Rushfighter's starcraft – the Dainty Mauler or the Precise Killer, depending on who you ask – drops out of the Maelstrom back into Realspace, and, from the perspective of those aboard the ship, the luminescent waters recede into the cold and lifeless void, and the resistance upon the hull suddenly gives way to the open expanse. The craft has long since retracted its "sails" and closed its upper deck against the vacuum, but the multi-paned viewports on the starboard side offer a mesmerizing view of the scarlet cloud that forms the Lotus Nebula

With some amount of imagination, the vast expanse of gases could be seen as remotely resembling a flower, as arms stretch off from a central core, as if some force had grabbed the heart of the cloud and pulled it to one side, with the rest of it stretching into arms or petals streaming in its wake. The edges of the cloud are not clearly defined, and many folds and hollows can be seen, along with points of brighter light here and there.

For a time, it seems as if the craft is only sitting in place, as the distant stars and the unimaginably large cloud do not visibly move except during the craft's initial rotation at the point of reentering Realspace. However, up ahead, one of the points of light draws closer, then resolves itself into what might be a snowflake or a crystal bauble that seems to keep growing and rushing toward the craft.

To help pass the time, Willow has taken Nene down to the oars and has managed to convince one of the Titanians to aid in a game with the kitten, allowing her to sit on one of the lower ends of the oar while she and the Titanian push it, a bit like a one sided seesaw. It's a clumsy game, but one of the few things she's found to keep the kitten's ceaseless energy down.

"ROW! ROW! ROW!" bellow the Titanians, urged on by a bonging drum. Nene pretends to help push the oar down from her perch on top of it, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in an expression of kittenish determination.

The rowing chamber shakes perceptibly, and then bursts of light toward the fore of the craft herald its deceleration, as the crystalline structure visible through the viewports grows large enough for it to be evident that it is far more massive than the starcraft. Seemingly tiny gas trawlers drift toward or away from the crystal station, flashes of light reporting the occasional firing of maneuvering thrusters to speed up, slow down, or change the course of the vehicles.

"I never expected the skies to have such beauties. I always figured it was just all black with little pinpricks of light here and there." The Skreek's hands rest on the oar, although she's not really making much of an effort to push, figuring one Titanian can probably manage just fine without her help.

Blammo nods. "Yeah! There is lots of big messes in space! They what happen when an angel goes OOPS and spills da paint used for painting the stars!"

Nene giggles. "Oops!"

In some ways, the craft that can barely be seen swarming around the crystalline station suggest airships around the docks of Rephidim. However, these airships do not make gentle arcs as they circle the docks – Here, all of the movement is in straight lines, each burst of thrust or counter-thrust carefully measured and quickly executed.

Nene pauses in her "rowing" to peer through one of the irregularly-spaced port-holes. "Flickertails!" she mews.

The Skreek gestures to the station. "What about that? Is that like a small planet? Something so big couldn't have possibly been built … at least not in a single lifetime."

Blammo duhs, "Uhhhh … I dunno! Big, huh?"

As the Titanian craft nears the station, the seemingly smooth and flat facets of the crystal shards reveal themselves to be riddled with a lacework or honeycomb of spires and hollows, some of which are large enough to serve as docking ports. There's a faint haze that clings to the crystalline structures in sharp contrast to the crisp clearness of space – a haze that suggests the presence of a thin atmosphere that clings to the surface of the irregularly-shaped structure.

The gong stops banging, and a horn blows. "Oars up! Prepare to go ashore!" one of the elders howls.

Willow's tailtip flicks. "It's the biggest thing I've ever seen… " She eeps at the announcement and starts to pull Nene off the oar.

Blammo shakes his head. "Nawwww! Moons're bigger!" Nene pries off of her perch somewhat reluctantly, then clings to Willow as the ship shakes some more. "We gunna crash?" she mews.

Sebazhan walks up to Nene and Willow. "I've seen where we're headed. It's … I don't think it's a new world, but it's one of the strangest things I've ever … Oh." He breaks off, as he looks out a viewport and realizes that Willow can see just as easily.

"It's beautiful, although I wonder how they can find anything in all this empty space." The gray rat leans on Sebazhan to help with balance since she can't use her hands at the moment. "We're not going to crash, Nene. It's just like a bumpy carriage ride."

Nene mouths an "oh", accepting her mother's declaration, and seemingly concerned no longer about the bumpiness. She idly looks about at all the big wolves scrambling about, in what presumably must be their ritual for landing somewhere … or just pent-up energy going wild before they actually hit "shore".

