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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
Chapter 45
Mars Colony Base Dome Date: 1st March AC 198 Time: 17:25 MST [Mars Standard Time] Zechs Crying about it would have no effect. Bemoaning the fact that he had not picked up on the events leading to that particular option would do nothing to change the course of events that might lead to absolute disaster. It was the worst result of all the bad results that he had glimpsed. Perhaps it linked to some of those partial visions, glimpses of bodies lying in contorted positions, blood soaking the dust of Mars, thick in the air of the burning domes. Perhaps that was it. This was an expanded version of the visions he had glimpsed. Something someone had said or done; some minor thing that he had missed could lead to this major upheaval and take out any chance he had of containing events to what he had considered manageable levels. Could, or already had done so. Sitting on the floor of this maintenance shaft, shivering from top to toe, would not alter events either. He had to manage himself and the disasters to come for everyone's benefit. To manage events, to even begin to think about how he might change this horror that refused to leave him, but replayed repeatedly... //Nooo. No, don't think it. Don't let it. Get past it. Go on.// To go on meant that he had to move and bring some semblance of control to his abused body and that would, must, force his mind to anchor to the here and now. No more questing unbidden into the futures that might never be. God he was so, so tired of that. So tired. If he could only sleep... "No." At some stage he must have been screaming. His throat felt raw, abused. Foul taste of vomit in his mouth, threatening to bring back the nausea. //No. Don't let... them... win.// One step at the time. That was what Epyon had taught him. One step at the time. Start small, basic and get through it. It was all very well to know what might happen, but changing it or aiding it meant control and planning. Every subtle guiding change produced new options that had to be considered. Sorted, turned over, discarded or kept. It certainly meant more than sitting on the floor of a maintenance shaft and howling like a little boy who had had his toys taken from him. He needed to establish control of himself and then assert his will on the visions and process the information he received back through Epyon... // God, no. I can't do that. I don't have Epyon. I'm slipping... slipping and I can't afford... to do that. I can't afford to fall... I'm on my own. I have to find a way to stop this from happening. // Rarely had he known without a shadow of doubt, that one of the options he viewed was not just an option. What he had experienced before, with the visions of the Domes detonating had felt different to the possibilities he had viewed in the past. With the notable exception of the Generation Wars. They had been different, those visions. The visions even filtered through Epyon had felt different to what he had experienced this day. First the detonation of the Domes. Now this vision of ships descending from the pink Martian sky to destroy all who might not keep silent about the horrors performed at the behest of the ESUN. There was a... solidity, he mused, to these visions. Was this curse laid on him by Epyon changing? Was it not bad enough what already happened when he saw the world through different eyes? This vision of the Cruiser and its crews bloody work had too much of an atmosphere of certainty about it. It felt too solid. Unlike most of the visions this one had brought with it a bout of sickness he had not felt since Epyon had first rocked his sense of reality. Yes, he had been ill then, when Epyon had first opened his mind to possibilities. He did not doubt that to cover up the disaster this mission had become, the ESUN agents would destroy the bases and the people who inhabited them. He could not just hand himself and the children over to the ESUN to stop this horror from being. That was not an option. To begin with, Noin would not allow it to happen. She would not allow that exchange to take place, even to save the others. Which, he knew, it would not do. He was trying to keep her alive, damn it and she kept interfering, placing herself deeper into danger, almost begging to be killed. Why? He just did not understand her. Aside from Noin there was also the simple unavoidable truth that events had already progressed too far. The ESUN agents had already given the order to take down Mars Colony and blame it on the Raiders. In blood, bone and tissue he knew that order had already gone out. Why else were they planting bombs and detonators? They would have to take out everyone not a Sleeper Agent to cover their own rears and to protect their superiors from the fallout. No, it was now a certainty that he could not cut a deal with the agents to save the colony. A faint lightening of the weight pressing on his vitals almost sent him into a fit of dry heaving. That light shift of pressure he knew. Recognized. Something had happened to push this event into progress and his acknowledgement of it was progress in him dealing with the situation. He had to deal with what was before he could move on to what might be and then, if he could, change it. It sickened him to know that options no doubt existed all around him. The universe was full to over flowing with options, he just could not see them for physical and mental exhaustion, and the emotional overload. There had to be options available that would allow him to influence events