How one approaches the Xi'An Embassy at Terra Prime makes a huge difference in how it looks. The orbital platform lies at Terra Prime's L2, and the side resembling mountains faces both the planet and Terra's Sol. From my current vector on the shadow side, however, only the longest four show, resembling nothing so much as long thin eggs clumped together with the longest in the center. There's a very large cargo craft docked to the next longest structure and the silhouette of something perhaps military docked to one of the 'eggs' just out of sight.

I've been directed to land in the main containment bay, a huge cavity in the longest structure. As I get closer to the well lit hollow, it seems it must have been designed for much larger craft. Crossing the threshold I confirm the appearances: my little 350 is dwarfed by cranes and scaffolding. I set her down amid a lit landing pattern and feel retaining jaws latch to the landing gear.

Several Xi'An approach me as I disembark; they are mostly well armed military types, but at least Kree'Gna himself leads them.

Greetings follow though I note that none of the party are introduced... they must be here either as just a show of force or at someone else's orders for him to violate what would otherwise be presumed etiquette.

"The Diplomat welcomes you to Xi'An space and offers you a gift of these flight boots. Courtesy dictates you should wear them at our meeting to follow... and please tell me you have better garments... a suit or at least a newer flight suit to wear with them."

"Well, no suit per se but I do have a nice new flight suit."

"Excellent! Please prepare now so we may speak with the Diplomat and counsel."

Back in the ship I notice that the flight boots are of a strong charcoal colored leather that we call 'Dragonskin' made from who knows what that the Xi'An hunt or raise deep in their space. I slough off my old flight suit and don the new black one. Jurdi outdid herself with it, the interior lining is cloud-like and very pleasant to my skin.

Suited and booted, I return to the waiting group and am escorted into the Embassy proper. The winding corridors seem more organic somehow... less sharp edges and more smooth surfaces, with lighting integrated and also variable. Here and there we pass others, most of whom offer a slight bow probably intended towards Kree'Gna.

Finally, we enter a busy and well lit hall leading towards a cavernous chamber.

Following Kree'Gna's lead, I stride into the hall, struck immediately by the honeycomb-like far wall, transparent enough over much of the surface to allow a clear view of the Terran sun and the shadow of Terra Prime itself. Perhaps this is the long window I thought reminded me of a waterfall. On we stride and I notice the guards have fallen back, it's just the two of us now. At the far side of a raised dais, Kree'Gna slides open a portal and we enter a conference type room that is maybe twenty meters long by ten wide. It is dominated by a massive table that looks a lot like hewn stone.

There are two Xi'An waiting in the room... correction, there is a third in the shadows in the far corner.

The caste markings on the creature most obviously in charge are those of the Emperor's family, the "Imperial NestLine" as they call it, and I join Kree'Gna in bowing deeply... as is proper. The voice is deep and resonant as she offers, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. We are delighted that you have accepted our humble gifts and to have you honor our persons with your presence."

It's a princely greeting and for a moment I'm dumbfounded to be addressed so. Without her name, however, I am stuck, to reply without it would be an offense.

She smiles and continues, "Please see my naval councilor Ana Xis and my intelligence councilor, Ksan Ko'Kree. I am Athas Mgren, Diplomat of the Empire to the residents of the Terra system in the name of Emperor Kray. I serve as local adjunct to Torsi Leelk, Diplomat to the UEE."

Now it is my turn and I respond with the best Xi'An I know, "Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Mahhragna ith ilxag ('I am too humble for such honors'... or something like that)." I do hope I haven't failed some convention or other, but just in case I got it wrong, "I have never been so honored by the Xi'An, I am but a humble pilot of no caste and I have no gift worthy of your kindnesses and courtesy."

I glance at Kree'Gna and realize he is smiling... as is the Diplomat and the naval councilor. The intel character, however, still sits quietly watching.

"You are studying our customs," the Diplomat seems to be enjoying the interaction, "And you seem to have learned some of them well. Are you willing to converse honestly and openly about what we are offering and asking for?"

"Yes, Athas Mgren."

She nods and turns to Kree'Gna, "Please explain to Shawn Ryan our plan."

