Gryphons
Chapter Eleven

Rating: R
Category: Original Fiction
Warnings: Violence, angst, some dark bits.
Summary: Out of the frying pan…
Notes: Part of what took me so damn long on this chapter was debating whether or not to take out some chillingly dark bits. Shane liked dark. She liked creepy, intense, stomach-turning dark. She was not a girl afraid of black water. I finally decided she would be okay with me taking the parts out, though I admit I did it with reluctance. After all this is her baby, too. I left in enough to get the point across, but… uh… yeah. No need to be graphic.
Sferkaan Dictionary: Kaisa (pr: KAY-sa) Noun. A long green vegetable rather like a cucumber. It is a hardy plant that grows well in temperate regions, often eaten only after everything else is gone, including footwear and the family pet. Has a taste and smell reminiscent of partly fermented cabbage and the approximate texture of a loofah. Immortalized by The Mortified Gryphons in their song ‘Things To Do With A Kaisa.’ Many people objected to the song as it only covered how to cook the damn things, not eradicate them.

The Mortified Gryphons have categorically denied their lead vocalist Mars David not only eats them, but LIKES them.

Morning came. Dahli stayed where she was. She was so hungry now that she was beginning to feel dizzy. She reached up to scratch her nose, and realized someone had untied her. She heard the sound of eating going on around her, and this alone made her look up. There on the floor was the bag of food that Pimple had brought the night before, laying open. Nobody made any moves against her when she reached in and pulled out a few items for herself. For the most part, the cell was quiet. Dahli could tell Tesh was getting bored with the situation, as were his little buddies. She was not certain what they thought they would get out of this ordeal; she recalled the request for the transport to the South Continent and wondered if they honestly expected to be given it.

She finished her own meal, and then pulled a few things out of the sack for Shae. As she set the food beside him she kept an eye on Tesh, waiting fearfully for him to explode. He looked at her and she froze, feeling a cold sensation run through her. Tesh stared back at her for a moment, then decided to ignore what was happening. Deciding it was safe, Dahli helped Shae into a seated position.

He was from the more southern reaches; he had the beautiful dark skin, the straight black hair, high cheekbones and clear blue-white eyes of people from the South Continent. People of his race had long been immortalised in fables for their great intelligence and cunning, a myth that had continued so long through the years that people had come to accept it as fact. Dahli didn't know if this was true or not. She tore a package of dried food open for him, and held it as he reached in one shaky hand to take some of it. She watched him eat and tried not to think about the bloodied mess that was now his face, or the horrific images of the night before.

"How do you feel?" she asked mechanically. She stared at the packet of food as she spoke, not making eye contact. Shae glanced quickly at Tesh, who was not paying any heed to them.

"Like clart," he replied quietly. "How about you?"

Dahli smiled slightly, humourlessly. "Like clart."

Shae ate slowly, his body too sore to allow much movement. By the time he finished, Dahli could tell he was exhausted. Carefully, he eased himself down onto the floor, resting so his head was near Dahli. Then he began speaking softly.

"I know this fellow; he's a friend of mine. He has a sign over his fireplace that reads `Clart Happens'. Well, one night I'm at his place with a few people, and we're drinking and carrying on. Now he has this exercise equipment in his living room, and he decided to work out. So he puts some weight on this thing, gets onto the little bench and hoists the weights. Problem: the weights are too heavy. We're all down the hall having fun and drinking, and he's in the next room stuck on his back with these weights on his chest. Matter of fact, they're so heavy that as he's struggling to get them off, he makes a mess in his pants."

Dahli sat unmoving, listening to all of this and wondering to what great end it was going.

"Anyway, a couple of us finally go look for him, and we find him on his back with the weights on his chest and clart in his pants. So we get the thing off of him and put it on the rack, and while he's in the bathroom getting cleaned up, we change the sign over the fireplace to `Clarts happen'."

Dahli waited to find out what this had to do with anything. When no explanation came, she asked; "So what is the point to this?"

"There isn't one. It's a story about a guy I know who messed his pants."

Dahli was quiet for a moment, then turned her head to stare at Shae. "That was the most useless tale I think I ever heard."

"Thank you."

She stared at him for a time longer, then laughed quietly, shaking her head. She reached out and took his hand, smiling as he squeezed it.

The days wore on. In other parts of the Centre life was back to normal. In here clart just rolled on and on, like a forsaken giant faecal lump down a hill. Tesh was King-Clart, Dahli supposed, and then there were all the little corporal clarts, and finally the prisoner clarts. Ris, who had been silent and terrified through all, was just clart. Certainly as the only adult Dahli figured he should have done something other than sit and look terrified. The clart rolled on, and the clart was mind-numbing. Fear had given away to boredom and frustration. Dahli was weary of the whole ordeal; it was time for it to end.

***---***

Tesh had left the cell, leaving Pimple in charge, which was much like leaving the ceramic feralyke in charge. Currently he seemed asleep; his head was down and he was breathing deeply. Dahli slowly stood up and stretched, keeping an eye on him. She had learned it was Tesh who had untied her for some reason; maybe it was his own lame attempt at consolation, she didn’t know. She did know Tesh would let her wander around, whereas Pimple wouldn’t, and if he woke up to find her gone he would have a fit. Dahli supposed Tesh knew there was no way for her to escape; if she retreated to her old corner she could starve, and if she tried to go over the barricade then she would be killed. Pimple just liked to bully her, but she needed to stretch her legs. Dahli glanced down at Shae. He was asleep as well, and when she glanced out the window she was surprised to notice it was dark. One more day gone. May as well go for a walk.

She wandered to the doorway of the cell and stopped, blinking. The three uniformed men at the end of the hall didn't seem real, and she stared at them, puzzled, as they made their way quietly along. They spied her a second later, their faces masks of apprehension, fearing that she would sound the alarm. Dahli looked back at them, then began to casually stroll away from the cell, making her way out of the line of fighting. She put her hands up to show she wanted no part of this. Once more, the men began to advance.

She was almost into the other cell when suddenly Cui bore down from out of nowhere, screaming. He had a laser pistol he was waving around, and he threw himself at her, throwing both of them into the cell Dahli had been walking towards. She stumbled and fell into the room, hearing Cui throw the barred door shut and fire randomly through it. The blue light of the laser pistol glowed momentarily, a silent indication it had gone off. He screamed something out into the hall and then laughed crazily, enjoying the whole disaster. Someone shot back, and once more the silent laser glowed its deadly illumination. He turned to face Dahli.

"Why didn't you tell me they were coming?"

"Tell you?" she screamed back, still sitting on the floor. "Because I was glad to see them! Unlike you I don't want to get old in here!"

He stared at her for a second, as though that wasn't something that had ever occurred to him, then spun around to fire his pistol once more. He hit one of the three men, and he stumbled back, screaming, his arm a smouldering stump.

"Leave me alone or I kill the prisoner!" he yelled wildly. Dahli wondered if he noticed that Tesh hadn't come back, and that his fellow hostage-holders had already given up. She decided he hadn't as he continued to rail on. "Do you hear me? I got a laser, and I'll use it!" He fired some random shots.

Dahli glanced about the room for something, anything, that she could use for a weapon. She overlooked the broken piece of shelving the first time she saw it, her mind not taking it in. She had to look at it two or three more times to realise she had found what she was looking for. She glanced over at Cui, but he was too busy yelling and shooting to pay any attention to her. She picked up the piece of shelving and advanced carefully. Raising it above her head, she brought it down on him with all the force she could manage.

Cui yelled in pain and surprise, the pistol flying out of his hand as he grabbed hold of his bloodied, mangled ear, the board having not quite struck where Dahli had intended. She saw the pistol land on the floor, and without hesitation she pounced on it, picking it up in shaking hands. The soft green glow of the computer cross-hairs told her calmly where to aim. She raised it and pointed it at Cui.

Pulling the trigger was an accident, a reflex squeezing of the finger. The blue light glowed silently forth, and his upper chest exploded. Suddenly the world was entirely without sound, and Cui's shattered form collapsed to the floor. She stared at the body, the pistol slipping unheeded form her fingers. The very world was frozen in time, stopped in its relentless spin as she stared in horror at what she had done. Slowly she sat down. Her hands found a charred, foul-smelling blanket, and she pulled it about herself, eyes never leaving the body on the floor.

A guard peered cautiously into the cell. She looked up at him, eyes huge and frightened as he slowly approached, his pistol pointed straight at her. He paused just before her, and when she made no sudden moves, asked; "Are you all right?"

