Winds of darkness - Part Eleven

  		(c) 2001, Wirewolf
		(Rewritten 2/1/99)


  Between the freed hostages and those who had arrived to help them, Redics couldn't 
remember ever seeing so many people aboard the Ti Phorus at once.  He stood off to one 
side watching the med techs and doctors doing triage and preliminary scans of their 
patients.  There wasn't anything he could do at this point.

  He wasn't surprised to see Jim Garvin arrive with the second wave of medical personnel.  
He was carrying a sealed metal flask almost as long as his arm.  He wrinkled his nose.  
Redics had no doubt the smell of the hostages as well as the cold, oily atmosphere of the 
freighter still clung to them all.  Garvin would be polite enough not to mention it, of 
course.

  The older man moved over to where Redics stood.  He laid a casual hand on his 
shoulder.  "I take it things went well."

  Redics nodded.

  "You or your partners need medical attention?"

  "Some radiation poisoning, a few burns, nothing serious."

  "Good.  That's good."  Garvin sighed, then got to the point.  "I need your debriefing."

  Redics nodded again.  The two of them watched the bustle of activity for a minute.

  "Jim?"

  "Hmm?"

  Redics turned to his boss and friend.  "Thank you for putting us on this job."

  Garvin gave him an odd look, then chuckled quietly.  "Now there's a stroke of irony for 
the records."

  Curious, Redics asked, "Why?  Because I tried to refuse it at first?"

  "Oh, no," Garvin told him.  "You were right to say 'no' to a mission with such a personal 
stake in it."  He chuckled again, his eyes alight with humor.  "The irony is that one: I 
didn't put you on this job.  Admiral Beckwith and Ambassador Meldir are responsible for 
your being involved.  And two, I tried my best to talk them out of the whole thing.  
Almost got myself into deep water over it."  He studied the shorter man for the space of a 
few heartbeats before he continued.  "I think I understand your reaction, though."

  "You do?"  Redics sounded as though he wasn't sure he believed it.

  "I think so."  Garvin crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his voice.  "The fight 
you had with Del Tomusth cost you a lot, perhaps more than you realize.  You were 
fighting mostly for your own lives, and it was a hard, bitter fight.  You needed a chance 
to fight for someone else's lives.  That's what attracted you to this work to begin with- 
helping other people."  Garvin shook his head.  "By the time Del was finished, you could 
barely help yourselves."

  Redics nodded, thinking back on events.  "If I were completely honest with myself, I 
believe I'd find that I fully intended for us to be the ones who brought them back.  To 
ease the guilt, if nothing else."

  "Guilt?" Garvin exclaimed.

  "But I realized something more important, something that's only just occurred to me.  
You kept us from turning our backs on one of our closest friends."

  "Now wait a minute," Garvin said sharply.

  "No, it's true.  I was unwilling to take the risks necessary to bring our friend and his son 
back home."

  Garvin's voice became harsh.  "What's wrong with you, Redics?  Don't you remember 
how long it took to convince you to go after you found out that Sesh and Kitress were 
missing?  About fifteen seconds."  He turned his gaze back to the med techs and lowered 
his voice again.  "Honestly, I'll never understand this need of yours to belittle yourself.  
It's very unbecoming."  He let his temper wind down a bit before adding, "If you want 
someone to point a finger at, point it right at Beckwith and Meldir.  They're the ones who 
pushed you into this."

  Redics opened his mouth to say that accepting his mistakes did not qualify as belittling 
himself, but instead he closed it again and turned his attention to the activity among the 
meds.

  His feelings about the mission had been confused, right from the moment he had 
learned of Sesh's and Kitress' involvement.  He, T'yonnosh and Zanth had all pledged, 
out of friendship, to aid and protect Sesh and his family whenever they should be needed.  
That pledge certainly included doing what they had just done.

  Yet the concerns of becoming involved in a job in which personal feelings could 
threaten their objectivity were very real.  This had only been made clearer by their shared 
reluctance to accept the assistance Garvin had offered.  Personal feelings had tainted 
their judgment.

  An emotional response had prompted them to go to their friend's aid, but also made 
rendering that aid with detachment nearly impossible.  It was a dilemma that would not 
be solved any time soon, Redics decided, if ever.  He looked over at Garvin, noticing 
again the flask he held in one hand.

  "What's that?"

  Garvin turned his attention away from the med techs, who were starting to organize for 
their departure.  "What's what?  Oh, yes, I forgot.  This is for you."  He handed the flask 
to Redics.  "It's coffee."

