There isn't much like a bad night's sleep to make getting up in the morning into an ordeal roughly equivalent to boxing with a bear. Okay, I guess the bed won't eat me when I lose, but still, it doesn't seem inclined to let me up without a fight. Of course, now that I see Camilla looking like she could take on said bear, getting up doesn't seem like such a good idea.

She seems to be chastising me in a language I don't understand, maybe I can just get away with looking sheepish. Nope, she shifts to English and seems to be on a roll, "And they landed on my flowerbed and not the pad they belonged on! I won't have you partying all night and your drunk mistress landing wherever, especially when I've been trying to help you back to health!"

She shifts angrily back into whatever before I interrupt, "That was Gloria and she is NOT MY MISTRESS! Now slow down and speak so I can understand you."

"You said that before, you lying whoaho! You had a woman here last night, I heard her laughing!"

"Only when I gave Liao a hard time."

"Liao, who is she?"

"He is someone who was in to interrogate me."

"Interrogate?"

"He and Gloria work for the same people."

"Spies?"

"I guess, kinda."

"And they don't know how to land on a pad?" She sounds dubious.

"I don't know why they didn't use the pad, they don't ask my permission for anything, they just show up."

"Well, you tell them for me that they are to use the proper pad next time or I'll personally give them a piece of my mind!"

I chuckle, the imagined confrontation between Gloria and Camilla actually leaves me with some doubt about who would come out on top. Of course, my light laughter earns me a glare from Camilla in the here and now. "If I get a chance I'll tell her. Actually, I bet they have the place bugged, so you can probably just tell her right now."

This foolishness on my part earns me a chance to listen to this otherwise friendly young woman venting her ire in the most ridiculous manner. She strides from object to object, speaking loudly enough to each that I bet pickers in the fields can hear her clearly.

…..

I am climbing slowly through the lower atmosphere, enjoying the blue of an oxygen rich sky dotted occasionally with the brilliant white puffy clouds and towering thunderheads. It actually seems difficult to keep my eager craft from leaping into the star-filled blackness beyond. I may enjoy being on terra firma with an honest shower and consistent gravity, but I absolutely love the heavens beyond the thin atmospheres. There, the Banner resonates with an almost sacred music of beauty as billions of fiery orbs burn all about. There is something about the seeming permanence beyond the stellar system, planets may grow and fade as I race along, but the Great Banner is always there and I move not against it. Only beyond a jump do things change, only to remain the same until the next fold in time and space.

…..

Kree'Gna isn't back yet, so I'm going to take a few days to just wander...

Duncan interrupts my musings, "Incoming signal on prime sequence."

"Who?"

"Unidentified."

That isn't right, "Source?"

"In system, somewhere back near Terra."

"Do not allow connection. Null reply."

"Copy."

Who would have the sequence Kree'Gna and I have set, but not identify themselves?

Okay, the MARC people would. Anyone else? Would whomever tried to kill me have access to it? What about the other Xi'An?

I suddenly feel very alone out here...

…..

At the edge of Terra's Kuiper Belt there is little between me and the vastness of space beyond. At full throttle with unlimited fuel, I might make the next star system in a couple of decades, but this is also the least explored zone around one of the most explored systems in our jump accessible galaxy.

Out here, Terra itself seems dimmer than several of the blue massives that hang about in the core of our galactic radial arm.

I'm watching the sensor noise, looking for any undiscovered jump points, debris, or even interesting orbital bodies when I notice something moving at max range... moving with a purpose and not an orbit. I watch for maybe twenty seconds... the pilot is hunting for something... or someone. I pivot my craft and begin to accelerate.

He or she is fast approaching the point where a good pilot with even average sensors will spot... yup, course changed, he or she is headed right at me. No call, no ID, just turning and obvious throttles up.

Now I admit to a bit of nonchalance up to this point; I'm in a 350r, one of the fastest craft humans make, I have burners on and spare fuel tanks so I can reach and maintain frame max long before most other craft. Add to this knowledge the fact that I'm already accelerating and perhaps you understand that this should put me out of the reach of all but a few craft in moments. All I need to worry about is dodging the rather common boulders of ice and dust, plus the occasional nomad asteroid.

