In Loving Memory

All mothers are special to their children, but we’re sure that we had the best. Not only was she caring, nurturing, and compassionate, but she knew everything. From cold remedies to candy-making to creating something wonderful from practically nothing, she was realistic, yet inventive. Mom was thrifty with finances, but never with her love. She had four children who all had very different personalities, and she always knew just what each child needed. She made each of us feel unique, important, and heard. She did not divide her love between us, but multiplied it to encompass every part of our lives. Mom was absolutely beyond comparison. The time she spent with us was far too short, but the lessons she taught us and the impression she left on us will last forever. Mom, we miss you and love you more than words could say, but you will always be in our hearts.

Our Hope

Nine days ago, after six years fighting cancer, my mother took her last breath in this life and her first breath in the next. No sane person would begrudge her new citizenship, but there is a Mom-shaped hole in my heart now. Nothing will ever be the same.

Inevitable
Expected
Foreseen
Thoroughly anticipated
This did not strike from the darkness.
It was not a shock.
And yet—
It was.
It’s like watching a slow motion punch coming at your face.
You can see it coming;
You know it’s coming;
And yet when it connects it doesn’t hurt any less for that knowledge.
And hurt it does.
She’s with God.
My head knows that,
Yet my heart grieves.
We were prepared,
And yet we weren’t,
For who can prepare for something like this?
It is impossible:
It strikes at our core,
The part of us that denies reality,
That says, “it will never happen,”
While our surface thoughts pretend that we knew it would happen all along.
And as it strikes that core,
A little part of us is torn away.
The part that became intertwined,
Entangled,
Dependent upon
That person’s life.
And that little part can never be replaced.
Scar tissue will cover it,
Scar tissue will mask its removal,
Scar tissue will hide the hole,
Even as scar tissue boldly declares the absence of the original.
It staggers you.
It affects your entire body;
Not just your emotional well-being,
Your spiritual, your physical, your mental well-being.
It makes you want to curl up in a corner
And cry and cry and cry
Until no more tears will come,
Until the tears have washed away the pain and the sorrow,
Until the tears have washed away the grief and the anguish,
Until the tears have washed away the gaping hole.
But they can never wash it all away.
If the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the anguish ever totally disappeared
Then the memory would be gone.
And that is the last thing that holds them to us.
The pain, the sorrow, the grief, the anguish will fade,
But God forbid they vanish.
They will ebb,
But God forbid they disappear.
Life becomes meaningless.
Reality becomes a joke.
For how can one go on when one is only partly there?
How can one laugh when the source of laughter has departed?
How can one continue a regular existence when existence has lost its life?
Only God knows.
And yet—
We do.
We continue.
We are.
We exist.
Carrying on, trying to fill the hole, looking to God for mercy and strength,
Trying not to feel,
Never daring to hope to heal,
As the world spins around us
A mockery of what it was.
Bland and colorless,
Threatening to leave us behind
If we cannot keep up.
The world never understands.
We can only trust and follow
When trusting and following are hardest;
Accepting His will
When we don’t understand;
Believing His word
When it isn’t what we want to hear;
And try to rest in His assurance
When rest is the hardest.
We are following in the dark
Searching for the light
And committing ourselves to His everlasting care.
And always praying that we too,
Like those who have gone before us,
Shall see Him in His glory
And His power,
Surrounded by those who have lived faithfully and righteously—
And those who have left us to see Him—
Forever
This is our hope
And this hope is enough

Diplomatic Relations (Pt 10)

{The post you've all been waiting for...}

“All right,” Dara said once the pilots had changed from their Stawlian uniforms to their New Republic dress uniforms. “Are we ready to move? Redding, did you call Raven?”

“I did.” Redding flipped through a stack of data disks and pulled out the ones he needed. “There’s a problem.”

“No,” Dog said flatly.

Dara eyed him. “No, there is no problem?”

“No,” Dog repeated, “there can’t be a problem. We’re too close to getting off this ridiculously paranoid planet for there to be any problems.”

“Hush,” Dara ordered. “Redding, what is the problem?”

“She’s not answering. I keep getting directed to a messaging service.”

Dara considered. “That’s a problem.”

“Yes.”

“Not a big problem, but a problem.”

“Yes.”

“Do we know where she’s going to be?”

“We know that the diplomatic vessel is going to be at the spaceport. We know where she is being held. Technically, we could drive the route between the spaceport and where she is and look for her.”

“Not a great plan.”

“No.”

“But it is a plan.”

“We should be able to find her, yes.”

“Worst case scenario, we meet her at the spaceport.” Dara’s voice clearly indicated that she was ready to leave, with or without a plan.

“Look,” Dog interrupted. “Can we go already?”

Dara laughed and waved them all towards the door. “All right. We’ll start with her lodgings. Let’s go.”

~

Dog was already in the speeder, Redding and Jayem were on their way to join him. Dara stopped in the computer room where Josh and Marna were finishing dismantling the last computer.

“Two safe houses ruined in a week. I guess I should apologize,” Dara said.

Marna shook his head and came over to where she stood. “No,” he insisted, clasping her hand warmly. “I can’t thank you and your pilots enough for what you’ve done. Not just for me, but for all of the Fringe. You’ve given them confidence that they desperately needed.”

“I was just returning the favor,” she countered. “You and your organization saved our lives and Diplomat Raven’s reputation. Getting you out was the least we could do.”

“We’ll never forget you and your team, Dara,” Josh said.

“I hope you do,” Dara smiled. “I hope the Fringe does so many amazing things that you won’t be able to remember us at all. I’ll be waiting to hear of a regime shift on Stawl.”

“In time,” Marna said quietly. “Thank you again.” He and Josh walked her to the door.

“We can give you twenty minutes,” Dara said. “Maybe a little more than that, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“We can work with twenty minutes,” Josh said. “We’ll be out of here in five.”

“Excellent.” Dara clasped his hand, then Marna’s. “Good luck.”

“Goodbye, Dara,” Marna said. “Be careful.”

“And you, also,” she replied. She offered him a crisp, military salute, then left the room.

She nearly walked right into Zack, who had been waiting just outside the room. She smiled and stepped back. “It was great working with you, Zack. You’ve got good instincts. Make Josh let you use them.”

Zack nodded, abruptly wrapped her in a bone-crushing embrace, then, just as suddenly, released her. He stammered something that sounded like “thank you, then hurried away, beet red.

Dara, looking rather dazed, turned to Redding, who was leaning against a wall, watching with an amused expression. “What was that about?”

“He’s only nineteen, Dara. Still just a kid. You rescued his hero, so that makes you a hero, too.” Redding grinned.

Dara flushed a dull, embarrassed crimson. “But I don’t like heroes,” she commented as she brushed past him on her way to the speeder.

Redding chuckled and followed.

“Come on, Dara,” Jayem complained when they ran into the garage and jumped into the speeder. “We’ve been waiting for hours!”

Dara laughed at him. “Calm down. Everyone ready?” Upon receiving affirmative responses, she nodded to Dog. “Go.”

~

Dara’s instinct to start at Raven’s lodgings proved to be correct. They arrived to see a small crowd gathered, consisting of Raven, a handful of grim New Republic soldiers, some pompous State officials and their guards, and at least two dozen curious bystanders. Since this was apparently a State function, the laws against citizens congregating in groups larger than ten obviously did not apply. One particularly pretentious bureaucrat was standing at a podium, lecturing about the need for integrity in galactic diplomacy. Raven’s face was tight with stress and some of her authoritative bearing was lacking. When Dog pulled the speeder closer, the crowd turned to look.

Dog had taken down the speeder’s cover, so that everyone assembled could plainly see the occupants. Whispering and pointing began as people started to recognize them. Dara stood up as the bureaucrat paused uncertainly in his speech.

“People of Stawl,” Dara called loudly as her pilots lounged beside her, hands on blasters. “I am Major Daramis Mcejo. You requested representatives of the New Republic Starfighter Command. We came. And then your government tried to kill us.” There was a slight rumble of shock and displeasure from the crowd, and Dara continued, raising her voice. “They tried to kill us, and they killed hundreds of your own people in the attempt. Not only that, but they dared to blame it on our own diplomat. The State lied to us, the State falsely accused an agent of the New Republic, and the State is lying to you.”

The people began to shift restlessly, looking at each other, then at Dara, at the bureaucrat, and back at Dara. The guards glanced around uneasily, unsure of what to do. The bureaucrat was white and trembling with fury, gripping the sides of his podium fiercely.

“Impostors!” he shouted as he stabbed an accusing finger toward the pilots. “The New Republic pilots are dead! These are frauds, trying to shake your faith in your government!”

Standing slightly behind him, backed by six New Republic soldiers, Raven gaped in a rather undiplomatic manner, the beginnings of hope easing the strain around her eyes.

“Is he talking about us?” Redding asked lazily.

“I believe he is,” Jayem yawned.

“Arrest them!” the official yelled, and his guards snapped to attention. They began moving purposefully towards the pilots.

