Shadow's motorcycle roared through the ash that covered the ground, ashes that seemed to stretch endlessly over the rolling hills of Tweed. All vegetation had been incinerated, leaving only blackened trunks of trees to stick out of the grey ground at regular intervals. Everything but stone or brick buildings had been leveled.

There were almost no animals. Any wildlife that survived the attacks had fled to far greener pastures. Livestock stayed inside to munch hay and grain flown in by the government. Not even dogs or cats dared the devastation that was Tweed for very long.

The people, resilient as ever, occasionally popped out of what appeared to be holes in the ground, staying out only long enough to stare at the helmeted motorcycle rider. Orange flames painted on that helmet seemed to mock their plight.  The rider was glaringly out of place against the colorless, barren landscape.

A solitary building rose up against the bald skyline, incongruous with the blank-slate landscape. Shadow made for the building, coasting to give her machine time to slow and then stop before it. She tried not to stare.

Made of native stone, the building was a mere shell of what it had been built to be. Aside from the slate roof and heavy stone walls, nothing else of it existed. Wind whistled through windows devoid of any frame or glass. A man leaned against an empty doorway, surrounded by some half-dozen dogs.

Just before the motorcycle drifted to a halt, Shadow leaped from the seat, mentally ordering it to halt. A pneumatic kick stand dropped to hold the bike steady. Shadow plucked off her helmet. "Declan Miller?" she asked in her best bureaucratic voice.

"Depends on who's askin', Miss," the man drawled, his voice reflecting Scottish roots. "Declan Miller don't exactly encourage company." His tone wasn't unfriendly, exactly, but Shadow understood that he didn't intend on asking her to stay.

Shadow opened her mouth to give him her cover story, an artful fiction about a non-existent census. "Thank you, Phoenix." She clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised by the truth that tumbled out.

"I heard you the first time, Shadow." He seemed amused. "Ye are, however, most welcome. Tell me now, didja' come all this way to tell me that?"

For the first time in her career, Shadow didn't know what to say. "I, um, I guess I did."

Her gaze fell on the smallest of the dogs. It was a deep purple color, but for some reason, her brain failed to register the color as unusual. What did register was the bit of metal wedged between two of its razor-edged teeth. The dog was trying with all its might to dislodge the shard,using a long, slender tongue without success.

"You know your dog has something stuck in its teeth?" she asked instead.

"I know." Declan Miller's voice was sharp. He grimaced and held out one hand so Shadow could see the pronounced tremor that had prevented him from taking care of the problem himself.

Shadow reached into her back pocket for her all-in-one. "I can take care of that, if you want."

"I'd like that; thank ye, Shadow." He smiled at her.

Shadow realized that she really liked his smile. She snapped open the pliers from her all-in-one and approached the dog gingerly. "Watch the tail," Declan warned. "They've a really strong swing."

Shadow eyed the alligator-like tail and nodded. "Thanks for the warning. Hold still, Fella'. I'm only trying to help."

As if it understood, the dog stood stock still, holding its mouth partway open so she could reach. As she studied it, it appeared as if the metal had grown down into the animal's gums.

"Wow, that must really hurt. This won't take long, I promise." She used the pliers to grip the metal and tugged, trying to pull the metal shard up from between the razor-sharp teeth.

It didn't budge, but neither did the dog. Shadow pulled harder, keeping a steady pressure on the object. Slowly, it slid up from the root of the tooth, surprising Shadow with a small, glowing light. She blinked.

Declan Miller snatched the small device from her and flung it far behind the stone building before returning to his place in the doorway. "Thank ye, Miss . . .?"

"Sarah Mae Wentworth," she supplied, shocked by how easily the truth rolled from her in front of this man.

"Well, Sarah Mae Wentworth, you'd better get your things and come inside. The Pasta Bowls'll be here soon. You can park your bike here in the entry way if you like."

When Shadow stepped away from the dog in order to grab her gear, the dog's long tail swished around and caught her in the ankle. Shadow tripped and fell forward, landing in Declan Miller's arms. She looked up at him, thoroughly entranced by the look on his face.

Declan bent forward to kiss her, but he stopped and glared at the dog. "Knock it off, Indigo."

