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Author's note: I've stalled for months now on posting this thing, thinking I might find a little time to pencil down a few scene-related sketches. Alas, I just never seem to find that time.

So, absent illustrations be damned; this thing is going up.

Hunters: Symbiosis

"The plight of the aquilean male is an unusual one." Writes Damehj Nan-Saro, Sennek philosopher and essayist.

"Here we have a race whose reproductive method is unlike any other found within the known galaxy. While it's certainly not unusual to find mating systems where females dominate and court males, it is unusual to find one where the 'courtship' can lead to the male's exploitation, and even death.

The dilemma faced by the aquilean male is clear: Any offspring that he sires come with the expense of shortening his own lifespan. For a race whose average lifespan is six times that of it's second closest in terms of longevity, this isn't generally considered a big problem; the male can sire one, two, even three progeny and still live a very long life. There is some variability in the so-called 'life energy' that aquileans possess - though the general principle remains the same.

From an outsider's perspective, the solution to balancing one's reproduction and longevity is simple; stop siring any offspring after one is comfortable with the dissemination of one's own genes. They could only dream of such a simple solution.

Instinctively, all aquilean females desire the same thing as males; to survive and reproduce. Instinctively, they also know that both goals can be accomplished at the same time, if a male is willing to pass on more of his life energy than is needed to sire any offspring. Indeed, it's hard to estimate, but an aquilean female can extend her lifetime substantially if she's able to 'leech' more of a male's life force. While many of them do play fairly, there are no laws or norms in aquilean society requiring them to do so. The mere fact that a group of them - called 'the hunters' by aquilean revolutionaries and refugees - exists solely to pursue and capture unwilling males who have fled from the binding pact of their mateship rites... should speak volumes about aquilean psychology when it comes to male reproductive rights.

In traditional aquilean society, a male never had any say in how much of his energy a female can take; once they are merged in a spawning union, he can do little else but be passive and let her take what she wants. If a male resists, he is liable to be forced to give up even more of his energy than he would have if he'd been passive. Further still, if more than one female is set upon him, he may not survive the siring of those progeny. The trade-off is a cruel one; surrender to her instincts and lose a portion of his life, or resist her and risk losing even more at the hands of the hunters.

It wasn't until first contact was made with them by the Alliance races that the peoples of Aquilae found out it could be any other way. The irony of their situation is that their technology is centuries beyond that of any other known galactic civilization; yet their thinking on such a fundamental issue as reproductive rights is millenia behind the other allied races. Though we fight alongside their fractured revolutionaries to find them a new home, and fight against the traditional aquileans who wish to force the other half of their society to conform and be quiet, we may never see a clear outcome to the differences that divide them. Indeed, nor should we; any society that allows the repression, subjugation and exploitation of half its population will not exist freely so long as the united empires of Mantrin, Sil'ere, Sennek and Megnos have any say about it.

* * *

"I don't quite follow your logic, captain." An impatient-sounding Alliance science councillor said, to conclude a long pause that had fallen over the conference room.

The darkened meeting room and extended office of Admiral Kayen was filled with the glow of its main video monitor, and the palpable tension of Avil. Deessa, by his side, shared somewhat in the feeling - though she remained silent and out of view.

"Councillors." Avil said to the screen, fingers idly flitting about behind his back. "I don't know how else to put it to you, other than how I already have."

Another council official brought his voice up in reply. "So, in summary - you have been having dreams which relate to the classified synthetic host-progeny project that we suspended several months ago. You believe these dreams are... recollections of some kind, of the creatures you sought to bring to life?"

Avil gritted his teeth frustratedly, composure slowly being eroded by the council's persistent lack of faith on this matter. "No, Sir. I believe these are perceptions - not recollections. Real-time, extrasensory perceptions of the last Aquilean Host-replicant pair to have been produced by the project."

"So you believe that this creature somehow survived atmospheric insertion on an uncharted world, and you cite as evidence... your own subconscious perceptions, and a long-defunct legend of identical twins being born from a single union?" The councillor summarized, incredulous.

The captain could do nothing other than nod curtly. "The story of the kho'jai twins seems to corroborate my hypothesis. And the world is merely unnamed - the Lev'sratha charted that planet's location-"

"If I may interrupt, captain." The head councillor, an elderly sennek female interjected, "As a once-and-aspiring-to-be-again scientist, you of all people should understand the deductive process. Data are not to be twisted to fit facts - they either support or negate the predictions that we, as experimenters, generate. Despite your insistence, the facts are: all of your hosts failed to come to life. Your project was suspended pending council review, and you vented the remains of your specimens and equipment into space. If your experiments did not thrive in lab conditions, we have little reason to believe that the vacuum of space or an unexpected crash-landing on an unknown world would have garnered any more success."

The dolphin clenched a fist. "So you won't let me do anything about it."

The head councillor sighed. "Captain, your science portfolio and your military record are the only reason we agreed to this teleconference - along with your commanding officer's perpetual insistence that we speak with you. We simply cannot divert the Lev'sratha or any other fleet resources to investigate this... dream of yours. Defensive lines are spread thin all throughout your sector, and every ship is needed. Regrettably, any council decisions at the moment are overruled by the military headquarters - either way, there is nothing that can be done."

"I could go on my own." Avil offered, doing his best to keep his frustration at bay. "With a survey shuttle and some bio-lab materials, I could-"

"That is the decision of your commander, Admiral Kayen. As a pilot under her command, that is a matter for you to take up with her - not us."

Sensing the conversation had already run on too long, Avil nodded. "Thank you for your consideration, councillors. Your time is appreciated."

"We suggest you leave scientific matters aside for the moment and concentrate on your piloting, captain. Until next time."

The screen darkened as the video link was disconnected. Deessa approached slowly and put a hand on the male's shoulder.

"You did your best." She said, her digitized voice offering little in the way of comfort.

"They wouldn't even listen." He mused.

"Realistically, Avil... why should they? They extended your project time and again, each time you offered them some reason or another why it will work next time, and failed to work this or that time. Maybe you're more suited to piloting than research."

He turned, slowly, and looked her in the eye. "Do you believe me? I mean, clearly the council doesn't. Do you, at least?"

She could only shrug in reply. "I don't know."

"So... any chance I could persuade you to let me take a ship out to that sector?"

Solemnly, Deessa shook her head. "I can't simply let you take off and go chasing after this... hunch of yours. I need you here. You're in command of my interceptors, you'll recall."

Avil folded his arms. "Shrike or Samael could easily handle things while I'm gone. I'd only need-"

"The trip there would take you at least a week in our fastest ship." The admiral interrupted. "The journey itself would take you far outside of Alliance-controlled territory. So you could do... what, exactly?"

"Pick up the specimen, and bring him back here."

Deessa shook her head again. "Out of the question. You're at risk and in unknown territory, and with your fighter wing called to deck every other day - I need you here. The 106th have come a long way since you took command of them; you need to stay focused on the war effort here."

The captain threw his arms up in disbelief. "I can't believe you're stonewalling me on this, Deessa."

"I'm just trying to get you to see reason, Avil. You are a valuable asset, and you are most valuable when you're here, with me."

The male cocked his head. "You sure you don't just like having me around? I think that's fraternization, Admiral."

"Are you balking at the orders you've been given by your commanding officer? That's insubordination. Captain."

Realizing he was out of line, the dolphin sighed and rubbed his head. "Sorry. It's just... it's hard to take a no. I was really hoping they'd see it my way."

Deessa placed a hand on his shoulder. She chirrupped softly - a rare thing to hear her vocalize in the primitive tongue. "You'll just have to let it go."

"Is that an order?" He asked, meekly.

"For now." She replied. "Stick to your piloting, but keep this in mind if it's important to you. When the crew's due to rotate for shore leave and transfers, I'll let you go with some of your old science team, to investigate this thing."

Quietly, Avil nodded. He knew that the next nearest crew rotation wouldn't be for at least two months - possibly longer, if the Lev'Sratha was ordered to stay where she was and coordinate the Allied fleet.

"It's late." She remarked, moving toward the door and motioning for him to exit the room. "You should probably get back to your quarters."

A little relieved that he didn't have to spend the night with her this time, he made for the door and stepped through. "Goodnight, Deessa." He spoke on his way out.

"Sweet dreams, Avil." She replied.

<i>Sweet?</i> He thought. <i>I suppose we'll see what the mistress has in store for him tonight, then.</i>

* * *

"I don't quite follow your logic, Neira." Sarane said condescendingly, arrogantly diverting her eyes away from her servant. Her gaze swivelled to one of her jewel-encrusted hands, as if inspecting her decorations for flaws in the gold and diamonds.

"He's been restless and irritable in his training rounds, Ma'am. He's started to be more picky with his food, too. Yet, whenever I bring him water or anything that might've lived in it - like fresh fish from the live market - he's as happy as can be."

The mistress sighed and looked at Neira, and then at the lake monster. The three of them stood in the entrance hall of the manor, imposing marble statues and bejeweled chandeliers crowding the cumbersome front doors and entryway.

"I certainly hope you aren't asking for a night's pass into town. Most certainly, not with the beast in tow."

Skorp, to his credit, was playing his distractable-and-inept monster role perfectly. Overplaying it, perhaps. He reached for some nearby silver plates and began chewing on them.

"Not at all, mistress." Neira said insistently, shaking her head. "Look at him. He's been cooped up on the estate grounds for too long. If you'd allow me to take him to the lake for the afternoon, we'd be back here before sunset. It'd be just long enough to get him back in something that resembles his old home. He's obviously a creature of the sea, or at least, half - he should have some time to be in his element."

Sarane weighed up the proposition in her mind. The beast had been a little off, lately; less apparent vigour in the bedroom, and less zeal and brutishness in his training bouts with her bodyguards. Perhaps this was just what he'd need to get back to himself.

"Alright, Neira. You can take him for today only. Your chores had better be done, though - and I'm going to have Quelan escort you there and back, just to make sure nobody gets any ideas. Clear?"

The threat of punishment from the mistress constantly seemed to loom over the servant girl's head.

"Clear, m'lady."

Knowing how easy Quelan was to bribe or blackmail, Neira figured she'd have no trouble getting herself and Skorp some privacy. The trip to the lake had been his idea, after all - and although the manor grounds were big enough to roam on foot, Skorp needed to stretch out his wings. If he were ever to escape, he'd need use of them. He'd seen enough birds with wings not-too-different from his own soaring around in the air; it seemed logical to assume that with some practice he could do it as well. Only the lake and rocky escarpment above it would provide a safe proving grounds for him to practice and learn.

Between Neira and Quelan, something of a rapport had formed since they'd started sharing in the same secret indulgence of watching Skorp and Sarane in the mistress' bedchamber. A brief exchange between the two was all Neira needed to secure Quelan's cooperation - that, and two full bottles of fresh ale to help the afternoon pass more 'smoothly'. The fae girl promised not to run off or do anything foolish with the monster while the knight spent his time passed out under a tree. The opportunity for an afternoon off was a welcome one, after all - downtime wasn't really downtime for Quelan as long as the mistress was nearby.

Having marched their way to the lake not-too-far from the manor, Neira pointed her fellow servant to the nearest suitable spot to rest and drink his troubles away. Skorp walked some ways down the shore before splashing his way into the lake, earnestly awaiting Neira's arrival.

The fae had never been much of a fan of the water. Though it pleased her to see Skorp enjoying the water, it would've pleased her less if he'd splashed her in the process. "I'm here!" She shouted and waved, taking a makeshift seat on a nearby boulder.

"Y-you should come in, Neira." Skorp said as he paddled his way around the shallows, using his wings to trap air beneath and keep himself afloat.

"It's too cold for me." She insisted, pulling her knees up to her chin and clutching her ankles in her hands. "You go ahead and enjoy it for me."

