Urusei Yatsura Fan Fiction ❯ Twenty Years Later ❯ The Beginning of the Circle ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Pashansho, the planet Vos. Earth date: late June 2001 . . .

"Sandra . . . "

The young man sat seiza before the memorial inside the public mausoleum located in the heart of this mid-sized city in the mountains of Vos' northern continent. Before him hovered a holographic picture of his late fiancée, she depicted in a dark-blue uniform crossed with a red infantryman's sash and decorated with various markings. The man was dressed in a similar uniform -- though a grey Scottish Highland kilt, cris-crossed with gold and red stripes, in this case, had replaced the red-trimmed blue pants normally worn. His eyes were closed, his breathing controlled, though he could not . . . did not . . . control his tears.

Why did it end THIS way?

Standing at the mausoleum's altar, the local priest intoned the ritual burial prayers, doing his best to ensure the deceased would have an easy journey through Purgatory into Heaven and her eternal reward. Hearing the words, the bereaved could only smile. It was a good thing Vosians didn't believe in something akin to the Christian concept of Hell. Then again, save for the intimacy of their relationship -- which would have had religious conservatives back home in Canada spitting damnation as if they were caught in epileptic seizures -- he couldn't conceive of anything which would delay her receiving her heavenly reward.

Why did it end at all?

"Son?"

He turned as he sensed his teacher -- and would-be great-grandfather -- standing behind him. He moved aside to allow Kyoosur a chance to kneel before his great-granddaughter's memorial. The kari'fu grandmaster, last surviving teacher of the Pashansho School, was a spry fellow four centuries old. Almost bald, he sported hair over his ears, a moustache and long goatee. He was dressed in a green tunic and trousers, a black cummerbund around his waist. Unlike their Dali'lama rivals, Pashansho Silent Ones never wore kill-belts. "No need to advertise," Kyoosur had told his great-granddaughter and her then-boyfriend once.

"You saw the autopsy report?" the younger man asked.

"I did," Kyoosur confirmed with a nod. "Neither of the unborn were developed enough to begin forging a conscience, James."

"Still . . . "

Why did it end before THEY could be born?

"I know, my son," Kyoosur sympathetically noted as he gazed on the younger man. "Abortion debates seem common across the whole local cluster, even here throughout the Confederation. But when one is actually confronted with the coming of the next generation, the matter becomes mute, eh?"

"Yeah." He bit his lip. "Great-grandfather . . . "

"What is it, lad?"

"I can feel it . . . wanting to come out."

Kyoosur's eyebrow arched. "Yes, I have sensed that beast within you as soon as the bonds with my great-granddaughter were shattered. To believe . . . you would love Koinba so much that when you lost her, grief . . . would not be the only emotion you'd feel."

Why is this happening to me?

"I don't understand," the younger man hissed. "I mean . . . with what happened . . . I know this was a car accident . . . just a simple CAR ACCIDENT of all things . . . but I feel so . . . so . . . "

"Angry? Wounded? Wanting to lash out at the cruel galaxy that took Koinba away?"

"Yes!"

Kyoosur reached up to squeeze the younger man's shoulder. "You must fall back on your emotional training," he reminded him. "Remember: a soul of ice, a mind of ice, a heart of ice. Give the thing within you the chance to emerge to bleed off the emotional pressure . . . but keep it under control at ALL times."

"I'm afraid, Great-grandfather . . . "

Why must I suffer THIS way?

"Good. You acknowledge the problem with your fear. I've made arrangements. Incidents of Mikadoite and neo-Mikadoite activities have begun to pick up over the last couple years. It's still undefined and disorganized . . . but the An'san-Mikado believe it'll coalesce into a solid alliance before long. They want that to be nipped in the bud before that poisonous flower blooms."

The younger man blinked before he exhaled, "All right. I'll do it."

"So quick to decide, lad?"

"I've no choice now, Great-grandfather."

"Jamie?"

The younger man started, and then he turned to see a tall, red-haired woman -- she draped in a grey cape, her hair dotted with glistening crystals -- standing nearby. Beside her was a Vosian woman with shoulder-cut raven-hair, she dressed and festooned with crystals in the same fashion as her life-mate. "Nicole?! Mujanba?!" he gasped on recognizing his cousin and cousin-in-law. "When did you . . . ?"

"We came as soon as we heard," Mujanba McTavish declared as they walked over to embrace him. "Are you all right, Jamie?" Unlike Kyoosur, the native of Vos Colony Nine wasn't afraid to address the younger man by the nickname, which -- in Vosian -- meant "he who devoured your entrails and thoroughly enjoyed them."

He shuddered. "No . . . "

Why must it be ME?

"Dinnae fret," Nicole McTavish, future matriarch of the Clan McTavish of Killiecrankie, soothed. "I made damn sure Alex'll nae get in the way this time. You'll be clear of the fool while you're busy working for Gomasur's brigade. But right now, you've got a lot of pain and anger tae wash outta your system."

"Is that why you took her away?" he asked, hoping the accusation in his voice didn't register.

"Aye," Nicole replied, the elder woman clearly undisturbed by Jamie's words. "I willnae apologize for it either. I . . . felt something was about to happen . . . and if ye reacted badly, she would feel it worse. Dinnae fret; I think it's time she had the chance to experience the wide world on her own, no?"

"That's wonderful . . . "

Why must I walk the path alone?

"It's time," Kyoosur warned.

The others nodded solemnly. "I'm ready," James Alexander McTavish then declared as he gazed once more on his beloved's portrait.

Soul of ice . . .

Soul of ice . . .

Soul of . . .

Oh, Sandra!

**** **** ****
Urusei Yatsura Twenty Years Later
The Beginning of the Circle
by Fred Herriot and Mike Smith
**** **** ****
C&C by Joerg Janshen-Jaeger
**** **** ****
Second of a series of fan fiction stories based on Urusei Yatsura, created by Takahashi Rumiko.
**** **** ****

Vos Colony 100. Earth-time: mid-August 2001 . . .

Darkness cloaked the colony's capital city as shadowy figures darted through an open window at the main branch of the colony's only financial institution, the Mansur Development Bank. A computer clicked on as one of the people sat at the terminal to carry out his work. Information flashed on the screen before him, and then the operator turned to face his companions, he nodding.

"Do it."

Hands flew over the keyboard. In seconds, millions of credits were siphoned out from one account and dispatched to several others in banks on the Homeworld. As soon as the transaction was done, the operator slipped a special disk into one of the computer's floppy drives, and then he typed a command. "There," he then declared with a smile. "No record of this exists anywhere in the Finance Ministry."

"Let's go!" the leader ordered.

The computer was shut off, and then the shadows slipped out of the bank.

A minute later, the building exploded!

* * *

The next morning . . .

"How bad was it?"

"Bad, Madame Governor," the Finance Minister reported with a shake of his head as he gazed at the reports that had awaited him on his desk that morning. "The bank itself was destroyed, all records lost. Estimated loss of revenue is in the 500,000,000 credit range if people can't produce their personal records."

Chonba shuddered as she gazed out the windows of her office at the city surrounding the governor's palace. Colony 100's capital was a reflection of the state of affairs her 7,000,000 citizens currently lived in: a flux of unending change. Ramshackle homes -- the first buildings to be erected here a century before -- were divided by the skeletons of skyscrapers and the many other initial signs of mass urban modernization. Many streets were still paved with mud instead of asphalt. There was no decent air-tram system or subway. Water and sewage treatment were a shambles, new plants were still months away from completion.

"Cause of the explosion," she then asked. "Or need I guess?"

The Finance Minister ruefully smiled. "Gas main explosion. Just like the other bank bombings."

"Public reaction?"

"Bad. People are demanding to know what's going on. They're screaming for the Energy Minister's head, not to mention . . . "

"Mine," Chonba finished.

"Yes, ma'am."

An intercom whistled. "Madame Governor, CEO Mansur is on Line Two," a secretary hailed.

"On holovision," Chonba ordered. "Good morning, Mansur. I trust you heard the news?"

The image of a handsome, slender man appeared beside the governor's desk, the pleasant smile presently curving his lips not going as far as his eyes. "Indeed I have, Governor Chonba. Please, don't feel sorry about it." He made a dismissive wave with his hand. "Accidents happen."

"They're happening to your banks with alarming frequency, Mansur," Chonba noted. "Given today's tally, your institute has potentially lost over 8,000,000,000 credits in the last year alone. Your creditors back in Lecashuto must be fuming."

"They are worried, but not too much," Mansur assured her with yet another dismissive wave of his hand. "They know that, when it comes to the development of any colony planet in the Confederation, sacrifices have to be made. They are prepared to help compensate whatever they may have lost. Fortunately, they do have records of what they sent out back on the Homeworld. There is no worry."

"I see. How about normal clients?"

"We trust them. After all, the basic rule of all businesses is 'the customer is always right.'"

A chuckle. "You've lost a lot. I can't begin to believe how much you've endured because of this."

"As I said, it's the price of doing business in a developing colony, Madame Governor." Mansur then gave her a theatrical bow. "In the meantime, I'll have my people investigate this. No need to force Colonial Security to worry. I bid you both a good day."

The image faded as the link was cut. Chonba and her finance chief exchanged knowing looks. "Lying through his teeth as usual," the latter mused with a click of his tongue. "What an actor he could've been."

"I doubt people would've stood the stench were he on stage," Chonba warned with a derisive snort, and then she pressed an intercom switch. "Where's the Chief of Colonial Security, Kiasur?"

"She's here now, Madame Governor."

"Send her in."

The door then opened to reveal a stocky woman in the dark blue uniform of Confederation Colonial Security, the Vosian version of Canada's historic North-West Mounted Police. "Well?" Chonba wondered.

