To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

There was never any doubt that the meteorite was special.
	First, there was the way its approach went unnoticed until it hit the atmosphere, despite the various telescopes and observatories tracking that part of the sky.  When it did arrive, it was unmissable.  The burning line it traced through the night was caught on several video cameras, and within twenty-four hours images of its fiery descent had been broadcast around the globe.  The world watched and wondered about their celestial visitor.
	What the world did not know was that the meteorite had not burned up in the atmosphere.  In fact, it had survived its fall to Earth completely intact, an unprecedented miracle for a rock of a mere two metres diameter.  The only people who knew about that were the farmer in whose field it landed and the large, quiet men who came to take it away, and who paid the farmer a substantial sum of money for his silence on the matter.
	In the care of these men, the space-rock found its way to a high-security government facility, where it was handed over to a team of the country's most competent and, above all, trusted scientists.
	The thing's survival was soon explained - it was made entirely of a single metallic element, previously unknown, stronger than titanium and with a chemical structure that raised more questions than it answered.
	As the tests continued, perplexity and speculation mounted.  By the fourth day of investigation, it seemed as though all the rock's eccentricities had been uncovered, if by no means explained.

Then it opened.

Kris Jameson, expert in spacial phenomena, rubbed absently at her eyes as she wandered into the observation room.
	"What's it doing now?"
	Michael Rand, a geologist, glanced away from the one-way window and scowled.  "Same thing it's been doing all day.  Nothing."
	She joined him and leaned her forehead against the cold shock of the soundproof glass, staring down at the creature in the other room.  The first impression it had given, unfolding out of the rock in a sprawling mess of pale limbs and bizarre angles, was of some strange, man-sized spider.  Looking now, with the benefit of time and a sturdy window between them to increase her objectivity, Kris could see that the alien owed more to the anthropoid than the arthropod.
	It sat cross-legged, spindly arms resting on stick legs, ridiculously large hands clasped in its lap.  A bulbous, hairless head drooped forward, as though the tiny neck could not support it.  Its huge eyes were closed, and it looked uncannily like it was meditating.  What unnerved her, Kris realised, was not how alien it looked - but how familiar.
	"Enjoy the view," remarked Rand dryly.  He ambled away from the window and leaned against the 'No Food/Drink' sign, sipping from a can of Coke.  "It's probably the last look you'll get."
	Kris frowned.  "What?"
	"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?  We were brought in to study a meteorite.  Now they've got E.T. over there, what do they care about some old rock?  Martin's already told us he's bringing in some new people today.  My guess is, it's bug-prodders in, rock-biters out."
	He folded his arms with a fatalistic grin.
	Kris turned her back on him and returned her attention to the creature.  It would be good to get out of this sterile place and back to familiar surroundings, back to her normal life.  Looking down, she felt an unexpected pang of sympathy.
	...looks like I've got my ticket out of here ... hope you get yours...
	Suddenly, the creature in the other room stirred.  She opened her mouth to call Rand over, but the words died, forgotten, on her lips.  The alien turned its head towards her, and its eyelids slid back to reveal twin golden orbs that seemed to look straight into her mind.  The radiance of those eyes eclipsed everything else, yet they were not painful to look at - on the contrary, they were warm and comforting, like a feather bed inviting her to sink into them and drift away...
	"Kris?  Did you hear that?"
	She blinked, and the creature had never moved.  It still sat in tranquil contemplation of nothing, and Rand's hand touched her shoulder like an electric jolt of reality.
	"Kris?"
	She spun to face him and he looked taken aback.
	"Are you OK?"
	She ran a shaky hand through her hair.  "Fine.  I... fine.  Hear what?"
	"Martin just stuck his head in.  He wants everyone in the big meeting room in five minutes.  Are you sure you're all right?"
	"I told you, I'm fine."  She brushed past him, heading for the door on legs that needed a conscious reminder of how to function.
	Walking to the meeting, she regained her composure - but she could not blink away the lingering spots of colour that danced in front of her eyes as if she had been staring at the sun.
--
Martin Stuart was the on-site government representative; the person from whom they all took their orders, and who they were expected to obey and respect.  It was not easy.
	"Good afternoon, people.  It appears I won't be needing your services any more."  He gave them a humourless smile.  "If you'll pack up your things this evening, the bus will leave at six-thirty tomorrow morning.  Anyone failing to leave with it will be considered a risk to security and will be removed from the facility in handcuffs for questioning."  The smile was now unquestionably a smirk.  "So don't oversleep.
	"I want all your reports on my desk by six o'clock tonight, so I can pass them on to the new team."  He glanced briefly at the group of strangers standing to one side.  "And be aware that your bags will be checked thoroughly before you leave tomorrow, so don't get any bright ideas about taking souvenirs home with you.  Dismissed."
	"And how," muttered someone, passing Kris on the way to the door.  She moved to follow him out, but was brought up short by the appearance of Stuart in front of her, wearing a leer she knew far too well.
	"Ah, Krissie.  A word, please?"
	She followed him warily away from the door.  "Yes?"
	"That little announcement didn't actually apply to you.  You're staying on with the new team - we need someone who was around for the first phase to answer question and fill them in on any details missing from the reports."
	Her eyebrows shot up.  "Why me?  I'm hardly the most qualified person here."
	"You study space phenomena, don't you?  Well, the powers that be have decided our guest comes under that category.  Your can keep studying it."
	"Study what, exactly?"
	"Oh, you know."  He shrugged indifferently.  "Whatever you can find."
	As he spoke, his eyes slid downwards.  Kris folded her arms pointedly across her chest.  She knew just why he had chosen her to stay behind, and it had nothing to do with her mental assets.

