God and Mind - Volume II - Revolution
By Dark

Presented by: Xenogears: God and Mind

Chapter 13
The Tournament

     The three men, in their patched and faded blue tunics, were indistinguishable in the crowd that thronged the dusty road half a mile from the impressive sandstone walls of Bledavik.  All three of them were strong looking: one in his late 20’s and two who looked about 18.  All three had long black hair, which two of them wore in pony tails and the other...  one of the younger men, wore long and loose in a flowing mass.  They looked like strongly bred Aveh workmen, coming to the capital on a commission for an aristocrat; an illusion which was enhanced by the heavy packs and tools they were all carrying.
     “Is this necessary?” Fei growled.  The leather strap that held the pick to his back was digging into his neck, and the tightly rolled pack of clothes was making his arm ache in the hot sun.
     “Quite necessary, no one would ever think we’re anything but common laborers.” Citan glanced critically from their own costumes to those of true laborers.  “Stop a minute.”
     Obediently, Bart and Fei stopped their trudging and followed Citan off the road, into the scrubby trees and sandy desert dunes that bordered it.  The doctor led them past a thicket to a heap of powdery sand, out of sight of the multitude.
     “What’s the problem...” Bart began.
     “Our disguise is...” Before he could finish, Citan had seized him in a judo throw and hurled him to the sand.  A moment later, Fei found himself flying through the air to land beside the prince, who was enthusiastically spitting out bits of desert.
     “Wha...  wha...  what...  for?”
     “Not dusty enough,” replied Citan, rolling forward into the sand so that a film of fine brown dust covered his clothes.
     “You could have just told us,” Bart protested, but his only reply was a mischievous grin.  Citan could be extremely petty at times.  
     They rejoined the thronging crowd suitably dusty, but Citan needn’t have bothered.  Numerous cars, Land Crabs, and other forms of transport whizzed past them, kicking up clouds of dust.  They were shouldered and jostled, as the road narrowed to a gap in the wall.  Fei felt hot and alone; only the presence of Bart and the doctor kept him from slinking off the crowded road, and into golden obscurity in the desert.  The air was heavy with the stench of petrol and sweat, but at long last the huge thickness of the sandy wall was past and he could breathe as the crowd dispersed.
     “Now we get to the citadel,” muttered Bart, his newly dyed dusty hair falling over his eyes in sweaty disorder.
     “Is it always this crowded?” Fei wondered, picking at the hot pavement with the toe of one scuffed boot.
     “No.” Citan frowned, scanning the crowd that thronged the narrow shaded streets.  “There must be something going on...”
     “I’ll find out,” Bart offered, and he strode off into the crowd.
     Fei cringed inside; he had never been a spy before, and wasn’t sure he liked it.  It seemed that everyone was looking at him.  Suppose Bart made a slip and they got arrested.  But the long, rangy pirate was striding in a straight line, towards a woman cloaked in a simple dress of blue and white, plain and unfrilled.  Fei leaned forward, and could hear the young prince’s words through the hum of the crowd.
     “Excuse me Sister, my friends and I are new in Bledavik and we’d like to know what’s going on.”
     “It is the Bledavik festival,” she answered, her plain face disinterested.  But she looked more closely at Bart, and her eyes seemed to light up.  That’s it, Fei thought.  They’d been recognized, and the hunt was up.  But the woman only continued to study Bart’s face with bright eyes and a look of wonder.  “The festival begins tomorrow in the castle courtyard.  Even the Prime Minister himself will be there; he always is.  He instituted the festival just after he took over from the king.  The year Prince Bartholomew died.” Her eyes winked significantly as she said Bart’s name, but she gave no other sign.  Bart too, looked hardly troubled by her knowing look; his lean tanned face under its blackened pony tail seemed more pleasantly surprised than shocked.
     “If you would be so kind, Holy Sister.  I was wondering if there was a chapel nearby.  My friends and I would like to continue our devotion.” The woman Fei now recognized as a nun looked across at Fei and Citan with a knowing smile.
     “If you would all follow me, I will lead you to a place of sanctuary.” Without another word the woman turned, but Fei felt unsure: how could they trust this woman who they’d never seen before?
     “Erm...  excuse me, Sister, but, where...  who?” Surreptitious questions weren’t one of Fei’s talents.  Bart looked back at Fei and frowned furiously.
     “Come on, Fei.  We’ll need God’s help in our endeavors.” Obediently Fei shut up, and blindly followed Bart and the nun, with Citan hovering in the crowd behind him.
     The nun and Bart led the way through the hot, narrow and crowded streets; dim, sandy buildings rearing up on either side like the walls of canyons.  Before dim shops, traders spread their wares in glittering profusions.  Some desert dwellers watered horses at a well.  Cars and Land Crabs fought for dusty space with milling people of all classes and many races.  Bledavik, the capital of Aveh, was a whole new world to the village-raised Fei.  Here and there in the golden brown dusty light were signs of the upcoming festivities.  Venders were selling bunting or flowers.  Large advertisements were everywhere.  

“Grandmaster Marvel, Aveh's best Fortune teller.  Discover the future only at the festival”
“Dragon-jaws, expert fire-eater and sword swallower, permorming in the castle courtyard at 3pm.”
“Grand fighting Tournament, any style! No firearms.  All combatants welcome.  Grand cash prizes!”

     On one street corner, Fei saw a baker arguing with three people in the costume of laborers, trying to hire help for the next day’s big sales.
     After a half hour’s walk through this strange, sandy city, the nun turned into a dusty courtyard and the noise and crowds were instantly shut out behind large wooden gates.  In the courtyard was set a beautifully symmetrical flowerbed, with a fountain flowing invitingly in the center.  A few stone benches ringed the courtyard.  As they entered, their guide gestured for them to sit.  Fei was glad to obey, and taking off his pack and homespun blue jacket he leaned gratefully against one wall.
     Fei looked about in interest.  The house was not large, but it was low and pleasant, built of the same sandy stone as the rest of the city.  Set to one side was a small chapel, with a slight spire that reached over the high walls that surrounded the house.
     “Well sister, how’d ya do it?” asked Bart a little angrily, his bad grammar seeming to give his words a common rustic threat.  The nun seemed perplexed.  She sat down demurely on one of the benches and folded her hands on her lap.
     “Recognize you? Your Highness, your cousin has had a picture of you on her dressing table for the last 7 years, and even if she hadn’t, I’ve seen you enough to recognize you.” Bart’s shoulders slumped.
     “Well, that’s it, then.  When do Shakhan’s guards arrive?” He slammed a hand down on the stone bench exasperatedly.  “If you recognized me, what about Shakahn’s spies!?” he half shouted.  The calm nun cocked an eyebrow.
     “Shakahn hasn’t seen you for twelve years.  He might know you in royal dress and without the dye but in this...” She plucked at the dusty jacket.
     “I assume that you know this lady and her order,” said Citan.
     “Yeah! These are the order of nuns that are based in the Nisan Cathedral; they took care of me an’ Margie when we were kids.  But I didn’t know they had a chapter in Bledavik.”
     “Salvation is not limited to Nisan, Your Highness.” Bart scowled, which gave his face under its jet hair a definite villainous look.  “If you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness, were you planning to attempt to rescue your cousin?”
     “Yeah.” The nun leaned back and stretched out her feet.
     “Well, may I suggest tomorrow as a good time? Shakhan and all his guards will be at the festival.”
     “Say, that’s a thought...  Nab Margie while everyone’s gawping at Dragon-jaws the fire eater!”
     “Look, Bart...” Fei began nervously, casting an apologetic glance towards the demure nun.  “Is it wise to...”
     “Sure, She’s a member of the Nisan order, where Margie’s enrolled.  They’ll help us if they can.”
     “Just because we appear to be with a guerilla revolutionary movement, we do not have to assume that everyone is our enemy, Fei.  Most of the general populous hate Shakhan and would be glad to welcome Bartholomew as king.” Fei nodded.  Citan was right, he was being paranoid.
     “Well, the festival’s at the right time, and it’s a better plan than Operation Vegetable Sack, but what kind of diversion would distract those idiots Shakhan employs as guards? A strip show maybe?” The nun frowned disapprovingly at Bart’s impiety, but Citan nodded.
     “Hmm, a show of naked females may be impractical, but you’re right that we should try something that appeals to their base instincts.  Some sort of threatening display, perhaps.” Bart snapped his fingers, and his grimy face lit up.
     “The tournament! If we could get somebody to whoop the ass of everyone and then...” Bart’s voice trailed off and he flicked his fingers.  “Act tough.” He smiled impishly.  “ That’s my department.  I’ll dazzle ’em with my skill.” He stood and struck a dramatic pose, looking slightly comical in his patched clothes and dusty face.
     “Unfortunately not.  You’re the only one of us who knows the layout of the Aveh castle.  So the responsibility falls to either myself or Fei.”
     “Hold on a minute, doc.  We can’t expect all Shakahn’s guards to be at the tournament...  and even if they are, how do we know they’ll watch?”
     “Very true Fei, but I surmise that only a skeleton guard will be left to watch the princess...  nothing you couldn’t handle,” replied Citan, looking confidently at Bart.  The scruffy prince twirled an imaginary sward.
     “You’re right there, doc! But there won’t be many guards anyway, Shakhan’s got ’em all fighting battles at the border.  I doubt there’s more than a couple of companies in the whole city.” Citan nodded as if he had already suspected it.
     “Well, who’s performing?” Bart asked, staring first at the tall athletic doctor, then at the smaller, but no less lithe form of Fei.
     “Well...  you always won the village tournaments, Fei, and I haven’t fought for years.”
     “Doc! Me!?” Bart nodded, brushing dark strands away from his forehead.
     “Just pretend you’re in a Gear.”
     “But...  but!!!”
     “You’ll be fine!” Bart assured him.
     Fei felt despondent; fighting in a small village boxing match was one thing, but this was the capital of Aveh, and there would probably be hundreds watching.
     “I can’t!!!”
     “On the contrary, I believe this task is well within your capabilities, Fei.  I will remain in the crowd just in case.” And that was that.
     Fei stared moodily around the garden and kicked at the grass with his scuffed dusty boot.  The sun rolled in the sky like a giant spotlight, picking out the small dusty group of conspirators in the center of this vast city.  Fei flexed his biceps and reflected that it was for the good of his country, and anyway how could he...  he who had committed so much evil, refuse just because he had a little stage fright?
     “Alright, I’ll do it.”

