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He was the single most terrifying individual Matt had ever met. His entire body was covered in scar tissue, and what wasn't scarred was burned, branded or covered in feral tattoos. The right side of his head had a metal plate bolted to it, and his lips were held together with metal wire. The monstrous Kyyreni looked like some kind of nightmarish creation of a mad scientist in a cheap horror-holo, and when he spoke, he growled the Panglish rather than speak it. His name, which was confirmed after a moment's confusion, was Wodka.

Matt shifted uneasily in his chair, his eyes drifting around the cramped, ill-organised office. Paperwork, datapads and miscellaneous office equipment covered every flat surface that wasn't covered in personal bric-a-brac, textbooks and empty bottles. The latter in particular were plentiful. Someone, presumably Wodka, had made a star chart out of bottle caps. Wodka settled himself back into an old leather chair on the other side of the desk and took a generous swig from a triangular green bottle. He offered it across, but Matt declined as politely as he could. "So!" The Kyyreni barked. "You want to send a message to Urokon? Why!" Matt chose not to meet the Kyyreni's feral stare. "My... my son has family on Urokon. I thought it'd be nice for him to be able to speak to them. He's been very homesick lately." "Homesick..." Wodka sloshed the word around in his bottle and swigged it thoughtfully. "I get homesick. Money's better here though. Coffee's cheaper." For a moment the Kyyreni seemed to forget where he was, lost inside his own head. He returned to reality with a jolt that startled both himself and Matt. "A coffee!" He cried. "I did not offer you a drink properly! I am very sorry!" "It's fine! I'm fine, really. Thank you." Matt replied, still unsure of what to make of the seemingly deranged trader, and caught completely off guard by his sudden desire to be a good host. "Do you think you could send a message for me?" Wodka nodded thoughtfully. "Data is easy enough. It'd have to be un-coded though; plain script. Security would read it both ends. They're paranoid here you see, think we're sending secrets, think we want another war!" He spat at the waste paper basket and missed. "War's bad for business. The Readers are just as bad. Who would it be to?" This was where Matt checked Jas' instructions, which he'd taken down on a hand pad. "It would be to the eldest heir of Vaahn son of Brahlt son of Garo, of the family line T'Rol, of the House of Tu'ri, Yvenik City, Yvenik State." Wodka nodded slowly, absorbing the name. He finished his drink and placed the empty bottle down with several of its friends so it wouldn't get lonely. "Eldest heir would be Noble Jasat, assuming he hasn't died since the last delivery. How does your child have links with a Noble?" "He used to serve the House. He's a Penitatas now." Matt answered carefully. Again, Wodka pondered this information. "Well... if he thinks the Noble will want to hear from him... Tu'ri fund ships regularly, so getting it there might be easier than you think. I'm expecting the ship in by week's end." "They'll deliver it by hand?" Matt asked. Wodka shook his head. "That would be silly! No, the ship's captain has broadcast clearance; he can send a message on my behalf. Urokon signal stations block out any traffic that isn't authorised." "I see, well, thank you. How much will it cost to send?" Once more Wodka shook his head. "I won't charge. It's no effort. Besides, doing favours for Nobility is never a bad idea." "That's very kind of you." Matt answered. He shook Wodka's hand, a ritual that seemed to catch the Kyyreni a little off guard, and stood up to leave. As he did so, morbid fascination compelled him to seek answers. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you... suffer so many injuries?" Wodka flashed a smile so wide it caused his lip to split. "I walked into the Day."

* * *

Learning that his youngest son still lived, and had inherited the mantle of noble, seemed to do a lot to improve Vaahn's mood, which since his fight with Jakob had been nothing but sour. It had been Jas who'd pushed the idea of him writing home in response to a rather noticeable drop in Vaahn's commitment to school work, and general decline of sociability overall. After many hours spent struggling to write a legible letter, stretched over the course of several days, Vaahn's letter home was eventually delivered by his father, and the waiting began. That in itself became something of an obsession for Vaahn as the weeks went on; he seemed determined to remain as close to the front door as physically possible until the day's mail arrived, only to be left downcast when nothing arrived for him. All attempts to encourage patience fell on deaf ears.

Almost a month after the letter had been sent an unexpected visitor came to call. Matt answered the door to find Wodka, dressed far more formally than usual, stood at the door with a datapad in one hand and a cylindrical device in the other. His expression, such as Matt could tell, was one of anxious urgency. "Mr Johansson, I have a message to deliver." He held the datapad up, but as Matt reached for it the pad was jerked back. "I am under very strict orders to deliver this to Vaahn personally, and to confirm his identity." That, it turned out, was the purpose of the other item. The family gathered in the living room as Wodka offered the tube to Vaahn, who placed his finger into a small recess at one end. There was a gentle click as the machine took a drop of blood to sample and compare to the stored biometrics. Satisfied, Wodka placed the tube in his back pocket and announced, with almost excessive formality, "[Vaahn, Son of Brahlt, Son of Garo, of the bloodline of T'Rol, Noble Lord of the House of Tu'ri, on behalf of your son I deliver this message, which on my life I swear to be written by his hand and transcribed for transmission without alteration. Pray, receive it.]" Wodka visibly sagged with relief when the pad was taken off his hands. He gave a curt nod to Matt and Chloe before taking his leave, pausing only to inform them he would be honoured to act as a messenger in the future. "Well, Vaahn? What does it say?" Chloe sat down on the couch, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. After such a long wait, the entire family was just as eager as Vaahn was to hear from Jasat. "Give me a minute," Vaahn replied, settling onto the sofa next to his mother. Jas and Matt likewise settled in.

