Born of a belt of low pressure circling the Arrkarharan world and known as the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone, the mere presence of yet another storm was insignificant within a region known for them.

This narrow belt, where the southern hemisphere and northern hemisphere trade winds merge, continually forced air westward, through a region with warm air close to the surface, and colder air aloft.

Stirred by the winds and fed by water temperatures in excess of 27°C, the lighter warm air rose, often rapidly, wringing out humidity as the air cooled. Severe thunderstorms were a daily fact of life in the ITCZ from the sustained conditions. Occasionally, the storms clustered.

On rare occasions, perhaps five to ten times a year, a wave or cluster of stormy weather emerging from the coast begins circulating around a common centre, creating a lower area of pressure within this centre.

If wind shear was light – the difference in wind speeds from lower altitude to higher altitude – and the storm cluster remained over warm water, it would grow rapidly, progressing through tropical storm to hurricane phase.

Such a cluster system departed the African coast on the day the team rescued Jahrae, the strong wave of pressure moving into an area of light shear, where water temperatures approached 32°C.

Forecasters warned shipping interests to avoid the area, predicting rapid development of tropical storm force winds, or wind speeds between 63 kph and 117 kph, in the area just to the south and west of the Cape Verde Islands.

Meteorologists aboard AISV llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli watched with growing interest, studying the Arrkarharan storm and contrasting it with historical and well-researched storm development on Arrhazon, extrapolating, analysing, and predicting.

By the end of the third day off-coast, the storm reached Category 2 on the Saffir-Simpson 1-5 scale, receiving the name ‘Athena’ as its identifier. Moving west at 19 kph, it continued to strengthen, reaching close to category 4.

Encountering some shear on the fifth day, the storm weakened back to minimal hurricane strength, while picking up forward speed. By the end of its first week of existence, long-range forecasts predicted the storm would turn northwestward, north, and finally northeast, heading safely out to sea, away from the United States mainland.

Hlacaela Jorsahn, chief research meteorologist aboard the AISV, differed from Arrkarharan prognosticators, predicting a continued westward path for the storm, headlong into optimal conditions in the Caribbean. Beyond, its destination five days out was coastal Louisiana.

Jahrae brought this information to the President, but US forecasters disagreed with the Arrhazonan assessment, citing a lack of credibility due to their unfamiliarity with the Arrkarharan world.

Knowing she would not prevail, Jahrae bit her lip and disengaged from the advocacy, hoping that the United States forecasters would begin to see the error in their reasoning.

Hlacaela provided much of her data to the US researchers, and while they found it interesting to study the different modelling, they continued to downplay its predictive accuracy.

Jahrae sat with llhaesa at their lake home, enjoying a nice summer’s day, reading on their back deck. While llhaesa read fiction, Jahrae studied the information from disparate forecasters sharing their predictions on the atmospheric enigma named Athena.

“’Essa, you are the science whiz in the family, would you mind reviewing these two reports and render your opinion? I feel queasy over this, given the potential for disaster if the Arrkarharan forecasters are wrong.”

“Sure, I’ll look at it, but it might take a while to study in detail.”

Jahrae reached across the short wrought iron table between their lounge chairs, passing the electronic reader off to llhaesa, who jumped right in to review.

Remaining quiet while llhaesa studied, Jahrae disappeared inside, returning with two blue margaritas on the rocks, the wide brimmed glasses ringed with a white jagged edge of margarita salt.

“Ooh, thank you,” llhaesa graciously accepted the offering, while ready to deliver a quip. “Remind me to put in a good word for you with the staffing agency. You do good work.”

Jahrae stuck out her tongue at her partner, although she could not hide the smile that reformed after her tongue withdrew.

“Feeling playful now, are you? Have you finished reading the information?” Jahrae inquired.

“Yes, I did, J’har, and I must admit I am troubled. The Arrkarharan meteorologists do not have as much detailed information, and their predictions on steering currents are off significantly.

As a controlling evaluative, I went back and checked AISV predictions for the region since its arrival, comparing that information to actual results. The rate of accuracy is excellent.

I do not have that information for Arrkarharan predictions for the same time frame and location, but given what I know of the state of their technology, research, and results, it is nowhere near as accurate.

In my opinion, the United States would be wise to heed the AISV predictions.”

“Would you mind putting that into an email for Alicia?”

“I surely will. Do you wish to send it under your cover, or directly from me?”

“Send it along under your name; it matters not who sends the information.”

“J’har, if Alicia fails to heed the warning, this could prove a huge disaster in the making.

You saw the storm path, and while that is the major element, there are other events aligning that make it a potential calamity.

First is the location – just west of New Orleans, putting the northeast quadrant right over the city. The second issue is the time of landfall, predicted to be on the approach to high tide. Third, astronomical conditions make that time the highest natural tide within a six-month window.

Adding those tidal highs with 265 kph winds and low pressure and storm surge, the combination will produce high water the levies protecting the city cannot withstand. It isn’t even close.

I have a bad feeling about this, and this government has five days to get it right.”

“Alicia asked if we had capability to modify the weather,” Jahrae shared, knowing what llhaesa thought of this approach.

“Hurricanes exist for a reason. They take latent heat and dissipate it into the atmosphere. People messing with a hurricane engine, using artificial means to preclude that exchange without evacuation of the latent heat through other technology, is a recipe for long-term disaster.

There are natural conditions that prevent hurricane formation. These conditions spread the heat globally. Absent that natural alternative, with the water left to store more heat energy, nature will simply assemble a bigger storm, like a boiling pot given yet more heat.

In addition, it would begin seriously affecting sea life as the warmer water lost oxygen content.

I assume you told Alicia we did this at one time, and learned a valuable lesson that nature is not something to trifle with, unless we account for all down-event consequences.”

“I knew you would say that, and of course, we agree. Yet to those here, who know not the repercussions, it looks tempting, ‘essa.”

Llhaesa looked down at the electronic reader still in her hands, which was open to her secure Arrhazonan email account. “I have a response from Alicia already; that was quick.”

“What does she say?”

“I’ll read it to you.

‘Thank you for sharing your analysis and concerns. You know I value your judgement, as well as your high skills in so many things, including science.

Yet I walk a fine line here. If I go with what you say, the entire government forecasting team will be furious with me.

If they prove right, they would make this a huge issue, that I trusted you ahead of them. If you prove right, countless numbers of people will die.

In the end, the fact that you point out with detail the flaws in their logic, the information that is missing from their calculations of path and intensity, leads me to believe yours is the stronger viewpoint.

FEMA tells me we need three days to evacuate the area. That buys me just a little time to work and overcome objections within our government.

I may need your assistance, along with Jahrae and that teen dynamo of yours. Hang tight, I will be back to you tomorrow.’

Thoughts, J’har?”

“It sounds like we make headway. I knew you could sway her; you could do the science on a level far beyond me.”

“Yes, but you have your strengths, my dear.

I have to laugh reading her reference to Addison, such an impression that one makes.”

“Indeed, that is especially true of the other person out with her sailing with her today.”

“Yes, well, she is impressed with Addie, and Addie is impressed with her. I know two other people like that, J’har.”

“Yes; Ronnie and Elsrensia.”

“Besides them.”

“My parents, Jesn and Chsen, or M’traliel and Khahishra?”

“Nope; try again.”

“I give up.”

“Ooh, none for you tonight, no, no, no.” llhaesa teased, wagging an index finger at her wife.

Jahrae jumped off her lounge chair and pounced square upon her wife’s lap. Llhaesa called out “oomph!” as Jahrae landed. Before she could say anything, Jahrae wrapped her arms around llhaesa, batting her eyelashes suggestively.

“None for me, tonight; really?” she asked.

“Make that tomorrow night.”

“Suppose I sit on your lap tomorrow and bat my eyelashes at you one more time; what then?”

“I will move it back another day. Meanwhile, my wifely eye candy, I see our young sailors returning to homeport. Perhaps you should consider prim and proper behaviour in front of two impressionable and receptive young minds.”

“Is this the same person who said we would never again question Addie being an adult?”

“Um, yes… I guess that argument is no longer useful. How about this…you’re squishing me!”

“Perhaps I should bounce a bit.” Jahrae wiggled and gyrated about as llhaesa audibly exaggerated the impact. “Ah-aah-aah-aah-aah-aah,” llhaesa called out in a continual, singsong fashion.

“I will remember this, J’har; plan on finding me in your lap, soon.”

“Promises, promises, ‘essa. I hope that will be tonight.”

Addison and Jahlaera walked across the lawn and up onto the deck, approaching the playful couple. Both were clad in two-piece bathing suits after having spent several hours on the lake.

“Saved by Addie! Hello, dear daughter,” llhaesa called out in greeting.

“How have I saved you, mum ‘essa?” Addie wondered.

“Your mum J’har sits here trying to seduce me. You are here to rescue me from my fate, are you not?”

“Um, no, not so much; we are here as we are done sailing and we wished to nap a bit.”

“No fair! Please help your mum out!”

“All right, I’ll help,” promised Addie, promptly sitting upon Jahrae’s lap – while she was still on llhaesa.

Jahrae laughed at Addie’s unexpected ploy, even though as with llhaesa, Addie was taller and heavier.

Addie bounced back off, giving Jahrae a high five as she returned to standing. “What have you parental units been doing, aside from lazing around in the sun and shade?”

Jahrae explained their concern over the hurricane, the concern transferred to Jahlaera as she listened.

“Jahrae, I am tasked to meteorology on the AISV, although not that weather system. I have seen their projections, read them out of curiosity, and Hlacaela is peerless in tropical cyclone research. This world ignores her at its peril.”

“Do you think President Ellenwood will act, mum?” Addie wondered.

“I am optimistic. I just hope the weather service will understand what we are saying and not let ego get in the way.

Addie, we may need to act in the coming days. There are elderly people that cannot get out. I intend to ask Alicia if she will permit us to assist.”

“How do you mean, mum?”

“We have 17 craft like Chekresu. While we can only carry a dozen to fifteen people per vehicle, we can get in and out quickly, in minutes. I intend to ask if we can use all 17 to move people.”

“And each of those craft has another smaller one like Baby Bay; those can carry 7. Mum, I can pilot one of those, so too Jahlaera.”

“I may well put both of you to work flying those small crafts. You both are part of the team. If Alicia gives approval, I will order the craft down here to assist.”

“What about animals?” Addie wondered, this an important issue for her.

“Animals come out, Addie. We aren’t leaving dogs and kitties behind to die.”

Addison smiled, but then she knew Jahrae would likely take this stand. Theirs was a family that loved animals.

“By the way, where is Pegasus?” Jahrae wondered.

“He is still sleeping on the boat, I didn’t wish to disturb him; he looked so cute.”

“Addie, go down and get him, please. I know he can come off the boat on his own, but I prefer to know he is all right,” llhaesa requested.

Addison saw llhaesa’s point and returned to Musical Diplomat to retrieve their Newfoundland, who as Addie suspected, slept happily in the boat’s cubby.

Walking back to the home, her thoughts returned to the animals that might face the brunt of the coming storm, and she silently prayed for them to find save haven.

Addison prayed every day for the people, for the animals, and for the right decision.

Alicia’s two-day window ended with her having to make a call. At that point, the government’s team conceded the conditions shifted, taking the storm further west than anticipated.

This realignment followed the Arrhazonan predicted model perfectly, yet the government team stubbornly persisted in claiming the Arrhazonan methodology faulty, that the storm would turn northeast.

What they failed to give much weight to was the Arrhazonan team’s similar prediction of a northeast turn – except their model had this turn after landfall, too late to save the city.

