Flight lessons continued for much of that day. Icarus is a quick learner, as it turns out, but at least the 'magic' used is just variants on gravity fields which he is quite the prodigy with. The day came to a close with little injury other that too much sand in their clothing.

The next day starts reasonably early for the crew and Envoy finds herself thinking more on the twelve that came before Icarus and on just how much he should know about how he was made and what was sacrificed. Still, she realizes if she doesn't tell him, he may come to resent it later when he finds out and children have a knack of finding out. So she brings him to the first of the two bio-labs; the one with the sequencer and neural programmer equipment. It is also the room in which Envoy 'remembers' seeing him grown.

"So " Icarus asks as peers around the old lab through slitted eyes and with dancing eyebrows and ears indicative of him pondering various things, "What exactly did you want to talk to be about? And why didn't you want Walter here? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you haven't done anything wrong, Icarus," Envoy says, feeling nervous. At least, more so than she has in the previous 415 days of not having the Child part of her mind. "But you're a mature boy, and it's time to learn about how you were born." She goes to the sequencer, and lays a hand on it. "Your body was designed with this machine, the hand of Fearless-Eye and the genetic material of Elsa Daedalus, Dr. Von Bronson, and bits and pieces of a few others."

"I was made by that weird machine with all the tubes?" Icarus asks as he approaches it cautiously, as if it would jump out and bite him, or worse. "How? I mean, I guess making a body would be complex, right? We have a hard time getting a perfect angle out on the sled, I can't imagine trying to design something like a hand. Are people normally compatible in that way?"

"Well… they just have to make one working cell, and the rest grows from there," Envoy says, her stomach sinking a bit. "But it isn't easy. You were Number 13. The first ones… didn't work out. They only grew to a point, and then stopped, or were terminated when it was clear they weren't working out. I sealed away the room they're in, because I didn't want you coming across them unprepared."

"Oh," Icarus says and his ears fold back. "Why didn't they just use one type of cell, then? Why did they mix them and run the risks of creating something they would have to kill? Or created something that looks like a freak: me?"

"You look fine," Envoy says immediately, and then hugs Icarus… just because. "They needed someone stronger than a normal human. The power you can wield… it destroyed the others. Their bodies just couldn't handle it. And it's why I worry whenever you push yourself."

Icarus looks down at his hands while being hugged from behind. "I look different," he says, "To, well, anyone else. Born-In-War and his family were kind to me, but I don't look like them except for the spotting. I don't look like any of the humans we saw in town. I'm weird-looking, even I can see that. And … why did they implant stuff if they knew it was dangerous to them? To me? Did they not care about the person? Or … are we not real people and don't matter as much?"

"Dr. Von Bronson… didn't care," Envoy admits. "You were just steps towards a goal. Dr. Daedalus realized you were people though, and that's why she sacrificed herself to save you, and make sure that Von Bronson couldn't continue the research."

Icarus' head tilts to the side and back a bit. "How many of them died before they knew what they were? And … how many died in pain?" he asks.

"Eleven died," Envoy says. "It wasn't until Twelve that Dr. Daedalus realized. I don't know if they were in pain or not, but it probably hurt."

"Was twelve like me, then? Did he grow up?" Icarus asks, "And … how far did the others get?"

"Twelve was strong," Envoy says, smiling. "They didn't last long though. Do… do you want to meet Eleven and Twelve? Those aren't their names though. I call them Calypso and Theseus."

"Meet them? I thought you said they were dead?" Icarus says and turns around to look at Envoy.

"That doesn't mean they're gone," Envoy says, letting go of Icarus, and then holding a hand out to him. "I made sure they'd never be forgotten."

"Not being forgotten is good, right?" Icarus asks as he takes a hold of Envoy's hand. "It sounds good."

The Aeolun leads Icarus out of the lab, through the battlefield and back up to the second level. "This used to be the incinerator room," she explains, as she takes him into a room that is now the antechamber to the mass shrine she created. "That's them, with Dr. Daedalus," she tells him, pointing to the statues behind the urn.

