A/N: The seven-day trip to Jandur passes without incident, but we should drop in on our crew to see what's up. I'm pretty happy with how this chapter flows and the interactions and hope you agree. It's a little light-heartedness and a little serious business sort of interlude before we get to Tchutchka Centrus and Tider.

Chapter 22

It was evening within Volu and Warren was hungry. Again. Or still. He was beginning to worry eating was becoming a way to deal with boredom. 'Even your high-speed metabolism may not be able to burn off all the calories if you keep this up, Worthington,' he chastised himself. 'Then we'll see how agile you are in the sky!' But the self-recrimination didn't divert him from his path. A zante and cup of Joe had his name on it. After a stop in the galley, he strode the few paces to the gathering room to relax with his feet up to indulge.

Jandur was far astern. Before leaving the planet, though, Volu had taken them to a remote location where he had gotten some much needed flight time, and it was a huge physical and mental relief, but Ettwanae had declined to join him. She was still reeling from learning her mother was alive two years after leaving her with Bhenra. He tried to convince her flying might help emotionally, but she remained within her chambers. Apparently, Ettwanae didn't benefit from riding the winds in the same way he did and Warren chalked that up as another difference between him and the Eshaaru.

Volu was speeding to Tchutchka Centrus; seven standard days travel from Jandur at her top velocity. Without many distractions, it was proving to be another monotonous trip. They really needed to do something about the lack of entertainment, he concluded. The inactivity could become mind numbing if that didn't change. Little wonder Flint was fixated on the computer games he played for sometimes hours a day, often with Volu as the opponent. The Eshaar'ne apparently didn't complain, though, which mildly surprised Warren. Perhaps she needed a distraction from the tedium of space travel as well. Another tension was building within Warren – his dislike of enclosed spaces. That in itself could undo him before anything else, and it'd been only 16 days since leaving Earth.

"Gatebi," he greeted upon entering the gathering room. The Alcab was in her favorite reading nook outside her chambers. The woman read – a lot. Likely her way of handling the empty days. Brown eyes shot up to meet his and for a moment, Warren detected annoyance, but then she smiled.

"Seeking more comfort than the galley?"

"Yep. This is the end of the zante and I plan to savor every bite with my coffee slowly and luxuriously," he replied with gastronomic grief. The day of last zante was a dark one. Even darker would be the day his coffee supply ran out, but that was a worry for down the road.

"Already?" Gatebi asked, surprise crossing her face. "I thought we would have enough for at least another twelve days or so.

Warren felt his face flush slightly. "Sorry – an addiction." Taking a bite, he chewed leisurely to draw out the experience.

"Mine is Aywai – a tart treat usually reserved for special celebrations. I'll partake any time, though," she offered with an expression that spoke of mouth-watering reminiscing.

He set the zante down. "Do we have any on board?"

"Regrettably, no," she sighed.

"Then maybe we should stock up next resupply."

"Unfortunately, we'd likely need to special order unless we go to Alcab. That's not possible with our…procurement methods."

"We'll figure out a way." Then a light bulb clicked on. "In fact, I have a friend who's in the food business on Sat'rey – Niat. He can get anything and have it delivered anywhere. A quick comm and Niat will take care of the rest."

"Then perhaps in the future…" she let the idea hang, apparently not putting much stock in the idea.

Warren studied the Alcab as she returned to reading. He'd met a few of her kind when he lived on Sat'rey, but only really knew one – Chef Delme. In his research on the species back then, Warren learned the temperamental chef was archetypical of his species. From an Earthling's perspective, Alcabs were humanoid with all typical features in all the usual places. Alcabs tended to be short, usually stocky, with a large-frame bone structure. A bright orange head of hair was the norm, though lighter tones were common, and usually coarse causing most Alcabs to keep it short because of its tendency to be unruly. Skin tone was brown and varied in depth of color by individual. Eyes were elongated and pupiled with the sclera usually a shade of brown ranging from tan to nearly black. Faces tended toward the roundish, noses on diminutive side, no eyebrows, and teeth smaller but greater in number than Humans, giving them a toothy smile. Their hands consisted of five digits, which tended to be short by Human standards, and the feet sported three toes that were in larger proportion to the foot than standard Human. Alcabs did not have nails on either the fingers or the toes. As an aside, he had also learned that bi-sexuality was common.

Gatebi was very typical Alcab. Her eyes were mid-tone brown as was her skin. The shock of bright orange hair was in need of a trim. As she sat draped across the lounge chair, legs over its arm, he figured by her species' standards, she was likely attractive.

