A Phoenix from the Ashes

A Phoenix from the Ashes
© D. L. Stroupe
All Rights Reserved

Chapter Five Soren and Sparrow stayed close to Arion until it was time to go. It was Sparrow's idea, not to force him onto the shuttle, but to make him face up to himself if he decided to stay.

He didn't. While he was clearly nervous, bringing the mythra he so often clung to these days, he claimed it was simply that he didn't know what he would say when people started asking him questions. The townspeople, however, proved far more sensitive than the records crew, everyone steering away from the subject when Arion became uncomfortable.

The victory jubilation was enlarged, in honor of Peter, Andrew, Cedric, and three of the villagers who had also died. All stops were pulled, celebrating their release from the shackles of life, freed to return Home to the heavenly Father. Some few wept discreetly, mourning for or with those left behind. One of the dead was a widower father, leaving behind a two-year-old daughter.

Widely known as 'squirrels', such orphans automatically belonged to the village in general, staying at whichever house the squirrel happened to choose that day. Children who didn't understand the drawbacks envied the squirrels their freedom, while the squirrels instinctively reinforced this. This little one was too young yet to understand what had happened, and she seemed to be enjoying the party as much as everyone else. More than some.

As the evening wore on, an enterprising young lady attached herself to Arion, soliciting his participation in the band with subtle force. A young almost-woman, she had dark skin and thick woolen hair. Her black eyes smiled constantly, and her fingers almost as constantly caressed the ocarina she wore on a cord about her neck. Her name was Kateesia.

Arion seemed almost persuaded, following her lead to where the band was playing, but as he stood watching the crowd Soren saw his expression darken. The band finished their song and he suddenly shook his head, smiling to her as he untangled his arm from hers, then disappeared. Soren finally found him sitting in the shuttle by himself.

"Hey buddy. Not ready for an audience you can see?" he asked. Although Arion had sung for the 'humans' on Kinoshi while he was a captive, he had never actually seen them, and, before that, had never been willing to sing for anyone, not even his wingmate.

His smile twitched nervously as he shook his head. He looked down at the mythra, his mouth working to start a sentence without much success. "I thought..." He sighed heavily and frowned.

Soren waited, pained as always by his newly acquired stammering, but determined not to let it show.

"I thought it would be fun. To play again. But..."

"It's more than just stage fright, isn't it? What's wrong?"

"...When I sang before... I had a reason." He looked up, meeting Soren's eyes, but was unable to hold it. "The reason is gone. ...The songs.. won't fit."

Soren sighed. "So just play something nice. It doesn't have to be profound or moving. It doesn't have to be one of yours. You don't have to make such a big deal out of everything. Just kick back and try to enjoy life. Relax a little."

He managed a smile and nodded. "I know. I never was much for an audience though. Having a reason helped."

Soren laughed. "Then it is just stage fright!"

He laughed softly and nodded again. "Yeah, I guess it is. But it's enough," he added, looking up with wide eyes and a grin.

"Fair enough. But try writing something that you think you could sing. Something the people would enjoy. Everyone's gotten used to seeing that mythra. They want to hear it too."

He sighed, losing the smile, and for a moment Soren thought he'd blundered again. Arion looked up though, serious and intent. "Yeah. I'll do that." He laughed then, suddenly embarrassed again. "At least I'll try."

"Do that. You shouldn't waste or hide what you're given. Maybe that's something good that can come out of all this, huh? Don't bury your talents, right?"

Arion forced a smile. "Right."

The next day Soren went to see the Ealdred and explained Arion's proposal, trying to soften the distrust such a request implied. The Ealdred frowned, saying nothing. "One is already dead," he admitted slowly, "and we haven't questioned the other. I suppose we could arrange something like that for you. Do you think your word will satisfy him?"

"If I can get a clear answer from the venat. You say you haven't been questioning it. May I ask what you are doing?"

Ealdred Tovi looked at him directly, his eyes harsh and hard. "We've been testing Arion's brotik and the venat's ability to withstand electrical shock."

