Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ New Blood ❯ Enemies and Allies ( Chapter 3 )

The once friendly atmosphere had never felt so hostile. As he leaned out his window that morning, Gatty's thoughts drifted back to what he'd been told the night before. He couldn't believe it. Traitors in the Dragonslayers before the mission had even begun. It was unreal. A minor bit of disagreement - *that* he could have expected - but outright treason? A plot against Dilandau's life? He'd been left speechless.

No more than ten hours before, he'd been summoned straight from practice to Folken's personal audience chamber, as requested by Folken himself as well as Commanders Dilandau and Reika. The meeting was swift and he found himself stumbling out of the door and on his way back to his quarters before his mind could even fully process the information. Of course he'd had no choice but to agree to the terms of his mission - he hadn't given that a thought - but after a long night of mulling it over, he'd decided that his duties and his wishes were in a clash over the issue. He had no desire to be involved in anything that could even possibly lead to a lack of unity among the Dragonslayers. They were one in their purpose - or were supposed to be at any rate - and losing a soldier was like losing a part of oneself. Every person had a place. They all depended on one another in one way or the other, and no matter how seemingly insignificant the role, each was a vital link.

Not that some aspects of the assignment weren't tempting. It was a fairly significant amount of jurisdiction he'd been given. Limited in some ways, but significant. While he couldn't fairly make a physical move against one of his comrades, he was solely in charge of identifying those potentially guilty. A less honorable individual could easily enough misuse such a power. It wouldn't be hard to, say, find evidence against Gabriel or Alexia. Even Dallet. All three were suspected as it was. It would be too tempting…

But not within Gatty's personal agenda. As he'd repeated to himself, the purpose of this mission was to strengthen the Dragonslayers against their inside weaknesses. Like destroying a virus. There was no sense in removing something vital as well.

In that light, he'd spent the night reviewing and planning. He was determined not to make that wrong choice, but thus far it had proved difficult. Out of the dozen or so suspects he'd initially had from both Dilandau's and Reika's troops, he'd narrowed it down to four. Neither proved more convincing than the others, unfortunately. This was going to be difficult.

First and foremost on his mind was Dallet. The younger Dragonslayer was noted since the beginning as being one of the most loyal in Dilandau's troop. He'd proven his worth more times than Gatty could count off the top of his head and had demonstrated exactly the qualities ideally displayed by every good soldier. Still, that was but the official record. Anyone who knew Dallet personally would have to agree with the suspicions against him. While motives were still difficult to discern, a few details presented themselves that did not run in the boy's favor.

Personality came to mind immediately. Dallet, while friendly enough when he had to be, was incredibly quiet. He kept to himself and preferred to avoid the spotlight, even in the midst of a battle. It was a known fact that if there was one thing Dallet disliked it was direct confrontation, but why that would be was mere speculation. In all the time Gatty had known him, Dallet had only rarely expressed his opinions or shown an accurate attitude toward any issue. He kept too much close to his heart.

As well, his heritage had given rise to concern even when he'd first entered. It was not hard to see that the boy wasn't a true Zaibachian, but the particular combination - Fanelian and Freidian - was enough to raise a few eyebrows when he achieved such a high rank. Dallet himself had been born and raised within the Zaibach capital - the only reason they had let him keep his place - but there was always the worry of what he may have learned from such a background. Especially since it would have been among the many things he had never shared.

Gatty scowled, leaning forward on the windowsill. Dallet's recent actions hadn't done much to improve his position, either. From all accounts, he'd come an inch too close to actually striking Dilandau during the meeting concerning Gabriel and he wasn't even supposed to have been there in the first place. It was a highly unusual move for Dallet; completely contradicting of his quiet nature. Gatty never would have figured he'd pull a stunt like that. And his statements afterwards… If he wasn't directly responsible for the worry passing between their superiors, he was more than definitely up to something.

That meeting in itself brought him to his next candidate. It was no secret that Gatty held a personal grudge against Gabriel, a fact that had initially made Gatty want to dismiss him out of pure worry that he was being hasty in his judgment. After a quick review of the facts, however, he had to admit that there was more to it than just his personal bias. Gabriel was indeed a troublesome soldier. No one particularly enjoyed his company and - while he was outwardly loyal - his erratic behavior led most of the team to avoiding him except in a particularly tough situation. Unfortunately, Gatty had only limited facts to go on. He'd never taken the time to even attempt to understand Gabriel, and not much was known about his past to anyone. The only statement that was ever made was that he was supposedly a test subject for the sorcerers at a young age. Precisely what had taken place and why was not known. It wasn't even known if anything had taken place.