Dahli swallowed, her whole body vibrating with cold and sickness. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't seem to do it.

"Can I go home now?" she asked in a quavering, dry whisper.

The guard put his pistol away and reached out a hand to help her up, leading her out of the cell. She was passed to another guard, this one a woman, and led out of the section, the blanket still clutched tightly around her.

The two of them walked along slowly, Dahli quiet and paying little heed to the world about her, the only thing running through her mind was the vision of Cui's body slumping to the floor. She was walked past the remains of the barricade, not noticing Tesh's dead body lying slumped next to it. She was led out of the nightmare of D Section and down to the showers. She scrubbed the dirt and oil from her body and hair, spending much longer under the running water than she would have normally. When she finally emerged, she was given clean clothes, then was brought to the Centre's doctor to be examined. She was declared fit and healthy, and then was led back to the point of origin; her cell. Crystal and Ember were both asleep. Dahli's own cot awaited her. She stumbled over to it and climbed in, flopping down heavily. Dahli heard the guard lock the door, and seconds later, she was asleep.

***---***

She never heard the morning bell; she slept through it as if she was made of stone. When she did awake it was early afternoon and she was alone. A quick glance at the clock in the hall told her lunch would have just ended. She wasn't hungry anyway, she was just tired. She drifted back to sleep for a time, awaking later to the sound of someone calling her name. It was the Center’s doctor, back to give her a more thorough examination. She slept through this, scarcely noticing it, her limbs managing to react in the required way. Then the doctor left, and Dahli once more slid into pleasant nothingness.

She didn't rejoin the waking world until late morning of the following day. She didn't exactly feel lively, but she felt better than she had. A guard came in with some food, and as she ate, she was also told she was expected to be up with everyone else the next morning. She was also told that after the evening meal tomorrow night that she was to report to the Wardhead's office. Dahli had little comment about all of this; she simply handed the guard her empty plate and flopped down onto her bed again.

An hour passed before Dahli recalled her letter from Draephus. She thought perhaps it would have been destroyed in the fire, but she searched for it anyway. She peered under the mattress, knowing that it was useless, then she moved to the small trunk at the end of her bed. Here she found her letters. They were scorched and sodden, the ink smeared and unreadable in place. She returned to her bed with them and sat down, turning first to one of Diza's letters. She quickly put it down, feeling a little ill. The happy, nothing-wrong-here conversation that exploded out of it was too much, like turning on a light after having lain in darkness. Czamkiar was much the same, thought not quite as bad. She decided her first thought had been right, it was the letter from Draephus she wanted right then. She sorted through the letters until she found the envelope with its largish, blocky letters. She carefully pulled the letter out and read it, then fetched a pen and paper from her trunk and began to write;

Heia Draephus.

I was going to write Diza, she's a friend of mine, but I just read a letter from her and it hurt my brain. You for some reason seem a little closer. You can write me if you want to apologise some more, it gets lonely in here. I can't say boring, or rather I won't say boring. I was bored just a little while ago and I got all the excitement I'll want for the rest of my life. Anyway, you probably heard all about that on your mile-high Visual screen.

So after I write this letter I will hand it over to the Detention Centre Office, so they can mail it after they read it. Then it will bounce gaily along to your address where it will get buried under a stack of other letters and assorted keys to the rooms of lusting women. What's it like being you? I can't even remember that it was like being me. I have a hard time imagining what sorts of things plague you, but you must have problems or you wouldn't be human. People mailing you their unwashed underwear must be a curse unto itself.

I'm rambling. Tomorrow I have to go see the Wardhead about all the stuff that happened in D Section. I did some stuff that will probably get me into trouble. Nothing I want to talk about. I'm scared they'll give me more time. I already have nightmares about never getting out of here. I guess they'll question everyone to find out who is responsible for what. All I wanted was a place to hide because I thought the building was going to burn down.

I have to end this now, or I won't have time to mail it. Maybe I'll talk to you again. And the next time Raski is picking on you tell him I said to leave you alone, or I'll mess up his conni.

Take care.
- Dahli

She read the letter over two or three times, then deciding she was satisfied with it, folded it up and left her cell, heading for the Office. She stopped before its wire-mesh window and reached up to tap on its frame. She heard stirrings, and then the dry, disapproving face of the man who held reign there appeared behind the mesh, like that of some bizarre zoo creature.

"I'd like to mail this," said Dahli. She caught a glimpse of herself in a small mirror just inside of the screened window. Her face was bruised, swollen. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin an off-grey sort of colour. She quickly averted her eyes back to the face in the window, passing him the letter.

"What is the address?" asked the man in a voice as dry and disinterested as his face.

Dahli read the address off of the bottom of Draephus' letter, the man writing it down on an envelope. He stuffed the letter into it and sealed it under the scrutiny of Dahli's eyes.

"When will it go out?" she asked.

The man glanced up at the clock on the wall. "In about two hours."

"Thanks," said Dahli quietly, and turned to wander back to her cell.

***---***

She welcomed the clang of the morning bell with more enthusiasm than she would have expected. As she dressed and shuffled out with everyone else to get in line for breakfast she welcomed the return to routine, the chance to get away from the new and ugly images that turned in her head. She hadn't thought about Cui since the night she had come back to her cell, and that worried her a little. She could think of the incident, but she could raise no feelings about it. It was as though a switch had shut off in her brain. She tried to recall what she had felt when she had shot him, but her mind refused to remember this. She was away from the feelings and images, left once more in the dingy interior of the waiting hall.

She got her tray full of slop and ate it. Then she went to the study hall and did her schoolwork. On and on the day went. She got a letter from Diza, which she read while down in the sweltering heat of the laundry room. When the bell announced supper, she once more got in line for food. Then as she choked the last morsels down, a guard came to take her to the Wardhead.

She was led down a hall to the huge office where the Wardhead held command. She was brought into the sprawling room and led to a leather chair set before the huge, darkly polished wood desk. Behind it sat Wardhead Shayer, himself large and sprawling. His ancestry traced back to the beautiful High Northern Sferkkaans, and he would have also possessed that haunting beauty had he not at some point in time decided he would much rather look as though he had been passed through a mill. He clearly drank too much, and the fair, delicate skin was a network of thin purple lines. But whatever his indulgences were, he did not waste time or words.

"Well, Dahli, tell me your side of the story. I have already taken statements from the other people involved in this incident, and I would like to hear your side before I make any decisions."

Dahli did, starting with awakening in her cell to hear the alarm bells ringing to the last horrific moments in the cell with Cui. It was as she was describing these events that she began to understand what she had done, and her voice faded off as she thought about this. Her mind drifted, and she felt cold. She thrust her hands between her thighs nervously, hunkering down in silence. She was oblivious to the notes Shayer was making. For a long time the office was silent, then he spoke.

"What were you doing in D Section?"

Dahli blinked as though awakened. It took her a moment to understand the question he had asked.

"I told you," she said. "I got lost."

"D Section is pretty far away. Why did you head for it?"

"I didn't head for anywhere. I was scared and confused. If anything, I was just trying to get away from the riot."

"And you just happened to get past these people and into the far end of the sector without them finding you."

"Yeah."

"Then you just happened to get caught by them when you were trying to release the guard."

"I thought I said all of this."

"Dahli as I have said I have also taken statements from the others involved, and according to them they were all under the impression that you had gone down to D Section to meet with their leader, Tesh Varian."

Dahli stared at Shayer. "What?"

"They all claim that he told them you had come down to meet him, and that when you all escaped, you were going with him to the South Continent."

"What?"

"Donselle Sandiniti, I’m afraid I have to come to a decision that you may not like."

Dahli sat on the edge of her chair, feeling ill. A clock ticked softly on the wall. She was so tense that the muscles on her neck and shoulders ached, causing her head to throb. She hadn't done anything, wasn't that obvious?

"And what is that?" she asked softly, trying not to sound frightened.

"That according to the evidence I have, you were no mere victim. I have reason to believe that you were involved with Tesh Varian and his group. In fact, he died asking for you."

Dahli was finally beginning to understand what this man was saying. "Tesh Varian was a lunatic."

Wardhead Shayer watched her though blue eyes, gauging her reactions. She stared back at him, frightened. She had thought herself incapable of any bursts of emotion after all that occurred, but she suddenly found herself living in a nightmare, and she had to do something.

