Epsilon Zeta IV was a tranquil, peaceful world orbiting a small, G-class
star on the very rim of the galaxy. Although colonists had discovered and
settled the lovely, Earthlike planet centuries ago, normal Federation
expansion was still many years away. Agriculturally rich, the world had
woefully inadequate supplies of the rare elements, or of anything of even
remote interest to the Federation. The people grew enough food to support
themselves, with a little extra for trade, but nothing more. Thus, their
technology was of a high enough level for proper agriculture, but not
advanced, by any criteria. White beaches and blue seas completed the
lovely picture. A perfect choice, indeed, for a quiet retreat.
Gan, Vila and Cally strolled sedately through the square, enjoying the sights and sounds of market day. Farmers displayed fresh produce and tradesmen hawked their wares in the heat of the noonday sun, while the hearty aroma of roasting meat mixed with the gentle fragrance of spring flowers. A perfect day in every respect,
The trio stopped in front of a small canopy where an old woman displayed handwoven capes.
"These are lovely," Cally said, fingering the strange silk like material. "What are they made of?"
The woman grinned toothlessly. "We call it arlex my lady. The plants we make it from grow abundantly here."
Cally swirled the cape around her slender shoulders, twirling slightly on her toes, "Is it not beautiful! I must own it, old one. What price do you ask?"
In the short time they had spent on this world, the Auron had quickly learned the art of dickering, and took great pleasure in the friendly argument which followed. Vila watched her in open admiration. He had always been attracted to the alien woman, and the opportunity to spend some uncomplicated time with her in this quiet, rustic setting was more than welcome.
Cally was not unaware of the thief's attraction to her, and, to her surprise, she did not reject him out of hand. Since joining the crew on Saurian Major, she had been very careful to avoid the kind of attachments Vila had in mind. Friendship, companionship, even brotherhood - these things she welcomed from the others and returned in kind. Yet, she still found herself an alien among these people; they were not Auronar and could never participate in the sharing of the mind and spirit that only another telepath could truly know. A psion among the psi-null, she was ever conscious of a vast loneliness within.
So she found herself, to her own astonishment, actually welcoming the attentions of the thief. Vila could be quite engaging when he chose to be; he was a charming and delightful companion, and, for the first time in a long, long while, Cally began to feel like a woman again. And an attractive woman at that. She had spend so much time as a warrior - a soldier -that she had quite forgotten how good it felt to be desired. She found herself relaxing and enjoying Vila's gentle attentions and humorous teasing. There was obviously far more to the thief than she had first considered!
Gan, for his part, observed all of this with the amused and gentle tolerance that was so much a part of him. He was glad his two dearest friends found such a measure of comfort and pleasure in each other. He hoped it would develop into something deeper, yet knew that even if time proved otherwise, the bonding that they had experienced - that the entire crew had experienced - would never be broken. It was forged of blood and shared danger and welded them into a team with a friendship that could and would stand any test. This Gan believed with all his heart.
Gan wandered on a bit, leaving Cally, Vila and the old woman arguing enthusiastically over the price of the silken cape. Lost in thought, he wandered forward several paces, directly into the path of a small bundle of lightning. Although barely felt, the impact brought the large man up short, and he found himself staring down at a small, blond child of about three years of age. The boy returned the look without a trace of fear, smiling shyly at the gentle giant before him. Gan returned the smile and stooped down to speak more comfortably to the child.
"You're not hurt, are you?" he rumbled genially. "That was quite a jolt you took."
The child smiled again, shaking his head, but before he could answer, a small, red-haired woman raced up to grab him by the hand. "Lar! I've been chasing you for ages!" She turned a brilliant smile on Gan. "I hope he wasn't bothering you, sir. He got away from me." Fondly, "Again."
Gan laughed. "Not at all. He's a fine-looking young man, Mrs...?"
"Shel. Call me Shel." She was a slim, pretty woman with a pair of dancing blue eyes that sparkled humorously when she spoke. "You're a visitor here, are you?"
The large man climbed to his feet. "Yes, we're just visiting. I'm Olag Gan." He turned to the boy again. "And you're Lar. You shouldn't give your mother such a run. You've got to take care of her when your father's not around."
The child looked puzzled. "No. Just Mum."
At Gan's inquiring look, Shel smiled gently. "My husband is dead. An accident."