Still, the rumor was enough to make Gatty think twice before blaming him, even if it was true that he would have liked to. There was no telling who or what Gabriel really was, and Folken himself was awfully protective of him. Jumping to conclusions on that topic would have been particularly unwise.

The third suspect, Alexia, was an even touchier subject. Like Dallet, it was her past that set her apart. Though it was mostly kept secret and safe, the girl hadn't always been the model soldier she appeared to be. Months earlier she'd been nearly executed when she'd pulled a sword on Dilandau in a hallway. The battle had been brief, ending with Alexia badly injured and in custody. Dilandau had escaped the encounter with nothing more than a few light scratches.

Sadly, anything he might glean from it had been squared away and classified. Folken had had her released without a given reason and all record had been wiped out of existence. Those involved pledged their silence and it was over. Erased as if it had never happened.

Gatty was the only one who'd been missed. He had been unknowingly involved, but was lucky enough to have had Guimel to talk him out of it before he'd gotten himself or someone else killed. No one but Alexia remembered his involvement, however slight, and she had kept it silent for him. He hadn't even had to ask, strangely enough. She'd simply never mentioned him. Even yesterday when after weeks of avoided contact they'd run into each other in the hallway, she'd simply smiled and greeted him before continuing on. That in itself was enough to hold him back. There was a chance she'd genuinely settled the problem.

Fourth on his list was the hardest to swallow. Much as it pained him, Shesta was suspect. If it did indeed turn out that Gabriel was behind the problem, they'd both have to be taken in just on a matter of security. It was a sad thing. The boy would only have been doing what he thought was right. His motive was a simple need for conformity. He was as Gatty had been all those months before. Dallet had called him lost, and for once he'd been right.

With a sigh, Gatty dropped his forehead into his gloved hand. Shesta. Poor naïve kid. In the past several months, they'd become quite good friends, actually, and incorporating him into such a heinous plot was not something Gatty was enjoying. Shesta was a perfect target for deception. He had an innocence that shouldn't have survived into the Dragonslayers. He trusted too much. He didn't view things objectively. To him, enemies were on the other side, never within. He was too idealistic.

The breeze changed directions, tossing his hair and sending a shiver down his spine.

The once friendly atmosphere had never felt so hostile…

Halfway around the Vionne, Alexia's thoughts were traveling in a similar direction. She had a view of early morning sunlight as it filtered through the patchy cloud cover and danced over the seemingly endless expanse of the sea. A little closer, the harbor contrasted the peace of nature with its perpetual bustle of activity. She'd counted at least eight floating ships anchored over the area - not a single one the same as had been stationed there the previous day - and identified each one from memory. Her early childhood experience as the daughter of a wealthy mother and a mechanic father enabled her to go as far as mentally take each one apart if she was bored enough.

But her mind was hardly unoccupied. It still rattled with the thoughts plaguing her since the night before. Her duties started in an hour, but she was hardly ready. Her hair was a ratty tangle that stuck out a full three inches from over her left ear. Her uniform was still where she had left it: in a heap on the floor half kicked under her bed, excluding one boot that she'd successfully tugged on for no apparent reason. She sagged over the window sill, legs barely holding her up, and continued her bleary unblinking gaze over the endless waters.

Though her eyes were supposedly distant, her ears were perfectly attuned. She listened to the retreating footsteps of her long time friend and current ally, Dallet, who'd left her quarters only a few moments earlier in the direction of Dilandau's audience chamber for roll call. He'd appeared at her doorway a mere ten minutes before that to awaken her from what little rest she'd had and say a few words before moving on.

While he was, true enough, her best and commonly only friend, there were days when he was simply a pain.

"Talk to Shesta," he'd said in his own blunt way. "Convince him that you're on his side, Alexia. If I'm the one he fears, leave me out of it. He doesn't have to know about me. Play me off as the enemy if you have to. We need him on our side.

"Don't betray him. Befriend him."

