Do Fixers Dream of Electric Ghosts?...

[Demenzia]

There's a face in the glass
Looking through the mirror
At the maze of my past
It was never clearer

On the distant horizon
The storm approaches
Better cover my eyes
Better...

- Styx -

[Demenzia]

Sora. Akai sora...

The sky... the red sky - all around - all above. Looking at the sky. Listening to its silent song.

I am the sky. I am the immensity above. I spread my phantom wings, and soar on the wind, and listen to the sky passing in me, through me. Brilliant colors, all around. Sounds never heard before. A voice in me, in my head, in my heart. I feel like singing. Like flying. Like escaping in the neverending space.

I feel like I should remember something, but I am unable to.

Who am I? What do I want? Why am I here? Why do I feel so free, free like I've never been, free from every form of physical constraint? The sky should be blue, blue like this glittering place which I love so much, but which name I cannot remember... Why is it red? Why is it so appealing, yet so threatening at the same time?...

Suna. Kooru suna...

The sand is cold. As cold as death. The cold sand - all around - all above, and under. I'm hearing the sand. Its song is one of danger and murder, of a screaming and dying land, and I cannot forget it. Fading colors. A reddish haze before my eyes. I am the sand. I am the wind. And I fly. And I fly. And I fly.

I feel like I'm missing something. Something important. Getting out. But why this... am I not already 'outside'? The song is sad now, as sad as this cold ball of rock, sand and dust. Sand is everywhere here, even in the heart of the cities. Sand will become sand again. And I cannot escape its voice.

This world is odd. But it is my world now.

Are wa yume... soretomo maboroshi?...

Is it a dream... or an illusion? I can only remember love, and solitude, and sadness. I am not as free as I thought. I am not exactly myself now. They did something to me, and I don't know what it is, and I fear, for I know that what they did is dangerous. Danger. The meaning of 'danger'. What is 'danger'. Is this place 'dangerous'? Is it 'dangerous' for me only, or for other people as well?

People. The crowd. The heart of the world. I am not of the sand. I am of the crowd. I must not forget it. This is not sand - this is... only myself. Drifting like my thoughts. Drifting like... carried by the wind.

Hitotsume no kotoba wa 'yume'...

The first word is 'dream'. The second word is 'wind'. The third word... the third word, what is it? Is it 'life'? Is it 'death'? Is it 'memory', or 'loneliness', maybe?

Futatsume no kotoba wa 'kaze'...

If I can't find the third word back, I'll never be able to really wake up. I will go on staring at the dreams. Forever. Yumemiru. To look at a dream. To read a dream. An old word, a word from my past.

And I fall. And I fall. And I fall...

[Lauri]

“nnnf..”

Raquel murmured softly, clutching something in her arms. The object was cold and metallic, but smooth and precise. Suddenly, she felt a sting in her left leg, then her shoulders. Clutching the object harder, she fought the pain and tried her best to concentrate on a mark burned upon her vision. Then, out of nowhere, a wave of notum burst toward her and singed the skin beneath her Elite Issue armours. She recognized the pain of a horrifying nano program, probably run by the nanotech near the bunker. She saw several others, clad in Elite, fall beside her.. as her own life drained from her current physical shell. Her head made a thud upon the outpost floor and the fuzzy existence that was “hitting reclaim” overtook her. Staring up at the terminal, her vision blurred and readjusted, Raquel began to wonder when the terminals had started beeping upon one’s arrival.
Raq blinked and furrowed her brow, horribly confused..

“What is that.. that.. beeping.. argh..”

Her eyes snapped open, something twisting inside her gut. She let go of the mangled pillow in her arms and sat up, her nap apparently not having been much comfort. She heard voices over her wrist-comm, panicky voices, that made a painful lump form in her throat. The beeping continued, and she frantically reached for her wrist to flip on her voice channel, if not just to end the blasted noise.

“The hell’s going on?”, ..she was worried, and partly annoyed. Annoyed at what she suspected had happened, and who was involved. They couldn’t think they’d get away with this.. not.. not really. She thought a moment to earlier in the evening, one of them casually asking her if she knew “Demenzia ”. She knew something would end up happening, but she was unsure as to how or why.

“Damnit, they took her! They took Jen!”, Irvin practically shouted at her through the earpiece. She winced as he explained further, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

They had taken her, and it seemed they didn’t appreciate being snooped upon. She knew who to contact first. It was horribly obvious and had his name, at least, written all over it. Raquel turned down the volume of the organization channel, then tapped a few keys to contact “him”.

“Naughty, naughty, Valaik. Tsk.”, she spoke quietly into her comm.
“Hmm? You don’t think I should hang this painting here? But the light brings out the colors so well.”, he returned to her across the channel.

Raquel sighed, knowing that Val must be either off his rocker tonight or taunting her foolishly. She repeated his riddles over the organization channel and adjusted the volume again. It was time to get to work, and Raq quietly thanked Buffy for the small nap she managed to steal, even if it wasn’t too restful. She swooped up her OT Boomer and quickly slipped out the door to hurry herself to Omn-Entertainment, the last location Jen was seen.. eventually running into Corrine. Corr, completely clad in her suit of Elite, Tank, and Div9 in hand, was eager to assist, and Raquel was eager to have an available Security Operative. She expected some trouble if they actually managed to find them...

“Alright, locations need to be checked.. Irvin, hit the fixers' side of the grid....”, she spoke into her comm before quickly hunting down the nearest grid terminal.

"Riddles Clocks Watches and Rhymes, Everyone has their fun, as will I have mine.", Valaik had said. As her DNA was restructured to be streamed into the Grid, Raquel silently hoped she would have her own fun, soon.

"They took her..."

[Demenzia]

The smell of fire and cinders, the wind gushing between the sandy dunes, the silence... deep, complete silence. And cold metal against her cheek.

She slowly opened her eyes, shivering in spite of the heat under her heavy coat. It was hot - hot and dry, all around her, the air thick with dust, the darkness oppressing. Her blurred vision wouldn't adjust, only letting her discern shadows and shapes. Stiffling a whimper, she raised a trembling hand, not noticing that this movement caused grains of sand to rustle between the folds of her coat. Shattered glass under her fingers, too, the absence of pain making her realize that she was wearing gloves. Oddly enough, the idea of having blood on her hands distracted her a little from the terrible headache, from her pounding temples, from the cold that seemed to come from inside her now. Blood on her hand, when she had passed it on her forehead.... why was that? Another long shiver ran down her spine, making the thought disappear; she let her arm fall again, numb with pain and tiredness, her right shoulder oddly stiff, and stayed unmoving, unblinking eyes staring at the darkness, drawing short breaths being all that she was able to do at the moment.

After a time that seemed an eternity, she finally managed to sit and look around her, trying to clear her thoughts. Her head was hurting so much, the world beginning to spin around her if she moved too fast, forcing her to stay quiet for a long moment again, queasy, waiting for the nausea to pass. She couldn't remember where she was, nor why she was in this 'where'. A cavern? A small room? Darkness. Metal. Grains of sand. And no hint of why she had been lying here, on metal and shattered glass, with blood on her forehead and in her dishevelled hair, her eyes unable to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. Why did it hurt so much... why did she have the feeling, the growing feeling, that she was dying in here... the air so thick and so dry that her lungs were refusing to breathe it any longer...

Panick rolled over her in a sudden, unexpected wave; in a rush, she jumped off where she was sitting - and fell heavily on the floor, feeling so dizzy that her legs gave way a second before she could realize it, unable to carry her further. She had been half-sitting, half lying on what now appeared to be a seat, and acting that quickly hadn't really been a good idea. Fortunately the vertigo was fading a little now; crawling on her elbows, her blood-stained fingers looking for something, anything, that would help her, her attention span now narrowed on the only idea of getting out, she began to search. Something. Anything! And then her hand met a wall, sooner than expected; if she was in a room, then it was a really small one, for she hadn't even enough space to stretch her arm now. Panick, panick, over and over again; another whimper began to raise in her throat, before, all of a sudden, the wall gave way under her hand, a heavy curtain of sand fell before her eyes, and the bright light of the twin suns blinded her, forcing her to back up and to raise her hands in a sheer reflex to shield her face and her head.

For a long minute, she kept her eyes closed, the only idea of looking around her frightening her now even more, gasping for an air that was even dryer than the one she had been breathing inside. At least, inthe darkness, she knew where she was; she hadn't to face the brief but terrifying vision she had had before looking at the suns. The vision of void, of emptiness, of solitude. Violently shivering now, she grinded her teeth, forcing herself to at least look at her hands, at the odd clothes she was wearing. It looked like a dark coat; it looked, also, as her other clothes were way heavier than it. Armor? Her head felt so empty, as empty as the sky above her. Gathering her sense the best she could, she looked around her this time, blinking in the violent light. At least it was allowing her to look at what was in the room behind her. A few backpacks - a few packs of dried food, maybe - then, a few steps further, a small canteen, the likes of which were used to carry equipment. Moved by a growing curiosity now - anything, anything that would allow her to focus on something else than pain!... - she took a closer look at it, and at the small screen near the lock. The thing was seemingly broken now, and no sooner had she touched it that it suddenly opened, revealing an item carefully packed... an item that appeared to be a gun. Odd-looking, and making her feel at unease. Quite bulky, yet appearing lighter than expected, when she hesitantly took it. Was it hers? She wondered how the heck she could carry something like this, and the only thought of using it made her feel dizzy again.

