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His parents would kill him if they knew what he was doing.

He took the corner at a hundred and three. It was a wide bend at the top of a hill, with nothing to obscure vision, but when you were flying two inches off the ground that was far, far too fast. Keep the nose down. Keep the throttle high. Take every corner too fast. Push it. Push it! Live fast, live on the edge. Vaahn knew that if he screwed up he'd be killed instantly. Somehow, in some sick, twisted way, that made it all the more exciting. Thirty years of playing safe, of obeying the rules, of doing what he was told... thirty years of hell were being strangled to death in the scream of an engine. He took the next corner at a more sedately fifty-four, but it was a very sharp turn; he had to raise the nose and arc up to keep in the boundaries of the road. Down again, hard on the throttle. Another turn, then another, then a third - he jinked across lanes, laughing at the thought of oncoming traffic. He hit a straight and finally found some; a blue family car coming the other way. He shrieked past at a hundred and thirty. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He pushed up to a hundred and seventy, and almost ran out of road. He threw the bike out sideways, feeling the tail shred the bushes. Too close by far... another inch or two and he could have hit something more solid than twig and leaf. At these speeds, he'd never have survived. Faster, faster, even faster still; he was up to two hundred and eighty eight when the comm-panel chirruped at him. "Damn it!" he growled. "I was making such good time..." He let the autopilot take over and activated the voice link. "Yeah?" "Vaahn, your mother called. She wants me to drop you off home for dinner. I told her you were working in the back on your bike, so you'd best get it back here!" Wodka's voice crackled in Vaahn's ear. "Thanks for the warning. I'll be there in ten." Call over, he took control again and let the bike loose, pulling up above the tree line and unleashing the full power of the jetbike. Three minutes of full throttle brought him to the rendezvous where two of Koskr's friends were waiting. One would ride the bike home to the workshop; the other would give Vaahn a lift in the hovercar. He'd have liked to ride it home himself, but he shouldn't have been out on it at all. The last thing he needed was for the police to find him joyriding... ...Not with the court hearing less than a week away.

* * *

Though he'd turned ten just a few days ago, Vaahn looked several years older. There was a roughness around his neck where his mane was starting to grow in, and flabbiness had started to form that, come puberty proper, would be burned off to fuel the rapid growth spurt. Perhaps in spite of this, he had adopted an impressive exercise regimen; Vaahn went running most nights, lifted weights and jumped on every sporting activity he could. His skill in the martial arts club was now second to none. He was preparing himself, physically and mentally, for what lay ahead. He came into his room and sat down on the end of his bed, aware that it might not be 'his' bed much longer. Would he have a new home if he made Completas? Jas padded into the room, drying himself off with a towel. He too was starting to develop, with hints of adulthood visible if you knew where to look. Vaahn was a good ten centimetres taller by now, however, and would reach his adult size whilst Jas was still struggling through puberty. For a moment, Vaahn wondered just how that would impact their relationship. He hadn't cared the first time around, but looking back he wondered if he'd been wrong to force such things on the boy... He shook the thought away and stepped out into the hall, planning on getting a shower now the bathroom was free. When he came back in, Chloe had picked out clothes for him to wear. It had been over a year since she'd last done that, but she clearly wanted him to make a good impression. "Excited?" she asked as he put on the pants and shirt. When he didn't reply right away she added, "You scrub up pretty well, you know. You look a very smart young man." "Young?" Vaahn chuckled. "Ten's practically an old man back on Urokon. Heck, I was commanding a starship at eleven." He examined himself in the mirror one last time, and took the opportunity to inspect the loose tooth he'd been toying with for the past day and a half. It'd fall out any day now, and he was tempted to just yank it out there and then. He didn't, though.

