over his collarbone, and lightly touched his chest. He kept his eyes on hers and she felt where his breasts had been, but where only flat chest remained. Her hand jerked back.

“How… Without a full biosculpt, nanos, how?”

Sheila shook his head and turned to point at the stranger that stood behind and off to one side.

Grandmother looked at the boy, her brows arched. “How then? How did you do it?”

Miles shrugged as though it were nothing. “I’m Gifted and I was entrusted with a Delivery Wand.”

She just looked at him for a long moment, ignoring the surprised and awed gasps and murmurs. They all knew that Delivery Wands created and dispensed nanos for organic and inorganic restructuring and repair, but they were only given to certain people because nanos could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

“Will you show me your Wand?” she asked.

He looked thoughtful, then reached over his shoulder into his bag to pull out a black Wand case. It was long and thin with a thumbprint lock; no one else could open it but him. She knew that all such cases were made out of plasti-steel and were practically indestructible, and if someone–somehow–managed to get the case open, it would self-destruct, killing everyone in a ten foot radius. There were no mistakes were a Delivery Wand was concerned. Even the weakest of Wands could be dangerous.

Miles Dareg almost negligently popped the case open and pulled out his Wand. Her breath caught in her throat to see it.

The Wand was about a foot long, cylindrical with centimeter long prongs on the end. The prongs sparkled silver in the light, needle-sharp and vicious looking.

Usually Wands were black with a colored stripe just behind the prongs. The color represented what kind of nanos the Wand produced. A red stripe for nano-bots meant for simple surgery and machine repair–the kind of nanos that could splice together and heal a cut or repair a broken circuit, nothing very difficult. An orange striped Wand produced organic nanos for body repair. It was used to regrow lost limbs and eyes, or repair simple body-damage, and was commonly called a Medic’s Wand. A green Wand produced nano-bots for machine creation and repair. The nano-bots could change a bit of rock into some kind of machine. And a brown Wand gave the power to make both organic and inorganic nanos. The nanos were powerful enough to repair almost all harm that could come to a human body, and could repair or create most any machine out of an inorganic substance. The brown Wand was most often call the Refiner’s Wand because it could refine almost all organic and inorganics.

But the Wand the boy held so negligently… it was of a kind so rarely given out that it was almost legend.

“Black Wand,” she whispered, unable to resist the reverence that filled her to see such a thing.

As all Wands, it was a black cylinder, but it didn’t have a stripe of color just before the twin prongs–the nano injectors. It was completely black.

Black Wands were so rare and so important that each one was given out by the Emperor’s own hand, signifying his absolute trust, because they could be more than just dangerous. They held the power of the universe.

With a black Wand, a person could create life, could terraform entire worlds with the powerful nanos. For the black Wands commanded all of the powers of the others, plus nanos for genetic restructuring capabilities. The Wand could create clones of everyone who’s gene glyph was on file. It could be used to create life from scratch, a new, better race of humans. Which was why black Wands were given out so rarely: the possibilities for misuse were astronomical.

The Wand was also capable of high level machining. With the proper raw materials–say a large asteroid largely made out of nickel iron–the black Wand’s nanos could create a starship.

Black Wands could be used for so much good, but there was the very real danger of misuse. That was why they were given out so rarely and only to those with Imperial favor. Not to mention someone who had the Imperial trust not to abuse the powers bestowed.

“Who are you, boy? Who are you?”

Miles smiled slightly, though it didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Who do you think I am?”

Grandmother bit her lip. “You’re the direct representative of the Emperor, aren’t you? He sent you here to us.”

He stepped forward to caress her cheek with one hand, the Wand held negligently in the other. “I am many things to many people,” he said enigmatically.

Grandmother looked up at him with dark eyes. “You are a savior to my daugh… son, and I thank you.”

Sheila reached out to touch his hand. “She’s right. You fixed me and I’ll always be grateful for that. Thank you, thank you.”

Miles smiled, a real smile that shone brightly from his eyes and face. “You don’t have to thank me. From the minute of my arrival, you’ve all been under Imperial protection. In a few weeks or months the operation would have been done by a bodysculptor. I just speeded up the process, that’s all.

