Chapter Four

Angel impatiently bounced up and down in her chair, feeling as though she was going to burst. “What is it?” she nearly demanded. “What are they saying now?”

Miles eyes squinted, his green ear still plastered against the ceiling. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “The last bit was said so softly that I couldn’t grasp it.” His face became grave – or as grave as the good-natured gargoyle’s expression could. “But whatever was said, they don’t seem to be happy about it.”

Angel stared forward, lost in thought. “I think I know what it was.” Her heart caught in her throat as Miles eyes questioned her. “I bet it was the children.”

His face was blank. “What children?” Then, watching her, his eyes began to bulge. “What, you don’t mean the children? The seven?”

Her face answered his question. “Of course,” she said. “What else could it possibly be?”

“Brought here as children?” Miles made a derogatory noise. “Well, hell. There goes the Resistance.”

Angel’s face quickly frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I don’t mean to offend anyone’s sentimentalities. But the children?” He sighed thoughtfully. “Right now, with everything that’s happening and everything to come, they are sincerely the last thing the Resistance needs. Cordeina’s near completely assumed. Murlock has been annihilated for years now, and now they’re moving on to Fordayn?” Miles shook his head. “We don’t even have the resources to care for our own. How could we watch over seven aliens from the planet Earth?”

Angel looked confused. “You have to believe that whatever Retsamemit decrees is best.”

“I will admit he’s never led us astray.” His eyes formed a curious stare. “But have you ever seen the way his eyes light up when he talks about those prophecies?”

Angel nodded, placating her friend. “I’ll admit it’s a little odd.”

The gargoyle shifted uncomfortably. “It’s downright disturbing. He may have been immortal at one point, but he’s not anymore. He’s mortal. Just like you and me, and that means he’s fallible just like I am and you are.”

Angel frowned. “He left paradise to save us. While we may not understand his words, they are those of the Gods. We need to listen to him.”

“We need generals for our armies,” Miles said, still in the midst of his rant. “Not hatchlings to tuck in before we read them a bedtime story.”

“They’re seventeen. That’s older than we are.”

“Angel, you’ve never been to Earth. Do you know what seventeen years is in their respective cultures?” Miles argued. “Infantile. They have no responsibility in their time periods. And the only one of them who even stood a chance to become wiser than her years is the worst of them all. They would be a destructive force, not a saving one.”

“You can’t know that,” she said.

“Oh, trust me, I know. I’ve seen the evidence.”

Angel didn’t want to spend all day arguing with Miles, but she didn’t want to give in either. “Well, Retsamemit mentioned before that he thought it would be best if they were taken during their adolescence,” she said stubbornly. “Besides, you know everything that happens after that time. No telling how they would respond if taken after twenty.”

“But children?” Miles asked incredulously. “He has really lost it.”

Angel’s face went cold. “Watch yourself,” she warned.

Miles froze.

Angel strode away from the table, her voice cautionary. “Don’t you dare talk about our savior that way.”

Miles sighed deeply, sitting down on the cold granite table. “Angel.” She turned around to listen to him. “Don’t think that I’ve stopped appreciating everything he’s done for us. If he told me to go to the depths of some all-compassing hell and back, I’d do it twice just to see that loving, approving smile of his once more, just like any of us would. He gave us back our worlds, our lives, our hopes. I love him because of who he is as well as what he’s done.” The gargoyle gave a distinct pause. “But there’s a difference between loving someone and encouraging them to take a path to destruction, just to save pride.”

Noise from upstairs cut their conversation short, and Miles bounded up on tiptoe once more to listen in. “Okay, they’re leaving,” he quickly explained. He sighed, rolling his eyes as he listened for clues. “Nothing important, nothing important, something about getting to their transports, idle conversation, worried voices…” Angel waited patiently for something of substance.

“Okay,” Miles said suddenly. “It’s just Apocsey and Retsamemit. Poc’s requested to speak with him personally.”

“Just what Retsamemit needs,” Angel said sarcastically. “Another Apocsey-induced heart-attack.”

Miles sent her a sideways smile. “Poc’s not that bad.”

