"This isn't working," yelled Sanford, the first violinist. He wasn't playing anymore, and the rest of the orchestra quickly followed his example.

"But it's perfect!" Clementine protested. "It's the New World Symphony. We're literally going to a new world! We've got woodwinds now, and violas." She gestured to the English horn player, bassoonist, and handful of violists who had joined over the past couple weeks. "I'm sure more will come if we spread the word and show everyone we're serious."

"No, Sanford's right," said Tian, his Texas accent making his last word sound like rat. "This piece needs more weight than we can give it. We need a timpani."

"Inlan said he's working on it," Clementine insisted. "We have to give him time. He can't abandon all of his duties on a moment's notice."

A heavy silence filled the large space, awkward and full of words that had been spoken the day Clementine came bouncing into rehearsal with what she thought was amazing news. She'd anticipated a little pushback about working with a Relican, but musicians are generally a progressive bunch, so she was shocked when almost half of the orchestra threatened to quit over it. And she wasn't sure how to react when many said they objected not because of Inlan himself, but over fear of reprisal from anti-Relican groups; at least they weren't prejudiced, but were they really going to let terrorists come between them and their music?

Clementine had stood firm, insisting that her orchestra was open to any serious musician who wanted to join. In the end they'd only lost a clique of violinists, but plenty of the group was still wary, and she feared that if Inlan did join them, the atmosphere would be less than welcoming.

Gary, a trumpeter who'd been there from the start, broke the silence. "It's been over two weeks, Clem," he said gently. "Maybe we should start working on something else."

"We can't give up on Dvorak!" she said. "If it doesn't work out with Inlan, we can still keep looking for an actual timpanist. There has to be someone who was crazy enough to bring one on board. We'll go door to door if we have to."

Nobody looked convinced, or willing to scour the cart for the single person who was willing to sacrifice their three suitcases for three big drums.

"How about that piece you wrote -- the concerto you brought in last week?" Sanford wiggled his gray eyebrows above his rimless glasses. "It was a lot of fun."

A bunch of the group chuckled and agreed, but she shook her head. "We don't need fun. We need grand, powerful, inspiring -- something to unite humanity. We need Dvorak."

Movement at the back of the auditorium caught her attention, and Clementine's stomach folded in on itself when she recognized Zack stepping through one of the transport doors. She'd barely seen him since the day of the rally, and the few times he was home, he stayed in his room.

Standing up, Clementine addressed the orchestra. "I'll see what I can do with my concerto, but can we agree to keep working on the Dvorak? At least until we hear back from Inlan?"

After reaching a tacit agreement, they started packing up. As Clementine put her music away, Sanford walked over.

"I mean it about that concerto," he said, scratching his back with his violin bow. "There's a real work of art in there begging to be let free."

When Sanford had first appeared, his fuzzy gray hair, small stature, and soft voice had made Clementine think he was a weak old man who she was going to have to kick out before he brought the whole orchestra down. But almost immediately he'd proven to be the best musician there. He wouldn't admit it, but she was pretty sure he had been with the Chicago Symphony.

"I think you're holding out on me," she said with a smile. "I think you know where there's a timpanist, but you just want to take it easy in your old age."

Sanford squinted at her, then lifted his violin into position. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath, then ripped his bow down the strings in the first chord of the fast-paced scherzo from the New World Symphony. His fingers bounced effortlessly on the strings, his bow gliding back and forth with a smooth fluidity that none of Clementine's teachers could have matched. Body swaying and undulating with the music, he sang the main theme of the movement with his instrument's voice. The fierce, intense bursts of sound lifted Clementine up, filling her with a breathless joy.

With one last graceful sweep of his arm, the music was over. He opened his smiling eyes at her. The entire orchestra was transfixed, still watching him even though he was no longer playing.

"Touchè," said Clementine, after she found her voice again. She gave him a soft golf clap and a quick hug before picking up Daisy's case and heading towards the edge of the stage. "See you Friday," she called over her shoulder to him, "with your timpanist."

She headed up the aisle towards Zack, who was still hanging by the transport door. A few other musicians stood chatting nearby, waiting for those who were going to the same station.

"Where's your dad?" she asked. Since that first day, Mr. Crayden had been meeting her at the tunnels station and walking her home.

Zack glanced at the small group beside them and said, "He couldn't make it."

"Has anyone called the transport yet?" called Lupita, the new English horn player, coming up the aisle with a bunch of the musicians.

Clementine reached for the black panel, but Zack nodded at the emptying stage and said, "Show me round?"

A flash of heat flared inside her, but she kept her smile tepid as she said, "Sure." Leading Zack to the middle of the now empty stage, she waved to the large semi-circle of chairs and said, "This is where the magic happens."

