Avatar is the property of people who aren't me. This work of fiction is not authorized by those people.

The team had gathered around the dining table for a light, early morning breakfast while Abe finalized the morning briefing on his tablet. People were still tense after last night's exchanges, but the quiet consensus seemed to be that as long as nobody tried to draw attention to the uneasiness, it would fade away.

Norm noted Natalie's absence from the dining room. He was sure that he had heard her alarm go off in the early morning hours as he prepared Tseyo's breakfast; however, when he went downstairs to give Tseyo his meal, her door remained closed with nary a sound coming from the room. He had asked Tseyo he had heard anything from her, and he just shook his head – mournfully, it had seemed.

Once Abe finished his work, having not put a single item of food on his plate, he sat atop the chair at the head of the table, propping the tablet on his knees in order to give the group full visibility. The tablet displayed a map of the San Francisco area, and Abe began the briefing.

"Most of you are probably already aware of these facts and figures, but let's be sure we're on the same page," he said. "RDA has multiple sites around the city, notably the Alameda Spaceport, the Vancouver-San Diego Railway Control Station, and of course its headquarters."

Abe brought downtown into focus. "The headquarters complex has six surface entrances – two each on Geary and California Streets, and one each on Kearny and Leavenworth. It also has a single underground entrance for the connector rail between the complex and the rail hub at King Street. These seven entrances and one-hundred twenty-eight acres are guarded by twenty-five hundred of RDA's security force, who are mostly off-rotation SecOps. The only place in the country with more security per acre is Capitol Hill."

"This is all very reassuring and informative," Luke said with a snort. "I actually didn't know that it was twenty-five hundred fucking SecOps."

"They're not all SecOps," Abe replied. "Just most of them."

"Oh, well as long as it's just most of them—," he finished with a roll of his eyes.

Abe frowned and continued. "The pinnacle of the campus is, of course, Bay Point Tower, which is also our target. RDA's senior leadership is almost entirely contained on the upper floors, including Chairman Savage's penthouse.

"Your entry point is going to be the loading dock at Geary and Taylor, at the complex's southeast. That will provide you with a direct route to the tower's subfloors. Once you're through the checkpoint, your objective will be to escort Tseyo through the building and rendezvous with me in the executive suites in the central spire – and from there we'll take care of Savage."

Norm raised an eyebrow. "You're going in separately?" Abe nodded. "So you're leaving everybody else to do the heavy lifting."

"Your job is to keep Tseyo alive so he can attest to the abuses of RDA on Pandora," Abe replied. "My mission is to expose the inner workings of RDA. To do that, I need access to my archived case logs; and as soon as a security breach is detected, the archives seal up. Therefore, I need to be in the building before you get everybody worked up."

"Maybe," Norm said as he crossed his arms. "Or maybe you're just going to stroll into Savage's penthouse and offer us up in exchange for your own safety."

His suggestion caused everyone to look at Abe with wary eyes. Abe simply took a breath and said, "Yes, Norm, I could do that. And then once you were rounded up, there would be nothing to stop Savage from simply taking care of me and thus remove all of us from the picture. Does that sound smart?"

Norm bit down on his tongue, but then he said, "Still, you're essentially siccing the security team on us while you'll already be in the building."

Abe cocked his head and said, "I'm trying to break into the heart of RDA's clandestine operations, and you're going to imply that I have it easy?"

"Easier, yes."

He shrugged and replied, "It's a matter of perspective, I guess. Besides, the point of our meeting today is to take some of that pressure off."

"Let's assume they don't help," Norm said. "You've got to give us something more than hope that it will all work out."

"It's a question of speed," Abe replied. He tapped on the map of the RDA complex, causing the rest of the city to fall away while the buildings emerged as three-dimensional floor models. Abe selected the tower at the heart of their discussion. "There's an elevator in the loading dock that will take you up to the first mezzanine, so that should get you through the first section of the building – the heaviest concentration of guards – with no problem. Depending on how fast you can get to the next elevator bays will be the greatest factor in how much resistance you meet along the way. Figuring that out is your task for today."