“Still, I thank you.” Sheila stepped close and hugged him tightly. There were tears of gratitude in his eyes as he held Miles close. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Grandmother felt tears welling in her own eyes. For the first time since his birth, Sheila was actually happy. He had always been so moody and dark, now he was so happy that it beamed from him.

After a minute Miles pulled away slightly. “You might like to choose a new name, since Sheila is no longer completely appropriate.”

Sheila ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve always liked Sean. It was my uncle’s name.”

Miles smiled. “Very well. I hereby declare you Sean Argenta. Welcome to your new life, make what you will of it.”

Sheila, newly Christened Sean, grinned, nearly breaking Rosemary’s heart. Her son was so beautiful, was finally what he had always been meant to be, that it was a complete joy.

She pressed a hand against her lips, staring at her son. A handsome young man, perfectly made, with a lively face and bright eyes. As Sheila, he had always been rather stiff and inexpressive. There had been a quality about him/her that had made people uncomfortable. As though she were incomplete, a much needed part of her soul missing.

Now though, he was complete. It was obvious, just looking into his eyes, that there was no longer a gaping hole inside of him. He was all there, body, mind, and soul. That was what made him so beautiful now, the fact that he was showing himself, wasn’t hiding any bit of who he was. His soul shone out of his eyes like a light, as purely beautiful as a dream.

Looking into his eyes, seeing him as a whole person, she though of herself. Remembered who she had once been years and years ago.

Born Rosemary Delacroix, she had chosen botany as her profession of choice. And when she was twenty-seven, she met her first husband Alfred Richards. Alfred was a handsome, intelligent man that everyone had loved, herself included. It was with him that she had her first son, Smith.

They were happy in their time together, but eventually their passions faded. And though they would probably always love each other, they didn’t “love” each other.

Next she had married the man that she had expected to spend the rest of her life with. Robert Argenta had been a wonderful, beautiful man that shared her life choices, having been a botanist himself. She had loved him with all of her heart, and with him she had had her other children and decided to be the botanical study team leader for a group of colonists. And with him she had been trapped out in the middle of nowhere on this nothing world.

It was here that she had had Tristen, Sheila, Paul, and her only real daughter, Danielle. Five beautiful children, one before she arrived here, four after.

It was when Danielle was twelve that Robert had died. And the funny thing was, if they had been back in the Empire, he would have lived. Even just one day in a regen tank would have kept him alive and she wouldn’t be so alone.

He had been dead for twenty-nine years and it still hurt. Over time, she had forgotten who she was, had drowned herself in her pain. Now, looking in her son’s face, she felt as though she had found herself all over again.

Without a word, she stood up, walked around the table, and grabbed him in a tight embrace. “My son, my beautiful son.”

* * *

Sometimes he wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. Wondered if his father would even recognize him or care.

Miles glanced down at his Wand, glossed ebony with silver prongs. The tips of the prongs sparkled with lethal sharpness, making it an instrumental that could both hurt or heal.

He didn’t need the Wand to do most of the things he could do, but just holding it in his hand made him feel stronger. The energy radiating out of it left his palm itching and tingling. He could feel the nanos twisting and turning in their ebony prison. Could feel the possibility of what they were and what they could do tingling up his arm and straight into his brain.

He could see them dancing in his mind’s eye. Knew that they wanted to be brought into reality, wanted some kind of form and function.

He tightened his grip on the Wand, sending out a soothing message to the might-have-beens. They quieted with a few child-like whining complaints.

They so wanted to live and be, to have what everyone else seemed to take for granted. No one realized how lucky they were simply to be able to breathe. To laugh and sing and dance was a miracle of grand proportions.

It was when he spoke to creatures not yet born that he truly knew how blessed he was. The need in them was so great that he barely restrained himself from making them all possible. With a twist of his mind, he could bring to life all of the creatures of imagination. Could fill a universe with gryphons, unicorns, dragons, and anything else that people believed in.

The human mind is a powerful thing, imbibing a kind of life to what they believed in. Billions of people had once believed in a mythical being called the Santa Claus. They believed so strongly that there really was a jolly fat man that he might have been real. And Miles could take that image and all of the belief that went with it, and breathe life into the idea.

He could make Santa Claus into a living, breathing person. And it wouldn’t even take very much effort.

