The P-64C Ferret, its once bright white paint now nearly gray with age and exposure to atmospheric elements and cosmic rays, streaked over the landscape at 250kps. A relatively slow velocity for spaceflight, the Ferret's normal cruising speed meant the landscape was no more than a blur of greens and browns.

Inside the cockpit, Casey Ripkus found herself immersed in near-absolute boredom. To combat the feeling, she shoved the throttle forward. Instantaneously, the blue-flamed exhaust from the Ferret's single engine became infused with whites, reds, and oranges. As the flame intensified, the Ferret accelerated to 1200kps and shot forward, becoming a blur of its own.

Casey joined the RASG over a year prior as a member of the 209th Kestrels Long-Range Reconnaissance & Early Warning Squadron (VR-209). She'd been involved in one of the squadron's initial missions and took part in its first intercept involving the Star Dragon owned by local businesswoman Azjah von Drachen Walde. An ex-combat pilot like most of her comrades in the RASG, Casey found it difficult to reconcile peacetime operations with her love of flying. Not that she wanted a return to the years-long bloody war that had cost the Confederation so much in materials and life, but she preferred more excitement than the RASG's operations typically offered. She often thought about taking an InSystem Security job, or perhaps entering a privateering career, but she had yet to make an effort toward change. Life here was comfortable and most days, she could deal with the boredom as long as she got the chance to fly.

Today, she'd volunteered to take on an extra sortie for a sick friend in the 301st Firebees Atmospheric Defense Squadron. She didn't get much chance to practice atmospheric flying, which was vastly different than guiding a fighter through the vacuum of space and differences meant a little less boredom, or so she hoped. Atmosphere meant she had to worry about altitude. Pitch and yaw rates mattered. And she moved faster than anything else on the ground or in the sky, especially at her current rate of speed which had by now taken her far over the ocean.

"One-oh-four, this is SWACS zero-two-niner," a male voice and corresponding static crackled in her helmet. The eye in the sky had caught her mid-joyride.

"Roger that, SWACS, this is one-oh-four. Go ahead, over." She hoped the communications officer didn't hear her suppressing a yawn.

"One-oh-four, you're way off mission. What's going on town there" Over."

"Sorry about that. I'm subbing in for Cypers today. I forget how much ground you cover in no time at all down here". So she was lying through her teeth. What did it matter, anyhow" It's not like she was overlooking anything important, like the migration habits of whatever fish were plowing through the dark blue waters.

"One-oh-four, you're being redirected. R and I wants some atmospheric and oceanic readings from down there and up here. You're carrying the B&S Eighty-Eight Omni on board, so you should be able to get what they need. Proceed to quadrant eight-nine-two and run parallel-track scans. Once you've done that, get space-borne and run through the nav-points we're about to give you. You can hand over the data at the debrief. Please acknowledge, over. "

Casey resisted the pressing urge to give a smartass reply as the SWACS officer tapped into and automatically updated her NAV computer. Atmospheric and oceanic readings. What would they ask her to do next, report on the number of cows in some farmer's field"

"Roger SWACS," she grunted in reply. "Nav-data received, I'm rerouting now. Out."

Sliding the throttle back, Casey cut her speed by two-thirds and nudged the Ferret into a lazy left bank. She squinted as sunlight glanced off the cockpit glass and flipped down the visor on her helmet to eliminate the glare. On the bright side, she thought, her new marching orders would give her some more time in the cockpit, even if she was performing what she considered a relatively meaningless exercise.

"All right, radar," she muttered, activating the Omni interface on her HUD, "time to earn your keep.?

BREATHE.

Koy shot up in bed gasping for air. Her damp curls clung to her forehead and cheeks. "Another nightmare?" The muffled question came from her barely conscious husband. Koy's troubled dreams had been a constant throughout her pregnancy with Thia. Six months later Koy and Matt's infant daughter slept peacefully in the adjoining room. Thia often slept through the night better than Koy did.

"Jest lettin" my work worries bleed over inta the dream world." Koy took a deep breath and settled back down against the pillows. She could not hide the fact that she had nightmares from Matt but she avoided sharing the details.

Knowing that words did less to comfort Koy than actions Matt turned over and pulled her in close so she could tuck herself into the safety of his arms. He kissed the back of her head and held her until she finally fell back asleep.

*****

That may have been one of your more horrific visions yet.

I thought so too.

The flesh tearing was a nice touch. You never will get tired of torturing her so, will you?

We all have our own amusements, brother. She does scare so easily. You're not feeling sorry for your little elf are you?

Of course not. I simply do not see the point anymore in these games.

It's more than a game, MoonBeryl. I consider it fair warning.

"Oh come on! Again?"

Casey Ripkus resisted the compelling urge to stamp her feet.

Her male companion merely shrugged as they walked along a grass-covered knoll overlooking an old-style tarmac at Star's End.

"I don't get it either, Casey. The eggheads say they need more data. Whatever you've been collecting up there has them running around like rats in a maze."

Casey glanced at her squad-mate. Like most pilots, he was short in stature, standing five-foot-four with his boots on. Casey tried not to smile " the best word to describe Miles Jaffey was "round". His face was round, his brown eyes were round, his nose was round, and his body, including his belly, was round. Even his graying hair curled in round ringlets. Miles wasn't overweight, nor was he in the best shape of his life. Casey could run circles around him if it came down to a footrace.

Scuffing the manicured grass with the toe of her right foot, Casey sighed and waited until a pair of low-flying RASG patrol fighters flew past the tarmac, before replying.

"But why me" I've run at least nine of these ridiculous scans in the last few days. Why can't they let somebody else do it?"

