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The Lady of Shalott
A Short Story from the Gauntlets of Ares Universe

A.D. 2122
Phobos Installation, a Terran outpost on the larger, innermost of Mars’ two moons

Johnny Schwartz took a long meditative drag on a cigarette. On the Phobos installation, like everywhere else in the Martian Colonial Sphere, good cancer-sticks were hard to come by since tobacco importation had been on the downturn of late. Hell, importation of damn near everything had been on the downturn of late given the steadily rising tensions between Earth and Mars.

Of course, if you wanted anything from Earth, Phobos was the place to get it. Before the Olympus Wars fought in 2079 between Martian Insurrectionist and the Federated Terran Union, the satellite, and its sister Deimos, had been a very popular vacation spot with every kind of hotel, casino, holographic cinema, and man made-beach imaginable. After the war, though, the Terran Occupation Authority had shut down the Phobos resorts entirely, converting it into a veritable fortress complete with factories and ICBM silos. The surface of the red planet might convulse with insurrection, but as long as Phobos forever remained the Terran trump card, the Reds—a colloquial disparagement used by most Earth-born humans to describe the Martian counterparts—would always have to watch their backs.

“Hey, Johnny,” Michiko Tanizaki said with a smile as she sat across the plastic table from him. “What’s up?”

“Not too much,” he said around the cigarette, shrugging slightly. “Just contemplating martial trends and the adverse effects they have on interplanetary commerce.”

Michiko stared at him for a moment, then stuck out her tongue. “I hate it when you try to sound super smart like that. What were you really doing?”

He laughed at her display. “I was just wondering when my favourite engineer was going to show up for our lunch date. I have to be at my post in half an hour you know.”

She pouted. “Johnny, it’s going to take at least fifteen minutes before they serve us! You know this place is slow.”

“I guess we’ll just have to eat fast then, hmm? I wasn’t the one who was late.”

“Dammit! I told you they were bringing in that new…you know,” for that last part, her tone dropped to a conspiratorial tone.

“And you just had to stay for that?”

“Yes! This is the thing I was talking to you about earlier!”

Johnny shrugged again. “Whatever. All I know is that I’m starving and I really want to eat before my shift starts up.” He flagged down a waitress and requested two orders of ramen for them.

Michiko snorted after the waitress left. “I don’t see why the bloody hell you have to be on guard duty here of all places. I mean, it’s not like any Red is going to sneak onto Phobos any time soon.”

“That’s what they said about Shipping, Michi-chan, and look what happened there.” Johnny replied using the Japanese intimate diminutive form of her name.

“Yeah, but Shipping’s a civilian building. This is the frickin’ most fortified installation in the entire Martian Colonial Sphere, in case you forgot.”

“And, who, my dear Michi-chan, sets out to make sure that this is the most fortified installation in the entire MCS?” he blew a cheerful cloud of smoke through his nostrils while he waited for her to realise that he’d got her.

A half a second later: “Hey!”

Laughing, he stubbed out the cancer stick and reached across the table to put a hand on her own. “Come on Michi, I was only teasing.”

“No way,” she snatched her hand back. “You always make me seem like the dumb one. How do you know so much anyway? I’m the one with the degree from MIT.”

“Just a few years spent at a small place called Stanford, babe. You know that.”

“Stanford,” she snorted. “If you’re so smart then tell me why you’re in the Occupation Authority.”

He shrugged. “I ask myself that same question every day. One day I’m working away at my computer trying to get my first book finished and this e-mail pops up in the inbox window. It was the selective service, the bastards.”

At that time their meal arrived. Michiko split her chopsticks and took a few bites of the noodles. “Go on,” she said after slurping down another steaming bite, “I can definitely tell that you’re a writer; I love the way you tell these stories.”

“There’s not a whole lot more to tell,” he said, grabbing a wad of ramen with his chopsticks. “I got assigned to the North American Prefectural Peacekeeping Force where I spent a year learning how to be a soldier and having all traces of free thought eradicated from my psyche, and then it was time for the half-decade OA conscription quotas to be filled and the prefectural pencil-pushers figured it would be a good idea to sign me up. I guess the fuckers get a sense of pride out of keeping their best and brightest in the local military and send the dregs like me off to the OA. I’ve been on Mars or up here for the past year and a half.”

