A/N: So lots of death in this chapter. Also reference to nuclear war


Death is painful-a fact that I am intimately aware of. I have not only experienced it myself as I drowned in my own phlegm and blood, but I have watched it for trillions of years. The deaths of the Eleven of the casualties of the most recent bombing in Pyrana were no exception. Eight of them were near instantaneous, yet with a burst of pain, and the others...well, they had more prolonged suffering.

I glided unnoticed among the carnage from shadow to shadow as paramedics worked to save the other twenty-five victims. The sounds of screams and the smell of fresh blood filled the air. I came across one of the body bags, and heard a whisper from within:

"Mother, is that you?"

"No, no. I am not your mother."

"Who are you?"

"I am like you, but I am not going where you are going. Not yet, at least."

"Where am I going?"

I reached out and cradled the little soul to my shadowy chest, "Somewhere without pain. Now come, and I will show you."

It was times like that when I wondered what it would have been like to be a mother. Perhaps it was for the best that I died too early to know, when my mind was mad. So I escorted the little soul to her next stage of being.


Several hours later

Deputy Inspector Sharon Malone loved her job...most of the time, that is. Knowing that she was preventing criminals from striking again and keeping the public safe was rewarding, especially since she had her daughter five years ago. But then there were the cases that were so horrific that it drained her. The case of the serial bombers of 5007 AHT was one of those cases.

As a 6'1" human with long golden blonde hair tied into a braid, she stood out amongst the Ri also working the case. She wore long black slacks with a black jacket, a yellow blouse, and tall heels that made her more imposing. Her dark blue eyes gave her a piercing stare. She was of Irish-American descent, with her parents having come to Alanaka to escape political purges in New York City. Despite growing up in an alien environment, she followed their legacy and became a cop, clawing her way up the ranks to become a member of one of the most formidable homicide detective teams in Pyrana. She was truly a force to be reckoned with.

She turned back to confer with her boss, Inspector Alonius Jong, about the initial findings when she noticed Daniel talking to him. She narrowed her eyes. This could only mean one thing: that private "detective" O'Sullivan was on her way.

It was at this moment that Marjorie and Naomi arrived on the scene. The Detective-Inspector Alonius Jong was an older man of about 55 years. His dark hair and mustache were going gray and he stood on the shorter side. Next to him was a woman neither Marjorie nor Sharon had never seen before. Aside from a white blouse, she was dressed in mostly black: black skirt, black heels, black stockings, black blazer, and black sunglasses. Her dark brown hair was drawn up in a bun. It was as if she was trying to seem as average and discrete as possible. The only thing that distinguished her was her silver Phoenician Bureau of Investigation badge with the red and black Phoenix sitting on her belt.

"Special Agent Kesuku, this is Consulting Detective Marjorie O'Sullivan. Marjorie, this is Special Agent Kesuku with the PBI."

"Pleased to meet you," the Agent extended her hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you as well," Marjorie said. As she shook her hand she noticed the agent's side arm: a 454 R-series laser pistol. But that wasn't the most unusual thing about the agent: Marjorie couldn't get a read on her.

"Agent Kesuku has been assigned to work with us on this case as a liaison from the Union government. She has dealt with similar cases in the past on Aruk and Corba." He then shifted his attention to both Marjorie and Daniel. "On a separate note, I appreciate that the two of you found time to come out this morning on such short notice," Inspector Jong said.

"Actually you called at the perfect time, just as I was finishing breakfast with my sister."

"That would be me," Naomi answered.

"Oh. Well it's nice to meet you, uh—"

"Naomi, Naomi O'Sullivan," she shook his hand.

"Well, you're certainly welcome to assist your sister here."

"Thank you," Naomi said and turned to Daniel. "And you must be Daniel I Lee."

"Yeah, that's me," he said. He never knew Marjorie had a sister.

Sharon stood in cold silence the entire time. The only thing worse than having Marjorie and her sister involved was to have the feds involved.

"Right," Marjorie said. She could not believe that this was happening either. "Well I suppose we should get down to business. What are the facts so far?"

