Captain Rockmore, a black Rhian with a face criss-crossed with scars that look like welts, stands on the bridge of his ship. Although he bears the marks of his encounter with the stinging, poisonous hordes of insects released by the Plaguebringers – and somehow survived this encounter as well – they are nothing compared to the scars on his soul, his mind constantly replaying the deaths of his loyal crewmembers … when he doesn't silence the memories with dreams of retribution.

"The Seven Sisters!" cries a Vartan look-out, and, sure enough, the distinctive mountain range that cradles the City of Hands, along with Mount Dronnel, comes into view, and the Tower of Babel as well. Though the skies are cloudy, and the Procession offers no light to see the way, the lights of Babel are bright enough to illuminate the city and the mountains around it.

"No challenges," mutters the Korv second. "*KAW!* The First Ones smile upon us, for bringing us so far without a single obstacle, save for a contrary wind."

Rockmore just nods quietly. "And we're just in time for the New Year." He smirks. "Do you think you can handle a late-night delivery to the palace? We'll make sure that the Eeee have a turn of the century to remember."

The Korv salutes. "Aye-aye! I'll make sure the boys are ready."

Rockmore just stands there, still gazing on the city, watching fireworks soar into the air and burst into expanding, glittering spheres and then die away, repeating this cycle again and again. "For the Captain-Astromancer and the First Ones," he says to the empty air. "The attack on Rephidim will not go unpunished."

"Varna … Karada … Skeena … " An Eeee priestess of Sunala reads off the surnames of many families caught in the blast area of the "Boomer" that landed in Babel. The tattered fabric and bone beads of her robes flutter and clatter in the wind, as she stands on a precipice overlooking the great pit where once stood the Palace, the College Esoterica of Babel, and countless other landmarks and centers of power. With each name, she runs a knife across the membrane of her wing, her face expressionless despite her act of self-mutilation.

Finally, the last name is uttered, and the priestess clasps her hands together, spreading her shredded wings as if to take flight … and plunges downward into the pit. At stations all around the gaping hole in the collosal city, other priestesses of Sunala commit ritual suicide in like fashion.

The High Princess Saraizadze watches this, just as expressionless as any of the servants of the Death Goddess. To the credit of the priestesses, not a single one utters a scream that reaches Eeee ears. When the last has fallen to her doom at the bottom, the High Princess speaks.

"Rephidim has made a fatal error. They think that they have struck against the heart of the people of Babel, the people of Ashdod, but they are wrong. We are not afraid of death, for we know our mortality all too well – as Rephidim, once again, needlessly hastens to remind us.

"They spoke of concern for the damage that the 'Boomer' might do to Sinai itself, and accused the Nagai of wishing to use this weapon to defeat the rebels in the City of Hands. What folly! How would the Nagai fly over a Forbidden Zone to drop such a weapon? Truly, they proved quite capable of dealing with the rebels on their own.

"But now we see the truth. Rephidim sought to acquire the 'Boomer' to use on its own, to crush one of its most potent rivals on the surface of Sinai. Once they had achieved their prize, stolen from the hands of the noble Nagai, they quickly cast aside their false posturing, and were quick to use this devastating weapon … even after we had ceased hostilities, with the loss of Fetiss.

"Rephidim does not desire peace. Rephidim does not desire freedom. Rephidim does not care for the safety of those on the surface. Rephidim cares only for its own supremecy, as the master of all Sinai. The Temple of Rephidim mocks our gods and goddesses, claiming that we worship idols, thinking themselves superior for worshipping ancient corpses and machines.

"But they will soon see the error of their ways. Yes, they have wounded Babel, but Babel is not dead. The Seven Sisters seethe in anger against the so-called 'Sky Gods', and shall grant us victory. We shall never forget, nor forgive this heinous act against our people. All of Sinai that has eyes to see shall realize the evil that the false Temple represents. We have suffered for our support of the Nagai in their righteous cause, but we will not be cowed! We shall rebuild from the ruins, and carry the battle against our cowardly foes.

"Sunala shall bring death to our foes! Rephath shall give us vengeance! Blakat shall slay all who oppose us! Gurphat shall weaken them! Barada shall lay bare all their secrets! Zakaro shall rob them of the power of magic! And Inala shall give us the pleasure of victory over our enemies!"