*  *  *  *  *  

     The crowd around the arena was busy.  They pressed as close as possible, waiting for the event of the day to start.  They had marveled at the fire eaters, heard the false promises of the fortune tellers, had stuffed their innards with pies and hot dogs and all sorts of junk food, and now, they wanted to see a fight.  Though the heat was intense in the bare court that stood in front of the massive sandstone castle, nobody seemed to mind.  Bunting and flags hung limp in the windless desert air and the heat haze gave the whole crowd the look of a dream.  
     In a box high above the common folk, Shakahn sat with the Gebler officers by his side.  He sat in his red cloak, sweat shining on his bald pate.  In one corner, a troop of gayly dressed dancers kicked plumes of dust off the stones with their polished sandals, while a banjo player played a strangely atonal dance tune above a deep drone.
     Citan recognized the tune: the Yggdrasil march arranged as a dance tune, the ancient national anthem of Aveh, depicting the tree of life in all it’s glory.  The doctor (once more dressed in his favorite militaristic jacket and trouser) smiled at the cloaked figure beside him.  
     “Good old tune.”
     Bart didn’t reply, setting his face into a scowl of concentration.  He was covered head to foot in a long black cloak that hid all the details of his favorite costume.  He had insisted on wearing the red ornate jacket and blue satin shirt, and on bleaching his newly dyed hair back to its original blonde.
     “I can wear a coat or something.  I want Margie to recognize me.”
     “It is not the princess recognizing you that I’m worrying about,” Citan had replied nervously, as they had stood with the nun in the courtyard of the chapter house.
     “So what? The guards’ll know who beat ’em.  We’ll be away before I’m recognized!”
     Oh well, Citan thought, you couldn’t account for youthful exuberance.  And it would boost his reputation if the populous of Aveh knew that it had been the prince himself who rescued Shakhan’s captive.  They watched indifferently as several combatants carried out mediocre fights with various weapons, as the crowd roared around them.
     “Here he comes,” Citan hissed in Bart’s ear as a figure in green trousers and white shirt appeared on the platform.  Fei had practically refused to change his costume, saying that he would fight better if he was comfortable.  The only concessions to weaponry were the steel-tipped engineer boots on his feet.  The light at the other end of the arena flicked on, the crowd murmured expectantly, and then Fei’s opponent stepped into the ring: a twisted green goblin figure with long arms and a huge knotted club.
     The bell rang and the mutant advanced on Fei; its arms loose, the club ready.  Fei stood perfectly still, his heavy boots planted firmly on the sun-warmed stone, waiting for an opportunity.  The thing swung its club in a wild, powerful arc, but Fei had been expecting it.  He seized the wrist and attempted to throw the beast, but the weight of the squat body was too much for him.  The beast wrenched its arm free and howled in triumph, its club whistling down.  Fei rolled aside and came to his feet, then jumped lightly forward, one foot coming up to slam into the creature’s chest.  It flew backwards as if hit by a gun, slamming into one of the low barriers.  Fei stood smiling at the crowd, waving one hand languidly.  People roared their appreciation, stomping and cheering.  Fei felt like a fool with everybody’s eyes on him, but he posed, flexing his biceps, waiting for his next opponent.
     The rules of the tournament were simple: combatants would fight (until one was unable to battle), then the winner would stay on until the next opponent was available.  The combatants would be judged on their endurance and a winner selected at the day’s end.  So Fei stood watchful as the doors opened to admit his next opponent.
     The boy who dashed into the ring was familiar: his disorganized red hair tangled in a mass, his disorganized clothing now powdered with dust.  He walked forward with his fists raised, thumbs tucked on top of his fingers the way Fei had taught him.
     “Dan!” Fei exclaimed.  He stared at his one time little brother with tears in his eyes.  Dan stared back, his own face twisting with hate.
     “Fei! I’ll kill you...  you bastard!!” With an inarticulate yell the furious boy flung himself at Fei.  Fei stood still as if stunned while Dan’s wild fist cracked into his chest.  It was not a powerful blow, only an angry one.  But as Fei stood still, unmoving, Citan turned to Bart, his face disappointed.
     “That’s torn it.  Dan lived in Lahan.  I don’t think Fei has the psychological equipment to deal with fighting him.” But Citan, for all his wisdom, was wrong.  Fei may not have had the indifference necessary to attack Dan, but he was well past his suicidal faze.  As Dan rushed him again, his right hand whirling in an uppercut Fei himself had taught him, Fei moved with eye-baffling speed.  As the furious boy swung his fist, Fei jumped aside and Dan stumbled, almost falling.  He struggled to regain his feet for an instant, but Fei did not attack; he only watched.  Then Dan was up and charging again like an angry bull.  Fei swung aside again, backing towards one of the wooden barriers that bordered the stone arena.
     Dan charged him again, murder in his black eyes; a murder that Fei deserved - but Fei had a job to do for new friends, a purpose that could not be shaken.  He swayed aside once more as the furious Dan leapt, but he was too light.  With a meaty thud, his red-haired skull connected with the barrier and he fell stunned to the stone.  Fei was breathing hard and fast.  His eyes misted; once more he had caused pain to a friend.  The sun streaming down on the arena only seemed to warm his skin; his inside was cold.  He stood looking at Dan’s unconscious body until two attendants dragged it away.  Light glinted off a golden jewel in a lady’s costume, and Fei was reminded of the flickering flames that destroyed his home.  Then suddenly a mocking voice, hard and arrogant, hit him hard.
     “Turn yourself around Cat, it’s no fair if I weigh in while ya not ready!”
     Fei spun around to see a tall, strikingly handsome man in a long red trench coat, jitterbugging his way onto the arena.
     “Name’s Big Joe -- daddio.  Let’s get this show on the road!” Without warning, the man lunged forward in an elegant slamming chop with one long hand.  Fei couldn’t have hoped to avoid the blow, but he was able to deflect it onto the hard muscle of one shoulder.  Still, it sent him sprawling.  The man swayed from foot to foot, and Fei was able to see that under the coat he wore a white jumpsuit and a pair of strange light shoes made of blue suede.  “Thank you very much.” He turned to the crowd, pulling out some sunglasses and flourishing them onto his face.
     “You’re beautiful!” A section of the audience started chanting “Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe!”
     Fei staggered to his feet and circled around the man who was still jitterbugging and blowing kisses.  He started to tense his body for a spring at the man’s back, when something small and hard hit him in the forehead.  He picked it up: it was a coin.  More started to hit him and he backed away.
     “Get out of here!” a couple of the crowd members screamed.  He edged away from the barriers as, to his astonishment, several items of feminine underwear flew through the air to land at Joe’s feet.  Who was this guy?
     Deciding that he had had enough of the crowd’s attention, Joe turned to deal with Fei, walking purposefully forward.  Fei waited, and sure enough, the big man tried the same elegant chop again.  This time however, Fei was ready.  He caught the wrist and twisted it, hurling Joe onto the stone.  Then he jabbed downwards at the man’s throat, his fingers finding the carotid artery and pressing it.  When he stepped away from the body, Joe lay still and unconscious.
     “Now’s your chance, go!” Citan hissed in Bart’s ear as the crowd went wild over Joe.  “If I had known that this man was so well beloved by the crowd, I wouldn’t have asked Fei to fight.  ...Go!”
     “What about you?” Citan shook his head.
     “I must watch over Fei.  If you need us, call.”
     Bart nodded, tapping the small radio in his pocket, then as Fei’s fist smashed into Joe’s throat, he was off; threading his way behind the crowd, up the huge age-worn steps and through the huge studded door of the Aveh castle.
     Fei looked over to where Bart and Citan had sat.  The doctor was there, thumbs entwined into his red sash, but Bart was gone.  Fei felt relieved; he had done it - his mission had succeeded.  He felt a sense of relief flood his face with joy, so he grinned as he faced the crowd.  But then the bell rang, signifying the next competitor to enter the ring.
     Fei turned and ducked into a fighting crouch, his brown eyes intent.  It didn’t matter now, he could lose with knowledge that he had succeeded; and as each opponent was harder than the one before, he would probably lose anyway, but he didn’t care, his job was done.
     The doors opened, and a man in flowing dark blue stepped into the arena.  The crowd’s roar hushed as they watched the new fighter expectantly.  He was a tall man, draped in a cloak the color of deep evening skies.  Over his face was an ornamental blue mask, and on each slender hand was a gauntlet of the same infinite color.  He looked steadily into Fei’s hot brown eyes, his own eye holes in the mask leading into a sad darkness.
     “I am called Wiseman.” His voice was deep and ponderous, like the voice of a statue.  Fei stood slowly, feeling that this opponent was somehow different.  He felt unworthy and filthy in his thick engineer boots.
     “Who...  who are you?” he asked almost tremulously.
     “A warrior,” the deep voice replied without changing tone.
     “So am I,” replied Fei flippantly, feeling a little put out by the seeming boast.
     “No, you are not.  You fight and you may win, but you are not a warrior.”
     Fei felt an emotion stir in his that he never expected to feel again, a dark yet sun bright pride in his own abilities.  For the moment, he forgot what those abilities had done to his home; he could only remember the man in red and the club wielder falling to the floor under his blows.  If he had to fight, he would do it well.
     “I’ll show you.”
     Fei’s heavy boots clanked on the sun-dusted stone as he charged at the figure, one hand whipping forward in a vicious karate punch at Wiseman’s midriff.  He was expecting a block, or an evasion; his overheated brain whirled with a million stratagems for further combat.  What he didn’t expect was for the masked man to sit and take it.  Fei’s fist hammered into him, but Wiseman didn’t even flinch.
     “Is that your best? You are strong and fast, true, but such qualities can be found in any brawling idiot.  You have no purpose, and that is why you will never defeat a truly dedicated opponent.”
     “I do have purpose!” Fei almost shouted, reduced to words now that blows had failed.  The infinitely dark, sad eyes behind the blue ornamental mask seemed to glint with a kind of calm, impassive amusement, like a wizard whose apprentice thinks he knows all magic after a day.
     “Why do you fight?” the calm voice asked conversationally.  Fei stood tall, remembering the photograph of the brown-haired girl in Bart’s room and how Bart’s blue eyes had misted when he looked at it.
     “My reasons are my own.”
     “You have none, and without reason you are just a wild animal destroying things and people at random, no match for a real reasoning being.”
     It was as if the enigmatic blue figure had looked into Fei’s mind and found the perfect insult.  The flames and fury of Lahan, temporarily banished, returned with redoubled force.
     Fei ran at the figure again, head down, fists pumping.  But it was as if he had struck fog.  Wiseman didn’t seem to move, but suddenly, Fei found that he was a half meter left of his target.  He leaped in a crushing kick, but once again, it was as if he had veered right, and he had to drop quickly to prevent himself from falling.
     The crowd loved this, staring at Wiseman and shouting, chanting his name.  But Wiseman seemed hardly distracted.  As the furious Fei launched attack after wild attack, missing by each time though his opponent didn’t seem to move, Wiseman looked distractedly into the sky, his dark eyes distant.  At last Fei stood still, staring levelly at the man he could not hurt.
     “Well,” he gasped, his expressive brown eyes gazing into the ornamental mask.  Wiseman seemed not to hear him.
     “It is that time, I must depart.  Find a purpose, young Fei.” There was a quick fizz in the air, a shimmer as of a passing current of undetectable gas, and when it cleared, the arena was empty.
     Fei looked around, wondering where the man had gone.  Then it struck him like a hammer blow; the man had known his name, even though the name he had used in the tournament listings had been false.
     “Wait...  you knew me? I need to talk to you!” But it was useless: the man was gone.  Fei peered around wildly as if trying to spot Wiseman, but it was no good.  The person in the ring was himself, and a tournament judge, gorgeously if a little effeminately gowned in scarlet silk.
     “This is highly irregular, but we must declare you the victor.  However, since you did not defeat your opponent, you must leave the competition now.”
     “Okay!” Fei replied helpfully, his head bemused with dust, sun and mysteries.  “Who was that man?” The judge shook his head.
     “We have no idea.  We ask no questions of our combatants, now if you would kindly leave the ring.” Obediently, Fei stepped out of the arena.  Fei walked through the milling crowd to where Citan sat, conspicuous in his almost militaristic splendor.
     “Doc! It worked then?”
     “Indeed, the first part was successful.  But our young impetuous prince has a nasty habit of underestimating the fighting skills of others.  If I were you, I would go and assist him.  I will remain here and create another diversion, if necessary.”
     “Okay doc, it’s my purpose.” Citan looked up, his angular eyes surprised behind the specials he had remembered to put on that morning.  “...  Never mind doc, I’ll go.” Fei turned before Citan could question him further; much as he liked his old teacher, grasping quick explanations was not one of his strong points.  He waited until the guards were looking away, and then slipped into the castle’s huge oaken door, that easy! But the tournament had been worthwhile.  His feet clanged on the stone floor of the mighty citadel, as he walked on his way to the purpose that had brought him to Bledavik.  