Soren's eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows lifting. "And?"

"It seems to have remarkable stamina, but it does have limits. And once those limits have been reached, stopping doesn't seem to bring any relief, as it would for a human. It did recover, but very slowly. Does Arion seem like he might be open to discussing this?"

He hesitated. Arion was, in fact, open to discussing any of it, but the thought that the Ealdred's endeavors would be viewed as torture was daunting. He didn't like it himself, but clearly the Ealdred didn't either. The more they could learn from Arion... "I'll ask him about it."

Arion was appalled and furious. "They just kept hitting him with electricity until he was in obvious pain? They didn't even bother to ask him if he could feel it?"

"Apparently not," Soren answered stiffly. He had little information and no defense. "It was the Ealdred's impression that electricity has no effect on them, so they wanted to see how high a level it could shrug off."

Arion growled with impotent anger, turning away. "All he had to do was ask. Even I could have told him... It's not that they don't feel it. They store it." He was calming some now, much to Soren's relief, giving the information the Ealdred had wanted though he was clearly depressed. He sighed heavily and asked, "Have you held onto a stock fence, just to prove you could?"

"Stock fence?"

"Yeah," he answered, looking up. "No," he said, answering his own question. "An electric fence has low voltage, so the livestock feels it but isn't hurt by it. Still, it's enough that the animals avoid it, and the fence keeps them in even if it's flimsy because the animals don't want to touch it.

"When I was a kid, we had stock fences, and my friends.. we'd dare each other to hold onto the wire, just to prove we could." He smiled slightly, but it faded into grimness. "Anyway, that's what it's like for a venator. Only they have this organ that stores it for them."

"Yeah, you mentioned that in quarantine."

"Right," he agreed, sounding bitter. "I guess I should've said more. It's not that the venators don't feel anything, it's that the organ lets out a little at a time, trickle-feeding the electricity to the whole body so that it dissipates slowly.

"What the Ealdred did was dump so much into him that even the trickle was too much. When he stopped dumping electricity into him, it didn't do the venator any good because his body was still trying to get rid of what it had.

"That numb-sting feeling you get in your hand when you hold onto a stock fence is what a venator feels all over his body. The more the organ has to get rid of, the stronger the feeling is, and the longer it takes to get rid of it. …He didn't have to do that. He could have asked me. They won't keep up with that, will they?"

Soren swallowed. "I don't think so. The Ealdred seemed pretty uncomfortable about the whole thing. He stopped when it started to hurt. He didn't realize that stopping wouldn't help. He's not vicious you know."

Arion grimaced, his face contorted between a sneer and dismal understanding. "I used to know that, but I'm not so sure anymore. Not because of this...” He sighed and shook his head. "It's a lot harder to accept when you know first hand what it's like. I know he tries to be as reasonable as he can. I know he feels that forcing information is necessary. I just can't believe it's true anymore."

"What about what those venats did you?" Soren demanded irritably. "Was that reasonable?"

Arion took the attack without flinching. "No." He paused, searching for words, then gave it up. "No. It wasn't. And neither is what we do."

Soren hesitated, disarmed. "Yeah, well. I have to get back to detention anyway. I'll tell them what you said, and see what I can find out for you." He turned for the door.

"Soren?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He relaxed slightly and allowed himself to smile a little. "Yeah. See you later." He headed for detention, relieved to be done with the conversation. He had known it would be uncomfortable, but he was discouraged just the same. They were both trying, but the rift remained.

He met AJ in the hallway, also on his way to detention. "Are you the translator?"

"Eeyup," AJ answered without enthusiasm. "And you?"

He shrugged. "I have a question for it." They had reached the security check, and Chris was examining their passes, so AJ didn't pursue Soren's involvement. He'd find out soon enough anyway.

The security passes were a minor inconvenience - they simply ensured that someone didn't come waltzing through to peer at the captive right when someone else was in the process of handling it. Fewer mistakes that way, and fewer injuries.

