The lights of the Ashley house remained on long after the sun had gone down. It was nice to have it filled with such life again, just about everybody from the old team able to sit around, have dinner, and while away the rest of the night waiting for the morning to come. There was a sense of tension which overshadowed everything else, true, but it only slightly dampened the good spirits of the evening.

Rune and the other boys came back just before the day turned to twilight, then Chaz arrived carrying a few boxes half an hour after that, then Wren silently and coldly another hour after that, turning up when the stars came out. The girls already had the dinner prepared and it was enjoyed by all who possessed the ability to eat.

Demi was especially proud of the salad she had prepared all by herself, though Rika and Hahn seemed to be the only ones who ate a great deal of it. Rune, Chaz and Raja were unhealthy lumps who would only tough the meat wraps, until Rika very lovingly made Chaz eat a small portion of it. She reminded him a little too much of Alys sometimes.

Dinner conversation was vibrant, about what was going on in the world and who was doing what, what the future might hold and whether or not Chaz could pass his final exams. They all avoided the topic of Siren; that was an issue to be dealt with later on in the night. As darkness sealed itself around the house Rika and Demi were busy doing the dishes in the kitchen, Hahn was still at the table trying to compose a letter to his wife, Raja and Rune were playing a game of Castles and Chaz had gone back to his room. Wren was sitting on the couch and not doing much of anything at all.

He had been there for quite some time. There was nothing around for him to do. He didn't like it. Without any tasks for him to complete or any current responsibilities he was left with just himself waiting, reflecting. It put him slightly on edge and he could not figure out how the others were able to put Siren and the loss of Zelan out of their minds, as if it had never happened. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he was the only one aware of just how worryingly serious it was.

"So what do you think that ugly, ugly picture over there is a painting of?" Rune asked Raja as he moved one of his castles across the board to threaten the dezorian's already rickety fortifications. Everybody had noticed it even if they had been trying not to. It was like a little goblin which assaulted a person's senses the moment they stepped through the threshold.

Raja had lied about knowing absolutely nothing about the game they were playing. He had been dabbling in it on and off for the last sixty years. He was luring Rune into a clever trap and when his guard was down he would destroy him. It was hard to keep a straight poker face; he just wanted so badly to laugh. "Light, I don't know. Motavian art is nearly as bad as its fashion, ugly, ugly, and ugly. I think it might be a plate of fried eggs maybe?"

"It's not ugly! It's just unusual and misunderstood!" Rika called out from the kitchen, defending her special find. Beside her Demi was helpfully drying and putting away while she washed. "Also, the general consensus believes that it's a painting of a sunset."

Hahn looked up from his letter. He had several screwed-up balls of paper scattered all around him, half finished letters to his wife. The end of the pencil he was using had plenty of tooth marks in it. He wasn't quite sure how to explain to her that he was going into outer space soon to fight a killer robot with magical powers. Maybe he shouldn't write anything at all or make up an excuse instead. He didn't want his Saya to worry about him but he also needed to explain why he'd be out of touch for awhile.

The young scholar ran a hand through his hair and smiled. He had released it from its plait earlier and it hung loose and free down his back. Some people like his father said that growing his hair out had made him look weaker and more feminine, but women were really falling for long-haired men these days. He was just jumping onto the bandwagon with many others and he knew that Saya liked it too. Hahn stopped chewing on his pencil for a moment. "A sunset? I don't think so. I saw it in the hallway, looks more like a pair of sand newts mating to me."

Rune raised an eyebrow, listening to Hahn and also scrutinizing the position of his playing pieces on the board. Raja had suddenly made a move that the esper hadn't expected and now a branch of his defenses was cut off from the others. He had to think of a way to get it back again without risking too much of his remaining force. "Maybe it's like an ink blot test and we all just see what we want to see. For the record I think it looks like a village on fire."

The Lutz had been the only one to get their guess right. He made his move and put a crack into Raja's capture squad but had not anticipated just how hard the bishop could hit back. When he did Rune ground his teeth a little and tried to appear unconcerned, looking around for something else to focus his attention on. He found it, leaning back onto two legs on his chair and placing both arms behind his head. "What do you think it looks like, Wren?" He asked the android trying to keep to himself.

He glanced to the robed magician briefly, blankly, then looked away. He didn't see how that was relevant or even important. "I do not have an opinion." Wren answered quietly.

