Startropics: Follow The Southern Cross

by Erico

The time: June, 1990. The place: Coralcola Island. After defeating Zoda and saving the Argonian race, what is there left for Michael Jones to do?

4. Whispering Waves

STARTROPICS: FOLLOW THE SOUTHERN CROSS

By Eric 'Erico' Lawson

CHAPTER THREE: WHISPERING WAVES

"Michael D. Jones…aah, yes, I remember him. An adolescent by now, and I've heard through the rumor mill he's making quite a name for himself as a confident baseball player in high school. But he wasn't always like that, no. When he was younger, he was what my profession would call 'overly sensitive'…He had quite a time maintaining a regular sleep schedule, and it frustrated his parents to no end. But what can you do…when a boy is plagued by ceaseless nightmares?"

-Dr. Samantha Cole, psychiatrist, Seattle Wellness Institute

---

He was there again. The same dark corridors as before, with the same warning sirens blaring. The stench of foreign metal and his sweat and the acrid ozone from overloading systems made the air almost impossible to breathe, and it was only by sheer force of will that he was able to overcome his instincts and manage gasping breaths of the oxygen poor mixture.

Yet more of the fast crawling piles of tentacled maggots came scurrying towards him, down the wide steps lit by the dim emergency lighting. Fighting back the rising panic within him, he whipped out his Super Nova and crushed the screeching demons into lifeless mush.

Not again…not again…A part of him cried, briefly aware that something was drastically wrong with this. Yet he forged on, the sirens driving him towards destiny.

The door shut behind him, and a dark laugh echoed through the dark chamber. His blood froze cold in his veins as he turned towards the sound of laughter, recognizing it instantly as the chortle of a creature he thought he had destroyed…of a being, a monster, who had assaulted his very mind only a few passageways ago. He felt his muscles freeze up when the laughter turned into a bestial scream, almost a howl. He readied his Super Nova again, staring into the darkness to his right. He could see nothing and heard only the sound of wet and plodding footsteps. Footsteps separated by moments of silence met by crashing weight landing home on metal tiling.

"You will regret your foolhardiness, boy.

A flash of something that didn't belong in the darkness caught his eye, and a massive trunk of a leg emerged into the dim lighting.

The rest came into focus as his eyes adjusted, and his terror reached new levels. A malignant being, with short and stumplike legs, powerful clawed arms, and a massive mouth lined with fangs that stretched to eternity and back was looking back at him, laughing in a strange warble.

"Nobody can defeat ZODA!!" The alien monstrosity bellowed, lunging towards the boy with fangs snarling. The boy screamed and backpedaled away, and the alien reared his head back. "Especially not you…Mike Jones of Earth!"

Mike threw his Super Nova with a force he didn't think his arms capable of…yet it did nothing but bounce off of the thick hide of the beast called Zoda…no, Nightmare Zoda…

Then came the screams and the pain…Zoda plucked him from his alcove with the ease one might remove a gnat, dragging a claw across his chest and leaving a long gash. Unable to fight back any more, Mike lay limp and helpless as the shock set in.

And then came the voice. Not the one his ears heard, but the one that spoke to his mind, skipping all translations and leaving nothing but raw thought and emotion.

You were a fool to think you could destroy me….Too late will your realization come of how futile your efforts truly were!

Zoda jerked his jaw forward, ripping into Mike's pitching arm, and the boy wailed as he felt a warm sensation dribbling down his arm. The sirens of the self-destructing spaceship blared in the background, noticed but barely heard.

You could not save them, Mike, you never really could to begin with…No, you are just a simple child who came for a vacation. Now your rambunctious spirit has brought you here to me…to pain and anguish. Perhaps now you wish that you were still back fishing…or even back in Seattle, where there would be no excitement, but you wouldn't have ended up here.

Zoda seemed to smirk as Mike gasped for air, squeezing his hand tighter around the boy's throat. Slowly, Zoda walked him over to the edge of the large platform, dangling the earthling over the chasm between ground and raised metallic pillar. Easily, Zoda reached a clawed hand about Mike's waist, pulling from Mike's pocket the two magic cubes he had stolen from the spaceship. Despite his struggling, Mike could not free himself. And still, Zoda's voice, the one that spoke into his mind itself, continued on in its dark tone.

Now then, we shall put an end to your little rescue attempt…And say hello to oblivion for me, terrestrial. It's been waiting for you to take my place.

Therein was the true darkness of Zoda; Mike trembled not at the scratch in his voice, nor the claws that punctured his throat and gushed his vital fluids down his gullet, silencing whatever final screams he might have offered.

It was the calm nature with which he committed his barbaric acts, the same indifference that even now, made the invader view Jones not as an enemy, but a nuisance to be swept away.

Zoda did not refuse him his fears; the towering beast of a monster released his grasp and wetly removed his bloodied fingertips from the boy's throat, even as bright red liquid bubbled up and frothed in Mike's mouth.

Mike felt himself fall down into the crevasse of the spaceship, falling down and down to the lowest levels below…

As he reached terminal velocity, the barely conscious teenager realized he could no longer scream. Even if he could have, nobody could hear him.

The darkness of the spaceship enfolded him as he plummeted into its maw, and the last thing he heard was a final defiant warble of the emergency klaxons echoing above.

---

June 26th, 1990 A.D.

4:27 A.M.

Mike snapped up from his bed, a hand at his throat as a terrified squeak came out. He realized he was hyperventilating, and he also realized that he had once again had the same nightmare that had come every night for far too long. But even in knowing that, he still could not shake off the terror, nor stop the trembling that even now made the bed almost rattle from his vibrations.

Slowly, he ran a hand along the length of his throat, feeling for any sign of a wound. Of course, it was as unharmed as it had always been, he tried to remind himself. But despite the reality that dreams could not harm a person, the reality he felt left him sensing the screaming wounds where Zoda's claws had pierced through into his esophagus. It made it all the more difficult to breathe, but more than that was the invaded feeling that wouldn't leave him.

"Dreams." Mike whispered, keeping his eyes open as he drew in another ragged breath. "Just dreams." He looked around his room, trying to convince himself that the events aboard Zoda's spaceship had been weeks ago. No, the Argonians were safe…Zoda was dead. And he had not been dropped to his death after having his throat ripped out.

"DARNIT!!." Mike cursed, slamming a balled fist against the headboard of his bed. He pushed the covers off of himself, realizing that once again there would be no falling back to sleep. Not tonight. Not any night.

Not since four days after he had finished his Trial of the Southern Cross.

Fear gave way to anger and frustration, as it often did. He pulled off the shirt from the day before and glared at the mirror in his room before turning on the shower spigot and jumping into the full blast stream of tepid water that woke up his body. He just stood there, facing the needles that stung his scalp and shoulders, letting the water wash over him without thinking of shampoo or soap.

No, the dulling sensation of having his skin blasted off of him was far more therapeutic right now.

"Why…" He murmured to himself, a question inaudible over the roar of the showerhead. He said why to question many things.

Why he had that particular nightmare over and over.

Why this vacation had gone so horribly awry.

Why his Uncle had invited him here in the first place…

Why there had to be stupid rules for Argonian royalty and how they conducted themselves.

And why…most importantly…

Why he'd never realized his feelings sooner.

"Damnit." He swore fiercely, not caring how crude the word sounded. He was angry and terrified and confused all at the same time, and he didn't know how to resolve any of those emotions. He reached a hand up and turned the water spigot off again, stepping out of the shower and going over to the sink. Not bothering to dry off, he simply stared at himself in the mirror, his normally ruffled brown hair dripping down over his eyes.

"Hero." He muttered. He shook his head again and thought of another title. "Starseer." He shut his eyes. "Kyrchai…Schraklik…"

He opened them up and put a hand to the mirror. "Mike."

Mike reached for a towel and began to dry off. "Am I any of those…none of them…??"

Five minutes later, he emerged from his room again in a fresh set of clothes that was the same white t-shirt and blue jeans he always seemed to wear. His hair was still a little unkempt, but it would be some time before it became truly aggravating to work with. Acceptable in his judgement.

Meandering towards the kitchen, he was surprised to find the light already on, and his uncle at the table calmly drinking a cup of coffee and fiddling with a bowl of dry cereal.

"Uncle Steve?" Mike asked in a surprised voice, stepping into the light. Dr. Jones looked up, recognizing his presence for the first time with a surprised look.

"Mike, what are you doing up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep." Mike offered simply, going over to the faucet and running himself a glass of water. "But what about you?"

"Aah, today is the day when I begin my trip." Dr. Jones replied, taking a long draw from his java. "Or have you forgotten that's why I've stockpiled Sub-C so heavily??"

"Yeah." Mike remembered, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not thinking too clearly right now."

"Hmm." His Uncle mused, looking up to the clock. "Is that because of the time…or last night?"

Mike said nothing, and his relative harrumphed with a small smirk. "Thought as much."

"Uncle Steve, I have to know something…"

"What's that, my dear nephew?"

"Why did…why did you bring me here?" Mike asked, a stony expression on his face.

"What, to Coralcola?"

"Yes." Mike confirmed harshly. "Ever since I got back…ever since I saved the Argonians, I've had plenty of doubts. And maybe I've tried to ignore them for too long, but…why invite me? Did you know that any of this was going to happen, Uncle? All of this…this bogus quest?!"

Dr. Jones stared blankly back at him, and Mike continued to fume off his frustration. "I thought you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart…but now I'm wondering if you didn't have another reason. Was this the dream vacation I thought it'd be, or were you just using me all along?"

"You're troubled." Dr. Jones surmised.

"Wonderfully obvious guess there." Mike snapped tersely.

"Well, then I won't mince words. Mike, I didn't intend to make you the savior of an alien race, if that's what you're implying. I didn't mean to put you through a bizarre journey to rescue me from the clutches of Zoda. It just happened. Did I intend to show you the ruins? Yes. Your father always said there was a part of you beyond sports, a curiosity that motivated you to do strange things. But that was it." He finished the last of his coffee and began to dive into his cereal. "So there. There's your answer. It doesn't exactly help you to vent…and it doesn't aid your troubled mind any. But that is the truth of it."

The boy pursed his lips for a moment, then sighed and walked over to the table to sit across from his Uncle.

"Are you going to be all right?" Dr. Jones asked, a concerned tone finally occupying his voice.

"I'll live." Mike answered hollowly. "I just gotta keep moving, that's all." His Uncle stroked at his chin for a long moment before speaking again.

"Say, Mike…How would you feel about tagging along with me on this trip?"

"Pardon?" Mike blinked, looking up. "Tagging along?"

"You know I'm going back to the ruins…well, I might need your help. It's a difficult trip to make alone, and Baboo isn't exactly feeling like himself lately." Dr. Jones reset his glasses. "Besides…it'll get you away from Coralcola for a while. What do you say?"

Mike looked down at the table for a moment, his eyes blinking at their own pace as he thought long and hard.

"Well?" His Uncle prodded again.

"I…I don't know." Mike said, his response an honest one. "I'm…yes, things aren't the greatest right now, but…" He looked up. "I…have to go do something. How soon are you leaving?"

"Within the hour." Dr. Jones answered. "But what do you have to do?"

"I…" Mike began, pausing midsentence as he shook his head. "I guess I just have to find something out first."

"I see." Dr. Jones murmured. "Well then, I leave the choice with you. If you still want to come with me to the ruins at Howduyadocola, I'll have Sub-C parked at the exterior laboratory dock. If you're not back by ten minutes after five, I'll assume that you've decided to stay."

Dr. Jones got up and walked past Mike, patting his shoulder consolingly. "I have to run the final checklist with Nav-Com. I've left you a thermos by the coffeepot, so help yourself."

"Uncle Steve?" Mike said with a start as his Uncle reached the kitchen's exit. The archaeologist turned and looked back to his nephew with a calm stare.

"Yes, Mike?"

"…thank you." Mike spoke softly. "For telling me the truth."

"You're welcome." Dr. Jones replied, smiling a bit. "And just remember; we adults aren't always the enemy. I'm here to help you, no matter how bad things seem."

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Mike to stare over towards his thermos of coffee and the warm, revitalizing liquid beside it.

He shut his eyes for a moment, praying for a bit that his memories of last night, were in some part flawed. Or if they weren't…

That there was still time left to act.

"Some days I wish I'd stayed in Seattle." He groused, walking over and pouring his usual wakeup drink inside of the thermos.

A part of him hoped that within contained the secret to meaningful conversation…

Because he could use all the help he could get.

---

Coralcola's North Shore

Three Minutes Later

Mike had ran all the way from the laboratory to the stretch of shoreline that he and Mica had found themselves returning to time and time again. He arrived with his thermos in hand, chest rising and falling as he tried to recover his breath.

The waves gently washed up on shore, carrying a lulling sense of calm along with them. Mike paid little attention to the scenery, however; he was too intent on speaking his peace.

"Mica…Come on, Mica." He whispered quietly, staring along the shoreline and towards the driftwood he'd sat on the morning before. Crestfallen, he noticed that she was nowhere in sight. A burning pebble of optimism refused to die in him, and he sat down on the driftwood. He waited a few moments before unscrewing the Thermos' lid and pouring himself a capful of his Uncle's brewed java.

Taking in a deep drink, his frantic mind began to slow down with caffeine's' reintroduction to his system. The cool of the night still hung over him, and the warm coffee made steam rise in tendrils around his face. A placid state of mind began to envelop him, and with it came the dilution of time.

He was thus left unaware when a warm hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder, and reacted with a start. "Mica?" He heard himself ask in an unsure, but hopeful voice. He turned around, a glimmer of want in his face.

It died a fraction of a moment later, and he turned back towards the sea.

"Sorry, Mike. I suppose I'm not who you were expecting to see." Amethyst said gently, walking around and sitting beside him.

"I'm that obvious, huh?"

"When you mention Princess Mica's name in that tone of voice, yes." Amethyst said, a bit of mirth rising to the surface. "But why are you up so early?"

Mike didn't say anything, and Amethyst let out a muffled grunt. "All secrets, aren't you. This is a side of you I haven't seen before, Mr. Jones."

"Really?" Mike said, feigning interest as he took another sip from his thermos. "Why, I'm just full of surprises."

"So, you were waiting here for Mica."

"Yeah."

"You two meet here often?" Amethyst probed.

"Can I lie to you?"

"Not easily, no." She shot back with no delay.

Mike turned his head to look at her, no emotion in his eyes. "Head games must be a thing you Argonians all share." Amethyst blinked in surprise for a moment, but Mike didn't give her a chance for a comeback. "Well, if you can read my mind…then you know the answer to your question, don't you?"

Amethyst blinked a few more times, then slowly nodded in agreement.

Mike tilted his head back to the sea. "So that was that."

"You know…you know it can't happen." Amethyst said. "You and her?"

"Yeah. I know." Mike mumbled. "She's promised to Ezilian. She told me."

"Last night? After the game?"

"Yes."

"That must have caught you by surprise." Amethyst murmured. "To us…we always knew. But to you and the others here?"

"I don't think most people here would care."

"But you seem to." She noted grimly. "Mike?"

"Yes?" The boy replied, looking over to her.

"Don't delude yourself." Amethyst said with a shake of her hair. The stunned look on Mike's face pressed her onwards. "Whatever you think can happen between you and Mica…look, it can't."

Mike played dumb, and Amethyst frowned. "I'm being serious, Mike. Look at it. She's a Princess, and she's promised to Ezilian. You don't think I haven't noticed how you look at her some days? Heck, even right now…you being here, and expecting her at this hour in the morning? No, you two have been doing this for some time. I'm telling you now to stop it."

