Two uneventful jumps are behind us but as we speed to our midpoint fuel topoff, my curiosity gets the better of me and I open the sequence, "Kree'Gna?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?"

"What concerned you about Dora?"

"She claimed to be a Flunkie and she admitted she at least occasionally works for MARC."

"And who is Mark that you are so worried about him?"

"Not 'who' but 'what'... Miscellaneous Archive Research Committee, MARC."

I seem to remember hearing that name recently... but where?

Before I can ask, however, Kree'Gna has the answer, "They are the shadow people Ksan Ko'Kree asked you about. From what we have gleaned, 'Flunkie' is the least rank, the starter, somewhat below a 'Reporter' like your 'Gloria'."

Well, that explains a lot.

He continues, "She may be hoping to co-opt you and knowing human male weaknesses, most likely with sex. Did you engage in sexual interaction with her?"

That's a humbling thought, no wonder she began to come on to me like an unattached mom with five kids in diapers. "No, but we were probably pretty close."

"What did she ask you?"

"Nothing. I let her talk; bought her story hook, line, and sinker."

"She was selling fishing gear?"

"No, sorry. I was convinced that she had had some bad luck. She wanted to see my ship and seemed to want..." the absurdity of what I'm about to say strikes me and instead I say, "I was being a fool."

"I would guess from my briefing that she was most appealing to you, having the attributes that 'Gloria' did not."

"Yeah, young, desirable, and horny."

"With the appearance of perhaps being an unexpectedly perfect breeding partner?"

I think about her face and... well, okay, her body, too. Yup, she definitely tried to lite my nearly forgotten drive to procreate. How stupid must I have looked to her? "Yeah, she was," I reply. "You know, I wondered why you were rude to her. I guess I should thank you for keeping me from making a complete ass of myself."

"We were expecting them to move to consolidate you as their asset. I fear I thought it would be 'Gloria' again, but Ksan'Ko'Kree said it would be like this. He is not a Seer for nothing."

"So, am I your 'asset'? Not a friend but a pawn?"

"No, you are Shawn Ryan. You are my friend. You are an ambassador of understanding. They are recording this, so they know that we know some and will watch to see what they might want to see."

"A balance to keep both sides aware of the other, without unexpected advantage?"

"They know we watch, we know how they watch and will take what they do. Perhaps they look for things we are not concerned about, but then again, perhaps we will show them things that are not the whole truth."

"And Dora probably..." my voice trails off.

"You might not find Dora so accommodating when you next see her; but if you do, feel free to enjoy whatever relationship she offers you. Just be aware that there are probably ulterior motives."

"Fair enough. Thanks for answering me."

In Xi'An, he tells me the time to the fuel stop and then falls silent. I wonder at how gullible I can be when I'm told what I want to hear.

…..

There is a sleek feel to this ship. Okay, like all the 300 series, it appeals to my aesthetic side as much as my practical... but there is something beyond the quality that I tend to appreciate when I'm cruising like this. The thrusters seem to hum through the frame and the electronics add little harmonies.

Duncan interrupts my peace, "You've been quiet for a long time, Shawn. Why don't we talk about me?"

"Got anything worth talking about?"

"Well, I am smart and handsome, even my wife thinks so. So, okay, it's about the only thing we agree on, but it's a start."

"Wow, isn't it a shame your stuck in an AI like this?"

"Yup; been meaning to talk with you about that."

"You want me to uninstall you and dump your software out into the freedom of space?"

"Um... no, not exactly, no."

"Hey, I hear that Nanako Ito is doing AI voices, maybe I should let you make your own way and get her instead."

"That's cold."

"Okay, you can stay."

"Gee, thanks. Now that I know you would rather have a hot female talking to you all day instead of me."

"Just bein' honest... think I should?"

"No. I'm a lot more engaging. She would just leave you bothered and unsatisfied."

There's a lot of truth in that. "Yup."

"So, when are you going to move me into an Idris Cruiser?"

"What would I want that for? It's too big. Not interested."

"You know, sometimes it seems like we are speaking a different language... I mean the words each make sense on their own, but together it's complete gibberish."

I blow a noisy raspberry at the console, succeeding only in getting spit on the various glas surfaces.

As if to punctuate the fact, Duncan retorts, "Eeewww. You SPIT on me. You are so trog."

