Tranquility Divided

Part Nine

by G. Lawrence

Recap; Needing to raise funds for a new spaceship, Grey has returned to Earth seeking resources. And found a particularly dangerous way to achieve his goal. All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Chapter Ten

PREGAME MANEUVERS

The team members lined up on the training floor for inspection. Sixteen in all, the four squares appeared jaunty in their glistening white armor and colorful unit badges.

"Congratulations, you are the finalists from Western Command," Commander Sheppard announced. "Because we have the best preliminary scores, Mugu has been selected for weed out. The teams from Southern Command are coming in from Havana, and North Atlantic Command from the muster at Portsmouth. Four teams will be chosen to face Army, Air Force, the Marines and Homeland in the finals."

"We'll kick ass!" someone shouted.

"Silence in the ranks!" Sheppard barked, though he did it with a smile. "Major Fairfield has some special instructions for today's drill."

Kris stepped forward, also wearing armor. An energy shield was racked over her left shoulder. In her holster off the right hip was a fully charged Marsden laser blaster. A patch on her shoulder read SPACE COMMAND and featured a rocket thrusting past a five-pointed star.

"We continue emphasis on reading your tactical," Kris started. "We rely on our instruments when making night landings on aircraft carriers and this is no different. But today we're tossing in a curve. What if your armor is penetrated? What if you're forced to pop your visor to breathe? Can you still use your tactical? Can you go half on and half off? How would the disability affect your team? To find out, we've placed some challenges in simulation. Then we'll review the results and try again. Questions?"

"Major, why new training? Busted armor in a vacuum is instant death anyway you look at it," a squad leader asked.

"We may not always fight in a vacuum, Marl," Kris replied. "At Tranquility, the battlegrounds often maintained environmental integrity, just as they might in a boarding action. If your seals are busted in a vacuum, that's a wrap. But if you can still fight, then you can still help your team. It's important to maintain a maximum effort."

"Is it true Governor Waters is coming to the games?" a soldier asked.

"That's what we hear," Kris answered.

"Will we get to meet him?" another questioned.

"We have no information on Waters' plans," Sheppard said, stepping up to field the question. "As far as we know, he's still in China. I suggest you concentrate on your training."

The resentment in Sheppard's voice caused many of the trainees to curb their enthusiasm. Only a few guessed the reason why.

__________

The damp courtyard smelled wet from a recent winter rain. A series of four structures connected by crumbling guard towers, the monastery looked as ancient as the land where it was located. But appearances could be deceiving. One of the buildings held a modern communications array, another housed an infirmary that assisted local farmers and their families. Only the barracks and kitchen still honored elements of the past.

Grey stood within a ring of four disciples in the middle of the courtyard, the rest of the gathering looking on. He was dressed in his black robe, his feet bare in the cold mud, and blindfolded. The four disciples engaged in the exercise were all younger men, two teenagers and two of Grey's age. They began to walk around him in a circle, initially humming or making soft grunts before gradually growing silent. Without warning, the youngest disciple lunged at Grey attempting to grab him. Grey ducked and used a judo hold to throw the youngster off.

There was a pause. Silence. Then the next youngest man charged at Grey from behind. Grey waited until the last moment, set his feet, and ducked under the attacker with a quick motion that flipped him over and down to the ground, but he had not yet recovered when the remaining two men closed in. Grey twirled and caught one disciple on the side of the head with a backhand blow as the other tackled him at the waist. Soon all four piled on, pinning Grey to the ground.

"Better," Master Shao said, helping Grey up and removing the blindfold.

"I thought for a moment... I'm not sure. I felt a sense of control but it slipped away," Grey reported.

"To challenge the world blind is not within everyone's gifts," Shao counseled. "For most, it takes years of training to stand the Ring of Four."

"How is it you compete at all?" young Chee asked, an initiate only a year in the order.

The brothers quickly surrounded Grey awaiting his answer. A few that spoke English would translate for the rest.

"I became a soldier when I was five years old," Grey remembered. "At age nine, Tranquility's Security Computer gave me live-fire training. In battle, you must be ready for anything. There may be smoke or fire. There may be no light, or heat, or air. The enemy may attack without warning or provocation. And when you wear an armored suit, the instruments may suddenly fail."

"You speak as a warrior, but you don't show a warrior's pride," brother Lowe remarked.

"Of what should I be proud, my friend?" Grey answered. "I may be skilled on the moon, but here I'm clumsy. It saddens me that my Earth skills are so poor."

"Poor! None equal your skill except our master!" novice Chee blurted. The brothers laughed as Master Shao put a hand on Chee's shoulder.

"Remember the teachings, my son. Each in his own way, each in his own time," Shao said. "To you, Grey may appear new to our ways, but necessity has prepared a special path for him. One that challenges the spirit. This is why he comes to us, my brothers. To seek harmony with his destiny."

"What is this destiny?" Lowe asked.

"That will be for Grey to decide," Shao replied.

"I'm sorry to contradict you, master, but I think the decision is already made. I think it was made long before I had a choice," Grey speculated.

"For some, that is the way of life," Shao said. "Is it within your power to accept this decision?"

"I don't know," Grey admitted.

"Then you still have much to strive for," Shao concluded.

__________

The quaintly decorated Irish restaurant in the Gas Lamp district was loud with the Friday night crowd. Having taken possession of the second floor overlooking the dance floor, Navy veterans and Black Sash candidates were particularly boisterous. In the middle of the group sat Kris and several of her company enjoying tall beers and lamb stew. Commander Sheppard sat next to Kris with high hopes for their weekend in San Diego.

"Isn't this great, Kris! What a band!" Rymae yelled over the loud music.

"Best leave we've ever had," Darris added, calling for another pitcher.

"You guys deserve a break. These last few weeks have been rough," Kris told them. "Damn, there goes my tracker again!"

Kris looked at her watch, seeing the locator blink.

"Ignore them," Sheppard insisted. "This is our first night off since weed-out. It's not like the harbor is under attack."

"It's the third signal, Ricky. It might be important," Kris said, checking for a message. All the device gave her was a security signal.

"That's weird," Rymae mentioned, looking over Kris's shoulder.

A moment later, two members of the Shore Patrol entered and jumped up the narrow stairs, searching the dining room.

"Major Fairfield!" one called out. "Major Kris Fairfield!"

"Over here," Kris answered, waving her hand.

"Wow, Kris, the Shore Patrol. What did you do?" Darris whispered.

"Hell if I know," Kris replied.