"He was crazy!" she yelled. "He was crazy and you know it! How could I have arranged anything with that madman? How could I have even contacted him? Why would I have even wanted to, since I didn't even know him? Where's Shae? He was in there, he'll back me up. Get Shae Wharren in here and ask him about that whole incident, or didn't you talk to any of the hostages for fear that you may find out the truth?"

"I'm afraid we haven't been able to talk to Donsa Wharren, he had something of a breakdown after he was rescued. We had to send him to the hospital. He’s not here any more.”

Dahli stared at Shayer, then suddenly had something of a breakdown herself. There was a heavy paperweight on the desk, and she snatched it up, throwing it through a window and shattering the glass.

"I'm gonna lose my mind in this hole! If I die in here I'm going to come back and haunt you, you groutnoll!"

She didn't recognise the stressed, screaming person shouting insults at the Wardhead. She was seized and restrained, and as the guard held onto her the Wardhead read his sentence; she was to be kept imprisoned for an additional six months for participating in and inciting the riot, and pending the investigation into Cui’s death. As for the hurled paperweight, that was good for seven days' confinement. Then she was dragged away, still demanding to speak to Shae.

Dahli was dumped unceremoniously into her cell and locked into it. She stood staring at the guard as he locked the door, but did and said nothing. She was not dealing with the time she was just given; it was too much for her mind to cope with. Rather she concentrated on the seven days ahead of being locked into her cell. Seven days without having to scrub, wash, sweat, cook, or chip moss out of the masonry. With punishment like that she should have bounced the paperweight off of his head.

She turned to her bed and sat on it, staring at the floor and shaking her head. What had happened? Had Tesh really said all of those things? She supposed he could have, he had been insane. But how could this happen? Something was wrong, she knew with all of her being that something was wrong. She glanced fearfully about the room, as though the answers were on the wall. She wondered if he could do this, then decided he probably could. How hard would it be? "I, Wardhead Clart-Breath, have reason and evidence to believe Dahli Sandiniti, she of the dead body fixation, incited a riot in order to escape. Blah, blah, on-and-on-and-on."

Maybe he could do this to her.

She climbed under the covers of her bed, wrapping them about herself. Maybe she would get lucky and die, she thought as she suddenly fell asleep, leaving behind a situation she found impossible to deal with.

***---***

Draephus was awake and alert when Raski came in bearing a fistful of letters. Draephus was breathing loudly, but at least he was doing it on his own, and Dr. Arang was pleased with his progress. The mean look was back in his eyes, and he was bored and nasty. Even Raski was only met with a minimum of warmth; Draephus wanted nothing more than his own home and his own bed.

"Well, you are your usual charming gentle self," said Raski. "Glad to see you awake and bronchial."

The blue eyes gleamed coldly. "Did you come in here to force me to get up and strangle you?"

"No," said Raski, "To bring your mail." He tossed each envelope onto the bed as he read off the name of the sender. "The Systole Drum Company sends you their kind regards, never miss a beat, do they? Hah! I’m so witty. This is from some woman named Kassina, never heard of her, but the letter smells really good, and one from somebody named Dahli Sandiniti in the Second City Detention Centre. How come none of my fans write to me from jail?"

"Yours are all in the madhouse." Draephus started to reach for the letter from Dahli, but he paused when he saw that the perfumed letter was opened.

"Raski..."

"Yeah, I know, I couldn't resist. Don't know how she got your home address, but she's really demented."

Draephus drew the letter from its envelope and glanced through it. "Yeah, I agree. This is burning my fingertips." He crumpled the note up and tossed it into a wastepaper basket, reaching for Dahli's letter.

"From the deranged to the depressed. Girl isn't happy."

"Let me see," said Raski.

"It's private, you clart. I'm surprised you didn't open it anyway."

"Hey, would I open your mail?"

Draephus reached down into the basket to pull out the one Raski had opened.

"One letter!" said Raski.

"I hear about my letters before I get them, Rask. You go through my closets, my cupboard, my drawers..."

"No, man..."

"I caught you at it. You missed your calling in life. You should have been Legal Enforcement. Or a pervert."

"Not your drawers."

"Yeah, my drawers."

"No, that's not me. I go through your mail and your closets, but Khandi is the one who goes through your drawers."

Draephus stared at Raski for a long moment, who looked back at him with large, innocent eyes. He sighed.

"People wonder why I am violent. Did Khandi leave the pink panties in my suitcase before we went through border check, crossing into Telescheck?"

"Yeah, well, he didn't want them found in his suitcase."

Draephus was becoming annoyed. "Oh, wonderful. So there we are, going through border check into one of the most dangerous and unstable territories on the planet, people all over the place as we're being searched to make certain we're not carrying anything we aren't supposed to have, and out of my bag they yank these little pink underpants. Now how do you think I felt?"

"I stood up for you," said Raski.

"Yes, I recall. What was that you said? Something like; `Hey, those aren't yours, did you get them off of the little twelve-year-old hanging around backstage?'"

"It was an honest question."

Draephus said nothing further, reading the letter. Dahli had accepted his apology. If things had been reversed, he wasn't sure he would have been so generous. There was nothing about him being in the hospital, probably she didn't know. Detention Centres didn't let information in. Part of the punishment, he supposed. Let the little clarts develop strange new fears, like maybe the world had disappeared.

"Raski, what have you got to write on?"

Raski reached into his wallet. "Uh, speeding ticket, parking ticket, signed order from my neighbours telling me to cut the noise..."

"That'll do. Got a pen?"

"Sure. Want me to go away?"

"No, I need you to mail it."

Raski sat in a chair, the room becoming quiet save for the distant sound of traffic, and of pen on paper. There was also the distinct sound of Draephus’ breathing, a heavy, congested sound. He was still far from well.

"When are they going to let you out?" Raski asked.

"Soon. Probably sooner than they would like to. If I have to stay here much longer I am going to start killing people, you included. Let me write."

The room became quiet again, for about two minutes. "Hey, Draephus..."

There was a growl. "What?"

"Nothing."

Draephus looked up at Raski, who stared back innocently.

"I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to be nasty."

"I'm always nasty. What do you want to ask me?"

"Why did you jump into the water?"

Draephus turned his eyes from Raski to the paper before him. "I think," he said quietly, "that I was trying to die."

His pen slipped across the page, leaving a black trail as he drew. There was silence, Draephus keeping his eyes fixed on the small comical drawing he was creating. He heard Raski stand up and pace about the room. Boots wandered up and down the shiny floor, finally stopping.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"I don't really know," said Draephus, unable to look at his friend. "I just felt so tired. My family is dead or lost, Vesper is going to die, and there is almost no hope of ever finding my sister on the planet, if she's on the planet. Which I doubt. I think with the fame we have, she should have found me by now at least."

"Oh, quit beating up on yourself." Raski sat down on the edge of the bed. "You have no reason to assume that she doesn't want to talk to you. How old was she when she last saw you? Ten? What reason could she possibly have for hiding from you?"

Draephus was quiet. He didn't have a reason, just a lot of miserable emotions. He looked up into Raski's blue eyes.

"Why do you put up with me?"

"You're my friend. You put up with me."

"In other words, we're both too rotten to make friends with other people, so we had best stick together."

"Something like that."

Draephus smiled, reaching out to place his pale hand on the dark skin of Raski's neck. "You know, I should probably make some other friends so I'm not always dropping my emotional garbage on you."

"Wouldn't you need a different personality first?" said Raski.

"Wanna die?"

"Not especially."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Want me to shut up and let you write?"

"If that is physically possible for you."

"I can be quiet." Raski pouted.

"Oh, stop it."

A comfortable quiet fell on the room, Raski returning to his chair to gaze out the window as Draephus finished his letter.

***---***

Dahli received the letter from Draephus on the third day of her confinement, and it was like the most wonderful thing in the world. She was bored and depressed, and supper was a long way off. She had nothing to do, and the letter gave her something to fill her day with. She sat on her bed with it as though it was a great prize and tore it open, savouring the feel of the paper. She stared at the list of names in puzzlement for a moment, then turned the paper over to find the letter.

Heia Fearless.

I'm in bed, in the hospital. I drank too much and jumped into the ocean, so now I'm sick...in the body as well as the head.

Raski is here, he's been here pretty much since I was brought in. He won't shut up. He never shuts up. He even talks in his sleep. Raski Jervyas will have been dead almost fifteen years before he actually shuts up. I guess I had better strangle him now. Here is a picture of me strangling Raski.

