"What do you think will happen, when we get to Earth."

It was more of a statement, really; less of a question. The young brunette beside him had not looked at him, nor had he moved his body in any way conducing to conversation. But, he had spoken first. Without blinking, the red head's eyes followed the contours of his body, but he did not move either. He dared not answer. The brunette's eyes became sad, and the red head feared that it was because he believed that he was not listening to him. But, looking closer at the brunette, he realized that he was not even concerned about whether the red head was listening or not. The young man was talking to himself, to his reflection in the mirror.

"It gets hard to tell, from here. So hard to tell."

The young man sighed, and ran a finger over his lips. They were red, a deep colour, and dark eye shadow coloured his eyelids in perfect strokes. His cheeks were reddened and blushing and his dark hair curled meticulously. The red head could tell he had spent a few minutes working on his looks, and on the extravagant clothes he wore. Large flamboyant feathers decorated his head and a pretty stone sparkled on his finger. Yet, it was his eyes what attracted anyone, should there had been anyone else there, in the room to look at him. Grey and hazy, they seemed to be made of glass.

"What do you think will happen?"

The red head blinked. He realized the young man was talking to him, a slight movement of his face turned towards him. He blinked, the air in the room still not quite still. The body of the dark hair young man was still nothing but a dense silhouette in the haze. Without looking at the man, he reached forwards to touch the glass where his own reflection seemed unreal.

"Too much at the same time," he said.

The dark hair smiled, but it did not shine in his eyes.

"You bet," he said in voice that seemed more like a breath. "Little time for thinking or much else, what with all the experiments I will conduct. I've seen the schedules and the pages are full of day after day of work. Am I to become a machine down there?" He ran a hand over his perfect hair, sighing. Then, he looked at the one beside him, turning towards the red head for the first time. "What will you do, down there?"

The one beside him blinked, feeling the image in the glass transform into the reality the dark hair one must be seeing, and he was keenly aware of himself, of his wild red hair and green eyes, his pale skin colour and this body, and his lost, faraway look. Slowly, he turned to face the brunette. The haze was becoming dull, letting colours and shapes become real, and he could now see the features of the one beside him. He could read the tag on the colourful dress he wore, which was apparently an elaborate flight suit. He could make out the tiny letters that read, Dr. Furter, commander. The brunette looked at him silently, waiting for his answer.

"I will save them."

The next time he saw the young man, he had been wasted. He had been sitting at the bar, his head not quite in his shoulders as his friends poured glass upon glass of a reddish wine that some of the cadets had found popular in the local bars around the neighbouring planets. Betina, the cadet who sat closest to him, kept on filling his glass all the while holding his hand as if he would run away. She had long hair that cascaded all the way down her back and large, dark eyes which made up for the fact that her chest was flat. She had come in first in her class and had met Doctor Furter during some experiments he conducted at the beginning of his training. her eyes always shone with wisdom and strength when she worked by his side, sometimes spending entire nights at the lab. Yet, sometimes when she found herself wondering the streets alone, she regretted that she was a man and not a real woman. Frank knew this was why she drank so much, why she kept on pouring glass after glass. He smiled at her from the cloud of drowsiness he could feel coming to his head. He liked keeping her company.

"This leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, Franky," Betina said, making a face. Frank looked up from his glass, watching the ripples his movements caused the liquid.

"Didn't you hear me?" Betina said, nudging him with her elbow. "Franky! You aren't even paying attention to me."�

Frank cringed his teeth, wishing she would go away. Tonight, for some strange reason, he wanted to be alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young man sit down at a table in the back of the room, cornered and in darkness. He lifted an eyebrow, wondering why he seemed so familiar to him. The conversation in the dressing room seemed like a hazy dream.

"Shit, Frank," Betina said, swallowing another glass in one gulp. "I've got problems, tons of them, and you have no time for me. Just no time. I tell you about my problems with Rooko and you don't even seem to care. I knew you didn't, I just knew, but I always think that you do care, even if you look away..."

Frank smiled, feeling sorry for his friend. He didn't mean to be so far away, lost in the mazes inside his mind. The night felt like Jello and starfish, like cream coloured candy. He had no idea why he felt so moody. His crew had been selected among the best in Transsexual and they were keeping up with the expectations of such a choice. Their mission to Earth had met no difficulties, nor had his leadership met any resistance. He looked at Betina and smiled, reaching out to grasp her hands tightly, knowing she would understand.

"Silly boy," she said. "I know you have tons of things in your head. I'm sorry to be so demanding."

"Rooko will behave. Even if I have to kick his ass a few more times."

There was a sad smile in his face. Betina looked down at the red wine, grimacing again. She pushed the bottle away from her, hoping they didn't have to swallow any more of it. "It must be hardest on you, though," she said, her voice small. "You left everything you ever loved behind. I cannot begin to understand what that can be like."