Her head slumped down into her arms and she closed her eyes. Immediately the darkness started to claw its way in. Two hours she'd slept. Two hours she'd wandered. Five minutes she'd spent in another soldier's quarters, watching him sleep; a soldier she had now to talk to, befriend.

Coerce, deceive, mislead.

But not betray.

She chuckled softly, her voice a croaky whisper, "Dallet, you should have been a commander. Do you ever think out your orders before you give them?"

Lifting her head, she blinked again, forcing sleep back to the deepest recesses of her mind. Below her, the engine of a particular ship she'd had her eye on growled to life. The Crusade. She'd heard of it, however briefly. Commandeered by Allen Crusade Shezar, the youngest and most skilled of the Knights Caeli. Word had it that he was being stationed on the borders of Asturia closest to the Kingdom of Fanelia.

Distractedly, she wondered who he'd angered to get such a despicable post.

How she wished she could go with him, though, or with any of the travelers milling far below. As far from civilization as possible. As far from plans and training and deceit and timing and intimidation and… and… people as one could get. It was so difficult being a Dragonslayer. Asturia was not so well off in comparison. The life of a Knight Caeli or a merchant couldn't possibly have the same trials and trepidations. Zaibach held places like Fanelia and distant Freid in contempt for the reason that they were simple. Backwater. Useless.

But were they really? Peaceful, she thought. Quiet, relaxing. If Zaibach was the best of the best, then perhaps she would rather settle for something a little more average…

But those were a traitor's thoughts and traitors didn't belong in the Dragonslayers. Ideally, anyway. For now, she was where she was. She had missions and orders and duties to carry out, no matter how painful and overwhelming they may be. It was a Dragonslayer's job to carry out the impossible by any means available. Results were what mattered and results she would get.

Forlornly, she glanced to the tangle of her clothes, strewn haphazardly across the carpet.

At the immediate moment, all that mattered was getting to roll call on time for once. Reika was threatening her again, after all. Shesta could wait. He'd still be there that afternoon. With that in mind, she was able to pull herself to her feet and stumble across the room to where her other boot lay.

A flock of birds swept past the open window, chattering madly amongst themselves before vanishing once again into the wind swept clouds. A slight spattering of rain speckled the tile floor from a previous drizzle, but the room's lone occupant hardly noticed, even with the clear golden glow of new sunlight washing across the glittering puddles directly in the path of his gaze. Lately he'd had very little time to actually think over the course that his duties were following, but now, finally, there had been a chance to breathe. That afternoon another practice was scheduled, but there was still time until then.

Dilandau tapped his fingers on the edge of a simple but delicate wine glass, staring impassively at the translucent pink liquid. It certainly had been a while since he'd touched his favorite stock of Asturian vino. He'd never regarded Asturians very highly in the least, but they knew how to make a good drink, if anything. He took a thoughtful sip, lifting his gaze to the window. It had definitely been much too long. Understandably so, but still bordering on unforgivable.

A scowl crossed his face and he dropped the glass back to the table hard enough to nearly break it. His dilemma was all the fault of the incompetents around him and such a thing angered him greatly. Between Dornkirk's demands on his team, Folken's meaningless inquiries, Reika's constant badgering and Gabriel's general lack of sense, the commander had more than enough on his plate. For the last day, it had been all he could do to simply keep his sanity. These, the few hours he'd had to himself, he'd spent watching the skies outside and planning his moves. The weather changed as rapidly as his thoughts at the present altitude, but he was too wrapped up in his problems to even consider shutting it all out.

Least of his worries was the assassination attempts, he'd decided. Folken was being summoned to speak with Dornkirk that afternoon concerning their first real move towards the long prophesized "ideal future". The attack would be the responsibility of Dilandau's troop in specific since they were the best trained and most organized.

Considering recent events, those words brought a grim chuckle to Dilandau's throat. Those were simply the stated reasons. In truth, his soldiers were no better than any other team. There were members of Reika's troop who could do it all by themselves, he was sure. They were much stronger and quicker. His own troop was hardly ready.

The truth was that it was all because of Gabriel. Very simply, he was under Dilandau's command and no one else's, so his group was good to go on that reason alone. Gabriel was 'perfection'. He was a deadly fighter thanks to the fate alteration and luck enhancements he'd endured before entering the team. He was loyal, strong, and impossibly quick. Not only that, he had the best strategy training out of any of them. Gabriel could complete the missions himself with a little extra luck. The others were there for no other reason than to simply make his job a little easier.

