I look Dnong Ksack in the eye. "Well, considering that these MARC folks seem to be using me for intel and you guys are too, then yes, I guess as some basic level you could say I am a spy."

"Do you work for the OES?"

Where have I heard that acronym? "I'm not sure what 'OES' is, sir."

"Office of Executive Services."

"Are they part of MARC?"

There is a hint of testiness in his voice, "I am asking the questions."

"Sorry, sir. No, never heard of them."

"Have you ever worked for the Marsalis Shipping Corp?"

"Name is familiar, but I don't know all the folks I've flown wing for in the last forty or so standards. I bet Kree'Gna could check the UEE Contractor's Master Activity Logs. They tax us with that and I bet they keep the data forever."

The ancient seer across the table makes an odd sound and Dnong looks over at him and does the Xi'An version of a nod.

The old one asks, "Why did Kree'Gna seek you out?"

"We used to fly together, first as partners in my ship, later as a team. In hindsight, I guess he thought he could trust me as well as any human he knows."

"Why did you agree to fly his wing?"

"I enjoy escort work on courier runs. it's all about the speed..."

He leans forward, "Do you still 'enjoy' the contract?"

I know my face has fallen, but a flood of weariness has swept over me. "The honest answer is 'no', sir."

"Why?"

"Aside from suddenly becoming a serious target, it seems like between you folks and the ones from MARC, my life isn't my own anymore. You all seem to have rights to me and I'm stuck because I gave Kree'Gna my word. It doesn't seem..."

The honored colorful one interrupts, "You would wantonly leave an Imperial contract?"

I look her way and truthfully answer, "I'm glad to try to protect my friend, but that was all I signed on for. If that isn't good enough, His Highness should find me unworthy and release me from His contract. Of course, after the MARC folks and your Seers got involved and I got the contract, I actually haven't even been paid... so I could also just consider it breach of contract and leave with my honor intact."

She asks something and I would swear that Ksan Ko'Kree's answer is as close to sheepish as I've ever heard.

To me she says, "We will remedy that oversight."

I bow in her direction, "Mahhragna ith ilxag."

To Dnong, she says, "Tash" (or "Continue").

…..

I don't know how many hours or days I've been here. I'm tired and can hardly remember when I last had a meal or even water. The seers are still watching, seemingly observing my every nuanced expression. The questioning has rotated several times to others, especially the ancient creature across the table.

Right now, it's Dnong Ksack's turn again and hes offering a seemingly endless list of names that I might recognize.

"Fatima Al-Zafira?"

"Waitress at the Mars Covalex platform... no, wait, that is Fatima Al-Aribia. I don't think I know an Al-Zafira."

As if uninterested in my answer, he continues, "Isoruku Matsushima."

"No, sir." Have I maybe ever met any of these folks? I sure don't recognize their names.

"George Herman Ruth?"

"No, sir."

I would swear he is leaning towards me a hint more. In fact, the room is so still I think they are holding their collective breath in anticipation of the next name.

"Jenk Gallen?"

"No, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"If I ever met him or her, I never learned the name."

"Tobias Yakamura?"

"No, sir."

"Nicholas..."

The old Seer across the table makes a slight gesture and Dnong turns to face him. He makes a Xi'An gesture for "No" and Dnong Ksack looks back at me.

"Enough names."

…..

I still don't know any of the Seers' names save the two I already knew when I arrived. I'm starting to wonder if I will live to leave this room. I'm sure from the gurgles and subsonic quakes my stomach is providing that I've been here well past meal time, but I still see no pattern in their questions that might hint at my fate. The questions have been about everything, from my family ties or lack thereof, to my Banu contacts and jump-point knowledge; heck, there were even an odd smattering of questions bent on wheedling out the little I know about the Kr'Thak and Krell.

The colorful honored one suddenly stands and comments, "Molath" (roughly, "dinner"). The rest of us rise and bow. The brightly adorned member of the imperial family turns and exits the way she came in, with no courtesy extended to any of us.

…..

The majority of the Seers have adjourned, probably for food of their own liking. I sit with only Ksan Ko'Kree and one burly uniformed female who is posted at the main door.