enough to bring about change. It could not be a certainty that they must die at the hands of the ESUN, their so called benefactors and protectors. There had to be a way to contain the disaster. First thing that needed to be done though, was to deal with the sickness he was experiencing. Water. He needed water. To get water he had to move from where he was in the maintenance shaft to the dome above. If he recognized the need to drink, then he was progressing down this seemingly endless path back to awareness and control. All the water he could ever want was in the hydroponics dome above his head. Recognition of his geographic location and what else was around him was recognizable progress too. That was good. He was in the maintenance shaft under the hydroponics dome three, in the base Dome on Mars. Good. That much was good. He needed water and all he had to do was go and get it. That was not so good, as it meant he had to move, and to move meant he had to recognize that nest of pain that was his body. Good or not, it made no difference. He needed the water and that meant he had to go and get it. It was a certain thing that it would not come to him. He had to get up, find the ladder and climb into the hydroponics dome. Once there, he would have no problem finding water. Yes, water was there, but unfortunately, so might be agents of the ESUN that he had not identified to date. A risk he would have to take as he needed that water. Move. //God. I hurt... Ah, shit... It would be so much easier to crawl into a ball and just die.// Coward. Visions of his children brought the pain and cramps to hideous reality with the full awareness of his body and he whimpered. Cursed himself and fought to regain control. Deep breaths, which helped to settle his stomach, not just helped him to deal with the pain he was in and he forced his eyes open. Yes, the maintenance shaft. So much for location. Now to get on. The pain in his shoulder had subsided to a dull ache and his hand had quieted from Banshee wails of agony to whimpers of distress and his stomach had decided to stop trying to come up and admire the light of day. He would have to move now. No more excuses to linger and admire the rust spots on the walls. His every attempt to stand was a crushing failure and he crawled a few feet, collapsing. This was going to get him nowhere, fast. He needed energy. Digging into the few remaining ration bars he had on him he nibbled slowly, trying not to think on what could be happening out beyond the hydroponics dome. Had Noin found Shanna McIntyre? If she had, what had she done to her? Had McIntyre gone down or had she taken Noin down? Was his willful, vibrant Noin gone? Dead? Or a prisoner? Free and still roaming, looking for trouble? Had they started the killing he had seen in his visions? //God, no, don't think of the visions. You can't do that. You can't afford to set it off again.// The ration bars he had eaten had managed to keep down, and made it possible to heave his frame off the floor and though his stomach considered a rematch, he resisted the urge to allow it. He needed to keep the ration bars down and he needed to move. He would feel better, faster, if he just started to move around. Why it worked that way, he had no idea, but the truth would not be denied. Maybe it was the simple fact that movement reminded his brain that he was alive, that he had a body and was not a system of circuits and wires. Reminded him that he was not now a part of the system called Epyon. //I'm starting to think better. Good. God, I need a drink. No coffee. Not this time.// The one thing his visionary episode had been good for, was parting him from his abysmal mistake in downing the coffee in the engineering bay. He knew why he had done that now. His bodies need for fluid had driven him to drink what ever had been to hand. No more coffee after that lesson. Water. He needed water. Movement came easier with each shuffled step and slide of his hand over the steel wall. He dared not take his hand from that solid support. The shuffle became surer, lengthening to a stride by the time he hit the first turn in the narrow access way. His stomach settled and the surging and ebbing of possible visions in his mind steadily receded. By the time he hit the second turn he felt almost capable of snarling about the whole sordid mess and by the time he reached the small cubicle which housed the maintenance locker and the rung ladder leading up to the hydroponics dome, he felt that his body might actually cooperate with him beyond basic shuffling movement. If he could just find some... For a moment he stared at the object set to one side of the lower rungs leading to the domes above and finally laughed, a low weary chuckle of disgust. Husky and ragged from his parched and strained throat. Why had he forgotten that that was there? Why? He still was not thinking as clearly as he needed to. That could get him killed. All that worry over having to climb another ladder with an injured shoulder and hand. All that worry over feeling so weak from sickness, the burning need that meant he had to expose himself , praying he did not find a ESUN agent before he had drunk his fill of the water he knew was up there. All that worry over nothing. The water cooler sat innocently, ignoring his low chuckle and gurgled merrily as he filled the disposable cup. He forced himself to sip the cool, refreshing liquid, sliding to sit with his back to the wall within easy reach of the cooler for refills as he needed them. Letting little sips of the life giving water trickle chillingly down his aching throat. To