Disclaimer: I don't own Storm Hawks, the Deltora books, or any other names or references to copyrighted properties.

Reminder about racial appearance-

Varon-Varons look like raptors from Storm Hawks, but with ears like a cat and hair like a human.

Kerion-tall and have fur of many shades. Have the heads of cats, tails, and long narrow ears. Also has hair like a human.

Rahkshi-humanoid in all appearances save for having scales of many colors, the heads of snakes and ears of cats. Have four fingered hands with thick gray claws and three toed clawed feet. Have hair both long and short like a human.

PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING-New race in this chapter:

Felisar-heads and faces of cats, varying fur, humanlike hands and feet, tails, long of short hair.

Fearon's POV

I've never been a good liar or actor. That's why it scared me when I slipped back into my other mindset, even for a moment-the one I had gained in my desperation in the aftermath of my abandonment.

I stood in the hangar with our skimmers and a large amount of other stuff, most of it tools or spare parts. The walls and roof were streaked with black, like a stick of charcoal had been dragged over it. There were spots warped into whorls and dribbles of hardened metal drips, like the spots had been partway through the process of melting. A row of rectangular overhead lights ran from the back of the room to the front. In some spots wiring poked through the old plating, so battered from age it looked partially mangled. The walls had the distinctive rails known as 'crash rails,' sticking out at waist height- a trait that most new ships had abandoned using. Their name strongly hinted what their purpose was.

Our rides were lined up as neatly as possible in the narrow hangar-my red Air Skimmer, Lehvahk's green one, Rahk's modified scarlet Switchblade Elite, Takar's wiry, patched skimmer, and Somra's blue Slip Wing.

The last thing on my mind was the skimmers or hanger, though. I found myself pacing the space instead, feeling tense and uncomfortably warm as I became more and more nervous.

"Okay," I tried for the tenth time in the last few minutes to think of a response to the question that had a good chance of never being asked, but I felt better by preparing for this. It was the only way I could think of to vent the nervous buildup in my mind and body. "I know I did some things, but I was angry and desperate so-think you could-argh!"

I slammed a fist into the wall. The already contoured plating groaned as if in protest. Ignoring the noise, I continued to stand there and steadfastly curse myself.

"Damn it! Why can't they just forget the past already?"

I stopped suddenly, letting out a long breath and feeling a slight sting in my eyes. Hastily I blinked and suppressed it. How can I expect the Council to forget my criminal record? I can't forget it myself!"

Apparently thinking about the Council revealing my past to my friends wasn't the best thing to do. I worried obsessively over what they would say and think of me if they ever found out-one of the reasons I kept the secret caged tightly within me. I'd never been sure if it was a good thing to do, or if the secret was bogging me down instead and slowly strangling me.

Wearily I leaned against the wall and braced one hand on the crash rail, closing my eyes. Images flashed through my mind in rapid succession-robberies, street fights, sabotage tasks, all blurring messily together and angering me with their strength. I didn't want them to be so strong in my mind. The memories hadn't faded a bit-if anything, the more I worried over my past, the stronger my memories of it seemed to become.

It was a problem, I was fairly certain of that. Maybe a mental one, or one produced by childhood trauma. I'd never been able to figure it out. I was considering taking my anger out on the wall some more, as damaging as it would be to my fists, when footsteps behind me interrupted my former intentions. A faint dusty smell, like desert sand, heralded Somra's approach.

I only went to speak after collecting myself. Then I turned to face her, slowly dropping my hand from the wall. I only now registered a dull ache in my jaw, and wondered vaguely were it had come from.

"Everyone's ready?" I asked. I was careful to keep my voice level and a little upbeat, but Somra's brow furrowed. She may have heard the faint tremor underlying my voice.

I had known Somra the longest out of all of the squadron, and we had been trained under the same mentor prior me going to the Academy. I had often felt ridiculously happy to see her. I wasn't certain if it was the beginnings of love. Even if they were, I didn't have the courage to act on it. The feelings usually made me steel my resolve to keep my past a secret.

Somra didn't inquire on the uncertainty she picked up, maybe thinking she had imagined it. That or she decided i was just nervous. Instead she just answered plainly and simply, although her eyes didn't leave mine. "Yeah. The others are right behind me."

