He drank his coffee slowly, watching her over the rim. She still had that easy way about her, casting about in his cupboards, sniffing the contents of the containers on his counter. He watched the play of the light across her cheekbones and lips. "Do you never eat anything besides concentrates?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

He pulled himself out of his reverie and shook his head, causing the new chain around his neck to sway. Another thing that had appeared out of one of her many pockets last night. On the end was a small plastic container, inside which she had enclosed his tracking device. Never go anywhere without it, she had warned him, unless you can sneak out without them knowing you're gone.

"There's coffee," he said.

"You're running low."

He cast a glance at the full canister open beside the coffee maker, but decided not to say anything. He was becoming accustomed to the thought of people listening to their conversations, and that she had reasons to lie to them, although this acceptance brought with it a flush of remembrance about the previous night. Instead he took another hot swallow and offered his own mug to her. She shook her head, but came closer, clasping her arms around his towel-wrapped hips.

"All your food is drugged," she breathed into his ear, before kissing him lightly. His cup dropped to his chest, still warm enough to be uncomfortable. He set the mug down on the counter.

"Will I see you again tonight?" she asked, louder.

"If you'd like."

She laughed at him for that, running her fingers up his back in a way she already knew sent his head spinning. "And you? Would you like?"

"I would, yes."

"Well then, better get dressed. The sooner to work, the sooner back."

He stepped away, disappointed, but with a smile. "Taskmaster," he muttered, turned to go and retrieve a few articles of ubiquitously grey clothing from his bedroom floor.

"Chevron?"

"Yes?"

"Perhaps after work we could stop somewhere for something to eat before coming back here." She gestured helplessly at his empty cupboards. He removed his towel with a flourish and at threw it at her.


The temperature in the domes never changed. A constant state just below body temperature kept everyone comfortably clothed without having to waste materials on extra layers. The Citizenry was reminded often that this was also the optimal working temperature.

Chevron was therefore surprised at the chill that ran through him when he caught sight of the man waiting on the other side of the street when he stepped out of his apartment building with Aza at his side. Aza, for her part gave a low groan. She had his bloody sheets tucked under her arm, for disposal along the way.

The man wasted no time in coming over to them as soon as they emerged, even going so far as to knock his way past a few scurrying pedestrians without even an apologetic glance. He stopped within a few feet of the couple, and Chevron could instantly see his resemblance to the woman at his side. Tagg put out his hand in Chevron's direction. It reminded Chevron suddenly of a bear trap, about to snap closed.

"Chevron," Aza said, "this is Tagg Flynn, my brother. Tagg, this is Chevron. First name on file."

Chevron took a breath and grasped the offered hand, wincing at the crushing grip.

"I am an explosives expert," Tagg told him.

Chevron winced again. "Of course you are."

Aza looped her arm around Tagg's and dragged him away from Chevron, causing him to have to release his grip, and steering him down the path towards the main road, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure Chevron was following.

"It was so kind of you, darling, to come walk me to work," she started, but then noticed that Tagg was grinding his teeth so loudly that she feared they might shatter at any moment.

They managed to get a few feet down the street before it became to much for him and he threw her hand off.

"Did you have to stay all night?!"

"It was the most inconspicuous way I could think of to get it done."

"But all night, Aza?! With him?"

"I'm hardly a threat, if that's what you're worried about…" Chevron called from behind them, where he was struggling to catch up. Tagg whirled on him. "An explosive expert who knows where you live!" he reiterated.

Chevron spread his hands out before him in a gesture of surrender. "Alright. Point taken."

Aza made a snort of exasperation and hauled Tagg back around to face her, urging them along. "I'm an adult, Tagg, I am permitted to spend my time with whomever I want."

"No. You're not." He took a moment to control himself, smoothing out his tunic. "What about Casimir?"

Aza felt her heart sink. "He knows?"

"He will soon. He's called a meeting for tonight. Fancy bringing your new friend along to meet everyone?"

That did give her pause. But she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Why not? Now's as good a time as any."

"Excuse, me?" Chevron had caught up with them now. "Has this something to do with me? Because if it does, perhaps I should be involved in the discussion."

Tagg turned on him, grabbing him by the front of his tunic and pulling him forward, dragging him off balance. "Listen, Hephaestus, my sister may think you're worth the trouble, but I'm hard pressed to gather up enough saliva to spit on you. If I find out you've hurt her in any way, that legendary name of yours won't save you from…"

Chevron knocked Tagg's hands off his tunic and shoved him. Tagg stumbled back, and then righted himself, stepping back in quickly.

