Redemption

by Androgene

The continuation of Reconciliation. Death has overwhelmed Saber Rider's personality and his clutches are Fireball and Ishara. While they struggle to survive, April and Colt launch a desperate rescue mission, aided by an unlikey ally.

Name: Androgene

Website:

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: Redemption

Summary: The continuation of Reconciliation. Death has overwhelmed the personality of Saber Rider and in his clutches are Fireball and Ishara. While they struggled to survive, April and Colt set out on a desperate rescue mission, aided by an unlikely ally.

Date of completion:

Category: Drama, angst, violence, blood, rude language

Rating: NC-17

Author's notes: I know this was a long time in the making – two years, give or take. I had to take a break back then, when I ran into a huge writer's block. It's still there, but smaller and dwindling. I get the feeling that all my SR fics are going to be slow in the making. Anyway, here's the first part of it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All 'Saber Rider and Star Sheriffs' characters belonged to World Event Production. I make no money from them and I do not own them.

---

~ Redemption ~

---

One – Hit Rock Bottom Before Rising

He was surrounded by darkness, drowning in it, imprisoned in its murky depths. It was like a physical taint, a viscous layer of blackness that clung stubbornly to his skin. Thick chains wound tightly about his naked, vulnerably body, so cold that they burned his bruised skin. His manacled arms were pulled painfully above his head, his wrists bleeding from his struggles to break free. But now he hung limply from his chains, unable and too exhausted to fight on anymore. His battered and bleeding body shook and trembled, skin flinching involuntarily from the darkness gripping him with fingers of icy cruelty.

The darkness stung like acid - tiny needles with sharp teeth eating into him, but he took no notice. He had sunk too deeply into his despair and hopelessness to notice anything.

He never knew the darkness within him was such a merciless vicious presence, never knew he had so much malice within him. It was a devastating discovery, a painful truth that crushed every belief he had had about himself. It crushed the tiny hope that this darkness could be expelled because it could not be a part of him.

Saber Rider hung his head, defeated beyond tears and despair. He saw what happened; saw what he had done through his own eyes. He railed helplessly against the malice and cruelty dealt out to his friends, had screamed when he hurt his father and despaired when he welcomed Scythe's exuberant embrace. He saw it all and he could barely stop himself.

He was trapped. And worse still, he was trapped within his own body and mind, powerless to do anything. His resolve was crumbling, faster than the waves reclaiming a sandcastle, in the face of his overwhelming darkness. Each action he committed against his friends broke his heart even further, ate away at his determination. The betrayed, anguished look in Colt's eyes when he maliciously, gleefully confessed to Robin's murder, the deliberate and cruel calculation as he manipulated his friends' emotions, and Ishara... gentle Ishara, whose only crime was to venture secretly into the New Frontier to help him. He had hurt her so bad.

He couldn't take this anymore. The horror and guilt were more than he could bear and it was breaking him further than the Conqueror had done with his own hands. He was so tempted to just let go, give in and find what little rest Fate deemed was his.

It would be so easy...

Blinded by his grief, Saber did not notice as the cold viscous darkness crept up his body in multiple liquid fingers.

So easy...to just let go...

[DON'T YOU DARE!] The strident cry cut through the darkness like a clear bell.

White light burst in his dark prison, blinding him with the sudden brilliance. A wave of warmth swept through him, chasing the icy chill away. Blinking against the light, Saber squinted at the glowing figure before him, hovering above the pool of darkness. For a hysterical moment, he thought his mind had finally broke, that the white presence was another part of himself that had splintered away from the whole. Just as quickly, he realised his mistake.

The presence was distinctly female and incredibly familiar. The white glow dimmed and he could make out the face, the luminous violet eyes shining with tears and frantic determination. He could also feel the compassion and love emanating from her, wrapping him in a protective blanket.

[Don't you dare give in!]

[Ishara...]

[Don't give in!]

[I'm tired, Ishara. I can't...fight this anymore.]

[Yes, you can. Come back to us, Saber.]

[I can't ever return. I'm a traitor. They will not forgive me, especially Colt for what I did to Robin. My father, I have completely disappointed him.] Dull, hopeless blue eyes met hers. [Don't you see? Death has won. There's no point continuing anymore.]

[Yes! There is! They are all fighting to get you back! Admiral Eagle, April, Fireball, they are all fighting to get you back! Your father loves you too much to give up on you. All the people you care about, they are doing every to help you!]

[Why should they? After all the pain and suffering I have caused them,] Saber murmured brokenly. [How do you expect them to ever forgive me for my crimes? I can't ever make it up to them.]

[Giving in is the coward's way out,] she told him desperately. [The Saber we all know will never give up, no matter how terrible things get.]

But Saber was past the point of listening, totally convinced this was the only way he could make amends to all the lives he had taken wilfully. [Go back, Ishara. Let me be.]

[NO!]

She remembered the vision that drove her to venture into the New Frontier, the vision of a silver sword shattering against an implacable pale glowing blade and ever-lasting darkness sweeping across the galaxy. It was a vision that must not come true.

[Believe in yourself, Saber. Believe in the goodness of your heart.] She pled and desperately clasped his cold pale face in her shaking hands. [You must keep faith in yourself. This isn't the end. Please come back to us.]

She remembered another vision, one from a very long time ago of her own future. And in that long-ago vision, her path was always changing but her destination always remained the same.  

Ishara closed her eyes and made her decision. The 'how' wasn't important in the end, but the 'why' mattered. Regardless the end, she would not regret the journey.

Saber's eyes flew open when he felt slim arms sliding around his neck and shoulders, the warm soft presence pressing against him. To his horror, Ishara had sunk into the roiling darkness of his soul and enfolded him in her embrace. The soft glow emitting from her diminished greatly, as the viscous darkness surged in reaction and greedily embraced her like quicksand. He heard Ishara's gasp of pain and felt her grip tightened about his neck.

[Ishara, no! Go back!]

[I'm staying,] she said through gritted teeth.

[Please! I'm not worth it!] Saber's terror increased tenfold when he realised the darkness was pulling at her with countless eager tendrils, trying to drag her off him and into its killing depths.

[You're worth...everything.] She whimpered in pain and effort, and pressed closer, burying her ashen face in Saber's sweat-stained neck, trying to ignore the darkness attacking her. It felt like countless tiny mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth were tearing tiny strips of flesh from her. [You're so important to...everyone...So many...hearts will break...if-if you give up like...like this.]

Ishara took a deep shuddering breath and tightened her embrace, hitching herself up against Saber against the implacable pull of the darkness. [Do you feel...this? It is...everything...I-I hold for you. My trust. My faith. My love.]

Saber groaned, yanking helplessly at his chains. He could feel it, all her emotions for him, the compassion and unshakeable belief she has for him, even if he doubted himself. He wanted to hold her in his arms, pull her out before her immersion in his darkness kill her – and he knew it would – but he couldn't break free.

[I will never leave you,] she said in a determined pained voice. [Even if the whole galaxy turns its back on you, I will not. If you give in, I will follow. I will give up everything for you.]

If Saber thought his heart had broken, he thought wrong, for it shattered now into bright glittering shards that cut deeply. Tears leaked from his closed eyes. Ishara represented the light to him, everything that was pure and good, and everything that should be protected and cherished and not to be sacrificed for his sake.

Despite his despair, Saber simply couldn't have that happening. He couldn't allow Ishara to give up the light for him, couldn't bear dragging her down into the pits of hells he was in. He could not accept being the cause of her death.

With a mighty effort, his entire body trembling from the strain, Saber pulled a hand against its manacle, twisting and tugging. Skin tearing and bleeding, pain screamed down his arm as he forced his hand through the manacle. He could hear the bones breaking, and feel warm blood spilling down his arm as his flesh tore open. In the end his hand was free, a mangled bleeding limb throbbing with agony, but his hand was free!

Panting through gritted teeth, Saber wrapped his freed arm around Ishara, pulling her upwards. Despite her best efforts, she had slipped down almost to her shoulders into the murky depths in a very short time. 

Ishara started as she felt a strong arm encircling her torso, lifting her upwards. She raised her head and inhaled sharply when she saw the spark of renewed determination within the dulled exhausted gaze. She looked down, eyes widening at the sight of his abused hand. [Saber?]

[If you climb upwards on the chains, you should be able to pull yourself free from this filth.] He smiled wanly, sorrowing when he saw the multiple bleeding wounds and burns scoring her body inflicted by the darkness within him, wounds she had taken willingly for him. [You have to go before this kills you. Wait for me. I'll come back to you.]

[You would?]

He planted a tender kiss on her sweaty forehead. [Aye.]

[Do you promise?]

[Aye, milady, I promise. It'll be very hard but I'll come back to you.]

