TOG In Space Chapter 9 – What Was I Thinking?, a star citizen fanfic

There's a bit of turbulence on approach to New Austin. Thunderheads tower through the dark above the city and its environs, illuminated by regular bolts of brilliant white light. It even looks like I'll be on final in an absolute downpour.

In spite of the attention I should be paying to flying, I'm brooding over Gloria's parting comments. "You need to start watching your back, Shawn. Remember, OES Associates aren't known to have a sense of humor. Oh, and you still don't know who is after your life." She seemed so somber and even... well... almost depressed. She wouldn't say more and I had finally given up. I wonder if she's really serious that she'll get yanked off my case... or what ominous things OES involvement might portend.

I pull up my mobi and find the codes to open the rental's hangar doors and turn on the approach lights. My HUD picks up the landing beacon and I float into the brightly lit cavern. A lake of water falls from the craft as I move back to the landing pad itself. Hope the floor has those self-absorbers, I'd hate to have to mop it.

…..

The hangar is dark, except when the lightning flashes outside. My mind is already playing games with me and sleep has chosen to seek another person to enfold. it's 0230 local and I'm about as awake as I can be. Every thunderclap must be someone attacking. Every gust of wind stealing through cracks in the door seals is a nameless assailant coming for me. Tossing and turning on the otherwise comfortable bed, I finally surrender to reality: I'm totally paranoid now.

I get up, don my flight-suit, and climb into the M50's narrow cockpit. The canopy closes and I lean back as much as I can. How about tunes... ooops, forgot them again. I wonder what the locals are listening to and turn on the frequency modulated unit. Land-bound like these channels and it doesn't take long to find one with haunting but quiet music. I rest my helm with visor down over my weary head and find sleep has returned to beckon me... though I know not where.

…..

I've waited in line at Xeno Affairs for another two hours. This is getting old, maybe I'll be here tomorrow as well.

"Citizen Ryan? Citizen Shawn Ryan?" an attractive redhead at least three dacades younger than myself calls and for just a moment I wish it were for other reasons... but no, I'm eager to get out of here, no use causing even a hint of delay.

"That's me, Ma'am," I say, rising.

She glances my way and I get the impression she already knew it was me. "Please follow me, sir," she says. Her stride seems muted somehow and while walking her figure takes on a rhythm not quite appropriate for an office. Well, for any office I've ever had to sit in... not that there have been that many... oh, never mind.

We walk into an elevator and the numbers seem to be going up. Odd, but it actually feels like we're going down. Must have some serious damper problems to have the inertia so askew.

The door opens into a windowless hallway. Until now, I've been able to enjoy the occasional views while waiting, but here the lack of the sense of New Austin about us adds an ominous overtone, almost as if there were a gloom impeding the lights.

"Where are we going?" I venture.

"You are to have an interview." She says it coldly and I start looking around, trying to take in anything I might need to know later. I even consider turning around for the elevator, but then again, what if I'm just jumpy for no reason and miss my chance to get this over with?

She stops just past a nondescript door. A door with no number or other Identification on it. A door that now opens into a barren room, void of anything but a rather hard looking chair.

"After you," I say, trying to smile.

"You are being interviewed, Citizen... not me."

I look at the place and back at her. "Well, then where is the person who is going to interview me?"

"They will contact you shortly."

The room is taking on more and more of the look of a prison 'shoe', a solitary confinement cell.

"I think I'll just wait out here."

A door whisks open behind me and I sense a presence step up close enough to feel his or her breath on my neck. I wish I'd learned all those fancy martial arts moves and could take apart whomever... but I didn't and now I'm stuck.

She smiles... much too broadly. "You need to sit," she replies pointing to the chair, "There, Citizen Ryan."

I wonder how painful this is going to be. Might as well find out now... I start to turn around and a pair of vises masquerading as hands come down on my shoulders. "In," someone grunts while shoving me roughly through the doorway. The portal slides closed and it's dark. Very, very dark.

…..

I don't know how long I've been sitting on the floor, huddled into a corner of the barren room. My mobi is useless here, it crashed when I tried to access it and the stupid thing won't even boot now, much less connect.