“Us again?”

“Us again,” Dara confirmed, keeping a close eye on the guards. She waited until they were less than ten meters away, then, “Dog, go!” They roared away, leaving behind spluttering Stawlian officials faced with the daunting task of controlling an irate crowd.

The guards gaped dumbfounded, as if disbelieving that anyone would actually run from them, and then doubled back to their speeders to give chase, leaving the pilots with a nice head start.

“You know where you’re going, right?” Dara asked Dog conversationally as she glanced over her shoulder.

Dog shrugged and increased speed. “More or less. But we need to give Marna time to get away, right?”

“Right.”

“Then let’s do some sightseeing.”

“Funny,” Jayem said sarcastically.

“No, I’m serious,” Dog grinned. “We need to lead the guards on a wild-goose chase so they’re distracted.”

“Just don’t get us caught,” warned Dara as she settled back to enjoy the ride.

Dog was an artist at the controls of any vehicle, and the Stawlian military speeder was no exception. His handling of the machine was impeccable, and the guards behind them were hard pressed to keep up. Dog had to slow down once or twice in order not to lose them. They did get a full tour of the capitol, though none of them knew what they were looking at.

“I am thoroughly unimpressed,” Jayem yawned. “Are we done yet?”

“Almost,” Dog called back. “The spaceport’s a few blocks away.”

“They’re gaining now,” Redding warned, hanging on to the side of the speeder as Dog made a hard right.

“Forget about it,” Dog yelled over the noise of the engine. “Two more turns and we jump.”

“We what?” Jayem demanded, sitting up straight.

“I can’t slow down, can I?” retorted Dog. “I’ll give the speeder a collision course and we get out of here.”

“We’re doing it, Jayem,” Dara commanded. “No more questions.”

Jayem scowled, but braced himself.

“Ready….” Dog threw the speeder into the first turn.

“Still behind us,” Redding reported.

Dog pulled the speeder hard to the left. “Now!” he shouted.

Redding jumped, hit the ground, and rolled, followed immediately by Jayem and Dog. Then Dara jumped and was struck with the sinking realization that her landing would be off. She unsuccessfully tried to correct in midair, but she hit the ground hard and her ankle folded inward. Rolling out of the street and toward a wall, she tried to stand. Her leg buckled, protesting violently at the pressure on her ankle. Pain pounded through the joint and she gritted her teeth.

“Blast!” she ground out, bracing herself against the wall.

Instantly, Jayem was at her side, taking her weight and pulling her to cover just as the guards sped past, not yet realizing their error. Redding and Dog scanned the area with their blasters. Half-carrying, half-supporting Dara, Jayem went to the door and keyed it open. Relief swept over the group at the sight of their X-wings, undamaged and lined up in a precise row. Dara also noticed two guards lying in a corner of the hangar, still unconscious, still bound and gagged.

She looked up at Jayem. “Nobody noticed?”

He grinned. “Apparently not.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said optimistically, thinking that this could be the first true moment of good fortune during the entire Force-forsaken mission. “All right, people, let’s move!”

Dara was amazed and pleased when they discovered that all of their personal belongings were neatly stacked in a corner, including their flight suits. That meant they wouldn’t have to rendezvous with the diplomatic vessel before breaking atmosphere. The four pilots suited up in record time, despite Dara’s trouble with her ankle.

Dog had a huge grin on his face as he pulled his helmet on, so thrilled was he to be leaving Stawl. Redding and Jayem were unsuccessful at hiding their smiles, as well. Dara couldn’t deny a profound sense of relief, tempered by the pain in her joint. Redding helped Dara into her X-wing before climbing up into his own ship.

Dara switched on her comm. “Call out, boys.”

“Four green, Lead,” Jayem replied promptly.

“All good, Lead,” Dog said, practically on top of Jayem’s transmission. “Can we go already?”

“Three in the green, number two engine at eighty percent,” Redding reported.

“Are you worried about that, Four?” Dara asked.

“Not a bit, Lead. Let’s go!”

A new voice broke into their frequency. “Unauthorized pilots, this is Control. You are in a restricted zone. Power down your engines immediately.”

Dara laughed outright. It was not a pleasant laugh. “This is Major Daramis Mcejo of New Republic Starfighter Command,” she said grimly. “I suggest you raise the hangar doors before we blow them off.” She addressed her squad: “S-foils in attack position.”

Four pairs of wings split horizontally and slowly lifted apart, giving the fighters the shape for which they were named. Then the crafts gently elevated, stopping to hover about a meter from the ground.

“Unauthorized pilots,” the voice sounded a little worried now, “power down immediately!”

“Sorry, we’re done with diplomacy. On my mark, gentlemen. Three, two—“

“Wait!” The voice was now frantic. “We are raising the hangar doors now.”

“You have fifteen seconds, Control. We’re leaving either way.”

Ten seconds passed, and nothing happened. Then a strong male voice came over the comm. “Unauthorized pilots, this is Captain Zarn of the State Security Division. You are ordered by the State to stand down.”

“Mark,” was Dara’s quiet reply.

Sixteen lasers in quad-linked bursts fired simultaneously, reducing the hangar doors to so much melted slag. Alarms sounded and the side doors burst open to admit two squads of State soldiers.

“Shields up,” Dara ordered, setting an example. “Let’s go home, boys.”

“Right behind you, Major,” Redding said.

One after another, the four X-wings slipped out of the gaping hole in the hangar doors. Stawlian soldiers opened fire on the starfighters, the lasers from their blasters splashing ineffectually against the shields. The X-wings gracefully arced up into the sky and headed for the diplomatic ship that was also lifting from the ground.

When they reached comm range, Dara hailed the ship. “Diplomatic vessel, this is Major Daramis Mcejo. Do you need an escort?”

There was a brief pause, then: “Major Mcejo, this is Captain Leo of Diplomatic vessel Horizons. It is good to hear your voice! Is that the rest of your team with you?”

“As improbable as it may seem, we are all present and accounted for.”

“Best news we’ve had all week,” Captain Leo said with absolute sincerity. “We accept your offer of an escort. Transmitting our course to you now.”

“Escort formation,” Dara directed her pilots, and the X-wings slid neatly into position.

“Hopefully we won’t need an escort,” the captain continued, “but we did leave a lot of really upset Stawlians back there.”

“Perhaps,” Dara replied with a smile. “But we left quite a few happy ones, as well.”

“Diplomat Raven sends her congratulations on your survival. And her regrets that such an unorthodox departure was necessary.”

“That’s quite all right. It was the most action my team has seen all week, and they needed the outlet.”

“No kidding, Major Mother,” Dog cut in.

Normally, Dara would have called for less chatter, but this time she let her pilots fall into easy, lighthearted banter over the comm. She was just glad to be going home.

A new voice filled her cockpit, that of the Horizon’s navigator. “Lightspeed in sixty seconds. Fifty…forty…thirty….”

Dara listened absently to the countdown and sent her starfighter hurtling into the blue and white vortex of hyperspace on the navigator’s mark. They would be making the trip in a series of jumps. She estimated she had a little over two hours before their first reversion—plenty of time for a light nap. After checking in with her R2 unit and setting an alarm to wake her in an hour and a half, Dara settled back into the seat, making herself as comfortable as possible, and drifted into a light doze, trying still to ignore the steady throb of pain from her ankle.

~

Today

Dara had never found words adequate enough to describe how she felt upon returning from a mission with everyone still alive. Relieved wasn’t quite intense enough, neither was satisfied, or even pleased. A warm, contented feeling washed over her and she felt the knot of tension that had settled in her neck and shoulders loosen as Commenor, the planet their squadron currently called home, expanded to take over her viewport. After twelve hours of hyperspace jumps, they were finally back.

“Welcome home, Major Mcejo,” Captain Leo said and was met with cheers from her squad. Dara just leaned back in her chair and grinned like an idiot.

“You got nothing to say, Major Mother?” Dog asked.

“Too happy for words,” she replied.

“That would be a first,” Redding joked.

“Hush,” she said without reproach. “Tighten up your positions. We are an escort.”

The four pilots brought their X-wings into precise formation. None of them wanted anyone who might be watching to think their flying had gotten sloppy while they were on Stawl. Captain Leo gave them landing coordinates, and the cruiser angled toward the west side of the base. The X-wings peeled off and headed to a hangar in the south quadrant. The hangar was largely empty, but the moment they settled their ships down and cut the engines, the hangar flooded with an excited, beaming, swarm of men and women in uniform.

Redding, Jayem, and Dog popped their hatches and scrambled out of their fighters. Instead of jumping down from her X-wing, Dara waited for the mechanics to bring over a ladder. She also accepted the hands extended to help her down. The guys were exchanging handshakes and backslaps and accepting congratulations. A major from their partner squadron was waiting for Dara. He saluted, not even trying to hide his smile.

“Major Mcejo, it is a pleasure to see you and your team again.”

