Chapter 3
(Goodbyes)

It was not until after dinner that Vathion finally made the connection. He had been sitting in his room looking at the things he would not be able to take with him, wondering about his mother’s sensibilities when she had stormed in and thrown his work clothes into his suit cases and some random items from around his room, like an autographed Graviball and a photo album he kept on his dresser. She had not said a word, but Vathion had not had the heart to argue with her about it when her eyes were red from another bout of tears and she was still sniffling.

So there he sat, on the edge of his bed, wondering how he was going to get to sleep and it was only sunset when the thought had occurred to him. Dropping his head into his palm, he hissed.

“What?” Jathas asked from where the Hyphokos was sprawled on the carpet, coloring a drawing he had just finished of someone’s impressive garden.

Standing up, Vathion turned and threw open his suit case and fished out Natan’s will, “The Gannatets,” he said, “they’re... why didn’t I notice before? I’m so dense!”

Sitting up, Jathas frowned at him, “Vathion - there’s no need to talk abo-” Vathion stepped over him, heading out the door of his room, and the Hyphokos sprung up to follow, “Talk about yourself like that!” he finished, scuttling on all fours after Vathion’s heels. “Where are you going?”

“Mom, I’ll be at the Gannatet’s,” Vathion called, did not wait for an answer, and barely missed shutting the door on Jathas.

Dodging in front of Vathion, Jathas stood on his hind feet, hands outstretched, “Now wait a sec, Vath, don’t do anything rash!”

Pausing, Vathion shook his head, “Not rash. They deserve to know. If you’re going to come, then do so, but don’t stop me.”

Jathas’s ears folded down, and the tip of his tail twitched before he sighed and stepped aside. As Vathion passed, he leapt up and grabbed hold of Vathion’s leg which he climbed up to his Gilon’s shoulders and hung there. “You’re right,” Jathas agreed finally, “They do need to know, but it’s not like anyone told you who they were.”

“Everyone just assumes I know everything - like Dad does,” Vathion muttered. “Just because I’m his son doesn’t mean I’m perfect like him.”

Before Jathas could think of a good answer, Vathion had reached his destination and knocked. It did not take long for the door to open, and Midris Gannatet stared at Vathion in confusion. “It’s a bit late for you to be out, son,” he said. Midris was tall, perhaps only an inch taller than Vathion, with white streaked dark hair that in the right light looked violet. Vathion had never thought about it, but Natan really did look like the best part of his parents put together. Ameda was thin and agile with those same blue eyes, Midris was a bit on the blocky side but had the height, hair, and the grin, when he decided to show it.

“Yeah... um. Can I come in?” Vathion asked nervously.

Confused, Midris stepped aside, and the young man stepped in. “Is that Vathion?” Ameda called, then stepped into the living room from her own kitchen. “Vathion! What a surprise,” she smiled, having regained her composure in the intermittent hours between their last meeting and now. Vathion felt awful, knowing that what he was about to tell them would probably destroy them with grief.

“Gramma,” he greeted, which stopped her in her path - he had never called her that before. Jathas dropped down to the floor as Vathion took a step forward and handed the paper he had brought to Midris, then grabbed Ameda into a tight hard hug. “I wish people would tell me things!” Vathion sniffled, “It would have been nice to know! I hate being the last to know!”

There was a thump behind him as Midris abruptly sat down. “This - this is ...a joke... right?” he stammered, sounding shrill.

Opening her eyes, Ameda stared over Vathion’s shoulder at her mate, “Midris?” she asked even as she disengaged from Vathion and went to kneel beside her mate. “Midris, what’s wrong?”

Slowly turning, Vathion could not help but stare at them, tears blurring his vision as he tried to hold them back. “I’m ...sorry. I ...had to tell you. It was only fair - he probably didn’t send you guys anything.” Vathion refrained from saying that it was not surprising - since Natan had been such a bad father, why should he be any better as a son. This was not the right time to say things like that.

Ameda choked, falling against Midris’s shoulder as she read the paper. “This - isn’t true!” she stared up at Vathion, eyes wide. “Oh please - say it’s just one of his sick jokes!”

“Ma’Gatas sent me that,” Vathion whispered, “This afternoon. I’m sorry - I should have come over earlier. I ...”

“Hasabi - is your mother all right?” Midris demanded.

