On Knife's Edge

Andy came up with a really great character and thanks go to him for sharing him. Thanks Andy!--Maer

Friday, 20 Jun 2521
Kuiper II class, Summer’s Gift
En route to Highgate
1135 hrs, ship’s time

We were five days out from Highgate when I'd finished early for the day and having nothing pressing left to do, I puttered in my shop with a project I'd back-burnered since Angel. On no account did I want to hole up in my quarters to obsess on the timeline. At this point it would net me nothing but frustration. I had nothing left to add, no further conclusions I could draw in the absence of fresh data. In addition, last night's encounter with Joshua and Nika had finally made me see that I had family on this ship, family who would worry if I shut myself in my bunk. So instead I kept myself available in my machine shop where they could easily approach me if they needed me.

Something Joshua had said at one point had sparked an idea and now was as good a time as any to see if I could make it work. I hunted through the scrap for the rubber and punch metal and PVC pipe, put my tools to all three materials and in an hour I had three of four rubber-bladed practice knives assembled on my work bench. I was wrapping duct tape around the handle of the fourth when I heard someone coming down the reardecks corridor. I recognized the step and simply swiveled my shop chair to better watch the door from the corner of my eye, and kept on wrapping.

***

Joshua made his way into Rina's machine shop. He hadn't seen Rina since last night. He had gotten up early and prepped breakfast before anyone had gotten up. He just hadn't felt up to dealing with people then. Now he finally felt a little more in control of his emotions. And he wanted to check in on Rina and make sure she was doing okay.

When he entered the shop, Rina was doing something with knives, but he couldn't quite make out what. He stopped in the doorframe and poked his head in. "I don't want to interrupt you if you're busy.”

***

"V'seriozni," I quirked a grin at him. "Don't be ridiculous. You've just saved me the trouble of hunting you down." I got the final wrap aligned and nipped the tape with my teeth, tearing it and smoothing the tail end down. "Have a seat."

***

He casually strolled in and pulled up a stool. "It's not a huge ship," he said with an amused grin. "You wouldn't have needed to hunt for long. But I admit freely I'm not sure what you've got going on here."

***

"Practice knives," I said, demonstrating with the one I held, flipping it to test the balance. It wobbled. "Hmm. Not the best but I doubt we'll be doing anything fancy with them. I just wanted to approximate the Real McCoy. Here, feel the weight." I handed it to him handle first.

***

He hefted the rubber knife in his hand as she gave it over to him. It was definitely solid, an undeniable weight in his hand. "Planning on practicing knifework?" It wouldn't be a bad idea, he thought. He was just now reestablishing a regular Aikido routine after the crazy events of the last few months. Practicing against weapons would be useful. A good disarm technique was as good as a sleeper hold in the right circumstances. Sometimes even more intimidating.

***

“Absolutna,” I said, rising with the other three knives in hand. “It’s no fun practicing alone, though. You game?”

***

He nodded. "Absolutely. The gym is free, or at least it was 30 minutes ago when I replaced the towels." Joshua stood up, sliding the stool back with his foot. He put his hand out in front of him, inviting her to lead the way. As he started to follow her out, he ran himself through preparatory thoughts. It had been a while since he had practiced combat with her. Remember, be careful of her shoulder. Stick to grabs and not throws.

***

I waited until Joshua fell into step beside me and together we walked the length of the ship for the stairs. Kiera and Dyson and Arden were playing cards in the passenger lounge. Casting an eye over the table, I thought I recognized Spades with a dummy hand for the absent fourth player, and unless I missed my guess Arden was winning. I shook my head. I’d learned from that one game with Cooper that Arden was surprisingly lucky at cards and only a fool would seriously play with him twice.

"I hope you don't mind my snagging you for a session," I said as we took the stairs down. "That discussion about guns and knife fights after the train ride had me thinking that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to brush up on my knife skills." And to see if you had any, I didn't say. I really hadn't a clue as to how able Joshua was with knives and I didn't want to embarrass him in front of the others if I could help it. "Lord knows," I added. "I'm getting rusty."

***

"Me too. My Aikido skills are not what they were 6 months ago. Some practice would do me good." He continued down the stairs, eventually following her into the gym. It was still empty, the towels exactly where he had left them. Joshua walked over to the nearby mat, bowing to it first before stepping on. He settled himself into a stance that would lead into the fifth technique, nage gokyo. Excellent for disarming knife blows. Even rubber ones.

***

Suiting up for a practice session was as easy as unzipping my coveralls and letting them fall to the floor. I left my boots standing in them, peeled out of my socks and padded onto the mat in my tee-shirt and bike shorts. I put one knife in the center of the mat, took up the remaining two in either hand, their blades against my forearms, and stepped into a ready stance.

I gave Joshua a curt nod.

"Go."

***

He returned her nod and the corner of his mouth rose in a slight smile. "Bring it on." And he stepped forward a single step, knowing that Rina would be the one to make the initial aggressor move.

***

I circled him a bit, keeping to the balls of my feet, gauging his defenses with a pass here, a feint there. Aikido was not a martial art I was well-acquainted with, despite periodic lessons with Joshua, and I needed the extra minute to get my head in synch with the discipline. Keeping my eyes on him, I lunged forward, my right-hand knife feinting for his throat and my left going for his gut.

***

As she lunged in, he managed to grab her left wrist in an inverted grasp and forced her to her knees by applying pressure to the elbow with the grip. As she dropped down, the pressure also forced her to drop her knife. In her left hand. He hadn't really prepared for the idea of having to defend against two knives, and found himself wide open to the knife in her right hand.

***

“Stoi,” I warned him, gritting my teeth against the twinge from my left shoulder. I pressed my right-hand blade against his left inner thigh. “Down here, Joshua.”

***

"Well done, Rina. I'm now bleeding out all over the street." He really was rusty. When he was fully up to speed, he would've realized his mistake and moved to a throw that would've taken both knives out of commission. Of course, not five minutes ago, he had been telling himself NOT to use throws against her. It was okay though. He could learn as much from failure, both unintentional and intentional as he could from success. Maybe more.

***

I twisted out of the arm lock and rose, shrugging the kink out of my shoulder. I shook my head.

"Thanks, but I should have seen that trick of yours coming." I breathed a laugh. "Let's just agree that we're both hideously rusty. And let's take it a little slower, okay? It didn't hurt nearly as much as the last time but my shoulder still didn't like it."

Keeping in mind my mistake that other day on the mat, I moved back and let Joshua set the pace of the practice. I was looking for a workout, not a trip to med bay, and until we got ourselves back up to speed I didn't want to cause any injuries through impatience. The next hour went well enough and by the end of it, we bowed and walked away sweaty and tired, but satisfied.

I handed Joshua a towel off the stack and gratefully snagged one for myself.

"Thank you. That was fun." I sat down on the mat and started my cool-down routine, the towel draped around my neck. "I think I figured out that trick of yours, finally. Sneaky."

***

He took the towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I would hope so." Joshua smirked a little as he said it. "I must have used it close to a dozen times against you. You not being trained in Aikido and me trying to be careful with your shoulder limited my selection a little.”

