Oroboros

This is an entry for the official Nadaeion killing contenst, posted on The Marauder website! This is only part one, part two to be added tomorrow. Enjoy!

- Amanda



The Dream at last had let him go, though it was not a kind parting and the troll ripped from the emerald barrier with a scream of torment. Zaknafein lay beside him, his form shed for that of the aqualine visage of a night elf; golden lamp eyes reguarded the young troll in silence as he writhed and screamed upon the carpet of grass.
"It's over," the elven lips whispered, though the words were lost to Nadaeion, but not the sentiment as a hand closed over his forehead to calm the plagued and feverish visions that still assaulted from the portal weaving green, umber and gold beside them.
Nadaeion curled into a fetal position, naked and dripping with ether, tears of luminescant green-gold falling from his eyes. There was nothing left; his blades and gear were lost long ago inside the Emerald Dream from which he had feared he would not return. Only the altruistic nature of his elven soul mate had brought him the strength and will to part the veil and return.
Zaknafein flopped over onto his side and watched his charge from his vantage point on the grass. Scars crossed his body from the torment he had endured there; a wyvern's wicked claw still protruded from his side. With a deep, exhausted sigh his form shifted; bone snapped, sinew reformed and a feral cat of midnight black coiled around the troll who could still do nothing but sob with dry, aching heaves.
It was late, long into the night, before Nadaeion regained his composture enough to take a few timid steps down the path and discover wood for a fire. Zak soon joined him and together they sat by it with aching bellies and minds.
"Don't know what to do now. . "
The cat by Nadaeion's side looked up at him with the same golden eyes he had posessed in his true form. They suggested nothing, only offered exquisite and rare patience.
"Your sons are dead now," the troll sighed, nodding, the growl that came from his companion a solumn reassurance of the fact. "But I have nowhere to go. . except. . "
The fire crackled and popped casting ghost shadows on the trees that loomed over them like a protective blanket from the night.
Nadaeion shrugged and crossed his long, lean arms around his shivering torso. "Guess I could go back to The Marauders."


+ + +


Standing in the shade of Ashenvale's eastern reaches was Kargathia Keep. Once home to Grommash Hellscream it now held another part of that same legacy; Kerrgon Ironthunder and his Marauders. The Warsong clan had accepted them, slowly, into the fold that was their tribe and now the walls of the strong keep were once again home to heros. . or those soon to be.
The Warlord sat upon a throne of wood and adorned with skulls; trophies from his soldiers and those harvested by his own axes that, as always, remained belted to his sides. Darkness shrouded this hall of honor and destruction and little shone except for the braziers that lit the walls and the ghastly glow of Kerrgon's blades. The orc smiled, grimly, as a figure entered the hall, casting its own unique dark shadow.
Kimpek crossed his arms and leaned against he wall where he stood, to the right of Kerrgon's seat. Blood stained the priestly robes that clung to his lank, but looming frame. "Who enters this hall?" he called out, drawing his staff, the essence of his form shifting from light to dark with the hiss of a serpant.
"It is only me," a female voice called out and Arquillia stepped within, the fire-borne glow of her scythe lighting a small patch around her tiny, unassuming form. She ushered herself within, Menos shambling along in his slow and careful manner at her side. Melys melded from the shadows near the left side of Kerrgon's seat and crouched, grinning behind his white face shroud while a dagger twirled in his right hand.
Kerrgon nodded with an aknowledging grunt. "Hello Arquillia."
"I've returned from the Burning Steppes with a new. . power." she sighed, her hands brimming with shadowed energy as she weaved them in the air. The imp at her side, Karrot, did a blackflip and squeaked in his demonic language, ghost fire dancing around him. "I think you will be most pleased, my Warlord."
Their eyes met and Arquillia nodded, a grin turning up the side of her wasted face that was beautiful despite the maiming that had been done to it. Death and darkness met in her void eyes echoing sincerity and the gravity of her statement. "It is done."
"Good." Was the reply she was given and her knee gave way readily to pay homage to her lord. Menos sat nearby carving his totems, humming an unknown tune in the rampant dusk. "Stand, Arquillia, and make preperations. I should like to see this new ally you have brought to us."
With her fist to her chest in a salute she departed upon the turn of her heel, robes and cloak fluttering behind her. Shamans and warriors patrolled the grounds around her; many wore the same tabard as she and others were adorned in the trappings of the Warsong clan. Hessteon and Kogan instructed young bloods in a training ground nearby and battle calls wrecked the otherwise tranquil silence of an Ashenvale evening.
"The Warbringer will be going out for the evening?" Melys chuckled from her side and she spun, scythe at the ready only to be batted aside by the hilt of an ornate dagger. Arquillia relaxed noticably, her eyes softened and in an instant her arms surrounded the rogue in a hug that was broken nearly immediately in the awkwardness of her action.
"Sorry, just. . happy to see someone other than Menos and Glothek," the warlock chuckled as they began to walk through the grounds toward the road that led to Felfire Hill. "It was a long journey and I'm just happy, Melys, that it's over."
"I'm sure, Arquillia."
Rogue and Warlock walked together, past infernals and succubi that did not dare to confront their combined might except to glare hatefully from the edge of the cobbled road. The darkness only deepend as they walked together, but, it was nothing they had not become accustomed to as the silence of Ashenvale enveloped them in full.
"I know we've talked about this before, but, how are you feeling?" Melys commented out of nowhere, the silence having lulled them into a state of similiar persuasion. Arquillia turned her head quickly, but thoughtfully, her smile now hidden beneath the heavy cowl of her cloak except for the moonlit gleam of teeth.
"I'm well," she replied then hesitated, ". . except. . well, I'm the same as always. Tired and concerned for the welfare of the Warlord, but, otherwise certainly well."
"Good. I have other business to attend to. . I'll see you later, Arquillia." With a flash of smoke powder and light the rogue was gone and she was left, alone again, in the gloom. Karrot hopped into her arms for a better vantage point and she continued onward, letting her feet carry her as her mind wandered to other thoughts and the preperation for what was to come.

She was beautiful; time had changed her for the better except in her eyes, eyes that were cold and saddened by the toll upon her heart and mind. Green eyes that had once held the radiance of the fabled master emerald now were as glazed as fake replicas sold to children with sugar-coated stories.
The speaker gave feedback while she lightly tapped the sheaf of paper on the metal podium, clearing her throat and wetting her lips with a soft, pink tongue. Cameras snapped and film rolled, tiny camera-bots soared around her, bouncing off the forcefield that kept her safe from the occaisional attempt; a bullet had sheered off it only a few minutes ago, ricocheting off into the distance.
Golden spiderweb ribbon fell around her face, wrapped in her violet hair and iridescant smatterings of blue and pink accented her eyes and lips while her image wavered behind the blue-tinged forcefield. Suja'ku laid a hand upon her shoulder, coaxing her along, leaning in to lightly brush one of her delicate ears with a soft kiss.
"Go on," he whispered so that only Arquillia could hear, squeezing her shoulder and fading back into the group of elder Aristans waiting on the platform, staring down several hundred feet at the crowd that watched, waited, rioted with every breath. The ruins of Eridis weren't a kindly place to hold such a big to-do, but for Suja'ku, only it would do.
"I am. ." Arquillia started, hearing the feedback and stepping a little closer, speaking louder now as her image appeared on great screens along the hull of the hovering craft. "I am. . Arquillia Redbird, to be wed to the Great Aristan Leader Suja'ku Koumari Abanah of Florith IV.
"I have come to speak to you of peace among all nations and peoples in the known Federation Galaxies and how we can make it so together. Only through the Aristan Commonwealth can we see true peace among all of us, that I can tell you is truth. There is only love and kindness to be found in the arms of the Aristan people and fairness for all; Aristan, Zsalian, Human and Mobian.
"The benevolant Suja'ku has devised a plan as to how we will accomplish this. His plan is gentle and accomodating, it is forseeable and the benefits will be great to all of us. Let you place your faith in him and his people, let you see him as I see him. . . a caring individual with honest intentions for all our welfare."
She paused, tapping the paper on the podium again and flipping the page after licking her finger to help grip the slippery piece. Arquillia cleared her throat again, feeling somewhat sick while Suja'ku touched her shoulder again, gentle and firm, but imposing.
"The Mobian people will deliver unto the Aristan Commonwealth three of their systems for their use. The first is Ursi-Luna, the second Dark Moon 3, the third Dorado. These planets are deemed largely uninhabited and the inhabitants will be allowed two weeks to evacuate before the Aristan Commonwealth siezes posession. Any who protest will be laid down with force, those who give in will be allowed a chance to either evacuate the planet on an Aristan frigate or remain under the kind rule of their new benefactors.
"All Mobian military vessels will be relinquished into the hands of the Aristan Commonwealth, including all decomissioned vessels. They will be outfitted with monitoring crews and recomissioned under the name of the Aristan-Mobian Commonwealth or AMCA.
"The Zsalian empire will deliver unto the Aristan Commonwealth a cleanly defined map of all merchant routes and a list of all vessels currently flying under the identification ZSA, including the location of the Starbottle Headwall.
"Any failure to comply with these terms will result in your termination. Thank you."

Mobius; it looked so dead and alone filtered through the dusty clouds that swirled over the surface, masking the devastation beneath. Wasn't much left, not much at all, not after the Aristans came with their weapons of mass destruction and the Zsalians followed them. Grinje came too, then the RMA and when the dust cleared there were just miles and miles of nothing left.
"Mr. . Drecker?" the secretary cleared her throat, looking up from the phone perpetually glued to her ear. She cocked her head to the side, staring at the tall man watching the slowly turning planet beyond the windows with dreamy, lost blue eyes. "Mr. Drecker and Mr. . .?" She glanced over at Miles, clearing her throat again, uncomfortable with any attempt at wrapping her tongue around his last name.
Miles got to his feet, Merilyn hugged to his side with sleepy eyes and a lopsided smile. The orange fox tugged on his collar, clearing his throat a little louder and walking up to Shadow, pausing several feet away. "Buddy. . ?"
"Hm?" Shadow turned around, sighing, knowing he had been nodding off. The bottleglass pendant hung from his neck, catching the flourescant light, making Merilyn laugh.
"What's that?" she giggled, reaching for it, her wrist caught in a rough, gloved hand as Shadow snarled inches from her face. She withered, pulling away with a start and walking back to her seat where she refused to budge, shaking her head at Miles who glanced to her quickly before heading for the thick, mahogany doors beyond the secretary's desk.
Miles lightly touched the door, biting his lip and lowering his head. "Merilyn, I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? In and out, promise," he called, crossing his heart with a fingertip that made her laugh though she was still rubbing her wrist and casting wary glances in Shadow's direction.
"Mr. Santega will see you now," the secretary called unecessarily before returning to her phone conversation, chattering on in an obscenely high voice while an emery file ran over her long, polished nails.
"Shadow?" Miles sighed heavily, glaring behind him at the black-haired man who slowly followed after him, shouldering the door open and letting his companion follow him inside the conference room. Sterile, cleaner smell assaulted their noses along with the pungent aroma of expensive cigars.
Arthur reclined in a leather chair at the head of the table, lips wrapped around the tip of a half-burned cigar, gesturing for them to take a seat with his free hand. He had certainly been taking good care of himself, his suit was hand-tailored silk and bright ruby stones shone from his cufflinks. The conference room was palatial with many empty chairs greeting them, all comfortable and warmed while a bottle of brandy and glasses waited for them near the head of the table beside Arthur.
Uncomfortably Shadow took a seat, glancing over at Arthur with his bright, electric eyes. The brown eyed older gentleman was engauged in a phone conversation, nodding exuberantly to a voice on the other end, tapping the ashes from his cigar enthusiastically into a stonewear tray and flashing signals with his eyes of greeting; they said hello and nice to see you and I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Miles folded his hands in his lap and waited, eyeing the brandy for only a few minutes before helping himself to some as well as a cigar that he gnawed upon without any intent of lighting it, rolling the tip over his tongue.
"I'm putting you on speakerphone now," Arthur drawled, hanging up the phone and pressing a key on his desk. "Kuroi? Kuroi, can you hear me?"
"Yeah. .! Hey, you sound far away," Kuroi chuckled over the phone. Miles and Shadow exchanged looks curiously before Miles leaned in closer to the phone, laughing hard enough to be heard by the man on the other line. "Miles? Is that you? You asshole!"
"Where are you, Kuroi?"
". . . Thraxis."
"Thraxis?!" Shadow called out, startled; he had been doing that a lot lately, fading out of conciousness to the world around him and returning with suprise. "That little skiv got you to Thraxis?"
"No, I got picked up by another ship headed that way."
"By someone unexpected," Arthur added, leaning back in his seat and tenting his fingers thoughtfully, speaking muffled around his cigar. "Tell them, Kuroi."
There was a long pause, Kuroi drawing a blank, not knowing what to say. Miles prodded the phone with his fingertips, "C'mon, Kuroi. Was it a ship full'a hot missionary girls headed to Drahm?"
"Uh. . uh, no, no it w-wasn't."
"Hot boys? We know how you swing," Shadow finally muttered, earning a protesting gasp of suprise from the phone. "Hey, I'm kiddin' Kuroi, you know that."
"Yeah, like that time we threw ya out the airlock!"
Shadow added, "and that time we stuck you on an escape pod and shot you into space. Right, right. So. . are you going to tell us?"
Kuroi sighed heavily, beginning to speak, cut off by a tongue-click from Arthur as he scooted his chair a bit closer. "Save it, Kuroi, we'll talk about it later. Ah. . . SilverTails, Claws, nice to see you again."
A screen floated from the cieling, suspended by thick metal arms, the faces of the two far-off D*C members appearing on the wavering plasma screen. They were sitting together, backs to a tiny, humming bank of equipment while they smiled and nodded, exchanging cordial greetings around the table with little words actually being spoken.
At last Shadow seemed agitated, squirming in his seat, clutching the bottleglass pendant around his neck and trailing the flimsy black cord through his fingers. "Arthur, maybe we could get on with this now that we're all here. . . in one way or another." Cautiously he eyed the screen, aware they could see him too, his ears flickering just a bit with discomfort.
"Yes, do get on with it, we've got some work to do," Claws sighed, reclining back in his seat and chewing lightly upon the tip of a pencil, clutched firmly between his middle and forefingers.
Arthur reclined in his chair, sighing with great gusto as he blew from his lips a coil of white smoke, aromatic and cloying in the relatively close quarters. Suddenly he chuckled and rocked foreward, resting his hands on the table with a bright, cheery smile.
"I found Arquillia."

