Remy thought about following her but didn't know what he would say. It was probably best if she cooled off for a second. In any case, he'd gone months without getting laid and that was ending tonight. He threw his coat back on and went down to the bar where he'd already eyed a pretty waitress. Every plan should have a backup, and he smiled to himself.

Back on the ship, Rora was in her room asleep and Kurt sat in the viewing alcove reading. He was waiting up for Anna in true older brother fashion but it was late and he was tired and perhaps a little tipsy. His eyes flagged and his head bobbed until he passed into dreams right there in the soft leather chair.

He met a stewardess once, on a shuttle out of New York, with golden hair and a ready smile, beautiful pink lips shaped just so. Her name was Amanda and there was something about her face that he was never able to forget, something in its shape and in the set of her hazel eyes. They struck up a conversation and at the end of the flight, as they were all piling off, she slipped her phone number into his hand. Why had he never called her?

In his dream they talked as before but instead of slipping out of her life forever as he had done, he slipped her into the shuttle bathroom, picked her whole body up, set her down right on the sink edge. She gasped delightedly, whispered "What are you doing?" though her eyes sparkled, and he smiled and kissed her with all the violence a man may kiss a woman and keep her willing. Someone banged on the bathroom door a few times but he ignored it until it finally stopped. His arms went around her waist and hers went to his chest and she moaned into his mouth. It was all perfect. I was all too perfect.

Somewhere on the shuttle a child began to cry. Again he ignored it, but the formless sounds grew louder, shaped into the words and the words became his name over and over and over…

"Kuuuuuurt!"

He woke up just as Rora's screaming abruptly stopped and he heard the muted clanging of soft-soled boots on the catwalks and mumbled orders. He jerked forward to grab his rifle and flipped off the safety, resisting the urge to press his hands around the transducer to quiet the sound of its whine. He leveled the barrel on the back of the chair and the first fool came into view around the corner, wearing an all black uniform with a red insignia on it, a six tentacled skull. He squeezed the trigger and a bright bolt of plasma hit the hapless gendarme in the chest and toppled him over the railing to the floor below. Indistinct voices shouted and he could hear feet moving.

He moved to the wall and edged up to the corner, then shot blindly around it assuming there was another and was rewarded with the dull thud of a body hitting the catwalk. A few more stray shots met only air. He looked left and right then down into the bay where he could see one of them carrying the girl over his shoulders toward the open maw of the ramp. He ran and vaulted over the railing launching himself ten feet through the air to the dangling cargo chain which began to slide down quickly with his weight, clang-clang-clang-clang-clang. The man turned and fired at him with his free hand and nicked his body armor. Kurt spun on his chain and fired back, hitting him in the leg and forcing him to kneel. Then he jumped to the floor, charging him as he unceremoniously dropped Rora to the ground.

The whine of his rifle was audible again which meant it was recovering and that was fine. He ducked out of the way of the man's ceramic bullet and spun the rifle by the trigger hold and then the barrel in a carnival display of virtuosity, so that the butt of the weapon came up under the man's chin with enough force to pop some teeth out and break his jaw. The man howled in pain but his blood shot eyes stayed focused and he aimed again at Kurt who had simply beaten him to the punch at this point. Kurt fired a low blast into his abdomen knocking him into the wall and rushed over to close the bay door. Pulled out his phone, typed in PANIC2 and pressed send. He rushed to Rora's side and checked her pulse then left her lying there to sweep the rest of the ship.

He heard a comm link crackle on the man on the floor.

"Gauntlet 6 this is Gauntlet 1. What is the status of the ship? Over."

He pressed the small receiver on the man's arm and suppressed his accent.

"Gauntlet 1 this is Gauntlet 6. The ship is empty. What are your instructions? Over."

"Standby Gauntlet 6."

He sighed and his head dropped. He ripped the receiver off of the body and carried it with him to look for the fourth man. Because three was just too strange a number…there had to be a fourth…somewhere.

Anna stomped angrily down the hall and took the stairs down seven flights so that no one in the elevators would see her flushed face and her wet eyes. Somewhere between the second and third floor she stopped to sit on the stairs and reflect, to gather her thoughts and her feelings. She felt like she'd ruined something, by losing her temper, by being drunk, by being stupid in general or when it came to this man in particular.

Maybe it was a dumb idea anyways. He'd as much as said that he would stay in Madripoor to disappear from his ex-comrades. But even if she never saw him again she couldn't help what she wanted, and again it seemed stupid, to get hung up on a vagabond with a price on his head. And yet she was.

She let loose a torrent of tears and shuddering sobs that were as much a product of her years of self pity as they were of a single rejection. And when she was done she felt better, strong again, as she should be, as she was. She stood, straightened her shirt and jacket, wiped her eyes…everything was fine…fine.

Her phone alarm went off, not the delicate chime of her alerts, but a constant buzzing screech. She didn't even have to look at it. She flew down the remaining stairs in a second and out of the stairwell door. Tipsy revelers stopped and looked at her as she sprinted down the wide marble hallway, past tall windows that looked into bars, restaurants, shops, and on out into the city.

In the bar the waitress was already sidled up close to Remy, putting her hand on his knee, sliding it up. Their conversation had bottomed out and entirely turned to innuendo after ten minutes. He was whispering some obscene promise in her ear when he saw Anna through the windows, running for her life, clipping a shopper who fell and spilled clothes all over the cream-colored stone floor. She didn't even seem to notice, and when he saw her he fell silent mid sentence.

"What is it?" said the waitress.

"Huh."

"When we get up to the room you're gonna…what?"

He smiled at her playfully, put his hands on her hips. "Why don't you head up there and wait for me…den I'll show you." He opened his wallet and handed her a room key. "814."

"Hmm." It was half hum half closed mouth laugh. She lowered her head and put the corner of the card in her teeth. "Why don't you come up with me?"

He brushed her hair out of her face, tucked it behind her ear as he had done for Anna less than half an hour ago. It was striking how all these gestures of tenderness could mean anything.

"I got somet'ing I gotta do first p'tit."

She made that pleasant humming sound again.

"I like it when you call me p'tit."

He smiled wickedly.

"I'm gonna call you dat and some more in a little bit, now go on."

She swung her hips this way and that biting her lip, then spun around and walked away sashaying as she went. She turned left out of the bar and headed to the elevators, winking back at him as the doors closed on her.

Remy sighed quietly as he watched her go. When he left the bar he turned right.

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