"We can't tell if it was deliberate," she spoke up immediately with a defeated sigh. "Near as my chief detective could conclude from the wreckage, it was a fractured gas main near an exposed live wire."

"Just like the other times." Chonba sat in her chair. "If we don't get a handle on this soon, Parliament'll be all over me. Do we have ANYTHING that could point to whoever caused this?"

"Nothing," the security chief declared. "The only this we have is coincidence. The bank bombings here, on Colony 102 and Colony 106 began shortly before neo-Mikadoite activity picked up in the sector. But -- we -- have -- no -- evidence," she snarled as she bit off the last sentence a word at a time.

Silence fell. "Then it's time for an outside agent to be brought in to look around," Chonba declared. "Chief, was that report from last week true? About Hunba's son and his wife being alive and well?"

The security chief's eyes widened. "Nassur?!"

These days, people throughout the Confederation of Vos spoke that name with a touch of awe, almost to the point of religious veneration. Though Nassur hadn't been the man who killed the Mikado at the end, that he had been the one who had sparked the revolution that toppled the dictator was seen as more important. "Yes, we just confirmed it. He and his wife are now on Earth recovering from their years on Elle. Supposedly, they're asking the Terrans to help them construct a new starship."

Chonba hummed. "We can't ask them to come here then; they had a daughter before that lunatic in Baran captured them." She then gazed at the security chief. "Wait! I heard that they had a group of trainees working under them around the time the Civil War ended . . . "

"That's right," the Finance Minister spoke up, nodding. "Fifty hybrids from the Ipraedies' Project: Superwarrior; there was a real big stink about it when the Defence Force went after Schwartz."

"Then call Home Base," Chonba ordered. "Ask if one of them could come here to help us."

"Yes, Madame Governor," the security chief replied with a salute before she marched out of the office.

* * *

Later . . .

"Contacting Nassur's brats?" Mansur mused as he poured himself a drink. "They can't be serious!"

"From what our agent informed me, they are," Diasur replied with a smile, a bloodless gash which expressed his feelings perfectly. Unlike his employer, he didn't believe in masking his feelings to anyone.

"Very well. Find out who it is, then get me a dossier on him or her. I'll decide what to do then."

"As you wish," Diasur responded with a bow before he turned to walk out.

* * *

A fortnight later . . .

"Argh! By the Lady Pizalna's Fleece Laces, give me another one there, honoured friend!" the shaggy Yehisrite trader exclaimed as he held up his tankard. "It's been a very long journey from Cademus."

"New in town?" the bartender mused as he took the tankard and filled it with Varakos blood ale.

"Aye!" the younger man -- he seemed in his mid-twenties, just starting out as a small cargo ship owner -- replied with a gruff nod. Like all Yehisrite independent traders, he was dressed in a chainmail bodysuit, a utility jumpsuit slung over him. A lone duelling knife was strapped to one leg. The only colour to mark a birth principality was a strawberry-red cummerbund around his waist, the grey crescent moon and gold dragon of Dysos on the buckle. "I'm wondering if the people I'm supposed to meet are gonna show up. Feh, cowards!"

"They should be here soon." The bartender handed the tankard back. "What's your name?"

The younger man smiled. "Aleko of Dysos, at your service."

"Then you must be the one we're looking for," a strange voice then hailed from the trader's right.

Aleko turned to see a rough-hewn native sitting beside him. "And what makes you think that, friend?"

An eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Well, the Dragon Head sent me to look for you," the other replied with a shrug. "He told me that if there was a more honest fellow than Aleko of Dysos, he can't be found."

The Yehisrite grinned. "Get this man a drink!" he called out. "It seems I've made my first friend!"

The bartender nodded. "Right away, sir."

* * *

That's got to be the supplier, Hazel! Cademus IS the standard trans-shipping point for weapons trading in the Royal Kingdoms, Althea psi-linked with her companion as she sipped her spring water. One of the things that had made Vos Colony 100 popular to potential new settlers was the purity of the spring water; bottling and shipping it was one of the more lucrative businesses here.

Yeah, IF our ultimate targets want to get their hands on some choice gear, they'd have to get a contact on Cademus or one of the other major 'gun capitals,' Hazel replied with a frown. She and her fellow hunter were currently dressed in casual civilians with some psychedelic colouring in their tunics in lieu of their normal form-fitting jumpsuits and kill belts. To the casual onlooker, they seemed Tookonokooen by birth, instead of the mix of Vosian, Yehisrite, and Ipraedies they actually were. Pity . . .

What do you mean?
Althea wondered as she played with a strand of her currently auburn hair. Blonde hair -- Althea's natural colour -- was, save for hybrids born of either Vosian or Yehisrite parents, totally unknown on Tookonokooen. A special drug Naosu had supplied to her had been enough to darken the golden locks to give her a more "acceptable" look. One couldn't be TOO careful at this job. Hey, Hazel! You okay? she then asked on noting the lost look on her best friend's face. Don't zone out, huh!

Hazel blinked, her blue eyes twinkling. Oh, it's nothing.

Bullshit, Kuriinba!
Althea retorted as she addressed her by her real name. What's with you?

A sigh. Just remembering something . . . whoops! She then tensed. They're leaving.

Althea closed her eyes as she locked on the man who befriended Aleko. Got the mark. Let's go.

Both stood to leave.

* * *

The spaceport, a hour later . . .

"Nice ship," the native said as he gazed on Aleko's pride and joy, the I.S.S. An-qil Ufpif. A standard one-man trader, the ship was fitted with the usual round of defensive weapons; it was seen as uncivilized on Yehisril to pilot an unarmed ship. "What've you got for us?"

"C'mon aboard," the trader invited his new friend up the gangplank. They then stepped left to enter one of the holds. "Good thing I ran into you right away. Given what I've got, I didn't want to risk being her too long before Colonial Customs got curious as to what else I have aboard. Now, just a second . . . "

He tapped a wall control. The panels vanished in the blink of an eye, revealing storage chambers. The native -- Aleko knew his name was Karosur; he was one of Diasur's chief lieutenants -- blinked, and then his jaw hit the deck on seeing what Aleko wanted to show him. "Kamahanite Range Hunters?!" he gasped, drool appearing at the corner of his mouth on seeing the deadly assault rifles, third only to Sagussa's Urban Assault Cannon models and Yehisril's Qu'f-Piaqu'r in overall battlefield performance.

"The latest models just out of their factories," Aleko proudly declared. Got the nibble. Time to reel them in. "I can let them all go for fifty credits per weapon. Intrigued?"

"Fifty . . . " Karosur squeaked in stunned disbelief as he found himself gaping at his host, and then he icily smiled. "That, my friend, is a steal!"

Aleko held up a finger. "Well, given that I got them VERY cheap myself, I have a very funny feeling they might've been 'hot' when I got them, friend. You can understand why I'd want them away from me."

A nod. "No problem at all. Later tonight?"

"I'll be right here."

* * *

Nice ship, Althea mused to herself before tapping a secure communications badge fitted inside her tunic. "Is it legit?" she whispered.

"Yes, all registry papers check out," Daros responded from the orbiting I.S.S. Perseverance, the light frigate currently in cloaked orbit over Colony 100. "Did a background check on Aleko, too. He's pretty clean, though some investigative authorities in different parts of the Confederation suspect him of weapons smuggling. No proof enough to haul him in for questioning, though."

"Understood," she replied before cutting the link, and then she concentrated. Hazel?

No sign of anyone else
, Hazel replied from her position ten metres to Althea's right. Wait . . .

The boarding ramp lowered. Aleko and Karosur descended, took a moment to shake hands, and then the latter headed off. Aleko watched him go, and then he headed back up the ramp to his ship. Okay, something's about to happen, Hazel mused. Let's get out of here, Althea, then get back to the ship. Tell Daros to lock all sensors on this hangar bay. If people're coming, I want to be the first to know.

Althea nodded. Understood.

* * *

A sensor alarm flashed on the An-qil Ufpif's pilotage as Aleko stepped into the ship's pilotage, sitting in the lone chair there. "What the . . . ?" he wondered, his voice no longer flecked with the rough-hewn Dysos accent he spent a day sleep-learning -- then another worshipping at the altar of the porcelain goddess -- so he could do the mission. Damn, he HATED chemical-language learning techniques! Still, he wouldn't submit to a mind-meld, even with the Pathfinder Troop Six liaison officer to the An'san-Mikado. No sense exposing anyone to the emotions locked deep inside him; he wouldn't wish THAT on his worst enemy . . .

Well, except that pervert Alex . . .

Aleko clicked his tongue as he tapped controls. His eyebrow then arched as a sensor readout flashed before his green eyes. "Two of the Home Base hunters?" he trilled before turning to tap controls to do an identification scan. "Okay, Kuriinba of Kyotos, A.K.A. Hazel . . . and Katsunba of Kyotos, A.K.A. Althea. Oh, Mansur rated the elite, eh? Not bad, Governor . . . "

With that, he sat back in his chair. Karosur would be back in three hours with friends and payment.

Time to prepare.

* * *

In orbit . . .

"Everything about this guy checks out, Hazel," Hyakka stated with a shake of his head.

Everyone was currently relaxing on the Perseverance's bridge. "Born in Karchos, Dysos, eighteen years ago," Home Base's computer technician/operator continued his report. "Did the Test of Life on Cademus when he was ten; passed that with flying colours. Parents are dead due to bandit raids on his hometown. He has no siblings or any intimate relations. He's been trading on his own for the past two years, though reports of him smuggling weapons have only started appearing two months ago."

Hazel hummed. "Really?" There were six people assigned to this mission: herself, Althea, Daros -- they were the field agents -- plus Hyakka (to maintain the link with Home Base's computer), Naosu (medical support) and Kyonba (Home Base's chief engineer, to help run the ship). Given that their target was a very prominent businessman, their presence on Colony 100 had to be kept as secret as possible. The only people dirtside who knew of Home Base's involvement in Chonba's investigation on Mansur was the governor herself and her senior staff. "What about the ship, Hyakka?" Hazel then asked. "How did that check out?"