Frank looked away, feeling his eyes grow blurry from the clouds that surrounded his mind and the bar. He didn't really want to talk about the day he said goodbye, the day he had decided to come on the mission, the night when he had realized his world would be put on hold so he could research the Earth. It was part of his job, he kept telling himself. He was a doctor, a scientist; larger things would breed from his findings. Still, he had never felt the weight of his research as heavy on his mind. Out of all the strange things, one thought had recently surfaced to haunt him: what would happen when they got to Earth.
�
He didn't want to think about it.

"Who's that over there, Beti?"

Betina blinked, struggling to see who it was that sat in the shadows. She crinkled her face but only could see the hazy outline of his red hair and white, delicate skin.

"In that table in the back? Is that who you want?" She all but left her seat as she struggled to recognize the figure.

"I met him in the makeup room when I was fixing my hair. He kept looking at me like I was some unidentified space creature or something; like he'd never seen a person before."

"Oh? Strange." She reached back and drew the bottle of red wine close to her again, unconsciously pouring herself a new glass.

"He said the weirdest thing to me." Frank looked down at his glass, his thoughts lost in the swirling red. He lifted his eyes and stared at her face. "He said he was going to save the Earth." Betina's eyes sparkled with recognition. She set the bottle down.

"The messiah," she said, almost a whisper. Frank narrowed his eyes, not understanding her response. But, Betina seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. She turned to look at the man in the shadows, a smile coming to her face. "The messiah," she repeated. "He says he's the messiah."

"The say you're crazy."�

It's easy to call everybody crazy.�

"You look crazy, why blame them? You talk like a crazy man."�

You can say that.�

"You don't think so, then?"�

There's too many things happening at the same time here. TVs, radios, people chattering. Too much noise that I wish would just be silent.�

"It will be noisy when we get to the planet."�

I know; why do you think I say these things?�

"I have no idea why you say the things you say! You look like a strange creature, some kind of nightmare. I worry about you."�

There's too much noise, too much images and pictures. How can I keep them all at once in my head, when I can hardly keep up with them, with the changes?�

"You look so sad... always so sad..."�

I don't mean to upset you.
�

"Betina? Yes, is that your name?"

Frank felt his face blush as the drag queen smashed her elbows into his ribs. He didn't understand what she wanted to tell him at all, so he looked at her, not knowing what to say. The young man he had met in the dressing room, the one she had called the messiah, stood before them, waiting for her to answer.

"Well, yes," she said, feeling rather stupid. He smiled, the green of his eyes becoming deeper. "Have we met before?"

"No, no," the young man said. "Not that I know about. Not until now, but I was curious." Frank felt himself blush harder as the man's eyes focused on him. "You drink too much."

"Are you going to use the bathroom?"

The young man blinked, moving his head sideways as if he just figured out that he stood before the bathroom door and their way. He shook his head, making his red hair move wildly, but his expression did not change. Frank could not help but stare at the red strikes of colour on the sides of his temples, extending from his eyes up to his forehead. A large, bluish circle decorated his forehead, and he wished he knew why the man wore such strange decorations. Frank wondered if he himself didn't look as outlandish as the man did, and he found himself staring down at his fishnet stockings and at the ruffled feathers on the gloves he wore. He blushed harder sill as he caught himself.

"Are you going to use the bathroom or not?" Betina was getting a bit annoyed. She could get that way when she was drunk.

"No," he said. The young man moved aside, allowing her to use the door. He didn't look at Betina as she practically shoved her way through him and stumbled into the room. The young man stared at Frank, one quick glance that was lost as he was dragged out of the way. But, it was enough for Frank.

"Beti, I'll wait for you out here." he hoped that his friend would not catch the tone of his voice. But, he didn't have to worry. Betina had already stumbled into the bathroom, blindly stoned. He heard her wretch and almost pictured her before the wash basin, clutching her stomach.

"Your friend?" Frank nodded, still looking at the door where his friend had disappeared and wondering whether he should follow her. The young man was looking at the door as well. "She must be feeling awful."

"She's not always like this," Frank said. He felt ashamed that one of his crew was behaving so poorly. "Neither am I."

Allowing his dark curls to hide his eyes and turning to examine one of his heels, Frank bit his lip. He glanced sideways at the young red head. The young man was touching the side of his temple with his skinny hand. He looked genuinely preoccupied by Betina's condition.

"What did you mean..." Frank heard an uncertainty in his own voice. "What you said in the dressing room?"

Just then, Betina wretched harder, her voice sounding incredibly scared and terrible. Frank gasped, scared by the sound of his friend's voice. He burst through the door, his face pale. To his amazement the red head had followed him into the bathroom. He rushed past him and bent by the drag queen. His green eyes were wide and deeply concerned.