Dilandau swallowed a mouthful of vino, but it suddenly tasted terrible. Who were those fools trying to kid? Gabriel was a failure. He wasn't welcome even if he would have been stupendous. What was the point of the glorious Zaibach military if it could so easily be replaced by lab rats?

The answer was simple when he thought about it: to make up for flaws like Gabriel.

He sighed and threw one foot up on the table, rattling the bottle nearly off the edge. His gaze settled darkly into the sunlit pink liquid, his voice a low growl behind his hand, "Nothing but back-up. I hate being back-up." The only reason he tolerated his place was a simple one. The flaws were worse than any of them thought. Gabriel was strong and fast, yes, but his loyalty was to himself and no one else. His strategy was well-founded, but erratic. He endangered his own comrades more than he endangered the enemy. He was a failure. An absolute, no questions asked failure.

But Dornkirk was ignorant and Folken wouldn't look. They were blind to everything they didn't wish to see. The ideal future might as well have already been achieved. All they needed to do was tell themselves that the world was wonderful and it would be so in their own minds.

Precisely why Dilandau still felt his place necessary. No matter what their grand schemes were, they'd be nothing without him and the soldiers. Their science be damned. It couldn't replace strategy. No way in hell.

But still they planned, and still they forced more impossibilities on the Dragonslayers team. Shesta as a new addition proved a difficult incorporation. The boy was floundering and taking everyone down with him. He couldn't sword fight or pilot nor concentrate on a single task handed to him. Dilandau supposed he should have prodded into the issue, but he hardly cared what Shesta's problems were. The boy was a strategic disadvantage and the less he knew the more chance that he'd be eliminated and save Dilandau the trouble. Whatever his personal problems consisted of, they were nowhere near as important as the success of the mission, and he'd have to set that straight in the boy's head before he could be ready, like it or not. If Shesta didn't focus on that afternoon's practice, Dilandau swore he was going to personally beat the notion into the boy's head.

Or kill him. It all depended.

Dilandau sighed. He had two months to do it all in. A mere sixty days. Folken had given the time restraint himself. In two months, the Alseides units had to be fully tested and modified, the soldiers had to be trained to perfection, and they had to know their mission inside out and backwards. Soon after - how soon was yet to be determined - they would head out to attack their designated target; the first in a succession of attacks that would bring everyone on the face of Gaea together to face their ultimate future.

If it all didn't fall down around them before they could get the plans off the ground, that is.

Dilandau's gaze lifted sharply at a familiar high pitched chattering. He watched with a mixture of distaste and annoyance as one of the pure white birds that had flown past earlier alighted on his window sill and started to sing a monotonous series of warbles, hopping back and forth as it did. He clenched his fingers around the glass and let out a shout, leaping half to his feet and hurling the object straight at the animal. The glass shattered against the wall, spattering bright pink droplets all across the bird's clean plumage and sending it careening backwards into the skies, shrieking in protest and confusion.

Dilandau wavered on his feet for a few seconds as the small bird vanished back into the drifting clouds outside, then finally sagged back to his seat, dropping his face into his hand with an uncharacteristic sigh of resignation.

The vino dripped down the wall on the other side of the room, swirling in bloody scarlet streaks through the puddled water. In the distance, the birds were silent.

Night was a unique thing on the floating fortress Vionne. While all other places on the world of Gaea held their share of disturbances and regular background sound in the night, the atmosphere of a Zaibach fortress was near pure silence. It came precisely when ordered and ended when expected without change, but in that time, the air was simply lifeless. Towards the central stations, it became even more apparent. Without the faint whisper of moving air, the silence swallowed all sound. Only the bridge was an exception to this rule on occasion, when activity continued throughout the evening. More often than not, however, the peaceful reign of quietude prevailed in the presence of the skeleton crew left to man the craft through the starlit hours. Those few were the privileged few as it was told. On a clear night it was very possible to lose oneself in the beauty of the heavens stretching to the shadow of the horizon and beyond.

