A/N: Chapter 20 already! A little longer one than we've had of late. Hopefully, worth sinking your teeth into.

We really get into the thick of the search now. What does the museum curator know? Can he point the way to the nodes?

Chapter 20

"I remember you! The student researching the U'larr/Eshaaru legend – came to see the Zramynian memory nodes." A look of something more than recognition flickered across the curator's face that Ettwanae couldn't identify. He was not attractive to her tastes – squat, plump, a snouted nose, shiny dark gray eyes that were almost black with no whites, and his crinkly skin was a medium gray that looked like it should have been covered with a nap of fur. Perhaps somewhere in the species' distant past it had been.

"Yes."

"A little more than a standard year ago, if I'm recalling correctly. What brings you back to my museum?"

"I need more information. I was given one of these," she held the memory node out in her palm, "Do you still have the three I saw last time? I'd like to compare them to this one." She was careful to sound as if she hadn't a clue the nodes weren't in the museum. The curator leaned toward her out-stretched hand for a better look. She pulled it back.

"The nodes are no longer in our collection."

"Where are they?"

"Unknown. In truth, they were stolen. A terrible incident. The very idea someone would desecrate such important artifacts for profit…" The curator shook his head. The answer and gesture were a little too practiced, she felt.

"When did this happen?" She made certain to sound dismayed.

The curator met her eyes in an almost daring look. "Shortly after your visit. You were fortunate to have come when you did…the last aside from me to see them. You say you were given that node?" The man's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

She ignored the question. "Who would do such a thing?"

"I cannot say. There are the profiteers and there are others who seek the secrets of the ancients. Some will risk much for those ends."

She put on her best young, needful look. "What about the other artifacts? The ones that were with the nodes? Perhaps if I examined them more closely…"

"No longer here either. Moved for security reasons after the robbery."

"To another museum?"

"I am not privy to that information. They are safe, that is all I was told."

"But you're the curator. Certainly they told you where the artifacts were sent?"

"Sorry," he said dismissively, and started to back away. "I cannot help you. Now I must get back to my work." He turned and started toward a door at the rear of the room.

"Who moved them, can you at least tell me that?" she asked to his back, following him. "Please, this is important to me. I only want to examine them. There are so many questions…"

"And I have no answers," the short man dismissed with a wave of his hand, not bothering to turn around. "The artifacts are gone. There is nothing more I can tell you."

"But who took them? You must know."

The curator finally stopped and swirled to face her. "This research you should drop. Find another study subject."

Ettwanae jerked. "Why? What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I say."

"Please, Curator Tribo'lu. Any information you may have could be helpful."

"The collection from Zramynian System is no longer in my museum. You must look elsewhere."

"But where?"

"This purported research project must be very important…you sound desperate." His face hardened. "If you have friends resourceful and generous enough to give you an Eshaaru memory node, you don't need my assistance. I am returning to my duties." Turning from Ettwanae once again, the man continued toward the back exit.

Warren watched the exchange from the shadows, keeping out of sight. Curator Tribo'lu was lying. Warren could see it in the eyes and body language despite the man being a race he had only limited exposure to. And now their only known link to the missing nodes was shutting Ettwanae down and likely nothing she said would change that. He did not see her as threatening. Not in her Sat'reyan disguise. All the Wynnaran saw was a lone, young, unassuming female. Warren decided if they were going to learn anything, the situation called for more persuasive techniques.

He stepped out of the shadows. "Tribo'lu! Answer the lady's questions," he ordered in Turzent as he strode toward the pair at the opposite end of the display room.

The Wynnaran stopped in his tracks and watched Warren with suspicion. "Who are you?" the man demanded in return.

Warren closed in. "I think you know more than you are telling us, curator. All we want is who took artifacts."

The man eyed Warren carefully, studying his face. "You look familiar – I've seen you on the comnet news I think…"

"Who I am is irrelevant. We've come for information on the nodes you had in your possession. Answer her questions." Warren said firmly as he neared the curator.

"The artifacts are no longer in my museum. How much clearer can I be?"

"But where are they? Who took them and why?" Ettwanae asked.

"You'll not find what you are looking for here."

In one swift move, Warren grabbed the much shorter man by the throat and slammed him into the wall, raising him up so Wynnaran's feet dangled inches above the floor and they were eye-to-eye. He locked onto the dark-grey, pupil-less orbs and gave the alien a lethal glare, wishing he could spread his wings to add to the affect – they really did help him make a statement. "The lady asked nicely. I'm not so nice. Either you answer her questions or I start squeezing. Unless you breathe through something other than your throat, I suggest you tell us what you know. Am I making myself clear?"

