Author's Note: Thank you to my mystery guest reviewer! I really appreciate it. A big thank you and also a Happy Birthday to Krashkart. Thanks for being my sounding board!

A quick primer on the Paradine before we begin!

The Paradine were introduced at the end of Season Four and we find out that Dylan is one of them. We never learn much about them except that they can travel through space and time, even to the beginning of the Universe, to manipulate events and change the timeline, that they protect the Lambent Kith, and by the finale, that Dylan is the last one left. Dylan doesn't remember being Paradine at all, or how to access his powers.

Marlowe is the Paradine who informs Dylan that he is one of them and was the leader of the Arkology and Flavin is the one who guides Dylan in the Seefra system.


Beka was not surprised to see Dylan round the corner into the Maru's galley, a heaviness about him that sloped his shoulders and hunched his back. It was now 2000 hours and had been a long day for them all. As he stepped into the room and under the brighter lighting, she saw how the last year had pressed more wrinkles into his clean-shaven face, especially around the eyes, and sewn a few more grey hairs onto his scalp. How had she not noticed before now the number of years Seefra had put on her friend?

Because in Seefra it didn't matter, she thought, In Seefra, the only person who mattered was you. A small part of her wished for that hard, lonesome, yet simpler life back. It wished to walk the selfish, less honorable path, the one where missiles didn't fly because she rescued slave children from Dragon ships.

She bobbed her head in greeting as he stepped into the room and took a seat across from her at the table, leaning his broad shoulders against the bulkheads. Andromeda's bots had laid out a veritable buffet hours ago—whole fruits and vegetables, a plate of multigrain muffins and bagels, an assortment of dips and spreads, and keep-cool pitchers of water and cali-melon juice—enough food for at least six people. So far, Beka was the only one to touch anything more than a single piece of fruit.

Having food just appear while you slept—and not starving—was a point in favor of this life. She reached out and grabbed a piece of Xinti dragon fruit, her favorite, and took a bite through its bumpy red skin, savoring the sweet and sour juices that exploded on her tongue. She motioned with her chin to the food. Dylan grabbed a plate and placed a seeded bagel on it, spreading it with a generous serving of cream cheese.

A rhythmic thumping rose through the deck plates from the Engine room, interrupted every so often by a crash or metallic twang. Harper at work, rock music blaring at deafening levels beneath their feet. All was not quiet on the Eureka Maru. That was the way Beka liked it—not loud, but alive.

Dylan's gaze drifted over her shoulder after a particularly loud ring reverberated off the bulkheads, his eyes narrowed. She turned to follow it though she didn't need to. A crumpled pile of blankets and red hair with a set of golden toes sticking out lay on Trance's darkened bunk. She was curled up on her side, face smashed into the pillow with fingers clutching the blanket beneath her chin. Trance remained still, not even a twitching at the sudden noise from below decks.

"Has she moved at all since I was here earlier?" Dylan asked, eyebrow raised. Beka shook her head.

"Not a millimeter in three hours. I've never seen her sleep so still." An understatement. Trance was a restless sleeper, rolling around so much Beka thanked the Divine she'd assigned her the bottom bunk all those years ago. And, while she wasn't a light sleeper who woke at the slightest sound like Harper used to—Earther instincts on overdrive—Beka had frightened her half to death the other night by dropping a metal bottle in the galley. This level of noise should have woken her long ago.

"Huh," Dylan said, taking a bite of his bagel and shifting his attention back to Beka, eyes flickering thoughtfully. She sensed that he wanted to chat and was grateful for the company. Trance had kept her company earlier after she woke from her injuries, but shortly after Dylan announced he was coming down to get information on their young guest, a sudden and overwhelming need to sleep had overcome Trance—or, more likely, a desperate need to avoid talking to Dylan. Regardless, she must have needed it, as she had been journeying in Dreamland ever since.

Beka loaded a plate with a muffin, some sweet red peppers from Gerilan III, plain old Earth carrots with purple and yellow flesh, and a large scoop of a spicy, creamy dip she didn't know the name of. No matter. In forty-one-years she had eaten many things whose name and origin were a mystery. At least Andromeda and Trance grew most of this and the auto chef prepared the rest. Her plate overflowed—healing from plasma burns always made her hungry.

