“You’re finally awake.”

Pan rubbed her eyes and shifted. She felt the weight of blankets above her, some as high as her chin. Pan pushed them aside but not off. Then, she opened her eyes.

Sotir stood above her. “You shouldn’t have stayed up while you were numb. You would have slept better. Aria’s asleep too, and speaking of Aria, did you know that Gavain called today?”

Pan felt fully awake as her body grew tense. “No.”

“Aria wouldn’t talk to him. He wants her to come back through the wormhole, but she won’t go. I had to talk to him.” Sotir sat on the bed.

Pan sat up. “And, what did he say?”

Sotir picked at lint on the bed sheet. “Pan…how much have you been using the time message circle?”

So, Sotir had a look ahead, and he saw more trouble for Aria. It was as Pan feared. Aria was determined. It was inevitable. Aria would do it no matter where she was.

“I use it a lot – not for battles, but you know that.”

Sotir hummed his agreement. “I told Gavain that it would be best for Aria to stay here. He wasn’t happy with me, and he probably called Alban to try to force him to send her back.”

“We won’t let that happen, right?” Pan asked.

Sotir grabbed Pan’s hand. “I’ll do my best, but don’t feel like you have to take care of her alone. If it happens again, tell me next time. I’ll stop her.”

Pan slipped out of the blankets and crawled into his arms. “If I could just show her what it’s like to be a ghost, she’d change her mind.”

Camellia awoke in her own bed to find the sun high in the sky. She hugged a full-length pillow and blinked bleary eyes at the late morning light. She’d overslept.

She felt her body from head, to chest, to belly, just to make sure her encounter with her new pen pal hadn’t affected her in any way. Everything felt the same, from the dusty corners of her anxious brain to the subtle movements of her and Florian’s son and the subtle touch of said child’s mind.

He didn’t understand much. He conveyed only a vague sense of warmth, though it was more than the earliest stages of his life.

Camellia rolled to her back and stretched her arms above her head.

“Camellia,” Florian said from the doorway.

She startled. “Florian. Why aren’t you at work?”

“I put in enough time for two days yesterday, so I’m not going back till tomorrow.” Florian held a plate of food. He balanced it into the room and set it on Camellia’s nightstand.

Camellia scooted into a sitting position and snatched up the plate.

Florian sighed and crossed his arms. “So, I’ve been thinking about the com device.”

Camellia paused. “And?”

“Rooks got hers to work too, and they think they can use it to get some information from the attacking Volanters. It might help win a battle.” Florian glanced at her but quickly averted his gaze.

Camellia held her fork poised above the plate. “So, you’re not mad anymore?”

“Well, if non-telepaths can use it safely, it might not be as big a risk. It’s just a com.” Florian gave Camellia a sidelong glance. “Though, I do wonder why you have such a strong desire to touch these Volanter things.”

Camellia’s heartbeat quickened. “I don’t know, but I doubt they can have many more like it.”

Florian shook his head “I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I hope they don’t have many more like it. I do seem to have a problem with…Volanter artifacts.”

Florian sighed. He looked ceilingward. “She admits it. Thank god, she admits it.”

Camellia stared at him. She held food poised, halfway to her mouth.

Florian tapped her plate. “You eat. Tomorrow we’ll try it again.” Florian climbed onto the bed, over Camellia’s large pillow. He nudged past her, crawled into his place, and laid down beside her. “I’m wishing you didn’t give the prisoner such a hard test. We might give it a different one.”

“If it could do the impossible, then I’d believe it. I want to see it do the impossible.” Camellia stuck her fork into a bit of egg. She turned and looked at Florian to find him fast asleep.

Meladee scrubbed the hull of Halfmoon. She stood beneath its shadow and rubbed over her head.

Benham had gotten their little ship scorched as he attempted to flee Volanter pursuit, just on the edge of Presereme. Thankfully, the damage was superficial, and she had her new rag.

“Googly eyes. That’s what this ship needs.” Meladee worked the rag back and forth, on Halfmoon’s underside.

“They’ll fall off in superliminal travel. Might as well not bother.” Benham clunked on the top of Halfmoon, washing the grime off the opposite side of the ship. “Can I try the rag?” He reached over the edge, and his sooty hand sought the magic cloth.

