The cabin has proven to be convenient shelter from the surprise flurries of snow … even if it's hardly as cozy and spacious as the exterior might suggest. Searching of the premises revealed only a few furnishings of note that might hold any clues, and many of them cleanly sliced down some arbitrary plane.

Part of a once-valuable Himaatian rug lies on the floor, and inside each porthole window is a trunk. The trunk to the left was cleft at an angle, the lid open and resting against the rock – Once the trunk was pulled away from the rock face, the lid shut of its own accord … but since the trunk is missing the front, that was of no real concern. Inside were assorted air charts and crumbling papers, the only item of note being a hand-drawn map of the Himaat.

A trunk on the other side required more coaxing to open, but the lock was not made to keep out a determined Vartan. Inside could be found a neatly folded Temple guard uniform, a red and brown baldric, a locket with a feather in it, and a hand-written book with no title. Nearby, a broken and collapsed shelf yields a few books of swashbuckling adventure and derring-do … from a Vartan perspective, and in the appropriate language.

A new day dawns, finding Zoltan on the front porch of the cabin with his findings…

Zoltan carefully strokes the cloth of the uniform with the tips of his fingers, worried that he might damage the cloth. His hands fall upon the locket, which he carefully opens and examines the contents.

The locket has no inscription, a well-crafted ornament that nonetheless hasn't any mark of customization save for its contents – a small, downy feather, white due to original coloration or fading with age.

The feather is pressed behind glass, and the weight of age suggests that the locket is older than the Vartan presently holding it.

Carefully closing the ornament, the Vartan ponders. Was this one of his own feathers? His eyes fall upon the handwritten book, which he delicately pulls into his lap and opens.

The handwritten book has a ribbon to use as a placeholder, but it is only placed just inside the cover, not being used to mark any particular page. The colors are red and brown, like the baldric. As for the contents of the book, it is written in scratchy Vartan, on thin, flimsy paper that is aging poorly. Many of the pages have corners that have worried off or tears in the rag-fabric that composes the writing surface.

A simple title, though, identifies the book. "The Journal of Herbir Cambio." It is not well-organized, not having dates to mark the entries, and the writing isn't that of a scribe, but it's legible.

Zoltan begins reading, handling each page as though it were spun of delicate cobwebs.

The passages at first are only barely readable, and many of the first entries are the hardest hit by wear and tear, but with some effort, a tale can be pieced together of a young, naive, eager and quite new recruit into the Temple guard. No mention is given as to how the writer acquired this journal, since even one of this poor quality would surely be beyond his means, this soon into a job such as this. Nonetheless, the pages show the Temple through the writer's eyes, in all of its shiny glory and fathomless mystery.

Of course, not everything is exciting. There are annoying peers, unfair superiors, boring lectures and ceremonies, and the like. But initially, the writer is quite proud of his job. As the entries continue, the quality of the writing actually gets better – along with the care that has been taken with the pages.

However, a few blots appear in the record as one progresses. Entries become less frequent – At first, entries were made almost every hour … then every day, then every week. Now, a year might go by without an entry, then suddenly with several entries to mark a series of momentous events in the writer's life. He has become settled in, and the glory and mystery has worn off. Cynicism has taken root … and various passages dealing with atrocities in Darkside (and his duty in trying to clean up after them) lend hints as to why.

More so, the writer has very little to say about his superior, Inquisitor Sanguine Heringis, that he has been assigned to guard … but there are many passages where it's easy to read between the blanks. Especially since, once the name is mentioned, recognition helps with the rest: Inquisitor Sanguine was one of those who mysteriously committed suicide after the Temple shakedown that followed Caesar Moffat's death.

The Vartan's ears droop a bit. No mention of him in the pages it seems… He continues reading.

Thinly disguised euphemisms show corruption in the Temple … having to look the other way when things were questionable … being ordered to cut corners, or cover up for mistakes. There are only a few mentions that suggest that the writer has any sort of a family … and no mention at all of a hatchling. Still, there are references to "personal business" and "trips" that are left undefined. Might these refer to those gaps in the record where the writer has actually had contact with his family? Or something else?

