PART 3 - Dawnracer
by V. Wildeber, 26 February 1999

They left early in the morning, their uniforms dry and freshly cleaned. Lenell had even polished their boots for them -- an unexpected touch. He had refused payment, and they had refused breakfast. Eventually, Lenell gave in and accepted the credits, promising to put them in the temple charity fund. Only then would the warriors eat.

Not far down the road, a worker pulled over his shuttle and asked if they needed a ride. "Do you often give rides to warriors?," Neroon asked, amused.

"No," the worker admitted. "But you two met the description. You're the winter dawnracers." His plain face lit up sheepishly, as if he had said more than he was supposed to.

He carried them all the way to Sher'lav, dropping them off just outside the city. As they watched his shuttle fade into the distance, Shukran remarked, "Buriik is amazing. He can't just be a foreman."

Neroon shook his head. "I'm beginning to believe you're right. He's probably wondering the same thing about us, too."

They turned and headed for the city. This was an area heavily populated by the warrior caste -- there was no need to seek out an inn here.

The first compound they saw flew the flag of the MoonShields. Neroon and Shukran hadn't even reached the gate before a child came running out to meet them and invite them in. The warriors were just sitting down to their noon meal, and were pleased to set out two more plates.

"In the name of the MoonShields, you are welcome, travelers, to our home. I am Raslain, and this is Valear. I believe you have already met our daughter, Dannat." The speaker wore the cord of a Sech across his broad chest. His wife's cord showed her to be an instructor, also. He then began introductions of the half-dozen or so trainees at the table.

As they ate, the conversation revolved mostly around the MoonShield training site where Sechs Raslain and Valear instructed. The trainees were silent unless addressed directly, but it was obvious they were fairly bursting with curiosity about the newcomers. Since Neroon and Shukran didn't volunteer any personal information, the students stayed curious.

Raslain and Valear did not push the matter, but Neroon could not help but notice the curious glances their hosts kept giving them. Finally, after Dannat and the trainees had left the table, Raslain remarked, casually, "I don't suppose you think anyone around here believes that you are in your actual uniforms, do you?"

The StarRider did not immediately respond, but swirled the last of his tea in the bottom of his cup, then smiled, caught. "No, it wouldn't do to have one of your trainees call down the wrath of our clans by accidentally insulting us." He inclined his head politely. "I am the Shai Alyt of the warcruiser Ingata, and Shukran is my aide. We are here on a much-needed visit."

Valear laughed. "You're collecting, I'd say." Then she indicated a console on the wall. "The Quartermaster can have new uniforms ready in less than an hour. Just submit your sizes and proficiency ratings."

Shukran pushed away from the table and went over to the console to begin punching in the requirements. Out the window, she saw Dannat sitting on the porch step, looking disconsolate as she watched the young warriors return to their training. Finished with the order, Shukran stepped out onto the porch.

"How long before you you're old enough to go to clan training, Dannat?"

The girl frowned and kicked her feet out in frustration. "Too long."

Shukran stepped off the porch, leaned over, and picked up two rocks. She hefted them both in her hands for a moment, then threw one high into the air. Waiting a couple of seconds, she fired off the second rock, hitting the first and sending it spinning off into a new direction. As she had expected, that got the attention of the youngster.

The noise of rocks cracking together brought Neroon and his hosts over to the window. "Tell me about what has been going on here on Minbar. I have been out among the stars far too long."

Sech Valear began, "I'm sure you know that the WindSwords have returned, now that it is almost time to select a new caste leader." She glanced over at her husband, who was studiously watching their daughter throw rocks.

Neroon looked from Valear to Raslain and back. "So I've heard. How seriously do you think anyone is taking Shakiri?"

Sech Raslain snorted. "The WindSwords are fully behind him, of course. He has stirred up quite a following among several of the clans. Many among our caste have come to openly despise the religious caste for ordering us to surrender at the moment of our victory."

"I agree that it was a ridiculous order. But, as I recall, there were three warriors on the Grey Council at the time. It was not the religious caste alone who make the decision."

"And therein lies part of our problem." Raslain shook his head and went back to staring out the window.

His wife continued for him. "The obvious choice for Shai Alyt of our caste is Morann. He served on the Grey Council with Dukhat himself. However, that is part of the reason Shakiri and the others will not support him. They say he is suspect, since he gave our caste the surrender order." She wrinkled her nose slightly in distaste. "And he worked closely with Delenn."

