Part 6

Knight and Knight-Errant

           We waited half an hour for Kjistha to arrive. "God, I can't [believe?] he's so late. I feel so [ ]. He wants me so badly he waits," Amara had growled in complaint. At our request the only others there were Jaurn, Naia, Eshera, and Kaihdu, the larger male pilot. Tenuran hadn't a clue what was going on, but was content to talk to Ayo, who had agreed to tie Tenuran up as long as was needed. Naia and Eshera were faking simulator training while they eavesdropped on the bar. Jaurn conversed in one of the corner booths with Kaihdu while she kept her gun trained on the doors. Everything was set, but I knew full well that they couldn't help me as long as Kjistha acted within Hrasi law.
           Near the end of the hour he barged in, ears flat and pointed face taught. With visibly restrained annoyance he stalked over to Amara.
           "You [interrupted? / disrupted?] my day. I will keep you late tonight for your [insolence?]. I should make you come to my cabin yourself, but you might be [ ]. You are such a stupid [ ], you know."
           "Wait!" I called to them both, slamming my hand down on Amara's paw as she feigned a rise from her seat, "Officer Kjistha. I have a proposition for you." Naia'd shown me some 'wagering' vocabulary earlier so that I could properly 'lean' on him. "I think you will find it appealing." He snorted haughtily.
           "What, human? Will you give her to me as a slave? That's all you could offer."
           "Maybe." I sat back on my stool. "She is mine. Perhaps we can arrange a trade? Have a glass of Kajo with me; I have found it to my liking." Amara swiveled her head in utter shock, and I could see that it wasn't all for dramatic effect. The very thought must have disturbed her.
           "Kajo? A human with [taste?]? Amazing. But you cannot give me Amara, and even if you could you would not." It was my turn to laugh as I pulled a pair of glasses and filled them near the brim.
           "No, I can." Very carefully I handed Kjistha the drink, then downed some of my own and scratched Amara under the neck. "She is mine. Mine to hurt, mine to kill, mine to... you know. If you want her and I want what you can offer, we might trade." Kjistha smiled grimly, gulped the entire kajo glass in a single gulp, and hissed.
           "Do not [ ] me. What are the [terms?] you would [propose?]?" I smirked, then set my glass down.
           "The terms." Now I tried to remember the medical vocabulary Naia tried to tell me. "The terms are these: you leave, forget we ever existed, and you live."
           "Is that a [threat?]?" Kjistha sneered.
           "There were nanobots in that Kajo. They will kill you if Amara or I leave this ship or if a certain amount of time passes. I will give you the antidote before they kill you, but only if you stay far from us. And remember, Amara is mine." To my surprise and distress he threw his head back and chuffed.
           "I don't believe you at all. You're a fool." Kjistha fixed me with a menacing smile. "Why don't I arrest the two of you and then kill you in [ ]? The ship's medical staff can [eliminate?] the nanobots if they're real." I fished one of Ayo's body scanners from my pocket and pushed it across the counter.
           "They're real, and they will attack if either of us dies or someone tries to remove them. They can be quite deadly." Kjistha picked up the scanner, lazily flicked it to life, and ran it up his chest. Projected on the counter was the result: tiny silver dots lined the image of his lungs and throat.
           "How [ ] of you. Well, I will [check in?] with the medical staff to [determine?] if they are dangerous. I will also leave a [ ] for security to arrest you if I die. You will be hearing from me again, human." Amara's paw tensed under my hand, making me squeeze back reassuringly.
           Slowly Kjistha rose from his place, giving Amara a nasty look. "How are your wounds? Did you tell him just how you got them? You really shouldn't [ ] so much. You'll [displease?] your master." Amara just stared death back at him. He gave her a flick of the ears, then calmly sauntered from the room. Amara let out a pent up breath. I watched her pert face as it slackened to exhaustion.
           "Khos Ahrn, that will not [last?]. In a week he will be back and we will be dead."
           "I'll be ready in a week. I'll be healed." I got a look from her as though she wanted to say something, but wouldn't.
           "I... Yes, Khos Ahrn." Furry bodies surrounded us. Everyone had something to say.
           "How? That was amazing..."
           "Pretty good, Ahrn."
           "That can't [last?] long."
           "Aaron, that isn't going to work."
           "[ ]!" Amara yelled. "Please. No more talking. My head hurts. Please..." An immediate shuffling of bodies took place.
           "Hai, food," Jaurn agreed. "Naia, Eshera, it's your [turn?]." They sighed in unison, then jumped to my side of the counter and began opening up cabinets. "Ahrn. Good." While Amara buried her face in my arms Jaurn sat beside me. "That was [ ]. It won't work long, though. We're here for another [ ]."
           "Three weeks," Naia translated in English from the corner. "Jaurn's right, Aaron. Clever of you, but I don't think it'll keep the security chief occupied very long."
           "Trust me, it will," I countered in Hrasi, "He's a fool who doesn't want to die."
           "Hope you're right," Amara mumbled. I looked down to see her staring up at me. "Khos Ahrn... I don't want you hurt..."
           "I'll be fine. Stop worrying!" I gently insisted. Amara smiled at me wanly and bobbed her head. From the corner Naia chuffed at the roomful of Hrasi poking their heads out from the double doors.
           "Hey you fools. We've got food here!" The crowd immediately headed for her.
           Dinner that night was conducted in silence for Amara and I. She led me to one of the lounge booths after Naia gave us our meal: some cinnamon-tasting vegetables and slightly bitter meat. For some reason Amara wanted to be alone; she seemed to bristle when anyone came near us. When we were done Amara silently led me back to the counter to turn in our silverware, then took me back to the cabin. By then the pain in my chest and legs when I walked had mostly subsided; those nanobots were beginning to do their job, or perhaps the painkillers had kicked in.
           When Amara slid open the door she ducked inside without comment. As I followed her I was surprised that our room no longer reeked of liquor and bile.
           "The room doesn't smell. Did you... fix that?" She turned around and perked her ears forward.
           "Yes, khos Ahrn. I [cleaned?] it after Maura left." With a wrinkle of her brow and a tilt of the head she questioned me softly. "Did you really ask her to sleep with me?"
           "She wanted to. I only said she could. Did you not want me to?"
           "...it was [ ]. I said some [ ] I didn't [ ]. I think she did too. She does not [approve of?] you or Kjistha being here. It's hard, Ahrn." Without immediately answering I turned to close our cabin door.