The man managed a nod, his eyes wide. The hands clamped around Warren's wrists shook slightly. Warren lowered him to his feet. "Where are the artifacts?" Warren eased his grip, but only enough to allow the curator to speak more easily.

"I- I can't. They will kill me…or worse! You must understand. They are ruthless!"

"Who?"

"I can't tell you!"

Warren narrowed his eyes to slits. "You are trying my patience."

"They will know! Please, I cannot," the man pleaded, fear rising.

The curator may have believed what he said, but it didn't matter. "Then you die here today. Is that what you want? Over a simple request for information? Is that worth your future?"

"I speak, I have no future. Dead either way."

"Where there's life, there's hope. You tell us what you know and we let you live. If not…" Warren tightened the chokehold producing the expected strangled sounds and clawing at his hands in a vain attempt to break free. Failing there, Tribo'lu kicked; it hurt, but Warren had endured far worse and maintained his grip. When the curator stilled, he eased up and the Wynnaran took a deep breath and then sudddenly relaxed.

"Kill me," the man made a show of bravery. "If I say anything, I'm dead already."

Warren leaned his face very close. "As I see it, you can choose to die now or later. Later, you have a chance if you run. A chance to live. Choose now, and you'll get no such chance. Only a fool would throw away his life when there's hope," Warren explained with ominous tones. "Now choose!" he snarled. The man jumped in his grasp.

"They took them, but I don't know where." Warren squeezed. "I don't, I vow it!" Tribo'lu squeaked.

"Who are they?"

The curator's eyes darted around as if he expected to see someone jump out of the shadows. "Etagllot," came the whispered reply.

"Etagllot?" That surprised Warren. How was that illicit organization involved? Weren't they bio-scientists?

"They took the remaining artifacts to keep them safe. Wise considering the memory nodes were stolen by two different thieves." The Wynnaran gave Warren a cold look. "The node she showed me is one of the stolen, isn't it?"

Warren choked off any more accusations. "I'm asking the questions. Who would steal the nodes?"

"All the typical suspects."

"Indulge me…"

"Seekers, for one."

"Seekers?" Warren and Ettwanae exchanged glances. Her expression said "not a clue."

The curator's eyes darted from Warren to Ettwanae. "You are obviously searching for Etxan'Ir, but don't know about the Seekers?" Disbelief was unmistakable in Tribo'lu's tone.

Warren retightened his hand around the throat. "What we know or don't know isn't relevant to your survival. Tell us about these Seekers."

"Independent searchers for the U'larr and the Library of all Knowledge. They believe Etxan'Ir exists and are trying to find it. Seekers also believe that if they find the right artifacts, they will lead them to Etxan'Ir."

Warren eased up on the curator. "Who else wants the artifacts?"

"The Dark Ones. They have vast resources behind their search."

Warren sensed a change in their informant. Was he making the psychology jump from resistance to begrudging cooperation? Warren released his hold and took a half-step back to encourage more of the same. "For the sake of discussion, let's say we don't know who these Dark Ones are. Enlighten us."

Tribo'lu smiled ever so slightly at Warren's backhanded admission. 'Good.' If he could get the man on their side, so to speak, they may learn much. He'd never met a museum curator who didn't enjoy flaunting his knowledge.

After straightening his clothing, the Wynnaran spoke. "If you are seeking Etxan'Ir, and didn't know you have competition, you are very naïve. That naivety will get you killed, though at the moment I can't say I would be upset." He gave Warren a hard look while rubbing his neck that already showed signs of bruising beneath the gray coloring.

"Stick with answering the questions."

"The Seekers as I said are mostly independents, but within a loosely organized…association is the best word. They tend to share information amongst themselves. The Dark Ones, though, have vast resources behind them and from what I've heard, are highly organized. They are decidedly anti-social. Don't mess with them, not if you value your life."

"Do you think one of those groups stole the memory nodes?" Ettwanae stepped closer.

"That would be my guess, and because of the sophistication of the robbery, I'd have to say Dark Ones. Yet, it is not beyond what less honorable Seekers or even a rogue searcher has been known to do."

"And the rest of the artifacts were taken by the Etagllot?" The man nodded. "Why would they want them?"

Tribo'lu made a gesture that Warren couldn't read; it felt like a sign of disbelief or amazement. "You truly are novices! You have no idea as to what you're meddling in, do you? Two first-level amateurs that in all likelihood are not going to survive the year. That is your fate if you continue as you are. Come with me!" The man commanded in irritated tones, taking a step toward the rear exit, but Warren blocked his way. "If you want to know anything, let me pass. We're going to my office to educate you."

