Tyrial woke up feeling almost as bad as he had when he’d gone to sleep. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t. His blankets were torn and wadded up in the far corner of the room. His nightstand lay dented and uneven against the wall next to the door to his room, the clock that was on top of it nowhere to be found. And to top it all off, his bed leaned to one side.

Groaning, Tyrial pushed himself off of what was left of his bed and stood. One of the legs of the bed was bent almost in half. From beneath his bed came an eerie glow, likely indicating the whereabouts of the missing clock. Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tyrial warily bent down to examine the bent bed leg. It looked like he could probably bend it back.

Doing his best to focus his mind, he gathered his Will. Using a small gravity well to lift the bed slightly, he then used two more tightly concentrated wells to hold the top of the leg while bending the bottom part back into a straight line. That done, he released the bed and seeing it sit flat and level again, felt slightly better about the morning, but only slightly. Walking over to the wad of torn blankets he shook his head, there wasn’t much he could do for those. He untangled the mess and did his best to make something usable out of what was left.

Throwing the untangled blankets back on his bed, he walked over to the nightstand. One corner was caved in but it was still square enough to stand upright. So long as he didn’t feel the need to open the built in drawer it was still serviceable. Standing it up he placed it next to his bed. Bending down he retrieved the clock sitting under his bed. Sitting that back on top of the nightstand, he looked around the room.

Aside from the minor dents and scratches and the torn up covers it wasn’t the worst he’d seen. He sighed, he was forcing the optimism and he knew it. Sitting on the bed he held his head in his hands and let the emotions of yesterday’s events roll over him. He had done well enough so far as a ship’s Mage was concerned, he thought. He had kept the ship safe and had helped them escape a Conclave Destroyer.

That should have been cause enough for celebration. Then he recalled how he had managed to alienate the one and only person on the ship who had shown him the slightest compassion and kindness. He had spoken harshly to her, and then closed the door in her face. Why did he have to be so incompetent when it came to dealing with other people? And worse of all why by the Void did he even care.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his fist and opened his eyes and sat up straight. It wasn’t like him to wallow in self pity. That kind of thinking could get you killed when you had no one else to rely on but yourself. The fact that he had had two destructive nightmares in as many weeks was a sure sign that he was starting to come unhinged. He had to get a grip on himself or he was going to lose what sanity he had left.

Standing, he walked over to the full length mirror on the back of his bathroom door and looked at himself. He looked like shit. He had gone to bed with his clothes on and after his rough night they looked much the worse for wear. Stripping off his clothes, he walked into the bathroom and spent the next twenty minutes doing his best not to look like he had spent the night drinking.

Back in his room he checked the small dresser opposite the bathroom door and found a fresh change of clothes. Fortunately both the dresser and his desk were spared the worst of his nocturnal destruction. Checking his reflection in the mirror again, he found he was unimpressed with the results of his efforts. He could do nothing about the dark circles under his eyes and despite his best efforts to tell himself to stop moping, he still had a haunted expression on his face.

Deciding he wasn’t going to manage any better this morning, he decided to go get something to eat in the mess hall. Throwing on his battered trench coat, he left his room and headed down the hall and to the right towards the mess. Stepping into the large room, his eyes were immediately drawn to Rella. She was sitting with William and Sarah, talking quietly in one corner. Trying not to stare at her, he still noticed she was no longer wearing the brooch in her hair from yesterday. Tyrial knew he should probably apologize to her, but he had no idea at all of what to say. His mind wasn’t quite as clouded with confusion as the night before, but he still felt out of place.

Trying to keep his eyes to himself he walked over to the food prep station. He couldn’t help but notice, however, that Rella was smiling at William and Sarah and touching their arms much like she had with him. Looking at the station he saw that it was currently set up to make sandwich wraps. Something easily portable, that suited Tyrial just fine. Pressing the appropriate buttons, he waited the requisite few seconds while the device reconstituted the appropriate ingredients and put them together. He wondered, as the machine worked, if perhaps he had just misread Rella’s expression on the bridge the day before. It was a pretty big leap to assume he could accurately read another person's facial expression, especially given his inexperience with people. On the other hand, he did know the look of pity pretty well.

The machine beeped lightly, indicating his meal was ready. He grabbed it and looked at it for a moment. Not only had he barked at Rella, he may have done so for no valid reason at all. For all he knew he had misread everything she had done since they met. He felt the anger and frustration and self pity of yesterday brushing up against the edges of his mind. Breathing deeply through his nose he pushed it all into the Void in his mind. He was on one of the most advanced starships he had ever seen, serving a captain who was fair and intelligent, with a crew who were at the very least not hostile towards him.

Looking again at his sandwich, however, he still couldn’t muster up the energy to eat it. He suddenly had a thought that almost made him laugh out loud. If only the Conclave had known how simple it would be to get under his skin. On the two occasions they had had the opportunity to question him they had used such mundane methods as torture and manipulation. If only they had known it was as simple as finding some random girl to show him some kindness.

Taking his morbid humour and cold sandwich, he turned and headed back the way he had come. He figured he might as well stare at the sandwich he had no interest in eating in the privacy of his own room. Just before he reached the central intersection of the hallway he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He was conflicted for a moment, tempted to walk faster to escape the inevitable confrontation. But he wasn’t a coward and his mind felt on slightly firmer footing than the day before.

Slowing to a stop, he turned halfway and saw out of the corner of his eyes Rella walking towards him. When she saw that he had stopped and turned, she stopped as well. If Tyrial had to guess, which he was thinking he should probably stop doing, he would have said that she looked as unsure as he felt. Holding her hands in front of her, she seemed to pull herself together and walked the few feet to where Tyrial stood.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. They stood in the hallway trying their best not to look at each other. Steeling himself, Tyrial prepared to make an apology, but before he could open his mouth however, Rella began, “Tyrial —“

Before she could even get the full name out, the ship intercom beeped loudly followed by Gabriel’s voice. “All bridge crew please report to the bridge,” Gabriel said.

For a moment, Tyrial thought that Rella was going to say more, but then she sighed and walked past him towards the bridge. Tyrial had never seen her with a sad expression before; he had the very distinct impression he was responsible for it. Unfortunately he had a job he was required to do, and that job didn’t take personal feelings into account.

Looking at the sandwich he had lost both opportunity and motivation to eat, he turned back to the mess and threw it away in the trash bin just inside. As he turned to make his way back to the bridge, he saw William and Sarah looking in his direction as they stood to follow. William ignored his presence completely as he always did, but the look on Sarah’s face as she glanced at Tyrial seemed to be a mixture of sympathy and irritation.