Deep in the lower decks, as well, the void could reign, although there it was more a sinister force than a benevolent creature. The hangar bay in specific was an awesome and frightening place in comparison. Its expanse was home to shadows and emptiness that could turn the imagination of even the most dull individual loose. With a little thought, the hulking uniform shapes of docked Alseides Units could easily be silhouettes of giants. Chains and machinery became vines, snakes, or wild creatures. As well, the deepness of the shadows was all encompassing - home to ghosts and monsters banished since childhood, if an idle mind gave it possibility. Most didn't dare venture close enough to find out.

But even the haunted atmosphere failed to chase off all life on that particular night. A stranger invaded the quiet that night, shedding flickering blue flame light where none should exist and shattering the silence with the reverberations of metal to metal as he perched high and precariously atop one of the guymelefs docked there. Shesta had been working non-stop since he'd escaped from the practices that afternoon. He'd faced off against Gatty this time and - while his friend had tried his best to go easy - he'd still beaten Shesta thoroughly and disappointingly. That made five times in a row that he'd faltered and only three that he'd succeeded in the past week and a half. Certainly, his sword fighting skills were improving, but he hadn't done a lick better in his guymelef. If he didn't shape up soon, he was going to lose his place in the Dragonslayers. That was something he didn't think he could handle. To come so far only to be thrown back? He'd never hear the end of it as long as he lived. What a disgrace.

Sparks flew on the next strike as his hand faltered, and he swore aloud, casting the tool to the side in an unusual outburst of anger. It clattered noisily across the metal and off into soundless oblivion; a full five seconds later he heard it patter across the catwalk thirty feet below and fall silent. He let out a long slow breath, slumping where he crouched. It had been an entirely too long night already and so much more remained. He'd barely touched on the repairs and modifications he'd hoped to make to his doomed machine. It already seemed so pointless. What good would a fully operational Alseides be if he, the pilot, couldn't even control it? If he left a few things partially damaged at least he'd have something to blame…

"Hey!"

The call was like a shot in the dark, startling Shesta completely out of misery and back to full alertness. He whirled around, dropping to hands and knees to peer down to the catwalk below, but could see no one in the dim light.

"Hey! Shesta!" the voice came again, and this time movement accompanied it, "You dropped something down here. Need a hand?"

The face peering inquisitively up at him finally registered in his over-tired mind as belonging to Alexia. He frowned for a moment, remembering their first - and last - encounter.

She cupped a hand to her mouth, "I said…!"

"I heard you," he called back, turning away, "Actually, I've just about given up. This thing is hopeless."

The sound of something scuffling against metal dragged his attention back to the edge. After a moment of confusion, he spotted Alexia clambering spider-like up the side of the guymelef, barely even looking before finding hand and footholds. It was a frighteningly dangerous maneuver. If she slipped, it was a very long way down to the bay doors.

"What the hell are you doing?" he clamped both hands onto the edge of the guymelef's shoulder, "You're going to get yourself killed. I told you I…"

"You said you were giving up," she said casually, grasping a thin edge at the border between it's arm and shoulder and hefting her right foot to the level of her hand, "I figured that since you'd been out here all night, giving up would be a shameful waste of your time. Maybe I can help."

He snorted. "I doubt it. The reason I'm quitting is because I've discovered it's not my guymelef's fault." He watched skeptically as she pulled herself up to within a foot of where he perched, then turned away, settling comfortably between the shoulder and the cockpit, "It's mine."

"Aw, don't say that…"

"It's true. I'm not cut out for this job," He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head.

Behind him, Alexia grunted as she hauled herself over the last edge and onto the very top of the thirty foot guymelef. She clambered nimbly across the slick curved surface and stopped just above her comrade's position. A light frown set like a shadow across her face as she peered down at the back of his fluffy blonde head, "You're being awfully hard on yourself, you know. I heard you nearly beat Gabriel in a sword fight. That's worth something, isn't it?"

"Not according to Lord Dilandau. I'm fighting him tomorrow. That's why I'm out here. I was trying to fix my guymelef to give myself some kind of advantage," one hand curled into a fist as he spoke, betraying the despair he wasn't showing, "There's no advantage possible that could save my life there."

"Shesta…" Alexia got abruptly to her feet, hopping one footstep at a time down the guymelef's shoulder and over to the top of the cockpit, "You're not going to die out there. Dilandau's a fierce one, true enough, but I doubt he'd kill one of his own men. Dead Dragonslayers are never replaced. He needs you."