The President made the call, and she accepted the Arrhazonan model as the one she would heed, ordering the evacuation of New Orleans with three days to go. She ordered prices frozen within five hundred miles of New Orleans, this to prevent price gouging and profiteering.

Alicia ordered the US Army to oversee the mandatory evacuation, and she consented to Arrhazonan involvement in the effort, allowing Jahrae to commit the full complement of craft to the task.

A curfew went into effect that first night, covering the entire evacuation zone, excepting for departing evacuees. Advanced Arrhazonan technology helped guide the various evacuation teams to those resisting leaving, who planned to ride out the storm.

There were reports of refusals to bring pets, but a second order went out from the President, clearly stating all pets were to come out with their owners.

By the end of day two, the city and surrounding areas were clear of people. Government forecasters conceded the Arrhazonan model was in fact flawless to that point, providing accuracy to over 99%, over the life of the storm, now almost two weeks.

Now located in the southern Gulf of Mexico, Athena moved through an eyewall cycling, with a second eyewall forming while the first dissipated. This temporarily weakened the storm, but it was part of the predictive analysis. The timing was horribly wrong, allowing the storm time to shed a weakening eyewall system and replace it with a new and stronger one.

As if guided, the storm moved through the Caribbean, missing the island of Jamaica, passing to its south. It moved through and past the Yucatán Strait without striking Cuba or Mexico, thus maintaining its strength as it turned toward the north-northwest.

Athena moved forward at 24 kph, and with 575 kilometres to landfall, the storm was right on predicted path and time.

AISV llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli began feeding live data from the storm, eliminating the need for risky hurricane hunter flights. Over the next six hours, again as predicted, the storm moved closer to the 265 kph winds initially predicted.

When the debate over which forecast to believe raged, Third Gulf Oil & Gas chose to go with the Arrkarharan information, and in a matter of a major management communications breakdown, as well as a matter for future investigation, those in charge did not realise until too late that their crew on TGOG-72 Platform failed to evacuate.

No one passed word to the right channels on acceptance of the Arrhazonan predictive model. A crew of 212 were on the platform, directly in the path of the northeast quadrant of the storm – its strongest field.

Jahrae, llhaesa, Addie, and Serry watched news of the approaching storm, their screen split between Arrkarharan and Arrhazonan feeds. As they sat engrossed, Jahrae’s mobile rang off, the screen identifying the caller as Alicia Ellenwood, President.

“Hello, Alicia,” Jahrae called out in greeting.

“I am sorry to disturb you, J’har, but some fucking arse hole moron for TGOG failed to see to it their crew on a particular oil rig platform were evacuated. There are over 200 on there, directly in the path of the northeast quadrant.”

“You sound quite happy,” Jahrae observed.

“Oh, quite. There will be hell to pay when this is over, count on it. J’har, we need help from you and your Arrhazonan team.”

“You’ve got it. We are on our way, Alicia. We will get them off the rig safely.”

Jahrae ended the call, even as her family stirred to action. “Addie, can you get Serry over to mum Ro-”

“Mum, I wish to go,” was Addie’s instant objection.

“Addison, if you had let me finish, please take Serry over there, and hurry back; we need you with us.”

He was the third generation in his family to carry the given name K’hvoriz, and with the imposition of the same name, his family signalled its high expectations, expectations of which he failed to live up to in their eyes by not being a strong patriarch. His failure to meet their expectations caused his family to walk away.

Not just his parents and siblings walked away, he might have handled that part well enough. No, their reaction followed his wife of three years deciding to flee with their two-year-old daughter, disappearing without a trace.

His wife claimed K’hvoriz was abusive, but in his mind, just as he viewed most women, she was lazy and did not like his prodding her to live up to her daily responsibilities within their marriage. Marriage carried distinctive roles, and hers was to have children, have sex when he wished, and tend to their home. It was not to seek employment outside the home and make use of childcare, or expect him to come home from work *and* assist her in doing household chores.

In K’hvoriz’ view, Arrhazonan men should not do household chores; moreover, his dad made that clear to him from the moment he showed interest in dating women. His dad was right, and once married, K’hvoriz immediately moved to assert himself as dominant master of his home.

Except Sorella would not cooperate, her interest focused on pursuing a legal career – a legal career. The very thought of a woman in a profession that would laugh the moment she addressed any legal issue sickened him, not out of any empathy for her, but rather for the embarrassment it would bring to him.

Initially, in the first few months, Sorella listened to what he said, but over time, her objections grew louder and bolder. K’hvoriz recalled when she first stood defiant and unyielding, her eyes blazing with anger as she flat out refused to do as he asked. Takahla was 1 year old at the time, and he needed to demonstrate who was in charge.

Imposing the physical lesson on Sorella, the child screamed along with her mother, but it would have been a good lesson in her own future obeisance, had that witch not taken off with his child.

K’hvoriz conceded that with the last incident before Sorella left, well, maybe he did go too far, but his actions were not out of anger, his actions were out of love, and it was essential he demonstrate that she must respect his authority. He beat her for an hour, and as her defiance grew, so too had his level of violence – she had to be broken for this defiance to end.

He never expected her to fight back, an active challenge to his station that moved beyond defiance to open challenge of his authority in their household. He would not tolerate anyone questioning his authority.

K’hvoriz assumed the severe beating put an end to her attempt to gain authority; after all, he left her face a hodgepodge of shades of flesh, purple, black, and blue. When he left for work that morning she was a quivering mess, cowering and whimpering in a corner of their bedroom.

Returning that night, he searched the home, finding Sorella had left with some of her things, things that meant she left for more than a day. Along with her personal possessions, many of their daughter’s things were gone as well.

“I knew then,” he thought now, looking back. K’hvoriz sat in the living room of what was Khaehala’s home – was – he now claimed it as his own. Sitting in an overstuffed, khaki and flower-patterned chair, his mind continued scrolling through past memories, stopping long enough to realise the initial embarrassment when his family found out Sorella had left him.

Most painful was the memory of how, after it was apparent she actively hid from him, K’hvoriz’ father disowned him with the caveat ‘unless you can find a way to get her back and straighten this mess out’.

Aghast that he his family cut him off from them – and his inheritance – he looked in every way he knew how to find Sorella, but it was as if she disappeared off planet; he found nothing.

After a year, he backed away, though every six months or so he would feel the embarrassment and anger kick in again, sending him onto the Athenaeum for a frantic round of new searching for Sorella and Takahla, each time with no success.

Eighteen years passed, with K’hvoriz abandoning all hope years before. Home from work one night, he followed his usual ritual and sat down to watch the news on his full-wall media screen, news that the radical whore musician Arrhazon distastefully revered was not dead but alive, living on the Arrkarharan world.

A rescue mission was underway, and K’hvoriz dropped his beer when he saw video of the team sent to bring her back. There was his daughter Takahla on the team, he was certain of it. Media referred to her as ‘a childhood friend of llhaesa t’yaeli’, and that made sense; his wife would undoubtedly find a connection to such a well-known feminist troublemaker.

This Chsensera – the given name of Sorella’s grandmother – looked just like Sorella. A bit of research based on the name Chsensera Khaehala A’hrlae led to the physical trail, one sought in vain for almost two decades, right to Sorella’s current home address.

Waiting and choosing not strike right away, K’hvoriz calculatedly planned his next action. He preferred to know what she commonly did, where she worked, whom she interacted with in her daily life. When the time came to reassert control, he would know where she would turn if she ran again.

He had a chance now to be a hero to the men of Arrhazon, at once taking back his rightful place in society and at the same time ridding the world of that heretic feminist provocateur musician.

Sorella was shocked when she saw K’hvoriz, and as before, petulantly fought him, requiring yet another level of force to subdue her. The broken arm she sustained was healing, and it served as a constant reminder he would kill her before allowing her to get away again.

With Sorella’s bank account, that of Takahla’s government salary, and the wonderful and unexpected bonus of the trust account established in her name by the musician, K’hvoriz quit his employment. The trust fund alone had assets well in seven figures, and it was an easy matter to get her to release authority over the account to him; from 484 trillion miles away, the child was powerless to do anything else to help her mum.

“The universe has a way of correcting a wrong,” he thought, believing that his good fortune in coming across this reserve of money was a signal he was on the right path, reasserting patriarchy, at least in one home, on a world that had lost its way.

Masked with a smile, he lounged in their living room drinking beer after beer, basking in the memory of how he cleverly triumphed over his bitch wife. It was probably too late to save his child from carrying her mum’s attitude and outlook, but that was ok in the end, she paid dearly financially.

“Your breakfast is ready, K-whore,” she called out, her words once again defiant and laden with hate, disrupting his dream of patriarchal familial perfection with yet another feeble display of effrontery to his authority.

“You ask for yet another beating, Sorella?”

May the Goddess of Light enlighten you in this life, K-jerk. In the meantime, I will refer to you as I damn well wish. You can beat me to death; I no longer care what you do to me.

You can bet that it is a matter of time before you are hunted and made to pay for what you do to me.”

“Who exactly will make me pay, Sorella? Do you refer to yourself, or do you expect our daughter to miraculously reappear on Arrhazon?”

“Sooner or later authorities will find out. The Arrkarharan team is due back next summer, and you can count on your demise at that time!”

“I suppose you believe that whore musician will arrive and save your arse? Perhaps it is time to share with you that two days ago I instructed Takahla to um, see to her untimely end, in order to spare you from death?”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh yes, indeed I did.”

“Chsen would never do that, she loves llhaesa.”

“Even if it means doing as I request saves her mum? Such hard choices we face in life, Sorella.

You embarrassed me eighteen years ago by leaving and taking my child with you. Imagine how you brought all this about by running. Had you stayed, none of the side issues would be necessary.”

“Llhaesa is no side issue; she is my friend and she is Chsen’s friend. Secondly, if I had not run, you would not have millions at your disposal. What Chsen has dwarfs that pittance you expected to inherit from your family.

You are a coward; you hide behind your daughter and me, striking at someone who has done so much good for this world. Moreover, you do this because you cling to some warped illusion of manhood that does not exist, or if it ever did, Arrhazon has long since passed it by.

If ‘essa were here she would kick your sorry arse from here to Old City if she saw you lay a hand on me.

How long do you think you can get away with this before someone shows up here? I cannot feign sickness to my partners for much longer.”

K’hvoriz gave a smile that represented his belief he was in full control. “No need to, you resigned. I sent your resignation in the same day I asked Takahla to murder that bitch musician.”

You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did, Sorella. We have more than enough financial stability.

By the way, Takahla did not go to the musician; not forty five minutes ago, llhaesa sent a music file of a children’s song she recorded to her parents in law.”

Khaehala fell into a chair, despair overcoming and taking control of her mind. Pulling her feet up onto the chair, she curled up on a ball, blocking out the world.

K’hvoriz sensed he won, and left her be – for now. Arrhka set to the west, and they were an hour past dinner, there were no chores for his wife to see to at that moment.

This was his family again, finally. Relishing the thought, confident in his newly established kingdom, he left Khaehala to sleep in the chair, and went to bed.

Four hours later, the lamp on the dresser illuminated, and K’hvoriz assumed Sorella, now broken and compliant, decided to join him in his bed. He sat up, a smile already displayed as part of his expression of victory, but as his eyes adjusted, he realised there were six others in the room, all clad in similar beige coloured clothing.

“Uniforms,” his mind identified, at the same time as six very menacing looking weapons took aim directly at him, at near point blank range.

“Sir, please get out of the bed slowly; lie down face first on the floor, hands clasped behind your head.”

