"She wished she could be with Tongari, with Vash," came the low whisper, hitting Knives like a gust of winter air. "But she's beneath him, far beneath him, just like you, both far beneath Tongari, what a good match you are. Prolific murderer thinks he's a victim. Long-suffering victim thinks she's a murderer. How romantic."

"Aren't you supposed to be afraid of me," Knives snarled, his back turned from her as she peeked through the barn doorway.

"You thought about the bad things, but you didn't hurt me," she noted, leaning against the doorframe casually. "There's a difference. I get it now."

Knives glared into the toma stable before him and resolved to seat himself upon a large sack of feed. He let out a long breath. "Come here, Callisto, I want to ask you some things," he asked, patting beside him.

"She told me not to talk to you," Callisto replied, smirking. She stepped inside anyway, gait still a little wobbly, clothes hanging pathetically upon her thin, thin frame. Quite deliberately, she dropped herself heavily upon the feed sack beside him. "But I can do whatever I want."

"What happened to Vanessa on Earth?" he quizzed solemnly, bracing himself for the truth.

"Agent Peace; picked the battles, showed it off, respect from fear. Mines blew off her legs, ew."

"Besides that. Tell me about when they hurt her."

"Nobody hurt her. Not besides that; things were safe."

"Good." Knives relaxed for only a moment, before tensing again. Long-suffering victim? Dangers to glean from her mind? "Then, how has she suffered?"

"A little pain, a lot of loneliness on the Earth-planet. The most pain was on this planet, lots of loneliness AND pain," Callisto noted whimsically, studying a strand of her long, dirty, knotted hair. She glanced up, smiling. "You've got to leave before they get here, that's what you said. Leave, you and she, leave, she can tell you."

"Wipe that smile off your face," Knives snarled, jumping to his feet in a sudden rush of adrenaline. "My pain, her pain, it was all so FUNNY to you in the bulbs?" He shoved his hands in his pockets to remind himself not to slap her cruel little face.

"Pain wasn't funny, it was powerful," Callisto corrected, looking confused. "Powerful emotions were so interesting to us. The muscles in my face are smiling because I'm happy about humans coming. It's a separate thing."

Breath quickening, Knives' mind went back to the suffering…Vanessa. "Tell me what they did to her, on THIS planet."

Callisto shook her head. "You haven't the time; there are SO many stories! Ask her for chronological order for the worst of it; those last two times, it was only one guy each time, and she didn't get beat very badly, and they only TRIED to get inside her, unlike before-" Watching Knives suddenly dash out of the barn, Callisto turned her attention to some nearby kittens, laughing. Life in the bulb allowed her to directly feel the thoughts of those around her; outside the bulb, she hadn't yet realized that although she couldn't hear the thoughts, they were still there. The world was really numb and quiet outside her mind, as if the only mind left were hers.

Knives, on the other hand, breathed the sharp sting of life into his nostrils, felt the burn the air made in his chest, making his heart throb with pain at every beat. His imagination brought to mind images that made him feel a need to vomit. Every scar of hers had a story; he'd never let himself imagine from what. It was like his brother, he'd thought. But she wasn't Vash – not as strong, not as armed. There were things one could do to a female; things he doubted happened to Vash.

These sins tipped the scales unfavorably for humanity. This…changed things.

O

O

"Don't over-water. Don't plant seeds too close together. Don't hurt the insects or the cats. Toma stay in the barns. Only some plants are meant for eating. Picked fruit will rot, but vegetables – especially roots – can be preserved in the ground.

"If you are slaves, I am your master. However, you will live like free men unless I am told of offense, at which time you will be punished. The last of our human slaves remains here to work with you. She is Callisto; do not harm her.

"The furthest shed is full of scrap – you can use this to make your homes around the garden, as well as to build additions to the garden. Eat what you will, there is plenty. Everything else is to be sent off to the settlement.

"Behave. Your God is watching."

So finishing, Simon breathed a huff of relief. His eyes spanned the widened eyes of the slaves crowded about him. He alone led them here; the others from the settlement were too wary of angels to deliver the slaves to the garden themselves. On a lone tomas, he'd led over a hundred slaves through the flats and desert land. Trudging along on foot, they'd been in a hush, praying aloud. Luckily, they'd been given enough water and food chips to survive the journey.

Upon arrival at the garden, he'd gone on ahead to confirm that the angels were gone before the slaves would approach. Callisto met him at the garden entryway, where he found Knives' letter. A hundred paper-bound volumes lined several shelves there, in the battered shack, which Knives instructed Simon to study, read, and teach to the slaves. The letter, he was to read immediately to them, before letting them in the garden. Simon obediently followed orders, confident that if what was said of the angels were true, then doing Knives' bidding would bode well in the afterlife – perhaps Simon was to be the lucky man to not burn in hellfire for being in angels' presence.

Silence fell upon the huddled masses before him. He shifted his weight upon the creaking barrel he stood upon. "So spoke the angels!" he announced, beaming. "Under their protection, you are all free here! Come inside, carefully, let's see the garden!"

Smiles broke upon faces and weary feet shuffled forward as they reverently entered in a line behind a humming, smiling Callisto. Their eyes and faces lit up, life coming back to them, as they breathed the humid air and let the greenery envelope them. They piled their shoes at the entryway and stepped delicately upon the grasses, barely daring to touch anything but long enough to pluck a bit of produce to devour with a hunger unlike any they knew they had.

Simon stood in the midst of this, leaning against a mighty tree, surrounded by singing, laughing, crying, and the joy he hadn't realized slaves could possess.