Abe got off his chair and picked up two of the bags of supplies he and Norm had purchased yesterday, and then laid out virtual reality headsets on the table. "The tower's floor plans come from the last security protocol review board before we left. Additionally, Dawn has been working diligently on writing scripts to mimic security's movements based on the protocols established at that time."

"So they're eleven years old at least," Norm said.

"Longer," Abe confessed plain-faced. "The board I was on finished its work in Fifty-Eight. Furthermore, the board reconvenes every four years, so RDA has had three opportunities to review and make these plans obsolete." He held his hand up before Norm could respond and said, "As I've said before, there's no way I can have this planned down to the last detail. I'm giving you the best possible information I have."

"Planning an operation on outdated information is just as bad as going in with no plan at all," Amy said with a shake of her head. "Is there any way you can get more current plans?"

"Not from here, and certainly not fast enough to translate into a virtualscape environment." Abe looked around the table as silence lingered on, and then said, "If it helps, Dawn and I have run through the environment a couple of times, and this is doable – but I'll admit that it's because I know the building inside and out. You need to learn the route just as well."

The team peppered Abe with questions for the better part of an hour before Matthew asked, "Shouldn't Tseyo be up here with us? He should know what to do in case—," he paused before finishing with, "If he should find himself alone."

"Tseyo's coming with me and Norm today," Abe replied. "Besides, he seems weirded out enough as it is. I don't think introducing him to virtual reality would be helpful." Norm nodded in agreement.

Abe took a few more questions before breaking the meeting, the tone of which fell from skeptical to critical in a short period of time. While the others donned and configured their virtual reality headsets, Norm headed to the basement to get Tseyo.

Norm found Tseyo meticulously grinding dried petals into a powder. Without looking up from his work, he asked, "Is it time to go?"

"Yes," Norm replied with a nod. "You don't need to be painted where we're going, Tseyo. We're not going into battle."

"Maybe not today," Tseyo said, "but it feels like I will be soon. I thought I should start the preparations."

Norm looked at the variety of petals Tseyo had laid out before him, and they appeared to be a standard assortment. At the end of the line, however, there was an element that struck him as particularly out of place. "You're not going to grind up atokirina', are you?"

Tseyo paused, and then put down his mixing bowl and stone. He carefully picked up the dead woodsprite and said, "This came with me for strength and guidance. It can still serve that purpose."

Norm recalled stories about now-extinct tribes in the lost frontiers of Africa, South America, and Asia who were led by their shamans to believe that certain oils and plants could, with proper application, protect the wearer from diseases and bullets. Even as hundreds of people died from war and famine, painted with snake oils, the shamans would simply say, "They didn't do it right."

He then had a sickening transition to the first battle against SecOps. He thought about the hundreds of Na'vi he had rode out with on direhorses into the mercenaries' waiting guns. He recalled the many colors they painted on their bodies beforehand. Had they contained the seeds of woodsprites? Had they believed that they had made themselves immune to bullets?

Norm's shoulder hurt again.

Tseyo set the sacred seed aside, followed by the tools and ingredients of his craft. He donned his exopack at Norm's instruction, and the two then left the basement for the garage, where Abe had finished stowing the minivan's second and third row seats.

"I think this should give him enough room," he said.

"Do you think the windows are tinted enough?" Norm asked. "Maybe we should get blankets to be sure."

Abe raised an eyebrow and asked, "You want to cover him in blankets?"

"To be safe," he replied with a shrug. "At least until we're out of the city."

Abe was quiet for a moment of contemplation, and then nodded. When he stepped out of the garage, Tseyo crawled into the minivan's storage bay. At first he tried to sit in his usual cross-legged position, but Norm instructed him to lie down. "Just for a while," Norm said when he balked.

Abe returned with a handful of blankets. He handed them to Norm on his way to the driver's seat, who then promptly threw them into the back. He grinned and said, "You've been complaining about how cold it is."

