Helios: Welcome.......to the Unknown

[Helios]

Haha, well, 'Con, m'dear, I had photos to guide me. Lexi is quickly becoming my obsession while writing.

And I'm glad you like the Tanni stuff (it's called Pack, btw). I noticed a lot of people really like that one (Wes and his firebombs...) Thanks, Lizcon! I don't consider myself extraordinarily gifted, but I do have a way with words.

To Meraka: Sadly, Elf and Buck will be forever parting ways. It'll be a while 'fore they settle down to happy life together. And things are only going to get worse...

BTW, Tanni is one of my first red-headed characters. Just a trivia piece. And she's...a little feather-brained. But gradually she'll mature.

Now for the section right before the first part of Pack that I posted! Hold your breath!



It's one minute to 4. I'm starting to get uneasy at the dock. Mason and I are hurrying to finish early, but we're ten orders behind. We'll be cutting it short.
“Tanni, Marshall's coming,” Mason whispers, looking over my shoulder. I whirl around and find myself face-to-face with him.
“Hey, Tanni, couldn't help noticing how desperate you seem to get out of here.” He eases forward, face six inches from my own, grinning broadly. “I wanted to talk to you a little.”
“Oh, I can guess, Marshall,” I say, sliding out from in front of him. “Look, I'm busy, I have work to do, and so do you. You can talk to me later.” I turn my back on him, hoping I've communicated the message.
“C'mon, Tanni, just one nice question?” He slides his hands around my waist. I jerk back, knocking him off balance, and then scramble over the dock, putting it between us.
“Marshall, cut it out!” I say sharply. “I'll tell Mr. Satchthel if you keep this up.”
“Yeah, we're trying to work,” Mason cuts in. “Stop picking on her.”
“Oh, like you can stop me, squirt?” Marshall laughs. He circles the dock, his eyes never leaving us. Mason steps in front of me, pushing both of us with our backs against the wall.
“One step closer and I'll shout,” Mason threatens. “You leave Tanni alone.”
My palms are sweating freely as Marshall steps closer. I feel my heart racing. This is really bad. Marshall is 20, a head taller than I am, and probably three times as strong. He can easily overpower Mason and me. And wouldn't you know, no one in sight! And all the trucks are empty of people. How did this happen without us noticing?
“Mason, what's going on? It's so empty,” I whisper into his ear.
He looks around, and that's when Marshall lunges. Mason catches him before he reaches me and they fall to the ground, wrestling and kicking and yelping.
“Mr. Satchthel! Mr. Satchthel!” Screaming loudly, I scramble over the dock again. “Mr. Satchthel! We need help out here!”
Just then, Mason goes flying over the dock and into a stack of boxes. His body makes contact with the ground with a sickening crunch. I run to him, flipping him over on his back.
“Mason, are you okay?”
His eyes widen as he groans, “Look out behind you!”
Marshall grabs me from behind, his arms wrapping around my neck and cutting off my voice. “So you want to do this the hard way, Tanni?” he growls.
“Let her go!” Mason lunges at us, but I can't see much because my vision is wavering. I feel myself being dragged across the floor. My shoes scrape into the concrete. Mason's hands seem to be clasped in mine, and I try to free myself. Then Marshall yanks me hard and Mason falls and whacks his head on the floor.
“Mason!” I struggle against Marshall's arm, trying to reach my friend. But that arm across my neck holds me back. I start choking, a darkness in front of my eyes.
Suddenly he lets go and I hit the ground, tearing my hands and arms on the rough floor. I look up and Mason's head is near my hand. I reach out and touch him gently.
“Mason, are you okay?”
He groans and moves his hand slightly.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of booted feet echoing into the loading dock. My heart freezes; that's the sound of the Unba patrols.
“Ready for pick-up?” a distinctly Unba voice says. The patrol surrounds us, but Marshall seems to be expecting this.
“Yes,” he says. “It's not just the girl, like I told you earlier. This one—” he kicks Mason—“got in the way. Take him, too.”
“If you so say.”
Mason and I are yanked to our feet, our arms held behind our backs. I notice his face is pale, and blood is matted in his hair. My limbs are going all shaky and watery-feeling.
“Here's your payment,” the patrol leader tells Marshall. “Delivery in full.”
“You jerk!” I blurt out. “Handing us over like this! You're going to regret it!”
“Yeah, I'm sure your dad will be along to rescue you soon,” he says snidely. The Unba laugh along. My heart seems to sink within me, but anger kindles as well. What happened to me being the strong one? I have to fight this!
I jab my elbows backward, taking the man off-guard. My foot lands on top of his, and he lets go of my arms. I jump forward at the man holding Mason. But Marshall intercepts me, slamming me to the ground. Pain shoots through my side and legs, and I'm winded. I lay still, unable to continue the fight.
“A regular tiger-fighter,” I vaguely hear him say to the others. “You might want to keep an eye on her.”
Someone pulls me to my feet and hauls me to one of the trucks. Mason is dragged over and tossed inside. He hits the floor with a dull thump. I cringe, knowing it must have hurt like the ices to get banged that hard.
Then I'm hoisted up and pushed inside. I know I should try to escape again, but I can't find the strength to do it. So I collapse next to Mason and watch as the door swings shut, blocking out the patrol, Marshall, the dock—and my whole life up til now.
I feel like crying in anger and pain. But that's not going to help, and that's not what a strong person would do. I have to figure out how to get us out of here.
First off, where are we going? I hear the truck start up and begin pulling out. Staggering to the door, I peer through the small window. The loading dock is quickly disappearing behind me, now empty of people. I guess Marshall didn't want anyone to know what had happened.
Suddenly, a radio crackle echoes inside the small space. I whirl around, looking for the source of the sound.
“It's no good, Tanni,” Marshall's voice grates on me. “You're not getting out that way.”
“What makes you think I was trying?” I ask, locating a speaker. I move toward it, trying to find the camera that allows him to see me.
“I know you, Tanni,” he asserts confidently. “Which is, of course, the reason I picked you for this.”
“For what?”
“You'll see.” He chuckles. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It'll suit your violent nature.”
“Violent?” I chuckle at that myself. “I'm not violent. More like angry at you for being such a jerk!” I scream the last words at him.
There is a moment of silence. That's the moment I find the camera, imbedded in the wall so perfectly you would never notice if you weren't looking. They use them to monitor the shipments of weapon-parts. No humans are ever supposed to get in here, except for loading them. I brush my fingers over the lenses, probing for a weak spot. None.
So I do something I'd considered in the beginning, but only as a last resort. I make the hardest fist I can and smash my hand into the glass. It shatters, destroying the camera. Glass shards cut into my fingers, and blood begins to seep out.
“You little brat!” Marshall's voice sounds unnaturally squealing and high-pitched. I must have damaged the speaker somehow.
The truck jerks to a stop. This is the moment I've been waiting for. Running to Mason, I drag him over the side and prop him against the wall. The door rattles for a moment, then slides open. I'm momentarily blinded by the flood of light. I blink, shake my head, and see Marshall standing in front of me, his waist level with floor of the truck-bed. With a cry, I throw myself towards him, intending to take him down and then run for it.
But even as I jump, I hear and see a crackle of blue electricity. Then something sharp and burning plunges itself in my stomach. My body collapses to the floor and I black out.

PS: Next section of Elf Girl coming soon....got really bogged down last month...so sorry...

[Helios]

This is my last installment of Elf Girl until I return. It ends on a cliff-hanger...how delightful. I will be writing more while I'm away, so maybe when I get back I'll actually be able to post twice a week like I wanted to do in the first place. In any case, enjoy!