A great cry rises from the multitudes of bat-like Eeee ringing the wound in the heart of Babel, as the High Priestess thrusts a sword into the air, symbolically stabbing upward at the enemies in the sky. She glances for a moment to the side to her Grand Vizier and lover, Thath … and smiles.

A steam engine churns its way across the Sylvanian countryside, leafy, gnarled trees whipping past on either side, broken only momentarily by the gap formed by a river that the railway crosses by a short bridge. It's a long, sleek creation, though its design gives more concern to aesthetic than aerodynamics, as evidenced by the numerous embossed images of floral patterns on its outer shell.

In the engineer's box, a jay Korv with a Chronotopian engineer's cap on his head scans four Titanians lined up before him, their manes whipping around in the wind. The avian engineer paces back and forth, looking at the hammer-wielding, oil-stained lupines, and then caws, "You've all done very well, having passed the tests I have set before you. But before I give approval for you to be hired for Duchess Kurai's railway … there is yet one more test… "

"FETCH!" In a quick whipping motion, the Korv flips a broken chitin wrench off the side of the moving train, where it crashes into the bushes.

In a blur, one of the Titanians leaps off of the moving train. The other three just stand there, giving the Korv, each other, and the direction their comrade went in incredulous looks.

The Korv clucks his tongue, then pulls out a tablet, and makes some notes. "Very good! You are all three of above average Titanian intellect."

The large lupines wag tails and loll their tongues at the praise.

The Korv nods approvingly. "Now, head back to the Comfort Car, and get cleaned up. I'll be presenting you to the Duchess when we arrive in Justintinople. And if you're well-behaved, we all may get to meet the Czar as well. Now then, off with you!" At a wave of his wing-claws, the Titanians disperse, one using the walkway, another clambering along the hand-holds on the outside of the engine, and another climbing over the top. This prompts a sigh from the Korv, but he turns around, looking at the gauges, and enjoying a moment's solitude, with the Titanians at last gone.

CLANK

The Korv's neckruff bristles. "I told you… " He turns around, looking at the source of the noise. "Oh."

A very battered-looking – but happy – Titanian stands before the Korv, a broken chitin wrench in his mouth. Several twigs and burrs stick out of his fur, and there's a small glowing-red-eyed squirrel (of the non-anthropomorphic variety) gnawing on the Titanian's wagging tail.

The Korv instinctively grabs the undead squirrel and chucks it off the side of the moving train. He clears his throat … then grabs his tablet, making more notes. "You're in."

"Please enter," says a chalky-white poodle, Inquisitrix Vindicta, not looking up from the papers on her desk as the door obligingly cycles open.

A Jupani woman with lupine features and long dark head-hair tied back behind her ears steps into the chamber. "You wished to see me, Inquisitrix," states Temple Scout Den Leader Danae Sapphire.

The poodle nods. "As with every year, the Landing Day pageant put on by the Temple Scouts was … quite entertaining. The choir's singing was lovely."

The Jupani just stands there, not nodding or making any move in response, for the Inquisitrix is not even looking at her regardless.

Soon enough, the poodle finishes her thought, "However, I cannot help but notice that there was no mention whatsoever of the First Ones in your program."

The Jupani nods. "Yes, Inquisitrix. Landing Day is a holiday traditionally associated with the Star, due to the imagery of the – "

"All holidays," cuts in the poodle, at last looking up, "are traditionally associated with the First Ones now. We venerate our predecessors – real, noble people, not some vague, distant, undefined 'force of goodness'. I am quite aware that the Temple has long tolerated such … pardon me for using the word, but … heretical beliefs, but as you should well know, the people of Rephidim have cried out for a new order. Are you going to be a part of that new order, Den Leader Sapphire?"

The Jupani bites her lip, then says, "I do not understand the question, Inquisitrix Vindicta."

"You do not? Or you do not wish to? Pardon me, dear Den Leader, but am I putting you on the spot? Tell me this, do you not believe in the First Ones?" asks the poodle.

"Most certainly I believe in them, Inquisitrix Vindicta," says the Jupani, trying to keep her voice level and calm, though her ears betray her anxiety. "They are the ones who built the structures we so diligently examine in order to learn more about them."

"But do you respect them, Den Leader Sapphire? No, I don't want your trite answer to that one. The First Ones have gone on before us to a higher plane of existence, and they now watch over us and guide us so that we, too, may achieve greater things than our mortal existence would otherwise allow," the poodle says, her eyes not leaving the wolf. "Do you believe this?"

