Rhagaan Tyrho comes to a sudden halt, a hand going to his ear, at about the same moment as the Station's Rytallin telepathic comm-net relays another's thoughts to me. ***Lord Fleet Marshal - we have a potential threat on a confirmed in-bound vector***, reports Jiira Surjitaal. ***It carries Imperial Temple ident beacons, sufficiently valid to get through the border perimeter, but... but it's like nothing we've seen before.***

Jiira's non-telepathic mind struggles to relay to me what her eyes can see, but it's enough. Darkhawk has already warned me about this particularly unusual vessel, and this is just what I've been waiting for - and dreading.

"Lord Fleet Marshal, it appears there is something of a complication heading our way", reports Rhagaan. "I think we may have to suspend the tour."

"Oh, what a pity", I respond, scathingly. "Will you join me on the operations deck, Commander?"

"I'd be honoured."

***Continue without me, Lai'Mari***, I instruct Josiva Sudikai. ***I am genuinely required at Command.***

***Bad news?***, asks the Rytallin.

***If I call for you, you'll know it is***, I tell her, and turn my thoughts away from words, and to that part of my self that sings whenever I'm this close to Mystalorn - the part of me that is made purely of magic. Effortlessly, I open a portal between here and the Command Deck, and Rhagaan, then I step through.

The gateway snaps shut behind us, doubtlessly stunning Rhagaan's associates from Earth, and we're immediately immersed in the intensity of the moment. "Master Warrior, our status please", I call out to Jiira as I stride over to my position. "Lapren, your report on the unknown..."

"We have all systems, all Segments on stand-by", reports Jiira. "E-Segment is next up to come to bear on the unknown."

"Take E-Segment weapons to hot stand-by", I tell her. "They'll be expecting it. Mustn't show weakness."

"Getting scans from all vessels in our vicinity", says Lapren. "Not much is showing through what appears to be some kind of cloaking field - we can't get any resolution."

"Permission to link my crew into your grid, Station Commander", says Rhagaan. "Maybe we can be of assistance. The duty captain on the Bron-Y-Aur is especially keen to be involved - a former member of Station staff of both our acquaintances..."

...and where Rhagaan Tyrho walks, a certain irrepressible individual cannot be far behind. "Lapren, give Commander Tyrho a link-channel - put his staff on Screen 3, give them simultaneous data access."

Two faces appear on the screen to the right of the main Command Deck viewer - to the left, a blunt-featured man with short hair, in a blue shirt with a gold-plated name-bar over the breast pocket that reads "Captain Greg Desmond, RAF"; to the right, a young woman with sparkling eyes and vibrant red hair in two plaits - and she doesn't need a name-badge. "Hello Pippi", I say to her. "Nice to have you with us. Do you have anything on our mystery guest?"

Pippi Korax, long-standing companion of Rhagaan Tyrho, and one of the greatest minds in civilised space, despite her apparent youth, smiles gleefully. "Great to be back!", she chirps. "Now, let me see... hmmm, I don't think that's an intentional cloaking shroud; it seems more like a side-effect of their drive system, shunting them just slightly out of normal space..."

Desmond cuts in, in typical warrior fashion, and in one of those coarse Earth accents that can be a real challenge to the ears: "Excuse me, sir, but the unknown is approaching at speed - request permission to power up the forward guns..."

Pippi turns her eyes towards what would, on the ground, be the sky. "See what happens when you leave your toys out for everyone to play with, Rhagaan?"

Commander Tyrho shrugs helplessly. "Captain Desmond, is the Imperial Temple ship approaching along an authorised diplomatic orbital vector?"

"Yes, sir", mumbles a confused-looking Desmond, "but..."

"But that's standard Temple procedure, Captain", Pippi interrupts, getting her own back. "Approach with an aggressive posture, as a gesture of strength - anyone who doesn't know that will fire on them, and only a true enemy panics like that."

Desmond clearly hates inaction, so Rhagaan gives him at least something to do. "Turn Destroyer to face the unknown as she approaches, Captain", advises the Commander, "but keep weapons at warm stand-by. We acknowledge their presence, nothing more."