"Ask Chase if you really want to know," he said, referring to Chaucer W. Jones, commander of the 209th Kestrels. But that radar in your Ferret is one of the best we've got for this kind of work, and apparently it's coming up with details the rest of us aren't able to glean. I've heard a rumor that a shipment of more advanced radar's on its way planetside for some of us to install, but until then, you're the best we've got."

Casey grunted.

"I'll go up with you, if you want," Miles offered. "I just had a few upgrades installed and it'll give me a chance to test "em out".

"Sounds good to me," she replied. Least I'll have someone to talk to besides the SWACS comms officer.

Taking a final look over the tarmac, where a private civilian shuttle was slowly taxiing into position for takeoff, the pair left the knoll and headed for the main hub of Star's End.

Sandcastle Delusions

I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. —T.S. Eliot

She felt like she was sleeping with her eyes open.

Koy was no stranger to having a hectic schedule fueled on little sleep. In truth she not only thrived on overexerting herself but often she pushed even when she had the option to take it easy. When the ache of missing Lirisa throbbed from the inside-out, when Matt's disappearance had squeezed what little faith remained, Koy dove head first into every and any activity she could find to fill the hours. But this was different. She felt drained.

It went beyond the demands on her time and attention. She could juggle the needs of her business partner, her clients, her husband, her daughter, her brother and her friends. A life full of such personal riches should have been a cause to rejoice. For Koy though, it gave her more reason to fear.

It was only a matter of time before she would lose it all again. For each day she made it through unscathed Koy could only stand tense assured that tomorrow held an even lower bottom for her to hit. Having no future was one thing " standing on pins and needles waiting for a doomed one proved exhausting to her spirit. It didn't help that she found no escape or solace in the dream world.

She had started seeking out more nooks and crannies in her day to disappear for a few minutes and recharge since sleep no longer gave her any comfort. A bench near the duck pond in New Haven's Mercer Park was her most recent refuge of choice. Time slowed down there and Koy could fool herself into believing that the world's most difficult decisions came down to what type of sandwich to pack in a picnic basket. She liked watching the people more than the birds. She liked the way they laughed and enjoyed the sunshine without a second thought. Happiness did not frighten them. They were unburdened and free.

Her favorite sighting was a young couple with two small children. Today treated Koy to a show of the father teaching his son the joys and heartbreak of flying a kite (heavy on the joy, light on the heartbreak). The mother chased after her daughter as the toddler took bumbling steps towards an unsuspecting flock of ducks with two pudgy hands out in hopes of catching one. The girl giggled when her mother scooped her up from behind and spun her around once.

Koy tried to stay focused on the gaiety of the scene. Her mind wanted to travel down darker roads with lonely names. The girl's hurried steps reminded her of the last milestone she had watched Lirisa experience. Koy didn't have firsthand knowledge of anything beyond that. No chance to hear her daughter speak a sentence or to teach her how to climb a tree. She knew nothing about potty training or teenage rebellion. Where there should have been a lifetime to love and to grow Koy instead had her heart stripped down and left tattered. She struggled every day to see that there was anything beyond that possible in her future.

"Do you ever tire of worrying so' I know it exhausts me to hear it." MoonBeryl's honey-dripped voice trickled through her bleak thoughts, an odd and not entirely unwelcomed roadblock.

"I tire more 'very day. Ye know no one asked ye ta hear it." Her response flat and not spoken out loud but deep down Koy felt that sudden relief she got whenever she knew the opal still offered his counsel.

"Most days I wish I could not hear it myself. But it does make one wonder."

"Wonder wha?"

"Wonder if the future that comes to you will be nothing more than self-fulfilling prophecy."

"The only hand I have in it all is bein" born under the wrong set of stars, bub." She often asked herself the same thing and could only arrive at the same conclusion: she was made for suffering. She could and did fight against it but the end would be the same. She would be alone. It was selfish and weak on her part that she gave in to the happiness stemming from the life she now shared with Matt. She was only building castles in the sand and this life too would be washed away. She did not know the when and the how but of one thing she felt certain"when the tide went out she would be left standing on the shore by herself.

"If you are destined for such misery what pray tell do you call all the joys in your life these days?" Even in its soothing nature MoonBeryl's voice held more contempt than concern when posing the question.

Koy took one last look at the little family by the duck pond and sighed. She stood up from the bench and turned her back to them on her exit from the park. "It's jest a temporary reprieve.?

The wind picked up; a sudden gust of air blew the kite into a tree and left it tangled up in its branches. The small boy cried as his father struggled unsuccessfully to rescue it.

Demons of Our Own Design

And I'm trying to understand myself And pinpoint where I am By the time I've got things figured out I've changed the whole damn plan Oh noose tied myself in, tied myself too tight Talking sh*t about a pretty sunset Blanketing options that I'll probably regret soon -Modest Mouse

The boy must have started school, Koy thought to herself when she passed the Mercer family on a stroll around the duck pond. She had yet to actually speak to any of the members of the family she saw almost daily but that hadn't stopped her from naming them after the park they shared. In the elf's mind the tall father with the hair that was never quite short enough to stay completely out of his eyes she called Jim. His youthful wife with the easy laugh Koy thought looked like a Jules. When she didn't mentally refer to the young children as simply "the boy' and "the girl" she imagined they could pass for a Jake and a Jenny. As the leaves started changing color Koy had seen more of Jim and Jules walking Jenny in her stroller but Jake sightings had been few and far between. It only dawned on her now that he must have been old enough to attend school during the day.

Bundled up in her fall coat, Jenny slept soundly when Jim and Jules passed Koy on the park path. The couple nodded to her and she smiled back. She both loved and envied them at the same time.

"You act as if you do not have ample opportunity to take part in such simple pleasures yourself."

