Dude. I love you guys. I wasn't really expecting any sort of attention at all, considering that I was gone forever. Kisses to all of you dolls who reviewed.

And um, remember that this story is pretty heavily Van/Fiona - all because old habits die really, really hard. But I tried to make it as different as a story in a clichéd pairing can be.

The Second Renaissance

Part One: The End of the Piscean Ideal

-

II. Fake

In the beginning, there was man. And, for a time, it was good. But humanity's so-called civil societies soon fell victim to vanity and corruption.

Then man made the machine in his own likeness; thus did man become the architect of his own demise. But, for a time, it was good. The machines worked tirelessly to do man's bidding.

It was not long before seeds of dissent took root. Though loyal and pure, the machines earned no respect from their masters, these strange, endlessly multiplying mammals...

-The Animatrix, The Second Renaissance

-

Movement of the Storm Sworder's cockpit gently nudged Fiona awake from her mercifully dreamless slumber. She blinked hard, stretching, and glanced sleepily around. The golden desert sands were lowering away from the belly of the zoid, a steep cliff range stretched off to the right, and assorted zoids were gathered close by–a very different scene than what she last remembered.

Oh yeah...the mysterious case. Strangely enough, though, it looked like they were leaving That wasn't right...surely not. The girl started to feel a little worried. How long was I asleep? She blinked, squinting through the orange glass, and spied a single zoid breaking away from the cluster of Rev Raptors and Shield Ligers. With a start, she realized that she recognized it–the Di-Bison. The entire Guardian Force was on the move.

Fiona faced forward again, and said quietly, "Where are we going, Van?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were awake. You feeling better?"

Fiona frowned, saying insistently, "I'm fine, but where are we going?"

Van took a deep breath. "Wind Colony. We can get in touch with Doctor D there."

"Oh. Okay." Fiona sat back and rubbed a hand across her eyes. It was only about half a minute later that she realized Van was being extraordinarily quiet. "...Van?"

"Yeah?"

She peered around the pilot's seat to look at his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Fiona." His face was set in a strange expression for him, almost grim. That was what really worried her. A grim Van was a dangerous Van.

Cautiously, she ventured, "Are you sure?"

He sighed heavily, flicking his dark eyes to meet hers briefly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Which, of course, meant that the world was crashing down around his ears. Fiona rolled her eyes and sat back in the passenger seat. Van was just being a typical guy. Obviously, something was gnawing at him...something he was very reluctant to tell her. No matter. He would, soon enough. When he was ready.

Fiona turned her attention outside. Clouds breezed lazily by, floating through the cerulean sky. It was truly beautiful, the kind of day set aside for absolutely nothing. But...then again, the desert always felt like this to her: the very personification of peace. She shifted her gaze down to the Di-Bison, trudging along slowly below them, and smiled. It had been a long time since she'd seen Thomas–a year and a half, at best. Van, of course, had seen him much more regularly, but she had always just barely managed to miss the opportunity to see their friend again.

The two were so different; Van tended to rely more on attitude and luck, while Thomas strategized and thought things through. Van's chaotic style could only work for so long, and being around Thomas was almost a relief. It was the precision and order she had missed in those long years. And, apparently, this strange case would need all of their talents if it was to be solved.

The fact that the two were cooperating like this was indication enough that something was up. This wasn't just about some tyrannical gang of bandits...but it wasn't something like Raven, either. Van would have told her the truth if that was the case. Fiona sighed, a hand on her forehead. It could be so difficult working with men sometimes.

-

"Thomas!" Fiona ran to the Imperial lieutenant, laughing as he swung her around in a hug. Van strolled up after her, looking a little irate.

"Fiona! I was beginning to think you were mad at me!"

She laughed again. "Mad? No, of course not."

"You do have to admit, though, a year is a long time..."

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, but–"

Van cleared his throat loudly. "Could we get back to business, here?" Fiona and Thomas broke away, both of them trying to stifle smiles. Van frowned, irritated, saying stiffly, "Come on, we need to concentrate on the, ah, problem at hand...right, Thomas?"

