Aria grinned and grabbed Pan’s hands. Pan sat up in bed. Her hair stuck up, reaching almost as far as her subdued aura. Pan blinked sleep from her eyes and tried to focus on Aria.

Aria waited. She crossed her legs and sat across from Pan. She’d waited for Pan’s long sleep to end. She would wait a moment longer to hear how the battle turned out, from a combatant’s point of view.

Of course, Aria knew a lot of the details. Gavain had watched out a window and narrated much of it to her, but when the Ischyros moved away, he grew quiet and said he had nothing to see.

Pan sniffed and glanced around the room. Dull blue glowed, but shades of purple began to come alive, deeper in the aura.

The shower spurted.

Pan jumped. “Sotir. Couldn’t even wait for me.”

“You can have a turn after.” Aria knew that Pan wanted to shower with Sotir, but she wasn’t about to encourage Pan to toss off her nightdress and run into the water. Aria didn’t want to wait through a shower. “Era did great!”

Pan nodded.

“And, when she got back to the ship, they didn’t turn her implant on again.” Aria’s own aura shot bursts of yellow joy. The color remained small, compared to her usual blue, but it was present.

“What are you looking at?” Pan’s eyes narrowed. She glanced down and studied the space between them. Suspicion crept into Pan’s aura.

“Uh, my aura. I’ve seen some new different colors in it.”

Pan nodded slow. “Gold? Good for you. It's too late for me.”

Aria froze. She still held Pan’s hands but realized for the first time how limp they were. “You’re a lot more gold than you used to be. In fact, you’re gold enough. I…I never meant for you to reach perfect gold. Not till we were old women anyway. If that’s even possible, or desirable.” Aria watched the barest guilt move through her own aura.

Aria really believed Pan had made most of the changes she needed to, yet Pan still fixated on that color and its role in her aura.

Pan raised her eyebrows. “Have you even met my dragon?”

Aria nodded with vigor. “Oh, yes, and I’ve seen all I want of it. I feel I know it very well.”

Pan gave Aria a short laugh. “Really? It wants to ask you to the aquarium. It doesn’t think it knows you well enough.” Lavender entered Pan’s aura, though it remained weak.

Aria smiled. “The aquarium? Does it like to swim?”

“Food to eat and glass to break.” Pan’s lavender faded, but her smile remained.

“Well, I can’t go. I promised Gavain that he could have all my date time for the next six months.” Aria finally let Pan’s hands go. She folded her own hands in her lap. “You’re really gold enough, Pan. You’ve made it. This…” Aria gestured between the two of them. “Is all I ever wanted.”

Pan sighed. “Glad you got it. Not sure I deserve it. Maybe I would, if not for that dragon.” Pan shifted and slowly pushed herself off the bed’s edge. Her feet met floor, and she stood.

Aria frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I have lessons with Gladiolus, so I can unbind you safely. Then, I can keep my best promise.” Pan walked to the door. She leaned on the frame and waved a half-hearted good-bye to Aria.

“Are you going to be alright? Are you going to get dressed?” Aria gestured to Pan’s person.

Pan glanced down. Her blue nightgown rippled, from the high waist to her feet. The fabric was thin, and the neckline plunged to a point, just between Pan’s breasts. Short fluttering sleeves hid Pan’s shoulders well, but that was the only element that truly fit the job of clothing. Pan smiled and shook her head. “It’s more than I’d usually wear anyway.”

Aria got up. She didn’t want to stay alone in Pan’s quarters while Sotir finished up his shower. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m just conserving energy for this.” Pan keyed the door open. Before she stepped out, she scooped up her materials, including a plush animal that waited atop the papers and pencils.

The shower stopped.

Pan beckoned. “Hurry. I don’t want another lecture about Gladiolus and how he affects me.”

Aria quickened her pace and stepped through the door before Pan. Pan slipped out next, and the door closed behind them.

“Well, I would like to be unbound, but I think you can figure it out on your own.” Aria clasped her hands in front of her and strolled at Pan’s side.

Few strong colors wafted in the hall, signifying a certain degree of exhaustion among those aboard ship.

Pan’s aura moved in rays of grey, but some pink fogged on the interior. “I don’t want to hurt you, so I’m going to get lessons. This is a hard circle, and I couldn’t live with myself if I...”

Aria took Pan’s arm. “I trust you not to hurt me. Now, when you’re all done with Gladiolus, why don’t we see if we can help your ghost friend?” Aria thought a gold act might just be enough to cheer Pan up.

“I asked Alban, and he said no. He says it’s just a body.” Pan sighed. “I know better. He’s still hanging around.”

Aria glanced side to side and wondered if the ghost moved along with them. A light flickered, and Aria grabbed Pan’s arm a little tighter.

“You can’t come with me,” Pan warned.

“I know. I’m going to get back to my room and find Gavain. Maybe, have some lunch. I’m feeling a lot better, and you know…the mentors said that this time would heal my nerves for a little while. I never knew it would be quite this much.” Aria felt great. As soon as the nausea started to fade, she found some extra reserves of energy. She felt comfortable in general.