"Major Fairfield, we've been trying to reach you for an hour," Sergeant Cabbard said. "Starbird landed at Coronado a few minutes ago. They've transferred to a seagull for the flight over the bay and should be landing at the ballpark right about now."

"Yeah?" Kris questioned.

"Didn't anyone tell you? You've got a visitor," Cabbard reported. "Highest priority. Old Man Vandebrown himself authorized the transport."

"Is Waters back?" Sheppard asked, starting to reach under the table for Kris's hand before stopping himself.

"No. Didn't get the name, but it's a her, not a he," Cabbard said, much to Sheppard's relief.

"It can't be Valerie. She's campaigning in Hawaii," Kris remembered. "Don't know anyone else punching this kind of clout. Are we supposed to go over there?"

"Motorcade's coming here. Formed up once we got your track," Cabbard related.

"Let's take a sightsee," Rymae suggested, finishing her beer and running downstairs. She was soon followed by the entire party and dozens of others, including many from the dance floor curious about the commotion.

The sidewalk was already crowded as they lined up along the cement curb, the popular downtown nightspot a mixture of historic buildings and historical reproductions. Soon traffic was stopped and sirens blared as a V.I.P. runner came down 5th Street escorted by two military police motorcycles.

"Diplomatic plates," Darris saw.

"This is exciting," Rymae giggled. "Kris, any clues yet?"

"Not a one," Kris replied, standing on her toes trying to see the emblem attached to the runner's side door. It became obvious when the vehicle stopped right in front of her. The symbol was the flag of the Lunar Republic. A secret service agent opened the door.

"Tammy!" Kris shouted, jumping off the curb.

"Kris! Kris, I found you!" Tamera exclaimed, leaping from the back seat.

They stood in the street and hugged, tears running down their faces.

"It's been so long. Too long," Kris said. "How are you? How's your family? How's Nick doing?"

"Everyone is good. How about you? You look like a warrior queen!"

"Getting plenty of exercise, that's for sure. We saw your tour on the news vid, it looked nova! What are you doing here?"

"Grey asked me to take Silent Wind back to Point Magu for him, and the moment General Vandebrown learned I was coming, red carpets started rolling out everywhere! I know being an ambassador gets a few perks, but he's been really generous. Until yesterday, I didn't know he had ever heard of me."

"You'd be amazed what the Old Man knows. Look, we shouldn't be out here in the middle of the street tying up traffic," Kris decided, seeing hundreds of people watching them. "What's your schedule like?"

"Nothing to do until Sunday night but be a tourist," Tamera answered. "And I'd love to tell my escort to go home. I've had enough special attention to last a lifetime."

Kris went to the security detail, gave them permission to head out, and grabbed Tamera's travel bag off the back seat. With the motorcade gone, the crowds began to disperse.

"These are my friends Rymae Mastobo and Darris Ge'taka, and this is Commander Richard Sheppard," Kris introduced. "Rymae, Darris, Rick, this is Tamera Kantanee, the moon's ambassador extraordinaire. She and I have seen the dragon together."

"It's an honor to meet you, Tammy," Rymae gushed, shaking Tamera's hand. "I saw that vid where you pulled Governor Waters out from under the sentinel class seekers. I think you're the bravest woman of all time!"

"Me?" Tamera said, totally surprised.

"I envy you being in the thick of it," Darris added.

"Careful what you wish for," Tamera warned.

"Listen, everybody, Tammy and I have a lot of catching up to do. We'll see you later," Kris intervened.

"Kris, this is our big night on the town. Are you coming back soon?" Sheppard asked.

"Don't know if I'm coming back at all, Ricky. Don't wait for me," Kris replied.

Kris took Tamera by the elbow and they walked down the street toward the waterfront, soon branching off the crowded thoroughfare for a less populated sidewalk behind the theatre district.

"Your friend there didn't look too happy," Tamera remarked. "Is that the guy Grey thinks you're in love with?"

"Grey thinks what?" Kris sputtered.

"Maybe love is overstating it, but he believes you're attracted to somebody new. It's given him a lot to think about."

"I like Rick, we've had some good times, but I'm not in love with him," Kris insisted.

"I'd say he's in love with you," Tamera countered.

"That's his problem. Tell me about Grey, and Glenda, and the lizards. Hell, there's so much to talk about, I don't even know where to begin."

"We've really fallen behind, haven't we? And you don't even know about Kes. Or the mysterious challenge she told Grey he has to face."

"Kes? The rocks are back?" Kris said with alarm.

"No, they're gone for good," Tamera quickly assured her. "But we did get to see Kes one last time. Is there someplace really private we can talk? This is going to take a while."

Kris noticed a market on the corner ahead of them. It was a cool Southern California night, but not cold or windy. A nice evening to be outdoors.

"How about we buy a bottle of wine, get some Hefty Cakes, and go out on the jetty?" Kris recommended. "No one out there but dolphins and stars."

"That sounds like fun. Let's get some cheese rings, too," Tamera agreed.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight? You can stay with me at the dock. Rymae and I have a double berth on the Clipper Moon."

"The moon," Tamera said, looking up at the big half-moon hanging in the clear black sky. "I think Nick and I are going to miss living there."

"What do you mean, miss it? You're going back."

"Only for a month. Nick doesn't know it yet, but he's being fired and sent home. We'll be spending most of our time between Moscow and Paris from now on."

"Fired Nick! Kicked you off the moon! Don't stand for it, Tammy! Kick Grey's ass if he pulls that shit!"

"Kris, it's not like that," Tamera rushed to interrupt. "Nick and I are getting married in May. We're going to have babies. I've got my ambassadorship and Nick will be supervising our engineering projects. He and Grey are still best friends. Even better, maybe."

"What brought all this about?" Kris asked.

"Something very scary, but hopeful, too," Tamera hinted. "Kris, are you sure you haven't gathered any strings?"

"I'm not attached to anyone, if that's what you mean."

Tamera took her hand and smiled. "I'm looking forward to our talk."

__________

"Thank you, Master Shao," Grey said, bowing deeply as he reached the gate. Outside, a limousine was waiting to take him to the airport. Within the compound, the members of the order returned the bow with respect.

"To have five years of study instead of five weeks would be better, young master Grey," Shao said.

"Five years from now my moment will have passed," Grey guessed.

"Truth lies in these words, but not the whole truth," Shao said. "Stay true to your vision. Remember, the yin and yang are not decorations. Strength comes from within. Victory comes from within. But to live within yourself leads only to defeat."

"I still don't understand, master. If I live as the humans do, how can I accomplish that which needs to be done? Isn't a small loss to be preferred over a great one?"

