The same bartender who served them drinks the night before brought bowls over. Aeryn thanks her quietly and pays. Bialar sees the several looks the girl throws him and fights the temptation to frighten her off. He watches her skitter away and shakes his head.

"Did she think it'd disappear overnight?" he asks sourly.

"Perhaps she hasn't adjusted," Aeryn returns evenly.

Bialar harrumphs but eats his breakfast. Halfway through he sees two men enter and the bartender whispering to them.

"Aeryn," he says softly. "I think we have trouble."

Her glance towards the bar is the epitome of casualness. "Hm, possibly."

"More than a question of maladjustment, I think."

"Finish your food," Aeryn tells him. "After all, I did pay for it."

He glances at her. She seems to be ignoring the trouble brewing across the room as unimportant. He eats the rest of his breakfast but does not really taste it. Unlike Aeryn, he cannot turn off so easily and finds himself becoming tense. So he stretches out and he can hear them talking, hears what they are planning, and pushes his bowl away.

"We need to go now," he tells Aeryn.

She glances at him, ready to retort, but then her eyes go wide and she nods. "There's a back door," she says and unclips the retainer on her holster. "Go. I have you covered."

Bialar shakes his head. "We go together." He stands, noting how the two men go for their pistols. "Aeryn!"

She pulls hers out as she gets up, the motion a blur even to his heightened sight. It seems the men want them alive for some reason, because they hold their fire. Bialar has one arm around Aeryn's waist as he backs them towards the door.

One of the men steps forward. "We don't want any trouble!"

"That's strange," Bialar retorts. "Neither did we. We've paid up. Let us go."

"We only want you, freak. Not bothered about your girlfriend. So if you come here, she can go."

"Don't you even think about it," Aeryn mutters.

"I really wasn't," he murmurs in reply. "Bottle on the bar, Aeryn. We need a distraction."

"I'd never have thought of that," she remarks in a sarcastic tone, but her aim shifts and the bottle explodes in a shower of glass.

There is a high-pitched scream from the bartender and a yell from the man that was stood by the bar as Bialar shoves Aeryn towards the door. The other man fires, but he was either making a warning shot or else can't aim, because it pings harmless off the wall.

Bialar stumbles slightly and the man aims at Aeryn. Bad shot or not, he is not willing to take the risk and dives forward. Staggers as something hits him on the back, just beneath his right shoulder as he blocks Aeryn. Hears her gasp and feels her grab his arm. Sees her pale, horrified face. Smells the scorched silk. But there is no pain, no loss of movement. He spins on his heel.

The man takes a step back, eyes wild. The bartender screams again.

Fury is a white light that bubbles up from deep with Bialar, floods his vision. He holds up a staying hand and it rips out from the palm, slams into the man and sends him flying.

He is dead before he hits the ground.

Bialar is stunned, isn't entirely sure what just happened. He stares in disbelief at the hole on the man's chest. A hand closes around his arm and Aeryn drags him away. No one moves to stop them as she pushes him outside.

He feels sick. His knees give and he drops, shaking violently, suddenly terribly weak.

"Yotz," Aeryn is saying. "Frelling yotz."

His palm looks as it did before, as it has since he first came round, but he can feel the odd tingle of power as it drains away. "What… happened?" he asks numbly. "What did I do?"

Aeryn Grabs his arm and pulls him to his feet. "Move, Bialar. We have to get out of here. They'll only be shocked for so long and then they're going to want your frelling head. Move!"

She pushes him towards where they left the Prowler and he manages to stay on his feet long enough, though he half collapses again within a few metras.

"Tired," he moans. "So tired."

"Yeah, well, exhausting all your engery like that will make you weary. Yotz, well I guess that answers that question."

He shakes his head. "Which one?"

"The lines, Bialar. Your body has the same lines Talyn did. You can generate the Starburst energy."

"No…"

"Do you want to go back and look at the man you just blew a hole in without a weapon?" she asks tartly.

"Aeryn!"

"Really not the time," she says and pulls him up. "Get in the frelling Prowler. We'll discuss it when we're safe."

"We're? No. You go. I… can't. I might hurt you."

"You haven't done so far. I'll just be sure not to frell you off. Now get in!"

Bialar numbly clambers in, his mind in freefall as the truth of what he's done dawns. Starburst. He stares at his palm, innocuous enough, but apparently deadly. Aeryn climbs into the pilot's seat and yanks down the canopy. He leans back and closes his eyes as the engines fire, feels the microt the fighter lifts off the ground.

They say nothing as the ship soars upwards, climbs into the atmosphere and out into space.

He can't work out how he did it, never mind how it is that he can do it. Or what it even is.

"Aeryn?" he croaks nervously.

"How're you doing?"

"I… I… What am I?"

"A Sebacean-Leviathan hybrid." She snorts a laugh. "Seems fitting since you spent so long trying to make one that you end up becoming your own creation."

He huffs, the shock dissipating somewhat. "You have a warped sense of what is fitting," he replies sourly. "What exactly happened? What did you see?"

"You lit up," she says, wonder creeping into her tone. "Just as Talyn or Moya would going into Starburst. Then you gestured at that man and… well, you know the rest. It was over very quickly."

"I didn't mean to do it," he says, stressing that point, needing her to know that.

"Well, no. I shouldn't have thought so. After all, you didn't know you could do it."

"No, but… What I mean was that there was no conscious attempt. I didn't even think about killing him, just… He fired at you and I wanted to protect you."

"Starburst is a defensive action," Aeryn reminds him. "There was danger and so you acted instinctively."

"On an instinct I did not even know I had."

"You do now."

Bialar says nothing but stares out at the stars. The incident was over too fast for him to figure out at what point instinct might have fired an unknown defensive response. He cannot pin it down – his memory is full of his overwhelming concern for Aeryn. He hopes that he can control it though, because otherwise he is going to present a danger to her.

And he cannot allow anyone to do that. Not even himself.