"For many years now, we have known that there is a deep shadow organization within your empire. Strangely, it seems all but unknown to even most of your government... we know that this group covets information. We have studied even your senate's budgets and not found anything to imply another covert organization to match what the Advocacy was during your dictatorship or what the OES is now. For those two organizations we have already found ways to watch their actions in Xi'An space. Until recently we had not had reason to believe anything further was more than just a rumor. Are you with me so far, Shawn Ryan?"

"Yup..." ooops, "Er, yes, Kree'Gna."

"I have been honored with courier runs of great import and to ease passage in UEE space, I often hire a pilot such as yourself. My last pilot seemed to have been a trusted ally, until we accidentally scanned his craft at a Rihlah security checkpoint. He had advanced intelligence gathering gear installed and active. We questioned him," for the first time I notice the intel councilor smile, "And found out about the Reporter who had recruited him. He also spoke of a person called an 'Interviewer' who appears to be skilled at interrogations."

Again, Ksan Ko'Kree is grinning... well what he is doing is the Xi'An version of it, trust me.

"Because of our history together, I hoped to ask you to take my wing and help us understand.

"So why all the subterfuge?"

Finally, the intel officer stands and walks forward to the table. He has only the Eye glyph on his collar, I think that is the Seer's caste or something like that. I also note that of the four he is the only "dino"... that is, his features are the most lizard-like. "We believe that there are some within official UEE circles who wish information and see no problems in employing unofficial means of getting it. While the role Kree'Gna hired your predecessor for should not have drawn so much attention, we have recently discovered the attention was there. We can only presume that there is more to their watchfulness than we understand."

"Indeed," the Diplomat follows his thought, "We wish to learn more of what they are looking for. His Imperial Highness, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray has authorized a special contract for you that will allow you to serve as Kree'Gna's wing until we can better understand their goals. Is this acceptable?"

"So now would I be a spy or what?"

All four laugh and Kree'Gna manages to say, "No, Shawn Ryan. You would be yourself. Be as honest with them as you are with me, and in turn be as equally honest with us," here he gestures around the room, "As you are with them."

The intel lizard is making what for a Xi'An is the equivalent to humans shaking our heads 'no' about something... and he suddenly bursts into a rather impassioned speech in one of the many Xi'An languages. Unfortunately, it is one I'm not even remotely familiar with, or it is just the common one and my vocabulary is woefully unprepared to follow him. Either way, the other three are focused on him and occasionally glance my way. The Diplomat chuckles, does that Xi'An grin thing, and gestures the impassioned one towards me.

Turn towards me, he does. "Gzath Ix'ala nox isha?" he seems to query, but all I can do is look towards Kree'Gna with that 'what did he say?' look. Kreen'Gna and the Diplomat laugh and look back at the inquisitor. "Look at me," he orders in clear English, then again seems to ask, "Gzath Ix'ala nox isha?"

"Please forgive me," I start, "But I haven't learned enough vocabulary to understand what you have just said, except that it sounds like a question."

He seems disappointed, but I notice Kree'Gna chuckle a bit. "It is not important that you understand it. Different question: do you know what the Miscellaneous Archive Research Committee does?"

"Um... research in libraries? Pay for others to do research? I don't really know."

He seems to think a moment, then pulls up something from his equivalent to a glas. "Why do you not take care of your natural..." he seems to be searching for a word, looks over at Kree'Gna and says, "Mix?"

"Teeth."

"Chash'ambosoy (something close to 'good enough'), Kree'Gna." He turns and asks, "Why do you not take care of your natural teeth?"

Where did that question come from? "Excuse me," I say while I try to remember his name, "Ksan Kroh'Kree..." I see Kree'Gna shake his head and stop. "Please forgive me, I fear I have mispronounced your honorable name, please grant me a rehearing of it."

He looks at me, head cocked to one side as if seeing something unexpected, then answers, "Ksan Ko'Kree."

"Ksan Ko'Kree?"

He nods and seems a bit less hostile.

I try again, "Excuse me, Ksan Ko'Kree, but for my kind I am getting old. Our teeth wear out, especially if we have had horrible experiences with dentists and not the best food choices."

He looks at something and then asks, "Why is a dentist a horrible experience?"

"I don't do pain very well anymore, sir."

"But you are missing five teeth and you have many metal things in others. Do not your dentists correct these things?"

"Yeah, if I happen to be unconscious."