Tyrial turned and continued back down the hallway towards the bridge. At this point, if he had done something to make Sarah upset as well, he figured it was just par for the course. Climbing the stairs to the bridge, he moved to his station and took his chair. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes he saw Rella sitting in front of her own station, head down slightly and a sad frown on her face. For some reason Tyrial could not quite pin down, that look made something in his chest hurt slightly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he summoned the Void in his mind and stabilized his feelings. It came easier to him today than it had yesterday.

A few seconds later, Gabriel came out of his ready room and took his seat next to Tyrial. Acting as though nothing at all were amiss, he said, “Set course for eight five seven one nine two mark six. Half grav power until we're clear of the asteroid field, then one point zero LYH.”

“Yes, sir,” said William.

The ship shook slightly as it lifted off from the cave floor and retracted its landing struts. Tyrial watched his display as the ship moved out of the asteroid they had hidden in and began navigating out of the asteroid field.

As the ship cleared the last of the asteroids, William said, “Clear of the asteroids, ready for lightspeed.”

Tyrial tapped his console to engage the gravity emitter. Gathering his Will, he began warping the space for the ship. He watched his display as their relativistic speed increased up to one point zero light years per hour. The captain must have been trying to make up for lost time given the unusually fast cruising speed he had requested. Any lesser Mage might have had a hard time maintaining that speed for as long as was necessary. Fortunately Tyrial was well rested, at least in regards to his Will Power, and wouldn’t have a problem with it.

Keeping his mind focused, on the other hand, was going to be more challenging. For the next seven hours, Tyrial did his best not to let his concentration drift as he monotonously folded space for the ship to pass through. He found the task to be more daunting than it should have been. Every few minutes he had to contend with a stab of guilt for the gloomy looking Rella sitting beside Gabriel. Followed shortly after by a stab of irritation at the unwanted emotions. Fortunately those unwanted thoughts seemed to come less and less often as he concentrated on his task.

As they approached the outer reaches of the Antares System, Gabriel broke the long silence, “Tyrial, slow to point two LYH. William, begin scanning for the subspace relays.”

Tyrial obeyed the odd request, slowing down his warping until they reached point two LYH. Subspace relays, so far as Tyrial knew, were only accessible by the Conclave and those who paid their tariffs.

“First relay contacted,” said William, “downloading patrol schedules now.”

If Tyrial had only been slightly suspicious of Gabriel's connections before, this solidified it. No small time smuggling operation would have access to hacked Conclave subspace relays. Nevermind the correct codes necessary to decrypt a Conclave blockades patrol schedule. Tyrial glanced at Gabriel as he maintained the slower relativistic speed. Gabriel made eye contact, and then winked. Tyrial nearly choked on his spit.

“First opening coming up in three minutes and twenty-nine seconds,” William said. “The window is small, we’d need to make one point seven LYH to clear it.”

Gabriel looked at Tyrial and said, “Well?”

Tyrial was still trying to process all of this new information, not to mention the wink. Who in the Void was Gabriel, and more importantly, who did he know? Tyrial’s head was spinning between the mess he had made with Rella and the things he kept learning about Gabriel. Putting all of that aside for now, Tyrial nodded and said, “Not a problem.”

Gabriel sat back in his chair and said, “Alright, let's do it. William, give the count down and mark. Tyrial, on William’s mark give it all you’ve got until William says we’ve cleared the blockade.”

“Understood,” said Tyrial. He had never heard of blockade running like this. Usually the process involved sending out unmanned probes to observe the patrol patterns for hours and then shooting for a hole and hoping for the best. Maybe after that save from the Conclave Destroyer it was time to do a bit of probing. That was going to have to wait for a bit longer though.

“Thirty seconds,” said William. “Twenty seconds… Ten seconds… Five, four, three, two one, mark.”

At William’s word, Tyrial put everything he had into pushing the gravitons in front of the ship and warping the space. Gabriel had said to give it everything he had, and so he did. He watched the console as their relativistic speed increased. Point seven LYH, then point nine, one point three, one point five. At that point things began to get a bit difficult. One point six shortly followed and Tyrial began to sweat. He knew he could make a faster speed, but he had been warping for the last seven hours and change at one point zero LYH. He was definitely going to sleep well tonight.

“We need to go faster or we're not going to make it,” said William to no one in particular.

Tyrial gritted his teeth. He didn’t bother to reply. He drew in his breath and pushed with everything he had. One point seven, one point eight, and finally one point nine. The ship began to shudder slightly as they surpassed the limits of the inertial dampers and gravity deflectors. Tyrial thought he could make two point zero, so he pushed just a little harder. Suddenly he felt the familiar prickle in the back of his head that meant he was dangerously close to overdrawing his power. He smiled nonetheless, his console read two point zero LYH.

The ship was shaking noticeably now and several warning lights were flashing on the primary console. A few seconds later, William said, “We’re clear.”

Tyrial was glad to hear that and he was proud of himself for a new personal record. Although to be honest most of the credit belonged to the ship for its immensely powerful gravity emitter and ability to hold together at such speeds. Tyrial relaxed his Will immediately, dropping them down to a sedate zero point two LYH. He had a pretty good headache starting up, but he had managed to avoid over exerting himself, barely.

“You ok?” asked Gabriel. Tyrial glanced at him, and saw the look of concern on his face mirrored on Rella’s behind him.

“Ya, I’m fine, Sir,” replied Tyrial. He tried to flash a quick smile at Rella, but he was afraid it may have come out as more of a grimace. Whatever the case, it didn’t seem to improve her mood much at all. Tyrial turned back to his own console and tried to look busy. He was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to stay conscious long enough to talk to her today. Then again, perhaps that was for the best.

A few minutes later, Tyrial’s console indicated they were coming up to the indicated coordinates Gabriel had set earlier. His console counted down and at zero, the gravitons he had been directing disappeared. They dropped to sublight speed in front of Antares IV. Tyrial breathed out steadily, slouching slightly in his chair and completely relaxing his Will, finally. He hadn’t worked himself so hard for so many days in a row for a long long time.

Thinking back, he had never run into the Conclave so many times in such a short span before either. He wondered if perhaps this ship was cursed, or maybe he was. Just one more oddity about this ship he wished he could get to the bottom of. Then again, if his suspicions about the captain’s affiliations were accurate, that might explain a lot of the extra Conclave attention right there. Tyrial wondered about the noble whose cargo they were carrying, and what his affiliations might be.

Shaking his head slightly, Tyrial tried to dispel all of those ideas for now. They were only guesses and ones he could not currently do anything about substantiating one way or another. For now, he just had to concentrate on keeping them alive and keeping his eyes open. He could work on putting it all together later.