"How can you…"

"Mica doesn't care for you." Amethyst continued, now unable to stop herself. "And what you have…that's infatuation, nothing more, nothing less. Let go of it."

"Blast it, why are you saying this?!" Mike barked angrily.

"Because it's the TRUTH!" Amethyst shouted back at him. "So stop living in a dream and get back to the real world! Mica's told me herself that things would be simpler if you would just leave!"

The rest of Amethyst's words had only angered Mike. Her last sentence was the one thing that dealt a hammerblow to him.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he could finally speak. "What…"

Amethyst's eyes did not waver in the slightest. "You complicate everything in her life, Mike. You complicate all our lives. I'm asking you…Leave. You saved us, and we're grateful for that, but…" Amethyst's voice trailed off, and she looked away.

Mike closed his eyes for a moment, not quite sure what to think. Frustration took over again, and he clenched a fist up.

"You know, I had it easy too, before I came here." Mike muttered. "Maybe I should have never bothered to save you all in the first place." Amethyst looked up, a shocked expression evident. Mike blinked back the first of his hot tears, picking himself up and screwing his thermos shut. "That would have made all our lives easier, now wouldn't it?"

His body rigid and his mind blurred by red, Mike stormed off towards the laboratory, leaving the beachline behind him.

Amethyst watched him leave, then quietly stood up and readjusted her dress and shawl. Slowly, she wandered away from the driftwood bench and back towards the island.

In the trees, another figure calmly waited with hawklike eyes at her approach. Amethyst paused at the treeline, waiting as he emerged and walked over to her, resting his powerful arms on her shoulders and rubbing them.

"Well?"

"He bought it." Amethyst said simply. She looked down in shame for a moment, then up into his eyes. "Are…are we doing the right thing here? I mean, maybe they really do…"

The man shushed her with a finger to her lips, then kissed her forehead. Amethyst smiled a bit and fell easily into his embrace, her fears assuaged by his simple actions.

"We are doing what we must." He said, rocking her in his tender grasp. "Putting a stop to mindless dreaming before it can tear us apart."

He smiled a bit, a perfect row of teeth glinting in the moonlight. "And besides, we can't allow each other…to forget our obligations."

---

Dr. Jones leaned his head into the hatch of Sub-C, silently double checking the full stacks of supplies and Nav-Com at the helm. The stocky robot pilot swiveled his head completely around to look up at the archaeologist, the same emotionless glaze over his frozen face.

"Yes, Doctor Jones?"

"How much longer until we are ready to depart?"

Nav-Com swiveled his head back to the front of the cockpit and out of the thick plexiglass windowshield that made up the frontal viewing port. "All supplies for a two week expedition are loaded and notarized. I am also confirming full battery power in Sub-C, with backup diesel regenerators last tuned up a week and a half ago. Weather forecasts indicate calm seas for another month, and…"

"I get the picture. But how long until launch?" Dr. Jones interrupted.

Nav-Com's head clicked a few times as he made the necessary calculations. "We may leave immediately. Shall I begin undocking procedures?"

Dr. Jones pulled his head out of Sub-C's sizable quarters, then looked back towards the shore.

He wasn't surprised to see his nephew there, but he was surprised at the condition he was in. Sweating, breathing heavily, and with a frustrated and angry look on his face. At least he'd had the sense to bring a luggage bag of his clothes with him.

"Good morning, Mike." Dr. Jones said simply.

"I'm coming with." Mike barked bitterly. "I…I need to get off of this island for a while."

Dr. Jones nodded, his eyes cautiously sizing Mike up from behind his spectacles. "All right then, climb aboard."

Dr. Jones ventured down into Sub-C's cockpit, wincing a bit as Mike's luggage bag collapsed heavily against the metal floor. The boy himself edged his body halfway down the hatch, standing on the ladder for support.

"You coming down, Mike?" Dr. Jones asked.

"In a bit. Go ahead and start us up." Mike replied quickly. Dr. Jones pursed his lips for a moment, but nodded his head and looked to Nav-Com.

"Well, then. Nav-Com, begin undocking procedures and set sail for Howduyadocola."

"Confirmed." Nav-Com droned, not bothering to reach for the steering wheel as Sub-C's electric motors whirred to life.

Outside in the laboratory's exterior dock, the magnetic docking clamps disengaged from Sub-C's hull with a pair of muffled thuds. Mike was jarred a bit as he leaned against the hatchway, but kept his balance. Slowly, he turned his head towards Coralcola Village, towards the hut of Bana Omoy…and Mica.

"I'll leave then." Mike whispered. "I'll just leave, and that'll be the best thing for the both of us then, won't it?"

He stared a few seconds longer before he forced himself to turn his head east, towards the full ocean horizon and the still sleeping sunrise.

It took everything he had not to look back again.

---

8:45 A.M.

For a change, Mica hadn't had nightmares shatter her to wakefulness, and so she had slept a good long while. Of course, upon waking up, she remembered what had happened the night before.

That had been bad enough. She remembered it all. The baseball game, where Mike and Ezilian had clashed egos, and in the case of Ezilian, minds. Perhaps Mica had starbursted him harder than necessary, but Ezilian had deserved it nonetheless for attacking Mike with a power the boy didn't understand.

And then…

I told him…I told him, and Sellarus forgive me, but I thoughtwailed as well.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position on her cot, running a hand through her hair. Her nightgown hung loosely around her frame, no chill sweat present this morning to make her feel sticky. Shilivre…

The force that they all commanded, that some Argonians, with training, could tap into. Only in the nobility were those powers ever dutifully trained, and only in the Royal Line…her line…

Was it instinctive. Yet all along, they had been trained that Shilivre was never to be used in open aggression.

Ezilian had, and Mica had struck him down for it.

"But…why…" She murmured, pulling a hand half-clasped up to her chest. Eyes empty but open, she looked down at the end of her bed.

She had been betrothed to Ezilian.

I am his. I've known that since I was five…

She'd never really approved of it. Ezilian had been a cruel boy in their youth, what her parents had called "Overly boisterous."

Boisterous, my foot. It had still been reality, the one thing in her life that was always set, that came closer and closer every birthday. Her mother had noticed. Of course she would.

"Mom…" Mica whispered, opening up her mind and searching the heavens, desperately hoping she would find the soothing presence of Tanelia Argos.

Disheartened, she closed her sight a minute later, shaking her head.

But mom…you knew. You knew I didn't like Ezilian, how I hated our arranged marriage.

Nothing could have changed that, though. It was for Argonia, as her father would say.

Mica got up and went into the hut on the side of Bana Omoy's residence, closing the door firmly before removing her nightgown and stretching out. The town watchman had already replaced the tub of water that served as the shaman's…and now her…bathtub, and resisting the urge to shiver at the cool water, she slid into it, freezing with her arms at the sides as she grew accustomed to the temperature.

She stared up at the ceiling in those long moments, breathing steady and heart confused.

Things had been quiet for seven years on Argonia…before Zoda struck. She remembered the incident when she had been nine quite well, but it was one irrelevant to her train of thought…or so she hoped…

And then we were sent here.

She had spoken to Mike of the desperate gripping feeling of loneliness that had claimed her, sealed in the cube. She had built up a resistance to everything, a wall nobody could get through…

And then she met him. The boy…no, man, who had saved them all.

The native Earthling who wielded, as well as any one of her fellow Argonians could tell, the legendary Ellini, the weapon of the Starseer.

The boy who was called Michael Jones.

He was unlike anyone she had ever met…aside from sharing a near kindred bond with Marlin, he was blindly optimistic, and his smile had been bright enough to make ice crack from the warmth of it.

And he cared, didn't he? When everyone else assumed that being awakened from the cubes meant adjusting to a new world, mourning those lost, but still living…he knew you still carried pain, didn't he Mica?

He'd broken through that barrier. He'd given her an outlet to finally vent. And he did care.

More than he knew he was allowed to…until last night.

And even then…even then, all he did was comfort me.

She felt warmer as she continued to think, stretching a perfect ivory leg up and over the rim of the tub.

To Ezilian, nothing mattered but duty, possession, and control.

Mike was none of those things. To Mike, happiness…contentment…those were the things that counted. And she wasn't blind, either. She could see the look in his eyes that showed up every time they were alone together.

Michael D. Jones, the boy from Earth, their rescuer…

Was more than smitten with her.

And more and more, Mica's greatest fear…

She shut her eyes and dunked her head completely under the water. Best to submerge those thoughts, because they led down a path a part of her did not want to venture.

And still, she felt warmer.

---

Coralcola Village was already bustling with life by the time Mica dressed herself, foregoing her favorite dress for the more comfortable blue jeans from the baseball game and a lavender blouse that she had been given as a present by the natives. As the cool morning gave way to the heat of the coming day, she decided that the thin fabric; what was it again, satin?...would feel far better than her red sundress.

The eating lounge was already starting to fill up by the time that she arrived, and she approached it with some hesitation. Inevitably, the growling hunger in her stomach won over her fears, and she had gone.

Still, she did not look forward to dealing with Mike. He would have questions, concerns, would either hound her to death or completely ignore her.

She looked around the tables, blinking to gauge her bearings and calculate what she was seeing.

Many Coralcolans. All the other Argonians.

But no Mike. She frowned; it wasn't like him to miss out on breakfast, he was as much a morning person as she was. Then again, today hadn't been typical for her, and it was likely it was the same for him.

Ezilian waved her over, smiling as he picked up another piece of breadfruit. "Good morning to you, Princess. I hope you slept well."

"Better than usual." Mica had to agree. "Longer, at least." Brushing a hand through her hair, she sat down next to Ezilian and little Rozlyn, who made it a point to jump up from her spot beside her big sister Amethyst and run over to the elder girl. "And good morning to you, Rozlyn." Mica said, regaining a smile as she rubbed the little girl's hair.

"That game was fun last night!" Rozlyn chirped excitedly. "When are we gonna play 'aseball again?"

From the next table over, perched between Bakusian and Giskard, Marlin whistled to get Rozlyn's attention. "Man Roz, you are asking the wrong kid for that. Only Mike could tell ya…speaking of which, where is Mike?"

Mica, puzzled as much as Marlin was, did not notice how Ezilian's smile curled at the edges, or how Amethyst lowered her head so far that nobody could read the expression on her face. Her eyes scanned around the lodge for a long moment, still seeing no sign of Mike.

"I couldn't tell you…I haven't seen him since la…well, since the baseball game." Mica said, correcting herself midsentence. "I would have thought you'd know, Marlin…he's closest to you."

Marlin shrugged. "Well, we'll just have to go pay him a visit later."

Ezilian put his breadfruit down, thoughtfully rubbing at his chin before looking over at Hapo Omoy, who looked around the village hut with a doleful expression while munching on a vegetable root under the watchful eye of his sister. "Say, Chief Omoy, wasn't Dr. Jones leaving on his expedition for somewhere or other this morning?"

Hapo looked over. "Come to think of it…I think he did mention something about those ancient ruins he found by Howduyadocola again. He complained to me just yesterday about having to refit Sub-C after Mike and Mica went fishing in it…Yes, that has to be it. Dr. Jones is gone."

Giskard lifted an eyebrow, peering up from his breadfruit. "What are you getting at, Ezilian?"

The elder boy shrugged. "I just had a thought…that maybe Mike would have gone with him."

Mica whipped her head about sharply. "Now why would he do that?"

Ezilian glanced at Mica with another shrug, but a calm look in his eyes. "I can't read minds, Mica." The Argonian children all glanced thoughtfully at one another, and then to Mica, whose face began to blush slightly. "It just seems rational to me. Ever since we've arrived, Mike's been an early riser, and he's not one to miss breakfast. Still, it's a thought." He rubbed his hands together to get the last of the crumbs off of him, standing up. "I'm about done…I've got to make my bed yet, so how about we all just take a walk over to the laboratory in ten minutes and see if Mike's still with us?"

"Sounds like fun to me!" Bakusian interjected, lifting his glass. "You know, I've yet to see that laboratory. Giskard got to help Dr. Jones drag that equipment of his back yesterday, and I've felt kind of left out."

The other children all were in agreement, if only that it would break the pattern of boredom in their lives. Mica had felt the implications behind Ezilian's jab; doubtless the others had caught it too. All the children were well aware of Mica's mastery of Shilivre, the power of Sellarus' lineage. Even as she sat there, furiously gnawing away at breakfast, the heat in her face refused to dissipate.

Why…why would he leave, no, Ezilian has to be lying, he just has to be…

I mean, I laid a lot on him last night, but Mike's stronger than that…

Strong enough…

He…

Wouldn't leave…

The other children eventually wrapped up and began to stroll off to meet up with Ezilian. Mica took her time, contemplating whether or not Ezilian was off of his nut.

Bana, the island Shaman, purposefully moved over and sat next to Mica. "You're troubled by Ezilian's comments."

"Yes." Mica said simply.

"As well you should be…There's a bit of the jackal in him."

"The jackal?"

"Watch with open eyes, Mica." Bana said gravely, looking towards her young charge. "Rough waters are coming."

"Do you ever not speak in riddles?" Mica muttered quietly, shaking her head and standing up to leave. "Things are complicated enough right now, I don't need puzzles on top of everything else." She offered an apologetic glance to Bana, then walked off close on the heels of the other Argonians.

Bana blinked softly a few times, then flexed her wrinkled hands and closed her eyes. "Mica, you're looking for the clear path, but there isn't one in your state of mind." Her eyes glanced up towards the sky, and the stars that were blinded out by sunlight. "But your heart knows the right way…"

Bana looked at the remains of breakfast and absentmindedly plucked up an untouched chunk of breadfruit, biting off a hunk.

"…If you would bother to listen to it."

---

Coralcola was a small island; you could go from one end of it to the other, or to the village at the middle of the land juncture with little difficulty and time wasted. But as Mica trailed after the other Argonian children, and eventually caught up to them so they could all walk together, the Princess thought that somewhere, whatever entity controlled the grains of reality's clock was causing them to trickle slower. It drove her insane not knowing, being haunted by her own demons and the ones that Ezilian seemed to want to drive into her thoughts as well.

Mercifully, nobody tried to engage in conversation with her, still too caught up from breakfast's chatter to bother with a new source. She wouldn't have noticed anyhow, and would have been seen as either rude or distant.

Distant was the truer perception. But in time, the northern side of the island curved into a familiar outcropping into the island's harbor, and the white laboratory of Dr. Jones came into view. Emerging from the front door was the well-toned figure of Baboo, who ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the approaching Argonians.

"Baboo!" Marlin called out, catching the native's attention in one easy holler. Baboo began to walk towards them, slowly waving his hand to greet them.

"Hello!" Baboo said cheerfully. "What are you all doing out here today?"

"We were wondering if you'd be able to tell us if Mike was home." Ezilian said smoothly, maneuvering to the front of the pack. "We were looking forward to having his company today."

Baboo's smile faded. "Mike?? No, Mike isn't home…Starting today, I'm housesitting, as Dr. Jones calls it. Dr. Jones was going on another expedition to those ruins he'd found…I got a radio message from Sub-C not too long ago as I was cleaning up the laboratory, and Mike was with him."

Mica tried not to let her face gain the same crestfallen expression her heart felt as he said that. Thankfully, no one paid her any attention, focusing solely on Baboo.

"Oh, that's a shame." Ezilian murmured, disappointment seeping in his tone. "That certainly puts a damper on things, it does." He turned about and shrugged to his counterparts. "Well then, what shall we do instead?"

Amazingly, every child found something different to do. Rozlyn wanted to go build sandcastles, Giskard was going to spend his time perusing the laboratory's extensive library, Marlin was going off to practice his pitching skills. Amethyst said she'd figure something out, and Bakusian noted that he had some errands to run for the Island Chief.

