Thank you for being so patient for this chapter. It is the catalyst chapter so I worked very hard on it and would appreciate a response in the form of reviews.

A huge thank you to MakoAnima for beta-reading!

Chapter 8: The Destruction of Innocence

Dock M-092 was one of a hundred docks located on platform M. Incased in oxygen, Torim and his posse made their way to tunnel M. They had arrived earlier then most and walked towards the it alone.

Congested at the tunnel's entrance and lining its sides, thousands of news-crews lay in wait. Upon seeing the approaching Chairman and Ambassador, they sprang into action. They stranded at the laser fence restraints and pleaded with the many security guards for a closer look.

They were all around Torim, screaming their questions and snapping photos. The lights were blinding as Torim continued to lead his group, his arm neatly tucked around Sonilla the entire time.

Out of nowhere, a camera man shot over the fence and slipped past a pair of guards. He came flying at Maelos, his camera flashing.

Samus had placed herself between Maelos and the tunnel's wall. The photographer was, unluckily for him, oblivious to her until she subtly shoved him from behind and sent him sprawling to the floor. His camera shattered and several of his peers laughed as the guards came and took him away.

Finally, they neared the tunnel's end. They could see the warm white glow of Puideya's topmost chamber; a gate barred the way.

Where the paparatsie's excess ended, the sea of reporters redoubled their efforts to get a word from Torim or Maelos. The security also doubled their efforts to keep them at bay.

Without a word, Torim stopped and extended his arms. The entire tunnel's worth of news-people stopped their shouting and pointed their microphones at him, hoping to better the sound quality.

Samus, and all the others, quietly gapped at Torim. How could one man silence an entire mob like this? The only sound to be heard was the clicking of cameras and a single cough from the back.

"I am very pleased at this Ball's outcome. Hopefully, we can solve a number of problems tonight. I speak for all the Council now as I welcome you," he projected his voice so all could hear.

He turned to lead them on when a near-by reporter asked loudly, "and what of Ambassador Tebral?"

"Ambassador Tebral will make all of his opinions known later tonight, as he will be giving speech," Torim addressed them.

He said no more and motioned for Maelos and company to follow. The news crews let them go and quickly turned back to the tunnel's beginning. They soon became occupied with a representative who had recently been exposed as an addicted gambler with million of credits in debt.

At the gate, Torim and his group were stopped by a quartet of very official looking humans and asked to verify their invitations.

"Joseph Torim, with Sonilla Torim," answered the Chairman.

"Maelos Tebral with my father, Geros Tebral, and friend, Aideen Bridgit," Maelos said casually. He'd been through this many a time.

"Very good," answered the quartet's leader, "you may proceed. Please follow your official guide, who will take you to your table."

A woman in a white suit stepped out of an unseen door and opened the gate for them. Then she walked out and started to lead them to their table.

To the echo of a million voices they entered the convention. Puideya's gathering hall was a vast open dome with thousands of sparkling lamps lining the rounded walls. Hundreds of thousands of circular tables stretched out to the room's end, each one clothed in white linen and set for dining. A marble dance-floor in the center of the room was home to a large ensemble of string musicians that were tuning their instruments and preparing to play. Next to the ensemble was a circular podium that stood many feet above everything else. There were also several regiments of troopers stationed along the walls.

Geros looked up and was astounded at what he saw.

The hall they were in was the topmost level of Puideya Station, and hundreds of feet above them, the domed ceiling stood. It was made of glass and granted the looker visual access to the darkness of space. The stars sparkled outside, tiny white dots in a mess of black.

Wow, thought the mechanic as he marveled at the architecture. He suddenly felt very small and insignificant.

"Father, come on!" exclaimed Maelos as he pulled on Geros's arm.

Geros came back to reality and he and his son rushed to catch the others.

"You will be seated here tonight, Chairman," said the official. They were placed in the middle of the grand hall, right next to the dance floor and roughly 50 feet form the speaker's podium.

On the other side of the marble floor was seated the Council. Maelos also noted that every table around the Council's table was part of the Zenian Party. In fact, he realized, that entire side of the hall of occupied by the House's majority party, the Zenian.