“Major Ondel, I cannot tell you how much the feeling is mutual.” She returned the salute and the smile, then looked around. The hangar was buzzing with people, but she only saw about half of Valor Squadron and she didn’t see her commander at all. “Where’s Rogue?”

“We haven’t told him.” Major Ondel’s smile spread into a mischievous grin. “All he knows is that Diplomat Raven was to return today.”

“So…Rogue doesn’t know we’re alive?” She leaned against a crate to keep weight off her injured ankle.

“No. He’s been depressed and grouchy ever since you died. We figured he wouldn’t believe us if we told him.”

“Well,” Dara laughed, “it’s nice to know we were missed. I suppose we should go show our faces so that he can sleep tonight.” She motioned her team to join her. “Let’s report in.”

~

“And then we came here, sir.” Dara leaned back in her chair and spread her hands. “And here we are.”

They had gathered a crowd. Rogue’s office was filled with Valor Squadron pilots and the hallway contained many members of other squadrons who couldn’t resist their curiosity. Dara had done most of the reporting, but Dog, Jayem, and Redding had interjected as they wanted. It was a thorough, if a bit casual, report.

There was a smattering of applause and shouts of congratulations as the other pilots began to disperse. When the room was clear, Dog stood and saluted.

“Permission to go eat, sir?”

Rogue smiled and nodded. “By all means. Dismissed.”

Jayem and Redding jumped up, gave salutes of their own, and followed Dog out of the office, leaving Rogue and Dara alone.

“I think I might join them, sir. All we’ve had is field rations in our X-wings since breakfast on Stawl. And I’m pretty sure that was yesterday.” Dara levered herself out of her chair and balanced precariously on one foot.

“You’re going to get that taken care of, yes?”

Dara made a face. “Yes, sir,” she said with a reluctance that stemmed from her dislike of visiting the medbay.

“And then get some sleep.”

She brightened at that. “As ordered.” She limped carefully to the door, turned, and saluted. “It’s good to be back, sir.”

“It’s good to have you back, Dara. All of you.”

“Thank you. And, sir?”

“Yes?”

“If I ever get volunteered to lead a diplomatic mission again, I’m resigning.”

He laughed. “Understood. I’ve already discussed it with Command.”

She grinned and opened the door.

“Oh, by the way,” he called, arresting her motion and drawing her gaze back. “You’ll get me your report? I’d like to go over it before Diplomatic Corps gets it.” He was surprised when she blushed.

“I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow evening.”

Rogue looked confused. “Wasn’t there a report you were updating throughout this whole fiasco?”

Dara grinned sheepishly. “Yes,” she admitted, “there was. But… I left it on Stawl.”

~Fin~

Diplomatic Relations (Pt 9) (revised)

Redding was absolutely focused on his screen, watching the feed from the security cameras. Jayem leaned in over his shoulder.

“Have they arrived yet?”

Redding shook his head. “Any minute now, I think.”

“How long ‘til they get back?’

“Thirty minutes, if everything goes according to plan.”

“Good. I think I’ll get some air.” Jayem straightened and left the room.

Redding frowned, but the monitors quickly reclaimed his attention. That is, until he heard the front door open and slam, then the roar of a speederbike. Redding’s head snapped up, and he was out of his seat so fast the chair tipped over. He sprinted to the window just in time to see Jayem disappear down the street. Redding slammed his fist against the wall and called his squadmate eight kinds of idiot. But there was nothing he could do. Fighting back his frustration, he returned to his computers and watched Zack get cleared through the front gate.

~

Zack handed the guard on duty his ID card. Watching out of the tinted windows, Dara was impressed by how comfortable and natural he looked. He wasn’t overly nonchalant, and neither was he jumpy and nervous. He seemed to be having a casual conversation with the guard and was careful to keep his face turned away when two other guards brought Marna in and led him to the speeder.

Dog leaned over and opened the door of the speeder. Dara also turned her head away so that Marna couldn’t react immediately. He would recognize her, he might not recognize Dog. She watched in the reflection of the window as Marna climbed in, looking haggard and a little dejected. Then her gut clenched as the two guards climbed in after him and sat opposite. That was not in the plan.

Dog glanced casually at Dara, then returned to staring out the window. Dara knew that any drastic action now would be noticed. They would have to wait until they cleared outer security. Marna chose that moment to raise his head and look around the speeder. His eyes widened when he saw Dara. Fortunately, he had enough presence of mind not to react. He looked from her to Dog, whom he did not recognize immediately, and confusion creased his forehead. Dara surreptitiously lowered one eyelid to reassure him, then rubbed her eye a second later, in case one of the guards had seen.

Zack did not say a word when he got back in the speeder. That told Dara that he had seen the guards and knew not to celebrate just yet. Dog and Dara exchanged a meaningful glance as Zack drove the speeder out of the transfer area. Marna was trying to hide his confusion, and the other two guards just looked bored.

Dara felt a drop of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. The two guards weren’t supposed to be here. It wouldn’t take much for them to guess that something was not right and raise the alarm. Only her previous undercover experience kept her face calm and unworried, and she was sure the same went for Dog. She kept her breathing even and managed to match the bored expressions on the guards’ faces.

Then the guard on Marna’s left glanced at Dara, then seemed to really see her. A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said.
“How long—”

With the precision of two squadmates that had worked together for years, Dara and Dog drew their blasters and fired simultaneously. The wave of blue from the stun beams washed over the two guards and they slumped in their seats. Marna’s eyes widened with shock.

Zack’s head swiveled around and he gaped.

“Turn around, Zack,” Dara ordered. “We still have to get out of here. Stick to the plan.”

“Zack’s here?” Marna asked incredulously. He still hadn’t absorbed the idea of being rescued.

“Yes, sir,” Zack said. “And we’re on our way to meet Josh.”

Three minutes later, they had cleared outer security. No one so much as glanced twice at Zack’s ID badge or into the speeder. The guards all wore the same bland expression that spoke of utter boredom. But it was after they drove through the gates that the next difficult part began: they had to make a military speeder disappear before the State realized that Marna hadn’t arrived for his court date.

“Zack, did you disable the speeder’s homing beacon yet?” Dara demanded as she snapped binders on her unconscious guard.

“Working on it,” Zack called, his voice now tight with frustration.

“I’ll help him,” Dog said, finishing with his guard and clambering into the front seat.

“Dara—“ Marna began.

She smiled reassuringly at him. “You saved us, we’re saving you. Turnabout’s fair play.”

“Got it,” Dog called triumphantly.

“Excellent,” Dara said. “Are we being followed?’

“Negative.”

“Daramis,” Marna tried again.

“Relax,” she said calmly. “We’ve done this sort of thing before.”

“How?” was all he could say.

“Actually,” she admitted, “it wasn’t that hard. The State is all talk and no security systems. Redding found a way to feed false orders to the computers, we got our hands on an ID card, and your people had uniforms. Then we bribed a speeder from some mechanics, and here we are.”

Marna shook his head in disbelief. “You embarrass us. We did not know this kind of thing could be done.”

“And we didn’t know the State planned to blow us to smithereens,” she replied cheerfully. “Shall we call it even?”

“We’re clear,” Dog reported. “Major?”

Dara looked down at the guards lying on the floor of the speeder. They were a problem. Sooner or later they would wake up; they couldn’t be killed; it was far too risky for them to be taken prisoner. She shrugged, then said, “Let’s get to the rendezvous. No need to let Josh worry any more than he would anyway.”

~

As Zack had predicted, the Old Square was deserted. The few shops were boarded up and no one was there. Josh and Stella had parked the speeder in a small alcove between two stores, neatly out of the way. They were waiting when Zack pulled up next to them. Dog opened the door and got out first, scanning the area before motioning for Marna to join him.

Astonishment flashed across Josh’s face, quickly smothered with excitement and relief, and Dara knew that he had still had lingering doubts about their chances of success. She allowed herself a small smile as she jumped out of the speeder. Josh clapped Marna on the shoulder while shaking his hand. No words were exchanged, but there were volumes in that simple gesture.

“Get Marna in the speeder,” Dog said, interrupting the reunion. “We don’t want him out in the open more than necessary.”

Josh immediately guided Marna into the speeder. Zack jumped out to stand next to Dara and Dog.

“Do we ditch the speeder?” he wanted to know. “Or do we take it back?”

“Neither,” Dog answered. “It’s now our getaway vehicle.”

“What?” Zack’s confusion was plain.

“You need a distraction to get Marna out of town, right?”

Zack nodded, still puzzled.

“Well, we’re going to make one.” Dog sauntered towards the waiting speeder, whistling.

“Dog, wait,” Dara said. She caught up with him and held a whispered conference. Dog listened, nodded, and then an eager, enthusiastic gleam appeared in his eyes. Zack looked quizzically at Dara, who merely shrugged and got in the speeder after Dog. Zack followed.

“Get in the front seat,” Dara told the young Fringe driver. “We don’t want to risk the guards seeing you.” She was relieved when he obeyed without a word of protest.