As he started his own series of stretches, he tried to make sure she understood he wasn't whining about it. "But that's probably a good thing, especially being so out of practice. Keeping my moves limited forces me not only to hone them to a fine edge, but also to get creative in how they're used.”

***

I looked up from my stretch and raised a brow at him.

“That was the general idea, wasn’t it? Getting creative in your weaponry?” I straightened and sighed. “You’ve made it clear you won’t use a gun and I won’t force the issue. Guns are off the table. But there are knives and swords and a bazillion other things you can use and surprise your enemy with if you play your cards right.”

I thought about the element of surprise and a stray memory surfaced.

“Sometimes really surprise them.”

***

"Yeah?" Joshua looked over at her and could see the mental gears churning inside Rina's head. "Some sort of special knife move? Or did you have something different in mind?"

***

"Different?" I slid a look at him, amusement making my lips twitch. "Yeah, I think that about covers it."

And drawing up my knees, I got comfortable and told him ...

***

Tuesday, 30 Nov 2517
Esperanza Commercial Zone
Esperanza Spaceport, Santo
White Sun (Bai Hu) system
2340hrs, local time

I'd touched down late and bade my goodbyes to the freighter I'd hitched my ride on. Nothing against the people on her. They were third-generation spacers, the entire crew blood family down to the last member, and kind to a down-on-her luck journeyman like myself. However, they were kissing dirt on Santo to pick up a relative as their permanent engineer and their ship wasn't large or complex enough to need two greasemonkeys cluttering the engine room. So I said my goodbyes, dodged promises to keep in touch and gave them my heartfelt thanks. I didn't need to tell them to watch their backs—they were third gen spacers after all, and were wise to the Verse.

I knew they knew I was running and they had the discretion to keep their noses out of it while they gave me passage in exchange for work. The four weeks aboard their vessel were a respite I was sorry to see end but I resolutely put my boots to the tarmac and walked off. I had maybe two credits to my name and nothing but the clothes on my back and the skill of my hands to stave off starvation, but Santo was a busy place and her spaceport busier. I had no doubt I'd find work. I turned my collar up against the light drizzle spitting down and charted a course for the bright lights and noise of the commercial zone. If nothing else, I could find my way to an overly busy bar and talk the owner into letting me play bouncer til closing time. It might net me a meal and a place to doss down til morning. Or it might net me a bar brawl.

Get going. The night's not getting any younger. Or your wallet any fatter.

The guards didn't even look twice when I went through the access gate. I was just another spacer with her duffel on her back, looking for a hot meal, a soft bed, and maybe someone to share it with. One of a million they've already seen. I let them go on thinking that and dove into the neon and the rain and tried not to obsess on what might be following me.

***

Ezekiel followed the backs of his companions through the rainy streets of Santo, wondering exactly what he was expecting to find here. His cane clacked against the slick pavement as he quickened his pace to keep up with the crew of the Long Ride. They were in more of a hurry than usual, he knew. Captain March owed credits to Petrosovic - a lot of credits, in fact and Petrosovic did not have much patience for dawdling when it came to repayment. Back on Paquin, the ship had taken on an expedited cargo - a small box no bigger than a man's hand. Eidos, the ship's purser, had the box in his hands right now, clutched tight to his chest like he thought the rain might make him drop it. It was very wet, Ezekiel thought as he wiped the rain from his glasses.

The box was due in about 40 minutes to the owner of The Fantastic Fury, the casino where they were headed now. On time, and the captain had the money to pay Petrosovic back. Late meant half payment and half payment meant potential unpleasantness. Which was why they were doubletiming it with Ezekiel trailing in the back.

Ezekiel was not actually a member of the crew. He had signed on as a long term passenger six months ago, with the understanding that he would pay a little less up front, but would also be willing to go where ever the ship went, no complaints. An odd arrangement, to be sure, but it suited his needs - they didn't ask any questions about what he was looking for or the side trips he took on their various stops and he didn't volunteer any information. He smoothed over any crew concerns by helping with odd jobs and lending them his sword arm on certain occasions. Which is why he was trailing along with them now. Just in case the casino owner's clock was running fast.

They were stopped at a street corner when Ezekiel heard the girl over the sound of rushing traffic and the constant patter of rain. He turned his head to the right, looking for the face to put to the cries of pain he had already heard.

***

I had gotten a tip on a possible job at one of the casinos and was making my way toward it. The rain was coming down harder and running in a steady stream off my cap's bill. It was also getting past my collar and soaking the back of my neck. My duffel was waterproofed and kept the majority of the rain off my back, however, and I was grateful for it. November on Santo wasn't exactly a hardship but rain had a way of soaking into your bones if you were careless and it took longer to warm up afterward.

Or maybe it's because you've been pushing too hard.

"Or maybe I could just shut the hell up and find that damned casino," I muttered. The directions the bouncer gave me had it two streets up and three over. A crowd clogged the intersection ahead, the sidewalks spilling pedestrians into the street and making the traffic crawl. Some sort of parade, if the lights and the cheers were any indication. I ducked down an alley to avoid the press and pulled my knife from my boot. I held the blade against my forearm, hiding it from view and proceeded through the murk for the street at the far end.

Rats scurried through the garbage. Cats hunted them despite the wet. There were doors punctuating the rain-slicked walls and several had working lamps, throwing down isolated pools of light. I went from one to the other and had just stepped into the murk again when two figures blocked the entrance to the street.

One was small and the other large. Male and female and the female was getting the shit end of the stick.

Literally.

Pimp. Beating one of his girls. Bastard.

I tightened my straps to keep my duffel on me and moved as quickly as I could without giving away my approach. The rush of the rain and the noise from the parade helped, but if I was going to get the drop on the man, I had to keep my presence a secret.

She was crying and begging in earnest now, crumpled against the wall with her arms up. She was thin and underfed, and her arms were paltry protection from the truncheon. I heard the crack of breaking bone. The woman shrieked. The man laughed and his tone made the element of surprise irrelevant.

Shit. He's gonna kill her.

My knife was out and it had his throat's name on it when someone else stepped into the fray. Thinking the bastard had back up, I melted to the side and crouched next to a trash bin. I eased my hand inside my coveralls and drew my gun from my shoulder rig. Against one man in the dark, my knife would suffice. Against two? I would need something with a little more punch.

The woman froze as the other man walked in, a rabbit caught between two predators, and her eyes were white as she looked from one to the other.

I raised my gun and centered the first bastard's head in my sights. If nothing else, I could take out the known quantity first and deal with the second later.

Sorry, hon. I thought at the woman. Better his brains on your blouse than yours.

The rain had finally won past my cap and trickled into my eyes, ruining my shot. I shook my head to flick the wet free and blinked my vision clear.

***

Ezekiel spotted her at the entrance to an alley in the middle of the cross street. Small, skinny, and blond, she was taking a beating at the hands of a larger man with bulk almost putting him at chubby. He was smacking her across the face with his hand. The glint of a ring off the light of the nearby streetlamp meant she probably had a couple of broken cheekbones from where ring had intersected with face. Her cries grew louder as the man changed over to a truncheon to inflict even more punishment. He frowned and immediately turned and started walking in that direction.