"Why would such matter, Shawn Ryan?"

I wonder how I can explain the nightmares from oral surgeries in the RRS compound, performed by sadistic psychopaths with pretend diplomas, lies, and little to no pain reduction? How can I admit that one of the few people I used to dream of performing the most gruesome cold blooded murder on was one of those dentists? What equivalent could they have to that recurrent sense of being really just a kid the first time I endured that, or how any time since that I have ventured to sit into a dentist's chair that the same horrible feelings come up and threaten to turn me into a wild thing.

I glance around and realize that they are all now very intent on me, even Kree'Gna. I need to answer, but can't even think of a proper way to phrase it. "Look, I was tortured by dentists when I was much younger and have never been able to shake my irrational fear of any of them... even ones I know have the best intentions."

The Diplomat says something to Ksan Ko'Kree and he looks back at her and seems to agree.

He finally says, "I accept that you are human and I do not always understand your fears about such things... but I respect that you have admitted them to me, Shawn Ryan."

"Thank you, Ksan Ko'Kree."

He steps back and bows towards the Diplomat and Kree'Gna. The latter also bows, then turns to me and speaks, "Shawn Ryan, when you return to your craft, please place your new flightsuit in a secure location and unless you are wearing the boots, please do so with them also. We may at times need to speak without having the same security scans that we have here, and we know that these garments are clean of bugs. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kree'Gna. I'll do whatever, but these things," here I point at the boots, "Are so comfortable I bet I could sleep in them. Will it be an offense if I wear them instead of my old ones?"

He and the Diplomat both laugh and Kree'Gna responds, "No offense, they are yours."

…..

So, what is it that makes me feel more like an outsider with my own kind than with the strange customs, difficult language, reptilian features and nasty food of the Xi'An? I have no sense of family to instruct my sense of belonging, maybe if I had a wife and kids it would have been different, but... well, other than something akin to fraternal loyalty, I seem adrift of such normal emotions.

I am back on the main orbital platform above Terra Prime, waiting again for Kree'Gna to call. Honestly, I bet I'm actually here to wait for Gloria or someone similar to track me down and question or kill me. Seems an odd situation... like both my friend and his kind and shady characters from my own species are intent on moving me like a clueless pawn.

I've chosen a corner booth just so I can see whomever coming. In spite of an excellent steak and almost perfect eggs, I seem to have almost no appetite.

I keep looking up, expecting to find someone at least watching me, but the place is relatively quiet and except for an obviously much too young woman at the bar, I'm the only person sitting alone.

I spear another bite and realize my once piping hot steak is now room temperature. Maybe I have it all wrong, maybe Gloria's kind realize that I really can't keep a secret if I have to lie about it.

"Buy me a drink, okay?"

I look up from my incessant musings to realize the wee girl from the bar has walked over to my table and seems poised to sit across from me. She can't be more than twenty something, hair dyed a lapis blue to match her fingernails and flightsuit. I figure she must not have seen my face in the light, so I look up full in her face. "Excuse me, been a bit distracted... I didn't quite catch that."

"If you buy me a drink I'll sit with you." While there isn't a strong slur in her words, it is obvious she has had at least a few too many... maybe enough that I don't look quite so ancient or revolting.

On the other hand, I'm not really fond of drunk women; accusations of rape after what one thought was consent have ruined more than one equally inebriated former colleague. The danger is all the greater when the girl is so cute and I am so old... not to mention sober, so I wouldn't have any excuse. "Well, I can purchase one for you, but won't that make it harder to meet some young buck?"

"You aren't interested?" She leans over towards me, bringing her face close enough that it's fortunate that she reeks of some fruity synthohol... those eyes and lips could make a man waver.

"I don't like to take advantage of a woman."

"Why, you gay?"

"No."

"Well, I'm buzzed and lonely and you are all alone too. We can have a good time, you know?"

I need her to sit down, it's really is tempting to kiss her with her face so close and her tongue playing with those pouty lips.

"Sit, I'll get you something."

"Sure thing," she smiles and leans forward to plant an unexpected quick wet kiss, then slumps back into the opposing chair.

"Let me get the waitress," I say and rise.

"Just get me a BeeBerry Fizz, two shots of rum."

"I'll be right back."

"Okay, baby."