All this passed by Mica in a blur, until Ezilian sighed and clasped a hand on Baboo's shoulder. "Well then, I suppose we'll be on our way. You don't mind Giskard looking through the library?"

Baboo shook his head with an easy smile. "Our home is yours now."

The children dispersed, easily going about their normal routines. Mica politely excused herself and headed towards the north shore, her pace clipped and her head swirling.

Still disbelieving, a glimmering part of her spirit refusing to let go of the hope that Mike had not left, hadn't uprooted himself just because of a fact long hidden and told in strictest confidence. Looking back on it, she began to feel a sense of anger. No secrets…No secrets, and he'd run off. So truly, what did his friendship mean…

And had she been misreading him when she thought he had been grasping onto deeper feelings…

Abruptly, she stopped running and her breath caught in her throat. She had been charging for so long that lost in her thoughts, she had arrived at the northern shore.

There was the singular piece of driftwood that they had found themselves returning to time and time again; unbeckoned, they came with only a feeling that drove them both.

The waves rose up against the shore in their quiet rumble, and the driftwood sat untouched by the elements, stubbornly rising out of the beach head.

Mike was not there.

Mike was not at the village.

Mike was not on the island at all.

He was gone. Mike was on Sub-C, out in the middle of the ocean…

Gone with his Uncle Steve out to the ruins, a place that was a voyage away.

"So, our great hero has left us." Ezilian muttered, walking up behind her with a restrained expression on his face. "I can't say I'm particularly surprised."

Mica slowly turned away from the vacant driftwood towards her arranged suitor. "And why is that?" She asked in a carefully measured tone.

Ezilian shrugged, then put his hands in his pockets. "Maybe he just couldn't live with trying to live out a reputation as the great hero of Coralcola. The other kids, Marlin in particular, almost idolize him. For a kid who doesn't think of himself as a hero, that has to be overwhelming."

Mica brushed her fingers through her dark red hair, her mind a confused brew. "Are you saying he went with his Uncle to escape this place?? Because he was ashamed of everything that's happened?"

"I just think he's finally realized there's a reputation he has among the cheerier members of our entourage, and it's one he can no longer keep up." Ezilian concluded darkly. "We all know the legend of the Starseer…how he was supposed to come back and save us. But you know what I think? I think the legend is just that, Mica. A myth. A story. Because what happened to us…what happened to Argonia?? That was our darkest hour, and I'll be damned if Mike Jones is supposed to be the reincarnation of the Starseer."

"You never did have much faith." Mica whispered, closing her eyes.

"So what do you want me to say?" Ezilian countered. "That Mike is the Starseer, something I can't believe?"

"Do you choose not to believe that because of what happened to Argonia…or because of your feelings towards Mike?" Mica countered, her eyes flashing.

Ezilian's brow furrowed, and he leaned in close to her, quieting his voice to a forced whisper. "What I base that on is of little consequence. But I am concerned as of late, Mica…because more and more, you're beginning to sound like you have developed feelings for him you should not hold."

The color began to drain out of Mica's face, and Ezilian took a step back, shaking his head. "You and I are destined to be wed upon the day of maturation, mark that well. We have a duty, not only to the other children, but to the memory of your father. Don't let yourself be fooled by these fluttering illusions of romance with the Jones boy. He is just a mere human, and you…a Princess."

Ezilian clucked his tongue and began to walk off, ignoring the tears that began to develop in Mica's eyes.

"Besides, Mica; you have yet to make one simple realization." Ezilian finished dourly, pausing to look back at her with a chastising glare. "If he really did have feelings for you…why did he leave?"

Ending it at that, the Argonian noble turned back around and headed for the village at an easy pace. Mica's tears came freely now, and as her face grew redder and redder from the slowly developing sobs, she turned and ran the opposite direction from him, wanting to escape only farther away…to escape it all, to be as far from everyone as possible.

Far beyond her sight, Ezilian's mouth curled into the beginnings of a cold and calculating grin.

---

"Current speed is ten knots; estimated time of arrival to Howduyadocola is now approximately a day and twelve hours." Nav-Com droned tonelessly.

Dr. Jones looked up from his notebook of sketches and barely coherent thoughts to look at his young nephew. Mike was sitting in the front seat next to Nav-Com, staring blankly out through the massive plexiglass bubble that made up the front end of Sub-C's nose. The archaeologist couldn't help but frown.

He never thought the day would come when Nav-Com would become more of a conversationalist than a human being. Snapping his notebook shut, he walked up and tapped Mike on the shoulder, jarring the boy from his quiet state of mind.

"Hey." Dr. Jones said, smiling a bit. "You awake?"

Mike blinked a few times. "Yeah…Why d'ya ask?"

"You just seemed like you were dozing off there is all." His uncle replied, glancing at his watch. "And it seems as though it's time for lunch."

Mike blinked a few times. "Already? How long have we been sailing?"

"Approximately seven hours and twenty three minutes." Nav-Com chirped.

Mike scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah…that'd make it lunchtime all right."

Dr. Jones cleared his throat. "Nav-Com, take us to the surface and resume sailing speed of seven knots."

"Advisement; this will increase the total travel time. Continue?" Nav-Com queried.

"Affirmative." Dr. Jones said, smiling. "Mike and I will have lunch on the deck."

Ten minutes later, when the sun and the wind had dried the seawater clear of Sub-C's hatchway, Dr. Jones came up with a pair of sandwiches and two cups of some steaming liquid. Mike glanced at him casually, accepting the simple meal and sniffing at the drink.

"This isn't coffee…it smells more like chicken broth with some stuff thrown in with it."

"It is." His uncle countered, smiling. "A personal favorite of mine; sage, rosemary and a dash of paprika in chicken broth. Good for what ails you, or just for simpler occasions."

"Huh." Mike muttered, taking a tentative bite of the sandwich. "Chicken salad with sliced celery and peas?" He looked up. "This isn't a bad sandwich…my dad makes them like this too."

"That's a particular trait we both share." Dr. Jones confirmed, sipping on his broth. "When we were growing up, your grandma always made it like that."

"No wonder then." Mike said, cracking a smile for the first time since they had started out. "Gramma always did make them the best."

The two munched contentedly on their sandwiches for a while, until Mike broke the silence. "So…what exactly are you looking for in those old ruins?"

"A fair question." His uncle replied easily. "The islands of the Southern Cross are a unique place to study…they carry their own history, their own language, and for many years until recent times, were undisturbed by the rest of the world. Outside of the historic Captain Bell and a few missionaries, these islands have remained undisturbed. Those ruins buried beneath sea level by Howduyadocola are therefore of extreme importance…but why I am returning is that there are still so many things about that place that don't make SENSE."

"Like what?"

"The impression of the ruins is supposed to give one a very earthly feel…I could compare any portion of the ruins to ruins from Indonesian cultures to the Olmecs…and even the Easter Island statues. But Mike, what you must understand…is that at no time could those cultures have ever rationally interacted. By what we know of history, it's an impossibility."

Mike gnawed down the rest of his sandwich. "So what does explain the ruins then?"

Dr. Jones adjusted his glasses. "That's what I'm going back to find out…But I have this feeling that the answers are far closer than I would give them credit for."

Mike blinked a few times. "You're all mystery and intrigue…and one of these days, I'm going to get you a hat like Indiana Jones has."

His uncle chuckled. "Oh, stop it. I can't use a weapon for the life of me…not like you can."

He looked over to find Mike staring down into his broth, his eyes dulled. "I…try not to think about that." His nephew finally admitted. Dr. Jones's mirth faded, and he shook his head.

"I apologize."

"One day, I'll have to get over all of this." Mike muttered. He looked up at his uncle and shook his head. "It's best I try to do it now."

"Do you feel regret for all that's happened?"

"No." Mike said slowly. "No, it isn't regret, Uncle Steve…"

"What is it then?"

The youth finished off his broth and stared towards the horizon, his eyes dull. "I don't know."

Dr. Jones nodded. "So…what made you change your mind so quickly about coming with me?"

"I don't know."

Dr. Jones closed his eyes for a moment, pulling out a cloth and rubbing at his forehead. "It seems there's a lot of things we don't know then."

Mike's shoulders seemed to sag in towards his chest as his Uncle said that, fully understanding the inflection in those quiet, but hurt words.

"I know more than I did before." Mike began slowly, shaking his head. "About her. About them."

Dr. Jones kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. "They have their own perfect little world built up just for them, and no matter what I did for them, I can't be a part of it." Mike turned, staring into the old eyes of his fellow sailor. "And…One of them told me something."

"What?"

"That…their life would be simpler if I wasn't there." Mike finally uttered out, exhaling the weight of guilt free from his lungs and clenching a fist. "The Hell with it. Mica thinks her life is simpler without me in it? FINE. My life is simpler without her either!" Mike pounded his hand against the metallic deck. "I came to Coralcola to do a lot of fishing, get a tan, and to get away from my life. And with them around, that's all but impossible, so FINE. No more trying to worry about helping Marlin with his pitching. Forget all the complicated things that Bana keeps spouting off. Ezilian and all his competitive spirit can go take a flying leap off a short pier. And Mica and her jaded perspective on life as nothing but walking torture and endless commitments can just go back and hide in that cube, for all I care!! The Hell with them! The Hell with them all!"

His voice was tremulous in the beginning, but had built at the end to a defiant roar, bubbling with misguided venom and shattered dreams. Uncle Steve bit his lip, not wanting to believe his nephew, so good natured and capable and supportive, could utter such things. But he rationalized, that had only been part of the matters troubling his nephew.

To be honest, he was also keeping some matters about the ruins held back from Mike. Maybe a little give and take would be the way to go now…and it certainly couldn't hurt to connect to Mike a little more. The first two weeks of his vacation had been harrowing, rushed by the influence of a dark minded extraterrestrial hellbent on finishing what he had started twenty years before…patching things up since then was made all the more difficult.

"You know Mike…I never really do talk much about your dad and I, do I?" He began quietly. Mike tried to stop the quivering of his lower lip, listening intently. "He and I have always been different…I was obsessed with academia, and he with athletics." Steve chuckled, readjusting his glasses. "In retrospect, Daniel's path was certainly more popular.

We both grew up…I went onto the University of California, and he went onto a vocational school for two years. For all our differences, though…we've always been supportive of each other. You share his athletic talent in so many ways…and you know, it's true what they say, you look like your parents."

Mike nodded, waiting for his uncle to continue.

"There's something about the ruins I have yet to explain…" Steve finally said. "When you went through, you saw with your own eyes the melted escape pod that had come from Argonia…and you saw the cipher markings on it." Calmly, the archaeologist removed his glasses and cleaned them again. "Well…those cipher markings still puzzle me. Half of them I could translate…which is why Zoda kidnapped me. That half gave instructions on how to unlock the cubes' power…now, looking back, I see I mistranslated even that, mistaking 'power' for 'light'. It's still unusual, but…Anyhow. Then came the other half of the cipher, which I'm still working on to little effect. It's Argonian script, either an archaic form of it or an encoded form. But the ruins, Mike…they also had markings."

Mike, slowly connecting the dots of his uncles' ramblings, let his eyes widen a bit. "What, are you trying to tell me that…"

"There is a connection between the Argonians and the underground ruins of Howduyadocola." Dr. Jones finished calmly, setting his spectacles back on his nose and peering through the lenses at his nephew. "What that connection is…that has now become the focus of my investigation."

Mike seemed to sink into himself at that, once the shock had worn off. "It figures they'd still be hiding something from us."

"And what have they hidden from you?" Dr. Jones asked, sensing that his roundabout tactic to make Mike open up may have succeeded.

Mike said nothing, and the archaeologist lowered his voice. "What…did Mica hide from you?"

The boy drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them and looking out towards the waves. "Mica admitted to me last night…that she and Ezilian are engaged. Some kinda arranged marriage thing."

His eyes dimmed out. "But…in spite of that, I thought…Because she…and I…And then to not show up, and have Amethyst of all people tell me that she said her life would be easier if I wasn't around…?"

Mike shook his head. "I'm messed up enough already. I don't need to carry a flame for a girl who won't even be honest about her own feelings. And besides, of the others, only Marlin really respects me, and that's just because of my athletic talent. If Mica can't be honest and tell me herself, one way or the other…"

His voice trailed off, and he shut his eyes. "I can't love her…And I'll just make things even crazier than they are. So maybe it'd be best if I did just disappear. So I'll go with you, and stay out of their way. I don't owe them anything anymore. They don't owe me." He lifted his hand up in front of his eyes and shut it into a fist. "And I don't care about her."

Dr. Jones said nothing, letting the rolling surf of the sea be the only speech as he got up and collected the remains of lunch. He paused midway down the hatch ladder, staring at his nephew with those same calculating eyes. "You know, that's something else you and your father have in common." He said quietly. "You're both terrible liars."

He vanished belowdecks, leaving Mike to stare out to the northeast.

His throat had closed up when Uncle Steve had said that.

He didn't even have the capacity to cry.

---

The tin cans were set up in Coralcola's caverns just as Mike had left them on their last visit. Marlin strolled in calmly with his kerosene lamp swaying in one hand, and his other holding the drawstring of a canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

"Batter up." He murmured appreciatively, setting the lantern down and opening the bag. Mike had even set the cans back up in their sitting position from the last time they had practiced together; awful nice of him, Marlin thought.

From the bag, he removed what Mike called a 'MLB regulated horsehide'…a baseball, but there were always eccentric terms for such things. Ducking down into his stance, he narrowed his eyes and pulled his arm back. "Eye on the target…watch how much your wrist flicks it." He muttered quietly. The can was directly in his sights, and he threw…

It flew harmlessly by the can and impacted on the spongy wall, disturbing a snail that had been sleeping. "Blast!" Marlin snapped, shaking his head. "Man, it should be easier than this."

"One would think." Came a voice from behind him, venturing through the caves from the entrance just as he had. Marlin turned with a puzzled expression, and didn't let go of it when he saw that of all the people that might have come down to visit him, it was Princess Mica.

"Hey Mica." Marlin said, nodding his head. "What are you doing down here?"

She shrugged in response, her eyes giving off little emotion. "You're making a lot of noise…and I thought these caves were off limits."

"Bah, what the islanders don't know won't hurt them." Marlin jested. "Besides, I'm not about to lose a perfectly good spot for pitching just because some people are afraid."

"I remember hearing that Mike was helping you learn how to throw." Mica continued, strolling closer towards him. "Obviously, there's still some work to be done."

"Bah, there's always more that can be done." Marlin grumbled, running a hand through his scruffy hair. "Mike told me it wouldn't come overnight. Right now, though, I'm thinking I'm just rusty." He frowned at the cans. "Yesterday, I was hitting them. I just haven't found my stretch again. But Mike…he never misses." Marlin reached down for another ball and lofted it in his hand a few times, feeling its weight.

Mica clasped a hand around her elbow, letting her arm hang loose to her waist. "You seem to like him a lot."

"Yeah, sure." Marlin replied nonchalantly, taking another windup and throwing with the same disappointing results. Shaking his head, he reached for another ball. "I mean, the guy must have gone through heck to save our carcasses…I don't even want to think about what it was like to go up against…"

"Zoda." Mica finished softly.

"Yeah." Marlin mumbled, bowing his head for a moment before making another throw; that one failed as well. "But somehow, he pulled it off. And I stand here…we all stand here…alive, because he gave enough of a damn to make things right."

"You know, he wasn't aware that we were in those cubes when he fought to obtain them." Mica corrected.