Franklin, the ship's engineer and security had been standing directly next to Ezekiel. When Ezekiel started to walk away, Franklin grabbed Ezekiel's bony arm and said in a growl, "Zeke, we have somewhere to be. What are you doing?”

Ezekiel pulled his arm away from Franklin and looked over towards the beating going on across the street, now clearly visible to anyone on the street. But people just continued walking past in the rain, as if the falling water created a shield between them and the events in the alley. "The question is," and Ezekiel turned back towards the girl, his words floating back to Franklin as he walked on, "why aren't you doing it?”

When he stepped in next to the man, his cane at his side, his coat dripping from the rain, the large man turned away from the girl to look Ezekiel over. Ezekiel, despite being only an inch or two shorter than the man, gave up at least 50 pounds in bulk. He often charitably described himself as scrawny - the Frenze disease left him as more bone than flesh, skinny almost to the point of concern. At 5'10", his skinny frame was swallowed up by his long, black coat and his round, black thick glasses completed the picture of an accountant who had wandered into the wrong alleyway.

The bulky man laughed a deep chuckle. "Get lost, hero. This ain't none of your concern. Don't make me give you what I had to give her.”

Ezekiel stood there calmly assessing the situation. The girl was out of the way, cowered up against the wall. The man was still five feet away, which was a little farther than Ezekiel would have liked. His cane clacked against the wet street as he deliberately took another couple of steps closer. "Let her go and there won't have to be any trouble.”

***

I had to decide who to help first—the woman or the string bean with the cane. By my eye, String Bean was fifty, sixty pounds lighter than the Bastard but he had a fast look to him, despite the glasses.

Besides, he isn't the one bleeding and broken on the pavement. She is.

I stowed my gun, tucked my knife up my sleeve and crabbed across the alley for the woman.

Keep talkin', Mister. Keep the Bastard distracted. I only need a minute...

***

The pimp, for it was obvious that was what he was, stepped closer and pulled a gun from a back pocket pointing it at Ezekiel. He was now maybe two feet away. "Nee Tzao Se Mah? (You wanna die?)" He waved the gun in the direction of Ezekiel's chest. "You wanna bleed out in the rain, I'm happy to help you, wong ba duhn (son of a bitch).”

He was careless, Ezekiel thought. He's not even bothering to take careful aim. Probably expects me to be scared out of my wits and run screaming. The threat of a gun probably did the job for him ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Well, welcome to number one hundred, sir.

The empty cane clattered to the street as in a blink, Ezekiel twisted the handle, pulled out the sword within and had it touching the throat of the bulky man, who suddenly froze as the steel touched his skin. Without a hint of fear, Ezekiel calmly said, "My steel will be intersecting your throat before you can pull the trigger. I suggest dropping the gun and kicking it up against the wall." In a small motion, he nodded his head towards the wall. "Don la ma? (Are we clear?)”

***

I approached the woman and headed off her scream by putting a finger to my lips: Sh-hhh. I checked String Bean and blinked.

Where the hell did that sword come from? The cane? Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

I got my hands under the woman’s arms and started dragging her out of the line of fire. She bumped her broken arm against a stray box of rubbish and yelped.

So much for the covert getaway. Damn.

I eased the woman to the pavement and drew my gun, crouching in the filthy runoff of the alley and aiming straight up for the Bastard’s head. My bullet should just about take him under the chin if he turned around.

Turn around, you.

My finger curled round the trigger and squeezed just short of the break.

Damn you. Turn!

***

The pimp's eyes widened as Ezekiel gave him his instructions, as if he had suddenly realized what kind of trouble he was suddenly in. He slowly released his fingers from the trigger and then the gun, letting it fall to the ground at his feet. Ezekiel pricked him with the sword, drawing a bit of blood, and the pimp quickly kicked the gun over to the wall on Ezekiel's left.

As the pimp disarmed himself, Ezekiel could hear the yelp of the girl and the sounds of movement of a third party. The girl wasn't screaming, so he had to assume that whoever had gotten involved was not an immediate threat. Focus on one problem at a time. The Lord will help with the rest.

Once the gun was up against the wall, Ezekiel continued with his instructions. "Now, take your money clip out and throw that against the wall. We're going to call that a cruelty tax.”

***

I kept my gun on the Bastard, not trusting him to resist pulling a sudden move, not even after he ditched his gun and his money. The woman next to me stirred at the tinny chime of the clip hitting the wall and she scrambled for it. I let her take it. She’d more than earned it.

I rose, adjusting my aim, and got a grip on the woman’s uninjured arm.

“Give the man some room,” I murmured and drew her farther back into the alley. That sword looked wicked sharp and its wielder’s arm was long. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the swing path if the sword came into play but neither did I want to abandon the swordsman in case the Bastard really did have back up.

You’ve done enough. Walk away, that paranoid twitch at the back of my consciousness whispered. How do you know it’s not an elaborate trap? It’s not like you covered your tracks coming here.

Shut up.

I got the woman out of the muck, planted her on a relatively clean packing crate, and slowly moved forward. The Bastard might have back up, but now so did the swordsman. I told my paranoia to take a hike and covered the Bastard from the rear. If he was going to rabbit, he’d have to go through one or the other of us and I was hoping he’d turn tail and run. Very few things in the Verse set me off harder than a man taking it out on a woman or a child and I doubted I’d shed a tear over his corpse if I gunned him down.

Nope. Not a drop.

***

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezekiel saw a fuzzy outline he was pretty certain was the girl rush forward and pick up the clip. Hopefully it would be enough to get her out of the area and healed up. He could hear the third party back saying something to her, but couldn't make out what. Whoever the third party was, they were performing a valuable service by calming the girl down and keeping her from doing something rash. He wasn't particularly fond of flying blind about their intent, but he had been in worse situations.

Those thoughts passed through his head in a split second and he turned his attention back to the final problem. Preventing reprisals. "Now, here are your final instructions." He made sure to stare the big man in the eyes, like a trainer taming a wild animal.

Show no fear and establish dominance. It is the only way to take control. The memory of Rebecca's calm, commanding voice echoed in his head and he adopted the tone for what he said next. After all, this was not a human being he was dealing with, but a wild dog. "There will be no reprisals against me or the girl," Ezekiel said firmly, drawing a little more blood with the sword to make his point. "When I'm done talking, you will walk, not run, out of this alley and you will never be seen again in this part of town. If you even so much as breathe wrong on another girl, I'll know. And then you will find that my justice will not be so tempered with mercy. Now leave."

***

I heard the scrape and bump of the crate and spun, two seconds too late. The woman was already splashing down the alley for the far end. Not that I blamed her. Having landed a windfall in cash and her attacker rendered unable to retaliate, bugging out was the smart thing to do. I should have had the sense to do the same but I turned back around to offer the swordsman my support. I put the back of the Bastard’s head in my sights and waited for the next move.

***

When the girl bolted, the pimp deflated, suddenly looking about half his size, as his last chance to salvage the situation ran into the crowded city streets of Santo. It was clear to Ezekiel the fat man wouldn't be a threat any more. "Go on, now," Ezekiel ordered in a soft drawl and the pimp turned in the opposite direction from the way the girl had fled and slowly dragged himself through the rain, a beaten man looking for a hole to crawl in.