"You must admit, though. Shakiri makes a lot of sense. He is against using the warrior caste to fight battles for anything other than practical gain. None of this Holy War nonsense." Raslain sighed and turned again to the window in time to see Shukran fire off two quick shots in succession, knocking two rocks out of the sky. He smiled, "Your aide is a good shot."

A dark-clad deliveryman approached the gate bearing their new uniforms in a large bundle. Shukran met him halfway up the walk and relieved him of his load, shouldering it and bringing it into the house.

Sech Raslain pointed her to a spare room, then turned to Neroon. "I would be honored if you would come inspect training this afternoon -- after you change."

Neroon finished dressing and watched the young FireWing struggle with her cord. The triple-strand braid of deep blue reserved for gunners was interlaced with the gold and black strands denoting her proficiency ratings. Loosely wrapped around the whole was the single gold cord of an aide or an Alyt.

Rank cords were optional wear onboard warcruisers, since everyone in the crew knew everyone else's rank and proficiency ratings. The officers of the Ingata never bothered with them except for off-ship missions or special occasions. Cords might be a venerable part of the uniform, but certainly were a bother to fit properly. Neroon reached over and helped her fasten it under her epaulettes and the hood of her cloak, then stepped back to inspect his work. It still wasn't hanging quite right. As he adjusted the cord again, he noticed for the first time that it matched her eyes.

The next morning, they had all risen well before dawn to attend one of the early morning training sessions. As they oversaw the young warriors drilling on the flight simulators, Neroon and Raslain sipped steaming cups of tea and chatted casually.

"If I could impose upon you, Neroon, my students could use some pike training from a master like yourself. Ever since the purity of the Anla'Shok was diluted with worker caste and Earther blood, none of our young warriors have trained under Sech Durhan." Raslain snorted and thrust his chin out angrily as he continued. "When our exalted leadership decided to forbid any warrior from joining this new Anla'Shok, they neglected to think of the consequences. We're raising an entire generation of warriors who have not trained under the F'hursna Sech!"

Neroon shook his head slowly. As per tradition, each year, the most promising of the trainees from each of the warrior clans would undergo Anla'Shok training immediately following graduation from clan training, just prior to their first warcruiser assignment. They were not inducted as Rangers, of course -- they would not be eligible until they had attained their first proficiency rank. After ranking, a few of them would indeed return to Tuzanor to take the oath and become Anla'Shok. Most, like Neroon, did not. This system ensured that, if required, the Anla'Shok could be brought up to full military strength on short notice, since the finest warriors of each clan had undergone the training. By order of the caste leaders, this year, for the first time in almost one thousand years, no warriors had trained at Tuzanor.

"Of course, Raslain. I would be honored at the opportunity to work with some of your students." He bowed graciously to his host and smiled, genuinely looking forward to the training ahead.

"Good. And since your aide is a Senior Gunner..." The MoonShield glanced at Shukran, then looked hopefully at Neroon.

Shukran brightened at his words, and Neroon couldn't help grinning. He reached out and cuffed her affectionately across the headbone. "I'm sure she would be more than happy to help."

There was a warm familiarity in living with these warriors. Buriik and the workers had been gracious and kind, sharing openly of all they had with their guests, but Neroon and Shukran had still felt like guests the entire time. Now they were treated like family.

Neroon realized just how much he had missed being planetside, and being able to enjoy the simple pleasures of life on Minbar. This visit was a welcome change from the tedious life aboard the Grey Council cruiser. He had returned to the planet several times in the past year, but those visits were all rather tense and unpleasant ones.

The past two weeks he and Shukran had spent together on Minbar had been more like a vacation. Tasting fresh fruit; inhaling the pungent smells of grass and loam, flowers and trees; feeling cold and warmth and even soaking rain; seeing the sunrise and the moons rise; hearing birdsongs -- all these things had been merely memories for too long. It was good to experience life with all the senses again.

But they still had one last stop to make on their trip -- Tuzanor, to visit Sech Durhan and the Anla'Shok.

Sech Valear had arranged for one of the trainees to fly them to Tuzanor. Dannat had insisted upon accompanying them, and had served as self-appointed tourguide, pointing out all the sites of interest along the way. When they disembarked, the child had looked absolutely miserable. Neroon watched as his aide knelt to give the girl a hug. Then Shukran made a face at the child, causing her to laugh, and they said goodbye.

