Naturally, the mess hall was deserted. Every vid screen within was on and broadcasting, the information the Fleet had and could disseminate without worry of classification streaming over every one of the myriad displays.

By habit, she moved over and sat down at the table her Wing normally used. She remained fixed on the screens, trying not to worry and almost obsessively rubbing her new leg as she worried anyway.

About ten minutes after they started the klaxons cut out, the sudden silence resulting in a mad ringing in her ears. The red lights, however, continued to flash.

Not long after that, all the scrolling information, reports, and tickers blinked out, replaced by a sudden live feed. Ray physically jolted to her feet, staring at the sight displayed in those images.

There was a Kilrathi in a flight suit, on his knees. His helmet was missing and his face was clearly visible. Behind him, the battered remains of a wrecked johnny were obvious.

Standing beside him, a pistol pointed firmly at his head, was Parry. She looked a bit battered herself, flushed and dirty. For some reason she was not in her own flight suit, just her uniform. Almost the moment the image popped up, she began to speak, and her voice rang throughout the deserted mess.

"This is Second Lieutenant Parry 'Angel' Mazurek of the Confederation Special Forces Tactic division. If you do not cease all hostilities and retreat back into Kilrathi space I will put a goddamn bullet in his brain. You have five minutes to comply."

His felid eyes shifting to the camera as well, the Kilrathi began to speak, but Ray didn't hear him through the rushing in her ears, the thundering in her chest. She didn't need to hear him say it, she already knew who he was. Prince Zuhn Akrushi Aitken, son of Emperor Sarn Aitken.

Ray clapped her hands over her mouth and whispered a soft, 'oh, no.'

Parry was already a desperately wanted target by the Kilrathi, for having killed Ara Chaz. Never mind that she hadn't done so, not really, but the Kilrathi didn't know that. Now, by threatening yet another child of the Emperor, Parry had all but signed her own execution order.

The image disappeared as swiftly as it had become, and the screens started their steaming information feeds again. Still on her feet, her hands still over her mouth, Ray stared at them, then slowly sank into a sit.

She didn't know what to do. The Kilrathi had clearly initiated hostilities, and threatening the life of one of the royal family was certainly a good way to get them to stop- if the Emperor cared at all about his son- but more questions than she had answers for darted through her mind.

Where was Parry? She'd clearly been on a world or a moon somewhere, but where? Why was she not in her flight suit? How had she managed to capture Zuhn? How had she managed to transmit through the comm jammer that had been affecting most of the Confed systems, according to the reports she'd been watching? Where was the rest of Alpha?

Why had Zuhn even been in a position to be captured, anyway?

The crashed johnny must have been his, but what was he doing in a johnny in the first place? Even the Kilrathi don't just stick their royalty in a fighter on the front lines, like a common soldier.

Nervously, Ray tried to stand, unconsciously intending to pace- but bolts of electric pain shot through her thigh only partway up and she sank back down, rubbing it with an almost rhythmic fury.

I should be there with her.

It was all she could think, and it repeated like a mad mantra in her head.

I should be there with her. I should be there with her.

How long she sat there, unfocused eyes on the ticker as she rubbed at her leg and repeated these thoughts, she couldn't say. Her next recall was of jolting slightly as the mess door hissed open, the sound stark in the empty hall. She felt odd, like she had been jolted out of a nap, and for some reason the memory of the SOTAC emblem set into a floor winked in her mind and then darted away.

She looked over, staring dumbly at the figure that had strode into the mess, who in turn looked in similar surprise back at her.

"Ray?"

"Parry…"

She got up, limping as she strode over, and hugged Parry tightly. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I-…Ray? You're walking!"

Parry took her by the shoulders, looking down at her legs. Ray shook her head.

"That's not important," she said. "What happened? The Kilrathi attacked and then you appeared on the vids and-"

Parry groaned slightly. "All the vids?" she asked.

"Yes. You captured the prince-?"