"Let's go to the cockpit," she said, standing. The skin regenerating beneath her shirt stretched out on an invisible loom, sharp pain pushing through her medication. She winced, bringing a hand up to her side, the dressings a smooth lump beneath the thin fabric of her tank top. It itched. Badly. She imagined millions of tiny bugs crawling around underneath, building her skin up again, like drones in drydock, adding bits piece by piece until it was smooth once more. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she pushed the unpleasant image away, reminding herself that medical nanos were invisible and more than sanitary.

"I'm fine," she said, catching Dylan's concerned glance. His bemused expression said he didn't believe her. Fair enough. Anyone healing from life-threatening burns and a concussion who said she was fine should reconsider her definition of the word, but she could walk. That was good enough for her. She led the way, favoring her uninjured side. The burns still objected. She told them to shut up, never comfortable with authority.

In the cockpit she climbed into her pilot's chair, as much an easy chair to her as a recliner in a mudfoot's living room. Dylan sank down on the stairs, balancing his plate on his knee. Here they could chat without disturbing Trance—though Beka was certain she could sleep through an all out assault on the Maru at this point—or worrying about Harper wandering in on their conversation as he scavenged for caffeine or sustenance.

"I don't know what to do with her," Dylan admitted.

"Trance?" she asked, making sure.

"Doyle told you the story?"

Beka schooled her expression, putting effort into keeping the muscles of her lips from twitching into an amused smile. She had heard the story of Trance's brash and heroic actions. Perhaps she might have found it less amusing, less likely to become the stuff of legend, had she been conscious during the crisis and worried about Trance's safety? However, though tired, Trance had been fine by the time Beka woke and sat nibbling a piece of fruit on her bunk while Doyle regaled Beka with the tale, cheeks flaming almost the color of her pre-Seefran self again.

"Did she actually tell Andromeda she would have to restrain her?" Beka asked. She bit her lip though unrealized laughter colored her tone. Doyle had heard it straight from Rommie, but Trance would neither confirm nor deny. In fact, she'd been quiet the entire conversation, eyes turned down, giving monosyllabic answers when directly queried—embarrassed by her behavior as far as Beka could tell. Beka thought it was brilliant.

"Yes, she did," he deadpanned. She smiled now. A tiny smile. Just a miniscule curling at the corners of her mouth. Dylan's feelings were as valid as the situation was amusing. She and Harper had both fallen victim to Trance's self assuredness before; moments when sweet, loyal Trance pushed forward with what she believed to be the right course of action, head full of steam. An unstoppable force. Until now, Dylan had remained immune to these fits. There was a hint of schadenfreude in watching him take his turn in the dunk tank.

"It isn't funny," Dylan said. "She was insubordinate and showed complete disregard for both the command structure and her own safety."

"She saved my life. Doyle says her nano-programming cut my recovery by days. She performs medical miracles. I'm not sure you'll get an unbiased opinion from me." It had been a relief to see Trance's face there when she woke up, by her side, as always.

Dylan chewed on his bagel for a moment, taking his time, or buying time. Either one. "That's the problem, isn't it? Whenever Trance does something like this, she has a good reason. Her heart is always in the right place."

Beka's smile stretched, "That's just Trance. How many times has she told us we shape the Universe with our intentions?" She pinched a piece off the top of her muffin and ate it.

"Good intentions or not, a well run ship has rules and structure. She can't just circumvent my command because she believes she is right… is right." Frustration branded each word, burned deeply into the flesh. This was an old argument. A tired one. To Beka, he sounded like he had already chosen to let it go, but needed a reason to justify that decision. "She is off duty for a reason. She overworked herself and might have put herself back on Med Deck."

Beka took a bite of dragon fruit, buying herself time to fish for the right words. She chewed on the fibrous pulp while her brain combined and disassembled sentence blocks, searching for the correct combination. How did you convince someone predestined to protect another that the best way to protect her might be to take a step back? Especially when just this morning she had been arguing with Harper from Dylan's side. A lot can happen in a day. And it isn't like destinies came with users manuals. If they did, neither one of them would be having this conversation, and her side wouldn't be itching so damn much.

"Dylan, I think you should put her to work," she said, deciding to go the direct route. He responded best to direct whether he believed it or not.

He stared at her through narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, one arched a sliver higher than the other.

"How do you figure?" The skepticism in his voice matched his expression. She adjusted herself, wriggling around, searching for relief from the itching. It was so distracting and this was important. Instead of finding relief, her side ached more, voicing its complaint. Fine, forget it. She stopped moving and looked Dylan directly in the eye.