"I remember why Kree'Gna likes you so much: you are brutally honest, even when it makes you look bad," a tone of acceptance dances around the edge of his words. "It's too bad those MARC agents don't recognize your worth."

I'm about to reply when the door opens and another uniform carries plates and goblets to the both of us. I see his plate first, needle fish and mo smothered in xi'rrahn; the sauce I like but I hate needle fish and mo isn't much more appealing. To my complete surprise, my nose announces that my plate has steak. Correction, now that it is set in front of me, how about a monstrous prime rib? Flame broiled or I'm daft... and the goblet smells of a wonderful wine, much like those I enjoy most. A little black bottle is set beside the plate, one I'm very familiar with... bearing blood red text bowed about a white skull and crossed bones... the mark of Rat's Blood Reactor Fuel. This stuff is know even among the Xi'An as "the hottest sauce in the galaxy"... it is the epitome of chemical fire to even the most die-hard spicy food lovers, with the unique ability of turning any food nuclear without changing the flavors originally present.

This is a meal fit for... without lifting my head, I glance up and for just a moment could swear I've caught Ksan Ko'Kree with a hungry eager expression. No, maybe not; he is now his impassive self again... but the impression lingers.

The Seer resumes, "I'm beginning to understand that you really are an honest broker, sharing everything with both sides. It is too bad they weren't happy with that, but I believe we should still honor your service and continue the arrangement. Presuming everything checks out, I would like to repay your service with the craft MARC had promised but obviously were not going to give you: a new M50 Partisan."

I've seen the Partisan in the brochure, but it is normally WAY to spendy for my blood. It certainly makes the LX model I drooled over in the Origin showroom look like a weak second.

He continues, "You should be able to keep up with Kree'Gna's Xress much better, and the Partisan model is especially suited to outrunning fire while retaining the ability to shoot back effectively. We might even provide a few toys that are legal on your side of the border as a recognition that you have honored the Imperial Contract so faithfully. Are you interested?"

He seems so casual, but there's an intensity in his body language that belies his relaxed affectations. Something seems so out of place. Maybe it's me, long hours and wearying grilling could just be making me paranoid... but as I look around the now empty room, I remember that just a little while ago, I was getting all the warning signals that I was in serious trouble. Is this their version of Gloria showing up in the middle of the night and making me an offer I couldn't rationally refuse?

Finally, I answer, "This food is best eaten hot. May I think about your offer while I eat?"

"By all means," he smiles back at me.

Watching a spook to understand his real intent is like watching glowing coals to understand the nature of fire: if you are really good at it you may figure it out, but the rest of us are too easily mesmerized by the glow to understand the conflagration it represents. Fortunately, with age comes a certain respect for the fire even when I don't understand all the physics and chemistry involved. Likewise, I have seen enough official types misrepresent things, especially important ones, that I have an innate distrust of any offer that seems too good to be true. I'm completely convinced that I'm not being told everything and would hazard a guess that I'm not even being told most of it.

Across the table, Ksan Ko'Kree is making every evidence of enjoying his meal. I can't tell if he is looking my way when I glance up, but even if he isn't I doubt I'm suddenly off his radar. Maybe I should ask a question or two while he is agreeable... or at least playing at it.

"May I ask you something, Ksan Ko'Kree?"

He is evaluating now. After a long pause while he crunches another needle fish, he replies, "Perhaps."

"What is the catch?"

He seems puzzled, "Catch?"

"You are offering me something you know I may want... but you have not told me the cost. MARC wanted me to gain information, but had no problem with me telling you everything as well. While I think Her Highness expects you to pay me for my services to date, I doubt seriously that she told you to give me an M50 for just to continue the contract. Am I wrong?"

He continues to study me. "Punt," ("Continue,") is all he says.

"From where I sit, I could see what looked like an Inquisition meaning to trap me one minute, and a friendly and generous offer from you the next. It almost feels like that old holo staple: the bad cop, good cop routine. Gloria from MARC may have tried a version of the same thing trying to recruit me. Are you trying to get me to spy on my own kind in some way more than the honesty I'm already agreed to?"

The Seer takes a moment to rub his almost dinosaur-like nose, but while his intense stare continues, he makes neither sound nor further gestures.