The family got into the car and drove off to the court. Vaahn could feel the tension in the air; they were all thinking of him, hoping for the best but knowing, no matter how it went, there was a chance he'd be put with another family. They pulled up outside the courthouse. It was one of the old buildings, put together as a modular kit. The walls were terracotta coloured, and utterly without charm. Vaahn knew the way without being told but let his parents lead. They passed through the security checkpoint, with the usual searches performed, and before long Vaahn was once again in the little room where his fate would be decided by a court official. This time it was a female Drakonian with an accent so thick it sounded like she was trying to gargle with grit. "Mr and Mrs Johansson, Master Johansson, Master T'Rol. Please take a seat." "You've had quite the exciting cycle, young man." The Drakonian said after consulting her notes. "Whilst I accept not all of that was your fault, some of these notes are less easily justified. You've still got a love for fighting, that much is clear." Vaahn looked at her and said, "In my defence, I've not been in a fight in over a year." The judge shrugged off the comment. "Tell me Vaahn, do you believe you are rehabilitated? Do you feel ready to return to society?" "I want my life back," he answered. "I'm tired of being a Penitatas; I want to do something with my life." "That's not what I asked," she replied. Vaahn shrugged. "I never committed any crime, so I have no need to rehabilitate. I was never a part of this society, so I am not 'returning' to anything. I'm also a blood relative of the King of the Dawn, just so you know."

The Kyyreni boy almost laughed out loud as the judge's expression froze. The name Jasat was one everyone on the planet knew; last year, Icara and Urokon had gone to war over the planet the Humans called 'Brocknell'. It had been won and lost in fleet manoeuvres, with both sides chasing each other's ships around the system for two months solid. Eight hundred and forty-one deaths all told, with more than half of those coming from the Icaran side. Jasat T'Rol, Royal Lord of Tu'ri and King of the Dawn, was widely believed to be looking for an excuse to start fighting again. The Judge knew this, and she knew Vaahn could be just the reason he was looking for... She took a moment to regain her composure. "Despite your... troubles, it is the opinion of the Board of Corrections that you are no longer a danger to yourself or others, and as such I declare you Completas. If there are no objections from the Johanssons, you will remain with them until adulthood, at which time you will be free to make your own choices." The rest of the conversation went on around him, but he wasn't part of it anymore; it was over. Somehow, he'd known it was the instant he'd entered the room. He was a Penitatas no longer, and it was almost too much to take in.

They passed from one building to another. This one was across the road from the courthouse, and yet again security checkpoints had to be passed. This time they were much more forgiving, giving Vaahn the same cursory sweep they gave Jas and his parents. The newly earned 'C' on the back of each hand may have been a factor in that. They came to a metal desk at the end of a long corridor. Above the desk was a transparent material, the same kind used for starship viewports. Between it and the desk was a force field, which deactivated with an electric pop as the Johansson family offered up the court slip. Ten minutes later, the police officer behind the desk was offering up a pair of security cases, and Vaahn was allowed to go through them both. "I remember this," Vaahn said. He was referring to a golden torc. "I think it was a birthday present. I don't remember who from." He handed the item to his father, who placed it into a backpack. Vaahn was already admiring the next item. It was a ring; made of silver, with the rank badge of a Tu'ri lord picked out in dulled steel and rubies. He stared at it for a full minute until Chloe broke his trance with a hand on the shoulder. He shook away whatever thoughts had held him and said, "I guess I should send this to Jasat." Two more rings followed, along with a necklace and three more torcs; two bronze, one black iron. Next was a knife with its blade sheared off just above the hilt. Vaahn winced when he saw it. "Wow..." the boy gasped aloud at the next piece of memorabilia. A hip flask bearing the runic slogan 'Risik's Favoured Make Their Own Luck!' was cradled with great affection. Slowly, Vaahn unscrewed the top and sniffed the contents. "Empty," he said. "Shame... I remember filling it with some of Jaahl's favourite spirit." Last of all, for this case at least, were clothes. They'd been washed, but not repaired; burns and tears covered the ash-grey uniform from top to bottom. The Johanssons examined the clothes in quiet awe, each imaging what kind of hell Vaahn must have gone through when he last wore them. By the spread of the burns, he'd presumably been on fire at the time.

