TOG In Space

by cmopatrick

A novel about Shawn Ryan and his adventures set in the Star Citizen universe. Please note that this was begun in 2013 (only months after the Star Citizen funding campaign launched), long before most of the game mechanics had been described (much less finalized). (update:) When canon Xi'An content was finally added, the story fell completely out of canon (their choice, not mine).

9. Chapter 8 – Questions and Doubt

Nothing goes down like a good prime rib with a pint of Guiness. Well, that's how I see it, anyway.

The one I have in front of me could be from Earth raised and pasture fed beef, slow roasted over an alder fire. Sure, I miss the bottle of Rat's Blood and have instead poured some of Kree'Gna's favored xi'rrahn on the side to dip it into; thing is, this one is good enough that I'm just using the local sea salt as I stuff myself with mouthful after mouthful.

Kree'Gna is watching me, seemingly fascinated by my ravenous approach to the meal. Finally, as I finish my last bite, he asks what I've suspected, "Did they not feed you on your journey, Shawn Ryan?"

I swallow and reply, "Yup. Pretty steady diet of good meat, too."

His head tilts just slightly and I can see he wants to ask why. Rather than make it an issue, I continue, "No, I'm just glad to eat without worry that something is wrong. It has done wonders for my appetite."

"Ah. I understand." I'm not sure his expression supports his statement, but I'll let it drop.

"So, where are we off to now?" I ask.

"Terra. I need to see the Diplomat and I believe you need a few days planet-side to recover from your travels."

"Okay."

"I'm making sure we build in enough time for MARC to debrief you. Maybe while you are on-world we can further our investigation into the who and why of the attempts on your life."

I had almost forgotten about that. "Are you sure you want me flying your wing? I'm not that big of a help."

"Yes. Are you having doubts about the contract?"

"Yeah, all the time. But I have since Gloria first showed up."

"It is not what you expected, is it?"

"Nope. Not sure I would have taken it if I'd known then what I know now... but then again, it's good to be working together again, Kree'Gna."

"Yes, it is good to work with you, Shawn Ryan. When will you be ready to depart?"

"I'd like a few hours to sleep and let my meal settle. Don't want to do another round of Croshaw's."

He chuckles and nods.

…..

The M50P is an unqualified speedster. She accelerates like a bolt of lightning and twice in the last couple hours she has taken me to tunnel vision before I've realized I have that many Gs on. If it weren't that I hate the constriction of the pressure suit squeezing blood back towards my brain, I might have taken it up even further, but blackout isn't any place let myself get to with three and four thousand kilometer per second speeds. I do wonder what Kree'Gna experiences in the elegant Xress as it still easily pulls away from me... though not quite as quickly as it did when I was in other craft. I wouldn't have thought that the extra few thousand pounds would increase my inertia so much, but with much the same engine and thrust components, this ship screams away from the jump exits more swiftly than even the 350R.

…..

"Diplomatic courier Kree'Gna and escort, please hold for recognition," the UEE Navy patrol instructs.

"We copy and are complying," Kree'Gna answers and we slow to a relative stop.

"Escort M50, we show Xi'An tech aboard your craft. I show your craft tags recently updated as well, you may either submit to a scan or return to Xi'An space."

I laugh, "Scan away, Sir." Only a moment after I've spoken do I wonder if there is anything they have put on here that I could get in trouble for. Moments pass into minutes as my own sensors show I'm getting enough radiation to probably identify my DNA and measure how much dirt I have under my fingernails.

"We show the craft recently reregistered to Shawn Ryan of Terra. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you Shawn Ryan?"

"The same, Sir."

"Are you a UEE Citizen?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you also a diplomat to the Xi'An?"

"No, Sir. I'm under contract to escort Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna of the Xi'An."

"Are you aware that you are currently not registered as a foreign agent, but that your new craft has the Deputy Diplomat's markings? As such, you need to register with your local UEE office of Xeno Affairs."