The two guards were lying on the floor of the speeder still, face down, binders keeping their hands behind their backs. One of the them groaned and shifted. Dog crouched next to him, holding the guard’s blaster loosely in his hands. The guard blinked slowly and tried to lift his head. Dog shoved his head back down, forcing him to strain to see Dog out of the corner of his eye. His face was filled with terror and his breath quickened.

He was a guard, Dara reminded herself, not a soldier. He would have neither experience nor training for this sort of situation. That made Dog’s part a lot easier, and she hoped he wouldn’t overdo it. She settled into a seat, just within the guard’s line of sight, and scowled.

The guard grunted again, as if trying to speak.

“Shut up,” Dog growled. “She already wants to kill you,” he jerked his head at Dara, “don’t make it worse.”

The terrified guard followed the gesture, saw Dara’s expression, and paled. He pressed his lips tightly together in a silent attempt to let Dog know he wouldn’t say a word.

Zack stared over his shoulder at Dog in shock. “You can’t—”

Dara made a sharp, chopping motion with her hand and Zack turned back around, swallowing the rest of his protest. Dog shot him a withering glare, then looked back at the guard.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said, “my boss isn’t happy. You got in our way. You weren’t supposed to be there. Two guards for prisoner transfer, not four. And yet, you and your friend jump on in. Now she’s thinking, you did it on purpose, trying to stop us, wanting to be heroes.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “She doesn’t like heroes.”

All blood had drained from the guard’s face, leaving him ashen and sweating. He shook his head, frantically trying to deny what Dog said. Dara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Dog was really laying it on thick.

“I think I can convince her not to kill you. At least, I’ll try,” he amended in a whisper. “But I’ll be risking my own neck.”

Gratitude filled the poor guard’s face as he dared to hope. Dog suppressed a scornful look and moved over next to Dara. The speeder was large enough that he actually took two steps, far enough that a hushed conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the guards.

“How am I doing?” Dog asked quietly.

Dara raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I don’t like heroes?” she asked, equally softly.

Dog gestured vaguely. “I’m improvising.”

“I noticed,” she replied dryly. “Then maybe I should improvise too,” she threw back, making her voice sound angry. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guard cringe as he heard the tone, but not the words.

“I always knew there was a thespian in you,” Dog replied, straight-faced.

Dara flicked her hand toward him in an exasperated gesture. “Fine,” she said, raising her voice, “Do what you will, then.”

Dog flashed her a quick smile and whispered back, “I always do.”

He returned to where the guard lay, noting the gratitude on his face.

“Thank you!” the guard said with intense feeling.

“Quiet,” Dog snapped. “Or she’ll change her mind.”

The guard shut his mouth abruptly.

“But there’s still a problem,” Dog continued. “We can’t take you with us. There’s a hundred of us heading west tomorrow morning and we can’t be bothered with you two. But we can’t just let you go free, either.” He frowned in concentration, then appeared to make up his mind. “So here’s what’s going to happen. We’ll dump you here, out of the way, unhurt,” he said with reluctance, and the guard sighed with relief. “You promise not to make a fuss and get yourselves into trouble, and we won’t have to track you down again.” He brought his face very close to the guard’s. “Understand?” he asked flatly.

The guard nodded quickly, wide-eyed.

“All right, then.” Dog stood and looked at Dara. “Let’s get them out of here.”

Dara shook her head with mock-irritation, but joined him in dragging the second to the door. She jumped out, checked for witnesses, then waved Dog out. They hauled the still-unconscious guard out first, then Dog pulled the other guard to his feet and helped him out of the speeder.

There was a narrow, shadowed alley between two of the buildings, and some convenient crates lay about a dozen paces in. Dara clamped her hand around the standing guard’s shoulder and firmly guided him into the alley. Dog half-carried, half-dragged the second guard and dumped him behind the boxes, then glanced meaningfully at Dara’s prisoner, resting his hand on his blaster. Dara let go, and the guard hurried over and sat next to his friend on the ground.

“Remember: no heroics,” Dog said firmly. He glanced at the other guard, who was just beginning to stir. “Make sure he knows our agreement,” he added warningly.
The first guard hastily nodded. His color was returning, and he didn’t look half as frightened as he had earlier. Dara was certain he was beginning to entertain thoughts of being a hero. She hid a smirk and nudged Dog. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Right behind you.”

They left their captives without a backward glance. Dara looked over at the second speeder where Josh was eyeing them with a nervous expression. She gave him a reassuring smile and a thumbs up. He did not look reassured. Dara shrugged.

“What happens if they’re discovered?” Zack worried when the pilots were back in the speeder. “Or if they get away?”

Dog shrugged. “They think there’s a hundred people—a legion of soldiers, when those two are finished telling the story—vacating the capitol tomorrow morning. They won’t think to look for a single speeder leaving in less than an hour.”

“Please tell me Josh isn’t taking Marna west,” Dara remarked casually.

“Nope,” Dog replied. “I checked with Zack. They’re going east.”

Dara nodded, satisfied.

“Where to now?” Zack asked.

“Back to the safe house,” Dara said. “Park in the garage, out of sight of the street.

The two speeders meandered slowly back to the safe house, taking different routes. Josh parked outside right away, but Zack had to drive past the house three times before the street was empty of passerby who might notice the military speeder and wonder. He maneuvered smoothly into the garage and the door shut behind them. Zack, Dog, and Dara walked into the house, wearing satisfied expressions on their faces.

“Mission accomplished,” Dog announced proudly to Redding, who waited for them in the kitchen.

Then Dara noticed the dismal look on Redding’s face and how he refused to meet Dara’s eyes.

“Redding,” she said, her smile vanishing, “what happened?”

He squared his shoulders and met her eyes. “Jayem.”

“Did he blow something up?” Dara demanded.

“I don’t know. He’s gone.”

Dara stopped dead still. “What?”

“He left. About forty minutes ago.”

“Why? Where did he go?” she asked furiously.

“I don’t know,” Redding insisted. “He asked when you would be back, and the next thing I knew, he was out the door and driving down the street on one of the speederbikes they brought.”

Her expression was black and angry. “He left. Without a word.”

Redding nodded. “I would have stopped him.”

Dara didn’t reply. She stalked past, trailing fury and muttering darkly under her breath. Redding and Dog exchanged a look, then followed.

~

Fifteen minutes crawled by, and even they seemed to avoid Dara. She was now in a foul mood, growling about the lack of comlinks and Jayem’s unauthorized absence. Her pilots gave her plenty of room to pace and knew better than to ask questions. Dog posted himself at the front window as a lookout, while Redding helped Josh box up computer equipment.

“He’s coming!” Dog yelled across the house.

Dara stopped in mid-stride. She stood perfectly still for a moment, shut her eyes, and breathed deeply. When she opened her eyes, she had reined in her emotions until they no longer radiated from her like heat. Calmly, she went to the entrance hall and waited for Jayem, the other occupants of the house clustering behind her.

Dara’s face was a study in carefully controlled rage as Jayem strolled into the house. “Where have you been?” she bit out, each word articulated precisely.

He grinned. “The spaceport,” he answered.

Dara met his eyes levelly, but did not speak. Her lips pressed tightly together as the silence stretched. Jayem fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. Dog and Redding glanced at each other and edged a step or so away, just as every member of the Fringe left suddenly remembered tasks to be done in other rooms of the house.

“You left the safe house.” Her voice was soft and even, without even a tremor of anger to reveal her thoughts. “Alone. Without telling anyone.”

Jayem swallowed and managed, “Yes, ma’am.” He had a thousand things to say in his defense, but Dara was every inch his superior officer at that moment, and military protocol stilled his tongue.

Dara’s eyes flashed then, the first hint of the fierce emotion she was trying to clear from her judgment. “Of all the irresponsible, dangerous, ridiculous, idiotic things to do—” She broke off suddenly and took a deep, calming breath. “Why?” she demanded.

“I found our X-wings,” Jayem said, almost defensively.

Dara stopped short, any further words of chastisement abruptly dying. She glared fiercely at him for a full twenty seconds without saying anything. Jayem shifted his weight, unsure of what to expect. Finally, Dara heaved a sigh. “Consider yourself officially reprimanded,” she said wearily, “and never, ever do that again.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am!” he said enthusiastically, and for a moment, Dara actually believed him.

“Where are they?”

“In a hangar on the far west side of the spaceport,” he reported. “Just waiting for us to come and collect them.”

Dara’s eyes took on a faraway gleam, the gleam that meant she was planning something. Her squad waited. Then her gaze focused and she smiled slowly. “Listen up,” she said. “Here’s what we do.”

(to be concluded...)

Diplomatic Relations (Pt 8)

Yesterday

The dawn came hot and early. All traces of the storm that had drenched Stawl for the past few days were burned away under the bright sun. The members of the Fringe woke with the first rays of light. Their activity woke the pilots, who had learned to grab what sleep they could when they could, and who were not incredibly pleased about being woken hours before the start of the mission.