I'd like to know why I put up with these people. Raski reads my mail and Khandid hides all the stuff he's too embarrassed to get caught with in my luggage. I'm going to write a song about those two can call it "If The People you Hate Don't Get You, Your Friends Will."

Sorry your attempt at taking over the Centre failed. Oh I know you didn't do anything, I know you aren't capable of something like that. Anyway, I wouldn't worry if I were you. Then again, this letter won't get to you for a day or two, and by then whatever is going to happen will have. Let me know the outcome, I'm interested. People seem to have a fascination with you these days; I guess you caused more of a ripple than you know. It may amuse you to learn that Khandid and Yuri are having rather heated debates about what you did, and how the situation should have been handled, and whether or not you should have gone to jail. Me, Mars and Yuri think they ought to let you go, and Raski wants to yell at you for beating me up. Good old Rask, I guess I won't strangle him. He's staring out the window, watching the people. Did you know he has a scar on his lower stomach that goes all the way down to his...oh never mind, here is probably a good place to end this letter. Let me know how things work out.

-Draephus

-Oh yes, people do send me keys and underclothes. They also send me naked photos, bad portraits and for a very long time after Mars wrote that song "Things to do with a Kaisa", people sent us various Kaisa recipes. That was a weird song, I hated it. Reading a cookbook at fourhour in the morning into a mic while high is NOT music. Don't know why it was so popular, don't know why anything we do is so popular, we're a group of weird people. Why do you listen to us? I assume you do, every time I see you you're wearing that tour shirt. Why am I still writing. Why am I here. Why does Raski Jervyas buy ugly shirts. Write soon. I'll send you a Kaisa recipe. I've got lots.

-Draephus.

She read the letter twice, slowly, then took a glance at the list of names on the other side. He was sick, sick enough to be in the hospital, but was apparently on the mend. She re-read the remark about the scar on Raski's stomach. She hadn't known about that, and she wondered how Draephus did.

"Send me a Kaisa recipe," she mumbled, "I hate Kaisa. I didn't know anybody liked that stuff."

She smiled at the cartoon, then set the letter down. She found a pen and paper in her trunk and began a letter. She's let him know what happened all right. They wouldn't let her see Shae, would not even let her send him a note. Dahli desperately wanted to talk to him; he alone seemed to believe her, that she had not been a willing participant in what had happened in D section. All of her thoughts and concerns came out onto the paper in a nervous flow. She wondered vaguely why she could tell him this stuff, but she felt that Draephus would be able to more fully grasp her emotions. She finished the lengthy letter, then read it over, shaking her head.

`Fearless,' she thought, recalling her long-ago conversation with Draephus. `There's a whole lot of stuff I fear.' She put the letter into an envelope, writing the address onto it in her own fine hand. Then she sealed it and called a guard to mail it for her.

***---***

The days crawled by, but eventually her term of confinement to her room ended. Once more work resumed for her. Dahli found readjusting to the sixhour bell difficult, but she found it less painful than sitting in her cell with nowhere to go and nothing to do. She felt like she had once again become one of the living.

On her first day back at her chores, she was informed she would now be going to Donsa Newark for counselling, something she had pretty much expected. She doubted Donsa Ris would be doing anything for a while. She also found she would have some time outside after supper, and that made the day just a whole lot brighter. She had not been outside in over fourteen days, and her excitement at the chance to do so was almost amusing.

Supper took light years to arrive, and when it finally did Dahli ate so fast she nearly choked herself. Then she had to wait for the guard to come for her, and by the time she arrived Dahli was very nearly hanging from the ceiling with excitement. Finally she was led into the yard, left to herself on the wide concrete expanse. She stared upwards at the still-bright sky. Summer was in full glory, the air was warm and fragrant. Birds flew overhead singing, and a conni slipped by on the road beyond the fence, receiver playing loudly. Off in the distance loomed the city, more enticing than it had ever been.

`My nightmares were right,' thought Dahli, `I'm never going to get out of here. I'm going to die here.' She cast searching eyes at the youths in the boys' enclosure, looking for Shae. She didn't see him. Where was he? He must be back from the hospital by now.

She walked over to the fence, having no trouble at all getting the attention of several of the guys. As they approached, she said; “Have any of you seen Shae Wharren?”

“Nope,” came the response from a tall blonde kid. “Last I heard he was in the hospital.”

“I heard they sent him home,” said another boy.

“Home?” said Dahli.

“Yeah, he was pretty messed up.”

“Do any of you know his address?” she asked hopefully.

The boys looked at each other, then shook their heads. “Not us, but we can ask around.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

***---***

Dahli's first visit with Donsa Newark was right after the midday meal of the following day. Once more she found herself jogging down the hallway to keep an appointment with someone she much rather just not deal with. She wished she could just suddenly and mysteriously disappear. Anything would be better than going to see Newark. She had heard too many stories about the man. Already Dahli could tell this was not going to be fun.

She reached his door and tapped on it before entering. Newark was seated at a large desk across the room. The floor was covered in soft carpeting that looked new, and, unlike Ris' office, didn't have that musty, unwashed smell. Newark himself was a presentable-looking old man. He was clean, and the suit he wore, like the carpet, was new. His skin was darkish, his hair nearly white. As she stepped into the room, he looked up at her and smiled. She eyed him warily.

"Hello there, and you are...?"

"Dahli."

He consulted a book before him. "Yes, Dahli. Come sit down."

She crossed the room to the chair before his great desk and sat on it. She still watched him carefully, but she wasn't certain if it was because of the stories she had heard about him or if she was just becoming suspicious. She often caught herself eyeing people these days, when before she had just accepted them at face value. She had begun paying attention to voices, movements, and statements in a way she never had, dissecting people until she was sure she had them figured out. This was obviously not lost on Newark.

"My, you are a suspicious one, aren't you?"

Dahli stared at him a long moment. "Yeah," she finally said.

Newark contemplated her a moment, then consulted his notes. "I see you and Donsa Ris were discussing Faylans. I used to own a Faylan when I was young, his name was Buff."

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, he eventually died of old age. He was an odd sort, though. He seemed to think very highly of my mother, but he hated my father. Attacked him one day and tore a piece of his face off."

"Good for Buff." said Dahli.

Newark stared at Dahli for a long, questioning moment, looking into her distant, unfriendly eyes.

"`Good for Buff?' What is your reason for saying that?"

Dahli shifted in her seat. "Well considering what most Faylans end up being used for, Buff was probably justified in biting your father. No telling what your dad was doing with him when no one was home."

She watched Newark's eyes narrow. "Are you suggesting that my father was having sex with animals?"

"They aren't animals, that is so obvious that it frightens me no one seems to think so. And they aren't known for attacking people unprovoked. Isn't that one of traits that makes them good pets? Also they are fiercely protective of those they care for. How did your father treat your mother?"

"My family is not up for discussion here," Newark said tersely. "Now what were you and Donsa Ris discussing during your visits?"

"Mostly he was questioning where I got my bizarre ideas about Faylans. I think Donsa Ris was sadly lacking in his abilities as a councillor. Oh, we were also discussing my logistics for taking a dead one from the school and how my childhood influenced me to do this. You see he had it figured that subconsciously I was protecting my childhood self. I said `yeah sure' just to make him happy, but in all reality I was just so repulsed by the idea of dissecting a person that I didn't see how I had any alternative. Then of course I confessed the entire thing to the news media, so I think my motives were entirely political. Either that or I really needed the attention."

Newark concealed a smile behind his hand. "I see. And did you need the attention?"

"No. I just had some idea that I could make a difference. Maybe it was a useless move, maybe I just went about it the wrong way. I just object to the way that Faylans are treated. This is the same stuff the Grey Boys used to pull on us."

"But Dahli, Faylans..."

"Climb trees, eat birds, chew rugs, bark, bite, and if they get the chance, will present you with a dead smelly thing in front of house guests just to show they like you. No they don't make a very good case for themselves, but they have a great capacity for learning. People who have worked with them have reported there is virtually nothing that we can do that a Faylan cannot do, save speak."

Newark nodded. "All right, you seem to have given this a lot of attention. But having owned one, I can tell you that they are very strange creatures."

"Not on their own planet." Dahli had already decided that Newark was not going to be as much fun to fight with as Ris.

"I suppose not," said Newark, rising from his desk to look out the window. "Well, unlike your previous councillor, I don't think your reasons for believing Faylans are human are completely off the planet. But let us leave the subject behind for a time, if we may."