I push to my tolerance level and the flight suit adjusts so I can handle the accumulating G forces: 4.7, 4.8, 5.0... a bit of color loss, but...

Duncan chimes in, "Missile lock."

What? There on the sensors I can see that instead of having lost my pursuit, the bogey is actually gaining on me. It does seem like the missile track is just a little off center, I'll need to course correct to use the burners to wash it.

"Range of missile?" I ask while changing my alignment.

"580 meters and closing."

"Target?"

"Four klicks and closing."

"How did he get a shot off?"

"Good sensors?"

I'm afraid I have to agree. "Okay, call at 300 meters."

"275."

I push the afterburners and am almost instantly sledding at frame max.

"Missile detonation. But you might say something to your pursuit, they seem intent on meeting you."

"Run an ID scan on them, please."

"No problemo, boss."

My pursuit is not losing ground, but now he or she is no longer gaining. Unfortunately, we are now reaching a snowball field, tearing along at a large fraction of light speed.

Well... "snowball" makes it sound like something kids toss at each other during a playful romp in an idyllic winter setting. Out here, what we know as 'snowballs' are what the planet-bound call 'comets'. They are all but invisible until they are the size of the average frigate, you scan your sensors and pray you guess the rotational and orbital mechanics right to stay clear. Let's just say that you don't think of kids or fun when you consider plowing into a small one at even a few hundred meters a second, much less 3,000 kilometers a second.

I put my sensors on max front and try to peer forward as far as enhanced detection will allow.

Nose and right thrusters respond as I sense more than recognize a ping ahead. Moments later I swish past a behemoth the size of a Constellation, that was clo... right this time... now right again. Invisible course corrects from a twitch response born of too many close calls. The Ghost responds as if she were a living beast, eager to run ahead of the pack, straining at her limitations for the chance to run free.

I've had two close calls with snowballs larger than the ship and am wondering how long I'll be able to keep up the intense focus I need to continue when I suddenly clear the belt and turn for the race to Navy or Advocacy patrolled space.

"Range to target?"

"Target is no longer in pursuit."

"What?"

"Your target disengaged when you entered the snowball patch."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"You needed the flight practice."

"Is there anything else you didn't tell me?"

"Nope."

"So no ID on the craft?"

"Sure, got that."

"But you didn't tell me."

"No, I did; you were just too focused keeping your rump from having an undesired introduction to some random solid object to notice that I said anything."

"You did not."

"I did. According to my recordings, you said 'Uhhh' and left it at that." He actually plays the sound of my voice so there is little doubt that I was too distracted to notice.

"Well, okay. I grant I missed it. Would you please answer me now?"

"It was an M50 with UEEN tags."

"Navy again."

"Ya sure, you betcha."

…..

I'm starting to get a bit uneasy about my situation... and the more I think about it the more this unease plays tidal wave over my emotions. What I know is that I've had two serious attempts on my life in the last few weeks. Perhaps more importantly, as far as I can tell, it's not by folks I would expect to have any reason to be nervous about. I have to assume that it is related to flying wing for Kree'Gna... well... to be fair, I have hunted bounties for a lot of years, there are probably more than a few folks who would want me dead.

I'm still running at frame max, sensors fore and aft for any sign of pursuit... but none materializes.

The thought that it might be some sort of vengeance suggests an action: if there is a contract out on me from my past business dealings, I might be able find out about it. On the other hand, I need to stay alive long enough to actually talk with folks. If my opponents are willing to launch first another 350r and now an M50 after me, what is next?

Who can I call on short notice? Jenks would be my old first contact, but if I'm being tracked this closely, it wouldn't take much to figure out that the old Banu might be a source I'd likely check in with. Can I trust him if the other side offers him more than I can? No, I've made Jenks a lot of profit over the years, but nothing lately... better to let him be.

Anya is loyal, but not likely to be still in touch with the seamy side of the empire. Last time we talked about her old sources, she was obviously eager to stay clean and unwilling to do more than offer me sex.