Shadow blinked, her mind clearing as if she'd been walking in a fog without knowing it. The dog no longer looked at all like a dog, but it did look as if it were laughing, the forked tongue rolling over sharp, jagged teeth. "What the . . .?" she started to ask.

Declan cut her off. "We'd best be getting inside, Miss Wentworth. I can explain later." Without another word, he disappeared inside the stone building that contained neither door nor window glass.

For the first time, she noticed that the animal he'd referred to as 'Indigo' could use that strong tail almost as a hand, that it was more akin to a primate's tail than an alligator's, despite the absence of feathers.

Shadow put on her helmet long enough to get the bike where she wanted it. Unless the owner was wearing the helmet, the bike was programmed to keep its brakes locked. If Shadow wanted to wheel the bike to safety, she had to put on the helmet.

Just inside the gloomy exterior, a trap door led down a ramp. Shadow coasted her bike down the ramp and left it rest on the first flat surface she encountered. As soon as it was parked, Declan closed a trap door down over them, leaving them in utter darkness until he snapped on a flashlight.

The tunnel led gradually down to another door, this one far heavier than the door he'd just closed. Shadow realized that the tunnel was a bomb shelter built to survive an aerial attack from the United Americas, her homeland. Shadow fetched her kit bag and followed Declan.

Through the blast door Shadow found a rather comfortable apartment. "Welcome to my home," Declan said quietly. "Won't you come in?"

Shadow followed him and accepted a seat at the kitchen table. "So, how do you know the Pasta Bowls are coming?" she asked him.

He grinned wryly. "Now that be a long story, Lass. We do, however, have plenty of time for the telling. Tea?"

Shadow nodded. "Please. Tea sounds wonderful after tasting ash all day."

He chuckled. "No doubt; did you really come all this way just to say thanks?" When the kettle was filled and parked on a lit burner, Declan fetched out two mugs and joined his guest at the table.

"Yeah, I did," she answered him. "I owe you my life. It seemed as though a personal visit was the least I could do."

"My return from the dead isn't exactly common knowledge," he informed her. "How'd ya find me?"

"On a whim," she grinned without actually answering, having regained her wits. "May I ask you a question?"

"Fire away." He stood up as the kettle sang its one-note song. "I'm not promising to answer though."

"Fair enough; what happened to your hands?" Shadow watched him make the tea. He was wearing an olive colored tee shirt that was obviously left over from his military service. Muscles rippled in his arms and shoulders.

"Spoilers, Miss!" he scolded, "cream or sugar?"

"Black with sugar please, and call me Shadow. My dad does." Shadow grinned at him.

Declan poured the tea and sat down, perusing her face with a serious expression. "But you're not a shadow, Sarah. Your smile is a bright ray of sunshine on such a dark day."

He scowled at the creature at his feet that clearly wasn't a dog. "Stop that!"

The creature, this one a dark blue color, gazed up at him lovingly. Shadow thought she saw a smile.

"That's fine and all, but what if it's not what I want?" He paused and groaned. "Oh fine, have it your way. You can explain it to her if that's what you want!" Another pause. "She will eventually."

"Will what?" asked Shadow curiously.

"Be able to hear them when they address you. They're Aicurs, and they don't have vocal cords; but again, spoilers."

"Sorry." Shadow watched them curiously. Clearly, they were rather devoted to the former pilot and wanted the best for him, and clearly, he was as protective of them.

"Please, will you start at the beginning?" Shadow listened to Declan describe his capture by the Spaghetti men and his incarceration.

She had a mental image of him inside a clear, yellow yo-yo shaped bubble-thing, dancing in wild contortions. The absurd image made her want to laugh, but it would have been rude to interrupt his narrative. Her merriment fled as the mental picture showed the agony in his expression. The image was replaced by the image of him falling to the floor, unable to walk or even stand. 

"That's what happened to your hands?" she asked, wondering if the mental images of his tale was a product of the Aicurs' attempt to communicate.

"It was," Declan confirmed. "I've no fine motor skills at all. I can swing a hammer with accuracy but don't ask me to hold the nail as well." He went on to describe his escape and again, Shadow could picture it in her mind, right down to the colors he hadn't bothered to describe.

