Nadir (Exodus II)

Clang, clang, clang, Ruka withdrew her blades stepped back from the narrow path and flicked the knives round in her hands. Her victim had himself pressed against the stone. She imagined right now he wished he could simply fall through the stone and escape her.

Master stood behind her; she could feel his eyes boring into her. It felt like he was waiting for the one mistake that would make her defunct and useless to the Veyka. She would not allow that, she may have hated herself, but she would not die just because others saw it fit. The traitor tried to run and Ruka sprung forwards slicing through arm as the man raised them to defend himself from her flurry of attacks. Back again to reposition and find access to vital organs. A quick punching blow and she buried her knife just beneath the man’s ribcage and pushed him away from her.

This wasn’t a life this was wrong, others didn’t do this, like cowards they called upon her. They took her out of her little room. The place she’d been her whole life and set her upon the streets to do her worse and she did. The treatment she had received in the past made it so easy.

No that wasn’t right...others did do this. She remembered now the expedition, the so called truce. Hadn’t they all been fighting before that? Days were a blur to her, not one after another but a long succession. Lines that never ended and wouldn’t for so long as the clans felt a need. They weren’t forced into fighting, not like her. Hadn’t it been said that the governing forces wanted this war? Hadn’t she heard somewhere before that they chose to prolong it?

She watched as the man in front of her dropped to his knees and a sicking thought entered her mind. Did he have children? A mate perhaps and had she denied these people that now, she was a monster.

“Good Ruka,” came master’s voice and she bit back the urge to snarl at him. Good? In what manner was she good? What she did it was not alright...

Alexia drew her hood over her head, using it to hide her features, but also to keep the clammy chill off her skin. The cold was no longer natural to her. Since her return from the surface, the touch of the underground was congealing and unpleasant. She longed for the heat of the sun again, for the light and space of the surface world. The cold traced its finger down her spine and she shivered, glancing at the ghostly shapes of the fungi.

When she had told her mother about her visit to Cathay (she refused to lie to or distrust her own mother and her promise to keep silent), Ana had almost had a heart attack. It had been worse than when during her first visit she had first told her about Derek. That fear for her daughter had had a tinge of happiness that she had found love. The stress of having a daughter pursued by the authorities had a devastating effect on her mother’s fragile health, and Alexia had watched helplessly as she had been forced to retreat to the dark room at the back of her house, confined to her bed. And still the police barged into the house, interrogating and demanding to know her wherabouts. Even her calm, dignified father had become a recluse, closing down his surgery and rarely choosing to leave his vigil at Ana’s bedside. A few days ago her brother, Liam, had been ambushed and attacked near their home. She did not know if he had told them anything. He was still unconscious, being fed through a straw, though her father assured her he would recover fully.

Guilt and worry gnawed at Alexia, and many times she had promised to leave them in peace, hoping that would make them safer. Her mother had vehemently refused that suggestion when her husband had told her, and so the visits continued. In the precious few hours a week she could risk visiting her family, Ana had asked about the surface, and Alexia had told her everything, painting the picture with weak words that did not do justice to the pictures in her memory. She had tried to promise that she would soon take her mother to see it for herself. Ana had just shook her head and smiled sadly.

“You had better keep working then, Lexi,” she had whispered, her eyes drifting shut.

So she did. She spread the stories and rumours of the corruption, using a network of patients, old school friends, and contacts that branched out from Ardgall to the other Farakzan tribes. Months had passed, and the war was still ongoing, the enmity even seemed to have been renewed and become stronger since the supposed failure of the surface expedition. Alexia had to admit that she had hoped that it would all be over sooner than this. Progress had slowed. People did not want to believe that their leaders were betraying them. Words were not enough.

The coded note had called them all, suggesting a meeting for the first time since they had returned underground. Alexia walked quickly towards the meeting place, hoping that something important had been discovered, something that would put an end to the war. She also hoped that Derek would be there. It seemed like weeks since she had seen him. She had cancelled their last meeting, when her mother’s condition had worsened and she had feared to leave her bedside. Her footsteps quickened and she hurried down the twisting alleyway. In that time, much could have happened. The courier could have been ambushed, he could have been corrupt. Derek could have... he could be... Were those footsteps behind her?