Snorting and swallowing, Vathion jerked his chin up in a nod, “Well enough. I think being separated so long helped. We’re leaving tomorrow... He said he had everything set up for her in his letter...” Not that Vathion really knew what all that entailed, but Hasabi had. Apparently Midris did too, and nodded.

“At least he’s looking out for her.”

Stumbling to her feet, Ameda came back to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, “Oh Vathion!” she sobbed into his shoulder and he lifted his arms to help support her. “I hate this war! It’s taken both my sons from me and now you!”

Shaking his head, Vathion said, “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go, but Mom’s making me, and I can’t just leave the Fleet hanging like that... Gramma, I’ll call as often as I can. I promise.”

Midris finally managed to get to his feet and came to his mate and grandson, putting his arms around them both, “You’d better,” he whispered.

Licking his lips, Vathion slipped an arm around Midris as well and closed his eyes, letting the mingled scents of the Grandparents he had never known he had ease his heart some. Likely they were taking just as much comfort in his smell, since Hasabi had often told him he smelled more like his father than he did her. “Please... please don’t tell anyone about this? About... Dad... it would cause chaos and panic and who knows whether it’s a Rebel plot or something and letting it get out would just play right into their hands.”

“We won’t say a word,” Midris promised, “We’re already used to not speaking about him... Stay safe, Vath, for our sakes. You’re our only grandchild.”

Managing a laugh, weak as it was, Vathion promised in return, “I will - I’m rather fond of my skin, I’ll keep it intact.”

* * *

Vathion leaned his head against the window, watching as the early morning landscape passed outside. It was a familiar route, one he took nearly four days out of the week to and from his job at the Intergalactic Café. #A little late to send my boss a notice,# he said to Jathas.

#Hm. Maybe a note once we get there? I mean... it'd be polite, I guess. But I think he'll figure out that you're not coming back to work soon enough.#

#True.#

He had not gotten much sleep - having spent half the night with Ameda and Midris - Hasabi had joined them after a few hours, looking wretched. It had not been until early morning that Vathion had gotten the nerve to get up and get out of bed, and after taking off his shirt to shower, had thought better of dropping it into the dirty clothes. Instead, he had wrapped it with a picture of himself and his mother and snuck over to the Gannatet house to set on their front step. It was all he could really give them that would be of real sentimental value.

He stared at the sunrise, knowing that he would never see this again. #It's still not registering. Or maybe I don't really care about sunrises as much as I should?#

#Or maybe it's pretty, but you've always been more interested in space?# Jathas suggested.

#I didn't say goodbye to Mirith. She's going to be pissed.# He shivered with a cold that was not physical. At least he had Jathas, without which, Vathion felt he would have fallen completely apart and been unable to function at all.

#I doubt that,# Jathas said, currently merged with Vathion, #you’re stronger than you think. Just quit comparing yourself to Natan! It does you no favors.#

Hasabi freed a hand from driving and touched his where it lay in his lap. “It’ll be all right...”

“Mom... why can’t you come with me?” Vathion pleaded again, turning to look at her. She had her hair pulled up into a bun on the back of her head but her bangs and some shorter strands had already escaped it. Eika was merged with her, the Bondstone in her forehead bright green as the hyphokos's eyes.

Hasabi shook her head without taking her eyes off the road. “I’m sorry, I can’t... Vathion. If I’m taken prisoner it would prevent you from doing what you needed to do. Your father set this up with me a long time ago... Someone will pick me up at Ika Station and take me to somewhere safe. He set that up with me so that you and I would be protected no matter what happened to him.”

Hanging his head, Vathion looked down at their linked hands, “Can’t I go with you?”

Again, she shook her head, “No. Vathion, no more of this! You’ve got a fleet to run, and I’d only get in the way. Please understand, Vathion, please!” Tears were visible in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. “You’re old enough to be on your own, hon. You’ll do fine.”

‘You just don’t want me to watch you die...’

Turning his hand, Vathion clasped hers tightly, but she removed it and took hold of the steering wheel firmly. Flopping back in his seat, he closed his eyes and turned his face away.

“Vathion, quit pouting. It doesn’t suit you,” Hasabi said. “You are capable of doing it. I believe in you.”

She pulled into the lane that led to the parking garage and rolled down her window as they came to the booth to get a ticket for parking. “What about the car?” Vathion asked as they went past the raised bar and into the multilevel garage.

