"Okay, okay," the man tried, stalling until he could turn around to take a swing at Corth II. Big mistake, that. He ended up with broken knuckles that hadn't budged the face they struck, and wailed, "What the hell is that, a steel plate in your jaw?"

"Toreno steel to be exact, and not just the jaw, but the whole body. Welcome to your worst nightmare, friend," Corth II said as he prepared to flatten the guy.

"Enough with the showing off, children." Martha's voice rang out loudly with distinct displeasure. "Must I do everything myself?"

Not surprisingly, the heavy video camera disappeared from the man's hand, Corth II disappeared next, then Dalden and the remaining warriors followed. Martha was, after all, capable of doing almost everything herself.

A shocked silence remained in City Hall. It was finally broken by a chuckle from the fellow who still possessed his own camera, minus any film. "I'd sure like to be there when you try to explain what just happened," he told his friend. "And why you shouldn't have to replace that camera yourself."

"I'm not the only one who saw things poof around here," the other man snarled.

"What you saw was one hell of a performance that you shouldn't have gotten involved in. But if you're lucky, those magic people will return your…" There was a pause due to the camera reappearing on the floor between them. "Wanna bet the film's not in it?"

« ^ »

HE FOUND BRITTANY WRAPPED IN A TIGHT LITTLE BALL on the floor of his quarters aboard the Androvia, her back against the padded wall, her face tucked against her raised knees, her long copper hair spread like a cape around her. She didn't look up when the door slid open and then closed behind him. She was rocking slightly, and making sounds of angst.

Dalden felt a constriction in his chest. Her pain was not physical, it was mental, and he wasn't sure how he could help that.

Martha had warned him that the shock from the Transfer had put Brittany into a refusing-to-believe-anything mode. Most people had warning beforehand, knew what Molecular Transfer was, knew it was going to happen prior to it happening. And even if they didn't know it was going to happen, at least they could guess what had happened to them if they suddenly ended up in a place other than where they had been. That required knowledge of Transfer, which most of the known universe had, all except undiscovered planets like hers.

"Brittany."

She looked up instantly, her dark green eyes wide, full of fear and confusion. But then she shot to her feet, flew at him, clung to his chest. And in a small voice that steadily grew louder, said, "I was beginning to think you weren't real, that I'd dreamed you, too. You are real, aren't you? Tell me you're real!"

"Very real, kerima."

"You aren't going to disappear on me again?" she demanded sharply.

"You will never be far from me, not ever. I would not allow it."

She relaxed somewhat, leaned back to stare into his eyes, as if she might find all her answers there. She found none, but she did seem to find the reassurance she'd been in need of. She stepped away from him, agitation now taking the place of her fear, though the confusion was still rampant.

"You've got some explaining to do."

"I know," he agreed.

"You can start by telling me how I got here, and where here is."

"Martha has already told you-"

"Don't even think of feeding me that same line of bullshit that she did! It's all been a dream, and I've just woken up from it, right? I can buy that. But how did I get here to begin with, and when? Last night? So everything that happened in City Hall today didn't really happen, you didn't fight Jorran with swords, didn't get wounded-no, of course you didn't. There's no cut on your chest.

She was staring at his chest triumphantly, thinking she'd just managed to confirm everything she'd just said. "The cut was there, but is now gone," he was forced to tell her. "Such is the amazing ability of a meditech, which I was Transferred into upon arrival here."

"Dalden, are you okay-mentally? You don't really believe that nonsense, do you?"

He smiled at her concern for him. "You were told that all would be revealed to you after our task was completed. The time for answers is now."

"Then start telling me the truth, because this science fiction crap just doesn't wash. And you can start with where we are."

"In my quarters aboard the Androvia."

"Aboard as in-on a ship? Quarters without a bed or bathroom? Sure."

In this case, it was much easier to show her than convince her. He took her hand, pulled her over to the Sanitary wall, and pressed a button there. Walls immediately enclosed them in a small area, a toilet and sink slid out, the circular shower rose up from the floor to fill the corner, and a ledge dropped down with other amenities, including access to the dial-up closet. He took a moment to dial a light blue tunic. It was delivered in less time than it took to don it.

While she was staring incredulously at everything that had been revealed, he pressed the button to send it all back into concealment and dragged her over to the other corner of the room. Pressing the button there slid out new walls, and a section of the floor flipped over, leaving a narrow bed in its place that would adjust in size once someone laid down on it.

These, too, he sent back before he said, "I feel confined here, which is why I do not leave these things out, but send them away until they are needed. I am told it is designed to make these rooms seem bigger than they are."

"I get it," she said, finally looking at him again. "This is a movie studio, right? Props, make-believe stuff that isn't really real."

He sighed. He had known this would not be easy, but he hadn't thought it would be impossible.

"You search for any answer but the truth," he told her.

"Show me Proof!" She was getting agitated again. "If this isn't a studio made to look like a ship, show me what's outside of it."

"This room has no windows."

"Correction." Martha's voice came through on the audiovisual ship's intercom on the wall, proving she was in standby assistance mode. "Knowing how much you hate being reminded of what you're traveling in, Dalden, the windows were never revealed to you."

The walls began to move again, in Martha's control this time, opening up a long bank of windows made of something other than glass that revealed nothing but water and a lone fish swimming past.

"A submarine?" Brittany said in surprise, but then she frowned and added skeptically, "Or a large tank of water. You call this proof?"

Dalden growled in exasperation. Martha chuckled. "Give it up, kiddo. She doesn't require proof. She already knows what she's dealing with, she just refuses to accept it, and no amount of words will change that."

"Because aliens are a myth, perpetrated by the UFO craze!" Brittany shouted for Martha's benefit, but then she rounded on Dalden and slapped her palm against his chest. "Look at you, you're flesh and blood, you've got all the right parts in the right numbers, even if you are a bit big. There's nothing alien about you!"

"It pleases me to hear you say so," he replied. "This name you have for off-worlders is only slightly more tolerable than what I am usually called."

"He's referring to the name barbarian," Martha supplied. "It's how the rest of the civilized universe views his world, not because of the way his people look, dress, or even that they still fight with swords. It's their overall outlook, their primitive laws, their stubborn adherence to tradition that's outlived its time."