Hell, but her head hurt!...

She slowly got back on her feet, staggering, almost falling on the ground again; it was hard standing up, she could only walk carefully, not too fast, not too far. The crude light of the suns made her blink again, and she wished she had something else than her hand to shield her eyes. Sand was all around. Sand, dunes, the yellow immensity of the sky above her. Sand, as far as the eye could see. She felt like crying. This could only be a nightmare. What was she doing here... Why was she here? She wiped her forehead, wincing, feeling weaker than she'd have thought; another wave of nausea made her fall on her knees again, a hand pressed against her mouth, eyes shut on the flashing colors dancing in her head now. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe she was hurt. What was certain was that if she stayed here, standing in the sun, she would very likely faint again; and it was a very bad idea to faint in the middle of the desert.

For a few more minutes, she considered her situation. She couldn't seem to think very quickly, as if she needed long seconds to figure out anything that came to her mind. Yes... gathering thoughts was hard, harder than expected. Her frown slightly grew, as she wondered for at least the tenth time why she was in the desert. Not any desert, but one so big, so wide, that wandering in it on foot would be signing her death. Nobody would go to such a place without a mean of coming back to where they went from. Another thought worssed her mind, hard to catch. The place she had been lying earlier on... She slowly turned to the door again, trying to discern in the half darkness what kind of place it could be. Buried in the sand, certainly looking like but another dune from the sky; odds had been that she had opened it from the inside, and this was a chance, for she wasn't sure she could have found the metallic panel under the thick layer of sand, nor have the strength of forcing it.

The suns were becoming hotter and hotter, the atmosphere really burning her lungs this time. A vehicle, maybe? She staggered to the hatch, outstretching a hand not to fall, her mind so clouded that all the she could think of now was to find shelter from the sun and air again. Then, all of a sudden, the Soldier appeared on the top of the dune, facing her. Their eyes met for a second, a second of eternity, wary, but also surprised looks. She felt a tight knot in her guts, recognizing his bulky frame as one of an Atrox, and knowing by instinct that he wouldn't let her free, nor alive. This very thought filled her with a deep, terrible fear, yet she was completely unable to move.

When he raised his gun, she gasped for air, and simply closed her eyes shut, too frightened to do anything else than awaiting the lethal shot...

[Demenzia]

His thoughts snapped out of the darkness in the blink of an eye, and he realized that he wasn't as dead as he would have thought at first.

Good. As long as he was aware of himself, it meant that she was still alive - or at least he hoped so, because he had already been deceived on this point once. Thinking was hard. Remembering... Yes. If he was careful enough not to think too fast, contrary to his usual self, he could begin to gather the information again. Memories. Going back to what had taken place in the previous few days. Somehow, it took him a long moment to remember clearly what had happened, why he was there, and what they had been up to, which disturbed him to an extent he had seldom felt. He had been thinking so fast, since his death, that reverting back to this... slow mode was worrying.

She was awaking as well now. Dazzled, confused, hurt, queasy - the feelings crashed on him at the same moment, and he suddenly felt like dizzy as well, a reflection of her own health. Stop thinking, girl. Stop thinking. Let me remember. Let me think quietly. But she wasn't listening. As if... as if she couldn't hear him, or maybe was she still too confused to be able to? Things could have been worse, much worse, yet he feared that if they didn't do something very quickly to help in improving the circumstances, this could very well change, and sooner than expected.

He began to feel at unease. Something, some old instinct, was telling him that something had gone wrong... terribly wrong. He couldn't... perceive herpresence as he was used to, and the fact that she didn't answer as she was used to was only making this thought stronger.

"Dee?..."

He kept silent during long seconds, awaiting an answer, but nothing came. Her mind and body were still suffering too much from the aftereffects... maybe this could explain it. Oh, he'd make them pay what they had done to her; sooner or later, he would, and he didn't care about who had initiated the hostilities. He had nothing else left than her; she was all to him, and for her, he'd commit anything - even the worst deeds. As she however was looking around her, trying to figure out where she was, he noticed grains of sand, on her hands, her knees, on the seat where she had collapsed, reminding him of what had happened before he also dived into the darkness of unconsciousness. And for the first time since... long, long years, he began to really fear. This wasn't normal. This wasn't her regular mental state. This wasn't like anything they had lived through together, and if the odds put a Sandworm or an Anun on their way, she'd certainly suffer more than she'd have to in...

"Dee... Onegai... Dee!"

She was afraid - no, frightened to death. Lost, and frightened, and made unable to think clearly. Fine job this man had done. Fine job, really! and knowing exactly where to hit... piercing her shoulder through the trenchcoat, exactly under the part where the upper Flowers sleeve ended, as if well informed about her clothing habits. She couldn't have resisted, anyways; her scrambled NCU unit had already been much to cope with, her phasing broken so suddenly that at first she hadn't even been able to focus on the horrors they were threatening her with, before they took her away. And this guy who had... wanted to even rip her eyes and keep them in a jar!... He swore it, if he one day had a chance to, he'd rip something else from him. Bastards. Traitors. Oh, yes, he'd make them pay. Nobody had the right to touch her!

He become aware that she had now managed to open the hatch, and discovered in sheer terror the desert, the wide desert where they had landed. No, this definitely wasn't like her, like the woman who had one day said that she was always doing her best not to panick, because panic only led to disaster and mind killing. She had behaved bravely, as bravely as one could have in such circumstances. But strength and courage could only last for a moment... and even him couldn't ignore it when the attack was as violent and... quick as it had been.

Well... At least she wasn't completely devoid of all means of surviving in here. He silently thanked the sleek aircraft, though he knew the machine wouldn't be of great help anymore now; the raw driving IA built in it, the one she had modified as soon as she had got the plane, had met its duty, which had certainly saved their live... of this, he couldn't complain. Ah. There. She had found the gun. It was always good to keep one in store - in store, and in safety. The lock hadn't resisted the... the shock?... yet it was a good thing, for he wasn't sure she'd have remembered the code to open it.

Thinking. Thinking was becoming hard again. He needed to focus, to focus on something while she was unable to, even if he couldn't ignore her weakness for very long. They were sharing the same body, after all, and though himself being dead was preventing him from feeling downsides such as pain or tiredness, he was still dependent on it.

She gave a sudden start, and this brought him back to what was in front of them. A Soldier from the Clans - a patroller certainly, though they were surely deep enough in the desert for him not being venturing very far from his companions. Once again, he didn't need more than a fraction of second to realize that all was too wrong. Normally, she wouldn't have looked twice. She'd have either killed him before he could aim at her, or simply get out of his reach.

When she closed her eyes, just like a frightened child would have done, he understood that it was time for him to act.

He simply couldn't leave her die.

[Demenzia]

She opened her eyes once again, feeling as if someone had suddenly dropped her on the ground without bothering to check if she could stand by herself or not.

She wasn't dead. She wasn't dead, and that was, in this moment, all that could matter to her. She let a long sigh, wondering, in deep confusion, why this was the case - why she was still alive. She wondered, until her gaze fell on the Atrox, curled on the ground at her feet with eyes almost bulging out of his head too small for his big body. Hands clutched at his stomach, he was staring at her with a single, inexpressive eye. The otehr part of his face... She gasped for air at the sight, feeling sick again all of a sudden, yet as she was raising a hand to her mouth, this move made her realize that she was now holding the gun - the gun, still pointed at the Soldier, still pointed to where the shot had hit. It wasn't a bullet that had been fired, given the horrible burns on his chest and face. It certainly wasn't a bullet!...

Still gasping for air, she took a step backwards. Had she... killed him? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything. Neither why she was clad in full set of armor under her coat, nor why she owned such a weapon - and knew how to use it, seemingly. Neither why she had exited of a vehicle half-buried in the sand behind her, nor why Atroxes Soldiers were scouting the deep desert. A wave of queasiness rolled over her again, made even worse by her growing headache. Fear crept in her like a silent spider, fear, but also disgust at undestanding, despite all her efforts not to, that she no doubt was the one who had killed this unknown man.

How came that she knew how to use the weapon? ...Gamma ray generator. Focused blasts of gamma ray radiation. Cause horrible wounds... The cold thought, snapping out of nowhere, made her back up a scream - it wasn't possible. She couldn't know this! She couldn't...

Her hands began to shake, and she barely managed to prevent herself from letting the gun fall on the ground. Surely she was a murderer... someone used to kill... a murderer on the run, maybe... trying to escape in the desert... trying to...

The terrible realization hit her so strongly that she took a step back, feeling the immensity rush on her as if to engulf her wholly. Her legs wobbled and gave way again, and she found herself kneeled on the burning sand, looking around her frantically in a new burst of panic, slightly panting.

She didn't even know her own name.