Aza jumped between them. "Alright. Enough!" Her voice was loud and sharp in the quiet street. A few heads turned their way, and she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.

"You're both acting like children."

Tagg's face darkened. He looked positively primed to throw a tantrum. He set his hands on his hips instead, turning away. Aza took hold of Chevron's shoulder. She had to give him a shake to draw his eyes away from Tagg and down to her again. His chest rose and fell with shallow gulps of air.

"I warned you there were others," she said, with a hint of amusement in her voice. He rolled his eyes, the tension leaving him, and she kissed his cheek, giving herself an excuse to speak low in his ear. "Tonight. Meet me in the park after work. We'll go to your place, and then when it's safe I'll bring you to meet them. Will you come?"

He glanced down at her, and then beyond her, at Tagg, who stood and glowered. The smile he gave her was toothsome, showing slight gaps. "I'll meet you then."

She kissed him without passion, but with a lingering hint of promise, and then stepped out of his way, allowing him to skirt around Tagg and resume his normal walk to work.

Tagg watched him go, fingers twitching at his sides. Once he was gone he turned back to his sister, who stood waiting, hands in her pockets.

"Aza?!"

"Enough, Tagg, I don't want to hear it."

"I told you, this is a terrible Idea."

"Too late. It's already done."

"But how long, Renn?" Sleer stalked around her white office, marble white skin almost blending in with the walls, her jet black hair in shocking contrast. "You've had access to the Teleport for over a year now. Even the Plaxton drive didn't take that long to re-construct and implement.

"It's difficult," the grey face on the vid monitor atop her desk spluttered. "The Scorpio was a complete wreck. All her systems were in a state of intense disorder. It took us months to even figure out which parts of debris belonged to the Teleport system at all, after having it all shipped to our labs here, and as far as getting it to work, we are making headway, but it is a very advance technology, years in advance of anything we have to compare it to…"

"My entire fleet of Mark Tens have been equipped with the Plaxton Drive. I want teleport capability as well."

She swished over to her desk, seating herself directly in the eye-line of the ruffled departmental head. "And Renn, I want it soon. Or do I have to remind you of what happened to the last Section Leader who didn't preform up to my exacting standards?"

Renn swallowed hard, a visible bobbing of the throat even on the small vid screen. No, she didn't. He didn't know what had happened to the last Section Leader. No one did. Not even his family. Sleer smiled at the frightened man, and cut the connection abruptly.

She rolled her head on the plush rest of the leather seat, letting her eyes wander out over the starscape behind her. Some days she really was frustrated at not having Avon here to speed this process along. It was a lost hope though; even their mutual attraction would not have been enough to keep him from fighting her, and he could be a dreadful bore when he got it into his head to be uncooperative. Six months of intense torture had not induced him to see things her way, and if there was one thing she truly hated it was pigheadedness. A stubborn refusal to see what was good for him, what was possible.

There would be pain, yes, of course. No man surrendered without pain, but there would be pleasure as well, if he'd only allowed himself to be led.

Still, it was too late now. Things were safer this way. She wielded ultimate power, and Avon had been dominated so entirely that it wasn't even fun anymore. Meanwhile there was still no sign of ORAC, and all her peons were scrambling to catch up with technical concepts that one Computer Analyst First Class could have done in his sleep.

She sighed and turned her vid monitor back on, switching over to her favorite live monitor feed.

He was seated at his desk, a forgotten cup of coffee perched at his elbow. He seemed to be getting along well with the lady in the seat next to him over the last few months. A friend perhaps? Sleer reminded herself to have the woman re-assigned.

Avon shifted his tight shoulders. Oh, darling, she thought, I bet you would be so much more comfortable if I'd let the doctors heal those injuries properly for you.

Something flashed across his face, only for a second, and then disappeared. Sleer frowned.

The comm on her desk chimed to life.

"Madam President?" It was Rai's voice. "There is a message from your operative in the Earth resistance group. He has a report to pass along."

Her hand slammed down on the comm button. "Not now."

Sleer paused the vid. She rewound the tape, watching again. Yes. Right there.

Avon's eyes had slid away from his computer screen for a moment, considering something private to him, and the expression ghosting across his lips was a smile.

Sleer smashed the button to turn the monitor off. She realized that her finger was still depressing the comm button.

"Rai?!"

"Yes, Madam President?" his anxious voice spluttered.

"I want the head of Terran Security on the line. Now."