“So you got drafted after being drafted?” she giggled.

“Very funny,” Johnny said, deadpan. “The Council of Four Hundred really needs to remedy that situation to prevent cases like me from happening. Sure, I can see the necessity of maintaining a constant supply of fresh recruits for the OA, but do they really need quite so many? And drafting individuals already under a temporary service agreement seems particularly sloppy.”

“You can’t go to the offices and complain?”

“You think I didn’t try?”

Michiko downed the last of her noodles and stood up, adjusting her wire frame glasses on the bridge of her cute little snub of a nose. “Well, hotshot, I guess it’s time for you to be heading back to guard duty, eh?”

“Guess you’re right,” he said standing also. “Thanks for meeting me. This was almost as much fun as our first rendezvous.”

“Well, you do seem like a charming enough fellow,” she smiled mischievously, “perhaps I might deign to grant you the pleasure of a fourth date this weekend when we’re both off

“Whoa, I didn’t know they taught you science types how to use words like ‘deign’.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Silly boy. See ya this weekend!”

 

* * *

 

Experimental Subject 002-Px sat alone in her ascetic living quarters high in one of the multi-story towers that dominated the skyline of the Phobos installation. Today, as every other day, she worked her way through manual dexterity exercises while images of the specs of the new Deity Armour flashed before her on the large tele-screen mounted on her far wall. The work was tiring and her fingers had developed a steady ache but she knew that she was not to look down at what she was doing or take her eyes off the screen.
She was very pretty, albeit in a rather unorthodox manner. Her skin, most of which was hidden by a simple linen tunic, was pale as the soft glow of stars and her hair was a silvery hue. She had a perfectly smooth face, a rosebud of a mouth, and eyes of the most vibrant scarlet. Not simply a flicker or trace of red like the flecks behind the eyes of most Mars-born human colonists, but her entire iris was red.

From time to time, Subject 002-Px wondered why exactly these drills were necessary. Indeed, aside from her dexterity exercises (today was weaving; she’d only recently learned how to work the loom, but now that she did, she could do it almost without thinking), the memorisation of countless poems, and the constant lessons at the piano or flute, she did little but take her meals and sleep. Was there some purpose in this all?

She would have to ask the Doctor when next he came.

“Persephone,” a voice came in over the small PA system mounted in the wall, “You’re dawdling. Try to keep your attention focused on the exercise for a little while longer.”

“Of course,” she said and dipped her head apologetically.

Her fingers raced across the loom while her mind struggled to keep up. Back and forth and back and forth; the thirty-five-millimetre forearm mounted gattling cannon fires high-velocity rounds at the rate of sixty per second, but must not be used for bursts extending three seconds or the wear on the rifling will be detrimental…

“Very good, Persephone,” a voice said behind her, causing her to jump. “That will be enough for today.”

She wiped her brow, and turned to face her sole human contact, the Doctor. Seeing him, her face lit up despite her weariness, “Ah, Doctor; this one was just wondering when she might next be seeing you.”

“Is something wrong?” he said, good-naturedly, taking a seat on one of the room’s small wooden chairs. “Normally I’m the one with questions for you.”

“Indeed. And yet…” she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, “This one has been wondering…about the purpose of all of the exercises. Why is this one required to do so much for such negligible returns?”

The Doctor brushed the side of Subject 002-Px’s face with the backs of his fingers. “Do you ever wonder why we call you ‘Persephone’?”

Subject 002 screwed up her angelic face. “The Doctor’s question does not follow.”

“I’m getting there,” he said with a laugh. He was a fairly young man of about thirty with sandy hair, green eyes, and a ruddy complexion. “I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.”

She gave him a dubious glare. “This one is confused by the Doctor’s logic, but she will comply.” A distant look manifested behind her scarlet eyes, “Begin paraphrased recitation: Persephone was a Greek goddess and the get of Ceres, another goddess from the same region. She was in the fields one day when she was seized by Hades, lord of the nether region, to be his consort. While in the Underworld, she was not treated unkindly but she longed for the caress of the sun and for her mother’s embrace. Said mother was so distraught over the fact that she had been lost that she neglected her duties and the fruit of the earth withered and the air turned cold. Before she was finally found, Hades tricked her into eating the seeds of a Pomegranate. As was the case for all who enter his realm, those who partake of the food are not allowed to leave. Fortunately, though, Persephone had only eaten six seeds and so, was only required to remain in the Underworld six months of the year. It is during these six months that Ceres grieves and the earth grows cold; thus the advent of winter according to the Greeks.”

