In the van with Ronnie were Dolores, the 2 officers, one of whom drove, as well as a yet unseen doctor accompanying their ill passenger. Most of the rear section of the van remained invisible to someone setting by either door of the second row of seating, blocked by short intruding walls behind the seats. Ronnie occupied the right window seat in this row.

A hundred questions swirled through her mind, all jumbled up into a question-ball that reshaped and reshuffled with every new question. As a result, her mind was unable to fashion any question vocally in that moment.

Dolores and the officers were busy concentrating on their escape route out of town, trying to avoid a route that would cross paths with the ‘two black Suburbans’ reported by the chief to be entering their town.

‘Black Suburbans?’ Ronnie pondered the significance of this statement. Why would people know the meaning of this… warning? Her mind raced off, suddenly thinking on the countless movies where secret government officials inevitably drove black Suburbans. “Surely this is a stereotype, right?” her mind immediately evaluated and formed judgement on this new information. Her stomach sank with the suspicion there was more than stereotype in this particular instance.

The vehicle radio chose to speak in that moment, once again pulling Ronnie out of the first extended thought since this madness began 15 minutes before. The chief was on, casually stating a need to take the afternoon off and go fishing. “Huh?” Ronnie thought, as her annoyance and fear grew. “Fifteen minutes ago he near screamed for the officers to get away from the hospital, and now he is going fishing?”

Dolores chose that moment to turn and face back toward Ronnie, her face a mirror of how Ronnie felt inside. Ronnie sensed Dolores was troubled and struggling to find the right words, searching the words out in the way Ronnie searched for answers. Ronnie could stand it no longer. “Will someone please tell me what is happening here?”

Dolores sighed and then spoke. “I cannot share such information yet, Ronnie. You are going to have to leave once everyone is safe at our destination. You need to leave to get back to your children, and you will need to take your children into hiding as well. We… will help you with this.”

“Why in hell do I need to hide my children? What the fuck is happening here? Are the lot of you daft? I’m going to climb out back and see my husband!” Ronnie was approaching her breaking point, beyond which she would not cooperate. While the urge to climb over the seat was strong, she remained unmoving.

“I can only tell you that… Tim… is a person of interest to those well beyond our lives, Ronnie. Well beyond our lives and well up the power pyramid in this nation, perhaps well beyond. Yesterday, something happened in my office. I assume you were there earlier today. If so, you saw the broken window, the overturned chair and table, as well as the broken lamp. Others rushed in when these things happened, and they saw… they witnessed almost everything. When people see, they talk – before they realise the consequences of their talking. It did not take long for this talk to disseminate to… parties with a strong interest, and sure enough, some are apparently here to snoop around.

When they do start snooping, it is just a matter of time before they start smelling substance. The substance found will lead them to expand their search, looking for your family, my family, and anyone else they associate with possible interest and involvement and which might lead them to what they wish to find.

They will likely call more resources into play. We cannot allow them to get their hands on your children, because like… Tim… your children will be of intense interest to these people, probably of equal interest.

Ronnie, you have to trust me on this!” Dolores was asking the impossible of Ronnie.

“Dolores, you mention substance, you mention interest in our daughters, yet you refuse to tell me why. Why in bloody hell would they come after our children?” Ronnie grew increasingly pissed as she talked, the involvement of her children pushing her in that direction. “They have no psychological issues. They have done nothing. You expect me to believe this cockamamie story, something no one else would believe, on your say so. That… is ridiculous!”

Ronnie realised she was giving way to anger, took a deep breath to reset, and then continued. “You need to trust me if you wish me to be on board with the urgency and necessity of what you are doing. Right now, I half believe you are a bunch of lunatics gone off the deep end, but then I see two police officers in this vehicle, supposedly there is a doctor in the back… but the police chief just said he is going fishing. You act as if the world is ending; moments ago, he acted as if the world was ending, yet now he is going fishing. Would this make one shred of sense to you, if you were I? Ronnie rested there, knowing her question would be hard to answer.

“To be honest, Ronnie, if we switched roles, I’d be saying what you just said. I would probably believe not a word of it, and the only reason I do now is due to being a first hand witness to the triggering event. The police chief is going fishing as a cover, to show nothing is untoward and amiss in the town – we pre-planned this action earlier today, contingent upon an imminent threat.

Tim is in danger, Ronnie. Your girls are in danger. You are in danger, because you are the key to finding all three. Once we reach our destination, we will have one of officers take you to my car – you cannot drive your car now, they will look for it, but it will be a couple of days before they start looking for mine. You will need to get your mom to meet you some place she will know by something other than its actual name, in case they are listening.

Once you have your children with you, we need to come up with a place that is safe for you to go to and stay for an extended time. It cannot be any place connected to your family; eventually they will follow those trails.

I know so little at this point, just that I saw what happened – and by the way, three video cameras from three different directions and perspectives captured what happened. The producer and his two staffers are already in hiding at our destination. Those tapes will be second only to your family in desirability to those after us.” Dolores was feeling ill in trying to argue the inarguable.

“So something happened to Tim then?” Ronnie asked, her voice carrying a more resigned feel.

“Yes, Ronnie, but Tim is not in danger of dying,” proved to be the only response Dolores was capable of giving in the moment.

Ronnie changed the subject, trying another approach. “Dolores, are you aware of the strange sounds Tim has made during his nightmares?”

“What do you mean?” Dolores pulled a puzzled face, looking to get more information, rather than share more information.

“The same words keep repeating… well, I think of them as words, because they sound the same.” Ronnie volunteered some of what she knew in hopes Dolores would reciprocate.

“Do you recall the sounds now?” Dolores urged Ronnie to continue.

“Yes.” Ronnie answered. At least she was talking on a subject she had limited knowledge of, instead of being completely ignorant.

“It sounds like ‘ooch na jar of hay!” except he screams it with what seems to be great angst or horror. I have listened to the tape repeatedly, and the ‘jar of hay,’ or perhaps ’jar a hay’ is somewhat clear. The ‘ooch na’ part is said funny, sort of with a tongue clicking action I cannot replicate, and the whole thing is as if Tim is receiving someone else’s thoughts and experiences. I have never believed in the supernatural – I’m an atheist - but believe me this makes me wonder.”

Dolores felt her back turn to ice at hearing what Ronnie shared; icy tentacles shot out towards and through the rest of her body. There were two triggering nuggets in Ronnie’s statement: the simple word tape and the more difficult ooch na jar a hay.

‘Deflect on one hand,’ Dolores thought out her immediate course of action, ‘while acting on the other.’

“Ronnie, where is this tape?” she reasonably asked, her insides roiling while she masked her words in calm.

“It is on my kitchen table in the portable tape player. Why?”

“We will leave immediately for the southern part of the states once we drop off the others. When we arrive at this first stop, you are not to leave this van, do you understand? You will wait for me to climb back in, and then we are going to get my car, take it southward, meet your mom, get that tape – your mom should make certain to bring the tape with her, that tape is yet another key – and get all of you to safety. That will include your mom. Understood?” Dolores had no time for pleading - it was time to act, before her car became of interest. The lives of too many were in her trembling hands.

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Moments before, Ronnie and Tim left Susan Woodward’s hospital room, one they initially entered with trepidation, fearful of the backlash from Tim driving drunk and seriously injuring Susan – an injury resulting in her hospitalisation.

Instead of facing the expected wrath, Susan chose to speak of forgiveness, of love and light, and actually asked if the Salstons wished to get together after the hospital released her from care – she was concerned about Tim’s well being. Both Ronnie and Tim found Susan very personable and sincere, and readily accepted her invitation. The plan called for Ronnie and Tim to bring dinner to Susan’s house on the following Saturday.

For his part, Tim felt another lesson just passed his way, and he intended to grasp and hold onto this lesson for dear life. “Ronnie, there are days when I feel things I once accepted as givens have morphed into uncertainties or unknowns. My entire outlook is in play, or perhaps is in the process of reshaping. I am resorting what is important, looking for what should guide me. Lately, I have felt so very lost, almost stripped and bereft of spirituality. In the midst of this, along comes Susan…”

“Tim, since when have you been spiritual? We have never ever gone to church, and you have never suggested we go to church. So what gives?”

“On some level inside, it feels like some guiding mechanism suddenly failed – one I’ve taken for granted in the past. I cannot explain it, Ronnie, but when I heard Susan talk about reiki, I wished to learn more. Something inside signalled ‘this is important,’ and I had a sense of awareness of what she was talking about, of having some prior experience with it – yet for the life of me, I cannot understand why. I have never in my life talked with anyone on reiki or anything like it, I have never even heard of it, so how would I feel some prior understanding?