“No can do.” Meladee swiped out of his reach. “This is your fault. Anyway, we’ve got to repaint this ship again, and I can’t decide what I want. Hey, what about a fat seal?”

“Ship’s flat,” Benham called back.

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He was right. The seal would look wrong.

Benham called again, “How about we make it look like a house, with a small, white fence?”

Meladee frowned. “Why’s the fence gotta be white? I prefer the look of wood.” Meladee gave a small shrug. “Still, doesn’t matter. There’s no way we’re painting our ship with such a…lame idea.” Meladee gave him an incredulous stare, even though she knew what he was getting at. He was a little jealous of the Adalhards. Meladee thought he was as nuts as the Adalhards. “Listen, I’m not taking a perfect little house into war. Sorry. Now, if we’d left the wormhole alone, we could do that, but it’s too late. If I recall correctly, you were more into shifting the wormhole than me. Something about the Finial being a really big problem if they should find the wormhole and pop through…”

“Alright. Alright. I get it. And, yes, the Volanter are worse than the Finial. But, we probably wouldn’t have beaten the Finial without some significant magic, and you know it.” Benham slid off the side of the ship and hopped to the ground. “I’m done up top – for now. How about you?”

Meladee gestured to the black marks still on the outside of the ship. “This plate might need replacing, unless we paint the ship pure black. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. I mean, Pan can slither through the battlefield on that dark familiar, maybe that would be good for us.”

“Only if we plan to be in space, and I don’t think either of us wants to take Halfmoon against Volanter fighters and warships.”

Meladee pointed at Benham. “Right you are. If we’ve got to fight, we do that from Rooks’ warships.”

“Exactly,” Benham agreed.

“You left, and I had no idea where you’d gone.” Sten paced Eva in their workshop home.

She headed towards her nanite reactors. “I just went to visit Camellia.”

“I would have liked to visit Camellia and Florian. Why didn’t you at least ask me?”

Eva stopped in the doorway. A large, open room lay beyond. It held three tanks, all filled with nanites. Some primed to Eva’s makeup. Some to Sten’s, and the last group to general repair robots. Eva had yet to test anything aside from her nanites, and she already knew those worked.

“I didn’t ask you because I wanted you to watch everyone here. If we can, I’d rather not abandon them again.” Eva looked Sten in the eyes; then, she strode into the room.

Sten followed but only for a few steps. “Eva, you really lack focus lately.”

Eva whirled. “I lack focus?”

Sten inclined his head. “Maybe, that’s the wrong word.”

“Right, that’s what you lack.”

Sten’s eyes widened. “Oh. Interesting.” Sten put a hand to his chest. “Let’s get back to you and allow me to rephrase. You are so focused on protecting Lurren and making up for past deeds, that you are blind to the possibilities around us.”

Eva stared. She was too far to reach Sten and too far to reach one of her reactors. She would have liked to be close to one to lean upon, even if that source of support had to be Sten. Such strong shock rarely coursed through her person.

“I have to do right. Then, I can focus on other things.” Eva touched her forehead. “In time, we’ll talk about your brainbox. We’ll take time for ourselves. We’ll do whatever you like.”

“I respect that viewpoint, but you have to take care of…” Sten glanced down the hall.

The whir of Tiny Tin’s wheels grew louder.

Tiny Tin wheeled into the doorway. “I broke a connection in Wheelian’s arm and injected him with nanites. If he complains to you, don’t fix it. It’s a test.” Tiny tin waved his arm as if to flaunt that his still worked.

Sten’s mouth dropped open.

Eva crossed her arms. “A cruel test.”

Tiny Tin said, “We can’t know that our nanites function, until we test them on ourselves. I can fix Wheelian. He can’t fix me. Any connection I break on Spring Peeper will result in immobility, and Ferrou doesn’t need the nanites. Wheelian is the ideal test subject.” Tiny Tin rolled past Sten and crossed the threshold of the reactor room. He kept his eye stalks withdrawn, and his eyes close to his box.

Eva looked at Sten and read his horror, in a less than subtle expression. Then, she looked at Tiny Tin. “I hope you left him somewhere comfortable.”

