Hallo all. It's good to be back. Let me tell you it's really hard to keep up with studying for finals when you're addicted to writing fanfics, but I do it anyway. You might want to hear a funny little story that happened to me--
Chibi Mara: *Groan* "Do we have to? God, girl, you tell too many stories as it is!"
Shut up. Fine, I won't.
Well, I promised I'd have this out in June, but it looks like I'm going to be a bit busier this summer than I thought. I'm really gonna try and get this book out before the end of summer vacation (and maybe severely and harshly edit AC 206, 'cause I know it's much crappier than 207 and this one), but if I don't it won't be my fault because my band is taking a huuuuge trip next year and I need almost a thousand bucks, so I'm doing hard labor this summer (that and for my mom).
Chibi Mara: *Sarcastically* "Poor baby . . ."
Oh well. It's better than starving or having regular blackouts. That would play hell with my one and only love (my computer, duh). Hey, that reminds me of the "Well, duh" award we gave to Brenda . . .
Chibi Mara: "Quick, start the fic before she starts telling horrible band stories!!"
And one time at Band Camp--
*Slap*
And one last thing, on a more serious note: This book is dedicated to all my senior friends who graduated last week. Eric, Mark, Mitchell, Kyle, Chris, Mandy, Carissa, Amy, Elizabeth, Jessica and all the rest: I love you all and don't ever think you can't reach past what you're capable of. Guys, because you graduated, you proved to the world that you're intelligent, capable and responsible human beings.
*Boy, you sure fooled everybody, didn't you?*
***************************************************************
ItsumademoOtaku proudly presents the climactic conclusion:
Book 3 of the 3-part series The Threads of Time:
The Search for Truth (Part I)
Prologue: "Fragility"
The stars twinkled pitilessly in their niches of space, greedily drawing in their planets and comets and every bit they could possibly reach. A medium-sized yellow one grasped desperately at the refugees fleeing madly away, defying the homeland that had so carelessly given them life. Deep within the bowls of the ship, she heard the thrum of the powerful engines as they burned through the cold night, tense and hurried. Near them, beyond the sterile metal confines of the prison that held three small children, men with a hurried and fearful step spoke in quiet whispers as in the presence of someone already dead, if not in body than in spirit. It was familiar now, though never a pleasant foreboding as they colony-hopped. With the deep animal instinct borne of fear, she cuddled close to the two infants, all together on the small green cot, under the thin, ragged blanket. She convinced herself that she was protecting them out of her own motivation, but a faint memory rested just beyond her reach that signaled that someone else might have asked it of her.
From day to day for an indeterminate length of time, this had been the norm. Once a day she was given colorless food that tasted of nothing, so much as that she no longer felt the desire to eat. She only did so because, despite everything, the will to live seized every fiber of her being with such strength that she could barely restrain herself from trying to break. The babies were part of that which held her back behind her wall.
No matter what, she would show no one how she suffered, even if she was on the brink of death. She vowed one day to exact revenge, and knew the strength of her convictions would hold to help her survive. She no longer felt pain when they had the needles. The chemicals no longer made her dizzy, sick and exhausted. Her head had grown resistant to the itchiness of the short, stiff bristles of dark brown hair. White was the only color. Lights were merely a contrast to darkness. Blackness was merely a relief from the light. She lived in a waking sleep, too worn to keep aware and too filled with fear to surrender to that peaceful, blissful danger.
Fireflies flickered behind her eyes, where she couldn't see. Odd, random images and voices and words and ideas sought a connection she was unable to supply, as if all her receptors and sensible ends had been burned and charred beyond recognition. Only the new things were there, the things they thought fit to drill into her skull. They called her a number, but she had once been called something else. All she could do was make assumptions about who she once had been, because there must have surely have been a before.
Deep down, she waged war. She pretended not to understand their words as they spoke them, although she did. She taught her charges, the ones they didn't bother with because of their lack of adequate age, the words that no one knew. They were both babbling "nonsense" now, though the dark-haired one had to be watched lest he accidentally express his comprehension of the other language, because he had obviously been raised with it. Her heart ached to see the risk he posed to her plan.
