"Derek, have you totally lost reason here! I know we've all been under a lot of stress in the last couple of days, but you can't really be serious about going through with this!"

Rachel nearly knocked her cup of coffee over onto the conference table in her passion. Derek stood looking out the window at another day, his back to her. But he didn't need to see her face to know that it was probably livid. He had just told her what he and Nick planned to do today. All of it.

The two of them were alone for now. Nick was on his way back to the castle from the hospital, where the news from the doctors had remained the same. There was no more time to waste.

As he looked out onto the manicured gardens, their beauty was in painful contrast to the dark clouds of his soul. He sighed in resignation. "Rachel, I truly wish there were some other way. I don't know...maybe there is, but I don't know what that way is, and we don't have the luxury of trying to find it. The longer Alex is caught between two worlds, the more likely it is that we're going to lose her in this one."

"But how can you be sure...." she started.

"I'm not sure, damnit!" he yelled, turning to her, the anger in his voice startling her into silence. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, his action mimicking Nick's nervous motion at the hospital yesterday. He was nervous, uncertain whether he was doing the right thing. And Rachel's question only echoed the questions he had been asking himself ever since he had come to this decision. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, regret from his outburst already setting in. "Rachel, I'm sorry for yelling. I shouldn't take my frustrations out on you."

"It's OK, Derek, I understand. I'm sorry for pressing you like that," she said, more subdued.

He came over to the table to face her where she sat. "It's just that I wish I could be a 100% about this, and I can't be. We could lose them both...."

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he excused himself to answer it. Kev Newman stood outside on the porch, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. He had a habit of doing that, as though he could find no use for his hands when they weren't stroking a keyboard or finagling with some hi-tech project.

"Kev, thanks for coming up. Although I thought you were just going to send the package."

The young man shook his head, his blonde hair catching glints from the sunlight as he did. "No, I didn't want to leave you all in the lurch with only written instructions. I thought it best just to fly up and bring it myself. Make sure that it's working properly before...." He broke off the sentence, the pause awkward.

"Well, come on in," Derek said as he moved aside to let him enter. "Nick's due here shortly. He's driving over from the hospital."

Derek led Kev to the conference room where Rachel waited. If she was still uncertain about their plans, it didn't show on her face as she gave Kev a welcoming hello. They had met last year at one of the Luna Foundation functions, where he had cut a handsome but self-conscious figure in the required dinner tux. He had seemed so uncomfortable surrounded by all the glitter and finery that she had stayed after introductions to engage him in a conversation about the latest encryption software on the market. He had been animated as he discussed the various codes that were used to protect data stored on internet-accessible servers, and then they had joined Nick, Alex, Randy and Derek at one of the reserved tables. He and Randy had already known the rest of the San Francisco house from a prior assignment they had been on together before she joined, and their camaraderie was evident in the kidding and bantering that had been exchanged.

Right now, Kevin seemed quiet, somewhat contemplative, and she wondered how much Derek had told him. Most likely not everything. She knew Derek well enough to know his penchant for not being forthcoming with all the facts. He and Kev took a seat, and they sat together exchanging banal conversation as they waited for Nick.

They didn't have to wait long. Within minutes of Kev's arrival, they heard the front door opening. Derek had told Nick they would be meeting in the conference room, and soon he was standing in the doorway. He looked half dead on his feet, and Rachel's heart lurched to think what they were about to do to him. He spotted Kev and blinked in surprise.

"Kev, whaddya doing here?"

Derek explained Kev's role, and Nick just nodded, too tired to do anything else. He sat at the table with the rest of them.

"Nick, have you at least eaten?" Rachel asked. He shook his head. "I'm OK, Rach. I don't need anything."

She stood up, a determined look on her face. They certainly weren't going to send him to God-knows-where in this condition. "I don't care what you say. I'm going to scramble up some eggs and brew a fresh pot of coffee." Then she looked over at Derek. "He has to rest. He's not going to do Alex any good if he can barely walk from exhaustion. What's another hour or two? After all, we've waited this long."

This time Derek didn't argue. Nick looked like hell. "Nick, I think Rachel is right. We can't send you in this condition. We'll do this only after you've had some food and rest."

Rachel nodded in triumph before heading off to the kitchen. And an exhausted Nick turned his bleary eyes to Kev and asked how the chip was going to work.

Kev reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. The chip he pulled from it was small enough to fit inside an ear.

"It's like a hearing aid, isn't it?" Nick asked tiredly.

"Not exactly. This goes further down the canal. It's designed not to be detected. Also, one thing you should know. Because of where the chip's going to be positioned, you may experience some minor lassitude. But that may not be your only problem."