My situation is hazardous. I need information but have none. The whole situation smells like a trap to me, though I can't see just what it is. Who can I ask?

"Duncan, are the MARC listening devices still active?"

"Yup, it appears the darn things are sucking power and tracking everything."

"Would they be aware of our little reception on the other side of the snowball field?"

"Maybe I wasn't clear: they are monitoring everything on this ship. Ev-er-y-thing."

That gives me an idea, "Gloria. Oh, Gloria. I've been struck at again. If you want me to not just give up and go back to being a nobody, I need some answers and maybe even some help."

"You do know that it isn't broadcasting that."

"Yup, but I know where to go to have it picked up."

…..

The corridor is empty and I'm walking as if confidently towards a door. This is the Terra Prime Covalex, a place I know most of... just not the off-ship sleeping quarters. My mobi simply said room C17 and I'm hoping it was Gloria's invitation; if it wasn't, I'm likely about to die. The closer I get to the opening, the more I want to run screaming the other way.

Open whisks the portal... to my relief, I see Gloria lounging on a couch across the room.

My next step carries me past a movement I sense but don't identify... there is a sharp prick at the back of my neck and barely a couple heartbeats later I'm sinking into darkness. I recognize Gloria's smile but something is odd about it; nothing else registers as the room spins into a dizzying nightmare of sounds and pain.

…..

Familiar voices slip in and out as I'm aware of either a horrible dream or a nightmare reality. I think I've been slapped or punched; if not, then something in whatever this drug is makes me feel like I'm under furious assault. Even worse is that my eyes seem unable to open, deepening the sensation of being under siege. I finally slip away from my senses and the pain again.

…..

It's quiet. I'm not aware of much other than a throbbing pain that seems to cover all of my head and limbs.

"Can you hear me?" A man's voice asks.

"Uhnnn..." is all I can get out.

"I will take that as a yes, TOG." My eyes still won't work, but in spite of the familiarity the tone is dangerously in control.

"Uhhh, Iiiiii..."

"You are having trouble speaking. That is actually good, the less you say, the better I like it. I will ask you questions and you will nod or shake your head. If you don't, this..." there is a sharp ear-ringing blow to my right temple, "... will happen to you. Do you understand?"

I manage to nod.

"Good, let's begin. You are an..."

Something odd happens and his voice dies mid sentence. I imagine there was a hint of gasp as silence falls again. A firm hand grips my neck for a moment, then slips away as if its owner had fallen asleep.

There is another prick, this time in my upper arm.

A somewhat familiar voice says quietly, "You will feel better after you sleep this off, but know that you are safe Shawn Ryan."

As I fade, I would swear that the speaker has a Xi'An accent, but I don't last long enough to recognize whom.

…..

I seem to be stumbling along, helped by folks on both sides... my vision is blurry and my mind even more so.

I think I've reached a ship of some kind; at least wherever I am has that ship smell. I'm gently laid down onto something softer than a deck plate... someone is trying to talk to me but it seems they are getting farther and farther away.

…..

I'm diggin' puds in the afternoon glare. The vile odors they give off rise from the warm muck and make the dank air fetid. It seems like a long time since I had to dig these horrid things, but there's Da, raisin' heck that I'm not doing it faster. I note that he has us out in the ankle deep pud paddy while he stays put on the lower dam wall, but I know better than to try to use that against him.

It's strange, now he keeps asking something that just doesn't make sense, "Why were you calling Gloria?"

I glance down at my shovel and I'm suddenly standing in the RRS septic sludge pond. Looking up, my antagonist has changed, now it's my old warden... but oddly, he is still asking something that is out of place, "Why were you wanting Gloria's help and not ours?"

The odors from the sewage are all but painful, it's a wonder they don't drive me nuts.

The Warden seems to want to reason, "Gloria obviously betrayed you, don't you know you can't trust her?"

Something in my brain rebels against the images and my warden vanishes as my eyes open... to see Ksan Ko'Kree obviously waiting for me to answer. An involuntary shudder hits and I can see that he noticed it, too.

Nodding, he says quietly, "You've survived a lot. Perhaps you need rest while we get you to safety."