"You're smiling," Aza pointed out, sliding down onto the bench beside Chevron. He started slightly, having been drifting around in his own thoughts, and then turned the smile on her. He really is quite handsome, Aza thought as she considered this new expression, despite his scruffy appearance. She admitted it was an unconventional handsomeness. One had to concentrate to see it, but it was there, a surprising reality of his constantly shifting features. Perhaps pretty was a better word. She knew it had a great deal to do with his eyes. She had always been fascinated by people's eyes, and his were liquid brown, knowing, and unfathomable.

"I think I've been trying not to all day," he said.

"What? Smile?"

He shrugged. "It is a little out of character, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmm." She let her shoulder rest against his for a moment, watching the daily trudge of people pass them by. "Maybe not."

His expression clouded over for a moment, one hand worrying the corner of his tunic. "This isn't safe, Aza, what you're doing."

"No."

"Then why do it?"

"Because the Federation-"

"I know. Genocide. Enslavement," he pushed back into her shoulder. "Why are you doing it? My charms aren't that overwhelming."

A look of contrition passed across her face.

"Please, don't get me wrong," he continued quickly, embarrassed, "its extremely satisfying, just not very flattering."

"Being a means to an end, you mean?"

"Hmm."

She seemed to think about this, fingers twisting and untwisting on her lap. Chevron realized with surprise that he was taking only shallow, quick breaths, and had to force himself to release the tension in his shoulders and take a deep breath. He didn't know what he was so afraid of, but obviously her answer mattered to him more than he thought it would.

Her hand stole into his, and he felt her calm gaze tugging his eyes up to meet hers. Whatever reticence she had felt was gone. Her face was clear and open, inviting him in, as he had so quickly come to need.

"It's true, I don't know you. It's true, I have a personal reason for wanting your cooperation, and it's true, that I don't love you."

He gave a short laugh, and it sounded sadder that he had hoped. "Well, you're nothing if not thorough."

She squeezed his hand, keeping his attention. "But we are lovers. And I don't regret it. And we are friends. Something I hope we can continue. I don't know how this ends, I've never done anything like it before, but I don't have to pretend to enjoy your company. I do. And I don't want to see you hurt."

"Even though you'd sacrifice me if came to it?"

"Yes." She hadn't paused.

He really wished she had paused.

Her face changed, and her voice, when she spoke, was hollow. "I had a husband, until four years ago." She was hiding from him now, her eyes glazed. "He wasn't with Blake, but he was a follower of his ideas. Federation policy is to eliminate all rebels, and their families."

"Families?"

"It was my job that saved me. Too many resources invested for them to want to waste, and Tagg was only connected by marriage. He was questioned, and released. They wiped the relevant memories from me and that was the end of it."

"What do you mean, 'wiped the relevant memories'? They made you forget him?"

"Yes. It took me a long time to start to realize what they'd done."

He waited a moment, but she was finished, even though he could tell there was more. His own stomach was twisting now, full of a sudden dread.

"And I was a rebel…?"

"Yes."

"And so my family…?

"Yes."

Just like that. He almost wanted to laugh again, but couldn't find it in himself. "All of them?"

"Yes."

He did laugh then, dry and without a trace of humour. He didn't even know how many people that meant. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Had his parents still been alive at the time? Had there been someone else? A lover, or a child? He tried to remember, to search for even the faintest glimmer of sadness, or a glimpse of a familiar face, or feeling of warmth. But there was nothing there. Only absence, and a heavy numbness. It gave him a headache actually, even the attempt to look back into his mind. "It seems…. we have a lot in common."

"As all good friends do."

Her hand squeezed his again. He had forgotten she was still holding it. A gesture of comradery that shot straight to his heart.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling the inadequacy of the statement.

"Thank you," she replied. Her voice eased his conscience. She sounded like she meant it.

He hadn't realized how lonely he had been. How empty his existence. Aza was right when she'd said his life was a kind of torture. He knew it was human nature to make one's situation the norm, no matter how bad. Even the tortured eventually came to empathize with their torturers. This first touch of human kindness over the last days was almost too much for him, and he knew he had grabbed onto her like a lifeline. Where she led he would follow, regardless of consequences.

Attending his first meeting of the resistance was more frightening than he thought it would be. Chevron had known there would be others there, but he had not been ready for the feeling that he had come upon the Inquisition in progress. Seven pairs of eyes stared at him. Seven mouths set in tight bruising lines. He fought the urge to clear his throat. Tagg was one of them, pointedly not making things any easier. Finally, a giant sheepdog of a man in soft-looking work clothes stopped pulling on his bottom lip and stepped forward.