Chapter 14
Rescue Margie

     Commander Kahran Ramsus was well and truly pissed off with Aveh, land dwellers in general, and Shakhan and his goons most of all.  He leaned back in his seat and fervently wished the "Festivities" would end and he could get a shower.  The stiff white cloth of his dress uniform clung stickly to his well-muscled back, and the sun was blistering his pale skin into burns.  Beside him sat Miang, no less sweaty or uncomfortable, but seemingly ignorant of both facts, as she made the diplomatic conversation that was as much part of being an ambassador as coming from the country you represent.  
     "You admire their skill Lord Prince."   It was Shakahn's aid, general Vanderkaum who spoke, a bulky taciturn seeming man who filled his blue uniform with authority and maintained a sense of mystery behind the metal mask that covered his face from eyebrows to chin.  Ramsus stared at the man and tried to see the person behind the mask but it was useless.  The skin of hands neck and chin was tanned and healthy, the body beneath it's gaudy blue covering muscular but not young, even the eyes that peered out from two slits in the mask were steel gray.   "Some appear strong general."  
     "Indeed, and these are only ordinary civilians, the Aveh troops are far superior.  A formidable fighting force."  
     "Not the equal to Gebler."   Ramsus replied bluntly, letting the overheating climate and his own overheating temper get the better of him.  Like a lily coated with ice, Miang looked warningly to Ramsus, trying to freeze his fury with a reminder of their mission.  But she should have warned General Vanderkaum and not the bronze haired commander.
     "My estimation of Gebler's abilities went down when they were defeated by a pirate - No offence meant Commander."  
     Ramsus stared into the general's level eyes, his own tawny animal gaze beginning to blaze like a beast at bay.  "That pirate eluded your forces for eight years General, and I can tell you why, someone in that group had Jugend training and knew what he was doing."  
     The general's voice, already hollow from behind the steel mask became even hollower with scorn.  "So you make excesses.  I thought your Jugend only accepted applicants from the eugenics program."  
     "No! Jugend does take some non-eugenically selected applicants, even lambs if they're good enough.  Two of my own graduation class were land dwellers, there have even been questions asked about Lieutenant Vanhuten's blood."  
     "And yourself commander, you with your mechanical gadgets and pretty weapons, are you eugenically perfect?"
     Ramsus had had enough, he couldn't imagine why Shakhan's aide was needling him, perhaps Vanderkaum, exponent of purely physical warfare wanted a test of strength, well Ramsus would give him one.  The dress uniform of a first Element includes a gilded sward, a slim elegant rapier with no real weight or balance but plenty of gold and polished metal.  Ramsus' hand hardly seemed to flicker before the rapier's point was at the irritating general's throat.  Dueling for honor was permitted in Aveh, and Ramsus fully intended to make use of that outmoded custom.
     "Put your sword away Kahr."   Miang ordered peremptorily, shooting a look of disdain at the pair of them.
     Obediently, Ramsus sheathed his sword.  Vanderkaum turned away, feeling no doubt that he had won some sort of victory but Ramsus ignored him.  He sat down again beside Miang, forgoing masculinity for her superior authority.
     "The truth drug is prepaired, I suggest we administer it immediately."  
     Shakhan, swigging down something pink and bubbly out of a glass overheard her.  His swollen eyes showed that he had perhaps drank too much of the concoction than was good for him.  "Go find out" He hiccupped.  "Then we'll rule the world."   He patted Miang's cold white hand infuriatingly.
     She gave him an irritated look then turned her blue gaze back to Ramsus.  
     Suddenly her beauty struck him like a wave, the statuesque quality of her marble skin the flowing ease with which she moved, the sparkling blue magic of her hair.  "Okay.  We probably ought to do it as soon as possible, this kind of event is the perfect opportunity for a rescue attempt."  
     Miang nodded mutely and lead the way off the box.  With one last contemptuous glance back at the Aveh aristocracy Ramsus followed her.  What fools they were, drunken lay abouts no strength or stamina.  There was only one true aristocracy and that was the aristocracy of talent and superior genes, the aristocracy of Solaris.  And when he had the twin to the gilded half circle of bronze that hung about his neck, and the treasure it lead to, that aristocracy would be one step closer to achieving it's goal.