Zoltan carefully turns the page and reads on.

There is apparently a gap of time, and then a passage that reads like some sort of poem. The writer describes a very beautiful female Vartan … but all words are in the past tense. It ends with the line, "And always I shall gaze upon her as she flies above me, more dazzling than any other in the Procession."

There are several pages missing. In fact, it appears that several pages have been ripped out before this point as well. Since the pages are gone, there's no telling what once graced them. After this page, however, no more are torn out.

The last entry goes thus: "I have done a great service for the Temple, or so my medal says. I discovered some suspicious characters from Darkside slipping into the Temple, intruding upon my master's chambers. They refused to submit, and I slew them. My master was very surprised. In no way was he expecting these criminals, and in no way did he have any dealings with them, and he most CERTAINLY was not expecting them. He congratulated me in front of the guards who broke their way in through the door to find us."

"Alas, my wounds were determined too severe for me to recover from. I am discharged, with honors, from the Temple Guard. It is fortunate that I have no family or hatchlings to care for any longer. I may have earned enemies, as those that I slew have a very powerful friend."

And thus ends the journal, with several empty pages left.

No family to care for. He gently closes the book and sets it down beside him. His hands search over the uniform again, looking for a medal that might be pinned to its surface.

There is no medal to be found. Perhaps it was lost. Or sold. Or stolen. Or maybe it was tied in the recipient's tail.

Zoltan gathers up the items and places them back in the trunk, they're too cumbersome to carry in his limited pack space afterall. He does some final searching through the cramped space of the cabin, peeking under the sliced rug and looking through the swashbuckling novels.

Only a couple of black feathers can be found under the rug. As for the novels, they're not especially DEEP as books go, but evidently they weren't bought just to gaze at pictures (there are few), and it would require a fairly decent reading level to appreciate them. And, frankly, many of the adventures pale in comparison to Zoltan's own escapades. (Though he hasn't had nearly so many love interests.)

After one final check, the black Vartan carefully packs away the items back in the chest and climbs down to the ground. The Titanians are coming, and he knows someone that deserves a fair warning of such at least.

Leaving the pit behind him, the black Vartan wings his way across the rusty sand and grit of the plateau, toward a metal fortress that flies a flag of the Star superimposed upon a broken "diamond" shape. A repeat of the "diamond" shape appears on one of the visible walls.

Zoltan circles overhead, looking for a doorway into the fortress.

The fortress appears to be made out of metal, but not entirely. Large sections are made out of a material that suggests stone – something like what Zoltan has seen at the Temple and at Golgotha. Rows of statues stand in alcoves … but they are all curiously lined up on their SIDES, as if an architect had a very severe problem with his level.

The interior of the fortress has a framework of metal girders as a roof, with four parapets – one at each corner – and a single tower in the center. A robed watchman at the top of the tower gazes at the Vartan through a spyglass.

The watchman, alas, is masked as well as robed. Evidently, he (or she?) is humanoid, but might be either plantigrade or digitigrade. Most definitely the watchman has no visible wings – If there WERE any under those robes, they'd be too tangled to do any good.

The Vartan hovers in the air and waves his arms to the watchman. He points to them, then to the ground, then to his chest, and then to the ground again, hoping to indicate that someone meet him there. He then slowly descends towards the indicates spot, holding his arms out and trying to look as un-threatening as he possibly can.

The Vartan lands without incident. At first, it seems as if he's just going to have to stand there … but then some grinding noises can be heard from the base of the fortress wall, and a couple of portals slide open. From them emerge several Vykarins. Or, that is, several creatures that look an awful lot like Vykarins. They're bigger than the usual lot, standing as tall at the shoulder as Zoltan – and that's even with their hunched-over stance. Some of them wear a curious sort of ceramic armor that seems to blend in with their natural shells, and they have facemask filters covering their muzzles. Behind them comes a single robed figure with ceramic pauldrons and a helmet with a visor that is shaped like the Star.