The facility had been designed with sleeping quarters for long-term projects such as this.  They were all perfectly identical - matchbox rooms just large enough for a single bed and a tiny wardrobe.  Purposely designed, Kris guessed, to discourage people from doing anything in them but sleep.
	...so what the hell am I doing here?
	She switched off the light, flopped bonelessly on to the bed and lay staring into the darkness.  
	...bloody Martin Stuart, if he tries anything, I swear I'll...
	...looks like I'm stuck here, for a while longer anyway...
	...miss my own bed...
	...what the hell was that, today? ... maybe too much sleep deprivation makes you hallucinate ... never happened before, though...
	...those eyes!
	...stop thinking about it ... need distraction ... get out my book, maybe...
	...wonder how long I've been awake ... hate the way time drags when I can't sleep...
	...maybe I should try sleeping pills ... doubt they'd allow them in here...
	...those eyes...
	...whatever you can find, he said...
	...whatever you can find...
	...perhaps staying here a bit longer isn't such a bad thing...

The mess hall was deserted - as Kris had hoped it would be.  It was half past six, too late for any of the departing team still to be here but too early for anyone else to be up.  She stared blearily at the lukewarm gloop she had just ladled into her bowl, and laced it with large quantities of honey.  She carried it to a table, which already sported a large mug of coffee, and sat with her eyes closed and her face over the mug, inhaling the aromatic steam.  Her breathing slowed.  Her shoulders drooped.  Her eyes felt heavy...
	"Wake up and smell the coffee, is it?"
	Her eyes snapped open.  Disgruntled, she looked around for the source of the far-too-cheerful voice that had interrupted her reverie.  It was one of yesterday's new arrivals, a young man with a casual grin and an apple in one hand.
	He seated himself opposite her and added, "Sleep badly last night?"
	"No."  This was true - she had not slept at all.  She raised the mug to her lips, hiding her face.
	His smile faded slightly, but he was persistent.  "You're... Krissie, right?  I think that's what Martin said."
	"Kris," she growled.  Then she felt bad - after all, he probably knew nothing of Stuart's interest in her.  Lowering the coffee, she reluctantly gave up hope of returning to her comfortable stupor.
	"Sorry, and you are?"
	"Jack Correlli.  Jack."  His grin had returned.  "So, you've seen it?  The alien?  I can't wait to get my first look at it!  What's it like?"
	...what is it like? ... fragile ... trapped ... helpless...
	...but you penetrated my soul without the slightest effort...
	"What are you going to do to it?" she asked abruptly, meeting his eyes.
	He blinked, startled.  "Me?  I'm just going to talk to it!"
	"What?"
	"That's my area - languages and codes.  I'm supposed to figure out how to communicate with it.  Find out why it's here, I guess."  Correlli shrugged.  "I was told it doesn't have any obvious mouth.  Should make things interesting."
	...just look into its eyes...
	"What about the others?"
	"Most of them are extra security, I think.  A couple of biologists - they're here to keep it healthy, find out what it eats and so on."  He took a bite of the apple, and then frowned slightly.  "Find out how it eats, too, I suppose.  Why?"
	...no one  to take you apart and see what makes you tick...
	Her relief surprised her.

