The great hall was deathly silent. A small man, with two burly guards, stood in the center of the room. His tattered robe smelled of the dungeon he had been dragged from. Two hundred guests held their breaths, waiting for their lord to speak. All eyes shifted from the frail-looking captive to their lord, who sat in the large carved seat. His heavy leather armor, accented with silver and gold trim, bespoke of his wealth--which in this universe meant power. He evoked fear in all that heard his name, something he took great pride in.

Lord A'wrenTi sipped his wine and watched the bedraggled prisoner. Only a week earlier, this man had lived in the Mystic temple, surrounded by wealth. Mystics were normally treated with the utmost respect. It was a common belief they had enigmatic powers. Lord A'wrenTi knew they were no different than anyone else. It was their knowledge that scared most people.

Mystics spent most of their lives reading and recording events. They knew when there would be an eclipse. They told the farmers when to plant. The mystics warned when the rivers would overflow their banks. They were simple things that baffled people who found learning only took them from making a living.

He let the crowd see he had no fear of this small old man. A'wrenTi had sent the man to the dungeon as he would any other that angered him.... But what angered him the most was not the mystic, it was his people. As long as they insisted on believing the mystic, he was a threat.

Finally, A'wrenTi set his glass down and lounged back in his chair. "So, Mystic, do you still claim that I am not ruler of the universe?"

The old man's eyes slowly rose to look at his tormenter. "It is but a legend, Lord. Some believe ... some do not."

A'wrenTi sat forward and jerked his head to shake the silky, green hair off his eyes. "You were sure just a week ago. You said that I ... we," he waved his hand to the silent crowd, "the Thrux, would fade into history. Did the dungeon change your mind?"

"I have been a mystic all my life, M'lord. It's my task to see the future, guard the past, and inform you of what the stars tell me. You would condemn me for that?"

"You're saying that a puny race can cause my downfall? The Mulocks are all but history. How can they be a threat?"

The mystic's eyes shifted away from A'wrenTi's. "Only one can, M'lord."

A'wrenTi snorted in disgust. "Then we will have to make sure none survive."

The old man knelt. "M'lord, I ask you to spare them. They are our history. With the Mulocks gone ... what is our future?"

"They are not what you should be worried about, old man." He waved his hand to the guards that stood behind him. "Escort our esteemed mystic to the prison colony on Yanik." He turned his attention back to the man. "Perhaps a few months of solitude will clear your mind and help you do your job better."

When the guards left with their prisoner, A'wrenTi stood and raised his glass. "To the Thrux Empire! The true power of the universe." After the cheer died down, he turned to his fleet commander. "We have a race to eliminate ... but first we must celebrate. All work and no play makes me unreasonable." The commander laughed in agreement. A'wrenTi dismissed him with a wave of the hand. "We'll leave after the festival."

The planet was dying. In all his travels, never had he seen a planet as desolate as this one and still supporting life. Duran stood on the sand dune and looked over the crowd gathered below. Once an agreement had been reached, it had taken several months to locate and bring the few survivors to one central location. It had not been hard to convince them. The choice was a chance at life--or certain death.

Unlike other civilizations that had destroyed their homeworld through war or environmental destruction, this planet's death was not their fault. The sun had died; it was nothing more than a glowing ember in their sky. Not that you could see the sun often. Constant storms thundered over the barren land.

The people had survived by living deep in caves, harvesting dark loving plants, and eating rodents.... But there weren't enough plants. The rodents were dwindling. Like the rodents, the people would be extinct within a year. The population had once numbered in the millions. Now it was down to a mere fifty thousand

Fifty thousand desperate people, all looking to Duran for their salvation.

"They don't look like much. You think they are even worth taking, Commander?"

Duran turned his gaze to his captain. He was seriously debating sending in a request for another pilot. He did not like the man and comments like this one did nothing to improve their relationship. "These people are the strongest of this race, Podar. Look around you. This planet offers nothing, yet they survived." He turned back to gaze over the crowd. "They are worth saving."

"Of course, Sir." Though he said the words, his tone told Duran he didn't agree.

"Return to the ship and tell them to prepare for the evacuation at dawn."

"You are remaining here?"

"Yes. I would like to stay for a while longer. I will let you know when I am ready."

Duran began walking down the hill, but stopped when he heard music over the wind. Still some distance away from the camp, hidden by the surrounding darkness, he watched people dancing around a huge bonfire. They had been in such desperate straits when he had first arrived. Starving and sick--with no hope of a solution to their dilemma--they had simply existed.... And waited their turn to die. Good food and medical attention, along with the new hope for survival he offered, had breathed life back into them. Watching them dance in joy and thanksgiving made him profoundly glad he had decided to check one more sector before turning back.

It was pure luck they had been found. This was new territory. Not charted on any Empire maps. The preliminary scans of the planet had not encouraged exploration. When Duran had insisted they stop, some of his crew had not been pleased. They had been without shore leave for eight months. This trip had taken them beyond the Empire's borders and all the sectors they had seen were barren. Yolla was only a week away and was well known for the fighting arenas. His men were anxious, but Duran had contacted the Empress anyway, asking permission to explore the planet. Thank you, Empress. If you had not agreed, this race would have faded into history. I would not want to live with that.

"You must join in, Commander."

Duran spun around, his weapon drawn.

Wanub held up his hands and grinned without fear. "Forgive me. I should have announced myself better."

Duran holstered the sidearm, embarrassed. "You didn't announce yourself at all as near as I can tell. It would be advisable to do so in the future. Why are you not celebrating with your people?"

Wanub came up and stood beside Duran, looking at the dancers. "I wanted to spend some time alone ... to say goodbye." He pulled his threadbare cloak around him and looked up at the stars. His face--framed with glossy white hair--was wrinkled from age and the harsh winds ... but his eyes sparkled with excitement of hope.

Duran looked back behind them, towards the darkness. He saw no one. "Goodbye to whom?"

"To my wife ... to my sons and daughters. To my father and mother. To my ancestors and all the ghosts we leave behind." He turned his gaze up at Duran. "To the planet that gave us all life for so many eons."

Duran nodded. "I have looked at the archives you supplied. I would have liked to have been here back then ... when your cities stood tall and proud."

Wanub's eyes sparkled in the firelight. "It seems so long ago, but it was beautiful. We adore beauty and surrounded ourselves with art and colors. I look forward to rebuilding our lives on this new planet you have promised us."

"I think you will like the planet. It is very similar, with the same climate. It is pure and untamed at the moment, but supplies have already been delivered. A small city should take no more than a year to construct. From there, the sky's the limit. There are several resources unique to that planet. They will ensure prosperity for the people. You will eventually become a member of the universe and remain independent.... But first, it will take time to become self-sufficient."

"You will remain with us?"

"For the first few years, yes. I do not usually stay, but I requested to be stationed there for two years. I have traveled too much in the last six years and need to spend some time with solid ground under me."

"If you have time coming to you, why wouldn't you return home?"

Duran's blue-black hair glowed in the moonlight. "There is nothing at home for me. I have been in space exploration for ten years. All my friends have gone on to other things. The only friend I have now is the admiral. I was Rahul's captain for most of those ten years. After the skirmish at a planet called Earth, I was promoted. With my own command, I do not see him often. So ... you are stuck with me."

"You have no wife?"

Duran shook his head. "Once. A very long time ago.... She died."

Wanub touched Duran's arm in sympathy, then looked towards the dancers. "I understand that pain. We aren't as different as I first thought." He smiled sadly. "Do you save yourself for her?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've taken no other? So you can be with her when the goddess calls you?"

Duran shrugged. "Never thought of it that way. Maybe."

They stood in companionable silence, listening to the music. Duran realized it had changed. He couldn't make out the words, but the singer's soft voice mixed with the wind around him. It was a lonely sound, although he suspected it was the sadness in the voice that made him feel that way. It must be hard to leave what you know and suddenly be thrust into a whole new way of thinking. Like Wanub said, so many ghosts to leave behind.

Wanub returned his gaze to the stars. "Do you know how many times I got on my knees and prayed for a miracle?" A sad smile crossed his lips. "I watched our cities destroyed. I saw good people driven insane by the constant struggle. Still ... I admit, I am scared of change. It will be good to have someone we know and trust during this transition. We are all eager to move.... But it will still be difficult. Many are ill, and I expect many more will become ill once we settle on a planet with a sun."

Duran turned, startled, when he heard a cough behind them. A small, cloaked figure stood a few yards away.

Wanub placed his hand on Duran's hand to stay him. "It's alright. It is my daughter."

"I thought you said your children were dead."

"I had two sons and three daughters. Streena, my youngest, is the only child I have left." He looked at the cloaked girl. "Come child. It's rude to eavesdrop."

Streena slid the hood of her cloak back as she stepped forward. "I did not wish to intrude, Father."

Duran stared at her. He guessed her age to be around twenty. Her soft white hair glowed brightly in the moon's pale light. Her green eyes lifted to his.... And she glared at him. Her anger shocked Duran.

"Commander, this is my daughter StreenaJaMour. She is stubborn and opinionated, but I love her in spite of her flaws."

Streena's brows furrowed in a scowl. "Father ... really!"

"I speak the truth, child. Only the truth."

Duran broke the stare and offered his hand to her, looking down at her small hand when she hesitantly slid it into his. Her skin was a creamy, golden brown compared to his darker, callused palm. She felt soft and fragile in his grip. He released it when she tugged.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "A pleasure to meet you, StreenaJa...?" He looked at her father for help on the rest of the name.

"We just call her Streena. She was named after her mother, as is our custom. Names are very important to us. We pass them down through our lineage. It makes it very easy to trace one's bloodlines."

Streena frowned. "I really don't think he's interested in our customs, Father."

"Actually, I love history. Are you looking forward to the move?"

Streena shrugged, ignoring the question, and turned to her father. "I was worried about you. You must come back to camp."

Duran looked at Wanub, confused by her rudeness.

Wanub gave a disapproving frown to his daughter and looked up at Duran--apologetically. "If you will excuse us, Commander. We will see you when we reach our new world, if not before."

Duran bowed and watched as Wanub grabbed Streena's arm and pulled her towards the camp.

Wanub glanced back and saw Duran vanish in a beam of light. He turned to his daughter and gave her a shake. "How could you do that?"

Streena lowered her head. "I didn't do anything, Father."

"You were rude to the one man who can save us!"

"Are they saving us? Really saving us? ... Or are they enslaving us?"

"Does it matter? Without him, we are dead. Regardless of what lies ahead, we will live."

"Such a steep price we will pay. We will be their slaves ... and better off dead."

"You don't know that, Streena. Not for certain."

"Their race is larger than ours. They are more powerful. Do you think they travel the universe collecting strays? Just to improve their lives? ... And they expect nothing in return? You are a very gullible man."

Wanub watched her walk to their tent and sighed heavily. Streena is a proud, strong girl. That strength has served her well through these hard times, but now her stubbornness could be a weakness. She needs to swallow her pride and accept help from these strangers. Wanub shook his head and followed.

This is going to a difficult adjustment for all of us.