Zoltan rubs his beak. Okay, now what? "Do any of you understand Vartan?" he scrawks. Hopefully these people have had dealings with the other soldiers, since it seems as though they came from the same place.

This greeting gains a few growls from the nearest Vykarins. The robed stranger keeps walking forward, carrying a staff made of warpwood. He (for the sake of convenience, since it MIGHT be a she, for all the Vartan knows) slaps the base of the staff on the ground, making a clacking noise that silences the Vykarins.

The hippogryph keeps silent, eyeing the robed figure to try and determine a species.

The stranger raises one free hand, folding fingers into a sign of formal greeting, without any friendly flourishes.

Perhaps those legs are digitigrade after all…

Zoltan supresses a grin, hopefully this is one less language barrier he'll have to contend with. He curls his hand into the appropriate responsive gesture, and then carefully signs, "You understand handsign?"

The answer comes from the stranger, in sign, "You know how to fly?"

The Vartan's humor quickly fades. "I had to be sure. I not sure what to expect in this strange land." he bows. "Thank you for seeing me. My name is Zoltan, although your people here refer to me as Redeemer-of-Shadows."

The stranger signs, "I am Watcher Red-Dusk. And my people know not of this Redeemer-of-Shadows. You wear not the emblem of the Confederacy. What is your allegiance?"

Zoltan nods inwardly. Yup, more exiles. "I am of Rephidim, a city here on Sinai… which you ended up on although you may not know yet. I come here to tell you to be on guard. Titanians are coming and they will probably try to tear down you fortress, metal is rare here. They probably be here before day is out."

The stranger signs, "You use signs I do not recognize, save for 'Sinai', and of that you sign strangely. But we are in strange times, for Sinai has vanished from the sky, as you can see yourself. But what of this Titanian, and what is this about metal?"

One of the Vykarins sniffs at the air – or his posture seems to suggest that he's doing this, even with his nose covered by the face filter. He makes a popping noise, then clumsily waves his fingers at the stranger. "Scouts return."

"You standing on Sinai, or at least a piece of you land on top of Sinai," the Vartan signs. He gestures off in the direction that the giant mechavermite towards the edge of the rock. "Metal is rare here; surely you have seen the looters? Titanians are… big people, like the Jupani but bigger. That sign probably not mean anything to you either… "

The stranger signs, "I think you have taken leave of your senses, and are wiggling nonsense." He turns to look at a handful of stampeding Vykarins heading toward the fortress. They are all armed with flintlocks or some variation upon the weapon. One of them has a large tube slung over his shoulder.

"Crazy or no, The Titanians are coming, and will try and tear your fortress down to scavenge the metal in it." Zoltan squats down and carefully draws an image of a shaggy lupine head in the sand. He points to it. "That is Titanian, and most are bigger than me."

The helmet of the stranger tilts as he regards the sign. "You sign of ancient legend. The star-faring barbarians who raided our ancestors' void-barges. You say that they have returned now?"

The incoming Vykarins gallop up to the fortress, and start bark-click-popping excitedly. This earns a stern sign of "SILENCE!" and a rattle of the warpwood staff.

The Vartan peers over at the new arrivals, trying to make out what the tube is. "The Titanians have never been to Himar, and they quite real. You going to find that out real soon." He frowns in thought and then adds, "You from this 'life dome' place as well?"

The tube on the back of the Vykarin has several stylized flames painted on one end of it, and it has an arrow. Large sign-script letters on the side read, "This Side Toward Enemy." The other side says, "Beware Back Blast." The stranger signs, "This outpost stands between the life dome we control, and that held by the Confederacy. All of us come from the life domes, for the sand can support no life. You sign as if you were newly spawned. Why have you so many questions? Your face does not look as if it is full of jest."

One of the Vykarins signs, "Old life dome GONE! Big cliffs! Many trees OUTSIDE of life dome! Impossible but we see! Flappies try to stop us from returning, only us left!"