Ouch, cold. Eventually Rika and Demi finished up their business in the kitchen and Rune and Raja's castle game to a mediocre conclusion, namely, they were beginning to stalemate and both men got bored of the game. At some point Rika excused herself from her guests and slipped away to her room to check on Chaz. The youth was actually asleep on their bed, exhausted from all the work he had completed behind the scenes. His wound must have bothered or slowed him down, too.

Chaz was at his cutest when he was sleeping. It was as if the world could not touch him. Rika sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at her love. He worked himself way too hard because somewhere deep inside of himself he believed that he was still the leader. Of what exactly Rika didn't know, but probably everything. The war they had lived through three years ago had caused him to grow up way too fast and now he could not go back, all he could do was continue to push ahead.

Even when the darkness had been purged from their worlds there still existed cruelty. Rika thought that it was cruel, in a sense that neither of them had ever had a childhood. Their consolation was that right now, in the present they were both very happy. Rika sighed. She couldn't bear to wake him up when he looked so peaceful like that.

She had made her decision. She would ask Chaz to stay behind. Going into battle with a wound like that upon his shoulder and down along his sword arm would put him at risk. He wouldn't be able to fight like he used to and it could also affect the way he'd shield himself. Chaz had escaped from Siren's shot just barely last time; he wouldn't get that same kind of luck again.

This wasn't like three years ago when she and Chaz had only been friends. She couldn't risk Chaz's life over some silly android and worldship in the sky. It sounded kind of selfish she knew, but after giving so much in the Great War didn't she deserve that bit of selfishness now?

When she shifted her weight on the bed a little Chaz stirred. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, then offered a sleepy smile. He propped himself up on his good arm and rubbed the side of his neck lightly, stifling a yawn. "Hi Rika. Sorry I haven't been around much today, I've been busy. How's everybody doing?"

"They're all amusing themselves. It's getting late, soon we'll have to get together and plan out tomorrow before we go to bed. I still don't really know what we're going to do." For a moment they could faintly hear Raja laughing from the other side of the building. It reminded them that for once they were not all alone in the house. "Chaz, before we go and discuss that with the others I need to talk to you about something private, first."

"Just give me a minute to wake up properly, okay?" Chaz smiled as he sat up and stretched, sighing at how good it felt.

"Chaz," Rika told her fiancé seriously, "I don't want you to go with Rune and Wren tomorrow. I want you to stay here."

Maybe the demand was a little too blunt for him. He stopped and stared at her in mid-stretch, surprised. Rika wasn't pulling his leg, she meant every word that she said. Unexpectedly the blond hunter gave an ironic smile and a little laugh. She had taken the words right out of his mouth, but names reversed. He shook his head gently. "I was going to ask you the same. I don't want you to go either, but I have to go out there with the others. I'm the only swordsman they have."

"You're wounded." Rika announced gravely, laying a hand softly on Chaz's hurt shoulder for emphasis. The hunter hissed, wincing. If that felt bad then he needed to imagine what a sharp impact or a gunshot might feel like instead. "You've always been there when they've needed you, from the beginning to the very end. I have too. There needs to be a time when we can just sit it out and let the others take over, especially when we have so much to lose."

"It sounds reasonable enough but I just can't do that. I'd feel like I was letting all our friends down." He understood where she was coming from but he was an adult able to take care of himself. They had only just recently found their friends again, he'd never be able to forgive himself if he stood down and they got seriously injured or killed. Chaz took Rika's hand and squeezed. "I have to go."

"I can't come with you." Was all Rika could say to that.

"Are you afraid?" Chaz asked her. This was what he had spoken about with Rune. He wouldn't think any less of her for staying behind; she had fought enough. Heck, he wanted Rika to stay behind, she'd be all the more safer for it in the long run. It sounded hypocritical in reflection but he didn't care. Rika had retired from the hunter scene some time ago but to Chaz it was his entire life.

Rika studied her shoes. In order to admit it she couldn't look Chaz in the face. "I am, actually. I didn't think I'd have to fight ever again and I was comfortable with that. When I fought with you three years ago it was because I had nothing else in the world to lose save for my life. If I died in battle I would do it regretting nothing. Now, three years later I have everything to lose. You, myself and our future together that we worked so hard to create. How could I possibly put that in jeopardy now?"

