Author's Note: Characters and concepts are the creative property of Savin Yeatman-Eiffel and Sav! the World Productions.

This is a collaborative work between me and Queenbean3.

Chapter Six: Wrathful Like Wolfram by MasterOfThePen

The general sat at his mahogany desk, hands folded neatly as he listened to the report. There were papers scattered across the desk beside the general's black cap. The shattered sword lay before him, along with its scabbard. Silence pervaded the small office. The general removed his reading glasses and stared at the three lieutenants with cold gray eyes, smooth and unfeeling as two polished mirrors. He leaned back in his leather chair, taking in the pathetic scene. Dressed in their drab dress uniforms, Reinhard, Joaquin, and Boris stood stiffly at attention, any indication of their wounds hidden beneath their clothing, save for the bandage wrapped around Boris's head.

"Is this all you have to report?" the general said, flicking a strand of hair from his face. His black hair was slicked back against his skull, streaked silver at the temples.

"Yes, sir," Reinhard said. The steely eyes held him, pinned him in place as the black brows converged. Not a good sign.

"You let them escape," the general said. He placed his hands on the desk and stood. "You let the Messiah fall into the hands of our enemies, and they slipped right through your fingers."

"General Wolfram-" Reinhard said, but the gray eyes flashed and his voice caught in his throat.

"You three are my most trusted lieutenants," Wolfram walked around his desk and stood before the three men. He paced before them, like a predator on the prowl, hands folded behind his back, and watched them out of the corner of his eye. "You were each hand-picked to be my personal guards because you possessed skills no one else had, and you return to me empty-handed?" He suddenly spun on his heel and faced Reinhard. "Why?"

"Sir, as we explained in our report, there were powerful aliens protecting her," Reinhard said. "A Byrussian, a Phils, and one other. He seemed human, at first, but he possessed what appeared to be mechanical wings. I have never seen anything like it before."

"Three aliens," Wolfram said. "You had command of an entire squadron of Einherjar, and you still failed to bring the Messiah into custody?"

Before he could answer, Wolfram brought the back of his hand swiftly across Reinhard's cheek. The other two flinched visibly at the cracking sound of flesh striking flesh. Reinhard staggered back and put a hand to his face. The general seemed to grow taller in stature, his lips pulled back from his sharp teeth in a snarl.

"Show me your right hand," Wolfram said. Reinhard stretched his hand outward. The general seized it, ripped the glove off, and raised it before him. "What is this?"

"A signet ring, sir," Reinhard said, gasping beneath the general's crushing grip.

"What organization does it represent?"

"The Order of the Knights Templar." The others could clearly see the silver ring. There was a red cross engraved in white enamel.

"You dare to wear this ring and call yourself a Templar after you failed to protect the Messiah from those godless monsters?" Wolfram gave a cruel wrench to Reinhard's wrist. The younger man cried out.

"F-forgive me, general- Ah!" Reinhard fell to his knees as Wolfram twisted his arm.

"It is not me whom you should beg forgiveness. Only God may grant forgiveness to those who deserve it."

"P-please, oh Lord, I beg of you, forgive me." Reinhard drew his breath in sharply; the pain was becoming unbearable. His arm would surely break if this continued. "I am weak and in need of guidance. Please, show me the way."

Finally, Wolfram released his hold and Reinhard clutched his injured hand to his chest, tears shining in the corners of his eyes. He sat there, hunched over, head bowed. His entire posture was one of a child who had just been chastised by an authoritarian parent.

"I do not accept failure lightly, Lieutenant Eisenberg," Wolfram stared down at the young man crumpled on the floor. "But God, in His infinite mercy, has seen fit to spare you. You have not yet fulfilled your true purpose."

Wolfram turned his attention to Boris. He paced slowly toward his next victim. His eyes narrowed at the giant of a man towering above him. Boris shifted nervously beneath that penetrating gaze.