With her deep, aquamarine eyes Siren watched Tavyn slumber upon the couch in her silent, peaceful requiem. A long, trailing plume of golden and green tail draped over her legs and onto the floor where it sweeped back and forth, twitching with an uncertain dream while her ears flickered now and again as the hot breeze blew through their tufted fur. Hot, deep cerulean light filtered through the cracked metal slat shades into the tiny apartment, a white-blue sun setting in the east while a hazy green giant rose to the north blending a spectrum of light through the gasseous emissions of the crystal mines deep, deep below.
She sank into a chair and ran long, slender fingers through the silken silver tresses that fell all about her face, in calm reflection as she observed the dancing shadows on the walls. It was a continual interplay of light as the sound of rattling carts and humming vehicles filled the air; a soundtrack to the bleak, bitter beauty of Ursi-Luna. A flash of light startled her, filling her eyes and she turned her attention down to the small, silver heart rising and falling with her breath.
It was a tiny pendant, a silver heart-shaped charm with her name engraved in the soft metal offset with a tiny kisrael chip. Kisrael, the rarest stone in the galexy, it made her blush and tuck the pendant back beneath her flimsy cotton shirt. Omega had given it to her the night before after gracing Tavyn with a similar symbol of his affection, if one could call it that.
Affection merely wasn't strong enough to describe his feelings toward them and despite any misgivings the young woman may have had about his virtue she knew, beyond a doubt, he would never harm either of them. He would die and fight beyond the grave before they faced harm and for no outwardly apparent reason. It was a disturbing sort of loyalty one couldn't help but still admire and fall back upon; much like a dog that loves unconditionally, asking only for the chance to prove it.
Much like a dog Omega had never asked for anything, sleeping only on the couch unless it was made explicitly clear he was welcome someplace else. Gone for days, returning at night with fresh food and crisp, clean money, sometimes emblazoned with bruises or a cut that Siren always stitched together without a grudge.
Ursi-Luna life was hard, sometimes you broke a few bones or ripped your flesh trying to get by. What he did to get by was his own business, she just hoped he was alright. Part of her missed him when he was gone, the same part that felt mildly relieved when he left.
She quietly retired herself to her room, reclining against the headboard and wrapping her fingers around the spine of an old book. Once more she let herself fall into the words upon the pages, slipping off to sleep with the heavy tome upon her chest.

"I suggest, if you know what's good for you shithe-"
A swing flew through the air, sailing toward Cirus' head, a big burly fist with an array of sharp rings encrusting tight, thick knuckles. At the last moment the blow was thrown wide, the young man's assailant gripping his arm in tremendous pain as a howl rang through the small club.
Blood pattered on the concrete between his legs and Cirus felt bile rise in his throat as he saw bone puncturing the skin, thick carmine fluid rolling down a twisted forewarm. It was more than he could take and he turned away, running his hands nervously through short, ebony hair and ruffling his small, catlike ears. Behind him Omega was mopping up the angry, injured man and ushering him out the door; a cold gun barrel to the back of the head was all the more persuading anyone needed after that sort of emberassment.
Cirus slumped against the bar, watching the girls on the stage with tired, uninterested eyes. He couldn't believe how quickly it had become old, watching shapely bodies entertaining the audience, soft skin and perfect curves lit by spotlights moving expertly to old rock'n'roll records. Omega joined him after a moment, sighing as he took a seat, the sound of an old zippo making Cirus' ears flick in agitation.
"I don't like the smoke."
"Then fucking move," Omega replied while planting a foot in Cirus' back, shoving him foreward lightly, laughing around the butt of the cigarette. Cirus hopped away, turning around and narrowing his deep, crimson eyes with a snarl. "Yeah, you look tough, but you're just a kitten. Almost shit your pants back there."
"I would have taken him down."
Omega looked away, if one could call it that, behind thick blue goggles you couldn't tell what he was looking at. "I'm not tryin' to criticize you, Cirus, but your job's kind of important. Those ladies up there are countin' on you to keep them safe."
"Whores, hmph."
Another kick, this time in Cirus' side, knocking him into another stool. He glared back at Omega who promptly blew a lungful of smoke in his face, rousing a short coughing fit.
Omega politely waited for Cirus to retain his breath before making his point, "They're still ladies, dipshit. Just because you sell your body doesn't mean you're no good, just means it's all you've got to sell right now. A girl can't live offa coy looks and sweet words on a dustheap like this, who's gonna take care of her?"
One of the younger dancers vaulted from the stage, the set ended as the music shifted to a richer, fuller sound. Her sun-streaked pink hair fluttered behind her, tied with golden ribbons while the thin, golden cloth of her scant undergarments caught the spotlights in a glittering array. Cirus grinned as she neared, raising his eyebrows expectantly only to see her launch herself into Omega's arms, kissing his cheek and cordially accepting the jacket from his shoulders for her own attaire.
"How's Tavvy doing?" she chirped, squinting her candy pink eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing back a few snarls and brushing the fir upon her long lop ears.
"Tavyn's alright, you ought to come see her sometime."
"Is she comin' back?"
"Soon. . as soon as she's feeling better, okay Marka?"
"Tell her we all miss her so much. . . "
Omega kissed the woman's cheek and watched her race toward the dressing room, the back of his green jacket flapping in the air behind her while her bare feet patted on the concrete floor. Cirus shook his head, glancing backwards over his shoulder at Omega.
"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you're something else."

Asleep. Omega smiled as he sat upon the edge of the bed, watching Siren as she lay in her awkward position, the book lying open upon her chest rising and falling with every breath. Her arms were twisted, one behind her, the other splayed upon the pillow above her head while her fingers sought purchase within the silk fan of her silver hair. In the deep, ruddy sunlight she looked absolutely angelic, even through the thick goggles.
"Siren," he whispered, watching her stirr at the mention of her name, but not yet wake. Slowly he reached for her grazing a rough hand over her soft cheek, smiling down at her as her eyes flickered open without a start, a yawn leaving her lips while she arched her back up from the bed and readjusted her position.
"Hey," she managed around a yawn, sitting up against the headboard and dropping the book over the side of the bed. Omega bent over, picking the book up thoughtfully and placing it on the bedside table. "You look tired. . at least, I imagine you do, maybe if I saw your eyes. .?"
With a fiesty grin Siren reached foreward, taking the goggles in her hands and beginning to pull them from his face. He stopped her with a warm, gentle hand around her wrist and a stern set to his jaw. "Please, don't. The light hurts my eyes."
"Maybe if you took those off you'd get used to it?"
Omega sagged a bit, shaking his head reproachfully as she edged foreward again. Siren took the hint at once and scooted away, patting her hand on the empty side of the bed which he took without question, lying on his side with an arm propped beneath his head, watching her.
"Mmm. . " Siren sighed, catching a peculiar scent and leaning foreward, feeling her cheek encompassed by his warm hand again as she felt his soft hair tickle her nose. Seeking the deep, strange scent that lingered on his skin she brushed her cheek against his, laughing suddenly as she felt his breath upon her ear and backing away. "You smell nice. . must have bathed at last, hm?"
"Something like that."
"Oh, something like that," the silver-haired woman mocked, rolling onto her back and watching the shadows play over the walls as his fingers took up patrol, marching across her belly before he managed to capture her in an arm. "I don't know whether you're sexy or rediculous, Omega," she professed, turning her head and watching a smile spread across his face mischeviously, ". . and I bet you love being both. Well, I figured you'd want something after all the care you've given us."
That fanged smile only spread wider as he encompassed her fully in his arms, dragging her ever closer til her back met his chest still hot from the walk back home. A brisk breath tickled her ear then her neck followed by a deep, staggered sigh that grew deathly silent before he spoke again.
"All I want, dollface, is for that smile to never leave your lips."
"Dollface," she repeated with a deep, almost disappointed sigh. Why did she feel so disappointed? Someone was here, holding her, providing for her and undeniably loving her except. . .
"I know you sleep with Tavyn, but. . "
Omega hugged her tighter as a shiver stole through him and she realized just how chill his skin was without hers against it. "That's all it is, she doesn't like to be alone and neither do I. Would you believe me if I told you she's like. . . a daughter almost. She's so young, you know she's only fourteen."
"Why don't you like to sleep alone, Omega? Why do you. . . you were crying when we spoke the first time."
"When I'm alone it feels like I have nothing to live for, baby. Just let me live for you and Tavyn, all these questions hurt me, I want to leave my past behind. Forget who I am. I'm just Omega."
Siren digested those words with sympathy for she knew all too well how much the past could sting. Long moments passed as she felt his body warm and cool and the slow rise and fall of his strong chest. His arms slackened and she turns over, running her hands through the slightly thicker fur upon his warm chest exposed by the half-buttoned shift of white cotton beneath the heavy drape of his shapeless green duster.
"My mum died when Merilyn and I were just little girls. . . dad didn't have any money, no skills, he couldn't even join the army at that time; bum leg, I guess. I always remember him limping anyway. We took the last boat off of Mobius, that was fifteen years ago, and landed here on Ursi-Luna.
"I thought it was beautiful at first, I loved the sunlight and the warmth compared to the drafty, bug-infested apartment we had barely scraped by in. Housing was cheap, work was easy to come by and dad worked his ass off. . .how we all stayed fed is a miricle, but we did, and he taught us to read and write and all the things only a dad can teach you.
"But when we were old enough we went to work in the mines with him. Merilyn always dreamed of getting off of Ursi-Luna, she saved every spare scrap of her money to make her dream come true. . . but me. . I've always secretly loved it here. My best memories are here, the best ones without mom in them. Dad passed on two years ago, a mining accident, it happens and I miss him with all my heart. Guess I've grown nonchelaunt about his demise now that the sting's gone from my heart, but I'm not bitter, this dead planet claims everyone eventually. . . even me. . I don't dream of leaving, of seeing the world beyond this place. Is that wrong, Omega?"
Slowly he raised a hand, slipping his goggles from his face and tossing them to the side, eyes closed lightly while the lids flickered in agitation. Sunlight filtered through them, making his visual world one of matte red and golden.
"No, it's not wrong, Siren. If I have my choice I won't leave Ursi-Luna either, but, I rarely get my choice. . " he whispered, lowering his head to the pillow and relishing in the feel of her warm hand over his cheek. Calmly he took her hand in his, "I'm going to show you my eyes, but. . don't freak, right? They're. . different."
Siren nodded, tightening up as though expecting thoroughly the worst as he opened his eyes. They were milky white, blind to her own eyes, but imagine her start as the milky curtain pulled away thickly revealing brilliant crystal-green slitted irises. The inner layer pulsed, flexing back over his eyes then retreating several times before retaining its position at the corner of his eyes, letting his outer lids do the work for them.
She didn't recoil, but she moved nearer, examining them with uneberassed interest. "They're kind of beautiful," she judged after a long pause, giggling at the twisted smirk that crossed his face. "They are! Like snake's eyes. . . you're a lot like a snake Omega."
"Yeah, everyone thinks I'm slimy, but if they just took a minute to touch me they'd see how strong and gentle I am, right? Hmmm?" The green jacket slipped from his shoulders as he rolled over, propping himself suspended over Siren's body letting his legs sag into hers as she coaxingly wrapped a leg around one of his.
"I guess you're gentle in a body-heat whore kind of way."
"Siren!" Omega laughed, lowering his head til they were forehead to forehead, listening to her titter for only a lucid second before jealously seizing her lips in his. Together they sighed as he settled himself upon her, bodies molding together like waves lapping over one another, an ocean of aching skin and heart.
His name purred from her lips with a longing whimper, his hands gliding over her suddenly hypersensitive skin as the deep, pleasent scent that eminated from his skin drowned out any thought. There was nothing in the room, nor the world, except for the agonizing need to forge her body with him somehow, to never let him go.
It was over so quick she could barely endure the absence of his warm crush, reaching for him as he knelt between her legs, finding his neck and entwining her arms around it. "Omega. . . stay with me?"
The negative she gave him was unworded, an unconvincing sound as he shook his head.
"Why not? I want you to, we never do much together, I just want to know you're here tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Oh, shut up you ass!" Siren squealed, tossing a pillow in his face and reclining again against the headboard, waiting for the retaliation that came in the form of a feral, fang-baring grin and a languid stretch across the widge of her bed baring an inviting stretch of vulnerable stomach.
Omega caught her hand before she could reach him, tugging her down and throwing an arm and a leg around her, squeezing the life out of her in a hug. "First I'm a snake, now I'm an ass, I can't be both," Omega sighed, lowering his voice to a far more serious tone.
"I'm a lot of things, Siren, and some of them I don't think you need to know about. My past is something you can't love, now all I want is a future away from it. But I'm scared you'll find out either way. . which is rediculous because I know you will, I'll tell you and you'll cringe and walk away.
"So, I'll stay tonight, yes, tonight; consider me your. . teddy bear. . for the night, but that's it."
"Don't you think it's possible someone could love you for everything you are?" she mused, pressing, convinced there was nothing truly unforgivable this man before her could ever do.
". . I can't imagine how when I can barely bring myself to love who I am."