"Kerr Avon?" he rumbled, holding out his calloused hand.

Chevron accepted the greeting, squeezing the hand in silent thanks. "So I'm told."

A whisper of sound ran around the room, possibly his name, and he saw feet start to shift uncomfortably in the group.

Casimir barked a short laugh. "Well, if Aza is the one who told you, you can trust her. She has a tendency to be overenthusiastic, but she doesn't lie. I'm afraid I cannot say that I'm pleased to meet you."

Chevron looked around at the circle of stony faces. "I see. Aza mentioned to me that this Avon chap was not well-liked. It seems she was not exaggerating."

"She was not. Your re-emergence puts you in quite a bit of danger."

"From you?"

Casimir thought about that. "Not at present, no. To condemn a man without allowing him to defend himself would be against our principals." He looked back significantly at his group of rebels. "Find a spot and sit. I need to have a moment alone with Aza. Bril will answer any questions you have."

Chevron did not miss the sharp hold Casimir took of Aza's arm, and then they, along with Tagg, crossed to the other side of the room, their voices lost in the hum of the machinery.

A comfortably fat man with a thin fringe of light brown hair like a monk's tonsure crossed to an overturned set of crates a few feet away and gestured for Chevron to join him. For lack of any better options, Chevron did. The rest of the rebels created a rough circle around them. None of them sat.

"My name is Bril," the fat man said. "What name shall we call you? Do you want us to call you Avon?"

"If you'd like, but I'm more comfortable with Chevron."

"Very well. This is Holburn," He pointed to a smallish man who seemed to made up entirely of sharp angles. "Lana," a woman of average height, long brown hair, "Waitstill," an elderly man, hunched over, "And Gedney," a large man, broad, with a nose broken multiple times.

Chevron nodded to each in turn, considering that if this is what constituted the rebellion on this planet, it was no wonder he had never heard of it. This group didn't even look capable of filling out the ranks of a dome softball and Soma league. He nodded politely.

"And you?" Bril seemed hell-bent on being welcoming. "I understand you're a systems analyst?"

"Uh, actually, I work in physical plant."

"Physical plant…?"

"I'm an air conditioner repair man."

"Oh." This finally seemed to give Bril pause. He rallied quickly after, giving Chevron a companionable slap on the arm. "Well, welcome to the Rebellion!"

After multiple comm transfers and a great deal of yelling, plus three firings, President Sleer sat glowering at the Head of Special Security, staring at her guppy-faced from the monitor.

"You know how important the Chevron project is to me, personally," she hissed, a truly horrendous sound, coupled with the deadly glare she was levelling at the man.

"Yes, Madam President," he choked out. "I read the reports daily. All the tapes are reviewed. Any new contacts checked. Nothing significant has been reported."

"Something has changed. I don't know what it is, but it is your job to find it and keep me informed."

"He has smiled before Madam President…"

"Shut up. You may have a fourth grade ignorant rating, Commander, but I do not. Re-check everything. Kill people if you have to, but get me answers."

"Yes, Madam President." His comm snapped off with alacrity.

Chevron licked his lips. He was getting worried. Aza had been arguing with Casimir for what seemed like forever, their arms pointing and gesturing in angry semaphore. Bril gave him a bolstering smile, but Chevron didn't buy it.

He stood finally, and crossed to the small group, Bril trailing along after. Tagg saw him coming and nudged Casimir to get his attention, but not soon enough that Chevron didn't catch Casimir's last words to Aza.

"…an incredibly selfish and stupid idea. It speeds up our time table significantly, and puts us all in unnecessary danger."

"Speed up our timetable? From a complete standstill, you mean?" Aza threw up her hands. "I couldn't agree more."

Casimir flicked a warning eye at Chevron and crossed his arms over his chest, dropping his chin into a palm.

"So what do we do?" Aza pressed on, casting a look at Chevron that told him he could stay. "Put him back where we found him? We need access to his information, his skills, his knowledge of the workings of Blake's organization, and here he is, ready to do it."

"And how much of that is because he doesn't know what we're asking him to do?" Casimir shot back.

"I think I should be involved in this," Chevron said.

"Oh, don't worry," Tagg rubbed a hand over his face. "You are."

Aza turned to Bril. "How long do you need to get ready to access the security systems in the psychoanalytic wing? I'll need access to a mind-machine for several hours."