Tseyo chuckled and reached out for the blankets, offering no disagreement, as Norm closed the rear door. Abe started the engine once Norm was situated in the passenger seat; and after the seat belts came down, the car's command module went through the same security protocol as before. Then it said, "I see you're using our 'Stow 'n Go!' feature, but my scales indicate that the weight is unevenly distributed. Would you like to take a moment to readjust your payload?"

"No," Abe replied tersely.

"Are you sure? Properly stowing your cargo will improve fuel efficiency and…"

"Shut up!"

Tseyo peeked out from under the blankets and looked at Norm quizzically. He nodded at Abe and asked, "Why's he angry?"

"The machine's telling him what to do." Tseyo sighed, shook his head, and returned to his concealment.

Brushing off Abe's rebuking tone, the car cheerfully asked, "Where would you like to go today?"

"Java House, Modesto, California. Detour from direct route to Interstate Five-Eighty to California Highway One-Thirty-Two."

"Calculating route." After a moment's pause, the computer responded, "This route adds approximately seven minutes to your drive time. Are you sure you wish to continue on this route?"

"Yes," Abe replied as he rubbed his temples.

Norm could not contain his amusement any longer and, laughing, said, "Relax! The car's just trying to do its job."

"Everybody complains about the police state," he replied as the garage door opened and the car began to move forward, "but this is a freaking nanny state."

Before she was even allowed into the main office, she had to pass a credit check, preliminary background check, and verify employment. Fortunately for Jude, she had been building and maintaining false identities for long enough that even the makeshift identity she had set up for today passed the gated community's rudimentary standards.

From there, she only had to wait a few minutes before her unwitting accomplice appeared. "Welcome to Ruby Hill Estates," the real estate agent said cheerfully, hand extended. "My name is Robert, I'll be showing you around today."

Jude smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Robert. I'm Bethany."

"Pleasure to meet you too, Bethany. I'm glad you were able to make it this morning."

"Happy to come," Jude replied. "I need to get situated in the area quickly, and this looked like a good place to start the hunt."

The agent nodded with a broad smile. "I couldn't agree more. We have fantastic properties available. If you don't mind waiting here for just a second, I'll get some information together, and then we'll begin the tour."

"Take your time," she said with a smile, and the agent was off.

Jude's visit had two objectives. The first was to understand her target's surroundings, and the second was to leave her car parked near the guardhouse while it scanned the radio frequency identification tags of residents as they passed through the community's gates. With enough keys collected, she would be able to access to the community at her leisure.

Robert returned and walked with her to a golf cart. It was only an orange air quality day, so a more climate controlled form of transportation was unnecessary. "You said in your transmit that you're from Philadelphia?"

"Correct."

"So what brings you out to the Best Coast?" he asked with a smirk.

She responded with a polite laugh and then fed him a story about expanding her technology futures start-up. "No offense to the East, but you can't plug into hi-tech out there like you can out here."

Robert's tour began with a drawn out history of the area: The Nineteenth century vineyards that stopped producing grapes naturally by the end of the last century; the development of the premier golf course at the center of the community; the early Twenty First century homes that originally made up the estates but, like the rest of the area, were razed in the earthquakes. "With the reconstruction, we were able to rebuild that classic New Millennial design while integrating modern comforts, instead of damaging the designs with unsightly retrofits," he boasted.

Passing row after row of houses built for society's upper crust, Jude took note of the frequency with which people were out of their homes, places where street parking was common, and how often a security vehicle passed by.

They toured two houses before they passed her target's home, at which point they turned onto a side court. "This property just became available," Robert said. "You said you like to entertain people, and this home would be perfect for that."

It would have been more appropriate to call the place a palace. The foyer hosted a grand staircase supported by Tuscan columns, under which one passed into the grand living space, off of which were a number of second-order dens and studies. The kitchen was as large as a small apartment, the basement featured a private movie theater and wine cellar for two-thousand bottles. The garage could comfortably fit six cars – not that anybody would be crazy enough to own six cars.