"Clean," he replied. "Aleko ordered it second-hand from the Ronsho Yards in Varakos five months ago. Standard Type 20 one-man cargo/long-range transport with the usual weapons package. From what I can scan of her, the ship's as we expected. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Daros' brow creased as a concerned look crossed his face. "The name's funny, though."

Althea gazed at her fiancé. "What do you mean, Da-chan?"

"Well, it translates Queen An's Revenge. I checked it up myself, Ka-chan. There's no record of an Anna, Anra, or Anba who was a queen or empress ANYWHERE in Yehisrite history."

Kyonba blinked. "Wait! I've heard that name before, but . . . " Her voice trailed off as her brow furrowed, she taking a moment to consider the matter, and then she turned to Hyakka. "Why don't you have the Computer run the name through our Encyclopaedia Intergalactica database? Maybe she can find something."

"All right."

Hyakka turned to his board, his fingers flying over the keys. "Sure is a handsome fellow," Naosu mused as he gazed at Aleko's picture taken from the records.

"Yeah, he is that . . . but he's nowhere close to Da-chan!" Althea gushed as she hugged Daros' arm.

"Will you two relax?!" Hazel chided them. "Something's bothering you, Naosu. What is it?"

"Well . . . " The doctor sat back in his chair, stroking his clean-shaven chin as he considered what to say. Despite him not being field staff, everyone on Home Base valued Naosu's insights. A real doctor, Naosu said, was a detective first and foremost. "You know, listening to all of you and what you've said, this guy seems almost TOO perfect to fit the profile of a weapons smuggler supplying the neo-Mikadoites."

"'TOO perfect?!'" Kyonba wondered.

Naosu nodded. "No real connections to anyone to confirm or deny anything, he's got a ship and there've been reports on him from other colonies . . . " A finger rose up to emphasize the point. "Reports, I should remind you all, that neo-Mikadoite informants could ALSO get their hands on. To our opponents, he'd be the right sort to contact to get their hands on arms . . . yet . . . "

"Whoa, what're you saying? This guy's working for someone to act as bait for Mansur?!" Daros asked.

"It looks like that to me, Daros."

"If he is, who's he really working for?" Kyonba wondered. "Gegranko? That'd be my first suspect."

Hazel empathically shook her head; she was Home Base's expert on THAT particular man. "Not Gegranko. He hates anything that even smells of a Mikado connection. The Mikado tried to shut down some of his operations before the Civil War . . . and that was something Gegranko never forgave nor forgot . . . "

"That would make all the more sense," Althea objected. "If Gegranko wants all remnants of the Mikado gone, what better way than to tap into the arms market, then sink them before they could do any damage?"

"That wouldn't last for long. If I know Gegranko, he wouldn't see any long-range profit in doing this," Hazel countered. "No, it's not him. But if this Aleko is a plant . . . "

"Wait a sec'! Got something!" Hyakka announced.

"What is it, Hyakka?" Daros asked.

"Just picked up a small historical reference on an Earth wet-ship named Queen Anne's Revenge." Hyakka pointed to his viewscreen. "It dates back from the early part of their Eighteenth Century. More legend than fact; it's backed up by an account written by a man named Daniel Dafoe. Supposedly, this ship was the headquarters ship of a English pirate named Edward Teach, also known as . . . "

"Blackbeard!" Kyonba gasped. Luckily for the hunters, one of their resident engineer's many hobbies was studying obscure historical factoids. The short history of Earth's so-called "Golden Age of Piracy" had been one of the things that had wrapped her attention whenever she wasn't busy on missions or repairing the Perseverance. "That's where I remembered the name! Blackbeard died on his ship when the British Royal Navy caught up to him . . . oh, this was around 1718, I think . . . "

"How in Lecasur's name would someone from Yehisril know something as obscure as that?" Althea asked.

A sharp intake of breath. Eyes locked on Hazel. She was quivering. "What is it?" Naosu asked.

"Lecasur's Soul . . . it's HIM!" Hazel whispered as she stood, turning to head back to her cabin.

The others watched her go. "What's with her?" Daros asked.

"Hazel!" Althea called out as she raced back after her friend.

* * *

A fast-paced opera was playing over the speakers in the master bedroom of the An-qil Ufpif as the trader, nude, sat seiza before his personal shrine. Sandra Annette Phillips' picture sat in the shrine, a traditional Japanese butsudan, complete with an ihai to his departed fiancée sitting under the picture. Budou Chiezou, chief priest of the Clan Moroboshi, had blessed the ihai sometime after Sandra's death, and then it had been passed on to him by one of the Gaelic druids working for Nicole, Connor Macgillvary. The inscriptions were in Japanese and Vosian, languages as known to Jamie McTavish as English and Scots Gaelic.

So many reflections . . .

So many influences . . .

Which way to go?

An intercom signal buzzed. "Jamie?" the ship's computer, which spoke with Sandra's voice, hailed. "Colonel Gomasur is calling."

Aleko/Jamie sighed. "Pipe it through."

"Jamie?!"

He tensed himself. "Yes, sir?"

"How's the mission?"

"So far, so good," Jamie replied. "A representative from Mansur's number two man took the nibble and, barring any problems, it'll go down late tonight. If I can sweep it all up in one fight, it'll have all the neo-Mikadoites in the sector running scared. We can leave it to the squibs in the DIA . . . " -- by this, Jamie meant the Vosian Defence Intelligence Agency -- "To deal with Mansur."

"Good. I'll pass it onto the Director."

Jamie then perked. "Oh, did you know some of Nassur's crew is here?"

Silence. "What?!" Gomasur then demanded.

"I spotted two of Nassur's students here: Hazel and Althea. The way I figure it now, the only person who'd hire them here is the governor herself. Any confirmation?"

"I'll get it as soon as I can, Jamie," the commander of the An'san-Mikado replied. "We just got news that Nassur and his wife were found on Elle a week ago by the Moroboshis, Princess Shinobu and friends."

"Okay, fair enough," Jamie replied. "I'll call back when I'm done. Iceman out."

"Link cut," the ship's computer announced.

"Thank you," Jamie called back with a nod before he moved to relax himself, closing his eyes.

Soul of ice . . .

Soul of ice . . .

Soul of ice . . .

* * *

"Jamie McTavish?!"

"It's him, Althea!" Hazel said before biting her lip. "I'm sure of it this time! The same colony he mentioned all those years ago, roughly the time he indicated it'd happen . . . except for the skin, Aleko LOOKS like him! And we have a file on Jamie at Home Base!"

Althea shook her head. For the last year, Hazel had become agitated, as if she had been expecting something important to happen to her. It had something to do with an incident in Tomobiki back in 1984, just before the Planet of Shadows mission and the end of the Civil War. Nassur, Benten and Hazel never mentioned any details to their co-workers, but from what Althea had come to ascertain over the years, someone from the Earth year 2002 had come back in time to that moment in 1984, chasing someone who wanted to kill Hazel . . .

And he had saved Hazel's life.

His name was James Alexander -- "Jamie" -- McTavish of Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada.

Althea strongly suspected Hazel had held quite the crush on Jamie since that meeting long ago. He had haunted Hazel's dreams for years, throughout all the ups and downs in the hunter's work on Home Base as temporary leader of Nassur's group. Althea didn't blame her friend for feeling this way when it came to the handsome young Canadian. From what pictures Althea had seen of Jamie McTavish, the guy was what most Terran women called "beefcake;" "sweet recognition bait" was the usual Vosian term for someone THAT gorgeous.

Two years ago, information about Jamie, then a freshman high school student at Robert Land Academy, Canada's only private boy's school built on a military theme, percolated to Home Base. Sensing good hunter material in the lad from Nova Scotia, the hybrids extended an invitation for Jamie to attend their private training school. To better sweeten the offer, Jamie did the obligatory aptitude test before he was accepted. To the hybrids' sheer delight (especially Hazel's), Jamie passed with the highest grade possible!

Then, to the hybrids' surprise, he turned their invitation down!

That had caused some consternation among the hybrids; despite the troubles they had endured due to their part-Ipraedies ancestry among many sectors of galactic society, the hunters of Home Base had spent years building on the foundation Nassur left them, creating a training school where would-be bounty hunters and other law enforcement officials fought vigorously to attend. For them to confront a rejection like this had been quite disconcerting to those involved; according to Jamie McTavish's explanation at the time, he wanted to finish high school before deciding on a future career. While the others running the school testing committee -- Althea, Daros, and Darsei -- decided to close the file and leave him be, Hazel overrode them. She persuaded them to wait until Jamie was closer to graduating before they extend the offer again.

They had done so that summer.

Jamie turned them down again. This time, it was for compassionate reasons. According to his school headmaster, Colonel G. Scott Bowman, Jamie's fiancée, Sandra Phillips, had died in a tragic auto accident just after summer vacation began and Jamie needed time to mourn. That response had hurt Hazel as badly as it no doubt hurt Jamie; the hybrids' leader had remained locked in her apartment for two days weeping. Her reaction piqued Althea's interest enough to do some of her own digging around with Hyakka's help . . .

Before long, they discovered the secret file Nassur made concerning what happened in January of 1984.

"So it's him," Althea mused. "Hazel, he came back from NEXT year, remember?! He won't know you!"

Hazel sighed. "I know. But . . . this goes WAY beyond the normal rules when it comes to time-travel problems, Althea. I OWE HIM MY LIFE!" she screamed out to nowhere in particular before she gazed at her friend. "You should've seen him go at those people, Althea! Sensei had NOTHING on Jamie! He wiped them out without breaking a sweat!" Another sigh. "For seventeen years, I've waited, Althea . . . "

"And had loads of wet dreams about it," Althea added.