When the pimp was out of sight, Ezekiel saw the mysterious third party - a dark haired woman holding a gun and took a deep breath. He then took a brief second to close his eyes and murmur under his breath, giving needed words to the Lord.

God, forgive me for doubting my reasons to be here on this planet. Please continue to guide me and I will continue to listen. Your Will be done, amen.

Closing his eyes while there was still a third unknown woman might be considered dangerous to many people. But since Ezekiel's sight had started getting worse over the last few years, he had learned to rely on his ears more than his eyes. He would hear her coming if she chose to make a move. But he didn't think she would. He normally trusted his intuition in matters such as these and his intuition told him she was on his side. Or at least not against him.

He opened his eyes and in a voice loud enough to be clearly heard over the rain said, "Thank you for your help. Not many people would step in." He then pulled his soaking wet shirt out where it had been tucked into his waistband, using the end to wipe his sword down. If she meant to harm him, this was her opportunity to do so.

***

I took my finger off the trigger and lowered my gun, a little disappointed at the Bastard’s escape but was grateful not to have to deal with a corpse. Doubtless a night rarely went by here without a body or two gracing the police reports, but tonight at least those reports would have nothing to do with me. Or the swordsman.

Assuming we didn’t stand around like a pair of idiots waiting for the cops to pick us up.

“I’m not many people. Speaking of which…,” I leaned aside to check the street behind him. Pedestrians weren’t exactly stopping to stare, but some had started to notice something wasn’t quite right with the alley. “The less people involved, the better. Tuck your shirt, hide the blood and for God’s sake, stow the blade. I won’t deny it’s deadly but it sticks out.”

I holstered my gun and zipped my coveralls to my collarbone to hide it. My knife, entirely unbloodied, went back into my left boot. I pulled my pants leg over it and straightened. Just another spacer groundside, looking for work.

“We need to get off the street.” That’s for damn sure. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and using it as a makeshift glove, I picked up the pimp’s gun. Five seconds later, I had it in three pieces. I put the clip in my coveralls and tossed the slide down the alley. It made a satisfying clunk against one of the cans. The body of the pistol went down the storm drain. No point in leaving it for someone else to use. I stowed my handkerchief and going with my gut against my better judgment, I asked, “Got a place in mind?”

***

She was right about this all being for God's sake, but he kept the thought to himself. Neither the time nor the place.

Ezekiel calmly finished wiping his sword down. While they definitely needed a departure from the alleyway, he was not going to disrespect his weapon in the process. He switched it to his left hand and tucked his shirt back in with his right. Now, where had his cane sheath gone to? He looked about the alleyway and saw that when he had drawn his blade earlier, the sheath had dropped and rolled against the alley wall on his right.

When he leaned down to pick it up, he felt his left knee spasm and he lost the feeling in his left leg. He barely managed to hold on to his sword as his leg gave out, sending him sprawling to the ground. Never let it be said that God didn't have a sense of humor or a fantastic sense of timing, he thought.

***

I saw him fall and my first thought was the Bastard had somehow knifed him. After all, knives were silent and it didn't take much to do a lot of damage or require a lot of room to use. If done right, it would also take a minute before the victim felt it. I got down on the pavement in a flash and pulled his coat open, looking for the wound.

"Lie still," I said, praying nothing vital had been hit. I smoothed my hands over his front, felt nothing unusual, and went round for his back. "Knives can be tricky, make you bleed out before you know it."

I risked a glance at the street and saw a man tag another on the arm and point our way.

Shit. Think fast.

"Sorry," I whispered and straddling him I pulled him to me and kissed him as if my life depended on it.

***

Five years? Six? It had been a long time since Ezekiel had kissed a woman. Whether it was the length of time between this one and the last or the woman in question, this kiss was particularly nice, a contact point of warmth as the cold rain sluiced over the two of them. So it took him a minute to disengage. Once he had finally removed his lips, still tingling from the kiss, he realized that he still couldn't feel his leg. Longer term episode, he thought. Nothing to do but to tough it out.

"Wasn't knived. Something with my leg, too long to explain here. Can you reach my holder for me?" He pointed to the cane, which was just out of reach from where he had fallen, especially with her weight on top of him. "If you would just slide it on to my sword here, I'll try and stand up.”

***

What the hell are you doing? the back of my head screamed at my front. Don’t get involved. Disengage. Prudent advice but could I take it? A glance at the street showed the coast was clear, everyone had moved on, and the man beneath me had already broken contact. My wits caught up with my ears and I rose to fetch his cane. I flicked the rain and street crap off it and handed it to him.

“Nice work,” I said, leaving it vague as to what I’d meant, the rescue, the cane, or the kiss. Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t have put my mouth on a stranger I’d only just met but these weren’t ordinary circumstances and after running on the edge for so long, I’d become numb to my usual internal squicks. They were a luxury I couldn’t afford. Whatever got me through the next five minutes I’d do and bother with the consequences afterward.

***

Ezekiel pushed himself to sitting, slid the sword inside its holder, twisting the handle with a click. He then tried to get his only working leg under him, using the cane as support, but couldn't quite manage. The rain made it difficult and without anything for his other hand to grab onto, he was stuck there on the wet pavement.

He looked over at the woman, who was glancing from side to side like she expected someone to jump them at any second. She had handled the pimp's gun like a professional and her language when talking about the knife wound suggested mercenary or soldier. It made the kiss even more inexplicable. He heard her response in his head. I’m not many people. Hoping that was true, Ezekiel held out a hand and prepared to expose his weakness, hoping the woman was willing to help a little more. "I need a hand up, please. I'm not going to be able to move my left leg.”

***

He asked for a hand and I gave it, putting my back into it as he struggled to rise. He was lighter than I expected, even with the awkward angle, and I recalled how thin he'd felt when I'd skimmed him for that knife wound. Someone that skinny might well have been a non-fighting type and nine times out of ten, I'd have been right. Obviously, he's number ten. Interesting. I kept my speculation to myself, however, and loosened my grip when he got his bum leg under him.

"Can you walk?" I asked when he got himself to rights. He was several inches under six feet and I reckoned lending him a shoulder wouldn't put us too off-kilter. But the male ego is a fragile thing and I'd taken too many liberties with it already. I wasn't going to presume with my shoulder—or anything else—unless he requested it.

***

He shifted his cane to his left hand and tried taking a couple of steps, using it to support the weight that his leg couldn't. Thankfully, he realized the leg only seemed to be numb below the knee, which allowed him to drag the left leg along with him. The steps were haltering and slow, but they were there. "I think I'll be okay to walk, but if you wouldn't mind staying close for a couple of minutes." He motioned his head back behind him. "I'm new to Santo, but I saw a little Chinese place a couple streets back if you didn't mind getting some food and letting me sit for a few.”

The fact that she hadn't offered her name yet suggested a privacy to her. Ezekiel clarified, "No commitment - if you need to be moving on, you could walk me there and I'll manage. The Lord usually provides, as long as I'm willing to put the effort in on my end.”

***

"Sounds like a plan," I said and walked beside him, not touching but ready to grab him if his leg failed. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I was starting to shake. "Right now, hot food and a dry place sounds like Heaven. Which way?"