"Can I take care of that once I'm back home?"

"Please stand by."

On our private connection, Kree'Gna comments, "I did not think of the possibility that they would accost you over a new ship."

"Just playing by the bureaucrats rules. It'll all work out." I think I sound confident, but as the minutes drag on again, I start to wonder.

I hear them contact Kree'Gna, "Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, this is Lieutenant Richard Smalls. May I inquire as to your current destination, Sir?"

"The embassy at Terra, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Sir."

More minutes pass, I remember that both attempts on my life have been unofficially tied to the UEEN... and I'm starting to sweat.

Finally, "Shawn Ryan, you are cleared to proceed on a temporary waver. You will need to register with one of the Terran Xeno Affairs offices within three local business days of arrival in system."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, you and your escort may proceed."

…..

Terra Prime comes without further incident. Now I'm floating with the night side lit beneath me as I match the Lagrange orbit the Xi'An embassy follows. My shields glow just a bit from a passing CME, and I can see aurora dancing through the polar atmospheres so far below. It really is a stunning sight.

My comms come to life, "Kree'Gna is contacting Shawn Ryan."

I key up, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren.

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. I am safely aboard. Please take the next four local days off. Payment for contract to date has been distributed as you have requested."

"Thanks, my friend. See you soon. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

…..

It isn't until I'm into Terra's stratosphere headed towards the Torre Nor and my own pad that it occurs to me: the last time MARC wanted to interrogate me, I had to be rescued by the Xi'An... and the latter have set aside four days for Gloria or her successor to show up and do whatever. A second thought follows on its heels: will I endanger anyone I care about by going home? A few nights in New Austin might serve me better, even with the higher than average hangar and bunk fees.

Besides, there's a Xeno office not all that far from Origin Skunkwerks Stadium. Hmmm, I don't think it's either sataball or soccer season... bet I can get a good rate on pad and bed if I'm sly about it.

Okay, course correction and throttle back to Mach 2ish. After putting us on autopilot, I connect my mobi to the ship's link and look at the facility availability. Welllllll... okay, it's preseason for sataball... um... oh, good, the next game is an away at Quasi. A search shows a full selection of hangars with accommodations at relatively reasonable rates... well, for New Austin, anyway.

There is one in an Aeroview complex near the waterfront, not too bad for four days... I allocate it and approve the credits. It's one of those fancy business units, fly-in entry and egress, third story of seven, kitchenette, great view, and a "real queen-size bed"... can you guess what I want to take advantage of first?

I bet whomever knows where I'm going, the credits are a trail that they can't miss; maybe I can keep them from harassing Camilla or Arron. Furthermore, there's a Foodway Market down the street from the pad; I order some supplies and again leave a clear credits trail. The mobi chimes with a reply and I admit to some satisfaction, the delivery should be made almost before I'm done shutting down the engines. Jix!

…..

The bed smells of hydrazine as does the bathroom. Were I to guess, the last occupant had an eject ride just before stopping here. That or whomever does maint on seat rockets. Either way, I open the bay doors for fresh air and crank the ventilation up to nine. The sounds of ships landing and departing from the not too distant Origen showroom dominate the afternoon.

I hear a near approach and look out just in time to see a sparkling new 890 Jump on approach to one of the seventh floor Revel & York penthouse bays. Sleek and classy, they don't call those things yachts for nothing. Bit rich for my tastes, but once in a while I have to admit to admiring them.

The foodstuffs took a bit longer than advertised, but I'm not a grump and give the kid a dozen credits for his time. I put the steaks into the smallish fridge, take the small hibachi and c-coals, and head for a perch near the open portal. Once the heat has started, I peel my diamond shrimp, start some rice, and cut up the scorpion peppers. Peppers go in the c-coals, making a fragrant and potentially painful smoke that immediately attempts to blow directly into my face. I spear the shrimp onto barbee sticks and set them on the peppers to cook up. A noisy Hornet launches from what must be the pad next to mine on the right. I pull the cork on a nice red and pour a small glass.

