McGee sent the message and then sat back in his chair.  The orbital paths around Drago, he thought, were getting congested.  Him, Aaru, the Guild supply ships, the colonists and two mysterious cloaked vessels were all moving in a synchronized dance around he planet.  Two cloaked ships, he repeated to himself.  Ships almost certainly not Syndicate, not COBRA and not anyone else inside the Rift.  Ther'lin had told him of the second as they'd left Drago four days ago to escort the colonists in.  It had been parked out past both her and Aaru and it wasn't until they'd headed for deep space that it had been close enough for her to scan, now that she knew what to scan for.  It had followed them from Drago to the colonists and back, never getting close but never getting far enough away that they could lose them.

He leaned his head back against the top of the chair and considered the small list of possibilities he'd come up with in the last few days. Clearly the interest was in Ther'lin and Aaru, though whether the ships themselves or their crew wasn't clear.  He looked across his cabin at the far wall and the pictures hanging on it, his expression pensive.  It was, he decided, too soon.  He didn't know enough yet and until he did he'd do what he always did.  Watch and wait.  It was a plan he could implement in his sleep, he thought as he headed for the shower.  And after he'd shared the news with Marc and Dinah over dinner he planned to do a lot of sleeping.

He was in the main common room, a smaller and more intimate space than the one on Aaru for obvious reasons when they arrived.  He was expecting them, had invited them on purpose and still he found reason to be grateful for the self control he'd learned over the years as they appeared.  He wasn't used to company and he'd never, he knew, get used to the vivid, dramatic beauty that was Dinah's and that struck him like a blow every time he saw it again.  It was always like seeing it for the first time. 

None of it showed though as he said hello.  "Welcome aboard."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction. So my hang over several days ago was worth it, eh?" Marc's voice belied the words. The voice spoke of mild amusement, and a bit of self-deprecation.  "To what do we owe the invitation?'

"Simple friendship and an interesting trip," McGee said.  "I could have just dropped by but I figured what the hell.  And Zaf here was ready for a new face."

"And you thought ours would work?" Dinah asked as she traded Zaf a bottle of wine for a drink.  "You are optimistic."

McGee grinned and gestured towards the furniture.  "No, I've just known him a while."

Zaf grinned. "Yours works just fine, trust me. Marc's ... well, never mind."

They all took seats and Zaf put the scotch nearby.

"A trip?" Marc asked. "It has been pretty boring around here, what with no surprise attacks. What do you have in mind?"

"I meant the one I just took," McGee said.  "The one where I was followed there and back again."

"Yes, Aaru mentioned that. Any idea who they are? And here we thought Aaru was rather unique on the Rim. Now suddenly there's four of them."

"I keep forgetting Ther'lin and Aaru like to talk to each other," he said.  "I'm hoping Aaru mentioned it to just you two."

"Well, and Ingev. She has the hots for him," Marc added.

"He'll keep his mouth shut?" McGee asked.

Marc sat back and regarded McGee thoughtfully.  "Why is it important that he does?"

"Because there are only two, maybe three possibilities for who it might be," he said.  "In the cavern that day, how much did they tell you?"

"Enough to get me interested and curious and intent on finding out more," Marc replied. "I'd be delighted to learn more."

"Without knowing what you know now I don't know what I can tell you," he said.  He shrugged slightly and set his glass aside.  "I'm not prevaricating or hedging.  I'm not being mysterious for the sake of it."  He looked away, staring at the far wall for a moment and then met Marc's eyes.  "It's just that it's a case of Schrodinger's Cat.  By that I mean not the common idea where there is no way to set up an experiment without influencing the outcome because it is impossible to create a totally closed system, but rather what Schrodinger meant which was to highlight the question of when does a quantum system stop being a mixture of states and become one or the other.  It is the dilemma I am faced with here."