She could almost touch space sometimes. They wickedly restrained her trainers, controlling them if she tried to run. She'd been beaten the first time she'd tried— and worse— but the stubborn ember remained. She had a mission, she knew, that they were training her for. She had a different mission, and that was to go against everything they wanted from her.
The thought never occurred, since she had nothing to base such and assumption on, that someone might want with all his heart to find her.
~~@[-*,-]@~~
Snow fell softly, soundlessly on the European landscape. The world gleamed white in the new year of AC 208, a metaphor to how burdens— as the seasons— change, yet don't vary a whole lot on a larger scale. A panorama of grassy fields and lakes seemed so peaceful and unknowing, uncaring. If only I could be part of nature, he thought. Then, I wouldn't have to bear all this trouble.
Quatre had gotten special leave upon the sullen news of the kidnapping. Beliv just didn't want to give up on Heero's family, and had found the little warrior Vincent in the bargain. The Crime scene specialists had confirmed exactly what they had all suspected all along; Dorothy had been there personally.
The truth, on his return, had been hard to take, although not entirely unexpected. Anja was pretty, intelligent and friendly, but it still hurt to see that Trowa hadn't even sent word that he'd met someone. Heero, who was openly the most devastated, wouldn't speak to anyone but Relena, and only when the two were alone. Duo had been frantic, and both he and Heero had spent their every waking moment of the past few weeks on the hunt for their missing children. Both the women had turned to the others for comfort, which Quatre had been all too willing to provide. It was hard to believe they were gone.
Wufei had left before Quatre had arrived, promising to take the news to Mariemaia with all urgency. Une had granted him special diplomatic leave so that there would be allowed no contact between him and Earth whatsoever. Phailin had been uneasy about it, but soon settled on the terms she'd been dealt. Her final message to the others had come the week before Quatre had gotten to Earth. She had moved into the old base at Samut Sakhon within ten minutes' walking distance of her village. She had taken pains to make sure the message had been encoded. She was obviously worried enough about the bounty on her head to be careful.
It was late in the night at the Sanc Kingdom. Outside the real glass windows, crickets chirped in ignorance of the tensions mounting. He'd rarely seen Noin in the time he'd been there— she had apparently been trying to drop out of sight. Milliardo had been in a mad dash, trying to scare up information. It was working, since nobody seemed to know exactly what to make out of the Peacecraft newly returned from the dead. Milliardo wasn't eager to relish the details, either.
Just beneath the curtain of storm clouds, the castle huddled as if severely intimidated. Milliardo, however, had made sure not to let that happen. He'd stirred up old soldiers and members of the Treize faction (those that were still alive). The Sanc Kingdom had an army— but one that didn't need to be trained. That had been the strategy that should have been applied in the first place. Quatre had the feeling the Sanc Kingdom wasn't going to fall this time.
In the rosy light of the dawn, Quatre saw Milliardo's broad figure knelt at his father's grave, next to a beautiful bouquet of roses. For the first time since he'd known the man, it looked as though he was lost. How, in a time when everything seemed to be going so well, could he be disoriented now?
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Phailin crept into the deserted village on silent, soft-shoed feet, disguised in browns and greens so as not to be distinguished on the sheltered jungle trail. She swept away the last vines and wiped her hand across a sweaty brow. It was especially steamy today, and especially silent. Phailin had observed the activities around the village come to an almost standstill, and today the roads were deserted entirely.
No one knew she was in the area— as an extra precaution against attacks— but that also meant that she was painfully uninformed and alone if something did happen. Her heart beat in her throat at the thought that a bounty hunter might have decided her family was lying about their knowledge of where she was. Perhaps they had constructed this elaborate ploy just to flush her out.
To her left, a door slammed suddenly and a boy tripped on his high steps, crying out in pain when he landed on his arm. Phailin recognized his pain-distorted face and ran to help him up. "Chai-son? Where is everyone?"