           "I'm sorry, Amara, really I am. I thought it would be good for you." From behind my back there was some rustling, and when I looked back at her Amara was dropping her unzipped flight jacket on the ground.
           "It's not a problem, khos Ahrn. We just need sleep. It'll be better in the morning."
           "You're not mad at me?" I asked, surprised. Amara stared at the floor while she stripped.
           "You are my lord. I cannot [ ] anger with you." With a thin smirk she slowed down her movements. "I suppose [ ] [ ] a man you want to see this? Would you [ ] [ ] to see me?" With a sigh I began carefully undoing the buttons on my uniform.
           "Amara, Amara, Amara. I'd rather just sleep with you. You do look beautiful, though."
           "In [ ] [ ] I'd be happy to [ ] you." I missed whatever she was saying, but took the comment in stride. She finished before I did, but I waved her away when she tried to help me undress.
           "I know how to do it, thank you." That got me a shadow of a glare from her, as though she felt put off. So maybe I was denying her some knightly privilege. My heart bled for her, but I'd only sink so low.
           I stepped out of my clothes, taking my time, then pushed up into the bed and slipped between the sheets. They were silken on my skin, softer than everything except Amara, who clambered in beside me and curled into the crook of my arm. Already I was drifting off, but Amara stopped that in her tracks. Playfully she bit me on the neck. She nipped lightly enough not to break the skin or bruise me, but it served to wake me up.
           "If you want to..."
           "Amara, you're my knight. I can't; it wouldn't be right." She blinked softly with her large, glowing eyes and twitched an ear silently. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "But I wish I could." She smiled and kissed me back. I think that was the first time she'd voluntarily done so: later she admitted that it was something that she'd never personally enjoyed, and only did it because I liked to. For a few minutes we just lay in bed and just held one another.
           "You sure?" She questioned softly.
           "Amara," I warned, rolling her under me, "I said no." She only murred and chuffed, squirming under my bulk. Chuckling softly, I massaged out the knots of tensed muscles and fur in her back, shoulder blades, and neck. Once she'd lapsed into deep rumbling purrs I pulled her close and kissed her neck softly. A sleeping Hrasi is like a cross between a huge teddy bear and an electric blanket. Holding her made me feel like a little kid, but it only took me a few minutes to follow her into slumber.
          

---v---

           Turns out Naia, Jaurn and Amara were all totally off the mark. Three weeks passed and there was absolutely no sign or hint of Kjistha. Apparently I'd frightened the hell out of him.
           That was just fine with me: my days were packed all the time anyway. In the mornings after showering I helped whoever's turn it was to make morning meal, then tended the bar or cleaned out the lounge and shower rooms. Afterwards I similarly helped with lunch, then Naia tutored me on Hrasi language, culture, and history while helping me with my bartending and cleaning duty. My grasp of the Hrasi language expanded several times over, as did my understanding of their society. Each day our classes ended with the making of dinner, whereupon everyone entered the nightly tournament before Amara and I retired to our beds.
           Our arrival that first day had greatly interrupted the nightly tournament schedule, but it picked back up again once I'd settled into the pilot's lives. The tournament was one of flying, conducted via the simulators. Originally started by Tenuran to keep the pilots skills up, it'd evolved into an alcohol-consuming, ego-gratifying competition when Jaurn got into the act. In three weeks I hadn't seen a single pilot leave to get into a ship and go on a mission, so it seemed prudent to have such training. What I didn't expect was for Tenuran to ask me to join in. I was only too happy to oblige.
           The first five days I took first place by far - Amara refused to fly against me and I respected that - so they ended up ganging against me in the final tournament rounds. When she saw that I couldn't survive against Tenuran and Jaurn and Naia, Amara was only too happy to join me as a wingman. Even Maura, who was slowly but surely warming up to me, would occasionally enter into the tournament. Amara must have rubbed off on her, because she was a decent pilot too.
           Nobody was comfortable with Amara. From what I could tell they had all respected her for her skill as a pilot, and nobody could stand seeing her bow in my presence. I agreed, but Amara did not, and among us only her vote really counted. While she didn't go out of her way to act submissively in front of our peers, every time she said khos before my name I could see my relationships with the others strain. Alone we were much closer, but I still kept her at arm's length. Fortunately, she was content with not being seriously intimate.
           Tenuran kept at me to train her pilots. Naturally I refused, but it was harder to say no to the thirty-odd young women who came up to me with near-worshipful eyes and asked me to teach them something that would keep them alive. What kept me steadfast was Roe's face. I knew she'd been killed by these people, and even if I taught them to survive it would only serve to give them more time to kill my navy brethren. What I did do was defer them to Naia, also a solid pilot, and teach them how to train themselves.
           For Amara it was a different matter: she was my knight and student. After making her swear not to teach the other pilots any of what she learned, the two of us spent almost all of our downtime in the simulators, fighting out hundreds of reenactments of our one battle. I also began to teach her the rudiments of fencing with a pair of Naia's decorative sabers and two thickly padded EVA suits. Admittedly it did little to improve her catlike reflexes, but she said that enjoyed the esoteric rules of a purely human sport, and I enjoyed staying in practice. In return she very humbly taught me her military's Hai'gan style of unarmed combat. As my bandages came off - those repair nanobots worked miracles - I learned how to fight a Hrasi quite effectively. By far Amara was the better teacher of the two of us: she hit more softly.
           "Morning," Amara murred into my ear. "Khos Ahrn, it's time to wake up." She lay on top of my back, whispering into the back of my neck. "Khos Ahrn, good morning? Shower?" I just grumbled softly; she'd given me a very thorough tonguing down the previous night after we'd missed the shower call. As a result I was lax and slack that morning.
           "You can't just give me another tongue bath?" Where I was expecting a response I got instead raspy licks on my shoulder. Somehow it didn't feel as good as the night before, when she had been coy.
           "Uhn... Just kidding Amara. I'm up already."
           "Good. My tongue aches." I turned my head to the side, trying to look up at her.
           "Really?" There was a dry snuffling from her, or perhaps a wheezing. This was the first time I'd heard the noise, but it sounded friendly.
           "No, not really. Let's go, khos Ahrn. We don't want to miss the shower again." Clawed fingers rolled me over and pulled me up to a sitting position from the shoulders. As I nodded off Amara caught me by the jaw and kissed me full on the lips.
           "Uh, you must want me up if you'll do that," I mumbled. "Alright..." She gracefully leapt out of bed and swaggered with swaying hips to the door. "God, Amara," I said earnestly, "you're beautiful when you're nude." Ears perked as she looked back at me with a dip of the muzzle.