Never a fan of mornings, Dara set about her preparations silently, then disappeared into the kitchen to speak quietly with Josh. Jayem was also quiet, but he glared malevolently at everyone who came near, as if daring them to speak with him. Redding and Dog, after their initial grumbling, were a little more amiable and gave Jayem a wide berth, though Dog made more than one comment about how many hours there were still before they could leave.

In the kitchen, Dara leaned against the counter, her back to the window and the glaring sun. Josh, the only other person in the room, sat at the table a few feet away. He looked worried and pensive. Dara nibbled a corner of her pastry and watched him for a minute before speaking.

“It’ll be okay, Josh.”

He looked up, slightly startled, as if he had forgotten she was standing there. “What if the mechanics won’t give you the speeder?”

She shrugged. “Then we take it.”

“What if you’re stopped? What if the ID card is denied? What if you’re followed?”

Dara held up a hand to cut off the stream of what-ifs. “Then we’ll adapt,” she said calmly. “That’s our job. What you should worry about is what happens after we come back. Marna will be a fugitive. You’ll probably be looking at another Lock Down.”

Josh nodded. “Marna is going to be a non-person without identity papers. He won’t be able to stay here. We’ve had plans for getting him out, but we always thought they would be needed when a warrant came out for his arrest. We have a place for him outside the city, but we’ll need some time to get him there.”

“So, you’ll need a distraction.”

“It would help.”

Dara looked thoughtful. “I think we can come up with something. It won’t be very long, though. Get everything ready to go before we get back.”

Josh nodded gratefully. “We’ll be ready.”

In the living room, Jayem sat on the couch, glowering at everyone who walked by. Zack and Stella were the only ones who dared to enter the living room. Stella smiled at Jayem; Zack ignored him and walked over to the window.

“The rain’s gone,” he commented to Stella. “Sun’s out. That’s a good sign.”

Jayem snorted derisively. “Oh, please,” he said scornfully. “Don’t tell me you believe that meteorological patterns will have any sort of bearing on our mission.”

Zack shot him a withering glance and did not answer, but refused to leave.

The morning wore on. There were a dozen tasks to be finished, and even more when Josh announced they would be abandoning the safe house and everything needed to be ready to go before, and he said it resolutely avoiding the word “if,” Marna returned. There was an excited buzz of activity that followed, prompting a smile from Dara.

Dog’s mood improved every minute that passed, brining them closer to departure. Even Jayem’s fierce glower subsided, though he still spoke to no one. Eventually, he looked more thoughtful than anything. Redding ensconced himself in the computer room, and began to perfect the orders that he would be feeding to the Stawlian Capitol Detention Center computers. Dara made sure she had the copies of all the files the pilots would need to clear Raven and prove the State’s duplicity.

Two hours before they were supposed to leave, Redding, Dara, Josh, Dog, and Zack were all in the computer room. Jayem was off by himself, deep in thought and refusing to tell anyone what he was contemplating. Stella was organizing the packing of the speeders that would carry most of the contents of the safe house away before midday, leaving the others to go over the last minute details of the plan.

Zack was fidgety, just like a green pilot on his first mission. “Hey, Red, did you get the orders ready?”

Redding spared him a withering glare before continuing his work.

“What?” Zack asked, spreading his hands. “What did I say?”

Dara laughed. “He hates to be called Red,” she shared in a stage whisper. “He’s also offended that you would think he hasn’t done his job.”

“Oh.” Zack flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Redding nodded his forgiveness without taking his eyes from the computer screen.

“We have less than two hours before we leave,” Dara said. “Is everyone clear on where they need to be and what they’ll be doing?”

“I’m getting the military speeder from the mechanics,” Dog said. “Then I bring it to the cross street two blocks from here—”

“—where Dara and I will be waiting to join you,” Zack said. “We go to the Detention Center and get Marna. Then we go to the Old Square—”

“—to meet with Stella and myself,” Josh continued. “We return to the safe house to get the computer equipment—”

“—where I’ve been sitting, making sure nothing goes wrong,” Redding said. “We all meet, then Stella, Zack, Marna, and Josh leave the city—”

“—and then we finally get to go home!” Dog finished gleefully. The expression on his face plainly showed that he was more than done with Stawl and ready to leave.

Dara smiled proudly. “Just so,” she said. “Josh, do your people know what do when we leave?”

“Jayse and Donnal are taking the speeders, twenty minutes apart, to the new safe houses. Lyem is staying here to take Stella, Zack, Marna, myself, and the rest of the computer equipment out of town, on the chance that Zack is recognized.”

“And Redding showed you how to monitor security communications to find out if that happens?”

“Redding showed us all kinds of useful tricks,” Zack said happily. “We should be able to find out anything we want, wreak havoc with their systems and not get caught.”

Redding smirked, and Dara nodded approvingly.

“Everything in place, Redding?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he reported. “The speeder will be at the mechanic’s in an hour, I changed Marna’s departure to fit our timetable, and the rest of the orders are ready to go.”

“Good work.”

“I’m going to go check on the packing,” Josh said and left the room with Zack on his heels.

“Can I have a word, Dara?” Dog asked.

“Certainly. But only one.” She smiled, and they withdrew to a corner. “What’s on your mind?”

“We were talking last night—Jayem, Redding, and me—and we were wondering… what about our X-wings? And yes,” he said swiftly, seeing the teasing remark beginning to form, “I realize that was more than one word.”

Dara grinned unrepentantly, then sobered. “The State had them impounded. I’ve spoken with Marna and Josh about it, and their best guess is the spaceport, but that is only a guess. They’re certainly guarded, though.”

“Then…?” Dog spread his hands in an unspoken question.

“We won’t have time to look for them, Dog,” she said apologetically. “We’ll be cutting it close as it is. We’ll ship out with Raven and the diplomatic team, and let the New Republic try to get our starfighters back. I don’t like it either,” she said in response to the sour look on her comrade’s face. “But we don’t have much choice. Our movements are limited, even if we weren’t mounting a rescue operation.”

Despite his disgruntled expression, Dog nodded his understanding and rejoined Redding to pass along Dara’s answer.

The last thirty minutes dragged by even slower than the previous hours had. Everyone succumbed to eyeing their chronos every two minutes. All preparations were complete and there was little left to do but wait. Dara, Zack, and Dog were wearing the all-black outfits worn by the guards, to be supplemented by the official jackets that would complete the disguise when the moment came. Redding had all security camera feeds up to monitor their progress. Stella and Josh had prepped the other speeder and were ready to leave for the Old Square.

Finally, Dara gathered everyone in the entrance hall with five minutes left. Excited tension practically hummed in the air, and she saw a level of enthusiasm in the members of the Fringe that had not been there before. She looked around. “You all know what to do?” The handful of people around her all nodded eagerly. Dara grinned, a nasty feral grin that promised bad things for anyone who would dare get in her way. “Then let’s go.”

Her words brought about an instant flurry of activity. Redding and Lyem hurried back to the computer room; Jayse and Donnal went to the speeders, along with Josh and Stella; Dog headed out the front door on his way to the mechanic’s; and Dara and Zack followed him a minute later, appearing to be leaving for a leisurely stroll. Everyone was excited and nervous.

It took Dog fifteen minutes to walk to the shop. He was easily able to bribe the mechanics to let him borrow the speeder, promising to return it within two hours. He told them it was to win a bet with a long time rival. The mechanics couldn’t understand why it had been sent for maintenance in the first place and were happy to make some extra money, so they asked no questions.

Dog brought the speeder to the cross street where Zack and Dara waited, wearing the black uniforms of the Stawlian Guard, but with their jackets, and Dog’s, draped over their arms. Zack took the driver’s seat and Dog slid into the back with Dara. They all shrugged into their jackets and made the twenty minute trip in apprehensive silence.

The detention facility looked menacing with its sharp angles and hard surfaces. There was no landscaping, only harsh metal and duracrete. Zack swallowed hard; Dara noticed and laughed sympathetically.

“Just stick to the plan, Zack, and we’ll be out before it can bite you.”

Zack nodded and brought the speeder to a smooth stop before the guard stationed at the entrance. He managed to keep his expression neutral, almost bored, as he handed over his ID card and waited for clearance. The guard glanced idly in the back of the speeder, nodding to Dara and Dog, but did not comment. He returned the ID badge and waved them through. Zack nearly melted into his seat from relief.

“We’re not through yet,” Dara said quietly. “Keep it together.”

At that, Zack straightened. He guided the speeder to the building where the prisoner transfers were made. Then, taking a deep breath to steel himself, he got out of the speeder and walked to the guard on duty.

They had reached the point of the mission where nothing they could do would get them to Marna. They had to trust to Redding’s falsified orders, hope that the system hadn’t already corrupted them, and wait for the State to bring Marna to them. Dara and Dog let their hands rest on their weapons, just in case a hasty exit would be necessary, and waited.



(to be continued...)