The inspector nodded to Sharon, who threw a holo projector to the ground. It projected a miniature map of the scene. She said, "At 11:32am a bomb exploded underneath a car parked on Thrina Avenue, next to the Southern Peninsula boardwalk. The explosion killed 11 people immediately. 20 more are injured, 5 critically."

"Have you salvaged the bomb? Do you know what type it was?"

"Most of the bomb appears to have been destroyed in the explosion. We think we found a timer, but other than that nothing."

"Do you have any footage of the bomb being planted?"

"So far we haven't found anything suspicious footage-wise. No package or suspicious object was left there. It doesn't appear to have been in the car. We're trying to reconstruct the plate and find the owner."

"Ok. Daniel and I will go see the bombsite now. Alone." Once they were out of earshot, Marjorie whispered to Daniel, "Did you notice it?"

"The gun? Yeah. Only military carries lasers. PBI generally uses glock bullet pistols. Either she's not PBI, or she's been specially issued a laser. Question is, is she government at all?"

"She is government. The badge was official and uniform standard. But whether she is PBI or from another agency is questionable. Especially considering the other unusual detail."

"Which is?"

"She's trained to block psychic readings'"

"You're kidding."

"Nope,"

"That's odd. So you have a sister?" he changed the subject.

"Yeah. She broke into my apartment this morning."

"What? Why?"

"Because she's a control freak. Even from over 100 light years away she still has people watching me. The fact that she knew who you were when I never told her about you confirms it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she ran a background check on you." She then softened. "At least she is a caring control freak though."

"Are you happy to see her?"

"In a way, yes. It's been too long. But enough about me, you seem on edge today." She stopped waling for a moment. "Why?"

"I'm having an off day. I didn't sleep well last night and I fell off my couch this morning."

"Dreams again?"

"Yeah." He kicked a rock to the side.

"Which ones?"

"I don't remember. I think it was one of the ones where I'm looking for something but can't find it. It wasn't anything terribly disturbing though."

"Well that's good."

"Yeah. But something just feels off. I don't know what though." They continued on their way.

They stopped walking when they finally reached the edge of the blast zone. A ring of black soot surrounded the site at about 50 ft. from the center, with the remains of burnt out cars and shredded metal surrounding it. The café nearest to the blast zone had its windows blown out. The brick was caked with soot. A crater of about 15 feet in diameter and 3 feet in depth stood at the center.

The two PIs jumped down walked to the center. Marjorie crouched and picked up a handful of pulverized concrete, sprinkling it out into the wind. What looked like broken shards of pottery were strewn across the crater, and the surrounding pavement.

Daniel performed a quick scan with his sonic. "Interesting. Relatively high levels of star crystal are in this. Purple star crystal at that, the least stable kind, unlike the green and red starcrystal used in starships. A small quantity could've reacted with oxygen in the air and easily produced this explosion."

"Sounds like an accurate deduction." She began to knock on the ground, further and further away from the crater in circles. More pottery like shards were strewn around it. She took a magnifying glass out of her purse and looked at one closely. "Interesting. Sonic one of those shards."

Daniel took out the silver and red tool with a single gold band towards to bottom. "Clay," he said. "It looks like one side's been melted, but the other left solid. There's a greater signature of purple starcrystal on the melted side."

"Then my theory is correct," she said. "The bomb was made of pottery."

"Pottery?"

"Yes pottery."

They went back to talk to Inspector Jong and made their initial report. "We think that the bomb had purple starcrystal in it, probably two or more separate 'cores,' in addition to a timing device and a clay exterior. If you test the previous bombs it is quite likely that you will find purple starcrystal residue there as well," Daniel said.

"So you're suggesting that a crude bomb made of pottery caused all this destruction?" Sharon asked.

"Crude isn't a good choice of words. Intricate would be better. Or creative. Whoever made this wouldn't have gone through the trouble to do so unless there was a reason. There are much simpler ways to make bombs that are just as deadly," Marjorie said.

"So why would they go through the trouble?" Inspector Jong asked.

"I was hoping that Agent Kesuku could answer that. Did you find any similar bombings offworld? If so, what were their motives?"

"There was a similar rash of bombings on Saraba about 15 years ago, if I remember correctly. There were very few bomb parts found and no one took responsibility for it, just like this one."

