Notes - This story is suppose to take place approximately 10 years after the Endless Waltz sequencing, when the boys have become men. The basic idea is that, as a whole, the GW pilots captured a continent on Earth and started their own empire. The basics of their empire are covered in the Epilogue. Comments, flames, suggestions, what ever are welcome...not so much flames, but you get it.

Disclaimer - the only thing I own are Desari Syndil, and the story itself.

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CHAPTER 1 - THE GATHERING

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"Hanna Cartwright." The voice was clear and concise, yet it over pronounces every syllable, and makes things that are familiar feel out of place, like a genetically engineered rose placed among a field of wild dasies. A young girl shivers despite the heat of the day, her skin producing a cold sweat. This is it...this is really it. She hadn't believed that there truly was such a thing as The Gathering, she had never witnessed it! The school master had been able to afford the younger children that..sparing them the trauma of seeing older sisters and friends being carted away in some large, metal truck.

"Desari Syndil." Hearing her own name called, she realizes that this felt like a dream - she is looking upon her own body and seeing the scene from a different perspective, not out of her own eyes. Her large hazel-green eyes lift from under blonde tipped lashes, her eyes bright against the rich olive that is her skin. As she bends to gather her belongings - two cases filled to the brim with all of her belongings - her hair spills over her shoulder, obscuring her vision. With a delicate movement, she tucks the unruly tresses behind her ear. It must be spring... she muses, a phantom of a smile touching her lips. ...the red is already coming through. Bright streaks of crimson, berry, blood and ruby weave through her normally chocolate brown locks, giving her a distinctly different apperence over most of her class mates. She wears it long - well beyond her shoulder blades - and allows the lush waves of it to remain virgin. Today, it is no different.

Hefting the two bags, she peers over her shoulder and allows a weak smile to be offered to her village before beginning forward, her gaze lingering upon the small woman before her, then the truck. The voice sounds again, calling forward the next of Desari's classmates to the back of the truck. She can feel her bare feet against the hot sands, and allows herself to sink her toes into the thick grains before she must depart upon the metal beast. Rounding the corner of the truck, she begins slowly up the ramp proped against the rear bumper of the truck. About half way up this ramp, Desari lifts her eyes from her feet, and all but drops her cases and gapes, utterly taken aback, by the sheer number of other women confined within the belly of the beast.

There were seats bolted to the interior walls of the truck, each raised about a foot off of the ground, and padded. Black belts were fitted across each woman's lap and across her their chests, confining them to their seats. Above their heads was a closed vent with latched doors. The ones toward the back of the truck were open, waiting to recieve the next passenger's luggage. Hanna, the girl who had been called before her, is just stowing her bags above the first empty seat, her face pinched and taunt, as though she is trying to hold back tears. She is shorter than Desari - just skimming 5' to Desari's 5'5" - and she has short, curly blonde hair. She is darkly tanned, making her bright blue eyes almost pop out of her body with the extreme color difference. She has yet to reach The Age, and is yet pudgy and without distinct curves.

A primal reaction takes place, causing Desari's throat to close and her eyes to well with tears. She hurridly starts up the ramp once again, and closes the space between the opening of the truck's mouth and Hanna. She drops her bags without reguard for where they land, and throws her arms around the tortured girl. She is instantly rewarded with the same attention, Hanna's arms snaking around Desari's sholders and her face becoming burried in the crook of her neck. Hot tears stream against her skin, and the girl convulses in her arms, her sobs buffeted against Desari's neck. Her hands move to the back of Hanna's head and, gently, she strokes her hair, offering a strangled, yet never-the-less determined "shhh". After a few moments, they pull apart, yet their arms remain entwined, Desari offering a weak half smile to Hanna's miserable hiccuping.

"Shhh, Hanna-sama. We'll be back home before tonight is over, you'll see." Her voice is choked and hushed, but there is vindication behind her words, as though she truly believes them with every fiber of her being. Why should they not come home?