He turns to me. "Do you agree, Station Commander?"

I, however, know something none of the others do, even despite the approaching ship's deceptive technology - I know there's someone on that ship who could not possibly do this Station, or her home-world, any harm. "Maintain stand-by statue, but do not engage - for any reason", I declare. "Open a comm-link..."

"Link confirmed", reports Master Warrior Surjitaal. "They at least want to listen."

A face appears on the main screen - but it's not the person I expected, or even the species I expected. The top part of the face is fairly typical humanoid, with hair, ears, and rather large eyes, but from there down to the upper chest, there is a most unusual arrangement of bluish-pink fleshy gills, like adjustable vertical light-shields on a window. The alien, apparently female, blinks, then the view on my screen pulls back to reveal the flight deck of a space vessel, and standing at the alien's left shoulder is the person I'd anticipated seeing.

I speak: "Myreena Sternwhip, Child of Mystalorn, Beloved of Tylugarna - welcome, daughter of the world we both know as home..."

The golden-haired woman, wrapped in dark leather, a sword across her back, polished brass armour and claws on her gloves, bows her head to me. "Mane-of-Night, Child of Mystalorn, this daughter, long travelled far from home, accepts your welcome, as she hopes Mystalorn will accept her return. Greetings, also, I send to Rhagaan Tyrho of Kirugar, whose presence was not anticipated."

"Nor was your arrival, Beloved of The Taloned Queen", says Rhagaan. "Coincidence, but not an unwelcome one."

"That remains to be seen", says Myreena. "Now, please arrange clearance for myself and an honour retinue from this crew to come aboard..."

The screen goes black as Myreena severs the connection - a typical Imperial Temple gesture of superiority. We're expected to comply without question - and for now, I'm prepared to do just that. Something is up, here - the closest living mortal thing to a direct representative of Tylugarna has arrived at my Station, bringing with her a completely unknown alien race - and I mean to find out why...

"The Setting Sin...? You can not be serious...!"

"The one on Ealvonhai was called 'The Rising Sin', so it seemed fitting", said Sarin as the "tour group" reached a major landmark of A-Segment; a low, many-faceted dome of darkened glass, with the contentious name in the form of a rather garish neon sign above the steps leading down to the doorway, sunken below ground level. "You're the first to ever have a problem with it, as far as I know."

"No... it's just... I kinda expected something less like Miami", said Mariella. "I'm kinda reminded of several strip-joints back home."

"Both establishments are highly regarded", remarked The Traveller. "Whatever entertainment one might seek, within legal boundaries, they're supposed to be able to provide. I guess they have to, now that the Station is a full-scale interstellar transit hub."

Whatever those entertainments might be, Mariella could only speculate wildly, but the setting certainly appeared to be up to the task. Inside the dome, the light from above - more correctly, the light from C-Segment and the Station's Central Core - shone straight through glass that was clear from the inside and illuminated an open space reminiscent of the interior of The Traveller's Vessel, The Endless Sunrise. A suspended walkway led from the doorway to the centre of the subterranean hemisphere, where the gantry formed a circle with several "arms", extending to balconies all around the interior of the space, whilst through the centre of the circle, a spiral staircase reached down to the main floor, where there seemed to be a dance-floor, a stage, couches and tables around the walls, and a circular seating area that just had to be a bar counter.

"Nice", murmured Mariella as she reached the top of the spiral stairs. This was certainly more classy than anywhere she had visited before, even with all the posters for concerts featuring bands she had never heard of, and other framed, or similarly enshrined memorabilia...

Before Mariella could articulate any further impressions to her companions, those impressions were gently nudged aside by thoughts from outside her own mind. ***Welcome to The Setting Sin***, the thoughts "said", in a woman's voice. ***I'll be with you in a moment - please, take a seat...***

The accent was clearly American, which certainly helped Mariella to settle as she perched on one of the bar-stools, and got a closer look at her surroundings. The bar appeared to be a haunt for the famous - or at least, those she assumed were famous in this part of the universe - their signatures and doodles decorating the bar-top, and sealed under a layer of plastic, and the "rock-and-roll" motif continued onto the squat column that was the "nerve centre" of the bar, with two golden guitars hanging there, taking pride of place, one with a single neck, the other with two, but both having bodies the stylised shape of a bird taking flight.

