The First Penitatas - Regicide
The hospital was in panic mode. Every surgeon, virologist, anesthetist and rejuvenation engineer was summoned to their station as facilities were swept clear by House Guards and Enforcers alike. The Lord Vaskal was raced through the hospital on a stretcher with four armed men at its corners and as many medical staff as could fit in between steering him, shouting out vital information on his rapidly deteriorating condition to each other as they went. Each specialist who joined the entourage was rapidly brought up to speed, and each of them invariably came to the same conclusion: their patient could not be saved by conventional medicine.
A rejuvenation chamber was found ready for use and cleared. The preset was perfect, set for age ten with no forced-correction to cause sex reassignment or changes to base genetic code. By the time the Lord was placed into the translucent cylinder and locked under the emitter array the flesh on his arms had become black with necrosis, and ugly, festering buboes had spread across his chest and face. There was talk of sedation as the frail and fading nobleman was prepared, but time was deemed of the essence. Besides, it was argued by one expert, they had no idea what pumping drugs into his system would do at this point.
A low humming began within the machine. Eight large cylinders were arrayed in a semi-circle at the top of the device, above the patient's head. Each cracked open in sequence with a hiss of heated air, emitting a low, greenish light onto the Lord Governor as the cylinder locked and rotated upright. The mechanical sounds became louder and more urgent, and the light spread to fill the entire machine. All assembled held their breath and waited as the rejuvenation process began... or should have begun. The Lord Vaskal's eyes snapped open, his jaws parting in a breathless scream as his flesh began to boil. Thick, pink steam filled the cylinder, clouding the inside as brief, anguished howls gave way to terrible, fleshy sounds no living thing should make. All anyone could do was watch and wait as the machine was powered down and cycled back open, revealing a blackened ooze that seeped slowly to the ground.
Shaking with horror at the unholy sight before him, Wokun let a low whine of pain escape his lips. In a strained whisper he said, "this is not how my father died. Any man who breathes a word of this will die by my hand! Now... Now find out what caused this, and make damn sure the Dawn King doesn't suffer the same fate! I... I am needed elsewhere." The young man turned away sharply, marching from the scene so rapidly his bodyguard struggled to keep pace. The Lord-apparent angrily glared into each room he passed until he found one that was empty, pushed the door open and slammed it in his guard's face. Finally alone, he allowed himself to crumple against the wall and howl out his grief, sobbing openly away from prying eyes. Then, after a minute of pain he wiped his muzzle, steadied his breathing, and went to face his duty.

Lord Vaskal's hubris had set Vices ablaze. The live broadcast had been cut out abruptly, switching to spinners who desperately wove lies to try and keep the peace, but enough had been seen; the Lord Governor collapsing, and the look of horror on the Dawn King's muzzle as he stared at Sam. Two and two had been put together - a Penitatas had been at the centre of an assassination attempt, and all those who hated the system took to the streets to rage against it.
"This is madness!" Eskal growled to himself as he pushed onward to the Sinking Light. Enough of the crowds were still ignorant that they were able to make decent headway, but close to their destination drunks and rowdy youths gave way to vicious, violent mobs. Lines were being drawn, grudges being settled, blood being spilt. Eskal led the way with Hafn and Ros close behind, and Kayla bringing up the rear. It was hoped that keeping the boys between them might keep them safe. He steered them through an alley onto a calmer side street and paused to get his bearings. "I think we need the next road over. Once these two are home safe we need to get to work. Any chance you can crack Brunnel's hardware with what you have?"
Kayla shook her head, "Not a chance, not with what's in our room. He's going to be on high alert, and that's going to take more than some clever programs; most of what I brought with us relies on deception. I need raw power for any kind of brute force assault."
"Well 'brute force' is waiting in orbit, we just need to get a link between the ship and Brunnel's lab. Gods, I wish the dome wasn't here!" he spat to the metal sky above. "I would dearly love to drop a squad of marines on the bastard right now!"
They reached the Sinking Light to find its frontage barred and shuttered. A street stage had been set up opposite, with a public broadcast screen erected for public use, which now held the attention of a small, furious crowd that bombarded it with projectiles. Hafn tugged on Eskal's trouser leg and urged him round into the back alley, trying their best not to draw the focus of the mob. Once at the door, the boy banged upon it and called out for Ivaka while Eskal stood watch, arms resting close to his concealed weapons as he surveyed the closest crowd. He saw a lot of weapons, and not all of them improvised.
The door cracked open a fraction, and from inside came a joyful cry. "Boys! You're alive!" Ivaka gasped, followed by the scrape of an improvised barricade to allow the door to open fully. The Penitatas rushed in, with Kayla and Eskal close behind. "I saw the Broadcast! Is it true, did a Penny really kill the Lord Governor?"
"That remains to be seen," Eskal answered. It took all his focus to hide the lie from his tone and features. "We're going to try and put this right, so for now just stay here and keep the doors and windows locked."
"I know, this isn't our first riot," Ivaka replied, trying to appear brave. "They don't stay long in this part of Vices; they usually run north where there's more room to hit each other. Were you there, lord? Did you see it happen?"
"Yes, and we're working to deal with those responsible. Excuse us," Eskal said as he headed upstairs, leaving the boys to reunite with the other frightened refugees inside the dining area. A lone Enforcer stood watching the front door, and Eskal knew from the man's timid posture he'd bolt rather than stand against the rioters. Their room appeared untouched as they entered, but Eskal made a point of sweeping it thoroughly before allowing Kayla to get to work.
"Alright, I have contact with the ship," Kayla said as her systems were brought to ready status. Eskal noted the subtle change in her voice when she was sat at a terminal, almost as though she became a different person. "There's a lot of communications chatter, as you might expect, but nothing tied to Brunnel yet. Enforcers have locked the City down, nothing in or out, but it's possible Brunnel has already bolted. No, wait, Dawson's convinced he's still at his lab." The Aspatrian's ear gave a puzzled little flick as she turned away from her station. "Eskal, I don't think he did this."
"Of course he did!" Eskal snapped back, abandoning any pretense of calm now that he didn't have an audience. "If he's standing ground it's because he knows he has time to wait! He'll have an exit strategy all lined up and ready to go long before the locals kicks his door down, that's why we need to move on him now!"
Kayla briefly bared her fangs at the Kyyreni, but she allowed the anger to pass before speaking to him again, "I get it, Eskal. The Dawn King is family to you, right? That makes this personal, and when your family's hurt you want to act fast, but I don't see how Brunnel gains anything from this. We should at least consider the possibility that this was just the worst timing imaginable."
Eskal turned away, a brief look of shame shadowing his muzzle. "Fine, I will distance myself from this and look at the situation rationally. Now, kindly find out what has happened to the Lord Governor and Dawn King while I change into something more practical."
Despite the heightened alert status, it wasn't all that difficult to find what Eskal wanted. Kayla's keen hacker skills helped her sniff out the internal security feed, and the glaring hole in the feeds where information had been hastily deleted. "Something to hide," she muttered to herself as she worked, firing off extraction protocols and reconstructive algorithms. It was surprising how careless people could be, acting as though deleting a string of data-addresses was sufficient to remove information from existence. After several minutes work she had the missing files, and what they revealed caused her blood to run cold. Eskal was drawn in by the quiet gasp of horror she made, and without a word he replayed the file to study it in detail. The Kyyreni became eerily still, seemingly frozen in a moment of calm indifference by what he saw.