Stealing

Date: February 3, 4092
Location: Silver mine prison, Hecate Arrow
Time: 20:25 PM by Apollo's Chrono (01:27 AM by Hecate's Chrono)

The journey back to the silver-mine prison is conducted in dark silence. The cold, deep moans that echo up the tunnel chill my heart and freeze my blood. I couldn't make a sound even if I wanted to.
A large lump of aching pain has formed in my throat. It's the kind of lump that makes me want to cry, if only to ease the pain, but no tears will come. Instead, all I feel is the stale air in my face, the fear in my veins, and the tightness of the bruise on my back.
Buck is left behind to face her while I flee. Isn't this the way it's always been? Yet I hate it, hate it, hate it! I should be there to help him, to fight alongside him. That's the way it should be, the way it should be, the way it always should be...
The tram hits the end of the tunnel and I'm flung to the ground from the impact. When I stand up and step onto the platform, I notice the body of the guard I took out earlier-less then twenty minutes ago, I think.
He's dead. Stone-dead, his eyes open and glazed, his body already gray and decaying.
My breath catches in my throat-not just from the stench of rotting flesh, although that is quite strong. The scent of death, an altogether different smell, hangs heavy in the air.
This isn't possible. Not normally. Not without...her...
Icy chills race up my spine. I remember that when I was about to step into the hallway of the police station, a hand touched me from behind. Could it be that she touched me? I thought so then, but if she also touched this guy's body and it's now decaying-
Then how come I'm not dead yet?
I bolt for the stairs-as if running will save me from dying. As my feet pound a steady rhythm up the steps to the silver-mine prison above, my fear plunges into panic. I'm going into auto-pilot mode, which is usually what happens right before I start killing people. Fortunately, the building is empty when I burst through the door and into the corridor.
I check my watch: five minutes left before I meet Lexi. Perfect timing, I smirk to myself. But it's an empty smirk because the panic behind it is so strong and intense I can taste it coating the inside of my mouth like dry chalk.
The building shakes when I run-that's how scared I am, that everything rumbles from the fear pounding through my veins and into the floor. The strength it gives me enables me to virtually rip off the door off the administration offices.
Get the card, download the ship transfer info, get the identification codes-
The thoughts hammer themselves through my brain as I snitch an ID card from one of the lockers and download false pilot data onto it. I'll it need to pass the security check-points-if I get past the police cordon around the planet.
Provided I survive that long.
The panic grows within me, swelling like a flood. But my hands are firm and swift as they do their job almost of their own accord. I've gone through this process so many times, I could do it in my sleep.
The moment I finish, I rush out the door and head for the hangar bay. It's at the back of the building, which means I have a long, dark, wall-echoing run to get to it. My thundering footsteps aren't the only sound I hear as I zip through the corridors.
Cold echoes...they are the sound of death... her song calls them...the souls without breath...
That was an old chant I learned shortly after I came here six years ago. Or was it seven? I don't really remember now. Supposedly, the only time it's heard is when the spirit of death approaches. Not exactly a happy thought.
As I enter the last corridor for the final fifty yards of panicked running, the air strikes my skin as unpleasantly icy and clammy. I jolt to a halt as the fingers of fear curl around my throat, cutting off my breath, strangling my will to survive.
And then a voice speaks directly into my brain. It grabs my thoughts and refuses to let go.
“Don't fight me...welcome me in...let me take control of you...let me into your mind...”
Lethargy settles over my limbs. I fall to my knees, gasping and retching, fighting for control of myself. The chilling echoes ring from the walls like diabolical laughter.
“Come to me...welcome me in...I am your life and death...let me into your mind...”
Those words! I know them! They are the call of death!
“No!” I scream aloud, staggering to my feet. “Let me go! I will not heed to death!”
Another old chant comes to me and I shout the words with all my lung power. “Evil calling for release, takes my rest and slays my peace, flee away from me tonight, let me sleep without your fright!”
The cold suddenly dissipates, and I swear I can hear her defeated wail as the echoes fade away into the darkness. My limbs surge with renewed energy. I find I can inhale again, taking deep, life-bringing breaths.
Then I run again, my feet thumping woodenly against the concrete floor. When I reach the end of the hall, I slam up against the door and swap my ID card across the scanner. The door whooshes open and I nearly fall flat on my face as I fall through the portal. A moment later, I'm racing across the hangar bay toward a dark-gray-skinned sky-liner.
The entry hatch slides up and I dash up the ramp. As it locks shut behind me, I stick the memory card for the ship's computer into the slot. The lights in the cockpit come on, reflecting a myriad of colors across the silvery-gray walls. A warm hum comes from the engine room below me.
I key the radio and connect to the frequency for the police rover. “Lexi, it's Ashley. I'm coming out.”
“I hear you,” she replies. There seems to be some kind of static in the background, which is weird because she can't be more than ten yards' distance from me. The metals from the mines could be interfering with the transmission, though.
The controls become active and I strap myself into the pilot's chair. Meanwhile, the download to the computer has finished and the flight sequence is programmed for our departure. The ship hovers in mid-air, spinning slowly until it faces the outer wall of the hangar bay. The bay door slides open, I slide the steering rod forward, and the ship glides smoothly from the bay into the open night outside.
The police rover is waiting just outside, like Lexi and I planned. When I open the belly hatch, Lexi scrambles from the rover and dashes toward me. She's carrying a chest that she swings up into the cargo bay before hauling herself aboard. The instant her legs are clear, I close the hatch and pull the steering rod up. The ship rises into the air like a graceful bird.
The antithesis of a klutz, you mean.
That thought hits me suddenly without warning. It's gone just as suddenly as it came, before I have the chance to identify it.
Lexi enters the cockpit and plops into the co-pilot's chair next to me. “You have nice timing. You're right on schedule.”
I smirk. “Thanks. I work hard at it.” The ship moves off into the darkness, heading for the point of egress I marked on the ship's computer. We're skimming quickly over the Silver-clad Hills before Lexi speaks again.
“How do we get past the cordon?”
“I've thought of that.” I shift my position in the comfortably-padded seat. “While I was in the office, I downloaded an actual pilot's ID onto the ship's transfer info. We're officially a prison ship escorting a mine robbery suspect to Hecate Silver Bow-which is in the same direction we're taking to get to Vulcan Fire Five. No one will notice the deception until it's too late.”
“But I thought we didn't need official documentation,” Lexi says. “You told me that earlier.”
“I did?” I frown, unable to bring clearly to mind my conversation with Lexi when we were discussing our plans. “I guess I changed my mind.”
She leans back in her seat and folds her arms. “You do that very often?”
“Not really. Just sometimes.”
“Makes me feel real secure,” she says, her lips twisting in playful sarcasm.
I roll my eyes-she's starting to sound like Buck when he's in a good mood.
Buck...
My thoughts roll back to the events at the police-station. Fear surges through me. What if she gets to Buck? What if he dies like that guard I knocked out? Why did I ever leave him there? And his arm...burned...
“Ashley,” Lexi's voice breaks into my thoughts. “Ashley, we're almost to the point of egress.”
“Good. The ship's programmed to send a message to the cordon officials when we reach them. They should let us through. If they don't...” I leave the sentence hanging. If they don't, we won't survive long enough to worry about it.
“I'm sure we'll make it,” Lexi replies. She looks tense as she grips her arm-rests. “We've gotten this far. Luck's on our side.”
“Lots of people have gotten far enough to discover they weren't lucky.” I sound unnecessarily negative, even to myself. “Luck isn't going to help us now.”
“What else is there?” she asks, almost in a joking manner, but still with an edge of tension to her voice.
I don't answer. For some reason, the thing I wanted to say slipped away from me as soon as I opened my mouth.
The radar lets out a soft blip, informing me that it's time to start our ascent into the heavens. I lift the steering rod gently and the surface of Hecate Arrow swiftly recedes below us in a dizzying spiral of silver light and dark shadows.
“How long before we reach the cordon?” Lexi asks.
“Any second now. It's just below the place where the atmosphere trails off into space.” I tap the computer screen and bring up a list of coordinates. “Here's our destination.”
“Vulcan Fire Five,” she reads off the screen. “Tell me again why we're going there.”
“Black market. We need another ship. Even with the documentation I have for this bucket of bolts, it's not good for a long-term haul. It's better to switch ships as often as possible to avoid getting caught.”
She grips her arm-rests again in a nervous gesture. I feel bemused. This seems so normal to me, so familiar. To Lexi, who's probably been a law-abiding citizen her whole life, this new world of deception and constant wariness is thrillingly frightening.
I know how that feels, even though it's been years. When I first met Buck, I was just as scared. And look where I am now. Running for my life, unable to trust anyone, not sure if I'll make it past the next five minutes...
The radar signals again. We're rapidly moving through the cordon, passing a small carrier from which several squadrons of interplanetary rovers are emerging. Lexi is holding her breath, but I feel relaxed. So far, so good.
“See, we're making it,” Lexi says after a moment, letting out her breath with a gasp. “Told you luck was with us.”
Before I can reply, the radar flashes red and the computer's mechanized voice booms: “Fighter jets approaching in attack formation. Evasive action advised.”
I jerk the steering rod to the left, thrusting us off-course and almost into a spin. The radio begins chattering with a chorus of orders for me to stand down, cut my engines, and let the ship be towed in for inspection. Of course, I pay no attention to it.
“Ashley, they're going to shoot us if we don't stop!” Lexi yells in a panic.
“No worries!” I clench my teeth and grip the steering rod tightly. “I've got this under control! Just a sec and we'll be out of the atmosphere!”
“We don't have a sec!”
The radar beeps again, and the mechanized voice drones: “Missiles approaching from two sectors. Evasive action advised.”
“Shut up, you stupid machine!” I hiss between my teeth. “Activate the hyper-drive, Lexi!”
She stares confusedly at the control panel for a second, then hesitantly presses something. An alarm sounds and the ship tosses us around. If we hadn't been strapped in, we might have gone through the windshield.
“Not that one! Press the blue one!” I scream.
She hits the button without hesitation. A little screen pops up and asks for the coordinates.
“What do I say?” she cries.
“Copy'em down from the list I showed you earlier!” I twist the rod and we zoom around two of the fighter jets, narrowly missing the barrage of missiles that were rocketing toward us. The projectiles slam into one of the jets, blasting it to smithereens.
“Done!” Lexi exclaims. There is a ping noise and then the automated voice: “Hyper-flight initiated. Destination: Vulcan Fire Five. Coordinates accepted?”
“Yes!” she shouts. “Now get us out of here, Ashley!”
I'm too focused on what I'm doing to reply. The jets are trying to corral me back toward Hecate's surface, in an attempt to keep me from gaining freedom from the atmosphere.
“Clear atmosphere before hyper-drive is activated,” the computer drones. “Clear atmosphere before hyper-drive is activated.”
“Tell that thing to shut up!” I mutter to myself. “Why didn't I activate the weapons' system before we took off?”
Lexi hears me and gives a gulp of pure terror. Her face plainly says, “Don't expect me to know how to turn that on!”
I don't bother asking if she can. My entire concentration is focused on navigating us around the jets without getting blown-up or incinerated, or being pushed back toward Hecate Arrow's surface. I'm beginning to hate the very sight of that sparkly-silver sheen.
But doesn't it rather resemble that moon back home...what was it called...Is...something...?
No time to think of that either. Flicking my wrists, I swing the ship around the last of the jets and we burst through the atmosphere. My chest is permanently attached to my backbone and I think my stomach is lodged somewhere in the back of my throat.
But we made it.
So far.
“Hyper-drive activating,” the computer informs us through a whirr of alarms and flashing lights. “Prepare to be dematerialized.”
“Wait!” Lexi shrieks.
Too late. The hyper-drive kicks in so sharply I feel as if my backbone is propelled through my chest. If I could feel terror, I would be feeling it now. The ship seems to be flattening into a single thin line-and Lexi and I with it!
Then the starry view in front of me solidifies into bright white light. My heart jumps to my throat, the ship gives a tremendous shudder, and we rocket into hyper-flight.
Lexi is screaming the entire time, either from excitement or sheer terror. I would scream if my mouth would open, but my throat is closed up from the fear of being smashed into a layer as thick as an atom.
If this keeps up, I'm going to pass out from lack of oxygen. I'm not even breathing anymore.
My eyes close in sudden panic. Only one thought runs through my head: I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die...
The ship stops. My heart stops with it.
We're not rocketing forward anymore. We're...stationary?
At least it feels that way.
“We're alive,” Lexi whimpers. Her voice sounds so far away. “Ashley, wake up. We're safe now.”
I try to look at her, but my head refuses to turn in her direction. “Lexi,” I murmur. The word slurs past my lips, coming out completely unintelligible. I feel so flat and stiff, as if I've been pressed into a piece of cardboard by the G-forces.
“Ashley!”
She unstraps her harness and stumbles over to me. “Ashley, stay awake on me! Don't pass out!”
I struggle to open my eyes, to see her and let her know I'm alive. My eyelids come up halfway, just enough to make out Lexi's fuzzy outline.
“Come on, wake up!” She smacks my face lightly with her palm. “We're alive! We're going to make it! Wake up!”
I've almost got my eyes completely open. The feeling is starting to return to my hands and feet. My stomach is back where it belongs. My mouth is dry and empty.
Lexi rubs my hands between hers. “Ashley, you're so cold! What did you touch?”
“A dead body,” I slur out. “Back at the prisons...”
Lexi freezes. Her hands are trembling.
“Her?”
I can hear the fear in her voice.
“You touched a body that she touched?”
I nod.
“Ashley!”
Her voice is terrified, horrified, on the verge of sheer panic. And I'm sure happens next hardly makes her feel better.
I lose consciousness.