The man's demeanor had changed before their eyes and he appeared temporarily on their side likely seeing that as his best survival option. Warren would encourage the change, but remain wary of anything underhanded. This man he would not trust for an instant. He let Tribo'lu pass and they followed through the backrooms of the museum until coming to what was obviously an office. Stacks of old books, artifacts, and papers covered every surface. It looked as though no one had cleaned in years. Such a stark contrast to the immaculate museum display rooms.

"Sit where you wish, just put things aside."

"Any wrong moves, any attempt to signal for help…" Warren warned in a threatening voice.

"I know, I know…my life is forfeited," the man's attitude had gone from fearful to cavalier, perhaps from surviving similar predicaments more than once in the past. Settling at his desk, Tribo'lu activated his computer interface and the holo-image winked on displaying the likeness of a Wynnaran female's face. "Greetings, Nedii," the computer voice welcomed with warmth. "It is good to see you. Your day is a good one?"

"No time for talking now, Peka," the man answered in an almost embarrassed rush.

"You sound stressed. Is everything well?" the AI pressed in perfect Imperial Turzent while the hovering face took on a concerned expression.

"Not now!" Tribo'lu hissed.

"Very well." The artificial intelligence interface actually sounded offended.

Warren exchanged an amused look with Ettwanae.

"Bring up file Nexus One, security code Peka'lu."

'Oh, that's just too funny a coincidence.' Warren laughed inwardly at the phonetic similarity. 'Peekaboo – Pekalu!'

"As you command, Nedii." A sharpness to the tone indicated one slightly pissed AI, at least to Warren's estimation. He smirked as the data file revealed itself, replacing the female face. Warren moved around behind Tribo'lu where he could see the man's hands and gestured Ettwanae to pull a chair up to the desk.

Tribo'lu waved at the image. "These are my records on the search for Etxan'Ir – what I've managed to piece together over the years. It's as close as I'm getting to that twisted plot. Too easy to be pulled into the endless stratagems. Paranoia is a common affliction amongst searchers. You two," he shook his mole-like head, "need to find another hobby before it's too late."

"Just tell us what you know," Warren pressed, "and spare us your advice."

"I warned you – you can never say no one warned you."

"And if it's so dangerous, why do you keep these records?" Ettwanae leaned in closer. The file started out with a very intriguing question, Etxan'Ir – Real or Legend?

"Because in my area of expertise, people come to me often with their questions."

Warren looked down at the Wynnaran. "And that area of expertise would be…"

"The U'larr. Why else do you think the relics you seek were brought here to confirm their authenticity? I have established a reputation as a leading expert in U'larr relics and-"

Warren cut him off. "And what was your conclusion?"

Tribo'lu sniffed his annoyance. "They were as their finders believed – U'larr. More precisely, U'larr talismans and Eshaaru memory nodes."

"That much you told me last time I visited. You also explained the talismans and nodes couldn't be activated, so you were unable to unlock their secrets."

The curator waved agreement. "Unless you are Eshaaru or U'larr, the artifacts will remain locked. No one that I know of has been able to break through the security measures."

"If the artifacts are useless, why are people after them?" Warren questioned.

"Because," the man sighed, "they hold the key to finding Etxan'Ir. Some believe you only need to bring the right artifacts together – that proximity is itself a key and once they are unlocked, the way to Etxan'Ir will be shown whether or not you are U'larr or Eshaaru. That is what the Seekers believe, and so they search for whatever artifacts they can find, trying all manner of combinations, hoping they'll stumble across the correct combination. Foolish!"

"Why is it foolish?" Ettwanae questioned.

"Because nothing in the writings indicate that is the case. Oh, yes, if you twist a meaning here or reinterpret a passage there, you could contrive that to be what the writers meant. I've studied the text and in my opinion, there is nothing that supports the concept."

"Writings?" Ettwanae questioned.

Another exasperated sigh emanated from the curator. "Yes, the Teigon writings," came the sharp retort. Ettwanae shook her head. "The Vjete System artifacts?" Ettwanae produced a blank look and Tribo'lu snorted quite loudly. "Of all the naive, amateurish, uneducated…" The irritated curator left the rest of his condemnation unspoken.

Ettwanae blinked wide-eyed at the gruff attitude, hurt showing. Warren had enough as protective feelings swept through him. Leaning in close, he whispered deadly nothings into the man's ear. Tribo'lu flinched and blanched. Warren pulled back. "Let's go back a step. Who all is after Etxan'Ir?"