There was a small, open box of cigarettes on the desk. Next to this was a large and solid looking ornamental lighter. Dahli took a cigarette and lit it.

"Sure," she said.

Newark glanced at Dahli when he heard the lighter click.

"Rather defiant, aren't you? How are you dealing with life here?"

"I seem to get along okay," said Dahli. "I don't have any problems with my cell mates, and I mind my own business, which probably saves me a lot of grief."

"Good, good." He turned to face her, seating himself on the window ledge. For some reason, Dahli had the feeling he was working up to something. "Anything occur down in D Section you'd like to discuss?"

Dahli exhaled smoke, slumped low in the chair, feet out before her. "Apart from the fact that I have been wrongly convicted of being in on the riot?"

"You weren't?"

"What possible motivation could I have? I was almost halfway through my term here, and trust me, I'm not enjoying myself enough to want to stay."

"I believe the demand was for a transport to the South Continent."

"Oh sure," snorted Dahli. "I really want to go down there and join some mushroom revolution and risk getting my head shot off while a group of political know-nothings play `Who's In Charge Now?' And to think the Wardhead would let us go was just so far beyond rational thinking it was stupefying. Tesh was dreaming in colour."

Newark nodded, then said; "I see. Well perhaps I could help straighten this matter out with the Wardhead. Would you like that?"

She had dropped her gaze to the carpet by now, and she heard rather than saw him rise to his feet and cross the room towards her. She felt him rest a congenial hand on her shoulder for a brief moment.

"I could do a lot for you," he said. He was trying to keep his voice light and friendly, but there was no way to disguise the insinuation. Dahli turned her head and looked at him, a sneer of disgust and disbelief on her face.

“Now you’re dreaming in colour. I’m out of here.”

She left his office feeling depressed and exhausted. She resented being approached by the old man, and she was glad to wash away his slime during her evening shower. Maybe he could do a lot for her, she thought as the water streamed down over her face. She decided she'd let him know if she ever had an unbearable urge to be degraded.

***---***

The days came and went, and letters from friends and family were beginning to lose their appeal. They were full of trips and outings and happenings, of people met and things done. Dahli read the letters but felt only distance. She was no longer a part of what made up their daily lives. She was in the background, gone and out of sight, occasionally thought of. Their sympathy and outrage over the additional time she had gotten just seemed like lip service. She supposed she was being hard on them, but she couldn't help feeling bitter.

She thought about her letter to Draephus and wondered why she hadn't heard back from him. She thought about their tentative friendship and how it had begun. Something strange would come of the whole thing, that or it would just fade away, she becoming a distant memory and he just a drum beat once more. Dahli told herself this didn’t bother her much, she couldn't really expect someone like him to take an interest in her for very long. Perhaps he had already given up on her, and that was why she had not heard back from him. Still, she did hope they'd continue to know each other for a little while longer. It was kind of fun to admit she knew him.

Dahli and a few other girls were elected to do yard work one fine day. Some were to clean windows, others were to sweep out the concrete expanse. Dahli and her co-workers found themselves on their knees scraping small plants out of the cracks in the concrete so that it could be repaired. It was hard work, but it was outdoor work, and just being able to feel the warm breeze was worth it. She scraped at the plants, digging them up and dropping them into a bucket. She already had a few feet of crack cleaned behind her. Scritch, scritch, scritch in the dirt, her gardening knife making strange, teeth-grinding noises. Working as she was, her concentration fixed on her task, she did not at first notice the presence of the man standing near her. Then as she shifted her position, she saw the pair of shoes confronting her. She looked up and saw Newark smiling down at her.

"Having fun?"

Dahli stared at him for a moment, then returned to her work. "That doesn't warrant a response."

"I just came to remind you that we have an appointment tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," said Dahli, "after lunch."

"Yes, that's right." He fell silent, hovering near her. "Well, see you then." he added after a moment, then wandered away. Dahli chipped at the weeds and gave no indication of her thoughts.

She walked into his office the next day, seating herself in the chair opposite his desk. She stared straight at him, appraising his every move. He organised the things on his desk, pushing papers about, reading things, finally sitting down and looking at her.

"Let's be honest with each other," he said.

"Surre," said Dahli, smoking one of his cigarettes.

Newark leaned forward, his manner becoming serious, perhaps even malicious. A gleam came to his eyes as a thin smile touched his lips. "I can make things very easy for you Dahli. Or I can make things very hard. It depends on how you want it to be."

Dahli stared back at him, her eyes narrowing. She hadn't much liked him the last time she met him, he made her absolutely sick now. "Are you giving me an ultimatum here?"

"Well, that's a harsh word. I'd call it an arrangement."

"What if I told the Wardhead about this ultimatum?"

"You wouldn't want to do that, Dahli. You see, if your delusions get too far out of control, you will have to be transferred to the psychiatric ward. You may even have to be drugged to contain your outbursts."

She stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, huh? Now you're threatening me."

"No, no, you've got it all wrong." Newark smiled at her. "I'd like us to be friends, Dahli. Wouldn't you like to have a friend right now?"

She exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Got friends."

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, leather creaking. "Yes, you do, don't you? Well, as I see it, you don't have much choice."

"I'm not going for it. You can go play your games with someone else."

He was still smiling. "Oh, come on, Dahli, be reasonable. Think of what I can do for you. I could even arrange to have you let out for a few hours every week. You could go see your friends. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He'd never do it, Dahli knew. She's go straight to whomever she thought could do the most damage to him. People like him depended on secrecy. Dahli had no interest in making life easy for him. In fact, she could think of several people off-hand she would write to. Given half a chance, she'd go for his throat.

She exhaled smoke once more. "They publicly shoot child molesters, you know."

That rocked him visibly; he looked as though she had slapped him. Then he became angry. "I suggest," he said in a tense, heated voice, "that you take the time until next meeting to think things over. You'll see I am being reasonable. I could be very helpful to you."

She rose to her feet and left the office, shaken, angry and scared. She made her way to the laundry room, stepping into the hot, sweaty air and over to a machine. A bag of laundry sat before it, and she began stuffing clothes into the huge device. Time to write a few letters, she thought, time to stop this little game before it got too dangerous.

She wrote them that night. The female guard saw her up, industriously scribbling away, and was going to make her go to bed until Dahli said she was working on an education-by-mail programme, and this was the only time she could find to do the work. The guard relented, and said if Dahli ever needed any help she could ask her, then once more went on her way, leaving Dahli to wonder how some people could be so wonderful, and some could make a person want to give up on the world.

Dahli wrote everyone she could think of, and at the end of the night, she had eight letters together, most of them to people she didn't know, the Emperor included. Damned if she'd let this clart get away with this. She wondered how long he had been doing this sort of thing. The sky was beginning to brighten as she addressed the envelopes and put the letters into the hole in her mattress before laying down to get a few hours' sleep. She would mail the letters during her lunch break.

Days passed, slipping by unhurriedly, with calm persistence. As the next meeting with Newark drew closer, she began to grow concerned as she still heard nothing. She had mailed the letters herself, surely at least Teirra would respond. No one was answering her, not even to say they did not know what to do. Finally the day of their meeting arrived, and still Dahli had heard from no one. She felt ill inside, hoping that some sort of miracle would happen to save her.

The mid-day meal passed, and Dahli walked down the hall to Newark's office. Nothing had happened, no one had showed up to save her. As she stepped into the office and saw him, she felt a clutch in her bowels, her stomach was an acid knot. She walked over to the chair and sat down, gazing at him warily. He had something before him on his desk which he was reading. He did not seem to notice her yet. He drew on his cigarette and exhaled, finally looking up at her. He studied Dahli for a long moment, then reached down and picked up the collection of papers he had been reading. They were her letters

***---***

The local media were everywhere. They were the first thing Draephus saw as he came out of the hospital, leaning on Raski's arm. He stopped short on the steps and stared at them with unfriendly eyes.

"Who called these people?" he growled, coughing a little.

"No idea," said Raski, and Draephus knew he had. That was just his style.

"No, huh?" Draephus coughed again. He was finally well enough to go home. He could think of about three nurses who wouldn't miss him. He sighed heavily and let Raski lead him down the steps. He could have happily picked a fight with the entire world.

One of the media people actually got up the courage to approach Draephus. He hadn't ever hit a reporter, but he was very good at making them think he would. He and Raski breezed passed the groups of people, Draephus not interested in speaking to any of them. Then he heard someone ask if he had any comments.

