RAWN by Burrows, Bonnie, Shifters, Simply (1)

RAWN

DRAGONS OF THE UNIVERSE BOOK 2

 

 

BONNIE BURROWS

 

 

Copyright ©2018 by Bonnie Burrows & SimplyShifters.com

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About This Book

 

 Introducing...

 

RAWN

 

Dragon Super Knight, Sir Rawn, had been genetically enhanced to make him stronger, smarter and SEXIER than any dragon that had ever walked on to the planet of Lacerta before.

 

However, in all his time as the number one weredragon bachelor in the universe he never found a mate.

 

And time was ticking.

 

Rawn's super genes were beginning to deteriorate and the only woman that could help him to survive was Joanna Way.

 

But whilst Joanna wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional, Rawn was more interested in making her the mate he had been searching for all of his life...

 

“RAWN” is Book 2 from the “Dragons Of The Universe” series. Each book features a new handsome dragon's quest to find his perfect mate on a planet far, far away. If you love steamy dragon romance, hot adventures and fiery thrills then you will love this!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                         

ELEVEN

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

The space liner had entered the Catalan star system, and Joanna Way could see her destination from the viewports along one side of the private cabin that her press credentials had secured for her. The blue-green, cloud-streaked planet reminded her of Earth, albeit an Earth with three moons of moderate size rather than one large moon. The nova-tossed settlers who had landed there so long ago had named it Lacerta, a name synonymous with reptiles, after the planet had changed their nature and their destiny.

What looked like a small, shining jewelry object attached to her shoulder emitted a soft, almost melodic voice: “Would you like to go over the collated data and your questions one more time as we make our final approach to the planet?”

 

“No, Epaulette,” Joanna replied to her personal AI. “We’ve been over it thoroughly by now. I think I’ve got it.”

 

Joanna may not have been as good at storing and processing information as an AI, but she had gotten the knack for memorizing things in school. Her original major was theatre, and she once saw herself becoming an actress. Taking up acting as a profession was no longer what it once was on Earth. People in the creative and performing arts no longer had to face the prospect of not being able to make a living in their right and proper profession.

 

The abolition of poverty by making every human a part of a planetary (and later, interplanetary) commonwealth and distributing monetary units and goods equally among all people had done away with that burdensome existence. Joanna would have been more than happy in the life’s work that she had first chosen for herself—if the “reporting” bug had not bitten her while she also became a student journalist for a campus media feed.

 

She had taken a sharp turn in her student days, exhilarated by the process of tracking down a story and collecting all the facts, and the satisfaction of presenting them and informing others. By the time she was three-quarters of the way through college, she had changed her mind about her career, and she had never looked back.

 

The upside of her change of professional interests was that Joanna was always completely at ease in front of a camera. This served her well because her pleasant ingenue features, accented by well-coiffed chestnut-brown hair that she wore exactly to her shoulders, were very recordable, and her on-camera manner inspired trust and confidence in whatever she had to say.

 

She was sure that she would have done well as an actress had she chosen to remain in theatre; she would have had a long and fruitful career playing leading ladies. But in reporting, she had found her element, and she had no regrets. She had interviewed planetary heads of state and the most famous men, women, and beings from more worlds than she could count. She’d had little trouble landing the assignment from the Terran News Service that employed her to cover Lacerta after the Scodax conflict and had thrown herself into the work with her usual relish.

 

Joanna wanted to hit the ground running when she reached Lacerta--even though she would not actually reach the ground of Lacerta itself until after she was finished at her initial destination, one of the Interstar Fleet spacedocks in orbit of the planet. Her initial business would be there. The Catalan system had been put under lockdown when the crisis struck, a lockdown that had yet to be fully lifted. Consequently, many civilian vessels had been stranded either on Lacerta itself or in spacedock, and those aboard the space liner with her were mostly relief workers or other journalists.

 

Virtually every ship that had entered the system since the emergency began was a Fleet vessel from one planet or another, and they had clamped down a tight security in the space surrounding Lacerta. To some extent, conditions of martial law now prevailed both on the planet itself and in the inner system. It was only to be expected when a planet faced invasion, and in the days after the invasion ended.

 

The spacedock where Joanna was headed was strictly a Fleet facility, serving only armed vessels and uniformed crews of the Fleet--and the renowned Knights of the planet in whose orbit it lay. It was here that Joanna's assignment would take her first. She hardly considered it the most interesting or challenging part of her assignment, but it only made sense to head for the spacedock first before beginning the on-planet reportage that would be the majority of her work.

 

Watching the planet through her viewports, Joanna reflected on how serene it looked, a serenity that belied the upheaval and violence that had engulfed Lacerta so short a time ago. One would never know to look at Lacerta now, with the kind of mayhem that had lately taken place on it and around it. But the facts were the facts, and Joanna calmly and quietly related them to herself. What had happened at Lacerta was just this:

 

Without warning, the armada of aliens from an unknown planet called Scodax came into the system. The Scodax had multiple goals in occupying the planet. First, they wanted Lacerta's mineral resources: specifically, its richness in the mineral compounds Draconite and Odysseum. The former was a mutagenic substance that had changed the colonists of Lacerta from common humans to something more, something that had made their Knights the most respected--and sometimes feared--warriors in space.

 

The latter was a mineral treasured throughout the civilized galaxy for its property of becoming spatially and temporally unstable under particle bombardment, which made it vital for powering interstellar travel. But there was another, more dire part of the Scodax agenda, one directly related to the planet's most famous citizens. The Scodax had come to conscript the Knights of Lacerta into their service as a conquering army.

 

Joanna wondered at the sheer audacity of the whole thing. What made the Scodax actually believe that they could impress the mighty, indomitable Knights of Lacerta into their service? What made them think the Knights would submit to being forced to battle, not for their own planet and not for Earth or any of its territories, but for a completely unknown and hostile alien power?

 

The further facts of the conflict had come to light from information provided by two of the Knights, Sir Thrax Helmer and Dame Meline Gable, and a civilian, Agena Morrow, who had been drawn into the conflict by being Sir Thrax’s selected mating partner. The Scodax who had attacked Lacerta were, in fact, the last members of their dying species, and the genetic plague that was killing them had first rendered them insane.

 

They had just enough of their faculties remaining to attack an Earth colony that was the home of powerful and fearsome warriors who would battle them to the death and take as many Scodax as they possibly could with them; warriors who would not be humbled, no matter what evil thing the Scodax did, and would never surrender. The fact that the Scodax were complete strangers to this part of the galaxy and to the beings they had tried to bring to heel only slightly mitigated the futility of what they had tried to do. The bottom-line fact of the whole matter was that the Scodax were out of their bloody minds and, thus, doomed to the utter defeat that made their extinction final.

 

Part of Joanna’s itinerary on the planet would be to interview Sir Thrax, Dame Meline, and Agena Morrow. This latter civilian, one of the most famous champions of the Sphereball competition circuit, was an especially interesting part of the story. She had been instrumental in destroying the Scodax fleet, using data that Sir Thrax had collected from the wreckage of one of the aliens’ ships. Agena Morrow’s story had become the talk of the quadrant, and Joanna was keen to sit down with her and get from the athlete herself the story of how she had faced the alien menace with Sir Thrax, who was now her lover and the prospective father of her child.

 

Joanna had met some of the Knights and Dames of Lacerta in her travels. They were strikingly beautiful and powerfully built beings with the power to morph themselves into magnificent humanoid dragons. She had also known and been friends with women who had been the lovers of Lacertan Knights. Everyone had the same estimation of the dragon warrior men: they were as ferocious in bed as they were in battle. As one of her girlfriends put it, the Knights of Lacerta were the masters of two things that began with the letter F, and one of them was fighting. Joanna had always wondered what it would be like to experience that other F with one of those mighty dragon men. 

 

 

 As a well-known mediate, she could easily have arranged it; by reputation, the Knights were always ready to cast off their metallic armor that fit like skin and bring to bear the formidable weapons of their maleness. It was one of those things that a busy and ambitious woman promised herself she would do “one of these days.”

 

For this day, however, Joanna had business of a very different sort with the Knights, and as the space liner drew closer to Lacerta, she began to make out glints of light reflected from metallic surfaces in space. Looking more closely, she saw where she would disembark first. The spacedock was a collection of elliptical-shaped segments bound together by scaffolding into the shape of a long tube or tunnel. The ellipse at the middle of the row of linked segments was broader than the others and contained the control and administration centers of the dock.

 

Inside the hollow of the tunnel lay the individual docks and ports with ships moored at them, and heated transparent domes of artificial atmosphere on the docks themselves. The ellipses also contained interior docking bays for the ships that transported passengers and personnel between the planet and the spacedock. Here and there along the row of ellipses, a craft would emerge and make for the planet, or swoop in from the planet to enter the dock, and it all looked a bit as if the structure were being buzzed by fireflies. Eventually, Joanna would be aboard one of those fireflies which would take her down to Lacerta.

 

 

For now, her interest was in what lay near the farthest end of the spacedock from where she was approaching. Nestled among the ships, there was a large receiving bay that had just been installed. Inside this container, which was the size of a starship, were the parts of Scodax spaceships that had blown themselves to pieces in orbit and had been painstakingly collected by ships of the Fleet for disposal.

 

Part of the relief effort was to remove the Scodax debris from the orbit of Lacerta to prevent it from becoming a hazard to navigation and a danger to satellites and space stations over the planet. This project had begun almost as soon as the planet itself was secured and the wounded were brought to treatment and the casualties began to be rounded up. The Interstar Fleet was nothing if not efficient.

 

Joanna guessed that, even now, there were ships outside her field of view and round the other side of the planet still rounding up the parts of Scodax craft to be taken to spacedocks like this for disposal. On the surface of it, Joanna found this the least interesting part of her assignment. She would have to find an angle on it, or some particular spin on it, to bring it to life for the people across space who would be watching her reports.

 

Settling back into her seat and focusing her attention for now on the planet, Joanna sighed softly. No doubt when she got to the spacedock, she would come up with what she needed. She always thought of something.

_______________

 

Joanna and the other mediates from other news services, some belonging to extraterrestrial species, disembarked from the ship once it moored itself inside the spacedock. They walked quickly down an enclosed tunnel connecting the ship to a platform on the dock. The dock was a spacious and brightly-lit area of columns and statues that looked like marble, where a tall and powerful-looking bearded older man stood with arms folded, waiting for them. The multicolored armor skin that he wore and the hilt of the power blade attached at his waist indicated that he was a knight.

 

The four colors of his armor skin—black, red, silver, and gold—were the tokens of his position as a Mentor. He was one of those who trained initiates to the Knighthood and gave the lower-ranking Knights their marching—or flying—orders. He smiled cordially at the approaching members of the media as they stepped forward.

 

“Welcome to Fleet Spacedock Lacerta Five,” said the Mentor. “I am Sir Dartan Embry. You’ll be interviewing me. I’ll be your guide aboard the Spacedock and down the far end where the laser disposal of the Sacrox debris will be taking place. I’m sure you’ll have some initial questions, so please put them to me now.”

 

By this time Epaulette had detached itself from Joanna’s shoulder and was hovering near her, recording everything she saw and ready to capture everything that was said. Joanna spoke up first. “Sir Dartan, what can you tell us about the Scodax armada having a self-destruct program that would destroy every ship if even one was captured? Isn’t it true that no Scodax ships were captured at all, and that the armada was destroyed from inside with captured information?” 

 

“I’m sure, by now, that everyone has seen those reports,” answered Sir Dartan. “Those accounts are accurate, yes; the Scodax had a self-destruct code that triggered the destruction of their entire armada in the event that one ship was captured, and this was the code that our Knights and one civilian woman, Agena Morrow, used against them.”

 

A brown-skinned man to Joanna’s left asked, “But Sir, isn’t that a highly extreme measure? Didn’t the Scodax actually defeat themselves that way?”

“In normal military thinking,” said the Mentor, “that’s exactly what they did. They forfeited any chance at victory by thinking and planning so absolutely. But everything we’ve learned about the Scodax suggests there was nothing ‘normal’ about them in a military frame of mind or any other. They were a suspicious and paranoid people, xenophobic even among their own species. They were unable to live together and accept the differences among their own kind, which left them scattered into isolated tribes across space and vulnerable to the genetic plague that drove them mad and took their lives.

 

 

It’s very tragic on the face of it, but in a way, they were already defeated, doomed before they even arrived. If they’d been saner, we might have been able to help them. But they attacked in lieu of asking for help, and so they ensured their doom.”

 

A woman behind Joanna chimed in: “Mentor, how much of the wreckage of the Scodax vessels has been collected so far?”

 

“We’re making excellent progress on that, thanks to assistance from the Interstar Fleet,” said Sir Dartan. “The debris on the planet is being quickly rounded up and collected into central locations outside the settlements and cities. From there, it will be loaded onto freighter ships and carried up to spacedocks like Lacerta Five for disposal. Here in orbit, I’d say we’ve collected about one-third of the Scodax wreckage, and we’re working round the clock to gather up the rest of it. Collecting the parts in space has been a priority, since the longer the space around the planet is littered with alien debris, the more hazardous it will be to visit or leave Lacerta.”

 

A being with blue and black skin and a fin-like crest on his head spoke next. Joanna recognized this mediate as a Murylian. “Sir Mentor, what of the bodies of the Scodax themselves and their android soldiers? What is being done with them?”

 

 

“That’s a very significant question,” replied Dartan. “As you may already be aware, the only Scodax in the armada were aboard the lead ship, or the ‘mastercraft,’ where Sir Thrax and his companions were held. None of their bodies have been recovered. Had we found any of them, we would have preserved them for study, to learn more of the plague that was killing them and whether such a genetic disorder, or a similar one, could affect other life in the galaxy.

 

It appears that a general acceptance of diversity among beings is the best preventive measure against what happened to the Scodax. We have collected parts of android bodies from ships that self-destructed on Lacerta. The parts are so severely damaged, and so fragmentary, that they’ll never function again. It’s unlikely that our engineers will ever learn anything about the aliens’ technology from what little we’ve recovered.

 

The android parts will be kept as museum specimens and lent out for exhibition on other planets, but we don’t expect to have any other use for them. The menace of the Scodax will not be forgotten, but we’re confident that it’s behind us now. And now, I’m sure you’ll all want to see the process of disposal of the alien debris get under way.”

 

 

A levitating conveyor sled, long enough for the dozen mediates present and the Mentor himself, pulled up behind Dartan. The young Knight piloting the sled and Dartan acknowledged each other with nods, and the Mentor stepped to one side, gesturing for the mediates to climb aboard the sled. The members of the press filed quickly into the vehicle and sat down, and in a few minutes, the sled was off down a long corridor running along one side of the spacedock.

 

The sled took them to the central ellipse, the largest and broadest segment of the spacedock structure. Mediates and Mentor climbed off the sled and into a lift that was just large enough to accommodate the entire group. The lift quickly conveyed them up the arch of the segment and opened up in an interior space of the ellipse.

 

This place was even more spacious than the dock they had just left. It was appointed with a large desk, statues, and potted vegetation taken from the planet. On its walls hung holopaintings of the leaders of Lacerta, past and present, scenes of the planet, and depictions of its history. There were long, wide viewports looking out from the summit of the spacedock structure onto space and the planet.

 

In the center of this chamber were enough plush and comfortable chairs for everyone to be seated, facing a large hologram of a monitor screen. Dartan had his guests sit down and make themselves comfortable while he took a position standing between them and the monitor. Joanna guessed that this was Dartan's office or some other official meeting place for Mentors of the Knights.

 

"I'm now going to show you where the disposal process will be taking place," the Mentor announced. "If you'll watch the monitor, please."

 

The glow of the hologram brightened, then resolved itself into a different view of the corridor of spacedock segments. The camera's point of view tracked down the corridor to the far end of Lacerta Five, where the entire space was taken up with an immense, box-like metallic enclosure. At the top of this construct, a cylindrical structure was mounted in front of viewports.

 

With Epaulette still floating and recording at her shoulder, Joanna watched and listened as the Mentor spoke again. “What we’re about to show you is the interior of the laser disposal unit.” The picture on the monitor changed on cue to give a better look at the cylindrical structure attached to the unit. “There, in the laser control pod, our people will be working with the lasers that we’ll be using for the job. As you know, spacedocks are not only for docking craft in orbit. They also provide cleaning services.

 

Laser ablation removes accumulated cosmic dust and dirt from the hulls of spacecraft and helps to restore the condition of the hull. What we’re going to do with the ablating lasers in this task is not to clean the parts of the Scodax craft we’ve collected, but disintegrate or vaporize them with the lasers operating at their highest power level, which we hardly ever have occasion to use.

 

This task will be performed entirely in orbit to provide maximum safety for the planet. Collected debris will be loaded around the clock into disposal units, like this one we’ve constructed, and disintegration will continue until Lacerta and its surrounding space are clean of Scodax wreckage. And now, we’ll show you the inside of the unit.”

 

The picture changed again. The cavernous interior of the disposal unit was filled with jagged fragments, burned and mangled and twisted and pitted, that had once been the hull parts, interior systems, and other devices and fixtures of Scodax vessels. They reminded Joanna of the cracked and discarded shell parts of terrestrial crabs and lobsters after someone’s meal. Armatures, four in all, extended downward from the upper corners of the unit, and on these were mounted laser devices, their firing ends glowing red.

 

Though Joanna had not expected to find this part of her job as interesting as what awaited her on the planet, she suddenly found herself somewhat intrigued. Not long ago, what lay inside that disposal unit was active, fully operational spacecraft, operated by fully functional androids and living Scodax.

 

Those shattered remnants had once been ships that brought sudden, shocking terror to a planet. They had blasted buildings and homes, turned places where people lived into places of carnage, caused widespread pain and death, and spurred furious upheaval and battle. The people of

Lacerta would, no doubt, find it cathartic to see what had caused so much destruction finally destroyed.

 

 

Joanna felt a bit of that catharsis even now. That, she thought, would make a fine “hook” for her story. After watching this display, she wanted to get out among the personnel on Lacerta Five for their reactions. Yes, that would personalize the whole thing for her audience. Satisfied at knowing how she would go forward, she smiled and waited.

 

"The crew has been steadily charging the lasers to the energy level required for the job," said Dartan. "The charging will be completed in just a moment; then, you'll be able to watch the complete disintegration of the debris. In addition to cleaning up the planet and its orbit, this will have an added benefit. The energy released in the ablation process will be channeled into special capacitors that will supply additional power to the spacedock. Everything will be efficient; nothing will be wasted. Stand by now, and you'll see."

 

So, the group of reporters waited patiently and noticed a throbbing of light from the ends of the lasers. The red glow brightened and turned white, which Joanna was sure meant they were ready to fire. She held her breath and watched. At once, rays of pearly brilliance leapt from the ends of the lasers into the interior of the metal cavern. Instantly, they struck the jagged parts of the Scodax ships, and where they touched, the wreckage lit up with a glow to match the lasers. Sparks ricocheted all across the tangle of broken parts. It became a fireworks display enclosed in metal walls. Joanna squinted at the image and thought she could see the Scodax wreckage starting to disappear into the pulsating glow...

 

...and then the entire hologram turned white--a cruel, all-consuming white, a white that bled from the edges of the screen and surged out into the room. All the mediates found it an impressive display and anticipated that, when the whiteness at last faded, nothing would be left on the monitor but the inner walls of the disposal unit, a lingering glow, some sparks, and the laser devices themselves, spent for the moment at the completion of their job.

 

Instead, there was a sound like the thunder of a hundred storms at once. The noise ripped through the ears and body of everyone present, making the group start and flinch. At the same time, the monitor hologram flashed more brightly yet, then flickered and vanished. Joanna gasped and heard a few people cry out around her.

 

Dartan staggered in front of where the monitor had been--and staggered all the more, almost toppling onto the floor, when a tremendous crashing sound came and a shock wave hit the chamber so hard that people, Joanna included, were nearly knocked from their seats. Dartan himself was thrown off his feet. The plants and trees in their pots were toppled and spilled onto the floor.

 

Screams filled the room when, in the midst of a lurch that felt as if the entire spacedock were being shaken, a huge, jagged piece of metal ripped through the wall facing the mediates, cleaving it like the tooth of some impossible beast. The room shook again from the monstrous metallic tearing of the wall. Dartan flung himself back while the mediates leaped from their seats and either dove behind them or dashed for the far end of the chamber.

 

Terrified and confused, Joanna jumped up while Epaulette quickly reattached itself to her shoulder. The cries of the other mediates echoed Joanna's own shout: "What happened? What's going on?"

 

Steadying himself against a toppled ceramic planter whose miniature tree now lay on its side, and pulling himself up from the floor, Dartan touched his badge and called, “Status report!”

 

An anxious male voice answered, “Mentor, some kind of reaction happened when the ablating lasers hit the Scodax material. It triggered an explosion that blew apart the containment unit. Spacedock systems are being affected: massive cascade failure in power systems, damage to structural integrity…”

 

The voice suddenly cut off. There was another huge, bone-jarring lurch and a terrible ear-crunching sound of things tearing themselves apart. It hammered its way through the room and knocked people off their feet all over again. The entire place tilted violently to one side.

 

The force of it slammed Joanna onto the floor between the chairs, which were somehow clamped to the floor and not toppled. People went scrambling for cover, either down between the chairs or desperately behind the fallen stalks and fronds of the overturned planets. Some of them dove behind the desk, which was also held in place by some means and was the largest undisturbed thing in the room—so far.

 

The room continued to shake and rumble ominously. Breathlessly, Joanna scrambled up between the seats and half-staggered her way to the desk, crouching behind several of her gasping and wincing colleagues. She peered over them and over the desk to see Dartan bringing himself upright again.

 

Scanning the room to see where all the people were, he called, “I want everyone to gather at the entrance. I’ve lost internal communication, but the spacedock must be being evacuated. We’ve got to hurry; I don’t know how much longer we’ll have life support and structural integrity. Everyone, come this way.” He started toward the portal to the lift, looking over his shoulder to make sure that people were following his directions.

The people behind the desk started to come shakily to their feet, Joanna among them. Her colleagues began to make their way with an unsteady gait along the trembling deck. As calmly as she could, Joanna joined them. They walked as best they could with all the shaking going on. Joanna looked over her shoulder at the viewport at the planet Lacerta, wondering if she would actually manage to make it down there. No, she admonished herself, think positively…

 

She had just gone a few steps when there was another terrible crash and the worst sound of ripping and tearing that Joanna or anyone else had ever heard. Another hard tremor hammered the room—and a section of the ceiling tore itself free and came down like an avalanche right in front of Joanna, into the space where three other mediates were walking. The three of them disappeared in a hail of pieces and fragments along with one huge piece of structure. 

 

 

 

 

Screaming in shock, Joanna lunged backward and fell on her bottom. For a moment, her vision was a blur and her ears were filled with the sounds of crashing and shattering. When she could see clearly again, all that she could make out were clouds of dust and heaps of debris. The people right in front of her were gone, crushed and smothered under pieces of spacedock structure that had nearly buried her. Joanna’s mouth opened wide, but no sound came out but a choked whimper.

 

Somewhere in the conflagration, Joanna heard Dartan’s voice call to someone, “Keep moving! Don’t stop! Keep moving!” Coughing, heart pounding, Joanna forced herself back to her feet and resolved to move forward and find some way through the dust and smoke and whatever else lay in front of her, and reach where she heard the Mentor’s voice coming from. She visualized whoever was not crushed or knocked unconscious joining the Mentor at the open doors of the lift, and pictured herself joining them. And she moved.

 

Joanna could just make out, through parting clouds of dust, the shape of Dartan, waving other shapes along. “That’s it! Hurry, now! Hurry…” She saw Dartan’s gaze come in her direction, saw him waving to her, encouraging her. What appeared to be a large ceiling beam lay between her and him, and she meant to try to climb over it, hoping that she would not be tripped up by other debris that she could not see.

 

And then, with the most terrible cracking sound she had heard yet, Joanna felt the floor come out from under her. She flailed her arms in the air, clutching and grabbing at nothing, even as there was suddenly nothing under her feet. Her stomach felt as if it were plummeting inside her body—and her body itself physically went with it.

 

She gave out another scream, arms and legs now flailing together, as all she could see was a whirl of dust and debris, and in whatever part of her mind could still think, she knew she was in free-fall. Flashes of what could happen in the next few seconds erupted in her head. Some collapsing deck below her could suddenly end her fall—and her life.

 

She could hit some outcropping piece of structure and be run through, and hang there impaled while the spacedock crumbled around her. Or there could be nothing below her at all; she could simply fall out into space and suffocate and freeze while her blood boiled in the vacuum. All of that happened in her head in perhaps a couple of seconds…

 

And as suddenly as she’d fallen, she was no longer falling.

 

Some blur of motion came out of nowhere. Something came swooping under her and gathered her up. In the whooshing din around her, Joanna could just make out the sound of wings beating powerfully, and all at once, she felt herself being borne upward. The same small presence of mind that had flashed forward to her death now gathered whatever shreds of information she could find out of the calamity.

 

 

There were arms around her—strong reptilian arms. Near her face was someone’s broad chest, armored and colored and badged. Over her face were a long reptilian neck and a massive, horned head. She saw the jaws of the reptile open wide, and flinched incredulously as, from that mouth, leapt a massive, searing jet of yellow-white flame.

 

Her eyes followed the path of the bolt of fire forward to a cascade of huge metal pieces falling in their path, silhouetted by the fires of the spacedock in upheaval and collapse around them. Where the flaming jet struck it, the raining metal turned molten and fell away, rendered into smaller pieces while the being carrying her plunged through the space where the debris parts had been.

 

 Other huge chunks of spacedock structure fell down before them, and each in turn was blasted through by the breath of Joanna’s flying rescuer. Totally dazed, Joanna went limp in the arms that held her, and everything around her faded to darkness.

 

Through a whirl of incoherent sensations came the impression of flying quickly upward while escaping air roared all around her. Then, the half-impressions of things being torn asunder stopped. Everything was calm, and she felt herself being lowered onto a soft but solid surface that was not shaking or rocking under her. Joanna lay there, still and dizzy and still not seeing anything clearly, and heard the sound of footsteps quickly walking a few steps away. There was the feeling of movement—a feeling that suggested whatever place in which she lay was pulling out and away from another place. Everything went dim and dark and quiet after that.

 

At some point, Joanna opened her eyes again. She blinked, made herself focus, and found herself lying on a small bed attached to the interior wall of what she recognized as a spaceship. There was a viewport to one side of her, and she dragged herself up to look out of it with bleary eyes. Outside lay the clouds and surface of the planet Lacerta. Then, Joanna sensed a presence on the opposite side of her. She turned herself around on the bed to look behind her—and there he was.

 

“I am Sir Rawn Ullery, Knight of Lacerta,” he said. “The Lacerta Five spacedock has been lost, but you’re safe with me.”

 

Joanna blinked again and made herself see the armored figure clearly. He was, in a word, incredible. He was clad in three-colored armor skin, lacking only the gold of a Mentor’s rank. Like all Lacerta Knights’ armor, his top hooked round the back of his neck and the small of his back, leaving his entire back open for the wings and tail that he would have if he were in his dragon form.

 

His arms were bare with bands around his biceps. The hilt of his powerblade attached to his waist at one side. His hands were gauntleted with the same skin-like metallic fabric of his armor. His stubble-darkened face was warmly handsome; it spoke of quiet, strong nobility and gentleness all at once. His eyes were pools of darkness that radiated both concern and confidence. 

 

He had an edge of sensuality, if not raw sex, about him that was further reflected in the shape of his body. He was tall and powerfully muscled, without a gram of fat. The frame packed into that armor was all muscle and sinew. The arms and legs were large and breathtakingly sculpted. The armor skin clung sensuously to a chest and stomach that looked as if anything hurled against them would bounce right off. Across his face played looks of strength and weariness and some distant, nameless sorrow.

 

In a feeble, stammering voice, Joanna said, “The spacedock…gone?”

 

“Yes,” said Sir Rawn. “I’d only just arrived when the explosion happened. I had my ship’s sensors scan the explosion for anyone that I could help. I piloted my ship into the interior of the spacedock with shields up, which I lowered just long enough to get out and help the one person my sensors picked up who was in the most immediate danger. I wish I could have helped more, but it was too late; the spacedock was coming completely apart. Life support was minimal; artificial gravity was failing. There was nothing more I could do.”

 

He shut his eyes and drew a heavy breath, bowing his head. “So many are lost, so many I couldn’t help.” He opened his eyes again and fixed them on her. “At least I was able to get you out. That’s something. I’m sorry for the others. If I’d gotten here sooner…”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Joanna said breathlessly. “You did get me. And…thank you, Sir Rawn.” She blinked again and tilted her head. “Wait… Sir Rawn Ullery, you said?”

 

“Yes,” he replied. “And you are…?”

 

“Joanna Way. I’m a mediate. I was covering the…,” she trailed off again, scrambling in her head to gather up information, and suddenly she remembered something. “There were pieces of the dock falling in front of us. I thought we were going to hit them, but… There was fire, this blast of fire. It came from…” She clapped her eyes hard on him, the delirium of what she had just been through now falling away as Lacerta Five had fallen away around her. “It came from you! You…you breathed fire and melted the…” Her mouth hung open speechlessly for a second before she managed to say, “There was only one weredragon who could ever actually breathe fire…”

 

“I am Sir Rawn Ullery,” the Knight repeated.

 

“But…but that was back in the…back in the wars with…,” Disbelieving, Joanna sat up straighter, her trauma forgotten as her reporter’s instincts took hold. “You’re Sir Rawn Ullery?”

 

“I am,” he said once more.

 

The inside of the spaceship was quiet now. A thousand questions formed in Joanna Way’s mind, and she fought for her voice. Dozens of old stories that she and every citizen of Earth knew went rolling and careening around inside her head. Joanna had been to so many worlds and met so many men, so many beings, the greatest and the best and the brightest in Commonwealth space, but in all her work and in all her travels, she had never been face-to-face with anyone like the man who stood with such calm, quiet pride before her now.

 

Until now, she had never met a legend.

 

 

 

 

 

Joanna, sitting on the edge of the bed in the spacecraft, remembered aloud, “Sir Rawn Ullery. But it’s been fifteen years. It was fifteen years ago, the end of the wars with the

Chimerians. You took your ship into the Chimerian warp nexus to destroy it from the inside…”

 

“…and sacrificed my life to stop the spread of the Chimerians across space,” the Knight finished for her. “At least, that was what I meant to do, what I was prepared to do. But the universe had other plans.”

 

“Everyone thought you’d died stopping them,” said Joanna, looking up at Rawn, still trying to comprehend what had happened and what was happening. “People mourned. I was still just a girl, but I remember the people crying, the memorials all over space. There was a week when the Knights and the Corps of Lacerta all wore black; I remember that.”

 

 

“I expected that,” said Rawn. “I knew I’d be presumed dead. I thought there would be some sort of honor. I didn’t know there’d be such a display.”

 

“What did you think people would do?” Joanna asked. “You were the most admired man in space. Everyone looked up to you.”

 

“I was a Knight doing my duty,” he said.

 

“You meant more than that to people,” Joanna said. “If anyone had thought it was possible to survive the collapse of artificial wormholes that powerful…”

 

“There would have been search parties looking for me in over half the galaxy, using personnel and resources better spent on protecting and serving the living,” said Rawn. “And they would have had no idea where to search. I was thrown so far away, and randomly. I was fortunate that the spacetime explosion only threw me as far as it did. 

 

I could still be trying to get home from a much more remote sector. I had no way of getting a message back to tell the Knighthood that I still lived. I fended for myself as best I could and made the best possible time. I had just reentered Catalan when the Fleet spacedocks began to explode.”

 

Joanna gaped at the thought. “You mean it wasn’t just Lacerta Five?” Then, she realized: “No, all the Fleet spacedocks were taking part in the disposal. They all had Scodax ship parts aboard.” A look of dread came over her. She slumped where she sat. “All of them. All those people. Oh no…”

 

Rawn said, “I know nothing of Scodax or what was aboard the spacedocks that destroyed them. I know only that countless comrades I’ll never meet have died today. I’ll stand with those who escaped and honor our dead—when we get back planet-side. I’ll be landing my ship now.” He knelt down on one knee before her, looking so gallant in spite of the weariness on his features, the weariness of a Knight who had been through something she could not even imagine. He put the fingers of one gauntleted hand under her chin and lifted her face to meet his. “Joanna Way, you are safe now. You were correct before. For all that I could not save, at least I have saved you, and for that, I am grateful. Lie down now, and I will take us back to the Spires.”

 

A quiet moment passed between them. Joanna, mesmerized by his Knightly handsomeness and subtly tingling from his muscled and manly presence as if it were a physical force emanating from him, acknowledged his words with a small nod. She leaned back and stretched out on the bed, where he must have rested for all these years during his long journey home. She shut her eyes, and in her mind rang the words, Fifteen years…

 

Rawn stood up and walked away. Joanna heard his footfalls receding to the bow of the ship, where the controls must be. Her thoughts turned hazy again.

_______________

 

The Spires, the headquarters of the Knights of Lacerta in the city of Silverwing, greeted Rawn’s identification with an even greater incredulity than Joanna did. The usual protocol for an incoming craft requesting to land at the Spires was a computer check of the ship’s registry and serial codes.

 

But when the pilot of the craft identified himself as Sir Rawn Ullery, the communications center at the Spires added the measure of having an inbound flight controller personally do a remote scan of Rawn’s retinas via monitors on his end and theirs and checking the scan against their records.

 

In a numb and hushed voice, the controller cleared Rawn’s approach and touchdown. Rawn mentally began to prepare himself for the reactions he would get when he landed and stepped out onto the surface of his home planet for the first time in a decade and a half.

 

When his ship, the Justice Claw, landed, it was a vessel in stark contrast to the other ships in the Spires landing field. Its hull was faded, darkened, streaked with dirt and crusted with dust from the length of time that Rawn had been away. It showed small dents and pits and burns from encounters with things and beings unknown to Lacerta or any Earth-allied world, hostile things that Rawn had faced in his travels and done his best to put behind him.

 

The ship was intact but would take much refurbishing. Perhaps it would be decommissioned altogether. All these thoughts Rawn pushed to the back of his mind as he let Joanna climb down the ramp and onto the paving ahead of him.

 

Climbing down from the Justice Claw, Joanna looked out into a sea of faces and uniforms standing between the landing space and the towers of the Spires on the other side of the field. Epaulette lifted itself from her shoulder and immediately began to record, taking in the unfolding history of which Joanna was now a part even as she documented it. Joanna felt her skin turn to goosebumps from the soft, cool breeze in the air and the charge of anticipation around her, an energy that was almost tangible.

She searched the faces of the gathered Knights and, on each one, she found what she could describe only as a look of mixed awe and reverence. The stories of the man they were about to see had become a part of the education of every Knight and every schoolchild. Not a whole generation had gone by since Rawn disappeared and was thought to be gone forever, but the years had turned to history, and the name of Sir Rawn Ullery had grown bigger than the man himself.

 

Joanna stepped to one side and looked up the ramp that she had just descended, Epaulette turning with her to capture what she was seeing. This was truly a moment to record, a moment that would not be forgotten. The tall, muscular shape appeared in the darkened hatch and stepped forward onto the ramp.

 

He walked down and out into the open, and the light of the star, Catalan, shone at last on the face of Rawn Ullery’s as he took his first breath of Lacertan air in so very long. He shut his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and feeling Catalan’s warmth, as if to convince himself that he was truly home. And then, the cheering started.

 

It hit him like a wave of something in the air, like a physical presence breaking against him and flowing all around him, the voices and hand-claps of comrades he had never met, who held him to be their brother all the same. Rawn paused halfway down the ramp and looked out onto the throng of men and women wearing the shining colors of the Knighthood.