Icarus' fingers slip from Envoy's as he walks forward towards the urn so that he can get a better look at the statues beyond. "She … looks familiar. I feel like I know her from a dream," he admits, his voice falling soft. "Why do I feel sad when I look at her?" the hybrid asks after a brief silence. "It's … like she should be important to me, but I can't completely remember why. You said she made me, but … why would I feel something for her if that is all it was?"

"She's still your mother. She talked to you while you were growing in the tank, and… you must remember her voice," Envoy says, coming up behind the boy. "Theseus saved my life, even though he was dead."

"You're my mother," Icarus says as he continues to look up at the statue. "And how did someone dead save your life? That shouldn't be possible, should it?"

"His spirit did, then," Envoy claims. "The power you and your siblings hold can affect time as well. I even went back and became him for awhile. I got to see you when you were just a tiny thing… "

Icarus actually laughs, though there is no humor in it. "You're saying I can affect time?" he asks in disbelief. "And that you saw me when I was small?"

Envoy nods seriously. "My mind went back, anyway," she explains. "I was in Twelve's body when I got there. I talked to Dr. Daedalus."

"Are you sure about that? Maybe you just hit your head," Icarus suggests. "Do you have any proof?"

"His spirit told me, before I made all of this," Envoy says. "Don't worry about it, Icarus. You aren't going to be messing around with time – you just learned how to fly. Baby steps."

Icarus' expression is clearly of someone who doesn't quite believe what Envoy is saying. "So, what happened to the first eleven?" he asks, changing the subject a little. "There are only three statues here."

"Well, if you really want to see them, I can take you," Envoy says, after taking a deep breath. "You'll be expected to attend a funeral soon, so… a little practice couldn't hurt, right?"

"Oh, my father's funeral," Icarus says as his ears splay flat again. "My Silent-One father, that is. I was trying to forget." Even though he does seem decidedly uncomfortable about going to see the others, he answers, "Yes, I want to go see them. I feel like I owe them that much for some reason."

It's not far – just outside and down the hall, where it ends abruptly. Envoy has to cast a Mold spell to soften the wall, so that she can reach into and find the hidden door handle. It opens with a bit of a sucking sound as the softened concrete pulls away around the door.

And beyond sits the room as she remembers it, a dimly lit storage room lined with floor to ceiling glass tubes containing the misshapen bodies of the first ten experiments, and an empty tube for number eleven. Gummy eyes, on the bodies that have eyes, stare back at the odd pair as they enter. Icarus' sucks in his breath and takes a step back, covering his mouth when he sees the remains. "That's horrible," he whispers.

Touching the first cylinder, Envoy chokes a bit. "I don't know if they ever… woke up," she says. "The computer in the bio-lab might have the information, but… " she just trails off.

"I hope they didn't," Icarus says with hints of strain in his voice. "That looks so painful. What kind of person could do that to another living being? Was the goal so important that hurting others didn't matter?"

"The goal was hurting others," Envoy points out sadly. "To make living weapons, each with the power of a Titan." She then puts her hand on the boy's shoulder and asks, "What do you want to do with them?"

"I don't know," Icarus admits. "I wish I could apologize to them. I feel … bad because I lived. I didn't suffer like that did. But … I would not be here were it not for … this. It feels like it is somehow my fault." His right hand waves half-heartedly towards the tubes.

"None of this is your fault, Icarus," Envoy says. "Just because you survived and weren't tested to destruction makes you no less of a victim. If anything, you're being alive and free gives meaning to their deaths. How about a funeral? We could create a new shrine, or place them with the others."

"Yeah, they should be laid to rest. They were real people too, right? And … they should be with their mother; so the same shrine, I think," Icarus says. "What do we need for a funeral?"

"Well… I don't know," Envoy admits. "Traditions vary, and I don't think my old draconic ones would be appropriate. The first thing to decide is how to treat the bodies. The others in the shrine had all been burned to ash, and that is an option here as well. But we can also turn them to stone, for example. I might even be able to reshape them back into human forms from that state."

"What are your old ones? You're sort of … well, you adopted us, so maybe your traditions should be ours?" Icarus suggests. He sighs, thinking and rubbing the bridge of his blunted muzzle. "And maybe statues would be better than just ash. That seems too much like trying to erase them."