"But, Inquisitrix, I have no way of knowing – " the wolf stammers.

"You don't? But you do have a way of knowing that some blazing ball of gas cares about everything you do? Den Leader Sapphire, I suspect that you seriously need to examine your beliefs," the poodle yaps. "And furthermore, until you can come to a matter of conviction in your beliefs, I have no choice but to relieve you of your position in the Temple Scouts. You are now Guardsman Sapphire, until further notice." The poodle holds out one gloved hand.

It takes a moment for the former Den Leader to figure out what the outheld hand is for … but after a moment's pause, she reaches up to her lapel and removes the Temple Scout pin there, and hands it over.

The gloved hand closes around the pin, and then drops it in a drawer of the desk. The poodle scrawls a note on the paper in front of her. "Lack of proper veneration of the First Ones. Failure as a role model to our youth." Then, she sets the paper aside, looking back up at the wolf. "That will be all. Good day, Guardsman Sapphire."

The Jupani nods her head, her expression frozen as she turns around to face the door that cycles open. She rushes past the guard, not allowing herself to make eye contact with him.

Down the corridor, a male Jupani Guard and a much larger Titanian Guard walk along, wearing the gray and green uniforms marking them as personal guards serving Arch-Inquisitrix Esther. The smaller Guard stops to look when he sees the ex-Den Leader approaching. "Danae! How … oh … what is it?"

Danae doesn't say a word as she walks right up to Kray Sapphire … then breaks into sobs as she hides her face against the armored chest of her husband.

"It looks like a giant floating kyootcumber," growls the brown-furred Khatta captain, adjusting his greatcoat, as he paces the deck of the observation dirigible making a route around the drydock where a newly refitted zeppelin is awaiting its crew. "It's … it's … yellow."

"Screaming yellow," corrects the big, dumbly grinning Titanian engineer dwarfing the cat. He looks terribly out of place, crammed into an oversized version of a stylish formal suit. The formality does little to help, as the Titanian has tugged his necktie to loosen it to the point that several frayed threads poke out here and there. "Bright color make it go faster!"

"Yeah, yeah," sighs the Khatta, who then drops to a mumble. "All I need is my ship built. I can repaint it later… " But then his eyes go wide. "What … what is that?" He fumblingly points at what looks like a couple of giant ladies' fans attached to the side of the undercarriage, slowly opening and closing in time with the spinning of the propeller blades.

"Uhm … that … uh … quantum … regulator?" the Titanian manages to answer. "It scare off gremlins. Make machine work better. Lots of movey parts confuse gremlins, make them go away. They dunno which parts to break first to make machine go boom. And if you make nicey things on machine, it work better."

"Oh … yeah … sure," says the Khatta, rolling his eyes and orbiting an index finger around one ear when he thinks the Titanian isn't looking.

The Titanian frowns, and bops the Khatta on the head. "Me no joke! It make machines work better! You … oh … uhm … sorry, kitty, didn't mean to make you go nite-nite." He stands there a moment longer, looking at the unconscious Khatta … then slowly gets bored of that and walks along the deck. "Ah. You sleep now, kitty. You really like cabin of new ship! It have wake-up feature. Spring you out of bed, all the way up to the deck! I put you on it right now, 'kay?" Then, his head filled with thoughts of how pleased the Khatta will be when he is bodily hurled out of bed by a giant spring every morning, never having to worry about oversleeping again, the Titanian engineer slings the Khatta over one shoulder, and thinks about getting a new chewtoy as soon as he gets paid for this.

At the Last Chance Inn in the capitol town of Dack, a young cheetah boy – just on the verge of entering his teen years – works alongside a Siamese Khatta boy of similar age, chopping and stacking wood in the back yard, sending out puffs of vaporized breath as they work, bundled up against the cold of the Krozite winter.

The clip-clop of hooves on the recently cleared cobblestone drive alerts the two boys to the arrival of a wagon, and they both pause in their work to peer around the edge of the inn house to see who the new arrival might be.

At a glimpse of a massive, cowled and bundled figure getting out of the wagon, and of a golden and spotted hand reaching out to hand some shekels to the Kavi driver, the cheetah boy's ears start wiggling, and he is off like a flash, dashing for the front of the inn!

"Hey!" protests the Siamese boy, quickly sticking his axe in a log and dashing after the cheetah. "Reed, wait for me!"