As if on que, the sounds of more feet were heard. I recognized Takar's heavy boots on the metal floors, and Lehvahk and Rahk's lighter steps. Scout's dainty gait could be heard approaching first, and the visorak rocketed through the door that slid open to admit him. He was shortly followed by the others, Lehvahk lurching through second in hurry. He seemed to be in the middle of some kind of apology.

"C'mon, Scout. I'm sorry for waking you up from your nap-"

Scout just shot him a surly glance.

"But if you kept sleeping, you'll miss the big day."

Scout's expression changed to thoughtfulness. Then he squawked in agreement and dashed back to Lehvahk's side, and the two high fived. "Let's go do this!" Lehvahk announced exuberantly, Scout grinning and puffing his chest out in agreement.

Rahk looked at them both with mock exaggeration. "You two are such a pair of idiots."

"Hey, sometimes that's good," Lehvahk shot back, throwing his arms out wide like a stage master presenting his star attraction. "The world wouldn't get anywhere without us."

"It wouldn't have veered into the clutches of damnation several times, for one," Takar responded icily, already on his brown patchwork skimmer.

"I disagree!" Lehvahk replied. "We've provided plenty of good things the world couldn't have gone without."

"Oh really?" Somra snorted. "What could it have gone without that you could provide?"

"Humor," lehvahk answered back.

"So no one else can be funny but you?" I asked jokingly as we began to mount our skimmers.

"No, it just means I'm funnier than the rest of you bastards," Lehavhk replied, Scout nodding in agreement from his perch on the back of Lehvahk's skimmer, holding onto the tops of the vehicle's two converters

"Keep thinking that, Lehvahk," Somra replied caustically. "You need to have some kind of damn talent, after all."

"Hey, I have more talents than just shooting!"

Somra stuck her tongue out at him, and I couldn't resist laughing along with Rahk. Then Somra revved her blue Slip Wing and shot out of the hanger, her midnight blue scales flashing in the sun and leaving the faint smell of burnt rubber.

"Oh no you don't!" Lehavhk howled after her. His green air skimmer shot forward, and me and Rahk instantly followed. I heard the scratchy roar of Takar's ride as he followed as well, muttering something about braindead sharpshooters.

Somra's POV

I so enjoyed ticking Lehvahk off. It was funny to see his face turn red with embarrassment.

Laughing, I let my ride race down the street. Marvaka's buildings, battered by centuries of salty sea air, storms, and tides, became a blur of brown and white. The air smelled of sweet swamp flowers and sea salt-the comforting smell I had grown up with all my life. I hadn't lived in Marvaka forever, as homely as the island capital was. But I had lived on the island itself, and it never ceased to make me happy.

Although, now I had two places that felt like home-the Strikeflier, our hardy, brave carrier ship, and Kylan Isle. I wouldn't want to lose either. Both meant so much to me they felt like family-the island from being my childhood home, and the Strikeflier as the home of the people whom I had bonded with and envisioned our collective future with.

Some I had bonded with more than others, maybe, particularly Fearon. A niggling warmth in my chest seemed present around him, but I had never been brave enough to explore what I suspected was love. That emotion had always been something I had a hard time understanding-it clashed with my personality, I suppose.

I turned sharply around a corner, the tire grips easily keeping the Slip Wing steady. Then I went on. I knew the others we following me, since I could faintly hear their rides behind me. But by now, I saw this as a race, and I didn't want it to be beat.

The Council building was in sight soon enough. In the centuries when Sky knights had spread beyond Atmos, it had stayed the City Hall, but in addition became the Deltoran Sky Knight Council's place of official business too.

It was a impressive sight. Old as the city, it was made of rough hewn, pale gray stone and wooden beams of reddish wood from the local Ironbark swamp trees. The lower part of the building was thirty feet high, and a group of four slender spires rose a good twenty feet more. Rows of ornate minarets made to resemble the serpentine head and necks of dragons curved upward into the sky. Made of burnished silver, they shone brightly in the early morning sunlight. A pair of banners hung on either side of the huge doors, bearing Deltora's continental insignia-a star like a compass rose, crossed with spears pointing diagonally in four directions. I always felt a touch of pride when I looked at the symbol, and I saw more often than one would think-mainly due to the Strikeflier having metal outlines of it nailed onto the walls on both sides of the bridge door.