After scanning the pad a few times to decide the most appropriate translation, Vaahn slowly began to read the letter aloud. "Father, I never imagined I would speak to you again in this life. To learn you still live is a blessing, and I am glad you are safe and well." Vaahn had chosen not to speak of his near death experience in his own letter. He continued, "You will be glad to know that our House has prospered in your absence. Just as you did, and your father did, I have sought to maintain strong ties with the merchants of the city, and Tu'ri funds many of the trade ships visiting Icara and the other Human colonies. This will make contact between us much easier. "I regret that I cannot dedicate much time nor content to this letter, but I am sure you will understand why. I will seek to write to you as often as my station permits, though if you wish to be kept up to date with local gossip that can easily be arranged. Perhaps, as Kaaza did, I can bring you comfort with idle news from home." Vaahn carefully put the datapad aside. "It's signed and date stamped. He actually got my message..." Matt placed a fatherly hand on Vaahn's shoulder. "I'm sorry if it wasn't what you'd hoped for." The Kyyreni boy flashed a brief smile to his father. "He said he'd write whenever he could. That's enough for me. I can write to him even if he can't write back."

Two weeks later, completely out of the blue, another delivery arrived. This time it was not a simple letter; audio files and various data packets had been sent. They arrived in a security-cleared parcel, with the sender's name listed as "Ank T'Ouda." The package was opened as soon as Vaahn returned home from school. With his mother's consent he placed the first item, a holodisk, into the living room reader. The video was taken using an old-model holocam, judging by the recording quality. The Kyyreni on screen was immediately recognisable to Vaahn and Jas as a half-breed, a mix of Dawnsider and Nightsider. "He could be Dorth's son!" Jas exclaimed. "[Vaahn T'Rol, I am Ank, son of Dorth, son of Uikke.]" The recording announced, confirming Jas' guess. "[When Noble Jasat broke the news to us you all lived we were all very excited! I mean- well- well you know why this is so important! Oh I wish I could hear all your stories! My father-]" The figure seemed hesitant for a moment, chastised by someone off screen. "[I'm sorry, I forgot that you haven't been kept informed of what's happened here. I have enclosed a complete record of births, deaths and marriages that goes back over thirty years. Sadly, my father passed away just last month. He would have loved to hear from you. Still, we can't walk backwards, so we might as well run forwards! I have so much I want to tell you! I'm going to start with Soohl, my sister. She's marrying into one of the Night Tribes...]" Ank's recording went on for almost an hour, dishing out more gossip than a teen girl magazine. Vaahn watched the whole thing twice; the second time was when his father got home, pausing every so often to translate. Ank's words painted a vivid picture of family life back on Urokon - arranged marriages, turf wars in the rough houses and the ever-shifting political boundaries. He delivered the intrigue at court, the rumours in the play-circles and the hearsay from the dockyards. Finally, he gave a list of demands - they were far too hungrily delivered to be requests - for information about Icara. Ank, it seemed, wanted to know everything about the planet, its culture and its people. There was also a not-too-subtle hint that he intended to visit the planet in the future.