What I do know is, if I am going to find my way through the issues that are mucking up my life, reiki might prove a huge help.”

Tim was sharing thoughts with Ronnie he would not have shared even a year before. Ronnie considered this progress, a nice step in the right direction, something where any improvement felt like a newly discovered goldmine.

She concurred that reiki was a nice pathway for Tim, a way for him to wrap his thoughts around something that would help him focus and find his way through. In the end, Tim had to find his way; this was not something anyone else could do for him. Moreover, there could be no more repetitions of being out of control. One person was lucky to be alive. If not for helping Tim, if nothing else, finding his way would be beneficial to others, most especially his family.

Since Ronnie and Tim were cooking dinner at home and bringing it with them to Susan’s, they decided to prepare something rather simple, opting for a mandarin salad and eggplant lasagne – a recipe passed down to Ronnie by her grandmother. While her mother never cared for it, eggplant lasagne was a favourite in the Salston household.

Ronnie and Tim weighed bringing Addison and Serada to Susan’s, but in the end decided the girls would spend the night with Ronnie’s mum. Both felt the discussion might get rather heavy, something their daughters would find as boring. They both loved staying with their gram, and so there would be no issue with Addie and Serry balking at this option.

Susan called on Thursday to share she was now home, and that she was looking forward to their visit on Saturday. In response to Ronnie’s query, Susan and Ronnie agreed on arriving at 6 pm.

On Friday, Ronnie sent flowers to her home, a nice spring arrangement that would cheer up the most melancholic, though she knew Susan possessed a joie de vivre that rendered this state an unlikely occurrence.

Ronnie’s mum arrived at 4 on Saturday, loaded up the various items Addie and Serry wished to bring, and headed back home. With their daughters gone, Ronnie and Tim turned to dinner preparation, Tim handling the salad, Ronnie the lasagne.

While the lasagne baked, Ronnie showered, chasing Tim away from the television and into the shower as soon as hers was complete.

They arrived at Susan’s more or less on time, each with an armful of dinner dishes and accompaniments. Susan again was gracious, first helping them with their burdens, and after everything was safely on her dining table, reached out to hug her newfound friends.

Each went to work in taking dinner to readiness. The lasagne returned to the oven for a final 15 minutes of heating (Ronnie had deliberately undercooked it). By agreement and common purpose, the threesome would not include alcohol in their get together, precluding any wine as dinner accompaniment.

Once seated to dinner, conversation turned toward reiki. “Susan, I’ve looked online, finding a few websites that explained reiki. As I’ve already explained to Ronnie, I’m very interested in this – I’d never heard of it until we met you.”

Susan smiled, knowing she was as intrigued as Tim was upon learning of reiki. “Perhaps we should give you a treatment after dinner,” she suggested, an offer Tim enthusiastically accepted.

After dinner was finished, the table cleared, and dishes loaded in the dishwasher, Tim stretched out on Susan’s reiki bench, a blanket covering the length of his body. Ready to go, she dimmed the lights in the room. Susan followed her usual protocol prior to giving a treatment, and then placed her hands upon the crown of Tim’s head. She began a repetitive but intermittent chant, her hands channelling healing energy into and then through her body, continuing into Tim.

After a few minutes, Susan, who stood with eyes shut, began to see flashes of colour, and then images passed through.

A half hour passed until Susan brought the session to a close. With the lights back on and Tim now off the bench, Susan shared and explained the various things she had seen during the session. "I saw several music references – especially writing music. There was a boat – a fish, like a dolphin. Oh… there was a rock, a big one, I’d guess 6 feet or more long, 3 feet high, covered with moss, but a very vivid green moss.

I could feel a heavy energy flow toward an emotional – and physical - blockage. That will take many treatments to clear; Tim, you really should do this. The physical blockage is extensive; I have never felt anything quite like it. No wonder you were in that bar on that night, you poor dear.” Susan feared for Tim, and rose to offer a huge hug in encouragement.

This one would be a priority for her, if only he would agree. Susan never charged for practicing reiki, she practiced only among a few friends and family. She would willingly donate her time and effort to helping Tim find his way through this crisis.

What Susan did not know in that moment, what she could not see or anticipate, was what happened after the combined efforts of Susan and Dolores actually began to work. Sometimes a cure could change a world.

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There are no Australian partners on the library page - well at the moment anyway.

The pictures varied from a singular shot of llhaesa holding one award, her toothy smile never more evident, to her standing by the quickly improvised table set up as a temporary place to hold the 17 awards that came llhaesa’s way during the programme – with llhaesa looking on just a tad unbelieving.

Publishers quickly sent llhaesa a very tasteful framed paper print of their particular front page, something carrying no small cost in the age of an electronic publishing society, where the only reason paper was manufactured - and then only in small quantities –was for ceremonial or celebratory purposes.

Jahrae hung the award pictures on one wall of llhaesa’s music studio, her judgment lost in the great pride she felt in her partner’s accomplishments. Llhaesa promptly took them all down, remarking “I know you are proud of me, Jahrae, and believe me, I appreciate your love and support, but I’m not about to live in a shrine to myself, or live my life with some misplaced and misguided sense of self-importance.”

While she ought to be upset at what seemed at first to be a mild rebuke, she knew llhaesa was not rebuking her, rather rebuking some notion she was better than others were. Llhaesa hated such thinking right to the core of her being, and her egalitarian outlook - at least in Jahrae’s eyes - was one of her most beautiful traits.

Still, Jahrae felt badly stuffing the award pictures in some hidden away place, and so she devised a plan: she would give four to llhaesa’s parents, and four to her own parents. Llhaesa would be annoyed, but Jahrae knew their parents would tenaciously guard and defend their right to hang the pictures. In time, llhaesa would accept this in the same way a child came to accept their parents showing others their more candid baby pictures – with an eye roll, and then moving on. The ‘baby picture’ analogy triggered a slight giggle in Jahrae, her thoughts flashing back to the Hrensa concert a few months before.

Jahrae had no intent to be deceitful; she would not surreptitiously send the pictures to their parents. No, she would simply invite them over, and then raise the matter as an idea. Once their parents latched on to this idea, which she assumed they would with the ferocity of some forest creature protecting her cub, llhaesa would have little choice but to accede to the plan.

While modesty and such was important to llhaesa, the rest of her family had a right to celebrate the accomplishments of someone they so dearly loved.

Three days later, Djellrin and Hrilleae joined Saehressa and Mrevan for an afternoon at Jahrae’s and llhaesa’s flat. Basking in the brilliant and warming rays of Arrhka on their rooftop patio, Jahrae squelched the butterflies in her stomach and casually raised the issue.

“I’m certain you’ve all seen the front pages of various weekly media – the ones with llhaesa’s smiling or somewhat bewildered face. Over the last several days, each publisher sent a framed copy of their front page, and without showing them to you in the moment, trust me when I say they are quite elegantly and tastefully prepared.

Llhaesa is uncomfortable with them hanging in our home – we’ve come to expect this of our llhaesa, right?” Jahrae paused, looking around at each parent, who nodded affirmatively, then continued.

It seems a huge waste to stuff them in a closet somewhere, when some of us do find pride in her accomplishments. A thought occurred to me – instead of shoving them in a closet, why not give some to each of our parents?” This time, llhaesa spoke up.

“I doubt our parents wish to display this stuff in their homes, Jahrae. Please… I am proud of the 17 awards. Does that mean I must endure my own image staring back at me? I am hardly narcissistic!”

“You are the antithesis of narcissistic!” Mrevan spoke up, his hands assisting with and accenting his comments. “That in turn does not mean your parents have ceded the right to display our love and affection for you when an opportunity presents itself. This is a time-honoured parental thing, llhaesa. Perhaps one day both of you will know the joy to be found in this, but for now, humour us!”

The other three parents displayed their own enthusiastic support for Mrevan’s comments through animated movements and commenting almost in unison. For her part, llhaesa sensed it was hopeless to pursue the matter, and meekly succumbed with a very quiet “all right,” while simultaneously pulling her face into a pout. It was the first time Jahrae ever saw her wife display anything resembling a pout.

“Llhaesa,” Saehressa spoke now, offering her motherly perspective. “It isn’t that we are trying to make you larger than life – that is impossible. We know you on a human scale. Goddess of Arrhazon, I carried you within me, felt you stir, and could sense your great desire and anticipation to get on with life.