Gabriel glanced at Tyrial slouching in his chair and said, “Why don’t you go get some sleep, we can handle the landing from here.”

Tyrial did his best to sit upright and look alert, he said, “No, thank you, Sir, I’ll sleep when we’re all safe.”

Gabriel looked at him for a moment, a smile playing on his face, then nodded. He looked at his console briefly, then said, “Set course for planetside, twenty-nine point seventy-eight degrees south by ninety-eight point ten degrees east.”

Tyrial did his best to concentrate as they began deorbiting into the planet's atmosphere. He was straining to feel any echos that might have been important. He kept losing focus however, both mentally and visually, he realized, as the console in front of him kept blurring. Gritting his teeth, he redoubled his efforts, keeping his exhaustion at bay by main force. As they began to clear the upper atmosphere, the forward console switched to a real-time exterior view.

Tyrial watched as what looked like a small patch of green in an otherwise barren desert began to come into focus. As they got closer, it became obvious this planet was not fully terraformed yet, as many of them were not. Trees and greenery mostly only existed near active settlements. This particular patch of green housed a large number of houses and apartments. At its center were a few very tall and large skyscrapers.

“Transmit landing beacon omega ten five beta,” said Gabriel.

“Transmitting beacon,” said Rella.

Their ship made its way towards the outer edge of the settlement. As they got closer Tyrial could make out what looked like a medium-sized walled compound with two large landing pads at its center. Surrounding those were several small and medium sized buildings with one towards the rear that was easily four times larger than any other.

“Receiving clearance on encrypted channel,” said Rella, “we are authorized to land on pad one.”

Gabriel nodded and said, “Make it so.”

The ship slowed as it moved over the compound, then descended slowly over the indicated landing pad. It shook slightly as the landing struts made contact, then the ever present hum of the gravity emitter below them changed pitch as it began powering down. Tyrial relaxed, tilted his head back and briefly closed his eyes. He hadn’t felt anything the whole journey here and he still didn’t. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything due to his exhaustion.

He knew he needed to talk to Rella. He also knew he was completely exhausted. He figured it would be better to avoid her for now rather than further cock up the situation. With that thought in mind, he didn’t wait for a dismissal from Gabriel; technically, he already had one from earlier. Standing, and thankful that he managed to do so without stumbling, he walked to the back of the bridge and down the stairs.

He didn’t look behind him as he went because he didn’t want to see the inevitable look of sadness on Rella’s face. He was finally thinking more clearly now and understood he needed to make things right with the one person not likely to vote him off the ship. However, right now, he just needed to sleep. Walking down the hall and to his room, he opened the door and stepped inside. He had forgotten the mess he left his room in earlier. Sighing, he walked over to the bed and this time remembered to take off his clothes. Slipping under what was left of the torn covers, he let sleep take him.

Some hours later, Tyrial woke. Glancing quickly around his room in the dim light, he was relieved to see everything sitting more or less where it should be. Sitting up he shaded his eyes as the lights automatically brightened. Having slept peacefully he should have felt well rested, but with everything on his mind from the last several days he just felt worn out.

He only just repressed a sigh and shaking his head to himself, he got up. After spending some time in the bathroom, he stood in front of his mirror looking at himself again. As he stood there trying to convince himself that he didn’t look like a walking zombie, his stomach notified him that he had not eaten for quite some time. Throwing on some clothes and his trench coat, he decided to ignore his appearance for now and headed for the door.

Outside his room he headed down the hallway to the mess. He felt thankful for a second that no one was there, then felt slightly bad at feeling thankful. Grimacing, he moved to the food prep station at the back of the mess. Still cold sandwiches, but Tyrial shrugged and punched up some food anyway. While watching the food prep machine work, he wondered what he should do today. He could tell they were still planetside because there was no hum from the gravity emitter.

He knew what he should do today, before anything else. Hearing the food prep machine beep, he grabbed the finished sandwich and stared at it for a few moments. Thoughts of Rella made his stomach tingle, although not as badly as the first day. He knew he had to eat though, if he went without much longer he was going to pass out. Standing there, staring at nothing, he began to mechanically eat the prepared food. The longer he put off talking to Rella, the more difficult it was going to be.

Realizing he was staring off into space, he glanced down at the sandwich he had almost finished. Only then did he realize there had been a paper wrapper on the lower half. Looking at the bite marks in the paper, he decided he hadn’t really been tasting it anyway and, peeling off the rest of the paper, finished the sandwich.

Allowing himself one more sigh, he turned and walked back into the hallway. This time he turned right at the intersection. Two doors down, he found the one labeled “Rella Arengale”. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he reached up to the control pad, then hesitated. He truly had no idea what he was going to say. He thought he should have a plan of some kind, some idea of what to say to her. He stood there for what seemed like hours with his hand half raised to the door.

Finally the frustration at his inability to do something as simple as talk to another person won out. Before he could second guess himself again, he tapped the request entry button. Instead of a message indicating he had requested entry, the display said no occupant. Great, she wasn’t in her room.

Gritting his teeth he headed for the bridge, the only other place he could think she would be. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of anyone, but he would be swallowed by the Void before he would let his cowardice talk him into putting it off again. His mind felt mostly clear of the messy jumble it had been on his first day so he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

Walking up onto the bridge, however, he found no one there. Standing at the top of the stairs he looked at the empty stations and wondered where everyone had gone.

“Ahh Tyrial,” said Gabriel, “you’re up, good. Come sit, we should talk.”

Tyrial glanced to his right and only then noticed that the captain's ready room door was open. Gabriel was sitting behind his desk with a stack of tablets on one side. Looking back at Rella’s station, Tyrial turned and walked into the captain's ready room. Sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Gabriel’s desk, Tyrial waited for Gabriel to speak.

“I’m glad to see you seem to be doing ok,” said Gabriel, “I was about to send Liam to go check on you.”

Deciding he definitely did not need another visit from the personable doctor, Tyrial said, “I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Good, good,” said Gabriel. Picking up one of his many tablets, he looked it over quickly and said, “Now, let's get business out of the way here and then you can go enjoy your shore leave.”

“Shore leave?” asked Tyrial with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm? Yes,” said Gabriel distractedly, “we need to spend some time here refitting, so, shore leave.” Looking up from his tablet, he said, “Now, the first order of business is the vote. Since this is the end of our first official mission with you on board. The votes currently stand at two yes and …” pausing briefly, he looked at his tablet again with an odd half smile on his face, “four not… yets.” Chuckling, Gabriel said half to himself, “William must have done this, the form originally only had a yes or no on it.”