"I can be ready when you are," he answered, keeping himself slightly behind Chevron and out of the circle of intense conversation. "I can access the building's security remotely from my office in Security Headquarters."

"He is heavily monitored," Casimir reminded them. They'll notice any changes in his behavior instantly."

"Then we'll sedate him," Aza shot back.

"Wait. No, you won't," Chevron put in.

Tagg shook his head. "Oh, don't be so squeamish. You're already taking in sedatives and behavior modifiers in your food and water."

"What?" Chevron blinked. Of course. The reason Aza wouldn't drink any of his coffee. He knew she had told him at the time, but somehow it hadn't been real until now, looking at the frightened faces around him.

"And the tracking device," Casimir whispered, his eyes going wide. "Oh, God, Aza, he's led them right to us!"

"It's alright. I already removed it."

"You what?" Casimir almost yelled. "You'll bring the entire Security Bureau down on our heads! Any disruption in his routine…."

"I didn't disrupt any routine. I did it in his apartment. In the shower."

Tagg choked, turning a very charming shade of purple. Chevron just sighed. At least he wasn't the only one constantly unnerved by Aza's reckless behavior.

Brill just laughed. "Clever girl, this one."

"To do something like that right under their noses?" Casimir snapped back.

"Of course. It would be more suspicious if they disappeared for any length of time. They'd have been able to track them anyway. The only way to keep the bureau from searching is to make them think they're already seeing everything. If I know anything about security monitoring teams, and quite frankly, I do - after three years of watching a depressed celibate trudging around, finally getting to see some action will be a Godsend. They'll be too busy taking up an office pool to buy him a crate of personal lubricant to notice a little blood in the shower."

He gave them all a chummy wink, but the look on Tagg's face was enough to wipe the smile away. Fast. "Well," he muttered in his own defence. "It's true."

Chevron's face turned a deep shade of red. He felt highly exposed and scrutinized. He flicked a quick look at Aza, but unlike him, she seemed unwilling to spare even an instant on something so mundane as embarrassment. He wasn't sure if he found it endearing or fanatical. Perhaps both.

"The reality is," Aza cut in, placing herself between Bril and her twin as an added safety measure, "that no matter how many objections you may have, Casimir, It's started. Forward is the only way out of this. First, we erase the memory blocks. We won't have access to his computer skills until he's been restored to himself. I'll need a few sessions."

Bril winced. "Can you do it in one?"

"Give it all back at the same time? It's dangerous. His mind might not be able to bear it. He'll be in deep shock."

"Better that having to tamper with the security system more than once," Bril warned.

"What about getting access to a computer terminal?" Aza asked.

"Not at work. Too open. I could possibly set one up here."

"That has access to the system?"

"No, not exactly. But If I could install a link to my computer, he could gain remote access to the system when I'm not there. That way he could continue to work at his day job, and have system access here a few hours at night. I can't think of another way to keep from alerting suspicions."

Casimir's eyes darted back and forth between Aza and Bril, doing his best to follow the excited discussion.

"And if it works?" Casimir asked.

Aza smiled. "Then we have enough money to buy all our ways off-world."

"Wait a minute," Chevron found the dawning realization of what they wanted from him somehow insulting. "That's my contribution to your cause? A bank heist?!"

"Yes." Aza was firm. "Among other things."

Casimir was pulling his lip again, deep in thought. He glanced up suddenly at Aza's last words, as if they had taken a moment to process. The look of anger in his face was unmistakable.

"Now, hold on. And am I in charge here, or is it you-" he took a step towards her, and Chevron moved before he was aware of it.

His hand lashed out and grabbed Casimir's below the elbow, pushing and twisting the arm behind the leader's back as Chevron stepped into him, using his hip to block the older man's ability to pull away. The hold was messy, but effective. He pulled Casimir's arm up slightly, making him gasp in pain. Chevron rammed his knee into the back of Casimir's and the join gave easily, sending him crashing helplessly into a kneeling position on the floor. It was over in a matter of seconds. Chevron found his arm raised, ready to fall brutally on the man's tender neck. In a haze he could hear yelling, sense movement, and his breath left him as a sturdy force hit him in the chest.

Tagg shoved Chevron back, grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall behind them. There was a moment of mute surprise, and then Aza was there, trying to stop them, pulling at her brother's arm. The rebels from across the room ran towards them, already lagging behind the action, while Casimir rolled himself onto his back, struggling to sit up. Bril stood with his mouth hanging open in surprise.