"I'm sorry."
"No need. It was a long time ago. I.."
"Shel! I told you to wait for me " A burly, dark man burst from the crowd, glaring belligerently.
"Evan! I was just chasing Lar. He.."
"I don't care what you were doing, I told you to wait!" He grabbed the small woman in a bone-crushing grip, shaking her. "Now get that brat and..."
Gan had waited silently, not wishing to interfere in a lovers' quarrel, but this piece of casual brutality was too much for even his peaceful nature to endure. At Shel's painful gasp, he was already moving forward, a large hand fastening itself viselike on a beefy shoulder,
"Let her go." The phrase sounded that much more dangerous for all its quiet delivery.
The dark man froze, shock, surprise and anger chasing each other across his features. No one ever grabbed him like that! With a snarl of fury, the one called Evan turned, aiming a meaty fist at the other's jaw. Gan, however, a veteran of many a barroom brawl, was elsewhere when it arrived. He reached out, snagging the other's arm and belt in an iron grip. Seconds later, a clatter announced the man's arrival in the middle of a nearby fruit stand.
Stunned silence greeted this spectacle. Then laughter, growing as more and more of the surrounding throng took in the sight. Pulped fruit wended its way slowly down the dark forehead, landing with audible plops in the man's lap. Melons and citrus had scattered in every direction, but ever the stand owner forgot his righteous indignation in the humor of the moment.
Gan, however, was not amused. A red anger still burned within him, quenched not at all by this one act of violence.
And Evan... Murderous hatred glittered in the man s dark ryes, growing hotter as the good-natured laughter swelled around him. The dark man came painfully to his feet, wincing at the beginning of a spectacular collection of bruises. He stumbled away, but paused long enough to shoot a sullen look in Gan's direction. It was intense with the promise of future retribution.
Gan dismissed it, but it caused Shel to press fearfully against his side; he draped a protective arm around her shoulders and smiled down reassuringly. "Don't be afraid. He won't bother you anymore." Bright blue eyes turned up to meet his, the fear gradually fading to be replaced by concern, then a tentative smile.
"It's not me I'm afraid for. Evan is a dangerous enemy. He won't forget this."
"Don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself." He loosened the hold, reluctantly, around the woman's shoulders. An awkward silence fell.
Then she asked, "I promised Lar I would show him the musicians in the center square. If you would like to walk along...?"
Gan reached over, taking the shopping basket from her hand, and extending an arm. "It would be my pleasure, madam," he said with friendly formality.
The woman took the proffered arm and tripped along beside him. "If you have time, I'll show you around our town a little. That is, if you would like me to?"
Gan never stopped to analyze the pleasant lurch his heart gave at this. "Yes, Shel, I think I'd like that. I would like that very much."
***
The day was not being wasted by the rest of the crew, either. After much coaxing, Avon had been persuaded to join Blake and Jenna on a picnic in the countryside. They were sitting on a hill that overlooked the little town, the fertile valley stretching before them in all its beauty.
At first, Jenna had been as cool to Avon as was usual, always on guard against his cutting tongue and argumentative ways. But Avon had surprised her, proving himself amiable company indeed. Jenna had noticed a difference in him lately, particularly in his dealings with Blake. Although still wary with them all, he had begun to relax slightly; the biting sarcasm was muted somehow, less hurtful. A subtle humor had begun to manifest itself in his personality, as well as a lessening of the ice- cold defenses he had maintained against the rebel leader at all costs.
Blake seemed more at peace with himself as well. It was not unusual now to see the two men together, heads bent over a game of chess or laughing over a shared joke. Blake had even begun to actively seek the other man out regarding the future plans of the Liberator and the rebellion, as well as on more personal levels. More surprisingly, Avon was listening to him and applying his own keen mind to the problems of the long fight.
Jenna took in the vista surrounding them and sighed. The peace around them was soothing, soporific. Avon unbent enough to stretch out on the soft grass; soon, the gentle rise and fall of his chest testified to a deep, restful sleep.
Blake looked down at him with an affectionate smile that Jenna found herself echoing. "You really have grown fond of him, haven't you, Blake?" she said softly, wonderingly.
The affectionate smile turned in her direction, "I suppose I have," he replied as softly. "Surprised?"