I have discovered there is a faint hint of light at the bottom of the doorway, but it has stayed constant; if that means what I think it does, I'm now all alone. Well... actually, I bet someone is watching me somehow, but I'm not going to give them any satisfaction.

I decide to rest my head on my knees and suddenly the lights are on. LOTS of bright ones. The room is flooded white light and I'm blinded. Okay, maybe it will only be temporary, but I'm not putting anything past the folks concocting this. On the other hand, maybe I just need to try to sleep anyway. Again I lower my head towards my knees. A loud tone begins... it warbles at a frequency obviously chosen for being annoying. An urrgh sounds better than this. I want to scream at whomever to stop, but it occurs to me that such a reaction is just what they desire. I put my head all the way down on my knees and close my eyes. There is a better chance a comet will survive a black hole than I have of sleeping, but I do everything I can to relax.

I think about spring on the plantation, helping pick some of the first flush, saving some special leaves for my personal use. I think about the humming birds chasing each other around my feeders. I think about chickadees hunting for spiders in the rafters. I think about music and the love of the dance.

Finally, I think about the first time I flew my 350 out under the Great Banner. I sense the tensions drain away and relax for the first time since I entered the room.

It appears that whomever watches saw that, too. The lights dim to normal, the sounds stop, and a voice begins, "Good morning, Citizen Ryan. I take it you are ready for us to have a nice little chat."

I can't help myself as I reply, "Well, if you wanted a nice little chat, you might have started out a bit... NICER."

The voice almost chuckles, "That was nice, Citizen Ryan. You need to cooperate with the process or it won't be."

"If you've read my history, you know where you government types stuck me. If you've got worse than that, I bet my age just kicks in and I keel over... then you'll have nothing. Savvy?"

"Are you saying you are not going to cooperate?"

"I'm saying that you are off to a poor start if you want me to."

"Sit in the chair, Citizen Ryan."

"You forgot the magic word."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not your servant. If you want me to do something, you will have to ask."

The tone comes back on and the lights get brilliant. I put my head back down on my knees and begin to think about flying in space again. This is obviously going to be about who is the most obstinate. I'm sure that they have other means of making me cooperate, but right now, it's just a test of wills. I'm likely a heck of a lot older and more stubborn than whomever, and we'll just see about this.

It doesn't take all that long to tune it all out and relax again, and guess what? We are back to no noise and normal lights.

I look up at the room and say to whomever, "You know, old person eardrums can go pretty easily, then I won't even be able to hear when you do ask politely."

Nothing. No response at all.

I expect an answer, but nothing. Probably one of those psych tools to get me to cooperate, but I'm fine with putting my head back down and not letting frustration get me... yet.

My head touches my arm and the voice says, "Will you please sit in the chair, Mr. Ryan?"

My head comes up and I ask, "Why? You can talk to me just fine right here."

"Because it is more civilized for you to present yourself in a chair."

"Just like it is more civilized to speak to someone face to face, isn't it?"

Silence.

I put my head back down. Honestly, I'm grinning. Bet the weenie is getting his shorts in a knot over this.

"Do you understand that you are little people?" the voice asks icily. There is a malicious undertone in that casual question.

Head back up. 'Little people' is a popular term in holovids... bad guys use it for the throw-away types they have no regard for... psychopaths sometimes use it for their victims. That my questioner has addressed me so brings an ire that he may not have intended.

"Then bring it on, buddy. I'm obviously not here about my XA registration, so your whole thing falls apart. I don't cooperate with criminals or sociopaths out there, government or not, and I'm not starting now. Treat me with respect and I'm agreeable, treat me like scum and you might as well start the torture now, because you are wasting your time waiting for me to cow."

"Indeed."

"Yup."

The door whisks open and someone who could bench press an asteroid steps in, grabs me by my arms and throws me onto the chair. I slide off the other side and am moving to the corner when he grabs me again and places me on the chair. My back hurts and I've now got bruises all over, but I decide this may as well end quickly. I twist away and he grabs at me again.

