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Reality Fault

Realms: Hunter Logs

Part Fifteen: A Peal Of Distant Thunder

Scarlet Chimera
Approaching Persephone, moon of Naga, Osterfrau Quadrant

The handful of hours to go from deep orbit around Naga to Persephone are rather tense. The news that one of the greatest Browncoat heroes was not only a sham, but a lie built up by a secretive Alliance project, has varying effects on the crew. Molly, for her part, has not taken the news well, and looks torn between shellshock and raging fury. She tries her best to maintain a calm, professional disposition, but every once in a while a hint of her emotions is visible in her eyes.

Approaching Persephone, the crew finds their reputation precedes them again, with various port and Alliance officers on hand to congratulate them on helping the Curry survive the "terrorist attack" with little more than fancy maneuvering. The excitement is fairly short-lived though, and soon enough the gangway is cleared of officials and journalists, and the ship is left alone, with the crew together in the cargo hold.

Solbiort whews, settling heavily on a crate. "Vell, ve made it, safe und sound. Let's get these cargoes taken care of, get some new cargo for Boros, und head off und avay again. Vant to stay ahead of Far Thunder." She looks around, then grins ruefully at Elgyn, "At least Xi Reilly didn't turn up, ya? That vould haf been truly annoying." She adds quietly, "Everyvon, might vant to be sure you go vith partners anyvhere on planet, please. Don't know if Far Thunder has more folks in place."

Elgyn is slightly less shellshocked... after all, the cause always meant more to him than the individual people. But it does only add to the anger that's been storing up inside him for a while now, since they started first getting an inkling of what was going on. "I don't know. I could have used the target practice," he says a little more forcefully than he originally intended.

Solbiort looks quietly at Elgyn, not replying to his comment... then she turns and heads back towards the bridge, "I'll take first vatch. Call if you need me. Take care, all."

Elgyn looks at Nigel. "If you don't have to leave the ship, don't... if you do, I or Raj goes with you, hmm?" He glances over at Molly... he can see she's barely hanging on. He doesn't want to send her out.

Nigel arches a brow at Elgyn, "Oh, yeah, I'm going to go out there. I'm probably the next most recognizable person on this damn boat." Solbiort chuckles as she ducks through the hatchway.

Elgyn smiles almost fondly at Nigel. "Well, I have to assume they have the goods on all of us now, Doctor... besides, you're the Doc. I don't want you critiquing my suturing if you get hurt."

Molly takes in a bit of a breath, then nods, standing. "I'll... get started on the galley inventory," she says, and heads up the ladder-well to the top deck.

Elgyn glances at Raj. "Any damage to the cargo during that little firefight?"

Raj says, "Damage to the cargo? Not that I can see. I tried to make sure everything was locked down. If we're done with the 'visiting firemen' we may want to put the walking wounded back in the medbay, though."

Elgyn nods perfunctorily. "I'll help Nigel with putting back our guests, then. Raj, give me a holler when you need help with cargo," he offers a tight smile, "or if, you know, someone needs shooting a bit."

The cargoes are offloaded without any fuss; the cargo reps are mostly just pleased to have seen the cargo land safely without any damage from the fighting. The contact for the textiles, one Anying Shangyu, is quite grateful for the safe and quick delivery, and as a bonus presents Raj with... a goat and a trio of chickens -- which she is quite pleased to have already delivered herself to the dock. The goat eyes Raj with something bordering on barely-contained luciferian malice. Raj graciously accepts the... livestock... and ties them to something in the bay outside the ship.

Elgyn stares at the 'gift.' "You're cleaning up after them," he informs Raj. "As I once told the Captain, animal handling is not my specialty." As it's being tied up, the goat attempts to nip Raj -- though at the time it seems less a 'nip' and more of a 'tear his arm out at the socket.'

Later, Raj raps on the doorframe to the bridge, "Captain, I understand you'd like to pick up something dockside. It might be a good idea if we combined that trip with a first pass visiting the shipping agents."

Solbiort glances over her shoulder, "Hey? Ah, sure -- happy to come." She finishes her last check of the boards, then comms Elgyn. She explains Raj has asked her to accompany him, so Elgyn should send up whoever is next for standing watch. That would be Molly, who reports calmly and professionally, after having had some time to cool down. Solbiort adds to Raj, "Need to pick up receipts for schtuff, then ready to go." She nods to Molly, then heads out with Raj in the mule.

As Solbiort and Raj go to scare up some cargo, Nigel is in medbay checking up on his charges and Elgyn is... pacing. Around the entire ship, like a caged animal... part of him wants to go out, find Reilly, and sock his lights out. He knows it's an irrational anger, and it would be an incredibly stupid thing to do for more than one reason.

Elgyn is getting a whole lot of mileage off his pacing, so he makes work for himself... checking to make sure the cameras are all working, for one, and all the hatches are sealed. "I should have paid more attention to Illia," he grunts, referring to one of his sonia who taught him the art of tracking. "I mean, certainly her traps were far more primitive in comparison to what's 'out there,' but it might contribute a little to the security of this ship." He sighs, coming to a stop close to the bridge, leaning against a wall. "I am a warrior with no enemy to fight," he mutters.

From within the Bridge there comes in answer to Elgyn's bemoanment: "Better than being a warrior whose enemy was nothing more than a lie."

Elgyn blinks and suddenly realizes where he is, and that Molly is nearby. He comes around the corner and looks into the bridge. "Not everything was a lie, Molly," he says softly. "Wintarsen wasn't the reason we fought. Maybe it does take some of the shine off, knowing what we know now. But I came and I fought because I believed in the cause." He ducks his head a little. "And, well, partly because I was young and showing off."

Molly is attentive and alert as she keeps an eye on all the cameras and the view outside the ship. "My pa and aunt believed too, Elgyn, enough to go off and try to join him. But it was all a trap, I guess."

Elgyn is rendered momentarily speechless for a moment... he had not considered that. More than just Wintarsen being a stalking horse, it meant that not only any who served with him, but any that were inspired to the cause because of his example... they were all living on borrowed time, because Far Thunder -- and therefore the Alliance -- always knew where they were. He has to swallow the bile riding in his throat. "And we're going to make them pay, Molly," he promises firmly. "These folks declared war on us... which makes them fair game."

Molly lets out a breath. "All of them?" she asks quietly.

Elgyn squeezes Molly's shoulder. "All of them," he says in an almost reverent breath. "If you like, I'll even let you use my krisara on some of them." His expression darkens. "Or not. I'm not sure they deserve such a worthy death."