Tuzanor, far from the capitol city of Yedor, still retained its rural roots. They entered the Ranger training compound without stopping and proceeded straight to the weapons training area. The Anla'Shok at the gate had not attempted to halt them, but had merely saluted and stepped out of their way. Neroon was certain that their presence had been reported to Sinclair. He did not care. His business was with Sech Durhan, not with the Earther.

They found the stout old warrior in the main gymnasium, circling a mixed group of Earther and Minbari Rangers as they sparred. The two warriors stood quietly beside a pillar and watched the master drill his students. To Neroon's surprise, they showed promise. Even the Earthers in the group were holding their own. Of course, they were only sparring with ex-priests and workers, but still, they fought well enough.

Durhan's eyes lit up when he noticed the black-clad figures. It had been a long time since full armor had been seen in Tuzanor. Durhan deeply felt the loss of his fellow warriors from the ranks of the Anla'Shok. He had privately grieved when the clans had not sent their most promising young warriors to him this year. But now, to see Neroon here, obviously on a private visit, did his old heart good.

"Enough!," he roared out to his students in mock irritability. "You are dismissed." The group parted as he strode through them on a direct course to his favorite former pupil.

"Neroon!" The old man clapped the StarRider on the shoulders, a look of joy on his round face. Neroon beamed at the warm greeting. He dearly loved his old teacher, and remembered his days here with fondness.

"F'hursna Sech Durhan -- it is good to see you again."

Smiling warmly, Durhan reached out his hand to Shukran in blessing. "And who is your young Alyt? You haven't gone and promoted that scoundrel Durell, have you?"

Neroon laughed. "No, Sech Durhan. Durell is still my Alyt -- and he sends his regards and his deepest respect. Shukran is my aide."

The three warriors left the gymnasium and strolled out onto the grounds. Durhan took them through all the classrooms and training fields, showing them Anla'Shok at each level of training. The men did not speak much, but simply watched. Slowly, grudgingly, Neroon recognized that the Rangers were becoming a true military force, and one to be reckoned with. It did not sit well with him; but it was the truth, and the truth could not be ignored.

Durhan completed their tour and brought them to a quiet grove overlooking the practice fields. Under a wide-spreading tree, the men sat on an ornately carved stone bench. Shukran remained standing a short distance off, ever alert and watchful, her armor rendering her almost invisible among the trees. This was her first time to visit Tuzanor. She had not been among the group of FireWings selected from her class to attend Anla'Shok training. All in all, it had not worked out badly. Although she did not learn the pike from the F'hursna Sech himself, she had trained under his star pupil - the StarRider Neroon.

"I will come directly to the point, Sech Durhan. The Rangers are no longer simply gathering intelligence, but have become a military force again, and are diverting large portions of the Minbari workforce to support it. It no longer appears that Sinclair is leading an organization of mostly Earthers, as was the case when we agreed to his appointment."

"And the warrior caste ordered all its members to resign -- effectively turning an elite military unit over to civilian control." Durhan looked pointedly at his friend, then continued drily, "So who among our caste can complain if the religious caste and workers fill our vacant ranks? The Humans -- they prefer to be called that -- have done far better than I expected. I did not have high hopes for them at first, but they have surprised me. Physically, they are not as strong as we are; but I have discovered they have other strengths from which we can benefit." He laughed. "Their attrition rate is actually a little lower than the religious caste rate."

Neroon snorted.

"And the worker caste..." Durhan smiled and flicked a leaf off his mottled surcoat. "The workers have the highest retention rate of all -- even higher than the warriors had." He indicated a group of Rangers going through an obstacle course on the far training field. "They are strong, disciplined, and eager to serve. And they are determined to prove they can succeed. I hate to admit it, but Sinclair was right in wanting to include them."

The younger man glared down at his boot for a moment, then growled, "It pains me to say it, but Jenimer was right in wanting Sinclair inducted as Entil'Zha. He has qualities I would expect to see only in a Minbari." Neroon then shook his head and muttered, "And thank Valen he doesn't believe the religious caste drivel about the transference of our souls. He has that much common sense, at least."

Durhan reached out and fondly cuffed Neroon across the headbone. He had long hoped that this warrior, his favorite pupil and the finest denn'bok master he had ever trained, would follow him as F'hursna Sech of the Anla'Shok. However, he doubted it would ever happen now.