*  *  *  *  *  

     Bart remembered the layout of the castle well, true it was 12 years since he had been there since he was about five or six.  But he closed his mind, not wanting to open it to the flood of painful memories that would bring.  Once again he was rescuing Margie, but this time he would need no help, this time he would do more than cower in a corner and take blows.   This time he would fight back and he would win.  
     His feet echoed on the stairs as he ran with smooth athletic ease.  The gold on his jacket gleamed, and his sun bright hair flowed out behind him along with the black cloak.  He looked terrifying and he knew it.  But it wasn't just looks, he rested one hand on the handle protruding from the iron holster at his belt, a wooden handle attached to six feet of chain and a heavy iron ball.  It was funny that his favorite weapon was a whip, a tool of punishment.  Perhaps that was what it was all about, his symbolic chastisement of those who had hurt him and his family.  
     That Citan guy would say something about that, a real brain-box if a little absent minded.  
     And then all thoughts stopped as his headlong dash along the well-remembered corridor brought him into the presence of two Aveh guards in full uniform with holsters pistols and swords at their hips.  But Bart had an advantage, not only were they lounging languidly on one of the heavy padded benches that littered the walls, they were also sitting with their backs to a plate glass window, directly opposite the foot of the stairs that lead to the princess's tower.  A whip is not a quick drawing weapon, it was foolish of Bart perhaps not to draw it earlier, but as it happened he didn't need it.
     With slackening speed he left the ground in a gazelle like leap, all the momentum of his rush behind him.  With a movement as smooth as a gymnast he brought both feet forward in a double slamming kick of incredible power.
     Both guards gaped cigarettes still in their mouths, then Bart's kick landed.  It caught one guard on the upper chest, and he catapulted backwards, crashing through the window to summersault to the ground below.  But dropped lightly onto the bench and looked down scornfully at the other guard.  "Do you know who I am private?"
     The man gaped, his blocky face paling, looking slightly comical with the cigarette drooping and dropping ash at his lips.  "The! --- Prince!"
     Bart nodded sagely.  "Glad they gave you some training."  
     He jumped off the bench, shaking out his whip as he did so, continuing to bring out handfuls of chain even as he landed.  "Now! I formally charge you with dereliction of duty, treason an---" Bart paused, partly for effect partly to think up something else.  The heavy chain connected with the unfortunate guard's skull with a sound like a hammer hitting wood.  
     The soldier's hand fell from the hilt of his small sword, and there was an almost comical expression of surprise on his face as he joined his comrade under the window.  Bart coiled the whip loosely over one arm, still gripping the polished wood haft in one hand.  He held the steel ball in his other hand, couched for throwing like a cricket bowler.  
     A whip, he reflected could be devastating when it got going --- just like a Fatima.  
     He slowed as he walked up the spiral staircase, trying to keep his steps silent on the wooden treads.  This was a shadowy staircase, with few windows to let in the light, and any assailant waiting on the stairs would have a clear advantage.  He looked nervously over the carved wooden balustrade to the drop below, if he was knocked off he'd be dead.  And what about someone coming up from behind? He shrugged out of the long dark cloak that had concealed him and hung it with incongruous neatness over the balustrade.  It didn't matter that he was leaving a sign for pursuers; they would know where he was going.  The stairs seemed to stretch on endlessly, step upon step dark shadow and blinding sunlight bearing across the rich wood and plaster that covered the interior.  
     Margie was being kept in a fine prison but a prison non-the less, and if she didn't escape Bart had no elusions of what would happen to her.  So he marched through the dark and shadow, all affected proudness, a soldier with a purpose and his purpose crucial.  Like a fox emerging from it's earth Bart poked his ruggedly handsome face over the top of the stairs.  A gun crashed and plaster dust puffed next to his ear, like a turtle he withdrew into the safety of the stair case.  There was at least one guard up there, and this one was ready.  
     What he needed was a diversion.  
     Carefully, Bart released the iron ball from his left hand and reached under his jacket to the small razer bladed knife he always kept there, just in case he was caught.  With difficulty he held the knife with two fingers and raised a button with another finger, he slid the blade along, and the button came away clinking onto the step in front of him.  Another, he reached up and hacked off another big shiny button from his military jacket.  But this one slipped through his hand, bouncing off the back, frantically he tried to catch it and the edge of the knife nicked into his palm.  Gritting his teeth the prince laid the button beside its fellow on the stairs, drops of blood oozing onto them from his cut hand.  Wincing he replaced the bloodied knife in it's sheath and picked up the buttons and weighed them.  Then with a sweep of his arm he threw them flashing like pirate's golden treasure, up and beyond the stair head.  
     He knew what would happen, the guards would turn, watch the coins of light wink in the sun and then turn back to their duty.  But Prince Bartholomew only needed an instant.  Repositioning the whip in his hand, he dashed up the stairs leapt over the last step and dived along the floor in a rugby tackle.  
     A gun-crashed above his head and he felt the wind of the bullet passing across his body, his chin scraped along the floor and he felt scratches open on his face but that was no matter.  Then he crashed into the knees of the guard who had shot at him, tumbling the man to the floor, hearing his head crack against the wall.  Bart rolled and came to his feet, to face the other two guardsmen who were already raising their weapons.  
     The burnished steel of Bart's whip flashed as it snaked through the air towards the two men, sun glinting off the smooth heavy ball as it had glinted off the buttons.  The chain dragged across one man's face in bloody furrows, then the ball smacked into his jaw with an audible crack, he fell to the floor moaning and clutching his wounded face.  
     The second was more fortunate, the length of chain coiled about his sward arm dragging him off balance.  But he was still able to get off one shot.  Bart ignored the gun, and charged in, pulling on the chain to unbalance his opponent even more.  One piratical fist slammed upwards into the man's throat and he fell sprawling against the wall, slowly sliding down to the polished wood floor, senseless.  But Bart didn't wait to see the man fall.  He walked smoothly across the circular landing, scooping up his fallen buttons as he went.  There were two large windows, and three doors and the stairs, all identical slabs of heavy handsome wood stained dark with varnish, all bearing impressive looking keyholes and thick steel bolts.  Across from the stairs were the steel doors of an elevator, a single red button inlayed into the plasterwork beside it.  But Bart ignored this and moved to one of the wooden doors, which was unbolted; though Margie was sure to be locked in, he wanted to check there were no more guards around.  Cautiously he turned the handle, the whip coiled around his other arm ready for action.  But the slab of wood swung heavily open on a small derelict room; once a servant's quarters maybe, because there was a rusty grate in the fireplace.  But all the furniture had been removed leaving only boards and dust.  The second door he tried was also unlocked, and it proved to be a store with guns and ammunition and even some swords.  Quickly he closed the door and crossed the landing to the other huge wooden slab, this one with the steel bolts shot home at top and bottom.  
     The man with the broken jaw was moaning softly, as he passed Bart leaned down and wrapped the guard smartly on the skull with the ball of his whip held in one hand.  The man fell senseless to the floor; well, no point leaving the man suffering.  
     With a smile of anticipation he shot both bolts back and tried the handle.  It was locked.  Bart let out one of the more colorful expressions and hammered on the door.  "Margie? It's me."  
     "Bart!"
     "Yeah, Bart.  Know where the keys are?"
     "Store closet."   Bart ran back to the store cupboard and looked amongst the weapons for the keys.  They were hanging from rings on one long shelf --- hundreds of them.  It would take time to try them all and time was something Bart didn't have.  He heard a sound of footsteps, steady measured and purposeful, tramping the way up the stairs with a surprising unhurried step.  
     In desperation he grabbed at one of the big shot guns hung on racks like so many vegetables.  It was a big automatic weapon with a nasty looking bell muzzle.  Daring to put down his whip for a second he loaded the weapon and dashed back to the door of Margie's prison.  "Stand away from the door."   Without waiting for her to obey he put the gun to the lock and fired.  
     There was the hollow crack of a bullet impacting in wood and the locking mechanism wrenched itself out of the door, splinters of metal and wood clinging to it like entrails.  
     Then the door swung slowly inwards to a gentle push from Bart and the princess stepped out of her prison.  She was just the way he remembered, medium height with a pert prettiness and quizzical blue eyes.  Her hair was that same rich glossy brown that he remembered so well, and when she smiled at him it held the same cynical mischief.  She walked out quite calmly, her plain red dress rustling.  The shawl which draped her hair and upper body moving with her, seeming to accentuate the contours of her body rather than hide them for all it's seeming modesty.  To Bart's surprise in her arms she clutched a fluffy pink stuffed toy, a mouse or perhaps a teddy bear.  "You look a mess."   She said a little haughtily, her eyes dancing with that childishly dry humor he remembered.  As always he responded in kind, his blocky pirates face under it's disheveled golden locks breaking into a smile.  
     "Sor-ry! How about I go make my self presentable, I'm sure Shakhan would lend me a jacket.  What do you think?"
     "I don't think so."   She said flatly, then with a peculiar half mocking tenderness she reached up and wiped some of the blood and dust from his face.  "I knew you'd come."  
     "Huh?" Bart responded inadequately, a little fazed by the open gratitude and vulnerability sparkling sapphire in his cousin's usually cynical eyes.  As if trying for some gesture of tenderness, he flung the gun he had used to break the lock past Margie into the room from which she had escaped.  
     "Who let rats in here?" Said a deep golden voice with the merest trace of an accent Bart whirled, instantly alert, his blue eye already assessing the two who had just appeared from the stair head for weaknesses.  
     The one who had spoken was a man, tall tanned, with bronze hair falling over the color of his incandescently white uniform.  The eyes that ran expertly over the prince were a penetrating animal yellow, tawny as an owl and full of predatory rage.  
     Behind him was a woman, only just medium height, slim an almost insignificant.  Her uniform was a dazzling arctic blue, which matched the same unearthly color in eyes and hair.  Her skin by contrast was pale giving a look of glacial calm that was mirrored in her stance.  These, Bart thought, were professionals.  
     "Prince Fatima?" The woman said analytically.  
     "Yeah, that's me."   Bart's voice was defensive.  
     The icy woman made a rigid mocking little bow, her hair gleaming in the sun from the window.  "Let us introduce ourselves, I am Miang, and this is Commander Kahran Ramsus of Gebler."   She gestured with the hypodermic syringe she carried.  "We are going to administer this truth drug to your cousin to find the location of the Fatima Jasper."  
     "You're not doing anything to Margie."   Bart signed for the girl to stand beside him and readied his whip.  
     Ramsus squared off a few paces ahead of him, drawing his slim gilded sword as if they were in the tournament arena.  
     "This is extremely galleant of you, but you cannot win.  Kahr is a graduate of Jugend, an elite fighter."   Bart felt somehow quelled by the woman's calm confidence, he felt uncouth and stupid, but he would go down fighting.  
     "Yeah --- Well Jugend can kiss my ass!" The commander pursed his lips as if irritated by Bart's impropriety, then he charged, his sword coming forward in a vicious stab at Bart's belly.  
     Bart stepped aside and before Ramsus could recover flicked his whip so the heavy coils wound around the Solarian's sword arm.  Ramsus was pulled off balance and the sword went spinning as he whipped his hand free.  The chains tore at his skin and a bloody scrape opened on the back of his hand.  Bart whirled the whip again, trying to get the heavy links to slam against the commander's skull, but Ramsus dropped, rolled and came to his feet all in one flowing movement, scooping up his sword on the way.  He was inside Bart's guard now, and the point of the gilded blade was spearing towards Bart's midriff.  Frantically the prince twisted aside and felt the point tear first the cloth, then the skin of his upper arm.  But it was only a graze, and as Ramsus stepped back preparatory for another thrust, Bart's foot sithed out in a vicious kick at his kneecap.  But Jugend training involves heightened reflexes, Ramsus dropped smoothly to his knees and, abandoning the sword grasped Bart's foot in two strong hands, the next thing he knew, Bart was lying on the floor behind the commander, his twisted leg on fire, his shoulder aching where it had struck the floor.  
     Dropping the teddy bear Margie ran to her cousin, her eyes filling with alarm.  Temporarily ignoring the lowering commander she bent beside him.  Staring straight into his dazed eye she began to sing first softly then louder rising quickly to a peaceful crescendo.  A soft green light suffused her body and transmitted itself to Bart, spreading out as it touched him into a shower of emerald sparks.  
     Bart stood astonished to find himself fully restored, even his grazed face healed.  With renewed energy he swung his whip, slicing through the air with expert strength.  Ramsus raised the sword he had retrieved during the healing and parried the blow.  The whip wrapped itself around the slim blade and with a mighty heave the commander wrenched it from Bart's grasp.  Then he lunged forward, hands reaching.  Bart ducked the clutching fingers and rabbit punched the man in his flat muscular stomach.  Most men would have been staggered by that blow but the commander kept on coming.  Bart fainted left then uppercutted the commander, but one tanned arm blocked the slamming edge of his hand with jarring impact, and then the commander's white clad leg slammed upwards, crashing into Bart's groin with agonizing force.  The pain was excruciating, Bart jackknifed backwards, hand unconsciously going downwards breath rasping out of his lungs in a long hiss.  He was dimly aware that the blue haired woman had seized Margie in a judo hold, he was dimly aware that the commander had picked up his sword and was advancing on Bart, murder in his animal eyes.  
     But then something came through his pain, a figure in khaki trousers and a dusty white shirt, a figure with long dark hair and a pair of engineer boots.  "F -- F ---Fei!!!!" He wheezed in astonishment and relief.  
     Battle fury filled Fei, his friend, his only friend Bart was threatened, the man standing over his agonized body held a naked sword, Fei must defend his friend whatever the cost.  And this man was a killer, his uniform plain with blood however white it was.  
     Not noticing Margie or Miang, Fei launched himself at Ramsus like a missile.  Before he hit Ramsus stared in astonishment.  A steel tipped boot struck him in the forehead opening a bloody gash, another tapped on the top of his skull leaving him dazed.  
     But even as he spiraled to the wooden floor a memory triggered itself in Ramsus' brain, a memory of other steel tipped boots slamming into his head, but that had been in a night of starry glory, and evil flames and insane laughter.  Then he was lying on the wood floor and the attacker the prince had called Fei was pirouetting away to land beside Bart.
     With a supreme effort Ramsus got to his feet, blood matting with his bronze hair to make it the same color as lieutenant van huten's.  He shook his head to clear it then bent and picked up his sword.  Fei was instantly alert as Ramsus stood and began stalking towards him.  He circled, trying to get the commander away from Bart.  Ramsus was in pain that was plain from the tawny animal eyes, but behind the pain was an animal determination not to give up.  
     Fei didn't let Ramsus attack him, with lightning speed he dashed in aiming a slashing sideways chop at Ramsus' jaw.  The commander didn't have the time or physical control to block, so he countered with a slamming smash into Fei's face.  Both blows landed at the same time, and both fighters fell backwards.  Then they were up and circling again.  Somehow Fei sensed that this commander was subtly different from any opponent he had fought before.  Most people would give up after his devastating three kicks but Ramsus just kept coming.  The commander launched his own kick, a swipe at Fei's stomach, but as Fei blocked, Ramsus' rapier stabbed forward towards his chest, the kick had been a faint.  With a flailing boot Fei knocked the sword away but was left unbalance, and was only just able to evade Ramsus' brutal neck chop.  He backed away, only wanting to get close on his own terms.  
     But then he felt the wall pressing into his back, a wooden picture rail jabbing at his shoulder blade as the roots had dug in that first night after the destruction of Lahan and he knew he was trapped.  Even crippled, Ramsus' combat skills were clearly superior to his own and with the added advantage of the sword he would have no chance.  
     But to his surprise Ramsus didn't immediately come to finish him off.  He walked past Fei; carefully keeping out of reach.  With a quick jump he darted behind a huge wooden door.  For a second Fei thought he was running, that was until he came out holding a gun.  With a smile he leveled it at Fei.  In an oddly pleasant tone he said: "It's over.  You loose."    Bart scrambled to his feet, retrieving his whip and frantically preparing to attack but the wounded officer moved the gun between Fei and Bart, stepping back a few paces.  "Drop the whip."   He commanded in his rich slightly accented voice.  The length of chain clattered to the floor.  "Raise your hands to shoulder height" Obediently they took on the position of basket ball players about to pass an invisible ball.  "Now," Ramsus voice was almost pleasant.  "If one of you would tell me the location of the other half of the Fatima Jaspar?" There was dead silence.  Fei felt the air heavy and hot, and his arms thrust out and vulnerable as if some great monster; like the ranker dragon would appear and bite them of.  
     "If you remain silent the commander will shoot both of you and then we will administer the truth drug to the Princess.  Its effects are irresistible."   Miang spoke calmly from where she still held the limp figure of Margie in a tight unbreakable hold.  
     Margie herself seemed distant, her eyes fixed appealingly on her cousin as if expecting a miracle.  
     "If either of you move I will shoot you both."   Ramsus said quite calmly, wiping blood from his eyes with the sleeve of the hand that wasn't holding the gun.  "I will count to three and then fire."   The officer's voice was a hard and immutable as a rock in winter.  As if the ice on the rock Miang added.  "Your deaths will serve no purpose."   "One ---" The silence stretched tought as a drum skin, Fei found it hard to breath as if his body were already shutting down.  This was the end, the just retribution for his massacre in Lahan, this was divine punishment administered by this arrogant operative of death.  "Two ---" Fury built up in Fei, a righteous burning anger.  He stared into Margie's eyes, locked with Bart's in a last mental embrace of love, was it right that they should die? Power flowed through him, the way it had in the Stalactite cave, though this time there was no Weltall to channel it, only his own body.  "Thr---" But even as Ramsus spoke he must have seen what was coming for just as the incandescent bolt of blue white ether energy left Fei's outstretched hands, the Gebler officer dived to the floor and curled himself into a fetal ball, rolling desperately out of the way.  So the bolt that should have killed merely knocked him aside, searing along his back, and spent its force in obliterating the opposite wall.  
     As if seeing that the situation was lost Miang released Margie and moved quickly to the side of the prone Ramsus.  
     "This way!" Bart yelled and snatching up his whip, ran for the elevator, slamming his hand onto the red lit call button.  The doors opened instantly and the three of them piled in, Margie still incongruously clutching the soft toy.  
     Miang knelt beside Ramsus, her expression distant.  They had lost the girl and probably the Jasper as well, but that didn't matter.  After all the Fatima treasure was only part of the main plan, the plan which those far above Ramsus in rank had set in motion long before.  With the professional detachment as a nurse, she began treating Ramsus' wounds as she had treated Lieutenant Van huten's, reenergizing his body.  It would of course take Ramsus longer to recover but that wouldn't matter either.  She accepted the defeat as she accepted everything else with the monumental calm borne of centuries.  