"Kneel, Lieutenant Kerensky," Wolfram said. Boris blinked, hesitating at the odd request. Mistaking hesitation for impertinence, Wolfram formed a fist and struck Boris just below the diaphragm. The huge man let out a gasp, the air knocked from his lungs. He clutched at his gut, head bowed over in pain.

"I said: kneel," Wolfram tugged at the glove on his right hand, ready to strike again should the brute defy him once more. "I want to look into your eyes when I speak to you."

Boris slowly lowered himself, careful not to put a tear in his already strained uniform. It was a wonder he hadn't popped a seam before now.

"You are physically the strongest of all my Einherjar," Wolfram said. "I have seen you crush stone with your bare hands. Your stamina is inhuman. You can outlast any man in a fight, and defend yourself against dozens of foes simultaneously. So tell me, how is it that my strongest fighter along with a squadron of Einherjar, failed to defeat three pitiful aliens?"

Boris coughed and managed to find his voice. "Sir ... The Byrussian is very strong. Boris could barely stand against such strong enemy-"

"Enough," Wolfram said with a curt wave of his hand. "I can see now that I was wrong about you. I knew your father when I was still a student in the academy. He was a highly decorated officer, and a superb fighter pilot. He fought against the Crogs twenty-five years ago."

"Yes, and my brothers fought by my papa's side," Boris said, finally catching his breath. "They would not let me fight because I was youngest son. They tell me to stay behind to take care of Mama, but I want to fight with them. My papa and my brothers died before I could join war. The Crogs took them from me, and I could not make revenge on them."

"Your father was a great man, as were your brothers. They died valiantly in battle. Even when they were hopelessly outnumbered, they stayed behind and fought the enemy to the bitter end. You were bred from the same stock: you share their noble blood, and yet you shame their memory with your weakness."

Boris closed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists. "No! I will not shame my papa or my brothers. They make great sacrifice so I may live. I will avenge them, and bring honor to my family."

"You shall have your chance," Wolfram said. "God has a plan, and you have yet to play your part."

Boris continued to stare at the floor, hatred burning in his azure eyes. Wolfram left him to his memories and approached the third lieutenant. The general stood before Joaquin and noticed the slight curl of his thin lips. He had been enjoying watching his companions suffer, but now that he was confronted with the general, his face took on an expression of calm submission. Wolfram looked him up and down, sneering in distaste. The long blond hair tied back in a loose ponytail, the silver studs in his ears, the long lashes and delicate hands: they were all an affront to Wolfram's dignity. Fear entered into Joaquin's pale blue eyes as the general snatched an handful of hair and yanked the screeching young man to his knees.

"And you, Lieutenant Delacroix, my pretty little pet," Wolfram forced Joaquin's head back so their eyes would meet. "My personal assassin, my 'Angel of Death,' you who kill by my command. You return to me, broken and defeated, and not one of your enemies was slain?"

"No, sir," was all Joaquin could say before Wolfram jerked at his hair again.

"How old were you when you killed your first man?"

"Eight years old, sir," Joaquin said. He grimaced with one eye squinted shut.

"How many have you slain?"

"The blood of countless victims has stained my hands, sir. I know not how many lives my daggers have cut short."

"You were trained since birth to become my personal assassin. When I mark a target, they die before twenty-four hours has passed. Faster than the wind, you strike without warning, and your victims fall before your blades like grass before the scythe. Tell me, how could you let those monsters live once I had sounded their death knell?"

"These were no ordinary aliens, sir," Joaquin said, his hands twitching spasmodically, not daring to loose the general's hold on his hair. "These were demons ... We tried to stop them, but our weapons were useless against them. They were too powerful ..."

"Your excuses are most pitiful," Wolfram released his hold on the young man and Joaquin sighed in relief, hanging his head in shame. "Perhaps if you were a more pious man, you might have realized that God gives strength to his soldiers when they need it. You have been specially chosen among your brethren to become His tool, His instrument in these last days. But a tool that has become rusted is no longer useful. Let your faith temper the steel of your soul. You are still needed to complete God's work."

