The Corporal snapped a salute, turned, and marched from the office. Alone, Bruce considered the news. The Shades, until now, had been a minor thorn in the flesh. What were they up to, taking the stela? Did they know its importance? Were they working with the Enmen? He turned to his desk monitor and studied the Base Seal. One man took out three elite. Bruce nodded; yes, he knew the man.

Bruce tapped a pad on his console and a crisp voice answered. “Yes, General Bruce.”

Bruce said, “Captain, I want a track on one Rudakh Yavle, a soldier recently released.”

“Sir,” answered the Captain's voice. “I'll get right on it.”

Bruce tapped off and swiveled his seat to the back wall. He laced his fingers behind his head. That such a hero would join forces with the Shades was quite the mystery.

Besh stood over his assigned bunk, removing his Arm Blade. He took his time as he considered the evening's events. The Consortium's elite were used sparingly. They were brought out for only the highest-level ops. The fact that the Consortium wanted the stela immediately raised the significance of the artifact. Besh could only think that the stela had military importance, but the one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't know.

Besh dropped the Blade on the bunk and stripped down to his trousers. Marq walked into his room, eyes bright with lingering excitement. He said, “Chow is served. Ume sent me to get you.”

Besh smiled and said, “Someone looks stoked. Did you have fun?”

Marq danced in a circle, arms waving in animated gestures of fighting prowess. He answered in a happy voice, “Front and center, man.”

Besh could hear the happy cacophony before he entered the room. Excitement ran amok in various expressions of Marq's post-op dance. The cheer was loud. Besh stopped at the door to look and listen. As Audra and Plume served from a rolling tray, each member of the Shades vied for ears attentive to their story, seeking both praise and shared joy.

Marq was sitting beside Donnelly, and each of them was talking at the same time. Besh looked at the head of the table and saw Ume happily retelling events to Elin and Brea.

“I never saw a man move so fast,” said Ume. “He took out the first one in a single bound, then slid across the floor and took out the second. I was holding my night eyes to one eye until the third man put a knife to my throat. I had only time to swallow my heart when Besh stood and shot him. We raced to the skid and Besh flew; I'm glad he did. We were followed. My only thought was to run, but my brave hero turned and flew right into the pursuer. Just like that, he knocked him from the sky.” Elin and Brea drew an excited breath, and Ume looked toward the door, spotting Besh. “Here he is,” Ume hailed, rising. “Come. Sit beside me.”

Besh took a seat between Ume and Mack taking a pleasant demeanor to mask his fatigue. Ume pulled him into the chair beside her, seeming elated, and said, “Tonight, our runners have brought our best.”

As Ume sat close, Audra set a plate in front of Besh. The steak was thick, with a thin red juice pooling around mashed potatoes. A roll sat beside buttered asparagus, and Audra pressed through the gap to place a glass of wine before him.

He turned to Ume with a winning smile, and could only say, “Wow!”

Ume soaked up his praise like a young desert flower on a rainy day. “Right,” she said. “Eat up. It's well-deserved.” The table cheered and glasses were raised to toast victory.

Besh turned to Mack, who studied the stela between bites of asparagus. He asked, “You got it figured out?”

Mack turned briefly into his attention, then back to the stela. She answered thoughtfully, “I have a program or two. First order of business is translation. I'll get back to you.”

Fighting fatigue, Besh smiled patiently, joined in the camaraderie, and shared the joy. However, he became increasingly light-headed, and his focus drifted. All the gay laughter became a noise that echoed in his head. Words ran into words without clear distinction. He took a deep breath and blinked the sleepiness away. A little longer, he told himself. A little longer, and he would sleep.

“Isn't that so?” he heard Ume ask.

He turned to her; she sat close beside him and spoke, but he missed it. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“You can see in the dark,” said Ume brightly. The room became quiet awaiting his answer.

“Sort of,” answered Besh.

“Are you not hungry?” asked Ume. “You've hardly touched your food.”

He missed that too. “Sorry,” said Besh. “I don't feel well. I should go to my room.”

Ume turned in her seat, concern on her face. She placed a hand on his forehead and felt his face. “You feel warm,” she pronounced. “are you sick?”

“I don't know,” said Besh and paused before he finished, “what's come over me.”

Marq sat straight. He said to Ume, “He got this way once before. It happens when he pushes himself too far. I expected it when he saved me on the docks; he ran all the way from the south dock to the north dock to find me. He was exhausted.”

“Help me,” said Ume to Marq. Marq rose immediately. Ume turned and called, “Tory. Please help me get him to his bed.”

Besh was already slumped in his chair. The Shades looked on in silent concern. Ume and Mack moved aside to allow Marq and Tory room to lift him. They placed his arms around their shoulders and held his wrists while Ume moved his chair. The head dangled, the feet scuffed the floor as Besh was walked from the room. The Shades whispered among themselves with alarm and speculation.

Ume turned in the door as she followed Marq and Tory. She spoke to open faces and gaping mouths. “Please. Please,” she said. “Finish your meal. Don't let this spoil the mood. You deserve this meal. Really.”

Audra asked, “Is he sick?”

Ume answered, “As soon as I know something, I'll send word. Until then, enjoy your meal. You worked hard for it. Thank you so much.”

Ume turned and ran after Tory and Marq. She followed close behind as the two dragged Besh along the hall. She touched Marq for attention and asked, “Is this serious? Do we need special medicines? A Doctor?”

Marq said casually, “He gets a fever. Last time, I kept a cold rag on his forehead. When he woke up, he was fine.”

Consciousness dawned slowly. At first, it was a dull awareness. It was that brief moment before you lick away the dryness in your mouth. Then came the physical sensation of his body. He was prone and could feel the blood flow through his left arm in a pinched cadence. He was in his cot, against the wall, and except for his left arm being asleep, all was well.

Besh opened his eyes to the ceiling; it was early. In the dim light of his room, other sensations registered. There was something on his forehead. There was a warm presence beside him, and he could hear breathing other than his own. Something weighed on his right arm. He moved his left arm with difficulty, reaching up to pull a rag from his forehead. He dropped his arm, allowing the pins and needles to rage.

Then, he looked beside himself. Ume's head rested on his right arm; she lay curled against his body, breathing softly. Besh allowed it; he lowered his head, and let himself know the feeling of a warm body next to his. It was something he had not felt in four years. He closed his eyes and pictured Heaven's face. Heaven was dead, and Ume was in bed with him.

Why was Ume in bed with him? The wine was not that strong. He sought the memory of the evening meal with grasping difficulty. What happened? Try as he might, he could not remember. Eyes open, Besh put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

Ume snorted in surprise and bolted to a sitting position. She rubbed her eyes as Besh sat up beside her. He pulled his shirt from the foot of the bed and slipped it on.

Besh asked softly, “Why are we in bed together?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “It's not what you think.”

Besh replied, “You're fully dressed. I'm not thinking anything. I,” and there he paused before saying, “Can't remember what happened.”

Ume turned to look past sleepy eyelids. “You had a fever. You passed out. Marq said I should keep a cold rag on your forehead. I must have fallen asleep.” Ume stretched where she sat, clasped hands between her legs, and failed to stifle a yawn. “Do you feel better?”

As he buttoned his shirt, Besh asked, “Did I have nightmares?”

“No,” said Ume.

“Did I talk in my sleep?” Besh asked.

“No,” said Ume. “Do you have something to hide?”

“No,” answered Besh. “Did you sit up all night with me?”

“Of course not,” answered Ume. “I fell asleep. You're like this big warm pillow.”

“I'm beholden,” said Besh.

Ume looked into his eyes. She said with a smile in her eyes, “I should clean up.”