It was not until they were on the second floor, viewing the master of seven bedrooms, that Jude paid more attention to the surroundings. While Robert was trying to cover up the fact that the house did not abut the golf course, Jude stared out the window at the Schellers' property. The house did not present any obvious security deficiencies – given the occupants' line of work, Jude assumed they took great care to reinforce or eliminate such things – but that only meant it was impenetrable to common thieves and amateur investigators. Jude lived by a simple axiom when it came to security: What Man can create, Man can destroy.

"So, what do you think?"

"It's a contender," she replied. Jude turned from the window and asked, "You said this was going for sixteen and a quarter?"

"As of the last appraisal, yes," Robert said. "This is one of our premier properties, though, and I think you'll agree that the amenities offered here justify the expense."

Jude nodded, gave one more look out the window, and then turned to leave the house. "Well, Robert, you've been a fantastic guide," she said. "I have an appointment up in Diablo this afternoon, but is there anything you could say about it ahead of time to save me the trip?"

Robert went on at length about the bonuses of living at Ruby Hill over Diablo, so passionately that it seemed to her as though he had a personal vendetta against the place. When they returned to the real estate office, Robert gave her a packet of information and said, "One more thing that I hope will make you consider Ruby Hill over Diablo is that, just for coming in, in your information packet you'll find an eight-visit pass to our recreation center – which, as I said, Diablo doesn't even have. You just need to call to make an appointment, and they'll leave your information with the guards at the front gate."

She thanked Robert and then returned to her car in the visitor lot. From the estates, Jude drove to a motel in Dublin where she had moved the bulk of her equipment earlier that morning. She hooked her scanner up to her tablet, and Jude initiated a program to parse and compare the keys she had scanned to identify a master pattern.

While the program ran, she slipped out of the upscale, Sunday casual clothes she had worn to the morning tour and got into a running outfit. In the few minutes it took her to make the outfit change, her program indicated that it was ready to set up a jamming device. Jude connected the card to an adapter, fitted it to the tablet, and let the machine do its work.

In the meantime, she checked her sunglasses to ensure that the installed microcameras were properly fitted and well concealed. The technology, typically reserved for children's toys, was so low-tech and "last century" that most investigators did not bother with it. Jude learned that meant most people stopped expecting professional investigators such as her to use it. In Jude's mind, that made it a perfect surveillance instrument.

Her tablet chimed when the jammer was ready, at which point she donned her sunglasses, disconnected the jammer, and headed back to Ruby Hill. Defying Robert's instructions, Jude had no intention of logging her information – real or fake – with the front gate. Despite Jude's confidence in herself, she felt a knot form in her stomach as she approached the residents' exclusive entrance gate. However, once she held the jammer up to the electronic key reader, the gates opened, and she drove up to the recreation center.

In sharp contrast to the background check she underwent to get a tour of the property, the woman at the front desk gave her a guest parking pass without so much as looking at her identification. Satisfied, if not somewhat surprised, at the ease with which she had gained reentry to the community, Jude went on her run.

Natalie had waited until she was sure Tseyo had left the house before emerging from her bedroom. She did not fall asleep for several hours after their rendezvous the night before, and she was still unnerved by the experience. She was also certain that her reaction had only done more to further confuse Tseyo than bury the encounter.

She had spent most of the night laying awake, running through the evening in her head multiple times, but she found herself unable to isolate what it was that had made her feel so uncomfortable. Natalie doubted that she had serious feelings for Tseyo; indeed, it was the realization that she might be leading him to believe that she was after something more that brought her back from the brink. She was also certain that Tseyo was incapable of having led her on; humans had ravaged his planet, killed his family, and shared none of the qualities that could distinguish someone as a mate.