"Trance asked when she could work again. For Trance, that is practically begging. She is feeling disconnected from the only life she knows. She can't return to any other life at this point. Andromeda, us, her job... It's all she has," she explained. "And, she is tired, but fine. Better than fine. She is actually sleeping without tossing and turning or waking up for the first time since she left Med Deck."

"So, reward her by putting her back to work when I am not even certain it is a good idea?" he asked, his errant eyebrow climbing higher. She rolled her eyes and did nothing to conceal it.

"You are using your captain brain right now," she told him flatly.

Dylan let out a frustrated sigh. "What brain am I supposed to be using?"

"Your friend brain. It's not a reward, it's prevention. Give her back control so she doesn't feel like she has to take it," Beka explained, training him with the look—a glare that told Dylan she didn't like the way he was handling her crew. She hadn't needed to use it in years. "How many times have you ignored Trance's medical orders? We've all done it. You, me, and Harper. Multiple times. How is what she did any different except that she doesn't have a medical officer to disobey, just a bunch of overprotective friends, one of which happens to be her captain?"

And she had him. She saw it in the way his lips pressed together, and in the way his eyes lost focus. He had taken her words to heart, was parsing them, worrying them through the mechanics of his mind.

"We have a lot of new crew, and more coming. It is understandable that you are in captain mode. You have to be. But when we signed on five-years-ago I made it clear we would never be military. Our crew follows their hearts, Dylan, and Trance most of all." Why else would she have risked everything and run from her people to protect not just them, but the entire Universe?

"I know," he said, breathing a great sigh. And then, after a pause, "I'll have to think about it. Speaking of people who follow their hearts, I didn't come here to discuss Trance tonight, to be honest. You told me the details earlier, but what really happened out there?"

He could have been angry or annoyed with her actions. God knows she would be back in the day if Harper had gone out to make peace with a client and cowboyed out of the place, guns drawn, taking the client's property with him instead. Even if that property happened to be another human being. Random acts of heroism led to trouble in the form of missiles, blacklists, and lost business. But Dylan's tone held a blend of sadness and understanding, trademarks of idealism born in better times. Contagious idealism.

His question was the million throne question, and she didn't have an answer. She took a pepper, covered its smooth, shiny orange surface with dip and bit into it, taking a moment. The skin snapped beneath her teeth, sweet spice setting fire to her mouth, a pleasant burning sensation.

"I don't know Dylan. We were about to talk. They took me on a tour of their damned ship—Gardens to rival the Andromeda's, art and artifacts on every wall and surface, the kind of opulence Nietzscheans use to intimidate you. And slaves. They were everywhere," she explained, "I've been able to ignore them before. I've had to trade and work with Nietzscheans my entire adult life. The Dragons aren't the only ones who enjoy showing humans exactly what they think of them by flaunting their wealth and slaves. I've even stood by while Nietzscheans punished their slaves. Some not much older than Jace. But this time… this time I snapped."

"Perhaps because you feel responsible now?" Dylan asked.

That was the crux of it. She said nothing because he was right. Because the weight of her new responsibilities grew heavier and harder to bear each day. Because without consulting her more rational brain, her heart had decided she wanted to save them all.

She tried to tell herself it was out of character. But, she heard the bass of Harper's music as he fixed up the Maru. She was sitting here because of Trance's skill with medicine. Every day she remembered lessons Rev taught her in the years they crewed together—missing him dearly. Broken people. Lost people. People who needed her help. She'd brought them under her wing, gave them shelter on her ship. They'd repaid her kindness tenfold over the years. Her tiny family gave lie to her meek attempts to rationalize selfishness.

"I can't save them all," she said finally, voicing her thoughts aloud. She had to hear them. I can't save them all, she repeated silently. A proclamation. A decree. Or, maybe just the start of a mantra to wrap around her heart like a soft blanket and protect it from bruising and breaking when some of who she wanted to protect slipped through the cracks.

"That's probably true," he admitted, not throwing his usual, and often misguided, optimism in her direction, "but you are the only person who has a chance."

And he was right again. Because Dylan was often right. And when he wasn't, she was there to talk sense into him. Together, perhaps they could figure all of this out and keep their crew healthy and happy.

