Camellia hung in the back of the bridge, thinking not about the mess of planets, asteroids, stars, and other disturbances between her and Iruedim. Camellia’s mind kept straying to the one thank-you note she hadn’t finished before they left Iruedim. Camellia’s hand, cramped from writing seventy-five notes, had regained its nimbleness. The ache left, and now her fingers itched to take up pen and write the final note that would complete her obligations.

She and Florian had both been kept busy aboard the Fauchard, but Florian more so than her. He had done some of the heavier translating tasks, those involving engineering and navigation. He’d also done all of the Volanter language instruction before it became unnecessary. After that, Florian busied himself with studying the Scaldin. She went over to have a look at the Volanter book, but he went over to interact with the people.

It was enough to make Camellia ashamed. Who cared about the book? They had a new people, albeit a distrustful one, right in front of them. Camellia was stuck on those Volanter runes, all because of a little Volanter circle that had plagued her existence before her life took a turn for the better.

Camellia fingered the piece of Obsidian mirror around her neck. The sharp edges had dulled, and the rock itself was shiny and smooth, except for a few pockmarks and imperfections. The mirror had lost its power, but the idea and spellcraft behind it had not.

Camellia even found the spell too, inside the Volanter book. The explanation for how the circle, and thus the mirror, worked was way over her head. It was over Meladee’s, Inez’s, Eder’s, and even Pan’s. The explanation for why the circle existed, the one piece of information she could have used, was absent. The Volanters thought the spell self-explanatory.

They’re a higher class of being, I suppose. The purpose of the circle was elementary in their minds.

“Alright, we’ll head in first. Ischyros will be close behind, so don’t make any mistakes,” Rooks said. “If you get a warning, signal the Ischyros, and we’ll all stop well ahead of the potential collision.”

Camellia paused and looked out the windshield. She had been dreaming about Volanters, but everyone else had been thinking about Iruedim.

Camellia winced. How did she even get on the topic of Volanters?

Oh yes, her father’s thank-you note. The two went hand in hand.

Florian took Camellia’s wrist and snaked his fingers down to meet hers. “Don’t worry. We’ll get home.”

Camellia looked up at him. “And, we’ll make it in time for you to resume your duties. They’ll hardly know you’re gone.”

Florian gave her a weak smile. “As long as we still have a house, and no one touches my bank account, it’ll be fine.”

Camellia’s heart quickened, but she got it to settle. “How long before…?”

“I don’t know. A year?” Florian shrugged. “At least by the standards of the Groazan government. The AAH would probably let those things run a little longer before pillaging them. We do have long commitments away from home, sometimes.”

Camellia moved her fingers, feeling Florian’s intertwined with hers. “I’ve never had that long a commitment. The longest I could ever manage was eight months before I needed a break.”

“Short studies are important too, and I personally prefer them myself. I was always amazed that Cernunnos could go and stay away for two, sometimes, three years.”

“He wasn’t tied down.”

If Cernunnos was the epitome of freedom, Camellia was somewhere in the middle. On the opposite side of the spectrum was her father. He lacked freedom, and he sought to take it from others. For what reason, Camellia didn’t know. Anxiety maybe.

He was not a perfect man, not a perfect father, but he was what Iruedim had left her.

On the bridge of the Ischyros, Pan waited beside Sotir. She couldn’t help shooting sidelong glances his way.

Out the windshield, floated Fauchard, ready to make the journey into the little shortcut that the Iruedians found.

Pan looked at Sotir and didn’t look away. “You’re sure this is the right thing to do?”

Sotir made a noise of affirmation.

Pan didn’t find it nearly enough. She tapped his arm to shake more words loose.

Sotir spoke soft into her ear. “I’m sure. We should take the shortcut. The likelihood of encountering Volanters is higher if we take the long way.”

Pan grabbed his arm to signal that he should keep his ear close to her mouth. “How likely is it – just in general?”

Sotir’s eyes leapt to Alban and then back to Pan. “It seems like five times out of ten, they catch us. Alban and I worked with the Iruedians to get what we think is the best path. All you need to do is practice your circles.”