K’hvoriz was too shocked to move.

Officer Oalraesa M’sura repeated her order. “On the floor sir, face down, hands clasped behind your head. Now.”

His mind shaking off sleep, K’hvoriz realised that three of the six officers in the room were women. Choosing to comment rather than follow the instruction given, he remarked, “I cannot believe we allow you whores to hold down a job in a profession once the exclusive and honourable province of men.”

Officer M’sura moved quicker than K’hvoriz eyes could follow and warn the remainder of his being. Not realising the attack until too late, his next conscious thought found that he lay on the floor face down and naked, his hands violently jerked behind his back and electronically tethered.

“I would have got down, I was still waking up.”

“Yes, well, you got me out of bed through your hostage taking, so consider us even, arse hole.”

Just then, Khaehala walked into the room, an officer in plain clothes gently holding her arm, acceding to Khaehala’s wish to see the defeated attacker who haunted her through life.

Dropping to her knees just to the front of K’hvoriz as she faced him, she began to speak, her voice calm, her words slow and soft.

“I am sorry, K’hvoriz. Sorry your parents raised you to believe as you do; sorrowful you allowed those lessons to consume you such that they ruled your life. Sad you could not let go, and returned to harm me yet again.

I could handle you, and the truth is, you are no match for me, not in life, not in strength of mind, you only have physical strength, and now that is neutralised. Your daughter is a thousand times the human being you are, and you know what I just learned?

Captain M’serlah informed me moments ago your daughter went to llhaesa and Jahrae, informing them you held me hostage, and that you asked her to kill llhaesa in order to save her mum.

You, such a clever engineer, hah! That music file you saw sent to Jahrae’s parents from llhaesa. All a ruse designed to get them onto a protected Athenaeum site, giving all the details of what you do here and ask of your daughter. Jahrae’s parents notified the police, and here they are.” Finishing what she wished to say, Khaehala climbed up on her feet, standing over K’hvoriz, unmoving.

Captain M’serlah, watching Khaehala carefully, turned and spoke to the six officers in the room. Would you all please observe the entryway for a moment? There is something I wish to call your attention to as an important lesson on future assignments.”

No sooner had all diverted their attention towards the doorway than a loud snap and subsequent bloodcurdling scream filled the room. The officers, each of whom possessed lightning quick reflexes, turned as one toward the source of the scream, their weapons pointing toward where they looked. They saw only Khaehala impassively standing over K’hvoriz, as she was before they turned.

Curiously, K’hvoriz’ right arm was twisted horribly out of shape, a clean break of the radius and ulna forearm bones evident.

“And if I do not tell my mum of this incident, what then, ‘essa?”

“Defiance now, Chsen? You act like a nascent adolescent in the moment, instead of an adult. Shall breath holding be next?

Here are the facts, as I understand them: you committed to live a monogamous lifetime with Jesnsera; you wilfully violated your vow in this regard, in the process gravely hurting her.

Along with this, you hurt me and place me at financial risk, as well as create an issue that will likely surface in Arrhazonan media – with my name attached. Now I can deal with that particular shit; I will also deal with you.

You challenge me because I ask you to do the heavy lifting to clean up the detritus you spewed over Jesn, over your relationship, and over the Arrhazonan team.

Your statement of defiance suggests to me you are not of a place yet where you take responsibility for what happened and begin to apologise, ask for forgiveness, and piece things back together, responsibly.

I will not make you share what happened with your mum if you get it right from this moment going forward; but if you continue your bumptious and onerous conduct, I will tell her myself; count on it.

Lose the ‘tude, Chsen, or you will see the next level of intimidation in my repertoire.

What bothers you that you would lash out at me in this way? This is unlike you, and I know if Jahrae were here, she would be rather shocked at what you say and how you act. She would be shocked that you – you, who worked for her as part of the Equality team that searched for me – and now by your very presence on this world, continue to do so – would act in this manner.”

“What do you mean, ‘continue to do so’?”

“When you signed on to find me, you signed on as an employee of the Arrhazonan government. There are monthly deposits into your Arrhazonan account, Chsen; you work for the Arrhazonan government, and you report to Jahrae until the mission ends upon return to Arrhazon.

Are you now also denying that you are part of Jahrae’s team?”

Llhaesa could tell Chsen was angry and defensive, but this attitude had to break now, the flaws in her outlook pointed out before it could fester and build up an elaborate framework of defence. Something more was at work as well, she could sense it, and so she decided to keep pushing.

“I was part of a team that set out to find you;” Chsen rebutted; “I never expected that I would be on this world for close to eighteen months. I figured once we were here, the team stuff was over.”

“You have no awareness that the government still compensates you?”

“No, I do not.”

“You never check your records via the Athenaeum?”

“No.”

A sigh of exasperation left llhaesa; she did not attempt to hold it back. She sensed this was an outright lie, a lie with a purpose. It was time to confront this directly. “I sense something else is afoot here, Chsen, something you are not sharing with me. Are you going to share what winds its way through your mind, or are you going to sit back and let me lose all respect for you?”

Llhaesa watched as Chsen ran out of the room, apparently heading down the hall to her bedroom. Sure enough, she heard the door slam shut.

Deciding she would outwait the young woman, llhaesa realised she had no choice but to make the sofa her next place of refuge, so she shifted to it and stretched out, her long legs overreaching the arm, while resting upon it.

She picked up her mobile and rang Jahrae, sharing what unfolded. Jahrae was aghast, and now shared llhaesa’s exasperation, as well as her suspicion something else was going on.

While they chatted, Chsen re-emerged from her room and sheepishly slinked into the living room, taking the chair vacated by llhaesa when she shifted to the sofa. “I’ve got to go, Jahrae, Chsen has come back out. I love you, and will see you tomorrow. Bye bye.”

Llhaesa said nothing to Chsen, this time it was up to her to start sharing, though she pulled herself up, signalling she was ready to listen.

Chsen looked at llhaesa, reluctance – and now fear, llhaesa realised – evident in her body gestures and in her eyes. She looked down and fiddled with her hands, pondering. After three minutes of surreal silence, Chsen spoke, softly.

“I am sorry for my conduct, ‘essa.

Yes, there is something else. When was the last time you talked to my mum?”

“I would guess about two months ago. Why?”

“My dad showed up, probably right after you last talked with mum; he somehow found her, though I know not how.”

“Oh, shit. Why didn’t you tell me, or tell Jahrae? Does Jesn know?”

“Jesn does not know. My dad called me a week or so later; he forced my mum to ring me over the secure government channel.

I know the government pays me, ‘essa, I know all too well. My dad now has all of that money, demanded I release it and all of my mum’s money or he would hurt her.

As you know, he is a rabid misogynist, my mum’s parents forced her to marry him because quote ‘he was from a good family’, and it went predictably bad. He never cared about either of us. Eventually we had to hide from him, which is how we first moved into the condominium building in Old City where you and Jahrae live.”

Llhaesa felt an alarm signal inside go off, a feeling that Khaehala was in mortal danger. “I suspect there is more. Where do things stand now?”

“He sweeps my account each month after the government deposit. I do not give a shit about that, it is only money, and if it helps my mum stay safe, I will do this.

My dad stays in her flat and keeps close watch; she cannot do a thing without his permission. But what really has him riled is our team – those of us here, on Arrkarhara.”

“Us? Oh oh, let me guess. Our team consists of all women, and we are trailblazers into the future. Women should not be in such a role in his view; we should be meekly submissive and devoted to domestic duties.”

“Exactly, ‘essa; but there is still more – he hates you worst of all. He apparently went into a rage when Gl’nsiel revealed you were alive and that a rescue mission was underway. He claims the government has wasted billions of dollars to rescue ‘a mere musician’, a musician who is ‘a feminist anarchist troublemaker’.”

Llhaesa was shocked at this turn of events, and her mind worked in a thousand different ways sorting through all she learned since Jesnsera first arrived at her home.

“I have more to share, ‘essa.”

“More? Goddess, it gets yet worse.”

“It does. As much as he raged when he learned of your well-being, when he found out I was part of the team, well, that is when he tracked down mum, threatened and beat her.”

“Damn, I need to speak with Khaehala.”

“You cannot, ‘essa. He would kill her.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, Chsen?” llhaesa asked, suddenly annoyed that Chsen kept she and Jahrae in the dark.

“I could not; I could not take that chance. If the government were to get involved, he would kill my mum. As it is, I stalled; ‘essa, his last request to me was for me to find a way to kill you or he would kill mum.”

“Whaaaat? When did he ask this?”

“The day Jesn left for Buenos Aires.”

“You should have come to me or Jahrae immediately.”

“He is using mum’s interface and monitoring all communication from Arrkarhara to Arrhazon. If anyone else mentioned this, he would kill mum.”

“Chsen, there are other ways to do this – your mum does not have high level clearance, her interface only accesses open communication, not highly encrypted. And even if he could access encrypted information, I can write it into a song and send it to Arrhazon; he would never find it in a music file.”

“My dad is a communications engineer, ‘essa. He might well find such encryption.”

“He would find it in an innocuous music file sent to say…Jahrae’s parents?”

“I do not know.”

“Damn, poor Khaehala; this situation is obviously now priority, Chsen, and not the issues between you and Jesn. For the record, I understand the pressure, but that still happened and we will still need to work through it, though understanding the big picture helps some.

I am heading back home first thing in the morning. Jahrae and I will sort through how to proceed, and once we do, will advise you of our intent so that you may share your thoughts.

For now, I will call Jahrae once again to let her know this development. Stay right there.”

Llhaesa grabbed her mobile and rang Jahrae. After Jahrae answered, llhaesa began to outline the new turn of events. “J’har, we have another issue to contend with, and this is priority.”

“What now, ‘essa? I have had enough surprises to last me a year.”

“Chsen is under a huge amount of stress.”

“So aren’t we all, llhaesa. I suspect that is not all you’ve got, though.”

“You are correct. Chsen’s dad holds Khaehala hostage, and has for two months. He confiscates Chsen’s monthly salary, has access to the Athenaeum connection to our communications, and apparently is a huge misogynist who hates me.

He ordered Chsen to kill me, or else he would kill Khaehala.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, another idiot crawls out of time and harasses people.

Given what you say, I presume any communication to Gl’nsiel – or anyone in government – will be intercepted?”

“According to Chsen, her dad is a communications engineer.”

“Damn.”

“Jahrae, I wish to develop a music file to send to your mum and dad. We can use it to get their attention, use it as a harmless decoy and point them elsewhere via something related to the children we post on our site. Once they have that information, mum and dad will act on it. This is the only chance we have of assisting Khaehala.”

“I like that idea, ‘essa. Will you be home straightaway?”

“I planned to wait until morning as we have another matter still to work on, though in light of this it does introduce an added element to consider.

In light of things, we will leave now. See in you a few minutes.”

Llhaesa ended the call without having to say a word to Chsen. She hurried down the hall, gathered clothing in a bag and returned in five minutes.

Arriving back in Henna, Jesn, made aware of what happened by Jahrae yet still skittish, stayed in the room but remained silent and huddled close to Jahrae, even as Chsen said hello.

Chsen decided to settle safely into a chair further away from the sofa, while llhaesa decided to remain standing and initiate the discussion by setting priorities.

“For the time being, the marital issues are set aside here. I know for you Jesn that is a big hurt, but Chsen’s mum is in danger, and we need to resolve that issue before we can tackle what happened earlier today. Agreed?”

Llhaesa looked toward Jesn and then Chsen, already knowing Jahrae was with her on this. Both nodded but said nothing.

