"An' what's your name?"

"Savos..."

Burke scrawled the name on the paper-like scrap Galen had given him, and sent the man to the lab, where Galen, or Kira, or whoever, would take a blood sample for cross matching; he had given the ape a quick rundown of the procedure, as much as he had been able to remember it from his school days, because there was just no way the apes would allow him to do the testing. He was already getting suspicious glances because he was writing that list - it wasn't a skill humans were capable of anymore in this world.

"You," he stopped the next human in the corridor, "Dr. Kira wants to see you in the lab - she's doin' some tests, and she needs a bit of your blood for that. Your name?"

The man stared at him. "What does she want to do with my blood?"

Burke shrugged. "I didn't ask her," he lied. "'s not my place to do, an' it's not yours, either." Finally, a moment where invoking their lowly status came in handy. "I need to put your name on that list, buddy - the doctor wants to make sure she gets a sample from everyone."

The man stumbled back until he bumped into the wall; Burke was surprised by the frightened look on his face. "I done nothing wrong! I don' deserve that she puts a hex on me!"

"What the hell? The doc's a bit of a bi... I mean, she's strict, but she won't put a hex on you, or on anyone." Should've known that there would be some superstition around the blood; people were always so damn fascinated with their bodily fluids...

"I don' want her to put a hex on me," the man repeated, "make my blood go bad..."

Maybe this fool was the only human around who was a matching donor for Al. Burke grabbed his shirt and jerked him close until their faces almost touched. "You listen to me, buddy," he growled. "You're the doctor's guinea pig since the day she bought you from the pigsty you were born in; if she wants to screw your stupid head off and fill your gut with onions, then she damn well will, 'cause it's her right. You give me your name now, an' then you'll haul your sorry ass to the lab, an' Mothers help you if I find out you didn't show up!"

The man stuttered his name, and scrambled away when Burke let go of his shirt to write it down. He wished he could've escorted him personally - he had a feeling that this one could actually try to run - but he had only half of the humans on his list yet, and they were running out of time; he had to find where the others were right now... maybe they were hanging out in the stinkin' hole that went for their quarters-

A crash and a yell tore him out of his musings - a sound like breaking earthenware, and now the cries got louder and more desperate; the high voice of a child, or a woman...

Damn monkeys were slapping a kid around... Burke dropped the pen and raced towards the source of the noise, skidding on the floor as he rounded the last corner-

It was that girl, the one without a name, and it wasn't an ape that was slapping her around, it was a human.

A human ...

... shoving her into the wall so hard that Burke heard the girl's teeth rattle.

He wasn't even aware that he had moved; suddenly the guy's face was inches from his own, and his knuckles hurt from the impact of bone on bone. The other's head snapped back, but he didn't fall away from him, because

because Burke's other hand was fisted into the guy's shirt, and now his blows were raining hard and fast into his face, hand wet and warm with blood, knuckles splitting on the other's teeth, bathing in the torn flesh over the cheekbone and there was a crunching sound underneath the cries and the yelling

yelling his name

Something clamped around his arm like iron jaws, and pain exploded in the back of his skull as Burke's head connected with the wall behind him.

The far wall.

The shadow of an ape fell over him and Burke felt his lips peel back over his teeth in a silent snarl.

And then the ape bared its teeth, huge fangs gleaming in the pale light of the gas lamps, and it was as if one stared into the maw of the devil. Burke growled, a hoarse moan torn from his throat by atavistic fury and fear, and charged.

The vise clamped around him again, around his wrist, and the pain was so intense this time that his fingers went numb and he was powerless as they opened-

The knife clattered on the floor.

The knife. Burke stared at it, dumbfounded. When had he drawn the knife?

He had drawn a knife against an ape.

The realization slammed into him like a blow, forcing cold sweat from every pore of his body, shooting stomach acid into his throat. He raised fearful eyes to his conqueror's face-

Galen.

It had been Galen. Galen had snarled at him. Burke stared into his face, swaying on his feet in the ape's iron grip. Galen.

"Peet," Galen said, "kolm doun."

English. With a terrible, horrible accent, but...

Reality crashed into him like the surf; the corridor, the lamps, the sounds of the girl sobbing, the guy moaning, and his own, ragged breathing.

English. Galen had spoken English.

He had attacked Galen with his own fucking knife. In an ape clinic, in an ape city, on a fucking planet of apes.

Burke stared into Galen's eyes as if hypnotized, chest pumping, tremors traveling down his limbs in waves, as the adrenaline was draining from his body.

"He has a knife!"

They both turned their heads simultaneously towards the source of the outcry; Burke groaned inwardly at the sight of Travin, hovering over the bully he had beaten up like an avenging angel.