"Pervert!" Hazel retorted before she smiled, gazing out the window. "I can't reveal what I know, not without risking the time-stream's integrity . . . but deep in my heart, I want to scream it out to the whole galaxy, Althea! It's him! This is the man who I will owe my life to, TWICE! I . . . I . . . " She closed her eyes. "I love him . . . and at this time, I hardly know him at all."

"Well, finding out more's gonna be a bitch," Althea warned. "I sent a discrete inquiry to Robert Land Academy about Sandra Phillips just after she died." A shrug. "Made it look like we didn't know what had happened to her, of course." A sigh. "The file was sealed tighter than a safe, Hazel, even to Hyakka. I . . . " A pause before she breathed out, "I couldn't find a thing about her."

"It's all right," Hazel acknowledged. "Thanks."

"Hey, anything for you. 'Sides, if you did recognize him . . . "

"No, it won't happen."

"You can't be sure . . . "

"It won't, Althea. Don't forget, I was there when Sensei and Benten wrote that report. They didn't record the fact that the person who came back in time to get Jamie back home to 2002 was his wife."

Althea gaped. "His WIFE?!"

"Yeah. I . . . damn, seventeen years and so many changes in our lives can really play havoc with your memories, you know that?!" Hazel then clicked her tongue. "I forgot her name since I only saw her so briefly. She was related to someone Sempai knew, though . . . "

Althea frowned. "Too bad. I mean, if he's THIS good, then let's get him to work for us!"

"We'll see."

The intercom whistled. "Hazel, it's Daros!"

"What is it?!" Hazel asked.

"We've picked up a dozen or so people now in the hangar with Aleko's ship. Looks like it's starting."

"Understood! Let's go!"

* * *

Inside the hangar, Aleko waited by his ship, a cool look etched on his face. He knew battle was coming. He could feel it. It was a stirring from within . . . IT was stirring within him, hungering for release. Not yet, he thought. I can't release you yet . . .

He then heard the droning sound of one of the doors to the hangar slowly opening, followed by footsteps of several people on the concrete floor. From the sounds of their boots on the pavement, it was easy to guess who they were: members of Colonial Security. About a dozen of them from the sounds of it. Seems Karosur managed to get some friends together to come for his toys, Aleko mused.

Turning around, he barely hid his smile on noting how well he had guessed the situation. Karosur was leading a pack of a dozen low-ranked operatives if Aleko knew CCS insignia correctly. Obviously, they were there as part of Karosur's little clique. "Aleko!" Karosur hailed with a smile as he greeted the trader. "I'm glad you're still here!" A handshake later, he continued, "My superiors have given their approval on what you're offering to us. It's still fifty credits each for the Range Hunters, isn't it?"

"Of course," Aleko replied, slipping back into character. "It's dishonourable to haggle!"

Both men laughed. Aleko then noticed someone moving behind a nearby window. Two someones to be precise, both dark-skinned girls dressed in what looked like Tookonokooen farmer's coveralls and T-shirts. A quick glance towards his visitors then told the trader that neither Karosur nor any of his people had noticed. Obviously, their tracking abilities weren't very strong.

Glance back. One of the girls had long, slightly curly black hair. From the way her outfit was bunched upstairs, she was probably well endowed in terms of breast size. The other had long auburn-hair -- unusual but not a totally unknown hair colour for a Tookonokooen -- and she possessed a more daintier body-build than her partner. Both were cute, even though they were drawing weapons. Can't be Tookonokooen, the trader thought to himself as he remembered the odd run-in he had experienced with members of this unusual humanoid species, people who reminded Jamie McTavish of natives of the West Indies before he went into space. They wouldn't act so covert. Hell, a Tookonokooen with a weapon is almost an oxymoron; they'd be afraid it would go off! Only one conclusion could be made. Must be from Nassur's crew.

Karosur then produced a huge wad of 100 credit notes from one of his uniform pockets to hand to Aleko. "We'll all of take them!"

"A pleasure doing business with you," Aleko replied as he took the money and began to count it.

Karosur then motioned to four of the larger, stronger-looking members of his group. "Bring the large green box in the hold."

Minutes later, the security personnel disembarked, they carrying the box holding the Range Hunters. Once clear of the ship, they placed it in front of Karosur. With a churlish grin, he opened the box to pull out one of the weapons to show off to the rest. "Look at this!" he crowed with a pride-filled smile, as if he got the present he always wanted for Christmas. "A Range Hunter! Stronger than anything in the Defence Force! With these, no one will ignore us again!" He turned to Aleko. "And we have this man to thank!"

He nodded to his companions. Without hesitation, they pulled out weapons of their own, they shifting around to surround Aleko before the Yehisrite had a chance to realize what was happening. "What is this?" he demanded, his hands rising. "We had a deal . . . "

"I know," Karosur replied. "It seemed a little too convenient to us that someone like YOU managed to get a hold of such restricted weapons. Even so, you don't think that we'd allow you to live for very long AFTER you given them to us?!"

With that, he seized the money he gave Aleko and put it into his own pocket. Tricked, Aleko thought to himself, a chilly feeling surging through him. He half-expected this. Whoever these guys Mansur had on his payroll, they weren't above doing something like . . .

CRASH!

Everyone spun around just as Hazel and Althea smashed their way through the window, the hunters rolling back to their feet on hitting the floor, their weapons leaping out of their holsters with oiled precision. "Hold it!" Hazel snapped. "We've got you covered!"

"What?!" Karosur gaped in surprised shock. "Who in Purgatory are you?!"

Aleko lunged into action, his fists downing the security personnel closest to him. The other security personnel ran over to attack Hazel and Althea. The hunters were quick to defend themselves with their own hand-to-hand techniques. In minutes, the hanger was like a battle royale in pro wrestling, everyone fighting with each other . . . save for Karosur, who had run out as soon as the fighting started.

Hazel tried to stop Karosur before he made it out the door. Unfortunately for her, Aleko had the same idea. As they chased after the fleeing man, they sprang into the air to tackle Karosur -- and collided with each other on their heads before they could grab them!

By the time they had recovered, Karosur was out of the hanger, in his car, and driving off.

* * *

Several minutes later, none of the security team were conscious as Hazel, Althea and Aleko caught their breath from the battle. "We got most of them!" Althea panted as she patted her friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, but the big fish got away!" Hazel noted.

"Well, I won't complain!" Aleko replied, his Dysos accent gone as he addressed the hunters in accent-perfect Vosian that he had learned over the previous six summers. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead by now. Besides, I wanted Karosur to escape."

Hazel looked at Aleko strangely. "What do you mean?"

"Simple. You don't start with a twig to tear down a tree. You have to go to the roots and kill it there before chopping it down! We follow Karosur to his contact, his contact to his and so on . . . "

"I was right," she interrupted. "You're no Yehisrite!"

"Is it that obvious?" A smirk. "Then again, a pro can tell neither of you're Tookonokooen."

"And here we thought our disguises were perfect!" Althea quipped.

"Anyway," he continued. "You can call me Aleko. You are . . . ?"

"Hazel," the woman introduced herself. "And this is Althea. We're two of Nassur's Hunters. We're investigating the strange goings on with anything to do with Mansur!"

"Funny," he then said. "So am I. Would you care to work together?"

"It depends," Hazel replied. "Who are you working for?"

"Have you ever heard of the An'san-Mikado?"

Hazel paused as she recalled the name of the most prominent of the legendary Revolutionary Special Warrior's Guilds. The An'san-Mikado -- the phrase loosely translated as "Death to the Mikado;" it actually meant something more deeper -- was a section of the Internal Security Ministry, tasked to eliminate what remained of the Mikado's forces, as well as prevent any neo-Mikado groups from springing up. The An'san-Mikado were not a group which could be ignored, especially given the fact that one of their top operatives -- known only as the "Iceman" -- had enjoyed a high kill ratio since he burst onto the scene a month before.

Still, Hazel mused, What would the likes of the An'san-Mikado want with Mansur? From what she knew, Mansur was someone who didn't seem to have any link with the Mikado or any of his followers.

"Let's just say I'm freelancing," Aleko replied after she asked him that very question.

"Right," Althea gave him a suspicious look, before she turned to Hazel. "Can I talk to you in private for a moment, Kuriinba?"

"Sure."

They walked to another part of the hanger. On noticing that Aleko wasn't gazing at them, Althea began, "Look, Kuriicha, I know you think this is the guy who saved your life years ago, but this is an important mission. The future of this colony depends on us getting the goods on Mansur. Are you willing to have someone who won't even give us his real name to help us?"

"How long have we been on this planet, dressed as a pair of Tookonokooen farm girls, without even coming close to a lead?" Hazel retorted before she waved to Aleko. "Now, he comes along and gives us something we've been trying to get on the first try!"

"Ladies." Aleko suddenly appeared beside the two hunters, causing both of them to nearly leap out of their clothes in shock. "The more you bicker, the sooner Karosur will get away!" the faux Yehisrite warned. "Do you want to bag Mansur or not?"

"Well . . . " Althea began.

"Okay, let's pool our resources," Hazel cut her friend off. "Still, let's try not to interfere with each other's work." She then paused as she considered if she should say this, and then she sighed. "I can't reveal why, but I trust you, Aleko. You might say we're fated to meet each other. But, still, we're fellow law-enforcers; once this is over, we go our separate ways, understand?"