"...Desari..." Hanna's voice is pittiful moan, her tears starting anew as soon as they break their contact. Desari allows her features to pull into a frown, and she gives a firm shake of her head. She pulls the rest of the way out of Hanna's embrace and guides her to her seat, fitting the belt into the clasp to keep Hanna seated. She speaks as she bends over to pick up her own baggage and stuff it into the over head compartment, as well as resituate Hanna's belongings to close the door.

"Hanna, you mustn't cry. It's not as though they are going to kill us!"

"You don't know that, Syndil." The voice is a drawl, which makes it all the easier to identify the antagonist. Without turning around, Desari gives a deep felt sigh and once again shakes her head, flipping her abundanace of hair over her shoulder.

"Why do you need to do that Hira?" Desari peers over her shoulder at her friend, her expression vaguely amused. Hira offers a foxish smirk to her Desari, giving a subtle motion that infers that she was simply doing it out of spite. She could not be more the polar opposite of Desari. Where Desari is of moderate height, Hira is nearly 6'; all torso to Desari's endless leg; short black hair, rich brown eyes, and pale porciline skin in contrast to long and red streaked brown, a multitude of greens, and olive complexion. Where Desari has moderate curves, Hira has come full force into her womanhood, her breasts full and her hips expansive.

However, while Hira has her wiles, Desari is lean and strong, more muscle than fat. At their community belly dance cerimonies, Hira is unwilling to allow herself to expose her torso, embarrassed that she does not have the distinct panes of muscle that Desari does, and she is unable to dialate and release in expert rhythems. This, however, does not detour the male suitors that Hira seems to tempt to her door like bees to a flower, and is apt to put this under Desari's nose when ever the vindictive mood strikes her.

"Because I can." Hira finishes loading her luggage into the compartment and takes a seat opposite Hanna and Desari, her legs crossing femininly at the knee as she becomes comfortable. With a snort, Desari takes her seat and fastens herself into the belt, giving a bit of a scowl to Hira. She does not waste too much of her attention on the female across from her, for suddenly the hatch closes and the masses are pitched into a thick darkness, which is puncutating by several high pitched screams. Hanna is one of the guilty and instantly attatches herself to Desari's arm, her entire frame once again in convulsions.

"It's so dark!" Hanna cries into Desari's shoulder, her nails biting uncomfortably into her skin.

"I'm sure she can see that." Hira drawls once more, her tone amused.

"Hira!"

"What?"

"I can't see! Gods, I can't see!"

"And what is Desi suppose to do about it?"

"Hira, shut it! Hanna, let go!"

"Gods, Gods!"

"Would you shut her up then?"

"Auxiliery power on." The voice is a computerize mockery of a female's saprano, her pronunciation and the extra emphasis upon syllables making Desari think of the woman outside. False light instantly floods the truck, bringing everything into sharp detail that the daylight could not have provided, and almost instantly abating Hanna's whimpering. Desari can see several girls strain forward in their seats to watch the simpering girl cling to her friend, most of their features set in amused tones while some faces are puncuated with deep, disapproving frowns. Suddenly concious about the looks, she tries desperatly to remove Hanna from her arm by prying her fingers from her flesh, then setting them delicatly in Hanna's lap. Hira simply supplies an amused smirk, her lips twisted in a mocking manner at Desari's plight.

Having removed Hanna from her person, Desari takes the oportunity to look at the other girls in the confines of the truck, and, almost instantlly, notices that each and every one of them are wearing the exact same thing - single piece, black body suits that hug the frame like a second skin. The high neck ends at the middle of the throat, and the arms end at the bicept. The legs continue all the way down to the ankle, or perhaps further, but they then dissapear into ankle high, flat soled boots. The neck was puncutated with a small button, and many women, seeking to ease the hold over their throats, had unbuttoned it, and folded it down to rest upon their collar bones.