"The dragons performed ritualized cannibalism," Envoy notes, making a sour face as she does so. "And I've never really desired to emulate my creators. We're new people, you and I. And I agree that statues would be best. I just need to… feel out what they should have looked like if they hadn't been tinkered with. And we'll need names. Names are important: they prove that they were people, or at least could have been people if they'd lived."

"Okay. Well … it will take some time to think of names for ten people," Icarus admits, "And time for you to figure out what they might have looked like, right? Maybe we should have breakfast first."

Envoy tears herself away from trying to work out the facial features of one subject, and blinks three times. "Oh yes, breakfast. We are out of pizza though," she laments. "We will have to procure donuts on our next visit to the city. What do you want for breakfast? And how are you feeling about all of this?"

"Sad and angry," Icarus admits, "I kind of want to hurt the people who did this. Make them feel the same pain they inflicted. But I will settle for some bacon and toast for breakfast. I think Walter may still have some in his supplies."

Nodding, Envoy leads the way out, but doesn't close the door – she watches to see if Icarus does, however.

Icarus walks out, head down as he stares at the floor. Once he's through the doorway, though, he waves his right hand slightly and the door closes behind him with a thump.

He's still uncomfortable, Envoy thinks, and puts an arm around his shoulders. "I've gained a lot of appreciation for the dead over the years," she notes to him. "At first… I just treated them like… debris."

"Maybe that is all we are," Icarus says and shrugs slightly as they walk down the hallway. "Just walking debris." Up ahead there are more lights on, so it appears Walter is awake and puttering about in 'Envoy's lab/Kitchen'.

"Don't ever think like that," Envoy says, and then smiles to Walter. "Good morning! Is there any bacon left?"

"There won't be if you don't hurry up!" Walter calls out from kitchen, "Your guest is going to eat it all!"

"Oh of… pardon?" Envoy asks, turning her head to take in the entire room.

"Guest?" Icarus asks. And sure enough, sitting at the table and reading one of those novel collections of paper with writing on them called a 'newspaper' is a guest. Someone well-known to them and immediately recognizable, the young, purple-smeared, boomer scarred face of Violette, the Eeee chaos mage peeks out from around the newspaper. "Morning, Mage Envoy," she chirps, "And hello Spotty!"

"Violette!" Envoy says, sounding pleased, although her tone shifts a moment later as she says, "I'm not sure that Eeee can digest bacon well, so you should not overindulge." After a moment, she thinks to add, "What brings you by?" in a more cheery tone.

"Two things!" Violette chirps, "News, which I wanted to know if you caused … and if so warn you to be more careful. The other is uhm … " She grins nervously now. "There's this thing called a movie that they do in town," she says, "It's pictures that move on their own! Without magic. It's really neat. I was wondering if Spotty might like to go with me tomorrow night."

Envoy looks to Icarus, and notes, "They are rather entertaining. Especially the short ones they show first, where the rabbit humiliates people." To Violette, she asks, "What news are you speaking of? I've been… busy, of late."

Walter, meanwhile, is trying to cook said bacon on the makeshift burner and refurbished pan. He looks a bit ridiculous in a top hat, bow tie, and full suit, over which he's wearing an apron that reads 'Master of the Grill'.

"Uhm, sure?" Icarus says a bit hesitantly as he looks between the Eeee and Envoy.

"Neat!" chirps Violette, "It's a date then. I promise I don't bite. Only the weird Eeee do that."

Slowly, Envoy begins to wonder why Walter is wearing his hat and good suit, but stays focused on the Chaos Apprentice until she tells her about whatever event has gotten Envoy into trouble this time.

"Now, as for news … were you messing around with some powerful magic about fifty miles or so south of the city?" Violette asks. "I was working on some rituals for Latania and these obnoxious surges kept destabilizing the ritual. Uncontrolled pulses of some sort. Thought it might have been you and wanted to warn you Latania is in a real snit over it because it messed up some of her work."

Envoy gets one answer to her pondering of why Walter is dressed the way he is. He lifts off his hat and retrieves the salt shaker from the pair of shakers he has resting on the top of his head. He sprinkles a bit of salt on the bacon.