"It's not a question of loss, my son," Shao said, the rare use of the expression getting a curious reaction from the brothers. "You've never taken the easy path. Don't seek it now. It's not your way."

"I will seek to respect your wisdom," Grey agreed.

Master Shao smiled, declining to provide correction. The old shaman was convinced that Grey's yearning for the truth would provide correction in its own time.

"Thank you, brothers, for your hospitality," Grey said. "Thank you, students, for your patience."

The disciples laughed, and even the masters had trouble suppressing a grin. Grey bowed one last time and walked out to the road wearing the same civilian clothes he'd worn coming in, his travel bag slung over his shoulder. He had enjoyed his time with the brothers but he knew, as they did, that he would never return.

"Governor Waters," a highly ranked military official greeted. "The American aircraft is waiting at the airport."

The official, likely a colonel of security, was flanked by three well-armed soldiers. The drive back was going to be crowded.

"Did you accept my crate from Japan?" Grey asked.

"We allowed the crate through customs after a careful inspection," the official confirmed. "When it proved to be nothing but an armored suit, we put it on the American transport. The fee has been included in our treaty requirements."

"The agreement will be respected," Grey assured him, looking the insolent official straight in the eye. "Tranquility will make a drop of He3 to the Jiuquan Space Center. If you find the product satisfactory, the Shanghai Bureau will be given a priority position on future orders."

"We refuse further contact with the Japanese Empire. Do not ask us to do it again."

"If I need something from them, I'll go to Japan myself," Grey informed him.

The official grunted. "Westerners are not allowed in Japan," the official denied.

"I'm not a Westerner," Grey answered, climbing into the limousine. "I'm not even an Earthling."

__________

After a flight that only lasted a few hours, Grey stepped off the chartered aircraft into a bright California morning. The Mohave Spaceport was busy servicing hundreds of airplanes in all sizes. The magno-trains connecting the airport with cities to the south and east rumbled as they passed by.

"Grey! Welcome home!" Judith Den shouted, running from a small terminal building. Behind her came several familiar students from the Malibu institute. Grey recognized Jesse and Rustodia in the group.

"Thanks, J.D.," Grey said, declining to say it wasn't his home. "Thanks for bringing some help, this is a heavy crate."

"We need to inspect that box," a grim government official interrupted, approaching with an assistant and two security guards.

Judith saw Grey frown, a sudden angry gleam in his eyes, and realized where he'd gotten his darker reputation. But the frown disappeared just as quickly.

"Of course," Grey responded. "Just show me your warrant to violate diplomatic immunity and you may search anything you want."

"Diplomatic immunity?" the official paused.

"I'm Governor of the Lunar Republic, a guest of your alliance by invitation of the Congress-In-Council, not some pathetic immigrant subject to your traditional abuse," Grey said. "Not only are my possessions immune from search without a warrant from the State Department, but I can legally shoot you without fear of prosecution."

"He's right, Paul," the assistant warned. "Unless you've got a warrant signed by Tyman himself, this could mean big trouble. The kind of trouble that ends careers."

The official stomped in frustration, then started to turn away.

"Wait a minute, I need help carrying this crate to the runner," Grey requested.

"In your dreams, you moon stealing son of a bitch," the official cursed, storming off toward the terminal. Once the government inspectors were gone, the security guards came forward to help, both amused by Grey's high-handed tactics. Grey signed autographs and posed for photos with them before leaving.

"You're in regular form," Judith said, sharing the back seat of the large civilian runner. "Rumor has it you've been beared."

"Beared. Do you mean naked? Or a creature of the woods? Showing fangs? Unwilling to invest?" Grey questioned.

"Kind of glum," Judith clarified, refusing to let him avoid the question.

"I experienced a period of disappointment. Humans are subject to such phenomena."

"Are you better now?" Judith asked.

"Much better," Grey hoped.

"Where are we going, Grey?" Jesse asked from the driver's seat.

"Arrangements have been made to rent the arena at the Lunar Landing. I'll be training there in the afternoons before the evening entertainment begins. But first I'd like to visit Point Mugu."

"You got it," Jesse said, taking the western highway.

"This training, is it true you're going to fight three seekers? Live fire?" Judith wondered.

"That's the current plan. Has there been talk about it?" Grey asked.

"Talk!" Rustodia said. "That's all anybody is talking about! Some say you're only going to fight one seeker, some say two. Some people say you won't even show up for the match."

"Are they willing to wager on it?" Grey inquired.

"They'll bet their grandma's panties if the odds are right," Jesse responded.

"Just because spools of fools are putting up cash doesn't mean you have to do it, Grey," Judith suggested.

"I see nothing wrong with a little spirited competition," Grey remarked. "If I challenge three seekers, what are the going odds?"

"Well, let's see," Jesse considered. "I heard one to three against a single seeker, and I think even up against two seekers if you're on the timer."

"What about three seekers?" Grey asked again.

"Don't know that anyone believes you'll take on three seekers, but I'd guess five... no, maybe six to one odds."

Grey accepted the opinion without comment, though Judith had the impression he wasn't pleased.

Before long they entered Soledad Pass in the rock-strewn San Gabriel Mountains. The aging cement roads and broken landscape reminded Grey a little of the moon. Except for the housing developments and convenience stores.

As they reached the coast, the runner veered south, picking up the coast highway as they reached Oxnard, then entering the Point Mugu Military Enclave. To Grey's surprise, they were waved through the gate the moment he was recognized by the guards.

"I've lived here my whole life but this is the first time I've ever been inside the fence," Jesse mentioned.

"With the current shortage of recruits, I would think the trick is getting out," Grey warned. "But don't worry, you'll look good in camouflage green."

"He's kidding, right? J.D.?" Jesse asked.

"He's kidding," Judith confirmed, though she was only guessing.

After being directed to the Black Sash training arena, they encountered a well-armed security detail.

"Major Jay Larabee, 1st Division. Welcome to Mugu, Governor Waters," a tall Marine greeted. "May we inquire what's in the crate?"

"Battle armor," Grey replied. "You're free to scan it, but please leave the packing intact. It's traveled a long way."

"From the moon?" his sergeant asked.

"Culturally, one could say even farther than that," Grey teased.

Larabee led Grey into the Navy's training facility where many staff members came forward to meet him. Grey shook a few hands, then pushed through to the arena where four squares and two instructors were hard at work. The soldiers wore their best light armor, though somewhat tarnished from drill. Behind protective barriers, staff members in long white coats were making progress notes. The seating behind the sidelines held about a hundred casual observers, most being soldiers and office workers on their lunch break.