I knew from the first you would meld humility with a sense of social purpose, as well as with your great love of music and drive to succeed. When we display these pictures, they are not our attempt to say ‘look world, our daughter is great,’ it is our attempt to say, ‘look world, we love our daughter. We love her for millions of reasons that are impossible to display anywhere but in our hearts and minds.”

No one spoke for a moment, digesting all that Saehressa placed on the table for consideration. Finally, llhaesa rose from her seat and crossed over to her mum, giving her a huge hug. “Thanks mum. You always have a way of seeing the way through something. That makes a boatload of sense, and I thank you for easing my concerns.”

“Now speaking of boats… Jahrae and I purchased one.” Llhaesa said this wearing a Cheshire cat grin, in part for the purchase, in part for successfully changing the subject.

“Boat?” Hrilleae interjected. This was her element, her forte. Djellrin ran a close second, but in years past, Hrilleae was best sailor in their extended family by acclamation. Both parents shared their knowledge with Jahrae, and she learned well. If the subject came up, Hrilleae would call Jahrae the better sailor. They taught her well.

“Two weeks before the awards, as you know we took a bit of vacation time. Initially we planned on a three-day weekend, but our plan went awry,” llhaesa paused there, with Jahrae stepping in to continue the story.

“On the second day, llhaesa spent time swimming with an empohnim, one she quickly named ‘Empo.’ Moment by moment, I could see llhaesa coming alive with an experience she never anticipated. This was after watching her fall head over heels in love with slicing through the water powered by nothing but the wind, unhindered by artificial noise.

Once we were back in the boat, llhaesa broached a proposal: return to the harbour, return the boat, buy our very own, and then set sail, while resetting the three-day vacation clock.

I counter-proposed, successfully negotiating for a full week of new time at sea.” Jahrae finished, her own smile growing wide at the memory.

“Aren’t empohnims a world of fun?” Hrilleae asked llhaesa, her eyes aglow with her own memories. “I’ve spent many a time in the water with them, they are adorable, friendly, and graceful creatures – and fierce protectors if they sense a threat to you by other sea creatures.”

“Tell us about your boat!” Mrevan threw a question into the discussion before adding, “Do you have imagery of the boat?”

“Yes we do, dad” llhaesa offered, I’ll be right back.” Llhaesa disappeared for a few short minutes, then returned with a digital photo device.

“Ooh, a real beauty! Mrevan exclaimed, a quick and muted whistle following his comment. The album made the rounds of the room, and Djellrin confessed he was “absolutely smitten with your new boat!”

Saehressa asked after the name of the boat, with Jahrae providing the answer. She wished to add another tangent to the discussion, and offered up what was on her mind.

“Llhaesa and I have discussed this, and please know the boat is available for any and all of us to use. All we ask is that any plans made in advance be shared, that way we all can co-ordinate when it is in use or available for use.”

Llhaesa spoke up, suggesting they spend a weekend on the boat together. It would easily accommodate the six of them. The six made and affirmed plans for the second following weekend, where they would introduce Saehressa and Mrevan to the joys of Bay life.

Mrevan was skittish; Saehressa found it ‘an exciting idea!” Llhaesa could not wait to get her parents aboard, where she would spend extra effort to help her dad enjoy the experience.

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After a fashion, she too felt the urge to play. First stripping off the tee shirt that covered a bathing suit underneath, she dove in and joined the fray.

Llhaesa spotted Jahrae, and swam over for a kiss in greeting. Seeing this show of affection, Empo came up on the side of both, nudging Jahrae with his own method of expressing fondness. She kissed him just below the eye in return.

His curiosity about this new human in the water - one obviously on good terms with his other human friend - now satiated, Empo watched intently for llhaesa’s next move.

Llhaesa dove under the water, with Empo in hot pursuit. Within moments, Jahrae could see llhaesa moving across the surface of the water at a clip well beyond the limits of human capability – she was holding onto Empo, screaming exhilaratingly as she plied the bay at a speed somewhere around 30 kilometres per hour.

After ten minutes, llhaesa was back alongside Jahrae, still basking in the excitement of her empohnim ride. Empo remained by her side, and Jahrae could not help but wonder whether he would be sad when they re-boarded the sailboat.

Llhaesa looked at Jahrae with sad and reluctant eyes. “I guess it is time we get back on the boat, but one more Empo-ride, this time with both of us riding.”

The two partners held on for dear life as Empo whooshed through the bay water, occasionally turning or zig zagging, obviously reacting to the laughter and excitement generated by his riders - who weren't actually riding at all, instead holding on by way of his dorsal fin. Sensing the need to end the ride, Empo came to a rest near their boat. Jahrae was the first to say her goodbyes, giving Empo a quick hug, then swimming over to the boat. Llhaesa lingered a few extra moments.

“It is time for me to leave, Empo. I will always remember you and the time spent in your space. You have taught me much.” Llhaesa finished by wrapping her arms around the sea mammal, giving him a loving squeeze while resting her head upon his. With a final peck on his face, she swam back to the boat, where Jahrae sat on the bow wrapped in a towel.

Llhaesa climbed aboard, grabbing her own towel, and asked Jahrae if she wished to set sail. “I need to get moving or I’m going to burst into tears, Jahrae. Something important happened out there. Not something important on a global scale, but important on my scale.”

“No need to convince me, llhaesa. I knew you would take to sailing, knew you would take to the Bay. You have shown me how correct those assumptions were, ten times over.” Jahrae was thrilled that llhaesa found great joy in her world.

The two teamed to raise the sail, Jahrae then seeing to the anchor, llhaesa taking the helm. Soon they were on their way, the empohnim entourage faithfully following the boat.

Jahrae joined llhaesa by the helm. “I love you, but… should I fear losing you to Empo?” Jahrae teased. “OK, that was low… I know you found something special out there today, and I suspect it will soon find its way into song.”

Llhaesa nodded, a smile playing on her face. Suddenly, a look spawned by idea washed over her face. “Jahrae lets buy a boat. Let’s go back right now, buy a boat, and come back out for a fresh round of three days.”

“Are you serious? I am with you on the boat deal, but… you wish to take more time off for play? Are you feverish? I am on school break – my time is your time, but you normally get antsy when separated for an extended time from a keyboard. Are you certain you wish to do this?” Jahrae needed to ask now, needed to find where llhaesa’s thoughts lie, needed to be the voice of reason. Whether she could do this was an entirely different matter.

“Yeah, I know… but that will be ok. I have not taken a real vacation since high school - with my parents. Jahrae, I need this to refresh my soul. The Artists Colony carried a different purpose – while it was a vacation on one level, I worked like hell on writing as well.” Llhaesa obviously had given this thought.

“If you are certain this is how you feel, then I’ll make a proposal of my own. We buy the boat, and we sail for a full extra week. That would be my terms.” Jahrae flashed a wide grin at llhaesa.

“It’s a deal!”

They quickly came about, llhaesa relinquishing the helm to the more skilled Jahrae. By mid-afternoon, they were back at the rental shop, the clerk surprised to see them a day early. “We’ve decided to buy a boat, and since this is our choice, no refund is expected,” offered Llhaesa, easing his anticipated fear. As an afterthought, she added, “Where is your sales shop?”

“A bit further up the bay, you can see it from the docks. If you go back out to the road, turn left, and go about a kilometre, you cannot miss it. If you wish, I will call ahead for you,” the sales clerk graciously offered.

Fifteen minutes later, llhaesa and Jahrae sat in an office with a sales representative, looking through their online catalogue of in stock boats, narrowing the choices. Then they would actually check out the now winnowed possibilities.

The partners settled on a beautiful, top of the line 9-metre boat, one with a forest green hull and black and yellow striping around the top periphery of the hull. It featured brightly coloured yellow sails with black and forest green stripes, and carried about every amenity one could reasonably expect to find on a 9-metre boat.

They quickly consummated the sale – llhaesa immediately transferred full payment, so there was no need for financing - and the sales rep simultaneously requested the transfer of the boat from storage to water, with protective wrapping removed. Llhaesa and Jahrae asked them to forego any major prep work for now, in order that they quickly resume their vacation. Once vacation ended, they would return the boat to the dealer to complete whatever other things needed attention.

While this took place, they crossed the marina’s customer vehicle area to a food and provisions store, buying their anticipated needs for seven days at sea. Store employees helped them bring the purchases to the marina, where marina employees loaded it on board the boat for them.