She dashed around a corner and barely managed to avoid colliding with another figure. Her heart pounded, and then she recognised the violet eyes.

“Aeve,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her heart. Relief coursed through her. The other woman looked at her wryly, the same look that made Alexia think that she was silently laughing at her. Alexia felt her cheeks colour and she took a few breaths. “Sorry if I...” she swallowed and gestured at her. She did not seem to have been injured. “It was a bit spooky.” She managed a nervous laugh. There was little to say, and her suspicion that the other woman didn’t like her lingered.

“Is this the inn?” she asked, looking at the buildings.

Jimmy Blue did not arrive at his guard post that day, instead taking the paths out of the city. Into the Ingol infested ‘neutral’ caves he went, in search of something that would accelerate his advancement to glory.

Just when he was about to give up, he heard a commotion ahead. His heart sped up, adrenaline his favorite drug. A hunter now, he walked in a crouch, spying a seated body leaning against the wall. He lifted the bat, and swung it down hard, crushing the Ingol’s unsuspecting brain.

The man had been dead before Jimmy reached him, but he still counted it as his kill. More commotion ahead, he followed the sound to its source. A woman stood over a man bleeding and dying on the ground, an Ingol for sure. A man stood behind her, unmistakably high-ranking Farakzan military, though his exact rank or function, Jimmy didn’t know. In the dim light, all he could see of the woman was her long red scarf, and already he found her perfect. Any woman who can take out so efficiently the Ingol imbeciles received high marks in his little black book. Not that he had a little black book, or could fill a page if he did.

He was unbelievably suave in his own mind, but it was no doubt that very few others believed in his suaveness. He threw the bat over both shoulders and balanced his hands on either side.

“Ingol hunting, too?” he asked, his voice echoing in the caverns. Such tact…

“Ingol hunting, too?” he asked, his voice echoing in the caverns. Such tact

“Who are you and where have you come from,” master demanded. Ruka was on her squatted down over the dead Ingol pulling her knife fear as he gurgled on his blood. She looked up at the boy, she didn’t see others not unless Master gave them ‘access.’ She was to special for the normal eye. Something that was kept in the dark and brought out when master couldn’t solve problems. Maybe master wanted her to solve this problem?

She stood up with both knives in hand and stalked towards prey, but master held out a hand in the no signal and Ruka stopped. Her gaze flitted from one man to the other.

“Who are you and where have you come from,” said the man.

“Woah, woah, now,” Jimmy replied, holding his palms up in classic surrender. “I’m just getting my bat wet, pounding some good-for-nothing Ingol scum.” He swung his bat off his shoulders, tapping it in front of him first so that the congealing blood could be seen on the end, then letting the tip fall to the ground. He leaned on the bat, his chest puffed out.

The woman retrieved her knife from the dying man and stood. Knives in each hand, she stalked forward. Jimmy, taken aback, stumbled and almost lost his balance. But when the man held out a hand, stopping her, Jimmy recovered all his confidence.

“Mmm,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “Ain’t nothing sexier on a woman than a pair of knives.”

“Whoa, whoa, now,” Jimmy replied, holding his palms up in classic surrender. “I’m just getting my bat wet, pounding some good-for-nothing Ingol scum.” Said the boy as he swung his bat around.

Ruka poised herself ready to attack if he harmed master. He seemed carefree, as though it did not matter where he stood and he was fearless of those in front of him.

“Mmm,” he said a smug grin on his face. “Ain’t nothing sexier on a woman than a pair of knives,” Said the boy.

Sexier? Ruka didn’t understand. She didn’t understand this boy either. Why was he not afraid?

“Take your sport elsewhere boy, this is business not pleasure. And don’t go playing around with her, she’s not one of your pub pickups she’s a weapon,” the man shook his head. And muttered below he’s breath; “if this is the future of our people we’re all screwed.”

“Who?” Ruka finally queried the boy.

