Hunter -- Logs

It seems like a month, but only an hour has passed since the ship departed from Fleur-de-Croix, leaving behind a nearly forgotten Browncoat medical facility that was being ravaged by the unknown assailants. Now the crew is gathered in the infirmary to ponder their next move. Wintarsen is conscious, albeit seeming a bit loopy still. The three Browncoats look a bit the worse for wear, at least emotionally, though their sergeant seems to be keeping them together.

Solbiort says, "Hokay. You three Browncoats: need you to make a list of everyvon you can think of who vas in the facility. You vork on that here, and ve'll be right outside so ve don't disturb you, ya? Elgyn, Nigel, Molly, Raj, step outside vith me, please?" She holds the hatchway open for the others. Raj follows Solbiort into the next room. Elgyn nods and follows smoothly, in his quiet, thinking pose. Nigel has been spending a lot of his time hovering over the Browncoats they spent so long waking up. He's been just a little more surly than usual, but he steps outside without a fuss.

Solbiort says quietly and quickly, "Vanted us to talk privately. Am thinking 'Kowloon Pan' should continue to Enyo, drop off those three, then schedule to head for vherever... but should actually go to, say, Skamandrios and become Chimera on the vay. Vhat you all think? Am thinking their plans heavily compromised... and also am thinking if I vas trying to destroy this entire situation, I'd be sure to have an orderly near to Vintarsen's body at all times to know vhere he vas going next. Therefore, don't feel like trusting those three. Am happy to help them out some on Enyo, but don't vant them to know our ship's new name."

Raj says, "Those three? You mean just the grunts? Why the hell not all of them?"

Nigel has his arms crossed across his chest and his eyes are mostly on the floor. Solbiort says, "Because they are Nigel's patients. Vill bet you a plat Nigel not vant to dump them yet." She grins. Nigel's familiar smirk spreads across his face as the captain makes the very true statement that now that they're under his care, he's not letting them go until he's sure they're OK.

Elgyn says, "I'm not sure we should go to Enyo, Captain. We have to assume whoever that was had some way of reading the signal we were putting out. If we continue behaving like the Kowloon Pan, they'll follow us right there. And we still don't know how fast they can fly."

Solbiort says, "Don't vant to stay any longer than to dump off the three Browncoats, di-di. But don't vant them knowing ve can change our 'look.' You vant to suggest another place to let them off?"

Raj says, "Fly, hell. All they have to do is get a message there ahead of us." He shakes his head, saying, "The Kowloon Pan identity is blown."

Elgyn scratches his chin. "We can keep that information from them... just keep them off the bridge." He looks at Raj. "Not necessarily. This seems like a clandestine operation... like they can't just call for backup."

Solbiort says patiently, "Folks, ve must have plan. Cannot space three Browncoats, cannot show them we are not Kowloon. So... suggestions?" She shakes her head at Elgyn, "If they offload and ask about Kowloon, and somevon says it vasn't Kowloon but Chimera, then they know."

Elgyn sighs. "Good point. The only problem is, can we drop the cargo and refuel that quickly? Or will we need to refuel before darting back into the black?"

Nigel rubs his hands through his hair, eyes squinting as he thinks, "I could rig us some engine trouble. Something serious enough to make us land early but not so serious we're in danger of dying out in the black."

Solbiort adds, "From vhat ve have seen so far, looks like it takes a bit of time to set up operations for them, Raj." She raises an eyebrow at Nigel, then considers, "Hmm... vould vork if there vas something between us and Enyo, di-di Nigel."

Nigel shakes his head, "I meant land early once we get on the planet. Miss the docks. Take the Chimera down out in the bush.

Solbiort considers Nigel's words thoughtfully, then nods, "Could vork. Must be someplace vhere ve not harm the Browncoats by dropping them off, though. Hokay, so head for Enyo, land early, drop off Browncoats, head off before ve can be tracked, and change ship identity on the vay elsevhere?"

Nigel nods to the suggestions, "I wasn't proposing throwin' 'em in a volcano or somethin'."

Molly remains quiet, listening thoughtfully. She keeps glancing now and then to the infirmary hatch. Elgyn scratches his chin. "There is another concern, though. Even if we are not at Enyo, if the Browncoats are, they can be captured and interrogated."

Solbiort sighs, "Can happen anyvhere, Elgyn. Ve cannot care for them vonce they are off ship."

Raj shrugs, "I don't see we have much choice. Either we go there as the Kowloon Pan, where these folks will be watching, or switch to something else and compromise that ship identity with these Browncoats who, as we're all aware, are going to get scooped up and grilled or just plain old shot... Solbiort nods to Raj.

Elgyn holds up a finger. "Actually, there is. It's not seamless though, so tell me what you think..." Solbiort folds her arms and waits. Elgyn says, "We take them to Einsort."

Solbiort says flatly, "No. Whole point of dropping them off on Enyo is because ve are vorried they are connected vith whoever is killing everyone. Vill not take potential spy to Einsort."

Elgyn blinks. "Why would they be connected? If they were, wouldn't they have not offloaded Wintarsen to the ship?"

Solbiort says gently, "Elgyn, did you hear what I said previously about how I would infiltrate the medical facility, were I the infiltrator?" Her accent is, for once, perfect.

Elgyn nods. "And if you were the infiltrator, when your friends attacked and it seemed like what you wanted was going to escape, wouldn't you break cover and shoot folks trying to stop them? After all... if it weren't for us, the killer would have won."

Solbiort says, "Elgyn, you are very honorable, but do not think much like assassin. These folks vant to eliminate everyvon associated vith this affair. Best vay to do so is to follow Vintarsen."

Raj says, "Well, if one of these fellow is a spy, he's sure got a pretty good look at us. It's going to be pretty easy for them to identify any or all of us. Changing the ship's pinger isn't really going to help much."

Solbiort sighs. "Hokay, can ve focus a bit here? Need plan for now. Are ve agreed to head for Enyo, have engine problems, stop early, and drop off valking Browncoats? And if not, state vhy and alternative, please?" Nigel leans against the wall next to the medbay hatch, eyes flicking over to the controls nervously, as if he wants to make sure it's still secure.

Elgyn nods in response to both Soli's and Raj's comment. "Your plan is fine as far as it goes, Captain... but Raj makes a good point. The only way to assure their silence is either killing them outright or bringing them someplace where they can't tell anyone what they know. And I would care not to do the former."

Raj says, shaking his head, "If we knew which weren't spies, that'd be fine. It just seems... rude... to shoot folks for no good reason, though."

Solbiort says, "Ve vill do the best ve can, as always, Elgyn and Raj. Just because ve could be tracked down is not good enough reason not to change ship's registry once they're offloaded. I am not villing to kill them in cold blood. I am not villing to abandon them on a deserted planet."

Elgyn says, "It's more than rude, Raj. It is dishonorable. But it is troublesome either way. Even if none of them are spies, we cannot assume they will be able to stay hidden. And we should also assume our enemies are master interrogators."

Solbiort says, "Elgyn, even if they are spies, or caught and interrogated, they are not the only vons who have seen us."

Raj says, "I'd be much more inclined to treat them honorably if they'd not tried to stab me in the back, Elgyn."

Nigel says, "Sounds like we might want to figure out some way to find out if one of them is a spy."

Solbiort blinks at Raj, "Vait -- these three tried to stab you?!"

Elgyn shakes his head. "I will abide by your plan, Captain... I can think of no alternative which would not put our allies at risk."

Nigel laughs aloud at Solbiort, "It's a figure of speech, captain. Betray. Double-cross."

Solbiort says, "Ah, good. Qvestion stands, though. Raj, how did any of these three betray you?"

Raj looks puzzled for a moment, then says, "Yeah. One of the nice boys, presumably from the ship that shot up the place, tried to get behind and knife me. Couldn't tell you if they were already on the ground, though."

Solbiort says, "Ah, then not these three specifically. Hokay, so focus again. Vhat benefit ve get if ve discover one or more of these three is a spy? Benefit has to be vorth effort of attacking them, after all."

Nigel slides down the wall, almost crouching, hands rubbing at his knees, "Well, someone more subtle than me might be able to get something out of them if I dope 'em just a little. It's not one hundred percent, but it can help."

Raj says, "I don't really see any real benefit to us. I think we'd just want them all off the ship as soon as possible.".

Solbiort nods quietly to Raj, then says, "Raj, did you see the von that tried to knife you? Vas he in any uniform?"

Nigel says, "I'll need to do vaccinations before we land anyway. So it might be possible to get it into their systems under that. The benefit, the way I see it, is we know if we can trust them. And if we can, we don't have to do a whole lot of dancin' around. If we can't, we... well... we might be able to find out what the ruttin' hell this whole frellin' mess is about."

Elgyn shakes his head. "Even if we can, Nigel, the information can still be interrogated out of them by our enemies. No, best to continue to let them know as little as possible."

Nigel shrugs and peers at the hatch again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Solbiort says, "Problem vith interrogating them, Nigel -- vhich of us is subtle? Raj is most subtle, but don't think he has precise skills ve need for that." Nigel shrugs again at Solbiort's point. He's drifted out of the conversation as his suggestion gets TKO'd by logic.

Raj says, "Well, yeah, I did see him and yes, he was in mil-spec, chameleon cammo (almost didn't even hear the bastard), not much in the way of identifying marks. Some odd red thing -- a half-circle in red -- on the shoulder, but that's it. I didn't really get a chance to inspect the body, though." Raj snorts, "The fact there was any ID at all shows they're not half as smart as they think they are."

Solbiort frowns, thinking, then shakes her head, "Don't know that insignia."

Elgyn sighs. "If we're going to go ahead with this plan, Captain, might I suggest we leave the system after we drop them off?"

Solbiort nods to Elgyn, "Vould like to stop at Skamandrios for refuel, make sure Five Dragons is all right and see if book has arrived in library... but that can vait. Ve still have perfectly legit reason to go back to Demeter after that -- need to pick up shuttle."

Raj says, "I don't seem much other choice. We've got to be somewheres, and Enyo's a good a place as any," then pauses. "How easy is it to change the ship configuration while we're on the ground? We land as the Kowloon Pan, then move the ship to another berth and swap out. Nothing says we can't simply arrange for two berths under different names, right?"

Nigel shakes off an apparent reverie to answer Raj, "It's hard, but I could manage it. Thing is, it's really not the most subtle thing in the world. Better to change configuration after we break atmo." He adds absently, "We could always just fly around the other side, approach from a different direction and land as ourselves. We're both listed as the same class."

Solbiort says, "Hmm. That might be best -- then ve could refuel, announce ve vere going somewhere in-system, then head out-system immediately."

Elgyn shakes his head. "Not as the Chimera. We land as the Chimera -- that raises interest. We call ourselves something else."

Solbiort says, "Good point, Elgyn. Hokay, Nigel, can you make us the Sqvealing Duckling again?"

Nigel snorts, "Sure. But I'm not sure how bullet-proof that registration will be."

Solbiort says, "Only has to last a matter of hours. After that Sqvealing Vhatever-it-vas and Kowloon Pan gone forever."

Raj shrugs and says, "Six of one... if they believe we're dropping to ground with 'engine trouble' and we simply never show up, they might assume the Kowloon Pan has crashed. Even if trying to move and reconfigure the ship on the ground were doable, simply coming in from another direction sure sounds easier."

Solbiort nods firmly. "Hokay, ve haf plan now, good. Now ve can tell the three Browncoats ve vill be letting them off on Enyo, so everyvon can scatter, ya?" She adds quietly, "I will give them my portion of the combat pay from staying on at the medical facility. That should do it. So, everyvon good vith this plan?"

Raj says, "Why are we telling them anything in advance of their need-to-know?"

Solbiort says, "Ve need to tell them at least they are going to Enyo vith us. Once ve are there, ve can tell them ve must let them off and ve suggest they scatter."

Elgyn chuckles. "For now, captain. We'll just see if the plan survives... I'm sure not looking forward to trying to dogfight with them again. Which reminds me..." He looks at Molly. "We're going to learn how to shoot better," he informs her wryly. "That was far too close for comfort, back there." Molly nods silently.

Solbiort also nods amusedly to Elgyn. Nigel pushes back to his feet and glances at the hatch again, "Look, I want to get back in there and check out my patients. All this talk of spies this and betrayal that has me just a little gorram nervous."

Raj nods, "...and rightly so. Are we done here?"

Solbiort nods, "Ya. Nigel, von last thing -- you need anything special to vake up Danviere?"

Elgyn says, "More importantly... can you?"

Nigel chews on his bottom lip, pondering for a moment, "I can probably pull her out of it... at least once I do a little research. What's been done to them ain't exactly kind and gentle. And there's one or two little goodies I don't have that I need to wake her up. Should be able to get it anywhere with a half-good medical center."

Elgyn's brow furrows. "Do you even know at this point what was done to them? I never asked you at the base..."

Solbiort nods quietly, "All right. Let Raj know vhat you need." She looks around, then nods once, "Hokay, ve have a plan." She thanks everyone quietly for their time and input, then follows Nigel into the medbay.

Nigel shakes his head at Elgyn, hands groping at the place his pockets normally are, wanting his puzzles back, "I don't know what was done to them -- all I know really is what it did to them. Their neurochemistry looks worse than a mudder after a six day drunk."

Elgyn nods slowly. "But you're going to find out, right?" he asks firmly, standing in the doorway of the medbay as Soli and Nigel go in.

Nigel nods to Elgyn, "If I can."

Solbiort smiles over her shoulder at Elgyn, "Di-di, remember saying you teach me about no teaching grandmother to suck eggs? How it go... ban men nong fu! Nigel vill do vhat is right, just as you do in your job, neh?"

Elgyn nods, looking slightly chastised. "I didn't mean to tell Nigel his job, Captain. I only mean..." He sighs. "Those people anger me, Captain. They anger my greatly." He asserts.

Solbiort pauses, still watching Elgyn... then she turns and walks back to him, giving him a strong hug, "Ve vill prevail, di-di. Do not vorry about that." Then she smiles, letting go and patting Elgyn's shoulder gently, then turns to the three awake Browncoats.

Elgyn blinks and accepts the hug from Solbiort, though seems conflicted when she ends it quickly. He does leave then, going back outside and looking at Raj. "I envy you," he says to the other veteran quietly.

Raj says, "OK, Elgyn, I'll bite. What do you envy about me? My stunning good looks? My incredible good fortune with the ladies?"

Elgyn smiles grimly. "You got to cross blades with one of them. Part of me was hoping they would infiltrate the installation... I very much wanted to darken my blade with the blood of these dishonorable warriors," he says firmly.

Raj says, "I wouldn't so much say we got to 'cross blades,' Elgyn. He made a mistake, I caught him, I got my shot off first, and he's dead now instead of me. As for dishonorable, well... everybody thinks they're the hero of the story. I'm sure he was saving the 'verse from bad folks like me, doing what needed to be done."

Elgyn seems to consider Raj's words. "One can not be a hero if one does detestable things," he asserts. "There are rules in war and in peace. An honorable soldier does not break those rules, or he risks losing himself to darkness."

Raj eyes Elgyn, "Well, that may be true, but I'm not so sure about those folks that get to write the rules. Somebody tells me it's the right thing for me to 'take one for the team,' they're going to have an argument on their hands. What happens when the right thing to do is against the rules?"

Within the infirmary, the three Browncoats are having a bit of a tough time. One is sitting with his head in his hands. The sergeant is looking rather grimly at the flimsy, upon which there are about a dozen names. The second private is likewise contemplating the list with murder in her eyes.

Solbiort says to the three awake Browncoats, "So, vhat you have, please?" She glances at them all, then nods once and pulls a flask from her hip pocket -- she thought this might make them a bit distraught. She uncaps it and gently nudges the guy with his head in his hands, handing him the flask if he'll take it.

The head-holding man barely reacts, glancing up at Solbiort, then at the flask, then making a quiet sound of gratitude, gingerly taking the flask in shaking hands. The sergeant looks up to Solbiort and nods, handing the flimsy to her. The second private continues to stare t where the flimsy was, almost as if she could bore a hole in the table with her eyes.

Solbiort quietly thanks the sergeant, examining the flimsy. If Xin's name isn't on it, she silently adds it to the end. Xin's name isn't, since he wasn't among the people killed at the facility. Solbiort says, "Sergeant, sheh-sheh for list. Am not a Shepherd, but is my thought to hold services as ship's captain, for those who... are no longer vith us. Vould you like to attend? If so, vould you like services now, or later?"

The sergeant glances at the one who looks like she can chew hull, then nods to Solbiort. "At your convenience, Captain, thank you. All of them... they were good friends."

Solbiort nods quietly, her face still. "Then ve hold them in von hour in Officer's Lounge, to give everyvon time to prepare how their teachings tell them." Nigel just silently makes sure everything is as stable as it can be with Wintarsen and Danviere, hands maybe a little jerky in their motions. Solbiort straightens, nods with military precision to the people there, then turns and strides out, boot heels clicking sharply. She hates Services for the Dead... she wishes she hadn't attended so many. But she also hopes someday when she dies that someone will return the favor for her also.

Wintarsen murmurs, unexpectedly, almost as a whispered quote, "'Friends are the last line you have against the dark night; more than orders, more than traditions, more than causes. It is by your friends that you are known by, and... and....'" He falters, sinking back into mild delirium.

Nigel scowls at Wintarsen's stats, muttering as he comes half-conscious, "Gorram idiots could have given me just one more day..." Solbiort turns sharply, her eyes narrowed, and listens... then quietly turns and leaves once Wintarsen is done.

Elgyn shakes his head as Solbiort walks out. "There is a difference between breaking laws -- laws that are made by flawed men and women -- and breaking the rules of honor. I would hope that 'what is right' would never conflict with my honor." Solbiort glances sharply at Elgyn as she paces by... but says nothing.

Raj laughs, "Well, that'll certainly be an interesting moment, Elgyn! Let's hope it doesn't happen in the middle of a firefight, eh? Nothing like a quick philosophical discussion in the middle of combat. I'm guessing your idea of 'what's right' will be more a problem with your superiors, if it should come to that. Let's not tell them..."

Elgyn arches a brow. "Solbiort is my only superior. I doubt it would ever conflict with her. She and I are well matched." he asserts.

Raj smiles, "...and you see how well she got along with her commanders, right?"

Elgyn shrugs, smiling back. "That is in the past. We answer to no one now but our own hearts."

Raj says, "Well, we'll have to see how that works out, then. I'm sure you'll get your chance to 'cross swords' with these folks sooner rather than later, Elgyn. I hope it's as... rewarding as you think it will be."

Elgyn's eyes get dark. "You have no idea, Raj." he says with dark humor, before turning and walking away. "Some folk deserve killing."

Soon thereafter Solbiort sends Elgyn around to ask all the crew to attend, in respect for the folks who died and the poor Browncoats who are left. She changes clothes into something more formal and quasi-military looking to hold Services for the Dead. She arrives early at the Officer's Lounge to make sure there's tissues and hot tea available for anyone who needs it, and wonders a bit dryly just how inebriated the poor private will be. Hopefully the sergeant didn't let him drink the entire flask himself. Solbiort waits until everyone who wants to attend is there... then she thanks everyone for coming, and starts the Service, "Run-tse de fwo-tzoo, ching bao-yo uomun (Merciful Buddha, protect us)..."

Elgyn has no formal clothing -- he's never needed it, as Solbiort has always done the formal enough for both of them -- but he does actually attend the service with most of his tattoos exposed, as if in tribute. It's the first time most of those have seen just how many he really has... looking every inch a tribal warrior in them. Nigel doesn't attend the service, spending the time, instead in med bay.

Solbiort is done about half an hour later, having read off the entire list of the dead so their spirits are remembered as they head for whatever Heaven they believed in. She will quietly speak with the sergeant afterwards, letting him know he and his two privates are welcome to share what's left of the flask in their own private ceremony for their friends. She'd suggest one of their rooms, so no one has to go far to sleep it off.

Later, Solbiort spends time with Molly and Elgyn, going over the gunnery stations with them so the ship's guns are more familiar and easily automatic to use. Elgyn is an eager learner... he's always been ill at ease with fighting shipboard, and he means to correct that deficiency now.

Two days later, Solbiort is sitting on the edge of her bed, her elbows on her knees as she rests her face in one hand. Her other hand hangs, an actual printed book loosely held between the fingers. The title is "Commentaries on The Third Way" by someone named Ng. She looks sideways as Elgyn enters, her face half hidden by the fiery-colored wings of hair framing her face. Then she nods tiredly, straightening and pushing her hair back, and setting the book aside on her pillow. "Nihao, di-di. Somezing?"

Elgyn was trying to be casual as he came in, just acting as if he was going to bed... even after the haircutting ritual, he never stopped being at his 'post,' laying at her bedside every night as he had been. Now, though, he seems surprised for all of a handful of seconds, when he realizes the tension in him is probably plainly visible to her. He opens his mouth as if to talk, and closes it... and then open his mouth again. And closes it again. He most closely resembles a landed fish.

Solbiort chuckles quietly. "Hokay, am thinking you have somezing you vish to talk about, ya? So, have a seat; I get a drink." She leans over and pulls a bottle out of the little bedside chest, then sits back and eyes it. "Not really good enough for vake, but don't have anything nicer." She props up the pillow, leans back against it and crosses her legs, then opens the bottle and gestures vaguely upwards with it, "To Griz und all her people... Freya velcome you all home!" She sighs, then has a long, slow drink.

Solbiort finishes, wipes her mouth with the back of one hand, and gestures to the foot of the bed, "Siddown, di-di. Can't share good liquor vhen you're at attention!" Elgyn hesitates, then finally sits, folding his hands in his lap and looking queryingly at the flask -- then actually offering a hand, as if desiring to do as she did. Solbiort smiles and hands over the flask. "Am drinking to their memories. Care to join me?"

Elgyn nods solemnly. He hefts the flask as she did. "To the fallen. May their wisdom in life pass on to those yet living," he intones, clearly making an oath native to his home... and then he takes a swig from the flask. As far as Solbiort knows, this may be the first time he's ever touched alcohol... and from the look in his eyes, it's quite an experience. Fortunately he's swallowed most of the liquor before he chokes, so Solbiort doesn't end up with it splattered all over her. "By the ancestors! What's in this stuff?" he demands weakly, the liquid burning a trail down to his belly.

Solbiort chuckles, neatly taking the flask out of his hand so he doesn't spill any, "Is scotch made on Midgaard. Couple decades old now." She has a swig, sighing contentedly at the smooth, earthy flavor -- then she grins at Elgyn, "First time, di-di?"

Elgyn coughs into his palm... his cheeks quickly getting red. "First time. I was offered during the war, but I never partook... I wanted my wits always about me. And only adults on Ulundi may drink alcohol." He looks a little dazed. "Potent," he admits.

Solbiort chuckles quietly, "Vell, you are now adult, so might as vell participate in vake for those who have gone to Folkvang." She passes the bottle back to Elgyn, and while he has it she recites a short Midgaardian prayer for the dead.

Elgyn looks at the flask uncertainly, then takes another swig... he's more prepared this time, and it's not that bad. "You could strip the varnish from a footlocker with this..." he comments to himself, handing back the flask. He looks owlishly at Solbiort, clearly trying to follow what she's saying... he doesn't entirely succeed, as his Midgaardian tends to be mostly conversational. "Folkvang?" he queries.

