Author's Notes: Whee, second chapter! Not much on the Krynn side in this one, but we are introduced to some of my favorite characters from the Discordia series. In particular we have the yaoi gnolls Caleb and Raoul, who were an absolute blast to create because not only were they fun to design, but it was hilarious to view the reactions of my friends when they read the story :P

"I am sorry, but it simply is not going to happen."

General Nitraku was annoyed. As councilor of the Might Virtue on Discordia, he was the highest authority on all things military, barring the Overseer herself. It fell on him to observe every major operation his forces and the hired mercenaries performed, and that often involved making some tough decisions. Decisions like the one he was making now.

He got up out of his chair and walked over to the massive window behind him, which made up almost the entire rear wall of his office high up in the military headquarters building. The metropolis of Discordia sprawled beneath him. Massive steel buildings of all descriptions reached up into the sky, reflecting the starlight cast through the clear, oval shaped dome many miles above. Huge vessels of every kind, from bristling destroyers and battleships to hulking freighters and cruise liners, buzzed about in the sky; while smaller fighter craft, scouts, cruisers and personnel transports zipped in and between the buildings.

Nitraku was a hound archon, a form of angel that was less commonly seen in the service of the Firejewel deity. A kind of canine human, hound archons didn't possess wings like other angels, but were widely known for their valor in combat. Nitraku stood about six and a half feet tall, with reddish brown fur, sharp paws, and a wolfish face whose eyes told of the many campaigns and missions he had been on during his career.

"I'd like to help you, I really would," he said over his shoulder to the two people standing on the other side of his desk. "But I can't risk any more lives in a search party, simply because you have a hunch that your commander is still alive."

The larger of the two replied. "Just give me one scanner cruiser. We already know two of the coordinates the distress signal sent before it was cut off. If we followed those vectors..."

"That's not the problem, Caleb! For all we know, there's a fucking army cloaked out there, just waiting for such a rescue attempt. Until we get data back from the probes we've sent out, I'm not authorizing a single ship for you to use."

Caleb was furious. He was a gnoll, a race not very well known for its patience. Although they looked vaguely similar to hound archons, the two species were never mistaken. Standing seven and a half feet tall, the average gnoll was a humanoid with the features of a hyena. Caleb was extremely powerfully built, with grey fur and a long mane that ran halfway down his back, worn in dreadlocks. He stood in Nitraku's office wearing full power armor, a gesture many would consider to be a threat of hostility, but one that Nitraku knew was simply marine custom, having been one himself in his early years. The snarl on Caleb's long fanged jaw, however, was indeed a hostile gesture.

"Claw's the best damn pilot we have! He's flown over a thousand missions, and has performed what we all thought was impossible on many occasions. And he's a born leader to boot. The Dragonclaws have the lowest fatality rate all the mercenary guilds..."

Nitraku wheeled around and slammed his fist into his desk. The impact made an horrific bang, and left a sizeable dent in the half-meter thick black marble. "Dammit, Caleb!" he shouted. "I know all that! Do you think I enjoy this decision? The Dragonclaws are the best guild out there, and the loss of Claw would be the end the whole group. He has saved my life and the lives of everyone on this ship on numerous occasions." He turned back to stare out the window. "But the decision has been made. The Overseer herself has ordered that the entire ship be locked down until we have some idea of what's out there. The last of the exterior ships are coming inside now. Once they have all docked, the bulkheads are being shut down until further notice. Not a single ship will get in or out."

Caleb's jaw dropped. "And you didn't object to such a decision?"

Nitraku made a weak smile. "I was the one who proposed it. We have encountered this situation before, Caleb. Countless lives have been lost because we did not react like this quickly enough. We have learned since then that you cannot underestimate the technology level and indeed the hatred that some civilizations possess. Discordia is a massive and powerful vessel, but the ships that travel with it are not. Most travel with us for security and protection. I cannot risk all those people for just one pilot squadron, no matter how much of an asset they may be."