He pointed a shaking finger at Burke. "Humans mustn't carry knives! It's against the law! It brings out the devil in us!"

"I allowed him to carry it," Galen growled, and Burke had the distinct feeling that the growl was directed at him, because Galen had most certainly not allowed him to carry it - not into the city, and not into the clinic, and not in this corridor, in front of the humans. His gaze dropped to the floor.

I blew it big time.

"He attacked you with it," Travin insisted gleefully. "I saw it with my own eyes!"

Burke felt Galen's grip around his wrist tighten some more and fought not to wince; but Galen's voice was as cool and controlled as always. "I have trained this human as a bodyguard, as is custom in the Northern Mountains; I assure you, it did not attack me. Rather it perceived that human at your feet as a threat against me, and you can count yourself lucky that I stopped it in time. What was that noise about, anyway? Must you harass each other in the corridors, where apes need to concentrate on their work, and patients need quiet to rest and heal? Or was this some aborted mating ritual? Answer me!"

Travin's face reddened into a deep shade of purple. "Nobody mates with that girl. She's no one."

"Then what happened?" Galen demanded. His gaze dropped to the man at Travin's feet who had sat up and was holding his bloodied face with both hands. "What did you do to the girl?"

"She spilled the water," the man mumbled between his fingers.

"And that's why you were beating the daylights out of her?" Burke blurted out.

Galen turned his head and fixed him with an icy glare, and he snapped his mouth shut. Let the ape handle this.

"All of us must discipline the girl," Travin muttered. "We must keep the evil in her at bay, so that it doesn't spread among us."

"She's your daughter!" Burke didn't give a damn about Galen's newfound identity as master and commander.

Travin's stare went blank. "I have no daughter."

"What the f-"

"It seems your strategy hasn't worked very well," Galen cut him off. "Evil has already spread, when it's considered virtuous to beat up a child over spilled water." He nodded at the heap of misery at Travin's feet. "Take that man to your resting place. He is not fit for work."

"I'll tell the director about this," Travin vowed and bent down to pull the other man to his feet.

Galen let go of Burke's wrist and closed in to Travin. "You may do that - but be prepared to explain to your master why a man under your supervision attacked me in such a way that my human felt it necessary to step between us and defend me."

Travin's mouth opened to protest; then he took a step back and closed it again, dull resentment shining in his eyes. A human's word against an ape's was a foregone conclusion; and for a moment, Burke felt for the old man, and felt a burning rage against the unfairness of it, even if it was working in his favour for once.

As soon as Travin had hauled the bully around the corner, Galen whipped around, eyes ablaze with barely controlled fury. "Give me that list of yours." He folded the paper without looking at it. "I will collect the humans. You will go to the humans' quarters and stay there until I or Zana tell you otherwise. And Mothers, stay out of trouble while you're there!" He bent down to pick up the knife. "When this is over, we'll have to talk about your training. Humans are ruled by their instincts, it is true, but you weren't this out of control before. If you carry on like this, you'll get us all killed." His eyes bored into Burke's.

"Before I let that happen, I swear to the Mothers, I'll put you on a leash."

When he woke up, Burke was leaning at the tiny window, head pressed against the bars, a shadow amidst the shadows of his cell; Virdon turned his head and just watched him for a while, too exhausted and in pain to even speak.

His friend seemed to have sensed that he was conscious now, though, because Virdon saw him turn around and lean his back against the wall. "How you doin'?"

"Great."

"Uh-huh."

A companionable silence fell between them; they both knew that his time was coming to an end. It was strangely relieving not to have to pretend anymore, both for him and, he assumed, also for Pete. Relieving and liberating. A time to speak freely, and without fear.

"I really appreciate you being here, Pete," he said. "To... keep me company."

"Yeah, not really." Burke's voice was laced with wry amusement. "I got grounded."

"You needn't have told me that," Virdon joked weakly. "Leave me my illusions."

"Uh, if I got grounded, I wouldn't want to spend detention anywhere but with you, Al."

"Too late..."

His energy was draining away again. Time to get down to business, before he slipped back into fevered unconsciousness. "I'm having all kinds of weird dreams..."

Why was he stalling again?

"Yeah, no shit. I tried to shake you out of some of them - you were warning Chris about Urko... must've confused him with me." Now Pete's voice was halting; cautious. Urko's shadow was in the room with them, smiling in the darkness.

"I dreamed I was on that table," Virdon confessed hesitantly. "And that he... that I suffered what he did to you. It was... I'm..."