"The threat is real, Neroon. Our old enemies are rising, and both the warrior caste and Grey Council refuse to see it. If we are to succeed, we must have the support of the warriors. You must help them to see."

The old Minbari stood and stretched, then patted his stout middle. He had long ago learned when to end a discussion. "Come, Neroon! We've been sitting about entirely too long. I haven't had a decent opponent in ages." He drew his fighting pike and saluted.

Neroon leapt to his feet, denn'bok in hand, and bared his teeth in mock ferocity. He returned the salute, and they began.

Shukran was not surprised at the interest this generated among the Anla'Shok. They appeared from everywhere, Minbari and Humans alike, standing in small groups and whispering among themselves as they watched the pikemasters spar. Durhan and Neroon circled and feinted, parried and thrust in a deadly dance of nerves. The harsh clang of metal on metal proved they were not pulling their blows, but were landing their hits full-strength. Fortunately, neither of them was able to penetrate the other's defense and land body blows.

He was enjoying himself immensely. After a while, though, Neroon was disturbed to notice that Durhan's blows were landing a little less heavily on his pike. He felt a twinge of sadness as he realized his old mentor was beginning to tire. The StarRider lunged, a standard move that Durhan could have parried in his sleep. But the old Minbari didn't get his pike up in time. Horrified, Neroon drug his trail toe in the dirt to slow himself down. The extra second was all Durhan needed to make his parry, and to riposte smartly, striking Neroon in the ribs.

A cheer rose from the Anla'Shok. None of them had seen Neroon's intentional hesitation. Shukran, however, had spotted the move, and it concerned her. She called over the nearest Ranger and ordered him to fetch some tea, then turned quickly back to the match.

The Ranger, a religious caste recruit, stood shocked for a moment, appalled that a warrior would be so arrogant as to give him an order and then turn away in obvious assumption that it would be carried out. He was startled to hear a deep, familiar voice sounding softly in his ear. "The Alyt has made a request. It is a logical and considerate request to make, is it not? Would you deny the F'hursna Sech and his guest some refreshment after their match?"

The Ranger blinked at Entil'Zha, then bowed deeply, his face flushed in embarrassment. "No, Entil'Zha. I mean, yes, of course, Entil'Zha." He looked up helplessly for a moment, then bolted.

Sinclair walked up to the small warrior and stood beside her. She glanced up at him, then resumed watching the two old friends spar. She stood impassively, balanced and wary, appearing to ignore him. Sinclair smiled, quite certain that the woman was very much aware of everything going on around her. From her uniform, the Alyt was a Senior Gunner and highly ranked pilot. She was about Delenn's size, a bit shorter, perhaps -- sleeker, leaner, and harder looking, with the defiantly spiked headbone of her caste, but with surprisingly delicate features he had never seen in a warrior. Without the attitude and the headbone, she could easily be a relative of Delenn. He bit back a laugh at the thought, certain that Shai Alyt Neroon would not see the humor in it.

The trainee returned, breathless, with a pot of tea and some cups. He regained his composure enough to set everything down neatly on the bench and disappear into the crowd, as far away from Shukran and Sinclair as he could manage.

Although he was sure that none of the trainees had noticed that Durhan was slowing down, Neroon was beginning to wonder how he could stop the match with grace. When he saw the tea arrive, he shot a thankful glance at his aide, and immediately took a couple of steps back. Bowing graciously, Neroon spoke, his deep voice almost melodic. "De farhurst, F'hursna Sech Durhan. I yield to your authority." A deafening cheer rang out from the Anla'Shok.

Durhan bowed in return, and reached out to his friend in blessing. The Rangers stood in respectful silence as each warrior laid his hand upon the other's heart, then bowed to touch foreheads together. Neroon gently took the older man's arm and walked with him to the bench. From somewhere in the crowd, an instructor cleared his throat loudly, and the Rangers quickly dispersed, leaving only the three warriors and Sinclair.

As Durhan poured the tea, Sinclair noticed with embarrassment that there were only three cups. But this oversight, which would have thrown the religious caste into a frenzy, did not seem to faze the warriors in the least. Durhan and Neroon each took a cup, and proceeded to drink, skipping at least four rituals that Sinclair could think of. Neroon and the young woman shared a cup with the easy familiarity of soldiers used to making do. Sinclair took the third cup, chiding himself for worrying about it.