"If you need anything, we are at your service," finished the official with an elegant bow.

"Well," said Maelos as he collapsed in his seat, "I was expecting reporters and cameras, mobs of people, but…" he shrugged.

"That was...different," commented Geros.

Sonilla snickered and turned to Samus, "he'll feel that later," she said in reference to Samus's shove.

Samus just grinned in reply.

All around them, other representatives and Ambassadors were being seated. Several times Maelos and Torim had to rise and greet their peers, every time having to speak about Yitrun.

"Enough," muttered Maelos as a representative of Myrino left them.

"May I introduce the Ambassador of Aret, Devajor Misba," came a voice from behind them. They turned and saw an official escorting Devajor to them, "he has requested to be seated with you tonight."

"He is more then welcome to join us," answered Torim.

"Hello," said Devajor as the official left. His normally smiling face was contrite. He gave off a feeling of sad mellowness.

"Hi," answered Maelos," where's Anne?"

"She's working," sighed Dev as he sat down in an empty seat. He then explained, "Anne works as a manager and consultant for one of the GF's food supply divisions. They've got her doing everything- setting up deliveries and rations for troops. It's crazy!"

"They're seriously going to fight?" asked Sonilla.

"Oh course..." Devajor's answer came as a deep sigh.

He was so tired of fighting, so tired of all this. All his years of study just to be forced into a corrupt government and have his ideals ridiculed and shot-down. He had worked so hard for good, and now everything he valued was being destroyed in just a couple of days by something he had no power over.

The conversation lulled into an uneasy quiet. Then Torim rose, and across the room, so did the Council.

"It's time for the opening speech," he said and headed to the podium.

"Good luck," Devajor wished him.

"Yes," said Maelos, "good luck."

Samus looked at him and nodded.

"You'll do great," said Sonilla with confidence to her father.

Torim headed to the podium and was met there by the Council. A hush fell on the crowd and the lights dimmed as Torim stepped onto the podium. It closed around him so that just his torso was visible. Then it rose on silent gears and slides. Revolving slowly, everyone had good view of the Chairman as he started to speak.

"Good evening to everyone! As you all undoubtedly know, today has been a painful day for many. And it is strange that it should happen on this day, when we are here to better society by confronting the evil around us..." Torim was saying.

"Aideen!" whispered Maelos.

Samus averted her eyes from Torim and looked at Maelos, who was on her left.

"We have to dance," he whispered.

Samus raised an eyebrow. What's this about dancing?

"...and now, all serious matters of this sort shall be put aside for later. Right now, let us be joyful for what we do have. Let the Ambassadors come forward for the traditional Marcanum, and let dinner be served!" Torim's voice echoed in the round hall.

"Now?" she questioned above the noise of the clapping convention.

"Yes, come on!" shouted Maelos.

All around them, Ambassadors were taking the floor. Back at the tables, servers were arriving with four-star dinners and wines. But even with all the movement and activity, Samus could feel the weight of thousands of eyes on her.

The Ambassadors and their escorts formed a rough block of stationary pairs. They stood at the ready, arms around waists and shoulders and hands clasped. The ensemble also stood at the ready, bows just above the strings of their instruments. It was as if the center of the room had been paused while the rest of it was still on play.

"Maelos," Samus whispered as the waited, "I can't dance."

"Just follow me," replied Maelos as they began.

The conductor raised his baton and with a simple stroke started the dance. The music was stiff and old, an ancient ballad from a lost era.

"They may look good," said Geros, "but Samus needs some dance lessons."

He and Torim were standing up and watching the couples. Indeed, Samus could have profited from some lessons. She moved gamely on, but there was no disguising that she was a novice dancer. She kept stepping on Maelos's feet as he blazed their trail. Each time she did, he would try not to grimace and she would try to anticipate the next turn. They missed nearly every cue for a turn or dip, being late every time.

When it finally ended, Maelos hurriedly dropped his hands from Samus's and looked around while trying to stifle nervous laughter. Samus looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Well, they tried," commented Devajor as he stood up. "I'm going to the bar. I'll be back."