***

Ezekiel led them out of the alleyway back in the direction he had come from originally. As they slowly made their way through the rain, he hoped the crew of the Long Ride had made their delivery on time and safely. While he felt slightly bad about leaving them, any services he provided were his choice, not theirs. Besides, they were all fairly well armed and could handle themselves. He would just need to stop by the ship and get the remainder of his things soon.

A couple of blocks later, they arrived at a small, almost hole in the wall building with a small neon sign out front labeling it as the Lucky Dragon. Not terribly original as restaurant names went, but when he hobbled inside with the woman's help, the place was well kept with clean tables and beautiful hand painted wall panels depicting scenery of a dragon creeping over a series of hills towards an unsuspecting army. The elderly Chinese woman up front guided them through the almost empty restaurant to a candlelit table towards the back without even asking them any questions. Their host smiled at them as they sat down and then mumbled something in Chinese about a waiter coming soon before wandering back to the front. She must think we're together, he thought. A bit awkward but it did keep them from having to give their names or provide details. Hopefully his mysterious benefactor wouldn't bug out.

***

I caught the look the woman gave us and didn't miss her assumption about our relationship. There was nothing for it but let it slide. I had no control over what other people would think yet still I took care not to sit too close to the man. I was in luck: the table sat at an angle to the wall and two chairs faced the front entrance. I took one of them from habit and located the door to the kitchen in case I needed to bug out the rear. Exit strategy taken care of, I parked myself with my back to the wall, my eyes to the front, and said the man beside me, "What brings you to Santo?"

***

Still no name, Ezekiel noticed. While he didn't want to intrude on whatever business required such secrecy, he also didn't want to spend the entire conversation (however long it lasted) thinking of her as 'the woman'. So he decided to improvise.

"You don't look like a Mary or an Anne to me," he said, completely ignoring her question for the time being. "Perhaps something with more of an edge to it. I'm going to go with Kat. You have the look of the feline about you, alert and aware. Short for Katherine or Katarina, perhaps." A small hint of a smile crossed his face. If she didn't have a sense of humor, he'd be eating alone in just a few seconds.

"My name is Ezekiel, but friends, family, and women who kiss me in the rain can call me Zeke.”

***

This was the second time I’d withheld my name against the rules of polite society and I wasn’t unaware of my rudeness. However, I’d only just met the man and though I was pretty certain I would likely never see him again, I didn’t want to hand him anything that would make him a target. Like my name. Being seen with me was damning enough and paranoia urged me to thank him and leave, that the less people remembered us together, the better it would be for him.

That was assuming that the people I evaded were even looking my way at the moment. Santo was a world blessed with casinos and criminals and it made a profitable living supporting both. Part of what made that work was a mixture of willful ignorance of other people’s business and self-interested snooping into the same. The trick to ensuring the first and avoiding the second was giving people what they expected to see so they could ignore it. So long as I blended in and didn’t make a scene, I should be safe and so should he. The old woman at the door had already assumed we were a couple or at least friends and therefore nothing remarkable. So instead of leaving him in the lurch, I sat with him, not too aloof but not too familiar doing it. Just two friends coming in out of the rain.

And really, how important a target are you that they’d jump you less than an hour after you stepped off ship? Seriously, you need to get over yourself, girl. Esperanza is huge and finding you will take some time. Relax. Blend. Go with the flow. Don’t antagonize the opposition and you’ll be gone before they even know you were here.

It was good advice and it had served me well but in truth I stayed because Zeke was a puzzle. My father had always said that puzzles were my next besetting sin besides things mechanical and there was much about the man that was puzzling. Zeke was a swordsman in a Verse full of gun users and he followed a code of honor as anachronistic as his weapon. Yet he didn’t seem stupidly idealistic or naïve. There was a rational decision in his weapon choice, a logic behind his credo. Maybe it was the sense of release that came of getting off-ship after a month of confinement, maybe it was the dark and the rain, or maybe it was the giddiness from the adrenaline but I was feeling curious enough to sit in a public restaurant with a chance-met stranger rather than moving on.

The old woman returned with a pot of tea and two cups and I poured while waiting for her to move out of earshot. She took up her post at her doorside table and I raised my cup in a toast.

“Pleased to meet you, Zeke.” I carefully tapped rims with him and took a sip. The tea blistered my tongue but I savored the warmth as it went down and gave Zeke a tight smile. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but Kat is new. And a lot closer to the truth. So what brings you to Santo?”

***

Ezekiel had been wandering the Verse for close to seven years and he had learned a long time ago that the complete truth about what he was seeking tended to confuse people. Or worse, make them think he was crazy. So he tended to keep it close to the breast and by the way "Kat" was dancing around her identity, he was guessing she did the same. "I'm a student of history." He took a sip of his tea and he could feel it fighting the damp cold of his soaking wet clothes.

He elaborated, "I've been wandering a bit, going where the ships can take me. 'Course, I just lost my current ride, so I may be here for a bit." He hadn't thought Santo would have a lot of answers for him, but of course, God always had lessons to teach him. Some had to do with Excalibur but some did not and Santo already had shown him one of those.

***

“History?” I took another sip of my tea and found it cool enough to drink without pain. I cradled the warm porcelain in my fingers and leaned back, stretching my legs under the table. Thanks to the heat of the room and the tea, I was beginning to lose the shakes and the restaurant was redolent with the aromas of good food cooking. My stomach gave me a prod and I silently told it to behave. History was usually something one didn’t have to go far afield to study yet he’d just admitted he’d been knocking around the Verse and I had to wonder if he was running from something or someone. Still, if he was willing to divulge that much, he might be willing to divulge a little more. So I took up the lead he’d offered me and attempted to expand on it. “Any particular era of history? And why do you need to travel for it?”

***

"Religious icons and mythology of Old Earth." As Ezekiel said it, the elderly woman brought them both a steaming bowl of some sort of noodle soup, thick with a clear broth. He couldn't remember ever being asked what he wanted once. Perhaps they should have called the place the Deterministic Dragon, he thought, spooning himself a bite."My specialty is Europe. England, if you want to get really specific."

And this was usually where the questioning ended. Most people were not interested in things gone by, especially history of a planet they'd never get to see. But then again, she had already said she was different...perhaps if he didn't want to answer the awkward questions, he had better turn the conversation in a different direction. Besides, he wanted to learn a little more about her. Seemingly extremely private but yet helped out a strange woman and kissed a man she didn't know.

"So, Miss 'Not Many People'," he began to ask as he finished a second bite, "why did you help out back there? What makes you different from most of the population in any city in the 'Verse?" He wiped at his face with his napkin while he waited for her to respond.

***

I dipped my spoon into the soup and skimmed off some of the broth to buy time to think. Chicken flavored with garlic and chive hit my tongue. It had been ages since I'd had anything so delicious and it made my eyelids flutter. Bliss.

I held the bowl Chinese-style to my chin, took in a heartier spoonful, and cut a look at Zeke over the rim. Candlelight gleamed off his glasses and gilded the various bits of metal on him--buttons, zippers and glasses frames. An almost nebbishy man, yet proven to be more than he seemed. Combat had shown a side of him that I doubted most people ever witnessed and because of that I felt he deserved a straight answer.