  "Thank you," Redics said.  He stared at the brushed aluminum thermal flask, noticing 
the small ICCN emblem on the lid.  He wondered where Garvin had gotten it.

  It wasn't long before the doctors and their patients started piping out.  At the same time, 
T'yonnosh appeared from his room, an odd expression on his long face.  Zanth followed 
close behind.

  "They've gone with the doctor," was all he said as he stood beside them, watching the 
last of the meds and hostages disappear.  When they were alone, Garvin took a seat.  
Redics and T'yonnosh followed.

  "So what happened?" he asked.  He let himself be distracted for a second as Zanth 
walked by.  He reached out a hand, running it over the thick fur on Zanth's back.  The 
tundra cat ignored him.  In fact, after he had climbed onto the couch and laid down, he 
ignored them all.

  Redics and T'yonnosh spent a good twenty minutes taking turns describing the events of 
the past twenty-odd hours.  Garvin listened quietly.  When they finished, he said, "It 
sounds like Prulim's explanation was right."

  "What explanation?" Redics wanted to know.  "What is this all about?"

  "Collaboration," T'yonnosh said before Garvin could speak.  The older man raised an 
eyebrow.

  "You worked it out?"

  "Enough of it to know that elements from both Yrbo and Dhewa were involved."

  "That's Prulim's belief, as well.  And mine, now that I've heard your report."  Garvin 
motioned T'yonnosh to continue.

  "Well, at first, it didn't make sense," T'yonnosh admitted.  "The explosion and 
kidnapping was supposed to have been the work of a radical political group-what was 
their name?"

  "Sicthamahr," Garvin supplied.  "It means 'to throw off oppression', or something 
similar."

  "Right," T'yonnosh continued.  "Sicthamahr claimed it was their doing.  But their 
leader, Bespnuptha, had been killed a month before, and they were suffering from that 
lack of leadership.  So they didn't really have the ability to do what they said they had 
done.  Also, Sicthamahr is strongly against the presence of both Dhewa and the Alliance.  
And yet they were starting to work closely with that other group, the Les Esthid.  But Les 
Esthid is against the Alliance's presence and *for* relations with Dhewa.  I thought that 
since their cooperation started a month ago, when Bespnuptha was killed, that maybe 
some new influence within Sicthamahr was changing their views.  But to do that, there 
would have to be leadership, and there wasn't any.

  "It occurred to me that maybe it was the Les Esthid group itself that was giving the 
Sicthamahr group their leadership, and of course, their new outlook toward Dhewa.  The 
problem with that was, why steal a Dheway freighter and kill her crew if they wanted to 
keep their ties with Dhewa?"

  T'yonnosh paused, sorting his thoughts.  "There was something else that bothered me.  
That tidbit of information about the sales of fissionables from Dhewa to Yrbo having 
tripled recently.  It made sense for Dhewa to want to get rid of dangerous nuclear fuel 
that they didn't need anymore.  But since the Alliance had promised to start selling better 
technology to Yrbo in the near future, there wasn't any real market left for Dheway 
technology or materials.  What's more, Yrbo was having problems storing all those 
fissionables they were buying.  So Yrbo shouldn't have wanted what Dhewa was selling, 
let alone start tripling their orders."

  T'yonnosh turned to Redics.  "Do you understand why I warned Zanth not to let the 
Dheway dock with us?"

  Redics nodded.  "I think so.  If both the Yrboti and the Dheway were involved, it would 
go a long way toward explaining things."

  "And that's what struck me when Zanth told us the Dheway ship had shown up outside 
their territory.  It meant they were involved, not just victims," T'yonnosh explained.  "It 
occurred to me all at once that Dheway agents might have killed the leader of the 
Sicthamahr and put someone they could control in his place.  Then they could orchestrate 
the cooperation between Sicthamahr and Les Esthid.  Once they had both groups under 
their control, they had enough manpower to coordinate the explosion and kidnapping.  
They provided a ship and crew, as well as equipment like shielded laser pistols."  
T'yonnosh looked pointedly at Redics.  "With the Sicthamahr taking responsibility for 
the kidnapping, and later the deaths of Alliance citizens, Alliance-Yrboti relations would 
come apart.  Dhewa would have had little trouble keeping its trade with Yrbo once the 
Alliance was gone, especially with the increased trade in fissionables keeping certain 
political elements rolling in money."