"You're m-... missing out on a good t-thing." He pressed.

"I think you just want to get me to take my clothes off."

Skorp was alarmed by her reply. "N-no!" He shook his head vigorously. "Th-th-that's... not at all w-what I m-... m-meant."

His stammering increased considerably when he was panicked, agitated or nervous. Neira could only giggle and smirk.

"You're funny, Skorp. I can't always tell when you're pretending to be a thick, inept creature, or whether you actually are one."

"Well I've m-managed to fool everyone else so far." He affirmed.

"That you have, mister."

The two of them glanced over at Quelan, off in the distance. The fox had took another swig of his ale bottle and hummed quietly to himself - clearly, he didn't care much for what was going on down the shore from him.

The hybrid wallowed around in the water a bit longer. Once Neira was sure the fox was passed out, she mentioned it to Skorp. "It looks like our 'protector' is out cold. If you wanted to try out your wings, maybe now's the time?" She suggested.

Without much delay, Skorp swam to the opposite side of the lake. Having learned to climb trees quite well, climbing the rockface didn't prove to be much more of a challenge for the male - he scaled his way to the top of the elevated terrain and surveyed the lake in front of him. Certainly, it would be an adequate area to glide around in. His gaze moved to Neira's place across the water, and a nervous shiver came over them both. Skorp spread his wings wide and held still, letting the breeze kiss its way through his red plumage.

Birds seemed to do it easily enough. He watched a few of them circling around the lake, and did his best to watch their movements. "There must be a way." He said aloud, to himself.

Skorp gave himself a bounding start toward the edge of the precipice. He tucked in his arms, flailed his wings, and careened straight into the water with a resounding splash.

Neira did her best to muffle the alarmed scream that slipped out of her throat. Moments later, Skorp surfaced - much to Neira's relief, who had assumed the worst.

"That didn't go as expected." Skorp said aloud, bobbing up and down in the water.

"No, no! Please, try and do better next time." She replied, anxious.

Skorp mantled himself back up to the top of the rockface after another climb. He leapt off and repeated his motions as before, much to the same effect.

Repeated attempts started to bring some improvements to the hybrid's flight. As he started out merely falling toward the water, he started to catch air in his wings and slow himself down, or glide for some small distance before splashing into the lake again.

Skorp made his way up the rockface for yet another attempt. Once he reached the top, he sensed something different in the wind; a presence in the woods, something that was neither Neira nor Quelan. Something else.

Overcome with an immediate sense of danger, Skorp lost his focus on the practice he intended to continue and looked over at Neira. In a swift maneuver, he jumped and spread out his wings, gaze zeroed on his friend.

Neira, meanwhile, was oblivious to the thing that Skorp was alarmed about; from her point of view, she saw the hybrid's most successful attempt at flight yet. He glided straight and true, coming toward her with an incredible momentum; she clapped her hands and praised him aloud for doing so well. "You've got it, Skorp! You're doing it!"

The whistling wind overwhelmed his earslits; Skorp couldn't hear her. As his wings carried him toward Neira, he shrieked loudly and made himself rigid in the air; Neira quickly realized the monster wasn't going to stop before he'd hit her, and she ducked panickedly as the male grazed only inches above her.

Skorp skipped off a rock and then again off the ground, trying to keep himself in the air and moving swiftly. His wings carried him into the treeline that bordered the shore of the lake, an aggressive shriek bellowing out from his beak.

Moments later, he was set upon by the danger he'd sensed from the clifftop. A quadruped predator of some type, native to the region, had been creeping up on Neira ever since Skorp had started his practice.

"Skrrr-rrrr!" He'd skrowl loudly from inside the bushes. "Skorp!" Neira yelled from the shore. Frantically, she darted off toward the source of the commotion.

By the time she'd reached him, it was already over. Skorp was kneeling over his would-be assailant, swiftly turned victim by the male's brute instinct and seasoned gladiatorial training.

It was a dammash - a spiny, four-legged stalker of the woods. Generally, anyone who saw one up close wouldn't live to tell about it. Razor-sharp teeth and a slender, muscular body made it an agile and effective predator in the forest.

Neira ran up and yelped when she saw the scene. Skorp was no worse for the wear; the defeated rival laid twitching and whimpering, its last laboured breaths squeezing through its nares.

Skorp ended its suffering with a swift, final blow. He stood up slowly and brushed himself off, refolding his wings. Just like that, it was over.

"Are you alright? Come here, my gods! What happened?" She asked.

The hybrid stood still and observed his felled opponent. There was no satisfaction to be had here; only a solemn understanding that he'd killed something. Similar to whenever he left the arena, he grieved over whatever harm he'd caused. Loss of life, especially.

"I thought you were in danger." Skorp said quietly. "I felt something was wrong."

The two stood over the motionless corpse. "A dammash? All the way out here? It's not like them to leave the wilds and come to where people live."

"It would have killed you, Neira."

"I know." The fae replied, pulling Skorp's arm and leaning against his side.

Neira realized that Skorp could not only provide companionship - he could provide protection. If she were to leave the manor, she'd be safe as long as she'd have Skorp in tow. Nobody would dare try and take her back to the slave market if the monster were nearby.

"My protector." She said aloud.

"Hmm?"

"You'll keep me safe, right, Skorp? As long as we're together?"

"Together?" He echoed. "I... uhm, yes, I suppose." Although Skorp liked Neira, the thought of having some sort of commitment to her made him uneasy.

"Good." She said, closing her eyes.

* * *

The hangar deck buzzed and clattered with the sounds of returning fighters landing in the hangar of the Lev'Sratha. Engines whirred down, pilots popped out of their cockpits and maintenance crews moved in with repair kits and diagnostic tools. Jests and cheers could be heard aloud as pilots and crew met up on the deck.

"Pilots!" The ship's operations officer called out. "Gather 'round!"

The uniformed dolphin stood with a datapad in one hand and was motioning with the other for pilots to approach. Dismounting pilots and gunners moved in, numbering about forty, crowding around the shouting officer.

"Come on, 106th!" He shouted, noticing that he was still missing a few pilots. "We haven't got all night!"

Someone cracked a joke within the crowd. Only the laughter was audible to Avil, as he and Shrike crawled out of their seats and put their feet on the deck. They did a double-time jog to the growing crowd, Samael following up quickly, along with the rest of the 106th unit.

"First of all, a congratulation from quarterdeck and the ship's command staff." He bellowed. "Another day, another flight, people."

Avil's pilots joined him on the outskirts of the crowd and quietly pushed their way in closer.

"You all did good, really good." He continued. "Not every scramble launch goes this well, especially not with every pilot we sent out coming back home alive."

"If not a little worse for the wear!" One pilot shouted from the crowd. Laughter roared up promptly - some fighters had returned to the deck with heavy damage.

"Yes, work on that please." The Ops officer returned, attempting some wit. "For real, everyone - those cruisers were lucky to be in range of our comms, and doubly lucky to have had you lot onboard to come out after them. We did lose some of the distressing ships, but that was before you arrived on-scene. Nothing we could've done until we got there."

The pilots quieted down as the officer continued to speak.

"I have here in my hand, a unit commendation. We don't have any medals to hand out today, but I'm sure we'll pull enough shrapnel from your fighters and stick it to ribbons if need be."

A few of the pilots chuckled. Not the best joke the officer had told.

"For the 89th, who showed outstanding tactical judgement and bravery, above and beyond the mission requirements. Not a single ship in that convoy was lost once we arrived on-scene, and that's thanks to good pilot work and some gutsy maneuvers. Well done, 89th."

Avil sighed and lowered his head a little. He'd hoped that his pilots would've earned some recognition by now.

"Everyone deserves a medal, frankly, but they don't just hand out commendations. Unofficially, though, I've also got something to say about the 106th, direct from the bridge staff."

The captain's head perked up, and a few heads turned to look in Avil's direction.

"The ship's command staff all agree that in the last few weeks, the 106th has shown an astonishing improvement in performance. More confirmed kills, more assists, and more successful missions. We've seen an upgrade of 160% in unit ability and individual pilot scores, on average. You've all done well, but keep in mind: there's no award for 'most improved', particularly when the improvement is from such a poor rating when the unit was formed. There is still work to be done, but nonetheless - keep it up."

Avil turned to smile at Shrike and Samael as those last words were spoken.

"The refugees on the transports we saved owe you their lives. As a result of their testimonials, the 106th has now earned their unit callsign: The dancing guard. Something to do with those spiralling 'baiting' maneuvers they've used to gun down so many enemy ships."

A few more jests and laughs came out from the name's announcement. It sounded silly, but Avil's expression brightened; getting a unit callsign was a good indicator of both status and reputation in the alliance's ranking of fighter pilots.

"That's it, everyone! Your fighter group commanders will debrief you individually. Dismissed!"

The crowd started to scatter casually as the speech ended.

As the newly christened 106th began to disperse, Shrike and Samael took up Avil's flanks whilst walking to the exit.

"Dancing, eh?" Shrike said, chuckling ironically. "I suppose it's better than 'the sleeping guard'."

"Or dancing faeries." Samael added.

"Bah, both of you. Take a minute to just enjoy it." Avil contested, nudging each of them with his elbows. "You especially, Sam. You've shown all kinds of improvement in formation, and wing flight tactics. Your scores are the highest I've seen them, lately."

Samael shrugged and shook some of his mane free from his flightsuit. "If you say so, sir." He responded.

"Oh, cut that 'sir' crap. It's just us." He stopped and looked at Shrike. Her and Sam stopped soon after.

"Well... us, and my muscleheaded, domineering gunner." The dolphin added, swiftly maneuvering to duck the incoming punch from Shrike.

Another quick one-two combination of strikes came from Shrike's clenched fists. Playfully, of course - though she could be quite rough, thanks to her size. Samael moved in to intervene, grasping Shrike's biceps from behind. "Easy, girl. Avil's just teasing you."

"I'd sure love to tease him." She retorted, playfully struggling against Sam's gripping hands. She could easily break his grasp if she wanted to. Shrike was fairly average when it came to strength, relative to her species; mantrin were known for brutish muscle, blessed with far denser muscle tissue than any of the other allied races.

Samael released Shrike and the trio resumed walking toward the hangar exit. "I could do with letting off a little steam." Shrike said aloud, her heavy footfalls felt through the deck by anyone within a few feet of her. "And maybe some refreshment." She'd add.

Sam and Avil glanced at each other. Shrike didn't have a lot of ideas about how to relax, particularly after a long and spontaneous piloting shift.

"I think I know a place." Sam replied. All three of them knew they were talking about the pit, at that point.

"Do you?" Avil added, in a tongue-and-cheek tone. "You'll have to show me."

The three of them chuckled. "I'll be down shortly." Shrike said. "Need to drop off my gear and get cleaned up."

"Meet you there." Sam said, trying not to be obvious. He turned on his heels and started to make for the corridor and lift.

"Just a second." Avil said abruptly, his hand coming out to grasp Samael by the wrist. The sileren's white mane continued in the same direction for another half-second.

Shrike stopped just after the other two. Her head swiveled around to look back at the pair. "Aren't you coming?" She asked.

"Soon." Avil said. "Just going to have a word with my second, here."

It wasn't like the dolphin to be so formal, particularly when the two he was addressing were more than friends. He motioned for Shrike to continue on.

"Whatever." Shrike said, resuming her stride. She did her best to be aloof and leave the captain to his business.

The dolphin nudged his blue-skinned wingman out of the way of the busy foot traffic near the hangar doors. Sam, half concerned and half off-put, was trying to analyze his friend's sudden out-of-character behaviour.

"Everything alright?" Sam asked, concerned for a moment.

