The elevator door opens onto a long Revel & York hangar with only a few craft in it. Near the far end is one of those space yachts, an 890 Jump. They are rather impressive craft, even at this distance. Must be some serious big-shot in for one of them to be cramped into a government building, bet they're going to be meeting with the Imperator.

Ms. Amesly strides past a common shuttle and a 300 series.

We keep walking.

Must be the Avenger... no, she is still walking.

"Nice stroll, Ma'am. Do I get a ride in the 890?" I ask with a touch of silliness, figuring that the shuttle we are to use must be in that last slot, completely hidden by the gleaming bulk.

She glances my way, but says nothing as she leads us across the blast tiles and past service holograms.

"That is some ship," I offer, trying to make even a semblance of conversation. "Any chance I could take a peek inside?"

I can't read her expression as she turns and looks directly at me. I realize quickly that an eye-glas has lit by her left eye and she seems to read something on that fancy little thing.

She smiles and says, "Citizen Ryan, you are the most curious person I know, my eight year old included. But yes, you may see the inside, as long as you promise not to tell anyone what you see."

What could it hurt to go along? "Sure, I promise."

Nodding, she replies, "Okay, come along."

There is an elevated ramp that takes us to the door, no climbing for the rich folks. As I approach, even its exterior skin is richly appointed, and there's not even a scorch mark on her.

I duck just a little out of habit as I pass the doorway.

"This way, Citizen Ryan," Ms. Amesly directs and proceeds through a short hall and into an opulent room worthy of a fine hotel. It is only after I've taken the few steps through the hall that I realize there are now two persons behind me. A quick glance shows a fearsome pair of Marines, an escort to just where, exactly?

Janice turns into a side room and...

"Hello again, Ryan," Imperator Costigan greets me.

"Um..."

"Speechless, I like that. I don't have time to say a whole lot, so keep it like that for a minute, okay?"

"Uh, yes... sir."

"Good. This report came from someone. I happen to have gotten one once before that was from that same someone. I know for a fact that what they told me then was accurate. Is this thing the truth as far as you know it?"

"I haven't read much of it, but from what everyone was saying, then yes, sir. It seems like MARC, or whoever they really are, gave you their file on me."

"I thought as much. If I ask, can I trust you to relay a message without guile or politics?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I want as many open lines of communication as I can get to help me solve this mess. I believe that you can be an honest broker, an additional piece. Will you do that if I ask it?"

"What about all that stuff you said just..."

He interrupts, "The things I said were to serve a couple of purposes. First, it showed me what those people really thought as they argued between themselves. Second, it gave me an excuse to stop all of them from acting along their own lines. You were probably only hours from having the Navy, the OES, or the Advocacy snatch you. Finally, none of them will believe you are someone I will turn to... and if they are being watched or are compromised by whomever is trying to start this war, then they won't try to take you out the way they already have one of my other back channels. You are a wild card, and I like having those to play when I can't see my opponent's cards in advance. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"The question still stands: If I need to ask you to, can I trust you to relay a message without letting your politics or personal opinion get in the way?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I need better than that. Your Empire needs better than that."

"Trying to go for my patriotism?"

He smiles and nods, "Yes, Citizen Shawn Ryan, I am."

His honesty shows through and suddenly I'm feeling rather gung-ho and rah-rah about the whole deal: The Imperator is asking me personally to serve the Empire in a dark and troubled time.

"Then I have to say, I'd be glad to assist in any way I can, sir."

He smiles, "Good. By the way, you aren't as old as my dad."

I chuckle, "Thanks for telling me."

Janice Amesly touches my arm and says, "It's time to go."

Confused, I ask Imperator Costigan, "Um, don't you have any orders or anything?" As he takes on an odd look, I hastily add, "Sir?"

He nods and answers, "Janice Amesly is your contact from now on. I seriously doubt we will be in direct communication again. If we are, it is only a dire emergency."

"Oh. But I thought..."

He interrupts, "I have set you up to be a secret liaison to the Xi'An, a back channel. Everything I do is watched and noted by many different parties, some of whom are smart enough to put two and two together. If we talk directly, it will compromise you... making you worthless to me. In fact, if you don't leave in the next minute of so, it may compromise you. Got that?"

I nod, it does sorta make sense. "Yes, sir."

"Then get out of here, TOG; you old grump," he says with what is clearly a grin.

"Yes, sir," I answer, not taking offense.

"This way," Ms. Amesly directs and we leave the craft as its engines fill the hangar with the din of heavy thrusters preparing for takeoff.

The shuttle that had been parked at the other end of the hangar is almost up against the ramp as we descend. its engines have it in a gentle hover and I note that the other two craft we had passed are also aloft. Seems odd to have them all inside with the hangar doors closed.