Shesta laughed grimly, "Like a hole in the head. I'm an extra weight that no one needs. I was authorized to this troop two months after the Dragonslayers teams were supposedly completely assembled, even though they already all had the full complement of fifteen," he shook his head sadly, "I must have done a really horrible job as a soldier if the emperor himself wants me dead."

Alexia lashed out with the speed and grace of a cat, swatting one hand across Shesta's right ear and startling him into nearly toppling right out of his perch. He yelped out loud as his foot slipped into oblivion and both hands immediately clamped onto the nearest edges, stopping his fall just in the nick of time. He whipped his head up, green eyes flashing with hurt and anger, "What did you do that for?! If I'd fallen, I could have broken my neck!"

She grinned, stretching a hand out and grasping his wrist, pulling him back into place, "You have to admit, you asked for it. Self-pity doesn't belong in a Dragonslayer. It's worthy of much more punishment than just a light tap."

"Light tap my foot." He clambered back into his spot, swatting her back half-heartedly and missing by a hair, "That hurt." A suspicious glint came into his eyes, "Do you even have a reason for being out here? It's awfully late for giving random pep talks."

She grinned conspiratorially, "Call it fate."

Shesta shifted himself back to a comfortable position, "Fate. Hmm. So you've read up on Emperor Dornkirk's theories too. Nice to know I wasn't the only one," he turned his gaze to some unknown point far across the bay, "Did you ever understand that section on fate alteration of a human life? It seemed… a bit incomplete when I read it through…"

She shrugged, turning over to lie on her front, resting her chin in her hands and letting both feet dangle off the edge behind her, "I never gave it much thought. I just took it for how it sounded, but if you mean the procedure, I don't think they've perfected it yet. I've only heard of one person ever going through it and that was a rumor."

"You don't trust rumors?"

"I don't trust the people who start rumors. There's always something misreported."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response, "So you don't think they've ever done a successful fate alteration then. I'd heard the rumor myself and lots of people say it's Gabriel. I can believe it."

"Hmm." A slightly troubled look entered her eyes, but it was gone before Shesta could question it, "I don't know what the sorcerers have done with fate alteration. Everything they do is so… closed. I'd heard they experiment on children. Street kids and runaways from other countries."

"I hope not." He shuddered just vaguely.

"That bothers you?"

He shrugged, "It's a disturbing thought, is all. I don't think I've ever met anyone who's had something nice to say about sorcerers. They're always portrayed as being so… dark… evil almost. I don't know."

"I've never met a sorcerer so I can't judge, but I doubt they'd be crazy enough to mess with members of a group like the Dragonslayers. We're too important. I wouldn't say that Gabriel ever had anything to do with them. He's just harsh is all. Not someone to cross."

"I've noticed." Shesta glanced up at Alexia through the feathery shroud of his too-long bangs, "Did you know that he threatened to kill me?"

"I heard something to that effect." She blinked, then met his gaze, "You don't believe that do you?"

"Not really," he turned away, "Not after he said that Dallet was trying to kill Dilandau, anyway. I can't believe that, so I couldn't believe what he said before. It doesn't fit."

An odd expression crossed Alexia's face as Shesta spoke, something vaguely resembling relief but masked immediately with a wistfulness "Dallet would never harm Dilandau. I know him much too well for that. I'm glad you see it, Shes." She frowned distantly, "Not everyone can see it that way."

"He doesn't exactly promote trust in people. Gatty thinks he's hiding something."

"Everyone thinks he's hiding something," Alexia growled bitterly, "They never take the time to look. He's just… protective of himself. All he grew up seeing was that the more of yourself you give, the more is taken until you're lost. He keeps to himself because it's easiest for him." She let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head once slowly, "I'm sorry Shesta, I didn't mean to rant like that. It just…"

"You like him, huh."

She blinked, caught off guard by the impassiveness of the statement, "We're… friends I suppose… but I don't like him if that's what you mean…"

"But you care about him. You don't want him to get hurt."

She smiled, "Shesta, I don't want anyone to get hurt except those who deserve to. That's what being a Dragonslayer is all about."

"Hmm," Shesta eyed her skeptically, "Then take the ladder down when you leave. You're going to get hurt or worse if you're not careful." He turned away, dropping his chin onto his folded arms.