The venators were highly intelligent, fierce fighters, yet most were prone to passivity once captured. Some, of course, would fight to the death, but most tended to surrender when escape became impossible. Odd, considering they couldn't hope for anything but the poles, or questioning and execution.

Which in turn made them hard to question; they knew they had nothing to gain by cooperating. The drug was yet to be found that could give reliably worthwhile results. Mostly they either maintained focus despite the drug, or they simply went to sleep.

As they entered, the venator looked up at them with alarm from its curled position on the cot. AJ advanced to the bars. "Adomaia," he demanded sternly. The venat stared at him silently.

"AJ," Soren asked softly from the Fadey's right, "can I just ask my question and get out of here?"

AJ looked at him, then smiled indulgently. "I'm here to assist you," he said casually. "Right now I'm just trying to get its name. Get it to talk. Start simple, then go on to the things that matter."

He turned back to the venat. "Adomaia." Silence. AJ lifted the delicate looking dart gun and deftly shot the venat with a dart before either it nor Soren knew what he was doing. "Give the dart a minute to work, Soren, and I'll have it in a better position for questioning."

"But..."

AJ looked at him, irritated. "Look Soren," he said stiffly, "I know your reputation. You'd rather see it dead than questioned. You like things swift and clean, and I'm being as swift and clean about this as I can, but some things have to be, and pussyfooting only makes it worse. Let me do my job, and you can ask your questions."

Soren nodded once, silent, and looked at the venat. It had pulled the dart out of its thigh, holding the dart in one hand and covering the spot on its thigh with the other. Its eyes were wide and panicked, its breathing fast and shallow.

Rising from the cot, it dropped the dart and staggered to one end of the cell as if looking for a way out. Leaning against the wall it paused, looking at them, at the walls... Soren watched, Arion's protests haunting and accusing.

It sagged, its eyes closing and Soren was certain that the tranquilizer was taking effect, but it did not fall. A soft yet high pitched whine filled the cell, crawling up Soren's spine with a chilling ache. Then, without warning, it dashed across the cell with an amazing burst of speed, running headlong into the wall. It crumpled into a heap, unconscious.

AJ cursed softly, but waited the obligatory time for the dart to take effect, then opened the cage. "Sorry Soren. It's dead. Maybe next time."

"Thanks anyway," he answered mechanically, fervently hoping Arion would abandon the idea. He had no interest in a next time. He reported to the Ealdred, then returned to his quarters to wait for Arion. "I'm sorry," he said as Arion walked through the door. "It killed itself. I never got to ask it anything."

Arion nodded. "Class went pretty well today," he said, shrugging off his shirt. "I though it would be awkward, like gym, but it wasn't. Liang is very relaxed, and he's more interested in his class than in me. In the gym, they kept kidding me about how I couldn't have anything to teach them since it hadn't done me any good on Kinoshi. They're a good bunch of guys, but it's hard to laugh at some of their jokes."

Soren smiled, relieved and grateful that Arion hadn't pressed. "Liang's all business, huh?"

"No, not really. He's the one who taught me, so it's kind of fun being able to teach him. Sort of turn the tables, and put him on the spot. He knows I'm imitating him, but he doesn't mind. In his class though, it's straight language. The venators themselves don't enter into it much. I guess some stuff will be a little odd though, trying to get perspectives across..." He shrugged. "There's still a lot I don't know either."

The days began passing more smoothly for Soren, much to his relief. Mark was released for duty by the Medicat, and Soren's own familiar routine was re-established. But it was only a matter of time before the Gadamista would inevitably loose a battle, and the loss came very hard. It was a miserable evening.

By obligation and tradition, the Gadamis joined the village, just as they did after a victory, that they might comfort one another. It was not so difficult to celebrate the release of one or two people, as when Peter had died, but the village had lost around thirty today. All four Cedrychads who had crashed had been taken, which meant they had still been alive, because the venators did not take dead bodies.