"Yeah, that wasn't a dream, I'm sorry to say, Al." Pete's voice was rough. "That doctor friend of Galen finally decided that she'll dig that bullet out, an' she decided that you had to be rehydrated before she puts you on the table. Said your pulse was too weak, an' too fast."

Virdon drew a confused blank. "What does that have..."

"See, they don't have IV tubes here, Al, an' you can't drink that much, an' you weren't really conscious anyway, so she said the fastest way for you body to absorb that saline solution stuff was from behind," Burke explained in a rush. "At least that's what Zana told me when I stumbled into your little get-together. Well, she told me afterwards, 'cause I left that scene in a hurry, I can tell ya that much!"

Even in the darkness, Virdon felt the blood climb into his face; suddenly, being punched out by a fever didn't seem to be such a bad thing. "I could've lived without that information, Pete."

"I can tell you that Zana was a lot more careful than Urko was with me."

I could've lived without that information, too. But apparently, Pete had sensed, too, that this was their last opportunity to say what was on their mind... or their conscience.

"I want you to take this." He fumbled for the disc around his neck.

"Take what?" Pete hadn't moved from his place under the window. His face was invisible in the darkness, but his voice was wary.

"The disc..." - "No way. That thing is yours."

"Hear me out..."

"No!" The shadow pushed away from the wall, and Virdon felt Burke's weight settle on the cot. "I'm not gonna carry that dream for you, Al - if you want that thing to reach ANSA, you'll get up from that operation table later, and walk all the way home to give it to them yourself!"

"This disc is more important than my dream." His eyes were closing all on their own now, and that terrible weariness made his next words slurred. "The information needs to reach them... they must know... they must prevent it..."

And then he was drifting again, drifting away into another dream, one in which he was back on the Icarus, arguing with Jones over the intercom about Burke's release, because Burke was in the engine control room with Urko, and he couldn't open the doors, because Jones had locked all the doors on the ship...

You can't prevent it, Jones said. You've been too slow, Alan. Chris' screams were far away now, and Virdon was stumbling through a maze of corridors, faded letters announcing ancient subway stations. This has already happened, Jones commented over the intercom, we've all been dead for a thousand years, Al. There's no going back up the rabbithole.

The wormhole caught up with him and he dissolved into blackness.

Burke made it outside in time.

He hadn't eaten since morning, and the thin gruel the humans had for breakfast had left his stomach a long time ago, and that made the whole business more painful; his stomach cramped up again and again, forcing acid and bile through his throat in pressed moans that he couldn't suppress.

Cool, clammy hands had grabbed his shoulders at some point during his bout of nausea; they were too small and too light on his skin to be really steadying, but they were calming all the same, gave him something outside himself to focus on. Burke had half feared that the cramps would trigger another panic attack, that his body would take the violent jerks tugging at his midsection as a cue that it was on high alert, and that therefore, there had to be a reason for alarm, but when the retching finally subsided, he just felt wrung out and miserable.

He turned away from the mess with an exhausted moan. The hands reappeared in his field of vision, offering him a mug. It was water, he discovered when he accepted it; Burke swished his mouth and drank a sip or two, careful not to trigger his upset stomach again.

Damn the colonel. The man could knock you over without even leaving the bed.

Burke breathed a deep sigh and took another sip from the mug. When he held out his hand to give it back, he finally looked up, unsurprised to find that the clammy hands belonged to the nameless girl. The one who he had almost killed for not an hour ago.

Yeah, well, that wasn't exactly true. He had almost killed the guy for himself. Not for her. Burke was honest enough to admit to himself that it had simply felt good to let loose... to finally have a target for all the pent-up fear and rage that were festering in him.

"Thanks for the water." His voice was hoarse, roughed up from the stomach acid, and from all the growling and yelling during his caveman fight with her bully. "How'd you find me?"

The girl just shrugged and made to turn away.

"Wait! Hey! Please?"

Her steps faltered; she turned back to him, slowly, hesitantly, as if she was debating with herself, and Burke smiled a little ironic smile. She'd probably been warned not to come near him anymore. "C'mon, you don't wanna go back in there - the beer tastes like piss, and the band is shit."

He saw her frown in the pale light of the stars, puzzling over his words, but she didn't seem to be on the verge of leaving anymore; she hugged her arms around her pitcher and silently contemplated him.

For a moment, they both listened to the silence, the light swishing of a breeze in the grass, and the distant cacophony of frogs in the swamps. Then Burke struggled to his feet. "Thank you for the water." He ambled in her general direction, not directly at her, passing her by a few feet away. "Let's walk a few steps, huh? I made such a stinkin' mess in that corner..." He walked on without looking at her, and smiled a little when the rustle of her skirt told him that she had joined him.