“Good and thank you. My plan is to send a music file to mum and dad, a music file they should recognise as a message. I have thought about how, and it must be through a song that is unknown to Arrhazon – but is a song Hrilleae and Djellrin will readily know.

Their first inclination will be ‘why did ‘essa send us this file, while if played by your dad, Chsen, he will simply dismiss it as more ‘mere music’. “

“What song could possibly convey a message?” Chsen inquired, sceptical.

Llhaesa smiled in a way that suggested she had the answer, and indeed, she did.

I will send a song that I used to play when fooling around, I never recorded it, and so no one except family knows of it. Jahrae, remember The Ewohla Song?”

“The butterfly one with the huge chain of cascading results?”

“Yes. I will send that to mum and dad, along with notes that clearly state is a brand new song I have written for kids. We sang it so many times around them, and they probably are sick of it now… remember when we sang it with Chsen and Khaehala, up on the roof?”

“I…remember that ‘essa, believe it or not, and I loved that song!” Chsen reached back seventeen years for that memory.

Llhaesa smiled at Chsen, the first kindness she extended Chsen’s way all day.

“Chsen,” llhaesa asked, “do you believe your dad can crack the encryption of an Athenaeum site?”

“Not a highly encrypted site, not immediately. In say… two weeks he might, but immediately. No.”

“Jahrae, write to your parents, and be all gushy over this song and that you cannot wait to share it with your mum and dad.

The real message will not be in the song, the real message will be on the special website we set up last year – and on which we gave the code to Hrilleae when she left on Equality. With the code given in person, there is nothing to find electronically.

They do not go to the site often, so the song is the reason – we tell them the girls developed animation to go with the song and placed it on the site, that the girls need them to go look at it and let us know what they think.

Jahrae, can you handle the message on the site and the initial email? I will record the song and send it along.”

“Absolutely, ‘essa; I will take care to specify that this is a hostage situation involving a communications expert, that they physically should go to the police and not ring them.”

Within an hour, everything was complete, the emails from Jahrae and llhaesa sent. Now they had to wait to see if Hrilleae and Djellrin got the message.

The group decided to retire for the night, with Chsen and Jesn in separate bedrooms.

They woke with the rising sun seven hours later, a message from Arrhazon waiting in their communications queue.

Jahrae read it to the four gathered. “It is from mum. They received the message and immediately signed on to look at animation, finding our urgent message and explanation. I quote:

‘We immediately printed off your message and went to the local police station. They realised how delicate a matter this was, and took extra care to hide their approach and presence.

Fortunately, we received your message late at night. When they moved in, both Khaehala and Chsen’s dad were asleep. They captured him without incident and he is now in custody’.”

After two days of intense but ultimately successful negotiation with the President of Argentina, Deputy Ambassador Jesnsera Sserhara looked forward to going home a day early and unwinding, which in her mind consisted of a night of lovemaking and a few cocktails intermixed before, during, or after the pinnacle of intimacy.

Khahishra accompanied her on the mission, continuing her newfound interest in developing a chain of small but high quality lesbian inns on both Arrkarhara and Arrhazon. Currently with a modest two, one on each world but with plenty of funding to add more, she accompanied Jesnsera to see if Argentina would be a viable location for her third, an inn in South America.

The flight from Buenos Aires to New Hampshire was all of a half hour in Mmurha, and it lasted that long only as Jesn wished to psychologically begin her unwinding by flying at a reduced speed, even if ‘reduced speed’ was multiples of times faster than an airline flight.

Piloting Mmurha, she decided to leave the craft with M’traliel and Khahishra, landing at the Inn. Khahish drove Jesn home by road, leaving her off at the beginning of the drive in order that she might surprise Chsensera, her wife of not quite one year.

Jesn carried her overnight bag thrown over her back and trekked up the winding gravel, quarter-kilometre long drive, her anticipation for seeing Chsen spiking. Reaching the door to their screened in porch, she pulled it open but held on behind her, preventing the spring on the door from slamming it shut. This done, she crossed the porch, slowly and quietly turned the knob to the inner door that led into the kitchen, pushed the door open and stealthily tiptoed through the kitchen, continuing into the hall and on into their living room.

Jesn felt her heart race, the excitement building for the surprise she was about to spring on Chsen.

Reaching the living room entry, she turned left, walked one ebullient step into the room – and stopped dead in her tracks. “Chsen?” she called out, disbelieving, before anger and overwhelming sadness flooded through her body.

Chsensera was lying naked on the sofa, her legs spread, an equally unclothed woman nestled happily between her legs, grinding, Chsen calling out approving feedback. It seemed an hour before the reality of the situation dawned upon the couch-lovers, that hour a second in real time.

The mystery woman moved as if chased by lightning, rolling off Chsen, her face locked in sheer terror. Chsen for her part sat up and stuttered, “J-j-jsen! What are you doing home early?” This was the only response Chsen’s brain could fashion in its state of sheer panic.

“Well, I had this crazy idea to leave early, thinking I could not wait to get home and see you, to do what it is you do now, er, um, did. How silly of me to presume we might do this together, instead of with another! After all, who gives a shit about our marriage? I hope your little fuck-session was good for you, arse hole!”

With that, Jesn turned and ran out of the room, out the door while slamming it behind her, on to the twin craft of Baby Bay, this one nicknamed Scootbunny. Releasing the locks, Jesn started to climb into the control seat, but stopped briefly as Chsensera appeared out of the doorway, the force of opening the door slamming it back against the side wall, snapping off a hinge as she charged out.

Clad only in a homemade Afghan hurriedly removed from the sofa back and wrapped haphazardly around her body, Chsen yelled out to Jesn to wait as she ran toward Scootbunny. After two seconds of processing the approach of her wife and her request to remain, Jesn continued to climb into Scootbunny, activated, and headed skyward, leaving the ground with Chsen but two metres away.

Piloting bled away some of the mental processing that otherwise would lose itself in the details of what just unfolded; only some. Jesn’s mind swirled, entangled, and triggered various emotions, but the overriding emotion of the moment was to flee.

Her destination was the only reasonable one, the home of llhaesa and Jahrae, with people with whom she would feel safe. As she pondered her destination, both the communications equipment on Scootbunny and her mobile rang off with continual vain attempts to contact by Chsen. Right now, Chsen was the last person in the universe with whom Jesn wished to communicate.

Five minutes after leaving, Jesn was back on the ground in Henna, rushing toward the home of her friends. Hurriedly and impatiently depressing the side door greeting, Jesn folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hands under her arms, wobbling nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, not certain of what she wished to do next.

Jahrae answered the greeting, pulling open the door. “Jesn! What an unexpected surprise…come in, come in!”

Jesn passed by as Jahrae held open the door, taking five steps before the combination of safe haven and slowing down her pace allowed emotion to overrun her, reducing Jesn to a tearful and ragged mess, collapsing onto the sectional sofa.

As this happened, llhaesa descended the stairs, spotting their unexpected company, company now in the throws of an emotional meltdown.

“Goddess of Arrhazon! Jesn, what happened?” llhaesa called, now on the run, jumping the last four stairs on the way to their young friend. Llhaesa moved to the other side of Jesn, avoiding Jahrae, who had just reached Jesn after closing the front door.

Both at a loss over what occurred to send Jesn into this state, Jahrae and llhaesa tried as best they could to calm Jesn. Their attempts proved unsuccessful for the first half-hour, but soon thereafter Jesn felt the initial flood of emotion ebb, or perhaps her tears simply ran dry, allowing her to share the story. While the crying had stopped, Jesn felt her insides wrench and tie into an unrelenting knot.

“I-I arrived home early, planning to surprise Chsen. I had Khahishra drop me off at the entry to our driveway, and walked in, carefully entering our home – and found her on the couch, fucking another.”

Llhaesa looked toward Jahrae and then back to Jesn, her inner workings instantaneously feeling queasy. Pulling the young woman into her arms, llhaesa held Jesn’s head tight against her while her mind evaluated and processed.

What she found was far short of what she wished to find. Shaking loose her self-disappointment, llhaesa simply offered, “Jesn, that bites, and nothing we say or do will change that, so I will just say we are here for you in whatever way you need us.

You have a room here and can stay as long as you wish.”

“Thank you. Your support means much and it is a big help.”

Llhaesa’s mobile rang then, and a quick look identified the caller as Chsen. Llhaesa excused herself and headed into the kitchen. After a couple of minutes, she returned to say she was leaving.

“Jahrae and Jesn, as you probably suspected, that was Chsen. She wishes to talk, and well, I am definitely of a mood for that conversation. I will leave Scootbunny with you, and will take Baby Bay instead.

I do not know what time I will be back, this could be a rather…intense discussion.”

Llhaesa hurried upstairs, peeing before she left and grabbing a jacket to take along with her. “Maybe I should bring some clothes for Chsen,” she thought, thinking of the description she just heard from Jesn, wry humour evident. In truth, llhaesa was pissed, but she needed to stifle that feeling and let Chsen share her thoughts before she said a thing.

Returning to the living room to say goodbye, she hugged Jesn and kissed Jahrae before scooting out the door and into Baby Bay.

“Llhaesa is not happy, Jesn; not happy at all.” Jahrae shared with Jesn, well knowing her partner’s emotional signals. “She loves both of you, and of course, she has felt as if a mum to Chsen, given their history. Yet this is not going to be an easy night for Chsen, of that I am certain.”

Now flying northward, llhaesa knew the limited travel time to complete the one-hundred-kilometre trip left little time for her to evaluate and process this development and drama. Within fifteen minutes, she was face to face with Chsen, standing in the couple’s living room.

“You must think I am an arse hole!” were Chsen’s first words, trying to defuse the anticipated judgement she was certain llhaesa would render.

“I do not know what to think, Chsen,” llhaesa countered, interrupting Chsen’s intent to continue. “I am here to listen and sort through how I feel about this, but in all honesty, right now I am a mix of disappointed, angry, and sadness.

You are an Arrhazonan who committed to another for life. If you felt you could not keep that commitment, then the proper path is to end the marriage first. Instead, whilst your wife was away on behalf of our world’s business, you, who is supposed to be finishing undergraduate education, instead drags someone home and fucks her on your sofa.

On the way here, I promised myself I would give you the chance to speak, and I will, but right now, right now my words are a release valve, a way of me clearing this part out of my head so we can move past it and talk substantively.

You are an adult, but I promised your mum that I would watch over you. I care deeply about you, Chsen; you are like a daughter to me, but you crushed your partner, and in the process, you hurt me.

OK, I have vented, now you have your shot to explain all of this to me. First, I intend to take a seat.”

Llhaesa chose the rust-coloured wingback chair in the front corner of the room, consciously and symbolically glancing at and passing on settling on the scene of the transgression.

“Llhaesa, I do not know what happened. I was at school, just finished class, and Myra asked me about our assigned work. I asked her if she wished to come here and work on the assignment together, and she agreed. Once here, one thing led to another – we were working on the assignment, but our eyes caught each other at just the right moment.

Next thing I knew, we were naked and passionately making love and Jesn walked in.

I love Jesn, heart and soul, and it kills me that I hurt her this way. I feel like such an emsehr – louse I guess it is in English – but do not know how I can make it up to her, if she wishes anything to do with me, or if she would ever trust me again.”

Llhaesa leaned back in the chair, blowing out hard as she did so, not hiding her frustration.

“Chsen, it is what is. I am not going to eviscerate you with words, though part of me – a lot of me – has a strong inclination to do this.

I am not you. We all make mistakes and do dumb things occasionally, and if we held grudges and hated on each other for each transgression, everyone would hate everyone else.

