"It's naive to think of memories as being purely from the past."

  Words from a Duu'ra

  There was a dance floor near them and a group of locals had formed spirals around a single dancer at the centre. The music had an ancient feel, full of clicks and croaks. Somehow, it sounded like the quiet background noise from the crystal jungle. The tone rose and fell with a deep beat that filled the body, set the bones vibrating.

  Memories glitched and rippled across her mind. Memories that flowed into different times, different places. She watched as timelines circled and dancers spiralled. She felt the call-and-response in the music, opened her eyes and unthinking got up.

  As Feebee crossed and joined the locals they admitted her into their dance, into the timeline they occupied. Accepting her as she started to dance. Recognising the ancient truth in her moves and copying them. Feeling the honesty as their bones resonated with it; bone memories from a different time.

  The lights around the edges of the dance floor flickered then died. The remaining lights, focused on the dance floor flared. Spotlights, previously following random paths now tracked Feebee, setting her alight inside a yellow glow.

  The locals pulled back, giving her more room as she leapt and stamped across time to the voices that called out from within the song.

  Then a single green spec of light blinked into existence above her. It circled, slowly descending until it was level with her chest.

  River joined the group that spiralled around Feebee. They drew warmth, balance and calm from her like moths sucking up the light from a quiet flame. A Silent Flame.

  Suddenly, a mass of motes blinked into existence around Feebee. She was a burning light within the brilliance that seared their eyes. And the dancers were bathed in a moment where they were able to see the path walked by the Duu'ra.

  Then suddenly the room went totally dark as all the motes and all their light flowed into Feebee; a portal to some other realm where light and balance didn't just exist but was its foundation.

  She collapsed, River rushed forward as the lights came back on. For a moment, there was absolute silence. No music, no voices. Nothing but the after image of the Silent Flame seared into their eyes' memory.

  Then, with the moment was gone, the chatter picked up, people pointed and everyone went back to their chosen vice. Some weird new light show, they supposed.

  River scooped Feebee up and carried her to their table, surprised by her weight. Security arrived but there was nothing to see. The QI had already deleted all security footage and pointed the cameras away.

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  She came round quickly, "Did I ...."

  "Pass-out? Yes. You Ok?" Asked River.

  "Got overwhelmed by memories. Ok now," was all she'd say by way of explanation.

  River looked to the Alphas. They just shrugged, unconcerned; clearly used to her passing out, getting shot or busted up in some way.

  As the night wore on they sat chatting and working their way through the local beer. Feebee was catching snippets of the chat from a nearby table. She asked Rockson to swap places so she could hear what was being said better.

  "...they are demanding more quality crystal..."

  " ...they'll pay anything for it..."

  "...got burnt they did. Testing everything now..."

  'Any way you can iD the people on the next table.' Feebee looked their way.

  The QI hacked the pub, found their payments system and the specific payments made from the table Feebee had looked at. From there it was trivial to follow their payments back to a holding company which owned a ship currently docked at The Farm.

  They noticed Feebee, she's given herself away, they switched language.

  River moved his chair closer to Feebee. "They're speaking local pidgin. I've seen one of them at our farm, he's an 'uncle'," Seeing Feebee's confused look, she added, "Close friend of Dad's"

  "Stay Relaxed. Trust me," Feebee said to the Alphas and Rockson. She then took River's hand, stood up and approached the Uncle's table. "Say hello and introduce me."

  As they neared, hands disappeared under the table; reaching for weapons, she assumed. Feebee kept her's in plain sight.

  "Uncle, River Peters," he added extending his hand, "John's son. And this is Feebee Jones, my partner." River played his part well.

  The old man stood, "River. Wow! Honestly, didn't recognise you. You've grown big like your old man." He thumped the boy on the back then gave Feebee a hug and a kiss.

  Feebee just stood there, ram-rod straight, not sure how to react. Looking at River then back at the old man.

  The old man laughed, "The Peters' never were big on introductions." He then stepped back, extended a hand and gently said, "Kilogram Peters. Call me Kilo. Nice to meet you Feebee Jones."

  Feebee nodded, took his hand. Kilo squeezed, testing her. She responded matching his grip perfectly. Looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Nice to meet you Kilo Peters."

  They hugged and she gave him a kiss.

  Kilo laughed, "That's better, come, join us. All of you."

  They rearranged the tables and what had been two quiet tables became a rowdy mass around a growing collection of empty glasses and bongs.

  "Do you still have The Hanging Question?" River asked.

  "Yes, and these are the miscreants that keep it going. Sadly, an increasingly difficult challenge."

  Feebee wasn't sure where Uncle Kilo fitted in, so asked. "Are you a farmer?"

  The table suddenly went quiet, everyone looked at Feebee, then at Kilo. You could tell that he was working out how best to answer, "Let me ask a question first." A predatory look came into his eyes, "A question back at you... Feebee Jones. The cuts, on your colleagues arms and faces... they are quite distinct, and new. How did you get them?"

  She responded immediately, "In a conflict with RG elements."

  The table had been quiet; silence descended.

  The whole table looked back at Kilo.

  He smiled, "Explain."

  "Well, I'd like to relate a deeply moving story of fighting to protect mature glades of crystal. But, this was glass from a shop front along with an assortment of libs from dolls and figurines."

  She took the decapitated figurine from her pocket and held it up. There were smiles around the table and a degree of idle chatter resumed.

  Kilo looked at River, "I like her. So that was you was it. Word of that... incident even reached us. You gave the RG a good whipping by all accounts."

  Feebee grinned, "We were playing nice."

  "Playing nice," Kilo repeated then pointed to Feebee's rifle, "May I?" he asked.

  Feebee unhitched it, took the magazine box out, ejected the cartridge in the chamber and only then handed it over.

  Kilo smiled, the practiced precision with which she executed that small drill spoke reams. As did her doing it.

  He looked it over and narrated, "Point five, recoil-operated." It click clicked as he rotated the bolt. "Well maintained." He stood it on the floor, "Extended barrel, unusual." He hefted it in his hands, "Fifteen kilos, give or take which given the length tells me it's got titanium components. Custom job." The last was a statement, not a question.

  Feebee nodded.

  Kilo continued, "Standard rail." He looked through the sight, "Ooh nice, Retro, Leupold. Nice. Ammo?"

  "Depends on what I'm stopping," she continued. "You know your weapons."

  He shook his head, "Just long guns." He didn't elaborate and Feebee didn't ask.