“She’s dangerous,” Angel said sullenly. She crossed her arms and looked to the side. “I don’t trust her.”

Miles studied the Dimarkarig. “You’re not still holding that prior commitment against her, are you?”

Angel looked as if Miles had just questioned whether she was considering killing woodland animals for ritual. “Of course not,” she said. “Apocsey was more than sincere in her redemption.”

The gargoyle didn’t understand. “Then what’s the problem?”

Angel chose her words carefully. “She’s unstable. That Amentian could lose her marbles at any minute,” she whispered. “And I don’t think a ticking time-bomb is what the Resistance needs right now.”

Tight hands suddenly grabbed Angel around the waist. “BOOM!”

Angel gasped and jumped into Miles’ arms.

Mark, the ten-year-old Dimarkarig wonder, fell over laughing, his freckled limbs shaking as he pounded his fist against the floor.

Miles smirked, looking down at the boy with amusement. “Revenge of the munchkins continues...” “If you could have seen the looks on your faces…” Mark got out between breaths. “What I wouldn’t have given for a vid-recorder!”

Angel looked upon her brother sternly. “Mark, how long were you listening?”

He looked up, grinning mischievously. “Long enough to get both your behinds in deep excrement with Poc and the pixie wings of death!” he shouted energetically, bringing his arms around to mirror Apocsey’s fluttering wings. He continued to laugh as Miles affectionately lifted him by the back of his shirt and hoisted him up on his shoulders.

Miles looked to Angel, smiling. “You have to admit it was pretty funny.”

“About as funny as an intergalactic apocalypse,” she muttered.

Mark gave a fake impressed gasp, still giggling. “Wow. Big English. You been up studying late on recreation night?”

Miles ruffled the boy’s red hair. “Keep up your lessons, and yours’ll be as remarkable as your sister’s someday.”

“It’s the slang I have problems with,” Mark said with a sigh. “After learning to speak ‘Amentis’, basic English is easy. I mean, no wonder Apocsey’s got such a brick house jammed up her rear.” He grinned, proud that he slipped in a sting of vernacular. “Twenty-five years of having to learn fifty-four ways of saying ‘diplomatic immunity’? I’d be cranky, too.”

Angel smiled sideways. Sometimes she wondered how such a refined, intellectual planet had birthed a strange creature as her ten-year-old brother. Mark hopped down off of the gargoyle’s back as they began walking down the hallways of the Resistance. He waited a second before asking, “So aren’t you going to tell me?”

The two turned to face each other, choosing their words cautiously. “Aside from what your sister speculates, there’s not too much to tell,” Miles answered.

Mark was too smart to buy it. “C’mon. There must have been something else. You guys were in there for hours.” At their continued silence, the young one heaved a sigh. “Oh, come on. It’ll virtually be public knowledge by tomorrow morning anyway.” Angel smirked. The news could at one point become mere facts and figures for young Mark, but not for the rest of the galaxy. The Resistance was careful with their information.

Miles looked to Angel, asking for permission. “We may as well,” he told her. “That is, if he swears not to rat.”

“I would never.” His eyes checked skyward. “Well, maybe on Angel, but not on you,” he amended.

Angel rolled her eyes, and then smiled. As much as she never let on how much she secretly enjoyed playing the role of the cautious older sister, in the presence of Miles and Mark she was allowed the fleeting luxury of youth and silliness, games she gave up long ago to follow the Resistance and its cause. Their close friendship birthed a release Angel never could hope to find in her responsibilities.

Miles face turned serious as did Mark’s as he continued. “The news is nothing amusing,” he warned.

It took all of Mark’s energy, but his impish expression became solemn. “I would never tell another living soul.”

Relenting, Miles’ voice fell to a whisper. “Zempei’s been attacked.”

Mark instantly became upset. “Attacked? But Clara-”

“We didn’t hear them mention her,” Angel said quickly, putting a hand on her brother’s head affectionately. She bent down to his height as her voice became soft and reassuring. “Besides, I’m sure we would have felt something had she not made it over the valley in time. And if we hadn’t, Retsamemit surely would have.”