           "I thought you didn't like looking at me, khos Ahrn."
           "Well, it's not my fault; you're subjecting me to it. I can enjoy it if I don't have any choice in the matter. Besides, it's true." That got me a raised brow.
           "I hope you'll let me still wear clothes..." She laughed when I stopped dead. "A joke, khos Ahrn. I know how you feel."
           I clambered out of our bed slowly and painfully. Cold morning air exists on spaceships, you know. Damn straight it does. With freezing cold bulkheads for walls and heat-sucking steel for a floor, a spaceship is a very cold place for anyone to wake up in. Yes, I know, the spaceship doesn't actually get colder between shifts. It still feels that way...
           We walked down the living quarter's corridor to the shower room. Mist fogged upwards and blinded me, followed by a tingling wet wall that flowed out from the shower doors. Early morning aches still plagued me, but nonetheless we searched through the spray for our friends. As usual Naia and Eshera were standing under a showerhead, playing with each other's pelts. This time Naia was trying to use the soap to gel Eshera's mane into a huge, overextended Mohawk while Eshera pulled Naia's chest fur into spikes with the same method. Eshera gave us a wild look when we entered and took our usual corner showerhead.
           "Hey, look at Naia! Isn't her fur great?" Naia leaned past her partner to see us and brightened.
           "It's Aaron and Amara," Naia chirped in her clipped English, "A human and his Hrasi! A pilot and his puma. A Lieutenant and his lion. A soldier and his serval. A -"
           "Good morning to you too, Naia." She smiled and I grimaced. "Why are you so perky today?"
           "Can't tell."
           "Never mind her, khos Ahrn." Already Amara had the soap out, lathering up her shoulders. The water was hot that morning, thank god. I retrieved some of my own from the dispenser and got to work washing my arms. "Today is a [ ] day, khos Ahrn. I'm still tired from the kicking drills we did yesterday. Maybe tonight we could fence instead?"
           "Hey," Naia complained from beside us, "that's not funny."
           "Why?" I asked, curious at her behavior. She shook her head.
           "Tell you after breakfast." Each of the Hrasi smiled, but I missed the joke.
           Out of the corner doorway two more Hrasi emerged. One was Ayo and the other... Maura? She gave me a look as she entered - ears back with nostrils flaring. Amara moved beside me to watch her sister with a strange, intense look. Ayo went ahead to the shower, but Maura stared, then purposefully turned to look at Ayo and back to us. She shrugged, and I realized that Maura was looking at Amara. There was message there; Maura would only wait so long, even for her little sister. For a minute she waited, then followed Ayo.
           "Ayo... is my friend... why'd she take up with Maura?" Amara breathed, suddenly looking much less interested in showering or joking.
           "You told me Hrasi only sleep alone when they're sick or in mourning," I whispered softly, "What did you expect?"
           "I know. It's just as well. Hrnn... Please, Ahrn, let's leave now. The water is almost over anyway." Water streamed down her face and chest, but that morning she looked soaked and matted instead of slick, smooth, and beautiful. It was the way that she carried herself.
           "Sure, as long you can stand having me unwashed all day." She rinsed the soap out of her fur quickly, then turned to go.
           "Not a problem." She must have been really disturbed to forego having me clean. With a shrug I followed her out the door and back to our cabin, trailing water all the way. Those corridors were freezing: maybe Amara had a thick fur coat to keep out the chill, but I was going to die. Maybe she was freezing too.
           Amara paced to the door, but somehow I don't think it was because she was cold. She practically ripped it open and stalked through. Quietly I followed her inside. Warm air drifted through the floor vent, making a soft whir; squatting over it was my Amara, shuddering. Without saying anything I turned around and shut the door. Shaky sniffs and hisses rose above the background noise from behind me. "Sorry, khos Ahrn," Amara growled, "I didn't mean to make you look like a fool."
           "That's alright." Our towels were in the bottom drawer of our only cabinet; I picked two out. The first went around my waist. Even after being around giant, lewd, female cats for three weeks there was still some modesty there. After walking to Amara I draped the second over her; she was shivering and dripping from the wind chill of the open ship's hallways.
           "I'm sorry. Maura... She's my sister, khos Ahrn. We're supposed to be [exclusive? / loyal?] to eachother."
           "But you left her for me. Can't she leave you for Ayo?" Muscles tensed under the towel, then softened.
           "I know. She's my big sister, though. I keep her to a different [standard?], even if it does make me a [hypocrite?]. I love her..."
           "And she loves you. That doesn't change. It's not a problem, Amara." She glared at me fiercely.
           "Not a problem? You really don't understand, do you? It's not just sleeping with one another, it's real bonding. She won't care about me, all she'll pay attention to is Ayo. Ahrn, it's not right!" Her teeth were bared angrily, but she caught herself. "Khos Ahrn, I apologize. I shouldn't speak to you in such a way. I don't mean to angry with you. Forgive me."
           "Forgiven," I said, putting a hand over her mouth, "but calm down. She's your sister, isn't she? So why are you afraid she'll forget you? You worry too much. If you really want her for yourself, then go back to her. I don't have a problem with being alone." Water dripped from a beleaguered Hrasi's beard as Amara shook her fur out and stood stiffly; I followed her up.
           "No. With respect, khos Ahrn, no. I'm not ready to [abandon?] you. I would [rather?] die." Her chest heaved, but she toweled herself off all the same and went to the clothes drawer to pull out a uniform. "I'll live, khos Ahrn. Thank you. There are more important things now. We should go to her cabin; she can explain it to you better than I can."
           Black slacks and a pair of red breeches were all that was left of our clothes. "Never mind them, khos Ahrn," Amara said, hovering above me, "put on my flight suit." Curious, I turned to her, then did a double take. She had donned her uniform, but was taking one of the EVA suits out from their compartment.
           "What's this?"
           "I don't have the words to tell you; Naia can. Please put on my flight suit, khos Ahrn." No sense in disobeying her, so I took it from the drawer along with the breeches and my one surviving human shirt.
           Elastic bands encircled brown hide leather on the pants and vest. Maybe it'd stretch to fit me. With a bit of struggling and grunting I managed to fit everything on, but the flight gear constricted my body painfully. It felt like a goddamn medieval corset. Worse, that constriction-protection style probably meant that the fighters had poor gravity compensation systems, so if I ever flew one it'd throw me around like a rag doll. The thought proved to be fortuitous.