"You got it," he acknowledged that with a curt nod. He had known about Hazel and the other Nassur hunters for years, long before their representative -- Darsei, in fact -- had come to Robert Land Academy to give a young Jamie McTavish an initial offer to come work with them. They were one of the best groups of manhunters in the known galaxy; even the Sagussans, with all their vast resources and the many Pirpirsiw'r living among them, often tapped into the expertise Hazel's group could call on to capture criminals wanted by the Fifth Republic. From what he had heard, Hazel was said to be the best of the whole lot.

No wonder she's their leader . . . and so beautiful as well . . .

Enough of that, McTavish!
he then scolded himself in mid-thought. He had a job to do; he wasn't here on Colony 100 to chase some beautiful girl, even if she WAS blessed with a pair of very pretty eyes.

He had given that up when Sandra . . .

"Fine," Hazel acknowledged. She could feel some empathy for Aleko -- or whoever he really was; she certainly could guess about that! Still, it was easy to sense the pain within him. A pain so great, she could remember only two other people having a similar pain inside.

One of them was her "sempai," Moroboshi Ataru.

The other was her teacher and foster father, Nassur.

Still, his pain radiated from his eyes into Hazel's heart, urging some type of longing for him.

Could it be . . . ?

Nah! she caught herself from going down THAT particular mental path. Get with the damned program, Kuriicha! You're here to do a job, not seek a mate! Besides, if Aleko is who I THINK he is, he's still grieving the loss of his old girlfriend . . . and, if what I was told would happen over the next year actually plays out, he'll probably get another girl he would want to marry back on Earth . . .

"Let's go to our ship," she then spoke up. "We need to interrogate whom we have."

"No problem," Aleko said, nodding.

* * *

In a well-furnished apartment in one of the richer sections of Colony 100's capital city, Karosur staggers inside. This won't please Diasur, he thought as he entered his apartment, heading right away to the videophone. He immediately dialled a number on the phone; unfortunately, Colony 100's videophone service still had no automatic dial-up service yet.

Diasur soon answered. "What is it?" he gruffly asked. "Didn't you get the Range Hunters and terminate that fake Yehisrite trader?"

"N-no, sir," Karosur nervously replied. Though he was a seasoned officer in the CCS, he always felt ill at ease whenever Diasur was upset at him. "We almost had them, but . . . "

An icy glare came his way. "'But?'"

"Two of Nassur's Hunters appeared to save him," Karosur reported. "We didn't know they were around, sir! None of the people I had with me had strong enough tracking powers to sense someone like them! I barely managed to escape myself."

"I see. Well, those people whom you brought with you know nothing about Mansur! We're still safe."

"Do you think so?"

"Look, Karosur," Diasur replied. "If all the government of the Confederation sends after us are non-Vosians and half-breeds," -- he evilly grinned -- "Then we have nothing to worry about. Now, if they had sent Nassur himself . . . that's another story."

Karosur shakily nodded. "True. What should I do in the meantime?"

"Sit tight," Diasur replied. "We don't want anyone to know what I'm really doing with the money I've transferred from my own banks while you and your men have been covering up with your 'commando raids.' By the way, how many men do you still have?"

"Forty-five. They've been adding more people. I'm just surprised that the chief hasn't noticed."

"It proves some money in the right place will buy you anything," Diasur noted as he moved to sever the link. Karosur still had some use, but even he could be replaced. "I'll inform Mansur about this. I don't think he'd be happy about it."

The link was severed. Staring at the blank screen, Karosur then felt something in his stomach.

Fear.

* * *

In the meantime, Diasur was busy calling a number on his "safe" list. "Hello?" Mansur replied.

"It's Diasur, sir. We have a problem. Karosur didn't get the guns or killed that fake Yehisrite trader who was selling them. Apparently, those Nassur Hunters intervened."

"How bad was it?"

"Only Karosur escaped. The others are under arrested and in detention."

"A sad thing," Mansur breathed out. "We'll have to dispose of Karosur. You know what to do?"

"I have their numbers on my safe list."

"Do it by tonight! I don't want anyone trying to get anything on us! Our leader in Sulanda would be most . . . upset if the operation ended before it has truly begun!"

"Understood. I'll oversee it myself. Goodbye."

The link was cut. Diasur looked over his "safe" list of contacts. Truthfully, he didn't like doing this. But unlike legitimate businesses -- where firing someone only meant they could then turn around to find a way to get back at you, either through the courts or some other way -- in Diasur's stock in trade, "firing" means going to whatever reward the Gods may have waiting for you.

* * *

Aboard the Perseverance . . .

Hazel, Althea and Aleko were talking over some plans together with Daros. The female hunters had, by then, stripped off their disguises. Aleko was still wearing his, though he no longer spoke Vosian with a Dysos-Yehisrite accent. "So we know Karosur is in Mansur's camp," Daros mused. "And that the An'san-Mikado is involved with trying to catch this guy, too. May I ask why?"

"Mansur may not be a Mikadoite or even an neo-Mikadoite," Aleko reported, "But he's just as bad."

"As far as we know, he's a just a corrupt businessman who wants to get ahead by bribing everyone in his way," Hazel stated. "He's certainly nothing to warrant bringing in you guys."

Aleko gazed on her, and then he stood, walking over to gaze out of the porthole. His eyes took in the landscape far below, a small city with several modern buildings in various states of construction, it all surrounded by temporary shacks similar to those from the poorer sections of the developing nations on Earth. "When you look out of this porthole, what do you see?" he asked bluntly.

The hunters rose to gaze out the porthole. "I see a small settlement still trying to get the basics in place," Hazel replied.

"This colony was established a century ago," Aleko explained. "Seven other colonies were established at the same time, but Colony 100 is NOWHERE near as advanced as they are. Do you know why is that?"

Althea shook her head. "No."

"It's because someone DOESN'T want this colony to succeed, Althea," Aleko replied. "Why and for what purpose, I haven't been able to understand. But, for every setback here, Mansur profits."

"What about the bombings?" Daros asked. "His businesses have been bombed on other colonies."

"There's an explanation for that, too." Aleko then smiled on seeing his companions' baffled looks before he carried on, "Mansur had it done!"

"What do you mean?" Hazel gasped. "Why would he have his own businesses blown up?!"

"That's what I'm here to ascertain," Aleko replied. "To find out, we have to think like him."

"And how do you propose to do that, Aleko?" Althea asked. "We haven't been able to get close to him long enough to get any idea of his motives. Besides, his home is designed with people like us in mind and his communications are scrambled in such a way that even Hyakka and the Home Base Computer have trouble finding out what the message was."

"There is something going on," Hazel then piped up. "We've noticed that once every week, Mansur seems to be in contact with someone on Vos. One of the smaller cities there. It's called Sulanda. It's so far away from the capital, that you can only get there either by teleporting in or taking a small plane to its' airport from one of the other cities."

"I know where that city is," Aleko replied. "If I remember correctly, many of the Mikado's cronies came from that particular sector of Vos. It was also the site of a key battle in the Civil War."

"I've been there, too," Hazel acknowledged. "It's a pretty conservative area, even today. The people there didn't like Lecasur too much according to the history books. The area was a lot like the United States on Earth." She rolled her eyes. "Ruled by almost unchecked capitalistic practices and people with a conservative social agenda."

"Now that's interesting," Aleko mused as he remembered his own visits there; Sulanda wasn't too far from Pashansho. "Then again, it would explain the number of Mikado supporters the An'san-Mikado have captured who originally hailed from there."

"I wonder," Hazel thought aloud, "What's Mansur really doing?"

"Whatever it is," Aleko said, "It could be big! But we won't find out until we get to Karosur. I take it you've got his address."

"We got it from the Colonial Security's own computers," Althea replied.

Aleko nodded. "Let's go!"

* * *

At his apartment, Karosur sat nervously. He knew that, at any moment, someone from the still-loyal members of Colonial Security could come bursting through his front door to arrest him. If that happened, Mansur would be displeased! VERY displeased!

The doorbell.

Karosur could sense someone there, but his powers -- his ability was average for a Vosian -- couldn't tell him who it was. "Who is it?" he called out as he turned to the door, a hand reaching for his gun.

"It's me!"

"Diasur?" he asked as he moved to open the door. "What are you doing here?"

Diasur stepped in, a pair of Colonial Security officers -- both larger and more muscular than the average Vosian -- behind him. Because their visored helmets obscured their faces, Karosur couldn't see who they were. "Sir?" Karosur then wondered.

"Need you ask?" the older man replied, a slight grin crossing his face. "I've been in contact with Mansur. He has decided to cut his losses and remove you from our organization. Goodbye, Karosur."

With that, he motioned to the guards . . .

* * *

By the time Aleko, Hazel and Althea arrived at Karosur's apartment, personnel from Colonial Security were there, the door of the apartment marked off as if it were a crime scene. "What's going on here?" Hazel asked the CSS officer who seemed to be in charge of the matter after she flashed him her hunter's badge.

"Murder, Miss Kuriinba," he cryptically replied. "According to reports, someone beat up one of our officers to death and escaped."

"Beaten to death?" Althea gasped.

They morbidly watched as a gurney was wheeled out of the entrance of the apartment by two medical technicians. The body was covered completely with a white sheet. Aleko moved to take a closer examination. He found his way blocked by the other officers. "Hold it!" one of them called out, and then her breath caught in her throat when Aleko reached up to pull his sleeve away to reveal the red cygnet-eating-black cygnet tattoo etched into his left deltoid muscle. "Oh! I didn't know you were one of them. Sorry!"

With that, he moved over to gaze under the sheet. "It's Karosur."

"You know him?" the officer asked.

"What do you think, Constable?" he retorted with an annoyed stare. "Do you honestly believe it's my hobby to go around looking at any bodies covered by sheets and saying, 'It's Karosur?'"

She shrugged. "It beats collecting music CDs."

This bunch needs to improve on their public relations, Althea thought to herself before speaking up, "We don't know him personally, but he's wanted for information about the recent bombings on this colony."