"She's beautiful," she said of the pink Aicur. "What happened to her?"

The masters have put the old mother back in the display. She will die in her cage. The thought was so clear in her head, so clearly from the blue Aicur at her feet that Shadow jumped.

"What cage?"

Declan answered for the blue Aicur. "The Spaghetti men keep a zoo of sorts onboard their ships. I take it Blue answered your question?"

When she nodded, he grinned. "They sort of beam thoughts, intentions and emotions into your head, but they don't read minds and they can't override free will. They are also a people; reasonable and intelligent and no pets."

Shadow nodded her understanding. "If they don't read minds, then how do we talk to them?" she asked.

Declan grinned. "I said they've no vocal chords, not that they've no ears. And they speak English rather well."

Declan got up and went to a small television set on the counter. His fingers fumbled as he attempted to switch it on. Eventually, he managed to hit the button after his trembling fingers missed it several times. Shadow had to bite her lip in order to prevent herself from asking if he needed help.

Shadow realized as she finished her tea that the room was growing rather stuffy. On the set, an image of Declan's front door appeared, with a bright light in the distance. "How did you know they were coming?" she asked.

"That thing you took out of Indigo's mouth was a tracker. Every time I've managed to get one out, they come and incinerated the thing. I wonder if they think they're killing the Aicurs." He shook his head. "No matter either way, that was the last of them. The Aicurs are as free as we are now."

When he said that, a red Aicur came up and put her front paws on his shoulders, nearly knocking him over as she rubbed her muzzle on his chin. "You're welcome, Red!" Declan laughed as he returned the gesture.

When Red had left, Declan sat down. "Like all women, she tends to get emotional when she's pregnant. You're going to be here a while, I'm afraid. May I offer you dinner?"

"Yes, please. May I help?" The pair spent an evening preparing and eating dinner. They  shared a hearty stew, while the Aicurs ate enormous amounts of canned dog food. In the kitchen, the TV set showed the Pasta Bowls' progress until the small camera set up outside melted in the heat.

"You might just as well stay the night, I'm afraid," Declan offered as he watched the TV fuzz out. "Even after they leave, the ground will be hot enough to melt the tires off of your bike."

Shadow made a face, thinking of her last experience with the Pasta Bowls. "I remember," she said quietly. "I watched my radio melt that night, watched my ghillie suit burn with me inside of it."

Declan looked thoughtful for a moment. He left and returned with a small pile of clothing. "I doubt you've packed for an overnight, Sarah. These should about fit you if you'd like to change. The bathroom is to the left."

Shadow would indeed, like to change out of her business dress clothing, to be just 'Sarah' again for a while. She accepted the clothes, grabbed her kit bag and headed for the bathroom. Sarah was changed and just removing the makeup when Declan knocked on the door.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked politely.

"No thank you," Sarah said, but she unlocked the door and opened it for him.

He stared at her in frank admiration. "Beautiful."

Sarah stared at herself in the mirror, noting the tiny lines that the make-up no longer concealed, her too-big, borrowed sweats, wet hair not styled beyond removing the tangles. "I think the heat's addled your brain," she teased. "I wasn't expecting to hear that after I washed this stuff off.

"Now that you're Sarah Mae Wentworth and not Shadow?" teased Declan right back. He poked through her make-up case. "As I thought before, a sneak."

"Beg pardon?" Sarah countered, knowing her status was classified.

"Government 'nobodies' don't carry stage quality make-up," he pointed out, holding up a small tube, "especially not paste that yellows your teeth or pads that change the shape of cheek bones. You're not the only one that's good with a computer, Sarah," he told her. "And the 187th isn't as good at covering its tracks as you all seem to think you are."

Shadow glanced around the bathroom, feeling trapped. "You hacked my files?"

"You hacked mine," Declan pointed out. "I wanted to know who I'd given my life up for." He touched her cheek, making her flush.

"But you? How did you manage to type that fast?" She looked at his trembling hands pointedly.

Immediately, Declan stepped back. "I'll show you to your room, when you're ready."