Despite the intense heat, she began to shiver, clutching the gun with both hands, as if it was the only thing that could still protect her in this world. She was only held by one certainty now - if someone was to discover her, she'd been killed without a warning. She didn't want to die, yet she didn't want to kill again, either. In a hazy state, almost feverishly, she crawled back on her knees to the buried vehicle, her gloved hands frenetically searching for the still half-opened hatch. She had to take shelter somewhere, in case other men would arrive, and this wasn't worse a place than anywhere else.

When she finally managed to slide in the vehicle, she simply collapsed on the pilot seat again, taking her head between her hands with a long sob, and staying unmoving, curled on herself, trying to ignore the desperate fact that she was alone, endangered, and oblivious of what she should do to get out of this situation.

She didn't even know her own name!...

[Gridstatic]

Gridgrinderr looked up from his datapad displaying the local gridfeed with a sigh. "two days", he muttered to himself. He'd been sitting in Rompa again, feeling a bit more confident of his chances of getting away if things got ugly. Still, even though he wasn't quite looking forward to his and Demenzia's meeting, he was still a bit worried that he hadn't heard anything from the Fixer since she asked him to come to Rompas. She seemed pretty intent on catching him, and to just not show up like this..something was wrong. He decided, opening up his private comm channels and his wristpad, to send her a message:
"Hey, it's Gridgrinderr, jus' wonderin where ya've been. Hope I can meet with ya soon, Jen."
He sent the message, and got up and walked out of Rompas.

[Demenzia]

He was so tired now... more than he would have expected to.

It was an odd feeling - being able to actually be aware of such a state. Of course, he always knew when she was tired, when her body couldn't carry her anymore, when she needed sleep or simply a little rest
with friends or in her appartment. Yet this time, it was slightly different, and he was able to perceive the difference.

He would have liked to sleep... to let himself drown within her own sleep, within her own dreams... and if the feeling of urge and danger hadn't been so strong, he'd surely have done it. Why was it so hard to do something as simple as thinking?... He tried to remember what he had done. Not very different than... the other times, except that... Except that it had been harder, because she hadn't been asleep. The realization came with the thought: it was way easier when she was sleeping... yet he could do it when she wasn't, even if the whole process was more difficult. He had to keep that in mind... but he hadn't had
much choice when the Soldier had appeared, anyways, hitting on her mind with a strength increased by his own fear of losing her, which wasn't a very good idea; however, though the reason why they had landed in the desert was still too blurred for him to really remember it, the old instincts, once again, were telling him that if she died... maybe this time it'd be for good. He had to check first, and for this, he needed a terminal, because her body at the moment wouldn't be able to hold a remote connexion to the wide network of the Grid.

He wondered for a few seconds if, maybe, it wouldn't have been better to simply force her to commit self-termination. Most of her nanobots were still unoperative, which would in fact hasten the process, and maybe having her body reconstructed in Rome - or was it the Trade District? That also he couldn't remember... - would put some order in her thoughts and clear her mind. Yet he abruptly waved this thought away, for something else was coming back to his mind, something that prevented him from inducing her in doing it. Words spoken to her ear by a man... a tall, red-haired man whose smile was always so sarcastic... 'Let's head over to the grid terminal missy. Who knows what that EMP did to your insurance...' And he understood. He understood that this sentence, that this man had been real, at some point or at another. The man... he knew him, without however being able to put a name on his face yet - Think, dammit! Think! If I stop now, we're both gonna die...

He didn't dare to take the risk without being certain that all was intact on this side of her life. Which brought him back to the Grid problem again: he needed a network to connect to. They had taken her wristcomm as soon as they had first exited the Grid, crushing it under her very eyes, and the EM disruption had anyways blowed her subvocal module as well as her NCU...

Besides, he knew he'd always be unable to kill the woman he loved so much...

His thoughts snapped again, almost painfully. He had been thinking too much already, and not acting enough. A complete-check up of their situation was what he needed first... before finding a solution very, very quickly. She had collapsed again, fainting on the broken control panels rather than simply falling asleep, and he realized in shock that a few more hours had passed since the last time she had been conscious. It was getting worse. Seventy percents of her nanobots completely destroyed by the EMP shock. Cranial trauma, violent enough to confuse her and prevent her from staying conscious very long. Her body still regularly shaking from the aftereffects of the rough treatment she had been given. Dehydration now, after all these hours spent in the desert - one night? One day? He couldn't tell... his own perception of time was so flawed that she may have been here for days without him even knowing it. Yes, it was definitely getting worse, though not as much as what she'd certainly have had to face if he hadn't managed to make her escape.

Dee... Wake up... Please...

She didn't move, she didn't even let a sigh, less a word or a thought for him. Nothing. It was the first time in many, many years he was facing such a void in her, a void in which he would himself fall. Could he exist if she didn't remember him? Could he... keep strong within her if she had completely forgotten his existence? A nightmare, for the both of them. They had been right... destroying her... making her break... what had been his words? 'She's breaking, bit by bit, piece by piece, oh I love seeing this at work...' Bastards! It wasn't a time for revenge, but he still cursed them all for half a second, before trying to wake her again. If she was already to weak, the both of them would die. There wasn't much water or food in the carrier, nor the most effective stims she...

Stims. The thought disgusted him, and he hoped he wouldn't have to use such things... they had as many chances to kill her than to help her escape. He decided to dismiss the idea for the moment. Only if there was no other choice, and even then, he knew he would still hesitate.

Jen... Jenny... Jen-chan! Onegai, wake up! Please... Jen... please!...

He waited, waited, during long, eternal seconds. Sand was now threatening to fall through the half-destroyed canopy, grains dripping from broken glass; its weight would sooner or later end up in burying the small aircraft, and though he was unable to tell how long it would take... he knew that the only issue left to her was death now.

No!...
I refuse! I won't...

His willpower was still strong enough. As if hit by a sudden shock, she opened her eyes, and he looked at the controls on which she had been lying while desperately trying to keep her sitting in the seat again. God, how it was hard! Her vision could barely focus on anything, and with each heartbeat, the pain in her head was pounding, again and again and again, growing stronger. At the dim light still passing through the hatch, he saw blood on the instrument panel, which her head had certainly violently hit when he had been forced to crash the plane... no, they had been taken in a storm... no, the automatic pilot-system hadn't been able to... Damn, how ithurt to simply think!!...

He looked around, knowing he had to find a solution even more quickly than expected. The only way he had of still contacting someone was to hope in the plane's radio. Not the best thing he had, and it might be intercepted - all of this if by chance it was still working... - yet he had no other choice.

Her hand twitched on the panel as he was forcing her fingers to move, checking what was left of the power source. There was no need to count on the main generator anymore, but he noticed with some relief that the spare one was at least still in power-save mode. Not enought to allow the aircraft to fly again, but certainly enough to... send a message. He wished for a beacon, though even if having one, he wouldn't have left it behind, in case they would still be looking for her. As for her friends...

Checking what was left of the radio, he slightly winced, feeling in terror that he wouldn't be able to hold more of a few minutes. Static. Static, over the whole line, over all the frequencies. The deep desert was an awful place for this, yet maybe... maybe another storm was approaching, too, making the communications even worse. Or maybe the radio was all that simply broken.

More and more desperate, he kept on scanning all the frequencies, his hopes disappearing with each passing minute... running against the time, against the deadly seconds, trying to find...

A signal. Weak, but a signal. She gave a start - he gave a start - upon noticing that it was certainly coming from another aircraft, or any kind of moving transmitter. And he winced again upon seeing whose frequency it was, yet as Tou-san had used to say...

Shikata ga nai! There's no other choice... no other choice...

He did his best to initiate the communication on a private, secured frequency. And hoped.

[____________Jon Grim]

*setting: somewhere in the desert, 30 feet above the sand
subject: Soldier piloting a yalm, sleep deprived, wounded, hungry
Lt. Malcom J. "EternalRebel" Cratty had patroling what looked to the eye to be the same sand and the same big bugs for days days now, both in the air and on foot.
THe bugs realy freaked him out. THe nast little things were crawling all ovir the place.
But then came the unusual com call. THe signal was weak, broken, not way to triangulate its source. THe caller unable to give any diffinative location. THat is, not directly.
Speaking to him...her rather. Maybe. The important thing was intel was recieved. Intel was processed.
THe caller stated they were in a sandstorm and near a crashed plane. Cratty rolled these things over in his mind, or tried to as his heart kept leading his thoughts to the smiling face of a woman he could couldn't stop thinking about. Not even before this whole ordeal went down. Hours, days, weeks spent TRYING not to remember. But it all came back to her when he would lie down in his bed.
And then it hit him! All he had to do was access weather satalite data of the area for any sandstorms that happened at the time of the call. Next he would download the info on all craft that known to have gone down, or lost contact in this desert. THe next step was to merely cross reference tha data to narrow it down to hopefully a few small locations.
But where would he get this intel? No time to thing about that not. His mission was not to gather intell, rather to search. THe soldier commed in his report to SPARTA and landed his craft. Time to start looking on foot. THe wrekage would not be visible from the air, the storm most likly concealing it. His only hope was to start walking.
As he began his patrol, his thoughts went back to her. Yes, he loved her. Lying to himself was pointless. Cratty even allowed himself a few seconds to think of her smile, the smile of a goddess in euphoria.
Time to wake up now, focus the mind on the task at hand. He was useless to Jen dead after all

[Demenzia]

No!...

