Self analysis

Everything on the ship suggested that it was Halloween, from the garlands that hanged in every hall to the rooms that hid false skeletons that would unerringly fall in their faces were they to open them. They all had been caught by it once, even Harper, who was the brain behind the outfit. The best part, according to him, was the command deck and the main party room where pumpkins shone the light with candles. Others would disagree and think their disguises celebrated this holiday best.

Beka had opted for the traditional witch; Harper had made the witty remark that she didn't need a long hat and a false nose to play that role. Tyr had settled for a vampire costume; however, because his red cape was a bit too small and had come with a hood, he was soon given the name of little red riding hood. Sharp teeth and a long beard completed his costume, making him look like the big bad wolf. Harper and Beka were the only ones who knew enough about history to notice and, none dared mention it.

While Harper had picked up a Magog mask and suit, Rev Bem had chosen to take a human mask and a tie. They claimed not to have consulted each other before choosing. Rommie had always been against the idea (she didn't like the fact that her warship would look like a dumpsite and doubted Dylon would appreciate it) had dressed as a white flag. Everyone thought it was a waste of her physique, but she explained it that way.

"As a warship, I always have to be at war and can never surrender; I see this holiday as an opportunity to be somebody else, and to wave a white flag was the way to surrender in the old days."

Rommie, Trance, Harper, and Beka were all on the command deck. Andromeda sensors were raking space, searching for a specific ship while her avatar was pacing the deck back and forth, clearly in worry.

"Anything?" Beka inquired, visibly annoyed by Rommie's distraught.

"No!" Rommie exclaimed. "And that doesn't make any sense. Dylan is three hours late since I've known him that never happened. And that can only mean one thing; he's in big trouble."

Beka raised her eyebrows and shook her head skeptically; she had learned over the years of working with Hunt that punctuality wasn't exactly one of his qualities. He was more the type to save the day at the last minute.

"I'm sure he is fine," Beka assured.

Rommie's expression reflected doubt.

"What could take him so long? All he had to do was to take the present from the gifters to concretize the alliance with the commonwealth and come back home."

"I don't know," Harper jumped in, "but princess Harbora was kind of a knockout, and I saw her ogle at Dylan more than once. Why else would she have insisted on giving her gift only to Dylan."

"I thought it wasn't ready, which is why we went to deliver food and medication to the Corpions."

Harper gave an air that said: You believed that?

"Don't tell me; mister Harper was upset about this impromptu Rendez-vous between the two," Beka needled.

"Hey! At first, I was mad like anyone would be. I mean, all Dylan has to do is stand there, and all the women fall in his hands. But then hey! I realized it was the perfect opportunity to set up my mega party."

" It's your list of guests; I am impressed with," Beka said.

"Count yourself lucky you are on it," Harper retorted. " I must admit that if I had a bit more time, I would have-"

" I saw your list," Beka cut in, " strangely enough, they all came from the same profession. She made a few moves that revealed to everyone: exotic dancers.

"Which I knew Dylon would have never accepted; that's why I smuggled the second-best thing. Have you ever seen that much exquisite food, and don't forget the wine of Portos. But now, I wish I would have smuggled other things."

" How nice of you, Harper, to have prepared a surprise party for Dylan, and while he's gone missing, all you can think of is your stomach and-"

Rommie was interrupted by a loud rumble from Harper's stomach; it didn't seem to appreciate being criticized while it only wished to sustain a body.

The others shook their head in amusement, for it wasn't the first time today, Harper's stomach had expressed its opinion.

" I starved myself all day so that I could gorge myself with all those delicacies; a bottle of three-hundred-year-old champagne, how long am I supposed to resist?" Harper pointed out. "And I bet that our special guest is having a wonderful time while we are all cramped here, undernourished, waiting for him to show up," Harper sighed in distress.

They were all startled by a holiday whistler that Tyr had blown as he had entered the command deck; Rev Bem followed him. Neither looked as if they were having fun.

" Was I misinformed, or are we having a surprise party?" Tyr said.

" We were waiting for you in the party room, Rev said.

" We're worried about Dylan," Beka explained.

Tyr's eyebrows raised as to say: not him again!

" Which when you think about it, the maxim for Halloween, trick or treat, it makes perfect sense. Dylan chose the first one," Harper said bitterly.

" I thought Dylan didn't know about all this," Tyr said.

" Honestly, with him, how can we know; it's like he has telepathic antennae or something."

" Or there's a rat," Tyr said.

" Even if I knew, I don't see why he would want to avoid it," Beka said. " I mean, at his place, I'd touch me."

" I find these decorations scary and the whole atmosphere spooky," Trance said.

" Hey! That's the point of Halloween; I should get points for that." Harper mentioned.

" Could we stop talking about such trivial things and start to worry about Dylan," Rommie said.

" I'm sure he's fine, giving lessons to princess Harbora on how to have fun in the commonwealth," Tyr said.

" I told you so," Harper said.

" He'll probably knock on our door any time now; Dylan is a big boy. He can take care of himself." Beka added.

" I don't know what the great divine has in store for Dylan," Rev Bem said in his usual philosophical tone, " but I know what the future holds for us." He showed two bottles of champagne.

The sight of alcoholic beverages was enough to calm down everyone, even Rommie, who had to admit she was a bit overreacting. The truth was she wasn't used to being separated from her captain for so long; she was feeling her own anxiety, not a bad omen on Dylan's fate.

" You know Rev; I like you in this disguise!" Harper told the Magog.

" And I in yours," Rev replied.