"But we're not asking you to risk them!" That was the second person in the room, a kobold by the name of Gretch. Kobolds were short little bipeds with scaly red skin, tiny little claws and horns. Gretch wore torn black leather pants and a faded flight jacket. A pair of flight goggles, far too big for him, rested on his head, signifying that he was either a pilot or a technician. As it turns out, he was a bit of both, although computers were his specialty. At just over four feet, Gretch was practically on the tips of his toes in order to see over the desk. "You could just open the bulkheads long enough for us to pass through," he said in his usual yipping voice. "And then again when we return. No security threat, no problems." He grinned hopefully up at the archon.

Nitraku sighed heavily. "I am sorry, but I cannot. My hands are tied. Any ship going out there could very well be flying to their deaths. I will not send out a single military pilot while we can do a sweep with probes to determine if there are any cloaked ships out there. I just wish they could gather planet data too, so that I would not have had to send Claw and those rookies out there in the first place, but the sensors on probes are too weak to gather such detailed and diverse information. So I am afraid that those bulkheads are staying closed until the all-clear is given."

Caleb eyed the general. "Then I guess we've done nothing but wasted your time. Sorry for the interruption, sir. We'll take our leave, now. C'mon, Gretch."

As they left the office, the door purring shut behind them, Nitraku looked out at the nearest bulkhead. As the last ship passed through to Discordia's interior, the huge airlock door slowly swung shut, sealing the ships inside. "I hope we are doing the right thing..." he said aloud to no-one in particular.

"This sucks," said Gretch for the fifth time. "All we need is one cruiser and for them to open a bulkhead for five seconds so that we can get out."

Caleb turned back to the autotaxi they had just taken and transferred his credit to the computer driver. After receiving it's fare, the small vessel lifted off the landing pad and sped off towards its next customers. "Well what do you expect me to do? We've got no scanner ship and no way to get it out if we did."

Gretch fell into an annoyed silence and followed the gnoll along an arched walkway towards the Dragonclaw building. Being only a moderately sized mercenary guild, the Dragonclaws had no need for real estate outside of living quarters, an armory and a ship hangar, and their building emphasized that. Squat and blockish, laser and missile turrets adorning the walls, the entire structure was certainly not designed with artistic architecture in mind. It showed just what the Dragonclaws were – a military oriented guild that took their security seriously.

They reached the building, and stood before a sealed door flanked by a complex looking security terminal. Placing his claw on a panel, Caleb leaned towards the terminal and spoke into its speaker. "Caleb, marine commander." There was a pause as the terminal checked his hand's DNA, scanned his retina, and analyzed his voice. After a few moments, the terminal glowed green. The door purred open, and Caleb entered a gunmetal grey corridor, Gretch trailing close behind.

"I just feel so helpless," the gnoll said. "For all we know, Claw and his squadron are marooned somewhere in this solar system, and we're sitting on our hands when we should be mounting a search party."

"They're probably dead, you know," Gretch said suddenly. "I mean, if they still had their ships, at least one of them would have sent a message by now. And even if they did manage to eject, those escape pods only last for about twenty-four hours before their batteries die and lose life support."

"They're not dead. I know it. Something tells me that at least Claw is still alive."

Gretch thought about it for a moment. He didn't really think any of them survived, but decided to humor Caleb, anyway. Gnolls were surprisingly quick to anger. "Hmmm... the only way they could last for long is if they landed on a planet or something. But since there haven't been any transmissions, I guess it's safe to assume that they crashed there."

"Yes," Caleb agreed. "If he's still alive, he'll be on a planet. That would narrow our search down quite a lot."

As the two took a left turn down an adjacent corridor, a familiar voice could be heard booming from the recreation room up ahead.

"Listen to me, you demented pile of scrap metal! I've already paid, so stop asking for credits and GIVE ME MY FUCKING BEER!!!"

Caleb grinned, his troubles temporarily forgotten. He knew whose voice that was.