Perhaps Ray's stance was listing, or she was leaning a bit too hard on Parry, but Parry clearly noticed it. Holding her gently, she shifted Ray back until they could sit down. The look on her face as she peered at her was full of concern. Ray unconsciously started to rub at her leg again, only vaguely aware it was throbbing like an exposed nerve.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"Cats shot at us, there was a fight, the Prince went down, and your Angel there captured him."

They both looked over at the voice that came from near the door. Crazy Jane was striding in. As they looked at her she continued.

"Our two fighters were damaged and we were forced to put down hard. I was luckier than Angel- her lines ruptured and it was spitting coolant all over her."

Ray looked at Parry. "Is that why you were out of your flight suit?"

There were red patches on Parry's cheeks, and her whole body felt tense next to Ray's. A muscle in her jaw was flexing, and she was not looking directly at Haleh but instead at a point somewhere on the floor. She nodded.

Watching her and Haleh, Ray knew suddenly they were both lying to her.

Something else must have happened, something they can't say. Classified again, no doubt. Their fighters must really be damaged though, if they're here and not out with the rest of the Wing.

"What was Zuhn even doing at the front?" Ray asked. "One of the royal family in a fighter during an attack?"

This time, Haleh was utterly honest in her response. "Classified."

"The rest of Rho know," Parry said almost defensively. She was still tense, her body all but singing with dislike for the other woman. "Ray is-"

"She's still grounded, and it hasn't been determined if she's still part of Rho or not," Haleh said pointedly. "You may not mind getting shot for spilling classified information, but I'm not about to do it."

"It's all right," Ray said, trying to put Parry at ease again. She didn't like it when Parry was upset and tense like this. It got to be so Ray herself could almost feel it, her muscles wanting to knot up too, and her gut growing bitter. "I'll be back in Rho soon and find out anyway."

"Listen to the Gimp…" Haleh said, but barely had she got the last word out than Parry was surging up to her feet. Reflexively, Ray caught hold of her, pulled up to her feet as well, fresh stabs shooting through her artificial leg as she did.

"Parry-!"

"Don't call her that!" Parry said furiously. She didn't move forward to go after Haleh, which was a relief, as Ray was pretty sure that would have pulled her off her feet completely had she tried.

"You've had a rough day, so I'll let this go," Haleh said with a smirk at Parry. "Things still aren't settled out there but nothing you can do right now anyway. I highly suggest you get some rest while you can."

Her dark eyes glittered, and Ray looked at her, still gripping Parry's arm. "You too," she said.

Jane winked at her- which only made Parry's muscles knot the tighter-and then walked out.

"Come on," Ray said gently, lightly tugging on Parry's arm. "Please."

Parry turned away from the door Haleh had walked out of, and at Ray's first limping step put her arm around her waist to help steady her. Ray could almost feel Parry's tense anger suddenly dart away, replaced by concern.

"Are you ok?"

"Let's get back to the barracks, sit down," Ray said. She tried not to lean on Parry too much, but every step was worse than the last as her atrophied and weakened muscles threatened to give way, the pain growing hotter and sharper. In the end, Parry was practically carrying her, hollow-eyed with concern. She steered them into Ray's bunk, which was closer to the mess, and sat her down on the bed.

"Are you ok?" she asked again, worry in her voice. "It's not supposed to hurt like this, is it? Your leg-?"

"No," Ray said. She was rhythmically rubbing at her thigh again as the pain dulled down into a manageable red, heated glow. "The alarms went off before they could fully adjust it, and I probably shouldn't be walking on it so much. I wanted to get out of the way of the doctors, though, in case of a lot of casualties- and I wanted to go somewhere I could watch the feeds and see what was happening."

"I can understand that," Parry said softly, but the concern had not gone out of her eyes. "Can we…take it off? Would that help?"

The pain was better now that she wasn't standing on it, but it was still pretty bad- far too bad to ignore it any more as she had been doing. She nodded.

"Yeah, probably better," she said, then looked down at her uniform trousers. "Uh…"

"What?"

"I'd have to take my pants off. There's not enough give to roll it up high enough. Would that bother you?"

Ray wasn't concerned about it herself, as she was wearing undergarments. Confed issue at that, which meant even for the women they were closer to shorts than what civvies might wear. Parry might be embarrassed by it however, or troubled by the sight of her scarred stump, and Ray didn't want to put her through that discomfort.