 

He looked solemn and yet warm, appreciating their welcome after so long alone, so many years without ever setting eyes on a fellow Knight. Inside, he wept at the sight and sound of them. This moment had lived in his heart for so long, he felt as if he would dissolve into un-Knightly tears now it was here.

Instead of weeping, Rawn walked proudly the rest of the way down the ramp to the paving and stood on the ground of Lacerta for the first time since the day he willingly offered up his life to protect it. His heart raced and leaped at the feeling of his world under his feet. He made his way past Joanna, who stood dutifully recording the scene, and walked a few feet forward.

 

Then, after his first few steps, he paused, drew the hilt of his powerblade and thumbed its activator, and lifted high the glowing sword of power that extended from it. He stood before the gathered Knights, holding the radiant weapon over his head in tribute, and continued to drink in the sounds of their cheers and applause. Sir Rawn Ullery was home—home at last.

 

Joanna kept her place a couple of meters behind Rawn and circled round in an arc, Epaulette remaining over her shoulder, to capture what happened next. Rawn retracted his shining blade and reattached it to his armor, and at once, his peers came forward to greet him. The long-lost Knight was quickly surrounded on three sides by smiling well-wishers, the ones in front reaching out to shake his hand, the ones farther back straining and craning about to get a better look at him.

 

A chorus of excited, wonder-struck voices welled up. And front and center, addressing Rawn directly, was a female in Mentor colors. “Epaulette,” said Joanna, “select audio input for the Sir Rawn and the Mentor.”

 

The AI adjusted its sensor-recorders to capture specifically the exchange between Rawn and the female in front, whose coloring suggested an ancestry in the Asian continent on Earth. She shook Rawn’s hand warmly and introduced herself. “Sir Rawn, I am Dame Sienna Oda, Mentor of the Knighthood. On behalf of the Knighthood, the Spires, and the Ruling Aerie, let me be the first to welcome you officially back to Lacerta. Welcome home, Sir Knight. Welcome home.”

 

Rawn gave a slight, modest bow of his head. “Thank you, my Dame Mentor. It’s good to be home. I never lost faith that I would see this day.”

 

“Spoken like a Knight,” said Dame Oda. “Let me show you to the quarters at the Spires. We’ll have a maintenance crew out to assess your ship and take it for repairs. I expect we may want to put it on display in the Spires Museum…”

 

While speaking, the Dame ushered Rawn across the paving to the grounds of the Spires on the other side, and the Knights who had rushed out to meet Rawn with the Mentor kept pace, watching him with rapt fascination and hanging on his every word. Joanna kept up behind them, continuing to marvel at the history taking place in front of her.

_______________

 

If Rawn had wanted to weep at his arrival on Lacerta, the sight of the Spires as he, Dame Oda, and the little throng of other Knights walked onto the grounds only doubled the feeling. The time that he had spent here still lived in his heart. This was where he first presented himself to the Mentors as an initiate for training. This was where he had lived, studied, worked, trained, made friends, and even found his first lovers as a young dragon male. He first donned the silver uniform of a newly minted Knight in this place, and it was to this place that he came to have black and red added to his armor skin.

 

And it was at the Spires that Rawn received the fateful Mythos Formula that enabled him to become the first—and as fate would have it, the only—weredragon ever to breathe fire in his reptilian form like the dragons of ancient stories. How well he remembered the kindness of Dr. Phifer, the human who created the Formula—and the treachery of Dr. Sabian, who murdered Phifer and destroyed his work. Sabian had made a mortal enemy of Sir Rawn Ullery that day—an enmity that came to an end on that later, terrible day when Sabian met the fate he had earned at Rawn’s hand, and Rawn himself disappeared in his hour of triumph, never to return. Or so the galaxy thought.

 

 

Rawn’s heart both sang and wept to see the Spires now, in the wake of the battles with the Scodax, for many were the times he had conjured up the sight of this place when he was alone, so far from home. The Spires was, in fact, a colossal, jewel-like pyramid with gleaming towers reaching for the sky at three corners and a circular, dome-like entrance way at the remaining corner. It was most magnificent at dawn and at dusk, when the setting Catalan Sun made it sparkle and shimmer with tons of gold and peach. It nestled among groves of trees and labyrinths of hedges, and the grounds were all in shining tile mosaics arranged into pictures of serpents and dragons of yore.

 

That was the way Rawn remembered it. But the glory of the Spires was tarnished now in the wake of the violence that had lately come to Lacerta. Two of the towers were broken, the tops blasted from them, and the pyramid itself had huge, long cracks across its alabaster faces. Many parts of the tiled grounds all about were blasted to pits of blackened rubble. Trees all across the grounds were snapped in two, or snapped and burned; and so many places on the immaculate green lawns had become craters or scorched places. Coming onto the pathways that he had walked so many times, Rawn slowed his pace and looked around, taking in the sight of the wounded majesty of the Spires, until he could not walk another step and only stood still with a pained expression and a hung head.

 

Dame Oda put an understanding hand on his shoulder and said, “I know how you must feel now, Sir Rawn. It’s enough to break the heart of the strongest among us. But the Spires still stand, and the Knights still fly, and with them stands and flies the strength of Lacerta itself. And we’ll be all the stronger with you in our ranks again.”

 

Rawn lifted his head to face her, and in spite of himself, his eyes had turned moist. “Thank you, my Dame Mentor. I’m only proud to see the Spires broken but still standing, and our Knights as firm and undaunted as ever.”

 

“As we will always be,” said the Dame.

 

Still hanging back to witness it all, Joanna could not help but smile. Her admiration of Rawn overtook her objectivity as a reporter. What a man he was, and what a dragon: proud and unbowed, yet humble. Noble and dignified, strong but not haughty or arrogant. A man among men, a warrior among warriors, moved almost to tears—she could tell by the slight crack in his voice—to find that his home had stood up to violent aggression and come through it shaken but unbroken. Much like the man and the dragon himself. Yes, what a man.

 

The group began to move again, and Joanna with them. As they approached the entrance dome of the Spires, something caught Rawn’s eye, and he stopped again.

 

At the end of an oblong courtyard facing the entrance stood three statues, two at either end and one in the middle. Halting in his stride, Rawn peered curiously at the middle statue.

 

“I don’t remember that being there,” he said.

 

Dame Sienna replied, “The center statue? We commissioned it after the Chimerian Wars ended. It’s stood there ever since.”

 

Rawn broke away from the Mentor and the rest of the group to walk down the courtyard towards that statue. Sensing the importance of this moment, Joanna moved along behind him, not wanting to miss a second of what unfolded. Rawn stopped a few paces from that statue, which towered over him on a marble pedestal, and looked up—into his own face, wrought in alabaster.

 

His eyes traveled down the pedestal to the simple words carved by lasers into the marble: IN MEMORY AND HONOR OF SIR RAWN ULLERY, GREATEST OF DRAGON KNIGHTS.

 

He stood like a statue himself, eyeing his own likeness and the words carved into the marble. And he shook a bit, as if feeling the weight of fifteen years’ absence, fifteen years alone in a space that was not his home. He breathed heavily and trembled harder.

 

In a moment, Dame Sienna and the other Knights were at his back. Without taking his eyes from his doppelganger in stone, Rawn sensed them near him and said, “This has been here…all this time?”

 

“Since the year you disappeared,” said the Dame.

 

“This was not necessary,” Rawn said. “I was only a Knight doing my duty. I accepted the Formula, I accepted the responsibility. I did nothing more than any other Knight would have done.”

 

“You have never been just any other Knight,” Dame Sienna replied. “Not to us.”

 

At last, Rawn turned around, shaking harder now, his breathing strangely labored. “But I’m not worthy,” he insisted. “I’m only a Knight. I only protected my home, my people. I did…I did…I…”

 

Dame Sienna’s face took on a look of sudden fear and concern, and a hubbub of the same feelings rose from the crowd behind them. Joanna, looking on, shared the sense of alarm now gripping the courtyard. Rawn was not just shaking now, not just breathing heavily. He began to totter, to stagger, and put a hand to his heart. His eyes fluttered. And his skin changed. His face and the exposed flesh of his arms took on first a deathly pallor, then broke out into patches and splotches of greyish-green scales. His breaths turned to gasps and chokes. His eyes shut and did not open again.

 

He swayed hard to one side and crashed to the ground like a fallen oak. Shouts of fear and dismay echoed across the courtyard, while Dame Sienna quickly crouched beside Rawn. She put one hand on his brow and the other on her badge.

 

“Medical emergency at the Spires,” she called urgently. “We have a Knight down at the main courtyard, showing symptoms of severe genetic collapse. Repeat, fallen Knight with severe genetic collapse. Priority Alpha One; send help immediately…”

 

Joanna, paralyzed in body but not in mind at the sight of what was happening, rifled through everything she knew about the planet Lacerta and its inhabitants. She quickly realized what was happening to her rescuer, something that was a fact of life for every native of this planet. For most of them, it never became as dangerous as what now overcame Sir Rawn Ullery. Having saved Joanna’s life, Rawn was now in dire need of rescue himself.

 

 

 

    Joanna had known Rawn for only a day, but it broke her heart to see him in his present state. The powerful, quietly proud and noble man who had rescued her was now the most sickly, stricken, and wretched creature she had ever seen. And it was the very nature of what he was that had made him so.

 

A special room adjoining the infirmary of the Spires had been cleared out just to treat him. The medics had quickly set up a large, transparent cylindrical tank and had it filled with water from nearby Lake Shimmershine. Rawn was stripped naked and completely submerged in the tank, like an ancient laboratory specimen in a jar of formaldehyde, his nose and mouth covered with a respirator unit connected with a recycling oxygen tank suspended from overhead. 

 

And there he floated, unconscious, his proud and superbly muscled physique now so pallid that it was almost corpse-like. All up and down his body were patches and swaths of reptile skin, not the vibrant scales of a strong and healthy dragon, but the dull scalation of a dragon of advancing age, a dragon who had flown his last flight.

 

This was no way for the world’s greatest hero to be, Joanna thought. He should never be seen as anything but the mighty, all-conquering champion who had left this planet fifteen years ago to lead his fellow Knights in the final battles against one of the deadliest enemies ever to come out of space. That man, that dragon, should be the only Sir Rawn Ullery that anyone ever saw.  

 

On a table beside a control station, his fellow Knights had laid out his armor skin and his

Powerblade, set them there with love and reverence to wait for Rawn to awaken and don them again. Joanna looked from the empty armor on the table to the sickly man floating in the vat, and looked forward to seeing him restored to his true self and ready to wear the skin of his Knighthood again.

 

While the Spires worked quickly to get Lacerta’s long-lost champion into treatment,

 Joanna had broken the story of what happened in orbit and how and by whom she had been rescued. In just a day, the story had leapt from star system to star system, like a fire breathed out by Rawn himself and igniting the countryside. Other mediates had stormed the Spires, in person and digitally, for every detail about the return of Sir Rawn Ullery, and the Spires had made

Joanna their official liaison for all information about him, putting her in the most enviable position of any journalist in space right now.

 

What she had thought would be a major assignment would now be, for Joanna, a career landmark that would seal her reputation and put her at the top of her profession. But somehow, that did not seem to mean as much to her as just seeing Rawn out of that tank, walking and talking and being strong and proud again. She stood in front of him as he floated unconscious in there, and put her hand on the glass as if she was actually touching him.  

 

And what a thing he must be to touch, when he was not so weakened and pale with sickness. How amazing he must feel with all the strength of his manly, dragonly Knighthood surging in those muscles. And what lay flaccid and limp but still long and thick at the junction of those powerful thighs…what a weapon of conquest that must be to use on a submitting partner. How many females had been on the receiving end of that, and how much had they gloried in having it used on them?

 

If Rawn were to return to his glory, first the water in the tank must do its work on him. The waters of Lacerta were special. They contained a mineral compound called Draconite that had come from a primordial meteor bombardment. It was called Draconite because of the interaction between it and something else that the waters contained: segments of fossil DNA from the prehistoric dragons that had once inhabited the planet. 

 

 

When human colonists, knocked off their course through space by a nova explosion, found a lucky refuge on this planet, they all consumed and were exposed to the waters of the planet and the mutagenic effects of the mineral and the DNA fragments that they contained. From a lost human colony was born a new race of weredragons, who now ruled the planet like the true dragons before them.

 

But in their new condition, they found a pitfall. Every Lacertan was subject to a dangerous genetic deterioration whose only cure was the waters that had first mutated their ancestors. For their health, and indeed their lives, they must all take a prolonged bath or swim at regular periods in the lakes containing the highest concentrations of Draconite, like Lake Shimmershine, which would restore their genes and save them from the very fate that had now overtaken Rawn.

 

 

Pure humans visiting or living on Lacerta, such as Joanna, had to take special mutation inhibitor drugs to prevent the water on the planet mutating them. Weredragon Knights were admired across the galaxy, but people’s identities were precious to them after all, and most people who were not born Lacertan did not want to become one just by exposure. To become a Lacertan was a common fantasy for humans, but practically no one acted on it. Even now, watching Rawn floating in the waters that gradually restored his life, Joanna entertained the fantasy. But it was hardly the greatest fantasy that she held at the moment.

 

She barely heard the footsteps of Dame Sienna entering the room. “He’s about halfway through his restorative cycle now,” the female Mentor said. “Another twenty-four hours or so, and he’ll be in fit condition again. We’ll have him back. He’ll be fully returned to us.”

 

Joanna glanced at the Dame to acknowledge her, then returned her attention to Rawn as if pulled by gravity itself. “Everyone keeps talking about how remarkable it is that he’s been away for so long and held up so well against the ‘gene blight,’ as it’s called. But he’s always been remarkable.”

 

“He has,” Sienna agreed. “You’ve seen the logs we took from the Justice Claw, of course.”

 

“Yes, his logs about how he kept the blight from killing him all those years. As a Knight, he was trained to be resourceful, of course. But what Sir Rawn had to do to stay alive… The medical stores of the Justice Claw had a store of Draconite in case he happened to be stranded in some remote place for a long period. But when he used that up, he had to use the molecular structure of Draconite in the ship’s memory and samples of his own blood to create a synthetic version of it from materials he found on other planets.”

 

“It was a weaker version of Draconite, of course, much less potent than actual Draconite,” said Sienna, “but just strong enough to keep him alive in the time it took to get himself home. It says everything about how strong he is—his body, his will, his training—that he was able to make it through that ordeal and come home to us.” 

 

Joanna kept her hand on the glass as if she could somehow will him back to health that way. “But he was so vulnerable in that time. And that must have been the hardest part for him. He’s always been used to being strong, being the strongest. But while he was going through that, he said in the logs that there were times when he’d be so weak, barely able to stay conscious while his body fought to keep itself from falling apart.

 

 And he’d have to hide during those times, in asteroid belts, in remote parts of inhabited planets, on dead worlds, any place where no one could find him. And he was alone. All alone, cut off from everyone, with no one to help him.” She watched him intently through the glass of the tank, and her journalistic objectivity broke down almost as much as the condition of his body. “All by himself, all alone…” Her heart ached to think of it.

 

“He is strong,” said Sienna. “Strong in and of himself, and strong from the Mythos treatment. He was the perfect candidate for it, after all. And the treatment, and just being the kind of man and dragon he is, helped him through it. He is the greatest Knight we’ve ever had.”

 

“The greatest,” echoed Joanna, wanting to stroke the glass as if stroking Rawn himself. “Did you know he was actually upset when he rescued me—upset, guilty, that I was the only one he could save? He tried not to show it, but it actually hurt him that he couldn’t get anyone else out of there. It was like he took on the deaths of all those other people.”

 

“Wanting to help everyone, save everyone, was his nature,” Sienna said. “Sir Rawn is everything a Knight aspires to be—but even more so. There was never a Knight who took our ideals more to heart than he did.”

 

“I still can’t get over what he was saving me from,” said Joanna. “Everyone is still talking about the Scodax ‘booby trap,’ as people are calling it.”

 

“It’s a fitting name,” replied Sienna. “A final strike against an enemy. The hulls of the Scodax ships were seeded with nodes of a molecular explosive designed to detonate on contact with certain forms of energy. It was their way of ensuring that, if an enemy penetrated their defenses, the Scodax wouldn’t be taken alive—and they’d take some of the enemy with them.”

 

Joanna shook her head at this, bewildered at the thought. “They were incredibly

paranoid. How did they ever make it to space at all?”

 

Thoughtfully, Sienna said, “What little we know of them suggests an aggressively

segregated people who couldn’t bear differences, even amongst themselves. They broke down and scattered into different groups, all strictly made up of one type or one background. They must have been an extremely authoritarian society, almost blindly obedient to leaders and traditions.”

 

Still unable to conceive of such a thing, Joanna said, “And they thought they could make the Knights of Lacerta serve them, which is just insane on the face of it—the last members of a race of madmen with nothing but androids to enforce their will. How could they have thought they could do that? And what would it have been like for the Knights even if it were possible for the Scodax to bring them in line?”

 

The Dame guessed, “Judging by what we’ve learned, the Knights would have been both a warrior class and an underclass of untouchables, segregated from their masters who were

segregated themselves. Segregation was what the Scodax were all about. The Knights would have been kept as living weapons, battling when commanded but kept apart from the ones they served. It simply would never have worked. The Scodax were doomed as quickly as they

started. By all estimations, they were a mad race.”

 

“They were in a mad race,” Joanna frowned. “A mad race to their own destruction.”

 

“A race that they finally won,” the Dame agreed.

 

“So, what happens to the wreckage of the Scodax ships now?” Joanna asked.

 

“Obviously, it can’t be disposed of in the way it was first planned,” observed Sienna. “The Ruling Aerie is in talks to have it all collected onto freighters and launched into the corona of Catalan where it can’t harm anyone ever again.”

 

Joanna pictured it, fragments and shards and pieces of the spaceships of mad, doomed beings, spinning and hurtling their way into the immolating embrace of a star, never to be seen again. “Thrown into the sun… And that will really be the end of the Scodax.”

 

“For good and all,” said Sienna.

 

“If Sir Rawn had been here, he would have shown them who they were really up against. He would have made them sorry they ever came anywhere near this system.”

 

“I’m sure he would have,” the Dame agreed. “He was the best of us back then. I expect he will be the best of us again.” She watched Joanna watching the unconscious Rawn and thought she detected something more than a mere journalistic interest, but she kept her

observation to herself. She merely asked, “As our media liaison, are you finding your accommodations to your liking?”

Joanna was lost in thought for a moment and almost did not hear the question at first. Realizing the break in her concentration, she jerked her head a bit and faced the lady Mentor. “Excuse me, yes, everything is fine. Even under the circumstances, you’ve made me very

comfortable; I have everything I need. I’ll be wanting to talk to you later, on the record, about what you just told me about the Scodax and what’s being done to get rid of all that debris once and for all. And I’ll have to set up something with the Aerie. I’ll need a meeting with the Alpha Dragon later.”

 

“Of course,” replied Sienna. “Whatever you need, come to any of us.”

 

“I’ll want to start putting together a preliminary report for today right now. Is it all right if I stay here? It’s quiet here. Not that it’s really an uproar anywhere else in the Spires, but…”

 

Sienna understood. “But you’ll want privacy for this, yes. Stay as long as you like. We do still ask that you take no scans of Sir Rawn in his present state. We accept that there’s a huge amount of interest in his return, but we’d rather the greater galaxy did not see him…this way. At least, not now.”

 

“No, no, I’ll be discreet,” said Joanna. “Thanks for your consideration.”

 

“Then I’ll leave you to your work,” the Dame said. And she turned to exit, but as she went, she cast a final glance over her shoulder at Joanna, who, in a heartbeat’s time, had once again grown mesmerized at the unconscious and submerged warrior in the tank. Quietly, Sienna took her leave.

 

It would be another whole day before Sir Rawn was removed from the tank and revived from sedation. Even after that, the physicians had said he would be weakened and would

require repeated baths in heavy Draconite water to return to his full Knightly vigor.

 

Joanna thought about that. It was a weakened Sir Rawn who had left his ship and entered the crumbling spacedock in the midst of failing gravity, dwindling life support, and fluctuating force fields that were barely holding the structure together, and flown out to rescue her. It was a weakened Sir Rawn who had flown through the conflagration with her in his arms, blasting out his fiery breath to melt the obstacles in their path. That was what he did while weakened and on the brink of bodily collapse. What would he be capable of doing at full strength?

 

One thing was certain: as the Spires’ selected media liaison, Joanna would be on the front lines of the Lacertan recovery effort. That would, at all times, give her first media access to Sir Rawn Ullery and everything about him. When he revived, the first person, outside of the Mentors of the Knights and the leaders of the planet, to whom Rawn would speak would be

Joanna Way. She could not help but think that she now held a position most unique in all the galaxy. It would be upon her to tell the story of a legend—the most beautiful, powerful, and masculine legend in all of space.

_______________

 

Where the Spires had enjoined her not to transmit any scans of Rawn in the restorative tank while suffering from gene blight, twenty-four hours later, they encouraged Joanna otherwise.

 

There was a small and very select crowd in the room where Rawn’s vat had been installed. A number of other mediates from other news services across the quadrant had been admitted, as well as political dignitaries of Lacerta and Mentors, including Dame Sienna. The Alpha Dragon himself, leader of the Ruling Aerie, was present, along with his mate.

 

Except for the Alpha and the First Dragon, the physicians, and Dame Sienna, everyone in the room was required to stand in a special roped-off area and watch as the mighty Knight of yore was revived for his official welcome home. Owing to her position, Joanna stood at the front of the group, immediately behind the ropes, the better to catch the event with Epaulette recording away above her shoulder.

 

The effects of the sedatives had begun to wear off in the time that the medical team predicted. Rawn had awoken, submerged and breathing-masked, and had a chance to

understand what was happening and adjust to the situation. He had floated comfortably for a while in the heated water, and the medical team had talked to him through a communication unit in the breathing mask and apprised him of his condition and everything that had happened and would happen.

 

Rawn calmly accepted their prognosis and waited patiently with the discipline with which he had been trained until his caregivers were ready to remove him from the tank. While submerged and waiting, he had also wondered about the human mediate whom he had rescued from Lacerta Five and whether he would see her again.

 

He soon had his answer. A couple of lower-ranking Knights entered to set up the ropes that would partition off a part of the room. They paused and bowed warmly to him as they entered, and Rawn nodded back to them from inside the tank. Once they were gone, the medical team and others began to file into the room. These included someone that Rawn guessed was the current Alpha Dragon from the sash that he wore across his chest, and a female closely accompanying him who must have been the First Dragon.

 

 A pair of strapping Knights escorted these two inside, and the four of them took their place on one side of the room. Dame Sienna and some other Mentors were the next to come in, and they stood on the side of the room opposite the Alpha and First. Then, a small crowd of other people entered behind them and started to fill up the space behind the ropes, and that was when Rawn spotted her.

 

She was easy to pick out, with her AI floating over her shoulder like those of the other members of the press, but even without it, Rawn could not possibly have missed her. Before she took her place behind the ropes near the Alpha, she sent a smiling look in his direction that somehow made the water around him feel even warmer. Then, she called to the leader of the planet, who acknowledged her, and the two of them began to talk. Of course, she was a journalist, and she was on the job. Rawn was sure he would have ample opportunities to talk to her in the days ahead.

 

The water was made to drain out of the bottom of the tank. As soon as the water was at the level of Rawn’s hairy chest, the overhead devices automatically withdrew the breathing unit from his face and lifted it away. The tank quickly emptied itself, and two vertical seams appeared in the transparent cylinder. The medics efficiently removed the section of the tank created by the seams and bore it to one side, while Rawn, healed and completely naked, took a deep breath and stepped out into the room to the sound of thunderous cheering.

 

 The medics were back immediately with a towel that they wrapped around him while Rawn looked across the little throng of privileged admirers and nodded and smiled a little smile of

appreciation at them, letting his eyes come to rest, at last, on the woman near the Prime Couple at one end.

 

She had seen him naked. Given that weredragons were encumbered with even less body shame than humans of this day and age, it really wasn’t an issue. It was of no consequence that anyone at all had seen him naked, but it seemed to matter just a bit that she had seen him that way.

 

Rawn found himself hoping that she liked what she saw, especially down below his waist. There was no reason she wouldn’t. As a weredragon and a Knight of Lacerta, he was desired by women—and not a few men—everywhere he went, and he frequently had pleasing company in bed. Perhaps it was only that this Joanna Way was the first woman of a world known to him that Rawn had seen in a decade and a half. Perhaps that was why it seemed to matter that she

appreciated the sight of him out of armor or anything else. After not being in the company of any descendant of Earth for so long, Rawn was pleased to be a welcome sight to so many, but especially to Joanna.

 

The two Knights who had brought in the ropes returned with a ceremonial cloak reserved for dignitaries to wear on the most special and solemn occasions. They draped it over Rawn’s shoulders, and he fastened it, then dropped the towel. Clad in the cloak now and letting it fall in such a way as to hide the part of him that called particular attention to itself, Rawn faced his admirers and let their applause and cheering slowly subside while the Knights and the caregivers stepped quietly away. As silence gradually fell over the room, Rawn knew that it was time for him to say something to his people and his world for the first time since he’d disappeared.

 

“My friends,” he began, “my fellow Knights, my Mentors, our Alpha and First Dragons, people of Lacerta and Earth and our allies…I thank you for your welcome. I knew the day would come when I would look into faces such as yours and see the fellowship and good will that you now express for me, and I thank you. At the end of a long and arduous trip, through which I faced isolation and danger and, at times, peril, the looks on your faces now are the best reward I could have.

 

 You knew that I was lost. You may have believed me to be dead. There were times I nearly was. But there will be time enough to tell those stories. I am now home, returned to the world that I love and the space that I have been proud to defend. And soon, I’ll rejoin the ranks of the Knights and stand and fly again with my brethren as I loved so well. For now…thank you for your welcome. You have my respect and my love.”

 

At the end of his little speech, as the applause welled up once again and became an

almost tangible thing in the room, Rawn sought out Joanna’s face again and found her smiling a smile that he was pleased to know was just for him. She nodded subtly and approvingly at him, and in the midst of plaudits and accolades from a crowd of people, including the leader of the planet, somehow, it was her approval that meant the most.

 

His caregivers came to lead him from the room and off to quarters that had been prepared for him in one of the towers of the Spires. Rawn let them usher him away from the cheers and the clapping, but as he went, he cast a look back over his shoulder at Joanna to take her smile with him.

 

 

 

It was an unusual thing to see an Interstar Fleet star shuttle sitting on the stage floor in the  auditorium of the main dome of the Spires. But then, the purpose of this mass briefing was, in itself, unusual.

 

The auditorium seats were filled with every Mentor of the Knights and the Corps of

 Lacerta, plus members of the Ruling Aerie and the highest-ranking officials from every city and settlement on the planet. They had not been told why they had been called to the Spires. They had been told only that it was of the highest importance and the most secret nature, and the Knights had imposed the tightest security around the event. The hushed tone and the muted voices in the great round room made the veil of secrecy around this gathering feel almost like a physical, literal thing.

 

Out onto the floor, in front of the spacecraft, stepped a slender man over fifty years of age, who had let his hair recede and thin because his mind was on too many other things. He looked up into the rows and tiers of seats and smiled a cordial but thoughtful smile. The hushed voices lowered themselves to whispers and silence as Dr. Jacques Phifer began his address.

 

“Gathered officials of the Knights and Corps of Lacerta and the governing bodies of the colony, welcome to this formal briefing on the results of Project Mythos, which we believe will be of the greatest import to the effort to stop the encroachment and incursion of the Chimerians into our quadrant, and preserve the lives and security of all our worlds.

 

 I said ‘results’ because that is what our work has produced: definitive, tangible, effective results. And if I say so myself, powerful results. Results that will make all the difference for us in the battle we are waging against an implacable foe.”

 

Dr. Phifer let his gaze rest for a moment on a side entrance to the auditorium. There he found his colleague and assistant, Dr. Sewall Sabian. About twenty years younger than Phifer, Sabian was a man of dull blond hair, broad shoulders, and stocky build, with narrow, piercing eyes. When Phifer, a genetic engineer from Earth, submitted his proposal to the Interstar League and Fleet for a radical method of combating the Chimerians, he had not known what to expect.

 

His idea called for the project to be set up on Lacerta and for the recruitment of a Lacertan

volunteer. He had not known how the dragon people would react, whether they would take the proposal seriously or want to flog a human scientist with their dragon tails for daring even to suggest such an idea. It was radical, it was audacious, and it might even have been seen as presumptuous.

 

To Phifer’s surprise, after the proposal went through channels in the League and the Fleet and was submitted to the Ruling Aerie and the Spires on Lacerta, not only was his project accepted, but the League even suggested a research and development partner, Sabian, whose work on gene therapies with diverse species had attracted a considerable reputation.

 

 Phifer was not sure, at first, he even wanted to work with a partner. He was afraid another

scientist, especially a younger researcher with Sabian’s already impressive record, might be

unwilling to take the role of an assistant in Phifer’s project. He was relieved to find in the

intense and driven younger man a colleague who took on the work with enthusiasm and helped to speed things along once the project got going. The look that passed between Phifer and Sabian now was one of quiet satisfaction and subtly restrained excitement at the fruition of their

labors. They were about to make galactic history.

 

“As you’ve been briefed,” Phifer continued, “the goal of the Mythos project has been to create an advanced squadron of Lacertan Knights—advanced and, indeed, enhanced. The

recipients of the treatment, who will be selected from among the finest young members of the active Knighthood, will be endowed with powers surpassing all other Knights and all other peacekeeping personnel in the Interstar League.

 

 I chose to work with Lacertan Knights because the inhabitants of this colony are all already

endowed with a specific mutation: the inborn power to morph their physical form from humans to bipedal dragons. I was inspired by the Lacertans’ dragon nature and by the oldest, most

pervasive myths of the planet Earth. In the mythology and folklore of our ancestral planet,

dragons were feared for the power that they alone of all creatures were said to possess: the

power to breathe fire.

 

 With this power, the legends said, they brought terror and destruction onto the lands where our ancestors lived. These stories today, so many centuries later, are understood to be just that—stories. But I set out with the hypothesis that through the manipulation and splicing of genes and the careful guidance of artificial mutation, I could create, in real weredragons, the powers attributed to the beasts of myth.

 

 My project required a test subject of the physical and psychological strength to withstand a

series of reversible genetic alterations until we arrived at the final, successful mutation. The

subject has passed through the genetic beta testing with the most auspicious success and is ready to demonstrate that success for you today. It is now my greatest honor to present to you Sir Rawn Ullery, Knight of Lacerta.”

 

The side entrance where Dr. Sabian stood slid open, and onto the auditorium floor stepped Sir Rawn, newly minted Knight, just nineteen years of age and clad in a simple silver armor skin. He had just passed his final initiation into the Knighthood after three years of training. He had come to the attention of the Mythos Project because of the speed with which he had passed through the training and the natural aptitude for battle that he had demonstrated from the very beginning.

 

 He had caught the attention of all the Mentors and quickly become the most watched pupil of the Spires. Not even twenty years old, he was an arresting specimen. The strength and vigor seemed to sing in his muscles as he moved. The commitment to his world and his duty appeared to shine in his features and his eyes. Everyone he had met since submitting himself for training had sensed something special, something almost magical about him. There seemed to be no one else on all of Lacerta who was more truly born to be a Knight than Rawn.

 

Sir Rawn strode over to the human with whom he had worked for so many months. He looked down at the shorter Dr. Phifer with a noble kindness, with almost the look of a child for a loving parent. A bond had formed between the young Knight and the scientist from Earth. Rawn had taken Phifer’s work to heart and given his all to the project. And he had not disappointed.

 

Phifer touched Rawn gently on one arm and said, “My boy, this is the day when

everything we’ve done, all the work and all the sacrifices, pay off. Are you ready, son?”

 

“I’ve been ready from the beginning, Sir,” said Rawn.

 

“There’s my boy,” Phifer said, and gave Rawn’s arm a small, doting squeeze.

 

Phifer returned his attention to the seats. “And now, it’s my honor also to introduce the man who has been instrumental at every step of the way in speeding this project along to its most auspicious conclusion. He’s the most brilliant and capable researcher I have ever met, and has exceeded my expectations in realizing the Mythos Project.” Gesturing in his assistant’s direction, he called, “Please join me, Dr. Sewall Sabian.”

 

At Phifer’s call, Sabian stepped forward from where he stood and joined the leader of the project and their subject. He gazed up at the people in the seats with a cordial, quiet nod and a soft smile.

 

“Thank you, Dr. Phifer,” said Sabian. “It’s been my pride and my honor to join you in this project. Together, we’ve brought a new power into the galaxy, one that will serve the greatest cause.”

 

“Well said,” Dr. Phifer acknowledged proudly. To the men and women in the seats, Dr. Phifer continued, “Sir Rawn’s enhanced powers will operate only when he is in his dragon form.” Then, to the young Knight: “Sir Rawn, if you please…?”

 

The scientist took a couple of steps back. Rawn, facing the tiers of seats, gave only the most slightly perceptible shrug of his powerful shoulders, and at once, his human shape gave way to the dragon with neck outstretched, wings unfurling, and tail curling out behind him.

 

“And now, Sir Rawn,” said Phifer, almost theatrically, “show us your fire.”

 

A heavy exhale from the armored weredragon produced serpentine wisps of smoke from his nostrils. He reared back the mighty, horned head on his python-like neck, opened wide his mouthful of sparkling dragon fangs, took a deep breath, and breathed out more heavily. At once, from his reptilian jaws leapt a column of blazing yellow-orange flame. The response was even more dramatic than even the hint of theatricality in the scientist’s command. A vast chorus of gasps welled up in the auditorium.

 

The onlookers leaned forward or backward in their seats, clutched the arms of their chairs incredulously, or leapt to their feet. Gasps turned to a few shouts, and a heavy murmur and buzz of excitement filled the space.

 

Phifer looked to Sabian and found the corner of his assistant’s mouth turned up in a

triumphant smile that said, we’ve got them right where we want them.

 

Rawn ceased his blazing exhale and lowered his head to face the gathered luminaries in the seats again. Tendrils of smoke poured from his closing mouth and his nostrils. He huffed slightly, allowing himself a moment of pleasure in his own performance.

 

Containing his own pleasure, Phifer addressed his assistant. “Dr. Sabian, would you care to continue from here?”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Phifer,” said Sabian. To those assembled in the seats, he carried on where Phifer had left off. "Sir Rawn's flame is of variable intensity and focus. It can express as a jet of fire, as you've just seen. It can also express as a wide burst to cover an entire area, or a concentrated burst upon a single target. And it can be focused even more tightly to become a torch capable of cutting metals and other compounds of weapons-grade strength, as you'll now observe."

 

As Sabian spoke, two drones floated into the auditorium from another side entrance, each one equipped with grappling arms that carried a sheet of metallic, or metallic-ceramic, plating of the type that the scientist had described. The drones positioned themselves roughly four meters from where Phifer, Sabian, and Rawn stood.

 

“And now,” the younger scientist announced, “Sir Rawn will demonstrate the potency of his powers as I’ve just described. Sir Rawn, if you will…”

 

Rawn stepped past the two researchers and stood facing the two sheets of material

suspended from the drones’ robotic arms. He focused his attention on one, took a deep breath, and lunged his neck forward, opening his mouth wide. A mighty gout of flame welled up in his dragon maw and reached out like the massive tendril of some fiery Kraken. It enveloped the first metal-ceramic sheet and sent feelers of searing fire crawling up and down the surface of it. In a matter of seconds, nothing was left of the metallic sample but the small portions of it still grasped in the arms of the drone, which floated away as if afraid to face what had destroyed its cargo. On the stage floor lay a molten heap of matter that had been Rawn’s target.