“Shut up you dumb mutt did I ask you to talk?” master shouted and Ruka jerked back and cowered.

“Take your sport elsewhere boy, this is business not pleasure. And don’t go playing around with her, she’s not one of your pub pickups she’s a weapon,” the man shook his head. And muttered below he’s breath; “if this is the future of our people we’re all screwed.”

“Business not pleasure? This is my business and my pleasure. I’m serious about this, and don’t you go telling me to piss off. I respect your rank, I do, but I gotta get ahead in this game, and this is my ticket to the top. Ain’t no one standing in the way of that.”

“Who?” Ruka finally queried the boy.

“The name’s Jimmy Blue, and don’t forget it, sweetheart. One day, you’ll see what I mean.” He nodded with a frown of arrogance, hoped he was just cryptic enough to inspire mysterious intrigue.

“Shut up you dumb mutt did I ask you to talk?” master shouted and Ruka jerked back and cowered.

A little excessive on the man’s part, he thought, but at least she knew her place. Maybe that was the way to win her over, though. “She may be a weapon… but everyone knows that weapons need a little TLC some of the time.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”

“Business not pleasure? This is my business and my pleasure. I’m serious about this, and don’t you go telling me to piss off. I respect your rank, I do, but I gotta get ahead in this game, and this is my ticket to the top. Ain’t no one standing in the way of that.”

“Kid what the hell are you on about?” Master said confused. “did your mum hit you around the head to much when you were little?”


“The name’s Jimmy Blue, and don’t forget it, sweetheart. One day, you’ll see what I mean.” He nodded with a frown of arrogance, hoped he was just cryptic enough to inspire mysterious intrigue. “She may be a weapon… but everyone knows that weapons need a little TLC some of the time.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”

Ruka tilted her head confused, she wouldn’t say anything she wasn’t defunct she didn’t want to die. What was the winking for, did he have something in his eye? He was a strange one.

Derek caught sight of Ares, and despite the fact that he had never really liked the man, it was good to see him. Derek nodded fractionally beneath his dark gray fedora, but otherwise made no indications. Ares was, after all, Farakzan, and if someone was about who happened to know that both of them were who they are, it could get ugly.

The buttoned trench coat swirled about Derek's calves as he neared the building. The dark gray blended with the darkness, and made him an indistinguishable figure among the sparse, dank streets. A drop from above tapped the top of Derek's hat.

He neared his destination, coming down the block to approach the hotel on the corner. As he walked along the storefront of the building just before it, he slowed, hearing whispers. He moved closer to the building's wall, and sidled along it slowly, holding the guitar case along his torso.

"...was a bit spooky."

His eyes narrowed. Was that...? He reached down and leaned the guitar case gently against the wall, then sidled closer to the corner to peek around it. His heart almost leaped into his throat. It was. Retrieving the case, he made as though he was crossing the alley, and noticed them by chance. Faking a startled look and a funny accent, he turned in.

"See here, ladies. What would you be doing in a place like this?" With his free hand, he removed his hat and grinned at the two women.

“Kid what the hell are you on about?” Master said confused. “did your mum hit you around the head to much when you were little?”

Enough of this standing around, this wasn’t going to help him reach any goal. “Whatever, man, I’m out.” He gave a limp wave as he turned to walk past them through to a different path. Jimmy briefly reviewed the turns in his head, his internal compass never failed him, but he was being careful.

“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, boo.” He said as he passed the woman. He would have caressed her cheek, but he valued his life, and those knives looked quick.

Jimmy strolled down the path, his shoulders leading the way, making sure his strut was just so despite the fact the light was too dim to see much of anything.

Aeve couldn’t help a small smile the words precious Alexis trotting across her mind when the other woman turned, startled.

“Sorry if I...It was a bit spooky.” The Farakzan medic’s laugh trembled with nerves.

ALEXIA she corrected herself mentally. They might not have gotten along famously in the past but there was no time for pettiness now.

“Is this the inn?”