Dream Seller

{Story inspired by the illustrations. Illustrations are by my friend David. Yes, I will eventually finish Diplomatic Relations.}
Dream Seller

The wagon rattled and rolled down the dusky street, its shape largely unassuming, but filled with just enough odd angles to catch the eye. The horse that pulled it was a tired, dappled grey mare that had seen better days. A tall, thin man was folded neatly into the bench on the front of the wagon and holding the reins loosely in his bony fingers. He wore a long grey coat, severely out of fashion, and a dark grey fedora pulled low on his brow. Most of his face was hidden in the shadow, but his jaw was a little squared beneath the thin slash of mouth.
Brightly colored, transparent crystal balls hung in ribbons from the roof of the wagon, bouncing and swaying as the wheels bounced across the cobblestones. Three particularly large balls were strung at the back of the wagon in a downward row. The front of the conveyance bore a sign that boldly proclaimed “Dreams for Sale.”
I regarded the sight with no small amount of skepticism. How could anyone sell a dream?

Despite myself, I gave into my curiosity. I slipped into a coat and left my house. The evening twilight was chilly, so I shoved my hands into my pockets as I hurried down the street, past rows of closed shops, after the sound of the wagon. Somehow, no matter how fast I walked, the wagon remained the same distance in front of me. Impossible, of course. I accounted it as a trick of the fading sunlight.
The streets were empty, save for myself and the strange man in the grey coat. The rest of the town were indoors by blazing fires to scare away the cold, starting supper and telling about their days. I had no one to tell my stories to, even if my days had been interesting enough to share. My supper could wait, and so I chased after a man who claimed he could sell dreams. At least it would break the monotony.
Tiring of being forever just behind, I finally broke into a run and caught up with the man just as he turned into an alleyway.
“Hold,” I pleaded, trying desperately to regain my breath. “I would speak with you.”
With slow, deliberate motion, he pulled back in the reins, bringing the mare to a halt. Then he climbed down from the wagon seat, every movement sure and precise, with no wasted effort. He faced me, and I saw he was easily a hand taller than I. Still, his face was so hidden in shadow from his hat and the dusk of the day that I could not see his eyes. His mouth was thin and tight, neither smiling nor frowning. I had the sudden urge to turn and run, but stalwartly held my ground, forcing my gaze to his shadowy face. When he spoke, his voice nearly creaked from lack of use. Like his movements, each word was measured and spoken slowly and with care.
“How may I assist you?” His request was barely louder than a whisper, and I had to step closer to hear. Standing that close gave me a chill.
“What are you selling?” I asked, wondering if he would reassert the ridiculous claim written across the side of the wagon.
“I sell Dreams.”
Those three words were spoken with such absolute conviction and the sensation of plain fact that, for a brief moment, I did not doubt them. Then my better sense prevailed and I nearly laughed. “What sort of dreams?”
“All sorts.” His tone gave no indication that he was aware of my skepticism. Each word rang with truth and finality. “Daydreams, Sweet Dreams, Grand Dreams, Impossible Dreams, Strange Dreams, and even screaming Nightmares. Whatever Dream you are looking for, I can sell you.”
“And these are the same sort of dreams that come to visit me when I sleep?” I wanted to know, looking for the catch.
“Some prefer to choose their dreams,” he said, a touch of reproof to his raspy voice, as if I were a student who had asked an unnecessary question.
Now I was more confused than disbelieving. It must have shown on my face, because he spoke again.
“Would you like a sample?”
Wordlessly, I nodded. I was curious, in spite of my better sense. If he was a con, I would summon the guards and have him run out of town. Though if he were a con man, he was the best I had ever seen. Most are fast-talking, slickly dressed, and eager to make a sale. If it were true…impossible, silly, and illogical, but a rebellious corner of my mind whispered that anything was possible.
He walked around to the back of his wagon, and I followed. He opened the door, and I could see that a small section contained a bed and supplies, but the rest was full of the same ropes of clear, colored balls that decorated the outside. Now that I was closer, I thought I could see an image flash across a surface every now and again. The poor lighting in the alley was tricking my eyes.
He reached within the wagon and pulled out a single ball, much smaller than the rest. It was barely as big as the first joint of a finger. The others were easily the size of the palm of my hand. Then he turned and held out the small sphere to me.
“This is a small Daydream,” he said, as if that explained everything.
I took it gently, surprised by the weight—practically nothing—and the texture—like brittle spiderweb. Bits of color danced across the material: blues and yellows and pinks. I stared at it for a long moment, then looked back up at the man in the grey coat quizzically.
“Squeeze it between your hands,” he instructed.
I did as I was told, centering the orb between my palms and applying pressure until it exploded into specks of fine dust. I inhaled sharply, and suddenly I was standing in a green meadow dotted with flowers, next to a tall oak tree. Birds chirped overhead, and I felt the warm sun on my back. A lazy summer breeze tugged playfully at my clothes. About a hundred paces away, there was a body of water too small for a lake and too large for a pond. It gleamed and beckoned to me with its still, blue coolness.
I rubbed my eyes, and just as suddenly I was back in the dim alley on a fall evening, next to the Dream Seller. A thin layer of gritty dust coated my hands. The Dream Seller held out a flat piece of paper and I brushed the dust into it from my hands. He folded it into a neat packet and handed it to me.
“Dream Dust, mixed with tea in the evening, provides sound sleep.”
“Thank you,” I said, dazed and unsettled, and tucked the paper in my pocket.
“Would you care to look through the rest of my wares?” His voice was subtly prompting, and I had taken a step forward before I realized what I was doing.
As I drew closer, I was shocked to realize that my eyes had not been deceived: there were images flitting across the surface of each sphere. The strange man stood silently to the side, a presence at the very edge of my awareness. I circled the wagon slowly, gazing at the balls, each in turn.
A strand of spheres danced on the evening breeze, catching my attention. Purple and blue streaked across their surfaces, giving way to pictures and then swallowing them once more. I saw pleasant scenes—lakeside picnics, peaceful sunsets, calm countryside landscapes. They were straight out of my best daydreams, the visions that floated through my mind when I was bored or frustrated.
The next strand was slashed through with violent reds. Monsters snarled up at me, straining at the surfaces, trying their best to explode the spheres on their own. Horrifying, spine-chilling pictures flashed through the bloody reds, pictures that scorched me with fear, that I could not describe because I tore my eyes away. I moved from that strand quickly.
I made my way around the cart and almost bumped into the three large balls at the back, each easily larger than my head. I stared at them, amazed at the images that shimmered amongst the gold and silver threads that wound around the spheres. I saw fantastic figures there: armies mobilizing to fight noble wars, ships departing on great journeys, hidden treasures, mighty swords, great deeds, heroic quests….
I shook myself, pulling my gaze away. The images were enticing, promising riches and a place in history. I looked at the Dream Seller, who stood a few steps away.
“What sort of dreams are these?”
“Those are Grand Dreams. They can provide inspiration and direction for those who would do great things and change the world.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “I do not think you would like one of those.”
I shook my head, agreeing. Great adventures and daring quests made for excellent stories, but they sounded dangerous and uncomfortable. I would leave changing the world to those braver than I. I kept walking around the wagon, looking at the alluring ribbons of spheres. Many colors flew along the strands—oranges, blues, yellows, pinks, greens, and purples. The images that were interspersed in the colors were just as varied. I saw happy, peaceful scenes; pictures of me making new friends; strange, incomprehensible images with bizarre angles and weird creatures; and visions of me surrounded by wealth and luxury beyond imagination.
Then another strand caught my eye and I gasped. I saw myself standing in a room, and in the doorway stood my little sister.
My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. My sister had died eight years back, when she was but sixteen. She fell from a tree while picking pears with her friends and hit her head on a rock. The memory of her limp body being carried into the house is seared permanently into my brain. Not a week goes by when I don’t think of her, even now. We were all the family we had, since our parents died of the fever. We were the best of friends….
I pointed a trembling finger at the ball, unable to tear my gaze from the sight of my sister’s smiling face, framed with pink threads. “What madness is this?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