"That just makes you normal. I could lose everything, so too could Rune and Raja. Hahn has a kid on the way but he's still coming with us to fight. I'm not trying to guilt you Rika, but I just want you to know that we're all scared equally, no one more than the other." He scooted over and put his arms around her, smiling and breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt Rika relax and lean back against him. "Stay here and be safe, but let me go to Zelan with the others. They need at least one of us by their side."

"You have to come back. You have to promise me that you'll come back." The girl told him, feeling her resolve slipping. She couldn't force Chaz to do anything he didn't want to do, all she could do was suggest it. He had already made up his mind and she had made up hers. Briefly they were going to have to split apart. If the worldship had never come they wouldn't have to do this, Rika experienced a bit of resentment toward all those people on board totally oblivious to all the trouble they were causing.

"I will. I promise." Chaz pledged to her earnestly, touching the side of her chin lightly with his index finger and then tilting it in his direction, resulting in a slight awkwardly placed but incredibly sweet kiss. She would have to trust him, trust that he was still the same accomplished fighter of three years ago. Having her to come back to was more than enough reason to try his best and return without a scratch. He'd be thinking of her always when they were apart.

Meanwhile, as one insecurity was being dealt with another one was creeping back up to the surface like oil upon water. Wren had stepped outside of the Ashley home for a little peace and quiet, and also to get away from Raja's incessant laugh. It was very dark but Rika had earlier lit a kerosene lamp by the front door, bathing the area around the house in a soft golden glow. It was like another world on the outside, calm and still. Wren greatly preferred it to the noise inside.

Crickets chirped out there in the darkness and the lamplight attracted the attention of certain moths. Once Wren had actually enjoyed the sound of crickets chirping in the night, though all he had now was a brief memory of that enjoyment. That tiny, usually unobtrusive sound meant that no enemies were out there in the shadows planning an attack. Wren folded his arms and thought, or processed, but he had already gone over everything earlier in the evening. Now he was just killing time.

Absently he removed the Waizz star from out of his inventory, turning it about slowly between his fingers. It was unfortunate that he had to retrieve the trinket from block C, along with unlocking any electronic seal what it did for himself personally was unlock a flood of bad memories. Well, not all of them had been bad, some had been quite good actually, but the intensity of the bad memories had bled through and infected one and all.

He knew that he was not as good a person as he outwardly seemed to be. Losing his emotion had crippled the bad part of him as well as the good, cutting his cruel streak short. All wrens had a cruel streak deep inside of them somewhere, Siren's was pronounced, his own was misplaced, and Warren's had been unhealthily repressed. Siren was perhaps the most honest wren-type that Wren had ever seen, he did not even try to hide a single thing about himself. Wren found that he could almost respect Siren for that.

Wren read the small inscription again on the back of the war medal. That was what irritated him so much about all this business with the worldship; it had forced him to dust one of the skeletons in his closet and get this Waizz star out of storage. It was heavy with spilled blood. During the war it'd be a rare moment when he'd see the warren-type not covered in blood of some description. The blood of enemies, of allies, patients… or victims. It didn't make much difference, he himself had been the same to a lesser extent; all walking around in blood.

Only he never snapped like his comrade had. Wren squeezed the war medal in his hand and even considered breaking it. What did it matter? But it was the only way he could get inside of the Alisa Three so he relented. He heard the door creak slightly as somebody stepped outside with him. Wren did not glance over to look. If it turned out to be Raja he would just move on to another locale again.

Thankfully it was not the loud, partially drunk bishop which turned up by his side. It was somebody shorter, smaller and a tad afraid. "Is it okay if I come out here, Master? I saw you leave and I wanted to talk with you. I can go if you don't feel like talking, though…" Demi murmured, not quite able to make a proper request when she thought her master was angry with her, the little girl holding onto the edges of the door with both her hands.

Half of her body was in the house, the other half outside, ready to go either way depending on how her master responded. Wren regarded her with an unreadable expression. "Please close the door, Demi. You will let in moths." He said.

She took that as a yes. She closed the door eagerly behind her and then realised she hadn't quite planned out what she was going to do or say next. Demi fidgeted for half a second then forced her hands to still, clasped at her front. Wren wasn't necessarily a hard person to talk to but it was Demi's anxiety which made it so. "I just wanted to know if you were mad at me for what happened on Zelan. I feel responsible for you being here against your wishes. Are you angry with me?"

"I do not get angry at anybody." Wren replied calmly, watching the shadows outside of the lamplight instead of the girl he was talking to. The crickets continued their little song. "I do wish you had obeyed my orders and boarded the Landale when you had the chance, but I can also see how you were torn between your orders and your concerns for my safety. You still have your emotions. I did not take that into account. You are a very loyal person."