Koy managed to control her expression so as not to grimace at MoonBeryl's sudden intrusion into her thoughts. She didn't want the Mercers to think she was off her rocker. "It's not tha easy."

"With you, child, few things are."

He had a point. From the outside Koy's family life with Matt and Thia looked as idyllic as the Mercer's public displays. In the moment those times were as sweet from the inside too. In Thia's presence Koy forgot everything except the overwhelming love she felt for her daughter. The hours spent lazing around the house with Matt after the infant was down for the night imagining and discussing all their hopes for her future were some of Koy's happiest. But when the elf had distance and solitude, when she could only sit and think all her fears of what must be in the cards consumed her. She worried and fretted over what could happen and wound up labeling the worst conclusions as inevitable.

Left alone with her own thoughts, she sought to steel herself in preparation for those inevitabilities. If she could love less, invest less of herself maybe it would hurt less when the future became the present. But any resolutions she made would be shattered with one smile from Thia; the protective dunes around her heart demolished by dimpled cheeks. At least they would lay in ruins until the next day when she came to the same decisions that would never hold and strove to build them up once again.

"As much as I enjoy the same looping train of paranoid raving perhaps you would do better to think less and just be."

While it was good advice Koy was about to question the opal's sudden desire for her to enjoy her life when he finished his thought.

"After all, your kind is best suited for that type of basic existence.?

That was more like it. Koy found her head nodding in agreement with at least the first part of his advice as she left the Mercers and the park behind. She needed to get back to the shop and more importantly, to the child who chased away her self-made demons.

Waking in his tent, nestled within the confines of a faded green down-feather sleeping bag, he could already feel the crisp sting of biting cold air. The sunlight, barely peeking through the trees at dawn, cast the inside of his tent in a dim shadowy glow. Layne Jenkins had witnessed many a morning, far too many , just like this. Ever since he'd been assigned to this locale, he'd been privy to the resplendent glory nature had to offer. And each and every day, he did his best to destroy it.

With a grunt, he tugged roughly on the bag's metal zipper and slid out from beneath the warmth, wiping his palms on his jeans. Over the years, he'd taken to sleeping in his clothes, especially during the fall and winter months; any extra warmth was always welcome when the summer faded into memory. Reaching to his left, he closed his hand around a long-sleeve woolen shirt which he tugged over his muscled arms and large frame. Buttoning the shirt with one hand as he unzipped the tent's entryway, his eyes turned to narrow slits once he emerged.

Everything was exactly as it should be. And everything was also very wrong.

Men walked and stumbled through the camp (some due to poor in-the-dark eyesight, and some due to too much liquor the previous night) with most headed for the mess tent or to find a suitable tree behind which to relieve their bladders. Bursts of steam radiated from coffeepots as the crackle and sizzle of burning twigs in small fire-pits reached his ears. Some of the men were busy preparing their own personal meats rather than test the mettle of their stomachs with the camp cookery. Layne didn't blame them in the least. The rumble of a large engine faded in the distance as a truck, stocked with workmen and an empty bed, slowly wound its way over a hastily manufactured dirt road, still blocked occasionally by fallen timber, toward a designated marker point to begin the day's work.

Given the activity level of the camp, it seemed he'd overslept. But that wasn't what bothered him.

The blanket of snow on the ground, pure white stained in many places with muck from the bottom of work-boots, was his cause for concern. The two or three seconds he took to survey the scene put him in a sour mood that, given his character, would likely last the rest of the day.

Stalking toward the temporary cabin that served as the camp's headquarters, he yanked on the door, burst inside, and sighed gruffly. Whoever was in charge of the desk had abandoned their post, likely to grab breakfast. Whatever the reason, there'd be hell to pay when they returned. In the meantime, he shoved a chair out of the way and began to peck at a dirt-stained computer keyboard. The computer told him, after a series of miskeys and loud cursing at the damned uncooperative machine, that it was currently forty-two degrees Fahrenheit with patchy clouds.

Successfully resisting the urge to kick the computer (and only because he didn't want the cost for another one, for the umpteenth time, taken out of his paycheck), he stormed out of the cabin and back into the lightly-falling snow. After a brisk quarter-mile walk to a clearing logged just the day before, Layne was able to peer up into the light gray clouds that extended as far as he could see in any direction. The sun, having fully crested the horizon, battled to push its way past the vapor, finding at least partial success.

His boots crunching bits of torn bark and dried pine needles into the thin layer of snow, Layne turned back toward camp. Snow this early in the season was definitely not in his plans (nor, apparently, in the computer's), but he'd dealt with similar situations before. Come hell or high water, he'd make damn sure his men acquired the yield they'd set out to take.

Layne awoke when it was dark, remained stark still in his sleeping bag, and snapped his eyes open. He waited for them to adjust to the darkness, unsure of what had jarred him from sleep.

The previous day, despite the snow, had been a successful one. The men worked efficiently, if not fearfully, under the careful watch of their foreman. Layne wasn't a well liked man but his workers knew that his word was law and, if nothing else, at least respected him. Layne never asked things of his men that he wasn't willing to do himself. He lead by example and expected his men to follow suit. Thus, they'd accomplished a great deal in a short amount of time while still managing to take a full day's yield in marking and felling trees. All the log-hauling transport trucks had tire chains installed, chainsaw engines were filled with special cold-resistant oils and fuel, and cold-weather gear was distributed to all the men. Layne refused to be caught off guard if the snow lasted longer than a few days, especially since the untruthful computer still claimed it was sunny with clear skies. All in all, it had been a good day.

In the midst of this night, though, something was amiss. Layne felt it, though he couldn't express that feeling in words. Outside, he heard nothing but silence broken by the occasional gust of wind. That in and of itself was strange; typically, the forest, even areas devastated by the Graf Corporation's loggers, showed signs of audible life " a hooting owl, songs from nocturnal birds, the rustle of dirt and pine under scavenging rodents. The quiet disturbed him. The weather disturbed him. Layne was happiest when things were easily explicable and attuned to his liking. Situations like this, the unexpected, made him nervous.