Mark’s eyes widened uncertainly at the mention of his master. “I dunno,” he said. “Old Rets’ hasn’t been too reliable recently.”

Angel put her hands on her hips. “Now, who told you that?” Stopping in her tracks, Angel immediately turned to cast an accusing glance at Miles. “What sort of politics have you been feeding my little brother?”

“Only the best?” he asked, innocently putting up his arms.

Angel heaved a sigh as Mark continued. “Attacked…” he repeated, shaking his head. “Where’ll they go?” Before they could answer, his eyes widened all the more. “Cordeina would take them in.”

“Cordeina’s no better off themselves,” Miles reminded him.

“Both Cordeina and Zempei’s refugees will be relocated to Fordayn,” Angel told him. “By Dante’s decree. Tell no one.”

Mark made a wincing sound. “That’s not going to help his situation any.”

“No,” Angel said sincerely. “It’s not.” Even as she spoke the words, Angel knew in his position she would have done the same, or made matters worse with her own humanitarian inclinations. “His people are losing hope. They’ll revolt if he doesn’t come to his senses.”

Miles looked at her. “You’ve been pretty critical of the board lately.”

Angel sighed. “It’s probably an unconscious reaction to the fact that I’m not on it anymore,” she deduced.

They walked into the Resistance apprentice’s main study hall. In retrospect, the title of the room was a poor one. Though its original purpose had been for meditation and study, in actuality the lounge was used for anything but. Over the years, the huge study hall had been transformed into a gathering place for apprentices both young and old to chat, laugh, and joke between classes, or more realistically, between battles and close encounters with the Emptiness. In response, the board had at first tried to enforce the area as a place of quiet meditation and lessons, but despite their attempts, the lounge continued to serve as a place of release and laughter for all those who met there. Seeing as how the place grew to hold many important memories for the students, and it was eventually kept the way it had grown.

As the three apprentices created a twisting path through running fourth-levels, swivel-boards, couches, and benches, Miles broke the silence between them. “Your speculations are sound,” he told Angel. “But we’ll have to give the situation more logical approach.”

Angel quirked an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you hope to accomplish that?”

He grinned. “I’ll have to prompt Apocsey into giving me information about it.”

Angel gave a snort. “Well, of course, I mean it’s worked so well in the past…”

“Hey,” Miles said, feigning a blow to his ego. “I am the master of couth.”

Angel grinned. “Maybe more the master of klutz. What about the time you crashed that four-speeder into the dining hall?”

Mark snickered, his face scrunching together puckishly. “I still remember when we ran after you. All you could see was the steering plate sticking out of a huge pot of boiling strenzine stew.” He giggled. “To this day, students still find lug nuts in their Cream of Cropina.”

“Or how you dug through the wrong plot while you were head of construction and hit through that water main because you had the plans upside-down?” Angel reminded.

Falling behind, Mark ran to catch up with them. “Still, points should be given because you did save yourself by explaining that you were merely installing a decorative water fountain.”

Miles chuckled. “To this day, that fountain gives the third floor a nice touch.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ve had my run-ins with disaster. But you do have to admit that I can be smooth when I have to be.”

“Yeah, like when?” Angel challenged, enjoying their banter.

“What about the time I found out that Dante could shape-shift? Or all the countless months of work that I accomplished painting the ceilings in the upstairs conservatories? Oh, or when I was granted passage into that meeting because they found me hiding behind the door?”

Angel arched her eyebrow. “And just because of that, you think Apocsey’s going to fall for some clever ruse?”

Miles put up his hands. “Well, how else are we supposed to find out if the children are getting here or not?”

Mark gave a confused look. “What children?”

Sparing a moment to shock, Angel sent an accusing glance to Miles before frowning. “I don’t know. Why don’t we ask the master of couth?”

Lost for words, Miles merely gave a shrug. “Sorry.”

The ten-year-old immediately became excited at the mention of children entering into the apprenticeship program. “Prime,” he drug out the word. “Are they my age? When are they coming?”

Aside from Angel’s death glare to Miles, neither of them exchanged any hint as what the gargoyle’s words meant.