I got a minute or so and used it well-I briefly and respectfully admired the structure that was Marvaka's City Hall/Deltora's Council building. Then I leaned against a old, stooping tree in front of it next to my skimmer, preparing to gloat. The tree's leaves were sparse and dry, scorched by the hot summer sun.

As it happened, it wasn't Lehavhk who arrived first, but Fearon instead. He stopped his red Air Skimmer before me and a brief spray of grit showered on my feet. I rolled my eyes at Fearon, and he shrugged apologetically. I gave him a forgiving smile in return. Rahk arrived next, tailed by Lehvahk. The scarlet Switchblade Elite turned heads, but not quite out of fear, more out of interest. The skimmer had been modified by Takar and Scout to be quieter, lighter, and much less fuel consuming than the original design. They hadn't removed the distinctive wing blades, though-none of us had wanted to. They just looked too neat.

Lehavhk was tailing him closely, Scout urging him on with wild churrs and screeches. Takar was a few feet behind. Our pilot looked unconcerned, even bored-he probably hadn't bothered to try and get ahead, even though his skimmer was fully capable of going faster.

They all stopped short by the tree. Scout was nearly flung off by Lehvahk's abrupt halt, and he screeched in irritation. Lehvahk ignored that and glared at Fearon, then at me. "Oh, come on! I should have at least gotten second place."

"You probably made some kind of mistake that cost you," I snorted. "Fearon's a better racer than you are, anyway."

"Then why the hell didn't he beat you?"

"Because it wasn't a race until a few minutes in," Fearon responded, regarding Lehvahk with a amused grin. "And Somra got herself a head start."

Lehavhk groaned. I stuck my tongue out at him a second time, prompting Rahk to shake his head, probably wondering how he put up with our crazed squadron. Takar just maintained a blank look.

"Alright, we've had enough fooling around," Fearon spoke tersely, voice tight with excitement and maybe a bit of nervousness, although there was a emotion present that I couldn't identify. "Let's do this."

Fearon's POV

Nothing had ever seemed more menacing to me than the City Hall right now. I felt like it had become much hotter out than it already was. The rest of the city seemed to fade out, leaving only the impressive stone and wood building in sharp detail.

Knowing I was expected to lead the way in, I walked slowly up the steps. The cool slate felt good against my currently warm skin. I could hear the others follow, but out of a unspoken instinct made my steps silent with hardly any effort.

The doors where a whole other challenge. They seemed almost as intimidating as the gates of hell, made more so by the knowledge that a position as a Sky Knight could be denied to me. I grasped the cold silver handle, then pulled.

The wooden oak doors swung open with a slight creak. The noise was hardly loud, but rang through the vast space beyond easily.

The roof arched thirty feet, maybe thirty five feet high. Wooden rafters slanted diagonal from the floor up to the roof, intersecting with one another in the middle and making a series of triangle arches we would need to walk through. Rich red and green light filtered in bright beams through the stain glass windows, dappling the floor with a mesmerizing mix of both colors.

I realized I was staring when someone poked me in the shoulder. "We aren't here to sightsee, remember?"

I felt a slight flood of embarrassment at Somra's statement, and could only hope none of it had shown in my expression. "Right. Sorry."

"You'd better be," Somra muttered as I started walking again.

Now that the structure of the hall had been digested, the furniture was the next thing we saw. Mostly it was orderly rows of chipped wooden desks and sparsely padded chairs that looked as old as the City Hall itself. The main centerpiece was a slightly raised platform at the back of the hall. On it was a larger desk that looked newer than the others, but still carrying signs of mistreatment over the centuries.

A single person sat there, leaned over a thick book and tapping the end of a pen against the desk surface. A felisar, from the looks of it, with ash gray fur, and gray hair streaked with white. I wasn't sure of his age-it was tricky with the felisar race's long lifespan. This one could be forty or seventy, and I couldn't tell the difference.

I stopped before the raised platform. Out of a silent, instinctual command, my friends stopped too.

The felisar kept tapping the desk. Then he let out a murmur, wrote something and began tapping again.

We stood there for another few seconds. I was just starting to step onto the platform to make our presence known when we were finally addressed. "Halt. I am aware of you. I am the head of the Council. Talsain, you may call me. Now state your business."

The words weren't spoken unkindly, but there was a hint of steel in them that made me instantly reverse my action.

