"You're late."

Miklo Braca waited for her in the street, with his hands dug deep inside his pockets. His bad mood only increased Chiana's mirth, and so she grinned at him as she walked out the door. He looked different. It wasn't the haircut, a short square cut which had almost turned as grey as hers, nor the familiar patch of hair underneath his bottom lip. His scar looked the same as ever, cutting deep through the constantly worrying wrinkles on his spotted forehead. No, what was different was that for the first time in nine years he actually looked like he was a man used to fieldwork. His deriding eyes looked her over in return, gliding across her new grey coat.

The way he looked, he seemed to be hiding an arsenal beneath his bulky black leather coat. Not exactly inconspicuous. His gloves barely fit into the pockets. She herself opted more for a native look. The soft grey wool had silver linings, and a large leather patch around her waist. It was slimming, but also managed to cover her from neck to toe without getting in her way. Her gun, comms and knife pressed against her body, so she knew exactly where to reach for them in a pinch.

"I see you're blending in with the natives," Braca said.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"No."

Braca had to keep up with her as she marched down the hill. The cold air stung their faces.

"I had the innkeeper arrange it for me, plus some other expenses."

She brushed some snow off her new coat. Braca sighed, knowing he'd get stuck with the bill.

"I've got the servant boy checking out all the local hardware shops for specific orders," Chiana resumed. "All I need now is to find some neutral ground."

She knew Crichton couldn't resist tinkering at his projects and gadgets, and to do so would require certain items. Items that could lead her straight to his door.

Braca grunted.

They spoke without making eye contact, each pretending the other wasn't really there.

"I don't know what that means," Braca said. "But when you're done, I want you to report back to me straight away."

Chiana scoffed at the very notion of Braca suggesting he was her boss. He rubbed his red dribbling nose with the back of his glove.

"Crichton's probably not even here," he continued. "This is the third time you've crossed us, Chiana. Scorpius won't be as forgiving this time."

"He will be," Chiana spoke, smiling when suddenly something swooped in to circle the town. Even though her good looks had gone, the black aircraft could still surf smoothly across the treetops, and fly as if the whole world was watching.

"Because he knows I'm right."

"But that's a Prowler!" Braca exclaimed, as he watched it touch down somewhere behind the woods. "Except there isn't a Command Carrier in range for several weeks! You're not seriously suggesting..."

"Yup, that's her. She knows I'm here."

Chiana trudged on. Wheels drove through the snow, of massive wagons carrying thick wooden logs towards even bigger factories. And they blocked the road. Men were shouting up ahead, wondering why they couldn't keep moving, and Chiana knew one of them must've got itself stuck in the snow.

"They're idiots. Everybody will be looking for a Prowler..."

"And yet they still haven't been caught yet. I mean, you never found them, did you?"

Braca seemed to mope. "Not for lack of trying."

"No, Scorpius definitely didn't try. I wonder why that is."

Finally the train of wagons moved, and they could see past them to the other side of the street, where rows and rows of stately stores stood, and narrow houses squeezed between them, windows stacked atop each other. Grand limestone staircases lead to each front door, adorned with flowers and thorns. Winter seemed to wrap everything, and while the snow lingered, time stood still.

Chiana checked her watch. A high pitched wind howled in the distance, just out of reach, as if ringing through a long metal tube. If ice had a voice it would sound like that.

"You said something about neutral ground?"

Chiana weighed her options before crossing the street.

Peering through the stained windows she could see a barber cutting a blonde woman's hair, and in the next, she saw an aroma bar where its many patrons readily enjoyed slurping hot air from shapely blue vases. Then a disgruntled man in a long brown coat and fur hat left the third building in a hurry, and as he left his house, he ran down his front steps and nearly slipped across a patch of ice. He nearly ran them over in his haste, but Chiana and Braca looked on, quietly amused.

"In here," Chiana said as they reached the fourth building. It was a small pet shop. They could hear the animals screech inside those doors.

Braca climbed the small stairs with both hands still stubbornly lodged inside his coat pockets. The birds screeched as they saw his face peering into the window, and something with lots of teeth barked at him from within a strong cage.

"You're a fool if you think I'm even going to set one foot inside this shop."

"Well, you're gonna."