"Astounded!" They shared a laugh. "Honestly, though, when I first saw you two together on the London, I laid odds you would end up killing each other, not becoming friends,"
"It got close more than once." Blake leaned back comfortably. "We've all changed a lot since the London, haven't we? Become closer, learned to trust each other, work together."
"That's not easy, you know, learning to trust, I don't think I've trusted anyone since I was eight."
Blake took her hand, "What happened?"
Jenna's eyes took on a faraway look. "A . friend of my mother. He was her partner on Alpha Tryon. A big man, red haired, bearded - and always kind to me. He brought me presents. Told me stories. And my mother was in love with him."
The clipped sentences stopped abruptly, the faraway look turning inward and grim, Blake prodded her gently. "And.?"
"When my mother was off-planet on business, she left me with him. One day he got drunk and raped me."
Blake straightened, his face reflecting shock and sympathy, "Jenna.."
"No, Blake, it's all right." The response was automatic, harsh. She turned slightly to face him, softening at the expression she found there, "It really is all right, Blake, It was a long time ago, and I've learned to cope with my past."
Blake tightened his grip on her hand. "I can see you have, You're a strong woman, Jenna, perhaps the strongest woman I've ever met."
"You have to be strong to survive. When I was smuggling I had to deal with all kinds -- most of them would sooner cut your throat than pay for your services. I learned to deal with them - had to. I don't have Gan's stolidity or even Vila's adaptability."
"Vila," Blake chuckled a bit, "I don't think I'll ever understand Vila. He seems to simply blend in wherever he is."
"Protective camouflage. It's a survival gift- If no one notices you or perceives you as a threat, you are in no danger. Vila is actually much stronger - more resilient - than you could imagine, growing up as an Alpha grade."
"I haven't always lived on the Alpha levels," Blake protested. "I've spent time on the other levels, worked with them.."
Jenna gave a derisive little snort. "You grew up in a privileged and protected environment, Blake. You've got no concept of what it's like, growing up on the lower levels, both on and off Earth. You've never had to fight for every scrap of food or watch your back every day of your life. You either learn to fight back like I did, or to adapt and 'recover' like Vila. You wouldn't have lasted a week. Neither would Avon."
Blake smiled at that. "Don't count me out so quickly, Jenna. And I wouldn't mention that to Avon."
Jenna tossed her golden head. "Avon likes to think he's a hard man - likes us to think so. I know better - and I think you do, too." She looked from Blake to Avon and back again with a wry smile at Blake's expression. "He's strong, I'll give him that. I can even admire him for that. But he's never learned to recover, Blake. Oh, very little gets through those emotional barriers of his, but when something does, I don't think he can handle it at all."
"I've gotten that impression, myself. I think something - or someone - hurt him very badly in the pnst and I don' t think he ever learned to deal with it. I think those walls are to prevent him from getting hurt again."
Jenna nodded. "He's strong but he's not..." she paused, searching for the proper word.
"Invulnerable?" Blake supplied.
"If you will. He likes to believe he is, but if he was, he wouldn't need those ice-cold defenses of his."
They both looked down at the peacefully sleeping man, then Blake's eyes drifted back to his still awake companion. Jenna was much the opposite of the subject of their discussion. A vulnerable, beautiful woman with a core of tensile steel. In a showdown between the two, Blake would have to put his money on Jenna coming out on top.
And where do I fit in, he thought in a moment of introspection. Jenna answered as if she had read his mind. "You're different from all of us, Blake. More... Oh, I don't know, just more." At Blake's quizzical look, she stumbled on, looking for the right words. "Your strength is different from ours. We tend to concentrate on ourselves - on how we are reacting or being reacted to. You Just seem to... radiate. People are drawn to that, Blake, susceptible to it. The strength of your ideals seems to carry you along as well as anyone you're in contact with. I know I'm not putting this well, but that is how I see you."
Blake looked at her a very long time before speaking. "You're very perceptive, Jenna. More so than I ever realized."
"Surprised?"
"Astounded."
The shared laughter broke the pall of solemnity that had fallen over them. Avon stirred at the sound and opened his eyes wide. "What's going on?"
Blake turned a warm smile o n him. "Time to head back, Avon. It's getting late and we have quite a walk ahead."
The computer expert stretched, then straightened his black tunic with one hand. "We don't have to walk, Blake. We can just call Orac for teleport."