Wolfram turned his back on the three lieutenants kneeling on the floor, eyes cast down, pain and anguish filling their hearts.

Reinhard managed to raise his eyes toward the general. "Sir, permission to speak freely."

"Permission granted, lieutenant," Wolfram said over his shoulder.

"Sir, I wish to know why we have been ordered to apprehend this girl, this Eva Wei." He rose to his feet shakily, still holding his injured wrist. "You called her the Messiah."

"Indeed," Wolfram remained with his back turned to them. "She has been chosen to rescue humanity from the cruel fate that awaits at the end of days."

"The end of days?" Reinhard's eyes widened. "The Apocalypse? How do you know?" Boris and Joaquin also raised their heads, but did not stand.

Wolfram turned to address them. "It has been revealed to me. God's messenger has told me of the destruction of all humanity if we should fail to capture the Messiah. The Earth will not perish in a sea of flame, as many claim to believe. No, the minions of the Devil shall not strike from the bowels of hell, but from the stars." Wolfram waved a hand at the window, toward the sky. The sun was dipping below the horizon, staining the landscape crimson. "The Crogs will become the scourge to raze our cities and defile our planet. They shall wipe out all traces of our culture and erase any mention of our civilization from history. It will be as if we had never existed."

"How can such little girl save us?" Boris said.

"She possesses the ultimate power. Whoever attains control of the Messiah gains control over the course of destiny."

"You can't expect us to believe that," Joaquin said. "How can one girl hold the fate of the entire human race in her hands?"

"I find your lack of faith most disturbing," Gray eyes flashed, and Joaquin backed down. "You three serve a higher calling; never forget that. The blood of billions will be on your hands should you fail in your mission."

"Do not be so harsh with them, General Wolfram," a melodic voice said. The three lieutenants looked about wildly, but Wolfram turned toward the far corner of the room, his face an impassive mask. The others followed his line of sight and a shining white figure appeared within the shadows, filling the room with light. The others shielded their eyes from the radiance.

The light faded to reveal a tall figure dressed in red robes, his face obscured behind a heavy cowl. White wings sprouted from his shoulders, and white feathers adorned the collar and sleeves of his robes. Reinhard fell to his knees, pressed his forehead to the floor. The glowing figure stepped toward the three lieutenants and pulled back the hood of his robes to reveal a chiseled face framed by long black hair. He stared at them with dark eyes, a solemn look on his face.

"Do not avert your eyes, Reinhard Eisenberg," the angelic figure stooped and lifted the young man's chin. His face was reflected in the emerald depths of Reinhard's eyes, full of awe and shame. "Look upon me without fear."

"You ... are you an angel?" Reinhard said.

"I am the Archangel, Michael," he said. "I have been watching over you, Reinhard. I know that your family has served as Templars for many generations. You have been chosen to do God's work, chosen to protect mankind from the threat of annihilation by the servants of the Devil: the Crogs."

"Forgive me. I failed in my mission. Please, give me one more chance to prove myself. I know the burden is heavy, but God shall give me the strength to bear it."

"God is most pleased with you, and you have his forgiveness," Michael said and removed his hand. He approached the desk and picked up the hilt of the broken broadsword. He gazed thoughtfully at the jagged blade and waved it in the air. The light glittered from small rubies embedded within the pommel. "Your sword shall be reforged and given a new name. This weapon, stained with the blood of heathens and unbelievers, shall become the bane of demons who seek to destroy humanity. It is one of many blessings God has seen fit to bestow upon you."

Reinhard stood and crossed himself, tears shining in his eyes. They were no longer tears of shame, but joy. "Thank you. God is truly merciful."