"Look! It's Grey Waters!" someone shouted from the stands.

Training immediately halted, all attention turned in Grey's direction.

Kris came forward first, breathing hard from the exercise, her long black hair soaked in sweat. She smiled initially, then grew cautious, not sure what to expect.

"Hello, Captain," Grey said with a warm smile, finding her particularly sexy in the training armor.

"Major now. Space Division. How have you been?" Kris asked.

"Quite well, thank you," Grey replied more cheerfully than was his custom. Kris found the new attitude intriguing.

"Commander Richard Sheppard. Pleased to meet you, Waters," Sheppard interrupted, stepping between Grey and Kris to offer his hand. Grey gave the strong hand a firm shake and felt himself tested for a moment before being beset by the other soldiers.

"Will you show us some techniques?" a stocky female asked.

"I'm sure a professional of your experience has much to teach us," Sheppard added. "Can you spare an hour of your time?"

"That's very flattering, but you all look like professionals to me," Grey demurred. "No doubt you would find my methods primitive. But thank you for such a generous offer."

"Don't be modest," Sheppard pressed. "We've seen your biography and heard about your shoot-out with the terrorists in Hope Valley. You've got to be the best there is. A regular Lancelot."

"A couple moves won't hurt, Grey," Kris requested, pushing Sheppard out of Grey's face. "Let's show them that shift we used at Tranquility when the seekers had us cornered."

Grey looked at Kris and Sheppard, then the expectant faces of the trainees, wondering how to avoid participating without insulting anyone. He was still thinking when a quartermaster came up with a suit of armor in his size. He sighed and began to undress right in the middle of the on-deck circle.

"Lose a little weight?" Kris observed.

Grey noticed several of the females giggle as he stripped down to his underwear. Kris was right, he was thin from the fasting and regimen of Master Shao's temple, all part of a plan to beef up again as he trained for the exhibition. It hadn't occurred to him to be embarrassed until he noticed the look of scorn on Sheppard's face.

That's unimportant, Grey reminded himself. Stay focused.

The armor Grey was given felt loose but adjusted in the right places. He racked an energy shield, attached the converter cables to the recharger, and inspected the weapon.

"All standard equipment," Sheppard said, noticing Grey seemed uncomfortable.

"Adequate," Grey acknowledged.

"This will be fun," Kris encouraged, walking with Grey toward the staring position. "It's great to have you back, moonman. I missed you."

"Would you like to have dinner later?" Grey asked.

"Maybe two. Looks like you need it," she agreed.

They entered the combat zone and set a line as the training scenario began.

"Kris, I must leave immediately after this demonstration," Grey whispered. "I'm staying in Ventura. Can you meet me at the Pier about eight?"

"Sure. Why all the mystery?"

"The issues are complicated," he hinted.

"You're not jumping into trouble again, are you?" she asked, studying his reaction for subtle clues. Grey looked concerned, but that revealed nothing. It was his natural state.

"Not exactly, but I am involved in an important project."

"Do I get to help this time?"

"You're about to help right now."

Two seekers suddenly launched at them, igniting rear thrusters to gain altitude, then going to hover jets while shifting back and forth with their agile flank jets. A team of four turtle shaped securatrons followed to provide ground support, and a small rocket-launching robot called a Vulture brought up the rear.

"They're only quarter power, but we treat them like the real thing," Kris informed, setting up on Grey's right. They unracked their energy shields from the rear shoulder carriers, each strapping the oval presentation plates to their left forearms, then closed their visors and set a line, opening fire as the seekers sought to press their front. Grey shifted forward, Kris shifted back, and they double-teamed the lead seeker to record a hit.

Suddenly the other seeker closed rapidly and fired a fearsome series of energy bursts. Grey reacted slowly, then sidestepped, opening Kris's flank. As her instrumentation registered the hits, Kris shifted to restore the line, but Grey had moved out of position, shooting at the securatrons while the damaged seeker circled in from behind. Kris moved to cover his rear, but the Vulture skirted the embattled securatrons and fired a rocket that exploded in sparks off Kris's armor. She was officially killed in action.

"Sorry, Kris," Grey apologized as the simulation ended.

"You must be tired from your trip," Kris guessed, stunned by their miserable performance.

"Looks like fighting on solid ground is a little tougher than on the moon," Sheppard smugly observed. "Does lunar gravity really make that much difference?"

"It would appear so," Grey replied, ignoring Sheppard's gloating.

"We can try again," Kris suggested, seeing the disappointment of her teammates.

"No thank you. Not today," Grey declined. "However, there is a brief experiment I like to try, if it's permitted."

"Fly wild, Governor," Sheppard offered, backing off the training floor.

"Thank you," Grey said. "Please send one seeker into the arena, quarter power."

Grey walked back to the starting position and closed his visor. Then he pulled the blinder. Kris and the trainees moved back to the viewing line.

"What's he doing?" someone asked.

"I suppose he's showing us how to rely on our tactical. But every greenie knows how to do that," Rymae answered.

The seeker launched, rose to a height of ten meters, then dove on a curving line toward Grey's right flank. Grey remained perfectly still, his sidearm still in the holster. The trainees were nearly holding their breaths, the arena silent except for the wail of the seeker jets. Then, just as the seeker was ready to strike, Grey drew his Marsden, sidestepped once and fired all in one motion, recording a kill.

Grey walked off the floor and began to remove the armor, eventually following the quartermaster toward the locker room.

"That's it? One seeker at quarter power?" Sheppard sneered. "What a comedy."

"Maybe that bio-vid did some exaggerating," Darris decided.

"A lot of exaggerating," another agreed.

"And I thought he was so great," someone else chimed in. "Guess he's been living in Fairfield's light all along, just like Shep says."

"Okay, people, we've got work to do," Sheppard summoned, taking the students back out on the floor. Kris lingered behind, too embarrassed to speak. One of the trainers came up with a records pad in her hand.

"This is really strange," Commander Rodriguez whispered to Kris, trying to show her the figures.

"I know. I've never seen him do so poorly before," Kris replied.

"No, not that," Rodriguez said. "I was talking about this read-out. Seems we had a malfunction."

"Malfunction?" Kris questioned, looking at the combat tracker.

"See here? According to the tracker, after Waters closed his blinder during that last test, his tactical shut down. Shut down completely. No heat registrations, no radar. Not even motion sensors. Only function was audio. Were you having trouble with your tactical? Did he say anything about problems?"

"No, not a word," Kris answered.