Looking back to Tyrial again, Gabriel said, “Well, with that I imagine it’s only a matter of time before you have the full vote. At any rate, here are your credits for the first run.” Gabriel handed Tyrial a credit chip.

Tyrial glanced at the small device and was surprised to see the static display on one side indicated the chip contained a little over four thousand credits. That was almost more money than Tyrial had ever been in possession of at once in his entire life.

“I put a little extra on it from my own share,” said Gabriel, “for saving my life back when this all started. There's a safe in your room you can keep it in, as well as some blank chips there if you want to keep some smaller denominations on you.”

Tyrial didn’t know what to say to so many credits; if he was going to be making even half of this every run he would never need to worry about credits again. Looking up at Gabriel, Tyrial wondered how the captain managed to make so much on a single run. Tyrial had never heard of any cargo so valuable, but then they were transporting for a noble. That thought, of course, brought up a whole list of questions Tyrial had been putting off almost since he had met Gabriel.

Tyrial suspected he wasn’t going to get many chances to ask these types of questions so he took the opportunity now. Putting the credit chip in his pocket, he sat back and tried to put his thoughts in order. He didn’t want to screw up what he had here, but these questions had to be asked.

Gabriel must have sensed some of what was going through Tyrial’s mind as he said, “Ahh, the tough questions, a little sooner than I expected. Then again, given your history, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

That brought Tyrial up short. “My history?” he said.

Sitting back himself, Gabriel gave Tyrial an appraising look, then said, “Raised by your father, a renegade Conclave mage. Your parents killed by the Conclave at the age of sixteen. Escaped from Conclave Questioners twice. A personal Conclave death toll somewhere north of two hundred, not counting crew on ships you’ve destroyed. I’ll be honest, I was quite impressed. Really your only downside was lack of self control when it came to the Conclave.”

Tyrial couldn’t move for a moment. Who was this man? Almost on instinct, Tyrial gathered his Will and expanded it throughout the room. Or at least he tried to but he suddenly realized that the better part of the entire room was protected by Ragnacite. He started to stand with the look of a trapped feral animal beginning to spread on his face.

Gabriel looked at him levelly, a hint of disappointment on his face. “Come on, if I had wanted you captured I had plenty of opportunity while you were sleeping,” Gabriel said. “I know you have a quick wit and a sharp mind, use it.”

Tyrial swallowed hard, and with supreme effort got control of his rising panic. Half standing, he let his mind skitter over the facts. Gabriel certainly had had several chances to kill him. Given how much Ragnacite he appeared to be in possession of, capturing him would not have been a challenge either. How in the Void had he not noticed this much Ragnacite before? No, that was a question for later. If he wasn’t a Conclave spy, who else would have access to that kind of information?

It started to click together; the same sequence that had almost fallen into place on their journey here when Gabriel had decoded the Conclave patrol codes. Aside from the Conclave, there were almost no other large organizations in existence in the human colonies. Most organized crime syndicates were fairly small. And the noble houses, although powerful, consisted of only a few families each. Even the system governments had very little power in the face of the fractured noble houses that made them up.

No, there was only one other human organization whose resources and organization came even anywhere close to rivaling the Conclave themselves. Sitting heavily back into the chair, Tyrial said, “The Opposition.”

Smiling, Gabriel said, “Exactly. Honestly, I thought that would have been your first guess to start with.”

“I…” Tyrial began, “I thought, at first, perhaps you knew something about them. Had some connections somewhere maybe. Do you… work for them? Or something?”

Chuckling, Gabriel said, “Something like that. I can’t get into too many specifics yet; they would have my head on a platter if I gave away anything without authorization. What I can tell you is that we have had our eye on you for some time now, Mr. Novengrad. You were always labeled as a bit of a loose cannon. Not really fit for an Opposition Mage.”

Tyrial did his best to absorb all of this. All those years spent hunting for the Opposition and they had known about him all along. All that wasted effort, all that time looking for a purpose. They had known he was looking for them and had kept him in the dark on purpose. Tyrial’s blood began to boil, he would show them a loose cannon. They would regret —

No. Closing his eyes, Tyrial realized they were right. He was like a fusion bomb where the Conclave were concerned. He was just so much indiscriminate destruction, as likely to kill allies as enemies. He thought back to that Conclave ship the day before. He had been fully prepared to destroy the Osiris so long as it meant an end to the Destroyer the Conclave were hiding in.

Swallowing back hard on this new source of self loathing, he asked the obvious, “So, why now?”

“Well, the Council still thinks you’re too big a risk,” said Gabriel, “For the most part, I would have agreed with them. But after Fyrial died, I realized big risks were going to be necessary to stay in this game. I asked for authorization to approach you as an emissary of the Opposition. They said no, naturally, still unconvinced the risk was worth it. I countered with hiring you as my ship’s Mage to give you the chance to prove yourself. It took a fair bit of convincing and eventually the threat of leaving the Opposition entirely, but I finally got my way.”

Thinking that over for a moment, Tyrial said, “Wait, so Salazar was an Opposition Mage?”

Gabriel laughed bitterly, then said, “No, thank the Gods. I picked him up from a bar in Sirius II. He wasn’t a very savory character, which was exactly what I needed to get Endelson’s attention. He was basically here as a trade on the chance I could convince you to work for me. It was the only way I could convince Endelson to let me talk with you in the first place.”

“So… You don’t work for them,” said Tyrial, “you are them. I mean, you're not some kind of freelancer, you're actually part of the Opposition itself.”

Shrugging, Gabriel said, “Not really supposed to go into that. Here’s what it boils down to Tyrial. I know you’ve wanted to be a part of the Opposition for a while now. I am your chance. Prove you’re not a powder keg looking for a spark. As for the rest, you’ll have to trust me for now. I can’t really answer any more questions than I have already. Prove you’re a reliable member of the crew, and I’ll get you all the answers you want and then some.”

Tyrial slouched in his chair. Just when he thought the last rug had been pulled out from under him, the steel decking he thought he’d been standing on was pulled out as well. He was almost tempted to tell Gabriel to go to the Void. All of this high handed proving himself bullshit. Thinking on it though, Tyrial reconsidered. Even if he discounted all of this Opposition stuff, even if he assumed he would never be trusted enough to be a part of their little party, this ship offered an opportunity entirely separate from that that was still worth pursuing. With the money he was making here in a few months, or a year at the most, he would have enough to pursue the Opposition himself without Gabriel's help. Or maybe even the Conclave directly.