"Because you made me this way." Demi pointed out, not quite appreciating the peace and quiet as much as her master did. There had been more than enough of that on Zelan for the past few years, what she wanted now was excitement and new experiences. That was also a product of Wren's programming too.

"Not exactly. I put you together, performed some behavioral manipulations, activated and raised you, but I did not in any way design who you are. Your identity came into being in a different manner." He managed to explain without actually giving anything away. Demi was nowhere near ready to know the truth. He himself regretted nosing around the truth in the first place. That was the problem with youth; it made one believe that they deserved to know everything. "… That is the reason why Mieus was a failure." He added after a moment of thought.

"Please don't bring her into this." Demi pleaded but knew it would do no good, she was the very heart of that particular matter. Wren wouldn't tell her the secret of creating artificial life and because of it she had forged an imperfect vessel, but that hadn't stopped Demi from loving her. She couldn't be blamed for how Mieus had turned out but the girl still felt guilt for it anyway. Demi did not take her own advice and persisted on the subject. "Rika was wandering around Zelan yesterday and accidentally found Mieus. She woke her up only for a minute or so before she became violent and had to be put to sleep again."

"Is that so." Wren answered noncommittally, his aloof attitude over what was so important to her beginning to irritate Demi. If he had pockets he'd probably put his hands in them, detecting his servant's suppressed irritation. Wren closed his eyes and relented. "You need to learn how to detach yourself from the bonds of others. You are an android, not a palman. I think it is very important for you to forget about the people who have betrayed you. Bury it, it is easier that way." And you might not ever have to give up your emotions someday, he added privately to himself.

"I can't do that. I'll always love Mieus even if she betrayed me. I know it might be hard for you to understand, but I can think no other way." She stated with an unwavering will. Actually, Wren thought that perhaps he could understand it, maybe. It was difficult, he was not as forgiving as his little counterpart. He could resent, he could nurse a grudge, and he could even hate, back in the days when those things actually mattered.

Demi was more like the people she had been modeled on, she was nothing like himself. He was very grateful for that. With Zelan out of his control she was the only thing he had left. The android turned to her and knelt down to her own height, placing a large hand on her diminutive shoulder. "I am going to tell you something that I have been meaning to tell you for quite some time. I will only say this once however, so please listen to me."

"Yes Master." Demi said obediently. She didn't know what he was going to say. Was he going to impart the secret of creating a true AI to her? If he did maybe they could go back and revive Mieus, give her a conscience and a soul. She could finally be the mieu-type she was meant to be, beautiful and kind.

But that was not what Wren told her; it was something else. It was not easy for him to say but he said it anyway. "I just wanted to tell you that I am very proud of you, Demi. I am glad you are who you are. I am glad you are my servant." But who was she, really? She was not yet ready to know.

It wasn't what she expected to hear but the little android girl smiled nonetheless. Praise from her master made serving him all the more worthwhile. She wanted to hug him and she almost came very close to doing just that, but propriety won through in the end. "Thank you. It means a lot to me, Master Wren." Demi replied, elated.

Wren opened his hand and showed her what was resting in his palm; the Waizz star. She was surprised that he still had it after all that had happened on the satellite Azura. He proffered it to her solemnly. "I would like it if you could hold onto this for me for a short while. I do not enjoy keeping it but it is an exceedingly valuable item and it needs to be kept safe. Will you mind this for me?"

He had shown this to her before. It was a very lovely and ancient-looking trinket, but she couldn't help but wonder why her master didn't want to hold onto it himself. It was just a little piece of microchipped metal. She didn't ask about it, she had more tact than that. Instead she reached out and took the star from his hand, weighing it in her own. Wow, this in itself was a piece of history from a very ancient time. "I'll keep it safe, I promise." She smiled. "You can trust me."

"I always do." Wren smiled back in a rare showing of attempted emotion.

That was the last time Wren and Demi were able to talk one-on-one, face-to-face for quite some time. It was a brief talk and neither of them had said what they truly wanted to say, or done what they truly wanted to do. They would regret it with time. In the present however their conversation was cut short when Rune opened the front door to look for the missing members of their team. Both androids glanced to him and Wren stood up from his crouch. "Hey, we're going to start planning out tomorrow now with Siren and Zelan and all that, so you'd better get back in here and come to the table. Chaz is gonna unveil his grand scheme or something."