  Redics and Garvin were silent for several moments.  When Redics spoke up, there was a 
healthy amount of respect in his voice.  "That's impressive.  You took all that information 
and figured out that Dhewa was involved, and had agents working inside Yrboti political 
groups.  In a couple of seconds, no less."

  "It's only a theory, though," T'yonnosh demurred.  "We don't know if it's true."

  "Yes." Garvin put in, "we do."

  "You found the person Zanth bit?" T'yonnosh asked.

  "Yes, we did."  Garvin smiled.  "He outlined events for us basically as you described 
them."

  Now T'yonnosh's jaw dropped in a smile of his own.

  "There's something else I don't understand, though," Redics said.   "If they were working 
together, why did the Yrboti on the freighter kill the Dheway crew?"

  T'yonnosh's smile faded.  He wrinkled his nose, thinking.  Then he frowned.  "I don't 
know.  I can't think of any reason why it would be necessary.

  "I can fill you in on that," Garvin offered.  The partners turned to him as he explained.

  "Things started to happen rather quickly after you left.  Within an hour, my security 
people found an Yrboti in a sickbay on the station with serious puncture wounds in his 
shoulder.  They picked him up and brought him to the Alvarado.  Dr. DeRoslo confirmed 
his wound was a bite from a Peirythian tundra cat.  After that, it was a matter of asking 
the right questions."

  Garvin glanced at the long furred body lying on the couch.  "Your bite mark made our 
job much easier, Zanth.  We might still be looking for suspects if you hadn't marked that 
one."

  Zanth didn't answer, didn't react.  Garvin shrugged.  Zanth, he knew, was like anyone 
else.  He had moods.

  "Anyway," he continued, "once we had someone who could give us the information we 
needed, we were allowed to talk to Prulim.  As soon as she heard what he had to say, 
though, she issued an order prohibiting any ships from approaching or leaving the station.  
That's why we took so long getting here, by the way.  The Alvarado had been ready to 
leave for fourteen hours before we were allowed to break orbit.

  "By then, both our security teams and the personnel under Prulim's command had found 
at least twenty Yrboti from both Sicthamahr and Les Esthid.  We were able to learn a 
great deal from those people."

  Garvin shifted in his seat, leaning back and laying his hands in his lap.

  "It seems this whole incident was supposed to coincide with the arrival of the 
Interstellar Commerce Council's negotiators during the talks concerning the proposed 
shipyard.  The Alvarado's sudden arrival and the commotion that followed was too good 
a target for the Dheway agents to pass up.  They got greedy and tried to arrange the new 
ambush in a hurry.  What they hadn't counted on, though, was that the Dheway 
government is undergoing a power shuffle.  Some kind of built-in insurance against 
political stagnation.  Apparently there was no one in the Dheway government who had 
the time or connections to respond to the Sicthamahr's message that their schedule had 
been drastically changed.  That would mean that no one warned the Dheway freighter 
crew that their ship would be needed.  They most likely saw the Sicthamahr as an 
invasion force, and tried to fight."

  "That would explain why they ejected their lifepod," Redics said, coming up to speed.  
"Since nobody on Dhewa knew they were coming, there was no one to meet them at the 
border of Dheway space.  Rather than take an Yrboti-occupied Dheway ship into Dheway 
space, they placed a message in their lifepod and shot it into the Compact's lap.  Then 
they hid in the nearby star system to wait for an answer."

  "Makes sense," Garvin agreed.

  The three of them sat in silence, considering what they had learned.

  "Dear God, what a mess," Redics groaned.

  "Yes," T'yonnosh said somberly.

  Garvin looked at the two friends.  He could see the exhaustion in their faces.  "Get some 
rest," he advised them.

  Redics nodded.  "I'll bet I could sleep for a week."

  "No," Garvin objected.  "That's not what I meant.  Look," he leaned forward in his seat, 
"you need some time to sort yourselves out.  Spend some time together.  Or spend some 
time apart, whatever you need.  Just don't show your faces in my office for the next three 
months."

  "Three months?" Redics began. "I don't-"

  "Quiet!" Garvin interrupted in a voice that would brook no arguments.  "Three months."

  Redics stayed quiet.  Garvin looked directly at him.  "Get your bearings back.  And 
remember why you do what you do."  He stood.  "I'll talk to you again later.  The 
Alvarado will tow you back to Outreach, so just relax and get some sleep."

  Garvin contacted the Alvarado to pipe him back aboard.  Before the transmat effect 
took him, he said, "And don't forget to get some borotrinalyn in you before you go to 
bed."

  Redics smiled.  "Thanks for the coffee."