Okay, lets dispense with the polite response, he is much stronger than I am, but I'm not a pushover. When his arm crosses my face, I bite hard, drawing blood and a scream a five year old girl would be proud of.

I feel the blow to my head and then not much else.

…..

I'm having trouble seeing, my face seems numb and I'm very dizzy. On top of all of that, I've got a headache that could fell an elezark. Through this haze a voice begins, "I know you are functionally awake, Citizen Ryan."

As I become more aware, I realize that I'm now bound to the chair in the middle of the room. My wrists are as secure as if they were molded accessories of the cold thing and my calves are likewise part of the legs.

Well, might as well get this off on the right foot, "So, what's your point?"

"You are going to cooperate."

"You can kiss my furry white behind."

"You are going to cooperate," he repeats.

"Hey, you must be paid by the hour anyway, keep saying that for a while."

Silence.

I must not be exactly what they expected.

"You will repeat after me."

"Remember where I told you to kiss?"

"You will repeat after me if you want this to end."

Hmmm. Maybe a wee bit of cooperation would be worth it, just to see where this is going. "You will repeat after me if you want this to end."

"Very good."

"I am Shawn Ryan."

"I was born on Earth."

"No, I was born on..."

He interrupts quickly, "Repeat what I say."

"But it isn't correct."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

Hmmm, I wonder what he is up to. I answer, "Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"I was born on Earth."

"I have an M50 Partisan."

"I like cute women."

"I am forty-five."

"No, I'm..."

"I am forty-five."

This just seems wrong, "I am forty-five."

"I am contracted to the Xi'An government."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"What?"

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"Look, this is getting weird, you are trying to get me to say all this stuff..." and idea strikes me, they are going to get me to say a bunch of stuff that isn't true to convict me of something. "I'm not going to let you get some audio to splice together and make me look like a crook. Not happenin' bud."

I think I detect a hint of exasperation, barely there, but audible, "I prefer Xi'An to human."

"What do you mean by 'prefer'? I've never seen an attractive Xi'An if that's what you mean."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

"Bite m e."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

Oh, yeah... well, I guess this isn't something that I'll get killed over. "Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"I prefer Xi'An to human."

What's the point? "I prefer Xi'An to human."

"I am a Xi'An spy."

"Bite m e. You are trying to set me up."

"I am a Xi'An spy."

"You are? Well, you sure picked a lousy way to show it, hiding out in a UEE Xeno Affairs office."

"Repeat what I say if you want this to end."

"Well, we are going to be here for a while, then."

Silence.

…..

The door whisks open behind me. I feel the tape being cut. The gorilla I bit earlier moves around in front of me just as I realize that my hands are free. He tosses a pair of blunt nosed children's scissors into my lap and backs away.

I look down at the instrument as I flex my fingers, "What, not doing my legs?"

He grins and nods. Pointing to his bandaged arm, "Six stitches. I mean to keep it to that."

"Sorry, sir, but you know I had to try."

"Yup. You're a real PITA."

"PITA?"

"Pain in the Ass. Pretty scrappy for an old dude," he says rather more respectfully than I would have expected.

"Thanks, I think." I guess I should ask rather than assume, "So, I can cut them myself?"

"Yup, go for it."

"Children's scissors?" I ask as I fight through the wrappings on my left leg.

"I wasn't going to give you something to stab me with, now was I?"

"No, I guess that makes sense."

…..

I'm free and muscle man has taken the scissors and left. It is still the same room, still the same chair, and I'm back to sitting on the floor in the corner with my head down.

The door does it's whisking thing and I look up at a middle aged woman standing in the entryway with her arms folded across her chest.

I might as well get this off to a good start, "May I help you?"

"I'm sure you may, whether you will is entirely another matter."

That didn't make a lot of sense as a reply. "You'll have to excuse me, but I've already had more psychobabble than my brain can handle in one day. If that's all you have to say, I'm going to put my head back down."

"We wanted to run a lie detector on you and you failed to cooperate. What do you think we should do with you?"