With those thoughts in mind, Tyrial sat up straighter and said, “Alright, so be it.” With that, he held out his hand to Gabriel. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to make a gentleman's pact on the issue, but for some reason it felt right.

Gabriel glanced at his outstretched hand for a second, then extended his own and shook. He said, “You seem like a very honorable man to me, Tyrial. If it were solely up to me, I would let you join here and now. I’m absolutely certain, however, that you’ll convince the Council in short order given the chance.”

Taking his hand back, Tyrial nodded. He wasn’t entirely convinced himself, but either way, this ship was worth sticking with for a while. Thinking of the ship made him think of Rella. He wondered briefly if his decision to stay was entirely based on logic. Either way, he needed to make things right with her. His emotions seemed almost entirely under control now. Given that he had at least two yeses on the vote he wasn’t sure how important keeping Rella happy was, but that didn’t give him the right to hurt someone who was just trying to be kind to him. Especially if he was staying on this ship for any length of time.

“Sir, do you happen to know where Rella is?” asked Tyrial.

Gabriel's otherwise neutral expression turned to one of thinly disguised pleasure. “Hmm,” he said, “ahh, yes. I think I heard her say something about visiting the gardens just outside the compound’s east gate. I’d try there.”

Standing and nodding, Tyrial said, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

As Tyrial waited to be dismissed, Gabriel said, “Tyrial, she may not be as delicate as she looks, but I’d take it as a personal favour if you went easy on her anyway.”

Pausing for a moment, Tyrial said, “I’ll do my best, Sir. I’m not good with people. I do damage without meaning to; people are confusing.”

There was silence for a moment, then Gabriel said, “Your best is all I ask, Tyrial. Rella has been a close friend for many years. She is a sweet girl, but strong as steel on the inside. All things considered, I don’t understand why she seems hung up on you, but I don't want to see her get hurt.”

That brought Tyrial up short. What exactly did that mean? Did Gabriel think Rella was romantically attracted to him? Tyrial very much doubted that, but then he understood so little about emotions, human or otherwise. By the Void he was confused, and every time someone told him something that was supposed to help, it only got worse. Tyrial didn’t think that Gabriel, however, was the right person to talk to about that.

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Tyrial repeated.

Gabriel gave a small nod, then said, “Very well. Also, there's no need to be quite so formal, especially when we're not on the bridge. I do appreciate the respect but you can call me Gabriel if you like, and you don’t have to wait to be dismissed, if that’s why you’re still standing there.”

Relaxing slightly, Tyrial let a small smile slip onto his face, then said, “Thanks… Gabriel. I promise I will do my best not to screw this up.”

Smiling, Gabriel said, “That’s more like it. There's a map of this planet on your PA if you need it, I’ll notify you when we're almost ready to head out.”

Nodding to Gabriel, Tyrial turned and left the captain's ready room. Heading down the hall and to the left he stopped in front of the large airlock leading out of the ship. He knew what he needed to do next. He was going to put aside everything he had just learned about Gabriel and concentrate on the one thing he needed to do most right now, wrap his head around this crew. That task started with Rella.

Opening the airlock, he walked out of the ship and down the landing ramp to the pad below. Looking around he tried to get his bearings. The captain had said that Rella was probably just outside the east gate of the compound. Consulting his PA, Tyrial saw that east was to his left. Looking in that direction, Tyrial saw the top of one of the large walls that surrounded this compound rising over some small buildings.

Heading down the stairs at the edge of the landing pad, he made his way out onto the paved streets of this small walled town. There was almost no one else on the streets and the few Tyrial did see looked very much like military personnel. Most of the buildings he passed had small windows and reinforced doors. Between the buildings, the walls and Gabriel's recent revelations, Tyrial had a strong suspicion of the nature of this compound.

He suspected that anyone being overly nosy, however, would find their welcome worn out. And since he had promised Gabriel he would do his best not to screw this up, he decided to keep his curiosity to himself, for now. So, doing his best not to look curious, he made his way to the east wall and the large gate set into it.

The guards standing at either side of the open gate barely gave him a second glance as he walked through. Tyrial noticed a third guard standing off to the side of the gate who was most definitely watching him closely. Whatever he saw though, he apparently decided wasn’t a cause for concern.

Just outside the gate to the compound, Tyrial saw a dirt road heading left and right, with a smaller dirt path leading straight ahead. There were no signs, but Tyrial figured the path directly ahead was likely where he wanted to go. Just as he was about to start in that direction, he heard slight movement behind him. Turning he saw Rella leaning against the outer wall, looking at him.

Seeing her leaning there, her bright blue eyes staring at him, caused Tyrial no small measure of discomfort. Trying to distract himself from her stare, he took in the scene in detail. Rella stood leaning against the gate, her straight blonde hair coming just below her shoulders seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Her light blue eyes, usually so demure, were now filled with determination. Her thin lips with a light sheen of lip gloss formed a frown that tugged at the remnants of his heart. The light green sundress with brown highlights made her look like a forest nymph. In one hand she held a small wooden box with intricate designs on it. All in all, his attempts to distract himself were a complete failure.

Rella stood and walked towards him. Somehow in those few steps Tyrial managed to break the spell that had taken over his mind. As she closed the space between them, Tyrial began to open his mouth to begin the talk that was so long overdue. Before he could get a word out however, Rella spoke.

“Walk with me, please,” was all she said. Without waiting for an answer, she started off down the path Tyrial had been about to take.

Tyrial didn’t have much choice and turned to follow her, in a few long steps he caught up to and then matched her pace. For a few moments he walked in silence. His brain was working overtime trying to put together a remotely coherent apology. In the end he decided that planning wasn’t going to work for him, he would just have to wing it. “Rella — “ he began.

“Not yet. Just a little further,” she said.

Letting out a small sigh, Tyrial closed his mouth and walked beside Rella in silence. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get his chance to talk just yet, Tyrial looked around at the path they were following. It seemed to be a fairly dense forest with no development. Probably one of hundreds of such forests used to supplement the air reclamators that oxygenated the atmosphere of the terraformed planet.

Tyrial noticed that some of the trees here were almost half a meter in diameter and very tall. This must have been one of the first areas seeded during the terraforming process. As they walked down the path the trees became even wider and the undergrowth more sparse as the taller trees blocked out the light of the sun on the forest floor.

It was amazing how much like Earth these terraformed planets looked. Even Antares III had plant life very similar to Earth's and that was there before anyone from Earth had ever visited. It reminded him of his xeno history books so many years ago when he had read theories about why alien races and alien planets had so much in common with Earth, or perhaps why Earth had so much in common with aliens.