Through the viewport, crystal shards slip past, as the craft continues to draw even closer to one of the spires, and it slows as it descends toward a latticework of crystal shards.

Willow jerks her head over her shoulder. "We should probably find a safe place to sit and keep out of the way. If this is anything like a Titanian ship, the landing might be a tad rough."

Sebazhan nods. "Ah yes. We've not actually landed in one yet. Shall we head over to the chairs we used for departure?"

"Probably the safest bet. Methuselah might be there as well and can fill us in on things." The Skreek hefts the kitten and heads towards where she remembers the chairs to be.

The Titanians don't give the Dacks much trouble. Sure enough, Methuselah and his entourage are securely fastened in, and there are still spare chairs. Sebazhan helps Willow get Nene buckled up, and then it's a fairly simple matter for the rest of the Dack family to get secured as well.

"Caltrop Station," signs Methuselah, "is the name of our destination, on the edge of the Lotus Nebula."

Willow chuckles as she settles into her seat. "Isn't a caltrop something that you don't want to step on?"

Methuselah nods. "Precisely. It is named purely after the appearance, of course."

The Skreek idly kicks her feet. "Who all will we see there? And do you know who built it?"

Methuselah signs, "It was built by hands unknown, but it is widely believed to be a product of the same people who created the wonders of Sinai. We are on the very edge of 'Sifran space'."

Methuselah signs, "You may see representatives of the various space-faring species there, but the Khatta are most prominent here – as you will find throughout most of civilized space. They are the most prolific when it comes to exploration and trade. Some say they do the former solely so that they can do more of the latter."

"So I'm the only one who'll stick out then, unless everyone else buys the 'little Titanian' thing." She leans back. "Although considering what I've gleaned from the reputation of the Titanians, being mistaken for one might not serve me all that well among your people."

Methuselah shakes his head. "I know of no space-faring race that resembles your people. Perhaps your people are natives of Sinai? Or perhaps descendants of the Sifras themselves?"

One of the elders shouts, "BRAAAAAAACE!"

At the shout, Sebazhan's tail bottle-brushes, and he digs his claws into the restraining cage that holds him down.

Willow presses the heel of her hand again her cheek and laughs. "Oh great Star, that would be the joke of the world. All the rats on Sinai are descended from – ACK!" Her hand quickly drops and she clings to the armrests of her chair.

The lights go out and the whole ship slams heavily, accompanied by screaming metal and protesting supports. Aftershocks rush through the ship, and there are sounds of things breaking … and then the lights come back on. The Titanians begin to extract themselves from where they lie, piled up in a heap at one end of the chamber. "WE'RE HERE!" one of them bellows, and he charges off in the general direction of the gangplank.

Nene cheers, and starts laughing when she sees the pile of oversized wolves.

The Skreek struggles out of her chair. "So what now, Methuselah? Do we have some time to wander around, or do you have business here?"

Methuselah signs, "I have business, but you will have time to wander. Although I would prefer to make haste, I am here thanks to the Titanians, and they will insist upon adventuring at the outpost before shuffling along. It should not be too long before they are thrown out, but I predict we should have the better part of a day before that happens."

Willow offers the old cheetah a hand out of his own chair. "Would it be best if we accompanied you, or is this unrelated business? Despite all the wonders I've seen, I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't a vacation, and I should probably speak to you about the best way to approach the star imposter."

Methuselah signs, "I will leave that to your discretion. I will meet with a few friends here, but I already know full well what they are going to tell me." His ears wiggle slightly.

"Well, since I don't know where I'd go in this big mess and I doubt my shekels are worth anything here, I'd probably be best to accompany you." She glances back at Sebazhan. "Although if you want to take Nene and go exploring, you're quite welcome to. We might find out more in two teams." She winks.

Sebazhan grins. "Certainly. I packed a few trinkets and baubles … hopefully they'll be worth something. The Titanians seem to think so. Come along, Nene!"

Nene bounces up to Sebazhan. "Bye-bye, Mama, Grampa Hoo-Hah!" She waves.

Methuselah's eyebrows rise querulously.

"Make sure Daddy behaves himself, Nene. Show him how polite little kittens act." The Skreek grins and pats the aged cheetah's shoulder. "Her mother has a habit of instantly adopting people into her family since she never had much of one of her own, so she's picked up a bit of it."