“Spooky…and wet.” Aeve agreed. Her hair was soaked and the mineral content of the condensation rain felt odd on her skin. She peered at the limp looking building, “I think this is the one.”

"See here, ladies. What would you be doing in a place like this."

Aeve turned to see a tall dim silhouette but she knew the voice.

“Well,” she nodded to Derek, “You made it out.”

She stepped from between Derek and Alexia with a small gesture toward the Farakzan woman.

“She did, too.”

Watching them, Aeve she felt a pang. Would Lunan get out of Ingol? She turned away to go inside and saw the quick whip-thin figure of Ares lounging against the wall.

“Well…looks like the gang’s gonna all be here,” Aeve remarked. She opened the door and passed in out of the wet, hoping this wan't some cruel joke and that Imoen was actually here somewhere.

Just as she predicted, there was the awkward silence. Alexia was glad that the hood kept her dismay secret. She did not know whether she wanted to believe that Aeve disliked her for being from Farakza, but then so was Imoen, and Aeve had been asking about her welfare through Derek.

“Spooky…and wet.” Aeve agreed. She peered at the limp looking building, “I think this is the one.”

"See here, ladies. What would you be doing in a place like this?"

Alexia smiled, and her heart leapt for a different reason – relief.

“Well…looks like the gang’s gonna all be here,” Aeve remarked. She stepped into the inn.

“Meeting for a forbidden rendezvous,” she replied to Derek, stepping forward and hugging him fiercely. “I hadn’t done anything really illegal for almost two days so I thought -” her poor attempt at a joke faltered. “Sorry about before.” She rested her chin on his shoulder for a moment, looking out at a distant patch of glowing fungi. “I wanted to meet. Only I… my mother needed me.”

Out in the street was not the place for further discussion, she realised. He nodded and went to retrieve a guitar case from around the corner. They stepped into the inn and climbed the narrow staircase, listening to the ominous creaking echo through the whole house.

Derek nodded at Aeve as she brushed past him with her comment. It was good to see that she had made it out and somehow to Cathay. For her sake, he hoped Lunan would be making it soon.

Derek chuckled lightly as Alexia jumped and ran to him. They met in a warm, tight embrace and he smiled for what felt like the first time in months. He laughed at her bit of a joke, and let out a breath of relief and pleasure.

“Sorry about before.” She rested her chin on his shoulder for a moment. “I wanted to meet. Only I… my mother needed me.”

"I know..." He whispered gently by her ear. "I know." He kissed her neck, and they pulled apart. Later. Wasn't quite safe enough here. Derek retrieved his case and they went inside to the inn.

A scrabble of dirt, unseen and barely heard.

Lunan stopped. His body was rigid as slowly his hand drifted to his sword hilt, knuckles whitening as he tightly gripped it. Just slightly, he turned his head in the direction the sound had come from.

It didn’t come again. He was lucky to have heard his pursuer at all.

Moving on soundless feet he headed to the left; a narrow crevice branched off from the tunnel, just large enough for Lunan to slide into. The heat seemed even denser in the small space. Sweat beaded on his forehead, one drop leaving a thin white trail in the grime coating his skin.

Pressing himself flat against the rough stone wall, ears alert for any sound, Lunan shoved the pale shinestone he held deep into his pocket and held his breath as he was plunged into darkness.

***

The days just after their return from the surface had been the hardest, when their fate was still uncertain.

For a while it easy to think none of it had ever happened; the government remained silent and people, unwilling to believe their leaders capable of betraying them, blithely brushed off their accusations of treachery.

After extracting a promise from Aeve that if there was any sign of trouble she would run, Lunan had used the opportunity to confront his father. It was easy enough; without the expected arrest warrant over his head he was unimpeded as he made his way to his father’s lavish apartments in Larec.

The confrontation had not gone well. Though Lunan had been determined to keep things as civil as possible it had soon dissolved into an all-out shouting match, both men trembling with rage. His father had not denied any of the accusations - it went too far for that - but neither had he been remorseful or showed any sign of guilt. Rather, he had arrogantly declared that he was acting in Ingol’s best interests and had all but threatened to execute Lunan himself if he continued to go against him.