"Do you think that we're dealing with an individual or a group?"

"That's hard to say. But there was an uptick in Pangaean nationalist activity at the time. It was right before Gaios started."

"Worth noting. That could very well be a contributing factor. However, almost all bombings are ultimately a message. If this were meant to disseminate a large message to multiple people, someone would've claimed it by now. But they haven't which is an indicator that the message is meant for a small group of people who know exactly who the bomber is."

"And who might that be?"

"I don't know for sure."

"Will you help us find out what is going on?" Inspector Jong asked.

"We cannot help you in this way."

"I'm sure I can convince the mayor, or even the president, to pay you both really well."

"It's not about the money," Marjorie said. We just simply cannot help you in this way. Besides, I'm sure that the PBI would be a better resource in this case. Now we are done here." And with that they walked away from the crime scene.

Daniel asked Naomi, "Can you give us a moment?"

"Yeah, sure," she said and darted into a cafe. She wasn't happy either.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "What the hell Marjorie?"

"I already know what you're gonna say. I'm not in the mood to be lectured Daniel."

"I don't care," he said. "You know I really thought you had a change of heart and that we were gonna investigate this case. But no, you just wanted to get away from your sister, who you never mentioned before."

"I don't want to talk about this Daniel."

"Fine, neither do I."

Naomi came out and the three of them stood in tense silence. Our two detectives and Naomi had decided that it was best to take a flying robocab as opposed to metro. It would be crowded with people rushing home given recent events.

Daniel turned on the radio to concentrate on something other than Marjorie. The news anchor said, "Coverage of the most recent bombing will continue throughout the day. The police have yet to release a statement as to whether or not this is the work of the so-called Silent Bomber. In other news, the Phoenician Space Fleet is moving the firestar Salazar, along with 20 million soldiers, from the border worlds to the Torr system. The Torr planetary government cited concerns over a small yet vocal nationalist minority in its initial request for increased protection. There is a fear of terrorist activity in the region. Rumors are spreading that the military is going to start drafting again, although a spokeswoman said they were unfounded. On a lighter note, the Face of Boe is going to visit Osai City on Rakana as a token of goodwill and friendship to the Phoenician people and the Ri spec-,"

Daniel turned off the radio. Everything seemed to be falling apart. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

"We need to get the rest of the boxes out of the storage unit," Marjorie said. "But we'll need to drop off Naomi first."

"Just go where you're headed and I'll just take the metro back to the hotel," Naomi said, annoyed that her sister was pushing her away yet again. The rest of the car ride was uneventful and painfully silent.

When they arrived at the Middle Salmucha Station, Marjorie and Naomi got out while Daniel waited in the car.

"You're annoyed," Marjorie said.

"You think? Of course I'm annoyed. The first time I get to see you in years and you push me away. "

"Yes, I'm the one who did the pushing, when it was you who kidnapped me in the middle of the night and threw me into a spaceship without any warning or knowledge of where I was going!"

"You know that I did what I had to do to protect you. Forgive me for thinking that Pyrana was better than prison!" The train pulled up to the station and levitated above the magnetic rail. The doors hissed open and passengers began to stream out. "You would have been made a scapegoat. People were out for blood!" She the leaned in and whispered softly, "And if they found out what you are, experimented on."

"And yet none of this was my choice. You didn't ask me if I wanted to leave everything behind. Now the train is about to leave. Goodbye Naomi."

"So that's how it's gonna be. I will be here for a few more weeks. If you would like to talk, let me know. Goodbye." And with that, off she went. When Marjorie came back to the car, she was surprised to find that Daniel was not in the car.

While they were off saying terse goodbyes, the strange blue box began to ring like a telephone. Without even thinking he opened the door, instructed the car to stay, and walked across the concrete to the corner where it stood. Something about it felt very unusual and unnerving to him.

"DON'T! Don't touch it!" an older woman shouted. All but a strand of her gray hair was pulled back. A yellow apron with "The Corner Café" printed on it overlay her pink blouse and blue jean shorts. The strand of gray hair that was not pulled back seemed to quiver.

"The phone was ringing," Daniel said, confused.

"Yes, it was. All the more reason to stop you."

"Why? It's just a phone booth."

