A/N: I'd like to give a big thanks to my editor, GITM, for keeping me on track.

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For disclaimers, please see chapter one.
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9: 5 August – 11 August, 2001
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Year of the People 21649 (Sunday, August 5, 2390):
Sector 2820, Red Forests, Speaker of Wisdom's tree:
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"Present all? I see not Wind among Leaves," the old male said.

"Forest mother was speaking with her, Wise One," one young cub said as she settled into place for the evening lesson.

"Chide her not I shall when I see her," the grey-furred Wookie said, drawing on a water-skin. He set it aside, and settled more comfortably on his bed-skins. "Others of hunting and fishing have taught you, and how to avoid the various meat-beasts which roam our world, and how the small ones to hunt."

The cubs settled in as he continued, only to be interrupted by a small, brown-furred cub who appeared in his tree-hole, asking, "Miss greatly I have?"

The elder grunted, waving her in. "Again exploring, Wind among Leaves?"

She shuffled nervously, finally admitting, "To see the hoo-man place I went. Stay among the tall trees, I did!"

"Say not against Forest Mother I will," Speaker of Wisdom said. "Fortunate indeed you saw them, as we shall discuss them this star-rise." Wind among Leaves took her place as he continued, "Space travel we have had for twenty thousands of sun-turns, the hoo-mans a few hundred. Yet farther they have gone into the galaxy in those few sun-turns than we have in twenty thousand. Indeed, their law limits their naa-vee to their colony worlds, and their home system, for they are warriors to the marrow, from the youngest cub to the oldest." He gave a rough snort of humor, "One of their sayings most true is, 'Stand not between cub and dam.' Attest to it I can, from my own eyes."

"Warriors?" one cub asked. "Hunters you mean, as us."

"Nay, cub, I speak true. The hoo-mans are warriors, and have been since they stood upright. Every twig and leaf of their society, even those who bear not blade in anger, fight daily, even with a thinking machine, or in the market. They are rich, they are growing still in power, and..." he looked about, "They count the People friends, friends from when we once aided them. Truly, better is it to give self to meat-beasts than to have a hoo-man as enemy."

"Seen them I have," Breaks Branches said. "Break in half by myself can I."

"Perhaps, if without weapons when met," the elder said. "Advise it not I would. From an age of standing, hoo-mans learn to fight and..." he added softly, "to kill." He shifted to look the brash youngster in the eye. "Their honor code prevents killing another intelligent being. Honor, not all have, though guard their own, they do. Attack a youngling hoo-man, if one of their nest-mates does not rescue it, rest assured the dam would. In the history of our world, only once did a member of the People kill a hoo-man." He raised a paw, displaying his climbing-claw. "The hoo-mans left us to judge him, and so we did. We broke his claws and left him on the forest floor, to survive or not, as he pleased."

There was silence broken only by night-bird song as the cubs reflected on this. Somewhat shaken, Breaks Branches asked quietly, "Said you saw of a hoo-man dam defending her cub."

"Accurate, that is not," he replied. "The tale I will tell. Know you of the silver-hides?" There were shudders, and he continued, "My dam had taken me to the ground, when I was younger than you, and know not I why. Two caught her on the ground, I was only able to climb above their heads while she fought and died. The silver-hides were to hunt me, pull me from the tree easily they could, when a hoo-man in one of their metal beasts arrived. She raised me to a branch, killing the silver-hides, and others that arrived to feast. Long she guarded me, until her metal beast was killed, then from it she crawled, and fought on with weapons until they were exhausted. Mortally hurt, she killed the last, greatest meat-beast, what she called a t'rex, with her blade."

Here he paused, reaching behind him to display a sheath, the long blade sang when he drew it, the metal still covered with bloodstains. Looking at Breaks Branches, he leaned forward to rap his skull, saying, "Fought with her mind, she did, until last breath she gave. Cut the meat-beast's ankle-strings, walk it could not." Lifting the blade, he said softly, "This blade she used, the hoo-mans call a k't'na, while dozens of the People struggled to reach her, and lift her to safety." He looked steadily at Breaks Branches, asking softly, "See you why you injure not a hoo-man?"

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Monday, August 6, 2001:
Warsaw, Arrowhead Design, Ltd, meeting room: 12:19 (GMT + 1)
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Vasily Danilov nodded as the Chinese engineer finished. "Thank you, Comrade Yin. It is a great pleasure to know the skinsuit design works well. What of the modifications Comrades Bundy and Wayne requested?"