"Yup, that's me. Trog, trog, trog, trog..."

"Forget I mentioned it. PLEASE," he fires back.

…..

I'm docked at the Covalex orbital at Hadrian. Kree'Gna is in the Xi'An embassy for a sleep period, and I'm just about to nod off...

Duncan blurts out, "Shawn! You have an incoming signal, sequenced green, white, orange. Are you awake?"

"No."

"They seem pretty insistent. Are you awake now?"

I take a deep breath and wonder who is calling at this time of night. No, wait... standard clock would have this be a day period for most. Green, white, orange... hmmm... oh, got it, "Yeah, Duncan, open the sequence."

"Opened."

"Yellow?"

"TOG, you old bastard, what's with the long time no answer?"

"Sleeping."

"Well wake your sorry butt up, we got a good one runnin' shoulder for a few Connies. You get your new boat?"

I wonder how to answer John, an opinionated old friend and occasional partner with his own escort business.

"Um, John. I have a new boat and I'm already under contract."

"Wow! That was quick. Bet they aren't paying what we are."

"Bet you're wrong."

"Are you serious? What are you up to?"

"Flying wing for Kree'Gna. You remember him."

"That old slink?" He sounds incredulous. "I thought you didn't fly with him anymore." I clear my throat and he changes his tone, "Okay, sorry, but other than good pay..." he falls silent.

"Kree'Gna was my friend before anyone else gave me a chance."

"Yeah, but that's ancient hist."

"Yeah, we met before you were born."

"Touche."

"Look, much as I like running with your team, I have a good set of runs lined up and even got funding to upgrade into a 350."

"A new one?"

"New to me. It's a '40 but with my toys she is still a 'bolt."

"Jix! You always were a vroom vroom type."

"Yup."

"Well, let me know when you're footloose again, I bet I have something for a streaker."

"Will do, John."

"Hasta la pasta, dude."

"Happy trails, dude."

The signal dies and I wonder about John. He is from a family that fought with the Xi'An over planets along the line. It is still a wonder to me that he even visits this system, but I guess a contract is a contract and almost everyone knows the Xi'An pay exceptionally well. Hard to imagine that he did any of the dealing, though, he has trouble hiding his inherited prejudices.

…..

I wake with a bit of a toothache. The grav on this platform must be higher than normal here, I'm now dealing with one of those throbbing teeth that insists I should have had it looked at years ago. Bah humbug... or something like that. Where's the stupid painkill?

I rummage through my drawers looking for the small appliance I obtained just for this kind of dental distraction. Problem with things in drawers in space... if you fly with grav off most of the time, nothing is quite where it was before. Yeah, it's still in the drawer somewhere, but like as not it is now hidden in some fold of cloth or the... there it is, wrapped up under a spool of velcro. I push the charge button and the led blinks a few times red before burning a nice green. Device goes in mouth, I tense myself for the shock, and ZAAAP! OWWW! I really wonder if the cure isn't worse than the original... maybe it is just a placebo effect inducer. I don't know.

One thing is for certain, the toothache is gone bye bye.

In spite of myself, I smile. I slide the bed away and wonder if I have time for breakfast. Heck, might as well. I climb into my old flightsuit and pull the dragonskins onto my ugly old paws.

The hatch has hardly opened when Duncan speaks up, "Incoming signal from Kree'Gna."

Bumping the button to reseal the hatch I turn and reply, "Give it to me, Duncan."

"Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

There's something reassuring about the Xi'An rituals of greeting between friends; like a litany, the formality hints at an almost spiritual bond of what we might call 'brotherhood'. I remember learning about an ancient Earth ritual called a 'tea ceremony' that carries about the same meaning within the symbolism. Kree'Gna has used my full name to show deep respect and honor to our relationship, just as I have used his for the same reasons.

"I have reports of trouble along our new route."

"Where are we headed?"

He starts to say something in Xi'An, then shifts to the more familiar, "Hadur III."

"Jix! I've been wanting to see how those big ol' formers are doing."

Kree'Gna laughs, "Just don't get too close, our navy isn't especially fond of random craft getting near the terraformers' lanes."

That would seem painfully obvious, enough so that he hasn't said anything like that to me in a very long time.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Are you feeling Ok?"

"Yes... sorta."