"I feel sorry for Dev," Sonilla watched him go, "he's really distressed."

"We'll fix it soon enough," replied Geros.

"Who is that?" asked Gavin Medici.

"I don't know, sir, but she's fine," whistled the man next to him.

"Find out who it is, would you please?" Medici commanded; it wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir."

Samus stood at the corner of the dance floor nearest her own table. Her feet were hurting already from her heels, but she ignored them. She had a good view of their table and the Council's table, as well as the dance floor and bar. Poor Devajor sat at the said bar, mournfully staring at his glass of whisky.

She had no time to be sorry for him, though, as she was feeling sorry for herself. What had Torim and Maelos thought? That they would just not tell her about the Marcanum? There was no hiding her dismal performance, and no way to make it up to Maelos. He was a good man, and a good dancer. For once, she had been the inept one. What were they thinking! she thought.

Out of the corner of her right eye, she caught sight of a man approaching her. She'd seen his type before--lustful and unable to take 'no' for an answer. They'll never learn. She would have loved to have taken her anger out on him, but this was no place for a scene like that; she would have to be inconspicuous.

"A woman like you should be dancing, not standing alone," said the man in a suggestive voice once he reached her.

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied and turned her back on him.

"Please?" laughed the man as he grabbed her hips and tried to turn her around.

"No," she said in a dangerously low voice.

This man couldn't be swayed though; his breath smelled of alcohol.

He made another, closer advance and Samus met him halfway. She turned around and grasped his hands. She began to led him to an empty seat. At the same time, she started to crush his hands and tears began to form in his eyes At the table was a human, some sentinel she didn't recognize, and a Gieraf.

The man started to cry out in protest, his shouts making the table's occupants start in surprise. The tears in his eyes spilled over as Samus squeezed harder and broke several bones in his hands.

"Ha, I told him not to drink so much, but he just didn't listen," Samus told them as she set the man in the chair and released his hands from her iron grip. He immediately buckled over in pain, moaning because of what Samus had done. To the three sentinels, he looked for the world like a crying drunk.

"Could you watch him while I get him some coffee?" she asked them sweetly, her eyes full of concern.

They nodded.

"I'll be right back, dear," she said and patted the broken man on the head, then she walked to another one of her appointed observation posts.

He watched her go, his mind clouded by pain. After several deep breaths, he wiped his eyes with the inside of his arm. Courteously thanking the staring table, he got up and then painfully made his way back to Medici.

"Huh," Medici mused, "a stranger arrives with Tebral and Torim…we don't know her name, she's never danced the Marcanum, and she easily bested one of my better men..."

"I'd check her iris scan," said the woman at his right, "the reporters must have gotten a picture if she was with Tebral."

Medici turned to her and grinned mischievously.

"What would I do without you? You're so smart," Medici said in a mock baby voice before he began to passionately kiss her.

"Are you ready, Maelos"?" asked Torim when he arrived back at the table.

Maelos nodded in answer. He was more nervous then the night he had been shot.

"Well, you've got half an hour to get ready…Geros, we'd better get Devajor before he drowns himself."

"Alright," Geros obliged.

Both widowers left their children and went to get Devajor.

Maelos watched the dancers on the floor before them. Suddenly, he was aware that it was just him and Sonilla at the table now. It was getting hotter.

He turned to her, but just as he did, the ensemble stopped playing and the floor applauded for them. He gave them one exasperated glance and then turned back to his drink.

"Maelos?" asked a sweet voice. Sonilla stood in front of him, "would you like to dance with me?"

Surprise took Maelos first as the ensemble raised their bows and started again, this time with a quick waltz. Then he nodded and followed her.

Finding an open space amid the rotating dancers, Sonilla stopped and waited for Maelos to place his hands on her.

He took her right hand in his and placed his left on her waist. Her dress was soft under his palms, and he could feel the heat of her body through the light material of her dress.

She followed suit and put her free arm on his left shoulder.

"Ah," he winced audibly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied reassuringly, "it's still a little tender, but I'm okay. Go ahead."