"You are no longer where you think you are," Zoltan adds along with the Vykarin's signs. "This is another world. I not sure how you got here… but I know that less than year ago none of this was here."

The stranger just stands silently for a time, his hands dropping to the side, with his staff leaning awkwardly. Then, he makes several fierce hand-gestures at the Vykarins, and they charge in to the entrance to the fortress. To the Vartan, he signs, "Something strange has happened indeed. The sun is brighter in the sky, the planets have strayed from their courses, and the weather has changed. For us to be on another world is no less strange than any other possibility. What know you of this mystery, and what brings you here?"

"I originally came here in search of father, who I hear lived in lands that once was here. He either gone into hiding after finding worls around him turning into strange red rock… or he now is where you came from, and beyond my reach, another world away." The Vartan pauses to rub his fingers, he hasn't used handsign in awhile. "All I really know about what happen here is that one year ago during war with Babelites, they drop a weapon over this land. It do strange things to land, making whole world seem to break into little pieces and shatter."

"Please come," the Watcher signs. "The Elders would most certainly wish to hear your report." He gestures toward the door at the base of the fortress.

( Another general… ) Zoltan nods and starts to walk where indicated.

The Vartan is guided inside, through the hatchway. The architecture inside is very strange indeed. The rooms have tall ceilings, and decorations that make it look more as if this were a building that were tipped up on its side and placed back onto the ground, and that the "corridor" they are going through was a shaft cut through the intervening floors. Many of the walls and ceilings have cowled statues standing at odd angles, holding swords, staves, books or hands held together as if in supplication. Here and there are emblems of the Star. At last, they enter a larger chamber, where several robed persons such as the Watcher are gathered around, though some of those seated have far more ornate costumes. Some of those of apparently lower status, while their faces are still covered, have bare tails or arms … revealing golden, spotted fur.

Many hand-signs are exchanged, and the Vykarins are completely quiet here. The Vartan is led to a podium that stands on a dais before a half circle of seated, masked felines. The Watcher stands beside him, signing, "This one calls himself Redeemer-of-Shadows, and claims that we are on the world of Sinai. See for yourself his signs and may your wisdom discern the truth." He makes a long bow.

Zoltan nervously bows to those assembled. "I thank you for seeing me. I come here bearing news and a warning. The news of your transport to here, and the warning that the Titanians are coming."

One of the elders raps his warpwood staff loudly, then signs, "What is this nonsense, Watcher? You have us watching the signs of a Confederate? Have you lost our senses? If he's not here to sign terms of surrender, then we have no time for his wiggling!" A few staff-raps from Elders nearby echo his sentiment, though at least half of the Elders are still watching the Vartan intently.

"I do not know what you mean when you call me a 'Confederate'. I am a Vartan of Rephidim and that is all, and as far as I know I am not at war with you." He points towards the door. "My signs can be proven if you would just look few miles that way. You no longer on Life-Dome… you are on world called Sinai, in what left of country known as Himar."

One of the Elders signs, "We are on Abaddon, the land of our fathers and their fathers before them. Sinai is but a light in the sky, a legendary land signed of by the tale-tellers, and only the deluded Knights yet believe that it is any more than that. And see what good it did them for their fancy. Many strange things have happened, indeed, but I believe it is simply that you, the Confederates, unleashed a weapon that did more than you expected. Perhaps you destroyed your Life-Dome and wish to make peace with us by surreptitious means. We will accept only surrender."

Zoltan shakes his head. "I do not speak for this confederation therefore I cannot surrender for them. If you mean the other Vartans and Eees in this land, they probably leaving as we speak, or still fighting people in trenches." He waves his hands fuitily. "I came here only to find my father. It is out of concern for you that I stray from that to sign with you. I ask for nothing, I only warn you to prepare youselves if or when Titanians come. There not much I can do to prove you not on Ab-ad-don anymore besides showing you where this pillar of rock ends and Himar begun just a few miles away."