*  *  *  *  *  

     "Say, Margie, where'd you learn that Etheric cure?" Bart asked, his breath still rasping a little in the confined steel box of the elevator.  
     "Why do you think I joined the Nissan order?  They do more than just prey you know."   The brown haired princess said.  
     Bart Blinked.  "I thought you --- well, just like it I guess."   Margie rolled her beautiful blue eyes; so different from Miang's cold orbs, up towards the ceiling in a gesture of profoundest resignation.  "Well who's this?" She asked, looking with interest at Fei.  
     "Friend of mine, name of Fei Fong Wong.  Fei this is Margie, my cousin."  
     "Pleased to meet you."  
     "Mmmm."   Fei replied his eyes still scanning the metallic wall of the lift as if it might show him some kind of revelation.
     "Communicative chap."   Muttered Margie, but Fei hardly heard.  His mind was full of the fireball, arching away from his hands, reducing the powerful commander to a cringing ducking wreck.  Grahf had been right; he had power.  But what power was it, if he could cure like the Princess but --- it was worthless if he could only destroy.  
     "Hello!? Bart to Fei! Bart to Fei! Are you receiving me?!" Fei turned to face his friend sheepishly, aware that one of his companions had asked a question.  "I said where'd you learn that ether attack?"
     "I don't know."   Fei replied, his voice and face closing the subject.  
     "Nothing to worry about Fei, it's not unusual, most people have some kind of ether power."  
     Fei shook his head but would say no more.  Abrutly Margie looked at the panel showing the floors they were passing, the numbers were clicking by at the rate of one floor per five seconds.  "This lift's as slow as hell, anyone any idea where it's going?"
     Bart shook his head, his ponytail moving on his shoulder like an obedient golden snake.  "No.  Just seemed like a good idea at the time".  As if on queue, the doors flicked open to reveal a steel lined corridor up which a cold draught blew.  Hard bright lights were slung at intervals along the passage, running off into the distance where the steel box turned a corner.  "They really sooped up the old dungeons."   Bart's voice was hushed as they all exited the elevator and began to walk along the passage.  
     There was nothing sinister about the passageway, it was functional steel and functional light, but uneasiness almost a foreboding came over Fei.  This corridor felt like the proposes of some huge steel fly down which he was walking.  The slight clangs which their cautious footsteps made on the steel floor sounded like the mechanical heartbeat of the machine of destiny, cold and implacable as the knell of a clock.  When they turned the corner, they found themselves in a similar steel corridor, but off to one side the corridor opened out into a carpeted space strewn with function but comfortably padded chairs and small tables.  The impression of an office block was heightened by the plain wooden doors standing at intervals along the corridor.  
     "This looks tough, some one could come out of one of those and attack us.  Fei, you go ahead, Margie in the middle I'll make sure no one sneaks up on us."   Like a sergeant ordering scouts, Bart moved behind Margie so they crept along alertly in an absurd parody of a Conga line.  When they had passed all those interminable death-trap doors Fei saw that the corridor turned another sharp corner, with a pair of massive double doors standing open on the walls.  Passing through them Fei gasped.  He found himself in a Gear bay not dissimilar to that in Bart's hideout.  Except here, all the standing gears; of which there were a huge number, emblazoned with a huge red G.  Off to one end he saw a mighty gray gunship with torpedo tubes and other weapons protruding from it like horns.  On it's side two was the massive red G, etched in the functional gray like a bloodstain on a sword blade.  
     "This must be Gebler's base."   Bart breathed looking around.  "Where did they get all this stuff? Some of it's real high tech ---"
     With a suddenness that shocked Fei sirens started to blare red and terrible.  A robotic voice started to shout monotously.  "Emergency!  Emergency!  Intruder alert!  Intruder!  Two males one female, armed and dangerous.  Emergency!  Emergency!"
     "They're on to us!" Margie squeaked in an uncharacteristic display of panic, clutching the pink toy with both hands.  Then Fei saw her master her fear and her blue eyes take on a look of calm determination that almost reminded him of the woman with the indigo hair; except Margie's expression was more human.  
     "Let's get moving."   Bart hissed and started to sprint down the corridor, dragging Margie behind him.  Fei loped after him and soon was a few steps in front.  They dashed across the dock, threading their way in and out of massive metallic shapes which seemed to leer down at them in the bloody flashing light of the alarm.  From across the bay they heard shouts, but it was impossible to tell if they'd been seen.  
     Like an animal on the run Fei dived into the mouth of a corridor that opened off the bay area, it too was lined with wooden doors, but non-seemed to be open.  Letting go of Margie Bart readied his whip, and Fei too tensed for attack.  But non came, the claxon still wailed and the voice still boomed out its message but no hoard of guard materialized.  Even so their blood raced as they pelted down the corridors, no longer caring about how much noise their feet made.  Bart occasionally glancing back to check no one perused them.  
     Fei skidded around another sharp bend, into another steel corridor with doors along the walls.  He pushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and kept on running, ignoring the swelling lump on his cheek, his minor bruises from the tournament and the pounding of his heart against his ribs.  If it hadn't been for the claxon they might have heard the clatter of feet in front of them, as it was Fei didn't notice the running figure in the Gebler uniform until it cannoned into him.  He was staggered from more than the collision.  "Elly!"
     "Fei? You're the intruder?"
     Fei nodded dumbly.  
     "Quickly!" Without waiting for them she sprinted up the corridor a few yards before opening a door and gesturing for them to enter.  Fei moved unquestioningly, as if drawn by a magnet, Margie followed, and after a quick nervous glance that seemed to acknowledge to the world that it had not been he who decided to trust a Gebler Soldier, so did Bart.  The room into which Elly lead them was a small function bed room with neither frills nor any touch of individuality.  The walls were whitewashed and the floor stone, along one wall was a neatly made bed with white blankets, a desk and chair and a chest of drawers and a small wardrobe stood against the others.  But none of the fugitives were interested in the furniture.  Bart's blue eyes ranged the walls suspiciously as if looking for a hidden trap, Margie was gazing from Fei to Bart to the Lieutenant in frank astonishment.  But Fei's eyes were riveted on the girl he had thought never to see again.  He drank in every detail as if fixing in it some inner recess of his memory, as if he were planning to paint a portrait of her.  She was dressed in the same Gebler uniform and brown trousers he had seen in Blackmoon forest, but she wore no pack on her back and the only thingson her broad belt were the two metallic short spears and a black revolver.  The uniform; if it were the same she had worn, was scrubbed of all stains and mud and gleamed white under the hard naked light, all it's colors defined.  Her face too glowed cleanly and pale, flawless and beautiful, yet still with that strange vulnerability that no amount of training in methods of killing could dispell.  Her hair was no longer the bird's nest it had been, and cascaded down her back like a river of chestnut fire.  
     "You're safe here."   She said, and for the first time Fei realized that her accent; though more pronounced, was the same as Commander Ramsus'.  
     "Elly, I'm sorry --- for everything --- I'm glad you escaped."   With an obscure sense of guilt, Fei's hazel eyes were drawn to the lumps under her clothing on arm and thigh, which indicated bandages.  But the soldierm refuted his guilt with a shake of her head, and a softening in her violet eyes.  
     "No.  I should be sorry, I shouldn't have said --- what I said --- I --- I Well I'm sorry."  
     The moment was broken by Bart, who stood glowering from Fei to Elly with his handsome pirate's face twisted into a tanned scowl.  "You know this girl! Fei I though you was on our side?"
     "We met in Blackmoon forest."   Fei replied simply.  
     Elly looked at him slowly with dawning wonder, staring at the golden haired prince as if noticing him for the first time.  "That's Prince Bartholomew."  
     "Too right, Gebler Girl."   Bart replied a little pompously, puffing out his ornately jacketed chest; the gesture only slightly spoiled by the jacket's lack of shiny buttons.  
     "I'm cooperating with Bart."   Fei told Elly.  With a sigh she sat down on the bed.  As if on cue Bart hooked the wooden chair from under the desk and nodded to Margie who slumped down upon it.  From outside they could hear the continued wailing of the claxon, like a lost dog howling at the door of a pleasant home.  
     Elly sighed and drew one hand cross her forehead, and for the first time Fei saw the veiled exhaustion behind her eyes, Miang's treatment was not complete yet, and her body was still resealing it's wounds.  "You will be safe here.  After the alarm stops I will give you the launch code for one of the Aveh excavation gears, you can use it to escape."  
     Bart's eye glinted.  "Why would you help us Gebler girl?"
     "Fei saved my life" She smiled wanly.  "I owe him a favor."  
     For some reason this stung Fei, he had hoped he meant more to her than that, for an instant his brown eyes flamed with disappointment, and then they cleared like cloud shadows on woodland pools.  
     "We only got your word, you're with Gebler, how can we trust you?"
     "I trust her."   Said Margie suddenly, speaking for the first time.  
     "Princess."   Elly murmured, and for a moment her violet eyes met Margie's sapphire ones and something passed between them, something feminine, a shared feeling almost a companionship, as of those on the same quest but for different goals.  
     "Yeah, well I don't."   Bart's voice was stubborn, but Margie glowered at him disapprovingly, shaking her head slightly so that soft brown hair and folds of red cloth swirled through the air together.  
     "She's telling the truth Bart.  This friend of yours --- Fei, did save her life."  
     "How'd you know?"
     "I just know."   Margie smiled mischievously at Fei.  
     Outside the klaxon was and recorded voice had stopped, and except for a distant sound of clanking metal, it was silent.  "Anyway now it's two-to-one, we have to accept her help."   Elly's violet eyes crinkled with amusement, and for a moment her expression resembled Margie's.  
     "Three-to-one, I don't want to see you get caught either."  
     Bart made a low questioning growl in his throat.  "You could lead us into a trap."   The prince muttered, but the heart had gone out of his protest.  
     Elly smiled winningly at him.  "If I wanted to turn you in I would have just pressed this."   She pointed to a small red button set into the wall beside the bed.  
     Bart shrugged.  "Okay, a truce Gebler Girl."  
     "My name is Elly, please use it."   She said a little stiffly.  "Now let's get going."  
     As she walked across the room to the door, Fei glanced candidly into her violet eyes.  "Thank you, Elly."   He said simply, the air between them becoming charged with emotion.  
     "That's all right Fei, as I said I owe you a favor."   She slipped lightly out of the door, and was back within a second.  "Coast is clear, let's go."  
     They dashed smoothly down the steel lined corridors, trying as hard as they could to make as little noise as possible.  Bart still held his whip coiled about one arm, but there was no sign of anyone, for all they knew they could be the last people left alive inside the castle.  When they got back into the gear bay, Elly led the way past the silent gun ship to an iron flight of steps.  Ascending they found themselves in a small stone passageway with windows letting shafts of blazing afternoon sunlight.  
     "The excavation gears are kept in a courtyard behind the citadel, from there you can get straight out into the desert."    She led the way down the passage to a huge metal door that seemed out of place in its frame of age worn stone.  With a neat flick she unlatched it and let sunlight flood in and bathe them warmly.  In the sun Elly looked radiant, her hair straight and glossy red shone like fire, Margie too acquired a kind of luminescent beauty in the shafts of falling light, her straight brown hair taking on the sheen of polished oak.  
     They walked out into a courtyard thronged with excavation Gears, at one end the high stonewall was broken by a gap that let onto the blazing sands of the Aveh desert.  The gear she gestured towards was a standard, faun colored model with no particular speed or strength, and like all excavation gears it had no weapons beyond the large drill welded to one hand.  But Fei knew that it would be perfect as a getaway vehicle, indistinguishable from the thousands of Aveh gears in the wide expanse of burning sands.  It's other advantage, was the enlarged cockpit with it's jump seat meant for a copilot.  Bart scrambled up the ladder and opened the hatch; through the Perspex Fei could see him lean over the control board.  
     Elly leapt up after him, and for an instant Fei felt his heart leap, would she come with them, maybe she cared for him maybe--- But she only stuck her head through the hatch, and Fei watched the sunlight strike the curtain of coppery fox hair as she reeled of a code, which Bart was presumably punching in.  In a few seconds she dropped to the ground, and with shaky unpracticed movements Margie swung herself up the ladder, trying her best to climb with her hands only, inhibited with the long redress she wore.  
     Fei turned to Elly, who wad gazing steadfastly towards the citadel.  "Elly, you don't know what this means to ---"
     "I know Fei, you saved my life remember?" Her reproof was gentle and it emboldened Fei, his shyness suddenly evaporated like steam in the desert heat.  
     "Elly.  Come with me."   She turned fully to face him, and reaching out one hand pale and delicate-seeming as mist, she laid it over his hot tanned fingers.  It was the first small gesture of affection either of them had ever shown for the other, yet despite all that happened afterwards, Fei never forgot it.  
     "I can't Fei.  My place is here."  
     "You don't belong with Gebler, they're destroyers --- you're not.  Look what they did to Margie."  
     She smiled slightly, her perfect lips twitching upwards.  "That was Shakhan, Gebler is more than just his tool.  If it wasn't for Gebler, Kislev would have already destroyed Aveh; they do have more gears excavation sites after all."   Her violet eyes took an expression of longing, a yearning that seemed to flash from her inner soul.  But then suddenly it was gone, replaced by a look of profound sadness.  She lowered her eyes as if her pride wouldn't let her look at Fei.   "I am Solarian, a Shepherd you are a Lamb a land-dweller."  
     "W - what do you mean?" Said Fei thickly, for at the mention of the word "Solarian" a strange chill seemed to settle over the bright desert sky, and the burning dunes seemed more arid.  Fei found it harder to think of the word let alone speak it.  
     "It means," said Elly, straightening and looking him full in the face, her violet eyes strong and soldierly again.  "That the next time we meet we will be enemies.  So it would be better if we never met again."   Like an infantryman ordered to about turn, she spun round so fast that her hair whipped out like a flag then with out a backward glance she strode manfully into the citadel and away.  
     Fei watched her go, then with a sigh clambered wearily up the ladder to the cockpit closing the hatch behind him.  Fei ran his eyes distractedly around the cramped cockpit, and saw Bart and Margie pressed impatiently together behind the main control grips.  Against the wall was a single jumpsuit with couple of shoulder straps.  
     "I'll pilot it."   Announced Fei quickly, realizing that Margie would be forced to sit on the lap of the man not piloting and feeling that such intimacy would be better left to Bart.  He strapped himself in and Bart did like ways.  Margie perched herself on Bart's white trouser legs and he slipped his arms around her, either for safety in flight, or to comfort her Fei couldn't tell.  
     With mechanical actions, Fei brought the gear up to power and flew it at its top speed out into the desert.  There was no pursuit so evidently their escape had been a success.  Not even the talkative Margie spoke as they flew, all emotionally and physically drained from the day's exertions.  