Tagg was leaned in so close Chevron could feel the heat of his breath across his face. He did his best to shake off the haze and understand what was happening, but nothing made sense. He wasn't a violent man. He'd never even thrown a punch before that he knew of, let alone manhandle a full-grown body to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, "I don't know how I…"

"Save it." Tagg growled at him, shaking him by the tunic-front until his teeth chattered together.

"I must have thought he was going to hurt her. I would never…"

"Oh, no." Tagg loosened one hand from Chevron's front enough to get it free and push Aza back away from them, never taking his eyes from his captive. "Don't imagine you have feelings for her. People like you don't have feelings like that."

"People like me?"

"Cold-hearted murdering traitors," Tagg said matter-of-factly. "You killed Blake. You could kill us all if it suited you."

"I killed…" Chevron felt like a he'd been slammed with g-force. His head spun. He couldn't seem to breath through a constriction in his throat. He felt the warm and sticky residue of blood on his hands, squeezing between his fingers, and couldn't tell if it was a memory or his imagination…

Villas face was a comical mix of confusion and despair. "Die? I can't do that!"

"I'm afraid you can. It's the one talent that we all share. Even you."

"I think I'm going to…"

The sound of receding footsteps echoed through the ships hallways as Vila ran to be sick…

Had that been his voice? When would he have said something so callous to someone? He realized that a silence had fallen in the room, and there was a hand still pressed around his throat. Over Tagg's shoulder, Chevron could see Aza cover her mouth with a pale hand. Brill helped Casimir regain his feet, and the older man brushed himself off, calming his flock with an upraised hand. "I'm alright. Tagg. Really. It was just surprising, that's all. He obviously didn't mean to. Let him go."

Tagg remained where he was, his grip almost tight enough to choke.

"Tagg," Casimir boomed. Tagg released Chevron's shirt front and stepped away, letting him stagger back to a stable footing. Chevron loosened his bunched up tunic from around his neck, keeping a weary eye on his recent attacker. Aza pushed her brother out of the way and took a possessive hold of Chevron's arm, inspecting his neck for visible damage.

"Really, you're all acting like children," she said.

"Which is what people do when they're frightened," Casimir soothed.

"I'm sorry." Tagg was hardly contrite. "But I think we should just forget this. It's far too dangerous. We don't know what he's capable of. Even he doesn't know."

"Listen, who's decision is it?" Chevron's voice cut through the others, slightly hoarse, but firm.

Casimir sent a look around to his people, but most were staring fixatedly at the floor. Even Tagg was silent.

"Well, yours, I suppose," he answered.

"Fine." Chevron finished straightening his tunic, removing Aza's hand from his arm in the process. He wanted to be standing under his own power in front of them. "When can we start?"

The silence continued. Aza sent a challenging look to Bril, who finally met her eye. "Oh, All right. I can be ready tomorrow night."

Chevron nodded. "Then so can I."

Casimir sighed. "Fine. Aza, you and Chevron keep playing happy families. Make all the arrangements you need to with Bril. Tagg, you stay with them. I suppose the rest of us had better start figuring out how we are going to get system access for our newly acquired computer genius."

"This is absurd." Tagg grumbled.

"But," Aza pointed out, "kind of exciting."

"A woman?" Sleer was livid. The atmosphere in the room had turned distinctly chilly, despite the high flush that rose in her cheeks. "What do you mean, just a woman?"

"A woman, Madam President. She was subjected to all the standard security checks. She's one of ours."

Sleer tightened her first on her desktop, willing her anger in check. "Specify ours Section Leader."

The man on screen glanced at someone obviously standing behind him, off screen. There was a murmur of low voices. He nodded and addressed himself back to the camera. "She works for the Division of Mental Alteration and Conditioning. She's Thayer's top assistant. She's been thoroughly vetted and conditioned. It also appears from the records that he approached her."

"How long have they been together?"

There was a moment of off-screen data-checking. "Three days. At no time have they been out of sight or hearing range."

"No time? Never? What have they been doing?"

"Well…"

"Well, what?!"

"They hold hands on the way to work."

Sleer slapped her hand down on her desk with a sharp crack. The man on screen jumped visibly.

"Section Leader Carn, do I look like your mistress?"

"Madam President?"

"Do I bear even the slightest resemblance to whatever slatternly wretch has to waste her life on her back under your sorry carcass?"

"N…No Madam President."

"Then stop trying to screw me by telling me what you think I want to hear."