I resume, "If I am expected to betray my own people as part of some grand game, I'm not interested. I may be little people, but I still have my honor."

"You like to say what you think."

"Yes, sir."

"And you tell them what they want to know."

"If I know the answers, yes, sir."

"Just the same as you tell us."

"Yes, sir."

"You are a lousy spy."

"I'm not interested in being a spy. I would rather just be Kree'Gna's friend and occasional wing. I didn't ask for any of this."

A long tone like an ancient temple bell reverberates through the room and moments later unseen doors open and the Seers return en mass. Oddly, a naval guard puts a heavy hand on my shoulder in the Xi'An equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. Waving me to follow, she leads to the door I originally entered by.

I rise and take a moment to bow to all present. "Athlē-korr," I say before turning to follow out into the corridor. The door whisks closed behind me and I'm left wondering if I should try to have a friendly conversation with my shadow. Well... honestly... a look her way rather convinces me that it would be a bad idea.

Outside a nearby portal, darkness now reigns. I wonder how dark it is among the Seers in the next room?

…..

Boredom set in hours ago. Actually, I think it's been hours, it is still dark out so at least it hasn't been local days.

I get no signal on the mobi... how can these creatures live like this? All I can do to entertain myself play is Sodoku or Lorii'Khan; unfortunately, after I'd solved one of each, I got bored with subsequent sets. My only change of scenery has been the occasional uniformed Xi'An; they are universally focused on something or other as they stride obliviously by.

My escort seems almost meditative, she has moved so little. I do know she isn't asleep, when I stand to stretch my legs, her eyes follow me even though the rest of her seems carved from stone. I don't test just how far I can go without her coming after me. Heck, I'm still not even sure where I am on Rihlah... or if I'm on Rihlah at all.

…..

At the edge of my perception, a deep vibration is rising. I don't get the sense that it has happened suddenly, just that I've finally noticed it. I'm lying on the floor, resting at the edge of sleep, but I can now clearly hear something vaguely familiar. My guard has come to attention, maybe I need to at least stand up.

I certainly feel stiff, rising is not the easiest thing I can do these days, and the chill stone beneath me didn't do me any favors in the aches and pains department.

Now I remember, it sounds like that urggh thing. Are there males in there fighting?

The sound dies suddenly and the door whisks open. Dnong Ksack faces me with an impassive look, saying nothing.

"How may I assist you, sir?" I ask, figuring the silence is there to intimidate, not to make me any more comfortable.

No answer.

The room behind him is darkened, I can't really tell if anyone is still there or what they might be doing.

Finally, "I will still be watching you. I still doubt you are what you claim." With these words hanging in the air, he turns and strides away.

"Shawn Ryan, please return to your place," a familiar voice calls. I hesitate and am immediately reminded that I'm not alone; my escort firmly nudges me towards the portal.

The room is mostly dark, but as I enter, the lights come up some. Dnong Ksack's seat and mine are the only ones still open. The colorful one is in attendance, and she gestures towards the seat I had occupied. Before I can sit, the ancient seer across the table rises and gestures to me to remain standing.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I am Toth Anddag, Eldest Seer of the Outer Ring."

Bowing, I respond in kind, "Toth Anddag, Shē'sueren. I am greatly honored."

He nods, "You are a strange creature. We wish to study your behavior as you serve Kree'Gna. It is the decision of the Outer Ring that you are to remain under the Imperial Contract if you so choose. You will be provided with the missing compensation and a human craft as Ksan Ko'Kree has spoken, even if you do not wish to continue the contract. We are aware that your life has been attacked because of your service and our honor dictates that honorable service of His Imperial Majesty's representatives be repaid fairly."

"Thank you, sir. I don't need the ship, I'm okay with what I have..."

He raises a hand to stop me. "It is Her will," he says while bowing slightly towards the colorful one.

"Mahhragna ith ilxag," I offer, while bowing her way and hoping I haven't just crossed some line of propriety... I don't even know her name.

There's a bit of a nod my way but she says nothing.

Toth Anddag, however, does speak, "You have been heard, Shawn Ryan."

I bow his way also.