People were reluctant to celebrate. How could they celebrate someone's release from the shackles of life, knowing the venators might keep them alive, doing who knew what? In addition, four of the villagers taken had been pregnant women, and no one was able to take any comfort at all in the thought that these four would surely be kept alive.

The records showed very clearly the general mood of the people. It was hard enough to celebrate a loved one's release while mourning the loss, but to mourn without celebrating was a desperate affair.

One young man, whose pregnant wife had been taken, said it plainly. "I am happy for Arion that he made it home, but the rest of us were better off in ignorance. How can I face life, knowing that my wife… Knowing my baby..." He broke down, weeping in his hands.

The woman would be kept alive at least long enough to bear her child. The baby would then be taken and raised by the venats, raised to be dumb and docile, deprived of speech, a pet and a slave. A damat.

Numbness became a salve that was readily applied to a wound no one knew how to heal. People went through the motions of necessity, and life went on. Drills filled Soren’s time, and watches passed uneventfully as the venators seemed to be doing all of their hunting in sectors covered by the other two Hammerstars.

Normally he would have been quartered with Mark, but he remained with Arion and Sparrow. When the Ealdred offered him the opportunity to attend Arion's gym class, he guiltily confessed to the Ealdred that he was relieved to have a daily respite, and begged off.

Under the circumstances, and because of the close-knit nature of the wing pairs, the Ealdred brought Mark into his confidence, explaining the situation in its entirety. This too proved to be a great comfort.

Soren stood in the lounge with Mark, waiting for the alarm that might not sound. Its long silence simultaneously made one feel that it wouldn't, and that it must. "How does Arion seem to be taking his new position?" asked Mark.

"Depends which position you're talking about. He likes communications very well, but feels awkward in the gym." He shook his head. "You'd think he'd welcome the chance to give us an edge, but he hates teaching the defense class."

"Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I guess I'm not really being fair. It's just you're the only one I can really vent this on. I don't think Arion actually minds teaching the defense class, but you know the kind of cracks they make. And he can't say anything. Can't agree, can't laugh, feels like a hypocrite for keeping his mouth shut. He's waiting for them to start picking up on it and asking questions. He's very good at sinking into himself and shutting out creation, but he's terrified of questions."

Mark laughed softly. "With good reason. He may be uncomfortable now, but if everyone knew he'd gone soft on venats, he'd really have a time. I don't know what they'd do, but it wouldn't ride."

"I know. So does he." Soren started as the alarm sounded, his adrenaline flowing.

The fight was quick and decisive, three of the escort fighters shot down and the carrier not even able to land. The Cedrychads and the Fadeydushka came together in the lounge, clasping hands and shoulders, excitedly commenting on the success of the rout, including the capture of one of the pilots that had been downed.

Soren lingered as they slowly broke apart, heading for their quarters to shower. Mark looked at him and smiled. "You're stalling."

He looked up and laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"I thought you said he took it well last time."

He nodded, losing his smile. "Better than I did. Guess I should just go," he said abruptly, not wanting to discuss it.

"Right. See you later."

"Bye." He walked back to his quarters, and in.

Arion looked up from his pocket pal and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey. Good book?"

He shrugged. "Not very. I was about to give up on it. ...You've been flying."

Soren nodded. "Full rout. The carrier never even landed."

He smiled slightly. "Good."

He hesitated, uncomfortable, then sighed heavily. "Three of the escort were shot down. One's on its way to detention. I'm sorry, I just felt like if I didn't say it, I'd be hiding it." Which was exactly what he wanted to do, afraid Arion would again ask him to question it for him.

He nodded, trying for a smile. "I uh... Still too soon.. probably."

"Yeah. Prob'ly. Listen, I've got to shower. You want to come down with us again?"

"Yeah."

This time Arion left his mythra behind, and he seemed to enjoy himself more. Soren sat with Sparrow and Arion, watching a style of dancing none of them knew. Arion excused himself and wandered off. "Sparrow," said Soren softly.

"Yes?"

"Doesn't it bother you, believing Arion and..."