"The extensions to the waste tubes are simplicity itself," the fellow from Taipei said. "As are the zipper. The emergency helmet will require more thought, as will the backpack design. Our models did not encounter the problems they did in donning it, perhaps because Europeans are physically somewhat larger than Asians. Currently, we are considering a modular design, with the waste tank and pump worn over the gluteus. The suggestion of a military-style web belt to attach equipment to is a good one, we can use that to secure the tank to the waist."

"A modular approach would also allow more flexibility when working, Comrade," Vasily added. "What of the umbilical for support from a fixed structure or ship?"

"Pumping waste over several hundred meters would require much greater pressure. We think it best to simply leave that connection alone, and provide connections for air, power and communications, with a steel cable for structural support. When the valve is opened for the air, it rotates contacts into place which switch off the internal air supply pump, preserving it for emergencies. This will be controlled by an add-on front chest plate, we are also including four twelve-volt power connectors and associated D rings for securing tool lanyards." He leaned forward to glance down the table at his German counterpart, "Did you receive the specifications we emailed you?"

"Ja," the blonde said, "We had a suggestion regarding that. Instead of redesigning the boots with magnetic plates, why not put strip magnets on webbing, and attach them with Velcro on the bottom of existing boots?" She shoved back her hair, adding, "It would be much less expensive, and would attach the user to the steel shelves we have designed." She gestured, "The user clips the shelf into the beam where they need to, stands on it, and does their work. This way, we don't need to design in counter-torque collars, we can buy power hand tools off the shelf, and simply build the appropriate power adapters with a two meter cable."

"Excellent! Thank you, Comrade. Please remember that the gloves are thick, test the connections with a pair of winter woolen gloves," the blonde nodded as Vasily went on, "What of the temporary shelters?"

"The optimum design remains a modification of a cargo container, one six meters long and three meters square," she replied, adding, "They can be stacked as well." She asked, "You reported that lunar rock was easy to cut?" Vasily nodded, and she replied, "Then we suggest a first step of cutting a cavern, if one does not already exist, to the desired dimensions, and running power and life support lines to a separate life support container."

The Chinese engineer raised a finger, "Isn't that a single point of failure for something so critical?"

"All the modules have backup redundant life support modules," Frau Gersten replied. "The primary reason for the separate module is the noise of the equipment. After a hard day, we do not want them trying to sleep next to a noisy diesel generator." Heads nodded in agreement. "We leave the pumps and generator outside, in vacuum where they are quiet, and run the appropriate plumbing outside." She steepled her fingers, "We are also installing a common room, for the crews to eat together, watch television and socialize. Our estimates are that a ten-man crew would take three hours to cut the rock and move the spoil, an additional two hours to move the six modules into position and connect plumbing and electrical, and another two to erect the temporary pressure seal over the mouth of the cave. A day's work, but then they have a reasonably comfortable home, similar to the travel trailers we have all lived in on job sites."

Vasily saying, "Thank you, Comrade Gersten, well I remember those trailers." There was a chuckle as he turned, "Comrade Takei, what of our vehicles?"

"The designs we received were well considered," the Japanese engineer said. "We especially liked the common wheel, a coiled wire design provides both traction on slopes and moderate shock absorption. These are problems that the Apollo rovers encountered. If we can orbit an additional dozen GPS satellites, then the precision navigational problem can be considered solved, although we can still include way points. The navigational software we received from Miss Bundy was excellent, our software people have had to do very little modification to it, that was primarily due to her inexperience with software design."

"Comrade Stossel, the reactors?"

"Very little modification required, primarily due to using helium instead of nitrogen as the coolant gas," the German replied. "The British report having a shipment of used uranium fuel available, we have the reprocessing equipment ready for installation, however, they are insisting on a separate orbital platform for the transfer of the fuel and waste. I think that is a reasonable safety measure, we do not want radioactive waste near tourists."

"Ach, think of the liability," Frau Gersten said with a shudder.

"If Mr. Stossel can get us the expected radiation exposure, we can design an external radiation suit," Mr. Yin said. The German nodded, Frau Gersten asking, "What about a mining suit?"