The Imperial She rises suddenly and all the Seers do likewise. In a moment, She is gone, again without any hint of courtesy to the others assembled here.

"Do you have questions, Shawn Ryan?" Toth asks as everyone else settles back onto their seats.

"When do I get to go back to working with Kree'Gna?"

"After we have provided you with your compensation."

"I have to wait here for that?"

He does the Xi'An chuckle and I would swear that more than a few others do too. "No, Shawn Ryan. You will travel on the Mosh Nog, a small warship that is headed to the Imperial depot at Indra where your new craft will waiting. Unfortunately, the Mosh Nog has an errand or two along the frontier, but it will take at least one a'tēēl (the Xi'An week of ten days, aka. a 'dekaday') for your craft to be prepared so the delay should not alarm you. Kree'Gna will meet you once you have picked up your craft.

"A warship?" I have a bad feeling about this.

"Yes, it is deemed best."

I try to put a spin on my uncertainty that will keep from directly questioning why... "No human food, then?"

"We will provide human food."

I wonder if they are thinking about ten days of Torreele as human food, but I guess it's better than having to sit at table with a dozen or more hardened naval types looking at the stuff they like and having to fast.

"Stuffed into a box again?"

"No, as a guest. I regret that there are no human language fluent officers on the Mosh Nog, but you will have normal dignitary quarters and be able to move about in unsecured areas."

"No one? What if I have questions?"

"You will have to wait to ask until you reach Indra."

If I didn't know that Dnong Ksack seemed miffed when he walked out of this room, I would suddenly suspect him of being behind this somehow. Actually, I guess he still could be. I look down the table to Ksan Ko'Kree, but he is as impassive as the rest of them.

"Do I have a choice to wait for a commercial ship with someone who speaks English?"

"No."

I guess I might as well cooperate, "Okay, where is it and when do I start?"

…..

I'm not an expert on Xi'An warships, but what I can see through the shuttle windows seems to be at least a frigate. Solid and angular, it floats alongside a space-dock where arc-flash implies welding is going on. My escort is still the large female who oversaw me outside the Seer's meeting. We seem to have an uncomfortable silence thing going... I'm still hesitant to try to tell a joke and flirting is VERY not an interest, much less an option. Of course, odds are she won't understand a word even if I speak, and my Xi'An isn't good enough to try a conversation.

…..

My reception is quick and efficient, even if I don't really understand more than the few casual directions the officer gives.

I get a quick tour and the many stations occupied by obviously dedicated crew are rather impressive. The officer speaks calmly, but if I get one word in five, I'm really doing well, and one in ten or worse is more common.

Finally, I am led to my quarters and given a trans-sist; a gadget that translates, albeit poorly at times, Xi'An to something I can understand.

A klaxon, or something very much like it, sounds and I find a window seat... I love looking out at the stars and I bet now will be the perfect time to enjoy that little pleasure.

…..

There is something odd about this trip. I can't put a finger on what, but I'm certain that there are layers of ulterior motives.

We have jumped into a system that I've never seen before, and are moving among warships much bigger than the Mosh Nog... much, much bigger. It almost seems like I'm in the middle of their equivalent of Kilian... I'm thinking especially of the naval yards around MacArthur... though I don't see any actual space-docks here.

It is frustrating; I can't get the trans-sist thing to work very well and my mobi won't connect to anything, so I actually have no clue where I am.

…..

The further we go the more I have to admit that I didn't realize that they had so many capitol ships. There must be at least a hundred in the carrier and cruiser size, plus a myriad of smaller craft, both the seemingly tiny fighters and the only somewhat larger corvettes.

You know what's the most odd? We seem to be milling around near the jump point; it is as if an exercise were about to get under way or has just finished. If you had asked me before now, I would have guessed that all their naval assets together wouldn't be this big, but unless I've been jumped into the middle of an invasion fleet with almost their entire armada assembled, I was wrong.

We are approaching a massive craft, I think they are planning to dock. It must be a carrier half again larger than a Bengal, several fighter class craft are coming out of a couple different openings.

Yup, we docked. So much for my view now, I'm facing a weapons turret in the middle of a field of armor plate. I walk into the hallway, looking for a place to see out the other side, but before I can, I'm met by an officer who gestures and leads me back to my quarters.