 

Rawn pivoted his dragon neck to the other sample suspended by the other drone. He inhaled deeply again and shut his formidably fanged mouth until his jaws lay only slightly open. He concentrated and exhaled again, and once again, he gave forth his fiery breath. But this time, it came as a narrow, concentrated jet of flame. It struck one edge of the floating sample and immediately burned through it, cutting a notch in the material.

 

 Rawn continued exhaling his torch and swiveled his head to the side, and as his head moved, it carried his flaming jet across the surface of the material sample, cutting its way along as it went, until the sample was precisely cut in two. The lower half fell with a clatter to the stage floor, leaving the half still in the grasp of the drone smoldering red-hot at the edge of the cut.

 

What was earlier a heavy murmur and a buzz of excitement in the auditorium now became almost an uproar. Voices raised, and in the din, Phifer and Sabian could pick out snatches of reaction: “Tactical applications…effectiveness against starship-grade hull plating…sustain that kind of output for how long…continued effectiveness in prolonged combat…how many more enhanced Knights…enhance the on-planet Corps in the same way…but powerblades are more precise…side-effects of the mutation process…adapt the entire Knighthood…”

 

Patiently, almost indulgently, Phifer let the upswell of reactions go on as long as he thought was needed. He looked to Rawn and Sabian. His assistant was as obviously pleased with the response as Phifer himself. Rawn’s dragon features were not as easy to read, but Phifer thought he could see twinkles of pleasure in the Knight’s dragon eyes, and he could tell from Rawn’s posture that the young weredragon was quietly satisfied with the reception they were

getting. At last, Phifer help up his hands to the officials in the seats in a gesture that asked for quiet and calm. “Please, everyone, please… There’s still one final part of the demonstration you’ve yet to see. If you’d all calm down for a moment… Everyone, please…”

 

Relative calm returned to the auditorium. The tumult of voices became again a muted buzz, and people settled back into their seats, giving Phifer a chance to go on.

 

Resuming, Phifer said, “I heard among your reactions a question about mutagenic side effects. And I’m pleased to announce that the Mythos process has, in fact, produced a side effect in our subject. Yes, you heard me correctly: pleased. For the side effect of Mythos is, in fact, as beneficial as it is unexpected and surprising. The unexpected secondary mutation came about, we believe, as an adaptation to the flame-generating powers. It is an enhancement to the strength and durability of the body tissues to render them impervious to flame.

 

The net effect of this enhancement is a most dramatic increase in the strength of the body itself. Sir Rawn now possesses a greatly magnified level of strength; magnified many times beyond that of a human or a weredragon Knight in prime physical condition. And further, he possesses this strength in both his dragon and his human forms, as our young Knight will now demonstrate. You’ve no doubt been wondering why this star shuttle has been placed here on the stage floor of the auditorium. Sir Rawn, if you will, please demonstrate the reason.”

 

At the scientist’s request, Rawn entered a relaxed posture. He let his arms hang loose at his sides and slightly bowed his dragon head. With a long breath, he let his reptilian-humanoid form slip away. Wings and tail receded, neck shortened, head morphed, skin turned from scales to smoother human flesh. In a moment, he was human again. He spun on his heel and faced the air-space vehicle parked a few steps away. He walked over to it and crouched. Slipping his hands under the carriage, he made a gesture that looked like a shrug—but was, in fact, a flex.

 

With a startlingly token effort, Rawn tilted the body of the spacecraft upward, tilting the vehicle on the auditorium floor. Rising carefully to his feet, he moved under the tilted craft, placed his hands wide apart on the undercarriage, and gave another lift—raising it completely from the floor and standing beneath it, supporting it with his arms and shoulders. He stood there, holding it up above the floor as casually as a man might lift the cushion of a piece of furniture.

Standing there, hefting a spaceship, Rawn drank in the sounds of loud gasping and the outcries of shock and awe that rippled through the auditorium, and allowed himself a smile that defied the strong but quiet modesty of a Knight. The Knights of Lacerta were trained to be confident in their supreme abilities, but never to boast idly or flaunt their pride. Rawn did not flaunt, but nonetheless, he took pleasure in the success of the endeavor.

 

 He had offered up his body and his life to the service of his world and people, and his willingness to serve had been rewarded a thousand-fold. He was the vanguard of a new breed of Knights who would make their world ever stronger, ever prouder, and ever more triumphant. More so than any other Knight before him, it was his honor to serve.

 

Dr. Phifer gestured once again for a measure of silence from the seats. “Honored

officials, please…please, if you will…” As the din once again partly subsided, he continued: “What you have seen today is the beginning of a new era. What we are showing you today is the first Knight of his kind. The fully tested Mythos process is safe and ready to be applied to more subjects. Sir Rawn Ullery will serve as the initial standard. We will seek out other young Knights of Lacerta with the most superb soundness of mind and body, and we expect that we will find many others like him who are prepared to undergo the treatment and take on the powers that Sir Rawn has demonstrated for you today.”

 

Satisfied at the exhibition of his powers, Rawn went down on one knee, lowering the shuttle with him, and carefully climbed out from under the vessel, depositing it back on the floor. He stepped back over to the two scientists who had made him the wonderment of

everyone who now saw him, and casually flexed his bare arms, not at all affected by the exertion.

 

Phifer went on, “Today, we have given you our answer to the danger of the Chimerians encroaching on our space. We will meet the threat and the terror that they bring with Knights of such power that they will not only hold the line against our enemies, but push it back. And their presence will serve as a warning, not only to the Chimerians but to any other foes who would challenge us, that no aggression will stand against Earth, its territories and colonies, or its allies. With our newly empowered, loyal and noble Knights, we will prevail.”

 

And with no further restraint, the audience burst into a raucous standing ovation.

 

Rawn and the two men who had so spectacularly empowered him looked up from the stage floor and scanned the throng of cheering officials and dignitaries who had risen to their feet to honor them. For Rawn, this moment surpassed every dream he’d ever had of what it would mean to be a Knight. Outwardly, he received the ovation with a calm a dignified smile, befitting his station. Inwardly, he lifted his arms and spread his dragon wings and cheered right back at them. It was a moment of glory and the beginning, he was sure, of a glorious life.

 

Sewall Sabian lifted his hands, smiling and nodding at the people in the seats, accepting their praise and encouraging them to calm down just for a moment. His voice was just audible over the applause: “Everyone, thank you… Thank you… Please, if I may… Please…”

 

The enthused, excited plaudits slowly subsided. The officials slowly took their seats again, leaving their energy charging the air all around. And Dr. Phifer’s assistant spoke up: “This is a fantastic achievement, to be sure. We’ve taken a young man-dragon and changed him from the finest warrior and champion that Lacerta has to offer, to something even mightier. Lacerta and all of the quadrant will be justified in their pride at this accomplishment and what it means: that they’ll soon have a force with which any and all enemies will have to reckon.”

 

 He stepped closer to Phifer. “For all these many months, Dr. Phifer and I have worked together towards this goal, to make all of our worlds safer from the encroachment and incursion of the Chimerians. And when the Chimerians learn what we’ve done here today, they’ll know that in Sir Rawn Ullery they will face the most formidable of enemies…”

 

Sabian cast a broadly smiling glance over at the man he had assisted and the young man who had become the powerful recipient of their labors. Phifer and Rawn looked proudly over at him. And Sabian continued, “…just as they will be assured that Sir Rawn is the only Knight of his kind. The line of enhanced Knights of Lacerta will begin…and END…with him!”

 

There was only a fleeting instant for Rawn and Phifer’s expressions to change from

quietly triumphant pride to curiosity and bewilderment. In that instant, Sabian clapped Phifer firmly on the back—and something happened.

 

Jacques Phifer’s entire body went first into a spasm, then a shocking, death-like rigor. He threw his head back, convulsed, and dropped to the floor. Rawn stood, paralyzed with disbelief, and watched his friend lying still before him. Phifer’s skin turned the reddish-purple hue of an inflamed blister, then changed to the ashen, deathly grey of a corpse. He emitted a sound like air escaping a balloon—and then his breathing stopped completely.

 

 Rawn was hardly even aware of the stunned incredulity of the people in the seats above him. His eyes stayed riveted to the sight of Phifer’s lifeless body on the floor—before he turned up his face to meet a look of pure, wicked evil on the features of Sewall Sabian.

 

Rawn choked out the horrified question, “What did you just do?”

 

With pure malevolence Sabian answered, “I’ve just struck a blow for the great Chimerian expansion. I’ve destroyed the man who would have raised an army of super-dragon Knights against the Chimerians. The mighty squadrons of fire-breathing dragon men and women will never exist and never stand against the inevitable. The Chimerians will never stop coming for your worlds or for you. They will sweep over you like the floods and plagues of Earth’s old myths, and you and everything you know will fall before them.”

 

Rawn’s horror and disbelief only grew with Sabian’s words. “But why?” he shouted.

 

“Because the High Chimerian has shown me the way!” Sabian shouted back. “Because the rule of a single intelligence over life in all its forms, over all shapes and expressions of life, over all transformations and evolutions of life, is an inevitability! Everything that lives will become an expression of a single mind—one supreme mind that will rule the galaxy! And there will be an end to chaos and conflict and struggle and pain. There will only be a collective unity of all life-kind and every species on every planet—with the High Chimerian as its lord and master!”

 

Sick with shock, Rawn took a step back and away, his eyes darting from the fallen Phifer to the maddened man standing over him. “You’ve been serving the High Chimerian—working with the Chimerians—all along?”

 

“You don’t know what a glorious thing it is,” said Sabian with the look of a man addicted to a narcotic. “I’ve seen the vision of the High Chimerian, a vision of all life united as a whole, reshaped and transformed to serve a single purpose, a single will. One life form becoming

another, every creature becoming an extension of one mind. You don’t know the power of it, how it will transform the nature of life itself for the better. Under the High Chimerian, there will be no conflict, no inequality, no strife and struggle—only the devotion of all life to one master. That’s what we offer. That’s what we will bring. And you and your Knights can do nothing to stop it.”

 

Something snapped inside Rawn. A fury tore itself loose from somewhere deep in his soul. “TRAITOR!” he bellowed. “YOU MONSTER! YOU TRAITOR!” He morphed back to dragon form so quickly that it seemed as if his human shape had been suddenly, violently torn away. He drew his powerblade from the side of his armor and released the glowing energy sword from its hilt.

 

Curls of smoke raised from his dragon nostrils, and tongues of flame rolled from his dragon jaws. “In the name of the Knights of Lacerta, I place you under arrest for the murder of Dr. Jacques Phifer in the eyes of these witnesses. And your attack on our planet and all our worlds will be stopped.”

 

“And you’ll stop us, boy?” said Sabian. “We’ve already stopped your Mythos Project. Your Knighthood, your Corps, and your Interstar Fleet will all be next. Accept the inevitability of the rule of the Chimerians. We are your future.”

 

With a shrug, Sabian morphed his own body. His laboratory coverall fell away, and his body transformed. His skin took on a dark brownish-grey hue. His hair disappeared, and from his back, a pair of wings of his own unfurled: wings with mighty grey-black feathers, each one bearing a massive, curved spike at its joint. Rawn dismissed his reaction to this latest shock. Brandishing his powerblade and exhaling fire, he commanded the thing that was Sabian, “Stand your ground. We have you surrounded. You are under arrest.”

 

The winged monster fixed Rawn with a contemptuous smile, then looked up into the seats where the Mentors of the Knights and Corps had already stood up and unfettered their own powerblades. There were dozens poised against him. Sabian gazed back at Rawn and simply said, “No, boy. I have you ‘surrounded’.”

 

His blade raised high, Rawn took a step forward to give battle to the traitor. In the same second, the transformed Sabian turned his smile to a scowl—and from the inhuman flesh of his morphed body poured massive, dark clouds, billowing and spreading and rolling out across the stage and up into the seats. Before anyone could react or move, the auditorium quickly began to fill with opaque clouds that turned the place into a roiling expanse of impenetrable vapor.

 

 Rawn reared back, breathing plumes of fire, trying to cut through the dark clouds with his flame, only to see his fiery breath disappearing into the churning clouds. He could see only the expanding, spreading vapors before him and could hear only the shouts of the onlookers and Mentors in the seats. Then, he heard the crash and clatter of something shattering overhead.

 

The dark mists slowly parted, receded, and settled towards the floor. Rawn looked up at the skylight of the auditorium and saw the large, open, jagged place where it had been broken open. He reacted instantly. With a beating of his wings and a slashing of his tail, he was off the auditorium floor and rising fast for the skylight.

 

In just a few wing beats, he was out of the auditorium, through the hole in the skylight, and cleaving his way through the open air above the Spires. Rawn did not even pause to look back at the Mentors flying out behind him. With fire smoldering in his jaws and his powerblade at the ready, he fixed himself on the dark, flying figure heading quickly away, high above the treetops. Slashing his tail and thrashing the air with his wings, he sped off after Sabian.

 

Rawn began to close the gap between himself and his foe. He let loose a piercing dragon screech, a warning to Sabian that he was coming for him. Sabian, beating the wings of his own mutation, looked back over his shoulder at the fast-approaching Rawn, then looked back ahead and sped onwards. Roaring after him, Rawn exhaled a huge ball of fire that rolled searingly through the air and burst into a fiery discharge just a couple of meters behind Sabian.

 

The evil mutation peered back at Rawn once again and released from his skin another cloud of dark, spreading mist, into which Sabian disappeared. Furiously, Rawn breathed out an expanding sheet of flame into the opaque clouds between himself and his quarry. The fire cut through the vapors, and Rawn shot forward like a missile behind it.

 

Emerging on the other side of the dark cloud, Rawn looked for his enemy and caught sight of Sabian in the distance, flying quickly towards a hovering craft identical to the star shuttle that had been brought into the auditorium. Beating his wings all the harder to increase his speed, Rawn made straight for the shuttle, but it was for naught. Sabian flew into the opened hatch of the craft, which sealed itself behind him, and the shuttle was on its way at once. It retreated higher into the sky, becoming just a speck among the clouds, and was gone.

 

In another moment, the sound of wingbeats behind him heralded the arrival of the

Mentors who had flown out of the auditorium after him. Hovering and circling in the air, they all watched with Rawn as the ship carrying the traitor disappeared.

 

Throwing back his head and shaking his powerblade impotently at the sky, Rawn gave forth a screech and a howl of the all-consuming rage that only a dragon could feel at a friend lost, a cause betrayed, and an evil that would be avenged.

_______________

 

And that was the way it was, fifteen years ago, the day that his friend, Dr. Phifer, revealed to the awestruck leaders of the Knighthood, the Corps, and the colony what Rawn had become in the service of his world. That was the way it was the day that Dr. Sabian, whom he and Phifer had so trusted, revealed himself as the basest of traitors and turned on them, the betrayal that cost Phifer his life.

 

 Phifer had been more to Rawn than just a scientist laboring to transform him into a super dragon. He had treated Rawn with kindness and concern, almost in the way of a father. After Sabian had escaped, Rawn had retreated away in private to weep bitter, angry tears at the loss of his friend who had given him so much--and he had sworn a private, personal oath to bring the treacherous Sabian to justice, even at the cost of Rawn's own life. And in a way, it had done exactly that. His showdown with Sabian had cost him the last fifteen years, lost in a remote space, cut off from everything and everyone he knew, facing a long journey home with only himself and his ship to count on.

 

Rawn had requested that the Spires assign him standard Knight's quarters in which to

settle himself and take up residence, but he had been assigned a place of honor in Mentor's

quarters instead. He had a suite with amenities such as more space, a sunken fire pit, a sunken bath, a larger bed, and large picture windows, one of them letting out onto a small balcony, which Rawn frankly considered out of proportion to his station.

 

But he'd been unable to talk the Mentors out of accommodating him in that way. He was their conquering hero and an

inspiration to dozens of planets and he had been feared dead for so long, they considered the honor entirely befitting his return. Out of deference to the Mentors, he accepted the rooms and the relative comfort they provided.

 

He spent his first night in the suite alone. Information services set him up with a new Stellarnet account and Interconnect presence, and he spent an entire evening watching and

listening to media coverage about his "return from the dead" and receiving one hologram after another from every part of the quadrant expressing congratulations and welcome. Public figures of every sort, from political and diplomatic leaders and athletes to entertainment celebrities, all sent him words and images of warm wishes.

 

 One such message came from Agena and her dragon Knight lover, Sir Thrax Helmer, who themselves had figured largely in the media after their exploits against the Scodax. After many hours, a large meal, and a long bath, he was tired of hearing about himself and wanted only to go to bed in something other than the cramped quarters of the Justice Claw. So, upon climbing from the bath, he turned everything off and stretched out naked on the bed, welcoming sleep as the greater galaxy had so heartily welcomed him.

 

His nude and muscled frame drank in the sleekness of the bed linens and the softness of their thread count, and he felt as if his entire body were giving out a long, deep sigh. As a man and dragon of deep faith, Rawn had never given up believing he would feel this way again, but he had resigned himself to the long stretch of years before it would happen.

This was the end of his long, long sojourn across vast and unknown space, in which one small ship had been Rawn's only home and his very life had been bound to it and his very future had depended on it. Those years had brought many deprivations and wants. Physical comfort was only one of them.

 

 That time had been lonely, a loneliness beyond imagining. He had missed the company of his own kind, and the company of humans. He had missed the camaraderie of the Knighthood and the Corps, and the sights and sounds and sensations of home. And without a doubt, he had missed the pleasure of sex.

 

The life of a Knight included many sex partners, and before his disappearance into the Chimerian war nexus, Rawn had shared a bed with plenty of females, human and Lacertan. But he had spent the last fifteen years in reaches of space where there were no humans and no

 Lacertans. Whenever he’d found himself in a place where there were physically

compatible females, he had taken a partner. But those intimacies were necessarily fleeting and transitory things, detours from the one overriding mission of his life: getting home.

 

There was always a goodbye, always a return to his solitary voyage, always a renewal of the hope of one day finding his way home again. And now, he was here, and it was good. His people were embracing him, happily, joyously, and soon he would know again all the things he missed so much. He would stand and fly at the side of his fellow Knights in duty and service. And he would lie again with the females of his world and the women of the worlds of Earth. Down

below, he stirred and stiffened at the thought of it.

 

He touched and stroked his hardening member, pulling back the ample foreskin, and his thumb brushed against the blunt head and grew slick with the slippery nectar it produced. Rawn smiled a small, sleepy smile at the thought of slipping inside a weredragon or human female once again after so long a time.

 

No doubt many females would be eager to be under him in bed. It was no arrogant boast; there would naturally be a great interest in him now, with everyone welcoming him back and wanting to know the story of what he'd been through while he was away. To be sure, many potential partners awaited him. He looked forward to their company.

 

This one in particular, this Joanna Way: her media service had assigned her to cover his return. In the days to come, as he toured Lacerta to visit places where the battles with the Scodax had taken place, to greet his people and be welcomed home in the midst of rest and recuperation before returning to duty, this Joanna Way whom he had rescued would be his regular companion. She was lovely enough, perhaps she would prove to be an especially close

companion. The staff at his loins throbbed approvingly at the thought of it.

 

The sights and sounds and feelings--including sex--of home. Relaxing the hand that stroked himself, Rawn let his body and mind float away into sleep, with that as his last waking thought.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As part of his therapy and recovery, Rawn would require regular baths and swims in

restorative waters, another thing he welcomed. Slipping his dragon body into the waters of the Draconite lakes of home was another pleasure he had missed so badly while he was away, almost as much as he had missed slipping himself into the bodies of the females of home. The next morning, after a generous breakfast, Rawn took a hoverboat away from the Spires and out across the countryside to Lake Shimmershine for a long and sensuous swim.

 

 Upon reaching the lake, he found Knights assigned to patrol Shimmershine swooping in to

welcome him home, and he received their warm greetings with a deep warmth of his own. In the years of his absence, many new Knights had naturally entered the fold, and so there was no one that he recognized, but each of them in his or her own way was like an old friend because the Knighthood itself was a common bond in which they were all united.

 

 It was all very much like returning to a large and loving family after too long a separation. After receiving their good wishes, Rawn made himself naked, morphed to dragon form, tucked his wings tight, and dove horns-first into the water.

 

It felt magnificent, cool and blue and as welcoming as his people themselves. He swam long and deep. His dragon physiology enabled him to stay under for a long time, and he took full advantage of it. For a while, he simply sank to the bottom and lay there peacefully, watching a few of his fellow Lacertans swim by through the depths or across the surface that sparkled from the sunlight. With every passing moment, he felt more at home.

 

At length, he surfaced again and swam back to his craft. He stayed in dragon form and lay on the deck, sunning himself deliciously, before morphing back to human and heading back to the Spires. Awaiting him here was lunch--and over his meal, his first personal interview with Joanna Way.

 

Joanna sat with Rawn at the table in his suite, Epaulette hovering at her shoulder and

recording everything the two of them said and did for later editing and transmission. The first thing that Joanna noted, privately, was the size of Rawn's meal in comparison with her own.

 Lacertans were known to have large appetites in general (and the males, not only for food), but Rawn actually needed to consume more food than other Lacertans: for his body needed to store greater quantities of methane to fuel his fire-breathing powers.

 

In her research on exactly what was done to Rawn, genetically, to create his powers, Joanna had learned that he had a slightly different internal anatomy than other weredragons. That large and powerfully-built body contained a pair of additional bladders specifically for the storage of methane, and his internal body tissues stored additional quantities of that gas to transfer to the bladders.

 

When he morphed to dragon, his upper respiratory system had a pair of flint-like structures called metatonsils that struck against each other to create sparks when he exhaled methane to make his fiery breath. The way Dr. Phifer had adapted him was truly marvelous, almost as

marvelous as the sight of Rawn himself.

 

Over lunch, Rawn recounted for Joanna the story of that day that had begun in such pride and wonderment and ended in such betrayal and horror, when he first exhibited his powers only to face the fatal treachery of Sewall Sabian. It was a story told and documented many times by now, but to have it told again by the fire-breathing Knight himself, from his own memory and perspective, gave it a new immediacy for her reporting.

 

And, truth be told, sitting and listening to him, looking so fantastically, beautifully male, and telling what happened in his own words, made Joanna shiver up and down her spine and in some other places that were not polite to mention. In preparation for this interview, she had looked back through historical holograms of the way Rawn was in those times.

 

 Back then, he was a magnificent young lad who’d surely had more than a few females eagerly lie down for him. She would have been happy to be one of them. But now, he was like something out of a myth and a dream at the same time. That face, that body, what she’d seen below his waist when he was suspended in the healing vat… No female in known space had helped herself to that in more than a decade. She envied the next one who’d have the privilege.

 

“Have you seen the memorial to Dr. Phifer here at the Spires?” Rawn asked her.

 

That was another thing Joanna had gone to check out, just this morning before coming to Rawn’s suite. Out on the grounds of the Spires was a black marble obelisk, carved with the name of Jacques Phifer and the epitaph, A transforming mind, A dragon in spirit. Remembering those words and hearing Rawn’s story from his own lips, Joanna could not help but be moved in spite of her journalistic detachment.

 

“Yes, I have seen that,” she replied. “Can you tell me about your personal relationship with him?”

 

The way Rawn exhaled at the question, Joanna would not have been surprised if he’d breathed out smoke in spite of being in his human form. She could tell how heavy at heart the question made him. He took a long gulp of his berry juice before answering. “He was a warrior in his own right. Not like a Knight, of course: he was a gentle, peaceful warrior, a Knight of the mind, if you take my meaning. He was a man who conquered not physical foes, but the

unknown, which makes him every bit a hero to us. And…he was my friend.”

 

“You didn’t become friends just from working together, though,” she guessed, “or just from being his subject.”

 

“No,” Rawn shook his head. “He never treated me as just a ‘subject,’ not from the

moment I set foot in his laboratory. I’ll never forget the day I met him. I entered his lab, and he looked at me not as a Knight or a warrior and not as an experimental subject. The look on him was more like the look of an uncle, even a father. He shook my hand. He gave my arm a squeeze. He told me that I mustn’t be afraid, that he would halt the project if he ever had reason to believe he was doing me harm. He said he knew that I was good and brave, and that he was proud to know me. And that was only on the first day. The first day. Jacques Phifer was the kindest, wisest being of any species that I’ve ever met. From the beginning, he earned my trust.”

 

Joanna studied Rawn’s expression as he spoke of the scientist who had treated him so kindly. The warmth and fondness in his voice and manner were as fresh as if the whole thing had happened only yesterday. “I’m sure it was important to him,” she said, “to put you at ease, even knowing you were a Knight, that you had volunteered for this and were trained not to be intimidated by things.”

 

“I’m sure he knew all that,” replied Rawn. “But Dr. Phifer took a personal interest in me, not only my position as a Knight and what I brought to the project physically, but in me. He did not address me as ‘Sir Rawn’ or ‘Sir Knight’ or even as just ‘Rawn’. He would call me, ‘my boy.’ Sometimes ‘my dear boy’. When you’re that age, and even later in life, it’s good to know that someone older holds you in some regard, is kind to you and approves of you.

 

I was accustomed to the praise of my fellow Knights and the respect and approval of the Mentors. But the kindness of Dr. Phifer…that was very special. I trusted him implicitly. I loved him. One day, he told me that he envied me a bit. He didn’t mean it bitterly or

resentfully; he meant that he looked up to me in his own way.”

 

“How did he look up to you?”

 

“He said that as a young boy, younger than I was, he had fantasized about being a member of the Interstar Fleet, of going out into space, protecting and serving, perhaps even doing

battle alongside us Knights of Lacerta. But he was never the type for it. He was a born

intellectual, and science was where he belonged. He was not a big, strong, physically aggressive man. Many people would have dismissed him as simply a brittlehorn and thought nothing of him, but…”

 

Joanna stopped him at that point: “I beg your pardon: a ‘brittlehorn’?”

 

“An expression we have,” Rawn explained. “It means a horn that breaks from the head of an aged dragon when he is thought to be past his prime. Sometimes, we use it to mean an

ineffectual or unaggressive person. Or a person who lives too much in his mind. It’s a bit of a mockery. But Dr. Phifer was no brittlehorn. He was as strong of mind as any Knight is strong of body. And I grew to love him.”

 

Carefully, knowing she was treading on sensitive ground now, Joanna ventured the

question, “And you also trusted Dr. Sabian?”

 

The love faded from Rawn’s eyes at the mention of the other, younger scientist’s name. The affection on his face disappeared into a hard frown. “The traitor. The liar. These last fifteen years I’ve traveled across space alone, I’ve cursed that man’s name.”

 

“His entire relationship with Dr. Phifer—and with you—it was a lie from the very

beginning; that much the authorities learned.”

 

“A lie. The most wretched, filthy lie of the most corrupt man… He cost the galaxy so much. He cost me so much.”

 

“What was it like, working with the two of them together before he exposed himself as a disciple of the High Chimerian?”

 

“It was a perfect deception,” answered Rawn bitterly. “They were the perfect colleagues; the older, accomplished man and the brilliant, younger man on his way up. I would sit and listen to them for how many hours I can’t count, not understanding half the things they said because I am not a man of science, but impressed with the ease of their scientific talk.

 

Sometimes, they bantered like a teacher and a prize pupil; sometimes, they debated like friendly rivals -- students together in a classroom. Sometimes, they ended up laughing. Sometimes, they ended up exhausted. There were times when I felt as if I had disappeared from their sight

 because of how they were wrapped up in the ideas of their talk, as if science were all there was in the universe for them. But I sensed in them something like the paternal affection that Dr. Phifer had for me. And every bit of it…damn him, every bit of it was a flaming lie.”

 

“How do you think the Chimerians got to him? I mean, I know they were shape-changers and, in the beginning, no one knew how to detect them, so it was easy for them to move about and approach people without anyone suspecting them. And I’ve heard and read all the psychological theories about how the Chimerians were able to turn a man like that to their side. But personally, from having known him, what do you think it could have been that really made him betray Earth and the Commonwealth and help the Chimerians?”

 

“If you want my opinion,” Rawn answered, half-scowling, “it was greed. Pure greed. Not like the greed that once ruled Earth, the lust for money that took over people’s lives. This was something different: the greed for knowledge. The Chimerians were about controlling all life, shaping evolution and mutation to their will, transforming all living things into what one single intelligence wished it to be. They were genetic fascists, bent on ruling every man, fish, bird, and beast, and creating entire species at will to use in whatever way they liked without any thought to the consequences. And their ideas, their philosophies…I believe they were too seductive for Sabian to resist.

 

 I believe the High Chimerian must have offered him entire planets to use as his laboratories, even entire species to experiment upon. And as you know, from the records, they even gave him the power to transform himself. The lure of such power, such knowledge—it must have twisted his mind.

 

“Sewall Sabian must, at one time, have been a good man, even a noble man—but a very ambitious man. And the Chimerians must have known that and seen the way to turn his ambitions against him, and against all of us. All that they asked of him was that he stop Jacques

Phifer, who was creating a powerful new force against him. And for all that they offered him…he did as they asked. And when he did, he set me on my own mission to bring him down no matter what the cost.”

 

“The cost of what Sabian did was high enough,” said Joanna.

 

“It was plenty high,” said Rawn. “The slayer virus that Sabian used on Dr. Phifer was thorough enough; there was no way to save him from that. But just as insidious was the techno virus that he used on Dr. Phifer’s work. It spread into all of the nested, encrypted computer memories where his work was kept for security.

 

It sought out and destroyed all of his personal files that might have contained parts of the

Mythos Project. It even attacked any physical documents that he might have touched, tracking them down by his DNA. In the end, there was no way to reproduce anything that Dr. Phifer had done. The Mythos Project was destroyed. All that was left of it…was me. I would be the only dragon Knight with the powers that Phifer created. And I made it my personal mission to avenge not only my friend, but what should have been his legacy to the galaxy, even if it meant my own life.”

 

“You personally battled Sabian a few times during the Chimerian conflict, after the day he murdered Phifer,” Joanna recalled from her research.

 

“Yes,” replied Rawn. “And each time, he escaped—until that last day, that final battle.”

 

“The day you faced him at the Chimerian Warp Nexus.”

 

“That was the day,” said Rawn, a faraway look coming over him, as if he was being transported back there as they spoke. “That was the day everything could have fallen: Earth, the Commonwealth, every planet that we held and all our allies in the quadrant. The Chimerians were about to use their warp nexus, an array of hundreds of artificial wormholes drawing all the power of a blue-white star.

 

Through that nexus, they could have opened wormholes in coordinates all over known space and struck at us everywhere at once. That nexus had to be shut down, no matter what it took to do it. The Knights and the Corps both attacked; it was one of the few times the Dragon Corps was

diverted from defending our own planet. It was a two-pronged attack. The main force was to strike at the power station drawing energy from the star, which was the stronghold of the High Chimerian himself. The other force was to attack the control station, where Sabian would deploy the Chimerian forces through the wormholes. I personally led the assault on Sabian.

 

“It was a terrible battle. Ships and crews on both sides were destroyed. Space was filled with debris and bodies. And I battled my way through it all, determined that this time—this most important time—Sabian would not escape me. This time, nothing would save him from me. We both knew we were facing our last stand. The control station was under attack by our forces from all sides and from inside. We were tearing it asunder. And on the bridge platform, I faced Sabian once again.

 

We battled more fiercely than ever before. I met every shape that he took, every form that he tried to use to overwhelm me. By fire and blade, I finally struck him down. But it seemed to be too late. In spite of all the damage we had done, artificial wormholes were forming and the Chimerian vessels were set to swarm out all across the quadrant and sweep over every world we knew.

 

There was only one thing to be done. I took my own ship into the central wormhole through which the power of the entire nexus flowed. And I used the Odysseum power source of my own engine core to collapse it. The feedback imploded the entire nexus and destroyed the technology drawing on the star.

 

“At the end of the battle, the High Chimerian and Sewall Sabian were dead, their attack on the quadrant permanently crippled, the Chimerians either randomly scattered across space or destroyed, or their ships blown to nothingness.”

 

Soberly, solemnly, Joanna added, “And you were…gone.”

 

“I was gone,” Rawn said, shutting his eyes against the memory. “I thought I’d done

exactly what I set out to do, given my life to stop the Chimerians once and for all. I was

prepared to die, knowing it was in the best possible cause. I thought of Dr. Phifer and hoped he’d have been proud of me. The whole universe around me first went stark white, then blacker than space. And then, suddenly, somehow, I was still alive—but lost.”

 

“You ended up like some of the Chimerians, thrown to a random part of the galaxy, a

remote part of the Perseus Arm of the galaxy.”

 

“And I was fortunate not to have been thrown farther than that,” said Rawn. “But it was far enough that, with the depleted power of my Odysseum engine core, it was a longer journey home than anyone had ever had to take through space alone. I was cut off with limited

provisions, unable to call for help over that distance.

 

There was nothing for me but to start for home and look everywhere I went along the way for fuel, food, and supplies—and be on the lookout for unknown aliens who might consider me a trespasser in their space. I was in a danger as great as the one I’d helped to defeat, and I knew it would be years before I’d see the end of it.”

 

Almost hesitantly, Joanna mentioned, “But…it must have been overwhelming. It must have been…terrifying.”

 

Rawn went silent at that. He looked down at his emptied breakfast plate, but actually

focused on nothing. Joanna could practically feel his mind turning in on itself. She almost

regretted bringing it up.

 

“I mean…,” she went on, carefully. “As we were saying before, a Knight has his training and is expected not to back down from any situation. But still, to be so far from home, so

suddenly and completely on your own… Anyone would be terrified. It’s natural.”

 

He faced her again with the most haunted look she had ever seen in his dark eyes. It was all that Joanna could do to make herself not want to go to the other side of the table, to put her arms around him, to embrace away all the memories that must have arisen in him now. How could he have borne up under it? How could she bear to see him remember it now?

 

In a voice firm but quiet, Rawn answered, “You’re right. It is natural to be frightened, terrified, in such a situation. We Knights act fearlessly as we are trained to do. We are trained to put fear aside or to fold it up and put it in a box inside us. We are trained that to ignore fear is unwise; fear is a part of the nature of all things that have minds and hearts.

 

We act fearlessly, but we do know fear. We simply learn not to let it govern us. We learn to act through it. That is the way that any foe is faced and conquered. But the foe that I faced then, after disappearing through the nexus, was different than any other I had ever faced; different than any adversary that any other Knight has ever known.

 

My enemy that time, and for all those years, was space itself. Distance, vastness, isolation—being totally alone. It was an enormous foe, and a terrifying one, but that was the way that I made myself see it: as an enemy to be conquered.”

 

Still sympathetic but now fascinated, Joanna leaned forward, intent on hearing more. “You must have had something, though, to take your mind off what you were facing. To have to deal with that constantly, all that time, for all those years, would make anyone insane.”

 

“True. My ship’s memory did have a store of literature, art, music, things that would be used to fill the lull times on a long-term solitary mission, and I used them. There are so many cultural things that I have completely committed to memory now, from having read and listened to them over and over; they are like a part of me.

 

And where I could, I also recorded transmissions that had leaked out into space from other planets as I passed them. I’ve been exposed to the cultures of many other worlds in my travels.”

 

“And you actually visited some of those planets, didn’t you?”

 

“Some of them, yes—when I judged it was safe both for me and the inhabitants. My time alone was not completely lonely. I did a good deal of exploring. My ship’s logs contain a full record of the places that I went, the beings that I met—and sometimes battled or fled from. The Spires and the cultural and scientific bodies of the Fleet and the Commonwealth are taking a huge interest in them, I’m sure.”

 

Totally captivated now, Joanna said, “Everyone else will be too. You’ve been to places no one else ever has, seen things no one else has ever seen—all on your own. Really, all the time you were away, you went from being a Knight to being an explorer.”

 

“True. But it was not easy in any way. There was always one danger that I could never flee: the danger of gene blight so far from home, with no one knowledgeable in Lacertan medicine to help me. The breakdown of my own body could have ended my voyage, and I’d have been lost forever.”