"Where's my ship?"

"Kree'Gna took it to the Embassy."

"How?"

"You helped him."

"Oh. Well, where are you taking me?"

"You will know when you get there. For now, rest and let those drugs wear off. When you are hungry, signal the nurse; I'll leave orders for you to have human food."

He stands, walks to the doorway where a burly Xi'An female seems to stand guard, converses quietly with her, then leaves. For the moments the door is open, I am inundated with sights and sounds that imply incongruity. I'm obviously in a Xi'An craft; but though the room is larger and well appointed for medical needs, what I could see out the door seems more like a mid sized merchantman... or one of the Xi'An equivalents thereof.

An alarm of some sort sounds and the nurse approaches. Most of what she says has a thick accent that leaves my limited Xi'An even more confused than normal... until she says we are going to use a jumppoint. That I get. That I understand. And as she reaches out and straps me to my bunk, the fact we are jumping strikes me as wrong.

…..

Each craft has its own song when it traverses a jump lane. Oddly enough, I've never made the jump in a Xi'An craft... and if this one is singing, it is for different tastes than mine. She screams and howls with unseen stresses and tension. She moans with displeasure at every nuance of the pilot's dance or at least the navi-computer's copy.

I really hate being a passenger during a jump, and rarely submit to enduring the experience; the passage is so much more enjoyable from the cockpit. This prone position, under restraint no less, seems to multiply the discomfort and make me a bit queasy. Of course, I can still feel the drugs, so that may simply be making things much more disorienting.

We are back in normal space. The rush ended as abruptly as it began and my nurse reappears and releases me.

"Think I can make a bathroom run?" I ask innocently.

She doesn't seem to understand and I wonder if she understands English at all. I try again in my broken Xi'An. She points to an old fashioned space privy in a corner. The kind without privacy... of any kind. I look back at her emotionless face and wonder if she wants to stay while I take care of my needs.

I say the Xi'an equivalent of "May I have some...," it takes a minute to remember the word, but I finally do, "... Privacy?"

This brings an unexpected call on a comm device like our mobi... and Ksan Ko'Kree suddenly whisks into the room.

He looks my way and then asks the nurse a question. She answers and he laughs... well, a Xi'An laugh.

He waves her out of the room and says, "She does not understand your customs, she thought you were asking for intimacy."

He seems to think the whole thing is humorous, and I take the occasion to ask, "So, what is the big deal? Why all the mystery?"

"Someone wanted to talk with you," he says, without any hint of emotion.

"Where's Kree'Gna?"

"He'll be along shortly." I take a breath to ask another question, but he continues, "I thought you needed to take care of your functions." He has a point.

"May I have some privacy, then?"

"No."

This is an unexpected reply. "No? Why not?"

"For your own safety."

"What? I've been using toilets in space for something like forty-five years and never had a problem with safety."

"On a Xi'An craft?"

"You can't tell me we are that different, or you wouldn't have the privy over there."

"That is for you."

"So it is for me and it is unsafe?"

"No, it is for you and you may need protection from yourself."

His reasoning is beyond me. "What? This whole situation is crazy, what is going on?"

"Are you are spy?"

"I thought we went through this already. MARC has me bugged and I tell all you guys everything. I don't think either of you trusts me on my own, so you also both get to see the same data that the other gets."

"Your call to Gloria sounded rather like that is not true."

"What? Why?"

"Your words were, and I quote, 'If you want me to not just give up and go back to being a nobody, I need some answers and maybe even some help.' You did not call Kree'Gna."

"Because he is supposed to be out of system and our sequence seemed to have been compromised. I was chased into a snowball field at a large fraction of C, the pilot seems to have wanted me dead, and I'm lookin' for any and all allies to keep me alive. Why would that not make sense to you?"

"It does not matter if it makes sense to me, the one who sent for you will decide if you are as you say."

I roll my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Unfortunately, my stomach needs me to forgo privacy and I head for the corner.

…..

"How many more jumps until we meet our special someone?" My question is more to kill time that an expectation of an answer from my new warden.