Molly glances back to Elgyn with a wan smile. "By 'all' of them I meant the Alliance, Elgyn. I know they're not all to blame for it... but they still won because of it." She makes a disgruntled sound. "They'd probably have won anyway, Wintarsen or not."

Elgyn purses his lips. "Sometimes I wonder... when I go home, and I will go home, if I will discover I hate the Alliance more than I do now. After the war, when I first came to serve the Captain, the Alliance soldiers by and large treated me with respect. It only reinforced my belief that one should not hate the enemy soldiers when the fighting is done... one should not despise them for acts committed during war." He sits next to her then. "That does not necessarily hold for the generals, the Alliance sonia -- leaders -- but I saw nothing in the years since that made me think they were particularly evil, aside from their desire to 'possess it all,' as it were." He looks at Molly. "Even now, this Far Thunder... it would seem to be just a small group. But should I hate the Alliance more because they sanctioned these people? Will I hate them more if I find they've taken advantage of my people?"

Molly lets out a breath. "No, they're not all evil. Ashtoreth is better off now as part of the Alliance... so what the shiny Hell were we fighting for then, Elgyn?"

Elgyn smiles. "If nothing else, Molly, we are fighting for our lives. And we are fighting for the life of one man who did not deserve to be a cats-paw. Regardless of what happened with Wintarsen... he was not knowingly a traitor. Someone should speak for him. Someone should fight for him."

Molly sighs and nods. "I know, Elgyn, it's just... I don't know what pa and his sister died for, you know? I don't know what I was willing to get bound by law over." Elgyn gets it now. It didn't hit him so hard, but Wintarsen figured far more into the life of her and her family. He doesn't know the answer to that, but he brings his hand down and squeezes hers in what he hopes in a comforting and reassuring manner.

Molly sighs a little as Elgyn squeezes her hand, then straightens, focusing a bit more. "Ah... I should pay attention to the cameras more," she says a little lamely. She flashes Elgyn a brief, wan smile. "Thanks, Elgyn. I'll... I'll try to keep the faith that what we did was right."

Elgyn nods. "We're all feeling a little discombobulated, shieldsister. But we're also all here for each other... even Captain, no matter how she growls at you about the cooking." He stands and pats her shoulder again. "And if you want to talk... I am always available to you, Molly." She reaches up to gently squeeze Elgyn's hand again before turning her attention back to the cameras.

Elgyn smiles. "What you did was right. Don't let these guay toh guay nown make you doubt your own motivations," he growls. "And remember that their betrayal will be punished."

Molly nods slowly, closing her eyes briefly. "If that's the most I can hope for... then I'll hope for that." She pauses. "Part of me... I know it's irrational, I know he doesn't deserve it, but I know a lot of people are going to feel that way... part of me is hating Wintarsen right now, even though I know it's stupid and if anything he's a worse-off victim than anyone else in the war."


Meanwhile, in Chimera's med bay, as Nigel is checking the readouts over his patients, there is a faint voice from Wintarsen's bunk: "You... you remind me of a doctor I once knew, Doctor...."

Nigel pauses in his reading and fidgeting to snort. "Then I'm sorry for you," he replies to the old man, though there is some humor in his tone.

Wintarsen laughs softly, slowly wagging a finger at him. "I'll have to remember that. If anything could make Doctor Olsen laugh, that would be it."

Nigel is smirking a bit himself, still checking numbers and making notes of them, "Why'd you get under his care? Couldn't be anything near as gorram stupid as what put you under my hand."

Wintarsen chuckles softly, closing his eyes. "Just before the war I got my leg caught by a combine on Hera. Was a damn fool for not watching where I was going. I was lucky, though -- didn't loose much more than some skin and muscle. It was Olsen who put me back together, and he didn't let me forget about how it happened for a minute while I was in bed."

Nigel snorts and half-perches on the edge of Wintarsen's bed, arms crossed over his chest, "And a smart man he was not to. Take care of people; get them better -- yes. Tell them it could happen to anyone when what we mean is 'anyone that wasn't a frelling idiot,' no. Tell it straight and people are less likely to do the same stupid thing again."

Wintarsen gives a brief laugh. "It worked for me. I stayed damn far away from combines after that." He frowns a little bit. "I think... mph. Yeah. Yeah, I stayed far and away from them."

Nigel's smirk falters a bit as the old man has to work to think about something so simple, "Well, after this one maybe you'll stay far and away from people trying to be high an' mighty with other folks' lives."

Wintarsen smiles a bit. "I think my generaling days are done, Doctor. So no worries there. But I'll be damned if I'm going to go into farming. Unless it's with ox and plow."

Nigel chuckles a bit, "That's not impossible, you know. Lot of these border moons you don't got tractors on every homestead. You got a man with a horse or an ox or donkey and a plow... or hell, a real strong eldest son and a plow."

Wintarsen chuckles softly. "I'm a bit old to be spawning, Doc. Ai ya... but it's enough, I imagine. Don't wanna fight no more, don't wanna think no more...."

Nigel shakes his head, "Oh, no way in ruttin' hell you want to stop thinkin'. I were you, I'd be doing a whole helluva lot more thinkin' to tell the truth. After all, it's the first time in a long time you've had your mind to yourself."

Wintarsen grimaces, rubbing his forehead "Hard to think," he mutters. "Too many events... can't tell which one is which."

Nigel tips his head and chews thoughtfully on his lip for a moment before asking, "Which one do you want to be true?"

Wintarsen groans, wincing again. "The... the ones where I knew what the hell was going on..."

Nigel says, "Where you knew then or you know now?"

Wintarsen opens his mouth... then blinks and visibly thinks about that, "...the hell, Doctor?!" He shakes his head, a ghost of a grin. "Sorry... couldn't resist. Um... let me... let me th-think about that." The idea of thinking does seem to give him pause, though. Nigel sits back and watches the ex-general ponder.

Wintarsen rubs his forehead, taking in slow, deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Doctor," he says slowly. "Sometimes I'm some hot-shit general, sometimes I'm just a hack general, and I'm not sure I really remember which is which...."

Nigel shakes his head, "No, what you are all the time is a man who got himself chewed up and spit out again while trying to do what he thought was right. And who was doing a damn good job before someone tried to edit the ruttin' history books."

Wintarsen looks to Nigel as he speaks, nodding slowly and letting out a breath. "And the... the memories? I was at the Battle of Tian Mi Ann Shoal... and I wasn't...."

Nigel shrugs, "Stuff it. Those are facts; what you're looking for is truth. Truth ain't always in the ruttin' facts, grandpa."