"We're here to be registered as a squadron," I answered, carefully studying the pronounced facial features of Talsain, waiting for some sign of response. I was given one when the Head of the Council closed the book, pushed it aside, and put another book in it's place. Then he looked up, tossing the pen idly in one hand.

Almost immediately his eyes seemed to pierce my mental barriers and reveal all to him, almost as if the felisar were physic. I felt like those eyes were studying my emotions and memories now, and I could envision them reflecting in Talsain's pale blue eyes. I expected anything besides what actually happened next.

"Not a soul with a easy path, are you? But then, the Redskye family has always been blessed with survivors in their line. At least up until the Dark Ages." Talsain smiled, a expression foreign were I had expected disgust. His eyes were somewhat wary, like he didn't know what to make of me, but they contained hints of respect too. "I've heard of your father. Quite a legacy to live up to."

Slightly stunned, I was just able to form a competent response before I looked like a fool. "Yes."

Talsain nodded. "But I don't know your name." He opened the book before him and flipped through the pages before stopping halfway through. "But I'll need to know you and our friend's names if I want to put you in this book."

"Right," I steadily replied, now back in control of emotions and thought process. "Fearon Redskye. Leader and Sky Knight."

Talsain scribbled it down. He looked at me one more time with his penetrating gaze, slowly nodding. I thought I could see him smiling slightly, even as he turned his attention on the next in line.

Somra straightened when he looked at her, defiantly meeting his eyes with her own red eyes glare. Daring him to give her the look Talsain had given me, maybe.

"Somra Kyln, weapons specialist and explosives expert," she said strongly, still keeping up the staring contest.

Talsain stared back with an eyebrow raised. For a moment they kept at it, and I started to wonder if they would have a staring contest here and now. Then Talsain scribbled down Somra's info and looked at Takar.

Our pilot had been standing with his arms crossed over his chest, staring nonchalantly into space. When Talsain first looked at him Takar snapped back into reality and glowered at him, maybe for interrupting a daydream.

We never found out. Unfazed by Takar's dismal and moody attitude, Talsain professionally carried on. Despite that, his eyes lingered on Takar with a intrigue.

"Name and position."

The words couldn't have been more clear, but Takar hesitated. His eyes flicked nervously form side to side almost like a hunted animal. They bore a skittish look I had seen very rarely-only when Takar shied away from any conversation about his childhood.

"First and last name?"

His hoarse voice drew immediate attention. We all gave him confused looks, thinking that he sounded miserable, when before he hadn't been close to it.

"Yes," Talsain replied. He had maintained his current position, but curiosity was stronger than ever in his eyes now. "Why do you not like that?"

Takar gnawed on his lip. "I don't like my last name. It reminds me of things."

His voice seemed to have taken on a hint of anger, but like before Talsain showed no reaction. "You only need to say it once."

Takar hunched his shoulders, mouth pressed into a flat line and looking at the floor. "Takar Byreflame. Carrier pilot."

The words were spoken in a low, grudging murmur, but Talsain seemed to hear them just fine. He wrote down the words spoken to him and then stretched with a feline grace, tilting his head and letting the pensive gaze of his wander over to Rahk.

Self consciously Rahk shuffled in place, but still managed to keep a respectful image. I knew the reason behind his sensitivity-Rahk was part dragon and part Blizzarian, and what most would carelessly call half-breed. It was considered a demeaning term, adopted crudely to describe beings with parents of different races. Rahk had faced prejudice several times. Knowing what that was like from being judged by my criminal record, I had often stepped in to defend him.

"Rahk Triddar, crystal specialist and navigator."

Like with me, Talsain didn't look judgmental. He looked more like he had with Takar-intrigued, but not quite as much as with our pilot. "You have the bearing of someone for that position," he commented kindly, scratching in the book with his pen again.

Rahk blinked, clearly not knowing what to think of the kind words. Rather than choosing to speak, he opted to remain silent. Probably a good idea-better than wanting to say something, then making a fool of yourself.

Last but not least, Talsain addressed Lehavhk. He had been staring at the Head for the Council the entire time with a look of concentration. I should have realized this wasn't a good thing.

"How old are you?" Lehavhk asked bluntly, immune to the glares from the rest of us. For all we knew, the comment could lose us the registration.