"I could give you a list, but since your side started out with bullying, I think I'll just suspect you are playing good cop to my previous tormentor's bad one."

"I'm not with the Advocacy."

"And I know that how?"

"Because I told you so."

"So I take your word when you don't trust me enough to take mine? Seems a stretch in human interaction, don't you think?"

"You are the one in contact with the Xi'An."

"Yeah, flying wing for Kree'Gna. Imperial contract. Big whoop dee do. I'm not applying to control a Bengal cruiser or get nuclear launch codes. They've got more reason to worry about me being a spy than we do, don't they?"

She studies me, saying nothing. She's actually pretty in an honest sort of way; there isn't any makeup that I can detect, little or no lipstick, and mousy brown hair just slightly askew as if tossed out of the way a few too many times. I can't quite tell what color her eyes are in this light, but I doubt they detract from the overall effect at close range.

She comes to some decision, "Please follow me."

I manage to reach my feet, but am reduced to shuffling as both legs are somewhat asleep.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asks at my obvious difficulty.

"Just got both legs asleep. Well, that and they seem a little more banged up than they were this morning."

She nods and turns to lead the way down the hall. Just before the end, a portal slides open and she leads into what looks like a comfortable office. There is a large glas on rollers that seems rather out of place, but otherwise, it could even be a formal living room similar to what Camilla keeps at the big house.

She waves me to a comfortable chair as she introduces herself, "I'm Doctor Elsa Wong. Please call me Elsa. I'm one of the evaluators called in on your case."

I bow slightly in her direction and say simply, "Doctor Wong."

Her expression reflects that she has noticed that I've stayed formal. "I take it you would rather I refer to you as 'Citizen Ryan' instead of 'Shawn'?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I don't know you from Eve and I doubt that will change any time soon. False intimacy is just a fool's toy in my book."

She nods.

"Medical doctor or Shrink?" I ask.

A hint of shaking her head at the epithet, but she calmly says, "Psychiatrist."

"Yeah, figured. Dealt with your kind a bit back in the day."

"At the RRS compound on..."

I interrupt, "Yup. Hate even the mention of that hell hole."

"Pretty strong response after so many years."

I know my expression and tone of voice change as I answer, "It should be much stronger."

"Care to tell me why?"

"No." If her game is to make me relive this, the unseen moron in the room before is preferable. "Don't want to relive that even a little."

She nods, "I see."

We sit in silence as she handles a glas tab of some sort.

"Do you mind if we use this kind of detector?" she asks while pointing to the overlarge rolling thing.

"What is it?"

"It is a very sophisticated scanner of physiological activity."

"How about plain English for us normal types."

"I actually know you are not a dunce, Citizen Ryan."

"So?"

"This is a fancy lie detector. It isn't as simple as the chair and requires a better level of training to interpret."

"If they had treated me like a human and not some lab rat I might have cooperated with the chair."

"Really? It doesn't fit your profile."

"The same one you thought showed I would cooperate with the treatment I actually got?"

"It wasn't my profile that said that, or my interpretation of it... but you are correct that the profile was wrong about your predicted response."

Interesting.

"Sure, you can use it as long as I don't think you are trying to trick me into something again."

"They were not trying to trick you, the chair works best by having the subject repeat what is said. True things are obviously different from false ones on the flutter."

"What?"

"Old term for the recording and the lie-detector process in general."

I think about the reading of names and wonder for a moment if the place the Xi'An had me sit on Rihlah wasn't a lie detector chair of some sort.

"I'm still not going to say I am some sort of spy for you folks to make into a confession of something I'm not."

"This glas operates differently. We can talk, I will just be looking through it at you while you speak," she says, while sliding the contraption between us. It sits, something like a shimmering window between us. It's actually rather disconcerting, but hey, if this gets over soon, I'm game.

"Is this acceptable?"

"Yeah, fire away."

"Why don't you tell me what you want to about your history up until you started flying with..." she looks a her tab, "Kree'Gna."

"The first time, or the recent contract stuff?"

"You pick."

…..

"Wait," Doctor Wong finally interrupts.