Wintarsen glances to Nigel and nods, closing his eyes. "'For it is in the reconciliation of truth, even in digression from fact, that there is healing. The wound must be healed before the skin can again withstand the prickly thorns of truth....'" It sounds like another quote, probably from the fictional book that had empty pages.

Nigel has to snort, "Is that from the make-believe book? Oh, hell, doesn't matter. That's truth. That line. Whether or not the book existed doesn't matter. That idea right there. That's true."

Wintarsen opens his eyes again. "Eh? Oh... I guess it was, at that..."

Nigel nods, "See, you're going to know the truth, no matter what the facts tell you."

Wintarsen nods slowly. "I... I think I understand what you mean, Doctor." He grins weakly. "Are you sure your last name isn't 'Olsen'?"

Nigel snorts, "Oh, I'm sure. I don't use it a lot, but it's definitely not Baird."

Wintarsen chuckles softly. "Well, you would do Olsen proud. Thank you for your patience with me -- with us," he adds, glancing over to Danviere's bed.

Nigel waves it off, "It's not patience; it's stubbornness."

Wintarsen says, "Even so, thank you." He pauses. "Do you have any... idea as to what is to happen next?"

Nigel says, "Some, but it wouldn't make any more sense to you than if you were to explain some complex military tactic to me. "

Wintarsen smiles a bit. "Probably not. I'll leave it in your hands, then." Nigel nods to the general as if to say 'I will...' and goes back to his monitors.


The first few legitimate cargo brokers that they check have no cargo for Solbiort and Raj; there simply isn't anything they have to ship, they say, even for a ship and crew who evaded pirates so skillfully. Even Solbiort's personality isn't enough to make them scare up cargoes for them, so maybe they're telling the truth. Thus the black market becomes the last resort, and they meet one potential contact in a bit of a dive. The man is a rather youthful, heavily accented fellow wearing a ratty bowler. He nods to the two. "Yeah, Ah think I've got some good cargo for ya t' haul to Boros." He grins, his teeth not entirely even. "An' it's even reason'bly legitimate, too. Got the inclination ta talk business?"

Raj says, "We're open to discussion. How 'reasonably legitimate' are we talking about here?" Solbiort sighs internally, and quietly orders a meal for her and Raj, and drinks for all three of them. She's not getting the best 'vibe' off this guy... but Raj is the expert here.

The man folds his hands together, leaning back in the chair. The dive is smoky and dim and has clearly not seen Alliance presence in many years. "Th' name's James Whalen, an' I've been lookin' to be startin' a good, honest business 'ere in Evesdown Docks. Now you both have the look of folk who've been 'round the black once or twice... an' that fancy flyin', 'nough ta impress the Purples, that's something a man with a cargo like I can use. It just so 'appens I've got a cargo to Boros I'm needin' delivered, an it'll make a shiny bit o' plat for all involved." He pauses to write out a number on a slip of paper, and slide it across the table. The sum on it is generous -- not a fortune, but definitely more than a typical legit cargo from Persephone to Boros would garner.

Raj glances at the note and says, "Well, that's interesting, but unless we're shipping sealed crates marked 'Farm Equipment,' we'll need to know just a bit more about what you want to put on board."

Whalen smiles a bit snaggletoothedly. "Ah, you've a right fine perception, my frien'!" he leans closer to the two, dropping his voice; he seems to have bathed recently, at least. Relatively. "Few years 'go, some fine shiny cuss got 'old of some pretty pretty art, statues of th' Buddha hisself which had made the crossing from Earth-That-Was. There were three o' them: one of white jade, one of black, and one -- now this one's th' prize -- one of silver jade."

Solbiort raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, continuing to eat her meal. Far as she knows, jade is a mineral and there is no metallic colored jade. Black jade, though, she knows, is quite rare.

Whalen continues: "'Course it's not truly silver. It's a transparent jade with high impurity content. 'Course the scientos' thinkin' of 'impure' is at odds wi' mine, since these 'impurities' are nothin' less than silver particulates. Bloody right rare, and gorram impossible to steal. 'Course this blighter did it, and made hisself a fortune in sellin' the white and black statues. The silver one, now... none found it 'fore the Alliance found 'im, and there was this great grand shootout."

Solbiort continues to listen silently, although her bullshit meters are all going off. She wonders idly if the alcohol has gone to this guy's head already. Raj leans back in the chair a bit and says, "Silver jade? Well, I'm not familiar with that, but if someone's found something and needs it shipped privately... discreetly, we might be in a position to be of some help. No certainty, to be sure, but we're willing to consider..."

Whalen smiles and nods, "I'll be askin' your discretion, o' course, and hope you'll understand that nothin' said betwixt us hits Purple ears." He stands and sets a small bag of plat on the table. "'Ave a fine repast on me, then, an' I'll be lookin' forward to hearin' from you." He straightens his tie -- lacking a collared shirt, it looks mildly ridiculous -- and with a tip of his bowler, ambles off into the crowd with his flunkies in tow.

Solbiort looks at the bag of plat, then gives Raj a dryly amused look. Raj waits for the "gentlemen" to leave, then says quietly, "I find it disturbing that a tradesman of his... caliber... would leave money on the table, real or figuratively."

Solbiort nods to Raj, "Don't know if we should accept it or not. What do you think?"

Raj carefully picks up the bag of coins and glances inside. "Enough for a decent tip, I suppose," and sighs, "His money seems good so far, but I don't know anything about this cargo or the story he's told us." He turns to Solbiort and says, "If this is the only real cargo available, can we not take it? Are you prepared to fly light to our next port? We'll need to decide quick, or he'll get antsy."

Solbiort frowns, studying her drink for a few moments... then sighs. She'd hoped perhaps her AllSec contacts could make something appear, but it looks like that was a wash... and they have to pay for the ship to fly. She looks at Raj a touch grimly, "If he's it, and you're still willing to negotiate with him... let's do it."

As Solbiort and Raj are discussing Whalen's offer, some sort of mangy bear politely plows through the crowd in the dive, and with very little by-your-leave and with a faint grunt, lowers himself into the chair recently vacated. At this range it is only reasonably certain that he is not some sort of ursine, but rather a large man with huge bushy hair, beard, and brows. "Privet," he grumbles. Without a clear view of his face it's impossible to tell if he's smiling or snarling -- and with the gravelly tone of his voice it might well be both at the same time. "Am hearing are on way to Boros, da?"

Solbiort raises an eyebrow at the... individual, but once again remains silent so Raj can do the negotiating. Raj nods, "We are, and are soliciting trade going that way."

The man -- he's probably a man, hopefully -- grunts and reaches down to beside him, lifting up and setting heavily on the table what looks like a steel container not unlike the kind that small atomic fuel cells were carried in during the war. "Have cargo, will pay well, of course."