An hour later, armed with the knowledge vacation was beginning anew, llhaesa and Jahrae set out in the newly named Overture.

“Thank you so much, Jahrae. You have quietly seen to the renewal of my soul. I cannot think of something I would rather do than sail the waters of the bay with you. You… have my heart, my soul, my mind, and my love.”

Suddenly, Jahrae looked at llhaesa and burst into tears, catching llhaesa totally by surprise. She quickly moved to comfort Jahrae – the why could be figured out later. It turned out there was no need, Jahrae volunteered why.

“I’ve known you for less than a year, llhaesa. A year ago, I worried that my parents – the social cause type *cough* would toss you - rapidly becoming the pre-eminent social cause advocate - at me for inspiration. I set out to learn what I could about you for parental rebuttal purposes. In the midst of reading your bio, I was stunned to see the government ban on you performing at government venues, as well as a myriad of little details, like beginning your music learning curve at age four – and then I saw your pictures for the first time. Can I just say my outlook changed with the information taken in that day?” Jahrae was laughing now, and then continued to share how she felt.

“I never ever would have guessed I would meet you, let alone marry you. You are so much more than what I thought in that first dumb crush phase, llhaesa. I love you more with each passing day. It seems impossible – my love knows no bounds - yet tomorrow morning I will still wake feeling my love for you grew overnight.

Jahrae was done talking, and llhaesa squeezed Jahrae tight, rocking her, whispering return comments in Jahrae’s ear, their embrace taking more urgency. Within moments, the boat was at anchor, and the two found great relief in discovering the bed linens were already prepared.

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The transport was full, and so Saehressa first found and then held dearly to a support post provided for those who rode standing; llhaesa dutifully mimicked her mum and stood under Saehressa’s watchful and protective invisible umbrella, also clinging to the provided support.

They came to the next transport-stop, where several people disembarked. Saehressa saw opportunity in the newly vacated seating, quickly grabbed her young daughter’s hand, and headed for two open seats.

Llhaesa near jumped onto the window-side seat; Saehressa moved more slowly and circumspectly, not quite reaching sitting position when a voice harshly and authoritatively called out to her.

“That is my seat!” A man at once admonished and commanded, expecting Saehressa to yield her and llhaesa’s claim simply because of their apparent respective genders. Saehressa looked over to llhaesa, and knew her response would be as much for llhaesa as it would be for herself. Llhaesa was watching with those great big all seeing eyes of hers, eyes that rarely missed a trick.

Saehressa ignored the man and looked forward, focusing toward the front of the transport.

“I said this is my seat!” reprised the unsatisfied annoyance, this time his voice louder and more urgent. The transport lurched forward, and the man briefly stumbled until he found balance. Again, Saehressa remained silent.

Her body began to shake. The man’s hand was on her shoulder, mildly shaking Saehressa to draw her attention. After all, he was speaking to her, and women should meekly submit to the requests of Arrhazonan men. Saehressa again looked toward llhaesa, evaluating possible options, with llhaesa as the central reason for what she would next choose to do.

“By whose authority do you claim this seating, sir?” Saehressa politely asked, knowing there was no answer other than discriminatory and outdated social mores.

“You know perfectly well why. Now relinquish your seats, or I’ll have you and the young bitch with you thrown off the transport.”

Young bitch.

Saehressa stood nearly as tall as the adult llhaesa would one day be. The average height for an Arrhazonan woman was 1.65 metres, while the average Arrhazonan man stood at 1.75 metres. Saehressa measured 1.842 metres. She rightly guessed this man’s height at a bit less than the average Arrhazonan male.

Taking a chance, she rose out of her seat, extending her body to its full height. She next glared downward, her eyes telegraphing their readiness to pierce the strongest of materials, to stand in defiance of any aggressor.

The man hesitated, clearly taking in the altered circumstance of this confrontation. He stole a glance upward at Saehressa’s face, quickly coming away with a conclusion on what he most feared but heretofore failed to consider. Pushing this confrontation would end badly for him.

Attempting to salvage his dignity, he moved to make it look like his choice to disengage. He spat in Saehressa’s face and walked away.

None of this was lost on llhaesa. She watched it all unfold, her highly intelligent but young mind processing what unfolded. She would remember this through her life, remember the discrimination, remember how her mum coolly handled the confrontation and stood her ground, clearly thinking of what llhaesa would take away from it all.

It was not the last incident the mother-daughter team would encounter on llhaesa’s way toward adulthood, but it remained the most vivid, largely because of her child’s outlook at that time – that everything works according to some humanist ideal, that people all get along.

When it came time to face the entrenched misguided social mores wrought by millennia of Arrhazonan patriarchy, llhaesa had grown into its foremost and most formidable opponent, and that was largely the result of her parents – for Mrevan was fierce in defending the equal rights of Saehressa and llhaesa – outlook and conduct.

Winding her way through school, llhaesa and all of the other young women dealt with the sense of entitlement carried by some of her male classmates. Mostly there were verbal insults, but occasionally someone felt some entitlement to her body. When that happened, without fail the person left having learned a profound if incomplete lesson: do not mess with llhaesa.

The most serious problem arose in her first year of high school, as she practised alone in a dimly lit music room, trying to master a particular play technique that continued to elude her.

Another student approached from behind, llhaesa entirely unaware of his presence. Suddenly his hand was inside her open collared shirt, sending a wave of shock through llhaesa, but one that galvanised in immediate action. Inside of five seconds, the young man lie shaking on the floor, blurting out “I thought you would like it!” and “don’t hurt me!”

Llhaesa was standing over him, her mind squelching the anger brought by way of adrenaline, calling upon Aailhra to guide her. “Go. If you ever lay a hand on me – or any other student – again, I will come looking for you.”

The young man found purchase with his feet, his hands pushing him up off the floor until he was upright. He immediately ran from the room, and over the next 3 years of school never once made eye contact or uttered so much as a one syllable word at llhaesa.

On another occasion, a teacher in North 41 made a pass at her, and this time Saehressa witnessed the attempt, fortuitously coming to get llhaesa and head home at the precise moment the teacher made his move. The man lost his employment on top of walking awkwardly for a week.

These were the memorable events, but countless little indignities stretched across the experiences of her young life, the little indignities oppressors expect the oppressed to endure. The collective package well shaped Llhaesa’s outlook by the time she walked into her first class at N’rellia. She would play some role in seeing this world to change, or she would die in the attempt.

Her pathway was largely clear of concertgoers; it was still a full 90 minutes until show time. There were some early arrivals mixed in with the Hrensa Music Hall staff, as well as with a few outside suppliers delivering various food and beverages to the food concourse. Otherwise, the concourse was largely devoid of people.

Jahrae easily dodged all, finally reaching the correct staircase that would take her to the assigned box seats. While llhaesa would change into formal attire backstage, Jahrae had no such luxury – she dressed in such at home. She now made her way up the staircase in heels that already hurt her feet. “Be glad I love you such that I’d put up with this nonsense!” While Jahrae directed her thoughts at llhaesa, her face telegraphed the amusement that briefly stirred in her mind.

Before Jahrae left on her staircase-mission, Llhaesa pronounced Jahrae ‘beyond stunning.’ The musician about to take sole possession of the Hrensa stage loathed leaving her beautiful lover behind at the stage door.

Jahrae well knew llhaesa’s focus and competitiveness; once her hands touched the piano keyboard, the rest of the world – including Jahrae - would begin to fade from her mind, llhaesa’s world reducing to her and the keyboard. Yet Jahrae knew how llhaesa felt: she felt the very same way in return, except that she had to share llhaesa with the entire audience. “I’ll deal with her later!” Jahrae let the train of thought go on an amusing note.

The staircase climb came to a merciful end, at least for this section, emptying onto the second level concourse. Other concertgoers could brave the staircase wilds heading further upward; this was Jahrae’s stop.

An usher was quick to offer assistance, asking for her ticket. “I have none, sir. I’m llhaesa’s wife.”

“Very good, ma’am. Your private seating is located this way, if you will follow me.” The usher headed off toward the left as viewed from the top of the staircase, and Jahrae dutifully followed.

“Ms t’yaeli’s parents are already seated, ma’am.” The usher was trying to be pleasant and polite, but the ‘ms t’yaeli’ part just succeeded in making Jahrae laugh.

“Ma’am?’ the usher stopped and looked at Jahrae quizzically, clearly puzzled by her laughter.

“Oh, don’t mind me. You referred to my wife as ‘ms t’yaeli.’ I know she would be aghast at such a reference - this is someone who refuses to capitalise her name; it makes her uncomfortable. Please call her llhaesa, with a lower case ‘l.’