The Chinese considered, "It would be most cost-efficient to build the hard suits as modular components in a range of sizes over the skinsuit," he said. He was about to continue when Vasily's phone rang.

"Da?" he asked, followed by rapid Russian. He flipped the cell phone closed and stood, "You must forgive me. My daughter Svetlana's contractions have started. I must leave at once for Moscow."

"Best wishes for your daughter," Frau Gersten said. "I hope the baby is healthy and happy." Similar good wishes came from the others as Vasily nodded, quickly leaving.

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Tuesday, August 7, 2001:
London, The Leaky Cauldron: 07:23
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"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," Albus heard, and he turned to see Miss Wayne.

Smiling, he flipped his bar towel over his shoulder, asking "What can I do for you this fine morning, Miss Wayne? A cup of tea?"

"Tea would be appreciated, sir," she replied, and as he poured, he asked, "You seem concerned with something."

She nodded faintly, blowing on the tea to cool it, then finally asked, "Do you remember Malfoy's trial? When Cassidy was there?"

"Indeed I do," he chuckled, "It was most interesting to have not one, but two time travelers testify." He leaned back, "Something concerns you about Miss Yates."

"Yes..." she said, staring into her cup. Albus waited for her, and she continued, "Did you pick up any... thoughts she might have had?"

Furrowing his brow as he considered, he finally uttered one word, "Bronze."

"So did I," she said with a sigh, asking, "As far as I know, we were the only two Occlumens in the court room. Is that right?"

"That I know of," he agreed. "Would you like me to erase or block the memory?"

"I may," she said, sipping her tea and adding a sugar cube. She stirred, thinking. "Do I tell her?" she asked.

"I would not, but I am hardly well versed in the physics of time-travel," he said. "Perhaps you might consult with Mr. Kent regarding this problem?" He looked up as the doorbell to muggle London rang, the Bundy sisters entering. "In any event, you need to get to class, I believe today is Charms?"

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Wednesday, August 8, 2001:
Warsaw, Arrowhead Design, Babice airfield test hanger: 12:19 (GMT + 1)
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Frau Gersten frowned as the crane lowered the habitat module into the large pool. At twenty-five meters across and fifteen deep, it held a few million liters of water. The only substitution allowed had been water for air pumps, all else would be as it was on the moon. The simple mechanical airlocks would allow the volunteer diver inside to leave quickly if necessary. Glancing across the pool, she watched the team handling the hoses connecting to the life support module parked outside the hanger. The crane stopped when the module was submerged to a depth of ten meters, one of the divers reporting, "Minor deformation of the pressure hull. No leaks yet."

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Wednesday, August 8, 2001:
Washington DC, White House, President's daily briefing: 06:58 (GMT -5)
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"Finally, sir, we have indications that the terrorist group Al Qaeda is planning a strike in the US, possibly involving aircraft," the National Security Adviser told the President.

"And?" Luthor asked. "Do you have any concrete indications of anything? Any information of their plans? Any hard evidence, or is this more posturing and smoke from a bunch of Islamic radicals?"

"No, sir, not yet. CIA doesn't have that many agents in Afghanistan."

"Then don't bother me with it until you have something concrete," he said, adding, "Get out."

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Wednesday, August 8, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Ohio, Morton home: 07:51 (GMT -5)
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"Didya hear the latest?" Teela asked. "Old Man Murchison sold his place, I met the couple that bought it. They're from Virginia, he just accepted a job at the University..."

"Really?" Julie asked casually, catching Arthur's eye and raising her eyebrow. "What department?"

"Physics, chemistry, something like that," her sister replied, as Bill lowered the comics and looked at his two older siblings.

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Thursday, August 9, 2001:
London, The Leaky Cauldron: 07:49
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"Oy, there you are, mate!" Sprink said. "It's a good thing we caught you in time," she told Mattie. "Just want to let you know that day after tomorrow, we're going to kidnap you."

"But... I have these reports to read, and studying to do..." she protested.

"Which you can do on Sunday," Amy Johnson said. "We'll help you, but this is a girl's day out. No business, no Ballycastle, no Arrowhead, no Solar Guard. We're going to enjoy London, and mate, you are not going to spend one bloody farthing." She glowered, "Understand that, mate?"

"But... but..."

"Motor out of tune, mate?" Sprink asked. "A full day of shopping, dinner, dancing, movie, and then we go to my place where we... discuss... our men." (She waggled her eyebrows.)