A Vykarin waves his paws, signing, "It true! Red land end, green land start! Not far away!" His fellow Vykarins move to silence his paw-waving, before he can add more, and they click-pop worriedly, looking to the masked cheetahs for reproval.

"He knows of the Titanians," one of the Elders signs to another. "This is no ordinary Confederate, and surely no madman." He turns toward Zoltan. "Tell us, then. What happened to the traveller, Sinai, in the sky? Do you mean to sign that we are somehow on this world, though the ground is still red?"

Zoltan sweeps his hands towards the ground and then raises them back up again to sign. "The ground is red because a piece of your world was ripped out and placed here. From away, this looks like big pillar of red rock in middle of green land. I no be suprised if there big chunk of Himar in Life-Dome on Ab-ad-don that take you place."

"A weapon of the Confederacy?" one of the Elders muses. "Perhaps they rid themselves of our outpost this way!"

Just then, a Korv wearing fine (but rumpled) attire is drug into the room, bound up in ropes, by a couple of Vykarins. One of them signs, "A spy!" and nudges the bird with his hoof.

"No… is not like that at all." the Vartan signs. "Whole thing started during war here on Sinai between Babel and Rephidim. Babelites stole weapon from a sky island called a boomer, and when attack force that was trying to stop them caught up with them over Himar, they drop the boomer instead of letting it fall into Rephidim's hands. I saw whole thing with my own eyes."

"Kensington!" Zoltan scrawks. He quickly falls into handsign. "Is okay! The Korv with me, he helping me look for my father.""

The Vykarin beside the Korv gives the nearest masked cheetah a confused whine. At a nod from one of the guards, the Korv is untied, though many eyes are surely upon him.

The bound (and angry) avian snaps his bill at the hoof. "Stop yer jabberin', shellback! Makes no sense ta me, an' I don't wants ta know what it means coming outta the mouth o' a backstabbin' sonnuva… " He rattles through some choice invectives.

The Elders look to Kensington, then back to Zoltan. "Translate for your friend," one requests.

Zoltan grits his beak. "The language of you Vykarians confuse him. He… is grateful to you for untying him." His head whips around to the Korv. "Kenny, these people gots fireballs they throw at people, be careful."

The Elder nods in response, apparently not knowing any better. However, it's impossible to read his face, under that mask.

Kensington gets back to his feet, rubbing at the edges of his wings and looking sore. "Aye, they got net-guns whats they shoot when an' upstandin' swordsbird ain't looking, too. I'd likes t'see 'em try clubbin' me again when I'm not wrapped head ta toe… " Still, the Korv shuts his beak and holds his tongue the rest of the way, glancing about.

The Vartan resumes his handsigns. "If there is anything I can do to prove to you my good intentions and honesty, I will try my hardest to do so. But truth is truth." he looks over to the Korv, "Kensington… did you see Titanians anywhere around heres?"

"Aye, Zoltan," Kensington rasps. "They set up camp at th' top o' the cliff. Th' more I thinks o' it, th' more I be sure they're on their way here. I kin see where this place'd be their 'promised land'."

An Elder signs, "Can you show us some proof that you are from Sinai and not from Abaddon?" The sign for "Abaddon" actually looks a lot like the symbol on the outside on the fortress wall … a hand sideways folded into a "diamond" or near-cupped shape.

"The Titanians is camping on the edge of the rock. They probably come here soon." Zoltan whispers what he signs for Kensington to hear, and then translates the Elder's. "I could prove just by showing you Sinai. Does Abaddon have a procession like Sinai?"

One Elder signs to the other, "By 'Procession', perhaps he means the ring?" Another Elder nods, and adds, "What you sign to us is hard to accept. But if you are from Sinai, perhaps you can answer these mysteries for us. What became, then, of the Expedition that crashed there eons ago? And what of the foolish Knights who decided to go after them and never came back? Are you descended from either of these?"

"I not a historian," the Vartan replies. "Although… you sign of knights. I seen building like this on Rephidim, and people who inhabit it are knights." He adds a little to his translation to Kensington. "Exiles. They all exiles."