Her brother scowled at the nickname that he hated, but looked at her with wide eyes. "Phailin, where did you come from?"
She shook her head. "Never mind that. What's happened here? Where is everybody?"
Jason was a good four inches taller than when she'd last seen him. His face was sharper, longer, more masculine. It was a shock to see him so grown up, a reminder of just how much time had really passed from her wedding-day.
"You didn't get mother's message?" he asked, incredulous. "Chatalerm's gotten himself into a bit of trouble again. Well, actually, it's not his trouble this time, it's his betrothed . . ."
"What? Slow down!" she urged, quickening her pace. "Who are you talking about?"
"Chatalerm's been off-planet, and he brought back a foreigner. She looks like a Chang, and refuses to tell us where she's from. Yesterday, two of the village elders were found murdered in their beds . . ."
Phailin waited to hear no more. She sprinted ahead, having a bad (and strangely familiar) feeling about this.
True to Jason's word, every single villager was gathered in the center of the community, yelling insults and lashing out in anger. A woman, bruised and injured, was tied against one of the wooden posts that ringed the bonfire area. She was a Chang, Phailin could immediately tell by her face, but she was obviously a frightened one. Remembering Wufei's stories of female oppression among his clan, she seemed very docile. Large doe-eyes streaming with tears searched the crowd desperately for someone— Chatalerm, she would guess. Phailin scoured the crowd for him but didn't see the man, wondering briefly if he'd chickened out and ran for the sanctuary of the jungle.
Knowing how her village was prone to anger toward the Chang clan, she fought her way forward to the poor girl, who looked on the verge of fainting. She threw herself bodily between the mob and the post, shielding the little thing from the hurled objects. A rotten fruit glanced across her head and smashed into the post before people began to realize who she was. Shouts of confusion began to replace those of anger.
"I will not move from this spot, until I'm either cut down or given an explanation!" she shouted, feeling her throat rattle unpleasantly at the uncomfortable volume. Although silence began to establish itself, no one offered the story.
Keeping one eye on the others, Phailin turned to the poor girl, who looked all the more frightened. Phailin gave her a reassuring smile and wiped a bit of dirt from her cheek. "Tell me what you know," she whispered, in the Chang language so that others could not hear what was being said.
Her face flooded with relief. "You're the first person here who I can understand! Chatalerm told me his village had a disturbance with a Chang years ago, but I never imagined . . ."
"My father was murdered by one," Phailin said, careful not to let the bitterness seep into her voice. It wasn't the whole clan's fault, after all. "And many of our ancestors fled the clan hundreds of years ago to escape oppression. Do you know what happened last night?"
She shook her head again, eyes brimming with tears. "They just broke into our home and took me, yelling, angry. I don't understand what I've done. Chatalerm told me they had treated another Chang with great hospitality, but . . ."
She hiccuped and Phailin felt her heart crumble. She was convinced this tiny little thing couldn't have killed. She was too upset, and it wasn't in any way an act as far as she could tell.
"Perhaps you'll understand why you're being blamed now: two of the village elders were found killed this morning." She grimaced. "I have a bad feeling, but I can't fathom how you could have done it."
Her reaction of horror further enforced Phailin's suspicion of innocence. "Who— who would do something like that?"
"I don't think it was a person from this village. I have my suspicions, but you need to know nothing of that. Where is Chatalerm?"
Her lungs filled with the vocation of his name, and she peered around her protector and nodded in his direction. Phailin followed her gaze and saw him, a cross of relief and terror on his handsome features. She gave him a microscopic nod and noted his location, giving him a signal to stay where he was. Bringing him into this would only complicate matters.
"Where is my grandfather?" she called. There was a silence, and the expressions of the crowd further deepened. Oh no.