Pan’s aura showed waves of sickly green and anxious yellow. “About that…maybe, it’s not what you think. Maybe, you started to get better before all this.”

Aria felt her eyes narrow. “Why do you say that?”

Pan hung her head. “I got something to help you on Iruedim.”

Aria’s mouth fell open. She could recall a time – many times – that Pan hovered over her bed at the break of morning or earlier. She also recalled whispered conversations between Sotir and Pan. “What kind of thing?”

“I bet on your problem being structural, and I went to Eva and Sten. They gave me nanites that I could use to repair whatever was troubling you.” Pan’s gaze jerked to Aria’s. “With your own body parts. They repaired you with your own flesh. The nanites are gone now. They don’t stick around. You’re all you…just healed.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Aria stood for a long moment. She wasn’t sure how to feel, but good was still a possibility.

Pan broke from Aria’s arm and started down the hall to the brig. “Sorry. I just couldn’t watch it again.”

Aria stared after, still not sure if sorry was necessary.

Pan sat on the floor. She held the paper up and examined the notes she’d scribbled all around the circle’s edges. She turned the paper around and pressed it to the glass, giving Gladiolus one last look at the circle, just in case he thought of some other tips to make it work.

Gladiolus, also on the floor, leaned forward. His tentacles supported him and flexed, keeping him upright and out of his center of balance.

While Gladiolus studied the circle, an officer walked down the hall, stopped by Gladiolus’ food bin and put a tray in.

The man slid it through. “There you go.” He walked away.

Gladiolus watched the man leave. He glared after the man, and then, he glared at the food. “I’m not eating that. I’ve already stomached some of your disgusting food.”

“It’s better on Scaldigir. I promise,” Pan said. “Anything else I should know about unbinding?”

Gladiolus drew back, and his tentacles settled into resting positions. “It will take a long time to relearn all of it. For whoever you unbind that is.”

“I know.” Pan let the paper fall from the door. She picked it back up and laid it upon her board, along with the pencil and the eraser.

If he said they were done, she’d get ready to flee.

“What are your people planning? To engage us for the next year and a half while you make an unbound fighting force?” Gladiolus smiled, and his narrow eyes seemed to show a good deal of ill will.

“I don’t know. I just kill who and what they tell me to.”

“You can’t last that long,” he said. “Though, if this ship survives, you’ll probably make it through. I’m sad to say, even your man will. They won’t break you up.”

Pan picked up her plush, a fuzzy porza, with black and white fur. She placed it in her lap and stroked its smooth hairs. She’d brought it because she hardly thought of Gladiolus as company.

His eyes flicked to the toy, and he laughed.

“Did you finally notice? Look at how juvenile I am.” Pan held the porza up for Gladiolus to admire.

“I think it’s too your credit. I wouldn’t want a spouse who was all fight and no nurture.” Gladiolus leaned against his bed. He appraised Pan and looked her up and down. “By the way, why so many clothes? You wore less into battle.”

Pan felt shock twist her expression. “I did not wear less in battle. I wore a grey uniform that covered me from neck to ankles. Very close fitting, but…I can see why you thought I was naked.” Pan paused and thought of her tight uniform. It was just a shade or two off her skin.

Gladiolus leaned forward again. His tentacles flexed, and he put his fingers on the see-through door. “No clothes for Volanter women in your condition. None at all. It saves on tailoring, and they don’t need clothes. Because we don’t put them in harm’s way. Under all those clothes, I bet you’re…”

Pan pulled the food drawer back out. The tray banged and interrupted whatever vaguely sexual comment Gladiolus might spew next.

“You get to decide whether I eat?” Gladiolus watched Pan and spared not even a glance for the tray.

“I’ll give it back as soon as I’m ready to go.” Pan gathered her things and scooted closer to his cell, where she put her hand against the wall to steady her rise. She gained her feet, self-conscious of the extra effort it took, especially with the animal and other items in her arms.

Gladiolus rose up on his tentacles, until he assumed a Volanter standing position. “You can’t give me a little conversation. Your people are holding me here. Poisoning me!” Gladiolus hissed. “They’ll need to let me go soon if I’m ever to be the same again, but there’s a small chance of that, isn’t there?” Gladiolus pressed himself to the clear door.

Pan pushed the drawer back. It clanged on his side of the cell, giving him access once again.

“Just eat,” Pan said. “They probably didn’t drug it. They never did that to my food.” Pan turned to go. She paused just beyond his cell. “Oh, and if you want to get out of there, I’d start showing them how you plan to live among the Scaldin. It seems to be the only ticket to freedom these days.”

Pan strode down the brig hall, feeling a bit light headed. Somewhere above that physical discomfort, she had an unease about Galdiolus’ fate. She couldn’t help him yet, but it was high time she let another poor spirit free.

No one expected her back so soon. She had time for a detour.

And, Aria said it was a gold thing to do.