*  *  *  *  *  

     Ramsus drew air through his teeth in a sharp gasp, his rich voice came out as a tortured whisper.  "Shit woman! --- You trying to kill me?"
     Miang dipped her fingers into the pot of antiseptic lotion and continued applying it to the livid burns on the half naked Ramsus' back.  "Burns are the most likely of all wounds to develop epedermic infection.  Even with my help you will require treatments of antiseptics once a day for the next week."  
     Ramsus groaned and lifted his head, but his tawny animal glare was wasted on the papered wall of their apartment.  They were alone, Miang having dismissed all the Aveh physicians Shakhan had attempted to foist on them.  He wondered why she'd done that, he liked to think it was because she loved him, and wanted to treat him herself rather than let his body be mauled by unsophisticated Lambs.  But a more pragmatic part of him suspected that it was simply that she didn't want the land-dwellers to see her amazing healing ability.  "His n---n---name was f-f-f-f-Fei."  
     "What of it?"
     "I---I've heard that name before --- sss-somewhere and --- his technique.  His appearance was d---d-different but ---" The shear effort of speaking proved to much and he slumped back, not having the energy to complete the sentence except for the name of the doomed city.  "Elru."  
     "Shhh.  Don't try to speak."   For one instant Miang's voice lost it's icy quality, and became the tones of a lover, worried for her man.  Ever before had she spoken to him that way, not even in those nights of cold clinical passion which had started long before the darkening of her hair and soul.  There was a knock at the door, and Miang left his bedside to answer it.  
     An Aveh soldier in smart green looked down at her through a black bear with contempt.  Unlike the Solarian forces, the Aveh army didn't permit women, she remembered, and so the soldier despite his superior rank looked down on her.  "We await the prince's orders."   He said formally in Ignasian, evidently all shovanism quelled by Miang's implacable glare.  
     She turned to Ramsus who mouthed the words: "Gunship, find, kill, princess alive."  
     She turned back to the soldier.  "You are to instigate a full search, order the gunship launched, when found ---" She was interrupted by Lieutenant Van huten who dashed down the corridor like a summer breeze, a paper held close to her chest.  She glanced over at Miang and the last two colors of the rainbow: indigo and violet, did battle as their eyes met.  
     "A message.  It is in status I.   Command code.  I was ordered not to trust it to anyone of inferior rank."   Elly said in respectful Solarian.  
     "You may leave."   Miang said indiscriminately in the speech of the Lambs, and turned back into the room as the soldier slouched off in one direction while the lieutenant marched off in another.  
     Miang held the paper out to Ramsus, and gently but precisely aided him to sit so that he could read.  His tawny eyes scanned the lines of letter and number grouping, which were not only in Solarian, but also in an code known only to the Gazel and certain favored individuals of the highest rank.  
     "A message from Hyu…" Muttered Ramsus, his voice a rasping whisper.  But he would recover, he would be up in two days, and though he would not be fully recovered until a week later, he would be armed and dangerous in four nights, like a well homed sword sharpened for the kill.