Lunan had left in the blackest of moods, bitterly betrayed and any remnants of affection towards his father shattered.

Soon after the report of the expedition’s failure was issued, and all hell broke loose.

***

For what seemed an age Lunan stood in the darkness, waiting.

Then came the sound of footsteps echoing quietly on rock, followed by slow and heavy breathing. Two, maybe three of them, getting steadily closer. Then they stopped, looking around, clothes rustling as they moved.

“Shit,” came a voice, “Where’d he go?”

“Shhh, idiot!” There came a quiet, but distinct, thump and a grunt of pain. “He’ll hear you. Look, you go that way and we’ll go this.”

“Shinestones?” asked a third, hoarser voice.

There was a hesitation, then, “Alright. But be careful”

Three brief, bright flares settled into pale, gentle glows as they took out the shinestones. It cast more shadow on their faces that light, but illuminated the light blue and silver livery they all wore: Ingolian soldiers. Two Second Lieutenants and a Sergeant, going by the stripes at their shoulders. All wore medals and wicked looking sword glinted in their hands.

The Sergeant and one Lieutenant headed down the tunnel, away from Lunan, using the shinestones to see further along their path. The third soldier set off tentatively in the opposite direction, passing directly in front of the crevice in the tunnel wall.

A triumphant smile curved one corner Lunan’s mouth. As soon as the soldier was past he slipped from his hiding place, and, in one fluid movement, grabbed the soldier’s arm and swung him around, slamming him into the tunnel wall, hard, and bringing the man’s own sword up to his throat.

“Looking for me?”

In fear, the soldier dropped his shinestone. It clattered loudly to the floor and in the sudden illumination Lunan realised the soldier was little more than a boy, staring at him with wide, panicked eyes. He swore under his breath, but couldn’t go back now.

“Who sent you?”

His only reply was a frightened gurgle. The boy had probably never seen real combat before. Hating himself, Lunan tightened his grip and repeated the question.

“Who sent you?”

“G-General Sameth.”

Of course. Lunan gritted his teeth in sudden anger and the boy let out a terrified squeak.

“Are … are you going to k-kill me?”

“What?”

Lunan blinked and came back to himself. He was practically lifting the boy from his feet and still held the sword to his neck; combined with the dark scowl on his face, it was no wonder the boy looked as though he had just seen the devil himself.

“Are you going to kill me?” the boy repeated, mustering some semblance of dignity in the face of possible death.

Sighing, Lunan set the boy back down and threw the sword at his feet. “No. I’m not going to kill you. Despite what you’ve been told I am no traitor.”

“We have an arrest warrant that says otherwise.”

Lunan spun around. The other two soldiers had crept up on them, shinestones back in their pockets, and now both had weapons aimed at him. For a moment they simply sized each other up, then Lunan lunged, grabbing the lieutenant’s sword arm and drawing him close so he could thrust a knee into his gut. The soldier gasped, winded, and fell to one knee.

But his comrade was quick to react, snatching Lunan’s arm, doding the elbow Lunan flung back at him, and forcing him to turn, then bringing his sword hilt up in a fast, hard blow to the face. The other soldier had meanwhile recovered and landed a blow to the back of Lunan’s knees so that he fell to the ground, giving his opponents the time to wrench his arms back and restrain him. Lunan lashed out with his feet, but the sergeant of the group had already brought the hilt of his sword up.

“You’ve led us a merry dance,” he said, sneering, “Be glad you’re wanted alive.”

Then he brought the hilt crashing down to Lunan’s temple.

Just before everything crumbled into darkness, Lunan had time for one last thought: Aeve…

Milandro Spitaen... what the Hell happened to him? He was once a proud pack leader for Clan Ruene, notorious for their high percentage of attaining the element of surprise and even higher percentage of total victory. Now he's a rat, scurrying across the filth in rags, trying his damnedest to avoid extermination. Speaking of rats, he watches a few pass him, squeaking as they do.

