What is this, I can only post once a day?
Oh well, here's your next part.

Captain Tsai Rtyra stood on the deck of her new battlecruiser. She missed the Kiyan Saranai, but the Yeshi Suun was almost as good. Not enough weaponry, and she could use some speed.
She glanced at the clouds, measuring the strength of the distant storm. If they sped up they could outrun it ...
Admirable as Pilot Sevren had been, she didn't like his attitude. Pilots made it their buisness to be friendly ... a captain's job was to be aloof and commanding. It was evident he didn't like her. Well, he'd better get used to it.
"Captain Rtyra? Second mate Fayxe reporting."
"Just 'Captain', Fayxe. Report."
"Aye, Captain. The hydraulic pumps are not in top shape, but they are doing the job. We should be on our way in half an hour at the present rate."
"Speed them up. We need to be gone from this place in twenty minutes at the most."
"Aye, Captain. May I have your reasons?" Tsai frowned. Fayxe ought to have known of the storm. The Kiyan had been staffed with crew whom were the caliber of the ship. These almost were incompetant.
"Have you not noticed the storm gathering in the distance, Fayxe? We must outrun it."
"Pardon, Captain. I have been supervising the pumping, not the weather," Fayxe said stiffly. "I will order the pumping at half again the present speed."
"Do so. Dismissed." The second mate left, leaving Tsai to her thoughts and musings.
She knew of her cousin Tralion's betrayal, and of her "cousin" Zanzibar's meeting. On Firen, everyone was "cousin" to someone who was "cousin" to someone else who was "cousin" to someone else who was the "cousin" of one of her friends who was the "cousin" of her half-brother and on it went. She kept informed. She had known when Zanzibar participated in Kroys' defeat, and when he had begun his wanderings. She had been young then ...
She had often dreamed of following him in his adventures, even when he had fought the Fader Sharrakamov and survived. Always awed and slightly love-struck ...
But now she was the successful captain of both battleship and battlecruiser. Maybe when the Kiyan Saranai went in for the year-long repairs that happened every five years she would join Zanzibar. Maybe.
Maybe.

Zanzibar growled as he observed the cloud patterns over the Sareyaer Desert. His scars should convince Sharrakamov to speak, but the landing might be tricky ...
Faders were reclusive, fearfilling phantoms that loomed up out of the darkest nightmare to slay. None knew quite what they were besides hooded, cloaked figures that materialized and vanished with the windtossed leaves.
And they always left something behind.
Sometimes it was precious jewels or coins. But other times it was bare bones or polished pieces of weaponry. It was said that they possessed intelligence beyond imagination, or that they were savage barbaric creatures. If one could be defeated or amused you might live to see the sunrise ... which was their only limitation. They were creatures of the night, and when the dawn rose they vanished, leaving behind only a pile of leaves.
Sometimes.

Zanzibar arrived at dusk, as the sun was sinking behind the jagged ranges of peaks. He made his empty-handed way to a distant hill that was scarred and seared. He could wait.
The first warning always came with a prickle of fear on a cold breath of wind, as it did now. Crisped, singed leaves swirled on a wind of terror that penetrated the warmest fur-
"So you come again." The voice was no louder than the wind, and like the rustle of the leaves. Zanzibar turned.
A cloaked, cowled figure stood silently behind him. He was taller than most creatures, but this creature towered over even him.
"I came. I need help."
"Who are you?" It was not a question. It was a demand.
"I am the one they call Sia, which means 'Brother of Shadows' - but I am more the servant. I am the one they call Zanzibar, which means 'Founder of Nightrivers' - but I am more the seeker. I am the one - "
"Stop. I know the names. Proof." Zanzibar sighed with relief. He had this part. With a claw he traced the thin white scar that adorned his chest, and another, wider greyed mark on his left shoulder that made one think of a burn. The figure watched him before speaking.
"You seek the One."
"Yes." Sharrakamov meant 'Solitary'. It was apt.
The figure shimmered and the leaves swirled. The black cloak vanished amongst the leaves, and when the debris settled a figure clothed in a cloak of smoke grey. This Fader did not speak.
"Sharrakamov. Ten years ago you swore your allegiance to me - now I need you. Will you come?"
Sharrakamov nodded, once.
"Away from here?"
Hesitation.
"You will return. I promise you that."
A nod. Yes.
"We will face great trouble. I may die. You are certain?"
A nod. Yes.
"Others cannot know of you."
Hesitation. Questions; others?
"Friends. You owe me, I owe them. But you will not owe them."
A nod. Yes.
"I will see you later. I may need you in my fight against - against the Deathless Ones."
Anger, anger that sent the leaves fluttering and flaming.
"You know of Them?"
A nod. Yes.
"What of them?"
Knowledge. Personally knowing of Them.
"Are - They like you?"
A nod. Yes. Anger.
"Later. I will go now."
The flaming leaves fluttered and swirled around the figure, forming a flaming whirlwind. Zanzibar lingered, watching. As the leaves settled, empty air met his eyes. Sharrakamov was gone.

Saturn of the green eyes had given up her surname. She was just Saturn now, and she had earned enough to buy the Saret. Now she was setting out for the far reaches and dangerous jobs of the Idelo System. Her former boss had been sorry to let her go, but her resolve and attitude had toughened, and she was physically the best she'd ever been. And as time progressed differently in the Shentere, it had actually taken only two weeks. And now - she was ready.
The Saret was a battered, oddly streamlined Besrixiil XIV that resembled both Guardians and Protectors with a touch of Darkspray in there somewhere; bits of all the best. She ran like the wind, had a Darkspray's stunning maneuverability and was well armed. Thr Besrixiil ran on a fusion drive like Darksprays, but could be powered with solar. In all, it was a very efficient setup.
And it was all hers!

Saturn growled and slammed her hand on the armrest of her chair. "What?!"
"Repeating message. The Idelo System is in quarantine; you may not pass."
"By all the ill-begotten systems, why?"
She knew the answer, of course. An epidemic was loose, and the officials feared that it would spread. Hissing, she turned the Saret and moved away from the system's border, back into the Scorpti system. So much for that. Maybe Xdetra?

Wild Angel woke to the sound of the Webmaster's warnings. She wondered distantly why her neck had a crick in it before realizing that she was still in the pilot's chair.
"Wha'?" She sat upright and peered at the readouts, still in a state of half-asleep confusion. Slowly she realized what they meant.
Dreamily she looked at the visuals. What she saw there snapped her to abrupt wakefulness like a pitcher of cold water poured down the back of her neck.
A giant, stationary ship that would have dwarfed the Conquerer turned slowly on a rotating axis. It was the color of wet steel, and the legend on the side proclaimed it to be Yelantra Sentry. The bow was long and slender, sleekly gleaming. About one hundred and fifty feet back it flared out into a ever growing triangle. On the bottom of the hull, another, shorter protrusion that joined to the original seemed to be a gunning station. The entire thing was made of the wet, lusterless steel, except for the command centers, which were opaque black glass. And - the Webmaster was slowly drawing closer ...
That was some tractor beam, but Angel's ship had reserves of power that most could only dream of. Giving it the throttle, she built up speed and suddenly wrenched aside - and was soaring free, back the way she had come. At a safe distance she turned and watched the Sentry, shaken. It was as mysterious and impenetrable as the Deathless Ones ...
Which gave her an idea.