Faint hints of color appeared in Parry's cheeks, but she shook her head. Ray looked at her warily.

"The stump isn't pretty-"

"I'll be fine, I promise," Parry said gently, already tugging off Ray's boots and setting them aside.

They got her trousers off and set aside. Sitting in her shorts, Ray touched the two releases, one on either side of the cup of the prosthetic. Instantly it loosened, the leads automatically powering down. The pain immediately vanished, leaving only a lingering ghost behind it.

"Oh, that's much better," she said, and then smiled at Parry when the other woman glanced at her, to reassure her. Shifting as gingerly as if the prosthetic were made of glass, Parry helped her ease it off and then sat on the bunk beside her, holding it in her lap.

Ray leaned over toward her footlocker, taking a small folded rag off the top of it, and then began cleaning the lubricant off her stump. As she did, she caught Parry looking at it woefully.

"It's fine," Ray told her softly. "It doesn't bother me."

"Just thinking about how close you came to dying…"

"Then don't think about it," Ray said. "I'm here. It didn't happen."

"How does it not bother you?" Parry asked, still gripping the prosthetic. "You lost your leg, Ray. That's not something most people just shrug off."

It wasn't, Ray knew. Just another thing between me and the rest of the human race.

"Better my leg than my life," she said. She knew Parry didn't believe she was really ok with it, that she thought Ray was doing what most people did- hiding how she really felt about it under a false veneer, burying her true, grieving emotions deep inside.

Reaching out, she took the prosthetic from Parry and carefully laid it over the top of her footlocker, depositing the greasy rag beside it. Then she looked back.

"I know you can't tell me everything," she said. "But…the rest of the Wing?"

"I don't know," Parry said softly. "When Jane and I went down they were fighting overhead. We had comms for a little while before they were blocked, but anything could have happened since then. I don't know if they're all right."

She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and rubbed her hands over her face. Ray gently put her arm around her, leaning on her.

"I should be out there with them," Parry said roughly.

"We both should be," Ray replied. Parry shifted, and hugged Ray tightly. There was nothing either of them could do any more but wait and see.

Four hours passed before the red flashing lights around the station suddenly turned to steady yellow. Though it made no noise when it did, the color change almost seemed to ring with a physical jolt through Ray's head as her eyes registered it. Shifting carefully on the small bunk, she gently gripped Parry's shoulder. She had fallen to sleep some time before, physically and emotionally exhausted. Ray had dozed on and off but mostly she had just lain there, listening to Parry's slow breathing, holding her close, and watching the revolving red light.

The moment the light changed and Ray gripped her shoulder, Parry was awake. Ray pointed to the light and said, "They'll start calling some of the Wings back. Maybe there'll be more news."

"Let me go check the feeds," Parry said, sitting up, but Ray was already reaching for her prosthetic. Seeing her, Parry shook her head. "Ray-"

"It'll be fine for a short time," Ray said, already shifting it on. "I'm not staying here wondering. If the news is good I'll head back down to the infirmary."

There was enough lubricant still in the cup that she thought it would be fine for a while. Parry still wasn't happy with the decision, but she helped Ray finish fastening it on, then helped her into her trousers again, and then her boots. The moment it powered on the dull pain returned, but it was better than it had been. It would take a while to build up to where it was before, and Ray was positive she'd be able to handle it for a while. As she went to stand, however, the weak muscles in her leg surrendered, and she nearly toppled over. Parry caught her.

"Ray!"

Ray held on to her. "Takes more than half an hour walking around to un-atrophy muscle," she said. "It's just weak, doesn't hurt…but I think I'd better lean on you."

She clung first to Parry's arm, then her waist when she realized how much she'd have to lean. Parry put her arm around Ray's waist in turn, moving slowly and taking as much of her weight as she could as they hobbled toward the mess hall. Already, activity was returning to the deserted corridors of the barracks. At least some of the fighters were definitely already returning.