If we wish to avoid that pitfall, then we approach this differently. What I expect from you now is truth.

You probably cannot answer this right away; if not, take the time to think it through before you answer. Take overnight, a day, a week, but you need to find the answer. Do you love Jesnsera heart and soul? Do you yearn for her when she is not near? Do you treasure your time together? Do you respect her? Do you wish to spend your life with her?

There is another matter here. While this is Arrkarhara, you are married under the law of Arrhazon. Under our law, I am vicariously responsible for your conduct in marriage, having willingly certified to the Ceremonial Officer – in this case Jahrae – you were of willing mind and loving purpose, willing to commit your life to Jesnsera.

Under Arrhazonan law, legally I could be sued for damages by Jesnsera for stating an inaccurate premise, one she accepted in order to enter the relationship.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yes, oh shit. Jesnsera would not do this, at least I do not think she would. I have more than enough insurance and assets in any case, but damn it Chsen, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, ‘essa; I just don’t know.”

“Goddess but I could use a beer now. Don’t bother, I will find one. You stay right there.” Llhaesa walked out of the room without asking if Chsen wished to have a beer, while Chsensera sank lower into the sofa, following her self-esteem.

“Llhaesa never gets angry,” she thought. Not once had Chsen seen llhaesa pissed, but Chsen realised she was finding out right now that a pissed off llhaesa, given her physical and mental presence, as well as her overall stature, could be an extremely intimidating human being.

Llhaesa was almost a second mum to Chsen, and she revered her from the moment of meeting llhaesa and Jahrae as a child. Not only did Chsen feel awful for hurting her partner, she felt positively awful for upsetting llhaesa.

Returning with two beers, llhaesa handed one to Chsen, top already removed, and returned to her seat. “OK my dear baby dyke, we need to do some sorting, and I doubt you have much interest in sleeping, anyway.

What led you to marry Jesn?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, something made you think this was a good idea, so tell me. Was she fun to be around, did she make you smile just by entering within range of your vision, did she leave you wishing to fuck her brains out all day every day, or did she make you laugh? Share this with me.

What was it Chsen? Start there. If you cannot answer that question for me, well, there is no point in my bothering to help mitigate the damage and see if we can weld the two of you back together.

So come on, speak to me.”

“You do not ask very much of me, ‘essa, sheesh.” Chsen answered, horrified with the prospect of pulling out how she felt and sharing with llhaesa. “You know, you can be overwhelmingly intimidating when you wish to be.”

“You are damn right I can. Now please answer, honestly. Keep in mind I can spot emotional d’varkl shit a mile away.”

“You mean bullshit, ‘essa. And yes, I know you can.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“We worked side by side for weeks on our way here. After the first few weeks, I noticed I looked forward to each day, and it finally dawned on me why; there was this electricity present between us, though we both ignored it, at least initially.

I would sit there half the day with my mind fantasising about having Jesn in my bed, working through a hundred different positions, each intending to escalate the pleasure she felt from the one before.

I could not bring myself to ask her on a date or indicate any sign of interest. I feared that if our connection failed, our work would be awkward.

Each day things grew a little more intense, until I could stand it no longer. Asking if she wished to have a few drinks in the lounge, Jesn agreed, we went, and well, over drinks we just found each other, mutually.”

“How do you feel now? Does she still light your world?”

“Yes, she does ‘essa, and I feel awful. What happened today, to be honest, I was missing Jesn, she was on my mind through classes, and suddenly here I am at home with this other student, our eyes connected, and we took hold of each other and kissed.”

“You do know that trust is a huge issue here. You will not easily regain trust now that it is lost, but somehow both of you, should you decide to reconcile, will need to find your way, over time, back to a new level of trust, perhaps where neither of you are quite as naïve as before. Do not expect magic to re-insert this element into your relationship, you will need to work your arse off to bring it about.

Beyond that, please know I may have to revoke my personal certification of you being of willing mind, loving purpose, and that you are willing to commit your life to Jesn.”

“You would do this?” Chsen asked, shocked.

“If you do not demonstrate unconditional and infinite love for Jesn burns in your soul, yes, I will do this.

This is no game we play here, Chsen. Either you are ready to make such a huge commitment, or you are unready. I will not hesitate to lift my sanction, but only after careful evaluation and thought.”

“If you do this-“

“If I do this, your marriage can only continue as partially sanctioned, with you at the legal mercy of Jesn, while the Admiral, who sanctioned Jesn in your marriage, would be notified of my decision such that he could re-evaluate his sanction.”

“Would you tell my mum?”

“No, I would not tell her; you would.”

For one particular student, this elemental and semi-annual ritual of college life was as it was for all of her peers, with notable and amazing exceptions. Hers was a change of venue, not from one college in the area to another, or from one college across the country to a new area, or of migration from another country as an exchange student. Hers was a learning collaboration between her actual school, Arrhazon College, and Winnipesaukee State University, schools separated by a mind-hurting 482,460,000,000,000 kilometres across the semi-emptiness of space.

With the arrival of the Arrhazonan delegation on Arrkarhara – or Earth to those native to the Arrkarharan planet – certain select entities received equipment by which they could interact with officials on Arrhazon. To date, three had at least limited access to the Arrhazonan Athenaeum, or internet.

The White House almost immediately received such access, or specifically, President Ellenwood received limited access via the hardware and codes necessary to log into the highly secure system.

Llhaesa, working on a doctoral programme in music, via collaboration between Oxford and N’rellia on Arrhazon, provided the faculty here with a limited interface with which to interact with N’rellia and to access music records on that world.

With Chsensera returning to school, a third interface existed at Winnipesaukee State, and again the access was for limited purpose, furthering her education in a collaborative way.

The school collaborations were test cases; the interaction of diverse cultures on an educational level. If the collaborations went smoothly, llhaesa and Jahrae intended to develop a full-blown student exchange programme between the worlds, actively sending students from one world to the other.

With time, the Arrhazonans wished to lift restrictions on such access, and hoped for a complete interface between the Arrkarharan internet and the Athenaeum of Arrhazon, but not before significant change took place such that this world would not find ways to use the advanced information for ill purpose and harm to one another.

By the time the new semester began, Chsensera had worked for weeks behind the scenes, co-ordinating the logistics of her continuing education between the requirements of both schools. Along with her efforts, faculty of both worlds interacted via an advanced language interface that accurately and immediately translated first text, and then later spoken language once a visual connection was established.

Professor Margaret Okoro Nwosu at Winnipesaukee State oversaw this interaction on behalf of her new student, and she looked forward to guiding the student through school while on Arrkarhara.

“Such a wonderful name for our world is Arrkarhara,” Margaret had mentioned to those she chatted with in the faculty lounge. “Earth is so very boring a name. This name has character and charisma.”

“Are you starting a movement to change the name?” Professor Rangely teased.

“No, I really do not wish to take the heat such an effort would generate. I’ll stick with Earth, and just quietly make use of Arrkarhara in my own way.”

Margaret was an imposing figure by all accounts, standing 180.5 centimetres in height, with a trademark bald head and projecting contralto voice, as well as her standard colourful traditional African dress.

She also happened to be a rising star in academia, and many wondered behind closed doors how long she would remain at Winnipesaukee State. It would not be long before Margaret heard the enticing clarion call from one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

Brilliant of mind and with a flair for writing, Margaret had achieved some success with her first two books, one a work of fiction, the other an eye opening account on gender bias in science. With the latter, Margaret explained things factually and with much documentation, yet did so in a way that entertainingly appealed to the average reader.

The publicity over the book landed her on all of the network morning shows, as well as several appearances on Jamila Karenga’s programme. When Chsensera approached the school about the possibility of collaboration with Arrhazon College, one of the references cited was that of Jamila. With one phone call, Margaret decided this was sufficient recommendation.

From the first, she desired this student in her programme, and now that it was so, was anxious to get started.

Friends and colleagues had no way of knowing, nor did Margaret, that she would leave this school within two years, this for a distinguished and lengthy career, not at any other Arrkarharan institution, but at N’rellia on Arrhazon, on the strength of a recommendation from llhaesa. When Margaret moved on, she was destined for the finest institution on two worlds. On this day though, she had yet to meet the musician, and her mind was focused on the new semester of classes.

On the morning classes began, Chsen arrived early at Margaret’s office with two friends joining her, much to the great surprise and delight of Margaret.

“Professor Nwosu, I would like you to meet llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli and Jahrae T’srha Khentavra, friends from Arrhazon. I think you may have heard of them!

Llhaesa and Jahrae, this is Professor Margaret Okoro Nwosu, my advisor and Professor of Research Methodology in the Sciences.”

Margaret extended her hand to the unexpected guests, and the warm exchange completed, motioned for them to have a seat in her modest sized office. “As you can see, space is at a premium here!” she observed, watching llhaesa pull another metal and fabric chair over to join the two already in front of Margaret’s antique mahogany, colonial style desk.

“It is such an honour to meet both of you!” Margaret repeated, once each of her guests settled in to their respective chairs. “What brings you here today?”

“When the rescue mission began, I promised to provide guidance for Chsen,” Jahrae explained. “But once we succeeded in finding llhaesa, the connection between she and Chsen runs so deep that we all felt it best that llhaesa oversee her student work, from a non-school perspective. Llhaesa interacts with Chsen’s mum Khaehala regularly, keeping her up to date on things.”

Llhaesa took a turn at continuing the explanation. “We recognise Chsen is an adult – she is married now, after all – but on Arrhazon, we have a tradition of involvement in education on a parental level, at least where necessary.

I’m not here to make her do her homework, rather just to provide general guidance, much as you do as an advisor, except on a parental level.”

“I see,” Margaret nodded as she replied. “I love that both of you are involved and engaged and looking out for her best interests. Can we bottle this attitude and distribute it throughout the world?”

“None of us wishes you to feel any obligation to or feel we suggest you adopt our customs,” llhaesa clarified, though the remark left her smiling, “we will just approach things our way, and if others find a positive in this they wish to emulate, so be it; they are quite free to make such a choice.

As you now know, Chsen is an excellent student, and she expresses interest in eventually pursuing a doctoral degree. We encourage her to pursue her studies with this in mind, and for reciprocity, she encourages me in my endeavour in pursuit of a doctorate in music.”

“You are in school, llhaesa?” Margaret was surprised by llhaesa’s hinting of her continuing education.

“Yes, I start next week, in between playing concerts, home life, and advocating for equality.”

“And you are pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Interestingly, I read an article in the Sunday paper suggesting women cannot have it all. I suspect you beg to differ.”

The other three laughed, with Chsen responding, “You have to know llhaesa. Nothing seems impossible to overcome when she is involved.”

A melodic, dream like sequence called out, signalling an incoming phone call for Margaret on her office phone. The call lasted but a few seconds, and ended with Margaret bolting out of her seat towards the door to her office, which she promptly secured.

Turning back toward her three guests, she asked each to rise and step off to the far side of the office and against the wall along the corridor, away from the door. “There has been shooting on campus. A suspect was apparently last seen entering this building. Under our security procedures, we must lock down each room when such an alert is given.”

Jahrae and llhaesa looked at each other in shock, and both thought the same thing, could see the like-mindedness in each other’s eyes; they had to act. If they were in Chekresu, they could locate and disarm those involved, but the craft was a kilometre away.

Llhaesa sprang from her seat and moved toward the door. As Margaret called out for her to not unlock the door and go out, llhaesa did precisely that, with Jahrae on her heels, instructing the remaining behind Chsen on the fly, as she moved through the doorway, to lock the door immediately.