Solbiort eyes the steel container. If it really contains fuel cells, then they're basically 'beehive' lattices with monomolecular transuranics, sealed in amber. The big danger is opening the container, since that would pretty much irradiate the entire room they were in. Dryly she notes to herself, That's one way to make sure your secret delivery package isn't opened on the way!

Raj looks at the box on the table a long moment, then says, "OK. Is this what it looks like, and is there any particular reason you're letting this cargo in this fine drinking establishment instead of posting it somewhere more public?" Solbiort has another drink, and grins quietly at Raj's comment.

The man-bear looks around with almost comical conspiratorialness, then leans closer. "Have ten more like this one. Is the good stuff. Alliance rules... no permission. Get five years for carrying. But know someone buy it. Like that," and he tries to snap his fingers for emphasis. He gets it on the third try. Then he looks between the two. "Are not believing me, nyet?" He looks around again, and holds up a finger. "Wait. Will show." He starts to take the top off of the container.

Solbiort goes straight up in her chair and slaps a hand down on the man's, "Nyeh! You mad?!"

The man doesn't even flinch, instead looking up at Solbiort. "What?" Then he looks down at the container, up at Solbiort, over to Raj, back to the container, then to Solbiort -- then glances at the surrounding people who are taking an interest in the conversation. Then he completes the optical slalom by looking at Solbiort, and his face almost literally splits in a huge, Ooooooooooh! "Heh. Sorry. Atomic fuel cell cases. Unused, surplus." He drops his voice. "Best thing to ship foodstuffs in. Hermetic seal, temperature control. Keeps pelmeni fresh, not soggy." He winks.

Solbiort looks distinctly unamused, but seats herself again. "Hokay, vhat is, then?"

Raj blurts, "Oh! Meat dumplings! Are they frozen? Oh! OK!"

Solbiort gives Raj a faintly incredulous look, then looks back at the bear-man. Meat dumplings. Illegal meat dumplings. I'm the hottest pilot on this side of the Border Worlds, and I'm going to be flying illegal... meat... dumplings. I should hang my head in shame. She grins at herself.

Raj laughs and says, "If these are really pelmeni I don't see any problem with taking them at all! How many of these things do you have?"

The man finishes opening the container, and from it comes a really incredibly meaty scent, along with a burst of steam. Removing the cover, he tilts the case forward for Solbiort and Raj to see. Within are... dumplings. Aromatic dumplings. He brightens at Raj. "Da! Pelmeni! Ten containers, fifty in each! Real recipe from Urals on Earth-That-Was!" he insists, still with the conspirator's voice. "Half beef, third lamb, rest pork. Just like old country!" He sighs. "But Alliance not like it when 'luxury' foodstuffs are shipped. And cargoes sent to suspected Syndicate watched. Last four legit shipments sent to family on Boros were 'impounded' by magistrate. Bah! Magistrate not worth good pelmeni!"

Noticeably relived, Raj says, "Well, assuming we can agree on a price, I'm pretty sure we can get these past that nasty Magistrate -- he can get his own lunch, eh?" He sobers a moment, then says, "You realize one of these may have to get opened for inspection by the crew..." Solbiort leans forward to look, her expression rather incredulous... then she just grins, shakes her head, and sits back. Raj seems to think this is okay, so it's good to her too. She has to turn a laugh into a cough at that comment, though!

The man's bear face seems to part like the Red Sea, revealing an absolutely huge smile. "Hope they inspecting, then, tovarisch! Da, am sure Oleg will not mind!"

Solbiort brightens slightly, suddenly realizing this means there'll be at least one dinner Molly won't have massacr- uh, cooked! Raj raises an eyebrow, "Oleg? Oleg Rasmussen?"

The man blinks, then nods a little warily. "Da. Brother Oleg. Is seventh cousin, three times removed. Nyet, I do not know what that makes us, either."

Solbiort glances at Raj, wondering if this Oleg Rasmussen is brother to 'the Russian' woman mentioned by Five Dragons. She grins slightly into her beer mug -- small 'verse! Raj laughs and practically beams, "Oh! I'll be happy to deliver these! Oleg won't have any excuse to try one of his Ruski Nouveau recipes on me with real food around." He ponders a moment, then says, "If anybody sees these boxes, they're going to assume the same damn thing we did, which is bad. We've got to get them a paint job or something so they don't look like they're dangerous..." Solbiort snorts amusedly again.

The man blinks at Raj, then looks at the containers. "What? Dangerous? Atomic fuel cell canisters?"

Raj says, "Well, the canisters may not be dangerous, but when somebody walks into a room with a big bucket marked 'bait' and starts eating lunch out of it, they're going to assume he's a bit cracked. I don't want somebody swiping these, or impounding them because they think they are exactly what they appear to be, nu? Let's make them look different enough. I dunno -- get some labels that say 'ATOMIC PELMENI -- just like Mama Chernobyl used to make!' and put them on the side." Solbiort blinks, wryly wondering if it's safe to allow Raj in the Galley either!

The man looks at Raj, then goes "Ooooooh! Da, tovarisch! Heh! Am liking way you think!" He extends a hand to Raj, a hand which looks like it could probably comfortably hold Raj's head. "Eigor Constantinov Rasmussen!"

Raj shakes the man's hand and says, smiling, "Rajzendiranth Kyros Jaanson Daybreak. Folks call me Raj. I've known Oleg and Odessa for some time now, for what that's worth." Solbiort leans her chin on her fist and watches in fascination.

Eigor rumbles cheerfully, "Zdravstvujte!" He turns to Solbiort. "And you, lady?"

Solbiort grins, also holding out her hand, "Solbiort Villieldr Veledasdottir Anarraburthr Skialdmeyjar Valkyrie, Captain of ship you vill be shipping vith." She cheerfully adds, "Not lady, though."

Eigor shakes her hand. "Pozhalujsta, Kapitein. Vy ochen' krasivy," he murmurs politely and respectfully.

Solbiort glances at Raj amusedly, "Translate, please?"

Raj looks a bit puzzled, then says, "Not sure, somewhat like, 'Nice to meet you. Gee you're pretty,' but politely," and grins.

Solbiort raises an amused eyebrow at both men, then murmurs something courteously in Midgaardian. Then she cheerfully adds, "So! Ve get you drink too, ya, Eigor?"

Eigor shakes his head. "Nyet, but spasiba -- have soup kitchen to get back to. When will be wanting... heh, heheh... dangerous atomic dumplings to be delivered to dock?"