A small crowd had gathered, ten or twelve battered looking pilots clustered in a knot in the mess, when they entered. None were Rho, and Ray didn't really recognize any of them, but the moment they caught sight of the pair entering they stopped their conversation and stared at them. Parry immediately hesitated, and Ray tightened her grip a little.

Then, she saw Jondell, the Wing Commander breaking up the cluster as he moved away from them and toward his pilots.

"Ray, what are you doing out of the infirmary?" he asked, before either woman could get a word out. Before she could even open her mouth to respond he looked at Parry. "The Kilrathi are moving back from the Front, but near as we can tell they're regrouping at a fallback position. It isn't a true retreat, not just yet. Hostilities have fully ceased but we have gotten no official word from the Cats in regards to our prisoner. We're taking the time to regroup ourselves while we can."

"The Wing?" Parry and Ray asked almost in unison.

"Tense and exhausted but no one injured, no other fighters lost but yours and Jane's. I ran into her in the hangar- she told me some information I'm sure you have already been told. We can discuss that shortly. Right now I want you to get Ray back to the infirmary."

"Sir, the casualties…" Ray said. "I didn't want to take up necessary room."

"I understand, and that's laudable," he said. "Things were bad but not nearly as bad as they could be, and from the look of it you should not be on your feet. Back to the infirmary, that is an order. Parry, you can stay with her until I come down to speak with you. Right now Bastille wants to see me."

Parry nodded, then looked over his shoulder at the knot that had reformed. "Everyone is staring at us," she said in a low voice, uncomfortable. Jon lifted his eyebrows.

"You captured the prince of the Kilrathi and at least paused what could have been the end of the First Fleet. Of course they are staring. Go now. We'll talk soon."

They had no choice. Relieved to hear the rest of their comrades were at least in one piece, Ray and Parry headed back to the infirmary Wing. As they went through the increasingly bustling halls, Parry tried to ignore the on-going stares and said softly, "I'm a dead woman, you know."

Ray's grip on her tightened even more, and she shook her head. "No."

"I am," Parry said. "The Cats already wanted my head. With this, they'll stop at nothing until the Emperor has my skin pinned on a wall somewhere. If I get in a pit again every Kilrathi for light-years around will swarm me, wanting to have the honor of taking me down. Even if I don't, Mandarin assassins will track me down, no matter where I go. The Emperor might just decide to throw everything he has at Houston just to put an end to me."

"He won't do that, not with his son on board."

"You can't be certain," she said. "And even if that's true, we can't keep his son on board forever. You and everyone else around me is going to be in danger because of this. If the Confed were smart, they'd trade me to the Emperor right along with his son- use us both as leverage to secure a treaty or at least a hiatus."

"That's not going to happen. The Confed isn't going to do that to you."

"They should…"

They had reached the door to the infirmary area. Balancing on her good leg, Ray halted, pulled Parry toward her, and cupped her face firmly as they rested their foreheads together.

"They won't," Ray said in a soft but convicted voice. "And anyone-Cat or Mandarin- who even tries to get to you is going to have to go through me and the entire Wing first."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Parry said quietly. Ray grit her teeth.

"Don't you do it, Angel," she said. "Don't you dare even think about taking off to protect us!"

Parry blinked in shock, lifting her head. "I wasn't-"

"Don't you do it," Ray said, ignoring the look on her face, just as she ignored the heat in her own eyes, the blurring of her vision. "You promise me, Parry Mazurek. You promise me you won't do that- that you won't even think about doing that."

"Ray-"

"Promise me," Ray said angrily. And she was- she was angry, actually really and truly angry for the first time since she could remember. It was an ugly, hot, foreign feeling and she didn't like it one bit.

"I promise Ray," Parry said.

She wasn't entirely sure she believed her, but Ray wanted this ugly hot anger to go away. She didn't know how people could stand feeling this way.

Of course you can believe her, she means it, Ray thought as she nodded and put her head against Parry's shoulder a moment. She promised, and Parry would never break a promise. Not if she could help it.

Parry hugged her tightly, and Ray shuddered as she felt that hot, nasty feeling of anger dulling down a little as Parry whispered again, "I promise."