"Doesn't matter." Marlin shrugged. "Whatever his reason for boarding the ship and fighting Zoda and rescuing the cubes, the fact is that he did. And all that matters now is that he stuck with us."

He took another throw, pleased with himself when the ball finally connected with the edge of a can and sent it toppling. His smile gave way to a quieter resignation. "It…hasn't been easy for any of us, I imagine. To have our home no longer exist? To know that all our families and friends…died…and to know that we're the last of our kind in a very strange land?" He looked at Mica for a moment, shaking his head. "The islanders mean well…they all do. And I'm grateful for that. But…"

He shook his head, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes. "It's just not the same as having your real parents there with you, ya know. Not a day goes by I wish my mom and dad weren't here…but then, I realize they aren't, and they can't be. And I try my best to move on."

"Yes." Mica nodded.

"Mike's been a real friend. We're trying to adapt to a new life in a world that isn't ours, and he understands that. So he does the only thing he can now; he tries to make life better for us. So…yeah. Mike's my friend. He's a friend to all of us." He finished, his resolute statement wavering at the end as he looked at Mica again.

"Isn't he?" He asked, his voice unsure.

Mica thought for a long moment, then nodded. "By that logic…then yes. But some of the others have had a harder time accepting him. And even I'm wary."

"Oh, please." Marlin scoffed, picking up another ball. "Mike's one of the most honest people I've ever known. Back on Argonia with the royal court, it was all positioning and feather fluffing; an utter waste of time and a walking falsehood, all of them."

"You always did like to stir up trouble at banquets." Mica giggled, a fond memory returning.

"But…Mike's different than that, Princess Mica. He isn't nobility. He's not even Argonian. He's honest with his feelings, and he's making an effort to keep us from falling apart. Life isn't all fun and games, but when he's around…I want to try and work towards that. He gives me something happy to think about."

"There's still one topic you've avoided." Princess Mica said, after a long moment.

"Oh? And what's that, milady?"

"The Prophecy."

Marlin didn't say anything for a while, glancing back at Mica's quiet stare. He pursed his lips and looked back towards his obstacle, reaching for one last ball.

"Yeah. I suppose I haven't wanted to talk about that." Marlin mumbled. "That's the one sticky spot in all of this…I mean, it's a legend. A myth, really…just this mystical promise of hope that in Argonia's darkest hour, the Starseer would return and save us all. I mean…really, our darkest hour? That should have been way back when Zoda came to the planet and started to annihilate us. But to think that…Mike's supposed to be the Starseer? A little hard to swallow."

Marlin shook his head. "But…at the same time, he did save us. And me and the other guys, when we were trapped in that cube? We did a lot of thinking, but mostly we thought about that Prophecy…and about how the Starseer would return. We hoped on it…we hung on it, it's what kept us from tearing each other apart. That hope. And then right after we felt a terrifyingly evil presence, we felt a weaker spirit…but one that sang with a sense of justice. In our state of mind, I think we really did feel the Starseer had come back. And we wished that somehow, he had Ellini…And the moment we get pulled from those cubes, I'm staring at him. And I'm staring at his weapon."

Marlin began to rotate the ball in his fingers, boring his eyes down on his target. "He calls it the Super Nova, you know? But…whether or not it's Ellini, it has Ellini's spirit in it. Maybe we really did wish so badly that the Starseer would come, that Ellini itself came to our call. Or maybe our latent Shilivre, stored and focused through our unified thoughts, worked a small change in his weapon. Either way, it's what he used to beat down Zoda."

"So do you feel that Mike is the Starseer?"

"Who, Mike?" Marlin mused, smiling a bit. He readied into his windup. "Mica…if you get too caught up in old stories and prophecies passed on through enough generations that small stars could perish, you'll end up with a warped outlook. Me? I don't really care either way. If he is the Starseer, he's blind to his true nature. If he isn't, then he's just a guy who did a good deed and who's just trying to make his life count. But no matter what…he's Mike Jones. That's all. No matter what else happens, no matter whether or not legends are real, that's true enough. He's Mike." Marlin threw his ball again, and was rewarded with the rich tone of a clank as the can was hit dead center and flew against the wall.

"And that…is all that really matters."

To Mica, it seemed as though Marlin had for a moment, reached a point of simplicity in his life that rivaled little Rozlyn's.

Then again, he had far less to think about.

"Keep practicing." Mica said, turning about. "I've got to visit some other places today."

"…Mica?"

The Princess paused at the exit to his section of the cavern.

"Mike's gonna come back…isn't he?"

Mica tried not to let her head sink into her shoulders. "I don't know."

On her way out, the Argonian Princess couldn't help but notice how many rats were beginning to scurry about.

---

Rozlyn squinted angrily at the fabric, sending whatever death vibes she could at the quilt she was working on. Bana Omoy, who was supervising the project with her knowing smile chuckled as the young Argonian fumbled and skipped the needle across the surface of the fabric, barely missing her hand.

"Careful now, Rozlyn." The island shaman smirked, her wrinkles lessening in her smile. "You want to sew the squares, not your hand."

"I know." Rozlyn mumbled, squinting her eyes again as she lined up the needle and poked ferociously at the thin fabric. This time, she met with considerably more success, and the needle and threat went through to the other side. "Ha!" She exclaimed, beaming as she held up her work.

"That's exactly right." Bana smiled. "Now, do you think you can do it again? Remember, the needle has to go up and down…up and down…" She added, motioning with her right hand in the air for Rozlyn's perception. The little girl groaned at that.

"That's too haaaard." She whined. "It'll take me forever!"

Bana nodded. "It will indeed, take you a while, little Rozlyn. But there's a lesson to be learned here."

"There is?" Rozlyn queried, blinking. "What?"

Bana leaned in closer to Rozlyn, resting her hand on the beginnings of the quilt Rozlyn was working on. "There are some things that take a long time to make." She finally said, lowering her voice so that Rozlyn had to strain to hear, and even stop fidgeting. "But…when you get older, you'll find something out."

"Whatsat?" Rozlyn asked innocently.

Bana smiled at the little girl and motioned behind them to the wall of her hut. Rozlyn glanced and stared in amazement at a particular piece of bedding hung on the wall.

It was a quilt bigger than even the Island Chief.

Rozlyn looked back to Bana, who merely shrugged and smiled. "Sometimes, the things that take the most work and time…are the most beautiful." The shaman motioned back towards the girl's work. "Do you understand?"

"I think so…" Rozlyn squinted. "If I try real hard…And work at it long enough…I could make something really nice?"

"That you could." Bana smiled. She didn't stop smiling, but she turned her head slightly sideways towards her door. Little Rozlyn noticed Bana's glance, but the witch doctor spoke before the little girl could utter a word. "Nothing you need to worry about, dear…keep knitting. You just have to keep at it." She stood up and wandered back towards the door. "I've got to step outside for a moment. Will you be all right?" Rozlyn smiled and nodded, eagerly attending back to her work. Bana smiled and strolled outside, shaking her head.

Once she was out of earshot of the little girl, Bana closed her eyes. "Well Mica, what might I do for you this afternoon?"

Mica, her arms folded across her chest in a motion of defense on the other side of the hut's door, shook her head. "You know what I came for."

Bana blinked a few times, then chuckled. "Really now?? And why would I know that?"

Because you hold some form of the same gift my people do.

Bana didn't need to look at Mica to know the girl had indeed spoken to her. "Some form of it…yes. But mine is meant only to guide and predict, and even then…Never mind." The shaman rubbed her forehead. "Your mind is still as muddled as it was at breakfast. I take it your day has not brought the resolution you seek then."

Mica nodded curtly, her faded eyes distant. "It…should be simpler than this."

"Even the simplest river is complex in its design." Bana said calmly. "Perhaps now you will listen?"

"I've been asking you to give me a straight answer for some time now." Mica retorted.

Bana smiled. "No, not me…listen to your heart."

Mica's face fell. The shaman inhaled a deep breath, her wrinkled skin lessening in intensity for a brief moment. "What would you have told Michael, had he not left with his Uncle early this morning?"

"I…Don't know." Mica said, after a moment of thought. "I mean…" She shut her eyes, rubbing at her forehead. "I just didn't think he would run away, that's all."

"Run away? From what?" Bana mused, lifting an eyebrow.

"…From me." Mica finally said, staring at the ground.

Bana took a sweeping glance about Coralcola Village, to the laughing children that ran in every direction and to the fishers and wives going about their chores. "No, he would not run from you. He cares for you, Mica."

"He's not supposed to."

"Perhaps not by your social structure…but I have seen the look in his eyes when you are around. And I have seen your own reactions as well." The shaman pulled her sleeves in tighter. "To all the others, you are required to maintain a regal air and stature…but Mike doesn't need that, and you drop that when you are with him. Something in his starlight puts you at ease…something warm and comforting and familiar."

The Princess fought against the overpowering urge to let her emotions consume her. "He can't be in love with me…It's not possible, it can't…"

"But he is." Bana said, shaking her head. "You have seen it in his face as I have. Perhaps the others are not as astute, but we can see beyond the veil."

"It can't happen." Mica argued, shutting her eyes. "And to have him run away from me like he did…"

"Your people aren't always this stubborn about ignoring their feelings, are they?" Bana grumbled. "You always turn it back to him, when the true maelstrom of doubt rests within you."

The shaman tucked her arms into her sleeves. "Mica, Mike didn't run because he was wavering in his feelings. He ran because a force on this island seeks to keep you apart. Even now, as doubt is setting in his mind, a part of him still shines in true starlight."

Bana looked plainly at the Argonian Princess. "He loves you, Mica."

Mica bit her lip. "I…can't love him."

The shaman closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head as she turned her gaze towards Bakusian, who stumbled towards her brother's larger hut. "Your reasons are beyond me, fair Mica. But you'll have to face your doubts and fears at some point. And the sooner…the better." She excused herself and headed towards Bakusian, leaving Mica to glance after her eccentric caretaker for a moment before charging northwards.

Bumbling Bakusian wished there was an easier way to do this; still, Hapo had been insistent upon it, and the youth couldn't argue with the bribe of having a chance to sail in the Chief's personal fishing boat. Shirt bulging from his smuggled contents, he approached the entrance with a grin on his face.

"Hello, Bakusian." Came an old, but stern voice from beside him. The boy paused and looked over his shoulder, gulping as the shaman stared him down with a less than pleased glance. "What business do you have with my brother today, hmm?"

"Ohh, nothing in particular." Bakusian replied, trying to sound calm. It was at that moment that a pig from the villages' stables ran by, squealing at the top of its lungs as a gaggle of laughing children charged after it. Stumbling in the crowd as it passed, Bakusian lost control of his shirt, and one of the items he was holding spilled out.

Fattening pressed breadfruit wrapped in palm leaves sprawled out over the ground, and a sheepish Bakusian looked down at his feet.

Bana harrumphed and crossed her arms. "I thought as much. Bakusian, come with me…if my brother wants to try and break his diet with some afternoon snacks, he has another thing coming." Like a punished dog on a leash, Bakusian trailed after Bana Omoy as she led him into her cabin.

Five minutes later, a redfaced Bakusian emerged from her cabin with Bana and Rozlyn waving cheerily after him, and far less of a bulge in his shirt. He marched over to the Chief's door and knocked, then entered quickly.

Hapo Omoy rose from his chair, eyes glinting hungrily. "You brought them?"

Bakusian nodded mutely and walked for the dining table. Hapo almost laughed as he approached the youth designated as his snack smuggler, a skip in his step.

His smile soon faded when Bakusian emptied his shirt; vegetable stalks. Nothing but vegetable stalks…that, and a hastily folded note.

"What's this then?" Hapo mused, picking it up and unfolding it quickly.

Sorry, brother…but you know that this diet is for your own good. Now stop trying to cheat on it, you can't get away with such nonsense while I'm around.

-Bana

"Blast her!" Hapo growled, crumpling the note in his hand. Bakusian, now truly flushed, shook his head.

"Sorry, Chief."

---

Nav-Com, as Uncle Steve had explained, had come as a part of the Sub-C package deal. A gift from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, Sub-C was a more streamlined offshoot of the famous "Alvin" submersible. It wasn't designed to handle the depths of deep ocean, but made up for it in versatility, space, self-reliance, and the ability to function on the surface as well as it did beneath the waves. That and its monthlong battery life with solar panel recharge option made it favorable for the warm seas of the Southern Cross.

Nav-Com was a pet project between the Navy and the Institute. More or less an extension of the vehicle whose commands were hardwired into it, Nav-Com was, simply put, a robotic navigator with limited interaction functions. That said, his limited memory capacity had somehow advanced in the time spent with the archaeologist.

Although he still made for boring conversation.

"Current position plotted; estimated time from departure, six hours." Nav-Com chirped. Mike stirred at the grating sound, frowning for a moment as he pulled himself up out of his slouch.

"Had a good nap?" Dr. Jones queried, looking over at him with a warm smile on his face.

Mike made a nonsensical grunt, rubbing at his head. "Nav-Com always did wake me up."

"He just takes some getting used to." Dr. Jones replied, adjusting his glasses. "Still, you looked like you needed the break."

"Maybe I did." Mike agreed slowly. "So how far out are we?"

"Well, going by your original travels…we're about thirty nautical miles from the next major island…we'll hit Miracola quite soon." Dr. Jones said, glancing over the electronic display of glowing green lines beside the radar viewscreen. "We've put some distance behind us."

Mike turned from his Uncle, staring through the master viewport. "So what are we supposed to be looking for when we reach the ruins?"

"The link to the Argonians, as I've said before." Dr. Jones stated flatly, glancing at his nephew. "I have suspected since we unlocked the cubes and freed them from their stasis prison that it was not coincidence their craft landed in the ruins."

"So you think they came here before?"

"Long before, if my suspicions are correct." Dr. Jones said. "I regret that I didn't have much time to complete my first investigations."

"Kind of hard to when you're kidnapped by an alien invader." Mike joked. "But this time, you'll have a better chance."

"Hopefully." Dr. Jones said with a smile. "What we find might indeed have the power to forever alter the world's perception of history."

"Maybe." Mike said, shrugging. "I haven't really given that much thought."

"No, you've been preoccupied with other things." Dr. Jones said. "Speaking of which, how are you feeling?"

"Alive, I suppose." Mike said dully. "Isn't that how I'm supposed to feel?"

"Not ideally." Dr. Jones peered to Nav-Com. "See? This is an actual conversation. Putting up with him for the entire trip was a lot worse."

Mike grunted nonsensically. "There were days I ordered Nav-Com to not talk to me unless we were going to crash into something."

"What would you do while he was driving then?"

"Think, mostly." Mike said, memories bringing a soft smile to his face. "About what mom and dad would think if they knew instead of fishing and knocking around baseballs and drinking coconut milk, I was running around in the Pacific Ocean in a prototype submarine, trying to save my Uncle from 'aliens', as Baboo later described it. I had the hardest time believing him when he told me that inside of the whale, but…Well." He shrugged. "Meeting up with you and climbing aboard their spaceship certainly dissolved that disbelief in a hurry."

"I imagine it would." Dr. Jones said, a twinkle in his eye as he shook his head. "No, I think that your father wouldn't be too pleased to know that his son had risked his life for 'crazy Uncle Steve'." The doctor rapped his fingers against his arm for a moment. "But…we can't tell him."

Mike looked over. "I have a feeling I've thought of this myself, but…why not, precisely?"