Solbiort has a slow, appreciative swallow, closing her eyes and sighing again as the very smooth drink slides down her throat. She chuckles again as she hands the bottle back to Elgyn, "Neh, vould be a terrible vaste to use somezing almost as old as you in such a manner!" She leans back, stretching out her legs and sighing gustily, "Folkvang, ya... the hall vhere the Golden Lady velcomes the brave, brought to her by her Choosers of the Slain. Ve name ourselves valkyrior in respect to her leadership."

Elgyn nods in comprehension... he feels less tense now, even a little content. He starts to think, though, that maybe it would be wise not to drink any further. Now he just has to pass that message along to his hand and his mouth, as he takes another nip from the flask. "We're going to pay them back, right?" he queries with a touch of anger.

Solbiort smiles, still relaxedly stretched out, "Oh, ya... ve shall. But tonight is for remembering old friends ve see no more, di-di." She puts one arm behind her head and waves expansively with her free hand, "Old var friends, old friends from home, family, all of them... they all velcome our new friends, ya? Have another drink to toast them all -- your old var buddies count too, after all."

Elgyn's hand and mouth seem to like this idea, and so ignore the protests his mind gives as he swallows the strong scotch. "Many good men and women died well," he agrees. "I hope they did the same!" he says fervently.

Solbiort chuckles quietly, her arms folded comfortably behind her head and her ankles crossed relaxedly as she watches Elgyn, "I take some comfort in remembering there are no 'sides' in Folkvang -- only the brave. Can meet all my honorable opponents there someday, or so the vise vomen tell me. Vould be nice to raise a flask vith them all, I am thinking."

Elgyn blinks. "What an... interesting idea," he ponders, scratching his chin with the flask... and as a result taking another sip. "Is there a hell for the dishonorable dead too?" But then he looks at the flask and hands it back to her. "Don't want to drink it all, bright star. S' good... shouldn't be wasted."

Solbiort chuckles again, feeling extremely relaxed as she accepts the flask back, "Ya, dishonorable dead are given to Hela. You don't vant to go there -- is vorse than outside of Midgaard." She has a mouthful, almost purring with contentment, then rumbles lazily, "Bright star? Heh... is not vasted vith you, silly." She starts to hand the bottle back to Elgyn -- then blinks, noticing how flushed and almost limp he seems. She gets a quizzical look, glancing at the bottle and then back at Elgyn, then smiles. "So, di-di... you say you had somezing to talk vith me about?"

Elgyn seems confused for a moment, trying to process all that was said. He certainly misses her query about his slip of the tongue... back during the events following Bellerophon, when he was sitting with her sleeping body, he called her 'bright star'... an affectionate reference to the etymology of her name, which translates to 'sun-bright.' But then he nods, his head flopping a little loosely. "I wanted to apologize, Solbiort. I was a fool. I never wanted to hurt you," he blurts.

Solbiort looks puzzled, but amiably hands over the bottle as a current solution to all ills, "Hokay, am not hurt. Uhhm... vhen ve talking about, di-di?"

Elgyn takes the bottle back without complaint... it's like an old friend now. "When we were hutting care," he explains seriously.

Solbiort nods sagely, having not a clue as to what Elgyn's talking about. "Ah. Und that vas... vhere?"

Elgyn blinks stupidly, taking another swallow. "Right here! Remember? I said... I said... I don't remember what I said, but it was stupid, and I saw, in your eyes... something I never want to see again," he drawls, his voice getting thicker, like his tongue is getting fatter.

Solbiort leans forward and pats Elgyn's knee, "Don't vorry, di-di. Haf anozzer drink, ya? I'll remember -- give me just a moment..." She settles back, eyes half closed, and considers what Elgyn must be referring to. Had to be recent, had to be a disagreement, had to be something here... hm... could he be referring to the other day when he shied away from a kiss?

Elgyn takes another swallow, swishing around the remaining liquid... how did it get so empty so fast? -and then it's as if a light goes on over his head. To be fair, in metaphoric terms it is likely barely a 10 watter, but it is burning its merry little heart out. "I was afraid," he blurts. "This... is not..." He seems to be trying to follow the thought but, sadly, that's all 10 watts seems to get him. "I was afraid," he asserts again.

Solbiort opens her eyes and regards Elgyn, "Afraid of vhat, di-di?" She tilts her head curiously at him, adding, "Surely you know vould not allow harm to come to you, ya?" She grins, "Drink it or pass it, di-di!"

Elgyn takes a quick sip and then hands the bottle to her. "Owner gets last swallow!" he proclaims. "And no, I know... I know you would never hurt me. But I do not fear... I have never feared battle, never feared death. But... I grew up learning how to fight. I never learned... how to love." He looks into her eyes earnestly, leaning in her direction. "I am lost in the woods, and there is no moon to light my way."

Solbiort accepts the bottle, has a sip, then smiles ruefully, "Ah, that. Vell, can tell you now is no easy vay to learn. Gots to just try, take your chances, und move on if the gurl tell you no. Lots of other pretties in the vorlds, after all, you know?" She pats Elgyn companionably on the knee and hands back the bottle.

Elgyn takes the flask, but seems to ignore it. "There is no one else like you, bright star. And even if there were... you captured my heart long ago," he whispers, staring at her. "I was a fool to ever deny it."

Solbiort blinks, sitting back a bit and staring at Elgyn. A moment later she grins, "Oh! I understand." She chuckles, sliding smoothly off the bed with the care of someone who knows how to handle herself when she's tipsy. She waves at the bottle, "Finish it off, di-di -- then is time for bed."

Elgyn blinks back, seeming confused... then again, he's been looking at least half befuddled for a while now. He takes the bottle and swallows the last of it, and wipes his chin. "You do?" he finally queries, starting to stand up, slipping, and then landing back on the bed... he actually lets out a giggle, as if this funny. "I think... I had too much..."

Solbiort chuckles, neatly taking the bottle out of Elgyn's hand and setting it safely aside, "Maybe so, di-di." She puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently down, then bends and loops an arm under his knees. Rising, she shifts his legs at the same time, swiftly and smoothly turning him so he ends up lying on the bed. "No vorries, though... you are fine." She slides off his boots, dropping them next to the bed.

Elgyn still seems confused, but doesn't resist at all, content to have Solbiort help him out. "You are very forgiving, Solbiort... more than I deserve," he murmurs, seeming out of it.

Solbiort grins, pulling up a blanket over Elgyn, "Nah, I've never had to vipe up body parts vith you, di-di." She chuckles wryly, adding, "Can't say the same of me. So, sleep now."

Elgyn smiles dreamily. "It's no trouble, Captain... hell, it's practically selfish..." he replies, making an amused sound.

Solbiort gets a drink of water, gulping it quickly down as Elgyn speaks, then refills it and hands it to Elgyn, "Here, drink this, di-di." As he's drinking she curiously asks, "Vhat is selfish?"

Elgyn is busy drinking, not realizing how thirsty he was... but when he finally finishes, he looks up at her with those deep eyes. "Serving you, Captain," he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed. "You are... my life... I have nothing without... you..." The last word trails off as Elgyn succumbs to blessed unconsciousness.

Solbiort takes the cup out of Elgyn's hand before he drops it, then simply stands silently for a few moments, regarding his unconscious form. Finally she smiles ruefully, pale fingers lightly trailing through the soft, short fuzz left of his hair, and murmurs with gentle amusement, "Lightveight drinker, eh? Sleep vell, little von... ve'll chust quietly not remember vhat vas said tonight, so you are not embarrassed." She picks up Griz's book, turns out the light, and slips silently out of the room, closing the hatchway carefully behind her.

That night Solbiort starts what will become a habit for the next few days... she quietly and slowly paces the entire ship, keeping a silent watch on everything, spending time observing and getting to know the ship better. The Bridge, Engineering, the ordinance and cargo areas, Medbay... she spends some time in each of them. In Medbay, as long as she's not bothering Nigel, she sits and quietly reads Ng's 'Commentaries' aloud to the two patients. As she quietly murmurs to Danviere the first night, "Don't give up on us, Danviere. Ve've not given up on you. The vize vomen of my vorld say the human voice can call back anyvon if heartfelt... I'm calling you back."

As the ship approaches Enyo, Nigel continues to work with his patients. Wintarsen starts to come bit by bit out of his delirium -- or at least, neurochemically speaking, he should be. He still sounds incredibly confused. Nigel doesn't seem entirely happy with Wintarsen's progress. In fact, half the time he opens his mouth is to swear at whoever mucked up the man's system so badly. And when it seems Wintarsen's gotten normal chemically but is still not coherent, Nigel swears even more.

One day out from Enyo, Nigel notices it first: one of the passages that Solbiort is reading (which is a quote from the original 'Third Way'), Wintarsen is matching -- at least, his lips are moving in synch with the words that Solbiort is reading. Nigel peers at Wintarsen's lips, matching his own to the movements and comes up with the fact that he's reciting along with Solbiort. "Well, I'll be a syphilitic son of a smuggler...." He clears his throat, "Captain, I think he's coming back to a little better..."

Solbiort puts her finger on her place, then looks up, "Shuh muh, doctor?"

Nigel keeps his eyes on Wintarsen's face when Solbiort stops reading, wanting to see if the man goes on with his silent recital. "His lips were moving in synch with you."

Solbiort looks interested, "Really? ...that's good, ya? Vant me to continue?"

Wintarsen does, continuing the passage even past where the quote in the book stops, his voice bit by bit rising to a normal tone: "...it is in the refusal to accept this way or that way, to refuse to accept the two choices we are given, that we find the freedom from the tyranny of choice; we make our own path, our own way, independent of what we are told are our only... our only... our... only...."

Solbiort's eyes widen -- then she calmly notes down the continuation of the original quote in the margins of the book. After that she continues reading aloud, but internally she's delighted to realize Wintarsen actually was a proponent of 'The Third Way.' Maybe he'll be able to tell her more about the book, if he ever truly awakens.

Nigel checks all Wintarsen's monitors with a furrowed brow, wondering if he can see any change when the man is speaking. Any improvement would be good. He shakes his head, looking puzzled and actually a little annoyed, "What the ruttin' hell... he seems more there when you do that... keep reading." Wintarsen's voice trails off, not completing the sentence, and he seems to lapse into a not-quite-so-fitful sleep.

Solbiort grins up at Nigel, continuing to quietly read aloud. At the end of the chapter she stops, has a sip of her drink, then sighs, closing the book. She tilts her head at Nigel, "So... how are they doing?"

Nigel shrugs, leaning against one of the counters, "They're still damn near vegetables. Wintarsen will mostly react, but it's like he's forgotten that he can be awake."

Solbiort frowns thoughtfully, studying the two bodies... then looks back at Nigel, "Could he be faking?"

Nigel says, "Not unless he can fake his brain waves." Solbiort nods.

Before arriving at Enyo, the crew risks turning their pulse-beacon code back to Crimson Chimera. There are actually a few personal messages in the package of mail that's waiting for them in Adarra's local Cortex. None that they pick up are encoded -- they'd have to actively request that mail from the nodes, which would give away their position -- but what they get is enough.

Solbiort does get a few subtle notes from Security -- through cover idents -- that her dead-drop in Adarra has messages. There's also the usual, annual notice of her outstanding flying citations. Likewise, Raj gets a few code-worded queries from Odessa to check that he's well; a similar message is from Quanyin Lei, wondering how he's doing and if he's anywhere near Boros for a drink. In addition, Nigel gets an unexpected surprise: a message from Dr. Natasha Rivenova, his old bionics professor from med school, who is in the Mishka Quad and is wondering if Nigel would care to meet at some point? The cheerful missive is marred by one from a Dr. Montressor, which quite smarmily expresses disappointment that, due to Nigel's absence from the Central Planets, he cannot therefore accept an assistant co-deputy undersecretary (junior) position under Montressor, who is now the head of the Bernadette Prosthetics Institute.

Nigel actually smiles at the invitation to meet with Dr. Rivenova, who was one of the few people at the medacad that seemed to understand his fascination with motors and engines of all sorts. The second message makes him snort and roll his eyes, "Yeah, undersecretary my shiny pink arse."

Solbiort chuckles over her citations. A moment later she frowns, then sighs at the note about her dead-drop. "Tzao-gao. Looks like ve need to make a stop at Ashtoreth."

Kowloon Pan, arrival Enyo Moon of Adarra, Miskha Quadrant.

The approach to Enyo is simple enough; local space traffic control accepts the Kowloon Pan into the local traffic patterns and directs the ship down towards Evesham Docks, Enyo's primary landing facility. Crashes aren't common, but they happen; thus the tower gets quite adorably panicked when Kowloon Pan drops off their grid after reporting engine trouble, and make little notice of the Squealing Duck as the Flying Wombat-class transport trundles in for a landing.

Solbiort makes sure the three Browncoats are ready for quick departure. She gives them the small bundle of food and her combat-pay, shakes hands all around, and wishes them well. The sergeant pauses before departing the ship. "Captain... what'll you do with... you know, with them?"

Solbiort says grimly, "Defend them as necessary until they can make their own decisions, sergeant."

The sergeant nods, sighing. "Thank you, Captain. We... we're going to get in touch with the families and friends of the people who died at the medical facility. That'll keep us occupied and on the move for a while, I think."

Elgyn arches an eyebrow. "Be careful with that, Sergeant. The enemy will very likely be keeping an eye on those folks once they run some idents on the bodies."

Solbiort nods, "Sheh-sheh. Somevon should. Am glad it is you, who knew them. Be careful. Kwai chur hun-rien duh di fahng (run far away very fast)."

The sergeant looks to Elgyn, nodding. "We're going to lie low for a little bit before doing that. Thank you, all of you." He glances at the privates, who are standing a bit away. "I don't think they'll be the same again, but I'll be with them for as long as this takes."

Solbiort nods in quiet understanding. She waves to the privates, then pulls the hatchway closed with a clang. "All right, ve're off!"

Once away from any prying eyes, Nigel reconfigures both ship and pulse-beacon, and the vessel is once again the Scarlet Chimera. Very shortly, after obfuscating their trail with another pulse-beacon change, the ship departs Enyo, heading out into the black... and this time, everything seems quiet, for the first time in several weeks if not months. Except, of course, for the two in the infirmary. Elgyn happens to be watching as Nigel does this, fascinated. "You are a wizard, Doc," he comments.

Nigel shakes his head with a snort, "I'm not so much a wizard as an anal-retentive technophile."

Solbiort officially logged Newhall as the Squealing Duck's next port of call. However, once they're out in the Black again she lets everyone know she has a promise she must keep on Ashtoreth. Does anyone else have any errands they must run nearby? Also, she continues quietly reading a few chapters of the 'Commentaries' each night to the two invalids.

Nigel lets the captain know that there is indeed someone he wants to meet up with if possible and sends a message back to his ex-professor that he would love to meet up. The reply is even cordially worded. Elgyn looks thoughtful when asked. "No errands to run... nearby, no." he muses. "How long do we plan to stay on Ashtoreth?"

Solbiort says, "Not long, di-di. But ve must collect another cargo at the very least."

Elgyn nods thoughtfully. "I was just thinking, maybe... we might find that jeweler we talked about," he suggests neutrally.

Solbiort looks puzzled for a moment -- then laughs, "Oh! Ya, that might be fine, di-di!"

Elgyn smiles, seeming relieved at her response. "I'll look, then."

Solbiort spends some time on the trip to Ashtoreth writing up two missives. The first is to her hearth mother, discussing a possible connection for the Midgaardians: Five Dragons. Soli describes the woman's great competence, ability to bring together a holding, and skill at handling people. She also explains the 'hit' on Five Dragons' holdings, noting the Dragon Lady might be interested either in a friendly helping hand from Midgaard, or perhaps even heading a new holt which would allow former Alliance folks a place to live on Midgaard.

The second missive is for her Alliance contact, and gives what information she has concerning the two 'hits' she's seen. She also politely but firmly asks them to get these folks off her back! She's got a ship and crew to care for, and would like a little pressure brought to bear on these attackers. The ship arrives at Ashtoreth with no further incident. A few days from now, Nigel's old professor will be in the world. The first things done on Ashtoreth are the delivery of messages, getting the medication for Wintarsen and Danviere, and looking for a new cargo. Once they reach Ashtoreth, the missive for her hearth mother is sent, and she heads off for her drop to send the other. She'll also ask Raj if he could keep an eye out for anything headed to the Demeter area.

There don't seem to be any encoded messages for the crew, once they've landed. Raj and Solbiort have a couple each of regular messages -- both are more official inquiries as to their status, though one for Raj is from Odessa's brother, asking if he runs into 'GOOD black bread!' since the baker near Odessa's home has 'hard tack that would only be fit for making bricks out of!' A reply from the doctor comes fairly quickly to Nigel's response, though, and includes her -- encrypted -- schedule for the next few months as she tours Mishka. It should be relatively simple to run into her at any given time. Elgyn sets out as soon as possible with the steel hair sticks, seeking out a jeweler that can craft some decorations onto it in a short time... perhaps some semi-precious stones?

Solbiort checks the Ashtoreth dead-drop. The encrypted message is rather short and concise, and requests information regarding the hit on Five Dragons' operation on Skamandrios. A second message in the drop goes on to request any information she might have regarding pirate activity. Solbiort smiles, rather pleased she has the message all ready to go. She 'waves it off, carefully encoded as per their instructions, then stretches her arms over her head, languidly considering what to do next. Some shopping, some food, maybe wander around and sightsee a bit...? Idly she wonders what happened to that cute little contact she had last time she was here.

Solbiort goes to lunch at the bar recommended by Guyon, the wharfmaster of Asherah City. While there she checks various libraries and other information sources to see if a copy of 'The Third Way' has arrived or not. She also searches for any information on the cultures of Ulundi, in general, and for the rituals of passage for males in particular. She keeps an eye out for the clan named 'Musere' in any of the writings, also. She has a 'fine, fine lager' while she reads and searches, and eats the Ashtoreth Plougher's breakfast. Absently she agrees mentally with Guyon -- it's quite tasty and filling! She winces mentally, remembering some of Molly's attempts at cookery, and amends her previous statement: and edible!

Being a Border Moon, there's not much call for information on Ulundi outside of its role in the War. There's very little anthropological researched published that's available on Ashtoreth at this time, though the librarian puts it on the list of things to get during the next 'wave to a larger library. What Solbiort does find is mostly things written very shortly after and during the latter stages of the war, and most of it is 'research pending.' The biggest concerns of the anthropologists are what Alliance rule over the planet will do to the indigenous culture. No copy of 'The Third Way' has arrived yet, though a few more books by the same author came in -- works predating the war.

Solbiort will curiously pick up any of the books that seem at all similar in subject matter. She wonders if her homeworld already knows about 'The Third Way,' since that's pretty much what they've been deliberately aiming for (as far as she can tell) for over a decade now. Then she suddenly grins mischievously, wondering if the disappeared author is on Einsort... or perhaps Midgaard?! A few minutes later she sighs quietly, reading about Ulundi, and morosely wonders if there'll be anyone left who can help Elgyn once she gets him there. Nevertheless, she reminds herself, it must be done.

Solbiort will, once she's done with lunch, browse around to make a few purchases... including a brush for Elgyn. She suspects he's not realized yet he'll eventually need one. The other stuff she tucks away for later. She ambles out to where she met the contact last time, since it's a pretty little park, and settles on a bench, enjoying the sunshine on her skin. Admittedly the general temperature outside is a bit hot for her, but she does like the sensation of unshielded solar radiation that's not about to burn or otherwise damage her. Once she's comfortable she decides to check the drop again... it's unlikely, but maybe there's something there for her by now?

In fact, there's more than just an acknowledgement; though still encrypted, there is a request for an immediate meeting at 3PM local in the same place she met the agent the first time on Ashtoreth. Solbiort raises an eyebrow... then grins mischievously, "Jing-tsai! Always got time for swai boys." She's already there, so she checks local time.

It's actually a few minutes before three. Shortly, Solbiort notices a little more activity in the park than is normal -- nothing and no one she can directly put a finger on. It isn't long before the same agent approaches, looking a lot more serious this time. Solbiort looks around and sighs faintly, wondering what Five Dragons is up to... then her casual emerald gaze sharpens a bit, noticing the activity. Is she getting surrounded? She casually taps her comm, making sure it's not being blocked.

Solbiort's comm isn't being blocked, and there's no immediate sign of being surrounded. The activity in the park diminishes a little as the agent finally reaches Solbiort. "Major," he greets her quietly.

Solbiort stretches out casually on the bench, her arms along the back and her booted ankles crossed. "Vell, nihao, swai-swai. Vhat's up vith you?"

The agent smiles a little at being called 'cutie.' "Not terribly much, Major. You made a bit of a stir with your message."

Solbiort gets the vague impression the activity was probably folks dispersing somewhat... maybe? She nods, patting the seat next to her in invitation, "Tell me more?"

The agent settles into the seat beside her, leaning back and folding his arms, sighing. "Well, where to begin. For starters, thanks for passing on what you knew about those two hits. We thought them unrelated, but now we're not so sure. The level of professionalism -- I use the term loosely -- the 'no quarter given' approach... even, from what we've been able to find, the use of no unique or non-standard armaments. They were damn well orchestrated."

Solbiort nods and murmurs laconically, "Ayoup." Her hand rests lightly on his shoulder, so they look friendly to any curious passers-by.

"By all rights, they should be some Alliance commando group, maybe operated by the space forces marines or the Special Operations Brigade. Hell, maybe even Military Intelligence. Trouble is, they aren't. All the specops groups are accounted for and are not conducting these operations. The other option is they're Browncoats." He pauses. "In reality, we don't know, and we don't like not knowing."

Solbiort nods slowly, considering, then murmurs, "Vas afraid it vouldn't be us. Any ideas on the insignia?"

He shakes his head. "The Military Heraldry Institute has no record of any unit with that insignia, Alliance or Independent. And we found nothing about any contemporary terrorist group with that symbol, either." he glances to Solbiort. "I'm afraid there's more."

Solbiort grins lazily down at the young man and murmurs, "There alvays is, swai. Go on."

"Local law compliance forces responded to the hit on Fleur-de-Croix about three hours after they got reports of smoke rising from the location. They showed up and found the entrances blasted and destroyed. They cordoned off the area, called in the Alliance when they guessed it was some sort of underground base. We gave them some cock-and-bull story about it being an Alliance base, and they backed down." He fidgets noticeably, letting out a breath. "Security sent a team in. They were some of the best, trained in excavating abandoned 'high concealability' facilities left over from the war. I knew some of the people on the team -- they'd worked a bit on Ashtoreth's munitions factories a year ago...."

Solbiort raises an eyebrow, "Got blown up?"

The agent takes in a shaking breath. When he speaks, his voice is almost a whisper, "By a gorram nuke."

Solbiort gently strokes the shaking boy's hair and says nothing. She is patient and slow, and doesn't rush. Once the boy is no longer quivering, she murmurs softly, "Confined, or is the city gone too?"

"Confined. Completely underground, and it was a relatively small and clean fuser. But it took out everything in the base -- destroyed it completely." He sighs. "During the war there was always this... unspoken agreement neither side would use nukes. We were both fighting for the same thing, after all. And the Browncoats usually didn't go for scorched-earth strategies. There were a few exceptions. Shadow... a couple others. But never nukes. Just too damn dirty. Radiation doesn't care if you're purplebelly or browncoat." He shakes his head, regaining some composure in part thanks to the touch. "Whomever's doing this just jacked up the ante. And with Wintarsen involved it's making Parliament and the Shi Kai crap their robes."