"Must be some kind of error," Rodriguez said, banging the tracker with his hand. "No one can fight a seeker using nothing but audio."

"Yeah, that is weird," Kris agreed, looking at Grey as he disappeared down the corridor.

__________

"Remember what I told you. Especially you, Melanie," Kris lectured to the two women riding with her in the passenger compartment. "When I say get lost, go ghost."

"We hear and obey, major," Ensign Melanie Boyce said, adjusting her silk blouse.

"You guys, too," Kris added, speaking to the shore patrolmen in the front seat of the navy runner. "The moment Grey and I are settled in, clear out. I appreciate the ride, but I don't want him thinking I travel everywhere with the Shore Patrol watching my tail."

"Understood, Major Fairfield," the driver acknowledged. "But we'll be nearby should you require assistance. Admiral's orders."

"Yeah? What the hell makes me so special?" Kris asked.

"If Admiral Spruce says you're special, you're special," the S.P. replied. "Why you're special isn't any of our damn business."

Kris and her friends laughed. "Thanks, Carl. You always put everything into perspective," Kris agreed.

The runner pulled up outside a nightclub hardly more than a block from the beach. The wooden pylons and decking leading up to the entrance looked like an old pier.

"This must be the place," Rymae said, her dark eyes contrasting nicely with her gold outfit.

"Ray, anyone ever call you a damn genius?" Melanie joked.

Kris got out first, followed by her companions. One of the Shore Patrol stayed with them while the other parked the runner. A handful of patrons were loitering on the wood decking curious to see three attractive women in evening clothes jumping out of a military transport. Kris led the way to the front door.

"Simon?" Kris recognized, seeing the tall enforcer guarding the entrance.

"Hello, Kris good to see you again," Simon Gott responded. "See you've got your own bodyguards now."

"Just a couple of S.P.s," Kris said.

"Mister Gott, it's an honor," Sergeant Cabbard said, coming forward to shake hands.

"I have a team here, too," Gott advised, casually dressed but still carrying a blaster under his long coat. "Two in front, two in back and another behind the bar. Care to coordinate?"

"Absolutely," Cabbard agreed, excited to be working with the famous mercenary.

"Come on, girls," Kris urged, going inside.

The nightclub was subdued, a jazz group on stage playing the latest pop. Though dimly lit, Kris could see Grey sitting with his back to the wall in the far corner. Two handsome young men were sitting in the red leather booth with him.

"Those guys are cute! Who are they?" Rymae asked.

"Friends of Grey's from Hope Valley. The Edelson brothers," Kris recalled. "The tall blond one is Peter. The dark haired one with dimples is Walter."

The two young farmers, dressed in casual though somewhat blue-collar evening clothes, looked up with smiles at the approaching women.

"Married?" Melanie inquired.

"Not last I heard," Kris replied.

Her friends shared a wink and rushed forward.

"Hi, Grey," Kris said, reaching the table as the introductions were being made.

Walter scooted over so she could have the spot next to Grey.

"I'm sorry to have disrupted your demonstration today," Grey apologized.

"Sorry for what, exactly?" Kris asked. "Accidentally getting me listed, or doing it on purpose?"

"I'm sorry to have disrupted your demonstration," Grey answered.

"You did it on purpose?" Melanie asked with raised eyebrows.

"I did not confess to that," Grey insisted.

"You guys are rubes," Walter laughed, a young man in his mid-twenties with deep sexy blue eyes. His older brother nodded agreement, an interested gleam in his pleasant expression.

"What's a rube?" Rymae asked.

"An easy mark. A sucker. I wasn't even there and I can tell you guys took the big monkey," Walter explained. "Anybody place bets before the match?"

"Bets? What are you talking about?" Melanie questioned.

"Jesus Muhammad King," Kris whispered. "Was I really that stupid? I'm sorry, Grey. Guess I wasn't thinking."

"No damage," Grey assured her.

"No damage? Everybody thinks you're a dry launch!" Melanie protested.

"Rymae, Melanie. Disappear," Kris ordered.

"I believe the ladies wish to dance," Grey suggested to the Edelson brothers. In an instant, only Grey and Kris remained at the table.

"It's great to see you again, moonman," Kris said, sliding close.

"The moon has no indigenous life forms," Grey observed. "It's good to see you again, too. I've missed you greatly."

"Something about you is different. It's not just the long hair, so it must be something deeper. Care to explain?"

"People change."

"Since when are you people? You were hardly even a human last time we talked."

"It's true I've come down in the world," he admitted.

Again Kris was intrigued, sensing a change in Grey that defied a simple explanation. They were suddenly interrupted.

"Hello, Governor Waters. Nice to have you back again," an attractive hostess greeted with a flutter in her long brown eyelashes. "May I get you a refreshment?"

"Black Art for me. Kris?" Grey requested.

"Sounds good," Kris said, watching the waitress wiggle her hips as she departed. "Still attracting the ladies, I see."

"I've spent the last five weeks in a monastery fasting and meditating. Females were not high on the agenda," Grey mentioned.

"China. It's amazing they let you in."

"I had a special invitation."

"Are you back now? Staying around longer than a week?"

"I'm here for the next six weeks," he said.

"Okay, so what happened to us? Here we are six months later and I'm still not sure what went wrong."

"You deserve a life. I needed to find one."

"Have you?"

"I'm getting closer," Grey hoped.

Kris hugged his arm, then turned her face up for a kiss. Grey was not slow to react, enjoying the soft touch of her lips. He pressed harder and felt excited when she responded. When they drew back, they noticed a dozen people watching and grew self-conscious.

"So where do we go from here?" Kris asked, adjusting her dress.

"For the next few weeks, I'll be training for the exhibition. You have a Black Sash Tournament to win," he recounted.

"Our obligations don't conflict. Will we get to see each other?" she asked.

"I would like that. But my training process must remain confidential. Simon has a staff standing by to insure privacy. That will need to be respected."

"Should I guess why or just blurt it out?"

"Blurting is not advised," Grey smiled. "Please don't underestimate the importance of this endeavor. The Northern Alliance has allowed their option on the XL-3 to lapse. I want to buy it. Fund raising has become my central priority."

"By betting on the Black Sash games? That doesn't make any sense. What's the most you could make? Ten or fifteen thousand credits?"

"If I'm able to challenge three seekers, the odds may run six to one," Grey speculated. "Raleigh McNair's organization is placing wagers that have already totaled fifteen million credits. That's a ninety million payoff if I win. Enough to make a down payment on the XL-3."