"Simple, my dear nephew." Dr. Jones explained, sighing. "Everything that happened…everything that transpired…It is a truth more harmful than a lie. To acknowledge anything about the events of the last few weeks…to anyone…would eliminate any chance that the Argonians might have of a peaceful existence. Your entrance back from the spaceship didn't go unnoticed; I picked up on more than a few inquiries by agencies that watch the skies, but thankfully, none that were too damaging." Dr. Jones adjusted his glasses, a quiet look on his face. "Best that NASA and its overlying watchers think it was just another unexpected meteor shower."

"…You're saying that the government might try to take the Argonians, if they knew. Put them to tests and examinations." Mike muttered, nodding his head. "I thought the FBI'd be swarming over this place myself, if they knew."

"Undoubtedly." Dr. Jones said. "But I'm an archaeologist, not an agent. I have come to accept them as part of the Coralcola family, as have the natives…after all the suffering they've seen, I would do everything in my power to keep them from further harm." He looked up at his nephew. "As you have, in a more overt way."

Mike mulled over that in his head for a few moments, then nodded. "I don't know if my dad'd blab something like that…but I see your point, I guess."

The boy leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. "…In the end, I guess I just want them all to be happy."

Dr. Jones watched his nephew for a moment, then got up and headed towards the back of Sub-C.

"What of your own happiness, Mike?" He called out from the storeroom.

"What about it?" Mike mumbled back, just loud enough for his absent Uncle to hear.

"Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am." Mike said defensively. "I'm on vacation and out of Seattle. It's not raining, and the skies aren't gray. I'm building a tan, keeping fit, and come fall, I'm going to be even stronger."

In the storage area, the sounds of rummaging stopped, and a puzzled Dr. Jones emerged. "Nav-Com?"

"Sir?" Chirped the droid, as it swiveled about and whirred its optics into focus on the professor.

"Didn't we load my field notebook's backdata resources onto Sub-C?"

Nav-Com thought for a moment, then chirped again. "Negative, Professor Jones. I am not reading such an entry in the ship manifest."

"Aaw, Hell." Dr. Jones grumbled, shaking his head. "That's not good."

Mike sat up. "What's wrong?"

"We forgot to load some of my research notes onto Sub-C." Dr. Jones explained, sounding miffed. "Without them, my work in the ruins will be drastically hindered. We have to go back for them."

"Go back?!" Mike sputtered, standing up as if his seat had caught fire. "But we can't go back!"

Dr. Jones looked at Mike, his eyes clear through the glasses that sat on his nose. "Whyever not?"

"Because…We just…And…" Mike stumbled, starting one sentence, only to abandon it for another moments later. Finally, he stopped and shook his head. "I went with you to get away from the island. To get away from them."

"No, you did it to get away from her." Dr. Jones corrected his nephew with a raised finger. "Don't delude yourself; she's the focus in your argument." The doctor turned to Nav-Com and cleared his throat. "Nav-Com, new program entry."

Nav-Com whirred for a moment and then clicked. "Navigational controls active. Please state new course designation."

"Return Sub-C to home dock on Coralcola."

"…Request confirmation. New destination; Coralcola Island, laboratory cavern dock. Confirm?"

"Confirm, Nav-Com. Affirmative destination."

Nav-Com whirred for a moment more, and Sub-C began to slow down. Finally, it jarred into the beginnings of a turn, and its motor revved back up to speed.

"Confirmed. Sub-C is now on a return heading to Coralcola Island. Estimate arrival 8:35 P.M. Note: Variance of 2.33 minutes, be advised."

Dr. Jones nodded and went back to his seat, placidly staring out of the massive front viewport as the horizon went from northeast to southwest. Behind him, a stunned Mike sank back into his chair, shaking his head.

"I can't believe we're going back."

Dr. Jones chewed on his lip for a moment, then clicked his tongue. "Something I learned long ago, Mike…You can't run away from your problems. You've got to face them, or you'll always regret it." He looked back. "It seems to me there's a lot of misunderstanding between you…and the others." Dr. Jones shook his head. "Between you and Mica. Consider this a chance to clear the air."

"She doesn't want me."

"Did she tell you that?" Dr. Jones asked sharply.

Mike blinked a few times before realization set in. "…no."

Dr. Jones let out a satisfied grunt and folded his arms with a smile.

"Well, there's your first problem right there. No telling what else you could solve…if you just start using that head of yours."

Mike looked at the floor, and then at the ceiling of the submersible they were in. He still had his doubts. And he wasn't looking forward to this. He even suspected that his Uncle had somehow forced this turnaround just to make him deal with it. But he'd get through it.

After all, he was a pitcher for a reason.

He hated running.

---

Doctor Jones, as the islanders called him, lived in a laboratory centered on the peninsula that jutted out from the inner side of Coralcola's north maw, spanning into the center of C-Bay. Traveling anywhere on Coralcola was never much of a walk, but it was far enough away for Mica's tastes. After all, the professor of digging up the past, as his title was simply put, had given all of the Argonians an open invitation to the use of his home; minus, of course, the highly expensive equipment in the true 'laboratory' portion of the facility.

Going in through the front northern entrance, the structure sought to impress immediately with the expansive living room, complete with fireplace, a "Forty inch television set", a viewing device, and posh furniture and carpeting. Connected to it was the open kitchen with white linoleum flooring, and up mahogany stairs from the living room was the second floor, and the living quarters for the homestead. That much she knew from her first visit to the place…but from what she had been told, there was more to this place, including a library. A little quiet reading, given the events of the day, seemed like just the ticket.

So going through the yet unexplored hallway, she ventured deeper into the home of Mike's Uncle, and within reasonably short order, found it. It was meant to impress, certainly; the reading room and library was about forty feet wide, with a pair of cushioned chairs and lamps in the center of the room, and bookshelves lined up all along the walls. Along the floor, there were tiny rows of smaller bookshelves, impressive yet not imposing.

Mica was certainly stunned; the collection was large enough that it rivaled the former Argonian Royal Families' personal library at the palace. Still not as impressive as the Argonian Records Center had been, but for a collection on earth, it was nonetheless dauntless…and to her knowledge, all unfamiliar.

Abruptly, a hand reached out from the hidden front side of one of the chairs and gripped the armrest, staying there as a figure leaned to the side and turned about for a better look at the new presence.

Mica blinked in surprise. "Giskard?"

The frumpy Argonian boy nodded his head briefly, keeping careful hold of the open book in his left hand. "Small world, Princess." He turned back around and went back to his first sitting position, oblivious to the rest of the world once more.

Giskard Rorth; that was his full name, but just like the rest of the Argonians, he had given up on that and gone by his first name alone as well. He was by far, the most unusual of the children of nobility that had been exiled from Argonia before its destruction; Mica could recall that even back during court functions and galas, while Ezilian had vamped and Marlin had sought to create chaos, Giskard had always sat in the corner, his face a mask of boredom and contempt.

Little of that had changed. He was still one of the hardest people to gain a bead on, and Mica had known him for her entire life. She couldn't remember many details of when they had been truly young children, but the youth that was nearly two cycles younger than her, she could recall, had been just as dour when he was little.

No matter, she decided with a shake of her head. She strolled around the room, scanning across the spines of all the books present. What still amazed her to no end…was how close common Argonian was to their own 'English', as it had been referred to. The more archaic Argonian, reserved typically for religious and ceremonial occasions, had no connection whatsoever. A few words here and there were different…but she understood the majority of them, could read the words along Dr. Jones' book collection.

If only the options weren't so overwhelming. Shrugging her shoulders, she chose instead to walk over and sit back in the second lounge chair in the room, closing her eyes as she sunk into the soft fabric.

Chairs, Mica thought, were a wonderful thing.

"I think so too, most days." Giskard mumbled halfheartedly, never looking up from his book. Mica opened her eyes back up and glanced over at him curiously, then mentally chastised herself for losing control. A concentrated thought quieted the reach of her mind, and the Shilivre she had unconsciously used faded back out.

One entire side of the room was an enormous window, looking out to the south and to Coralcola Bay. Mica stared out of it for a few moments, watching the fishing boats placidly go back and forth as the natives went about their daily routines. About a quarter mile off, she thought she could make out the figure of Baboo, flailing his arms a few times as a fish flapped in his face, finally falling backwards into the sea. Despite herself, she giggled.

Remembering where she was, she quieted her voice back down and looked over at Giskard. If he was at all disturbed by her presence or antics, the youth showed no sign of it. His eyes burned intensely into the pages with their cool fire, his mouth emotionless as he turned the page and absentmindedly brushed a hand through his mottled mop of hair.

"…You don't talk much, Giskard." Mica finally ventured, breaking the silence.

Giskard paused his reading and glanced above the top of his book, staring back at her. "I never have much of a reason to. Does that bother you?"

"Not really." Mica said quickly, shaking her head. "Actually…it's a welcome change."

"Huh." Giskard grunted, looking back to his text.

Mica felt awkward at that, not used to being the one who had to start conversations. "So…what are you reading?"

In response, Giskard turned another page. "Faust."

"What's it about?"

"Right now, it's about a man who has made a deal with good's counterpart, trading his 'soul' for the unrequited treasures and pleasures of life. Only he's finding it not as fulfilling as he thought it would be." Giskard stated flatly. "But I don't give book reviews, so don't ask me about it again."

Mica bit her lip and looked back out the window again, falling silent. This she did for another few minutes, her thoughts errantly racing about without a pattern or care.

She realized she had lost control of her mind's reach when Giskard sighed and slammed the book shut with an audible thump, resting it flat on his lap and looking over at her. "I see now there is no way I'll be able to finish this in peace until you're gone."

Mica blushed and drew back her Shilivre. "My apologies."

Giskard waved a hand. "You're still better than Marlin any day. He gets on my nerves; you're just keeping me from a very good book."

"I don't mean to get in the way, it's just…" Mica shook her head. "I'm just a little muddled right now, is all."

"Well, that much is obvious." Giskard replied drily. "Any other day, you'd have no problems keeping your inherited strength under control. So did you come here looking for solitude or somebody to talk to?"

Mica's early embarrassment met with annoyance at that, but she contained herself. "I actually thought I would be alone here. If I wanted mindless conversation, I certainly would have sought it elsewhere."

Giskard harrumphed again, but amazingly cracked a smile at that. "Good comeback." He rapped the surface of his book and closed his eyes. "However, mindless conversation isn't my specialty, so we'll have to stick to more engaging topics. So what shall it be, then? Concerns, drifting thoughts? People?"

Mica blanched at the last option. "You're to the point, aren't you?" Giskard nodded curtly. The princess sighed and motioned towards him. "So are you enjoying life here on Coralcola?"

"My basic needs are met, the people are friendly, and I have some semblance of our old civilization left." Giskard replied. "I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it; then again, I didn't enjoy my life much back on Argonia either."

Mica blinked at that. "How could you…"

Giskard stared at her. "Unlike your parents, who were genuinely in love with each other and cared for you, my own were not so accommodating. I suppose you forgot that my parents were the product of an arranged marriage?"

Mica lifted her eyebrows. "I never knew that."

"Well, it wasn't common talk. Nothing good came from that. They saw each other as nothing but windows to their own avenues of advancement…and their only hope for me, when I came along, was that I would become your suitor, and the future king."

"But you didn't." Mica observed. "Ezilian…he became my betrothed."

"Naturally." Giskard harrumphed. "Once that happened…They lost all interest and attention to me. I wasn't even hated by my parents, Mica. They just no longer cared. I couldn't be their golden child to further their own gains, so why bother?"

Mica shut her eyes for a moment. "You never told any of us that."

Giskard snorted. "Who would have listened? They met my basic needs. I had my own tutor, I was fed and clothed and given shelter. But whatever growth I had as a person didn't come from them, it came from myself."

He lifted up his book, displaying the cover. "This was my childhood, Mica. Books, and my desire to learn from them. The world was too much of a mess to even deal with, so I retreated into these."

"…No wonder you're always so grouchy and secluded." Mica said sadly. "I'm sorry."

Giskard's dour face looked more tired than usual as he eased back into his seat and put the book back down. "There's nothing anyone can do about it, so don't feel guilt. And don't go telling anyone else either. Bakusian could give less of a care, Marlin'd tell jokes all day trying to cheer me up, and Ezilian would just be his cruel self. And the last thing I need are those two girls fawning over me."

Mica giggled at that a bit, and for a moment, even Giskard's features lightened.

For a moment.

"I'll keep your secret, Giskard." Mica said, regaining her composure. "It's just…You've never opened up to anyone before. Even back home, you kept to yourself a lot of the time."

"Yes I did." Giskard replied tonelessly. "The world of nobility and parties wasn't my world. That was my parents', and I wanted none of their existence."

"So you became a hermetic scholar instead."

"Naturally. I am everything the world of the nobles wasn't; intelligent, focused, and completely unconcerned with etiquette and traditions. An outlook like that didn't bode well for my connections, so I had to keep it hidden. Here…none of that matters. I can be myself."

Mica was quiet for a moment, then smiled at him. "You know, for someone who claims to hate mindless conversation, you sure can talk a lot."

Giskard shook his head at that. "This is far from mindless, my dear Princess. This is healthy venting. Besides, a part of you has always been curious about me. Allow me to enlighten your missing answers."

"You speak with a maturity I didn't think anyone our age could have." Mica noted.

"I'm not much of a conversationalist, but what I do know comes from books that know of proper form and dialogue, and a good handful of verbiage." He shrugged at that. "Simply put, I speak as if I was myself a book." He stood up and motioned his hands around. "In Argonia, the archives of our planet was my own hideaway. Even here on Earth I have found another trove to delve into. And I can tell you, Mica…these humans are interesting people."

"Oh?"

Giskard shook his head. "I haven't even begun to scratch the surface…but what I have been able to come up with so far is that the islanders are far from the bulk of humanity. We live on an island out in the middle of a grand ocean they call the Pacific; the richest of their kind lives in towering spires of metal and glass and stone, they mastered electricity and even obtained atomic energy. They have spread from a tiny niche at the center of their planet and spread to every inhabitable corner; they have ventured out into space and gone so far as their moon, and sent unmanned probes even farther. They have survived an ice age, plagues, droughts, floods, and starvation. They number so many that they could even match the stars…They are so varied in different respects that they have killed each other, gone to war for their differences."

Giskard shook his head. "They are capable of so many wonders…and yet they struggle and squabble, so easily turned to their base instincts. If they could ever realize how much more there is out there…how small they truly are, and how fragile this world and their existence is…then they could reach out and forever change the shape of the stars." He sighed and sat back down. "Sadly, it seems that there are too many forces within their own sphere committed to keeping them from ever reaching up to the heavens. They may survive, they're stubborn enough…but they're far more likely to never escape their own filth than grow."

Mica lowered her head. "Mike and I talked about that same thing once." She looked at her palm. "His people have never been forced to recognize the greater Universe."

"And they could not start with us." Giskard said sagely, shaking his head. "As much as our presence, were it revealed to humanity's leaders and populace, might rattle things up and force them to reach, I much prefer my solitude and freedom. As, I feel, we all do."

Mica nodded at that, and Giskard laid his book aside, lifting a leg up onto the other and folding his hands in his lap. "So then. You and Mike, eh?"

The Princess blinked. "Beg'r pardon?"

Giskard rolled his eyes. "Don't assume I'm as dumb as the others, Seremichaela. They're busy trying to fit in, to recover. Seeing as I had little love for my family or for the society I lived in, I had no need to do either, and that freed me up to observe and watch the world around me. One of the things I've had the opportunity to observe…is how you and Mike have gotten closer these last few days. Or at least, you seemed more than just conciliatory yesterday morning."

Mica's eyes narrowed. You've been using Shilivre?