Over the next few days, as Vaahn worked through the rest of the package, he couldn't help but admire the thoroughness Ank displayed in creating the gift. He had even found and sent digital photographs for Vaahn. One in particular caught the boy's eye, and his parents needed no convincing to have it printed for him and chose to have it blown up large enough to occupy a previously empty space on the bedroom wall. "Now I know who some of these people are, but care to introduce the others?" Chloe sat with her Kyyreni son, admiring the half-dozen figures stood together in the grounds of their ancestral home. Vaahn pointed first to a crouched figure in the foreground. Unlike the other Kyyreni he was jet black, save for his muzzle and a large teardrop on his chest, which were both the more usual blond. "That's Uikke. He's not a blood relation, but my father adopted him when he was still a baby, symbolising our bond with the Nightsider House of Jugonbaahl. Behind him is Jaahl. Those two did everything together." "Who's the girl? A sister?" Jas giggled from the top bunk. "That would be Jaahl's true love. He had a different one every year back then. She'll be Myyn, a Vassal of House Reok. They were going to marry, but it didn't work out." "Her father said she could do better." Vaahn chuckled. "He changed his tune later on, but by then Jaahl had married someone else." Chloe picked out the next two. "Well that's obviously Jas, and somehow I doubt he'd be kneeling at anyone's feet but yours. How old you were you there?" "Sixteen." Jas answered, blushing. "You sure?" Vaahn asked. Jas nodded confidently. "Trust me; I remember that year very well." Whilst the two boys shared their private memory, Chloe took a moment to examine Vaahn's past self. At sixteen, he had been a striking individual; the picture was of a grown man radiating confidence and ambition. The brutal scar over his left eye made him look every bit the warrior, an image that the swords strapped to his back only emphasised. Yet where every other Kyyreni in the picture were stern and serious, Vaahn's mouth carried the hint of a smile. What that represented Chloe did not know, but it certainly marked him out as different. The boys returned their focus to the picture. "The one there, with his arms behind his back, is Poys. He broke his wrist by falling down the stairs, so he's hiding the cast. Next to him is Eskal, our youngest brother." "He doesn't look very happy," Chloe said. Eskal's expression seemed to be sorrowful, perhaps lonely. Vaahn's gaze lingered on his long-lost sibling. "Eskal never wanted to be a warrior. He liked painting and studying nature, especially birds. We were working hard to make Tu'ri a warrior house and so we forced him to follow in our footsteps. In the end he left Urokon and made his own way across the stars. I always hoped he'd come back home, but he never did." The boy shook off the momentary reflection to introduce the final brother. "That's Taryyk, my eldest brother. He's holding my personal banner." "He was really cute." Jas sighed. "Really good in bed too." "You know," Vaahn cut in, "I'm starting to wish I hadn't let you do that." "Well he wasn't nearly as good as you." Jas answered in the most disingenuous voice possible, which caused both boys to snicker. "Alright, that's quite enough of that!" Chloe announced, not wanting to get involved in the past sexual antics of her two sons. "I'm just glad you like it, Vaahn." "I do. Thank you for this. It... it really means a lot." "You're welcome hun. Just don't forget to finish all your homework!"

* * *

The school year was drawing to a close and with the promise of a long, hot summer just around the corner spirits were high. Jas in particular was looking forward to his first summer as a Rejuve, to the point where he'd spent most of the last days of school planning how he wanted to fill his days. Matt, Chloe and Vaahn all saw the unspoken motive in Jas' eagerness; his first childhood had been taken from him, and now he was making up for lost time.

The end of the day came at last, which was fortunate for the Pennys in the class as many of them were struggling to keep quiet. Though a few received a handful of swats on the backside, everyone escaped more or less intact, and the halls of the school were filled with the collective roar of hundreds of Rejuves all talking loudly and excitedly about the holidays to come. Sadly, not everyone was in high spirits; the end of the school year meant report cards, and those who feared their efforts were not up to scratch were not looking forward to their welcome home. Simon was clearly one of them, giving his friends worried looks as they fell into step beside him. "Hey... so how do you guys think you did?" Simon asked weakly. Jas knew the question was directed more at Vaahn, since as a Voluntaras he had practically no chance of being punished for bad grades. The Kyyreni boy shrugged it off with disinterest. "I don't think it matters, what with the last couple of weeks." As if on cue, Jakob stepped into view as the trio left the school building. Since her fight with Vaahn the Medicalos had avoided contact with most of her friends, choosing instead to be alone or, when she was in company, solely spending time with Rebecca or other girl friends. The Medicalos only briefly made eye contact, immediately shifting her gaze away once her friends had stopped. She shifted uneasily, barely managing a timid "...hi guys..." by way of greeting. "Hey Jakob." Jas replied, catching sight of Rebecca coming the other way. The Penny girl stood by her medicalos friend, the two exchanging a glances and encouraging nods. "I wanted..." Jakob began, her arms folding awkwardly across her chest. "I mean... I'm sorry for what I..." "It's okay." Simon said to try and ease the girl's anxiety. "We know you've been upset." Jas nodded in agreement. "You know we're here for you, right?" Jakob smiled at the supportive comments. She turned to Rebecca, who mouthed 'I told you so'. However, there was still one friendship left to mend. "Vaahn-" Jakob began, but the Kyyreni boy cut her off. "To hell with your apology." The boy growled, and before Jakob or anyone else could reply Vaahn stormed past her and headed for the school gates and his waiting mother. Jas gave chase, leaving Simon hovering awkwardly, unsure of whether to stay or go. "Fine! I never wanted to be your friend anyway!" Jakob yelled at the retreating Vaahn, demeanour suddenly furious. Her attention then turned to Simon, and she picked up on his hesitation instantly. For a moment it seemed she was going to burst into tears, but she was steeled by another tantrum outburst. "Go with him then since you obviously want to! Some friend you are!" Simon gave a hurt gasp and stepped backward sharply. "But their mum's walking me home!" Not waiting to see if the excuse was good enough Simon broke into a run and joined his friends, whilst Jakob fled to the bathroom so nobody would see her cry.