Ding!

What was that?

Oh, the rice is done. Rice goes into a bowl and the shrimp are done. Oh, my, are they done! Tender but completely cooked, with that combination of chemical heat and that deep smoked pepper taste. One bite and it reminds me of a hot spacecraft thruster with afterburners on.

I eat two dozen and drink a couple glasses before finally closing the doors.

I stand in the shower, letting rivers of hot water drain my tensions. Yeah, there will probably be less pleasant things to come, but at least for now I will enjoy my life one day at a time. One of the settings for the rinse is "rose water" and I let the fragrant stream relax me further as it floats away the remaining soap.

The towels are soft, plush enough that they somehow remind me that sleep is high on my agenda.

Now I'm dry and heading to bed. Maybe tonight they will let me sleep.

…..

I sit up suddenly in the strange dark room. Was that something? Was there anything? I click on the lights and... it's just me and the M50P in this hangar.

The local clock says 0403. This is the fourth time in six hours that I've woken with the adrenaline pumping for nothing. I don't understand, I would have thought someone would be here by now. I hope they aren't hurting Camilla and Arron. Maybe I'll swing by in the morning to check on them and let them know where I am so they can tell any questioner.

I turn the lights back off and sit for a while looking out across the hangar. There is a small row of blast-proof windows that face out over the river; one or both of the moons is shining in through them, painting the floor with a luminous silver that makes hard edged shadows. In the almost dark, my breath and my heartbeat are all I hear.

…..

Day has come and I'm undisturbed. Well, at least by real problems, my imagination is more than making up for it and my sleep has suffered markedly. I wet a towel with hot water and hold it to my face. No, it won't make the wrinkles go away, but it sure feels good.

Today I go down to the Xeno office and get registered or whatever. Seems pretty stupid to me. I mean, they tax all my contract payments, well as far as I know they haven't stopped taking my taxes out, I guess I should check on that. Anyway, you'd think they would have all that stuff automated so they know that I'm working for the Xi'An when they take the taxes from those payments. Oh, well... three things in life are guaranteed: death, taxes, and bureaucratic idiocy. (sigh)

I put on some walking boots and comfortable clothes. After a quick bite of breakfast, I grab every data chip I can find that might be asked for by whatever official peon wants to ruin my day. The M50P sits there in the quiet and I have to admit she looks sweet. I need to get another copy of Duncan for her and set up some security, but for now, I think the hangar security will have to do.

At the door out to the stairwell, I push the security protocol from "Respectable" to "Paranoid" and leave the palm print and tiny pin prick smudge of blood on the appropriate interfaces. As the door closes behind me, I wonder what I might be overlooking.

Down, down I go. I'm sure glad I didn't get the top floor. I can see the arena fairly close at hand and a quick check of my mobi indicates I'll have less that two kilometers to walk to get to Xeno Affairs.

The breeze is fresh and there are plenty of birds in the trees talking with each other about whatever birds find interesting. Bet if I could understand them, half their chatter would be about sex and the other would cover who has what. Not all that different from a lot of folks I've met over the years.

My mobi chimes with a message. Ah, Camilla checking up on me. She sure is a gem, Arron really lucked out with her.

I call the plantation office and herself answers, "Torre Nor Tea Gardens, how may I help you?"

"As if you couldn't see my face on the incoming."

She blows a long noisy raspberry at her mobi, showing a sense of humor that I appreciate. Finally, she replies, "Oh, is that you? Been so long since we saw you, I almost forgot what you look like. You're pretty old, you know that?"

"Thanks. Been gaining weight?"

"Oh, that's low."

"Yeah, I guess so. Sorry, Camilla."

"It's okay. Just don't let it happen again," she laughs.

"I was going to call you to let you know where I'm staying while I'm planetside... in case someone asks."

"Why aren't you staying here?"

"Trying to look out for my friends."

"You in trouble again?"