I cynically note that the trans-sist isn't working... again. Now that I think about it, these things usually work both ways, but this one obviously doesn't. Well, actually, if I could read all the glyphs, I might be able to figure out what is going on, but without a mobi, I'm not good enough at reading conversational Xi'An to get past the first dialog.

…..

The door chimes and a female officer with a very young attendant enters. She bows and says something along the lines of, "Please forgive the interruption. Your food is here," while waving the attendant towards the table.

Hmmm... I was expecting Torreele, but this smells like grass fed beef done right over a flame.

The officer says something about the captain, maybe that he sends his greetings. Then I understand clearly when she advises me that we will jump again in a little over six standard hours. Good, I have time to eat without getting sick.

"Gath," she finally offers as the two of them bow. They turn for the doorway as I look over upon the glorious steak. That is a 600 gram slab of meat or I'm a fish. Even better, perched nearby is a bottle of Rat's Blood... probably the same one from the Seer's table. I have to admit, even with the pathetic view, I'm smiling.

…..

In the past four days, I seem to have been carted across the unknown of Xi'An space, five jumps in all. I have to believe that there are ulterior motives, this trip makes no sense otherwise. Maybe I'm supposed to report on the size of their fleet... in every system there have been numerous caps and uncountable smaller craft.

I'm beginning to wonder if I've been through the unseen Kr'Thak frontier? If so, I have to consider two more things: first, have we ever seen this kind of firepower and second, how much more dangerous must the Kr'Thak be if the Xi'An dedicate so much firepower to defend against them? This is easily several times more craft than we field against the Vandies, at least of what I know.

I'm also wondering how our fleet would manage against such overwhelming firepower if it were turned on us. Maybe that is why I'm out here... to say that when I'm asked by Gloria or whomever replaced her if she was taken out by that Xi'An rescue team.

Questions. I sure seem to have a lot more questions lately than I've found answers. I feel like I'm a pawn being moved, without anything like the real reasons why being offered. It stinks, but I'm not exactly in a position to arrest my trajectory... am I?

We are stopped at a station in a moderate geosync orbit around a green world called Eealus. I know this because I've been told in Xi'An that I actually understand; I guess all those years with Kree'Gna trying to decipher their language have made a little dent, at least with the simpler things... like numbers and place names.

This place is their primary 'nature preserve'. While I've never been down there, I remember reading that it's supposed to have a representative of every life form from every Xi'An world. Kind of a cross between a zoo and an anti-extinction enclave. I have to wonder about the cost of maintaining a world just for that, but they seem quite serious about it.

It is actually nice here, other than a rigorous customs search, I have gotten to enjoy the view for the first time in days. There aren't any warships even close to us... at least none I can see, and my cabin portals have a glorious view of the planet seemingly parked below. I do think we had a craft fly down to the surface, but I honestly don't know and no one invited me to join in, so here I am.

The door chimes and the one consistent pleasure on this trip arrives. Steak, flame broiled, medium, with nothing but Rat's Blood and a pint of Guiness to accompany it. Either they are fattening me up for some sacrifice or they're trying to keep me from getting too curious or too anxious.

…..

We are jumping again.

As a pilot, jumping's not a sensation that really gets to me... well, unless I've just eaten. I can't say the same thing about the feeling as a passenger in a strange ship, much less waking up to it in bed from a sound sleep. I feel drugged and cold, dizzy and disoriented, lost and at least a little frightened.

On and on it goes. I'm trapped in my couch, every attempt to find the floor is stymied by an inability to establish balance.

This is the forth jump since Eealus; we have to be close by now, I thought Indra was only a couple jumps from Eealus. I'm convinced that this is some kind of propaganda trip, but exactly why is beyond me. There seem to be a lot of the same kinds of ships in almost every system and I think I've even seen a carrier with imperial glyphs in three of them. I know I'm probably getting senile, but I would almost swear that the imperial barge was identical, maybe even the same ship... but why something like that would be following me around seems beyond comprehension.

The Mosh Nog groans like a woman in... um... well, nevermind. Anyway, it's howling up a storm, complaining and bucking at things my view leaves unseen. I have no doubt the Xi'An computer knows its business, but this really is unnerving not being in control or at least having a cockpit view.