Surprisingly and much to my relief, that didn't happen. Instead Talsain answered in a calm, measured tone, and I felt the knot of tension in my shoulders unwind. "Eighty. For a felisar, just past middle aged. Now, why don't you tell me your name and position, eager young one?"

Lehavhk blinked at the term 'young one,' but accepted it graciously and laid a fist on his chest in salute. "Lehvahk Tranen, sharpshooter and scout, sir."

Somra covered her mouth with her hand to keep from sniggering at Lehvahk's ridiculous salute. I couldn't keep a brief smile of amusement from my face. Rahk glanced at Lehvahk and raised his eyes to roof as if praying to the gods, maybe for them to knock some real respect into our teammate. Takar just stared straight ahead, jaw set stiffly. He seemed to be determined to ignore the world, for whatever strange reason he had.

Talsain nodded and wrote the name. Then he peered quizzically at Scout. "And him?" he asked quietly.

"Scout," I answered. "He's our mechanic."

Talsain's eyebrows shot up, and Scout drew himself up proudly, glaring at Talsain as if daring him to laugh. The middle aged felisar didn't, instead writing down Scout's info. Then he leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers. The penetrating gaze was back, along with the curiosity. "And the name of the squadron."

I felt my friend's expectant gazes on me. Obeying the unspoken prompt, I answered swiftly and surely. "Lycanthropes."

Talsain slowly leaned forward and wrote the name down. As he did, a comment slipped out. "Odd, naming yourselves after werewolves."

"It fits," I responded. "We'll be loners anyway-I'm right to assume nowhere needs a stationed squadron right?"

A strange smile lit Talsain's pale blue eyes. "Indeed. You are intelligent for your age, young Redskye. I feel I can expect great things from you."

Lehvahk's POV

The second we left the building, I erupted into a joyous warble.

I felt more happy than I'd ever been, like I'd been zapped by a lightning serpent. But instead of hurting, it felt invigorating, and I drew on it with eagerness.

Once outside I performed a flip, whooped, and landed in a kneeling stance with both hands thrown wide. Ignoring the peculiar glances shot at me, I shouted freely to the sky. "Get ready, Amihawk, here we come!"

"As if the whole world wants you around," Somra tried to sound scornful of my display, but I could see differently when she came up beside me. She was grinning so wide nearly all of her teeth were visible. The only time I had ever seen her this happy before was when she had won a sweepstakes for twenty cans of beer. She didn't admit it, but she had alcoholic tendencies. Rahkshi tended to never suffer any visible effects from it, but were subject to the mental. Takar actively suspected that Somra drank a can of the stuff at least once every two days.

Fearon was smiling, but his eyes looked full of turbulent emotions. When I opened my mouth to ask, he shot me a sharp look from narrowed eyes, and I stopped. Fearon rarely tried to look frightening around us, but in that instant he had looked fairly predatory. I knew it would be best to shut up-something I never usually did, with sparse exceptions.

"Well, what now?"

Leave it to Takar the ever pessimistic to bring the mood down.

Fearon's expression turned thoughtful. He looked absentmindedly to the sky, running his hand through his hair. "Hm. I'm not sure. I guess we celebrate, but we need a vote."

"A vote, huh?" Rahk muttered. "Are you sure we can agree on anything?"

"Yeah, I think we can. We suggest places, and we vote," Fearon said simply. "I suggest we go back to to the ship and have a pizza feast."

Somra tilted her head. "Or we could go to a bar." She grinned like a wolf. "Free drink."

"Any other suggestions?" Takar asked uneasily. "I hate crowds. Especially drunken ones."

"And preferably suggestions that don't allow Somra to get a hangover," I added helpfully. She scowled at me. "Shut up," she growled.

Scout squawked a agreement. He was probably my best friend in the group, despite working with Takar quite a lot due to his position as mechanic.

Somra's gaze now felt like a swarm of bees was stinging me, it was so intense. It's funny how she doesn't give anyone else that look. But it was pretty much true. Somra was normally a smart aleck and had a hell of a temper. We didn't need that fueled by alcohol.

"All for pizza?" Rahk said loudly, trying to be the mediator. He raised his hand. The rest of us did too. Somra's hand went up grudgingly, although she was still staring bloody murder at me.