"I see," the officer replied. "Apparently then, there's more to it than a simple robbery attempt."

"What about the other security officers who were arrested recently?" Aleko asked.

"None of them're saying anything at this moment. It's funny, though."

"What is?"

"Karosur wasn't that high up in the ranks, but he could afford this place."

The visitors gazed into the apartment. "Dead end," Hazel said. "Let's go back to the ship!"

"Agreed," Aleko huffed.

* * *

Later . . .

"Karosur was the only link we had to Mansur," Hazel groaned as she ordered up a hot fudge sundae from the Perseverance's food replicator. "It's obvious Mansur got to him first. Now we're back to square one."

"I understand your frustration," Aleko noted as he watched his current work partner gorge herself on the sundae, his rising eyebrow the only sign of his surprise. "But, if anything, Karosur's death proved that Mansur is our target. But, as to what he might be doing and for whom he's doing it for . . . ?"

He shrugged. "Hazel!" Althea spat as she watched her friend go to town, her disgust at Hazel's eating binge all too apparent. "You eat that and you'll be going back to the blimp you were a few years ago."

"You know I eat when I'm frustrated," Hazel retorted as she carried on downing the ice cream. "Besides, you ordered a larger one yourself! And your kill-belt's looking a little snug, too."

Althea blushed, she failing to hide her own sundae behind herself. Ever since the Perseverance had been commissioned, Hazel and Althea had programmed the food units to create dishes from at least one hundred planets, including Earth. While most of the other hunters in Nassur's group didn't care much for Terran food, Hazel and Althea seemed to live on it . . . and it sometimes showed on their hips!

I have to admit, Hazel looks good no matter what weight she's at, Aleko mused to himself as he watched her eat. Maybe when this is all over, I could get her to pose for me for my figure drawing . . .

Better keep your mind on the job, Jamie!
he then scolded himself. You're not supposed to be thinking about figure drawing models right now! He then blinked. Besides, why do I have a feeling that this won't be the only time we'll be working with each other? "I've got an idea," he then piped up. "We should look up the backgrounds of all the Colonial Security members who were involved in this."

"Hyakka's already on the job," Hazel replied.

"Hyakka?"

"He's our computer technician," Althea explained. "The Home Base Computer is pretty good at getting anything from any computer system in the known Galaxy . . . though, her methods are unusual."

"Her?" Aleko asked dumbly.

"You really don't want to know," Hazel groaned as she finished her sundae.

* * *

At his office, Mansur was making a call to his hidden benefactor. "I've had Karosur dealt with," he reported. "The other people arrested don't know a tenth of what Karosur knew about our operations."

"That's good," the person on the other end of the link replied. The voice was distorted enough so that anyone listening in wouldn't be able to tell whether the person was male or female, young or old, or what race they are. All the better to keep things secret, Mansur thought. Especially from members of Colonial Security not under his control, those of Nassur's hunters already here or from . . . THEM.

"I hope our problems would be as easy to solve," he spoke with a tired sigh. "I mean, keeping the government at bay is one thing, but picking a fight with the Neo-Mikadoites, too? What are you thinking?"

"Both are too busy fighting each other to know the truth about what's really going on," the caller replied. "I should know; I WAS a Mikado hunter. When he was ready to fall, I got away. And you KNOW who's running Vos and the colonies now. Neither side has a clue about what we're doing. Even if they did, they'd only blame each other and fight until one side -- or both! -- was destroyed. We're safe to carve an empire of our own to knock off survivors! Then the people who SHOULD be ruling Vos will hold the balance of power."

Mansur soon ended the contact, and then he stood to gaze out of his office window at the capital city's night scene. Most of the construction workers had gone home for the day, leaving security personnel and those building sites that employ a 26-hour shift still in operation. The puny ants! he derisively mused. They think their work's SO important . . . when against the REAL scale of things, all they've done'll be forgotten by the start of the next working day. They don't know what real power is. Neither do those fools who're in charge. They're pretenders until someone like the Mikado or my leader comes around. Still, it's hard to believe we've come this far and ONLY raising the interest of Nassur's group and the An'san-Mikado. But . . . this is something out of even their league.

He poured himself a glassful of Terran cognac. He got a hold of a bottle of this alien alcohol from the western region of the Earth nation of France during a visit to an industrial trade show on Uru a few years ago. Since any Terran alcohol wasn't strong enough to make a Vosian child drunk, his compatriots had simply shook their heads in confusion when he announced he had bought a bottle of it at the hotel they were staying at. Still, despite the weak alcoholic effect, he enjoyed it. Perhaps someday, he would go visit the city whose name the drink bore and purchase some more. Until then, he had to be content with only a bottle.

Mansur would only drink it when he felt he had accomplished something.

He had this very day.

He had rid himself of a damaging problem and kept his enemies on the ropes. They are young, he thought to himself. Naive. They believe everyone doing something for power has to have grand plans that will play out like something out of a holovision melodrama. They forget people trying to get REAL power have no taste for theatre. They pursue their goals slowly until they're ready. And when they're ready, they strike like a cat pouncing on a mouse . . . without mercy or regret . . . and take what they want.

We're soon ready to be the cat . . .

And this colony's the first to be the mouse.

* * *

In orbit . . .

"There's gotta be something Mansur's up to which is making him hide his tracks in such an odd way," Hazel groaned as she and her companions gazed at the report Hyakka gave her sometime before. "There's no proof of him having ANY dealings with the remaining missing Mikado Marine forces or any Neo-Mikadoite groups around. All the intelligence we have on him makes him a clean as soap."

"We must be overlooking something," Aleko said. "If Mansur isn't the villain, the person he's communicating with is."

"We could prove it only IF we could tap into his conversations," Althea quipped, and then she added forlornly, "Even Hyakka can't do it."

"There's something about Mansur and this whole case which I should know. But I just can't remember what it was," Hazel then groaned before she gazed on their guest. "Aleko, you know, you remind me of someone I met long ago. Someone who helped me in one of my first cases before Sensei disappeared. He . . . saved my life, and then he said I would meet him years later."

A shrug. "I wouldn't know anything about that. When Nassur disappeared, I was only a baby."

"There must be SOME connection we're missing."

The fake Yehisrite then stood. "Why don't you go to bed for a while as I go out to find some clues?"

"How do you propose to do that?" Althea asked.

"On Earth, in the movies, police sometimes go out to the streets to find out things about the people they're after," he explained.

"We've tried that," Hazel retorted. "The streets here are as empty as most of the buildings."

"That's because everyone's more scared of Mansur than you," he replied. "I can change that."

Hazel perked. "How?"

"I have my ways," Aleko replied as a steel-cold glimmer flickered in one of his evergreen eyes. "I'd tell you, but I think it's something that's best kept a secret. I'll call you if I turn up anything."

* * *

Several hours later . . .

Like most "establishments" of this nature, the bar was mainly used for drinking and socializing. Tired workers were busy allowing their fatigue to wash away in the company of work colleagues, friends, and/or more intimate acquaintances. A few were currently too drunk when dealing with matters concerning someone of the opposite sex in an extreme way . . . with the various consequences such an act resulted in. There were a few "people of the evening" who used the bar as a way to continue their own "commerce." And then, there were a few people sitting away from anyone so they could quietly drink the night away.

It was not much different from the other five such bars Aleko had visited this evening.

When he walked into this particular bar, there were two gentlemen having an animated "discussion" via the ancient art of fisticuffs. Unfortunately, they were busy carrying their "discussion" to the door the fake Yehisrite had been walking through.

Unfortunately for them, he had been expecting something like this. Having been with the An'san-Mikado for over a month during this working tour (plus having also served as a trainee field officer during the previous summer away from the Academy), Aleko had been in these type of places more times then he cared to admit to his parents. What was worse, in many places on Earth, he wasn't even old enough to drink alcohol!

He knew what to do . . .

Punched them out and threw them out of the front door!

That gave Aleko the respect he needed.

Currently at the bar he was walking over to relax against, only those too drunk to notice what had happened didn't clear the path for the fake Yehisrite. The bartender, an average sized, middle-aged man with short balding hair and a piercing look in his eye, then came up to him.

"Whaddaya want?" he impatiently demanded with a gravely sounding voice.

"I'm not here to drink," Aleko replied. "I'm searching for information."

A Yehisrite NOT looking for booze? the bartender thought, immediately realizing how unusual that was. Yehisrites as a whole enjoyed almost a big reputation for loving drink throughout the local cluster, second only to the Sagussans. Unfortunately, Yehisrites were known not to be "happy" drunks. "Hey, this is a respectable bar, mac!" he then noted. "I don't want any trouble!"

"So I've seen. I'm looking for some people who're interested in blowing up some . . . places."

The bar went silent as everyone turned to gaze on the fake Yehisrite, they ALL having heard what Aleko just said. "Blowing up some places?" the bartender then asked as he made a hidden gesture to one of his bouncers standing nearby. "You sound like you want to help those guys who're blowing up things around here."

"That's why I'm interested in them," Aleko coolly replies. "I've been to five places tonight. There're no more bars around on this colony. Surely SOMEONE knows about how to contact them."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," the older man said as he gestured again to the bouncer, a large burly man who could easily be a professional wrestler on Earth. The bouncer then moved up slowly behind Aleko, his hands shifting up, awaiting the right moment to strike.

"I think you do," Aleko said, eyes narrowing. "A Colonial Security officer named Karosur was found murdered earlier today. He was wanted in connection with these people who have been bombings around here."

"You with the CCS?"

"No, something better . . . "

And then, like greased lightning, Aleko spun around, grabbed the bouncer behind him, and then he judo-threw the poor fellow over the bar. The bouncer hits the floor with a loud BANG! Seeing that, the bartender moved to reach for a gun hidden under the counter. Hands shot over to effortlessly disarm him, they then snaring the poor bartender in a chokehold as Aleko leaned up to whisper into his ear, "Do you know about the Iceman? If you do, you know what I can do. Now, tell me what I want to know."