The giggling in the room beyond was horrible to hear, it blocked out thought and sense and Shadow found himself knocking on the wall that seperated their hotel rooms on more than one occaision. Merilyn had the highest, shrillest laugh and Miles was certainly not quiet when mirth came upon him. It was like this most nights, but it was worse now in this dank hotel on the last Mobius skydock.
The dark-haired man gave up at last, chucking his log across the room where it slammed into the wall, pages flying across the soft bed. He stood once more, stalking to the window and gazing into the murky cloudcover. Below was Mobius, the cradle of their existance, bathed in swirling clouds and noxious gasses, barely habitable after Grinje. Shadow clutched his hands together behind his back and rocked foreward on the balls of his feet, letting his bristled, spiked hair touch the glass as he craned his neck to see further below.
Another giggle and a soft, excited moan broke his concentration once more. After retrieving his jacket with a jerk so hard it knocked the coat rack over onto the floor he stomped out of the room, locking the door behind him and giving Miles' door a sharp kick as he passed, headed out of the motel to the commotion of the skydock.
Barkers selled goods from stands of corregated metal, women lustily persued money and a warm body as they caroused through the vendors and the throngs of people coming and going without much meaning. It was nothing more than endless motion with color, warmth and sound upon sound til it was a dull hum in the ears.
The smell of exotic spices caught Shadow's attention and he slid into an open-air pub filled with talkative people watching a large, garish television beyond the bar. It looked like a Zsalian prize fight, the kind so common on Thraxis IX anymore, the opponents bloody and battered, fighting til the death. Country music rattled from an ancient jukebox, mingling awkwardly with the babble of patrons and the cry of the cook as orders came up, slaved out by the young waitresses.
Whatever it was, it smelled good and Shadow wasted not a moment of time finding an empty space at the bar and ordering a meal. Saffron rice and greens, a bowl of spicy soup and freshly fried tortilla chips arrived to him with haste along with a tall class of cold beer; it was expensive food, but it was real food.
"'ere you go, stranger," the waitress cooed, taking Shadow's money with a bright smile, "'aven't seen ye 'round here before." The woman muttered as she walked away, swaggering her hips outlandishly, recieving a few slaps on her rounded hindquarters as she passed a pair of obnoxious and noticably inebriated patrons.
The more things changed the more they stayed the same. Shadow was alone, horribly alone and exhausted, weighted down by a feeling of unmistakable dread. Before replacing his wallet in his pocket he flipped it open again, staring at the worn photograph that haunted him. It was them, all of them, together and smiling on a bright, sunny afternoon as they had loaded cargo on a healthy Mobius.
"Things were so different back then," he whispered, his voice lost in the crowd, "I would give anything to have you back, all of you."
As he sat finishing off his soup he heard a voice from beyond the pub, a woman's voice rising in the crowd. She must have been some kind of vendor, but her voice was not nearly as sharp, nor did it carry the way a trained merchant's voice did. A red plume of tail tipped in silver wagged behind her, her crimson ears flicking as she stood on the tips of her toes, a feat that made her still no taller than Shadow's shoulder.
". . real Chaos Emerald! I swear it! Found it in the Temple of Immortals," Skye called out, holding a pendant aloft from her fingertips. The jewel centerpiece pulsed with emerald green color, flickering much like a firey opal. "REAL Chaos Emerald! Just 1,400 credits!"
"Let me see that," Shadow hissed in her ear as he took her wrist in his hand, pulling it down to eye-level. He could move so silently when he wanted to, taking the young thief off guard, her silver-disc eyes staring up at him in disbelief as he examined the pendant. "The Temple of Immortals, huh? How do you get down there, kid?"
"I've got a scout," Skye whimpered, thrusting her lower lip out in a pout as she tried to pull her arm from his grip. "Let go of the merchandise, huh? It's mine, finders keepers. It probably belonged to an ancient warrior!"
"Naw," he sighed, taking the pendant from her fingers and leaning back against the wall, bringing it closer to his eyes. With his other hand he twirled the pendant, watching the light like fire through a lens. "It's just a piece of bottleglass."
"How do you know, huh?"
"Cuz I made it. Here, I'll give you this for it. ." Shadow tossed her a roll of credits, amassing to fourty in all. "Try stealing something of value next time, you little thief. What's your name anyway?"
Skye balked, watching the taller man stick her "treasure" into his pocket. "Sky. . Sky Selune, and I'm not a thief. I'm an entrepeneur."
"I bet you want your 1,400 credits, huh? Well, Skye, I've got a friend here in this Skydock. If you find 'em for me. . . "
"Just give me a name!"
Shadow mulled the thought over in his mind, "Arthur. Arthur Santega. If you find him, meet me here," he tossed her a matchbook, his hotel number written on the inside cover. "Now get going."
As Skye streaked off into the crowd like a lightning bolt Shadow pulled the pendant out of his pocket again. He had given it to Arquillia, made it from a piece of broken bottle and wire one slow day years ago. What had it been doing in the Temple of the Immortals?
"Arquillia," he whispered, running the pad of his thumb over the smooth glass. "I wish I knew where you were."