"Because I could," I said. "And also because it was happening right in front of me and I had the choice to turn around and let it happen or go forward and change the outcome. We know which option I chose. Besides," I added. "I got there first. If we wanted to be strictly honest about it, you were helping me. So, how about you? Why did you help back there?"

***

"Are you a woman of faith, Kat? Do you believe in something bigger than yourself?" As he answered her question with one of his own, Ezekiel's tone was not that of a sales pitch, but rather one of genuine curiosity. His job was not to proselytize - but it would be easier to explain to someone who was starting from a similar foundation.

***

"Faith? You mean, like in God?" I put the bowl to my lips and got some of the noodles and chicken shreds down me. A strand of egg floated past my tongue, a pleasant surprise, and I swallowed another mouthful of soup. Licking my lips, I put the bowl down and faced him square. "If so, I should warn you that He and I don't talk much anymore, and when we do, I'm usually cursing Him."

***

"I'm sorry to hear that." And he was. Ezekiel always felt a little sad when people were so angry with God. But he didn't want to head down that line with questioning with Kat, because he was pretty sure he would head into questions she wouldn't want to answer. And it wasn't his original intent anyway.

He took another spoonful of soup, giving himself a minute to gather his thoughts. "But it doesn't have to be God, although I do recommend Him. I'm really asking if there is a foundation by which you live your life, something big and encompassing that you can rely on to guide you?”

***

I breathed a laugh and leaned back in my chair, my eyes narrowing with wary amusement.

"You just jump right in with the really interesting questions, don't you? Nothing like, 'Oh, where are you from', or 'How about that sports team,' or anything normal like that, huh? No, it's okay. I started it. Gimme a minute."

I stared at the candle on the table so I wouldn't have to look at him. It was a risk, ruining my night vision and taking my eyes off the room but Zeke had already proven he was observant and possessed quick reflexes. He could watch my back for the minute I needed to get my thoughts in order.

"I ... am not much given to introspection," I said finally. I took my eyes off the candle flame and blinked spots from my vision and faced him. "I generally don't have time for it. And by that, I mean I rarely have the luxury of time to spare. But if I had to describe the mainspring that keeps me going, I'd have to say it's a combination of things. I believe in myself, mostly, and that in the end, we all die and go back to the source of what we're made of. Whether you try to anthropomorphize it by calling it God or try to quantify it by calling it atomic energy, I just know that we're made of it and we can't destroy it. We simply change our state. And yet ...," I sighed. "That's the scientist's answer, an engineer's answer, and it doesn't address one of the biggest things that I think is important."

I sucked in a deep breath and released it.

"I believe that there are certain lines you cannot cross without giving up your humanity. That there are certain things that nurture your soul and there are things that damn it. I believe that there is a human drive that most would call spirit, and that it cannot be denied. Free will, self-determination, justice are all expressions of it but don't exactly define it any more than candle light is defined by the wall it falls on or by the candle flame that emits it. I've had the ... good fortune ... to test the limits of mine. I'm not entirely sure I'm done with the testing. I only know that it must be done, that the universe will never stop testing those limits, and how I meet the test is as important as the final result." I breathed another laugh and shook my head. "You're good. You got that out of me without a single drop of vodka. Remind me never to go drinking with you."

***

Ezekiel had rested his elbows on the table in front of him as she started to speak and he smiled as she talked about self-determination and justice. The candlelight flickered across her face and he looked into her eyes, his face more serious as she talked about being tested. "You and God perhaps ought to talk more often. I think you and He would have more to say to each other than you think." Continuing on quickly, he said, "But to answer your original question, God asked me to find something, sort of an old-fashioned quest, if you know any of the stories. And just like those stories, I may have to wander every inch of space, talk to every person, read every book, but more than that...I have to prove myself worthy. So moments like that are both a signpost and a test. God letting me know I'm a step closer and asking me if I deserve to be.”

She said he was good, but she had gotten out of him more than he had told anyone in years. Anyone not of the cloth, that is.

***

“Religious icons, Old Earth history, a quest to find something,” I said. I ticked the items off on my fingers. “So … I don’t think the Holy Grail has been definitively found. Or the Ark of the Covenant. Or the one truly honest man. Religion and folklore filled to bursting with things lost. We’d be here all night. But wait … you’re looking for whatever it is that you’re looking for here, in this Verse, and not on Old Earth or Sol system, right? So it stands to reason it’s something that got carried over on the Exodus, something that didn’t make it on the Manifests. Either it was completely ubiquitous and escaped notice or there was nothing to observe. Doesn’t that suggest an intangible like a concept or principle instead of a tangible physical object?”

I had to admit this entire encounter with Zeke was taking a surreal turn, though I felt no threat coming from it. Perhaps the bond of surviving combat together or maybe the dimness of the restaurant encouraged talk and revelations, giving our conversation an almost confessional air about it. Or maybe it simply had been a very long time since either of us had the opportunity and the audience to pursue spiritual topics. Whatever the reason, I felt a certain ease in his company that I’d not enjoyed in months and I was reluctant to have it end.

I’ll stay until I’m done with the soup, then I’ll thank him and go. I just hope I can cover the cost of my share. From the sounds in the kitchen, they’ve already got enough people washing dishes that I can’t use that work off my bill.

“As for deserving to be? A wise friend once said to me that I should never doubt that we are the right people in the right place at the right time, and that the Universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, God would never give us more than we can endure, that life is not a caravan of despair. That it doesn’t matter if we’d broken our vows a thousand times over or that we’d failed to reach our goals, because He would still welcome us home. I’m not sure my friend was entirely right, because there is no knowing the true outcome while we’re still alive, but I think that the human animal needs the unknowable and unobtainable to strive for. Perhaps your question of deserving isn’t a matter of attaining sufficient merit, but rather only that you try.”

I stirred my soup absently, thinking on it.

“Isn’t that the underlying nature of spiritual quests anyway? That it’s a discovery not only of the object sought but a discovery of the self as well? And sometimes what we discover about ourselves is the more important part.”

***

Listening to Kat talk, several thoughts passed through Ezekiel's mind. First, she was more spiritual than she cared to admit to herself. And second, she was more knowledgeable than most when it came to his specialty. Not many people remembered the Holy Grail these days as an actual object. And finally, they could have been friends under different circumstances. "Choosing to try is how I deserve it. It wasn't a matter of whether I succeeded or failed in helping that woman, but that I didn't just walk past. That I made an attempt to see that true justice was done. Although for her sake, I'm happy I succeeded."

As he said it, their elderly host reappeared, her arms full with a large tray of food. She set it down on their table and unloaded several large plates full of food that looked absolutely delicious. Some sort of beef and broccoli dish, what looked to be kung pao chicken, and some sort of pork dish that he didn't recognize. He barely had time to tell her thank you before she had gathered the tray and wandered off. All a little surreal, he thought. Talking with a stranger about the role of choice while being brought food they hadn't had any choice in.

Their host had left two empty plates behind as well. He grabbed one and started filling it with food. As he spooned some chicken on to his plate, Ezekiel said, "As far as what I'm seeking, it was once a physical object, but it is also a symbol of that intangible concept which you referred to. Therefore, it always has to exist in the physical somehow. But who knows, perhaps God is sending me to find a way to recreate it. Mysterious ways and all that."