"Phailin . . . he's dead," one of those near whispered, almost beyond hearing. Phailin wanted to sink to her knees, but knew it would only reinforce their anger and devastation. The dear old man had been her best confidant her whole life. He couldn't be gone. For a split second she wanted to turn her anger on the Chang girl. More of her family taken from them by those abominations—
"No," she told herself, clenching her teeth against the pain. There's no proof, there's no proof. "Where is the new head elder?" she called, hearing her own voice crack despite her best efforts to bury her emotions. Now was not the time to be upset, not now.
An old man named Kanm fought his way though the crowd. He had always been fragile and prone to great surges of emotion.
"I want to hear everything," she told him after noting the disdainful look on his wrinkled features, clenching her fists against her sides. "Kanm, dammit, the blood of the ancient kings of Siam flows in my veins! Don't brush me off like I don't know how to run my own damn village!"
He shook his head. "I truly don't remember, Phailin. You would have to read the reports."
"Bring them here," she commanded with the voice she had used so rarely and never with Wufei, the voice of a true Siamese princess who had been village-raised and palace-sponsored. Father's brother, the king, would have something to say of hasty judgements, had he been near. No one argued, knowing full well that she might run to her uncle.
She sat cross-legged (Wufei's sword resting in her lap, out of it's sheath) and read through them. The other man had been her other favorite elder, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was more than coincidence. She held her breath when finally braving the photos. It was like something out of the legend of Jack the Ripper. Behind her, the Chang girl made choking sounds and looked away from the mutilated bodies of the two old men. Phailin's breath caught in her throat, hiding them when Jason tried to look. The boy certainly didn't need to see that. Something caught her eye, and she leaned closer to scrutinize the image more closely. There was a cloth, bloodstained, with writing on it. She whispered the description to her brother and had him run to find it.
"How horrible," the girl sobbed, tangled, matted hair falling in front of her face. "Your leaders cut to pieces like cattle."
"My grandfather . . ." Phailin replied softly. "The one man I trusted here, and he's dead. So horribly . . . Even my father died quite painlessly. This was a deliberate move toward me."
A copy of the text was sent from the coroner. The girl gasped as she recognized the script as her clan's writing. "That . . . no wonder they're suspicious!"
"For those who say there is honor in losing, let her see how long she stays hidden in midst of such loss. May your ancestors suffer the curse of a thousand betrayals," Phailin read. "This was aimed at me." The first . . . was something she'd said. The second was a phrase she had never heard outside of Shenmu Training Grounds.
She called Kanm to her. "This girl is not at fault. I know who they are, and what they want. They probably wanted you to blame her, and knew I would see through this ploy at once."
"How do you know?" Kanm looked doubtful.
Phailin, not in the mood to dance political dances, sprang to her feet. "The note found buried in my grandfather's body contained a quote that I am familiar with, and one this girl would not be. My life is in danger now, and that is as much as I can tell you, but I know this girl is not guilty. I will meet with the village counsel about this, but I demand that this girl, Chang or not, be released. There is no way she could have killed those two men. Even I am not willing to believe my grandfather died at her hands!"
The mob murmured softly, and doubt of the first assumption began to spread. "Put her in a guarded house," Kanm ruled finally. "Chatalerm, watch over her. We will inquire."
Phailin quickly untied the poor thing and handed her over to Chatalerm, who rushed forward to take her into his arms. He gave Phailin a grateful look. "How . . ."
"Come to the meeting," she told him quietly. "You will understand then."
Before she could escape, her mother affronted her. The short, round woman had lived a harsh life in the village, the daughter of the village head and widow of a prince and then wife to an abusive Englishman. Having her daughter not tell her where she'd been was just about the limit. "So close to us but you won't visit," she complained in broken Basic. "Sometime I think you're more trouble than a girl is worth."
"'Sometimes,'" Phailin corrected patiently. "And I have my reasons, mother. My life is in danger, and if news came that I was staying at the village . . . you know I don't want to put you all in danger."
"Ah!" She slapped Phailin's arm in triumph. "I knew that Chang was trouble!"
"It has nothing to do with Wufei," she bit back. "It was my own fault I'm wanted as a dead woman. It's not even really the Changs this time." And Wufei . . . this was going to be hard without him. "That note was in amateur hand. They wanted you to suspect the girl, and I know it wasn't her!"