I've been talking for hours with only a bathroom break and a glass of water. "So, tell me again, that is the woman who came on to you at the platform and she was now sitting on your bed in your bedroom on Terra Prime?"

"Yup."

She looks puzzled, "So, did you sleep with her?"

"No," I laugh, much to her discomfort. "She was there to... well... sorta recruit me."

"For the Xi'An?" the doctor asks, while her expression make it obvious that she doesn't think that makes sense.

"No, for MARC."

"Who is Mark?"

"Some intel types."

"She isn't OES. Advocacy?"

"No, MARC. M. A. R. C."

"Never heard of them."

I shrug, "Well, that's not my problem. The Xi'An obviously had, so I'm not at all likely to think it was made up." A thought strikes me, "And how would you know she isn't OES?"

Dr. Wong smiles and I know the answer to my question.

"Please continue with your story," she finally says and I do.

…..

"So this Dnong character is some kind of senior Seer?"

"Yup. Were I to guess, he is a member of the Outer Ring, whatever that is."

"Why would you think that?"

"He was there on Rihlah when what I guess was the Outer Ring interrogated me."

"Do you even know what the Outer Ring of the Seers is?"

"Nope. I do know that Toth Anddag was there and he declared himself the eldest member of it and the Imperial person in the room did not dispute the claim. I guessed that the rest of the Seers there represented others from the Outer Ring and since Dnong Ksack was there, it fit that he was probably one also."

The doctor seems to be reading something on the big glas between us and silence drifts over us as she concentrates on whatever. The more she reads, the more troubled she grows.

"Is something wrong?" I ask casually.

She looks at me and then back at the place in space that she has been studying. Finally, she all but whispers, "We need to return to your story. You were on the Xi'Shana..."

…..

The door opens and a tall woman and taller man enter. The woman whispers something to the doctor who nods disappointedly.

Dr. Wong looks at me and says, "I'm going to have to terminate my portion of this interview, Citizen Ryan. Your knowledge exceeds my access and I'm going to have to turn you over to Ms. Smith and Mr. Jones."

"Smith and Jones, how original," I opine dryly.

Ms. Smith nods my way and says, "You will follow me, Mr. Ryan."

"You forgot the magic words and that didn't sound like a friendly request."

"Are you hoping for a sense of humor, Mr. Ryan?"

"That would be nice, but I'll settle for a little courtesy."

"You will settle for a lot less than that," Mr. Jones says with a hard edged tone.

I address Doctor Wong, "I'm guessing they didn't take any time to review the results of my time in the room down the hall."

Her brow arches just a hint and her expression says it before her mouth does, "No, I suspect not."

I look back at Jones and reply with a shrug, "Not nice means you need to do what you think you need to. Just remember the lad down the hall took six stitches for his efforts."

"Are you threatening me?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Nope, just giving you fair warning that I'm ill inclined to cooperate with rude inconsiderate knuckle-draggers."

He looks ready to pounce and I steel myself to resist the assault.

"Hold," Ms. Smith orders. Looking me in the eye, she continues, "Mr. Ryan, would you be so kind as to come with us?"

"Very nicely done," I respond. Rising, I nod the good doctor's way and say, "I've enjoyed out little chat, Ma'am. No lies, right?"

She nods.

"Told you I tell the truth when I'm treated with respect." Yes, I've said this as much for the two standing agents or whatever they call themselves.

"Have a nice day, Citizen Ryan," she offers as I follow Smith out the door.

…..

We are riding the elevator again, this time it feels like it's going up and the numbers agree. The door opens and I think we are at of near ground level... if only because there are quite a number of regular looking folks in the hallway.

"Where is your vehicle?" Ms. Smith queries.

"In the rental hangar. I walked over."

"You walked?" she asks without discernible emotion.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very good. We would like to take you to a more private place to continue a conversation. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Does that mean I'm not getting my registration today?"

"It means that we are not sure you need one."

"Oh."

"We will take you to your craft and ask that you proceed to a given coordinate. I probably don't need to tell you that departing Terran space without attending this meeting would fail to provide any registration and most certainly mark you as a wanted person. Please do not make that mistake."