“Very good, Persephone. Remember that you are called such because of your relationship with Hades.”

“Ah, the newest model Deity Armour, the EF-DA 29ex Hades. The pinnacle of modern weapon design.”

“Again, you are correct.” He smiled at her. “You are to be the prototype of the advanced artificial intelligence command module that we are going to put into the Hades, and in order for you to function well as such, you will need to be able to react without thinking and have a high degree of dexterity. You will also need to be able to move according to specific algorithms and by perfectly synchronised with the harmonics drive which operates in conjunction with several of the pieces of music we’ve had you working on. Now do you see?”

The Experimental Subject—Persephone—nodded slowly. “This makes a degree of sense,” she started, “but this one was told that she was a human; how will she be used to form an artificial intelligence?”

“Everything that you do, everything that you think, is all transmitted across your brain in the form of electrical impulses. You were born specifically as a host for a new generation of nano-machines that interpret those impulses and save them to a hard drive installed at the base of your cerebellum,” he swept aside her platinum tresses from behind her neck and tapped at one of the three exposed metallic sockets spaced along her vertebral column, “here. This hard drive will be the base from which we programme the Hades unit’s A.I. You’re as human as I am, only you were born in a lab, rather than from a mother.”

“This one…” Persephone paused in thought. “Is that why this one is forbidden to leave the confines of the room?”

“So you’ve noticed that part, eh?” he laughed sheepishly, “Well, we don’t want you to be contaminated by input by outside sources, so yeah, you kind of are stuck in here. The only way in or out of here is that big old door I come in through. There’s also the ventilation duct that circulates the air so that you don’t suffocate, but other than those, this is your world, kiddo. Hurts me to death, but those are the rules.”

“This one is not fond of rules,” she said crossly.

The Doctor shrugged. “If you want, I can show you how to tune your tele-screen to some of the local feed from the surveillance cameras around the base. I don’t think an hour or two a day will do you much harm, and it’ll be a nice reprieve. You are human like I said—it’s unfair to have you totally isolated.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Persephone said with as much enthusiasm as she was able to show.

“You’re quite welcome, but do be sure to keep up your exercises.” He stood and fiddled with the tele-screen’s control mechanism. Snow and static gave off a low roar until he finally arrived at the network line that connected the base’s security cameras. “There you go,” he said at last, patting her lightly on the shoulder. “Remember, only one or two hours a day.”

“Thank you very much Doctor,” she said again, a smile breaking like the dawn on her pale countenance.

He smiled a final time and left her in the room staring in rapt fascination at the screen.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think that was wise, Doctor?” one of the technical officers asked Dr. Merlin Watkins as he stepped across the threshold back into the real world. He was surprised at how late it had gotten—Persephone’s chamber had no windows so he had not been able to see the city shift into its artificial dusk.

He took a seat behind one of the computer terminals across from her. “What, letting her see a little bit of life outside of her tower prison?” he asked the inquisitive techie, one of his protégées by the name of Fei Morrigan. “No, I don’t see it being any problem at all. True that we don’t want her out among the general populace, becoming corrupted by concepts such as free though or free will that such contact would no doubt lead to, but you have to remember, Fei, that in spite of all that we’ve done to that poor girl, in spite of even the very nature of her birth, she is still a human being. As such, she ought be able to at least see what the rest of her species does on a day to day basis, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What if just seeing the images of the outside world is enough to make her restive?” Fei said, arching a dubious eyebrow. “What if she becomes disillusioned with her training or—God forbid—tries to escape?”

Watkins shrugged. “I doubt that will happen, but if it does, we institute the S-protocol and bring up one of the spares.”

His protégée’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“We’ve got several more in cryo,” he said, maintaining his air of professional nonchalance, “they’re all prepped and ready to go.”