Pan cast a tight anti-spirit shield around her body. Then, she did the same to the body of the deceased Volanter, Taraxacum of the Floret. He laid on the morgue floor before her. Pan studied him, at least the parts she zipped free of the bag. His face, neck, and upper chest peeked from inside. Frost created a fuzzy sheen over all.

Pan cast ghost sight.

She didn’t need to summon him. He waited inside his shield, trapped for the crime of hanging around his body.

He glared at Pan. “What do you want from me now?”

Pan said, “Nothing. I’m about to send your body into the sun, via my familiar. Haven’t you been wandering the ship, listening in on all my conversations? I thought you’d know what I came here for.”

Taraxacum studied Pan. “I don’t wander the ship. I’ve watched my people fight yours, but the rest of the time I spend in penance.” Taraxacum spread his spectral arms. “Here.”

“I’m your ticket out.” Pan raised her hand to trace the familiar circle. She brought it to mind but froze.

A dozen ghosts peeked out of the morgue doors, all Scaldin.

“It’s been getting a bit crowded here.” Taraxacum folded his hands. “From the surprise on your face, I’m guessing you didn’t know just how many of your number had died. Their bodies come over on ships and later gurneys. They’re the ones who’ll have a chance for a proper burial, unlike me.”

Pan lowered her hand. “If you’re going to whine about it.”

Taraxacum’s hand materialized. He waved it in dismissal of what he’d just said. “No, go on. I’m just saying this is not my preference.”

Pan sighed. “I’ll bite. What do you want instead?”

“I wanted to be placed inside a hollowed out, living Dipinta tree. I wanted the tree to send shoots through my broken body, back to its own, and together we would mend. I wanted my people to close me up inside, and if I was lucky, my world would continue on with the roots and branches to serve as my eyes.” Taraxacum raised his hands to the sky.

The other ghosts stood, sat, or peeked from their temporary abodes. They watched Taraxacum, with detached curiosity.

Pan took a deep breath. “I’m not doing that.”

“I knew you couldn’t honor my first choice. It’s fine. I don’t want to be buried on the planet of your people anyway.”

“It’s sacrilege to cut open a Dipinta tree.” Pan traced the circle and imagined its presence.

The circle hovered in the air, glowed, and went to smoke. The dragon hunched in its place. For once, it looked sullen to be summoned.

Taraxacum titled his head. “What did the Anther teach you? Or did you come up with that silly idea on your own? Possibly because you didn’t want to be like them.”

Pan motioned to the dragon. “It’s solemn, not petulant. Just right for a funeral.”

Taraxacum frowned. He folded his spectral hands together, and they melted into one. “If you say so. Before I go, let me leave you with this wisdom.”

Pan crossed her arms.

“No one can win this fight. It’s impossible.”

Pan bowed her head and exhaled. “That’s not really wisdom, more of a threat.”

“I mean the Volanter too. Clans separate and rejoin of their own free will. The Blath threatened to leave, and finally, the rest let them go. All it cost was thousands of lives. The Anther never threatened such an action, and that is why they are so reluctant to lose you.”

Slowly, Pan shook her head. “I think that one of us is going to win. If we don’t end up with the Volanter, we win. If they reclaim us, they win.”

“No. You aren’t like other children. You’ve been on your own so long that you will never rejoin them as they want.” Taraxacum’s form blew in a ghostly wind. He seemed to sigh. “And, unless you kill them all, you can’t have things your way. Even if you kill them all – you will regret it.”

Pan straightened. “So, what? Everyone has regrets.”

“Indeed.” Taraxacum twisted side to side and addressed the wayward Scaldin spirits. “I do not know what awaits me new, dear friends, but I know you should follow me, with haste, and leave this forsaken contract and all its living members behind.”

Pan gestured for the dragon to pick up Taraxacum’s body. She mimed a zipper motion. She didn’t need her familiar to fumble the funeral.

The dragon zipped the bag, huffed, and hefted Taraxacum’s body onto its shoulder.

“Take him into the sun.” Pan raised her wrist and checked an image of space on her bracelet. She almost laughed. She shouldn’t need an image of space to conjure a portal to space, but sometimes, her mind fogged and just wouldn’t recall the local sights.

The particular place that Pan had photographed was a point near Scaldigir’s neighbor, the gas giant. She thought it would be in range. Pan conjured the portal. It was hazy, and her head swam after the act.

Pan blinked. “Go.” She pointed through.

The dragon, with appropriate somber eyes, flew into the portal.

Pan let the portal go and caught her breath. Now, she had only to stagger back to Sotir, and they could both lay on their bed. At least, until the Volanter next decided to attack.

“You’ve kept your word,” Taraxacum said.

Pan nodded.

“We are the originators of the circles and the runes.”

Pan held her breath. Not more wisdom.

“You are part of that, and it’s beautiful. The runes and our bodies are a contract. You are in it, whether you like it or not. You can either use the runes, with their blessing. Or take them. There is no in between. But, if you take them, everyone will lose.”

Pan gestured to the door. “Right. Those regrets you spoke of.” She shook her head. “They’re not news to me.”

The ghost inclined its head and left the morgue.