He had been right in thinking that another sandstorm was to break up soon... but he hadn't foreseen that 'soon' would mean 'in the next minutes'. A loud crack of thunder boomed above the dunes all of a sudden, preventing him to properly hear what the Soldier was saying on the other side of the line. During the time he had spent scanning the different channels, he had never stopped wondering if he was committing a mistake or not; yet he had to admit... he had to admit that he had been quite surprised. The man simply wouldn't stop until he found her. Maybe he could... maybe he could begin to like him a little, now. Maybe. If they went out of this alive...

At least for her.

Her.

Her.

Why did he have to be always so... angry when it came to the both of them. He knew. He knew that he could never be more to her than a ghost from the past, a node of feelings she would clutch at, and it wasn't out of necessity either - she truly loved him. But she needed something else, too. Someone else. Someone who was alive. Someone who could do more for her than simply look at death slowly creeping around, circling around her like one of these hungry Nepal vultures. Someone to protect her when she couldn't do it herself anymore, someone she could rely on, someone whose means would still be stronger than his. He had learnt to phase with the grid all the time, but without the grid, he was nothing. Nothing else than a ghost trying to force her body to move when she was already too far away to hear his desperate screams.

'Try ta make it ta S...!' were the last words he had heard before the radio had died for good this time, and he had all of a sudden felt more down than he ever had in these hours of trouble. What an irony, once again. He had been talking to the man he disliked the most, yet this man was the only one he could trust - he was sure that her other friends were looking for her too, and would have been ready to do the same for her, but the storm... the storm, the distance, the already half-broken radio... Cratty had been the only one he had managed to reach, to talk to, in the hope that the radio's weakening signal would last enough to allow him to triangulate their position. And he realized, to his own surprise, that in a way, he had... sort of enjoyed these few minutes of actually speaking to him, without Jen's feelings clouding his perception of events this time. When had she said... these words to him? 'Ya could be friends... I'm sure ya could... if only... if only he wasn't...'

If only I wasn't such a fool. If only I could accept that she has the right to live, without having to bear with me all the time! If only I could at last manage to die properly, this time.

But the radio was dead now.

He had told him they were in the north, yet he wasn't even sure of this. When she had escaped... when he had managed to take control during these last minutes of haziness, all their eyes upon her, smiling, maughing at the state in which she was sliding, mocking her, delighting over all that she was experiencing... the craft had been waiting outside, as expected - she had programmed it to act this way, after all, always following her from a safe distance, in case an emergency case wouldhappen - but he hadn't been able to do much more than forcing her body in it and turn on the automatic pilot-control once they had been high enough in the sky. It had been the desert then, and one looking like the wide one in the north... the Wasteland plains, very likely, as they hadn't had travelled very long from the Grid exit to where they had detained her. But he wasn't completely certain. When the aircraft had been taken in the sudden storm, her already unable to understand what was happening around her, he had done his best to stabilize it and land in a safe place... but the red sky and burning wind had simply destroyed the stabilizers, sent the plane in an erratic flying loop, and caused the accident that had left her... them... lost.

Sandstorms were so common here, you could never trust the landmarks, ever changing, ever moving with the dunes...

He was so tired... so tired that he couldn't manage his control anymore. She collapsed again, eyes half-open, on the command panel, and he stayed there, unmoving, looking at the invading darkness. Another louc crack, another strike of thunder over the plains. Had they headed west, east or north? Would Cratty ever find them, with the few information he had been able to give him?... Without map... without a term or a wristpad to calculate the coordinates... without any recognizable landmark around... he had done his best. Which, in fact, wasn't a lot.

Hurry up... Soldier... he silently prayed, knowing, though, that the storm would cover all tracks and all sight of the craft, burying it deeper, and maybe even break what was left of it under the assaults of the fiery wind.

Hurry up... please... For her... I can't do it anymore... I can't...

A sparkle of willpower exploded in him again. He couldn't leave her! He had to do something! He had to... to force her to walk, even in the sandstorm... to find a better shelter... The patrollers wouldn't be mad enough to go outside with such a weather raging around. He needed to take one of the stims... at least one that could regenerate part of her nanobots... heal her... whatever... what did she have in store in the plane... all in case of an 'emergency'?... They had taken the only backpack she had been carrying at the time, and her gun, but they didn't know there was a plane... they didn't... She'd die in the desert if she went out... she'd have died even if in perfect physical condition... but if the violent wind ripped off some parts of the aircraft... if the sand achieved to collapse in the inside... burying her... she'd die as well...

Jen... Jen-chan... Hear m...

His thoughts snapped again, plunging him into the darkness of her own mind, and he simply gave up.

He was so tired now...

[Demenzia]

The wind... the wind, blowing strong, deafening sounds all around her... metal squeaking, as if all was crumbling above her head...

Something was wrong, and she knew it... but she was feeling so ill, her head a nexus of sheer pain, her body aching and shivering uncontrollably. It should have reminded her of something, yet she was completely unable to understand why she was feeling like this. 'Not very well' would have been a sweet euphemism - in fact, she would almost have wished she was dead, for in death, at least, there was no pain, or so she thought. Death. Hadn't she already been dead once... a long, long time ago?... Or was it only another of these weird dreams she was keeping on having?...

Not dreams... hallucinations?...

She couldn't even open her eyes, clouded with a reddish veil now. Flashes were drifting across her mind, men, women, feelings, sensations. She was surrounded by people she knew, yet she couldn't remember their names, nor even see their faces. Shadows. They were only shadows, in the mist that was filling her head. Pain. Pain in her whole body, aching, shivering, again and again, and it wouldn't stop. The wind, howling around her, an awful sound making the headache worse - but could it only be worse? So much pain that it was making her nauseous, with the certainty that one single move would be enough to kill her. She didn't dare to move - and at the same time she wished she could. Danger. Loneliness. Sadness. Another long, painful shiver, one that made her cough, not even aware that she was in fact coughing blood now. The stench of blood. Cold, so cold... her whole organism screaming for something more, something she couldn't give it...

'You have surprised me somewhat with you knowledge of human tolerance for different kinds of stimuli... Follow closely, and I'm sure I can teach you quite a few things...' Words echoing in her mind again. A dream. The dream of a tall man, taller than usual for people like him, glowing eyes looking at her from behind the thick veil. He was cold. Cold, and cruel, and toying with her. Cold. She should have feared him, but for some reason... for some reason, her mind was already unable to understand this concept. Fear.

She thought of the storm. A loud, cracking noise, again. Oddly, she tried to spot the sound of raindrops falling on the ground - a storm, it was when there was rain, right?... Yet there was no rain. No water. Dry, so dry now. Thirsty. Wishing for water, fresh water. And something to make the awful pain stop... at last...

"... Miss? Miss, can you hear me?..."

The voice reached her through the veil, and she gave a slight moan, her closed eyelids barely twitching. Someone? For another unknown reason, she thought that she'd die now, that the person would kill her...

"Miss? Hold on! I'm going to see how to get you out of..."

The voice was already fading, unless it was her who was losing consciousness again... She heard another noise, heavy boots treading on metal, a gloved hand softly touching her head, careful not to hurt her, touching her brow burning with fever, wrapping something around her shoulders... another coat, a blanket maybe... The cold backed up a little, but she was still feeling awfully ill.

"... Miss? Blessed be the Goddess, you're still alive! Can you hear me?..."

She wanted to say something - only managed to cough some more blood. The hand touched her on the shoulder, where ... where this man with narrow eyes had hit her, violently, with the needle..... and she gave an almost imperceptible start.

"... Miss? Did I hurt you? Miss?..."

The world faded to darkness again. And the soft voice full of concern faded with it.

[trellame]

Trellame brushes the dust from his boots and strolls back into Tir, credits jingling in his pockets.

[Lauri]

Raquel had learned so much, and tried so hard to find Jenae.. but little came of it. It seemed the harder she tried, the further back she fell with each step.
She sat there in a dark corner of Omni-1, the glow of her wrist-comm softly bathing her face in green. She was so very jumbled inside. She almost felt defeated in a way, as if their plan had succeeded on some morbid level. Raquel could honestly admit to herself that she was wearing thin with concern, worry, and even hate. She hated waiting, she hated not having Jen home safe, and she hated them. Deep down, she hated all of them. Every single one of them, in one way or another, was a spark in a growing fire of rage.
As much as it pained her to give them so much of her soul in hatred, she couldn’t resist the temptation. She did not hate easily, but nothing meant more to her than her family…
She snorted angrily in the dark, imagining how many times she heard the same thing flow from their very lips.

“Our family means everything… we look after our friends.”

So did Raquel. So did SPARTA.

Nothing truly decent was expected of their ilk, she knew better than that… but she couldn’t push the anger away, nor would she ever excuse their role in it. She had been subjected to harsh dealings with them in the past and had waved it aside.
Not this time.

Raquel cared little for herself, really, and excusing such atrocities placed upon her was simple enough. On Jenae, though?
Not this time.

She brooded and seethed, tapping at the keypad on her wrist-comm to update the notes on the entire ordeal. A long moment passed before she had seen the light flicker, that familiar little blue light. Perhaps she feared to answer the comm, feared to wonder who would speak, feared to wonder what news they brought.