Methuselah grins. "I see," he signs, then braces himself on his staff, while Yoshua comes to his side. "Well, no need to gather bags. I don't expect we'll be here long. Shall we be off, then, Lady Dack?"

Willow pats her clothing down. "I'm ready. Just be sure and signal me or nudge me if we get in a delicate or diplomatic situation. I don't want to offend someone I shouldn't."

Methuselah nods. "I do not think you should be in much danger at this point." And then he leads the way, closely accompanied by Yoshua, out of the rowing chamber, off to the gangplank … or that is, the portal where the gangplank was originally found. The portal is now linked to a crystal tube that runs from the ship – securely wedged into a nest of irregularly shaped shards – to the larger structures of the station. The crystal tube is clear all around, giving the appearance of walking at a formidable height, as the heart of the "caltrop" is far, far "below".

The Skreek swallows, feeling uneasy by the whole vista. "In no danger … right." She shuffles behind the pair, making a point of trying to walk where they walk, in case the tube might give way away from their path.

The group walks over to the crystal spire on the other side … a spire that is thick enough that a cross-section of it could charitably cover a few city blocks of Rephidim. Once they step through, Methuselah and Yoshua do a most puzzling thing: they step down and off of the edge of the walkway, in a way that should mean a plummet down the hollow center of the spire. But there's something odd about the way they disappear over the edge … as if just stepping out and then down in a way that doesn't make sense.

Despite any mental assurances that the two cheetahs wouldn't go through all the trouble of coming here and then pitch themselves off a cliff, the Skreek still hesitates at the edge. She cautiously extends a hand out into the space and tries to feel the air beyond. Her ears prick forward for any odd noises.

The chattering of voices reach Willow's ears, in many different languages … but she distinctly hears people talking in Khattan comprising a great deal of the chatter. As she approaches the edge of the tube and looks out … what she sees is just so wrong, as the world seems to go topsy-turvy on her. What should be the wall of a vertical shaft rushing an unfathomable distance downward is serving as the floor for Methuselah and Yoshua, who patiently wait, defying gravity as they stand just below the drop-off.

The floor of the roughly cylindrical main chamber curves up and around … but gravity seems to be directed toward the walls, as people can be seen walking along the entire circumference of the cylinder.

A crystal shaft runs down the center of the chamber, far out – or high above, depending upon one's perspective – plummeting down to the heart of the caltrop, and rising to the furthest extents. Bridges can be seen heading out to this central shaft, and crystalline pods can be seen shooting up and down the multiple tubes clustered in the heart of the structure … a transit system?

The bridges seem to follow Willow's present perception of "up" and "down", insofar as how people are walking on them … and she can also see other portals in the "floors/walls" of the complex, no doubt leading out to docking tubes just like the one Willow is standing in.

The Skreek flattens her ears. "If I end up falling, I'm going to make a point of aiming myself at a Titanian. It might cushion things a bit if I can avoid all the spiky things they wear." She shrugs and steps out. "Won't be the first time I've fallen a few hundred feet… "

As Willow's foot steps out into space … she finds herself pivoting on the edge of the drop-off … and her foot comes down on solid floor, though she nearly stumbles to her knees at the sudden shift of perspective. This could take some getting used to. For what it's worth, she happens to observe several Titanians sprawled on the floor nearby, apparently slow to adapt. One of them is clinging to the floor as if he's afraid he's going to "fall".

Now, by Willow's perspective, the boarding tube is a hole in the ground, with a guard rail running part way around it … so that no one steps into it at the wrong angle and suddenly finds themselves upside down or sideways in the tube when gravity realigns.

"The mysteries of the Sifras," signs Methuselah, who then adds, "but gravitic technology is not unknown in various forms to the space-faring empires as well."

Willow takes a moment to regain her balance and then looks down at her feet. "First time I've come across it. Poor Sebazhan, he's going to have his poor hands full once Nene steps out onto this."

Methuselah's ears wiggle. "The Titanians have some salvaged gravitic generators on board their ship, or else we would have been weightless for much of the trip. The natural state of space is a lack of gravity. You should feel lighter here. The gravity here is similar to that on Sinai. The Titanians set their gravity to be slightly heavier. Zion's gravity is also heavier than Sinai, though not enough that you should experience any great discomfort."

The rat jumps up and down a bit, testing for herself. "I'll remember that. I'll just have to make sure I don't carry too much and wear myself out."