Fei still didn’t sound convinced. “If you say so, sir. It just seems like such a waste to have to start all over again.”
He smiled. “You do remember about the S-protocol, right? All the data collected will be saved and it would only be a simple matter of transferring it.”
She took a sip from her bottled water but said nothing more.

Watkins glanced at his watch in the interval of silence that passed between them. “Damn,” he said, “it’s already after six. When is the night shift coming in?”

“Half hour. I’m the last one on duty, but I’ve got enough work to keep me busy until they arrive.”

“You really should take a break, Fei. All this work is going to line that lovely face of yours,” he said, playfully. The two of them had worked on the Persephone Project for some time now, and she knew him well enough to take his jokes in stride. He was a good eight years her senior, but the two of them had a platonic friendship that spanned their time together as colleagues.

She laughed. “Keep that up and I’ll be forced to send a wire back to Louisville and inform Mrs. Watkins about your overtures.”

“Ah! Touché mademoiselle!” he said, feigning a rapier-blow to the heart. “Speaking of Jenny, I definitely need to give her a call once I get back to the flat. Keep up the good work, Fei, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He grabbed his hat and coat and started towards the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Johnny Schwartz sat at his post inside the lobby of the Kaufman Research and Design Building in the heart of the city that had sprung up to support Phobos’ growing civilian and military population. He was in the middle of reading an e-book reprinting of T.H. White’s The Once and Future King when he heard the ping of the elevator opening in the alcove behind him. As he always did, he quickly stowed his PDA and looked up, hoping that it might be Michiko coming down from her nineteenth floor office on her way home for the evening. He knew that she wouldn’t be getting off until seven all this month because of her involvement in the project involving the recently arrived DA, but even still he looked up for her out of instinct.

Unfortunately, as he knew was all too likely to happen, it was not the pretty young Japanese engineer who stepped off the elevator. He hid a sigh, and put on his best face as he called out, “Leaving a bit late this evening, eh, Doc?”

There were hundreds if not thousands of men and women working in Kaufman who had earned a PhD, M.D., or any other arrangement of capital and lower case letters, but the only one who took the time to actually converse with a lowly OA guard was Dr. Merlin Watkins.
One of the other things Johnny liked about Dr. Watkins was that the scientist never really spoke like a scientist. Unlike a lot of the other academics he had a fondness for the vernacular that paralleled Johnny’s own predilection for using ten and twenty dollar words. Their opposition made them good friends. Also, even though seven years separated them, Johnny still felt as though he could relate with the older man.

“Afraid so, Corporal,” Watkins replied, walking over to the desk. “Got a little carried away with the project upstairs.”

“I see.” Johnny had never been one to pry, and took Watkins’ lack of forthrightness about what exactly he was working on as a sign that it might not be for him to know about. Whatever it was, though, it was indeed important, of that much he was certain.

“Yeah, gotta get home and drop the Missus a line now. It’s been about three weeks since I last spoke with her.”

“Jesus.”

“Ain’t that some shit? Work’s been a bitch these past few days. That and we’re getting close to Apogee? I’ve got to call now or that damn solar interference is going to make it impossible. She’ll really want to roast my nuts then.”

Apogee, which happened every quarter-century or so, was the point in time when Earth and Mars reached the position exactly opposite from one another across the diameter of their orbits. Communications at that point were strained at best, though Cingular and Verizon were currently working on a joint venture to launch an array of powerful relay satellites to provide some relief of the tension caused during the communications blackouts that standard relay-sats couldn’t handle. One never knew what kind of ruckus those damned Reds might try to cause when the Federation couldn’t keep tabs on their every move, and with the recent occurrences of satellites going silent all over Martian space, many people were beginning to get a little anxious…

“I’m sure she’ll understand, Doc,” he said.

“Yeah right. How do you think that pretty little engineer you’re chasing would respond if you didn’t call her for a month?”

The guard felt his face heat. “I see your point.”

“You banged her yet?” Watkins asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“No, not yet, and I doubt I will I at any time in the near future. We’ve only had our third date, Doc. I don’t know what kind of amorous Byronic character you take me for, but I assure you, no one plays Don Juan quite like yourself.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Corporal,” Watkins said with a laugh, “but if I don’t get home to make that call quick, no amount on schmoozing will get me back into Jenny’s good graces. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Doc.”