"Besides the Seekers and Dark Ones, there are the unaligned searchers." The man's tone was tense. "Peka, go to the Searchers section of this file." Immediately a list of names popped up. "These are the individuals I'm aware of."

Ettwanae and Warren took a breath. "The list is long!" Ettwanae gasped.

Tribo'lu waved at the display. "And these are just ones I know of…people who've come to me over the years that are obviously on their own. Many don't give a name, so I've listed them as anonymous. To date, I have 106 anonymous. The names I do have are probably false. One of the first things searchers learn is to keep their identities to themselves. Those who were obviously serious searchers are noted as such."

"How do you tell who's serious and who's not?"

"Young lady, if they are as naïve as the two of you, they are not serious, or at least they haven't been in the hunt long. Amateurs and the uninformed – they are the ones who get themselves in trouble. That'd be you and your friend here. Apparently, you haven't learned much since last time we talked."

Warren ignored the criticism – apparently the man recovered quickly from the warning, but he chose to let it go. "So in addition to Seekers, we've got individual Searchers who aren't associated with any group. And the Etagllot…what's their interest?"

"They've got an agenda, but I don't have a clue as to what that is. They brought the artifacts here to be authenticated with very clear instructions that I was to comm whenever someone came asking about the nodes."

Ettwanae turned her head sharply to Warren, her eyes wide. / Volu? / She immediately felt the Eshaar'ne's presence. / I think we've learned how the Etagllot learned I was on Jandur last time. The curator works for them. /

/ Our suspicions are confirmed. /

/ Talk more later, / she signed off.

"So every time someone came asking questions about the artifacts, you commed the Etagllot?" she accused.

The man waved his hands. "No, no. Only if they came asking about the nodes. Understand, no one was suppose to know they were here. The other artifacts, yes – a public announcement went out that new U'larr talisman were on display, but the nodes were never mentioned or put on public display. Which meant if someone asked about them, they had inside information." The Wynnaran's shiny eyes locked on Ettwanae. "You never did tell me how you knew they were here."

"Inside information," she offered with a smug grin.

"Can't we have an open exchange? I tell you secrets, you tell me secrets."

Warren placed his hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed – hard. The curator stiffened. "This is already an exchange, Tribo'lu. You tell us secrets, I don't kill you." The man nodded nervously. "Back to the Etagllot."

"Peka, open Etagllot section." As the data came up, Tribo'lu pointed to the image. "This is the data I've gathered or concluded. The Etagllot organization…you do know something about who and what they are, yes?"

"We are familiar with the organization."

"At least there is something you know," the man jabbed sarcastically to Warren. "They've been trying to find Etxan'Ir for decades apparently. One of their pet projects. Why? Don't know, don't care, but wherever artifacts turn up, they seem to be one of the first on the scene, at least according to what others have told me."

Warren's concern was heightened. If the Etagllot were involved in more than just illicit scientific bio research, what else did they have their mitts into? "And why would you be in cahoots with them?" Warren demanded.

"No choice. They threatened me if I didn't cooperate. I heard the stories, I'm not a fool. I do as they demand. I won't lose my life over a few relics."

"Or lose sleep over any guilt of betrayal," Warren sneered at the realization the man was responsible for ratting out Ettwanae a year earlier. The curator ignored him.

"So the Etagllot are searching for Etxan'Ir for unknown reasons. Various individuals also. And the Seekers, an organized group?" Ettwanae prodded.

"Loosely organized. More like a cooperative of individual searchers. Peka, display Seekers records." New data filled the screen. Relic names, locations, dates – the list was long. "As you can see, I've had a few Seekers here over the years. I've listed what they were asking about and other information."

"And how did you know these people were Seekers and not individuals?" Something didn't ring true to Warren.

"It's not like they announced themselves, if that's what you're thinking. No, I use deductive reasoning. I deem someone a Seeker when their search is at a higher level of sophistication. When they know things that individual searchers usually do not – if their philosophy and knowledge fits the Seeker profile." Then he looked up at Ettwanae again. "Which is what I thought you were at first, but the more we talked, but more I realized you weren't. Too naïve, too many holes in your knowledge. A Seeker would have known much more than you. You weren't a novice either – you had details that an individual searcher wouldn't have known. I couldn't categorize you."

"So I'm in your database?" she wanted to know.

"Yes. You're on a very short list I call the Enigmas." Then the man became very still.

"Tribo'lu, what should we know about your Enigmas?" When he didn't answer immediately, Warren leaned down close to the Wynnaran's small ear. "Bring up the file and explain," he commanded in dire tones. He could hear the man swallow.