Ishara smiled then, a small smile but brilliant with relief and faith that cleansed him and gave him a renewed boost of determination. [When you come back, you can rest with me.]

[Thank you.]

With one arm, he boosted Ishara upwards as she pulled and lifted herself free with the chains that hung suspended from nowhere. It was an arduous climb, made awkward by Saber's one-handed help, but she succeeded. Freed, her form began to glow brighter.

Ishara looked down at the battered form still trapped by the darkness. [Saber, this may be your darkness but remember, so is the light. They're both you.]

She faded away, vanishing from his mind, leaving him by himself once more in the darkness, yet not completely alone. Somehow he could feel her presence, a warm unwavering presence of pure love wrapped around the very core of his being. Her absolute trust and faith in him was humbling. For the first time in a long, long while, Saber felt the darkness within him to be less oppressive, less terrifying.

It would still be an incredibly arduous task to reclaim himself. His darkness was too strong, had too much time to ooze and cling to every part of his being, tainting all his thoughts and emotions.

Saber stared into the darkness of his soul, thinking hard. Ishara's parting words were strange but had a truth in them, a truth he realised he had subconsciously denied for a long time. This was his darkness – all the negative emotions and thoughts he had but never displayed. It was the temptations and dangerous desires he had ever felt but never acted upon. But the light still shone. It was within his chained and floundering self, not extinguished, just dimmed and trapped.

They're indeed both of me, Saber realised grimly what he had to do. It was a gamble, a risk; the balance might never be reached. But he had to try - for his friends, his family, for her and for himself.

Taking a deep breath, Saber began to yank his other arm free, gritting his teeth against the awful pain. He bit back a scream, drawing blood, as his thumb broke under the brutal pressure, but he never stopped pulling.

This was all in his head, he told himself. None of the injuries were real.

Finally, tearing a great chunk of his skin off as well, Saber finally broke free. Slowly, painfully, he unwound the rest of the chains from his body. He paused at the last loop and reached out to the warm unwavering presence of love that was Ishara, drew it even closes and held tightly onto it.

This was it: his last battle. One he must win at all cost.

Closing his eyes, Saber let go and sank into the depths of the darkness in his soul.

---

Two – Rev Up and Hold On

On Yuma, at the Wayer Mountain Range, black columns of smoke rose up from the deserts while the aloof mountain range looked on. The heavy acrid smell of burning permeated the air.

At the hidden Calvary Command Intelligence Base G1, the ground was cracked and shattered and the heavy smoke rose thickly from within these deep crevices. The destruction could not be seen from the surface but the underground base was nearly completely destroyed by the explosion and resulting fire.

Damage control was in full swing, as Cavalry Command mobilized its rescue and containment units. Soldiers, mostly medics and CCI agents, crawled over the place, removing the dead and injured, extinguishing the scattered bushfires about the base.

A distance away, in one of the ambulances, April hovered concernedly as a medic examined Senator Edward Rider. Colt leaned against the side of the ambulance, hat pulled low over his face, lost in his own dark thoughts. His silence worried April.

"You've got a couple of bruised ribs," the medic pronounced. "Other than that, you are fine. I recommend bed rest for a couple of days and you'll be right as rain."

"Thank you," Senator Rider replied monotonously.

The medic straightened. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go make the arrangement for the medic chopper to bring you back to the city."

April promptly slid into the empty space next to the stoic man, deeply worried and concerned about Saber's father. To her, Edward Rider had always been the epitome of the noblesse oblige – proud, kind, strong and more than capable of solving his own problems and those who worked for him. But now... he had aged overnight, worn down and drained by the traumatic events of the past day. Now he was a stricken and heartbroken father, stunned by the cruel fate of his son.

"Senator?"

"I'm fine, April."

"Senator, please, after what we've been through, we're hardly fine."

Senator Rider sighed tiredly. "What do you want me to say, April? The pain I feel, to see my own son so lost and so tightly under the control of those bastards...I can't find the words to describe it." He gazed at the worried woman next to him with haunted but sympathetic eyes. "Besides, I think you have enough troubles of your own."

April looked away from those sad, kind eyes. "Fireball will be all right. He will find a way to escape and I won't leave him in those Outriders' clutches."

They looked up when Admiral Eagle approached.

"They broke through our defences," he said without preamble. "And jumped dimensions the moment they were free of Yuma's gravity pull."

April was on her feet in an instant. "But that means they made the jump still within the Yuma system!"

Eagle nodded grimly. "The Outriders' technology has improved tremendously in the last five years if they are able to make the jump within a solar system. Cavalry Command and the New Frontier Council are in an uproar. I have just ordered a media blackout to prevent panic among the civilians but it can't hold forever. We have to act fast. I'm returning to HQ to convene an emergency meeting. Senator, I request you to be present as well."

"Will Saber's part in this be known?" Senator Rider asked anxiously.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry, old friend. I had hoped to resolve his matter quietly but now it's impossible. He's right in the middle of this mess and a good portion of it was his doing. It doesn't look good for him but I'll defend him as best as I can. That's why Doctor McGregor is coming along as well, and I am putting the ten Oregon victims under tight security. They will act as our evidence. April, you and Colt have a different mission."

April and Colt straightened expectantly. 

"Ramrod is being prepped for takeoff. I have called General Whitehawk and he is making the necessary arrangements. He will brief you on your mission details but essentially your goal is this: rescue Saber Rider, Fireball and Ishara at all cost. Especially Ishara.

"Now listen carefully. If you are unable to get Fireball out, you must terminate him."

"Daddy!"

"The Outriders have their hands on Saber for five years and God knows how much of our defences they have already circumvented with his knowledge. If they do the same thing to Fireball..."

April bit her lips, knowing that her father was right. It was pragmatic and cold-blooded, but for the sake of the New Frontier, it might have to be done.

"Understood, sir. Does the order apply to Saber as well?" Colt asked with an edge in his voice Eagle did not like. 

Eagle stared at the cowboy hard. "Saber is important for the information he possess about this new generation of Outriders. He has to be retrieved at all cost. But if everything else fails, then yes, he is to be terminated."

At that, Senator Rider bowed his head in anguish but he said nothing and he did not see the glint in Colt's eyes. But Eagle noticed and a shiver of unease went down his spine. Standing next to the cowboy, April looked uncomfortable as well.

"Ishara is a different case," Eagle went on, still eyeing Colt. "She must be retrieved - alive. Ishara is the only granddaughter of the Zalrian Prime Minister Tairei and much loved by him. If anything happens to her while she is in our care, we'll jeopardise whatever relationship we have with Zalrus."

April looked surprised. The healer had never mentioned anything about her family background. "Yes, sir."

Eagle watched in grim silence as both Star Sheriffs raced for the nearest chopper heading back to the city. He wondered if he had made a mistake in sending Colt along. That look in the cowboy's eyes – it was a thirst for vengeance, a dark rage and grief that had been festering for a long time, aimed at Saber. He prayed it would not cloud Colt's mind and judgement. The situation was too precarious for a loose cannon. 

*      *      *

       Fireball scowled at the Outrider standing guard outside their cell; almost half-wishing he could set the guard on fire alone from the heat of his glare.

       After being abducted by Death, he and Ishara had been thrown into the brig. Then came the roughest ride Fireball had experienced in recent times. From the way the ship had rocked so violently, he knew the Outrider ship was in the midst of a battle, fighting its way through Yuma's multiple lines of defences. There had been nothing Fireball could do but hold on and weather the ride, taking care to anchor the unconscious Ishara from getting tossed about as well.

       Then it was over abruptly.

Next thing he knew, they were roughly transferred to another ship. This second ship was a much bigger ship, Fireball could tell just from the breadth of the hallways as they marched him to his second brig. From the stark utilitarian finish, it wasn't hard to guess that this was a military ship. But it was the crew that made Fireball's blood ran cold. They were all Outriders, dressed in the recognisable brown armour. The only change was the emblem they wore; it was no longer the crest of Nemesis.

The idea that an Outrider ship could somehow managed to slip past all of New Frontier's surveillance systems to sneak a covert team onto Yuma, the capital and one of the most heavily defended planets, was chilling. Fireball wondered just how much of the New Frontier's defences had already been secretly circumvented by the enemy.

       He was swiftly put into a larger brig, stripped of his possessions and weapons, and manacled to the wall. Obviously they deemed him too dangerous to even allow the freedom of movement.

       They did the same to Ishara as well. Fireball bristled when he saw their rough handling of the delicate Zalrian and she now hung from another set of manacles from the wall, limp and unconscious. Come to think of it, she had been unconscious for too long, even for someone hit at close range by a taser blast.

       "Ishara," he called softly. "Ishara, wake up."

       She did not stir.