After some very brief haggling -- Eigor doesn't seem to want to wrangle too much from Raj and Solbiort -- the two retrieve Solbiort's belongings, including her flitter-wing, and return to the ship. They are welcomed by the animals: Solbiort is greeted with a polite bleat from the goat, while Raj gets the uncomfortable feeling that the goat is contemplating agonizing mayhem upon his person while he sleeps. Solbiort blinks curiously at the little array of beasts... then stops the mule and studies them from the driver's seat. "Huh. Somevon misplaced their animals...?" She murmurs thoughtfully, "Chicken is goot eating... don't know vhat other thing is, though?"

Raj looks from the goat to Solbiort, then back again, "Uh, a goat? Livestock? Bred for its pelt, milk, and meat?" At mention of 'meat,' Raj thinks -- he isn't sure -- that the goat is suddenly on its best behavior.

Solbiort looks interested, "Goot eating too? Looks like a young von." She looks around, "Vonder who they belong to?" She considers, then sighs, "Then again... vould be shame to have fresh meat burnt or turned into shell casings... hmm. Vonder if Elgyn know how to prepare?"

The goat bleats. Cutely. Solbiort slides out of the mule and paces over to study the curious looking (to her) animal. "Got veird eyes, zis gote thing." She straightens and turns, looking around again, wondering why someone would leave their livestock here. The goat finds sudden interest in grazing a little patch of grass nearby. Solbiort shrugs, then idly pats the goat and heads back to the mule. She'll drive it into Chimera and park. The goat bleats cheerfully, and keeps well clear of the mule as it trundles up the ramp.

Later that evening, both Eigor and Whalen show up to deliver their cargo. Whalen has three or four bruisers accompanying him, one of whom carries a single box. Eigor just has himself, carrying the ten canisters on his back and one under an arm, and looking like this is a light workout. He and Whalen seem to politely ignore each other.

Solbiort finds Whalen vaguely creepy, so asks Elgyn to maintain a discreet high watch in cargo. She also has both parties set their cargo down on opposite sides of the bay from each other. She wonders idly if Eigor would be interested in a goat. As far as she knows, Elgyn seems interested in the chickens, once they'd discovered the animals belonged (theoretically) to Raj.

Eigor and Whalen are both cheerful, but at least Eigor seems genuine. He sets the canisters -- oh so carefully! -- down on the cargo deck as indicated. Whalen does likewise, or at least has his flunky set the box down. With little further ado Whalen and his gang withdraw, leaving the crew, Eigor, eleven canisters of dumplings, a goat, three chickens... and the box.

Solbiort cheerfully welcomes Eigor, introduces him around... and asks him if he knows anything about cooking goats or chickens? Eigor brightens. "Oh, da, goat, yes!" At this, to Raj the goat looks shocked. "Quite tasty! Also good for keeping kitchen clean, will eat nearly anything" This, at least, the goat seems to find a much better prospect.

Solbiort looks a bit wistful, "Nozzing about cooking chickens? Hm." She waves Elgyn to come down, now the creepy guy has left, "Di-di, you still vant chickens?"

"Don't cook the chickens just yet!" Elgyn calls down, taking a moment to hoof over and then slide down the ladder, "They're worth much more for the eggs... I know how to handle that. I used to feed them and collect the eggs for Mother. We'll need some proper feed, though..."

Solbiort raises an eyebrow, then glances at Eigor again, "Hokay, different qvestion, I guess -- know vhere to find chicken foods?"

Elgyn looks around, musing at the cargo bay. "We'll also need some proper nests..."

Solbiort raises the other eyebrow, "Not in Cargo! Can go in spare cabin or somezing."

Eigor bobs his head. Solbiort starts to doubt he actually has a neck. "Da, is feed store in docks, down past tower."

Solbiort grins at the thought, then nods to Elgyn, "Gotta have it before ve take off, di-di, hokay?" She grins again, adding, "Und if they start stinking place up, they gonna be that night's meal, ya?"

Elgyn crouches, studying the goat with some curiosity... he hmms. "No milk... not that I've ever milked a goat before, but..."

Solbiort blinks a touch incredulously at the scene, "Ahh... you are vanting to adopt gote thing too, di-di? You sure this is vise?" She quietly nudges Raj -- while Elgyn examines the goat and checks with Eigor about where to purchase chicken feed -- and murmurs softly, "You vant to invite your friend to dinner?"

Raj murmurs back, "Are we having goat?"

Elgyn says, "Well, I don't know about 'adopt'...just pondering if it could serve some purpose other than food..." He barks a laugh. "Could help get rid of Molly's mistakes, maybe!"

Solbiort studies Elgyn and the goat, then grins ruefully at Raj, "Am thinking not, Raj -- Elgyn seems to have taken shine to it?" In a more normal tone of voice she says to Elgyn, "True, but then vhat ve eat?"

Elgyn grins wryly at Solbiort. "Good point. It's just it's been a long time since I've slaughtered and skinned livestock... not sure if I remember how."

Solbiort frowns thoughtfully at the goat, "Only seen it, myself, und never vith goat. Otumlas is all-day affair." She considers, then looks a bit hopefully at Eigor again, "Don't suppose you know how?"

Eigor nods again, "Oh, da, is simple!" Throughout this conversation the goat has been steadily, if casually, edging away.

Solbiort grins at Raj, "Ya, having goat!" then turns back to Eigor, "Excellent! You can maybe show Elgyn how, und ve have goat tonight for dinner? Vould be velcome to stay if you vanted?" At Solbiort's proclamation, the goat looks miserably resigned. Perhaps in its next life.

Elgyn grins. "If he can help us out, then I'd say he's earned a chance to partake of the fruits of his labor."

Solbiort will leave the goat-preparers to their business outside the ship, and ask Nigel if he has a moment? She's been wondering if the theoretical 'author' of the fictitious book The Third Way is safe, or dead at the hands of Far Thunder. Would Nigel be willing to try a hacker's search on the Cortex to see if he can find some trace of her current whereabouts? Nigel agrees to do his best on the search. Solbiort thanks him and, while Eigor is still outside, she and Nigel neatly tuck the box of jade Buddhas away in the hidden compartment.

After assisting Eigor with the goat, as well as picking up some additional information and suggestions on how to deal with the chickens, Elgyn sets about acquiring proper nesting boxes and padding to make his new 'rations providers' comfortable. He seems quite happy in his work, and decides to make a point of trying to learn more about handling livestock. This could increase potential cargo opportunities if he can increase his skills in that area...

