“Rog, have you seen Von?” asked Kyra, standing before the forward viewing area of the bridge, her lithe frame in remark against the vast coldness before them.
“Can’t say I have.”
“Yul?”
“Nope.”
“John?”
“Negative.”
“Where is Zoe?”
“Resting,” said Trev.
“Snazzle, can you locate Von?”
“Yes Ms Kyra.”
“Snazzle. I’d like you to do it now.”
“Von’s location identified.”
“Where?”
“On Bravo.”
“Snazzle, do you like your circuits?”
“He is in the third quadrant, lower level.”
“Snazzle!”
“The log room.”
“Janus! Pull up a visual. Now!”
“Yes Captain.”
Before the crew, amphitheater spread, a life-sized hologram glowed in the center of the bridge. Von, cropped white hair, whey robe, piercing blue eyes, sat, headphones on, slate before his undivided attention. Images of the Dyad flickered. Flashes of red and blue las fire punctuated the pitch of endless endlessness. The Dyad bobbed, bloodied, defenseless as a child before sharks. Von played it again, slower. Panning the capture, he zoomed in on a small object, pushed a few buttons to manipulate the image.
“Get me a line in,” barked Kyra.
“All lines are disabled.”
“Override.”
“Negative.”
“Bypass.”
“Negative.”
“Rog, get down there.”
“Corridor is sealed,” replied Snazzle.
“What do you mean sealed?” asked Kyra.
“Von has disabled all access to the lower level.”
“How?”
No answer.
“Snazzle. How is that possible?”
“It can be done.”
“I know that. I want to know how.”
“Technically, it is rather complex.”
“I am aware of that. How did Von do it.”
“He asked.”
"He what?”
“He asked.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
Kyra drew a breath as one draws water from a deep well, the sound of her nails tapping the railing like the clacking of a wooden bucket against wet stone.
“Unseal the corridor.”
“I can’t.”
“Won’t?”
“Can’t?
“Snazzle, unseal the corridor.”
“I gave Von the codes. He changed them.”
“Emergency override, by my authority.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Kyra charged her las and lifted it to the panel.
“Captain, that won’t be necessary either.”
Kyra’s finger tightened.
“Von is coming out. See for yourself.”
Kyra turned back to the hologram. Von was moving deliberately, solemn as a monk at vespers, expressionless as their statues of adulation, his face hued marble. “John, where are your men?”
“The bar.”
“Have them secure the area.”
“I don’t think--”
“I’m not asking you to think.”
“Kyra,” interjected Snazzle.
“What!”
“Von is not heading to the bar.”
“Where is he heading?”
“Here.”
------------
Von placed one foot before the other, peace stamped upon the universe as effort honored mind and heart held soul in arms wide and large as those one grey and rainy day. Honor the son as the son honors the father, the world entire in the circle. A step for a letter. Honor. Love. Step. Honor. Love. Step. Rain upon eyes urgent. Honor. Love. Step. Arms open. Arms open. Embrace the Love. Arms open. Honor, Love. Step. Leave your mark. Do your duty. The name, father. I will honor the name and where there is need I will be there, in your name. Arms open. Arms close. Hearts together. We are brothers, you and I.
----------
“Roger, Roger, do you read?”
Static.
“Von, do you read, over.”
Static.
“Raptors 10 o’clock. Multiple bogies. Bearing south by southeast, forty-five degrees.”
Static.
“Von, we are under attack. Do you read? Over.”
Static.
Thunder on the plain. Skies above blue as china. Water churning red, screams as prayer unanswered. Air heavy, eyes limpid as dolls. Silence as verdict.
“Von, this is Zeke. Do you read?”
“Zeke, I read. Over.”
“Come home Von.”
----------------
“What's he doing?” asked John.
“Don’t know,” answered Kyra.
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