"And what we need to do to fix them, and fix each other up," Amanda said. "Not open for discussion, Wayne. We'll pick you up Saturday morning at your Auntie's place."

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Friday, August 10, 2001:
Grandview Heights, Ohio, Morton home: 23:45 (GMT -5)
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Halfway through the second floor window she'd chosen for entry, Lady Shiva found herself caught. She could breathe, slowly, but she otherwise couldn't move. Before she could think of a way out of the trap, the door opened.

The irony was not lost on Lady Shiva. The summer had left him a little taller, a little thinner and much more tan and blonde than their last meeting, but it was definitely Arthur Morton who stood, wand at the ready, a meter away dressed only in a pair of scarlet and grey shorts. For a little before midnight, he was surprisingly awake. "I mean you no harm. I merely wish to talk," she offered.

Arthur regarded the woman thought to be the deadliest martial artist on the planet. The magical traps and alarms he'd carefully built with his brother and sister over the summer appeared to be working. Closing the door behind him, he warily entered the bathroom. "You know ma'am, the front door does work. Phone does too, even if it's bugged."

"So what now?" Shiva managed to ask. "Do you plan to call the police?"

"No ma'am," he chuckled softly. "We both know they couldn't hold you on their best day and your worst. However, if the feds living across the street notice you stuck there, I don't think either one of us will like what happens after that." After a pause to allow her to digest the fact that he knew they were there as well as she did, Arthur continued, "If you give your word you and yours won't harm me and mine, I'll release you. Then you can come in through the front door like a normal person and we can talk."

Shiva considered it. If he wanted her dead, he'd had plenty of opportunity. "You would take my word?"

"You are who and what you are, but from all reports you are also an honorable woman. So yes, I would."

Shiva knew that trust was a condition for betrayal, yet the thought of betraying him unsettled her. It would, in the long run, be counterproductive. "I give you my word."

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"Tell your people to stand down," he said from the other side of the front door. "There's one in the tree house and another with a clear line of fire on this door." He'd spotted four others, but didn't want her to know that.

Shiva frowned before waving off her people. There were eight, but he shouldn't have seen more than the sniper that was on the Morton property. For someone who was supposedly only a wizard in training, he was showing more competence than expected. There had to be some reason why Wayne liked him, maybe that was it. "They're called off," she said.

"Better safe than dead." After waving his wand around, he unlocked the door and stepped back, the three stun bombs he normally reserved for Mattie held loosely in his left hand. He motioned her into the house and toward the living room couch.

Lady Shiva settled herself deeply into the comfortable looking couch, more to put him at ease than for any other reason. "I'm not your enemy. However, we do not have much time to discuss business."

He perched on the edge of a seat, wand ready but not aimed at her. "That's true ma'am, I'm sure all your enemies are dead. Why do we 'not have much time'?"

A backhanded compliment to be sure, but Shiva smiled in acknowledgment. "For the simple reason that I'm jamming the signals coming out of this house, which is certainly causing alarms to go off in Fort Meade and Gotham."

"Why Gotham?" Julie asked from the doorway, her wand held ready.

"You are aware that the Clan has thoroughly bugged your house, for your protection, Miss Morton?" Shiva asked calmly, adding "As have the FBI and the NSA. President Luthor considers you and your family the key to forcing the starship, and its technology, into his hands."

"He doesn't know Mattie very well, or her family," Arthur said.

"This is true, but then he doesn't know the deeper relationships of her family," Shiva said. "In any case, I owe your brother a favor, and I had a request to make of him. As you no doubt remember, I have a challenge match against Miss Wayne coming up soon. I feel her greatest potential would be unlocked if she had something, or someone, to fight for." She let her statement hang in the room to see what conclusions the young man would draw.

"You want me to be bait," Arthur said flatly.

"Bait for what?" Bill Morton said as he came into the room, shotgun held firmly on Shiva.

"Dad, put that away before you get hurt," Arthur said. A small smile crossed Shiva's face, she didn't move otherwise.

"I may not be a wizard, but my Remington 870 and I would like to know who's in my house at midnight," Bill Morton said.

"Express model twelve gauge, six in the magazine and one in the chamber," Shiva said calmly, "As you learned in basic training at Great Lakes."