       Fireball was worried, but he covered it with his anger. He refused to feel fear; he would not give in to it. He would not let his enemies see him quaking with fear; there were too much at stake – lives of many innocent people and a best friend's salvation.

       A soft groan reached his ears.

       Fireball turned quickly. Relief washed through him when he saw Ishara finally stirring.

       "Ishara?"

       The short fall of pale lilac-purple hair moved as she feebly raised her head. Fireball was alarmed to see the sickly paleness in her face and the bloodless tinge to her lips. The irises of her violet eyes were shrunken to pinpoints and her breathing laboured.

       "Ishara? Are you ill? How are you feeling?" Fireball had never seen a taser bolt affecting anyone this badly before.

       "Awful...cold..." Even from where he was, Fireball could see her shaking like a leaf. "I feel..."

       Ishara suddenly retched, throwing up the contents of her stomach onto the deck. Fireball winced in sympathy. When she was done, her head did not rise again, but he could hear her rapid shallow breathing. It seemed to him that the manacles were the only things holding her upright against the wall.

       "Ishara? Daijoubu?"

       With an effort, Ishara raised her head again and rested it against her upraised arm, eyes closed in exhaustion and ashen face shining with sweat. She was obviously too ill and weak to speak further.

       "I see you have already made yourselves comfortable in my brig."

       Fireball tensed at the sound of that voice. He glared at Death standing outside their cell, fighting the shiver of apprehension that ran down his spine.

Clad from head to toes in ashen-coloured body armour and cloak that was tattered at the edges, the skeletal crest of bone gleaming under the light, Fireball saw Death for the first time in his full glory.

Flat blue eyes, malicious for its lack of humanity, looked out from beneath the mask of his crest. The energy sword and blaster hung from his belt, as well as – Fireball felt a stab of pain in his heart when he saw the naked length of Saber's cavalry sword hanging from Death's belt. The simmering undercurrent of death and violence that was new to Saber's aura since he was rescued had been unleashed; it surrounded him like a second skin, a palpable presence Fireball could almost touch.

Standing before the pale-armoured spectre, Fireball could barely recognize Saber. The more he stared at Death, the more he doubted he could rescue his old friend. Or even whether there was anything left of the friend he knew to save.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"What made you think I did anything to her?"

"A simple taser bolt wouldn't make her so sick. You must have done something else!"

"Did I?" Death eyed the ill Zalrian thoughtfully.

"She needs a doctor."

Death laughed, a chilling mocking laugh. "Prisoners of war do not have that privilege. She will live or die by her own fate."

Fireball gritted his teeth, keeping a tight rein on his temper. If he hadn't heard it with his own ears, he wouldn't believe just how cruel Saber could sound. "Where are you taking us?"

"To the Vapour-Zone, to Luwashanka. My gift to my Lord Conqueror." Death smiled thinly. "He will be very pleased, I know for sure. You should be honoured."

"Thanks but I'll pass."

Fireball suddenly noticed the strange creature standing just behind Death, half-hidden by his cloak. It was diminutive and brown-skinned, a feral-looking alien with jagged metallic silver hair. Pointed ears peeked from its hair and its features were sharp and completely androgynous. He could even see the tail, swishing with lazy anticipation, tipped with a sickle-shaped bone blade. It stared at him with glittering cat's eyes, like a predator eyeing its prey.

"What is that?" He couldn't help asking; he had never seen such an alien before.

"This is Scythe." To Fireball's amazement, Death gently ruffled the jagged silver hair. "My living weapon."

"Your what?" He stared at the creature. The creature was beautiful in an alien way and reminded him of a well-honed blade. "What did you do? Brainwash him?"

Scythe hissed. There was a sound like tearing flesh and the next thing Fireball knew, a long and slightly curving blade protruded from Scythe's narrow forearm. It gleamed coldly under the light as Scythe crouched, poised to cut him down at command.

"Master did no such things!" Scythe snarled at him.

"Stand down," Death ordered.

Scythe glared angrily at the startled Fireball and then lowered Scythe's arm. Fireball watched in morbid fascination as the telescopic blade retracted back into Scythe's arm.

"You will do well to watch your tongue," Death said coldly. "There are many Outriders who hold you Star Sheriffs in hatred."

"What are you going to do with us?"

"The usual. I know the torturers will be pleased to receive you."

"You can torture me all you want. But leave Ishara out of this."

"Why should I?"

"She has nothing to do with this."

Death's blue eyes hardened. "Wrong. Thanks to her, I now have to deal with the human's memories."

Fireball shot a quick glance in Ishara's direction. She had not said a single word. Though Ishara still hung limply from her manacles and she still looked ill, she appeared rather composed. Violet eyes, half-hidden by sweat-dampened pale purple bangs, dulled with illness, nevertheless gazed calmly at Death from beneath lowered lashes. Or perhaps she was too ill to work up the emotions.

"I've heard that the last time we had a Zalrian prisoner was about twenty years ago," Death continued. "I'm sure my Lord Conqueror looks forward to having another one again for his amusement."

"If you touch her," Fireball growled, "I swear I will-"

"You will what? Kill me?" Death taunted. "Can you even do that, I wonder? Kill me and you'll never get your friend back."

"The friend I know would rather be dead than to become this," Fireball retorted grimly. "So you better watch your back, because I also know he know he could count on his friends to stop him at all cost."

Death smiled cruelly, unfazed by Fireball's grim words. "Saber Rider is dead. There's no one else left but me. I welcome your attempt, Star Sheriff. I look forward to seeing your hopeless despair when I slide my sword deep into your body."

He stepped away, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, hiding his face from view. "The Lord Conqueror and his Horsemen will bring Armageddon to the New Frontier. Let's hope you'll still be alive to see that day coming."

In stony fuming silence, Fireball listened to the familiar footsteps fading as Death left the brig. The verbal sparring had shaken him more than he care to admit. He had never thought he would become his best friend's enemy one day, never thought he would cross wits with one of the most formidable Star Sheriffs he had the privilege to call friend. Most of all, he never thought he would lose hope in his friend.

"He's gone," he said at last. "Saber is gone."

"Is that what you truly think?" Ishara murmured.

"You saw him." Fireball gestured helplessly with one manacled hand. "That was not my friend taunting us just now. That was a complete stranger I wish I had never met. Hell, I don't think there's even a trace of him left!"

"He's there, Fireball. I know it."

"How would you know?" Fireball shot back angrily.

"Because I was in his mind when I was unconscious." Fireball stared at her. She smiled weakly at him. "I don't know how I got in but somehow I did. I got a severe dose of psychic poisoning while reaching him." She wisely did not say anything about her decision to stay by Saber, regardless of his darkness or how it would kill her. She didn't think Fireball could accept or understand why she made her choice.

"That's why I feel so ill. But I also touched him – Saber. He almost gave up. It was all I could do to persuade him to keep fighting."

The steadfast hope and faith in her gaze struck Fireball dumb.

"He is there and he is fighting to come back to us. He is fighting to reclaim himself because he knows we are here for him. We must hold on for him, Fireball. He needs us now, more than ever."

"But what can I do?"

"Believe in him."

*      *      *

The journey back to the city and Yuma Air Base was made shorter by the chopper ride they took. Neither Colt nor April spoke on the journey back; each wrapped up in their own thoughts and worries. A tension lies between them; April knew full well what was going through Colt's mind but she didn't know how to breach the stony wall of silence the cowboy had put up. Colt was too eager for vengeance, not that she could fault him, but the situation was a lot more complicated than anyone had expected.

When they arrived at the hanger, General Whitehawk was already waiting for them. "Your mission details," he began without preamble and handed April a disk. "Broad parameters only, I'm afraid. It was the best I can put together in such short time."

"It'll have to do, sir. Our most pressing problem is we have no way of jumping dimensions."

"It's been arranged. Set a course for the Umara system, second moon of the third planet. One of our contacts will be there to meet you with the necessary information and his ship. Ramrod won't be able to jump dimension but our agent's ship can. Now bring our people back."

"Aye sir."

On board Ramrod, it wasn't until they had changed into their mecha armour and were in the relative privacy of the control room that April finally gathered her courage.

"What are you thinking of, Colt?"

"What do you mean?" Colt asked brusquely.

"Don't hide from me. We haven't even begun our rescue mission and I can tell you are already thinking of taking that last option. Are you going to give up that easily on our friends?"

"Of course not," Colt snapped defensively. "We'll rescue Fireball for sure!"

"And Saber?" April pressed. "What about him?"

Colt remained stubbornly silent.

"Will you save him?"

"I swore to avenge Robin's death." Eyes burning with torment glared at her. "He killed her."

"You know as well as I do that Saber will NEVER willingly do that."

"He. Killed. Her!"

"He was under their control!"