Solbiort rumbles quietly, "Don't think it's the Browncoats, swai-swai. Or if it is, it's a ruthless branch that doesn't share their core philosophy." She's silent a moment, then murmurs quietly, "Ve need to stop them." She's silent a bit longer, then adds, "Did you notice that interesting bit about Xin's body and the cryobox? Am vondering if that's vere Vintarsen and Danviere are now, or still." She glances down at the smaller agent, adding soberly, "Vhy vould Security keep three people in cryoboxes for almost a decade?"

The agent looks back at Solbiort. "You think they were in stasis all this time?

Solbiort says, "Vhy else vould there be a cryobox there? And vhy else vould he be gaunt and dead, and resting in it?" She considers, then growls, "And vhy else have ve heard nothing about Vintarsen rising again?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Packing them away to smuggle them somehow... I don't know. I guess that makes sense. It'll be years before we're able to safely excavate the base, though, with the fallout. Maybe there was an argument, maybe there was... gah! I wish I knew, I wish we knew, but we have nothing."

Solbiort gently shakes the agent's shoulder, admonishing him. "Stop that! You do know things. You know Ariel vas terrified of Vintarsen getting out. If they vere frozen, it vas there. Vhy vere they frozen and so held on Ariel? Find that out -- find those people and interrogate them! Vhat did Vintarsen know that caused him to be put on ice for the rest of his natural life?!"

The agent leans back, sighing, then nods. From behind the two comes an older and quiet voice which says, "And were the people who were in charge of Ariel Max-Sec still alive, they would have a great deal to answer for to Parliament, to the Shi Kai, and to Security."

Solbiort is fortunately not surprised; the man is stepping quietly, but not trying to sneak up. She politely swivels her upper body towards the man, leaving her left arm on the back of the bench. Her right hand is held low, mostly shielded by her torso, as she lays her pistol across her right thigh, aimed towards the approaching man. She doesn't want to brandish it, if at all possible -- she's trying hard to remain discreet -- but she will protect herself and the young agent if necessary.

The agent, who also was not surprised at the voice, glances to the man and straightens. "Er... I'm sorry, Major. This is Colonel Lu Yuan, commandant of Security for Adarra."

The man bows politely to Solbiort, not letting any hint of his apparent great age show in the gesture. He looks to be at least seventy, though all told he's likely somewhat younger. "A pleasure, Major. I have followed your reports with interest. They have always been helpful to our work here in Adarra."

Solbiort quietly and smoothly slips her pistol back into the holster and rises herself, also bowing politely, "Colonel. An honor." She waves a hand at the bench, "Would you care to join us, sir?"

"Thank you, Major. I am grateful." He settles himself into the seat with a bit of an exhalation of exertion. Though he appears fit, age has apparently not treated him quite so well. "As I had mentioned, and I hope you forgive me for interrupting," he says, "but the young man is not privy to this information. Shortly after Security received informal permission to interrogate the involved parties of Ariel Max-Sec, they were found dead."

Solbiort nods, gently nudging the young man over to make room to seat herself as well, "Somehow, sir, I am not surprised. Vere they murders or suicides?"

The Colonel says wryly, "I think a more apropos question would be if they were coincidences. To which I would say: no. One of them suffering a fatal heart attack, having had a history of medical stress and heart conditions, I could understand. But as one bead in a necklace of no less than seven accidents, suicides, muggings, and a... hmm...." He digs through a pocket, putting on reading glasses with one hand and holding a flimsy with the other. "A 'catastrophic engineering failure in a suspension bridge spanning the Mile Chasm on Londinium.' Hmm. No, I do not believe in coincidences, Major. Someone went to a great deal of effort -- and a shocking amount of collateral damage and peripheral casualties -- to silence the senior staff of Ariel Max-Sec."

Solbiort sighs, automatically putting a comfortable arm around the shoulders of the little agent, and considers. "So... ve have some hwoon dahn who is not Browncoat and not Alliance, who is spending an otumlas' assload of plat to get Vintarsen, and who is killing everyvon who vas even remotely associated vith his violent removal from Arial." She considers, then glumly adds, "I'm next. If I have to be bait, I'd like to be nasty poisonous bait, sir."

The Colonel puts his glasses and the flimsy away. "We have not yet ruled out them being Browncoat, but to do that we must also not rule out they are rogue Alliance. Either is unacceptable, and unless we are given a direct order from Parliament and the Military Council, we consider them a threat to the safety of the Alliance and its people. Why are you yourself next on their list, Major?"

Solbiort says, "Because I have the last remaining ship associated vith the group that swarmed Ariel, sir. Admittedly, I have it because the pirates who used to own it vere fong luh and attacked us... but I'm on it now. Also, ve followed the flight path it had planned that ve could decipher," she grins unrepentantly, "-because ve're nosy and curious -- and vhat a surprise, one of the places ve docked had an accident, and ve vere informed of another very similar accident nearby."

The Colonel says, "Ah. Of course. Well, then. If you feel they will be after Scarlet Chimera next, what do you propose?"

Solbiort smiles lazily at the Colonel, "I propose you help me draw them out into the open, sir."

Lu Yuan nods. "A touch difficult without knowing what precisely will attract them."

Solbiort says, "But ve do know, sir. Ve know the Chimera vill draw them. Also, I bet if ve can find Five Dragons, or vhatever's left of her family, and find the relatives and remains of those who vere on that other vorld, and offer them a chance back at those who attacked them... that'd draw out our nasty hwoon dahns too. Pardon me, sir." She pauses, then growls quietly, "And if ve find him first... ve know Vintarsen vill draw them like moths to the flame. Sir."

The colonel nods slowly. "In essence, you propose gathering all their loose ends together in one place -- aboard your ship -- and use that to get the hundan out into view?" He seems no stranger to cussing.

Solbiort says, "Neh, sir, but I propose the Chimera vould lead them nicely to vherever ve might choose to gather all those who've been unjustly harmed by these hw- er... hwoon dahns, sir."

The colonel nods slowly. "Whomever they are, they have shown no scruples or restraint."

Solbiort sighs faintly, "Sir, should I take that as a 'ya,' or as a 'you're on your own, soldier'?"

He shakes his head. "We do not leave anyone on their own in dire straits, Major. That is neither Central nor Alliance policy. You have the closest thing to a plan that makes sense to me. What assistance will you need?"

Solbiort draws a slow breath, relaxing slightly -- the young agent may feel the pressure of Soli's hand on his shoulder lessen fractionally, in fact. Then Solbiort focuses on the question her superior officer asked. A moment later she says thoughtfully, "Information first, please, sir. If ve find Vintarsen's body in a cryobox like Xin's, vhat do you recommend? Also, vhat if he is still alive?" She considers, lightly running one fingertip of her free hand over her lips, then adds in quick order, "If I can find Five Dragons, vhat assurances can I offer her? Vhere vould you suggest the Chimera apparently flee to, in order to draw them into ambush? Can you get the affected there first, discreetly? Do you have anyone the Browncoats vill trust that can contact them? Vhat forces can ve commit to this operation?" Then she looks up and adds apologetically, "That's it off the top of my head, sir."

The Colonel folds his arms, leaning back in his seat as he studies Solbiort intently for several long moments... she waits calmly. The Colonel purses his lips, then nods once. "All right, Major. Fair enough questions. Wintarsen is eligible for the amnesty granted to all persons at the end of the War. If he accepts it he is a citizen of the Alliance and thus to be protected as such, regardless of his actions during the War. Anything more and he will be judged as appropriate by a civilian court of law. In other words, it is entirely up to him as to what happens to him." Almost as an afterthought he adds, "If you find him and he is awake, that is."

Solbiort nods, and waits for the Colonel to answer the other questions as well -- those she actually considers more important right now. He continues, "As for where to go to... I will have to do some research. I believe one of the less sparsely inhabited Border Moons in this Quadrant will be suitable. I will see who in the Alliance can be trusted to contact the affected people. As for forces... at this time, Security forces in Adarra. How much more depends on how much cooperation I get from other people in the Alliance military."

Solbiort nods, relieved again. "And Five Dragons, sir?"

The Colonel considers. "She is an avowed criminal, placing herself outside the law of the Alliance." He sighs, shaking his head. "But at that, she's at least better than those such as Boss Higgins. For the duration of this... crisis, I will see to it that law compliance forces do not attempt to arrest her, and so long as she does nothing in excess in the future, said law compliance forces will... look the other way. Though Parliament is used to such... 'gray' arrangements, do not doubt that this will take some effort."

Solbiort sighs quietly and nods, "I don't, sir. Sheh-sheh. I suspect she'll be very helpful." She doesn't bother dissembling about whether she can find Five Dragons, since the Colonel has been kind enough to help her too. Instead Solbiort adds quietly, "Vhat further information might be of use to the colonel in this endeavor, please?"

The Colonel gives a bit of a sour smile. "The colonel would be quite pleased to know what these hundans' intent is... but he will settle for an end to this. We will gather the needed resources and contact you as soon as we do." Solbiort raises an eyebrow, faintly surprised the colonel didn't quiz her at all on her knowledge, or ask her for more -- but oh, well! She's not going to try telling him his job. He murmurs dryly, "One last thing, Major... how will you explain this to your crew?"

Solbiort smiles relaxedly, "Truthfully, sir. Same as I explained to you." She turns her head to grin slightly at the young man still seated next to her, then looks back at the Colonel, the humor gone from her cold green eyes, "Vhat I intend to find out, sir, is vhat Vintarsen knew that vas so dangerous, so terrible -- and who it vas who vas so threatened -- that he vas frozen for ever. Now hundreds are dying for that secret... and I think the cost is too high. Time for it to die."

Solbiort gently nudges the young agent and murmurs, "Could you make a list, please, pretty?" Then she looks at the colonel, "There are a few other pieces of information I'm having trouble finding, vhich I suspect vill be easy for your people to produce, Colonel. I vould like a copy of Gustavia Orinel's book 'The Third Vay,' and any of the most recent writings of Vintarsen himself. I'm also interested in anything by February Danviere, Vintarsen's other 'second' aside from Xin."

The agent blinks, then pulls out a small terminal to make notes on. The colonel arches a brow. "'The Third Way,'" he says thoughtfully. "Hmm. I've heard of it. I'll see if I can get hold of it, but may I ask why? As for Danviere, I can forward you her file as well if you like, as well as writings by or attributed to Wintarsen."

Solbiort looks pleased, "Sooner the better, sir. I think our answers vill be in 'The Third Vay,' actually." She starts making points on her fingers. "Vhat's halfvay between the solar planets and the border moons? A half moon -- the middle vay, the third vay. Vhat exists in both purple and brown? Red. Vhat's midway between the belly and the back? The shoulder." She smiles in faint amusement at the Colonel's affected lack of knowledge of the book. She'd be surprised if there wasn't a copy in Security's library... probably right next to Wintarsen's writings... and probably a few antiques from Earth that Was, like Machiavelli or Sun Tzu.

Solbiort goes still for a moment at a shocking thought: if the Third Way is something Einsort and Midgaard are both potentially doing... Midgaard has the tech and the money to field such a force as this hostile, brutal, explosive group. Solbiort feels for a second like her hackles are rising at the shock of that thought... and then she takes a deep breath and mentally chastises herself. The Circle of Vi'sindakona would never condone that!

The Colonel stares at Solbiort for several moments. "That is...." His eyes flick to the agent, then back to Solbiort. "Fascinating. And disturbing." He stands a bit abruptly. "Major, there are some things I need to look to immediately. I hope you will excuse me, but I fear this cannot wait. In case you hear of my demise, or the compromising of the Security department of Adarra, I want you without regard for your cover to proceed immediately to the Shi Kai on Sihnon." He adds, "And needless to say, I recommend you do not tell anyone else whom you do not trust with complete and utter surety of your speculation."

Solbiort looks up at the Colonel, her eyes widening slightly... then she rises and gives a militarily precise bow, "Of course, Colonel. Who should I ask for?"

The Colonel pauses. "If it comes to that, you will ask for 'Skadi.' The Shi Kai will know whom you must report to then."

Solbiort nods calmly, "If I do not live at that time, I vill endeavor to send someone in my stead, sir." She adds quietly, "Is there any other information you can give me, sir, so it does not die vith you?"

He nods seriously and places a hand on Solbiort's shoulder. "I have suspicions, Major -- nothing more, and I hope they are wrong." He pauses. "I have but one last question for you before we must part. What do you intend to tell your crew regarding your affiliation, and will it cause issues?"

Solbiort smiles again, looking down at the Colonel, "I vill, as alvays, tell my crew the truth, sir, if it comes up. I doubt it vill be an issue, considering ve are all on the same boat, so to speak... vhich these killers vant destroyed."

The Colonel nods. "Very well. Good fortune, Major."

Solbiort takes one step towards the Colonel and whispers very softly to him, so the agent does not hear, "Vintarsen lives but is not awake, sir. Ve vill do our best to keep him from the killers." Then she steps back and gives a proper, respectful bow, "Sheh-sheh, sir, and to you also."

The colonel's expression softens a little, and he nods. "I thought almost as much, but not the fullness of it," he murmurs. As she steps back he speaks normally: "Thank you, Major." He looks to the agent and nods. Looking a little confused, the agent stands and, nodding (a touch shyly) to Solbiort, is herded out of the park by the Colonel posthaste. The Colonel is already pulling a terminal from his pocket and tapping out messages upon it one-handed.

Solbiort smiles at the agent, then sighs a bit as she watches them leave. She'd been hoping to maybe steal a few kisses... ah, well. She settles back down on the bench -- it's got a lovely view, even if it doesn't also have a swai boy on it now -- and pulls out her terminal. She'll check it for the writings she requested, in about half an hour. For now she's just had an inspiration -- she'll track some of the researchers of Ulundi, with all their 'research pending,' and see if any of them are anywhere close by. One of them might be interested in talking to a native, after all... and then maybe she can get a bit more information on this ritual her poor Elgyn needs so badly.

None of the anthropologists who have been studying Ulundi are apparently on Ashtoreth -- which is probably to be expected, considering the size of the 'Verse and the distance from Adarra to Eclipse. Solbiort calmly tracks down all the ones she can find, locating them to see which are closest. If a Central doctor is willing to look up Nigel, who knows what driven, dedicated researchers will do to reach and talk to an Ulundi native?

Unfortunately the researchers who are studying Ulundi seem to mostly actually be on Ulundi, or at least on a moon of Eclipse. One professor who had been peripherally involved with anthropological studies of Ulundi is on Boros, teaching at that world's university. Solbiort hms thoughtfully. She could take everyone for a visit home, and swing by Ulundi... but she'd really like to have a bit more information and a bit less of an explosive following by that point. However, there is the professor nearby on Boros... that sounds promising. She checks the professor's data on the 'wave, wondering idly if she or he is cute.

The professor's entry in the university directory goes far beyond mere 'cute.' Tall, slender, with long straight reddish-auburn hair and gently laughing eyes, he'd quite likely make a somewhat desirable horse on Midgard. Solbiort raises an amused eyebrow -- mmm, brain candy; what a temptation! She grins ruefully at herself, then composes a polite missive asking if the professor has any writings he'd be willing to share with her concerning either Ulundi's rituals of passage (specifically the one to manhood) or the Musere clan, and also if the professor would be interested in speaking to a native Ulundian.

Solbiort sends her message; Boros is a little ways away and she does not expect an immediate reply to her message, since it's possibly late at night or even in the middle of a class for the professor. She sighs faintly, smiling... he sure was a pretty-pretty -- red heads are good luck too, on Midgaard. She chuckles to herself at that, knowing quite well it's a myth. She's a redhead, and if she had any luck she'd have a true love by now. She sighs faintly again, then mentally corrects herself. She will find one... she just has a few small things to take care of first. Like... like this issue with the Indeps. It's been about an hour now. She checks her drop for the writings she requested.

There are a number of documents by or attributed to Wintarsen. Most are military tactics precises, a couple are more political treatises -- but no 'The Third Way.' The only thing relating to it is a note appended to the drop: 'We have not found the document you requested. It is possible that it did not originally exist in compiled form. Yes, this is irregular. We will continue to search. -Col. LY'

Solbiort sighs again, stretching out her legs and relaxing on the bench a bit. Whoever has set up this entire affair with Wintarsen has obviously been working on it for a very... long... time. To make all the copies of a book disappear -- astonishing! Even stranger that the Colonel would not know well such a potentially divisive treatise. She frowns, deeply troubled. Could the Colonel be one of them? She sighs again, rubbing her face tiredly. This is by far the most difficult time she's had recently, at least regarding being a good and honorable valkyrie. To help center herself she reviews the valkyrior values and virtues: generosity, honesty, justice, strength, ferocity, fearlessness, and courage.

Solbiort smiles ruefully. Generosity and fearlessness had always been the easiest for her. Courage and strength followed that naturally. Honesty improved with practice. Justice and ferocity, though... was she just? For that matter, was she any good any more at ferocity? What would she do if the Colonel turned out to be a turncoat? Dryly she suspects she'll just die, considering the amount of explosives the unknown killers are lobbing about. Then she frowns, this time at herself. No. That would not be justice... she cannot think like that. If the Colonel turns out to be a turncoat, she'll simply have to fight back more effectively -- and the first way to prepare for that is to continue researching the lost book. She's got librarians looking for copies. She'll start compiling all the quotes she can find into a single file too. What else... start searching for who's been asking for copies of the work, start searching for Orinel herself... Soli nods once to herself. She needs a hacker.

Solbiort idly (and somewhat hopefully) checks for any messages from swai professors on Boros. She's vaguely disappointed to realize it's quite late there right now, the professor's probably asleep, and there are no messages for her yet from him. She mutters, "Tzao gao!" Then she blinks at a sudden thought -- wait! Didn't Nigel nicely crack the coded locks on the pilot's board of the Chimera? Wouldn't that imply he was a hacker? She grins wickedly -- fortunately no one who knows her is nearby to see that warning expression -- and happily makes a note to herself to see if Nigel can help.

Surprisingly, a message arrives at that moment from Professor Alexander Kali:

Dear Captain Skialdmeyjar,

I am flattered that you have chosen to contact me, and you have most definitely piqued my interest. I was, as you surmised, studying Ulundi for a time, but I surrendered that research shortly after the Alliance tightened their restrictions on visitors. Many of the other researchers managed to remain on Ulundi based on their credentials and influence. Unfortunately, I did not share their advantages and contacts, and so I returned to Boros. This being said, I would welcome the opportunity to speak with a native of that world.

I am nearing the end of the semester, and in several days I will have the span of a month within which I might be able to travel relatively freely within Adarra. Please let me know how I might best reach you and your ship in that time period, if you will be remaining on Ashtoreth, or if I might better obtain passage to another world on your route.
Very Sincerely Yours,
Alexander Kali.

Solbiort brightens -- hey, things are looking up! She beams, her emerald eyes gleaming as she reads. Lovely name, she thinks absently. She frowns thoughtfully when she's done. Staying in one place for long could be dangerous... on the other hand, if she had to choose a place to stay for any extended period, surely right on top of the Adarra Security offices would be wise? Or at least allow for them to sift through the debris efficiently, the sarcastic side of her brain returns. She grins mischievously, then checks to see if the pretty professor is reachable through the 'wave. She grins to herself, wondering if Elgyn will be willing to talk to the man. She hopes so, after this lead-up!

Solbiort sighs gustily when she realizes the professor isn't chattable right now... then grins amusedly at her reaction. She mutters, "Go hwong-tong, Soli! You're a big girl and you have a lovely crew at home on the ship. No sighing over distant pretty boys!" She chuckles, rising and tucking away her terminal as she strides for the ship. It's about time to take her turn at ship's-watch duty anyway... she can read the new writings she has then, and check with Nigel about the things she's curious about regarding the 'wave.

A short while later, Solbiort strides into the cargo bay of the Chimera, smoothly swinging the hatchway closed behind her. She glances at Elgyn working out, then smiles and circles around the room's perimeter so as to not disturb him. She slides quietly through the engineering airlock... then a few moments later the airlock hisses closed behind her again as she re-enters Cargo. She settles relaxedly on a crate, her booted ankles up on another as she leans back on her elbows, waiting and watching with interest until Elgyn's completed his workout.

To any normal outsider, Elgyn's workout seems just as any. If anything, it seems on the calm side. But to Solbiort, who knows him well, there's a tension in his movement, a viciousness in the way his eyes are set. His gaze seems far away, as if not so much working out as striking home at unseen targets. Part of him almost seems primal as he lashes out with his knife. "Did you want to join me... Captain?" he queries then, without looking at her, coming to a rest position. He says 'Captain' like, at first, he's not sure how to address her.

Solbiort brightens -- just the thing she needs to work off this mood! She grins, swinging her booted feet to the ground and rising in one smooth movement, "Vunderbahr idea, di-di!" She swiftly yanks off her boots and unbuckles her weapons belt, leaving them off to one side with her vest tossed over, and turns to pace towards Elgyn, stretching as she moves. She adds, "Got you a present vhile shopping, di-di... vill give you later."

Elgyn blinks, surprised. "You didn't have to do that, Captain..." he murmurs, sheathing his krisara and putting it on a nearby crate. He's dressed only in shorts, his muscled body gleaming with sweat from his earlier exertions, which he dabs at with a nearby towel, absently watching Solbiort as she gets ready.

Solbiort finishes stretching and grins at Elgyn, her emerald eyes gleaming as she casually flips her braid over her shoulder. The absent thought occurs to her that hair feels really nice on bare skin -- then she pushes that aside and answers, "Felt I should. Got a qvestion for you, too. If your people call me your sonia, vhat do they call you to me?"

Elgyn appears to consider that, distracted from the idea of a gift by the question that seems to gain his interest. "I am not sure. I am not precisely... we are not in war, so we are not part of a unit. Neither are we scouts or clan guardians. The oath, I suppose would be the most significant... they would name me 'oathbound.'" He brings his fists up into a ready position.

Solbiort slides gracefully into 'ready' and waits, considering thoughtfully, "So... you are my oathbound?" She grins, her steady green eyes considering Elgyn thoughtfully, tracing along the musculature of his upper torso. "That sounds nicer than the alternatives I vorried about."

Elgyn understands then the source of the question. "Debts of honor are treated respectfully, Captain. An oathbound is neither servant nor slave. Those who make an oath to serve because of a debt are not simply treated with respect, but are considered role-models," he explains. He feels her eyes on him, and there seems the tiniest bit of self-consciousness. He lunges forward with a combination punch.

Solbiort floats easily to one side, casually admiring the way the muscles move under Elgyn's dark skin -- then mentally kicks herself, Pay tzao-gao attention! Her green eyes focus a bit as she shifts, her scarlet braid swaying behind her, to face Elgyn again. Curiously she asks, "So, di-di... vould you be villing to talk to somevon about Ulundi?"

Elgyn seems to be trying to focus on the sparring, though he sees the look in her eyes... part of him almost seems to welcome it. "Talk about Ulundi in what respect, Captain?" he queries in a puzzled tone, feinting a jab and then ducking and lashing out with an uppercut.