***

“Mysterious ways? Maybe. In my experience, ‘mysterious ways’ usually means ‘long-term’, ‘maddening’, or ‘heart-breaking’ in that context. Sometimes all three.” I leaned back in my chair with my tea. The food tantalized but I didn’t want to incur any debt I wasn’t willing to pay. I sipped my tea to mollify my stomach and went on. “But God’s methods aside, how will you know if you’ve found the physical manifestation? How can you recreate it? Do you know what it looks like?”

***

As he looked up from his plate heaped with something from every bowl, Ezekiel noticed that Kat was not touching any of the food. "Are you going to eat? It's a little rude not to eat food your date is paying for," he admonished with a small quirk of a smile.

With a bite of broccoli in his mouth (speaking of rude, he thought), he said, "God and I have a pretty straightforward relationship, to be honest. He watches over me, tells me what I ought to be doing and doesn't sweat the small details. In return, I give him my trust. I've been training my entire life at the sword to be able to wield Excalibur. I'll trust in God that he'll let me recognize it when the time comes.”

***

"Date? Paying for?" I hated to ask but I wanted to be sure of his intentions. If necessary I could leave the last two credits I had on the table and walk away.

***

"You did kiss me." As he said it, he held up his hand to stop any panic. The wary tone in Kat's voice and the look in her eyes that screamed 'Escape!' made him realize he had stepped too far, even with that casual joking statement. Her past must weigh upon her heavily, he thought. "No date," he said seriously. "I'm sorry if I offended you. But I'm glad to pay for the meal. The food shouldn't be wasted and it is the least I can do. I'd still be flat against the pavement in the alley if it wasn't for you.”

***

“I kissed you, yeah,” I said before I could stop myself. “And no offense, but if you recall I apologized first before I did it.” I could hear my tone, defensive and accusatory and made myself relax. “Sorry. Not your fault. Everyone’s got their buttons and you’d just hammered mine. Unintentionally, I know. You really don’t know the first thing about me.”

I bit my lip, eyeing the food. Hunger warred with caution, good manners with habit. I looked at Zeke and wished the lighting was better, and watched him carefully as I said, “Dinner wasn’t on my mind when I helped you up. But thank you. I could stand to eat.”

I pulled the empty plate over and served up a spoonful of whatever was closest, gauging his expression. The path out the front was clear, as was the way to the kitchen. I could bug out if I had to. I just hoped I didn’t have to.

***

"You are right, I don't know anything about you," Ezekiel agreed. "And from what I can gather, you want to keep it that way." She was trying to hide it, but from the way she was scooping food just a little too fast, it was clear she was very hungry, And probably without a lot of money, since the cost of a single meal seemed to be an issue. Those facts were not unusual by themselves. But they didn't stand alone. Ezekiel wasn't always the most observant, but he had noticed the way she kept her eyes on the entrances while keeping her back to the door. Combine that with her reluctance to give a name, and the broad brushstrokes of someone on the run started to come into view.

He shrugged. "I'm fine with that state of affairs. I'm happy for some company out of the rain and the chance to talk about God and religious philosophy with someone who cares. No more commitment than that. When we're finished talking and eating, you walk away in one direction and I walk away in the other." Hopefully that would be enough to keep her here a little longer.

***

"I'm sorry. That came out ruder than I wanted. Thank you for this." I picked the chopsticks and ate. No point in beating my breast over it. It would only embarrass without purpose. After a minute I looked up and focused on something he'd said, prompted by my childhood reading. "Excalibur? King Arthur's sword?"

***

"That's the one. Glad to see you know the basics of the legend." As he finished his bite, he parsed through all the information in his head about the legendary sword, thought about what he could say, then decided on simplicity. He took a deep breath and in a deep baritone, began reciting:

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,
And o’er him, drawing it, the winter moon,
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work
Of subtlest jewellery.

"Alfred, Lord Tennyson," he murmured, as a afterthought. "Perhaps overly romantic, but I don't imagine God begrudges me a little romanticism now and again.”

***

"No apologies necessary. Tennyson's one of the best and you recite him well." I put down my chopsticks to avoid eating too much too quickly and poured us both more tea. "You said you've been training yourself to wield Excalibur. What do you plan to do with her when you find her?"

I sipped my tea and settled back to hear his answer.

***

"I don't know. I expect God will let me know if I reach that point." Ezekiel did wonder, in spare moments, what came after that moment in his vision. Standing on a nameless city street, holding Excalibur in the ready position, with the feel of enemies just out of sight. Of course, literally interpreting a vision from God was like literally interpreting a Picasso painting. The Lord's vision will be clear in the end.

"In my more egotistical moments," he said, his chopsticks softly clicking as they picked up another bite of food, "I imagine myself as Excalibur, that God is honing me as his instrument of justice in this time. Excalibur as the person holding the sword rather than the sword itself. But, like all of us, I suffer from the hubris of pride upon occasion.”

His left leg spasmed under the table, sending a jolt of pain to his knee. Grimacing with pain, he laid his chopsticks down on his plate and reached down with his left hand to stabilize his leg. Thank you for the reminder, Lord. He took a deep breath to help work through the pain. "And then God reminds me that I am only human with all the weaknesses that entails. A sword can be a perfect object, especially if it is created by Him. Human beings cannot be."

***

“And yet doctrine says we’re made in His image. Created by Him. Why aren’t we perfect? Or does that get filed under the mysterious ways clause?”

I ate what I had in front of me to give him time to pull himself together. It was the least I could do after practically accusing him of unsavory intentions despite his actions in the alley and since he didn’t seem the sort that made much of his infirmity I followed suit rather than make a fuss. But still I noted his expression and tried to gauge how much his leg hurt him. I reviewed the mental map I’d made of the place since arriving and thought I’d passed a night clinic a few streets back.

Let’s not put the ship before the engine. Wait and see what he wants first.

I polished off my plate and took up my soup again.

***

The good news? He had feeling in his left leg again. The bad news was all the feeling was pain. After about thirty seconds, Ezekiel decided he was going to have to go with the kilocotin. "One second," he said, as he reached into his inside coat pocket. "Going to have to pull out the drugs."

Inside the coat pocket was his backup autosyringe full of kilocotin, which would kill the pain. Unfortunately, it would also numb the leg again for about twenty-four hours, but that wouldn't be any worse than the state of affairs since the fall in the alley. Bothering him more was the cost of the syringe. At 10 credits a dose, he hated to use it, but he wasn't going to be able to make it anywhere if he didn't. He reached down and injected himself right below the left knee. Within seconds, the cool numbing feeling spread through his knee and lower leg. He took another deep breath and let himself relax.

He reviewed the last question she had asked, wanting to get back to the conversation and away from his leg. The conversation was starting to approach philosopher territory. He considered himself more a warrior than a thinker, but he wasn't in school anymore and wasn't being tested. "Life is but a forge for the steel of our soul, Kat. We are unfinished product and intended as such. So we are perfect...perfectly unfinished.”

***

Life is sometimes transfixed by a moment of singular clarity, of pure brilliance. Of truth and joy and pain. Ezekiel’s answer to my question was one of them.