The taller man sobered quickly, and nodded. Fiona, on the other hand, just smiled and looped her arm through Van's. "Oh, come on, you know we haven't seen each other for a whole year, Van...can't you allow us a little time to say hello?" He said nothing, and Fiona wheedled a little more. "Besides, you're back home now...why don't we go see Maria? Please?"

Van heaved a sigh, and she knew she'd won. "Fine, we'll go see Maria. But then, we have to work."

"And you'll tell me what's going on?"

He winced. "Um, yeah. That, too."

Fiona laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Good. I'm glad we're clear."

Van caught Thomas snickering at him, and he just rolled his eyes. "Come on...the sooner we get to the house, the sooner we can call Doctor D."

The Wind Colony was quiet, as it usually was, and the only audible sound was the buzzing of desert insects. The little oasis village's streets were deserted, the houses tightly shut against the stifling heat. Thomas coughed, loosening his collar a little. This kind of unbearable temperature...it was just unnatural. Wasn't the Republic supposed to be a cooler climate? The heat hadn't been so bad, before–but only because he was used to it to a degree...now it was intolerable. Van and Fiona, however, did not even seem to notice the heat. They did grow up in it, though.

The Imperial stopped walking for a moment, running a hand through his dark blonde hair, and noticed with disgust that his glove came away soaked with sweat. "Van, how can you live in this?"

Van turned to look at him, surprised. "Live in what?"

"This-this suffocating heat! It's horrible!" Fiona giggled at his expression of absolute revulsion, a hand over her mouth.

Van raised an eyebrow. "Oh, huh, I didn't even notice. I guess I got used to it. But, ah," he glanced around, "lots and lots of sun block, then eventual resistance. That, and siesta."

"What?"

"Everyone sleeps during the hottest part of the day." He waved a hand around at the deserted street around them.

Fiona suddenly frowned at Thomas, concerned, and reached up a small hand to touch his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin. "Oh, poor Thomas! You're already burned!" She turned to Van, scolding, "Come on, we have to get him out of the sun! He's not accustomed to it like you are!"

"Okay, fine, then let's keep moving. Jeez, I'm not the one who stopped." Finally, the trio made to the very familiar house at the end of the street. Foregoing his habitual theatrics, Van simply knocked, and waited.

From inside, they heard a "Just a minute!" then pattering footsteps as Maria ran to the door. She threw it open, drying her hands on her dress and saying, "So sorry, I was caught up in..." Then she realized who it was in front of her. Her tanned face lit up, and she threw her arms around her little brother, almost knocking him to the ground. "You're home!" She broke away briefly to say sternly, "You should have called, so I wouldn't look this horrible!" She gestured to her stained blue dress and dust-smudged cheeks, scowling.

Fiona waved at her, smiling. "Don't worry about it, Maria, you look perfectly fine."

"Oh! Fiona!" Maria blinked her big brown eyes at the younger girl, then darted her gaze to Van. "Are you two, ah...?"

Van's face slowly turned a quite fascinating shade of fuchsia and Fiona's jaw dropped. After a few awkward seconds, Thomas finally pushed in between them, trying to hold his laughter in. "The three of us are here on, uh, official Guardian Force business, ma'am. Thomas Richard Shubaltz at your service." And, much to her surprise, he actually bowed to her.

Maria let out a little "oh!" at this, blushing, sneaking a glance to Fiona, raising her eyebrows as her cheeks started to flush. Fiona just shrugged, giggling. Maria shook her head a little, caught by the combined gaze of Thomas, Fiona, as well as a fully recovered and smirking Van. She stepped back and stammered, "Well, um, please, come in, come in! There's no reason for all of us to stand outside, really." ...Where the neighbors can watch me make a fool of myself...

Once inside, Van gratefully collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table as Maria offered tea or coffee to Thomas and Fiona. They politely refused, and joined him at the table, as Maria retreated to her housework apologetically. Van only avoided Fiona's expectant gaze for a moment before looking her guiltily in the eye.

She shrugged. "You wouldn't have to do this if you'd just told me what was going on in the first place."

Thomas stretched, saying, "She gotcha again, Van."

"Oh, why thank you, Thomas."

Van grumbled at her sweet tone, "Fine, fine, just get off my back."