gulp down the water as his body demanded he do, would result only in throwing it back up. He was not such a fool that he would do that. He needed those ration bars and the water in his belly, not decorating the floor. He had to take the time to rest his body so that it would work for him, not against him. He was of no use to Noin or to the other people if he could not control his own needs. Time to take a few minutes to think on what he would need and how best to go about acquiring his equipment. When he had come to Mars there had been no visions of disaster to contend with. However he had never been a trusting soul, and he could all too easily see the use his existence would be put to. He had known then that it was likely to come to a time when he might need to defend himself against agents of the ESUN. Even before Noin had gotten into his bed he had managed to fashion and cache some potentially useful items in various places around the base. The dentists mirror he had filched was an example. He had collected the useful items from that supply room and they had already proven the worth of his choices. He had managed to fashion other items that he knew now would be of use. It was amazing just how much you could work on under the noses of your keepers, and they might not realize what exactly it was you were working on. Initially, on his arrival on Mars, there had been no dreams, no visions, other than the nightmares of his past to contend with. It was only after the feelings had started that there was trouble coming that he had begun to acquire and fashion equipment for his own use, that they certainly would recognize as not being of a benevolent nature. Equipment that certainly would have had the ESUN up in arms if they had known. Carefully he had confiscated parts and scraps of metal and assembled them into the components he had thought he would need. The list of required equipment had grown as the vague feelings had turned into half remembered dreams and then into visions that had, once again, shaken his grasp on reality. The problem was that there were so many options. Too many possibilities that might never eventuate. Some things he knew with certainty would happen, but too much was too easily changed by small, seemingly insignificant events. It was picking which of those events would affect the greater design that was the problem. Well, to be honest, one of the problems. He had to cater to so many possibilities that likely more than half of the equipment he had prepared would never need to be used. That was just par for the course, though, when you dealt with the possibilities of life. Likely he did not have just the right equipment for what he would need to do and he must always be prepared to improvise. However, there was a core group of items that he had felt very likely to be needed, regardless of what ever happened. These items he had painstakingly assembled and hidden from the prying eyes of both friend and enemy. Not knowing exactly who he could and could not trust meant that he hid everything from everyone. One cache he already had raided and he must decide which of the other caches would best serve his needs and get to it. It had taken him time and considerable effort to keep his activities hidden from his Keepers as he constructed the various items. He could not afford for them to see him as anything other than the obedient prisoner living the only life left to him. // Well, they can't be allowed to get away with it, but how do I prove they will do it before they actually do? No one will believe it. Even the people here think it is Raiders and for the peace to work, they must remain thinking that. There can be no peace if the people have no faith in their government. For it to be generally known what the ESUN government is capable of doing will only breed dissent. People will wonder if they will be the next likely targets of a government that is as heavy handed and autocratic as the Alliance was in it's heyday. The slightest thing could spark off revolts and rebellions against the government and then we are back to the days of war. // A few deep breaths were needed then and strong will power to banish an onrush of visionary possibilities before they became overwhelming. He... would... not... go... down... into... vision...
Control. He could not allow it to happen. He had enough to cry over now, without adding to the burden of what might be if he failed to make something of this horror. Make his body lean forward and pour another cup of that beautiful, cold, refreshing, life saving liquid. Make his body move and force the visions away. Make himself become physical body, not widely seeing mind. He already knew it would be bad if the people lost confidence in the ESUN. That must not be allowed to happen and that was all there was to it. Above all, the Generation Wars must not be allowed to spark. Yet the people here on Mars should not have to pay a price so high as their lives just to ensure it did not happen. He had tried that before, trading his soul and the lives of others to buy peace for the Earth and the colonies. He had gone that way with the Libra and surely he need not have to do it again. Surely he could somehow manage to make this different. // Who am I kidding? Just who the hell do I think I am kidding? No one would believe me if I told them. I would have to tell them how I know and hell, I have told Noin and she thinks I'm a bigger nut case that I was before. It's too big an ask for anyone to understand. Even Noin does not understand. I can't tell her what will happen, because that changes the circumstances, introduces the possibility that she will take action that changes the event or leads directly to worse possibilities. That makes people certain you're a nut case when you give them the example and it changes because of the interaction that took place. It's a lose-lose scenario.