The Ancients, as the books had referred to them, were a race older than time and long since gone that predated any other known race or inhabited planet. The books said that this progenitor race was responsible for all of the known races, as well as the fortuitous configuration of stars and planets seen in their part of the galaxy. Many historians even claimed the Ancients were responsible for the supermassive black hole known as The Void that sat in the center of the cluster of stars all the known races called home.

Bringing himself back to reality, Tyrial noticed that the forest path was starting to widen out. It looked like there was a clearing ahead and Tyrial could hear the sound of running water. As they cleared the last of the tall trees, Tyrial saw one of the most beautiful places he had ever been personal witness to. They came out into a hollow bowl where very few trees grew. The center of the bowl was occupied by a large sparkling lake. The edges of the bowl from where they came into it sloped upwards to a cliff face about thirty meters high at the back of the lake. From the top of that cliff fell a waterfall into the lake below.

About ten meters from the edge of the lake, Rella came to a stop. She still wasn’t looking at Tyrial, facing the water she clasped her hands in front of herself, the box still held between them. As she stood there, Tyrial felt like perhaps this was the place she had been aiming for. Gathering his thoughts, he tried once again to formulate something intelligent to say that didn’t make him sound like an adolescent.

Suddenly and without warning, Rella spun on her heels and facing Tyrial, she bowed her upper body almost to a forty-five degree angle and said, “I sincerely apologize for offending you, please forgive me.”

Tyrial stood there like a pole-axed ox, barely noticing that the small box had fallen from her hands onto the ground. If his thoughts had been in disarray before, they were now abandoning his mind like bureaucrats from a tax bill. He stood there for hours, or perhaps only several seconds, staring at Rella as she stared at the ground in front of him. Somehow through sheer luck, his mind managed to churn out a useful thought. She was waiting for him to reply. Finally the absurdity of the situation shocked his mind back into a semi functional state.

Like a ponderous ship with undersized engines, his mind lurched slowly into motion. “What?” was the most intelligent thing he could say at first. As Rella looked up from where she was still bowing in front of him, his mind began to pick up speed. He continued, “Wait, no. If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me. I snapped at you and shut a door in your face.”

Slowing straightening, Rella’s face still held a hint of guilt and shame. Taking a shallow breath, she said, “But, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, I just… I felt so helpless. I couldn’t do anything for you and I felt... I felt sorry for you. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Please forgive me.”

The fact that she had, in fact, been pitying him stung a bit. But he realized how unreasonable he had been. Even though his assumption was correct about her feelings at the time, what he had done in response was an overreaction. He should be happy that someone cared enough to feel sorry for him. And this wasn’t the type of pity that had so often driven him into a fury. Rella was not just feeling sorry for him and moving on. She was doing everything she could to help him, even apologizing to him for a problem he himself caused.

He was frustrated at his ineptitude, ashamed of his actions, and most of all he was angry with himself for causing so much trouble. He still didn’t understand why his emotions had gotten the better of him, he thought he’d long since mastered the ability to control such things. She had only been trying to help him fit in since the first day they met. Confusion swirled in his mind, both in regards to his past actions and as to his future ones. As he opened and closed his mouth several times trying to find the right words, his frustration built. As his mind churned, his imagined attempts at eloquence became more and more laughable.

He had no idea what made him do it. If someone had pinned him down with a knife to his throat he would not have been able to find even the smallest fraction of the thoughts that led him to do it. Out of all of the out of character things he’d done in the last several days, this one could surely have taken the prize. Purely on instinct, because that's all he had left, he took two steps towards Rella, closing the distance between them. Standing directly in front of her, and to an extremely surprised look on her face, he hugged her and said, “I’m sorry.”

At first she stiffened in his arms and he almost released her as his shocked mind realized what he had just done. Before he could fully re-engage his senses however, she relaxed and rested her head on his chest. As Tyrial stood there holding her, he tried to figure out what in the Void had caused him to hug her. The floral scents of her hair, the softness of her body, and two soft orbs which were pressed against him, however, kept him from any substantial coherent thought.

Without the ability to think, Tyrial was unable to process the passage of time. He simply stood there holding Rella with a vague sense of confusion and, strangely for him, contentment permeating his mind. Some small part of his mind railed against his current situation, trying to tell him that contentment was dangerous. Contentment was death. But the voice was insignificant in the face of the small Zertha’s warmth and Tyrial barely heard it.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Rella finally pushed gently against Tyrial’s arms. Releasing her, he watched as she took a small step back and looked up at him. On her face was a smile much like the one Tyrial had seen the first time he had met her. For some reason that smile made him feel infinitely better. The towering frustration and resentment towards himself he had been dealing with was suddenly muted to a dull muttering. Unfortunately however, it did nothing to help him think.

Still smiling, Rella took another small step back. Glancing down her face suddenly took on a hint of guilt again as she quickly bent to retrieve the small wooden box that lay open on the ground at her feet. Tyrial could see the brooch she had worn in her hair when he met her was contained in it. Quickly closing the box, Rella looked up at Tyrial while lightly biting her lower lip. Holding out her hand to Tyrial, she said, “Please, come sit with me, I need to explain.”

Still not trusting himself to say anything intelligent, Tyrial simply took her hand and let himself be led. As Rella took him down towards the lake and then to the right around it’s edge, Tyrial’s inner voice of warning began to gain volume. About halfway around they came to a rocky outcropping that looked as though it had been lightly shaped by artificial means. About five meters away from the water's edge were what appeared to be several one meter long stone benches.

By the time Rella reached the first bench and sat on one side of it, Tyrial’s mind had kicked into overdrive. Something began to feel wrong, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his inability to justify his recent actions to himself was beginning to cause a mild panic in him. Rella released Tyrial’s hand and patted the unoccupied area of the seat next to her. By this point, Tyrial was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He considered making some excuse to return to the ship, then felt ashamed at his cowardly thought. Sitting as close to the opposite edge as he could, he steeled his nerves and waited.

Taking a deep breath, Rella held the small wooden box in both her hands and began to speak. “First, I need to apologize for this,” she said, indicating the box in her hands. “It’s a family heirloom that's been passed down for generations in my family,” Rella said. “Father Mella gave it to me b-before…,” with a small hitch in her voice, she took another small breath and continued. “It has a calming effect for me, and for those in my immediate vicinity. It… It might be having a more acute effect on you for some reason. I don’t know why.”

Keeping her eyes glued to the box in question, she said more quietly, “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to cause you so much trouble. I won't wear it anymore.”