Pushing himself out of the sleeping bag, Layne rolled onto his hands and knees, immediately tensing as he heard, or more aptly, sensed, the tail end of a very unnatural howl that seemed to have no beginning. Trying to determine what, if anything, he'd heard, he felt the ground rumble. Gentle at first, the slight shaking quickly became violent; a fierce jerk threw him to the side despite his relatively stable position and knocked him against the side of his tent which nearly collapsed. He could hear cries of confusion from his men amongst the crashing of equipment which spilled off the trucks and out from storage lockers.

Forcing himself onto his feet, Layne lurched out of his tent only to find the ground still once more. Several of his men had emerged from their tents as well, murmuring in confusion. Layne quickly walked toward the cabin-headquarters, not caring that the snow was soaking into his socks. He paid no mind to the broken corpse of a dead bird that lay next to the building, a few feet from the doorway. This time, the night-clerk was at his post, restoring an upended chair to its rightful position.

Layne wasted no time in barking his orders, "Get me corporate. Now! I don't care who you wake up.?

As the clerk dialed, Layne grimaced as he noticed a section of broken glass in the cabin's lone paned window. Spiderlike cracks burst like a nova from a small hole in the glass; something, he surmised, must have struck the window during the earthquake. Shaking his head, Layne cursed the forest and its strange occurrences, longing, as he always did, for home.

((Authorial apologies for sequencing; this post takes place the day prior to the fire))

He didn't hear the knocking at his office doorway until it became a pounding. Tearing his tired eyes away from the data-screen and toward the door, he sighed.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Dr. Ashleigh Vard"n, who looked equally as haggard as the Governor.

Gently shutting the door behind her, she slumped down into one of the chairs across from Matt's desk and began tugging on a stray lock of hair that curled down to her cheek.

"We have the latest results."

"And?"

Dr. Vard"n paused, knowing the Governor wasn't going to like her answer, just as he hadn't the numerous times she'd been to this office in the past few months.

"Still nothing."

Matt just stared ahead, past the doctor, to the far office wall. They sat in silence for several minutes before his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a few moments, only speaking to say "thank you? before hanging up. His mouth curled into a tight frown as he looked out his office window and toward the cloudless sky hanging over the cool day.

Dr. Vard"n finally broke the stillness, "What?"

With another sigh, Matt slowly rose from his chair and pointed out the window.

"See that?"

"See what?"

"The sun, and the lack of clouds."

Confused, Dr. Vard"n stood, too. "Yes."

"Then explain to me," said the Governor, his shoulders sagging further with each word, "how, a few miles away, it's snowing."

Dr. Vard?n said nothing. Another link in a strange series of events she couldn't explain was as frustrating to her as it was to Matt. Like the Governor, spent several moments staring out the window with a feeling of defeat. All these weeks and no answers. Worse, the subtle shifts in climate and weather behavior were becoming more and more pronounced as time passed.

She stood, stared, thought, and fought the impulse to let tears of frustration flow. She couldn't say how long she stood there, nor when the Governor took his leave. When she turned to face him, he was gone.

"Sit down," pleaded the makeup artist. "You look like absolute hell. We can't let you go on camera like this."

Despite her misgivings, Matt pushed his way past the artist. "No time, no time," he mumbled, not particularly wanting to pay any attention to the people who were supposed to make him look "presentable" in front of Rhydin's citizenry.

Upon returning to the city, he'd stopped long enough to personally communicate with his staff, alert senior Watch Commanders, and speak with Robyn Pemberton, Alyson Vokoun, and Chase Jones, the RASG squadron leaders. He apprised each of them of the situation, the potential seriousness, and the need to act swiftly without causing an uproar of fear. He waited impatiently for dawn to arrive, by which time smoke from the fire had broached the city walls. Carried by the wind, ash was already beginning to collect in a thin black-and-white veil on the streets.

He didn't need to see his reflection in a mirror to know that his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark purplish bags that screamed of over-taxation and fatigue. Usually clean-shaven, especially making a speech, Matt hadn't bothered to take time to shave. Stubble covered his face and neck and he'd let his usually short-cropped hair go uncut for at least a month.

Stopping long enough to make sure his shirt was tucked, Matt tried to assume as calm and collected a demeanor as possible. Nevermind that he was running totally off the cuff; he didn't even have a prepared speech to give to the bevy of media waiting in the next room.

Walking onto the stage, Matt took his place behind the podium, looked out over the throng of reporters and into the myriad of recording devices, and began to speak.

Matt's mouth moved as the words came to him and the Governor didn't seem to realize the points during which he misspoke or said words incorrectly.

"Citizens of Rhydin,

Over the past several months, the weather patterns in area surrounding this city and spanning far beyond its borders have been behaving strangely. Our scientists brought this to my attention once they noticed the pattern shifts and, in the ensuing weeks, we've worked tireless to uncover the mystery behind them."

For the most part, by themselves these shifts seem benign. A slight drop or increase in temperature over a period of time, alterations in the jet-streams, oceanic currents changing by degrees, things of that nature. Taken as a whole, our scientists, including Rhydin's Chief Climatologist, Doctor Ashleigh Vard"n and her team, believe that we're in the midst of an inexplicable and fundamental shift in, if not climate, than perhaps environment.