After what seemed like hours of debating whether or not to answer, she gave in and pressed the small light.

“Sis?”, the voice said, an accent showing plainly through just one word. It was Malcom.
“Yes, Malc?”, she carefully replied.
“Ah got uh comm call taday while ah wus out patrolin’.”, she managed a small grin as she listened to his thick accent explain what he had found out, and most interesting, who he had talked to.
She never expected that they’d hear from him. It was all still so new to her, the idea of Jen being more than just Jen. Part of her was happy though, to know she was alive somewhere, and that Malcom was comforted by the fact as well. It was so very obvious that his voice was laced with excitement as he spilled out the details of needing to go over data from weather satellites. Her mind tried its best to soak it all in as fast as he presented her with it. Raq mumbled in acknowledgement and furiously tapped away at her keypad.

Exciting news, indeed.

She heard her Boss mention over the eerie silence of the organizational comms for her to head out to the desert. Malcom needed supplies, and she happily replied that she’d assist. After Malcom finished relaying everything to her, she let him know she was on her way to pick him up some supplies. Packing up her things, she rose to her feet and made her way to the nearest shop to gather a few items; med kits, first aid kits, and she even stopped off to grab a Bronto Burger or two. Malc’d probably scarf them down hungrily and happily.


Carefully, she landed. Her yalmaha was practically filthy from all this desert flying, and its luster had begun to fade a bit. Still clad in her Elite, she cautiously approached the entrance to where Malcom had stationed himself. She could see his silhouette against the backdrop of sand and sky, waiting to be greeted. Raquel silently cursed her Elite, making a mental note to order up a set of Desert Issue armours. She was already covered in sweat beneath the Elite, and it had started to wear on her. Hiking in the wilderness wasn’t exactly her forte to begin with, and hot, improperly cooled armour didn’t help.

“Sis!”
She nodded as she slowly came to stand next to him and then gave him a hug, glad as always to see him. They drifted further into his post, slipping inside a building. Raq noticed the med kits strewn about on a table, and some of Malcom’s gear on the other. Faintly outside, the scrambling sounds of Mantis lurking about could be heard. She winced, imagining all the bugs Malcom had seen by now. Oh how she despised bugs at this point, both those scratching outside, and those scratching inside Omni-1: them. Turning to Malcom, she handed him a pack, hoping that somehow she was helping. She had felt so helpless these past few days, that anything such as this would comfort her. He smiled weakly at her with thanks and set the new supplies on one of the tables, tiredly.

Quietly, Raquel examined her “little brother”, whom wasn’t very little to begin with.. but he seemed so much older than the last time she had seen him, a mere day ago. She feared Malcom was perhaps suffering more than any of them. It made her ache inside, even more than she already was, to see him hurt so. He felt somewhat helpless too, she thought, and as much as she’d love to work miracles… Raq also thought that he was feeling awkward and probably still handling the idea of talking to him.

....

They found themselves sitting, just spending some time together as brother and sister, secretly sharing their pain, their sorrow, and their hope.
“She asked muh if ah loved Jen.. if ah loved her.”
Raquel knew what his answer was before he even told her. Of course he loved her, she suspected he had for quite a while now, and that made her heart smile. To know that maybe some good could come of this.. this.. ordeal.

By the soft glow of two table lamps, they talked, and even if for just a moment, they were at peace. They wouldn’t lose hope.

Not this time…

[____________Jon Grim]

The beaten and worn SPARTAn's brisk march had slowly deteriorated to stubling steps just before he fell to his knees in the sand. He had been training hard, long, and who could have predicted the events that Jen, the woman he pretended he didnt long for, would be out her somewhere. Her condition uncertain.

Evaluation: Unacceptable, rectify ASAP.

He was fatiuged before he even started the forced march deep into clanner territory. And the Director (Garret "Bonefish" Silvestrini), Cratty's elder by at least a decade, was in top physical condition. FOR a twenty year old! He even had to slow down his pace several times so as not to loose all the "young studs" panting and huffing behind. The Boss wasnt even breathing hard as he adressed them all on the department frequency. Cratty, carring tha heavy armor and plasmaprojector, was working hard as he could to keep at a flanked position with him.

Nor had he prepared for an extended stay in Sabulum. But it struck him as a good place to set up his base of operations for his patrols. He swore to himself, the SPARTAn's and most importantlly, to Jen, that he would not leave this damnable desert until she was found. THis was his chance to help as best he knew how

Sleep was not a viable option, at least not till he had done everything in his power to delay it while he could. The body would take its rest when it needed it, but till then, he had to stay on the only leads he had.
To stop would be to allow the trail to get colder. He was a security operative and Jen was missing.

*But then, yew know yew wont hur don..."

Cratty shook his head before he could dwell on the Idea anymore. Emotions threw off your focus, made you sloppy. Primary Objective: Locate Agent Markarian, ASAP! Military bearing cold be stowed later, and then the L-T could handle the emotional issues associated with being human. But still...

He scanned his perimeter as well as he could with eyes that wouldnt open all the way. After it looked clear he lay on his front, assuming the Prone Postion to conceal him somewhat as he worked.

Supplies were precously scarce for the moment. He was instructed that should he need anything, he was to call SPARTA immeadiately. Any equipment or supplies needed could be rushed to him immeadiately. But realisticly, we wouldn't chance having another SPARTAn forced to shelter at Sabulum, when seaching elsewhere was also needed. Cratty decided he would have to hold out till after the storm

The weary warrior pulled out an almost empty bag with a red cross on it. Out came his last medkit. It had been rationed out, Cratty only partially healing his wounds. One of the wounds he thought he closed sufficently had reopened. A lucky pincer strike from one of those damned bugs caught him just right under his tank armor, shooting deep into his upper chest. Blood started to seep. The wound could not be ignored any longer once it started flowing enough to leave a trail.

A discouragely dim flash came from the medkit as it was activated. An odd looking device attatched to it had allowed him to use only partial energy at a time. Cratty removed it before tossing the spent tube away. Back into the bag he reached. This time pulling out a different colored tube, he shakingly attatched the governing device. Another tube taken out and attatched with the other to the device. The soldier put it aside a moment
Reluctantly he looked under the armor. The heal was not complete by far, a little blood still tricklng down lightly. At least he wouldnt bleed to death, or even worse, lead a sworm of those things right to him.
Shaking his head and cursing the overgrown insects, Cratty went to back to the other 2 stims, and considered his chances on his latest patchwork heal, he cursed again, knowing he had no other choise. He then calculated a few numbers with some difficulty in his tired mind. The brain definately needed a rest. THe governing device's settings were switched. Its purpose was now not to control, but to supercharge the nanotubes attached to it. Cratty hoped his math was correct as he set it to its maximium charge. He activated device into his neck.....
A yell errupted from him as his heartbeat raced and his adrenaline level instantaneously skyrocketed
Cratty breathed in slow, trying to level off the massive rush that filled him. Wouldn't last though. He was been using the Omni issue stims to keep him going for too long without allowing his body to recouperate. He knew the point would come where even if he had them, he would simply collapse from fatiuge. On the bright side, he would get sleep, want it or not.

He suddently checked under his armor, oncemore. Luckily, he hadnt started bleeding any worse than he was before.

And, in reflection he had been lucky the nasty little critter hadnt puncuterd a lung. He mused he would have to ask Raqui to thank Buffy for him.

"Cratty, git yerself tagethir, Soljer!" he yelled at himself.

THe stims worked better for the body then for the mind. It needed rest too, but it didnt like stim for a substitute. He forced his thoughts to focus. Were he to let his mind wonder, he wouldn't last too long this close to a known Hive.

"Prahmary missiun ubjective, Cratty?" he demanded
"Locate Agent Jenae "Demenzia' Markarian, suhcure hur evac ta SPARTA HQ. Amendid: CODE ZEALOT" he answered himself
"secundary missiun ubjective?"
" None"
"Availuble Pursonnel? "
"Malcom Cratty. SPARTA reinforcments standin by!"
"Acceptable casualties?!?"
"ZERO!"
He stood, feeling renewed determination by stating the mission to himself.
"MOVE OUT, SOLJER!"
"SPARTA , SUR!"

"Ah aint down yet, Jen. Yer gonna be home ihn two shakes ur uh leet's tail" he said to the lonely Desert.

THe storm was picking up. He preformed a signal check. It was as he had feared. The incomming storm would eliminate communication with the SPARTA main body. He commed this in, letting Raquel "Sezmra " Svangara know not to worry. The opifex Agent had become like a sibling to him, and she felt the same about Malcom. Poor Sis...

She now wore shades to cover the dark purple-black rings under her eyes. She hadnt any sleep for some time either. Yet she was coping, seemingly by willing it to be so. Cratty saw some strength in Raquel that was so strong, ....yet so unidentifiable. Was it the calmness, the self control she always seemed to have tons of? Perhaps. But whatever it was, it made her a rock upon which Cratty knew would silently defy any storm that dare come her way.

Just being around her, somehow reassured him, made him feel like he was home for some reason. She was an amazing woman, one that would do anything for the ones she loved. And the missing fixer most definitely went into that catagory, probably underlined, circled and arrowed to, signifying the importance of such a special entry as Jenae.