"Wow...", gasped an overawed Traveller. "Never thought I'd see those this close."

"If you've here tonight, you may just hear them, too."

It was the same voice as the one inside Mariella's head, coming from an athletic woman with flaming red hair spilling down her back, who appeared from behind the column of drink dispensers. A loosely-knotted scarf held the woman's hair back; black satin-like fabric, decorated with golden bird images - the same design as the guitars. "Uh, hi", murmured Mariella as the woman stopped in front of her, smiling. "From all this, I'm guessin' y're famous - sorry, but..."

"...you have no idea who I am", sighed the woman. "You really have been thrown in the deep end, haven't you?"

"Kinda, yeah", chuckled Mariella.

The woman extending a welcoming hand. "Jane Graham, owner and proprietor of The Setting Sin, now and again lead guitar with Thundersmith - pleased to meet you, Mariella."

"You - you know who I am...?"

"You need to work on those defences", advised Jane, leaning on the bar counter. "Especially around here, with Mystalorn so close. The planet may be a centre of magic, but it also has something of a boosting effect on psionics, even for non-Mystalornans."

Mariella suddenly became anxious, afraid that, since her arrival on the Station, she had possibly been broadcasting her thoughts to any and all able to sense them. "Oh... crap", she gasped. "Don't... don't say everyone can hear me think...!"

"You're not broadcasting anything", assured Jane, "but anyone who tried to actively read you would be able to pick up something. You're a recently emerged telepath, aren't you?"

"I only just found out I can do stuff, yeah", Mariella replied. "From what I've been told, I'm supposed to have the potential to be really good at it - haven't started my lessons yet, though."

"And your teacher is...?"

"Mane-of-Night."

Jane Graham smiled. "Ah, of course", she said, nodding as though she approved of the arrangement. "You could hardly ask for better - although she should know better than to let an untutored telepath wander around without even the basics. There are races passing through here who'd object to a novice tripping over their thoughts..."

"She didn't exactly let me wander", mumbled Mariella. "I... I kinda ran off."

"Not the best idea, especially the way things are now", said the bar owner. "Anyway, let's see what we can do..."

Jane reached over, placing her hand on Mariella's, and the inside of the girl's head suddenly felt as though it had been filled with warm syrup. ***Imagine the sum total of your thoughts, your inner-most self, as the tiniest moon, orbiting the brightest star***, the woman told her, her thoughts seeming to slide between Mariella's own. ***The light is so bright, no-one can see that little moon, let alone study its surface. It's possible to build a wall against intruders, but a wall works both ways, keeping things in, and out, but why do that when you can hide in plain sight...***

Mariella was just starting to see what Jane was describing when suddenly, Miss Graham's thoughts were no longer superimposed upon the girl's - two minds existed separately once again, and one of them had become rather agitated: ***...now what the hell is that...?***

There was barely a moment of confusion, and anxiety, then two linked minds became three as Jane made contact with another, Mariella helplessly dragged along. ***Is something wrong?***, asked Jane. ***Do we have a situation developing?***

***We have a situation, Jane, but nothing at present is wrong***, said a mental voice Mariella recognised at once. ***Central Core will issue information as and when necessary - excuse me, but is that Mariella...?***

***Hi***, whispered the girl, wishing she could become small enough to disappear from view - and not entirely sure even that would be enough to escape the wrath of Mane-of-Night. ***Look... sorry 'bout earlier...***

***That can wait***, Mane-of-Night said firmly. ***Stay where you are. We will talk later - Jane, please keep Miss da Silva out of harm's way...***

***Harm as in to herself and others?***, asked the bar-owner.

***Precisely***, replied the Mystalornan. ***Sit tight, and wait for the official word on anything that happens - do not act on your own initiative. There may be diplomatic complications. Central Core out.***

Mane-of-Night disappeared from the psychic landscape, leaving Mariella and Jane on their own, in a telepathic void. Finding the emptiness particularly uncomfortable, they both retreated to the safety of the physical world, where they found themselves face to face, gazing nervously into each other's eyes.

