Andy's Fan-Fiction Archive

ESCAPING THE PYRE
By
Jayel (Jessica)

Timeline: On way to New Pacifica
Author's E-Mail: mlifsey@sunbelt.net

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Writer's Note: This story is a continuation of/sequel to "Kamikaze" and probably won't make a lot of sense to anyone who hasn't read that magnum opus. Sorry . . . . As always, comments good or bad or both are more than welcome.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 1
by Jayel

During the long months the Eden Advance Team had spent trapped in the mountains, Yale had longed for the sight of flat land, an open plain their vehicles could traverse without groaning, a world laid out before them like a map where progress made toward New Pacifica could be measured in straightforward kilometers.
But after three months of rolling steadily across this longed-for plain, he was no longer certain they were moving at all, and the sight of a mountain rising in the distance would have seemed like the foothills of heaven. Every day dawned on the same vista, the sun rising behind them to cast a mellow, golden light across an endless sea of grass. We know there's an end to this plain in the east, he mused, watching this miracle once more with a still-appreciative eye. Surely we'll find an end in the west eventually.
The sounds of the rest of the Eden Project waking and coming to life behind him brought a smile to his face in spite of the disheartening sameness of the view ahead. Progress across the continent may have been slow, but as a community of souls, Eden Advance was moving forward in leaps and bounds.
Dr. Julia Heller lay absolutely still on her back for as long as she could stand it, hoping to make her stomach stop doing flip-flops by sheer force of will. But mind over matter only works when all minds are in agreement, and Valentine Solace was of a mind to make his/her mother sick. She sprang up from the cot and lunged for the indignity of a handy bucket, dumping Alonzo out of bed in the process.
"Sorry," she muttered when what seemed like everything she had eaten the day before had completed its unscheduled journey back up her esophagus.
"It's okay," Alonzo said soothingly, picking himself up and trying to regain his bearings. "Can I get you anything?"
"No," she groaned, pushing the bucket away and leaning her face against a convenient table leg. "Go away . . . "
"Okay, okay, I'm going," he promised, trying not to smile. He hated for her to be so miserable, but he couldn't help thinking she was cute, even in her current shade of green. "Can I at least get rid of--"
"Take it!" she ordered, rolling onto her back and dragging the blanket from the cot over her head.
Alonzo picked up the offending bucket and took it outside, careful not to take too deep a whiff of the contents. "Wasting food again, I see," Wolman joked, coming by as he washed it out. "Hang in there, man. She's got to get better sometime."
"I hope so," Alonzo said with a grin. "She's starting to figure out this is all my fault."
Wolman laughed. "You think she's mad now," he said. "Wait'll she goes into labor."
Morgan Martin was still asleep. Sound asleep. Dead to the world. "Morgan honey," Bess cooed, tracing the outline of his lower lip with one finger. "It's morning."
"Yes," he agreed, rolling over and rooting deeper into the pillow.
"Everyone's going to be up soon," Bess complained, snuggling closer against his back and sliding her arms around his waist.
"That's true," he admitted, halfway back to a dream about cheese blintzes with strawberry sauce. He could almost taste . . .
"Morgan!" Bess insisted, sliding a hand down his stomach. "Wake up."
His eyes popped open like shutters. "Bess, cut it out," he ordered in a not-terribly-convincing tone.
"Why?" she teased, climbing on top of him.
"Aren't you worried about the baby?" he protested weakly, parts of him responding in spite of hunger and sleep deprivation.
"Julia told me we can't possibly hurt the baby by having sex," she said, punctuating with a series of tender kisses all over his worried face.
"Really?" he managed to squeak.
"Really," she asserted, capturing his mouth with hers. She broke the kiss with a soft smack of saliva. "She also said it was perfectly natural for my sex drive to be running a little high now that I've entered my second trimester."
"Oh," Morgan said, his heart sinking as everything else seemed to rise. "That's great, sweetheart . . . Did she happen to mention what's going to happen to me?"
Devon Adair had made a remarkable recovery in the three months since she'd emerged from cold sleep for the second time on this odyssey to New Pacifica. But she wasn't well enough to control two rowdy youngsters who seemed determined to do each other a mortal injury before breakfast. "Ulysses Adair, stop chasing True and put your boots on," she ordered, catching her son in the third turn of his fourth lap around the tent. "And True, stop teasing Uly."
"Sorry, Mom," Uly said, settling on the cot to wrestle with his bootlaces.
"Sorry, Devon," True echoed, though Devon noticed she couldn't resist sticking her tongue out at Uly just once more before retrieving her hair brush and bringing it to Devon to have her braid redone for the day.
"It's all right, but we need to hurry and get moving," Devon said, brushing the little girl's long blond locks. "Yale saw some yellow leaves yesterday, and we've all noticed how chilly it's been the past few nights."
"Is it going to start snowing again?" Uly asked.
"Not any time soon," Devon answered, fervently hoping she was right. "But we need to reach some sort of shelter before it does."
"Dad said yesterday that he hoped some of those eco-terrorist convicts made it this far west and built some more of those domes," True offered helpfully. "Otherwise we're gonna freeze."
"I'm sure he was just teasing," Devon said, hiding her annoyance. She could certainly respect Danziger's desire to be perfectly upfront with his daughter, but it could be extremely inconvenient. Why frighten the children before they had to?
Still, she had to admit Uly and True seemed anything but frightened, and she smiled in spite of herself. Danziger might be a pessimist, but somehow he managed to make everyone feel like things would work out somehow. Especially her.
If John Danziger had overheard this thought, he probably would have laughed. Just then he was feeling none too brave. Turning back toward camp, he could see Yale surveying the terrain ahead, but everyone else seemed to still be in their tents. He figured he had maybe half an hour before someone came looking for him. Just enough time for a fix.
A stand of scrawny trees growing among a scattering of gray boulders provided at least a modicum of privacy, and he reached into his pocket and took out his VR gear. Taking a deep breath, he slipped it on his head.
Eleanor--not the fragile, comatose creature he'd left on the stations but the vibrant, beautiful woman who'd conceived his daughter--suddenly appeared before him. "Hiya," she grinned. "Did everything work out all right?"
"Eventually," he answered around the lump in his throat. The image was weak--this holo program had never been the best, and it had been through hell over the past three decades. But she still broke his heart just standing there. "Devon's okay, and we're on our way to New Pacifica again."
"That's great," she enthused, but he could tell she really didn't care. This program had been recorded in the early days of their relationship, when he was still just one of several station drones panting after a piece of her . . . heart, he scolded himself. This was, after all, the mother of his child. The programming wasn't sophisticated enough for her character to have evolved naturally or developed any sense of time, so talking to her was really no more effective than speaking into a journal recorder--nothing that hadn't mattered to her when the holo was done mattered to her now, although she could remember facts. And sometimes just seeing her face and hearing her voice was enough.
"I am really missing you," he said, forcing himself to smile.
"I miss you, too," she replied, stepping lightly into his arms. This was part of the original program, and the sensations were sharper, more focussed. Painfully focussed--he could actually taste her lip gloss when she reached up and kissed him. She rested her head against his breastbone and squeezed him tight around the waist. "You worry too much," she soothed. "Didn't you just say everything was okay again?" She drew back and took his chin in her tiny hand. "John, I want to help," she urged, her forehead drawn in frustration. "You just have to tell me stuff--"
"Nothing's wrong, Ellie," he promised, pulling her close again. "Like you said, everything's okay." Planting a final tender kiss on the top of her head, he reached up and flipped off his gear.
"I can fix that thing, you know," a familiar voice spoke up from nearby. Turning he found Tara Donahoe sitting cross-legged on one of the boulders, regarding him with what may have been amusement and may have been simple interest. "Sorry for eavesdropping," she said, getting up with her own VR gear dangling from her hand. "But technically I was here first."
"You shouldn't be wandering around out here by yourself," he groused, annoyed. Danziger actually sort of liked Tara, and he certainly thought she had gotten a raw deal from Reilly and his EVE, but she had a nasty habit of turning up at the worst possible time.
"I'm not worried," she replied. She held out her hand, and he found himself handing over the Eleanor program. "So who is she?" she asked, seeming to weigh it in her palm.
"True's mother," he answered gruffly. Not for the first time he wondered just how much access this harmless-looking little biological anomaly had to the brain data of the Eden Project-- weren't they all supposed to be connected somehow now? "She died in an accident back on the stations before True was born."
"This is a crummy program," Tara remarked conversationally. Her eyes were no longer focussed on his face, and he realized she was scanning the tube in her now-glowing palm. "The VR version of an old-timey snapshot. You got anything better?"
"Just something a friend of mine recorded for True right after the accident," he answered. He had fought Alex tooth and nail over that-- recording a comatose Ellie had seemed disgusting at the time, a ghoulish mistake. But later, when he'd finally shown the program to True, he'd been forced to admit Alex was right. "Look, I'm not really interested--"
"Are you sure?" Tara pressed, her eyes snapping into focus again. "I mean, if the other recording picked up brain impressions, I could use it to make her seem more real."
"She's real enough to me already," he said, taking the tube back.
Tara smiled and nodded. "You're probably right," she admitted. "VR is a crutch. Believe me, I know."
"You and Morgan," he laughed, immediately regretting it when he saw her face. He and the rest of the group had seen that fragile smile a lot over the past three months. Tara had made a lot of progress--working through her grief, Yale called it. But the slightest mention of Val could still send her into a black depression that lasted for days. And as usual, he had blundered into a sensitive area like the proverbial bull charging Wedgewood. Women are mine fields, he thought with an inward groan. "So you have a VR recording of Val?" he asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
"Not an official recording, no," she answered. "Can you believe it? I spend my whole life doing these stupid programs, and I never get the one person I really care about on a tube." She popped a tube out of her gear and held it up between her fingertips. "But I remember him," she said, studying it. "And somewhere in my head is an after-image from when he stumbled into me that first time, like Magus . . . all I have to do is find it."
The whole concept of Tara as supercomputer always made Danziger nervous, particularly when the one discussing it was the lady herself. "Tara, honey, have you talked to Yale or Julia about this?" he ventured.
"Of course not," she snapped, popping the tube back into her gear. "They'd just say it was unhealthy, that I need to move on--Yale says I have to let Val go, like I have a choice about it, like he gave me a choice . . . " She stopped, pressing her fists to her temples. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes closed. "I didn't mean to dump on you, it's just . . ." She opened her eyes and looked up at him, giving him the look that always made Wolman drop something and stumble over his own boots. "When I saw your program, I thought maybe you'd understand."
"I do understand, sort of," Danziger said, more uncomfortable than dazzled but soft-hearted enough to feel compelled to comfort her somehow. "I mean, why else would I be out here in the middle of nowhere accessing a holo of a woman I know's been dead for thirty years or more?
"That thought did occur," she answered, smiling. "A bad holo, at that. Look, why don't you at least let me take a look at it, just to see what I can do?" Her angelic smile broadened into a devilish grin. "Maybe I can even bump her reality factor up enough to make her tell you it's okay to be in love with Devon," she said, giving him a sidelong glance.
Hey, kiddo, this is why half the Eden Project hates your pretty guts, he almost told her. "You're jumping to conclusions again," he said instead.
"Yeah, right," she teased. "Look, I promise I won't damage the original programming, and I won't ask you any questions about her or Devon or anything else. Just let me give it a try." She held out her hand. "Please?"
His eyes narrowed, but he couldn't really be angry with her. "On one condition," he said at last. "That while you're working on my project, you leave your own memory banks alone."
Her smiled faded. "Is that a bluff?" she asked petulantly. "Look, Danziger, if you don't want me playing with your toys, just say so--"
"That isn't it, and you know it," he said, finally finding the right tone--talk to Tara like you talk to True, the tiny smart section of his brain advised. "I just know that the more time you spend picking yourself to pieces trying to put your husband back together, the worse shape you're going to be in physically. And unless you've forgotten, almost all of us have a stake in keeping you healthy." This was true--Julia had said as much, wondering aloud why Tara wasn't recovering faster from the burns and cerebral scoring of her battle royal with EVE, and now he knew why. The woman was killing herself trying to resurrect her dead husband.
She didn't answer for a long time, and just as she opened her mouth to do so, True and Uly came running through the woods. "Dad, come on!" True demanded. "We've been looking all over for you guys."
"In a minute, True-girl," he called back. "Tara, what do you say?"
She held out her hand. "Give me the tube," she said. "But be ready, Danziger. She's going to knock your socks off."
End of Part 1

