"Filthy conchie!"

Rumplestiltskin hunched even further into himself, trying to edge past the trio of soldiers while balancing a lunch tray. He knew what they thought of him, which was why he avoided eating in the canteen. A futile evasion — suddenly the corridor was too narrow to hold them all, and one of the soldiers shoved him into the wall. He caught himself with a hand, hurrying to get out of the way, but a foot hooked around his ankle and sent him crashing to the floor. The tray spun free, the plate overturned, leaving his burger and fries scattered about.

"What are you looking at, coward?" The soldiers jeered at him, making as if to kick him and laughing when he flinched. "That's right, lick it off the floor, you useless little shit."

To his shame, he scooped up everything he could salvage before it got trampled. He couldn't afford to do otherwise. He had to count it a good day when they didn't simply steal his rations for themselves.

The memory broke up into blotches of static. Error recovery codes scrolled by, replacing the images she had been watching. Belle rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to reorient herself. It hadn't been what she expected to see. She tried accessing another memory.

"Bad day?" The man's face was vaguely sympathetic, tagged in the memories as Doctor Z. A scientist. The surroundings were hazy, just enough to suggest some kind of laboratory.

"The usual." Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "I ran away from the war they fought and lost, so they don't think I deserve a slot on this ship." Privately, he agreed, but for his son's sake, he had no shame. Thankfully, Baelfire would sleep through the passage safe in a stasis chamber.

"Conscientious objector isn't the same as a coward," the other noted.

"I'm still running away, aren't I?"

The other chuckled. "Understandably. Not much use for an Atavist in the tin can archipelago. A planet, now, that's someplace where you can scratch the dirt like God intended." His tone was half-mocking, half-admiring. "That's some real commitment to the cause, even if you aren't the type to pick up a sword."

"Mm." Rumplestiltskin knew the scientist had a hobby of fantasy gaming and pseudo-medieval re-enactment, but that sliver of commonality only made the other feel superior to the poor uneducated fool who took it too seriously.

"Though sometimes I think it's a bit of a waste. You could have been more than a glorified janitor."

"It's enough that it bought my passage." Rumplestiltskin had been lucky enough to score over 8 on the Hu-Sharma psionic resistance scale, which in theory enabled him to endure an extended trip through nullspace without his brains oozing out his ears. The talent was in short supply, which was why Dr. Z was the only scientist in his research team who was awake to run their experiments. Everyone else on the ship besides the crew and Captain Hordor's company of psionically trained soldiers was kept in a stasis bubble filled with psi-dampening gel.

These must be memories of the original colony ship! Belle woke up with a start. But experiments? She had never heard of any experiments run on that voyage. She dipped into another memory, hoping for more information, but found only other jumbled, blurred wisps of conversations and images.

Every block was allotted its local park, including a garden that was only a poor facsimile of nature, but to a small child who had never set foot on a planet, it passed for wilderness. Rumplestiltskin took his son here when he had the chance. Today his wife had deigned to accompany them.

"Look how happy he is. There's nothing wrong with living closer to nature or in keeping ancient traditions alive." It was an old argument, and by now he said the words by rote, because he was too tired to believe anything could change. Certainly not her mind.

"You're turning him into a little savage." She scowled in irritation. "When are you going to get a real job?"

"Milah..."

She hissed in disgust and turned away with a dismissive wave. "Just go play with the boy. That's one thing you can do, at least."

The boy in question ran ahead of them, crouching down to poke at a fallen branch.

He had never mentioned his family before. Belle could guess why. But she found herself almost hypnotized by the pain that bled through the fragmented memories, and she couldn't stop herself from delving once more into his past. She rationalized the intrusion to herself with feeble excuses.

He came home to find his son alone in their apartment. "Bae, where's Mum?"

Gone. Rumplestiltskin stared at the message in shock. Gone to enlist in the Sol-Gov Defense Force.

The war was heating up again. Another push to take Earth back from the Pacified. It was futile. Everyone knew that, and yet they had to try. Part of him felt guilty. He looked at his son, who deserved better than a coward for a father, yet wasn't that better than leaving Bae an orphan?

There was no future for them in Sol System. There was talk of extra-solar colonization. Vast ships were built, running on the new star drives. For the next few years, Rumplestiltskin concentrated all his efforts on obtaining spaces on a colony ship for himself and his son.

"What happened to your son?" Belle whispered to herself. Had he been killed before he ever reached Sumaya? "I'm so sorry, Rumple..."