He surprises me with, "We are in system after that last jump."

I think through the systems a jump away from Terra and figure that both Goss and Kilian are unlikely. I hazard a guess, "Kiel or Baker?"

He shakes his leathery head and does that Xi'An chuckle thing, "You were out for a while, Shawn Ryan. We have arrived at Rihlah."

"What? Why am I out here? They may be tying to kill me, but who gave you the right to haul me over the border?"

"You did."

"The hades I did."

"You accepted an Imperial contract. According to its terms, we have the right, even the responsibility, to rescue our contractors from danger."

"Well, why didn't you just leave me at the embassy?"

He looks at me like he did early in our first meeting; it is a cold almost lifeless expression that is a bit unsettling. In perfect English he says, "Because 'rescue' is such a flexible term and we wish to apply some of its more arcane concepts."

"Well, there's some misleading fine print and that's no lie."

"You are wanting to make things easier? Answer all our questions."

"Ask."

"Our, not just my. Once we are onworld, you will have your chance when we are assembled."

"Will I get to talk with Kree'Gna?"

"No. Maybe after. You will not get coaching from him or anyone else. You are isolated from help and alone."

There is a chill in his tone that leaves my stomach on a fast elevator down. I'm tempted to put on a false bravado, but I'm not a good liar and I have no doubt that he will know.

…..

The feel of real gravity is good and walking helps release some of my tension. The fact that I'm walking between two strong naval types down a long corridor doesn't reduce the relief. I may be walking to my doom, but at least it isn't in a box and I still can hope that I can persuade whomever that I am not a spy or whatever. The tube is well lit and seems to go on forever. Ever so often, there are smallish portals offering quick glimpses of the planet outside.

Thing is, even seeing out doesn't help. I don't know where we are, or even which planet this is. All I could tell is that this isn't a port city. It seems temperate, but there were what looked like snow-laden hills not too far away. Of course, that could all be projected and I could be just outside the main spaceport, but it would take an extreme conspiratorial mindset to go so far.

Walking along, I unexpectedly find myself thinking about Gloria and her smile as I entered the room. Something about that smile bothers me; she knew that she was happily about to betray me to their interrogators without batting an eye or coming to my defense. Now that I think about it, I wonder why she never spoke up, even to taunt me. For that matter, why didn't she put up a fight when the Xi'An team moved in? Had she already left?

I feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle when we finally reach a bend in the tunnel and I glance back... I can't see the landing terminal... how far have I come? Ksan Ko'Kree is maybe ten meters back, confidently watching my escort and I. I try my best not to look nervous, but I suspect I'm failing.

…..

A door slides open and I enter in a dimly lit room with many sitting about a table. I notice two things very quickly: they are all wearing cowls that effectively hide their faces and every one I can see well enough has the 'Seer' glyph on their collar.

A dark shadow approaches, what light there is misses his face completely. He stops and I hear faint laughter.

Slowly, he reaches up to his hood and draws it back... revealing the knarled leather, sharpened teeth, and penetrating red eyes of Dnong Ksack.

Something in me snaps into place; I smile, ignore the implied danger, and boldly greet the cranky old lizard, "Dnong Ksack, Shē'sueren."

There is a hint of what could be surprise in his expression... well, it would have been if it were Kree'Gna. "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren," he says with a dryness that whispers of bones in the desert, a tone completely devoid of surprise. His stare seems to evaluate me again. For at least a minute we stand still, then he turns sharply and over his shoulder says, "Ith lakshore" (roughly translated, "follow me").

I have little doubt he means me; I walk with my head high as if I were unafraid... and perhaps my mood actually helps me let my fear go. I'm here because I was willing to serve my friend; if that is what I wind up suffering for, there are far worse things to be guilty of. My dragonskin boots are silent on the floor, as are whatever Dnong Ksack wears... the room itself is soundless as we move around the table to a place near its head. As I go, I count... there are twelve, no, now thirteen sitting, with two seats open where Dnong is headed plus the one usually considered the seat of greatest honor.