 

“Mentor Oda talked to me about that, the things you must have had to do to keep yourself alive. I can’t even imagine…” She did not add, I can’t even imagine that body breaking down. But look at you. You’re magnificent. To see you now, with that body—that incredible body—no one would even know what you’ve been through.

 

“I did what I must,” said Rawn. “As any Knight—or any man or woman—must do. In matters of life and death, there is no other choice. It’s live or die, and you do what you must.”

 

Joanna nodded, understanding. “Yes…” After a beat, she asked, “Wasn’t there ever a time when you were tempted to stay on one of those planets, try to create a new life for yourself?”

Rawn went silent again, retreating back into deep thought, obviously remembering things—things that perhaps he was not yet prepared to share. Perhaps even things he was not ready to share with present company. He returned with, “There were times, yes. There were places that made me want to stay. Places and…people. There were…temptations.”

 

At this, he did not meet her eyes. There were memories behind those eyes, behind that look, that Joanna could tell were for Rawn alone—at least for the time being. Some of those memories, she guessed, must have been of women—females of species unknown to any world in Commonwealth space. Distant, alien, exotic females, who might show a man or dragon things that Joanna, or any woman of Earth, could never guess.

 

Where had he been, this Rawn Ullery, and with whom had he been there? With what alien women on unknown worlds had he lain, and what things had he known and shared in their beds? And what was it that now uncurled and stung inside Joanna at the thought of it? Envy? Jealousy? She had no reason, no right to feel any such thing. And yet…

 

Finally, he said, “I could never stay on any of those worlds. For reasons of my own life, I could not stay. And had I tried, not only would I have eventually faced death from gene blight, but I would have been forever the stranger, the alien; always out of place, never truly, completely at home. In time, I might have made a home somewhere out there, but it would never have taken the place of the home that I left.

 

In the end, it was always down to knowing where I belonged, and it was still a long journey away. So, in the end, I always returned to the journey, leaving behind friendships briefly made, and leaving behind…companions. There were many sad partings. Sad, but inevitable.”

 

“Still,” said Joanna, “it must have been hard, going back to space by yourself time after time, having to leave people behind. You needed your home, true. But I know a Knight has…other, different needs.” She tried to put that as delicately as she could, but the meaning still came through.

 

Rawn agreed, “We Lacertans are a very physical people. That is most true of the Knights and the Corps, and most especially true of the males. I don’t exaggerate or boast; this is the way we are. You may have heard it said that we dragon males are the most powerful in two places: in battle and in bed.”

 

Thinking back to her friend’s remark about Lacertan Knights and “things that began with the letter F,” Joanna discreetly replied, “That’s not exactly the way I heard it.”

 

He arched his eyebrows slightly. “No? However you heard it, it’s no boast. It’s true. We are intense, and we never have enough. Does it disturb you that I’m telling you this?”

 

Since she was the one who mentioned it, all that Joanna could say in response was, “As you said, everyone knows all about your…intensity. And as a mediate, I’ve heard things much more disturbing than that. The other things you’ve been talking about, for instance.”

 

“Yes. I have a long recovery to look forward to: recovering from the time I’ve been away, and putting my life back together after so very long; starting to do again the things that I did before that last battle with the Chimerians. It’s a time when I’ll have to learn to be again who I once was before I was lost.”

 

“I’m sure you’re still everything you were before you gave up so much. You’re still the man and the dragon you’ve always been.”

 

Thoughtfully, Rawn replied, “But the long time away, the long time alone with only myself to rely upon…it may have affected me in ways I cannot appreciate yet. As a Knight, I’m taught to be strong and resilient. But to have to be so strong and so resilient by oneself for so long…it may have taken a greater toll on me than I can guess, changed me in ways I do not yet know.”

 

Joanna said, “I’m sure there’ll be therapy for you. There’ll be counseling; you’ll be

assigned someone you can talk to about everything you’ve been through.”

 

“Yes,” said Rawn, “I will have counseling, perhaps for a long time to come. The

experiences I’ve had, the isolation, the physical duress, I will have to speak about them with someone on a professional basis. It will be a condition of my full readmittance to the

Knighthood. But I will need more than treatment and more than therapy to return completely to myself. There will be…other needs to which I’ll have to give proper attention.”

 

Taking the meaning of that, Joanna said, “I know you’ll have no trouble at all with

everything you need. There’s so much admiration for you out there, all over space. The whole quadrant will be waiting to open itself up to you.”

 

With a subtle smile, Rawn replied, “Things ‘opening up to me’ sounds very appealing.”

 

“They will,” she said. “Absolutely.”

 

“I’m grateful to know it,” said Rawn. “I’m grateful just to be home where, as you say, so much is waiting for me. The thought of home waiting for me is how I survived all these years. Do you know, in the time since I arrived at the spacedock, I haven’t even flown in the sky of my world yet? For so long, I’ve missed the feeling of the air of Lacerta rushing over my scales and under my wings. Just now, all I want to do is fly. Miss Way, have you ever flown with a dragon?”

 

The question startled her a bit. “It’s Joanna, please. And no, I never have.”

 

He smiled a bit more broadly, temptingly. “Can I offer you the experience? Would you like to share with me my first flight back in my home sky?”

 

Now, she was really taken aback, completely unprepared for any of this. “Oh, I don’t know…”

 

“You’re not afraid…?”

 

“No, of course it isn’t that.” Or was it? Joanna had never flown outside of an aircraft or spaceship. It was something she had always meant to try, of course; wing gliding was a popular human pastime, especially aboard space habitats. But to try it now? With him? Really?

 

With a gentle insistence, Rawn said, “After what we’ve been through together, and

knowing that I am a Knight, you know that you can trust me.”

 

Blinking, still not quite believing the proposition, Joanna said, “Yes, I know I can trust you…”

 

“If I kept you safe and did not drop you at the spacedock, I’ll surely not let you fall here, in the sky of my home. And it will be good for your story. Fly with me, Joanna. Let me take you up over the Spires, over my world. Share my homecoming flight with me.”

 

Still a bit hesitant and not knowing why—or perhaps knowing exactly why—Joanna asked, “You’re sure you don’t want this flight to be just for you?”

 

Confidently, Rawn replied, “It will mean even more to share it with the woman that I rescued. Please.”

 

Joanna considered and found no good reason to turn him down. “It would be good for my story,” she realized. “All right, Sir Rawn, I accept.”

 

Raising a finger in gentle admonition, he said, “Please…just Rawn.”

 

“All right. I accept…Rawn.” And she felt the warmth of a smile come over her face. They stood up from the table together, and Rawn said, “We may take off now.”

 

“Okay,” she said, “first, let me switch to POV.” She said to the device floating at her shoulder, “Epaulette, switch recording interface to eye lenses.”

 

“Transferring,” said the little brooch-like device, and reattached itself to her vest. At the same time, Rawn noticed a pair of tiny flashes in Joanna’s eyes, the sign of the AI connecting itself to the micro-cameras in her contact lenses. This way, the AI would capture her flight with the dragon man directly through her eyes.

 

“Now I’m ready,” Joanna said.

 

The mediate and the Knight smiled at one another, and Rawn gestured to the balcony.

_______________

Once again, Joanna knew the mix of sensations of being borne aloft in the arms of the transformed dragon Knight, but under very different and far less dire circumstances. There was no spacedock crumbling around her and jagged, ragged debris raining down everywhere she looked; no upheavals and bursts of fire. It was not a matter of life and death. If anything, it felt more like simply a matter of life.

 

With nothing around her but Rawn’s massively muscled, scaly dragon arms, Joanna found this flight a completely different experience from her last one. When he first took off with her, there had been the unsettling and queasy feeling of the ground dropping away and her

stomach wanting to stay with it, but that quickly passed with the sound of the mighty beats of his wings, the whoosh of air, and the blur of buildings and trees before her eyes as they quickly gained altitude.

 

Then, everything was quiet. Well, not exactly quiet, but the odd sort of silence of being high over the ground and having her ears filled with the open air. Joanna was reminded of how

fine-tuned the weather control system on Lacerta was when she thought that she and Rawn could not have picked a better day to do this, then realized that days on Lacerta were generally this way. The sky was a crisp blue, and the temperature, warm on the ground, was comfortably cooler way up here. Mindful of her job, she divided her attention carefully between Rawn and their flight, letting her lenses capture everything that was happening.

 

She looked up at the arching of his lengthened reptilian neck over her head and the shape of his dragon head above her, which seemed almost like a horned arrowhead pointed in the direction he was flying. From there, she turned her attention to the panorama of Silverwing, the capital city of Lacerta, spread out below them.

 

They had left the Spires behind and were arcing out over other parts of the city with its gleaming domes, towers, turrets, arches, and bridges, a place built as much for people who flew as much as for people who walked. Here and there in the sky around them, other dragon men and women flapped and swooped and banked past them and below them, and Joanna could pick out uniformed personnel as well as civilians.

 

Skimming along at lower altitudes were the air sleds of humans and dragon folk who, for whatever reason, were not using their wings at the moment. It occurred to Joanna that people all over the Commonwealth, including her, had seen holorecordings of Lacerta just like this dozens of times before. Of course, what made this one special was that it was being recorded while in flight with a long-lost conquering hero about whose return the quadrant wanted to know every detail. Her report would not be complete without it.

 

Gliding and curving in one direction, they passed over the great Silverwing Stadium, which was the venue for the major sporting events in the city—as well as the local Courting Lotteries. It was in these Lotteries that weredragons and humans were paired together as mating couples to keep the population of Lacerta healthy and growing: for the mutations that had turned the once-human colonists of Lacerta to weredragons had sharply reduced their birth rate when mating with each other, which required them to mate with humans to produce children more reliably.

 

Joanna noted that only a short time before the attack of the Scodax, a Lottery had paired the human athlete, Agena Morrow, with the Lacertan Knight, Thrax Helmer, and the two of them had gone from their mating bed to a battle in which their actions determined the fate of the planet. Joanna’s interview with them was still to come. In the meantime, there was Rawn to keep her occupied—though not occupied in the same way as Thrax kept Agena.

 

In various parts of the city, they found places where buildings and vegetation had been cleared away and new building or new planting had begun, the sign of the renewal of Silverwing in the wake of the battles with the Scodax. The capital, like the rest of the planet, was healing from the violence and horror that had so suddenly engulfed it, and it was a gratifying thing to see.

 

Despite the attention she was paying to the flight, Joanna could not help but turn in her stray thoughts to the mating of Agena and Sir Thrax, and the many hours and days they must have spent together in bed, doing every intimate thing to one another, but especially the thing intended to help produce the next generation of Lacertans. Held in Rawn’s arms and pressed against his transformed reptile chest, Joanna could not stop herself imagining how it must probably be for Agena even now.

 

Was she, at this moment, lying in bed with—or under—her lover Knight in his human form, with the weight of his naked and hard-muscled body atop her, receiving the thrusts of his most potent Knightly weapon inside her? She had read that it could take as long for a human/weredragon couple to conceive as it sometimes did for a purely human couple.

 

How much bliss would Agena know in bed with Thrax before he made her pregnant? In spite of her journalistic need for detachment, just now, Joanna felt a twinge of envy for Agena Morrow, not so much for the prospective pregnancy but for how she was getting that way.

 

Finally, with a swish of his tail, a twist of his body, and another beating of his wings, Rawn circled his way back in the direction from which they’d come and began to fly them back to the Spires. The city passed beneath them, and Joanna felt the end of their little air journey drawing near. Soon, he took them just past the towers of the Spires and over a little park, on the other side of which was the guest quarters that the Terran News Service had arranged for her.

 

It was an attractive little house of glass and white stone with ivy on the walls, where guests of the Spires sometimes stayed. All sorts of dignitaries from all over the quadrant had occupied the house at one time or another, including, Joanna guessed, some of those who ahd been there that day when Rawn stood with Drs. Phifer and Sabian when Rawn’s powers—and Sabian’s treachery—were first made known.

 

The dragon brought them down for a perfect landing in front of the entrance to the guest quarters and folded his wings. He gently set Joanna down on the lawn and held her by one shoulder, giving her a moment to get accustomed to being on the ground again. With a satisfied exhale, she said to him, “That was wonderful. That was actually…very new. Funny, I’ve been to so many places and talked to so many people, so many different beings, and I’ve never done anything like that.”

 

“The universe would be a sad place,” said Rawn, “if we could never do anything that was new to us.”

 

“You’re right,” Joanna agreed. “It would be…very sad.” Adjusting her vest and trousers, she said, “Well, I think now you’re home there’ll be a lot of happy things ahead for you.”

 

“I’ll be most happy,” said Rawn, “when I’m back to my duty—and to the full life of a Knight.” And there was, Joanna sensed, a definite and unmistakable layer of meaning twinkling in Rawn’s dragon eyes when he fixed them on her at that last part.

 

“Yes,” she said. “There’s still so many years of a great life for you, Rawn. And so many people waiting to welcome you back to it.”

 

“And for you,” Rawn said, “just now, a report to edit and complete and transmit to your service, correct?”

 

“That’s right,” said Joanna.

 

“Then, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, Joanna.”

 

“Tomorrow,” she said.

 

Rawn took a step back, lifted his dragon head back to the sky, and unfurled his wings once more, his tail curling and waving behind him. Seemingly without effort, he lifted himself with wings beating from the ground and climbed back into the air. Joanna felt the stirring of the air from his wing beats wash over her, and watched him rise overhead and over the trees. In a second, he was gone.

 

She lingered there outside the entrance of the guest house, somehow not wanting to go in just yet, wanting instead to let this moment go on a little longer. He was truly extraordinary, this Sir Rawn Ullery. He was a remarkable man, a noble hero, and a great dragon after all.

 

 

 

 

Rawn knew it would happen, and now here it was.

 

Returning to his own quarters after leaving Joanna at hers, he felt uncommonly restless after his time flying around the city with the human mediate. His pulse was still quick, even though he was not exerting himself to take off or land. Morphing back to human, he felt a tingle, almost an electricity, on his human skin. His senses felt heightened somehow. And he knew the reason.

 

He thought, perhaps, the best way to work off the energy that he felt charging him up would be to go to the Spires gymnasium and do some heavy lifting. Then, he remembered that before he "went away," the Spires had set up special equipment in the gym to accommodate his enhanced weight class. There would be no reason for that equipment still to be there, and the regular lifting and pressing devices would not pose him much more than a distraction.

 

 He needed to be more than distracted. But at the moment, distraction was all that was available to him. For want of anything else, he called up the Stellarnet and settled into a comfortable chair to view the latest feed of holotransmissions and media posts, and check his Interconnect. And in his correspondence account and media messages, there they were: the holograms and recorded messages, not only from well-wishers but admirers. Very, very interested admirers.

 

He could have predicted it. This was only natural, and he knew it was coming: dozens, even hundreds of messages from women and men alike, not just welcoming him home but

offering him invitations and propositions. Such propositions. Rawn's skin tingled more, and down below, he stiffened and rose to attention at the images of the people greeting him, the things they offered to do to him, the things they expressed an interest in him doing to them, and all the places they wanted to do them.

 

It had been this way before that great battle in which he had disappeared. Rawn had been on the receiving end of all the sexual attention usually given a Knight of Lacerta, and more. Had he so desired, he could have had a different bedmate or occupied a different bed every night of the week, and there had been some weeks when he'd enjoyed exactly that pleasure.

 

He had to admit, plenty of the women beckoning to him were exactly the sort he'd be happy to oblige. Quite a few of the men were choice as well, if his interests ran in that direction, which they did not. He had a wealth of options, not only here on Lacerta but across the quadrant. Space was full of doors open and beds turned down just for him.

 

And, just a few wing beats away, there was one human woman in particular who seemed very much to have caught his eye.

 

With a grumble that was almost a roar, he called, "Shut off!" At once, the transmissions vanished like soap bubbles suddenly popped, and Rawn was alone in his spacious suite in his comfortable chair, with the bottom of his armor skin now uncomfortably tight from what was straining against the metallic fabric. Growling, he lifted himself up from the chair and flung off the parts of his armor, strewing them across the room in an un-Knightly manner until he was stark naked and the raging length and hardness between his legs reached out like the thick limb of a tree.

 

He stroked at it, and it pulsed in his hand for want of pulsing in other places--places warm and wet and tight and very specific. Specific to one person. He cast his eyes out to one of the picture windows that he knew let out in the direction of the guest quarters, and he thought of whom he had left there. What if he had done more than just leave her there? What if he had invited himself into Joanna's lodgings--and taken her in his arms once again for a different kind of flight than they had just had? What if he had invited himself into her? Would she have accepted?

 

?

 

It was not arrogance, but fact, that Rawn had not experienced being turned down by a woman since becoming a Knight. The women he had wanted had always wanted him in return. The women who had approached him were attractive enough that he had begged off only when duty called. Sex had not been a problem for him, as it hardly ever was for a Knight.

 

But this Joanna Way, who had been assigned to do stories on him and his homecoming...would she prove to be different? Would she be the continuation of the rule or would she prove the exception? The hot ache and nagging of the male limb that he was stroking told him that he'd like to know soon. He was a Knight, and as he had discussed earlier with Joanna herself, a Knight had needs. 

 

In the years he had been away, he had not been celibate, but his sexual couplings were too few and too far between for the liking of any male weredragon. Erotic readings, holograms, and simulations had been of some help, but they had not been a real substitute for what he enjoyed most and had not had in too long.

 

Rawn turned on his heel, strode naked with his needing, aching branch bobbing at his crotch, and threw himself across the bed. Lying there on the pillows with eyes shut and legs open, he again took himself in hand and began to stroke. In his mind was the memory of Joanna Way: her face, her voice, the way she'd felt in his arms. And, in his imagination, were other things about her that he'd like to feel.

 

After so long a time without bedding a female, or so long a time bedding so few females and never knowing one of a familiar kind, what Rawn most wanted to do was put a naked Joanna on her back, spread her legs wide to display the pink, wet treasure between them, put her thighs up around his hips, and plunge what throbbed so urgently and desperately in his hand into that opening, claiming her body and her sex completely.

 

To be inside a human female once again, to feel her stretching and yielding to the penetration of his massive man-staff, to sense her body attuning itself to his while he thrust his pole hard and fast and deep into her--how glorious it would be to reclaim all those feelings with Joanna Way.

 

He yearned for her slippery, womanly wetness enclosing his shaft, tightening around his length and girth, the feeling of her arching her back as she received him into her depths, the sound of her moaning mixed with his. He wanted to lower himself down onto her, pinning her down on the bed, to press his great, hard pecs against the warm, full roundness of her breasts and feel the hardening and teasing of her nipples against him. He needed to feel his round and ample sac striking against her mound with every stroke of his erection deep inside her, and feel himself building up to that ultimate moment when he cut loose completely and released his torrent of thick man-milk into her womb.

 

The force of it, the heat and tingle of it, the sensuous explosion of it--Rawn wanted Joanna under him and submitting to him more than anything. He pressed his shut eyelids hard together and clenched his teeth in an almost animal snarl. The sound that escaped him reached up for the ceiling, even as the searing burst of his solo orgasm gripped his body and sent tremors of release through his muscles. 

 

A great, warm wave of sticky whiteness rolled forth from the blunt tip of his erection and splashed all over his abs. His body clenched in climax, then slowly relaxed until he lay sprawled on the bed, panting, covered with a sheen of perspiration, his stomach frosted with what had poured out of his slowly softening erection.

 

Rawn let his piece slip from his hand and loll against his thigh, still dripping a rivulet of seed onto his skin. He relaxed completely and did not even bother to clean himself off. He was suddenly fatigued from this solitary indulgence in fantasy, and the last thought before he slipped off into sleep was to wonder what it would take to make it real.

_______________

 

He guessed that he had been asleep for a couple of hours when his eyes blinked open. Rearing up on his elbows with a groan, Rawn felt the stickiness on his stomach and remembered that he had sunken into his nap without bothering to wipe himself down after his bout of self-pleasuring. Sighing heavily for want of having pleasured himself with certain company, he climbed off the bed and trudged naked into the bath to fill the sunken tub with warm water and then sink himself into it. 

 

Leaning against the edge of the tub with arms wide, he put his head back and shut his eyes again. In the dark shroud that he lowered over his mind, there she was: Joanna Way, as nude and inviting as he had imagined her. He quickly opened his eyes again and cursed at what was happening under the water, the new stirring and strain of a new erection.

 

Damn it all, he was a Knight. He should have a more disciplined mind than this. But, of course, there was only one thing that could disturb and intrude upon his Knightly discipline: the thought of what he most loved to do when he was not a Knight but just a man.

 

Rawn called out to the AI, "Bring up the Stellarnet Media News Feed." At once, the space over the tub was filled with holoscreens displaying every news item being fed and streamed from all over the planet. Rawn examined the array of images until he found the one of greatest interest to him. "Select the Terran News Service," he said. At once, all the holoscreens vanished, leaving Rawn with only the screen of Joanna Way's latest transmission.

 

Her face was rendered in light before his eyes as she gave her report. Rawn turned up one corner of his mouth in a smile when she cut away from the display of her interview with him earlier today to the playback of their flight over Silverwing and the commentary that she had

edited into it. She had little to say about how it had felt to be held in his arms while he flew, and he reasoned that such observations were too personal for her report. Perhaps, when he saw her next, he would ask her for her impressions of the flight. Perhaps it might lead to someplace he wanted to go--indeed, to someplace he hoped she would want to go.

 

At the end of the recording of the flight, the display returned to Joanna and her next item. "Tomorrow," she announced, "Sir Rawn will be attending the dedication ceremony of the new wing of the Lacerta Museum of History, where pieces of salvaged Scodax technology, including parts of the android bodies, will be on display. I'll be covering that and the official parade down Fafnir Boulevard to welcome Sir Rawn home.

 

Later this week, Sir Rawn will be further welcomed at an official formal gala at the Ruling Aerie, which will be attended by Alpha Dragon Toran Veles, First Dragon Marcine Veles, and First Daughter Evette Veles. Be sure to log on for my complete coverage of the homecoming of Sir Rawn here on Terran News. This is Joanna Way, concluding this report."

 

Frowning, Rawn commanded, "Shut down." The transmission ended, and the holoscreen vanished, leaving Rawn sitting in the water in a quiet bath once more.

 

A parade. And a gala ball, of all things. It seemed that the people of Lacerta had their hearts set on celebrating him within an inch of his life. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to such things. All those years ago, during the Chimerian conflict, there was a time when people celebrated him. It was after his first major victory against the Chimerians, when he had led his fellow Knights in battle to free a planet that the creatures had occupied.

 

When the word got out about Rawn's power, his valor, his might, and the way the other Knights had rallied behind him and stormed their way to triumph, he'd come home a

conquering hero. The people had poured into the streets of Silverwing to cheer and praise him. He could hear the echoes of their shouts and applause, the music they played, the expressions of love and admiration, even now.

 

 And if he were honest, Rawn had to admit he had loved it, because he had set out to protect those weaker than he, to defend the powerless, to preserve life, and because that was the day he knew he had become the Knight that he dreamed of being and that his people saw him as exactly who he wanted to be. He was proud--not vain, not arrogant, just proud--because he had done it for love of world and people, and he had succeeded fantastically in every measure. And once the day of celebration and cheering and plaudits were over, Rawn still had a war to win, worlds to protect, lives to save, a purpose to fulfill. Yes, it was glory, but it was a glory with a purpose.

 

What was the purpose of all this now? A parade in his honor, a gala ball with people dressed up and drinking and dancing in some fancily decorated space, all for the admiration of him. Rawn understood that people were happy to see his homecoming, interested in everything about him, fascinated with the powers that he alone of all Knights possessed, eager to be in his presence--and some even his bed. Or to have him in theirs. But the whole prospect of the week to come frankly made Rawn wish that some new enemy or enemies would make themselves known, would swoop in for the attack and give him something to do besides bask in the praise and adulation of an entire planet--or wish that he could simply have the chance to lie with just one female and be a man again. Not a conquering dragon, not a triumphant hero, but just a man sharing himself with a woman and enjoying it--all night long.

 

"Bane and damn," he muttered to himself. "If I'm to be petted, there is a kind of petting I'd much prefer--and one person I'd prefer it from."

 

His frustrated erection in the water underscored the point.

 

A trilling sound in the room caught his attention, and he shifted his focus to a new holoscreen opening up in front of him. Glowing letters in the hologram informed him,

INBOUND CALL FROM EVETTE VELES. ACCEPT OR DISMISS?

 

Rawn's interest perked up at this: a call from Evette Veles, of all people--the daughter of the Alpha Dragon himself, whom Joanna had just mentioned. As Evette was one of the most prominent people on Lacerta, it came as no surprise that she would be calling him now. It could only be about the upcoming gala.

 

"Accept," said Rawn.

 

At once, the image on the holoscreen resolved itself into the picture of a young woman in her early twenties. Rawn remembered being introduced to her back in the days of his early Knighthood, when her father was a rising Colonial Legislator.

 

She was only a child then. He still saw something of that child in the stunning, young, auburn-haired woman greeting him through the transmission now. Her eyes were as green as a dragon's scales, the reddish-brown hair fell provocatively over her shoulders, and she showed exactly the amount of cleavage in her blouse to attract attention. Her smile was as warm as his bath water.

 

His bath water? Rawn's eyes bulged at the realization that he was about to speak to the daughter of the ruler of the planet without having even gotten out of the bath and put something on.

 

"Sir Rawn?" Evette addressed him cordially, noticing his state of undress and where he was. "Have I called at an inopportune time?"

 

Rawn felt a bit like a grazer in the headlights of an oncoming hovercar, and froze in the warm water. "Ms. Veles," he said, "I apologize for not being more presentable..."

 

Evette almost chuckled a bit. "Please, think nothing of it. I should have thought to voicelink first. It's good to see you again after so many years. May I call you Rawn?"

 

"Yes...yes, of course, Ms. Veles. I'm at your service. How may I help you?"

 

She smiled more broadly and chuckled a little louder. "You may start by calling me

Evette the way you did before. I wanted to get in touch before the gala. You do know about it, of course..."

 

"Yes, I know. I just heard Joanna's...," his voice caught a bit at the mention of the

mediate's name, "...I just heard the announcement of it."

 

"I hope you're looking forward to it," Evette said.

 

"Yes, I am, very much," he replied, exerting every effort into sounding sincere.

 

"Good!" Evette said. "Then, perhaps, it's not too early to ask if you're escorting anyone."

 

Rawn blinked and suddenly wondered whether he had turned redder or grown more pale. Numbly, he repeated, "Escorting...?"

 

"Well, yes. To be sure, you'll be wanting to attend with someone. Is there anyone yet who'll be coming with you?"

 

The only thing, the only person, who entered Rawn's mind was Joanna Way, but as a member of the media covering the event, she was not an option. Bane and damn, he thought again. And aloud, he answered, "Ah, no. I hadn't asked anyone."

 

"I'm sure there are those who'll be asking you," said Evette. "Which is why I hope you won't find me too forward if I ask you now. Would you like to escort me to the gala, Rawn?"

 

At this point, Rawn's mind positively reeled. He was actually being asked to a gala in his honor by the ravishingly beautiful young daughter of the leader of the planet, a young woman for whose company men across the quadrant would likely kill or die. She was coming to him. What could he say?

 

"I'd be very pleased to escort you to the gala, Evette," was the only answer he found

possible and appropriate. There was nothing else to say.

 

"Excellent!" Evette said, her grin turning to the most beaming smile that Rawn had ever seen on a woman. And he had put more than a few smiles on the faces of more than a few

women in his day. "You'd best get a formal armor skin ready."

 

"Yes, I will," said Rawn. "And I'll look forward to seeing you again."

 

"And I'll look forward to seeing you," said Evette with a tone and a look that hinted at more than a passing interest in seeing what was under the water of Rawn's bath.

 

"Until then," Rawn said.

 

"Until then," Evette repeated, and the holoscreen disappeared, ending the call.

 

Rawn slumped backward against the edge of the sunken tub, his face turning up to the ceiling, and gave a long, rumbling exhale. The surprise of Evette's call had softened his erection a bit, but it still nagged at him. And along with it was a measure of confusion.

 

Evette Veles had grown up while he was away, the little girl becoming a young woman who was every bit a Princess, in spite of her not being actual royalty. She was beauty and grace and charm and poise and humor and intelligence, all wrapped up in one incredibly alluring auburn-haired package. And if she was as compellingly lovely as this in her human form, how much more so must she be when she morphed to dragon?

 

She was everything in the universe that Rawn should want. His erection should rightly have been for her. There was only one thing that the daughter of the Alpha Dragon of Lacerta lacked, one way in which she fell short of Rawn's aroused fantasies.

 

For everything that made her so desirable, she was not Joanna Way.

 

Why was it that one common human female mediate should captivate him more than a dragon female of such station and breeding? Rawn did not know. But his heart--and another important part of him--seemed very much to know what they wanted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first of the public events on Rawn's agenda was not specifically about him, for which he was grateful, but his return had coincided with it, and he had become a major attraction. Rawn honestly wished that he was not getting so much attention at the dedication of the new wing of the Lacerta Museum of History.

 

It ought to be about commemorating the crisis through which Lacerta had passed, and the brave service of the Knights and the Corps that had pulled the colony through. By rights, Rawn thought, it should be about the other Knight who was also attending as a guest of honor, and the human female he had taken as a mate, whom he was diligently trying to make pregnant.

 

Before the assembled citizens, members of the media, dignitaries and officials, Museum

administration and members of the arts and humanities community, and high-ranking members of the Knighthood, both Sir Thrax Helmer and Agena Morrow gave speeches about their experience of the Scodax invasion and their respective roles--in particular Agena's actions--in saving Lacerta from the alien aggression.

 

Rawn was pleased to see so much attention going to the two of them. It left him free to focus his own attention on Joanna as she recorded and commented on the proceedings. The more time he spent in the presence of Joanna Way, the more beautiful he found her. It was a quieter, more subtle beauty than that of Evette Veles. There was, Rawn thought, a softer kind of sparkle about her. She had a keener and more probing intelligence, which was entirely fitting for her profession. It made him all the more interested in "probing" Joanna herself.

 

After Sir Thrax and Agena finished their speeches, it was Rawn's turn to speak. He said nothing about himself, choosing instead to praise the Knights and Corps members who had so valiantly defended Lacerta from the madness of the Scodax and to wish he returned during the invasion instead of after it; he would surely have lent every sinew of his dragon body and every spark of his dragon breath to putting the Scodax to rout, even at the cost of his own life, weakened as he was by gene blight at the time.

 

Following this, there were picture opportunities for Thrax and Rawn to stand before the cameras and recorders and capture this historic meeting of heroes for posterity. The two Knights clasped hands and put their arms round one another's shoulders, and a thousand holograms were taken to spread across the quadrant.

 

Once this was done, all that remained was a final dedication. A tall torch in the form of a sconce at the top of a silver post was set up in front of the entrance to the new wing. As Joanna and her fellow mediates captured the moment, Rawn stood a few meters from the torch and shifted to dragon form. He gave out a fiery breath, and a jet of flame shot forth from his mouth and arced upward through the air to land in the bowl of the sconce, igniting the fuel that it

contained. A plume of fire burst in the torch, and the addition to the museum was officially opened.

 

A tour of the new exhibit immediately followed. Rawn walked along with the rest of the invited guests and media to look at the pieces of Scodax technology on display, the weaponry and the parts of the android bodies, and remembered how it was only a short time ago when he first arrived back in orbit of Lacerta, when he knew nothing of the Scodax but saw only that a spacedock was exploding and knew only that people were in danger and he must act.

 

This inevitably brought his attention back to Joanna, who had been so shocked at his appearance and held on to him so tightly as he flew her to safety. He spent more time watching her than he did viewing the exhibit, thinking all the while of how he might soon get her into his arms again for a very different reason. He cast a few knowing glances at Thrax and Agena as well, fully aware of where the two of them would surely go and what would surely be occupying their time when they got there.

 

The looks that passed between the two of them were filled with the memory of hours, days, and nights of sex and the promise of more yet to come. Rawn felt a pang of envy at them as he

contemplated the same with Joanna. He was going to have to do something about this, and soon. Between now and the gala, some opportunity must present itself. If and when it did--and Rawn would do everything to make it a "when"--he would act.

 

The next thing to get through was the parade.

 

Late in the afternoon, they came marching down Fafnir Boulevard, playing horns and beating drums. There were musically talented Knights and Corps members, and students from the schools and colleges of Silverwing, all in loud and colorful procession down the widest

thoroughfare of the planetary capital. They marched proudly past the great, golden Arch of the Knighthood at the place where a side road led up a tree-lined hill leading to the Spires.

 

Under the Arch, which was engraved with dragon symbols, there was a stage where Rawn stood with Dame Sienna and other high-ranking Mentors, and nearby and on the opposite side of the street were members of the media, recording away. A few select members of major media outlets stood on the stage with Rawn, among them Joanna.

 

As the parade marched by, Rawn stood at the front of the stage and waved and acknowledged his admirers, and as each new group of marchers appeared, he saluted them by holding up his glowing powerblade in tribute. As much as he welcomed his people’s honors and the genuine

affection with which they presented them, Rawn could have done without the spectacle. He had no need for it. He was a Knight. He needed a task to perform, a mission to fulfill, a quest to pursue.

 

Or a female to bed. One female in particular would do most nicely. At those brief moments

between one parade group passing by and the next one appearing, he stole glances at Joanna commenting on the proceedings and capturing his reactions to them. How much more pleasing it would be, he thought, if the two of them could be making a much more private display just for each other?

 

_______________

 

Joanna had already tried on the gown that she’d ordered for the gala. It fit perfectly.

Strapless and silken, it had gold filigrees down the sides and along the hem which would fall at her ankles and would go perfectly with the white Aldebaran leather shoes she had picked out. Only upon seeing the simulation of herself wearing it when she first ordered it did it occur to her that it made her look almost like a bride. To remind Joanna that, for her, this ball was a job, a gold ribbon tied at her shoulder, to which Epaulette would attach, would complete her ensemble.

 

To remind her further of how she would be spending that evening, there was the official release that had come from the Alpha Palace Media Bureau.

 

She sat down on the bed next to the gown, careful not to sit on the garment itself, and said, “Epaulette, play back the press release that I bookmarked this morning.”

 

The AI cast into the air the holographic transmission of Evette Veles smiling for the camera as she talked up her plans for the Welcome Ball for Sir Rawn Ullery. “I’m very much

looking forward to it. You’ve seen the guest list for the ball, of course, and that’s exciting enough. But it’s especially exciting for me, since I’m going to have the very personal honor of being escorted by Sir Rawn himself…”

 

Joanna watched and listened with a most unprofessional frown. In all her years as a

mediate, of meeting and socializing with famous people and watching and reporting on the

doings of celebrities, she had never felt a twinge of envy or a pang of jealousy. And she had no business feeling any such thing now, she was sure.

 

In spite of the way she’d met Rawn, and in spite of having been assigned to cover his return on such an in-depth, up-close-and-personal basis, she had kept her entire approach to him, her entire relationship with him, on a strictly professional level. At every step, she had not acted as if she and Rawn were anything but a journalist and her subject. And that was the way it should be. And yet…

 

There she was, this de facto Princess of a planet, enthusing in her genteel and refined way about Rawn escorting her to the ball. Joanna had no right to be in any way disturbed or ruffled about any of this. In her position, Evette Veles was accustomed to associating with men of the highest standing and station, and men of the greatest desirability. No doubt she had even been bedded by her share of them. And Rawn was a dragon Knight, accustomed—at least before his disappearance—to plentiful sex with any female he liked. It stood entirely to reason that Rawn would be escorting Evette to more than just the ball.