"Oh, everything is." Avil nodded. "I just wanted to tell you something without all the other pilots around."

Sam raised a brow. "...Yes?"

"You've shown a huge improvement in your pilot ability. I saw the stats that the operations officer was talking about - of everyone in our wing, your improvement was the highest. Two-hundred-and-twelve percent."

Sam took a moment to process that. It was a higher number than he had been expecting.

"I... uhm. Wow." Sam said, running a hand through his mane. "So you're congratulating me? That's not really necessary. I've been taking my lead from you and following orders, that's all."

"That's what I mean." Avil pinpointed. "You're not trying to dominate the kill board anymore. You're protecting your wingmen and letting the team in. You're supporting when it's important, and attacking when the timing is right. I'm proud of you. You, specifically, have come a long way."

The flight deck continued to be noisy. They stepped even further aside, finding the fuselage of a fighter to stand beside, which also helped to muffle the background clatter of mechanics, crew chatter and maintenance gear.

"Ever since you swallowed your pride and started acting like part of a team, everyone on the team has benefited." Avil continued. "You're starting to show wing leader potential."

Sam rubbed his head. This was starting to feel strange. The captain was usually cocky and businesslike - rarely the sort to give compliments.

"There's probably a long way to go before I'll be granted-"

"I'm going to recommend you for promotion." The captain interrupted.

Silence fell over the males. Awkward, to be sure.

"That's... uhm. Wow." Sam stammered. "I... I don't know what to say. I'd rather not leave the unit."

Avil shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I'm going to recommend you for the 106th."

Another surprise. Sam started to wonder what the hell had gotten into his cetacean friend.

"For the 106?" Sam echoed. "But that would only mean-..."

The dolphin nodded, causing Sam to leave his sentence hanging. Avil's intent was to give up the leadership of his interceptor wing.

"You can't leave." Sam protested, pressing his helmet into his friend's chest. "You're what made the 106th what it is now. And we're still not up to the top ten on the ship's roster. We need you."

Avil rested a hand on the fuselage of the fighter beside them. He sighed and looked to the deck. "You're not ready -yet-, no. But you will be, soon. I didn't think I'd be ready to give up the leadership so soon, but you're proving to be an able second-in-command. You'll make a fine leader, too."

Clearly, the dolphin was holding back on something. It started to nibble at Sam, in the back of his mind.

"This would be a hell of a time to leave." Sam pressed. "The frontier systems are all being threatened by the traditionalist Aquileans. The admiral would never let you just give up the leadership to someone untested like me."

A little smirk crawled its way onto Avil's beak. Until he'd intervened, Sam was going to get the Commander of Fighter Group posting anyway.

A fact that Avil saw fit to remind his friend. "That's how you would've had it earlier this year. Remember how badly you wanted it, then?"

"I learned." Sam retorted. "You were right about me back then - I thought I knew everything about piloting and leading. You taught me that leading soldiers is a thing that's earned, not given."

Avil's gaze swiveled back up to meet the sileren's. He sighed.

"So you don't want the position?" The dolphin asked.

"It's not that I don't want it." Sam would reply. "I just... didn't think it would happen this way, or this soon. Besides - if you quit the 106th, where would you go? There aren't any other wing leader spots available on this ship, unless one of them gets gunned down in the next skirmish."

Avil had kept his science background off the record. Sam didn't know, and at that juncture, the dolphin wasn't willing to explain his reasons for wanting to leave.

"There's something I have to do." The captain said in a lowered voice.

The cryptic and vague answer didn't sit well with Sam. "What is it?"

The answer weighed heavily on Avil's mind he wanted nothing more than to tell Samael about his experiments and his unusual dreams. He refrained. Partly because the explanation was a long one, and partly because he didn't know how seriously Sam would take it.

"It's not me, is it?" Sam asked, a concerned look crossing through his eyes. "Something...?" He was afraid to fill in the blank.

"No, no. Not like that." Avil said curtly. "There's something important to me that I have to take care of. It entails me leaving the ship for awhile. I'll come back, of course. Not sure when, probably a few weeks or more. It's complicated."

Sam saw that he wasn't going to dissuade his friend from this course of action. As Avil's subordinate, by rank, there wasn't much the sileren could do either way.

"Does the admiral know?" Sam asked.

"I haven't told her yet." Avil answered. "Besides, I still need to write out your recommendation."

"Don't write it too fast." Sam said. "I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

Avil's beak twisted into a grin. "Is that a touch of humility I hear in your voice? Your highness?"

Sam jabbed his friend swiftly in the gut, using his helmet. Scared of his identity being betrayed, and that last bit being uttered a little louder than Sam was comfortable with, suddenly made his pulse surge in his veins.

"You keep your voice down. Peasant." Sam hissed, daggers in his gaze.

Avil sputtered and caught his breath. "Gods." He muttered. "You definitely don't hit like a prince."

Sam jabbed his friend again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The dolphin chuckled. "Nothing, nothing. It's just an expression." He collected himself and stood upright again.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" Sam asked. Royal impatience started to bubble up in his tone.

The captain rolled his eyes and pulled his friend along, making strides toward the exit of the hangar. "That's all. I think I'm going to head to my quarters - the water'll do me some good."

"So early?" Sam asked. "The night's just getting started. Depending on what shift you run."

Briefly, Avil weighed up the notion of retiring early or working out some 'tension' with the crew.

"I suppose I could take a few minutes to mingle. Today's been all business."

Sam smiled as he heard that. "Have you got anywhere in mind?"

As they reached the door to the hangar, Avil split paths with Sam and started walking toward the crew deck. He turned his head, winked once at the sileren, and moved on.

It was as good as saying aloud: "I'll meet you in the pit".

* * * * *

The manor's walls echoed with a furious shriek from its owner. "Where is she?!"

Apparently, Sarane had found out about something most distressing. That her private nights with the lake monster were not only being eavesdropped on by Quelan and Neira, but that the staff and servants of the household had all eventually found out. Two careless housemaids were caught discussing the latest steamy night casually between them; the lady's keen ears overheard enough to warrant eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation. Having heard much more than she would've liked, Sarane stormed off toward the guards' barracks, fists clenched. Ready to tear her guard captain limb from limb.

Neira heard the commotion from her servants' quarters in the far corner of the manor. It was late; her shift had ended barely a few hours before, and she'd only just managed to lay her head on the pillow for a bit of sleep. Cautiously, she rose from her bed and perked her ears.

Panicked footsteps rumbled throughout the halls, both on her level and the floors above. Her heart started to flutter, a hint of danger was in the air. The fae slipped into her work clothes and peeked out the door of her small room, her guts twisting up as the sounds she heard reached her ears more clearly.

She saw a couple of her coworkers sprinting through the cross-hall, one after another. The fae pulled her violet hair into a ponytail and stepped out to get the attention of her fellow staffers.

"Hey!" She said in a loud whisper. "What's going on?"

"Neira!" One of them said upon turning around. "It's the mistress!"

"The mistress -what-?" She pressed. "What's happening?"

"She's gone mental." The servant girl replied. "Shouting, breaking things, going wild! I think she overheard some of us talking about her relations with the beast-"

"Oh my gods." Neira said, shocked. Her heart pounded in her ears.

"You probably aren't safe here, Neira. Go back to your quarters! You'd best stay out of sight."

It had to be now, of all the moments for it to happen. The fae swallowed the lump in her throat and got a grip on her situation. Surely, if the lady of the house knew that someone had been eavesdropping on her soirées with Skorp, it would get back to her and Quelan as the sources of the information. Neira could also be doubly sure that her mistress would turn her in to the slave markets, or worse, once the interrogations of her house staff were complete.

Sarane, meanwhile, had 'negotiated' her way up to Quelan and had gone to work on him rather fiercely; whether lifeless or merely unconscious, his body fell limp to the floor as his subordinates simply watched, cowered, and stood back. The lady's fury had seemed to have no limit.

"For months, and whenever it pleased him." She mused aloud, white fur standing on end, brimming with anger. "He'd simply... watch."

Sarane stared at the body of her former captain of the guard. She shot a burning gaze at the three remaining foot soldiers in the room.

"If any of you hope to avoid his fate, you'll tell me who else knew about this." She growled.

The guards were still in shock from watching their mentor suffer what he did at the hands of their employer. All three of them, foxes, had their ears pinned flat behind their heads.

"M-m... mistress." One of them stammered, ready to submit some information to the irate feline - in the hopes she'd leave them alone.

"Speak. Quickly." She insisted, scooping Quelan's knife pouch, belt, and coinpurse off his body. Claws were ready to tear out the knave's throat if he weren't going to be any more forthcoming.

"W-well. We've seen him and little Neira walking upstairs together on m-more than a few nights."

His breaths were shaky and shallow. Briefly, Sarane's gaze narrowed as she weighed up the possibility.

"Of course. She probably started this whole thing."

The lady growled and fastened the belt and knife pouch to herself. "She dies. You three, bring your bows. And arrows, idiots."

Neira, on the opposite end of the house, had run back into her quarters and fetched her runaway care package. A sheepskin, tied together at the ends with a strap for carrying, and enough food rolled up within it to last her a week. Flints for starting a fire, and a couple of snares for catching small forest fauna. The sheepskin itself was just big enough to cover her up on a cold night in the wilds - a worst-case-scenario care package for herself, should it ever come to her needing to flee the manor.

"Mistress is probably in the barrack." She said to herself, mentally mapping the route she would need to take to avoid the vindictive feline, and get to her friend the lake monster.

The fae darted out of her room, sheepskin bag bouncing off her hips with each stride. The winding, dank hallways which led to the cellar were dark, with torches nearly all burnt out for the night.

Once she'd found her way to Skorp's humble living space, she pressed her body to the door and peeked into the window bars. "Skorp!" She spoke in another loud whisper.

Silence at first. Her heart surged even harder in her chest. "Come on, Skorp! I know you're in there!"

The door swung open suddenly, the hybrid having been hidden just out of view. "Neira." He said. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you." She pinpointed. "There's trouble. The lady's-"

"I know." He interrupted. "We have to go. It's like we talked about before."

"Come." She said, grabbing his arm. "Can you see in the dark?"

"No." Skorp replied flatly.

"Then hang on to me."

The pair scampered through the dark halls of the manor's underfloors; there was hardly any light and the hybrid was hardly the most sure-footed being at times. His feathers collected dust and dirt from the walls as he was forced to run through the confined corridors.

Finally, a glimmer of light reached the pair as they treaded back toward the stairs which led to the ground floor. Heavy footfalls could be heard on the other side of the door, some distance from it still; the clanking of armor and chainmail.

Knowing this boded ill for her and the lake monster, Neira quickened the pace and tightened her grip on Skorp's forearm. "Come on, come on, come on!" She repeated, her face twisting into an elated expression as she rammed the doorway open with her shoulder.

Down the hall, Sarane was sprinting toward the hybrid's quarters with her trio of guards in tow. "There they are!" She hissed, pointing down the hall and breaking into a sprint. "Shoot them!"

Sarane flung a knife in their direction.

It struck Skorp's dense plumage, forcing a stinging yelp from the male, though it didn't do any serious harm. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and Neira's. The chase continued.

Both parties sprinted their way through the halls until the nearest door to outside came upon them. It was the exit to the training yard for Sarane's guards. Knowing the risk it carried, Neira hastily made the decision to bolt toward it and push her way through. The door creaked loudly as it opened, letting in a wash of cool night air as the pair were expelled from the mansion.

"Unbelievable!" Sarane shouted, not far behind. "Everyone! Whatever you have. Swords, daggers, bows! I don't care. Stop them! By any means!" She ordered.