Sarah retired soon after and Indigo followed to curl up at the end of her bed. Despite her best efforts, however, dreams haunted Sarah's sleep until the sleep fled, leaving Sarah awake and on edge. She left her bedroom and found Declan stretched out on the couch, awake and watching the clock despite the small, leather-bound book in his lap.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked. By then, the heat made the apartment stifling hot despite small fans that circulated the air.

"No, not when they're up there," he answered quietly, sitting upright. "Would you care to join me?" When Sarah neared the couch, he bit his lip. "This is going to sound awfully forward of me but, will you let me hold you, Sarah? The entire time I was up there, I didn't touch anything," he hurried to explain. "And even now . . ."

Sarah sat beside him and snuggled up, knowing the nature of people. His 'even now' might very well have been finished as 'people are afraid to be near me.'

"I think I understand," she whispered, thinking of her solitary life before she'd joined the 187th.

Declan returned to his reading. Curiously, Sarah looked at the book. It was nothing like she'd ever seen before. The pages were gilt-edged and tissue-paper thin. On the pages, the print was small, and arranged into two columns, with each paragraph numbered on the left in tiny characters.

"Declan, what book is that?" She asked curiously. "Is it a trade manual of some sort?"

He chuckled. "Nay, Lass, 'tis a Bible. Have you never seen one before?"

Sarah hadn't. "A Bible? Is it something classified, that I shouldn't be seeing? I don't want to see anything I shouldn't . . ."

"Actually, Sarah Mae," he interrupted, "it's something you desperately need to read, if you've ne'er even heard of it!"

Sarah started to sit up, but Declan wrapped an arm around her, settling her more firmly against his side. "But I'm not surprised you've not heard of it. Getting one at all was devilish hard to accomplish. Since so few people believe or even care about it anymore, they've stopped printing them at all. This one be a family heirloom from my mother's side and she's tickled pink that I'd want it.

"You see, the Bible isn't just a book, Sarah. It's the story of how we humans ended up in the terrible condition this world is in, and God's plan for getting us out of it. It's a love letter do ye see, for those of us who believe it." He ran one finger down the text. "It's divided up into books. I'm reading from Isaiah: 

'A voice of one calling in the wilderness 'prepare the way for the Lord; make straight the paths of our God in the desert. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all the people will see it together. For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.'"

He continued reading for a while, until he fell silent, obviously thinking about what he'd read. Sarah asked him about the passage and they discussed it. Declan read other verses, often flipping back and forth throughout the book as he explained about the Bible, his burgeoning faith, and the root of it. In doing so, he told her how he'd felt whenever the Aicurs had prayed for him on the ship, about how they'd taught him of God but couldn't explain salvation to him until they'd heard the relevant sections of the Bible, which they called 'the Written Word for Humans'.

As Declan explained how he'd come to find his faith, the air around them grew hotter, making it uncomfortable to breathe deeply. Sweat beaded on each of their brows and dampened their clothes, but still, Declan held Sarah close. In fact, the hotter it got, the less he seemed inclined to release her. They discussed his faith and the concept of salvation until the heat eased and breathing became easier.

Sarah listened to the unfamiliar text, to the lyrical brogue of his voice, thinking she could listen to him talk forever. When he stopped speaking, she was startled. "Oh, keep reading!" Sarah urged him. "I love hearing you talk."

"Your voice was the last thing I heard before I went inside," Declan told her. "Didja know that? The memory of it was sometimes the only thing keeping me from going insane when I wanted to give up, those three little words."

"I dreamed of you," admitted Sarah. "Almost every night at first; I dreamed we were supposed to be on a date, but I was too late and the only one to show up was Bigmouth." She explained about what had happened after he'd gone up into the ship.

"Bigmouth made it to his advantage, like he always does," Declan told her.

She nodded. "I got that impression." She tilted her face up in order to see his expression. Declan bent his head and kissed her, a brief and gentle caress that made Sarah want him to continue. "I guess I'm not too late for our date anymore," she joked when he pulled back. "Um, where're the Aicurs?"

"Sleeping," he assured her. "That one was my idea."

"It was a good idea," she told him solemnly.

