A/N: Thanks to andytanjiahou95 and leathman for reviewing last chapter. I'm glad you two are enjoying this story.

Chapter IV: Code of Chivalry

28 October 2998

After Imra left them in the foyer, Rokk patted his pocket and realized that his Magnoball uniform didn't have pockets – ergo, no communicator.

"Nass," he muttered. He glanced at the other boy. "Garth, right?"

"Yup," Garth said cheerfully.

"Do you have a communicator I could borrow?"

Garth shrugged, opening empty hands. "Sorry."

Rokk frowned. "When Imra said we could make ourselves at home, do you suppose she meant we could use the landline?"

Garth looked at him as though he were crazy. "Are you insane? You're not supposed to let them know where you are!"

"It's just a landline," Rokk argued.

"A landline's ID is going to show up on any communicator you call," Garth reminded him.

"Okay, so my team finds out where I am. Big deal."

"It is a big deal, you pretentious prat! Someone is trying to kill you, and you want to broadcast your location? I thought captains were supposed to be smart."

"No one on my team is going to give my location to someone who tried to kill me," Rokk said impatiently.

"You've never heard of public phone records?" Garth said deprecatingly.

"You're awfully paranoid, aren't you? The chances that someone would scroll through thousands of recorded calls just to see if I happened to use a landline are slim to none."

"Stranger things have happened," Garth said stubbornly. "Trust me, I speak from experience." Rokk scowled. "Look, if you're not worried about your own safety, then at least think of Imra's. This is her house. If the wrong person discovers she was helping you, she could be in danger."

"I repeat, the chances of someone discovering the call would be almost nonexistent. But I see your point," he conceded. "It's not ethical for me to risk her safety, however small the risk might be."

"Now you're getting it."

There was a pause, then Rokk said, "So, what do you want to do while we wait?"

Garth shrugged. "Explore?" he suggested. "This is a pretty sweet house."

"Should we be doing that?"

"She said to make ourselves at home. What else do you want to do? – sit around here like a couple of ninnies?" Garth took a few steps in what he assumed was the direction of the kitchen. "Come on, I bet you're hungry after that workout."

The first call Imra made was to Lyle, again. He still didn't pick up, and she began to worry that something really had happened to him. She hoped he'd been able to get out of the crush of people.

The next call she made was to Chief Norg at NMPD HQ, both to inform him that his son was missing and to find out what the Science Police knew about the incident.

"I'm busy, Imra," Lon snapped as his face appeared on the comscreen. Behind him, his office looked to be in a state of disarray.

"I know, sir, but I thought you should know that Lyle and I were in the Botanic Gardens."

"What? You were?"

"Yes, sir – we went to see the game."

Lon scanned the space behind her as best as he was able to from his screen, but he found no sign of his son. "Are you at home? Where's Lyle?"

"I'm at home. But Lyle and I were separated – I haven't been able to contact him."

There was a short pause; Lon's brow furrowed with worry. Offscreen, someone yelled for him, and his face took on a smooth, in-control expression.

"Duty calls," he said – no one could ever blame Chief Norg of being less than 100% committed to his job. "Lyle can take care of himself." He sounded certain, and only his next sentence indicated that he was still anxious. "You call me the minute you hear from him, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Imra's last call was to Shvaughn Erin, a young and newly-promoted lieutenant on NMPD whom she knew fairly well. They weren't all that close, but she had trailed Erin for a week as part of her practical training and they were on speaking terms.

"Lieutenant Erin," Shvaughn responded. She frowned when she saw who was calling. "Cadet Ardeen," she said, "Why are you calling?"

"I want to know what's happening with the investigation," said Imra. "I presume you're the chief investigator.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," said Shvaughn. "In case you've forgotten, you don't have the full rights of a Sci-Pol officer until you graduate."

"I haven't forgotten. But I was at the scene – I'm calling as a citizen who wants to know why I was shot at."

"You were there?" Shvaughn said incredulously. "Why aren't you at the precinct giving your statement?"

"I had civilians to protect."

"They need to come too."

Imra hesitated. Sci-Pol protocol did require that as many witnesses as possible give their statements to the police, but if she involved Garth and Rokk in this things would get even more complicated than they already were. So she did something that could potentially cost her her Sci-Pol graduation if her superiors found out about it: she defied a ranking police officer.

"They've already gone home. I didn't get their names."

Onscreen, Shvaughn frowned disapprovingly. "You should have gotten their contact details before you sent them home. You know this, Ardeen – you're less than a month from becoming a full-fledged Science Police officer."

"I know, and I'm sorry. In my haste to get them somewhere safe protocol slipped my mind."

Shvaughn exhaled. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much – we've got officers at the scene taking statements from hundreds of people – I doubt a few civilians would have seen or heard anything more than what everyone else did. But you need to come down to HQ ASAP."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll be expecting you. Erin out." The screen closed as Shvaughn ended the call.

Imra went looking for Garth and Rokk, who had ended up in the living room instead of the kitchen and were watching Loretta Lane's live coverage of the aftermath of the laser shooting.