The Human stood a couple of inches taller than Neroon, but lacked the Minbari's breadth of chest and shoulder. The Shai Alyt wore the cord of a fighter pilot - a heavy braid of twin crimson and one green, thickly interlaced with gold and black strands denoting proficiencies in who knows what. Over the whole looped the double gold cord of a warcruiser commander. Sinclair was irritated that Neroon had spent most of the day at the compound without bothering to let him know -- but he was determined not to let the Minbari get to him. "Shai Alyt Neroon, you were quite impressive with the pike."

The StarRider simply nodded, deigning not to comment on such a statement of the obvious. Durhan, however, chose not to let the comment rest. Pride was evident in his voice as he laid his hand on Neroon's epaulette. "Neroon is the finest denn'bok fighter alive today."

Sinclair looked back at Neroon, expecting the warrior to be basking in pride at the high compliment. He was surprised to see that the Shai Alyt's usually stern features had softened. The Minbari actually looked sad for a fleeting moment; then, tossing back his tea, he regained his normal expression. Neroon refilled his cup and swirled the liquid around to cool it.

Durhan spoke again, a rumbling sound from deep within his chest. "And you, Shukran. I would be remiss if I allowed you to depart Tuzanor without first demonstrating to me your skill with the pike. You will report to me in the main gymnasium tonight after supper."

The young woman saluted crisply and proudly, head held high. The joy evident in her expression brought smiles to Durhan's and Neroon's faces.

Sinclair had never seen this side to the Minbari. He was most often surrounded by stiff, punctilious religious castemembers who were big on bowing and scraping, but would never display this kind of open affection. He had established a tenuous relationship at best with Neroon, but respected him as a man of absolute integrity who said what he felt and pulled no punches. From what he had seen, the warrior caste seemed to relate to life in a very personal manner, refreshingly direct, in contrast with the religious caste. He resolved to get to know the caste better.

"What brings you to Tuzanor, Shai Alyt Neroon?" Sinclair knew very well that Neroon was Satai, but chose to use his military title out of respect for the sensitivity the Minbari people had regarding the Grey Council.

"I came to see your progress with the Anla'Shok. Do not think that the warrior caste has no interest in the matter. You continue here at the discretion of the Grey Council." The words held a thinly veiled threat.

"And what have you found?" Sinclair tried to keep the edge off his voice.

Neroon flared his nostrils ever so slightly at the challenge. Beside him, the young warrior reflexively shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.

"I have no love for Humans, Entil'Zha." He emphasized the title in a tone that was just a shade short of mocking. "But F'hursna Sech Durhan has assured me that the Earther Rangers have not displeased him."

Sinclair decided to take the faint praise as approval. "Good! I'm confident that all of the Anla'Shok will continue to exceed your expectations. And I look forward to seeing you on your future visits here." His tone left no doubt that he did not appreciate Neroon marching onto the training site without the courtesy of announcing himself to Sinclair first.

Neroon stared blandly back, the familiar expression of contempt beginning to creep across his face.

"And now, if you will excuse me, I must go. Please, make yourself at home here." Sinclair set down his tea, now cold, and inclined his head to the warriors, then headed for his next appointment.

As they watched the Human leave, Durhan turned to Neroon and prodded him gently. "You were rude to him."

"He is insolent."

The older Minbari smiled slowly and poured himself another cup of tea. "Whether or not he holds the soul of a Minbari, he does act like one at times. He most often reminds me of the warrior caste -- and of you in particular. True, you have none of the mystic in you that he sometimes shows, but then he was educated by priests. Somehow, he can relate to all the castes. There is even in him, unlike you, a small part which seems worker."

Neroon removed his glove and inspected his smashed fingernail. It was beginning to heal, but still hurt. "You would be surprised, Sech Durhan..."

Chimes sounded from across the compound. Durhan rose and excused himself. "Duty calls. I will see you at supper." As he passed Shukran, he laid his hand on her shoulder. "After supper, Shukran. Remember your lesson."

The two warriors continued to stroll the grounds, watching training. At one point, they were sure they had seen Tohr, but he was too far away to recognize them. Neroon spun countless stories of his time spent here after graduating from StarRider clan training. It was a time of joy and adventure for him, and reflected in his face. Mischievously, he chose to execute his punchlines on Shukran sotto voice, usually in the most inappropriate locations. Eyes gleaming, he watched as she labored to maintain a stern expression in front of the Ranger trainees.