  "Any time."

  Jim Garvin vanished.

  **************************

  Redics woke briefly when he heard a muffled clang echo through his room.

  He lifted his head, straining to hear any other sounds.  There were more, motorwhine 
and metallic thuds.  Docking, his sleep-fogged mind decided.

  Within moments, he was back asleep.

  **************************

  He awoke again, some hours later.  He was lying on his side, curled around a large 
warm object with his arm laying across it.  For a moment, he thought that Zanth had 
decided to curl up against him, as he sometimes did.  When he ran his hand up toward 
where Zanth's head would be, however, he only found the end of the pillow he had 
embraced in his sleep.  With a grunt, he pushed it away from him and sat up.

  He thought about Zanth for a minute, wondering when the tundra cat would find it 
within himself to forgive his hairless monkey friend.  A gesture on his part, as an 
apology, would be a good start.  He tried to think of something appropriate, but his brain 
refused to be drawn into any functions more complex than blinking and yawning.  Redics 
dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to remedy this shortcoming.

  As he washed, he remembered hearing the Ti Phorus docking with Outreach.  
T'yonnosh must have been awake to handle it.

  Clean and dry, Redics was disappointed to find his mind and body were no better off.  
He felt as though he had been encased in clay and only an outer layer had been removed.   
'Perhaps what I need', he thought,  'is food.  Or even coffee'  He stepped into some plain 
black trousers and headed for the lounge.

  There, he found T'yonnosh sitting before a workstation.  He was watching a news 
broadcast from the station that was apparently focussing on the events of the last two 
days.  T'yonnosh was only paying scant attention as he was busy running his best body 
brush over his thighs and legs.  The long, gentle strokes he used were soothing to him, as 
well as helping to remove dead hair.

  Zephanthus was lying nearby, also grooming.  Redics could hear the rasp of the tundra 
cat's rough tongue running over the pads of his forepaw.

  Looking over at the nearest replicator, Redics tried to decide what he wanted for 
breakfast.  Then he noticed the tiny ready light at the top corner of the unit was out.  With 
a sigh, he remembered taking the replicators off-line to use their processor circuits.  He 
glanced at T'yonnosh again, noticing the empty quick-heat meal pack that lay discarded 
on the table by his side.  The thought of eating one of the leftover meal packs quickly 
killed his appetite.  Instead, he picked up the flask of coffee and poured some into its cap.

  When he sat down, T'yonnosh's ears swiveled at the sound.  His head followed.

  "You don't look any better than you did before you went to bed," he observed.  "Did you 
sleep at all?"

  Redics swallowed a mouthful of coffee and nodded once.  "As soon as I laid down."  He 
leaned forward, elbows on knees, with his head hanging over the cup he held in both 
hands.  He let the aroma-laced steam rise over his face, trying to absorb its waking effect 
through his skin.

  "How do you feel?"

  Redics thought about it, trying to pinpoint exactly how he felt.  "Like I'm coming down 
from a week-long adrenaline rush."

  "Well, actually, you are," T'yonnosh told him.

  He was right, of course.

  Looking up at his concerned friend's face, Redics said, "I dreamed about Bert Landis 
last night.  Do you remember me telling you about him?"

  T'yonnosh's ears dipped a little.  He did indeed remember.  "Yes.  He was a part of your 
original team until he committed suicide over his wife's death."

  Redics rubbed his thumb over the rim of his cup, reflecting.  "He was sitting in that 
graveyard we used to explore as kids."

  "The one behind the landing fields at the spaceport?"

  "No, the big one that the Company dedicated...  I can't remember what it was called."

  "Where we used to look for our parent's names?"

  "Yeah."

  They stared at each other, a flood of childhood memories churning through them.  Pain 
and discovery, finding their limits and rejecting them.

  "Anyway," Redics continued, "he was sitting on the ground and singing.  I asked him 
what the name of the song was.  He looked up at me and said it was called 'The year of 
Naalema's funeral.'"  He was silent for a time.

  He took another sip of coffee before adding, "You know, I haven't been able to 
remember her name for years.  I haven't thought about Bert for years, for that matter."

  T'yonnosh watched his friend deal with the emotional turmoil that often followed their 
more difficult jobs.  Redics' current pensive mood might hang over him for a day or so, or 
it might slide into melancholy.  It was always difficult for him to find his balance without 
help.

  T'yonnosh had long ago found that, with a small amount of emotional support, given in 
friendship, he was able to nudge Redics back in balance most times.