 

The hologram of Evette went on, “I was just looking at the saved scans of the day I was introduced to Sir Rawn when I was just a little girl. Even back then, I can remember how

wonderful I thought he was, how big and strong and kind. I think I actually told him I wanted to marry him when I grew up. It’s the kind of thing that an awestruck little girl does, you know. He was kind enough not to remind me of that.” The Alpha’s daughter gave a ladylike

little laugh that flashed her perfect Princess smile for the camera. And Joanna felt her stomach turn to lead.

 

Shaking her head, Joanna said, “Epaulette, end playback.” At once, the hologram in the air dissipated like smoke, taking away the image of Evette and the sound of her voice. Joanna, alone again in a silent bedroom in her guest quarters, gave herself a moment to take a deep breath and settle and organize her thoughts. She mentally went over the list of other guests—guests who were not Sir Rawn Ullery and Evette Veles—that she would be seeing, and the

 questions she would ask them about their memories of Sir Rawn in the days of the Chimerian conflict.

 

Seeing and speaking to all of them, she knew, would be a welcome distraction from the sight of the greatest and most desirable Knight of Lacerta with the daughter of the ruler of the planet on his arm, sipping champagne with her, laughing with her, dancing with her, holding her…and from the idea of what he would likely be doing with her later in the evening.

 

Joanna was, all at once, very conscious of the fact that she was frowning, and she forced herself to stop. She had no claim on Rawn. She was who she was, and he was who he was, and as Shakespeare had put it eight hundred years ago, “never the twain would meet.” She felt

relieved, in a way. After the ball, her assignment to cover Sir Rawn’s return to Lacerta would be over.

 

Philosophically, she realized she should be grateful for all this. She had come to Lacerta for one choice story, the recovery of the planet from the Scodax invasion. In the bargain, she had gotten a second, even bigger story and had been a personal—very personal—witness to a legend returning from the past, to history coming back to life. It was a huge professional coup. From this, she would no doubt get her choice of the best assignments from now on. Her career was on its way up, like…

 

…like a strong, proud, handsome, beautiful dragon spreading his wings and taking flight.

 

After the effort of recovering her composure, Joanna actually winced at the thought. She really had to put it that way, didn’t she?

 

None of this was doing her any good, she knew. She had a job to finish. A few nights from now, she would go to the ball and cover the event and do her usual impeccable job. Then, she would return here to her guest quarters and get a good night’s sleep. And first thing the next morning, she would head for the spaceport and leave the planet Lacerta and its Knights—including that one Knight—behind. With his Princess or whatever other fetching female he liked. And that was as it should be.

 

Joanna picked herself up from the bed and headed for the bath. She had a job to do, and a job was all that it would be.

_______________

 

The spaceship cruised halfway between Catalan, the star, and Lacerta, its inhabited

planet. Careful to stay just outside of Lacertan space, where it would not be picked up on the routine security scans and patrols of the Knights, it had been there since the upheaval with the Scodax, monitoring every transmission that came from Lacerta and everything that took place

in the vicinity of the planet. Things had been very eventful as of late. Very eventful indeed.

 

The solitary occupant of the craft sat calmly on the bridge, watching the telescopic view of Lacerta and the images on his monitors and the holograms in the air around him. The broad-shouldered man with dull blond hair and narrow eyes looked much the same now as he had looked on the day when he first tipped his hand and struck a blow for the High Chimerian, removing that fool, Phifer, as a threat. He had changed very little, thanks to anti-aging science, in general, and the genetic mastery of the Chimerians, in particular.

 

 Of course, he had recovered perfectly from the injuries dealt him in that last battle with his most hated foe, the battle that had cut short the vision of the High Chimerian and deprived the galaxy of that glorious genetic unity that the Chimerians had promised. But soon, that magnificent vision would have a second chance.

 

It was, perhaps, poetic justice that before he initiated his future plans, there was one critical detail to be dealt with. If there was such a thing as fate, naturally it would have decreed that at the same time as the man aboard the ship returned, so would his enemy.

 

He had filled every monitor and every hologram with the media reports on what the quadrant had greeted with such wonder and excitement. Arrayed before him were images of that upstart young Knight who had been the recipient of Phifer’s foolish genius. If anything, the passing years had made him look even more like the insufferably righteous hero he had been way back then.

 

The quadrant was swooning and fawning and genuflecting over him now even more than it had fifteen years ago, if such a thing were possible. And why not? After all, was he not their lost hero come home? Was he not their living miracle? No doubt all the worlds of the Commonwealth and its allies would look to their long-lost champion as their savior or their

rallying point once again in the days to come.

 

They would—if Dr. Sewall Sabian was not going to destroy Sir Rawn Ullery, as he should have succeeded in doing at the Chimerian Nexus.

 

Sabian watched all the images before him, and in his mind, he relived all the

 confrontations, all the battles, all the times he’d had to beat a hasty, last-minute escape after the wretched, upstart, fire-breathing Knight had undone some Chimerian plan to bring the galaxy to heel. And he cursed himself for not removing the Chimerians’ nemesis in advance.

 

 He could have simply sabotaged Phifer’s experiments in progress, doomed the self-righteous boy while they busied themselves at mutating him, and ended his career of defying and thwarting the Chimerians before it ever started. But no, he had kept to the plan and made Phifer his target, leaving Ullery to become the spearhead of the Knights’ opposition.

 

Well, that was the good thing about second chances. They brought with them the

opportunity to correct past mistakes. This time, before he struck at the Commonwealth of Worlds, he would first eliminate its champion. This time, Sir Rawn Ullery would fall at the

 beginning, and the Chimerians would triumph at the end. Sabian required only the means to

 accomplish it. And in the images before him, he found what he needed.

 

For all his strengths and powers, Sir Rawn Ullery had one inherent weakness, one very necessary weakness. It was a weakness that all the Knights shared in common. Even more than he was a dragon, Sir Rawn was a man—a man with feelings, needs, and appetites of all men,

appetites that he had never failed to satisfy, hero that he was. There were some things that Rawn needed even more than he needed to be the great hero of his people. And there before him were two images of those needs.

 

Sabian watched the recordings of Rawn’s interviews and personal flight with the mediate, Joanna Way, and he knew what must have been going through the young Knight’s mind. After so many long years away from his home space, the beautiful journalist must have looked so very inviting for something more than just sessions of questions and answers.

 

There must have been such hunger in the young dragon man as he sat with her, talked with her, held her in his arms in flight over Silverwing. Sabian should not have been at all surprised if, after the flight interview, the noble Knight had not stolen away with her for hours of naked satisfaction of pent-up needs. Or if he had not, he had surely wanted to.

 

And then there was the Alpha Dragon’s daughter, perhaps an even more tempting choice, and one free of the professional detachment of a mediate. Evette Veles was beautiful, graceful, charming, refined, high-born—and being a dragon herself, she was no doubt every bit as

ferocious as Ullery would like between the sheets. If Sir Rawn had not slept with Joanna Way, in all likelihood, he would soon be offering his dragon manhood to Ms. Veles.

 

Sabian settled in his chair, folded his hands, and watched and considered. The process of life was, after all, about solving problems. And the way to solve the problem of an interfering dragon was to strike where he was most vulnerable: to attack him at his loins.

 

 

 

 

When Joanna stepped out of the tub after her shower, it was to the sound of thunder in the distance.

 

Immediately, her nerves were on edge. She pulled her robe on more tightly and went to the window of her bedroom. Everything outside seemed normal. There were no sounds of screaming, no sounds of explosions or destruction. But again, there were those thundering sounds—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—like something being fired from an enormous gun or a

massive cannon.

 

Her mind raced through all the possibilities of what it could be. A sense of dread overtook her. Was this another Scodax booby trap being sprung? Was this more trouble for Lacerta? Having come here to cover the aftermath of an invasion and ending up covering the return of a long-lost hero, would she now be documenting a disaster in progress, or even be thrust into the role of a war correspondent?

 

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Joanna listened intensely to the ominous sounds, trying to hear from what direction they were coming. She looked in the direction of the trees over which Rawn had flown when he dropped her off at the end of their flight, and suddenly she knew.

 

They were coming from the Spires. Something was happening to the Spires.

 

Epaulette was lying on her bed next to the ball gown that Joanna now wondered whether she would have the chance to wear. She ran to the bed and picked up the AI, and asked it,

“Epaulette, search all incoming data. Identify sounds coming from the general coordinates of the Spires.” BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

 

The device in her hand took only a second to produce an answer. It said, “Dragon games are now in progress at the Spires.”

 

Joanna was perplexed now. “Dragon games?”

 

“A form of practice centered on agility and speed in flight and accuracy in tracking and acquiring a target. Now displaying.”

 

In the air around Joanna appeared a collection of holographic recordings of the event that her AI described. On the grounds of the Spires, a rail gun was set up to fire polymer spheres into the air, composed of a porous material strong enough to withstand the rigor of being launched from the powerful device and the puncturing force of being caught in weredragon

talons at a high velocity in mid-air.

 

The object of the “dragon games” was for the participants to chase the polymer spheres through the air, overtake them, snag them, and return with them. Joanna watched the recordings, her fear and anxiety turning to fascination, and saw the Knights in dragon form take part in the training event. It actually made her smile to see them take off like scaly, winged rockets in pursuit of the porous projectiles and go arcing swiftly up into the sky after them. They reminded her not so much of strong, brave, bold Knights as they did a lot of flying dogs playing fetch.

 

“Discontinue playback,” Joanna said. The holograms disappeared. Then, setting

Epaulette back on the bed, she looked up towards the window and once again heard, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. To herself, she said softly, “I have to see this.” And she darted off in the

direction of her closet to find some casual clothes.

_______________

 

Joanna’s press credentials got her readmitted to the grounds of the Spires, and she went quickly in the direction of the sound of the rail gun. Soon, she came to an open field where the device was set up at an angle to fire the spheres high overhead, as she had seen in the recordings. A dragon Mentor was operating it, and standing in small groups all around were Knights of varying ranks and a few members of the Corps in their reptile forms.

 

 To her continued amusement, the Mentor fired off the spheres three at a time, as she had heard—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!—and at each launch, three dragons hurled themselves up with furious beats of their wings and thrashes of their tails, and were away like missiles. She peered upwards into the cloudless sky and could make out winged, soaring forms chasing little flying dots.

 

Something caught her attention back on the ground. One Knight, standing patiently by with arms crossed and wings folded but twitching, seemed to have smoke hanging over his head. No, not hanging over his head—rising from it. Of course: who else would it be?

 

Joanna called out: “Rawn?”

 

The dragon turned and showed his face and the curls of anxious smoke wafting from his nostrils, and in a familiar voice, he called back, “Joanna!”

 

She walked up to him, imagining from the tone of his voice that, if he were wearing his human face, he would be smiling at her. “Rawn,” she said, “I heard the noise from this and didn’t know what to think at first. Or I should say, I'm glad this didn’t turn out to be anything like what I was thinking.”

 

“Yes,” he replied, the smoke from his nose ebbing away, “I can guess how this would be startling to someone not from Lacerta, who did not live in Silverwing and was not accustomed to it. This is one of our favorite games.”

 

“I know it’s a training exercise,” Joanna said, “but it certainly looks like everyone is enjoying it.”

 

They both returned to watching the figures flying up above. “When I finished with my swim at Lake Shimmershine today,” said Rawn, “and I returned here, they asked me to join them in dragon games. They said they would be honored to have me play. Actually, the

honor is mine. To be in the company of my fellow Knights, to practice skills with them, is one of the things I missed the most in the years when I was away. Alone aboard my ship, I would often dream of this very thing.” His voice took on a faraway tone, as if he were lost and adrift

somewhere inside himself, even as he was lost in alien space for so long a time.

 

“I’ll bet you were one of the best at this,” Joanna said.

 

He looked down and over at her, and she could swear that she saw a twinkle of

appreciation in his dragon eyes.

 

On the other side of the rail gun from them, a Knight clutching a ball in his gauntleted hand came swooping in for a landing on the grass, and in the air just above him, two more were flying down with their own catches in hand. The incoming Knight flew in a circle before he touched down, and the ones on the grass before him applauded. Joanna recognized this as the dragon equivalent of a victory lap.

 

The other two flew laps of their own, to similar applause, before they landed on the grass with their friend. Joanna could not help but be charmed to see these fearsome, powerful beings at play. For all their power and ferocity, the Knights seemed so innocent now.

 

Standing nearby were a pair of young dragon Knights, one male, one female. The male called, “Sir Rawn, we’re up. The Mentor is about to launch for us.”

 

Rawn acknowledged the young dragon and said to Joanna, “My turn has come.” And another little pair of smoke curls blossomed up from his nostrils. Joanna understood that this was Rawn’s unique expression of being happily keyed up. There was a fire of excitement inside him. She could guess at other things that must stoke his fire as well.

 

She let him go to join his companions, and stood by and watched as the Mentor placed three new spheres in the long, upward pointed barrel of the training device. The dragons spread their wings and tensed their tails. The Mentor pressed down his hand on the firing mechanism, and again came the sounds that had brought Joanna out of her quarters:

 

 BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! This time, as she was right by the rail gun, the sounds were much louder, and she could feel the concussive thunder of their firing in her bones. She blinked and took a little step backward with a hand on her chest. But the reaction from the trio of dragons was much faster.

 

In the same instant that the spheres went shooting in a blur into the air, Rawn and his two friends leapt up with slashing tails and furious wing beats, and took off. Smiling, Joanna watched them go. She almost laughed at how quickly Rawn and the other two receded into the distance above and became tiny winged figures against the blue canopy of the sky.

 

Joanna kept her eyes fixed on Rawn to follow his progress as he went hurtling after what now looked like a little speck high above the trees. She watched him follow a swift and unerring arc in the direction of his target, going into a curling turn before looping back around. In seconds, his dragon figure started into a new arc, speeding back in the direction he came, and swiftly began to loom larger against the sky. Gradually, she began to hear the beating of his wings as she made out the details of his form and his armor, and he quickly descended back, his tail curling proudly, his wings braking his descent with strong beats. His feet touched down on the grass, and he held high in one hand the sphere that he had expertly retrieved.

 

The other Knights around him threw up their arms and flapped their wings and gave forth a sound of exuberant whooping, a noise that Joanna did not know weredragons were capable of making. She smiled at them, watching the other Knights mill around Rawn and the other two who had gone up with him come in for landings of their own, holding up their own recovered spheres. Though this was a moment that Joanna could not really share with them, she could feel how happy and proud they were just to be who and what they are and to do what they, unique among all the creatures in the galaxy, could do.

 

Joanna spent the rest of the game session there, standing with Rawn to watch the others go up, and watching when he went up on a couple of other runs. She appreciated that she was seeing a side of the Knights of Lacerta that few other outsiders had ever seen, and she was glad to be able to be there and share this with Rawn. She hoped that at least some of the curls of smoke from his dragon snout were for her.

 

Late in the afternoon, the gaming session ended. The Mentor deactivated the rail gun, and the throng of Knights all morphed back to human and walked off across the field to whatever other concerns they had for the day. Rawn, taking back his human shape from his reptile form, walked from sharing salutations with his companions back to Joanna. Again, he faced her as the most magnificent man she had ever seen. Smiling softly at her, Rawn asked, “Would you like to have a walk with me?”

 

“Yes, I would very much,” she replied.

 

And so they walked together along the paths through the grounds of the Spires, past stands of trees and rows of hedges and beds of flowers, and together they talked.

 

“My counseling sessions have begun,” Rawn told her. “My counselor is a very

knowledgeable and understanding female. She has worked with other Knights who have come through very traumatic situations in battle, though of course none who have experienced what I have. She has done her best to put me at ease with expressing my feelings about my long time away. But it has not been easy.”

 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve said a lot of things that were very confidential,” said Joanna. “You don’t have to tell me any of the details; I understand what it must be like.”

 

“It isn’t easy to unburden myself of all these feelings,” he said. “Even talking with you, I haven’t expressed everything I’ve felt about what happened, and everything that I had to go through. We Knights are trained not to let feelings like that take us over, not to let them rule us. Remember what I told you before about fear. To reveal these feelings, even confidentially with a counselor, even when it is approved and sanctioned, is to resist the way we’ve been trained. It’s…very difficult.”

 

“I’m sure it would be,” Joanna said as empathetically as she knew how. “You know, I’m happy just to keep you company. You don’t have to tell me anything that you’re not comfortable saying.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Rawn said. “But my counselor says that expressing feelings—within limits—will do me good. Especially feelings that are truly important. She says that holding back the important feelings will hinder my recovery. In some ways…I must be open now, even if it is against my instincts.”

 

Joanna suddenly felt a bit nervous. She was not quite sure what to make of what he was telling her now. Where could this be going? Tentatively, she asked, “Open…about what?”

 

“There are…some things I need to say,” Rawn replied. “Can we sit for this?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Joanna answered, thinking that sitting down would likely be the best way to have whatever conversation they were about to have.

 

They found themselves a secluded spot where a marble bench stood nestled amid trees and shrubs. Rawn let Joanna sit down first, then he sat at a comfortable distance from her on the bench and thoughtfully began.

 

“Joanna,” he said, “on returning home, the first person that I saw was you. We met in a time of danger, and after I rescued you, you saw me at my weakest, most vulnerable moment--physically."

 

“That’s true, yes,” she said.

 

“Since then,” he continued, “we have spent much time together. Being with you,

speaking with you, has been part of my return to the life that I knew, just as the game was today. I've been taking back my life, one part, one piece at a time. I've been returning not only to my home, but to myself. You can understand that, can't you?"

 

“Of course,” she agreed. “You've been away from everything you knew. Your life for so long, I'm sure it wasn't anything you could even recognize. It must have felt like you weren't even really yourself sometimes."

 

"It almost did feel that way. At times, I feared I would lose myself in some other world not my own, in some space that was not my home. I had only my station as a Knight, my training, my purpose to hold on to, to remember who I was, what my life was and what it meant. For much of the time, it was all that I had."

 

“I understand that,” said Joanna. “But you came through it because that’s who you are. You’re a champion, Rawn. You’re a hero.”

 

He sighed at that, as if the thought, for some reason, sat heavily on his heart. "That is what everyone thinks of me, I know. And I've done everything to be that. I'm proud that I'm able to be that. But Joanna...being home again, being with my people, my fellow Knights...it has

 reminded me that there are other things I need. Being with you has reminded me that, as proud as I am, and for everything I can do, I am not only a Knight."

 

“You're a good man, Rawn,” said Joanna. “Being as brave and strong and good as you are, that didn't come from being a Knight. You being a Knight came from who you are. I know that."

 

“I’m pleased that you know that,” he said. “I'm pleased that you think I'm a good man. But Joanna, at the end of it all...I am a man. A dragon...and a man." He paused meaningfully. "Joanna, in the short time we've known each other, I've grown fond of you. And I think you've grown as fond of me."

 

“I have, yes,” she replied.

 

“Then, I must ask you: Have you ever had any thought of me as something other than a story, or as a subject to interview?"

 

Joanna gulped a bit at the question. “Like I said, I think of you as a good, kind, brave man.” She had a very keen sense now that he was not going to leave it at that.

 

And then, he put the thought out there: "Have you thought of me as a man that perhaps you'd like to know in another way?"

 

There was another pause now, a shared pause, deeper and longer than the last.

Finally, she answered. "Rawn, everyone thinks the world of you. And I'm sure people everywhere think you're..." At this, she shut down for fear that anything she said next would take them further to a place where she did want them to go. Then, carefully, she continued, "Rawn, there are a million people out there who think you're beautiful. Handsome....beautiful...desirable. There are a million people who'd love to know you, be close to you...be with you. They've probably been sending you all kinds of messages, telling you all kinds of things, showing you all kinds of interest. And I don't blame them."

 

“Does that include you? Is that what you think of me?”

 

She started, “I think…” And again, she could not go on.

 

He watched her intently. "It is, isn't it? You find me desirable. You can tell me, Joanna. I've thought of you a great deal, and not only as a mediate interviewing me for her story. I've thought of you as an intelligent and very beautiful woman. A woman I'd like to know much

better--in a way that I think you'd like to know me as well."

 

Flatly, she answered, “That can’t happen, Rawn.”

 

“Why not?”

 

"You know why. You've said it yourself. I'm a mediate; you're my story. That's our

relationship. That's the only relationship we can have."

 

“Why?”

 

Joanna started to grow flustered. She brushed nervously at her hair with her fingers. "What do you mean, 'why?' It's what I just said. There are lines, Rawn--boundaries. Ethics. Journalistic ethics. If I'm covering you as a story, that's our relationship, and it can't go any

further. It's about my integrity. If I'm covering a story, it's my job to stay outside the story, to be impartial. To report, to show, to comment--from outside. Impartially.

 

No other involvement, no bias. That's what I do, and that's how I'm obligated to do it. It's how my profession and my audience trusts me to do it. If I compromise that, I throw away everything my work is supposed to be about. There's meant to be a line between me and the story. That's how it has to be."

 

“Is there also a line between you and your feelings?” Rawn asked.

 

“My job is to put my feelings aside when I report a story,” Joanna protested. “Rawn, if I cross the line for one story, if I compromise myself one time, everything else I do professionally will be judged by that. Everything I do will be suspect. There's a trust between me and my

Audience, and there's an understanding between me and my profession. If I make one personal compromise, I compromise everything from then on. Nothing happens in a vacuum, Rawn. Everything is tied to everything else."

 

“So your ethics are so important to you that you would sacrifice something that you

really want?”

 

Joanna asked back, “Aren’t your ethics that important to you? Rawn, they must be! Is your integrity something you can just put aside when it's convenient? I don't believe that."

 

Rawn looked down for a moment, sighing hard, before looking back at her. “Joanna,” he began, “there have been females that I've saved from danger, who have come to me when the danger was over and expressed their gratitude and their admiration. And I have lain with them and given them times that neither they nor I will ever forget. And I am no less a Knight because of it. I am still the same man, the same dragon, and the same Knight that I have always been, no matter whose bed I've shared or whom I've taken to my bed. I know who I am. My fellow Knights know who I am. Whom I lie with doesn't change that."

 

“It’s different for me, Rawn,” said Joanna. “It just is. And anyway, there's something else. The whole planet and everyone else in the quadrant knows you're going to your welcome ball with Evette Veles--the daughter of the leader of this planet. How will it look to your world and everyone who admires you and sees you as a hero if you're escorting the Alpha Dragon's daughter and sleeping with me?

 

Have you considered what people will think? And not only that, think of what it would do to me professionally, not just personally, but in my career. People are supposed to trust me—the

public, other mediates, the bureau that I work for. If this got out, it would go ahead of me

everywhere I went. People expect honesty from me. They trust me to tell them the truth. If I had a relationship with the subject of a story—who also happened to be seeing someone in

Evette’s position on this planet—what would they think of my honesty?"

 

“Why should anyone know?” Rawn asked. “I would not tell them. Would you?”

 

“Listen to how that sounds. See me in private and see Evette in public, and no one’s the wiser? We both deserve better than that.”

 

"Joanna, I've learned that life is too unpredictable to dwell always on what we deserve. Sometimes, we must take what's in front of us when it's there.”

 

"And what happens then? Rawn, I'm not going to be here on Lacerta much longer. After the ball, I'm scheduled to leave. Even if we do this now, we won't have much more than a few days. Then, I'll be gone, and it'll be you and Evette, or you and whoever else."

 

“Evette,” said Rawn, “is someone that I met when she was a little girl. In some ways, I still think of her as that little girl."

 

Joanna almost laughed at that. “Trust me when I tell you this, Rawn. Give her a chance, and you’ll see her very differently. She’ll make sure of it.”

 

“I will not see her the way that I see you.”

 

“But soon, I’ll be gone.”

 

“All the more reason to do what we wish, when we can.”

 

Joanna shook her head, frowning, feeling utterly unable to let this go on a minute longer. She stood up quickly from the bench and said firmly, “Rawn, it isn’t right.”

 

He stood up with her, as intent on his point as she was on hers. “And it's right to deny yourself what you really want? I don't believe life is meant to be lived that way, especially after the way I've lived the last fifteen years. If you have a desire, and fulfilling it will do no harm to others, you owe it to yourself to fulfill it--because the chance may never come again."

 

As decisively as he would strike a telling blow in some battle, Rawn stepped closer to her and closed the distance between them, and before Joanna could utter another word, his massive arms were around her. He brought his face to hers, and in a dizzying instant, their mouths were together. He kissed her as if to breathe fire right into her heart. She felt lifted from the ground as surely as if he was a dragon again and he was taking off with her. His kiss lit her up inside with dragon flames.

 

He held them in the kiss until every muscle in Joanna’s body felt molten, and she feared she could not stand up on her own; she needed him to hold her and stop her either collapsing onto the grass or flying away under her own power. She had never been kissed that way in her life. In spite of herself, she held him and gave herself into the kiss.

 

At the end of that long flight of passion, Rawn pulled back but kept his face close to hers and his warm breath on her. “There, Joanna,” he said, half whispering. “That is something we both wanted. It is the beginning of something we both wanted. There is so much more for us. You need only take it."

 

The woman who had made a career and a life working with words was speechless. She could do nothing but let him kiss her again and scorch her heart with his fire.

 

At the end of this kiss, he voiced the ultimate thought. “Let's go to your quarters,

Joanna. Let's go to your bed. I want to do everything and not stop. Let's go to bed now."

 

That was everything that Joanna should want to hear. That was everything she should want the most heart-stunning, breathtaking man she had ever met in her life to say to her. And she practically wanted to scream YES! She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, let him sweep her up in those incredible arms, and have him carry her off to bed to do everything he wanted and everything she wanted him to do to her.

 

But instead, with every ounce of her will and might, she wrenched herself from his

embrace, shocking him and her alike. To his dumbfounded reaction she breathlessly said, “Rawn…I can’t.”

 

Stricken, he said, “You want to.”

 

Struggling to regain her composure, Joanna told him, "I can't. I'm sorry. We don’t know that we won’t be hurting anyone else. I think it would hurt Evette. I think it would make her feel betrayed, and there’s no reason to expect her not to be public about it. She’s a public person, just like us.

 

And there’s your standing in the Knighthood. What would the Spires do when they found out? There’s so much admiration for you, Rawn; I’d hate to see anything happen to that as much as I’d hate to lose my own standing. Nothing that we want changes anything. I can't just throw away what I'm supposed to be about, and I can’t let this happen to you. I worked too hard for it, and you’ve been through too much. I'm sorry, Rawn."

 

"You would not be sorry if you let me do what we both want me to do. And there's still time. There's still a chance. You know how to reach me. I ask you, Joanna, to reconsider, to take the risk. That is another thing a Knight learns: the importance of risk. This risk is desirable, the most desirable thing there is. And risks have rewards. Think more about this, Joanna. And call on me when you do."

 

And that was it. He had stated his case, and she had made hers, and it had left them both feeling in the middle of nowhere—and both feeling the ache of knowing where they really

wanted to be. Respecting the space, however unwanted, that she had put between them, Rawn stepped back and added to it, making it feel that a chasm was opening up between them; a chasm that he could easily close just by taking flight. And Rawn did will his body back to dragon form, but only to lift his head, open his wings, leap from the ground, and fly away.

 

Joanna was alone now on the grounds of the Spires, alone with her thoughts and her integrity. And the memory of his arms and his lips that would stay with her instead of taking wing. She would carry that kiss with her forever.

 

 

 

 

The kiss stayed with Joanna that evening, which felt as if it must have been the most

difficult evening of her life.

 

She spent the next several hours at the guest house, trying to distract herself from how

distracted she was over her talk with Rawn. It did little good. Coiled all around her like a

dragon’s tail was the temptation of having Epaulette call up everything she had stored about him, in particular, the recordings of him in the restorative tank, naked except for the breathing

apparatus. At the time, she had wondered how it would feel to lie under him and be on the

receiving end of what she saw between his legs.

 

This very day, he had offered her that very experience, the pleasure of that very thing. And what an awesome pleasure it must be. How could she have turned him down? How could she have denied him—and herself? Was she mad?

 

Remembering everything she told him, Joanna thought no, she was not mad. She was principled. Annoyingly, frustratingly, maddeningly principled. In its own way, that was worse than being mad.

 

Joanna’s principles right now were not making her happy. Her principles were standing between her and the rapture of lying down naked for a naked Rawn and having him present to her erect what she had seen flaccid, and having him lay himself down on her and put that

erection inside her and show her how it felt to fly in a different way than he’d flown with her

before.

 

Her principles were the only things stopping her flying with Rawn on a mattress, which would surely be oh, so much sweeter than flying with him through the air. Her principles, her ethics, her commitment to her career—only that was standing in her way, and she found she could not move them. So she sat at her desk in the guest quarters’ living room, and damned her principles.

 

In an only partly successful attempt to take her mind off Rawn, Joanna decided to play back another interview she had done between her encounters with him. She had spoken to Toran, the Mentor Knight who had taken on the job of supervising the disposal of the Scodax wreckage. The interview had been routine.

 

The most interesting part of it, which Joanna also played back, was the holorecording from the camera drone ship that had been sent out with the freighters into which loads of wreckage had been collected. In the playback, Joanna saw the freighters approach the mighty yellow-orange orb of Catalan and come to all-stop at a safe distance.

 

She saw the vessels launch their carrier drones containing the pieces of Scodax craft and

weaponry. A swarm of little ships came shooting out from the larger ones, all headed on a one-way trip into the corona of the star, where they would be safely vaporized. Any further

explosions from the nodes that the debris contained would now happen where they would be like the popping of firecrackers in the outpouring of starlight that engulfed them.

 

Joanna played that part of the recording over and over again. She watched those little ships taking off from the freighters and watched them speed away into the blazing face of the star. And as she did, she remembered the upheavals and the fires and the awful tearing asunder that happened in the spacedock, and how she nearly plunged to her death in the middle of them until he appeared out of nowhere, breathing fire of his own, and snatched her up and bore her away to safety. The cargo of those drones would never be a danger to Joanna or anyone else again. She watched them go like tiny moths into an immense flame and was happy to see it.

 

It was all satisfying enough to watch, except that it inevitably reminded Joanna of the

explosions of a very different sort that a certain Knight could be firing off inside her, and the blasts of ecstasy that he would make her feel.

Her annoyance and frustration returned, as piercing and poignant as ever. Ending the

recordings, she forced herself up from the desk and made for the kitchen to prepare dinner. Perhaps the pleasure of food would be enough to make her forget other pleasures she was missing.

 

She wondered why she even bothered. Sitting in her little dining room, she found dinner was delicious, but spent half the time just picking at it. The roasted Lacertan waterfowl was

succulent and tasted divine, but she could be helping herself to something even more succulent if she had only been a little less solicitous of her professional ethics. Rather than losing her

frustrations, she only lost track of time ruminating over her meal. When she was finally done with dinner, she had another appetite still unquenched.

_______________

 

After leaving Joanna and flying back to his rooms at the Spires, Rawn was more restless than he could ever remember being in his life. He needed to do something to burn off the energy that he could be consuming in bed with her. The gymnasium was still not set up to accommodate him; the Spires technicians would have it ready soon, but had nothing for him yet.

 

He walked the floors of his chambers, deliberately avoiding the bedroom, and inside him burned the dream of his bare skin against Joanna’s, the softness of her breasts, the firmness of her nipples, the slippery wetness of where he most wanted to go on her.

 

If he continued to dwell on it and do nothing about it, he feared he would go spinning into the madness that he had escaped while he was lost so many light years from home. For want of going to bed with Joanna, what else could he do?

 

He thought of all the messages and greetings and well-wishes he had gotten from all over Lacerta and all over Silverwing. This planet, this city, was full of women—and more than a few men who would be more than happy to let Rawn do to them what he offered to do to Joanna. With a few minutes on the Interconnect, he could be in touch with any number of beautiful and very willing partners. Within the hour, or perhaps less, he could be in bed on top of a lovely and admiring female, humping and ejaculating to his heart’s content.

 

The only problem was that none of them would be Joanna Way. Why was it that a

thousand other partners could not take the place of one who had proven unattainable?

 

So what was left for him, then? He could go flying. He stopped his pacing and looked out one of the windows of his suite at the gathering sunset, the hues of pink and violet that it cast in the sky, the way it gilded the buildings of the city. He could morph to dragon, hurl himself into the air, and go chasing the Sun until he found morning again—a morning in which he would have liked to wake naked with Joanna beside him, waiting to be under him again. But he had about as much chance of catching Catalan as he had of slipping himself inside Joanna.

 

“Bane and damn,” he muttered.

 

Beyond the skyline of Silverwing lay the mountains whose dark green rim appeared to be swallowing the orange ball of Catalan. He could fly up into the mountains, perhaps, and spend the last of the waning daylight there. To work off the churning energy of his unspent libido,

perhaps he could find some boulders to use as punching bags, using his strength that exceeded that of human or dragon to pound them into pebbles. Or perhaps, he might find some fallen tree trunks and chop them with his dragon hands into splinters and sawdust. That would certainly burn off a generous amount of energy. It would leave him spent and purged from the exertion.

 

The trouble was that it would not leave Rawn purged in the way he most wanted to be.

 

“Bane and damn!” Rawn muttered more loudly, almost shouting.

 

Grunting and swearing, he tore off his armor skin and flung the metallic cloth garments about the room. This should be a simple thing. Rawn was accustomed to the two most

important things in his life—battle and sex—being simple. Battle was the simplest thing of all: identify the enemy, find the enemy, engage the enemy, and conquer the enemy.

 

Sex for Rawn had been only a little more complicated, but not much, since he joined the Knighthood. He approached a female or she approached him. They spoke, they smiled. They might laugh a bit. They flirted. If she happened to be a weredragon herself, they might take a flight together. But they finally, simply went to bed and enjoyed each other, and that was that. Sex was simple, as it should be.

 

Except that with Joanna Way, for the first time since he donned the colors of a Knight, it was not. How could this human female sit beside him, wanting him as he wanted her, and not go to bed with him? Such a thing was not even a part of Rawn’s world.

 

Standing alone in his suite, naked and erect with no place to put it, Rawn grunted his

displeasure. He should just fly over to that guest house, face Joanna again, and this time…this time…

 

He slumped his shoulders, dejected. This time, “nothing.” There would be no “this time.” To confront her in that way, to demand a place in her bed as if she was obliged to give it to him, would be conduct unbecoming a Knight. First and foremost, he was a Knight of Lacerta. He would not demand from Joanna or any female what she was not prepared to give freely.

 

Given that he had made himself naked, Rawn decided to take himself to the bath for

another soak and then program himself a large, hot meal. Food, he reasoned, would make him sleep. If he must sleep tonight lacking sex with Joanna Way, at least he ought to sleep on a full stomach. His head hung low, his erection half softened, he trudged off to the bath to have done with it all.

 

Night had fallen and the city outside was lit up and looking like gold and diamonds when Rawn, having devoured a large meal of Cygnian steak with all the trimmings, dropped himself naked into bed and shut his eyes. If he could not mount and hump Joanna in reality, perhaps he would go to her, or she would come to him, in his dreams. A dragon could always hope.

 

He drifted into and out of a furtive state of half-slumber, lying on one side and rolling onto the other and shifting onto his back, his not-quite-sleeping mind filled with Joanna and a thousand other things, memories of his life alone in space and his exploits as a Knight.

Eventually, his half-conscious mind thought, sleep would claim him completely and give him a respite from unfulfilled desires.

 

That was when he heard the trilling of his Interconnect.

 

He thought, at first, it was part of some dream on the edge between waking and sleep. Then, he heard it again. His eyes snapped open and he sat up on the bed. In the air, the

identification system in the suite’s computer cast words in light into the dimness of his bedroom:

 

INBOUND CALL FROM JOANNA WAY. ACCEPT OR DISMISS?

 

His eyes widened. He spoke her name aloud: “Joanna?” His heartbeat spiking, he said to the suite’s computer, “Accept!”