At last, Eskal whispered, "I think we can stop pretending Brunnel is innocent in all this."
Kayla hastily closed the files, wishing she could erase the images from her mind. "How is that possible? I thought rejuvenation cured anything!"
"There are ways. 'Chrono-nites', they're called; nanomachines powered by chronostatic radiation, designed to help fix fractures in star drive systems. They can be weaponised, if you're inventive enough, but any halfway competent security team would have thought to check for something like that. Either we're dealing with people who are staggeringly inept, or Brunnel has found a way to engineer something that can feed of a rejuvenation cycle and bypass all conventional nanite-detection."
A low, angered growl in Kayla's throat as the words sunk in. "The Admiral said he was developing a genocidal weapon. This... this would be genocide! It would end Rejuvenation once and for all! We have to stop him! I'll find a way!"
"Wait, listen!" Eskal cut in sharply, his ears pricked up and alert. Kayla paused and listened, becoming aware of the change in the sounds of the mob. Eskal was already bolting as he shouted, "they're trying to break in!"
The pair flew down the stairs and into the main room, and sure enough they were greeted by the pounding of fists on windows and the rattling of the protective shutters over the door. Found outside a voice cried, "we know you've got them in there! Hand them over! Hand over the filth or we'll burn this place down!" At the roared threat, the two Penitatas clung to Ivaka, weeping silently as she tried and failed to comfort them. All eyes turned to Eskal, the wordless pleading written on every face. He was nobility, and nobility were supposed to protect them.
"There's no way this doesn't end in blood," Eskal growled before composing himself, donning the mental armour he required to be the kind of warrior-leader they expected him to be. "This is not a riot born of emotion; this is calculated. Those men and women out there wear no uniform and fly no flag, but they are an army. They must be faced as such. The only way out of this is to find who leads them and bring them to heel, but I do not believe we can do that, not today. All I can offer is a brief respite; to break their fighting spirit long enough that Enforcers or militia might bring order. I have but one request; if I fail, get Kayla away from here."
"I'm not leaving you," Kayla snapped. "We're in this together!"
Eskal smiled a warm, fatherly smile. She could see in his eyes it was an act, a facade of compassionate courage for the sake of the audience, who saw only the benevolent wise man they wished to see. "Out there is my world, Kayla. You are a warrior of information, of the digital world. I am born of blood and iron, and there will be need of both today. Get away from here and deal with Brunnel. The Enforcer's Guild might be able to help you."
"What does she need, Lord?" Ivaka asked, stepping forward with head held high. "If we can help at all, we will. Right, everyone?" she turned to the timid gathering, whose response was far from rousing.
The Aspatrian answered, "I need advanced computer systems, ideally ones focused on cyber security and electronic warfare."
Ivaka's eyes lit up, "Javik! He works with computers, and the last time he was here the man was rambling about some kind of security work! He's a strange thing, but I'm sure he can help you. I'll get you the address."
Eskal grinned, "Fate is with us, my friend. I have a plan to get you away, and the boys too, but it will be dangerous. I cannot risk you all, so most of you will have to stay here. Trust in me, and we will all come through this together." He looked to the assembled faces and laid out his plan, seeing the growing doubt in each of them. Yet with a calm tone and a steady eye, he brought them round one by one. "All is ready. Let's begin."
The aura of terror was palpable as Eskal strode to the front door. Through the view-slit of the shutters he could see the likely ringleader, alternating between screaming threats at the barred portal and rallying the mob. Eskal drew himself straight, took a deep breath and cried out in a commanding tone, "You will back away from this door! I'm coming out! Back away if you want the Penitatas so badly! Ivaka, the door?" Slowly, painfully, the protections were removed and the door opened wide. The mob beyond was like flood water against a failing wall, waiting for the tiny slip that would unleash the surge. Dressed in comfortable clothing, but with his weapons still concealed, Eskal strode forth to challenge the horde. "Who speaks for you? Step forward, leader of the vagabonds!"
The leader turned out to be a Daysider, and Eskal's mask almost slipped as he caught sight of the marks upon the man's fur. He was a Sun worshipper, a dread marauder the likes of which Eskal had long hoped never to encounter again. "We want the Penitatas!" he spat, stepping forward to square off against Eskal. The Daysider was smaller and leaner, but Eskal knew from experience the man was a killer. His fire-orange fur bore the faint scent of dried blood, and from his brown leathers hung tell-tale trinkets made of bone or tufts of fur. Aspatrian fur, Eskal guessed from the colours and texture. The man had traveled almost as much as he had.
With slow, careful movements, Eskal gestured to the platform sporting the shattered screen. "Let's use the platform. Clear a path for me, and I will bring the boys. Some things should be done in plain sight."
The Daysider beckoned a pair of colleagues, and together the three of them forced the mob to part with a series of sharp threats and gestures with their weapons. Eskal turned to Kayla, Ivaka and the boys, noting the fear in his fellow Kyyreni and the sharp, focused look on Kayla's face, the same mask she wore as a hacker. To the boys he said, "Follow close behind me, look straight forward at all times. When it begins, follow your mistress and cling tight to her. Move with haste, or the mob will end you."
The long walk through the corridor was a chilling affair. The gathered Kyyreni on either side were eerily quiet, with the shouts and chants coming from those who couldn't see what was happening at the front. The tension made her fur bristle, but worse was the look in the eyes of those she dared to look at. Hunger and fear dueled in their gaze; hunger to appease, and fear of what befell those who didn't. That the Sun Cult had ordered them into line so easily sent a chill down her spine.
On the stage, the Daysiders waited. A low whimper of fear escaped the boys as they saw a pair of long cables flung over the screen, tied in nooses at one end. Eskal ignored their quiet pleas and beckoned his entourage to stand under the screen, under the nooses. He stepped back and circled, putting the Daysiders between himself and his companions, with the mob at his tail. "Well now, you've prepared quite the spectacle," he noted with an eerily pleasant tone. "What happens now?"
The lead Daysider gave a cruel chuckle as he tested the edge of his knife with a thumb. It came away with a swelling drop of blood. "Now, my friend, we bring justice to the traitors, and all those who harbour them."
Eskal gave a slow nod of understanding, allowing his body to become loose as he made subtle adjustments to his posture. "You have been to Aspatria, haven't you? No-doubt you are part of the group the Terrans called the 'Varangians'; the mercenary elite of the rich and powerful. You have stayed in the employ of Renacross, my friend."
The Daysider's muzzle wrinkled in confusion, "how do you know that name?"
The noble gave a slow blink and willed his heart to steady. His hands moved to their proper places, and his tail shifted to ready his balance for what was to come. "Because I was one of you."
In a single, flowing motion, Eskal's sword flew from its sheath and rode across the Daysider's chest, splitting clothing and flesh alike before biting into his throat and tearing open arteries. The man's death-scream was drowned in blood as Eskal hooked round and flung the body sideways, drawing his pistol in the same motion to shoot the second Sun-Cultist square in the muzzle. The sharp crack of the energy weapon was lost in the echoing crack as the cultist's upper jaw disintegrated, hurling him off his feet and dumping the corpse onto the heads of the onlooking crowd. By the time he had fallen, Eskal's second shot had disabled the last of the trio, turning the third man's gut into an ugly, blackened wound of burnt flesh and fur. With the quick press of a concealed button, Eskal's knife extended to short sword length and began to hiss and steam as the energy field ignited and boiled the blood from its edge. He plunged the smoking weapon into the heart of the crippled Daysider, taking a moment to watch the life leave his eyes before pulling the weapon free. He turned sharply to his companions, ignoring the varied looks of surprise and horror on their features, and strode towards them with terrible purpose. "Go!" he bellowed as his pistol was aimed once more. "Run for your lives!"