Too, we've encountered," here Matt paused, trying to find the proper way to phrase the words, "more sinist"excuse me, less benign occurences and more noticable behaviors. We believe that whatever's going on is directly responsible for the death of Miles Jaffey, the RASG pilot I spoke to you about several weeks ago, who was killed while on patrol by jets of ocean water shooting up into the sky by no means that we've been able to uncover. Too, despite the relatively fine weather we've been having over the city these last few days, the weather less than twenty-miles from here is quite different. Sun here, clouds, rain and snow, there. There's no reason for it that we can determine.

Now," and here, Matt raised a cautionary hand, 'some of you, especially given recent events, may seek to point the finger at magic somehow being responsible for all of this. I assure you, we've explored that possibility and have seen no evidence to support such a claim. The amount of magic necessary to change things in such fundamental ways would be enormous and would leave trails. I'm confident this isn't a result of magic."

Matt paused again, looking at several of the cameras held by crews and those hovering near the podium.

"I've not addressed these issues with you before as, simply put, we've had no answers to give. We still don't. The reason I tell you now is because answers are not forthcoming, and we can't know when or if we'll have them. Clearly, it's your right to know and be fully informed of what?s going on in the place you've chosen to live."

Despite the extreme inappropriateness of the moment, Matt couldn't fight back the yawn that his body demanded he take. Covering his mouth, he at least attempted to stifle it. In an attempt to play off the faux pas, he cracked a small smile.

"I'm sorry, it's been a long night and I've been neglecting what my wife teases me is my non-beauty sleep."

Clearing his throat, he continued, walking out from behind the podium as was becoming his custom during his speeches.

"Now, in addition to everything I've said, I come to the most important reason I'm speaking to you now. By this time of morning, many of you have probably been outside or at least looked out of your windows. The overhead smoke and ash is due to a wildfire that began a few hours ago less than twenty-miles from here. Winds in the area are shifting rapidly for no explainable reason, giving us reason to suspect that the fire, or at least the behavior affecting it, is directly related to what I've just been telling you all about.

Let me stress that, as of right now, the city is in no immediate danger, other than perhaps the air quality. The RASG, as I speak to you, are flying sorties over the fire in efforts to both retard its progress and to contain it within a set border. I've also dispatched specially trained contingents of the City Guard to assist with efforts from the ground. Please, do not attempt to approach the forest as you might hinder the efforts to contain and suppress the blaze. Rest assured, we're on top of the situation and will broadcast updates to you as we receive them. Shortly, I myself will take to the air to ensure the operation's running smoothly and to address any more problems should they occur. As such, I have no time for questions, but will hold another public address press conference as soon as I'm able.

Thank you, I'll speak with you all again soon."

Immediately heading back to where he'd first entered the stage, the Governor ignored the numerous simultaneous questions shouted out at him by the media. Walking as fast as he could toward the building's exit, he was followed by several equally fast moving members of his staff who peppered him with questions of their own.

Emerging from the building, he paused long enough at the doorway to turn and say, "I'm sorry everyone. No time. I have to get back to Star's End."

Breaking into a run, he crossed the parking lot, jumped into his Jeep, and sped away while the group of confused and stunned staff tried to make sense of the speech they'd just heard.

Glancing in his rearview mirror, Matt watched the group remain clustered around the doorway as they rapidly faded into the distance.

The preceding transcript of Governor Simon's speech has been made part of the public record and is available at the Rhydin Public Library. Visual and auditory records of the speech are also publically accessible.

ShadoWeaver and MoonBeryl felt the same state of fear and exultation. The inroads into the child were both a success and failure. They had much to discuss.

That was not what I expected, sister.

No. ShadoWeaver needed time to consider what had just taken place.

Control was not easy. Did we have control?

Yes. ShadoWeaver lied out of habit before quickly recanting. Dishonesty with her brother would not help achieve their goals.

No. We were only inside her mind for an instant. There wasn't time to establish ourselves. This was simply a test.

And what a test. ShadoWeaver and MoonBeryl spent hours examining every portion of that instant, everything they'd sensed and seen. Both Opals felt themselves, ever so slightly, slip away during that instant; had they not pulled back, they could have lost themselves in the turmoil. Neither of them had expected FireStar's base element to unleash itself so violently, so quickly, with no warning.

The longer they investigated, the larger MoonBeryl's doubts grew. The child's essence was too chaotic. They'd expected a swift and easy inroad, expected to overwhelm base simplicity with no effort. ShadoWeaver did her best to quash her brother's worries. They were too close to stop now.

Let me work on this alone, brother. You are correct, we were ill prepared for the bedlam in her mind. We shall not make that mistake again. There is order to the disarray. I must simply unlock it. Give me time.

MoonBeryl considered his sister's words and eventually agreed, his desire for the power they were so close to unlocking outweighing all other danger, including that of his own welfare.

ShadoWeaver sensed her brother needed a distraction, something to keep him from thinking too much about the experiment's flaws.

Taunt the elf, brother. See if you can get her to admit the truths she already knows.

Work quickly, sister. I fear the others will sense something amiss if this continues much longer.

Do not worry, brother, the black opal spoke confidently, they cannot stop us. Attend to your playthings. I will find you when the time is right.

October 23rd, 2210hrs

"Best estimate is a couple days until we have it all under control, sir." The faceless voice from the SWACS was not at all comforting.

"Any insights into what started the fires?"

"No, sir. Nothing we can tell at this point, anyway. We know the focal point and we'll get down there as soon as we're able."

"Understood. Simon out."

October 24th, 0728hrs

Matt stared thoughtfully at the big lumberjack who looked uncomfortable and too large for the confines of the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"So you weren't there?"

"No," Layne barked, "how many times do I have to say it' Living in this place has made you as stupid as the rest of these mutant freaks."