  Other times, however, the weight of his responsibilities, and the consequences they 
wrought, threatened to push Redics out of the light completely.  At those times, 
T'yonnosh couldn't help by himself.  He needed to enlist the aid of others.

  He instinctively knew that this would be one of those times.  The haunted look that 
came to his friend's eyes, even after having succeeded in their task, spoke of a regret that 
could not easily be dislodged.

  Knowing his friend's need, T'yonnosh had made an arrangement.  A short call to the 
right person had brought an eager promise to provide the needed support.  He now had 
only to wait.

  "I had a dream, too," he said.  "I dreamed I was a suuthru herder, wandering through the 
lowhills of Kestchill-at-Toug Bay.  I was watching the sun rise over the Silver Thorn 
River.  The clouds were starting to light up, like they were stealing the sun's fire.  Even 
my fur seemed to glow a little, as if I had a tiny piece of the sun in me."

  Redics stared at him, then shook his head.  "You should have been a poet," he said 
softly.

  A start, T'yonnosh thought.  He shrugged, twitching his ears in mild humor.  "Tell that 
to Mus Alti."

  Redics frowned, confused.  "Who?"

  "My creative writing instructor.  Remember my last year at finishing school?  She 
flunked me out of the course.  Said I had the creative ability of a candied pear."

  "Oh, yeah," Redics said with sudden distaste.  "Her.  Huh.  She hated everyone."  His 
expression clouded.

  Dismayed, T'yonnosh tried to bring Redics back to the present.

  "So what do you want to do for the next three months?" he asked carelessly.  A little too 
carelessly, to his own ears, but Redics didn't seem to notice.  He was staring into the 
unfathomable depths of his coffee.

  "When I remembered Naalema's name, it brought back a lot of memories.  I started 
thinking about everyone I worked with in that team.  The things we did.  The only one 
that would still talk to me after Kersriall III was Tag.  The last time I talked to him- oh, 
four years ago, I guess- he said he had taken up racing solar yachts.  I was thinking I 
might try contacting him, see what he's doing now."

  Redics swallowed the last of his coffee and poured another cup.

  T'yonnosh rubbed his ears, hoping to hide the fact that they were trying to fold.  Redics 
never spoke of Kersriall III, except once.  He had told T'yonnosh that it was where he 
and his team last worked together.  Shortly after, the team had broken up.  What had 
happened and why the team had split, Redics adamantly refused to say.  Since then, he 
had never even mentioned it.  If he was dwelling on his past failures...

  "What about you?"  Redics' question jarred his thoughts.  "what are your plans?"

  "Uhh, I hadn't really thought about it."  T'yonnosh willed his ears to stay up on their 
own and put his hands in his lap.  "I suppose it would be a good chance to continue my 
cultural studies on Demrion."

  Redics voiced his agreement, then turned his question to Zanth.  The tundra cat's large 
gray eyes studied him, half-lidded.  "I want to go back to Peiryth."

  Redics' brows rose.  "Really?"

  "I want to visit my birth mother.  Maybe find a mate, raise a litter."

  The partners were rather stunned by Zanth's decision.  This was the first time he had 
ever expressed a desire to leave their company for a long period.  T'yonnosh wondered 
uneasily if the three of them were about to experience their own version of Kersriall III.

  Then the comm chimed.

  T'yonnosh took the call at his workstation.  As the news broadcast dropped out, it was 
replaced by the image of a comely young caniform woman with fetching blue eyes and a 
dramatic streak of black running through the fur on one cheek.

  "I am Noaru, personal aide to the office of the Demrion ambassador.  I send greetings to 
T'yonnosh, Redics, and Zephanthus on behalf of Nilway Dalthia, and a request for a visit 
aboard your ship.  How shall I record your answer?"

  T'yonnosh looked at Redics, who seemed reluctant to speak.  "Redics?" he prompted.  
Redics' expression clearly said, 'I'm not ready for this.'  T'yonnosh wasn't about to let 
things go that easily, though.  He looked to Zanth, but that one had nothing to say.  'Well,' 
he thought,  'no one actually said "no".'  "We return your greetings and look forward to 
her visit.  When shall we expect her?"

  "Within five minutes, if this is acceptable."

  "Certainly.  We will be waiting."

  After he disconnected, he turned to his friend, ready to reassure him that Dalthia's visit 
would be made in friendship.  Instead, Redics surprised him.

  "She's coming to cheer me up, isn't she?"