As Watkins walked out of the door, Johnny pulled his PDA back out and opened the e-book to the chapter where he’d left off.

He hadn’t gotten far before the front door opened and the first members of the night shift started trickling in. Johnny was forced to put his portable computer away again to process the incoming employees. After the unfortunate fiasco at the Colonial Shipping and Trade Inc. offices in London a week past, security in the private sector had been heightened throughout the Federation. Apparently, an assassin posing as an employee (some rumours even said that it was a board member being impersonated) had broken into the company’s headquarters and put the CEO on ice. Because something like this happened to Shipping, one of the largest corporate entities in the Fed, and because there had been many reports of civil unrest on Mars, security here on Phobos was working under the mantra of Quadruple Redundancy: retinal scans, company pass-codes, fingerprint ID, and genetic sequence ID (expensive new equipment and a healthy supply of q-tips were supplied for the job) were all made requirements for entry into private buildings. The end result was a slower check in process, but a much safer workplace.

Yet, in spite of his indoctrination not to question his orders, Johnny wondered about the necessity for such redundant systems. This was Phobos for Christ sakes! Reds weren’t even allowed on the damned place, and everybody who was underwent a thorough psychological evaluation to be sure of their loyalty to the Fed.

It just seemed like everybody was on edge since the arrival of that new DA. Johnny couldn’t figure that out either. If it was just another prototype Deity Armour, why was everyone getting so bent out of shape? Because of its high level of security, Phobos was the proving grounds for many of Orion, Ford, Lockheed-Martin-Grumman, and Mitsubishi’s newest toys. With such a constant influx of new military hardware, what was one more powered-suit in the grand scheme of things?

After he checked in the last of the new arrivals, he started to pull out his book again, but the elevator ping, made him whip his head around. Standing there with a big grin was Michiko Tanizaki.

“Hey Corporal!” she said as she bounded up to his desk. “How’re ya doin’?”

Her charm was infectious and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Fine, Hot Stuff. How about yourself?”

“Man, I just got off work and the day after tomorrow, I get to have lunch with one of the OA’s sexiest young noncoms. I’d say I’m doing pretty good!”

“Where do you want to go?”

“How about ‘Camelot’?”

“That new pizza place?”

Michiko nodded. “That’s the one. The one just up the way from that park with the stream.”

“Sounds good to me. But will you be able to make it on time? This place is new, so you can bet it’ll be full to capacity at lunch.”

“’Full to capacity’,” she made a face. “Why can’t you just say ‘packed’ like a normal person?”

He shrugged. “Would you love me as much if I sullied my tongue by using the lingua franca? Michi, come on. It wouldn’t be me otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “This is how we first met, remember?”

Johnny put on a pensive look. “I remember a vivacious young woman sauntering up to my desk on my first day here and demanding to know who I was and ‘what the hell happened to the lady guard’.”

“Hey, Julia was a damned good friend of mine, I’ll have you know. I’m just sorry she got assigned to occupation detail down On Planet.”

“And what am I, chopped liver?”

“Oh, you,” she shoved him playfully, having to stand on tip-toe to reach all the way across the high desk. “I’ve got to get home so I can get a shower.” She walked towards the door.

“Thanks for the pleasant imagery, Love!” he called after her, causing her to laugh as the glass doors slid open and shut behind her.

Finally with a few moments to himself, Johnny went back to reading his book, blissfully unaware of the telecam taking surveillance of the lobby he guarded…

 

* * *

 

Persephone caught herself sighing as she gazed at the image displayed on her tele-screen. She had flipped through various feeds over the two-hour window since the Doctor left, and had observed much. She had seen a processional of Jesuit monks going out and around the city spreading God’s words to those of the Phobos Diocese. She had also seen a pick-up soccer game in one of the parks that provided swaths of greenery amid the concrete canyons of the city. A boy rushing to an evening cram-school session; A woman drinking coffee in a nearby Starbucks; the interior of a crowded movie theatre; and even the external feed of the stars slowly rotating as the moon orbited Mars far below.