“Midris will come pick it up,” Hasabi said. "He's taking care of the house too."

Scrunching down in his seat, Vathion watched as they went up a level and found a parking space.

Opening the door, he stepped out and moved around to the trunk as Hasabi popped it and began pulling out their luggage. His mother came to join him and pinched his arm, “Vathion, I told you to stop pouting,” she hissed, then moved to hug him. “It’ll be all right,” she reassured gently then let him go and picked up her baggage. “It’ll be all right,” she said again in a slightly lower volume, then waited while he gathered his things before heading towards the main building.

Sighing, Vathion hauled his luggage after his mother, having a tough time carrying all the extra bags she had insisted he pack after they had gotten back from the Gannatet’s house. He could live with three outfits for years, but she was absolutely sure he would need every scrap of clothing he had as well as every book he owned and a bunch of other dead weight stuff. Somehow, he managed to make it into the main building and hurried to catch up with his mother at the ticket check-in counter to get his bags loaded onto the next shuttle up to Ika Station.

Setting his bags down, Vathion turned - just in time to get a Wilsaer in his face.

“Hey, hey!” the creature said. This particular alien was typical of his species with bright green hair down to his hips, the ends ragged and fried in places from getting it caught in machinery. That hair clashed stunningly with pale yellow skin, red eyes, and a jumpsuit of sickly orange and gray. There was a bright pink bow tied onto his thin and flexible tail just below the puff of matching green hair that grew there. Otherwise the Wilsaer looked like a Gilon, at least until they moved, which was when the alternate bone structure made itself known. Wilsaer were capable of walking efficiently on all fours as well as their feet. Aside from that, their tails and flexible fin-shaped ears differentiated them from their bipedal allies. Most noticeably, the Wilsaer smelled like burnt engine grease and fried hair. Though, if someone was completely colorblind, Vestas Paamob would have been considered handsome by Gilon standards with an easy smile and finely shaped, if squared, features.

Vestas grinned from where he stood on the floor - a rare sight for a Wilsaer, who could defy gravity with personal belt units and cling to walls and ceilings with bare hands and feet. “What’s this?” Vestas continued in his language, which was a hodge-podge of several other languages. “You going up to the station?” Though it sounded random, Vestas’s choice of words reflected his respect of Vathion’s willingness to learn the proper forms and tenses to communicate with the Wilsaer, and he was honoring Vathion by orienting himself to Vathion’s point of view. He’d been crawling across the ceiling when he had spotted the young man.

Shaking his head, Vathion said, “Out beyond,” using the current slang: what he said was not what he meant at all. Literal translation to Gilon would have been, “To the bathroom.”

Vestas cocked his head to the side, flicking his fin-like ears down, then up again, tail kinked up at the end, tip twitching, “Oh! What’s the occasion?” he asked, posture excited and curious, he wanted to show Vathion off to his buddies who were lucky enough to be in space still.

He was being stared at by the ticket teller as he said, “I’m the new admiral of the Natan Fleet,” Vathion answered honestly after reading Vestas’s posture and listening to the words he chose to say. Besides, there was no point in lying. Everyone would know soon enough.

This surprised Vestas and he flicked his tail accordingly, “Ah! Well. If you ever need help, just look for a Wilsaer. Use my Name and they’d be glad!”

Giving a slight smile, Vathion said, “Thanks, Vestas, you’re a good friend.”

Cheerfully - as it was hard to get a Wilsaer depressed - Vestas flipped his ears, “You’re a good student,” he clarified, “It’ll shock the piss out of them when you talk back! Hehe! I want to hear News of it!”

Of course he did, Vathion mused then smiled slightly again with a glance around at other people who were walking past in the spaceport and looking over curiously. “It already freaks out Gilons,” he agreed. “Would I see you around anywhere?”

“Perhaps? I’m getting tired of the Mud Ball,” Vestas smirked and flipped his tail confidently as he added, “The others will miss you, though. They like not having to order anything - you already know what they like!”

Laughing, Vathion shook his head, “Lazy,” he agreed, then looked back towards the man behind the counter - who was supposed to be checking in their baggage. Meanwhile, Vestas, feeling that the conversation was over, leapt up to the ceiling, caught it with his hands, and pulled his feet up afterwards, continuing on his way towards the alien embassy on Larena.

“You... speak Wilsaer?” the man behind the counter asked, eyes wide.