He promised his adopted Big Sister he would seek shelter in the Outpost till the storm passed. He lied. No reason to worry her, she had her own search for Jen to attend to. And even 5 feet of visabilaty in a a harsh sandstorm that could possibly lead to finding her was better than the clearaty of the Outpost walls. But then was there anything not worth sacrafing for her? To have another chance, even if it wasn't likely, was there any thing he wouldn't do without a second though? No. There wasn't. He would search on till his body would not function any longer, till he was so sand beaten, stim dosed and exausted that he fell motionless into the sand, if its what was required. Then come right back again, ready for more abuse. Jenae was that special to him.......

Cratty looked up and took note that the storm had finally got there. He turned to face it and walked indifferently strait towards it...

[Demenzia]

She was dreaming again, lost in a black and white landscape full of shadows all walking in circles around her, muttering, whispering words she couldn't understand. Fear was creeping in her again, for she knew that she was surrounded, that they were talking about her, about what they would do with her, about her... Mocking, chuckling, repeating she'd never be the same again... One of the silhouettes raised a hand, holding an apparatus that looked vaguely familiar... and the shock drowned her in pain for half a second, as she felt her whole nano-system being shattered all of a sudden, the agony leaving her sense dulled for a short moment. Then the voices, progressively being heard again. She looked around her in panic, something broken, deep inside of her, a link she had, a lik that was crumbling now. She was falling again, without knowing to which extent she had been hit, and...

"...Rickert? What about the storm?"

"Ending in approximatively two hours. The sandworms will soon come back, Master."

The soft voice... the soft, warm voice she vaguely remembered having heard, and another voice, younger, filled with a sort of excitement, of... anticipation. Her head was still pounding, though less painfully than before, her body feeling like floating, and she needed almost a minute to realize that she was lying on a seat, in a vehicle maybe. The air smelled of metal and dust, of oil, also... the whole atmosphere having something oddly familiar, once again. The more she tried to catch her memories, the further they would drift, leaving her empty and exhausted. Two men, one older than the other, for sure. Two men. An old instinct told her that if they had meant to harm her, it would certainly have been already done... yet given how awful she was feling, she couldn't even be certain of this statement...

She slowly opened her eyes, trying to adjust her blurred vision to what was surrounding her, trying to sort all the information, one by one. She was in a vehicle, shivering and sweaty with fever under the blankets she had been wrapped in, clad only in a shirt twice too big for her. Slightly stirring, she raised a hand to her head, noticing that her wound had been bandaged, though she wasn't feeling able to get up yet. It was odd... very odd. She was lying here, listening to their conversation, not understanding what they were talking about, nor where they exactly were...

Closing her eyes again, the dim lights of the vehicle still being too much of a pain to bear for more than a few seconds, she tried to remember, again. And with the lack of memories came back the fear; finding herself staring at an unknown ceiling was a thing, but... not knowing her name... not knowing why she had been in the desert... not knowing the reason to all of this... A childish hope made her think, for a second, that if she closed her eyes long enough, if she made no sound, if she didn't move, maybe they'd just forget her, maybe she'd be safe...

"Gyroscope O.K., Master, but the stabilizers are still weak. Better stay here for the moment, no?"

"Hrmph. The worms will come back as soon as the storm's over... The cave is safe, but if we're surrounded..."

A short, heavy silence, followed by the sound of fingers deftly hitting the keys of a terminal panel. Curiosity was stronger; she couldn't prevent herself from listening more attentively, and even trying to discern, through her half-closed eyelids, what they were up to.

"...Weather analyzer indicates the formation of another Coriolis stream, in about fourteen hours. Sandstorm, this time. If we're surrounded, it won't be for long", the young man named Rickert finally answered. "And I can't repair the Mole if we dive again. Two hours ain't enough..."

"Hmm. I hope it's not another ion storm then. I don't want to stay here three more days. And the girl needs better rest than this!..."

The girl?... She slightly frowned, wondering if he was talking about her. The girl. An ion storm. Three days. Had she slept... dreamt... for so long... she couldn't remember at all. She was feeling so weak again, so weak, and so lost that it made burning tears come to her closed eyes, tears she couldn't restrain. Why, why was she here... unable to simply know... hearing them talk about worms, and storms, and buried caves... She wanted to sleep, forever, to leave these anguished questions behind her, not having to worry again...

Why?...

Maybe she had fainted, or fallen asleep again, for the dreams came back, forcing her to fight them again, and making her open her eyes all of a sudden again, a whimper in her throat, staring at the darkness around her. All was quiet in the vehicle now, its occupants certainly asleep as well. They still frightened her, but far less than solitude - God, she hated solitude, she hated being alone, without anybody to talk to, without...

"...Blessed be the Goddess! How are you feeling?"

She gave a start, jerking her head toward the silhouette sitting next to hear - and the whimper turned into a moan of pain, as this movement awoke the headache once again, sending shards of suffering even down to her neck.

"Don't move like this!..." he whispered, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stay lying down on the seat. "I thought you'd never wake up... it's been three days now, and your wound looked... so bad..."

"Who... who're ya?... Where... 'm I?..." she croaked, her own voice sounding odd to her ears, trying to discern his face above hers, and realizing that she was thirsty, her throat so dry that it was aching too now.

He didn't answer immediately, yet she guessed a kind smile on his lips as he was reaching for a flask in an inner pocket of his jacket, helping her to drink a few sips. Fresh water, making her feel a little better, helping her in clearing her thoughts a little.

"You can call me Elm", he said all of a sudden. "The sleeping boy there is my apprentice, Rickert. As for where we are... let me introduce you to the Mole. Though we're currently stuck in this cave... we went surfacing right when an ion blast hit our trajectory, and... Oh, I'm sorry, Miss... Miss?"

She herself didn't understand why she was all of a sudden shivering so hard, his words awaking in her all these feelings she ahd tried to back up. So much fear in her... so much despair... for she couldn't even give him an answer to such a simple question...

"...I dunno..." she said; her words turned to a loud sob, and she finally gave up to the tears.

"I dunno... who I am!..." she cried again, her voice no more than a whisper, as she slowly put her face in her hands, her frail shoulders shaking, sobbing without being able to stop.

Elm stayed silent, patting her on the shoulder in a comforting gesture. Words were of no use in such a situation, and he knew it. And thus, he simply let her cry against his chest.

[Demenzia]

The sense of awareness came back slowly, gradually, along with the feeling of weakness he was beginning to dread so much. Abnormal state of de-phasing, comparable to and at the same time quite different from the one with the Grid. Non-conformity to the usual pattern of existence that had become his over the last fifteen years. Dissimilarity of mental shapes, drifting, drifting, drifting... and leaving him behind. The theory popped in his mind all of a sudden, frightening in all its truth, yet he waved it away, not daring to allow himself to wander too far on this path. Mental schemes not obeying the common perception of time and space. Ability to think faster, to think twice if needed, yet also to twist psychic, emotional and memory processes in a reverted time-loop - making him lose himself in thoughts for what seemed to him like minutes, but were in reality hours. And he couldn't afford to lose these precious hours. Not now. Not when hit by this weird and disturbing certainty that he was like...

Fading away...

He fought against the weakness one more time, fought to gain access back to her consciousness. The men who had rescued her - Elm, and the young one... Rickert?... - he wasn't sure if they could be trusted. He had no means of knowing to whom they were affiliated yet, her ID-scan having been disabled by the EMP shock too, but he would have bet they were Clanners. And how much time, until they discovered who she was, who she was working for, or simply made assumptions based on the crashed Yalmaha they had found her in? She wasn't really safe in there. That was, until she herself remembered who she was, and decided to act according to...

And if she didn't remember?

Yamero! Kano wa... kano wa boku ga wasureru o dekimasen! She can't forget me! She can't...

And if she can?...

He felt so miserable in that instant. Yes... what if she could? His mental voice couldn't reach her anymore... maybe in dreams, but not when she was awake... and he didn't know, really, to which extent his own... existence was linked to hers in that regard. He would die with her - that was a certainty. Yet could he go on existing if she stopped being aware of him? Could he sustain his own conscience without another mind to let him touch reality from time to time? Could he... simply bear with the raw, terrible risk of staying imprisoned like this, still within her mind, but definitively unable to communicate with the world outside, looking at it from this invisible jail? And most of all...

He had hated life for such long years. Hated himself. Hated all that could remind him of the woman he had lost. If he now was to lose her again, worse, to lose her in such circumstances... he was quite sure that this time, he wouldn't be able to stand it. And thinking back that he had disliked the Soldier so much, so much, for having been the only one in all these years to actually steal her from him... the only man she had truly felt attracted to, not only for a night or a few weeks, but in a similar pattern of thoughts, of personality, of... Yes, he had to admit it. He had to admit his own jealousy. His feelings. His distrust. His hate. He had to realize that she also needed something else, something more, something he couldn't give. That maybe one day, she'd decide to walk a new path, if there was no way to bring him back. But not this way. Not this way. Not by forgetting me! Oh, please, Jen... Not like this! Not like this...

"...I still wanna know, Master. Why she was in the desert. Can't see who in the area would build jets like this one, and..."