Escaping the Pyre, Part 2
by Jayel

WRITER'S NOTE: Thanks to Jani, Rosa, and "Dr. Hellar" for their suggestions, questions and comments. You're really helping steer this one in the right direction.

Devon had felt ridiculous, sending the children to fetch John that way, as if he were an errant child himself, but she hadn't known what else to do. And as the day progressed, she found herself feeling less guilty and more irritated--what was he doing out there in the middle of nowhere while everyone else was trying to pack up and get moving? More specifically, what was he doing out in there in the middle of nowhere with Tara Donahoe--and there she stopped and felt ridiculous again. Obviously John could escape camp to find a bit of privacy with anyone he chose, and she should have nothing to say about it. Certainly she had no real interest in what he and Tara might have had to say to one another that couldn't be overheard by the rest of the group- -John's private affairs were just that, private, and none of her business whatsoever. But making sure everyone pulled their weight, particularly in the mornings when things were so hectic, was her business, and she felt compelled by duty to mention to him that his timing needed a little work.
She waited until after they had stopped for the night and everyone else was busy making camp to approach him. He had just finished hauling the last of the tents from the back of the transrover and was securing the truck for the night, so he didn't hear her approach until she was standing right behind him. "Danziger," she began, startling him so badly he slammed the transrover's hatch on his hand.
After a few choice oaths and a dirty look, he managed to choke out, "Yes?"
"Oh, John, I'm so sorry," she stammered, blushing red. "Are you--? Here, let me see--"
"I'm fine, Mom," he teased, smiling at her, making her blush even harder. Devon took such pride in being on top of everything, he couldn't help but enjoy watching her lose her composure, even if it meant bruised knuckles. And actually, he had to admit he thought she was pretty cute. "Was there something you wanted? Or are you just checking my reflexes?"
"No," she demurred, smiling back in spite of her embarrassment. "I mean, yes--I did want to talk to you about something."
"Okay," he said amiably, offering her a seat on the bumper. "What's up? Is Uly giving you a hard time about taking a bath again?"
"No, I think whatever you said to him last time made a permanent impression," she said, trying to regain her righteous indignation. "Danziger, it's about this morning . . . I don't know what you and Tara were doing up there, but we wasted a lot of time looking for you that should have been spent--"
"And my first question has got to be why," he interrupted, stung and righteously indignant on his own behalf. "Can't you people tie your own shoelaces in the mornings without me here to tell you how to do it? I know it's a mechanical operation, Adair, but even you should have worked it out by now." Oh, now that's fair, he thought to himself. Calm down, Danziger--just because you're embarrassed about the VR thing is no reason to hurt Devon's feelings.
"Yes, I think I can manage shoelaces just perfectly on my own," Devon shot back, trying not to remember the trouble she had had getting True and Uly dressed. "But you insist on making these vehicles your personal mission in life, so consequently we need you when we're ready to pack--"
"Did we or did we not leave at the exact same time this morning as we do every morning?" he interrupted again.
"Yes, but that's not the point--"
"So what is the point?"
Good question, Devon thought glumly. He made her so furious, not letting her get a word in edgewise and cutting her off and being so . . . blunt, she supposed was the word, but not really. She was a planner--the Eden Project was proof enough for anyone that she thought things through and approached problems in logical phases, addressing each individual issue in its turn, weighing all possible points of view as she went along. But Danziger always insisted on cutting to the chase; oblique reasoning was entirely lost on him. "I need you," she heard herself say without ever actually planning to say it. "In the mornings, with the kids--I'm just not strong enough yet to get them moving in the right direction by myself--It's not their fault; they're just so full of energy--"
"I know," he interrupted again, this time because he felt like such a heel. "Adair, I'm sorry--"
"No, you're right; I do depend on you too much," she cut him off. Why was hearing the slightest note of tenderness in his voice so frightening? Her heart was actually pounding in her chest--surely he could hear it. "It's just that you're so easy to depend on," she finished, forcing herself to look up into his eyes.
Now it was Danziger's turn to if not blush, at least feel a little warm in the face. "I don't mind," he said gruffly, looking away from what he was afraid he might see in her eyes. "And you're right, Adair, you are taking on too much too soon--"
"Dad!" Projection would never be a problem for True--her voice was perfectly distinct and her impatience perfectly obvious even from fifty feet away.
"Over here, True," Devon called back, getting to her feet, halfrelieved at the interruption.
"Dad, Tara sent me to find you," True said, coming up to her father and barely sparing Devon a glance. "I left her in our tent--"
"Tell her I'll be there in a minute," Danziger cut her off. Now what, he grumbled in his head, mentally kicking himself for being embarrassed.
"She said for me not to come back without you," True persisted.
"Sounds like something important," Devon said brightly, trying not to even begin to speculate what the other woman could so urgently want. "You'd better hurry."
"I doubt it," John said. "Listen, Adair--"
"Daddy, come on," True interrupted in an uncharacteristic whine. "Let's go."
"Hey, that's enough," John said, giving her a sharp look. "Adair--" But Devon was gone, slipping into one of the tents nearby. "What's gotten into you, True-girl?" he demanded. "That's was rude--"
"So?" True retorted petulantly.
"So maybe you owe Adair an apology," John said, for the moment more mystified than angry. True hadn't behaved this badly in months, and she and Devon had been getting along beautifully, or so it had seemed to him. She had certainly been glad when Devon had come out of cold sleep all right, and in fact had seemed to go out of her way to be closer to the woman, taking her into her confidence and even allowing her to . . . the only phrase that seemed appropriate was "play mom."
"So I'll apologize," True said grudgingly, dragging him through the middle of camp toward their tent. "But Dad, you've got to come see this thing."
"What thing?" he asked.
"This VR program Tara's done," she continued, looking up at him with shining eyes.
For a moment, his brain wouldn't focus on what she meant. "Wait a second," he said, the harbingers of a red and buzzing rage threatening his emotional horizon. "What VR--"
"The VR program of Mom," True explained. "Dad, she is so beautiful--"
"Tara showed it to you?" he interrupted, struggling to keep his voice even.
"Yes," True admitted slowly. She hadn't lived so long in her father's exclusive company without learning to gauge when he was upset. "Daddy, don't be mad, please," she begged. "I asked her what she was doing, and when she told me, I just wanted to peek--"
"Tara can explain all of that to me," he cut her off, not trusting himself to listen to any more without exploding and suddenly in a terrible hurry to go wring Tara Donahoe's neck. "You go find Adair and tell her you're sorry--"
"But Dad, I want to see--"
"True, I said go--"
"No!" This stopped him short, and True felt all the blood drain from her cheeks in a cold rush at the fury in his blue eyes as he glared at her. "Why should I apologize to Devon, anyway?" she went on bravely. "I didn't do anything wrong. You're my dad, and I needed you--"
"True," he began, trying to listen calmly like he knew as a father he was supposed to no matter how much he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled in her adorable blonde head.
"And Devon Adair is not my mother!" True finished with a shriek that brought curious glances from several members of the Eden Project who were still setting up camp around them.
"No one is suggesting that she is," John answered grimly, lifting his daughter off her feet and carrying her back toward the transrover.
True thought he would say more once they were out of earshot of everyone else, but he was silent as the grave. "Daddy, I'm sorry," she said tearfully, holding on tight. "I like Devon, a lot, really--"
"We'll talk about it later," he said brusquely. Part of him wanted to kiss her and tell her all was forgiven, but . . . well, True had definitely inherited her mother's talent for finding his rawest nerve at the worst possible moment.
"I don't mean to be bad," she insisted. "But you guys, you and Devon, keep acting like--like Uly and I have turned into this unit, this two-headed monster called the kids that belongs to both of you together, equally, and I hate it."
"True-girl, I said we'd talk about it later," he said, setting her inside the truck. "Now stay here while I go talk to Tara--I mean it, True, stay here." He started to close the door, but the misery in her face was like a knife in his heart. "I know Devon isn't your mother," he said slowly without meeting her eyes. "And I don't want her to be any more than you do, believe me. But she is a friend . . . she cares . . . True, listen to me," he said, looking up suddenly and touching her cheek. "I wish I could give you your real mom back--I wish I could bring her back for both of us. But I can't." He stroked her hair tenderly. "And neither can Tara Donahoe."
"I know that, Daddy," she conceded. "But I think she's come pretty close."