“I will go towards the left, Jahrae, you go right, and… please be safe.”

“You take care as well ‘essa.”

Off they went towards the respective end points of the third floor corridor where the stairwells were located. As llhaesa reached the stairwell, a shot rang out from below, with the sound echoing through the stairwell, a sound followed by an immediate scream of intense agony.

Llhaesa moved carefully and quietly, stepping into the stairwell, all of her senses on full alert, only to hear rapidly ascending feet before she moved to step downward. Backing off, she returned into the corridor and softly closed the entry door, hiding along the wall just beyond where the door would open.

Time seemed to move in slow motion, the footfalls on the stairs growing ever louder, slowing and quieting at a landing and turn, resuming on the next flight. At last, the footsteps softened on the landing just on the other side of the door. The door slowly opened, with the intrusion of the barrel of a rifle the first ominous sign of the shooter.

Llhaesa’s heart rate spiked upon seeing the weapon, her body tensing, which she willed under control through silently chanting Aailhra symbols.

Seeing no one down the hall, the intruder moved rapidly through the doorway, the door swinging open, and as a result, concealing llhaesa. The intruder started down the hall, while llhaesa called upon every ounce of strength in her legs and will via Aailhra, and sprang forward in a long leap, taking the shooter down at the waist in a perfect tackle.

As she leaped into the air, Jahrae re-emerged at the far end of the corridor, screaming ‘llhaesa!” as she ran forward to assist.

The shooter fought tenaciously, with nothing to lose, their mind sending every ounce of strength to their legs and arms and teeth. A baseball cap fell away from their head, and longish hair, freed from the cap’s confines, flared out in various directions.

The person bit llhaesa in numerous places, and punched her in the face once, but within thirty seconds, llhaesa had overcome the resistance. Knowing they stood defeated, the unknown person’s muscles relaxed, allowing llhaesa to take full control. She pulled the person to a sitting position and held on as Jahrae arrived.

“Jahrae, please have Margaret inform campus security we have one person in custody.” Turning to the attacker, llhaesa urgently asked, “Are there any others who attack?”

Her question met with silence, powered by the glare of eyes that called out the pure hatred that stirred within.

Llhaesa gently shook the attacker and forcefully pulled the collar of their shirt forward and upward, trying to get their attention. Raising her voice, she asked again, quite sternly this time, “Are there any other attackers?”

“I will not tell you, you cannot stop us all!”

“Goddess of Arrhazon!” Llhaesa pulled herself upward, easily dragging the attacker with her as she rose. Jahrae returned by the time they were on their feet, and she stood watch as llhaesa patted the attacker down, her search finding a pistol and a bowie knife.

“Well now, it looks like you have some anger management issues going on,” she commented, sickened by the violence that undoubtedly wreaked havoc upon the normally placid campus.

“Now are you going to start talking?”

“No. I wish to die.”

“I have no doubt you desire such a choice, but where you erred is in giving yourself a choice and denying one to others.”

“It is you – your kind – that we dislike. One of you is now a student here, and has made friends with other students. You are gaining influence, and who knows what else you plan. Any American who befriends you aliens deserves to die!”

Llhaesa and Jahrae looked at each other, dismayed. Turning back to the person in their custody, she tried again, from a different direction.

“If you have issue with me, or us, all you need do is chat with us, we will share the truth. My children are of this world, I wish nothing but good things for all of you. Buying into lies and made up fantasy about alien invaders has filled you with hate.

Let go of that hate, find the person inside that you are. Let go of it, reclaim your mind.

Now you think on that while we walk.”

“Where are we going?”

“You will be locked in a secure area until authorities arrive.”

“I shot one person downstairs, and they are still alive. The other three with me before, they killed at least ten people.”

“You saw this?” Jahrae asked.

“Yes, before we split up to enter individual buildings, the better our chances of success.”

“Your name is?” llhaesa softly asked.

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, it is not too late to mitigate the horror here. Talk to me, which buildings did they go to?”

Melissa listed the buildings as they reached Margaret’s office. Security arrived then, and llhaesa explained what they knew. The security detail shared there was a standoff in two other buildings, each smaller than the science building in which they stood. Apparently, the attackers had barricaded themselves in. They were yet unaware of the third, and reported this information immediately.

“Jahrae, we need to get to Chekresu, and right now.”

“You are not allowed to go out there!” One of the officers ordered.

“I am sorry, officer, but we must. We can stop this madness once we reach Chekresu.”

“What is ‘Chekresu’?”

“Our landing craft.”

“Landing what?”

“Officer, never mind. I will explain after they are gone. You two, go!” Margaret ordered, acting decisively, her booming and authoritative voice demanding attention, both facts not lost on llhaesa and Jahrae as they scooted away.

The Arboretum was spacious for a garden on board a ship, a curved room that stretched 65 metres by 30, affording substantial space for growing greenery of practical and aesthetic purpose, while simultaneously affording the crew a more natural place for them to seek occasional refuge.

An artificial stream that in actuality looked like the real thing, coursed through the Arboretum, slowly meandering to give maximum water exposure in a minimum amount of space. Varying in width and depth to simulate a stream, its source was a three-meter high rock waterfall, while it seeped into cleansing and permeable sand at its terminus. In spots, the water reached two metres in depth, and three in width, making it potentially possible to swim in the stream.

Located on the top deck of the ship and to the opposite side from the bridge, except for the lounge and dining hall, it was the most popular place on the ship.

When Jesnsera rendered the decision to ‘semi-informal,’ the meaning was for attendees to dress down tastefully. The actual ceremony matched the spirit of semi-informal, where both partners planned to wear slacks and a top, unmatched in relation to each other. Comfort was their wish, and comfort was the reality.

Jahrae on the other hand, dressed formally, given her role as prelate administering and officially sanctioning the marriage. She chose what to those from Arrkarhara would be a tuxedo, solid black, with a white blouse, with matching red bowtie and cummerbund that was almost a perfect match for the elemental red streak in her hair.

While her original choice was burgundy, Jahrae quickly saw this colour clashed with her hair, and so she chose red in its stead. As for hair, she revisited Oalessa early in the afternoon, and Oalessa trimmed, curled, and re-coloured the front-streaks of red, rust, blonde, and white, while adding a permanent curl to the coloured streaks.

Simply, Jahrae was stunning, and in marked contrast to the more dressed down llhaesa who wore Arrkarharan black jeans that eagerly displayed legs with an almost one metre inseam. Llhaesa chose a silk, buttoned, and red top trimmed with black and white, her lone concession to the colours worn by Jahrae. The top flared at the bottom and was of hip length, which had a black, red, and white tie around at the waist. In contrast to Jahrae in black heels, llhaesa wore flat sandals that wove across the top of her feet, somewhat, but not completely, equalising the couple in height.

Llhaesa chose to keep her hair in dreads, as Oalessa, while intrigued with the dreadlock style, had no experience in how to form the tight braids. Ready to head out, the couple took stock of one another. Though dressed in markedly different ways, both were striking in appearance. They embraced and kissed, while their eyes were reluctant to break away from direct contact with the other.

At 3:15, they left their suite, heading for the top deck and the Arboretum. The first to arrive, llhaesa and Jahrae loved the rearranged décor and setting. For a couple who desired a natural setting to exchange vows, this was a wonderful approximation of the real thing.

Jesnsera arrived next, followed by Ronnie and the girls. Jesn was dressed in close accord with llhaesa, informally and comfortable but tastefully, with the expressed desire to ‘focus on why we are here.’

Chsensera arrived and surprised, wearing the Arrhazonan equivalent of a sun dress, with yellow, green, orange, white, and black colours displayed in a bright array reminiscent of springtime, and simple black, straight strap, sandals.

Ronnie, limited in wardrobe given most of their clothing was thirty six thousand kilometres below, worked with what she had with Serada, dressing her in slacks a top, while adding a flower to her hair. Addison, growing into adulthood, selected jeans and an exposed tee with open buttoned down shirt, while she curled her hair as almost a match for Jahrae.

By 3:50 all attending were present, including the Admiral, First Officer, and many other off-duty members of the ship’s crew. All told, some one hundred were now in the Arboretum.

Jahrae, chatting with llhaesa just along the stream, called it time to ready, with llhaesa heading off to get Chsensera, while Jahrae moved toward where the wedding party of four would stand.

The Admiral agreed to serve as accompaniment to Jesnsera, and so he joined llhaesa and Jesn moments after llhaesa found them.

Jesn and Admiral M’lensa left the Arboretum, crossing to a room opposite it along the corridor, while llhaesa and Chsensera left at the far end to a room near that entrance.

Once inside, llhaesa brought out the head covering or l’oaela that Jahrae brought on ship for sentimental reasons. Jahrae fortuitously brought the l’oaela that she and llhaesa wore, and now she would wear it again, while Chsensera would wear her chosen l’oaela in the ceremony.

Taking her l’oaela out of its protective covering, llhaesa briefly fell into nostalgia, picturing it upon her head almost seventeen years before. She gently unfolded the l’oaela, and loved that it retained its vivid colouring of green, grey, black, white, and red stripes and blocks, the pattern akin to an Arrhazonan version of an Arrkarharan Scottish tartan.

These were colours chosen by llhaesa as representative of her, just as Jahrae chose the colour pattern of navy blue, sky blue, grey, white, and yellow to represent her. The Admiral proved an apt student when llhaesa showed him how to place the l’oaela on Chsen’s head, though the Admiral was initially skittish.

Seventy centimetres in length, while fifteen centimetres wide, the partners would wear the garments straight across one’s head, and in this ceremony, Jahrae would fold each back in half, front to back at the beginning of the ceremony. At the end, Jahrae would remove both and braid them together with one of her choosing, to remain this way unless used in another ceremony, after which as per tradition, one would undo the braid prior to use, while the other would re-braid the l’oaela thereafter.

Jahrae undid the braid of their combined l’oaela for this ceremony, and so by tradition, llhaesa would redo the braid thereafter. Chsensera first placed llhaesa’s l’oaela on llhaesa, folding it backward and in half. Llhaesa then placed Chsen’s choice of yellow, green, orange, white, and black upon Chsen’s head, leaving it unfolded. Pattern was less important than colour combination in the Arrhazonan ceremony; pattern was purely for aesthetics, and llhaesa loved Chsen’s chosen colours.

Llhaesa walked around Chsen, making certain the l’oaela looked right from all sides. She then pinned it in place so it would not fall as Chsen walked.

Satisfied, she pinned it twice, gave another walk around, and pronounced Chsen ready. “One moment, Chsen, I will check on Jesnsera and the Admiral.’

Llhaesa made her way to the other room, found both ready, and returned to Chsen. Giving Chsen a hug and kiss, llhaesa pronounced her ‘ravishing and aglow,’ and then led the young woman out the door and to the Arboretum entrance.

Llhaesa saw the Admiral and Jesnsera in the distance, and seeing the Admiral nod, triggered the door mechanism to open. The door dutifully slid open, and ready to start, llhaesa began to sing. Chsensera led with llhaesa two steps behind, continuing to sing as they ceremoniously and slowly walked toward the front, where Jahrae awaited each party.

The Admiral joined in singing, his voice passable, though llhaesa carried the song with the Admiral’s voice more accompaniment. This was the only way he felt comfortable singing, and given the inherent power of llhaesa’s voice, the vocal tandem worked perfectly.

While Chsensera and llhaesa made their way up one aisle, Jesnsera and the Admiral matched their pace on the other, and each reached the two mini bridges spanning the artificial stream at virtually the same time. Jesn stumbled slightly on the bridge, but kept her balance.