"We will talk later, my friend. Oh, would you set the craft skin to my colors?"

I flip the switch and respond, "Good to go. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Rally in five. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Duncan, platform control, please."

"Ready," he replies.

Keying up, "Covalex platform launch control, this is TOG in Terran 4009.714 , request permission to launch."

"TOG, clearing exit lane, auto glide active, proceed when ready."

"Covalex," I say as I push the thrusters to raise me off the deck, "I am clear of the plates."

I touch the retract icon and the landing gear comes up. The platform glide wave locks on and begins to guide me to the depart area. I come to a gentle halt immediately in front of the massive gateway and a shimmering wall rises in my rearview. Now the main portal is opening, wider and wider the doors go letting the space beyond fill my field of view.

"TOG, you are clear to throttle up."

I bump the thrusters and as I sail out into the void I say, "Thanks Control, have a good one."

"You too, TOG. See you on the flip."

I move to one G and make good time to the Embassy.

…..

The first jumppoint is barely behind us when the sensors ping a half dozen craft to our right.

"Got six at 90 degrees!"

"Yes."

"Go?!" I say, ready to push my throttles to first detent, anticipating trying to keep close as he flashes to five or six gs.

"No, Shawn Ryan."

I note that the six have moved to parallel us... from here the dim light hides the type craft, but they seem to follow Xi'An lines.

"More company?"

"Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan..." he breathes over the connection, voice somewhat subdued in respect, "Your navy calls them 'Night Witches'. Stay on my wing."

Night Witches, I've heard of them... younger female Xi'An who have finished the required fifteen years service and decided to forgo nesting to stay on as senior combat pilots. They are the Amazons of the Xi'An and their units have legendary dogfighting skills. I remember an old UEEN officer I escorted once who talked about them... said they are one of the few units the Vandies fear... though how he would know was never answered. No matter what, I sure don't want to do anything that will upset any of them.

"They will be an escort for the next two jumps," Kree'Gna informs me.

"Copy."

"Let us go, Shawn Ryan."

"Lead on, Kree'Gna" I reply as his thrusters glow and he disappears.

…..

They are lurking just out of range... eight to ten pings that cycle in an out of sensor range but just beyond vision, floating foolishly near the entry coordinates of our second jump point. We are stopped in space, Kree'Gna and I... or as close to stopped as one can get with just the directionals to stop a machine. Moments back, the Night Witches are no doubt watching as well. I don't know what their trigger is, but it obviously hasn't happened.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Yes, sir?"

"Your sensors are best, please move to range to identify the targets."

Time to earn my pay. "You got it," I respond and bump the throttle up just a bit. This is the first chance I get to see if everything on this racer is upgraded as requested... not sure how I feel about that now that there are rather shaky initial odds.

I move forward a bit, now three of the eight are constant... nothing seems hostile, but they are obviously waiting for something or someone.

I move inexorably towards them, picking up more until I have seven craft, mostly Cutlasses, but a couple 325s and a Hornet. The eighth craft seems to be backing away.

General comm channel is suddenly live, "Terran 4009.714, you are not our target. Leave with weapons powered down and you will not be destroyed."

"Thanks for the offer," I reply, then continue with just a bit of impish silliness, "But I have just two words for ya... Bite me!"

I push the throttle and am angling off as three of them accelerate out at me. High G loop and I'm pulling clear, they are missing with the lasers and ballistics but I'm in a 350 with thrusters pushing as much as I can stand.

The craft falling astern don't waste time trying to talk, they're firing. I've got energy to spare and set my shields charging while playing the shifting corkscrew heading back towards Kree'Gna's post.

"Missile Lock," Duncan informs.

I'm pushing pretty hard, popping the throttle past the first detent and up to the second. The pressure suit is keeping my blood from pooling and I still see in color so I'm okay... I guess. No, now I'm at five G and the colors do seem to be fading. I ease off a bit and realize that a pair of Xi'An heavy fighters, I think they were Banshees, have just flashed past me towards my pursuit.

BAAAMMMM!

Duncan informs me calmly, "Shields down."

"Any more missiles?"

"Nope. Seems you also lost your friendly neighborhood escort."

Indeed, the sensors show nothing hostile behind me as I slow to rejoin Kree'Gna. The remaining four Xi'An hunters are now engaged and, with the two who covered me, are putting on a serious light show ahead.