“Ma’am, I understand and will honour your request, but please know my employer would also be aghast to hear me refer to… llhaesa… by her given name.” The usher candidly outlined his plight, and Jahrae respected him in turn for doing so.

“If your employer admonishes you for this, please tell them it was at my request. If that proves insufficient explanation, please call llhaesa and me.” Jahrae sought to ease his fear, and finished by giving the young man her mobile number. “Please refrain from sharing that number with any other.” Jahrae finished.

“Thank you… Jahrae!” he graciously acknowledged her show of support. Now standing at the entry to the box seating, he held the door open for Jahrae to pass through.

“Thank you again, um…?” Jahrae had neglected to get his name.

“It’s E’scensre, ma’a… I mean Jahrae!” He bowed to her, turned, and returned to his duty station at the top of the staircase.

Jahrae turned from E’scensre toward her parents-in-law, who rose in unison from their sitting positions. “Hello!” she greeted them simply but warmly, reaching out to hug first Saehressa and then Mrevan. “Have you been here long?” she inquired.

“Har! If we were using the general entrance, we would have been the first in the building. If Mrevan had his way, we would have slept in here last night!” Saehressa teased her husband good-naturedly.

“I would not, well… um… maybe I would have.” Mrevan joked back. Please… have a seat. We figure you get to sit front row and to the left, the very first of the box seats. After all, llhaesa will need inspiration, and I’ll say that in no uncertain terms, you would inspire the entire planet tonight, Jahrae.” Mrevan stated quite sincerely, before quickly realising a potential faux pas and added “as would Saehressa, but then like mother like daughter,” a reference to the striking resemblance between Saehressa and llhaesa.

The three engaged in lively family chatter, eventually joined by M’traliel and Khahishra, and finally Hrilleae and Djellrin. This box held the people dearest to llhaesa, a sentiment they wholeheartedly reciprocated towards the blonde whirlwind.

So engaged in conversation were they that Djellrin finally broke the bubble by pointing out the house was now fully occupied. A look to his wrist led him to pronounce it ‘show time!”

As if on cue, the house lights dimmed, yet the stage remained dark. A solitary spotlight reached for centre stage, where the Hrensa Curator now stood. “Good evening, fellow Arrhazonans. This evening, Hrensa Music Hall is more than pleased to have the great pleasure of presenting the pre-eminent pianist of our generation.

There was some controversy initially in our attempt to request the honour of her performing, but those issues have been resolved – with your enthusiastic support!” At this, the crowd stood and applauded, then quickly quieted to let the Curator continue.

“I have to offer this disclaimer. Views which may be presented tonight are not necessarily the views of Hrensa Music Hall, me, or the board of directors.” A few hoots rang out, along with an accompaniment of ‘shhhh!’

“I say ‘are not necessarily…’ Being candid, we all know llhaesa’s views. We all know her talent. I am certain we are here to enjoy all that she brings to a performance.

With that, I shall desist. Hrensa patrons, why we are here tonight… please welcome LLHAESA ARHELLA T’YAELI!” The introduction faded into a deafening roar of applause. Again, the stage blacked out, while the applause remained the only sound in the Hall.

For the average person in the hall, it took a moment to realise a tiny row of light was increasing in intensity, now revealing the 88 keys – and only the 88 keys - of a grand piano. Fingers of one hand entered the light, reaching for the keys in the centre, but the fingers… reversed, approaching from the piano side, not the facing bench side.

The singular hand and fingers began to play a repetitive blues melody that was at once rhythmic and intoxicating. A sultry Voice washed over the concertgoers, a slowly rising crescendo from initially barely audible to clearly audible throughout the hall. The Voice used no amplification. It was matching the blues feel of the piano play – raw, raspy, unfiltered - and downright seductive.

“Moments ago, I left my lover at the door; moments ago, I left my lover wanting more…” At this moment, another spotlight illuminated the top of the grand, where llhaesa, now fully resplendent in a three quarter length, form fitting black gown with a side slit on her upper side, stretched suggestively across the top of the highly polished and reflective piano. A bowl of grapes claimed the honour of being the only other item present. Jahrae could not believe what she was seeing - it was only a matter of time before the laughter within could no longer be contained. “…Jahrae… L’il Ms Fantasy wants you!” Llhaesa closed the song with a very brief final flurry on the piano.

With the song ended, llhaesa playfully reached into the bowl of grapes and plucked one solitary grape off a bunch, pondering it carefully. She then put forth the most suggestive eating of a grape anyone on Arrhazon would ever witness, taking her sweet time in fully appreciating and savouring the small fruit – working the crowd into an uproarious frenzy.

Jahrae was every bit as wild as the larger body of the crowd, her parents “Goddess, our parents!” were ready to fall out of their seats, the whole place was applauding and laughing and… turning to look up at Jahrae, whose face now provided enough ambient red light to take over for the spotlights above.

Llhaesa slid off the piano in about as graceful a manner one could ever muster in evening wear, walked to centre stage, motioned to the booth housing her family, and called out “I would like to introduce my wife, Jahrae Khentavra!”

Jahrae should have known; llhaesa always got even – or more – at her shows, and “dammit, she got me again!” Jahrae graciously waved and bowed to the crowd, while silently mouthing the words “I’ll get you for that!” towards llhaesa – though she doubted llhaesa could see her do such.

Everyone in the booth with her took turns in offering up comments – after they were able to work in a word amidst their laughter. They all loved Jahrae, and were well aware of the ongoing pranks played by her and llhaesa on each other.

“How will I get even with llhaesa for this?” Jahrae silently wondered, her mind already dredging up possibilities. Before the show was over, she would implement a plan and see it through.

: : : : : : : : : : :

In her 42^nd year of government service, Lzrehae’s charge as supervisor was to see to proper storage and cataloguing of government documents. Numerous warehouses full of them awaited processing 12 years ago, the huge backlog created during the Brellian years. All this time later, and they were only 60% done.

Lzrehae would recall for the rest of her life how excited M’srusae was with her find, how she ran across the warehouse calling Lzrehae’s name. The new employee - hired right out of Arrhazon College - well knew the significance of what lie in her hands. Llhaesa was a universal hero and legend on Arrhazon, and she well knew Brellian murdered llhaesa. Brellian possessed a twisted mind, one that grew worse during his tenure as Chief of Government - and amazingly, his own staff dutifully recorded all of his and their misdeeds.

Within hours of the discovery, this particular file - from several hours of one day - was in the hands of Chief of Government Gl’nsiel. The file gave a detailed account of the arrest of llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli, one that left off with no mention of a final action, but which did detail events to around 9 am, about an hour before they informed t’yaeli’s Jahrae that she ‘ceased to be.’ Not only did it detail llhaesa's detention, it included 90 minutes of video that was at once ultimately repulsive and a demonstration of the astounding courageousness of llhaesa.

Gl’nsiel read the record a second time, simultaneously sickened by what llhaesa endured, yet feeling such great pride in llhaesa’s open defiance and refusal to go quietly to her fate. Gl’nsiel needed to share part of this story with all of Arrhazon, but how much of the information should she share? On the other hand, she would make damn sure Brellian heard every word of what they saw in the file.

With global governance, there was no one time of day best suited to informing the people. Gl’nsiel asked her Chief of Staff to join her in her office, where she handed over the record and waited for a reaction. The CoS accepted the electronic record and quickly scanned its contents. Tears welled in her eyes; she ended her read-through with a ‘way to go, llhaesa!’ and followed that by wiping away the streaks of water lining her face. “I’m sorry, Gl’nsiel…”

“No need to be sorry, my reaction was quite the same.” Gl’nsiel sincerely responded. “I intend to share this record with the people of Arrhazon – providing Jahrae Khentavra so authorises release of this information. I will call Jahrae in a short while; ask if I might pay a visit. If she authorises this, and I suspect she will, I will return here and immediately speak to all of Arrhazon.

One more thing... I would like you to contact the facility holding Brellian. Please inform the warden that Jahrae and I may pay a visit there in the next few days.

After the Chief of Staff left her office, Gl’nsiel dialled Jahrae’s mobile, watching as Jahrae’s image flickered and formed on her screen.

“Hello, Gl’nsiel! How is my favourite head of government?” Jahrae cared much for Gl’nsiel – the two had become friends during the revolution that overthrew Brellian.