Finally, Vaahn came to the second box. He placed his thumbs on the clasps and took a breath, holding it as he popped the lid. He opened it slowly, with a slight tremble in his lip in anticipation of what lay inside. He'd dared not dream they still existed... There was a sword belt inside. It was made of black leather, frayed and turning green with age. The silver buckle had a chip in it, but was otherwise polished and well kept. Two swords, still in faux-wood scabbards, were attached to the belt. Vaahn drew one slowly, revealing a short sword with a flamberge blade. It was razor sharp and lovingly maintained. It sighed as it left the scabbard; a primal sound that invoked both awe and fear. "I thought they were gone," Vaahn said, turning the sword back and forth, admiring how it caught the light. "They were my grandfather's swords; a gift for when he came of age. They passed to my father, and then to me on his death bed." He brought the blade close to his body and cradled it. The fingers of his left hand traced the contours of its edge, stroking it as thought it were his lover. "You should put that back now, Vaahn." Matt had noted the expression on the police officer's face. Vaahn obeyed, albeit with some reluctance. The box was sealed again, and Vaahn insisted on carrying it himself. His parents signed out the items, and listened as the officer explained how the weapons had to be kept under lock and key, and that they were expected to apply for a licence to own them as soon as possible. Vaahn, however, had no intention of shoving his swords into a cupboard somewhere.

It was a quiet trip home. Vaahn stared out of the window all the way, but he was smiling throughout. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Jas and his mother looking over often, their faces glowing with pride. When they got home they threw an ad-hoc party; Chloe made a few cupcakes and let the boys watch TV together until their friends could be rounded up and brought over. "How's it feel to be a free man again?" Becci asked. She had a glass of milk in one hand and a small plate of cookies on her lap. It may have seemed a strange treat for a group of twelve year olds, but for a Penny it was a 'traditional' treat, albeit an extremely rare one. The others had similar fare save for Vaahn, who for the last year or two had begun to show signs of lactose intolerance and so had fruit juice instead. He paused, cookie half way to his mouth, and considered Becci's question, "I don't know yet. To be honest I've had more freedom than you might think this past year; I'll be walking into a full-time job come Monday if I want it." He shrugged and bit down on his confection. "Maybe it will feel different in the morning." Seemingly out of the blue, Simon joined in with, "shame Jackie isn't here." Jackie Romanov, the troubled traitor, had been Rejuved back to six last year. She was now living on the other side of the city. That had also meant a change of schools, and so there was very little contact with her now. Curiously, she had chosen to remain 'Jackie' - being female had apparently grown on her over the years. Their friends were allowed to stay quite late (for Penitatas), and so when they went home the boys turned in. Their parents would have let them stay up late, but both were used to early nights. Jas had technically had a later bedtime than Vaahn since the beginning, but with Vaahn's Fujikawa treatment reversed years before he was entering his pubescent sleeping patterns, and so his bedtime had moved to suit. As such, both boys usually went to bed together, and Jas still technically got to stay up.

The next morning, Vaahn set out to embrace his new role as Noble Lord of House T'Rol. The Noble House had no official grounds yet, but they had rented rooms upstairs in the Rough House and their regular partners knew where Wodka's office / workshop / home was. His duties were not as clear as they were back on Urokon. Icara did not formally recognise their political authority and neither did Urokon, but secondary powers did. The United Colonies, the Free Admiralty and the Kjetkaal States all formally saw House T'Rol as genuine, and so Vaahn set to work learning their political games. "When exactly did the Admiralty claim rule of Jaagenhr?" he asked whilst pouring over news updates. "Four years ago," Wodka said. "Now it's technically a part of the Dawn Kingdom, but the Admiralty don't like that. There'll be trouble there again before long." Vaahn took a swig from the bottle at his side, shaking his head in disbelief at the notion of the Free Admiralty - an organisation that prided itself on being tied to no world - becoming a planetary power. He took a break from reading up on history to attend to present-day matters. A colonial grand tug, hauling two million tons of ore for trade, was looking for a buyer. The request came through House T'Rol because they were the only House on the planet. Wodka had dealt with this sort of thing for years, but now it bore a political spin - the tug was funded by Common House Eidhl, known to be a proxy for the Earl of Oraahnaj. To have dealings with Eidhl, any dealings, would send the message that House T'Rol favoured the Dawn's attempts to fold the Colonials back into the Dawn's interstellar empire. On the other hand, a lot of money was going to trade hands here, and they could always use more money. "Wodka, do you know of anyone in dock who's friendly with Eidhl?" Vaahn asked. The old man came over to peer at the pad. "Well, the only one I know of is Jojn, but he's offering under what the cargo's worth. You'd get more flogging it on the minerals market." "Give them Jojn's contacts," Vaahn said. "If they don't like it they can have it on their flight record that they were unwilling to go via an official intermediary." Wodka laughed out loud at that. "You're an evil little bastard!" "What this one?" the Completas turned his attention to a new pad. "Looking into buying some property?" "Koskr is. He plans to buy a few shops and get rent off them. He's already turned his old office over to an accounting firm and he's making good returns on it." "I like it. Next time he's in town I'll go with him to the bank and see about scraping up a loan."