Her mother's mouth flapped like a fish's before she stormed off, obviously frustrated. It was better than outright rejection, Phailin noted depressingly. She headed off to find the shrine in the forest. She had to pray for her grandfather, and the other, and for Wufei. And, she thought grimly, for herself.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
As far as he could tell, Heero hadn't slept for weeks, days at best. Every time Duo saw him, he was organizing something. Most of the time, he was sitting at his computer, searching files— whether he was doing so legally or not was at question sometimes. He assumed Heero knew better than to run blindly into outer space (where Dorothy's diplomatic shuttle had launched), but the Japanese man surprised him once again.
"I'm coming," he heard Relena insist from the open doorway. I don't have anything to lose here. I'm not running the Sanc Kingdom any more. I may be needed."
"Absolutely not," Heero said stubbornly. Duo noted for the first time how strained he sounded (not to mention how he looked!). No matter how strange it might have sounded years ago, Heero was suited for fatherhood. "What if something comes up that Milliardo doesn't know how to handle? Where would we be then?"
"What if something comes up that you can't handle alone? I don't want to lose you, too!"
"I trust you're going on the hunt?" Duo interrupted, not wanting to hear them bickering any longer. If Heero and Relena broke up . . . he'd consider that a bad sign. "She's right, you know, Mr. Perfect Soldier. Milliardo's a big boy. He and Noin will be fine on their own. But regardless, I'm in."
"What the hell are you babbling about, Maxwell?" Heero rubbed furiously at his ringed eyes. "This is a solo operation."
"Not anymore," he countered. "Relena's right. You need someone to back you up, because whenever you're alone you get yourself in trouble. I think you, me, Sophie and Relena should all go. Us four should be able to think up some way to lead Beliv in the wrong direction— and be more visible. Making this covert would be pointless. Beliv knows you'll be on his trail and trying to hide it will only make you more prominent. The whole world knows our children are missing; It would only make us look ridiculous to try and hide the search."
Relena shot her husband a triumphant glance, and Heero groaned knowing he was backed into a corner with no chance of going down fighting. A good dad knows when to surrender. "All right— but we have to be careful. This must be meticulously planned. If anything goes wrong, our lives will be on the line."
"The first step will be to organize public appearances, urging help and support. If money's coming in from anonymous sources we may be able to use that to some of our own secrecy." Relena thoughtfully jotted something down on a notepad from her dresser.
Duo was surprised at the seemingly casual observation. He hadn't thought Relena to have a sly bone in her entire body. He held up both hands. "Hey, whoa! Before we do anything I'd better go get Soph."
Heero stopped him. "Meeting now will not earn us much. Let's meet tomorrow to see where our aim should be. After that we can plan once we're away and moving. Secrecy will be easier that way."
"Good point," Duo admitted. "Well, I've still got to go tell Soph or she'll kill me when she finds out tomorrow. I'll see you two in the morning." He ran off, carefully closing the door behind him.
Relena smiled at the not-so-concealed gesture. She set the notepad down softly and approached her husband, reaching out to massage his shoulders. That's where he tended to carry all his stress, and it only gave him back problems. She had the feeling he'd need to be fit for this mission.
Heero closed his eyes appreciatively and sat down on the edge of the bed to give her a better angle so her arms wouldn't get sore. "I forget just how tense I am sometimes."
"That's what your doctor said years ago. Haven't you ever listened to him?" She tried to sound lighthearted. The last thing Heero needed was criticism of his actions. He cared a lot more about his image than he was willing to admit, especially around her.
It was one of the sweetest gestures Relena had ever seen him give her. He tried so hard not to let himself slide into a mentality that she disliked. He worked so hard at it sometimes that he overworked, and she had to remind him to go ahead and let something loose. It was times like this when the tight bond they shared really showed, like a steel wire in the middle of a soft plastic cord.