"Er... I will now try a modified version of Freudenthal's LINCOS language..."
	Correlli's voice betrayed his frustration, despite his effort to keep it professional.  He was in the cell with the alien, as he had been for nearly six hours straight, attempting to communicate.  The rest of the team was in the observation room.
	He had tried mathematics, sign language, flashing lights, binary code, not to mention almost a hundred different Earth dialects.  The creature remained as Kris had seen it yesterday, and showed no sign whatsoever that it was aware of having company.  Correlli was sweating.
	Two of the beefy security men, who seemed to be everywhere, stood in front of the door, although it was uncertain whether they were there to keep the alien from hurting the man or to keep Correlli from damaging their valuable prisoner.
	Kris leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn.  She had spent most of the day sitting at the back of the observation room, although unlike Correlli she had taken a break for lunch.  She could not have said what she was hoping to see, but the answer was certainly not nothing.  The alien seemed to have no interest in communication whatsoever.
	...I know the feeling...
	Her mouth twitched into a brief smile at the unbidden thought.
	With a sudden pang of guilt, she realised that she owed her mother a phone call.  Sliding out of her chair, she nodded to the security guard by the door and left quietly.

Entering the phone room, she glanced at the bank of equipment that would trace her call destination, check for phone taps, and monitor every word of her conversation for classified information.  The communications officer sitting by it smiled at her.
	"Name and security code?"
	She entered Kris's information into her computer, and then raised her eyebrows.  "First call all week?"
	"I've been busy," Kris replied shortly.
	The officer shrugged defensively, and slipped on her headphones.  "Go ahead."
	Ring, ring.  Ring, ri-
	"Hello?"
	"Hi, mum."
	"Kris, darling!  I was starting to worry..."
	"I know.  I'm sorry."
	She listened to the silence in the wires, head empty of words.
	"So... how's Bali?"
	"Oh, great.  Really nice.  I'm having lots of fun." 
	"You sound like it."  Her mother's voice was dry.  "Have you been getting enough sleep?"
	"I'm fine, mum."
	"You're tired, Kris.  Don't try and tell me otherwise, I can hear it in your voice."  A tinge of worry in her tone.
	"Well, you know Bali, it's those all-night parties..."
	"Kris Jameson," said her mother, somewhere between amusement and rebuke, "We both know you have never been to an all-night party in your life.  Are you having trouble sleeping again?"
	She glanced at the security officer, who was listening in with great interest.
	"Mum, I'm fine.  Really."
	A sigh echoed down the line.  "When will you be home, have you decided yet?"
	"I'm still not sure."
	"I wouldn't have thought sun, sea and sand could hold your interest this long..." Her tone changed suddenly.  "Unless, of course... you've met someone?"
	"Mum!" On the periphery of her vision, she was aware of the communications officer's shoulders shaking.
	"Just a thought, just a thought.  So there's no one special in your life yet?"
	"No.  Sorry."
	"You don't need to apologise to me, darling.  Just remember, you're not getting any younger..."
	Her cheeks felt hot.  "Mum, I have to go now.  I'll call when I know when I'm coming home, OK?"
	"Oh, right.  OK.  Take care, darling."
	"'Bye, mum."
	She hung up, ignored the grinning communications officer, and turned sharply to exit - only to find Martin Stuart leaning against the wall, wearing a spare pair of headphones.  The blood rushed to her face again.
	"She's right, you know, Krissie" he commented, leering.  "You could use someone... special in your life."
	"When I find someone, I'll be sure to let you know," she replied stonily, and stalked past him with as much dignity as she could muster.

By the time she reached the observation room, she was only mildly fuming.  She opened the door, just in time to see the other scientists coming to their feet with murmurs of excitement.
	"Its eyes!"
	Her heart leapt and she ran into the room, ignoring a startled exclamation from the security guard.  Pushing blindly past somebody, she stared down through the glass.
	In the room below, Correlli stood facing the alien, which had raised its face to him.  Its eyes were open.  Big, shiny, black eyes.