The water sloshed and steamed, releasing effervescant vapors into the chill night air and dancing like luminous ghosts. Chain watched them travel, sliding off his scalded skin and from the sheen of liquid, breathing in their aromatic scent of rare Zsalian herbs. It was akin to eucalyptus, the old topical rubs that soothed the muscles and cinnamon, but it was neither and enveloped in a sweetness wholly their own.
He took in a deep, lung-rattling breath and released it, blowing soggy streaks of hair from his eyes and choking on the burn deep inside his chest, the wound that was still unmercifully on the mend.
He lay in a deep, soaking tub of pounded copper set in a private room far off the eastern wing, near the temple of the Tryptich. Slowly he sank into the water again, letting his ears fall beneath the surface, magnifying every sound and dampening them at the very same time. The heavens were streaked with meteors, twinkling in their lofty descent and a dancing aurora in the velvet depths of space and time.
Blue, shaggy grasses swayed in the Thraxis night made a deep cerulean by the moon's deep shadows. The sounds of the Gelt hunting far beyond startled him, bringing goosebumps over his ghost azure skin. A creature screamed for mercy then was silenced, ripped apart, bringing unclean memories to the violet-eyed man. Omega had ripped men apart in seconds, devesting them of their skin and partaking of their tender, blood-steeped flesh. Too many memories, they brought him sitting upright again, gasping for the air that had suddenly left his lungs.
"I thought the night air might aid you," a voice echoed behind him and he turned his head, flattening blue ears in discouraging alarm. It was the patron of the house, Eluvar Tel'Tenaihe.
"Master Eluvar, you. . frightened me," Chain muttered, crossing his arms and coiling his knees a bit closer to his chest modestly. "I feel fine, just dreamin', that's all."
"You and your friends are very strange," the Zsalian replied, touching Chain's shoulder with a gloved hand, tracing the Project: Redbird tattoo that struck out so prominantly. Chain shuddered and pulled away, unused to such an unashamed touch. "Don't flinch, I am merely taking a better look at you. I am intrigued by you in such a way that could be called unhealthy. That is, not to say that I am lewd or propositioning, despite what you Mobians have heard of Zsalian men. Just. . curious."
"Ain't never seen a Mobian before?" Chain stumbled, narrowing his eyes, attempting to piece dully what the man had meant. Unhealthy and lewd? "Big words don't do it for me, so you'll have t-"
Eluvar raised a hand, silencing him as he strode past the tub and to the edge of the terrace, watching the play of moonlight upon the bowed, blue blades. "Have you ever heard of the Tryptich, Chain? Of Ven'Vaquie, Tritempe, Quethine?"
"Ryx," Chain muttered as he pulled himself from the tub, fetching the black robe that waited for him and tying the sash quickly while the Zsalian master kept his back turned. But it was not for long, Eluvar turning quickly to stare into Chain's eyes with emotionless, oversized emerald orbs. "Ryx, the Diviner. .?"
"How did you. . ?"
"Sometimes I jus' know things, don't ask me how." Chain was defensive, stumbling back into one of the cold, stone columns as he watched the man approach him, coming within several feet, those eerie eyes making his stomach tremble. "I'm not feeling so well, maybe it's time for bed."
Eluvar shook his head, reaching for Chain's hand and pulling him along by it. Reluctant to follow, but knowing he had no choice, Chain quietly stepped through the blue reeds toward the temple glowing in the eerie presence of a full moon. Cold stone pillars creating a framework entangled in fragrant vines with heart-shaped leaves and golden flowers, crimson fruit ripening under the chill light. A beaded curtain of purple kisrael stone and emerald crystal twinkled and filled the air with their muse's sound, enchanting and sending a frightful shiver up Chain's back, the hair on his neck standing on edge.
"I don't want to be here," he protested in a meek voice as he parted the curtain, bare feet padding on the slick, black floor. As his eyes took in the darkness of this temple and the nightmare faces of dead dieties he felt a weakness in his knees, whispers filling his ears that he could have sworn were more than the rustling of wind through the reeds. "I don't want to be here," Chain repeated, covering his ears and breathing heavily.
Eluvar shook his head as he walked a circuit around Chain, eyeing him with great interest and brushing the coal black hair behind his ears, narrowing his eyes with scrutiny. "You know what this is, don't you? What it means?" The Zsalian master held a hand aloft, sweeping it back along a row of carved figures that seemed to loom out to touch Chain with insistance. Ven'Vaquie, clad in ceremonial armor, reaching foreward with long, bladed fingers while Quethine's mouth was pried open in a scream of utter agony, raking the darkness for the help that would not come. Tritempe was ever watchful, arms extended together, holding a crystal sword in one fist and a single flower in the other while his eyes were gentle, seething fires. "The Tryptich, the spirit of the war."
Chain inched foreward, touching Quethine's fingertips, sliding his hand into the cold, stone mockery of flesh in comfort. "Suffering and pain, Quethine endured as he was slain by a jealous hand. By Ven'Vaquie and Tritempe, blades of his lover's faithless tryst." His violet eyes opened wide as he slowly pulled his hand from the statue taking in a glance at his fingertips in disbelief. "Ven'Vaquie is lust, Tritempe is justice. The rose and sword, love and hate. . . I. . " at tear rolled down his cheek and he lowered his hand to his side, snarling at Eluvar who stood so close, a hand wavering over his shoulder.
Eluvar lowered his hand, gripping the musclebound shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You must be confused," he professed, seeing an expression that bordered on terror in Chain's violet eyes, "I know what it is like to be confused. Just close your eyes and let the feeling wash over you, don't let it torment you."
"It don't make sense, none of it!"
"It makes perfect sense, Chain, all of it. Stop battling with yourself and just let everything in. Understand what you feel and what you see," Eluvar hissed, far too close to Chain's ear for comfort. "The past, the present, the future and everything that lies inbetween. Haven't you ever known something deep inside and have it happen? Haven't you known which direction to go or where everything is despite having never set foot in that place before? It is an advanced cognition, it is an understanding of that which should not be understood."
"Whatever you're tryin' to tell me is not making me feel much better, get your hands off of me!" Chain tore away, stumbling as his feet refused to give him purchase on the slick floor. He pirouetted in mid-air, landing with a harsh moan into cold, ungiving arms. Slowly he slid away, feeling the bite of frigid crystal in the skin of his underarm and lept foreward, clinging to the arms of the statue for dear life as his blood trickled down the ebon stone.
"There is a prophecy, a telling passed down for generations through the lines of those most loyal to the Tryptich. It is of Ryx, The Diviner, the child blessed with the power to bring or abate the will of the Tryptich. He is a man, a strong man with powers no man should ever posess." Eluvar's boots clicked on the floor, rhythmic and chilling as his voice slithered through the darkness. "Since you've come I have had a feeling, a premonition. We deserve this, Tel'Tenaihe DESERVES this right, to be the honorable servants of Ryx! Don't tell us we do not deserve it!"
Chain tore away from the statue of Tritempe, wrenching the sword from his grasp and brandishing it at arm's length, pointed toward Eluvar in defence. "Just. . shut the FUCK up!" Chain howled, stepping foreward and slashing, the point of the blade scraping Eluvar's cheek and knocking his head to the side. The Zsalian raised a gloved hand, touching the scratch and pulling his fingers away, blood dripping from the black Gelt leather. The sword flashed foreward again, but Eluvar siezed the brittle blade in a strong hand, staying Chain's blow with incredible strength.
Veins popped out on his neck, his teeth gritted together while he suddenly snapped his wrist to the side, breaking the fragile crystal shaft in half. With a snarl of pure anger he threw the waisted point to the ground where it further shattered, crystal dancing over the black tile with the sound of raindrops. Chain dropped the weapon to his side, lightly fingering the hilt as another tear slid down his cheek, his chest expanding with a shaky, disoriented sob.
"I'm not anything you think I am," Chain whispered, his voice broken, "I'm just Chain, for the love of god. I'm just Chain." The floor seemed to rush up to meet his knees just as his hands rose to his burning cheeks. "'m nothing else, leave me alone, just. . leave me alone. ."
"There's Zsalian blood in you and it is not weak. Give in, recognize what you can do."
"No. . NO!" Chain roared, throwing his head back, his fists curling into balls that drove the blood from his knuckles and highlighted blue flesh white. Flame slithered around his fingers, rising up the bulging muscles of his arms and searing way the fabric of his black robe. "NOOOOooo. . no. ." he moaned, falling foreward, flame licking his body and illuminating his reflection in the mirror-polished tile. It set alive the eyes of the gods captured in stone, every flicker enhancing the movement he swore was there.
Years later Eluvar would still be unable to attest to what had happened in his temple that night, but, he knew one thing for certain. Chain was a power to be feared, he knew that as the flames rose higher and consumed the tender blue grasses, seared the fruit from the vines and charred the stone with ash. A phoenix rose from unsightly depths, like the symbol so crudely represented on his shoulder, a rebirth into another life.
If he wasn't Ryx he was something equally powerful, terrifying. And yet, as U'pase and Liro tended to him in the morn, on the floor of the temple for Eluvar had feared to move him, he was timid as a kitten. Any trace of anger and resistance had been shattered like Tritempe's sword.
"You will train and you will fight for me, "Eluvar whispered to Chain as he lay on the cold tile, watching the daughters tend to him and wrap his burned hands in soft, cooling gauze. "I will teach you to control this power and in turn you will represent me in the tournament."
"Yes, Master Eluvar," Chain sighed, so weary he could barely speak.
Before falling back into the gentle embrace of unconciousness he caught a glimmer of light in the heavens and wondered, briefly, about how his life had been shattered in a single night and how unfair it must be to lay such responsibility, such guilt, on him. Of all people, it had to be him.

"Why hello there," Novis purred as the door slid shut behind him. He leaned against it and unbuttoned the front of his uniform jacket; red with black hashes on the sleeves, a golden triad symbol of the three major Zsalian dieties emblazoned on the shoulders.
Griffwhyte raised his head slowly, shaggly black hair pooling around his slim face and further framing deep, enigmatic eyes. He lay upon the bed, on his stomach, chin cradled in the palms of his hands while a book lay open before him on the satin sheet. "Novis. ." he chuckled, blushing in the apples of his dark cheeks.
"You really should be in here, this is the Emperor's bedroom. . but I'll make an exception since you're so pretty. Come here, give me a kiss, hm? I have good news."
The smaller Zsalian launched from the bed, leaping into Novis' arms and coiling his legs around the emperor's waist. They kissed deeply, lost in the comfort of one another, falling into the bed and writhing together til breath became more than urgent. Lying together they took in air, Novis smiling at Griffwhyte, tracing a finger down his cheek. "I love you, Griff, I love you more than life itself. No matter what happens we will always be together."
"Oh, Novis. ." Griffwhyte whimpered, lowering his head into his hands and shivering, "We can't keep doing this. We can't keep meeting like this, it isn't right."
Novis gathered him into his arms, kissing his face and stroking his hair back with long, gentle fingers. "Stop it, Griff, I won't do that. I can't stop coming to you, I love you."
"Then tell everyone the truth!"
The emperor rolled out of the bed, storming toward the door and retrieving his jacket again, hastily doing the buttons as Griffwhyte sobbed into his hands, a broken mess. "I have lied for you, over and over again. I have let this entire nation know that the chosen mate of Emperor Novis Terminus is a male, is Griffwhyte of Erador, last son of the ruling family. Isn't that enough for you, Griff? Haven't I sacrificed my pride enough? Lived through their ridicule on your behalf? Don't make me destroy their faith in me, in us, too."
"Novis, I'm pregnant. ."
"No. No, you said you. ." Novis balked, rushing foreward to take Griffwhyte into his arms once more, letting him sob into his jacket.
"I know, but I am, okay? I just am," Griffwhyte moaned, pulling away and running his hands over his belly as though feeling the life that grew within. "Just because I pretend to be a man doesn't mean I am one, it happens and you weren't really careful, were you?"
It had been a suprise to Novis when he had discovered Griffwhyte was not only the second in line to the throne, but also female. She had become, over many years, something of a silent admirer of Novis. Their relationship had been friendly, both recognizing the barriers that divided them, but there was none more obvious than the chaos that would erupt if the truth had become known. Especially now with the young enigma thrust into the spotlight, one of the joint rulers of the shattered Zsalian empire.
They had accepted their position, and in their grief had forged their love. The night Erador had fallen, together they had cried and made love, had discovered what each had hidden from all others for so long. Novis loved Griffwhyte for who he was and for who she was; Griffwhyte loved Novis for his past and for the future that could have alone only been his.
"Griff, we'll find a way to make this work," Novis soothed, kissing the tips of her ears.
Griffwhyte smiled, "What was your news? Tell me!"
Oh, of course," he chuckled, clearing his throat and adopting a more formal tone of voice, "we have been cordially contacted by Suja'ku, leader of the Aristan Commonwealth. He wishes an audience with us to discuss terms of peace."
"Peace? Really? You think all of this could be over?"
Novis closed his eyes, lying back on the bed with his lover nestled safely in his arms. "Maybe, who knows? But it's a start down the right path, don't you think? I want to raise our child in blissful ignorance we knew."
"Me too, Novis, me too."

Like a tense and angered lion Suja'ku paced his quarters, wheeling from one end to the other, snarling between clenched teeth. How that woman could make him angry! How that woman made him simply fume with unbridled passions, emotions and pure, aching anger.
"Where is Arquillia?" he seethed into the intercom, punching the call button with a finger.
Static returned to him, then a coarse voice, "She is in the second galley tending to the wounded, sir."
"Bring her to me! NOW!"
He cut the intercom off before the soldier could reply, tossing himself on the bed and squeezing a pillow flush to his chest, holding it close and burying his face in the soft material. As the Aristan commander lay pouting he heard the door slide open, Arquillia step slowly into the room and clear her throat. His silver-green eyes opened, peering over the pillow at her unamused visage.
Time had changed her, of course, and healed the wounds that had debilitated her for so long. In a crisp, clean Aristan uniform she looked quite appealing, thick and curvy in a way no Aristan or Zsalian female ever dared to be. Thick, braided ropes of amythest hair curled down her back and over her shoulders, golden disc charms woven into them with slim, green satin ribbon. She tugged slowly upon the cuffs of her sleeves and cleared her throat, "Suja'ku, you wanted to see me?"
Suja'ku could feel his heart melting into the cold, empty crevasses of his soul and withered a sigh, sinking his head into the soft bedding. She approached him, gliding a rough hand over his forehead to feel his always abnormally high temperature, which was to say normal for an Aristan.
"Let me turn the temperature up, you shouldn't be exuding so badly. I haven't seen you in the galley all day, you haven't been eating, have you? Eat something, it would help." Arquillia crossed the room, toying with the thermostat, her back to him, a long violet tail swishing behind her of its own free will.
"No food, drink or kind words could help, only you. Stop doing this to me, Arquillia. Stop it!"
"Stop what, your benevolence?" Her smile was a sly simper as she turned her head, watching him over her shoulder.
How the prey becomes the predator so quickly. .
. . she has you, Suja'ku, just give in.
Give in? Give in! Never, it would disgust your ancestors.
Stop, let it be, let there be peace, please!
Just give in. . you lost. .
Suja'ku gripped his ears in his hands, moaning and knocking his head against the headboard. The pain shocked him from the contact he had melted into, the sounds of his crewmates fading from his mind as he stood up abruptly and dogged to the window, pressing an aching forehead to the cold pane.
Arquillia ran a hand down his back, sliding to the side and encompassing his waist in an arm. He gave in, moving quickly into her arms and forging an embrace of his own, resting his chin atop her head with surrender. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to contact the ZSA Starbottle Headwall, Warfalcon class. You know the ship, you know who's on board and who I want to talk to."
"Novis Terminus, Emperor Elite. . "
"Yes, and Griffwhyte of Erador, the Zsalian Emperors. I want to speak to them both, I want you to speak to them. There has to be peace, you and I both want it and there won't be any til both sides atone for their sins."
Suja'ku moaned, sick at the thought. Peace talks did not sit well with him. "Arquillia, what will I recieve in return for this? Don't think me greedy, but this is more than anyone should ask of me, my race will not be controlled by a woman who is n-"
"Not their leader's wife," Arquilia finished, cooing, "In return I will marry you, but only if I may recieve all powers entitled therein."
That serpant!
"Will you love me, Arquillia?" It was too much to hope, his sick heart faltered.
Her soft lips brushed against his and he faltered again, backing away, his heart skipping beats. Quickly he turned his eyes away and watched the progression of starlight beyond the window.
Arquillia moved again into his arms, resting her head upon his chest and listening to the beat of his heart til it soothed, his hand trailing up and down her back. "If there is any love left in my heart I promise it is yours, Suja'ku, and yours alone. Do this for me, make peace, make me your wife and I will love you for all of eternity."