"Peka, Enigma file." The list was short indeed, Enigma One through Seven.

"Which one am I?"

"Peka, access subfile Enigma Seven."

Warren and Ettwanae read the accompanying text. Female, Sat'reyan, very young adult. Inquired about the three Eshaaru amulet memory nodes and other artifacts recovered from Zramynian System. The mention of nodes immediately piqued interest – how did she know they were here, including the number recovered? Claimed to be an archeological student researching the U'larr, but have serious doubts of the truth of that story. Unusually knowledgeable of Eshaaru culture and racial characteristics, as well of U'larr history – including information generally unknown to casual searchers and even most Seekers, yet apparently ignorant concerning The Search. Detected no connections with any known organized efforts. Sensed an almost desperation, but unlike usual searcher fervor…more personal, best description. Showed her the nodes and observed carefully. An emotional reaction was evident, though the female attempted to hide it. Something clearly different about this searcher. Too many contradictions and unexplainables. Could indicate Seeker or other affiliation, yet seemingly oblivious to information well known to those organizations. After careful consideration, added to Enigma list.

It was odd reading about the event from someone else's perspective. Ettwanae chided herself over the slip regarding the nodes. He was right – how would she know they were at the museum? If Volu hadn't said her sensors detected three nodes, she wouldn't have. And as far as she and Volu knew, only Eshaaru and Eshaar'ne could sense amulet memory nodes, so the curator had every right to be suspicious. The situation had all the indicators of a trap.

"So you see how your novice behavior endangers you? Your small mistake flagged you immediately. This is not a game for the naïve. The two of you should stop now while you are still…unharmed," Tribo'lu warned again.

Warren pressed on. "Etagllot, Seekers, Searchers…you mentioned the Dark Ones. Who are they?"

A visible shiver ran through the Wynnaran. "Someone you don't want to encounter. They make the Etagllot look like sentientarians." That was a new Turzent word for Warren. Without his embedded translator turned on, he wasn't sure of the meaning, but dread emanated from the Tribo'lu. "Answer the question."

"The Dark Ones don't call themselves that. It's a moniker given them by others. Very nasty group. Just as soon kill you as not, particularly if you get in their way."

"Is that how they got the name – from being evil?" Ettwanae asked as she shifted in her chair. This was becoming more and more fascinating and alarming. How could she have been searching this long for her people, her family's possessions, and Etxan'Ir and not have learned more? 'We have been naïve, if what he's saying is true.'

"In part. From what I've been told, the Dark Ones also appear to be just that – beings of darkness. Some hypothesize they are one of the ancients races. Others say they're from another dimension with unknown schemes for this dimension. Still others speculate they are simply an ultra-secret society of searchers who use fear and intimidation and will stop at nothing to find Etxan'Ir to obtain its knowledge."

"Beings of darkness? Another dimension?" That truly piqued Ettwanae's interest. How did that play against Ozshi'wanae – the goddess of light? "What do they look like?"

Tribo'lu shook his head. "One Seeker told me he'd seen a Dark One once and lived to tell. He was obviously shaken by the experience and at first didn't wish to discuss it. But I'm good at getting people to talk…usually," he said with a quick glance over his shoulder at Warren. "What he described was a shadow being – a black form with no identifying features. Corporeal, yet perhaps not. When he was describing them, it reminded me of the U'larr. Are you aware of the theory that says they were barely corporeal? Physical beings that weren't fully solid. That could be behind the hypothesis that the Dark Ones are really one of the ancients."

"I've heard the theory, yes," Ettwanae confirmed. "So we have four kinds of searchers – Searchers, Seekers, Etagllot, and the Dark Ones, correct?" The curator gestured yes.

"The playing field's pretty crowded," Warren injected. "Anyone else?"

"Aside from those on my Enigma list, not that I'm aware of. But my knowledge is limited and only from information I've been able to glean from others over the years. I am not directly involved in the search."

"And from your keen observation skills, what are the reasons people want to find Etxan'Ir?"

Tribo'lu let out a strange guttural sound that Warren assumed was the Wynnaran equivalent of a laugh. "I hope that you are simply verifying your knowledge against mine and that you are not truly that ignorant. For the power of course. Power that comes from vast knowledge. Can you image if you possessed all the knowledge of the ancient races? All the knowledge of the emerging races from tens of thousands of years? You would be almost omnipotent!"

"That's it? Just the drive to rule over others?" Warren was actually disappointed it was that simplistic. Alien races were no different than Human; someone always wanting to subjugate someone else.