Reaching Jahrae as the song ended, the timing in actuality matching the timing in practice, both Chsensera and Jesnsera stopped before Jahrae, briefly stealing a glance at and give a smile to, each other.

President Ellenwood, Barbara Millwood, and Marcia Paang sat in the first row on the left, with Ronnie, Elsrensia, and the girls. Saehressa, Hrilleae, Anita, M’traliel, and Khahishra sat in the row just behind them.

Llhaesa now stood alongside Chsensera to the right, while the Admiral stood alongside Jesnsera on the left. Jahrae began the actual ceremony by speaking to those gathered.

“Good afternoon friends and family of Chsensera and Jesnsera. Before I begin, please know that Chsen and Jesn request you join them after the ceremony in the ship’s lounge. Thank you.

For those of you from Arrkarhara, please know I will repeat my words in English throughout the ceremony.

The ceremony is brief, but ritualistic. You will see me take the l’oaela covering on their crowns, and delicately and neatly fold it backward and in half as we begin. At the conclusion, I will remove the folded l’oaela from their heads and braid them together with one I have chosen, to remain this way until worn again at a future date and in a future ceremony.

Now, I wish to take a few moments to share personal thoughts and observations from the interactions of llhaesa and me with Chsensera and Jesnsera.

Our first interaction with Chsen occurred in a lift to our flat. This enthusiastic three year old warmly called out a greeting to llhaesa, instantly making a friend. Llhaesa invited her and her mum to our flat, and soon she began to take piano lessons with llhaesa. The lessons were not for purposes of llhaesa establishing such a practise, but rather due to this adorable child, a child for which we looked for every excuse to interact therewith.

When llhaesa was lost, and llhaesa, I have yet to share this story with you, but Chsensera stood vigil in the rain, holding a candle. For eight hours, this little child stood outside our building with many others much older, resolved to honour what we all thought was our fallen loved one.

I will never forget that act, or the image frozen indelibly in my mind. Within a year, Chsen’s mum moved away from our building, and we lost contact for several years. I did not know Chsensera struggled with llhaesa’s loss, that she could no longer play piano as a direct result of llhaesa’s loss. Her mum sought out therapy to assist her child, but it was only on this mission, once learning llhaesa was alive, that Chsen could sit and again play the piano.

Two years ago, we reconnected, and when the time came for me to select the team to find llhaesa, I knew she was a logical and necessary choice.

Jesnsera, we met only recently, once on board this ship. We needed assistance, and you came highly recommended by Admiral M’lensa. I accepted his recommendation and brought you in to meet our team, saw you were a great match, and formally asked you to join us.

As we drew closer to Arrkarhara, it became apparent that diplomacy was your true avocation. Inside of a month, you learned and now fluently speak ten Arrkarharan languages.

While I was impressed with your work skill, you are personable and a great match for Chsen. Of course, your flirting came as initial surprise, though I spotted the telltale exchanges before your formal pronouncement of love. I saw more than you think!

When you asked me to preside over this ceremony, despite what my wife jokes about my power hunger, in reality, no greater honour comes to me than to stand here and make formal your marriage. I shall cherish this moment through my life. Thank you.

I turn now to our formal endeavour.” Jahrae stepped forward and to the front of Jesnsera, where she delicately and carefully folded the l’oaela backward and in half, smoothing out wrinkles from top to either side with the palms of her hands.

First looking Jesnsera directly in the eye, Jahrae bowed slightly, and then turned and took two steps toward her left, to stand in front of Chsensera. Reprising the act of folding, Jahrae finished by looking intently and deeply into Chsensera eyes, and bowed.

Jahrae returned to her original position, and turning to llhaesa she formally asked, “Llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli, is Chsensera Khaehala A’hrlae of willing mind and loving purpose, and does she wish to commit her life to be one with that of Jesnsera Ae’sha Sserhara?”

“Chsensera Khaehala A’hrlae is of willing mind and loving purpose, and is so willing to commit, Jahrae T’srha Khentavra.” Llhaesa formally and loudly proclaimed.

Jahrae turned toward the Admiral. “Admiral I’Isahra Keha M’lensa, is Jesnsera Ae’sha Sserhara of willing mind and loving purpose, and does she wish to commit her life to be one with that of Chsensera Khaehala A’hrlae?”

“Jesnsera Ae’sha Sserhara is of willing mind and loving purpose, and is so willing to commit, Jahrae T’srha Khentavra.” The Admiral confidently pronounced.

“Very well then, we shall proceed. Chsensera and Jesnsera requested llhaesa sing now, before the final exchanges.

Llhaesa, would you step forward and sing Forever, Wherever to honour our young couple?”

Caught up in the emotion of the ceremony, llhaesa stepped forward as Jahrae assumed her vacated position, and turning to the gathering, began to sing. Emotion riding on adrenaline coursed through her veins, and llhaesa, if possible, sang better than at any time in her life. Llhaesa looked at Jahrae, who nodded slightly, the only way she could visibly affirm llhaesa’s calling other than with the connectivity of their eyes, which locked together as soon as llhaesa began to sing.

Llhaesa broke this gaze to look toward first Jesnsera and then Chsensera, willing herself to honour and bless their commitment. Her voice echoed through the Arboretum, loud, emotional, confident, and perfect. Few in the gathering had dry eyes by the finish, and tissues were evident if one looked around.

Finished, llhaesa returned to her place alongside Chsensera, while Jahrae returned to the front.

Taking a moment to squelch her own tears, Jahrae resumed the ceremony. Chsensera, do you lovingly, willingly, and legally give of yourself to Jesnsera?”

“Yes, with honour, and of free will.”

Jesnsera, do you lovingly, willingly, and legally give of yourself to Chsensera?

“Yes, with honour, and of free will.”

Very well; from the power of tradition as well as official sanction of the Government of Arrhazon, you are married in the official records of our society, and in the view of all you know. Please remain where you stand as I braid the l’oaela into one.

Jahrae stepped toward Jesnsera and removed her l’oaela, and then stepped toward Chsensera, repeating the action. Jahrae stepped back to her place of officialdom and, remaining standing, began to braid the two with another colour pattern she chose days before. The action took several minutes, but when done, the intricate colours merged and separated repeatedly, symbolic of their intertwined lives and resulting new entity.

She stepped toward the newlyweds, and presented the braided l’oaela to them, with Chsen’s right hand held out to receive, along with Jesn’s left hand.

The couple bowed to llhaesa, bowed to the Admiral, turned and bowed to the gathering, and finally turning back toward Jahrae, bowed to her.

Dropping each to one knee, they thanked Jahrae for her grace and sanction, promising to honour their commitment to one another for a lifetime. Jahrae motioned for them to rise, and after doing so, they turned and walked slowly out of the Arboretum, together.

In the image, the child was in the foreground of most of the picture. There were hints of inclement weather – the child’s face was obviously wet, the hair falling outside of her hat showed beads of water, and the brightness of the picture was muted, though the colour remained vivid. The child’s expression looked as if the very weight of the world was carried upon her shoulders, that she had suffered some massive injustice.

The child was dressed for cool and wet weather, her hair streaming out both sides of a cuffed, bright yellow rain hat; her hair showed signs of being stirred by a moderate breeze, blowing from the left; one thicket of hair lie across her face at the chin. A matching slick and somewhat reflective raincoat covered her torso and arms, though the folds of the coat sent any reflected light off in various other directions, away from the viewer.

A glowing electronic candle was in the firm grasp of both of her small hands, hands held roughly chest high and up against the very young woman. There was little doubt that her hands were holding strong, projecting her inner determination and resolve.

If one looked closer, they could see the child was standing outside of a building – one those who knew her knew housed her very own flat, along with housing Jahrae Khentavra and until her death at the hands of the government, llhaesa t’yaeli. Both were very close friends of the child and her mum, and had they been asked, both llhaesa and Jahrae would readily have claimed the child as ‘family.’

A year later, when the documentary on llhaesa was released to the world, the promoting image that accompanied the for sale copies of the documentary – as well as promotional advertising on the illegal stations – was of this child’s image.

The child was Chsensera, all of 5 years old, and she stood outside on that gloomy, rainy, and raw day for more than 11 hours with her mum. She was hardly alone in keeping vigil, and she stayed until she fell asleep on her feet.

Jahrae, by way of Kukaeshra, had released the first of llhaesa’s 3 last night recordings; it swept over the planet as if the light of a suddenly activated bright new sun shone in the sky. When a stunned world reacted in outrage to the music release and the accompanying explanation and information disseminated along with it, EREGS quickly planned and organised a silent vigil in Old City, to be held in the park across from, and right up to, the T’yaeli – Khentavra residence.

Even with two days of inclement weather preceding the vigil, people started arriving early in the morning of the day before, setting up tents and makeshift lean to’s to shelter them from the weather. By afternoon, there was little room left for makeshift shelter, and so some took to stringing tarpaulins between trees.

By the morning of the vigil, a substantial part of the area was blocked to vehicular traffic. Police were massing around the perimeter of a 400 square block area, but they wisely stayed outside. One false move, and there would have been a rebellion launched on the spot. And so a good part of Old City as well as the entire southeast quadrant was inaccessible to government enforcers; the streets were now in the hands of the people.

Chsensera, this five year old, normally bubbly and happy go lucky child, was fully aware of the planned vigil, and no one was going to keep her away. Khaehala was not at all sure how her daughter had become so well informed, or how she gained this specific information; sometimes Chsensera’s resourcefulness knew no bounds. Khaehala wondered if Saehressa harboured similar memories of llhaesa as a child.

Khaehala shared her daughter’s outrage, which for her was compounded by how the government conduct would directly impact her daughter now and in the future. As Khaehala saw it, she was surrounded by women of strength – llhaesa surely was, Jahrae, M’traliel, and incredibly, her own five year old daughter. Here Khaehala had thought llhaesa would teach Chsensera music that the child would love to learn. What she now knew was that Chsensera had somehow – even at her young age – sought out and found like minded, powerful women, There was no doubt in Khaehala’s mind that some well aware and powerful inner instinct guided Chsensera to congregate with and be amongst her peers.

There would be footage of the child of resolve and incredible stamina in the documentary. Both Jahrae and Khaehala possessed significant footage of Chsensera, Jahrae, and llhaesa together. The documentary would show how these bonds formed, and it would show why Chsensera was unrelenting – until she fell asleep and dropped – while holding vigil to honour the memory of her fallen friend.

Most of the memories from her early years of life were now lost to the predisposition of time to sort, to place new memories ahead of old, to attach significance to important events such that they overrode the usual sorting protocol.

The musician was a goddess in her memory, larger than life, and Chsensera would tell anyone who asked she could feel the musician occasionally touch her shoulder, giving some gentle reminder to live life on her terms, to not fall prey to fear.

Chsensera’s piano lessons ceased with the loss of her idol; the truth was she could not bear to see or hear one for several years thereafter, finally finding a way to resolve this issue with professional guidance.

As part of her effort to help her traumatised daughter, Khaehala sold her flat, hoping that a new location would remove the constant reminder that llhaesa was a friend who was lost to a megalomaniac. The move turned out to be for nothing, Chsensera would burst into tears at any triggering memory of llhaesa, yet she refused to part with any of the mementos she possessed of the fallen musician.

Fully 14 years later after she saw llhaesa last, the final year secondary school student had learned to channel her memories and reverence into something positive, spurring her to follow llhaesa’s lead to be all she wished to be.

The day before, documents were found which apparently detailed exactly how the government had dealt with llhaesa, the insidious means by which she was taken out. There were hints of arrests, new arrests years after the fall of Brellian and the various trials of those who supported his illegal governance.