I think I hear Mr. Jones grumble just before I answer, "Thanks for being so polite about it. I'll go, just tell me where."

"The coordinates are loaded to your mobi's nav."

I realize the mobi has rebooted and appears to be working fine again. I check the nav and indeed it has a set of coordinates for an island some three hundred kilometers west of us.

"No problem. You want me to go straight there?"

She smiles, though honestly it seems more out of irony than any genuine warmth. "Yes," she says, "We would have to insist that you go straight there unless you rather we simply take you ourselves."

We walk out the building doors and I realize it is already rather late in the afternoon. I respond to her, "Nope. I rather have my boat with me."

"Boat?" Mr Jones seems surprised.

"No, sorry. Just abusing my Ori... er... my M50."

"Okay," he grunts as we climb into a small trendy hover with darkly tinted windows.

…..

At the hangar building, we get out and I start up the stairs to my unit. They stand there for a few moments and then head to the elevator. I guess they get enough exercise beating people up and don't need the stairs like I do. Of course, they are to my door just about the same time I am.

"Mind if we come in?" Smith asks.

"As long as you don't mind me changing clothes in front of you."

"I'll look the other way."

"Nothing to hide, come on in."

They follow me through the doorway and I head immediately for the bathroom.

Business taken care of, I emerge to discover that both are looking the M50 over pretty carefully. I change into a flight suit, choosing my old one... the one Kree'Gna thought might be bugged. This could be interesting, or this could get me killed... we'll see, I guess. With the dragonskin boots, I look ready to fly. I gather the rest of my gear, if they keep me too long, I don't want the cleaning crew to take possession of what would be unintentionally left.

"Are you not expecting to meet me there?" I ask, striding towards the craft.

Smith stops looking at the Xi'An thruster mods and replies, "Perhaps."

"How long am I supposed to wait?"

"Until you are contacted, of course."

"Well, have you attached a tracking device or are you planning on riding on the wings?"

Jones icily replies, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Excuse me?"

"You seem to have a misplaced idea that the OES is peopled with impotent fools. I assure you it is not the case. Stop goading us, it is neither funny nor appreciated."

I'm tempted to make a snide response, but something in his demeanor seems a caution and I think better of it. I stow my bags in a cargo hole, walk forward to drop the stairs down and climb into the cockpit. Only as the canopy closes and the stairs retract do the two of them back away a bit.

I key the open codes for the rental bay doors and initiate the Partisan's startup sequence. The comm glas shows that Kree'Gna has tried to contact me this morning, but no message was left. Kinda odd, calling on the craft comm and not following up on the mobi.

The bay doors finish opening and the brilliant late afternoon sun beckons. The M50 responds to my hover and I wave. Only Mr. Jones is still standing there watching me, Ms. Smith is already walking to the front door. Power to the maneuvering thrusters and I'm gliding out the door into the sunshine.

…..

"Ryan to Kree'Gna."

He responds fairly quickly, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"I wanted to check on you; are you having any trouble with your registrations?"

"Lots of trouble. Now the OES is involved and Gloria seems to have dumped me."

"What?!" he responds, seemingly alarmed.

"I saw Gloria last night and she said that OES would probably take over my case. MARC doesn't like working with them, I guess, so she is out... at least that's what she said. OES is indeed on the case, I was interrogated all morning and most of the afternoon."

"Are they done now?"

"Nope, I'm flying to some island at their request to 'continue the conversation' unquote."

"Be very careful of them. I will need to get further instruction on the status of the contract if OES is involved now."

"Oh, why?"

"We already have OES information." The way he says this makes me feel I shouldn't ask anything more about it.

"So you only want me around if MARC is tracking me?"

"I do not know what is desired, Shawn Ryan. It is no longer just up to me."

"Kree'Gna, am I no longer your friend?"

I hear a smile in his voice, "You are always my friend. Whether you remain my wing is what I can no longer control."

"Understood. I still have a day or two, right?"

"Yes, of course. The current schedule is unchanged."