According to the Orthodox Model, nullspace was an emptiness that defied human intuition, holding neither space nor time, yet omnipresent and infinite. The ship was a bubble of reality forced through an artificially generated fissure into that void, traveling in its own current of time along a calculated trajectory until it emerged at its destination elsewhere. There was, by definition, nothing in nullspace.

Therefore the voices didn't exist except in his imagination. The natural human psionic sensitivity that had evolved in a world full of life and existence reacted badly to the nothing of nullspace. That was all.

"It's getting worse." Rumplestiltskin's feeling was confirmed by the readings of Dr. Z's machine.

"As predicted by the model." Zoso meant the Tenebrasapience Model he and his colleagues had developed out of what they considered the fatal flaws of the standard theories. He should have been triumphant to be proven right, but Rumplestiltskin saw a deep unease in the scientist's eyes. "This many souls packed so densely over such a distance. It's never been tried before. What if we've done the equivalent of throwing chum into the ocean?"

"You think it's real. What we hear."

"I fear we've attracted the attention of something dangerous."

The memory dissolved into a fog of anxiety.

"'Something dangerous'," Belle repeated to herself. But it had been no more than a hunch, back then. She scanned the stolen memories for the moment when that had changed...

He ran down the corridor, the shriek of alarms drowned out by the cacophony inside his head. The voices had grown from indistinct murmurs into presences demanding his submission. They promised power, pleasure, pain, and more. Their bloodlust and hunger became his own. He refused to listen — he had one goal, one name he dared not lose sight of: Baelfire!

Because others heard the same voices. Others opened doors to the Dark and fed the ones who hungered. He had seen too much already: sleepers awakened into a nightmare of slaughter as the ones from the void poured in.

He prayed he was not too late. By chance or the favor of an unknown god, he found his son. "Bae!"

"Papa?" The boy collapsed in his father's arms, his voice a wet gurgle as an iridescent, oily froth seeped out of his mouth.

"No..." Rumplestiltskin cradled his son, grown too tall to be easily carried, as best he could. "Hold on, son. Just hold on..." He turned and fled the scene, stealing this one at least from the ravening Dark. Baelfire could still be saved. He refused to believe otherwise.

The memory stuttered and skipped. Running through darkened corridors. Emergency power, came the thought. An imagined lightness in the body he held, in the fall of his footsteps, though it was too soon to feel it — the inevitable slowing of the great wheel whose rotation gave them weight.

Another gap. Then—

A boy lay on the gleaming metal table, blind with webs of purple tendrils encrusting his eyes, gasping for breath.

"He's too far gone. It's eating him up from the inside." Dr. Z's assessment was far too calm, his gaze too knowing.

"Save him! All your accursed research, all your damned theories... what was it for if not to save an innocent child?" He had little hope for himself, but for his son's sake, he fought to penetrate whatever artificial tranquility the scientist had swallowed before Rumplestiltskin had forced his way into the barricaded lab. He only had to hold on long enough to save Baelfire and protect him until the rescue mission arrived. "Tell me!"

"Well. There is this." Zoso reached into a drawer. Tossed a serpentine dagger onto the counter. Rumplestiltskin recognized it as one of Dr. Z's fantasy roleplaying props, but it was real enough to—

He recoiled in horror. "You're not suggesting that I..." He cut himself off, even as part of him chortled in glee at the prospect. Put the boy out of his misery. Better you than some stranger. You've wasted enough energy on the little parasite. All he's ever done is take food out of your own mouth. Time for him to pay you back. The voices whispered of strength, of the power to be drawn from a life. He shook his head in violent denial. "No! Never!"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Zoso grimaced. "It was a side project, something I thought would be neat. We had an idea that we could harness some of the stranger properties of nullspace through objects with a strong psi imprint. This dagger was a key component of a character I... Well, if it had worked, I could use it to repel all this..." He waved his hands glumly.

"But it didn't work."

"No." Zoso spoke with the hollowness of someone waiting for death. "But maybe if you try? Given your base psi ratings, you could have a chance..."

Another gap in the memories. Then—

Zoso on the floor. Rumplestiltskin kneeling on top of him, pulling the dagger from the scientist's chest. A sacrifice to bind the void. He felt the inrush of power channeled through blood and metal — marking the blade with his name and his soul with darkness. Darkness was his to command.

The memory faded into another.

His son would live.