Neira started to panic. All around them was nothing but woods and thick treeline; their speed and chance of escape would diminish substantially if they were to try and run straight through. "My gods... where do we go now? Skorp!" She pleaded, urging the lake monster to think. Surely, he could come up with something - his thinking always seemed to improve substantially when his life was in danger, such as in the arena.

His head swiveled about once and reached much the same conclusion that Neira had. The forest was not an option. Circling around the manor grounds could very well see them run into more guards. The only way out was up.

"Grab on." He ordered, picking Neira up by the hips and raising her up to his shoulder. One arm grasped her while he began to scamper up the rock and wood of the manor's outer construction.

Skorp climbed his way up to the terrace and gardens. Not far, but enough to give them some breathing room. Sarane erupted from the same door moments before they reached the surface.

"Spread out. Find them. They can't be far. Use your eyes and ears, lest I gouge them out!" She ordered.

As the mercenaries surveyed their surroundings, Skorp looked up the belltower of the manor, which ran up alongside the main façade of the mansion. Whether or not he was ready, he would have to put his wings to the most difficult test they'd face; carrying him, and the extra weight of his friend, while fleeing a vengeful mistress in the dark.

"Hold on tighter." Skorp insisted, hoisting her up onto his back and placing her hands on his shoulder and chest. Wings unfurled a little to help him stay balanced. He grasped onto the rocky siding of the manor and started to mantle his way up.

"What are you going to do?" Neira asked, still panicked. Skorp could feel her heart thumping against his ribs.

"Going up." He stated plainly.

"Gods, this is a nightmare..." She remarked, holding on for all she was worth as Skorp clambered upward.

It didn't take long for one of the guards to notice. More of them had joined in the search, a befuddled Sarane ready to strike one of them down, just as another bellowed from the training yard.

"Up there, m'lady!" He pointed. "Look, It's him! Climbing!"

"Draw your arrows! Bring him down!" Sarane ordered.

Arrows whisked past Skorp's head as each guard took their turn to draw and release. Sarane flung a knife or two, but quickly realized there was no way they'd reach far enough.

"Hold on, Neira. We're past halfway." Skorp murmured, as he could feel her face buried into the base of his neck. She gritted her teeth and did the best she could to muffle her frightened crying.

"Give me that." Sarane ordered, ripping the bow and quiver from the hands of the nearest mercenary. She strung up an arrow, drew it back and let the shaft fly loose.

It struck Skorp in the leg. He shrieked aloud as the stinging pain rippled through his thigh. It caused him to slip down a step, but his grip was still firm; he pressed on and up toward the top of the bell tower, freedom merely steps away.

"Skorp!" Neira shrieked alarmedly as the beast's grip faltered in that moment.

Determined, the hybrid pressed on. Nearing the top of the bell tower, his leg stung with the arrowhead still partly buried. A long, laboured grunt rumbled out of his beak as he hoisted himself up onto the ledge; arrows continued to hiss their way past him.

The guards on the ground below shouted and cursed at the beast, and their lack of ability to confirm their arrow hits in the dark. Sarane continued to draw and release arrows, many of which struck Skorp's plumage and fell.

Hurriedly, the beast swiveled his head about, in search of the best route to take flight. It was dark, his bearings were off, and adrenaline pushed him to spread his wings out and cast off before thinking his course through.

Just like he'd practiced at the rocky escarpment by the lake, he tried his best to look far and aim toward something. A target. In the dark, there was little he could focus on - the disarrayed swarm of arrows chasing after him and Neira's panicked whimpering provided little help.

"Please, please, please, let me live through this..." Neira whimpered and repeated as Skorp readied to fly.

"Stop them!" Sarane shrieked from the ground. "Get them down from there!"

In a swift movement, Skorp leapt from the belltower. Wings spread wide, legs tucked back, head straight and eyes forward. He fell nearly straight downward for a moment.

Neira screamed. For sure, she believed this was her end.

As Skorp picked up speed, the air whipping through his wings was moving fast enough to generate lift; he dove down, and then upward just as quickly. The hybrid glided up toward the forest canopy and past the guards who continued to re-string arrow after arrow, now to little effect.

"The beast... learned to fly?" One of the guards said aloud, completely taken aback by the sight of Skorp in mid-air.

Neira clung so tightly to Skorp that her little claws were starting to break his thick, rubbery skin. He could only grit his teeth and focus on keeping enough air in his wings to continue the glide.

As they travelled past the treeline and over the forest, the arrows ceased. A loud, frustrated shriek could be heard from Sarane.

Embarrassed and frustrated, the lady stared into the dark of the forest and clenched her fists. "They will not survive the night. And if they do, I'll find them, skin them, stake them in the yard and mount the beast's head to the wall with an engraved plaque."

She turned and tossed the bow she'd been using back to the guard she'd plucked it from. "Make a search party. Spread out and find them. Not one of you is to rest until they're caught and brought back to me."

She stormed off into the manor, leaving her guards to find some way of executing the instructions she'd laid out for them. None were eager to chase Skorp and Neira into the woods, but none would dare re-entering the manor with the mistress still fuming.

* * *

"I hope this is everything." Avil said aloud, surveying the contents of his still-being-loaded shuttle.

Maintenance 'bots loaded heavy crates and containers full of the dolphin's old laboratory gear - not all of it had been vented into space on that fateful night.

"It's everything you asked for." Beagle replied, walking from the wings toward the loading ramp where Avil was standing. A datapad was in her hand, and she flicked through the list once more. "Unless you forgot anything."

"I don't think so. Did you remember my-"

"Your book collection and your holo-puzzler. Yes." Bea said, interrupting. "You asked me that already."

Avil rubbed his melon. "Yeah. Sorry. It's going to be a long flight, and I can't just fill up on sedatives and sleep my way there."

Bea nodded as she tapped on her pad, instructing the drones in the hangar to load the last remaining crates. "You will have plenty to occupy yourself." She stated. "Including pouring over your raw data from all of your past work. If this thing is really alive, you need to figure out what you did to make it work. And, if it's really affecting you like it is... maybe find a way to not have every single replicant share the perceptions of their progenitor? Or vice-versa?"

The two shared a chuckle, Avil's being a little more uneasy.

"What a strange week it's been." He remarked.

The steely sound of warm engines in the hangar and maintenance work on the Lev'sratha's complement of fighters filled the room. The pair of dolphins looked out at the crew going about their duties.

"You sure you need to do this now?" Bea asked. "It's not exactly a great time."

"He's in danger." Avil explained. "Real danger. The mistress is going to hunt him. He's out in the wilderness, alone, and I have no idea what dangers he could run into. He may very well die before I get there, and if he does - if he expires before I can find him and bring him back, with whatever trick it was that brought him to life - my life's work will be over. That planet is hostile, savage and primitive. I need to get there, get him out and get back here. It's that simple."

Bea nodded and rubbed her chin. "Such a story, you've told. The mistress, the arena, the guards, the little purple companion... the language, the flying..." Bea enumerated nearly all the elements of Avil's recounting to her.

The male shot her a bemused glare. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do." She'd reply. "It's too far-fetched and too detailed to just... make up."

He rolled his eyes. "Your cynicism is appreciated."

Chuckling, Bea smacked him in the chest with her palm. "Someone's gotta be your conscience. Also, have you considered - the admiral's either going to hang you or arrest you for deserting."

Avil thought it over. "True. But my piloting isn't what's going to end this war. I'm only one officer, Bea - besides. I've filed my leave request and submitted my recommendation for promoting Samael to wing leader."

"Both of those things need a CO's approval to be legit." Beagle remarked. "You didn't even ask. You just left the pads on her desk and came down here."

Just then, Samael and Shrike bounded their way over to the shuttle and walked up the loading ramp. "There you are!" Avil said aloud, a smile spreading wide over his beak.

"We came as soon as we got your message." Sam announced.

"We sure did." Shrike added, giving Sam a playful nudge.

A quick once-over from Avil revealed that Shrike was in her casual clothes, and Sam, although in uniform, had a very heavily dishevelled mane and hadn't done up his snaps or zippers all the way.

"No doubt." The captain said cheekily, eliciting a smug grin from Shrike and a little blush from Samael.

"Hey!" Sam protested. "It's not my fault that your timing is piss-poor."

"Come on, guys." Avil pleaded. "This might just be the last time I speak to either of you as your superior officer."

Shrike scoffed playfully. "Pff. Superior."

Sam stepped forward and peered into the cargo hold of the shuttle. "It's really happening, then? You're leaving?"

"No, I'm not." Avil said, sarcastically. "I just like to load all my stuff into the back of a military recon shuttle once a week to give the maintenance 'bots something to do."

"That's the last of it." Beagle remarked aloud, as the last drone whirred its way out of the shuttle.

"So... what happens now?" Sam asked, in earnest. He didn't want to lose the first friend he'd made since coming onboard the carrier.

Briefly, the captain surveyed the contents of his shuttle. Stacked, piled and packed; his shuttle would have just enough room to carry him, and his gear.

"I have to find him." He explained. "The replicant that I grew, and then vented into space, is alive. Bea can tell you the whole story on how I know this. I have to find him on the unnamed planet, and protect him until I can get him off-world. From there I bring him back, validate my research, and hopefully find some way of... replicating the result. If I'm successful in that..."

Avil paused a moment. He hoped that what he'd say afterward would turn out to be true.

"A way for aquileans to propagate our genes, our species - without us having to die in the process."

The trio of crewmates were silent. Beagle already knew the scope and goals of Avil's research, but Shrike and Samael didn't. They were a little dumbfounded.

"A way to end the war. Traditionalists wouldn't have any reason to fight us once we shared this with them."

Samael was the first to speak. "Is that even possible?"

Avil rolled his eyes. "It is. Without the science background, I can't really explain how."

Shrike scoffed again. "I leave the science to the scientists. I'm in this fleet to fight, and to enjoy myself while doing so."

"Same ol' Shrike." Bea commented.

Sam stepped onto the loading ramp for the shuttle and looked at the contents. "This is a lot of stuff." He observed.

"It's everything I need." Avil remarked.

"Aren't you going to be pretty far out of support range?" The sileren asked, concerned. "If you get into trouble, you'll be in a remote system - help would take a long time to reach you."

Having considered that, the captain spoke up. "We were hiding in that system, initially, to duck out of traditionalist fleet movements while we were on a return course to the main fleet. The traditionalists don't know about that system, or that planet. Hunters aren't likely to come for me there."

"Surely, there's a chance." Sam argued.

"I've already plotted out my course." The dolphin rebutted. "I'll drop in from the atmosphere and set the shuttle to autopilot - from there, it'll fly to the single moon orbiting the planet and reduce its power consumption to minimal. I'm going to be careful - and minimize the odds of being found. When I've got my precious cargo, I'll recall the ship in a remote area and pilot it back home."

Shrike seemed utterly bored. At best, this meeting was an interruption of her steamy late-morning with Sam; at worst, she'd have to deal with him being in command of the interceptor wing. Not that she minded him, of course, but having established a rapport with Avil - she didn't want to have to give him up.

"What's your ETA and ETR?" The mantrin asked, arms folded over her chest.

"Can't be sure." The captain replied. "The journey's nearly two weeks in this shuttle, then I have to find the creature; I can only get a general location from the sensors, so I'll have to mingle with the locals and find him myself. Then, two weeks back... I could very well be gone more than a month."

Sam stepped in again. "What of your role here? And the admiral? Surely she isn't going to let you go while we're preparing for an incursion."

"I've submitted the documents for an unplanned leave and for a recommendation for promotion." Avil explained. "With that approval, it'll be a simple-"

He stopped mid-sentence. A paleness came over his face, as his eyes focused on something ahead.

Alarmed and confused looks came over the faces of his crewmates. As they turned in the direction of his focal point, the reason for his sudden interruption became quite clear.