Dnong motions me to a seat and takes the one next to it. Turning to face my perch, I realize that Ksan Ko'Kree is one of the thirteen Seers in repose around the table surface. Okay, I can actually only spot him because he's the only one present who has laid his cowl back, but that gives me two here that I can name. These Seers may be hostile, but names have great meaning to the Xi'An and knowing them may yet help me here.

Silence reigns.

Judging by some of the cowl positions, some of the Seers are looking directly at me, though in this light it might be that all of them are... the shadows must be meant to keep me guessing... or intimidate me... or both.

Something out of my distant past strikes me. This is like being moved into a new bunk house in the RRS compound. There's danger, but maybe opportunity as well. No fear, that is what I learned so long ago; show no fear. What would be the most unexpected thing for me to do if I were nervous or afraid? This crowd doesn't seem likely to appreciate a good joke, and impersonations might get me in even greater trouble. I could sing a song, that would surely startle them... but maybe that would backfire if I choose the wrong song. There must be something.

A lively old tune from my childhood begins to run around in my head like fairies dancing about a fire in an ancient children's tale. The stupid ear worm seems to grow in power and intensity as the minutes drag on with only the faintest sound of my breathing and maybe a Xi'An chuckle or two. Finally, I can't stand it any longer and I start to whistle it.

Every cowl comes around and there is no doubt now that I have their attention. Oddly, I'm just relaxing as the tune flushes away my wariness and worry. It is a happy tune and I have to admit that I'm smiling as much as whistling allows.

To my right a couple bodies down, a deep bass note begins... it resonates through the room and I realize the one making the sound is adjusting it until it is in tune with my notes. It becomes a tonic drone that seems to bring even more life into the tune.

Another voice across the table adds what becomes the fifth and I'm all but dancing as I whistle like I've never done before.

"Enough!" Dnong Ksack shouts all but in my ear. Silence slices the vibrant sounds like a guillotine and I'm left barely daring to breathe, just staring at his wizened features.

A door slides open and a figure in resplendent garments enters. All stand swiftly and I decide it's best to do the same. As the new arrival reaches the seat of honor, the lights come up and I see Civil Service and Imperial NestLine glyphs, plus one I don't recognize. In otherwise muted Xi'An society, the color patterns and saturation in this Xi'An's tunic and robe are like a flood of life. Everyone else is bowing, I do the same. This must be someone important... and I hope not hostile.

It looks my way for what might be a minute or an hour. Finally, a strong and ancient female voice says simply, "Shē'sueren." She takes a seat and all the assembled follow suit, myself included.

The two Seers on either side are whispering and I'm not trying to hear what. It does occur to me that whoever she is, she has no Seer glyph showing anywhere on her person.

"Why did you make those sounds?" she asks me without preamble.

"The whistling?" I append, "Your Highness?"

She smiles, but looks to the Seer beside her. His nose markings seem rather blotchy blue on dark green with just a bit of yellow and red in places. He seems to be struggling with an answer.

Ksan Ko'Kree seems to know their difficulty and speaks up with something in Xi'An that I sure don't understand... but she obviously does and looks again at me. "Yes, the wishing. Why did you wishing?"

Correcting the pronunciation seems pointless, so I answer, "It seemed to me that we could use a tune to relax. It was getting' pretty somber in here. Whatever I was brought here for, I might as well face it with some joy."

Again, there is a consultation.

Blue nose finally states, "You are a strange human."

I smile, "Yup."

This is obviously not the answer he expected.

Across from me, a cowl slips back and the oldest Xi'An I think I've ever seen addresses me, "Do you often chose to make light of serious things? Have you no respect?"

"Shē'sueren," I reply. "I do not make light, but I have not been advised of the nature of my presence here as being so serious. Ksan Ko'Kree has basically said that if I answer all the questions, things will be easier. Why should I be concerned? I have been honest with my friend Kree'Gna and served him to the best of my ability. If honoring a friend so is such a serious matter, then I might as well whistle and have fun because I'm in big trouble.

Something about this surprises the ancient questioner and he looks back at the honored one.

Dnong Ksack clears his throat and all look at him. Staring at me, he asks clearly, "Are you a spy?"