"Sure! We'll be right there!" Demi beamed with such happy cheer that it almost outshone the lamplight. Rune blinked once and then smiled himself. Good to see that at least somebody was still optimistic amidst all the bullshit that was going on.

The two of them followed Rune inside with Demi very reverently placing the Waizz star into her inventory for safekeeping. For the next few hours all the way until midnight and beyond the seven protectors of the Algo star system outlined their assault on Zelan, what to do, what not to do, and thinking of any little piece of useful information that they could. Chaz tried to control the brainstorming session himself but it was becoming increasingly apparent that a new leader was taking the reins away from him, for the way he spoke and planned and acted.

He did not know it yet, but the reverent Lutz was the one destined to lead them all into darkness, with no hope of salvation. He was going to hold them all together, but he was also about to tear them apart.

And as the night slept, eventually so did they. It was a very big, fateful day for them tomorrow.

Had they known the outcome none of them would have slept at all.

†††

On the morning of his execution it was to be a gloriously sunny day. He had been led out, heavily handcuffed from the maximum security prison to the shooting grounds, where empty shell casings littered the dirt and the opposing stone wall was pocked with bullet holes. Six men were waiting for him in the courtyard, two of them were androids, and one he knew. All of them were carrying executioner rifles. His firing squad.

A night in solitary hadn't done much to prepare him for his own imminent death, but he had been rotting in prison long enough and he was thoroughly sick of it. The newborn sun felt warm and inviting on his face, a welcome change from the cold stagnation of the cells. The guards led him roughly to where he was meant to stand but because they were small in comparison they could not really shove him around that much.

He supposed that if he really put his heart into it he could shatter the cuffs binding his wrists together, knock out the guards and try to make a run for it. This seemed like a good idea, only that he'd be gunned down by the firing squad or the snipers he knew were posted on the roof of the prison. He couldn't run from this any longer, he had to calmly and bravely go off and accept his fate. He had betrayed his government, lied, schemed and murdered his way to where he was now. It was a fitting ending for somebody like him, who used to have everything and now only had nothing, save for a bullet with his name on it.

But Mother Brain, rest her soul, he was absolutely terrified. Warren looked up at the squad and maintained his gaze on Forren, standing in the middle of the gunmen. He didn't want to break eye contact with him until he was no longer able to, he needed something real to focus upon. Forren looked back at him coldly. He'd probably be promoted to a full colonel for this, for executing a major enemy of the last government Algo had left, pardon the pun.

It was like the five-year friendship they had shared during the service never had happened. The guards herded him to the rough 'x' mark scratched into the ground and when Warren finally stood there it all became apparent to him, that he would never move from this spot ever again, see another sunrise or another sunset, and never, ever serve his purpose again. He thought he should be trembling over what was about to happen, but along with the terror settling in within his mind he also felt a deep profound sense of calm.

After this it would be all over. His stupid life would end and with it, eventually, the war. If he told himself that it would be easier to bear. The two guards at either side of him took a step away and awaited further orders. Their smart blue-grey uniforms were clean and sharp, as this was a little beyond their usual duties and they needed to appear presentable. Warren waited peacefully to see what was next.

Lieutenant colonel Forren had managed to assign himself as both commander of the firing squad and as a general shooter. They had nothing personal to say out loud to one another, that had already been taken care of the night before. The dark haired wren-type signaled for total silence and announced their prisoner's final sentence and judgement.

"Major Warren McCulloch wren-type six hundred and eighty three, for your crimes against the military and the motavian people, for treason, sedition, acts of terrorism, identity fraud, information leakage and murder of the second degree, I, Lieutenant Colonel Forren do so sentence you to death by firing squad."

He said all this rather impartially but the major could sense animosity within. He had heard all this stuff before, he just wanted to get on with it. One of the guards at his side seemed a little wary of touching him, but she removed a black cloth blindfold from her pocket anyway and placed a hand against the crook of his arm. "Any last requests, like a cigarette or something? I don't know what your sort wants just before you die."

Warren didn't look at the guard speaking to him, keeping his gaze on the six armed men. If he broke eye contact with them just for a second he was afraid they might shoot him while he wasn't looking. "No thanks; I don't smoke. What I would like though would be a hasty pardon and release, so lets just forget this ever happened, okay?" He smiled encouragingly despite asking for the impossible.