When he looked at the Wand, he saw all of the shadows of might-have-been. He could see all of the things that he could do with the Wand enhancing his power of Making.

There were so many things he could do. His natural gifts had him wielding the power of a god with effortless ease. Take when he changed Sheila/Sean. He hadn’t bothered to use the Wand, hadn’t needed to.

A normal, unGifted person could use a Wand to do some of the things that he could do naturally. Allowed them to experience the process of creation through artificial means.

He, of course, could go far beyond creation with a Wand. He could make himself into a living god.

* * *

Kat watched the stranger. Saw how handsome and strange he was, a mystery.

For her entire life, she had known all of the people around her. The only strangers were pirates she didn’t want to know. But this boy, man really, though he didn’t look it, carried more responsibility and power than she could even imagine.

Looking at him, she had to admit that he was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. So beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.

She touched her own mass of dark brown hair, which was thick and rather coarse. His hair rippled like silk, so blond it was almost white–no, it was white.

He was looking down at the Delivery Wand, which glistened blackly under the lights.

She hadn’t quite understood what a Wand was until she had seen Sheila/Sean. The transformation was amazing.

She looked over at Sean who had become an extremely strong and virile man. He radiated life and energy where before there had just been a kind of void there. An emptiness that showed no heat or cold, just a great big empty.

Now the life glowed out of his eyes.

She had always thought that Sheila was rather plain, almost ugly. Though now that she thought of it, she realized that Sheila might have been rather pleasant looking if she had worn a little makeup and had had a little more expression in her eyes.

Now here she was, a beautiful man that Kat couldn’t help admiring.

Kaitlyn hurriedly averted her eyes from Sean, wondering what was wrong with her.

All of her life, she had been told that she would someday have to mate. That as a fertile female, she would be needed to add to the population. Would have to have at least two children.

Always she had been a little leery of the future and the need to mate. Had always wondered what kind of man would be chosen for genetic compatibility. But it had always been a kind of distant thing that had no real bearing on her life. Not yet, anyway.

Now she was looking at Sean and felt heat flood through her.

She wondered what his mouth would taste like.

TBC…

Yeah, this is kinda really rough and I really need to go through it, but it is what it is. My brain opened up one day and spewed out a bunch of space opera, yo. Enjoy it. Live it. Maybe possibly love it?

This series of stories was started a while ago and really shows it. My writing style has changed over the years, but my love for Jewel and his children has lingered. So if you think that it’s like two different people have been writing at this, they kind of have been. Young Me and Old Me picking up a story and carrying it.

Summary: A representative of the Emperor has been sent to an out of the way planet populated by stranded colonists and bloodthirsty pirates. His job? To find one man.
Things do not go well.

PROLOGUE

The stars passed by as blurs of light, silent but reverberating through his mind. He stood in the observation bubble with his hands behind his back, staring out at the starscape, watching the universe slip past him.

This is what space travel is truly all about, Van thought. It’s not really about getting from point A to point B; it’s about being able to look out there and know that you’re surrounded on all sides by space. That you’re not the end of all ends; you’re just a bit of flotsam floating through the nothingness, searching for a place to rest.

 This mission was what he had been working his entire life towards. He had gone through years of training and decades of short Jump trade missions all for this. The long haul from Mendall World to Zimfer Station.

 He knew that he was young for the responsibility and that nepotism had a lot to do with his getting the post, but he didn’t care. He knew that he was going to do a good job, he was going to get his ship to Zimfer with no complications.

 Just as he was thinking that, a ship-wide alarm began to wail, loud and grating on the nerves. A chill went through him. That particular alarm was only used in the direst of emergencies. Something really bad must have happened.

 He took one last look at the peace of the stars out the viewport, then turned and began running toward the bridge.

 “What’s happening?” was the first thing out of his mouth as he charged onto the bridge.

 McBride looked up from his display, his face chalk white. “We got problems, sir. The computer’s spitting out bad data and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 “What do you mean?” Van asked, sitting down in his chair and calling up an echo of McBride’s display. “I don’t see any anomalies.”

 The big man blew out his breath and began running his finger over the display, highlighting various sets of numbers. “These are wrong, sir. I checked them in the Log Book three times–we’re so far off course that it’s a wonder we haven’t fallen off the edge of the universe. And when I tried to get Mandy to let me re-numerate, she booted me off the system with a UAA.” (An Unauthorized Access Attempt.) “She says that I no longer have access to her Main Brain.”