Julia, meanwhile, was basking in what she privately called her "golden twilight." For a few short hours every night between the time they made camp until about an hour after they went to bed, she felt almost like herself again--no nausea, no phantom aches and pains. By sundown, even her posterior had begun to recover somewhat from the numbness of a day's bone-jarring ride in the rail.
Unfortunately, this was also the time of day the rest of Eden Advance usually chose to bring her their own little medical crises. But at least Morgan was entertaining.
"Julia, you have got to do something," he insisted, his eyes wild with desperation. "I have got to get some rest tonight, or--Why are you smiling?"
"Morgan, I'm sorry," she said, trying to suppress her amusement behind a mask of professionalism. "But I can't help wondering what exactly you want me to do."
"Make her slow down, for pity's sake," he retorted.
"You want me to tell Bess not to have sex?" she asked. "I can't--"
"No!" he shouted, then glanced at the doorway in embarrassment. "Not that she shouldn't have sex at all," he continued more softly. "Just that she shouldn't have sex EVERY WAKING MINUTE. Ha, did I say waking? No, she doesn't even have to be awake--or I don't--Julia . . ." He caught hold of her hand as if in supplication. "Julia, please. I mean, look at me! I'm a wreck!"
"Morgan, it's all right," Julia soothed, trying not to smile and failing sadly. "Really, I checked you out, and other than being a little tired, you seem just fine--"
"Today I seem just fine," he retorted. "Next week, I'll seem just dead."
"Don't be so melodramatic," she scolded. "Bess' body is going through a series of perfectly natural hormonal changes, but if she's become . . . too much for you, then I can only suggest that you say no once in a while."
"Say no," he repeated, deadpan. "Sure, no problem. Pardon me for saying so, Dr. Heller, but you're obviously a woman."
"Thanks," Julia answered with a grin as Alonzo came in.
"Hey guys," Alonzo said. "What's going on?"
"Morgan here has just decided that I am, tragically, a woman," Julia explained.
"Hey, you're good," Alonzo teased. "What gave her away?"
"Very funny," Morgan retorted, making his exit. "Laugh now, flyboy. Next month, you may not have the energy."
"What's with him?" Alonzo asked, watching him go.
"He's a bit cranky," Julia explained, putting her glove away. "Not enough rest--Bess has been keeping him up nights."
"Up or up?" Alonzo joked. "Yeah, I heard--or rather, Magus and Wolman heard. They've been trying to sleep in the tent next to the Martin's." He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "So what was he suggesting--that it's only a matter of time before you become a sex fiend, too?"
"As strange as that may sound just now, yes, that's exactly what he was suggesting," she answered, slumping back into his embrace. This was almost the only comfortable position she had found since her pregnancy started showing--leaning against Alonzo and letting him help hold little Valentine up.
"I can't wait," he said, kissing the back of her neck.
"You just can't wait for me to stop throwing up all the time," she retorted.
"That will be a nice fringe benefit, I have to admit," he teased. "So tell me, Doc, when will we know?"
"Know what?" she asked, turning to him.
"Know whether it's a boy or a girl," he explained with a grin.
"Actually, we could know right now if we really wanted to," she answered. "I just haven't done the test--I guess I want Valentine to be a mystery for a little while longer--it's hard enough for me to picture the two of us as parents at all."
"Why is that so hard?" he asked, drawing her down beside him on the only bench in the tent with a back support.
"I don't know," she shrugged, wondering why on earth she had ever brought this up. "I'm a doctor, totally committed to my work, and you're a pilot, totally in love with flying. How are we ever going to find time to rear a child, boy or girl?"
"We'll make time," he assured her with a kiss.
"Yeah," she agreed with a smile, sliding her arms up around his neck and kissing him back. "Hey, 'Lonzo," she said softly as he moved to kiss her throat.
"Yeah, Doc?" he laughed without looking up.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Isn't it a little late to ask that now?" he joked.
"No, I'm serious . . . about the baby, I mean," she said, making him look at her. "Are you sure you're happy?"
His eyes widened, and his signature grin broke out all over his face. "No, I'm just faking," he said sarcastically. "Yes, Doc . . . yes, I am completely, totally, incredibly happy about the baby." He kissed her. "And about you." He kissed her again. "And about us . . ."
"Good," she said with a most un-doctor-like giggle, snuggling close again.
"As a matter of fact," he began. "I was wondering what you'd think about--"
"Julia, could I talk to you, please?" Devon interrupted, coming in unannounced as usual.
Only Julia's genetic skewing against violence coupled with her Hippocratic oath kept her from flinging something big and heavy at her friend's red head. "Sure, Devon, why not?" she said, extricating herself from Alonzo's arms. "After all, this is the medtent, and I am the doctor, so what could I possibly need with five minutes of privacy? Alonzo and I would probably pine away from sheer loneliness if someone didn't come barging in every minute of the day and night."
"Hey, Doc, it's okay," Alonzo said, feeling strangely relieved in the midst of his disappointment. If he hadn't asked the big question, Julia couldn't say no, so technically Devon had given him a few more hours of hope. And worry. "I'll go see which watch I have tonight."
"I'll take your watch," Devon said quickly. "But Julia, I'd really like to talk to you now.
End of Part 2
Nothing much to say except here it is--a couple of people have wondered just how long this thing is going to be, and I only wish I could tell them. The game plan as of right now is for five parts of which this is the third. Comments, questions, suggestions and even full-blown abuse are welcome as always.
Thanks!
Jayel

Escaping the Pyre, Part 3
by Jayel

Tara seemed deeply engrossed in whatever program was running through the gear on her head, but she looked up as soon as Danziger came through the tent flap. "There you are," she said, switching off. "Where's True?"
"Not here," he shot back. "And where do you get off showing her your science project? Are you out of your mind?"
"I thought you guys were all still trying to work that one out for yourselves," she answered glibly, removing her gear. "As for showing True the program, that was an accident. I was riding in the back of the truck this afternoon with this things tuned to a deserted channel, working on my science project as you so cleverly style it, when Miss True just suddenly appeared. She's a nosy little critter, isn't she?"
"You're saying she just walked into the program," he said, ignoring her question.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Tara retorted. "She's smart,
too--that channel was secured."
"How much did she see?" he demanded.
"Not much--no more than a few seconds, I'd say. But it was enough for her to recognize her mother, and she demanded I tell her what was going on. Very forceful--she's definitely your daughter, big guy." She popped a gleaming platinum tube from her gear, the kind of top of the line hardware Danziger had rarely seen, much less used on the stations. "I suppose I could have conjured up a lie, but rumor has it you're a real stickler for truth-telling when it comes to your kid."
"Just what truth did you choose to tell?" he asked.
"I told her you had given me the old program for an upgrade," she began with a sigh. She reached out and took his hand, turning the palm up. "Here, just take this," she entreated, putting the tube in his hand and closing his fingers around it. "If you still want to kill me after you've seen it, I won't try to stop you."
"What did True say when you told her what it was?" he demanded.
"Why don't you ask her?" she asked, heading for the tent flap.
"I'm asking you," he retorted, catching hold of her arm just hard enough to stop her.
Her face went pale, then flushed. "Let go of me," she ordered, staring away from him, her voice soft but acid.
"Tara, what did she--"
"Damn it, Danziger, I said let go!" she shouted, loudly enough that anyone passing by outside couldn't help but hear. He released his grip on her arm, and she jerked away, rubbing her wrist. "Just don't touch me," she spat, her violet-blue eyes sparkling with anger or unshed tears.
"Just tell me what you said to True," he persisted, refusing to be taken in. "Did you tell her it was for her?" The thought occurred that Tara was reminding him more and more of a certain strawberry blonde Alex had tried to warn him away from back on the stations, a self-serving little vixen who had barely let him escape with his life, as he recalled.
"No," Tara answered impatiently. "I told her it was for you. She asked why; I told her I didn't know, but that I suspected it had something to do with Devon."
That explains a lot, he thought sarcastically. "Great," he said aloud. "Thanks a lot, Donahoe."
"You're welcome," she retorted. "You know, you people make me . . . forget it, never mind." She picked up her gear from where she'd dropped it when he caught her. "Let me know what you think of Eleanor," she said lightly, going out. "Or better yet, don't."

"Devon, I really don't see Tara becoming romantically involved with anyone right now," Julia was saying in the meantime.
"I didn't say I thought their involvement was necessarily romantic," Devon hastened to object.
"No, but you did imply it," Julia pointed out gently. "Devon, listen to me . . . I can't speak for Danziger, but if anyone in this group knows Tara, I do. And the last thing that's likely to happen to her right now is falling in love, or even lust. You never saw her with Val, or you'd realize . . . " She broke off, seeing Devon blush scarlet. As ridiculous as the conversation seemed to her, she couldn't help but be sympathetic, remembering how hard her own feelings for Alonzo had been for her to even accept, let alone express. "I honestly don't think you have anything to worry about," she finished.
"I'm not worried," Devon protested, but her embarrassed grin betrayed her. "Okay, so maybe I am," she admitted with a sigh. "Julia, I swear I don't know how this happened. One day he was just this incredibly irritating man I was stuck trying to compromise with at every turn, and the next . . . " She shook her head as if she still couldn't believe what she was saying. "I can't imagine being without him," she murmured, more to herself than to Julia. "I have no idea what his feelings are for me--I don't even know if what I feel could be called love. I just know that the idea of him being with someone else drives me crazy."
Julia was thinking of how determined John had been to rescue this anxious woman from EVE--in her mind's eye, she could still see the look on his face as he used an axe to break her free of the ship he knew in his heart would destroy her. "I think I know how you feel," she said aloud with a smile. "There were a couple of months when I thought I would die anytime I saw Alonzo so much as smile at another woman. That day with the spiders, when John punched him? I can't tell you how much I wanted to punch you."
"I know," Devon grinned. "I could tell."
"The point is that given time, it worked out," Julia continued. "And so will this. If you and John Danziger are, heaven forbid, meant to be together, you will be, and nothing and no one can stop it."
"You're absolutely right," Devon decided. "And if we're not, my worrying this way won't help."

Uly had spent the past hour doing True's share of the camp-making chores as well as his own, so by the time he found her, a lump of pure misery huddled behind the wheel of the transrover, he was too annoyed to be very sympathetic. "What are you doing in there?" he demanded, climbing up to join her.
"Waiting for my dad," she answered irritably. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," he admitted, settling into the seat beside her. "What did you do to make him leave you in here?"
"None of your business," True retorted. "And he didn't leave me here, really--I could leave if I wanted to. I just don't." She paused. "Uly, do you miss your dad?"
"How could I?" he asked. "I never met him."
"I never met my mom, either," she pointed out. "But I miss her all the time."
"I know," he admitted. "But Tara isn't her."
"No kidding, doofus," she shot back. "Like I don't know that . . . I just wonder about Mom sometimes, that's all. What do they do with you on the stations when you die? Just burn you up with the rest of the garbage?"
"I'm not sure," Uly answered. "Probably--I know what they used to do with dead people back on earth, though. Yale gave me a holo about it."
"Gross!" True exclaimed, making a face.
"No, it's really interesting," Uly insisted. "I asked for it back when the Commander died that first time. It shows you these mummies, and about how other ancient people used to bury their dead in big clay jars. And the Vikings, they were really cool. If you were a Viking warrior, they would put your dead body with your sword and armor in a wooden ship and set it on fire."
"That's disgusting," True said.
"No, the holo was really beautiful," he protested. "The funeral it showed was at night, so the fire was burning on the water against a black, black sky with stars. They thought by doing it that way, they were sending the warrior to Valhalla, warrior heaven. The only ones I thought were gross were the Hindus, and Yale said that was because I didn't understand their beliefs."
"What did they do?" she asked, interested in spite of herself.
"Lots of different things," Uly answered. But the pyre was what got me . . . they would burn their dead, too, just like the Vikings, but instead of putting the dead guy on a ship, they would build this big pyre right in the middle of town, and all of the dead guy's relatives would gather around and watch him burn."
"Gross!" True repeated. "Did they show that in the holo?"
"Yeah, and it gets worse," he said, his eyes wide just remembering the image. "Sometimes the guy's wife would get so freaked out watching him burn that she'd jump on the pyre alive and burn up with him."
"You're lying," True decided. "Why would anyone do that?"
"I'm not lying, and I don't know," he answered, feeling queasy. "That was the part Yale said I didn't understand."
"Yeah, well, I don't understand it either," True said with a shudder. "I can't believe Yale let you look at all that stuff."
"I don't think he realized how much detail was in the holo when he gave it to me," Uly admitted.
Suddenly their conversation was cut off by the sight and sound of Bess storming out of her tent.
"No, really, Morgan, I don't mind," she yelled back sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to endanger your delicate health any further with my unnatural desires."
"Bess, wait," Morgan pleaded, coming out just in time to watch her storm out of camp. "Bess!" He looked up and saw True and Uly staring at him curiously. "Hey, you kids get out of there!" he ordered. "That transrover is not a toy."
"Come on, True," Uly said. "Let's go find something to eat. Your dad will find you."