Publisher's note: The authoress of this story has just joined the Fellowship of the Ring. She will return when their Quest is completed.

[Ameraka]

Thanks for the wonderful chapters! They are worth the wait of course Both cliffhangers! And both Tanni and Elf Girl are unconscious at the end of them. Looking forward to more when you return!

[Helios]

Just a small tidbit of something new, since I haven't got any chapters to post yet.

Swish swish swish.
I hear the sound of her feet first as her long skirts rustle with every step. Then comes the sweet, honeysuckle scent of her aura, and after it the cool touch of her hands on my forehead.

“Oh, Lin, you're burning up,” she murmurs, stroking my face and brushing back my tangled hair. “Poor little thing. Here, let me help you.”

I can't speak to her, for the fever has dried my throat and tongue, but I turn my sightless face toward her, begging for the relief she promises. At first, I feel nothing but her hands cupping my face. Then, slowly, as her low voice chants unintelligible words, I sense the power flowing from her and into me. It's like the steady trickle of spring water through a narrow gap between boulders. The power seeps into me, cooling me and refreshing me. My throbbing limbs become still and relaxed beneath her touch, until at last there is only a memory left of the burning ache.

The hands slide away from my face and busy themselves at my sides, rolling up the blanket they had pulled back in an effort to cool my naked skin. In my childish mind, all of six years old, I wonder why their hands aren't strong enough to ward off the fever. Perhaps they just don't know the right words to say in that soft, singsong croon that sounds like a mother bird calling to her chicks. Maybe their hands aren't as cool and gentle as hers.

“I've come back to help you,” she tells me, and I nod, grateful and satisfied and not at all inclined to ask any questions about where she has been and why she came back so suddenly. I'm just happy she's here. She holds a cup to my lips, and I sip eagerly at the thin, sweet liquid within, desperate to ease the dryness in the back of my throat. “Drink slowly,” she instructs, tipping the cup just enough to keep the contents trickling in. “You're very dehydrated. You must regain your strength a little at a time.”

When the cup is empty, she helps me to lie more comfortably on the downy mattress, and adjusts the pillow behind my head. “Now I'm going to stay with you, and keep you company,” she says, and there is a smile in her voice. I nod back, and give a little cough of pleasure from deep within my throat.

She begins to talk, stroking my hand as she does so, her peaceful tones drifting into my ears as if from across a meadow. The wind catches them and carries them away so that I hear mere snatches of what is said. A few phrases come, complete and clear: “The boy will come, and you will care for him. He is the most important person in the world to you.”

I don't know what boy she means—there are few boys in the camp, and certainly none young enough that I would be caring for them when I get older. But I believe her—I believe every word she says. Who could mistrust that lovely, lilting voice with its Irish accent and its airy tone, as if she spoke the dialects of the four winds. I can't, and I'm only six years old. Surely on an adult, the voice would be even more powerful. Or at least, that's how it seems to me.

“You must prepare yourself for that day,” she says, just as she has said every time she comes to visit me. “It will be a time of great testing for all of us, but particularly for you. There will be others to guide you and aid you, but many times you will walk alone, and the strength you gain now must suffice to keep you. I know it is a hard task for one as young as yourself to imagine, but one day it will all be true...”

My lids droop over sightless eyes, and I fall asleep, charmed by her magical voice and her gentle touch.

[Blitz]

Could you PM me what you want me to edit. I'm kinda lost...

[Emma]

Wow. I am stunned. You are amazing.

I felt every touch. Heard every word. Saw every face. Faced every disaster. I was there.

One thing you should know about me is that I am crazy for Sci-fi fiction. Especially your kind. I am your new biggest fan. Course, there might be some competition with Lexi here.
Seriously, that was awesome. I can't wait for more!

But just one typo I found was in the Chapter Sneaking, of whatever you are calling Elf's story: "There should be only guard on duty right now.” I think you wanted a "one" in there somewhere.

It's cool that Lexi is in it! As soon as she said her name was Alexis, I knew it was her. But you say she is a villain. This will be interesting... *fangirls*

[Helios]

*hugs Emma* You are my new favorite fan! And since Lexi's NOT here, there will be NO competition. Thanks for pointing out the typo!

I'm (tentatively) calling the story Fugitive's Quest, but might change at some point. Dunno...there's a brother-story that happens at the same time in another part of the galaxy, and I might change Fugitive's Quest to match the title of that story.

Lexi's not the only one who's in it. I can't wait for her betrayal scene!

Hint:

Pound Foolish is the big bad guy!

[Emma]

Ooooh that's gonna be great!
And I haven't read very many love tri-angles. I am always curious to see how they turn out, especially in Pack.