Pan nodded. With Meladee’s advice and the book’s belated instructions, she’d practiced her old circles and found them almost natural.

Pan could kick herself. She’d waited so long to get her old fare under control, and a year ago, Brynn had told her how to do it. Brynn had told Pan to remember the feeling. Now, Pan knew the lesson again, and she wouldn’t forget it.

She’d even practiced beast summoning, which Meladee said should be pretty easy. Maybe easy for Meladee. Pan still couldn’t get the beast to pop out of the circle. It just waited inside a shadow, peering out with eyes of red.

“Are we all ready?” Alban asked of his bridge.

The crew reported in, one by one. Other departments on other decks, called in their readiness.

Alban looked at the arcanes. Sotir nodded.

Kat said, “I believe we’re all ready.”

Pan was not, but she didn’t say anything. She looked to Sotir. He stood straight and watched the windshield. He had seen, at last, some of their path ahead. Space presented numerous possibilities, all affected by whatever random timetable they set themselves on and how they collided with other objects. Sotir had a dozen realities to sort through, whenever he scried in his crystal ball, read the future in his cards, or simply stared into space. In this case, he predicted a 50-50 chance of something regrettable.

Pan had regrets. So many regrets. And, the end of their journey would be her time to face them.

For the Iruedians and the rest of the Scaldin, this trip was a return home. In Pan’s case, it was, and it wasn’t. She hadn’t been home in three years, and she hadn’t wanted to go. She still had mixed feelings about Scaldigir. So, when they talked about turning the ship in the direction of “home,” she thought, aren’t I already here?

Pan directed her attention to the windshield and found they had been underway for quite some time.

Eva ran to the main console in Engineering. Sten already waited there, tapping buttons and moving through screens.

“I think you made a mistake on the path.” Eva checked a screen and saw a large obstacle in their way.

The obstacle wasn’t a star or planet. It had considerably less mass, but it was in their way just the same.

“I’m sorry. I think that little detour we had to make is responsible. It ruined the timing, and Sotir said the timing was key.” Sten moved to a screen that showed time to impact. “Curator Rooks hasn’t ordered a stop yet. What is she waiting for?”

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At that moment, the hum of the engine wound down, leaving Engineering quieter than it had been in hours. Individual voices drifted across the space, voices that Eva hadn’t heard while the engine buzzed.

“It looks like she was waiting for you to get impatient,” Eva said.

She watched the displays. Someone began a scan of the object, probably under orders from the chief engineer. She and Sten were just guests. Their place was in Lurren, so they had little authority to give orders. Although, the engineers of Fauchard, chief included, had no issue taking orders from them.

“Oh dear,” Sten said.

Eva frowned. She had to agree. Their obstacle appeared to be a caravan of ships.

“Tell me, Irini, that those aren’t what I think they are.” Alban frowned at the windshield.

Irini counted fifteen ships, all joined by a mess of umbilicals. Some ships joined to two or three others. Some ships could only be reached from a single neighbor. Irini didn’t recognize the sleek shape of the ships, but she did recognize the runes painted on their sides. The soft shade of green, painted over each hull, also gave credence to her hunch.

She asked the question of her thread: Volanter?

A sparkle of gold tied itself around her index finger, traced a path of light across the bridge, and out the windshield to the gathering of ships.

“They’re Volanter,” Irini said in a small voice.

“Of course, they are.” Alban spread his hands. “Well, Sotir, should we resign ourselves to our fate?”

Sotir’s dazed eyes focused. He shook his head and set his eyes on Alban. “I don’t know. They aren’t hostile. They’re curious. I see their faces, hazy, looking our way.”

The news wasn’t bad, but Irini shivered.

A signal beeped from the com.

“Who is that?” Alban asked.

The com officer looked up. “Two signals. One from Fauchard, the other from the Volanter caravan.”

Irini felt Chara’s hand on her shoulder. She glanced back.

Chara gave Irini a reassuring smile. “We lived with them for years. It might not be such a dire situation.”

Irini wondered if Alban would answer either incoming signal. He was worried about the Iruedians betraying them after all.