Vathion shrugged, “You have to know at least seven alien languages before even knowing half of what a Wilsaer’s saying,” ...and probably still not understand them, due to the clan slang. “Vestas was my language tutor,” he said. “Are you finished?” he gestured towards the unchecked bags. Blinking, the man got back to work quickly and passed them through to the next checkpoint where they had their carry-on bags pawed through and finally they were in the waiting area for the transport to Ika Station.

Taking a seat next to his luggage on a bench, Vathion folded his arms and sighed as his mother sat beside him. “It’ll be an hour before the transport to Ika shows up, hon. Go find something to eat. You hardly touched your breakfast. I know you don’t like cold cereal.” She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. “Go, before I start embarrassing you,” Hasabi threatened when he made no move to do as she had told him.

Glowering, he got to his feet and hurried to get out of her range before she began to make good on her threat. He knew all too well that she could and would do it. Heading down the hall, Vathion found a shop that sold tea and muffins, and he purchased some before returning to his mother, taking a seat beside her again. Hasabi borrowed his tea long enough to swallow some anti-nausea pills, “I hate flying,” she told him, “Watching the ground speed out from under us...” she shivered.

“Thanks mom,” Vathion muttered around a mouthful of muffin. Swallowing, he continued, “You realize that there hasn’t been a crash in the last two hundred years?”

Smiling, Hasabi said, “I know. I just like to know there’s solid rock beneath my feet, that’s all.”

Vathion toyed with his muffin a moment before deciding to take a swallow of his tea. “I don’t know if I’ll like it up there.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hasabi insisted. “Space is in your blood. I’ve seen how you look at the stars, Vathion. You’ll love it out there.”

Shaking his head, Vathion looked towards her pleadingly, “But I don’t know how to pilot, I don’t have the nano-implants to do it, and I really don’t know how to command a fleet!” He blushed as he realized he had raised his voice shrilly just as some people were passing. They glanced towards him, then looked again. Ducking his head down, he flushed.

Laughing, Hasabi shook her head, “You do too,” she insisted, “You remember that full physical you got when you were twelve?”

Blinking at her, Vathion nodded cautiously, “You mean...”

“Um-hmm. Your father had the doctor implant you then. And don’t worry about piloting, you probably won’t ever need to, but if you do, it’s just like the first level of your Battle Fleet game,” Hasabi reassured, petting his hair back from his eyes, “Now, drink your tea. You’ll feel better.”

Though that made him wonder what type of implants Natan had gotten for him. They were probably not the standards - perhaps Grade-three? They were the most widely available if most expensive on the market. Now Grade-fours were something to drool over, with the right AI, you could have complete contact with it. Imperial Pilots just got Grade-ones, maybe ‘twos.

Pursing his lips he muttered, “Maybe I don’t wanna feel better?” Vathion did as he was told and chugged his steaming drink, then inhaled the muffin as the spaceport checkpoint continued to fill.

“Vathion Mayles?” someone called and he looked up to see his language teacher, Aola. The Serfocile and her Partner carefully strode through the crowd and Vathion rose to his feet and gave her a polite gesture of greeting. Another Serfocile, apparently of the same age and gender as the first, stepped up beside Vathion’s teacher.

Linguist Aola had silvery blue hair, like sun-touched lake water tied into a plain, but long braid that she had draped over one arm. Lifting out of that hair was a pair of thin fronds she could use in the Serfocile underwater language which used tones and body language. She had a rounded face with large dual-lidded almond shaped eyes of green, her nose was flat with thin slits of nostrils that could be closed off. Aola’s flesh was a blue-gray and she was tall and slender with swimmer’s muscles.

Otherwise she and her companion were built like sexless Gilons, but for their hands and feet being webbed and their ability to regenerate their fingers. The only way to tell gender was by whether they had slightly reflective brown-green spots on their legs or not. Not meant that they were male. Vathion had only glimpsed Aola’s legs once, and he was sure she had not meant for him to, but he’d never indicated that he knew and called her Sheh, which was a polite term to use when you did not know what gender a person was.

Her companion was Translator Steffan, her partner for many years, though he had once been her student. Vathion knew for sure that Steffan was male. Steffan had mixed blue, green, and white hair, currently cut short, the remainder of his once ankle-length hair now being prepared for weaving; Serfocile hair being strong enough to use for textiles as well as fairly fire resistant. Serfocile were all expert weavers, creating beautiful patterns that could not be found anywhere else. Aola and Steffan wore their own creations - walking advertisements for their skills.