"Yeah," he said. "Stay out of the water, that clart will kill you."

"That's not nice," said Raski.

"Who are you, my mother?"

"I thought I was your wife."

"Šukat you and the entire universe."

"He's fine!" someone yelled in the background. "Let's go!"

Draephus ignored the remark and followed Raski over to his black vehicle. Sand leaked out of the coat at a steady rate, and there were small bits of sea weed clinging, dried, to the fabric.

"Where are we going?" asked Draephus. He got into the conni and slumped into the seat, ocean-scented coat wrapped about him.

"Home," said Raski. "Where do you think I am going to take you? Dancing? You just got out of the hospital."

"I don't want to go home."

Raski expertly handled the high-performance vehicle, taking it onto the road and speeding away from the hospital. "You're in no shape to go anywhere else."

"Oh, come on Raski, stop treating me like you're my mother."

"Gladly, when you stop acting like it."

"Delaes is throwing a party at his home in Avalair." Draephus searched for cigarettes, but found Raski had taken them. "Let's go there."

Raski found this becoming annoying quickly. "No. You just got out of the hospital."

"Oh, I know that, let it go, will you?"

The conni pulled to a violent halt. Both were jolted in their seats and the door on Draephus' side flew open as Raski slammed his hand onto the automatic switch.

"Oh, that's just great!" he yelled into Draephus' shocked face. "You telling me to let it go. You're a fine one for letting things go, aren't you? Donsa Drunk-for-four-days. Picking fights, ruining your conni, drowning yourself in the ocean. Don't hand me your unused advice, not to the guy who ends up cleaning your emotional messes. Telcom calls at fourhour in the morning. `Raski I'm drunk, I'm sick, I got beat up.' I'm tired of watching you die by degrees, so either shut up and let me take you home or you can get out and walk to Avalair."

Draephus stared at Raski, astounded. He was unable to utter a sound. Raski had always given in to him before, he certainly had never turned around and yelled at him. This was an entirely new experience. The two faced each other, Raski trembling slightly.

`He means it,' thought Draephus, `he'll throw me onto the street if I try to get him to go to that party.' He stared at his friend a moment longer, then backed down himself.

"Maybe I'll just connect the telcom to the Visual and call him from home," said Draephus.

"We can do that," said Raski. He closed the conni door, and they continued on their way.

"Have you seen any letters from Dahli lately?" Draephus asked quietly.

"No," said Raski in an equally quiet tone.

"She should have written back by now. Maybe she doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

"Well, I doubt that," said Raski. He glanced over at Draephus, who looked like he was feeling pretty sorry for himself. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Okay?"

There was a pause. "I've never been so shocked in my life."

Raski screamed with laughter, and Draephus cringed at the sound, despite the grin on his own face. Years of close acquaintance still hadn't accustomed him to that laugh.

"Come on, old man," said Raski. "Let's get home and call Delaes. Maybe there will be a letter there from your little friend. Here's a thought, if you're really that concerned, we can drive out to the detention centre one day and see her."

"Yeah, all right," said Draephus, then smiled faintly. “Pull over for a sec.”

Raski shrugged and did so, turning to face Draephus. “Okay. What?”

Draephus gently took his head between his hands and kissed him softly, loving the way Raski seemed to melt beneath him. He stroked the silky black hair, drawing him close, feeling every nerve in his body come alive. He wanted him so badly…

The kiss ended, and Raski drew back, eyes lidded, panting softly. “What was that for?”

Draephus smiled. “No damn reason at all.”

They pulled up before the great castle, Draephus slowly getting out of the polished black vehicle. He grinned as he heard an inquisitive yip from within the castle. He cleared his throat several times before he could draw in enough breath to call out.

“T’niski!”

Raski listened as the Faylans in the castle went mad, screaming and calling, running back and forth. He sighed.

“Did you have to whip them into a frenzy?”

“Doesn’t take much to whip a Faylan into a frenzy, Rask.”

He began walking towards the castle, moving slow, breathing loudly. Raski hurried to his side and put his arm around him, kissing his face.

“They’re going to knock you onto your butt, you know that.”

Draephus grinned. “Yeah.” He looked at Raski. “Stay the night?”

“I don’t know, we said we’d wait.”

Draephus coughed. “Come on, what am I going to do? I just got out of the hospital.”

“Okay. But please don’t put me in a situation where I have to say ‘no’. I really don’t know if I have the strength right now.”

Draephus kissed his temple. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Rask.” He nuzzled him softly. “I love you too much.”

They reached the door and braced themselves, wincing in anticipation. Then Raski yanked the door open and a pair of red blurs shot passed them. They tore over to the car and landed on it, looking around, puzzled. Draephus laughed.

“Over here, ya morons.”

The Faylans tore straight for him, landing on him, Bacca biting onto his coat collar and chewing, making worried sounds, while Czanda barked explosively, leaping straight up and down, hair flying, clearing at least seven feet with each vertical bounce.

“What’s it like with an entire tribe of these things?” asked Raski.

“Insanity,” said Draephus. “I’d love to have more. I’d have to import them, though. Don’t like the Faylans they have up here. They act too much like pets. I like these guys. Jungle-raised. They still have their brains.”

Raski watched as Czanda accidentally bounced himself off the bridge and into the moat. “Yeah real geniuses. Won’t these two have offspring? They are hermaphrodites; you’d think one of them would have had a baby by now.”

“They won’t breed because their fertility cycle is controlled by external forces. Faylans take a year to make a baby. They mate when the temperature gets above a certain point, usually mid-spring. That way the babies will be born in mid-spring and there will be plenty of food available in the coming months. Trouble is we are rather far North. And South Continent spring is much warmer and wetter than any weather we get here. We need heat and we need humidity to make a baby Faylan.”

“Oh, the same thing we need to help you get better.”

Draephus paused, and turned to look at Raski, still holding Bacca. “Raski have you ever seen Faylans mate? Better question – have you ever heard Faylans mate?”

“No.”

Draephus giggled. It was a creepy sound. The only time Draephus giggled was when something unpleasant was about to occur.

“We’ll see if we can get them to do it in the recording studio.”

“Why do I have the feeling this will be one the next album?”

“I dunno, because you’re psychic? C’mon Czanda you goof!”

Czanda managed to get out of the moat and stopped on the edge, wet and mucky. He then proceeded to roll around on the grass to get clean before leaping back into the moat to chase the ducks. Raski gave Draephus a sidelong look.

“I have to ask. What do you keep these things for?”

“Are you kidding? These are good jungle-raised Faylans! They’re security.”

“Lover I hate to break this to you but I have crept into your house plenty of times, and they watched. In one instance they even helped.”

“But they know you and they know you’re welcome.”

“Draephus those Faylans couldn’t protect you from anything more dangerous than a fish sandwich.”

Draephus grinned. “You think so.” He looked around, spying a small deer grazing near the moat. “How far away would say that deer is?”

Raski shrugged. “Twenty-five, maybe thirty feet. Why?”

Draephus turned Bacca so he could see the deer, then said quietly into his ear; “Fetch.”

Bacca leapt, uncoiling like a spring and clearing the distance between himself and the deer, landing on the creature before it had a chance to react, killing it with the impact of his body. He then picked the deer up and paraded proudly back to his master with it. Draephus accepted the prize and looked at Raski.

“Like a bullet to the head,” said Draephus, showing him the broken deer. “They go for the face, catch you by the jaw or the throat and throw you backwards, snapping your neck or spine. At the very least they will peel your face fight off your skull.” He grinned. “Like I said, good jungle-raised Faylans.” He looked down at Bacca. “Now let’s go clean this and give you your share.”

The telcom was blinking softly when Draephus walked into the main room of his castle, indicating messages had been recorded onto the silver cylinder inserted into the receiver. Draephus set Bacca down to take the cylinder out and carried it over to the Visual, plugging it into a slot behind the sheet of glass while Raski took the deer into the kitchen to gut.

“What do I give him?” Raski called.

“The heart and the liver,” said Draephus as he waited to see who had called.

The first message was from Delaes, calling to ask if he was really in the hospital, then deciding Draephus was since he had not answered the com. Khandid called, and then an old friend, Shaktra Mannis. She left her com number, Draephus writing it down. Shaktra talked on for a while, letting Draephus know what she and her husband had been up to, then bowed out, saying someone else wanted to talk to him. Then, onto the screen of the Visual walked Vesper. Draephus sat up with a jolt, staring at the small man who seated himself before the Visual to record his message.