Solbiort swings back and sideways for a moment to let Elgyn's fist pass, and then she returns to her previous position. Thoughtfully she says, "A... vhat vas his title -- an anthropologist professor from Boros, di-di, named Alexander Kali." She pronounces it a bit exotically, with a Midgaardian accent, then grins, "Lovely name. Anyvays... vould you be villing to talk to him about Ulundi? He's qvite eager to talk to you." She tilts her head slightly, wondering what's bothering Elgyn -- he'd seemed almost upset earlier when she arrived. Perhaps a good brisk workout is just what he needs too.

Elgyn tilts his head, seeming to ponder the idea. "A scientist wishes to know more about my home? I... suppose that would be all right. Perhaps I would not be the best source of information... I am not a history keeper. But I am willing to ably represent my people," he finally agrees, suddenly pressing the attack... jab, cross, jab, feint, hook...

Solbiort blinks and abruptly focuses as she feels a fist skate across bare skin -- she's going to get hit if she continues playing around! She abruptly whirls to one side of a punch, ducks another, flips gracefully over a crate and rolls to her feet on the other side -- and grins, her emerald eyes bright. Nothing like getting tagged to wonderfully focus the mind!

Elgyn grins back genuinely. "Careful, Solbiort, I almost got you that time..." he comments almost in amusement, keeping his guard up but waiting for her to return before renewing the dance. Solbiort laughs, then springs up, bounding from crate to crate for a few steps before she whirls and presses the attack back on her opponent, reaching for him in a martial throw. Elgyn is taken aback by her lightning movement... he's slower than Solbiort, he's always known that, but here she proves it as he lands on his ass with a startled laugh.

Solbiort grins, staying well out of reach despite Elgyn's falling -- she knows that trick, and knows better than allowing him to lay a hand on her. Greater strength works best up close and personal, after all. She rubs the back of one hand across her mouth, watching the roll and flow of Elgyn's musculature -- then steps back deliberately and says cheerfully, "Vell, vould be nice if you vould talk to him, please, di-di? He seemed pleasant enough, und I vas curious."

Solbiort then firmly puts everything but martial arts out of her head, deliberately stepping closer so she'll have to work and focus harder. Elgyn starts to get up. "I would be more than happy to sit with him, as duties permit... except we should probably make haste, as we're not likely to be around too long..." he starts to say, as he suddenly rolls and thrusts out a leg in a kick at her forward knee.

Solbiort draws her leg back abruptly, shifting her weight to throw a strong offensive strike. "Mm, am thinking 'bout a veek? Don't vant to stay in any place too long right now."

Elgyn jumps to his feet. "A week? That's longer than I expected... are you sure that's safe, Captain?" he queries casually, watching Solbiort's own body, clearly trying to read her fighter's body language -- and oddly finding himself in much the same position as Solbiort earlier. Annoyingly, the memory of that body curled around his on Midgaard comes back to him so easily... annoyingly, because it almost causes him to miss the cue, but he does manage to weave just out of the way, feeling the breeze from the near miss.

Solbiort grins cheerfully at Elgyn as she whips by. She's focused now, her lean, scarred torso a blur of pale movement punctuated by the dancing scarlet whirl of her braid behind her. Sinking into the martial flow with her, Elgyn's stockier, darker form closes with her, blocks and dodges and strikes through the kata they share. The two of them are well matched, dark and light, strength and swiftness, and they both have drawn a comfortable stability from the other as partner and opponent when they finally draw back, panting slightly, and give the final bow to each other.

Solbiort gives a small chuffing laugh as she straightens and pushes her sweat-dampened hair back, "Hoya! That was a good one... I needed that. Sheh-sheh, di-di."

Elgyn whews, grabbing his towel, dabbing at his forehead. He does seem more relaxed now... actually, there was a very noticeable change when he sparred with her, as opposed to before. He seemed to take comfort in the familiarity of their martial act. "I agree. Need a good shower after that," he comments.

Solbiort nods firmly, "I think so." She companionably uses an edge of Elgyn's towel, then grins, "So, vant to see your present?"

Elgyn blinks, having forgotten that. "I suppose so..." he murmurs, his eyes clearly curious.

Solbiort strides over to her stuff, then buckles on her weapons belt. After that she tosses the boots and vest over her shoulder and heads for their cabin, "After the shower, ya? I think then vould be best!" Her emerald eyes are teasing as she grins over her shoulder at Elgyn.

Elgyn tsks, taking his krisara and having left the rest of his clothes in the cabin. "She raises your hopes and then makes you wait..." he comments not at all seriously as he follows.

Solbiort only laughs in reply! Once in the cabin she takes a quick shower, emerging shortly with her water-darkened hair wrapped in a towel. "Hokay, your turn. Vhen you're done, can you brush my hair?"

Elgyn smiles. "Gladly, as always, Captain," he drawls, trying not to linger too long on the way the water glistens on her exposed flesh, the curve of her arms, the strength in her legs... he makes a discontented noise at his distraction -- and yet part of him believes that it is better than it was. He disappears into the shower stall, tossing his shorts out, which managed to drape over a nearby chair.

Solbiort is sitting cross-legged on her bed in her usual clothing by the time Elgyn emerges. She's still got one towel draped about her shoulders, and is using the other to dry her long hair. Unsurprisingly, there's a lot of it pooling around her and most of it is still damp. Elgyn takes his place behind her, taking up the carved brush that is a memory of her home, and starting to diligently strip the water from her hair with it, admiring the way it looking like a waterfall of fire down her back. "So... a present," he prompts, a smile in his tone.

Solbiort chuckles lazily, relaxing as Elgyn takes over maintaining her (often exasperating) hair, "Mmhmmm..." She's silent a moment, then says with a smile in her voice, "Oh, you vant it now?" She sighs gustily, "Vell, I suppose I could get up and get it... if you really vant..." He can see the curve of her cheek as she grins, not turning to look at him while he brushes.

Elgyn makes a clucking sound with his tongue. "Other men have said to me that women are a mystery... I do not think I ever really understood that till now." he drawls wryly. "But I can wait... I suppose I should tame this wild beast that is your hair before we do anything else..."

Solbiort laughs, although there's a hint of relief in her voice, "I can't tell you how many times I've been tempted to just hack it off. If it vouldn't shock everyvon so much back home, I'd have done so long ago."

"Shock everyone? Why? Is it taboo for women to wear their hair short on your world?" Elgyn queries curiously, trying to remember hairstyles back from what he remembers six years ago. "It's a common style on Ulundi, particularly for the warrior women..."

Solbiort smiles, "A valdojer or a horse cares for the valkyrie's hair, Elgyn, and I'm unmarried and have no horse. My hair vould only be cut to signify disgrace." She considers, then adds quietly, "I'd guess that's part of vhat happened to Ranaka, in fact." She grins, adding more normally, "Some of us used to joke that long hair vas how the hearth vomen encouraged valkyrior to marry, in fact -- because it vas such a bother to care for oneself!"

"I had no idea," Elgyn murmurs, his tone more sober. It makes him wonder then about how he's tended Solbiort's hair all this time... and if that affected how she saw him. "Hair is not considered such at home... though it's true that caring for another's hair, or allowing it to be tended or touched is often a sign of... interest," he says after a moment.

Solbiort seems completely relaxed as Elgyn brushes her hair. Curiously she asks, "Vhat kind of interest?"

Elgyn suddenly finds, in his desire to exchange information, he's chosen an embarrassing path. But then again... the secret is already out. How much worse can it be? "Romantic interest," he finally reports as the brush lays into her crimson mane, slowly bringing it under control...

Solbiort blinks, then says slowly, "So... you've been adapting to me all this time?" She chuckles wryly, "Freya, I must've been such a shock. Shuh muh, di-di." She adds puzzledly, "Is that vhy you cut your hair? Because you didn't vant any romantic interest?"

Elgyn coughs. "No, Captain that was not... I did not lie to you about my reasons for wanting you to cut my hair," he says evasively. "Besides that... I'm sure you've found that my dreadlocks were not the most romantic of things to touch," he adds, seeming to try and make a joke out of it. "But yes, it was... your manner was very different from what I was used to. But I eventually... family members can brush and braid and cut hair without implication of that sort of interest. I tried to look at it that way."

Solbiort nods thoughtfully, "Ah, interesting. Good to know, too, for vhen ve are on Ulundi." She grins, "Vould be bad, then, for me to pet somevon's hair there, ya?"

"It is... uncertain. Things might have changed," Elgyn muses. "But it would likely be safer not to, unless you have... an interest in one of them," he murmurs.

Solbiort chuckles, then curiously asks, "That vould include you as vell? Vould you be frowned on if I touched your hair?"

Elgyn is quiet for a moment. "I am... I do not know," he finds himself admitting after a while. "There would surely be no issue normally, but being your oathbound... I do not know."

Solbiort nods quietly, "All right. I vould prefer not to cause you problems there vhen you are going through your ritual." She tilts her head, half-glancing over her shoulder and grinning curiously, "So vhy do you cut your hair? Is part of ritual? Is anything else I can do to help you vith that? Or can voman not help vith rite of passage to adult for males?"

Elgyn shakes his head. "The Coming of Age involves men and women equally. While there are obvious differences between the male ritual and the female one, it is central to both that both genders bear witness to parts of each, and both a male and female sonia must assess and declare a child fit to join the adults," he explains. "The shearing of the hair is not officially part of the ritual, but is often something the men have done just prior to. Women have their hair done up in elaborate braids."

Solbiort blinks, "Vait... you are telling me both are present for rituals of adulthood?" She puzzledly adds, "Children are oathsworn?"

Elgyn tilts his head. "Of course. It is of paramount importance that the Coming of Age be an open thing, a celebration, a welcoming. We do not live separately. All important rituals are done together," he replies, bemused at her confusion. "And no, children are not oathsworn... but part of the ritual is the Clan Oath, pledging loyalty to the Greater Family."

Solbiort considers thoughtfully, fascinated. Every study she's ever heard of (not many, admittedly) concerning primitive societies contains a very gender-specific ritual for the shift from childhood to adulthood. How odd that the Ulundi do not. Or... perhaps this bit she's hearing about is only part of the full ritual? That'd make sense. Changing from child to adult able to create children is always a mystical time, and mysticism is strongly secretive. She considers the other part of Elgyn's statement, then blinks again, "Oh! So sonia means leader for a clan as well as for an individual?"

Elgyn nods fervently at her understanding. "Yes. Sonia is often a general term of respect, but it is also a title. There are sonia in battle, and there are sonia in labor. The leaders of the clan are the Prime Sonia... the warchief is the Soniakan, and their mate is the Soniachan. They rule jointly, along with the council of elders. Both translate to... 'leader over all.' Historically 'kan' is masculine and 'chan' is feminine... it has been otherwise, though."

Solbiort says curiously, "Huh! Interesting. How was it othervise?"

Elgyn smiles. "One of the Soniakan's daughters of my clan -- Elauura -- grew to be a dazzling master of the blade... when the time came for him to pass on his mantle, he made history by nominating her as warchief. It was unprecedented. But she won the right to be called so during her trials. It took Elauura some time, though, to find a man suitable enough to be both keeper of her heart and Chan to rule at her side. The tale of Elauura's rise to power, and her guardianship of the tribe, is a favored tale at Musere celebrations."

Solbiort smiles quietly, "Ah, one of those stories. Ya, ve have them too. There have been varrior boys vhen there vere no strong daughters to carry on the family line... although fortunately that is rare." She tilts her head again, "Almost done there?" She grins, rolling to her feet to turn and resettle cross-legged on the bed, facing Elgyn this time. She absently brushes back her shining curtain of scarlet, then reaches to run pale fingers through the very soft, short fuzz which is all that remains of Elgyn's hair. Cheerfully she says, "So, did you remember eventually your hair vill grow out too? And vhen it does..." she holds out the other hand, a brush resting on her palm, and grins mischievously, "-you vill be ready for it now, ya?"

Elgyn cannot hold back the blush when she touches his hair, though he does not shy back... but his eyes open wide when he sees what is in her hand. Forget about 'holding back'... if his skin wasn't so dark, his face would match Solbiort's hair! "Solboirt, I..." he murmurs, reaching out to touch the brush.

Solbiort grins, pleased, "You like, di-di? Thought something strong and... straightforvard vould favor you most?"

Elgyn almost cradles the brush in his hands, seeming to admire the dark, polished wooden handle. "It... this was very thoughtful of you, Solbiort," he says in a voice that seems to be struggling to be even. He finally looks up, those eyes deep and soulful. "Thank you."

Solbiort smiles, lightly brushing her fingers along the soft fuzz again, "You're velcome, di-di. I didn't know hair was qvite so personal on Ulundi, but hopefully you can accept this anyvay, ya?"

Elgyn's eyes lower again almost demurely. "I could not in good conscience refuse your gift, Captain, whether it was proper or not," he rumbles after a moment.

Solbiort's expression becomes thoughtful, "Vhy is that, di-di?" Worriedly she wonders if this is too much 'pushing' again.

Elgyn looks up again, seeming to have a little more command of his emotions now. "It would be disrespectful, Captain. This was no idle knickknack. This was a gift from the heart," he explains calmly, earnestly. "Its worth is far more than whatever you spent on it."

Solbiort studies Elgyn, her emerald eyes thoughtful. Then she smiles slowly, "Then I am glad you like it, di-di. It seems too little to me, considering the years you've spent caring for me."

Elgyn coughs. "Those years... they were gifts in and of themselves, Captain," he replies, embarrassed again. Then his eyes alight on the hair-stick stilettos he made for her. "But this reminds me... I was going to find a jeweler to add highlights to your new adornments... make them fit to wear for any formal occasions that might rise up," he says then, snatching them up.

Solbiort smiles, relaxing back on the bed, resting on one elbow, "Sounds lovely, di-di. Sheh-sheh." Curiously she asks, "Do you say the years themselves vere gifts? How so?"

Elgyn is hesitant... this talk treads far too close to the emotions he cannot bring himself to feel fully. He smiles then. "You made me feel alive, Solbiort," he says simply. "Following you was never dull," he wryly adds.

Solbiort tosses her head back and laughs easily at that. Then she grins, sitting back up, "Vell, never promised that, true." She chuckles, her hair already tangling, and with a mix of annoyance and amusement adds, "Before you go, di-di, do me favor and braid this mess?"

Elgyn's eyes dance. "A man's work is never done." he drawls, and sits to do his 'duty.'

Elgyn, after getting his disbursement from the ship's profits, departs the ship and heads into the town. Astarte City is bustling and not all that unpleasant, once away from the docks. Most of the stores are little more than stalls, little lean-too niches where the vendor sits in shade, plying their trade with their wares between the customer and their work. As Elgyn passes one of the bars closest to the docks, he hears a band of what might be war-veterans, crew of a transport, singing one of the chanteys that Elgyn had heard in some of the more raucous bars:

Gorram them all
I was told we'd cruise the 'Verse for Independent plat
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
The last of Barrett's Privateers!

Elgyn starts to move on, but hesitates and stops to listen a moment. This whole thing is a first for him, really... going off on his own, on an errand not requested by his Captain. He decides to... savor it a moment, and do other things he wouldn't normally do. So he curiously walks into the bar, following the music.

The bar is a bit dark, but warm and a bit crowded. It's definitely a tough clientele, looking to be mostly fighters, and almost all of them vets. The saloon shingle on the front reads 'The Bao And Rifle,' depicting a sword crossed with an autolock rifle with a wooden stock, of a pattern often found in Browncoat units. It's definitely not the sort of place to go for a quiet meal, though they serve food here. Almost all present have seen many miles in the world and many more in the black.

The singers are in a corner, all wearing the forest-green/gray fatigue jackets of Alliance marines, of a pattern dating back to the war, and all with a variety of unit patches and sigils and insignia -- definitely not to uniform regulations. They are also more than a little drunk, though not completely inebriated. Elgyn is given a bit of a berth by several of the clientele. It takes him a moment to realize they perceive him as being someone to give such a berth to.

Elgyn considers the drunken marines, then takes stock of all else around, curious how folks are reacting to this inebriated quartet. He wrinkles his nose slightly. "I hope I didn't sing like that when I drank too much of the Captain's brandy..." he murmurs to himself. The marines finish their chantey, ending with cheers amongst their group and swigs of their chosen brew. After a bit of a conferring, they start in on another one, this one a bit more... aggressive. This is one Elgyn never heard, since it's not one often sung in Alliance officers' clubs:

In the War of Wintarsen's visions, the 'liance would get no provisions,
Total war was his decision, sinking ships not built to fight.
Finest liners of their day were now painted battle gray
But the two small guns they mount, they cause no fright.

The mood is a little tense; clearly the marines aren't the only veterans present, as evidenced by the table populated mostly by dun-colored jerkins in the corner. The ex-Browncoats keep to themselves though, and make no comment or aggression to the singing ex-purplebellies. The rest of the tavern seems unconcerned how close to a brawl they might be getting should the ex-Indeps get frisky, though they seem unaffected.

Elgyn finds himself oddly irritated by the Alliance's song himself... certainly, he bears no ill will against Alliance soldiers as a rule. He's met plenty who treated him with unexpected respect, even in the aftermath of the war. And it's part of his code that once hostilities between two clans cease, the warriors bear no grudge against each other for what happened during war. After all, as long as both sides bore themselves honorably, and whatever reason for the fighting began was forgiven, there is no cause for further violence. But this... this song is outright disrespectful of what the Browncoats... of what he gave up to fight. It's been a long time since he had to defend his honor, though, so he easily bites it back... after all, it's not directed at him.

Elgyn is tempted to leave... but on the other hand he knows that this crew teeters on a knife's blade, and that a few more sparks could ignite the flame of anger. Oddly, he doesn't know if he stays to prevent conflict... or if he stays because he wants to join in. Though the earlier workout cooled his earlier anger, he finds it bubbling up again, remembering the events of the last few weeks. Skamandrios. The attack on Fleur-de-Croix.

As the marines finish their chantey, chatting merrily amongst each other, quietly at first and then rising in volume, the indep vets start into their own chantey. This one is unabashedly Independent, as opposed to one about a failed Alliance privateer or the Alliance merchant mariners in the U-War...

Make it one for Wintarsen and all his proud Browncoats
And one for the girl that once was mine
Make it one for the darling child I'll never see again
And don't forget the blacksmith of Brandywine!

Judging by the respectful (since after all the Browncoats were polite enough to let them sing when they were singing) but edgy glances the marines are giving the ex-Browncoats, it is, as they say, most definitely on. It's likely just a matter of time.

Elgyn looks between the two groups, stepping closer to the singing men while trying to stay unobvious... still feeling conflicted between these two impulses. But as he waits and watches, he realizes that he bears no real ill will towards the Alliance men. Why unload his malice on them rather than at those who deserve it? Besides... although these men might not share his beliefs, they are not bad beliefs to have... there is a time for violence, and this is not necessarily it. He reflects on how he's changed then, to be thinking like this -- remembering the pilot he took down with one punch back when he first gave his oath to Solbiort. How young I was.

If this is a bar brawl, then it's the oddest Elgyn's ever seen. Once the Browncoats finish their rather bittersweet tune, the marines start in on another chantey. This one Elgyn has heard many times in Ocs -- it's a favorite of the space forces.

It was down in Evesham Docks I carelessly did stray,
There I beheld a lady fair, All with a spacer fey,
He said, My lovely fair maid, This world I must leave for,
To cross the vasty black, In a 'Liance ship-o'-war.

Elgyn blinks as he seems to see what's about... that this is a contest of songs, and not yet one of fists. He grudgingly nods at the idea... this is something he can get behind. It's a catchy tune to be sure... and he finds himself humming along, as the tune is so familiar. Though he's never sung it himself, he's heard it enough to remember it well. Elgyn is not, however, bold enough to start singing outright... he's never sung, not even for Solbiort... well, except for that one time when she was sleeping after the shootout at Bellerophon. Then it's the Browncoats' turn. And they start in on "Georgia Quad."

There were two lofty ships, From old Eclipse came
Blow high, blow low, And so sail we
One was the Pride of Shornscale, The other Pride of Newhall
All a-cruisin' down the main, of Old Georgia Quad...

The Browncoat song goes on into the raid of the two ships by an Alliance DFIV (Deep-space Fast Interception Vessel), and they actually manage to get to the next-to-last verse:

For Broadside, for broadside, a long time we lay
'Til at last the Pride of Shornscale, shot the Purple's drive away...

-before the first bottle sails in from somewhere and strikes a completely uninvolved patron to the tavern -- which of course is like a signal for both sides to leap at each other, almost eagerly and merrily. Elgyn blinks, taken by surprise at the sudden invasion of violence into this almost merry song duel. "Gorram it!" he growls... looking around briefly to see who threw the bottle. He spots someone who was already running out the door. He hesitates, looking towards the brawling patrons... while one man might stop them, he's not likely that one man. No, more useful to follow the fleeing figure and find out what the hell all that was about. He gives chase.

The tracker from Ulundi gives chase to the fleeing figure, out into the streets of the city. Somewhere after the second block the young man realizes he's being followed, and begins a mad, twisting chase through the labyrinthine alleys. It's at an intersection of no less than five of these alleys that Elgyn looses his quarry. Elgyn swears in Lingua, speaking at length on the heritage of the man that escaped him. He then purses his lips and crouches, looking intently at the ground to see if the man left a discernable footprint he can follow... "You probably shouldn't go after him," a quiet voice says cautiously from the shade of a nearby kiosk.

Elgyn blinks but does not immediately react, not wanting whoever it is to know he was caught by surprise. "And why not?" he queries calmly, continuing to peer at the ground.

The voice -- quiet, calm, with a bit of a somehow familiar accent -- says a little wryly, "He is a rake for the local Tong. He is under their protection, and is in their compound over there. A coward, yes. But like all cowards who continue to try to thrill-seek, he will eventually poke the bear. That day may not be today, friend, lest you truly wish to enter the den of the dragon."

Elgyn growls and rises, wiping his hands. "I'm not the bear he should fear... only trying to determine why someone would ignite a bar brawl with no apparent motive... although if what you say is true then the motive would seem to be apparent." He turns to face the speaker. "He did it for fun?" he demands, irritated by this revelation.

"If it was at the 'Bao and Rifle,' then yes, he did it for fun. He has been warned, and I suspect several of the resident veterans will shortly be hurting him very badly ere long. Young Feng takes a twisted pleasure in seeing war-dogs fight." The man is still within the shade of the kiosk, a shaft of light illuminating his hands: dark brown and weathered, but with seemingly infinite dexterity as he works coils of beadwork and low-caret gold.

Elgyn blinks and watches the man work, fascinated. "If he chooses to incite them so, then he will get exactly what he deserves," he asserts as he steps closer. "I cannot abide cowards, or anyone who would seek to provoke others into 'performing' for his benefit." He continues to watch. "You are most skilled, sir..." he trails off politely, as if to inquire upon his name.

The hands pause, and dimly Elgyn can see the man in the shadows looking up at him. He leans forward, a curious expression on his dreadlock-framed, tattooed face. "Thank you. I have done this work since before I left my home in the War. I am Amanzi," he says simply, looking carefully at Elgyn. "And unless I miss my guess complete, you too are of Ulundi."

Elgyn doubts he has ever been more stunned than he is right now. "I... I am, sir. Amanzi," he murmurs, peering at the man... there can be no question -- the work of the tattoo on his face is clearly an Ulundi design. "I am Elgyn, of Clan Musere," he introduces himself more formally.