"I'm gonna kick your sorry ass," she hissed, very much snakelike.

I shot her a cocky grin in response. She snorted. "Alright, crack boy. You're on."

An hour later, we were back on the Strikeflier again. I was given the honor of carrying the two pizza boxes, and I did so like a waiter, balancing one on each hand. I did end up dropping one, so the pizza was upside down when we opened the box. Being the pizza lovers and inept cooks we all were, though, it didn't make a difference. We tore into it like a group of starving animals, and both pizzas were gone in a matter of minutes. Manners were something we typically threw out the window aboard the Strikeflier, since no one cared about them.

It came down to only one slice left in the box, and me and Somra, ever the feuding pair, had a staring contest over it. We were both wondering who would grab for it first. Even Takar, who normally showed no interest in these things, craned his head to peer at us. He might have chosen to be part of the ring of spectators at the prospect of Somra beating me to a pulp, though, since he didn't like me any more than she did.

"It has come to this," Fearon announced. He sounded like he was trying but failing to be serious, with a smile tugging at his lips and a hint of laughter in his tone. "The last piece. Who will claim it?"

"It shall be me," Somra said in a sarcastic overly dramatic voice, spreading her arms. "I am the worthy one."

I hawked into my water glass and placed it right in front of her. "Wrong. It be me."

Somra snarled, showing her vicious fangs and shoving my glass away. My saliva wobbled and spread on the surface of the shallow water within. "We'll see."

I lunged. She lunged. The others crowed and shouted encouragement, and my furred hand nearly reached the pizza before Somra's scaled and clawed hand latched onto my wrist, yanking my arm upwards. Her other hand flashed toward the food, but I knocked it away and leaned further across the table, shoving at her with my forearm. I tried to bite the pizza, but Somra grabbed my jaw and held it closed. I splatted my palm against her cheek, shoving her gaze away from the slice. Our free hands groped and grappled, until finally I snagged the pizza slice. Somra grabbed at me, and I jumped up and leaned backward.

I did so a little too much. I went toppling onto my back behind the Strikeflier's sparsely padded bridge couch. I stuffed the pizza into my mouth, and Somra's footsteps came pounding toward me. The amused faces of the others hovered in the air as I covered my mouth with my hands, chewing and swallowing the last of the food as Somra tried to pull my fingers away.

She managed a minute later but it was too late. I lay splayed on the metal floor and laughed.

"Ha, gotcha!"

At first, Somra glared murderously. A tense silence hung about, and I didn't want a repeat of the waffle incident from this morning. Then her glare eased. "You sure are damn good at fighting for your food."

The bridge erupted into laughter, the group of us cackling like a pack of hyenas. In my eyes, the perfect ending to the night.

Somra's POV

There were times when I wanted to strangle Lehvahk. Or I could decide on the less disruptive path, playing with my marbles.

It had annoyed me a lot more than I wanted to admit that he had gotten that pizza slice first, especially after having the nerve to eat part of my breakfast. But I figured I would let him of the hook for the night, if only because it was special and I didn't want to risk messing it up. Otherwise, I would have been planning a revenge scheme to use on him right now.

I prowled down the Strikeflier's old metal hallway, the smell of the stained old pipes and the rags we tied them with pricking at my nose. Where Lehvahk was openly scornful about the Strikeflier's age, I personally saw her as Takar did, a loyal old ship that could haul us through anything. Although I didn't see the ship as a true love, witch Takar was definitely guilty of, no matter how much he sometimes flew into a rage about one of our carrier's many glitches. I just thought it was neat that we had this ship, a veteran warrior practically, at our side.

I entered my room with hardly any noise, just the faint rap of my clawed feet on the floor. I flicked the light on and revealed my personal haven on the ship.

All of the rooms on the Strikeflier were generally ten feet wide. In my case, that ten foot wide space was occupied by my bed, my desk, and a chipped and beaten up dresser. All furniture was bolted to the floor, so that during turbulent flights (or battle scenarios. I was wondering when we would come across those, come to think of it,) wouldn't send said heavy objects flying everywhere. The only thing on my wall was the secure rack I had erected for my spear. I had modified and sharpened it into a wonderfully sharp weapon, and I prided myself vastly on making it into a wicked pain bringer.