"That does not sound good", said Mariella.

"For now, it is not our problem", Jane told her. "Like the lady said, we sit tight - and what better place on the Station to do just that? Sit here long enough, and anyone who is anyone in these parts will walk by..."

"Sit here long enough, and maybe I could learn a whole heap 'bout telepathy, an' stuff?", suggested Mariella.

Jane laughed. "Much as I'd like to do that", she said, "I have a bar to run. I can teach you a few things, sure, but I'm not the only psionic in the room, and the one you walked in with has plenty of free time on his hands..."

Jane glanced along the bar to where Sarin sat, a leather-bound sketchbook open on the counter in front of him. "That's not the only thing he has on his hands", giggled Mariella, her words softening quickly to a whisper. "There's that dragon-bracelet thing - he talks to it!"

"Of course he does", exclaimed the bar-owner, incredulous. "The Dragonstone is an intelligent magical artefact, a relic of Ealvonhai from before the splitting of the worlds. Girl, you have a lot more to learn than you imagine!"

Mariella, amazed, looked down the bar, and as she watched, the piece of jewellery under discussion came to life. The intricate silver bracelet fastened to the back of Sarin's hand and around his wrist suddenly unwound itself, the centre-piece jewel, the size and shape of an egg, milky yellow and sparkling white in colour, becoming the body of a miniature dragon, the size of a small kitten...

"A hell of a lot more", sighed Mariella, shaking her head. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere with understanding this crazy new world, it just threw something more at her... and she was beginning to think that the only way to possibly deal with everything would be to let it all wash over her, and smile sweetly...

And there it is - our mysterious visitor, revealed at last; barely detectable against the blackness of space, a great splinter of dark, volcanic glass, with faintly glowing veins running through it, occasionally sending pulses of short-lived colour through the interior of the crystal...

"Any successful scans yet?", I ask Druvess, as the ominous craft slows, slotting into its assigned orbit alongside the Station.

"Their energy output has dropped off significantly, that much we can tell", I'm informed. "That distortion shroud has diminished almost to nothing, with occasional peaks coming at the same time as those flashes."

"And what about you, Pippi?", I ask Rhagaan's companion, currently commanding the docked combat module of the Destroyer. "Any insights beyond the comprehension of us mere mortals?"

"There are some atypical sensor methodologies I keep available, just for occasions such as this", Pippi replies, "but I'm not getting much more than you. The crystal appears natural in shape, not grown to any specification - I'd certainly like a close look, but somehow, I doubt that's going to happen any time soon. In the meantime... would you object to my being present when The Imperial Temple's new friends come aboard?"

"Pippi collects 'First Contacts'", revealed Rhagaan, smiling.

Now, why is that not a surprise? "We would welcome your expert view-point, and opinions", I tell Pippi. "Diplomatic Dock Four, ten minutes."

The woman's face abruptly vanishes from my command deck view-screen - she's certainly not going to keep us waiting - leaving me with just one concern remaining; our guests from Earth. I contact Josiva Sudikai at once: ***Lai'Mari, how are things going with our visitors?***

***Their senior officer is keeping them in line***, says the Rytallin representative. ***We're approaching The Setting Sin...***

***Good. Keep them there until we have this Imperial Temple business under control***, I advise her. ***The last thing we need is a bunch of Earthers blurting out ignorant garbage in front of our most sensitive allies. Oh, and keep them away from Mariella, if you can - I don't want them encouraging her to be even more rebellious. Mane-of-Night out.***

"Not exactly the first day back at work you'd hoped for, I imagine", says Rhagaan as he sees me close my eyes, in desperate search of a moment's peace.

"At least we haven't been attacked", I sigh wearily, my head bowing as I lean on my data-console.

"There's still time for that", warns the Commander - and even the living legend can't say such a thing without receiving my most withering glare.