It seems that the interior of the structure has been divided into a nearly labyrinthine collection of crystal growths and more recently added structures. In something of a mirror of the Bazaar or its imitations in so many cities on Sinai, there are merchants – mostly feline – who have shops set up. Most of the shops are considerably larger than booths lining the streets of the Bazaar, and they make use of curious, illuminated signs to advertise their wares. Signs in fluorescent colors have the words "SALE" and "CLEARANCE" in large, bold letters, almost overpowering the writing that says just what happens to be for sale.

"I wonder if the Emir's hand has stretched out this far. These most definitely look to be his descendants … or ancestors … or whatever." She shakes herself out and puts a hand on her stomach. "But no Skreeks. I wonder if that means I might actually get a fair deal out of one of the Khattas."

Methuselah nods. "Of the peoples I have seen on Sinai, there are several that I have not seen elsewhere, though abundant on your world. The Nohbakim, the Foxes, the Aeonians, the Skreeks, the Skeeks, the Lapi, the Cervani, the Rhians, the Gallees and the Gallahs … none of them have I seen elsewhere."

Willow chuckles and shakes her head. "Be grateful about the foxes, likewise with the Gallees. They tend to be troublesome." She shakes her head. "But enough of that; who are these people you're going to meet?"

Methuselah signs, "They should be here shortly. They are not likely to miss the arrival of a Titanian craft."

"If they're of the People, would it be more polite for me to sign? When I was honeymooning on Abaddon, I noticed that some of the priests there tended to glare whenever I used my voice." The Skreek tries to alternate her glance between looking at the wonders around her and keeping track of Methuselah's signs.

A Khatta merchant comes up to Willow, bedecked in a costume that is a combination of robes and armor – not unlike the preferences of the Silent-Ones in simple description, but quite different in actual appearance and proportions. "Greetings, traveler!" she mrowls in accented Khattan, regarding the Skreek with emerald eyes through a mask of features that seem a collage of markings of tiger, leopard and any other number of wild cats. "We are having a sale on ballistic armor. You can have a whole suit, tailor made, for as low as five thousand shekels!" She gestures to a sign that repeats the same claim, with an odd symbol that must represent shekels here … though it doesn't look even remotely like the Star and Anchor.

The gray rat sniffs through her nose. "Thanks, but no thanks. I like to travel light." She bounces on her heels to emphasize her point.

Methuselah signs, "There are some of the People who will be just as offended at the sight of an outsider putting on 'pretenses' by using the Silent Tongue, as others might be by speech. We are in a neutral place, so speaking is permissible. It is only when you are in danger of breaking a silence that you might be concerned about whether you should sign instead."

"Got it… so if other people are talking then it's okay totalk, but if it's all handsign, I should do the same." Willow licks her lips.

The Khatta smiles, making a Khattan gesture of apology for taking up one's time, and shuffles away, heading over to some dizzy-looking Titanians instead.

Methuselah nods. "That would be the best standard to judge by."

As Methuselah signs, a small group of three Silent-Ones in ornate robes – one adorned in red, another in blue, another in gold – shuffle up, their feet hidden by the hems and their hands folded under their sleeves. Their faces are adorned with curious patterns of twisted wire and baubles that form a sort of "mask" that spells out symbolstheir names, presumably. While the style of the symbols crossing their faces resembles the sigils upon the helmets of the Abaddonian Silent-Ones, they do not actually obscure their faces.

The red one is Tempered-Steel, the blue one is Cold-Expanse, and the green one is Reminder-of-Past. They are accompanied by a retinue of six robed and armored cheetahs – their faces obscured by helmets – and again as many Vykarin in some sort of ceramic-looking partial armor that seems to extend the length of their arms and legs.

The Skreek fusses with her clothes again, trying to make sure she looks presentable enough. "I tend to follow that rule for the most part as it is: if I'm with talkers, I prefer to talk just so folks won't think I'm being sneaky." She perks at the arrival of the newcomers and hushes up.

The three colored-robed cheetahs draw back their sleeves, revealing their hands, which they press together in a greeting not unlike the gestures of the Khattas, and they bow low before Methuselah. Each one in turn places a kiss upon a ring on Methuselah's hand. "Your Excellency," they each sign, and then Tempered-Steel signs, "Praise the Star that your most unexpected journey did not end in tragedy!" His face has a barely concealed expression of displeasure. "We praise the Star." This last sign is echoed by the others.