[sing]

No no no!!! I can't be all caught up!!! Fear my dear, you are such a great great author! I just found your posts a few days ago, and I've been reading them every chance I get. :-) and you even posted some more of your WE story. I absolutely can't wait for your next installment! Keep up the good work! I'm gonna quit using exclamation marks now. :-p

[Helios]

Ooooh that's gonna be great!
And I haven't read very many love tri-angles. I am always curious to see how they turn out, especially in Pack.

I'm curious, too. I actually don't know who Tanni will ultimately end up with. I might even (heaven forbid) kill off Lloyd! Just cause I CAN.

No no no!!! I can't be all caught up!!! Fear my dear, you are such a great great author! I just found your posts a few days ago, and I've been reading them every chance I get. :-) and you even posted some more of your WE story. I absolutely can't wait for your next installment! Keep up the good work! I'm gonna write using exclamation marks now. :-p

Ooo! I will post more, post-haste! You guys make all this effort SO WORTH IT! *hugs all round* Cause I like hugging.

“Tanni! Tanni, wake up!”
It's Mason's voice calling me, and I struggle to answer. But my mouth feels dry, and I can't move.
“Tanni, wake up! Please!”
I feel his hand shaking my shoulder. I roll a little, feeling the bounce of a moving vehicle, and realize I'm in the truck. I failed to get free, and I'm still a prisoner.
“Tanni!” He brushes my hair back from my face and rubs my forehead. I groan, just enough to let him know I'm awake. He sighs with relief.
“I thought you were a goner there.”
I give a half-smile and whisper, “I thought I was a goner, too.”
We fall silent, listening to the hum of the wheels against the pavement and the whistle of the wind outside. We're moving pretty fast, from what I can tell. I wonder where we're going and what's going to happen to us. I feel bad for getting Mason into this. I'm the one Marshall wanted—poor Mason just happened to be a hanger-on.
A shiver runs through me as I recall the events of the past few hours. I had no idea things were going to get this bad. I wonder what Lloyd and Jonas are going to think when I don't show up, and the other loaders at the dock are going to know something's up.
Right?
I sigh softly. Naomi will know something, I'm sure of it. She'll get the others to help, and they'll find us eventually. I just hope eventually is long enough.
“Mason?”
“Yeah?”
“How long have I been out?”
He sighs. “Thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Not long.”
“That means Ben and Allie will be looking for me now,” I say quietly.
“Don't say that, Tanni. It'll make you cry.”
“I'm already crying,” I sniff. I realize my hand is stinging from the cuts, and there's a sharp pain in my side. I don't feel like the strong one at all right now, with tears starting to run down my cheeks and my throat closing up.
“Tanni, don't.” Mason squeezes my shoulder. “We'll be okay.”
“Mason, how can you say that?” I choke out. “We've been kidnapped by one of our own—by a human—and now we're heading to who-knows-where—and—and—” my voice breaks entirely and I turn my face away, letting the tears come. I don't hide them from Mason, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't. My head is laying in his lap, and he gently brushes my hair back again and lets me cry.
When I calm down, I wipe my eyes and sit up. The light outside the window is slowly fading. This is when I'd be sitting on the roof, watching the Unknown. This is when I'd be looking forward to meeting with the pack at Naomi's and joking around. Now none of that is going to happen.
“Mason, we have to get out of here!” I bolt to my feet and stumble from the swaying movement of the truck.
“Tanni, calm down.” He stands and steadies me. “We're gonna get out of here. Somehow.”
I don't think so, but I nod anyway. We sit down with our backs to the wall, swaying and bouncing with the movement of the vehicle. We're going pretty fast, I realize. Wherever we're headed, we're bound to be there soon.
“I wonder where we are right now,” I say, gingerly inspecting my cut-up hand. The bleeding's stopped, but it still hurts. I wonder if there's glass imbedded in it. Ouch.
“We've been moving in the circles. I think we're almost out of Slum 14#, on the inner side.” Mason brushes curly blond hair out of his eyes.
“That would be...Slum 4#,” I mentally calculate. “Doesn't Slum 4# border Wandrevir?”
“The capitol? I hope we aren't going there!” he exclaims.
I know what he means. Out in a border-slum, we hear weird stories about Wandrevir. It's heavily populated by Unba, unlike any of the slums. And Unba don't like humans in their city. If we're going there—there's bad news ahead.
“Your hand is all bloody,” Mason points out.
I nod, grimacing a little. “It hurts like the ices. I hope there's somewhere I can bandage it up soon.”
“Here.” He rips some of his shirt tail off and wraps it around and around the cuts, snug but not tight. “That should help it some.”
“Thanks.” I smile at him, but I don't feel it. I feel depressed instead. “We have to get out of here.”
“I know.” He leans back and closes his eyes. “But there's no way to do it now.”
“So we sleep on it?” I ask, almost not believing my ears.
“Look at it this way,” he says. “We'll need the strength—wherever we're headed.”
“Yeah, right.” I lean back and close my eyes. We rest our heads against each other and resign ourselves to the jolt and bounce of the truck against our bones. I don't think I'm tired, but after a while the darkening around me takes effect and I drop off.
Even in my dreams, I feel the urgency to free myself. I'm running through the streets of Slum 22#. The sky is dark overhead, but the streets are red-lit. Sirens are wailing in the background; Unba sirens, which means the patrols are on extra duty. They're looking for me, I know. I want to get to my building and hide on the roof. As I run, I see Lloyd and Jonas burst from a doorway, pursued by soldiers. I shout for them to join me, but they're grabbed and hauled away. I suddenly realize I am on my rooftop, looking down into the street and watching. More soldiers are climbing up the fire-escape, shooting blue electricity from their guns (this is a dream, after all). I hear Ben and Allie calling for me to rescue them from the fire in our apartment, because the A/C broke down. When I try to move, my feet feel frozen to the ground. I watch in horror as the soldiers pour onto the roof, surrounding me. But at the last moment, as their hands grab me and start to pull me away, I look off toward the Unknown. And there, barely visible at the edge of the horizon, is my dad. He's running toward me, with a rifle spraying bullets everywhere on my captors. Hope surges through me.
I bolt up, shouting, “Dad!”
The rumble of the truck answers me.
It's just a dream.
I sink down, still feeling the hope and adrenaline from my dream. Next to me, Mason is laying on his back, staring up at the roof. He looks at me sympathetically.
“Just a dream,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. Depression replaces my hope.
“Yeah, I know.” He sits up and stretches. “I dreamed my parents were still alive and that my dad bashed through the back of the truck and snapped Marshall's neck.”
I wince. “I think I could live without that image in my head.” Then I sigh. “I just hope Naomi and the others figure things out soon. Maybe they're already on their way to help us.”
Mason moves to sit next to me. “Tanni, do you think we're going to die?” he asks point-blank.
I flinch. “Why do you wanna know that?”
“Because—I think I know where we're going.”
“Where?”
“I heard rumors about stuff like this happening,” he begins cautiously. “People just don't disappear and no one notices. The girl who lived across from my aunt's, vanished one day. Her parents, too. I haven't seem them since. I asked my aunt, but she said there were some things not worth repeating about the Unba. Now I wish I had kept asking. And there were others...” his voice trails off.
I lean back against the cold metal of the truck. Outside, the sky is dark, about 7 o'clock, I figure. We've been in here for three hours. The pack will know something is wrong—they'll be looking for me and Mason. Lloyd and Jonas are probably frantic by now. But the slum gates are going to close soon. I wonder how they will get past those to continue the search.
“We're slowing down,” Mason says quietly. We both hop up and peer out the window, trying to figure out where we are. Bright street lights and swooping hover cars and chariots meet our eyes. It's a big city, we can tell.
A city?
“Wandrevir,” we both say slowly, fear chilling our bones.
“It's easy to get lost in a big city,” I say. “Who would notice if we just...disappeared?
“We already have,” he responds. “No one will know where we are.”
I understand and sigh. But I can't say anything. What's there to say that hasn't already been said? I sit down again, but Mason remains at the window. He's taking everything in; and that gives me an idea.
“When they open the door to get us, you should run for it.”
He turns to look at me. “And go where?”
“Lose yourself. Try to get back home. Tell the others.”
“But—what about you?” He sits down next to me.
“I don't know. But it's better than both of us disappearing without a trace. At least you can tell them what happened to me.”
“No, I'm not leaving you,” he states firmly. “You don't know what could happen to you here. What Marshall could do to you.”
“Mason, if both of us are gone, we have no hope. But if you go and tell the others, there's a chance you could come back for me.”
“I don't take chances.” He looks me in the eye. “I'm staying with you, Tannith Drifess. No matter what happens, I'm going to protect you.”
I scowl. I want him to go back. But deep inside, I'm relieved he won't. So I smile and wrap an arm around his shoulder and squeeze him. He blushes and pulls away and we laugh, a little shyly, but knowing that we're good friends.