“I have probably had better days than today and unfortunately must also share with you what I have witnessed. I would like to visit your flat, Jahrae. This is something we need to discuss when both of us are together.”

“Gl’nsiel, you are always welcome here and you know this, but logistically it makes no sense for you. With your security needs, it is far easier for me to scoot downtown than have your team assemble and escort you here. When would you wish me to come in?”

Gl’nsiel had not considered Jahrae making such an offer. She made sense, as always. “Very well, Jahrae… you always did have an eye for taking a common sense approach. Can you join me immediately?”

“I certainly can. It normally takes me a half hour or less to get there, and I will be out of here in 15 minutes. Does this work for you?” Jahrae asked, but knew it would be quite acceptable.

“That would be perfect.” As an afterthought, Gl’nsiel added “and Jahrae… I would like you to spend the night here. You can return home in the morning if you wish. We will see you in about 45 minutes.”

“Take care Gl’nsiel, and we will see you then.” Most who heard them converse would be aghast at how Jahrae informally addressed the Chief of Government, but the truth was Gl’nsiel hated being addressed by her title. She would growl at anyone on her immediate staff who addressed her in such a manner.

True to her word, Jahrae was there in 40 minutes. The two friends merged in a hug that was both genuine and extended; as soon as they moved out of the embrace, Gl’nsiel’s expression changed, telegraphing some combination of reluctance and concern. Gl’nsiel motioned Jahrae toward the more personal space on the far side of her office. “Come sit with me, Jahrae.” They moved to the twin and sizeable white, overstuffed sofas, each claiming one sofa as their own temporary refuge.

“Jahrae, I am certain you see the worry on my face, I’ve never been very good at hiding my concern for another’s well being.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

“As you know, after we succeeded Brellian and brought normalcy back to government, we set out to catalogue all the unregistered documents from that horrid time. Twelve years later, and we are a bit over halfway through.

This morning, one of Lzrehae N’seseh’s staff - Lzrehae is in charge of the cataloguing effort - came running up to her, knowing she carried historically significant documentation.

Jahrae, what I am about to tell you will not be easy for you to hear and digest, but please understand as your friend I have no choice but to make you aware.

This record was of llhaesa’s last day. It is incomplete, covering a portion of the time after the government operatives took her from your flat, but ends… an hour and a half before the stated time of death given to you later in the day.

What is in that record is graphic; a confrontation also occurred.” Gl’nsiel paused, and Jahrae’s curiosity led her to throw out a question.

“Gl’nsiel, what kind of confrontation occurred? What did they do to llhaesa? Please tell me she was not beaten…” Jahrae felt her stomach turn.

Gl’nsiel briefly lowered her eyes, staring at the coffee table between them. She raised them back towards Jahrae, willing herself to look into her friend’s eyes. “Jahrae, I am afraid she was. And unfortunately, it gets even worse.”

At this, Jahrae gasped, her right hand fingers moving in cusped fashion to her mouth. She was a minute from tears.

“By the time llhaesa arrived at Brellian’s tower - the one we demolished six years ago – and where the record begins, her face shows signs of swelling. The operatives drag her in through her face first into a holding room, knocking out one of her teeth.

At that point, Brellian enters the room…” Jahrae’s outcry stops Gl’nsiel from continuing with the story.

“Brellian! He saw llhaesa? Goddess of Arrhazon, what did he do?”

“She is forced to stand in front of him, held by Brellian’s goons. Llhaesa spits at his shoes…” Jahrae again interrupts with “way to go, llhaesa!”

“…which brought a blow to her abdomen in retaliation. Brellian taunts llhaesa, and she gives it right back... Jahrae…” Gl’nsiel is on her feet, moving to sit alongside Jahrae. “Brellian and the operatives ripped off her clothing.”

Jahrae knew where this was going, and her hand moved to brush across her forehead. “The arse hole raped her, right?”

“Yes, Jahrae… he did.” Gl’nsiel stopped there for a moment, before continuing. “There is something else, Jahrae. Llhaesa fought back. And she fought back valiantly.”

“Yeah, that she would. Llhaesa was the gentlest person in the history of the universe, but dealing with that prick, in a rape, she would put up one hell of a fight. If he left his guard down, she has this move - Saehressa taught her self defence, and llhaesa later taught me as well – where she would slam her palm into the nose of an attacker, and that has to be debilitating.” Jahrae was already feeling pride mixed in with the horror. She could feel llhaesa’s rage across time and space.

“There is video of what happened, Jahrae.” Gl’nsiel blurted this out, but the time was right.

“Video? The fuckers filmed a beating and a rape?” Jahrae was on her feet now, her hands assisting in animatedly pleading her case. I need to see this video, Gl’nsiel. Now, before I lose my courage.”

“Very well. Come.” They left her office, moving to a conference room with a larger view-screen. The two watched in silence, watched as Brellian first raped llhaesa, and then llhaesa gave him a full-fledged payback, knocking him out. The screen went black, signalling the end of the recording.

“I would like to go see Brellian. What is more, I would like you to accompany me, Jahrae.” Gl’nsiel knew this would be an important step for Jahrae.

“You do not have to ask twice, because I was just about to ask you if you would join me in visiting the bastard!” Jahrae could hardly wait, not knowing that so much more lay undiscovered, so very much more.

“There is one more thing, Jahrae. No, not more story, rather what to do with this story. I would like to share some of this with all of Arrhazon, but I wish to know what we should share and what we will not share. I will honour your wishes on this matter.” Gl’nsiel knew the woman facing her had well earned this right.

“Reveal everything, Gl’nsiel. Share it all. Obviously we need to think of children and exercise appropriate discretion… but the video should be accessible by every adult on this planet.”

I am awake. “You bastard, why the water?” leaves my mind through my mouth; it is an almost automatic response. My face reforms into a scowl of total defiance. I was dreaming; there is no playful Empo, but a guard-goon dumping a glass of water in my face.

“Up, t’yaeli… now!” Guard-goon’s only answer is a short command. He pulls on my arm, roughly. I rise.

Guard-goon begins to pull me towards the door. He speaks. “Time for you to go - say goodbye to your home, t’yaeli!” His words end in a laugh. I steal a glance at the old floor-standing clock; it is 6:45 am. My head is pounding from the early morning flurry of alcohol.

There are a dozen guard-goons in here all told - a dozen just to hold me. I am going to die anyway, so… I break free, swing around, and kick holding guard-goon squarely in the nuts. He is bent over, har! Another guard-goon grabs my arm; I use his momentum to throw him over my shoulder, “take that, you arse hole! Yes!” I score a direct hit with him landing on top of first guard-goon!

A third goon comes at me; I slam my palm into his nose. Two others grab my arms and hold them tightly. First guard-goon is now standing - albeit a bit wobbly - and does not look happy. I see a blur of motion; my face turns violently left. First guard-goon has lashed out in retaliation. I can feel blood running down my face.

First guard-goon grabs my hair tightly, pulling on it to a position above my head; he punches me in the face again. I feel my legs give out, but the two goons holding me keep me upright. First guard-goon lashes out again, catching me full force in the stomach. I vomit on his shoes. He shoves me down to the floor, shoves my face in the vomit and tells me to lick it off his boots.

“Lick it yourself, arse hole!” is my response. He yanks me up again - how predictable - but the other two guard-goons are not holding me. He swings again; I catch his fist, deflecting his momentum just to the right of me, while using leverage to send him over once again. Ooh, he is seriously pissed.

Another guard-goon comes over and swings a club at me, and connects; I black out.

My eyes try to open, but they are swollen; so too my mouth. My whole body hurts. I am in a moving vehicle with three guard-goons around me. They have me chained to a metal post. I try to speak. “Where are you taking me?” There is no response. We ride for what seems like an hour, but I have no sense of time under the best of conditions.

We stop. The back doors of the goon-transport fly open; a guard goon unlocks the chain, then two other guard-goons pull me out. They tie my hands together with special cord.

We are inside a building parking area; despite their coercion, my legs refuse to move. They drag me toward a doorway. They pull me through the doorway into a service lobby, and then on into a lift. We begin to rise. This is a significant force; we are going high. Downtown… we must be downtown.

The lift stops; the door opens, they push me out. I stumble; they drag me back up, pulling me by my arms. “arrrrrrghhhhhhh” my arm sockets cause me to scream in agony.

Another door opens; we move forward to still another door. One of the guard-goons opens it, and the two dragging guard-goons throw me face first onto the floor; I slide and slam my face into a table. I feel something sharp under my left cheek; they knocked out one of my teeth. I pass out.