"I hope they're okay," he said quietly, finally releasing the nervousness he'd pent up inside himself for these long three weeks. "Considering who the man is . . . who knows how they are."
"They're alive," she said firmly. "I can feel it. Akiko's still burning bright out there somewhere, and she wants to come home. I can't wait for the day when we can hold them both in our arms again. It seems like so long ago."
Heero let his head sag forward as she worked her way up to his neck. She felt the cords there tighten and loosen as he clenched his jaw. "I remember carrying them both up to bed that night. I checked the window latch, and I tucked them both in and Akiko woke up long enough for me to tell her I loved her . . ."
His voice trailed off and Relena stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the recollection. They both meant so much to him, and to her. It was hard to believe sometimes that they were both half him and half her, products of a love that almost hadn't been. It was hard to imagine what it had been like if Heero hadn't come back to get his coat, or if Howie had been too shy to point out the fact that he loved her as much as she had been willing to admit to him the night before. Things could have gone so differently, but we're here, and we have to make the most of it.
Heero turned to her, putting a warm hand on top of hers gently. "We'll get them back. They're too important to not rescue," he reassured her, his eyes which had once been empty and grieving were flooded with determination, fueled by affection and longing and fear.
"I know, I just want them back now," she said quietly. She had all faith that they would see them both again, and soon. Much of that rested on Heero's newly relaxed shoulders.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Marie dozed in the arms of the gundam, and Cam watched from an inconspicuous spot nearby. Christmas had been the turning point, but he wouldn't have exchanged anything for those brief hours of intimacy. Since then, though, Mariemaia had been much more complacent, more temperamental and much less burdened, and no one was quite sure why— except him.
Fortuna's deep hazel eyes, her true eyes, flickered toward him again briefly before slowly, patiently scanning the rest of the room. No longer feeling any need to hold deathly still, her feathers moved slowly over one another. How was it possible, Cam wondered, for a machine to be animated when it really wasn't truly alive?
The secret was so hard to keep, but he'd sworn his life to it and he wasn't about to give up that vow. He remembered three weeks previous when he'd stumbled into it . . .
The urgent knocks on his cabin door brought him out of a deep, restful sleep, and he had still been asleep enough not to notice Marie's absence. Ben had been there, breathless. "I can't find Mariemaia!" he said wildly. "We need her on the bridge. Someone said they saw her leave with you last night—"
Cam had made a face; It hadn't been his intention to be noticed. That wasn't politically correct and would probably have embarrassed the girl. "Hold on," he had said, but when he went to check he had found her missing.
They'd split up to search the ship, and Cam had an idea to go search the bay where Fortuna was being held. He had known Marie had the habit of running to the gundams to help with her conflicts. He'd gotten there, and something huge and black shot out of the sky and wedged him on the corner of the catwalk, surrounded by one of Fortuna's wings. Distantly, he'd heard a drowsy female voice ask what was going on. She shouted at the gundam for almost killing him and demanded to be put down. Reluctantly, it had seemed, the wing withdrew and the gundam had lowered her hands to the catwalk, where Marie leapt like a cat down to the metal mesh. Cam, unsure exactly what to make of the suddenly moving mobile suit, was unable to accost her for hiding when her crew needed her.
That was when he had been entrusted to the Secret.
Suddenly, Marie stirred as if being spoken to. She rubbed her eyes and looked in Cam's direction with a puzzled expression— which then turned to one of exasperation. "If you want to come see me you don't have to sit there staring like a predator," she called in good humor. "It makes a girl paranoid."
Cam felt himself blush. He hadn't meant to be noticed. Taking the hint, he climbed down from his somewhat precarious spot and approached her, shyly. They hadn't spoken much since Fortuna had become such a major attraction for her, but it appeared as though she wasn't necessarily disinterested. Sudden ridiculous fantasies swirled in his brain for a moment before he was able to subdue them. It was unrealistic to dream things like that, but it was so hard not to want those things. "Am I not allowed to look at you?" he asked, albeit mumbling somewhat.