Giskard's face remained normal as he shook his head. "I have not. Just my eyes and my mind, and those have been enough."

"…Was I that obvious?"

"In all the years I have known you, I've never seen you smile the way you did when you and Mike got done with fishing. It…was relaxing, really. I've seen you fake plenty of good moods, trying to uphold civility and act as an example for the rest of us." Giskard pointed at her. "No, you've always been a reserved person, and you were moreso after we were pulled from the cubes. I can respect that." Giskard's thoughtful eyes glanced over her. "But you weren't that secluded person yesterday…and today, you're not sure how to feel. So knowing those things…I can only make the conclusion that our dear Mike Jones was the source of your changed mood yesterday."

Giskard looked down at his book. "His departure has affected you just as much."

Mica looked down at her feet. "You…Bana…It seems like everyone knows how I should feel, except me."

Giskard snorted at that. "What, you're expecting me to give you advice on your feelings, of all things? I'm sorry, Princess, but I make observations and deal with the scholarly issues in life. It's not my jurisdiction to tell you how to live one." He glanced through the window, then back down to his book. "You didn't come here for that, anyhow."

Mica stood up. "True enough. Anything else I might learn from you?"

"Oh, you could learn plenty. You'd just find most of it extraordinarily boring and useless." Giskard answered, a slight bit of mirth rising in his tone. He opened Faust back up and found his page again. "But if you're that hard up for some little nugget of wisdom…Well, far be it from me to not fulfill my Princess' query."

Mica folded her arms. "This is going to be better than most of what I've heard today."

Giskard rested the spine of the book on his lap and left his finger on the exact word he had stopped at. He turned up to her, blinking a few times before harrumphing, his face's stony gaze restored.

"The only voice worth heeding in life is your own, Princess Mica. Nobody can tell you how to live it but you, and nobody should try. So don't let them tell you how; just start living it, and go with what feels right. Only then will you be able to go through existence without guilt…even though, no matter what you do, you'll always carry regrets."

Giskard spoke with force in his words, and a push that was for him, a great deal of emotion all at once. It soaked into Mica like nothing else had that day; maybe because it came from a fellow Argonian, maybe because it came from a friend. Maybe because Giskard hadn't been trying to boss her around, hadn't even wanted a conversation until she'd unwittingly forced it.

Maybe because she understood Giskard in a way that nobody else did now. And that openness was something she didn't see much of.

Gently, she walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with a gentle smile. Thank you.

He blinked, receiving her telepathic message clear as day. "For speaking my mind? For not being like the others? That I can't help…but you're welcome all the same."

Mica chuckled at that. "You know, when there's nobody else around, it's okay to use Shilivre."

Giskard glanced at her hand, then up at her face. A sad smile glanced across his own, making Mica almost shudder in surprise. He reached his free hand up and patted hers, looking back down at his book in shame.

"…If I could."

Dumbstruck, Mica reached out with her senses to try and feel his own presence.

It was not there.

"You…you can't…" She began, horrific realization setting in.

Giskard turned the page in his book, no longer able to look back up at her. "Funny thing about parents whose only concern for their child is what can be gained from his use. They tend to stop paying attention once it's made painfully apparent he can never hope to fulfill the role of suitor."

Mica pulled her hand back, shaking her head. "I…I didn't know."

"Nobody did." Giskard snorted, turning the page again, blasting through the text. "It was the best kept secret of the nobility, and the most shameful thing to ever befall the line of Rorth. The only son of the line…utterly devoid of the mystical power that separated the elite few from the huddling masses they ruled. That's why I couldn't be your betrothed, Mica. In their eyes…I was no better than a commoner. The title…and none of the power."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Giskard said, harsher than he had meant to be. "Don't be." He said again, quieter. "I've compensated for it, and in this world…I at least have a chance to be myself. There's no guilt left in me."

"Just regrets."

"…There's always room for regret." Giskard mused, motioning towards the door. "Just do us both a favor…and don't go down my road. Make your own, and give yourself a little less to regret about."

Shaking her head and smiling at the wisdom in that, Mica strolled back out for the exit. She paused in the doorway and turned around, staring towards the back of his chair.

"I'll keep this between us, if that's okay. And Giskard? I…"

"…Do you feel better than you were when you came in here?" Giskard interrupted abruptly.

"W…well, yes…"

"Then there's nothing left to say. Let me finish my reading in peace." The grouchy Argonian concluded.

Mica smiled at that, but didn't argue with the wisdom. She left the library, no longer feeling the urge to run away. Maybe a walk along the shore would do the trick…

Back in the library, a single drop of moisture fell down and soaked into the corner of Giskard's next page. His free hand came up and brushed at his face, and the droplet spread out and left a watermark on the previously pristine paper.

"There's always regret." Giskard remarked to himself, so quiet that he could barely hear himself say it.

He reached back down to turn the page…

And ignored the fact his other hand was shaking on the armrest.

---

The eastern lip of Coralcola's north shore could best be described as a lookout point. The edge of it had no beach to speak of, choosing instead to become a jutting outcrop of grass and land with a small cliff to guide it. Surely, Mica thought, nobody would be there.

As she walked along the rim of the piled stones that grew larger the farther towards the sinking sun she went, she noticed an odd formation of stones close to the edge, out of place with the others.

The closer she came, Mica discovered something. Those weren't stones.

They were people. She frowned at her discovery, then for a reason that was simply instinctive, darted quickly into the rocks and approached at a slower speed. Whoever they were, they hadn't noticed her. So she kept on walking, keeping low to the ground and keeping as silent as she could muster.

Closer in, at fifty feet, she could make out Ezilian's face, smiling at his companion and wrapping an arm around their shoulder. No…her shoulder. Female. Mica frowned and came in closer still, perking her ears up to hear the conversation.

"…All in all, I'd have to say that today's treated me rather well." Ezilian said cheerfully, hugging the girl closer. "Good food, good company, and all my problems just up and decided to leave."

"Your problems? I thought you said he was a problem for all of us." The girl replied meekly. Mica's ears jumped up at that, and her eyes narrowed. It was Amethyst, her hair unfurled from its two buns to let hang loose; outside of the voice, she was almost unrecognizable from behind.

Ezilian clucked his tongue at that. "True, that he was. He would disrupt everything…ruin everything, had we not acted when we did."

As Mica watched horrorstruck, Ezilian leaned over and kissed Amethyst on the forehead and nose, causing the girl to giggle. "You're my hero, you know that? You did well this morning."

"Oh, quiet you." Amethyst blushed, pushing him back. "You must say that to Mica all the time."

Ezilian chuffed at that, acting offended even as he smiled his confident grin. "Not so, my little crystal flower. I'm Mica's betrothed…she needs no sweet words from me."

Had Mica not been so stunned by what she saw, she might have felt obligated to announce her presence, to suddenly appear and end whatever little soiree the two were involved in. But as Ezilian's fingers crept in closer and tickled the soft flesh of Amethyst's neck, causing the girl to arch her back with a sigh, the only command Princess Mica's body responded to was paralyzing disbelief.

"Besides, Amethyst…How can I be expected to love someone I've been paired up with since we were little?" Ezilian pouted, lowering his free arm to wrap it around her waist.

"…So you don't love her?"

"Not like I love you, my dear." Ezilian crooned, pulling her in for a kiss that made Mica's face burn in rage.

Unwittingly, her hand began to clench and unclench in anger. Because now it was all beginning to make sense.

Everything that Bana had said to her.

All the warnings she had been given about Ezilian. All of her future husband's words and motivations. And Giskard…even his life found connection, as she stared aghast at the two, whispering sweet nothings and fondling each other.

"And now there's no Mike to complicate things, is there?" Ezilian laughed a bit, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, I wish I could have seen the look on his face when you told him that Mica didn't want him around…It must have been priceless."

"He…Was upset after that." Amethyst said hesitatingly. "I think that's why he left. I don't think I could do it again…"

"Oh, you won't have to." Ezilian consoled her, lightly tracing a fingertip along the side of her face and then moving down to tickle her collarbone. "No, I think we've seen the last of our dear Mike Jones…And the last of his meddling presence."

Mica's blood, boiling in infuriation at the infidelity Ezilian displayed, ran cold in an instant as he said that. Because now she knew why Mike had left in such a hurry…

Ezilian had made Amethyst lie to Mike. Had made her say something so horrible that Mike had dropped everything, gone away from everyone, and ventured out into the ocean with the intention of never having to return.

She could stay still no longer, as the ice in her veins shattered under the heat and allowed jagged shards of murderous intent to flow through her boiling bloodstream. Barely aware of anything else but Ezilian's conniving, controlling grin, and Amethyst's fawning attentions, she stepped out from behind the rocks and marched towards them with hands drawn into fists.

Traditional Argonian sensitivity to sound failed the would-be lovebirds as their Princess stomped up behind them and punched Ezilian hard in the shoulder, sending him sprawling out onto the grass with a surprised grunt of pain. Amethyst gasped and recoiled away, jumping from the stone the two had been sitting on.

Awestruck, Ezilian righted himself with a hand pressed against the sore spot Mica had created. He blinked a few times, then shook his head. "…Mica? What are you doing here?"

Mica stood taut like a bowstring as her breath rushed in and out of her lungs with ferocious speed, despite her best attempts at self-control. Red rage flushed in her cheeks, even as the color drained out of Ezilian's and especially Amethyst, who turned away in shame and put more distance between them.

Mica pointed an angry finger at Ezilian, her dazzling eyes of starlight burning with the flame of a star gone nova. "Something far more innocent than you were doing." She choked out, shaking her head. "To think that you and Amethyst…all this time…" She shook her head. "Just how long has this been going on?!"

Amethyst regained her voice. "Since…since we got here, I suppose."

Mica bit her lip. "I see." She turned to Ezilian, her fingers digging into her palm. "I can't believe you."

Ezilian picked himself up, clearing his throat. "Mica, I…"

"SAVE IT." Mica growled. "That you would plot and connive and make Amethyst lie to Mike, make him run off like that…"

"I really don't see why you're so offended." Ezilian said calmly, flexing his arm. "I mean, Mike came to Coralcola for a vacation, and to spend time with his Uncle, so he's really…"

Mica's glower darkened, and a gentle aura of light slowly began to rise around her, stopping Ezilian midsentence. "That still doesn't change the fact you've been trying to get rid of him for some time now, you Drekmal."

Ezilian blanched. "Princess, such language…"

Mica took a step closer to him, then stopped herself, still shaking her head. "All this time, I just couldn't see it...no, I didn't WANT to see it…"

Ezilian's eyes narrowed, his previous defensive position vanishing. "All right, I admit it. I think Mike Jones is nothing but a bad influence on you. I think his presence serves to do only one thing; distract you from your responsibilities as leader of your people. And I think that you have forgotten your obligations!"

"Inchab my obligations!" Mica screamed, a tear burning in her eye. Amethyst gasped at the malediction, but the daughter of Hirocon paid her no mind. "What obligations, Ezilian? To rule?! To rule what? There's nothing left, damnit! Our home was destroyed by Zoda, our family, everything we knew and loved is gone!"

"While that may be the case, we nonetheless have the ability to rebuild here!" Ezilian argued back. "The Argonian race is not extinct, not by a longshot! You're so caught up in Mike's lines about just 'being yourself' and finding a new way to live that you've been ignoring that possibility…that DUTY you carry."

Head pounding, Mica closed her eyes for a moment, still able to make out Ezilian's form as clear as day with her mind's vision. "And just what duty would I have left to carry out to a race whose only survivors are four boys, two girls, and myself?"

Ezilian almost sneered at that, swaggering a few steps closer to her. "Why…continuing the royal line, of course…ensuring that the legacy of Sellarus lives on."

Mica had never truly enjoyed Ezilian's company. They had known since they were little that one day, they would be forced to marry. He had always taken that fact for granted, and because of it, she carried no great affection for him. She had worked to simply get along with him, a process that had been difficult on Argonia; and nigh impossible, ever since they had been restored to full form here on Earth. For the longest time, she had resigned herself to the idea that the marriage would simply occur; and that, for better or worse, she would grin and bear it as a part of her royal duty, bring forth new life, and carry on the legacy her mother had left to her, as her mother had before her.

But now as they stood on the edge of Coralcola, on a grassy cliff above the foamy crashing waves, that resignation no longer existed. Now in its place was abject horror and disgust…

That such a faithless and philandering man had been chosen to become her life partner, indeed, to RULE Argonia…

Giskard's words, and his life ringing hard and fresh in her ears, she turned away from the two and shook her head. "Never."

Ezilian's smirk vanished in a blink. "What?"

Mica lifted her head up and started to walk away. "You are fool and a wretch of a man, Ezilian Tyrene. I will have no part in such a contract…"

"You can't escape it, Mica." Ezilian growled, marching up to her and gripping onto her shoulder with firm fingers. "It was royal decree long ago..."

She whipped her head about, eyes brimming with tears, but underneath those, a fury that screams could not temper. The gentle aura around her exploded in a locus of blinding light, and the potent burst of her innate Shilivre sunk into Ezilian's skull with the force of a sledgehammer. He recoiled in pain, crying out only once as he collapsed to the ground, writhing about and curling in on himself, his eyes screwed shut and his hands never once leaving his skull.

"The past is dead, Ezilian." Mica chirped bitterly. "I'll make my own damned destiny, one without your betrothal. If my father were alive…if he knew how cold and unworthy you truly were, he would have revoked our arranged marriage in an instant. As the sole heir to the throne…I act with his authority."

Ezilian was still in too much in pain to respond, and Amethyst cried out and knelt down next to him, drawing him in and reaching out with her own, less destructive mental energies to soothe his pain.

The tears came freer now for Mica, and she shook her head at the young Amethyst, who looked up at her in a combination of guilt, disbelief, and hurt feelings.

"I've just done you a favor now, Amethyst." Mica choked out, forcing her aura to subside and vanish, along with her powers. "He's back on the market…this way, you can have him all you like, just the way you two want it. And now, you can do it without the shame of being labeled as a simple concubine."

The Argonian girl blushed at the comment and hid her face from the Princess.

Mica felt sick to her stomach, the more she remained there.

So she did the only thing she could;

She took off running. Anywhere but here.

Anywhere but there.

---

Coralcola Island

June 26th, 1990 A.D.

6:27 P.M.

"…is is Sub-C, radioing to C-Central. Baboo, do you copy?"

Baboo looked up from his microwaved dinner of instant noodles, staring at the blinking communication radio he'd taken with him from the dock. "Must be checking in." He grabbed the radio and pushed in the talk button. "This is Baboo, Sub-C. How's the seas tonight, doctor?"

"They're fine, Baboo, just fine." Dr. Jones replied with a chuckle. "I just thought I'd give you a bit of forewarning; we made it a couple of hours out, before I realized we'd forgotten something. We turned back around, and if Nav-Com's estimates are right, we're about fifteen minutes from port."

Baboo stared at the radio. "Coming back? It must have been something important for you to stop your trip. Shall I grab it for you, so you can depart immediately?"

There was a pause on the line for a few moments before Dr. Jones responded. "No, no rush. We'll just set out tomorrow; I'll have at least one more night then to sleep in my own bed."

Just then, Giskard walked into the kitchen with a book slung under his arm. He looked at Baboo and blinked a few times. "Something up?"

Baboo covered the radio's receiver with his hand and nodded. "Doctor Jones and Mike are returning; it seems they forgot something when they left this morning."

Giskard aahed and nodded his head, walking over and taking a seat beside Baboo. "What's that?" He asked, pointing to Baboo's dinner.

"Instant noodles…They're called ramen."