"Kree'Gna?"

"Yes, Shawn Ryan?"

"These the ones you were expecting?"

"It would seem so."

"Should I join the fight?"

"No, my friend, you are where I want you. Xsaxas'Ha 'Annan occasionally become overzealous and I would rather you were not an addition to the debris field they will leave."

It is suddenly dark ahead... no, maybe there is hydrogen burning off within pockets of environmental oxygen... meaning the pilots who had been breathing the latter no longer need it.

All six Banshees pass us and resume their place on our tails.

I'm glad they're on our side.

…..

Out of the jumppoint I flash with just a hint of jump lag, Okay, my toes and fingers are tingling just a little from doing so many in the last few hours, but I'm pretty much fine. Near at hand, a joint UEEN and Xi'An Imperial Navy patrol is approaching, which can mean only one thing: we have arrived at Hadur.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I will need to be in system for at least a full sleep-wake cycle, perhaps more. You do know where you are right now, correct?"

"Hadur."

"Yes. You must not wander off or explore here: Xi'An Imperial Naval units are not likely to overlook such an offense and I will not be situated to correct their misunderstanding or any consequences."

"Yup, got it. I heard there was a nice human research station off Hadur III that offers food and fuel sales; I think I'll check them out if that's okay."

Kree'Gna keys up but I hear another call chime and he drops the signal.

I have waited in the quiet for a good three minutes when I get a connection on the open channel, "Craft tagged Terran 4009.714, state you purpose in this system."

"Escort for the Xress piloted by Kree'Gna."

"Confirmed. You may proceed, but be aware that you do not have exploration privileges in this system, you are to remain in proximity of the Deputy Diplomat or on one of the human platforms or stations."

"Copy, Will do."

The connection is quiet.

"Shawn Ryan to Kree'Gna"

"You have been given clearance to proceed, Shawn Ryan?"

"Yes, Kree'Gna. Ready when you are."

The Xress glides ahead and I match it, accelerating with a steady increase instead of our usual maxed throttles.

…..

The massive terraformers seem to float above the atmosphere of Hadur III, surrounded by esoteric storms blazing with guided gigawatt bolts of radiant lightning. My destination is the Valinor Aerospace Research and Supply Station; it hangs in space at the L1 position, and should afford me a great view of the new world becoming from the lifeless husk of the old.

"Valinor Research Station, this is TOG in Terran 4009.714 requesting permission to land or dock."

"VAS R&S to TOG, are you an employee or contractor?"

"No, sorry."

"That is not an insurmountable problem. While our landing pads are limited and at this time reserved for Valinor Aerospace craft only, if you have a standard docking collar, we have three stanchions with rings available. We do have a fueling service at market rates and two fine dining opportunities."

"Permission to dock?"

"Granted. Would you like a location with a view of Hadur III or one more suited to keeping your craft darkened?"

"I can pull a curtain if it gets too bright, I'd kinda like to see the planet."

"Very good. Sending terms, please select your options and reply."

The message glas reaches out on a thin arm, showing my options. I click for two days worth plus a fuel top-off. I'll take care of the meals myself. I tap the reply icon and a few moments later hear, "Payment received. Please dock at stanchion three, ring two, making sure you are facing Hadur III."

"Thanks."

…..

The architecture on this station is actually pretty amazing. I have just left the zero G tunnel from my dock port into the station proper. Before me is a brightly lit area that resembles more a forest of silver trees than the main arcade of a space platform. It seems open and airy, even though I know from looking at it from the outside that there really isn't so much space.

Comfortably dressed folks seem to be busy about their work, but one younger woman in lab whites walks directly to me and introduces herself, "Welcome to Valinor Aerospace's Hadur III Research and Supply Platform. I am Eowyn, head of our Science and Research team here. I have been informed that you are not a VAS employee or contractor, but in the spirit of our illustrious CEO, Lorien Silmaril, I wish to welcome you and offer you the hospitality of the platform. While we are smaller than most public platforms, we do provide special services that I believe you will find unique.

"Our dining facilities are at least the equal of any other locally prepared human foods, and represent cuisines from all across the UEE. We also offer various Xi'An specialties, should you prefer them or wish to entertain members of their race.