"Oh no it's not JUST a phone booth. It's cursed!"

"What do you mean?"

"Strange things have happened to people who mess with it. People have claimed to talk to their long dead great grandparents, or their future grandchildren. Some have entered it, only to tumble out months or years later as a blithering mess, driven mad from what they have seen or heard."

"So what's causing it?"

"Who in the galaxy knows? Maybe it's a multidimensional alien playing a practical joke, maybe it's one of the Ethereal spirits of old that stayed behind, still furious with the transgressions of Rikind against nature. Either way, stay away from it!"

"It's old," They turned to face Marjorie, who placed a hand on the blue-green mildew-covered wood. "And lonely. And it's slowly dying, like everything else in this universe. It's just sitting around, waiting for entropy. Nothing to be afraid of."

"And who might you be?" the woman asked pointedly.

"Marjorie O'Sullivan, consulting detective. And this is my associate, Daniel I. Lee."

"And how would you know about this, this box?"

"Because we specialize in hunting monsters. And that is no monster. The real monsters are the ones that walk the streets every day without eliciting a single head turn. The real monsters are the people that have done evil and lie to protect themselves."

As they walked away from the conversation to the storage unit, Daniel asked, "Do you remember what you said to me when we decided to work together?"

"It takes a monster to hunt a monster."

"That, but also you told me that we need to trust each other. That goes both ways Marjorie. I trust you. Now do you trust me?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Sometimes it is hard to tell."

They made it back to the storage center with a hovercart.

Daniel was the one to break the terse silence, "You know, your sister really does care. She wouldn't be here if she didn't," he said as he loaded yet another box into the hovercart. This was not how he imagined his weekend to go.

"Daniel, I don't want to talk about this."

"Having living family, or even family you can remember is a gift."

"You've said you were happy you couldn't remember your family before."

"I think it might be a good thing I don't have to deal with the pain from having those memories of them before the train accident. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a memory or two of them I could cherish. Either way, I'm not happy about it."

"To forget or to regret? That is the question."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said.

"I think we've had enough for the day," she said. "Tell you what, let's bring these back and then pick up tomorrow. I want to have a look at his death site in the morning. Sounds good?"

"Yeah."

And with that they left.


"Hanto is dead sir."

"Excellent. Did you find sandfish?"

"Unfortunately no sir."

"Did you think to ask him before you shot him?"

"No sir. We searched the apartment afterwards. No one knows he's gone yet."

"They'll know shortly when they identify his body in the trunk of his car from the explosion."

He smiled at the man coldly and asked, "Please, pass me your gun." The subordinate held out the gun, his hands visibly shaking and his eyes widened in fear. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

The green-eyed man took the pistol, and turned it over in his hands, observing every detail of it. He said, "Guns are incredibly efficient and easy to handle. Any yahoo off the street can be trained to kill with one. Yet they are crude and barbaric tools, invented and used by our crude and barbaric enemy. It is through necessity that we must resort to them in our struggle for our kingdom. It is a cruel irony that we must sully our hands in pursuit of such a noble cause. Yet the nobility of our cause will cleanse us upon the completion of our task. But for now I'm afraid that we will have to resort to unsavory means for the greater good." The man with the green eyes pointed it at the man and fired. The minion fell to the floor clutching the area above his left heart in a vain attempt to keep from bleeding out as he gasped for air. Within a matter of seconds he was dead.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," the man with the icy eyes said, "that failure cannot and will not be tolerated! We are running on a deadline. We need to find sandfish and the key as soon as possible. We only have one opportunity to get this right. If we fail, we may never have another chance to restore our home. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!" a chorus of voices answered him.

"Good. The benefactors will be pleased to hear that we are back on schedule."


If you were to sit and watch the many parks of Pyrana, you would notice that it was very common for pairs of people to meet and discuss everything from fishing and weather to illegal arms deals and shady business transactions. Today, a woman sat beneath the palm trees and genetically engineered vines of the Tyre Canal Park near the northern-central part of the city. It was one of the smaller, less popular parks so there was less worry of surveillance by the Phoenician authorities.