Late that night as they lay in bed together, Suja'ku's soft breath on her neck reminding her that sleep should take her soon she watched the stars with saddened, green eyes. She would give up anything to mend the rift, that was true, but something nagged at her heart bringing a surge of terror to her unconcious mind.
"Grinje, where are you? I think you've misplaced yourself inside of me," she whispered to the darkness, "I'm becoming more and more like you with every day."

Hot, hurt and alone is how Omega began every day on Ursi-Luna. He climbed from the alcove he had called a bed and stretched, arching his back with his hands firmly placed upon the lower portion, several snaps heralded by a wince of pain. Sunburned and turned a darker, ruddy red than he had been days before he flinched away from the sunlight, seeking the sparse shadows for comfort, blinking wildly behind a pair of dark goggles. Without moisture to protect his delicate eyes the burning was intense, his inner lids closing tight over the emerald slit, milky white and hazy to view through. A few streaks of sunny blonde ran through his hair, highlighting the true ruby red with hints of golden-bronze.
Omega yawned, shook his head and stepped out again into the sunlight onto the sand-strewn sidewalk. Many windows were boarded up or non-existant, but he caught his reflection in an unbroken pane. Vainly he finger-combed his hair and grinned; he thought he looked pretty good for a wreck, but, Omega was Omega's best friend and his appraisal of himself was always several notches higher than anyone else's.
Several miners passed by him, their thick canvas overalls slicked with grease and dust, chatting to one another and heaving heavy breaths of the low oxygen. Omega knocked into one of them, stumbling, his hand diving into a pocket and retrieving a thick billfold which he gently stowed in his own pocket, muttering an apology as he went. Around the corner he devested himself of the wallet and pocketed the several hundred paper credits. It was probably a week's pay, but he could care less either way, sighing as he continued on his merry way, walking on cloud nine despite the harsh conditions.
He was free. Omega Helix was free of everything and everyone and there was nothing finer to the recombant than his own freedom. Here in this place without laws, without morals, without water and thank the Gods for that! There were drugs, liquor and ladies willing to do anything for a little bit of pocket money. Omega lounged in a particularly bright patch of soft, sandy earth sunning himself and purring as he watched the progression of triple suns, orbiting in slow harmony above him. "Beautiful," he whispered, a grin taking his expression by suprise; he reeled his head back and laughed richly, exaultant in his predicament.

* * *

"Goodnight, Watterson," Siren yawned, waving a hand to the computer as it began to shut down. A slow sigh of electronic buzzing followed her out the door where she leaned against the hot metal, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness behind dark shades. The street was empty, except for a reclining man beside one of the larger billboards, his red hair waving in the breeze. He raised a hand to her in a lazy greeting and she returned the gesture, wandering over to him curiously.
She took a seat on the billboard ledge, leaning back against a worn out advertisement for the RMA Recruiting Station that had ceased to exist several years ago. "You look new around here," she remarked, amicably, "so maybe you don't know, but, there are a few shelters you can hide in. Aren't you dying of heat yet?"
Omega rubbed his fingers over the lenses of his goggles and smiled, "Love it."
"You're sunburned all over. Look, maybe I could show you to one of the shelters, it's real close. I don't bite, you know. We're all stuck here." Something was nagging at her, in the back of her mind, something about him seemed familiar but she simply couldn't place it. He was sitting up straighter then bringing himself to a crouch, reaching a hand out for hers. She took it, cautiously, shaking his hand and suprising him with the firm grip. "You really must be new, guys around here don't shake hands much. ."
Omega gripped her hand tighter, pulling it closer, lowering his head to brush his chapped, rough lips over the back of her knuckles. "I pray this is more acceptable?"
"A-actually that's a lot more polite than. . " she stammered, pulling her hand back and rubbing it compulsively, blushing in the apples of her cheeks.
"It's a sad day when I'm the polite one, dollface," he returned as he stood, padding away a short distance then glancing at her over his shoulder, adjusting his goggles. She could see the harsh brand on his shoulder and winced, not understanding the implication of it. Then, something else caught her eye, hitting her like a slap in the face; carved into the back of his leather belt was a single, archaic symbol.
"Omega."
"Siren," he countered, looking away, smelling something on the breeze that didn't sit with him. Gunpowder, grease and pheromone anger. "Lets get out of here," he muttered, backing up and taking her arm in his hand, squeezing it to accentuate his point quite clearly.
"What is it?" she whispered harshly, silvery ears flattening to her head as his ears did the same, a hiss slipping through his clenched teeth. "What is it?!"
A hand slid over her mouth as he pulled her from the open, into the dappled shadow of an alley, searching wildly with glazed eyes. Siren struggled against him, but her blood ran cold as ice as she heard the footsteps and saw them.
Purple bandanas and sashes, weapons held at their side; they were members of one of the more violant street gangs. Murderers, rapists and vandals all, terrorizing those who strived hard to make a living on this dead planet. Siren had seen them before, but, never so close. . her blood ran cold, her breath quicker as she saw the three men pull a bound and gagged girl behind them.
She fought hard, screaming and kicking, her clothing in bare tatters. Tears streamed down her green-gold cheeks as her long, emerald hair was pulled harshly from behind, her knees knocked out from under her. Omega was fuming, upper lip rising in a deep, gutteral snarl. His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and wrapping the thick strap of leather around his right hand, clenching it into a fist and feeling the thick pressure of silver studs encased in his palm and lining the outside of a now more dangerous weapon. With a finger to his lips he begged Siren be silent; alone he stepped into the light.

* * *

Tavyn opened her golden eyes wide, watching the red-haired man step foreward with the belt looped around his fist. He was probably insane, but with the golden sunlight illuminating him he looked like an angel; someone had come to save her. "Let her go," he said, cocky, easing his head to the side to hear his neck crack, popping his knuckles with a scoff as he waited for a reply.
Her attackers sneered, laughing at the pitiful opponent. One of them unsheathed a knife, tapping it against his thigh. "Git out 'o here, bitch, this ain't none 'o yer affair. This li'l tart forgot teh pay for 'er protection. . . we're men providin' a service and we be wantin' our pay. Right, boys?"
A general nod of agreement, lewd laughter and a kick to Tavyn's backside eminated that the agreement was all around. Omega steeled himself, wondering if it was worth it; he could just dart away and leave both Siren and this helpless, gold-eyed beauty to the wolves. Tavyn curled a long plume of green tail around her legs protectively, tipped in gold, her toes and fingertips the same ochre hue as well as the soft tufts atop tall, elegant ears.
No, he would have to fight.
"Well," Omega chuckled, taking a long step foreward, "I'm here to give a little lesson in customer service boys. . " Inside he winced, disbelieving he'd actually said that; obviously the disbelief was mutual, the air filling with harsh laughter from the three goons.
He snapped foreward, meeting the closest of the three in a frontal charge, skidding into a slide as a fist whistled through the air above his head. A thick soled boot collided with the thug's knee bringing a sharp crack and a howl of pain as he reeled foreward, over Omega who rolled out from beneath him in time to avoid the flying bulk, halting just short of a gunshot that had aimed for his head. With a deft backwards roll he was back on his feet, kicking the gun out of the second man's hand, metal glinting in the air then falling many feet away with a puff of sand and dust.
"Get out of here," he returned the warning, lashing the loosely wrapped belt with a flick of his wrist as he lunged closer. The thick band of leather snapped in the air, coiling around a thick, greasy neck, Omega catching the loose end in his hands and cinching the belt closed in seconds; the thug was on the ground choking to death in shock, fumbling his hands over the knot that held him to his demise.
Seeing his own death eminent the third man bolted into the alley, opening his mouth to cry out in alarm, voice leaving him before he could draw in breath for the effort. As he lay upon the sand shuddering, blood pouring from the back of his head, he saw Siren standing over him with a length of castoff metal pipe in her hands. She watched the light begin to face from his eyes before dropping the pipe, skipping into the sunlight and rubbing her hands over the front of a dark tan jacket. "Oh god, oh god. . . I think I killed him. Is he dead? Is he dead?"
Tavyn spat the gag from her mouth, "Untie me, will you?! Before more of them come!" Siren assisted her in her shock, untying the ropes, glancing nervously about for Omega who was suddenly nowhere to be found. The first man who had shattered his kneecap was no longer in sight, "Where did he. . . ?"
"He ran that way, he chased him," Tavyn gesticulated, pointing wildly toward the skinny recess between two buildings.
Just as Siren had stood to give chase after the mysterious red-headed man she saw him reappear, rubbing his face with the back of a hand and smiling. She didn't smell the blood on his breath; maybe she was too unaccustomed to the scent of it or maybe too happy he had not been killed. "Omega, you're alright?"
"I'm fine, girl, lets get outta this sunlight. Hey, you alright?" he questioned, crouching down before Tavyn.
Tavyn's golden eyes widened and she threw herself into Omega's arms, wringing him about the neck so tight was her hug. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she exclaimed, kissing his cheeks and laying an exhusted head upon his shoulder. With unwavering strength he took her into his arms, standing on his feet and turning his eyes upon Siren once more, though veiled in the murky dark of tinted goggles.
"That shelter you were talking about?"
"She's hurt, Omega, come on. . I have a place nearby. ." I trust you, she almost said, feeling foolish. But, when she looked upon him holding the young woman in his arms, comforting her, she knew she did. Despite a life on Ursi-Luna distrusting anything that breathed she trusted him, from the moment he had come into her existance. "Come on, lets go."
"Nice to meet you Siren," Omega sighed as they continued down the street.
"Yes, it's finally nice to meet you too, Omega. . ."

House Tel'Tenaihe was small, but well to do and despite having lost it's Mistress had continued to hold itself in high reguard. Their home was stunning upon the eyes; grand, open halls of marble pillars with sweet, climbing flowers that would bear lovely fruit in the end of the season, arched cielings of onyx and silver studded with crystal, the effect fully enchanting. A stroll through the home was a feast for every sense and often while one was sitting in one wing they could still hear the beautiful chime of the daughter's laughter from the opposing wing.
Grinje delighted himself, when the pain in his legs would allow, sitting upon the chilled marble and watching the small family of Gelt lope among the tall, blue-headed blades of fragrant grass. A servant he was, his duties arduous, but there was always serenity after his affairs which often allotted to the tending of the House Records, his body being useful for nothing more.
He lifted a hand, brushing the hair from his eyes and fingering the thick, black veil that hid his disgusting features from sight. A long, shapeless robe cinched about his waist with green sash further obscured his monstrosity from delicate eyes, the cowl completing the effect, leaving nothing but his deformed hands and peering eyes to offend.
A soft hand touched his shoulder and he started, jumping a bit beneath the graze of fingertips, craning his head to see the visitor. It was U'pase, the middle child of five daughters, her exquisitely kind face framed in feathered lengths of coal black hair that caught the sunlight like fire-embued ebony.
"May I sit with you? I find this place pleasent in the evening."
Grinje balked, beginning to stand. "My Lady, I shall leave you in peace, my duties still wait for me in the li-"
"No, please stay and do not move," she commanded, her voice never raising from it's serene octave, shifting her long skirts about her to take a seat by his side. "I find no offence in your presence, Kbal'ahha Kaine."
"Kbal'ahha?" Grinje repeated, wincing as he heard his true name. He had given it in lieu of "Grinje", but it felt as a slap to the face every time it was spoken. "Forgive me, Most Beloved Daughter Tel'Tenaihe, but what does that mean?"
U'pase squealed with laughter, rocking back and clapping her hands once, twice, then bringing them to her face as she shook her head quickly, ebon hair a flurry about her face then calming with her fit. "You never learned Short Enock?"
"No, my lady, only Long. I found it far more poetic. . "
"But in Short Enock words can mean novels if said with the right infliction," U'pase protested, grinning, her face lit with emerald fire from her deep, gem eyes. "Kbal'ahha Kaine does not appriciate Zsalian poetry? Poetry is Short Enock, it is saying everything you hoped to say in "Hello" and "Goodbye". It is breathing art through your lips with every motion."
"But what does Kbal'ahha mean, my lady, or will you refuse to share?" Grinje pressed, smiling behind the veil at her exuberance, blushing deeper still at the thought of this "poetry" preceeding his name.
U'pase drew a deep breath and kicked off her sandals, watching her toes wiggle free in the air, smiling at their freedom as though her own could not be so. "Kbal'ahha," she mused, pursing her lips together to make a drawn out murmur of thought, "It means servant and then not so. Literally? The Gelt that lies in the dirt and the bed."
"Lady U'pase," Grinje whispered, touching his veil with receeding fingers, "I beg you lavish your kindness upon any number of other househands. Please, do not waste your noble heart upon one such as I."
She was standing in a moment, retrieving her shoes and moving away with a half-whimpered scoff. "It is not a waste if my heart makes it not so. You are stubborn and arrogant!" She rounded upon him, her eyes fire, "You beg for kindness in your every move and dare to wish not for it when it is given. What right have you, servant, to delegate to whom I offer my touch? None, under moon and the eye of the Gods themselves, you have none!"