The Archangel gestured to the other two. "Arise, Boris Kerensky. Arise, Joaquin Delacroix." They rose to their feet, their eyes cast down respectfully. "You two are also forgiven, and shall receive gifts which shall aide you in your mission. When the time is right, I shall bestow these blessings upon you. You must continue to persevere, for your goal is still far before you. Have faith in yourselves, and in each other, for you three have been chosen to do God's work. The fate of the Earth rests on your shoulders. Do not forget that. You must rescue the Messiah, or humanity will perish."

The Archangel smiled warmly, his body glowing once more with blinding light, and vanished. The three lieutenants continued to stare at the space he once occupied with looks of awe. Wolfram smiled knowingly and stepped forward once more. "Now you understand the gravity of your mission."

"Yes, sir," the three men said in unison.

"Prepare for departure. We must pursue the Messiah, even if we must chase her across the galaxy. If she should fall into the hands of the Crogs, then humanity will have no future ..."

Rick and Don Wei had settled into the room adjacent to Eva's. Rick sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was proving to be impossible. Don rummaged through his bag, looking for the bottle of migraine medicine that had become a necessity over the past few years. Rick flopped onto his back and stared at the institutional lighting and steel girders that formed the ceiling.

"Don, what sort of crazy intergalactic adventure have you dragged me on this time?"

"I thought I explained things to you before we left the house?" Don said, locating the medicine bottle. He popped open the lid and swallowed two pills dry.

"All you told me was that Eva's life was in danger, and we had to leave Earth right away." Rick sat up and crossed his legs on the bed. Don could feel Rick's penetrating eyes, even behind the dark sunglasses. "If I'm going to be Eva's Guardian, I need to know what's going on. Those Einherjar guys were after her. Why?"

"I honestly don't know. I have no idea what interest those right-wing radicals have with my daughter."

"Why leave Earth at all? Why are we going to Nourasia? And what's with all this Guardian business anyway?"

Don sighed. "I'm tired, Rick. It's been a long day. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No way, I'm not letting you off the hook that easily," Rick said with a cunning grin. "You kept me in the dark during the race on Alwas. You're not pulling that again."

Don rubbed at his eyes. At this rate, his migraine would never go away, even with the aid of medication. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, Rick watching him intently, like a child waiting for the storyteller to get comfortable and begin the tale.

"Do you remember when I told you that the Ultimate Prize was any wish, any dream?"

"Sure," Rick said. "Though I couldn't bring myself to believe that."

"Well, it was a lie."

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "Then what were Eva and I risking out necks for during the race?"

There was a long pause. Finally, Don spoke. "The right to become the Avatar."

Rick straightened, his interest thoroughly piqued. "Become the Avatar?"

Don explained the true nature of the Ultimate Prize; how a race was held every ten thousand years to determine the new ruler of the galaxy. The truth behind the Ultimate Prize was kept secret so the motivations of the racers would remain pure; so they would not be blinded by a lust for power. He told Rick of their adventures on Oban, after the ex-pilot returned to Earth. He spoke of Satis, the previous Avatar, and how his predecessor wished to reclaim the powers he lost when Satis won the Great Race ten thousand years ago.

"You mean," Rick said. "That little old guy was actually the Avatar? He wasn't just his 'faithful servant'?"

Don nodded. "Satis kept his true identity a secret, so that he could keep an eye on all the racers. It wasn't until Eva questioned him about the true nature of the Ultimate Prize that he was forced to reveal his true identity as the Avatar. It hurt Eva deeply when she learned that her one wish, to revive her mother, would never come true. She nearly refused to fly in the last race because of that."

"That was her wish?" Rick bowed his head at that revelation. "I didn't know. But I think it's for the best that she didn't bring Maya back."

"Despite it all, she raced again, but only to keep the Crogs from winning. When she was offered the Ultimate Prize she turned it away to save her friend, Prince Aikka." Don frowned, remembering the numerous times Aikka had attacked his daughter. "That was a costly mistake. Without a new Avatar, Oban was dying and a terrible force of evil was unleashed. Eva decided that the only way to stop it was to take the Prize before it was too late. Jordan went along to protect her, and that was the last I ever saw of him."