“What’re you doing here?” Steffan asked; he had always been more informal than his partner. But then, he was Translator rank, which meant he had to learn languages the hard way rather than swipe them directly from the minds of an alien. The difference between Translator and Linguist Apprentice was how fluent the individual was, the highest rank being Linguist who had the mind-touch ability.

Aola chose to ignore the breech in proper behavior and instead nodded in greeting to Hasabi.

Vathion, knowing what he could not get away with in Aola's presence, said in correct pronunciation and grammar, “My mother and I are going to Ika Station, Sheh Steffan.” He nodded towards Aola, “And you?”

“As you have graduated,” Aola said, “We are returning to Ika Station’s Serfocile embassy, and from there, to Baelton.”

Steffan grinned, flashing his sharp fish-rending teeth, antennae quirked quizzically, “What’cha goin up there for?” he asked and Aola slapped his arm. His antennae flipped back apologetically, but did not stay there for long.

Vathion said, “My... father has requested my presence,” he decided to bend the truth, as there were other Gilon gathered and Aola's presence had drawn attention. He had seen what happened when you lied to a Serfocile - one of his classmates had not had his homework once... it had not been pretty.

Nodding, Aola said, “Ah, then best of luck to you on your trip, Vathion. And to you as well, Hasabi Gannatet.”

He gave a nod of his head and polite gesture of thanks for her well wishes, which was looked upon with a benevolent smile.

She paused before saying, “And I hope you learn the difference between Scholar and Scallop before you meet the Humans. Cecilus help us if you embarrass yourself out there, it would reflect poorly on my teaching.”

Her companion’s thin lips were pressed together firmly, but his antennae twitched. Aola gave a polite gesture and moved on as Steffan burst into giggles and winked at Vathion, “She’s proud of you, Apprentice,” he informed the young Gilon, “She just doesn’t like to admit it.” Patting Vathion’s shoulder, the Serfocile moved off to join his companion as she glided through the crowd that parted for her like water.

Flopping back down into his seat beside his mother, Vathion let his shoulders sag as Hasabi laughed behind her hand. Before she could say anything, though, the call went out over the PA, “First Class passengers for the ten-thirty takeoff, please proceed to board the transport.”

Hasabi got to her feet and began gathering her things. “Wait - we’re first class?” Vathion asked.

She smiled, “Perks of being related to your father,” she said. “Come on.”

Gathering his things, he hurried after her.

* * *

#There’s just something about flying that tires you out,# Vathion thought at Jathas. He stood staring at the crowd that had swallowed his mother and her escort.

#Or maybe you didn't sleep last night.#

#Sorry. I really didn't mean to roll on you.#

The flight up from the planet had only been an hour long and the gravitational dampeners had prevented any of the passengers from feeling the effects of exiting the atmosphere.

He swallowed. Jathas was probably right. He rubbed his eyes.

Only a few moments ago, he had been standing in the concourse next to his mother. Then a man had approached and pulled Hasabi into a hug - having apparently known her by sight. In response, Hasabi had nearly burst into tears, and after letting her go, had offered his hand to Vathion. “Ha’Vathion,” he said, “Good luck.”

Wincing slightly, but shaking the man’s hand, Vathion nodded. “Thanks... take care of her...”

“I will,” he agreed and took some of Hasabi’s bags as they started off.

Still, long after they had disappeared amidst the crowd, Vathion could not think of anything non-corny to say other than “send me lots of pictures” or “make sure to wear sunscreen.” He knew he should have been hugging her and telling her he loved her and that he would miss her. But he did none of that. Instead, he just stood there, staring until they were out of sight.

“Excuse me!” a female exclaimed, and Vathion turned to face a middle-aged woman wearing a skimpy black dress and her gray-streaked blue hair in loose curls around her shoulders. She smiled alluringly at him - sending the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. She leaned closer and sniffed in a way that was decidedly rude, “It really is you! I hope you remember me just as fondly!”

Sliding back a step, he nearly tripped over his luggage and belatedly straightened and cleared his throat, “Ah, no. Actually, no clue who you are. Sorry, but I’ve got a transport to catch!”

She reached for his arm, “Oh! Leaving so soon! But I haven’t seen you in forever! Natan!”