...black...
	...but I know it's eyes were gold ... I saw them!
	...I felt them...
	...what does it mean?
	...why won't you talk to them?
	...they're not going to keep trying forever ... they'll get bored ... stop trying ... start...
	...what am I doing? ... talking to it in my head...
	...maybe I am going mad...
	"Kris?"
	She surfaced sharply, disoriented.  Became aware of a figure looming over her, and looked up.  Jack Correlli, standing by her bed with a tray and a hopeful expression.
	"I said, do you mind if I join you for dinner?"
	Bed?  No, chair.  And table, and mess hall.  And Stuart, moving towards the table with his own dinner tray.
	Horrified, she quickly waved Correlli into the seat opposite her.  He took it with a smile.
	"Looked like you were about fall asleep on your chicken!"
	He hesitated, eyes on her face, and then quirked his eyebrows and added in a less flippant tone, "What were you thinking about?"
	Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Stuart turn away, thwarted.  Correlli had not noticed.
	"The alien," she answered simply, hoping he would not press her.
	The linguist grinned.  "Ah, of course!  So you've heard the latest wild speculations?"
	"Speculations?"
	"Simon and George" - he nodded at the biologists' table - "are saying creatures like this one might have visited Earth before.  They think that could be where the concept of angels comes from!"  His irreverent grin displayed his own opinion.
	"Angels?"  The idea had a strange appeal.  "But it doesn't have wings."
	"Well, it has those funny ridges on its back - they almost look like vestigial wings.  Besides, the original angels didn't have wings - they were added around 550 BC."
	She raised her eyebrows in surprise and he flushed, adding, "Mythology was a hobby of mine at school."
	She looked to her dinner, intending to leave it at that.  So it was a shock to find her mouth asking, "Angels are just mythology to you?"
	He looked as surprised by the question as she was.  "Well, yeah.  I mean, I'm an atheist, if that's what you're asking.  You aren't, I guess?"
	"I..." Had he asked yesterday, she would not have hesitated.  Now, confusion filled her head.  "I don't know.  I thought I was."

She dreamed of walking through the corridors of the facility, passing security officers like a silent ghost.  Found herself outside the alien's chamber.  Watched the door swing open.  Stepped through without a glance at the oblivious guards outside.
	The creature sat looking at her.  She seated herself opposite it, cross-legged.
	Its black eyes looked big enough to get lost in.  They gently invited her to speak and, slowly, she did.
	"Welcome to Earth, angel.  It's not much like heaven here."
	And then the torrent flowed effortlessly from her mouth, and she could not tell if she was speaking of her own will or if the words were being drawn from her.
	"It's a lot more confusing, for a start.  Good and evil, they've become redundant concepts.  What helps one person hurts another.  Innocent people die and murderers rule whole countries.  We call our bodies our temples, and then we fill them with sugar and fat and chemicals.  We pollute ourselves and we pollute our home.  Our whole planet is dying because we're too self-centred to notice and too short-sighted to understand, and we think because we recycle, or give money to charity, that we can somehow hold back all the things that are wrong with the world."
	Her chest hurt.  She felt light-headed.  She could not stop.  Those huge eyes were absorbing every word.
	"We can't agree on anything.  We spend half our lives hurting each other and the other half feeling bad about it.  We run around like ants in our insignificant lives, desperately trying to find some kind of meaning or order, and causing nothing but chaos.  We can't... we..."
	Her voice faltered and died as the tightness in her chest released itself.  She cried, as she had never cried before.  In her dream she cried for the world, and her strange confidant cried with her, shining, silent tears sliding across paper skin.
	...enough...
	Through her blurred vision, it seemed as though not only its eyes, but its whole head was radiating golden light.  She remembered seeing old pictures of the virgin mother and child, halos not hovering over their heads, but surrounding them.
	...sleep...
	And she slept.

	"What the hell is she doing here?"
	She drifted up from deep sleep.  Standing over her were several security officers and Martin Stuart, who seemed very angry about something.
	Slowly, she sat up.  She was in the alien's cell.  It sat nearby, eyes closed, unresponsive as ever.
	She was dragged roughly to her feet, and found Stuart's crimson face a few inches from her own.
	"You'd better have a bloody good explanation for this, young lady!"
	From a distance, she heard herself say, "All right, Martin - I guess I was sleepwalking.  Is that a good explanation?"
	She watched with vague interest as his mouth opened and closed, just like a fish.
	Finally he growled, "I don't have time for this today.  You two!  Get her out of here.  If I see her out of her quarters again, it'll be your heads on the block, understand?"
	The passageways passed beneath her feet.  The door to her room appeared before her, and was opened.  Her bed reached up to welcome her, and she accepted its embrace.
	After all, they had a lot of catching up to do.

"Kris?"
	When she woke for the second time, Jack Correlli was standing by her bed with a tray.  She sat up, trying to shake off sleep as well as a sense of déjà vu.
	"Um, hi."  He gave her an embarrassed smile.  "I thought you might like some dinner."
	She accepted the tray, still feeling sleep-dazed.  "Dinner?"
	"You know, that meal people eat in the evening?"  He chuckled at her expression.  "Kris, it's eight o'clock at night.  Have you really been asleep all day?"
	"I guess so."  She felt more relaxed than she could ever remember feeling before.
	As she started eating, Jack seated himself gingerly on the edge of her bed.  His eyes roamed her face.  For a moment she thought he was trying to say something, but then he dropped his eyes and the moment was lost.
	For a while neither of them spoke.  Finally Jack looked at her again with a mischievous grin.
	"I don't know what you did this morning, but it sure got Martin worked up!"
	She frowned, remembering.  "He did seem a bit more upset than I would have expected..."
	"Oh, he's been under a lot of stress today."  Jack's eyes were dancing.  "His top-secret project isn't so secret any more.  We've got protesters at the gates!"
	She stared at him.  "What?"
	"They've been there since early morning, a hundred or so.  A lot of them seem to be just anti-government in general, but the leaders apparently know we're keeping something in here.  I don't know how, but information's obviously been leaked."
	He laughed.  "The silliest thing is, half of them want to save the creature, and the other half want to kill it!"
	"No!"
	Startled, he touched her arm.  "Hey, calm down.  It's OK, they can't get to it from outside."
	His eyes, unexpectedly serious, met hers.
	"You're really attached to that alien, aren't you?"
	...tell him...
	"It's in my head, Jack."
	"What?"
	And she told him.  About insomnia and golden eyes.  About thoughts and words that may not have been her own.  About a dream that turned out to be real.
When she had finished speaking, there was a long moment of silence.  At last Jack shook his head and laughed softly, amazedly.
"I believe you.  It sounds utterly ridiculous, but I do.  Now there's a thing."
He stared at her.  "But why you?  I mean, here's me trying everything I can think of to communicate...  Why won't it talk to me?"
...why me?
"Vulnerability.  A mind full of doubt and confusion reaches out, is easy to touch.  Your mind is too strong, too clear."
	He laughed again, a little uncertainly.  "Hey, is that Kris talking, or the alien?"
	Kris did not laugh.  Her eyes met his with something like a physical force.
	"I'm not sure."
	Jack broke eye contact first.  He glanced at his watch and rose, muttering, "I should get going, the guard outside your door said half an hour..."
	She grabbed his wrist.
	"No!"
	The look he gave her held surprise and a little fear.  She stared back urgently.
	"Something's happening.  Martin and the biologists, a trolley, tight straps.  They're talking about opening me up!"
	"Opening who up?"
	"The alien.  I meant the alien."  She leapt off the bed.  "Jack, it's in danger!  It's because of the protesters, because we've been discovered.  They've run out of time to study it, now they're going to dissect it!"
	"Woah, slow down!  You're not making any sense!  How do you know this all of a sudden?"
	"Because it knows it!"
	"Oh."  He could not find a better answer to that.
	Then he rallied.  "So you're planning to just run down there and stop them?  This place is swarming with armed guards, remember?"
	"They won't even notice us," she said with implacable certainty.
	"Not even when we're stealing Martin's price specimen out from under his nose?  Listen, I agree with not letting your friend get killed, but do you really think he's just going to let us take it?"
	She hesitated, frowning vaguely.  Then, dreamlike, she walked back to the bed, reached under the pillow and produces two handguns.  Jack's jaw dropped.
	"Where the hell did you get those?  Are they real?"
	"Uh-huh.  I think I took them from the guards who brought me back here."  She looked bemused.
	"You think... you..." He shook his head and gave up on reason.  "...You know how to use one of those?"
	"I don't need to.  I'm not planning to actually shoot anyone."  Carefully pushing the guns into her belt, she headed purposefully for the door.
	"You're going to get us both killed, you know," muttered Jack, following her.
	She glanced back at him.  "I have to do this.  You don't."
	He caught her hand.  "Hey, I'm not letting you do something this stupid alone."
	She held his eyes for a moment.  "This is going to work, Jack."
	"Uh-huh..."

And work it did.  The guard outside Kris's door nodded to Jack as he left, completely failing to see Kris walking alongside him.  They marched through the facility without comment and found Martin, the biologists and several security officers en route from the alien's cell to the laboratory.  The guards had guns of their own and had no reason to be intimidated by two adrenalin-charged scientists, but they meekly handed over their weapons and did nothing as Kris and Jack disappeared around the corner with their prize.
	"This is insane!" exclaimed Jack as they trotted down a corridor, one on either side of the trolley bearing the alien.  Strapped down, it lay completely still, but Kris was not worried - she could still feel it with her.
	"How did we get away with that?  I feel like I'm dreaming."
	"I think..." Kris was frowning deeply.  "I think dreams have something to do with it.  In dreams, you can do whatever you want.  In dreams, a pair of boffins with guns could be the scariest thing you've ever faced.  I think that's what the alien taps into."
	"So if it's got all this mystical power, why is it just lying there?  Why does it need us?"
	There was a shout from behind them.  Looking back, they discovered a dozen security officers pounding down the passageway, guns waving.  Jack swore.
	"Looks like reality just kicked in.  Run!"
	As they hurtled around the corner, trolley and all, he finally thought to add, "Where exactly are we going?"
	His question was answered immediately - straight ahead of them lay the main exit, a large and curiously unguarded door.
	"I'll get it!" he shouted, and dashed forward while Kris attempted to slow the forward momentum of the trolley.  He flung the door wide just in time.  Trolley and woman plunged through, and immediately revealed the reason for the lack of guards - they were all outside.  The startled men scattered, revealing a wire fence lined by a solid wall of protesters.
	Jack caught up and grabbed the trolley again, and together they brought it to a skidding halt.  Shouts and chanting slowly died away as the crowd became aware of the creature strapped to it.  Then the noise redoubled, now a mingling of cheers for the alien's rescue and demands for its head.
	Breathless, Kris looked over the alien at Jack, who looked helplessly back.  There was no way they could get the trolley through this mass of people.  Tears of frustration welled, despite her best efforts to stay in control.
	...but we got so far!
	Desperately, she turned back towards the facility.  Saw Martin at the door, shouting to the security officers.  Saw guns being raised and pointed, not at her or Jack, but at their cargo.  Ran towards them, arms outstretched and tears streaming down her face.
	Something thumped into her chest, and then she was falling.

She lay on her back, vaguely surprised by the eerie silence - the noise of the protesters seemed to have stopped at last.  She saw nothing.
	Through the darkness, Jack's voice from above her.
	"Kris?  Oh god, Kris!  Hang in there, I'll get you back inside.  Hold on, Kris!"
	...hold on? ... too sleepy ... sorry Jack...
	His voice faded away.
	...that's it, then...
	...sleep...

	...NO...
	Suddenly, she could see the alien.  It stood over her, all illusion of weakness gone.  Great eyes blazed golden, and the nimbus surrounding its head was dazzling.  The ridges on its back split open like the shell of a beetle, releasing the wings.  Huge, shining, white wings.
	One long-fingered hand brushed her chest, so lightly, as those golden eyes filled her vision.
	...thankyou, Kris Jameson...
	...thankyou, Jack Correlli...
	...I will not forget you...
	The wings began to beat, in majestic sweeps that wrapped right around its body yet somehow failed to lift it from the ground.  Faster and faster they beat, until all she could see was a blur of light surrounding it.
	And then the light was gone.

"Kris?"
	She became aware of Jack's arms around her.  He was kneeling beside her, staring down at her with wide eyes.
	"I heard it, Kris."
	She sat up numbly, and his arms stayed around her shoulders.  She raised her face to him, but her eyes were caught by the night sky.
	"Look."
	He turned his face upwards and so, slowly, did the silent crowd.
	Her hand found his, and held on tight.
	Far above them, a streak of gold rocketed up through the atmosphere and vanished at last into the starry heavens.

(c) Copyright Hespa.
This work may be downloaded, but may not be printed, altered in any way or presented as thy own work.