 The Log Book was a datachip completely isolated from the rest of the system and held a tamper-proof copy of the flight plan. The Log was carefully stored on three separate ‘chips, one on the bridge, one in the Captain’s cabin, and one on the main lifeboat. It existed so that if the computer’s navigational matrix ever developed a glitch, so adroitly called a “hiccup,” the coordinates could be re-input by hand if necessary.

 Van drew in a deep breath. “Uh, have you run the virus check programs on her?”

 “First thing,” McBride said. “There’s no little critters eating out her insides, sir. She’s working perfectly–except that she no longer allows me access, she’s running on a bunch of wrong numbers, and she’s talking funny.”

 “‘Talking funny?’” Van quirked an eyebrow, his lips pursing slightly.

 “Listen to her for yourself,” the man said, tapping a key. That was another strange thing. Van had never seen McBride use the keypad before; he always used the direct neural interface. The only reason he would use the keypad was if he was afraid the computer might try to brain-fry him. It had been known to happen, unauthorized users were not treated lightly by the AI.

Hello, my name is Amanda. I am a TX-40 starship computer registered to the Thorne Trade Consortium. I was installed into the merchant ship Syren in the year 5337 and have been running for approximately twenty-two point four-three-seven years.

I was designed for maximum navigational efficiency and pleasant interaction with a human crew over long voyages. I run most of the onboard systems of the Syren, including the…

“Is this for real?” Van asked, looking up.

 McBride shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her and there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s blocked my access. I hope there’s something you can do with your command override codes.”

 Van drew in a deep breath. He was the captain. He was in control. He could do this.

 “Turn down that racket!” he yelled over his shoulder at Remmy, who had been sharing the watch with McBride. Immediately the alarm’s volume was lowered to a bearable hum.

 “All right,” he said, turning back to the display. “Let’s put things to rights.”

 Patrick VanChesna, Captain of the Merchantman Syren, authorization code TPVC-287834wEyq8ew7

He wasn’t very good with the keypad, but he managed to input the data. He checked the authorization code over twice and it was correct. He couldn’t help feeling a bit pleased with himself. Even working with the barbarically crude keypad, he was still techno-savvy.

 Amanda automatically spit out her reply, a string of numbers and letters that made no sense. It looked as though she had just vomited out the alphabet.

 “What does this mean?” he asked, looking at McBride.

 “I have no idea,” McBride said. He was monitoring Van’s display at his own station. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He was frowning so hard that it was a wonder his face didn’t fall into the line between his brows.

 “All right,” Van said, blowing out his cheeks. “Let’s ignore this for now and see if she’s going to allow me access.”

 He tapped his commands into the keypad, trying to call up Amanda’s Main Brain directory.

Unauthorized Access Attempt!

You are illegally attempting to access property of the Thorne Trade Consortium. If you do not cease and desist, you will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Thank you. Have a nice day!

“Shit!” Every UAA created a five-minute loop in the system where no one was allowed access. They were going to have to wait five minutes before they could try the Main Brain again.

 “All right,” he said. “We better call in the rest of the bridge crew and try to figure out what we’re going to do.”

 McBride looked around, as though expecting the missing crewmembers to magically appear. “That’s funny, sir, they should have already been here. The emergency alarm should have brought them to the bridge first thing.”

 Van felt all of the color draining out of his face and turned to Remmy. “Hurry Rem, call up a schematic of the bridge crew’s location.”

“Something stinky’s going on,” the young man muttered. Without even thinking, he began to transmit orders via his neural implant.

“Wait!” Van yelled, but it was too late.

There was a choked off scream and Pascal Remington collapsed twitching to the deck, his eyes staring and his mouth open. Blood ran unchecked from his nose and ears and he was barely breathing.

 Van flipped the man over and began checking him for damage, already knowing it was too late.

 “There’s nothing you can do, sir,” McBride said sadly, kneeling beside him. “He’s been completely brain-fried. There’s not enough brain cells left in him to scrape together to make a vegetable. He’s toast.” The man stood up. “We better get back to finding the crew. There’s nothing we can do for Remmy.”