The Dream Seller’s voice came from just behind my shoulder, and I jumped a little. “That is a True Dream. They draw from your memories and let you relive happy times. Sometimes people see friends or family, or moments of great joy.”
“You don’t see her, then?” I still stared, transfixed by the tantalizing scene.
“The images are different for each person who looks,” was all he would say.
I reached out and stopped just short of touching the sphere. Then I turned to face the Dream Seller. Though I could not see his eyes, I still felt the intensity of his stare.
“How much for a True Dream?” I asked, any lingering doubt thoroughly dispelled by the sight of my sister.
“For a True Dream, I could take no less than your sense of adventure.”
He could not have named a more confusing price. “Then how much are the Grand Dreams?”
“The Grand Dreams are expensive indeed: they cost all memories of your family.”
I gaped at him in horror. “Who would pay that?”
“One in a thousand might consider it.”
“And a True Dream costs… what, again?”
“Your sense of adventure.” His rasping voice took on a subtle hint of coaxing. “The curiosity that gnaws at you and gets you into uncomfortable situations. Your desire to see more of the world than is within an easy walk beyond your doorstep.” His thin mouth curved into a faint smile. “You won’t miss it.”
I didn’t know what to think. I stared into the sphere, watching my sister, missing her so much my chest ached. Then I thought of all the times my curiosity had gotten me into trouble, like the time my parents feared I had been kidnapped because I had followed a traveling performing troupe out of town to see how they lived. And I thought that perhaps my sense of adventure would not be too much to pay to see my sister again.
I looked at the Dream Seller, my mind made up. “I’ll take this one,” I said.
He nodded and reached for the sphere. It came away easily from the strand and settled gently into his palm. Then he stretched out his right hand towards me. His fingers rested lightly against the side of my face. They were cold, and I shivered, but did not pull away. We stood motionless for several heartbeats. The touch of his hand made me feel very peculiar.
At last, he pulled his hand back. He offered me the sphere, and I cradled it gently in my two hands, suddenly in a hurry to get home. The Dream Seller nodded a curt farewell to me and climbed up into his wagon. I did not see him leave because I was already heading down the street, back to my house.
When I arrived, I shut and locked the door behind me, then set the dream ball gently on my bed. I stared at it for a long time, watching the colors flash along the thin threads that made the ball and gazing at the shifting images of my sister. I was having a hard time comprehending the strange encounter and the even stranger purchase I had made, but I could not deny what lay before me.
Finally, almost reluctantly, I picked it up. The fine grit of the orb rubbed against my skin as I turned it carefully. The light from the lamp by my bed illuminated the ball and splashed its color across my hands. I settled the sphere between my palms and, in an act of will, squeezed. The ball burst into a cloud of dust, coating my hands and filling the air. I breathed deeply, and waited.
Nothing happened.
I waited a few more moments, then scowled with disgust. Nothing but a con. A really well constructed con, I was forced to admit, but a con nonetheless. More disappointed than I wanted to confess, even to myself, I brushed the Dream Dust from my hands to the floor. If he had lied about the dreams, he had likely lied about the sedative properties of the Dream Dust as well, so I saw no point in saving it. Intending to go to sleep, I rose to change my clothes, then stopped short, hardly daring to breathe.
In the doorway, looking as beautiful and healthy as she had eight years ago, stood my sister. She wore a dress of patterned muslin, her favorite, and the special smile she saved for family, for me. I was vaguely aware that I was trembling, but I could do nothing except gape at her.
She laughed, a light, bubbling sound that I had thought I would never hear again this side of time. “Surely you haven’t forgotten me,” she said, her tone joyful and teasing.
I shook my head and took a hesitant step forward. Then she flew to my arms, and we stood for a long while, locked in a warm, heartfelt embrace.
“I have missed you so much,” I told her, my voice rough with emotion.
“I miss you, too,” she said with equal feeling. “But I am well. You need not worry about me.” She laughed again. “Talk with me. Tell me everything.”
And so we talked, hand in hand because I dared not let go of her. I told her of my life, dull as it was, and related what stories from town I thought would make her laugh. We stared into each other’s eyes and talked as if we had never been parted. Every now and again I would forget to answer a question for the joy of looking at her. She would laugh at me then, and I would laugh with her. I laughed more during that conversation than I had in eight years.
We reminisced about our parents and teased each other about childhood pranks. We discussed what had changed, and what hadn’t. We apologized and asked forgiveness for misdeeds and hurts we had done. And more than once we exclaimed how much we loved and missed one another.
I do not know how long we talked, but I know that all too soon my sister looked at me and said, “I must go.”
I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach and robbed me of breath. “No,” I protested, knowing it was futile but unwilling to lose her again.
She smiled sadly. “I must. My time is done.” She leaned forward and kissed the tears from my cheek. “Be brave. We will see each other again, one day.”
“But I do not want to wait for that day,” I said miserably.
She squeezed my hand. “We have had this time together, and that is more than most people will have. Be grateful.”
As she walked slowly to the door, I wryly tried to remember if my little sister had said anything so wise before.
When she reached the door, she turned, gave me one last brilliant smile, and softly said, “Goodbye.”
And then she vanished.
I blinked. I was sitting on my bed, my hands covered with Dream Dust. The light coming through the window told me that it was dawn, that I had spent all night in the True Dream with the memory of my sister.
“Goodbye,” I whispered hoarsely.
Slowly, I rose from my bed and walked to the table. I carefully spread out the folded paper the Dream Seller had given me and brushed the Dream Dust from my hands, collecting as much as I could. With deliberate movements, I stored the Dream Dust in a safe place and prepared to go about my day, thoughts of my sister always close to the front of my mind.
That night was nearer fourteen years ago than thirteen now, but I haven’t forgotten even a bit of it. I play it over and over in my mind, bordering on obsession. I learned that a sprinkle of Dream Dust in my evening tea made it more likely that I would dream naturally of my sister, but it was not the same. I did make the Dream Dust last seven years.
I have never gone looking for the Dream Seller. Just as he said, I have no desire to travel beyond an easy walk past my front door; sometimes I miss that urge, but it is gone. I spend most evenings by my open window, listening for the clatter of wagon wheels in the evening twilight and half-watching for the sign “Dreams for Sale.” I am caught between yearning for and dreading the day that the Dream Seller will return, if it ever comes. You see, I learned that the problem with dreams, as wonderful as they are, is that you must eventually wake up.

Diplomatic Relations (Pt 7)