"Hi there. Just called to see how you are, but I think you're still in the hospital. I found out you were sick from Delaes. I called him when I could not reach you. He said..." Vesper paused to draw in a lungful of air. "`Vesper darling so good to hear from you terribly sorry about Draephus oh but you haven't heard he is in the hospital but he should be fine so don't worry you know he jumped into the ocean coat and all probably the closest to a wash that thing has ever had.'"

Vesper grinned fondly at the face of the man he could not see, indigo eyes warm and affectionate from behind the black-rimmed glasses. "Hope you're feeling better. I'm in Anth right now, as you probably guessed because I'm at Shaktra's house. Tomorrow I'll be heading into the deep jungle for the mountains, me, my pack beast and four of the locals. I'll call you when I reach Trelf, which is a village just a few days hike from here. Take care. I love you."

The screen went black. Draephus erased the cylinder, replacing it in the com. "Delaes couldn't keep his mouth shut if it was sewn," he mumbled. He inserted a thin plug at the back of the com into the Visual, then dialled Delaes' number. A moment later a torrent of noise blared out of the screen. Draephus turned down the party.

"Draephus!" screamed Delaes in delight. "So good to see you oh look you're home how long have you been out so glad to see you feeling better wish you were here Mars is he was dancing on the table a moment ago he's still there but he seems to have misplaced his clothes oh well that happens I suppose."

`It certainly does at the parties you throw,' thought Draephus. "Hi Delaes! Raski wouldn't let me come, so I thought I'd call and watch. Who's there?"

"Everyone but you Anazampini is here all five of them you know those are the five meanest women I have ever encountered Rhaksault showed too but that's all right Vortex even came but I don't think they're having a good time everyone is avoiding them but you know for all that horrible sugar-coated music they write you think they'd try to make up for it by at least being interesting people and I called Harli but he couldn't make it you know the biggest problem I had throwing this party was finding a band to play." Delaes howled with laughter.

Draephus grinned, relaxing in his chair, watching the party. Raski was right, he decided. He was better off home.

Raski had checked the mail while Draephus had been talking to Delaes, but had found no letters from Dahli. There was a lot of other stuff jammed into the small mail box, but not one letter from the Detention Centre. Raski carried the letters and bills into the main room, along with the tea he had made, setting these onto a table next to Draephus' chair.

"She didn't write," said Raski.

Draephus sorted through the letters, then dropped them once more, sighing. "That really bothers me," he said. "I'm not sure why, but it does. What have you got to write on?"

Raski grinned, reaching into a pocket and pulling out some heavy, cream-coloured paper and matching envelopes, as well as a pen.

"Writing paper!" He passed these to Draephus, then turned his eyes to the screen. "Is that our own dear Mars running about unclad?"

"It is. I always knew he was too polite and quiet to be believable. I'm recording the party, so we can lift out the good bits and play them on his birthday."

Draephus began to write, thinking about Dahli and wondering why it bothered him so much that he had not heard from her. Perhaps too many years of fear had made him overly suspicious, he didn't know what was nagging at him. He glanced over at Raski, watching him for a moment. After he was in bed, Draephus would call some friends, some of his acquaintances from his days in the Cylinder. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about, but there was no use in taking any chances, and there was no one like an old South Continent drug-runner for getting things done. Draephus did not know if he would need Tricale or not, but his instincts told him something strange was happening. Best to be prepared.

The telcom rang, and Draephus signalled to Delaes to wait a moment. He turned down the Visual, then switched to another line.

"Heia," he said.

There was a pause, then a vaguely familiar female voice said; "Heia, Draephus?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Teirra Sandiniti."

Draephus looked at the com. "Heia. I thought I knew your voice. How's Dahli?"

Raski paused as he heard the conversation, listening from his perch on the couch.

"Well, that was what I was calling to ask you. I know she was writing you, so I thought perhaps you may have heard from her."

Draephus glanced significantly at Raski. "No, she hasn't written me for a while, not since shortly after the riot. But then I didn't think that much of it," he lied. "She doesn't really know me."

"Well that is really strange. Her friends Diza and Czamkiar have not heard from her either. I wonder if something is wrong."

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Draephus with a casualness he did not feel. "She may have just not gotten around to it. Have you been up to see her?"

"I went once, but they said that she was with her counsellor and I would have to come back. I'm going again in the morning."

"I'm sure she's fine," said Draephus. "The Centre would have called if anything was wrong."

"I suppose," said Teirra dubiously. "Well, thanks for letting me bother you. Hope you're feeling better." Then she was gone. Raski and Draephus looked at each other.

"Well," said Raski, "my interest is up."

Draephus nodded, turning Delaes' party up once more. Time to call Tricale. Raski studied Draephus' face, then sighed.

"What are you up to? I know that look, that is the same look you had on your face the time you decided to creep into the Grey Boys' main headquarters and blow it back to where it came from."

"I'm not going to blow up the Detention Centre," said Draephus.

"What are you going to blow up?" yelled Delaes.

"Nothing! Just get that thought right out of your head!" said Draephus. He looked thoughtful for a time. "Teirra is going down tomorrow to see Dahli. I'm going to go too. And if something stinks, I'm going to start calling a few people from the Cylinder." He smiled. “And I will get them to blow up the Centre."

Draephus called Teirra back. The com was answered almost immediately. “Heia?”

"Me again," said Draephus. "I just thought, if you didn't object, that I would come down with you to the Centre."

"So you think something is strange, too."

"I don't know what I think," said Draephus. "But if we go down as a group, then they may be a little more willing to be cooperative, and if they aren't, then I want to be there to put my fist through someone's head."

"Not before I get to. Atterick and I will meet you there at elevenhour, all right? They won't let us in before then."

"Fine. I'll see you there." Draephus hung up, slouching comfortably into his chair.

"Well?" said Raski.

"Teirra wants to blow up the Centre too."

"You're not blowing up anything without me!" yelled Delaes.

Draephus grinned. "I'll call you if anything needs exploding," he said, "I promise." Then he called a number Raski did not know. Raski shivered as he heard him start to giggle.

***---***

Time passed slowly for Dahli, the days dragged by like a slug over stones. She had made one more attempt to write Draephus, saying nothing at all this time about Newark. Again he appropriated the letter, confronting her with it, questioning her reasons for writing the man. He tormented her with the fact that he had read all her letters. There had been some very personal things in the letter to Diza, but at least she had never mentioned the Faylan for fear someone may find the letters. Dahli wasn’t certain exactly what he wanted from her, other than to terrorize her. With women being is such incredibly short supply she suspected his grand scheme was to break her emotionally so she would become his loyal little puppet and then go from there. However there was just one small flaw in his little plan. He didn’t know her nearly as well as he liked to think he did.

She was in the laundry room again, washing more clothes. It was her turn to be there, and Dahli found for some reason she had taken a liking to this particular chore. Perhaps because in its own way, despite the loud machines, it was peaceful. It was too loud to talk, so nobody did. She was left to her own thoughts and devices, and she was always sorry to have the shift end.

She spotted the girl who had come to replace her, and Dahli dropped her load of clothes, leaving the laundry room still wearing the heavy rubber gloves meant to protect her hands from the harsh soap. The gloves sat next to her plate at lunch, oversized and ugly, a dull grey colour. Dahli said nothing as she ate, and her cell mates who were seated with her did not press for conversation. She had become morose and angry as of late, and they left her alone. Most people these days let Dahli be. She was an explosion waiting to happen.

Dahli brought the gloves with her out into the yard later, along with her bucket and weeding knife. She set down the pail and pulled them on.

`Good.' she thought. `Now I won't scrape my fingers up.' Once more lifting the heavy pail, she walked over to the wire fence. `Lots of weeds here,' she thought, then paused to look up at the sky. Dark clouds had moved over the haze, and the normally shadowless daytime had become gloomy and threatening. It would rain, possibly there would even be lightning. Electrical storms were brutal in their part of the world, and all of Second City had been built to take them into consideration. The storms had never bothered her, but she could think of several friends who feared and loathed them. Faylans were known for throwing themselves into fits of terror when the lightening began, and the great bolts of blinding blue-white power stabbed down from the sky.

Dahli set her bucket down and tugged at the wrists of her gloves to make certain they were on tight. She glanced down at her shoes; ugly, blocky things, but tough. Then she leapt, catching hold of the fence and going up. All was quiet behind her. She kept on, her mind surprisingly cool.