In time he knew that Chain would understand what had transpired, but, it would take just that; time. Grinje sighed, meloncholy, as he perched upon the window seat in the small room. Mere feet away machines labored in their task, keeping lungs filled with air and ultimately enduring the battle of life for the unconcious man. The damage had been nearly fatal and even now he struggled, fighting for every breath forced down his throat by cruel and ungiving tubes.
It brought too many unpleasent memories to Grinje. In amazement he raised a clawed hand and wiped away a single tear spilling from a watery, green eye. He watched the morning sun glitter through the opulescant pearl til it slid from his fingertip and into oblivion.
A burst of warm breeze disturbed him from his repose, forcing his concious thought to the scene outside. Two young women were playing in the soft, tall grass, giggling wildly as they chased a large, yellow-furred beast with horns atop it's stately, feline head. A Gelt, the chosen pet of the Zsalian nobility. And the children, they too were Zsalian, the last of the Tel'Tenaihe House relocated to Thraxis IX.
"We were pretty lucky," Kuroi whispered as he approached Grinje, touching his shoulder to further alert the dangerous man of his proximity as he leaned over, gazing out the window as well. "Lucky they offered to help us."
"It is the Zsalian way, Kuroi, they would not refuse us help. It is a privilage for them to offer help, other Zsalians will respect that. But it is not charity; you give what you get, you offer a favor for another. We are their servants til the debt is paid."
Kuroi chuckled at first, but it faded with his elation into a gasp. "Servants?"
"It is worth saving Chain's life." Grinje nodded.
"You sound so sure of yourself," Kuroi countered with a sigh, rounding his gaze upon Chain lying upon the soft bed among a framework of livegiving tubes. His blue hair lay over his eyes and Grinje brought himself painfully from his seat and limped over to the bed to brush the hair aside, a brotherly love evident in his downcast eyes. Kuroi shook his head, no understanding upon his face, "Grinje, you got us into this mess."
Gringe bit his lower lip, a fang slicing into the soft skin bringing blood to his mouth. "I know that, Kuroi, but Chain would have made the same sacrifice for me or even you. I wouldn't let him die for my own happiness. Besides. . . this situation could be much worse."
He was right and even Kuroi had to admit it. Things really could have been much worse then they were, but, it was hard to think different when you were bound in chains.

"It's an escape pod, sir," Siren sighed into the phone as she traced a pink-tipped finger along the surface of the radar screen, coercing the projected path of entry. She huffed out a disgusted breath and narrowed her aquamarine jewel eyes, "No, sir, of course they don't have clearance. That's why I'm calling you, for clearance. Normally escape pods are an emergency situation, there should have been a retrieval crew up there half an hour ago."
Quickly she drew the phone from her ear, garbled shouting mingling with her soft laughter filtered by a hand folded discreetly over her mouth. Once the gentleman on the other line had ended his brief bluster she returned the phone to closer proximity, listening carefully then sighing once more, more than a bit agitated.
"Listen to me, you windbag, and you listen real close because I'm only going to say this once. There is a man stranded in an escape pod slowly descending toward our planet in need of dire assitance. He has been floating, lost, for two weeks. Maybe you've never been on an escape pod, maybe you don't even know what one is but here's something you can relate to; an escape pod only has enough supplies for twelve days. Get me clearance for a recovery crew right now."
The line went dead and slowly she eased the phone back into it's cradle. Scooting the chair along with her she returned to the headphones crackling softly, slipping them back onto her head and listening, waiting. There was soft breathing, but it was hoarse and exhausted.
"Omega, can you hear me? They're sending someone for you. ETA is half an hour."
". . thanks, dollface," was the reply, a pained one, but his voice sounded kind and welcoming. She liked it and she found herself gently blushing at the affectionate nickname.
Siren laughed as she realized her cheeks had turned a soft red, "Feeling any better?"
"Just hearing your voice makes it all better. I thought I was a goner til I heard ya, you sounded like an angel to me."
"Angel? Boy, you're spoiling me."
"For you, anything. What's your name, anyway? Unless you want me to call you angel."
"No, no, that's not necessary," she giggled, "Siren's my name."
"I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for this, Siren. When they bring me in, will I get to see you?"
She thought it over a moment, blushing harder than before. He sounded so sweet and kind, but he could be a horrible person. He wanted to thank her though; maybe she could meet him. "Well, I don't know, Omega. We'll see, alright? I'll come see you in the infirm anyway, you sound like you might need a little medical attention."
"Thanks, Siren. Thanks for talking to me, I was going crazy."
"You're welcome, Omega, you just sound like such a nice guy. I hope you get to feeling better. Looks like you're being flanked by the recovery crew, just give them your security code and I'll see you on Ursi-Luna."

* * *

"Hands above your head!" the armed guard howled, his assault rifle at the ready before him. Four other guards took similiar positions around the haggard, exhausted captive as they lead him from the tiny recovery frigate. "Keep moving! Keep moving! Don't try anything funny or you're fucked!"
Omega obeyed, holding his hands above his head and smiling to no one but himself. His hair had become a matted mess of red flecked golden and green, shaggy around his stunning emerald eyes that were obscured on occaision by milky inner lids that retracted quickly under the scrutiny of bright flashlights. With no more malice than a kitten he allowed them to rush foreward and cuff his hands together while another patted him down carefully.
As the guard ran his hands slowly over Omega's body the green-eyed man chuckled, flinching, "C'mon now, easy, easy. Lookies no touchies, baby."
"Shut up, scumbag!" came a yell from his left and he slowly raised his hands above his head once more, still chuckling but making no further comment. His clothing was dirty, hanging off his body like rags, the shirt hanging open and revealing a tight, sharply defined chest and a curious tattoo upon his lower right stomach. The phoenix raised slowly from the depths of a green crystal, black symbols scattered around it in a slow circle.
A rounded gentleman with florid features and a balding crop of black hair huffed into the room, his suit cinching around the bulge of a belly poking out before him. He slouched, sighing, rolling his watery eyes at the sight of Omega looking roguish and queer in his strange vestments and shackles. "So. . you're. . Omega Helix, huh?" he muttered, breathless from the walk.
"You're wanted in every territory but Ursi-Luna for crimes befitting execution, or something like that. I don't know, I didn't read the whole paper seeing as it really doesn't matter. There's no government left to incarcerate you and shooting you would be a waste of ammunition. Welcome to Ursi-Luna, Mr. Helix, I hope you find it to your liking. I can't say I'm impressed. Given your reputation I thought you'd be. . taller."
Omega cracked a smile as he was uncuffed and rubbed his wrists, "Well, I'm sorry I disappointed you."
"I live on Ursi-Luna, disappointment happens every day, Mr. Helix. Innoculate him, stamp him and get him the hell out of my sight."
In a matter of minutes it was over; the shot in his right arm stung, but not as bad as the unsightly brand on the back of his left shoulder, the letters U and L surrounded by a circle. Already he could feel the purging innoculate filtering through his system, calming him, soothing the frantic rush to his heart as they sent him through the doors into the dust, sand and heat.
Like a shadow he left them, blending into the bleary existance, no more than another ragged shape moving among so many others through the dead warmth of three suns.

Ekart's Drop was no place for a lady, but Merilyn braved the darkness of the hot, smoke-clouded bar as the Ursi-Lunan night set in. It was unbearable in heat to those unused to such an unforgiving climate and one could always tell the Lunans from the Outsiders. She mused it was probably the tough lock to her jaw and the absence of sweat trickling down her brow that kept most of the miscreants from her; a woman who could survive on Ursi-Luna wasn't the type you wanted to pick a fight with.
It was slow business tonight, but she could wait. The first proposition to float her way would be hers, anything to get off of this dead rock. She slipped a hand into her breast pocket and withdrew a cooling menthol cigarette, placed it between pursed lips and let the barkeeper light it for her; she gave him a flutter of her long lashes and a half-smile around the filter winning her another drink.
The band was getting started, slowly, and she knew most of the members were probably intoxicated. Drinking started early around here. If you weren't a miner in the cold diamond pits below you worked in one of the establishments; a waitress, a bartender, a receptionist if you were lucky. If you were a woman and you had no ambitions, no skills and no money to start yourself a life you were a prostitute or a thief. Merilyn nodded to a couple of young women working the crowd; they lived both lives, stealing when their bodies wouldn't bring the price the street clans demanded for their safety.
Slowly the doors knocked open and a rougish pair of Outsiders stumbled down the steps, arms around eachother's shoulders, laughing.

* * *

"I haven't been on Ursi-Luna for years," Shadow exclaimed as he took a seat at the bar, Miles climbing onto the stool to his left. "This shithole never, ever changes. I heard Grinje didn't even come for it; would have been a blessing, probably."
Miles ordered a pair of drinks and rested his head upon his folded arms, watching Shadow through curls of copper hair. "Yeah. .?" He yawned, lazy, tired of the long haul and knowing it wasn't half over. "Yeah, shit. . I'm too tired for this. Thanks," he muttered to the bartender who set the drinks before them, nodding to them briefly and moving down the bar in a taciturn hustle.
Shadow turned his back to the bar and leaned against it, sipping from the chilled glass and watching the slow motion of people made sluggish by the heat. It was hot, unbelievably so, and he could barely fathom how so many could wear heavy miner's uniforms and hats, faces dusted with carbon, eyes sullen and low. "You say that whenever we pull into port, you're always tired. What's your problem?"
"Maybe it's running double shifts with no one to keep me company, except for you."
"I'm brilliant company."
"Brilliant my orange, fuzzy ass. Lets just get this done."
Shadow moved a hand into his jacket pocket and produced a slim, blue plastic card with a chip embedded in the center. Currancy, credits, and there were plenty of them. He handed the card over to Miles who in turn kicked off of his seat, swiftly parting the crowd to a table. Shadow followed close behind and in unison they climbed upon a single table, causing a ruckus and eyes turning slow and wide to their insane stance, together, holding the blue card on high.
"This is fourteen thousand credits," Miles exclaimed, "and it goes to the bravest, most suicidal man among you. Right now it's yours, but we leave this minute, no questions asked to Mobius. Any takers?"
There was a mumble among the crowd which quietly turned away and for a moment Miles and Shadow contemplated stepping down; after all they were gathering angry glares from the tenants of the table itself. But a voice stilled them, a strong, but distinctly femanine voice as the crowd parted to allow her through.
She was short and stocky in the shoulders, strong and firm in look but with an elegant poise to her snowy, white features. Silver-white hair erupted in tight, frenzied curls from a ponytail band at the base of her neck and a few strands of the tight ringlets spilled from it, framing her sweet, freckled visage, deep set aquamarine eyes glowing behind a pair of glasses repaired with tape over the bridge of the nose. "I'll go with you. No questions asked."
Shadow hestitated, but Miles pulled him bodily from the table toward the young woman with all her worldly posessions hanging from a duffel off her right shoulder. "I'm not so sure about this," he muttered to Miles who quieted him with a hiss.
"Nice to have you aboard," a the moon-eyed man whispered, taking Merilyn's hands in his own and shaking them slowly. "My name is Miles, this is. . Shadow. And you are?"
"Merilyn is my name, thank you. Lets go? The sooner I'm off this rock the better."
Shadow interjected, taking Merilyn's arm and leading her toward the exit as Miles followed, a hand over his heart as though he had been stricken.