But Danziger was still standing where Tara had left him, staring down at the platinum cylinder cradled in his palm. Twice now he had made the decision to pick up his VR gear and get it over with--he had even reached for the gear once. But finally he dropped the cylinder into a secured compartment on his backpack. "Secured to my voice print only," he ordered. "True Danziger access specifically denied." That done, he went to find his kid.
End of Part 3.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 4
by Jayel

Bess had outwalked the hottest part of her fury before she was half a mile out of camp. After all, she *had* been putting some pretty heavy physical demands on Morgan lately. She just felt so alive, so vital, as if life itself were a warm, sweet dew steaming out of her pores. Every time the baby moved, she felt like clasping the whole world to her bosom and covering it with kisses. And naturally she loved Morgan most of all. He was the wizard who had helped her work this magic, the other half of her miracle. Just the sight of his fine, black hair falling in an anxious tangle over his high, pale forehead made her tingle with desire, and she had assumed he felt the same. Hearing him say he needed a break had hurt her feelings and wounded her pride, but on cooler consideration she supposed she could understand. She had always had more physical stamina than her husband. Poor sweetie, she thought she an affectionate sigh.
Still it was such a pretty night, soft and cool with a deepblue, star-sprinkled sky. She hated to hurry back and face the inevitable curiosity of the rest of the Eden Project, even for the sake of making up. Let him stew awhile, she thought, brushing aside the tender branches of some saplings in her path.
Suddenly she heard someone crying--not the kind of muffled whimpers she occasionally indulged in herself after Morgan was asleep, but full-blown, violent sobbing. One of the women from the Eden Project had slipped out here to find some privacy for a violent fit of grief, and here was Bess, stumbling over her in the dark. Should she try to slip away unnoticed, or offer whoever it was her help? Before she could decide, a luma flashed on her face, and she found herself standing over Tara.
"Go away," the other woman choked out, covering her face with her hands, and Bess was sorely tempted to obey. She was no fan of Tara Donahoe, not after she had all but refused to help them survive. Julia might have forgiven her for almost letting Alonzo die, but every time Bess thought of those terrible days at the EVE ship, all she could remember was fear for her baby and rage that this woman who said she could save them wouldn't. Nor, to her mind, had Tara done anything sinc her husband's death to particularly endear herself . . . since her husband's death . . .
"Tara, don't," she said, going to the other woman and putting an arm around her trembling shoulders. Tara stiffened, and Bess thought for a moment she would push her away. Then suddenly she turned and buried her face in Bess' shoulder and wept like a child. "It's okay, honey," Bess soothed, crying a little herself. "You go right on and cry. It's the best thing for you."
"Is it?" Tara asked, straightening up and wiping fruitlessly at her still-streaming tears. "I don't know . . . I'm so sorry, Bess."
"For what?" Bess asked, brushing Tara's tangled curls back from her face.
Tara just looked at her for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted with an hysterical little snort of laughter. "Everything, I guess. For being such a burden--"
"But you're not," Bess insisted. "You pull your own weight in the group just like everybody else."
"But I'm not really part of the group, am I?" Tara said with a sniff. "You've all been together so long, and you're so close . . . It's okay; I understand, really. I know I'm not . . . I mean, I've never been good at . . . except with Val." She looked up, meeting Bess' eyes. "He was everything, Bess, I swear it, *everything,* and I miss him so much."
"I know," Bess soothed. "If I lost Morgan . . . " But the idea was too horrific for imagining.
"I can't stand it," Tara went on as if she hadn't heard. "When he died, Bess, I felt it. We were on gear together, you see--he was helping me hold on, and I wouldn't let go . . . and then he burned . . . "
"Don't," Bess interrupted, frightened by the sudden glow of her eyes.
"I have to," Tara insisted. "I can't stop feeling it--touch my skin. Can't you feel it?"
"Yes," Bess admitted. Touching the bare skin of her arm was like putting a hand to a stove, or a piece of Morganite.
"It happens every time I think of him," Tara said. "And I can't stop thinking . . . and every time, all I see, all I feel and smell and taste is that awful burning. I wake up in the night, and I can still smell it on my clothes and taste it--he tried not to scream, I can tell, but in his head--"
"Tara, please," Bess begged, shaking her. She had purposely put the idea of how Val might have died out of her mind. He was dead, and they were safe, and God bless him for it. But she couldn't push this away.
"Sometimes, I almost hate him," Tara continued, her eyes glowing almost as brightly as her lumalamp. "I love him . . . I want him back he way he was before. I want my husband, not this monster . . . " Her hands were clasped so tightly Bess saw a thin trickle of blood oozing from each dimly glowing fist.
"Tara, stop it!" she ordered, forcing the woman's fingers to open. "Look what you've done to yourself--"
"I deserve it," Tara insisted, looking dispassionately down at the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms as the eerie glow faded away.
"That's foolishness," Bess scolded, her voice shrill with anxiety. "How could you possibly deserve--"
"Because I want somebody else," Tara interrupted, so softly that for a moment Bess wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. "That's what's killing me, Bess, more than the fire. This wanting, this longing for the sweet, sweet cool of somebody else."

In spite of Devon's hastily-made offer to pull a double shift, Alonzo chose to stand his own watch. And as luck would have it, Morgan Martin pulled the same slot, emerging bleary-eyed from his tent after a couple of hours of what everyone assumed was reconciliation with his wife. "Coffee?" Alonzo asked, straight-faced. "I hear you've been feeling a little run down lately."
"Everybody's a comedian," Morgan muttered, but he took the steaming cup.
"Sorry, man," Alonzo said. They sat in grudgingly companionable silence for several minutes, Morgan sipping away in a series of grumbling slurps.
"Hey, Morgan," Alonzo began.
"Yes?" Morgan answered, peering suspiciously over the edge of his mug.
"When you and Bess decided to get married," Alonzo continued, hoping to sound tactful. "How did it--I mean, how did she--Listen, Morgan, how did you manage to talk her into it?"
"You know, Solace, I've had just about enough of you and your moronic fly-boy insinuations," Morgan said.
"Hey, man, I'm serious!" Alonzo insisted. "I don't mean to be insulting, but you know--"
"Bess is gorgeous, and sweet, and sexy, and how in the world did she end up married to a bureaucratic mole like me?" Morgan finished, but he was almost smiling. "What's the matter, Solace? Julia getting old? Looking to trade up?"
"Not at all," Alonzo replied, forcing himself to be straight with the guy. "Actually, I was think of--let's just say I'm shopping around for the best way to propose."
"Ah," Morgan said with a grin. "Going to make an honest woman of her before the bundle is delivered, huh?"
"Something like that," Alonzo said. "So come on, Morgan. Be a pal. Tell me how you did it."
For a moment he thought Morgan would refuse on principle, but then he leaned forward conspiratorially. "I didn't," he grinned. "She asked me."
"No way," Alonzo asked.
"Believe me, no one was more shocked than I was," Morgan admitted. "I mean, here was Bess, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and we had nothing in common, really. I mean, she was so sweet, and I'm . . . And she was from the surface where her father worked with his hands, and I was--well, you know. I worshipped the ground she walked on. And I guess maybe that was it."
"What?" Alonzo said, thinking that maybe he had never liked Morgan so much as he did just then.
"Bess is my life, and she has been ever since the day we met," Morgan explained. "And I've never made any secret of that. You wouldn't believe how many times I've made a complete fool of myself over that woman."
"Yes I would," Alonzo grinned. "I've seen you."
"So maybe that's why she asked me," Morgan said. "I have no doubt that Bess could have found a man who was smarter than I am, kinder than I am, better-looking, richer, and I know she knows it, too. But she also knows that she'll never find a man who could love her as much as I do."
Alonzo didn't say anything for a long moment. "Thanks, Morgan," he said at last. "That's good advice."
"What advice?" Morgan retorted. "My advice is to save yourself some heartache and forget the whole thing. Julia's a doctor and the daughter of a Council member. Why in heaven's name would she want to marry you?"
"Thanks, Morgan," Alonzo said sarcastically, kicking Morgan's feet off the log he'd propped them on. "You're a real pal."
End of Part 4.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 5
by Jayel

