Sarel hopped gracefully off the spaceship and onto the dock, her eyes taking in the “Welcome to Tion!” sign above the main exit before turning to her companion. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she told him politely.

            “T’was no problem,” he replied, smiling. “I dun’ usually take hitchhikers, but you looked as if ya’ had an interesting story to tell.”

            She smiled and held up her card. She had a mere 30 issaics left – barely enough money to feed her for a week, even if she used it sparingly – but she had to do something in return for the ride. The cargo pilot merely shook his head.

            “Naw, you have no reason to give me nothin’,” he smiled, tilting his hat. “I was right – you had one of the most interesting stories I heard in a long time.” He grinned in fond remembrance. “All about cats and magic and whatnot. We pilots dun’ mind hitchikers, so long as they got good stories.”

            Sarel smiled in relief; she would have been reluctant to part with her money anyway. “Thank you,” she said again sincerely, and started off along the slender dock, vanishing quickly into the crowd of the busy dock.

            “T’was a good story,” the pilot repeated again, watching her go as he rubbed the stubble of his beard. “T’was a really good story.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Sarel followed the crowd along the wide hallway, looking at the main city of Tion through the bubble-like glass. All capital cities were named after their planets; it was simply more practical. Sarel knew that Tion of Planet Tion was the only city on the entire planet – and the only one they needed.

            Massive skyscrapers reached on forever outside of the glass, their dark and foreboding forms shadowing the small hallways that stretched below it. Above, small planes – not big or strong enough to break the atmosphere, but practical for use in a tight city – zipped to and fro, carrying those who did not want to use the passages Sarel was walking along. Below the hallways – for they were built some distance off the ground – the planet’s surface was almost untouched except for where the skyscrapers had sunk their roots into the ground.

            Sarel had never been in a city before, and to her it was completely mystifying. It was all she could do to avoid asking the person next to her how the skyscrapers kept from toppling over.

            Suddenly the hallway widened out, and Sarel was walking among all sorts of shops. Shopkeepers harked their wares through signs and displays, creating a bewildering collection of sights for one who had never been to a city before. Sarel was completely lost, and ducked into the only store she recognized; the weapons’ store.

            It was more of an armory, actually, Sarel realized when she entered the store. It offered both weapons and the defenses to combat them. The manager was leaning on the counter, watching for customers. To avoid being kicked out of the store – she did not actually have enough money to buy anything – she busied herself by looking at a belt designed to hold three lasers and a wallet. Sarel smiled. The only weapon she would ever need was her tenra.

            She felt someone watching her and looked up to see the manager. He was looking at the belt she held in her hands. “That one’s a beauty,” he told her, “Of course, in order to use it you’d need to have a laser first.”

            Sarel blushed; he knew she was not actually here to buy anything. “I would never use a laser,” she told him proudly. “No beam of light can ever compare to my tenra.”

            He arched a brow at the weapon that hung at her belt. “Is that so?” he answered her challenge with a smile, opening his hand. “May I see it?”

            Sarel unclipped her weapon and handed it to the shopkeeper. He looked its sheath oddly, then drew it.

            “My, it’s like them swords of old!” he cried in surprise. And indeed it was. Sarel’s tenra was made entirely out of metal, and it shone like a mirror. It was shaped almost like the blade of a scythe, slightly rounded, with a handle in the end of the blade swerving as a hilt. At each end and in the middle were empty round holes, as if someone had once stolen jewels from it. But no matter how beautifully high-tech the metal was, there was no getting around it; Sarel’s tenra was a sword.

            The shopkeeper chuckled. “This is a fine joke. You want to take on lasers with a sword? Where are you from that they still make these, anyhow?”

            Sarel smiled. “I come from Dernia.”

            The manager stopped laughing and looked up at her wonderingly. “A Dernian?” he asked in surprise. “I thought you were all done in years ago. Didn’t a nuclear explosion destroy your planet?”

            Sarel’s smile vanished and her face hardened. “No,” she told him coldly.

            The manager scrubbed his balding head. “Huh, that’s funny – I thought all of you were destroyed or mutated.” He paused suddenly, looking the redhead up and down. “But obviously not,” he amended himself.

            “Obviously,” said Sarel darkly. Unsummoned anger boiled in her. She could feel something swishing back and forth behind her, back and forth . . .

            She swallowed suddenly and tried to calm herself. It was like trying to blow a fire out; the more she tried, the hotter her anger burned.

“It’s not important anyway,” reassured the manager. “What I really want to know is why you think you can take on a laser with this thing.”

Back in her element, Sarel could feel the swishing behind her stop. “A laser is powerful, but there are some things it cannot cut through.” A smile traced along her lips. “My tenra can cut through anything.”