"Oh, so sorry she was inconvenienced," Envoy mutters, blinking at the man for a moment before telling Violette, "That was all just some crazy scientist trying to kill me with a homemade… golem… of sorts. That wasn't even magic. What about yesterday?" She wonders now if her actual use of magic – and extremely amplified magic at that – had any noticeable effects.

Now Walter is juggling the shakers. "Yesterday? No, nothing too unusual. One of the other apprentices messed up a ritual assist and made these giant mushrooms grow out of her feet. We're all calling her Toestool now," Violette notes as she finally sets her newspaper down and pats the chair beside her, then grins at Icarus.

"Ah, well… you can tell Latania that no magic was involved in those disturbances… technically," Envoy notes. "It was done with technology. Sort of."

Icarus looks confused, but goes and sits by the bat anyway. Her grin widens, which just makes him more nervous. "Okay, I'll be sure to let her know. I don't think she was annoyed enough to actually send anyone out to hunt down the source, but you never really know with her. I heard that one time she was served dinner cold, so she gave the chef a serious case of butt-itch." the Eeee notes.

"I'm pretty sure she gave me the hiccups at a fancy party once," Envoy notes, then can't hold back any longer and asks, "Walter, why are you wearing your best suit to cook breakfast? Is… is it laundry day already?"

"Alas, yes. I am down to this and I have worn my underwear forward, reversed, and they are not currently inside out. I'm getting desperate," Thorndike admits. "Now sit down, food will be finished in just a moment."

"Why are you grinning at me like that?" Icarus finally asks Violette.

"Because we're going on a date," Violette chirps, "No one ever goes out on a date with me, I'm too ugly. But you didn't seem to care … so I thought I would ask."

Sitting at the table, Envoy thinks about this. She's used to just wearing her clothes until they get really dirty (or wearing clothes that are built to get dirty). But humans sweat all over, and secrete oils and who knows what through their pores, and with nothing between their skin and their clothes, it probably gets into the fabric. That's a lot harder to get out than actual 'dirt', from an Earth Magic perspective…

"Date?" Envoy asks, looking up in alarm. "Not without a chaperone!"

Violette frowns and crosses her arms. "Why not?" she asks. "It's because I'm from Babel, isn't it? All the stories about what we do."

"Stories?" Icarus asks, looking confused.

"And oh! A treat today!" Walter declares, "You'll get to see a new invention! It's not as amazing as the perambulator, of course, but it may revolutionize breakfast."

"It's because you are both minors and should have adult supervision," Envoy says. Then she asks, "Will you be wanting to drink Mateh? That's all we ever did when someone asked me out on Caroban."

"Uhm," Violette says, "Maybe."

An invention? This gets Envoy's attention too. One thing about having Child back – it makes it easier for her to jump from one interest to the next. "What is it, Walter? Is it a gas-powered waffle iron? A bread toaster? Something that keeps eggs from exploding?"

"Observe!" Walter announces, twirls the end of his mustache, then whacks a large button on a boxy contraption next to the small stove. Sproing! it goes and a pair of waffles fly through the air and land on a place right in front of Envoy! "I call it the Luftwaffle," he says proudly.

"Er, what do people do on a date?" Icarus asks, confused.

"Wow!" Envoy exclaims, and pokes the upper waffle to make sure it's cooked. She blinks at Icarus, then turns to Walter and asks, "That's a good question! Have you dated before, Walter?"

"I have engaged in the courtly arts, yes," Walter says as he reloads the odd contraption. And yes, apparently they are cooked right. "I wrote poetry to woo the gentle goddess Elaine once. She slapped me. Women do not like to be referred to as immense, I have learned."

"Nothing else rhymed, I take it?" Envoy asks.

"Not so much, no," Walter admits.

"You snog on dates," Violette notes. "Or so I've heard."

"What is a snog?" Icarus asks.