He snorted softly. "Sure. Of course. Mostly it bothers me seeing him bullied out of doing anything about it."

Soren tensed, startled. "What am I supposed to do? Lie to him? Pretend I'm not a Cedrychad?"

"Ho, down boy," said Sparrow, turning to him fully, frowning. "I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about the Ealdred. You and Arion are both doing the best you can. We don't hold anything against you Soren, so I wish you'd stop being so defensive. But I think Arion was right when he said God wanted him to warn people, and it bothers me to see the Ealdred stopping him."

"Well, don't get me wrong, but if you really feel that way, why don't you start telling people? God's rules are more important than people's rules, right?"

"Because God didn't send me, He sent Arion. And right now Arion is still too unsure of himself. He's not ready to fly in the face of the Ealdred. The time will come if it's meant to. That's one thing I've learned better than anything else. If it's important, God doesn't let go."

"Fair enough. I just kind of wondered. What will you do if Arion changes his mind? What if he decides the Ealdred's right?"

He smiled, amused. "I'll deal with that when and if it happens. I don't look for problems, Soren. You know that. I have plenty enough already in existence."

He laughed. "Fair enough. I have to learn that trick."

Sparrow looked at him intently. "How about you? Do you feel better about Peter? More sure of yourself?"

He nodded, realizing - though he wasn't sure how - that Sparrow was not trying to corner him, but rather simply and honestly concerned. "Yeah. More sure about everything." He stared out into the frolicking dancers. "Strange how things work sometimes... If Peter hadn't died I wouldn't have had to think about it. I could've pretended it didn't happen. As ugly as it feels to think his death is my fault, I owe it to him to be really sure about how I feel. And I am sure."

"That's good. It should help you both, you and Arion, to know where you both stand."

He sighed. "Doesn't seem like it has so far."

And yet, as the next few days passed, they were more relaxed with each other. Soren began to wonder if maybe Arion really was beginning to doubt his own claims. Certainly he seemed less concerned about them and rarely mentioned the topic.

Another attack came, and Soren watched the record in progress with Arion. They were both off duty, but Sparrow, as a Fadeydushka, would be flying immediately after the battle. "How does Sparrow fly, with what he believes?" asked Soren quietly.

"He doesn't shoot," answered Arion readily, without inflection. Apparently they'd discussed it before.

"But what if he has to?"

"He won't."

"But he'll have to sooner or later," he insisted softly, confused. Arion was staring straight at the screen, avoiding his eyes.

"He won't," he repeated, his concern and irritation finally beginning to sound in his voice. He sighed then and looked at Soren. "If he has to protect someone on the ground, he'll do so by drawing fire. The Valerian is a much bigger threat than anything on the ground, so that much is easy. His main job is to go down and assist the injured. That's what he does."

"But he's supposed to help track down any venats from the carrier."

"He will. He has. He just doesn't shoot."

"He's going to get killed that way," said Soren, frustrated. Arion's eyes dropped. "And what if someone else gets killed because he won't shoot?" he persisted, thinking of Peter. "If he won't do it, then someone else has to do it for him. He's going to get someone killed, thinking he'll be there for them and he isn't."

He left abruptly, not wanting to vent his anger on Arion. At least Arion knew better than to pretend. The fact that he respected Sparrow only made it worse.

His step faltered and he stopped, realizing suddenly that he was heading for the Ealdred's station. Did he really plan to tell the Ealdred what Sparrow was doing?

Yes, he decided grimly, he would. Sparrow was endangering other lives, and he couldn't be allowed. At the station, however, he found the Ealdred much too involved with the current attack to give him an audience. "When things settle down," he told the aid, "would you please tell him that I'm waiting to speak to him?"

"I will, but if it's really important, I'm sure I could get one of the councilors for you."

"Thanks, but I need the Ealdred." The aid nodded and he turned away to find a quiet place to think. Just as well he should cool his heels and think this through. He was reacting again, instead of making decisions.

No, he corrected himself, he had made a decision, but it was hasty. When the Ealdred finally gave him audience, he found that it hadn’t changed.