The guard laughed, but not necessarily at the android. Just about everybody in the third branch knew who he was, it was a shame things had turned out in this way. She shook her head. "Can't do that, unfortunately. All I can offer is this blindfold. Lean down, I'll put it on you."

The android refused. "No. I don't want a blindfold." He gave a knowing smile to the lieutenant colonel currently on duty. He knew that during an execution only one bullet in six rifles was live, the other five were blanks. This was common practice to spare the gunmen the guilt of murder, but Warren was fairly certain he knew exactly who was carrying the live gun right now. He chuckled, feeling remarkably serene. Even the fear had faded now.

"It's in the regulations that the condemned must always wear a blindfold. It's for the gunmen's benefit rather than your own, they can't just shoot a man watching them, major!" The guard protested firmly. As far as she was concerned the prisoner didn't have a choice in the matter. The soldier looked to the commander for guidance. He was an officer too, perhaps he could help.

For a moment Warren suppressed his kind, good-natured personality and spoke with a cold amused grimness that was completely unlike him. What did it matter anymore? Soon he would be dead. There was no reason to be considerate when they were discussing his death. "No blindfold. I want to watch Forren's face as he shoots me. I want him to always remember what he's about to do. I outrank you soldier so you will do as I say."

It was his execution and he was determined to have it carried out his own way. The military was going to cover up this shooting as best as was possible, but because there was so much public interest in this affair it was going to receive at least some media attention. It was important not to make the government seem like a despotic organization, especially in highly volatile times such as these. Forren consented. "Alright, it won't hurt to bend the rules just this once. Let it go, Cassie."

Cassie let it go. She was just glad she wasn't one of the members of the firing squad. She was merely a lowly guard and wasn't used to shooting people just yet, but if the news from the front lines continued to worsen any more she might find herself on the battlefield soon enough. "Any last words from the condemned?" She asked, herself and her partner wisely moving out of the line of fire. Warren stayed where he was, he didn't move.

At least he was obedient even if he was difficult. The major thought about it solemnly. His last words… he should try to say something good, meaningful. "It's probably pointless to say this now because I've said it hundreds of times before, but I'm sorry for what I've done. I'm sorry. I was only trying to help. I don't regret it however; I never will. You are all just dogs of the military and the rebels will destroy you."

"May the Light have mercy on your soul." Forren intoned as if he hadn't heard Warren's declaration at all. Nothing that the major said matter anymore because he had gone crazy long ago. He had seen the psychiatric evaluations issued from the prison. He had been a dog of the military himself, so the kindest thing they could do for him now was to put him down. He raised the rifle and braced it against his shoulder, clearing the bolt. "Soldiers! On my count! Ready!"

The other five gunmen followed him and copied his movements perfectly. Most of them were palmans but they moved with a mechanical kind of synchronization, drilled into them through intense military training. This was it.

The male guard was playing a drum, he barely heard it over the softer rattling and clicks of the weaponry being readied. Warren bowed his head despite Forren's express instructions to hold it up high. It all came rushing back to him now, the fear he'd thought he'd overcome to make peace with the rest of the universe. He was paralyzed with fear, he was terrified, and he was not ready to die just yet!

"Aim!" Forren barked and sighted down along the gun, locking onto his target. The others smoothly followed suit. Their target had started to tremble. That was good, he wanted Warren to understand what he had done and what his meddling was about to do. He heard the condemned whimper quietly, which was both not a machinelike and military thing to do. At the last moment he altered his aim from the others, aiming up, aiming high.

Warren heard a voice in his head. It was Forren's, speaking in the private computational language that only androids could understand and hear. It was a private message and though Warren didn't think his figurative heart could sink any lower, it did.

// "Death is too good for you. I will never let you find peace." // He said.

// "No-" // Warren began to plead.

"Fire!" Came the answering shout and all six gunmen shot at him, but only one bullet hit its mark. One moment the golden android was standing and the next he was on the ground in the dirt, pieces of his skull and sensory equipment strewn all around the body, and a dark pool of artificial android blood leaking from the wound. He didn't move. His death had been instantaneous.

He had not even felt the initial sting of the shot. Warren heard the crack of the guns and then everything had gone dark, silent, numb, still. It was as if a black wind had rushed straight through him. From that point on there was no pain, no passing of time as he knew it, only a relentless eternity sealed within a single second of forever. A single second that ultimately lasted for a thousand lonely, lonely years.