Tyrial breathed out slowly, his mind beginning to clear once more and racing to understand what he’d just been told. He’d heard rumors of the Zyrtha, many of those rumors involved their supposed mind reading abilities, but some mentioned various mood and mind altering artifacts as well. His knowledge of xenology was extremely limited to put it mildly, but apparently this was one rumor he could put in the confirmed box.

Now somewhat more curious than uncomfortable, Tyrial asked hesitantly, “Does it do anything else? Like… modify thoughts or actions?”

Shaking her head, Rella continued to keep her face down. She said, “No, it just exudes a calming aura. It helps me not… freak out… when I have to negotiate with people. People have told me they feel a little more content when they hold it or stand near me. Most people have said they barely notice the effect at all.”

A few seconds passed, then Rella continued, “I swear, it was not my intention to… to… modify your t-thoughts.” The last words were said quietly with a small hitch in her voice.

Tyrial was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. This brooch caused people to feel calm or content? No wonder he was freaking out. Those feelings were so forign and alien to him. Even if it did have only the mild effect Rella claimed, that would likely account for most of his recent actions. Perhaps he was seeing the person he would have been if he hadn’t been looking over his shoulder every minute of every day looking for the Conclave.

Tyrial’s recent conversation with Gabriel came back to him. He was supposed to be gentle with the small Zyrtha’s feelings and here she was almost crying already. Tyrial thought for a second about the other things Gabriel had said. Perhaps a little calming wouldn’t be a bad idea to help him become what Gabriel said he needed to be to be part of the Opposition.

Decision made in the spur of the moment, and apparently, without the assistance of the small brooch, Tyrial moved closer to Rella on the bench. When she looked up, Tyrial could see unshed tears in her eyes. Trying his best to put what he hoped was a friendly smile on his face, he slowly moved his hands over to hers which still held the box. Opening it, he gently took out the small brooch from it’s soft confines.

Tyrial took a deep breath when his fingers touched the brooch. The waves of calm and contentment that washed over him felt alien. Rella made no move to stop him, she just looked at his face with a questioning look of her own. Slowly, he moved the brooch up to Rella’s hair and carefully slid the combs into it. Snugging the brooch to make sure it wouldn’t immediately fall out, he returned his hands to his lap and said, “Now that I understand, why don’t you keep it on. Maybe it's for the best.”

The sad expression on Rella’s face turned to one of surprise, then of happiness as Tyrial placed the brooch on her head. Reaching up she touched it gently, then looked back to the now empty box in her lap. “Thank you,” she simply said.

For a few minutes they simply sat next to each other, not saying a word. The calming effects of the brooch were muted now that he was no longer touching it, but still very obviously present now that he knew what to look for. Tyrial felt like he should be saying something more, either in regards to the brooch or his earlier lackluster apology. As Tyrial sat there feeling useless, Rella suddenly leaned against his side, resting her head on his arm. Tyrial felt as out of place as a clown at a funeral. But he certainly wasn’t going to push her away.

“This place reminds me of home,” Rella said quietly. “The trees on Sirin IV were larger, and the leaves more yellow than green. But it was peaceful, like this. I remember the smell, so pure and fresh, unspoiled by pollution. The hills of Bajorin were my favorite of all, there were hundreds of waterfalls like this one. Crystal clear lakes by the thousands, nothing but forest and nature as far as the eye could see in any direction. I used to spend entire days wandering around them with Father Mella.” She paused briefly, then asked, “What was it like where you grew up?”

As Rella spoke, Tyrial started to relax. With her talking, he didn’t feel the lack of his own social capacity as acutely. The feel of her against his arm started to feel nice; he finally noticed she had laid her hand over his on the bench between them. He wasn't sure how much of this was due to the presence of the brooch, but for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable in the presence of another individual. As Rella finished talking, her question sat quietly in the air between them. Tyrial decided that regardless of whether it was the brooch or her soft voice, for her, he would let down his walls, a little. He was a bit curious about this Father Mella she mentioned, not quite sure how such titles worked in her culture. However, he decided to answer her questions instead.

“I don't remember anything of where I was born actually,” Tyrial said. “Even as far back as my earliest memories, we were always jumping from planet to planet, place to place. I suppose if I had to pick a favorite it would be Mars, Sol IV as most people call it now. The forests were young there in most places, but the red sands were pretty, and the cave systems were always fun to explore. My mother didn’t like me wandering them though, she was always afraid I’d get lost.”

Mentioning his mother unexpectedly brought more pain with it than Tyrial had expected. He stopped talking suddenly and clenched his jaw, feeling tears just on the edge of falling. Rella squeezed his hand with hers and brought her other hand up to place on his arm, then she began to talk again.

“I know what that's like. I was an only child,” Rella said. “Growing up my fathers never let me stray very far by myself. At least not when I was young. I didn’t get to see my mother or father Velt much because she was a lead negotiator for the Sylvan council and he was her assistant. Father Mella would take me on walks all the time though; he loved the majesty and beauty of nature.” She stopped for a second, looking around at the trees around them with a sad expression. Finally, she said, “I loved father Mella a great deal.”

Tyrial didn’t miss the plural Rella put on her use of fathers. If he understood correctly, that meant she had three parents. Tyrial was even more curious now, but didn’t want to interrupt Rella as it seemed she was struggling with a painful memory.

Rella’s voice hitched, pain evident on her face. She took a deep breath and continued, “When I was a little over thirty, father Mella got sick. Very sick. The doctors said it was systemic and there wasn’t much they could do. Mother and father Velt were away at a conference with the Karachi over some trade deal. I begged them to come home; I told them how ill father Mella was and how much he wanted to see them. They promised they would leave as soon as they could.” With the sound of deep aching sadness in her voice, she finished, “Three days later father Mella died.”

Tyrial could feel wetness coming through the sleeve of his shirt. He realized Rella was crying, tears streaming down her face. Tyrial didn’t know what to say but he felt he had to say something, do something, to stop those tears. He started to say, “Rella —”

“Let me finish, please,” Rella said through her tears. “If I don't say it now, I’ll never work up the courage again.” She took another steadying breath and squeezed Tyrial’s hand harder. Tyrial squeezed back and put his left hand over the one she still had on his arm. She continued, “They didn’t make it back until four days after father Mella had passed. I later found out that they not only didn’t leave when I had told them that father Mella was ill, they only stayed to make sure the deal they had already finished brokering didn’t have any problems.” The sadness in her voice was being quickly replaced with resentment. She continued, “Their work was more important to them than saying goodbye to father Mella. I have never forgiven them for that. I... I left Sirin four months later, left Zyrtha space entirely. I’ve never been back, I don't even know if Mother or father Velt are still alive.”