           As soon as all of our clothes were on we headed for Naia's cabin. On my left side Amara walked grimly. She caught me looking at her and gave me a wry smile. "Hold my hand, khos Ahrn?" It was proffered limply. "Don't press on it." Lightly I took her small paw and held it in my palm. Out of simple curiosity I squeezed lightly on her pads to see the claws come out, but she flinched. "khos Ahrn, please. You can play with me as much as you want, but please, later." Feeling chastised, I loosened my grip.
           When we got to Naia's room we found the door open. Some murmuring came from inside the cabin. I knocked on the inside wall of the room and there was a surprised cat noise - an 'uroww', I guess. Naia's head popped out from the door.
           "Aaron, Amara. Please, come in." She slid the door behind us as we stepped into her gloomy den. All the lights were turned off, but neither of the Hrasi seemed to care; hell, they could see in the dark. The last rays of light from the hallway died as Naia closed her door. Amara kept walking through the room, but I stayed put.
           "What is it, khos Ahrn?"
           "Turn on the lights, Naia," someone else said, "he can't see. Humans don't have [ ] in their eyes." The lights blared and I doubled over in pain. "Not all at once! You'll hurt him. Just a [ ] [ ]," somebody insisted.
           "Sorry," Naia called to me, and the light bled away to where I could open my eyes without falling down and curling into a fetal ball.
           The room was full of Hrasi. There were ten people splayed across the room. Ayo and Maura sat on the bed, Ayo resting her head on Maura's neck - she had to have been the one who'd spoken up. Then, of course, Amara, Naia, and I were standing up next to the door. Eshera and Jaurn were laid out on the carpet beside the bed, the larger male Khaidu sat at the table, and a youngish female couple - Uru and Taiiyi - held hands in the bed's corner. Amara tugged me to the nearest wall and we leaned against it with arms around each other's backs. Both Maura and Amara were bristling at the sight of one another.
           "I thought Amara was flying," Maura growled.
           "Khos Ahrn is better," Amara said quietly.
           "Hey, hey," I interrupted, "What's this about flying?"
           "The Yusuurans are coming," Jaurn explained. "We're going to rendezvous with them. There are only five ships [available?]. We have five pilots and five gunners. The [ ] will try to stop us, and we will be [outnumbered?]. Tenuran and the other pilots will have the [advantage]; there will be four of them for each of us. So we must plan carefully."
           Treachery was in the air. I looked from Amara to Jaurn to Naia, then to Maura. Yusuurans? Outnumbered? Fighting Tenuran? This was a sudden change from the carefree people I thought I'd met the day before. So Amara had given me her suit so that I'd fly in her place? The other four flight-suited people were Naia, Jaurn, Taiiyi, and Ayo.
           "I don't understand. Yusuurans?" Naia hissed in despair.
           "Of all the possible times. Give us a minute," she instructed the assembly, then switched to plain English. "Quick history lesson: listen up. There are three warring factions of Hrasi society, all embroiled in a civil war. It's the only reason your species is still alive. They're the Haigh Guard, the Enlisted Royal Army, and the Yusuuran Freedom Coalition.
           "The Haigh are lunatics. They're all for war and conquest over the humans, as though there was no point in diplomacy at all. They mostly want the humans for slaves and food. The idea of having a human slave for anything besides muscle power is disgusting to them, much less the thought of coexisting with one. They want to abolish our government and replace it with a patriarchic, militaristic one even tougher and more conservative than the one we have now. They paint their ships blood red and do their foreign relations with nukes and fusion guns."
           "Amazing," I exclaimed, impressed, "You have conservatism? Ours died out with the assassination of Fuko Orinoko, the 83rd American president, when ICA took over. It was downhill from there..." I got a sharp glare from Naia.
           "We are talking about Hrasi politics. I am perfectly aware of Ms. Orinoko's demise, as well as that of her nation, but I don't care. It does not matter what regime your people have imposed upon themselves, it matters what regime you will ally with among our people. You need to be aware of them before you decide your allegiance, or you may find yourself thrown in amongst people whose 'ideology' you do not share.
           "The Enlisted Royal Army is the official faction of our people. It is endorsed by the chambers of council on Haras. They are a mixed bag of people, so to speak. The command staff and highest positions in the crews of Royal ships are almost all hard-line Haigh patrons who enjoy the legitimacy of the Royal Army, while the pilots and other mistreated position-holders are mostly Yusuurans enslaved to the Army. There is also a draft program in our society, but mostly for pilots, because we can also substitute as muscle, as the officer's harem, as emergency food rations..."
           "I get the picture."
           "Right. Well, they maintain a balance between fighters and capital ships, whereas the Haigh relies mostly on capital ships. I do not think they would take kindly to you either
           "While the Yusuurans are not as enthusiastic about personal freedoms as I would prefer, you do come from the communist ICA, so you may find their 'freedom' appealing. The Yusuuran Freedom Coalition is the exact opposite of the Haigh. They are essentially socialists, but they wish to resolve this war peacefully. What stops them is that the Hrasi do not show a united front, and are vulnerable while divided. We Yusuurans are very unpopular right now, mostly because of our leader's vision for an oppressive government, but we could change that. They do see humans as second-class citizens or equals, as opposed to merely slaves.
           "The only reason we Yusuurans have survived, in fact, is that we allow humans to freely mingle with Hrasi in our crews and culture, so we benefit from the superior technology and expertise that liberated human prisoners share with us. Because we do not have the support of the people, we have no public base of operations, and exist primarily as pirates and raiders. For this reason we rely almost entirely on rugged fighters and bombers that require little maintenance or care, which are ideally flown by superior pilots and carried by fast transports disguised as merchanters. Quality over quantity, as it were."
           Naia finished her speech to look at me critically. "That's all. I think the choice should be obvious: you're a man from ICA. You're a human faced with three sides, two of which would rather kill you than look at you. The choice, however, is still yours. Be forewarned that I'll have to kill you if you choose anything besides the Freedom Coalition."
           "What a difficult choice," I growled gutturally, switching back to Hrasi, "Politics will be the death of us all. As much as I would love to be enslaved, I think I'll fight for the Yusuurans." Ears went up all around the room, accompanied with equal smiles.
           "Thank god," Maura muttered, "we would have had to kill you." That got her an unbridled hiss of rage from Amara, who bunched up her muscles and moved protectively in front of me, but I calmed her down with a firm hand on the neck.
           "If Ahrn flies," Ayo murmured, undisturbed by the sibling quibble, "Then Amara should fly in my [place?]. She is better than I am." A look up at Amara. "Trade?" Amara stopped and nodded gravely.