Alexia sat in stunned silence for a moment, then slowly nodded, "So you want me to leave then." A note of disappointment entered her voice; just enough to get Shesta's attention.

He lifted his head, leaning over to look her in the eyes, "What are you talking about? All I told you was to be careful. I thought that was what being a Dragonslayer was all about. Looking out for one another."

"True, but you also implied that you want me to leave, Shesta. It's not just what you said, it's how you said it."

A nervous smile played at the corner of his mouth as he half-cocked his head to one side, "I never said..."

"But you implied," Alexia cut him off, glancing quickly at his face then away.

He let out an airy sigh of frustration, the smile vanishing. "I meant it for when you climbed back down. I didn't mean that you had to go down now." He nervously scratched at the back of his head, "Either way, you've got a point, I suppose. I still have a lot of work to do before I face off with Dilandau tomorrow."

Alexia nodded, flashing a weak smile, "Good luck with that."

"Thanks Alexia," he glanced over his shoulder to the jumbled mess behind him, "but I don't know how much a little luck will help me when Dilandau is pounding me out there."

She shrugged, "Just do your best and you'll be fine. That's all you can do anyways."

He smiled weakly at the encouragement, then looked back at his guymelef and sighed, somehow wishing that the next day wouldn't come.

Alexia turned away, caught up in her thoughts, "Well maybe I should go. You do have a lot of work to do and all I'm doing is preventing you from finishing it."

Shesta looked back at Alexia. "Well if that's what you want to do, then I guess I'll see you around. If I survive tomorrow, of course."

She chuckled, reaching out to scruff his hair playfully, "Stop worrying, you'll be fine, " before turning and starting back up the guymelef's shoulder, swinging herself over at the edge. "See ya."

"Bye, Alexia." Shesta bent over, digging back through the jumble of wires, then, with a sudden thought, spun to call over his shoulder, "Hey! I told you to be careful!"

By the time he's said the words, however, he could already hear her footsteps retreating along the catwalk below. He frowned in mock annoyance for a moment, then allowed a small smile to flicker across his features and turned back to his work, laughing quietly despite himself.

High above, Gabriel crouched silently on the farthest and darkest catwalk. His wrists hung over the edge of the railing above his head, the fingers tingling painfully with the pins-and-needles feeling of lost circulation after two hours of watching and waiting. Still, he would not move. His eyes were frozen steady, his lips drawn back in a feral grimace. With acute hearing surpassing any natural human's, he'd heard every word. With eyes as sharp as a jungle cat's, he'd seen every gesture, every expression, every cheating glance.

And with a heart and mind as twisted as a demon's, he'd felt every burning sting as the realization sunk in. He'd been betrayed by his own blood. The anger he felt as he watched Alexia walk smugly away after so completely stealing his prey from his very claws was so intense that he felt he could have wielded it like a weapon if she'd been at his side then.

"You snake…" the words came out as a slurred hiss, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck. His left arm trembled, the fingers arcing into imaginary claws. He wanted to kill them all at that moment… His own sister had betrayed him! She who had been at his side since Folken and those bastard scientists had destroyed him so many years ago. She who had supported him, held him up, helped him plan this one last shot at freedom. She'd attacked Dilandau for him, wiled her way into Gatty's trust for him, sweet talked Lord Folken himself into overlooking the whole mess. All for him.

Or had she? That mission had failed so utterly… had she been an unsuspected saboteur all this time? Had she ever been with him at all?

One eye twitched just visibly as a memory flashed through his torn mind. Alexia smiling and laughing beneath a smog clouded sky on the steps to their home, talking to a scrawny dark haired boy with a quiet, secretive smile and a shy voice that gave away very little…

"Dallet…" Damnnit… This is all going to hell. I grab Shesta to use against Dallet and I find Dallet is using Shesta against me! He moved for the first time since he'd settled, a sharp twist that brought his gaze back to the shadows of the door at the far end of the catwalk where he knew the quarters, and Dallet himself, resided. At once, he was on his feet. I suppose I'll just have to remedy that.

Against better judgment, a laugh escaped Gabriel's throat. He ducked low and skulked back to the doorway. His shrill giggle rippled eerily through the air behind him, bouncing ethereally for long seconds after its source had vanished into the corridors.

Down below, Shesta cast his gaze nervously around him, feeling a tingle of unreasonable fear at the base of his spine, and shivered.