Boone, as calm as the night enveloping him, places the briefcase on the ground. Suddenly, the darkness retreats, stunned by the artificial brightness of which the implant is the shadowy center. The obscured faces the obscured. Boone heeds a last admonition before he addresses the Amoralist: "You must stress that he is not being retained for a simple murder; our needs are more complex."

"Don't worry, Da'an. I will. I'm just sorry that the shortest distance between two people isn't a straight line."

Boone returns from his errand to find Liam fencing with the hologram of a French courtier, not unlike the one Cyrano de Bergerac dispatches during his rhymed duel in the first act. Liam has been obsessed with the poet-swordsman from his earliest days:

"I AM Cyrano, Boone. The words are mine, but the experiences are yours, and Da'an's, and Lili's. I have three Christians. What am I talking about? I have four Christians, considering the real Kincaid. Hell, I can't even put my writing on paper, as Cyrano does. I can only write what I know, and what I know must be kept even more secret than his love."

Liam illustrates his point by mentally reciting some of his work, as he duels. He embellishes his presentation with one of Cyrano's immortal lines: "And as I end this refrain, thrust home!"

First, he treats Boone to a poetry cycle that is based, in part, upon his tank-time nightmare -- "Florae Terrarum." When Da'an hears it, he vows to expand the Embassy garden.

Then, Liam unfolds a tale inspired by The Crow: Stairway to Heaven -- "When The Bough Breaks." He stumbles across the show in a vain effort to escape the Teletubbies, who are supposedly designed to appeal to his age group. Unfortunately, a Kimera hybrid cannot be included in demographic research, yet.

Boone is visibly moved, and Liam decides that he needs a less somber finish. He chooses three slice-of-life vignettes. "They're not even long enough to be classified as vignettes, actually," apologizes Liam. They're more like drabbles of stories."

"I notice all your stories are short, Liam, but I think I know one reason why. When linked like we are, there doesn't seem to be the need for details. We KNOW. Words can be lonely, sometimes. We say everything, because we're afraid no one is listening."

"You mean my stories are short, in part, because I feel loved."

"Yes, Liam. If we are Christians to your Cyrano, it's only because we love you and want to keep you safe from anyone who might hit you over the head."

Liam completes his duel-conversation: "And as I end this refrain, thrust home!"

The computer judges, "Decision: Kincaid. Incoming communication. Jha'du'ur Cypher. Accept?"

"Yes," confirms Boone. "Inputting counter-cypher, now. Maintain scramble. Hey, Augur. Thanks for the loan. That was more cash than I've handled in five years."

"You're welcome, Boone. I just hope my old friend, Max Pratt, appreciates the trouble I went through to secure your 'venture capital.' I had to rob Peter to pay Paul, or more precisely, I had to rob one Amoralist, Declan Conners, to pay another, Max Pratt. They both launder their funds through New World Commonwealth, though, so it'll all come out in the same wash....eventually."

The screen goes black, and Boone commands, "Cease scramble."

Three hear, "Your friend is.....Your friend is."

Three answer, "Yes, Da'an. He is."

"We must hurry. Our meeting draws near. Liam, you will remain here to monitor that which comes to pass."

Sandoval has the distinct feeling that he is being watched; the onset of paranoia is interrupted by his global. "Why, Agent Sandoval, you look as if you're having a bad day....suddenly. Let me save you the effort of an indignant outburst. I'm an Amoralist; therefore, I have no identity. You may address me by any name, number, or form of abuse you wish, as long as you meet my price."

"And what is it that you think I'll be paying for, exactly?"

"Not what, Agent Sandoval, but whom."

At that moment, Sandoval wishes he were undergoing a neural block. The abrupt transition into oblivion is less traumatic than seeing the face he sees framed within his global. "Dee Dee! You can't be! She's dead! Boone....her ring!"

"Boone lied, Ron. It was the only way. It is me. I can prove it to you. We met when Alan Luce dared you to try out for the University's production of Cyrano de Bergerac. You decided that it would be the lead, or nothing, but the director said you were too 'ethnic' to play Cyrano. He also decided that I was too 'Donna Reed' to play Roxanne. We ended up performing the entire play at my place: 'And as I end this refrain, thrust home!'"

Sandoval can hear the Amoralist titter in the background, and he hears what is certainly Dee Dee's response: "Hey, no commentary."

"That's my Dee Dee," he thinks. "She's not afraid to stand up to anyone, but that was precisely the problem, wasn't it?" When Sandoval arrives to collect Dee Dee, he carries new bills and old guilt. Sandoval lets that guilt seep into his skrill. "You won't hurt my wife. Dee Dee, come to me. Everything is going to be fine."

"No, Ron." Dee Dee steps between her husband and the Amoralist. Shocked, Sandoval drops his arm; his skrill goes dark. "A deal is a deal. Boone promised him the ransom as a bonus."

"You LET Boone hire an Amoralist to kidnap you? Why Dee Dee?"

"Healing, Ron. I was having nightmares about my 'rest.' I couldn't find any therapy or any support group for people who had been through what I had been through. Then, I read an article about SenDep. Prisoners are suspended in drug-laced goo, deprived of stimuli, and later released with little thought as to what it all means. It struck a chord, Ron. I broke my silence and contacted Boone. He was the only person I could think of who might know how to find me an Amoralist -- someone with the experience necessary to understand me and to help me draw you out."

"It's been interesting, Mrs. Sandoval, truly. I've never been medicinal before. Now, my bonus, please."

"Of course," her husband interjects huskily. "A deal is a deal." Sandoval gingerly touches Dee Dee's cheek, as he hands Max Pratt the money. He wishes his skrill could absorb Dee Dee's pain from her -- pain he has never fully understood, until now.

Later, when Liam enters the scene to remove assorted surveillance devices, Da'an reflects on the images he has seen through Sandoval's offspring: "May we atone, Sandoval and I? May we take up our white plumes, or have they always been gray?"

Disclaimer: Earth - Final Conflict and all characters therein are the property of the Tribune Entertainment Company.