Warren looked away from the small circular window revealing the empty void of space. The view of the dark and the thin pinpoints of light reminded him of his prison, so he couldn't help but think of that time when he had been locked away. Suffering vivid flashbacks was normal for somebody like him, who had had nothing for such a long amount of time. The past was the past, but for now he had nothing else.

Breaking into the dormitory area of Zelan was easy. He knew where he was, what he needed and exactly where he had to go. Mieus had told him that it wasn't acceptable to meet the layans without a handheld weapon and she had ordered him to find one, because there was sure to be more than just guns lying about on the space station. She had gotten sick of being the wren-types delivery girl so Warren had gone to search all on his own.

But he already knew what he was looking for. Warren felt bad about breaking into somebody else's room but at least it wasn't a stranger's room, and the owner shouldn't mind. All about him was a chaotic jumble he was very familiar with, preserved like an ancient forgotten fossil. Doc Zonderling's room.

Before his execution he had sent a message to the old doctor just to explain to him that he was alright and that everything would be okay. He didn't know if it had even gotten out of the prison though, correspondence with the outside world was strictly forbidden. Warren spent some time just studying the area. The old man who had lived here was just about the only government servant who would ever call him 'doctor' to his face.

Colleagues or something he had said they were, despite most of their time spent on chess and cards. Funny, it seemed like somebody had been staying here recently. Probably the layans. It was unlikely the old doctor was still alive after so many years. Warren ransacked the place respectfully with as much care as he could muster. There were plenty of books and clothes and tools and chemicals and such all over the place, there was even a pair of trousers in the freezer. The major laughed when he found it, this was certainly the Doc's room all right!

He also found plenty of medical supplies scattered all over the place, originally from the infirmary. Instead of passing it over for other things Warren gathered the supplies and tools together, packing it into an empty medical bag he found stuffed under the bed. He didn't quite understand why he was doing something like this, only that he was a doctor himself and you never knew when first aid might be needed. It helped to be prepared. He slung the bag over one shoulder and continued the search.

What he was looking for was, in retrospect, not very hard to find. Most people liked to hide things like money or dirty magazines in-between their mattresses, which should make it the very first place where a palman would think to look, but Warren was not a palman. When he finally searched the mattresses the annoying lump that had briefly bothered Rika in the night was explained. From the bed Warren drew a sword.

The doctor had been very proud of that sword. It was something from his youth or something that had been passed down along his family line, so it was strange that it was still there after all this time. Nothing was missing, as if the resident of this room had been suddenly abducted in the night. The sword was beautiful nevertheless, lovely in its simplicity.

It was missing the scabbard though, but that was alright. Warren made a few experimental swipes in the air with it and it felt fine. It wasn't too heavy, it was pretty light actually. He didn't know the first thing about using a sword for a weapon but it didn't seem like there was much to it. He saw it as only a very large scalpel serving the very same purpose; cutting things apart. He could be comfortable with that.

The android smiled and silently thanked the old doctor for the sword. He would take very good care of it. In time, perhaps this weapon proficiency would replace the firearms files he had lost. He didn't really want to take up a gun again anyway, not after what a bullet had last done to his face.

The title Warren was merely a truncation of the term Warrior Wren, though he had never really felt much like one. His focus was purely offensive while his master Siren focussed on stealth, and old Forren from so long ago had been defense-oriented. He was not especially good at anything save for a heightened aptitude for learning. It was a skill he had used more often in peacetime than in war.

He had a feeling he was missing something regarding the death of Zelan. If Doc Zonderling had just packed up and gone to his next research assignment somewhere else he would have taken all his stuff with him. It was a mystery.

What had the layans done?

The sword wouldn't fit into the medical bag so he had to keep it on hand with him. It had only been about an hour but he already missed Mieus. He felt uneasy when she was not around to reinforce the idea that he was still alive. He decided to go look for her now, she was probably there with her master on the main control bridge, chatting to him like a little bird while he mostly ignored her.

As he left the room and almost tomb of his old friend Warren thought back to his own moment of death. He had a question on his mind that he'd most likely never hear the answer to because so much time had passed. Had his execution been knowingly botched? Had the dreadful anomaly remained undetected, or suppressed? Had Forren missed his target on purpose?

Was the colonel truly responsible for his thousand-year sentence to utter torment and madness?

Death is too good for you. I will never let you find peace.

…

He didn't think he'd ever know the truth now, not anymore. A part of him felt deeply grateful for that.