"I never know anymore."

"It's that woman that smushed my roses and begonias, I bet."

"I actually don't know who anymore, but I'm not giving them a reason to go after any of you. I'm sending you the details right now."

"Okay..." I can almost see her reading as the address must be scrolling across her glas. "New Austin? You're twenty minutes away. I'll have dinner on tonight and it'll be spicey..." There is a grin in her voice, she knows how much I like her hot cooking.

"I'll think about it."

"Be here at seven, don't make me tell you again." She laughs again and adds, "Okay?"

"Okay."

…..

Bureaucracy. The bloated underside of our government. Forty billion rules each designed to address that one time four hundred years ago that one person got over on the government at the expense of the billionsof us who have been buried by the result ever since. The royal pain that insists it is needed, and makes every minute dealing with it into something akin to wrestling nude with a hungry Vandie. Yes, this is my government, the UEE.

If it weren't that there are at least a dozen others moving about through the same series of clerks and kiosks, I would have thought it was just some stalling tactic while MARC or whomever lined up the hit man. As it is, I now know several fellow travelers by name, and most of their stories.

There is Joseph, two in front of me at most of the lines. He was flying long haul for what is now a Xi'An owned parts supplier to the MISC Freelancer assembly lines. Seems his cross border license was for him to be flying for a human enterprise. Would have been nice if someone had told him that the merger his old company went through would put him in the path of 30,000 UEC in fines. Seems the powers that be here in Xeno determined that he should be fined for each run from the point the company was under Xi'An ownership. I just had to roll my eyes at that one.

Across from me in the current waiting room is Flora. A willowy two meter giant, she tried to bring Xi'An body armor across the system under contract to the Navy, no less. No one told her that a one time run needs all the fancy paperwork. And like me, she thought the taxes that come out of our pay was all we were expected to contribute. Wrong.

Which reminds me, I owe 14,000 in credits myself for supplemental taxes and fines. Fourteen THOUSAND! I feel like I'm paying for the Synth World all by myself. It's a wonder we have any dealings with the Xi'An at all, considering how difficult our own people make it. Oh, and did I mention that I've been here for the better part of seven hours? Seven HOURS! Judging by the efficiency I've seen so far, I bet I'll be expected to be back again tomorrow. Maybe Kree'Gna giving me four days won't be enough... I'll need a vacation just to recover from paperwork burnout.

…..

Camilla's idea for dinner is exactly what I need after the zoo at the Xeno Affairs offices today. I've been here all of twenty minutes and already the cares of the day are washing off with the dirt and soap in a steamy hot shower. There are clove bud sprigs hung near enough the shower head that the hot moist air takes on a festive spice scent. All in all, the best reasons to breathe seem part of my experience. Yes, I do still have to go back tomorrow, but at least this moment right now is about refreshing.

I think I need to banish the mirror from my bathroom. It seems to think the guy drying off with a thick warm towel is old and worn but that can't be me... can it? (sigh). I guess if it isn't, then whomever that is is doing a good imitation of my movements and expressions.

No, that's me. The bravado seems to fade as I look myself over. Mostly, I see my face... my eyes harrowed and haunted as they stare back at me from under the hand towel I have draped over my head. I really never wanted all of this to happen. Whatever became of my simple life? Okay, it was financially complicated, but that was nothing compared to this mess.

Finally dry and too disgusted with the mirror to endure it any longer, I return to my room and don a real linen shirt, cotton denim pants, and a pair of Roman sandals. No, they don't actually come from Rome... well, I don't think they do anyway... well... whatever. So dressed, I head downstairs towards the food smells and laughter.

…..

"Here, take these plates to the table," Camilla orders while pushing a stack of everyday plates into my hands.

"Five place settings?"

"Yup. You, Arron, Me, Gloria, and Brother Patrick."

I almost drop the plates on the floor. "Gloria?"

"Yup. I invited her."

"Gloria?"

"Tall, bald, mischievous?"