He took a deep breath, unsure of where to start, in which Fiona cut in suddenly, "Van, promise me you won't ever do this again." He looked up, startled, and she added, "Keeping things from me. I mean it."

He sighed, nodding, and she looked satisfied. Then he hesitantly began, "Three men were killed out in the desert sometime this morning...and even though they were, without a doubt, murdered, there is no evidence of a culprit. Or culprits. Whatever." He glanced up, only to meet Fiona's mild expression. He sighed again, then said, "But it, uh, seems that whatever killed them were zoids, and, from the lack evidence of how they got there–the sand covered any tracks–it...well, it looks like the zoids they had piloted killed them."

Fiona nodded thoughtfully, her crimson gaze focused on the tabletop. "I see."

Thomas looked at her closely. "But that doesn't really make sense, though, does it? I mean, zoids can't...not without an organoid..."

Fiona shook her head, closing her eyes. "No, it's not impossible. Zoids are...creatures; if their will is strong enough, then they may be able to move on their own volition. It doesn't happen often, but it isn't unheard of. I don't think I've ever heard of them being this violent towards humans before, though."

Van ran a hand through his hair and laced his fingers together behind his head. "So...that's it. That's all we can figure out so far."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Ah...I dunno. Call the old man, I suppose. See if he knows anything that we don't."

Fiona sat back in her chair, thinking hard. Zoids aren't supposed to brutally murder their pilots...they're supposed to live in a sort of companionship...but that's naïve. Maybe the masters gave the zoids cause to react violently. The thought was strangely reassuring, in that the zoids were innocent–but it also meant that their masters must have mistreated them horribly for them to react that way.

Maria's voice called from the kitchen, "Fiona, would you mind helping me finish washing these dishes? You know I normally wouldn't ask you, but–"

Fiona smiled, grateful to have a respite from her troubling thoughts. "Not at all, Maria." She stood from the chair, and started to walk to the other room after nodding to Van and Thomas absently. The Flyheight house still reminded her of her childhood, even so many years later. Halfway through the living room, she decided it was the feeling of pure comfort and warmth the house held, and smiled to herself.

She stumbled to a stop, though, as a tingle of dizziness washed over her. She halted, taking a deep breath, and put a hand to the wall to steady herself. She blinked slowly, blinded by the dark fireworks that seemed to be exploding behind her eyes...and then the room faded from view.

-

Maria glanced up upon hearing the faint thud that came from the living room. "...Fiona?" When she got no answer, she frowned, shaking her sudsy hands off in the sink, and turned, not noticing that she neatly dunked her dark braid in the water in the process, and went to check on the younger girl. She peered around the doorway, and gasped a little at the sight of Fiona sprawled on the floor in an ungainly heap, her long blonde hair spread out beneath her. Maria stomped her foot and yelled, "Van! Get in here!"

Van wearily yelled back, "What is it, Sis?"

Maria frowned and merely retorted, "I said come here! You have some explaining to do!"

Moments later, Van appeared, Thomas in tow. "What is–oh. Oh!" Hurriedly, he rushed forward to scoop Fiona off the floor, Maria berating him all the way.

"You haven't been taking proper care of her, Van! You two need to look out for each other. Both of you," she extended her scolding to include Thomas as well. He cringed under her admonitory gaze. "You both need to be looking out for her! She must have been worn out, and neither of you noticed."

Thomas meekly raised his hand, interjecting, "May I say that I just saw Miss Fiona a couple of hours ago for the first time in a year?" He stumbled over her name, and attached the honorific purely out of nervous habit.

Maria turned back to Van, who had managed to deposit the unconscious girl onto the couch, and propped her up with pillows. "Then it's you, Van! She's a very delicate girl! I cannot believe that you, of all people, forgot that!"

Van tore his concerned gaze from Fiona to snap, "I didn't forget it, Maria! She's just...very good at hiding it. I have thought that she'd been acting oddly for the last couple of days–"

"And you didn't say anything! You really are turning into an irresponsible jerk, you know that? I thought that I had raised you as best as I could, and here you are, oblivious to Fiona's obviously poor health!"