Rhagaan is simply trying to defuse the tension, and to be quite honest, it does seem to be working. As we make our way to the docking bay to greet our Imperial Temple visitors, he goes even further, turning to entirely unrelated matters - or at least, what I hope are, and will remain unrelated matters. "Interesting girl, your intern", observes the former Emperor. "I presume you are aware of how... unusual she is."

In visual, or tactile terms, Mariella passes as entirely human, but the scope of a Kirugaran's senses goes well beyond the norm, even for a Mystalornan. "Fully aware", I assure him. "As is she, might I add."

"She certainly seems to be handling it well", remarks Rhagaan. "I suppose your support plays a significant part in that."

"You would think", I mutter, "but she hardly shows any gratitude for it."

"She's a young woman, presented with a whole new world", says Rhagaan. "You can hardly blame her if she finds the whole thing a bit disappointing, getting away from parents and family for the first time, only to discover she's got someone else playing 'mother'."

I hadn't thought about any of that. "Or brother", I murmur, surprised.

"Don't tell her off", advises Rhagaan. "Talk to her, don't scold her. Think of how you felt when you manifested your Soul-Self - Mariella may seem at peace with her situation now, but in time, she may start to see things differently. Trust me - I've seen situations like hers before, more times than you might think, and they do not always end well."

He's right. Damn it, he's right - Soul-Selfing was an utter joy, an Ealvonhaian girl becoming the living goddess she is now, but early on, there were times when I began to wonder how much of the real me was left, whether the change was worth the possible future anguish. I could change back, revert to my natural self - but Mariella can't. She's stuck with what she is...

By the time we reach the diplomatic docking facility, I have two worries on my mind - not exactly the solution I'd expected, or hoped for, but at least each worry leeches some intensity from the other, and neither seems quite so bad. With an injection of Rhagaan's wisdom, I'm more able to "sideline" my most pressing concerns more easily, and appear professional and in charge as the docking bay doors open, and the Imperial Temple delegation come aboard.

"The Unified Response welcomes The Imperial Temple of Tylugarna, in the spirit of peace and co-operation against a common foe", I announce as Myreena, flanked by four of her alien companions, step from their shuttle and set foot on the Station.

"The Imperial Temple of Tylugarna greet The Unified Response, allies against those who would destroy us both", replies Myreena. "May The Mistress of Talons look favourably on our alliance, and hunger for the souls of our enemies."

Myreena looks to her right, at one of her alien escorts. The woman, wearing what I recall are the insignia of a priestess in the final stages of training, steps forward, bows - and speaks. "I ssspeak for the Zel'Xarra", she says in somewhat unsettling, gurgling tones as air passes through the vanes of flesh that make up most of her face. "Asss sssworn followersss of The Imperial Temple, we greet the peoplesss of thisss region of ssspace asss alliesss."

"The Unified Response greets the Zel'Xarra, as allies, and hopefully friends, in time", I respond. "Welcome to Mystalorn space."

The Zel'Xarra priestess-to-be bows once again, and Myreena hands Pippi an authorised biological manifest, detailing the physical parameters of the Zel'Xarra, as the alien returns to her place in the ranks. Rhagaan's companion quickly verifies that all is in order - the Zel'Xarra present no biological threat to the Station, or Mystalorn - but they still submit, without question, to intensive scans required by Station procedure as their superior, a high priestess in her own right, joins me in a leisurely stroll over to the nearest view-port, where our home-world is currently rolling by...

"So, what brings you to Mystalorn in such... intriguing fashion?", I ask Myreena. "Not surely the need to introduce us to your companions?"

The woman leans a little closer. "It is not yet time, fellow daughter of Mystalorn", she says, not quite whispering. "Those who would oppose us are watching - just as we wish them to do..."

"Is there something I should know...?", I'm compelled to ask.

Myreena raises a taloned finger to her dark-painted lips. "I have already said more than I should", she informs me, cautiously. "The answer will come to those who need to know, when they need to know, in a manner of our choosing. Please, be patient."

...and one worry just overwhelmed the other, very much consigning any concerns surrounding Mariella to the very back of my mind. Patient I can be, but it will be in very short supply if this Station, and my world, are in any way threatened - alliances be damned.

...to be concluded...