However, Mark’s mind was a quick one, and slowly but surely, he began to understand. “They were talking about it at the meeting,” he said. “You think he means the seven.” The words were said with a reverence used only by the deeply religious.

“Unsubstantiated gossip,” Angel reminded him.

Mark’s eyes held bewilderment. “But if he can take them at any age, why would Retsamemit want to take them in as children?”

“He may not want to take them at all,” Angel stressed.

“Was this something you felt?”

“It was just an idea.”

Mark eyes looked at her from the side. “But you felt it?”

“Of course, I did. I was given one piece of information, and I felt like entertaining other distant possibilities. Hence, how sentient beings form ideas,” she said as if speaking to a three-year-old. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s no guarantee.”

Mark looked her up and down, his eyes wide with respect for his sister. “But with you there is.”

“You’ll regret this later,” she said softly.

“How old?” Mark asked excitedly.

Angel looked hurt, as if she had been accused of something terrible. “I don’t know.”

Though he thought better of it, Miles spoke up. “I remember you said seventeen.”

Mark looked impressed. “She even came up with an age?” He smiled at her, adoringly. “Really, we need to start recording.”

Frowning, Angel began to worry about the consequences of being wrong. What if all this was merely a fabrication? She couldn’t bear to get her brother’s hopes up only to crush them. “Believe what you want, but the children aren’t coming until Retsamemit says they are.”

Mark barely heard a word that his sister had said. “It all makes so much sense. We’ve been preparing for their arrival for so long, especially the apprentices. Why shouldn’t they be ones that we could take care of and teach about the worlds here?”

Miles smiled down at him. “Just because they’re helpless doesn’t mean that they’re going to want your help, little imp.”

“They will once they see how advanced I am.” His words were not so much arrogant as frank. Mark was wise beyond his years. “You know, I’ll bet anything that’s the cause of the unrest everyone seems to be feeling around here recently,” Mark said, as they exited the lounge and loomed down a narrow hallway into the dormitories. His voice became louder against the empty corridor. “Everyone’s on edge. Can’t you feel it?”

Identical doorways containing identical rooms passed them as they reached their quarters. Angel opened her door before returning to her brother. “Yes,” she agreed. “But there are many factors which could cause such anxiety, especially the attack on Fordayn and the lives lost there today.” She became somber. “Which I suggest you meditate upon this afternoon.”

Mark’s expression became serious along with his sister’s. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, you’re right. Will do.” Going into his room, he exchanged an affectionate wink with Miles and closed the door behind him.

Looking to Miles, Angel gave a tired smile. “And I’m about to do the same,” she said. She cleared her throat, and her voice dropped an octave. “Miles, I really do appreciate everything you did for me this afternoon.”

The gargoyle’s face broke into a smile. “No sweat,” he said. “You’d do the same for me in a bind.”

Angel gave a chuckle. Standing between their doorways, an awkward silence settled in about the two. It was a rare occurrence, and Angel found that while they were close friends, discussing how close their friendship was only made them recognize the fear they had of losing it.

She struggled to find a conversation topic, and then almost gasped when one presented itself. “So how was your trip to the breeding grounds?” she asked in an overly interested tone.

“Oh!” Miles exclaimed. “I didn’t tell you about it? Poc and I just got back today. We looked in on the two who work in book loans.” Without warning, he suddenly darted into his room. The sounds of rummaging reached the hallway and moments later, Miles emerged with strange black eye-shields on top of his head. Grinning, he raised his eyebrows so that the shields dropped below his eyes. “Check these out,” he said, his hands presenting them on both sides. He pushed them up so that they covered his eyes. “They’re called ‘shades.’ They’re the newest craze.”

Nodding slowly and backing away, Angel exaggeratedly raised her eyebrows before turning back into her room.

Miles smile dropped. “What? You don’t think they’re cool?”

The door to her dormitory playfully shut.

The gargoyle’s shoulders slouched as he heaved a sigh. “She doesn’t think they’re cool.” he muttered to himself. Then, he ran up to her door, shouting, “Angel, how can you not think these are the very definition of awesomundo?”

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