We both crowd back to the window, watching the traffic go by. I stare in awe at the chariots, flying scooters I've heard of but never before seen. Mason is excited about the bright streets-lights and tall sky-scrapers. Nothing like them exist in the slums. For a moment, we almost forget we're prisoners of the Unba, on our way to an unknown destination.
We plunge suddenly into darkness and the truck rattles violently. For a moment, I'm afraid we're going to shake apart. Then we break into the light again, a dim, dreary kind of electric light. The truck stops and the engine cuts out. We realize with thumping hearts that we've arrived at—wherever it is. Some place that I have the distinct feeling I'm going to want to run away from before I even get inside.
We instinctively back away from the door as footsteps approach. My uninjured hand finds it's way into Mason's. He's shaking with fear, I can tell. My own body is trembling, my legs and arms columns of jelly. We have no way of knowing what's ahead for us.
The door is yanked open and bright light pours in. I wince back and shield my eyes. Marshall is standing in front of us. Behind him, several men and one woman are waiting.
“Come on, you two, time to get moving,” Marshall says.
Mason and I step forward as one, our hands tightly clasped together. Marshall grabs my other hand, the injured one, and yanks us out. I stifle a cry of pain as my feet hit the hard concrete below. Mason stumbles but I keep him from falling. We're feeling very vulnerable at this point. I give our surroundings a frightened glance; we're standing in a wide courtyard with night sky above us. Lights are shining in our faces. There is a building in front of us, and around us stand the other people, Unba in civilian uniforms. One of them totes a pistol, but they are otherwise unarmed. I get an uneasy feeling from those looks on their faces.
“The new shipments?” The woman looks at us critically. “I thought we were getting only the girl.”
“The boy saw too much,” Marshall explains. “Make sure he's finished.”
“I see.” The man with the pistol nods. “Well, get them into the compound. You know the routine.” He motions to his cohorts, who step forward. The woman grabs me and a man grabs Mason. They pull us apart and keep our arms behind us. My fingers throb from the tight grip.
“Oh, by the way, a little extra for your trouble,” the armed man says to Marshall. He hands him a small case. “Don't spend it all in one place.”
“No worries,” Marshall smiles. Then he looks at me. “Enjoy yourself here, Tanni. It might be the last time you enjoy anything.”
“You're not getting away with this,” I say, surprised by my own boldness.
He laughs. “Prove it and I'll believe it.” He walks to the truck and gets in. It drives away, leaving Mason and I completely alone with the Unba. No one can stop what they're going to do to us now.
I look over at Mason. His eyes are wide with fear. I know I look the same way. Blood is pounding through my head and wrists, trembling in my fingertips. My head is light and I feel like throwing up. I hope I don't; getting barf all over a Unba would be a really bad idea. Second thought...
No time for that. The woman, whose name-badge reads Sharein, has a firm grip on my arm as she drags me over to the building and inside. I barely catch a glimpse of a long, low, dark room with lots of equipment in it before I find myself at the end, where several desks and computer terminals are set up.
“Two in just now,” Sharein says to the girl sitting behind one of the desks. The girl, about 17, looks up. I gasp. She's stunningly beautiful; her eyes are blue, her hair is dark red, and her face highlighted by an intelligence that belies her age. Without looking at me, she rattles off a list of questions.
“Full name? Date of birth? Height and weight? Slum of origin?”
“Tannith Emma Drifess, I turned 15 on May 3rd of this year, I'm 5 feet 4 inches and I weigh 115 pounds. And I'm from Slum 22#.”
She looks up suddenly, her face tinging a slight pink. Her expression shows a slight amount of actual interest; more than most Unba show, anyway.
“Slum 22#? Bordering the Unknown?”
“Yes.” I shift my weight nervously, wondering why all the questions? What is this place, anyway? A prison? A school?
Her features narrow. “Typical border idget,” she mumbles to herself. Then she jerks her head toward a door behind her. “Get her checked out. We don't want her passing out on the point. And,” her eyes stop at my cloth-wrapped hand, “patch her up. Top physical condition absolutely necessary.”
With those cryptic words buzzing through my head, Sharein jerks me into the other room. It's small, about the size of my bedroom, with a body-scanner in one corner, a tray of instruments, and all the look of an examine room.
“Up here,” Sharein directs, and I step onto the circular stand. She quickly goes through an examination, typing everything in on an electronic data-pad. Meanwhile, lights and buttons are flickering on the display panel opposite me. A screen shows the skeletal system of my body, highlighting the hand with the glass in it. Sharein notes it with a whistle.
“Cutting up, I see,” she remarks snidely. “Put your hand here.” She pulls a tray with a blinking surface over. It looks like one of those new safety-removal outlets that Jonas talked about last week.
I place my hand on the flat metallic tray, and watch as the glass inside my hand is melted and sucked out, leaving no marks. My hand tingles a little, but is otherwise unaffected.
“Now put these on,” Sharein orders, pulling some clothes out of a locker.
Reluctantly, I strip off my normal clothes and slip into the dark red jumper. The long sleeves fit me perfectly and the collar is snug around my neck. I slip into shiny black boots, tucking my pant-legs into the flexible leather. Then Sharein pulls the rubber-band from my hair and places me in a chair.
“What are you doing?” I ask, startled into speech for once.
“Cutting your hair,” she says, eying the red strands with a scowl. “I've never seen a human with that color before. Not a half-breed, I hope,” she smirks.
“No!” I shout, but not at the half-breed comment. “You can't cut my hair! I like it long!” I jump up and instantly get shoved back down.
“Sit down, idget,” Sharein says tersely. “It'll grow back.” She flicks a switch on the control panel and the hair-cutting appliance opens from the wall, blades already grinding. I flinch at the sound but keep silent as my waist-length hair is shortened to just above my shoulders. Sharein pulls it back into a tight braid and reties it.
“Perfect,” she says, adding with a scoff, “If anything about you humans can be perfect, that is.”
I look at myself in the shiny metal of the wall. I feel like crying. It's silly, I know, but I hate the way I look. Short hair! My dad—and Jonas—always said they liked my hair the way it was. Now they won't!
“Stop blubbering.” Sharein pulls my arm. “Get into the scanner. Let's see if you're really the helpless little girl you act like.”
I wasn't crying, I think to myself, but I ignore her comment and step into the metal tube. It's open on both ends, and there's a little rolling belt that takes you through it. Sharein turns the belt on and I slide through. The machine makes a buzzing noise at one point.
“What have we here?” I hear her voice from outside. “Oho, a necklace? Family heirloom, I'll bet. Take it off and hand it out.”
I reach inside my collar and undo the metal clasp. It's my mother's, the only one I have of her's. I wonder what Sharein will do with it. I don't think I want to find out.
The belt pushes me out the other end, where she's standing. I'm holding the necklace in one hand, reaching out to give it to her.
Suddenly, I swing the chain around and bring the pendant, a pebble-sized ruby, against her face with a smack. She's taken off-guard by the impact and stumbles back a step. That's all the time I need. I lunge past the circular stand, trip over a cable, and slam against the door. My hands grab the handle and yank, but just then I feel hands grabbing me back.
“Oh, no, you won't,” Sharein hisses. A sharp pain shoots through me and I scream. I squirm around to see an odd-shaped, pen-like object in her hand. A stun-gun, like Marshall's.
“Stop, please,” I beg. She applies the stun several more times, jerking my body with its sharp current. I scream, but not loudly. My throat is closing up and my limbs tingle. I can't move. When she finishes, I'm paralyzed, unable to move or even cry.
Sharein laughs. “I told you, Tannith. If you don't do what we say, you get zapped. And even if you do—well—you'll see.” She laughs again and yanks me to my feet. I'd scream, but I can't find my voice.
“Let's get going, human.” She shoves me out the door. I take one last look at my mother's necklace, lying unnoticed on the floor. The ruby pendant is shattered.

Oh, the heartbreak!

[Emma]

Whaaat.... THE PLOT DEEPENS. *screams*

[Helios]

Here's something I put together on the spur of the moment...cause I'm tired.

Do you know what it's like to be ripped apart
To feel their hands reaching into your heart
To have their evil minds forced upon you
And know oh so well there's nothing you can do

They'll say they have your best interests in mind
Funny they then try to rip up your insides
Can't trust these folks, never know what they'll do
But my guess: they'll always be hurting me and you

So don't listen to them, don't let them get close
They're only going to betray you, you know
Fight them like it's good that they die
Cause right now that's the only way you'll survive

I know you've got courage, I know that you're strong
I know you can wade through these rights and these wrongs
A good head on your shoulders, a pure spark in your heart
Someday you'll finally scare away the dark

[Paula]

You have quite the way with words =o Your style is a bit different from mine, but I still enjoyed reading it! I especially liked the flow of the first stanza.