"And that's it?!" Colt yelled, losing it completely. "I'm supposed to understand and forgive him just like that? For taking away the most important person in my life?! Brainwashed or not, it doesn't change the fact that she died at his hands!"

"Colt-"

"She died for no reason, April. She died because some Outriders hated the name Tranquillity," Colt spat bitterly. He glared at her, angry tears glittering in his eyes. "I see her in my dreams every night. I hear her pleading to me for justice and vengeance, asking why I couldn't get to her in time. Do you know that, April? If the same thing happen to Fireball, what would you do?"

"React the same way as you," April said tightly. "If this was a simple case of good versus evil, I won't stand in your way. If the person responsible is an Outrider and knowingly killed Robin, I won't stop you. I'll even help you. But it isn't so simple.

"It wasn't an Outrider who killed Robin. It wasn't even someone who truly, deliberately murdered her. Saber was under their control when he killed Robin. He was their tool, a toy in their hands. He's not the person you should seek vengeance against but rather the bastards who kidnapped him and warped him in the first place. Why can't you see that?"

"Don't you brush off Robin's death like it's nothing."

"I'm not, Colt. I'm just trying to make you see reason."

"Why should I see reason when he killed her for none?!" Colt shot back. He turned away sharply, swallowing the lump of rage-driven grief in his throat. "Say what you will, April. It doesn't change anything. Saber killed her and he must pay for it. They must all pay."

April stared at him, stone-faced and helpless in the face of his corrosive hatred. "Is that what you believe?"

"Yes." Colt brushed past her to his saddle-unit.

Her fists tightened at her sides. "If you kill Saber, you'll be no better than those bastards."

"Then so be it."

---

Three – In the Vapour-Zone

Fireball looked up warily when he heard the sounds of Outriders approaching their cell. Next to him, Ishara barely reacted, still suffering from the effects of psychic poisoning.

Four Outriders entered their cell, with blast-rifles primed and held ready. While two of them kept guard, the other two unfastened their prisoners' manacles and clapped them in binders. Fireball could not help grimacing at the sensation of needles shooting through his arms when blood rushed back into his numbed limbs. Next to him, Ishara stumbled, swaying a little as she struggled to regain her balance and strength. But it was clear from her pinched and strained expression that she wasn't going to walk very far without toppling over.

"Get a move on!" One of the Outriders growled, pushing her roughly towards the exit.

Too weak to react, Ishara collapsed in a sprawl. Outraged, Fireball pushed past his guard and hastened to her side. This close to her, Fireball could feel the minute tremors running through her slender frame, the rapid gasping as she panted for breath.

He glared at the Outriders. "She's ill," he explained tersely. "She won't be able to walk without assistance."

The Outriders laughed. "She will stand on her own or we'll make her."

From the sudden hitch in her panting, Fireball knew Ishara had not misunderstood the meaning in those words. Neither had he. He glared at them. "I doubt the Lord Conqueror will be impressed when you present a beaten prisoner to him. In fact he might be displeased with your handling."

That certainly got their attention. Whoever this Lord Conqueror was, the mere suggestion of incurring his displeasure made them nervous. Despite himself, Fireball wondered about the ruler who seemed to have greater control over his subjects than Nemesis ever did.

"You help her," one of the Outriders said reluctantly in the end. "But no tricks! Or I'll shoot you."

Fireball wasn't that foolish to attempt trickery right in the midst of enemies. Nodding curtly to show his understanding, he helped Ishara to her feet. "Lean against me," he told her.

Ishara obeyed, grateful for the strong support. "Thank you," she muttered weakly.

Together, under the Outriders' watchful eyes, they slowly walked out of the brig.

"Will you be all right?" he asked her softly.

"Yes. It just takes time. Where are we going?"

"To see the bastard who is controlling our friend," Fireball replied grimly.

She exhaled softly. In a voice so soft that Fireball could barely hear, she said, "He's...not gone...Remember that. Our...best chance...for escaping...lies with him."

Fireball said nothing. He wished he had the unshakeable faith Ishara had in Saber. Maybe he was too jaded but he couldn't help wondering: Will Saber really them?

He just didn't know.

In grim silence, they followed their guards to the landing bay where a shuttle-ship awaited their arrival. There was an emblem painted on the side of the shuttle-ship, the same one the Outriders all wore on their brown uniforms. A guard of honour flanked both sides of the shuttle-ship's open gangway – all wearing white armour and cloaks and crested helms. Their blast-rifles gleamed under the light.

"We wait now," one of the Outriders escorting them said. The prisoners were roughly led to the side, away from the honour guards.

They didn't have to wait long.

The door opened again and Death swept into the landing bay, pale cloak swirling about his feet and the heavy hood pulled low over his face. With every stride, the golden hilt of Sabre's cavalry sword peeked out from beneath the cloak.

Death crossed the length of the landing bay, Scythe, dressed in a similar cloak, following closely. He took no notice of his prisoners and boarded the shuttle-ship without even a glance at them. It was only when the guard of honour had marched in after him that they were urged roughly to follow.

The shuttle-ship consisted of one long cabin. It wasn't hard to seek out Death; he stood out among the sea of white and brown even in his pale cloak. Though space was limited, everyone gave him a wide berth. No one was near him, except for Scythe, as he stared out of the window.

"Look, Star Sheriff." Death suddenly said, turning toward his prisoners.

Fireball glanced out of the window and took a sudden intake. Beside him, he could feel Ishara's wonderment as well.

During the entirety of the last war, Fireball never had the chance to set foot on the Outriders' homeworld or the palace of Nemesis. But now he was here and saw for himself the brown dismal world of the Outriders. It was an ugly planet, vastly different from the glowing blue gem of Earth. Frankly, Fireball wasn't surprised that the Outriders had such a fixation for the New Frontier. If he had a choice, he wouldn't want to live here either.

Circling the planet was a huge orbital palace – built on an asteroid and anchored into its orbital path. The asteroid was black but the palace gleamed like a cold star, of bright metal and glittering crystal. Fireball didn't know what it was made from or how it was built, but it was a fortress as well, grand and majestic – and impossible to invade, in all likelihood.

"Luwashanka, the palace of the Lord Conqueror. It was the former palace of Nemesis, you know. But during his rule, the palace looked more like an ugly squat of fortress than what it was meant to be. Lord Conqueror restored it back to its glory."

Fireball shifted his gaze back to Death, feeling very uneasy with the thrill of exultation and worship in Death's speech.

"In a very short while, you will understand why Saber fear him. And why there is no hope for the New Frontier."

Though his face remained hidden within the hood, Fireball could still sense Death's smile of malicious anticipation.

"It is good to be back."

*      *      *

       The palace was cold, freezing in fact and silent as a tomb. The corridor they traversed curved gently to the left, a gleaming empty hallway of polished marbled floor, metal walls lined with elegant crystal lights and white drapes.

       Fireball shivered, wishing he had his jacket or something to keep warm. But as it was, both him and Ishara shivered with the cold as they were led to the throne hall of the palace. The guards-of-honour flanked them on both sides and two brought up their rear, keeping the prisoners trapped within the box. In front of them was another two columns of guards, cutting off Fireball's view from Death's cloaked and hooded back. He heard the sounds of gigantic doors opening and glimpsed an ever-widening gap of light ahead of them. Fireball suddenly noticed how Death braced himself before he entered the throne hall but he had no time to ponder about that unusual action as they entered as well.

The throne hall was equally chilly and silent, like the corridors of the palace. It was bright as well. Light, from hidden sources, reflected off pillars of white marble and steel-wrought carvings and the highly polished white marble floor. Translucent drapes cascaded from the high arching ceiling in gauzy white waterfalls, softening the cold hardness and veiling the floor-to-ceiling glass window that covered an entire wall. At the end of the throne hall was a white marble dais, and on it was a massive throne of crystal and steel.     

Fireball felt his gaze drawn towards that throne. As they were brought closer, he took his first good look of the new ruler of the Vapour-Zone and the puppet-master behind his friend's woes. And felt his heart freeze.

The Lord Conqueror, also known as Black Ice, was the epitome of merciless cold and ruthless winter. He was incredibly pale of skin and his long straight hair was completely white. A heavy crown of crystal and steel sat upon his head. His bloodless face was exotic and finely crafted, and his silver eyes – so pale as to be almost colourless – burned with an unusual intensity. A spidery-webbed gauntlet of steel encircled his right forearm. Clad in full body armour, silk and cloak of the same winter hue, he was at once beautiful, unearthly and deadly.

There was no warmth or mirth in this person, Fireball realised intuitively. He was devoid of compassion and all the bright, softer emotions. Relentless and implacable as an encroaching ice age in the winter night, he burned with a terrible purpose and dark ambition. Yet there was something utterly compelling about the Lord Conqueror's presence – an aura of power that was incredibly seductive and Fireball was hard-pressed not to cave in to it.