Carn paled. His eyes flicked back over his shoulder for a moment, before he straightened slightly, obviously trying to salvage what he was fast realizing could turn out to be a fatal situation for him. "They have been spending their nights together."

"You were supposed to report anything out of the ordinary!"

"He'd been alone for three years. I don't think any of the men thought it was out of the ordinary for him to seek out company…"

She raised her hand, cutting him off mid-sentence, and buzzed the comm on her desk.

"Yes, Madam President?" her assistants voice came in crisply. Ah. Dependable Rai.

If she made it know that she wanted someone to sleep on the floor of the foot of the bed she knew she would wake the next day to find Rai there. Perhaps one day she would ask. However, now was not the time for such warming thoughts.

"I want my ship ready to leave for Earth immediately. Contact my personal guard, and my Psychostratagist. We leave at once."

"Yes, Madam President."

She turned back to the vid screen, eyeing the sick-looking man still swaying on his feet at attention. Who would she promote to his position after he was dead? Someone with a modicum of intelligence, hopefully.

Well. Leave it to Rai.

"I want all the relevant recordings sent to my ship at once. I will review them personally on my way to Earth.

"Yes, Madam President!"

"And Section Leader, I mean all the recordings. Whether you think they're out of the ordinary or not. I will also need a list of the names of everyone currently working on the Chevron Project. I feel a need to reallocate my resources."

She snapped the vid link off and strode out of her office towards the hangar bays, hoping it was not too late already.

"It's hard to explain." Aza said. Over the last few days she had become almost absurdly comfortable having conversations with Chevron in his shower. Strange under any other circumstances perhaps, but here and now, it seemed quite natural to be standing with him thus. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, his arm draped forward over her shoulder as she rinsed the suds out of her hair. She turned, picking up the bar of soap, and began rubbing it roughly into his beard.

"You need a haircut."

"Don't get distracted," he warned, pinching her suddenly on the hip, making her jump. "Tell me what I've got to look forward to."

"Mind-wiping is really a misnomer. Instead you introduce mental blocks that keep the subject from consciously or subconsciously accessing the memories." She massaged her fingers over his chin, dragging her thumb over his lower lip. Chevron knew a distraction when he felt one, though, and raised his eyebrows in question. She relented.

"It requires drugs and conditioning to keep the blocks in place. Removing them is a lot faster, but hardly ever done. It can be psychologically damaging. In the best case scenario, we remove one block at a time, letting your mind get used to the ability to access its past experiences. As it is, all I have to do is isolate each block, and repair the neuropathway that accesses it. If I were looking for little things, say, a certain time in your life, or a certain aspect of your personality, it would take forever. In your case however, the pathways they blocked were large. Like stopping an artery instead of mucking around with a series of veins or capillaries. Afterwards, therapy helps find a memory or a series of memories behind each of the blocked areas and causes you to seek it out, letting your own mind push through the block and re-opening the pathway there. In your case, that means literally everything, since your wipe was total."

"I'm sorry I asked."

She shrugged and applied the soap to his shoulders and chest. He watched her, noting how proprietary she was when touching him now, as though she were surveying her property. Her mountain range. Her Sea That Has Become Known.

He assumed it would have been disturbing to him if he had time to think about it, but no such time was afforded him. Since he had met her, she never seemed to be far away, either physically or in his thoughts, and he wondered if he'd ever felt anything like this sense of comfort before. A strong instinct to protect in order to maintain this new status quo.

He brushed water from her eyebrows, watching drops glitter in her long fiery lashes. With a smile he realized that he was feeling rather proprietary himself.

"What's that smug look for?"

"What? Oh. Nothing. I…I don't want to know why you know all this about me, do I?"

Her return smile was not encouraging. "Because of my position I have access to any file I want."

"That's an interesting way of saying it was nothing personal."

She broke eye contact with him, focusing instead on the job at hand.

"It's true that I killed Blake, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. He appreciated that she didn't coddle him with lies, but her bluntness stung sometimes. "Then I am a cold-hearted, murdering, treacherous bastard, aren't I?"

She looked back up at him, concerned and sorry and angry all at the same time.

"It's just that I'm afraid of who I might wake up as," he pushed on in a hurry. "I mean, I might wake up someone that you don't…want to know."

Her hand pressed against the center of his chest, warm, even in the hot water of the shower, and she told him the first thing that came into her mind.

"In order to avoid the inconveniences which seem necessarily connected with your actions, you must endeavour to be a general without an army; and to take possession of a strong city, which hath neither gates, nor ditches, nor walls; so as, that the difficulty you would meet with, in surmounting these obstacles, may not inspire you with so much rage as to make you destroy everything."