They didn't walk far, just a few steps, as he had promised her, and settled down in the dry grass at the wall of the humans' housing. Burke folded his hands around one knee, the other leg stretched out on the sun-warmed gravel, and laid his head into his neck to stare up into the night sky. Beside him, the girl had hugged both knees against her chest, and was staring up into the sky, too.

Burke could feel the tension flow out of him in slow, lazy waves - into the ground, into the wall in his back, into the amazingly bright glitter thrown across the indigo sky above him. He didn't feel anything, no rage, no fear, no grief, and that was excellent, and he wished he could stay that empty for the rest of his days. It was so... peaceful.

"You shouldn't let them push you around like that," he murmured, his gaze still fixed at the sky. "Tell the apes... tell them to sell you off if they don't want to stop this shit."

He tore his gaze away from the stars above him to look at her when she didn't answer. She was still staring upwards, her pale hair shimmering faintly in the starlight.

Burke had learned by now that humans with that color were rare and sought after by certain apes. Maybe his suggestion wasn't that bright. Maybe being beaten up was still better than being forced to bear children that she would lose as soon as they were weaned off, to make big money for her owner. "Ah, forget it." He leaned his head back against the wall with a thud.

"Thank you for helping me." It was just a whisper, but Burke was pretty sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Don' mention it. Jus' - don't jus' take it, y'know? Don't let them sell you this shit that you deserve it somehow. Nobody deserves that." A thought struck him. "What's your name, really?"

He saw her furiously chew her lip. "Come on," he prodded, "we're alone, an' I won't tell. Scout's honor!"

"Arna..."

"Arna," he repeated, because she needed to hear her name being spoken by someone else, "that's a really nice name. Your mom had taste, you can tell her that from me."

"My mother is dead." She was plucking at the grass, not looking at him.

Dead mom, shitty dad - yeah, he could relate to that. "Look, princess... Arna, don't let people tell you that you're evil, or that you don't have a name. Your mom gave you that name, an' that means nobody else has a right to decide if you can keep it or not, you understand me?"

Arna nodded. "They won't say my name," she whispered.

"Doesn't make a difference. You know that it's still yours, okay? That's what matters." He awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Don't let people mess with your head."

The girl nodded and stood, slipping away from his hand. "You're nice, Peet. Don't let my... don't let Travin make you angry."

Burke smiled tiredly. "I'll try not to. - Hey." He waited until she had turned around once more. "You know, my friend in there? He's... he's very ill." He waited, again, but she just stood there, her face in the shadows.

He stood, too, then, slowly and clumsily like an old man, and leaned against the wall behind him, all casual. "That doctor Kira is going to dig out the bullet in his body later tonight. She's doing a test right now, and... and we need a bit of blood from everyone."

Arna stumbled back a step, clutching her pitcher. She frantically shook her head. "No! No, my blood is bad! It's cursed!"

Burke didn't move; the girl was ready to bolt. "I don't believe that. That's just some shit the others told you. Remember what I just said, about not letting others mess with your head?"

His words didn't have any effect; Arna was taking another step back. If he didn't reach her now, she would run. "Anyway, even if it was cursed, your curses don't work on the apes, right? Or can you curse Dr. Leander with your blood?"

That one made her think - Burke tore his lip through his teeth to hide his grin. "Never tried that? Damn, that would be a really neat trick - bet the others would be nice to you, if you could do them favours like that, huh?"

He saw the girl shrug and went in for the kill. "So, your blood is harmless for the doctor - so you can go over to the lab and let Dr. Kova take a bit, for the experiment, right?"

She stood there for a long moment, not moving a muscle, and Burke looked over her shoulder and chewed on the inside of his lip, and waited for her to sort through the lies and the truths of her world.

Finally, she nodded. "I think so... what you said sounds right..."

"'Cause it is," he said firmly. "Do you trust me?"

This time, she nodded instantly.

"That's... that's good," Burke said gently, surprised at the glowing sensation her words had woken in his chest. "So, go! They're almost done over there." He watched her hurry across the dark courtyard, slowly sliding down the wall until he was sitting on his haunches again.

He was so. Tired. But the thought of going back into the cramped, stinking hole that the humans around here called their home made his skin crawl. Maybe he could camp out here, under the open sky. He had missed the sky... almost more than anything else...

The stars were so much brighter here, without all the light pollution - and the other pollution. They seemed to pulsate, to expand, and then, as Burke knew it would, if he could stare at it long enough without blinking, the whole sky seemed to drift down to him, come closer and closer, and if he could keep his eyes open long enough, it would engulf him... at least that was what his mom had told him back then, when he was little.

But he had never managed not to blink before that moment. Maybe that was why he had become an astronaut.