“If you get close enough,” the shopkeeper conceded. “But anyone with a laser could cut you down long before you got a chance to use this thing.”

Sarel smiled bravely. “Only if they see me coming.”

The manager stared at her and then shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he told her seriously, then smiled. “I feel sorry for you though. Come, I might have something for you.” He walked to the back of the store.

Too curious to protest his pity, Sarel followed, reclipping her tenra onto her belt.

The manager led her to a storage closet, where he hauled out a box. Inside were simple outfits. The manager proudly held one up. “This,” he proclaimed, “is the armor of the future.”

Sarel arched one sarcastic brow. The only thing really remarkable about the piece of cloth was that it was translucent. Through the piece of cloth shone a distorted outline of the shopkeeper. Otherwise, it looked like a normal piece of clothing – not something that would revolutionize firefights.

The retailer, noticing her sarcastic look, sighed. “The only problem is they don’t work yet.” He began to fold the shirt up again. “They were given to me by a scientist friend of mine. According to his research, if we could find a source to power them, these outfits would be enough to put those accursed lasers out of business.” He sat on a nearby box and sighed again. “Unfortunately, I can’t find anything powerful enough to power them.”

Sarel seated herself on the comfortable pile of slightly translucent outfits and grinned. “I doubt many people would be into buying see-through clothes, anyway.”

He laughed. “That’s why you wear them over your normal clothes.” He got up and walked over to her – then froze. Sarel followed his gaze to the pile of outfits she was sitting on.

Sarel leapt up. The outfit she was sitting on was glowing! Instead of a dull, almost glassy look, the armor was now a brilliant glowing yellow color, and bright as a light bulb. Sarel touched it cautiously.

The manager whistled. “I don’t know what you did, but I think you got it to work!” He lifted up the outfit and handed it to her. “Put it on!”

Obediently she slipped it over her clothes. It was a lot like a tunic; it ended a short distance above her knees, with long arms and a collar designed to protect her throat. The seams on it were odd – it was almost as if she were wearing a thick silk. Most of the translucence had been replaced by light; it looked as if she was wearing a glowing tunic.

“Try it out!” she urged the shopkeeper, looking herself up and down. The armor was very light, and the shortness of it made it easy for her to move while still offering protection for her legs.

The shopkeeper looked up at her hesitantly. “But what if it doesn’t work? I can’t just shoot you!”

She clicked her tongue. “It’ll work. Don’t worry – I’ve been hit by lasers before.”

Reluctantly the manager fetched a small, handheld laser from the rack. He aimed it at her and fired.

Sarel felt a small pressure on her arm, almost as though she had been hit by a stuffed animal, and then the tiny beams of light raced along the seams of her shirt and vanished.

“You’re right,” said Sarel giddily, “This will forever change the armory business. What’s it called?”

“Lintheil,” replied the shop owner. “But it won’t do anything unless we find out how you activated it.”

Leaving the lintheil on, Sarel walked over and touched the pile of outfits again. Nothing happened.

“Hmm . . .” mused Sarel as she looked herself up and down for any item which could have triggered the reaction. “My tenra!”

Carefully she laid the sword against the dull lintheil. Almost instantly it was glowing. Sarel smiled.

The manager looked at the sword wonderingly. “What is in it?”

Sarel glanced down at her tenra. “Just metal,” she replied, “but it is said that all tenras are forged with the fire of Life on Dernia. Maybe the way it was forged left some sort of mark on it.”

He nodded. “I must contact my friend immediately. While I’m gone, could you try to activate the rest of the lintheil?”

She nodded and set about touching all of the lintheil with her sword. The manager came back a few minutes later to find almost all of his “armor of the future” glowing and ready.

He smiled at her. “Thank you,” he told her sincerely, extending his hand to her. “My name is Kon Natara. My friend should be able to discover a more reliable way of activating them now.” He gestured toward the lintheil she was wearing. “Please, keep that as a token of my gratitude. It should deflect all light attacks, which should be useful for a traveler like you.”

Sarel smiled thankfully. She knew the armor would probably sell for thousands – him giving it to her for free was very generous.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“To Asara,” she answered. “If I hitchhiked all the way here from Dernia, I’m sure it won’t be hard to make this last hop.”

Kon smiled. “Asara is beautiful, but it’s a dangerous stretch from here to there. If you get captured by pirates, tell them Kon Natara of Zor sent you.”

Sarel did not understand what Zor was, but grinned gratefully anyway. “Thank you so much! My name Sarel Aneri. I’ll be sure to visit as soon as I have my own ship!”

He laughed. “Good luck,” he told her, waving good-bye as she vanished into the crowds.