"Science Police have cordoned off the area and are now taking statements from citizens who were attending the Magnoball game. Medical units have arrived and started treating the injured – the death toll is estimated to be around 50 people, most of whom were caught in the human crush, but many more sustained injuries. We have no word yet on who or what could have caused the attack."

"They won't know yet," said Imra. "The investigation has barely been opened." She picked up her coat from where she'd draped it on the couch.

"Where are you going?" Garth inquired.

"I need to get down to NMPD HQ to give my statement – my superiors are expecting me. You two can stay here until I get back – help yourself to anything, do whatever you want. Ask Merriweather for anything you need."

"Merriweather?" Rokk mouthed questioningly at Garth, who waved impatiently; Imra hadn't yet finished talking.

"I shouldn't be gone long. Ow." She stopped and grunted as the burned skin on her arm brushed against the sleeve; she had all but forgotten about her injury. Both Garth and Rokk frowned.

"Didn't you take care of that?" Garth demanded.

"Honestly, I forgot about it." Imra glanced at the wall chronometer. "I'll treat it when I get back."

"No," said Rokk sternly, rising from his seat. He removed her coat from her grasp, ignoring her protests. "You will treat it now. How long has the wound been open like that?"

"NMPD can wait," Garth agreed. "Your burn might already be infected."

"I don't think it is," Rokk told him as he inspected Imra's arm. "But it will be if you go downtown without treating it."

"I don't have time –" Imra began.

"Sit," Rokk interrupted, firmly pushing her down on the couch. "Where do you keep your first aid supplies?"

"Seriously, I'm fine…"

"Imra, neither Garth nor I is going to let you leave until that wound is treated, so you might as well save yourself the trouble and just get it over with."

Imra met Rokk's eyes and saw nothing but determined resolution; he wouldn't force her, but he was not going to give her a pass on this. Sighing, she nodded in acquiescence.

"The medikit is in the cabinet in the foyer," she relented.

"Garth, can you get it?"

Without a word, Garth slipped out of the living room. Rokk gently took Imra's arm and turned it so her burn was facing upwards.

"Is this how you treat all girls?" Imra asked, with a hint of teasing in her tone.

"Only those who save my life," he bantered back with a slight grin. Imra smirked.

"I got the kit," Garth announced, bustling back to the couch.

"I'll need the antibiotic solution, cotton balls, gauze, and tape."

Imra looked at Rokk in surprise while Garth rummaged in the medikit. "You're treating me?"

"How do you propose to clean and dress the wound one-handed?" Rokk asked. Imra cringed.

"I guess I didn't think of that."

"Nope," said Rokk. He took the antibiotic solution Garth handed him and poised it over Imra's burn. "This will sting," he warned her, before pouring some over her arm. Imra winced, but didn't complain as Rokk used the cotton balls to clean the wound. He was gentle with his ministrations, careful not to cause her more pain than necessary. After he finished with the cotton balls, Garth cut a square of gauze and Rokk taped it securely over Imra's wound. "There," he said, meeting her pink eyes with his dark purple. "Now you can go to NMPD."

"Thank you." Imra cleared her throat and stood up, shrugging into her coat. "I should be back by 1400. If you're hungry, the kitchen has a replicator as well as proper food."

"We'll be here," Garth assured her.

"See you later, then." She exited the room. Rokk and Garth heard the smooth purr of her hovercar leaving the driveway.

"She doesn't live here alone, does she?" Rokk asked.

Garth shrugged. "Don't know. Just met her yesterday."

"Really? You seem quite familiar with each other."

"Saving a Magnoball captain together apparently has a way of bonding people," Garth quipped. "Why do you ask if she lives alone, though?"

"Because I'm wondering what we'd say to her parents if they happen to come home."

"Sydne is away for the week," a disembodied voice supplied helpfully. Rokk jumped.

"What is that?" he exclaimed, looking around wildly.

"That's Merriweather." At Rokk's stare, Garth explained, "Apparently this house comes with an AI. Hey, Merriweather," he addressed the ceiling, "Where's the kitchen?"

"Are you asking for directions in relation to your current location?"

"Well, obviously." Garth rolled his eyes. "Not very smart for an AI, is it?" he whispered to Rokk.

"I heard that."

Garth startled, then frowned. "Just tell me where the kitchen is, please."

In response, a holographic map of the house, with their current location marked in electric blue, appeared in front of them. "The kitchen is located here." One section of the map glowed green. "Would you like specific verbal directions?" Garth swore he heard a hint of sarcasm in Merriweather's monotone.

"No, thanks, this is fine."

"You are welcome. Happy eating."

Garth and Rokk waited a moment, but it became clear that Merriweather had said all he – it? – wanted to say. Shrugging in unison, they consulted the house map, then set off to the kitchen.

A/A:

1. I'll be using a lot of 31st-century-related jargon, particularly for objects in the time period. You should be able to figure out what most of the terms mean from the context, but if anything is not clear, please do ask, and I'll clarify what they're supposed to be.

2. This story is as much about character development and interaction as it is about the plot. So there'll be several chapters where it's just Imra, Garth, and Rokk talking. Never fear, though - this is a Legion story, after all, so there are also action chapters.