Chsensera was conflicted; part of her wished to know exactly what the beasts had done to her friend, part of her feared the agonising pain that would surely come her way if she knew the truth. In the end, she would choose the truth, but she also planned to take another step: seek out Jahrae Khentavra.

Jahrae had been the moving force in the final push for Brellian’s ouster. Llhaesa would have been so proud of her! Jahrae released llhaesa’s last 3 songs, recorded and released her own simultaneously with a movie on llhaesa’s life.

An outraged world rose up, angered that a leader could strip them of freedom, angered that a leader could oppose rights for all, angered that the leader abused and murdered, angered that a world treasure was sacrificed for the self preservation of that megalomaniacal leader.

Chsensera was too young to fully grasp what was unfolding with llhaesa, with Brellian, with Jahrae… but she yearned to see her again, and sensed the time had arrived to make it so.

Chsen’s mum possessed a special contact address for Jahrae, but Chsensera heretofore was not quite brave enough to make use of it. She would ask her mum for the contact address once she was home from school.

Unable to get her thoughts refocused on school, Chsensera wondered what Jahrae was like now, if she ever found love again in her life. “She must be… 33 now.” Chsensera calculated.

The day passed agonisingly slow for the final year student. Her mind remained distant from her studies, and very much focused on the advancing clock, biding her time until she would fulfil her newly formed resolution.

The school day finally came to a merciful conclusion, and Chsensera was out the door before any other student. She walked at a near running speed, covering the 1.2 kilometre distance in a hair less than 10 minutes.

Rushing into her home, she headed straight for her mum, gave greeting, and asked for Jahrae’s contact information all in one breath.

Khaehala laughed at her daughter’s energised state, but inside she was very pleased Chsensera had finally wished to reconnect with Jahrae. Life has to move on beyond tragedy, and this would help bring some perspective to Chsen.

Khaehala rose from her seat, went into her office, and activated the electronic interface. Once functioning, she called up the stored information on Jahrae, and called to Chsen, unnecessarily so, for she was waiting impatiently in the doorway.

Now armed with a tangible means of connection, Chsensera wasted no time in advancing the call. After a short pause, a familiar voice came on the line, followed a split second later by an image. “Hello, this is Jahrae.” Chsensera was momentarily frozen in seeing her old friend. Her mouth failed to respond to the signals ordering it to mouth words. The more she tried, the more she remain tongue tied. “Hello?” Jahrae called out again.

Finally, through sheer will and mind over matter, Chsensera self identified: “Jahrae, this is Chsensera. I don’t know if you remem –“she offered tentatively, only to be cut off by Jahrae.

“Chsensera! Oh, wow! Look at you! Last time I saw you, you were in as bad a shape as me, this wee little thing, fully comprehending someone was lost forever. How are you? I’ve often thought of you, wondered how you were doing.” Jahrae was as excited as Chsensera.

“I’m doing well, Jahrae. I’m in my final year of secondary school, and now thinking on which school to attend next year. How are you doing?” Chsensera was more interested in Jahrae than talking on her own doings.

“I’m doing ok, living a rather quiet life now that the change we sought has been made reality. You mentioned looking for a college for next year. Have you sought out financial information?” Jahrae already knew where she would take this conversation; she had a surprise in store for the young woman.

Chsensera quickly responded. “I intend to work some, and also apply for financial aid. Mum has all she can handle with the home, if you recall we lost a great deal when we sold the old place, and my dad… disappeared.”

Jahrae was saddened by this turn of events, but she had her surprise ready to go. “Chsen – do people still call you Chsen?”

“Yes, in fact most do.” Chsensera interjected, and then Jahrae continued.

“This might be hard for you to hear, so if you do not wish to hear something potentially traumatic, please tell me now.” Jahrae waited for affirmation to continue.

“I’m ok, Jahrae. What is it?” Chsensera wondered.

“OK. When you were first visiting us, taking lessons from llhaesa, she decided – and I agreed – that we would set up a special account in your name. I’ve still got the record of it, still get regular statements, and I’m pretty sure in glancing quickly at the figures… that you have more than enough to pay for your education and pay off the mortgage on your mum’s home.” Jahrae loved saying every minute of it, if only llhaesa had been here for this moment.

The two chatted for another hour, exchanging stories from their lives over the last 12 years. Little did Chsensera – or Jahrae for that matter – know that part of her college education would be deferred. Deferred as Chsensera would beg until she turned blue for a chance to go with Jahrae on what would seem to many to be a high stakes attempt to find a needle in 140 haystacks. Failure would mean life continued as it was in the now. Success meant an unimaginable reward, one she would sooner be dead than miss out on being there. The years she would be required to be away from home would be well worth exchanging for a chance at achieving that success.

Adults see the bigger picture – all of the knowledge and skill needed to play well – while a child most often sees something that can play sounds through their own manipulation.

Llhaesa had no intention of teaching notes in the moment; Chsensera was going to have fun with the piano, and was going to learn to play simple associations of notes together. Most often, llhaesa preferred to keep her own hands off, and instead let the child guide where she wished to go – with some general direction from llhaesa.

First, she gave very basic instruction on how to position hands, which Chsensera adapted to immediately. Next she asked “Chsen, pick any two keys you want to try – like this.” Llhaesa tapped two keys in succession.

Chsensera tapped down on two keys, with a slight delay between the two. “Very good, Chsen! Now can you remember which two you picked?” llhaesa inquired. Chsensera nodded enthusiastically, and tapped them again, this time slightly faster.

“Now pick two more, and play those. Try to remember which two.”

Chsensera played two more notes.

“Play that one again, and then play the first two you picked again.” Llhaesa was really going to enjoy this. She could see why her mum liked teaching music at school.

The child played the notes again, and then played the first two she had chosen.

“Which one do you like better, the last one you played, or the first one?”

I like the second one! Chsensera’s face sported a wide smile as she gave her answer.

The world class musician and her young child-friend spent over an hour, just getting the child used to working with a keyboard. Llhaesa would let the child’s interest and ability dictate where they went as time went on, but for now and the immediate future, their time together would be fun time, not work time. The very last thing she wished to have happen was to have Chsensera loathe playing.

Finally llhaesa suggested they go have some lunch. “I’m hungry, how about you, Chsen?”

“Me too!” the child quickly responded.

The two walked to the kitchen, where unbeknownst to them until now, Jahrae had made sandwiches for all. Each sandwich had been cut into simple geometric shapes, leaving Chsensera totally in awe of her triangular sandwich. Llhaesa picked up her circle-sandwich, held it in front of her face and pulled a rather impish face, grinning at Jahrae.

“I’ve never had a circle-sandwich before. You must be really special for Jahrae to do this, Chsensera!” llhaesa was simultaneously teasing and enthusiastically complementing Jahrae, and Chsensera joined in to say the sandwiches were ‘really cool!’

“Oh, and look at this! Llhaesa called attention to her plate, where she cut the circle-sandwich in two. “If you cut my sandwich in half with a knife, you get two half-moons!” llhaesa held up each half of the sandwich as if they were in the sky. “Where have you seen two half-moons before, Chsensera?”

It was as if llhaesa was reliving her childhood, and Jahrae loved her all the more for it. In the moment, Jahrae snickered as she thought of an alternate answer to llhaesa’s question, but she bit her tongue.

Jahrae’s loving turned snickering thought was fortunately and quickly broken by Chsensera’s knowing response. “In the sky!”

The three ate and talked and laughed throughout lunch. By the time Khaehala arrived for Chsensera, llhaesa and Jahrae were truly lamenting the child’s departure.

“Khaehala, she is a wonderful, wonderful child, a joy to have around. We had lots of fun today playing on the piano. Next time maybe we will take some old-fashioned paper and trace some of the keys, then we will colour them in. Would you like to do that, Chsen?” llhaesa asked, but her question was first answered by Jahrae.

“Oooh! Can I do that too? Please?” Jahrae winked at her wife.

“Sure you can, Jahrae. I think Chsen and I would enjoy that very much!”

“You bet!” the child piped in.

Khaehala and Chsensera both thanked the two young partners. And truth be told, Khaehala felt blessed that she and her child had such wonderful neighbours. Khaehala hoped that she could be so generous of self in return. She sensed that llhaesa was teaching her daughter – subtly teaching her daughter – about how to live life, how not to be a slave of whatever task is at hand, but rather to find joy and happiness in the task. This was something Khaehala wished she had learned at such a young age.

A brief phrase of music signalled their presence. Jahrae was closest to the door, and so she responded, opening the door right into the upward looking eyes of a child on a mission.

“You must be Chsensera” Jahrae greeted the child. “And you know, llhaesa was right, you are really tall for your age! By the way, I’m Jahrae.” Jahrae wished this particular relationship to get off on the right foot.

For her part, Chsensera fielded the statement on her height with quiet aplomb, a statement of what is. She then reciprocated Jahrae’s greeting. “Hello Jahrae!” Turning toward her mom with an extended hand signalling the intent of her coming statement, the child continued. “And this is my mum!”

At this point, llhaesa came up behind Jahrae, gave greetings to Khaehala and Chsensera, and began to formally introduce Jahrae.

“Chsensera, this is…”

“She has already introduced herself!” Chsensera interrupted. And with that, the child threw her arms around llhaesa’s thighs, prompting laughter from the three adults.

Llhaesa bent at her knees, scooped the outgoing child into her arms, rose back to standing, and carted her off into the heart of their flat, the others following. Llhaesa chose to conduct a tour of the flat, showing their guests how they had decorated, the last two rooms were the newly constructed studio, and finally the living room.

The studio set Chsensera’s eyes to glowing, as she looked around and absorbed the fact of special acoustical tile on the walls and ceiling, numerous instruments neatly arranged, a mixing board, and countless other electronics. She was particularly impressed with the transparent front wall, and asked her mum if they could have a wall like this as well.

The last stop was the living space, dominated by the baby grand set towards the left front of the room, angled so the player might see others entering or moving about in the room. Llhaesa fell into her music, and arranging the sizeable instrument in any other way would leave her jumping every time someone touched her shoulder in greeting.

Llhaesa set Chsensera down gently and lovingly on the piano bench. “wowww” quietly emerged from the completely impressed child. Llhaesa reached out and lifted the keyboard lid, politely asked Chsensera to move over, and sat down next to her. Seated comfortably but a little off kilter from her usual place when playing, llhaesa mentally adjusted for the shift, then reached out with her hands, her fingers anticipating the touch of the keys well before they actually made contact.

Llhaesa paused, looked to Chsensera, and asked if she knew the song The Tree Is After Me, a song for children written centuries before, but which remained popular generation after generation for it was fun to sing and always triggered laughter.

Chsensera nodded affirmatively; llhaesa then asked if Chsensera would sing with her. Again an affirmative nod was sent back as reply, and so llhaesa began to play.

Standing off to the side with Jahrae, Khaehala marvelled on how llhaesa – even with a basic kid’s song – naturally moved her hands and fingers on the keyboard, as if the two were one. Khaehala had little doubt that the very gifted musician could easily play with her back to the keyboard (she was unaware that llhaesa occasionally did in fact play this way) or play whilst doing something totally different with one or the other hand.

The song finished, and everyone, including Chsensera and llhaesa, burst into applause.

After things quieted, llhaesa asked Chsensera if she was ready to learn. The child said nothing, and instead again wrapped her arms around the musician seated along side her, looking up and giving acknowledgement through the most timeless of affirmations – the trusting and enthusiastic smile of a child.