"Don't look," Ishara whispered so very quietly in a voice that quivered, averting her gaze completely from the ruler with the overwhelming presence.

Completely disturbed and unnerved by his reaction to Black Ice, Fireball forced himself to look away. True to Death's words, he was beginning to understand why Saber feared this Outrider. He never met anyone who simply dominated through sheer presence. Anguish stabbed his heart like a knife when he saw Death gracefully sinking down to a knee, willingly genuflecting to the ruler of the Vapour-Zone.

"Hail, Lord Conqueror." Death's accent-free voice travelled clearly through the quietness of the throne hall.

"Rise." Fireball couldn't help but shudder. Conqueror's voice was absolutely frigid and remote.

"I apologise for my long absence, my Lord. It was not of my choosing."

"I know. We will talk more about your absence in private." Fireball involuntarily took a step back when cold, glittering eyes fastened on the two prisoners. "I see you have brought something back with you."

"A tribute for you, my Lord. Amends for my unexpected absence." Death gestured for the guards to bring the two humans forward. "The Star Sheriff, Captain Fireball of the Ramrod Unit, and a Zalrian, Ishara Lilac."

Fireball dug his heels into the floor to stop himself from physically retreating and he stood fast, pale and terse, teeth gritting as Black Ice's overwhelming presence fell upon them like a heavy smothering blanket. Sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck as he strained to keep the cowardly fear at bay. It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to cringe beneath such cold apathetic scrutiny. It was bad enough that he could not meet that intense gaze. To cringe visibly would be worse. He did not understand how a person, a living breathing mortal, could strike fear so effectively in everyone else without doing anything.

"Captain Fireball of the Ramrod Unit. He, of the four, who played a key role in our defeat in the last war. Well done, Death. A Star Sheriff of such importance holds much value for us. He must be used carefully."

Fireball shuddered, dreading the implications suggested in that wintry voice.

"As for the Zalrian," Cold pale eyes turned their focus on Ishara. From the corners of his eyes, Fireball could see Ishara body shaking as she fought her own battle of wills with the ruler. "Do you know who I am, hmm?"

"I know you," Ishara replied falteringly. Her face was bloodless and her expression one of dread and fear. "I have heard...stories of the one...w-who invaded...invaded my world. The Outrider General named Dominus."

Fireball stared at her, as did Death, both surprised by her revelation. No one in the New Frontier ever knew that the Outriders had also tried to conquer the isolationist sovereign system.

Black Ice looked perversely pleased. "I must revisit your world again."

"We defeated you once," Ishara retorted through trembling lips. "We-we can do it again."

Black Ice laughed, a cruel sound that sent chills crawling down Fireball's spine. "Fool. It was Nemesis who saved your pitiful world. He recalled my forces back to the Vapour-Zone to put down the uprisings just when I was poised to conquer Zalrus. So you see, you should thank him instead."

Ishara paled even more, if that was possible, her eyes wide with horrified realisation.

"Zalrus is nothing compared to my power," Black Ice said contemptuously. "Not then, not now. I can crush your world at any time."

He leaned back in his throne, eyeing Ishara with a cold critical eye. "I can see why Black Pestilence is interested in you. You are certainly different from any other Zalrians I have ever met. Zhu'cov."

"I am here, my Lord." Zhu'cov's raspy voice slithered from somewhere in the throne hall.

Death visibly stiffened as Black Pestilence walked from the shadows of a far corner to join them at the foot of the throne dais. Behind him, he could hear Ishara's gasp of horror.

Doctor Zhu'cov looked the same as he always did – tall, gaunt and bowed over, the hag appearance of a plague ghost. But his eyes, pools of utter black, glared hostilely at the Pale Rider.

Fireball stared at him, surprised. He thought the bioengineer was dead, killed by Saber's own hands. That was what Saber told him. Could he be lying then? Fireball dismissed the thought at once. Saber couldn't have. Ishara had supported his story then and Fireball could read surprise in Death's posture right now.

Death glared at Zhu'cov, the memory of the events on Amarado's Dawn still fresh in his mind. "I see you survived," he said flatly.

Zhu'cov grinned mirthlessly. "I did say you wouldn't see the last of me yet, brother."

Death's flat blue eyes flashed. "Brother? Aye, that's what you are - a false brother. I haven't forgotten what you tried to do to me at Amarado."

"You would thank me if I succeed."

Eyes burning with hate, Death pivoted to face Zhu'cov fully, one hand lowering to the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Scythe growled low and poised to attack as well. "There is only one Pale Rider. And no clone will be able to substitute me."

"Enough." The icy voice lashed through the air like a whip. At once, everyone froze, acutely aware of the emotionless ruler on the throne.

"Doctor Zhu'cov has been punished for his indiscretion, brother. He will not repeat the same mistake again."

"...Very well, my Lord."

"The Star Sheriff will remain in your custody for now, Death. Hold him prisoner until I have decided what to do with him. The Zalrian goes to Doctor Zhu'cov."

"No," Ishara uttered the denial in a voice of pure terror.

"Now leave us," Black Ice commanded. "I wish to speak to Death alone."

"Yes, my Lord." Bowing, Zhu'cov turned to leave, gesturing imperiously to the guards to bring Ishara along.

"No! NO!" Ishara struggled against the iron grip of her guards, digging in her heels as they dragged her out of the throne hall. Twisting around, she threw a beseeching look to Death, silently pleading for him to intervene. But Death simply looked on detachedly, flat blue eyes emotionless and inscrutable. He did not blink when Fireball shouted for him to regain his senses as he too was dragged from the throne hall.

"They seem to think you're one of them," Black Ice observed calmly when they were finally alone.

"They think wrong, my Lord. I belong to you only." Death gracefully bowed, low and deep. "My fealty is to you, Lord Conqueror."

"I do not doubt that." Black Ice raked his keen gaze over the ashen-armoured form before him.

Death forced himself to remain still and unmoving, bearing the over-keen scrutiny and nerve-wrecking silence with as much courage as he possessed. He had no idea what went through his ruler's mind; nobody could guess at the dark thoughts that ran beneath the cold pristine winter. And in truth, Death did not want to know either; he never did before and certainly not now.

"Remove your crest," Black Ice ordered at last. "Show me your face."

Without hesitation, Death pushed back the hood of his cloak and took off the skeletal crest of bone. As dishevelled blond bangs fell across his eyes, he lifted his head almost imperceptibly, allowing Black Ice to look his fill. And Black Ice did, taking in the recognisable face of the man known as Saber Rider but who rode with his armies as the Pale Rider.

"Come up here," Black Ice bided. "Kneel before me."

Slowly, warily, Death mounted the steps of the dais and knelt before his sitting ruler. His shoulders remained proudly pulled back as he slightly tilted his face upwards, eyes fixed on a level below Black Ice's sharp chin. He suppressed the instinctive flinch as Black Ice leaned forward and laid his cold hands upon his face, with a gentleness that was more dangerous than his violence. Black Ice was not one for physical contact and his touch only instil fear and apprehension in the receiver.

Black Ice's long and minute study of his face was a test of nerves for Death, as he waited in enforced stillness and suffered Black Ice's cold touch in silence. He was tersely aware of the sharp nails that could draw blood with barely any effort on those fingers tracing the lines of his face.

"You look well," Black Ice remarked finally. "Untouched even. Tell me, brother, did they attempt to tamper with you?"

"They tried and failed."

"What took you from my side?"

"It was trickery and ambush," Death replied. And he proceeded to recount his experience to Black Ice.

"Do you know who was behind it?"

To his own astonishment, Death heard himself said, "No."

"No?"

"I do not know, my Lord." Death replied evenly, hiding his surprise deep and wondering why he would take such insanely stupid risk.

Black Ice's grip tightened ever so slightly about his jaws, a subtle warning of danger. "Do not lie to me."

"I am not lying, my Lord. I truly do not know."

The tightened grip remained for a long while. Death waited, heart pounding wildly in his chest. Then to his relief, Black Ice slowly released his threatening grip. "Your army awaits your return, brother."

Death felt the knot of tension within him eased. "They are well?"

"Yes, they have been under my command in your absence. You will find them well." Black Ice leaned back in his throne. "War sent her regrets for missing your return. She has gone to pave our way to war and will not return for a while. You actually have her respect."

"She only respects my skills as a warrior, my Lord."

"It is still a rare occurrence with her." Black Ice gestured imperiously. "You are dismissed, brother. Go back to your domain. Your army awaits your return."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Death genuflected low before stepping down from the dais, putting his crest back onto his brow and pulled his hood low over his face again. With a swirl of tattered cloak about his feet, he turned and briskly left the throne hall.