"Or the drive to prevent that from happening," the curator clarified. "The Seekers are determined to prevent Etxan'Ir from falling into malevolent hands."

Ettwanae shot a look up to Warren. "Really? You're certain of this?"

The Wynnaran splayed his hands. "When it comes to the Search, nothing is a certainty. There is layer upon layer of mystery, players, agendas, and conspiracy surrounding it. As I said before, your naivety endangers you. My advice is to either learn what you need to know or stop now."

"Stopping is not an option."

"Then, my assailant, you need to get educated."

"By you," Warren stated flatly.

"No. By someone who knows much more than I do. I am a museum curator, not a searcher. I only record what I've learned out of professional curiosity…a bit of a hobby. Safer than actually participating, normally." He rubbed his bruised throat. "You need to find someone with in-depth knowledge who's willing to part with it."

Ettwanae locked eyes with Tribo'lu. "You can point us in the direction of someone?"

"I can, but I also warn you. Trust no one, not even the person I name."

Warren leaned down next to Tribo'lu's head. "First, though, you will tell us where the Etagllot took the artifacts. Or did you think we forgot about that little part?"

The curator shook his head. "Not for a moment. The remaining artifacts likely were taken to one of the Etagllot's secret facilities. Where that is, I can't even begin to guess, but there are others who know more."

"And you believe the Dark Ones took the nodes?" Warren wanted confirmation of the man's opinion.

A hand gesture signaled agreement. "Yes, based on the sophistication of the thievery."

"And you're going to tell us names and places to continue our search, correct?" Warren informed matter-of-factly.

"I choose to believe you are honorable and will not kill me after you get what you want. Is my belief foolish?" Tribo'lu twisted to look up and back at Warren.

"I keep my pledges, curator. If you tell us what we want to know, you live. But should I find that you have lead us astray or into a trap, all pledges are void. You understand the terms?" Warren noticed an ever so slight shiver in the Wynnaran as the man held Warren's cold stare.

"Understood. The best person for what you seek is Tider. Not his real name, though. And I don't know his real name, if you're planning to ask," the curator added quickly. "Go to Tchutchka Centrus, to the city of Im. You can't miss it – biggest city on the planet, which isn't saying much. Find the antiquities shop called Bjuitsi. Ask for the shop owner. Tell him Raijis in Keeping sent you. That's my code phrase."

"And giving him that…will his reaction be positive or negative?" Warren wanted to know what sort of reception to expect.

"He and I have an understanding. He will be cautious, but not hostile if that's what you're asking."

Ettwanae cocked her head in that avian way that made Warren smile inside. "This understanding you have, what does that mean?"

"He knows I will only send to him the most intriguing of searchers. Those that show promise of holding information he doesn't have. My Enigmas."

"Why didn't you tell me about him last time I visited – I'm obviously on your list."

Tribo'lu's dark eyes got darker if that was possible. He held Ettwanae's gaze firmly. "Because at the time, the Etagllot were watching me, or rather they were watching for whomever may come looking for the artifacts. They would have followed you to Tider. He isn't fond of the Etagllot and would not appreciate a visit from you with them in tow."

"And the Etagllot are not watching you now?" Warren demanded.

"No. The artifacts are gone. I'm instructed to contact them about anyone who comes inquiring, but I am not under surveillance. My museum is no longer worth the effort."

Warren wasn't as certain of that as the curator seemed to be. "So when we leave here, you will contact the Etagllot and inform them we were here."

"Yes."

Warren stepped back to get a full view of the alien who just admitted he'd betray them. "And I shouldn't kill you why?"

Tribo'lu swung around to face Warren. "Because you vowed you would not if I told you what I know. I have, including that I will report to the Etagllot. I have given you the advantage of knowing they will know."

"Your argument is that since you warned us of your betrayal, you should live."

"If I warned you, is it truly betrayal? The Etagllot will ask the same of me. I walk a thin line; one that I hope will keep me alive."

Warren was silent long enough to hopefully make the curator sweat. A slight but distinct flicker of the eyes told Warren the man's wariness was growing. "Very well. We've been warned. How much time do we have before you reveal us to the Etagllot?"

"I will give you a day. Things happen in museums – unexpected emergencies that delay submitting routine reports. I suggest that you lay in your best speed to Tchutchka Centrus. The Etagllot have many operatives."

"I want a copy of all your files," Warren demanded.

"That request I cannot fulfill."

"Are they worth your life?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't, I said I cannot. The files will self-erase if anyone attempts to copy them. Etagllot technology – I have no control or any override abilities. I can enter information only. A price I paid for my life once before."