They realised too late the words were not meant for them, but the mob. Eskal pushed between the boys and fired down into the crowd. The first shot was perfectly placed into the chest of a Daysider woman, her arms locked tightly around the grip of a two-handed hammer borrowed or stolen from a construction yard. As she fell the crowd, some four to five bodies deep, began to break. Some, but not all; a scrawny Dawnsider behind the falling woman arched his back to throw a bottle, and Eskal shot it out of his hand. The resulting wash of liquid fire sent the thrower and two other unfortunates sprawling, thrashing at their limbs and faces as their clothes and fur caught alight. "Now, hurry!" Eskal hissed to his companions. The four didn't look back, nor need telling twice; with Hafn carried by Ivaka, and Ros in Kayla's arms, they fled from the bloody carnage on the stage and out into the streets. Clutched and carried as they were, Hafn and Ros were able to watch as the mob vaulted up onto the stage behind Eskal, brandishing knives, clubs and other improvised weapons. The noble span to meet them, his heat-sword flashing as it moved. Kyyreni men and women of all breeds toppled backwards, clutching at punctures, slashes or neatly severed limbs. Their injuries were near bloodless, the wounds seared shut by the heat. Just as they lost sight of him, Eskal glanced back in their direction. He met Hafn's eye, and gave a firm nod of acknowledgement before the contact was broken, and Eskal stood alone against the horde.
Yet no-one else seemed eager to challenge him. The few Sun-Cultists scattered amidst the mob were staying back, watching and waiting, and the sacrificial rioters had enough survival instinct to know rushing the swordsman would only end one way. Eskal's sword danced back and forth as if sniffing for a foe, and the crowd flinched at its movements. It was then Eskal caught movement in the group, and felt true fear at its source. A tall and muscular Daysider pushed his way through the mob toward the stage. He moved as if the other Kyyreni were invisible to him; he simply marched forward, uncaring of whether people were shoved aside or trampled beneath him. At least one poor soul suffered the latter fate, howling in pain as his ankle snapped beneath a suspiciously heavy stomp. The orange giant pulled himself up onto the stage and basked in the attention, turning slowly so all could see him. His uniform was made up of dark leather and crude, but heavy metal armour on his limbs, and he bore far more scars than any other cultist. Despite his fierce apparance, it was his cloak that drew the cries of horror from the throats of the assembled. It was a cloak of skin and fur, stitched together from the hides of Dawnsiders. "Behold me, your Warmarshal!" he roared to the crowd, and his loyal followers answered his cry with jubilant energy.
"You've done well for yourself, Haakyr," Eskal growled, dropping low into a fighting stance as the Daysider finally chose to acknowledge his existence.
"Ah, the meat speaks. You fight well, for a weakling, but your silly theatrics have spoiled my evening's amusement. For that, you must die." Haakyr pulled his cloak aside and revealed a hefty one-handed axe. It was a savage looking weapon, its blade stained with old gore and notched from use. A flick of the wrist brought it free of his belt, and Haakyr's fingers fit perfectly over the faded marks that marred the crimson leather of the grip. With a sadist's smile he added, "Try to amuse me before you die."
Barring his shark-like teeth, Eskal spat back, "you forget, I was always stronger than you! Don't think time has changed that!"
Haakyr paused, his abusive sneer shifting to a flicker of confusion, then cruel revelation. "Eskal? The coward who fled! Well, you are a sight for sore eyes! Embrace me, brother!" the giant opened his arms wide in what seemed a genuine act of greeting, but as he approached Eskal the heat-sword gave a warning twitch.
"I am no brother of yours, Haakyr!" Eskal snapped as he inched backward, glancing around as much as he dared to work out an escape route. The Warmarshal lowered his arms, making a disappointed tutting sound in the back of his throat as he carefully followed Eskal's every move.
"You've come a long way, my friend. Look at you now, bravely defending the weak, just like you always wanted to! Look how strong we made you!" With a gleeful laugh, Haakyr put away his axe and turned to the crowd. "People of Taviksaad, behold! This wretch was once a runt pup, a simpering coward who soiled himself in terror at the mere threat of a beating! He would lie in his filth and sob himself to sleep every night, but look at what the Sun God made of him! Look at the warriors dead at his feet! Look how easily he slaughtered your friends and family for the crime of being in his path! Look how great we made him!"
With a blur of speed that seemed impossible for a man his size, Haakyr span to meet Eskal's silent lunge. The Daysider's gauntlet closed around the heat-sword with a shriek of tortured metal, and before the noble could raise a pistol he was struck with a fierce punch to the face. Eskal reeled back, but couldn't escape the grasping hand that closed around his neck and held him in place as Haakyr's knee came up into his gut. With barely a grunt, Haakyr flung the Dawnsider backward, cracking his spine against the support strut of the screen and causing fragments of glass to rain down onto him. "Good man," he purred, "You were wise to try and stab me in the back; we both know you could never win otherwise."
Eskal staggered to his feet, grimacing in pain at every motion, and struggled to bring his pistol to aim. To his horror, he saw his blade was still locked in Haakyr's gauntlet, and the metal of the palm now glowed with heat. "S-stay back!" he barked, blood and spittle falling from his muzzle as he spoke. "I will shoot you, Haakyr!"
With a dismissive grunt, Haakyr tossed the shrieking sword to Eskal's feet, seemingly unconcerned as his opponent readied the blade once more. He briefly examined his own palm, more curious than hurt, and marveled at how flesh and metal had fused together under heat. "That is a fine toy, my friend. I look forward to playing again."
The Warmarshal turned to the crowd once more, utterly unconcerned with the weapon now aimed at his back. "Cowards and weaklings, I grow bored of this! There will be no lynchings today! There will be no more riots! My oldest, dearest friend has returned to me, and I order you to celebrate! Fill my streets with music and joy, or my men and I will make bloody sport of you! No harm shall come to my companion, Eskal, nor his friends! I have spoken, so shall it be done!"
Eskal stood, shaking with pain as he watched the crowd disperse. The air reeked of blood, burned flesh and other foulness, but one scent ruled over all; terror. The Sun-Cult spread it like no-one else could. Haakyr basked in the centre of the stage as his will was done before turning once more to Eskal. "You should rest, my friend. You have had a busy day. We should celebrate. Food, drink, women. Did you ever learn to enjoy a woman's body, Eskal? I remember how it pained you to defile them."
"Unlike you, I like my partners to be willing," Eskal spat back, but his defiance served only to amuse Haakyr further.
"You will learn, my friend. Go, crawl back to the Sinking Light and do whatever it is that pleasures you. When I am ready, you and I will speak again, and I will remind you what it is to be strong." With his final words delivered, and a mocking laugh upon his lips, Haakyr turned north and marched away as, by his command, festive music began to fill the streets once more.

Skal had left the governor's palace in a hurry, and under howling, thrashing protest.