  Unprepared, T'yonnosh hesitated, but only for a moment.  He sensed an opportunity.  
"Of course.  She knows as well as anyone how hard this has been for you."

  Redics was staring into his coffee again.  He didn't seem interested in drinking it 
anymore.

  "Am I..."  He tried to find the right words.   "Am I really overreacting that much?"

  This is it, T'yonnosh realized.  Redics was about to make the leap of self-discovery that 
would allow him to shed some of the emotional burdens he unconsciously dragged with 
him.  T'yonnosh stood and moved over to where Redics was sitting.  He eased himself 
down on one knee and rested his hands on the arm of Redics' chair.

  He waited until Redics looked up to meet his gaze.

  "We've known each other all our lives, Redics, and I learned a long time ago how much 
you value your friends.  You see them as being the most precious things in your life, and 
that's good."

  He paused, trying to find the right way to say what was needed.

  "But since you started working as an independent for Garvin, you've seen how fragile 
life is, and it created this... need of yours.  You've convinced yourself that you have to 
protect your friends from any possible harm that might come their way.  What's worse is 
that you see yourself as a dismal failure if you aren't able to keep us safe, regardless of 
the circumstances.

  "You have got to stop seeing yourself as being responsible for solving every problem 
that effects us."

  "How can I possibly ignore-" Redics protested.

  "I'm not saying you should stand by when we need you," T'yonnosh told him.  "What 
I'm trying to tell you is that your responsibility to us has limits.  We recognize that.  You 
should too."

  Time seemed to stretch out, endless.  Redics felt paralyzed by T'yonnosh's amber-eyed 
gaze.  Inside, there was movement, an easing of his burden.  He recognized the truth of 
his friend's words.

  The change was not complete, though.  There was a binding, a sticking point that he 
couldn't pass.

  "Everyone's trying to tell me that none of this is my fault: Garvin, you, and soon Dalthia.  
Part of me even believes it.  But if it's true, then why do I feel so damned guilty?"

  T'yonnosh's ears sank.  "The same reason we all felt guilty to start with.  We were all in 
that hall to help keep an eye on things, ultimately to help protect those people.  But we 
couldn't.  There wasn't anything we could do.  We were as helpless as everyone else."

  They replayed that terrible event in their minds, each from their own perspective.  
T'yonnosh heard Redics' breathing quicken, saw his face pale slightly.

  "That's what you're really feeling," T'yonnosh insisted, his voice becoming urgent.  
"Helplessness.  The frustration of not being allowed to do what you had promised to do."  
The urgency built.  He grabbed Redics' nearest arm, squeezing it, trying to drive his point 
home.  "The consequences of what happened are not yours for failing to stop it.  They 
belong to those who committed the acts, the explosion, the kidnapping, the deaths.  It is 
their fault."

  Redics swallowed.  He took in his friend's earnest message, and saw it as truth.

  The binding eased.  It didn't vanish, but it became bearable.

  Redics released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding in a short, nervous laugh.  
He waited until his tightly spinning emotions slowed before he spoke.

  "Mus Alti was too shortsighted.  You have a true gift for words."  He frowned.  That 
wasn't what he had wanted to say.  He gripped the furred hand that still clung to his arm.  
"Thank you.  I feel... better."

  T'yonnosh nodded, stood.  He was gratified that Redics had accepted his words.  It was 
not always so easy to convince him.  He tended to discount revelations as misleading, the 
product of wishful thinking.

  The unmistakable hum of the transmat effect surged through the room.

  The two men stood as Dalthia appeared a few meters away.  As soon as the cycle was 
complete, she stepped toward them, smiling.  She bowed her head, ears forward, and 
said, "I welcome your return, guardians of my hearth and home."

  Although her words and gestures were formal ones, the partners knew they were not 
intended for show.  Indeed, Dalthia had little interest in the trappings and rituals of 
ceremony.  Her greeting was, in fact, a measure of her affection for them and her respect 
for their deeds.

  She confirmed this by reaching out for T'yonnosh, who was closest.  Reaching around 
his wide chest, she embraced him.  She nuzzled his ear briefly, a gesture of fondness 
between cherished friends.

  As she held his friend, Redics saw her gray and brown fur had been brushed until it 
shone.  She had come wearing only a light chest harness of tooled leather.  Such 
harnesses were what genemorphs considered casual wear.  In the center of hers were two 
embossed copper sigils, one bearing Sesh's family crest, the other showing her own.