The wagon rolls away, leaving the scarred ex-pit-fighter and ex-slave, X, holding a leather duffel with his few belongings. He turns in time to see the smaller cheetah running toward him, and a tired smile forms on in muzzle by way of greeting. He drops the bag in the snowbank, and gives his son a hug as soon as he's within arm's reach … though he doesn't sweep him off the ground like he used to. He still could, of course, but Reed would protest that he's no longer a cub as soon as he got his hands free to sign.

"Hey, Lumpy!" calls out the other feline, panting as he catches up to the two cheetahs. "Come on out! X is back!" Sure enough, a Siamese young man comes out, a hammer in one hand and some ironwood nails still clenched in his teeth. His sister, the eldest of the small clan, comes out, wiping her hands off on a dishtowel, and smiling as she sees the father-and-son reunion.

Once Reed pulls back from his father, his smile fades, as he notices that X is alone. "Where is mother?" he signs. "Did you not find her?"

X's tired smile looks a little more tired. "I found her, my son, and I bought her freedom, as I had set out to do. But though she is your mother, and I am your father, I was never her husband. She has one now, and it is not me. I bargained for his freedom as well, and I wish them happiness and good fortune, wherever they travel." He leaves unsaid the fact that their travels would not take them here … and, for now, the fact that Reed also has a little half-sister.

Reed's shoulders slump, and he quickly turns away to hide the tears forming in his eyes. He would never dare cry in front of others, and doesn't make so much as a sound, but the surprise and elation of his father's return and the sudden disappointment are too much for him to put on a good show at being beyond cub-like displays of emotion.

X picks up his bag, moving on so that Reed can be given some token amount of privacy, pausing only to place a consoling hand on Reed's shoulder in passing. He recalls how odd it seemed to him that Cloudsmile had been so anxious to pass her son – her son of eight years at the time – to a man that she had not seen in as many years … a man with whom she had shared only a day and a night before he had been taken by his masters to the next city for the next set of pit fights.

The cheetah bows in greeting to the lady innkeeper and her handyman brother, receiving nods and a smile in return, and heads on inside with his bag. For my transgression, thinks the cheetah, for eight years I robbed him of a father, and then traded him one at the cost of his mother. I pray that he may forgi –

The cheetah's train of thought is broken, as Reed takes the bag from his hand – a heavy burden for the smaller cheetah, but one he can carry nonetheless. His eyes are a little red around the edges, but he smiles up at his father, signing with one hand, "Welcome back – ," and then stumbling to use that hand to hold the bag, lest he drop it on the floor. His ears wiggle self-consciously.

X nods and smiles at Reed, as they head to the room in the back of the large house that has been designated as theirs. But we have another chance here, Star be praised.

A green-eyed lady cheetah slowly makes her way atop the broken rubble of a statue of a Creen, assisted by a brown-robed male cheetah mage with a patch over one eye. Jade-Eyes – also known as Azhtar – pauses to check her footing, then gives a nod of thanks to Twilight-Wing. She looks out on the assembled crowd that stands amidst the wreckage of Safar, in the center of what was once a square surrounded by tourist traps. A great number of them are Savanites … but there are also many types of Shigai, Rokugai, Kirigai, and even some Nagai … plus some others she is not sure how to classify, and friends of the Savanites that have come from distant parts.

"The Emperor-Potentate is dead," signs Jade-Eyes, "and with him the Empire of the Nagai. While the regional governors squabble over the throne, Xenea is left unclaimed. As the Priest-Queen of the Savanites, chosen by those remaining of the Twelve, it is my hope that we may rebuild Safar, and reclaim Xenea. But this will not be a land of Savanites, nor a land of Nagai. It will be a place where all – cold-blooded or warm-blooded – may live in peace. Xenea shall be a land of its own, and Safar shall be its capitol. The ruins of the City of Hands shall be left as they are, for we shall be a people living in the sunlight, not hiding in the shadows of a Forbidden Zone."

"We will have much work to do, and many preparations to make, but I tell you that we are not without friends. I have made contact with the Silent-Ones – no, not the impostors from Abaddon, but from the true Silent-Ones, from beyond the Procession and the worlds of the Gateway. They smile upon our efforts, and hasten to join us," signs the young woman. "And when they do, they shall usher in a new age of prosperity and security such as we have never known before… "