"Ninety million credits!" Kris exclaimed. "Moonman, I've been off field too long. I forgot what kind of stakes you play for. But you can't beat three seekers. No one can. What's your real plan?"

"I intend to challenge three seekers and I intend to defeat them," he said. "Live fire, full contact roughneck. That's where the best odds come from."

"You're crazy. You know that, don't you?" Kris insisted.

"It's been mentioned," Grey agreed.

The nightclub was getting busy when the beverages arrived. Many eyes glanced toward the corner where Kris and Grey were sitting, but their privacy was respected. Gott was seeing to that.

"I've noticed Commander Sheppard has taken a proprietary interest in you," Grey mentioned, stirring his drink with a wooden straw.

"Jealous?" Kris asked.

"It produced feelings of insecurity, but that's not why I'm asking. You're serving together. My understanding is that you enjoy your duties and are fulfilling a much needed function. My duties are going to take me in a different direction. If you would be happier...?"

"Don't get self-sacrificing on me, Grey. If duty takes us apart for a while, it doesn't mean we're over."

Grey sighed. Kris couldn't tell if he was relieved or concerned, but he didn't argue with her.

"Look, if you need some freedom, take it. You're not bear bait," Kris offered. "If I need space, I'll have the same privilege. Deal?"

"Adequate," he answered.

"So what are your plans?" she asked.

"Wait for The Derth to come on," Grey replied, glancing toward the stage. "Then take you out on the floor to initiate some of your primitive dancing rituals, wait until you get tired of jiggling around, and order a big dinner."

"That's a good plan," Kris laughed. "But I was asking about your long-term plans."

"Achieve victory in the exhibition, buy the XL-3, then go to Mars and infiltrate the Arikhan outpost. What will happen after that is difficult to predict."

"Infiltrate? Why not just blast them? We can put a couple of ships above Mars and nuke the bastards from orbit."

Grey took a sip from his drink and tried not to smirk.

"Okay, what's so funny?" Kris questioned.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," he responded.

"Risk it or I'll hurt something of yours a lot worse," she promised.

"Military thinking can be so infantile at times. All we know of the Arikhan fleet is that it's coming from Vega, high above the orbital plane of our solar system. We don't know how many ships they have, how strong they are, what weapons or defenses they may deploy. What if they don't come straight at us? What if they drop down to the edge of the solar system and mask their approach through the planets instead?"

"I don't know. What difference does it make?" Kris asked.

"Earth needs to be our last line of defense, not our first," he confided. "We need time to probe the Arikhan spaceships, look for weaknesses, develop tactics. They'll be looking for the same advantage, trying to catch our defenses unprepared. They can't do that with a direct approach, but coming out of the asteroid belt, they could be on us in a matter of weeks. We need to know their strength and position before we commit our fleet, otherwise this planet's defenses won't last an hour. That information can only be found at the Arikhan outpost."

"How do you figure these things out?" Kris questioned.

"Do you find the analysis wanting?" Grey asked.

"No, it's perfect. Have you discussed this strategy with High Command?"

"My grandfather has made it clear that a person of my youth and inexperience has nothing to offer," he said, the tone failing to hide his anger.

"I'm sure James didn't mean it that way. Maybe Roger can take a proposal to them?"

"What your High Command does or doesn't do is irrelevant. I don't need their help. I need the XL-3, If my suspicions are correct, we have a slight chance of defeating the invaders. A very slight chance. And that chance relies on complete surprise. I have no intention of compromising the plan. Now or ever."

Kris studied the determination in Grey's expression and suddenly experienced a strange sense of foreboding. A destiny set in stone. A destiny that wasn't going to end happily.

"Let's dance," Kris said, hoping to shake off the gloomy mood.

Grey instantly complied. He didn't care much for the gloomy mood, either.

__________

A seeker exploded as Grey shifted right and fired, then ducked as the other two seekers formed a double-flanking maneuver. Grey sidestepped, rolled out to fire again, then ducked behind barrier four, the two-meter-tall obelisk providing temporary protection. Converter power read 35%, causing his shield power to waver. He ejected the expended power pack on his sidearm and reached for another, only to find his ammunition belt empty.

"Okay, reset the program," Grey ordered, walking off the main floor.

"It's not going so well, is it?" Peter said, the older of the two farm brothers sitting near the spare equipment.

As the air circulators sucked the heat and smoke out, the robots pulled back to the starting positions, leaving the large arena empty. Once used for ice hockey, the arena now featured holographic projectors placed in the walls and ceiling to simulate combat scenarios. Seating for twenty-five hundred surrounded the floor area behind protective glass screens, and each evening, spectators would flow out of the adjoining bar and dance floors to watch the nightly games, screaming, betting and stomping their feet. Grey was glad he would be gone before the scheduled entertainments began.

"The training is proceeding well," Grey corrected, opening his visor before removing his gauntlets. Peter and Walter rushed forward to take his weapons and energy shield. Grey dropped the belt of exhausted converters on the floor, then leaned over to pick them up rather than make someone else do it.

"You look drained," Walter observed, handing him a towel. "How long can you keep this up?"

"I'm physically fit," Grey disagreed. "A proper diet and exercise have made me stronger than ever. I've even grown several millimeters taller."

"You look like shit," Walter insisted.

"It's the drugs. They'll wear off in a few minutes," Grey responded.

"Drugs?" Peter said with surprise.

"In actual combat, I'll be fighting real seekers at full power, not holograms and these low power drones," Grey explained. "I'll be hit repeatedly, and probably injured, yet I must stay in action until the enemy is disabled. I can't afford to be injured in practice, so I'm using drugs to simulate combat disabilities. They include pain, fatigue, and a modest degree of disorientation."

"You're fuckin' nuts, you know that?" Walter said.

"I hired you for your discretion," Grey answered. "Would you rather be back on the farm picking berries?"

"Ben Brown was a better berry picker than I'll ever be," Walter said, referring to the alias Grey had used while living in Hope Valley. Grey remembered those days with fondness.

"Security, anything useful from those formations?" Grey asked, approaching the communications station. Accessing the com through a secure channel, Tranquility's MC4000 Security Computer showed aggressively on the tactical screen.

"Getting closer to a solution, Governor, but there's still an 8% energy gap that can't be breached," the Security Computer reported. "When are you going to start training in the Japanese armor?"

"Soon," Grey promised. "Work on the energy balances. If I can extend the converters to use the shield more, I may need less defensive fire. Energy expenditure is the critical factor."

"Working on it," Security acknowledged, dropping offline.

"They're here, Governor Waters," Gott called out from across the floor, his deep voice echoing through the empty arena.