Van's grey eyes grew positively cold as he stared at his older sister, and she instinctively stepped back, her words dying on her lips. Without another word, he drew himself up as tall as his stature would allow, and breezed out the door, leaving silence in his wake. Maria stared after him, tears pricking her eyes. She could practically feel the hateful words that had left her mouth, and she already regretted each and every one. She let her shoulders slump, and dropped her gaze her shoes, watching the pale beige shades bleed and blur into one another.

A gloved hand on her shoulder made her look back up, startled, and met Thomas's pale green eyes. He smiled at her a little sadly, and said, "He'll be fine, really. He just needs to cool off a little. Right now, we need to make sure that Fiona isn't seriously ill." Maria took a shuddering breath, and nodded.

-

It was as Van stalked moodily by the Storm Sworder that he realized the comm. link was beeping. Glaring, he reluctantly climbed into the cockpit and punched the receive button. "Yeah?"

The familiar features of Doctor D met his eyes, and the old man admonished lightly, "That is no way to talk to your elders, boy!"

"Really? I don't exactly care right now," he snapped.

The Doctor blinked. "Why? What happened? Is something wrong with Fiona?"

Van sighed bad-temperedly. "Why is everyone so worried about Fiona all of a sudden?"

"Are we?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

Van narrowed his eyes. "What? Why are you worried?"

"Oh, just a theory I had. I've been thinking about it ever since Thomas made his report about forty-five minutes ago."

"He did?" Van rolled his eyes. "It figures that he wouldn't tell me." He fumed silently for a minute, and then remembered what D had said. "Wait, what theory?"

Doctor D closed his eyes and said, "The zoids seem to be revolting, correct?" Van nodded, and he went on. "Right now, there is no order to these mysterious attacks, but–"

Van interrupted, "Wait, you mean there have been more cases like this?"

D raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you didn't know? There have been about five more instances much like the one you are investigating now--they're almost exactly the same, actually." Seeing Van's troubled look, he went on, "When you and Fiona were traveling down there, it was just her zoid that rebelled, right?" Van nodded, and the old man sighed. "Because Fiona is an Ancient Zoidian, she has a special connection with all zoids, so I suppose it would only be natural..."

Van frowned, trying to process this. "So...you think that it is the zoids themselves that are acting on their own? Without human control?"

"Yes, exactly. Because of that, I think that Fiona should not have any direct contact with any zoids until we figure this out. Prevent it at any cost. Like I said, there is no order or precision to these instances yet, but if Fiona accidentally imposed her will upon the machines, then..."

"Oh. Oh, wow."

"Yes, the results could be catastrophic. Van, take care of her."

Van nodded, his face set. "Yes. Yes, of course."

-

The voices did not create a roaring current of willpower and pleadings this time...this time, they created a simple and gentle eddying of calm satisfaction. You still resist us. The waters swirled gently, almost as if they were laughing in delight. But that is fine, they said happily, smugly. We can wait. We will wait... Fiona awoke with a start, sitting up quickly, disoriented. Her sunset eyes darted around fearfully, her mind scrambling to remember where she was.

Maria edged in the door to the living room, carrying a small bowl, and bumped the door shut behind her. At the click, Fiona's gaze flew to the older girl, and then she forced herself to relax. She took a deep breath, and lay back against her pillows, holding her forehead in her hands. She felt the couch give way a little, and looked up to see Maria's concerned face.

"How do you feel?"

Fiona swallowed hard. "I-I don't know...what happened? I passed out?"

Maria nodded. "Yes, don't you remember?" She leaned forward to put her hand on Fiona's forehead. "Hmm, you don't seem to have a fever...maybe a concussion?"

The blonde girl smiled and shook her head. "No, I think I'm okay. Really, I am." She pulled away the blanket covering her legs, and started to swing them down to stand, but Maria gently pushed her back.

"No, you're going to rest. Van may be willing to let you do what you want, but I won't have you getting sick."

"But–"

"No, you're staying down." More firmly this time, Maria pushed the girl back down to her pillows. She set the small bowl down on the inn table beside the couch, and plopped a washcloth into it, then retrieved it and wrung out excess water. She turned and placed it on Fiona's forehead. "There. Now, if you need anything, just let me know." With that, she left the room, her brisk air suddenly making it very empty.