When she felt she had processed the events of their escape into the virtual "outside" as much as any person could – and as incompletely as she had expected – her mind turned to her first encounter with Tseyo that night. She thought about the blade he had held before her and his almost casual admission about his feelings towards her father. Despite her best efforts, Natalie could not help but imagine Tseyo – the inquisitive, light-hearted character whom she had come to know – killing her father with that weapon.

For all that he said about being ready to kill more people if it meant the safety of his clan, Natalie knew Tseyo was not a born warrior. She had no doubts that he was being sincere, but Tseyo did not have the kind of grit in his personality that she associated with the people of warrior tribes. Yet here he was. Natalie knew his presence here was testimony enough to the way he had experienced humanity on Pandora.

From the gruesome image of her father impaled on Tseyo's dagger – although it was more a small sword in the hands of any human – she imagined what her reaction might have been when she learned that her father was never coming home. Would she despise the Na'vi? Her mother seemed to already.

But of all the emotions that roiled her, the only one which made any sense was anger. Natalie was still upset with the role that her parents played in the events which were the source of such sorrow for Tseyo and his clan. More than their involvement, she was stunned by how dispassionate they seemed to be about the sordid affair.

Natalie had been upset with her mother several times in her not-too-distant teen years, but she always tempered her reaction because of all that her mother was doing to keep them afloat. This was the first time she could remember being upset with her father; and although she wanted to believe that he was a victim of circumstances, and though she was certain he loved her deeply, Natalie was finding it harder to think that she would be as lenient with him as she was likely to be with her mother.

After all, he was in charge on Pandora when the consequences of RDA's misdeeds fell heavy on Tseyo and the Na'vi.

She tried to put these things out of her mind as she belatedly assumed her morning routine. After showering and dressing, Natalie went upstairs to scavenge the remains of breakfast; but first she paused at the sight of her father's team lounging about the living room in virtual reality headgear. The sound-muffling technology of the mask meant that, while they were all likely speaking with each other, there was effectively no sound coming from the group.

The only sound of the in-world living came from Max, who remained at the dining room table, plugging away on a tablet. He was so engrossed in his work that he did not acknowledge her until she approached the table. He smiled and asked, "Did you get a good rest?"

She nodded while she plated some fruit slices. "I decided to sleep in today. All the excitement of the last few days caught up with me."

"I can understand that."

Natalie turned to the living room and asked, "How come you aren't with them?"

"I'm not as eager to storm the Bastille as they are," he replied. Max chuckled and added, "Frankly, I don't know that they're actually all that eager to do it."

She sat down. "Can I ask you something, Doctor Patel?" He nodded. "How long were you on Pandora? Before being 'marooned,' that is."

"Three years," he replied. "I had two more years on my tour."

"Did you ever try to help the Na'vi before things got so bad?"

Max seemed to wince at the question. He hesitated before setting down his tablet and responding, "That wasn't really my thing – for a while. Sure, I sympathized more with the Na'vi than our side, but I was there to advance our science more than protect their society." He looked away, shook his head, and continued, "But once things really got crazy, when it was too late to do anything to stop the worst of it, everybody had to pick a side. I picked the right one."

"Was anybody trying?"

Max laughed. "Yes!" he said emphatically. "You seem big into Pandora, so maybe you've heard of her. Grace Augustine?"

Natalie smiled and, with a short laugh, said, "Yeah, I have all of her books. Her actual books," she clarified, "not just online."

Max opened his hands, as though laying before her all the evidence he would need to make a case about Grace's earnest attempts. "She literally gave up her life for the Na'vi." He shook his head again, and then continued, "And she did it not just to study them, and not just so they'd be comfortable with her poking around at everything, but because she felt like she was responsible for them.

"Don't get me wrong, she was all business when it came to the science. But I think she was the first one to really appreciate their—," he sighed, grinned, and then finished, "their humanity, for lack of a better word."