Harper wasn't sure about the meaning of that, but he was here to have fun and scuttled to the party room.

" Are you coming?" Beka asked Rommie. She was still hesitant; she couldn't shake the idea that having fun meant betraying Dylan.

" I guess I can have one drink. Dylan was out on a peace mission. He must have voluntarily extended his mandate. He's fine and enjoying himself."

" And so should you," Beka said.

Back on Glacione, due to the penetrating cold, rime was building on Dylan's eyelids, forcing him extensively to blink before he could open his eyes. His vision blurred for an instant, and any image of Rhade disappeared with it. His focus returned, and his once best friend observed him, a slight smile on his face.

" Of all people, you're the last one I expected to drop from the sky," Rhade said.

" Same here," Dylan answered.

His resentment due to Rhade's treason was put on suspension; he was the one in a dreadful position, and it would be stupid to spit on his help if help was his goal because Dylan didn't trust him one bit. He was glad to notice that Rhade didn't look in top shape; he had a lean and tired face; this couldn't be his first day on this doomed planet. He had one significant advantage over him, hot clothes. Dylan wasn't about to let him keep that one for long.

His eyes locked with that potential enemy as he took a step backward. He was too close to turn his back on him to reach the ship; his foot hit a patch of ice, and he found himself in the snow, sapping on the too little heat that was left in his body.

Rhade seemed amused by this act of clumsiness; he stood there, watching Dylan dazed by the shock. He offered his hand, Dylan refused.

" I can get up on my own," Dylan's eyes sparkled with hate. They were reflecting one word: Traitor! No matter how hard he tried to put the past behind him, he now realized it was impossible. What Rhade had done was unforgivable and soiled any potential relationship between them. " And before I talk to you again, you'd better tell me where you come from? What you're doing here, and how come you're still alive?"

Dylan had only managed to sit up; he acted as if that was his plan all along. The truth was he had the sensation his body was generating cold instead of heat, and all he could think of was to make a fire. In the face of Rhade, he kept a stoic air, for he lived by one rule, never show to anyone your weaknesses.

"Glad to see you too," Rhade said, not the least impressed by Dylan's showdown. His Nietzschean superior vision was perfectly able to detect fake from real strength, and right now, Hunt should be in bed drinking hot soup, certainly not playing the tough guy.

"Don't you think we should take care of this, first?" the Nietzschean suggested. He was pointing at Dylan's stomach.

Hunt was ready to blame it on sorcery when he saw the ten centimeters long metal bar protruding. What else than a magic trick could have brought back his wound, only ten times worse? His hands trembling, he touched his back, he sensed the other hand of the bar. It couldn't be; he already had taken care of it! Oddly enough, Dylan's body became moist; it was a cold sweat.

" I had pulled it out already!" he said as if God would hear and repair that injustice.

" You must have dreamed or imagined you did because it is still there," Rhade answered.

Dylan gave him a murderous stare. Somehow it had to be Rhade's fault. Slowly, he put his swollen and trembling hands on the metal piece and began to pull.

Rhade shook his head in disapproval; that was not the way to do it. "Continue like that, and it will have time to freeze inside of you," he said condescendingly. He didn't ask for Dylan's permission, and with the velocity of a snake, he gripped the metallic bar and pulled it out.

No matter how much Dylan cared for his heroic image, he couldn't help but scream his lungs out. He nearly passed out and would have preferred to with what came next.

The interior of his stomach was on fire, and he could feel the blaze consuming his flesh. He had no way to stop the torture, he wasn't the one imposing it, and it drove him crazy. It was Rhade who had cauterized his wound. It was for the best, but Dylan could take care of himself.

Then, Rhade's face loomed before him, and he felt carried into the ship. Even though he knew by whom, he had no strength to fight back.

Dylan's mind rose to consciousness with throbbing pains. He sensed a heat source, and as much as he appreciated it, it increased the pulsating pain by unfreezing his frostbites. Enveloped with warm clothes he didn't remember putting on, around a fire he didn't recall starting, Dylan forced his memory to explain his situation. All he came with was a blank and a sense of danger. Someone was here, someone who could mean him harm.

He jumpstarted as he saw an object thrown into the fire; the intruder was closer than he expected. He became infuriated when he recognized what Rhade had fed the fire with, bags of rations, his rations.

"Already awake."

Dylan immediately recognized Rhade's voice, and the recent events returned to him. "What do you think you are doing?"

Rhade didn't answer right away; it was evident and a waste of saliva from Dylan to even ask. It seemed Dylan needed a reminder.

"Keeping us warm."

" I can see that," Dylan assured." But with my provisions?"

"Unless you like carbonized rations, I don't see any other purpose for them."

" You mean there's none left?"

"While you were in Wonderland, I had time to explore the wreck, all the food's carbonized." He threw it in the fire again.

" What about the water?"

" All the water reserved was spilled."

" Well, that's not so bad, ( Dylan picked up a snowball); we have an unlimited supply right here. The bad news is the ship condition; I don't think even Harper could repair it. Beka will have my ass."

" Wrong again," the Nietzschean said a bit somberly. He made a snowball. "That's not water but poison."

" The snow is contaminated."

The Nietzschean nodded in assent.

Dylan's face lost a few colors as he realized he was in a more precarious situation than he had first assumed.

" My crew will find me and rescue me before I feel the effect of thirst," Dylan said in confidence.

"They know you are here?" Rhade asked, his tone underlying he already knew the answer.

Dylan's face crisped as it dawned on him that his predicament was getting worse by the minute. A headache grew as he wondered what was next.