Giskard took a smell of them from his chair and grunted. "Smells delicious to me. Think they'd mind if I made some? I've been in the library all day."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to ask." Baboo smiled, punching the talk button again. "Doctor Jones, I have Giskard here with me, and he wanted to know if he might try some of your ramen."

"The way I order it by the freight case, that's no worry. Go ahead, Giskard, have a few on me!" Dr. Jones chuckled.

"Fantastic." Giskard muttered, jumping off of his chair and leaving his book behind. "Where does he keep them, Baboo?"

"Try the upper cabinet to your left." Baboo offered. He turned back to the radio. "Well Doctor Jones, you've just made his evening. If I might ask, what exactly did you forget?"

"Oh, just some resources from my first field notebooks. They have some vital decryptions and ideas necessary if I am to decipher the ancient script in those ruins…as well as to determine if they're Argonian or not."

Over at the cabinet, Giskard paused in his ramen retrieval and perked his ears up. He glanced back at Baboo, narrowing an eyebrow. "…Did I just hear him right? Argonian? Ancient script?"

Baboo nodded at that, and Giskard frowned. "Let me talk to him for a moment." Baboo was surprised for a bit, but handed over the radio without prompting a single question.

"Doc, this is Giskard…did I hear you right? You think there's Argonian script in some ruins?"

"Not just any ruins, Giskard." Dr. Jones corrected him. "The ruins that we found your escape pod in. If my hunch is correct…then there may be more to Argonia's relationship to Earth than I once thought."

Giskard narrowed both his eyebrows at that. "I see." He mulled over a thought in his head for a moment, then punched the talk button down. "Doc, I haven't been the best of houseguests here on the island…If you'd allow me to do a small favor, might I take a look at your notebooks?"

"…You think you might be able to understand them?"

"If it is Argonian…archaic or otherwise…I should be able to. I'm a bit of a bookworm." Giskard answered calmly.

"…Well, all right then. Baboo, you should find the laminated and bound photocopies of my field notebooks in the blue file cabinet in my laboratory. Do you think you could get them to Giskard for me?"

Baboo nodded at that, and slurping down the last of his noodles, turned around and headed for the laboratory at his brisk pace.

Giskard squeezed the transceiver. "He's on his way."

"Good to know. Well, I suppose we'll see the both of you soon enough then. This is Sub-C, signing off." Dr. Jones concluded, the radio chirping with static one last time before going quiet.

Giskard set the radio down next to his book and looked at the ramen in his free hand.

"…I suppose dinner will have to wait." Giskard murmured. "I've got some questions of my own I want answered too, and if Dr. Jones is right about his hunch…"

The Argonian shook his head. That was some distance off, and despite the sudden flaring questions that had become ignited, he had other things to worry about.

Like what the other Argonians once they found out that the Jones clan had returned.

---

Down in the village, the rest of the Argonians, minus Princess Mica, were calmly eating dinner along with the rest of the villagers. It was a relatively quiet evening, and despite Marlin's best attempts to lighten their spirits, Ezilian and Amethyst proved insatiably stony.

"Bana n' I worked on a quilt today!" Rozlyn chirped excitedly, looking around after setting down her cup of water.

"Did you now?" Bakusian asked, a smile on his face. "Did you get much done?"

"Enough." Bana said, shrugging. "All things worth keeping take time and effort to make. And speaking of effort…Brother, how goes your diet?"

"Fine." Hapo Omoy grumbled, gnawing halfheartedly at another celery stalk. The look of disappointment in his eyes wasn't lost upon the elderly sage, who smiled knowingly and folded her arms at the comment.

"That's good to hear. Perhaps I will receive a more positive message from the spirits about you one day."

"Hey, has anyone seen Giskard lately?" Marlin asked, glancing about with a worried expression on his face. After seeing a few people shake their heads, the boy harrumphed. "I wonder where he got himself off to…"

A figure blasted into the communal hut, huffing and out of breath after a long run. All eyes turned towards the unexpected visitor, but it was Hapo who spoke, the natives deferring to him out of respect.

"Baboo, how are you this evening?" Hapo Omoy asked amiably. He motioned towards the table. "Eat with us, please."

Baboo shook his head. "I've already had dinner…but I came with news."

Hapo blinked. "Important enough to make you run?"

"All the way from Doctor Jones' laboratory, yes." Baboo replied, wheezing a bit. "They're coming back…Mike and Dr. Jones will be back on Coralcola in a few minutes."

Ezilian paled for a moment, putting a hand to his forehead as if a sudden headache had claimed him. Marlin's face brightened, however.

"All right! I knew that Mike couldn't leave us without saying goodbye first!" He looked to Bakusian, all smiles. "Whaddid I tell ya, huh? Whaddid I tell ya?" The other boy smiled at that, biting off another piece of fish without a care.

"It must have been something important for them to cut their trip short." Amethyst commented softly.

"It was; Dr. Jones had left some of his notebooks behind, and he needed them." Baboo explained. "Dr. Jones plans to leave tomorrow morning, after a good night's sleep."

"…And if Mike knows what's good for him, he'll leave then too." Ezilian muttered softly. Amethyst knew what he had said, and even Bakusian and Marlin had heard. Everybody else had only heard nonsensical mumblings.

Bana turned to address the boy, her calm eyes filled with volumes. Even without clarity, she'd understood the emotions behind his statement. "What was that, Ezilian?"

"Nothing." Ezilian said, shrugging off the question with a wave of his hand. "Just talking to myself is all." He turned back to his food, remaining quiet after that.

"We should tell Giskard that they're coming back…" Rozlyn began, glancing about. Baboo smiled at that and threw back his wild mane of hair.

"No need to worry about that, miss. Giskard was with me at Dr. Jones' place when I got the radio phone call."

"Oh." Rozyln mumbled, deflated.

"Still, there's one person that doesn't know they've come back." Marlin noted, raising a finger. "Princess Mica. I haven't seen her since early this afternoon myself…how about the rest of you?"

No was heard all around, and amazingly, nobody caught the guilty look that blossomed on Amethyst's face once more. Ezilian remained as stony as he always was, when he wasn't seeking to impress.

It was Bana who cleared her throat. "She's resting in my quarters…She came back a few hours ago, and she wasn't feeling the best. I'm bringing her dinner later, so I'll tell her then. Meantime, let the poor girl sleep."

"She got sick?" Bakusian chuffed. "Geez, that's not good. Well, give her my best then, would you ma'am?"

"I certainly will, Bakusian." Bana offered with a smile. She looked around the room one last time and stood up. "Well, if our exploring relatives from the land of Americola are going to be coming back soon, I think we had all best make some preparations, don't you?"

All fell into agreement at that, and quickly scampered from dinner about to accomplish what had to be done.

A silent Bana, watching from the shadows of her hut, watched Amethyst and Ezilian stroll off together, the boy's face dark as he uttered some quiet and tersely worded phrases to his accomplice.

Bana's eyes glinted in the light of the central tribal fires. "They don't have time for this nonsense..." A hand went to her forehead, fighting the pulsing headache that blossomed in it. "And neither do I."

---

The cockpit bubble of Sub-C burst out of the water and cleared the depths of the natural cavern that served as its main harbor. In the fluorescent lighting of the chamber, the rippling water about the vehicle shimmered against the walls and ceilings, stopped only by the monitoring console hardwired to Sub-C by the dry entrance.

"Sub-C's destination attained." Nav-Com chirped, turning its boxlike head about to look at its passengers. Dr. Jones rested a hand on the pilot droid's shoulder, sighing.

"Nav-Com, begin power recharge from harbor circuit."

"Affirmative…" Nav-Com replied, silently activating the necessary functions. Outside, an infared guided socket arm extended from the side of the sub, bending up before moving slowly towards the weatherproofed power box. "Note; recharge will take three hours."

"That'll work." Dr. Jones nodded. "We'll be leaving for Howduyadocola tomorrow morning, Nav-Com. Set the itinerary to reflect that."

In the second seat, Mike hunched down and leaned his head into his arms. "You're sure we can't just leave tonight?"

"I'm afraid not." Dr. Jones replied calmly, stepping out towards the hatch. "As much as you seem to want to…getting cold feet on me?"

"I'm just not sure if I want to face this." Mike stood up, closing his eyes.

"Butterflies in your stomach?" His Uncle asked, stepping up on the first rung.

"Heh…feels more like a hornet's nest." Mike chuckled weakly.

"Understandable." Steve Jones harrumphed, grabbing at the hatch out of Sub-C. Turning the wheel about with several cranks of his strong hand, he grunted for a moment. "But in my experience, Mike…I've always found that the only way I could ever move on was to face things head on."

"You told me something like this before already." Mike corrected his relative. Uncle Steve smiled at that as he finished opening the hatch and popped it open with a hiss of air.

"Then I suppose that means I really want you to pay attention to the lesson now, doesn't it?" Dr. Jones chuckled a bit before climbing out. "You can stay in Sub-C as long as you like…but it isn't leaving until tomorrow, so it won't do you any good. Just talk to her. That's the only way that you'll be able to figure out one way or another what you're going to do for the rest of your time here."

"…It's that easy, huh?" Mike called out after his Uncle, his voice shaky. Dr. Jones kept quiet, stepping out of the sub and out of earshot.

Nav-Com turned towards Mike, his optics zooming into focus. "Communication is a necessary component to optimal relations." The robot offered, chirping what little semblance of advice it was capable of.

Mike ran a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. "Nav-Com, shut up."

"That command is invalid. Please specify."

The Seattle native walked towards the hatch, grabbing onto the ladder and climbing his way out.

"Forget it, bub." He chastised himself. "She's a Princess, and you're…"

You're what, Mike? Just what are you?

He turned to the water as he climbed onto the roof of Sub-C, staring down into his reflection. He saw a boy unsure of himself staring back, one whose heart screamed a truth the rest of him could not rectify.

"I'm me." Mike said dully. "No matter what else happens…I'm me."

He looked at his reflection again. "And…no matter what...I can't lie to myself."

I love her.

He blinked. A part of him still disbelieved he'd said that, so he ran it again. "I love her."

A part of his tension drained away as he said it, bringing relief and incredulous euphoria along with it. He brought his hand into a fist, staring at it. "I love Mica."

Not Princess Mica. Not heir to the throne of Argonia. Just a girl.

Just a girl he hadn't been able to stop thinking about since he'd first met her.

He tilted his head back, smiling. As if chains long kept around his chest had suddenly vanished, he drew in a breath, tasting the air's sweetness for the first time since he'd left.

He didn't know what Mica would say. He didn't know how she felt. But last night, he was the only person she turned to…And for that, he felt as though there was something worth holding onto.

Perhaps there was something more than they had both once given their relationship credit for. But this was getting him nowhere.

He turned back around, eyes glimmering with newfound focus. He had to see her.

His head turned northwards inside of the cavern, staring at the exit that led into the rest of his uncles' home.

Beyond there, he felt something pulling him in. A familiar stretch of shore they both shared…

"She'll be there." He said quietly, hope burning in his heart. "She'll be there."

He took off running.

Further inside the mansion, Dr. Jones ventured into the kitchen, glancing about. "Baboo? Giskard?"

"I'm right here, Doctor Jones." Giskard called out. When the archaeologist found him, the boy was staring intently at the journals, his usually dour eyes flickering with a half crazed light.

"You found something?"

"No…" Giskard replied slowly, shutting his eyes and looking up at Dr. Jones with amazement. "You found something. Something I don't rightly understand myself…something that needs explaining."

"But the cipher; the script? You understand them?"

"The cipher…" Giskard began, shaking his head after a moment. "It's a jumble of both modern Argonian, which was the part I'm assuming you could translate, as well as ancient Argonian and something else entirely. The ancient is intertwined so fully with the unknown code I couldn't help you any there." He pounded his fist on the open notebook, an honest grin appearing on his face as the thrill of a new discovery went through him. "But this…You were right all along, Doctor. It wasn't just coincidence that brought us here; Hirocon didn't just dump us on Earth because it was far away and filled with a nurturing environment and a growing civilization of its own…"

Dr. Jones sat down next to Giskard, looking as the boy pushed the notebook between them. "This…is all ancient Argonian. All it was used for when we were back home was for ceremonies, formal oaths…very limited occasions. Most people only memorized the necessary lines and stuck with those, because learning it all was a complicated mess."

"But what does it say?" Dr. Jones urged, his voice rising. "What does it mean?"

Giskard cleared his throat, then began slowly. "Ularij mahk har…Trokaz muk'h Ellinor." Giskard looked at Dr. Jones. "Roughly translated…Here the children of the stars came; Here, the explorers of the Starseer found one at the darkness."

Dr. Jones blinked. "But…what does that mean?"

Giskard closed the notebook and pushed it to the archaeologist, shaking his head. "Your guess is as good as mine…Argonian records never were the best about anything involving immediate concern, and this is something I never was aware of before. It could be anything, really…" Giskard leaned in next to Dr. Jones, his eyes glinting. "…But whatever it is, this is something important to us, as well as you. And I want to come with."

Dr. Jones blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Take me with you." Giskard pleaded. "The Coralcolans…They mean well, I know they do…but I've gone too long without being challenged, too long without something to keep my mind occupied. This awoke something in me, and now I can't stop thinking about it."

"Well, Sub-C is a two person vehicle, is all…" Dr. Jones said calmly. "Mike and I were going to go together, but if you can find some way to convince him…"

At that very moment, Mike came dashing by. "Mike!" Giskard called out loudly. The boy halted midstep and turned to face the two. "What?" Dr. Jones' nephew asked, seeming unfocused.

"I think I may be able to help Doctor Jones on his expedition…But I'd have to take your place. Would that be all right?"

Dr. Jones looked at his nephew, unsure what the boy's response would be.

Mike nodded his head. "Sure, Giskard. I…Don't think I'll be running anymore." Mike ran a hand through his hair. "I've got a lot of things to do around here…and some people to talk to anyhow. Take my spot, and help out my Uncle as much as you can."

"Considering this boy's talent for linguistics, and his familiarity with his peoples' old tongue…I'd say he's going to be a tremendous help." Dr. Jones replied, shaking his head. "To think I had such a powerful tool underneath my nose this entire time…Incredible, just incredible. Giskard, you've got to learn to speak up more."

"I didn't have anything important to say before." Giskard shrugged, still grinning. "Now…I guess I do."

Mike nodded at that, then turned and took off running out of the house. Giskard looked after him as he ran off, frowning. "Now where's he off to in such a hurry?"

Dr. Jones clucked and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's not the only person who has something important to say. But never you mind about that. Why don't we keep working on this for a while? The more we have translated out of my books before we leave, the better. Have you eaten dinner yet? Mike grabbed a bite in Sub-C earlier, but I'm feeling famished myself." Dr. Jones stood up and walked over to the refrigerator.

Giskard let his head fall to the side. "Well, actually…I never did cook those instant noodles you said I could have. I've been kind of busy looking through this stuff." He motioned towards the abandoned ramen sitting on the counter.

Dr. Jones looked at the supply, smiled, and then opened up the cupboard to take out two more packages. "You know, that doesn't sound too bad at all. You keep reading, Giskard, and I'll make us some dinner."

"Works for me, Doctor."

"Just call me doc." Dr. Jones chuckled. "You'll make me nervous otherwise."

Giskard opened one of the notebooks back up and began to look through it, his eyes darting from line to line. "Doc, eh? This could turn out to be the start of something very enlightening."

"The phrase is 'this could be the beginning of a wonderful relationship', Giskard." Dr. Jones replied with a laugh.

Giskard didn't bother offering another reply, once again too engrossed in the pages before him.