"Alluvum?" Kensington whistles. "There 'ere Forbidden Zone pulled a record, did'nit?"

The Elders 'murmur' in sign to each other. One at last – and by his garb and bent, he might be called the Eldest – signs, "We must send an expedition, then, to verify this claim. If we are far from the Life Dome, we are in dire straits indeed. But how, then, do you survive? Or have the Knights erected a new Life Dome?"

Zoltan scratches the back of his head and then drops his hands to sign. "Survive? No Life Dome. We not 'do' anything. Sinai not like red plains here. Things grow." He shrugs to Kensington as he translates.

"This must be seen! Let there be a survey party sent at once!" the Eldest commands. "And see to it that our visitors are accompanied, and that no harm comes to them." There's something about the accent on those signs, though, that suggests a certain degree of possession as well as protection. Even if this "dialect" of Silent Sign may differ from that which Zoltan is most familiar with … undercurrents suggest that if this is shown NOT to be true, Zoltan and Kensington will have a close watch kept on them.

Kensington seems to have gone distant. At the commanding look of the Elder's gestures, he startles out of his reverie. "So, y'gonna prove to them they be on Sinai, Zoltan? I hopes they takes it better'n that eeee did."

The Vartan's ears go flat. "I wonder how they going to take knowing that Savanites is slaves here. That what worry me… " he waves a hand, "Will we return here? I have some items that belong to my father that I no want to leave behind."

"We will, of course, want a full report. So you shall return," signs the Eldest.

Zoltan just nods, giving Kensington a pained look.

Some travelling later, before nightfall, the party closes in on the edge of the plateau. In the distance, streams of smoke and steam clearly mark the site of the Titanian campsite. If that weren't enough, the loud hammering and howling noises would give plenty of clues. Behind the party, there is evidence that an airborne group is following them, but they're keeping their distance … for now. As the party rolls to a stop – one Elder having demanded to ride along to see this for himself, despite the protests of his underlings – the edge of "Abaddon" is clear to see. The red rock ends … and the wilderness of the better part of Himar and the lands beyond stretches out to the horizon.

The Elder reaches up, and slowly removes his mask, blinking in the light of the setting sun. Tears course down his face, running along the black marks on each side of his muzzle. His attendants, however, do not duplicate his gesture … but just stand still and silent, their expressions hidden under their masks.

Gliding above the group, Kensington wheels overhead a few times, then stirs some red dust as he alights on the ground. He eyes the Elder, then watches Zoltan carefully.

A couple of Vykarins waddle over to the edge of the cliff. One picks up a stone, holds it a few seconds over the edge … then lets go. All of the Vykarins rush over to watch the stone drop.

Zoltan circles downwards and lands. He slowly approaches the Elder and his servants. "I am greatly sorry. I know this hard for you… I know a place you can go. There are other Savanites here, they queen is my friend."

The Elder places his mask back on his face. "Sorry? We have found the promised land! Our only sorrow is that the rest of the People have been left behind! Before us, there should be a Life Dome. I should pray that it is still intact, back on Abaddon." He looks up to the sky. "So THAT is the new wanderer in the sky. Abaddon. I have lived long enough to see the Star work a great miracle."

The Vartan motions for Kensington to land. "It may not be the promise you want. There something I been hesitant to sign to you, but you gots a right to know… "

"I am Elder Burning-Stone," the Elder signs with just a slight hint of indignity. "It is my duty and right to know anything that is to be known."

Kensington, already on the ground, grins at Zoltan. "Th' bloke sure looks 'appier'n that eeee did."

"He no going to be happy for much longer… " Zoltan scrawks, he raises his hands and carefully forms his signs. "In many parts of this world, you people are slaves. Recent events have freed many as of late… but in most major continents, Savanites is slaves."

The Elder nods, then pauses silently. Then, he signs, "Your sign for the People is 'Savanites'? And you mean to say we have been enslaved? By whom? Who allowed this outrage?"