"They have a way of jamming signals, my mobi doesn't always work."

"Yes, the Seers have something similar. Be careful, Sean Ryan.

"Thanks, Kree'Gna. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

Kree'Gna's uncertainty is troubling me. What the heck is going on? Why did I agree to any of this, much less to take a bird that has just gotten me into trouble? Could I have foreseen any of this and avoided it? I'm going off to a place I know nothing about and can't even get good data from the onboard chart glas. What have I gotten myself into? Would it make more sense to point the nose at the sky and run for the embassy to find out just what is up? How could I even have taken the stupid M50? What was I thinking?

I'm racing across the sky, still in the thin blue atmosphere. My main comm comes to life, "Shawn Ryan, we have you on approach. You will power down all sensors and scanning systems. Follow the vector we are sending you." Seems a rather less than professional control tower communication, but I guess this isn't exactly a normal place I'm going, either... is it? "Um, okay, control wherever, doing as ordered."

I'm chasing the sunlight and the island comes into view with just a bit more daylight than when I had when I left New Austin.

My destination seems to be an idyllic cross between a small volcanic "high island" and a classic atoll, with dark strands encircled by rich blue and azure seas, and green trees lining the beaches and climbing the smokeless cinder cone. Closer inspection shows a rather solid looking series of low buildings just beyond the beaches and that not quite so inviting. It is only when I'm on final that I recognize that there are way too many anti-air batteries around. They expect to need to repel an armada, that or they like decorating with missiles.

…..

Before I can choose my own parking space, a ground crewman signals me into a cavernous hangar. I follow his instructions and ahead another directs me to a pad. I set the craft down as instructed and shut the systems off. Placing my palm on the security pad, I select a set of lockouts. I really need to get Duncan installed, this is so unfriendly.

A well dressed man approaches the craft; I exit onto the hard floor, turn, and cheerily ask, "So, when are Smith and Jones showing up?"

Bowing slightly, the black haired man offers, "Welcome, Mr. Ryan. I am Po Shen-zhong. Welcome to our little paradise."

All around me are craft which would suggest a slightly less bucolic assessment of the place, but I see no reason to argue the point. I return his bow and reply, "Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Po."

"Please follow me, Mr. Ryan," he says while turning and heading towards an exit.

Well, at least it isn't some ice planet covered with mind-numbed Marines. Maybe they will let me relax on the beach and get a tan. I think to call Camilla to tell her not to make dinner for me, but my mobi seems to have stopped working... again.

"Mr. Po?" I ask, keeping up with his vigorous stride.

"Yes, Mr. Ryan?"

"My mobiglas appears to have stopped working. Can you remedy that?"

"Of course I can. Unfortunately, we have further business to attend to first. It can be restored later or when you leave."

"Ah. Thanks, I guess." Well, at least he said 'when' I leave and not 'if'... I guess that is a good thing.

Outside the hangar, sunset has begun to paint the scattered clouds with a warm gold.

Mr. Po addresses me as we continue, "Mr. Ryan, I regret that we have gotten so late a start. Would you prefer to attempt to complete the interviews tonight or have a chance to relax and refresh yourself before starting again in the morning?"

"No offense, Mr. Po, but while I'm tired, I'm much more tired of the process. The sooner we can get this over with, the better in my book."

"Would you object to speaking over dinner?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Any menu preferences?"

"Meat with very hot sauce."

"Is Derry's Solar Flare good enough?"

Smiling, I reply, "It'll do unless you have some Rat's Blood."

He chuckles, "You do like it hot, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"We'll see what we can provide. We have assigned you a room in case it is needed, please feel free to refresh yourself there," he says while pointing to a small cottage that seems to back onto the ocean and the setting sun beyond. "Dinner is in an hour and I will need a little time to prepare."

"Smith and Jones not coming?"

He smiles again, "No, here you are my guest, why should I not speak with you myself?"

…..

The shower felt nice, now I'm letting warm sea breezes air dry me as I stand rather unclothed at my back door, facing downhill towards a black sand strand and the surf surging onto it. There is no one else to be seen, so my nakedness doesn't seem likely to cause a problem. Besides, if they are watching me, I bet it isn't something they expect me to do... why not keep them guessing?