"What's troubling you Soren?" asked the Ealdred, clearly tired but fully attentive.

He sighed, still not liking what he had to do. "It's Sparrow sir. Arion just told me that he has no intention of utilizing his weapons."

Ealdred Tovi nodded. "Yes. I'm aware of it."

He gaped at him, stunned. "You are? And you let him fly? Why?"

He smiled briefly. "Sometimes even an Ealdred must trust in God. Sparrow is exceptional, not as a pilot, but as a medic. You know this as well as I do. He has never been proficient with his weapons, and the others in his unit know it. If he has ceased to use them altogether, it is no great loss. I understand your concern, and I deeply appreciate your candor. You are concerned about people depending on him."

He nodded. "Yes sir. But I'm also concerned for Sparrow. Arion said he would draw fire rather than shoot. He'll get himself killed."

The Ealdred sighed and nodded. "This is why I must trust in God to protect him during this time. I can't pull people out of the open every time they get confused. We'd have no one left to fly if I did that. The only way for him to resolve this is to deal with it. I have discussed this with both of them. If he dies, it is God's choice. If he is injured, perhaps he will learn."

"But what about the rest of his unit? He may not be a great shot, but what he won't do, someone else has to. They may get killed trying to do it for him, or to protect him when he shouldn't need it."

"If it comes to that, he may well be forced to change his mind. This would be good."

"And if he doesn't?" he demanded, growing angry.

The Ealdred held his gaze, reminding him he was pushing his limits. "Our job is not an easy one Soren. Does it really surprise you so much to find that people sometimes have doubts? I have already had reports from Sparrow's unit, noting his quiet flight. They know, Soren. They don't know why, but they know. It is sufficient."

He looked away. "Yes sir." He wanted to leave now, but had not been dismissed.

"The rift between you seems to be growing," he observed quietly. "Is it time to change your quarters?"

He looked up, startled, frowning. It was not the suggestion that troubled him, but that the observation had been made. "As you say sir," he answered thickly, "it's growing. It isn't healing. My job was to keep you informed, but you obviously know more than I do."

He frowned, irritated. "Your input still has value," he said impatiently. "Do you expect I will report to Arion and Sparrow on our discussion here?"

He backed down quickly, lowering his hackles. Not only did he expect nothing of the kind, he recognized fully the Ealdred's reprimand. "I'm sorry sir. It's not that you didn't tell me. It's that they didn't."

"But you said Arion told you."

He looked up, startled, then sighed. "Yes sir, but only because I asked. It's not the same. I think it's time I started bunking with my wingmate, where I belong."

"Mark will be glad of the company. You may go and move your things now."

"Yes sir." He walked out, feeling miserable. He had no desire to return to the room for his things, knowing Arion at least would be there. Sparrow would be along soon enough as well, depending on how the fight had gone. He grimaced suddenly, wondering if Sparrow would pick up on his betrayal like so many other things. He quickened his pace, suddenly glad to be getting out and determined to get the process over with as quickly as possible.

"Hey," said Arion quietly, looking up from his pocket pal as he came in with a box. "I've been assigned to quarter with Mark," he answered shortly, emptying a drawer directly into the box.

"You talked to the Ealdred." It was a statement, not an accusation. Not even a question.

"That's right," he agreed in clipped tones. "I won't try to hide it." He stopped and looked at Arion, silently accusing. Arion looked away and he turned back to his box.

"If the Ealdred had grounded him, would you be any less angry?" Arion asked softly.

"No," he said vehemently, turning again. "We've been disagreeing since you got back, but if you can't be open with me any more there's no point in my being here."

Arion nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Too late." He turned and pulled out his other drawer, dumping the contents unceremoniously into the box. Arion didn't answer and he finished his packing, setting his more fragile items on top of the rest and covering them gently with the clothes on hangers. He looked at Arion, but he was intent on his pocket pal, hiding. He left.

He knocked on Mark's door and it opened almost instantly. "Hey. Ealdred said you were coming."