One of the Vykarins pop-clicks in warning, and the guards turn around to face the rear. An avian party is approaching, and making either to land or attack.

One of the Vykarins readies his "flame tube". The others ready guns.

The black hippogryph looks at his hands, then to the Elder, then back at his hands. "Yes. Savanites. And you was enslaved by those you enslaved. Is long story that go back many centuries. The leader of Savanites sought immortality and made kingdom crumble in his greed. Whole empire felt his curse. Only now is curse slowly lifting by his descendant."

The Elder, still oblivious to the possible conflict coming, signs, "Sought immortality? A heretic! Perhaps the Promised Land shall have to be purged of the unbelievers who have not held true to the Star!"

Kensington's own wings drop to the hilts of his swords. "I hates ta interrupt yer finger wigglin', but we gots company," he caws, looking edgy.

Zoltan makes a 'wait' gesture to the Elder and moves to get a look at the newcomers.

A shrill cry comes from the approaching party, in Vartanspeak, "By the GODS! What IS THIS?" No fire comes. It would seem that the avians are indeed landing. The Elder looks momentarily annoyed, but then turns to see the incoming party. He gestures to his guards to hold their fire.

"Hello!" Zoltan scrawks back in the same Vartan tongue. "We're friendly. Who comes?"

The Korv folds his wings away from his sabres again, but still looks quite suspicious. "We oughtta bring th' whole dusty-red lot o' them 'ere. Just ta see their faces."

Several Vartans, Korvs, Eeee, Aquilans and even a Kujaku land nearby, a bit further down the cliff face. "GODS!" one squeaks. "IMPOSSIBLE!" one caws. The rest respond in similar fashion. By their uniforms, it would appear that they're with Reeka's camp.

The Elder signs to Zoltan, "It seems you are the only translator here. I take it from their expressions that they are as surprised as we. Perhaps it was no Confederate weapon after all."

"They are discovering the new land just as you are." Zoltan's feathers ruffle a bit. "I think the best thing now is a truce. You will manage better together than apart."

Back at the Fortress, the reception was fairly welcome, really. Kensington wasn't tied up again, for one thing, and nobody pointed any weapons at Zoltan. The response when the Elder gave his report was excited, to say the least. Some lamented that all of the Life Domes may have been somehow destroyed, but such worries were quickly silenced (so to speak … er … sign).

After much explaining about the nature of Rephidim, Processing, and other such details, it looks as if Zoltan and Kensington are free birds. The Titanians, for the time being, seem content to do whatever it is that they're doing at the top of the cliff. For all intents and purposes, they might be building a town there. Maybe.

Outside, the sun is setting, and the stars are out. There are a few patches of powdery snow on the ground, and flickering lights give testament to the location of the Titanian camp. (And the occasional howling, and the banging, of course.)

Zoltan looks down at the red sand at his hooves. "I still gots lots of food in my pack, you wants to have dinner, Kensington?"

"Aye, I could do with somethin' t'eat," rasps the Korv agreeably. "Bein' confused works up me appetite. Maybe ye kin tells me what ye learned so far."

The Vartan pulls some packets out of his backpack along with a jug of water. He hands them to the Korv and starts walking in no direction in particular. "I know where father WAS… but no sure about where he is now. And definitely not sure how I goings to get him back. If he got sent to where these people come from, he could be farther away than Procession for all I know."

Kensington strolls alongside. He tilts his head back to take in the sky thoughtfully. "Farther'n th' Procession, ye say? Lucky stiffs. I sailed th' skies fer years, an' always loved it… t'think I could fly higher… "

A shrill whistle sounds as something rockets up from the Titanian encampment, and soars upward, arcing in a northeasterly direction. Several hoots and howls rise from the camp … until the rocket explodes in a burst of sparks. Many keep on cheering, but half of them seem disappointed. At least if it exploded, it's not a total loss, from the Titanian point of view.

"Is farther than I can fly… how I supposed to be able to get him back is beyond me. I no sure where to go from here. I look through father's logbook, and you see the map from Hiamaat." Zoltan looks out across the red sands. "I going to circle around here for another couple of days. Maybe I just missing something."