She said the last part in almost a whisper. Tears were still streaming down her face and her body shook slightly with the sobs she was trying to hold back. Tyrial had never been on the receiving end of such an outpouring. He did understand, however, exactly how such raw repressed emotions could hurt when you dredged them up. He tried to think of what he would want someone to say to him to help with that kind of pain, and he realized there really was nothing you could say.

Tyrial was terrible with other people and he knew it. He had no idea how to handle them, he had no idea how to even handle himself. But so far this day, his instincts had surprisingly served him pretty well, so he let them continue to run the show. To that end, he gently pushed Rella off of his arm. She looked up at him in confusion for a second, tears still rolling down her cheeks as he removed his hand from hers. He moved his arm around her and pulled her back to his chest. With a slight smile showing through the tears, she laid her head on him and put her own arm around his waist. For the next several minutes she cried softly on his chest until her tears ran out.

Tyrial had never been so emotionally intimate with another person in his entire life. He still found the experience frightening in a way he could not entirely quantify as he glanced briefly at the brooch sitting on Rella’s head. He had no idea at all where the instincts driving his actions were coming from, his mother most likely. They seemed to be appropriate but he had no idea why. Still, some part of him, a part that had always been balancing on a knife's edge, was for the first time, starting to relax.

For the next hour Tyrial sat there, holding Rella and watching the sun cross the sky towards the horizon. As he sat there, he thought about his relationship with Rella. He knew he couldn’t afford to get romantically involved with someone. He was still unpredictable, unreliable, and filled with too much anger, no matter how calming that brooch was. Not to mention a romantic relationship would inevitably lead to him sleeping with her. He only had to think back on the current state of his nightstand to know why that was a bad idea.

Still, perhaps they could be friends. A friend was a concept Tyrial was not entirely familiar with, but for this small sweet girl in his arms he was willing to give it a shot. Thinking over what she had told him about her past, he realized suddenly why she had done it. She had used her own tale of suffering to distract him from his pain. It seemed only fair then that he tried to do the same for her. Besides, he thought that perhaps with her in his arms and that brooch of hers, for once he might be able to get through the tale without breaking down. If he kept it short.

Taking a deep breath, he began, “I never really understood at first why we had to move around so much, why it was so important to keep to ourselves. My father was never around much in those early days. I never knew where he went or what he was doing but mother always seemed to be worried. In all honesty, those were probably the happiest days of my life, living in ignorance.”

As he started talking, Rella tightened her grip on his waist but said nothing. Tyrial continued, “Things changed shortly after I turned ten. When I hit puberty my powers manifested. After that I got a lot more attention from father than I had before. That attention was all in the form of lessons though. Father did his best to impart every piece of useful knowledge he had about being a Mage. Somewhere along the way I found out that father had once been part of the Conclave but for some reason he had left them just before I was born. While father spent more and more time with me, mother seemed to grow more distant.”

Tyrial remembered the day he had asked his mother for help with his math studies and she had told him she needed to finish cleaning their clothes. Except he knew she had already finished. Tyrial couldn’t bring himself to relate that part, even remembering it caused a deep ache that threatened to turn loose the tears he was only just holding back. Taking another deep breath he inhaled the floral scent emanating from Rella’s hair. The smell and the feel of her against him calmed his emotions, or at least that's what he told himself. She didn’t say anything to interrupt the silence this time, somehow sensing that he wanted to go on but just needed a moment.

Mastering himself, Tyrial continued, “We continued to hop from location to location, sometimes more often than before. I suspect now that much of that moving was necessitated by me. Father always wanted me to practice my abilities as often as possible, but I’m fairly sure that that practicing elicited unwanted attention on more than one occasion. I think he was worried the Conclave would catch up with us sooner than later and he wanted me prepared.” Tyrial stopped for a moment, this was the hardest part. He had never told anyone before, but Rella deserved to know, after all she had done for him.

“When they came,” Tyrial said, “I was nowhere near prepared. I was sixteen at the time and I had only seconds of warning from my father bursting in through the back door before they stormed the house we were staying in.” Tyrial swallowed hard, he could feel wetness sliding down his face now and he could feel Rella hugging him with both arms. Tyrial realized if he tried to go into any detail he wasn’t going to get through this, so he rushed through the next part. “My mother was killed almost immediately, my father took a few of the Conclave out before they killed him as well.”

Tears were now beginning to flow down Tyrial’s face. After those first few days he had never again let himself cry over this. Surprisingly, however, with Rella holding him tightly, he found it didn’t hurt quite as badly as he had expected it to. There was more though, there was the part where he had become the monster he claimed to loathe. He had thought that part would be easier than the part he had just told. Strangely, he was finding it difficult to go on. He was finding it very hard to admit that he had ruthlessly killed over a hundred Conclave: officers, crew, clerks, everyone. Apparently not even the Opposition had attributed that masacre to him given Gabriel’s sadly inaccurate death toll.

Tyrial opened his mouth several times trying to get started on the last part he needed to tell. As he struggled to find the words to admit what he had done, Rella picked her head up off of his chest. Looking into his eyes, she placed her fingers over his mouth.

“It’s ok,” she said, “that's enough for now.” With that, she laid her head back down on Tyrial’s chest and wrapped her arms around him. Letting a shudder run through him, Tyrial let go of the memories from that masacre. Breathing deeply, he calmed his heart and his mind. Tyrial felt more at peace than he had since before he had learned how heartless the universe was. At the center of that peace though, there was still a roiling blackness. The knowledge of the ruthless person he had become after his parents’ death. Even though he had realized the monster he was becoming, even though he had tried to change, he still felt that he didn’t deserve the kindness Rella was showing him.

As they sat there together, soothing each other's pain, Tyrial made a new entry in his list of priorities. No longer was his first priority to end the Conclave at any cost. Tyrial realized now, that there were some costs too high to pay, no matter the potential gain. One of those costs he would never pay was resting her head on his chest, holding onto him like the universe depended on it. Tyrial hugged her tighter, vowing to himself that he would never let her come to harm, even if it meant losing a chance to bring down the Conclave.

Maybe this was the first step on the road to forgiving himself for all the harm he had caused. Maybe, someday, he could forgive himself for causing his parents’ death. Maybe, someday, he could forgive himself for killing hundreds of innocent people in retribution for his own mistakes. Tyrial rested his cheek on the top of Rella’s head and dreamed of a day when he could let himself be happy.

For now, however, he would worry about keeping this kind, caring woman who had soothed his soul safe. They sat there, holding each other for hours as the sun set below the horizon. It was several hours after dark before they returned to the ship, Rella with a new smile, and Tyrial with a new purpose.