// So then, the question should be, how to get a win out of the situation? //I have to face it. People are going to die what ever I do. Likely they are dieing even now, while I sit here and curse that its not fair. Well of course its not fair, so get past it. Your not six now and... Oh God... No. I... I had forgotten.// -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- * Roaring like a plane overhead, but so close, so loud, like it was just outside of his window. Listening to the sound of engines screaming and then strange, solid sounding thumps... Someone crying and then people screaming and strange sharp barking sounds... "Someone get the children!"... Mobile suit standing so impossibly high nearby... There were no Mobile Suits in Sanc. Father never let those huge machines in the country, let alone the city... Flames dancing high into the air, licking at the ornate fretwork on the buildings... children huddling in a corner, crying, faces covered in dirt and ash... "Milliardo? Baby, what is the matter? You were crying out in your sleep." "Mama?" welcome, slender arms around him, hugging him tight, protecting him from the screams and the flames and the fear. While she held him he was safe from the terror. Delicate fingers smoothing back his unruly hair. "It's okay. Just a dream. You just a bad dream." "There were planes, mother. Huge, big planes, much bigger than the one you and father go away in. There were mobile suits coming out of the planes and they were walking in the city and there was fire everywhere. I knew it was all wrong, mama, because daddy never lets mobile suits into the city." "Hush now, you need not fear, Sweets. It was only a bad dream, Milliardo. You've had a few of those, recently, haven't you, baby? We must find out what is upsetting you and causing all these nightmares. You need your sleep, baby, because you have some really exciting days coming and we can't have you exhausted because you are not sleeping. Your father and I are beginning to get worried, sweetheart." "Not a baby. Relena's the baby." sulky, frowning, but he never tried to escape her embrace. He was safe if she held him and he so needed to feel her solid warmth. Her laughter was soft and musical, the sweetest sound he had ever heard. No sound, not even the music that he heard when there was a ball could compare to her laughter. "Oh, so you are not my baby anymore, hmm? Does that mean we can not share cuddles and kisses?" "No." quickly spoken, he could not do without her cuddles. He loved to be held by her and when she kissed him he knew he was loved and that he was safe. Everyone kissed and cuddled Relena, but only his mother did that to him. "It just means I'm not little, like Lena is. I'm a big boy now." "Yes, you are a big boy, but my dearest Milliardo, to me you will always be my baby. Even when you're an old man and I am a very, very old lady, you will still be my baby." "That's no fun then." he pouted, lightly stroking a lock of golden brown hair that fell over her shoulder. She had her hair down only when she went to bed and he loved to touch its silken length. "You won't let me do things even when I'm old." "Oh, don't worry, Precious One. You'll be old enough to do all sorts of things and I won't tell you not to do them, I promise." she was laughing at him, he knew, but he did not mind. It was just so nice to have her hold him and make the fear go away. "It was a mobile suit, mama. It was in my dream. It was huge and the street was burning all around it. You know the street with the toy shop and the ice cream place and that little church you took me to, to meet the children just this morning? It was all burning and it was snowing too and the children were hiding in the dirt and the ash." Delicate fingers caressed his cheek and her dark blue eyes, so like the colour of his little sisters eyes were on him. She was frowning and he did not like to see her frown; did not like it that his words had caused it. The dream still frightened him and he clung to her, afraid that if she left it would all begin again. He reached to lightly run a finger over the frown lines and smooth them out. Ma'ma should not frown. She was too pretty to frown. "The church with the orphans? Now what could you have seen there that upset you enough to have caused you to have a nightmare? I thought you enjoyed meeting the children. It was only a dream, Precious. Just a dream and a bad one at that. You know that tomorrow is Christmas Eve and you have a big day ahead of you. You just think about Christmas and all the fun we will have. I don't think you'll have any more bad dreams, so why don't you lie down again and go back to sleep, hmm?" "Can I have a drink of water, mama? I'm awfully thirsty." * -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He had forgotten the dreams. Forgotten the fear of the dream. Forgotten the feel of her comforting arms around him and the sound of the music that was her laugh. He had forgotten the dream itself when he had awoken the next day and the palace had become a hive of activity for the pre Christmas celebrations. He had forgotten the terror, until the next night, when Christmas was almost over, when his birthday was almost finished, that the dream had come to him. On the night of his sixth birthday that nightmare had become all too real around him. He had forgotten. "God. I told her about the dream. I told her about the dream, and it happened. The street burned. The church burned." Resting his head back against the wall he considered the pipes running along the ceiling. Running straight, east to west, neat parallel pipes. It was a great pity that life was not like that. Neat running lines, predictable, straight, even when they joined other pipes the joins were neat and right where they should be. Predictable. //I thought... I thought that... Epyon. Oh God, I thought that Epyon made me like this. I thought it was Epyon that made me see things. He was right. He was right.