"Come on, Avon," Blake teased. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I must have left it with Vila. he snapped back, then relented before the laughter in Blake's brown eyes. "Oh, very well. I suppose it is supposed to be restful."
"More than just restful," Blake replied cryptically. "Let¹s head back. We've got a lot more vacationing to do before we're through."
***
Gan, Vila and Cally strolled sedately through the square, enjoying the sights and sounds of market day. Farmers displayed fresh produce and tradesmen hawked their wares in the heat of the noonday sun, while the hearty aroma of roasting meat mixed with the gentle fragrance of spring flowers. A perfect day in every respect,
The trio stopped in front of a small canopy where an old woman displayed handwoven capes.
"These are lovely," Cally said, fingering the strange silk like material. "What are they made of?"
The woman grinned toothlessly. "We call it arlex my lady. The plants we make it from grow abundantly here."
Cally swirled the cape around her slender shoulders, twirling slightly on her toes, "Is it not beautiful! I must own it, old one. What price do you ask?"
In the short time they had spent on this world, the Auron had quickly learned the art of dickering, and took great pleasure in the friendly argument which followed. Vila watched her in open admiration. He had always been attracted to the alien woman, and the opportunity to spend some uncomplicated time with her in this quiet, rustic setting was more than welcome.
Cally was not unaware of the thief's attraction to her, and, to her surprise, she did not reject him out of hand. Since joining the crew on Saurian Major, she had been very careful to avoid the kind of attachments Vila had in mind. Friendship, companionship, even brotherhood - these things she welcomed from the others and returned in kind. Yet, she still found herself an alien among these people; they were not Auronar and could never participate in the sharing of the mind and spirit that only another telepath could truly know. A psion among the psi-null, she was ever conscious of a vast loneliness within.
So she found herself, to her own astonishment, actually welcoming the attentions of the thief. Vila could be quite engaging when he chose to be; he was a charming and delightful companion, and, for the first time in a long, long while, Cally began to feel like a woman again. And an attractive woman at that. She had spend so much time as a warrior - a soldier -that she had quite forgotten how good it felt to be desired. She found herself relaxing and enjoying Vila's gentle attentions and humorous teasing. There was obviously far more to the thief than she had first considered!
Gan, for his part, observed all of this with the amused and gentle tolerance that was so much a part of him. He was glad his two dearest friends found such a measure of comfort and pleasure in each other. He hoped it would develop into something deeper, yet knew that even if time proved otherwise, the bonding that they had experienced - that the entire crew had experienced - would never be broken. It was forged of blood and shared danger and welded them into a team with a friendship that could and would stand any test. This Gan believed with all his heart.
Gan wandered on a bit, leaving Cally, Vila and the old woman arguing enthusiastically over the price of the silken cape. Lost in thought, he wandered forward several paces, directly into the path of a small bundle of lightning. Although barely felt, the impact brought the large man up short, and he found himself staring down at a small, blond child of about three years of age. The boy returned the look without a trace of fear, smiling shyly at the gentle giant before him. Gan returned the smile and stooped down to speak more comfortably to the child.
"You're not hurt, are you?" he rumbled genially. "That was quite a jolt you took."
The child smiled again, shaking his head, but before he could answer, a small, red-haired woman raced up to grab him by the hand. "Lar! I've been chasing you for ages!" She turned a brilliant smile on Gan. "I hope he wasn't bothering you, sir. He got away from me." Fondly, "Again."
Gan laughed. "Not at all. He's a fine-looking young man, Mrs...?"
"Shel. Call me Shel." She was a slim, pretty woman with a pair of dancing blue eyes that sparkled humorously when she spoke. "You're a visitor here, are you?"
The large man climbed to his feet. "Yes, we're just visiting. I'm Olag Gan." He turned to the boy again. "And you're Lar. You shouldn't give your mother such a run. You've got to take care of her when your father's not around."
The child looked puzzled. "No. Just Mum."
At Gan's inquiring look, Shel smiled gently. "My husband is dead. An accident."
"I'm sorry."
"No need. It was a long time ago. I.."
"Shel! I told you to wait for me " A burly, dark man burst from the crowd, glaring belligerently.
"Evan! I was just chasing Lar. He.."
"I don't care what you were doing, I told you to wait!" He grabbed the small woman in a bone-crushing grip, shaking her. "Now get that brat and..."