She sighed again and rolled her eyes. "You're as shy as my uncle when it comes to women, aren't you?"
"How shy is your uncle?" he jested back.
"Like a hen in a fox den," she said, sounding honest and somewhat resigned. Seeing as how he was standing expectantly at the base of Fortuna's giant hands, she motioned for him to climb up.
Cam placed his hands and feet tentatively on the somewhat soft, padded material (although he'd assume it to be metal). Marie's left palm twitched as if from a sudden itch, but she invited him onto her perch just beside the gundam's wrist. After an uneasy moment of silence, she said quietly, "I don't think I thanked you . . . for, well, you know why. It meant more that I think I even know."
"I went with my intuition," he admitted. "You'd been projecting that you were taking care of yourself, but it felt like a false wall."
"And you were absolutely right," she said, "and I'm glad you had the sense to realize that I've never been a social person."
Cam slipped his arm around her shoulders slyly. "Well, there's always room to change—"
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs and laughed. Cam felt a grin summoned to his own face when he caught sight of those incredible green eyes twinkling with merriment. That reaction in itself was what made his efforts worth it. He brushed her forehead lightly and held her sharp, slightly angular face toward his, unable to tear his gaze away.
A description as "a mere attraction shared not long ago with a deeper, more profound event" was a great understatement of what the two of them were feeling, though neither would admit it. What seemed to be temporary, flamed infatuation between them was actually a deep understanding that only develops at a severe emotional cost. Strong bonds that had connected by Marie's identity crisis tugged them close, and they both willingly fell into what was destined to be a long, meaningful embrace—
Suddenly, the quite pulse and all movement of Fortuna ceased. Before either of them could break away, a visitor interrupted them. "You know, I don't think on top of a gundam is the best place for a make-out session if you two are intent on keeping that private at all. Considering the confines of this fleet, privacy's difficult already, but you're just vying for attention. It's a good think I didn't send a messenger."
Cam recognized the voice as the one that belonged to the adolescent Dennis Ender, a temp crewmember of a delicate sixteen years. Dennis was wearing little more than an undershirt and jeans, and the fairly fresh pink scars of his severely damaged body and spirit showed vividly on his deeply ebony skin.
He grinned and threw himself back onto Mariemaia, who kissed him with a kind of sarcastic fever.
Dennis shook his head, but he was obviously happy that his close friend Marie was getting some badly needed attention. "Well, when you care— because I know you will eventually— we've got an incoming pilot who wants in, but we've got a little bit of an issue with him."
Marie pushed away from Cam and brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. "What? Why?"
Dennis shrugged, knowing he'd gotten her attention. "Well, I suspect he's come on a mercy mission on behalf of your uncle to make sure you're all right. I don't think it's harmful, but I didn't know if you'd appreciate being babied."
Her brow furrowed in mystery. "Who is it?"
Dennis flashed a bit of his bright white grin before answering. "Our good friend Wufei Chang."
"Chang Wufei; last name first," she corrected automatically, but then she jumped. "Wufei? What's he doing here?"
"Why don't you ask him? He's waiting just outside our security parameter."
****************************************************
Three nights ago I fell asleep at my word processor and woke up to three hundred pages of "dddddddddddddddddddddddd". It was kind of funny until I had to delete it from my fic. That took forever. Yeah, I know I'm a nerd, but I beat bullies up, so watch it.
Chibi Mara: "HELP ME!!"
*Insane laughter* Too bad we share a soul Mara. Anyway, my parents were trying to buy me this car that I didn't want and on Senior Graduation Night some kid fell asleep at the wheel and ran smack into the side of it. I'd finally gotten used to the idea of owning that particular car.
Yes, the gods of irony strike again.
And one time at band camp--
Chibi Mara: "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
She gets so disgusted with that it's funny.
Anywayz, I might or might not get the second chapter out in the next couple of days. Wish me lots o' luck on my finals because I'm going to need all of it! Stay posted for the next chapter of AC 208: The Search for Truth (Part II): "Dawn."