An unseen speaker comes to life in the ceiling, "Mr. Ryan, dinner is served. Third building on the right after you leave your front door."

"Thanks," I say to whomever, wondering if they can even hear me.

I slip into my flight suit again and wander down to the building described. At the door, a guard stops me.

"Your suit is bugged," he assures me, looking back and forth between a glas and myself. "You may not wear that in here."

"You guys can jam my mobi, why not my suit?"

"You may not wear that in here," he repeats without any indication that he is going to answer me.

Mr. Po rounds a corner and walks up to the guard. The latter shows him something and he nods. Looking my way, he says, "George is quite correct. You will need different garments for this evening. Would you like something sent over?"

"May I return to my craft and get some out of it?"

"Please, feel free to do so. Dinner can wait a bit if you like."

"You don't have to do that on my account."

"I would prefer to do so, Mr. Ryan. Please go change and we will look forward to your presence."

…..

In spite of moving with a fair amount of speed for me, it has taken thirty-five minutes to return to the door. This time, I'm just wearing jeans and a comfortably loose linen shirt.

George the guard checks his glas and then waves me through, pointing me in the direction of the dining room.

Mr. Po has other guests, including two very attractive young women who might be his daughters.

All rise at my approach and Mr. Po offers, "Welcome, Mr. Ryan. Please sit at that end," while gesturing to the end opposite himself.

"As you wish," I reply.

As I arrive at the chair, they all take their seats. "May I introduce all of you to our guest tonight, Mr. Shawn Ryan. Mr. Ryan is currently employed as a security pilot for one of the Xi'An diplomatic staff."

Seven pairs of eyes look my way as I say, "Good evening, all."

"First, allow me to introduce my wife, Mai and my daughter, Xin." Well, I was right about one of them. The other doesn't look older by much, but I'm disinclined to argue. "Good evening, ladies."

"This is my assistant, Major McMurdoe," he says, pointing to a gentleman immediately to my left in civilian clothes who nods my way.

"Sir," I say while nodding to him in response.

"Gordon Bellforte, a trusted man of..." he pauses rather deliberately it would seem, "... Many talents and the closest person I have available who approximates a Xi'An expert."

Sitting just beyond the Major, Mr. Bellforte nods my way while seeming to study me.

"These are resident..." he pauses while indicating the pair on my right, then continues in the same tone, "Doctors, Dr. Millesius and Dr. Lee."

I smile pleasantly while asking, "Shrinks?"

Millesius a slightly overweight man, frowns a hint, but then his face returns to neutral.

Doctor Lee, a petite woman, simply smiles and answers, "If that is how you see us, then perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the negatives you feel about our profession."

"Check your notes from Dr. Wong."

"I've already reviewed your time with her."

"Then perhaps you would..."

Mr. Po chooses to interrupt here, "I believe dinner will get cold if we make this about differences in opinion about the psychiatric profession. Let us reserve any such discussion until later."

Dr. Lee's eyes never leave mine. She is an opponent, and that's no lie.

A pair of servants bring in plates of fish and one of prime rib... with a bottle of Solar Flare; I'm guessing that is mine, though in fact the hot sauce is placed equidistant between myself and the Major.

Yup, the prime rib appears to be mine, while a very large salmon-pink fish steak goes to every other plate. The fine fragrance wafts upwards to fill my nose. I'm offered a wine and accept the glass as poured... a fruity pinkish liquid with just a few bubbles.

Looking up, I realize that the rest have already begun tearing into their meals. Well, perhaps tearing is only appropriate for Mr. Po, the Major, Mr. Bellforte, and Dr. Lee. Oh, and Xin seems to be devouring hers rather swiftly as well. The Major appears to have indeed added some of the hot sauce and has that grin only we initiates get.

I spice up mine and dig in. As my ears begin to burn and my lips go numb, the Major looks my way and smiles. We both understand the hot and are undeterred by it; it's a moment of shared appreciation.