Chapter 15
Road to Nisan

     "Glad to see you back miss Margarita."  Maison's voice was deferential as ever as he stood in blue suit and cumberbund, old bespectacled eyes showing more pleasure than his formal clinical butler's voice.  
     "Glad to be back Maison.  Have you got any Nisan cake on board?" The old retainer's eyes sparkled behind their steel rimmed spectacles.  Fei was astonished at the change of subject, they hadn't been back five minutes before this girl was asking for treats.  But he kept silent, sensing that they were going through a familiar routine, trying to restore a sense of normality that had been lost with Margie's capture.
     "I'm afraid not miss, but I believe our current destination is Nisan so you will be able to get some soon."  
     "Great! And I don't have to worry about some stinking Gebler officer sticking truth drugs in it either."  
     "No miss Margarita" Said Maison respectfully.  "Now, if you don't mind me saying you all appear in extreme need of refreshment, if you would allow me to show you to the cabins I've prepared for you, you can refresh yourselves before supper."  
     "Supper! I'm starving."  The blonde prince's voice was so fervent that it produced a laugh from both Fei and Margie as they followed Maison out of the gear dock.  
     "Well you've got a new gear."  Fei remarked to Bart, as they passed down one of the functional steel corridors that lined the inside of the Yggdrasil.  
     "Wrong there Fei, We! Got a new gear.  You really saved our asses back there, you are hereby promoted to ---" Bart frowned his blue eye going introspective.  They reached a lift, and as the door hissed shut behind them and Maison pressed one of the buttons Fei noticed with astonishment that the Yggdrasil had three floors.  "A higher rank."  Said Bart happily.  
     "Higher than what? You never gave me a low one."  
     Bart's handsome face broke into a smile.  "Then I don't need to, do I.  Tht gets rid of all that annoying working your way up ranks business.  Welcome Sergeant Wong ---no!" He held up one hand to stop a flood of gratitude.  "Lieutenant Wong, how's that?"
     "Still playing toy soldiers Cousin?" Margie asked Bart teasingly, as they exited the lift and began walking down another functional steel corridor, it's walls lined with numbered doors.  
     "There's no playing about it.  This is a serious operation."  Bart's voice was filled with an irritation that Fei wasn't sure was genuine or feigned.  
     "People just follow Bart because of his charisma there's no real rank attached."  Margie roled her eyes heavenwards.  "Sometimes I think I'm the only person who can see all his faults"
     "Faults? Okay I'm not perfect but ---"
     Maison interrupted the budding half-argument with one of his meaningful throat clearings.  "I have prepared number ten for you master Fei.  The good doctor has already taken number nine opposite and the young master and miss Margarita are in those."  Maison gestured two numbers 11 and 12, Bart's obviously next to Fei's and Margie's opposite.  "I have left all the ---"
     "Yeah, yeah! Thanks Maison, now push off please could you?" The prince interrupted obviously longing to get back to his sparing with Margie.  
     Maison gave Fei a long suffering look and moved off back towards the lift. 
     "Now where were we? Oh yes your faults ---" she started to count on her fingers.  "You're rude, you're loud, you have a nasty habit of fighting everybody, you smell ---"
     "I do not smell! And it's lucky for you that I can fight!" Margie looked at him consideringly.  She was shorter than her cousin so she had to tilt her head back to allow her piercing sapphire eyes to travel over his hard, strong face with it's frame of bronze hair.  
     "Well --- Maybe you don't smell that bad!" And suddenly to both Fei and Bart's astonishment she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him exuberantly.  Bart was a little non pleased at the sudden embrace, and when she released him Fei noticed a sheepish, but pleased glint in his sapphire orb of an eye.   "Thank you Bart."  She said simply, then turned to Fei.  For one confused second Fei thought she was about to kiss him, but instead she smiled a radiant smile of gratitude, which spread across her pretty face like a sunrise.  "Thank you as well Fei."  
     "That's --- That's alright."  Something about the way her sapphire eyes were assessing his tanned strong face with it's liquid brown eyes and long matted dark hair made Fei feel uncomfortable.  
     "Hay quit staring at him, your goina marry me, it's custom."  
     "Marry?"
     Bart leaned against one wall, crossing his long legs as if wishing for strength.  "Stil talking like a parrot eh' Fei?  Course Margie's gonna marry me, she's Mother of Nisan and hopefully I'll be king of Aveh."  
     "it's one of these annoying old customs, that I get saddled with him!" Margie playfully elbowed Bart in the ribs.  "And anyway Fei, I wasn't trying to---"
     "Yes you were but I don't mind.' Replied Bart neatly.  Fei felt a wave of relief sweep him, for a moment he had worried that this girl would drive a wedge of jealousy between him and his strange knew friend.  
     Margie sighed, rolling her eyes upwards in what was clearly a characteristic gesture of mock-resignation.  "Why do you all have one track minds.  No sooner a girl looks at you, you start jumping to conclusions."  
     "Hey! I--- I wasn't."  Fei's face flushed, something about the blatant innuendo embarrassed him.  
     "What I was actually wondering is how you fell in with my disreputable cousin here?"
     "Oh."  Fei replied sullenly.  For a second he had forgotten his great guilt, but now it all came flooding back in waves of fury.  Margie saw the change in him, the brown eyes going introspective and pained.  
     "Come on Margie, we better get ready."  Before she could do anymore accidental emotional damage to Fei, Bart had dragged her inside the door of room number 12, showing a degree of tact Fei had thought his blunt friend incapable of.  
     Slowly Fei walked back into room 10.  It was a comfortable if small room, with a porthole showing the sky and a dim view of sand flying past.  Fei was startled, he hadn't known the ship had started off.  Bart certainly had a marvelous ship on his hands.  
     Fei sat down on the neatly made bed and gave the room a more thorough inspection.  It was a cozy room, wardrobes and shelves of dark wood making the metal walls less harsh.  In one corner was a basin with all appropriate bathroom accompaniments.  Fei opened the wardrobe to find a variety of clothes in various colors, styles and size.  He was just about to change into some of them when there came a soft knock at the door.  
     "Come in."  The door opened to reveal Margie still wearing her red dress and shawl.  
     "Fei, I want to say thank you again."  
     "Don't mention it' Fei replied facing her.  
     "No really.  Bart told me about everything that happened.  I just think it's great of you to offer to help us like you have."  
     Fei looked her straight in the face, his dark eyes grim and steady.  "What choice do I have? I have nowhere to go and nothing to do.  I'm a murder and ---"
     "Oh stop that!" Margie said in a strangely commanding tone that reminded him of Elly.  "You've agreed to help us and I think that's great.  Whatever you did before, you've done something good now."  
     "It can't pay for what happened in --- Lahan."  
     "Well the fact remains, it happened.  But there's more than just that, you got something that Bart really needs and I think you can help him."  Resentment filled Fei.  So Margie and Bart were no different from Grahf, wanting him only for his dark inner power.  
     "I don't want power, even if I use it to help you there's no knowing when it could turn on you as it did at Lahan."  
     "Oh you fool!" Margie's sharp blue eyes so like Bart's, blazed with a kind of overacted mirth.  Fei was startled out of his newly growing melancholy and onto his feet, almost angry.  
     "What do you mean?" As if this had started a flood words started to pour into him.  He didn't want power, He would refuse to help, he hated fighting even if it were for a good cause.  
     "Oh I don't mean your skills --- no offense but Bart's got lots of good fighting men like Jerico and the others.  No I mean that apart from me you're the only person who Bart seems to be able to get along with.  Sigurd and Maison try their best but they can't be his friends.  Bart and I have been together since we were small, but apart from me I don't think he's had any real friends."  
     "Oh…" Fei muttered inadequately, flushing slightly at his own hot headed jumping to conclusions.  
     Margie's eyes took on a peculiar open expression.  Fei was astonished to see such naked emotion in those turquoise depths.  When he had first seen Margie he had dismissed her as friporous, playful and maybe even kindly but not dependable.  But now he saw his mistake like Bart Margie was a person who hid her feelings behind a mask.  Though he was still young and inexperienced in matters of the heart, Fei saw that the distinct similarity between the two of them drew them together.  He no longer worried about Bart's jealousy for he knew that this girl would not be capable of leaving her cousin even if she had wanted to.  
     "Bart's a good person.  You might not have noticed but he is.  You haven't seen his back have you?" Fei was startled, he sat down abruptly on the bed and the action of the springs in the mattress made him bob up and down like a cork on a wide blue see.  
     "Bart's back?"
     "Yes" Margie replied seriously, leaning against the door jam.  "It's covered with old scars from where he protected me when we were children.  Shakhan had just taken over, father was dead and Bart and I were being whipped by some soldiers.  I crouched in a corner and Bart stood with his back to them just taking it."  
     "Oh."  Fei said again inadequately.  
     Margie cocked her head on one side, soft brown hair falling a curtain down the crimson folds of her shawl.  "Well, now you know.  But don't start agonizing about it, it happened a long time ago"
     Abruptly a sunny smile crossed her face, the door to her inner self had slammed firmly shut.  She had done her damnedest to try and secure her beloved prince a friend by bearing her soul and now that it was over she was back to the same mischievous teenager Fei had seen before.  "Well I'll see you at supper, I could eat a Ranker."  
     "No you couldn't."  Fei asserted remembering the great green forest monster that had almost had him for supper.  
     "Yes I could --- probably.  But Maison's doing beef tonight so I don't think we'll get to find out.  See you later Fei."  
     "Okay."  She turned back into the corridor and flounced back to her own room, on the opposite side and one door down.  
     Fei looked after her, the happy glow of acceptance almost overwhelming him.  Fei washed shaved and changed into a plain blue jacket and red trousers, folding his other clothes neatly and putting them into the wardrobe.  
     He had no idea what time the promised beef supper was so he decided to find Citan --- if he'd got back from Bladavik.  
     In the gear dock he found several men in green overalls busily at work on gears and other vehicles.  He walked calmly over towards the huge purple black shape of Weltall, sitting in huge companionship with the red slim Braigandier and the powerful green gray form of the gear Citan had piloted; Heimdal.  
     "Excuse me.  Have you seen Citan?" Fei asked, glancing at a tough looking dark haired man in Bart's green uniform with the sun bright yellow of the Yggdrasil Y on his chest.  
     "That your gear?" The mechanic asked, gesturing at the giant purple figure.  
     "Yes, I suppose so."  Fei answered, his tanned face uncertain, the bright lights flickering in his waterfall of dark hair.  
     "Well that's a machine! God there are more whistles and whirligigs in that thing than in anything I've ever seen.  We've connected it up to refuel but that's about all I can do.  The joints are electromagnetic coils but I can't work out where the main power converter is.  There's this huge black box over the ether generation unit but there doesn't seem to be any kind of engine coolant mechanism, by rights that thing should explode after a protracted battle---"
     "Thank you.  Now have you seen Citan?' The mechanic came out of his revelry on the finer points of gear innards and took in what Fei was saying.  His slightly grimy face broke into a grin.  
     "Citan! That's the doctor guy isn't it?" Fei nodded letting his dark hair flow even as Margie's had done.  "Wow what a man.  See that landcrab?" He pointed to a ten person-model with huge lifting claws and gigantic legs.  "Totally gone, all electromagnetic fields totally screwed up.  That doctor just repolarized every single joint in the system! And he rewired the battery links to increase power flow efficiency."  "
     Have you seen him?" Fei asked a little impatiently.  
     “Yeah.  Went up to the gunroom just now with Sigurd."  
     "Gunroom?" Fei asked feeling a little bothered about distracting this man from the machines that were clearly his pride and joy.  
     "Just beside the bridge you can't miss it.'
     With hurried thanks that the mechanic probably didn't hear, Fei crossed the dock to the lift and pressed for the bridge.  When he reached the control room with it's myriad of scanners and controls and it's three panorama windows showing scenes of rushing sand, Fei looked along one wall and found a thick wooden door --- unusual on this metal ship, marked "Gunroom."  He was just about to turn the handle when he was stopped by the sound of a voice that was unmistakably that of his old teacher coming clearly from the unknown interior of the gunroom.  
     "The mission was successful then?" There was the sound of a chair creaking slightly and then a deeper voice that Fei thought might be that of Bart's white haired guardian.  
     "Totally."  
     "Hmmm."  Fei could almost see Citan's angular dark eyes narrowing into that squinting concentrated expression.  The lines of experience on his face creasing into evidence like the contours of a map showing an ancient battlefield.  "It struck me as a little fool hardy."  
     "Not at all."  Sigurd's voice defended his plans.  
     Fei was leaning on the opposite wall staring down the bridge with a theatrical expression of disinterest on his young tanned face, toying with the ends of his glossy hair.  He didn't usually make a habit of listening at keyholes but this particular conversation promised to be interesting.  He had often wondered in the past couple of days just who Sigurd and Citan really were and now he hoped to learn something.  Mingled with this unhealthy curiosity was the same self effacing modesty that was an essential part of him.  He was worried that he might have failed his new allies in some way.  
     "We waited until Vanderkaum had sent most of his troops up near the boarder with his sand ship navy leaving only a minimal complement at the citadel.  I'll admit that we hadn't thought of using the festival as a distraction but everything else was pre-planned."  There was another creak of furniture.  "But things did come uncomfortably close to failing thanks to commander Ramsus."  
     "Ramsus! I never liked him, how he came to be primary element I never know."  Sigurd opinion of the Gebler officer almost casually, but Fei felt a deeper resentment under the light criticism.  
     From behind the door there was a flinty rasping click, and when Sigurd spoke again it seemed as if his teeth were clamped together.  It wasn't until a moment later that Fei realized that Bart's white haired Lieutenant must be smoking.  "What worries me is pursuit."  
     "Don't worry about that.  There won't be any pursuit I'm sure of it."  Citan's tone was final and Fei wondered what magic the doctor had performed to stop Ramsus from chasing them all the way to Nisan.  
     "Well I trust you Hyu."  Said Sigurd loyally.  Then abruptly his tone changed.  "But this mission came a little too close for comfort.  When we get to Nisan I'm going to give Bart and your young protégée a few combat lessons.  I can't have them being beaten by Ramsus."  
     "Ramsus may have improved a little since we last knew him.  What puzzles me is why Miang's on the surface."  
     "Miang! Are you sure?"
     "Positive.  How many other women do you know with indigo eyes and hair and a somewhat cold manner?"
     "I never though she set foot on the surface.  But she was always fond of Ramsus."  
     "I don't think Miang would do anything for fondness, it's not in her nature.  More likely she was sent down to make sure that Ramsus doesn't blow up in front of Shakhan.  You remember his somewhat pyrotechnic temper."      There was the sound of liquor being poured into a glass and a brief pause filled with the tiny noise of something alcoholic and probably anti-toxic knowing the paint stripper Citan drank, being tipped down someone's throat.  
     "I wonder if all the old Jugend crew are here? Dominia and the other elements, Jesiah…"
     "I wouldn't get your hopes up, you know how much Solarians hate the surface."  
     "That I do.  Really the Solarian isolation is absolute, extremely damaging to the planet economically ---" Fei recognized Citan's tone as the one that usually proceeded a long and rambling assessment of something.  But Sigurd it seemed was wary of sermonizing.  
     "Don't! start preaching Hyu.  I might just have to find another ornamental like to throw you in!" Fei heard Citan laugh, and only now did he really understand how deep their friendship must have been.  "Throw me in a lake if you wish.  But I just hope we don't wake up with hangovers that bad ever again."  Sigurd's voice gave a deep throaty chuckle.  
     "Hey Fei!?"  Fei spun round guiltily to find Bart and Margie standing at the end of the bridge.  Bart had exchanged his formal jacket for a plain red one and Margie was wearing a light serviceable looking dress of pale pink.  Her long brown hair freed of it's shawl tumbled down her back in a wave, matching Bart's golden pony tail.  In her arms the Princess held the small pink white stuffed toy she had taken from the citadel.  
     "er--- yes??"
     "Why're you standing around here.  We were just going for drinks in the gunroom and I wondered if you wanted to come?"
     "The gunroom --- where's that?" Fei asked trying to assume as innocent an expression as possible.  
     "Aaah Good, Fei."  While Fei had been trying to explain himself to Bart the gunroom door had opened and Citan was standing in it pleasantly dressed in a green felt jacket and black formal trousers.  Behind him Fei saw Sigurd in his dazzling white uniform --- that seemed to remind him of the Gebler battle dress Ramsus had been wearing.  "We were just about to send a search party to find you.  We thought you were never coming."  
     "Just looking round the ship."  Fei said lamely.  Citan, Sigurd, Bart and Margie all exchanged knowing smiles, but non of them spoke.  
     The gunroom Fei found was a pleasantly appointed dining room and bar area, with a table and chairs at one end and a bar and scattered chairs at the other.  There were several pictures on the walls and the portholes had curtains.  The table was set for five with clean lace and gleaming cutlery.  It all looked pleasant and civilized with light cool colors and soft lighting.  The only discordant note was the huge gun in a case on the wall.  It was a massive weapon, beautifully polished but still giving out a brutal heir.  The butt was a huge slab of varnished pine and the barrels extend out in thick black profusion.  It was unquestionably a weapon that was meant to be used.  Bart caught Fei staring at it and his blue eye gleamed.  
     "That's my father's gun.  We had to put it somewhere so we put it down here.  This is the closest thing the Yggdrasil has to a stateroom.  There's a proper dining room on the lower deck but Maison asked for a room that he could be formal in so ---"
     "Fei doesn't want a history of the ship Bart."  Margie chided.  "I don't know why men are always accusing women of talking too much."  
     "Maybe it's because when women are around they won't let men get a word in edgeways" Bart retorted smoothly like a repost with a rapier.  
     "Stop it you two."  Sigurd tried to keep the peace, a fat white cigarette dangling from his strong amber fingers.  His single eye darted from Bart to Margie to Fei.  "I wonder if all young couples fight like this?" Sigurd asked Citan analytically.  
     Citan pulled absently at the end of his ponytail, peering owlishly through his spectacles.  "From my experience I'd say probably yes --- or they get all mushy and sentimental which is much less desirable."  
     "Sit down people and have a drink" Sigurd ordered peremptorily, emphasizing his command with a swig from a balloon glass at his elbow.  "You haven't got a young lady have you Fei?" Sigurd asked, fixing Fei with a smile.  
     "No."  Replied Fei a little too quickly.  Luckily Sigurd didn't notice the speed of his denial though Margie's stuffed toy did.  
     To everybody's surprise it leapt out of her arms and waddled on short marsupial legs over to Fei, it's cute little button nose thrust in the air, an intense expression of purpose in it's beady black eyes.  
     "I'll be your young lady Fei.  I love Chu."  Fei felt profoundly embarrassed, but everyone was so startled at the sudden animation in what had appeared to be a pink stuffed toy, that they didn't notice.  
     "It's alive! I thought it was just a teddy bear."  Bart gasped.  
     Citan looked at the little creature critically.  "I don't recognize it as any species I ---"
     "I'm Chu Chu and I love Fei!"
     "Er ---" The beady little black eyes stared into Fei's astonished face with a mischievous kind of adoration.  The creature paddled across the floor and stood in front of Fei, resting it's tiny tubby head on one pink furred paw.  
     "You’re so handsome."  It squeaked.  Fei looked frantically round the room for help.  
     Bart was grinning openly, his single sapphire orb of an eye gleaming with amusement.  "Say Fei, you said you hadn't got a young lady well now ---"
     "Yeah! Fei love Chu Chu!" The tiny creature threw itself at Fei, the pink body connecting with his chest.  Fei sat stiff and unsure trying his best to ignore the thing on his lap.  
     'Hey Chu Chu" Margie said beguilingly, her blue eyes crafty.  "How about a drop of the hard stuff??' Chu Chu rocketed energetically off Fei's knee and landed at Margie's feet.  
     With a neat swipe Margie picked up a bottle of amber whisky, one of the strongest drinks ever to distilled.  Pouring a triple measure into a whisky glass she handed it to the little pink creature who snatched it greedily.  
     "Yum yum!" Chu Chu proceeded to down the liquid in one swallow.  The effect of the liquor was astonishing.  The tiny tubby body arched backwards, black eyes going dreamy with pleasure as they gazed at the ceiling, then suddenly Chu Chu flew backwards as if shot and landed on the floor, snoring loudly.  
     "Sorry about that, Chu Chu does get a bit over excited sometimes."  Margie apologized to Fei.  
     "That's okay you didn't need to drug --- um --- her."  Fei said hesitantly.  
     Bart stared down at the somnolent creature.  "Seems to have a real tolerance for alcohol."  
     Margie nodded grinning slightly.  'I discovered it back in the citadel, Chu Chu sleeps a lot and when she's asleep people think she's a teddy bear, she was put in my room for some reason.  She was the only friend I had."  
     "Shakhan'll pay for that.  Leaving you alone with a psychotic mouse."  Bart tutted slightly, swigging at the beer Citan had handed him.  
     "Chu Chu is not psychotic."  Margie defended her pet, pouring out a drink for herself.  
     "Oh yeah, well why was it attacking Fei?"
     "It wasn't attacking Fei, handsome young men just have that effect on Chu Chu."  Bart walked right into it.  From the amount of verbal sparing he and his fiancée went through, it was clear they enjoyed, but it was equally clear that Bart always came off worst.  
     "Why didn't' it go for me then?"
     "I would have thought that was obvious, if it isn't just look in a mirror."  
     "At least we match then Ranker-girl."  Bart countered.  Margie's face went livid.  
     "Hey this's personal why do you always carry things too far?'
     Sigurd sighed melodramatically and turned to Citan and Fei, his bushy white brows drawn together creating frown lines on his strong fighter's face.  "See what I have to cope with?"
     "I do.  But have you ever considered that they might be showing their love for each other by sparing.  It's a psychological rule of thumb that people who fight love each other a lot."  Bart and Margie stopped wrangling to turn to Citan.  
     "What! We're getting married but that doesn't mean we ---"
     "And we're only getting married because we have to aren't we Bart?" Bart nodded and moved closer to her, taking her hand.  
     "Just because we have to."  He repeated.  
     Sigurd glowered furiously at Fei and Citan.  "Fighting and sentimental, boy have we got a problem"
     The beef dinner Maison had prepared turned out to be fantastically good, it seemed Fei reflected, that if it weren't for the exercise Bart and his people got from all that battling, they'd probably die of cholesterol poisoning.  After the beef was a positive mountain of ice-cream with small cherries and nuts berries in it.  
     After he had wolfed down several helping of each course Fei pushed back his chair.  The conversation had been light and fripporous, drawing away from any kind of battle plans or what they would do next.  For the first time since he had left Lahan Fei felt part of a family again.  
     But in spite of the light banter, and the constant flow of academia which passed between Citan and Sigurd like a ball in a tennis court, Fei felt somehow uneasy.  He could forget the blazing ether shot that had almost destroyed the Gebler Commander.  The shot Guided by his will alone.  He knew some people had the ability to summon and control etheric power, even without the aide of a gear.  Such people could light fires with a thought, make the earth shake or summon up a wind.  But the shear destructive force of that blast staggered him.  It wasn't ether power, it was something else, a specific use of ether a melding of body, mind, spirit and ether to produce a force of destruction.  
     As if breaking in on his thoughts Sigurd spoke contentedly as they returned to the comfortable chairs scattered around the bar.  The man had imbibed a huge amount of alcohol but appeared totally unaffected, as did Citan.  Bart was at that pleasantly happy stage of drunkenness when a person is still rational, but every thought and action is bathed in a warm glow.  
     "Do you know about Ether Fei?"
     "I know about the four element spells yes --- but what I did to Ramsus was something else."  
     "There was an old martial art that used to practice in the city Shevat --- chi, it was said to be a form of etheric attack I wonder if that was what you used Fei."  Citan asked, leaning back in an easy chair, his head thrust forward as if questing.  
     The name meant nothing to Fei, but it might be, who knew in his dark past he might have been a chi warrior.  He looked up speculatively at the lights and wondered who and what he was.  
     "Well whatever it is I figure you've got some kind of ether ability.  I'll start training you as soon as we get there."  Sigurd promised.  Fei looked to his green clad teacher for conformation.  
     "If you're going to take part in this revolution Fei you ought to learn.  General martial arts instruction will also help your skills in gear fights."  
     "That's settled then."  Sigurd's voice was peculiarly satisfied.  Fei felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Bart's happily grinning pirate's face, his corn colored pony tail dangling down like some strange decoration.  
     "Watch it Fei, old Sig's a real slave driver."  
     Fei nodded.  "I'll live with it."  His words were almost a promise.