She tried again, very gently this time, and before she could say another word, Maelos started to dance.

The pace he set was brisk to say the least, but Sonilla was a good dancer too and was game for the speed.

The song they danced to was a sweeping waltz with a strong legato melody. It swayed back and forth like an ocean tide, and the two of them personified that feeling as Maelos led her expertly around the dance floor. Sonilla was such a relief for him after Samus's clumsy step.

They neared the dance's climax and Maelos doubled the pace; Sonilla held on to him tightly so she wouldn't be left behind. Dashing around the other couples; they were swirling round and round and round...

It ended, and they both snapped to a halt. As the hall erupted in courteous applause for the musicians, they remained still, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

Sonilla moved first. She had not expected such a race, had not imagined how Maelos would sweep her around like that-as if he had danced a hundred times with her.

"Maelos," she began.

He came back from wherever his closed eyes had taken him and instantly released her from his firm hold.

"You dance well," he said, then backed away, careful not to seem imposing.

"You too," she added.

"Really?" he asked modestly, "well...I try."

She laughed, and they returned to their table.

"There was a match," said Rakillen, the man whom Samus had 'bested', "but you won't believe who it is..."

"Actually, I'm sure it's who I thought it would be," replied the woman.

"Let me see," demanded Medici.

Rakillen handed him the paper, his hands were now wrapped. Medici took the printout. He looked at it and grinned as if he too had expected it.

"May I go to the medics now?" asked Rakillen anxiously.

"Go," Medici waved him away absentmindedly. He checked the paper again and then turned to the woman on his right.

"You are so useful, my dear," he flattered his mistress.

"It was all too easy," she closed her eyes like a content cat.

"It's Aran," Medici said out loud to the Council table.

Silence followed, permeated only by the jingling of silverware and the rustle of evening gowns. The assorted species stared at Medici and Rakillen, few dared to look at his mistress. Some are surprised and doubtful, others frowned and narrowed their eyebrows in thought.

"So, the traitor is Torim!" snorted a menacing sentinel next to Medici. He slammed the table and made the dishes and other Council Members jump.

"If only the old ways were still in use," echoed a gruff looking human, "he deserves torture for such betrayal!"

"Oh, Lucius, do be quiet," said a creature next to him. This one was covered in waxy scales and resembled a snake. She turned her liquid eyes to Medici with obvious expectation, "there are worse ways to die."

"Westilo is right," said Medici authoritatively. The table was silent as he reached into his tux jacket and whispered slowly, "there are other, worse, ways to die."

Maelos and Sonilla reached their table. Searching for her wine glass, Sonilla found it empty. She reached for her father's glass.

"He won't mind," she said to Maelos.

The red liquid barely touched her lips when Torim had reappeared, leading Geros and Devajor, and taken the glass from her.

"Oh yes, I will," he said in mock seriousness, " '96 was far too good a year to allow someone else, even my daughter, to drink it."

Then he drained the glass and proceeded to say, "and if you can dance with young Maelos here, then I believe I am entitled to a dance from you as well!"

"Of course, daddy," Sonilla said with a twinkle in her eye.

She gave him such a look of fondness that Maelos couldn't describe it. It was the sort of loving look that could only happen between father and daughter.

It was beautiful.

Sonilla took her father's hands. She loved how they fit around hers. They were just the right size to enclose her small manicured ones and keep them warm.

She playfully leaned forward, meaning to drag her father out to the slow 3-step that was being played. Resistance met her and she pulled harder. Still, Torim did not move.

Turning around, Sonilla faced her father, and, as she did, her expression changed from happiness to confusion.

Samus stood at the other end of the room, surveying Medici's table. The entire Council seemed very smug. She assumed it was because of the morning's results, and once again felt her insides turn to ice. Then her eyes found something that hadn't been there before.

A woman sat at Medici's side. Her pointed face was shielded by long blond hair that looked too perfect to be real. She sat at such an angle that Samus knew she must be in discomfort despite Medici's arm around her. And, Samus reasoned, I bet that long-sleeved dress covers up the bruises that are causing her discomfort.