"That's enough," Matt cautioned. Whatever debt he owed Layne for the man's part in building the Outback's bar years prior had worn out long ago. Layne's disdain for Rhydin and its inhabitants was no secret; the lumberjack took great delight in making snide and chastising comments at every opportunity about the people and things Matt held most dear. Whatever past history the two men shared did nothing to endear Layne to Matt's heart or invoke the least bit of pity or sympathy for the man who held such off-colored views. He had no need to be nice, or even civil.

"You're of no use, then" he said evenly. "Send me the guys who were there. And get the hell out of my office."

October 24th, 1118hrs

"One more time, gentlemen," Matt said, looking over the dozen or so men who'd occupied the Graf Corporation's Forward Site C the previous morning when the fire broke out.

Matt listened carefully as the men spoke. Some of what they said was contradictory " the result of their brains filling in gaps formed in the chaos of trying to escape to safety. Normally, that would annoy him. In this case, he sensed that he could use it to his advantage if the need arose.

When they finished, he nodded at them and shook each man's hand.

"Thank you," he said with a cautious smile, "for your time."

October 25th, 1856hrs

The din of chatter from the Outback's dueling areas reached his ears. The Diamond Quest was to start in a matter of minutes and he nearly didn't care.

The fires were nearly contained. The city: safe. The RASG had performed admirably from what he'd observed both on the ground and in the air. A few hiccups here and there, as were expected in such an operation, but nothing they hadn't overcome. He had every reason to be proud, to extol the accomplishment as a shining moment.

Instead, he could think about little else than the root cause of not just the fire, but of everything preceding it. All evidence pointed to the fire having begun spontaneously. The logging crew hadn't seen lightning and had set up camp too far away from the ignition point to have started it themselves. There was no record of thundersnow that could have produced lightning; such instances were rare at best anyway.

The answer to the fire's cause, like all the other answers, eluded him. He'd wracked his brain, neglected his sleep, foregone meals and tried everything he could think of in case that one last waking moment was the one where the puzzle fit together in his mind.

Forcing himself out of his chair, he dragged himself toward his office door. He looked like hell. He felt much worse. Reaching for the doorknob, he realized he still held a data-pad in his hand. Lifting it, he stared at the information on the screen. Data which, like the vast amounts preceding, was of absolutely no use. How could he live up to his promises" How could he ensure everyone's safety if he couldn't even tell them what endangered them'

Dropping the device, he watched as it bounced and clattered on the floor. Opening the door, he lifted his right leg and dropped his booted foot down heavily onto the data-pad's screen. The snaps and pops as the device shorted and shattered made him feel, for a fleeting instant, slightly better.

Matt sighed, shutting the door behind him. He trudged toward the others. The tournament was beginning.

October 28th, 1337hrs

The quiet hum of computers, terminals, and data-miners, despite their large number, were relatively easy to talk over. Dr. Vard"n and Matt conversed in low tones as they walked past operators and scientists all too busy to notice them, too busy trying to solve the mystery at hand, too busy wrapped up in minute details to concern themselves with the Governor's presence in their midst.

Once inside her office, with the door shut, Ashleigh spoke, continuing their conversation.

"There's just no cause. Just like the water-jets that killed Mr. Jaffey, there's no reason this fire broke out."

"No, there's a reason. Just one you can't find." Matt couldn't hide the accusatory sting in his tone.

Dr. Vard"n's lips curled into a frown; her natural inclination was to defend her team. "We're worki?"

"You've been working on it," Matt interrupted, "for months." Nevermind that he'd done so as well and met with the same success as the experts. It wasn't his job to figure this out. It was theirs.

"The fire started for a reason. All this is happening for a reason. This is no longer your team's mission, doctor. It's yours. Keep them working on all the other incidents we can't explain. This fire thing, it's yours. And yours alone. "

Frustration, fatigue, anger, they were written into his face, his posture, his voice. He looked and felt as threatening and violent as he could get without physically throwing a punch. He spoke authoritatively, coldly, in such a way that it was obvious he expected no defiance.

"You will find me that reason. Do you understand" You will find me that reason."

Dr. Vard"n could only watch as Matt yanked open her office door and stalked away, her shoulders slumping. The Governor wanted answers where there were no answers to give.

What more could she do that she hadn't already done"

November 1st, 0842hrs

Governor Simon folded his hands, sat straight in his chair, and asked Dr. Vard"n to confirm what she'd just said.

"Yes," she replied, the creases on her forehead deepening, "everything we have says the fire started spontaneously. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's the last explanation left. You've seen the evidence the same as me. "

"And your team's been briefed?"

"No, sir. There hasn't been time. I came here as soon as the models resolved, like you'd instructed."

He swallowed and nodded slowly. Her answer confirmed the decision he'd made early that morning in the Outback.

"Thank you, doctor. That will be all."

Time to change has come and gone Watched your fears become your God

You feed the fire that burned us all When you lied

"Jerry Cantrell

November 1st, 1042hrs

Exactly two hours after she'd first left, back in Matt's office, Ashleigh Vard"n stood behind the back of a chair, literally shaking with indignation and rage, hardly able to articulate her thoughts. She found the Governor's demeanor much as it had been before, calm, composed, and even-keeled. All traces of post-speech self-reproach were absentfrom his countenance.

The Governor waited calmly as she openly seethed, managing quite well not to look at all remorseful.

"Liar," she finally spit out, her white-knuckled hands gripping the chair, leaving indentations where her nails gouged into the leather.

Matt raised a hand to stop her. He'd chosen his course. "You came to your own conclusions, doctor. I simply disagree with your findings. Or rather, your lack of findings. "

"The data says I'm right," she protested, jabbing a finger at the terminal screen. "You know I'm right. I don't unde?"

"Doctor," Matt cut her off, "are you referring to this data, here?"

She glared at him, nodding when he pointed to the screen. A half second later, after two quick keystrokes, the screen went dark.