Merilyn took the picture from beside the bed and held it close to her eyes for inspection; without her glasses she couldn't focus well enough at much of a distance. In the image she sat with her arms around her sister, the two smiling enthusiastically at the cameraman, waving. They couldn't have been more than twelve at the time, happy, dreaming of better lives than this.
"I wish you wouldn't leave," Siren sighed as she approached her sister, resting her forehead against the shorter girl's shoulder. "It's going to be really lonely without you, sissy, you know?"
Merilyn closed her aquamarine eyes as she stuffed the framed picture into the old duffel teetering at the edge of the bed, sighing dramatically and turning to face her twin sister. Siren was taller, slimmer and far more svelte with a sharply attractive face and cascading locks of silver-white hair that was envied by every other girl in their compound. Deep, doe's eyes peered out from between soft bangs and golden bangles adorned her snow-white, swan's neck as she stared down at her sister, half-smiling, tears shining at the corners of her eyes like decorative crystals. Merilyn was squarer in the shoulders, thicker in the hips and far less elegant; her hair had been prone to frazzling instead of flowing and often sat, as it did now, in a tight ponytail at the base of her neck. "Siren, you know I can't stay," she offered softly, adjusting her glasses with a forefinger and shuffling the buttons upon the front of her heavy green-grey canvas jacket. "I'll write."
"Well, you had better. I'm going to miss you so much, Merilyn, so don't you dare forget me here." Siren fussed as she smoothed her sister's part with her fingers and brushed her cool hands over the freckles dusting the shorter twin's cheeks, kissing each cheek and watching her shuffle out the door with the duffle slung over one shoulder.
Ursi-Luna Cyport wasn't any place for a pair of sweet, young women, but the two had managed on their own for many years. Despite living in a bad part of the port, working in horrid conditions and fighting for every cent they had ever made the two had prevailed, but together. Merilyn had always aspired to a certain life; travel, excitement, adventure. Always being the stronger, more outgoing of the two Siren had consigned herself to this day; it would come one way or another, but there was a cold feeling deep within.
But, work wouldn't wait for the feeling to pass and so with a shuddering sigh she buttoned up her own uniform jacket and left the tiny apartment. The door clicked shut with the turn of a key and she was out, moving, briskly jogging down a filthy sidewalk on the wrong side of town in the heat of a trio of hot blue suns. Shadows wriggled uncomfortably where there was enough darkness to be had to produce them, the air steamed and breath came hard when it did come. Many of the less adapted and better off wore masks; Siren afforded herself no such luxury and her lungs were strong, powerful, deep and young. Her body would carry her where she needed to go.
When others were sleeping Siren was awake, watching and ever alert. Her job was simple, but tedious, she listened for a living. Not to others, but to the stars, the song of the stars and the faint crackle of transmission when one was recieved. Since Ursi-Luna accepted landings on the opposite side of the small moon she rarely did much but sit and listen and play chess with the computer.
Tonight, if one could call it night when there was always a sun in sight, chess held no mystery for her. Occaisionally she would make a move, bad moves at that, while the computer heckled her for her silence and inactivity.
"Make-a-move-I-haven't-got-all-day."
Siren sighed, disgusted, "You're a computer, you've got all the time in the world." Beyond her the radar blipped, picking up a tiny pinpoint of red on a field of black. "Don't give me your additude, I know where your power switch is."
"Wiggle-my-switch. . . baby. Seriously. Make-a-move-before-I-rust." The computer's voice was a strong, harsh buzz that Siren wasted no time in turning to mute though obsceneties occaisionally obscured her view as green symbols upon the bleak screen.
"I don't know what people were thinking when they decided computers should talk. Hello. ." Aquamarine eyes found the blip at last, staring at the tiny dot with curiosity moving too slow to be a frieghter and too tiny to be anything but the smallest of craft. "It can't be a meteor, there's no activity east of Marker Six. ." she thought aloud, swiveling in her chair toward the radio and plugging in a pair of oversized earphones, static crackling into her sensitive ears then receeding to a soft buzz.
"This is Ursi-Luna Cyport Marker Eight. Is anyone out there?"
Silence, and then a soft, aching voice.
". . please talk to me."
"This is Ursi-Luna Cyport Marker Eight. Identify yourself, are you in need of assistance?"
A laugh, a painful laugh as though it were interrupted by tears and a hacking cough. "Just talk to me, please, I just need to hear another voice."
"Alright, please calm down. What is your name? Your ship? Can you give me a signature so we can send you assitance?"
"Omega. My name is. . Omega."

Kuroi settled into the warm, forming confines of the navigator's seat upon the bridge, smiling smugly, watching the stars shimmer in a semi-sphere of light around him. The smell of coffee startled him and he turned his head, watching Grinje bow through the low doorway onto the bridge and offer him a mug of the dark, hot liquid.
"I thought you might want some," he said politely, half-smiling if you could tell it around the pair of fangs protruding over his lower lip like a snake's. His skin was a snow white plain that quivered in annoyance at Kuroi's inspection, surrounding dark amythest eyes set in a sleek, lycanthropic face. Alert ears flickered among the matted, dreadlocked mess of green and white hair that fell in clean, but unkempt masses over his shoulders.
Kuroi accepted the cup and held it between his hands, swallowing hard as he took in this creature sitting a few feet to his left. It was Grinje. Grinje, the "destroyer" of Mobius offering him coffee as casually as any friend might have. "You know, this position is a little awkward. . Grinje. . or do you want me to call you something else? I. ."
"Grinje is fine. Don't. . pity me."
"You didn't do it to yourself though, did you? That isn't really fair. . you don't seem so bad."
He listened, cocking his head to the side in thought, lips parted slightly. "Well, you see, there's no point in fighting anymore," he replied at length, giving a low sigh of dejection and falling back into the seat, sinking just a little deeper. "I'm here on a ship with two of my childhood friends who are both, despite admonisions that they are not, trying to help me, understanding me as much as they can manage. . . of course, Chain understands more than he lets on, he's found playing the idiot is practical. I have no reason to complain or to fight it anymore. I am what I am and here I am. . accepted as something. So are you.
"I tried fighting them. I tried telling them I just wanted to die there, that I'd feel better if I could just drift away or hide like a hermit, but neither of them will let me. Chain feels he owes a duty to me as his charge and he loves me, he can't say it, but he does. He can tell Omega that, but, Omega needs to hear it like I don't. It's a different love anyway because I doubt, in all the realms, there is woman, man or beast who could love what I have become."
Kuroi listened in silence, sipping the dark liquid as the gentle movement of the stars numbed him. Feeling bad, deep inside, like his heart was being ripped out just listening to Grinje tell it like it was. . . no one could ever love him. "Even if they fixed you up, made you. . better? You know?"
"I hold no hope this feat is possible."
"Alright, well, we'll see. Anything's possible, that's what my father used to tell me."
They sat together in silence as many minutes passed by, just watching the purpetual motion of starlight and listening to the thrum of engines that vibrated through the cold walls.
"I wonder what those two are doing," Grinje muttered after some time and leaned over the controls before him, flicking switches with long, oddly curved fingers terminating in claw-like nails. Various cameras throughout the ship displayed their views on the screen hanging pendulous above them. Grinje sighed in annoyance as his screens came up blank. "Probably in their rooms. I can't even spy on them when I want to."
"Did you try the loading bay?"
"No, why. .?" Kuroi reached over Grinje, touching a button that prompted a panoramic view of the loading bay where the little escape pod sat next to two others in silence. Omega stepped into view with a large pack slung over his shoulder, creeping along quietly toward the smaller of the three pods. The door opened, hissing hydrolic pressure as the onramp unfolded. Omega quickly boarded the small pod just as Chain slipped out of the shadows, slinking from behind a stack of broken crates.
"Busted," Grinje chuckled, "Omega, you know you can't escape us like that."

* * *

"Chain, just get out of here," Omega snarled as he hopped off the boarding ramp gripping a pistol tight in his hand. It looked dangerous; Omega never fooled around with unloaded guns, but Chain reached for his arm anyway. Omega slid closer, pressing the cold steel to Chain's neck just below his jaw, cocking the bullet into the chamber as an added warning. "I am not going to stay here, I can't, I'm going crazy and when I go crazy. . . I do bad things. I would hate to do something ugly to you."
Chain cocked his head to the side, hissing at the chill of the metal, half-closing violet orbs that stared at the cieling. "Please don't leave," he replied and was rewarded by another very angry snarl from the red-haired man before him. "We're almost to Thraxis, we'll be there tomorrow, I swear it. You can stay calm til then, can't you? Let me help you, Omega."
Omega faltered with the weapon, lowering to his side and letting it dangle rather weakly from his fingertips. "You don't understand, Chain. Right now all I can think about is killing you and it is taking all the willpower in my body not to do it." His voice remained cold and calm, but there was a wavering quality to the tone and a bead of sweat sliding from his temple to his jaw was indication of the battle within.
"Okay, I understand," the taller man whispered as he slid the duster off one shoulder, moving his head to the side and giving Omega a decent view of his neck and the scars. Deep, puckered scar tissue that must have been prior to the Zsalian recombancy, prior to the end of physical reminders of failure. "So bite me, you can have my blood if it will help. It isn't as though you haven't done it before. ."
"I'd rather shoot you," Omega snarled, raising the gun again, taking aim with a shaky hand.
"Then do it, Omega, because I'm not letting you leave."
Omega closed his eyes, seeming to mull the thought over in his mind for a moment then stepping closer. Chain slipped an arm around him and he rested his head against the man's chest, listening to his heartbeat and the deep rumble of powerful lungs. Green eyes shielded by the milky, reptilian second lid turned upward, gazing at Chain's face while he pressed a light kiss to his jaw. "I'm sorry," Omega whispered as the gun fired, a bullet searing through Chain's stomach, exiting through his back as a beautiful display of crimson glittered over the metal tile.
He seemed to hang suspended there for a second as the reality hit him and then, only then, did Chain topple to his knees, clutching the wound in eerie silence. "I'm sorry," Omega whispered again, "but I just can't do this." He reached for Chain's face, cupping his cheek in one hand and brushing the hair from his eyes as a trickle of disbelieving blood poured from the corner of parted, breathless lips.
"If you live through this I know you'll understand. You can't change me."
Omega turned away, shaking all over, knowing he couldn't turn back now that he had gone so far. Chain might live he told himself and with that in mind he fired up the engines and began to maneuver the pod toward the bay doors, opening slowly for his departure.

"You don't really mean it, do you?" Kuroi asked, flabbergasted, orange eyes wide with the shock of it all as Miles set his bags down on the cold floor beside his feet. "You said the escape pod wasn't even space tested yet, guys. Guys!"
The door was closing; he fumbled at the metal discs as they slid into place but it was to no avail. Through the viewport he saw Miles and Shadow, laughing, working the controls on the ejection pad. In anger Kuroi did all he could think to do; he pounded on the door, hollared, bellowed for them to let him go. Releases clicked beneath his feet as the hydrolic docking system let go of the spherical pod. Sirens wailed their klaxon tone and red lights flashed; space appeared before his eyes through the semi-spherical viewing pane and the artificial gravity gave way to zero-G. Suspended in the air he floated for the single seat, strapped himself in and manipulated the controls with great care lest they prove their lack of reliability.
Onboard the small frigate Shadow was readying the hyperdrive. Miles took his seat and clicked his five-point harness into place with a chuckle, "That was a good idea."
"Wasn't it?" the dark-haired man replied as he stood on his toes, flicking switches on the cieling-mounted panel, a blue sprig of hair near the front of his crop of wild locks bouncing comically. He wiggled his hips and hummed something beneath his breath, happy, a spark in his eyes.
Miles was relieved by the amicable change in his best friend. A few months, a change of pace, the loss of that leech and they were home free. He brushed the curly orange hair from his topaz eyes with a sigh. "Where to?"
"Mobius, back home. We load up and ship out."
"We'll need a third. SilverTails, maybe? Claws?"
"You know they all retired," was Shadow's reply as the ship's hyperdrive began to warm, a chirring sound revving from all around them. "No more, they've got no guts. I say we stop on Ursi-Luna Cyport, there are plenty of scabs looking for a cut down there and this is easy, quick business."