There was plenty more to do, but most of it he left to Wodka. He ate lunch at a foldaway table and then retreated into the workshop for the afternoon. His beloved hoverbike sat next to Wodka's own vehicle. Both were built of spare parts, in-keeping with tradition. Back on Urokon nobody actually built hoverbikes officially; they were always thrown together out of parts scrounged from written-off vehicles, or stolen from workshops. No true Outrunner would dream of actually buying a pre-built bike. Here on Icara it was different. Vaahn wandered past his vehicle and into a second, larger garage. The skeleton of a third bike was resting on a worktop, whilst its skin and organs were scattered about the place. It was a world apart from the others; every panel was perfect, cut and measured with care and precision to make the finished product look like it had rolled off an automated line. Chrome and vanadium was used in abundance, starkly contrasting the dull green light fixtures that were to be a prominent part of the design. He tested one such light, watching with interest as the filament inside seemed to jump about, as though someone had trapped lightning in the glass and it was trying to break free. He found his tools and set to work. It wasn't easy building a hoverbike, but there were plenty of blueprints and assembly guides to hand. After a few days it all became routine; he split his time between practical work and relearning the political minefield of Kyyreni high society. To his surprise, he found he enjoyed the former almost as much as the latter; he'd done work like it for years as part of the work experience program, but he'd always seen it as an excuse to be around Wodka and other people who were helping him form contacts. Now that he had the chance to walk away from it, he found himself unwilling to. It was a curious revelation, but not an unwelcome one. * * *

Autumn began to make itself known to the Kyyreni on Urokon. Vaahn felt it one morning; a tingling sensation somewhere in his chest. It was a curious sensation - a false Heat, devoid of the primal urge yet compelling him to seek companionship. He turned his thoughts, and his head, to Jas. The boy was asleep next to him, curled up and content. The physical difference between them made any kind of sexual play feel awkward now; Jas was still pre-pubescent, after all. After breakfast, Vaahn decided it was time he paid a visit to Aki. Just as a friend, of course.

The wilting man answered the door when Vaahn knocked. Aki's father seemed almost apologetic as the door swung back and Vaahn was let inside. "Hello, Vaahn. How are you today?" he asked. "I'm fine, thank you. Is Aki in her room?" "I think so..." he was proven incorrect when Aki emerged from the kitchen and hurried to greet her friend. She seemed on edge, though Vaahn could guess why. One nose-full of her scent confirmed it. "Dad, we're going to go play in my room, okay?" before her father could answer she grabbed Vaahn's arm and dragged him down the hall. "Hold on a minute young lady!" her father said as sternly as he could manage. "First I-" Aki cut him off urgently. "Dad, remember what I said to you about this time of the year? We're going to go play in my room!" "Oh," was all he managed. Before anything else could be said on the matter, Aki dragged Vaahn into her room and slammed the door. "Clothes on or off, I don't care!" It was half an hour before she said another word.