But nothing she saw affected her as much as the young man working at the desk.
Something about him…was it his armour? The dark hues of the black uniform accented by the blue titanium plates that formed his breastplate and shoulder armour? Was it his own dark skin? His bronzed arms and face (the only parts said armour did not obscure) that so contrasted with her pallid members? The fact that he was powerful and she was frail? Or was it simply the fact that he was a man?

A man…

Persephone pored over his image on her screen for as long as she could, cursing herself for not having found this image sooner. All she wanted in the world was to sit and gaze upon this dark Adonis who had captured her emotions in a way that she was ill-equipped to even begin to describe.

As she watched, she saw him speaking with many other men and women just entering the building and sending each through what looked like a very rigorous process of examination before allowing them to pass on.

‘He must be some great wielder of power,’ she thought wistfully, ‘a gatekeeper to some unknown treasure.’

As she continued to watch, he sent the last of the lesser functionaries on her way and pulled out what looked like a small computer of a sort she had seen the Doctor with at times.

‘Not only a gatekeeper, but a scholar as well! This is something which must be relayed to the Doctor. That someone might presume to know as much as he…’

There was movement on the far edge of the screen and the man who had so enthralled her looked up in that direction and smiled brightly. Persephone wished to enlarge the image to see his expression in all its radiance but held back for fear of distorting the mood. Instead he watched as he began to say something to someone as yet still not visible…

The screen clicked off.

Persephone stared blankly at the darkness of the tele-screen monitor for a full thirty seconds, before uttering a howl of rage and disbelief.

“Sorry, Persephone,” a voice on the PA said. “That’s all for today.”

“Why?” she shouted at the faceless voice, “This one wishes that the image of the young man be brought back at once!”

“No can do,” the disembodied voice said with infuriating indifference, “The Doctor said two hours a day and that’s all you get.”

The Experimental Subject raged and shouted for several minutes more, banging on the tele-screen in a vain attempt to bring back the soothing image, but it was to no avail. Realising the resolve of those in higher power not to let her see any more, she flung herself to the floor and began—strangely enough—to weep. Her platinum hair fell about her tear-streaked face as sobs wracked her frail form, but a single question gnawed at the base of her mind the whole while:

Why?

‘Why is this one behaving thusly?’

‘Because the pleasing image was removed.’

‘But the image shall return tomorrow.’

‘That is insufficient. The aforementioned image must be returned, now.’

‘And yet, why was it that image that is causing this one grief? The other images disappeared, and this response was not triggered; why only the one of the young man?’

‘This one does not know. Further, this one does not care. The wish is simply that the image be restored.’

‘Perhaps this is a simple urge towards procreation? That was the only image of one of comparable age to this one.’

‘That this might be…’

‘Might be…’

“Love?”

Persephone had a concept of what love might be. Having been exposed to such a great collection of human artistic accomplishments, it would have been difficult for her not to have. Suddenly a deluge of Tennyson, Byron, Shakespeare, and every other poet she had ever studied, hit her with an unfathomable intensity. Every poem, play, or musical piece that she had ever learned that mentioned love swept over her in an instant.

‘So this is what they meant…’

Of course, the objective knowledge of what ailed her did nothing to make the hurting stop. This was at once both like and unlike the times where she pricked herself with a needle during her exercises; the pain was indeed sharp, but it was much deeper than simple physical discomfort. She was reminded of a poem by Briton A.E. Housman; an excerpt from his 1896 “A Shropshire Lad”:

 

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
‘Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;

Give Pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free’
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
‘Tis heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a plenty
And sold for endless rue.’
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ‘tis true, tis true.

 

Persephone mulled over the poem for a little, but suddenly found herself overcome by exhaustion. Fighting grogginess, she rose to a sitting position and looked up to the ventilation shaft just in time to see a faint puff of what looked to be smoke issue forth from the steel grating. She would have been infuriated had sleepiness not so thoroughly overcome her. They had not used the sleeping drug on her since she was a small child, throwing tantrums over not wanting to do her exercises.

Persephone tried to resist, for she knew that when she awoke she would have no memory of the young man in armour, but there was little she could do. Angered and saddened, she surrendered to sleep’s embrace.

 

Intermission!