Willow arches an eyebrow, her tailtip twitches just slightly.

Methuselah's ears wiggle. "My absence for such a short time will not cause the Empire to crumble." His expression sobers. "It seems to be doing that just fine as it is."

The three cheetahs duck their heads in shame.

Methuselah regards the three, then signs, "You come here with such small retinues, and Light-of-Star does not even come at all."

Reminder-of-Past signs, "Forgive us, Your Excellency."

( Light-of-Star… I wonder if he's the troublemaker… ) The Skreek continues to keep quiet, trying to observe as much from this exchange as she can.

Methuselah's features contort, in what seems to be … anger … but one tempered with great fatigue and maybe even pain. "Let us go to a place where I may be seated. I weary of standing." He then presses forward, leaning on his staff, heading toward one of the crystal structures that appears to be a temple of some sort … no, a temple of the Star, most assuredly, and with the mark of the Silent-Ones in its architecture. The crystal, despite an attempt to blend in with the styling of the structure that serves as this spaceport, looks to be of a different origin, and not something that the ancients thought to include when they built this gargantuan "caltrop".

Willow nods and follows after the group. She smirks at the Temple; she's heard the stories that the Sifras were trying to become gods, so it would only follow that they wouldn't build any sort of church or temple to any other deity here. Perhaps the whole port might be a church to themselves, but any other denomination or religion would probably have been unwelcome here in the days of the Sifras.

As the entourage approaches the temple, there are many more cheetahs to be seen here, and many Vykarin as well. The cheetahs respond in surprise at the group approaching, and many of them throw themselves down to the ground, either kneeling, or face to the floor, signing well wishes and prayers. The Vykarin look alarmed at the display … and several of them roll up into balls. As Methuselah passes the Silent-Ones, he makes signs of blessing as he passes. A mother, weeping, shows Methuselah a cub which is her child, and Methuselah pauses to place a hand on the child's head and to sign a blessing with his other hand, straining visibly as he holds his staff in the crook of his arm, though Yoshua moves in to help support the aged cheetah.

The Skreek's ears flatten unconsciously. She begins to wonder if she's been behaving inappropriately to Methuselah … is he a priest of some sort as well as a ruler?

At last, the group passes, and several of the cheetahs look with curious wonder after the Skreek that accompanies the robed and armored cheetahs. The sanctuary of the temple is a structure that is comparable to the sanctuary of the Temple of Rephidim back on Sinai – though, compared to the excessive grandeur of the interior of Caltrop Outpost, and the exaggerated scales of everything Willow has encountered in space so far, it doesn't seem to evoke quite the sense of awe that it would have, had it been encountered back on Sinai.

Willow makes a forced smile and waves to the gawking cheetahs in an attempt to look friendly and then jogs to catch up with her little parade. She finds the interior of the temple to be comforting in its familiarity to the Rephidim Temple – and a bit discomforting at the same time, considering her past experiences with the Temple.

There are no pews inside – just standing room only. The procession makes its way past stained glass (or tinted crystal?) windows depicting stern cheetahs and symbols of the Star. At last the group reaches a doorway that leads into a significantly smaller (but still spacious) chamber with – thank goodness – seating. It looks to be an ideal place to serve as a meeting room, and Yoshua helps Methuselah into a chair that more resembles a throne at one end of the chamber.

The gray rat stays near the walls, simply trying to keep out of the way for now.

Methuselah signs to the colored-robed cheetahs, "Allow me to introduce to you Lady Willow Dack of Sinai, a representative of the Faithful of that world."

Tempered-Steel, Cold-Expanse and Reminder-of-Past all turn to regard the Skreek, nodding in acknowledgement.

"An honor to be here." The Skreek nods in return.

Methuselah gestures to the chairs. "Please … have a seat."

Tempered-Steel signs, "Please forgive us, your Excellency, but there is a matter that we humbly submit to your attention. That is, the matter of succession… "

Willow nods again and eases herself into one of the chairs. ( More comfortable than Titanian make I suppose, although I still feel like I'm sitting on a bed of nails for some reason anyway. )

Methuselah looks to Tempered-Steel, and signs, "The matter might be more easily decided on my part, if I were certain that my choice were not playing the diplomat with the openly blasphemous Light-of-Star. How many of you have entertained him by referring to him as 'Your Excellency', when I have not even set one foot yet into the grave?"