Vaahn lay in Aki's bed sticky with sweat, among other things. Aki was resting on her front with her head on his chest. Her irritability had gone, driven out of her with furious determination. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Tender," Vaahn confessed, eliciting a chuckle from Aki. "Aww, does little Vaahn have stamina issues?" Slightly embarrassed he confessed, "I'm not actually in season." "I guessed." She took in the boy's expression and saw something that concerned her. "Is something the matter?" Vaahn shook his head, but his voice carried a hint of regret. "I keep thinking of Soua, my wife... my former wife. She was the last woman I mated with until now. I know it sounds strange, but it feels like I lost something; the last thing I shared with her. It's almost like... I betrayed her somehow." Aki shrugged. "She's dead and gone and can't come back. What's the point of dwelling on her?" He didn't answer. After a while, seemingly bored by the silence Aki said, "You know, that was a lot better than the last time I lost my virginity." The passing compliment got Vaahn's attention. Wistfully she continued, "I was nine when I went into season. I was tight and he loved it, but damn did it feel like I was being split open. Not that I stopped him..." "You like it rough then?" Vaahn asked playfully. He needn't have bothered; he already knew she did. "Oh yes, but I liked those five hundred tathl more. Men sure pay well when you're underage and technically legal." Vaahn rolled his eyes and said wearily, "Haven't you hit the bottom of the barrel yet?" "Nope!" she chimed, pushing herself up and straddling him. "I'm a ruthless, lawless, merciless pirate whore with a love of carnage and a fetish for fire!" Leaning in close, she smugly whispered, "And I am so much better than you, 'Noble' Vaahn." He reached up and twisted two of her nipples. Aki gasped, caught off guard, and wasn't able to rebalance when Vaahn shoved her off. She landed on the floor in a crumpled heap, having managed to snag the bed sheet and drag it with her. "H-hey! You son of a-" she was cut short by a knock at the door. Unconcerned about her nudity, Aki untangled herself and opened the door enough to confront the knocker. "Is everything alright in there?" it was her mother, looking rather uncomfortable. "We're fine. In fact, we were just about to get a shower if that's alright." "Yes, good idea." The woman hesitated. "I'll... leave you to it." "[You have strange parents,]" Vaahn said, slipping into his native tongue so as not to be overheard. "[They have crazy ideas about sex, I know that much.]" Aki gave him a wolfish grin; something Kyyreni were very good at doing. "[They think their God gets upset when people have sex before marriage. I had to remind them it's against the law to try and indoctrinate me.]" They showered together, and returned to dress. "What's so funny?" Aki asked as they returned to her room. "I was just thinking how, once upon a time, I'd have found the idea of bathing with a woman immoral." Aki was awestruck. "By the gods, did that stick up your arse finally come loose, Noble? I guess the Penitatas system is a good thing!" With an overdone sigh he replied, "For a moment I was going to offer you a place in my House, but I guess I'll take that back." "You... you're serious, aren't you? What made you think I'd want to get involved in your House?" "I need you," Vaahn confessed, albeit reluctantly. "I don't like what you were, but you used to be one of the best combat pilots around. When you parole I'd like to have you on my side; I'll do what I can to get you trained up again and we'll get you some combat action. If House T'Rol is going to succeed, we're going to need a way to answer challenges." A laugh spread through the room like a wild fire. "Oh how the mighty have fallen!" "That's what I figured you would say," Vaahn growled. As he reached for the door Aki's hand closed around his wrist. "I'm not saying no!" she said quickly. "To be honest, it's kind of touching that you'd even consider me. Just..." Vaahn allowed a weary smile to form. "[I am well aware of what you are. I just want you to kill people for me; you can stay out of everything else.]" "Suits me fine." Aki said.