*      *      *

"Don't touch me." Ishara shrank back from the outstretched hand; loathing and fear clear in her violet eyes.

"And what can you do to stop me?" Zhu'cov sneered. "You are here in my lab, trapped, to do as I want. And with the psychic-dampener activated, you are even more helpless."

He took another step forward, forcing Ishara to retreat again – that is, if she wasn't already backed up against the wall of her prison cell, pinned under the malevolent gaze of those black orbs.

Zhu'cov terrified her. Her previous incarceration in the labs of Zhu'cov still lay very close to the surface of her mind. The absolute apathy and cruelty she saw and experienced was torment to her sensitive nature. She had been able to keep the memories at bay by concentrating on helping Saber, but now back in Zhu'cov's clutches again, the dam broke and there was nothing she could do to stop the memories surging anew.

This was hell to her. She could face anything but this, would face anything but returning to the pits of hell. The thought of returning to the black ocean of hopelessness and despair permeating Zhu'cov's lab was enough to shatter her hard-fought calm.

Zhu'cov took her chin in his hand, relishing the way she flinched and tried to pull away from his touch. "I've missed you, you know."

She stared at him through teary eyes, her skin crawling at his touch, inwardly cringing back from the unholy look fixed on her. Her heart beat like a frantic bird against the cage of her ribs, and all she could see and hear were the memories of her previous incarceration – the overwhelming agony and despair of the forsaken that swamped her despite her efforts to block it out.

Zhu'cov's smile broadened when he noticed her helplessness and raising terror. "You are special even among your people, I could sense it the minute I saw you. There's a secret in you, a deep hidden secret. If I were anyone else, I would have missed it. As it is, I long to discover this secret of yours."

"I'm not special," Ishara whimpered. "I don't have any secrets."

Zhu'cov chortled. "We'll see. Poor little lamb. I look forward to destroying your ignorance."

Ishara slumped to the floor when Zhu'cov abruptly released her, her legs too shaky to support her. Instinctively, she rubbed her face with her sleeve, trying futilely to get rid of the sense of filth he left on her. Despite her best efforts, tears spilled down her cheeks. "What are you going to do to me?"

"You'll find out in due time." Zhu'cov answered as he raised the barrier to her prison cell.

Alone, Ishara shivered with dread. She hugged her legs close to her body and curled tightly into a foetal ball in the furthest corner of the cell. Stay strong, I must stay strong. Unbidden, a picture of Saber rose in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut to visualise the memory clearer. He will come for me. I believe he will come for me.

*      *      *

The fortress of the Pale Rider was situated on the brown planet Luwashanka orbited, in an arid valley and among dusty brown cliffs and mountains. It was a hot, rocky and dry land, made liveable only by the series of subterranean rivers and small oasis. Yet a bustling city thrived here.

City – the word was used loosely. For it was not a city of the conventional sense. This city was a huge self-supporting military base that sprawled across the valley floor. It was a hive of activities – a cacophony of training soldiers, firing arms, and the high-pitched whines of military vehicles. The roaring cheer when they greeted their homecoming General echoed off the cliffs for miles.

"My lord." The respectful acknowledgement and bow was constantly repeated as Death made his way into his fortress.

Behind him, Fireball watched, noticing the intensely respectful manner of Death's soldiers, the fanatic loyalty in their eyes, and realised that the devotion given to Death was on par with the zealous love the Lord Conqueror commanded from his people. With every step he took, the more he was convinced. In the five years Saber was abducted, Death had indeed built a very strong army for the Outriders.

Which was very bad news for the New Frontier.

Another soldier strode towards them from the back of the main hall. Unlike the other soldiers, this particular Outrider wore a cloak of ashen paleness. He bowed low when he neared Death. "My lord, welcome back."

Death pushed back the hood of his cloak. "I trust my absence has not disrupted things greatly, Second."

"No, my Lord."

Death gestured idly to the sole human in their midst. "That is a valuable human in our custody and he is to be treated as such. Throw him into lockup, away from the others."

"Yes, my lord. May I know who is he?"

"He's of valuable use to us. That is all you need to know. I want the reports of activities done during my absence in my office ASAP."

"They are already submitted, my Lord."

"Good." Death turned to Fireball with a smirk. "Make yourself comfortable, human. You'll be here for a good long while."

"That will give me plenty of time," Fireball replied steadily.

"To do what? 'Rescue' your friend?" Death mocked.

"I believe he's not completely gone."

Death laughed, a derisive sound. He stepped close to Fireball and bent to whisper into his ear, "Then go ahead and try, 'friend'. Let's see how far your belief can sustain you. Let's see if it can keep you from becoming a Sleeper, like that poor Lieutenant Crest."

Whirling around, Death walked away, tossing back a parting shot. "You're in my domain now, human. Not yours. Take him away!"

Without a backward glance, Death strode further into the depths of his fortress, dismissing all his attendants save for Scythe, who was never far from him anyway. In silence, with his living weapon trailing behind him, Death went up a flight of stairs and headed straight for his private wing. Night was falling and Death, though he refused to admit it, was eager to retire to his chambers. It had been, after all, an unusually exerting day.

The cool quietness of his sprawling chambers was a welcome respite from the heat of the day and the worshipful clamour of his soldiers. A quick glance assured that nothing had changed – the ragged drapers still remained, blocking out the brilliant rays of the sun during the day, the specially coated windows still keep out the heat. Furniture were still kept to a minimum and scattered haphazardly about his chambers; the chandelier made from human bones cast a soft glow in the otherwise dark room. And the same coldness permeated the room, regulated by the air-conditioning. Only here, finally alone and assured of his privacy, could he relaxed at last.

He unclasped his cloak and negligently tossed it aside before sprawling onto the cushioned couch. His head fell back, arms spread out to rest along the top of the couch and one leg raised on the seat – the pose itself speaking of complete relaxation. He closed his eyes, drinking in the greatly missed familiarity of his chambers.

Even with his eyes closed, he could still sense Scythe's restless fidgeting. Death cracked one eyelid open and was amused to see the diminutive weapon trying hard to maintain Scythe's attentive crouch but failing miserably. He watched for a while, enjoying Scythe's impatience and discomfort before sitting up and beckoned to Scythe.

With a squeal of joy and gladness, Scythe bounded from the floor and threw Scythe-self into Death's arms. "Master! Master!"

Death hugged his overjoyed weapon. "You missed me."

"Yes!" Scythe planted a wet lick on Death's chin. "Did Master miss Scythe too?"

"Of course, little one."

"Master, Master, Master." Scythe crooned, cuddling into his arms. "Scythe is so happy. So happy."

"So am I, little one. Have you been well when I was away?"

"Scythe was sad when Master left. Scythe was afraid." Scythe tightened Scythe's embrace, looking up at Death with wide pleading eyes. "Don't leave Scythe again, Master. Please. Scythe hates to be alone."

"No more." Death stroked a gauntleted hand through the silver hair. "You will stay with me, no matter where I go."

"Thank you, Master." Scythe purred, pushing against the comforting hand. "Scythe will never leave Master. Never."

Death smiled down at his weapon. Of all the things he had missed, Scythe was at the top of his list. He could not recall a single day Scythe was not by his side. Scythe's absence felt odd when he was imprisoned in that human facility. But now with his weapon back in his arms again, Death was ready to ride again.

Which reminded him...

"Tell me, Scythe, how did you know where to find me?"

"Cold man told me."

"He did? Tell me."

"Cold man helped Scythe to get better. Cold man told Scythe to rest and that Scythe will bring Master home when it was time. Scythe was impatient but cold man finally told Scythe where to find Master, so Scythe went with the ship." The living weapon peered proudly up at Death. "Scythe was quiet and good when alone. Scythe did not kick up a fuss. Is Master proud of Scythe?"

"Yes, I am, little one. Scythe had been very good, I'm happy to hear."

Scythe beamed happily.

"It must have been so terrible on you, being alone in these rooms for so long."

"Scythe was not here when Master was gone."

"Oh?"

"Scythe stayed with the cold man," Scythe explained.

Death stilled. "In his rooms?"

Scythe nodded.

"And nowhere else?"

Scythe nodded again.

"Are you sure? Try to remember, little one. Did the cold man take you to anywhere else?"

Scythe's face scrunched up as Scythe racked Scythe's memory furiously. In the end, Scythe shook Scythe's head. "Cold man did not. Scythe stayed in his rooms."

"I see." Death tucked Scythe's head against his shoulder, hiding his alarm behind his usual inscrutable expression.

He knew the reason why Lord Conqueror gifted him with this living weapon, knew the secret that Scythe did not know. It was a secret only he, Black Ice and Zhu'cov knew – Black Ice for he gave the idea, Zhu'cov for executing it and Death for receiving it.