"Andromeda is still searching for Jace's family. I will let you know when she finds something." Dylan said after a moment of silence. Funny, until this moment, she had not stopped to consider the boy's family, or even to ask if he wanted rescuing. Apparently there was a plague of rash decision making on house Valentine. Something in the Eureka Maru's air.

It sounded like he was getting ready to leave, and at the moment, she wanted to share her space with him. "We will meet again in happier days," he'd said outside of Arkology as she prepared to run. They had met again in Seefra, but it had not been a happy meeting. There had been no trust. They'd had to build it up again, brick by brick. But, perhaps even in all the chaos that surrounded them, happier days had arrived, and they were finally meeting again as equals, protectors of their family, and friends.

"Do you have to leave?" she asked. His eyes met hers. The side of his mouth twitched up in a barest hint of a smile.

"No, I think I can stay for a while longer," he said.


Dylan climbed into his bed far later than he intended, tired heavy bones sinking into the foam of the mattress. It cradled him in much needed comfort. He arranged his pillows against the headboard and leaned into them, tense shoulders finally releasing. He breathed in, counting to five, and then out again, pushing the day's stressors out with his breath. They resisted, trying to cling to his insides with tiny barbs, vile little creatures. So he allowed the cycle of breathing to continue until his muscles relaxed and the ribbons constricting his heart released. Now, maybe, he could sleep.

These were the days that tested his resolve, the days where he questioned whether taking on the Universe in a one-on-one battle had been the wisest decision. They were days he wondered why he kept struggling against the undertow, because how bad could it be beneath those brackish waves in that sunken Atlantean world where life was difficult, but still moved on? He could find comfort there. Find a wife. Raise a family. Have what he had lost when he lost Sara.

But, no. He had married his mission when he started this journey. He could not abandon it in good conscience, so the fight would continue until he could no longer drag his bones from his bed.

"Are you ready for your closing report, Captain?" Andromeda asked, appearing at the side of the bed, standing tall, arms behind her back, interrupting his dark thoughts. These thoughts must remain secret. The crew needed his steadfast determination to allay their doubts.

"Go ahead," he ordered, "But first, I'm sure you have something to say about today?" This was their tradition. Before he slept each night Andromeda filled him in on anything that had happened since he left Command and updated him on what he needed to know about his crew's side projects. A chance to set the agenda for the next day and allocate his time to those who needed it, provided nothing came up. Also a chance to get Andromeda's counsel without the distractions of everyday life and duty.

Andromeda tilted her head to the side. "I do not, but my avatar does."

"I take it she is outside?" he asked, receiving a perfunctory nod. "Come on in Rommie."

The door hissed open and Rommie entered, hands also behind her back. She stepped into place beside her hologram, twins in appearance and mannerisms, but not in expression. Where Andromeda had maintained a professional visage throughout their time together, Rommie had developed a style of her own and a personality to match it. Rommie smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Rommie," he said in greeting, returning her smile, "What is it you wanted to say?"

"I believe Beka is correct and we should return Trance to the duty roster," she explained. He did not need to ask how she knew what he and Beka had spoken about earlier. Rommie had instantaneous access to anything Andromeda witnessed or overheard. "I have spoken with both Doyle and Harper as she spends most of her free time with them. They seem to believe what transpired today was not unexpected, and in Harper's opinion, not out of character. She has been growing restless and in my experience, Trance rarely tells us directly what she needs."

Not for the first time as Captain, he got the impression that his senior staff was ganging up on him. And, while it was uncomfortable, he admired them for challenging him. A captain needed a crew, because while a captain always thought he was right, it was hardly the truth. This appeared to be one of those times when his instincts led him to a different conclusion than everyone else.

That reminded him. He turned to the hologram. "Andromeda, you knew where Trance was heading, yet you didn't stop her and only contacted me once she was on the Maru. You could have kept her from leaving her room, or from using the lift to get to Deck 15."

"I did not realize my orders were to imprison Trance," she replied, one brow arched, a smidgen of sarcasm seasoning her words. He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow.

"When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous." An understanding of Beka's words from earlier took form, a ghostly outline gathering substance.

Rommie folded her arms across her chest and raised both eyebrows and pinched her lips together. Neither one said anything, but he saw they agreed. Andromeda spoke first. "In truth, I wanted to see what she would do. She was determined to help Beka and pushed herself harder than she has yet during her rehabilitation."

"Are you saying she is not trying?" he asked. That didn't sound like Trance whose progress was miraculous.