Her teeth seek out her full bottom lip, and her brows knit together. Turning a critical eye on her own outfitting, as well as that of her comrades, she cannot help but feel very out of place. Her torso is clad in a white, flowy, off the shoulder peasant top that ends just above her belly button, and her bottom half in a free-flowing skirt of deep reds, blues, yellows and oranges. The rest of those who hail from her village are dressed in the same manner, with a few differences between people, according to personal flair.

i 'Dress conservitivly', they say! But how was I suppose to know I was to dress as though a tempting mourner! /i Her brows knit further together, a deep sigh being expelled.

"Hira...did you know that we were suppose to dress like..."

"Brooding sluts? No, I didn't." Her voice is loud - louder than Desari would have prefered it to be when making the comment - and draws a series of scowls and vulgar motions. In reply, Hira simply puts on the most antagonistic smile she has in her arsinel and gives a small wave. Exasperated, Desari leans backwards and puts her hand over her face, effectivly coming across as the maryter.

"No...that wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean?" The voice is that of The Delegate who had called the names outside, and she stands over them, one of her hands on her hips while the other hangs infront of her, dark material draped carefully over her extended appendage. She is a non discript woman, her chestnut hair pulled back into an immaculate bun and her figure clad in a thick three piece suit. Her expression is one of masked irritation, her eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corners of her lips drawn down into a disapproving frown.

Desari's brain all but freezes, her mouth hanging ajar. "Uh..."

"She never knows what she's talking about - you will have to excuse her, madam." Hira offers a false smile with an equally sugary tone, purposfully drawing the negitive attention away from Desari. The Delegate simply snorts, then begins to unburden her extended arm, placing the black material in each of the new girl's laps.

"You will need to change into this directly - we will wait the truck until you do so. There are stockings and boots under your chair - you should find them to be of adequate fit." After passing out the last of the material, she stands with her arms crossed over her chest, fixing Hira with a glare. As though on cue, Hira picks up the material, allows it to unfold, and stretches it between her fingers.

"Oooh, stretchy!" Simply to irritate the woman, she starts to giggle and continues to stretch the fabric between her hands, almost daring The Delegate to make a statement. Desari allows the fabric to unfold into and she too tests the elasticity of the fabric, but instead of continuing, she unbuckles her belt and stands, quietly looking around for something to put in the eyeline of the rest of the truck so they did not have to expose themselves to complete strangers. When she is unable to find one, she turns toward The Delegate, the question on her lips.

"You must change here." Her voice is a harsh bark, the tone more of a response to Hira's needling than the question itsself. She rips the material out of Hira's hands, throws it back in her lap, then stomps past the group, garnering the attention of several of the onlooking passengers. With a shrug, Hira stands and begins to slide her skirt down her legs, entirely unaware of the others who watch. Desari, by and far more modest than Hira, turns her back on her friend, and discreetly begins to remove her clothing, trying desperatly to shield her nakedness from the rest of the passengers.

The material fights the entire way up her body, especially over the highrise of Desari's breasts and over her shoulders. She finally, however, manages to fit her entire body into the suit, and quickly unfastens the button. She turns around and gives a muted yelp, quickly putting her hand in the way of her eyes and effectivly blocking out the image of Hira, naked to the waist. Obviously slower to naviage her matured body into the suit, Hira is still fighting the material over her excessive hips and stomach, her large breasts bobbing and jiggling as she moves. She is finally able to fit herself into the constricting thing, and promptly sits down, giving a highly dramatic huff. "They had best not expect me to take this off anytime soon!"

The coment draws several quiet chuckles from the other girls of the village, each of which are in the process of changing. Desari keeps her gaze down, unable to overcome her shyness and discomfort of having other people naked hovering around her. One by one, those what she know take their seats and rebuckle their belts before reaching under their seats for the black socks and boots that are stowed there. The truck abrubtly starts forward, pitching it's occupents backward, straining against their seatbelts. Predictably, Hanna is once again latched onto Desari's arm, a loud wail ensuing.

The computerized voice once again comes over the speakers, her tone bland, yet perfect. "The Core - E.T.A. one hour."