'Now's as good a time as any,' Warren told himself, taking a sip of coffee. He'd held off talking with the bookish woman, heeding Flint's warning that her reasons for being taken by the Etagllot were mysterious and a sensitive topic. Warren had felt it might be helpful if they got to know each other a bit before he approached that subject. Still, he needed to know if she had abilities that may be useful or a hindrance.

So with some reservations, Warren jumped into what could be a touchy issue. "Gatebi, do you mind if I ask you what may be an uncomfortable question?"

Her eyes met his, a wary expression immediately following. "What might that be?"

"Why the Etagllot kidnapped you."

Darkness swept over her face and she visibly stiffened. "I cannot tell you – I don't know."

"Yet you were taken to a facility where they were gathering those with extra-ordinary talents. We know why Flint was there. What is your talent?" he pressed, choosing to overlook her claim of ignorance.

"I have no extra-ordinary talents, Warren, and no idea why they took me."

The tone carried with it the unspoken order to drop the subject. Warren could either press further and risk Gatebi's anger, or he could let it go. If she truly was a mutant and as yet unaware or in denial, it could potentially put them at risk if her power manifested uncontrollably at the wrong moment. Perhaps a plea to her pragmatic side would gain him some footing.

"Gatebi, I've been around people like Flint and myself most of my life. Often, our kind is unaware of the gift genetics has given us until the ability activates. Sometimes, that gift frightens the receiver to the point of denial. Yet it is nothing to fear as long as we gain control over it. Uncontrolled talent, though, can be dangerous to the possessor and those around them." She was smart; Gatebi would figure out where he was going with the thought. He watched carefully as she mulled over his words.

"Warren, you have no reason to be concerned. I have no such gift. Honestly, I do not know why the Etagllot took me other than it was a mistake."

He sighed to himself and decided to back off. "If your assessment should change, just know that I am here to talk."

She swung her legs to the floor and stood. "A snack is a good idea. I'm going to the galley to see what appeals," and she disappeared out the door. It was quite obvious hunger had nothing to do with why she left.

Warren frowned. 'Why else would the Etagllot want her? What was it about Gatebi that garnered their attention?' Grabbing up his mug, he considered options as he sipped. "Volu?" he prompted aloud.

"Yes, Warren."

"Do you know why the Etagllot wanted Gatebi?"

The Eshaar'ne hesitated. "She says she does not know."

"That's not what I asked."

"The Etagllot have an agenda, Warren, but what that is remains undisclosed."

Volu was tiptoeing around. "You're dodging the question."

"I assume they wanted her because they believed her to be of worth to their purposes." The voice held just a hint of irritation.

"Is she?" Again, the hesitation.

"Without knowing their purposes, I cannot answer that question."

'Oh, she's good!' Warren silently complimented. He washed down another bite with a swig, enjoying the flavor blend of sweet pastry and the hot, slightly bitter brew. "Volu, please. Let's stop the verbal dance. Do you or do you not know if Gatebi is an Alcab mutant?"

"And if I did know, what would you ask next?"

"What her ability is." Warren allowed the Eshaar'ne to lead him away from the initial question.

"And then?"

"If it's dangerous and whether she has control over it."

"You are concerned for your safety?"

"If she has uncontrolled ability, that could be a potential threat, so yes."

"I have seen nothing to make me fearful of Gatebi."

The conversation was getting him nowhere fast. "You're not going to tell me anything are you, Volu?"

"If Gatebi has something to tell, that is her decision, not mine."

Warren nodded. "Sorry, Volu. You're right," he realized aloud. Any disclosures should come from Gatebi, not from others against her wishes.

"Apology accepted, Warren. Now perhaps you will answer a question of mine."

He took a sip of hot beverage. One thing he loved about the Empire – their cups and glasses kept hot liquids hot and cold liquids cold. "Fire away, but I reserve the right to not answer as well."

"Understood. Why were you on Hydeera?"

He smiled. Of course she'd want to know that. The Emperor and his companion in the midst of a dangerous raid? It would make no sense whatsoever. "Well, Volu, there's one thing you need to understand about our Emperor…Ztar can be pigheaded and tenacious. He is still a warrior at heart when it comes to rooting out the enemy, especially when that enemy threatens someone he cares about. Reason and logic aren't arguments he necessarily listens to under those circumstances. He wanted to be in on the raid and that was that."

"So it was Emperor Ztar's decision that you were there?"

"Actually, I finagled myself along. He was adamantly against it – at least at first. Then somewhere between Sat'rey and Hydeera, he changed his mind. Me shocked by his about-face would be an understatement."

"And so you and the Emperor joined one of the assault teams?"

"Yes."

"I cannot see how the risk could be justified."