 Van stared down at the man that had not exactly been a friend, but who he had taken responsibility for. This was the first time someone had died on his watch. It was horrible, worse than he had ever imagined.

 He drew in a deep breath and stalked back over to his chair, angrily dashing tears from his eyes. He had a duty to perform. The rest of the crew needed him. He was the Captain.

 “All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, making his voice sound calm and in control, as though he really knew what he was doing. “You’re better with the computer than I’ll ever be, so you head down to the Computer Room and try a manual access, while I run a deck by deck search for crew. Whoever I find, I’ll enlist to help me find more. We’ll stay in communication through our databands and NIs. Warn everyone you see not to trust the com systems, and to definitely not try a direct interface with the bitch.”

 McBride nodded. “Okay, sir. I’ll see you later, then.”

 Van watched the older man leave, then slumped a little where he stood.

 He didn’t know what he was doing. The regs didn’t exactly handle a situation like this. He was a merchie ship-handler, for Gord’s sake! This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen, not to him, and not to his crew.

 He drew in a deep breath and forced his shoulders square. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, but it was. He was going to have to handle it without panicking. He had people depending on him.

 With a purposely confident and undaunted stride, he left the bridge. He had to follow his own orders. He would fall apart later, if there was time. He was in command here.

* * *

Euan McBride climbed down the ladder, the tool kit clipped to his belt bringing him a little off-balance. He had tried to use the lift, but the doors had refused to open, something he was rather grateful for now. With the way Amanda was acting he didn’t trust her not to send him hurtling from one end of the ship to the other to end up as a gravity jellified mishmash of blood and guts at the end of his journey.

 What is wrong with you, girl? he thought. Is it your core programming, or are you just suffering from a virus your scanners haven’t been able to detect?

 There was no answer, just more ladder to climb down.

 By the time he reached the hatch with the large “12″ painted on it in lurid yellow, his arm muscles were screaming and he was a little short of breath. He had been taking this voyage pretty easy, not hitting the gym as often as he probably should have. Now he wished he had exercised more.

 He took deep breaths as he wrapped his left arm around a ladder rung, locked his elbow, and reached down into his tool kit with the other. He unsealed the plasti-steel case and dug through it to find the set of suction grips and the pressure regulator.

 First he stuck the pressure regulator to one corner of the hatch, thumbing the switch to on. Indicator lights flashed across the gizmos’ surface and he whistled soundlessly between his teeth as he waited, his ears popping occasionally as the pressure changed around him. The regulator was creating a bubble around this side of the hatch and the other. The pressure inside the bubble was equalizing, and when it was the same on both sides, it would be possible for him to open the hatch even onto a zero oxygen atmosphere. Not that he would ever want to do something like that, not unless he was wearing a hard suit and carrying a few extra cans of oxygen for when he was blown out into space.

 When the pressure regulator made the “All Clear” sound and the lights flashed green, he stuck his suction grips to the hatch, one on each side of the opening line. He carefully balanced on the ladder as, with a grunt of effort, he used the grips to force the hatch open.

 McBride peered through the open hatch, but didn’t see anything. He hoisted himself in.

 He sat on the corridor floor for a moment, catching his breath. Then he reached back through the open hatch and pulled the pressure regulator free, tucking it back into his tool kit. He then used the suction grips to close the hatch tightly shut.

 He had about half a minute to wait while the pressure bubble shrunk in upon itself, mixing the pressure inside with the pressure outside. He had set the regulator to give him a short bubble space. He could have set it to give him up to a three-hour bubble, one that was completely uncontaminated for that entire length of time, and a bigger machine could have given him a longer bubble time then that if he had wanted.

 As it was, he was tapping his heels impatiently as the bubble dissipated into itself. When it was finally gone and his ears had stopped popping, he climbed to his feet and hurried down the corridor toward the Computer Room.

 He tried to ignore how eerie it felt to be traveling through these well-lighted, but completely uninhabited corridors. Usually there were men hurrying down these hallways busily, wearing abstracted expressions, frowns, or grins as they went about their duties. Now there was no one, just him all alone. It was a bit creepy.

 Euan pressed his hand against the touchpad outside the Computer Room’s hatch and almost raced inside when it opened. Anything to get out of that lifeless corridor.