Standing at the foot of the platform where everyone was gathered, the admiral herself. Fists clenched, teeth gritted. Flushed and red. She was angry.

"I'll handle this." Avil said softly. His crewmates stood aside and stood upright; the Admiral commanded respect, at least as much as their captain did.

Shaky and a little nervous, driven by purpose and a little spite, Avil stood firm in front of his commanding officer. Taking on a formal stance with his hands folded behind his back, he looked up and away from her gaze. "Admiral." He stated flatly.

Being all worked up, her voicebox would have trouble interpreting her thoughts and correctly outputting them as speech. With some restraint, she'd manage to speak. "You can't go."

"You can't stop me." He'd counter. "I've submitted the necessary paperwork and you can't just veto it on a whim."

"You will be leaving your crew and your admiral in a tactical situation. It's desertion, plain and simple. You will be discharged for this."

"Unless you approve the documents I've submitted, ma'am."

Deessa gritted her teeth and squeezed her fists in more firmly. "You will be leaving your unit while in a leadership position."

"Samael Cordova is a more-than-capable leader with experience in the unit, which is why I've recommended him for promotion in my stead."

Further frustrated, Deessa stepped in closer. "Drop the formality and simply look me in the eye when you speak." She ordered.

Possibly the only request of hers that Avil would accommodate at this point, he relaxed his stance and let his eyes meet hers. Full of daggers, she was. He sensed this wouldn't end well.

With his closest crewmates watching on, Avil didn't want to lose his composure. He folded his arms over his chest in turn. "Why did you come down here, Deessa? You could've seen from the letters I left on your desk that I'm not going to back off from this."

"I want to stop you from leaving your fleet, and leaving me, in a desperate situation. From throwing away your career for a fool's errand."

"The fleet doesn't need me as badly as you need me, I think." He pinpointed.

"Don't flatter yourself." She retorted.

"Don't delude yourself, Deessa." The captain returned. "You wouldn't be down here personally. You wouldn't have left the datapads unsigned and come down here yourself if you thought this was a crew problem. You feel like this is me wanting to get away from you, and frankly, that's what this is about - isn't it?"

Avil was bluffing at this point. Deessa, too frustrated to be able to speak, vocalized an angry set of clicks and reddened further on her face and cheeks. He seemed to have rehearsed this entire litany on the chance she'd want to talk him down.

Awaiting her reply, Avil tapped his foot impatiently. The admiral's hand raised upward slightly in response, the fist opening to reveal a small, shiny object in her palm.

It was a commander's rank and brass pips. A promotion offered, no doubt as a last resort, to keep the dolphin from taking off on his little crusade.

Avil snapped just a little. This was the last time she would try to manipulate him.

"This is the crux of our relationship, isn't it?" He began. "You use me to get something you want. I use you to get something I want. Back and forth we go, each of us finding some angle, some favour, some way to exploit the other. And I'm sick of it."

Deessa's eyes started to well. With some frustration of his own coming to mind, Avil decided to pull his verbal filter, momentarily.

"This is your way of trying to keep me close." He continued. "To keep me docile, to keep me near you. That someday soon, you can just... snatch me up, form a mateship pact and syphon me for two, three, maybe four offsprings' worth? Keep me as a docile, obedient father to your children, while you suck the life out of me for the extension of your own?"

After a brief silence, Deessa managed to speak. "It wouldn't be like that."

"It wouldn't be any different from now. Have you forgotten - I'm mated to Bea?"

Silence was all Deessa could give him. A pair of tears, almost in unison, streaked down her face and jawline.

"I'm breaking the cycle. It didn't have to be this way, Deessa - but it came to this. I'm sick of the manipulation, sick of half the ship gossiping about us, and sick of serving under you with the notion of a binding, interminable relationship looming over my head. I'm not doing this to break away from you, but if that's what you're going to make this about... you leave me no choice. In the end, you're no better than the hunters - except instead of threatening my life if you don't get what you want, you threaten my career, my research and my sanity."

He turned and started to walk back toward his shuttle.

"You will regret leaving." Deessa said aloud in her synthetic voice. "You cannot go."

Avil stopped briefly in his tracks and turned his head to respond. "If you care about me at all, you'll let me go. And if you hope to see me again, you'll make sure that I can return without issue, and send help my way if I call for it."

Flustered, defeated and heartbroken - Deessa had little else to do beyond wipe the tears from her face and leave.

More than a little flushed himself, Avil double-timed his way back to the shuttle. His awaiting crew were mortified that arrest crews might be on their way soon, if he didn't make haste for the launch.

"Are we good to go?" He asked, looking in Beagle's direction.

"Preflights are done. I'm just getting clearance from the control booth for your launch." She'd reply.

Sam and Shrike stood, silent and a little baffled. "How do you know she'll let you go?" Sam asked.

"She hasn't stopped me yet." Avil observed.

Now feeling the gravity of the situation, Shrike looked at her friend and captain with an air of concern. "Any instructions you'd want to leave us with while you're gone? And in case you don't...?"

The thought of Avil not returning was unspeakable, but nonetheless, it was a possibility.

The captain's gaze bounced back and forth between his three crewmates. He offered a disarming smile.

"Bea: Stay with the science division and get some support from medical for whenever I get back. Sam: Take care of the unit while I'm gone. And Shrike..."

The mantrin straightened her posture and looked the dolphin in the eye. Respect was a hard thing to earn from mantrins - far harder than their affections.

"Take care of this one." Avil continued, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. This caused the sileren to straighten up as well. "He's got the makings of a good leader. Maybe not admiral material yet, but he's well on his way. Treat him like royalty - to me, my friend Sam is no less than a prince."

Sam flushed a little and blinked incredulously. He sincerely hoped that Avil had remained honourable, and kept the sileren's true identity a secret.

"Will do." Shrike acknowledged.

As Avil stepped into the shuttle and thumbed the control for ramp retraction and doors, Bea's own composure had started to erode just a little. Her heart skipped a beat. She sincerely hoped this wouldn't be the last time she'd see her mate.

"Avil. Don't let this be goodbye." Bea said softly.

"I won't." He replied firmly, just before the doors on the shuttle sealed themselves tight.

• * * *

Wind whistled through Skorp's plumes as the beast carried Neira through the air. His wings were straight out and rigid, as the hybrid tried his best to maintain a steady glide. They began losing height, and speed - and with that, a further loss of height. Small birds scattered through the night as the male started to brush dangerously close to the treetops.

"Hang on!" He announced aloud. "This is going to be rough!"

The odd branch and leaf smacked his leg or knee - as the descent continued, more bits of tree would slap more bits of the monster. He tucked his head down and gritted his teeth, whilst shielding his eyes and doing his best to cover Neira from the onslaught.

Branches snapped, whipped backward and cracked freely from the trees as the pair descended into the canopy of the forest. Skorp's mass and inertia carried them through the foliage for quite a ways, but it didn't take long for their flight to grind to a halt.

The lower they got, the thicker the branches they ran into. Loud cracks and ruptures could be heard all through the surrounding area. Neira screeched aloud as they tumbled toward the ground.

Thinking quickly, Skorp lowered his feet as they neared the ground and started to flail his legs about in a running motion; once the first foot touched solid earth, he and Neira bounced upward slightly, then again, and again. Heavy footfalls rumbled through the ground as the male clumsily tried to stop moving forward.

Eventually, it worked. He wobbled and nearly fell over with Neira still firmly clutched to him. A solid minute or so would pass before the fae even considered loosening her grip; arms were cramped and sore from the ordeal, heart still pumping wildly in her chest, muffled whimpers smothered against Skorp's shoulder. Shakily, Skorp lowered himself the ground, sitting in the dead leaves on the forest floor.

"Neira." He said softly. "It's alright. We're safe, for now."

It took the fae a moment to regain her senses and open her eyes. It was dark out; moonlight leaking through the tree canopy was the only illumination provided by the otherwise quiet, eerie night.

"Are you sure?" She asked, incredulous. Her ears perked up slightly as she listened into the dead quiet of the forest, head swivelled about as she surveyed what little she could see.

Skorp said very little. His head hung low, arms crossed over his chest as he caught his breath. Wings refolded themselves lazily and clung loosely to his back.

"We've come pretty far." Neira remarked. "And the trees are thick. We might just be lucky enough to have gotten away."

"We'll have to keep moving, to make good our escape." He remarked in turn.

Upon hearing that, Neira looked Skorp in the eye and canted her head to the side.

"You're more than just an animal." The fae remarked, after a brief pause.

The hybrid didn't reply; he let out a 'hrmph' as he slouched against the nearest tree trunk. Flight had been a dizzying experience, and maintaining it for as long as he did warranted a bit of rest.

Neira moved to join him, lowering her sheepskin bag from her shoulder and leaning against his side.

"What happens next?" Skorp asked. His lack of life experience put him at a disadvantage here; he could fight for as long as was needed, but without any respite, his life would be no easier than under the 'care' of Sarane.

"We keep moving." Neira replied. "Once we have some daylight, we should move as far from the estate as possible.

"After that." Skorp pinpointed. "We can't run forever. You need clean water and cooked food, clothes that aren't battered and dirty. I can live out here, but we need to get you somewhere safe. So you can be with the other... land dwellers."

Neira rubbed her head. "You're right. I... can't think of anything right now. I'm still all shaken up."

She shivered against Skorp's side. Cold air blew in and swept up the leaves on the ground; it stirred up Neira's hair and the beast's plumes.

"I should build a fire. I'll catch a cold if it stays like this." Neira stated.

"No." Skorp followed, protesting the idea. "If Sarane's men are still looking for us, surely they'll see it."

Again, Skorp's intuition took Neira by surprise. "You're right. Can you help cover me up?" She tugged at a wing, meekly requesting that they cuddle up.

Without hesitation, the beast unfurled the wing and let it lay partially limp, for Neira to pull up over herself like a shaggy cover. It was enough to keep the chill away. It didn't take long for her to lay her head down and surrender to the moment.

Skorp's eyes closed and his head canted downward.

"Hey." Neira said, nudging the creature softly.

"What?" Skorp asked, not sure what he could have done wrong.

"You're supposed to say good night." She stated.

Confused, Skorp tilted his head. "Why?"

"It's... uhm. Well, it's sort of a blessing." Neira explained. "When you say 'good night' to someone, you're wishing them a pleasant sleep, without bad omens or scary dreams."

"Oh." He'd reply, finding the connection between nightmares and hopes for restful sleep to be a flimsy one. Nonetheless, he found the spirit in which the statement was offered to be compelling, given their situation.

"Good night, Neira." He said softly.

"Good night, Skorp."

• * * *

"Computer." Avil spoke aloud. "Time remaining to next jump relay?"

After a brief calculation, the shuttle's navigation computer displayed a time reading: 2 hours, 14 minutes.

Not long enough to sleep. Long enough to do a little work.

"Begin audio log recording and prepare to transmit."

The ship's computer made an audible chime, with a little 'audio recording' reading flashing along the bottom-right of every display in the cockpit.

"With my trip a little under halfway done, I have been making some progress on the data review and analysis for the latest replicant to come out of the artificial host-progeny project that I was forced to conclude a few months ago. Although the hosts and clones all failed leading up to the last one, I have tried to narrow down the list of factors which led to the potential success of that case, and failure of all cases previous.

The technique of taking a piece of an aquilean symbiote, cloning it using Sennek biotechnology, and propagating it into a full organism worked on a tissue level only - we can grow a new individual using a sample, but that individual may as well be dead. No brain activity, no life energy, no... life of any kind. It wasn't until we'd tried to clone an entire aquilean, using an entire aquilean, and some tech that we'd stolen from the traditionalists that they'd originally used for capital punishment. All of it was risky, of course, which is why I had volunteered myself and underwent the procedure.