His legs trembled slightly. "Where is it from?"

"A Continuation of the Arabian Nights." She smiled sadly. "No one was there but you, Chevron. No one knows what really happened on Gauda Prime. The Federation told us all a version of it, of course, but there's no way to really know. Who knows what drives a man to kill a great friend? The whole free Galaxy felt like they owned a piece of Blake, and we all felt cheated when he died." She slid her hands up his chest, hooking her arms around his neck and pillowing her head on his shoulder. "But I think you and Blake owned each other in a different way. Maybe that's worth remembering, even if it ended in pain."

He stroked his hands down her back, stopping at her slender hips, focusing on the flesh and blood of the present, the wet slide of hands against soft skin.

He felt her press closer and speak into his ear. "We have a few hours before we have to go. Any last requests?"

"I can think of one, yes, but…"

"But…?"

"Just once, it would be nice to spend time with you without the entire dome listening."

"Well that's not fair," she laughed, "how do we know you don't work better with an audience?"

Sleer had listened to it all. All the tapes of all the nights. Nothing incendiary had been voiced. Nothing treacherous planned. There was even a sharp and panful pleasure for her, listening to Chevron's fumbling. Especially the first night. Something about his vulnerability and embarrassing lack of confidence clashed so powerfully with the Avon she remembered. The man she had offered the universe to.

"I suppose I'm just no good at this…"

"Don't ever say that. You are exactly as you should be…. Are you against me undressing?"

"I have no objections…. Slower."

"Would you like to touch?"

Movement. An indrawn breath.

"May I?"

Silence.

"You skin is so soft."

A bump, scrape of feet, heavy breathing. Cloth rustled against cloth in rough hands.

"Please don't turn around."

Sleer smiled again, closing her eyes. She advanced the tape. Stopped it.

"Come on. Shower."

A few moments later and the spray snapped on. There was nothing else. Faint sounds under the water, possibly something being dropped. Minutes later a yell or growl, indistinct.

Sleer traced her eyes over the sound wave logs, finding the rise and fall of voices. Conversations about work. Vids. Coffee. They laughed together. Often. The sound grated on her. More showering.

Sleer considered the fact that she had never found showering with someone all that pleasurable. Too cramped; and she distrusted any situation where you couldn't walk away from a conversation without having to dry off first.

"Computer, stop recording." A silence fell in the cabin of the shuttle. "Isolate the sound of falling water on the recording. Filter it out."

The recording re-started, almost eerily silent now, accept for the occasional low murmur. Sleer leaned forward. "Amplify the background sound. Clean up any high or low-end interference. Restart at the beginning."

A second later the silence played again. There was movement now. Something metal on plastic. And then voices, low but distinct.

"Well?" Her voice.

"Well, what?" His voice.

"Well what? Well, darling, are we making love or expecting rain?"

"Enhance those voices." Sleer commanded. Banter, back and forth, and then her voice again.

"We're safe here, if you keep your voice low, and clean-up will be much easier."

"Advance two minutes." She hissed.

Nothing.

"Advance five minutes."

"How does it feel to be free?"

A snarl. Something wet hitting against something, harsh breathing.

Sleer's fingers dug into the arms of her chair so hard that her nails cut into the fabric.

When Rai came in twenty minutes later to deliver a message to her, she was still seated, eyes

staring out the window at her side, the recording looped, and seemingly forgotten.

"Say it again."

A half-sob.

"Avon."

"Madam President?" he ventured. She did not acknowledge his presence, her silence all the heavier for the sounds of heated joining humming through the cabin. Rai shifted uncomfortably.

"Madam President, your operative in the resistance group on Earth has sent another communication. It's marked with the highest level of urgency."

He held out the data pad, unconsciously keeping himself as far away from her as he plausibly could. "They request a meeting as soon as you arrive in the capital."

She reached over without acknowledging Rai in any other way and took the data pad. Her eyes flicked through the information, and Rai watched quietly while something she read there caused her back to straighten.

"Set up the meeting. Is there any way to make this ship move faster?"

"No, Madam President."

She treated him to a level gaze. Rai took a few steps back towards the door.

"I'll talk to the Captain and see what I can do."

He fled from the room then, away from the stone-quiet woman with havoc in her eyes, and two voices, desperate and powerful, psalm and antiphon.

"Say it again."

A half-sob.

"Avon."