While I lay here, I suddenly remember Tina, the Warden's daughter at the RRS compound. She was young and so was I... (sigh)... and that was a long time ago, four decades, maybe.

It is an odd time to feel lonely, riding some kind of quantum string thing that I barely understand across distances that defy light, letting this ship play thief to time.

I have no reason to think of Dora and my response to her, but she sneaks in unbeckoned to follow Tina. Her face comes close enough to smell, her body heat radiating where we touch.

Now I find a long line of a faces... and bodies... playing with my mind, throwing unmet yearnings at the wall of my life to splatter there in a depressing tangle.

What can I do when I can't escape my own mind?

…..

Mercifully, the jump has just ended. I rise quickly and dress, preferring my black jumpsuit to the alternatives. My portal shows us clear of the jumppoint, with what look to me to be a Night Witch squadron flying close enough that I need only my eyes to identify them. Oddly enough, there seem to to no other naval vessels; as with Eealus, we are being left relatively alone. I try my mobiglas and... YES! I have a SIGNAL! JIX!

Indra it is, my little device shows... and I realize the appropriate expression is "Finally!"

…..

I no longer suspect that I was supposed to see something, now I'm sure of it. Disembarking the Mosh Nog, who would be waiting for me? If you guessed Ksan Ko'Kree, you have scored perfect. Ok, he took the direct route and I got the tour... and why do folks get tours, you may ask? To see the sights, of course. And since the only sights I saw for days were those of warships, I have to suspect it was a not so subtle message to whomever will question me on the other end.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren," he offers, though I doubt how much peace he intends me.

I respond appropriately, "Ksan Ko'Kree, Shē'sueren," but just how true to that phrase am I being? For that matter, how honest can I be, stuck out here on another Xi'Am platform without an ally in sight? If Shē'sueren means what I learned years ago, then aren't both of us approaching the situation with less than the pledge of honor and truth Kree'Gna told me it represented?

"Please follow me, Shawn Ryan."

Xi'An appreciate honesty, maybe now is a time to display it.

"I am troubled, Ksan Ko'Kree."

"About what, Shawn Ryan?"

"What the trip I have taken was meant for? You obviously were not on my ship, and yet you are already here. I have been confined to quarters for most of the past dekaday... er... I mean a'tēēl, with nothing of interest to look at other than Eealus from above. There were no comm links available and no one who spoke English. Oh, and that trans-sist they gave me is the most worthless piece of crap, it only worked when I already knew the answers."

All this time, Ksan Ko'Kree simply smiles and does a pretty good imitation of nodding in agreement.

"Was the food acceptable?" he finally asks.

He has changed the subject. Blatantly. Either he isn't interested in answering, or he thinks I've answered my own question. Well, I guess there could have been other reasons, but none come to me right now.

"Yes, the food was excellent. As I was unable to compliment them directly, please extend my compliments to those who prepared the meals."

"It shall be done, Shawn Ryan."

We walk in silence, just the two of us... no escort at least. While he is no Vandie, I have to admit to myself that his obvious physical condition means he would have little trouble taking me out in a melee. Yeah, I know they don't do that kind of thing... normally.

"Perhaps you have seen things your kind do not see," he says without preamble. "But first, I must ask: You distrust me... why?"

I stop and he turns to face me, his features unreadable.

"Because you have given me no real reason to trust that you are not manipulating me just like Gloria did. Or that the Seers are thinking about me any different than the folks with MARC do... or did, I've got no idea what they think now. You should be honest with me, you have not trusted me since Kree'Gna first introduced me and you agree with Dnong Ksack that I must not be what I claim."

"For humans, you are old. For us, you are still immature. But unlike many of your kind, you are honest. It is hard for us to let our prejudices go so easily. Still, somehow your friendship with Kree'Gna moved you past the mindset of lesser humans. Toth Anddag spoke the truth when he said we want to study you. If more humans could be encouraged to be like what you seem to be, our empires would be forever at peace."

"So you show me eight or nine days of warships? What, you expect our prideful military to hear about it from some old guy who never served and think they should make peace?"