Ah, but here they were, the both of them, talking again, thinking that she was asleep, and that she couldn't hear them. Let's concentrate on this, rather than on the slow process of disappearance. Let's try to find a derivative to the thoughts.

"It's not as simple, Rick", Elm answered, his calm voice full of concern. Somehow... somehow, he was reminding him of Cyrus - yet Cyrus had been quite an angry man, in the end, and this 'Elm' wasn't. Older, wiser, calmer, maybe. Different. In another time, another place, he may even have liked him.

"But... but look't this! This gun uses a gamma ray generator! How many people wander with this in their backpacks, Master? I've heard you can only get 'em from the Omni mines in the south-west... think I can have a lil' look... just one?"

"Enough, boy. Enough. Let this gun where it is. Do I need to remind you it is hers? I know this kind of weapon. Unless you can break the identification system, it's DNA locked, kid. You wouldn't be able to use it."

"Sure I could!" Rickert's voice again, more heated this time, with a boyish enthusiasm betraying his age - he was certainly no more than himself when he had left his family to become... to begin his life not as an Arisugawa anymore, but simply as 'Heiji'. "Lemme one or two days, and I should find the sequence used to..."

Elm sighing, a long, slightly irritated sigh, that made Rickert's word die in his throat as he was pronouncing them. The 'apprentice' fell silent, a little ashamed too, sitting in the front part of the vehicle. How had they called it? The Mole, or something similar? Diving underground when the worms weren't moving... a sort of small, light sandcruiser. That could explain a certain number of things, and also, why her friends hadn't found her yet. Without a comm signal to guide them - and yet, even such a signal would have been blurred if low under the earth - there was no way to locate a human being in such storms.

He remembered his conversation with the Soldier. He had tried, really tried to hold on the radio, to carry the conversation, any conversation, in order to give him enough time to triangulate her position. He still disliked him, and the very idea of her being in love with another man, but in this ordeal, he trusted him to do his best to find her. Himself had failed... miserably failed... and now... if they had been hiding in a cave, under the earth, chances were even slighter that anybody could trace her. Find the wreckage place, certainly, if the sand hadn't already covered it all. Apart of this...

"...We're going to stay here one more day. See if she's strong enough to withstand travelling, and if the storm is a Coriolis or an ion one", Elm said again, worry piercing through his measured tone, this time. "I don't like the state she's in. We don't have proper equipment here to heal her, and her NCU still rejects seventy percent of the nanobots I've injectd her. Looks like an Emitter's work, but as long as I don't know since how much time her system was down... We need to bring her to a Doc. A good one."

"Can't you repair it yourself, Master?" Rickert shrugged. "It's already better than the five percents she could hold three days ago, anyways. Improving."

"Improving, but too slowly to my liking. I'm an Engineer, boy. I can help with the nanobots, but not as she'd need. Her wound is quite bad, and I fear brain damage was higher than I expected... at least, given the partial amnesy she's suffering at the moment. She could be an Omni spy, for all that we know. And you know what it means..."

He stopped listening for a while. Afraid... panicked too, now. They were no doubt Clanners. If they managed to check her ID, in a way or another... the only safe part in this was the high level of security placed on SPARTA employees' public data, making it harder for a non-Omni to access the needed database, but this wouldn't hold very long.

He had to get her out of here.

By all means. At all costs. Before it was too late. He had to get her out. He had to -

[Demenzia]

The boy was staring at her, fixly, prying hazel eyes under slightly frowned eyebrows. She was thinking of him as 'the boy' - he surely looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, with his bushy sandy blonde hair and way of behaving, always jumping from one end of the vehicle to the other, checking one thing or another, fixing little details here and there, toying with the various instruments... But his manners were those of someone who knew what he was doing, also, and he looked quite talented at... fixing things.

She had been awake for two or three hours now, finally able to sit and eat a little, though Elm had apologized for having no better food than dried rations meant for lasting during their weeks of travelling in the desert. Her head was still aching, and she was feeling at the least dizzy most of the time, having to lie back for a few minutes in waiting for the vertigo to pass, but all in all, she was feeling better now, even if tired and weak. And Elm was kind and comforting, trying hard to figure out what exactly was wrong with her. For something was wrong, she knew it... she felt it. Something that had to do with the people and the weird apparatus in her dreams, with her unability to make use of nano-technology within her own body, though she didn't even remember what kind of programs she was actually able to compute, nor even what she used to do for a living.

But Rickert was still staring at her, and she was beginning to feel at unease. Elm being out in the cave, busy with mendings on 'the Mole', the both of them were alone in the vehicle now. She had been trying to remember, really; the more she tried, however, the worse the headaches were to become, and thus she was simply staying there, half-sitting, half-lying on the seat, feeling oddly light at moments, almost nauseated at others.

"You're an Omni?" the young Engineer suddenly asked, chewing on an unruly lash of blonde hair, still staring at her straight in the eyes - not only looking at her, but merely making sure she wouldn't... try to escape, maybe?

She stayed silent for a long moment, his words hitting her as surely as a bullet shot right through her heart - silent, for she simply couldn't talk, not when she felt like crying again, not when there wasn't any answer to give. She didn't know; however hard she trid, she couldn't answer. Elm had told her that she shouldn't think about this for the moment... that she only had to take rest, sleep, and recover enough for them to bring her to someone who could really help her... but all in all, it was also hard not to try.

"... I dunno", she finally said, blinking several times to prevent the tears from rolling on her cheeks again. "... Maybe. I... I can't remember... Why?..."

He didn't answer, all of a sudden pulled a gun from the holster hanging at his waist, so quickly that one would never have thought this from an Engineer. He pulled a gun, a light, energy-powered blaster, and pointed it right at her forehead, as if ready to shoot, his gaze still hard on her. With a gasp, she cowered in the seat, under the blankets, in a vain attempt to escape him, even if it was of no use.

"Must be an Omni, eh?" Rickert said again, and his hand wasn't shaking as he was aiming at her. "Ya have odd gunds, for a girl. Gamma Ejectors - yeah, odd guns. An odd plane, too. Odd things in your packs. Clans smuggle lots o' things from Omni-Med, but ya just seem... too oddly equipped. You're Omni, right?"

"I... I dunno..." she whispered in a little voice, her lips now trembling. "...It's true!... I... I..."

"Oh, well", the apprentice shrugged, and as unexpectedlyas he had drawn it, he put the gun back in its holster. "Master Elm would be mad at me if I killed you. Anyways, I don't care. Leave this crap to them Clanners. Hey... hey, no, don't... I'm sorry. Don't cry! I'm sorry, I tell you!..."

This time, she hadn't been able to keep her tears, silently sobbing, her face buried in the blankets. It was too hard, too hard to be this way, without memories, too hard to face such accusations, too hard to stay calm and steady when he had just been threatening her not a few seconds ago...

"I didn't mean to... Forget what I said. Stop crying..." he said again, his expression a mix of distress and sorrow now. She jerked a little when he put a shy hand on hers, a silent apology to his rude behavior - an apology from a boy who surely hadn't had much to do with women yet, too absorbed in his work and thirst of learning more and more from his 'Master'. Engineers. Odd people, lost in their own ways...

"...And if I am?..." she managed to whisper between two sobs. "If I'm really... if I'm... they're gonna kill me... they... they always..."

"Nobody's gonna touch ya if Master Elm says so", Rickert said, still holding her hand, with an hesitant, awkward smile. "Don't worry. And we're well hidden here under the sand... and we have a good bodyguard as well if needed!"

She tried to smile back through her tears. Engineers... she was on the point of remembering something about Engineers... and all of a sudden, the thought flew away, as many of her other thoughts since she had come back to consciousness.

"...en?..."

She gave a start... having the feeling that someone was talking to her, someone that wasn't Rickert... someone... But they were alone in the vehicle, right? Nobody else could be talking to her, right? There was no way she could be hearing voices... hearing voices was when you were mad... unless she was... No. Thinking of this made her feel even more dizzy, and she shut her eyes, slightly panting, her brow sweaty from the effort of simply staying sitting, nauseated to the verge of vomiting now. It was too hard, too hard...

"...You need sleep, I think..." Rickert muttered on an apologizing tone again. "I'm sorry... I didn't see you weren't feeling well... "

"... Tell me, please... tell me... who am I?..." she whispered in return, her head spinning, as he was helping her to lie back. "Tell me..."

"I will. When I know, I will!" the young man answered.

His smile was the last thing she saw before falling asleep again.

[Demenzia]

... to get her out of here!...

He gave a start, or what would have been a start, given his current state of dead mind trapped in a living body. He had... snapped again, and was now frightened by this feeling that was meaning so much to him, letting him foresee his own fate, his own disappearance, his own weakness. For a few seconds, he wondered what he was doing in here... where he was... why all was so dark around him... the memories drifting away from him, slipping between his phantom fingers yet again, leaving him confused and wishing for sleep again. Then he realized. He realized in sheer horror that he was losing himself as well now... that his own memories were beginning to fade... that he was slowly, slowly but inexorably, becoming to be erased as well.