Been a long time since anyone called me that, and then I wasn't old enough to be that woman's grandpa. I walk towards the bar and realize that in spite of my best intentions, my hormones have created a bit of... er... discomfort. I need a cold shower or I might actually do the wrong thing.

Catching the waitress' eye, I offer, "I think the young lady needs a bit of time to come to her senses, I'll pay for whatever she eats and one drink."

"That Dora? She ain't here to eat, she's just in to pick up a man."

"Do I look like her normal type?"

The late twenty-something waitress chuckles, "No, not exactly... but this late, she isn't too picky."

"You don't think it's booze talk?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is, but she don't stay sober much these days."

"What happened?"

"Nah, I'm not the one to ask, talk with her."

"Honestly, I don't trust myself to be honorable; she knows how to get the motor running, if you know..." I stop because the woman is laughing at me. "Okay, just let me credit the check and go."

She looks me up and down, "You would actually leave a loose woman to her own devices once she chose you for the night?"

"It isn't right to take a drunk woman like that."

"Wow, there a younger version of you around somewhere? I wanna meet him."

I shrug, click the transfer on my mobi and smile. "Well, if I were younger, I'd want to meet you, too." With that, I hear my berth aboard the 350 calling and I stride for the exit.

…..

Well, I guess seven hours asleep is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, but I don't feel rested or refreshed. I am, however, very hungry and head back to the diner.

I'm not one for deja vu, but my corner booth seems to still have an occupied lapis jumpsuit sitting there, albeit head bowed as if in prayer or suffering a massive hangover. Walking closer confirms that the blue hair and nails do belong to a rather still young woman... er... never good with names here... Donna? Hmmm, best to ask the waitress. I turn and encounter the bubbly face of a cheerful waitress and whisper, "Donna?" while pointing over my shoulder.

"Dora," she whispers back. "Are you the guy who left her here last night?"

"Yeah, am I in trouble?"

She shrugs and comments, "Nah, probably not, she just remembers she was having a drink with someone and he stood her up."

"Ah. Well, breakfast menus in ten minutes unless you see me heading for the door... Okay?"

"You got it."

I turn and head on to the seat I vacated not so many hours ago.

Without looking up, she moans, "I don't want any."

"What if I am here to reclaim my seat?"

She looks up and it would be too easy to guess that she spent most of the time with her head there on the table. "You look familiar," she pronounces. There is a sparkling pink drink at her elbow, I would suspect it is related to the Beeberry thing she wanted last night... hair of the dog and all.

"I'm TOG. You're Dora. Thanks for keeping my table for me."

Bloodshot eyes and a puzzled expression greet this comment.

Not one to let it pass, I continue, "Look, I'll buy you breakfast if you'll tell me why you are doing this to yourself."

She looks at me like I'm daft and the color of her hair, "Excuse me? I was waitin' for... um..." her brow furrows, "for a... um... guy I met last night. You're just not my type."

"About seven hours ago, to be precise. Beeberry Fizz with two shots of rum," I offer while pointing at her drink; smiling I finish, "Right?"

There is confusion writ large on her features, it becomes a wide eyed look of horror as she looks down at her suit, now back to confusion as she convinces herself that she is still completely and properly dressed. Almost triumphantly she concludes, "Well, if you were him, why am I still in here?"

"And not waking up beside me? Honestly, I rather not take advantage of an intoxicated woman."

Now she is looking at me like I have four heads. "You gay?"

"You asked me that last night. Answer is still no."

"Then... you think I'm ugly?"

"No, I think you are lovely, not to mention a great kisser."

She plants her face in her hands, shaking her head all the while.

Continuing, I state, "If you can honestly say you would have been happy to see my face this morning after an evening of intimacy, then I'll be glad to make up for lost time once you're completely sober."

She looks up at me again, "Nah, guess you're right."

"Whats up? I'm still willing to trade a good breakfast for your story."

"Why?"

"Because we all need an ear some times and right now I figure your time has come."

"Nah, don't need it," she shakes her head and the tumble of blue splashes about her eyes like a veil of water in a cascade.

"Okay, have a good one." I rise and move somewhat across the room to another table well out of her sight.

The waitress approaches and I sit, "Stack of indigoberry pancakes, a small beef patty, and a large clisnas juice."