After two more days of seemingly endless plain, the Eden Project had found a new horizon. A line of dark bluish-green humps had appeared in the distance, forming a barrier between the yellowing grass and a sky that was quickly fading from the brilliant azure of late summer to the steely gray of fall. "Do you think those are the mountains we've been looking for?" Devon asked Danziger as they stood at the front of the procession.
"Maybe," he said doubtfully, peering through his viewer. "More likely a forest--I'll go check it out."
"What--John, wait!" she cried, following him back to the transrover. "What do you mean, you'll go check it out?"
"I mean I'm going to pack some gear and take the rail up there and see what we're looking at," he replied, hauling out his backpack. "No use backtracking this entire caravan because we can't get the vehicles through."
"But you said you didn't think those were mountains," she pointed out.
"I said I didn't know," he answered. He flipped open the transrover's back hatch and fished out a handful of food packets. "From the looks of it, I'd say whatever it is shouldn't be more than a day's drive away, and besides, some of these people could use the rest."
To Devon, everything he said sounded almost but not quite reasonable. "I'm going with you," she decided. "Just let me get some gear and ask Bess to watch out for the kids--"
"No," he said firmly, turning to look her squarely in the eye. "Not this time."
"John, be reasonable--you can't just head out to nowhere all by yourself," she objected.
"Yeah, I can, and I will." He stopped, putting down his backpack to lay his hands on her shoulders. "Dev . . . I *have* to."
She looked up into his eyes, trying to interpret the emotions she saw there. All she could be sure of was that he was telling her the truth and that he needed her to understand. "Okay," she agreed with a nod. "Just promise me you'll stay in touch--and that you'll be careful." She grinned. "I mean, it does seem that every time I let you out of my sight, you end up shot or deathly ill or dehydrated--"
"Enough!" he laughed, throwing up his hands in surrender. "All right; I'll be careful."
"You promise?" she persisted, suddenly serious.
His smile faded, too, and he leaned toward her slowly, giving her ample time to back away before softly and ever-so-tenderly kissing her lips. "I promise," he murmured. Before her world could stop spinning enough to let her form a reply, he had snatched up his backpack and gone.
Tara was unpacking supplies from the rail when he reached it. "Where are you off to in such an all-fired hurry?" she demanded as he moved her aside and heaved the rest of the bundles out with a single mighty shove.
"Scouting ahead," he said curtly, climbing behind the wheel. "I'll be back in a couple of days."
"Cool," she replied, turning to walk away. "John, wait a minute!" she said, running back to the rail. "Are you taking the program?"
He gave her a long look. "Maybe," he conceded.
She chewed her lip for a moment. "That may not be--listen, don't stay on too long, okay?" she said at last. "It's a pretty intense program, and with no one around to snap you out of it . . . "
"What?" he asked.
"You might never come out at all," she admitted.
Danziger had heard about things like this back on the stations, black market VR so intense it could completely obliterate its user's actual reality, given enough time. "How long is too long?" he asked Tara.
"I can't be sure," she confessed. "I'd have to be in there with you to tell--but Eleanor will know."
"Excuse me?"
"Eleanor will know when your real world connection is slipping, and if you ask her, she'll tell you," Tara explained as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "She's a self-aware program--"
"She knows she's a program?" Danziger demanded.
"Not exactly . . . she knows that her reality and the reality of anyone else are parallel rather than concurrent," Tara said. "It's the best possible fail-safe device--she'll know that you've left your world to visit hers, and that if she doesn't warn you to come back, you could get stuck."
"So she'll tell me?" he asked.
"If she's the kind of girl who would tell," Tara answered. "I'll leave that call to you, big guy. Just to be safe, I'd say overnight is about as long as you should stay under, if that long." She stepped back from the rail. "Have fun," she said.
"Yeah, right," he muttered, forcing the rail into gear. "Tell anyone who asks I'll see them soon."

As much as she liked Danziger, Bess wasn't really sorry to hear he had gone, because his scouting expedition forced Eden Advance to stop, well, advancing. She would never have asked the group to stop just for her benefit, no matter how tired she felt. But the idea of spending a day or so without traveling definitely had its appeal. For one thing, the ready water supply made the prospect of a tub bath not only feasible but reasonably convenient.
She had just gotten the "Do Not Disburb" sign hung outside the tent, the tub filled with hot water, and her towels laid out when True stuck her head in. "Sorry for disturbing," she said sheepishly. "But I really need to talk."
"Come on in, honey," Bess urged, shedding her clothes with surprising grace, considering her condition. "You know I didn't mean you." She stepped into the tub, and True held her hand for support as she eased herself down into the water. "Thanks, honey," she sighed, sinking blissfully until the warm liquid lapped at her chin. "Now what do you want to talk about?"
"Dad didn't even say good-bye!" True exploded, pacing restlessly around the tent. "He told Devon good-bye--he even saw Tara before he left!"
"He did?" Bess queried, mentally pricking up her ears.
"She was unloading the rail when he took it," True explained, flopping onto the floor by the tub. "She's the one who told me he had gone, and Uly said he saw . . . " She broke off, and Bess could see she was blushing. "Uly said he saw Dad kiss his mom good-bye," she blurted out, staring down at the floor.
Bess suppressed her outward smile and her inward shout of relief. "Is Uly a reliable witness?" she asked.
"I guess so," True answered.
"Well, I still wouldn't worry about it," Bess soothed, the hot bath making her almost unbearably sleepy all of a sudden. "If your dad kissed Devon, I'm sure he was just being . . . friendly. And I'm sure if he forgot to say good-bye to you, that just means he intends to be back before you miss him."
"So you really think it's nothing?" True ventured.
Bess forced her heavy lids to open so she could look the little girl in the eye. "I think everything is going to be just fine," she promised.

After a few false starts and several trips to the tent flap to make sure no one was coming, Julia had finally finished attaching the proper video monitor to her diagnostic glove. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she slipped on the glove and touched her own swelling abdomen.
The image of a tiny, perfectly-formed fetus appeared on the monitor, the natural reddish-pink of its skin only slightly distorted by the artificial light. "Ohhhh," Julia breathed aloud, barely aware of the tears spilling over her cheeks. "Look at you . . .you have fingers . . . and toes--oh God, look at your face . . ."
Alonzo came in carrying a stack of clean blankets which he promptly dropped all over the floor. "Hey look," he enthused softly, as if the baby on the monitor could be disturbed by his voice. He put his arms around Julia's shoulders and squeezed her tight, careful not to jog the glove. "Is that him? Is that Valentine?"
"That is most definitely Valentine," Julia answered, her voice trembling with almost painful joy. "But I think Valentine is a she."
End of Part 5.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 6
by Jayel

Writer's Note: For anyone young or sensitive enough to care: There is some sexual activity in this section of the story. For a non-suggestive synopsis of all plot-necessary action, e-mail me at mlifsey@mail.sunbelt.net.
--Jayel

"Yep, this is definitely a forest," Danziger said to no one in particular as he gazed up at the massive trees rising majestically all around him. By all rights, he should have headed back to the group with the good news--even if they couldn't reach the mountains before the first snow flew, these trees would provide ample material for perfectly adequate winter shelter. If he started now, he would be in communications range by dark and the rest of the group could meet him by nightfall tomorrow.
But . . . Throwing the rail's controls into park, he got out and began to make camp for the night.

The entrance to the medtent was almost the scene of a collision when Tara started in just at the moment Bess was coming out. "Sorry," Tara said, stepping nimbly aside.
"It's okay," Bess assured her with an anxious smile. "See you later, all right?"
"Sure," Tara agreed, watching her hurry off. "Hey Doc," she said,going in. "Is something up with Bess?"
"Funny you should ask," Julia answered slowly. "She actually came by to see a video of she and Morgan's baby."
"How cool!" Tara enthused. "You can do that?"
"Of course," Julia said, going to the computer. "Here, look at this." She called up the image she had recorded earlier.
"Oh wow," Tara breathed. "Is that--?"
"That's Valentine," Julia confirmed.
"Julia, she's gorgeous," Tara said, lightly touching the screen with reverent fingertips. "How are you and 'Zo standing it? He's losing his mind, isn't he?"
"We're both pretty excited," Julia admitted.
"I know you are," Tara drawled, smiling with more sincere happiness than Julia had seen in her face since the EVE ship. "And you're really going to name that poor sweet child Valentine?"
"What else?" Julia said with a smile of her own. "Your accent's back, by the way."
"Is it?" Tara asked absently. "Maybe that means I'm better . . .
although it never really was mine." She turned away from the monitor with a sigh. "That's one of the quirks of being a gnat's nose away from a cyborg," she explained. "A tendency toward nearly-total self-identification with anything or anyone you find profoundly interesting."
"You're nowhere near a cyborg," Julia objected.
"Whatever," Tara said dismissively. "So why is it funny I should ask about Bess?"
"She's worried about you," Julia ventured cautiously.
"Why? Oh . . . " She sat down, her knees splayed childishly apart as she fidgeted. "She told you about the other night."
"Yes," Julia admitted, sitting across from her. "She also said . . . " She couldn't imagine the best way to approach such a subject. "She said she saw you and Alonzo together last night during his watch."
"We had the same watch," Tara agreed. "So . . . ?"
"So . . . she said you seemed sort of . . . intimate," Julia continued, blushing furiously. "She was concerned after what you had told her--"
"Great God on a goat!" Tara swore, springing to her feet. "If this isn't the buzzingest little hive of hornets in the universe, I don't know what is!"
"Tara, don't be mad at Bess," Julia pleaded.
"Why the hell not?" Tara demanded, blue eyes flashing. "Doc, listen to me," she said, sinking to her knees in front of her. "You are my only girlfriend, the one person I feel really close to--you're like my sister, for heaven's sake. Even if I had the slightest romantic interest in Alonzo Solace--which I absolutely do not!--I would never be 'intimate' with him, particularly not sitting around the communal campfire."
"Tara, I believe you," Julia promised truthfully. "But I think she just meant you were . . . I don't know, hugging or something."
"What?" Tara asked, seeming mystified. Then suddenly her expression cleared, and she began to laugh. "Of course," she managed. "Oh, Doc, I wish I could tell you how funny this is . . . "
"Why can't you?" Julia asked.
"Because I promised 'Zo I wouldn't," Tara explained, sobering somewhat. "Ask him about it, Julia, please. He really needs to tell you about it himself. We *were* hugging, but I think he ought to be the one to tell you why."

Danziger had piddled around with the details of making camp as long as he reasonably could--he had even installed one of Baines' famous laser security systems around the perimeter. Now or never, big guy, he thought in half-conscious imitation of Tara as he fitted the VR tube into his gear with trembling hands. Taking one last look around to make sure no Grendlers were watching his folly, he fitted the gear on his head and flipped both eyepieces into place . . .
. . . And found himself standing in the tiny station unit he and Elle had shared. He had thought that every detail of this room was permanently engraved on his memory, so he was shocked to see how much he had actually forgotten. The brightly-colored painting of a flower-strewn field on an Earth neither of them had ever seen tacked to the cold gray wall over the bed. The filmy silk scarves draped over the harshly efficient lighting fixtures to create the illusion of softness. The "Ecology Before Economy" sticker pasted to the side of the scratched computer monitor. How did she do it? he thought, afraid to move a muscle for fear the spell might be broken.
Then he caught sight of Elle's nightshirt lying in a heap on the unmade bed, and his paralysis broke. Crossing the room in two strides, he snatched it up and buried his face in the soft synthetic cotton, drowning in the spicy-sweet smell that lingered there. "Elle," he whispered, the tears suddenly overwhelming him.
"What the hell are you doing in there?" a sweetly familiar voice demanded. Looking up, he found Eleanor standing in the doorway of their tiny bathroom wearing nothing but a tattered towel knotted expertly under her arms. "Are we having a breakdown?" she teased, coming over to him.
"Maybe," he admitted, his usual deep voice cracking with emotion.
"Hey . . . " She drew him down beside her on the bed and enfolded him in her arms. "It's okay, baby angel," she soothed, stroking his hair. "What happened?"
Even overwhelmed with grief and loss, he couldn't help but smile at that. Alex had always said that only a mind like Eleanor's could make the leap of imagination necessary to label a guy like Danziger "baby angel." "Nothing happened," he promised, kissing her delicately perfumed shoulder before he looked up. "You're just here, that's all."
"Ah," she replied, caressing his stubbled cheek. "And I haven't been, have I?"
"No," he admitted, remembering what Tara had said about her being "self-aware." "Not for a really long time."
"That is bad," she agreed, climbing into his lap and kissing him deeply, her mouth as sweet and warm as the rest of her. "But I'm here now," she said huskily, meeting his gaze with eyes the same shape and color as her daughter's. "Did you miss me?"
"You can't even imagine how much," he answered, crushing her to him in another kiss more passionate than the first.
"Oh, I can imagine," she teased, nipping at his lower lip with her sharp, white teeth. "As a matter of fact, unless I'm very much mistaken, I can feel it." She lay back on the bed and drew him over her like a favorite blanket. "That is for me, isn't it?"
He ripped the knot that held her towel closed loose and bent to inhale the scent of her skin the way he had breathed in the smell of her nightshirt. "Oh yeah," he growled, forgetting the entire concept of VR in his growing want. "Definitely for you."
End of Part 6.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 7
by Jayel