Once everything's taken care of, Solbiort heads for the bridge to checking her secure mailboxes before dinner. First the one for Security, since she has some very important information for them (she hopes), and also because she's really hoping they'll accept Elsa Saladin. She carefully bundles the recording of the entire conversation with the Tsao's Commander Kota, wrapping it in a strongly worded "EYES ONLY: CMNDNT/ADARRA SECDIR" message. Included with that is her suggestion to use Shadow as the possible ambush point. Solbiort figures that's precisely the symbolic type of place Far Thunder would want for an embarrassing martyrdom... so if the Alliance gets there first they could make a mess of Far Thunder's plans, finishing the reprehensible group off once and for all. After that she checks for any messages left for her.

The only message present is a request for an update from Adarra routed through Naga's directorate. A few hours after she posts the message she gets a routine reply saying it was delivered to Adarra's directorate, and a message from the Colonel acknowledging receipt and requesting time to digest this information. As an addendum, Solbiort is also forwarded an order from Adarra's directorate, instructing the Boros mission to accept Saladin into protective custody. Solbiort gives a small sigh of relief. She'll have good news, as well as a nice fresh-meat dinner, for Saladin tonight.

Nigel's research brings up some old, archived news records; a very brief article noting Orinel stopped by at Naga on her way out to the deeper Fringe; and that that was a few weeks before she finally and fully disappeared. That's the most recent mention in the public Cortex that Nigel can find.

Nigel mentions to Solbiort that if he can get to Newhall's local cortex he could likely get some more in-depth information, though it's out of the way a bit. Solbiort thanks Nigel for his scanning, then hmms thoughtfully. "Is there any vay to do that from here, di-di?"

Nigel shakes his head with an annoyed glower, "If I could get it locally, I already would have. I know it's a week out of the way, but it'd let me get deeper in this rat's nest."

Solbiort considers, then sighs and shakes her head, "Shuh-muh, di-di, but Newhall isn't even near vhere ve go. Cannot even sving by to give you chance to data-scoop."

Nigel shrugs, "Hey, we can try it later. I hope."

Solbiort nods a touch grimly, "Hope she is all right."

When she's finished with that she takes a moment for herself, stretching her arms and legs, and rolling her head a bit to loosen up. A few deep breaths... and then Solbiort accesses the drop box she shares with Five Dragons. She's both a bit eager, and a bit trepidatious. Did the Dragon Lady like the haiku, or not? Will she have replied? Will there be approval, or a polite dismissal, or something wonderful and unexpected? First she'll send the poetry she composed during the flight to Persephone, crossing her fingers that it will continue to 'speak' to the lovely lady. She has two pieces this time -- another haiku, and a short verse modeled on a slightly more Chinese style of poetry:

    What is "home"? Beauty
    is nice, but family bonds
    stand the test of time.

and...

    Winging through the Black, dreams of jet-black waves...
    Would her hair feel like silk through my fingers?
    Sinking into atmo: indigo blue skies...
    Would a kiss cause those eyes to smile at me?

Then... another deep breath, mentally crossing her fingers... and Solbiort checks for messages to her.

The poem is written in free verse, in very simple and unambiguous characters, probably to remove any angst over possible double- or even triple-meanings.

    Your words fall upon me like the autumn leaves cloaking the ground,
    hiding from view the seeds which will bring joy in springtime.

    Your words come upon me like the sun cast upon the early frost,
    melting the ice into droplets which catch the light and cast forth brilliant rainbows.

    Your words are the great ocean which washes upon the sandy shore,
    moving it to undertake new shapes and forms in celebration of the ocean's touch.

    Your words are the cast of a dozen moons' light upon the silken darkness,
    revealing the suggestion of joy, and the joy of suggestion.

Solbiort initially practically devours the little poem, eager to discern whether her hopeful lady love is pleased with her small offerings or not. Once she's done her emerald eyes light up with pleasure, and she goes back and reads it again, savoring the words and exploring meaning slowly and with enjoyment. She beams, both delighted to see the Dragon Lady seems to find something of worth in her halting attempts at poetry... and appreciative that the lady was kind enough to use simple prose for someone unused to the language.

She sighs happily, leaning back in her seat after the third reading. Five Dragons likes her! She really likes her! Could this be it -- the woman to bring home to her mothers, the one for her, the brilliant and handsome valdojer she'd always dreamed of finding as a child? After the seventh reading, however, Solbiort frowns. Hm... this is far too lovely for her inadequate attempts to write! She's going to have to find or create something much, much nicer to send once she's landed at Boros.

Some time later Solbiort wanders dreamily from the Bridge, the practically-memorized poem lilting through her head like music. Mmm... maybe a nice jade horse's bracelet as a gift, so the Dragon Lady can also band their future horse with Solbiort? Perhaps they can shop for the more ornate lover's bracelet together, though, since it's supposed to say something personal about the original owner -- not something Soli could simply pick up for Five Dragons, after all.


Solbiort unlocks the cabin hatchway to the room serving as Elsa Saladin's combined sickroom and prison, and carefully ducks through it, closing the hatch behind her. She's balancing a steaming plate of delicious smelling food on one hand, and she settles next to the bed, "Nihao. We had fresh meat tonight. Feel up to eating some solid food?"

Saladin blinks, looking a little surprised as she lifts herself -- carefully -- up to a sitting position. "Yes, please. Thank you, Captain; that smells delicious." Solbiort nods, handing the plate and utensils to Saladin, and giving her some time to eat before chatting. She'll slouch comfortably in the desk chair, booted ankles crossed on the lower edge of the bed, and sip her mug of drink for a few moments.

Saladin doesn't wolf down the food, but she does eat as if very hungry. It takes her several minutes to make a solid dent in the portions. She's just finishing off one of the protein biscuits when she asks, "So... what was that jinking about? What unpleasant company did we come upon?"

Solbiort smiles ruefully, gazing into her mug, "Ah, that. Vas us taking on two red half-moon gunships who vere successfully attacking a DFIV." She grins with lazy satisfaction, adding, "Von downed." With less pleasure she adds, "T'other escaped to varn the enemy." She grins again, adding, "Ze DFIV acknowledged they'd nefer seen such fancy flying... to draw off two gunships like that, vith no veaponry to attack vith!" Her eyes are quietly amused.

Saladin arches a brow. "Two gunships? I mean, two milspec gunships?" She grins a little. "Heh. Well, Gorman'd never have been able to skipper a boat like this in a situation like that... with the DFIV covering for the use of weapons, or not. I'll have to say well done, Captain."

Solbiort smiles and nods once politely -- of course Gorman couldn't have done that; he wasn't a real pilot like she is! -- then continues, "Commander vas on the DFIV, the Curry. Is hokay for you to know zat vith AlSec, but vould not recommend mentioning it elsevhere... might be bad."