 

The hologram of Joanna blossomed like a flower of light before him. Rawn quickly

added, “Scan face only!” For some reason he could not name, he did not want Joanna to see a full scan of him naked on the bed, nor did he want to do anything so prudish as to pull a pillow over his crotch. Just showing her his face would be enough.

 

Her own face resolved before him, and he wondered whether she was as naked in bed as he was. He chased the thought away, suspecting he would need his wits about him in the next few minutes. Joanna’s voice came through the transmission: “Rawn?”

 

“Yes, Joanna?” Rawn answered. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Everything’s fine—sort of,” she said.

 

“‘Sort of?’” This response made him curious.

 

“I was trying to sleep,” she said. “I…couldn’t. I’m a little…distracted, I guess.”

 

This made him more curious yet. What was she saying? Was she as “distracted” as he? Was she distracted for the same reason?

 

“Did I wake you?” Joanna asked.

 

“No,” said Rawn, only half-truthfully. “Not…exactly.”

 

“Oh,” she simply replied.

 

He ventured the question, “Did you call only because you wanted to talk more?”

 

“I did want to talk, yes. But…not over the ‘connect. I wanted to ask if you wanted to…. That is, maybe you might like to…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you maybe want to…come over?”

 

Rawn stared at her, weighing the question and its possible meanings. The words hung in the air like the hologram itself. Somehow, he was not able to answer.

 

“Oh,” she said again. “Well…maybe not. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

 

Now, he found his voice again: “You’re no bother, Joanna.” His hesitation was gone now. “Yes. Yes, I would like to…come over. I’ll be right there.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be here.”

 

She broke the connection, and the hologram disappeared into pixels, leaving Rawn alone on the bed, but only for a second. With a new energy, he bounded up and went in search of the armor skin pieces he had flung off. He donned everything but his gauntlets and armbands and was out the door faster than the thrash of a dragon’s tail.

_______________

 

When he rang the chime and the guest house door slid open, Rawn found Joanna standing in the doorway clad in nothing but a thin, flowing robe that he dared to hope had nothing

underneath it. That would save time for what he hoped was soon about to happen.

 

Joanne let him into the living room and let the door slide shut behind him. They faced each other, a bit awkwardly. “Rawn,” she said.

 

“Joanna,” he said back.

 

“I’m glad you came over,” she said.

 

“I’m glad you asked me,” he replied.

 

They were still awkward, but now awkward and silent. Rawn broke the silence with, “Why did you ask me?”

 

“Because…,” she began, then shut down and stopped.

 

“Because…?” he answered, trying to get to what was on her mind. Or what he hoped was on her mind.

 

“Because I kept thinking about what we talked about today.”

 

“Were you thinking of what I asked you, what I told you that I wanted? Or were you thinking of your reasons for not letting it be?”

 

Sighing, rolling her eyes up as if to ask for guidance from on high, she said helplessly, “I don’t know. Both, maybe.”

 

“Joanna,” he said, “you asked me here at this hour. There must be a reason. Either you have more to say, or…” He left it at that, to give her an opening.

 

“Or…,” she began, not knowing where to go next. Or knowing where to go next and still hesitating.

 

Rawn frowned, his nostrils flaring. This impasse would go on forever, he feared, until one of them broke it. “Joanna, I offered you something today. And I asked you for something. And you said no. Then you asked me here. Did you ask me here because your answer has changed? If you did not, then why are we standing here now?”

 

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she answered weakly.

 

“Don’t think any more,” Rawn insisted. “It’s all thinking that’s brought us here now, standing here as if neither of us knows what we want, when we do. Joanna, I ask you simply: Do you want me?”

 

At this question, this pointed, simple question, something broke inside Joanna. That was the way it felt, like something inside her snapping off, coming loose, falling away. In a voice that was almost a sob, she said, “Yes. Yes.”

 

Words turned at once to action. Saying nothing more, they moved. They ran to each

other and crashed together like ancient, giant rocks in a mythical ocean. Joanna threw her body into Rawn, and he threw his into hers, and his arms around her locked them together. They fused themselves into a kiss as if the press and slide of their lips would make them a single being.

 

Rawn kissed her again and again, embracing her mouth with his, slipping his tongue against hers. Every new kiss seemed a little longer, felt a little more urgent. And the kisses gave way to something more. He parted kiss and embrace, and quickly undid the top of his armor skin, letting it tumble to the floor at their feet, exposing his incredible expanse of hairy pecs and grid of abdominals. He was half-naked now and reminded her of the day she saw him come out of the restorative tank, and Joanna knew there was something even more glorious yet to come. As if sensing the thought, Rawn reached out and took her in his arms again, crushing her against that magnificently hard, sculpted and haired chest.

 

He put his lips to hers and, once again, made a dragon’s fire rise inside her with his kiss. But this time, he did still more. Uninhibited, filled with need, he put his hands to her bottom, covered as it was in the thin, silky-satiny robe, and with each of his big hands, he cupped and squeezed one of her cheeks. Joanna moaned into his kiss, feeling herself begin to be claimed by the conquering warrior. 

 

She felt it all the more, and moisture began to pool in her most sensitive place, at what he did next. He started to bunch and slide the fabric of the robe up her legs,

 rendering them bare—and putting her buttocks in full view. As he had hoped, she was wearing nothing under the robe, at least not below the waist, and he parted their kiss long enough to whisper roughly, “Yes…”

 

“Yes…,” Joanna whispered back and gave herself into another kiss, encouraging Rawn to do whatever he liked with her. And he did. Holding the hem of her robe up to the small of her back with one hand, he grasped her bottom with the other and squeezed the soft roundness of it, making her feel as if she would turn to warm, soft putty in his arms. He let one kiss melt into another, and in the next moment, he did something even more wonderful.

 

Now using the hand that had grasped her bottom to hold up the hem of her robe, he let the other hand slip under the robe to find the place where he most wanted to go. Joanna moaned into his kiss yet again, feeling his fingers brush and sift the dark bush at the junction of her legs, then slip under them to tease and test the buttery-soft, slick folds that were the entrance to his promised land.

 

He felt how wet Joanna was, and how ready for him, with his fingers probing where he most desired to put another part of him. He parted their kiss again and, with another rough whisper, told her lustily, “I must have you now.”

 

Rawn withdrew his hand from Joanna’s sex and made her almost gasp by sweeping her from the floor and into his arms. She raised a hand to his pecs and clutched and groped at them, pouring out her desire through the fingers that moved through the hair and over the thick, hard muscles of his godlike chest. She was a woman who had made her living with words, yet she found Rawn’s body too good for words. No language she knew could do justice to the male flesh that she was now touching.

 

“The bedroom…where?” he half-asked, half-demanded.

 

Joanna tilted her head, nodding behind him to a short hallway at the end of which a warm light glowed. He carried her there swiftly, and there he found the bed in which she had been

lying sleeplessly, the sheets turned down and slightly rustled—not nearly so much as they soon would be, Rawn thought. He put Joanna down on the foot of the bed and, at once, went to work on the bottom of his armor skin and his boots, stripping off the boots and peeling down the

leggings, showing her that he, like her, was wearing nothing underneath his garments. Showing her the full, manly splendor of his nakedness.

 

She looked him up and down, feasted her eyes on the tall, dark tower of muscle that was Sir Rawn Ullery, the heroic and superbly muscled beauty of the proudest of the order of Knights of Lacerta. He belonged to a Knighthood but could well have been part of a godhood. And her eyes settled on what loomed toward her from under the wreath of hair between his legs.

 

It was a huge and mighty weapon, not of battle but of passion: longer and thicker than any staff of manhood that she had ever seen, its blunt head peering with its one flaring eye from his

foreskin and shedding a large dollop of man-sap like the trunk of a tree of veiny flesh. Joanna was ready to fall back on the bed and submit to what he wanted to do with that large and looming limb of his manhood…

 

…but it was his arms that reached for her first, pulling the robe from her shoulders and down her body, whipping it from her and tossing it to one side on the floor, exposing her own nakedness. As decisively as he might move in some battle, Rawn then dropped to his knees

before her and spread her legs apart.

 

He slipped his fingers up between her thighs and into her most womanly place, and again began to feel at its slick and supple wetness. At the same time, he lowered his knightly-handsome face to her bosom and drew one of her hardened nipples into his mouth. Joanna exulted with a whine of pleasure at the feeling of him sucking wetly at her nipple, then at her other nipple, while he played with her sex.

 

With every suck of his lips, lap of his tongue, and flick of his fingers, she felt her objections to him become all the more feeble. They no longer mattered. All that mattered was the way Rawn now made her feel.

 

As quickly and suddenly as he had picked her up to carry her to the bedroom, Rawn took his fingers and mouth from Joanna and stood up before her again. Now, he took the steely hard trunk of his manhood in one hand and lifted her chin up to him with the other. He moved his massive and pulsing root to her lips and smeared his nectar onto them, and put his maleness in Joanna’s mouth.

 

Now, her entire world became the feeling of his length and thickness and hardness filling her mouth, and the saltiness of his man-nectar on her tongue. There was so much of him! Would he choke her, gag her, hurt her? Rawn seemed to sense what was going through her mind as he put himself in her mouth.

Through much experience with many partners, he had learned how carefully to feed his meat to her and how much a woman could be expected to take. Gently but steadily, he slipped two-thirds of his rod between her lips and over her tongue, and stopped and held it there.

 

He was so delicious and stretched her jaws so much, Joanna could do nothing but utter a sound of “Mmm…” while swallowing him, sending a sensuous vibration up through the shaft and into Rawn’s body.

 

The needing, desiring Knight tossed back his head and let out a sound that Joanna had never heard come from a man until now, a sound of years of unspent passion released into one stroke over her tongue. She realized again how long he had gone without doing this to a woman of any world that he knew, and how much he missed sex with a woman of his own kind or with a human.

 

She wanted to make it the wonderful completion of his homecoming—emphasis on the

“coming.” Without him asking her, Joanna reached up and around him and took his large, hard, firm buttocks in her hands and began to squeeze at them. Rawn, in response, started to pump his rod slowly in and out of her mouth, orally sexing her as no other man had ever done.

 

Rawn pumped her mouth as if to let Joanna feast on him forever. She clutched his

buttocks as a hungry woman sinks her fingers into a loaf of warm bread to tear it in two. He let his root slip from her mouth and urgently called to her, “My balls! Get my balls…!”

 

He spread his legs farther apart, and she leaned her face more deeply into him, taking in his musky scent even as her tongue found the warm and fleshy roundness of the tender sac at the base of his root. She slathered her tongue all over his delicate pouch, then took his man-berries into her mouth, first one and then the other.

 

“Ah, yes…YES!” he cried, feeling himself become a meal of manliness for her. The powerful muscles tightened and trembled with pleasure up and down his body. Joanna felt him react and sucked him harder, wondering how much he could take. She realized that his enhanced strength had rendered him at least partly invulnerable.

 

Was he as invulnerable down here as the rest of his body? How much could he take? She

devoured him with relish and care at once, letting his response tell her how hard to suck. The tremors in his muscles and the ecstatic rumbling of his voice told her she was doing it just right. Her own senses told her that he was delicious.

 

Stroking her hair, Rawn leaned his head down again and asked, “Put my piece in your mouth again.” She did, gorging herself once more on his length and hardness. This time, he let her control the motion, sliding her mouth up and down his shaft and listening to the grunts and moans of his delight. He was so hard and tasted so good! How much better would he be when he finally mounted her?

 

As if he sensed the question, Rawn pulled himself back and out of her mouth, and his tool bounced up and down teasingly in Joanna’s face. He lifted her face up to look again into his eyes, and she saw that the moment was at hand. “Get up on the bed,” he said. “I want to be in you down there.” He pointed to her sex. “Let me screw you now.”

 

She did not hesitate. Eagerly, she bounded back and crawled on her bottom up the bed until she could lean her head back on the pillows. Lying down, she opened her legs for him and showed Rawn what he wanted more than anything else at this moment. It was pink and wet and delicate and ready. Like a hungry, predatory beast, he climbed up the bed after her and put himself between her open thighs. He lowered himself onto her, nestling his loins together with hers—and with a decisive, plundering stroke, he slid his moistened, steely, throbbing length through her folds and all the way into her.

 

Rawn hurled back his head and shouted as if already in the throes of an all-consuming orgasm, and Joanna knew that it was not a too-early climax that now claimed him, but rather the fulfillment of a desire too long denied. Her body was now becoming the conduit of something he had missed for too many years, and was the recipient of the press of flesh and muscles on top of her that had gone too long without the union he was now feeling.

 

The pleasure of his long, massive phallus reaching to her womb, his muscles and weight crushing her into the mattress, his chest hair rustling against her soft breasts and hard nipples, was

absolutely uncanny. She tightened herself around him like a vise, feeling filled with all the

manly sex in the galaxy. At the top of his lungs, Rawn bellowed out the word that began with “F” that Knights of Lacerta did better than anyone else on a thousand planets. And once he shouted it, he began to do it.

 

Joanna shuddered under him, shuddered at the way he filled her up and pressed her down, and sensed that he wanted to do it hard, very hard, with all his formidable might. But he did not. Rawn was wary of his strength and knew that, for all the lust he could bring to bed, he dared not do it to a woman as hard as he was capable.

 

If he brought all of his strength to bear when screwing, he could shatter a woman’s pelvis or even kill her. He had learned to hump a woman slowly, carefully, deliberately—which made the experience all the more intense for both of them. With a steady and measured beat, he began to take her, thrusting inside her wet and quivering passage with exactly the right amount of force to keep their all-consuming pleasure at its height without injuring Joanna.

 

She slipped into what she could perceive only as a zone of cosmic bliss at the urgent, constant, but precise strokes of his pulsating pole inside her tightening wetness. To her, she was being banged with the discipline and skill of the ultimate warrior, someone who took no prisoners in battle and accepted nothing less than total surrender in bed.

 

And surrender she did, giving herself in to every perfect, demanding stroke, yielding herself up to every deep and delicious penetration. It was a sex beyond any and all other sex she had ever experienced. If she never had a man inside her again, she could live forever on the feeling of being supremely screwed by Sir Rawn Ullery.

 

He lay himself down fully on top of her and continued drilling his hardness steadily into her wetness, feeling her thighs hold him tightly while he took full command of her womanhood. He lowered his face into the base of her neck and kissed and gave love bites to her neck and shoulder, making Joanna squirm while in a state of complete submission to the pumping of his piston in her warm and turgid sheath.

 

As he drilled deeply into her, Joanna floated deeper into the zone of bliss to which he had taken her. In screwing her, Rawn was truly possessing her, and with every stroke of his colossal tool, she welcomed the possession. After a seemingly endless euphoria of humping and stroking, Rawn lifted his head again and kissed her, wetly, hungrily. Keeping their faces together, he breathed out in a voice tortured by ecstasy, “I’m getting close… I’m going to come, Joanna… I’m going to shoot into you…” His voice dissolved into sex-drunk moans, and he pumped on and on, the pleasure of his stroking meat consuming them both.

 

Joanna held him and let him go on, sensing what was rising and building in him,

preparing herself for when the moment hit. When it did, she felt it. She felt something like a long peal of thunder up and down his body as he held himself all the way in her. She kept her arms and legs as tight around him as she could, and he bought his mouth down onto hers again, seizing her with the suppleness of his lips and the wetness of his tongue.

 

And the thunder in his body went on, and he grunted loudly into the kiss, and from deep inside him to deep inside her, there was a mighty deluge of thick, slippery wetness, a dam burst of white seed that poured freely and copiously, filling her up. Rawn locked their bodies together that way for a long time, pouring out his man-milk into her receiving depths.

 

He released her from his kiss, but not from his humping. Even after all that, he was still as hard as ever, something else that, in the back of her mind, Joanna knew was the result of his enhancements. Much as Lacerta Knights were known to have the greatest sexual stamina of all living men, Rawn had a sexual stamina and endurance greater than any of his peers.

 

She was being taken by the ultimate partner, the ultimate stud. She had been a fool ever to refuse his body and his phallus. After his orgasm, Rawn resumed pumping, returning to his steady and mind-boggling beats. Joanna relaxed under him only slightly, still holding him while he stroked in and out of her, but just letting herself go now.

 

He could easily go on this way for hours, she knew, and she would be only too happy to lie under him and let him. The feeling of his sex slowly began to change, and she suddenly knew that he had found that one sweet spot inside her and was directing his thrusts at it. Her eyes

widened and her breath quickened. Groping his awesome, magnificent body up and down, Joanna knew what Rawn was doing. He was going to screw her into an orgasm of her own. He beat on and on inside her, and her anticipation rose ever higher, until the feelings he was giving her with that incredibly long, thick tool built up to an explosion of pleasure that made her cry out and bounce her voice off the ceiling while her back arched beneath him. 

He continued to hammer away at that spot, stroking the orgasm out of her. It was almost as if her flesh turned molten beneath him, and he smiled a wicked and un-Knightly smile at the knowledge of what he had done to her. Joanna finally went limp beneath him, all the tension drained from her limbs, and drew in deep breaths of air filled with his heat and perspiration.

 

In the end, they lay still, Rawn on top of her and still sheathed in her female inner tube, Joanna lying almost still under him. Her only motion was the drifting of her hands up and down his back and over his buttocks. He had given her the sex to end all sex—except she knew that it was not about to end. This sex with Rawn, Joanna was sure, had only barely begun. And Rawn groggily lifted his face back to hers for another molten kiss, telling her how right she was.

 

At some point in the night, Joanna, lying under Rawn with eyes closed, having been sexed almost into a dream state, felt the poignant pang of his pulling out of her and rolling to one side of the bed. They lay next to each other, buzzing in every cell of their bodies, on sheets warmed and scented with everything that Rawn had done on top of her, and a silence fell over the room until Rawn looked over to find her lying there, staring up at the ceiling with a look that suggested she was gazing through it and out to the stars.

 

“Joanna?” Reaching over to take her by the hand, he softly called her name. “Joanna? How do you feel?”

 

With a little sigh, “I’m thinking more about how you feel. Incredible. Wonderful.

 Fantastic. That was just so…” Words failing her seemed to have become a recurring problem. “Oh, Rawn, I can’t even believe how good that was.”

 

He rolled to her, leaned his torso over her, and enwrapped her lips in his kiss once again. She found his kiss as rapturous as the main thing he’d done to her that night.

 

He kept himself half on top of her, enclosed by his enormous arms. “Yes, that was good. That was perfect. I needed to be laid this way so very much. I’m very happy, Joanna. I’m

happy that you let me.” He paused long enough to kiss her again, and she fondled the massive muscles of his arms. Slipping from the kiss, he said, “And Joanna…I’m glad that you’re happy. I’m very glad that you didn’t let this get away from us.

 

I want you to know that I understand the way you felt. I understand your worries about your ethics and your integrity. Those are not just words to me. I know what they mean. I know what it means to you. I’m grateful that you’re not sorry that you let this be.”

 

“No, Rawn,” said Joanna, “I’m not. There’s a saying that goes back to Earth, hundreds of years ago. The things we regret most in life are the things we don’t do. I think, deep down, I

always knew that if I left Lacerta without letting this happen, I would have regretted it. And wherever I went and whatever I did, I would have wondered where you were, what you were

doing—who you were doing it to. And I would have wondered if I’d ever see you again and we’d have another chance.”

 

“We would have had another chance, I know. Sometime, somehow, I would have gotten the two of us into bed and had your sex the way I have tonight. But I’m glad it was now, Joanna. I’m very happy.”

 

And he leaned down and kissed her again. Joanna felt as if she could lose herself in his kiss as easily as his penetration. She would have welcomed losing herself in all of him.

 

When they broke again, she licked his lips and said, “Rawn…?”

 

“Yes, Joanna?”

 

“Do it again. Please.”

 

He smiled, a smile of arousal burning in dragon flame. “You know that I will. Neither of us is leaving this bed. I’ll stay the night. I want to be nowhere but inside you.” He took her hand from one of his arms and guided it down between his legs, letting it close on the dragon’s hardened dragon. “I want to put this in you and never take it out.”

 

Plundering Joanna’s mouth with the most all-consuming kiss yet, Rawn climbed onto her again and she guided the dragon back into her wet, soft cave. What followed was an inferno of their bodies commingling. Rawn gave her another drilling that made her feel as if her bones were filled with hot coal. He poured more waves of hot seed deep into her, and found again the spot inside her that sent her into surpassing ecstasy.

 

They curled together into a “69” and Rawn licked her folds and mound and rolled his tongue over her love nub, while Joanna buried her head at the junction of his thighs and once again feasted on his male meat and dumplings. He licked her to another climax, which sent sparks through her body and up into her brain to turn her entire consciousness into a bright and flashing tingle.

 

She pulled at his pulsing tool with her mouth and made him tear his own mouth from her sex and cry out with another climax of his own, and this time, he sent his thick, creamy outpouring onto her tongue. She held his fountain in her mouth and swallowed down the gobs of seed that he squirted into her mouth, and they felt joined together more than ever.

 

They climbed under the covers together, not to sleep but to be ever more intimate

between the sheets. Rawn mounted her and entered her time and time again, turning her night into a journey of thrusting and pulsating joy. He was tireless, relentless, taking long times of stroking in and out to reach every new climax and take her to peaks of her own joy. Joanna could not believe it was possible for a man to do it that much, until she remembered who it was on top of her and gave in to the feelings with which his thrusting hardness filled her. She was the prisoner of the dragon’s fiery desire and would not have it any other way.

_______________

 

As morning came near, Joanna was blissed out under him yet again and had lost count of the number of times Rawn had pumped her beyond the bounds of ecstasy. With a final thrust all the way into her, he released himself again and flooded the depths of her womanhood with his manly stream. She felt his muscles shudder mightily with orgasm yet again, and he settled down upon her, still nestled between her parted thighs and sheathed inside her.

 

More contented than she ever thought it possible for her to be, she let Rawn lie on her with his head on her shoulder. She caressed his back and his buttocks and drank in the pure deliciousness of his body. For a while, she thought he would go to sleep on top of her, but at last, he said in a drowsy voice, “You feel so good. So good…”

 

Joanna smiled, letting Rawn roll away and lie down beside her, finally sinking into sleep. Slick and sticky between her legs and all the way down her inner thighs from hours of his sex, resting on sheets wet with his ejaculate, she cuddled up with him and rested her head on the fleshy, hairy plateau of his chest. In the first light of morning, she gazed down the awe-inspiring body that had so wonderfully dominated her all night and found the root of the greatest joy she had ever known resting against his leg, still thick and tempting, dribbling seed onto his thigh. And she imagined how it must be inside her now, where she was filled with so much of what was now seeping onto his thigh.

 

With a final post-coital tingle, Joanna kissed Rawn’s nipple and followed him into sleep.

 

To her toe-curling delight, Rawn was the first thing she saw when she awoke in full daylight. He lay there beside her, his mesmerizingly handsome face shadowed with morning stubble. The air and the sheets smelled of what he’d done to her for so many hours, and her nipples hardened at the sight of him and the scent of his sex.

 

As if he sensed she was watching him, his eyes fluttered open and focused on her. A smile stretched across his face. “Good morning, Joanna,” he said in a sexy, rumbly voice. “Come over here.”

 

She slid across the bed to him and, at once, was in his arms with his mouth on hers. The kiss lingered, and he lifted one leg over her thigh. As he did, she felt something down there that was not his leg that made her grow wet with the memory of how she’d spent the night.

 

Sucking at her lips, Rawn said, “Perhaps you’d like to go down there and give me a proper wake-up.”

 

“I’d say you’re already awake down there,” she chuckled at him. And after another peck on his lips, she kissed her way down the sculpted muscles of his body, staying at his chest long enough to nuzzle its expanse of hair, and rustling the sheets away. At her destination, below the perfectly cut path of his abs, lay the musky forest of his pubic hair and the colossal pillar of his morning wood.

 

He made rumbly noises of growing pleasure as she took his length into her mouth once more. She gave him a long, slow, deep sucking that made his muscles flex and release in appreciation, and paid careful attention to the soft and bulbous treasure below his root.

 

At length, he stroked her hair and said, “Allow me to return the favor.” Almost not wanting to let his pole slip from her mouth, Joanna climbed back up beside him and let him kiss and lick his way down her own body, making her tremble at the touch of his lips and tongue on her skin, until he found the thicket of hair between her legs and rustled through it with his nose.

 

Then, he took his mouth below her pubes and sucked at her dewy petals, and slipped his tongue between them and into her, giving her the most intimate kind of kiss that a woman could receive. She bent her knees and pushed her sex up into his face, feeding herself to him, and he partook fully of her, finally bringing his tongue to the place where it would give the greatest pleasure.

 

He licked and strummed at it with his tongue until he brought forth the desired response. Her body rocked as if it had changed physically into a wave of euphoria. She called out his name ecstatically: “Rawn…oh Rawn, yes! Yes!” Her breathless calling of his name and the undulation of her body let him know his work was done, and there was one thing more to do. He

eagerly did it.

 

Feeling as if her every cell were vibrating from the climax of his oral sexing, Joanna took Rawn on top of her and inside her again. He took her with the same endless and deep stroking that he had given her all last night, and she reveled and gloried in the feeling of his body and the thrusting of his huge tool.

 

As she had called out his name, now he called out hers in a drunken-sounding expression of his masculine need: “Joanna…Joanna…oh, you’re so wet…you’re so good…I love being in you so much…” She whimpered under him, receiving the strokes of his massive and incredibly long piston in and out of her, soaking up the sensations of his screwing and wishing he could never stop.

 

She wanted his body to belong to her, and the way he pumped himself inside her, she felt as if it truly did. She grabbed his buttocks and dug her fingers into their flesh, making him roar the “F” word again and making him wish he could do it to her as hard as he could without hurting her.

 

With all his disciplined passion, Rawn pumped Joanna to his climax and let his white male syrup flow freely into her again. He kept their bodies locked together and his pole deep inside her for long, dizzyingly sensuous moments before pulling out and rolling them into a post-coital

embrace. Holding her close, he muttered the “F” word over and over again, turning it to an echo of what he’d done to her once more.

 

They settled into another afterglow, and Rawn, holding her against his chest and stroking her hair, said, “Joanna, there is something I must tell you.”

 

She lifted her face from his chest to look at him. “What?”

 

“Since my return home, there has been so much excitement and celebration about me. And I understand that. I accept that. I’m grateful that people are so happy that I’m home and have welcomed me the way they have. I know what I represent to people, and I’m so very touched by the love that people have shown for me. But Joanna…being this ‘hero’ that people see when they look at me is only part of who I am.

 

And I love it that I can protect people and protect my world and the Commonwealth and do things that matter. I’m grateful for this to the bottom of my heat. But there is only one thing that matters more to me, only one thing that I want more than that. What I want most of all is what I did in this bed all last night: sex. Deep, beautiful sex with a woman I find most beautiful. There is nothing more wonderful to me than the way I felt being inside you all last night. The sex I have with you is everything I needed most. You know this, don’t you?”

 

There was no doubt in Joanna’s mind at all. “I know, Rawn. This is the most beautiful time I’ve ever had too.”

 

He kissed her, a long, deep kiss, pouring into it all the feelings he had just expressed.

 

Rawn continued, “Then you know, Joanna, that it’s not only just the sex itself, not only just the humping and the screwing and the coming all night long, and now this morning. I’ve had such a homecoming since that day I arrived at the spacedock.

 

But when I first moved inside you, and came in you, and made you come, that was when I truly came home. That was why I needed so much to be in bed with you and be inside you. Because the first person that I saw when I returned was you. My real homecoming, Joanna, is you.”

 

More moved than she had ever felt at any other moment in her life, more deeply touched than she had ever been by the words of any other person she had ever known, Joanna flung herself into Rawn’s kiss. Arms and legs entwined, hands grasping at each other’s body all over, they rolled back and forth on the bed, drinking deeply of the pleasure of their kiss, until Rawn rolled her onto her back and slipped his renewed erection back through her folds and into her wet passage. He humped Joanna and drove his full, pulsing length into her with all the ardor that he had shown since last night, and turned their morning into an encore of everything they’d felt since they first went to bed.

 

On the window ledge overlooking the bed, a little green grass dragon sat in the morning sunlight, unnoticed by either Rawn or Joanna, engrossed as they were in Rawn’s impassioned screwing. The little reptile watched Rawn hump the human female, oblivious to anything else in the universe, for several prolonged moments, seeming more interested in humanoid copulating than such a creature ought to be. Then, he picked himself up and climbed away down the wall of the guest house, swishing his tail behind him.

 

Grass dragons were ubiquitous residents of the planet Lacerta. They were as common in the cities as squirrels and pigeons were in the cities of Earth. Like those other urban animals, grass dragons congregated in the parks where people fed them. People hardly ever gave them a second thought. They were everywhere at the Spires, and the Knights and Corps considered them practically mascots. The little animal skittered down the outer wall and leaped onto the grass of the guest house lawn. He bounded across the grass, jumped into the air, and took flight with his wings, disappearing over the treetops in the direction of the Spires.

 

He flew a short distance to the place in the courtyard where Rawn’s memorial statue stood in the courtyard. A broodingly handsome young apprentice Knight in silver armor leaned calmly and quietly against the pedestal of Rawn’s statue. The Knight looked up and saw the small reptile descending overhead. He held up his hand and the dragon flew down onto it. The Knight smiled.

 

Gazing at the scaly animal that had just perched on his hand, the smiling Knight lifted the dragon to his face and looked into the dragon’s eyes. The animal perched peacefully as if it were the most natural thing in the world to perch on a humanoid, and looked back at the young man. They stayed that way for a long moment, dragon man and little dragon, and something unheard passed between them.

 

The Knight lowered his hand a bit, taking his eyes from those of the dragon, and looked up into the sky, either at nothing or perhaps at something that only he could see or know. And he smiled again.

 

“Sabian will be pleased,” he said.

 

 

With the day of the ball to welcome Rawn home drawing nearer, Rawn and Joanna spent every night together and stole every other opportunity they could to slip into her bed or his for joyous and impassioned sex. Each time Rawn entered her, they felt fused together in flesh and mind and heart and knew they would never have enough of each other’s body.

 

Which made it all the more poignant to know that their time would soon be over.

 

Joanna did her best not to think about it for the time being. The night after their first night, she appeared at his suite in the Spires. When the door slid open for her, she found him

already naked and ready for her below the waist. She smiled with pure delight, and he pulled her through the threshold.

 

What immediately followed in Rawn’s bed was epic. He carried her to bed and kissed her

ferociously along the way; he stripped her, spread her out on the bedspread, lowered himself onto her, and went right to work. A half hour later, after thunderous and wet climaxes, they propped themselves up on pillows against the headboard and rested up for the inevitable next coupling. Joanna took in the sensations of his chest and arms and legs and petted the thick and moistened length of his maleness, and sighed deeply. “Oh, Rawn, what are we going to do?”

 

“If you continue doing that,” he said, “as I know you will, you’re going to lie back down, and I’m going to climb onto you and screw you senseless.”

 

“No, not that,” she replied. “I know that. I mean…what are we going to do after the ball? How are we going to make this work?”

 

“We’ll do whatever we must,” Rawn replied, feeling himself start to grow hard down there once again. She really knew how to handle him, and he loved it. “We will still be together as much as we can, no matter where your Bureau sends you, no matter where the Knighthood sends me when I return to full duty. We may be apart, Joanna, but we will never be parted.

 

To be in bed with you and do the things we do to each other is the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.” He lifted her head from his chest and gazed soulfully into her eyes. “You truly are my homecoming. You’ve brought me back, not just to my home, but to myself. I was in pieces, and you made me whole again, dragon and man. That’s what our being in bed has done for me.”

 

Joanna’s heart melted, and she grew very wet someplace else. As he’d said a minute ago, she lay back down and reached out to him, inviting him onto her and into her. Rawn did not

hesitate. Another long, humping ride of ecstasy followed.

_______________

 

The night of the ball welcoming Rawn home arrived, and it was everything that Joanna expected it to be: every bit as glittering and glamourous, and every bit a reminder that in

obeying her heart and surrendering to her desire for Rawn’s body, she had surrendered other things as well.

 

The chosen setting for the gala was the Colonial Arboretum at the Ruling Aerie from which the planet was governed. It was a space covered with a transparent dome and filled with the rarest and most beautiful trees, shrubs and flowers, not only from Lacerta but elsewhere in the quadrant. For the occasion, some of the flora were cleared out to create a dance floor and buffet and table space, and light drones were floated in to create the appearance that the air was filled with gold, white, blue, and red stars. Everyone was dressed formally and elegantly. This included the Knights and Mentors, who all donned dress uniforms of basic, shiny black with bands and stripes of the colors of their respective ranks.

 

As a member of the press, Joanna arrived early to cover the arrivals of all the prominent guests and dignitaries, including the Alpha Family and the guest of honor. When their levitating chariot pulled up before the Arboretum, Epaulette, over Joanna’s shoulder, captured the moment when the Alphas stepped out of the floating vehicle and onto the red carpet leading into the gala.

 

The Alpha Dragon and his wife emerged first, smiling and waving to the press and the crowd of onlookers, and started down the carpet—and behind them, the dress-uniformed figure of Rawn Ullery, looking positively regal, stepped into view, holding out his hand to the lady he was

escorting. The long legs of Evette Veles unfolded from the craft, followed by the rest of her in a gown of jet black adorned with ruby red filigrees from shoulders to hem. Rawn gallantly took her by the hand and helped her up, and they walked arm in arm down the carpet behind Evette’s parents.

 

At the end of the carpet stood Joanna, feeling as if her stomach were filled with fluttering baby dragons and fearing that this was only the first of many moments during this evening that she would absolutely dread. She had no worries about speaking to the Alpha Couple, but when Rawn and Evette reached her and Joanna had to talk to them, she would have to meet their eyes.

 

Would Rawn’s eyes show to Epaulette—and thereby to the entire quadrant—that Rawn had a much more intimate relationship with the woman at the end of the carpet than the woman on his arm? And would Joanna’s expression when she looked at Rawn betray to Evette the same thing? Joanna called upon all her memories of her theatrical training from before she decided to become a mediate. She would have to act as if she was not sleeping with the guest of honor and play the part convincingly.

 

After Joanna recorded the requisite niceties with the Alpha Couple and they went inside the Arboretum, Rawn and Evette came up to her, and she greeted them. “Ms. Veles, that is an absolutely lovely gown,” Joanna said—anything to deflect her own feelings about who was

escorting the planet’s First Daughter. “It’s perfect for the evening—and for your escort.”

 

“Of course,” said Evette, flashing a stellar smile. “I chose it very deliberately. I knew, after all, I was going to be on the arm of a Knight in formal armor skin.”

 

Yes, didn’t you just? thought Joanna, turning her attention directly to Rawn. “Sir Rawn,” she said, “the whole Commonwealth is celebrating in spirit with you tonight. I know how good that must make you feel.”

 

Rawn fixed his gaze on Joanna in a way that made her feel pinned in place and replied, “It has been a very happy homecoming for me, Joanna, and tonight is the height of it.” He said the word height in a way that seemed to suggest climax, which put a shiver down Joanna’s spine. “The affection that has been shown to me has made me very happy, and I look forward to

moving on to other duties when the celebration is done.”

 

He had not said it in a way to make it obvious, but the layers of meaning in his words were all there for Joanna. He had told the quadrant one thing and told Joanna quite another, and she smiled softly in understanding, cautious not to let on anything to the young woman in black and red on Rawn’s arm.

 

“Enjoy your evening, Sir Rawn and Ms. Veles,” said Joanna, “and I’ll look forward to recording you on the dance floor.” And the guest of honor and his date smiled and nodded, and stepped past her and into the Arboretum.

 

Joanna turned and watched them go in, and maintained her own smile. But she could not dismiss the thought, That’s right, enjoy your evening, Evette. But I’m his homecoming, not this fancy dress ball and not you. When the party’s over, he’s spending his after-party with me. As the thought and the feelings passed through her mind, a pang of guilt came with them.