"We're out of clisnas, but I have real Terran strawberry juice."

"I'll take that, then."

She grins and replies, "I'm right on it."

A flow of blue moves almost noiselessly from my right to the chair across from me. She rather plops down as her stare evaluates me silently.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask casually.

"You're not gonna make fun of me... are you?"

"Nope. Let's just say I haven't been kissed by such a pretty young woman in so long that I know you've gotta be hurting. Let's share a meal and you can tell uncle TOG all about whatever is eating at you."

She grins unexpectedly, "My uncle was an ass, you don't seem much like him at all."

"There's only one TOG and he isn't me."

"Okay," she sighs, then adds, "What's good to eat here?"

"They know you by name but you haven't eaten here?"

"Nah, just nips and Beeberry Fizz."

"Try the indigoberry pancakes with 2sweet. Maybe a beef patty for protein."

"Just like you?"

"Yeah, guess so. You might try something else, wouldn't want you getting in an old-person food rut."

She laughs. It is musical, each note floating from her mouth is a melody awaiting shape. I shake my head and look down at my hands, trying to break the spell.

"What?"

"You really are lovely, you know."

For the first time, I think she sees me. "Thanks, that's sweet."

…..

Dora's story winds around a relationship gone south with a guy she thought was her partner; Ok, he was her lover, too. They had gone in halves on an Aurora LX and had done a couple runs when they stopped here a about a month back. Things went sideways when she found said lover with a voluptuous teen in rather intimate circumstances. A significant amount of yelling followed and it appears that that was the last that Dora has seen of either her beau or her ship. No sign of them since, she wonders if he has run off to join a pirate clan.

She hasn't finished her meal for the constant chatter, but mine is so long gone that I'm considering ordering something more. Finally, there is a pause long enough to realize she is done.

"So, what will you do now?" I ask.

She shrugs just a bit, "I'm just a Flunkie now."

"Don't put yourself down," I retort, "What do you know how to do?"

"I can pilot and am halfway decent in a dogfight." I would swear there is more... lots more, but while her eyes seems to say this, the rest of her features imply she is just a simple girl who has been wounded in love and business.

"Well, have you checked for pilots who need gunners or seconds?"

"None around lately that don't have crews. I bet if I could get to a station with a hiring board I could find someone, but I can't afford another ship, can barely afford to feed myself."

"Well, then why buy spendy drinks like that Fizz thing?"

"They help me feel normal."

I shake my head, "Must be hard on you. Have anyone on planet you can call on?"

"Nope, my folks were on Earth last time I checked." She seems to recognize something about me and her expression loses some of the hangover laxness, "You said you're TOG... as in Shawn Ryan?" For a fraction of a second this seems strange, but her eyes are captivating and they seem suddenly to sparkle.

"Guilty as charged," I admit.

"You need a crewwoman?" she asks rather insistently.

"No, I'm in a 350r. Single-seater."

"Oh." She pauses, but I almost feel the question coming as a smile grows. "Those racers are SO sexy... can I see it? Please?" This last word is spoken like a little girl might beg her father for a cake, she enunciates it with every bit of emotional tug and pouting undertone that ever a woman could wield. As if to punctuate the whole assault on my reason, she lets the tip of her tongue wet her lips just a bit... moving so slowly that it becomes almost intoxicatingly hypnotic.

I rip my concentration away from her mouth and back to her eyes. I hadn't really thought about it, but her eyes match her suit, hair and nails. Hmmm, actually, the eyes were there first, weren't they?

"Pleeease?" she pleads. Her hand reaches out to where one of mine rests by my coffee mug and those cool fingers caress the back of mine. "I'm sober now, so I'm sure it's okay."

I am most certain that I'm not safe with this woman... all of a sudden, I feel like a teen with a crush. My reason says something is odd, but her story adds up and she does indeed appear sober.

My resolve wavers and like an overloaded shield collapses suddenly, "Okay, I'll show you, but if I need to go, you'll have to leave."

She is suddenly a little Miss Sunshine, beaming at me in ways that make a part of my anatomy uncomfortable in response.

…..