[Helios]

Why thank you. Whenever I go into poetry mode, I feel like a mad rapper.

[Emma]

Whenever I read your post, I reread it in a rapping voice. Hilarious. It totally changes the entire mood of the piece.

[Helios]

*snickers* I should try that, Emma.

I know I need to post more of both stories, but I haven't got access to them right now, so will this suffice?

When people look at us they see
A group of youth confidently
Walking through this world so wide
With strength and pride in every stride

We all exude this attitude
That everything's just as it should
Be with us 'cause nothing's wrong
Who says we have any problems

Where we live, the sky is bright
And stars will always shine at night
We never make a single mistake
We never worry about going insane

But all that's just what others see
No one knows the real you and me
Who could see that deep within
None of us are what we seem
All our hearts have tattered holes
For we are naught but fractured souls

Unfortunately, I left my notebook of angry raps at home.

[Emma]

xD
It's so cute!

[Helios]

*ponders the strangeness of Emma's statement*

Death Fighting

Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown

A multitude of voices swirl around me: laughing, crying, chattering, pleading, ordering, singing, sighing—all full of joy and peace. Like waves of light they wash over my ears, soothing my surging emotions of panicked flight. I feel calm and peaceful. A fresh breeze brushes my skin.
“Elf? Elf, wake up. Come back to me.”
I open my eyes and look up into a bright blue sky. The sun shimmers at the corner of my vision, melding with the emerald-green leaves of the trees surrounding me. I'm lying on my back, my arms folded across my chest. Around me, I catch glimpses of white-robed figures moving among the trees.
“Elf, wake up. Don't leave me now. Wake up, please.”
I know that voice, but where from? Why is it so familiar?
“Elf.”
A hand touches my face and I startle. I roll away and sit up, staring at the place where the person ought to be sitting.
There is no one.
“Elf, I'm right here.”
The hand touches my shoulder and this time I stay still. The hand moves down my arm until it reaches my hand. Strong fingers squeeze my own.
“You've come back.” The invisible voice seems to be smiling. “After all these years.”
“Who are you?” I ask. “I know your voice, but why can't I see you? Where are you from?”
Silence. The fingers squeeze my own more tightly now. I look around, realizing that every time I try to focus on the white-robed figures, they seem to dance out of my view. Yet I can still hear their voices, merry and strong and full of vigor. Why can't I see them?
“Elf.” The voice is sad. “Elf, you cannot see me because you don't want to.”
“What?” I look in the direction of the voice, even thought I can't see anything. “But I do want to see you! I want to see all of you!”
“No.” The voice seems thick with tears. “No, Elf, you don't want to see us. You would be afraid.”
“I'm not afraid now!” My whole body is trembling, but not from fear. “I want to see!”
“No. You are blinded.” Now the voice is crying. “You are blinded by your own will. Elf, until your will is broken you will never see us.”
Some part of me that I never go anymore realizes that she speaks the truth. But I can't accept it. I won't!
“Elf.” The invisible hand releases my fingers and caresses my hair. “Elf, why do you hate Nishi?”
Nishi. My throat clenches at the name.
“I don't hate him,” I protest. “Not much.”
“You would kill him if you could,” the voice says sadly. “To hate is to kill, Elf. Do not kill him in your mind, for if you see him, you will follow your thoughts. It's not his fault for what happened to you.”
“It is too!” Tears bubble in my eyes. “He abandoned me! Just like he promised he never would! I do hate him!” I yank away from the hand on my hair. I don't want to be with this person who knows so much about me!
“You can't hide, Elf.” The voice seems to be fading. “They are coming for you. I will come again to warn you. Please listen to me.”
“No!” I spring to my feet. “I don't want you to come! I can handle this myself! I can! I will!”
“You can't.” The voice is a mere whisper. “She has her spell on you. You are not strong anymore, Elf. You are weakening. You will fall.”
“Stop being so vague! Just say what you mean!” I feel like stamping my foot in anger.
The final breaths of the whisper float to me. “She is coming. Run, Elf! Run!”
I turn around, my vision swirling from the sunlight above and the shadows beneath the trees. In front of me, the shadows are growing. Swiftly the darkness comes forward, eating up the trees, drowning out the light. I back up, terror beginning to overtake me. Just out of the corners of my eyes, the white-robed figures are suddenly running and screaming. Then—
“Come to me.” The voice speaks directly to my mind. “Let me into your thoughts...don't fight me...let me in...”
“No! Stay away from me!” My back hits a tree and I sit down, a lethargy taking over my limbs. Numbness seeps through my veins.
“You cannot resist...come to me...don't fight me...welcome me in...let me take control of you...let me into your mind...”
Her! She's coming!
The darkness reaches my bare feet and I stare, fascinated, as it creeps up the long silk skirt of my dress. When it reaches my waist, I feel hands gripping me, pulling me further into the darkness.
“Let me go!” I scream. The chant I used earlier slips my mind, leaving me defenseless against her. “Release me!”
“You are mine...you belong to death...you are one of mine...a soul without breath...”
The words echo through my brain, as intense as the beating of my heart. I scream again, writhing in terror, trying to break myself free from her grasp.
Icy tendrils wrap around me, blocking out all the light from the sky. The white-robed figures' screams fade until I can no longer hear them. Why didn't they try to help me?
“I will resist you,” I shout into the blackness. “I demand you release me! I am not yours and I never will be!”
“You are the property of Death.” The voice echoes through my head. “Come to me...let me into your mind...”
“No! No no no!” I fight frantically, struggling against the power that draws me toward Death. Already I feel my body decaying into lifeless fragments. Terror so strong I can taste it clings to my throat. I am going to die. I know it.
Then—
“Elf,” the soft whisper sounds in my ear. “Elf, don't forget me. I will come for you again. Please listen to me. Don't give up. Elf...please...”
A light appears in the darkness. With all my strength I reach toward it, fighting the death that clutches me to its bosom. Her voice screams shrilly, drowning out the faint whisper. But it's too late.
With tremendous pain shooting through me, I break from the darkness and fly toward the light.

At last....the next piece of the puzzle...

[Paula]

Helios, that's good =o You're a talented writer! I was completely and totally focused on that story and I could really feel the tension and stuff so good job! *gives helios a gold star* Keep it forever...

[Helios]

Thank you. *pins gold star to her heart* And since it's been so long, I'm doing a double-feature.

First Tanni's story:

I slowly come awake, opening my eyes with a hope that I'll see something that reminds me of home.
The ceiling is a foot from my nose; it's a gray, cracked, concrete ceiling. I wince, remembering the events of last night, hoping and praying it's just all a dream.
But it isn't. With a sigh, I roll onto my side and stare miserably at the girl across the aisle from me.
I'm in a long, high room. It's dark, but the kind of dark like the light is just beyond a curtained window. There are no windows here. Only rows and rows of metal three-stack bunks and a girl on each mattress. They're hard as rocks, but I barely feel it. My arms and legs still are numb from last night.
Last night. What a nightmare.
After Sharein dragged me out of the examination room, she took me through another door in the main room to a long hallway. This led to a maze of hallways, lifts, security checkpoints, and more scanners. I was so dazed I barely remember it now. When we reached this bunk room, she pushed me through the door, said “Row 7 on left, top bunk,” and then left me. I was too tired to even think about escaping, so I followed her directions and climbed up. Everyone else was asleep by then, though I think I woke up sometime last night when another girl came in.
I wonder where Mason is. Is he stuck in a room with a bunch of other guys? Marshall said something about finishing him. Does he mean killing him? I wouldn't put it past these Unba. They have no respect for life, human or otherwise. It's not something I like to think about, but now, lying all alone, kidnapped and miles from home, I begin to wish I had learned more about the Unba and what they do. It might have helped me steer clear of this.
An alarm suddenly sounds. Lights flick on, blinding me for a second.
“Wake-up call, all human scum get their crummy existences out'o bed!” the girl two bunks beneath me hollers out. The room descends into a whirl of commotion as everyone jumps up (several whacking their heads on the ceiling) and roll off their bunks. Everyone is talking, making my head ache with the chatter. I wait until my two bunk-mates move off, then climb stiffly down and stretch my limbs. I peer into the aisle and nearly get run-over by a heavy-set girl as she dashes past. What's the rush, I wonder. I look both ways, then step out and follow her. Seems everyone's gathering at the further end of the room, opposite where I came in. There's a large group of girls lined up in front of a door on one side, with several more cowering on the other side. I come up just in time to hear—
“If you don't want to get beat-up, don't step over the lines.”
Then they all look at me with surprised expressions. I stop, uncertain what's going on.
“So, we have a black-list prospect in our midst.” The black-haired girl who was talking earlier steps forward and looks me up and down. “What's your name?”
“Tannith.” I look her in the eye. “Who are you?” She's a human, so I'm not afraid of her. Besides, she's about Naomi's size. I could take her on if she attacked me, which I hope she won't. Funny I now think about stuff like that. Being with the Unba will do that to you.
“Huh. Not the usual scum the Unba pick up,” she says with a toss of her head. “I'm Britt. I'm the leader here, and you'll do what I say. If you don't—” she draws a finger across her throat. I swallow hard and nod. Picture gotten.
“For all you newcomers,” she nods to me and the few others, “you're in a Unba prison—or training school, take your pick.” She talks in a slightly bored voice like she's teaching a group of five-year-olds. “They've never told us the name, but crazy people like us make our own.” She pauses for effect and gives a mock bow. “Welcome to the Loony Bin of Unba Rejects...or perhaps you'd prefer—Bloody Asylum.”
“Tell her what it means,” a spiteful voice calls from the crowd.
Britt looks nervous for a second, then quickly gives a rough laugh. “She'll find out soon enough. Now get in line. It's time to head out.”
The little group of newcomers, me included, hurriedly line up. Britt walks down the row and pushes some of the unruly girls into rigid attention. I'm on the end, and when she reaches me, she stops.
“Tannith Drifess?”
“You know my last name?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah.” She glances around, suddenly nervous, her voice near a whisper. “Look, just watch yourself, got it? You made a major mistake back there: arriving late to roll-call. They're watching all the time.”
“Is that what you meant by black-list?” I ask, equally low in voice.
“Part of it.” She licks her lips and I realize how pale her face is under some faint scars. “All right, now move out,” she says loudly. She can switch from nervous to tough in a second. With hands on her hips, she says, “Late-comers won't get breakfast. So move it!” These last words are punctuated by shoving me so that I ram into the back of the girl in front of me. Britt walks back up the line, shouting and threatening as everyone moves out the doors and down a hallway.
I look around and see security cameras lining the walls. This place has more surveillance than I've ever seen before. It is a prison, as Britt said. She scares me. One minute trying to help, the next treating me like the dirt-bag all the Unba think I am. Just what's up with her? I try not to think about it. Instead, I focus on how Jonas and Naomi are going to break me out of here soon. They will, I know it. With Lloyd helping them, I'm not going to be in here much longer.
My thoughts disappear as we march into a cafeteria, like the kind in a normal school. There are metal tables with benches lining the room all the way to the end, which has another door. Along one side of the room is a buffet with filled trays. We all file past and take one, then find the next empty seat at a table and sit down. I feel starved; I didn't get supper last night, and being scared always makes me hungry. Forget scared; I'm terrified! All the stuff Britt said back in the bunk room keeps running through my head. Bloody Asylum—my blood is starting to pump like crazy through my veins.
I look down the line of girls. All of them are dressed like me, in red jumpers with short hair braided back. Short hair! I fell like crying again when I think of my haircut last night. Silly, I know, but—
“Hey, move over, half-breed.”
The voice jolts me out of my thoughts. I look up to see Britt standing over me, tray in hand. She's scowling, so I quickly scoot over. She sits down, but before she can say anything, I blurt out, “I'm not a half-breed.”
She gives me a look and says sarcastically, “Haven't you heard that it's practically unheard-of for humans to have red hair?”
“I can't help! My dad was red-haired. It's a family thing!” I feel defensive now. “Look, just because I don't look like a human doesn't mean I'm not one!”
I didn't know my voice could carry so far. All the girls at the nearby tables turn and look at me. I blush blood-red at their stares. I wish I hadn't said anything.
“Black-list prospect,” someone snorts, and everyone laughs. Britt frowns.
“Lay off her,” she snaps. “She'll get what's coming later.”
I don't think Britt likes me very much, but it's obvious that the other girls annoy her as well. I have to find out what they mean by “black-list prospect”. So I turn to the girl on my other side. She's still staring at me, mouth open. I blush again, but this time I feel angry.
“What's so big about being a black-list prospect?” I ask.
Her mouth moves, but she seems to have trouble getting sound out. Her eyes are getting bigger and bigger, and finally out comes a thin, squeaky voice. “You're—you're Tannith Drifess, aren't you?”
I stare at her. “How do you know me?”
“I'm Shea—from Mason's building—remember?”
“What? Shea? You mean” —I gulp— “you're the one who disappeared? Yes, I remember you now! But that was years ago. How'd you end up here?”
“Same as you, I guess,” Shea says. Her voice is starting to sound more normal now. “I didn't recognize you for a minute. But when you said about your dad being red-haired—I remembered.”
I actually feel happy for a minute. This place isn't as unfriendly and scary as I thought it was after all. My hands are still trembling, though. Shea smiles sadly.
“About the black-list thing—it means you're going to be a hard one to beat into.”
“Beat into?”
“Yeah.” She stares ahead of her and crosses her arms. “See, Britt said this is a school. And it is. Sort of. It's a school where you're trained to kill people.”
“Kill?” I choke on my food and stare.
“Yep.” She frowns suddenly. “I'll explain more later.” She looks away from me. I realize that Britt has been listening to us. I look back down at my food and concentrate on eating. There's something weird about the way both Britt and Shea are acting. They know something—but they either won't or can't tell me. I look at the other girls and realize that they, too, are like that. Everyone's treating me different because either of something I've done—or something that will be done to me.
When we finish eating, we stack our trays in a pile by the door and go through it. More hallways, more lifts, more security checkpoints, but no scanners. I feel like I'm being watched all the time. There are security cameras lining the walls at every turn. All the checkpoints are filled with guards; Unba, of course. But no one comes near us. We're isolated in a little group, moving through the building.
We reach a wide, open room with a high ceiling. It's pretty empty, but the ground is pure concrete. Lights blaze along the walls, and glass-windowed area to the right reveals more Unba, in uniforms, monitoring us. Without warning, there's a grinding of gears and equipment rips up from the floor. It looks like an obstacle course. What does this have to do with killing people?
Britt is suddenly beside me. “This is the beginner's course,” she says, smirking. “We're only doing this because of the new recruits. It's designed to toughen you up for the later courses.”
“You have 30 seconds to get through,” a voice says harshly through the speaker system. “Go!”
Most of the girls jump forward at once. I remain frozen to the ground, still in shock. The other new girls do the same. Then Britt turns and shouts at us, “Come on, slow pokes! You're slowing down the pack!”
We jump into startled action, jumping, weaving, sliding our way through. I get stuck on a hurdle at one point and the girl behind me pushes me over. I whack my arm against the floor, bruising it. But I barely notice the pain because I'm concentrating on just getting through without passing out. I've never done such a hard workout before. Britt, at the front of the pack, shouts threats at us since we're taking so long. I glance up and see a timer just ahead, hitting the 30-second mark. With a last burst of strength, I propel myself past the girl in front of me and collapse on the ground with a gasp.
“Nice job,” the voice says snidely. “I see our new idgets made it through in one piece. Let's see you really in action now.”
I look at Shea, who's heaving beside me. She gives me a look that says “Get ready for it”. I turn my head to look through the next door—and watch a whole new world open before me.

And Elf Girl's:

Resting

Date: February 3, 4092
Location: Port of Sand and Fire, Vulcan Fire Five
Time: 05:54 AM by Vulcan's Chrono (04:34 AM by Apollo's Chrono)