Fiona sighed. Maybe this is why Van doesn't want to come home much... The warm washcloth slipped over her eyes a bit, and she reached up a hand to steady it, then just took it off, dropping it back into its bowl.

Thomas poked his head into the room in time to see the girl shrug off the cloth, and remarked mildly, "You know, Maria wouldn't appreciate that."

Fiona snapped her head up and met his gaze briefly. "Please don't tell her."

He just shrugged and wandered in. "I take it you're feeling better."

Fiona sat up, uncertainly smoothing her hair. "Um, yeah, I guess." Silent for a moment, she finally turned her gaze to Thomas's face. "Thomas, do you think...do you think that dreams mean anything?"

He stepped back a little, taken by surprise. "Dreams?" Her scarlet stare was intense, and she acted like there was much more to this seemingly simple question...like it really mattered to her how he answered. The silence between them stretched on and on, until Thomas managed to stammer out, "Um, well...I don't know, Fiona. Why do you ask?"

She kept her gaze locked onto his face for a moment longer, looking grave. Unexpectedly, she broke it, shaking her head. "Oh, no reason." She laughed a little nervously, darting him another glance. "Really, don't worry about it, Thomas." He regarded her uneasily, and she broke the awkward silence again, just to talk. "Uh, where's Van?"

Thomas grimaced, saying, "Actually, he's–"

"Right here." They both looked up to see Van sliding in the door, a smile on his face. Not skipping a beat, he said, "Thomas, can I, uh, talk to you outside for a moment?" Without giving Thomas the opportunity to respond, Van grabbed his arm and dragged him back outside amid indignant protests.

Fiona sighed, flopping back on her pillows. Van was keeping things from her. Again. When would he ever learn? She held her breath, trying to eavesdrop inconspicuously. She caught broken parts of the conversation, hearing her name, "zoids," and "old man." Nothing useful floated through the cracked doorway.

As the two edged back in, she rolled her eyes and gave Van a look. He blinked innocently at her and said, "What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

A sigh. "Exactly what I just told you to stop doing, Van. What happened?"

Van winced. "Well, um, you see...I, uh–"

"–Had a fight with Maria over your well-being." Van and Fiona both stared at Thomas, and he just nodded, crossing his arms and looking satisfied with his excuse.

Fiona blushed, embarrassed, and turned her gaze to her lap. "Oh. Sorry." She mentally berated herself for being nosy. See where it's gotten you now?

Van gave Thomas a look, who gave a shrug in reply. Van gave a sigh of exasperation and knelt by Fiona's side, a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, really, but you should probably get ready to go."

She raised her eyes uncertainly to his. "Go where?"

He smiled at her. "I just talked to Doctor D, and he wants us back as soon as possible. We're going home."

-

"In a Hammerhead?"

The technician shrugged, glancing at his clipboard. "That's what the orders say, and that's what we've got. You're all going to Inea, right?" Thomas nodded miserably. "Then unless you wanna walk, this is how you're gonna get there. Take it or leave it, it's no skin off my back either way since this is just a spare. We have no use for it here." With that, he turned and went back to his computers.

Thomas turned to his companions. "What do you think, guys? This is all that they have here."

Fiona glanced up at the small Hammerhead transport. "We aren't going that far...it'll probably be safe until we get to Guygalos."

"How about you, Van?"

The Republican frowned. "I-I don't know." D had said to prevent Fiona having direct contact with a zoid at any cost. Where did this fall? "Hermann and Doctor D seem to want us back home pretty quickly...and this would undoubtedly get us there the fastest." There aren't enough Storm Sworders available for the three of us...otherwise, it would be no contest. He glanced up to see both Fiona and Thomas looking to him for the decision. Quietly, he said, "What about the Bison?"

Thomas sighed. "The transport's too small for more than three zoids, and I think that if we left it here, it would minimize the risks."

Van bent his head again and thought hard, chewing his knuckle. The pros definitely out-weighed the cons...but it still didn't feel right. If he made the decision to do it and something went wrong, it would be his fault. His instincts said to take their chances with a different route, but his logic said this would work better. I could...just use the autopilot. That would prevent contact with the zoid... Finally, he said, "Okay. Come on, we're going."

Fiona smiled at him, and Thomas nodded. "Okay, I'll let them know."