Kadan had dragged him out of the chaos at the Palace and into the nearest precinct, where they'd sat and waited as information trickled out piece by piece. The Lord Governor and the Dawn King had been rushed to hospital under armed escort, and Sam had been whisked away at the same time. Kadan wouldn't say where she'd gone, and he shut down any and all attempts to inquire. When Skal pressed his luck too far, Kadan had lost his temper and struck him. Neither spoke for some time after that.
Although Skal couldn't learn anything about his friend, he did discover Kadan was being kept out of the loop. Mutterings filtered down that the Correctors were suspects in the attack, and while the Guild had no wish to turn on its own, distance had to be maintained. It was a long time after learning this before Skal dared speak about it, and the boy was surprised that Kadan barely acknowledged the revelation. Soon after, they had received a call from Kas, telling them Javik had requested their immediate assistance. He claimed the entire City, perhaps even the planet was at stake. They made haste to his estate, and Skal was sent to join Lyy in her room while the adults discussed the situation.
Lyy's room was full of wonders. Her wardrobe was packed with expensive dresses of rare fabrics and studded with gemstones or edged with silver weave. Rings, bracelets and necklaces of silver, gold and platinum filled her bedside drawer, with a few well-used items left lying around as if they were nothing. She had few toys, but they were all high-price items, over-indulging in exotic woods or rare metals to make them artworks more than playthings. Her rek game board alone was worth more than most men earned in a month. When he asked how she could have so much she answered, "I had to earn it. Javik's fond of my body." The tone she used was that of someone who'd forgotten to dry their laundry, or some other minor task. Not long after, he made an excuse about needing the latrine and left to listen in on Kadan and the others.
As Skal peered into the spacious living room he caught sight of familiar faces; Ivaka was sat on a lounge chair with Hafn and Ros held close to her. The two Penitatas were visibly shaken, keeping quiet and appearing detached from the increasingly heated debate going on before them. He glimpsed Kadan as he paced the room with an open bottle of brown spirit in his hand, and when Skal dared lean out a little further he saw the dignitaries from the orbital flight. The Kyyreni, Eskal, appeared blooded and battered, while Kayla was at the back of the room talking urgently with Javik.
"We are wasting too much time here," Eskal snapped as he watched Kadan's prowling. "Brunnel is the key to all this, and we need to hit him now! I need you to call up every available man so we can move on him!"
Kadan took a long pull of spirits and growled out, "there are no men available! We're trying to lock down the City and retake the streets, and we don't have the bodies for either! For all you know your mark has bolted already!"
"There must be someone you can call up? Reserves, or militia?" Eskal prodded.
The Corrector-Captain slowed his pacing, his tail twitching irritably as he muttered, "I can't call up anyone. I'm a suspect in this shit-show."
"All the more reason to help me clear you name," Eskal replied firmly. As Kadan downed the last of the bottle he turned toward Kayla and asked, "does Javik have everything you need?"
The Aspatrian gave a quick hand gesture and said, "I should be good to go by the time you arrive. We're going to try and piggy-back off the Silverman satellite and bring the full might of the team down on Brunnel. Once his system is overwhelmed, it's all over. All you have to do is get me an access point, so keep that node safe. You might want to keep him sober."
The final comment was aimed squarely at Kadan, who had abandoned his empty bottle and was now inspecting what other liquid delights Javik kept in his drinks cabinet. The Captain scowled at her with disgust, but returned the bottle he'd been holding to its proper place. "Two of us against a mad genius, is it? This is going to end well."
"I'm coming as well!" Skal barked from his hiding place. He ran into the circle of adults, trying his best to look fierce as he squared off against his master. "He hurt Sam! He used her, and I won't let him get away with that! I am coming with you, no matter what!"
Before Kadan could formulate an answer, Eskal stepped up behind Skal and placed a paw upon the boy's head. "We could make use of him, as a lookout if nothing else. An extra set of eyes could be the difference between life and death today."
The backing of Eskal gave Skal fresh confidence, and with as much defiance as a six year old could muster he shouted, "besides, if you won't tell me what happened to Sam this is the only way I'll get any answers!"
Kadan bared his fangs, but held his tongue. He took a long pause to compose himself before reaching for his communicator, muttering curses under his breath all the while. Turning his back, he spoke to someone for a short while, then hung up. "Haal will be picking up your girlfriend. I asked him to keep her safe, and he will. Happy now?"
He wasn't, but a firm squeeze of his shoulders served to warn Skal against any over-reaction. Glancing up briefly toward Eskal's carefully neutral face, he looked back at Kadan and nodded, pouting but quiet. He gave a thought to his friends and studied their reactions, finding Ros remained timid and shaken, but in Hafn's eye there was a glint of admiration; whether that was for the courage he showed in chasing down Brunnel, or his defiance toward his master, Skal couldn't say.
With a loud clap, Eskal proclaimed, "Let's not waste any more time in arguments! Iacta alea est, and so we are off to our purpose! Kayla, I believe I have a pair of ear-mics? Thank you. Now, Javik, kindly loan us one of your vehicles. I suspect we haven't the time to waste in walking."

Brunnel's lab looked for all the world like an abandoned industrial lot. There was no good view of the entrance from the road, and Kadan cursed the fact openly as he steered Javik's luxury cruiser to a halt outside. They had barely switched off the engine before Kayla's voice called to them via the communicators, "Kayla to away team, can you hear me?"
Kadan growled out his disdain for their designation, but Eskal pointedly ignored him. "A1, Kayla. You have an update?"
"Just a little concerned; the lab is a communication dead-zone, at least for regular signals. There's some impressive technology on site putting out a lot of power, but some of it is deliberate. Signal scramblers and the like. Kadan, could you sound off?"
"I can hear you just fine," Kadan answered.
"A1 for both of you," Kayla answered. "I'll warn if I start losing signal. Now, I have a camera feed from the lot to your left, but my view's no better than yours. I'm going to need you to get me on-site access to do more than listen along."
"Copy and out," Eskal replied. He took a moment to check his weapons and stepped out of the car. Kadan followed suit, hand on his holster as he slowly moved toward the building. Pausing only to remind Skal to stay low and keep the link open, the noble stepped around the car and fell in beside the Corrector-Captain.
Skal watched impatiently from the car, noting that there was nothing to note. There were no other cars here, nor was there any foot traffic nor idling individuals whispering to themselves. The road was dead, save for the away team. The prospect of sitting alone in the car, forgotten, boiled Skal's blood. The longer he watched as the adults surveyed the front of the building the more restless he became, until his drumming fingers snapped to the door handle and he bailed from the car, storming deliberately after his master. That impulsiveness saved his life, for he hadn't yet crossed the road before Kayla's urgent shriek of alarm stung his ear. He looked up in shock to the roof of the building as what he thought was a cooling stack peeled open and revealed itself to be a turret. Then he was flying through the air, flung with such jarring force that he hadn't thought to cry out. The impact against the wall knocked what little breath Skal had from his lungs, and Kadan's body pinning him in place did little to help. As his senses returned, he became aware first of the loud, mechanical droning from above, and a terrible clattering sound from the direction of the car. He realised, as his mind cleared, that Kadan had threw him clear of the turret's line of fire as it raked the roadway and reduced their vehicle to a shattered, bullet-riddled husk.
"Kayla, we need a way in! Fast!" Eskal shouted over the din as he shoved Kadan to move towards a back entrance. A second automated defense had woken up, and tore up the frontage they'd been hiding behind.