"Our Research department offers exceptional and proprietary performance tuning for higher performance craft like your Origin 350r and our rates are competitive with any in our corporate system. We also employ some freelance researchers," here she looks my way, "For occasional in space investigations permitted by the local Xi'An authorities."

I nod, but remember Kree'Gna's instruction to avoid wandering.

"Finally, we offer several one G suites for travelers who would rather enjoy the spectacle with more luxurious planet-like accommodations. I know you have already ordered a fuel top-off, please inform us when will be appropriate for the transfer."

"Thank you very much for such a warm and courteous welcome. I'm Shawn, but most folks call me TOG."

"TOG?"

"The Old Guy."

She laughs merrily at this, "You don't look a day over 50."

"Bit over a decade, Ma'am."

Her laughter doesn't subside, "Well, we will endeavor to call you what you wish, Shawn or TOG... we prefer not to set our own preconceptions about you ahead of actually getting to know you."

For all the friendliness, this attitude worries me... is she another one of those MARC people?

"Thank you, Ma'am. TOG will do just fine. Is there anything else? I would like to see about one of those rooms if it has an actual grav-feed shower."

She smiles warmly, "Your are in for a treat. Come this way."

We walk together to a small reception desk... suddenly, she pauses. "Mr. TOG, you know, Valinor Aerospace is always looking for qualified candidates. If you are interested, I could forward your particulars to corporate."

"Thanks, Ma'am, but I'm gainfully employed. I've seen your headquarters from the air, if I reconsider, I know where to find it."

"Fair enough." To the girl behind the reception desk, she continues, "Geani, this gentleman desires one of our full grav suites. Would you be so kind as to get him signed in?"

She nods and turns my way. This could be a very nice stay.

…...

Hot water pounds mercilessly on my shoulders, massaging away who knows how long worth of tensions. Yeah, I had a long hot shower while I was at the plantation last, but that seems something like a forever ago. Having the suit peeled off and just my bare skin under the drumming water is SO refreshing, it is hard to think straight about it. The architects built the shower to resemble some arboreal waterfall, following the sylvan mood that pervades everything here.

I have the interior lights off but my window curtains open to allow the brilliant planet-light to fill the room with an even bluish cast that appeals to me in a most restful way. I finally decide I should wash myself down the drain and quit the shower. The air filters are really good I here, none of that stale station air so common in orbital platforms and spacecraft in general. I would even swear there are faint scents of some exotic flora.

Laying on the bed, I discover an overwhelming urge to nap. As my eyelids get heavy, I look out at the planet with it's clearly visible terraformers and wonder at the beauty being created.

…..

The mobiglas is going nuts, "Duncan to TOG! Heellloo out there!"

"Yeah, Duncan, what's..."

"You need to get down here! Someone's attempting to break in!"

I pull my suit on and slam my feet into my boots. Running down the halls I wonder what I'll do when I get there. My sidearm isn't very useful when I don't have a helmet at hand in case I rip a wall out and dump us into space. I reach the stanchion and launch into zero G, becoming a somewhat guided missile rapidly floating towards the docking rings. There is someone at my hatch, not sure what he or she is doing.

"Hey! Stop that!" I holler before I get very close.

The face of a middle-aged male looks at me and then back down at whatever he is up to. Well, I know I'm not in the best shape, but I do intend to put up a fight.

"Get away from my ship!"

"No. Back off... you got it wrong, pal."

I'm now close enough that I slow and begin to consider how to engage. "My ship. Not yours."

"No, that one's yours," he points over his head.

"Check again."

"You have a 350r? Not likely."

"Very likely." I pull out the mobiglas and signal Duncan.

"I'm here, Duncan. Please energize the hatch and side plates with enough power to fry the intruder."

The man looks up suddenly and his hands come clear of the components.

"Done." Duncan says.

"Try it now if you are so sure," I suggest.

He stares back, face blank.

"I rather not get into a battle, but you are going to leave my ship alone or one of us will be in an infirmary or worse. Would you rather I contact the station authorities to have you removed?"

Still no reply and he hasn't moved.

"Okay, your choice." I back up a bit and begin to key the station on my mobi.

If looks could kill, right about now I'd be a corpse... but my opponent pushes off from his place at my hatch and across the stanchion to another 350, easily opens the hatch, and slides in.

"Duncan, please let me in now. No electricity, please."