You remember this, Bea. It came out the same as before, and that was when they'd decided to terminate the project. I had inserted the symbiote into the new host that we grew, but it seemed useless. At first, no sign of life. It was just as dead as the others. When I vented it into space, my intent was to have the project materials float in space or orbit the planet we'd found - that I'd be able to come back sometime when I have an extended leave, to continue working on the project. I didn't expect the symbiote to animate on its way through the atmosphere of that planet, and I'm beginning to narrow down why that happened."

Avil paced over to the port-side bubble window to watch the stars whip past his ship, on its way to his destination.

"Your work on the host body's metabolic chemistry was the cornerstone of the project - we already knew how to insert live aquileans into artificial host bodies via traditional methods; we needed a way to animate a cloned aquilean in an artificial host. You came close, Bea - really close. I think it was the thing that turned this project around. Combined with the cloning technique I devised, and the work you did with the neurotransmitters, the metabolism, the chemistry... I never had the head for that stuff.

The point is, it worked. You devised the right chemistry to get the replicant up. To open its eyes, turn on its brain, turn on its nervous system - the nerve tendrils, the interfacing with the host's system, muscles, nerves, other vital functions... I think with a higher concentration of the stuff you have circulating in the body, we could shorten the replicant's acquiescence time for the new host from days to hours - maybe, with the right balance, we could shorten that time to mere minutes."

The dolphin's voice quickened as he spoke. The prospect of his work being successful clearly excited him.

"It's all a bit premature, still." He resumed. "I hate chemistry, but there's enough here that I can learn. I'll go through your portion of the work and try to figure out what cocktail of metabolic chemicals and neurotransmitters got the little bastard's brain working. You'll have to check my work over when I get back. That is, if Deessa hasn't already had me court-martialed, stripped of rank and exiled from alliance citizenship.

The dreams I've been having of the replicant's perceptions are getting more vivid. Recently, he fled a full-out hunt with his friend, and they're hiding out in the woods now - making their way to some safe place the little one suggested. It's strange - there are times where I'm a passenger in his head, times when I can influence his actions or thoughts, and times when I seem to be in direct control of his body and mind. Anytime he's in a primal situation, particularly when he's on a steamy romp or fighting for his life, I have more control. That being said, he's learning, getting smarter - the amount of control I feel compelled to impress upon the creature seems to be decreasing a little. Only a little."

As the cockpit readouts displayed his flight path and distance travelled, Avil's thoughts ran to more personal things.

"I miss you. All of you. Bea, that goes without saying. But Shrike and Samael; you're my best friends. I didn't think I would miss either of you when we parted ways, back in the days when we were just meeting and trying to gel as a fighter unit. Now that I'm on what may very well end up being a one-way trip, I have some regrets. I hope I make it through this crusade of mine to make up some of the things I should have said, or should have done.

In my haste, I hadn't really considered what I will do if this doesn't work out. If he dies while I'm on the way, or if I can't figure out what it is that made him work out. If he's just a lucky and random outlier, then what? It would all have been for nothing, and I'd probably not even bother coming back. Even as it is now, I'm sick of the war, sick of the fighting. Sick of Deessa always being on me about something. I've thought about not coming back, as much as it would pain me to walk away; I don't know what my place is in the universe anymore. I hope this trip will help me to figure that out."

He sighed, trying to find some happier note on which to conclude his recording.

"Shrike. Keep your gunnery sharp and your skin soft. There's nothing I'd love more than to melt something salty on your tail and then lick it off, all night. Sam - do that for me. Consider it an order, if you still feel like I have any authority at all. One way or another, I've burned the higher-ups and I may only save my reputation and my rank if I come back with something of value, so if I don't, I may not end up coming back at all. One way or another, you'll know where to find me.

I'm going to send at least one more audio log before I make planetfall. Until then, this is Captain Avil Tursin, signing off."

• * * *

In the days spent travelling through the woods, Skorp hadn't had much to talk about with Neira now that they were free of their their former 'employer'. Neira had elected to do most of the talking, telling Skorp the details of her life's story. How she'd grown up an orphan, lived as a thief for a while before finally getting caught and being sent to the slave market as punishment for her small crimes. Up until she'd been captured, though, she worked part-time as a cook at an establishment that she was hoping her and Skorp could find shelter in. This became their plan; to find the nearby town, pinch some new clothes for Neira, possibly get themselves some proper food and then head out to their destination. Once they'd found the nearby river which ran through the valley, the pair had followed it until it met with a bridge crossing and road. Feeling it was a reasonably safe assumption that Sarane's mercenary knights wouldn't have chased them this far, they stuck to the road and followed it to the town of Nori.

Passers-by, pedestrians, carriages and caravans all turned their heads to get a look at Skorp as they passed by. Some were more discrete than others, though just about everyone needed a second look at the creature; Neira worried that someone might recognize him from the arena and point him out to any authorities that might be looking for them. The possibility was slim, but real nonetheless; the garrison of any town generally had very little concern for the affairs of anyone within the town, much less for anyone outside of it. With the right amount of coin they might be persuaded; Neira hoped that the mistress hadn't made it this far in the search, if she was still looking for her lost 'assets'.

While Skorp ambled his way through the market square of the town, Neira slipped around behind the merchant stands and nabbed some new clothes and a handful of things to eat; she stuffed them in her sheepskin bag and tiptoed her way to the outskirts of town. Skorp drew the attention of everyone, including the merchants; while they weren't minding their stands, Neira could craftily sneak in and grab what she wanted before anyone could notice. Although this arrangement made the hybrid uneasy, he knew it was a necessary thing to do; all he had to do was walk into the town square, act like he was confused, and then make his exit. The merchants would be none the wiser.

Once the deed was done, Skorp made his way to the edge of town, where Neira had agreed to meet him. She sat on a public bench, bag still slung over her shoulder. As he approached, she smiled and rose to her feet. "You were brilliant, Skorp!" She said, a bright smile on her face. "Everyone was looking at you. I could have pilfered half the market and nobody would have noticed."

To that, Skorp grumbled. "It felt like being at the arena. With everyone watching."

"Oh." Neira replied, drooping a little. "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I hadn't thought of that."

"It's alright. Just tell me if we're going to do much more of it, okay?" He pleaded.

"I promise it will be the last time. We'll be there soon enough."

"And where is 'there', exactly?" He asked.

Neira motioned for them to resume their journey. A short walk led them to the main road, which they continued to follow toward another wooded area.

"It's... uhm, well... it's an inn, of sorts." She explained.

"Of sorts?" Skorp echoed, concerned that Neira wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"Yes. I mean, it's a normal inn, in that there's places to sleep in exchange for coin, there's food, there's drink, there's... entertainment..."

Skorp's crest feathers perked high as she lingered on that last word. "What sort of entertainment?" the hybrid pressed, sorely hoping he wasn't going to have to fight again.

Neira blushed a little. "Well... uh. You know those nights you... uhm. Spent with the mistress?"

The pair stopped in their tracks for a moment. Skorp looked pressingly into Neira's eyes, awaiting the rest of the explanation.

"Well..." She continued, "At the place we're going to, people can pay to spend the night with... whomever. Some of the individuals working there hire themselves out to patrons who want to have a more sensual type of evening. Or... uhm... well, you might say many of the employees there are hired for that. Some take on secondary duties, but mostly..."

Skorp raised a hand, gesturing that she didn't need to continue. He understood where she was going, now.

"So I won't have to fight?" He asked.

Neira shook her head, violet whisps of hair flicking back and forth. "Not at all. Violence isn't allowed there. Although, with some of the patrons having a little too much of the drink... it still happens. They get thrown out if it ever goes too far."

Skorp nodded, not only understanding, but also relieved. "Would we have to see any 'patrons' during our evenings?"

The fae shook her head vigorously. "No! Oh, no, no, no. I'd make sure of that. I know the owner, you see - I worked there before, in the kitchen. I know I could probably persuade him to let me have my old job back. And as for you... well, I don't know what you could do, but we'll make sure you have some sort of job to earn you a bit of coin and a place to stay. Maybe on security? If you worked there as a freelance guard of sorts, I'm sure most patrons would be intimidated enough by the sight of you to keep their behaviour appropriate at the inn."

This proposition wasn't really the best thing, but Skorp couldn't come up with a better alternative. Neira knew these lands and had far more street-smarts than he did; he had little choice but to go along with the fae's plan.

"Is there any water? Somewhere I can swim and catch my own food?" He asked.

She nodded again. "There's a big lake behind the mansion. I'm sure you could spend all day swimming and fishing, if you wanted to."

The first bit of appealing news that Skorp heard from this plan, he nodded approvingly. "Let's go, then. How much further?"

"Oh, maybe another day. Not even. A half day. I'm sure if we kept on the road for the rest of the night, and then stopped somewhere to rest, we'd be there before midday tomorrow."

Finally agreed on what they were going to do, Skorp resumed his wobbly canter and Neira followed close. Soon, they hoped, they would have a new lease on life.

• * * *

It didn't take long before night had fallen and the pair of travellers needed to stop and rest for the night. Skorp and Neira made camp beside the main road as it ran through the valley, which separated the town of Nori from the next nearest town. The inn - their destination, laid about halfway in between. After a night of rest, scarfing down what provisions Neira had pilfered from the market, and a panicked chase of some nearby birds - Skorp was ready to find his new home. As Neira led on, the establishment gradually came into view; as did the pristine lake which lingered behind it. The pair approached, Neira got anxious and Skorp started to get excited; this looked like a place he could get used to.

The mansion was notably larger than the manor which was their former residence; a similar architecture was at work. Whomever owned the building would have to be affluent, upper-class and have a bit of an ego. A courtyard was visible from the road, which had a cobbled pathway for carriages to pick up or drop off guests.

With the sun still relatively low in the sky, there was very little traffic at the front of the establishment. A patron and staffer could be seen walking the gardens around the side of the building; apart from the lone guard standing at the door, there was nobody else to be seen.

"Damn." Neira said as she scanned the guard from head to toe - an imposing-looking bear, tall, with dark fur. "I don't recognize him. He must be new."

"Is it a problem?" Skorp asked, concerned.

"I don't think so. Just let me do the talking from here on, okay?"

Skorp nodded compliantly.

As the pair made their way to the front door, the guardsman stood upright and took notice. They walked past the large embossed sign, which read: 'Moonlight and Mystery', with 'A place for thirsty travellers and those seeking adventure' embossed below in smaller letters.

"Welcome to Moonlight." The guard said aloud, dusting his eyes. Clearly, he'd been snoozing on the job.

"Good morning." Neira replied, cheerfully. "Are we open yet?"

"Read and understand." The guard said, clearly not answering the question. Instead, he gestured to a written placard with a set of rules for the conduct of any patrons wishing to enter the establishment.

It was the typical rules for an upscale establishment; no fighting, no rudeness, no weapons, no harassing the staff or defacing any property of the inn, and so forth. After a moment of letting Neira read, and Skorp staring dazedly at the placard whilst wishing he could read, the bear, with a little boorish sneer, turned his attention back to his 'guests'.

"If you are carrying any weapons, we now have an improved weapons closet and attendant available for you to surrender for the duration of your stay."

Clearly, with the guard's senses returning to him after his snooze, he got a better look at Skorp. Nude, clawed, scaled and feathered - he wasn't quite sure what to make of the hybrid.

"Uhm... I feel I should also ask you, what is the purpose of your visit here?" He bellowed.

Neira seized upon the opportunity. "I-, er rather, we - would like to see the manager, Kolnic."

Surprised by the sudden and very specific request, the bear blinked for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, but the manager's a busy sort. Unless you have an appointment." He said with a sneer, and a suspicious eye on Skorp.