And he did. Braca was easily swayed, she found, a natural follower, and loyal to a fault. It didn't surprise her he was only ever a captain for so short a while. The Peacekeepers are very careful in who they train to fight, and who they train to lead.

But right now the last thing she needed was to be followed around town by some stray dog. If Aeryn saw them standing together in the street she would turn around and leave, thinking there was something either horribly wrong, or that she had betrayed them to the Peacekeepers.

Both of which weren't completely wrong, or right for that matter. She still didn't quite understand how she had ended up in this crazy situation. One thing lead to another, and suddenly she was a fugitive no more. Now people ran away from her, if they were left alive long enough to remember. That was something to be proud of, in the long run, she reckoned. If only her brother could see her now.

The creaking door clanged into a tiny bell, announcing their entry into the shop. A young woman behind the counter presented a serviceable smile, while the creatures in the cages made their horrible noises.

"We need to use the back door, if that's all right with you," Chiana told her. The woman turned to call her manager, but by then they had already passed her by.

"You can't just go in there!" she cried after them, until she was silenced by Chiana actually opening the back door.

"You have a key?"

Chiana had picked the lock so quickly the girl hadn't even noticed. Braca smiled, thanked her with a curt nod, and followed Chiana into the back garden. Back into the cold.

"Was that really necessary?"

His constant complaining was getting on her nerves. She had to find a way to ditch him somehow, or lock him in a closet somewhere. So she quickened her pace. Climbed a fence.

"Hey, wait!"

The alleyway was empty; nothing but relentless brick reaching four stories into the sky. Chiana felt as if she was gliding through this shadow world. Snow crackled beneath her boots. When Braca was far enough behind her, she dropped all pretense and started running.

The ground was slippery. With every step she took she was putting her life at risk, and she didn't know where the alleyway would stop or where it would take her. Her heart beat to the rhythm of her pace. And she remembered the metronome, from when she was just a kid, as it stood on her teacher's desk, guiding their oral lessons, and their music in praise of the Nebari leaders, designed to give them pause and give them structure and discipline. She'd hated it, but her anger gave her focus, restrained her fear, let her scream and let her run, as buildings raced on by in a blur of bricks, until she reached the end.

Braca yelled at her as she crossed the street, as she bounded into the white world, and Chiana stopped, feeling the aim of a gun pointed at her back. Call it survival instinct. Maybe there was something of the visions left after all. But she stopped and froze on the other side of the street, just as the clock tower struck a fourth time.

From her vantage point, she was the only one to see him, standing in between two buildings and hidden in the shadow. She wanted to slap that smug smile off his face.

They were too far apart to hear anything said by either of them, and both too out of breath to try and utter anything. So they stood there, locked in a deadly stare, as Braca coiled his outstretched hands around his pulse pistol, heaving.

Then it happened, almost too fast for Braca to comprehend it, and massive wagons drove into the line of fire, a long line of heavy wheels burrowing uphill into the snow. Braca yelled in vain, seeing leather boots dash out of sight, but when he ran out into the street and the train had passed, she had gone.

Why she thought of that metronome then eluded her. More and more her mind drifted back to her childhood these days. But out of many places and planets she remembered to be covered in snow, Nebari Prime would be the one she would never forget, and always associate with it.

She used to love the snow. Now she wrapped her arms around herself and closed up her coat to keep out the cold, looking both ways as she crossed the street once more.

When Chiana entered the aroma bar, a cloud of musty smoke instantly assaulted her senses. There was no bell at the door here. Just a bearded man behind the bar, who kept a close eye on the young crowd passing the blue vase around their small circle of friends. There were stools, tapestries and other wooden furniture, which made Chiana think all the scented candles were a big mistake. Clearly a fire hazard. But it was a place of softness nonetheless.

There was a small fireplace, and a big kitchen for anyone with an appetite. The bearded man clearly expected her to order something, so she took a glance at the menu and ordered something she hoped would have meat on it. She hadn't eaten in days.

When Chiana turned her head to look around, she saw a woman sitting in the corner, her face partly obscured by the wooden pillar that stood between them, but she could've recognised that long black hair anywhere. She cautiously walked over and sat in the booth opposite her.

Aeryn showed slight crow's feet as she narrowed her eyes, leaning over to check the door behind her.

"You're late."

"Yeah, sorry about that."