“She's going to be fine.”
Who is that?
“I hope so. She's been out for a while.”
I'm sure I know that voice.
“How long has it been?”
“Eight hours.”
Eight hours? So long? Is that how long I've been unconscious?
Footsteps shuffle across the floor and a door slams. Someone has left the room, but the other person has remained behind.
A hand touches my wrist and I wince from the pain that shoots up my arm. My fingers are still very cold, but at least I can feel the other person's warmth.
“Ashley?” That familiar voice again...who is it? “Ashley, please wake up. Don't go cold on me.”
Go cold on me—a euphemism for dying. Funny, I felt like I was really dying just a few minutes ago. A few minutes ago, when I was...dreaming...only it was a dream I no longer remember...
“Ashley, I'm serious.” The person shakes my shoulder, causing me to groan inwardly from the spikes that tingle through me. “Don't leave me now.”
It's that last sentence that makes me realize who it is. Something in the inflection, the tone—
“Lexi...?” I croak out, my vocal cords strangely stiff and cold.
She gives a huge sigh of relief, and the warm air whooshes against my face. “Thank the stars, you can still talk. Do you remember what happened?”
“We escaped,” I murmur. “I—I touched something I shouldn't have.”
“Her.” Lexi's voice shivers. “You said you touched a body she had touched.”
I nod, but another memory nudges my mind. “It was more than that...at the prison...I felt a hand...”
“Her?” Lexi breathes. “She touched you—herself?”
No answer is needed, as we both know what I mean. Her touch, the touch of Death itself, is fatal. No one has ever survived it before.
So how come I'm not dead?
“You're lucky,” Lexi says finally. “Really, really lucky.”
“Huh,” I snort. “I don't believe in luck.”
“I was worried,” she continues, almost as if I hadn't spoken. “Very worried. I thought you'd died or something...”
I'd be very worried about that as well if other things weren't more pressing. “Where are we? Is it secure? Do they know who we are?”
Even with my eyes closed, I can feel her stare. She's still so hung-up on being worried about me, and all I want to know is if the police will come running into the room any minute to arrest me. Or rather, us.
“It's the medical bay in the port of Sand and Fire on VF Five,” she replies after a second. “I used your pilot ID to sign you in, so I don't think the police will track us here.”
“Not as quickly, anyway. How soon will I be able to get up?”
“I don't know.” She hesitates, then asks, “Do you need anything? Like a drink or—are you hungry?”
“Actually, no. I'm too cold to feel much of anything else. But you can do me a favor. There's a stand to my left with a tray on it, holding a syringe. I need you to inject me with the contents.”
“What? Do you know what that is?”
“Yes, it's an adrenaline compound normally used on people whose hearts have stopped. I need to jump start my systems and that's the fastest way to do it.”
“Ashley...”
“Look, I can't even move a finger. All I can do is talk. I can't open my eyes. And I need to get out of here. But wait—lock the door first and turn off the intercom. I don't want the staff to hear anything.”
I don't blame her for hesitating before obeying me, but I also want to strangle her for delaying. Just hurry up and get me out of here! I can't lie around all day waiting for the police to track me down.
With my eyes virtually glued shut, hearing becomes my main sense. Lexi's footsteps plunk against the floor as she walks. Then there's a clatter when she picks the syringe.
“Should I wear gloves?” she asks. “This is a medical procedure.”
“It doesn't matter.” I'm inwardly begging her to hurry up, but it seems almost rude to say that aloud.
Her fingers are painfully warm as she stretches my arm out, searches for the vein, and finally steadies the syringe against my skin. There's a slight pause, then the cold needle pierces my flesh and releases the adrenaline into my bloodstream.
Any second now...
Without warning, fire rockets into my veins, burning like molten metal. My heart almost stops beating from the tremendous shock that jerks through my body, making all my limbs shudder uncontrollably. My eyes fly open and I bolt upright, screaming in agony.
“Ashley!” Lexi is screaming too, her face contorted in terror. I barely hear her through the blood pounding inh my ears, but I feel her grab my shoulders and try to hold me still. My body is convulsing from the compound that sears my veins with its intensity.
But at least I'm able to move again.
When my voice goes hoarse from all the screaming, I gasp in a deep, shuddering breath and relax in Lexi's arms. Tears are streaming down my face and dampening my clothes and sheets. My hands still shake from the intensity of the adrenaline rush, but at least the fire no longer burns as much.
“That was horrible,” Lexi says, clutching me tightly. “I never want to do that to you again.”
I simply nod. My voice refuses to work, as if punishing me for what I just put myself through. Lexi lowers me back on the pillows and goes over to get my normal clothes from where they're hanging on a hook on the wall.
“You can dress yourself,” she tells me. “I'll do your hair.”
It takes a little while to start moving again, but eventually I sit up of my own accord, slip out from under the sheets, and start dressing. My voice comes back about halfway through, but I still don't feel like talking. Odd, that I should be able to do everything except talk. Almost as if I'd forgotten how to do it.
Lexi insists on doing my hair for me. Apparently she's afraid my arms will fall off from being held behind my head for so long. As she works on the black curls, weaving and braiding with surprising skill, a memory comes to my mind. Only I can't quite grasp it, and it slips through my fingers like so many grains of sand.
“So,” Lexi begins, and I realize her desire to do my hair was simply to make me sit still and answer her questions. “What are our plans now?”
“We get a ship from here,” I whisper hoarsely. “You salvaged our belongings from the prison ship?” When she nods, I continue, “I'll get the ship just like the last one. You wait for me in the hangar bay. As soon as I get the proper docs, I'll meet you in the bay.”
“And where will we go?”
I hesitate, uncertain. Where do we go from here? It's the question I keep avoiding, the one I can't allow myself to think about. If I had Buck with me, I'd know where to go. He always knows what to do, but with him gone, I'm lost. I can't drag Lexi into my portal-hunting expeditions, which are probably terminated until further notice anyway.
I guess the real problem is that I'm wanted for a massacre that was none of my fault—unless you count it my fault that the government wanting me dead so badly they firebombed an entire planet, which I don't. It's going to be so hard to hide now when everyone and his brother wants to turn me in. I had enough trouble when it was just the government after me. Now I'm an intergalactic fugitive that no one would hesitate to betray.
And with Lexi along—I like her company, don't misunderstand me, but she's also a liability, and a somewhat ignorant one at that. Yes, we share a common bond in both being survivors of the massacre, but I still can't figure out why she agreed to come with me in the first place. I guess I would have done the same if I were in her shoes...but still.
Then, at the heart of everything, is the fear of what will happen if anyone finds out what I was doing on Hendricks Moon Base two days ago. I can't let anyone, even Lexi, know who I really am. Only Buck knows, and only he has the right to know. He is—was—my bodyguard. And without him...
“We have to clear your name,” Lexi says suddenly, jerking me from my thoughts. I sit up straighter and glance at her reflection in the shiny metal wall of my hospital room.
“Clear my name?” My voice seems stronger and more flexible now. “What's the use?”
“No, I mean it,” she continues excitedly. “It's obvious you were framed. So why live as a fugitive? Why not prove to the systems that you're innocent?”
The idea isn't new to me, but I still feel stunned when she suggests it. Prove myself innocent...? Could I? I have enough trouble just staying out of the government's sight for one day, much less attempting to gather information that could prove my innocence. Is that even possible? What if it isn't something I can prove?
“Done.” Lexi tucks the last braid into place and smooths it down. Then she moves around to face me. “I know it sounds hard, Ashley, but think—millions of innocent people died for no apparent reason. And we're the only ones who knew what really happened down there. Why shouldn't we be the ones to show the truth to the worlds?”
“It's a daunting thought, Lexi,” I protest. “The Adýnamos galaxy contains over twenty Toméa, and each Toméa has at least eight planets to the individual sector. We could search for years and never find the truth. Still,” I trace the back of my head thoughtfully, feeling the intricate braids, “it's better than living like a fugitive for the rest of my life. And that life won't be very long if we don't keep on the run.” Getting to my feet, I try out my legs and see if they'll hold me up. Not as hard as I'd feared, but still a little stiff. However, my back is killing me from soreness. Guess that numb feeling was keeping me from noticing that bruise along my spine.
Lexi hovers anxiously. “Can you travel? You were pretty much comatose for so long.”
“I'm fine. All I needed was that jolt from the adrenaline. And right now, we need to make tracks and get out of here.” I stretch my arms above my head, then gasp. “Ooh, that didn't feel good. Did they give me a full examine while I was out?”
“Everything but a brain scan.” Lexi tilts her head in thought. “You have very high blood pressure for someone your age.”
“Ha. They would, too, if they were me.” I flex my arms more carefully this time and roll the stiff muscles in my neck. At least my head still seems to be in one piece. “Get going, Lexi. I'll meet you in the hangar bay.”
She hangs back a second, hesitating. “Are you sure you're all right? You don't just touch one of them and walk away like nothing happened.”
I sigh. “I'm fine, Lexi. Now will you please get a move on it?”
With a sigh of her own, Lexi does as I request and exits the room. I wait until her footsteps have finished echoing off the steel walls, then pull up my shirt and stand with my back to the mirror, looking at the bruise. It's the same color as earlier and appears to have spread over more of my back. The skin is mottled and sickly-looking around the edges of the discoloration, and when I touch it, it feels ice-cold.
Even I, who will never, ever be a doctor of any kind, can tell that something's not right at all with my back. But I can't help it now—I have to keep moving. My survival depends on using my wits to stay ahead of the police, no matter what problems may arise.
So I shove my concerns to the back of my mind, tuck my shirt back into my waistband, and head out after Lexi, determined to pick a better, less traceable ship this time. Yet even as I try to forget what happened on Hecate Arrow, a tiny sliver of ice begins to burn somewhere inside my soul.

And..I'm going to drop dead from exhaustion...nighty-night-nightwing... *falls down and snores*