“He’s rolling on the sitting room floor.” Tiny Tin rolled past Eva and aimed his wheels for the nanite reactor, labeled for repair robot use.

Eva moved back towards the door. She spoke soft to Sten. “I can see that you need some help here.” Eva shook her head. “Have they all lost their minds to that long sleep?” Eva gestured to Tiny Tin. “I will take care more, when I have the chance.”

“I didn’t mean of them. I meant of you.” Sten stared into Eva’s eyes.

Eva could not decide if she wanted to look away or not. Finally, she pulled her gaze from his and set it adrift in the hall. “I need to send a message. Can you get started in here?” She touched his arm and applied small pressure.

“Sure.” He mumbled, “Don’t be long.”

“I wonder if they can lock up that communication device. Shut us out.” Alban had made himself comfortable in Rooks’ office. He relaxed in one of her chairs, hands folded in his lap. He studied the things Rooks kept on her walls, as he waited for her to engage in conversation.

She glanced up from her screen and watched him while his eyes remained busy.

Alban stared most at a picture from Rooks’ childhood. It was small and occupied a tiny space of wall. Rooks and her brother sat in a chair, just big enough to hold both their child-sized forms. Rooks, a girl of six in the photo, held Mr. Joto. Rooks struggled to read Alban’s expression. It was subtle, almost to the point that he seemed expressionless.

Alban continued, “Now that I think about it, they probably can’t close up those communication lines as they’re embedded into a piece of technology, using one of the original rings. Without intent from a caster, they can’t change the scope of the spell.” Alban tapped his finger to his lips. “But, how do they have separate lines? Or, do they have separate lines?”

Rooks shrugged. “My best guess…they don’t need separate lines. It’s up to the user to call the right person.”

“Could be,” Alban agreed.

Rooks sighed. “At least, we know that if they want us to stop listening in, they’ll have to come and take it. That’ll be hard with the improvements to our planetary defenses.”

“I hope so. They slipped right through those gaps you had before.”

Rooks had thought the ring of trap spells would hold back the Volanter. She was worried about the gaps, but they’d hidden them well, allowing Rooks’ medium sized ships to come and go. Now, only the smallest ships would be able to get through, with the triple layered trap satellites.

“We’re going to be cut off from the planet for a while, but I restocked after the last battle,” Rooks said. “Just in case.”

Alban put his hands on her desk and refolded them. He leaned forward in his chair. “We can always slip through the wormhole for supplies. Speaking of which, we’re going to have to devote a handful of ships to guarding it. We don’t want the Volanter on their way to Scaldigir.”

“We can discuss that.” Rooks swiped her screen and moved on to her next batch of paperwork.

Alban glanced at the screen. “Oh, it’s endless,” he lamented.

“Tell me about it. Girandolan paperwork was not designed with battles against magical Volanter in mind.”

Alban leaned back in his chair. “Time for a change. Let me ask you…how does it feel to be completely cut off from the place you came from?”

Rooks looked up and sat stiff.

“How did you do it? How did you leave it all behind?” Alban stared and waited.

Rooks took a deep breath. “Frankly, I didn’t have much to lose. My mom died when I was very young. I don’t even remember her. My father died when I was in my twenties. I don’t speak to my brother anymore. It was a bad fight. I couldn’t get promoted, especially not to the positions I wanted.” Rooks looked anywhere but at Alban. She studied her own walls.

The only family picture was the one he’d zeroed in on. Rooks had other photos on that wall. Photos of important times in her life, with smiling friends or coworkers. Rooks didn’t mourn the loss of Girandola, but it hit her that she could never go back. Rooks’ eyes darted to Alban. She sought his thoughts.

Alban nodded. “I have a sister. She’s always asking me to watch her kids. That’s why I’m out here.”

Slowly, Rooks smiled. “That’s not the same.”

“I realize that.” Alban stood up. “This visit has been fun, but I need to go. By the way, there won’t be a discussion, concerning that wormhole guard. I’m just informing you of what my superiors have already done. So, you only have fifteen ships to play with, though we might be able to spare three more from Scaldigir. We have enemies over there too.”

Rooks looked up from her computer, disappointed to hear she had less to work with and that he had to go. “You Scaldin seem bereft of good relationships with your neighbors.”

Alban laughed and left.