He stood close to her, but she told herself he was merely trying to hear her better. Even though everyone else was in the aisles or by one of the three transport doors, the acoustics in the hall filled the space with their voices. She pointed to each section and listed the instruments that sat there.

"Violins -- we've got eleven firsts and nine seconds now, so a real section, and more than enough for the Dvorak; woodwinds, including a pretty decent clarinetist who started yesterday; if we had any percussion whatsoever it would be back there."

She paused, turning back to him. "You don't know anyone who brought a timpani, do you?"

His eyes stayed serious, but the corner of his lips did its little twitch again. Was it always the left side?

"I don't know what that is," he said.

"Worth a shot," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, back there are the brass -- trumpet, trombone, even a few French horns; and then the upright bass -- we still only have one of those: Tian, the Asian Texan, as he calls himself."

She moved to stand behind the seat closest to the front of the stage, directly opposite Sanford's. Most of the musicians were gone, with the last group boarding their transport, so the din of conversation had quieted to a soft murmur. "This is my spot. First I was the only cello, and I'm still principal, but that's pretty much only because I started the group; the other two who joined play about as well as me. If someone better comes along, I'll have to step aside."

Zack took a few steps in her direction, but he was studying the space around them, not looking at her. She did the same, taking in the auditorium she'd been spending so much time in. The rectangular hall resembled any back on Earth, with a raised stage and even a small backstage area. But instead of individual seats for the audience, there were long rows of wide cushioned benches that were so high off the ground that even Gary, who was over six feet tall, couldn't reach the floor when he sat on them.

This was the only structure in the tunnels Clementine had seen that wasn't completely encased in metal. The walls, ceiling, and floor were a pale stone similar to marble, but with thin veins of silver, red, and blue crystal threading organically through it. The stage they were standing on was constructed of planks of nearly black wood that wasn't painted or stained, but still had a purple tint.

"It's a beautiful space." Taking a deep breath, she added, "Have you noticed how fresh the air is down here? It doesn't feel like we're underground at all. Not even the transports are musty or moldy. They must have a really amazing air circulation --"

He stepped right in front of her, blocking the view of the auditorium. The vast space was now silent, with the last of the musicians gone.

His hand, surprisingly hot on her skin, wrapped around her wrist as he stared down at her. It would have been romantic, if it weren't for the curious blend of fear, determination, and something akin to panic in his eyes.

"Zack?"

He glanced over her head, and froze. "What's that?" he asked.

Following his gaze, she saw a distortion in the air back where the percussion was supposed to be. It looked kind of smoky, and for an instant she feared there was a fire, but it wasn't rising upwards. The air itself was thickening and stretching, and it took another few moments for her to recognize what was happening.

"It looks like someone's conveying," she said, moving closer.

"Stay back," Zack said, grabbing her arm again and tugging her towards the edge of the stage.

"It's probably just a Relican coming down for maintenance or something," she said, resisting his pull. A shape was coming into focus. Clementine could barely make out the fuzzy outline of a goldish head, shoulders, and arms, but there was something else. Something big and gray in front of him.

"Come on," said Zack, his grip tightening.

"Chill out," she said, jerking her arm free. "If there's something up with the space, I need to know so I can tell the others."

She looked back at the swirling air, now almost completely solid. It was definitely a Relican. But he wasn't gold, he was bronze.

"Inlan!"

He could hear his name, but he couldn't open his eyes yet. Nor could he smile, though the jubilation in Clementine's voice made him want to.

"It's Inlan!"

Never had he wanted so badly for conveyance to end. Finally his chest began to rise and fall. His finger twitched. His eyes opened.

Clementine stood directly in front of him, hardly a few feet away. The radiant smile he had heard in her voice wasn't directed at him, however. She was staring at the nubla.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" she said, stepping closer.

"Fair sparking," he managed to say. It was strange being so close to her. Seeing her on the sightscreen had been like watching one of the Earthan presentation waves. But having her right beside him, near enough to touch, to smell the bouquet of scents that enveloped her, made him feel like he was dreaming. He pressed his hands against his sides, resisting the urge to take off his glove and cup his palm around the back of her neck.

She gave him a startled look. "You're speaking English!"

His internal translator was still working, so he could understand her perfectly. It took him a few moments to formulate his response though.

"I study English. English is big language to Earth." He cringed. He must sound like sludge. He'd started playing around with the language when Tierney was aboard, but only since speaking with Clementine had he spent any real time studying it.

"It is one of the dominant languages on Earth," she said with a smile. He caught the corrections and appreciated her subtlety.

Looking back at the instrument, she said, "I was about to leave. I would have missed this!"

She punched him playfully on the arm before bending over and examining the nubla. It was so much like what Lutari would have done, he had to stop himself from reciprocating.

She's not Lutari, he reminded himself. She's a fragile Earthan.

"What are you doing here?" asked another voice.