"No, I believe Trance is trying quite hard, but is unconsciously holding back out of fear of pain. When I confronted her on her way to the Maru, I observed these fears were no longer limiting her. I wanted to see how far she would go. I was monitoring her life signs and was prepared to intervene in several ways if the need arose."

There was a common misconception among those with no experience that an AI was a slave to the captain's will. Many new captains learned the hard way that their ship had a mind of its own and that it did not always sit and wait for a captain to give orders. An AI needed the ability to decide, to run the ship even without an organic at the helm. And, sometimes, it used this power to follow the letter of the law, but not the spirit of it. Andromeda had done her duty. She had ordered Trance to stop and reported the insubordination to Dylan as her programming commanded her to. It was a simple matter of timing.

"And you believe returning her to work will encourage her to push past her fears?"

Andromeda gave a quick nod. "I do."

"She is not physically capable of carrying out most of her duties." Time to throw his list of concerns out there and hear what Rommie and Andromeda had to say. He had an open mind, willing to let them talk him into this. By using Andromeda as a sounding board, he would be far more confident of his decision and subsequent plan of action.

Andromeda's AI popped onto the screen. The entire council now present to advise him. This is how a ship showed she cared. "Trance has taken on more roles than any other crew member given her vast knowledge and experience, and her previously short sleep cycle. Regardless of her current physical abilities, her duties will need revising as I estimate she will need to sleep between nine and ten hours a night as well as take regular breaks and mealtimes like the rest of the crew. I recommend a simple solution to start. Allow her to do routine diagnostics, help Harper complete the paperwork he still hasn't touched from our time in drydock, and tend to the hydroponics gardens, all at her own pace. I believe Trance capable of setting a reasonable schedule for herself. As you know, the Triumvirs have requested we be present at Tarazed in two weeks for a ceremony to honor the crew. Perhaps after, you can discuss an official return to duty with Trance."

"There is no reason she cannot complete many of the basic functions of her job as the AG/ES officer with reasonable accommodations. It is her medical responsibilities that pose the biggest challenge. The High Guard has a process in place to reinstate officers during rehabilitation, even from severe illnesses and injuries with extended recovery periods. I have observed that for many organics it is beneficial to their mental health keep busy." said Andromeda's hologram.

"And," Rommie pitched in, "Harper has been sneaking her work for a little over a week and she has not struggled with it."

"Excuse me, but Harper has been sneaking her work?" he asked. Late night space races using Andromeda. Unscheduled excursions in the Maru. Bickering on Command. Practical jokes and sneaking around. When he thought about Trance and Harper's renewed best friend status, his imagination conjured up these images. The two of them had sometimes existed in a world of their own, guided by the homage, 'what the captains don't know won't hurt them'. Old habits died hard. Yet, never had he seen two crew members who worked so comfortably together or who seemed to just get what the other needed. When working together on a project, combining both their vast intellects, they were a force capable of pulling off miracles, making the trouble they got into well worth it on a ship that consumed a steady diet of miracles to survive.

"They are both suffering from insomnia and Trance goes to the machine shop when she can't sleep as Harper is always awake. I don't know the details of what is going on as they engage privacy mode, but I can surmise. Trance has spent years working on her immune boosting nanobots and after a few nights of private conversations they are ready for use. Harper is cute, but he underestimates my powers of deductive reasoning. They aren't just having heart to hearts every night."

"And you are just telling me now?"

"It falls in the realm of a personal project, so they aren't breaking any rules, just being sneaky. Which, is not out of character for either of them. I promise to give Harper a hard time, but not too hard. He is doing it because he wants to make Trance happy."

Dylan sighed and leaned back on his pillow again. Rommie was right, and he would let this one slide for now. Somehow, surprising him, Harper, who had to have a chaperone during diplomatic gatherings, who offended others not out of malice, but out of an inability to retain knowledge of social graces, seemed to understand what Trance wanted and needed better than the rest of them.

Andromeda's hologram studied him before speaking again, "As I said before, there is a process in place to reinstate crew members with similar challenges. I wonder if your relationship with Trance might interfering." Andromeda's hologram added, perceptive as always.

Their unique relationship was holding him back. His instincts told him to go one direction while logic dictated he go another. His hidden past, his destiny as a Paradine and Protector, confused his thought process, making objectivity impossible. All the senior staff had become like family to him over the years, but none so close as Trance.