{And you thought you'd never read any of this ever again. Hahahahahahahahaha}

They worked for more than four hours before breaking for a meal. The conversation around the table was light-hearted and optimistic, a pleasant change from the gloom that had dominated the atmosphere for the last two days. There were actually smiles and jokes. Even Dog and Zack had stopped glowering at each other and were mostly agreeable. Josh lost some of the tension that had been slowly conquering his features, and he seemed more like the man Dara had met four days earlier.
Dara let them relax and recuperate for nearly an hour before calling them back together.
“All right,” she said, raising her voice slightly and effectively drawing everyone’s attention. “What do we have, what do we need, and how do we get it?”
“An ID card, which we have,” Redding said first, and that was met with broad smiles throughout the room.
“Uniforms,” Zack added. “We have those as well. Also, regulation weapons and insignia.” He glanced over at Josh and answered the unspoken question. “You really don’t want to know how we got them.”
Josh just shook his head ruefully.
“We need a military speeder,” Jayem said.
“We’ll discuss logistics on that in a minute,” Dara answered. “Anything else?”
“Military orders,” Dog put in. “Redding can forge those.”
“A drop point and an escape route,” Josh pointed out.
“Okay.” Dara looked around. “Anything else? No? All right, then. First up. How do we come by a military speeder…without alerting everyone that we’re coming?”
No one spoke for a long minute, and no one looked at each other, either.
Dara tilted her head. “Come on, people. We need ideas. Even stupid ones, even bad ones, even impossible ones that would never work in a million years. We have to have something to work with.”
There was absolute silence for a handful of seconds as everyone looked around the room uncomfortably, studiously avoiding Dara’s gaze.
“What if we asked them politely?” Dog suggested dryly.
The laughter that followed served to ease the tension.
“Sure,” Dara said. “I’ll put you in charge of that.”
More laughter, because almost as ludicrous as the idea of getting a speeder by asking politely was the thought of Dog doing the asking.
“Anyone else have a slightly less improbably idea?”
“We’re not used to planning missions like this, Dara,” Josh reminded her. “We don’t know where to begin.”
“I understand that,” she acknowledged, “but any idea can turn into a springboard.”
Redding half-raised a hand. “What about—“
“Oh, no,” Jayem groaned. “Not the ion bomb.”
Redding looked insulted. Dara and Dog couldn’t quite hide their smiles. Everyone else looked confused.
“Ion?” Josh asked.
“Ionized particles mess with computer systems, usually short-circuiting them,” Jayem said. “The trouble is that it’s impossible to guarantee the level of damage caused.”
“I could fix any problems,” Redding insisted. “It would give us time to deal with the occupants.”
“Which would also pose a problem,” Jayem countered. “Ions interfere with electronics, not with biological creatures. They’re only going to be mad when they pour out of that speeder, and they’ll likely be looking for something to shoot.”
Dara held up a hand before the argument could escalate. “Redding, assuming that you were able to reverse any damage and that we could neutralize the guards, do you even have your ion bombs with you?”
Redding looked indignant. “Of course I do. I—” his indignation faded to chagrin— “I left them in our rooms the night at the Hall of Roses.”
Dara nodded. “It was a good idea, nonetheless.”
Jayem grinned triumphantly, and Redding shot him a nasty look.
Zack stared blankly past all the discussion in the room, unaware of the argument and completely lost in thought.
“Zack?” Dara had to repeat his name before he heard. “What are you thinking?”
He shrugged self-consciously. “Maybe nothing. But I remember a friend of mine saying that the State contracts out its mechanical work, and I’m wondering if that applies to speeders as well.”
“Can you find out?”
He swiveled in his chair to face a console. “I can try.”
The conversation continued to flow around him as he searched. A few minutes later, he had his answer.
“Speeders get sent to a private company less than a kilometer away. They do regular maintenance as well as repairs.”
Dara’s eyes narrowed in concentration, then she turned to Redding, her mouth opening to speak.
He spoke for her. “Could I make a work order to send a perfectly functioning speeder for maintenance so that we can grab the speeder from the mechanic, as private companies tend to have security that is more lax than military, and they wouldn’t be in a hurry to mention that they ‘lost’ a speeder for fear that they’d lose their contract.”
“Exactly,” Dara said, amusement flickering across her face.
“Why can’t we just get in uniform and tell the mechanics we have orders to pick it up?”
“Because the company’s employees do all the vehicle transfers,” Zack answered. “They’d need very specific instructions to allow something like that.”
“Okay, then. So it’s Redding to the rescue once more.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Dara asked.
“I’m just wondering what everyone else is going to be doing during this rescue op.”
“Three of us are going in to get Marna. There should be two people waiting for us at the rendezvous with the transfer speeder.” She paused. “You’re unhappy that you’ll be here with the computers instead of out on the mission.”
He shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I’ll content myself with running the whole thing,” he said with a magnanimous sweep of his hand.”
Her face was solemn, but her eyes were laughing when she answered. “Well, then, General Redding, we’re counting on you for the success of our mission.”
In the background, Jayem snorted.
“A general is as good as the soldiers he commands,” Redding said loftily.
Dog was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. “Then your career is doomed,” he said.
Josh waited for the laughter to stop before he looked at Dara. “I’m going with you.”
“No,” she said flatly. “You’re not.”
He bristled. “I know I don’t have as much experience as the rest of you, but—“
“This is not about wanting a team of elites, Josh. I’m not worried about that.”
“Then why?”
“If we fail, then the Fringe will be without a leader. I won’t put you in danger, but not because I don’t think you can handle it.”
Josh’s face tightened, but his people murmured their assent.
“I want to come, then,” Zack said.
Dara regarded him evenly. “This isn’t going to be easy, and it’s not a glory mission. You know the consequences better than we do if we fail. Why do you want to come?”
“You need a driver. I know the streets. If you get lost, or seem like you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll raise their suspicions immediately.”
After a long moment of thought, Dara nodded once. “Zack, you’re our driver. Can you use a blaster, if the need arises?”
“I can.”
“Good. You’ll come with Dog and me.” She looked at Dog, who offered a feral grin, and then at Jayem. “Jayem?”
He looked up with an expression of suppressed surprise that told Dara that he had not been listening.
“You’ll stay here with Redding, “ she repeated.
“Sure. Fine,” he said absently, and Dara knew he was off on a tangent in his mind.
She shrugged, presuming that he was trying to sort out Stawl’s economy or the exchange ratio between the New Republic credit and the State’s currency. “Next, we need to find a nice, out of the way rendezvous. Some place where no one will see us, but where it wouldn’t look odd to be seen going there.”
“Some place secluded, nowhere close to a security hub, but where military speeders go?”
“You have an idea, Zack?”
“I think so. The Old Square. It’s more or less deserted, and anyone we might see wouldn’t necessarily be a friend of the State. It’s blocks away from any security hub, but military speeders sometimes get called out there. No one would notice or care if someone waited around with a speeder.” He looked at Josh. “It’s also far enough away from any of our safe houses that we wouldn’t be leaving an obvious trail.”
Josh nodded his approval, then “I’ll meet you there with one of our covered speeders.”
“Josh—“
“No, Dara. I cannot stay here and do nothing. I understand why you do not want me to go with you, but the least I can do is be there to welcome Marna back. You can’t deny me that.”
Dara raised her eyebrows. “I was going to say, that’s a good idea. You should choose someone to go with you. It never hurts to have an extra set of eyes.”
“Oh.” He grinned awkwardly. “All right, then.”
“Great. Zack, you mentioned uniforms. Let’s see what you have.”

Diplomatic Relations (Pt 6)

{Yes, I know that it's been a while since I posted. Let me warn you that it might be a while before it's truly finished. School is eating up every spare minute of time I have, plus all brain cells normally devoted to writing. But it will be finished. Hopefully soon, but don't quote me. That being said, I did want to give you a little more of what I have. Also, my font is messing up, and I don't know how to fix it. :~p }

For an hour, they debated hotly about the viability of a rescue. Every plan that was projected was quickly shot down. The ID card lying on the table received more than one bitter glance. Being in possession of one card was almost worse than having none, since it had raised and then crushed everyone’s hopes.

Redding had retreated back to the computers, leaving the rest to argue about the best point of contact. Of the three possible locations—the Detention Center, in transit, and the court house—the Detention Center had been completely ruled out, the court house had been deemed too risky, and now they were studying the route between the two.

“What about this intersection?” Dara pointed to a place on the map. “Not a major intersection, no large businesses, and at least eight minutes from the Detention Center and six from the court house.”

“No good.” Josh touched a building three blocks away. “This is a security hub. They could have us in custody before we got the doors open.”

Jayem frowned. “They have those hubs very efficiently placed.”

“Here, then,” Dog said. “They pass a side street halfway through the route, and it’s ten blocks to the nearest hub. If we work fast—“

“No good.” Jayem shot it down this time. “There are too many businesses there, and they’ll definitely be populated. We can’t risk that many people seeing us, and I doubt we could lure the transport into a side street.”

“I knew this wouldn’t work,” one of the Fringe’s computer experts said glumly. “This whole scheme is impossible, especially on such short notice. If we had another card—“

“But you don’t,” Dog snapped. “And if you want our help, you don’t have the time to get one. If you’d like to wait until we’re gone and your leader has been transferred somewhere more secure, then be my guest. “

“Dog.” There was more than a hint of warning in Dara’s voice.

“We never asked for your help,” the man retorted. “We were fine before you came, and we’ll be fine when you’re gone.”

“That’s enough, Zack,” Josh said firmly. “We wouldn’t even be having this meeting if it weren’t for these pilots. The least you can do is be civil.”

Zack and Dog glared at each other, and the tension in the room was almost tangible.

“I think we should take a break,” Dara suggested. “Fifteen minutes to clear our heads and get some fresh perspective. I’ll get Redding to pull the floor plan of the court house, and we’ll see if we can find a chink in the armor there when we get back.”

They dispersed with a minimum of grumbling. Josh threw a worried look Dara’s way, to which she replied with a reassuring smile as she left the room.

The computer room was quiet when Dara walked in. Redding was the only occupant, leaning back in his chair, his feet kicked up on another, staring at the console. Dara glanced at the screen and saw that he was watching security cam feeds from the Detention Center.

“Redding, we need floor plans for the court house. And if you could get the security schedules, too, that would be….” Her voice trailed off, and her face was a study in concentration.

“Splendid? Horrid? Fantastic? Awful?” Redding prompted. He looked up at her, caught her expression. “What is it?”

Abruptly Dara burst out laughing. Redding shot her a look suggesting that he was ready to call the psych medics.

“It’s perfect,” she gasped in between taking deep breaths to compose herself. “I can’t believe we missed it.”

“Missed what?” Redding demanded.

She pointed to a screen, and Redding frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Watch.”

He did, then his expression cleared, and his eyes lit with understanding. “Oh! Of course!”

“Prepare to be invaded,” she warned him. “I’m going to bring everyone in here.”

“Anything I should start doing?”

“See what kind of orders you’ll need to falsify. And double check what time Marna is scheduled to be transferred.”

“Will do.” Redding sat up straight and began feeding commands into the computer.

* * *

“That is our solution,” Dara said, pointing at the screen.

“Transport speeders?” Josh asked incredulously. “How?”

“We don’t have to go into the Detention Center to get Marna. We’ll just pick him up at the door.” Redding wore a very satisfied expression.

“Exactly,” Dara confirmed. “Play the portion of the vid that I showed you.”

Redding found the correct marker and played it. They all watched as three guards signed out a speeder and drove it out of the garage.

“And this helps us?” Zack’s disbelief was plain in his voice. “Instead of two guards, now there are three, and we still only have the one ID card.”

“Watch again,” Dara directed. “Yes, there are three guards, but notice how many of them produce their ID card.”

The room was very quiet as they realized what Dara was driving at.

“Three guards, one ID,” Josh said in a hushed voice.

“So, Redding falsifies orders for us to get the speeder and pick up Marna, and we just drive out, free and clear?” Dog shook his head. “How did we miss that?”

“We’ll have to ditch the speeder immediately after leaving the Center, though,” Jayem cautioned. “They likely all have homing beacons so they can be tracked.”

“Not a problem,” Josh said, a trace of dazed wonder in his expression. “We’ll have our own speeder ready for transfer somewhere nearby.”

“Excellent,” Dara said. “Redding, pull up all the information you can on prisoner transfer protocol, this one in particular, including holocams and personnel logs. We’re going to go over every step of this plan. I don’t want any surprises.”

(to be continued...)