Like a true reluctant underworld resident, he's learned to move in the shadows. It's as if it's always stealth with this guy, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The alternative, a slave to his own clan, whose greed allowed other Farakzan tribes to take their hand at attempting the murder of this soldier. The operative word is ATTEMPT.

He lifts his hood to view the others make their way inside. The few that have gone in already have his respect. They have proven that the system hasn't captured them and forced them to conform to the system's way of thinking, brainwashed them, if you will.

An unfamiliar face enters the fray, Milandro's attention quickly turns to it. Who was he? Who sent him? Milandro took out his mallet and made some light steps towards the figure, mere moments away from smashing his brain in if he came with the purpose of spying.

The man was in front of the inn, and Milandro was across from him, hiding behind the garbage. He then followed the shadows to the side of the inn, peeking around the corner at the unsuspecting chump. Now that we've caught up, Milandro lifts his mallet and begins to come from out of the corner when a little girl runs to the figure.

"Daddy," she said.

Milandro moved back into the shadows. This guy wasn't here to spy, he thought. He just had the misfortune of living in this shithole, or somewhere near. He watched the man pick up the girl.

"Where have you been, I was looking all over for you," he said to his girl before taking her away.

Smart move, pal. Milandro looks around once again, just to be sure there isn't a spy documenting him. After he's satisfied, he sneaks into the inn.

“Well…looks like the gang’s gonna all be here,” Aeve remarked.

"It's good to see that nothing happened to you Miss Aeve," remarked Ares with a grin. He followed Aeve and the love birds inside the inn. The door opened again right behind them. Ares spun around, half expecting a squad of soldiers, but it was only the older Ruene clansman.

"Well old man, it would seem that you're still in one piece. I assume you had no trouble getting here."

Milandro smirked at his one time pupil's wit. Ares had a way with words, and Milandro was more the strong, silent type. He nodded at his fellow Ruene clansmen.

"I wouldn't call it trouble, but there were a few who tried to impede my progress in vain," he answered coldly.

Milandro looked around and gave a slight nod to all the rest of the expedition survivors in attendance. He was looking for Imoen. She convinced him to stay in touch with the group, which proved to be a good idea after all. With everyone coming together, Milandro attacks the right lackey or pawn every time, until it's time to upgrade to actual officials.

It had been a slow day, so Sonia Durrell was cleaning.

She didn’t need to. Every surface in the small ‘inn’ she ran at the edge of Cathay was a sparkling example of cleanliness, not a speck of dust to be found. If cleanliness was indeed close to godliness then Sonia Durrell was the closest thing Cathay had ever seen to a deity.

But it had been a slow day, and, after making all the beds, doing the laundry and the ironing, cooking breakfast and lunch and washing up she had had nothing else to do. And when Sonia had nothing else to do, she cleaned. Which, when she thought about it, was probably why her little establishment was quite so clean.

Why exactly, her fool of a husband had decided to uproot them from Larec and move to Cathay Sonia did not know and did not think she would ever understand. Nor why he had decided that, while he was off working the coal mine between here and the next village, she should turn their home into an inn.

An inn, after all! Travellers passed through Cathay … well, travellers never passed through Cathay. No one ever came to this little town if they could help it. And the day they did, well, that would be the day it stopped raining.

But her husband had always been a little eccentric, and it was easier just to humour him.

Now, however, to her delight the door to the front parlour opened. Straightening up from where she’d been dusting the skirting board, she came face to face with a party of five coming through the door; three men and two women.

Just as expected. She’d already been given their descriptions.

“Hello! You must be the party Miss Aiyehma is expecting?” Sonia unknowingly greeted them with the name of a nomad tribe from the surface. “She’s waiting for you. Go on up. Second floor, third door on the left.”

As they made their way up the stairs, there was a nagging at the back of Sonia’s mind.

If she had thought harder about it she might have realised their descriptions were the same as those circulated a few months ago, of the fugitives from the surface, that she had stashed away in a desk drawer somewhere. But Sonia Durrell wasn’t one to think too hard about things, especially not when it came to paying customers.