           "Trade, and my thanks. Who is flying with whom?" The two moved towards each other and started stripping down. Nobody seemed to notice except for myself and - surprise - Khaidu. Jaurn sighed.
           "We'll partner up. Naia?"
           "-is taking me," Eshera blurted out.
           "Of course. Then Uru is with Taiiyi, I assume. Khaidu, you alright with me?" The man was busy watching Ayo's swishing tale. "Khaidu!" Jaurn snarled, and he came out of his stupor.
           "Yes? Oh. Yes." Jaurn looked irritated.
           "I'm with Amara," Maura growled. "Don't even bother to ask." Amara gave her a truly untranslatable look as she zipped up the connection between her flight jacket and pants. "And that means Ayo is with Ahrn, so he'll have a doctor if he loses his [cool?] and gets hurt."
           "If things get that bad the rest of us will have been killed [anyway?]," Amara said lowly.
           "Hey," Naia admonished them, "act like [adults?]." Ears swiveled as she turned to me. "We'll be in khazra fighters. It should be just like the simulator." The two changing ladies finished and returned to their partners.
           "So how do we get to our ships, and when do we go?" Jaurn gave me a dully-lidded stare.
           "We fight to the ships. We leave when the Yusuuran ship gets here. That seems obvious."
           "And until then?" She shrugged.
           "Day as usual. Don't make Tenuran suspicious. If you do, shoot her." She looked around the room and shrugged. "Alright. We wait. Keep your guns close. Once the Yusuurans [arrive?], meet in the lounge."
           All of the Hrasi rose at once, then filed out one by one. Each of them glanced at Amara and I. Naia smiled, Amara glared, and Jaurn watched the whole scene coolly. "Shouldn't you two be at the bar?" She continued forward, then stopped. "And don't get drunk. We have to fly today." She left Amara and I leaning up against the wall. Pale white light illuminated her face, making her short, thin whiskers look like silhouettes.
           "Why didn't you tell me? We could have been training Taiiyi and Naia." She sighed gustily.
           "I don't know. Khos Ahrn, this is not as simple as it seems. You understand, don't you? You and I, we could change how the war ends. Our side would be [victorious?], no [matter?] which one we chose. I couldn't [ ] your choice. Your choice has to be all yours, khos Ahrn, not mine. I'd follow you to fight on any side. It wouldn't be fair for me to [bias?] your decision, understand? That's why..."
           "Who else would I fight with," I murmured, "the people who want me dead? Or the people who want me enslaved?" Amara twitched her whiskers and sneezed.
           "...I don't know. Maybe back to the humans."
           God, back to ICA? In three weeks I'd made more choices about my life than I had in the last 25 years. ICA was protective and caring, but you were basically handed your life after you got out of school. Sure, the Hrasi had slavery and downplayed physical and sexual abuse, but compared to us they were a freedom-loving people. Of course, an ancient despotism would probably sound like a freedom-loving society compared to ICA. Even if I had the chance I wasn't sure I'd go back.
           "No. I trust my people, but I trust you more." She hugged me.
           "Thank you, khos Ahrn..." I got another hug. "We'd better leave Naia's room before somebody sees us." Good point...
          

---v---

           We waited together at the bar, but everyone else was too loose; they made fools of themselves. None of them were particularly good at hiding things or being inconspicuous. Naia and Taiiyi were training hard in the simulators using the Hrasi enemy ship set, for instance. They'd gone so far as to set up the specific mission objectives. Jaurn was talking with three younger pilots at a nearby table, deliberately misinforming them about fighting against Hrasi. Khaidu seemed to be having a serious heart-to-heart with his partner, probably trying to convert him. The only ones doing a decent job of hiding our intentions were Amara and I: myself because I was looking bored behind the bar, cleaning glasses, and Amara because she'd fallen asleep across from me on the counter.
           For three more hours we waited. Tenuran had mysteriously disappeared until about an hour after breakfast, when she walked out of living quarters yawning and came up to me. She looked groggy, but that was understandable. We were scheduled to make a trans-system conversion later in the evening, and there just isn't a whole lot for fighter pilots to do while going into a conversion. An ICA carrier would have had its fighters primed and staffed, because there is invariably lots to do to for the fighters on a ship coming out of a conversion, but the pilots would probably be sleeping in their ships. Needless to say, pre-conversion fatigue is fairly common.
           "Ahrn. You still have any warm breakfast?" Her ears drooped as she scowled. "I'm tired as hell."
           "Yeah, I have breakfast," I murmured, "just a minute." There was still some meat and fried egg back on the stove, even though it'd probably burned over. The intercom sputtered to life as I was fetching a fork and a plate to scrape the remaining food onto. Mostly it was used for announcing navigational hazards, but hopefully it'd give us something more important this time.
           "Crew, cease [operations?]. This is your captain; I have [ ] news. I have just been [informed?] that two Hrasi ships have [emerged?] from the conversion point. They appear to be a Haigh guard destroyer and a Yusuuran fighter carrier. It is our [duty?] to [suppress?] these forces, but I do not believe that we could survive without [deploying?] our fighters, and that is not a risk I am [willing?] to take. For this reason we will [ ] and make [potshots? / flyby attacks?] at both ship's engines to force them to destroy one another insystem while we [move on?]. Because of the risk of enemy [interception? / defection?], I am [ ] all ships onboard. No one may leave this ship until I [lift the ban?]. That is all; you may [resume?] your shifts."
           By the time he was done I had a plate full of food for Tenuran. She took one look at it and growled angrily, but otherwise took it without complaint. Amara was awake and curious now, and everyone else had stopped what they were doing. Maybe they were resentful that their captain wouldn't deploy them to win a battle. Maybe they all realized that their captain was afraid they'd defect and join the Yusuurans. Or maybe they just didn't give a damn. For sure Tenuran didn't, at least.
           "Good, we don't have to fight. Lucky us. No chance for us to die in our fighters."
           "Sir... shouldn't we be fighting the Haigh? We could beat them with our fighters," Amara reminded her, "captain said so." Mouthfuls of burnt meat disappeared from Tenuran's plate, but they got a reprieve when she heard that. Her ears flicked back in annoyance.
           "Perhaps if we were trustworthy they'd let us fly. I would attack the Yusuurans, myself." Tenuran blinked, then shook her head. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter."