This is where we're meant to be, Al, he thought, up there, among the stars. Not on this shitty, god-forsaken planet. Not on any planet. We weren't born to be the lab rats, pets, farm animals, or scapegoats for the damn monkeys. We were kings once. We were warriors.

The night was breathing all around him, listening.

The laboratory was tiny, and Zana silently wondered why Galen had called her here to help him - it seemed to her that they were hampering each other instead. They constantly brushed against each other in the cramped space, or had to ask the other to hand over a glass slide, or the rack with the collected blood samples, because they couldn't even pass each other to reach those things themselves in the narrow aisle between the wooden counters.

Somehow, Zana had ended up at the spinner, cranking the wheel so that the horizontal carousel at the top whirled the glass tubes around; the motion caused the blood to separate into red matter and a yellow liquid, in which the red stuff was usually suspended. Zana hadn't known before that blood was anything else but a uniform red liquid, and under different circumstances, would have found the whole procedure fascinating; but the spinner stood at the far end of the chamber, which meant that Galen was between her and the door, operating the microscope and effectively blocking her escape. Not that she wanted to escape anything, but it did feel a bit claustrophobic.

For all their close proximity, Galen seemed strangely distant, barely speaking a word except for what was needed to complete the tests. Well, they had to work fast, to get results before the samples clotted in their tubes, Zana reasoned, and he had to be terribly tired after spending the whole day in the City to... do what, exactly?

"So, did you get whatever it was that is meant to help Alan?" she asked, while she fitted the next set of tubes into the notches of the top wheel of the spinner.

"We did." Galen didn't even lift his head to look at her; he stared through the brass tube of the microscope, as if he was watching the most interesting things in it.

Zana suppressed a sigh. "And what was it that you had to risk your lives for?"

Galen made a note on the paper beside him, and dragged the glass slide with his thumb to the edge of the small platform. He lifted it off and set it aside with utmost care before he answered. "Peet had found a book on surgery - surgery on humans, and he thought that it might convince Kira to operate on Alan. And he was right. Kira was pretty excited about the book."

Zana stared at her hand that turned the spinner's handle; she had to make sure that she kept the correct speed - Galen had explained that it was different for blood than for urine - and a steady pace.

It wouldn't do if her annoyance inadvertently accelerated the damn thing.

"Where in the world would Peet have had the opportunity to find a book on human surgery?" Then it dawned on her. "Zaius' collection - Mothers, you two didn't break into the Council House again?" She dared to tear her eyes away from the handle to stare at her fiancé, who returned her gaze, unimpressed.

"No, that wasn't necessary - Zaius has transferred his treasures into his own home, away from nosy assistants." A tiny smile tugged at Galen's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "As luck would have it, we even secured an official invitation to his abode, although the Eldest couldn't be there himself, to his utmost regret." He tersely recounted his and Peet's encounter with Zaius' guards, and Zana found herself strangely shy to interrupt, or to scold him for their mad heist. There was a guarded tension in his limbs and around his eyes; he suddenly reminded her of Alan, somehow.

She averted her eyes and fixed her gaze at the handle again. "Why does Zaius need a personal guard all of a sudden?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw Galen put another glass slide on the microscope's table and secure it with its metal clamps. "I dare say that that was Urko's decision. Apparently, the Eldest just barely escaped an assassination... with rotten fruit."

Zana snorted, but Galen didn't join her laughter. "Urko has Zibaya and some others arrested," he muttered. "This could end badly."

"Good thing I didn't take your parents up on their offer to stay with them, then," Zana remarked. She stopped the handle and took out the first of the glass tubes. "I doubt that even your father could protect me from that Gorilla anymore. I'm safer with you than with them." She threw a quick smile at him, but he was already staring through the microscope again.

"I suppose so," he murmured after a long moment. "I'm glad that you trust me so much in that regard."

Zana blinked, pipet frozen in mid-air. "Why wouldn't I trust you?"

Galen made another note. "This one isn't compatible, either. How many samples do we have left, Zana?"

"... six." Apprehension climbed into her chest, a cold, clammy feeling that slowly spread into her arms, like mould. "Is something wrong, dear?"

Galen started with a sharp inhale, as if shaken from deep concentration. "No. No, of course not. It was, it was a long day. I had to tear Peet away from another human. He was attacking it so ferociously, I thought he was going to kill it."

Now it was Zana's turn to hiss in alarm. Peet had been on edge ever since he had regained consciousness, but time didn't seem to make things better, on the contrary. "But you did get there in time!"