"What do you mean by that? Jordan came back with you guys-" Rick thought back to Eva's birthday party and remembered the look of sadness on her face when he mentioned Jordan. "-didn't he?"

Don closed his eyes, brows knit together. Rick knew that look well. "I'm afraid Jordan wasn't able to return with us from Oban."

"He didn't-"

"He is alive ... but due to the true nature of the Ultimate Prize he was forced to stay behind. I told you before, he has some very important responsibilities now."

"Jordan ..." Rick breathed, "became the new Avatar?"

Don nodded and stared at the floor with a blank expression on his face.

"Jordan," Rick leaned back on his elbows and stared at the ceiling. "He was such a brash and headstrong kid. I never imagined he'd do something so noble." Rick noticed Don still staring at the floor, lost in his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"We owe him all our gratitude. Because of him, everyone was saved and my daughter and I returned home again as a family."

"But I thought only the winner of the race could claim the Ultimate Prize? Why did Jordan become the Avatar and not Eva?"

Don spoke one word. "Canaletto."

Rick sat up quickly. "Canaletto ... Why does that name sound so familiar?" The name echoed within the darkest reaches of his mind. He closed his eyes, remembering the fiery crash that ended his racing career, and a raspy voice saying: I am the Timeless One, Canaletto ... Rick put a hand to his throbbing head, his eyebrows knit together in pain. If only he could remember, but thinking hurt too much right now.

Don noticed Rick rubbing at his temple. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Don," the ex-pilot said, shaking his head. "Just thinking, that's all. Anyway, so this Canaletto guy, he used to be an Avatar, right?"

"Yes. He was the Avatar before Satis; the one who refused to pass on his power. The current Avatar had him imprisoned but by the end of the race he was too weak to hold him in check. Canaletto planned to take the Ultimate Prize again and destroy the galaxy. Somehow, he was using Eva to fulfill his plans, but Jordan interfered at the last moment and took the Prize himself. He destroyed Canaletto and became the Avatar."

"So, Jordan sacrificed himself to save the galaxy?"

Don hung his head once more. "Yes, but I have a feeling it was more than that. His feelings for Eva were very strong, after all. He would never allow someone like Canaletto to harm her."

"Jordan was in love with Eva?" A smile played at the corner of Rick's mouth. "He sacrificed himself for the one he loved most. Sounds like something out of a story book. It's hard to imagine Jordan filling the role of the handsome prince who rescues the damsel in distress, but there you have it."

"I didn't realize Eva might return his feelings until recently, though. The loss may have been harder for her than I thought. I know being Avatar is a full-time job, but I don't understand why he never once contacted her until now."

Rick stared pensively at Don from behind his shades. "Well, I'm not sure what circumstances they were under when they parted ways, but maybe he was afraid to talk to her?"

"I don't know." Don put his head in his hands. "Eva didn't talk much about what happened in the Arena of the Heart. All I know is that Jordan appeared to her in a dream the night of her birthday and said that her life was in danger and that she must come to Oban."

"What could possibly be so dangerous that the Avatar himself would need to protect her?"

"Canaletto is back, and he's after Eva once more."

Rick leaned forward. "Wait, I thought you said that Jordan destroyed Canaletto?"

"That's what I thought, but apparently only Canaletto's body was destroyed. His spirit is still out there somewhere, and he needs Eva and King Aikka to regain his powers. Jordan has sent Guardians to protect Eva and escort her to Oban. That's why we are on board a Crog ship headed for Nourasia. We must meet with King Aikka and bring him with us to Oban."

The two men sat in silence for many long moments. Rick stared at his hands clasped between his knees, trying to absorb all the information he had learned. He heaved a sigh.

"I wish I could have been there with you guys," Rick said. "It sounds like you and Eva went though some tough times while I was gone."