/ Volu? /

/ Yes, Poda. /

/ The curator has files on his computer that contains information we want. He claims they will self-erase if anyone attempts to copy them. Can you bypass that security? The files are under Nexus One and Enigma, security code Peka'lu. /

/ Working. /

Ettwanae caught Warren's eyes and pointed up with one finger. He nodded. Eshaar'ne were designed to retrieve data from worlds across the galaxy. If anyone could get through the firewalls, Volu could.

"I choose to believe you, curator. This Tider, he knows where the Etagllot keep their artifact stashes?"

"If anyone does, he does. He also knows a great deal about the search and many of the searchers. If you reward him appropriately, he will reveal much."

"As in credits?" Ettwanae asked. They had no money.

Tribo'lu cocked his head. "Yes and no. Tider deals in information. A broker of sorts. Sometimes he will accept a like-kind exchange." The grin that crossed the curator's face was not comforting. "If you two get anything from him, it will surprise me. He detests novices."

"Anything more we need to know about Tider?"

The Wynnaran was hesitant. Warren leaned down to the man's small ear. "Don't make me ask again," he warned, low and threateningly.

The curator stiffened and sniffed. "Beware of his shop assistant. She is far more than she appears. Several have died at her hands when they foolishly threatened Tider."

Warren righted himself. "This Tider better be worth the trip, Tribo'lu. If not, I'll be paying you another visit to express my displeasure."

"He is, if you can pay. Searchers of worth go to him for what he knows. That's what keeps him alive – people need him to know things. It serves everyone that Tider remains alive and well."

Warren eased around to the front of the desk. "That doesn't make sense. Certainly the Etagllot, or Dark Ones, or somebody could just steal everything he has and kill him."

Tribo'lu smiled a patronizing grin. "That just proves my point about how naïve you are. The two of you have no concept of the game into which you are entering."

"Then I guess we need to get educated, as you said. Starting with Tider."

"If you have no information of interest to him, make sure you are able to pay to satisfy your appetite. Tider's knowledge does not come inexpensively."

Warren leaned over and rested his hands on the front of curator's desk, watching for signs of deception. "Is there anything more of substance you can tell us?"

"No. Tider is your best source."

Warren righted himself. The man was being truthful from what he could read of the body language, vocal tones, and other typical indications of deceit, if those signs held for Wynnarans. 'Sure could use a telepath right about now,' he lamented. Without one, he'd go with his instincts. "Then we are done here. You live."

Ettwanae got up and moved to stand next to Warren. "Thank you, Tribo'lu, for your cooperation."

The man smiled oddly at her. "I only hope that I survive my cooperation." As Warren and Ettwanae turned to leave, the Wynnaran spoke again. "I just wonder what a Sat'rey female and a member of Ztar's Court have in common?"

Warren stopped in his tracks. Tribo'lu recognized him after all, even without the wings. He hadn't wanted that revealed. 'Damn trial coverage!' He'd not let on to the curator that the man's revelation had rattled him. Glancing back, he locked eyes with the curator, and smirked. "Lust."

At first, the man looked surprised, then he let out a loud laugh that rang through the office as Warren and Ettwanae continued to walk. Then just as they were about to exit the display room, a roar reverberated throughout the museum, much louder than one would expect to erupt from the diminutive Wynnaran.

"NO! My files! Years of data! No, no, no! What have you done? Damn you! Damn you-u-u!"

Warren and Ettwanae quickened their pace to a trot as Tribo'lu's curses followed them out the exhibit room and toward the main entrance. "I'd guess that Volu tried to copy the files," he ventured as they burst out of the museum at a full run.

"Shall I assume we forfeited our one-day lead time?" Ettwanae questioned as they dove into the waiting ASurT.

"Safe assumption."

/ Volu, success? /

/ Some. I will explain more when you are safely here. /

Both were lost to their own thoughts for most of the hurried ride back to Volu. As they left the city, Warren slid a look at the woman whose closeness was beginning to become uncomfortable. Surprisingly, the urges had held off during their mission and he thanked whatever was responsible for that bit of good fortune, but now sitting beside her, their mission over…

She finally glanced his way and smiled sweetly. 'Oh, Jesus, don't do that!' he groaned in secret.

"That went very well! I could never have gotten Tribo'lu to talk the way you did."

"You have to find the right persuasive technique for any given situation. I felt intimidation would work on the curator. Sorry, if that offended you."

The answering shake of her head caused the golden hair to move sensually around her face and his body began its familiar response. 'Stop it, Worthington…' he warned himself.