"Arthur?" Bill asked his son, who sighed, "Dad, this is Ms. Sandra Woosan, also known as Lady Shiva. We... met in London. Please put down the shotgun."

"Why should I, and it's boot camp, not basic training, Ms. Woosan."

She nodded in acknowledgment as Julie said, "It wouldn't do any good, Dad. She's here in peace at the moment, and we did invite her in."

"What they are very carefully not saying, Mr. Morton, because it would violate their oaths, is that I was hired by President Luthor to kidnap them and steal Ms. Wayne's starship," Shiva said calmly. "My price was a blank Presidential pardon. However, I received a better offer, one in which I think your son might play a vital part, as bait for Ms. Wayne. However, young Arthur there turned the tables on me very neatly, catching me like a fly in amber. I agreed to a peaceful discussion, as I owe him a favor."

"Why should we co-operate with you?" Bill Morton asked.

"For one reason, I think young Miss Wayne has the right of it. It's past time we moved out of the cradle of Earth. Secondly, there is no real challenge left for me on Earth, I want to discuss business with Miss Wayne. However, we need to resolve this challenge duel, and she needs her full potential unlocked. To do that, she needs something to fight for, and your son is one thing she will fight for. Thirdly..."

"Thirdly, she'll kill you," Julie said flatly.

Shiva shrugged, "If she does, she does. I've seen enough death that I'm not afraid of the Reaper. However, that would violate her oath, which is what is limiting her. Thirdly, Mr. Morton, I will give you my personal word that your children are not in any danger from me or mine. My agents have already tested Ms. Wayne, in West Virginia, and reported great potential." She touched her earpiece, "Excuse me." She looked up, "You're about to receive another visitor."

A knock on the door, and Elena went to open it, then squealed, "It's..."

"May I come in?" Superman asked. After Julie waved her wand to let him in, he said, "Hello, Ms. Woosan."

"Hello, Superman," she replied. "We were just discussing Miss Wayne and Mr. Morton."

"Yes, I know. Good evening, Arthur, Julie. Are you looking forward to Hogwarts?" He closed the door gently behind him, "For what it's worth, Mr. Morton, I tend to agree with a good bit of what Ms. Woosan said. If Ms. Woosan is determined to test Ms. Wayne, I'll be keeping an eye out, and (he glowered at Shiva), I will step in if I feel the need. Good enough?" Bill Morton considered this, and lowered the shotgun.

"Excellent. One other thing, and then I'll go take care of the SWAT people deploying outside." The man of steel seemed to vibrate for a second, then handed Bill two small objects. "The small silver disk is a federal microphone, the small black cylinder is a Waynetech bug. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"Um, Mr. Superman, just a minute?" Elena said. "Can I get a picture?" Shiva chuckled as Superman grinned. Elena dashed upstairs, and Shiva asked, "What is your favor, Mr. Arthur Morton?"

"That's like asking an evil genie for a wish," he said with a grin. Sobering, he said, "Mattie's makes enemies when she doesn't have to, because she's convinced they won't pay attention to her because of her age. She won't listen to me regarding that, can you... talk to her?"

"I'm not evil, I'm a businesswoman," she said with a smile. "Certainly, when the time is right, I'll discuss it with her. I think she needs to be a little more hard-hearted."

"I would disagree, but I agree, it's a flaw in her makeup," Superman said. "I'll discuss it with her myself, I have a bit of business to discuss with her regarding the JLA." He turned as Elena thundered down the stairs, "Ready, Miss Morton?"

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Saturday, August 11, 2001:
London, Sheila Hawking's townhouse: 08:24
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Sheila opened the door at the knock, "Good morning, ladies. Please come in, Mattie's upstairs fixing her hair, or trying to. The white streaks won't come out, she's trying to be inconspicuous."

"Perhaps I could help?" Felicia said shyly. "I'm rather good at those charms."

"One flight up, left, end of the hall on the right, knock first," Sheila said, "She's only had one cup of coffee, she's still a bit grumpy," she warned with a smile. As Felicia went upstairs, the others were motioned into the kitchen, with the offer, "Tea? Coffee?"

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"So where are you lot taking my niece?" Sheila asked, leaning against her kitchen counter, coffee in hand.

"We thought we'd go visit a shopping centre or three, spend a bit on some new kit, and relax," Karen said.