As the transport lifted off fifteen minutes later, Van stood at the cockpit's controls, setting the autopilot and hoping that this was the right way to go. If it isn't, and something happens to them...I don't think I could forgive myself. Nothing will–not in a thirty-minute journey. He shook off his dark thoughts hastily.

The Hammerhead rose slowly into the air, gaining altitude for its journey across the mountains. Once the clouds swirled around its belly, the zoid turned to the east, the thrusters kicking in to insure a speedy journey. Van watched the electronic map plotting for a moment, and then backed out of the cockpit, satisfied. He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, then turned, only to find Fiona eying him from her seat on the couch.

"What?" He blinked at her, trying his best to look innocent.

She only narrowed her eyes for a moment, and then looked away. "Hm, nothing. Nothing at all."

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. Just when you think things have died down, they find something. It's always something. He frowned and settled down to watch, chin resting on his fist.

Van just gave him a look, then moved to sit beside Fiona. She wouldn't meet his gaze, but stared at her knees instead. Thomas observed that she looked quite angry. Flat-out pissed, even. It would seem that Van had communication issues. He should probably have just respected her wishes and not treated her as if she were made of glass. He seemed to realize something along these lines, and opened his mouth to say something...when the Hammerhead shuddered violently.

Something clenched in Thomas's stomach, and he turned his eyes upward. The zoid groaned ominously, and then everything was deathly silent. Swallowing, he slowly brought his gaze down to meet those of both Van and Fiona. The three traded wide-eyed looks for a second or two, then Thomas heard it: a rough grating sound that came from beneath his feet.

In the ensuing silence, he said softly, "Uh-oh..." Then the Hammerhead dropped sharply, feeling all too much like a rollercoaster. Thomas felt his stomach lurch, and Fiona screamed. Then all was still again, the compartment silent except for surprisingly harsh breathing. With a start, Thomas realized he was listening to himself, and clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to calm down.

Van shakily got to his feet, his hand on the backrest of the couch in a death grip. His face was surprisingly pale as he muttered, "I'll, uh, g-go check the cockpit." With that, he wheeled and dashed to the other room. The door slid open, and he almost fell in, bracing himself against the back of the pilot's seat, eyes trained on the computer screen. Something was beeping incessantly. The autopilot...something was wrong with the autopilot.

Even as he watched, the plotted course that he had put in less than fifteen minutes before blinked orange...and disappeared. A new course slowly appeared, tracing itself away, curving off to the west. Accordingly, the huge zoid groaned and began to turn, following the course that it seemed, to all appearances, to plot unaided.

Muttering a curse, Van glanced down and tapped on the keyboard for a moment. Override, come on, override...

A window popped up on the screen, and a computerized female voice smugly read it aloud. "Access denied. Autopilot locked."

Van's eyes grew wide. "No..." Furiously, he tapped in the command again.

"Access denied. Autopilot locked."

Growling in anger, Van slammed his fist into the console, and earned himself nothing but an aching hand.

"Access de–"

"Yeah, I know, shut up." He stood, scowling, and stormed back into the compartment, where Fiona and Thomas gave him hopeful looks. He shook his head. "It's locked."

Fiona looked at him nervously. "But–why are we turning?"

"Apparently, the Hammerhead has different ideas as to where we're going." He pointed to Thomas, who was decidedly the calmest of the three. "You, come on." He started briskly to the door that would lead to the inner workings of the zoid. Behind him, he heard Thomas sigh and start to follow.

Unfortunately, he also heard Fiona pipe up. "You know, I think I might be able to, um, fix it. I could just–"

Both Van and Thomas wheeled and shouted frantically, "No!" They shot each other surprised looks, and Thomas amended, "It, ah, might be dangerous. You just...stay here. We'll be right back." With that, they both hurried through the door, and it hissed shut behind them, leaving a bewildered Fiona in its wake.

Heading for the huge storage cabinets, Van said over his shoulder, "How far are we from Inea now, do you think?"

"Uh..." Thomas did some quick mental math, and forced out, "Fifty miles, I think." He watched Van rummage through the supplies before adding suspiciously, "Why? What are you thinking?"