With a final cry, Smythe brought the edge of his shield down on the soldier's throat, crushing it. The man thrashed for a moment, then gave a final kick and lay still. He looked about him, breathing steadily through his mask. Around him, the rest of the unit finished clearing the building and the barracks opposite. There was a hollow boom of cannon fire and the main force moved up to secure the area. He nodded to Baurus, turning to form up with the rest.

"Excuse me, sirs?"

He almost flinched, the voice was feminine, and he looked back with Baurus. A small woman was standing there, holding some sort of box. She approached nervously, proffering the box.

"Could I get a picture?"

He blinked, the gesture hidden behind the gas-mask and simply stared dumb-founded before turning to go. The woman started forwards and he almost unlimbered his sword. Sensing his mood, she held back.

"Its for the news reels."

Whatever that meant.

"I've already cleared it with the officers," she said, seeming to recover something of herself. "Could you just hold this flag over that body and strike a pose?"

He blinked again

"You mean just me," he said finally, "or both of us?"

"Just you."

He shrugged, accepting the flag sheepishly from a nervous young trooper who was hovering nearby. Planting the flag on the dead soldier's chest, he unlimbered his sword and faced left, doing his best to look threatening and inspirational. The first part wasn't hard. The woman gestured for the others to get out of the way and set up her box.

"Ok, stay like that."

There was a loud PUFF and a stupidly bright flash and she looked up smiling, oblivious to his discomfort. She gestured for him to wait, and, after another hideous flash, he was relieved of the flag and free to go. He shivered in spite of himself, fighting hard not to run away.

"That should look great on recruitment posters back home," he heard someone say.

He shook his head, jogging to catch up with the rest. They had another four buildings to clear before this sector was secure, and after that, he was positively looking forward to it.

Ares was the first of the group to enter the hotel room, which consisted of bare stone walls and very little furniture. Sigh, beggars can't be choosers, Ares reminded himself. Before greeting her, he walked to the wondow and scanned the streets. Nothing of importance, not that it'd be hard for someone to hide in this dark town. Damn, this place needed to get some better soil to grow more glowing fungi.

Stepping to the side of the window, he leaned against the wall. Them all being in one place is bad, but it's not like they were meeting their goals seperately so might as well work together again for a bit. Glancing over to Imoen, Ares gave her a small nod. "It's been a while. What's up?"

Imoen had jumped to her feet as soon she heard the low voices and creaking of the staircase. She waited with bated breath, and as the door swung gently open a tidal wave of relief crashed over her and almost caused her knees to buckle.

A wide smile lit her face as they filtered inside, glancing around at the bare walls and minimal furnishings. It would do though, they all knew that. There wasn’t much choice in Cathay, and none of them wanted to draw attention to themselves. It was certainly a bittersweet reunion.

She glanced over at Ares as he spoke, and nodded.

“Well, I thought --” she began, then stopped as her eyes flitted over everyone.
Her expression faltered.

“Wait, where’s …?” she trailed over as her eyes came to rest on Aeve, and she saw the worry etched into her friend’s face.

Aeve felt a wave of relief when she saw Imoen and she smiled with genuine gladness. She wanted to know all about her friend's escape, what had happened after the fire, and Lunan would be so relieved...

She looked around the room, her smile fading away as she realized Lunan wasn't here.

Aeve had kept her worry at bay the entire way here by telling herself that Lunan would be here to meet her. He would be here to meet her ...She hadn't realized she had fostered a certainty.

She scanned the room again as though she'd somehow missed his tall broad form the first time.

Aeve fumbled for her cigarettes, snaking one out with a perfunctory, "Anyone mind?" as she hastily lit it and inhaled the fragrant clove-scented smoke.

"Lunan," Aeve heard the tremble in her voice and cleared her throat, trying again, "Lunan will be here shortly."

Despite the surroundings, and despite the danger of the situation, and despite the fact that everything would be seriousness and gravity here, Derek continued to smile. He held Alexia's hand as they strode into the room, and he removed his hat as they entered. Everyone was here, and all the memories came flooding back. The times they had met, the trials they had endured, the friends they had lost...