Reminder-of-Past signs, "The Empire is on the brink of civil war, Your Excellency, and our enemies await their chance to prey upon us when we are divided."

( Yup, he's the troublemaker alright. ) The Skreek folds her arms across the tabletop, her eyes darting to each pair of moving hands she sees.

"There is no Empire worth preserving," signs Methuselah, "if we coddle blasphemers. I have seen with my own eyes the signs of the people on Sinai. There, he openly presents himself as the Creator. He does not only allow his lackeys to praise him and make allusions to his status as savior and deity."

"And those that speak against him are threatened with his 'holy fire'," Willow adds, frowning.

Methuselah nods at Willow's comment, and then gauges the expressions of muted surprise on the faces of the threesome, and then adds, "It is true. He is heralded only as the Star there, not 'Light-of-Star'. There is no mistranslation. If he sets himself up as the Star on Sinai, he will do so throughout the Empire, and put his enemies to the sword. The time for binding our hands has ended."

Tempered-Steel's ears blanch. "If it has gone this far, there is no other recourse. There will be war."

"I know I'm just an idle representative from my country… but why will this bring about war? Will he set his men against you if you speak out against him?" Willow begins tracing the little black slashes under her eye with a finger.

Methuselah nods to Willow. "Perhaps war, perhaps not. But if peace must be sacrificed, we must realize that there would be no peace under the rule of a blasphemer who would put to death all who bear the truth against him. But it is not war I seek, if for no other reason than that I would surely not live to see the end of it."

Reminder-of-Past turns to Willow. "The People are proud and have long-standing traditions and great blood-lines of warriors, stretching back even longer than we have known and served the Star. Many warriors, though they praise the Star, hold greater pride in their prowess at warfare."

"And what does Light-of-Star seek? I've heard he has an interest in Sifran artifacts." She flicks her ears in thought.

Reminder-of-Past nods and signs, "In recent times, we have attempted to come to a peace with our neighbors among the space-faring empires. It was during another such time of peace that together we first explored the Sifran worlds and learned of its wonders. Since then, we have made and broken treaties over the centuries – they have held for a time, but the blood of our people has boiled, seeking conquest and conflict in the physical realm rather than only struggles in the spiritual. Our warriors grow restless, and Light-of-Star signs of holy war and conquest. He signs to their blood."

Cold-Expanse folds hands together in thought, and then releases them to sign, "There are many signs and wonders attributed to Light-of-Star. I do not think it can be only tales spread by those loyal to him. I believe it to be sorcery … sorcery made possible by the craft of the Sifras."

The Skreek's eyes narrow. "I thought magic couldn't work outside of Sinai? How is he able to manage it?"

Cold-Expanse signs, "The artifacts of the Sifras can do things beyond our understanding of science. This very station we are in is an example of that – although we have managed to duplicate much of it, after a fashion, with our own technologies. Light-of-Star may not have the sort of sorcery we understand on your world, where wishes are made reality at a whim, but he may have other wonders that defy explanation as far as our sciences can comprehend."

Tempered-Steel nods. "It is attributed to him to be able to heal the sick, even to raise the dead … though I believe the latter must be an exaggeration or trickery."

Methuselah waves off the signs with a tired expression. "There are many technologies that could be at work, or old-fashioned lies and legerdemain. That is not the important issue. The important thing is that such tales – true or false – are spread about him without question, and hailed as proof of his status as one blessed by the Star … and, now, even that he should be the very Star, and not merely an emissary."

"It sounds like the Sphere of Life. My husband is a mage and can probably be able to tell if he's able to generate magic somehow." She frowns even more deeply now. "Another question that comes to mind is … why Sinai at all? Your technology won't work there and the magic won't work anyplace but. Most of the technology we have is scavenged off of the poor souls who crashed there."

Methuselah signs, "My informants suggest that he may have been led to believe that the same technology that forms the 'gates' that link the worlds of the Primus System may also be utilized to form gates elsewhere within our universe … or to others as well. By this reasoning, by establishing his throne in the Primus System, he could rule from a hub of multiple universes. He could have a world to take refuge in, where enemy technologies would not penetrate, but he could freely move to outlying worlds in the same system, from which he could launch his fleets."

"And, most importantly," Methuselah signs, "he could become immortal and lead the Empire now and for all time."