 

Though she had successfully put on her little performance as just a mediate and not the woman who had been enjoying Rawn’s body for the past several nights and not a few stolen hours during the past several days, the fact remained that in lying with Rawn she had done exactly what she’d resolved not to do.

 

She had told Rawn that she did not regret it, but at the time, she had been speaking as a woman, not as a member of the press. As a member of the press, she still had trouble reconciling the breach of her ethics. And the fact that Rawn would never breathe a word of it only compounded the

feeling. Not only had she let her subject have relentless sex with her, but the two of them were covering it up. It was not conduct becoming of a trusted journalist. While she was in bed with Rawn, she could live with it far more easily than she was living with it now.

 

The night and the ball got under way. Joanna distracted herself as best she could from Rawn and Evette—and from her conflict over what she had let him do and was still looking

forward to letting him do again tonight—by interviewing other guests at the gala. But every time she looked at Rawn and Evette and caught them on camera, the pang of guilt returned, and with it, the pang of something else: the dread of how she would feel tomorrow, when she had to force herself to leave their bed and his arms and board another space liner back to Earth.

 

The pain of having to leave Rawn, even temporarily, would be equal to the pleasure of lying

under him tonight and tomorrow morning. These would be the last times he would kiss her, the last times he would hold her and be inside her, for how long she did not know. The joy that he gave her tonight would likely have to last her a good while. Joanna maintained her professional demeanor even as she wanted to cry inside at the idea of saying goodbye.

 

So she focused on her job. She stood and recorded the Knight and the Princess as they wheeled around the dance floor with artificial stars swirling in the air around them and the most prominent people on hundreds of planets looking on and admiring them, and she envied the

magical moment they were having. It should be her moment. It should be her dancing with Rawn. And every time his eyes turned in Joanna’s direction, she could sense that Rawn felt and thought the same thing.

 

Resigning herself to this being the way she would spend her evening, Joanna milled about the party, talking to the other guests and stealing glances at Rawn, and sometimes catching him stealing glances at her. And as the evening wore on, she spied him from across the room as he and Evette strolled from the Arboretum through glass doors into the outer gardens on the grounds of the Ruling Aerie. Outwardly, she still kept her professional comportment, but inside, she could feel herself scowling. Damnit, they’re going out there by themselves. She’s got him alone now! Damn, damn, damn!

 

Outside, Rawn and Evette walked for a bit, Evette still clinging to Rawn’s arm, until they stopped by a garden of roses imported from Earth to take in the perfectly cool night air and the spread of stars in the night overhead. Evette let his arm go, but kept her close as they leaned on the brass rail between them and the roses, and she looked up into his handsome features, showing him her admiration.

 

“This has all been a bit much for you, hasn’t it?” Evette asked.

 

Rawn was a bit started at the question. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“All the celebration, all the commotion over you. It’s all been a bit much, am I correct?”

 

He was quietly impressed at how perceptive she was. “How do you know that?”

 

“It isn’t hard to guess,” Evette said. “You were away and by yourself in space for so long. You’ve gone rather directly from all that isolation, all that time alone, to all of this. Media attention, ceremonies, parades, now a fancy-dress ball. You’re a Knight, after all. You appreciate being honored, even loved by the people you protect. But you don’t do what you do to be celebrated. You can’t wait for everything to calm down and people to start buzzing about something else—can you?”

 

“It’s very bright of you to know that,” said Rawn. “You’re right. I do look forward to everything calming down again—and to getting back to being just a Knight.”

 

“You’re not ‘just a Knight,’ Rawn,” Evette said sincerely. “You’ll never be ‘just a Knight.’ You hold a place in the Knighthood and in this world unlike anyone else. There will always be a special love that people have, a love that’s just for you.”

 

Rawn could not help but look off wistfully at that. He raised his eyes to the stars for a moment, then gazed over at the Arboretum where the gala was still going on—and where there was someone else with whom he wished he could be “calming down” right now. Though, truth to tell, there would be nothing calm about what would happen when he got the two of them

naked and lying down again. And in his ears rang the words, a special love…that’s just for you.

 

With a blink and a start, he faced her again when he heard her say, “Still with me?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course,” he replied apologetically. “I was…a bit distracted for a moment. I seem to be easily distracted lately.”

 

“I suppose anyone would be in your place. I’ve been distracted too, the last few days, attending all kinds of other official functions, counting down the days ’til the function I was

really interested in. Tomorrow, this ball will be over, and you’ll be able to start getting back to something like the life you used to know. You must be looking forward to that.”

 

“That,” said Rawn, still a bit wistfully, “will still take a bit of time. Physically, I’m

recovering very well, but the Knighthood will not assign me official duties until I’ve finished a period of counseling. My…rehabilitation will be going on for a while. It’s making me…restless.”

 

“There must be all kinds of things you’re anxious to get back to,” said Evette, very deliberately placing her hand on his hand which rested on the rail.

 

Rawn felt the warmth of Evette’s touch and looked down at her eyes which seemed to twinkle along with the starlight, with a twinkle in her smile to match. And that was when Evette did it. Startling him again, she reached up, took him by the neck, pulled him down and forward to her—and kissed him full on the lips. It was not merely a peck, this kiss. It was the kiss of a woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to tell him.

 

His feelings jumbled and tumbled inside him. His every instinct and sensation told him he should be responding. She was beautiful, she was female, she was his own kind. She

belonged to the most prominent and important family on Lacerta. He was the most honored of all Knights. They could turn to dragons together, fly together, lock talons and plummet through the air together like mating eagles. And in bed, the sex would surely be the stuff of legends.

 

Rawn and Evette were, in every way, the perfect couple. As much as people were celebrating Rawn now, they would be twice as jubilant about the pairing of Rawn and Evette. His every

instinct told him to take her in his arms, return the kiss with everything but his literal fire, whisk her away to someplace more private, and show her that he meant business every bit as much as she. There was only one problem.

 

The one with whom Rawn really meant business was back in the Arboretum.

 

With hands gently but firmly on her shoulders, Rawn pulled back and out of the kiss that should have been the beginning of the rest of his life. He held Evette at arm’s length and faced her curious expression. The moment hung there with neither of them knowing what to say.

 

Fumbling, Rawn gave her a feeble, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry? For what?” Evette asked, mildly confused.

 

Leaning back, taking his hands from her, Rawn said, “For…this. For that. For… I wasn’t prepared…”

 

“Not prepared? Rawn, a Knight is always prepared—especially for this. What is it? Is it the party? Don’t worry about that…”

 

“But there are people who will be wondering, people who will still want to see us, speak to us. I’m surprised no one has come looking for us.”

 

“Everyone who’d be wondering has been talking about the two of us attending this ball together since it was announced,” said Evette. “No one will be surprised about the two of us wanting a little time alone. It’s what people expect. They won’t mind if we discreetly disappear for a little while.”

 

A distracted look came over Rawn again. There was one person who might mind very much, he knew. He looked back in the direction of the Arboretum, saying nothing. A little jolt ran through him at Evette’s touch on his hand again.

 

“Don’t worry, Rawn,” she said as he spun his back around to her again. “My word, look at you. You’d think this was some battle situation. You’re too tense for a party. We should step away someplace for a while.”

 

Feeling desperate but not wanting her to know it, Rawn said, “Evette, your

parents…they’ll be wondering…”

 

“My parents know I’m not a little girl any more, Rawn,” she replied. “And they also know I’m in the company of a very strong and very honorable Knight, and nothing can happen to me.” She squeezed his hand lightly. “Nothing that I don’t want.”

 

Rawn’s pulse quickened at the squeeze. There was no doubt in his mind that there was another part of him that Evette wanted to be squeezing with another part of her. And he had no doubt that it would be glorious. By rights, he should even now be taking her somewhere—a

secluded spot in the gardens, a private room, perhaps her own room—and doing to her what she so clearly wanted, and what, at any other time, he would eagerly do to her or dozens of other

females at a moment’s notice.

 

But Evette and dozens of other females were not one particular female. This was a

moment of truth for him, this realization that as much, as he would like to take Evette

somewhere, hike up her gown, strip down the bottom of his armor, and plunge his shaft deep into her, and as wonderful as it would be…there was one he wanted more than any other. For the first time in his life, Rawn, who could be between the thighs of so many, wanted only one.

 

His feelings were not lost on Evette, who felt him grow stiff, and not in the way she wanted. She gave him a perplexed look. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“It’s nothing,” he replied with a shake of his head.

 

“Are you feeling well? We could have someone take a look at you—discreetly, so no one would be upset.”

 

“No…no, I’m not ill. It’s not that.”

 

“What, then?” She was growing more concerned and more perplexed.

 

With a reassuring touch on her shoulder, Rawn answered, “Evette, I think we should just return to the party.”

 

“It isn’t anything I said, is it? Or…anything I did?” She touched the hand he put on her shoulder, as if to feel what was wrong.

 

“Of course not. You’re wonderful, Evette. I’m happy to be with you.”

 

“Then come with me somewhere and be just with me,” she said. Searching his face for the answer to his strange mood, she wondered aloud, “Unless…you don’t want to.” His

expression remained troublingly unreadable, and her own concern deepened. “Is that it? Do you…not want to?”

 

Truly saddened at the possibility of hurting her feelings, Rawn replied, “Evette…I always want to. Always.”

 

“Then why…?” she asked, uncomprehending.

 

“I don’t think I can,” he replied. “Or…I don’t think I should.” He looked down, not wanting her to see a regret that he had never felt until now.

 

They were quiet for a moment. The only sound was that of muted music wafting out from inside the Arboretum. It gave Evette the chance to think—and realize.

 

“Really?” she asked, not saying what she had guessed. “Is it someone at the ball? Is it someone else here now?”

 

Meeting her eyes again, Rawn said, “There has been…something else happening this week. There has just been…”

 

“And she’s here, isn’t she?” Evette said, growing ever more certain from seeing his

expression. His silence was her answer.

 

Rawn took her by the hand and said, “Let me just take you back inside. We’ll dance, we’ll show ourselves enjoying the evening and enjoying each other’s company. I promise I’ll give you my undivided attention.”

 

Now, Evette smiled, touched by his concern for the way she felt. “You won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll try to keep your attention only on me. You’ll put on a show for the rest of the ball and for the press. You’ll put a good face on it, because you’re good and you’re kind and you’re noble. But you’re not that noble that you can forget whoever it is you really want.”

 

Rawn was stung to hear her say it aloud. “Evette, I am so truly sorry.”

 

She squeezed his hand again, and it felt different than the last time. “Yes, Rawn, I know you are. And so am I. I’m sorry that we won’t get to share what I wanted tonight—and past

tonight. I would have loved it. And, if things were different…so would you.”

 

He nodded, knowing the truth of that, at least. “Yes, I definitely would.”

 

Evette sighed. “We might as well go back inside, then.”

 

“In a while,” Rawn said. “We should take a moment, compose ourselves. Let them think we’re having a different time than we’re actually having; it will do no harm. We’ll go back in a while. For now, we can just listen to the music from out here and look at the stars.”

 

“You really are good and kind, Sir Rawn Ullery,” she said with a little smile.

 

“And you are very beautiful and understanding,” he said back.

 

Smiling softly, they leaned on the rail and took in the muted music of the ball and the scent of the roses, looking up into the face of the galaxy above them.

_______________

 

Since watching Rawn and Evette stroll out to the gardens together, Joanna had succeeded in smiling her way through the evening like the professional she was, but it had taken a toll that she could feel, regardless of whether anyone could see it. In the midst of talking with guests and dignitaries, she had kept looking across the Arboretum to the glass doors through which they had gone, looking for any sign of them coming back in or any sign that they had come in while she was occupied. They had not reappeared.

 

She reasoned they would have to rejoin the party soon, as the whole evening was about Rawn. They would have to dance another dance together for the cameras and, in fact, a number of the other female guests, including the First Dragon herself, had expressed an interest in having a turn on the floor with him. Rawn’s dance card should be very full this evening—as soon as he showed himself again.

 

Perhaps, thought Joanna, it was better that Rawn had stepped out with Evette. That would at least spare Joanna the sight of him dancing with any number of other females besides the Prime Couple’s daughter. The prospect of seeing a half dozen other women on Rawn’s arm, and seeing him lead them in dances, did nothing to help her smile. But then, her mind went someplace she wanted it to go even less: to the idea of what Rawn might be doing with Evette while they were out of sight.

 

The moment the thought came into her mind, she dismissed it. No, that could not happen. After the hours and nights they had spent together, and the way they had spent them, Rawn could not do that to her. More to the point, he could not do that to her by doing anything to Evette. It could not be. She had known him only a short time and been sleeping with him for a shorter time, but she felt as though she knew him well enough.

 

Though he had a dragon’s libido, he was good and he was honorable and he would not hurt her that way. It was more likely that Evette would try something with him than that he would start something with Evette, and if the Prime Daughter did make an advance on him, he would not allow anything to happen. Joanna was sure of it.

 

But an evening spent working the room while reassuring herself soon became taxing, and Joanna welcomed a break when the opportunity arose. Presently, she had Epaulette perching itself on her shoulder ribbon, and she excused herself from the ball, not in the direction where Rawn and Evette went but in the opposite direction, to a place where she could hear the babbling and tinkling of running water.

 

It was one of the rooms off the main Arboretum that were reserved for individual quiet contemplation. It had shrubs and dwarf trees and tall windows, tiled pave stones and an interior lawn, arranged around a stone fountain where water sparkled and softly splashed.

 

Joanna entered the contemplation room and, at once, found that the place soothed her nerves. The music of the ball filtered through at a lower volume, mingling with the gentle babble of the water, and Joanna’s breath and heartbeat slowed and she began to settle down.

 

Beside the fountain was a marble bench like the one of which she and Rawn had sat outside when he’d first asked her to bed and she’d turned him down on principle. It would do her good to sit for a little while and remember and reflect before going back into the main Arboretum and going back to work. By then, Rawn was likely to have returned.

 

Joanna sat down and closed her eyes, focusing her mind on the relaxing sound of the water beside her. She thought of herself sinking into a warm bath with Rawn, his hands and lips all over her above and below the water—and what else he had for her down there. She breathed in and breathed out, and smiled at the thought of his manly scent…

 

…and that was when she heard someone say, “Excuse me…Joanna? Could you spare me a moment?”

 

She knew the voice and was thoroughly startled to hear it. Opening her eyes and looking to her left, Joanna saw Evette standing there—without Rawn.

 

Joanna almost leapt from the bench, suddenly nervous and confused. Suppressing a stammer, she said, “Ms. Veles…I was just…” Looking behind and beyond Evette, Joanna was more perplexed by the second. “Where’s Rawn?” she asked.

 

Smiling, Evette said, “I asked him to excuse me. I was hoping to have a few moments with you, if I could.”

 

“Me…?”

 

“Yes, Joanna. I think you and I should talk.”

 

“About…?”

 

“I think you know,” said Evette. “There’s no need to pretend. Rawn told me.”

 

Joanna’s eyebrows arched. Her eyes fluttered. “He…told you…?”

 

“About himself and you. About the two of you. He told me.”

 

“Oh,” said Joanna, feeling as exposed as she would be if she were alone and away from the ball with Rawn. “I see. He told you.”

 

“Yes, he did,” Evette replied. “And I think we should talk about it. To clear the air, to know where we stand.”

 

Now, Joanna felt flustered. Everything she had said to Rawn—and then ignored as if she’d never said it—now came rushing back to her. Here were the consequences of breaking her ethics and crossing a line that a mediate should never cross. Here was personal embarrassment at best and an incident that could seriously damage her career at worst. All the consequences that she had foreseen were right here in front of her now, clad in a black and red gown, in the form of the daughter of the leader of a planet.

 

If Evette were to make enough noise about what Joanna had allowed to happen, Joanna would be fortunate to end up writing obituaries for obscure people on backwater planets. Had the pleasure of being in bed with Rawn been worth the risk? She was now about to find out.

 

Sounding every bit as vulnerable as she felt, Joanna repeated, “Where we stand…?”

 

“Yes,” said Evette. “We both have an interest here, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

 

“He actually told you…”

 

“Of course, he told me. Rawn is a Knight. He’s honest and he’s fair. He knew that I had an interest, and he wanted to be fair to me after what had happened between you. So yes, he told me—everything. He told me that you’ve been sleeping together.”

 

“I didn’t know he would do that,” said Joanna in a voice that must have sounded every bit as fluttery as her heart felt. “But you’re right, it’s something he would do. He is honest. Honest and fair. Ms. Veles, if this has hurt you or disappointed you in any way, I want you to know I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

 

“…to hurt me,” Evette finished for her. “I’m sure you didn’t. I’m sure neither of you was thinking about doing any harm to me or anyone else. When someone is in your position—if you’ll pardon the word—hurting someone else is usually the last thing on their mind.”

 

“Rawn and I,” said Joanna, struggling with her words, “we’ve had these feelings, I guess. We weren’t acting on them, but they were there. And when Rawn decided to be as honest with me as he was with you…I guess our feelings just took over. I tried to stop it at first. I told him why we shouldn’t let it happen.”

 

Evette made a knowing look at her. “But knowing it shouldn’t happen and stopping it are two different things.”

 

“You’re being so understanding,” Joanna said. “More understanding than you ought to be. More understanding than I would be. If I were you…”

 

“You’d be feeling hurt, jealous, angry. Especially over a man like Rawn, the most

exceptional, special man in the world. The most desirable man, it’s true. But I’m none of those things, Joanna. I’m really not. In my position, I understand what it is to be wanted by more than one possible partner. I know who Rawn is. I know how desirable and how desired he is. I’d have to be blind not to know that. I simply assumed what many people assumed, that the First Daughter of Lacerta and our greatest Knight were a natural couple. You know that a lot of

people think that way.”

 

Joanna sighed. “I know. But Ms. Veles…”

 

“Please,” the woman in black and red corrected her, “call me Evette. It’s all right to call me Evette.”

 

“Evette,” said Joanna, “there’s been this…feeling between Rawn and me. And it just…pulled the two of us together. We weren’t thinking about anything but the way we felt. That’s all it was.”

 

“You can’t ignore a feeling like that,” said Evette. “It won’t let you ignore it. You can try, but you can’t just turn it off. And I can’t compete with that. I can compete with other things, but not with a feeling like that. There’s really only one thing I can do, Joanna.”

 

“What’s that?” Joanna asked.

 

“Just this,” Evette replied. And then the daughter of the Prime Dragon of Lacerta did a curious thing. She put her lips together and exhaled. Joanna had no chance at all to react to what followed.

 

From Evette’s pursed lips came a stream of mist that flowed out into the air and

blossomed and bloomed into a cloud like fog over a meadow on a cool, crisp morning. The cloud crossed the space between the two women and enveloped Joanna. Breathing in the vapor, Joanna reeled back, tossing her head, suddenly overcome with dizziness. In less than a second, she felt another fog inside, closing over her mind even as the one from Evette engulfed her body. She tried to say something, to shout something. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. She staggered. She dropped to the floor and did not move.

 

The mist dissipated as quickly as Joanna fell, and Evette stood over the human female lying by the fountain. In another moment, there was no Evette Veles. The Alpha Dragon’s daughter morphed and transformed, clothing and all, her entire appearance shifting, changing. What stood over Joanna now was a smiling Knight in silver armor, the one to whom the grass dragon flew after perching on Joanna’s window ledge while Rawn and Joanna urgently joined bodies on their first morning together.

 

The young Knight quickly knelt down and plucked Epaulette from Joanna’s shoulder. He left the AI lying on the pave stones, picked Joanna up and tossed her over his shoulder, and stepped around the fountain and between the dwarf trees on the far side of the contemplation room. And with the music in the Arboretum on the other side of the room, the Knight and

Joanna were gone.

 

 

At length, Rawn and Evette decided that, since Rawn was the reason for the ball, they ought to go back inside. The decision sat well with Rawn because Joanna was still in the

Arboretum, though he discreetly did not say this to Evette, and back they went.

 

There was drinking, and as he drank, Rawn searched the crowd of elegantly dressed

people and beings from dozens of planets for the one face he most wanted to see. Curiously, that one face was absent. Why would Joanna not be nearby? Her Bureau was paying her to keep him in her sight, record his doings, and report on anything interesting that he did or anyone interesting with whom he might interact.

 

He could not see her anywhere. It made no sense that she would make herself inconspicuous. She ought to be in the thick of the party, mingling and chatting with the guests and seizing any holograph opportunity he presented. But she was nowhere to be found.

 

There was dancing. Rawn took another turn on the floor with Evette, and soon, her father cut in to have a dance with her, and Evette handed Rawn off to her mother. Rawn danced as gracefully with Marcine Veles as he knew how, and smiled a gallant and courtly smile at her,

 respecting her station as the mate of the ruler of the planet.

 

To be sure, Rawn thought, Joanna would be nearby with Epaulette, getting all of this in memory. Other mediates, he knew, were dutifully scanning and recording this moment; Joanna must be among them. But as he wheeled about the floor with Ms. Veles, there was still no sign of Joanna at all. Underneath his smile, his curiosity was quickly turning to concern.

 

An enormous cake was brought out on a long, floating tray. It would be Rawn’s task to make the first cut of the cake, another moment to be recorded for transmission all over the

quadrant. Dame Sienna handed him the ceremonial knife and stood by with the Veles family while Rawn dutifully sank the blade into the confection for the first slice. As he did, he looked up smiling into a sea of admiring faces and the shine of mediates’ floating AI units.

 

Once again, he searched for Joanna Way with her Epaulette, who had to be standing nearby, capturing the moment. And once again, there was no Joanna. Rawn’s smile was starting to

become decidedly forced. Having made the first cut, he handed off the knife to one of the

serving staff who would continue the task of subdividing the cake for the throng of guests. In the meantime, Rawn stepped aside and discreetly accosted the lady Mentor. “Dame Sienna,” he whispered, “could I have a word with you? In private?”

 

The Dame nodded, and they stepped away to a place in the Arboretum where one of the larger trees had been allowed to stay for the evening. And while the other guests occupied themselves with the cake, Rawn took the opportunity to speak with Sienna.

 

“Milady,” he asked, “have you seen Joanna Way lately?”

 

Quizzically, Sienna looked about the large, wide space of the Arboretum and made an expression as curious as Rawn’s had been since coming back from the gardens. “Now you

mention it, it’s been a little while since I’ve seen Ms. Way. I assumed she was mingling and

reporting and she was simply in another part of the ball.”

 

“So did I,” said Rawn. “But I’ve kept looking and looking. I haven’t seen her anywhere.”

 

Sienna frowned slightly. “That is very odd. She certainly would not have left and walked out on her assignment. She should be about here somewhere. All the other mediates are here. Have you spoken to any of them?”

 

“I haven’t had the chance,” Rawn said. “When the other mediates have come to speak with me, I naturally haven’t brought up the subject of someone from another Bureau; it would be off the subject and bad form. I have no idea whether anyone else has found Joanna missing, and I don’t know where she would have gone and not come back.”

 

“This is troubling,” Sienna admitted. She spoke into the badge of her dress uniform: “Access Stellarnet. Any news items of a major or urgent nature on Lacerta or elsewhere in the quadrant. Any crisis or emergency situations in Commonwealth space. Report.”

 

An AI voice from Sienna’s badge replied, “No urgent news items. No crisis or

emergency situations occurring in Commonwealth space.”

 

A look of complete incomprehension passed between Sienna and Rawn—incomprehension turning to a deep and cutting anxiety.

 

Sienna addressed her badge again. “Scan identification signals of all mediate AIs in the Arboretum. State the location of the AI belonging to Joanna Way of the Terran News Service.”

 

In a second, the badge answered, “AI belonging to Joanna Way is in the Northwest

Contemplation Room.”

 

Rawn cut in: “Is Joanna Way in the Northwest Contemplation Room?”

 

“Negative,” said the badge.

 

The look of confusion and mounting dread that Rawn and Sienna shared lasted only a second before they quickly and quietly made their way along the edge of the party goers and headed for the room in question.

 

Hurried minutes later, they entered the space where the Dame’s badge said they would find Epaulette. With a quick search, they found the little device lying near the fountain where it had been left. Rawn picked it up at once.

 

“Where would she go and why would she leave this here?” he wondered fearfully aloud.

 

“Perhaps if we activate the device it will provide a clue,” Sienna suggested.

 

“We’d have to have Joanna’s passcode or a way to bypass it,” said Rawn.

 

“We can obtain that,” said Sienna, “but we’ll require authorization from the Terran News Service. It’s better we go to the Spires for that. We’ll have to go back to the ball and excuse ourselves to the Veles family.”

 

“Then, let’s go,” said Rawn, looking from the brooch-like device in his hand back into the Arboretum and the party.

 

Quickly, Rawn and the Dame found the Veles family near the now thoroughly portioned and distributed cake. They explained the situation and why they had to leave immediately, and the Prime and First Dragons were disappointed but understanding. As Sienna preceded him

toward the entranceway where he had walked with Evette down the red carpet, Rawn felt the tug of Evette at his arm.

 

He paused, turned, and looked into her knowing gaze. “Joanna Way, then,” she simply said, her meaning implicit from the way she said it.

 

Solemnly, Rawn replied, “Yes. Joanna.” His concern for Joanna—his concern and so many other things—were all over his face and heavy in his voice. There was no way Evette could not have known, after their talk in the garden.

 

Unruffled and accepting, Evette nodded softly. “Of course. You rescued her. You’ve spent the most time in her company. Of course…Joanna Way.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Rawn said.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Evette replied. “Just go and find her. Make certain she’s all right. You must go. There’s nothing else for it. I think I’d actually be disappointed if you didn’t.”

 

“Thank you,” said Rawn. Then, “Could I ask you just one favor, please?”

 

“How can I help?” asked Evette.

 

“People are going to notice that I’m leaving early and leaving without you. There are

going to be questions, and this place is filled with media…”

 

“…and since you escorted me here, you’ll need me to tell them something when they ask. I may have to be a bit creative, but I’m certain I can think of something.”

 

“Perhaps you ought to keep it simple,” Rawn suggested.

 

As ominous as the situation seemed, Evette couldn’t stifle a smile with one side of her lips. “Leave it to me,” she said. “I’ve had enough practice explaining some of my own absences to my parents when some young dragon came calling. But before you go…just one thing.”

 

“What?”

 

“If you don’t mind me saying it, Joanna Way is a very fortunate human.” And with that, she reached up on tiptoes and kissed him warmly on the cheek. In spite of everything else he was feeling, Rawn smiled back just a little.

 

“I hope she is,” said Rawn. And taking Evette’s hand from his arm and giving it an

appreciative squeeze, he hurried out behind Dame Sienna.

_______________

 

To secure the needed authorization from the main bureau of the Terran News Service on Earth would have taken an entire day, and every instinct told Rawn and Sienna that Joanna Way might not have that long. Using her authority with the Spires, prevailing on the good will

between Lacerta and Earth, and calling in a favor or two, Sienna was able to wrangle access to a temporary override of Joanna’s AI security from the local Terran News Service Bureau on Lacerta itself. She and Rawn took Epaulette to Sienna’s private office, set it on Sienna’s desk, and gave it the verbal command and code to permit access to its contents. The result was immediate.

 

A beam of light rose from the metal jewelry object on the desk. The beam expanded, and the light resolved itself into the holographic image of a man sitting at the controls of the spaceship. A star that they guessed was Catalan blazed through the self-tinted viewport. The man smiled a smile of false benevolence, geniality laced with venom. Rawn and Sienna recognized him at once. Sienna put a hand to her chest as if to still her heart. Rawn staggered a step, shocked, horrified, enraged. He snarled the man’s name as if it were the foulest curse in the universe:

 

“Sabian!”

 

The image of Dr. Sewall Sabian at last spoke. “Sir Rawn Ullery, my old foe. I knew you would need a moment to register the fact that I am as alive as you are, so I waited a bit before starting to record this greeting to you. As you can see, we both survived that final battle in the Chimerian warp nexus. As you can also see, I’m recording this message from the cockpit of my ship just safely outside the orbit of Catalan.

 

I’ve had an agent on Lacerta, watching and reporting back to me everything pertinent to my interests that might be going on there. You can imagine the way I felt when his report was about your ‘homecoming,’ as the media have been calling it. And on the subject of the media, while I am safe from the fires of your home star, there is someone else who soon might not be.”

 

In the recording, Sabian waved a hand over the control panel of his ship, and the visual content of the hologram shifted. The next thing that Rawn and Sienna saw was a sight to freeze Rawn’s blood in spite of his power to breathe fire. It was a stark, bare, enclosed space, with only a long seat on either side of it, and another tinted viewport out of which the searing disk of Catalan was visible. And on one of those long seats lay the unconscious Joanna Way, still in her ball gown, oblivious as of yet to her own plight.

 

Rawn recognized where Joanna lay as the interior of an escape pod. And the contours of what was happening—and what could be about to happen—to Joanna began to take shape in his mind.

 

Sabian continued in voice, “As you can see, my agent delivered Ms. Way to me

unharmed. And she’ll remain so—on the condition that you obey my next commands. Our

battle of so many years ago, Sir Rawn, is unfinished. It’s time to bring it to a close, the only close that is acceptable.

 

 For your crimes against the Chimerian expansion, for leading the attack force that resulted in the destruction of the High Chimerian, for nearly causing my own destruction as well as that of the master I served, your life is forfeit. I command you to come to the coordinates of my ship, which will be in the memory of Ms. Way’s AI which we left for you to find. You will come alone, with no other ships and no other members of the Lacertan Knighthood or Corps.

 

You will face me, and you will submit to the annihilation you’ve earned at my hand. If you fail to obey… Your lover, Ms. Way, is aboard an escape pod which I’ve reprogrammed. Fail to submit to me, and I’ll launch the pod on a course other than that of escape. It will take her directly into the corona of Catalan, from which she will not be returning.”

 

The recording cut back to Sabian at his ship’s controls. “The AI is now transmitting to me the time at which you’re viewing this message, Sir Knight. You have three hours in which to rendezvous with my ship at these coordinates and surrender yourself for execution. I’m sure that you, being the gallant Knight that you are, will comply with my instructions and appear as

commanded. You’d never permit anything to happen to Ms. Way.

 

Once your lifeless body is at my feet, I’ll reprogram the pod to take her back to Lacerta, where she’ll have the sad duty to report the utter and final destruction of Lacerta’s greatest Knight. In a way, you’ll have done her a great service, providing her with yet another historic event to report. But then I know you’re quite accustomed to providing services to Ms. Way. This will be your last. The clock is counting down, Sir Knight, and I’m waiting.”

 

The hologram flickered out and a tomblike silence fell over the office—a silence that was short-lived.

 

His heavy breathing turning to hisses and snarls. Rawn stepped back from Sienna’s desk. His fists clenched and unclenched. His body shifted and morphed until, in a matter of seconds, he was in dragon form, wings unfurled and tail furiously thrashing. Smoke poured from his nostrils. He reared back his head and opened his jaws wide. His mouth was a cauldron of fire with cruel ivory fangs.

 

And he bellowed out a roar that could have brought down the ceiling and toppled the Spires from their foundations. Dame Sienna had never witnessed such a moment of all-consuming fury. As a Mentor and a trainer, she had seen the Knights of Lacerta in every conceivable mood from mirth to despair—but she had never seen anything to compare to this. It made her tremble inside to watch Rawn now.

 

At last, Rawn, not bothering himself to morph back to human, faced the Mentor again. Smoke pouring from his nostrils and fire still dancing on his tongue, he said in a dark and ashen voice, “My ship, the Justice Claw—what is its status?”

 

Quietly shaken, Dame Sienna replied, “At last report, it had passed through a full

maintenance routine. I don’t believe final diagnostics have been run yet.”

 

“There’s no time for them,” said Rawn. “I must have my ship—now.”

 

For the first and only time in his Knightly life, Rawn addressed a Mentor, his superior Knight, in a tone that was not a request but a demand. Under any other circumstances, he would be subject to reprimand, report, or even relief from duty for such a transgression. Sienna did none of the above. She simply replied, “You’ll have it. You intend to comply with Sabian’s

demands, then.”

 

“I can do nothing else,” Rawn fumed. “He made himself clear. I can’t sacrifice Joanna. I can’t allow anything to happen to her. I must surrender to him or he’ll cast Joanna into the Sun. I’ll go to him—alone, as he demanded. I’ll face him. And…one of us will lose his life.”

 

Sienna said, “We can still send other Knights after you. They can keep their distance and monitor everything that happens on Sabian’s ship. They can move in to assist you if you need them.”

 

Rawn waved off the idea. “No…no. You must know that Sabian will be sweeping the area with long-range sensors. They’ll be found out, and then even I might not be able to save Joanna. I have to go alone, and finish this—finish our old battle, one way or the other.”

 

“You don’t actually mean to lay down your life to him!” Sienna protested.

 

“I mean to do whatever is necessary to save Joanna,” Rawn snorted, smoke curling thickly from his nostrils. “Whatever it costs.” He stepped back over to Sienna's desk and picked up Epaulette from it. “I may have need of this,” he told her. “May I take it?”

 

“Of course,” the Mentor said.

 

“Thank you, Milady,” said Rawn. “Of you and the Knighthood, I wish to request only one other thing.”

 

“What is that?” Sienna asked.

 

“If I do not return…I ask you to use every dragon, every resource, every power at your disposal to hunt Sabian down and destroy him once and for all.” His manner calmed, but only slightly. His voice still seethed with a crackling fire of anger. “As you honor me, I ask you—please, in my name, bring Sabian to final justice.”

 

“We will, Sir Knight,” said Sienna. “You are the pride of Lacerta, and I will make it my mission to lead the Knighthood and avenge you.”

 

Rawn bowed to the Mentor. “You have my undying thanks, Milady.” And without

another word, he turned with a final slash of his tail and left Dame Sienna’s office.

 

 

THE FINAL

 

The Justice Claw pierced the outer atmosphere of Lacerta and peeled off into open space.

 

Shifted back to human form, dressed once again in standard armor skin, and seated in the cockpit, Rawn was oblivious to the stars outside his viewport. He could hardly see space; he could only think of time—the narrowing gap of time between now and the moment when Sewall Sabian would make good on his threat against Joanna.

 

“Go to autopilot,” he commanded his ship. The indicators and telltales on his instrument panel flashed, and there was a subtle change in the vibration from the engines, indicating that the ship was now being piloted by its AI. Rawn reached for a self-sealing pouch on the hip of his armor skin, peeled it open, and withdrew Epaulette from it. He placed the little piece of jewelry on the panel in front of him and said, “Display ship schematics of the source of the last inbound transmission.”

 

A finger of light rose from Epaulette and spread out into a display of the vessel from which Sabian’s blackmail transmission had originated. Specific information about a ship

transmitting a message could be blocked at the discretion of the owner or pilot, but some

information was generic and readily accessible to the Interstar Fleet or the Spires, for reasons of safety and security within the quadrant.

 

There were instances in which the authorities would need to know what kind of vessel had sent a given transmission, so certain data identifying a craft could not be encrypted. That was the only thing potentially working in Rawn’s favor right now. With luck, he could find out something about the ship that Sabian was using as his lair and Joanna’s prison, and perhaps even find a way to save her, by studying the schematics of the craft while speeding to the rendezvous.

 

Frowning in concentration, he ran his eyes over the light images showing the configuration and inner layout of the craft. It was a light battle cruiser that might have come from any number of planets or shipyards in known space. It was armed but no match for the larger battle craft of the Fleet or the Spires—just powerful and fast enough to serve a single pilot or a pilot with a small crew.

 

Rawn frowned more deeply. Sabian had said in the recording that he had a spy on Lacerta who had been watching him and Joanna and waiting for the right

moment to move in and abduct her. How many foes would he find waiting for him aboard

Sabian’s ship, putting themselves between him and Joanna.