* * *

A week or so later, shortly after his first visit from the parole board, Vaahn was faced with another visitor; one he'd expected, though he wasn't entirely sure he'd wanted. "Father," Jasat said as he entered the house, giving Vaahn a respectful nod. The king's entourage vacated the living room, as did Vaahn's parents. Jas attempted to leave, but found Vaahn's hand upon his shoulder, gently steering him onto the sofa. Vaahn sat the Aspatrian boy in his lap, arms closed gently around the smaller boy's waist. Jasat took his own seat. "Still fond of him as ever I see." Jasat stated the obvious, trying to break the ice. "Always," Vaahn said, noting how Jas' tail gave a little wag at the comment. "I suppose I'll have to let you bring him with you then." Vaahn cocked his head to one side. "Am I going somewhere?" The question caught Jasat off guard. "Of course... you're coming home; back to Tu'ri." "That's news to me." Slowly, the puzzled look on Jasat's face became one of disbelief. "You can't seriously want to stay here, father!" "I think I do," Vaahn replied. "I have a new House here; it's small, but respected. I'm becoming known in the community, and I've already got a reputation amongst the young bloods of the Rough House. I could have a good life here." Jasat sat back with arms folded and teeth bared in disgust. "I'm offering you a place in the royal guard and you turn it down so you can pretend to be a Noble amongst the Humans?" "We are recognised by several off-world powers," Vaahn replied firmly, clearly not approving of his son's tone. "But not the Dawn; Icara is not our world and so any claim to high station is void." Vaahn gave his son a long, cold stare. "I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree on that." For a moment it looked as though Jasat was going to start shouting, but when he spoke, he sounded defeated rather than angry. "Fine, you know your own mind best. I don't know why you won't return, but I hope there's a good reason." "Thank you," Vaahn replied, letting his own expression soften. "Did you come all this way for me?" The moment's hesitation said that he had. "No, I was here on other business; a diplomatic meeting. The Icarans fear further violence between us. They're all but begging me to keep the peace." "I hope you keep it then; I for one don't want to see this world burn." "They'll burn it themselves before long, wait and see." Jasat rose from his seat and gave his father a respectful nod. "For what it's worth, if you ever change your mind-" "I won't," Vaahn cut in firmly. "This is where I want to be." The king of the Dawn gave his father a pained look. "I see," was all he could manage. Then he summoned his hangers on and left without another word.

* * *

Technically, Vaahn was supposed to still go to school. It was a matter that was contested, however, given that he now had a full-time job. It was an issue that he discussed with Mr Davenport, who remained understanding. The headmaster even worked to get the correction's board to leave Vaahn alone and stop trying to drag him out of a stable job. As time went on, Vaahn found more and more ways of finding 'work' down at the Rough House. It was easy enough when you worked with Kyyreni, who saw alcohol as a way of easing discussions. Besides, Wodka still worked as a facilitator primarily, so a lot of his business, and the House's business in general, was done with traders who liked to use the Rough House to unwind. On this particular day he was sat at the bar with a half-pint of ale and a hell of a headache from a fight earlier that morning. Vicky the barmaid had no problems serving Vaahn or any other Kyyreni who was technically under-age; she took council from others as to who was old enough to drink. The door opened as his glass hit the bar surface. "Ah, the Noble is here!" Koskr laughed, wandering over to join the young man. "You've been gone a long time." "State the obvious a little more, why don't you?" he said with a grin, waving the bar staff over and ordering his usual. "I landed a trade contract with the Ny'ee. The coffee guilds brought me back in after the crop-domes on Jaagenhr were lost in the war and Ryyksaad's plantations mysteriously burned down the only source of caffeine is Icara again. Funny how that works out." Vaahn reached over and took the man's drink out of his hands. "Started any fires lately?" he asked sweetly, taking a swig. "I'm a trader, not an arsonist," Koskr said firmly, taking back his pint. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, I'd like to introduce you to my cargo..." Puzzled, Vaahn followed Koskr's pointing hand to another man who had just entered. He wore the traditional robes of an Arbiter, though his face was uncovered. The Kyyreni's fur marked him as a Daysider, and his face had deep burns made in a ritual pattern. "I hear that you are Icara's first highborn lord. Perhaps I could be of assistance." "You can't be," Vaahn growled at the Daysider. The Arbiter shook his head sadly. "Dear boy, I expected more from you." "I don't need a Daysider," Vaahn's fur stood on end and a low growl seeped into his voice. "I am an Arbiter first and foremost. That is my first service I came to offer. You will need legal representation, and I am willing to remain on hand to offer that." Vaahn's reply died in his throat when he caught Koskr's glare. "What else are you offering?" he asked instead. "I'm a master swordsman," the Arbiter replied. "I could help you regain your skills, or train others in the art of the duel." "We don't need you," the young Noble growled, and to his shock found Koskr's hand on his collar. Before he could react he was pulled from his seat and floored by a furious backhand blow. "You forget your place, Noble Vaahn!" Koskr spat. "This man is an Arbiter, an enactor of high law, and you will respect him as such!" The entire bar fell silent as Vaahn struggled back to his feet. Koskr continued, lowering his voice without losing any of his conviction. "Furthermore, you are duty bound to serve the interests of this new House. If you have a problem with this man, then you must put it aside for the good of all. He is a valuable ally, Vaahn, and you know it." To his credit, Vaahn did not retaliate. "You are right, Koskr," he said, bowing his head. "Very well, Arbiter, I accept your offer. Do you have a name, or should we address you by your station?" "My name is Hakrim Kor'tyrr," the Hakrim replied, making the sign of the gate with his hands and bowing. "It is an honour to serve."