"When we're finished with her, she'll be able to stand on Trafalgar Square and none will take any notice," Tonks said, her hair shocking green this morning.

"Can you make me look older?" Mattie said, causing several people to jump. "I'm tired of people brushing me off, telling me to 'go play with my dollies'." She seethed, "I'm about ready to say fark this planet." She cut through the people standing there, refilling her coffee mug and muttering, "Being able to say 'I told you so' sounds pretty good right now. Even better from a couple AU's out."

"What's she off about?" Sprink leaned over to ask Anne, who shrugged.

"A Times columnist," Karen said quietly. She raised her voice, "He's an ignorant twit, Wayne."

"I know that, and you know that. Unfortunately, a few million Brits don't," she grumbled, gulping her coffee. "I need to finish getting dressed. Excuse me," she said, walking into a closet, sliding a door closed behind her. Tonks turned to see a large steel door open, and whispered "Gor..." Wayne turned, and finished shutting the door, not before Tonks saw a variety of weapons hanging on the walls. Her sister raised an eyebrow, and she said, "Tell you later."

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Saturday, August 11, 2001:
London, Surrey Quays Shopping Centre: 09:01
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Sprink stopped outside a shop window, asking, "Oy, anyone know about this?" She pointed to a sign reading, 'Coming 23 October: iPod' with a logo underneath.

"No clue," Mattie said, "So, you lot are going to make me over into a respectable businesswoman?"

"So respectable you'll be fit for the Queen Mum," Karen said. Pointing, "First stop, your hair."

------------------------

"Next, please," the stylist called, and Mattie closed the report, sliding it back in her bag. "I'm Jenna, and I haven't seen you in here before. What can I do for you today, luv?" the girl asked.

Mattie tilted her head back, "My hair's too long, and it's a pain in the morning. A nice short, conservative cut, I think. I need to look older. Oh, and I'll need the sweepings, please. I have a bag."

Jenna looked at the next chair, where Sprink had made similar requests, and whose hair was now being washed. She shrugged, "Fine, luv. Pity to cut this mane, though. Lean back, please and let me have a wash." As her client rested her neck in the sinks cutout, she asked, "Why older? Most women want to look younger."

"I sell services, and it's more difficult when you look like a teenager," her client replied. "Ah, that feels good," she sighed as the warm water flowed through her hair, and Jenna's fingers massaged the shampoo into her scalp. She quirked an eyebrow as some white marks started to appear in her client's hair over her ears. Someone with marks like those had gotten some prominent play in the news recently. She massaged a bit more, trying to think how to ask what she suspected. Adding more shampoo, she ventured, "You're awfully stiff, luv. Stressful week?"

"Actually, the week wasn't too bad," her client replied with an American accent. "Friday was the worst, though, a meeting that went sour on me. I didn't really expect that." 'Point two,' Jenna thought, as her client continued, "Not only didn't he want what I was selling, he was rude and abusive." 'Point three,' Jenna thought, thinking of the interview Victoria had mocked on Auntie Beeb's Radio Five Live. "So now you're here for a bit of retail therapy, and a wash and set," Jenna said. "It must be fascinating, though, meeting all these new people."

"It can be," her client admitted, eyes shut, "Most of the time, it's meetings and reviewing specifications and convincing the bean counters that your numbers really do add up that way." She sighed again, as Jenna worked the conditioner into her hair, "That feels so good..."

"One reason we do it, luv, so we get a fat tip," Jenna said jokingly. The client snorted in laughter, as Jenna added quietly, "You're much too young to have grey hair, dear. Would you like a touch of hair colour over your ears?"

The client's eyes shot open as Jenna asked quietly, "It is Miss Wayne, isn't it?"

------------------------

The client gazed at her warily. Jenna smiled cheerfully, "Don't worry about Haversham's column, he's a twit, and Victoria's just playing her slant on it for laughs." She gazed at Miss Wayne, asking softly, "What's it like?" She motioned up, "Up there, on the moon?"

Her client, 'Miss Wayne,' she corrected herself, gazed at her with green eyes that seemed to see into her soul. After a minute, she replied.