"I have building plans here, hold on," the voice in their ears answered. "I don't have those guns on the plans, but I do have a ventilation unit. It should be directly above you."
The vent was where it should have been, but what Kayla had failed to mention was its size. A quick volley of shots from Eskal's pistol dropped the vent cover to the ground, and a quick glance at the metal told both men that neither would fit. With their tails to the wall, and no way back, Eskal voiced what all three knew to be the only option. "Skal, you'll have to go in. We'll boost you up! Crawl in and find an access port for this node. Once you've plugged it in, Kayla will do the rest."
Skal gave no word of protest. He was shaking head to tail, but it wasn't fear that gripped him as such. Moving forward, even into a dark, claustrophobic metal vent, was far preferable to being stuck in place and watching for some new automated weapon to pop out of the wall. He scrabbled inside and crawled along, grunting with effort and wincing as the vent's ribs dug into him. It did not seem a long distance, but it was tight and uncomfortably warm, two features that only grew worse as he pressed on. After a few metres he was squirming more than crawling, sweat soaking his fur as he gasped his way to a ceiling grille. With no room left to shift, and the warm metal now uncomfortable to the touch, Skal let his shoulder thump into the recess of the grille, twisted as best he could, and kicked off with all his might. With a loud clang the grille gave way, dumping the boy head-first into a medical work space. Fortunately, the Penny was able to twist in the air and land on his back rather than his skull, but the force of the impact was still enough to leave him paralysed for several long, painful seconds. The table he lay on had been occupied with tools and instruments, and the debris crinkled as he moved in a manner distressingly like ground glass. Waves of hot, damp pain arched through Skal's spine as he rolled off the table and dropped to the floor, shaking his head and blinking hard to rid his vision of tears.
"An intruder, is it?" a voice asked from behind a partition wall. Skal's head snapped up at the sound, but he didn't wait to see who was speaking. Pain briefly forgotten, he scrabbled toward the nearest computer and fumbled the node into a universal port. Mere seconds later, Kayla's comforting voice came to his ear.
"I see you, Skal. I have cameras... and I have doors!" on her word, the door behind him swung open to permit Kadan and Eskal access. The pair ran over to the boy and knelt beside him, worrying over him. Skal knew then that he must have been hurt, or at least bloodied, Kadan made a point of looting a nearby cart for wipes and gauze.
"Are you really going to keep me waiting?" the unseen speaker taunted, and all three Kyyreni turned their eyes once more to the partition. Yet they ignored the taunt, applying first aid to Skal before helping the boy up and steering him between them. Each man had a pistol drawn and aimed, with Kadan on point and Eskal covering the rear. They stepped around and into an airlock. The doors on both sides slid open, defeating its purpose but permitting them access. Neither man tarried long for fear of being trapped, with Eskal carrying Skal across the threshold rather than risk him being stuck alone. There, in the next room, stood before a large computer console and surrounded by surgical and scientific equipment, was their quarry.
Richter Brunnel stood facing a large, five-screened terminal, apparently uncaring of their presence. He was plugged into a semi-circular device in the ceiling, linked to it by four thick cables that socketed into his hunch. With theatrical slowness he turned to face the intruders, his three glowing eye-lenses each independently tracking one of the trio. "I am surprised you made it this far. Surprised, yes, but also glad; I so rarely have a chance to 'get my hands dirty', as the saying goes."
"Come quietly, Richter," Eskal growled, his pistol aimed at centre-mass of the cyborg. "I won't ask twice."
"Permit me a rebuttal," the doctor answered, raising a weapon and snapping off an energy bolt that struck Kadan squarely in the chest, blowing chunks of armour clean off the breastplate and slamming the Enforcer backward. Eskal's return fire ripped through Brunnel, blowing off limbs and exploding his mechanical head. The cyborg spasmed violently, then hung limb, suspended like a marionette by the cables in his back.
Eskal turned toward the Enforcer, but before he could inquire into his well-being a burst of weapons fire tore his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard and shrieked in pain as a ceiling-mounted gun tracked towards Kadan, who had begun to raise his pistol, and let fly with a burst of soft rounds that bludgeoned his right arm and left him gasping in agony. Skal darted to his master, holding him tight and whimpering in fear as a second cannon deployed and tracked, leaving both adult Kyyreni pinned with a red laser-dot on their foreheads.
"I know you're watching, Miss Ackart. Let us talk business."
In Javik's office, an icy chill ran down Kayla's spine. The voice had come through her communication link with the away team. "I'm here, Richter," she answered coldly, eyes locked on the hacked security feed that showed the terrible predicament of her companions.
"I trust you have seen the predicament your colleagues are in? The defense systems use less-than-lethal ammunition, but I assure you a less-than-lethal round can still kill. It just takes time. I have never tested to see exactly how many rounds it would take to inflict fatal injuries on a Kyyreni, but we could find out together if you would like."
"Don't you dare hurt them!" Kayla snapped, physically shaking with anger at the doctor's soft, pleasured tones.
"If their safety is so important to you, then I suggest you do exactly as I ask. I want access to the Silverman network, care of their orbital satellite. I know about the honeypot, so don't so much as consider that option. Give me unrestricted access, and I will spare the hostages. Is this understood?"
"Understood," Kayla answered, and promptly shut off the link. She turned to Javik with a wicked grin upon her muzzle and added, "we've got him!" Her fingers danced as she prepared her snare; encrypted messages were dispatched to the ship in orbit, ordering the hacker team to make ready. As soon as Brunnel linked to the satellite he'd find the best hackers, crackers and data-slicers in the Confederation stood at his digital doorstep, ready and eager to hijack his link and shut his whole operation down. She didn't dare convey any of this vocally, for she had no idea how much access to her current system Brunnel had, but text via an ultra-secure data line was more than enough. Confirmations from orbit flashed across the upper-left corner of her display: all ready.
As she reestablished her communication link, Brunnel's voice reached out once more, twinged with irritation. "I trust that long silence was caused by the furious concentration required to gain network access?"
In a terse tone she answered, "It was, yes. I'm ready to connect you. I have your word my friends will be safe?"
"Uplink me immediately, or I open fire," was Brunnel's callous answer. Forcing a curse for the look of it, Kayla responded by providing exactly what he asked for. For a few tense seconds the link was silent, save for the laboured breathing of her friends, until Brunnel purred out, "ah... at long last, access! Oh, and it appears I have been deceived! The crafty little fox has tricked me into giving her friends access to my systems! Oh woe! Oh woe is me!"
"Kayla..." Eskal's breathless voice was almost drowned out by Brunnel's mocking tones. She wasn't listening to either of them; her eyes were fixed on the data-channels monitoring the satellite uplink. Massive amounts of data were being transferred from the surface to the satellite, and then onward to somewhere else.
Admiral Strugar's anxious tones came next, "Miss Ackart, we're under attack! There was a massive inload to the EWS, and we can't shut down the link! We've managed to seal our systems off from the rest of the ship, but-" the line went silent. Kayla sat still, numb with horror at what she'd done. She'd provided an avenue of attack, just as planned; she hadn't dared to imagine Brunnel could have overwhelmed her allies in orbit.
"Don't feel bad, Kayla," Brunnel said mockingly, as if reading her thoughts. "You are only exceptional by mortal standards. Once I have your ship, imagine what I will be able to accomplish! No more running, no more hiding, no more wasting my talents on outdated organic lifeforms..."