* * *

Grinje was the first to notice the tiny red blip on the radar and was quick to race toward the commonrooms to share his discovery. With all the triumph of a hero he burst into the galley, finding Omega engauged in watching a static-strewn transmission, probably from a Terran system. ". . what's that?"
"I don't know, I can't understand a thing they're saying. But that girl," Omega followed this with a low whistle and turned about in his seat, cocking a brow at Grinje. "Grinje, I know you're feeling like a fish out of water and I just want you to know that as soon as we get to Thraxis we're going to find help for you. For the. ."
"Instability?" Grinje rolled his eyes and leaned against the cool countertop, tracing a long-nailed finger across the blue, mottled skin of a fruit. "Yeah, you and Chain, you think you can fix me. You really think so?"
"No, but, the food's not bad and I'm enjoying the company."
Chain sauntered into the room carrying a five gallon jug slung over one shoulder. The contents sloshed and bubbled a murky amber color, the plastic container swelling at the seams with the gasseous excretions. With a groan he lowered it earthward, settling the jug on the floor between his feet. A flick of a lighter later and he was smoking casually upon a cigarette, the smell of synthetic tobacco weed filling the air.
"That's it? You did it?"
Grinje rolled his eyes as Omega ran to the cupboards, tossing about for a few glasses while Chain chuckled. "Yes, you're such a genius, what is it? Some kind of poison? Kill Grinje?"
Chain extracted his cigarette and handed it to Omega who tucked it into his mouth, taking a long drag while Chain filled the glasses. "It's beer," Omega muttered as he lifted up the first glass examining the murkiness, the bubbles and the soft foam cresting the top. "Bottoms up?"
"Maybe this isn't the best time to intrude, but there's a ship coming up fast portside, probably two thousand meters away now," Grinje interjected as both Chain and Omega winced, swallowing the cold substance that they found had absolutely no resemblance to beer. Chain recovered quickly, setting a half-finished glass aside and listening as Grinje pointed excitedly to the door erstwhile pounding a flat hand against Omega's back, forcing the cross-eyed recombant to swallow and make room for air in his screaming lungs.

* * *

"This is Escape Pod Alpha-Delta-One-Two-Zero-Two-Niner hailing RMA M.V. Saritona. Do you read me, Saritona? This is Escape Pod Alpha-Delta-One-Two-Zero-Two-Niner requesting assistance, do you read?"
Grinje blinked several times, fluttering lashes and listening to the plea requested one, two, finally eight times over. Omega and Chain were poised a few feet away listening as well, but less intrigued by the entire affair, directing the computer into recovery. "You think we really ought to pick it up?"
"Well, I'm hungry," Omega reassured Grinje, "And whoever it is has to taste better then our cooking."

* * *

Safely seated in the recovery bay of the friendly RMA Merchant Kuroi relaxed and watched the bay doors open through the pod windows. Surely it was a comforting sight; picked up by none other than his own people and certainly in good hands.
He quickly undid his belt and engauged the door, clearing the steps in one bound and heading for the doors rolling upward with a most aggrivating slowness. Hands in pockets he peered through the crack appearing, widening, a hallway coming into view. . .
. . . and the business end of Omega's assault rifle.
"What sort of bad luck is this, huh? God must really fucking hate me," Kuroi exclaimed as he backed away, tugging at turquoise hair and clenching his teeth as Omega stepped into view.

Approximately 2000 years ago
* A group of rebel Zsalians are exiled to the planet Florith IV. They merge with the indigenous lifeforms to become the first Aristans.
* Dissent among the Zsalian empire begins tearing it apart from within. Civil war becomes rampant in outer colonies.

Approximately 1500 years ago
* On the small planet Mobius a group of nine representatives from respective nations form the Pact of Tribes. By ancient rite their power is sealed away in seven objects of power to be retrieved in another time of need.
* Zsalian emperial rule continues a steady decline. Unrest and sucession from the empire by numerous colonies causes drastic material shortages.

Approximately 80 to 50 years ago
* A'kital Zsalgadorn and Novis Terminus are born under the last Matriarchal Regime of the Zsalian Empire as half-brothers.
* The Zsalgadorn Mistress falls ill, A'kital sits at the council in her stead catching the eye of the young Empress.

30 years ago
* Project: Redbird is unveiled as a breakthrough in modern genetics research. Four prototype soldiers are created; Model 16-72C Chain Gun, Model 44-7A Omega Helix and Models 13-32A and B, Arquillia and Kain who adopt Redbird as their sole surname.
* Florith IV begins production of an interstellar fleet. Minor skirmishes between the Zsalian empire and Aristan commonwealth begin.

23 years ago
* Kaine Redbird assaults and kills four RMA officers for sexually assaulting his twin sister. He is sent to a private research facility where he is inducted into an experimental procedure known as The Skyrim Project below the small town Celenarin. Built of unstable, but overpowered genetic code Kaine adopts the moniker "Grinje", the name of the toxic serum used to keep his mutant DNA in check. The Celenarin Facility is devistated; Kaine escapes to a nearby mining colony.
* The other models of Project: Redbird are put into stasis pending recombant research.

10 years ago
* Project: Redbird is reinstated to combat the forces of Grinje and his small, but mobile fleet of ships created from designs pilfered from the Celenarin Facility.
* Arquilia is lost on planet Thraxis VII. She is listed in the RMA databanks as KIA.
* The city Celenarin is destroyed, as is most of the planet Mobius. Those who escape flee to nearby colony systems.

5 years ago
* The smuggling outfit known only by the symbol D*C gain popularity after recruiting several extra members; an amnesiac fighter known as Arquillia, an ex-RMA soldier named Miles Coran and a brilliant tactician, Arthur Santega.
* Arthur Santega leaves the Pact of Tribes, a fraternal organization dedicated to the preservation of the seven artifacts. With the covert help of D*C he assembles six of the nine required for the ritual.

1 year ago
* Omega Helix joins Grinje as an operative of the Pact of Tribes.
* The Zsalian Empire retaliates against the Aristans in force, sending agent Novis Terminus to Florith IV to retrieve information.

Recent History
* Kuroi, a member of Project: Spectre, the predecessor of Redbird joins D*C. Seven down, two to go.
* Chain Gun, with the betrayer Omega Helix are enlisted by the last of the Mobian Rebellion.
* With Grinje's help the Aristan Empire lays waste to Eridis, home planet of the Zsalian Empire, striking the killing blow. In force they advance upon Mobius, intent upon capturing the seven artifacts for their own uses.
* The members of D*C assemble to perform the ritual as Aristan, Zsalian and Grinje's forces collide in the sky above Mobius.

*huff huff* A timeline, deal with it.

As the Zsalian cruiser faded out of hyperspace the crew realized two things. One, there was a fleet of Aristan fighters backed by a large, insidious looking warship waiting for them. Two, their powercells were depleted beyond normal conditions and there would be no last-moment leap to hyperspace. The captain tugged on his collar uncomfortably as a hail was sent and flickered onto the screen, obscuring the scene of fighters waiting in uncannily perfect formation in the distance.
"Suja'ku!" cried the navigator who tried to reel from his seat; maybe he thought shielding his eyes would make it not so. The captain cleared his throat hard as he gazed at the goggled, grim face and the coif of flighty silver-tipped hair.
"Th-this is ZSA Cruiser Cantata. I am Captain Emrys."
"Thank you for your cordial responce, Captain Emrys. This is Suja'ku of the Gearfalcon, but I fancy you know that already. You have entered an Aristan interstellar transport route and have ten minutes to evacuate into hyperspace. I will accept no excuses, Captain."
Emrys took a deep, heavy breath at the hushed terror upon the bridge. "Sir. . our hyperspace engine has malfunctioned leading us to this erronious pause. Ten minutes will not be adequate to repair. ."
"No excuses, Captain Emrys."
"But. . you must listen!"
Suja'ku nodded his head, "As you listened to my people? I shall."
The transmission ended, but the Aristan ships remained in que. They floated together in tight formation, wing-to-wing and Emrys knew they would wait. . they would wait exactly ten minutes and then. .
"Ready all flight-trained men, to their postions!"
An electronic, wailing klaxon alarm rang through the barracks with the pulse of red light and silver strobe. Soldiers suited up and ran to their fighters, unaware, ready for anything and tired. Engines roared to life and signal-flags of orange glow waved in semiphore to the waiting fighters as the moved in diamond formation for the airlock doors and into the vast coldness of space.

* * *

Suja'ku hovered his craft at point position as he listened to the flow of thought through his cerebral cortex. It was soothing, a calming rush of ebbing wave that he responded to, pulsed with and rebounded like a bat seeking prey via echolocation. As one organism the ships banked right, flanking the injured cruiser as a silver-fish glimmer of approaching opposition caught his eye.
There was a click inside his headset and a woman's voice, a cry of anguish, "Suja'ku! Please! Please stop it, back off, leave them alone! They c-can't do anything!"
Arquillia.
He swallowed hard and hovered a finger over the end transmission button as she pleaded. She was in tears, he knew she must be, he could feel her pain and it showed in the falter of the formation as one ship edged lower than the rest. The connection breaking apart in his uncertainty.
"Please! I'll do anything, just stop, please stop. . " Her voice was becoming hoarse, rough and shuddering. Sobbing probably; he caught a painful image in his head of her bent over the communication's panel in her bandages and infirmiry gown, tears flowing onto the buttons and obsidian surface of the intricate bank.
"Sir." The voice was harsh and pleading, battling with the pain of the wounded animal sounds. "Sir, they are moving into defensive positions. We require an order, sir!"
Suja'ku moaned and rolled his eyes back, thinking, wishing he could buy just another minute of thought. Then his voice hardened and he spoke to her, his voice a smooth bark over the intercom, blaring forth into the ship. "I will not stop. I will not be the better person. I will not show them mercy when they showed my people none. If our roles were reversed we would already be dead.
"We are Aristan and we are proud. We have something to fight for! Our way of life, our peace. . all we want is peace. Isn't that worth fighting for? Killing for? I will not stop, not til the life is taken from my body will I stop. I am doing this for my children, for OUR children! For our future and for our land, our bloodright, our peace! I care not if each and every Zsalian stands before us, I will not stop!"

Omega hauled the body over to Grinje, minding not that it was the crushed and faceless corpse of his former lover. Grinje was in pain, writhing beneath Chain's restraint, mouth open in tormented wheezing sighs. With the flick of his knife blood poured into that gaping orifice, sliding down Grinje's throat and as he began to understand the nature of this gift the mangled mobian suckled upon the dead girl's neck, partaking of the cooling blood eagerly. Warm, comforted purrs eased from a thick, grated throat and Chain cooed, stroking Grinje's matted hair back.
"It's alright, Kaine, you're going to be fine."
"Call him Grinje, Kaine's dead you idiot," Omega quipped before rushing away to fetch another body, this one still fighting for life. The knife was equally merciless and Grinje accepted hotter fluid, moaning now with more strength. "I wouldn't be so nice, he will kill you, Chain."
Chain was unconvincable and once Grinje had finished his meal he hoisted the man into his lap, rocking him. Grinje whimpered and butted his face against Chain's jaw, tears pouring from insectile eyes that were no longer Mobian. There wasn't much about him that was still Mobian and without his robes he was doubly hideous, coated in protrusions of spines, joints bent and tweaked painfully. If there was still any honest strength in his body it was not evident in muscle; his body looked atrophied. "It's alright, soldier, we'll get you back home."
Grinje smiled as Chain picked him up, carrying him away from the ruins, his hot bloody breath escaping upon the blue-furred hybrid's neck in patterns of carmine vapor. Omega alone understood exactly what would transpire and he kept his mouth shut; as long as Chain thought he was in charge he'd go to the ends of the earth for the both of them. That kind of loyalty couldn't be bought.