Irini asked her thread: which of these ships is our friend?

Her old thread fizzled away. It redrew itself, and the gold string traveled across the bridge again, out the windshield, and to the ship known as Fauchard. That string glittered strong. Other weaker strings glittered on their ways to the fifteen Volanter vessels.

“My thread thinks that the Fauchard and the Iruedians are still friendly,” Irini called.

Alban, a bit surprised, stared at her. “Well, alright. Let’s talk to Rooks.”

“And…” Irini waited, until she again had his attention. “The Volanter might be friendly too.”

Alban’s surprised deepened to shock. “Let’s start with Rooks.”

Pan listened as Rooks and Alban argued back and forth. Rooks’ ship handled the discussion with the Volanter, and it turned out the Volanter recognized them as old allies and wanted to have a nice chat. Now, Rooks and Alban, unable to make any other decision, discussed who should be part of the delegation.

Pan, of course, landed solidly in that group.

“Pan is my defender,” Alban said.

“I’m choosing Meladee for mine,” Rooks’ voice came over the com.

Pan and Meladee would be the muscle, strange considering their chosen weapons were circles of symbols. Truly heavyweight weaponry.

“I’m not thrilled about it, but let’s send Aria.” Alban glanced Aria’s way.

Pan watched as Aria reacted with only mild surprise, but Gavain gripped his wife tight.

“Now hold on a second.” Gavain’s fingers curled over Aria’s shoulders.

“She can read auras, and she might be able to get information off the Volanters without them knowing,” Alban added.

Rooks sounded cheerful about the prospect, in a sarcastic kind of way. “That’s perfect. I doubt conversation will help us learn about their intentions. We need some way to see through their lies.”

“We need to be cautious,” Alban snapped.

Rooks shushed him over the com. “I know. Really, it is kind of perfect. You see, Camellia is telepathic. She could get the information from Aria, without alerting the Volanter.”

Alban’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a good setup. I’m fine sending just Aria and Pan. I don’t want to risk Sotir over there, but I have to admit, his fortune telling might be useful in the moment.”

Gavain tried to object again. He made a small sound but abandoned the attempt at a glare from Alban.

Rooks’ voice buzzed with static. “We could send them with earpieces. Then, Sotir can feed his information to the team, without showing his hand or being in danger.”

Pan looked at Sotir. He stared into her eyes and looked deep, but his mind seemed far away.

Alban turned to face Aria and Pan. “Alright, earpieces. That’s good. We’ll all be able to talk.”

“I would like to go,” a voice came over the com.

Pan struggled to remember who it belonged to.

“I’m an artificial lifeform, and from what we can tell of the Volanters, they have less understanding of someone like me.” It was Eva.

Whispered objections floated over the com before the Iruedians cut their feed. It sounded like someone didn’t want Eva to go, or the person wanted to go in Eva’s place.

Pan thought he or she should join the club. She thought Sotir might make a good president, or maybe, Gavain. Gavain had such a tight grip on Aria that Pan worried her friend might come away with permanent, finger-shaped dents in her shoulders.

“Send Kat,” Sotir suggested, a sudden poster child for calm.

“That’s fine with me,” Kat agreed.

“Alright, Kat too.” Alban pointed at Pan. “Though, she’s probably enough.”

“She’s untested,” Sotir said.

Pan cocked her head and gave a lighthearted nod. She was untested. Besides, she hadn’t seen Kat start a fire in a long time and never under a combat scenario. She would love to see Kat pass a test of her own.

Rooks’ voice came back over the com. “Alright. I’m sending Meladee, Camellia, Eva, and myself.”

Alban’s eyes widened. “Yourself?”

“Yes, myself. They’ve requested to meet leader to leader, and since I know you won’t step up, I’m taking the task upon myself.”

Alban made a face. “It’s your funeral. I’m sending Kat, Aria, and Pan. Together, I think they should make a sufficiently destructive force. They might be able to save you…but if you can talk our way out of this, that would be best.”

“That’s Camellia’s specialty,” Rooks promised. “And, let’s keep in mind that they might be able to help us return home faster. If they’re friendly enough to meet, they might be friendly enough to help us.”