She nodded. Natalie was the proud owner of a first edition set of Grace's works on Pandora, published back when Pandora was new and exciting for the people of Earth, when its mysteries were far more so. In that edition, rushed to publication to satiate the public's yearning for information about the very literal new world, Grace's writings about the science of Pandora were what one would expect of any scientist – technical, theoretical, and ultimately very dry reading. The only excitement they contained were the acknowledgments of just how much remained to be discovered.

Her descriptions of the Na'vi, however, were more akin to an explorer's logs. They were written hurriedly, with less emphasis on ferreting out the minutiae of their culture, and with the enthusiasm of someone keenly aware of being the first outsider to report on these beings. In time, as the details of Na'vi society were revealed to Grace, her updated editions were edited – whether by Grace or the publishers – to remove more and more of the passion of her writing in order to make the text more scientific and observation-based. The current editions about the Na'vi being published under Grace's name now were dry tomes better reserved for anthropologists than the general public. Natalie had those, too, but she much preferred the first editions.

"Then why was she the only one trying to protect them?"

"Why didn't Columbus care about the Native Americans?" he asked in response. "Because he was there for the spice trade. RDA didn't go to Pandora for the Na'vi, it went for the unobtanium. So it sent people who would go there for the unobtanium, too. You could almost say that Grace was a fluke."

Natalie had not even touched her breakfast, but she had lost interest in eating. Before she could ask Max more questions, however, she heard Vertex barking upstairs. She excused herself and went to her old bedroom, now her father's study, where they were keeping Vertex while Tseyo was in the house – but for breaks outside. When she came into the room, he only gave her a passing glance. His forepaws were on the narrow windowsill, and he was fixated on something outside.

She snapped her fingers, instructing him to get down, and he complied. Natalie walked to the window just in time to see a jogger pass in front of the house. She looked at Vertex and said, "You know better than that."

He looked up at her, his tail still, as if to respond, "So what if I do?"

Natalie knelt down and scratched him behind his ears. "You're going stir-crazy up here, aren't you?" His tail began to wag. "All right, you can come downstairs until Tseyo's home. Just stay out of his stuff."

Norm had allowed him to be free of the blankets for a while, but he remained under them. Even though he might have been speaking in jest when he noted Tseyo's frequent complains about how cold this planet was, Tseyo had been honest each time.

He had taken the opportunity to survey his surroundings, and what he had seen did as much to make him return to the covers as the temperature. Where the hills ought to have been verdant – if not indistinguishable through a thick bed of foliage – they were a sick brown. Wherever there was a patch of green, it looked to be artificial against the dying landscape.

Wrapped in the blankets, as he half-heartedly listened to – though he hardly understood – the infrequent chatter between Norm and T'ngyute, his thoughts drifted back to the night before. Natalie was too kind of a spirit to tell him what it was that he had done wrong, but it was plain to him that he had somehow bothered her.

She had taken his confession about his feelings towards her father surprisingly well, but he thought that might have well been because her father had angered her at the meal. Whatever she had been feeling that allowed her to take his admission in stride, he did not think that was what caused her to disengage so suddenly from their time together in the dream world.

Had he embarrassed her? As they walked through the dancing space, Tseyo had noted the few decent dancers in the crowd of amateurs – even if the Sky People had different standards as to what could be considered a dance, it was plain to him that few people in the dream world were up to those standards.

Natalie, too, had shown herself to be honest when she said she was not the most capable of dancers.

Though it seemed to him that the crowd had welcomed his display, he was keenly aware that there was much about the Sky People's culture that he remained ignorant of. He had worried that he had insulted Natalie somehow. So when the crowd had begun to fill in after having given him the space to perform, he wanted her to feel comfortable with him again; but he worried that his gesture might have come too late.

That he might have harmed his growing friendship with Natalie, who had seemed to show a genuine commitment to him since he arrived in her home, troubled him. As much as Tseyo liked Norm, as much as he knew his overtures towards him were genuine, he knew his teacher had a purpose in mind for their time together. Natalie, however, had no apparent agenda. She wanted to teach him, and she was also open to being taught.