"Kayla, are you there? I... I can't hear you, Kayla," Eskal's strained words snapped her attention back to the security feed. Eskal was on his back, his breathing shallow and erratic. "You have to stop Brunnel, Kayla. There's no time left..."
"I know, I'm trying! Hold on!" she answered anxiously, uncaring if Brunnel was listening.
Eskal's head lolled to the side, his weary eyes briefly fixing on the camera before clenching shut in a grimace of exhaustion. "He's somewhere here... on Taviksaad... hiding in plain sight. Let me... you look... while I sleep a little."
"No!" Kayla shrieked, practically jumping from her seat, "Eskal, stay awake, please!"
"Hiding in plain sight. Going to sleep now." Eskal mumbled again. His muzzle drooped, and his breathing slowed. Kayla blinked back tears as she watched him slip from consciousness, and barked a curse as her claw smacked the mute key. She took a moment to wipe her eyes, blinked a few times, and smiled a gleeful smile as a thought struck home like a thunderbolt.
She briefly turned to Javik and gave an excited laugh, "He figured it out! He's a damn genius!" her hands went to the keys at once, and with furious focus she began selecting programs, assigning attack sequences and speed-writing execution code, all the while rattling off the Javik the revelation she'd received. "Brunnel's a machine, just an organic brain in a cyborg body, but he built himself up in layers over the centuries. His outer layer is this facility, all shiny and new and ultra-high tech, but at his core is an ancient OS with ancient flaws! All I have to do is find a way into his body and I've got him... going red!"
Code danced before her eyes. Brunnel had locked out every system you'd imagine to be important, but she could gain access to the systems he considered trivial. She already had internal cameras, but now she was cannoning deep into his system structure, sniffing out so much more. Her attack protocols burrowed down through the stratified functions, layered like sediment, and dug up software bones so ancient it was likely Brunnel had forgot they existed. It was base-level stuff, something that most people would never imagine to be important in the grand scheme of things, and even a cyber-security officer might consider sacrificial in the midst of an attack. But Kayla knew now these tools were vital. Her eyes briefly flickered to the satellite uplink and the text-box that linked her to the ship. They were losing ground. Half their systems were now compromised, and each fallen operator increased the options available to Brunnel. "Minutes away from GG" was the last message she got before the link itself was lost, the computer receiving it having fallen to Brunnel's assault. A few quick keystrokes turned her attention from Brunnel to the City infrastructure, where she would find the last weapon she needed to end this conflict.
A quick claw reestablished communications. "Brunnel, this is Kayla. I'm giving you one last chance to surrender before I take you out of action once and for all!" No answer came. "Brunnel, I mean it! I'm going to give you thirty seconds to stop your attack, and then this is over! Do you hear me?"
The doctor's disembodied voice replied. "We both know that if you could truly threaten me you would have no need of the theatrics. You are bluffing, Kayla. I have effortlessly repulsed every attempt you have made to access my weapons systems or sabotage my link with the ship. This is over."
Kayla's eye glanced to a tracker on the edge of her display, watching the numbers as they approached a critical mass. Despite knowing exactly who she was dealing with, and what was at stake, a part of her still hated what she was about to do. "I wasn't after your weapons, or the link. I was after your internal diagnostic systems. I didn't want you to notice that I've been charging your batteries, those giant ones you keep in the basement. We both know what happens when you overcharge a battery."
The counter-attack came instantly. Brunnel's systems were beyond powerful, able to overwhelm Kayla in seconds, but Brunnel didn't have that long. The cameras went dead, as did the communication lines. All she had were blank screens and error messages, which lingered for almost a minute before a comforting black text box flickered into life. Attack over. Nice save. "Thank you," she chuckled, allowing herself a long, well-earned sigh of relief. It was over. She'd won.
"Kayla... Ackart..." the ghostly whisper of Brunnel drifted over her communication link, jolting her alert once more. The EMP had burned out all but the most rugged, and most heavily shielded systems; evidently, that included the communication link. Her hands flew as she verified the source, while the cyborg's hoarse, pathetic voice pleaded, "help me, Kayla. You must... restore power! Please!"
A low growl escaped Kayla's muzzle, "Why would I do that? After all you've done, knowing what you'd do again if I helped you? What possible reason could I have to help you now?"
With a desperate tremble the doctor answered, "your... lover. Jacob Vasse. You want a child with him, but your... species are incompatible. I could fix that, Kayla. It is... possible, with my knowledge... that you could carry his child. Spare me... save me... and I will give you what you long for!"
Kayla's paws became still over the tactile. She had long dreamed of raising a child with her Karrian lover, and had indeed dreamed of what it might be like if they could somehow conceive together. Immediately, two thoughts collided in her mind; the fearful side of her wondered how he could have possibly known that intimate dream, while the pragmatist assessed the tactical situation and found Brunnel had no cards in his hand. His systems were cold and dead, meaning the only link he had left was via his body's core operators. He could speak to her, but there was no hope of him doing more than that. "You're lying," she decided, "you'd say anything right now to escape justice. Well I'm done talking to you."
"No! Please-" the link went dead. Kayla sighed, hating how that last, cruel barb had turned a moment of triumph into doubt. She arched her neck and rolled her stiffening shoulders, flexing and curling her paws as she did so to encourage blood flow back into her tired digits. With a gentle flick of her head she put Brunnel's last words out of her mind once and for all. He couldn't be a Penitatas, not with so little organic tissue left, but he could rot in a prison for a long, long time, and he deserved it.
Javik cleared his throat anxiously, and when Kayla turned toward him the young man said, "umm, I was able to obtain some of the doctor's files and, ah, I think some of these might be of help. At the hospital, I mean. I think we should send them over, well, right away."
Kayla smiled warmly, "okay, I'll deal with that. I need you and Ivaka to find another car and check on the away team."
Heavy with static, Eskal's voice added in her ear, "Quick as you like, Miss Ackart. Your little stunt started a few fires in here."
"Of course it did," Kayla sighed, and expressed to Javik the need for haste.

The hospital was on high alert, with every man and woman stretched to the snapping point. Rejuvenation Chamber One had undergone an extensive refit, with additional crystal units, focusing lenses and control-computers all wired together to produce a monstrous machine that was less a medical device and more an engineer's nightmare. In the heart of it lay what remained of Ank T'uoda, now wasted down to the very brink of death.
"Are you sure this will work?" Vaahn asked from the control room. He had insisted on being there, and it had proved easier to work around him than make him leave.
The chief surgeon nodded unconvincingly. "We received medical notes on the virus. It's a shockingly specific pathogen... and assuming our information is correct, this will save the king."
"And if it doesn't?" the nobleman asked, unable to look away from the monstrous contraption the technicians had built.
Wokun answered for him. "It has to work. I will not have my first act as Lord Governor be bearing witness to the end of my planet! The Dawn King will survive!" And, as if waiting for this signal, the process began.
The outer cylinders began to spin up, revealing the wyrd crystals that allowed the harnessing of temporal radiation required to rejuvenate an adult back to childhood. Rings, lenses and radiators shifted position, absorbing, channeling and changing the energies as required for the process. Then the inner cylinders activated, and through a means that none present truly understood the Rejuvenator's guidance computer activated. The inner mechanism of the device was built via blind copying of ancient alien technology, knowledge won by the Kyyreni not through their own invention, but by stealing it from Humanity, who had in turn been gifted the knowledge by the Drakonians. That so much hinged on something nobody truly grasped was not a pleasant thought, and thus the ignorance of 'experts' was never made public.