Writer's Note: Have y'all noticed, this thing keeps getting longer and longer? I think we're in the home stretch--how does two, maybe three more installments sound? Also, there's some fairly explicit stuff in this section, too (turkey and dressing has the strangest effect on some people . . . ), so be warned. Again, if you don't want that, just write me, and I'll be happy to send you an edited version.--Jayel

Devon watched the sun sink behind the horizon with a cold, numb fear that felt like the beginning stages of full-blown panic. She was being childish, she knew. John had said he would be gone "a couple of days," and this was only the second sunset she had watched without him. But couldn't he understand how afraid she was? Didn't he realize how often the fates hadtried to snatch the very thing she so desperately wanted out of her reach just at the moment it seemed her fingers had grasped it? Her precious son, taken from her arms at the moment of his birth by Syndrome. The hardwon clearance to escape the stations withdrawn hours before departure. Her own newly-discovered strength sapped to save the people and planet she had come to cherish. Now . . . John had kissed her--for at least that moment, he had shown her that he felt just exactly as she wanted--no, needed for him to feel. Then he had gone. And the longer he stayed away, the more insistent the unreasonable voice in her heart became, the voice that warned he would never come back on his own.
Yale came and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she turned to him with all her fear shining wildly in her eyes. "Yale, I'm going after him," she insisted. "He should have been back by now--"
"Should he?" Yale asked gently. "But I thought you said he would be gone for two days? It won't be two days until tomorrow afternoon."
"I realize that, Yale, but . . . " She looked around frantically, fighting off the tears she had become heartily sick of shedding. "Yale, what if he doesn't come back?"
"Whatever makes you think Danziger wouldn't come back?" Yale asked, genuinely mystified. He put his arms around her, and she clung to him as tightly and fearfully as the child who once had come to him with tales of monsters lurking under her bed. "His daughter is here," he soothed, patting her back. "And you, Devon . . . " He pushed her away a little so he could see her face. "*You* are here," he told her urgently.
"I know," she agreed, wiping her eyes. "But there's something else, and I don't know . . . Something he needs is out there, Yale, and I don't know what it is or how to fight it, and I just feel like it's taking him away from me--from all of us, even True."
"Don't you think perhaps your own feelings have clouded your judgment somewhat?" Yale suggested. "True hardly seems worried."
"No," she agreed with a fragile smile. "She doesn't, does she?"
"Why don't you give Danziger a little more time?" Yale advised. "If we hear nothing from him tomorrow, I will organize a search party myself." He pulled her close again and gave her a squeeze. "What could possibly be out there to keep him away?"
"I don't know," Devon admitted, taking comfort as always in the tender strength of this somehow-more-than-a-father. "But he's looking for something, Yale. And it isn't mountains."

The moons were high in the sky, and the night was so still Cameron and Alonzo were actually whispering to one another on watch and still they could be heard at the tents. Tara got up from her knees and kissed the crucifix before returning it to its safely cushioned compartment in her pack. Then she removed her three-item selection of Val's old shirts, choosing the one which seemed to retain the most of his smell before slipping out of her clothes and donning it. She was just about to turn off the light when someone knocked lightly outside. "Come in," she called.
True slipped inside, carrying a bedroll. "Can I sleep in here?" she asked without preamble.
"Sure, if you want to," Tara answered. "But aren't you staying with Devon and Uly until your dad gets back?"
"I told her I'd rather stay with you," True explained, spreading her bed close to Tara's.
"And she said?" Tara pressed, climbing into bed.
"She was unthrilled, but I don't care," True said, yanking off her boots and slipping under the covers. "She's not my mom, no matter how many times Dad kisses her."
"Your dad kissed Devon?" Tara said, turning out the light.
"So Uly says," True answered.
"Well, I wouln't think Uly would be any happier to see it than you are to hear about it," Tara said. "You've both been ruler of the roost way too long to take kindly to competition."
"What's that supposed to mean?" True demanded.
"Not much," Tara retorted. "Just that you might ought to start getting used to the idea that there are going to be things going on with your daddy that have nothing to do with you. That VR program, just for instance. And now Devon." She rolled over, pointedly turning her back on the child. "He was a man before he was your dad, you know."
True didn't answer for a long time. "Hey, Tara?" she said at last.
"Yeah?" Tara answered, her voice non-committal in the dark.
"You really like my dad, don't you?"
Now it was Tara's turn to be silent. "Yeah, I do," she admitted at last. "But that doesn't mean he likes me, which he doesn't . . . " She rolled back over, and True could see her blue eyes shining even in the dark. "Look, True, you're a big girl," she said. "Big enough to understand what I tell you and keep it to yourself, right?"
"Of course," True answered, flattered and a little scared to hear something like this from a grown-up.
"I'm not ready to love anybody but Val yet, and maybe I never really will be," Tara explained slowly. "But sometimes, for reasons you really are too young to hear about, I can't help but think about what it would be like to love your dad. And I think he feels exactly the same way--about your mama and Devon. He still loves your mom, but it's Devon that's keeping him up nights."
"You don't know that," True protested.
"Not for sure, no," Tara admitted. "But I strongly suspect you and I had better both start getting used to the idea."

"Good lord, Danziger," Elle complained, examining a series of fingerprint-sized bruises on her inner thigh. "If this is what you do when you're glad to see me, I'd hate to think what I'd look like if you decided to beat me up."
"Poor baby," he soothed, reaching for her again. "Saddled to a brute . . . " He kissed her stomach, his tongue flickering briefly into her navel before he moved on to press his lips to the offending marks.
"Ummm . . . interesting choice of metaphor," she laughed breathily, running her fingers through his hair. "Wait a second . . . hey, wait." She gave his hair a painful tug. "Look at me," she ordered.
"I thought I was," he said, nuzzling her leg.
"Look at my *face*," she clarified with a giggle. "Come on, baby angel, I'm serious." She touched his cheek. "We have to talk, kiddo," she said. "Before one of us turns into a pumpkin."
He didn't want to hear what she meant, and he was fairly certain that, with the proper persuasion, she could be convinced to forget it. But he also knew she was right. "I know," he admitted, sitting up and drawing her into his lap. How could he have forgotten how warm the was, the softness of her skin, the way she felt like liquid fire in his arms?
"You look really different," she remarked, running her hand over his face as if testing the roughness of his beard. "Healthier, I guess. This new place you're in--do you like it?"
"You remember that?" he asked.
"I do now," she explained. "The longer we're together, the more I can remember of what you've told me." She kissed his mouth. "So answer the question."
"Yeah, I like it here, when we aren't up to our necks in disaster," he said, cuddling her close. "It's better for True--do you remember about True?"
"Oh yeah," she replied, her face against his chest, hidden by the veil of her hair. "The competition . . . "
"No," he said gently. "Our daughter."
"Your daughter," she retorted hoarsely. "I never saw her . . . I never even knew I was going to have her."
"Really?" he asked, brushing her hair away. "I've always wondered about that . . . "
"I never had a clue," she laughed in spite of the tears he could see in her eyes. "Isn't that stupid? I thought we were just working too hard."
She seemed so real . . . how could this woman, this warm, living spirit, be an illusion? "Elle, do you remember the accident?" he asked.
"You mean do I remember dying?" she retorted bluntly. "Not really. I remember my mask going out, and being scared." She snuggled closer as if afraid he might disappear. "And I remember your holding on to me, telling me to hold on. But I don't remember any pain or actually . . . ceasing to be." She grinned. "I think some things are still beyond technological reproduction."
"Thank God," he murmured.
"Exactly," she continued. "John, you've got to remember . . . I don't want you to--this isn't real, okay?" She drew away from him, wrapping the sheet around her, a familiar trick for when she wanted his undivided attention for what she said rather than how she looked. "I wish it was real, more than anything," she continued, holding his hand in both of hers. "But that's because I don't know any better--this is all I know."
"What are you talking about?" he demanded, trying to pull her close again.
"The stations," she said, keeping him at arm's length. "Me and you. A world where there's no planet. No True. No Devon Adair." She was crying now, and his own heart felt like it might shatter at any moment. "That's my world, John. In the new world, I'm dead and gone, and no amount of wishing and wanting and telling me things is going to bring me back. I can't ..." Her voice broke, and he tried to embrace her again, but she held up her hand, warding him off. "I can't be part of your reality any more, John," she finished, looking up into his eyes. "So you've got to let me go."
"What if I can't?" he asked.
"You already have, baby angel," she said tenderly. "Isn't that why you're here?" She reached down and handed him his clothes. "You belong to somebody else."
He wanted to tell her she was crazy, to convince her with kisses and protestations of undying love until the decision was made and it was too late to turn back. But he knew he couldn't--couldn't convince her, couldn't forget True. Couldn't pretend Devon was no more than a troubling dream.
He dressed, although he doubted it was necessary--he suspected his material self was still sitting, fully clothed, beside a long-dead fire. Eleanor wouldn't look at him, and again, this was familiar. Whenever he had been forced to leave her for a job, she had done this, burying her head under the covers and pretending not to cry until he was gone.
He noticed a set of VR gear lying on the computer which had almost certainly not been there a moment before, and he reached for it, forcing himself not to look back.
Suddenly he was caught from behind. "John, no," Elle sobbed, and he turned and found himself captured in her sweet embrace. "Please don't leave me," she begged, clinging to him with all her strength. "I thought I could stand it, but I can't--"
"Shhh, baby girl," he soothed, gathering her up off her feet and holding her close. "I'm not going anyplace."

