(A big thank-you to all my wonderful reviewers! Without the motivation you all provided me, I think I would be ripping my hair out by now. Well, more of it, anyways. And as a side note: don't worry, I haven't forgotten about our Clanker spy. He'll come into the story a little later. And I am fully aware that Alek is rather a brat in this chapter. I don't know why it happened. I guess I just like seeing him get upset. :3)

The next morning, Alek was surprised to see a different face at his door. It was the other midshipman, Newkirk, and he didn't seem at all happy about being there. Alek invited him in, and once he'd put down his cargo of toast and scrambled eggs, he burst out, "Mr. Sharp is totally cracked. Did you know that yesterday, he asked me to come do this instead? Like he's avoiding you or something. He's been so jumpy lately, too! I'd bet you anything he's hiding something, sneaking around all secretive-like."

Alek raised an eyebrow. Mr. Newkirk had been standoffish with him in the past, so the sudden confiding of opinions had been unexpected, to say the least. "Yes, I agree. In fact, that's precisely what he told me. It's too bad he failed to mention what that secret was. I've told Dylan a lot of things about myself, things I was planning on keeping from everyone else, at least until that reporter Eddie Malone blackmailed me into an interview. It seems selfish of him to keep his own now that I've given up so much to him."

"Aye," Newkirk agreed hesitantly. He didn't want this Clanker to think they were best friends now, just because they agreed that Dylan was acting strangely. "But he makes everything so obvious. What sort of secret could he possibly have? Why would he want to keep something from us? It seems more likely that he would be running around, crowing enough to make our ears hurt."

Alek sighed and went to the table, indicating that Newkirk should do the same, then put his chin on his hands. "There's just something odd about the whole thing. At some times, it feels like we know each other better than anyone else, but at other times, I don't know him any better than I would a stranger in the street."

Newkirk nodded. "That sounds just about right. You can know Dylan like the back of your hand, but still not know him at all. I've had that happen more than once. But until now, I never really tried to figure out what I didn't know about him, exactly."

"Well, we know for sure that he's hiding something," Alek reasoned. "He said that himself. We just don't have any clues to go by. Unless..." He froze. Count Volger had been talking a lot about Dylan lately, and when they had met again after the Leviathan picked him up in Istanbul, he had turned the topic of the conversation to him with very little reason, and he had acted strangely when Alek suggested Dylan was part of the reason he had given himself up and come back. Had Volger found anything out while he was gone? Whether or not he would share the information was another thing, of course, but Alek decided it was worth a try.

Newkirk continued, "Unless?" Alek snapped back to the room. "Unless we're able to get them from others. Count Volger might have an idea of what it is... back when we got aboard the Leviathan again, he was speaking strangely about Dylan. He might have a lead on all this. The problem would be getting him to tell us," he explained ruefully.

"Well, I'll wish you good luck with that," Newkirk responded with a shrug. "If I see anything out of place, I'll tell you, but I really don't see the reason in chasing Dylan around to figure out what he's hiding. But good luck anyways, I suppose. I should probably be leaving now."

"Alright," Alek said. His mind was whirring now, like one of those giant fans in some of the factories he had seen in Istanbul. He knew that Newkirk was right, and that Dylan's secrets were his own, but he was fuelled by a deep sense of injustice. He barely noticed the sound of the door closing behind Newkirk as he returned to his other duties.

What was Mr. Sharp's secret? There was very little to go on. He was avoiding fencing for some reason. Did that mean he had some kind of physical disability, one that could put him out of the air navy if it was discovered? If that were the case, then Alek hardly understood his reasons for hiding it. He was convinced that Dylan was one of the most able-bodied men aboard the Leviathan. And his reaction to Lilit's kiss; did that mean, then, that he was...? If that was the case, Alek admitted to himself, he would be rather shocked, and perhaps a bit perturbed, but still, it didn't seem to be a secret more important than those that he had shared in the past.

On a whim, Alek decided to see if he could make another visit to Volger. He stood up, his breakfast untouched, and strode towards the door. It was unlocked, but there was a guard posted outside. The Darwinists sure did seem to think he was an important prisoner. He asked the man, whom he vaguely recognized but whose name he couldn't recall, "Would you allow me to go and visit my friend again? I would take about as long as I did yesterday. I wanted to ask him a question."

The guard seemed unsure for a second, but slowly he began to nod, still with the appearance of being deep in thought. "Yes, I don't think that would be a problem. Come along, then." He set off down the corridor at a speedy pace, and Alek nearly ran to catch up. They took the same winding route from the day before, and all the while, Alek subconsciously hoped they might pass by Dylan. He hadn't the slightest idea why—it was hardly as if he could guess the other boy's secret just by looking at him—but he still kept an eye out and peered down adjacent hallways whenever he could.

Unfortunately, they arrived at Volger's stateroom a few minutes later, and Alek had seen no sign of Dylan. He knocked politely and entered when he was invited. The wildcount stood at one of the windows, watching the earth pass by hundreds of feet below. They made the usual courteous greetings as the guard departed, and with that over, Alek was free to ask his urgent question. "What in the world is Dylan hiding? I know you have at least some idea."

"So he hasn't told you, has he?" Volger chuckled, turning from the window to face Alek. He seemed bemused, and wore the face of a clever man who was aware of something everyone else wasn't. Of course, Alek supposed, that was exactly what he was, so he shouldn't have been at all surprised. He continued, "I was beginning to worry for a while that things had developed past the point where they could be controlled, and that I might have to take measures... but you haven't even found out, have you? It's better than I could have hoped for."

Alek bristled with anger. "So you don't want me to know either? Why is it that nobody will tell me? What could possibly be so important that you and Dylan are trying so hard to cover it up?"

"Calm yourself, Prince Aleksandar."

This only fuelled Alek's indignation. "I might, if you agreed to tell me what was going on!" he muttered. Now he was more determined than ever to get to the root of this little secret. The more everyone tried to keep it from him, the stronger his need to figure it out became.

Volger spread his hands in a wry imitation of an expression of helplessness. "Unfortunately, I am sworn to secrecy unless certain circumstances prove otherwise. It will do no good to beg like a starving dog, so be off, would you?"

Alek let out a breath in an annoyed hiss, then stormed out of the room without so much as a farewell. He should have known that this wouldn't help. The startled guard now hurried to catch up with him as he marched back towards his room, every step filled with resentment. He was furious with Dylan, for being so cagey. He was furious with Volger, for being his usual underhand self. He was furious with his heritage, for forcing him to remain confined to one room on this magnificent ship. He was even furious with Newkirk, even though he didn't really have much to do with it all.

He hardly expected his eyes to begin watering as soon as he was back in the safety of his room. Indeed, he didn't understand it at all; he was livid, not miserable, so why were his eyes insisting that he cry? He ignored the burning and wiped the wetness away violently. It was plain ridiculous to be getting that upset over a withheld secret, as if he were a spoiled child left out of a game. Then again, perhaps that was what he was. Perhaps he was assuming too much by demanding that Dylan return the favour of giving everything away. Was he just being a big Dummkopf about all this?

A stern wave of pride stopped the thought in its tracks. Of course he wasn't overreacting. He had every right to know as much about Dylan as the boy knew about him. He wasn't being spoiled, nor was he being obsessive. He just wanted them to be on equal ground, and rightfully so.

He had a right to know.