"What are you doing, man?" Betina's wig had tilted forwards and his make up had become runny. He pushed the red head away. "Frank? Shit, Frank. I'm dying."

"You exaggerate so much!" Frank bent down at pulled the queen up to her feet. "You're not dying. You've too much to drink. A darn fool, that's what you look like and you are making me feel like a bigger idiot than I look myself."

"Screw you! Screw the damned fucking imbecile that you are. You hear me, Rooko? Fucking bastard that you are, going out with that girl. Shit, man. Just shit, man..." Tears ran down her eyes, dragging the blue and silver makeup on her eyes, until the eyes of the man that he was could be seen. Her face became distorted and twisted, his mouth deforming.

Frank drew away, his eyes narrowing with sadness. He felt hurt, even if his friend had not even been talking to him, but staring out through space into the grief that hurt him. The red head messiah simply stared at her, his eyes calmed and composed. Both young men looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Just then, when they didn't know what to say or do next, Betina doubled over in pain, screaming. Frank reached to catch her as she fainted, her hands still clutching at his dress.

"I'm glad to see he's got emotions."

Frank could not help but smile as the young red head spoke. He felt a melancholic feeling run through his chest, and felt his eyes become wet. Looking down at Betina, she looked very much at peace. Her make up had been washed away and the tight drag clothes removed, replaced by clean ones. The face of a middle age man rested on the pillows, his hair curling naturally beside it, light touches of white on it edges. Frank felt an incredible sadness overtake him as he stared down at her.

"You should relax yourself," the red head said. He lit a small lamp by the night table. "Take it easy."

"I've no idea why we were acting like this, really." Frank sat by the bed, feeling his aching body surrender to the pain. The room they were in looked like a small hotel, like one of the fancy places he had been in when had been back in Transsexual as part of an ambassador team. The red head had changed clothes, removing the white shinny costume he had worn. He was now dressed in red, a slightly stylish dress of red. The makeup in his eyes seemed to be even darker now, but he smiled at Frank. He had taken both of them to his room in the hotel where he stayed, insisting he should grant them hospitality.

"The mission," Frank breathed out. "That must be it. The mission must be making us act all silly."

"What he talking to you, when he was angry?" There was a look of pain in the red head's eyes. Frank thought he saw a deep understanding in those eyes. It was silly, really, since he'd never known the guy. He was just some weirdo from the bathroom, some freak with the deliriums of a messiah. Frank fought hard not to laugh, but he lost the urge when he realized the red head was still looking at him, silently. He really seem to care about his friend.

"No," he said, running a hand over his temples. The dark make up on his own face had been spoiled. He looked at his hand.
"His love cheated on him. I'm just a good friend; his commander."

The red head nodded and walked away from the bed. He stood before the large window on the far side of the room. The night sky looked ever so dark, his body silhouetted against the stars and light of the city engulfed in night. Frank saw the shimmer of white shine on the reflection of his face in the glass. He could see his own face and felt a dark shadow engulf his features. He suddenly felt so ugly. He could see deep, dark lines on his face, under his eyes and mouth. The red on his lips looked ghastly.

"Doesn't it look magnificent?" Frank blinked up. The young man had not turned towards him. "The sky? The endless rows of stars out there... and far beyond that atmosphere, space. The dark void of endless universes of space."

Frank lifted his eyes, his gaze rising to the stars and the sky. There was no wind, but he could feel his body shake. He ran a hand over his arms, and felt that his hairs were standing. His voice seemed little else than a whisper.

"You can become lost in a endless darkness such as that."

The room shifted then. The hazy mist of the bar, of the bathroom, seemed to return. His eyes became blurry. He was unsure if he was crying. He was sure that he could not have been. He didn't know how to, it seemed. But, the red head had become ever so blurry. He rose a hand to still his aching head, and all threatened to become darkness. And then, he heard him. Frank struggled to keep his eyes open, but he could not. Yet, he never stopped hearing him. A soft, gentle sound of music, the faint strum of a guitar. Frank felt his body become heavy with sleep, and the music filled his ears, even if he did not know where the guitar had come from. Still, the red head played, siting down by the window. The stars and moonlight fell over his white features and he looked up at the darkness, and played guitar. A sad smile came to his lips, and he played guitar.

A smile came to Frank's lips, his body falling slowly to the side of the bed, his head coming to rest near that of his friend. And in his weary dreams, he could still hear the music.

"What do you think will happen when we get to Earth?"

Too much. At the same time.

"You bet. Little time for thinking or much else; too many experiments and chaos. Days after days of work."

I could fall asleep at night and still see them...
�
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"How much do you give the Earth?"

Five years.

"That little?"
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"How much do you give me?"

My brain hurts a lot.

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you at the ice cream parlour,

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����� - five years
����������� ziggy stardust