"What are we talking here, Kev?" Derek asked, now even less sure of his decision than before.

Kev leaned forward, and ran his hand through his hair. It seemed to be the standard quirk of Legacy men, at least these three. "Well, I'm not so sure that the time displacement itself won't affect some of his mental capacity, including his long-term memory. The sensory waves given off by the chip may offset that a little, I don't know how much."

"So you're saying that I may not know Alex, or even know who I am. Great," Nick said quietly, his exasperation edged by nervousness. But he knew that he had to go. He had to try for Alex's sake.

"Sorry, Nick. I can't even promise that the chip's gonna work at maximum. Some words may escape translation. If we had more time...."

"But we don't," Nick said, before Derek could. "Alex needs to come home. So the sooner we do this...."

Just then, Rachel's voice sounded over the intercom near the door. "Nick, come into the kitchen. Your eggs are almost ready."

Nick rose slowly, his body screaming not to move except towards a bed. He looked down at Derek still sitting. "I'll take that nap. And then I'm good to go."

Derek nodded as he watched Nick leave, thinking that none of them were ready for this.

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First there was a flash of light, followed by pervasive darkness. And then the feeling of falling into nothingness and silence, an overwhelming silence that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The first sound that he heard was his heartbeat, its rapid pace speaking its fear and disorientation. His skin felt warm, and he was laying on something hard and very hot. The heat was seeping up from the surface, burning his skin. It was the pain of the burning that brought him to.

He opened his eyes and immediately had to shut them again because the light was so bright and concentrated. He lifted his hand and ran it along his eyelids and let it rest there. When he opened his eyes again, the light was filtered through the spaces between his fingers, and was, therefore, bearable. He laid that way for several minutes, despite the heat, trying to figure out where he was.

"Nequa, stop playing around! You're not grinding it properly. Here let me show you."

Nick listened to the lilting voices of the girls as they bickered about something. Although close enough for him to hear, they seemed some distance away.

He moved to sit up, and when he did, he found that his limbs were strained, as though he had been running a long distance. He balanced himself on an elbow as he looked around, his eyes becoming accustomed to the brightness of the day. He seemed to be lying on a hill overlooking several low, flat-roofed single-storied houses contained within a network of enclosed courtyards. From the vantage of the elevated hill, he could see down into several of the enclosed areas.

In the nearest of these were two young girls, the owners of the bickering voices he was hearing. He watched them unobserved as the taller one knelt over a bowl sitting on a stone platform with something in her hand. Both girls were dressed in light peasant blouses and knee-length skirts, which seemed suitable for the warm day. He continued watching as the kneeling girl took the instrument in her hand and began grinding whatever was in the bowl. The shorter girl watched, taking note of the other girl's motions. "This is the way you grind the maize," said the first girl. "Now here you do it," she ordered as she handed the other girl the grinder.

He looked down and saw that he was still wearing a shirt and jeans. Dead giveaways that he wasn't from around here. And his hair and skin coloring weren't going to help him blend in with the native population. Hell, they hadn't even had time to go over customs or anything. Any mistake, major or minor could get him killed. He remembered Alex's descriptions of some of their bloodier practices, and felt cold in the direct sunlight.

Alex. He had to find her. Certainly someone must have seen her. She wouldn't blend in with the population so easily either. She would have been immediately noticed, if for nothing more than her beauty. And once he'd found her, then....he shook his head to rid himself of the image of Alex's fear-stricken face as she realized his true intent, as she begged him not to kill her. He hadn't really thought of what he would do, how he would do it. He only hoped that when the time came, he would find the courage needed.

At that moment, he heard several men's voices coming from somewhere over to the left. He turned and saw a river or lake several feet south of the enclosed houses. Making its way towards the bank was a boat with three men dressed in nothing but loincloths. One navigated with a pole while the other two seemed busy with netting of some sort. Probably fishermen, Nick guessed. And then wondered about the likelihood of their having weapons with them. He'd better make himself scarce. He looked around and spotted a grove of trees to the west. He was going to have to find shelter there while he regrouped and figured out his next move. Luckily the chip seemed to be working sufficiently. He had understood the exchange between the two girls. And thankfully, he didn't seem to have suffered any memory loss, although he did feel a little dizzy, just as Kev said he might.

The men had brought the boat to shore and were disembarking. If any of them looked up, they would see him immediately. He was going to have to move quickly.

Combat maneuvers resurfaced as he kept low to the ground, inching his way down the westward side of the hill, checking and verifying that there weren't people wandering about. Once on leveled ground, he quickly made his way to the grove of trees and disappeared within their dark shelter.