"Ye know… I stole me a glance at yer poppa's map," muses the Korv. "There were somethin' on it 'e labelled 'Shinies'… I think I been there."

The Vartan perks an ear. "You mentioned going through Forbidden Zone when you chase after Titanians. What you see when you there?"

Kensington caws, "'Twas th' strangest thing, Zoltan. A tower, it was… on'y broken off at th' top, so's ye could fly in it. Everythin' inside was made o' crystal, all glimmerin' and glintin'. Thought I could turn a profit if I brokes meself a chunk off, but I didn't 'ave time, an' after I saw what 'appened in there, I didn't think it t'were a good idea anyways."

Zoltan opens up one of the food packages and tucks in a bit himself, realizing that he hasn't eaten much today. "What happen?" he scrawks between bites.

"Well," replies the corsair, pausing to gulp back a chunk of jerky. "There was this big room, see? Crystal arches all around, like windows they were. An' floatin' in th' center t'were these spheres, all floatin' 'round a big glowin' one, bright as Primus hisself."

Kensington rasps, "Anyways, while I was lookin' at all this, one o' the windows, what looked likes it was showin' th' desert changed… it went solid, an another … uh, opened I guess. Only it weren't th' desert out there, 'twas ocean. Miles of it, 'neath a wild storm."

The Vartan ponders this. "Anything happen to little spheres in middle of room when this happen?"

"Weren't like any ocean I e'er laid eyes on, though," ponders the Korv. "'Twas kinda greenish. Green-blue. Garr, whate'er t'was, it were one damn weird colour." He tilts his head, trying to recall. "Aye, now that ye mention it… "

Kensington wracks his brain, dredging up the details. "When I came in, th' blue sphere wit' da white streaks was glowin'. Then, th' green one started up, and this tiny trail o' light connected 'em. Made me thinks about somethin' an old professor in Chronotopia was tryin' ta tell me in me schoolin'. 'Fact, that's what made me think o' Abaddon whens I looked at th' sand."

Zoltan stops walking and turns to look at Kensington. "You say you was a pirate at one time. You gots a ship of you own?"

"Aye, that I was. An' that I had.' The Korv stops as well, but doesn't turn around to face Zoltan. Instead, he stares at the horizon, his voice wistful. "Beautiful ship, she was. Th' Korvette were me pride an' joy. I sailed as I pleased o'er the airways, an' tooks what I liked." He turns around, his face a little harder than before. "Th' pirate lords weren't 'appy about it… an' they sent a bloke to snatch her out from under me bill."

From the Titanian camp, another rocket-thing launches, this one looking like a twirly-leaf, spinning in circles as it spirals upward. It goes straight up, hovers in mid air … then slowly descends. There is no explosion when it lands. A riotous noise rises from the camp.

"I makes a deal with you, Kensington. Is one you might be interested in." The Vartan looks down at the metal guantlets on his wrists. "I no gots much in way of money, because all I have is invested in shoppe back on Rephidim. But one thing I do gots is an airship. It need some fixing and crew… but you take me to place in forbidden zone, I gives you the ship. Sound good?"

The Korv looks incredulous. "Ye'd… ye'd just give away a ship ta gets somewhere?"

"Herbir is on Abaddon; if he here than someone would have noticed. This place you find sound like it might be gateway. Is only clue I gots… " Zoltan rubs a finger across the crystal gash on his chest. "I gots no use for ship… right not all it doing is costing me money to store it."

Kensington caws, "Is he now? Well then… " The Korv folds his wings back. "Aye, I can't pass it up. Ye'll 'ave t'show me this ship, though… I don't knows that anything shy o' a dreadnaught kin survive th' storm in there… "

"Is a Babelite ship. Would be quicker to arrange transportation to Forbidden Zone from Himar, or maybe nots… I forget that Elamoore gone." The Vartan flexes his shoulders. "People get there once, is do again."