"We're here unannounced, yes." Neira explained, "Though if you were to tell him who I am, I'm sure he would see us quite promptly."

"Doubtful." The bear retorted. "You have no appointment, and I'm not even sure about this fellow." He said, pointing at Skorp. "He's not dangerous, is he?"

The temptation crossed Neira's mind to say 'Only to you...', though she restrained her wit and tried her best to be diplomatic.

"No. He's a little eccentric, and actually quite timid. I'd prefer you didn't act like he's just an animal who followed me here."

The guard grumbled. "Nonetheless. I can't let you see the manager. If you want to show yourselves in, you may - the kitchen will be open soon, and serving first meal."

The notion of the kitchen spurred Neira's imagination. After she led Skorp in, she turned to address the guard again.

"Tell me, sir bear - have you tried Neira's spicy terrachi-leaf soup?" She inquired.

Instantly, his expression lit up. "Why, yes! It's famous around here. The kitchen's suffered a lot in the days since its recipe was put to parchment, I'm told. I fancy a bowl of it in the evenings, after I get off my shift."

A smirk played upon Neira's lips. She tried her best not to overplay her hand.

"I'm glad you like it." She said with a soft smile. "I'm Neira."

The guard's expression turned to one of incredulity. He quirked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"A little thing like you?" He asked rhetorically. "There's no way. Tell me the recipe, then."

Neira rolled her eyes. "A half-pot of water, a heaping spoon of dried market stock, a fistful of terrachi leaves, a generous pinch of field spice. Let it simmer all morning. Before it's ready to serve, add a few drips of honey, and the secret ingredient - a half-bottle of spiced southern rum."

The bear was completely befuddled. Not only was that the exact recipe from the kitchen, but she knew that the part about the rum which wasn't written down - it ensured that if anyone ever thought to steal the recipe, their soup would forever be doomed to come out poorly, because the rum would be left out.

Confident that this exchange cemented her credentials as 'the Neira', the fae folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the bear. "So, can we see the manager?"

"Why did you ever leave?" The bear asked, star-struck that he was speaking with the inventor of his favourite soup.

"I had to take care of something urgent. Something that took me away from here for longer than I'd have liked." Neira explained, completely glossing over her career as a thief, sale to the slave market and purchase by Sarane. "Needless to say, I've come back, hopefully to get the kitchen running smoothly again."

"Ah, well, good!" The bear bellowed.

"So... take us to Kolnic?" She pressed. The dim-witted guard was hardly the best hire, nor the most clever guard she'd run across.

"I'll see if he's busy. Wait here."

As the bear walked off toward a staff-only door, Skorp had taken to a frog-like squatting posture. He'd felt awkward during the entire exchange between Neira and the guard; afterward, he stood upright and waited patiently in the lobby with the fae.

A solid half-hour had passed by the time anyone got back to the pair. A small, well-dressed feline lady with black hair and grey fur approached them. She wore a snug, curve-hugging dress and had a pleasant smile on her lips.

"Would you be Neira?" The girl asked softly, leaning forward and leering a little bit at Skorp.

"Yes, I am. This is my friend, Skorp. We're here to see Kolnic."

"Yes, indeed." The feline replied. "My name is Saph. I can show you to his office; please, follow me."

Obviously another new staff member since Neira had left; much better mannered than the brutish bear doorman. Down a long hallway and across a dining room, past the main bar, and down a flight of stairs. Skorp did his best to stay sure of foot; his steps wobbled slightly, so he stayed at the back of the line.

"Just in here." Saph said as they approached the door, a placard displayed prominently beside it with the word 'Manager' embossed upon it in fancy letters. "Have a pleasant day."

The cat took her leave of the pair and walked off. Timidly, Neira pushed the door open and stepped in, motioning for Skorp to duck down and try not to let his head hit the top of the door frame.

At the back of the room, lined with bookshelves and trinkets, lay a desk with a stressed-looking panther behind it. Fur as black as ink, yellow eyes set behind round spectacles, and a dash of red dye accenting the tips of his ears. He wore a halfway-drawn up garb, a medium brown detailed with gold trim. A flower was pinned to his shoulder.

Kolnic appeared to be muttering to himself, a clawed hand running through his short black hair, which started to get dishevelled after being pulled at repeatedly. Ledgers, bills, and other documents crowded the surface of his desk. He looked up from the papers for a moment, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the visitors entering his office.

"Neira!" He said, a smile finding its way to his face. "My gods - it is you. I hardly believed Rufus when he told me you were here."

He looked at Skorp. "And, who is this?"

Pleasantly surprised that Kolnic would be so happy to see her, she stepped forward and smiled. Skorp humbly followed, tail feathers getting wrapped around the luxurious furniture that lined the room.

"Hello, Kol. This is Skorp, a travelling companion and friend of mine."

"I see." The panther replied. "Well? Come, sit."

"It's been a long time. How are things?" She asked, hands together at her front and taking up the seat in front of the desk.

In lieu of the commonplace reply, Kolnic deferred to blunt honesty.

"I'm not going to lie." He began. "Things could be better."

"Oh? How so?" Neira asked, canting her head to the side. She hoped glean an angle to use as leverage, if the panther had fallen on harder times.

"Going over ledgers now, and the results aren't good. We've been losing some business to that new brothel that opened in the next town over, and it shows in the guest registry. Not only that, but I've had staff come and go from the kitchen, lost a couple of good gentlemen and courtesans to unsavoury business... things aren't terrible, but they've certainly been better."

The exasperated panther ran his hands through his hair again.

"Sounds like you could do with some experienced staffers who know the run of this place." Neira observed.

Sensing a pitch, Kolnic leaned back in his chair and rested his elbows on the armrests. "Is that why you're here, then? After you left so suddenly last time, I'm a bit apprehensive about taking you on again."

Meekly, Neira lowered her head. "I'd been caught stealing once or twice. My misdeeds caught up to me while I was working in the kitchen here, some bounty hunter matched my face to a wanted poster from a long time ago... I ended up arrested and turned in to the slave market."

Her compressed explanation glossed over much of the hardship she'd gone through in the time since she'd been taken away.

"I'd heard as much. At least, about the thievery. I'm sorry to hear that you've gone through a hard time, though... I was disappointed to find out you'd had such a checkered history."

The panther steepled his fingers. Neira nodded solemnly.

"Working here was my first chance to lead an honest life. I'm just an unfortunate fae whose past caught up with her." She lamented.

"So." The panther said, pensively. "This brings us to now."

"Yes. By the sounds of it, I'd presume that you need some kitchen staff."

"And some entertainers, too." Kolnic added.

"Well, one thing at a time." Neira began. "I was hoping to start fresh. Again. If your kitchen staff lack the savvy to turn out good food, I think I could take on the management of the kitchen. You remember how popular some of my dishes were - and the soup recipe I penned out is still popular now, according to your doorman."

The panther canted his head back and pondered the notion. It certainly had some appeal; his kitchen needed a shot in the arm, and Neira's work always went over well with hungry patrons.

Rubbing his chin for a moment or two, he looked over at Skorp, then back at Neira.

"I don't know if I could take you on at a manager's pay." Kolnic explained. "As much as I would love to, right now - profits are down. We're dangerously close to breaking even, on these ledgers."

Neira didn't need long to think of a way to press the issue.

"I don't need a manager's pay - I'd happily work for my old wage, if you'd also put me up in the workers' quarters. I need a place to live, anyway." She explained.

Instantly, Kolnic quirked a brow. "Oh? You wouldn't be in any sort of trouble again, would you, Neira?"

She flushed a little. Lying wasn't one of her strengths, and with a prospective employer in the palm of her hand, she felt compelled to be honest.

"Uhm... well... possibly." She began, meekly.

The panther sat back again, awaiting the explanation.

"It's... sort of the reason he's with me." She motioned to Skorp.

"Go on." Kolnic insisted. "I've been waiting to hear what his story is. You're quite a unique-looking specimen, my friend. If a bit... odd. What of him? Is he intending to stay, as well?"

In keeping with Neira's instructions, Skorp only offered a curt nod in response. He stayed mum.

"Where to even begin with him..." Neira pondered aloud. "He turned up at the manor one day, when I was working for lady Sarane. It's where I ended up after I was sold off from the slave market. I'm not sure how she found him, but... not too long after he came to live with us, he was forced to train and then to fight in the arena bouts at the coliseum."

Upon hearing this, Kolnic's expression turned to one of surprise. "Interesting. I've heard many patrons talking about a monster at the coliseum - clearing bout after bout. Knights, mercenaries, freelancers. Just about everyone bets money on the noble knights, and loses. An undefeated contender for grand champion, despite being cast as the villain of every fight - a savage. A bloodthirsty monster." He said, while looking Skorp over from head to toe. A touch of concern for his own safety crept into his consciousness.

Skorp, meanwhile, remained silent. His crest feathers drooped a little - far from the sort of praise he'd want to hear.

Neira shook her head. "He is a far gentler sort than hearsay would suggest. He has accompanied me all the way here, and taken very good care of me since we left the manor. He has a name - did you know that? We call him 'Skorp'. Not 'lake monster', or 'brute', or 'ugly one'."

"Skorp?" Kolnic echoed. "That's an unusual name."

The fae shrugged. "It's a noise he makes. We figured it was appropriate, and it just sort of... stuck with him."

"I see." The panther replied. "And why did you leave, then? Working in the upscale homestead of Lady Sarane must have been a comfortable work arrangement."

"Because his life was in danger." Neira explained. "Skorp was being pitted against worsening odds in each fight. He is resilient, but not immortal - we fled together. He doesn't want a life of conflict, and I don't want a life of servitude."

Kolnic continued to nod as the fae explained.

"It... may also be..." She continued, "...in part, because lady Sarane found out about my snooping in on her evenings with Skorp, along with another staffer. The mistress worked up a rage some nights ago, and..."

The more of the story Kolnic heard, the more he wanted to hear, and the more incredible it sounded. He leaned forward on his desk and listened in earnest. "Evenings with Skorp? This, I must hear." The panther said, in keen interest.

"Oh, yes." Neira continued. "You see, perhaps the lady merely has a taste for the exotic, or maybe it's because her 'champion' earned her such high winnings from the arena, but... either way, she'd have him cleaned and summoned to her chambers, night after night."

"Did she really fancy him? Was there a blossoming romance between them?" Kolnic inquired.

"Nothing more than an animalistic attraction, I think." The fae observed. "Certainly, mistress was enthusiastic about seeing him on most nights, but most often, he-"

"If you'll permit me, Sir." Skorp interrupted, his crackly, raspy voice cutting the conversation dead. "I can speak for myself."

Both Neira and Kolnic were taken aback by the sudden interjection from the hybrid. Yet another surprise for the panther about the beast; he wasn't a mere animal. He had intellect, and he could speak. For her part, Neira was shocked that Skorp felt compelled to speak at this point; she'd asked him to leave the talking to her, only because the hybrid might never know what to say.

Calmly, Skorp lowered himself to his frog-squat posture. Eschewing a chair or other seating in the room, he was content to make himself a little less imposing by being lower to the ground.

"Go ahead, friend." Kolnic said, inviting the hybrid to speak.

"I am here because Neira led us here - out of the water, I don't know what to do with myself."

Kolnic quirked a brow. "Give yourself more credit than that, lad. If you're up to besting royal knights in the arena, and then giving Lady Sarane a thrill all night long, and all in the same day - certainly, I'd have a use for someone like you."

Skorp's crest feathers perked ever so slighty. "I don't like fighting, and I don't like a lot of attention. People stare, and it makes me nervous."

"Only because they don't know what you are, mister Skorp. If they had a chance to get a bit closer-"

"It's just Skorp." The hybrid interrupted, taking issue with the 'mister' title.