She was almost at the top when there was a shout for her to stop. Dahli climbed faster. Once more the guard shouted, and by now she reached the top of the fence. She swung one leg over, but as she moved to the other side, she slipped, touching the wire with exposed skin. She was thrown by the jolt to the grass beneath. She was winded and her ribs hurt from the fall, as did her burned arm, but adrenaline picked her up. She rolled to her feet and headed across the field, those still in the yard screaming their approval.

***---***

Teirra and Atterick waited outside of the Centre, keeping an eye out for Draephus. Finally, at a couple minutes past the hour, they saw his grey conveyance glide into the parking lot. It had been restored to full glory, and the paint glowed softly in the muted light. It pulled up next to them and Draephus got out. Teirra was shocked to see how bad he looked, reminding herself that he had only been released from the hospital the day before, and probably should not have been out of bed. His breathing was laboured, and she cringed as she heard him cough.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He shook his head and coughed again. From behind him two more figures emerged from the conni, and as Teirra saw them, her eyes became large and worried. The two men were both huge, looming behind Draephus like evil giants. One man was dark-skinned, his hair shaved off, Across the left side of his strong face were painted three stripes, and about his huge neck was a heavy leather collar. His clothing was a bizarre array of straps and buckles and chains, and very little else. On the inside of his right arm he wore a cage-like device, housing a heavy silver rod. Teirra didn't know what it was for and didn't want to. The second man was also quite dark, with his thick black hair combed forward into a fan over his heavy brow. He was dressed a little more conservatively, but not much. In the pit of his throat was a small tattoo, a bleeding flower. Like the device on the other man's arm, Teirra didn't want to know what this was.

"Do you get the feeling that maybe we leave Dahli alone too much?" said Teirra as the trio walked towards her. Atterick's eyes were huge. He said nothing.

Diza had been in Teirra's conni, and as she saw Draephus she opened the door and stepped out. Her facial expression changed drastically as she laid eyes on the two imposing-looking men. Draephus walked up to Teirra and Atterick, stopping before them, coughing miserably. He was much taller than Atterick, and considerably less healthy.

"Those two aren't friends of Dahli's, are they?" asked Atterick, indicating the two men with Draephus. He shook his head.

"No, they're friends of mine. Why? Do you have reason to believe your sister hangs out with South Continent drug-runners?"

"No, not really," said Teirra.

Draephus coughed again. "Let's go inside before Raski shows up and drags me off to the hospital again."

The group walked into the Detention Centre. The inside of the building had a strange, dry, sterile smell. It always struck Teirra the moment she walked into the place, and it made her nervous. There was something hopeless about it, something decayed. She hated the Centre, she would be glad when Dahli was out of it. They walked into an office, a small wood-panelled box that scarcely held the crowd. From behind a desk a thin man looked up at them, then turned slightly pale.

"May I help you?"

Teirra pushed her way past Draephus and his two unnamed monsters. "We're here to see Dahli Sandiniti," said Teirra. The small man looked relieved that it was nothing more than a visit.

"I'll send someone for her right now." He pushed a square on the desk.

There was a thin whine, then a voice said; "Yeah?"

"Historius, can you please bring Dahli here, please? She has some..." the man looked at Draephus and his buddies, "friends here to see her."

The intercom switched off, and the small man indicated a door for the six to go through. "We'll bring her in just a moment."

They walked into the visiting room, positioning themselves in various seats. Draephus coughed, then said something to the man next to him. Teirra jumped at the sound of the strange language, listening as the man answered him. They were speaking quietly, in an eerie-sounding tongue, which Teirra had never heard. She assumed it was South Continental, she recalled Dahli saying he had spent some time down there. She wished they would stop it, the language scared her. They did not keep it up for long, however, they only exchanged a few words. Then Draephus turned his eyes to Dahli's young friend.

"You must be Diza."

Diza didn't know if she was thrilled or alarmed that this man knew her name. "Yeah, I am."

"Dahli mentioned you to me."

"Oh good," said Diza, rolling her eyes. "She's probably told you all the things I'd rather not admit to."

Draephus grinned. In fact, Dahli had said very little about Diza, but she had told him one good story.

"She only told me about the time you went into the science Duone’s desk and left that..."

Diza gasped, eyes becoming large. "SHE DIDN'T! I DON'T BELIEVE SHE TOLD YOU THAT STORY!"

"I thought it was funny. How did you rig up that water pistol to fire urine upon the drawer being opened?"

Teirra and Atterick were staring at Diza, who hunched down into her seat. "Dahli Sandiniti is one dead beaker," she mumbled, and Draephus laughed. The sound was not healthy, but it was human, and the tension in the room dispelled a little.

The door opened and a well dressed older man stepped into the room, smiling. "Heia," he said. He glanced at Teirra. "You must be Dahli's sister. I am her councillor, Dr. Newark. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Where's Dahli?" asked Teirra.

"Well, I'm afraid Dahli hasn't been feeling too well as of late, she asked me to..." Newark paused as everyone in the room stood up and looked at him. His manners faltered a little.

"The last time I was here I was told I couldn't see her," said Teirra. "I have had no letters from her, and I want to talk to her."

"As her councillor," said Newark, "I advise against it. She has been through a lot and I do not believe it conducive to her health to have visitors right now."

Draephus walked over to the man, standing before him. "Donsa Newark, do you know who I am?"

"No, I cannot say I have met you before."

"I'm Draephus CZimcocious."

Newark blanched. "Donsa CZimcocious. I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you."

"You don't have to know my face, just my name. Now that you know who I am, listen up. Either you bring Dahli Sandiniti here, right now, or my two friends are going to break every bone in your body. And while they are doing that I will com the Emperor to let him know that he should send some people down here to turn this place inside out, because a girl seems to have gone missing for no apparent reason."

Newark stared at Draephus, obviously frightened. "You can't do that."

"Can't I?" Draephus' voice was soft and calm. "Why, of course I can. Or don't you know I am a very powerful figure in this country? Isn't that what power is all about? Abuse? You're a powerful person yourself, you hold the line on a lot of young lives. Must get tempting to take advantage of that once in a while. Just sign a document, write a letter to the right people, and you can do whatever you want. But of course, you would never do that, would you? Nor would I have any interest in where you work and live in the future. These are simple times now. The Revolution is over; I am only a musician now. I have no need for underground warfare. I don't even think I recall how to make a bomb, and I don't care how you live your life. Now, why don't you be a good man and bring Dahli here?"

Teirra, Diza and Atterick were staring at the scenario unfolding before them. Draephus was smiling slightly, his tone congenial. He had not raised his voice once, and never had his voice been threatening. He didn't need to be loud and angry; he was content to simply be dangerous. Newark began to shake, becoming an even whiter shade of pale.

"I'll bring her directly," he said. "But you realise, I have warned you. She is not at all well."

"We'll take our chances," said Draephus, and Newark left the room.

He was gone a very long time.

Teirra walked over to Draephus and said; "He's been gone too long, I don't think he's coming back."

"I'd tend to agree with you," said Draephus. He walked across the small, dingy room, taking the handle of the door and opening it. Two uniformed guards ran by. The man they had spoken to in the office was standing in the hall, looking worried.

"What happened?" Draephus asked.

"One of the inmates has just gone over the fence. I don't understand, no one has ever done that before. It's an electric fence, who would want to try to climb it?"

Draephus and Teirra both looked at each other significantly, both thinking the same name. It was one of the guards who made their concerns concrete. He came running down the hall and stopped before the thin man.

"Cusmar," he said, "call the Legal Enforcement downtown and tell them we have someone loose. Several people in the yard identified her as Dahli Sandiniti. Climbed the fence in front of half of the guards we have. She's heading south across the island, probably for the hydrotrans."

The group of people in the hall broke and ran, heading for the south side of the Detention Centre. They were immediately confronted with the extremely busy main transit route. Connis and freight vehicles roared past rapidly in an unbroken chain. Draephus and Teirra stared at the road in astonishment.

"Did he say south?” said Draephus. “He must have been wrong, how could she have gone across this?"

Teirra nodded. “He said south.”

Draephus looked back across the Detention Centre, seeing an electrical fence surrounding the yard. This was the place she had been, it seemed. He looked back at the busy road. The guard had said south. Somehow Dahli had crossed that route; there was no other way to go from the yard. Draephus laughed quietly and shook his head.

“Fearless.”

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw