"A mistaken memory. Turned out to be a thing far worse. I always dreamed about it just before something horrible was about to happen."

Eight hours later. Four hours until the peace talks.

From the communications chamber in the orbiting council headquarters above, Tyran watches the preparations on his monitors.

"Just four hours now," he says.

Shi stares down at the moon itself. Just four hours, she thinks.

One hour later.

Myles still sleeps while Rozar speeds around readying his people for anything that might go wrong.

Rayn can see him from the galleria. Rozar, still as intense as his eyes. She was like him, but wished to be more like Myles. She wonders who she would have been like if her parents hadn’t died. If her world hadn’t self-destructed. Did his Lowland green-clad rebels make her this way? Did the Council? Did he? Did she? Roz sees her. He comes to her.

They stand at ease, eyeing each other cautiously. She still doesn’t trust him. Didn’t Meena dream of betrayal just before they met?

"You came."

"I did. But not for this."

He lowers his eyes. He nods. "I see. I’d better get back to work then." He turns and walks away. Over his shoulder, "There’ll still be a high-ranking place for you by my side in the Peacekeepers when you choose to return."

"I won’t."

"You will. I would. We’re tired of this, but it’s all we know."

Shi watches as Tyran speaks with their father.

"The Green rebel leaders will be dead and there will be no one to stop--"

Onar’s thought-controlled wheelchair spins as he screams back at him, "Better not be! Kill 'em all, anyone who stands in our way! Gotta trust you! If the frazshing first plan hadn’t been bungled and Mala’s girl hadn’t died wouldn’t even need you!"

Shi looks at her father. No one else knew about his condition. They were the only ones allowed in here -- she saw to that. The greatest of minds. Now feeble, senile, ranting nonsense. She sighs. If only the first plan had worked, this wouldn’t have happened.

One hour later.

"There you are!"

Rayn finds Kindra near the stands as the opening ceremonies are about to start. All the most decorated surviving units, including theirs, had been invited to bear witness to the end. They talk. Kindra, mostly speaking and joking. Rayn, mostly listening and smiling to herself. As always. Then Kindra turns to her.

"So which is it to be? The power, or the boy."

"What? How . . . ?"

"Noma’s in requisitions until she can get started on her new bar, the Din Mark II. She saw the two shuttle passes from each of them for your name. Gossiped me. I eavesdropped the rest. Look, we’ve known each other years, right?"

"I’ve never known anyone longer . . . or better."

Kindra smiles. "You’re an idiot know that?

"Oh thanks. Why exactly?"

"For starters, you’ve got everything and no clue what to do with it. You’ve only ever let yourself be the fighter, survivor, warrior. Going with Myles is your chance to be--"

"What? A woman?"

"Please. You may not ever stop to notice but you’ve got that one covered. I meant human."

"Thanks again."

"You’ve got all the choices. The good boy or the good job. Pick one." She smiles wider. "I’ll take the other."

Shi stands behind Tyran in the Tomorrow room.

"Father didn’t mean the things he said."

"Really. Do you trust me?"

"Trust and love aren’t the same thing. I trust no one."

At that, he glances curiously at his little sister. Then he sighs, tired, wishing only for all this to be over and then for the bed of Wu, his favorite mistress. "One hour."

Thirty minutes later.

The ceremonies begin. The holo-cameras run. Tyran sits between the Purple Highland officers and Council members at the corner of the enormous triangular table’s three points of alliance. The corners, seats of former double dealers, are now the thrones of hope. Hope for agreement with all secrets supposedly exposed and on -- or at -- the table. Myles, Kindra and Rayn are in the stands. The air fills with expectation, and something else.

Rayn sits as silent as night, body rigid, arms crossed. Observation mode. Her senses had always seemed somewhat heightened, something that had saved their lives countless times in the war. When she concentrated it was as if she could almost feel danger. Smelling fear pheromones and sweat, catching with the corners of her eyes those dangerous, quick, small surreptitious movements.

Something is wrong. She goes to look for it.

She soon finds it.

There, down on the main floor, a red flash reflected in the wall’s metal border. She looks up. She strains her eyes. She sees them. Tiny mini-laser canons, hidden above the broadcasting cameras’ nook along the walls, pointed to the High side of the table, capable of boiling all the delegates alive.

Rozar is with the unarmed security forces behind the Greens. Rayn wonders if he could have done this. Hardly breathing, hoping her suspicions are wrong, she catches his eye. He slips over to her. She grabs him and shows him what she found.

"You did this!"

"I . . . no." He shakes his head. That night they spent together in the cave, long hours, trapped, fighting, arguing, understanding. . . . "How can you think I’d do something like this?"

"Because if I felt as justified as you do, if I was still sure that your rebels killed my family, I might--"

"But you’re not sure anymore?"

"Not about anything. That includes you!"

He wants to tell her that she was right. That he had tried to smuggle in weapons just in case of trouble, but failed. He wants to confirm how well she really knows him, how alike they really are. But some of that was in ways she still shrank from. So instead he looks up.

"By the sky!"

He finds them, other lasers, aimed at the Low side of the table, his side.

Rayn follows his gaze. "Who then? The Council?"

Then they see the rest, three sets of timed-detonation lasers aimed at each of the table's three sides.

Rayn whispers, "All sides? Who’s left then? Who would do this?"

In the background the speeches begin, "Now, on this serene world, is the start of a new day for our people. A new direction. Peace. From here we will begin again, together."

Rozar is about to yell over the cheers. She grabs his arm.

He stops. "You’re right. There’d be panic."

"And if we start something now, whoever might go ahead and set them off. Could cause them to overload, killing everyone."

They look around for suspicious behavior. They find it when Tyran is suddenly -- reluctantly -- called away.

"Here." Rozar hands her a communicator. "I’ll follow the lasers, see if I can neutralize them."

"I’ll follow him."

They look into each other’s eyes for a long moment they know they don’t have to spare. They part.

At a distance, Rayn follows Tyran back to his shuttle. She distracts the guards with a noise and jimmies her way into the shuttle’s maintenance hatch. She then squeezes her way through the vents to the bridge. She looks at it through the vent’s bars. There, below, stands Tyran yelling at some pale woman on the monitor.

"What is it?!"

"It’s time!"

Tyran is just as surprised as Rayn when the pre-programmed auto-pilot yanks the ship up the lunar hook towards council headquarters.

Rayn is cram-packed in the vent with nothing but her claustrophobia. For her, there is no way out, no way back, and no way to know what will happen next.

Next week - Episode 8: Predator, Now Prey