Amanzi breaks into a wide, dazzling smile. "Hah! I thought as much. I am of Clan Kusihlwa. Though distant our clans may be on Ulundi, here on Ashtoreth we are close, brother. It is good to see another of Ulundi here."

Elgyn smiles back, though his expression is not as certain as the other man's... although not because of the man's clan, for Elgyn knows the name of the clan but vaguely. Indeed, he remembers the lands of Kusihlwa as being far from Musere. No, it is seeing the inspiring design on Amanzi's face, and Elgyn realizing he lacks such a proud adornment. In spite of his embarrassment he offers his hand and forearm and greets the man in the traditional manner: arms together, squeezing each other's forearm. He showed this to Solbiort once, and she laughed, suggesting it came about as competition for men to see which was stronger. "It has been... a long time since I have met one of my people. Not since the War..."

The man nods soberly, clasping Elgyn's forearm as well. "As with me. A platoon of Ulundi scouts we were for the 901st Overlanders. I have not seen my lands since... oh, three years after the war began." He tilts his head curiously to the side. "You have no markings, and yet you were in the War? By all rights any who survived it should have been marked." He looks around, then up at the sky. "Come, it's about time for the midday meal." He grins, "And meeting another from Ulundi is a rare gift. So I'm buying."

Elgyn hesitates, Amanzi's words making him curious... but then he feels his stomach rumble, and realizes it has been a long time since breakfast. "It would be my pleasure to join you," he says firmly, putting his curiosity aside for a moment.

Amanzi grins. "Good to hear. Give me but a moment." He packs up the blanket and crafts in the kiosk -- as well as a few sundries tucked into the back of the niche -- then slings the roll on a strap across a shoulder. He is about Elgyn's height, if a bit broader in shoulder and significantly older. "There's a decent place to eat down this alleyway," he says, pointing. "So, if it is not too impertinent of me to ask, what came of you after the War?"

There is hesitation again... but finding Amanzi is almost like finding a family member. He is friendly, and seems well disposed towards him... at worst, perhaps this might give him insight into what kind of reception he might get at home. So on the way he tells his story: how he was on recon, and his team was buzzed by aircraft. How he woke up buried under rocks, there for a long time before he was rescued by an Alliance pilot who told him of the end of the war. How he was aimless in the days after, and finally found purpose in Ishala -- The Oath of Service. How he followed her for eight long years, and how two became five in the wake of a pirate attack. He does not reveal the specifics of the stuff surrounding Wintarsen, to be sure, but...

Amanzi listens thoughtfully. "And you have not been home in all this time?" he asks when Elgyn finishes. By now they have arrived at the ramshackle 'decent place to eat,' which is little more than a stand with a counter around the massive heated stone that serves as cooking-surface.

Elgyn sighs as the older man seems to cut right to the heart of his tension. "No. I was ashamed... I considered the loss of the war as my own. I was sure if I returned I would be reviled. I... was full of eager youth, and I demanded to be included among the warriors sent. And the brave warrior who was to complete the bare minimum of my Ascension was killed before we even reached our training facility... lost in an attack to the unforgiving black."

Amanzi makes a quiet sound. "I do not rightly know what reception you will receive when you return to Ulundi," he says carefully. "Perhaps I've been away from home for too long; I have forgotten what our accent sounds like and I did not recognize you as being from Ulundi from your voice alone. I have been itinerant in the black for the better part of eight years. And perhaps I too share that worry of what awaits me when I return." He smiles a bit to Elgyn, "But if it is one thing I know, it is not upon my shoulders alone that rests the responsibility for the loss of the War. The weight of that burden is shared amongst tens of thousands of survivors, and in such sharing the weight of it becomes negligible. We fought, and fought honorably for the most part. And we must accept defeat honorably. For the most part."

Elgyn's shoulders slump... they are brothers in more ways than one, then, both unknowing of what might be should he go home. "I understand that better now. Better than the despairing boy I was," he agrees. He inhales the smell of the kitchen, savoring it. While this place is simple, simple is also what he grew up with... it is familiar, and the food smells good. "And what is your story, my friend? What became of you in the wake of the War?"

Amanzi lets out his own breath. "It is not, I fear as exciting as yours, to be certain! I was with the Overlanders for many years and many campaigns, but it ended on Hera. I was not in Serenity Valley, but I was to have been sent there, when High Command ordered us to lay down arms. We were treated well, I admit; better than we would have been treated as POWs. Though many in the Alliance were more assured in their victory than humility allowed, I could not fault them. It had been a hard war. At the time, though, I had not enough money to buy passage back to Ulundi. As I was a jeweler amongst our people, I took that as my craft in the Border Moons and tried to earn enough. Over time... I found I simply had no desire to return. I still sought to see more of the 'Verse. And so I became itinerant, earning enough on each world, just enough, to move on to the next."

Elgyn shakes his head. "I wonder how many are like us... how many could or would have returned. I would have, had I not been so distraught. Though there are many wonders out here, there are many times when I have yearned for the simplicity of home." He smiles to himself. "My sonia could easily push those cares from my head, though. She is destined for greatness."

Amanzi arches his brow at Elgyn. "'Sonia?' The Alliance officer? I had not thought she had made such a great impression upon you."

Elgyn barks a laugh. "Solbiort? She is like the mythical tales we were told of the phoenix... she dances like a flame; she soars high and dares all. If I could have, I would..." he trails off, suddenly self-conscious. "She reminded me some of my mother, I think. She too was a strong woman," he finally finishes, though it's clear that was not what he was going to say.

Amanzi gives a wry sort of grin, and claps a hand on Elgyn's shoulder. "Mm-hmm," he says, not quite believing the ending of Elgyn's soliloquy, "Be that as it may, it is surprising." His expression grows somber. "Still, Ulundi fought on the side of the Independent Factions. I would be cautious should you find yourself on Ulundi again."

Elgyn blinks. "Amanzi, you say you have not been back... but your words suggest you might know... has something happened?" he queries softly, his brow knitting. "I have tried to find information, but the newsnets have nothing, and it barely shows up on historical accounts."

Amanzi shakes his head. "I have only spoken to a few who have been to Ulundi since War's end. No, I speak of the fact that Ulundi was an Indep world during the war, and on the Fringe it may not be easy to find much sympathy for the Alliance and its officers on a world conquered by the Alliance.

Elgyn scowls. "Surely we are bigger than that, Amanzi! We understood that on our world, didn't we? No grudges? You and I were treated fairly; surely it can't be worse than that at home." He brings his fist to his chest. "And she saved my honor, Amanzi. She did it even though she was my enemy. That counts for something, does it not?"

"It does, Elgyn, it does. And I am sure that any honorable member of our people will understand. The war, after all, is ten years in the past. But surely you know that for some the war never really ended."

Elgyn remembers the veterans in the bar, and how it took just a single bottle, not thrown at any of them, to ignite the spark. "Yes, I do... too well." He is quiet for a moment as they are served... then he fishes out the gleaming steel stilettos from his vest. "These are meant to be for my Captain, Amanzi. It would honor me greatly if you would decorate them in one of the traditional styles... make them fit for both a lady and a warrior."

Amanzi looks surprised, then beams. "The honor would be mine, Elgyn. I've not worked weapons in many, many years."

Elgyn smiles back. "You are overdue, then, my friend." He picks up a slice of bread. "And so let us break bread together, and share a meal as one people," he quotha, the words from the final passage to the Peacemaking ceremony, whereupon hostilities between clans would cease.

Raj departs the ship on his task of finding a cargo for the ship's next step in their journey. He takes his disbursement from the ship's profits, and heads out into Astarte City. The most logical place to start is one of the several cargo brokers in the Docks' business district. More than a few of them deal with tramp freighters and transports; and several are more than happy to deal in less than legitimate cargoes.

Raj has a remarkable moment of insight as he begins to research the legitimate brokers. There are three who respond positively. One, Jamison Al'Assad, has a cargo of livestock going to Barcelon, the same moon of Roshan that the crew had visited before. Arkady Travels has a passenger manifest of five people whose original transport to Ares broke down spectacularly. Finally, Indra Gaupa has a cargo of textiles and fabrics bound for Persephone; this is a long haul to the Osterfrau Quadrant, so she's paying somewhat more than the going rates.

Raj has even more significant luck with the more shady dealers. He finds two who are willing to talk with him. Of course, the cargo is going to be more risky. One is a shipment of "indentured servitors" in cryo to Lilac, off in the Ishtara Quadrant. It pays top dollar and then some, but it's definitely a gamble; Alliance and local law compliance forces won't hesitate to inflict grievous harm on whatever ship they caught carrying such. The Alliance prefers the transport and disposition of "indentured servitors" to be somewhat more regulated.

The other is probably a little more palatable. Maybe. It's a load of foodstuffs with the Alliance seal on it, stolen during a train job a week before. The heat has finally gone down enough that the local Syndi boss thinks it's safe to get off-planet via a third party. The destination is a former penal colony long since made into its own town on Dharmaloka, a Border Moon of Urganth on the edge of the Central region. Dharmaloka was never too rich but the Syndi boss has an inside lead on a buyer on that world.

A little bit of research and polite questioning gives Raj some more information about the foodstuffs transport. The foodstuffs have Alliance seals on them; though made by Blue Sun they're very highly concentrated foodstuff, meant as supplements to some sort of caloric intake. One cubic foot of the foodstuff can provide all the vitamins, proteins, and amino acids for a family for a month. This is essentially "weapons-grade foodstuff," the sort of thing that isn't even given to regular troops. It's expensive, it's strictly regulated, and it's most definitely Alliance property. Raj used it very sparingly during the War on particularly long insertion missions; even then Command Element was stingier with it than they were with ammunition. With the Alliance seal on it, it'd be bound to attract attention -- but it's incredibly lucrative cargo.

Late afternoon finds Raj sitting in a street cafe sipping thick, sweet tea and flipping through messages on the terminal propped up on the table. You know, he thinks, it's been years since I've had to do this kind of haggling, horse trading, and pressing the flesh. I didn't think I'd ever miss it. He pops the last dumpling off a cracked plate into his mouth, glancing up and down the street. He grins, thinking, I'm not sure I miss it... but, boy, am I rusty.

A passing server tops off his steaming mug and he adds a splinter of platinum to the growing pile on the edge of the table. With a slight smile he says, "Some of more those meat dumplings sure would be nice," and the girl hustles off.

Distractedly dipping rice out of a simple bowl, he thinks, Well, I've been all afternoon visiting cargo vendors, reading the local postings, and generally getting a feel for who's who and what's what. I think there's enough legit haul to get us to the next stop, wherever that is. The livestock Al'Assad has might be a bit messy, but the rate's good. Arkady's passengers would be good money, but people can be almost as much trouble as livestock. Ms. Gupta's load of cloth seems to be the best offer, even though it's going pretty far. I wonder if she'll mind a stop between here and there. We could do two of these, but livestock and passengers... He snorts, ...no, I don't think so.

Stretching in the rickety chair, Raj swaps to the "anonymous" offers he's tracked down, or that have tracked him down, and frowns. I don't think these folks in cryo are really our type of cargo, and the dinner bricks... they're a good deal, but I just don't see the need for us to expose ourselves. The serving girl returns with a small plate of dumplings, steaming from the kitchen. Raj smiles and says, "Perfect! I'll finish these and be on my way."

Raj notices him just as he's finishing off his dumplings: a man in a moth-eaten duster of indeterminate color who enters the doorway to the cafe, looking much the worse for wear. At first he doesn't seem to take much notice of the patrons -- at least until his eyes fall on Raj, at which point he goes through a most remarkable and expansive spectrum of emotions: surprise, shock, anger, then determination as he begins to stride towards Raj's table across the cafe.

Raj shifts in the chair and continues using the terminal. Belying his casual demeanor, all of the open messages and windows abruptly close. Raj adds some coin to the pile on the table, and sighs. One of the other patrons notices Raj taking a quick inventory of the room and briefly checking his "pockets." He drops some coin on his table as well, saying, "Check!" and beats feet down the street.

The man, whom Raj knows as Darius, stops at Raj's table; his hands are visible, though it's hard to tell if he has any weapons under the duster. "It's been a long time since Bishamon," he says darkly, "hasn't it?"

Raj nods, "Almost a decade, Darius. Can I buy you a drink, or are you here on business?"

Darius grunts. "Business, but I wouldn't mind mixing in a little pleasure as well. I'd thought you HUMOD types had shorter life spans -- half-expected you to be six feet under by now."

Raj says, "Every soldier's immortal until they die. I plan to live to a ripe old age with no regrets, Darius. You do seem a bit tense, though. What's stuck in your craw today? Surely you didn't come to see me..."

Darius snorts. "I'm on the clock, otherwise I'd be more than happy to put that comment about 'immortal' to the test." He switches to Gujarati. "You don't know how much of a joy it was to see you."

Raj laughs a short, sharp bark and says, "Well, then, I live to serve." His eyes narrow and he continues, "The war's over, Darius. Lots of folks have been... content to let things that happened just be painful memories. Why can't you do the same? Are you determined to be one of those folks that never let go?"

Darius says, "The war is over, yes. But not for us, Raj. Not for you and me. I'm going to find out what makes you Silver Wires tick, and then I'm going to cut those wires. I just figured I should give you the chance you never gave my men on Bishamon."

Raj says, "I'm sick of hearing that. 'The war's over, but not for me.' You know what, Darius? 'The war' started long before the shooting. You and me were just caught up in whatever the generals were told to do, and that came from some civilian sitting in a nice, clean boardroom or some politician making some speech to keep the folks at home feeling safe. You want a piece of me, you can take your shot any time you'd like. But you know what? It's not going to make a damn bit of difference. They'll just make more if they think it'll help them get what they want."

Raj gulps the last of his tea, and stands. "You want to do something to avenge your men killed on Bishamon? You want to make their deaths mean something? You go do the hard part. Find out who ordered me... ordered us to take them down. Maybe you'll be able to do something for the dead men sent to kill them, too." He picks up his gear and turns to go, saying, "Good men died on both sides, Darius. What're the odds anyone lived to tell their story?"

Raj walks out of the little cluster of tables, pausing to see if Darius follows. As he turns down the street, the girl clearing the table hears him mutter, "-putz," and stifles a giggle. Darius doesn't make to follow, but instead remains behind, letting Raj go... at least for now. Raj continues down the street, making his way back toward the ship's berth. As soon as he's out of sight of the street cafe where he left Darius, he conceals himself in a doorway and waits to see if he's been followed.

The moment passes, and he begins making his way back toward the cafe. Moving with the crowd and slowly working his way back toward where Darius waits, Raj blends into the throng on the street surprisingly well, almost accidentally purchasing a toy monkey on a string, and some sort of crisp-fried vermin on a stick. The street vendor assures him it's a local delicacy, and he hands it to a child as he works his way to a spot where he can see Darius.

Raj's backtracking and maneuvering seem to pay off. At the cafe Darius is meeting with a relatively well-dressed man, somewhat nondescript though wearing what passes for the clothing of the gentry in Astarte City: suit, ribbon-tie, broad black brimmer. The man wearing the brimmer appears to be somewhat alert, though Darius seems almost languid. They converse intently but quietly together for several long minutes.

Raj watches the two men, but goes no closer. He wonders, What are you up to, Darius? Damnation! I'm going to have to start worrying about you, aren't I? Passersby make no notice of someone making a call on their terminal, and he takes a few surreptitious images of Darius and his guest.

After a few minutes, Raj looks around, thinking, I can't stay here all day, I'll stand out like a sore thumb, and it looks like they're settling in for more than a quick chat. He frowns and turns away from the cafe, making his way back to the Scarlet Chimera, mumbling, "Why can't you just make this simple, take your shot, you old fart, and get this over with? Damn this cloak-and-shiv shit!"

A few hours after the ship lands Nigel gets his current share of the monies from the ship's cargo activities. It's a decent sum, all told -- he's not going to starve or be wanting for sundries while off-ship. Two days later he heads off through the docks to the city proper, to meet with his old professor. He takes the time to clean up and put on clean street clothes, and has all his funds together, before he heads off.

The city outside the docks is actually fairly nice -- not like the Central Planets, but homey and spread out and fairly laid-back. The buildings are a little weatherworn, and look either very recently built or somewhat the worse for wear. That being said, the local hospital where Prof. Rivenova is visiting is large and looks in good condition, and though not nearly as advanced as the ones on Ariel, for example, also isn't nearly as antiseptic-seeming.

Nigel strolls through the town, hands in his pockets. When he gets to the hospital, he actually takes a few minutes to see what he can see without needing clearance. It's always good to have an idea what sorts of facilities are available where. The little mini-inspection doesn't take too long, however, and he's soon headed to meet the professor.

He's directed to the ward wing, where Rivenova is in conversation with the resident GP, discussing some of the 'quirks' of Ashtoreth's terraforming. As he ambles into view Rivenova turns and spots him immediately. Breaking into a wide smile, she waves cheerfully. "Nigel! Spasibo, Nigel -- I hadn't expected to see you so soon!"

The grumpy little doctor actually grins back so widely that the scar on his cheek wrinkles. "Well, there wasn't much I could do between landing and getting here that didn't make me run the risk of getting distracted and forgetting all about coming to see you."

Rivenova makes brief introductions. "Nigelchka, this is Doctor Martins -- he's the superintending physician of the Astarte City hospital. Doctor, this is Doctor Nigel Baird, the prosthetics specialist I mentioned to you earlier." Martins is a sallow and sober figure, taller than both Nigel and Rivenova, who greets Nigel politely.

Nigel inclines his head to Martins, "Doctor." He arches a brow at Rivenova, "Oh, hell, should I be worried what you've been filling this man's head with?" The question has a hint of smirk in it, but the tone is mostly good-natured. This woman is one of the few people whose opinion ever really mattered to Nigel.

Natasha Rivenova is halfway between five and six feet, with a wide, pleasant face and a riot of ash-brown hair gathered at the nape of her neck. Though Central born, she's on the stocky and hale side, lending her an image of immense health and (with her bright disposition) vivaciousness. Her grin is impish. "Nyet, Nigelchka, not to worry. You've enough elaborations on that tale to be worrying you! Doctor, I would like to continue the tour later in the day, if we may, da? Dr. Baird and I have much catching up to do."

Martins nods, "Of course. I've some rounds to make in the Twitches Ward. A pleasure meeting you, Dr. Baird." Nigel waits for the other two physicians to take their leave of one another, face settling into that familiar and irrepressible smirk that is his default expression. Even respect can only really go so far in curbing him.

Finally free of Dr. Martins, Rivenova makes a wry expression. "He's stuffy, but competent, at least." She brightens. "So, Nigelchka! Come, let's find a nice place for tea or lunch. How have you been doing?"

Nigel doesn't even flinch at the affectionate nickname, but he does chuckle at her assessment of Martins, "I don't know how you deal with stuffed shirts all day. I couldn't keep myself from tweaking his nose... figuratively speaking of course." He rubs his chin thoughtfully, "Well, something to eat would go down a treat. We're off in the Black so much that I get a lot of different colors of protein, but not much real food." The grin broadens, "And I'm treating. The new berth pays mighty well." He's even careful of his speech, though he doesn't seem aware of it.

"Oh, da, your berth aboard that ship! Can't tell you how much of a relief it was to hear you'd survived that attack." She grins. "Ah, but seeing you tweaking the nose of every stuffed shirt on the faculty was so fun to watch! They needed it -- to be reminded of their humanity."

Nigel seems to relax a little bit, being reminded of his days at the academy. There had been a professor or two that had desperately wanted to fail him, simply because of his attitude -- but it's hard to fail someone just because they're a smartass, when their work is exemplary. "Well, they do say the only thing bigger'n a doctor's paycheck is his ego. Someone has to deflate them." The irony of this seems to completely escape him. Then he glances after Martins for a moment, "Though what in the world does he mean by the 'twitches ward'? Neurological patients?"

She sobers a little at mention of 'Twitches.' "Somewhat, yes. Lots of terraformed worlds have quirks, da? Ashtoreth is one of them. Local parasite that has a liking for nerve tissue, and thrived in oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Very rare, though -- only one in a million Ashtoreth natives get it. But when they do, natives call it 'the Twitches.' We can treat it, but requires few weeks of observation and hospital stay. Thus, 'Twitches Ward.'" Then she laughs merrily. "Deflate which, the paycheck or the ego?"

Nigel smirks, "Both..." but his demeanor sobers again at the explanation of the Twitches, "So he wasn't just being an arse about someone with Parkinson's." He squints thoughtfully, his hand moving to rub over the top of his head, "At least it's treatable."

Rivenova shakes her head. "Martins a stuffy shirt is, but not unsympathetic. 'Twitches' is common term among folk here. Bit of a shock for born-and-bred Central like me when I first ran into slang used in the Border Moons, but one learns." She smiles. "As I imagine you've learned. Student has exceeded the teacher, it seems! Border Moons are a very strange and big place for Central doctor."

Nigel snorts and shakes his head, actually offering Rivenova his arm, "Not so big. Especially if what you're doin' half the ru... half the time is working on engines. I'm more mechanic than doctor out here."

Rivenova grins, looping her arm through his. "Just as you wanted, as I recall. Well. Am sure your ship is glad to have both mechanic and doctor all in one package, Nigelchka."

Nigel starts out of the ward, "Well, they're an interesting lot and I seem to almost fit in there. Hell, they even to think I'm funny... or at least they laugh an awful lot around me."

Rivenova chuckles softly. "It sounds as if you've good people on your crew, then. Good! Am glad. I... admit was worried for you a little, especially after hearing of what Boss Higgins did."

Nigel scowls and reaches up to rub at the scar on his cheek, "Yeah, I was worried for me, too. The bas-" He catches himself, but then says it anyway, "The bastard needs to have something done to his towering ego and his towering idiocy. Maybe if he weren't a complete moron he'd realize that one day he'll pick on the wrong person." The nervous little man is leading his former professor toward the exit.

Once outside, Rivenova points out a nice lovely little deli that sits on the edge of a small stream running nearby and feeding a park pond. "Not exactly the student union," she chuckles, "but quite real enough. And they make a lovely tea. Da, Higgins is finding it hard to get good medical help. Am sure he will come into his just desserts all in good time."

Nigel heads toward the deli, lips twitching a little bit, "Couldn't happen to a nicer fellow." The half-smile turns a little bleak, "Apparently mostly what he did by branding me was to turn me into some sort of hero. You know there's a story that I faced him down over one of the mudders?"

Rivenova blinks, then laughs as they sit at a table. "Nyet, really? Oh, my! Best be careful, Nigelchka, or you'll be folk hero!"

Nigel rolls his eyes and even helps Rivenova with her chair, "No fear of that. I'm too truthful to let that stand as the story for long." He seats himself across from her, folding his hands on top of the table, "The captain had heard that one, but I set her straight on it. I was just trying to do my job and he was being whiny and self-important."

Rivenova grins. "Of course you were. Even so, when taking on the Big Bad Wolf, legends have a habit of being made out of even the littlest things."

Nigel shakes his head with a laugh, "Oh, hell, Higgins isn't the Big Bad Wolf -- he's a lapdog with delusions of importance. And I'm not a hero. I'm a grouchy little man who likes machines. Eventually somebody will do something more spectacular and I'll get to go back to being utterly obscure." After he's settled he changes the subject rather abruptly, as if talking about becoming a legend makes him nervous, "Are you here because of the Twitches? Or are you just trying to take in as much as you can out here in the back of beyond? Bionics certainly aren't exactly common on the Border Moons. Some of these places do well to have sutures."