But secret aside, Scythe was vulnerable to manipulation. Death did not trust Scythe's well being to anyone but himself. It would simply be too easy to influence Scythe. Alone in the hands of Black Ice, Death could think of too many things the cold ruler could do to the unsuspecting Scythe. He didn't trust his ruler not to tamper with his living weapon. And the worst thing was, Death had no way of examining Scythe for the signs.

Scythe lifted Scythe's head. A quick bite pierced Scythe's wrist and blood began to flow. "Master, please mark Scythe again."

Death lifted the bleeding wrist to his mouth and murmured against the skin, "So patient. You deserve a reward for it."

As Scythe watched with eager eyes, literally quivering with anticipation, Death sucked painfully at Scythe's wrist, drinking up the blood.

"Master..." Scythe purred, absolutely delighted and almost giddy with happiness. The pain was good; it told Scythe that Death's special love for Scythe had not abated. "Master...take it all, take Scythe. Scythe belongs to Master."

Death's blue eyes smouldered, the eroticism of the moment stirring the heat within him. He lifted his bloodstained lips, licking up the excess crimson liquid. One gauntleted hand circled Scythe's thin waist, the other carefully clasped the back of Scythe's neck and pulled Scythe forward, the thumb nudging Scythe to raise Scythe's head and bare Scythe's throat to his bloodstained lips.  

"My little one..." he kissed the warm quivering skin, staining it with blood.

Lowering his head again, Death resumed drinking Scythe's blood. Scythe went limp, basking in Death's attention. Scythe trusted Death completely to know when to stop, and simply enjoyed the sensation of being repossessed by Scythe's beautiful master.

       It was much later in the night when Death put the weakened Scythe into bed. His living weapon did not stir in the slightest, looking pale under Scythe's brown skin. All of Scythe's wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, and Scythe slept with an exhausted but contented smile.

Death ruefully smoothed the bandages about both Scythe's wrists. He had taken a bit too much, he admitted silently. But he had gone so long without Scythe's blood that the addiction was eating him alive. He won't need to do this again for a couple of days, only just the occasional sip to keep Scythe happy.

       "What a double-edged gift you are, my little one. My need, my weapon...my weakness. Your blood keeps my implants operating smoothly. You trust your life to me but you never realised you have mine in your palm."

       Death took a lock of silver hair in his fingers and rubbed the silky strands. "I wonder...are you still my Scythe?"

       Thoughtfully, he rose from the bed and strode to his desk. There were many things that needed to be done and not all of them had to do with the coming invasion of the New Frontier.

---

Four – The Enemy of My Enemy...

Ramrod's journey to the Umara system was made in a highly uncomfortable silence. Colt steadfastly ignored April, keeping his attention fixed on piloting the Equalizer Unit. When words needed to be exchanged, Colt's attitude was brusque and remote.

It upset April to no end. Fireball's kidnapping hit her hard; she was terrified for his safety. Add to that, she worried about Ishara as well. She liked the young Zalrian and thought she shouldn't even be involved in this fiasco. And-and Saber...it was a struggle to keep hoping that somehow he could be saved.

Already stressed, Colt's behaviour did not make things better. There was so much anger, hatred and pain pent up within him, festering for three whole years, and had finally found a target – even if it was the wrong target. All of a sudden, April found herself unable to trust Colt to remain cool under fire, unable to trust him to help make the right decision and support her in this time of crisis. It was a sensation she was alien to and she didn't like it very much.

"We are approaching the second moon," Colt announced.

"Acknowledged. I don't see – wait, spotted one ship and one life form on the moon's surface."

"Initiating landing sequence."

Ramrod landed on the moon's surface with nary a bump. As Colt locked down the Equaliser, April stepped over to the view screen. She could see the smaller ship in the distance – it was clearly an Outrider ship, painted black and dark green, etched by glowing red engines.

"I never knew we have agents among the Vapour-Beams," she said aloud.

Silence answered her.

Bracing herself, April turned around to face the hardened countenance of her friend. "Colt, can I count on you?"

The cowboy visibly stiffened.

"I can't do this alone," she continued softly. "And neither can you. We're both too personally involved. There's just too much stakes in this mission. I have to know, Colt. When it comes down to the crunch, can I trust you to make the right decision? Can you be a Star Sheriff on this mission?"

Colt glared sullenly at her, silent but his eyes – filled with haunted pain and grief – spoke plenty. Why did she have to make him choose? Couldn't she just leave him be to do as he wanted?

"Please Colt," April pled. "I need your support. I must know I can count on you. God knows what kind of trouble we're going to encounter in the Vapour-Zone. Please, if not for me, can you be a Star Sheriff for her?"

"Damn it, April. Stop it," he snarled. "If I don't follow this through, I am not the Colt you know."

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't know this Colt speaking to me right now."

That struck a nerve, drove the wedge further in. They might have stood two arms' length from each other but it felt as though the galaxy laid between them, the sudden and extreme differences in opinions irreconcilable. Colt was deeply aware of what had happened, despite his festering hate, and he did not know how to repair the break. From the sad look in April's eyes, it was obvious she did not know how to either. He was vaguely glad when there came a beep from April's saddle-unit.

"We have an incoming transmission from that Outrider ship," April reluctantly announced. "I'm putting it on screen."

The viewscreen flickered to life, revealing the face of the agent they were supposed to meet – or rather the Star Sheriffs only saw the black metallic mask with opaque eyepieces the agent wore.

Colt stiffened in recognition. "Mr. Nemo!"

"What?" April stared at the viewscreen. This was her first time seeing the strange Vapour-Beam with her own eyes.

"Good day to you, Star Sheriffs," Nemo began calmly.

"Don't tell me you're the agent we're supposed to meet," Colt demanded.

"The agent you're supposed to meet isn't coming." Nemo shrugged. "I intercepted the message and came in his stead. I'm here to bring you to the Vapour-Zone, watch you make a mess of things and bring you back again."

"And why should we trust you?" April asked suspiciously.

"Because you don't have a choice. Whatever agents or spies your precious Cavalry Command chose to help you would not be of much use."

"Why is that?"

"Think, Star Sheriff. Your friend Saber is one of the highest-ranking officers in Conqueror's forces. He is Death, one of the four Horsemen and Generals, a member of Conqueror's inner circle. If you want to rescue him and your friends, you'll need to get very close to him.

"The security around Conqueror and his inner circle is very tight. You will need to infiltrate that security first before doing anything else. Trust me when I say none of your agents have successfully penetrated Conqueror's inner circle."

"And you're able to?" Colt was sceptical.

"Not as close as to get you inside Conqueror's palace, but close enough that you'll able to sneak into Death's domain and free your friends."

"What's in it for you?" April wanted to know.

"Let's just say I have an interest in Saber's welfare."

There was a grain of truth in Nemo's statement. From what little the Star Sheriffs knew, the mysterious Vapour-Beam's intention was not in becoming their enemy – or to be more accurate, Saber's enemy.

 "I am your only and best chance to get your friends back. What would it be, Star Sheriffs?"

"Can we trust him?" April asked Colt.

The cowboy snorted. "He's a Vapour-Beam and had freely declared his interest in Death. For all we know, he could be in cahoots with him!"

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," Nemo remarked. "However I didn't spend all that effort freeing him just to send him back into Conqueror's hands again."

"I still say you can't be trusted," Colt declared stubbornly.

"But we haven't got a choice," April said softly. "He's right in that sense. We're stuck here with him. We don't even know the agent we're supposed to meet so we can't go get him. Right now, Nemo is the only resource we have and he's offering it. It's not that I trust him – I don't – but we're going have to take his word that he's here to help us."

"April-"

"Colt, we don't have time to waste."

April waited in terse silence as Colt wavered, torn between distrust and recognition of a practical need. Nemo was equally still, sensing the precarious edge Colt was walking on. In the end, the cowboy very slowly, reluctantly, nodded.

"If you sell us out, I'll kill you." Colt announced flatly.

"Understood."

Beside the cowboy, April exhaled quietly in relief. One crisis averted. Time to focus on the main problem.

"You'll need to stow Ramrod somewhere," Nemo said. "I'll be waiting for you in my ship. Nemo out."

In one hour, both Colt and April had boarded Nemo's ship and were on their way to the Vapour-Zone.

The inside of Nemo's ship was much spacious than April had initially assumed, belying the narrow width of its exterior design. It was also colder and the air was moister than what the Star Sheriffs were used to. It was definitely not a human-friendly environment. April was glad she was wearing her mecha armour; it helped to keep her from feeling much of the chill.

"What can we expect on Vaporia?" she asked Nemo as she took a seat in the cockpit.