Emerging from a tunnel underneath the seating, a dozen reporters and their camera crews emerged to set up in the ready area. Grey wiped his face, threw the towel to Peter, and trotted over in his training armor looking sluggish despite a genuine effort to go fast.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm allowing a limited number of questions to quell the unfounded rumors that seem to surround my proposed exhibition at the Black Sash games," Grey explained. "Please keep your inquiries short, to the point, and free of editorial content. Miss Oliver, good to see you again."

"Thank you, Governor," Jenny Oliver said, the pert journalist standing in the front row. "Is it true you're going to challenge three seekers in a live fire demonstration?"

"An official announcement will be made shortly before the games begin, but that is my intention at this time," he confirmed.

The reporters buzzed at the news, knowing they had a big story.

"Don Brewster, L.A. News at Night. Will you be using heavy industry, Governor?"

"Negative," Grey replied. "The way I understand this year's rules, a soldier in the games is allowed four weapons, two converters, a cache of jammers and a shield. Except for a customized suit I've purchased from Kyota of Japan, all of my equipment is standard arsenal."

"Governor, Winnie Hyde, Chesapeake Spotlight," another reporter said, jumping up on her toes to be heard. "Given your limited resources and the amount of firepower necessary to knock down three seekers, isn't the math against you?"

"So far I would say that's true, but my Security Computer and I are working on the problem and expect to find a solution," Grey reported.

"Who'll be holding your dead man switch, Governor?" Oliver asked.

"I don't anticipate needing one," Grey said.

"They won't let you on the field without one," she followed up.

"Maybe I'll let Congresswoman Kamar hold it," Grey joked, causing most of the reporters to laugh.

"Governor, what about the odds on the match?" Hyde asked.

"Please clarify your question, Winnie," Grey requested.

"Certainly, you realize people are betting on the games, and your exhibition in particular," Hyde said. "Odds are running seven to one for a three-seeker contest."

"To place wagers on an event of this nature strikes me as inappropriate. Such activity should be discouraged," Grey replied.

"That's all for now," Gott suddenly announced, pushing forward with several members of his security team. The reporters were quickly rounded up and herded for the exit. All except Oliver, who evaded the net to reach Grey.

"Off the record, does the possibility of sabotage concern you?" Oliver asked, matching his strides toward the locker room.

"No, Jenny. I believe the Homeland office will have adequate safeguards in place. But if you suspect otherwise, I hope you'll inform me."

"I always do, Grey," Oliver answered with a wink.

__________

The squad maintained formation, firing with discipline until one of the flying seekers took damage and veered off. They knocked out the securatrons, then destroyed the Vulture. Only two seekers were left.

"Double wing," the squad leader ordered, extending the left and right flankers while the point dropped back into line. The halfback moved forward in close support and advanced, slowly squeezing the seekers out of maneuvering room. Finally, one seeker gained altitude and tried to swing over the line, but the opposing fire was too accurate and the seeker went down in flames.

"One to go!" the squad leader shouted. "Press the line! Press the line! Cut that bastard off! Now people!"

Keeping their defensive energy shields linked, the squad swung their left flank around, trapping the seeker in the corner. The seeker fired rapidly, draining the energy shields faster than the converters could keep them recharged, but it wasn't enough. A blast burst through the seeker's forward lens into the magazine, causing it to fragment.

"Game and match," Sheppard announced. "Congratulations, Devil Squad, you've got high score. Cougar, you're second. Hellions are third, Eagles fourth. You're going to Atlantic City. Even better, we've intercepted scores from the Mud Donkeys and their best team didn't score as high as our lowest!"

The squads cheered and many went up to Kris, thanking her for their victory. Kris wasn't convinced she deserved the praise. Not that much of it, anyway. But she didn't dampen their enthusiasm by trying to turn it down.

"That was a little much," Kris confided to Sheppard as they returned to the scoring room. "After all, Grey taught me several of those techniques. Not that he wants any credit."

"How long are you going to pretend he's some kind of great warrior?" Sheppard complained. "Everybody knows he's been riding your crest. And that press conference he held! What a boater! It's all about publicity. I bet he disappears at the last minute with some lame excuse."

"Grey wouldn't do that," Kris disagreed.

"Are you sure? Is it a guarantee?"

"Well, no, it's not a guarantee. Training can be rough. Injuries happen. And he does have weird diplomatic stuff to deal with."

"See, you're already making excuses for him and he hasn't even thrown over yet."

"You've probably been doing this for him all along. That's what everybody thinks."

They reached the scoring office, surprised to find a dozen officers of command rank going over the figures.

"Haven't seen this much brass since we signed the peace treaty," Sheppard whispered to Kris.

"Something wrong with their vid-coms?" Kris whispered back, equally uncomfortable with the bevy of admirals and generals.

"Kris, good to see you," General Larson said, noticing them standing in the doorway. Kris and Sheppard saluted, then waited for instructions.

"Over here," Larson summoned, taking them aside. "We're pleased with the work you've done here. Very pleased."

"Thank you, sir," Sheppard replied.

"This is unofficial, but High Command's commissioning the new unit right after the games," Larson revealed. "We're calling it the 104th Space Division until someone comes up with something cleverer. We want you with us. Both of you."

"Why a new division?" Kris asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that," Larson answered. "But it's classified, so keep it to yourself. Commander Sheppard, you're invited to direct our weapons unit. It carries a brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel. If you return to the Navy, you'll come back with command rank. Hell, you could become a rear admiral if this turns out."

"Thank you, sir!" Sheppard responded. "If possible, I'd like Kris assigned to my staff. Her experience is invaluable."

"Sorry, son, that won't be possible," Larson replied. "Kris, I understand you may have shared obligations. No one admires young Grey more than I do, but this is the big leagues. High Command doesn't feel he has the experience to lead a major operation. I hope you understand."

"I understand why High Command may think that," Kris answered.

"Good. If you decide to join these space rangers, you'll come in at full colonel, Operations and Tactics," Larson offered. "You won't be serving on Sheppard's staff because he'll be serving on yours."

"Wow, I didn't expect that," Kris said.

"Think it over, Kris. We need you," Larson encouraged.

General Larson stepped back, offered a salute, and returned to the scoring office.

"That's a wig," Sheppard whispered. "I was hoping to have you serving under me."

"Just how do you mean that, Ricky?" Kris asked.

Sheppard smiled, a glistening twinkle in his eye.

__________

"All packed, Governor. Hopper is standing by," Gott reported.