           My recollections of that moment are to this day very concise. I had been watching Tenuran swallow a bite of her meal, then turned to the lounge door at the sound of it swishing open. A black boot protruded through, followed by black slacked knees and the barrel of a gun. After what felt like an hour later a single uniformed Hrasi had fully entered the room. Followed by another. And another. And another. And another. Six security officers assembled at the entrance, then - much to my dismay - raised their weapons. One more person followed them through, and my heart sunk through my gut.
           "Ah, my pilot friends. [ ] with the captain's orders, you're all under arrest. You have been [charged?] with both [ ] [ ] and [harboring?] a prisoner of war. None of you may leave this area without the captain's [permission? / authorization], and you will give us our prisoner." With a frown a black-clad, glowering Kjistha surveyed the room. As his eyes hit me he seemed to light up. "Ah, mister Ahrn. That was an excellent [trick?] you used on me. I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you, though. Get up. Now."
           "You can't do that," Amara hissed, rising to her feet, "I won't let you!"
           "Then I'll shoot you too," he growled. Then to me: "Up."
           "No," Amara insisted. Her iron claws clamped down on my shoulder and forced me down into my seat. "He is not yours. He's mine." They stared at eachother. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her reaching surreptitiously for her gun.
           "Don't. Sit down, pilot," Tenuran ordered. Nobody moved. The whole room was on the edge of a coin, right about to land one way or the other. It was not long in resolving itself.
           Across the room, Khaidu burst from seat, grabbing his partner and throwing him into the wall like a slab of meat. He pulled his gun to shoot the guards, then he himself erupted in bullet explosions that riddled his body and threw him to the ground. Nothing more was needed: around the room Hrasi pulled guns and started shooting. Amara was firing blindly at the guards, trading accuracy for volumes of lead, radiation, and heat. "No, dammit," Tenuran screamed, "what the hell are you people doing? Traitors!" She howled in outrage. "Stop it, damn you! Stop!" Not thinking anything of it, I instinctively grabbed her mane and pulled her face hard into the counter. There was a snap and the woman went limp. God, I'd thought, I just killed her. Any remorse beyond that was drowned out by bullet fire.
           It was a short fight. The only ones armed were my Yusuurans and the guards, most of whom Amara had taken out with her initial volley. The poor women who had woken up and gone to eat breakfast in the lounge were dead. They had no guns, no armor, and hiding under the table hadn't worked too well. Nor did the guards fare very well: every last one lay dead on the floor, and the wall behind them was spattered red.
           "Everyone alright?" Jaurn asked.
           "It hurts," Eshera moaned from the corner, and Naia yowled dismay, running to her side. Blood seeped through hands Eshera held over her thigh.
           "Eshera! No! Ayo, help her!" Naia was distraught, ears down, furred puffed out. Her pelt was a sickening sight: other people's blood had messed it a deep red. Everyone else seemed all right, though young Uru was sucking her right arm with crimson spittle running down her muzzle. Ayo brushed past the others to kneel at Eshera's feet.
           "Take your hands off," she murmured, and when Eshera did Ayo shrugged. "Only through the [muscle?]. Wrap it. I'll take the bullet out when we get to the Yussuuran ship." She got up and looked to Naia. "Help her walk."
           "Hey," Maura hissed, "Are you boys ready to go yet? Or should we wait for the officers to [ ] us?"
          

---v---

           Funny how just when you think you know somebody you learn that you really don't. We'd butchered our way through the corridors, my peaceful friends shooting and ripping through the hapless midshipmen that got in our way. Once in the elevators things calmed down, though. Even when cramped in close quarters they didn't lose their cool. To me it was nerve-wracking: the scents of predators and gore hung heavily. Amara in particular was covered in blood; she'd protected me fiercely in close quarters. Not that I couldn't take care of myself, mind you. There was blood on me too, though I wasn't proud of it.
           Yet another chance to soil myself with other's bodily fluids appeared as the elevator doors opened wide and a pair of surprised young men jumped back from the doors. With a growl of disgust Maura jumped into the hallway and ripped out the first man's throat with her paw. The second man I threw myself at, doing him a huge favor; the others would kill him. As we slammed against each other in a bodily collision I grappled his left arm and twisted it back with a nasty snap. Of course he screamed: the untrained are pathetic at pain control. With a jerk I leveraged the guy's bulk into a sharp kick to his chest, shattering his rib cage. He fell to the ground limply, moaning, and I let him be.
           "Where are the ships?" A bloodied Maura looked up and flicked her ear to the right.
           "They're still a hundred [ ] away. Let's go."
           Our party ran down the corridor madly, covering a few hundred meters in seconds. Footsteps other than our own pounded from the opposite end of the corridor, so Amara pulled her gun. "Don't you think you should at least -" Maura began to warn, but stopped after Amara started firing. With a look of disgust, Maura pulled her gun and joined in. Belatedly I looked back to the end of the corridor to see a maintenance team being torn apart by bullets.
           "Don't stop now," Naia growled, pushing the two aside, "the flight bay is just ahead." The four of us dashed ahead with the others closely in tow. Yelping frightenedly, one last worker turned the corner and ran at me. Such a daring advance it was, but less daring when his face crumpled into my heel and his head twisted back. It felt wrong, but that was hardly a limiting factor. We rushed the corner and burst into the super-carrier's tertiary hangar.
           Ever imagine the insides of one of a super-carrier's hangers? No? It's really, really big. Three kilometers deep, three kilometer wide, and 3 times that lengthwise, lined on all sides with fighters, with support craft, with two internally stored frigates, with seven bulky corvettes at the front, and with missiles everywhere. And Maura could only secure us five ships? "This way!" an annoyed Naia yelled as I faltered at the engineering marvel.
           "[Split up?]!" Jaurn hissed. All of a sudden Ayo was at my side.
           "Our ship is next to Amara's, on the third deck. Follow." She found rungs on the wall and started climbing; I followed.
           "Hey, wait!" Amara called from far below. "Khos Ahrn!" She jumped up the ladder and raced to me, nudging past my legs to almost get up to my level. From up above Ayo was looking down worriedly. "Don't worry!" Amara called upwards, "I'll just [be?] a minute!" She reached up her hand and unzipped my flight jacket. First she kissed my nipple, then bit it lightly. "Good luck, khos Ahrn. I'll be out there for you."
           "And myself for you too," I mumbled, embarrassed. I dropped down long enough to kiss her briefly on the forehead. "Good luck, Amara. Now get out of here." After quickly zipping up my jacket I followed Ayo. It was about 150 meters straight up, then the two of us popped the cockpit on a sleek, black khazra interceptor with blue trim. Below us Amara and Maura were scaling another ladder to an adjacent ship.
