:There's just something about flying that tires you out,: Vathion thought at Jathas. He stood staring at the crowd that had swallowed his mother and her escort.

:Or maybe you didn't sleep last night.: He sensed a bit of resentment in Jathas' mind-voice.

:Sorry. I really didn't mean to roll on you.: Jathas was probably right. He rubbed his eyes.

The flight up from the planet had only been an hour. The gravitational dampeners had prevented the passengers from feeling the effects of exiting the atmosphere. However, the psychological effects of leaving the planet had made Hasabi nauseous despite her medications. Even now, Vathion could tell the subtle difference between the artificial gravity and Larena's. His feet felt sticky here, rather than a full-body pull.

That, coupled with the abrupt parting with his mother, left Vathion feeling adrift. Like that time he'd nearly drowned on Mirith's family boat trip.

Only a few moments ago, a man approached them. Without a word, he'd pulled Hasabi into a hug. In response, Hasabi nearly burst into tears, and after letting her go, he offered his hand to Vathion. "Ha'Vathion. Good luck."

Wincing slightly, he shook the man's hand. "Thanks. Take care of her."

"I will," he agreed and took some of Hasabi's bags.

Still, long after they had disappeared amidst the crowd, Vathion could not think of anything non-corny to say other than "send me lots of pictures" or "make sure to wear sunscreen." He knew he should have been hugging her and telling her he loved her and that he would miss her. But he knew it was all a lie. He would never see his mother in person again. At least, until they sent her funeral urn to join Natan's on his shelf.

"Excuse me!" a female exclaimed, and Vathion turned to face a middle-aged woman wearing a skimpy black dress. Her gray-streaked blue hair hung in loose curls around her shoulders. She smiled alluringly at him. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. She leaned closer and sniffed rudely. "It really is you! I hope you remember me just as fondly!"

Sliding back a step, he nearly tripped over his luggage and belatedly straightened and cleared his throat, "Ah, no. No clue who you are. Sorry, but I've got a transport to catch!"

She reached for his arm, "Oh! Leaving so soon! But I haven't seen you in forever! Natan!"

"Ha'Vathion," another voice said, and both the woman and Vathion turned to look at the man who now had imposed himself between the woman and her poor, unsuspecting prey. The man, who was an inch shorter than Vathion but twice his weight. More notably, he wore the Natan Fleet uniform. His maroon hair, streaked with silver, was tied back in a tail. He snapped his hand down after holding his salute for a second. "I am Se'Zandre; your transport is waiting, sir."

Vathion caught a hint of Zandre's personal scent, wafted by his salute, and quickly identified it as family if removed slightly. Back in slightly familiar territory, Vathion collected his wits and nodded. "Lead the way." He grabbed a few bags, leaving the rest for Zandre. He really had not expected anyone to meet him, but at the same time, it wasn't surprising. :Guess I should have known they'd send someone. I'm not just another kid now.:

:You were never 'just another kid', Vath, despite how hard you tried,: the Hyphokos said.

Along the way, Vathion spotted a board that listed the shuttles in the bay they were entering. The Natan Fleet transport had been there for an hour, and of course it had attracted attention. He was suddenly very grateful to his mother for insisting he wear something presentable as he spotted an Ika Station News reporter standing at the edge of the crowd. The woman was giving a report that there had been no comment from the station other than that it was scheduled for a pickup. She paused to look beyond her camera at Zandre and Vathion.

She hurried forward immediately, even as the two tried to change course to avoid contact. "Sir! Wait!" she shouted desperately and caught up when Vathion and Zandre were blocked by the crowd of curious onlookers. Vathion could see the transport parked in the bay ahead, so close, yet so far.

"Sir!" she called again as her camera bobbed up beside her, pointed at him. He was sure he looked absolutely terrible on Vid and likely it was live. She stumbled to a stop when he looked at her. "You're not Ha'Natan—?" she asked, interposing herself between him and the crowd. Vathion controlled his face, removing the death glare he knew he'd greeted her with.

"I'm Ha'Vathion." It was better to get them straight on his name and new title right off, then he glanced around finding Se'Zandre waiting for him patiently, looking grim and daunting. "Look, I've got to go. We'll probably meet again later."

"Wait! But—does that mean you're—"

Lifting a hand, he placed a finger over her lips and grinned desperately at her. She was young, perhaps twenty-five or so, and blushed quite prettily at him, obviously besotted. "I have to go," he told her, and hoisted his bags to shove though the crowd. "Scuze me! Sorry!"

Quite drained already and knowing this was only the beginning, Vathion dashed for the transport after Se'Zandre. Thankfully there was no further delay, for the door automatically opened as Zandre neared it, then closed directly behind Vathion.

Jathas was cackling in his mind.

Vathion reluctantly admitted that it had been funny, just a bit. Turning, Vathion looked over the cabin of the transport and slid aside as Se'Zandre went past. Looking grim and efficient, the security man stowed Vathion's bags.

"What's in this? Bricks?" he asked, grunting as he heaved one.

Sighing, Vathion shook his head, "Close. Books." Zandre turned to look at him, and Vathion shrugged helplessly. "Mom helped me pack. Needlessly."

After a moment, the guard snorted what may have been a laugh, then stalked over to take the bags Vathion was still holding and stuffed them away too. "Pick a seat. Get comfortable, it's going to be a long ride."

Wandering down the row, Vathion picked the front row, since it had the most leg room and flopped down. After a moment, he shifted, feet stuck in the aisle. "They don't make these things for people with long legs, do they?"

Zandre shook his head and glanced back as he slid into the pilot seat, "Not really." He glanced aside. "Look. There's something fishy going on. I don't know what it is. Or was."

Snorting, Vathion lounged back in his chair as best he could, "Oh really. And when is there not? Especially when Natan is involved?"

It took a moment for Zandre to answer him, for he was speaking on the comm to station, informing them of imminent departure and the need for crowd control so they could leave. Finally, Se'Zandre swiveled his chair around. "Your father didn't let me in on his plans. Probably because he knew I'd be against them. So I don't know what really happened. Just know me and Logos are on your side. We'll be giving you the same trust we gave Natan. Unless you prove us wrong."

Wow. No pressure. Quirking his lips sourly, Vathion scrubbed a hand across his eyes, "Reassuring. Thank you, Se'Zandre."