// -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- * The panorama of space surrounded him. The viewing room gave the impression one stood in a bubble and looked out, over the station's bulk, past the fringe patrols into the vastness of space. The asteroid belt surrounded them, dancing around their position constantly, a source of disaster if the computers ever miscalculated the rotation of the station and the intensity of the energy screens. This isolated bubble of stability in the belt hung by a precarious thread. The smallest mistake could see the station impacted on some frozen chunk of rock faster than he could blink. "You still intend to go back? It's a mistake, you know. You do not belong back there, either amid the Earth Sphere colonies or on Earth itself. It has all changed and you are no longer a part of it." "I don't belong here, either." He moved a step closer, the sound of his magnetic boots sharp in the hollow, empty room. He could almost see the man, tall and intense and the light of knowledge in his eyes. "It is better for you to remain here, than it is for you to go there and find yourself stuck in some ESUN prison or hanging from a gallows." "They don't do hanging anymore, Raydon. They haven't for a few hundred years." he refused to turn his gaze from the spectacle of space. Refused to turn his head and look at that handsome face. Refused to acknowledge the truth of what the other said, and refused, too, to consider the unsaid words that Raydon always seemed to imply, even without actually saying them. Perhaps it was in his eyes? Did his eyes say it? "Maybe not, but for you they may make an exception. Your not exactly flavor of the month, you know." "I know." softly. He knew all too well how unpopular he would be in the Earth Sphere. He had made his decision then and knew he must live with the consequences and he had made a decision now. The results of that, too, he would live with. While he was not now guided by visions of possibilities still he felt that he had no option. He had to go back. If the whispers were true, then he had no choice. He had given up too much to see it all go down into smoking ruin because he could not face what he had wrought with the lives sacrificed. Why were they dead and not he? A sigh. He did not have to see him to know that he shook his head with resignation. "Alright. I will make available to you transport to Earth, but I want you to know that you are making a mistake. You will not receive a warm reception, my friend." "About as warm as Barclay base was in deep winter. The penguins survived it. I can too.' A rough snort of laughter answered him. "You're an odd one, Milliardo Peacecraft. I don't begin to understand you, but I like a challenge, and you are a challenge I am willing to work on. I'm letting you go, but I will tell you that I see confinement ahead of you. I see confinement, but I also see that you will be back." "Maybe." // I will not come back. I will likely die this time. I can not see beyond the darkness.// "There is no maybe involved." his voice was deep and rich and seemed to fill the room, though he spoke barely above a whisper. "Not in this. I KNOW that you will return to Station One. I have seen you return to me. I have not seen the circumstances that bring you back here, I will admit that, but I have seen the end result. You coming back home. I will have you back on Station and I tell you now, that when you do return, I will not permit you to run off again. The next time you come, Station One will become your home. The Earth Sphere has to learn to take care of itself eventually." He scowled, almost turning, but resisted the urge. He could not afford to meet those eyes. He had a power to him that was so alluring. It had the potential to captivate him and he was terrified of that loss of control. "A prisoner here then. Here, instead of on Earth or in the colonies. What is the difference?" Quiet, exasperated sigh. "Milliardo, it is not my intention to hold you here, a captive. You don't belong anywhere in the Earth Sphere. There is no place there for you now. No place for your skills as a pilot and soldier. Those days are gone. They fear you too much to ever consider allowing you to return and run free of their control. That door is closed. Forever. You know it. Deep inside of you, you know it is the truth. If you go back I can FEEL that there will be trouble and that for you there will be heartache." "So what is new about that?" Trouble and heartache were not strangers to him. He had known them since he was six years old. He and they were old companions. A quiet curse, mumbled and sigh of exasperation, but he would try again. "You have an ability that you are going to have to learn about. You can't do that as a prisoner on Earth, Milliardo. You can't learn what you need to know without help. Who there do you know can offer you that help? We have separated ourselves from the Earth Sphere because there was no place for us there. We