As the Rejuvenation process began, all eyes turned to Ank. Precision required power; the single-crystal "emergency" rejuvenators only had one setting, turning any adult Kyyreni they were used upon to a boy of approximately six years old, or to a boy three years younger if used on a pre-pubescent Kyyreni. That barrier too, for the Kyyreni at least, was another source of ignorance. A standard rejuvenator, larger and with more crystals, could allow the subject to age as young as three or as old as ten, and keep their sex. With a little extra power, and some practice, it had also been possible to turn men into girls. The age was down to raw energy requirements, but the changing of sex was linked to the error-correction system. Whatever the genetic makeup of the ancient aliens had been, the mechanism that allowed for the removal of genetic defects also default to treating irregular chromosomes, like the Human X-Y as just another mistake. That correction could be prevented, or even flipped with enough knowledge and a little extra juice. The same principles were needed to save Ank, merely applied on a hitherto unmatched scale.
The virus Brunnel made was not, as initially feared, indiscriminate. It was made to kill Kyyreni. More precisely, it was made to kill Dawnsiders.
The entire room shook with the energies unleashed by the Rejuvenator. The baleful green light became blue-white, then flared away to angry orange before slowly fading. The terrible banshee howl that had rattled the walls shrank to a whine, then a purr, then nothing but the gentle pings and crackles of cooling metal. The universe held its breath, all eyes waiting to see if they had performed a miracle, or had become doomed to a bloody war of vengeance for their planet's act of regicide.
The cylinder opened, and a pale, wasted boy stumbled free. A Kyyreni boy of nine or ten, covered in the thick, black fur of a Nightsider. The boy crawled clear of the device, then shivered to his unsteady feet as doctors, soldiers and noblemen approached him.
Vaahn pushed himself to the front of the group. The Rejuve turned his head up to the Icaran king and blinked slowly, as if struggling to focus. "What's your name, boy?" Vaahn asked, speaking slowly and clearly.
The Nightsider chuckled playfully, "Why... oh, is that my voice? That's different. The room is so bright..."
"Your name!" Vaahn said again, more firmly, and the boy scowled at the abrupt, hostile tone.
"You of all people should be more understanding. I hear you get sick as death every time you come out of that machine. I... don't feel so good myself." He paused, covered his mouth and made a sound that caused a nurse to fetch a pan. He caught Vaahn's expression and hastily added, "blood and iron, fine! My name is Ank T'uoda! I'm the Dawn King, Royal Lord of House Tu'ri, grandson of your sworn brother and-" the boy flinched, gasped, and flung his head over the offered pan.
Vaahn gave the boy a sympathetic look as he retched. "Good enough for me. Welcome to your new life, Ank."

After everything was over and done, it felt strange to come home to the small, slightly bleak apartment he called home and simply sit, watching broadcasts. He was hurt, tired and hungry, yet at the same time he was oddly alert and focused. Kadan, as far as he could tell, was by no means as perky; he'd gone straight to the bottle as soon as they got home.
"What happened to us?" Skal asked as he half-watched a triumphant announcement concerning Ank's recovery. "Sam gets sick, and then this... and she's a pawn in some crazy scheme, and then a mad cyborg tried to kill us! I don't..."
A glass was pushed into his paws. "Drink," Kadan barked, flicking the boy's tail out of the way so he could sit down next to Skal. The boy obeyed, gulping down the strong spirit and almost choking on it.
"Welcome to the world of the fucking aristocracy!" Kadan spat, drinking excessively from his bottle of cheap spirit. "This is what they do, Skal. They've always done it. It's like... it's like this war. There's fighting way up north, safely far away, and we only see it when the mad bastards come home from the fighting, bringing the crazy with them."
Kadan thumped against the backrest, tipping the last of the awful drink into his maw and tossing the bottle away. Skal winced at the action, remembering how many times he'd suffered at his master's drunken hand. He dared probe the question, "what about Sam? What happened to her?"
With a sigh and a brief struggle against his own pocket, Kadan fished out his communicator and tapped the screen. His features twitched from confusion to concern, then to anger. Skal noted how he kept the screen tilted so the boy couldn't see. "It's been a fucked up day," Kadan said to justify his secrecy. "A lot of people are hurt, maybe dead. Sam though, she's alright. She's been taken to Black Pit - for safety! She's not being charged! We're just worried someone might come after her, that's all. Don't ask when you can see her, please. Let the world stop burning first, alright?"
"Okay. Thank you," Skal smiled, even if it felt forced. Yet, as the studied Kadan's hard, scarred features, he saw something that resembled concern. Maybe it was best to accept that, for now, Sam had to be apart from him. That thought made his stomach knot. "I just don't want to lose her again. I don't think I could take that."
An arm closed around him in a fatherly way. "I know, lad. Haal took charge of her personally. He... he does his duty. You know that. When he's set to something... he'd die to see it done." With that, Kadan slapped his knees and forced himself to stand again. "Right! Bugger all this misery! You need a wash and feed. Go get a shower, and I'll treat you to something. What do you fancy?"
The Penny boy bit his lip, much in the way Sam often did when she was feeling 'naughty'. "I... I'd like to just stay here, eat something simple. I've had enough adventure; I just want to be home."
A tremble reached the corner of Kadan's eye, but he quickly turned to inspect the refrigerator before Skal could make out the man's expression. "Home cooking it is," he announced. To Skal's relief, he didn't touch another bottle for the rest of the evening.

Epilogue:
It seemed the holiday spirit had returned to the Sinking Light, and amidst the music, drinking and dancing, Hafn was holding court. He had a mixed audience of rejuves, children and adults alike, and while the older listeners were mostly amused by his antics, the more innocent youths were held in rapt, open-mouthed awe at his narration.
"The Daysiders were baying for blood!" he announced, feverish with excitement, "They dragged us up to their gallows, evil smiles on their muzzles as they made ready to lynch us. Twelve of them at least, all laughing and mocking. 'No-one's gonna help you!' they said to us, but then the Lord Eskal leaped up from the crowd with a sword of pure energy in his hand. 'Release them now, you wretched curs!' he cries, and all eyes turn to him. 'No innocent shall suffer while I draw breath!' Then the Daysider scum dew their weapons, thinking it an easy win with so many against one. Shhk! Thawk! They all fell, heads and arms and legs hacked off, every last one killed with a single stroke of the blade!"
From just outside the circle a voice questioned the bard, "I thought he shot some of them?"
Hafn paused, thinking quickly, "He might have done," the boy conceded, "The Daysiders shot at him though, but even bullets couldn't touch him! Maybe he shot some in return, but it's the sword I remember most; with a blade of fire that burned wounds shut as it cut them!"
Impressed by Hafn's recovery of his tale, despite Eskal's best efforts to trip him, the hero of the story turned to Kayla and gave a quiet chuckle. "So I counted three on the stage, and our boy Hafn counted twelve. Care to be the decider?"
"I'm just wondering what he hopes to gain from making this stuff up," Kayla answered with a curious little grin. "The attention, I suppose. He certainly has plenty of that."