Samus stared long and hard at the woman and then the woman looked her way. Their eyes met across a sea of people and tables, and Samus knew without a doubt that the woman was Lorie Moli. How did she get out! Samus's mind shouted.

Lorie smiled maliciously, as if hearing the thought, but then they heard a sound that caused them both to turn.

The scream that filled the hall triggered an immediate reaction in Samus. She took off and ran full-out to her charges. The music and dance was forgotten as everyone questioned one another about the deafening noise. Flying around a table, Samus found a circle of people gathered around Maelos and them.

In the center of the commotion, Torim was gasping for air. Sonilla clung to him and kept asking what was wrong. Suddenly, Torim fell and Geros leapt from his chair to help Sonilla support him. He helped her gently place him back in his chair, and then both Maelos and Devajor shouted for help.

Their cries cut through the now quiet room like a knife, and the small circle around Torim began to shrink away as they realized they were needed for help. They were just as confused and wanted nothing to do with the injured Chairman. No one wanted to be singled out for fear of disapproval from another.

Samus pushed her way through and put her hand to Torim's throat. As she had expected, it was stiff, constricted by the poison...

And all the while, Sonilla knelt next to her father on the floor amongst her friends and the fine cushioned dining chairs. Her hands moved frantically from his hands to his chest to his throat to his hands again. She didn't understand what was going on. Why was this happening?

Panic filed her and she screamed as she numbly swayed back and forth. Father! Father! Father!

"Help him!" she shouted in a shrill voice as tears welled up in her eyes, "help him!"

"There she is!" yelled Medici from the Council's table. He stood and pointed a finger at Samus in condemnation, "Samus Aran! She has killed the Chairman. Capture her!"

The soldiers followed Medici's orders immediately. The people who had surrounded them broke and ran in chaos as the troopers came.

"Get her out of here, Maelos! Now!" Samus commanded.

She took out the transmitter and dove under the nearest table as shots were fired at her.

"Now, Creto!" she shouted into it over the sound of exploding china and the general pandemonium.

A rippling noise blasted through the room and the lights flickered. The floor shuddered and guests fell down as everyone made for the exits. Creto had detonated the wave EMP.

Samus got up and saw the GF soldiers weaving their way through the swarming crowd and the dining tables. Since she was in the middle of the room, it would take them some time to reach her, but not much.

A single soldier, who had covered the ground so quickly by jumping on the table tops, rushed to confront her. He swung his rifle at her head, and she dodged it. Samus ripped the tablecloth off of the nearest table and sent the dining ware flying at her attacker.

This trooper was unperturbed though and managed to knocked her over with a blow to her legs.

He leapt on her, pinning her to the floor and trying to handcuff her.

Samus called upon her proven strength and threw him off. She then twisted, grabbed a knife from amongst the fallen silverware, and stabbed him in the thigh.

The soldier cried out in pain but was silenced when Samus slammed his head into the floor multiple times. Not even his helmet could keep safe from such blows.

Samus stood back up, shaking on her uneasy legs and high heels. She ripped the stylish shoes from her feet, flung them aside, and then ran back to Maelos.

"Sonilla! Come on!" shouted Maelos as Medici gave the order to capture them too.

"No!" sobbed Sonilla. She held on to her father's lifeless body and didn't move.

"Maelos!" Samus called from a few tables away. She beckoned them with her hand and then shouted, "look out!"

Maelos looked up to see almost a dozen soldiers coming at them through the bottleneck of tables. They pushed aside frightened guests, unmindful of who it might be, to reach them.

The nearest started to run for Maelos, who had spread himself in front of the weeping Sonilla to protect her, when a black blur knocked the trooper over.

"Go! We'll hold them!" yelled Devajor as he wrestled with the soldier on the floor.

Geros stepped in front of the others, armed with his plate and knife.

"You will not harm my son!" he shouted at them.

"Run, Maelos!"

The man with dark eyes had no more time to think. He grabbed Sonilla by the waist and, using all his strength, pulled her off her father's corpse.

He had one fleeting glance of his father and best friend fighting off the soldiers before he turned to Samus and, still holding Sonilla, began to run for his life.