In the old High Guard, if a captain were incapable of making an objective decision about a crew member—for any reason—he was obligated to transfer that crew member to another ship.

Not going to happen.

"Perhaps you're right. Tell Trance when she wakes up she is free to do the tasks you listed, but emphasize that she is to rest often. Keep an eye on her life signs and remind her to take it easy at the first sign of overwork. She is not to set foot anywhere near Med Deck unless she is feeling ill. We don't need her catching every cold onboard. I need to think about what I will say to her, so I will find her sometime tomorrow," he said, and then added, "It's best if you don't tell her that last part so she doesn't try to avoid me."

"Understood, Captain," Andromeda's hologram said with a nod.

"Now, is there anything else I should be aware of?" He rolled back over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, with hands folded on his chest.

"We received word this evening that the Rindrins have settled on an auspicious date for the Commonwealth signing ceremony. The government and priesthood have both requested our presence for a week of festivities ending in the signing ceremony. The event will take place forty-five days from now." Andromeda reported.

"That should be great for morale. We will tell everyone at the team dinner on Friday," Dylan said, remembering his time on Rindra 300-years-ago, the ultimate hospitality planet. As far as he understood, they had weathered the Long Night well.

"In other, not so great news," Rommie said, "There are reports of unusual solar activity in the Tagus system. it seems the sun is slowly changing orbit and moving towards the three planets in the system, and it has scientists baffled."

Great. Seefra all over again. Only this time there was no braking system and no discernable reason for the sun to relocate. Of course scientists were baffled, they did not understand celestial bodies were sentient. At least having Andromeda scan the news daily for any abnormalities involving stars, planets, and moons—such as a sun changing orbit—was paying off. They had enough warning now to investigate and help if the need arose.

"Start gathering all the information you can from the Tagus system. Find out how fast the sun is moving. We need to prepare to facilitate evacuations. Once we have more information, I'll see what Trance might know."

"Aye, Captain. It may take some time to gather intel. I will send a courier out in the morning," Rommie replied. For once Dylan thought it was best if the information took a few days to arrive. This just surpassed Trance's recent behavior as the topic he least wanted to broach with her.

"What about Jace?

"We still haven't located his family. He was eight-years-old when the Dragons took him and he does not remember the name of his planet. He knows it was a slave planet, and he thinks the Drago Kasov was the Pride in charge that he was not taken by another pride and sold to the Dragons. We are running his dialect through our databases and trying to match it to one of the 416 slave planets the Drago Kasov run either independently or with allied prides," Andromeda's AI explained.

"As for right now, he seems to have settled in well with Ensign Clark. She is more than happy to watch over him for the duration of his stay onboard and he is enjoying the toys and books I found in storage." Andromeda's hologram explained. Dylan tried not to think about the children who those toys were meant for. Had they survived the war? Were their descendants now living on Terazed? At least now the toys brought a small amount of joy and comfort to a child who'd had little of it so far in his short life.

That child could have been Harper, Dylan thought. And it brought Harper's personality and sometimes troubling behavior into perspective. Every so often he needed the reminder that Harper's childhood resembled nothing that existed in the Commonwealth Dylan knew, and that five years in this world was not enough time to grasp the struggles his crew had been through. It was a miracle he survived at all, that he hadn't become a slave, that he was loyal to and loved his friends the way he did. Dylan needed to remember to ask Harper how the search for the Earthers was going, and if there was anything he could do to help.

"Thanks for letting me know. Keep up the search and let both Beka and I know immediately if you find anything. Beka should be back on her feet tomorrow. Is there anything else?" he asked.

"No, Captain," the three said in unison.

"Well, then. Goodnight Andromeda." The hologram and AI repeated his goodnight and winked out. Rommie smiled and bowed slightly.

"See you in the morning, Captain," she said before turning on her heel and walking out the door, arms behind her back, swaying her hips as she moved, a baffling trait she'd picked up after being rebuilt, as if a little bit of Doyle had remained with her.

The lights dimmed until only the various nightlights around the room illuminated his possessions. He settled in and pulled the blankets to his chest. Too many thoughts crowded his skull tonight. Too many loose threads that needed to weaving together. He sensed a significance in these events, but the details eluded him, danced away like fireflies in the night, shining their light here and there for a couple of seconds before fading away and reappearing somewhere else.

When sleep descended on him bringing with it comfort and warmth he was thinking of Trance and wondering why a sun would shift out of orbit knowing she would destroy her planets and moons in doing so.