Gan had waited silently, not wishing to interfere in a lovers' quarrel, but this piece of casual brutality was too much for even his peaceful nature to endure. At Shel's painful gasp, he was already moving forward, a large hand fastening itself viselike on a beefy shoulder,
"Let her go." The phrase sounded that much more dangerous for all its quiet delivery.
The dark man froze, shock, surprise and anger chasing each other across his features. No one ever grabbed him like that! With a snarl of fury, the one called Evan turned, aiming a meaty fist at the other's jaw. Gan, however, a veteran of many a barroom brawl, was elsewhere when it arrived. He reached out, snagging the other's arm and belt in an iron grip. Seconds later, a clatter announced the man's arrival in the middle of a nearby fruit stand.
Stunned silence greeted this spectacle. Then laughter, growing as more and more of the surrounding throng took in the sight. Pulped fruit wended its way slowly down the dark forehead, landing with audible plops in the man's lap. Melons and citrus had scattered in every direction, but ever the stand owner forgot his righteous indignation in the humor of the moment.
Gan, however, was not amused. A red anger still burned within him, quenched not at all by this one act of violence.
And Evan... Murderous hatred glittered in the man s dark ryes, growing hotter as the good-natured laughter swelled around him. The dark man came painfully to his feet, wincing at the beginning of a spectacular collection of bruises. He stumbled away, but paused long enough to shoot a sullen look in Gan's direction. It was intense with the promise of future retribution.
Gan dismissed it, but it caused Shel to press fearfully against his side; he draped a protective arm around her shoulders and smiled down reassuringly. "Don't be afraid. He won't bother you anymore." Bright blue eyes turned up to meet his, the fear gradually fading to be replaced by concern, then a tentative smile.
"It's not me I'm afraid for. Evan is a dangerous enemy. He won't forget this."
"Don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself." He loosened the hold, reluctantly, around the woman's shoulders. An awkward silence fell.
Then she asked, "I promised Lar I would show him the musicians in the center square. If you would like to walk along...?"
Gan reached over, taking the shopping basket from her hand, and extending an arm. "It would be my pleasure, madam," he said with friendly formality.
The woman took the proffered arm and tripped along beside him. "If you have time, I'll show you around our town a little. That is, if you would like me to?"
Gan never stopped to analyze the pleasant lurch his heart gave at this. "Yes, Shel, I think I'd like that. I would like that very much."
***
The day was not being wasted by the rest of the crew, either. After much coaxing, Avon had been persuaded to join Blake and Jenna on a picnic in the countryside. They were sitting on a hill that overlooked the little town, the fertile valley stretching before them in all its beauty.
At first, Jenna had been as cool to Avon as was usual, always on guard against his cutting tongue and argumentative ways. But Avon had surprised her, proving himself amiable company indeed. Jenna had noticed a difference in him lately, particularly in his dealings with Blake. Although still wary with them all, he had begun to relax slightly; the biting sarcasm was muted somehow, less hurtful. A subtle humor had begun to manifest itself in his personality, as well as a lessening of the ice- cold defenses he had maintained against the rebel leader at all costs.
Blake seemed more at peace with himself as well. It was not unusual now to see the two men together, heads bent over a game of chess or laughing over a shared joke. Blake had even begun to actively seek the other man out regarding the future plans of the Liberator and the rebellion, as well as on more personal levels. More surprisingly, Avon was listening to him and applying his own keen mind to the problems of the long fight.
Jenna took in the vista surrounding them and sighed. The peace around them was soothing, soporific. Avon unbent enough to stretch out on the soft grass; soon, the gentle rise and fall of his chest testified to a deep, restful sleep.
Blake looked down at him with an affectionate smile that Jenna found herself echoing. "You really have grown fond of him, haven't you, Blake?" she said softly, wonderingly.
The affectionate smile turned in her direction, "I suppose I have," he replied as softly. "Surprised?"
"Astounded!" They shared a laugh. "Honestly, though, when I first saw you two together on the London, I laid odds you would end up killing each other, not becoming friends,"
"It got close more than once." Blake leaned back comfortably. "We've all changed a lot since the London, haven't we? Become closer, learned to trust each other, work together."
"That's not easy, you know, learning to trust, I don't think I've trusted anyone since I was eight."