Boku wa Heij!i... Boku wa Arisugawa Heiji... Boku wa Heiji. Heiji! HEIJIi!... he screamed for himself, shivering in his terrible loneliness, an anguished prayer he only was able to hear. His theory had been true. He was disappearing, or maybe simply sinking back into the first stage of his dead state, the one Deannah herself had had to get him out, the one when he had promised little Jen to stay with her. Except that if her loss of memory was to persist... they'd be no one to bring him back this time.

Jen! Jen, onegai! Don't leave me.. Jen! Remember me... Kimi wa... boku no omoide... onegaaaaaaaai!...

But he was screaming in vain, as she wasn't able to hear him anymore, and in his darkness, he seized his head between his hands, and began to cry. Silent tears. Tears he was the only one to feel. He didn't want to go through all of this again. He didn't want to disappear, to be left alone, to be... abandoned like this. The only idea simply terrified him.

A whole other day had passed, it seemed, a day or even more; the storm the two Engineers had talked about was certainly on them now, for they still were in the cave that had been her shelter - quiet, silent, half-asleep in the darkness. Keeping a lamp lit would either use too much energy from the Mole's batteries, or attract undesirable creatures... unless it would be both? He didn't know, and in fact, he didn't even give a damn. He had to get her out of here, before they figured out who she was, or could simply bring her back to civilization... Clanner civilization, if the word could be used in such a place as the desert...

Move, girl. Move out. Let me... show you the way. Please... I want to help, Jen! I want to!...

... I cant really do more, anyways...

Maybe fear was making him perceive things a little differently... maybe he was simply imagining this... but illusion or not, he found it slightly more difficult to take over her mind this time, though she was deeply asleep. Harder?... It was like... like trying to move against the wind... or swimming against the stream... far from being impossible to do, yet not a very pleasant task. Task. That was the word. A task. The task of keeping her safe and sound, alive, far from all that could threaten her. Her friends... her friends would help her. They would bring her to Omni-Med. They would do their best to help her find her memories back. Find him[i] back. He had to hope, for there wasn't anything else left to him for the moment.

Moving against the stream... ignoring the headaches, the dizziness, forcing her to get up and crawl in the dark, discretly, silently, to the fore part of the vehicle... making her fingers reach for the control panels, searching for a comm, for a radio, for whatever... Her backpacks was there too - the one with the medkits, the other containing clothes, and with some luck, they may even had put her armor pieces back in it... He needed to contact her friends. He knew there was little chance for them to receive the signal if emitting from under the ground, but he had to try. When they would surface again, the two men would be awake, or at least one of them, and then it would be too late. If she wasn't to remember him... if he was becoming weaker... it would anyways be too late.

He had never really believed in the [i]kami or in any other kind of God, but he oddly thought that this time, this time only... he'd have been glad to be able to spare a little prayer to someone, whomever, whatever this 'someone' could be.

Jen... please...

His fingers... her fingers... brushed over the control panels, over what looked like a transmitter. And he froze all of a sudden, hand hlfl-raised, feeling the cold steel of a gun suddenly pressed against his... her head.

"I'm really sorry, Miss. But I guess you will have to explain, now, what you're trying to do", said Elm's voice behind her, emerging from the darkness, his kind eyes for once looking quite coldly at her...

[____________Jon Grim]

Day 11, The Desert.
It was a brighter morning, Malcom Cratty awaking with a smile on his face. He had dreamt of Jen. Of her returning home. Her smile, so warm. So happy. All the SPARTAns were there. THe family was complete. He dreamt also he had the courage to tell Jen, to let her know......
It was a good dream, and it filled his spirit with happieness, strengthend his vigilance. Just time, thats all that stood in the way of his dream being reality. Jen would come home, he would not accept any other thought into his mind.
Cratty sat in the makeshift base he was now using in Sabulum. The accursed mantis had "moved in" to the one he was using before, just as he was preparing for his sleep rotation. Luckily, thanks to the technological miracle of Total Mirror Shield, he made it out relaivtly unhurt. Unfortunately, however, the bugs did mamge to keep the LR scanning equipment he had been using to trace any transmissions that might lead him to Jen.
The soldier thought back on his time out there. The first week was rough. He had used stims to drive his body on past the point of exhaustion. While that might have seemed desperate, it was logical. Jen's best chances were immeadiately following her disappearence.
He knew now, it would take extended tracking to find her. Jen was alive. he wouldnt allow anything to even cast a shadow of doubt in his mind. And hence, he reasoned, must have found safety somewhere. But was she taken as a prisoner of war? THis seemed to be a likely possibility, given all the "activity" in the area. If this were the case, he had been determined to find out who and where. Every single SPARTAn would be more than willing to assist in any rescue effort once he had the intel collected. Hell would rain down on the guilty in a storm such as this desert had never seen before.
Scratching the scruffy growth that had now declaired itself a ful beard, Cratty looked on at the instrament pannel in front of him. It was essentially just a comm deck he had pulled from his old beat up kodiak along with its trasmitter/reciever unit. He was sharper, stronger, more focused since he had began his sleep rotations, as was the Standard Operating Proceedures he had learned from....well, elsewhere.
Grabbing some coffee form a thermos Raqui had dropped off to him, he began the morning planning the section of sand he would search over today. There. The area right next to the Cyborb installation. It would be his fifth, sixth trip to that area? He couldnt remeber. THe desert was starting to feel oddly like home to him.
He decided to allow him self a moment to reflect. Pressing a button on the comm deck, a picture of Jen popped up. COuld he help himself but think she was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen.
Slipping on the last of his armor and grabbing his plasmaprojector, the soldier headed out into the desert.

[Demenzia]

Backing a curse under his breath - her breath - he stayed unmoving for long seconds that seemed ages, his mind oscillating above the void, between the choices that were now offered to him. He could play the game, and act as her for a moment if there was need, but telling the truth about his intentions would shatter the idea Elm had of her, and maybe make her appear as a threat. On the other hand... keeping his secrets, saying nothing, would also mark her as a danger for them. It had been a mistake. He knew it, he still had done it, in spite of all, and now, he had to... He was weakening again, he had to find a solution, quickly. Shikata ga nai....

He suddenly lost his grip, unable to sustain his conscience, and only she was left.

Half-collapsing against the control panels, her weak body not supporting her anymore, she blinked in fear and confusion, realizing that she wasn't lying on the seat, that she was threatened, not even trying to resist. She didn't remember having got up, nor walked to where she now was, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a gun against her temple. First, not knowing who she was... and now this...

"... Wha...?" she managed to whisper, not in an attempt to stay discrete, but simply because she was too afraid to talk more.

"I asked you, what are you trying to do?" Elm repeated, slowly, carefuly detaching each syllable, as if talking to a child. She only looked at him, at his old face tanned by the desert sun, a ghost appeared out the shadows, revealed by the dim lights of the control diodes. She only looked at him, her big, brown eyes a mirror of her own confusion, ignorant, almost innocent, while she was desperately trying to remember what she was doing here. In vain, once again... once again.

"Listen, Miss", the Engineer went on, as she didn't seem to be willing to talk, and she caught, for a second, a pleading expression on his features. "You were already badly injured. Don't force me to hurt you more. Please. You know I don't want to."

"... I dunno..." she finally muttered, this being the first words that came to her mind in that moment. She had pronounced them many, many times, in fact, since they had found her; despite all her efforts, they often were, also, the only answer she was able to give to their questions. "What... 'm I doin' here? I... dreamt?"

Elm slightly frowned, and slowly, so slowly, lowered his weapon a little, until she felt she could turn to him without risking to meet the cold, dark eye of the gun. For a minute at least, he seemed to be studying her, her timid attitude, her pale features. The bad physical condition in which he had found her, added to the loss of memory, saved her this time; without this, he surely wouldn't have believed her.

"You don't know? You really don't know?" This time, his voice wasn't threatening anymore, but rather concerned again, concerned and more worried than ever.

She slowly nodded, a hard lump in her throat. Each time she woke, she always ended up crying... for each time, her situation seemed more and more desperate to her. She felt like a prisoner, but not knowing why. She felt like she had to get out, even if they had helped her, but not understanding why. She felt like talking to some people, but not knowing to whom. She felt like she was hearing voices, but when she listened more closely, she was always alone. So much uncertainty... so many nightmares... and now, acting alone!...

"... Poor child...", Elm finally said, shaking his head in pity, putting gentle hands on her shoulders to help her get up and go back to her seat. "Come. Come, you need some more sleep. As soon as we can, we'll bring you to a Doctor. To someone who can... help you better than me."

"... Friends?..." she croaked, shyly looking at him as she was staggering to the end of the vehicle.

"Yes... friends of mine", the Engineer nodded with what was intended as an encouraging and comforting smile. "They'll heal you. Trust me, they'll do."

She stopped for a second, not even aware of the terribly sad look on her face now.

"Ya think... I have friends too?..." she whispered, looking at him as he was the last person on Rubi-Ka to be able to help her, the last person whom she could trust, the last person whom she could find an anchor in.

"I don't doubt it, Miss. Lots of friends. You surely have lots of friends, and they're waiting for you to come back."

She knew that he was only saying these words to comfort her, that he had no more clue than her about 'friends'... that maybe she was all on her own, all alone; but still, she managed a little smile, pretending that she was believing him.