  Looking down, he happened to notice the dark gray splotches in the fur on Dalthia's feet 
and legs.  Sesh had once remarked that they made her look as though she had been 
walking through a pit of ashes.  That recollection lead him to remember a saying; 'May 
you tread on the ashes of your enemy'.  He couldn't recall where he had heard it, or from 
whose culture it had come, but it seemed to fit recent events.

  Dalthia released T'yonnosh and approached Redics, reaching out for his hands.  Redics 
took them.  They were warm and strong, much as she was.  He stared into her eyes a 
moment.  They were light brown, edged by a band of orange, and they smiled with a 
gentle kindness.

  She pulled him closer and kissed him, not as a Terran would, but as caniforms prefer, 
mouth closed with the very tip of her tongue extended.

  Then she embraced him.

  Redics felt the brief warmth on his cheek, the sensuous warmth of her fur against his 
bare chest, the emotional warmth of her spirit, and he suddenly felt the dizzying joy of 
release.  All of it, Garvin's remonstrations, T'yonnosh's words on his behalf, even his own 
growing acceptance, all were justified by her simple gesture.  He felt it, within and 
without.  There was no blame, only quiet gratitude.  It filled him with a peaceful calm 
that he had desperately needed.

  He held her tightly for a second, then let go.  Her gaze lingered on him as she stepped 
back.  Then she turned to Zanth, kneeling.

  Zephanthus cared little for hugs.  Such an embrace was a fighting position for him.   
Instead, Dalthia held his wide head between her hands and touched noses with him.  She 
slid her face around, rubbing her cheek against his.  His heavy, thrumming purr spilled 
from his throat.

  Once she had greeted them personally, she spoke to them.

  "My family and I wish to convey our deepest gratitude to you for what you have done 
for us.  You protected us, kept us safe, and brought us back together as you said you 
would.  Thank you."  Her voice wavered slightly with her last words.  She was a woman 
of strength and determination, but even she couldn't deny the almost overwhelming 
emotions of the past few days.

  No one spoke for a moment.  Redics found he couldn't.  T'yonnosh could think of 
nothing appropriate.  Zanth saw no need.

  Finally, T'yonnosh asked, "Would you care to sit down?"

  Once they were comfortably seated, Redics found his voice.  "How are they?"

  "They are well.  Sesh is resting comfortably.  Kitress' surgery was successful and 
without complications.  He is going to recover fully."  She couldn't help smiling as she 
added, "He feels he already has, and is not happy staying in bed."  Her smile was 
infectious.  This was the best possible news.

  "Eight-year-olds are the closest we can come to creating something indestructible," 
T'yonnosh observed.

  "Very true," Dalthia agreed.  "H'Yannosh will have her hands full caring for him."

  "H'Yannosh is still with you?"  T'yonnosh's browline rose in surprise.

  "How old is she now?"

  "She is 109 years old.  She was my mother's nursemaid, as well as my own.  She is still 
sharp-eyed and clear-minded, though her hands shake a little."

  "I remember meeting h'Yannosh once," Redics put in.  "She was a force to be reckoned 
with."

  "She still is.  Though you might not recognize her now."  A small frown creased 
Dalthia's mouth.  "She has a skin condition that has caused her to lose most of her fur.  
She wears heavy robes and slippers all the time."

  Another short silence fell between them.  Zanth was the one to end it.

  "When can I visit Kitress?"

  "Soon, I think," was the thoughtful answer.  "They would both like you to come and see 
them when you can."

  "How is..."  Redics shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with his question.   "How 
is Sesh... feeling?"

  Dalthia understood what he was asking.  She didn't exactly frown, but her expression 
became quite serious.

  "He is feeling sick from the experience."

  "He's become ill?" Redics asked with concern.

  Dalthia shook her head.  "Not sick in his body, Redics.  Sick in his heart."  She 
hesitated, remembering the pain she had seen in her lifemate's eyes.  "After they brought 
Kitress out from surgery, Sesh sat by his bed, holding his hand.  When I asked him how 
he was, he quoted a passage from an old poem.

  "A mother feels the rains of sorrow mix with tears upon her face.
  A father feels the winds of darkness pulling at his blood-stained fur."

  As the two men absorbed the meaning of the words, Dalthia explained.

  "It was actually a war song written by a soldier who lived during the time of the Ruling 
Lines.  It was about a dead son brought home to his family."

  Dalthia noticed Redics was staring at her.  "I think I know how he feels."

  "Yes," she said knowingly.   "He is like you in that way.  He often feels the weight of his 
responsibilities keenly."  Her voice lowered, her eyes held his.  "Sometimes more than is 
good for him."