When they returned to the home after this meeting – if they returned, as Norm's tone seemed to indicate when he had described it – he hoped to be able to make up for whatever offense he had committed.

Tseyo took a deep breath as his worries became woven into almost all of his thoughts. When he recalled holding Natalie close, he recalled the night spent with Naw'ngié. Both Jakesully and Norm had explained to him that, even though his journey to this world would seem to take as fast as a night's sleep, that much more time would actually pass; and so he hoped that Naw'ngié had, in that time, found happiness with a mate – the same happiness he had forfeited to come here.

He tried to think about home in broad strokes, about his most memorable hunts and ceremonies, but all that did was to make him think about how far away all those things seemed to be. He worried if any of the people he was thinking about were, in turn, thinking about him, or if he was forgotten, as though in exile. Tseyo saw images of the things he had left behind being gathered and buried in a shallow grave, a ritual given for those who go out on a hunt and, for causes known only to the jungle and Eywa, never return.

It was at this moment that Norm tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "Are you okay? You've been quieter than usual."

"I'm enjoying the warmth of the blankets," he replied not dishonestly. "I'm not looking forward to the end of this journey."

"Feeling nervous?"

Tseyo tried to channel Nakllte in his reply. He sat upright and said, "Yes, but warriors suppress their fears in order to overcome the thing that makes them afraid. I think I'll be able to do the same."

Norm did not appear to be satisfied by his response, but he did not ask outright for him to clarify himself. Instead, he asked, "What has Natalie been spending your time on?"

"Music and dances," he said with a soft smile. Norm raised his brow, and so he added, "She could see that I was uncomfortable in your world, so she's been showing me that our people are not entirely different. It's a lesson I think we – and you – could have benefited from when your people came to my world."

"Some of us tried," Norm replied, sorrow in his voice.

"Some," Tseyo said with a nod. "But then there were those of you—," he looked over at T'ngyute to complete his thoughts.

T'ngyute must have discerned that the conversation had turned to him, as he had shown time and again to be very good about detecting, prompting a brief side discussion between him and Norm. At the end of their aside, Norm said, "He wants to know if Natalie said anything to you after the meal last night."

Tseyo scoffed, "He's her father. He should ask her himself."

"I agree, but I can't tell him you said that – it'll just make him mad." Tseyo just shrugged; and so, with a sigh, Norm translated his response for T'ngyute.

After a few moments of silence, Norm conveyed T'ngyute's response. "When you have children, maybe you'll understand better."

"My parents would never have let me or my sister be angry for so long without their comfort," he said tersely. "Maybe when you start being a father, you'll understand better."

He watched T'ngyute's body tense up. In the reflective stone on the ceiling of the machine, he could see his skin become flush with blood and his eyes widen in anger. Tseyo looked down to see that T'ngyute's knuckles had gone white in a tight fist. Tseyo grinned. Even though he had been honest with Natalie that he no longer wanted to kill her father, he would never feel bad about piling on his scorn.

However, to his disappointment, T'ngyute did not throw a punch. Instead he muttered a reply, and Norm did not translate it. "What did he say?" Tseyo asked.

"It doesn't translate well," he replied. Norm sighed again and, giving him a stern look, said, "You know he didn't choose to leave Natalie, right?"

"That doesn't matter," he said. "He shouldn't be ignoring his responsibilities now that he's back."

"He's trying to make amends for what happened to your people. You don't have to like him – I don't – but you shouldn't be provoking him, either."

Tseyo frowned, taking Norm's words to heart, and then sat with his back against Norm's seat – facing away from both him and T'ngyute. "I'm still not sorry I said it. It was honest." Norm did not offer a response, and the three of them fell silent.

Contentious though the exchange had been, it did manage to break Tseyo from the downward spiral of his thoughts. Now all he could do was wonder how much longer he had to suffer the company of T'ngyute. He was briefly distracted from his thoughts when, through the transparency at the rear of their carriage, Tseyo noted three lights rapidly approaching.