"Why did you leave, Rick?" Don raised his head and looked at his former champion pilot. "You left so suddenly, without a word of explanation. There was nothing in the rules barring you from accompanying us to Oban."

He shrugged. "Well, you already had your pilot. I'd have just been in the way."

Don grabbed Rick's massive shoulder. "How could you have thought that? You could have still trained Eva and given her advice-"

Rick shook his head. "I already taught her everything I knew. Besides, I figured it was time to let go, let her grow on her own. After all, I knew she had her father looking out for her, what use would she have had with a pilot who could no longer race?"

"You knew I was her father?" Don practically leaped from his seat. He had resumed his angry race-manager tone of voice. "When was this? Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"It was during her race against Spirit." Rick held a hand up to ward Don off. "I had my suspicions before, but that race confirmed them. I promised her I wouldn't say anything to you. I thought it best that you should hear it from her. Guess she took a lot longer to fess up than I'd hoped."

Don settled down and sighed. "I didn't realize it myself until I saw her performing Maya's stunts on Oban. By the time I confronted her, she denied it, but I knew beyond a doubt she was my daughter. If I hadn't been so obsessed with hiding from the past I might have noticed sooner."

"That's doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you two are a family again. And you've got Jordan to thank for that."

"I never had the chance to thank him. Neither of us did. It would make Eva so happy just to see him once more."

"You'll get your chance, once we get to Oban." Rick stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "We should hit the sack. All this excitement has worn me out."

Don stood and went to his baggage, looking for his pajamas. "You know, you never did tell me why you disappeared once you returned to Earth. We tried mailing to you, but all the letters came back with 'address cannot be found' on them. What did you do with yourself all this time?"

Rick took off his boots slowly and deliberately, ignoring the question.

Don had dressed in his gray flannel pajamas. He turned, "I thought you'd be around after the race was over. Eva was disappointed when she learned you had left."

Rick tossed his boots in a corner. He was still wearing the black pants and shirt with the yellow stripes on the neck and shoulders. He flopped on the bed and rolled over, facing the wall.

"I had my reasons," he said. "I needed to get away from everything that reminded me of racing."

"Rick-" Don said.

"I'm tired. Let's go to sleep." He glanced over his shoulder, an evil grin on his face. "You just better stay on your side of the bed, you sly dog."

Don twitched an eyebrow at the suggestion and turned out the light before crawling into bed. He lay with his back facing Rick and stared toward the window were the stars glittered in the inky blackness of space. He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep. The same could not be said of his companion. Rick twitched in his sleep and clutched at the sheets as the nightmare held him in it's clutches once more ...

Rakesh stood and stared out of the small window at the stars. Spirit had returned from the medical bay with Rush in tow, complaining about the Crogs, but with his wounds treated and bandaged. Spirit then immediately went to the room he was sharing with Rakesh, laid down on the bed, and remained motionless ever since. The Lunarian had watched him for a time, noticing that the white mask that served as a face had disappeared once more. The Phils lay perfectly still, not even breathing. Rakesh wondered if Phils even needed to breath. They possessed no mouths or nostrils; did they even have lungs? He gave up pondering the anatomy of the polymorphic alien and returned his gaze to the stars once more.

He thought about his homeworld, Lunaria. The small planets that drifted by reminded him of the nine moons that surrounded his world, how their light illuminated the night sky and served as beacons to those lost in the darkness. Now, it was gone. He was a refugee with no place to call his own. No family, no friends. The only things left to him were his memories and a promise made long ago to the woman he loved most.

He reached inside his robe and pulled out a small pendant suspended from a silver chain. He held the pale blue stone in his hand, warmed from the heat of his body. It hovered a few inches above his palm and displayed a small holographic image. The image showed two children; a boy with white hair and silver eyes and a girl with pink hair and red eyes. There were yellow flowers in her hair and she held a bundle of them in her arms. They were both smiling.

"Maya ..." Rakesh whispered, clutching the pendant against his chest as the image wavered and vanished. He bowed his head, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.