He stepped out of the fog of sleep into a beautiful world of contradictions. He had been here before, yet he had never seen anyplace like it. His surroundings felt unfinished, a painter's canvas with just the first few layers added. Yet the tree beside him, stretching up towards to a sky of blue crystal dotted with puffs of white clouds, must have been thousands of years old. Its trunk, if hollowed, would seat five people, and the reddish brown bark was thick and weathered. Branches stretched out wide, far above his head, millions of dark green leaves dappling the sunlight as it sank towards the humus covered ground.

This place was a dream, yet he was aware, his senses as alive as they were in the waking world. A sea of green surrounded him. Soft ground gave way beneath his boots, a peaty scent rising from the disturbed soil to mingle with the perfume of flowers and the incense-like aroma of sun-heated wood. It was almost too much to take it. Giants stood tall around him, sloping trunks in every shade of brown and ringed with vines, some whose branches were adorned with tiny leaves that rattled in the breeze and others with giant sheets of green that folded together, creating an almost human whisper. In the distance a brook or stream bubbled. But amidst the music of wind and water no rodents chattered, no birds called, and no insects buzzed about, flitting from flower to flower. A forest alive, but empty of life.

The biggest contradiction was not in his surroundings, but within himself. He was of two minds—Captain Dylan Hunt of the Andromeda Ascendent and someone else, less familiar, who was a part of him, and knew why he was here. He had a mission he could not fail. The hidden part of himself that Flavin, Marlowe, and even Trance alluded to was inside him, and this was his memory. He let that other Dylan Hunt, the Paradine, take control, curious and apprehensive to unlock the door to his past.

A neat dirt path lined with tall grass and wildflowers wended its way through the forest, the foliage blocking its end from view. Who he was looking for would be at the end of the path. How could anyone live in this wild, unfinished, place?

He stepped onto the trail meandering with purpose as it stretched through more dense forest. The sound of the stream increased until he rounded a curve and saw it. On the banks, near a bridge, kneeled child in a green dress with flowers in her short blonde curls. Her skin shimmered like crushed amethysts in a spot of sunlight that broke through a gap in the canopy. She had not noticed him, intent as she was on whatever she held cupped in her tiny hands.

He stepped back, hiding himself, unsure of why. Perhaps he didn't want to frighten or disturb her. Or, perhaps he was curious. From this vantage, he saw her in profile. She appeared to be five or six-years-old, but her true age had to be in the hundreds of millions if measured in Vedran years.

"Life. Energy. Creation," she chanted in the language of the Lambent Kith, repeating it over and over, eyes fixed on her hands. After a minute or two, she stopped and let out a frustrated growl.

"Sister, what is wrong?" another voice called. Out of a tall tree dropped another purple child in brown trousers, a flurry of leaves following in his wake. He fell head first before catching himself with his tail, then flipped mid air so he landed on his feet. He too had flowers woven in his hair and he stood bare chested before his sister with necklaces of woven grass and vines wound about his neck. Their faces were almost identical, with only minute differences to confuse the observer.

"I can't do it," she said, lips pinching into a pout that Captain Hunt knew well. Trance. His Trance—so young. The realization shocked him. Then again, what other Lambent Kith child would he be dreaming about?

"You are giving up too fast," the boy chided. "Just concentrate more. You are always dreaming."

"Help me, please. I am concentrating, it just won't work." Her tone approached a whine.

He sighed "All right, but next time you have to do it yourself." The boy knelt in front of her, placing his hands on hers and gave a nod.

"Life. Energy. Creation," they chanted together. A light grew around their hands as they chanted, and when they finished it faded away. He removed his hands from hers. They both stared at her closed hands in anticipation. She opened them and from them a yellow butterfly with orange markings flitted, dancing around their heads before lighting on her nose. They giggled, sounding every bit like the children they appeared to be. The butterfly lifted into the air once more.

Dylan must have moved or made a sound in his amazement because she turned her head towards the tree he'd concealed himself behind.

"Hello?" she called, "Who is there? There is no need to hide."

The boy, all of a meter tall, stood and moved between his sister and Dylan, legs parted, fists on his hips. The hero's stance. She peered past him with her dark eyes, waiting for Dylan to reveal himself, posture open and trusting, unburdened by fear.