On the rare occasion that he relaxed completely, Neroon showed his playful nature that was so carefully hidden beneath years of discipline and heavy responsibility. He was much younger than he appeared, but few were able to see through to his true self. Here at Tuzanor, with Durhan and all the memories stored here, Neroon again looked young.

After supper, the two warriors made their way to the gymnasium. While they waited for Sech Durhan, Neroon stopped by the medic's room, in the back of the building, past the weights. The ancient medic strapped a poultice onto his bruised ribs and began a monotone lecture about continued care. Neroon thanked him politely, then left him in mid-sentence.

By the time he returned, Durhan had already begun the lesson with Shukran. The Shai Alyt stood by a pillar and watched as the old man worked with his aide. She was skilled with the pike -- Branmer and Neroon had made sure of that -- but she had an unorthodox style suited to her small stature and short reach. Sech Durhan noted the difference right away, and seemed pleased to see it.

The master teacher worked with Shukran for over two hours, far longer than he usually spent with a student. When he was done, he reached out to her in blessing, then leaned over her to whisper something in her ear. Neroon saw her smile, the color rising in her cheeks, and wondered what the old warrior had told her.

They walked together out into the quiet moonlit night. Most of the Anla'Shok were back at their barracks by now, studying or catching precious moments of sleep. The three warriors did not break the silence, but enjoyed the simple pleasure of quiet companionship. As they approached the gate, Shukran peeled off, discretely positioning herself out of earshot.

"It was good to see you again, Neroon. It was a shame that we fell out of touch."

"I have missed you, Sech Durhan." It was not lost on Neroon that his mentor was growing old and tired, and it saddened him. Looking out into the snow-covered hills beyond the gates, Neroon decided to change the subject. "Thank you for training Shukran today. There are very few who would have seen fit for you to honor a half-caste in that way; but it means a great deal to me."

"Neroon, it was my pleasure." Durhan's eyes glittered impishly. "And I must admit I had an ulterior motive. The Anla'Shok have traditionally been rather large. Her technique -- taught by you, I suppose -- will be helpful to me in teaching our new, smaller Rangers."

At that, Neroon laughed, startling some birds nesting in a tree nearby. The two men watched as the flock flushed from the tree, drumming the night air with their wings, then circled back to return to their nests.

Durhan smiled gently. "But I am happy if I have honored you in teaching her. That was my primary goal." Fondly, he clasped his friend by the shoulders. "You should go now. You have a long walk ahead of you." His voice dropped, barely audible. "Remember of what we spoke earlier."

Neroon inclined his head respectfully. "I will not forget." As if on an unspoken cue, Shukran appeared, and stood by Neroon.

Silently, the two black-clad figures disappeared into the night. Neroon had instructed the Grey Council transport to meet them on the far hillside, out of sight of curious eyes. It would be waiting for them at the pickup point.

They left the city and began their ascent up the narrow trail. Scrub brush clung precariously to jutting shards of rock, casting strange shadows in the moonlight. Closer to the top, the scrub gave way to ancient, majestic trees with trunks so large around that three Minbari could not encircle them with their arms.

Neroon purposely slowed as they reached a bend, allowing Shukran to pass on ahead. When he heard her gasp, he smiled. Below them, the plains around Tuzanor spread out like a carpet. In the distance, the flicker of the city lights was barely visible. And off to the left, in solitary grandeur, rose the sheer, snow-capped peaks of Tu'shaalnar.

The StarRider crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a tree to watch his aide's reaction to the sight. Shukran stood at the edge of the precipice, hood thrown back, her slim figure silhouetted by the pale light of the early moon. A smile of childlike delight lit her face.

Neroon walked up to the edge and sat down gingerly, grunting involuntarily at the sharp pain in his side.

"Your ribs!" Shukran knelt down beside him, concern in her voice.

"Will be fine, I assure you," the Shai Alyt answered, grimacing. "And the transport will wait. But this..." he indicated the expanse before them with a broad sweep of his arm. "This is worth a little inconvenience."

They sat in silence, shoulders hunched against the chill wind, and watched the second moon rise to meet its twin. Finally, Neroon rose, steadying himself against Shukran. He reached down to help her up, and they continued on to their rendezvous point.

-- continued in Part Four --