Blake took her hand, "What happened?"
Jenna's eyes took on a faraway look. "A . friend of my mother. He was her partner on Alpha Tryon. A big man, red haired, bearded - and always kind to me. He brought me presents. Told me stories. And my mother was in love with him."
The clipped sentences stopped abruptly, the faraway look turning inward and grim, Blake prodded her gently. "And.?"
"When my mother was off-planet on business, she left me with him. One day he got drunk and raped me."
Blake straightened, his face reflecting shock and sympathy, "Jenna.."
"No, Blake, it's all right." The response was automatic, harsh. She turned slightly to face him, softening at the expression she found there, "It really is all right, Blake, It was a long time ago, and I've learned to cope with my past."
Blake tightened his grip on her hand. "I can see you have, You're a strong woman, Jenna, perhaps the strongest woman I've ever met."
"You have to be strong to survive. When I was smuggling I had to deal with all kinds -- most of them would sooner cut your throat than pay for your services. I learned to deal with them - had to. I don't have Gan's stolidity or even Vila's adaptability."
"Vila," Blake chuckled a bit, "I don't think I'll ever understand Vila. He seems to simply blend in wherever he is."
"Protective camouflage. It's a survival gift- If no one notices you or perceives you as a threat, you are in no danger. Vila is actually much stronger - more resilient - than you could imagine, growing up as an Alpha grade."
"I haven't always lived on the Alpha levels," Blake protested. "I've spent time on the other levels, worked with them.."
Jenna gave a derisive little snort. "You grew up in a privileged and protected environment, Blake. You've got no concept of what it's like, growing up on the lower levels, both on and off Earth. You've never had to fight for every scrap of food or watch your back every day of your life. You either learn to fight back like I did, or to adapt and 'recover' like Vila. You wouldn't have lasted a week. Neither would Avon."
Blake smiled at that. "Don't count me out so quickly, Jenna. And I wouldn't mention that to Avon."
Jenna tossed her golden head. "Avon likes to think he's a hard man - likes us to think so. I know better - and I think you do, too." She looked from Blake to Avon and back again with a wry smile at Blake's expression. "He's strong, I'll give him that. I can even admire him for that. But he's never learned to recover, Blake. Oh, very little gets through those emotional barriers of his, but when something does, I don't think he can handle it at all."
"I've gotten that impression, myself. I think something - or someone - hurt him very badly in the pnst and I don' t think he ever learned to deal with it. I think those walls are to prevent him from getting hurt again."
Jenna nodded. "He's strong but he's not..." she paused, searching for the proper word.
"Invulnerable?" Blake supplied.
"If you will. He likes to believe he is, but if he was, he wouldn't need those ice-cold defenses of his."
They both looked down at the peacefully sleeping man, then Blake's eyes drifted back to his still awake companion. Jenna was much the opposite of the subject of their discussion. A vulnerable, beautiful woman with a core of tensile steel. In a showdown between the two, Blake would have to put his money on Jenna coming out on top.
And where do I fit in, he thought in a moment of introspection. Jenna answered as if she had read his mind. "You're different from all of us, Blake. More... Oh, I don't know, just more." At Blake's quizzical look, she stumbled on, looking for the right words. "Your strength is different from ours. We tend to concentrate on ourselves - on how we are reacting or being reacted to. You Just seem to... radiate. People are drawn to that, Blake, susceptible to it. The strength of your ideals seems to carry you along as well as anyone you're in contact with. I know I'm not putting this well, but that is how I see you."
Blake looked at her a very long time before speaking. "You're very perceptive, Jenna. More so than I ever realized."
"Surprised?"
"Astounded."
The shared laughter broke the pall of solemnity that had fallen over them. Avon stirred at the sound and opened his eyes wide. "What's going on?"
Blake turned a warm smile o n him. "Time to head back, Avon. It's getting late and we have quite a walk ahead."
The computer expert stretched, then straightened his black tunic with one hand. "We don't have to walk, Blake. We can just call Orac for teleport."
"Come on, Avon," Blake teased. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I must have left it with Vila. he snapped back, then relented before the laughter in Blake's brown eyes. "Oh, very well. I suppose it is supposed to be restful."
"More than just restful," Blake replied cryptically. "Let¹s head back. We've got a lot more vacationing to do before we're through."
***