Rivenova smiles a bit and takes a sip of her tea. "To some, just standing up for your beliefs is heroic. Nyet, am not here for the Twitches specifically. But am looking into prosthetic research for those with advanced cases. Basically am on tour to evaluate prosthetic applications in Border Moons. Nyet, not many places out here do prosthetics, but would be surprised!"

Nigel's brows go up at the mention of advanced cases needing prosthetics. Much as he loves to hate the doctoring side of things, bionics really did catch his fancy once upon a time, "What kind of damage does an advanced case do?"

Rivenova shakes her head. "Well... the parasite lodges in nerve tissue. Interferes with signals to distal limbs. Fingers first, then hands and feet, then arms and legs. Causes twitching, severe inflammation, fever. Advanced cases, nerve tissue becomes swollen and starts to fail. Still treatable until very end, though; very end of parasite infection is when nerve tissue becomes too hostile to parasite, and parasite dies off, but not before severe damage to nerves leading to distal limbs. Prosthetics might be able to help, but would involve re-wiring entire nervous system to limb."

Nigel chews on his bottom lip, thinking about that, "So we're not talking so much artificial limbs as creating new connections actually inside the patient... that would be an interesting challenge."

Rivenova nods. "Da, it's a different sort of challenge. Because this sort of nerve degeneration isn't seen much in Central Planets, not that many are researching it. Still, any challenge that can bring succor to those suffering is good challenge, da?"

Nigel chuckles, "You've always been a lot more compassionate than I am, you know. My thoughts were that I could spent months on it and never get bored..."

Rivenova grins. "Would be lying if didn't admit to enjoying the challenge for challenge's sake, Nigelchka."

Nigel chuckles and leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach, "Well, I guess you don't go into bionics if you don't like a challenge. You want easy medicine, you become a podiatrist."

Rivenova laughs softly. "Da, is true! And if are wanting easy practice, stay on Central Planets." She grins wickedly. "Here is to not doing things easy."

Nigel's own half-smile turns into a wide grin and he makes a glass-raising motion, "May there always be one more hill to climb."

Rivenova says, "Am thinking there always will be, no matter how far into 'verse Central medical tech reaches. So! How long on Ashtoreth will you be, Nigelchka?" She grins. "I've at least one stuffy shirt that could use deflating."

Nigel says, "Oh, I think I've got a little time to spare. We've got a few things we have to pick up and I've got some shopping I need to do. I... ah... lost a few of my puzzles." He looks a little more sober, "I've got some things I have to keep an eye on, on the ship, too. But I'd be happy to be a little pin-prick if you need it."

Rivenova laughs. "Ochen'zhdu, I can't wait! It will be lovely to see. Spasibo, Nigelchka, I'd love your insight into some of this." She grins wickedly. "And your pin-poking!"

Nigel's smile is a little less than full, having brought his own mind back to Danviere and Wintarsen, "Just send me a 'wave when you need me. And I'll check with the captain about how long our stay is going to be."

Rivenova nods cheerfully, "Da, I will do so." She smiles. "And what of you, Nigelchka? Anything this old professor can do to help?"

Nigel seems to really consider that for a moment, "I'll have to think on that. I really will." The thought of bringing Rivenova in on the patently illegal things going on onboard the Chimera makes him distinctly uncomfortable... but sometimes you have to swallow such things in a good cause.

She smiles. "Is fine, Nigelchka. Will be on Ashtoreth for another few weeks, then. Well, you have my itinerary, I hope? Admittedly am surprised you hadn't known of Twitches. Was in medical journal few months ago, and medical implications of it, which is why I decided to come here first."

Nigel shrugs at the mention of the journal, "I've let some of my reading slide, unfortunately, but I'll certainly look into it when I get a chance."

Rivenova smiles. "You should. Is interesting reading! I know neurochemistry is not your choice, but is related to prosthetics. Twitches can get very bad if not treated, even beyond prosthetic needs. On other hand, parasite does make nerve tissue easier to locate and work with -- even if inflamed -- for brief periods. I will forward you a copy of the article. Article is dry, so dry it's painfully in need of water, vodka, something, but still could be interesting."

Nigel smiles crookedly, "I'll be sure to take it with a grain of salt and slug of whisky then."

Rivenova laughs. "Well, I am thinking I should be back to hospital, sadly. Perhaps we can get together again later, da? Can tell you how Montressor made great fool of himself yet again!"

Nigel snorts, "Yeah, the big buffoon sent me a 'wave about how sad it was I couldn't have gotten a job under him at his new post." The eye roll that follows is truly a thing of sarcastic beauty. "But I can't wait to hear your side of it." He stands up, "I'll be glad to walk you back to the hospital. I might even take a peek at the Twitches ward. Get a feeling for it, you know."

Rivenova scowls. "Bah, should have known he'd pull something like that. Am truly sorry, Nigelchka. I should have pulled his ears back while still in medical school." She stands, smiling. "Well, let's be back, then! Martins will be thinking am another Central who doesn't give damn about Border Moons."

The fond look Nigel gives her would probably shock his crewmates, since the closest they've seen to it was a fond gaze he gave the Chimera's engine upon realizing it was all his, "You give too much of a damn is your problem."

The crew has gathered in the ship's lounge in the afternoon of the third day, at Solbiort's request. The crews' errands have been run, and the re-provisions arranged for. In addition, Nigel has found -- unlabeled and unannounced -- a few new puzzles nestled neatly on the engine room console where he would be sure to find them.

Solbiort does not look happy as she speaks. "Folks, vant to varn you about something. I have some contacts who're still in military, and I check vith them about Fleur-de-Croix to see how that vent." She takes a slow breath, then continues, "They could not tell me anything about underground facilities, even though they vere called in to investigate... because the team that vent in vas obliterated. By a nuke."

Elgyn seems startled. "By the ancestors."

Solbiort says, "I don't know gwai-gwai long duh dong our little 'friends' are up to, but they're playing for keeps. I'd like to ask you, Nigel, to make up a list of vays ve can better secure the ship, inside and out. Then talk to Molly for contacts here, and to Raj for good purchasing prices, and let's buy vhat equipment ve can to make ourselves as safe as ve can on board ship. Ve can't stop them blowing up an entire port, but ve can at least make sure they don't slap a mine on us." She adds, "I'd like to stay here a veek to get that done. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

Nigel nods solemnly, eyes narrowing slightly. One of those new puzzles is in his hands, fingers moving over it as he works with the unfamiliar ins and outs of it, "I'll do what I can, captain."

Solbiort says, "Sheh-sheh, Nigel."

Raj says, "I'll do what I can on the procurement side but delivery may be problematic for anything exotic." He adds, "Do you mean the folks sent by the government to investigate the incident were on-site, and it was nuked? An honest-to-god nuke?"

Solbiort nods grimly to Raj, "Ya."

Raj says, "How sure are your sources the site was nuked by folks associated with the ship? It's a stretch, but do they think the base might have been rigged?" Raj shakes his head, confused, "That doesn't sound like them at all, but a nuke is overkill -- even for the Alliance at it's worst."

Solbiort adds, "Everyone, if Nigel needs help from you, please give it! This is our lives on the line." She turns to Raj, "The base was rigged -- that's the point. The nuke blew vhen team vas inside. I don't think it's the Alliance any more. Don't think it's Browncoats either. This is a new breed of hwoon dahn."

Elgyn shakes his head... an actual nuclear device. He was told of such things during the war: it wasn't what they used on Shadow -- that was an accident with kinetic ordnance and a lava bubble. But the idea of such a devastating weapon being used on his people was one of the things that spurred him on during the war. Fortunately, nukes were rarely if ever used; both sides were fighting for hearts-and-minds and territory, and they knew that the people would not accept the side that used nuclear weapons.

Raj says, "So, you're thinking the ship that attacked us destroyed the base, then rigged it with a nuke? Why would they do that? It makes no sense. The only people they'd catch were either officials or some random yahoo that stumbled across it. Nobody's gonna believe a tiny Indep cell in the middle of nowhere set that up."

Solbiort says, "This could have been a coincidence, Raj. But I don't believe that, because it appears all the officials associated vith Ariel, vhere Vintarsen vas incarcerated... are also all dead. That's 8 people in 8 separate incidents -- some of vhich killed a lot of innocent bystanders." She looks grim, "These people play for keeps. In effect, entire Indep facility as vell as any incriminating evidence the Alliance might have found -- vas completely viped off the map."

Nigel smiles bleakly, "So.... it's someone that wants to keep the whole thing quiet."

Solbiort says, "Ya. Very qviet."

Raj nods, "That's the way it looks. Why would they wait until the investigation team was on-site to burn it down, though? It would have been easy enough to do it right away."

Solbiort says, "I don't know, Raj -- I don't vork for them. Perhaps it vas a varning to the Alliance; perhaps they hoped to get us returning for any survivors. The fact remains: they did it. Everyvon please keep this in mind, and be cautious and quick here, ya? Cautious, quick -- and discreet. Let's not talk about this to anyvon ve don't trust implicitly."

Elgyn nods bleakly. "Wasn't planning on telling anyone before, but..."

Raj snorts, "Hell, let's just agree to not talk about it except on the ship. With all the doors locked. And the windows covered. And maybe in orbit..."

Solbiort says, "Vorks for me, Raj. So. That's all I had to say. Anyvon else got any news?"

Elgyn looks around at the others. "Nothing of general interest, except that I found out quite by accident there's active Tong presence here."

Solbiort rolls her eyes, "Joy on our haus."

Raj says, "I've got some business to lay out, but nothing that exciting? Anyone else got anything else in the 'look out for the nuke' range?"

Solbiort shakes her head to Raj, "Just vant to help Nigel get things done qvickly. Oh, and Raj -- am thinking no passengers. The two ve have are quite enough, ya?"

Raj nods, "Ya. No passengers, no moles either."

Nigel snorts quietly and gives Raj a quick little grin, popping the puzzle back into his pocket. "Hey, I'm happy with just the people we've got so far."

Solbiort grins quietly at Nigel, then says, "Hmm... vould also like to return to Skamandrios at some point, if you find cargo near there? Have message for Five Dragons."

Raj says, "Let's take this in order of interest... first an anonymous shipment of 'indentured servitors' in cryo bound for Lilac in Ishtara. In truth, I think we should skip this one. I've had enough of hauling folks in boxes and I'm thinking the folks in the boxes may not have any idea where they're going. Second, a large cargo of Alliance 'dinner bricks' -- you know, those blocks of super-nutritious dirt used as field, emergency, or disaster rations? I'm reasonably sure they're stolen, and reasonably sure the Alliance would (at best) rap our knuckles for trading in stolen government good. I'd recommend against this one too."

Raj continues, "Fortunately, there are several other quite legit possibilities for us to consider." Solbiort looks repulsed at the cryo cargo... then relieved to hear there are more appetizing cargoes available. Elgyn's hand instinctively goes to his knife... when he first found out people actually traded in human lives and got away with it, he wanted to spill blood. Only Solbiort held him back.

Raj says, "Jamison Al'Assad has some livestock going to Barcelon, back to that moon or Roshan, where we've been to before. Sounds messy and smelly, and I've little experience with animals. Anybody here know anything about that kind of work? Also, Arkady Travels has some folks stuck by a mechanical failure headed for Ares. They're a good choice but if we're not taking on folks, they're out. Last is a shipment of textiles and fabrics and such bound for Persephone, way over in Osterfrau. It's a long haul, but she's paying a premium."

Nigel settles in tailor-fashion on the floor and listens, hands folded in his lap, fingers still moving in a fidgety way. Solbiort glances inquiringly at Elgyn when asked about livestock handling. Raj says, "Once we have some idea of where we're headed, we'll be able to post our itinerary and consider any open offers that come to us. My recommendation is Ms. Gaupa's shipment. It's pretty harmless, a good margin, and we can fill with fluff and dross from stop to stop on the way."

Solbiort makes a small half-amused, half-disgusted face at mention of Persephone, then nods to Raj. "Can ve take more than von?"

Elgyn grimaces. "Not really my talent, captain. My experience was more with horses, and that even only a little... I was more the sort that went on foot than rode into battle." Solbiort nods to Elgyn.

Raj says, "Well, yes, but we don't have any offers on the table to add that seem like a good idea: no passengers, no cryo, maybe livestock, and an outside chance on the dinner bricks."

Solbiort says, "Vhat sort of livestock, Raj?"

Raj says, "Well, it's a mix of cattle and pigs, and sounds like a complete mess."

Solbiort looks thoughtfully at Molly, "You have any experience?"

Molly shakes her head reluctantly. "Not unless they happen to be explosive cows...."

Solbiort sighs. "Vould love to be able to take livestock, but don't think ve vant explosive cows aboard."

Nigel smirks, "I've only had experience with them as food and anatomy studies." Solbiort grins at Nigel.

Raj says, "So, do we want to even consider the dinner bricks? They're contraband at least, and almost certainly stolen. I'd rather fill the tonnage with mail or almost anything else."

Solbiort drums her fingers thoughtfully, then nods to Raj, "Sounds like Persephone is best bet. Vould like to take livestock, but need somevon experienced for that."

Elgyn scratches his chin. "Captain, I know you want to return to Skamandrios... but maybe the shipment to Persephone is best. Put some distance between us and these nuke-loving people."

Solbiort nods to Elgyn, "Ya, am happy to pull them off our trail a bit. Doubt that greedy hwoon dahn Xi Reilly vill remember us."

Raj smiles grimly, "Dunno who that might be, but my experience is folks that don't like you don't forget."

Elgyn folds his hands under his arms. "If he does, can I hit him this time?" he says blandly. It's not clear if he's serious.

Solbiort smiles sourly, "Xi Reilly vas a huge name videodrama guy. Remember him? He vas the terraforming team captain in 'Vorld.'" She grins at Elgyn, "Only if vidcams not on, di-di!"

Raj says, "One more thing I think I need to report. One of the Indep Majors my unit engaged during the war is in town. He seems to blame us, and me in particular, for doing our jobs as soldiers. If he knows I'm here he may try to make our life harder, up to and including random gunplay."

Solbiort nods thoughtfully to Raj, "Sheh-sheh for varning, Raj."

Raj says, "I've got a couple of up-to-date shots of him and his lunch companion on my terminal." Looking sour, he taps a few keys and continues, "I'll pass them around so you know what Major Darius looks like."

Solbiort nods, pleased to see there's recognizable info, and studies the shots carefully. After a moment she looks up and sighs slightly, "Vell. Folks, be careful -- vant us all in von piece. Anything else ve need to cover, then? Oh, also, Raj -- if you find cargo for near Demeter, that also vould be good. Ve still need to pick up our missing shuttle."

Elgyn's brow creases. "That actually reminds me..."

Raj nods, "I'll contact Ms. Gaupa and tell her we'll take the cargo, and post our itinerary on the local boards. If there's any other cargo going that way, we should know soon."

Solbiort says, "Sheh-sheh, Raj. Ya, Elgyn?"

Elgyn says, "In all the mess, we seem to have forgotten about Gorman and the Doctor that Raj was guarding. Are we still persisting in not worrying about them?"

Solbiort says, "They also are on Demeter, theoretically. Am assuming Raj is keeping eye on news for his doctor's reappearance. Is up to him."

Raj looks up from the terminal, "Well, I contacted the university folks, and the agency I was working through, and as far as they're concerned he's off my plate. I've got some feelers out and, if anybody happens to hear anything I'd like to know it, but there's very little I can do right now."

Solbiort says, "Goot. Anyvon else have anything else to report? If not, onvards." Elgyn nods, thoughtful. He mostly does not care for loose ends. Nigel shakes his head, still sitting. He's been a little quieter since his lunch with his old professor. And it might just be imagination, but his accent isn't quite as thick.

Solbiort has new things for Danviere and Wintarsen to listen to that night, when she comes in for her daily reading to them. She starts reading from some of Wintarsen's writings, slowly and clearly. It's her hope some of this may reach either of the two former Indeps in the same way the quote from 'The Third Way' reached Wintarsen earlier. Solbiort intends to read a chapter a night, taking her time and occasionally interjecting her own thoughts as she reads, to make it more like a conversation they might be having with someone. She also pauses occasionally to take a peek at them, to see if either of them are reacting. She knows patience will more likely win the day on this... but she certainly wouldn't object to a speedier recovery. Elgyn stops by on occasion... not speaking, just quietly listening. It's not clear if he's there because he's concerned after the recovery of his ultimate Sonia during the war... or because Solbiort is there.

A few nights later Nigel has done his shopping list for the day, and Raj and Molly are planning on doing the actual shopping on the following morning. Molly has slipped into her role comfortably, seeming enthusiastic to be part of the crew. The package Nigel has come up with includes strong external video equipment, much-needed internal cameras, and IR sensors. The defenses include some anesthetic gas for the airlocks and boarding locks. In all it will take a few of days for the equipment to be installed by the crew; the gas in the airlocks will be the longest task. Nigel has some free time, now, and decides to make use of the new meds he procured for Wintarsen and Danviere. He arrives at the infirmary at about the same time Solbiort and Elgyn are there. Solbiort nods politely to Nigel, still reading quietly.

Nigel nods back, expression serious as he checks over each of his patients. He takes a deep breath as he gets out the medication, "I gorram well hope this works... it annoys the ruttin' hell out of me when I can't figure this go-se out." With that, the little mechanic/doctor starts to administer the drugs, first to Wintarsen.

Solbiort considers a moment... then quietly continues reading, since Nigel's not asked her to stop. She does glance up a tad bit more often, curious as to what Nigel's trying. Elgyn is just quietly watching as well... while he'd never admit it, he's in awe of Nigel's proficiency. More than once he's wondered if, had he been there, Nigel could have saved his sister's life.

Nigel has gone into that space most of the crew has seen him in at one time or another, zeroed in on what he's doing. Once the drugs have been administered to Wintarsen, he moves on to Danviere. The medications are applied intravenously into the Ringer's drip that's keeping both Wintarsen and Danviere hydrated. As Solbiort reads, Nigel watches the encephalograph, which has been even more wildly erratic than normal for a human. The chaotic patterns begin to calm somewhat, though they are still entirely random, and start to look a little less like REM sleep.

The passage that Solbiort is reading from is Wintarsen's address to his troops late in the war, about four months before he was captured. And as she reads, and as the meds take effect, Wintarsen once again speaks along with the passage... but this time it is with growing intensity, or rather a quiet passion, his voice growing in strength, though he still lies on the bed.

"And we fight, not to die, for there is no goal achieved to fight and die. No, we fight to live, to live for our friends and families and loved ones. To live in the way we seek to live, without the monolith of the Alliance towering over us and darkening the open sky. Do not seek to throw your lives away. For it is easy to say 'This is worth dying for!' It is harder to say...." And at this his voice starts to falter. "Harder... to say... 'This is worth living...." His voice catches, and his words become shaky. "This... is worth... living for...." Then, weakly and trembling, he says in a frail, almost weeping voice, as he reaches up to cover his eyes with a hand, "Worth... living... for...."

Solbiort hastily starts recording -- this she does not want to lose! Elgyn straightens from where he was leaning, watching and listening. Solbiort sighs, suddenly registering what the poor man is saying... and what he must be remembering. She stops reading, tucking the terminal away, and moves to stand on the other side of Wintarsen from Nigel. As long as Nigel doesn't object, she'll take Wintarsen's hand and murmur quietly to the former general, "Vorth living for... live, Arvid!"

Nigel almost seems to be holding his breath as he hovers over the war hero, letting the captain take the haggard man's hand. It's difficult to divide his attention between the two patients, but he does do his best. Danviere is still out, meanwhile, Wintarsen is starting to shake. "Live... trying... want to live... live... but they... no, gods, no, not the box again...."

Solbiort says, "No, no more box. The box is gone. You have to live now." She's starting to look worried, although it doesn't show in her voice. Was Wintarsen's mind deliberately broken before he was frozen?

Nigel's lips thin as he presses them together. One hand goes to Wintarsen's shoulder and squeezes. Shaking his head, he backs up the captain, "No more bitty little gorram boxes. Just the Black and living." Solbiort nods grimly to Nigel, then turns her focus back on Wintarsen. She talks as she would to a frightened boy on Midgaard, her voice calm and soothing and reassuring, coaxing him towards calm response.

Wintarsen's breathing becomes a little panicked and ragged, his pulse increasing. "No... no box... good... good, no box. I can... I can be me again... Arvid... Arvid Win... Wintarsen...." Then in a stronger voice, "General Arvid Wintarsen, Independent Fact...." His voice trails off. "No... no, I'm... no, just... no, I was just Wintarsen... I think...."

Solbiort doesn't interrupt the man, but if his voice trails off she'll try calling his name again, trying to pull him out of this strange half-life. She uses his actual name, with no titles, the way a friend might. Elgyn silently growls, and shakes his head What did they do to this noble man? he fumes internally. Nigel nods, murmuring, "That's right, Wintarsen. Just Wintarsen. The war's long gone and over, grandpa."

"But... but the Battle of Tien An Shih... operational assets, 490th, 2011th, and 91st Overlanders, 190th Meteoric. Threat assets, Alliance 170th Marine Brigade, cruiser Thoth... but... but I wasn't there...." He sags in the bed, weakly. "But I was there, but I don't remember being there...."

Solbiort blinks at a sudden thought, although her calming tone of voice doesn't change -- could Wintarsen have been someone's puppet? Is the "real" Wintarsen someone else, and this is just the "public face" Wintarsen? She knows the Battle of Tien An Shih was large and bloody, and was supposedly one of the last battles where Wintarsen actually took the field.

Nigel taps the old man lightly on the forehead, "Don't strain your frontal lobe, grandpa. Relax." He checks the stats on Danviere with a glance, "We have a friend of yours here, too."

Wintarsen murmurs weakly, "...friend....?"

Solbiort also notices the man's eyes are starting to open, so she schools her face to calm and continues her serene tone, "Ya, Vintarsen, you are among friends now. Danviere is here also." She wonders how he'll react to that news.

Wintarsen's lips curl into a bit of a smile. "February... god, I missed her... she was there with me at... at.... Somewhere. Somewhen. Where is she...?"

Solbiort says, "She is here. You must live, though."

Wintarsen sags again. "They... they got her, too?"

Solbiort says, "She is here vith us, Vintarsen. You are safe. You are among friends." She works on making her voice both strong and encouraging.

Nigel gently turns Wintarsen's head until he can see the other bed where Danviere rests in her coma, "Over here, grandpa. Still asleep."

Wintarsen looks over, and weakly tries reaching towards her. "God... I didn't want... didn't want this for her... didn't deserve this..."

Nigel puts Wintarsen's hand back on his own bed, "Relax, old man, she'll be OK." He smirks tiredly, "I sort of take it personally when someone I'm fixing breaks for good." Solbiort falls silent, still holding one of Wintarsen's hands but letting him wake up at his own speed under Nigel's care. She wonders what relationship the two had with Xin. Poor folks... they're truly people out of time.

Wintarsen closes his eyes again. "Can't... think straight... where am I...?"

Solbiort glances up at Nigel, "Should he sleep now?"