"Sorry, lad. Just trying to be polite. You could do with a lesson in polite banter yourself, you know - It's rude to interrupt."

Neira blushed a little and looked away, embarrassed by Skorp's sudden verbosity. She wanted to stop him from speaking, but wouldn't know what to say in his place.

"I haven't exactly had lessons. Nobody's ever talked to me besides Neira." Skorp conceded.

"Fair enough." Kolnic replied. "So, if Neira's watched you with madame Sarane, I can assume that the two of you haven't...?"

Neira flushed again. She may have had some interest in the hybrid, but never acted on it if she did.

"No." Skorp answered, filling in the brief silence. "Neira has protected me, and I have protected her. We are friends, but we aren't that sort of friends."

Kolnic smirked a little. "And how would you feel, then, about having such friends?"

Taking a moment to consider it, Skorp's crest feathers perked a bit. He weighed up the notion; certainly, it was preferable to fighting another gladiatorial match - and he did have some credible experience to offer, in the 'entertainment' department.

The hybrid offered up some terms. "As long as I don't have to hurt anyone, and I'm not watched by a crowd of people. I want to be able to live and feed in the lake you have outside, and I want to be somewhere where I know Neira is reachable."

Nodding affirmatively, Kolnic weighed up Skorp's proposition. "You'd like to live in the lake? As long as you can take care of the carp problem we have in there; those troublesome fishes stink up our beach and drive tourists away during the hotter seasons."

Neira looked over at Skorp and couldn't quite believe what he was saying. Surprised that he was willing to work as a gentleman, and relieved that he still wanted to have her close by.

"Are you sure about this?" The fae asked, in her friend's direction. "You can live out in the wilds. I wouldn't want you doing anything you're not comfortable with."

"Oh, hush, Neira." Kolnic said, half-sarcastic, half-serious. As the panther negotiated with the hybrid, he started to visualize a great asset possibly coming his way.

"You certainly have an exotic sort of... quality to you, Skorp." The panther resumed. "I must admit, you have a brawny build that I find most intriguing, and although I see you're nude, I don't see... your... 'assets'."

"I can assure you that I am as male as you are, sir." Skorp countered, confidence rising in his tone.

"Fascinating." Kolnic said, his interest growing - both as a manager, and as a panther whose tastes occasionally ran to other males. "I can't wait to find out your secret. Certainly, if you were bedding with Lady Sarane for as long as you did, there must be some wonderful surprise you're keeping hidden down there." His eyes ran briefly down to Skorp's crotch, before returning to make eye contact again.

"Her appetite and her desire were almost without limit." Skorp offered.

"And yet, you kept up with her?" The panther inquired.

The hybrid nodded. "Most nights."

Feeling as though his fortunes may be turning around, Kolnic clapped his hands together loudly and rubbed them. "We all appear to have problems that we can help each other to sort out. Neira needs a place to live and a new job; Skorp wants a career change, and I need a functioning kitchen and an edge on the new brothel that seeks to put me out of business."

Neira's ears perked in concern. "What do you have planned for him, Kolnic? I don't want you to just... slap a ribbon on him and throw him to the ladies. Or males, for that matter. I want him to be happy here."

"As do I, Neira." The panther countered. "Please, Neira - I'd have thought you knew that I'm not a profit-minded bureaucrat with no feeling for his staffers."

Kolnic pushed himself up from his chair and stepped over to Skorp's side. He got a closer look at the hybrid, a gentle hand coming out to explore the texture of his scales, skin or plumage.

"I see you becoming the best-kept secret of Moonlight and Mystery." The panther began, walking slowly as he continued his survey of the beast. "After we've shown you around, get you settled in and maybe start having you practice your banter with some of the other staff - you need a lesson in manners, quite frankly, but you seem to be clever enough that we can refine you with a little practice. And as for your... physical talents, I think we might try you out on one or two of my courtesans or gentlemen before we have you seeing any patrons."

Skorp shrugged. If it meant he could leave behind the violence of the arena, he was willing to do just about anything.

"I accept." The hybrid said in response. "When do we start?"

"Soon." Kolnic affirmed. "I must ask, what is your preference when it comes to partners in intimacy? Do you prefer females? Any inclination for males, at all? And do you like the harsh, brutish sort of play? Or, do you prefer a softer... gentler style?"

Again, Skorp shrugged. "I don't know if I have a preference. I change, depending on the mood, and whatever the other is looking for."

"So you have a range, then. Wonderful." Kolnic said, smirking. "Neira, you've confessed to watching him a few times - can you corroborate any of what he's saying?"

A little embarrassed that she's been asked to be a reference for this sort of thing, the fae nodded and looked off to the side, trying to hide her blush.

"Consider yourselves hired." Kolnic said cheerfully, each of his hands landing on Skorp and Neira's shoulders, giving them a heartfelt pat or two.

The three looked at each other. This appeared to be a satisfactory arrangement.

"No fights." Skorp insisted. "And no... crowds."

"I can assure you." The panther replied. "The things you'd do here would be neither harmful, nor public. We take pride in our work here, and discretion is a vital part of it. I think, with a little instruction in the social graces... and possibly a demonstration of your talents, Skorp - we can find a way to fit you in. 'The exotic lake hybrid' - I can see it now. Word of mouth spreads quickly about new talent here. We'll keep your employment concealed for now, and we won't advertise your availability - I think the element of mystery could generate quite a buzz for us."

Neira snickered. The metaphor about 'fitting in' could be taken a few different ways. Acknowledging the humour in that, Kolnic offered a hearty chuckle.

The feline piled his papers somewhat neatly on his desk and left affairs of finance and administration for a later time. "I'll have Saph make some arrangements for your new living quarters, Neira. And I'll see what she can set up for you, Skorp. In the meantime, I hate to press you into service right away, Neira - but I could use you in the kitchen as soon as you're able."

"I know the way." She stated, not wasting any time in finding her new duties.

"Perfect." Kolnic said with a smile. "Now then, Skorp - let me offer you a personal tour of my establishment. I'd love to hear more about you, as well."

"Lead on." Skorp said, rising up to a walking posture. "I want to see my new home."

• * * *

It had taken Avil's shuttle much longer than anticipated for his arrival at the target planet. Engine issues, powerplant issues and a navigational error that had thrown him off-course; he had been taking time away from the helm and letting his autopilot do the flying, while he went over laboratory reports, raw data and experimental write-ups about his project.

His nights were filled with vivid dreams; his creation had been on quite an adventure, washing up at some establishment geared toward erotic leisure and casual intimacy, among other things. The 'phin would look forward to sleeping every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of his replicant's adventures; often taking charge whenever its 'intimate talents' were called upon.

With the planet finally in view, Avil was taken back to the moment that had started this entire affair; his project being shut down. Beagle meeting him in the hangar and trying to cheer him up. Venting the experiment into space, seducing Deessa to get his fighter command position, meeting his new crewmates and waking up in panicked shivers, night after night, having experienced some or all of his 'brother's' perceptions from the sleep he'd just had. The prospect of ending this series of unfortunate events was all that had been on his mind for months; now that the possibility was at hand, he realized that he'd never thought of what might happen afterward. What the next step would be, after finding his work and bringing it back home, to share with his fellow scientists and eventually his species. To reproduce without a catastrophic penalty to one's own health and lifespan.

The dolphin gazed out from his cockpit window and observed the planet from orbit. Hoping this was all going to go smoothly, he started planning out his approach to tracking and finding his creature.

"Survey scans complete." A digitized voice announced from the shuttle's sensor console. "Positive matches found."

Upon hearing the successful scan, he stepped swiftly over to the console and had a look at the results.

A spherical representation of the planet below was shown, with a zoomed-in section on a smaller, southern continent. Small red dots were flashing in a highlighted area.

"Identify." Avil commanded.

"Ninety-six percent likelihood of duratanium alloy. No match to any other metals or minerals found on this planet." The computer responded.

Knowing that duratanium was a major component of the suspension tubes that he'd used to grow his experiments, this narrowed his search considerably. He was happy with the result, but the area would still take a long time to search on foot.

"Aquilean lifesigns?" He asked, hoping for some good news again.

"Unknown." The computer replied. "Sensor resolution insufficient to differentiate between indigenous lifeforms and Aquilean."

"Damn." The dolphin said aloud. "How many duratanium sources found?"

"Six."

"Display and enhance." He commanded.

In a random dispersal, six red dots were displayed. The area they were spread across was a few hundred kilometers; it would take a substantial survey team to search the entire area on foot, let alone a single officer.

As Avil paused to determine his next approach, he tapped a few commands into the console; setting the autopilot on a course for orbit over the impact sites of his lab debris, he racked his brain for some way to narrow his search even further.

His first recollection stretched back quite some time, but he remembered waking up in a panic after having a dream that he'd been submerged in a fast-flowing river and just barely managed to climb his way out.

"Computer. Highlight river and stream pathways in the displayed area." He spoke.

After some processing, the computer highlighted in blue a couple of river tracts that ran through his search area. Only one of the duratanium sources was very close to a river; he breathed a little relief. Although his monster could have gone anywhere from there, it made sense for him to follow the flow of the water and let it take him - hopefully - to somewhere that he might remember clearly from his dreams, and track his monster to its current residence.

Nearly an hour went by once his shuttle had found its way to orbiting the continent Avil would search. He took manual control of the shuttle and started on a manual descent into the atmosphere of the planet.

The shuttle rattled and rumbled as it crossed through layers of atmosphere; a little turbulence was experienced on his way down, but once he'd cleared through it, he set a cruising altitude above the clouds and got up from his seat.

Slipping into a combat hardsuit, the dolphin did a quick accounting of his supplies; an energy weapon for hunting, a small holograph projector to camouflage himself at night, and a datapad with an extended communication relay, so he could reach his shuttle and call it down once he'd found his monster.

"Computer. Enter instructions for AI-controlled flight." The dolphin spoke aloud.

A small chime was heard, confirming that the computer was ready to receive instructions.

"In twenty minutes, exit atmosphere and land on the nearby moon. Once landed, reduce all power to minimal; shut down life support and all other non-essential systems. Sensors are to remain in passive operation; maintain a scan radius for proximity detection of incoming ships, and transmit any alerts to my communicator only. Otherwise, send one communication every twelve - no, ten hours, of ship systems status. Before entering minimal power state, transmit final log entry to the ANS Lev'sratha, protected by encoding Avil-six."

Knowing this would confirm his shuttle's status while he was down on the planet, he wanted to make sure it would stay in good operating condition. "In case of catastrophic power or systems failure, prepare a distress beacon for launch and transmit emergency signal to the Alliance fleet."

Another chime sounded as the computer confirmed the order. Stepping toward the loading ramp of the shuttle, Avil braced himself on a bulkhead handle and pressed the control to open the shuttle's loading doors.

A rush of air whipped loudly through the shuttle as the doors creaked open. The quiet rattling of the shuttle was replaced by a deafening howl from the wind whipping by; the shuttle maintained its flight, cruising among the clouds.

Watching for breaks in the clouds, Avil stared down at the planet, taking in a deep breath and making sure he had enough impact gel stored for his eventual landing. It was going to be rough.

Reciting the hunters' prayer in his head, he took a step toward the open doors.

<i>Lords of the hunt, hear my prayer.

If he should flee, grant me speed.

If he should hide, grant me cunning.

If he should alert, grant me stealth.

If he should fight, grant me strength.

If despite my efforts, I cannot save him...</i>

Swiftly, he dashed toward the opening, arms outstretched. He began his freefall from the shuttle, wind whistling loudly. The search had begun.

<i>...Then may Deessa and everyone grant me forgiveness, because I'm not going back if he dies.</i>

To be continued.