I feel my body lurch over; I am on my back now, my hands are no longer tied. Someone again throws water in my face – what is it with these idiots and water? “Stand, bitch!” a self-important guard-goon commands. You have a very prestigious visitor, and you had better show proper respect!”

I open my eyes. I am seeing things; Brellian is coming into focus. Two guard-goons pull me to my feet. “Bow to the Chief of Government!” some voice calls out from behind me, no doubt self-important guard-goon.

I spit at Brellian’s feet. A blow to the stomach again; I drop, they pull me back up.

“Well, well t’yaeli. We finally meet, and I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.” The bastard laughs and then continues. “You have caused my administration and me some major inconveniences, but that is of the past now.

I am sure you have thought of the day when you would stare down a defeated Brellian, and I am sorry that I cannot accommodate your dream. It truly is a pity.”

I see two guard-goons leave the room; left are Brellian, the two guard-goons holding me up, and of course, me.

“Rip off her clothing!” Brellian shouts. One guard-goon holds me up, another rips my shirt in two, right off of my body in one pull. He reaches for my shorts, ripping part of the material, but they do not sever. He pulls them down, and then pulls them from under me. I fall and slam my face on the floor. The guard-goons do what they do best, and pull me up again.

Brellian pulls my bra off over my head. The bastard is too weak to rip it in two, har! He does manage a rip with my underwear, as a result, my crotch stings.

“Now t’yaeli, you dyke… women are weak, and you find your attraction in women. That says much about you, I think.” This guy is sicker than I thought.

I manage to speak. “So you love men, Brellian? Well, I learned something today!” He slaps me across my face.

“There is nothing wrong with loving men, Brellian. As you say… I am a dyke, two men who are loving and caring and honourable…” he cuts off my words by slapping me again.

I persist. “It's the 'honourable' part, right... you can't possibly be such. And ooh... big brave Brellian has to have two guard-goons hold me so he can slap me without fear of retribution.” Whap!

Another tooth falls out. My mouth is badly bleeding. He drops his pants and steps out of them. I knew this was coming. “Ooh, a sadist and a rapist. You are a good one, Brellian! Of course, with that pathetic looking thing between your legs…” I am looking straight at his genitalia.

This time he does not slap. I feel his groin against me. He is pushing and he fails to enter me. He tries again and fails again. On the third try, he succeeds. He moves his mouth onto mine, his tongue finds its way into my swollen mouth; one hand is on one of my breasts.

He pulls his mouth away and I yell out “you have to have guard-goons hold me in order to rape me? Why, you *are* the big, bad, dude! Come on, Brellian… just you and me, tell the guard-goons of yours to get lost. Let’s see how much of a man you really are!”

I can see the wild rage in his eyes, but he does nothing in the moment. I can feel the unease of the two guard-goons holding me; my open defiance makes them nervous, no doubt wondering what will happen to them after I am dead.

“Leave her and leave the room at once!” Brellian orders the guard-goons. As an afterthought, “close all of the visual access to this room as well!” He does not wish them watching what he probably half-senses will be his failed attempt to rape me on his own.

They are gone. He looks at me wickedly. “Where were we, t’yaeli? Oh, yes. You believe you can mount a defence and make me look weak. I so do love sport!” The man is sick to the core.

He steps closer, reaching for my arms. I duck and grab his right arm, pulling him over me. He slams against the wall. He screams and spins up onto his feet in one motion, then lunges at me. I step aside and he hits his head on a chair. Brellian whirls around, his right forearm striking out at my face, and again I use his arm to send him over me, back into the wall. You would think he would tire of hitting that wall. He is dazed, but rises. He refuses to admit I am the stronger.

I have little strength left in me; I am running on the last of my adrenaline. My mind calls to Aailhra; my mind thinks of Jahrae. This, you bastard… is for her.

Brellian comes at me with what I sense is all of his remaining energy and strength, swinging his right elbow from just about straight in front of him, towards the side and at me. This time I do not go for his arm; I spin for better position; I strike out at his head with my left palm and break his nose. On the heels of this, my right leg swings upward like lightning; I nail him squarely in the balls. He drops; he is out. Out.

It is my little short-lived victory; yet a victory nonetheless. Even after my death, Brellian will have to live with the fact I beat the shit out of him when he raped me.

The guard-goons re-enter the room; they watched after all. I suspect their lives will end not long after mine. They stun me with some goon-device; my consciousness is lost.

The store was devoid of any security paraphernalia, and it was in an out of the way location, where no security types would even begin to think to look. Moreover, the two acted as independent and solitary customers, carefully couching their comments such that no one around them would notice they were conversing.

They would interact briefly, one would move to another rack and look through it, and then they would come face to face at yet another rack. At other times, they stood side by side, looking forward as if studying what lie in front of them.

Their real reason for meeting was to discuss the second release of llhaesa’s final songs. The first achieved spectacular results and created a huge public outcry. This second release should build upon this, escalating public pressure.

With the imminent début of the new release, Kukaeshra had recommended Jahrae, M’traliel, Saehressa and Mrevan, Khahishra, Hrilleae and Djellrin, etc go into hiding. All but M’traliel and Jahrae were now safely scattered to places of safety, and after this release, both of them would move in with Jesnsera for a short while, until Jesnsera found them other secure accommodation.

The next release in her closed jacket pocket, Jahrae would wait until they were out of the store and among a larger crowd before making the transfer to Kukaeshra. This song, titled Corporeal Superficiality was a defiant declaration by llhaesa of how the government goons might destroy her body, but they would never destroy or take away her heart, her soul, her beliefs, her spirituality, her outlook, and most especially her love for Jahrae. It ‘featured’ llhaesa playing an acoustic guitar, which she played as expertly and nimbly as her keyboard work, and which ultimately would catch those less familiar with her work totally by surprise.

With this song, Llhaesa’s voice displayed its natural, unique, and somewhat raspy nature - how it sounded when she did not intentionally refine through years of training into a more consistent, less throaty sound – best suited for classical works. The natural and raspy was quite appealing in other genres, though most often, llhaesa did not let her voice go this route.

Jahrae was quite familiar with hearing llhaesa sing this way during practice time. Beyond classical training, this was also for health reasons – this style was straining on llhaesa’s vocal cords, even if she were predisposed to sing in this manner. Yet if someone asked her to choose and forced to answer, this voice was the one Jahrae most loved to hear. It represented the unfiltered and incredibly pure, raw and powerful voice of llhaesa, bereft of formal musical training – a blow out, kick arse blues sort of feel.

The faux shoppers left the store at different times, moving toward the market area as any shopper would - by window-shopping. The market at midday hosted thousands of people, who congregated around the myriad of food kiosks and shops. Jahrae reached the market last, finally heading for the first lamppost on the far right of the market block.

As expected, Kukaeshra stood in the general vicinity of the post, fumbling with what she pretended was a shoe problem. Hundreds of people moved within 30 metres of where she stood. She carried a purchase from the store just left, as did Jahrae, but Kukaeshra’s sat with her bag on the pavement as she fumbled with her shoe. Jahrae passed, accidentally dropping her purchase next to Kukaeshra’s identical bag, and then stooped and picked up Kukaeshra’s bag, while leaving her own – with the recording - with Kukaeshra.

Once again, Kukaeshra tasked to her musical mission. She pronounced her shoe as ‘fixed,’ slipped back into it, and headed off on public transport with her invaluable if hidden new possession.

Another 3 hours passed before Kukaeshra safely sat in her secret office, about to play the recording. The first release had brought her to tears on first playback; she wondered what her emotions would be after playback of this newest song. This song was slightly longer than the first at 7:24, and as it played, the expressions that left her mouth grew from “wow” to “fucking eh! Way to go llhaesa!”

Kukaeshra found herself standing, applauding, and generally whooping it up. A few on duty personnel ran in to see what was going on, then stood there looking on curiously, watching their boss as she thrust her fist into the air, spun around, danced, and yelled out things like WOO HOO!

Finally, she stopped, just looked at the three onlookers, and smiled. J’saera was again on duty, and again Kukaeshra passed the recording to her, explaining to J’saera what she put in her hand. She had less than a minute to get back in the studio.

The two rushed down the hall into the open door studio. Kukaeshra closed the door behind her, while the on air light triggered outside, warning others away. The time wound down on the current set of songs, and right on cue, J’saera began to speak.