           "Inside," Ayo commanded, "fast." She pulled herself inside, then I followed her into the dark cockpit. As I pulled the hatch shut Ayo crawled over me. "There's a [passenger section?] behind us. If you need something, scream." I nodded, then properly seated myself. The horizontal seatbelt went on, followed by the vertical straps, the diagonals, and then finally I slipped my legs into place. On cue the systems came up, then the controls and displays activated.
           "Look sharp!" Jaurn cried. That was disorienting; her voice was there, but she wasn't. It'd been a while since I'd heard an intercom that was that good. "We've got fighters coming [active? / alive?] inside the hangar!"
           "Where'd they get pilots?" somebody yelled.
           "Who cares? We're evacuating! Ahrn, you're first, then Taiiyi, then Amara, then Naia, and I'll [finish?]. There's enough [ ] in this hangar to take out the whole ship; I'll [ ] them as I leave! Ahrn, go!"
           Undocking sequences came to me in a blur. On a human ship, even under calm circumstances, fighter launch is a delicate orchestration of choreography between the launching craft, landing ones, flight crews, service vehicles, and everything else you might find on a flight deck. Those are ideal conditions where skill and trust keep everyone alive in cramped quarters. Here wide-open spaces made up for the lack of any guidance whatsoever. The entire ship rocked; that meant that the Haigh and Yusuurans were within firing range. Bombers and inceptors without pilots all around us lighted up.
           "Shit!" Naia swore, "They're going to fly the fighters with [remote controls?]. We're going to have a [full-blown?] battle in a minute if we don't launch! Hurry up, Ahrn!"
           "Yes Ma'am," I sent back as I finished the uncoupling sequence. "I'm free to launch. Taiiyi, wait! Amara, get out there now. I'm going to shoot down some of these other ships before they can fight back!"
           "Yes, khos Ahrn," Amara replied, and below me her ship powered up. I turned the engines on prematurely, usually a big no-no inside a starship - fusion engines are dirty things, and their particle-fragment exhaust has a nasty habit of melting anything that's not properly shielded. In this case, however, it was a great weapon. I simply waved my ship's rear over the legions of unoccupied fighters and they liquidated down into slag. Across the hangar bay other ships lit up, so I toggled an EMP missile up and launched it at them. That entire subsection went dark as the electromagnetic pulse disrupted every electric system in use there.
           All of the others had jetted out the hangar bay doors except for Jaurn, who was circling high above me, although right about then the concept of 'above' was becoming shaky. "Get out of there, now, before Jaurn [triggers?] the [ ], khos Ahrn!" Amara hissed at me. I broke off the unconventional attack to circle around and shoot my way out of there.
           "Let's go, let's go," an unfamiliar voice crackled as I made my exit from the maw-like pylon structure that extended past the hangar doors. The ends of each pylon had a fast-tracking turret attached to it, specifically meant for taking out fighters. Did they keep ships in or out? Maybe they did both - I didn't know.
           "Keep with them," another indistinguishable Hrasi ordered. Then more voices, all strange.
           "I'm hit!"
           "The prey is almost [dead? / finished?]!"
           "Help me!" Then, to my shock, a human woman's voice came on.
           "Bha'hi, hold on! I'm there!" the woman promised. In the meantime, each turret had aimed for me. I swerved through their fire for only a minute, because it stopped abruptly afterward. Jaurn's ship rocketed past me, and the pylons took on a reddish glare. Ah hell, I thought, not now. Without thinking I hit the afterburner, then took a look at the rear camera display.
           Must have hit an oxygen main. A colossal fireball, normally impossible in space, raced up out of the hangar, quickly overtaking the pylons. Several smaller explosions rocked the super-carrier, billowing outwards and racing along the hull as the com chatter turned to horrified exclamations. I couldn't imagine what kind of firestorm must have raged inside. Fire burst from in between the sheets of the super-carrier's armor, ripping them away. For perhaps thirty seconds it shook, then in a brilliant flash the super-carrier's main conversion drive triggered outside of a conversion point. The result: the ship fried itself from the inside out, shearing frigate-sized chunks of metal from the brittle inner armor and melting away the rest.
           "My god! That was five thousand people!" I didn't know who's said that, but it turned my stomach. Indirectly responsible for the destruction of a Hrasi super-carrier and the death of five thousand... My captain would probably be ecstatic: I'd done far more than my share of alien killing, but it left me with a cold lump in my stomach. Five thousand people never deserve to die.
           "Keep going, Ahrn! You're going to be [engulfed? / overcome?] by the fireball!" Naia yelled at me. Indeed it was advancing on me, but less so after I hit my craft's afterburners and plunged ahead into a nightmarish dogfight.
           Two capital ships circled high over my cockpit: one a dark, bloody carrier with fang-like protrusions lined with even more fast-tracking turrets that spewed energy and metal at swarms of fighters, and the other a drab Hrasi freighter that sported several rail-gun mounts. The tan freighter was about a tenth the size of the carrier, but in turn it was about ten times more maneuverable, and was dodging the carrier's main beam cannon projector quite well as it launched and docked hordes of smaller fighters. An even match, which was unacceptable. To make matters worse, every ship except those of my fellow escapees read on sensors as enemy: no distinction between Haigh and Yussuuran ships. Squadrons of red and green bombers danced and twisted amongst eachother as wings of interceptors clashed and columns of space superiority fighters shot each other down.
           "Jaurn, how am I supposed to figure out who to shoot at? I can't see the ship's colors," I signaled, "what do I do?"
           "You don't shoot anybody," she called back, "just land on the Yussuuran ship and switch into one of their fighters." Right. Just land on the freighter and take one of their ships: they won't mind.
           "Don't, Khos Ahrn. I'll send you target [data?]." That from Amara, who, true to her word, sent me a target: the leader bomber in a tight wedge that was careening towards the freighter. Rail-gun fire hailed high-velocity metal down on them, but mostly it either missed or bounced harmlessly of the bomber's shielding. Well, we'll see about that, I thought, arcing around and rotating the weapons selection around to the linear accelerators.
           Nasty things, linear accelerators are. No, they don't speed up lines, they bombard the first thing in their path with protons. Scientifically, linear accelerators are used in physics and atomic manipulation because protons (the defining characteristic of an atom) can change one element into another. Militarily, they can change ablative armor like tungsten-hafnium alloys into weak gold-mercury goop that can then be easily scraped away by the plasma charges that immediately follow.