"Well, let me tell you what I think since I'm not sure how much I was told and how much I've surmised from what I was told," Marc replied. "The dragons, and other species, were 'left behind' in order to achieve some specific level of evolution, evincing some particular set of abilities or level of intelligence or both. When they reach the promised land, they will somehow learn how to find the First Ones and will have an opportunity to choose whether to join them or to stay here. I deduce from that, that your choice of analogy is appropriate in more ways than one.  This is some sort of experiment, done by some group or species and we are inside the box clamoring to get out."

"You are very close to being totally correct.  Where you get it wrong is in thinking this an experiment.  It isn't.  It is a rescue mission."

"Well," Marc replied frowning down at his drink, "that is rather more worrisome. I can see, I think, more of your dilemma."

"I wouldn't have called it worrisome, but that's just me.  Imagine for a moment that hold in your hand the seeds of life for an untold number of sentient species and all they need is time to develop.  Along with those are an unknown number of pre-sentient and sentient species that also need time to evolve where they will be unhindered and can pursue whatever path they choose as a species.  And then factor in the fact that not all of your neighbors think life below a certain level of development has rights.  What do you do?"

"I suppose you create the box. However, that ignores the threat implied in the comment about neighbors not thinking you had rights. Ergo, worrisome,"  Marc added.  "I'm also not at all pleased to think I'm seen as a charity case.  But then you are, apparently, from the outside of the box and might thus be spared the whole irritable thing I'm dealing with at the moment."

McGee sighed.  "Why is charity case the only interpretation?  But set that aside for the moment and focus on the worrisome part.  Evolution is a function of struggle for survival.  At it's base anyway, because from struggle comes development, which is what a species needs to do continually to successfully compete with co-existing species.  It's the Red Queen's hypothesis.  The point was never to seal you away hermetically.  It was to buy you time, knowing that eventually the neighbors would come to call to welcome you to the neighborhood or you'd go call on them."

"I'm not unaware of the process. I watched humanity evolve from Ramapithecines. And how did you get involved in all of this, or is that a deep dark secret I oughtn't to ask about?"

McGee hesitated, drinking down the rest of his scotch before he said, "I've direct experience with the neighborly-ness of the neighbors.  Should I infer from the deep, dark secret supposition that you're feeling played with?"

Marc sighed. "No. I'm concerned you're going to zap out all huffily if I ask a question or two."

"Except," Zaf pointed out cheerfully, "we're on Ther'lin."

"True," Marc conceded.

"Unlikely, so long as the level of directness doesn't fluctuate too drastically."

"The level of directness is remarkably silent," Marc said looking over at Dinah. "You should worry, McGee."

"Why?"

"She's far more dangerous when she's being all quiet than she is when she's flashing her baby blues. Trust me."

"At the moment she's just listening.  And they're green, not blue," Dinah said, passing the bottle.

"Uh oh," Marc said pouring himself a stiff one and passing on the bottle.  "So why the sudden willingness to be forthcoming?"

"Because I think the neighbors are here," McGee said.

"So they can come and go at will?" Marc asked. "Not a very good box then."

McGee filled his glass and passed the bottle back to Zaf.  "Unfortunately it's a function of the keys that unlock the doors.  So the hope was to keep the box hidden for long enough that its selective permeability wouldn't prove disastrous.  And there was and still is the more pious hope that the continuing evolution of the neighbors would be what one preferred."

"So what, they've come here to do what? Take advantage of the dumb ramapithecines? In that case, why shadow the two ships that indicate something stronger and wiser than much of the rest of the galaxy?"

"I don't know.  But ultimately it's a question of the pursuit of power and outside the box hierarchy is one of the underpinnings of power.  To take the box from the First Ones intact would be a major coup.  It would seriously rearrange the hierarchy.  Failing that its destruction would achieve almost the same thing."

"Can you contact them," Dinah asked.

"He tossed the ouija board the last time he got pissed at 'em," Zaf commented.

"So..." Marc said thoughtfully. "Are you asking for help?"