"It did not. As you said before, we must do what is necessary. You didn't hurt him, just made him think you might. You'd never really hurt him, but Tribo'lu didn't know that."

He only nodded. He wouldn't tell her that if he had to, he could hurt someone…badly. 'For now, let Ettwanae live with whatever preconceptions she might have. The truth will be revealed soon or later.'

###

Once safely out of the Jandur System, the group gathered for a debriefing and everyone was brought up to speed.

"So we's off to Tchutchka?" Flint said, popping a candy of some sort into his mouth. The kid subsisted mostly on alien junk food as far as Warren could tell.

"Yes," Ettwanae confirmed.

"How long 'fore we're there?" Flint wondered crunching noisily on his sweet treat.

"At my best speed, 7.3 standard days."

Warren groaned internally… seven lo-o-n-ng days…

"This information broker does offer new possibilities," Gatebi ventured. "We may learn much from him. That is what has held us back in the past – lack of information."

"As long as we can pay for it," Warren reminded. "Or extract it by other means."

Flint sat upright at that. "You leaned on the museum guy, didn't ya? I knew it! God, wish I'd been there – shoulda been there. With Tider, War, the girls stay on Volu. Safer. Then you and me, we can do what needs to be done, ya know? Tider won't fuck with us. And if he does…well, all I can say is fire convinces people real fast!"

'Sometimes, Flint isn't the brightest spark,' Warren thought to himself as he watched the expressions on the faces of "the girls." Ettwanae had frowned and crossed her arms in a very Human-like gesture of perturbedness and Gatebi's scowl would have frightened off a rabid pit bull. In stark contrast, Flint was displaying a humorous mix of male swagger and hopeful eagerness as he looked to Warren.

"Gatebi and I are hardly children, Flint!"

Warren didn't feel like listening to a squabble. Raising his hand, he offered an explanation. "A translation error. 'Girl' has a different meaning in our native language than how it translates to Turzent. It's slang for young woman." Ettwanae and Gatebi's eyed him with some suspicion. "Universal translators aren't perfect. And," he continued when Ettwanae opened her mouth to undoubtedly object to Flint's other faux pas, "I'll decide who meets with Tider just before we go down. It's not a discussion item for this meeting."

Warren's assumption of leadership from Ettwanae included making decisions that potentially left no one happy. One of those minor moments had just occurred. Might as well acknowledge it and move on. "Now that everyone is pissed off at me, let's hear from Volu. What were you able to retrieve from Tribo'lu's computer?" The Eshaar'ne had been surprisingly quiet thus far. That left Warren curious.

"The curator's computer was unusually well protected and it took me much longer than typical to break through. I have not previously encountered technology as sophisticated, which raises questions as to its origins."

"Tribo'lu said it was Etagllot handiwork."

"That is a possible explanation, Warren." The Eshaar'ne sounded dubious. "Despite the advanced safeguards, I was able to retrieve some data before the self-erasure routine destroyed it. The curator had an extensive collection of information regarding the search for Etxan'Ir. My focus was on data concerning the nodes or Etxan'Ir. I found nothing to indicate he knows the location of either. Failing there, I proceeded to upload, but the AI instantly began destroying files. The eradication routine was quite robust, affecting all areas simultaneously. If not for my advanced techniques, I would have retrieved only unusable fragments." The Eshaar'ne's tone hinted of pride.

"What did you get?"

"Tribo'lu's visitor profiles – searchers inquiring about U'larr artifacts."

"Anyone of interest?"

"One – a visitor many years ago. The first one he classified as an enigma. A mysterious woman unusually knowledgeable in the ways of the Eshaaru, as he stated it. She visited him more than once to sell artifacts of exceptional quality and value."

"How long ago?" Ettwanae asked.

"Eighteen point three standard years ago."

"Did she give him a name?" Gatebi posed obvious the question.

"She did, though it surprises me she would reveal her true name. She and Tribo'lu must have developed a trust."

Ettwanae stiffened and her eyes went wide. "Volu, what was her name?" The Eshaaru's voice was tight.

"T'Qilla."

Ettwanae went white and gripped the edge of the table. "Dear goddess!"

###

A/N: Okay, everyone, I'd really, really need feedback on this chapter. Xrystofer and I need some company. Comments, observations, questions? Have I successfully built suspense? Created more mystery? Revealed enough to keep you wondering about what's really going on?

Next chapter: Want to know more about the Shozen? The Elders? And what is Ettwanae's reaction to hearing her mother's name? Stick around.