She all but leads me by the hand to Taibhse' opening hatch, then aboard. All the while, she seems giddy with excitement, you would think she had never seen one of these. The shattering moment is just after she has asked if she can sit in the big chair; when I nod, she plants a full French kiss on me that is designed to melt any resistance to her. Reason be damned, now she is as much in my arms as I am in hers and I feel an immense passion as I kiss her back. She smiles as she backs away and moves to sit at the console.

But as she reaches for the yoke, Duncan issues the challenge, "Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"What the hells?" she responds as if she had been struck, her hands retreating from the controls.

"Invalid! You are an intruder! Leave this craft IMMEDIATELY!"

"Duncan," I start.

"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."

"Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Duncan, controls to remain inop, I'm just showing the craft to a friend."

"I thought the seat seemed lighter, figured you had hippo suction or something."

Dora looks up at me like I'm daft, but I respond to Duncan, "Nope, just cooperating with a youn..."

The comms interrupt as they come to life, "Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

Duncan states the obvious, "Comm connection from Kree'Gna."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you ready to depart?"

I look down at blue eyes perfectly framed by blue hair and suit and see a bit of a pout. Does she actually want to spend time with me? Why now? Why is it every time I think I'm in the right place at the right time, the bottom falls out and everything goes sideways?

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to erase the erotic images Dora has been inspiring. My duty is to fulfill my commitment to Kree'Gna, even though my body wants to have a lusty experience with this girl.

"Shawn Ryan, are you still there?"

"I have a guest right now."

"Ah." he answers without asking the questions I know he has.

"Take me with you," she whispers.

"Excuse me? What did you say, Shawn Ryan?"

"My guest was asking if I could take her with me. I have not said anything yet."

"What does she do?"

"I'm a Flunkie," she says confidently. That's the second time she has said that, and said it with pride.

"A 'Flunkie'?" he asks, but there is something in his tone that tells me he isn't confused about the word's meaning... there is something else behind his query.

"Yup, just a Flunkie."

"Shawn Ryan; it would be better if she did not come along. You would have to leave her on Horus before you cross into Xi'An space."

He has placed my name before his statement, there is something VERY wrong here... I look down at her and realize she has just reached out to stroke my leg. She looks up and whispers again, "Take me with you."

Unexpectedly, Kree'Gna speaks directly to Dora, "Guest of Shawn Ryan, who do you work for?"

She seems to hesitate for a moment, glances up at me and realizes I want the answer, too, and replies, "I sometimes work for Mark."

While I certainly don't have a clue who 'Mark' is, Kree'Gna seems to be better prepared, "Ah, and you are entertaining Shawn Ryan out of mutual desire?"

That seems out of bounds, it's very unlike Kree'Gna to be so rude. I'm not at all prepared for the turns this conversation is taking, nor for Dora's response. "I hope to be soon."

"And not on orders from MARC?"

For a flash of a second, hardly longer than an instant, her expression changes to calculating anger, then it disappears into a desirous look my way... had I not seen the one, I would be captive of the other.

"I just want to get to know this wonderful man better."

Without hesitation, Kree'Gna again says, "Shawn Ryan; it would be better if she did not come along. I need to leave within the hour."

"Please," she whispers, but I know I need to do as Kree'Gna asks.

"As you wish, my friend. I will be there and alone."

"Good. Be sure of your fuel, we have a longer run with fewer stops to fuel."

"Already topped off and ready. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Until then. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"You don't want me even sober," she pouts.

"No, I didn't say that. But I do have to pay my bills. I've got a contract with him and need to do as he asks in Xi'An space."

"You could be a little late," she smiles, her hand caressing my thigh.

Something has changed, though. I'm not quite as convinced that I'm not missing something; call me paranoid, but this is the same woman who while sobering up couldn't think I was her type. Lust wars with reason as her caress moves a bit higher. Fortunately, honor steps in and I realize that I have just given my word again. I step back from her touch and sheepishly admit, "I really don't have time right now. Will you give me your mobi number? I'll call when I get back."

She is evaluating me, I bet she says 'no'; after all, she has all but offered me children, won't she be insulted?

Nope. She smiles, "You have to do what you have to do. I'll send you my number," she says while tapping away. "When you get back, we can start again."

I help her up out of the big chair and walk her to the hatch. She turns and kisses me just as my mobi chimes with her number transmission. She is out and onto the bay floor before I realize: I hadn't given her my number...