are outside their confined La Grange point borders. We are independent and free of their rule. They did not want us, so we claim our freedom and independence. You need that too, my friend. No doubt the Earth Sphere would consider us otherwise, if they knew we existed, but that bridge we will cross one day. For now, what is important to you, is that there are others here who share something of the abilities Epyon woke in you. You have met some of us. None of us have your exact gift, true. Not the same abilities, but the general gift and its potential is the same. We are not like the others who live in their little orbiting islands of metal, endlessly revolving around that great hunk of rock and water that is the Earth. We are not the same as those who live on that green rock that gave rise to our species. It is a simple truth that you have yet to accept. My friend, no matter how much you wish it, you, like us, can no longer be considered normal. We have accepted that. It took longer for some of us, admittedly, but in the end, we had no choice but to acknowledge it. You'll find better acceptance here than anywhere else. I'll do everything in my power to see that some control is established for you and you should not doubt that I will protect you. From all comers." "For what payment?" He was different. He could not help but know it. He had used those differences to bring about peace on the Earth and to the colonies, and in doing so he had earned his sisters hatred and perhaps that was the hardest thing of all to endure. She was the only family he had had left and she hated him. "I have no need of money. Look around you. This is Station One. Only one of the bases from which we now operate. None of us who have accepted that we are outcasts from the Earth Sphere want for any need being unfulfilled. Money is not an issue here." "Then what pays for my safety here, Raydon? What do I have to do to earn safety here?" "I want you." softly, deepening voice, mellow with desire. The large hand picked up a heavy lock of platinum silk and rubbed it lightly against his cheek, savoring the silky touch and the scent that was unique to the blonde who could mean so much to him. If he won him. "I'll give you my kingdom, Prince of Sanc. I'll give it all to you, and I will be your slave, if you'll only agree..." "No." a whisper as loud as a thunderclap. Silence, heavy with implication and then the low laugh. A deep rumble in the chamber. "Yes. Yes, you have to be courted. Won, not just claimed. You are well worth courting. I'll let you fly away, too, because you will be back. You have to have freedom, my Eagle. Freedom to prove your wings and freedom to prove to yourself that the door is closed on your past. Even when you do come back, I'll have to remember that. There can be no cage for you. That's where Kushrenada made his mistake. He caged you in protocol and formality and tied you into a military cage of deceit and blood. You were never meant to be a soldier, either as Zechs Marquise or as Milliardo Peacecraft. You have wings, and you need to soar. I'll teach you to fly, when you come back." "I'm not a pirate, Raydon." "Does my being King of the Raiders bother you? We will deal with that, too, my Prince, when you return. Hell, for you I will speed along the advent of our respectability." "I won't return here." softly. Firm in his denial. Denying the confident voice was his only defense against the man, because he knew his return was, indeed, an option. A possibility for if he did find all doors closed to him, where else would he have to go? He had no Sight. He had lost it in the darkness he had been certain was his death. He was alone in what he chose. Alone and he was afraid. "Your Sight will lead you back here. I have no doubt that it will not be blinded from you forever. It does not work that way. You are wrong in your belief that what you see originated in Epyon. It is no part of a machine, even one as unique as Epyon was intended to be. It is a part of you, conceived when you were conceived and born when you were born. Epyon only awoke it and worked with it. You can belong here, Prince of Sorrows." hands lightly tangled in silver white tresses, caressed gently. The voice was a low murmur, tempting, soothing. "All you have to do is let yourself go, and give yourself to me." Lips touched warm skin, just below his ear and a moist tongue... "No." A sigh, but the mouth was gone and Raydon took a step back, to give the illusion of distance to his invasion of personal space. "Ah, well, not today, at least. One day. We will talk when you return to Station One. To expedite that day I will give you a transmitter. You may use it when you realize that you have no where else to turn. No where else to run. It will happen, Milliardo. For those of us Gifted, it always happens. I don't need the Sight to know that. My ships and their affiliates are always prowling the space lanes, so I doubt that more than three or four days would separate your calling with an answering presence. I will alert all of my captains to watch for you. You will find that I have a very long arm, My Prince and that I have many eyes. I look forward to your return. There will be transport to take you to Earth available in the morning rotation. Dine with me tonight? Don't refuse me this, at least, Milliardo. It will only be dinner that I ask of you." * -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ice blue eyes widened in memory, stunned. So simple. So impossibly simple, but maybe too late. "Shit. I forgot the transmitter."
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