Others would not.

"Papa, no!"

They wanted the same thing he did: access to the last working survival pod on this level. Every one he killed made the next one easier to kill, until he and his son stood alone in the emergency bay.

"You're safe, Bae." Rumplestiltskin sealed the horror-stunned boy into the stasis capsule. He let the voices guide him as he drew his dagger in a complex pattern over the door — spells for protection and concealment from the Dark. Ship's systems took over after that, ejecting the pod into the void. "I won't let the monsters get you."

The memories collapsed into a dizzying collage of motion, noise, and violence. Weapons rated for shipboard use did little damage to any of the monsters. Losing himself in the darkness, Rumplestiltskin felt unstoppable.

Until the third, previously concealed, faction imposed its own order on the ship.

Now was not the time to ask how the Pacified had infiltrated the ship. The enemy had followed them from Earth. They had hidden themselves from human eyes and genetic scans, but with his altered vision, Rumplestiltskin could see them clearly. Their souls had a smooth, liquid quality that made them slippery and hard to grasp.

They had taken control. They were protecting the humans. A truce in extremis against an existential threat.

The ship, never designed to even enter the atmosphere, broke free of nullspace to crash into the planet, the breach sealed behind them at the cost of a hundred lives. The door was closed, the maps burned. The survivors built their walls to keep the monsters out. The Pacified retreated into their own hives.

But Baelfire had been left behind in the void. No rescue mission was coming, not from Sol System, not from the colony, which had turned its back on any kind of travel beyond its own sun. There was only Rumplestiltskin.

His son was waiting for him.


His son. All this time, he had been searching for his son. The revelation left her breathless. Belle opened her eyes, her cheeks wet with stolen tears, her vision still full of Rumplestiltskin's memories.

As she slowly came back to herself, the sense of guilt returned as well, but she was also glad that she had found out the truth. She had to get back to him. Apologize. Explain. And show him that she meant it when she said she wanted to help him.

The first order of business was to figure out where she was. Now that her head felt clearer, things didn't seem as hopeless as before. True, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. True, she was outside the protection of the settlements or the Dark One. But she refused to give up that easily. Once it was light enough, she would seek out higher ground and get her bearings. She peered up at the sky. Not too much longer, she hoped.

It was too much to hope for. The darkness had barely begun to hint at lightening when she heard the rustling of dry leaves, footsteps and soft voices. Belle froze, pressing herself against the sheltering rock, trying not to think too loudly. Please, don't notice me, pass me by... Because who else would be outside in the night except the monsters? But it wasn't her thoughts that betrayed her but rather her scent.

They surrounded her, a ring of looming shadows. Then a beam of light in her face, blinding her. She cowered instinctively, raising a hand to shield her eyes. She blinked past the brightness to see the grinning eyes and gaping jaws of wolves.

"Runaway, hmm?" One of them grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to her feet. "Let's see how fast you can run..."

"Demon bait," they called her.

They were outsiders, outlaws, exiles. Belle had heard the rumors, but never believed them. How long could anyone survive outside the walls, vulnerable to the Dark?

Longer, with the sharpened senses of a lupine parahuman.

Longer, when they fed the slowest to the demons, like a lizard shedding a tail. Devil take the hindmost.

How fast could she run?

She never had to find out. Even as the sun rose above the horizon, the roar of engines drowned out every other threat, because however fast her captors could run, flesh and blood were no match for the all-terrain four-wheelers that overtook them, nor for the black-armored riders with their weapons aimed in wordless threat.

Cyborgs, thought Belle, until their leader removed her helmet and looked straight at Belle.

"It seems we arrived just in time." The woman nodded at the rider to her right. "You can ride double with him. Hop on, my dear, unless you really do have a deathwish."

Belle closed her gaping jaw, looking from one group to the other, and not liking her chances of outrunning or outfighting either. Then some silent decision made, her original captors melted away into the forest, gone in the blink of an eye. Belle didn't move. She said as steadily as she could, "I suppose I should thank you..." She gave the woman a questioning look.

"You can call me Regina."

"Belle." Better go along with them for now, she decided, making no resistance when the cyborg lifted her onto the quad behind him. The vehicles weren't really designed for extra passengers, but this one at least had been fitted with grip bars in the back. "Where are you taking me?"

"Why, Misthaven, of course."