"You, me, Generals Gtar-Cro and Rehsaw, and many others would agree with you. But that's Ztar." Warren smiled at memories of how obstinate the man could be at times.

"Can I assume when you say the Etagllot threatened someone he cares about, you are referring to yourself?"

"That would be correct." He grabbed the last bit of zante and popped it in his mouth.

"How were you threatened?"

"They kidnapped me and Ztar to get the nannites," he managed to get out around chewing.

At that precise moment, Ettwanae walked through the door, eyes wide. "Kidnapped? Who kidnapped you and the Emperor?"

"Warren was telling me why he was on Hydeera. It seems the Emperor insisted on participating in that operation and Warren persuaded Ztar to allow him to go along. That is the only reason you saw him that day, Ettwanae."

Ettwanae daringly plunked herself down next to Warren and leaned into him. "Meant to be," she said giving him a coy smile. It was nice to see a twinkle in her eyes after several days of being down in the dumps. "You had a zante. I can smell it. You know I hate you for that addiction. I'm getting one – be back." She jumped off the lounger and headed toward the door. "Then you'll tell me about the kidnapping."

Warren felt a blush of guilt. "Ettwanae, the zante are all gone. Sorry."

She whirled around, her right wing nearly knocking a Sat'rey urn off the side table. "Gone? We should have had enough for another two weeks!" she pointed out, putting hands on her hips. "How you could have eaten them all?" she accused with narrowing eyes.

He apologized again sheepishly. "Are zante more important than knowing who kidnapped me?" he attempted to redirect with feigned hurt.

"Who kidnapped Warren?" Flint demanded as he charged in, sliding past Ettwanae who was partially blocking the door.

The small ship offered little privacy and he was learning no one aboard was hard of hearing. Warren noticed the teen didn't attempt to miss the wing guaranteeing it brushed tightly against his bare arm as he smirked. 'Teens!' Warren shook his head as Ettwanae snapped her wings close but otherwise ignored the touch.

"Forget about the kidnapping. Warren ate the rest of the zante. He gets me addicted and then eats them all."

The accusation flew, but Warren detected mirth beneath. 'She's enjoying this,' Warren thought. He sat back and took the ribbing. "It's not like they weren't here before I came on the scene."

"They were, but I didn't really care for them all that much. But with your coffee – it's the perfect combination. Now they're gone because someone apparently can't control his addiction."

Now she had his rapt attention. 'That explains the missing coffee!'

"Yeah, War. What's with that? You'd think you was alone on this boat. No consideration, that's what I say, right Twae?"

"What's this about my coffee?" he glared at Ettwanae with mock ire, ignoring Flint.

"Flint, for all that is the goddess, my name is Ettwanae." Flint rolled his eyes. "But you are right about the zante. Very inconsideration," she said stepping close to Warren, leaning down, and spreading her wings in a show of pretend irritation. "What do you have to say for yourself, Warren Worthington Number Three."

"It's Warren Worthington the Third," he chuckled, noting she had completely ignored the coffee accusation. "I profusely apologize and am utterly ashamed," he offered putting on an abashed face.

"As you should be!" she huffed. The frown of disapproval on her perfect features made him grin widely and his gut quiver. "Yet, I'm a forgiving person. Sharing your coffee is fair compensation."

Almost without being aware of what he was doing, Warren reached out and pulled off her feet and right into his lap. He clamped his mouth on hers for a power kiss, then returned her to her feet just as quickly. The flustered look on her face was so-o-o worth it. "That's my apology, in case you missed the point."

Flint was laughing hysterically and Warren was pleased with himself – it felt good to be playful despite the risks inherent in the shenanigans. To his great surprise, libido remained quiet. Ettwanae straightened her clothing and collected herself almost prime and properly, much to Warren's amusement.

"Okay then. Apology accepted." Then she sat down on one of the other seats. "Now tell us who kidnapped you."

Flint got settled, ready to hear of adventure.

Gatebi strolled in. "Volu says it's story time. May I join you?" she asked, perching herself across from Flint.

Warren smirked at the scene. "Are we all here now?" he asked rhetorically as he reminded himself to make a slight adjustment to the story and edit out the nannites. He'd allow everyone to believe the Etagllot wanted him and Ztar as mutants.

"That's obvious, War. Get to the story. Who nabbed you and Ztar Almighty and how'd ya escape?"

He settled back, downed the last swig of coffee, and began. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…"

"Hey! Star Wars." Flint jumped in. Gatebi and Ettwanae exchanged puzzled looks.

"The children must be quiet or no bedtime story!" Warren teased and was rewarded with giggles and groans. He proceeded to weave the tale in all its action-packed glory for his spellbound audience.