           When I let the accelerators loose on the lead bomber it took on a golden sheen, then shattered. That meant the armor had reacted into silicon, most likely. Funny how that detached line of thinking comes around when you get into an intense situation. Amara sent me another bomber target - the ship immediately to the left of the one I'd just taken out, but I ignored that and fired randomly at the whole bomber wing, catching them around the engines and exposed missile bays: that was where the chemical reactions would be the most volatile. All but one exploded in chain reactions, and the last broke away sluggishly.
           The lucky bastard must have had her engines transformed into something non-reactive with the fuel and the heat from the fusion drive. No problem, though: I circled with her to stay on her rear and changed to simple flak cannons, shredding up her engines. The bomber's shielding couldn't safeguard that area as long as her engines were on, so there was nothing to keep the bullets from spraying through her hull. The odds of one those bullets killing the pilot outright was low, but I bet the ensuing fusion reaction that tore her ship into a cloud of shrapnel did.
           Out of nowhere my ship rocked forcefully. Another G or two pressed me down into my seat as my ship twisted off course. Pain screamed through my arm as I fought to keep my hands on the controls. Dizziness overtook me, making the panels blur. Lots of the blue on the panel turned red. No air could get into my throat. Everything spun, blurring, mixing. Rather than the silence of drowning I heard my own blood roaring through my veins. The strength was draining from my arms...
           "Ahrn! Dammit, move!" Ayo screamed. Her voice was garbled in my hallucinatory state. I tried to call her name, but only gargled spit and phlegm. "Ahrn! Oh god, are you alive?" Now she was right behind me, unstrapped from her seat. But if there were so many G's, how could she? Was she that strong?
           A furry hand reached over me to release the restraints on my chest. A great weight came off of my chest, throwing me forward. "The [restraints?] were choking you?" Another shake bounced my upper torso into the console again, while Ayo flew past me to smash into the overhead cockpit. "Got to get back to my seat. Would you get out of the weapons fire? We can't [take much more?]."
           "No problem." I pushed myself up off the controls and wiped blood from a smashed nose. "Ugh, that hurt." One more hit knocked us around, but I got my hands back on the controls. Surprise: no motion. The engines must have fried. "Shit. Amara!" I signaled, "I need help, now! My engines are dead and I'm being fired on."
           "I'll be right there, khos Ahrn," She responded immediately, "Don't worry, I can see you." Radar showed her ship inbound, red blips disappearing all around her. More explosions rocked my ship, then abruptly ended along with a single red blip winking out. "Got her. Jaurn, I'm going to protect khos Ahrn. Can we get a [ ] from the freighter?"
           "Sorry," someone else interrupted, "we don't have one. If we can [force?] the Haigh into retreat we can pick him up with the [ ], but that's all." Great.
           The battle raged on. Out of commission, I was reduced to watching the radar as the drama unfolded. After a few minutes Amara was able to feed me a new identification algorithm so I could tell Haigh from Yusuuran. The Haigh came up as enemy red, the Yusuurans as green, and the stolen royal ships as blue. One by one the red Haigh fighter and bomber wedges disappeared. They flew so rigidly and uncreatively that I wondered if they even had pilots, or perhaps just a single pilot for each fighter wing. In any case, they were being torn apart by our friends the Yusuurans, who flew fast and furious. Naia hadn't been kidding; these were premium pilots.
           Unfortunately, they didn't seem to be enough. No matter how many green blips the freighter spewed out they couldn't match the rate at which the Haigh carrier shot them down. That freighter could only hold so many fighters, and eventually the rate at which they launched slowed. Inevitablely the call for retreat came, of course, but I'd still hoped that it wouldn't occur.
           "Fall back," came the word from a young female Hrasi pilot. Just two words, but they were essentially a death sentence. "We won't win this one without more [ ] power. Fall back. If you [enlisted?] pilots want to [defect?], land with us. We leave in five minutes."
           "Wait!" Amara cried, "What about khos Ahrn?" The reply wasn't heartless, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear either.
           "We can't risk good pilots to save one who [isn't?]. I'm sorry. If you want to stay with your lord, that's your choice, but we have to leave." After that the silence was deafening.
           "Going to make time," Amara told me. I watched the radar as she turned around in her fighter and sent off a whole volley of EMP missiles in a blossom at the Haigh ships. "That'll keep them away from us for a while."
           "Amara, get going. You only have five minutes." Brutally honest: I had to be brutally honest.
           "Khos Ahrn! I'm going to protect you. You're hurt!" there were some background protests over the intercom. "...my duty to him," Amara argued.
           "No, it's not, dammit. Amara, get out of here now. It's dangerous."
           "I can handle it, khos Ahrn, and I won't leave you-"
           "You can't handle it, Amara, and yes, you will leave me. That's a carrier; you can't fight it. Go, run. Save yourself. I never want to see you again." There was quiet for a moment.
           "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, khos Ahrn."
           "God, don't you understand? The rest of my life is going to be an hour or two! And you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Run, Amara! Don't throw your life away! Don't throw Maura's life away, if you love her or me!"
           She didn't respond, but maneuvered closer. Her fighter gently flipped over mine. small jets brought her cockpit down far closer than was safe. The sensor alarm went off and started reading off our proximity: ten meters, then eight, then four, then two, then one. Amara showed no signs of stopping, and indeed after a few more seconds her cockpit clanked into mine.
           "Khos Ahrn, I love you," she whispered over the crackly com. "I want you to know that before anything happens." Through the cockpit I could see her, torn. Blood and sweat and grime and locks of greased hair covered her face. It did little to hide the anguish she bore. Whitish glare from the system's star disfigured her image, but I could still see what happened next. Very carefully she unbuckled her restraints and took a hand off the controls. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed it up against the cockpit, splaying her claws. Only six inches of transparent steel away, but it might has well have been six light-years. All the same, I reached out my hand and fit it to hers.
           "I can feel the warmth in your hand," I murmured. It was true, and comforting. Almost like being there beside her. Taking that time from her was too dangerous. "Get going," I whispered solemnly. She stared at me, hurt, but took back the hand to the controls and pulled away slowly. Our eyes locked and stayed locked as her ship drifted away. Amara got smaller and smaller until I couldn't see her whiskers, then until I couldn't see her black nose pad, until finally her eyes were whited out by the glare. "Good luck," I breathed.
           "See you, khos Ahrn." From inside my ship I watched her fighter turn around slowly, then saw her fusion drives ignite.
           "See you." But she didn't hear it; she was already out of range.
          
           End Part 6