Chapter 16
City of Peace

     The huge gray form of the Yggdrasil cruised across dunes like a gigantic sand snake, sweeping with a hum of power up massive sandy mountains and down the other side.  The stars cast a glimmering light across it's huge metallic flanks like a million eyes peering down into the microcosmic petridish of the world from some unimaginable laboratory.  As it crested the rise of powdery sand the pilot could see a cluster of lights far down in the valley.  As the red dawn started to flow off the sky and onto the desert like a tidy of blood a pinprick in the skin of god, the massive gray ship cruised down into the one small county in Aveh where they would be welcomed.  
     It wasn't precisely a city Fei thought, as he walked behind Bart in the steady flow of men coming out of the Yggdrasil.  They were dressed casually, not bothering to wear the blue or green uniforms with the distinctive Y on them.  Fei wondered at the change in them, such men as Jerico, the sturdy and dependable weapons expert, and the mechanic who'd been so engrossed in machinery.  They were just ordinary now, no elite fighting force, just a gang of men and women in a small town.  Before him he saw Bart walking with a content smile on his face, his single blue eye introspective.  The piratical prince had lead him round and introduced him to the men in the morning light.  Such men as Bingo and the strange bird like pilot of the Yggdrasil with his odd almost penguin like features.  All had been dependable and solid men, non hot headed or psychotic as the stereotype revolutionaries should be.  
     "Don't you have fanatic royalists Bart?" Fei had asked, the prince looked back sardonically, toying with the golden end of his hair.  
     "I'm the only fanatical royalist hear Fei, and they don't come more fanatical then yours truly."  
     "You've got a good reason to be a fanatic --- after all you're royal.  I just wondered about real fanatics."  
     "No.  The last thing you want in a set up like this is some nut who runs round shouting "Hail King Bart!" at the top of his lungs.  People like that are about as wearing a T shirt saying "I'm a revolutionary."  Fei grinned.  But he could understand Bart's reserve.  He and Citan had talked over history, and it often seemed to Fei that the movements that succeeded were the ones that involved careful planning and cautious cleverness rather than shear fanatical zeal.  
     The sun beat down sleepily, Nisan stood in a fertile valley along the banks of the Nisan river, covered with beautifully cultivated fields and small copses of trees that made Fei's heart jump with nostalgic sadness.  The houses like those in Lahan were solid little structures, clustered and dumped along white roads interspersed with hedge rows.  In the center of the little town was a huge cathedral, standing as it had for five hundred or so years like a rock of ages in the center of a calm sea.  It's massive sand stone walls rose hundreds of feet into the sky, granulated and carved with a host of angelic gargoyles and delicate patterns of leaves and flowers.  
     "Come on lets show Fei round the cathedral."  Margie said excitedly, looking somehow even more girlish in a light summer dress with her long brown hair falling in waves.  Bart turned to Fei, Citan and Sigurd, now standing alone beside the massive ship, watching the casually dressed members of Bart's crew disappearing into the sun drenched streets.  
     "Sorry, I should stay with the ship and try and make some arrangements.  But you all go…" Sigurd smiled a board conspiratorial grin at Citan.  
     "Just don't let Hyuga --- Citan, get too close to any of those carvings, if he starts on their history you'll never shut him up."  In a burst of good natured laughter Sigurd was gone leaving the little group standing in the sun.  
     Fei brushed his long hair back as they approached the massive door, he had reverted to his informal T shirt and khaki trousers, wondering if this dress was a little disrespectful.  But Bart and Citan both wore similar clothes in the warm summer heat; Citan in a shirt of deep olive green and black trousers, Bart in sherry red.  
     They entered the massive wooden door, pausing beneath that huge lake of a window.  Fei saw the isle stretching up before him, pews on either side.  The place was cool because of the stone, but massive stained glass windows provided a great deal of sunlight.  The floor was humble bare wood with an isle of carpet up the center.  Over to one side of the nave Fei saw the great screen leading into the chancel, and the altar with it's rail and beautiful statues.  
     But it wasn't the beauty and antiquity of the old building that struck him, more the quiet sense of peace that permeated the air wafting around the lofty vaulted ceiling like the pungent scent of incense.  It was the song.  A choir of many voice, the sound drifting from behind the chancel in a complex harmonic wave.  He noted that the main melody was a strange stately chorus of female voices, backgrounded with the sound of masculine bases and tenors like the great pipes on an organ.  As they reached the center of the knave the little group stopped, entranced by the light or music into immobility.  
     "Sister Margie you're back.  I'm so glad, that's why I asked for this cantata of praise to be sung."  They turned to see an old and saintly woman, her frail body wrapped in the same blue and white habit that they had seen on the nuns of the Nisan order in Bledavik.  
     "Sister Agnes!" Margie exclaimed, running to the old nun and throwing her arms round her.  "Who are these?" Bart stepped forward trying to look regal in his cherry red clothes.  
     "This is Fei Fong Wong, and this is Doctor Citan Uzuki, Sister Agnes.  They both helped to rescue Margie from the citadel in Bledavik."  
     "Pleased to meet you both."  The old Nun bobbed up and down in a half curtsey, the antiquated gesture seeming to go well with the atmosphere of floating peace.  "Margarita, you know your mother is ---"
     "I know' Said Margie a little too quickly, and in the blue eyes of their companions Fei noted a kind of sadness that he felt he shouldn't pry into, some things were just too private.  "Anyway!" Said Margie brightly, shaking her wealth of soft brown hair like a wand to dispel bad memories.  "This is where Bart and me grew up."  She turned imploringly to Sister Agnes.  "Can I show them around the cathedral?"
     "Well I supposed so --- as long as they don't break anything."  
     "Dear lady, my friend and I have the profoundest respect for all antiquities, we wouldn't even dear to dream of disturbing anything."  Fei grinned inwardly, trust Citan to pick an up an almost Maison-like formality of speech to charm the nun.  She was well charmed, her old face breaking into a radiant smile.  
     "You're free to look --- we have some of the oldest relics in Aveh."  
     "Anything on the origins of the cathedral? It strikes me as Early Ronian in style, though some of the stained glass seems older."  
     "I'm afraid not, the Ethos keep al