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He had ordered that she be shown the grounds and the various antechambers within the palace. If she thought she received strange looks from the other women as a servant led her through the doors separating the women's quarters from the rest of the palace, she read those looks as that of curiosity about a stranger in their midst. She couldn't have known that among the curious looks were also looks of envy. Moctezuma rarely allowed any of the women outside their sequestration, except for special holidays and religious observances.

Among those looking on with question were Moctezuma's Wives of the Mat, Tezalco and Acatlan, the only true wives among his concubines. When they had first heard the early morning rumors about Moctezuma's orders, they had left their private quarters to come stand with the junior wives along the great corridor that led to the doors outside. As the doors closed behind the woman, they had glanced at each other in disbelief, their unspoken question in the air between them: what magic has this strange, dark woman woven over our husband?

Down vast hallways the sounds of the immense palace travelled to her ears, vying for attention. She walked unsure, even as she kept up with the steady pace of the servant before her. He was a dignified figure, his bare shoulders straight, defying his obvious years. His sandals clopped along the marble floor as did hers. She had been given a flowing skirt with gold-trimmed goddesses embroidered into the dark material. The white chemise-like blouse left her shoulders bare, and her hair had been gathered into a braid that caressed her back, as escaped tendrils touched her face.

From one corridor they turned into another. The abrupt, insistent clanging of metal made her turn her head towards an open chamber in which a man stood, a hammer in his hand, steadily pounding on a large strip of dull gold. From the finished products she saw, she knew that soon the gold would shimmer like the rays of the sun, and be embedded with sparkling jewels. Jade, amethyst, emeralds, garnets, turquoise, mother of pearl - they were showcased in a variety of jewelry laid delicately along a table near an aperture. As they entered, the goldsmith continued his hammering, seemingly oblivious to their presence.

"The Great Speaker wishes for you to choose whatever pleases you," the servant said as he stood next to her. She fingered a delicate gold bracelet inlaid with an intricate jade serpent in the middle. Plumes dressed its head and red rubies glowered angrily at her. She turned to the servant, who looked on her choice with approval. Excellent, he thought.

"Tell me why I'm being so privileged?" she asked with a slowly awakened clarity. For the looks on the women's faces had stayed with her as she and the servant walked the many halls. If she had been ignorant before of their resentment, she now remembered the incredulous expression she had seen on the First Wife's face.

"You are a gift from the gods to our Great Speaker. Such a gift should be cherished, that is only right," he said with the blind faithfulness of someone not used to questioning his monarch's wishes, let alone the actions of the gods themselves. "Does nothing here please you?" His voice expressed wonder that she would not find anything to her taste. Moctezuma's goldsmiths were the best in all the land, graced with the talents given of the gods.

"They're all so beautiful, it's hard to decide." She picked up the bracelet, considering it as she silently considered the servant beside her. He seemed a loyal servant, had probably served behind these walls most of his adult life. What things had those eyes seen or secrets had his ears heard? He could be a source of much needed information, and possibly an effective ally.

"This is very extraordinary. Its eyes seem to follow you," she said distractedly as she looked on the bracelet, moving it slowly from left to right and back. The servant smiled. "You've chosen well. Quetzalcoatl, god of harmony, balance and life. And some say fertility."

There was a knowledgeable glint in his eyes as he said this. Fertility. Children. She hadn't thought about that. But, of course, eventually she would be expected to have children. She had seen a few this morning, had heard their laughter coming from the private quarters of some of the women. She didn't want children. Not now, not here. Because this was not her life. She was sure of that, if not anything else. And she needed to find her way back to the life she had had before. Luckily, she didn't believe in these gods, couldn't fathom them. Because, if she had believed in its power, she would have put the bracelet down, not wanting any god of fertility near her. And that would have disappointed....

"What is your name," she asked.

"Tenan, Son of Chimal, servant in life and death to Axayacatl, the great Face of Water, father of our Great Speaker, my lord, Moctezuma, whom I serve with body and soul in this life and the next." This mouthful was said without the inflated tones of pride, but with the matter-of-factness of the simple truth. So, she had been right to an extent. He had served here all of his life, a duty passed down through his patrilineal line, father serving father, son serving son. Although, from the reverence in which he spoke Moctezuma's name, it was more privilege than duty for him.

Only when it was obvious that she had made her choice did the goldsmith look up and nod his acquiescence. She placed it on her wrist, again admiring the beauty of the serpent. And said a silent prayer against its charm.