I kept the drawers of my desk bolted so that my small multitude of personal items didn't get lost, or poked at by curious squad members, like a certain blue eyed Blizzarian whose name starts with L. The top of the desk was covered with my hobby, stuff that I had been doing yesterday night but hadn't bothered to put away.

A few swords and daggers lay there, all basically rusted weaponry that I was working on fixing. Working to make dull things sharp is my favorite hobby, although I don't know why. It was just very pleasant to see them gleam again, and cut the test materials I brought like butter.

Explosives were there too. Weapons specialist regarded weapons, and bombs were, indeed, weapons. Furthermore, I had just the right personality to work with them. At times it was just fun to see things go boom.

Normally I would have these things in my largest desk drawer, that I'd divided in half. One side was for the blades, but the other side was padded so that the bombs would stay as still as possible in case my experiments blew up.

I like blowing stuff up when it isn't my stuff. Or something else on the ship that was important.

There had been one time I couldn't resist a little fun and put a tiny bead shaped bomb in Lehvahk's drink. It had gone off without a sound and sprayed a gout of milk into his face the minute he picked it up. I'd laughed like a maniac.

See, that was what would normally be waiting for him the next day. Tomorrow that train of thought would be long gone, though, and I could begin to think on how I would get him back. But for now, my private therapeutic method was needed.

I carefully removed my bag of marbles from one of my drawers. Inside was an assortment of marbles. Some gleamed rainbow colors like oil on pavement. Others were black or green with swirls of other colors. Some were silver or clear, with colored specks, and four were bigger than the rest.

I knelt on the floor and gently poured the marbles out. They made sharp skittering noises on the point of impact, but before they could all separate I made walls with my arms. They rolled and plinked about, trapped by me. I herded them against one of the corners of my room and used my arm again, this time to trap the little glass balls in a triangular shaped space. Then I began to push them around with my free hand, watching as they caused those around them to move forward, or back or sideways across the slightly corrugated metal floor. The bigger ones were the best to watch, because they would roll right through rows of the little ones like they were nothing.

I wasn't sure why I found this so comforting. It might have been because the marbles reminded my of the flow of life. One little thing could change life's course, drastically or hardly at all. One huge disaster, like the big marbles scattering the small ones, could completely uproot your reality. Or it could happen the other way around, and cause good instead of bad.

I smiled to myself at that thought and continued my little therapeutic game.

Fearon's POV

I breathed in the familiar smell of Kylan Isle. Bracing my hands on the nicked rail of the observation deck, I gazed for a few quiet moments over the bay. The reflections of the moon and stars wavered on the surface, creating a entrancing spectacle of lights.

Heaving a large sigh, I allowed myself to fall back against the slanting window of the Strikeflier. The thick glass of ancient carrier's windows was cool and solid, four inches thick. Perfect support for someone who wanted something to lean on.

I slid down the smooth surface until I was sitting on the observation deck with my legs crossed. I completely relaxed my back muscles and let the cool glass support me, idly fingering my loose shirt collar. Then my wandering fingers found their way to my collarbone, where they found the faintly raised white line of a old scar. It ran from my collarbone down the middle of my stomach, ending just before the hip. The injury had been the result of a failed attempt to fight the crime leader I had once worked for.

The others had seen it before, but I'd always avoided their questions about were the scar had come from. The first reason was due to his reluctance to remember the searing pain, and my near death. The other reason was obvious.

I shouldn't be thinking about this. I shook my head impatiently, letting my hand drop back onto the deck beside me. I tilted my head back and gazed at the stars, some eclipsed by the curve of the Strikeflier's overhang.

A official Sky Knight. Like my father. Even though I knew I had no way of knowing what my father was thinking now, I wished he did.

"I'm going to make up for everything," I muttered, thinking aloud. "I'm never becoming what I was again. I'll make you proud."

I'll prove to the Council and the other Sky Knights that I've risen above my past.

I meant it with every fiber of my being. I wanted them all to see-see that I'm Kybron Redskye's son. Even more than that, I just wanted to be seen as a true Sky Knight, equal to them, and escape their contempt.

The creak of hinges sounded, along with smooth, swift footsteps. I jerked my head to the left in surprise, and was greeted by the sight of Takar. He was still fully clothed, leaning causally on both hands against the observation railing as if he had been there all night, facing away from me.