Saladin blinks. "An Alliance commander? Whew... I imagine that's a big feather in the cap, to save the bacon of one like that."

Solbiort shrugs slightly, not going further into what happened. "Suspect vill not do us any good. Commanders not known for enjoying being rescued from embarrassment." She grins again. "Hm, vhat else... oh, also Adarra Security happy to protect you. Boros is next stop; you should be safe vith them."

Saladin gives a bit of a smile. "No, they aren't, really. Still, fortuitous. Oh! Good; I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you again for that, Captain."

Solbiort nods quietly, "Least ve could do. Good luck vith them... am hoping soon to ambush the red half-moons. Maybe at Shadow." She is peacefully amused to see how carefully polite the former 'torpedo' is being. Still, better that than having to constantly restrain her or fight with her. Idly Solbiort visually checks Saladin, wondering if she's healed up enough yet to start having cabin fever.

Saladin still seems to not be in perfect health -- still healing, and so not quite ready to start chewing the walls. She nods. "If I was any more healed, I'd asked to come along." She sighs. "Not because they killed Gorman, but because they're the ones who were behind setting us up."

Solbiort murmurs calmly, "Vill not be to Boros for two veeks yet, und do not know if Adarra Sec vill be sending folks there. Vhy not ask them if you can go vith vhatever contingent they send?"

Saladin nods. "I'll do that; thanks, Captain. I don't know if they'll let a Browncoat participate, but... it can't hurt to ask."

Solbiort chuckles, "Think you are forgetting, mei-mei -- in this conflict vill be no purplebellies or browncoats. Vill be red half-moons... und everyvon else. Or, as old martial arts teacher used to put it, only the qvick und the dead."

Saladin grimaces a little, and nods again. "That's probably the best way to put it."

Solbiort says, "Ya. If you can shoot or fly, und can think past former expired var parameters... then think you vill be velcome."

Saladin says, "I'll keep that in mind, Captain. I'll be very much hoping that 'everyone else' is in the 'quick' category."

Solbiort chuckles quietly and nods once, then says, "So. You are fed, healing, seem comfortable so far, got safe place to go. Got any other qvestions?"

Saladin thinks for a moment as she chews the protein cutlet. "If I can ask, where've we been setting down while I was convalescing? Have we run into the half-moons again?"

Solbiort says, "Right now are landed on Persephone, und have not seen any red half-moons past gunships ve drove off earlier. Have been being careful und not disembarking unless necessary, though."

Saladin nods thoughtfully, then pauses in her chewing and looks at the tray, blinking. "This... this isn't soylets. It's... bountiful Buddha, this is real meat! Where... how...?"

Solbiort raises an amused eyebrow, "Told you ve had fresh meat tonight. Somevon vas pleased vith our delivery, und paid in livestock. Don't have means of caring for it aboard ship, so..." she grins, "ve ate it."

Saladin digs in again on the meat. "Well! I'm definitely not going to complain. Fresh food aboard ship is a rare treat! Thank you for sharing it!"

Solbiort grins ruefully, "Ya, so ve didn't let mei-mei Molly cook it."

Saladin mmphs, and rolls her eyes a little. "If only she could stop thinking of cooking as being similar to making improvised explosives, she'd really be a decent cook."

Solbiort grumbles, "Vouldn't know... am really hoping to find decent cook eventually."


Some time later Solbiort returns to the gallery and drops off the empty plate and utensils she'd taken out to Saladin, then sets up a fresh plate of hot cooked goat. She heads on out again, practically glowing as she hums happily to herself, half-oblivious to anyone else present.

Elgyn blinks as he watches Solbiort breeze in and out. He then peers at the remains of his own dinner, sniffing and poking at it, as if wondering if someone added something to it. "The goat was good, but not that good," he muses to himself, rising from where he was sitting and trying to track down the Captain by her humming. It's obvious from the sound that Solbiort is headed for medbay. Elgyn follows in Solbiort's wake... he's not sneaking, not exactly... just sort of giving her plenty of space. He realizes then that maybe Soli's just bringing food to Wintarsen... still, what's with the humming?

Solbiort checks to see if Wintarsen is awake, and if he'd like some fresh food. Wintarsen is awake, yes, and is quite glad to see and smell real food. "You'd not believe how hard it was to come by," he comments cheerfully. "It wasn't right to serve to only a few while the rest of the army ate rations, so we all usually made do with pro-rats." If this triggers any duality of memories he doesn't seem to show it, digging into the food heartily.

Solbiort chuckles quietly, sitting nearby and giving Wintarsen some company while he eats. She'll answer any questions he may have also... she figures it's the least she can do for someone who's probably soon going to discover he's been an unwitting stooge for what he most hates.

Elgyn lurks, leaning in the doorway as he has been for most of Solbiort's meetings with Wintarsen. He is still wondering at her cheerful mood, but that is slightly subsumed as he watches, wondering when Solbiort will tell the man what they learned. Or if she will at all. Solbiort glances up and notices Elgyn, smiling once before she looks back at Wintarsen. She seems quite bright-eyed with happiness. Elgyn tilts his head. Okay, now he's really curious, but he doesn't want to go asking in front of Wintarsen.

Wintarsen seems to be deliberately avoiding commenting on or mentioning specifics about the War -- that seems to be the time period most confusing for him, as he's finding. Nevertheless, he still has enough material from before the war to chat comfortably with someone else. Solbiort is happy to do so, quite willing to let him approach difficult subjects on his own timetable. Once he's done eating she makes sure he's comfortable, then clears out to let him rest. She grins cheerfully at Elgyn as she heads back to the Galley to dump off the dishes.

Elgyn runs a little to catch up. "Captain... am I missing something?"

Solbiort hms, giving Elgyn a curious glance, "Vhat, di-di?" She considers, then shakes her head, "Don't think so... did you miss a vatch or something?"

Elgyn claps his hands together. "No, not literally..." he trails off and then quickly interjects. "It just... it's not that I feel that you or any of us should be feeling crushed with despair and gloominess considering our current situation, but you seem abnormally cheerful, even for you, under the circumstances. So I ask... did something really good happen that no one told me about? Like the goat having ingested a diamond, or Nigel figuring out how to make the Half-Moons explode just by staring hard at them?"

Solbiort laughs aloud, heading for their cabin, "Neh, di-di, nothing like that -- at least that I know of!" she hastily amends. "Vouldn't put it past the animal to do somezing veird like that, though." She curiously adds, "Vhy you clapping hands?"