The rec room was probably the most popular location on the base, though due to differing mission times, it rarely had more than one or two squads in it at once. It was roughly twenty-five meters square, and although it had the same gunmetal grey walls as the rest of the base, they were plastered with posters and ads of all kinds. The center of the room had a large pool table, which according to Caleb's last count, was missing three of its balls and both cues. The western side of the room was dedicated to gaming and gambling; slot and pinball machines, flight simulators and the like. Occupying the east wall was the bar, where you could order pretty much any kind of alcohol imaginable, provided you could pay the tab. On the north wall was a giant plasma screen that displayed movies and news reports. Near the screen was enough couches and recliners to comfortably seat around twelve

The southern wall had a large window that gave people a view of downtown Discordia. It was also home to a malfunctioning multi-purpose vending machine, which was supposed to provide you with a wide selection of snacks and beverages. Unfortunately, a glitch in its system would sometimes cause it to deny that you ever gave it any credits for a purchase.

It was at this machine that Caleb and Gretch focused their attention. Or rather, the person standing in front of it who was conducting a losing argument with the device. Clad in brown leather armor, this creature was obviously a gnoll. Strange red symbols adorned his black fur, and Caleb knew from experience that those symbols decorated his entire body.

"That's it!" he screamed. "This is the last time you steal my money!" The gnoll drove his fist into the vending machine. Although he was of lesser build than most of his kind he was still quite powerful, and the impact left a massive dent. A frenzy of sparks leaped out, and the dying machine emitted a teeth-grating, mechanical screech as it happily purged its entire contents, disgorging chocolate bars, soda cans and beer bottles all over the floor. Gretch yelped in delight and leaped down on all fours, stuffing his pockets with candy.

The black haired gnoll knelt down and picked up his beer with a nod of satisfaction, drinking it in one long gulp.

Some people never change, thought Caleb with a smile. "Raoul!"

Raoul wheeled around. "Caleb!" He strode over and wrapped his arms around Caleb's neck in a loving embrace. "I didn't see you there."

"I noticed. You were too busy murdering our only vending machine."

Raoul glanced back at the now useless lump of metal. "Bah! It had it coming. Charged me two hundred credits and didn't deliver."

Caleb laughed. "Only you would kill a vending machine over an amount as small as two hundred credits. Although I agree that it had it coming. To think of all the money I put into it without getting anything back..."

Noticing that Gretch had filled his pockets, pants and jacket with candy bars and was now trying to stuff even more into his mouth, Raoul regretfully pulled out of the embrace and walked over to the pile. "Okay, little kobold," he said as he picked up Gretch by the back of his collar. "I think you've got enough there."

"Mmmmph mupph muuuh!!!!" Gretch said in protest, arms and legs flailing wildly.

"Calm down," Raoul continued. "Besides, I've got a present for you. A little something I picked up on my last assignment."

Putting Gretch down, he removed a strange looking, palm sized item from an inner pocket and handed it to the kobold. It was a black, round device with a tiny screen on the face along with a keypad. An interface port protruded from the top.

Gretch's eyes lit up in excitement, and he spat out the candy wrappers so that he could voice his astonishment. "A HackSoft!" He caressed the hacking tool lovingly. "I've been trying to find one of these for ages! Thanks!"

Raoul beamed. "No problem. Actually, scrounging for parts turned out to be the highlight of the entire mission."

Gretch ran off towards his living quarters, probably so that he could munch on his ill-gotten chocolate and examine the HackSoft.

"So those hackers your team was assigned to take out didn't put up much of a fight?" Caleb asked.

"Nah. We tracked them down to a cargo freighter called the Rotten Elixir. They were on a moving ship so that they could relocate and make it harder for us to track them."

"Did you find out what their intentions were?"

"They turned out to be just a group of rebel teens out for a laugh. Nothing but scrawny, pale faced computer nerds by the looks of 'em. We blew out their ship's airlock and stormed the place, but they all surrendered as soon as they saw us. No-one even got to fire a shot. They're all in the hands of the Enforcers, now. It will be some time before they try to mess with Discordia's security grid again."

Caleb snorted. "Stupid kids. They waste our time when we could be going after significant targets that actually posed a real threat. So, err... where are the rest of your team?"

"Ha! Like they'd come down for a celebratory drink after such a pointless mission. I'm only here because I make it a tradition to get drunk after every assignment, regardless of how it went."