Nigel shakes his head to Solbiort, "You're on a ship. You're safe. We're not out to hurt you or your lady over there." He snorts quietly, "Hell, I've worked too frellin' hard on waking you up to put you back out again."

Solbiort smiles quietly and remains, then, lightly running the fingers of her free hand along Wintarsen's arm, so there's some tactile reassurance as well as his hand being held. Wintarsen becomes quiet. Meanwhile, Danviere's meds have been working, but oddly she's still out -- not merely in REM sleep, but out. Nigel leaves Wintarsen and moves over closer to Danviere, peering at her scans. What he sees there makes him snarl and kick the base of the bed she's on. "Oh, what in name of Buddha's gorram shiny scrotum have they done to these people..."

Solbiort raises an eyebrow, but remains where she is, safely out of the doctor's way. Nigel taps in some information into the terminal, saving scans of the two ex-Browncoats to compare and possibly to show the rest of the crew later, still muttering, "One day, I'll figure out why the hell these arseholes feel they're allowed to go muckin' about in people's ruttin' brains!"

Solbiort says, "Vhat is vrong, Nigel?"

Nigel shakes his head, "They've messed with their memory centers... it's like they were tryin' to erase the two of them like some... some... gorram robot hard drive." He kicks the wall again, face livid.

Solbiort nods silently, suddenly understanding both why Wintarsen can't remember properly -- and why the Alliance would so desperately want this covered up. She sighs quietly, wondering who the red-half-moon people are. They certainly seem to desperately wish to harm the Alliance... but they seem to have no compunctions against harming innocent bystanders either.

Elgyn shakes his head. "I don't understand... why would they bother? The Independents were already beat... why erase the memory of its greatest military minds?"

Solbiort murmurs softly, "To keep them beaten, di-di Elgyn. Und perhaps, if they truly considered these minds to be like... gorram robot hard drives, they also endeavored to make copies."

Elgyn finds himself needing to sit. "This all seems so unreal, Captain. Even considering what I know now of the technology we lost. Erasing minds? It sounds like myth..." Solbiort nods in silent agreement, still quietly and reassuringly holding Wintarsen's hand.

Nigel snorts through his nose, "They wanted to make sure they couldn't do the same thing all over again."

Solbiort nods to Nigel, "Looks like it." She sighs quietly, then adds, "So... vhat now, di-di Nigel? Anything ve can do to help them?"

Nigel rubs his forehead with his fingertips, "I'd need access to some serious hardware to even get close... I could work on it." He chews his lips, having a glimmer of an idea but not being sure he can ask such a favor, even from Rivenova.

Solbiort considers for a few moments, then says slowly, "Must it be done immediately, di-di? Or can ve safely hold her until ve have the necessary equipment?"

Nigel shakes his head gloomily, "I can keep them chugging along and grandpa can have food soon."

Solbiort nods slowly, "Then ve do so, please... und vhen ve can, ve work more on Danviere, ya?" She glances down at the haggard boy whose hand she's holding, studying his pale, emaciated face, and murmurs, "Und someday... they be able to face those who do this to them."

Elgyn shakes his head. "Nigel... is there anything you can really do for them? I mean... if they tried to erase their minds, you can't really heal that... can you?"

Nigel shrugs, saying truthfully, "We won't know till I try, do we?"

Solbiort says firmly, "Do vhat you can, di-di Nigel. Ve vill keep ship running to help pay for vhatever ve need." She adds quietly to Elgyn, "Never give up."

Elgyn shakes his head. "This is not an enemy I am used to fighting, Captain. I do not know how to find its heart with my blade. But I will wish your luck will aid Nigel's skills."

Nigel smiles crookedly at Elgyn, "Y'know, it might be a kind of knife that does it in. A scalpel, anyway."

Elgyn smiles a little. "What is a doctor but a warrior that fights death?" he queries simply. Nigel snorts quietly.

Elgyn leaves not long after... while he does not feel precisely helpless, something Raj said earlier makes him want to see if he might act on those things he can. So he seeks out Raj, and finds him hard at work repairing something in the engine room. "Do you have a moment, Raj?" he queries respectfully.

Raj glances up from the coupling he's rebuilding, "Hey, Elgyn. What's up?"

Elgyn folds his arms behind his back. "I was wondering... I thought I might seek out this Darius. Perhaps try and talk things over."

Raj blinks, pausing in his work a moment. He continues, saying, "Well, I appreciate that, but I'd be most surprised if old Darius could be talked out of his unhappiness. You do realize he blames my unit for pretty much crippling his command, right?"

Elgyn is quiet for a moment and then sits. "After the war, when I decided to seek out the captain and offer her my service, I was taken aback by the level of... respect I received from the Alliance soldiers at her base. I did not expect this from non-Ulundi. And by and large, that equality of treatment continued, until she was discharged from service. I am not surprised by this Darius's reaction -- it was what I originally expected from those warriors, and I have too seen lack of respect between soldiers on both sides since then. But perhaps Darius might accept wisdom from one who once fought on the same side as he."

Raj shifts a task-light to brighten the bits he's working on, and says, "Well, I'm not sure what Ulundi might be, and I'm glad Solbiort got respect from folks in her unit, but I think you might be disappointed by Darius' reaction. One of the things it seems important to do during a war is to make the folks on the other side seem like they're not really human, so it's easier to kill them."

He pauses a moment, glancing up at Elgyn before continuing. "As far as he's concerned, the Alliance cheated by sending me and the others. I don't know if you heard much about some of the combat mods the Alliance fielded." He puts down the pump, and holds his arm up in the bright cone from the lamp. Elgyn sees the silvery highlights on his skin catching the light. "Surely you've noticed this. It's not a tattoo, or scars. It's what's left of one of those combat mods."

Raj picks up the pump again, and goes back to work. "It makes it easier for Darius to make me out a monster, and to blame us... blame me for the men dying." He shakes his head, focusing on his work, and goes on, "Just like that poor bastard that tried to jump me at the medlab, he made a mistake, and we got our shots off first."

Elgyn looks several times like he would interject... but he keeps getting stopped by Raj's words, intrigued by what he hears. "I am sorry, I do not understand... combat mods?" he queries, this concept being unfamiliar to him.

Raj looks at Elgyn a moment, thinking. "You know how some folks in the field might take some kind of stim to hop them up just before the enemy comes at you, or have a 'special voodoo tea' they were sure might make them see a little better on patrol, or even pop a little something to help them bulk up?"

Elgyn makes a face... he is familiar with this concept. More than once because of his tattoos he was thought to be some sort of archaic berserker, and was asked if he had any 'special herbs' that he took to fortify himself before battle. "Yes," he says ruefully.

Raj says, "The docs always tell you that's no good and you shouldn't oughta do it, but folks do it anyway. Heck, they have all sorts of tests to tell when folks been doing that. Well, if they've got the tests, they know how it all works. And nothing's stopping them from actually figuring out how to make soldiers able to do those kinds of things on a more permanent basis. Drugs, surgery, biomod, implants -- some of it's mental conditioning... I'm not really sure exactly what the details were," Raj sets down the pump and his tools and looks at Elgyn, "and that's why Darius thinks we cheated. In one way of looking at it, we did. He thought his opponents were just soldiers like his men. And we weren't."

Elgyn's eyes widen at the implication. He is quiet, musing over that. "It surely seems unnatural... but then, to me, who grew up with none of this..." he waves his arms around as if to encompass the ship, "there is, perhaps, an unequal frame of reference." He looks at Raj curiously, studying those silver marks. "What does it feel like? Did it hurt, to be changed? Does it hurt still?"

Raj grins a bit and chortles, "Hurt? Oh, Hell no. It wasn't fun, for sure, but you get used to the prodding, the poking, and the healing up. Sort of like always being in boot camp, to be honest. We got the best treatment I've ever seen, and stuff I've never seen before, but when we were done," Raj sighs just a bit wistfully, "it was like always being on the bounce, always ready to move... well, it was for me."

"There was some unpleasantness near the end of the war, mostly about us being too effective, and truth be told I'm sure some of the stories weren't all wrong. Some of the others seemed a little to eager to be 'death in the night' and 'silent ninja stalkers' and such. We were 'decommissioned' and a lot of the gear simply was turned off or not re-juiced or somesuch. I'm sure there's a bit of hum left in the Silver Wire -- that's what they called us, you know -- but nothing like before." He shrugs, and picks up the pump. "This isn't anything you can't find out for yourself. I'm sure it's somewhere on the Cortex if you search a bit. Seriously though, Darius is sure we were monsters, and would simply think you'd been duped or didn't understand the real horror that I am. Worst case, he'd try to use you against the Captain. Blow a leg off or something, and take you hostage. Not good, eh?"

Elgyn purses his lips. "From your words, he sounds like a man whose pain has eaten away at him. It is a festering wound that might have already poisoned him. It blinds him to logic." He gestures at himself. "I was more than a scout. On occasion I too had occasions to be 'death in the night,' as you say. Any warrior who let down his guard fell to my blade, but I gave them all clean deaths. And I did this for three years. And I did it with only the skills taught me as a babe, and the blood of generations of warriors on both sides of my family. Does that make me equally a 'monster'?" He shakes his head in bemusement. "Still, if this Darius is not alone, perhaps it would be best not to tempt fate."

Raj nods, "There are many folks still carrying wounds from the war, but Darius is the type to let them not heal as they may. I don't know his status right now, but I'd be surprised if he didn't have back up. As for being 'death in the night'... well, it's not something I ever aspired to. I was glad to do my duty but, as you say, letting your past eat you away blinds you to logic. Right now we've got a ship to tend, and a chance to be something other than what folks like Darius expects. Does that jibe with your plans, Elgyn? I'd hate to think me being a 'Silver Wire' was going to be a problem..."

Elgyn smiles a little. "After learning that some in this Verse have the power to erase minds, Raj, there is very little that would shock me. And I certainly hold no grudge against you for the war, any less than I hold one against my Captain. I killed your comrades, and you killed mine. But that is over and done. Now it is we that are comrades... and if they come after you, then we will fight them together, if needs be."

Raj says, "Well, that's good to know. Just to be on the safe side, let's not compare notes too closely on who was where when, eh? One thing I learned in the field is to tempt fate as little as possible." He considers a moment, then says, "I don't think Darius has too many friends, but he may have any number of unhappy people working for him. You might not want to make your knowledge about the whole Silver Wire thing too public."

Elgyn smiles. "Do you think, Raj, it is possible that I could speak even less in public than I already do?" he drawls, almost joking.

Raj laughs, "OK! You got me! And folks say I'm quiet..."

Elgyn stands then... but pauses. "Ulundi is my home, in response to your earlier question. I am not surprised you haven't heard of it."

Raj says, "Oh! Well, there's lots of places I've not been. Should I keep an ear open for cargo headed that way?"

Elgyn blinks. He had not thought of that. "Yes, actually... if there is cargo going there, I should actually be fascinated to hear of it. There is little news of my home on the Cortex... or to be precise, none."

Raj looks puzzled, "None? Well, that's... downright odd. Can you think of some reason for that?"

Elgyn shrugs. "Ulundi was a forgotten world before the war... we did not even enter the war until Shadow's colonies were destroyed, and the Independents found us nearby... and seeing our love and our talent for war making, invited us into the 'Verse and its conflict. It is perhaps not surprising that it has gone back to being a forgotten world." He smiles wryly. "We had all but forgotten the technology that brought us there, many generations ago." He pats his revolver. "It took me some time to comprehend the inner workings of even something as simple as this."

Raising an eyebrow, Raj says, "So it's not so much that there's 'no news' as there just isn't any news." He nods, "Well, I may have been a grunt, but I'm pretty good with my hands, and if you've got a question about how something's put together (maybe especially firearms), just say something. Lord knows I spent enough time around snooty University types who thought they knew everything to be damn tired of that down-the-nose look." With a sly grin, he says, "There's no dumb questions, just dumb teachers..."

Elgyn laughs. "Oh, I have learned well my 'tools of the trade' by now, Raj... I've had eleven years to do so. Solbiort has even taught me something of repair, of astrogation, and even now I am learning how to use these mighty space weapons. But I suspect your 'silver wires' are far beyond my comprehension." He gives the older man a nod. "But I will accept anything you might teach should the need arise. I know I still have much to learn." He puts his hand over his heart. "Strength and honor, warrior."

Raj nods. "Well, it's not the tools, but the user. I'm sure we'll both learn something, as time goes by."

The days progress, as the Scarlet Chimera is outfitted with the new defense systems. It's long work, and since they're doing it without outside contractors, they're pretty much learning as they're doing. Part of this is discovering at the last moment that they need specific parts or plans. In this case, Solbiort is prowling the Docks for a supplier of samoflanges. Whatever the gorram hell they are.

Solbiort rolls her eyes in amused exasperation, remembering Nigel's terse explanation: samoflanges were the necessary catalysts for the conversion modules. Considering he'd been literally pulling his hair out by that point, she'd decided it was kinder not to ask what the conversion modules were or did. So she checks her terminal, following directions to a distant shop in Astarte City which claims to sell such objects. Idly she wishes she had her wing -- it'd sure be faster to simply soar over the city.

While she prowls the docks, she spots what looks to be a minor emergency response going on about a mile from the Chimera. It appears that a small Firefly/01-class transport is being bathed in fire-retardant/radiation-absorbtive foam. From the look of the containers that toppled onto it, and the way a black-coated man is exchanging harsh words with the wharfmaster (not Guyon), it looks like some containers toppled onto the Firefly and cracked open the engine bulb. A bunch of passengers are on the sidelines, watching and looking a bit forlorn.

Solbiort is a bit surprised -- Guyon had seemed extremely capable to her. Still, no knowing what the other wharfmasters are like. She's relieved the Chimera is docked in Guyon's area. She's also relieved it wasn't her ship -- the poor Chimera really wouldn't need that just now. She makes a note to keep clumsy dockworkers well away from the ship... then hmms and wonders if Guyon would know where to find samoflanges.

Solbiort also wonders, as she tries reaching Guyon, why the passengers are standing around. Was this ship outbound, perhaps? She gives a quick visual check, wondering just how potentially dangerous the cracked engine bulb is. She doesn't know about this ship's captain, but in a similar situation she'd have all her passengers well away from it!

There doesn't appear to be much danger; the foam is more of a preventative measure than anything. Like any good fusion bottle it dissipated fairly quickly once the mechanic shut down the core. The passengers appear to be mostly recent arrivals or people who had been about to take the ship off world. She does, however, notice one of the passengers. He wears a dun-colored, rather well worn greatcoat, thick breeches tucked into somewhat dusty boots, and has a bedroll and satchel slung over his shoulders. What gets her attention is the flow of long, straight, reddish hair which cascades over his shoulders and down his back. He looks at the near-wreck of the ship with mild irritation.

Solbiort pauses, then smiles, leaning against a wall and watching the pretty boy. Lovely hair. She wonders if his face matches that pretty hair.

The man's shoulders rise and then slump with a sigh, and he looks around the area, polishing a pair of small spectacles on the end of his scarf. Solbiort recognizes him as Alexander Kali.

Solbiort raises an interested eyebrow, watching how he moves and reacts before he realizes he's under observation. Mmm... he is swai-swai!

Solbiort mentally adjusts the professor from possibly cutely incompetent but fun... to someone she's unlikely to get to play too much with. She grins amusedly at herself, shaking her head slightly. Bad Soli.

After polishing the spectacles, he sets them on his nose, and, seeing that the wharfmaster and the captain are about to go into fisticuffs, looks heavenward briefly before conferring with another passenger, who offers some kind of diffident response. Shaking his head, he turns to leave the dock area... slowing down and blinking once he spots Solbiort, and looking curious when he notices she was looking in his direction.

Solbiort smiles slowly at the professor, her eyes lazily scanning down him... then back up. Ya, he's swai.

Captain Solbiort Skialdmeyjar is definitely a tall, burly, and intense woman, standing an assertive 6'6". Snug breeches on her sturdy legs are tucked into tall black boots, which smell pleasingly of years of quality leather care. Riding low on her right hip is the holster for her heavy pistol, while on her left the utilitarian pommel of a large knife protrudes from a rune-covered sheath. Her well-worn leather tunic is brilliantly embroidered on the back with fiercely snarling, winged heraldic beasts tangled in battle, leaving her well-muscled shoulders and arms bare. Each wrist sports a wide, decorated [bracelet], while a slender cord about her throat carries several long, colorful beads. Her pale-skinned face is framed in short wings of flame-red hair, and behind her sways a long, thick scarlet braid plaited with a few glittering ornaments. Her deep green eyes study the world with confident amusement.

Kali pauses, half-glancing behind him to see if she's looking at someone behind him, then seems to mentally gird himself a little, and approaches Solbiort. "Hello, ma'am," he says, smiling shyly. "Forgive me, but I'm... somewhat far from home, and not familiar with Ashtoreth. May I ask if you know of any hostels?"

Solbiort's grin widens a bit, looking down at the cute professor, and for a moment -- just a moment! -she considers playing with him a bit. Then she sternly reminds herself how un-valkyrie-like that would be, and schools her emerald gaze to a perhaps less... wicked gleam.

Solbiort says, "Neh, vould not. But am thinking you are the professor Alexander Kali, ya? I am Captain Skialdmeyjar."

Kali blinks, then beams, and bows. "Captain, what a surprise! I'd not expected to meet you here so quickly!" He glances over his shoulder; at this point the wharfmaster is throwing his clipboard on the ground and the captain is taking off his jacket. "Mind you," he says a little wanly, "I also hadn't expected the ship I was arriving on to get containers dropped on it...."

Solbiort chuckles, watching the developing conflict. Absently she says, "Vell, doesn't matter to you if your stuff is off ship already, ya?" She wonders if it would be rude to get involved... usually when there's just two she can't have much fun... but if the dockworkers get involved she'd be happy to wade in on the captain's side.

He coughs a little. "True, yes, but, it's never something that one really gets over. Ah... by your name, I had guessed that you were from Midgaard -- what the Alliance astrographers incorrectly call 'Wagner.' Am I correct?"

Solbiort blinks, her gaze abruptly returning to the swai boy, "Ya!" She grins, her eyes lighting up as she claps him on the shoulder, "You say it right, too -- good for you!"

Kali almost -- but does not quite -- topple over. "Ack-! Er, I mean thank you, captain. I try to learn such things as best as I can, it's more respectful to the people of their world.

Solbiort whupses, putting out a hand to brace the poor man, then grins, "Shuh muh, professor. So, vhat you know of my home, hmm?"

Solbiort adds approvingly, "Nice to see boys vith good manners here in Alliance."

Kali blushes a little, smiling to Solbiort. "Thank you, Captain. I did some study of it, for my doctorate thesis, but I admit that I could only scratch the surface." Behind him, the tussle gets a bit more energetic as a wispy sprite of a fighter somehow makes a leap from the cargo bay of the Firefly, slamming into the wharfmaster in a ballistic tackle. Said wharfmaster is then replaced in fisticuffs with the captain by the foreman -- and then it is well and truly on.

Solbiort's green eyes light up -- her whole demeanor changes, practically crackling with delight as she watches the fight start. Abruptly she says, "Stay here, please -- be right back, ya?" She's grinning wickedly as she strides swiftly past the startled Kali towards the fight. Just before she hits she bellows her own battle cry -- and a moment later she's swinging in the thick of it!

Solbiort enjoys herself tremendously, even though she's not really particular about what side she's on. It appears they're pretty evenly matched, so she doesn't worry about sticking up for the underdog. She knocks a few people around, gets a few good licks in... and shortly thereafter she finds herself standing, still ready to rumble, in a circle of downed and groaning dockworkers and groaning and panting ship's crew. Those still standing give a faint cheer -- and then the captain starts haranguing them to get back to work. Solbiort wipes her forehead with the back of her forearm, then grins at the captain (who nods and mutters quiet thanks), and heads back to where she left the professor. The other passengers have taken to their heels... she wonders if he split or not yet.

The Professor is still there, in about the same place she left him, blinking and looking a bit stunned. "I'd... forgotten how much Midgaardian valkyrior enjoy the fight," he says, a little dazedly.

Solbiort bares her teeth in a grin at the professor, her eyes still flaming-bright from adrenaline, and slaps him lightly on the shoulder, "Goot to remember then, ya? So, come, ve eat now und you tell me about your time on Midgaard." She shudders, adding amusedly, "Vill not vant to eat on ship unless have to."

Solbiort strides swiftly, no longer breathing hard but still dealing with aggressive instincts. She straightens her vest, reties the lacing so she's not flashing anyone accidentally, then runs her fingers through the scarlet wings of hair that frame her face. "There, goot to go."

He nods a little startledly, and follows after Solbiort. "I'd be glad to," he says, settling back into calmness. He politely doesn't look -- TOO obviously -- as Solbiort laces up her vest.

Solbiort, who comes from a culture where bare chests aren't taboo, doesn't notice his kindness. Instead she glances over, realizes he's having to rush to keep up with her, and casually reaches over to divest him of his heavy satchel. Unless he holds on determinedly, she slings it over her shoulder and waves a hand, "Go on? Vhere you visit? Who you see und talk to?"

Kali doesn't resist Solbiort taking his bag, instead smiling to her, "Thank you, Captain. Actually, I came to visit you and your Ulundi friend, following up on your message."

Solbiort sighs amusedly at the professor, then says carefully to the boy, "Ya, am avare of that. But you say you do some study of Midgaard for doctorate vork. You visit, or chust read?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, Captain, I thought you had meant here, on Ashtoreth. I visited Midgaard about nine years ago, just after the end of the war. I stayed at Skaldisholdt and Muninholdt.

Solbiort grins amusedly at the swai-boy, "There ve go. Goot, glad to hear it -- vould love to hear more about them later." She waves a hand, indicating the bar she's been heading for on the way to hunt down the elusive samoflanges, "Here ve are -- good drinks, hot food, und plenty of it!" It's a spacer's bar, of course, rough and unpretentious.

Kali looks a little startled, but mentally girds himself as he walks into the bar with Solbiort. He doesn't look quite blazingly out of place, not drawing attention to himself as an easy mark; but he certainly isn't a spacer, which does get some attention from the others.

Solbiort is obviously somewhat known here -- the bartender looks a little sour, the girl brightens and happily shows Soli to a table, and some of the patrons grin or wince slightly.

Solbiort cheerfully greets the bartender, compliments the girl (causing her to blush prettily), and settles Kali's satchel under the table by her booted feet. The place is a bit crowded, so she makes room next to her for Kali to sit as well. The girl practically scampers back with two mugs and a pitcher of good, nutty-smelling ale.

Kali settles in, looking around a bit cautiously. He doesn't quite ask, 'Is it safe?' but he does appear a bit nervous.

Solbiort gently nudges Kali to pour, then orders two servings of the daily stew from the girl, teasing her gently so she giggles self-consciously before dashing off at someone else's bellow.

It takes only a moment for Kali to notice the pitcher, then he ohs! and pours out the ale in two mugs.

Solbiort cheerfully taps her mug against his, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "To swai-boys!" before she has a long, hefty swallow. The ale is cool and rich, with a hint of chewiness, and she sighs happily as she puts down her mug. "You like?"

Kali blinks startledly at the toast, then takes a pull of the ale. "It's good, yes; thank you, Captain." He adds, "Though talking with you does make me remember the mead of Midgaard fondly."