He stepped out of his hiding place, holding his hands out to show he meant no harm. She smiled brightly from behind her brother who watched with suspicious eyes. Captain Hunt knew Trance and understood her welcoming and kind nature, but the Paradine inside had never met the girl. Instead, he knew her brother—a broken a defeated man in a future he was desperate to prevent. She had perished at the hands of the Abyss in his time, long before he could meet her.

"You can understand me," she said. The children, too, were contradictions. Children with children's mannerisms who spoke with the wisdom and vocabulary of aged adults.

Her brother looked back at her, as if to will her to stop talking while he assessed situation, to use caution. Captain Hunt allowed himself a silent laugh. Might as well will the stream at their feet to flow uphill instead of down if Trance had already decided he wasn't a threat. His memory briefly pulled up an image of HG, the bio-contact unit sent to them by the Consensus of Parts, how she had befriended him in an instant and fought to protect him when everyone else onboard meant to harm him. The girl put a hand on her brother's leg. "It is all right."

Dylan took a tentative step forward. The boy did not move, and Dylan took that as guarded permission to come closer. When he was a few steps away and could smell the coolness of the flowing water he squatted down, hands on his knees, his feet sinking into the muddy bank.

"Yes," he answered in Vedran. The Paradine Dylan did not speak the language of the Lambent Kith, only understood it, yet the other Paradine had told him the children spoke Vedran.

The boy's gaze darted down to his sister, then back up to Dylan, eyes sharp, unwavering. Though diminutive in size, his presence loomed over Dylan, as if the trees surrounding them were an extension of him, looking down their noses at this unwelcome trespasser. "You are not Vedran. I do not know what you are." He continued to speak his language.

The girl leaned to see Dylan better, but without looking, her brother shifted to obscure her view. She rolled her eyes and stood, lips drawn in a stubborn line. She stepped to the side, and he put an arm out in front of her chest to block. With an audible huff of frustration she ducked beneath it and darted forward. He lunged, hand stretched out to grab her by her dress, or possibly the tail, but nimble steps, performed with the grace of a gymnast, carried her away too fast. A dance of wills, one well practiced.

"He is a friend, that is all that matters," she said in Vedran, casting a taunting sneer over her shoulder. A look that said, I win. It reminded Captain Hunt of Trance and Harper in the early days though Trance had thought he did not see how she egged Harper on.

"You do not know that." Back to the song of the Kith. No wonder Trance argued and evaded so effectively—she had billions of years experience dancing in verbal circles and parrying words.

She stopped in front of Dylan, her eyes at the same level as his as he crouched. "What are you if you are not Vedran and how did you find this place? This is our…" she trailed off, searching for the Vedran word. Her eyes lit up when she found it. "This is our school. We created all that is here. It is not connected to the other worlds."

"I am Paradine. I came to find your mother, to speak with her. My people led me here," he explained, keeping to the basic details. Flavin had warned the other Dylan in his jovial manner not to misjudge the twins, for children they might be, but children whose minds were as old as the universe. Perceptive. Intelligent. Tricksters by nature. The same as all Lambent Kith children. The older Paradine had met them in another timeline, or perhaps earlier in the same—impossible to tell. Flavin never said what he meant.

He had called them trouble, then. "Especially the girl, Dear One. She'll cause you no end of grief. Watch out for her." His words, as usual, were wrapped in a cloak of mystery. But there was laughter in his voice, a sparkle of fondness in his eyes, and a smile half hidden by his snowy beard.

"You are out of your time," the girl said, searching his eyes with hers. "I sense that this is not your place. You are both here, and elsewhere, in another time and place right now."

"Sister…" the boy warned.

"I will take you to mother." She turned to her brother. "Brother, let mother decide. How can he hurt us? We are avatars." Then, she reached out a hand to Dylan. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the boy who did not seem convinced. The boy had already learned to guard his true self. Or perhaps he was simply born with a more careful personality than his sister. But Captain Hunt knew Trance would learn to hide herself as well one day only to forget again in Seefra. He made a decision and took her hand then offered his other to the boy. He looked to his sister, then to Dylan, and stepped forward taking Dylan's other hand.

"It is this way," he said, pointing to the stone bridge which seemed to have grown from one bank to the other right from the earth. "My sister senses good in you, but you do not belong, so I am unsure. We will let mother decide."

And with that, Captain Hunt woke far from that beautiful hidden world to the shadows in his dim room, yet somehow, warmth clung to his skin and the scent of that sun kissed forest lingered around him.