Elgyn blinks, and didn't realize he had kept doing it after the first time. He stops, suddenly feeling self conscious. "So... you're not especially happy, then?"

Solbiort tilts her head curiously at Elgyn, "Vhat? Neh, am happy. Vhat is up vith you?"

Elgyn suddenly feels ridiculous. He's acting all nosy and feeling uncomfortable, and he has no idea why. "Nothing, I'm sorry... I shouldn't read into things, I guess," he mumbles, abruptly realizing they've arrived at the cabin, and opening the door for her instinctively.

Solbiort says, "Sheh-sheh, di-di." She strides into the room, happily flopping onto the bed, "Vell, don't know 'bout you, but am qvite pleased! Think my poetry vent over vell, you know?"

Elgyn stops in the doorway. "With whom? Did you give the crew a reading?" he queries, blinking.

Solbiort snorts amusedly at Elgyn, "In or out, di-di! Don't leave hatchvay open!"

Elgyn quickly steps in and sits in a chair. "Or wait... you were gone a while on that run with Raj. Did you find some sort of performance place on Persephone?"

Solbiort gives Elgyn a curious look, "Vhat is eating you, di-di? Are acting veird!" She casually yanks off a boot, dropping it by the side of the bed, then starts on the other as she speaks.

Elgyn stares at Solbiort in bemusement. "What do you mean, eating at me? I'm just asking a question... isn't that what you do when someone else says something you don't understand? Ask what they mean?" Her question only makes him more uncomfortable -- as if there's something wrong with him, instead of her being all musically cheerful.

Solbiort laughs! "You are funny, di-di! Acting like you feel guilty about somezing." She grins amiably, dropping the other boot next to the first, "Already told you don't really care if laundry is not perfect. Only thing vould upset me vould be carelessness vith the leathers." She leans back on the bed on one elbow, and considers, "Hm, so. You vere asking about poetry? Neh, did not write for crew, und did not 'perform' for anyvon. Sent it to lady vhich I am courting!" She beams, stretching her arms languidly over her head, "Mmmm... und she like!"

Elgyn was about to just give up... felt like everything he said was just digging himself in deeper, and making trouble where none existed. So he's in the middle of sighing and unlacing his own moccasin when she unloads that bit of news. "Wait... what?"

Solbiort puts her arms behind her head, beaming dreamily at the ceiling, "Vhat vhat, di-di?"

Elgyn looks up and stares at Solbiort. Things fall into place like a chain of dominos. Except... "You're courting someone? A lady? When did this start?"

Solbiort says, "Hm?" She turns her emerald eyes towards Elgyn, thinking for a moment as her gaze sharpens. Then she laughs. "Excuse me?! Vhat you interrogating for, hm?"

Elgyn rolls his eyes. "Solbiort, I'm not interrogating, I just... I was surprised. And, I mean... when you say something like this, can you blame me for being curious?"

Solbiort chuckles, "Are not acting like somevon curious, di-di. Are acting like somevon... vith..." Her voice trails off as she considers... then she chuckles, "Ah! Am understanding now." She smiles at Elgyn amusedly, "Ya, am courting lady. Think she may like me also. Vill vait on giving her name until am sure." She adds gently, "Just because am courting possible valdojer does not mean am thinking of dumping you, di-di. Vould not treat you so."

Elgyn is rendered speechless. His first inclination is to deny that he was considering that at all... and although he was not explicitly thinking about it, he quickly realizes that that fear was there in the back of his mind. This realization only heightens his consternation at her assurance that he is not being 'dumped' -- as if there was actually something there between them. Which... which there is, he has to admit, his initial refusal of her aside. Just recently he had been running his hand over Solbiort's flitter, remembering it... remembering how she had watched over him that first day as he made his way to the encampment; tired, hot, and hungry. All this goes through his head, but no intelligible reply appears. He suddenly busies himself with removing his moccasins again, to fill the void and to hide his face.

Solbiort smiles quietly, watching Elgyn and letting him have a moment to pull himself together. "I hope you're being careful," Elgyn finally says as he removes his footwear and puts it aside, once more composed. "I mean... I would not want to put more people in danger, considering our current circumstances. I have been worried too about the well-being of the others... Natasha and the Professor."

Solbiort chuckles, her gaze entirely too understanding. "Oh, ya. Shall be very, very careful no von involved should feel hurt. Vill not be pushing anyvon into role they are not vanting."

Given his current state of mind, Elgyn doesn't miss what Solbiort is implying. The look he gives her shows the proof of that... but he can find nothing to say that is an adequate reply to that. He moves to the bedroll at the foot of her bed then, and lays down. "I wish you good fortune in your... quest, Captain," he says honestly.

Solbiort smiles, leaning over to lightly run a hand across Elgyn's short fuzz, "Ah, you are sveet, di-di. I vish it vell also. But please, no vorries, ya? You have place vith me for as long as you vant, neh matter vhere I go, neh matter how large family becomes."

Elgyn can't help but smile back as she teases at his much shorter hair... now he can actually feel her fingertips against his scalp, and it makes his body tingle. "No worries, captain," he agrees. Solbiort chuckles quietly, then rises long enough to strip for bed and toss her clothes on the back of a chair. Then she paces back towards the bed, humming contentedly to herself as she unbraids and shakes out her hair. A moment later she's turned out the lights and relaxing for sleep.

"Solbiort?" Elgyn queries softly, not long after.

Solbiort's voice is dreamily contented, "Mmm, di-di?"

"I am curious... your flitter... can it hold more than one?"

Solbiort says, "Mmhmm. You rode this von vith me on Midgaard, remember, di-di?"

Elgyn does remember, but wasn't sure if it was the same model. "Would you take me flying sometime?" he suddenly queries. "A nice day, without all the... cold and snow."

There's silence for a moment in the darkness, and then Solbiort's warm chuckle, "Ah, di-di, if you vish ve go flying on Boros, ya? Very good, strong vinds there! You like?"

She can hear the smile in his next words. "I would like that very much, Solbiort," he tells her. And then somehow his right hand manages to find her left and squeezes it tentatively, as if unsure how the gesture would be received. Solbiort smiles and gently squeezes back... then stretches out lazily and drifts off to sleep.


Later the next day a message comes in for Nigel from Natasha -- she says she would love to meet with him when they're both in the same port, and is eagerly looking forward to talking with him. Nigel actually seems not grouchy for a bit after getting the message. Not cheerful, but lacking a bit of his normal edge. Elgyn resists the urge to rib Nigel... he definitely notices the difference. With all the messages done and a clear plan ahead of them, Scarlet Chimera leaps out from Persephone and, with the flare of her pulse drives, races out into the black.

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

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