"You shouldn't do that," Caleb said with a smile. "One of these days, you'll wake up in bed with some huge, hairy creature for a mate."

Raoul cuddled Caleb, running his claw down the larger gnolls neck in a loving caress. "I fail to see how that would be a bad thing," he purred.

Caleb felt a rush of pleasure at the touch, and for a moment wanted to forget about all his troubles and be with his companion. But it was interrupted by a wave of guilt. Here he was, in an embrace, while Claw and his team could be marooned, maybe even dying on some unknown world.

Raoul, feeling his lover tense, looked up at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

Caleb sighed. "You haven't heard, have you? About the lockdown?"

"Lockdown? We just came back from our assignment, and haven't been debriefed yet. What are you talking about?"

He told Raoul about Claw's disappearance, about how the ship was sealed until further notice.

"Shit!" cursed Raoul, who was now pacing the room. "If only there was some way we could leave this ship... we could go searching."

"Well, there isn't," said Caleb, leaning against the pool table. "We've thought about it for ages, and there's nothing we can do without a scanner cruiser and launch clearance."

"Are you certain that Claw's still alive?"

"Positive. He's been in worse situations than this. I can't speak for the rookies he was flying with, but I'm sure he's still alive."

Raoul looked at him with concern. Although Caleb didn't feel towards the commander the way he felt for him, he still held a great admiration for Claw. Raoul didn't think Caleb was being tortured by the fact that the commander was missing, but rather because there wasn't anything he could to help. Being ex-military, Caleb held a great respect for leaders who actually led, rather than sit around at some base miles from the actual battle. Claw may be their leader, but he was also a mercenary just like them, and was constantly getting his hands dirty with the rest of his company on missions. That was a quality Caleb admired, and so he felt an undying loyalty towards the hybrid. A loyalty that Raoul feared may one day tear his soul apart.

It was at this point that Gretch rushed back into the rec room. "Raoul," he breathed, gasping for air. "If you're back, then doesn't that mean the Angel's Sorrow is back in the hangar?"

"Well, of course," Raoul said, puzzled. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Gretch smiled, and revealed his hastily designed plan.

Xavier had always loved the dark. He had spent many of his childhood years trying to figure out why. What was it about the absence of light that so fascinated him? What was it about the blanketing darkness that filled him with wonder? Then he realized what it was.

It was because, without the scorching light to smother it, the world was shrouded in mystery. It exhilarated and terrified him at the same time, inviting him to venture forth and discover its secrets, both wonderful and terrible. It was an invitation that he found impossible to resist.

But there was another reason, too. It also made things stand out in a way that they never did during the day. Once the burning sun had sunk below the horizon, other, gentler lights took its place in what could be a truly stunning display. Whether it was the leaves of a great tree shining in the pale moonlight or the sparkling monoliths of a teeming metropolis; the tantalizing silhouette of a lover wreathed in shadow or a ship gleaming in the soft yet spectacular twilight of a billion stars; darkness brought out the best in all things.

The darkness made things beautiful.

He reflected upon this as he sat in the dark captain's quarters of his command ship. The ships artificial lighting certainly served its purpose, but even that could sting sometimes. Darkness never did that. It never hurt ones eyes that way. It was always gentle and kind.

The Black Sun leader sat on the bed of his quarters and ran his fingers through his short beard. Xavier was sixty-eight, but technically almost a million years old if you counted all the time he had spent in suspended animation. He was surprisingly fit for one of his age, though, with a strong build and short black hair, which now contained prominent streaks of grey. His eyesight was as good as ever, his deep brown eyes capable of spotting a target miles away.

A familiar presence suddenly filled the dimly lit room, and Xavier eagerly turned his attention towards it.

This was another reason why he loved the dark.

It was where SHE came from.

HELLO, MY LOVE. The voice was feminine, loving and dangerously seductive at the same time. It appeared in his mind, making every nerve in his body tingle with pleasure and shrink away in fear. This was what he lived for, he thought. This is what directed his every move, his every decision. He wanted, more than anything else, to please this being, regardless of what would happen to his body, mind or even soul in the process. Nothing mattered besides her happiness.