"That data no longer exists."

She just stared at him, her face a sculpture of disbelief.

"Doct"Ashleigh, look," Matt's opportunity to somehow convince the scientist to see things his way was rapidly diminishing. If he had a chance at all, he'd only get one.

"Let's assume you're right. Let's assume the damn thing started on its own, for all we know because it just felt like it. What do you suggest I tell the public" That we still have no answers and oh, by the way, please stand ready in case an inferno happens to light up in the middle of your house with no warning" Or maybe an ice-storm could jumpstart in your neighborhood in a matter of moments, or a tempest could flare up on your kid's school playground in the middle of recess. I'm sure knowing that would make everyone rest easy, right?"

Matt slowly rose out of his chair, looking his Chief Climatologist right in her wide incredulous eyes.

"I can't, I won't cause widespread panic. We know nothing. You've had months, your team's had months. And nothing. And I will not cause those people out there," he pointed out the window, "to let their wild fears run rampant. You saw what happened with the Proposition Thirty-Seven deal. Overnight, magic turned from a daily part of life into something to be hated and feared. The idiotic idea that magic might be dangerous and a cause for alarm because it's a wildcard, an unknown factor, caused dread and terror in people who never gave it a second thought beforehand. People were killed, Ashleigh. Killed. Over what? An unknown. And all we have to offer those people is a hell of a lot of unknown. Do you honestly trust those people out there to just accept the trut?" he stopped himself, "what we do and don't know and trust us to figure it out before something worse happens" I sure as hell don't."

Matt walked out from behind his desk and moved next to one of the office windows, gazing out onto the city streets below.

"I've said it too often over the past couple of weeks, Doctor. We're running out of time. Go back to your office and figure this out. Figure this out before something truly bad happens. Figure this out before I do have to go out there in front of those cameras and tell people to evacuate the city because we can't in good conscience ensure their safety."

He turned, crossed his arms, and looked directly at her again, his voice reverting to a state from several days prior in her office " authoritative, cold, and firmly expectant of obedience. "There will be no leaks, no suggestions, no hints from you or anyone else involved with these efforts to even remotely suggest that fire began on its own. You will not mention it to anyone else. You will agree with the findings I just presented and will make part of the public record. Then, you will go back to work."

Sitting down once more, Matt turned his terminal screen away from the doctor. Glancing up as he prepared to type, he found Dr. Vard"n, looking shocked and unnerved, having not moved.

"I suggest, doctor," he said grimly as his fingers played over the terminal's interface, "you not waste any more time."

The next time he looked up, she was gone. He'd dealt the hand; he hoped to God she'd play along

Prayers for a Faraway God

Ev'ry little movement has a meaning all its own. Ev'ry thought and feeling by some posture can be shown. And ev'ry love thought that comes a-stealing o'er your being, Must be revealing all its sweetness In some appealing little gesture all its own. -Otto Harbach

November 6, 2009

Another night spent twisting her sheets in a restless sleep was made no better when she shot awake to remember Matt wasn't home. He was out patrolling the skies searching for something she didn't fully understand and likely never would. She had swapped being a space Colonel's girlfriend to become the Governor's wife. The place and circumstances had changed but the feelings and facts were the same.

The weather unnerved him. Everything else worried her.

Over time they had developed an unspoken method of reeling each other in when one was spinning out of control. More often than not Matt was the anchor that prevented Koy from crashing and burning beyond recognition. There were only two periods of their life together where they reversed roles " the first when ShadoWeaver possessed him and the second when he returned after months of being lost on a failed Confed mission. Both had left their mark on him. Koy saw it even when Matt denied it, to himself most of all. But Matt managed his scars better than she did. He converted the loss of his life fighting a war for the Confederation once peace was reached to running for Governor. With renewed purpose to his professional life Matt was able to resume his role as the hook that held her steady.

Until now. They were both falling downward when one of them needed to be the safety net. The only thing forcing them to stay standing was their daughter. They couldn't do this dance forever though.

One of them needed to catch and pull the other back in.

Koy rose from her bed and went to the closet. She dragged out the pine needle prayer mat her brother had given her before she left Langenfirth for RhyDin, long before she left a million shattered pieces of herself strewn between the two distant cities. The mat was woven with the image of a giant boar with white tusks flanked by a smaller wolverine. She knelt down facing the bedroom window and clasped her hands together in prayer.

"Boar Tusk, be my blade. Kuniyo, hold me upright as the oak trees. Everild, my wild lord, hear my prayers and guide yer lost warrior." Koy extended her arms up over her head and down onto the mat bringing the rest of her upper body with them. The next words fell from her lips in the automatic fashion of someone who had been repeating them since childhood. They were in Gweth, the language of her village: "Leor rae pama phofer ve li misekar, Naen li alyi tema albir din ri ziallar."

Learn of this dream in the end, All the Gods you seek not to offend.

Koy sat up and clasped her hands together again. She wished she could see the thirteen stars in the Elanthian night sky that made up the Boar constellation but her god would have to strain to catch her imploring the moons of RhyDin instead.

"I am fightin" a losin" war. My foe is not made of flesh. She does not bleed nor does she seek ta spill blood. My foe thirsts fer the souls of those I love. Everild, I beg ye, make me stronger. Make me stronger than tha darkest night in Riverhaven, tha night yer grace pulled me out of the depths and gave me the will ta fight fer life. Make me stronger so I don't become my own worst enemy. Imbue tha same courage ye carry with such ease inta my loved ones tha they may also rise ta those challenges awaitin" "em. "

She rocked back and forth on her knees. Her knuckles turned white from how tightly she held her hands together. She finished the prayer with a shaky breath.