"I suspect he wants to be part of something bigger than himself. I've known many young men like that." Eskal gave a wince as he shifted in his seat. The Dawnsider took a moment to massage his legs. He'd worn long trousers as his limbs and lower half were a mess of bruises where Brunnel's guns had battered him. Then, with some eagerness he took a long gulp of his drink, a cartoonishly red liquid he called Pollen. He studied the boy a moment more before adding, "It is quite surreal, being the subject of a story like that. I've heard it all before, of course, about other people. Stories have a way of growing beyond the facts. The truth of them demands it, I suppose."
Kayla's ear twitched at the comment. She sampled her own glass of Pollen and found it to be unpleasantly bitter, but chose to suffer through so as not to offend her host. "The truth demands you exaggerate? How does that work?" she asked, forcing down a little more of the drink.
Eskal cocked his head thoughtfully, and his fingers drummed the glass as he considered how best to answer. "My family name, T'rol, comes from a time called the Five Empires. Ask any Kyyreni here about Sul Valley and they will tell you that T'rol faced a million-strong army of the Orahnaaj, and despite being outnumbered a hundred to one he achieved what was, perhaps, the greatest victory in all of military history. That's the truth. Now the facts, well, you couldn't possibly have a million soldiers all in one place like that, especially not back then. Realistically, T'rol would have been outnumbered ten to one at most, and the bulk of the invaders were a mix of conscripted men who would rout at the first opportunity. In the days before the battle, the Orahnaaj were ravaged by outbreaks of dysentery, and were generally exhausted by the long march. So a tired, sick, disloyal army went into a choke point against a prepared, fresh and motivated enemy. Is it any wonder T'rol won the day? But what kind of a legend is that? Where is the heroism in cutting down men who can't control their bowels, or for making flee a man who had no intention of staying anyway? Who is inspired by such a tale? So facts be damned; the truth of it is T'rol and his ten thousand faced a million fresh, strong, determined men of the north, and bested them in a single day's courageous action. That, my friend, is a truth that makes hearts swell with pride."
He paused to take another long gulp of his drink, and turned his ear once more to Hafn's tale only to find the boy had been persuaded to do his duties for a spell. A quick glance about the room caught the lad's green fur at a table, taking orders. Eskal idly wondered how long the dye job would take to wash out, given that it still looked as fresh and vivid as the day they arrived. His brief distraction faded, he added, "speaking of facts, truth and the questionable connections between them, I think a little honesty is in order. I haven't given you much explanation about why you, specifically, were chosen for this mission. In fact, I outright lied. I'm the reason you're here, you see. I recruited you personally."
Kayla paused, her brow furrowed at the revelation. She took a moment to study Eskal's face, but saw only the quiet, almost childish man she'd met on Earth, back before the long voyage and the events of recent days. "Why me, exactly?"
"Because I'm a fan, of a sort," Eskal confessed with a shy grin. "You first came to my attention many years ago. I was passing through an unassuming town on business and I decided to sit and enjoy the sunshine at a cafe. I caught up on the local news and there was a shocking tale about an Aspatrian Penitatas who was, shall we say, the victim of her teacher." He briefly glanced toward Kayla and saw the flicker in her eye that confirmed she knew exactly what incident he was referring to. He continued, "So I looked into this little girl a little more. It turned out not long before that incident, this 'Kayla Ackart' helped foil a robbery. Strange, don't you think? A Penitatas who fights crime? I kept an eye on you after that, following my sources for any other signs of high adventure. Mostly it was day to day things, the sort that makes it into a Penny's file but not the headlines, but some of that showed great promise. I particularly liked how you hacked into your own school system to find proof of a friend's tampered grades."
Kayla's scowled at her companion and asked in a voice that was less stern than her expression, "are you saying you hacked into my personal files to stalk me?"
"I was considering you for a job," Eskal answered her, "the kind of job where you don't send in an application. After the whole Velius incident that was well and truly off the table. I couldn't take the most famous Aspatrian in the galaxy into my employ. Besides, I knew by then you'd never have worked with me; you were too good, too kind, too pure of heart. I read all I could, from news to classified documents, and it painted an image of a young girl who was desperate for a second chance at life. A girl who brought joy to those around her, and who inspired others to be better with her every word and deed. Almost every word and deed," he corrected with a mischievous little smile. "I suppose I count myself amongst that latter group. My journey to Earth had left me bitter, and while it made me strong, it also made me cold. I... also harboured some guilt. Aspects of my past that stained my soul. More than once I'd considered marching into the nearest police station and confessing everything I'd ever done, hoping the life of a Penitatas might remove the burdens on my conscience. Then I see one of the most notorious criminals who ever lived risking her hide for others, going above and beyond to do what she believed was right, personal cost be damned. It was inspiring."
"Well... you're welcome, I think," Kayla answered, still trying to puzzle out where Eskal's rambling tale was headed.
Perhaps sensing her confusion, he winced himself out of his chair, downed the last of his Pollen and stood before her. The Aspatrian rose to meet him, and was surprised when Eskal took her paws in his own. "I won't be going back to Earth. I'm staying here, on Taviksaad. I have unfinished business here; a chance to right the wrongs that haunt me. I just wanted to say... it's been fun! You helped me bring a dangerous man to justice, you saved the life of someone near and dear to me, and I suppose you helped reunite me with a long-lost relative. Gods, I'm pretty sure I'd have died if you hadn't stopped Velius all those years ago! All that and who knows what else you've done... it's fair to say that I wouldn't be here, helping to write the history of this world without you. So, thank you, Kayla Ackart. I owe you more than you will ever know."
He offered her a friend's embrace, and she accepted. As they broke apart, Kayla couldn't help but notice how Eskal swayed on the spot. "Now, I have had far too much Pollen and so I must retire. You make sure nobody plugs that brain in a jar into the ship's computer, or any computer! I won't be there to save you next time!" With that, and another wobbly hug goodbye, Eskal stumbled upstairs, wincing and groaning at the long walk up to his bedroom. When he finally arrived, with the help of a few walls, he found all belongings concerning their mission had long-since been removed and returned to the custody of the Admiral. This, he realised, left him only with the clothes on his back, a suit in need of wash and repair, and - he paused to confirm - the weapons hidden under the bed. The idea of having so little made him giggle, although Pollen had a way of making people giggle about almost anything.
The nobleman sighed with relief as his back hit the soft mattress, and he savoured the peace of the humble bedroom. The fine details had yet to be resolved, but having committed himself to abandoning the Confederation he felt oddly at peace, more than he had in years. As the room span gently around him, Eskal considered the events that had led to that moment, and his imagination began to paint a bright, shining line across the ceiling. That line was his life, from birth to present, and along it were numerous nodes that branched off into darker, fuzzier paths that fled into the corners of the room, where he could not see them. There was the branch where he went back to Earth with Kayla and the others; the scattered points of alternative history where guilt or fate had made him a Penitatas back on Earth; a collection of extremely short lines that presumably saw him dead on Aspatria; and at the very farthest end of the line, almost where his life began, was his choice to leave Urokon as a young man. All those possible fates, and that was only the surface. His minds eye peeled back the ceiling and showed him the multiverse - the lives he could have led if the world had been subtly different - if some other technology existed, or some other species, or he were simply born on a different year...
He realised, with unexpected clarity, that he never had been able to handle Pollen. Amused no end by the revelation, Eskal lay back and tried to will the visions away. He had one life, one timeline to worry about - he would let the alternate Eskals deal with the others.