"Hello, Mistress," he said in a shuddering voice.

DO YOU BRING ME NEWS?

"Everything is proceeding as you planned, Mistress. Our pilots encountered the scouting team at the exact coordinates, and the trap worked perfectly. The scouts are now dead, except for one that we have taken prisoner."

SHE WILL BE USEFUL TO US, BUT THE ELF WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE TO COME OUT ALIVE. ANOTHER SURVIVED.

"What?" Xavier was genuinely surprised. The pilots had reported killing all of them. He would have to discipline the two severely for the lie.

IT IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE. THE SURVIVOR IS A PITIFUL HALFBREED, WHO IS NOW STRANDED ON A WORLD THAT WILL NOT TAKE KINDLY TO THE FACT THAT HE WORSHIPS AN ALIEN GODDESS. HE WILL NOT SURVIVE LONG, AND KNOWS NOTHING VALUABLE ABOUT US ANYWAY. HE MATTERS NOT, the voice became playful. BUT I WILL LEAVE THE FATE OF THE LIERS IN YOUR HANDS.

"Thank you, Mistress," Xavier said. "They will serve as an example as what happens to those who fail in their tasks."

VERY WELL. NOW, TELL ME OF DISCORDIA AND THEIR REACTION TO OUR ATTACK.

Xavier smiled. "They are in a state of emergency. Their ships are recalled to inside the hull and the bulkheads are sealed."

EXCELLENT, the voice purred. THEIR UNEASE WILL WORK IN OUR FAVOR. NOW THEY WILL GROW PARANOID AS TO WHAT AWAITS THEM ON THE OUTSIDE.

"Indeed, Mistress. What do you require of me now?"

There was a pause as the voice seemed to consider. I NEED YOU TO TRAVEL TO THE LOWER PLANES. THERE IS ONE WHO OWES ME A FAVOR. I BELIEVE HE WILL BE HELPFUL IN FURTHERING OUR CAUSE.

"I will depart immediately, Mistress."

GOOD. I HAVE ALTERED YOUR SIXTH SHUTTLE CRAFT TO TRANSPORT YOU TO THE PLANE IN QUESTION. IT WILL TAKE YOU THERE ONCE YOU ACTIVATE ITS ENGINES. BUT FIRST, ALLOW ME TO PROVIDE YOU WITH A GIFT.

"A gift?"

YES. THE CREATURE I WANT YOU TO CONTACT WILL NOT ASSOCIATE WITH A MERE HUMAN. I WILL... IMPROVE YOU. I WISH TO ADD SOME SMALL BEAUTY TO THAT ROTTING FLESH YOU CALL A BODY.

A great pain suddenly lashed through Xavier. It felt as if his bones were trying to turn themselves inside out and grind each other to dust. But it was also surprisingly pleasurable, triumphant even. It was the pain that made him scream, but it was the pleasure with it that made him continue to do so. Then the pain shot into his head and concentrated in his eyes. There the feeling changed, now feeling more like breaking out of a shell and ascending into a higher form of existence. He shut his eyes, letting the feeling consume him...

...and woke up on the floor. He felt... different. More energetic. More... youthful. He felt more aware with his surroundings. Xavier sensed the supposedly silent ventilation system as the oxygen molecules bounced through it. He sensed the density of the hull in his quarters, and also felt a vague glimpse of the energy currents in the void on the other side.

I HAVE HONORED YOU, MY DARLING. YOU HAVE NOW BEGUN A TRANSFORMATION, ONE THAT WILL SOON MAKE YOU INTO A BEAUTIFUL BEING THE LIKES OF WHICH ARE ALMOST NEVER SEEN ANYMORE ON THIS PLANE. IN TIME, YOU WILL BECOME INVINCIBLE.

He opened his eyes, pupil less eyes that now glowed a fiery red.

NOW GO, the voice urged. WE MUST ACT SWIFTLY IF WE ARE TO SUCCEED. DO NOT FAIL ME, MY DEAREST.

Xavier got up off the floor, dusted himself off, and headed for the ship's shuttle hangar.