"Ye of the boar, the wolverine, the centaur; proud heart, stout heart, dark heart; my lord of battle, my god of strength— I, yer servant, call on ye ta grant me yer blessin": Let my faith be my armor, my devotion, my blade, and yer name on my lips. Carry me through this battle. Praise Everild."

She only hoped he could hear her.

((Based in parts on elements from the DragonRealms game series.))

The weather changed it for the worse And came down on us like it had been rehearsed —Modest Mouse

November 8, 2009

"Make sure everyone stays inside." It wasn't the instructions as much as Matt's tone that made the hair stand up on the back of Koy's neck. She recognized the cool, collected, and most of all commanding, tone that came from years of leading soldiers. He might have been dressed to the nines for the Governor's Ball but he would always first and foremost be a military man. He passed the order to the members of the Watch that had hurried into the ballroom to alert the Governor about the storm raging outside and getting worse with every passing second. Matt stepped away from Koy to make an announcement to his guests about the storm. Koy started for the door leading out of the hall. She didn't care how hard the rain might be falling. She wanted to be with her daughter who had only left a short time before under Zoey's care. She made it two steps before Luke Wesley's muscular form filled the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Simon, but you heard the Governor. Everyone stays inside." Luke frowned at having to reproach Koy but as part of Matt's private security detail his allegiance was with the Governor above all others.

"Excuse me, everyone! Please, may I have your attention for a moment. Please." Matt's voice carried across the hall quieted now for lack of a band playing. He worked to assure the crowd that while the storm wreaked havoc outside there was no reason for panic. He repeated his instructions now to remain indoors. Away from the hall, Koy scowled at Luke. "But our child's out there. Step 'side, Luke. Hodierna love ye, I'd rather not have ta hit ye but I will iffn ye don't get out of my way." Luke stood his ground and braced himself as Koy took another step towards him. Before Koy could try and shove him out of the way Matt's fingers clamped down hard on her wrist and pulled her back to his side. He had returned from making his announcement too quickly for Koy to escape. "I mean it, Koy. Everyone stays inside. That includes you."

Indignant, Koy whipped around to glare at her husband. "Ye can't be serious. I'm goin" ta get Thia."

Matt did not loosen his grip. His voice remained calm. "Thia is fine. She's indoors with Zoey. I need you to stay here where it's safe and not look panicked. We have to reassure our guests and lead by example." Koy could only stare at him and seethe. Luke winced seeing her expression but Matt did not flinch. It wasn't the first time his wife had been livid with him and it surely wouldn't be the last. Koy opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off quickly. "Not another word. We're going to go back out there and you will smile and let everyone see there's nothing to worry about. It's only a little rain."

She gave no nod or other sign of agreement but fumed in silence. She let him lead her back out to the main ballroom filled with friends and dignitaries. It was only when they were amidst the crowd and he remembered how tightly he was holding her wrist that he let her go. He fixed her with a look to remind her of her role which was only answered with a phony smile. He watched her disappear into the throng of partygoers before going to give the guards further instructions in private.

Koy's mind raced to come up with a plan of escape. She could see Luke across the room keeping an eye on her. When her gaze landed on Charlie she gave a small sigh of relief. She cut a path straight for her dear friend who had been good enough to not only show up at the ball but to throw on a dress for the occasion as well. Koy put on a bright smile as she came closer. "Viceroy! Did I tell ye yet how wonderful ye look tonight?" Koy went to wrap an arm around Charlie's waist, the first sign Charlie would get that something was wrong. The DoD girls were not a touchy-feely sort and the overly warm embrace was out of character for their relationship.

Instinctively, Charlie slid her arm around Koy's waist in an equally friendly gesture. Before Charlie could ask a question Koy smiled and whispered into her ear, "Keep smilin". I need ye ta help me get out of here without Matt knowin"." Koy kissed her cheek and pulled back with a laugh as if she had made some joking remark. Charlie quickly followed her lead and gave a short laugh as if the woman had whispered something amusing but not giddy enough to be uncharacteristic. Charlie took a glance across the crowd at Matt and leaned her head in towards Koy. "Looks like he's busy. Now's probably the time, Legs."

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes. Koy grabbed one and pretended as if someone had bumped into her, causing her to spill some bubbly over onto Charlie's dress. Though she deemed it necessary Koy frowned for a second at ruining something so pretty. Charlie continued to play along despite her own regret at having to stain her dress. "Oh!" Charlie took a startled step back. There was a brief glance shot Koy's way indicating that she would definitely be replacing the dress when everything was all said and done.

"Ay me, I'm so sorry "bout tha, Viceroy! C"mon, let's see iffn I can't fix ye up." Koy tugged Charlie forward through the crowd moving in the direction of the bathrooms. Luke stayed at his post instead of following them. Two women flocking to the ladies room together did not seem out of the ordinary. "Do you think it will stain" This dress fits me like a glove." Charlie's tone was just above a normal conversational tone but not louder than one tipsy young woman might use with a fellow imbiber. She patted the stain absently all the way until they passed into the shadows of the exit, selling the act the entire way. As they hit the door, she shot Koy a pointed imploring look and held the door open with a hip so that her friend could pass through.

Once out the door Koy stopped smiling. She was close to shaking with rage. She was also getting wet from what rain still was falling. "The nerve of tha man tellin' me ta jest stay put and look calm fer everyone..." It was a wonder she hadn't decked Matt right then and there. "I'm goin' ta check on Thia 'stead of playin' the part of the good Governor's wife." The words spit out with disgust as that was all she could offer Charlie as she sprinted down the street in her heels and ball gown.

A final glance around the room assured Charlie of their discreet exit and then she stepped out the doorway behind Koy, steeling herself for the weather that was sure to face them along the route. The door banged shut behind her as they exited out into the night.