  Redics reached over from his seat next to hers.  She didn't hesitate to take his hand.

  "So I have been told," he said.

  She looked deep into his eyes, searching for that familiar light.  She found it, subtle as 
the graying dawn and just as undeniable.  She squeezed his hand, and he smiled.  "I'm 
glad you've found your way," she told him.

  "So am I," he said.

  Dalthia glanced at T'yonnosh, who was looking quite satisfied.  His ears flicked 
forward, thanks.  She nodded, then addressed them all again.

  "I have another reason for coming to you.  We are holding Ceetesh's Th'ummerris 
tonight.  We would like you to join us."

  Th'ummerris translated as 'Recounting.'  It was a simple ceremony held for the 
deceased's friends and relatives.  Those attending would take turns sharing their 
memories of the lost, the accomplishments, the losses.

"We would be honored to attend," T'yonnosh said.  Redics nodded his agreement.

  "Redics?"

  He turned to face Zanth.  His companion was looking uncharacteristically serious.

  "Yes?"

  "I've changed my mind.  I don't want to go to Peiryth."

  Redics hesitated, unsure what Zanth would want instead.  "Where do you want to go?"

  "I want to go with Kitress back to Demrion.  I want to stay with him at their estate."  
The tundra cat looked to Dalthia.  "If that's all right with you."

  "Yes." she said quietly.  "That would be wonderful."

  Turning back to Redics, Zanth said, "I want to be with him.  I miss him."

  "Of course," he answered.  "You can go anywhere you want.  I think it would be the 
perfect thing for him.  And you."

  "You are all welcome to stay with us," Dalthia added.  "I would like to make it an 
official invitation.  We see you so seldom.  I know Sesh would be delighted."

  Redics looked to T'yonnosh.  T'yonnosh simply nodded.

  "We'd love to," he told her.

  She smiled, then asked, "Will you need time to repair your ship?  We were told it had 
been towed back to the station."

  Redics grunted.  "I've had enough of trying to hold this ship together."  He though a 
moment.  "I guess we'll have to beg Garvin for some repair' crews again.  I have no idea 
how to fix a deuterium leak."

  "I know how," T'yonnosh volunteered.

  "You do?"

  T'yonnosh nodded.  "First you spin the ship real fast."

  Redics smiled crookedly.  "Wait a minute.  You're confused.  That's how you fix a 
cruiser."

  Dalthia looked bemused as T'yonnosh laughed.  The human promised to explain the 
meaning of his joke later.

  "Well, I'm sorry, but I must get back to our ship.  I have to make arrangements for 
Ceetesh's Th'ummerris."

  "When does it begin?"

  "In about four hours.  Don't worry, I'll have Noaru call you when it's time.  It's not very 
formal, so you might wear a nice robe.  Like the one you wore to the assembly."

  "Can I go with you now?" Zanth asked.

  "If you wish."  She spoke to Redics and T'yonnosh.  "We'll be in orbit for a few days, so 
you have time to prepare."  She stood, touching one of the copper sigils on her harness to 
activate the communicator inside.

  "Two to pipe aboard, please.  On my signal."

  "We'll see you tonight," said T'yonnosh.

  "Tonight," she confirmed.  "And again, our deepest gratitude."

  "Thank you for coming," Redics said, his meaning clear.

  She gave him a small bow and smiled again.  "I could do no less."

  After a moment, she sent the command to energize.  Within seconds, Dalthia and Zanth 
were gone.

  Redics sat down, feeling a bit wrung out.  He stared at the carpet between his feet and 
listened to the sound of his own breathing.  Concentrating, he could hear T'yonnosh's 
breathing as well.  He considered the philosophical implications of that.

  "Something wrong?" T'yonnosh asked when he hadn't moved for a full minute.

  "No, I'm fine," Redics said.  "I was just thinking how lucky I am."

  "Oh."  T'yonnosh let another minute slide by before he asked, "So, what do you want to 
do until we leave?  Some prep work on the ship?"

  "No," Redics said quietly.  "I'm going to let Garvin deal with that."

  He looked up at his closest friend.  "What I'd really like is to hear you play your 
tsunnovf.  I missed it last time."

  T'yonnosh grinned.  "Gladly."  He retrieved the long-necked instrument and set the 
plucking thimbles on his fingers.  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he caressed the strings 
building up the melody of one of Redics' favorite tunes.  Before long, he was immersed 
in the music, letting it express his joy of life and its wondrous possibilities. 
  

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