Solbiort sighs and nods, "Ya... don't have any good mead out here." She looks curiously at the pretty boy, then says, "Who put bracelet on you vhile you on Midgaard? Vere you lovers or just sharing sleeping qvarters?"

He blinks in surprise at the question, and almost but not quite chokes on the ale in the process. Setting it down he daubs at his lips with a napkin a little, coughing, then smiles (as best as he can) shyly. "Ahh... I was honored to wear the bracelets given to me by the leaders of Skaldisholdt, and shared quarters with them, but we were not lovers." He purses his lips a little, dropping his voice. "She also asked I... omit certain things from my thesis, which I could understand why."

Solbiort grins quietly as he coughs, belatedly remembering Alliance boys seem to be shy about sleeping quarters, then listens interestedly to his comments, "Vhat she ask you to omit? Did you?"

He nods as he takes another sip. "We... agreed that the Alliance would not look very favorably on certain aspects of Midgaard culture. Not that Midgaard is bad but that it diverges strongly from Central culture in some areas. And yes, I did gloss over those things. I'm almost sad to say that since there was no prior work or primary sources to compare it too, the committee gave my thesis a passing grade." He takes another sip. "On the other hand, I sent the original, unexpurgated copy of my thesis -- the edition that didn't get sent to the committee -- to the Skaldisholdt leader and it met with her approval, so I would say that must count at least for a little bit.

Solbiort raises a thoughtful eyebrow, considering for a moment while she idly watches the pretty professor drink. As the food arrives she brightens and thanks the girl, then digs in hungrily. To the professor she adds, "Eat up vell -- don't have cook on ship, unfortunately, right now."

Solbiort chews a moment, then curiously asks, "Vhy sad to say?"

Solbiort refills Kali's mug as he eats, still considering.

"No cook? I'm sorry to hear that. I hear a good cook can make even the longest space journey much more bearable." He tilts his head to the side. "If you wish, while I am here on Ashtoreth I could serve as a cook for a night?" In answer to her question he nods, "Because it was... lying, of a sort. Though I do not mind the reasons for it. I understand why I was asked to leave that information about Midgaard out."

Solbiort's eyes widen and she goes still for a moment. Then she hastily finishes chewing and takes a quick drink, then asks, "Vait, vait... did you say you know how to cook!?"

He looks a little surprised, and nods. "Y-yes, somewhat. In the Logisium I ended up having to cook for my dormitory unit." He rolls his eyes. "Ten men and women from all corners of the 'Verse and I was the only one who could make even a decent meat pie."

Solbiort's eyes brighten this time as she beams at the smaller man. "You can really cook?!" She throws her arms around him in a tight, exuberant hug, "Vunderbahr! You are velcome on ship! Ve go shopping for vhatever you vant to cook before ve return!"

Kali 'yikes!" softly as Solbiort embraces him, and looks even more nervous. "I... ah.. thank you, captain..."

Solbiort is still beaming as she sits back, carefully checking to make sure she hasn't damaged or rumpled him excessively.

Solbiort pats him on the shoulder, "Very good, ya. So, eat your lunch and then ve go shopping."

The two eat and chat for a little while more, amidst the increasingly crowded bar. Seems that a large transport's crew was on a different world's time and for them it's mid-evening -- perfect drinking time. It's while the two are just finishing off their stew, when a huge, burly, ale-on-the-breath spacer staggers over to the table, leaning down against it, and leers. "Well, hey there, cutie," he growls out.

... to Kali.

Solbiort looks up curiously, then realizes the spacer is interested in the pretty professor. She considers a moment... ordinarily she'd tell the amorous boy to come back later, but there might not be a later available for him... so... she'll be nice. Kali might like some time alone before heading for the ship, after all. She grins, continuing eating her lunch and watching interestedly to see how Kali responds.

Kali looks startledly up at the man. "Ahh... er..." He glances to Solbiort. "I'm.. sorry, I don't... I mean, I'm not, not really looking, right now, thanks...."

Solbiort nods reassuringly, "Is all right, professor, if you vant some time alone before talking to my first mate. Finish your ale first, though -- be a shame to vaste it."

He blinks at Solbiort as the spacer leers a bit wider. "Ah, actually, no, that's.. I mean, I'd like to talk to him soonest, or as soon as you would permit, honest!"

Solbiort looks a bit confused, waving a hand towards the spacer, "You... are not interested in him, then?"

Solbiort amends for clarity, "Not interested in sex vith him?"

Kali blinks again. "Did I give that impression?" He looks up to the spacer, looking fairly intimidated. "Ah... as, er, flattered as I am, I'm afraid I'm not interested."

The spacer pats -- heavily -- Kali's shoulder. "Shure you are, be jus' a bit of fun, donchathink? She's totally right."

Solbiort huhs thoughtfully. Was it she who misunderstood? She'd thought it pretty clear the spacer was interested in sex...?

Solbiort ponders... this is a difficult situation. She knows from Elgyn that Alliance boys are really touchy about their independence, and don't like her helping out. So... the spacer isn't her worry, and the professor hasn't asked for help... so she guesses he's not her worry either... maybe?

Kali squirms -- or tries to -- out from under the patting. "No, really, I'm not interested! Captain...?"

Solbiort watches intently, trying to figure out whether she should intervene or not.

Solbiort says, "Ya?" She hesitates, then says carefully, "Ah... am not sure vhat vould be correct behavior here, professor. Vould you be offended if I intervene?"

The spacer is persistent, though, chuckling softly. "Look, *hic* yer friend said you had time, couldn't be any bit o' problem now, would it?"

The spacer goes 'Eh?' in confusion at Solbiort's question, while Kali says, "Please, Captain? I don't... I don't know how to dissuade him."

Solbiort grins cheerfully at Kali, relieved to have a clear idea of how to behave correctly. She stands, lightly stroking that pretty hair once, then grins up at the spacer, "Shuh muh, boy, he's vith me!"

The spacer looks a bit crestfallen. "Aw, pleesh? I'm not gunna hurt 'im." He leers a bit at Kali, who appears to be doing his best to become One With The Chair.

Solbiort keeps one hand on Kali and grins almost eagerly, quite willing to get into a fight if the spacer wishes, "Neh, he's mine now."

The spacer pauses, then beams. "*hic* You can come, too, if you want!" and leers.

Kali pauses at that, then murmurs, "Ren-ci de Fozu, qing baoyou wo-men...."

Solbiort grins down at Kali as the slender man murmurs a request to Buddha to protect them, "Neh, I vill be doing your protection tonight, but sheh-sheh for the thought!" She looks back at the spacer and shakes her head firmly, "Neh, shuh-muh. Ve go now. Have good day, ya?" She easily pulls Kali to his feet, "Get your stuff, pretty -- have finished lunch und ve go now."

Kali gulps, and nods shakily, the expression on his face saying, 'We just might get out of this,' as he picks up his satchel and bedroll.

Solbiort has the pretty professor walk ahead of her as they leave. She doesn't think the spacer is anything but drunkenly amorous, but there's no need to be incautious.

The two manage to get out without further incident, leaving the drunken spacer behind. Outside, Kali sags a little, shoulders drooping. "Thank you, captain," he says quietly. "I don't know why he came on to me so strongly."

Solbiort looks curiously at the professor, "He think you pretty, of course. So, tell truth now, please... you actually vant to be under my protection, or that vas just because you not vant to get mussed up?" She huhs softly, gently taking the professor's chin in her hands and tilting his head back so she can curiously regard his face, "You are very pale, pretty. Vhat is vrong? Feel ill or something?"

Kali blinks up at Solbiort, apparently a bit speechless for a few moments. He quite quickly goes from pale to -- Solbiort realizes that he's blushing. "I...." He swallows. "Yes, Captain. I mean... I'm very far from Central, and... being on my own did not stand me in good stead on Midgaard or Ulundi."

Solbiort parses that slowly, then nods once, "Got it, I think -- you do vant my protection, und... no, don't got it. Vhat you mean you on your own did not stand, please?" She idly brushes his pretty bangs out of his face, adding, "Got lovely hair, pretty."

Kali ducks his head a little, smiling a little with the compliment. "Thank you, Captain. I..." He lets out a breath. "On Ulundi I thought I could travel between the tribes without problem. I was waylaid by outlaws twice before I got the hint to travel with a caravan or convoy. On Midgaard... I learned quickly that it would be better to not be seen without a bracelet, even and perhaps especially when... er, bathing."

Solbiort is silent for a moment -- then makes a small, choked sound. She doesn't want to hurt the poor boy's feelings, so she firmly squelches the urge to laugh, instead murmuring, "Oh, dear... please tell me pretty pretty like you didn't take off bracelets in front of valkyrior?!"

Kali errs, and looks really and truly sheepish. "It was only to take a bath," he murmurs uncomfortably.

Solbiort rolls her eyes as a chuckle escapes her, despite her best efforts. She releases her gentle hold on Kali's chin, patting him lightly on the shoulder, "Hokay, am hoping you learned your lesson vithout too much, er... vait, you are Alliance boy. Talk of sex is taboo for you or neh?"

Kali bobs his head. "Mmm. Yes, I did learn it. As for sex, no, it's not taboo. It's only not casually discussed among people one isn't friends with. Besides... I'm an anthropologist. I wouldn't get very far academically if I couldn't talk about sex."

Solbiort nods, "Hokay. Hm... vould be surprised if Skadisholt valkyrior hurt you. Probably just very enthusiastic, like I and my sisters in Freyasholt vould have been, ya?" She smiles a bit wistfully, running her fingers gently through that lovely shining hair, and adds, "Need not vorry here... ve are not on Midgaard, und I know you are chust vanting not to be hurt, ya?"

Kali doesn't move away from the running of fingers through his hair, and smiles up to Solbiort. "I won't worry, no. Thank you, captain."

Solbiort stands still, studying the slender professor thoughtfully for a long moment. Then she sighs quietly, making a mental note to get into another fight soon to work off her energy again. Amusedly she thinks, Sometimes being a good valkyrie can be a real pain in the butt! She casually takes his satchel again and shoulders it, putting her other arm around the professor's shoulders, "All right, pretty, got some shopping to do before ve return to ship. Vonce ve are there, vill show you room you can use vhile here if you vant. Vill introduce you to Elgyn too." She grins down at the pretty man, her emerald eyes gleaming mischievously as she adds, "If you can cook too, vill be very popular on Chimera, believe me!"

Solbiort heads deeper into the town, striding swiftly along as she talks to the young professor, "So, my first mate is Ulundian, and I need to know about the ritual of adulthood for boys on Ulundi. You tell me about this, please?"

Kali nods, thinking deeply as he lightly curls a lock of his hair about his finger. "Mmm. Certainly, Captain. You probably already know that the Ulundi culture is militantly meritocratic, one of the few that are intrinsically such in the 'Verse, as opposed to having a military subculture...." He explains the ritual in detail, though he only fumbles over a few words when Solbiort turns at an angle just so, lending him a view of her loosely tied vest.

Solbiort is, alas, clueless as to why he's occasionally stumbling verbally, but she nods encouragingly and listens intently. As they're walking along they come towards an intersection where the crossing street is much wider than the one they're on -- about 50 feet wide. A few people are on each side, chatting quietly or just standing together. As the captain and the professor stride swiftly towards the intersection, Solbiort hesitates a moment to politely speak to an older woman, referring to her as "Grandmother."

Kali just has time to register alarm in the suddenly raised voice of the old woman behind him, overlaid with the captain's voice going, "Whoa! You don't vant to do that!" -- and then suddenly his hair is sharply yanked! He yerks! -and tries to stop short, though he starts to loose his footing, beginning to topple backward.

Even as he yelps, he feels a strong arm around his waist, yanking him back and whirling him around dizzyingly. He ends up pressed tightly against Solbiort's front, one of her arms holding him strongly and firmly close, the other hand still tangled in his long hair. She's sturdily braced, giving him time to get his feet under him as she smiles good naturedly down at him. Kali blinks up at Solbiort's eyes, swallowing and a blush rising about his cheeks. "Ah... th-thank you, C-captain. What... what happened?"

There's a sudden Doppler effect of sound -- as something roars by blurringly fast -- no, several somethings! Their speed is such that the wind of their passing throws everyone's hair around, whips his greatcoat against his legs, and causes folks to hold onto their hats and bundles. Solbiort watches them go by, then looks back down at Kali and grins, her emerald gaze amused, "Didn't think you vere qvite ready to end it there, ya?"

Kali almost staggers against Solbiort, gaping at the sudden rush of... things past them. "Good heavens!" he exclaims. "What... what were those?"

The old woman cackles (not unkindly), and calls, "Nice catch there, dearie!" Off to one side, behind Solbiort, Kali can see a slender, dark-haired young man with a sardonic expression regarding him. When he notices Kali looking at him, the young man sneers, then turns and lopes away.

Kali blinks, wondering why the man looked so disapproving. Then he lets out a breath, just thankful he's in one piece, and starts to try to straighten himself, though he finds he's holding on to Solbiort. A pause... and he realizes that in his collapse he braced himself, and his hand is now at about shoulder-height... and with Solbiort being about as tall as she is... he goes a bit pale and slowly looks at where his hand is... then removes it from her bosom almost as fast as he can. "Ack! I'm s-sorry, Captain, I didn't mean...!"

Solbiort chuckles quietly, releasing the young professor, "End of vork veek, the local toughs alvays hold vehicular races. Have been told it has something to do vith their manhoods. Vhat you not mean?" She loops an arm around his shoulders again, crossing the street, "Come, ve are almost there." Kali can see the warning signals being changed, and he notices the locals all streaming casually across the road, now it's safe to cross.

Kali lets out a breath, and lets Solbiort shepherd him across. "I'm... sorry, Captain, I realized I was grabbing your... chest when you pulled me back. It's considered... rather untoward contact in some circles."

Solbiort glances down at him, then smiles, "Is not taboo for my home. Not like you grabbed sexual organ, after all. That I might smack you for." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then pauses and turns him to face her, taking a moment to lightly brush his disheveled hair back. Once she's done she considers him a moment, then smiles again, "You're very swai, ya. You all right, though? Keep flushing... is coat too much for you in this heat?" She slowly and gently brushes the backs of her fingers against his cheek, her emerald eyes studying him intently.

He blushes again, smiling shyly. "N-no, captain. I'm not overheating, honest, I'm fine. My office at the Logisium is on a mountain, so this is just slightly chilly for me...."

Solbiort nods slowly and thoughtfully... then nods firmly once, "Very vell, then. Onvards." She turns and heads briskly off with him in tow again. Kali blinks, a little startled at the sudden loss of those vibrant eyes in his sight, then moves to keep up with her.

Solbiort pauses finally in front of a row of storefronts, eyeing them dubiously. This is clearly not a good part of town, and she looks around, then gives the professor a thoughtful look. There's hardly anyone around, though, so she says finally, "Vait, here, ya? Not sure exactly vhich it is, so vill be a moment."

Solbiort leaves Kali on the elevated wooden walkway in front of the stores, next to the dusty dirt road. A tired horse tied to a hitching post gives Kali an uninterested glance, then goes back to standing hipshot, its tail occasionally lazily switching. This part of town is quiet as twilight comes on, the faint sound of buzzing flies all Kali hears close by. Further in the distance there's the occasional roar of the racing engines he saw earlier... and voices, coming closer.

Kali opens his mouth to ask 'What are we doing here?' but she's gone before he can get the question out. He glances around at the voices, and leans against the doorway, trying to melt into it in the hopes that nobody notices him or approaches him until the captain comes back.

Abruptly the approaching voices sound louder, and a small group of young men come around a corner, approaching. The leader is the dark-haired young man from the intersection, and he sees Kali and grins. It's not a friendly grin...

The young men come striding down the wooden sidewalk, filling it as they talk and argue loudly amongst each other. As they pass by Kali, the professor feels a sudden, sharp shove which knocks him into the middle of the group. One of the young men snaps, "Hey! That swell pushed me!" He's pointing at Kali, and as others are pushed by the off-balance professor trying to regain his balance, they also growl and push back, until the professor is knocked roughly out into the street. The young men follow, surrounding the professor in a loose circle. Their expressions are a disturbing mix of anticipation, anger, and malice.

Kali oof!s as he lands onto the street. This is not good, not good at all.... He tries to roll onto his back, pushing himself up. "If... if I jostled you, sir, it was an accident." Oh, right, like that's going to go over well. You already can tell the signs: tribal, aggressively adolescent, what was it mei-mei put it as? Oh, right: "testosterone poisoning." Apologizing just gets them more into their own little zone...

The dark-haired young man steps up as Kali starts to rise, jabbing a finger sharply into the professor's chest, "Whassamatter, aristo swell? You think you're too good for us here? You think just 'cause you got off-world plat you can throw your weight around here? You think you own us, toff?!"

The other young men mutter and growl, eyeing Kali with disturbingly predatory eyes. From his perspective on the ground, he can see clenched fists, scuffed and steel-toed workboots, and a circle of darkly unfriendly faces. One of them yells, "Pay a toll!" and the others take up the chant, "Pay! Pay! Pay!" The dark-haired young man smiles coldly down at Kali, putting his boot on Kali's hand and deliberately leaning forward as he snarls, "Guess my friends think you owe us something for our time in teaching you a lesson, little man."

Kali winces at the foot crushing his hand. "Not... aristocracy... just... a teacher...."

Kali hears a sudden angry bellow from behind the group of young toughs, and several of them straighten and turn, startlement on their faces. The dark-haired young man hastily turns as well, fortunately removing his boot from Kali's hand.

A moment later Solbiort steps through the group, her face like thunder. In the sudden silence she studies the situation, her eyes narrowed... then deliberately paces over, her boots crunching slightly in the quiet, to stand directly over Kali. She puts her hands on her hips, facing the dark-haired young man, "Go play vith other tourist. This von is mine."

From this angle it's impossible to not take in Solbiort's pose with some measure of awe. Kali is literally too stunned at the sight -- and relieved -- to have any thought less pure than that. One second later, he glances at the young man and realizes some "local color" might just be about to ensue.

The much shorter young man matches Solbiort's pose, widening his stance and putting his hands on his hips as well, "Who're you t-gak!" His words are cut off without warning as Solbiort's hand shoots out startlingly fast, catching him by the throat -- and effortlessly tossing him backwards into the crowd of young men behind him!

Several of them are knocked down as well, and the dark-haired young man chokes and wheezes for a moment. There are some muffled exclamations and muttering from the others -- until Solbiort turns and roars, "GO!" at them. That causes them to break and scatter, the fallen scrambling to their feet and taking to their heels as well.

Soon the street is empty save for a few silently watching folk in the buildings -- none of whom seem particularly broken-hearted at seeing the young toughs routed. Solbiort crouches, still standing over Kali, and growls, "You hokay, pretty?" Her gaze darts back and forth as she speaks, watching for further attack.

Kali lets out a breath. Thank Buddha! "I... I think so, Captain." He shakes his hand a little, looking at it worriedly. Noting seems broken there. He looks up at her, taking in more of her, and finds himself blushing again. "Th-thank you again, Captain...

Solbiort nods grimly once, then scoops him easily up and stands, holding him carefully in her arms. She turns, heading swiftly into the building, setting him gently on a counter. A man in an apron grins, "For that bit of entertainment, captain, I'll add another 5% off!" She snaps, "Done. Send it to the Crimson Chimera, dock 47B," but her attention is disconcertingly focused -- on Kali. She calmly strips off his bedroll and greatcoat, ignoring any objections, so she can carefully run her hands over him, checking for damage.

Kali blinks and opens his mouth to object, but only gets out a stammered, "H-hey! I mean, what...?" Beyond that, he submits without much fidgeting to the examination.

Solbiort finally finishes, still holding his scratched hand. She stares directly into his eyes from only inches away, her own eyes dark with concern, "Hokay. Vhat happen out there? You do anything to provoke them?" Scarlet wisps of her hair drift across her face, momentarily hiding one eye.

Kali can't help but be entranced by those eyes, and the contrast of skin and hair. "I... no, nothing.... I saw him before, when you... when you saved me from being run over..."

Solbiort sighs softly, relaxing somewhat, "Ya, thought that might be it." She raises her free hand to his face, gently cupping his cheek and tilting his face back to regard him thoughtfully, "Think you are bit too pretty for your own good to be out alone in Border Moons." Her thumb runs gently across his lower lip as she studies him. She murmurs, "You got vife at home on Boros?" She's leaning against the counter he's sitting on, standing between his knees, and close enough he can feel the warmth of her body and smell the scent of the leather vest she's wearing.

Kali swallows, feeling like his heart is pounding even harder. Get a grip of yourself, Alex! his inner voice rebukes him. You're an anthropologist, for Buddha's sake, and she's a Midgaardan valkyrior. He ignores it for now, though, half-closing his eyes at the touch. "I... no, Captain. I'm not married or handfasted."

Solbiort is standing very still, her hand warm on his face and the jade of her bracelet a smooth touch against his throat as she rumbles throatily, "Goot... then you really be all mine for chust a little bit, ya?" Gently, Kali feels the soft, exploratory brush of lips against his own.

Kali is surprised by the kiss, and for only a moment considers pulling away... but only a moment. He sighs softly into the kiss, returning it as his eyes close and he lets himself surrender to the valkyrie's embrace. Solbiort needs no further encouragement, and a moment later Kali is wound securely up in her arms, the fingers of one hand tangled in his lovely long hair and holding his head firmly close, the other well-muscled arm pressing him tightly against her strong torso. The shopkeeper has to cough pointedly several times before Solbiort comes up for air, her eyes smoky with desire. She doesn't release Kali, simply grinning unrepentantly at the shopkeeper, then looking back down at the young man in her arms. Huskily she says, "We go to ship now."

A short while later Solbiort is swiftly escorting Kali into the Chimera, one strong arm about his waist snugging him close. She smiles down at him, her eyes still very smoky looking as she opens a hatchway, "Can use this bunk vhile here." Kali sees a small room that's obviously originally intended for crew's quarters: neat, snug, and clean, containing not much more than a bed, a desk, a chair, a cleaning cubicle, and several hatches for storage. Solbiort murmurs, "Be right back," leaving Kali alone in the room.

Kali takes in a deep breath while Solbiort is away, sitting on the edge of the bed. He runs a hand over his face; how did this happen? Well, all right, it started easy enough -- so few Ulundi travel the 'Verse that he leaped at the chance to talk to one directly, and he had guessed the captain's name was Midgaardian, and how often did one see such a one off of Midgaard? He certainly hadn't expected to be rescued by her two or three times... let alone fall so suddenly for her.

Solbiort steps back through the hatchway, a small bag in one hand. She sets it down on the desk, then closes the hatchway firmly behind her. Once that's done, she turns the desk chair so she can comfortably sit and watch Kali. She smiles slowly, her emerald gaze studying the young man with (possibly) disconcerting directness. "Is hokay?"

Kali blinks, looking up at Solbiort, and swallows, then nods. "Y-yes, it's... it's great, thank you. I... I had no idea where I would be sleeping tonight."

Solbiort smiles, rising to pace slowly towards Kali. It's... a bit like watching a large predator approach -- and then she's standing over him, lightly brushing his hair back out of his face, her pale fingers trailing very softly along his cheek as she studies his face... perhaps a bit hungrily. She sighs with pleasure, smiling, then settles next to him and draws him close. Her last words are a quietly purred, "Problem solved, then."

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Last modified: 2006-Mar-04 21:02:19

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