"Safe to reenter."

I hold up my passkey and signal with the mobi at the same time. The hatch opens and I am barely in when an alarm sounds in the stanchion. I punch the emergency close and am suddenly aware that the stanchion outside has explosively decompressed from the other 350R leaving without proper deinterface... had I been in the tunnel, I would now be dying a horrible death in the void.

…..

"Shawn Ryan to Kree'Gna."

Seconds pass.

Now it's more like minutes, he must be in a sleep cycle.

Duncan interrupts my considerations, "The station is trying to contact you."

"Open it. And turn grav on, please."

"...pond! This is H3RS Con to Terran 4009.714! TOG? You still there? Please respond!"

Sounds like a loop, but I take a seat in the big chair and key up anyway, "Yes, sir, 'fraid so."

"Good! We show an explosive decompression in your stanchion and were unable to account for your whereabouts. Are you okay?"

"A bit shaken... but not stirred."

"Come again?"

I think my joke just sailed past their window. "I'm doing okay, all things considered."

There is an edge to her voice, "We show the craft that had just docked left without a complete disconnect from their ring. Have any idea what happened?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure this is the right way to talk about it."

"Can you disconnect from your current ring and head for stanchion one, ring two?"

"Sure," I reply. "Duncan? I show the docking ring still attached, please release it."

It is taking unexpectedly long for such a simple task.

Duncan finally gives me the status, "Actually, the ring is still attached and will not disconnect. We'll have to land where it can be pulled."

"It won't work with manual?"

"Well, you're free to try it if my word isn't good enough."

I blow a raspberry at the console speaker as if Duncan were trapped inside the housing and rise from the chair again. The ring connection pins should be able to retract manually with a lever set into the wall... but said lever acts as if it were bolted down.

"Not working for you either?" Duncan asks in mock surprise.

"No, but you wouldn't have respected me in the morning if I didn't try."

"And I thought you didn't care."

I sit back into the pilot seat and decide that's enough harassment for now, "Bite m e, Duncan."

I key the station back up and give them the news, "Well... it looks like the ring is still attached and it isn't disconnecting properly."

"Just a minute, let me check with the director."

I have to wonder... was the decompression an accident because the ring wouldn't disconnect properly, was it an attempt to kill me in the tube, or was it something else altogether?

"Still there? TOG? H3RS Con, I've got you cleared to land on platform two, shadow side, just below the microwave domes. Doors will open at 100 meters, please approach at no more than ten meters per second. Autopark will take over at ten meters, please be on momentum only at that point."

"Copy." I pull the stick.

Duncan picks this moment to remind me, "You never checked in."

"Ooops." Security is security.

"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."

Now the ship responds and I float the Ghost down to line up.

"Kree'Gna is calling Shawn Ryan."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. You attempted to contact me?"

"Yeah, I was going to ask if you could contact someone about a 350r that just left this station."

He sounds sleepy as he asks, "Something wrong?"

"Well, aside from someone almost killing me, no, not really."

"What?" Alarm is beginning to override sleepiness, "How long ago?"

I think about it, "Fifteen, twenty stamin."

"Did you get identifying data?"

"Not yet, but I'll be talking with security here shortly, I'll get you more after that."

"Human, Xi'An, or...?" He leaves the question dangling.

"Looked like a runaway white boy."

"Ah. Good. I will contact our navy to make sure no more 350s get out before you can give me details. Please contact me as soon as you know for sure."

"Will do. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

I'm approaching at 6 mps, well below what they required. The doors are already opened to show a brightly lit and well appointed bay; it has just enough room for maybe a freelancer to sit sideways, otherwise it should hold two of this class craft. Even on the outside, I can see the botanical curves and branchings in even the least significant details. Gotta hand it to them, their architects created a functional beauty quite unlike anything I have seen before.

I adjust my approach angle just a bit to flatten the vector out, then kill my thrusters completely. Just before I can cross the threshold, I feel the tug as the remote takes over with the mag and grav fields to shift me to the fighter sized landing pad numbered "2a" in pulsing blue letters.

It is only as I settle onto the pad and feel external gravity taking over that Kree'Gna's question suddenly strikes me as odd... he had taken the precaution of asking, "Human, Xi'An, or...?" Why would he think a Xi'An might want to kill me?