Belle bit back her shock. Misthaven! As it turned out, Rumplestiltskin had dropped her not far outside the walls of the Evil Queen's settlement. A short trip, but enough for Belle to notice the eerie silence and perfect coordination of the black-armored riders.

"Black knights," Regina informed her when asked. Cyborgs, as Belle had initially guessed, and fitted with internal comlinks. "And I am their queen."

"The Evil Queen," muttered Belle.

Regina chuckled. "Don't be taken in by Earthgov propaganda." Whatever dark corruption she held inside her soul, it didn't show on her face, which appeared purely human, in contrast to the Dark One. Her smile was welcoming when she invited Belle into her house and served her tea.

Tea with the queen! Belle bit back a hysterical laugh, but accepted the tea.

Regina leaned forward to pat her hand. "Don't worry, you're safe now."

Belle stared down at the cup. What if the tea was drugged?

"That dreadful little imp can't reach you here..."

Belle's eyes jerked up to stare at Regina. "What? How did you know..."

"About you? I happened to be passing through Avonlea and heard the most distressing rumors." Regina shook her head in a show of dismay. "The governor's daughter, kidnapped by a monster."

"It's not like that! I agreed to go with him. And he's not a monster."

Regina's teeth gleamed in a patronizing smile. "My dear girl, he really has done a number on your head. But that's dark psions for you — as far as that goes, Rumplestiltskin is one of the best, that much I'll give him."

Belle gritted her teeth and reached for a biscuit from the tray.

"How long did he have you?" Regina continued remorselessly. "A year? Plenty of time, and the isolation would have made it easier for him."

Belle dropped the biscuit. She glared at Regina. "He didn't do anything like that. He wouldn't."

"Oh? He did cast you out rather brutally on the flimsiest of pretexts." Regina slid a hand mirror onto the table between them.

Belle gasped. It was the same one! Repaired? Or a copy? So it really was the Evil Queen's mirror. There must have been a tracking device on it, or how else had they found her so quickly? And likely more than that... Rumplestiltskin's wild ranting suddenly made sense. "You were spying on us!"

"It was for your own good, child." Regina gave her a pitying look. "Well, I'll see about matching you with a good therapist. We may not be under Earthgov, but we're not barbarians. Now, dear, you need to rest. Take some time to think, now that you're free."

Free! As if Belle wasn't taken to a room with no windows and a guarded door. For your own protection, claimed Regina. In case you've been implanted with any unfortunate programs by the Dark One.

That was her pretext for the 'therapy' sessions as well. But whether she called it therapy or interrogation, Belle couldn't avoid it, nor the drugs they administered to loosen her tongue. If she refused food, they would force her. One way or another, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from answering. Worst of all, she realized she did know too much. She had erased the memories she had downloaded, but she couldn't erase her own memories of what she had seen.

All she had left were lies. She poured out contradictory confessions drawn out of everything she had ever read or imagined, hoping to lose anything important in a sea of nonsense. I won't betray him, she vowed to herself, sickened by the thought that she already had. But when the interrogations finally dwindled to a perfunctory session each day, a glimmer of hope returned.

I hope I bored them out of their minds.

Never mind that her own grasp on reality had slipped a few degrees.

"Rumplestiltskin." She murmured the name to herself when she was alone again. She couldn't remember what it meant. A voice in her memory. A touch, a smile. She had to hold on. She had to find him. Whoever he was.

Escape remained more elusive. Belle tried to engage with her guards, whether to soften their hearts or to glean information, but it was useless. She discovered early on that the black knights were all fitted with obedience chips which made it impossible for them to even think about defying the Evil Queen.

She had a little more luck with the servant girl who brought her food and cleaned her cell, but not much.

"You should count yourself lucky," spat the girl. "Mad or not, you'll never end up on her majesty's menu, not like the rest of us." Her brother, it turned out, had been killed by the queen a month before Belle's capture.

"No," was Belle's quiet reply. Killed and eaten. The thought came in a sudden moment of clarity. In her mind's eye, she saw a dagger dripping with blood. Heard the crack of a mug hitting the floor.

The Dark One. Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One. A demon.

And Belle was only a pawn in whatever vicious game the Evil Queen was playing against the Dark One. But if it was a game he wasn't interested in (and why would he be, when his focus was never on this planet at all?), what use were the pawns? "No, I wouldn't say never."

But as long as she still lived...

Rumplestiltskin. It was the name of a demon, but it stirred longing rather than fear in Belle. I will never forget. Never stop fighting for him...