###

The feathered head crest of the man seated in front of him rose slightly; a sign Den-neer recognized as piqued curiosity. "These visitors, they are of considerable means? Many of my wares are of great worth."

"Your alternate currency is information. They can pay you with something other than imperial credits."

Tider eased back from his ornately carved desk made of a rare wood-like material from Trapia. The artisan had endowed the medium with many icons associated with Raisilian fertility gods, most evident being the basic form of the desk as an inverted triangle. When Tider saw and understood the embedded message and symbolisms, he had to have it. The unique piece of functional art cost him a small fortune. "Information comes in two forms. That which can be sold and that which cannot. Which do they offer?"

Den-neer moved his hand caressingly across the edge of the desk as if admiring the sensual artistry. Tider was no fool. "That is for others to determine. I am but a simple messenger."

Tider tilted his head in mild amusement. "Den-neer, you are as far from a simple messenger as I am from a street vendor. If you say the knowledge has great value, I do not doubt – you have not yet deceived me."

The "not yet" wasn't lost on Den-neer, but he accepted it for what it was – Tider distrusted everyone but himself, and even his self trust only went so far. "And I speak truthfully now. You will do well to not allow them to leave without a transaction, preferably the specific transaction they seek."

Tider regarded Den-neer with a contemplative gaze, absentmindedly twirling a PI chip with a taloned finger. "If I were a daring man, I'd ask for whom you carry messages, but since misdirected curiosity in my business can mean an abbreviated existence, I resign myself to wondering only."

Den-neer smiled. While he could not read the Ptakan's mind, he knew much about Tider's knowledge of those involved in their very serious game hide-and-seek. If Den-neer had to guess, it would be that Tider believed him Etagllot. Logical. Yet Tider had but bits and pieces, not quite enough to form the full picture. And so it would remain. Those Den-neer reported to would see to that. Tider was just another tool in a competition of many levels, pieces, and players. He himself was but a pawn and from which much was withheld, but he understood that. Acceptance of the limits of his role gave him an advantage. Tider on the other hand…

For this move, Tider's assistance was required and Den-neer would play the game skillfully to ensure the Ptakan made all the right moves. "Life is rife with mysteries; most will never be solved by those as lowly as we."

Tider expressed agreement with a click of his tongue. "So true, but the mystery solvers need those like us who excel at gathering clues."

"And excel at charging inordinate finder's fees!"

At that, Tider laughed heartily. "Everyone is entitled to earn a living." Then his face turned serious. "These visitors, they are expected soon?"

"I am less than one day ahead."

"And how will I know them?"

"They will ask you for the location of the missing Zramynian System memory nodes."

Tider's eyes widened and his crown raised high. "The Jandur nodes? That theft shocked everyone! My comlink chimed for weeks. Who? How? General consensus was The Dark Ones. Who else could have the ability to snatch such a prize from the Etagllot? If that's what your visitors seek, I can offer little but rumor and speculation. I have no idea where they were taken."

Den-neer held Tider's stare until the man blinked and looked away. "Do not play me for the fool," he said with such coldness that the Ptakan visibly shuddered. Tider had experienced once before the pain Den-neer could inflict. Once was usually enough to ensure future cooperation.

"Well, I- I may have heard something…" Stone-cold silence filled the room as Tider obviously struggled with admission. Den-neer's stare did not waiver. Tider's crest flicked several times, a sign of intense nervous. "Very well," the confession came with a chattering sound, the equivalent of an exasperated sigh in some other species. "I do have information, but no way of verifying its accuracy. My source is reliable, but I cannot vouch for her source. It is hypothesis."

Den-neer dipped his head once in acceptance. Elder Phai told him a possible location was leaked to Tider through another operative. Den-neer's orders were to insure Tider passed along that intel to one individual and one individual only. Why his superiors didn't go after the nodes themselves, he did not question – it was not his place. They wished the Eshaar'ne acquire the prize herself was all he needed to know.

"Information of that nature is singular and thereby not available for repetitive distribution, am I correct, Tider?" Den-neer didn't wait for a response. "I am not an experienced purveyor such as you, but in my small opinion it seems logical that once that unique information is sold, it can no longer reside in your inventory." Den-neer removed all expression from his face and waited, confident that the broker understood the implications.

To Tider's credit, he took the innuendo without flinching. "It is rare that I come into possession of such a commodity, but yes, you are correct that this particular item fits into that category."

Den-neer smiled all too pleasantly. "Then we have a shared understanding of the situation."