 

A hot churning of anger seethed in his stomach at the thought of that spy, hiding in plain sight, stalking him, secretly hovering over Joanna. The spy must have been there, taking any number of different forms, lurking in crowds, creeping after them when they were alone. The spy could have been there, gazing through windows, when he and Joanna were in bed. Sabian’s agent could have seen the things the two of them did to each other while naked and aroused and thrashing together, that were meant to be shared only between the two of them.

 

For that alone, Rawn swore he would make certain that Sabian stayed dead this time.

 

He studied the vessel’s schematics more intently and noted the positions of the escape pod bays, one on either side of the craft, lying between amidships and the aft engine drive. One of them contained Joanna. His breath felt hot enough to turn to fire while still in his human form. Sabian would not harm Joanna so long as he could hold her over Rawn’s head to force his submission.

 

But the thought of her as that creature’s prisoner was enough to make him utterly forget any concept of Knightly mercy he had ever been taught. It was not enough that Sabian had murdered Jacques Phifer and become the disciple of a monster bent on enslaving all life. Now, Sabian had dared to menace her. For that, his life was forfeit.

 

With Rawn taking in every detail of the enemy craft’s design, the Justice Claw streaked on its way towards Catalan.

_______________

When Joanna opened her eyes again, she was aware, through her blurred vision and the swishing feeling inside her head, that she was not where she remembered being a moment ago—and it quickly came to her that a good deal more time must have passed than just a moment.

 

A clear look at her surroundings came through the fog in her brain and told her that her first guess was all too right. This was no contemplation room in the Arboretum of the Lacerta Ruling Aerie. This was a much more enclosed, spartan and austere place, where the only soft thing was the cushion on which she was lying.

 

Wherever it was, it had a viewport—not a window but a viewport—out of which a strange glow was coming. She dragged herself up from where she had found herself lying and half-stumbled the few steps over to the viewport. Once there, she realized the port must have been partially opaque; otherwise, the source of the light would have been overwhelming, almost palpably intense. Outside of wherever she was, a star loomed large and blazing. She guessed it was Catalan.

 

Joanna’s mouth dropped open wordlessly. Somehow, she was in orbit of

Catalan without the slightest clue to how she’d gotten there.

 

Or wait… The last thing she remembered was talking to Evette Veles. Except, it can’t have really been Evette Veles, because the daughter of the Prime Dragon could not have possibly done the last thing that Joanna remembered happening. First, Joanna gulped in the muted glare of the star. Then, she whispered gravely, “Oh no…”

 

Next, she called out, “Epaulette! Epaulette? How much time has passed since our last recording?” There was no response. She fumbled at her shoulder ribbon. Her fingers touched only the ribbon. She felt as if the bottom of her stomach were dropping out. Vainly, she looked at the unadorned ribbon on her shoulder. A cold horror came over Joanna. Her trusty AI was missing—or had been taken from her.

 

Frantically, she whirled around, putting her back to the viewport and now facing what she knew was the hatch of some compartment of a spaceship. In the window of the hatch was a face. Joanna squinted at the man staring at her from outside the compartment. She recognized that face—and the impossibility of it.

 

“I see I have no need to wake you, Joanna,” said Sewall Sabian. “That’s very good. I wanted you fully in possession of your senses for what’s soon to happen.”

 

Joanna shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. She forced the name from her lips: “Sewall Sabian? How…?”

 

“How am I alive? How did I escape the destruction of the Chimerian warp nexus? Your Sir Rawn was not the only one displaced in space, Ms. Way. I returned to the quadrant less than a year ago and have been biding my time, slowly recovering resources and power. The High Chimerian is gone, thanks to your good Sir Rawn Ullery. But the vision of all life in the galaxy unified through Chimerian genomes is still alive. It will soon rise again. Your Sir Rawn will be here soon, and once he has faced me and met the fate that he’s earned, I can turn my full

attention to realizing that vision. I may even allow you to live and be a part of it.”

 

Suddenly, too furious to behave as the captive she was, Joanna felt like hurling herself at that hatch, ripping it away, lunging at Sabian, and battering him senseless. She wished she had Rawn’s strength; she would do exactly that. “You brought me here to force Rawn to confront you?” Joanna shouted. “You’re using me to get to him?”

 

“I’ll admit, I could have simply called him out to battle. He would certainly have come. He wouldn’t have refused my challenge in any case. But by availing myself of some leverage with you, Ms. Way, I was able to dictate the terms of our confrontation to my own liking. And if you’ll pardon my saying so, your relationship with the good Knight has provided me with the most optimal leverage.”

 

Warily, Joanna demanded, “What are you talking about?”

 

“The word ‘relationship’ should speak for itself, I think. Your relationship with Sir Rawn is rather more intimate than just a matter of media coverage, isn’t it? I’ve never been a voyeur, and if I were, I would certainly have endless other choices of erotic entertainment. And yet, the two of you…”

 

Now, Joanna was livid. Her hands clenched like claws, then turned to fists. She leered at him,  teeth bared, wishing they were dragon fangs. She screamed at him, her voice bouncing sharply off the walls of the pod, “You bastard! You son of a bitch! You watched us? You watched me with Rawn? You spied on us in…in…”

 

Sabian raised a hand to calm her, knowing that it would not. “I took no pleasure in watching his pleasure with you,” he said. “It was only information that I required to know the right leverage to use. To be honest, I’m relieved that he isn’t bedding Ms. Veles. That would complicate matters for me much more. His liaison with you makes things much simpler.”

 

Joanna glared at him, wishing she could breathe fire on him. “Oh, it’s going to be simple, all right,” she sneered. “It’ll be very simple when he catches you. He’ll tear you to pieces and broil the shreds.”

 

“He’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Sabian confidently. “If he shows any resistance to my demands, if he dares to strike at me…he knows what will happen to you. I’m sure you’re observant enough to realize exactly where you are, Ms. Way. You’re in one of my ship’s escape pods, and we’re in orbit of Catalan. The pod you’re occupying has been programmed to take a very specific course once it’s launched.”

 

Joanna’s eyes bulged. She spun around and gazed out the viewport again, seeing the disk of Catalan roiling with thermonuclear fire outside. She spun back around and caught the cold look of assurance on Sabian’s face, and realized exactly what “leverage” he had used on Rawn.

 

“I have every belief that the good Knight cares enough for you that he won’t allow you to burn up in the Sun,” said Sabian. “To protect you, he’ll do as I say and give up his life to me. And that will finish my business with both of you.”

 

“No!” Joanna cried. “Don’t hurt him!”

 

Sabian smiled, a smile of mock compassion. “I’m sure he’d make the same plea about you. But these are my terms, Ms. Way. No harm will come to you—as long as he gives himself to be destroyed when he stands before me. He’ll be here soon, and it will be short work. I’ll make it quick and final. Then, I’ll send you on your way back to Lacerta. You’ll have quite a story to file. Having reported the return of Sir Rawn Ullery, you’ll now have the privilege of reporting his death. This time, his true death. It won’t be long now.”

 

The man’s face disappeared from the hatch of the escape pod, and Joanna knew he was off, probably to the bridge of the ship, to wait for Rawn. She ran to the hatch and pounded on it, pressing her face to the metal. “Sabian!” The sound of her screams reverberated again in the small space in which she was trapped. “Sabian, don’t do this! Don’t do this! Don’t…”

 

Her voice broke. It was futile, she knew. Nothing she did could deter the disciple of the High Chimerian, or stop Rawn doing what he would soon do when the Justice Claw made its rendezvous. There was nothing now but to wait for the showdown between the two old

enemies—and its terrible outcome.

 

Joanna trudged back across the pod to the viewport and the muted glow of Catalan

outside. Not long ago, she had watched the drones carry the wreckage of the Scodax invasion into the star. If Rawn dared to defy Sabian, she would meet the same fate. One way, her life was over. The other way, he was doomed.

 

She sank onto the floor of the escape pod, too despondent to cry.

_______________

 

Rawn docked the Justice Claw at Sabian’s ship and received Sabian’s instructions to come directly to the ship’s bridge, where he would be waiting. “I trust you know how to find the bridge,” Sabian said condescendingly.

 

“I know exactly where to find you, Sabian,” Rawn said, not bothering to hide the tone of loathing and contempt in his voice.

 

That was not all that Rawn knew. During the trip out, he had done more than study the schematics of the vessel where the Justice Claw was now moored. He had done a check of the ship’s registry, through channels available only to the Knighthood, the Corps, and the Interstar Fleet. He had learned that this craft had come from one of those shipyards in remote, out-of-the-way systems where reputable space travelers, touring vessels, and official space traffic rarely went, one of those places where older ships were salvaged and rehabbed for sale to less than

reputable clients for purposes not necessarily legal.

 

And Sabian had no doubt that it concealed his identity in the transaction. Of course, the

Justice Claw itself was an old ship, but it had been restored by the most expert engineers on

Lacerta, and its hull and workings had been brought up to state-of-the-art standards. The craft that Sabian was using made the perfect vehicle for his present purposes, as no one would think to look for the would-be conqueror of the galaxy at the helm of such a ship. But the fact was that this was not a new, state-of-the-art spacecraft and did not have access to the resources that a Knight of Lacerta would have. And this might work to Rawn’s advantage.

 

The hatch of the bridge slid open, and Rawn stepped inside. At once, he was transported fifteen years back in time. The righteous wrath of a decade and a half ago burned hot inside him again as the figure at the controls stood up from his seat and faced him. It might as well have been the moment when they’d last faced each other—except that Rawn, back then, was fixed and intent purely on duty and justice. Now, it was something more. Now, the stakes were higher. Now, it was personal.

 

“Welcome aboard, Sir Knight,” Sabian said mockingly. “What a moment this is. We’ve changed so little. You’re bigger now, physically, than you were then. And there’s a haunted look about you, which I’m sure is from the years that you were lost. But you’re the same upstart,

presumptuous boy who once defied the High Chimerian and me.”

 

“You’re still the same, yourself, Sabian,” Rawn said through clenched teeth. “That’s what alien kinking of your genes will do for you.”

 

“This from someone who needs a mineral bath to keep his own altered genes clean,” Sabian shot back.

 

“This from someone who isn’t a traitor to his species,” Rawn half-snarled.

 

“You understand as little now as you did then,” answered Sabian. “It’s good that I’m

going to destroy you now, boy, and put you out of the misery of your ignorance.” Straightening his coveralls in an almost ceremonial gesture, Sabian called, “Step forward, Sir Rawn Ullery, and accept the fate that you’ve earned.”

 

Sabian gestured to the middle of the room. The bridge of this ship was not a large, open place, but it would have just room enough, Rawn reasoned, for whatever sadistic thing that the Chimerian disciple had in mind. Rawn did as the madman demanded, then said, “Before we have done with this, Sabian, I have a last request.”

 

The corner of Sabian’s mouth turned up in a malevolent half-smile. “A last request for a man about to be executed? Perfect. I’m sure I can guess what it is you’d like to ask. Yes, I

anticipated that.” He called out to the ship’s computer, “Audio-visual link to the interior of

Escape Pod Beta.”

 

With a blossoming of light, a hologram appeared in the space between the Knight and his foe, showing the inside of the reprogrammed pod and Joanna rising to her feet in front of a

similar hologram where she was. Despair and longing and so many other feelings played across her face at the sight of her Knight.

 

“Rawn,” she called his name. “Rawn, don’t do this. You can’t. It’s not who you are. You don't surrender to monsters, Rawn; you fight them. You have to fight. Don’t just lay down your life to him. Resist him—please!”

 

“If I resist him, you know what he’ll do to you. As a Knight, I can’t let an innocent come to harm. Any innocent.”

 

“Rawn,” she said, “do you remember the things we talked about that day of the dragon games? Do you remember what I said about how important my principles are to me? Yours are just as important to you. Giving in to this man isn’t what you were meant to do; you know that. Fight him, Rawn. Just fight him.”

 

“Joanna,” he said, “I remember every word that has ever passed between us. And I hope that you remember what I’ve said to you about what you’ve meant to me, what you’ve done for me. I meant every word, my love. You are what healed me. You were my homecoming. You brought me back to myself. I sacrifice nothing but what you gave me again.”

 

Just one tear of all the tears she had held back now trailed down Joanna’s face. She shouted at him, “No, Rawn! NO!”

 

“Enough of this,” said Sabian cruelly. “Discontinue link.”

 

The hologram on the bridge disappeared, and Rawn felt those fading pixels take a piece of his heart with them.

 

“Now,” said Sabian across the few steps of space separating him and Rawn, “stand your ground and prepare yourself.”

 

Rawn did as he was bidden, the only concession that he would make to this creature, and watched Sewall Sabian undergo a transformation. His skin turned leathery, and its color turned to a noisome, sickly green, like the color of some foul regurgitation. His forearms and hands morphed and stretched into tentacles with barbed suckers like a terrestrial Kraken. A slit appeared on his forehead and opened into a single, glowing, red eye.

 

“Your death will be as quick as you let it be,” Sabian said, his voice turned to an inhuman rasp. “Offer no resistance, and you’ll be gone.”

 

Saying nothing, Rawn simply stood with legs apart and hands clenched into fists,

prepared to take the unholy punishment that the morphed creature before him would now

dispense. It came in an instant. Sabian lashed out with one monster tentacle. The leathery,

rubbery limb wrapped itself around one of Rawn’s arms. Unable to penetrate the armband around Rawn’s bicep, the vicious barbs dug themselves into Rawn’s exposed lower arm.

 

Rawn clenched his teeth and hissed as if he were in dragon form, suppressing a shout of pain. The other tendril came for him, twirling about and grasping Rawn’s other arm, digging in just the same. Rawn parted his teeth and let out only the smallest groan of the excruciating pain that was now doubled for him. His legs buckled only slightly. He had known pain in battle before and never faltered. He would not falter in the face of death now.

 

The red glow in Sabian’s third eye brightened, and from it leapt a scarlet beam of

radiance that seared through the air right past Rawn’s face and struck the bridge hatch behind him, making a crackling noise. Rawn struggled in Sabian’s grasp, hissing against the sharp pain from the barbs on the tentacles, and craned his neck backward to look at the smoking hole that the beam from Sabian’s eye had burned in the hatch. He then turned back to look at the sick,

perverse leer on his foe’s mutated face, and knew what would happen next.

 

“I put a good deal of thought into how I would destroy you, dragon,” Sabian said. “Be grateful that I chose the most satisfying but efficient method. Even so, I plan to enjoy it.”

 

The pain in his arms made his vision lose focus, but Rawn held firm in Sabian’s grasp, preparing himself. It shouldn't be long now.

 

Another scarlet beam flashed forth from Sabian’s third eye. It connected with Rawn's left shoulder and burned its way clean through. Now, Rawn could not suppress his reaction. He tossed back his head and bellowed out his pain. The damned sadist, how many times would he fire just to hurt him before finishing him off? A third beam pierced the air, then Rawn’s right shoulder, again lancing all the way through.

 

 This time, the combined pain of being shot through with lasers and constricted with barbed

tentacles nearly overcame Rawn. His entire body lurched and spasmed. His legs buckled, and he roared out his agony. The tentacles held him upright, inflicting a further, deeper pain. The

torment was now making Rawn dizzy. The bridge and the mutated features of Sabian spun in front of him.

 

“Now,” said the madman, “where to put the next shot? Through your skull? Your chest? Your stomach? I want your death to linger just a little but not too long.”

 

Held in Sabian’s monster grasp, Rawn gulped a breath of air, and through his mind crawled the thought, It must be now. Let it be now…

 

And on cue, the ship gave a sudden, jolting lurch, as if it were a building struck by an earthquake, and the lights on the bridge flickered out and then back on. Shocked, Sabian relaxed the grip of his tendrils on Rawn’s arms and let the wounded knight spill to the deck. Sabian looked to and fro on the bridge, uncomprehending what had just happened. Then, the lights flickered and the ship lurched again, making Sabian stagger to one side. He regained his footing and gazed down evilly at Rawn, who lay on the deck. “What is this? What’s happening? What have you done?”

 

Forcing himself up on one knee, ignoring the pain in his arms and shoulders and the blood trickling from the punctures on his skin, Rawn half-gasped, “You forbade me to fight back and attack you personally, but you said nothing about this old ship of yours. When I docked the Justice Claw, there was a code embedded in the communication from my ship’s computer to yours, a code that your ship’s systems are too old to recognize, and disguised and piggybacked to look like a part of the main transmission.

 

The code instructed your ship to set back Joanna’s escape pod to its default setting, to look for the nearest habitable planet in the system and take her back to Lacerta. Your ship has only just now recognized what’s been done to it, and your computer is fighting back, trying to overwrite the code. That code and your ship’s systems will keep trying to overwrite each other, but your ship’s systems will fail, and Joanna will get away. And now, there’s nothing to stop me from finishing you forever.”

 

“DAMN YOU!” Sabian bellowed, raising his tentacles and intensifying the glow in his third eye. “You WILL die!”

 

Rawn stood up with only a slight stagger. He released his human form and shifted to dragon, his wings and tail unfurling even as the transformation began to knit the wounds that

Sabian had inflicted. He drew forth his powerblade and let it extend its sword of energy, readying the weapon for battle. Rawn and Sabian circled each other while the lights on the bridge control panel flashed and fluctuated wildly from the battle raging inside the ship’s systems. His warrior discipline began to clear Rawn’s mind as the pain subsided. He felt as if his entire life was the preamble to these next few moments.

_______________

 

Picking herself up from the floor of the escape pod, Joanna wondered what was going on. What had rocked the ship and flickered the lights that way? The only answer was that something happening on the bridge had caused it. Rawn must have done something to Sabian’s ship. But what? And what would it mean to her?

 

No sooner had the question crossed her mind, than the hatch of the escape pod slid open. Joanna gasped. All she had to do was step through the open hatch and out into the corridor of the vessel, and she could find Rawn, perhaps even help him against Sabian before it was too late. She started for the hatch—and the moment she took a step forward, it slid shut again and she stopped in her tracks.

 

Joanna did not know what to do next. She pondered her next move, or pondered whether she even had one. That was when the lights flickered again and another hard, rude lurch of the pod and the ship enclosing it threw her back to the floor. She landed with a thump and looked up, frustrated and bewildered, into the flickering lights. Then, she looked at the hatch again. If he guessed right, by the time she got her feet under her again, it would slide back open. She scrambled upright, and sure enough, the hatch opened once more and sat that way, as if taunting her. She made another move for the hatch, and as she could have predicted, it quickly slammed shut yet again. She scowled at it, feeling toyed with and not liking the feeling.

 

Again, she wondered what to do. Would the ship just keep bucking and jolting and throwing her down, and would the hatch continue spontaneously opening and closing? What in the world had Rawn done?

 

She braced herself against the wall of the pod, and watched and waited. No further jolt and lurch came, no further tremor of the vessel to knock her down. But the lights continued their pattern of staying bright and constant, then going into a flicker. And each time they did, the yawning, taunting hatch of the escape pod drew itself back open and hammered itself back shut.

 

Joanna knew she was being faced with an opportunity—and a risk. An opportunity to get herself out of that pod, and a risk of what could happen if she did not get herself through the hatch quickly enough in her formal ball gown. Nothing much would happen, really. The hatch would close on her and either cut her in half or cut off her legs. Not too much to worry about, after all.

Accepting that there were worse things than taking a risk, especially now of all times, Joanna kept a determined eye on that hatch—and began to tear at the fabric of her gown halfway down her thighs.

_______________

 

On the bridge, the battle was joined. Rawn and Sabian were no longer circling one another. They were having at it.

 

Sabian lashed out at Rawn with his arm tentacles again. A serpentine tendril tried to clutch the wrist that held Rawn’s powerblade. With a slash, Rawn sent the blade slicing hotly through both the air and the appendage, sending a writhing length of Sabian’s tentacle to twitch at Rawn’s feet on the deck.

 

Sabian drew back his half-severed tendril while lunging out with the other, grabbing Rawn’s

other arm. The barbs on the suckers could not pierce the scaly flesh of Rawn’s dragon form as easily as his human skin. They grabbed but did not puncture, and Rawn made short work of that tendril as well, neatly cleaving it in two. While its severed part flailed on the deck, Sabian drew back both limbs, and Rawn saw that their sliced ends had already healed over and were starting to regenerate. He guessed that they would quickly return to their full, deadly length. But Sabian was not about to wait. The red flow of his third eye grew stronger, and Rawn changed his grip on the hilt of his weapon, anticipating his foe’s next attack and bringing the full speed of his trained warrior reflexes to bear.

 

At the same time, as the beam of glowing red deadliness stabbed out from Sabian’s eye, Rawn was ready. The energy blade of his weapon met the beam before it could strike Rawn, deflecting it in a burst of sparks. Sabian pressed his attack, firing off a shot from his eye every second, and never connected once with the dragon man. The glowing blade was everywhere, up and down, side to side, catching the rays before they could hit the Knight’s arms, head, torso, or wings. The speed and skill that had made Rawn Ullery the most renowned combatant in the Knighthood came fully into play, just as they had done all those years ago.

 

The disciple of the Chimerians quickly knew that battling Rawn this way was futile. The standoff could go on forever—or long enough for the damned Knight to get the upper hand. He opted to attack in a way that Rawn could not anticipate. With a regrown tentacle, he reached out, not for Rawn but for the chair at his control console. Using an inhuman strength, the tentacle pulled at the chair, and with a harsh sound of tearing metal, pulled it out of the floor. Rawn stopped swinging his blade long enough to look and react to what Sabian had done, and that gave his foe the opening he needed.

 

He flung the chair across the bridge and struck Rawn squarely in the chest, sending him flying and sprawling—and sending the powerblade whirling from his hand and onto the deck, where the energy sword retracted back into the hilt. Tentacles extended, Sabian lunged forward, and the first thing Rawn saw when he gazed up from the deck was the mutated man looming over him for the kill.

_______________

 

With the tatters of half her gown lying on the floor behind her and her high-heeled shoes in her hands, Joanna licked her lips, held her breath, and stood just a step away from the hatch. Why bother charging across the interior space of the pod and trying to leap through the hatch when she could just stand near enough to cross the threshold with one step? All she had to do was wait for the next flicker of lights and the next opening. There would be another opening, certainly. There had to be another opening.

 

Please, she begged the universe, let there be another opening.

 

It happened. The lights flickered, the hatch slid and hissed open, and Joanna moved. In a second, she bounded through the open hatch, and a second later, it slammed shut behind her. Out in the open corridor of the spacecraft, Joanna gave herself just a moment to let out a long,

relieved sigh. At least the immediate danger of being hurled into Catalan and being vaporized in its corona was over.

 

But there was no telling what danger yet awaited her when she found Rawn. Looking down at her hands clutching her shoes, she gave another sound that was almost a snort, and dropped them onto the deck of the ship, leaving them behind her as she sped off in her stocking feet.

_______________

 

One mutant tentacle closed itself around Rawn’s dragon neck. Its barbs still could not penetrate his scales, but its coils could still choke the life from him. The other tentacle snaked around his waist, holding him in another terrible and vicious squeeze. Rawn gasped for breath, and sparks of flame leapt from his fanged jaws.

 

“Yes, belch your fire!” Sabian screamed. “As if it will save you now!” And with the same inhuman strength that had torn his chair from its mooring, he hoisted Rawn bodily from the deck and held him up in the air. Rawn’s tail thrashed madly, trying to beat at his opponent who stood just out of reach. His wings pounded to no avail. With a malevolent shriek, Sabian hurled Rawn across the bridge and sent him crashing hard against a far bulkhead of the ship. The

dragon man clattered to the deck and lay there dazed and stunned.

 

Sabian pressed his advantage, leaping across the space between himself and Rawn. Standing over the Knight, he sneered, “My mistake was not simply pounding you into

submission before I took your worthless life! Let me correct myself…” And he raised a tentacle toward the bridge canopy above and brought it whooshing down onto Rawn’s head. It made a terrible, thumping smack and Rawn’s body lurched with the impact. Further stunned, the Knight looked up through eyes bleary with shock and pain at the oncoming blow of the other tentacle, which slammed him across the chest. Rawn flinched all over and made another fiery belch.

 

The rain of blows of Sabian’s flailing tendrils continued without let up, one after another after another. Rawn raised an arm to deflect the blow of one only to catch the other across the chest or the snout, or atop his head in front of his horns. The blows kept coming, and Rawn felt his world turning red. Fearing it would soon go to black, he knew he had just one chance.

 

His attacker was so intent on battering him senseless that he had left himself a vulnerable spot, and Rawn seized it at once. Slashing out with his tail as ferociously as Sabian with his arms, he wrapped his tail around one of Sabian’s ankles and gave a hard yank with all his dragon might. Shrieking, Sabian toppled onto his back and lay there prone with tentacles waving. One tendril caught Rawn around the waist and pulled him down, dragon face to mutant face.

 

“Thought you’d caught me?” Sabian raged. “You’ve just given me the perfect chance to pierce that dragon head of yours!” And Rawn realized he was right; Sabian was even now

lighting up his third eye to send a beam right into his skull at closer than point-blank range. There was only one thing to do. Rawn quickly grabbed Sabian by the head and twisted it hard to the left, right at the instant that the mutated man let fly with his killing beam. The energy bolt shot out and hit the bridge control panel, bringing forth a sparking geyser of shattered instrument parts. The ship shook again.

 

Rawn hissed, and Sabian bellowed furiously as the two foes started to roll and thrash back and forth on the deck of the bridge. Rawn’s tail coiled about Sabian’s leg while Sabian’s tendrils did the same around Rawn’s neck and arm, and they kicked at each other, tossing and rolling from side to side, each one vying for the upper hand—or limb.

 

Finally, fighting dirty again, Sabian turned his gaze down his own body to where Rawn’s tail enwrapped his leg, and fired from his eye. The beam seared onto Rawn’s tail with an awful scalding sound, and with a pained dragon roar, Rawn uncurled his tail from Sabian’s leg.

 

Sabian came up to a crouch over Rawn. “Now…I finish you. Your life ends now, boy.”

 

Rawn’s only answer was a last choking inhale with the mutation’s tendril crushing his neck—and an exhale of fire. A jet of flame shot from the dragon man’s jaws and expanded to a cloud of fire, right in Sabian’s face. Seared and shocked, Sabian released his grip on Rawn and staggered back, tentacles wiping at his face.

 

Rawn’s reprieve lasted only long enough for the Knight to clamber back to his feet. Sabian took his tentacles from the reddened green flesh of his mutated face and spat, “All the fire of Catalan itself will not save you from me!” Rawn braced himself. Sabian charged forward…and in mid-stride, he stopped and went into a spasm, staring down at his torso, through which the glowing length of Rawn’s powerblade now jutted.

 

Unable to speak, Sabian turned and looked behind him—at Joanna, who released the weapon with which she had impaled him and took a step back, fearing that Sabian would now turn the beam of his third eye on her.

 

Instead, Sabian dropped shuddering to the floor and did not move.

 

Rawn did move. He dashed and bounded nimbly around his fallen enemy, pausing just long enough to stoop down and pull his weapon from Sabian’s back and retract the blade, and bounded forward again to take Joanna into his dragon arms. “What are you doing here?” Rawn asked. “The escape pod was supposed to launch and take you to safety.”

 

“It must have had other ideas,” Joanna replied. “It just let me out.”

 

“The ship trying to overwrite the codes I sent it to release you must have worked

differently than I expected,” said Rawn. He reached into the pouch on the leg of his armor and pulled out Epaulette. He handed the device to Joanna. “Your AI will help you find the docking port where my ship is. Go there now and do not look back.”

 

“What about you?” Joanna asked. “I can’t go without you.”

 

The ship quaked yet again, and this time it felt harder than the last time. And all around them were sounds of things crackling ominously in the walls, as if something were trying to tear itself loose—or tear itself to pieces.

 

“Yes, you can and you must,” said Rawn. “I’ll catch up, and we’ll leave here. But I must do something first, and I don’t want you to see.”

 

Joanna protested, “But Rawn…”

 

In a voice harder and sharper than she had ever heard from him in either of his forms, Rawn demanded, “Do as I say, Joanna! Go NOW!”

 

She took herself solemnly, grimly, from his embrace and headed for the hatch of the bridge. She took one last fearful look at him before leaving.

 

Rawn spun around on his dragon heels and faced Sabian, lying on one side, his mutated body already starting to heal itself from Joanna’s attack. “Now, for you, monster,” the dragon said. “Now, I do as I should have done fifteen years ago.” He turned his powerblade on again, a gesture of warning that any shot from Sabian’s third eye would be instantly parried.

 

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” Sabian grimaced. “You and your Knightly chivalry and mercy, you would never do it.”

 

Rawn stepped closer to him. “I am a Knight of Lacerta,” he said. “Wherever there is evil, we strike it down. And one thing you should know, Sabian…” He stretched his dragon neck out closer to the fallen villain before he said:

 

“We are not always merciful.”

 

Rawn opened his dragon mouth all the way and breathed out hard. A massive, mighty torrent of flame came pouring out like a deluge, not of water but of fire. It cascaded blinding-hot onto Sewall Sabian where he lay, consuming every inch of his body, turning him to a blazing shape on the deck. Sabian’s form disappeared into the devouring glow of the dragon’s inferno. When the firelight partly subsided, he appeared as a melted heap in the flames. A terrible stench permeated the bridge, another thing that Rawn wanted to spare Joanna.

 

Looking up and around the bridge, Rawn realized that the ship’s extinguishers had not engaged. That was one reason he had hesitated to use his breath against Sabian to begin with; the extinguishers would have rendered his attack useless. And if the extinguishers were offline, he suspected what else might be happening to the ship’s systems even now.

 

Quickly, he went to the control panel through which he had made Sabian blast his beam. What he could make out from the displays told him that power surges were taking place all over the vessel because of that blast—surges that could end in only one way. He looked back at Sabian’s burning remains. Good, then; what was about to happen next would ensure that his job was complete. All that was left was to get himself and Joanna away in time. He broke into a run for the hatch off the bridge.

_____________

 

The docking that had secured the Justice Claw to Sabian’s ship had been jarred partly loose by the convulsions rocking the enemy’s craft, which was a fortunate break. It made it all the easier for the Justice Claw to pull its way free, pull back from Sabian’s vessel, and veer off back into space in the direction from which it had come.

 

At the cockpit, Rawn sat at the controls, then shifted back to human with Joanna at his side. “Display aft view,” he commanded, and the viewport imaging system changed the view from the stars ahead of them to the orbit of Catalan behind them, and the stricken craft quickly receding from sight. In a second, there was a flash, as if another smaller star had suddenly ignited in

Catalan’s orbit. It quickly dimmed, and what felt like a lifetime of tension drained from both Rawn and Joanna.

 

A moment of silence fell as the two of them processed what they had just been through and barely survived. Then, Rawn turned his beautifully masculine face to Joanna and asked, “Who taught you to use a powerblade?”

 

“No one,” Joanna admitted. “I just picked it up and went with my instinct.”

 

“You have very fine instincts,” he said. “Another thing that I love about you.”

 

Rawn kissed her long and hard, and Joanna wrapped her arms around him, accepting his kiss, as the Justice Claw sped back to Catalan.

 

*

 

Dame Sienna had not been idle after Rawn had sped off for his fateful encounter with Sewall Sabian. She had immediately ordered a top-security sweep of every building, living space, and other facility throughout the Spires, using the most powerful sensing technology available to the Knighthood, the Corps, and the Fleet. Before dawn rose that night, Spires security personnel had made a startling discovery in the private quarters of one lower-ranking Knight.

 

His small room was empty except for two piles of a melted, gelatinous protoplasmic substance, one of which showed chemical compounds of a Knight’s armor skin. The other was greenish and tested out as containing DNA markers similar to those of a grass dragon. Sabian’s operative in the Spires had apparently acted on orders to terminate himself and any other evidence of his

activities in the event that Sabian exposed himself or was found out, and the authorities were closing in on the agent.

 

For weeks to come, Knights of all ranks would express appalled dismay at the spy with suicide orders who had lurked in their midst. But at least the threat of another Chimerian incursion in Commonwealth space had been stopped before it started.

 

Sir Rawn Ullery would eventually receive—once again—the highest commendations for his valor against Sabian’s shocking return and the threat that he posed. At the same time, he would receive a formal censure from the Mentors’ disciplinary committee for his unilateral

actions, moving against a potential threat to the entire quadrant without official orders from the Spires.

 

When Dame Sienna pleaded his case, and her own part in what Rawn did, no further punitive measures were taken against Rawn, and the censure ultimately stood as a virtual footnote on his illustrious record. Once the news of what had happened with Sabian and how Rawn had flown to the rescue of Joanna Way was released, in fact, the quadrant would love him more than ever.

 

As for Joanna Way, when the time came to tell her story, she would be forthright and candid about all the circumstances surrounding her abduction by Sabian and rescue by Rawn, and her sharing a bed with the Knight whose story she had been assigned to cover became public knowledge.

 

While Rawn received nothing more severe than a hearing and a minor citation for his actions, Joanna’s breach of professional conduct would cost her a bit more. To save face before all the media of known space, the Terran News Service formally suspended her from all reporting duties and put her on leave with pay.

 

This would enable Joanna to extend her stay at the guest quarters near the Spires, which suited her perfectly well, as she had ample reason to remain on Lacerta—amply handsome, amply

muscular of build and hairy of chest, amply hung below the waist, and most amply aroused many times throughout the day and night.

 

Rawn’s commendation and censure and Joanna’s suspension, however, lay in the days ahead of them. Immediately upon their return to the Spires from their adventure in orbit of

Catalan, after Rawn made his debriefing statement to Sienna, the two of them retired to Rawn’s suite and took themselves to his bed. They were physically and emotionally exhausted from

everything that had happened to them, and for some time they simply lay in each other’s arms—Rawn lying naked in the custom of weredragon men—and plummeted quickly into sleep.

 

When they awoke, their feelings and desires soon took over. They had heard of revenge sex, makeup sex, and even grief sex, but now, Joanna and Rawn discovered a new kind of coupling: relief sex. With the thrusting of Rawn’s maleness and the burst of his seed inside her, they

released all the terror and pain of their battle with Rawn’s old foe, and lay relieved and temporarily spent on the sheets.

 

After a while, they lay like spoons, and Joanna promised herself that after nearly being thrown into the Sun, she would never again take for granted the feeling of Rawn’s arms around her and his half-erection nestling in the cleft of her buttocks. Dreamily, she said, “You know, Rawn, before long, your counseling period will be over, especially since you just showed how well you can still handle yourself, and they’ll put you back on full duty.”

 

“Yes, they will,” Rawn replied, kissing and licking her shoulder, making her tingle with the thought of what else he wanted to do to her.

 

“And I’ll have to go back to work too, though I don’t know at what, since sleeping with you hasn’t done any favors for my reputation as a mediate. I was thinking maybe I’d settle down here on Lacerta, if not with the Terran News Service, then with some other media service. I should be able to get work somewhere, don’t you think?”

 

“Absolutely,” he said, teasing her nipple and making her grow moist again down below.

 

“We’ll want to stay on the same planet, after all,” Joanna pointed out.

 

Rawn moved the hand that teased her nipple down her body and rustled his fingers in her muff, making her grow even wetter. “I absolutely want us on the same planet,” he replied. “And in the same bed.”

 

Joanna moved onto her back, and her lips met his. Rawn put himself back on top of her and slipped his man-dragon deep into her treasure place. And Joanna rejoiced under him as the conquering hero claimed what would always be his.

 

THANKS FOR READING!

I really hope you enjoyed RAWN. Remember, the other books in the Dragons Of The Universe series are:

Book 1 – THRAX

AWN

ORAM

 

Go check them out and collect the whole series!

 

Otherwise, add your email to the to be the first to know when it is released!

 

Bonnie x x

 

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