"Mischievous?"

"The one who you said was visiting you without you having much say. The one who killed a bunch of my flowers landing like a dolt in the garden. That Gloria."

"You have got to be kidding me. She nearly got me killed."

Camilla looks at me like I must be daft but says nothing.

"Gloria handed me over to a bunch of torturers who were intent on beating whatever out of me."

"What?"

"I don't know, I had barely come to when the Xi'An showed up and rescued me... though they sounded like they were going to kill me, too. At least at first."

"You aren't making any sense, you know that."

"Trust me, I'm making perfect sense."

"Well, we'll see if she is so tough tonight. You know, she did hear me complain about her killing the plants landing in the garden and came by about a week ago during the day with a Dolmain hybrid tea rose, you should smell that one, it is to die for, and a cred chip for replacing the others. She apologized most earnestly..."

On the stove, something is threatening to boil over, interrupting her story. She waves a hand and says, "Get those plates onto the table, we can talk over dinner.

…..

This has got to be one of the strangest meals I've ever chosen to sit down for. I'm at one end of the table and directly opposite me is Brother Patrick. Between us on one side is Arron while Camilla and Gloria inhabit the other. Camilla seems to have orchestrated this seating very carefully, she sits between Gloria and myself.

On second evaluation, I've realized that Brother Patrick isn't some wimpy wall flower. If anything, I bet with the right outfit, he would look more like a retired Marine than anything else. His robe, or whatever that is, seems to fit him in the least flattering ways... but his ease on his feet and apparent strength shine through anyway.

I don't seem to be the only one to notice. Gloria looks at him after swallowing a bite and asks, "Were you always a monk type?"

"Oh heavens, no. Before I came to believe, I was a career Naval Corpsman. I was the guy to patch them up so they could get back to the fight... or at least live to fight another day."

"So why..." her voice trails off and I see that he is aware that all of us are listening intently.

"Why what? Why am I here tonight? Why am I who I am?"

"Yeah... any of them."

"I'm here tonight as a peacemaker."

Gloria is curious and it shows, "Peacemaker? For what, may I ask?"

"It was considered wise to have a kinder, gentler tone available while you and my friend Shawn are here together. I'm the lighthearted person to keep the tone agreeable and the friend of the house if peacemaking demands a more rigorous," here he leans back and with a big grin stretches his shoulders back for just long enough, "means of keeping you both in your corners."

"You're the bouncer?" she asks acerbically.

He looks up at the ceiling, sighs, and looks back down at her, "Yup. Heaven forgive me, but you're spot on, young lady." He spears a piece of meat from his plate and takes the bite while she continues to stare his way.

Looking over at Camilla, he offers, "Camilla, this mole is exquisite. It compliments the meat exceptionally."

"Why thanks, Brother Patrick," Camilla beams.

Gloria doesn't seem amused at all this dinner chit chat and looks my way, "You and I need to talk."

"This seems like a good enough place to me," I answer, then take a bite of VERY hot spiced beef.

"In front of these people? I think..." she stops as she sees me nodding and smiling as if nothing in the worlds could be so natural.

I decide to make life a bit easier for her, "Why don't I just tell everyone where I've been and what I've been doing?"

"That is not advisable."

"I could tell them who you are."

"That is even less advisable."

"You pick."

"Neither."

"Okay, both then..."

"No! Tell your story if you must, but consider the health of all involved before you make further declarations."

"Camilla, dear," Brother Patrick states across Gloria, causing her to lose some of her concentration, "I believe this nice lady may have inadvertently... or perhaps deliberately... have threatened you and your husband. How do you feel about that?"

Camilla pivots to face Gloria and the latter stands suddenly, "Stop this!" she yells.

"Sit, my child," is Brother Patrick's rather condescending response from behind her.

She wheels and swings a backhanded slap his way, but it never reaches her target. At a full arm's length, Brother Patrick has a hand rather nonchalantly grasping her wrist... well, it all looks casual until one notes the struggle Gloria is making to free herself.