The bartender went stark white. EVERYONE in the Confederation knew THAT particular code-name! "I don't know anything!" he then rasped out.

"Everyone in all the bars on this colony told me that if you want anything brought in or taken out which might be even remotely illegal, you come here!" Aleko hissed as his fingers began to press certain nerve clusters on the bartender's arms to increase the pain. "Karosur himself was known to come here. So, tell me, who did he work for? Who's Mansur working for?"

"I . . . don't know!" he moaned. "Karosur only used me as a courier to smuggle stuff through."

"What stuff?"

"I don't know. It was always in small boxes. Y'know, the ones used to carry computer storage disks."

"What was on them?"

The older man began to shake. "You crazy?! I just move stuff when stuff can't get off this dirtball! I don't look at it! Even if it's alive, I don't touch it! If I did, I'd be as dead as Karosur!"

Aleko took that in, and then he nodded. "Good survival technique. So, where did you send it?"

"I ain't telling!"

The grip tightened. "WHERE?!"

"To the Homeworld!"

"WHERE?!"

"Sulanda!"

"WHO?!"

"I don't know!" the older man wailed. "I was told to send it to a postal depot in Sulanda!"

"Who sent it? Mansur?"

"No! The packages always had his logo, but . . . the guy who sends them's someone named Diasur."

And with that, the hold on his arms vanished. "Thank you."

Surprise crossed the bartender's face. "That's it?" he demanded. "Who're you working for?"

A calm shrug as Aleko drew his communicator. "I could tell you . . . but if I did, I'd then have to kill you!" he quipped before a viperous look appeared in his eyes. "Besides, I'm not finished with you yet. I happen to have two friends in orbit who'd like to talk to you . . . once I get in touch with them."

The bartender gulped.

* * *

An hour or so later . . .

Hazel, Althea and Aleko stepped out of the bar, they noticeably more content. It hadn't taken the hunters long to get the bartender to tell them what they wanted to know in the privacy of a back room while Aleko had kept the bouncers and waitresses at bay.

"So that's what Mansur's doing," Hazel mused as they headed back to their beam-down point. "He's laundering money."

"And covering his tracks by having the people he's bought off in Colonial Security blow up the buildings he's been doing his laundering in," Aleko added. "That way, no one would notice it. Plus he's having one of his lieutenants doing it for him."

"There's another problem," Althea said. "Why's he laundering money? Why's he sending it to Sulanda?"

"If only we had access to information on some of the clients in his banks," Hazel said. "I'm sure we could run a background check on them and find out which accounts he was laundering money in."

"We don't have enough to run Mansur in," Althea warned.

"Maybe not now," Aleko objected. "Still, I think we should pay a visit to Diasur."

* * *

As they were heading back to the Perseverance, a certain bartender was making a call.

"What is it?" Diasur angrily asked. Like most people, he didn't like to have his sleep disturbed this early in the morning.

"It's me," the bartender began. "You know that Yehisrite and those two hunters looking for the bombers? They paid me a visit! They forced me to spill all I know! They know you put a hit on Karosur, and they know I pipelined your disks to Sulanda!"

"I see. Don't worry! They're bluffing. They don't know a thing about what we're doing. Relax!"

* * *

Aleko blinked as something in his clothes beeped. "Who's paging you?" Hazel asked. "I didn't think people like you needed pagers."

"It's not a pager." He pulled out a small box from one of his pockets. "It's a tracker. I snuck a bug onto that bartender's phone in case he used it to contact one of the people he's involved with."

"Did he?" Althea asked.

"Yep."

"Who?"

"Who else?"

"What do we do?" Hazel asked.

"It's time we made a collar," Aleko replied as he pointed Hazel and Althea back towards the bar.

* * *

Next morning . . .

In one of the richer sections of Colony 100's capital city, Diasur woke from a restful night's sleep. As his maids began to get his breakfast ready and prepare his clothes for the coming day, he stepped out of his bedroom to enter the living room. "Good morning, Lord Diasur," one of his maids greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning," he replied in his usual gruff manner. Diasur rarely addressed his maids by their name; he didn't feel it was professional to refer to workers that way. It would give ideas above their station in life. "Has the morning news arrived?"

"Yes, sir. It's displayed on the dining room table unit, as always."

"Thanks."

In an elaborately decorated dining room, Diasur sat at a wide table to gaze over the morning news via a desk-mounted computer terminal as breakfast was set out for him. It was not unusual for Diasur to read the news while he was enjoying breakfast; he always wanted to keep on top of what was going on throughout the Confederation and beyond as he ate. This day's headline, however . . .

The headline: COLONIAL SECURITY ON THE TAKE!

A sub-headline: PURGE HAS BEGUN!

"What's this?" Diasur gasped. Couldn't be! he mentally thundered. Those other officers captured by that fake Yehisrite and Nassur's hunters hadn't known how many people we had under our control . . .

A finger tapped a button on his computer. The screen flicked for a second, it then displaying an early morning children's show running on one of Vos' private entertainment networks. He immediately changed the channel to one of the news stations. Appearing there was footage of several members of the CCS being led away in handcuffs by co-workers. "Forty-five members of the CCS on Colony 100 have been arrested in connection with the series of bombing involving the Mansur Development Bank Corporation there and several other nearby colonies," a commentator's voice echoed from the speakers flanking the screens. "This is thought to be the biggest case of corruption ever to have occurred since before the Mikado took power . . . "

"Can't be!" Diasur gasped. "I've got to call Mansur."

"Go ahead," a woman bid him over the sound of a weapon's safety being clicked off. "Call Mansur."

He spun around to see Hazel, Althea and Aleko standing there, weapons out and aimed at him. Aleko's personal weapon looked very much like a Terran automatic pistol. Both of Diasur's maids were standing by the doors, their hands in the air. "We'd like that," Hazel added. "VERY much."

"What are you doing here?!" he demanded, though his hands had risen clear of the computer. Diasur knew he could be seen as corrupt. An idiot, he wasn't. They had him. It made sense not to deny anything.

"You're under arrest," Althea announced as she moved to put the cuffs on.

He didn't resist her. "The charges?"

"Murder, plus conspiring with those responsible for the bombings on the banks here and elsewhere."

* * *

Several hours later . . .

Aleko, Hazel and Althea met with the Chief of Colonial Security in the interrogation wing of the local CCS station. All the rooms were filled as Diasur found himself being questioned alongside dozens of other officers from CSS caught in the net with him. "Chief," Hazel inquired as soon as they got together in the hallway near the holding cells. "How's the interrogation of Diasur going?"

"Not good," the older woman replied. "Diasur admitted to having Karosur killed and to helping with the bombings, but . . . "

"But?" Althea prodded.

"He won't mention anything about Mansur's role in it."

"The big fish is trying to escape," Aleko quipped. "Have you tried everything to find out anything about a link to Mansur?"

"Everything except torture and mind-probing," the chief replied. "And that's because both are against Vosian law. Even still, I've sent personnel to the space port to make sure Mansur doesn't try to skip the colony as soon as the news broke of the arrests."

"Would you mind if I had a go?"

The chief looked at Aleko. "You? I know you're An'san-Mikado and all that, but you're not really a security officer. And you're an alien to boot! It wouldn't look good if I officially let an alien 'amateur'" -- she made finger-quotes -- "Do a criminal interrogation."

A nod. "I understand."

"Good." She smiled, pointing Aleko in the right direction. "He's in that room over there; number seven. I don't know what goes on in criminal interrogations on your homeworld, but please: no torture."

"I won't harm a hair on his head," he vowed with a wink before he headed into the holding room.

No one noticed the cold sparkle glimmering in his eyes.

* * *

He emerged five minutes later, the same smile he had when he went in still on his face. "He talked."

Shocked looks responded. "He did?" the security chief gasped. "Just like that?!"

"Just like that," he parroted before adding, "With help from a little cold-hearted friend of mine." To Hazel and Althea: "Let's go."

"Where to?" Hazel asked.

"To get Mansur and end this," he replied. "We have enough to put him away."

"It's about time!" Althea said as the three headed out.

"I'll send a squad to follow you," the chief called out after them.

"Appreciated!" Aleko called back.

The security chief watched them disappear around a corner, thinking to herself, HE'S the Iceman of the An'san-Mikado?! I should've known. A pause. Still . . . I didn't think he was so . . . normal!

* * *

An hour later . . .

At Mansur's home, the air seemed thick with tension; his servants had told him about Diasur's arrest as well as the purge of anyone remotely having a connection with the recent bombings.

It was obvious to him: he needed a way to get off the colony!

But how?! Where would he go?

For once, Mansur had lost control. If he was arrested, their plans would be dead. Just like Karosur.

He needed advice.

In his office, he accessed his private phone link to his leader in Sulanda. "I hope he's home . . . "

He then gulped as he pressed the speed dial switch to access his hidden leader's line. It took almost an eternity as the satellites orbiting Colony 100 sent the signal to the distant Homeworld. It took yet ANOTHER eternity for the phone to begin to ring. As he waited, he ordered his videoscreen to lower from the ceiling, it hanging in front of the window behind his desk.

* * *

At the main gate . . .

"It looks like he's still here," Hazel declared after locking on Mansur with her powers. "The big fish is in the net."

"Should we ring the bell to get them to open the gate?" Althea mockingly asked.

"On my planet, some cultures believe it's bad manners to ring a doorbell or knock on the door," Aleko stated as he pulled out his favoured weapon to blast open the lock with one shot. Hazel and Althea both jumped at the thunderous sound the Israeli Military Industries Desert Eagle Mark XIX .357 Magnum made when it discharged. Once freed of the lock's grip, the doors swung open.