"Thanks, Simon," Grey acknowledged, turning to shake hands with Peter and Walter. "I'll be returning to Tranquility after the games. Please say goodbye to the folks back in Hope Valley for me."

Peter and Walter agreed and helped roll the equipment cart out to the waiting aircraft. Grey took a last look at the arena, then followed. In the large parking lot, several hundred people were waiting including many reporters.

Grey paused to look at the crowd, then held up three fingers. No one doubted what the gesture meant. Then he boarded the hopper through the side hatch and buckled down for the short flight to the airport.

"Sure you can take three seekers?" Gott asked, taking the seat next to him.

"Yes," Grey replied.

"I'm not a reporter or a fan," Gott continued. "Or a bookmaker. Toward the end there, you held your own against the simulations, but I don't remember you beating them."

"I learned how to beat them. That's more important," Grey responded.

"Kid, you worry me sometimes," Gott grumbled.

"Coordinate with Larson's liaison. Keep our security tight. I'm probably facing more danger from outside the arena than in it."

"We've marked the little puke that Kamar hired to rig the match. We'll neuter the son of a bitch just before show time."

"Make sure Jenny Oliver gets the story," Grey instructed.

"Exclusive and on camera," Gott assured him with an evil smile.

Grey looked out the window as the hopper flew over the roads and towns below them.

"Thanks for your help, Simon. Your support means a lot to me. It always has."

"Keep talking like that and I'm not going to bet on you," Gott warned.

"Then you're a fool," Grey said, glancing over for the enforcer's reaction. Gott appreciated the humor. And suspected Grey was more tired from the hectic weeks of training than he let on. Tired, but confident. Gott wondered at that. No one he knew would challenge three seekers. And no one would think of defeating them. Then Gott smiled.

"What's funny?" Grey inquired.

"I keep forgetting you don't judge yourself by the same rules as we ordinary Earth dwellers."

"A weakness of my upbringing. Maybe I'll mature out of it in time."

"That will be a sad day," Gott lamented.

__________

"Here he comes!" Judith shouted, waving as the hopper flew over the Mohave Spaceport.

Hundreds of students and curiosity seekers formed up on the tarmac, the crowd held back by a line of private security forces. Valerie and Michael quickly rushed from the Ruttan International Terminal while Tey and Roger emerged from their chartered sub-orbital aircraft parked on the edge of the tarmac. When Grey's hopper set down inside the landing circle, a band began to play and balloons were released.

"They're here to wish you good luck," Tey said, running to reach Grey first. "You need to show some appreciation. The last time you left, you took off without saying goodbye to anyone. You've made friends here. You owe them a few words."

"This is big news. All the nets are chattering," Roger added.

"Acknowledged," Grey agreed.

He followed Roger to a makeshift stage where Valerie and several members of her slate were assembled. Grey wasn't happy that the public appearance might be taken for a campaign rally, but so near the election, he guessed Valerie was making every effort to maximize her turnout. As he would do under similar circumstances.

Grey jumped on the stage and went straight to the podium before anyone could attempt an introduction, then waited for the noise to subside.

"Ridiculous humans," Grey announced with great formality. "Thank you for this expression of goodwill. I have enjoyed observing your primitive rituals and participating in your barbaric social activities. Your support holds great meaning for me, worthless as it is. Perhaps one day I shall return. Or maybe not."

"We love you, too, Governor!" Rustodia called out. Grey burst into a smile that caused the crowd to cheer wildly. He tried to continue his speech, but started to laugh instead. He turned to give Valerie a hug and shake Michael's hand, then abandoned the podium with a charismatic jump from the platform, once again holding up three fingers.

"Goodbye, Grey. Good luck," Judith said at the bottom of the steps where many students from her class had assembled.

Grey gave her a kiss on the cheek and let the security officials clear a path to the aircraft where Roger and Tey waited at the hatch. It wasn't until the door closed and they took their seats that private conversation became possible.

"That was pretty funny, Grey," Roger said, still chuckling.

"Better be careful, young man. They're going to think you're almost human if you display a sense of humor," Tey warned.

"There are worse fates," Grey replied, somewhat to her surprise.

The jet took off, gained altitude over the ocean, then turned east and climbed for sub-orbit.

"We'll be in Atlantic City in an hour," Roger reported. "We've got the penthouse at the Harbor Queen and exclusive use of the gym. The Black Sash finals end Saturday night. Your demonstration will be Sunday at two just before the closing ceremonies."

"Why so late?" Grey asked.

"Better time slot, for one. Gives us prime vid coverage through most of the alliance and our broadcasters in Europe," Roger answered. "And there's also going to be a lot of partying after the finals on Saturday. Thousands of kids from all the service branches. They'll tear the town apart and not wake up until Sunday afternoon."

"Roger speaks from experience," Tey confided with a wink.

"There's something else we'd like to talk about, Grey. Something serious," Roger said. "Our wedding is only three weeks after your match. Tey and I want you there. I've also been thinking it's time we fess up the family secret, too."

They could see Grey was unprepared for the request.

"How do you feel about that?" Tey finally asked.

"I was expecting to leave for Tranquility," Grey mentioned. "I've neglected many duties during my absence."

"We'll deal with that issue separately. What about revealing your family relationships?" Tey questioned. "Are you still angry with your grandfather?"

"A wise person has taught me to subjugate such negative emotions," Grey answered, recalling Master Shao's advice. "The decision is not mine to make. Do what you feel is necessary."

"Just so you'll know, Dad feels awful about what happened," Roger said. "He still thinks he did the right thing, but he's sorry you feel betrayed. He's really very fond of you."

Roger and Tey looked at Grey as if they expected a specific response. Grey didn't know what they wanted and wasn't prepared to distract himself with their concerns.

"I need to review my game plan and get some rest," Grey replied. "Can I use one of the recliners in the back?"

"Sure, Grey. We rented the whole plane," Roger said.

Grey pushed out of the seat and disappeared into the rear compartment.

"What do you think?" Roger whispered.

"He's changed," Tey whispered back. "He's struggling to overcome his natural reactions instead of deferring to his instincts."

"That's good, isn't it?" Roger questioned.

"Very good from a socialization standpoint. Beyond that, I'm not so sure. Grey's survival instincts have always been strong. It's his edge. I think it's an edge he still needs. This plan of your father's, has he explained it yet?"

"Not yet. Said he wanted to get together with Grey after the match."

"Whatever James is up to, I hope he knows what he's doing," Tey sighed. "And I hope Grey will at least be willing to listen."

* * * * * *

One chapter combined with the epilogue to go. If you are enjoying this story please support it. Thanks.