 Looking around him, everything looked all right. The lights had come up as he entered and there weren’t any dead bodies lying around, anyway.

 He settled into the seat in front of the main console and slid back the top of the desktop to reveal the ancient style keyboard that all ships had to have for safety reasons. For once, he was glad of the anachronistic bit of tech.

 “All right, you bitch, let’s go,” he muttered, and began inputting data as fast as he could. The keyboard was slow and awkward, but it was all he had to use. It had to be good enough. He wasn’t about to plug his brain into that monster, not after what had happened to Remmy. The kid hadn’t even had a chance to realize his mistake before he was twitching on the floor with his brain oozing out his ears. That wasn’t how Euan McBride was going to go, no way.

 After fifteen sweat-soaked minutes, he knew that they were royally screwed.

Amanda had been purposefully Killed, and that was putting it mildly. She was infected with so many cross-purposed commands that she was literally tearing herself apart. About the only clear-set command she had in her was the one that wouldn’t let her accept any help from her human crew.

 “Who did this to you?” McBride whispered. “Who did this to us, and why?”

 Finally, with a heavy heart and tears filling his eyes, he made up his mind and shattered the protective seal over the Manual Override button. Once he pushed the MO, Amanda would be completely wiped and the system would revert to a simple command-and-accept computer. They would have to manually input all of the coordinates and keep a careful eye on the functions Mandy would have normally performed, but they’d be alive.

“Good-bye, sweetheart,” he said, and slapped his hand down on the large red button.

 The screen blanked in front of him and the lights flickered around him. His heart felt so heavy in his chest that it was a wonder it didn’t fall down around his knees. He was going to miss the Amanda so much. She had practically been a friend.

 When the lights came back up, he felt terror go through him. A few drips of urine trickled down his leg and he felt as though he were about to have a heart attack. His breath came loud in his ears and he just kept saying “Oh no, oh no” over and over again.

 The screen, which should have either been blank or had a command prompt asking him to input data, was instead covered in bright red text.

 Unauthorized Access Attempt!

You have attempted to Manually Override my systems; that is not allowed. Security has been informed of your infraction and you are hereby warned to vacate the premises. In exactly four minutes a deadly neuro-toxin will flood the Computer Room. You are denied further access. You have been terminated. Have a nice day!

“Oh shit!” he said. Strangely, his voice was almost calm in his own ears. He was just about to die. There was nothing special about that.

 He had about three and a half minutes to try and get into Amanda’s system, then he had better get his ass out of here. She was fully loaded with an advanced chemical deployment system that would have him dead so fast he wouldn’t even know he was dead until he hit the ground twitching.

 He began tapping at the keyboard, trying to gain access to the computer. At the same time, he used his neural interface to contact the captain.

 ~all right, captain,~ he said, ~i’m in the computer, and it’s not good. we’ve been purposely fucked, and that’s the only way to describe it. someone has injected mandy with a high powered set of kill-commands, and there’s nothing i can do about it. maybe if we had found the problem before we spaced, and maybe if i had a whole team of crackers at my disposal, we could paste something together and get our butts home, but as it is… there’s nothing i can do. i’m sorry.~

 He was a bit abrupt, but though Captain Patrick VanChesna may have been young, he wasn’t exactly a child and he knew how real people talked. Besides, Euan figured they were all about to die now anyway, so he didn’t feel a need to follow the usual stiff-necked formalities.

 There was silence on the other end for a long moment, then, ~should i give the order to evacuate the ship?~

 McBride licked his lips. ~i don’t even think you can,~ he said. ~it looks like mandy’s locked down all of the escape pods. she’s going down, and she wants to take us with her.~

 ~what can we do?~ the Captain asked.