"Make who proud?" Takar asked flatly. His dark brown hair looked nearly black in the night. Since it went down to his shoulder and he had his back to me, I couldn't see his eyes. "Or are you talking to ghosts?"

There was a bitter sarcastic tone in his words, but I chose to ignore it. I knew Takar wasn't speaking that way for his own amusement, either, as his mouth was set in a firm line. It was practically the norm - so far, Takar had yet to talk without some trace of bitterness in the depths of his voice.

No member of the squadron had been able to figure out were Takar's temperamental and defensive attitude had come from. He clammed up whenever questioned about it, like I myself did whenever I was asked a personal question that I didn't want to answer. The difference was that I would usually find a distraction or subtle way to switch topics. Takar simply flat out refused to answer any questions, keeping completely silent. After a few minutes of waiting, things usually moved on and left the conversation behind.

What I was currently wondering was why Takar had chosen to come out onto the deck only a few minutes after I had. It was almost as if he had been watching.

"Where you sitting in the bridge before?"

The corner of Takar's mouth twitched. "Yeah. What else would I be doing?"

Answer a question and then retaliate with another. Smart. "Sleeping, maybe? Or spending some time in your room?"

"You aren't doing any of those," Takar replied tensely. He gripped the deck rail with extra vigor. "What's your excuse?"

I shrugged. "I'm only out here to..."

I trailed off without meaning to. Why exactly had I come here? I could have pondered today's occurrences anywhere- my room, even the hanger bay. Why the observation deck?

Then I found his answer. "I was looking at the stars. I guess because I like to feel a connection with my parents, when I feel...uncertain."

"They're dead," Takar said flatly.

"Yeah."

"But you have fond memories of them?

"Yes."

"That must be nice," Takar muttered. His lips twisted into a bitter grimace as he seemed to recall some unpleasant memory. "To have parents who actually loved you."

I crossed my arms over my chest and studied Takar with narrowed eyes. His words were soaked in volatile hate, the joyless smile making me even more curious. Maybe I was getting somewhere with the secretive kerion. "What were they like?"

Instantly Takar stood bolt upright. I couldn't see his face, but Takar's reaction seemed shocked and slightly panicked.

Takar's POV

Damn it, I thought, gritting my teeth slightly. How could I have let that slip?

The answer came to me unbidden. Because I've been hiding my past so long – and Fearon has too. We're alike that way. Maybe in more ways than that.

A few moments of silence transpired next. Fearon and I locked gazes during those few moments. Fearon's look asked - why do you hate your parents? What happened to you before we met?

My look sent a single stony message- I'm not telling.

Fearon ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he used frequently when uncertain. At the same time he slowly rose onto both feet again. Dropping his hand to his side, Fearon began to walk past me to the door back into the bridge. He stopped briefly, looking over his shoulder at me. I was still standing there, my hands locked in a death grip around the rail. "You could tell us. It might help."

"Same with you, Fearon," I replied, still not changing my position. My face and tone was carefully blank of any hint of emotion, but inwardly any number of them was roiling around in a turbulent mess. "You're keeping your past a secret too. When you spill your secret...I'll do the same."

Fearon's POV

My mind full of unrest and new questions, I strode rapidly down the hallway, trying to clear my mind by expending energy. The conversation hadn't left me with any consolation. If anything, it had done the opposite.

I entered my room and changed into a loose shirt and pants, then threw myself onto the bed. I lay still for a little while, trying to steady my breathing.

My room's fairly blank. Just a narrow desk where I left my armor, sword and dagger. And strewn about clothes. Barely anything to look at. The only keepsake from my dad was my sword. I didn't have anything else.

It took a while, but I eventually drifted off into sleep, wondering vaguely about our future. What battles would we fight as freelancers? What enemies and allies would we make?

I fell asleep with the last question hovering in mind like a persistent fog.

Takar's POV

After Fearon left, I stayed on the deck for a few minutes longer, attempting-nd largely failing-to clear my head. I gave it up as a lost cause and went back inside, carelessly letting the creaky door bang shut behind me. At this point, I was too distracted and maybe frustrated to care.

After throwing on my pajama pants and my linen robe, I rolled onto the bed in my blueprint covered room and tried to relax.

I didn't want to be victim of my insomnia tonight. It happened too much. I just wanted a peaceful sleep.

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