"And I suppose this is where the judgement comes in, becausethe best justification for taking it is that it needs to be cleansed of the heathens." Willow rubs her temples. "As for immortality, on Sinai it comes with a price. I've got an immortal for an in-law great great great grandfather, and another as a sister of sorts. Is Light-Of-Star dead-set on this conquest, or do you think he might grant me an audience to speak with him and try to dissuade him from it all?"

Methuselah signs, "If you wish to speak with him, then I shall make it imperative that he grant you an audience. His position is not yet strong enough that he would risk striking against me directly, nor openly against anyone clearly under my protection."

The Skreek sighs. "That's not quite what I asked, but it will do. Another question would be if there is anyway possible I could be granted access to the device he uses to communicate to Sinai with. I don't know if it's as sacred here as it is on Sinai."

Methuselah signs, "An automated observation post is in orbit around Sinai. Recently, an expedition loyal to Light-of-Star retrieved data from it, and has set up a presence there. Securing access to it would be a delicate, though not impossible task."

"Correct me if I'm mistaken … but are you saying that the people Jade-Eyes is signing with are above Sinai and not from your world?" Willow tilts her head slightly.

Methuselah signs, "They are of the Empire, but their loyalty to me would be questionable at best. I could take action to secure it, but the operation would be taken with care, so as not to alert those present, lest they attempt some sort of act of sabotage."

"I wonder if Sebazhan could conceal someone so high above the planet… " The Skreek shakes her head. "But that's another matter. Is there nothing that can be done to quell the bloodlust besides invading my home? Who are the other candidates that are in line to replace you?"

Methuselah signs, "By the letter of the law, I am free to name whosoever I choose. But there are certain expectations by matter of tradition. Tempered-Steel, Cold-Expanse and Reminder-of-Past are among those I have been considering, and I am impressed that they hazarded the journey out this far to meet with me." He nods to them. "And there are many more. None yet has set himself or herself decisively apart from the others.

"So why don't you call for a test? It might drain some of the bloodlust if the people see their leader actually earning his crown instead of simply having it placed upon his head." She bites her lip. "I'm sorry if I overstep my bounds, Methuselah. I tend to leap at the first solution that pops into my head and cling to it … which is sort of how I ended up here to begin with."

Methuselah nods to Willow. "Your proposal has merit, and it is not without precedent."

Tempered-Steel signs, "But what sort of test would be appropriate? Preferably one that would leave Light-of-Star out of the race entirely."

Methuselah shakes his head. "Nothing so blatant. I am not about to cast my vote for 'Anybody-But-Light-of-Star'."

"I could be a judge, if you'll allow me. I know nothing of the contenders and I would not even know Light-of-Star unless he told me his name." Willow scratches her chin in thought. "A true leader should have his character tested: how they react to new situations, what kind of decisions they would make … I've a few ideas but … er… " She motions to the three cheetahs seated. "I don't know if it would be proper for me to say what the tests might be to three of the people that would be taking them. Suffice it to say, though, I think more than battle prowess should be tested."

Methuselah smiles. "I would be the one ultimately to decide upon the merits of your tests. But if it will make you more comfortable … " He nods to Tempered-Steel, Cold-Expanse and Reminder-of-Past. "Thank you."

The Skreek shrinks down. "Of course. I didn't mean to sound as though I was setting myself up to decide your next ruler. I apologize if I sounded a bit too forceful."

The three cheetahs bow to Methuselah, then, with their escorts, file out of the chamber. At a head nod from Methuselah, Yoshua departs as well.

Methuselah signs, "There is no need to be concerned. I am still quite capable of signing, 'no'." His face wrinkles into a smile.

Willow watches the group depart and then relaxes a bit. "That's good … because I have a somewhat blunt question to ask that you might find too offensive to answer. And I only ask because it might be good to know the length of the tests." She clears her throat. "How much longer do you feel you have to live?"

Methuselah smiles, then signs, "That I do not know. Months, perhaps. No longer than a year, and even that would be a miraculous extension of my life."

"I see. Soooo… let's try and place the test period within the span of two months then?" She sighs. "If I were totest my new leader, I would first see how good he is at speaking to the people. Ask him to give you a speech as to why he should be the next ruler. Also a diplomacy test; see if one of the prospects can gain the people a treaty. Test their fortitude; ask them to perform some strenuous task that requires great mental discipline. Test their humility, test their resistance to temptation and manipulation … Does that make any sense at all?"