He kissed her again. "I never imagined you'd be this beautiful," he whispered into her hair.

Sarah clung to him, ignoring the dampness of their clothes. "I'm glad you came back, Declan."

"Me too."

As are we. The couple parted sheepishly as the large Green came padding in from the kitchen. Declan, now that the transmitters are gone, we must meet with your leaders to discuss the attack. Sarah, we must meet with your leaders as well. The ships are leaving. The tall ones are no longer our masters. It is time to do as the Lord God commanded, back on the ship.

There was such an air of celebration to him that Sarah leaned over and hugged his neck, surprised by the strength underneath his green feathers. "I'm so glad for you, Green! For all of you."

Green seemed at a loss to understand this strange behavior. What is this? He sounded slightly suspicious, as if he wasn't sure how to take her gesture.

Declan laughed. "That's a hug, Green, a sign of affection. A hug from Sarah means she considers you a friend and wants to share in your good fortune."

Ah, so Sarah is your friend too? Green broadcast his perspective of their kiss with a quizzical air. But are not your two lands at war with each other?

"Declan risked his life to save me," Sarah attempted to explain. "It cost him his position in the Air Force, so yeah, I guess you could say we're friends."

The Tall Ones are your common enemy. Green was satisfied that he understood the situation. That works in our favor because it will give your leaders common ground when we meet with them. If they are not fighting amongst themselves, they will fight the Tall Ones that much better.

"You intend to act as a mediator?" Declan asked, clearly somewhat skeptical over Green's plan. "What makes you think anyone will listen to you, or that they will even try to hear what you have to say? No offense, Green, but you do rather look like a pet."

They will not take the Aicurs for pets, Declan. And we have a vested interest in seeing the Tall Ones defeated. The Aicurs have nowhere else to go but here. We do not intend to be slaves of the Tall Ones again. We have been given a plan, as you know.

Sarah looked at Declan. "He has a point. You saw the Spaghetti men firsthand, but Green was with them for far longer. If anyone knows how to take down the Pasta bowls, it will be the Aicurs."

"And the Aicurs have an excellent working knowledge of the ships," mused Declan, warming to the idea. "Will you stand with us, Sarah?"

The question took Shadow aback. Was she to merely abandon the 187th? Abandon the only father she'd ever known? To stand with Declan would be considered an act of treason on the part of the UA.

She'd lose everything. Sarah wasn't sure she was willing to give up everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. How could she lose Sam again, after she'd just got him back? 

"I have to go back." The look of hurt on his face pulled at Sarah's heart. "I'm sorry, Declan. I . . . I have to go." She got up and went into the bathroom to dress in her own clothes again. The Pasta Bowls had left. It would be hot outside but Sarah had to leave.

~~~

Declan watched the taillight of Sarah's motorcycle fade into the darkness. "What do I do, Green?" he asked. "I've dreamed of her so often. Here I've found reality so much better than the dream and it's slipping away."

Leave her go. I do not think she will stay away forever. She seems more mate than friend.

"Maybe someday, but will she come back in time to stop the Spaghetti Men?"

Then go after her. Green obviously wasn't sure what the problem was.

"How? I've no fine motor coordination for riding a bike like that, driving is impossible and surely you don't think I can run that fast?"

Blue joined them, having been summoned by Green and given a synopsis of the situation. Get on, Declan. I will take you to find Sarah Wentworth, wherever she has gone. If Red can carry you, then how much easier will it be for me?

"But the heat! I don't want your feet . . ."

Blue interrupted kindly. I have run on much hotter ground on my home world. There is no active fire; I will be fine. Without another word, Declan obeyed, laying over the great Aicur's back and draping his legs over Blue's tail.

I will pray for you both, Green promised as Blue shot forward into the night, following the scent of Sarah's motorcycle.

Over the ashen ground the Aicur raced. Declan strained to see anything but the wind in his face made his eyes tear up. He quit trying. "How fast are we going?"

Slightly faster than a motorbike.

Eventually, they came to the nearest train station and Blue turned onto the tracks. She left the bike and boarded a train to London, Blue explained as he ran. I cannot run as fast as the train, Declan, but I know where London is. We will find her.