"Dust, heat and rock," Nemo replied, not taking his gaze off his navigation console. "It's a barren desert, which is why we spend much of our lives away from our world and on board ships like these. But it makes good training grounds for our military. After all, the New Frontier's capital world is Yuma and we need to learn how to adapt to the desert climate there."

"Settlements?"

"Plenty. Mostly thrived on catering to the needs of the military. It is, after all, a military-driven economy." Nemo reached into a drawer and pulled out a disk. "You find all the information you'll need on this disk. The four Generals' bases are found on Vaporia; the main bulk of their forces are on that planet as well."

"Does that include the Lord Conqueror?" Colt asked as he stepped into the cockpit and overheard the last bit of the conversation.

"Yes and no. Black Ice divides his time between his army base and his asteroid palace."

"So do you have a plan for getting us in?"

"First off, you'll need to blend in. There's nothing we can do about your oh-so-human appearances but we can certainly do something about your clothes. In the break room, there is a locker of Outrider uniforms. I suggest the both of you get changed before looking through the disk."

"And what will you be doing?" Colt asked suspiciously.

"Plotting our jump so we'll end up somewhere inconspicuous inside the Vapour-Zone. Then we'll make our way to the capital world."

"That's very cautious of you," Colt couldn't help the sarcasm.

Nemo swivelled his pilot chair around. Even though he wore an opaque mask that covered even his eyes, Colt could still feel the hard look nailing him to the spot.

"Let's get one thing straight, Star Sheriff. The Outriders hate the Ramrod Unit – your unit. If given the slightest chance, they will hunt you down and kill you in the most unpleasant way imaginable. In other words, you are walking into the lion's den and you will do well to co-operate with me."

Colt, however, was not daunted by the matter-of-fact threat. He had known for a long time – since the moment he had joined the Star Sheriffs – the threat Outriders posed to his wellbeing.

"And what about one who betrayed them?" he retorted. "I believe you're walking into the lion's den as well. You need us to stay safe, don't you think?"

"I have survived on my own for a very, very long time before I met Saber, cowboy. Inside and outside of the Vapour-Zone. So don't cross me, tin star."

"Gentlemen, please." April said tiredly. "All these bickering will not help us."

Colt exchanged one last glare with Nemo and left the cockpit sullenly. April sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, trying to delay the onset of a headache.

"I'm sorry, Mr Nemo. He's not always like this." April didn't trust Nemo at all, but right now their practical need for the Vapour-Beam's help was paramount. She figured that an apology wouldn't hurt in soothing hurt feelings and keeping the peace.

"He is on the edge," Nemo replied bluntly. "A loose cannon will only endanger this mission."

"He will do his job," April said firmly. "Like you will do yours and I'll do mine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

April stood up to leave, her patience abruptly snapping. "I'm not going to listen to this."

"Wait, don't leave. I apologise for my snide remarks. I spoke them in haste and do not mean it."

April gave him one last glare and grudgingly sat down again. "You do not know anything about us, remember that."

"I do. But I know what caused the cowboy to be on the edge." Nemo inclined his head knowingly as April stiffened. "As I believe you know too."

"And you didn't stop it?"

"I only found out after it had happened. It was also at the same moment I discovered the opportunity given to me."

Despite herself, April's curiosity was kindled. "What do you mean?"

"Saber was under the tight control of Black Ice. For five years, I searched for a way to break the control, unsuccessfully until Black Ice made the mistake of sending him to Tranquillity. He wanted Death to observe and learn. But something happened that Black Ice did not foresee and gave me an opening." Nemo gave April a meaningful look.

"Robin," April muttered the name softly.

Nemo nodded. "I believe the atrocity of Death's actions managed to reach the deepest part of his shattered psyche. It roused his, how should I put it, goodness again. Without his conscious knowing, Saber begun to fight back."

"And you know all these because...?"

"I observed Death as closely as I could after the massacre and discovered that he was frequently subtly manoeuvring himself into positions of great risk to his personal life. I doubt he consciously knew what he was doing and it certainly earned him the full loyalty and respect of his troops. But it was an aberrant change in his behaviour, one that began only after the massacre. Which led me to deepen my investigation and finally conclude that even though Black Ice had broken him, Saber was not completely gone. So I began to form my plans for his rescue."

"And it worked. We were so stunned and gratified to have him back again." April looked earnestly at Nemo. "Thank you for giving us our friend back."

"All my efforts will be for naught if we fail now. Though I'm convinced Black Ice does not have as much control over Death this time as he like to believe. Saber will return with us, one way or the other."

"I don't understand. Why are you so concerned about Saber? You're a Vapour-Beam; your people have no love for humans. And yet you spent so much time and effort to rescue a man you barely knew. Why?"

Nemo gave her a long contemplative look. "I suppose I can tell you. Saber asked once before but I never told him. But you...somehow I don't mind telling you."

"I'm honoured." April replied gravely, sensing the seriousness of his realisation.

"I'm doing this for vengeance and patriotism."

"What?"

"I loathe Black Ice and I love my people. When he took the throne, I realised that his ambitions will destroy us. So I swore to fight him. When he kidnapped Saber, I knew immediately he had unwittingly given me an opening for his downfall, so I took it."

"So Saber is merely a tool for you?" April couldn't help but feel vaguely disappointed.

"Tool? No, he is my best hope of destroying Black Ice."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

Nemo did not reply. Instead he turned back to his navigation console. "You should start preparing," he said quietly instead. "We will be making the jump soon."

Realising that Nemo had effectively ended their conversation, April rose and silently left the cockpit.

*      *      *

The Headquarters of Cavalry Command was in an uproar. Restrained and subdued, as befitted an experienced military force, but still nevertheless agitated. It had been some years since Admiral Eagle seen the Cavalry Command in such a state. Elise, his secretary, mirrored the tension in her own rigid stance and tightly controlled expression when she met him on the helipad on top of the building.

"Report," he ordered the moment he was out of the helicopter, followed by Senator Rider and Doctor McGregor.

"Five Yuma Border patrol ships sustained heavy damage while trying to stop the enemy ship from escaping. Two were destroyed. We have eighteen soldiers injured, critically or otherwise and eight dead. The moon watchtower also took a hit. Apparently the enemy ship retaliated when the watchtower opened fire as well but there were no casualties."

"And the media blackout?"

"It's still in place but our Media-and-PR centre being flooded with calls from the news sector. There is only so long we can keep silent about this incident, Admiral. A ship jumping dimensions, witnessed by so many people, is news impossible to keep quiet about. Commander Miles and his staff are running out of excuses. They want us to issue a statement to the press pronto."

"Tell him to keep stalling. We can't issue any statement until the Council has the meeting. What about the Council?"

"Everyone is convened at the emergency meeting, if not in person, then via satellite link. We have secured and encrypted all communication lines involved in the Council to prevent hacking. The Councilmen are demanding to know what is going on."

"They aren't going to like what I'm going to tell them." Eagle turned to his old friend. "Edward?"

Senator Rider gave Eagle a grim but resolute look. "I'm fine. I know what has to be done. But I want heads, especially that of CCI's Director."

"I understand. Doctor McGregor?"

"Ready as I can be," McGregor said nervously. In his hand, he clutched a thick folder of his research documents. This was his first time attending a Council meeting and it was an emergency meeting at that.

By this time, the elevator had reached their level. As they exited the elevator, they were greeted by the sombre visage of General Whitehawk.

"Admiral, Senator," he greeted.

They returned his greeting.

"General, Doctor McGregor. Doctor, General Whitehawk." Eagle quickly introduced. "Has the Ramrod unit left?"

"Yes." Whitehawk glanced at his comrade and friend. "The atmosphere in the meeting room is tense, Admiral. It's been a while since anyone called for an emergency Council meeting."

"They're just going to love what I'm going to tell them," Eagle replied dryly.

"When you do that, there's going to be an explosion inside," warned Whitehawk. "The shockwaves will burn a lot of people in the process."

"People are already being burn, General." Senator Rider replied in a terse voice. "We have to stop them."

"I understand, Senator. But please know this, there is a high possibility of your son being made the scapegoat. Even if April and the others get him back, his career and life would be ruined."

"Because someone must take the blame?" Senator Rider growled, agony tainting each word. "I'm a politician, General. I know how dirty the game is."

"It might not happen," Eagle told his old friend. "Not if we can cast the truth in a certain light. Saber is a victim and that's how we are going to relate it. If someone must take the blame, then I'll rather have it be the CCI Director – for the base's questionable security, his agents' equally questionable conduct and for keeping vital information about our enemy from the Council and the Cavalry Command. Those are heavy charges."

"Hope it works," Senator Rider muttered.

"We're here, gentlemen." Eagle took a deep breath as they marched up to the closed double doors. "Let's get down to business."

---