"I did," Galen said darkly. " This time. What about next time? And what if he then attacks- not a human, but an ape? He could not only get himself killed, but the rest of us, too." He leaned back in his chair and frowned at her. "It pains me to say, but Peet has become dangerous. He has lost control over his reactions, and, and we can't trust him right now. He can't trust himself right now. He's unpredictable."

She needed to draw the yellow liquid into the pipet, Zana reminded herself. She needed a steady hand right now, a steady breath. Nothing would be decided about Peet without her consent.

Nothing.

"So what are you suggesting?" she asked, after she had placed a few drops of the liquid on one of the glass slides. "That we muzzle him and put him on a leash?" She flicked him a sharp glance, when he didn't answer. "You can't be serious! After all he's gone through..."

"Exactly," Galen said, still in that calm, sensible voice. "After all he has suffered under Urko, he now regards apes as dangerous. His instinct tells him to attack. And attack he will, Zana, and in the most disastrous moment possible. This is for his own protection! What do you think the prefects will do to him after such an incident?"

Now she had to mix the yellow liquid with the red stuff from one of the other glass tubes. And she had to pay attention to the labels, so that they didn't confuse whose blood components they had mixed. She had to focus.

"If we do this," she said finally, and handed Galen the prepared slide, "Peet will never trust us again. And that means we'll have to gag and bind him for the rest of our lives, however long they will be. Then I'll be just another pet owner... that is not what I gave up my former life for."

Galen looked at her strangely. "What did you get your former life up for?"

She couldn't read his expression, but it made her breath catch in her throat. "For... for doing the right thing," she stammered.

"The right thing," Galen repeated slowly. Then he turned to gaze into the microscope again, and Zana turned away to mix another pair of red and yellow, only her hands trembled ever so slightly and made it difficult to dip the pipet into the glass tube.

"Humans are people, you know that they are, Galen," she said after a long moment of silence; she felt sad, without knowing why. "They aren't ape-people, they're human-people, and they're different from us, but they do have... have... grace." Mothers, what an awkward word to use. But she couldn't think of a better one.

"I can't deny that Peet moved quite gracefully in for the kill," Galen said dryly, his gaze still fixed on the eyepiece.

"That's not what I mean," Zana said, annoyed. "I won't violate his dignity, and I won't allow anyone to do that to him, either."

"Peet can count himself lucky to have such a determined protector in you," Galen said evenly. "You've obviously given a lot of thought to the subject of a person's dignity." He reached for the next slide, and Zana handed it to him with a frown.

"Obviously I have, yes," she said. "I've worked with humans for years, and I couldn't help but notice- are you mocking me? You sound like Kira all of a sudden!"

"I'm not mocking you." Galen inserted the slide and bent down over the microscope once again. "But what this comes down to in the end is a question of trust, not of dignity. Do you trust Peet with your life? With all our lives? When you can't properly train him, while we're on the road? You know how dangerous our life is right now - you need to choose wisely who to trust."

The question hung in the air, while she stared at her fiancé who pretended not to notice.

"Yes," she said finally, "I do trust Peet. And you should, too."

"I'm glad you trust... trust Peet, even in his current state of mind." Galen pushed away from the microscope. "Also, we have a compatible match. Two compatible matches, even." He stood and turned towards the door. "You tell Kira that she can send for Alan," he said over his shoulder, "I'll go find the two humans who can give him blood." With that, he was out of the door.

Zana stared after him. Whatever had happened with Peet and that other human had shaken Galen badly. He was right - Peet's current emotional state made him unpredictable; but she would decide how they'd deal with that. And she'd also take the blame for the results. It seemed to her that Galen was already laying the blame at her feet, anyway.

She couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just about Peet.

Listening to the frogs in the swamps was almost hypnotic... as long as he carefully avoided thinking about the last incident where he had heard that word. Burke listened to the monotonous croaking that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, a tapestry of sound that was slowly cloaking his mind, drowning out all thought, letting him drift deeper-

He jerked up, heart racing.

And let his head drop against the wall with a groan. It was always like this now - dozing off a dozen times or more and startling awake again, until exhaustion finally tackled him and threw him into unconsciousness.

Damn monkeys had trained him well in that cage. Burke shivered as he remembered how one of them had shoved a hot splint up his nose when he had nodded off. He had learned to keep alert to them approaching, the sneaky bastards, and now it had become so ingrained that he couldn't turn it off anymore.

At least it made him aware of the ape approaching him now, before his instincts could throw him into another clusterfuck reaction. It helped that the ape made no attempt to hide his presence; his boots were crunching on the gravel as he strode towards him.

It was Galen. He stopped no three feet away and gazed down at him for a moment. Burke returned the gaze with a blank stare. He was too exhausted to be surprised, or wary.