"Gloria," Brother Patrick says while standing in a relaxed manner of a confident alpha male, "If you wish to strike me on a cheek, I would rather you start out facing me." He lets go of her wrist and continues, "Now, please feel free to continue."

Crack! That blow would have felled a tree and I certainly could not have taken it and kept grinning... but that is precisely what Brother Patrick has done.

Smiling, he asks, "Would you like the other cheek now?"

I would swear that she isn't slapping as she strikes again, but while he does nothing to parry, he shows no effort to again withstand her blow.

"Are you quite done, Gloria?" He asks in a calm voice. "I don't rile easy these days, but I'm sure that if you really want me to have a lot to say at confession, you could eventually succeed."

I can't see her face to know what her expression must be like, but whatever it is seems to have no effect on the affable monk. "Tell us all about it, Shawn," he finally says as he sits back down... and leaves Gloria impotently standing.

She glares my way as I begin.

…..

I've gotten through describing the harrowing chase through the snowball field and have how I sent the message to Gloria, when she interrupts, "I didn't get that message for days and when I did you had already disappeared. On top of that, your ship had been moved to the Xi'An embassy before we could get anyone to examine it."

"That's a lie, you were waiting in that room on the Covalex platform in response to it."

She looks genuinely angry, "I was in no such room."

"You were, too. Layin' on the couch grinning while someone stuck a needle into my neck."

"Shawn Ryan, I was no such place." Her expression changes suddenly, "Did you see anyone else?"

"Nope, but they were there, especially that guy that kept hitting me."

"Why did you think it was me?"

"Because it was," I say, but even as I do, I seem to remember that something seemed wrong about how she looked.

"What did I say?"

I start trying to think back to just before the pain began...

Everyone is staring at me and I realize that I was never sure... it was Ksan Ko'Kree who made it sound like it was obvious.

"I got a mobi to go to one of the sleeping quarters... C16 or 17, not quite sure right now. Door opens and there you were lounging on the couch... but you didn't say anything, you just smiled at me... come to think of it, just before the needle, I seem to remember that your smile seemed odd somehow."

"A double or a holo. Please try to tell us everything you remember, no detail is too small."

"Well, it seemed like a usual off-craft sleeping room, though I rarely use them myself." I close my eyes and try to put myself back there. "You were laying on a couch directly across the room from the door, and I didn't notice much else, it all happened so quick. I'm sure that someone was sitting there, the cushions wouldn't fit to the shape if it was a holo."

"Unless the couch was a holo, too. Go on."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that's right. Anyway, the prick in the neck and then it all started spinning. I do seem to remember a sense of movement to my left side just before the needle, but maybe more of a hint of sound than anything I saw. Then it became a jumble of pains and sounds, I seem to remember that I'd been kicked and punched, but I'm not really sure. One thing I remember was that I couldn't open my eyes."

"You're sure it wasn't a blindfold?" Gloria interrupts to ask.

"Certain. It all went on for a while, then I remember sitting in a chair in silence, hurting all over. Then someone with a very authoritarian voice started asking questions. Oh, and he hit me REALLY hard to let me know what would happen if I didn't answer him."

"Could you see yet?"

"No."

"But you didn't have trouble answering him."

"It was really hard to talk, he didn't seem to want me to talk either... just nod my head yes and no..."

"Probably norphenathain."

As she says this, I see Brother Patrick nod in agreement.

She continues, "What did he ask you?"

"Well, he didn't get very far, the Xi'An seem to have stormed in and rescued me."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah... they got me out of there and... well... spirited me away to Rihlah."

"Did you hear any fighting?"

Come to think of it... "No, I don't remember any."

"Sounds of the door opening?"

"It's all kinda hazy... but no, I don't seem to recall any."

"Weapons discharge?"

"Well... no... but couldn't they have used darts or something?"

"Yes, if they were already there."