"It's different, the sky is deepest black, and the stars are pinpoints of white. You can look at Earth overhead and see the outlines of the land, and the clouds, and on the night side, cities look like giant spiderwebs of white. The planet is different shades of green, fading into a thin blue band, which fades out into black." She paused a minute, then continued, "Everything is in shades of grey. The ground is like compacted sand, your boots only go in a few millimeters, and it sticks like cement dust. There was volcanoes, millions of years ago, so under the regolith is lava. Everything's been battered into grit and small pebbles by millions of years of meteorite impacts, the rock's very soft, like sandstone. The smallest craters are a few kilometers across, with rims a few hundred meters high, but most are fifty or more across, with gentle slopes a kilometer or two high."

She grinned, "Interested?"

------------------------

"You spent enough time talking with your stylist," Karen teased as the group left the hairdressers. "Want my job? I'll take yours."

"With all the interviews?" Mattie shuddered. "No thanks. I've got a proposal for you, though. Want a position as Acting Captain?"

"What do you mean?"

"Anne and I will be back in Hogwarts shortly, and Vasily reports that the basic infrastructure is about ready for the trip up to LEO. Alfred can fly the Yates, of course, but I don't know Vasily well enough for the Captain's slot. I've known you for several years, and you're muggle enough to know how to hold a wrench." She grinned, and nudged Sprink, "Unlike this mangy mutt, who'd use it as a chew toy."

"Hey!" Sprink protested, "I've got to keep my teeth nice and sharp!" She stopped outside a shop, studying the display, then looked at Anne with an appraising eye. "Mate, that teal number would look good on you."

"You just want it for yourself," her sister said as they entered the shop.

------------------------

"As you lot are still underage," Karen said, "Pass me your bags, I'll do expansion and featherweight charms on them. Someone pass me Sprink and Tonk's bags, while they're deciding which jacket potato to get."

"I wonder what toppings they'll get?" Felicia mused.

"If her sister is anything like Sprink, something revolting," Amy Johnson replied.

------------------------

"Horseradish, mayonnaise, and Tabasco® sauce on a potato?" Amy asked, then looking at Mattie, "You know she's nutters. Raving nutters. I'm glad she's in your house, not mine."

"Her sister is worse," Karen said, looking at Tonk's two 'Super-grande' with everything potatoes. "A jumbo coke, too. How the bloody hell do you keep your figure?"

"An active lifestyle, chasing criminals," Tonks replied, taking a healthy bite. "We're still working on several very serious crimes, don'tcha know?"

"Like Malfoy's murder?" Amanda asked. "Good riddance to her. When you find them, pin a medal on them."

"What of the Crown's man?" Anne asked. "The one that groaned when Cassidy and I dids't take the stand?"

"He got his arse in a sling," Tonks reported, "Now, officially, you lot never heard this, you understand, but it was a beautiful bit of gossip. What happened..."

------------------------

"Okay, I am now officially ready to Have Fun," Mattie declared, with Sprink asking, "What, we aren't?"

"You know what I mean," she replied. "I think I'll buy something colorful, like... this scarf."

"Oh, bloody brilliant," Sprink said. "The only billionaire here, and she's spending a whole..." (she checked the tag) £3.00 on a scarf."

"Hey, I spent sixty pounds on a haircut!"

"On your green card," Karen said. "I dare you to walk up to that salesgirl at the till and pay for a three pound scarf with your black card. The one I saw in your wallet. If you do, I'll buy you... (she held up a colourful skirt) this."

Wayne checked the tag, then said, "Deal." Holding the inexpensive scarf, she patiently waited in queue, then handed over the scarf and dug out her wallet as the others edged closer.

The salesgirl blinked, "Ma'am, I've never seen a black AMEX card. May I call my manager?" Wayne smiled and nodded, as a bell dinged, and an older woman came up. Paling, she asked, "Ma'am, do you have identification, please?" Wayne smiled and nodded as she passed over her passport, asking, "Would you prefer another card?"

"If you don't mind, ma'am," and with a sense of relief, accepted and processed her green card. As she walked past Karen with her receipt, she said "Size five, please," and took a seat on a bench outside. As Sprink joined her, she said, "And that's why I'm sending the thing back."

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"Oh, my stars and garters," Tonks said, watching a father walk by with his son. "That is one nice looking man," she added as they slowed to return the girls' look.

"The son 'tis most handsome," Anne agreed, watching them walk.

"I'll agree to that," Wayne said, reaching over to shove Tonk's shoulder, "You're seeing a certain flea-bitten history professor, you know."

"I can look..." Tonks replied.

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