"I don't know yet.  The Cephi, Aaru and Ther'lin's species, are from outside the box.  But they go where they want and do what they want.  Being born in the heart of a nova would tend, I suppose, to make one rather independent.  In any case, if the two ships out there are Cephi as well, they are genetically different from Aaru and Ther'lin.  A difference most likely the result of assisted evolution."

"Ther'lin can't tell?"

"She can't get past the cloaking," McGee said.  "Nor can Aaru.  And neither of them are happy about it."

Marc nodded. "So... Now what?"

Dinah smiled and sat up.  "He didn't answer the question.  He's letting us think Zaf was accurate if colorful.  He doesn't know yet.  He's waiting for data.  But it's possible, my love, that we can contact them again."

After that McGee fed them dinner saying he was happy to keep drinking but he wasn't interested in another hangover.  He let Zaf carry the conversation, saying enough to stay involved but some critical part of him was elsewhere.  So, as he was willing to admit, he hadn't really been paying attention.  But he wasn't sure that it would have mattered if he had been either.  Regardless, midway through the meal, as they were discussing the chances of the colonists, she was there.  That's all, just there, in a chair at the foot of the table, looking as radiant as the last time he saw her.  Her appearance heralded an abrupt cessation of any discussion of the colonists.

If Dinah's beauty hit him like a blow, hers was something more profound, that operated, on him at least, at a much more fundamental level, just as it always had.  From the red-brown silk pretending to be hair that flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders and down her back to her hips, and the solemn, almond shaped eyes of matching russet, under brows like circumflexes and a mouth that merged severity and eroticism, she was exactly like he remembered, like he'd never be able to forget.  The caste mark of the adept on her forehead still glowed with a faint iridescence and she projected the same air of stillness, of inner tranquility that had nothing of the monastic about it.  She still made his mouth go dry, his heart pound and skitter, and his breathing catch and stop at the first sight of her.  He still wanted her more than anything he'd ever known and she was still as unattainable.  The only difference between the last time he'd seen her like this and now was then she'd been real, flesh and blood, living and vital and this time she was a dream.

He set his fork down as carefully as if it were a piece of rare glass, never taking his eyes from her, waiting. 

"It seems to be a night for guests. Are you going to introduce us?" Zaf asked McGee.

The question jerked him out of the reverie of memory.  "May I?" he asked softly.

"It would be courteous," she said, her voice husky and warm. 

"Zaf," he said gesturing, "and Marc and Dinah Siolastre, this is Eden'MacAshlish of House Brann'Ster"

"The reason for my friend's short temper," Zaf commented with a grin. "Hullo."

Marc nodded a hello, watching McGee out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Eden said, smiling at them all.  "I do hope you're wrong Zaf."

"He is," McGee said.  "I am...pleased to see you Eden.  You could never intrude."

"Perhaps," Dinah said, "we're the ones intruding?"

"Yes," Marc said, standing. "Dinah, we should return to Aaru."

"No, please don't go on my account," Eden said.  "I only need a moment of his time so there's no need to spoil your dinner."

Dinah hesitated in the act of standing, looking from Eden to McGee.

"Please stay," McGee said. 

She caught Marc's eye and then sat down again.  "If you're sure?'

"I am," Eden said.  "I'm only bringing a message.  And my time is constrained, as Jack knows."

Concern flared in McGee's eyes, settled in the lines around his mouth and eyes.  "What is it?"

"The Silka are dying," she said.  "The Master Dreamers, the Hopeful Ones, as they dream.  The others as well now who are in transition, though they weren't at first.  They're dying, slowly and in agony."

"How?"

"I don't know, Jack.  It starts like a simple illness.  Usually when they wake and the cocoon spins away, they emerge as if they had what you or I would call a cold.  Only it progresses and when it has gone far enough they lapse back into their dreams and can't get out again, while the dreams now are agony for them, they tear them apart."

"When did it start?"

"About six months ago," she said.  "You will come?"

"Of course," he said.  "Eden..." he began and stopped because she was gone on the breath of his answer.