“I’m certain all of you out there are familiar with llhaesa t’yaeli’s release Forever, Wherever – one of three songs she recorded on the final night of her life, before that life was ripped away from her by the government’s - Brellian’s - murderous thugs. Who isn’t familiar with the song and her story now? Well, now we have the second release in our hands, ready to share with you.

I’ve not heard the recording as yet, so as with the first, I will hear it for the first time with all of you. Llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli has come to be our spiritual societal guide, who even in physical death lives on, who leads, relentlessly challenges and pushes for change, who stands by us all, who calls out ‘there is hope’ where the rest of us might only see despair. When I think of llhaesa now, I not only think of how she is the best our world has ever produced, I think of her incredible courage, kind-heartedness, and power to stand and lead without ever losing her commonality.

They took her away from those she loved and loved her, took her from us all. Yet we are about to hear from her once again – from a place Brellian would have thought impossible, from beyond death - still challenging our world to change.

It is my great honour to play for you llhaesa ahrella t’yaeli’s second of three final recordings – Corporeal Superficiality.”

All over the world, people not listening received quick messages from excited listeners to tune in to the broadcast. Within moments, an entire world listened to the newest ‘llhaesa’ (as they now commonly refer to her work) 15 months after llhaesa’s existence came to a nightmarish and abrupt end. This very same world sat enraptured by what they were hearing, stunned by the defiance and the incredible courage, but also by llhaesa’s slightly different voice style, combined with her inspired guitar play.

In that 7:24 of first time playback, the fourth world in the Arrhkan system moved one major step closer to full blown revolution.

]]> http://llhaesa.wordpress.com/?p=771 Sun, 05 Oct 2008 21:30:36 +0000 llhaesa http://llhaesa.org/2008/10/05/cxl-wandering-the-woods-part-i/ Where Jahrae loved and grew up with sailing, llhaesa grew up with and loved to hike.

After she met Jahrae, llhaesa lured her new love into hiking, taking Jahrae mostly on day trips around the immediate periphery of the city, but with a couple of weekend trips further out thrown in for good measure.

Jahrae for her part suggested for their next hike a hill strewn national forest area – J’luhre Forest Preserve - about 30 kilometres north of her parent’s home. There were countless trails, but there were also interesting rock outcroppings that rendered it possible for people to divert off-trail without causing ecological harm. Areas where there were very fragile mosses and lichens were well marked. Hikers would avoid these areas, though not all moss areas were off-limits.

The Preserve was the realm of the serious hiker, people who respected the rules for interaction with the national forest. Llhaesa fell into this category, and welcomed the chance to explore along the trails. She knew of this forest, but something else always seemed to get in the way of her getting here.

Jahrae changed that, because it was the first place that came to mind when llhaesa threw out the phrase ‘weekend hike.’

The couple decided this was indeed a good place to spend a weekend, and llhaesa took charge of preparations, giving Jahrae a list of essentials that she needed or should bring. Each put together their own pack and supplies, - other than for food, which Jahrae claimed as her province - with suggestions from llhaesa.

Since Jahrae remained a student and llhaesa was a self-employed musician, they were free to leave for J’luhre at any point they wished, though they agreed Jahrae would first attend her one scheduled class for the day.

Actually, llhaesa insisted Jahrae attend her one scheduled class for the day. Llhaesa took schooling more seriously than the mildly free flowing Jahrae. Well knowing llhaesa’s perfect record of academic achievement at the world’s most prestigious school, Jahrae was not about to put up much resistance to llhaesa’s suggestion. Reluctantly, she set off for class whilst llhaesa immersed herself in practice.

Five hours later, the two set off in their new forest green and black personal transport, a sports model they both fell in love with from the moment they saw the vehicle. Sleek, yet with ample storage room, it proved exciting as well as practical.

When registering the vehicle, llhaesa tried to obtain the registration ‘equality,’ but the government bureaucrats would not allow its usage. She then tried a simpler approach, the ‘=’ sign, and that too was disallowed, and finally accepted a basic registration, assigned at random.

Llhaesa piloted the vehicle, claiming Jahrae had use of it to go class, so it was officially her turn.

Jahrae protested good-naturedly “That was only to run to school and back, now you get to drive for an hour! No fair!” to which llhaesa looked at Jahrae with her patented wide, toothy grin, then stuck out her tongue at Jahrae in the process. Jahrae returned the expression, then angled her head over onto llhaesa’s shoulder with an accompanying “I love you, you brat!”

The drive unfolded uneventfully. Llhaesa pulled into the transport holding and registration area at J’luhre, registered and paid, then moved into her assigned space. Already dressed for the hike and completely packed, the two young women grabbed their packs and slid into the holding frames and straps, then set out for the relatively short first leg of their trip.

Since it was so late in the day in terms of remaining light, their plan was to go in about ten kilometres before stopping for the night.

Initially the land overall was flat, with relatively few of the area’s famous up hills or down hills. This changed around 8 kilometres in, with a gentle but steady upslope, as well as a change to a winding pathway.

They noted the trees along the trail as mixed deciduous initially, but with the upslope came more evergreens. At the 10-kilometre mark, they reached the planned initial stopping point, a field with a mix of rock, sand and grasses that afforded a spectacular view of the setting sun, known to Arrhazonans as Arrhka.

The hikers deployed their tent in a sandy area, not that distant from a 4-metre wide stream, but above its flood plain. They placed their packs inside, tied their food high up on a branch away from the tent to prevent wildlife from getting after the food. With this done, they made their way to an overlook and watched Arrhka sink into the west beyond high-lying clouds, the clouds serving as fodder for the colour change to come. As llhaesa and Jahrae watched, the Arrhazonan sky changed through a spectacular array of hues, from violent to indigo to gold, now mixing with a bit of green, orange, and red. Finally, the sky began to settle into a creeping blackness.

The park permitted fires in marked areas of J’luhre, places identified on maps only. Llhaesa took care to start one within an assemblage of rocks that already existed for the purpose. Jahrae prepared dinner, savoury skewers of various Arrhazonan vegetables hand picked for both taste and nutritional balance, marinated since early morning in a special sauce of Jahrae’s own creation.

As the skewers turned over the moderately small open fire, juices slowly oozed and bubbled out, falling down into a narrow catch-tray designed for this purpose. Every few minutes Jahrae would baste the vegetables with the fallen juices.

Finally, Jahrae pronounced the veggies as done, while llhaesa took that as a cue to enter their tent, re-emerging with a bottle of wine and two unbreakable glasses. The wine was of reasonably rare vintage, and some 15 years of age. It also just happened to be a Sauvignon Blanc, Jahrae’s favourite. Llhaesa had packed in the wine for the occasion of their half-year anniversary, intentionally failing to mention this added item to Jahrae.

Jahrae set the skewers on an oval shaped camping plate, and then accepted the glass proffered by llhaesa. She sniffed the wine, her eyes seemingly lighting up by the glow of the flickering fire, then sipped for taste. “Ooooooh, yum!” she offered in approval. She reached for the bottle, read the label, offered ‘wow!” and then hugged llhaesa.

As they hugged, llhaesa whispered in Jahrae’s ear ‘Happy Six-Month Anniversary!” which caused Jahrae to pull back, her face displaying how she was doing the math in her head. “Happy Anniversary! Ohmygosh, I didn’t even think of this… forgive me?”

Llhaesa laughed, and then teased. “I don’t know, you have to do some serious work to make up for your forgetfulness, J-har. I am going to think on what might be appropriate. Suggestions?”

“I could think of a few, but then you are too old to endure such things without serious time to recover, and we are in the middle of a weekend long hike. Suppose we eat?” Jahrae was hungry, but she still needed to zing llhaesa. Priorities established, she reached for the empty plates she had ready to go, and handed one off to llhaesa. The two jumped up, with Jahrae placing a vegetable-laden skewer on llhaesa’s plate.

With dinner now served, it was llhaesa’s turn to ooh and ah. Jahrae’s preparation was nothing short of mouth-watering delicious, and she ultimately ate far more than usual. It helped that Jahrae prepared far more than usual, knowing they would be famished after the hike in.

After dinner was finished, all cookware cleansed, food and cookware stowed, they settled and nuzzled close by the fire, sharing a blanket that they draped over their shoulders. Llhaesa topped off each of their glasses with the last of the wine, and then softly began to sing.

Even in the middle of a forest clearing, even with her voice held to a very low level, there was no mistaking this was the voice of a professional songstress, a voice that any listener knew carried a huge amount of reserve power behind it. For Jahrae, it was a voice of ultimate love, and there existed no sound more beautiful on all of Arrhazon.