Dr. Jones couldn't help but smile at that; Giskard seemed all too much like he had been once.

---

Mica sat in the island shaman's cabin, blankets pulled up around her shoulders. She had tried sleeping, only to find she couldn't. Bana had given her a knowing look when she'd come in, face streaked with tears and her world shattered. The woman, bless her soul, hadn't bothered her since then.

Mica pulled her knees up to her chest, looking down at her feet. It had taken her a while to stop crying, but the desire to hadn't left her. Eventually, she'd simply run out of tears, and that had been enough.

Bana stepped back inside the hut, carrying a hollowed out bowl made of coconut shell with steaming liquid inside of it. The shaman walked over to Mica and sat down next to the girl, offering the bowl. "I thought you might be thirsty, so I brought you some tea."

Mica took the bowl into her hands and took a tentative sip, a sweet taste hitting the back of her throat and causing her to drink more. Bana smiled and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Not so fast now; it's hot."

"What's in it?"

"Honey." Bana explained. "I find that a little honey does wonders to make such a drink go down easier."

"It does." Mica said gratefully. "Thank you, Bana."

Bana exhaled a long breath, almost as if yawning. "I do only what any concerned person would." She squeezed Mica's shoulder. "And you needed some comforting."

Mica finished the tea off and handed the bowl back, her face as dull as it had been when Bana had come in. "You…you were right all along, Bana."

Bana closed her eyes. "Child, there are days I wish I wasn't. This day, especially…"

"No, you can't help it." Mica snuffled, shaking her head. "Your insight is a talent, not a curse. I just wasn't willing to believe…That Ezilian was like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Mica stated. "It's better this way…Better that I now know where his heart lies than before the day of maturation."

"Why is that?"

"He was to be my husband." Mica uttered coldly. "When I was to turn 18…he and I would wed, to ensure that the line of Sellarus was carried on."

Bana folded her arms. "Really now." She said, not as much of a question as it was an invitation for Mica to take the explanation at her own pace.

"But that can't happen now. He had been pursuing Amethyst ever since we got here. If he's that unfaithful…if he never cared at all about the vows we had to take when we were little, and it was all just some game to him, a way for him to gain power, then I can't allow it."

"So you've severed ties with him then?"

"In my mind, I have." Mica said quietly, closing her eyes. "It's…making it real that will cause problems. Everyone else has an expectation that I'll fulfill that role. Ezilian counted on it."

Despite herself, another tear came forth, fueled by the tea Bana had just given her. In an instant, the old shaman had pulled the girl into a comforting hug.

"I'm sorry it turned out so badly…"

"You knew, didn't you?" Mica sniffed.

"I knew there was something in his spirit that put me ill at ease, if that's what you mean." Bana replied. "I did not know what form it would take, though. I just tried to warn you…"

"…And I was too stubborn to listen to you."

"No, not to me." Bana corrected the girl. "Your heart."

Mica pulled away from the shaman, blinking at her. "My heart was unsure about Ezilian. Now it is. I never loved him, and I won't allow myself to be married to a man who can't stay faithful."

The witch doctor crossed her arms, looking expectantly at the girl. Mica frowned, unsure. "What?"

"I just thought you might like to know something before you go off and think that all your doubts are resolved." Bana said. "Dr. Jones and Mike returned home not long ago…And Mike's staying."

Mica felt a familiar ache in her heart start to pound away, and she climbed out of the bed, shrugging off the blankets. "Why?"

"Well, Giskard is taking his place on Sub-C. It seems your grouchy friend can be of some use to the doctor in his pursuits. But as for Mike…No, I think there's more reason to his decision to stay here than simply giving Giskard his seat."

Mica looked towards the door. "You think? Or you know?"

"You know, Mica." The shaman chuffed. "What I know isn't the issue here; it's what you're aware of, yet refuse to accept."

Mica covered her eyes with a hand. "It's not that simple."

"I know one thing is for certain." Bana commented. "It won't get any easier if you just try to avoid him by hiding in here all day."

"It won't get any harder, either." Mica retorted, moving towards the window and folding her arms over her chest.

Bana sighed and moved to her chair, resting back into the creaking wood. "Just what are you so afraid of? Him?"

"No." Mica said quietly.

"Of what the others might think if you started listening to your heart?"

"No."

"Then why won't you go talk to him?"

"Because…" Mica began haltingly, fingers curling and uncurling against her arm. "…Because if my own feelings are as justified as his…"

She bowed her head, unable to finish the sentence.

Calmly, Bana shut her eyes and began to go through her meditative exercises, readying herself. "I must prepare myself to receive the message of the stars now, Mica. Whatever you do is your own concern…I've said as much as I can."

Slowly, Bana's breathing crept to a crawl, and the tautness in her muscles relaxed as she reached a place between dreams and the waking world.

At the other end of the room, Mica opened up the curtain to Bana's window and peered outside, staring up at the falling sunset, and the flush of stars against nightshade that followed it.

"I'm surrounded by people who want nothing more than to make me feel at ease…and I'm still alone."

Mica's eyes glimmered as she looked up towards the stars in the southern cross. "Mom…what should I do?"

---

Coralcola Island: North Shore

June 26th, 1990 A.D.

9:38 P.M.

Mike didn't know how long ago he'd run out here. His mind, once frantic and now just lost in reflection, had long ago given up on trying to figure out how long he'd been here as well. But it had been long enough for the sun to set and for the stars to bristle in their opening flurry.

He sat on a piece of driftwood on the northern shore; the same chunk of flotsam he had been to countless times before. He could recall how it had begun; Princess Mica had found it first, and Mike second, shortly after the nightmares of Zoda began to affect him. At first, the two had opted for silence. Not long ago, they finally began chipped and short conversation, Mike trying to strike up small talk and the Princess deflecting it at every turn.

And then…breakthrough. Mike had dropped his own shields, left himself open to her, and she'd responded in kind. After that came genuine conversation…smiles…and laughter.

Mike closed his eyes. He should have seen it coming long ago, but he hadn't. Ever since he'd laid eyes on her, something in the way she held herself, her innate grace, had struck a chord in him. He'd realized only last night what it had meant, and he still cursed himself for it.

All his doubts, all his fears, and all his problems aside, he found solace in her presence. And he had known, if he didn't tell her, that nothing good could come from ignoring it.

But that had been hours ago, really…News traveled fast on Coralcola, and surely their arrival wouldn't have gone unnoticed by the islanders or the Argonians. Certainly not Mica. He wanted answers. He wanted to know if Mica had really said everything Amethyst had babbled on about in the morning, if the Princess really felt that way. What hurt him was that Mike had thought he knew her better than anyone else…but if Amethyst had been telling the truth…

Then it doesn't much matter what I feel then, does it?

Quietly, Mike shut his eyes, the sadness and frustration of a day and the past hours at last reaching effect in him.

"I should have known better." He whispered bitterly.

Quiet footsteps began to approach him from behind, just barely audible above the slow roar of the ocean surf. Not like a boy's footprints, or a man's, which were straightforward and unafraid. Which meant it was a girl's, given the hushed volume. And Mike, with a sinking feeling in his chest, wagered he knew who it was.

Mike leaned his head onto his arms, opening his eyes and staring out into the odd mix of glimmering night and the reflective ocean. "Just leave me alone, Amethyst." Mike said quietly. "I heard you well enough this morning."

The footsteps stopped, and for a few moments, Mike believed the girl was thinking of whether or not to say something or just leave.

"If…Amethyst were here, she probably would leave you alone." Said a softer, sadder voice, unmistakably female. But not just any girl's voice…Stunned, Mike turned about, jumping to his feet.

Behind him stood Princess Mica Argos, wearing a set of faded blue jeans and a darker blue blouse. She looked back at him with a single tear running down her cheek, hands pulling at each other. "Welcome back, Mike."

"Mica, I…" Mike began, stumbling to recover from his shock. She raised her hand to quiet him, her long deep red hair waving in a sudden sea breeze.

"What…What Amethyst told you this morning…Those things she said I said…Weren't true. I never said anything like that." Mica stated steadfastly, a sudden tinge of anger rising in her. "Ezilian…he put her up to it."

"Your fiancée?" Mike queried, inwardly wincing at the term and its implications. "But how? Why?"

"It's no secret he doesn't enjoy your presence." Mica replied, blinking. "He sees you as a threat, to our ways and to his own plans. He used Amethyst…made her say those things. He's been wooing her ever since you freed us." She shook her head. "I only found that out today. Ezilian wanted you gone, Mike. Amethyst's conversation with you was his way of trying to make you leave."

"…He succeeded." Mike admitted, his voice a whisper. "Uncle Steve and I were on our way to his ruins when he decided to turn around and come back."

"…And you're not leaving? I heard something about Giskard going…"

"Giskard's taking my place." Mike confirmed. "He can be of more use to my Uncle Steve than I can…And I suppose he needed to get out of here even more than I did."

"…So you're not going then?"

Mike looked at Mica for a long moment, then shook his head back and forth in a motion designed to be noticed. "No."

Mica fought against the blush that his stare invoked, turning sideways. "Well…that's good then. It's all straightened out, and there's no confusion left. So I suppose, I'll see you tomorrow…" Mica turned to begin walking back towards the village, and had just extended her foot…

When a hand grasped onto her own, and kept her from escaping. Mica inhaled sharply, a small drawing of breath that wasn't quite a gasp, but nonetheless could be heard.

"Wait." Mike said quietly. "Just…please, don't go yet."

Mica turned to look at him, an unspoken tension glowing in her eyes from the starlight above.

"There's something I have to tell you…no, a lot of things I have to tell you." Mike corrected himself, shaking his head. "I'm glad you didn't say those things…A part of me didn't want to believe it, and I should have listened to it and stayed." He looked at her. "I'm sorry I did…but I'm not running anymore." He looked at her a moment longer before the two stared down at their hands, and Mica moved to pull her hand away.

Days ago, Mike would have done the same thing. But tonight, he gently held onto her, bringing his other hand up and clasping her other hand, ensnaring her close and forcing her to look at him. "Last night…Last night, when you were crying, and I was holding you, I realized something."

Mica closed her eyes, biting her lip. "Mike, I…"

"Just let me finish." Mike pleaded. "All day, I haven't really thought about anything else but this. Now. Us." He jumped from one word to the next, marveling at their feel. "I was afraid, Mica…afraid of what it meant, afraid of how I'd deal with it…but in the end, there was only one thing about it I was afraid of."

He took a step closer to her, lowering his voice. "And that was how much I'd regret it…if I didn't try to see if it was something you shared too."

Mica broke her hands free and turned around, trying to run off. "I can't stay, I've got to get back…"

"MICA!" Mike called out, as she cleared five paces. "Mica, I love you!!"

Mica could have kept running at anything else Mike could have said. Anything else.

But not that. Instantly, the pain in her chest blossomed outwards into every limb, causing her legs to freeze up and stop running in an instant. In an expression that Mike could no longer see, Mica's eyes tightened up into squints, and her jaw clamped in an attempt to stop the sudden desire to tremble.

"I love you." Mike repeated, walking towards her with exacting slowness. Her ears, long and slender and all too beautiful in the cool night air, seemed to crane backwards as she listened to his approach. "You don't know how long I've been waiting tonight for you to come…just so I could say that. I do, Mica."

Her head drooped against her chest, and the first tears appeared. Run, a voice screamed at her. Run now, while you have the chance! Get away from him before…

But Mica's feet weren't listening to that part of herself for once.

For a change…it was her heart that had taken control.

"It's been happening for a long time…I can see that now." Mike continued. "The way that you look in the morning…how you're as beautiful in the night as you are in the day? Icing on the cake. You care about people, and you always try to bring sunshine into the world around you, even while you don't allow yourself the same tendencies. Whenever I'm around you, all my problems and troubles don't seem as close…when I'm with you, I don't dream of Zoda, I don't think of being trapped on his spaceship or being torn apart or anything else just as horrible. Somehow, you make me feel above all that. The way you smile, the way you laugh, even the way you breathe is a joy and a treasure that I keep with me every time I close my eyes. When I'm with you, Mica, I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of my nightmares."

At last, his footsteps reached a halt, and his warm, comforting hand came to rest on her shoulder, quietly caressing it. "No more secrets…you said that last night again. So I can't keep this one…I don't want to. I love you, God help me for better or worse…Even if you don't love me. But I don't think this is one sided, not by a longshot. And the reason I couldn't leave…the reason I won't, beyond having to tell you the truth about my heart…Is to ask if I'm crazy when I think that you might feel the same way."

Unable to stop herself, Mica let out a sob, trembling at long last. In an instant, Mike was in front of her, holding her by her shoulders and supporting her as she began to cry. His pleading eyes looked into her tearstreaked ones, begging for an answer.

"Oh, Mike…I can't…I just can't…"

Mike's fingers squeezed on her shoulders for a moment, then his hands moved up to gently brush away her tears and cup her face as she tried to compose herself. "Don't tell me that you can't. I don't care about Ezilian, I don't care about your betrothal! And if what you told me just now is any measure, you don't really care for your arranged marriage either! So don't tell me that you can't love me, don't hide behind that excuse. Tell me, Mica, from your heart…Tell me what it's whispering. Tell me that you don't feel for me the same way I feel about you!"

Inside of the Princess, a battle raged. One side of her knew, instinctively, that Mike was honest. That he wasn't lying, that he felt and cared for her as deeply as he said he did. That she always felt safer when he was around, comforted, serene somehow…

And then the other part told her she couldn't. For reasons only she could keep, for reasons that ate her apart and left her filled with fear and anguish, it screamed against everything else inside of her that it couldn't happen, it shouldn't happen…that it would bring nothing but pain.

But the first part was her heart…and the second, her mind.

At long last, Bana's words, repeated, re-emphasized, and boiled long inside the turbulent emotional waters of Mica's spirit hit home. At long last, Mica was willing to listen.

Choking back a sob, Mica mumbled a sentence under her breath, amazed she had even let it out. Mike looked at her, his eyes still asking. "What?"

Mica pulled his hands away from her face and pushed her tears aside, staring at him through eyes adorned with an emotion she thought she would never face.

"I said…I love you, too." She looked at him, biting her lower lip. "Nobody else cared enough to ask, to dig down deep enough and help me get through my problems. Nobody else would have been crazy enough, gallant enough to save us from Zoda. And I do feel safe when you're around…Safer than I've felt in a long time. But…"

"No buts." Mike interrupted her, his own eyes watering up then. "Just tell me again."

Mica looked at him, her heart pounding. "I love you."

Mica didn't know who moved first, Mike or her. But what she did know was that barely three seconds after she'd announced her feelings for the second time, the space between them was gone and they were locked in a kiss that drowned out all thought and left nothing but raw, hungry emotion.

Mica's mental control faded so badly that just as in the night before, she began broadcasting her feelings. But tied to Mike, holding each other tightly as their lips hungrily met, it was focused solely into him. To her surprise, she found that somehow, Mike was also channeling his feelings back into her.

Terror. Fear. Rejection. Euphoria. Exhilaration. Ecstasy.

Comfort. Consolation. Redemption.

Absolution.

In each other, they found all those emotions, but as their kiss continued and deepend, and Mike's hands came up around her face once more, fingers idly stroking her long and sensitive ears, they ended in one that wasn't as much a feeling…As it was a place.

The rest of the world vanished, their tears dried, and Mike and Mica became lost to each other and to a realm that their minds created together as they drifted in and out of the waking world.

In each other's arms, kissing on a long stretch of lonely beach on an island out in the middle of the Pacific, not wanting it to end…

The boy who would be the Starseer, and the Princess of Argonia found heaven.