Pan hoped talking would be all they did, but she ran through her favorite circles, committing them to a place of quick recall.

They rode over in silence, but for Camellia the ride felt anything but silent. Rooks ordered Camellia and Aria to practice telepathic communication, though the practice was more for Aria and Rooks, to prevent any feelings of shock.

Camellia took the thoughts from Aria’s mind and sent them on to Rooks.

Camellia demonstrated all the different ways she could get information from Aria. She started with a gentle knock. Aria sent her images of flowers. Camellia duplicated the images and relayed them to Rooks.

Then, Camellia barged in to Aria’s mind, simulating what would happen if the Volanter discussions took a turn for the worse. She glimpsed a fight between lovers, quickly replaced by a garden. Camellia backed off. She sent only the garden to Rooks.

Finally, Camellia gathered Aria’s thoughts like stray whispers. She caught dark, little musings about aura reading and family life. The overall message called in to question Aria’s view of her own usefulness. Camellia paused. She had nothing to send to Rooks.

“Is that all?” Rooks asked.

“Uh, yes,” Camellia said. “I’ve shown you gentle and forceful. That should cover it.”

“I think we’re ready.” Rooks sat back and smiled. “I’m hoping none of this will be necessary, but you Scaldin seem to view the Volanter as monsters. Your commander is too scared to even meet with them.”

Pan, Aria, and Kat exchanged a look. Camellia’s eyes moved from one to the others. No answers were forthcoming.

“What can we expect from them?” Camellia prodded.

“They’re different from us,” Pan said. “Very.”

Camellia frowned.

Rooks leaned forward. “Now, would be the time for details.”

Pan glanced at Aria. Then, she began, “They don’t have feet – just tentacles. And, they walk on them. They don’t have hair. Again, more tentacles.” Pan gestured around her head. Then, she made a swift motion over her face. “They have stiff faces and sharp fingers. They’re black and white, striped in some places, like a snake.”

Camellia felt herself pale, if it were even possible.

Kat, the eldest of the group, sat with her arms crossed. “Apparently, many years ago, our people found those traits attractive enough.” Kat shrugged. “The Volanters – visitors as we used to call them – aren’t the most pleasant of people. There’s a lingering awe for their kind on Scaldigir. Many of us participated in marriages with them and had families.”

“We love everything they gave us,” Pan said. “Them. Not so much.”

Camellia could see that. Apparently, the tree symbol, the runes, the circles, all belonged to the Volanter. Even the Iruedians cherished Volanter contributions to magic, without which none of their magic would exist.

“I think we’ve all received something from the Volanter,” Camellia agreed. “I hope that they’ll prove to be reasonable, but now that we know what they look like…”

Eva finished the concern, “They remind you of our old friends: Ah’nee’thit and Ul’thetos?”

“Considering the tentacles…yes.” Camellia had already given Pan, Aria, and Kat a run-down of the creatures that infested Iruedim, not during their current flight, but earlier in bits and pieces. Any mention of tentacles always sent waves of fear across their faces. Now, Camellia knew why.

“You better not get too sympathetic to these guys,” Meladee warned. “I know how tentacles aren’t exactly a turnoff for you.”

Camellia sighed and put her head in her hands. “I do not appreciate tentacles any more than the average limb, Meladee. Forgive me for having a little sympathy for the plight of non-humanoid individuals.”

“Just don’t trust them,” Meladee added.

“Please,” Eva agreed.

“Does it look like I’m trusting them?” Camellia put her hand to her breast.

“We have to trust them a little,” Rooks said to the group. “They outnumber us by 13 vessels. I don’t need to tell you that if we were to fight, we probably couldn’t win. Camellia, we need your compassion and understanding of non-humanoids species here.”

Camellia nodded.

Kat, Pan, and Aria all watched her. Kat looked concerned. She was the oldest woman among them, and probably wisest. Aria looked indifferent as if it didn’t matter how Camellia handled her own feelings in regards to the Volanter. Pan had a fire in her eyes, and it was a complicated thing to decipher. It spoke of anger and inspiration.