The Universe has spoken. Are you listening?

Dear God, I was nearly deafened by it. Like a perfect middle C from a ship’s engine, it resonated right through me. All around us fell a ringing silence, as if the world held its breath in the presence of something profound. Perhaps we were. I put my soup down and met his eyes across the candle.

“You will find what you’re looking for, Ezekiel. As sure as I know my name, I know this. And when you do, you will have no doubt as to your worthiness for the task. You will already know that you are.”

***

There was another moment of silence as he absorbed her response. Then it was broken briefly as their host quickly and efficiently removed their plates from in front of them, leaving the table nearly empty.

His words had clearly struck a chord with Kat and for that, he was glad. Even if he felt they had been said much better by much better men. "Thank you, Kat." Ezekiel leaned forward on his elbows in the now-empty table space and clasped his hands together. "Now, as thanks for helping me and that girl, I'd like to give you three things, if you'll accept them. I tend to do things in threes, when possible. A reminder of the Blessed Trinity." Ezekiel smiled softly and unclasped his hands in a motion of release. His face was fairly handsome when he smiled, something he probably didn't do enough of. "No commitment on your part other than just to indulge me in a moment of gratitude.”

***

I leaned out of the way as the dinner debris was cleared but held on to my tea. When we were alone he made his offer and having gotten the measure of him, I didn't hesitate.

"All right."

***

'First, for the physical realm." He put his hand inside his other inner jacket pocket and pulled out a fifty credit note. "I can spare it, you need it, end of the story." He laid it flat on the table and slowly slid it over.

***

“Zeke, I …,” was all I managed before my throat tightened, floored by his generosity. All I did was help him up, share a meal and a conversation. Hardly worth such largesse and certainly unlooked for. You don’t have to do this, I wanted to say but his expression told me it wasn’t a matter open for debate. He slid the bill over and to my shame my fingers curled around it, hiding it from view. Fifty credits was three months’ pay during flush times on my old ship. With careful husbanding and barter, I could make it last double that. I swallowed thickly and got my voice back again. “Please, this is more than enough. You don’t have to—.”

***

"The second and third things are just words, so maybe less immediately valuable than the credits," Ezekiel continued on, not letting her objections take root, "but I think in the long term, you'll get more value out of the advice." He didn't get chances often to just give someone something without the ties that bind. They'd both walk away better for their experience without having to owe the other one anything. That fact was worth the fifty credits by itself.

"So, second, for the mental side. It's clear to me that you're running. From someone or from your memories or both. And I think you know sometime you'll have to stop running," he said, miming looking over one shoulder then the other, "in order to turn around and face your pursuit."

She had faith in him and his quest and that unasked for faith would be an addition to his arsenal to help sustain him during any long moments of doubt and indecision. Time to return that favor. "I know about people, Kat and I know about journeys. So my second gift to you is to let you know that I see strength in you, like the steel in my blade. You're stronger than what you're running from. When you're ready to face it...and you'll know when that is...you're going to defeat it and come through the other side stronger than before. This is something I know here," and he tapped his forehead with two fingers. "And here," he said, tapping his chest.

***

Words have power. They can sway mobs with speeches, stir the heart with poetry and song. They carry out verdicts and declare vows. Names have power. They imbue the bearer with qualities fair or foul, hearten or discourage the spirit, determine a person's face to the world. Listening to Ezekiel, I knew he understood this more than most and I knew he spoke from conviction, from the heart, and without guile.

So I didn't interrupt him but let him speak. Respect and friendship, however unlikely its origin and circumstances, required nothing less and I gladly gave it.

That sense of the world standing still was back as I waited to hear what he had to say.

***

As Ezekiel got ready to speak again, the host (and at this point, he was assuming the owner and only waitstaff) brought them out their fortune cookies, and of course, no sign of a bill. As she wandered off, he chuckled. "Figures. No menu, no bill." He pulled a five credit bill out of the inner pocket and swapped it for his fortune cookie. He was almost certainly overpaying, but considering all the empty chairs and tables, the owner could probably use it.

He opened up his fortune cookie and the tiny slip of white paper fell into his hands. He opened it to read:

Success is a journey, not a destination.

He chuckled again as he set down the fortune. How appropriate. He looked back over the table at Kat. Her journey was a hard one, it felt like, but then again, what would be the point of an easy journey? He smiled and said, "My third 'gift' is for the spiritual. You said earlier that you and God didn't really talk. That doesn't mean that the conversation isn't going on regardless. And while you may not be like me, listening for the Lord's instructions, that doesn't mean He isn't listening. A life spent on the move is a lonely one." He knew from personal experience. "Those times when you don't have anyone else to talk to, He can be company and comfort. I was told once that God never abandons us, we abandon Him. Just something to keep in mind."

***

“Physical, mental, spiritual? Looks like you’ve covered all the bases.” I smiled a small smile and added, “I’ll keep all three in mind. Thank you.” I took up the remaining fortune cookie and cracked it open and pulled the paper from inside.

From adversity, opportunity. From folly, wisdom. From risk, trust. From conflict, peace.

I glanced briefly at the ceiling and thought at it. All right, you. Put the clue bat away. I get it. I slid the fortune to Zeke so he could read it.

“Call it Divine intervention or maybe blind luck, but I think I’m keeping this one. And since you’ve given me something, I’d like to give you something back.”

I rose and put out my hand.

“Irina Feodorovna Tigranova. Pleased to meet you.”

***

"All things in threes." He leaned over to the left and grabbed his cane in his left hand from where he had rested it on the floor. Using it to support his now-completely numb left leg, he stood up, reached forward, and shook her hand with a firm grip. "Your company has been an honor and a pleasure, Irina. I have a feeling God intends our paths to cross again someday. Until then, I will remember this conversation fondly.”

***

“As will I.” I held out my right hand and when he took it, I covered it with my left. “D’ov strichieh, Ezekiel. Til we meet again. Thank you.”

***

20 Jun 2521
Sometime later

I blinked and focused. We’d long since ceased our cool-down and were taking our ease on the mat.

“He walked out. I grabbed my duffel and did the same but by the time I’d hit the street, he’d already gone.” I quirked a grin at Joshua. “You’d’ve liked him. You and he have enough in common you’d’ve been friends and he could have taught you a few things about swordsmanship.”

***

"Yeah, I think you're right. I probably would have." Joshua would've liked to ask him about faith. He struggled to discover his own and that Ezekiel seemed comfortable in his, like a well-loved coat. "Seems ridiculous, you know. Someone on an old-fashioned holy quest. So you never saw him again, never found out whether his quest succeeded?"

***

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't doubt he's still out there, though. Still searching."

***

Joshua stood up and then offered Rina a hand up. "Well, I hope he finds it. Might as well be someone out there having success finding what they're looking for."

***

"Yeah. Might as well." I had to look away. Right now I had impossible things I was searching for and I knew I wouldn't find them.

Godspeed, Ezekiel. Wherever you are.

“Come on,” I said to Joshua, shaking off my mood. “Let’s see what we can scare up in the galley. I don’t know about you but I could use a cold drink.”

***

Go back to: Timeline Season Four, April 2521 to Dec 2521

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