He laughs, turns, and starts walking again.

After I catch up, he replies, "No, Shawn Ryan. You saw Xi'An strength, but you do not know how much of it you saw, or even if we were moving the same ships for you to see in every system. I admit, your mobi was jammed so that you could not record anything; your memories are all that your interrogators will get when they grill you.

"No," he continues, "the trip was for us to watch you when you are obviously not in control. As a minor reward for your participation in that little experiment, you have seen something that many in your government appear to wish to find: the front lines of the Spirit War."

"Why would my government want to see that?"

"Because not all of them trust us. They seem to think the Kr'thak..." here he makes the Xi'An equivalent to an expression of disgust, "... could be allies of a sort. They know not what they wish. You will make peace with the Vanduul before you make allies of the Kr'thak."

We round a corner and it is suddenly obvious where we are going: a brand spanking new M50 Partisan, decked out in stealth black with Kree'Gna's glyphs and my own marks of the Goose and the High Cross.

Ksan Ko'Kree smiles and gestures to the craft, "Would you like to examine your new vessel?"

…..

From the outside, the new M50 looks like a crawling black bug compared to the much larger craft elsewhere in the gallery. The Partisan model stock has twin neutron cannons and twin missiles, but this one has dropped the missiles in favor of the Xi'An version of my long range tanks. I've never seen this type thruster before; they look unique, more Xi'An than my usual mods. I can only guess the final stage in front of the plasma nozzles is an afterburner of sorts, but like the thrusters, I have never seen their like. No, now that I think about it, I'm wrong... the tail of Kree'Gna's Xress has those same things... I think.

She sure is tiny, I guess that's tactically a good thing. It'll certainly be harder for missiles to get or maintain any kind of visual tracking lock, heck she's half the size of the 350R and black as night in the void. EM will give them a better chance, but the hull has that fancy Void Armor like the stealth Hornets use; only IR will really work well, and then probably only when it is staring down my tailpipes.

But let's face it, she wasn't designed to be a true stealth bird.

The more I look at her the more obvious it is... the simple reality is she will do one thing exceptionally well: go very fast. Not as fast as a Xress, it's true, but then again, a Xress can't maneuver for beans unless it is down into an atmosphere. That's why wingman is so important to Kree'Gna. Well, that and at least his wing will usually have weapons capable of engaging targets in space. The comparison of the M50 Partisan with my 350R is closer, but with less mass and at least equal thrust, she will accelerate better and hit max faster.

She is not, however, what I'm used to. I won't get to sleep aboard, and using the facilities is... well, the M50 has a hose and... let's just say a guy can only take care of personal... er... necessities with no small discomfort. I grin to myself for a moment, it could be worse; I can't even begin to imagine how women survive it, and I probably don't want to find out. Sure as heck don't plan on asking any female I know about it.

All these thoughts bring me back around to one conclusion: without living space aboard, they are giving me a craft all but designed to keep me from wandering off to explore. I have to wonder if it is for my own good or theirs.

…..

I finish my walk-around and climb the stairs up to the cockpit. Beyond the craft, I can see at least a couple of the crew who seem to keep looking my way, and Ksan Ko'Kree talking with an officer.

The smallish cockpit is designed to make everything needed to control a craft moving at three to five thousand kilometers a second, plus a few small additions that look like Xi'An manufacture. I wonder what Duncan will sound like in this. It sure is a fancy bird, nothing but the best and lightest, all the things a 350R has, but with a tighter layout bent on function as well as performance form.

I hear the equivalent of a Xi'An clearing his throat behind me and turn.

There is Kree'Gna! His expression is his version of a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

I scamper down the ladder and offer a rather modest bow, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren. How have you been?"

"Chash'anori." He pauses, then adds with a bit of dramatic flair, "And you?"

"Chash'ambosari. Had some interesting experiences since we last talked."

Now he laughs, "I bet. Let's get some food and talk, Okay?"

"Lead on," I reply and realize for the first time in a long while that I'm relaxing. Turning, I see the crew going about their business, and an officer standing about where... well, no Ksan Ko'Kree. Why am I not surprised?

"Come on, Shawn Ryan. I'm hungry."

"Coming, boss."