The Infinite Nebula Star

Chrysth sat down as he returned to where the willows drooped over the benches. "As long as she needs me..." He glanced around, seeing no one and leapt to the cradle of branches within the willows, wincing as he heard his white robes tear on the sticks that caught it mid-leap. He looked at the tear blankly, as if glaring at it might return it to its original place, but to no avail, perhaps he should go with... No!, he snarled at himself, going with her is dangerous, spontaneous, this hasn't been planned, not thought out, it's a blind move that could get you killed! He pressed his bracelet and vanished to his room, laying a hand on his dresser, the solid oak seemed unsteady beneath his fingers, or perhaps that was something of himself that was rattled. His emotionless facade was fading, and fast, and with it came nightmares, perhaps he should speak with Zalla... or not. He grabbed his lamp and threw it against a wall in his frustration, making the porcelain shatter into a thousand small pieces, "I'm going to regret this..." He mumbled, "If I die, I'm going to haunt her for eternity." He flicked a switch on his dresser, making it fold and compress with almost silent whirring sounds and he threw off his torn formal robes, suspecting that he would need his battle gear on for this.

He grabbed the soft mail from his closet and threw it on his bed, the laser deflection shield went on his ankle and the soft light surrounded his legs and other... more sensitive parts of his anatomy, and the other on his wrist to span across his chest, head, back and other arm. His shirt went on, long-sleeved, moveable, and skin-tight, showing off his impressive, but wiry, figure, and tight black leather for his legs, worn in and soft. The mail came next, jangling softly as he slipped it over his head, his sai's placed in his waistband, and his battle over-robe, buttoned down the front and left to flap from his waist to the ground. His pulled on his soft black, leather boots and pulled his hair into a tight french braid (which took him less time than he cared to admit), hiding its whiteness with the hood of his battle robes. He pulled his katana from the rack on the wall and his staff from the corner, the hood falling over his eyes as he tucked away the credit-card sized dresser in his pocket.

He slapped his comm-bracelet, "Trine." His voice was sharp, edgy, and angry-sounding.

"What?" She snapped.

"I'm coming. At the docking station there is a small, twelve person ship, it's mine, meet me there in fifteen minutes along with whomever you're bringing, I won't wait." And he ended the communication, tearing off the bracelet and smashing it to bits with a single flick of his wrist against the wall, "Damn, damn, damn, damn DAMN!" He swore vehemently, running though the halls, knocking people from his path before coming to a sliding stop in the docking bay. "Blesser Chrysth Donis, requesting my ship be refuelled immediately." He said coldly.

"Permission granted. Refuelling will commence immediately, approximate time, ten minutes." The computerised voice replied.

"Blesser Chysth Donis, requesting the time frame be re-managed for five minutes." He hit the panel and placed in his override code.

"Permission granted, new time: five minutes. Is that all sir?"

"Yes. Refuel is commence immediately." He glared at the computer.

"Yes sir. Refuel is already in effect."

"Good." He pushed through the gate and trotted to his ship, the small craft was perfect for his purposes, immaculate and clean, all parts in working order. He went through his pre-flight checks as his comm-board flickered to life.

"Blesser Chrysth, what are you doing?" The Protector's voice came over the board, his face appearing on the screen.

Chrysth looked down at the panel, "I've just recieve an urgent call I must attend to." He replied, his voice frigid as he glared at the screen.

"Did you not get my message? No one is permitted to leave the planet." He said.

Chrysth raised an eyebrow, "I am not everyone, Protector, I have privleges that most do not. It is unavoidable, as it was sent to my personal chambers. I apologise Protector, but I cannot leave this be. You have no reason not to trust me."

The Protector frowned, "I suppose not. Very well, you permission has been granted, proceed." And the comm was ended.

Chrysth rolled his eyes, honestly, the man had no faith in him. He flicked the starter switch and booted his engines. His power levels were full and he had spare fuel on board to be converted as necessary, his shields were at full power, as were his gunners. In short it looked like everything was working. He ran down the boarding ramp and checked all of his external wares, narrowing his eyes at the guards that surrounded his ship, "What, pray tell, do you think you're doing?" His eyes were narrowed in icy anger and his voice made all of them stiffen.

"Protector's orders, sir, we are to ascertain that no one unwelcome boards." One of them said.

"Protector's orders, are none of mine to be obeyed, get out of my sight or face my wrath." His words were carefully controlled, but it was slipping and they knew it.

"Yessir!" They said and scattered quickly.

Chrysth shuddered, his headache was back, full-force and there was something shining on the bottom of his ship. He grabbed it, tearing from the space-black panelling, a tracker. He growled, crushing it in his fist, so he's going to play dirty, is that it? Perhaps Trine was right after all.