Her logic is painfully solid. I didn't hear any sign of interruption before the interrogation abruptly ended. Things aren't always what they seem, are they?

Brother Patrick breaks the train of thought, "What happened after that?"

Gloria seems very interested and leans forward, "Yes, please tell us what happened next."

…..

There have been no interruptions, they are all intently following my adventure in Xi'An space. But the mention of the UEEN patrol and me having to register with Xeno Affairs finally brings a reaction from Gloria... disappointment.

"OES will have you now," she says with marked disgust. "It's bad enough that I've been compromised, but now we'll lose you just when things were getting interesting."

"What do you mean?"

"The Xi'An showed you parts of their territory that I don't think we know about and let you see a side of their military that we have only hints of. It was a show, meant for us. Actually, they tried first to get you on board, to actively owe allegiance to them. You resisted, but I doubt they have given up. Your new bird is part of them trying to further the offer. But they also know you've been attacked and probably figured they would make you valuable enough that if we could stop the strikes we would. Only MARC doesn't operate that way, even if you were one of us."

"Meaning?"

"You are registering as a foreign agent. OES is running background on you, probably even as we speak. They will assign someone to you; I doubt that they would take anyone with so little trade-craft as an actual operative. Actually, that is a good thing if you've read Dnong correctly. Were OES to actually recruit you, I doubt that one would let you live through your next encounter."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Get reassigned. Whoever actually executed your abduction knows enough about me that my Librarian will probably have me moved. Whether he will want to continue direct contact is up to him... or maybe the Committee itself. OES doesn't know our true capacity, and we will most likely not want to risk parallel contact when we can simply skim their data off after they have it."

"No more chances like Dora, huh?"

Gloria laughs, "Probably not."

Camilla looks my way as does Brother Patrick and suddenly I'm a little self-conscious. "Oh, never mind."

Gloria nods just a little and I see a bit of smile. "Of course, far be it for me to try to hinder romance."

Now Camilla speaks, "Romance? What have you been up to, Shawn?"

I suspect I'm blushing a little, "Nothing happened, just a distant interest."

"You behave yourself, old man," she scolds.

I sigh. "Yes, mom," is out of my mouth a moment before I realize that I didn't say "Ma'am" the way I meant to.

They are all laughing, even Arron.

Chuckling, Brother Patrick chimes in, "Camilla, you hold you age so well, I would have imagined you were much younger than that."

"I'm an ageless woman, Brother Patrick." She turns sideways to him and strikes a dramatic pose, "Couldn't you tell?"

Everyone laughs... even me.

"Question," Brother Patrick states in a suddenly serious tone.

"Yes?"

He looks back and forth between myself and Gloria. "Do we know yet whom Shawn's attackers have been?"

"Data is inconclusive," Gloria begins.

"How so?"

"Tags are all tied to our Navy, but not only were they stolen, the Navy grid has been quiet. It isn't them unless someone's getting odd jobs on the side. Not unheard of, but unlikely with such high profile."

Brother Patrick looks at her and suggests, "Someone in the government who is calling in favors from the star boys?"

"That much pull would require a Senator or..." Gloria falls silent and seems to be thinking awfully hard. She casually leans over towards Brother Patrick and whispers something.

"Haa Haaa Haaa haaa haa!" the monk erupts.

Gloria sits back, looking both mad and offended as the brown robed man continues to guffaw almost uncontrollably.

Camilla asks, "And just exactly what is that all about?"

Chuckling, he responds, "She asked me if I was interested in finding out about a job with MARC!"

Camilla starts laughing, too.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Brother Patrick composes himself enough to say, "My dear Gloria, I wouldn't survive a day in a place like that."

"You have a good mind and recognize patterns."

"Oh, I know that. It's my insistence on telling the truth and my complete lack of BS tolerance that would get me in trouble." He states. With a huge but genuine smile he asks, "You have to lie every day, don't you?"

"Excuse me?!" Gloria snaps back.

"My point exactly."