Slowly, the bar returned to life. Koskr ordered a round and the three men found a table out of the way where they could talk further. "What brings you to my employ then, Hakrim?" Vaahn asked as he settled down in his seat, accepting the offered vodka shot. "I was on Jaagenhr before the occupation," the Arbiter replied, pausing to knock back his spirit. "The Free Admiralty took me in along with seven others to act as legal intermediaries. By accident or design, our grounds were destroyed during the terrorist incidents that preceded the 'Brocknell Liberation' Icara launched. I was the only Arbiter to survive, and the Dawn felt I was not required anymore once their new government was established." Another pause followed as glasses were refilled; Koskr had bought a large bottle, and had already downed two shots of his own during the Arbiter's brief tale. The three Kyyreni drank in unison. "I'll be blunt, Vaahn; it's your son's head I want. I know in my bones he was behind this, that he staged the whole damn affair to deny the Admiralty their world and keep them from becoming a planetary power. I can respect a man with ambition, but the moves he makes are beyond his jurisdiction." "Then arrest him," Vaahn answered bluntly. "Bring him to account." A third shot was downed. "If I could I would have, but I've been unable to find evidence to bring against him. I tried, but leads went cold and informants turned up dead. He is a king, Vaahn; I cannot move against him without proof." Vaahn stared at his own little glass of spirit. He considered the risks of coming home tipsy, and decided it was worth it. The spirit was sharp on the tongue and hot on the throat; the cheap and nasty kind of vodka Koskr loved. He placed the glass upside down on the table to show he'd had enough. "What do you want me to do then, Arbiter? Accuse him of betrayal?" "I want you to do what you believe is best," Hakrim replied. "I know he cares for you. Either he will confide in you, or his bond will cause him to make a mistake when your ambition conflicts with his own. Either way, I'll be here to see it and make him answer for his crimes." Vaahn gave Hakrim a wary glare. Slowly, he turned his glass right way up again. "Just remember that it is my son you speak of, Daysider; until you have proof to support your claims, you would be wise not to slander my family name within my earshot." "I'll keep that in mind... Noble Vaahn." The Arbiter replied. * * *

About three months after his visit, Jasat T'Rol was once again the centre of every news headline. Vaahn watched the story unfold on the holo, his reaction shifting between disgust and disbelief. "Why is this happening?" Chloe asked with fear in her voice. Nobody answered her. The news station continued to repeat the same facts over and over; two second-rate cruisers had been ambushed and destroyed near Maribahl. The attackers struck inside the system, far from any trade route. It was a clear act of aggression that could have only one answer. "He wants a war," Vaahn growled. "Why? What can he possibly gain from this?" The Kyyreni boy felt Jas' grip on his arm tighten. "You have to do something! You could talk to him, make him stop this before it starts!" Vaahn shook his head. "No, I can't. I doubt he'd listen to me now." "Then we're at war again. God help us," Matt groaned. The young Noble fixed his gaze upon the screen, staring at the slowly rotating Starfleet logo that was on display in the top right corner. "I don't know what the Gods can do, but I think I know some men who can help..."