True stirred uneasily in her sleep, and Tara reached out and touched her cheek. "It's all right, True-girl," she whispered, lovingly stroking the little girl's hair in the dark. "Daddy'll be home soon."
End of Part 7.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 8
by Jayel

Writer's Note: Just a brief disclaimer--if G889 can have spiders, it can have pigs.--Jayel

And then, on top of everything else, Wolman and Morgan managed to kill a pig.
"It was an accident," Morgan insisted, standing with Wolman and the carcass of a fair-sized boar at the center of a circle of Eden Advancers in the middle of camp.
"An accident?" Devon said doubtfully, averting her eyes from the bloody mess.
"He came charging out of the trees at us," Morgan explained. "We were looking for deadwood in that little grove of saplings, and all of a sudden we heard this hideous snarling and stomping--"
"And you thought Danz was back," Baines joked.
"Not funny, Baines," Devon snapped, glowering at Alonzo, who had snickered in spite of himself.
"We thought we were about to be killed," Morgan insisted.
"He's right," Wolman agreed. "It was coming straight for us, full speed."
"And you thought that innocent animal was going to kill you?" Magus asked doubtfully.
"Innocent?" Morgan echoed. "Excuse me, have you seen the tusks on that thing?"
"Oh, please," Devon began.
"No, he's right," Julia interrupted. "It could definitely have done some damage, Devon. Wild boars back on earth were considered among the most dangerous of game animals--they were known to have ripped full-grown adults to shreds if not killed instantly." She glanced at the carcass. "Not that I condone killing this one."
"So you'd rather me or Morgan be the one lying here in a bloody heap?" Wolman asked.
"Of course not," Julia began, and soon a cacophony of varying opinions was raging around and across the circle like wildfire.
"What's all the hubbub?" Tara demanded, coming out of the bathing shelter with her hair wrapped in a towel and her ever-present VR gear dangling from one hand. "Hey, who killed the pig?"
"Morgan and Wolman," Baines explained. "They found it in those woods--or rather, it found them."
"Well, somebody better start cleaning and cooking soon," Tara advised, wrinkling her dainty little nose. "'Cause Brer Boar is commencing to smell."
"What, you mean we should eat it?" Alonzo asked her with a grin.
"What else?" she replied.
"I don't think we're ready to start feeding on the indigenous life on this planet," Devon said firmly.
"Well, I don't know why not," Wolman retorted. "The thing's dead, Dev, and no amount of feeling sorry's going to bring it back. We may as well get what good we can from it."
"It was alive until you and Morgan killed it," Devon shot back angrily. "By your logic, every time something or someone dies on this planet, we should make a meal of it--"
"Oh for pity's sake!" Tara exploded. "Devon, this is a *pig*! Not a person, not a Terrian, not even a Grendler! A dumb, dead, and potentially delicious pig!" She looked around at the rest of the group as if daring someone to dispute her, but no one said a word--Alonzo was actually snickering again, although Julia had stomped down hard on his foot to make him stop. "You know, Devon, sometimes I wonder how someone as sensitive as you managed to live on the stations, much less here," Tara went on, making Devon flush scarlet. "But then someone else always took care of the killing and the cooking back there, didn't they?"
Devon seemed at a loss as to how to reply to this. "Do any of you know how to butcher and cook a pig?" she said at last, looking past Tara like she wasn't there.
"I do," Julia said quickly, stepping between her two friends. "And if I don't have the stomach for it, I'm sure Alonzo and Wolman will help me."
Alonzo and Wolman hurriedly agreed, and the group slowly broke up, the more curious lagging behind to see if Devon and Tara would take up arms against each other. But Tara abandoned the field first, disappearing into her tent with True close behind.
"Not everyone here is a vegetarian, Devon," Julia suggested gently as Wolman and Alonzo began the process of cleaning and dressing the carcass.
"Of course not," Devon answered, hurriedly turning her back on this procedure. "I had just hoped that now that we were here, starting from scratch, we could avoid . . . " She glanced in the direction of Tara's tent and the color returned to her cheeks. "Her parents were Council members, for heaven's sake!" she protested angrily. "How much more privileged could a childhood be than that?"
"That's very true," Julia agreed, trying to remain neutral. In truth, her loyalties were fairly evenly divided. She thought Tara was probably right about the pig, but she considered her unprovoked attack on Devon unforgiveable. And unexplicable, for that matter. "You two just got off on the wrong foot back at the EVE ship," she ventured, unconsciously continuing her inward musings aloud.
"But I barely even remember that!" Devon insisted. "I know she's been ill and unhappy, and I've tried to reach out to her--"
"Some people just can't be reached," Julia said. "What I mean is . . . sometimes you have to let people come to you when they're ready. And Tara, apparently, isn't ready yet."
"Not for me, anyway," Devon agreed. "Let the men do the lifting, all right? The last thing we need is you making yourself sick over this silly pig."
"I promise," Julia smiled, crossing her heart. She supervised the butchering, then she and Alonzo left the barbecuing to Wolman's professed expertise.
"Well, that was fun," Alonzo joked weakly, washing the blood from his hands. "I've eaten my fair share of meat, but I've never been that close to the opening ceremonies before."
"I don't think I'll be eating any of this," Julia agreed, stripping out of her dirty outer clothing and helping him off with his shirt. "Although, surprisingly, I don't really feel sick."
"That's great, Doc," he said, giving her a hug which held the tantalizing promise of better things to come in its warmth. "So what's the deal with Tara and Devon?"
"Search me," Julia replied.
"You mean you don't know?" he asked.
"No," she said, tracing his clean-shaven jaw with one fingertip. "I said search me."
"Ohhh," he said, his snappy retort cut off with a tenderly passionate kiss. "Was this what Morgan was talking about?" he teased.
"Maybe," she replied with a grin, catching his lower lip briefly between her teeth. "Are you up to it?"
He bent and swept her literally off her feet. "I think I feel a second wind coming on," he growled, lowering her to the cot.

True had been playing with one of Tara's VR programs, but she quickly lost interest--as annoying as he could be, Uly did make such games a lot more fun, and he was busy with Yale. "I'll be glad when Uly's school is over," she remarked to Tara, who was apparently adding to her computer journal.
"Shouldn't you be in school with him?" Tara answered, her fingers still typing busily.
"I didn't feel like it," True answered, resisting the urge to ask her what she was writing. "Am I bothering you?"
"No, of course not," Tara answered, looking up long enough to flash her a smile.
"Good," True said, smiling back. "Do you think Dad's on his way back?"
"Very likely," Tara said, rubbing her forehead like it suddenly hurt her. "He told me he thought he'd be back today." She clenched both her fists and pressed them hard against her temples, her eyes tightly shut.
"Tara, are you okay?" True asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, honeybunch," Tara answered, but her voice sounded anything but. "It's just that smell's giving me a killer headache."
"What smell?" True asked, sniffing the air. "You mean Wolman's pig? I think it smells pretty good."
"Spoken like a true meat-eater," Tara said, managing a grin. "Hand me that sedaderm, will you, honey?" True brought it to her quickly, alarmed at the woman's sudden pallor--she looked like she was about to fall over dead. "I'm just going to catch a nap and see if that helps--"
"I'm going to get Julia," True decided.
"Don't you dare!" Tara ordered, her tone firm in spite of her smile. "I'll be okay when I wake up, kiddo, I promise." She went over to her bedroll and lifted the sedaderm to her neck. "Why don't you take that program and see if you can convince Ulysses to play hookey," she suggested.
"Okay," True agreed hesitantly, not entirely convinced. "But I'll be back later--"
"Great, honey," Tara cut her off. "I'll see you then."
End of Part 8.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 9
by Jayel

Tara was still sleeping--she had to be. This had to be a dream. She was burning again--she could feel her skin crackling into crisply blackened shreds; her blood was boiling in her veins; her hair was crumbling into white-hot ash. Worst of all was the smell, the sickly-sweet aroma of her own roasting flesh that she couldn't escape. She used her special awareness to fight the drug that was trapping her in this inferno, but she couldn't reach it, couldn't even find the circuits that controlled her consciousness in the midst of this stinking heat. She screamed, her burning throat a raw gash of purest agony, but she knew no sound could reach outside the prison of her dream.
Suddenly a blissfully cool hand calmped down hard on her wrist. Whirling around in the fire, she found herself facing a Terrian who held her in an icy grip of iron. He chortled to her in his Terrian tongue, a sound which should have been unintelligible but which seemed to dissolve her panic into calm. Clinging to the Terrian's arm, she found she could push the dream and its pain away, as if it were a VR program she were scanning from the outside. "Thank you," she murmured, forcing herself to wake.

Julia felt like the laziest human who ever lived, but she didn't care. By all rights, she should have been using this unexpected break from travel to catch up on her journals and fabricate fresh supplies. But she just couldn't seem to make herself leave the cozy comfort of Alonzo's arms, even to accomplish these worthy goals. "I love you, fly-boy," she remarked conversationally, lacing her fingers with his.
"I love you, Doc," he answered sleepily, planting a tender kiss on her temple.
She nestled closer against his shoulder. "By the way," she murmured. "What were you and Tara discussing the other night?"
Alonzo reached back from the very brink of sleep to catch the tail end of this. "What?"
"Bess said you and Tara had a very earnest discussion on watch the other night," Julia elaborated. "I asked Tara about it, and she suggested I ask you."
"Oh," Alonzo replied, remembering and waking up simultaneously. "I had asked her advice about something," he explained.
"What?" Julia asked curiously.
"About you, actually," he said, sitting up. "I told her I had been trying to think of a way to--"
"Alonzo, Julia, come quick!" Uly shrieked, bursting into the tent. "Tara's gone crazy!"

Julia had somewhat further to go in the dressing process, so Alonzo managed to beat her outside. And Uly seemed to be quite right--Tara Donahoe had apparently lost her mind. The spit holding the nearly-roasted carcass of the pig was lying broken in the dust, and she had piled the entire auxiliary woodpile onto the abandoned fire to create an orange blaze whose tongues seemed to lick the sky. As Alonzo came out of the medtent, she was throwing a seemingly random collection of her possessions into the center of the dancing flames--a hairbrush, books, a backpack, several articles of clothing. As he and the rest of the Eden Project looked on in stunned disbelief, she even tore out of the shirt and pants she was wearing and added them to the blazing pile. Still half-asleep, Alonzo had the peculiarly masculine thought that she would have been quite fetching if she hadn't looked utterly insane.
"Die, damn it!" she screamed at the blaze, all but dancing in her wrath. "Why can't you just die!"
"Alonzo, what is she doing?" Julia demanded, running out to join him.
"Burning all of her stuff is what it looks like," he replied, thinking "losing her shit" might have been a more apt description.
"No," Bess said, a sudden light dawning in her eyes. "Burning all of Val's stuff--she's trying to put an end to Val."
"Bess, what are you talking--Bess, wait!" Morgan called as Bess ventured closer to the madwoman and her fire than anyone else had dared.
"Tara, it's okay," Bess said, moving closer still. "Let me help you." She bent down and picked up a boot that had been dropped in a mad dash from tent to fire and dropped it onto the blaze. "I understand," she promised.
"Thanks, Bess," Tara managed, obviously struggling to regain some semblance of control. Then suddenly all the mad energy she had gathered seemed to leave her in a rush, and she fell to her knees, her hands splayed before her perilous inches from the flames. "Sweet Jesus, just let me go," she wept, reaching toward the heat.
"Bess, don't let her do it!" Uly screamed, his eyes huge with terror. "Mom, we have to stop her--"
"Shhh, Uly, it's all right," Devon soothed, picking him up to carry him inside, away from this little horror show. "Tara's going to be just fine--" She broke off, realizing the girl on the ground was staring straight at her, her blue eyes seeming to pierce Devon's very soul.
Suddenly Tara sprang to her feet and lunged straight for the flames, and Uly and True both screamed like frightened banshees. Only a lightning-fast full body tackle from Wolman prevented her from doing exactly as Uly had feared.
"Julia, for God's sake, knock her out," Wolman yelled, struggling to hold Tara still as she fought him like a tiger.
"No!" Tara screamed, clawing at his face even as Julia gave her the shot. "Let me--" And then she went limp beneath him.
"Bring her into the medtent," Julia said shakily, climbing to her feet with Alonzo's help. "And somebody bury that dead pig, okay?"