“Ha’Vathion,” another voice said, and both the woman and Vathion turned to look at the man that now had imposed himself between the woman and her poor unsuspecting prey. The man, who was an inch shorter than Vathion but twice his weight, had maroon hair streaked with silver tied back in a tail, and looked quite striking in the black and red uniform of the Natan Fleet. He snapped his hand down after holding his salute for a second and said, “I am Se’Zandre, your transport is waiting sir.”

Vathion caught a hint of Zandre's personal scent, wafted by his salute, and quickly identified it as family, if removed slightly. Back in slightly familiar territory, Vathion collected his wits and nodded. “Lead the way,” he said and grabbed a few bags, leaving the rest for Zandre. He really had not expected anyone to meet him, but at the same time, it wasn't surprising. #Guess I should have known they’d send someone. I’m not just another kid now.#

#You were never ‘just another kid’, Vath...despite how hard you tried,# the Hyphokos said.

Along the way, Vathion spotted a board that listed the shuttles in the bay they were entering. The Natan Fleet transport had been there for an hour, and of course it had attracted attention. He was suddenly very grateful to his mother for insisting he wear something presentable as he spotted an Ika Station News reporter standing at the edge of the crowd. The woman was giving a report that there had been no comment from Station other than that it was scheduled for a pickup. She paused to look beyond her camera at Zandre and Vathion.

She hurried forward immediately, even as the two tried to change course to avoid contact. “Sir! Wait!” she shouted desperately and caught up when Vathion and Zandre were blocked by the crowd of curious onlookers. Vathion could see the transport parked in the bay ahead, so close, yet so far.

“Sir!” she called again as her camera bobbed up beside her, pointed at him - he was sure he looked absolutely terrible on Vid and likely it was live. She stumbled to a stop when he looked at her, “You’re not Ha’Natan, are you?” she asked him interposing herself between him and the crowd, and Vathion controlled his face - removing the death glare he knew he’d greeted her with.

“I’m Ha’Vathion,” he said, deciding it was better to get them straight on his name and new title right off, then he glanced around finding Se’Zandre waiting for him patiently, looking grim and daunting, “Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll probably meet again later.”

“Wait! But - does that mean you’re -”

Lifting a hand, he placed a finger over her lips and grinned desperately at her. She was young, perhaps twenty-five or so, and blushed quite prettily at him, obviously besotted. “I have to go,” he told her and turned, hoisting his bags and shoved through the crowd, “Scuze me! Sorry!”

Quite drained already and knowing this was only the beginning, Vathion dashed for the transport after Se’Zandre. Thankfully there was no further delay, for the door automatically opened as Zandre neared it, then closed directly behind Vathion.

Jathas was laughing joyfully in his mind. #That was fun!#

Vathion reluctantly admitted that it had been - just a little. Turning, Vathion looked over the cabin of the transport and slid aside as Se’Zandre went past, looking grim and efficient as he stowed Vathion’s bags.

“What’s in this? Bricks?” he asked, grunting as he heaved one.

Sighing, Vathion shook his head, “Close. Books.” Zandre turned to look at him and Vath shrugged helplessly, “Mom helped me pack... needlessly.”

After a moment, the guard snorted what may have been a laugh, then stalked over to take the bags Vathion was still holding and stuffed them away too. “Pick a seat. Get comfortable, it’s going to be a long ride.”

Wandering down the row, Vathion finally found a seat near the front that had the most leg room and flopped into it, then shifted and stuck his feet out into the aisle. “They don’t make these things for people with long legs, do they?”

Zandre shook his head and glanced back as he slid into the pilot seat, “Not really... Look. There’s something fishy going on. I don’t know what it is - or was.”

Snorting, Vathion lounged back in his chair as best he could, “Oh really. And when is there not? Especially when Natan is involved?”

It took a moment for Zandre to answer him, for he was speaking on the com to Station, informing them of imminent departure and the need for crowd control so they could leave. Finally, Se’Zandre swiveled his chair around and said, “Your father didn’t let me in on his plans - probably because he knew I’d be against them. So I don’t know what really happened. Just know me and Logos are on your side. We’ll be giving you the same trust we gave Natan - unless you prove us wrong.”

Quirking his lips sourly, Vathion scrubbed a hand across his eyes, “Reassuring. Thank you, Se’Zandre.”

Chapter 2 ..... Chapter 4