Derek had been close only with Alexia. Aeve was a good friend, and a very able colleague. Lunan was a good leader, despite how much the hot-head military contingent of their group tended to disagree. Ares was....Ares. Not enough tact to fill a thimble, but at least he meant well. Imoen; usually silent but always strong. Milandro; calm but capable of being an insuffereable hardass.

He also remembered those who had passed. Tony, who had thrown away everything that had looked like prejudice and befriended Derek. Flax...Derek had hated his guts but now found himself mourning the man nearly every time he thought about him. Kaya Richards; whom Derek didn't know at all but whose death had deeply affected Alexia. Maikel, who loved the upworld, the land, the animals, and the tribes that lived there. He was born to live up there, and so he had. Kain, Trenos, and Bryan were others Derek had not known, but were still etched in his memory.

It was because of their memory that they were here today. Derek only hoped good would come of this.

“Wait, where’s …?”

Lunan. Derek glanced at Aeve, and seeing the concern there as well, and immediately he empathized. He had often seen her, in the times they worked together, gazing absently into her work, her mind's thoughts far from it. It had been much easier for her and Lunan to meet, being on the same side, and Derek had envied them that. But it would make it no less easy to be unsure at a moment like this.

"Yeah," Derek said in response to Aeve's assurance as the fragrant smell of her fragrant cigarette began to waft through the room. "Just a little late, probably."

Lunan... a name he hadn't gotten accustomed to hearing. Milandro figured there would be a showdown between them sooner or later, depending on how long it took the Farakzan to reach General Sameth. It was understandable that Lunan didn't want his father to die, but he didn't understand what Milandro went through and continues to go through. He was stalked before the expedition, and the efforts to bring him down have since been increased.

The voice of Lunan's woman was soft and slightly shaken initially. Milandro's attention was drawn to it before his attention drifted to the cloves. The last cigarette he had was interrupted by an Erira guard, whom he used a pawn to shake the system. That had to be what, three weeks ago?

"Can I have one of those, Aeve?"

Jimmy strutted through the dark caverns, his overconfidence flouted natural selection. He heard a scuff to the side and stopped dead in his tracks. With both hands gripping the bat, he stalked his prey. An Ingol? His eyes lit up with self-righteousness.

Another scuff. One foot slowly placed in front of the other, Jimmy moved cat-like to where the noise had originated. He raised the bat to his ear, ready to strike like a snake. Suddenly, a small animal darted out from the darkness.

“Wha-?” he hopped on one foot to avoid the vermin as it scurried away around the man. “F****** rats!” he said, kicking the air in the direction of the rodent.

Jimmy had no idea he was being stalked himself. In the corner, a bow was raised and aimed. Shaking from the loss of blood, the young Ingol couldn’t hold the bow straight, and let fly an arrow that missed its mark.

The arrow flew past, and then Jimmy ducked. He opened his mouth, let the lower jaw protrude in an angered awe. The disrespectful… He lumbered swiftly towards the helpless young man, pulling up his bat. He swung as he reached the Ingol.

Though severely wounded, he still presented a challenge for Jimmy. The Ingol ducked, easily escaping the first blow. However, with only a bow and one final arrow, he was not match at this range. He had no weapon to fight with, he could only dodge, evade his Farakzan opponent’s labored swings.

Already breathing hard, Jimmy’s anger continued to rise. The Ingol lunged forward, sticking the arrow tip into Jimmy’s side. “Ah!” he yelled, more annoyed than hurt. It was dull and the force of the blow was diminished from the Ingol’s loss of strength. The arrow was all that was needed to push Jimmy into overdrive, and he gave all he could muster, which was still rather far from what an elite soldier was capable of in mere practice.

The bat finally connected, a blow catching his chest, the Ingol fell to his knees. Jimmy reared back and delivered his greatest swing, cracking the young man’s head. The young Ingol laid helpless on the ground, bleeding out.

Satisfied with his second kill in under a day, Jimmy lifted his head high and his arms to the air, applauding himself and imagining the glory soon to come.