Devon had let Yale take Uly from her arms as soon as Tara was safely stowed away in the medtent. But she couldn't seem to walk away from the fire. As the sun sank into the promised land of the west, she watched as the tangible remains of this man she had never met burned away to dust. Even when she closed her own eyes, she could still see the terrible hurt in Tara's at the moment she decided to immolate herself in flame like another of her dead husband's abandoned possessions. Julia had said she should wait and allow Tara to reach out to her, but this was too much. Why had this girl who seemed to despise her so nevertheless chosen her to share her pain?
"Where is everybody?" Danziger asked, seeming to simply materialize behind her. "And what the hell are we burning?"
"John!" She threw herself into his arms, weeping with a crazy mixture of grief and joy, aching and relief. "I'm so glad you're back," was all she could manage by way of explanation for the moment, and he seemed to accept it, holding her close and letting her cry.
And even after she stopped crying, he kept her safe in his arms while she explained what she knew of what had happened. "I guess she felt like this was a way to create some kind of closure," Devon finished.
"It makes sense," he agreed, kissing her temple. "Where's True?" he asked, squeezing her tighter for a moment before letting her go.
"She's in the medtent, I think, with Tara," Devon said. "They seem to have become thick as thieves while you were away."
"Terrific," he said with a snort of ironic laughter. "Come on, let's go tell her I'm back and make sure she's okay."
They had started toward the medtent hand-in-hand when Danziger suddenly stopped. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small platinum tube. "Be right back," he said gruffly. He went back to Tara's dying pyre and dropped the tube into its still-glowing center. It burst almost immediately into a tiny explosion of blue-white light, then disappeared entirely. "Let's go," he said, lifting Devon's hand to his lips before leading her on to the medtent.
End of Part 9--One more part to go.

Escaping the Pyre, Part 10
by Jayel

Writer's Note: See, it is possible to write even from atop a high horse! Here's the rest of it, guys, and ooooh, is it mushy at the end. Hope you can stand it--Jayel

Julia checked the restraints on Tara's wrists and ankles one more time. She could remember only too well how it felt to awaken in such a position, and she wanted to be certain blood flow to the extremities was unimpeded and the joints were not being pinched. By the same token she wanted to be equally certain Tara would be unable to hurt herself should she awaken wanting to try. She studied the data flowing across the vital signs monitor for any abnormalities but found none--if Tara was having a nightmare, neither her heart nor her brain was aware of it.
"How's she doing?" Danziger said softly, coming in. He and Devon had come to collect True an hour or so ago, but this time he was alone.
"She seems fine," Julia answered. "As a matter of fact, she should be waking up any minute now."
He came and looked down at the girl on the bed. "She looks peaceful," he said. "Any idea why she'd try something like that?"
"Not really," Julia admitted. "I knew she was still upset, but--here we go . . . "
Tara's eyelids fluttered once then opened. "Hi," she whispered, smiling up at John like it was perfectly usual for her to wake up strapped to a bed. "How was your trip?"
"Very enlightening," he answered, smiling back. "I wanted to say thanks."
"You're welcome," she answered. "Where is she now?"
He glanced at Julia. "I destroyed the program after I got back," he said. "Dropped it on that bonfire of yours, actually."
"Ha!" Tara laughed. "Perfect . . . " She tilted her head to one side and examined his face. "That's good, big guy," she said at last. "You did the right thing."
"Yeah, well, you didn't," he retorted, giving her arm a pat. "You scared my kid half to death."
"Sorry about that," she replied.
"Don't be sorry; be better," he ordered. "See you later, all right?"
She smiled at him again, and Julia felt a light go on in her head. "Sure," she answered.
"It's him, isn't it?" Julia said when Danziger had gone. "The person you told Bess about--it's Danziger."
"It doesn't matter," Tara said, sounding tired but perfectly sane. "But yeah . . ."
"You know, kiddo . . . his dance card is kind of full already," Julia ventured, loosening the restraints but keeping a sedaderm handy.
"Nobody knows that better than I do," Tara assured her, sitting up gingerly. "And right this minute, I don't seem to much care." She reached down and touched her friend's stomach. "Did Valentine come through the crisis all right?"
"Flying colors," Julia promised, patting her hand. "The one I'm worried about is you."
"Don't be," Tara said. "I feel a little better, actually." She looked down at the bandages Julia had put on her burned hands. "Although I guess this means I don't get to drive the transrover for a while, huh?" she joked.
"I wouldn't think so, no," Julia admitted, first resisting then submitting to the urge to brush Tara's still-damp curls back from her forehead. "Tara, please," she began, at a loss. Devon was the nurturant one--how many times had Alonzo given her grief about her lack of bedside manner? The only woman she'd ever met with fewer natural "people skills" was the one she was currently hoping to reach. "I can't just pretend you're okay and nothing really happened," she continued, opting for the unvarnished truth. "You have to tell me why you did that. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong--"
"You can't help me anyway," Tara said, looking up with childlike candor. "As for why . . . I don't know if I can make you understand." She rubbed her knuckles absently over the other palm, as if it itched under the bandage. "I've never really felt real, Doc," she confessed. "First Reilly, then my so-called parents--I was the sum of my useful talents, not a person."
"You think I can't understand that?" Julia asked. "Tara, you just described my whole life before I came here."
"Then you can imagine how everything changed for me when I met Val," Tara went on. "He gave me everything--a name, a family, a soul-- everything I've been for more than fifty years came from him, right down to the way I talk. When I lost him, I started losing me, and it's been downhill ever since."
"But anyone who's ever lost someone they loved has felt that way," Julia protested gently.
"But for them, the dissolving of their identity is an illusion," Tara pointed out. "At some point, it stops, because they've finally been stripped down to being the person they were before--I was nobody before!" She snatched irritably at Julia's precisely wrapped bandages until her hands were free, revealing the haunting pools of light that had appeared there. "Just that," she said bitterly, showing them to Julia. "That's me . . . and I couldn't face that again. I can't face it--"
"Tara, listen to me," Julia ordered. "Of course there's more to you than Reilly's trick or what you were for Val--what about your feelings for John?"
"I fixed his VR program--I spent hours using my brain to pump life back into his dead wife or girlfriend or love slave or whatever the hell she was," Tara answered. "Maybe some of her feelings rubbed off on me, who knows? And maybe the love I feel for his little girl is just an extension of that--and maybe the closeness I feel to you is because of my and Val's friendship with Alonzo." She clenched her fists tightly until the light disappeared. "The only feeling I have that I know belongs to me is not something that's going to make you like me," she said softly.
"What are you talking about?" Julia asked.
"The way I feel about Devon Adair," she answered bluntly, looking at Julia with eyes like a violet winter sky. "I'm sorry, Doc, I know she's your friend, and that's why I'd never do anything overtly to hurt her, even if I could. But I hate her shanking guts."
Julia felt her own insides turn cold. "Why?" she asked. "I don't understand--"
"Because she's the one who did this," Tara explained, her voice reasonable but her eyes wild. "She's the one who made the promises that I've had to keep. She's the one who sentenced Val to die. She bit off more than she could chew, and it's been up to me to swallow it."
"Tara, I swear, Devon could never have done anything intentionally to hurt you or Val--"
"Intentionally, no," Tara agreed. "But she did it, just the same.And maybe it's dear old dad coming out in me, but I promise you I'm not ever going to forget it."

Julia had given Tara another sedative to make her sleep--not so much for Tara's peace of mind, but for her own. When Alonzo came in, she was sitting across the medtent from Tara's bed, watching her sleep.
"I thought Danziger said she woke up," Alonzo said, dropping down beside her.
"She did," Julia answered. "And then I put her back to sleep." She reached for him, her face as open and vulnerable as a child's.
"Hey, come here," he soothed, holding her close. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Julia insisted, clinging just the same. "Nothing I want to talk about--she's okay, or she will be, I guess. Physically, she's fine."
"That's a straightforward diagnosis," Alonzo joked. "Hey, it's okay, we don't have to talk about it." He drew back and smiled at her. "There's something else I've been trying like hell to say to you lately anyway."
"We have been getting interrupted a lot lately," she admitted. "So what is it, fly-boy?"
He grinned. "You have no idea how much I love it when you call me that," he admitted.
"Oh yeah?" she retorted. "Gee, I thought you hated it--that's why I do it. Quit stalling."
"Okay, okay!" He took her hand and held it between his. "You know how I feel about you, because I tell you all the time, whether you want me to or not . . . and I think you know there's no way I could ever leave you."
"I had hoped," she said softly. "But I know how much you love to fly--"
"I do, but not as much as I love you," he interrupted. "So what I was wondering is . . . would you marry me?"
"Oh Alonzo . . ." She had occasionally allowed herself to imagine this in her weaker, more sentimental moments, but the more practical side of her nature had always insisted that not only would he never ask, he didn't need to ask, that what they had didn't need a contract. And suddenly she found herself thinking of Tara--if Alonzo were lost, would she want to burn herself alive? Would everything she had learned about herself since she fell in love with him be lost as well? No, she didn't think so . . . Loving Alonzo had made her a better person; she was sure of that. But that person would go on.
"I love you, too," she began, touching his cheek. "And I want to be with you always--"
"Then just say yes, Doc," he said playfully, but she could see real fear in his eyes. "It's easy--one syllable--"
"Yes," she interrupted with a smile, abandoning practicality and reason and everything she had been so carefully taught just to banish that fear forever. "Yes, I will marry you, fly-boy."
He swept her up and kissed her breathless, both of them laughing as their lips met. "You'll never regret that yes," he said softly. "I may not be much, but at least I can promise you that."
"You're going to promise me a lot more than that," she retorted. "You're promising me forever."
-The End-

This text file was ran through PERL script made by Andy. Original text file is available in Andy's Earth 2 Fan Fiction Archive.