She was tall, with long black braided hair and green eyes covered by her large and stylish sunglasses. Today she wore a black skirt and a green blouse with short-sleeves in order to appear like a normal working citizen. She adjusted a turquoise-blue scarf to cover the slight shock of pink that edged from underneath the left side of her collar.

Failure to hide the old burn scar, unusual in an age where medical science and biotechnology can erase all, could prove fatal. The light pink cracked leather bag next to her appeared to be a simple fashion statement, but actually carried two curved, brass-colored knives that have tasted the flesh of many enemies.

A man in a dark coat, his face obscured by a scarf and small, round sunglasses approached and sat next to her. For all intents and purposes, it looked like your ordinary corrupt business deal.

"The boss would like to commend you for your work this morning." he said.

"He knows that I am efficient. I always get the job done and leave little trace. They don't even know about the dead programmer yet."

"It's frustrating the feds," he said, his smile obscured.

"As intended. So what is the purpose of this meeting?" she said tersely.

The man handed her a microchip. "Scan it. Now"

She brought it up to her phone and flipped through the files. Almost everything there was to know about Marjorie O'Sullivan and Daniel I. Lee was at her fingertips. "Is he serious? Are these two actually working together?"

"As unlikely as it seems, yes."

"How did this happen?"

"They got on the same elevator a year and a half ago, supposedly by accident."

"I don't buy it. Coincidences don't happen. Not with these two anyways. Are we to kill them?"

"No, not yet. The entire plan hinges on them being alive long enough to find the key. Then, and only then, can we bring them to justice for their crimes."

"Tell the Colonel he's gone out of his mind."

"I will let the General know you think that."

"I don't care what his title is now, I'm being serious. We're dealing with a skilled telepath and an enemy combatant that could recognize us from Gaios. If either of them catches wind of this, we're done. If we dispatch them Jong's detectives and Sector 6 will have no choice but to investigate and lead us to the key. We do not need to risk this operation on two loose cannons."

"Jong's people aren't skilled enough to find it and Sector 6 would immediately destroy it if they find it. Then they would hunt us down like dogs."

"But if the telepath and the soldier find out we're using them, all is lost."

"Then make sure that doesn't happen, Colonel."

She stood up and straightened. "Very well. But tell him this is a foolish mistake."


The dwarf star Sula cast its orange light upon the silver oceans of grass that covered the surface of Torr near its five isolated seas. The rest of the planet was desert, with a few scant urban areas. In a remote corner of one of the grass seas, one figure was meditating underneath an olive tree, with another stood guard.

"Tell me, what is your name?" The man with the iridescent eyes, currently a pale green, asked the guard assigned to look after him. The boy couldn't have been older than 19.

"Cain, sir."

"Sir, I get so tired of people calling me sir. Sometimes I miss being able to life like a normal Ri, like I did on Saraba, Gaios, and back home. To be able to go about my business without people looking up to me. To be able to be alone by myself without a guard hanging over me the entire time. Alas, destiny had more important business for me. But I would very much prefer being called by name and not by 'sir.'"

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"

"Arzan. My name is Arzan. Some call me the Avenger, but Arzan is just fine. Now Cain, do you remember the first time you saw an alien sky?"

"It was when my family and I moved to Gaios, si—I mean, Arzan."

"And where was home before then?"

"Corba,"

"Under the yellow sky and the red sun Cykos and yellow sun Makas?"

"Yes."

"It's a surreal experience, isn't it? To see the sky in a way that it shouldn't be. Tell me, were your there the day our enemy dropped the atom bombs on Gaios? Did you see the sky turn red as the planet was turned into a radioactive wasteland?"

"Yeah," Cain looked down, staring into the sea of long grass surrounding them. "I escaped on a ship. But I lost my sister to the explosions."

Arzan the Avenger stood up and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Well that's something that we both have in common."

"You lost your sister to the nukes?"

"No." He removed his hand. "A different weapon was used then, one that cannot be used today, either by our enemy or by us. The rules that govern our world have changed too much. And the death toll was much larger on that day of the crimson sky all those years ago. She was all I had left. I lost everything, but the forces that govern the universe let me keep my life so that I might fulfill my purpose. I have to avenge the many dead and return our people to our former kingdom. And then we shall restore the broken circle."