"Are you sleeping out here?" Galen finally asked.

Burke rubbed his face. "Trying to. I don't think they want me in there. And it stinks. And I... never mind." And I can't stand being in a cage anymore, but that was something he couldn't bring himself to confess to the ape. Bad enough that it had been Galen who had seen him breaking down earlier.

Twice.

If the chimp was following his train of thought, he didn't show it. "We found two matching donors."

Burke scrambled to his feet. "You did? That's... that's fantastic!" Virdon's blood type was 0 negative, something that should've made him ineligible for deep space missions, if Burke would've had anything to say. He had hoped that they'd find at least one human among the two dozen or so that the apes were keeping here, but statistics couldn't make predictions for any specific case. But... two! They had two matching donors!

For the first time since that cursed river crossing, he dared to hope that things would turn out okay. That Al... He took a deep breath. "So, can we start? Should I get Al?"

"You need to get me that human first."

Burke blinked. "'That human'? I thought you said you had two..."

Galen sighed. "The other human is nowhere to be found. I hope it's not the one you attacked."

Burke rubbed his face again, out of exhaustion, and embarrassment. "You've got their name?"

"Tomeh."

"Ah, no. That's not the one I... uh. I remember Tomeh, he was afraid that your doctor friend would use his blood sample to put a hex on him."

"Superstitious humans," Galen muttered.

"Yeah, well, it was your decision to keep them poor an' ignorant. Don't complain about the results." He was too tired to feel upset anymore, but he couldn't let it slide, that casual contempt. Galen treated him and Al alright, but that courtesy apparently didn't extend to his own world's humans.

Galen ignored his remark. "I sent Travin, but he reported that he couldn't find Tomeh. Nobody has seen him since the last feeding, either. He may have run away."

Burke cursed under his breath. While the guy wouldn't get far before the police would collect him, Al didn't have the luxury to wait that long, and besides, they'd have the damn police underfoot! "Who's the other one?"

"The girl that you... protected."

"Her name's Arna."

Galen turned his palm upward as if to say, damned if I care. "For whatever reason, Travin has declared the girl taboo, so I can't expect him to, well, to 'find' her."

"I'll get her." Burke pushed away from the wall and turned to leave. He had no friggin' idea where a bullied girl might hide, so he'd just do a systematic sweep of the clinic grounds.

"Take her directly to the operating room," Galen advised him. "We will prepare Alan in the meantime. We need you there in any case - you'll have to read the instructions to Kira."

Burke found her at the well, scooping water. "Don't you ever sleep?" It had to be way past midnight by his estimation - the apes used clocks, but he couldn't read them, any more than he could read their script.

Arna shrugged and began to turn the crank. "I like this time - it's so quiet."

Nobody awake to shove her around, Burke translated silently. "Yeah, I like it, too. But you shouldn't work then - enjoy the peace and quiet, y'know? Find a nice spot to watch the stars." He grabbed the full bucket that had floated up to them, and put it on the top of the brick wall. "I'm glad I found you here, though... remember my friend? Told you he had a bullet in his hip."

Arna nodded and eyed the bucket. Burke casually draped his arm over it.

"Dr. Kira is gonna operate on him now. They're carrying him over to the operation room."

"I hope everything goes well for him," Arna said shyly.

"It will." He forced a determination into his voice that he didn't really feel. "Ga- Dr. Kova says she's the best surgeon he ever met, an'... just in case something should happen... they've come up with this new treatment." He chewed on the inside of his lip. Arna was watching him warily. He had to tread carefully now. These people were totally crazy when it came to their blood.

"They did this lab experiment I told you about, an'... they found someone who could give a bit of their blood to Al, if he loses too much of his own." He broke off when Arna began to shake her head and backed away. "Look, just a bit - it's completely safe..."

"No! No! You can't take my blood!" There was a shrill note of hysteria in the girl's voice. She was on the verge of tears. "It's cursed! It's evil!"

"No it's not! I told you that's bullshit! You aren't evil, you're the nicest girl I've met in a long time!" Burke quickly crossed the short distance between them and grabbed her by the shoulders - not hard, just firm enough that she wouldn't race off into the darkness like that fool Tomeh had.

His touch was the last straw for her. She started to struggle in his grip, crying for real now. "Let me go! Let me go, please!"

He couldn't let her go. She was Al's last chance. "Arna, calm down. I swear, it won't harm you!"

"You don't understand! I don't care what happens to me!" Arna screamed, still throwing herself against his grip like a bird against the bars of its cage, frantic to escape. "My blood, it kills! I don't want to kill your friend! Not again, not again, not again..."