The Ptakan leaned toward Den-neer. "We do. As long as the visitors make appropriate payment, they will acquire what they seek. As you say, the article is unique, and the price reflects of its value."

Den-neer could have inferred dire consequences if the broker failed to give up the information regardless of the buyer's ability to pay, but that's not how his superiors managed Tider. They wished him to operate independently. Others may discover the identity of marionette's puppeteer and cut the strings. The fewer strings, the less chance of detection. No, they'd allow Tider to sell the intel and that meant the visitors had to pay the hefty price.

"These buyers are unique themselves, Tider. You may not see that at first, but scan the male and take him at face value. The female is not as she appears. The male and female are a pairing." Tider was transfixed on Den-neer and it was obvious the broker understood something important was being revealed. Den-neer moved his body into a subtly threatening posture. "Uniqueness is a valuable quality in your business, but I believe you understand that certain commodities are previously spoken for and not available for acquisition and resale." Tider's expression had gone from intrigued to guarded, but he said nothing. The powerful telepath so wished he could peek inside trader's mind, but the block was impenetrable. However, he was confident Tider understood that the visitors were not be to taken as saleable commodities. "And now I must be going. Expect the buyers within a standard day."

As Den-neer stood, he had one more suggestion for the Ptakan. "They are new to the game. Lessons may be required, particularly lessons that aid their longevity."

Tider was taken aback. "Novices? I'm to sell a commodity of that value to novices?"

"They can pay the price. That is all that should concern you."

Tider grumbled under his breath. "Lessons are extra." Then he looked down at his PI as it chimed notice of an urgent comm. When he looked up, Den-neer was gone.

###

The following morning, Warren remembered it was time to check in with Charles as he promised his old friend. Volu voiced continued concerns over tapping into the interstellar comlink and fully activating the PI. It took a little persuasion, but she finally agreed Warren could use his PI for a short conversation. Prepared to leave a message, it was pleasantly surprised when Charles answered.

"Warren! I've been anticipating your call for a couple days. Is all well?"

"It is. Hope you weren't worrying too much. Is this a bad time?"

The elder man shook his head. "Not at all. I was just reading an interesting scientific report on some anomalous readings detected from the center of our galaxy. The data from the supermassive black hole located there has scientists scratching their heads. Naturally, the time difference between when the activity occurred and when we detected it here on Earth is great, about 25,000 years, so this is very old news. But enough of that. Have you made progress in your search?"

"Some. The trip to Jandur was worthwhile. Apparently, there is a sort of game afoot in the search for Etxan'Ir, and the playing field is quite full. We're heading to a planet called Tchutchka Centrus for a visit to a man who supposedly is the source of information associated with the great library. We arrive tomorrow."

Charles leaned toward the comlink screen and Warren saw curiosity in the face. "Can you share with me what you've learned?"

Over the next few minutes, Warren brought his former mentor up to date. All too quickly, it was time to end the comm. After the PI screen went black, Warren leaned against the wall that served as a headboard for his bed. Pangs of homesickness swept through him. He was beginning to miss everyone. Miss his life. Miss Earth and her skies. All familiar feelings – too familiar. Painfully familiar.

Memories and emotions of being ripped from Earth by Ztar all those years ago welled up. Not once, but twice he was snatched away from his life and home by the alien ruler. The second time around, though, wasn't nearly as traumatic. He'd known it could happen and had prepared for it as best he could, while praying it would not.

Once again, he was far from the only world that was home, but this time of his own choosing. That would not change the missing, and it was the price to be paid for a chance to free himself of the nannites. He fervently hoped Etxan'Ir lived up to its reputation and held the knowledge to cleanse him. 'And if it doesn't? Or if you can't find the library? Then what?' The questions taunted. 'At least you could say you tried – exhausted all possibilities,' he answered. 'But a consolation prize was perhaps in the offing. If I fail on one count, perhaps I can succeed on another. A long shot, true, but perhaps Warren Worthington can get the girl of his dreams.'

He allowed himself to anticipate that possibility with a smile.

###

A/N: I have to say a little something here about the lack of reviews. Aside from faithful Xrystofer, I've heard little. The visitor stats tell me I have plenty of readers, so I'm puzzled as to why no one else is posting. Not begging for praise or ego-boosting messages, but a little moral support would be nice. If you're one of my silent readers, please consider just letting me know you're out there, if nothing else.

And if you care to review this particular chapter, I'm intensely interested in your thoughts about Den-neer. I find myself growing fonder of this antagonist the more I write him and wonder how readers are finding character.

Chapter 23 preview: The big meeting with Tider. What do Warren and Ettwanae learn? Where does Tider send them? What dangers will they face?