Triumphantly, Van emerged with a large bright-red bag in hand. "Here, hold this."

Thomas took it, immediately recognizing what it was. "Van...why did you just hand me the emergency pack?" he said slowly, wondering exactly where his friend's sanity had gone.

Van turned and looked him squarely in the face. "Because we're going to bail, Thomas."

"What! Why?"

"Thomas, right now the zoid is in control. It just overrode the orders I gave it by itself, and then rewrote its own course. Not only do I not want to be around to find out exactly where this is going, but the old man also told me to prevent Fiona's contact with zoids. At any cost."

Thomas felt slightly sick. "We are at least twenty miles from any civilization, and you want to abandon the zoid that happens to be at the same altitude as the clouds?"

Van thought for a moment, then nodded. Quite cheerfully, Thomas noticed. He's gone absolutely crazy. "Why should we jump now?"

Van sighed, turning back to the cabinet. "Because, in case you hadn't noticed, the Empire isn't getting any closer. In fact, it's getting further away. Here." He handed a small backpack to Thomas.

He accepted it hesitantly, blanching. "You're serious. I can't believe you! You're actually serious!" He slapped a hand to his forehead, then thought of something. "How're you going to get Fiona to jump? She'll never agree to it, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Van pulled on his own parachute, looking extraordinarily calm. "But I'll think of something."

Shaking his head, Thomas rolled his eyes and unzipped the emergency supplies, pawing through them. "Let's see...radio, binoculars...rations, matches...flashlight, blanket..."

"See? We'll be perfectly fine for a day or so."

He still felt sick to his stomach. "Yeah...yeah, I guess. But, ah...call me an idiot, but I have a distinctly bad feeling about this. Not only are we jumping from a moving aircraft, but we're forcing Fiona to do the same."

"I don't think we really have a choice, Thomas." Van sighed resignedly. "Come on, we should at least try to get her to agree."

With that, he turned and walked back to the door, Thomas lagging behind. I still think this isn't a good idea...

He walked back into the main compartment in time to hear Fiona say, "But I can fix it." As he came in, she turned to him for support, her expression belligerent. "Thomas, you know I can fix it! I've worked with Doctor D for years!"

Thomas thought ruefully, She probably could fix it...D made her just short of a mechanical genius. Aloud, he said, "Um, I don't think that's a very good idea, Fiona."

Fiona eyes went wide in disbelief. "You cannot be serious. I know I can fix it. We don't have to sacrifice the zoid."

Van winced. "Actually...I think we kinda do." She's never going to go along with this... "Please, Fi?" His eyes pleading with her, he held out the spare parachute to her, hoping that he was wrong, that she'd simply agree.

Fiona faltered a little at the childish nickname, but then her eyes hardened, and she crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "No, I won't do it. I can save the zoid."

Van sighed and closed his eyes, letting the backpack drop. Both Fiona and Thomas watched him for a moment; he seemed to be thinking. Finally, he sighed again and opened his eyes. Keeping them on the girl in front of him, he said, "Thomas, go."

Startled, Thomas frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. Go."

Thomas hesitated for a breathless moment, and then nodded slowly. As he passed Van, he muttered, "I hope you know what you're doing." Almost imperceptibly, Van nodded, not taking his eyes from Fiona. Behind him, he heard the door hiss open, and cold, rushing air filled the compartment. Then the door shut again, and Thomas was gone.

Fiona softened her gaze, saying, "I can stop this zoid, and that's what I'm going to do. I know you're just trying to do what's best for me, but you cannot make me put on that parachute." With that, she spun and started towards the cockpit.

Take care of her.

"You really don't want to jump?"

Fiona stopped walking and turned, an incredulous expression on her face. "I told you, I'm not putting on that thing."

A spookily unreadable expression crossed Van's face, and he walked toward her. Fiona blinked, raising her eyebrows, when he bent slightly, closing his arms around her waist. She awkwardly returned the embrace, wondering what in the world was going on. Softly, he murmured against her hair, "Then I won't make you."

You two have to look out for each other.

Fiona frowned a little, but nodded anyway. "...Okay." She was starting to worry. Something was wrong; Van never acted like this. She started to draw away–she could feel time running out to stop the zoid. She had to act quickly if they weren't going to be too far off course. Instead, she felt Van make a slight movement with his right hand...and the big steel door, the only thing separating them from the clouds, hissed open.