Methuselah nods. "In abstract, very noble goals – to test each of the aspects I would want in a successor. The trick of the matter would be how best to form those abstract ideas into concrete plans – specific tests – or else whether I should leave the burden on each candidate to demonstrate his capacity in each of these areas to my satisfaction."

Methuselah smirks. "Having each candidate prove his own humility will no doubt give them pause."

The Skreek ticks off on her fingers. "Well, for fortitude, I don't know if there's some kind of quest or exercise warriors take … although you might ask them to fast for a few days. For humility … well, you could give Yoshua abreak or ask that each of the candidates serve one week as a lowly acolyte in a temple. As for temptation and manipulation, they could perhaps be given chances to try and bend my opinion of them or tear down an opponent. If they know that my word as a judge may have impact on your decision, they may try to win my favor."

Methuselah smiles, then signs, "As a bonus, that would test their attitudes toward other peoples."

"Is Yoshua one of the candidates, or is he simply your servant?" Willow rubs her head.

Methuselah looks thoughtful, then signs, "He is no mere servant. I would entertain the notion of considering him as a candidate, if he wishes to try."

"Who is he? On Sinai, someone might think he was your slave, although I see in him the motions of a disciplined student or disciple who acts as he does out of reverence more than obligation," the Skreek asks.

Methuselah signs, "He is a warrior and a priest, a guardian and a servant. His line is one of choice, and not of heritage."

"I've another question then; I can hold my own fairly well in a fight. Would you object to me testing the skills of the candidates in that regard?" Willow rubs her shoulder in a pained memory of a workout that pulled her just a little too far and adds, "How many candidates are there?"

Methuselah signs, "Twenty-four at present."

"And if you wish to spar with the candidates, I will not object, though I am concerned that you put too much upon yourself," signs the cheetah.

"Twenty-four is a bit too much, I'd tend to agree. Perhaps I might spar just with some of them. I'm wondering if they might gloat over defeating a Sinai native or become furious if I defeat them." She plucks at her lip. "Would they protest if you asked them to wear colored helms or a colored cloth veil during the trial period? That way we would only know them by their color, even the ones I've already met before."

Methuselah nods. "A splendid idea."

The cheetah signs, "Perhaps you should compose a list of the traits you would recommend be tested in candidates, and the manner in which you envision them being tested. And, please keep in mind, if you wish to include Yoshua in the trial, that number will become twenty-five."

"How are the people going to react to this? I don't know enough of the Silent-Ones to know if I've just suggested something that they'll view as a great contest or a horrible blasphemy." Willow coughs. "Yoshua deserves his chance as well. I'd also need a battery of helpers for myself, people that don't sign secretly to Light-of-Star. I may ask them to deliberately antagonize the candidates or provoke them."

Methuselah signs, "I am within my rights to choose a successor by whatever means I deem necessary. For me to institute a test determined by a third party is certainly no more blasphemous than one candidate declaring himself the new Archon, and then the Star as well."

Methuselah nods. "Do not fret overly much. I will not place you before the people and expect you to make soothing signs to them. I value your advice, and I shall temper your suggestions with my knowledge of the People."

"I have one final question before I start then." Willow pulls herself up and moves to aid Methuselah in the same. "Is your name truly 'Methuselah'? Or is that just a name you used while on Sinai? The same with Yoshua."

Methuselah signs, "I am properly called 'Archon', though I am more often called 'Your Excellency', or some other such honorific. Upon ascending to this position, it is my name and my title. 'Methuselah' is only a convenience for someone who would need a name for me without being constantly reminded of my position … and a joke. 'When He Dies, It Will Come.'" The cheetah smiles faintly. "As for Yoshua, the name I gave you is a variant on his sign-name of 'Star-With-Us' – a prayer as much as a declaration, and a common name."

"I see. I'm used to word names with the People, which is why I thought yours were a little odd. It's part of the reason why I go by Willow-the-Wisp, since it sounds a bit more like a Savanite name. Other folks call me 'Lady Foxfire', but that name has a long story attached to it that I'll save for the trip to Zion." She smiles. "I'm grateful for your help, Archon. I'll do my best to serve you well. This meeting has given me a great feeling of hope."

The cheetah nods. "That is good. And you have given me much to think about. Now … I think it is time for me to summon Tempered-Steel, Cold-Expanse and Reminder-of-Past before they fret about me too much. Could you please send them in?"

"If I see Yoshua, I'll send him in as well." The Skreek stretches. "It's a fair fight at least." She bows and quietly exits out into the main chamber of the temple.