Carth's magical adventure, ROUND TWO, MOTHERFUCKERS!

[Carthrat]

"But progress caught up with you, eh?" says Carthrat, moodily.

[Anastasia]

He snorts. "Humanity's general suicidal tendencies caught up with the planet. For all we know, it's a radioactive crater now. Or, you know, a battlefield for whatever galatic empire or interests fancies that stretch of space."

[Carthrat]

"Or it's still struggling to stay alive," notes Carthrat. "Never underestimate the power of human stubborness in large groups."

[Anastasia]

Tir just shrugs, letting the issue go by now. "Talking that much made me thirsty," he comments. "Let's pick this up after we get some drinks."

[Carthrat]

"Eh. I really should get to work on the Datacores," says Carthrat, shrugging. "Depending on the security programs, I might need a week or so to crack them."

[Anastasia]

Tir shrugs. "If you want, but I'm going to get drink." With that, he leaves you, off so that you can do your thing.

[Carthrat]

"Try and save some for me, will'ya?" replies Carthrat, feeling a little hungry himself. Supplies weren't low, but he had already demanded a stead routine of rationing. It just didn't do to waste supplies when they weren't easily replenished.

It was always that way in space. You had to be frugal to survive. Engine malfunctions, pirate attacks, space phenomena, all could extend your trip by several weeks, or remove large portions of your hold. It didn't pay to be wasteful, especially in such a drab environment..

One thing Carthrat wasn't skimpy with were the lights. He almost insisted every light in the ship was on at all times. It wasn't as silly as it sounds; most of space was simply black. The light from distant stars was obviously not sufficent to light up the entire ship, and walking through the bleak ship, silent except for the muted humming of the engines was not always a comforting experiance.

Dragging himself from his chair, the man walks slowly from his position, savoring the little free time he has left.

Guess life never changes..

Maybe not, but he still had a job to do. It just wouldn't do to give up now. His thoughts cross into earlier times.. times when he was famous, known throughout half the galaxy. Now it would be a wonder if anyone recognized his name.

Perhaps the only thing they might remember would be the eyes. Eight years ago, they were as blue and fierce as they were now... tempered by eight years of solitude and death, but still as piercing as before, never dulled by the horrors that battle inevitably brought..

That was one thing, at least, that Setsuna was wrong about. Carthrat's thoughts went back to a time that somehow, didn't seem to have happened to him anymore..

"What is a man, Carthrat? A pile of thinking meat. This ability of thought gives us the power of 'reason'. This ability of reason gives us the veneer of 'civilisation'.

But all men are savages. Primal instincts of fear and hatred are what drive us all. And the more of either that is savored, the more that one is prone to.. watch anyone, Carthrat. Watch yourself through the years. I can see your path in your eyes.. you'll kill more men than even I.

We were friends once. If you kill yourself now, I can promise you that you'll die at the happiest moment of your life..

What a thought to have now, of all times. But maybe Setsuna was right. Sure. His life had improved over the last two years. He felt like a living, breathing man again, not the puppet he percieved himself to be.

But he didn't have Yuki.. didn't have any friends except those on the ship with him.. and already had more implacable enemies.

Maybe it was true that the only happy people were the ones who were completely self-serving. Like he was, once; there was nothing he did not do that was for either him or Yuki.. but she died, and now.. now why did he live?

Who knew. Who knew, indeed..

Oh. No time to think about such trivial things. The datacore awaited.

Carthrat moved over to a sleek viewscreen, tapping a few buttons, ready to give his mind the mental challenge of breaking a security program.

He'd probably need to write some programs of his own to break the code.. calculation programs, information-gathering programs.. so much work, so little time.

[Anastasia]

Thusly, a week passes as Carthrat works away on this project.

Tir, for his part, is oddly silent after his long story, spending many long hours staring at his gloved hand. Rachel avoids Tir mainly, cooking for everyone and keeping busy as best she can. There is a sense of unease about, however, a sense of waiting and stalling while the ship goes through the ether of dead space.

Even when you sleep, your dreams have a sense of being on hold, a feeling that even as you rest that you are just waiting for IT.

On the seventh day, with four more days until Paxis...Carthrat has succeeded in his task.

[Carthrat]

The blank identification tables started dumbly at Carthrat, who breathed a sigh of relief. Another job, done. The implications of failure were no less dangerous than the implications of getting shot at; problems and injury were bound to result.

Of course, there was still the matter of the tracker, and that he was sure the mercenaries would catch up with whoever bought the ship, and find a way to trace it back to whereever he was at the time.. but he had *time*, and time was what he needed.

It was strange; he didn't feel tired and weary as he so often did in these times, but rejuvenated; ready to face the universe, and win, as it were.

Rising from his sweat-damped chair, Carthrat runs a hand through his hair, and starts to smirk that smirk that was ever-present before he left Earth..

[Anastasia]

That night, both Tir and Rachel make note of your change in attitude, the latter going as far as to ask a gentle question after dinner.

"You look like you're feeling better," Rachel comments, laying in her bunk, a few of the time killing computer game modules scattered about. Idly picking one up, she begins another game of a random Solitare variant. "I almost want to wipe that smirk off your face."

[Carthrat]

Carthrat shrugs, smiling gently. "Have I wronged you so?" he asks, chuckling. "I've just had some time to think about things, and I'm feeling more confident now.

Don't you worry, Rachel. You'll see Diane again. Maybe not this week. Maybe not this year. But I promise I'll take you to her."

[Anastasia]

Rachel smiles back. "It shows. You're not so gloomy as you were after the attack." However, between making a dumb move in her game and Carthrat's next comment, that smile takes a bus far away.

"Well...I know I will and that you will," she says quietly. "Selena doesn't guarantee that things will be easy, but I admit I wonder if we got a particulary rough draw."

[Carthrat]

"I've always got an ace up my sleeve," replies Carthrat, marvelling at Rachel's ability to smile in their situation. "As long as we proceed with a good degree of caution, we'll be fine."

He trails a finger across the cabin wall.. "You've grown up over the last few weeks, Rachel," he observes. "Where would you be now if I hadn't staggered to your house in London one moonless evening?"

[Anastasia]

"Eating dinner with Diane, or watching television, or practicing my prayers..." Rachel murmurs back, putting aside the game unit absently, her thoughts taking her away. "I'd still be innocent and pure," there is a small smile with this, and no accusation, "and you'd somewhere in the depths of Gehenna."

Turning over to face you, she smiles. "I guess this is the best path out of the two, then. If we were able to save you..." Rachel pauses, not sure if thse wants to go on. "Maybe...we can help Tir, too."

[Carthrat]

"Maybe we could.." replies Carthrat, sighing. "But not through any normal means.. it's not so clear-cut.

It doesn't matter, anyway," he continues, thinking about the forthcoming trip in the nebula. "Where there's a will, there's a way. As has been proven before."