Inlan tore his gaze from Clementine and noticed for the first time that someone else was in the auditorium with them. A male, all of his clothes matching his black hair, was approaching them. His eyes swung suspiciously back and forth from Inlan to Clementine.

"Zack, this is Inlan," she said. "He's joining our orchestra." She paused her inspection of the andat skin and looked up at him. "Right?"

Despite her bubbly response -- or perhaps because of it -- the male glared at him with even more hostility, positioning himself right next to her on the other side of the drum and crossing his arms. He was approximately the same age as her but closer to Inlan's own height, though still several inches shorter.

Inlan turned on his translator. "It's still not completely approved, unfortunately."

"Then why are you here?" demanded Zack.

Bronze Relicans were not only known for their heightened libido, but for their aggressive natures as well, and Inlan had always prided himself on avoiding both of these stereotypical traits. He considered it a compliment whenever he heard Lutari say, "He's bronze, but he doesn't act like it." He was a trained member of the elite Relican Squad. He was a scientist. He was disciplined, mature, and above silly displays of machismo.

Sensible, strategic displays of machismo, however...

Crouching down, he wrapped his arms around the stone drum and lifted it easily off the ground.

Clementine and Zack staggered back. "Woah!" she said with a laugh. "How much does that thing weigh?"

"Only eight slabs," he said. The fact that he had to access his mechasuit strength enhancement to lift it detracted only slightly from his enjoyment of Zack's shocked expression. "That's 800 of your pounds."

"Holy crap," said Clementine. "That's a lot more than a timpani."

"I'm leaving it with you," he said, "in case someone wants to try practicing with it while I wait for my clearance. Where do you want it?"

"Actually, right there is perfect," she said, gesturing to where it had been. He lowered it back to the floor.

"You saw me play it," he said. "It's tough as nails..." He paused to gauge her reaction. Had he used the saying properly? When she didn't laugh, he guessed he had, and wished Lutari were there to see him be right for once. "...so almost anything goes. Don't touch these, though." He pointed to the tuning pegs that kept the andat skin in place. "If the membrane loosens, or you want a different pitch, let me know and we'll schedule a time for me to come down and make adjustments. Andat skin is remarkably durable when it comes to blunt impact, but it's sensitive to lateral pressure and will tear easily if these aren't balanced correctly."

"Got it," she said. "How much longer until you hear back on whether you can join? None of us have been able to find any percussionists at all. I blame Tierney -- she should have known to assign a full orchestra complement to my sector."

The comment was directed at Zack, but Inlan said, "Oh, right! You're Tierney Dawson's sister."

Clementine closed her eyes and gave what looked like a defeated smile before responding. "That's me."

"That's so great! She's really nice."

"You know her?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's not the same without her. I miss her a lot." The words tumbled out before he knew he was even thinking them. A chill rushed into his face and he knew he was in danger of blushing, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind to try and erase his confession. "You two don't look anything alike."

"Yeah, I know," she said, clearly not pleased with his remark. Inlan tried to think of something else to say, anything to bring her vibrant smile back, but she spoke first.

"How do you know Tierney?"

"She was on my vessel."

"You're on the Irral? The same ship Tausson was on?"

There was the smile. But the fact that it was Tausson's name that conjured it made Inlan regret bringing up the subject in the first place.

"We should get going," Zack said, scowling at Inlan and taking Clementine's hand in his own. She looked down at it with surprise, but didn't let go.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "So how long until you know whether you can join?" The question was clearly directed at Inlan, but she was staring longingly at the nubla.

"I'm not certain. After the breach of protocol between Tierney and Tausson, personal contact between Earthans and Relicans is being strictly monitored. They haven't even brought any Asteroid Mate candidates on board yet. I was only allowed to convey this here because you said your rehearsal ends at 2:00. I didn't think anyone would be here."

A sudden weariness passed over him, and he couldn't stifle his yawn.

"Oh yeah," said Clementine. "Isn't it nighttime right now on your ship?"

"Technically it's sparking -- a little past judzu, to be exact. But yes, I'd ordinarily be sleeping right now."

"Judzu?"

Inlan smiled at her awkward pronunciation of the Relican word, but before he could translate, Zack tugged on her hand and said. "Come on, Clem."

"Okay, okay," she said, allowing herself to be pulled away. "I'll keep looking for a percussionist, but it will only be for show. I'm expecting you in place, mallets at the ready, within two weeks. Got that?"

Returning her smile, he said, "I will do my best to meet your expectations." He entered the conveyance command into his mechasuit and prepared to return to the Irral.

"See you in two weeks," she called, "and good luck with your English."

"Bye," he replied, missing her nearness. He reminded himself once again that he was a proud and honored member of the Relican Squad, savior of his people, and father of not one but two sets of twins. But even with those accomplishments, he couldn't deny the part of him that wished he could simply be a young Earthan man, dressed all in black, holding her hand.