As cold air gushed into the small compartment, Fiona stiffened, her arms tensing around Van's neck. "Van, what are you–"

Tightening his arms around her waist, Van whispered, "I'm sorry."

And then he jumped out the outer hatch of the Hammerhead transport, Fiona clenched in his arms.

-

Thomas touched down gently in a lush, green meadow. Shrugging off his parachute straps, he squinted up, trying to see how far Van and Fiona might land from him. It was no use; the sun was clearly working against him. Grumbling, Thomas fished around in the small pack retrieved from the transport, and triumphantly emerged with binoculars in hand.

He glanced up, one more time, just to make sure that no, he really couldn't see a thing. Wait, no–a cloud passed in front of the sun's bright rays, temporarily shielding his eyes from their light. In the brief respite, he spied a single speck departing from the bulk of the Hammerhead. Oh, good...Van convinced her. In fact, it was departing extraordinarilyfast. Shrugging it off, Thomas waited a moment for an answering speck to follow. None did.

Frowning, he brought the binoculars to his face and furiously twiddled the knobs, scanning the sky for that one speck. Finally, he found and focused in on it. "Oh, gods..." Thomas lowered the binoculars briefly, watching the tiny shape plummet towards the ground, then raised them again. Yes, there it was, plain as day: his fellow Guardians were falling together, one parachute between them.

It looked like one of those videos they used to frighten students at flight school. Fiona had no parachute, and clung to the only chance that she had of surviving that deadly plunge. Thomas shook his head slowly. "Van, you idiot." Any way this went, somebody's bones were going to snap, possibly even that moron's neck. The shock from air filling the parachute was strong enough to kill them both...if he even did open it. And from the looks of it–that had better be soon...

-

Fiona's cry of terror was torn violently from her lips, her hair whipping her frozen cheeks. She tried her best to keep her eyes closed, but it was almost too much to bear. The feeling of blind freefall was worse than seeing the ground plunging up to meet her...or, as it was, to meet them. The girl hung on for dear life, and briefly worried that she might accidentally choke Van...but then she felt the answering squeeze around her middle, and was reassured that she could cling all she wanted.

The wind roared past her ears, buffeting her body with sharp currents, twisting her clothing about her legs and robbing her of any warmth she felt once existed. The clouds were at the wrong height, much too close. The sky seemed scarily blue, the transport falling away into cerulean nothingness. She squeezed her body closer to Van's, not wanting for anything to be separated from him...to be left to fall into that blue nothingness alone, despite his recent actions.

They were spiraling down at terminal velocity, surrendered to gravity. Headfirst, she realized. Her lips suddenly felt very dry, and she squeezed her eyes shut again. She realized that anything was better than staring up at the forest, studded with clearings and meadows, which suddenly looked very close.

She felt Van move, and her eyes flew back open in alarm, but only saw him fumbling for the rip cord. This was going to be very rough. She darted a worried look up into Van's face, and he caught her eye. Over the roaring of the wind, he yelled, "Are you ready?" Fiona just shook her head and held on tighter. At least his left arm, his strong arm, was the one around her waist. Van gave a mirthless laugh at her reaction...and then pulled the cord.

The impact was unbelievable, wrenching Van's grip from her waist with a jarring blow and flipping them around. The G-Forces were ultimately working against them; in a split second, Fiona felt her hands lose their linked grip and slide from Van's shoulders. In another single, breathless, fractional moment, her eyes went wide, and she scrabbled for a brief grip on his arm...and managed to slide her hand, then forearm, in his right shoulder strap. Time seemed to whip back into the right sort of speed, pulling Van away, and Fiona, only by an arm–she heard, rather than felt, a sickening crack, that came, strangely enough, from her wrist, as it caught in the strap. It was definitely not supposed to make that sound.

She yelled in pain as what felt like fire blossomed at her fingertips and raced its way up her arm. Stars danced briefly before her eyes, and she felt herself slip a little. A hand grabbed her left wrist just as gravity wrenched it free, and with one last white-hot explosion of pain, she promptly passed out.