"You're pretty good with that thing," Hazel quipped.

"Practice makes perfect," he noted.

Hazel nodded as she gunned their hovercar's motor, sending it thundering through the half-open gate. As soon as the way was clear, the hovercar flew down the driveway towards the mansion.

Unfortunately for them . . .

* * *

"Sir, someone's burst through the front gates!" a harried guard announced over the intercom. "CCS's coming in right behind them!"

"Hold them off!" Mansur ordered. "I'll try to find a way to get myself out of here!"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

"This is too easy!" Hazel warned. "Mansur's GOT to have some delaying tactic so he can escape!"

"I think it's coming up now," Althea warned, her eyes glowing.

"Duck!" Aleko yelled.

They dropped behind the hovercar's dashboard as they drew their weapons. Just in time: two dozen security guards surged out from their hiding places as the hovercar soared towards the mansion. Weapons erupted, they doing not much damage save for dents and the windows and headlights getting shot out. Finally, the hovercar slid to a halt right at the mansion's front door. Silence then fell over the scene. The guards blinked, many of them automatically lowering their weapons as they moved towards the vehicle.

Their attackers then surged up from their hiding places, weapons firing! To their credit, the members of Mansur's security force did do their best to try and stop Hazel, Althea and Aleko from entering the mansion. Unfortunately, even their best wasn't good enough against them. By the time Colonial Security arrived to arrest the survivors, the three young warriors were dashing inside.

Entering the foyer with weapons drawn, Hazel, Althea and Aleko came up on a couple of maids emerging from a side room, scaring the poor women out of their wits. "Where's Mansur?" Aleko automatically demanded.

"W-we don't know," one girl stammered. "He's not in this part of the building."

Hazel's eyes glowed. "Other side of the mansion! He's not moving."

"Be careful," Aleko warned. "He could be doing anything, including trying to commit suicide."

"Understood!" Hazel turned to Althea. "You stay here to coordinate the Colonial Security teams."

A nod. "Be careful, Kuriicha. Nobody on Home Base would forgive me if you get killed here."

Hazel smiled. "I didn't know you cared, Althea."

"Hey, I'm gonna live to see you recognize someone and get married, remember? Don't blow it by dying!"

Hazel laughed as she and Aleko raced off. "Is she always like that?" he then probed.

A chuckle. "Sometimes, she's worse!"

* * *

The video feed was grainy; someone just walking into the room would have trouble getting a clear enough picture of whom Mansur was talking to. "I see..." the figure in the video feed replied. "Our plans were getting closer to coming true. Even if we lose everything on Colony 100, I can still pull things off here. The only thing we can't afford to lose is you. You know what to do . . . "

"I do," Mansur replied, his voice full of regret and understanding. "I must not be taken alive. If I can't get off Colony 100 and find my way back to Sulanda, I must never live to get interrogated."

"Regrettable. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"I understand." Mansur smiled as he turned to a hidden drawer in his desk. There, he kept a gun handy for just this kind of emergencies. "I'll shoot myself out with this if I have to and rush to the spaceport in hopes I can get off this . . . "

The door exploded! "Mansur!" Hazel snapped as she locked on him with her pistol, Aleko doing the same. "You're under arrest for money laundering and destroying public property. Surrender now!"

Mansur spun around. "On whose orders?"

"By order of the government of Colony One-hundred."

"I see." A serene smile then crossed his face. "You think you have me, eh? I'm not so easy to capture . . . " His hand shot up, the gun in his palm as he bore-sighted it on Hazel.

Three weapons barked out at once!

Mansur's buzzed over Hazel's head.

Hazel's went wide to hit the videoscreen Mansur had been using to speak to his hidden leader.

Aleko's did not.

* * *

To the person in Sulanda, contact with Mansur was immediately lost . . .

But not before he saw Hazel taking her shot.

"M-Mansur!" the figure gasped in horror. "It can't be!" His fists clenched. "You will pay for that, Kuriinba of Kyotos! You'll pay for killing my son! I swear you will, even if I have to go through Time Itself to make it happen! You -- will -- pay!"

* * *

Hazel sneezed as Aleko leaned down to check Mansur's body for signs of life. The field agent of the An'san-Mikado was quick to realize that his shooting was, as always, a little too accurate; the bullet from his pistol had gone through the heart. "He's gone," Aleko said. "Sorry. I was trying to wound him."

"So was I," she mused. "Can't be helped. I've a feeling we just made sure history is correct."

Aleko gazed quizzically at her.

* * *

Next day . . .

Aleko and Hazel were found to have fired their weapons in self-defence by the proper authorizes.

With the last of Mansur's henchmen currently cooling their heels in jail awaiting trial, the mission was done and it was time to move on. At the colony spaceport, Hazel and Aleko walked into the hangar bay together to say their goodbyes before boarding their respective ships. Ironically, he was STILL in disguise despite the job being over. "I'm glad it's done," she mused with a relieved sigh as they walked towards Perseverance. "Unfortunately, we couldn't find out who Mansur was talking to in Sulanda, much less why Mansur was laundering money. None of his cronies knew anything about it."

"I've a feeling we'll find out," he noted. "Someday."

"So." She gazed on him. "I guess this is goodbye." Hazel smiled knowingly. "Corporal McTavish."

Silence. "You remembered me?" Jamie asked as he gazed in amusement at her. After she gave him a nod, he smirked. "I'm quite flattered, Miss Hazel. By the way, I'm a staff-sergeant at the Academy these days."

"I AM a hunter, remember?" Her smile grew wider as she added, "It's my job to find the truth." Concern then flashed in her eyes. "Jamie, why can't you join us on Home Base? Why work for the An'san-Mikado? We could use more people like you."

He remained silent for a moment, and then he breathed out, "To be honest, I've always been tempted to work for you people. And believe me, I was flattered beyond belief when you gave me that offer. Turning it down -- both times, actually . . . "

Hazel tensed on seeing pain flash in his eyes. "Jamie, I . . . "

"You know about Sandra, don't you?"

The hunter blinked as that name washed through her, and then she nodded. "I grieve with thee," she formally declared in Old Vosian.

"My thanks, honoured warrior," he replied in kind; Kyoosur had taught him the ancient tongue over many wonderful summers on the shores of Lake Dvorak near Pashansho. A lifetime ago to the Canadian. "Well, because of that," -- he switched back to modern Vosian. "There are things I have to clear out of my heart and mind first. Working for you people . . . ?" He shook his head. "I'd be a disruption. After all you people've been through, that would be unfair. Like it or not, being part of the An'san-Mikado . . . "

"Is the best for you at this time," she finished.

"Yes. By the way, I heard the good news about Nassur and his wife. Congratulations."

Hazel blinked, and then she beamed. "Thanks! Actually, I'm going to visit them on Earth." A shrug. "Who knows? You'll head back to Earth sooner or later, I guess. Maybe we can meet each other again there."

He considered that for a moment. "I'd look forward to that. It's a small universe, after all." Evergreen eyes then flecked over to gaze into deep azure ones. "Until such a chance comes, IF it comes, Miss Hazel, please . . . don't expect much from me."

"I understand," she said as she held out her hand. "Still, stranger things can happen . . . "

He grasped her hand, and then lifted it to bestow a courtly kiss on her fingers. Their eyes locked again. Then, their hands dropped as their faces seemed to drift towards the other's.

Before their lips could make contact, though . . .

"Hey, Kuriinba!" Althea yelled from the Perseverance. "You coming or are you gonna moon with your new boyfriend in the spaceport all day?! I thought you wanted to go to Earth after this was over!"

They paused. Jamie then sighed. "Don't you just HATE that?"

Hazel breathed out, "I do." A wink. "Maybe next time, Jamie."

"Maybe next time," he echoed her. "Safe journey, Hazel."

"You, too."

The Canadian stepped back as he watched Hazel run into the Perseverance. His eyes then flicked up to the cockpit. Sure enough, as the ship began to taxi to a lift-off point, a familiar face appeared at one of the windows. She waved. He waved back, and then he stepped back, his eyes following Perseverance as it began lift-off procedures. His eyes remained locked on the hunters' frigate as it soared into the sky and disappear into the heavens. She has beautiful eyes, he mused. I'm glad I kept my disguise on . . . yet I'm disappointed that I kept doing so even after it stopped being necessary. After Sandra, I don't think I could take having a Vosian recognize me so quickly, let alone meeting some girl on Earth. Turning away as he headed to where the An-qil Ufpif was parked, he stopped as something came to him. Going to Earth to meet her stepparents, eh? A shrug. Oh, well. Maybe we'll be just friends from now on . . .

Maybe . . .

Jamie sighed as he turned to boards his ship for his next mission.

The End . . . For Now

**** **** ****

WRITERS' NOTES: And so the story begins to come full-circle . . .

1)The North-West Mounted Police exists today as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

2)Some translations:

Qu'f-Piaqu'r . . . Literally, "fire-stick." A breech-loading weapon firing particle-photon based rounds; it would, from a distance, resemble an 1870s-era Snider-Enfield .577 rifled musket then in service with the British Army. Ataru used this type of weapon in UY-TSY.

butsudan . . . a shrine normally found in most Japanese homes that serves as a personal place for people to mourn lost relatives.

ihai . . . a special memorial tablet which bears the posthumous name of the deceased.

3)Robert Land Academy does exist; it's located in the Township of West Lincoln in Ontario's Niagara Region, eight kilometres west of Wellandport and 20 kilometres from Welland. Fred attended the school between 1980-84. In the context of UY20YL, RLA (as the Academy is short-formed) has a girls'-only sister school, Laura Secord Academy (LSA). This is Sandra's alma mater. In real life, LSA doesn't exist.

**** **** ****