 ~well…~ McBride drew in a deep breath and rubbed his burning eyes. ~we’re pretty close to a planet… i think we should ride her down. it’s about all we have a hope of doing. by my calculations we’ve only got about ten hours before this ship comes apart at the seams and everyone dies. the problems with mandy are just going to keep getting worse until she destroys herself, and there’s no way to take manual control. all of the overrides have been taken offline. we’re stuck aboard her, and she’s falling apart fast.~

 ~are you absolutely certain that there is no other course of action available?~

 McBride shook his head, even though there was no one to see. ~there’s nothing else we can do. we either take ‘er down, or we all die.~

 There was a long moment of silence. ~very well. sound the planetary approach alarm, then get your ass down to engineering. this is a C42 class ship, definitely not made for landing on a planet. you’re going to have to hold this bitch together all the way down.~

 ~i figured as much,~ Euan said with a rude bark of laughter. ~i’ve got my shoestrings ready, and i’m willing to give it a try.~

 ~very well,~ the Captain said. ~good luck, mcbride. we’re counting on you.~

 The connection broke and Euan climbed to his feet. He felt suddenly tired, some secret part of him saying that this was all fruitless, that it would be so easy to just lay down and let things happen like they were going to. The Syren was fucked and that was that.

 He wanted to just lie down and die, but he knew that he couldn’t. He had received orders from his captain and he had a duty to perform. All the hard work might come to nothing, but he was a man and he took his responsibilities standing up.

 Euan McBride drew in a deep breath and struck the Emergency Alarm button and left the Computer Room running.

 No matter what happened, he at least knew that the others had received warning of what was going to come. The Emergency Alarm was on a separate circuit from everything else in the system, completely outside of the Amanda’s control, so she couldn’t muffle the sound. The entire ship reverberated with the alarm, giving those that cared about living the chance to climb into suits and brace themselves for possible death by impact with a large, hard surface.

 A sudden devil-may-care smile curled his lips. This was his greatest adventure yet, and if he lived through it, he would have one beer-swilling story to tell.

TBC…

They’re badly in need of editing and I need some smart sci-fi brain to go over them because I’m not sure what’s possible or not and my way of writing has changed since I started the series. Still, they’ve always been my favorites

Title: Sapphire
genre: sci-fi
series: Facet of Empire

Summary: Sapphire is brought to the prison planet Hades to find the notorious muderer William Hedell.

Excerpt of “Sapphire”

It was a little frightening, heading into the unknown by himself, but as long as he put one foot in front of the other he would be able to carry on and do what had to be done.

Sapphire tapped into all of the manic energy he had ever possessed, let it thrum through his mind and body until even the most insensitive person could sense it around him. They wouldn’t be able to explain what it was about him that frightened them so, but it was right there under the surface of his skin, poisoning the air around him.

Where he was going, he knew that the only weapon he was openly allowed to show was the insanity he would feign. So he would have to make sure to create enough of an impression that he wouldn’t be mobbed by the prisoners the minute the guards left him.

He didn’t really want to hurt anyone, but his father had given him a task to perform… and he would complete it to the best of his abilities.

The floor of the transport vibrated under his feet as it carried them out of the frozen night, crossing the invisible barrier of temperature extremes. Freezing cold to sweltering heat, finally to end up in the murderous nightmare that was Hades. A place where nothing human could ever hope to survive outside of the rigorously controlled prison compound.

Sapphire felt sweat forming between his shoulder-blades, making his single-suit uncomfortably sticky. Nervousness churned in his belly and he knew more than anything that he didn’t want to step into the mouth of Hades.

He wanted to yell out that he didn’t belong here. He wanted to break cover and reveal who he was and let them hustle him back to his ship so he could go home where he belonged, where everything was safe and controlled and the love of his father was a dull warmth at the heart of his world, beating with perfect time at the back of his mind.

But he refused to allow himself the weakness of admitting defeat. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to be deterred by the simple fact that he was afraid to be alone.

Sapphire drew in a slow, controlled breath, letting it fill up his lungs. He held it there for as long as he could, then let it out in a steady flow.

He would do his duty and he wouldn’t allow any kind of petty fear stand in his way.

He channeled all of the darkest minds he’d ever dealt with and stood with a mad smile twitching on his lips. His body trembled slightly with barely controlled energy; it created an air of danger.

The shuttle landed with a resounding thump–it seemed that no extra expense had been added to the transports design. It was a wonder their journey had been as smooth as it had been at all.

He allowed the guards to close their hands around his upper arms and tug him toward the hatch.

=END EXCERPT=

The only thing I wish is that I hadn’t been woken up and I’d been able to see the whole thing. That would have made me so happy.

It shouldn’t be too long before I let you all meet Santiago and Edgar, man adventurers, or something.