by

Yanick Champoux (38%)

Lee Watts (18%)

Josip Nað (17%)

Michel Lacombe (16%)

Dorian (4%)

goldkngt55 (3%)

Andrew Avila (2%)

Marten (1%)

Oliver (1%)

Part 12

Lee Watts (7/11/2001)

"Who the He... Who are you? Where's Byran?" said Demuel, trying to restrain his emotions. Obviously, his planned get-a-way pilot had been replaced. But why the Vau? Were they after the plans that he had downloaded into his internal think machine? He accessed history files, scanning for any other occurrence where the Vau had interfered with in similar operations. With a blank screen flashing in his mind's eye, he stared at the Mandarin.

"He is here," the mandarin said, motioning for the two to follow him up the set of stairs. " He is fulfilling his obligation and duty as pilot. You heard his voice of the transmission system, yes?"

The stairs lead up to the main level, with the rooms for the guards and Demuel assumed for the two of them. Two doors were indicated with a rolling motion of the mandarin's fingers.

"I hope that these accommodations will prove adequate for your needs and comfort. We will be living orbit in a matter of moments. If my understanding of your situation is correct, madam, you will find medication and water in the room to the left. There is also data terminals for your usage, sir. You will need to purge as must data storage as possible before your next mission." The Mandarin smiled, if you could call it a smile.

"What are you talking about?" Mad said, appearing shocked. "What situation are you inferring?"

"Your malady of space travel, madam. You tend to get sick during space flight."

"I've never traveled through space, why I have never been off planet. How can you say that I get sick when I've never ..." And then she felt it. A ripping sensation at her stomach as the anti-grave units kicked on and her stomach tried to leap from her throat. Demuel noticed that she turned a dreadful shade of green and he had to catch her as she almost crumpled to the floor under the assault of the anti-grave.

"As the rites have foretold," the mandarin said to the guards, raising his hands with their palms open toward the heavens. Demuel helped Mad into her room, found the bottle of pills and gave them to her with some water. Demuel heard chants come from the hallway in a language he did not understand. Mad lay down on the cot and Demuel quietly closed the door behind him. Turning away from her door, he came face-to-face with the mandarin.

"Understand that this mission that you are about to undertake was foretold before your grandfather's grandfather was born," whispered the mandarin as he held Demuel's right arm. "The stars are right now for your future to berevealed and for the mission of humanity to right their greatest wrong. I can not tell you much, for that could alter the course of history and condemn all sentient life to the doom of the Forever Dark."

The mandarin released Demuel's arm and began to leave.

"Who are you?"

"My name is of no importance. But you may call me 'Shepherd.' Sleep, child. You will need your strength and courage. Tend your wounds. We will talk more once we have passed through the holy conduit." Shepherd entered his room and closed the door, leaving Demuel standing alone in the hallway.