And then she crumpled in his arms, breaking down like Al had when he was shot, and all Burke could do was to sink down to the ground with her, cradling her in his arms and holding her against his chest as she was shaking in the grip of an agony he didn't understand. He held her, stunned, rubbing her back while she fisted his shirt and poured out an eternity of grief and pain, in the desperate cries of a dying animal.

"Jesus Christ, girl," he murmured into her hair when her throat became too raw to scream, when he felt exhaustion sweep over her like a warm gust, loosening her fists. She was leaning against him, limp and heavy, her face still buried in his damp shirt. He kept rubbing her back in slow strokes, up and down. "They really did a number on you."

"She's a murderer!"

They both flinched at the voice, and Burke felt the adrenaline pour into his veins like acid, bright and cold and humming with deadly promise. He raised his head.

Travin was looming over them, a bitter scent in the night. "Tell him."

Arna moaned, a pitiful little sound in his shirt. "No... please!"

"Tell him!"

Burke could feel new moisture soaking his shirt. Arna was crying silently now, and it broke his heart. "You don't have to tell me anything," He murmured into her ear, "but if you do, I promise I won't judge. I've done pretty stupid things myself."

"I... I killed my brother," her voice was small, miserable.

"He was sixteen." Travin's voice was full of pain now, pain and wrath. "My only son."

Burke looked at him, back on Arna's head, her face still buried in his shirt, back at Travin. "What happened?"

The girl didn't answer. "He was out hunting with Director Leander." Travin answered for her. Burke saw his fists clench and unclench. "There was an accident. When they returned to the clinic with him, he was already unconscious. He had... he had lost too much blood."

He paused, and Burke could hear his heavy breaths in the darkness. Maybe he was crying, too. "The doctors were doing experiments back then, with, with taking blood from one animal and giving it to another. I told them they could use my son in the experiment." The words came faster now, as if Travin, too, had waited a long time to tell this story. "He was dying! I didn't put his life in danger, this was a way to save him!"

"But something went wrong," Burke prompted, when the silence stretched. "You said he died."

"They took her blood," Travin pointed an accusing finger at Arna. "Because she was his sister. Because she was family. And at first, all went well, and he even woke up and talked to me. But when they gave him her blood the second time, he cried out in agony! Said it was like fire in his veins! Then he... he cramped. And, and couldn't stop. The doctors sent me away then." Burke heard him take a shuddering breath. "And when they allowed me to come back in, my boy was dead. He was dead. She killed him, with her evil blood!"

"It wasn't her fault," Burke said, his arms tightening reflexively around the girl. "Humans have different... types of blood, like, like different kinds of drinks? Some don't get along well with others, like when you mix beer and wine, and others are perfect for each other, like vodka and, uh... oper juice."

He felt Arna's breath calm down; she was listening to him, at least. The same couldn't be said for Travin. "Are you saying I killed my son? I was trying to save him! She killed him with her bad blood, and she'll kill your friend, too!"

You don't give a damn if Al lives or dies. Then it hit him. "You're not worried she'll kill him - you're worried he'll live. 'Cause that would throw your little theory right out of the window, an' then what? Maybe you made the wrong decision back then. Maybe it's not her fault at all, but damn, it was so convenient to blame her, right?"

"I tried to save him! He was dying, there was no other way!" Burke was sure that Travin was crying now, and yeah, he could understand the old man's grief. But he couldn't let him take it out on the girl any longer. This had to stop.

"You don't know that, and that's what's eating you up inside. You can't stop wondering if you didn't kill him, in the end." He chased away the memory of Remo, beaming with pride for his 'windy-mill'. He wouldn't think of Vanda now... Burke drew a deep breath and continued. "So you made up this story about a curse, an' told it everyone until they believed it, and until you believed it yourself. Because that's easier than to believe that you are his murderer."

"No!" Travin made a step towards them, fists raised, and Burke came to his feet in one fluid motion, drawing Arna up with him. Travin stopped, chest heaving. "No, it's not true, he's lying! If you give your blood to that stranger, you'll spread the curse! You'll kill his friend, and then he'll kill you!"

Arna turned around, slowly, as if dazed; and then Burke felt her leaning back into him, like he had leaned against the wall earlier, seeking support. "I wouldn't care." Her voice was quiet. "I've been dead for a long time."

Travin went utterly still. For a long moment, father and daughter regarded each other silently.

Then he stalked away into the night.

Burke felt the girl take a shaky breath. He rubbed her arms. "That was a great comeback, hit him right between the eyes. But you're not dead, okay? And I'm not gonna hurt you, no matter what happens to Al. It won't be your fault, understood?"

She nodded.

Then she took his hand.

"I'm ready."