"What else did he say?" he asked coolly, setting his box on the floor by the closet.

"Nothing."

He nodded and began hanging his uniforms, pausing to brush some lint from one of his cloaks. Found to be highly useful, he loved them for their elegance. He frowned, remembering how he and Arion had shared that fondness. Chivalry was dead, but many young men still longed for it. It was hard to protect those who could fight as well as you, so they made up for it by excessive bravado and dashing displays. The cloaks were great for that...

He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. "It's getting worse instead of better," he said slowly. "Even Sparrow..."

"Are you jealous?" asked Mark.

He would have thought he was teasing, but his tone was sincere and it wasn't his style for such a moment. He shook his head. "No. I don't mind not being needed. To be perfectly honest, it's a relief. But I feel like I'm running out on him. He's all messed up in the head, and Sparrow's right there egging him on."

"Such as?"

He sighed. "Such as, Sparrow's out there pretending to be a Fadey, but he won't use his weapons. He's going to get someone killed, and the Ealdred won't do anything about it. He already knew. They wouldn't tell me, but they talked to him about it."

"Don't get mad Soren, but I think you are jealous."

He looked up at him, frowning but considering. He gave a soft laugh and shook his head again. "No. Just insulted." He looked down and shook his head once more. "The Ealdred not only didn't care, he already knew."

"Did he say why? I mean, why doesn't he care?"

"Well, to be fair, I shouldn't say he doesn't care. He just won't do anything about it. Said Sparrow's not much of a shot anyway, but he's a fantastic medic. That's true enough. The man's gifted. I've seen him. Ealdred said that the rest of his unit already knows, so he's no threat to them."

"They know? What about all the secrecy?"

He shook his head. "They know he's not using his weapons. They don't know why."

He gave a short laugh. "If someone in my unit wasn't pulling his weight, I'd sure want to know why."

Soren smiled at him. "How many times have you talked to Sparrow?"

"A few. Why?"

"Ever argued with him?"

"No."

"Try not to. You're apt to lose. He'll never raise his voice to you, but you'll come away feeling like a heel for doubting him."

"Sounds like a lot of respect for someone you're supposed to be mad at. Have you talked to him about this yet?"

He laughed at his hands. "No, and I don't want to. And you're right, I have major respect for the man. That's half of what makes me so mad. I understand Arion being confused, but Sparrow's got no excuse, if I can say it that way. He's got more together than any of us, and he's jumping off the deep end with Arion."

"Maybe he's just playing along so Arion won't be so alone. Giving him a chance to think everything through."

"That’s not his style. And not with him flying defenseless. Not with his whole unit noticing, and the Ealdred besides."

They both looked at each other as someone knocked on the door. Mark reached over and opened it, gesturing entry to Sparrow. "Speak of the devil."

Sparrow smiled slightly, and turned to Soren, who looked away. "I understand you being angry with me Soren," he said quietly, "but why are you taking it out on Arion?"

He glanced at Mark. "Maybe I'm angry with him too."

"Why?"

"Just petty I guess," he said nastily, looking up at him. "I don't like being the last to know what's going on."

"You've given every impression of not wanting to know."

He looked at Mark again and suppressed a smile. "My fault. So fine, it's my fault. You win. Congratulations."

Sparrow stared back silently until he dropped his eyes. "You've dealt with it your way, I've dealt with it my way," he said, very softly. "My unit knows what I'm doing. No one's going to get hurt, unless it's me. I can accept that even if you can't." He left.

Soren looked at Mark, who smiled at him, amused. "You'd be able to argue with him better if you weren't so awed by him."

He gave a short laugh. "Yeah, maybe. He just has this annoying habit of being right. I did take it out on Arion." He sighed. "And Arion has a very annoying habit of letting me." He looked at the beds, but both were freshly made "Which is yours?"

"This one."

"Fine. I think I'll hide from myself for awhile. I’m beat." He threw himself down on the other bed and pulled the pillow over his head.