Envoy tells Icarus, "Well, she means energetic kissing and fumbling about awkwardly with your hands. But first you start out with just holding hands. I don't know why that's important, but I assume it is so you can feel one another's pulse. There is also dancing, at times. And walking. Lots of walking. Let's see… no, not that part. That part always ended in screaming… uhm. Flying together, I suppose? Running around… hide and seek… and food. Lots of eating. Eating together is the primary activity I am certain."

"Energetic kissing?" Icarus asks, still looking bewildered. So … Violette demonstrates on him! Poor Icarus' arms flail about wildly and he makes these rather sad little chirping noises.

"Hm, that must be universal to universes," Walter observes, "That's always how the first kiss goes. Usually it is in darkened rooms or a porch, at least to save pride. Poor lad."

Violette lets Icarus goes … and the poor hybrid face-plants on the table, right into the newspaper, dazed.

Envoy watches in… shock? "That is not how you share bacon, Violette!" she notes. "He hasn't even brushed his teeth yet!"

"I was just teasing him," Violette claims, "He made cute noises. Sorry."

"Yes, definitely a chaperone," Envoy notes, and starts nibbling on her waffle… if taking big bites counts as nibbling. "Maybe Rising-Star or Setting-Sun should go along. They seem responsible… "

"Murgleblurthnurp?" goes Icarus, whom is still face down on the newspaper. He pushes himself upright and peers at the paper, blinking. He shakes his head, then peers at it again. "Weird," he remarks.

"Can I see that?" Envoy asks Icarus, pointing to the newspaper after she finishes off the first waffle.

Icarus shakes his head, blinks, then slides it over to Envoy. "Sure. There's a picture on that page that is … you'll see," he says. The page is an article on hospital that just received commendation for eighty years service to the populace, most notably children. It's currently being run by one Alice Demara, the granddaughter of the hospital's founder according to the article. There's even a picture of her accepting the award. It's a woman in her later forties, if Envoy had to guess and the reason for Icarus' blink becomes apparent soon enough given the picture bears a marked resemblance to the statue of Elsa Daedalus. Yes, there are differences, but the facial structure is rather close.

"Walter, we're going to town as well," Envoy says. "I… need a new dress after the last was ruined. And it will let us keep an eye on the children."

Sproing! goes Walter's odd contraption and soon Icarus has his own waffle. Walter finally takes off his apron and goes to join the breakfast menagerie. "Nothing like a family breakfast!" he quips. The human laughs, though, then adds, "And really, this is nothing like a family breakfast. Why I haven't se- … Back to town? When? Tomorrow? Just for a dress? Do you really need me?"

"Well, if you have work to do I suppose I can manage on my own," Envoy notes. "I'll do the laundry today though. I think I can modify my usual spell to work on grime. And there's something special I need to work on before Icarus goes on his date."

"What's that?" Icarus asks in-between bites of his waffle.

"A jet-pack," Envoy says. "Something you can wear that will let you fly, so that Violette isn't stuck walking."

"No, I can go. I should go. It's not proper for a lady to go into town alone," Walter points out. "And since the man who courts you is not available, I am duty bound to protect you in his stead." The human then blinks a few times, "A flying pack? Without the protection of a ship hull?"

"There'll be a helmet," Envoy notes. She can't come out and tell Walter that Icarus can fly on his own, not with Violette sitting there. She just wants something to make people think he uses a machine to do it.

"I could have the apprentice life mages try to graft wings on him," Violette offers, "They need the practice, so I'm sure I could have it done for free! It might take a few tries, though, and he might look a little funny… "

"Uh, no fiddling with my body!" Icarus squeaks.

"I doubt they have a spare set of wings just lying around," Envoy notes. "A pair of magical detachable ones will be fine. I just have to be careful not to use wax and goose-feathers."

"What?" Icarus asks. Walter, though, laughs. "A well played pun upon his name, Lady Lothryn," Thorndike praises.

"Will you buy me flowers?" Violette asks Icarus. The poor hybrid has his mouth half-full of waffle at the time. All he can do is go wide-eyed and look terrified.

I can use an animated stone enchantment to make some fake wings, Envoy thinks. It should be enough to fool anyone that isn't a mage, and still look mechanical enough to be acceptable by the humans. And we can check the hospital while Icarus is on his date.