No sooner has the shuttle door closed than we are heading not outside, but back down the gallery to where the shuttle had been parked before. The Avenger and the 300 series both move into the smaller pads as we pass. Just before we reach the end landing zone, I hear the roar of the big Origin as it launches. Oddly, we settle onto our pad, parked much as the ship had been when we originally walked past. I glance out the window and see that the Avenger is launching, but that the 300 has parked next to us where it also originally was. The hangar door opens in front of us, revealing Prime in all its tumultuous grandeur. The Imperator is long gone and I wonder if the whole shifting thing wasn't just some kind of shell game to keep watching eyes from doing the kind of math the Imperator said would put me at risk.

…..

As the pilot steers the shuttle to my M50, Ms. Amesly hands me a small chip. "This will interface with your glas. Your instructions are encoded on it, but you must have a pilot's helmet headset connected for it to work. Do you understand?"

"I guess, but it seems odd."

"No, it is actually very sensible. Modern flight and combat helmets establish secure connections by default. The helmet connection is also one of the hardest to bug. This chip has an app that will further increase that security. The only thing you will need to be cautious about is not to repeat out loud what you see and hear. Do you understand?"

I nod, "Sure."

"You need to put it in your glas now, before we land."

"Oh, yeah, okay."

I try to do as instructed and realize that my glas is full; out of the three slots that take chips, one is occupied by my home backup, one has my musical favorites from the last millennia, and the last is my reading library. I guess the library can get put aside.

"Just a minute," I say, "Need to take one out."

She smiles knowingly, "I understand. I have a Tonkor 390XL with five slots and even though I'm almost always planet-side with the grid available I never have the space I need for these things."

"I don't think I've had to change chips since I started carrying the library... maybe eight... no, I guess it was only seven... standards ago."

"Really? You might consider an upgrade."

"Last I knew, those four chip models were pretty spendy."

"Not really. I can get you a good deal with a government discount."

An odd thought occurs to me, "Wouldn't that show that I'm working for you guys now?"

Her brows arch momentarily and she smiles, "Yes, Mr. Ryan, I guess that would."

I finish plucking the library chip out and add the new one. "May I at least have the case the old one came in? Don't want to mess this one up before I can put it somewhere."

She smiles and hands it to me, "That makes sense."

…..

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

I've just settled into the M50 and am glad for the familiar challenge from the even more familiar voice.

"Well, who died and made you boss?"

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

I smile and reply, "Bite m e, Duncan."

"Welcome back, Shawn."

"Good to be back, Duncan."

…..

It is already late afternoon when I leave Prime headed home to Torre Nor. I have been given a northerly flight path and am rapidly gaining altitude. Before me, towering thunderheads glow in the sunset. I climb further, well above the darkening clouds with their occasional electrical shows. I'm at twenty-five kilometers before I finally level off, just in time to lose the star-shine at the nighttime terminus. Below me, a huge bolt lights even the thin air around me as gigawatts arc over the anvil like a rainbow of pure energy.

…..

Now the high topped storms have given way to the vast darkness dotted with the lights of towns and hamlets. Above me, the deep blue has only wisps of atmosphere to diminish the stars... I'm not into space, but closer than I've been in what seems like forever. I can't stay up here very long if I want a gentle approach, but the plantation can wait just a little longer. I feel so at home up here, much more than even I'd ever sensed in the Big House.

Maybe I'm safer in the cockpit than I was before Captain Priest took out that 350 pilot, but I have to wonder... is all that trouble over now? Somehow, I doubt it.

…..

With the light amp on, I can see the plantation hangar long before I would otherwise. I have to admit that I'm smiling to myself as I recognize a Freelancer parked on one side of the pad in front. Maybe Jurdi is interested and wants to settle here. It might be nice to have a some one on one time to get to know her and see if anything happens.

I brake gently on approach and settle onto the reinforced concrete with minimal wash.

"Duncan, standard shutdown and security, please."

"Ya sure, you betcha," he grumbles with all the enthusiasm of a puppy when the ball is getting put away. I've got to hand it to Duncan's programmers, the response is perfect for the situation.

The engines and thrusters glow faintly with residual heat as the powerplant and its cooling system wind down. The cockpit glas connections autostow and only then remember that I need to connect my helmet to my mobi for the Imperator's message.

A chime in my ears tells me that the link is made and a woman's voice instructs me to wait while a security app loads.

"Ryan, I'm not going to waste either of our time right now," the serious visage of Imperator Costigan starts. "You are to meet with Athas Mgren as soon as you are cleared to fly zero g. When you do, tell her I will be making a speech on the problems with movement of farm labor between Mars and Earth. During that speech I will make the following statement. Quote: 'Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate; it isn't about a back channel, it is more a matter of building trust.' Repeat this to her word for word. I will know the date that you arrive at the Xi'An Embassy and will make the speech three standard days after. This is how you will be validated to them that I have indeed spoken with you and wish them to know you are trusted on my part. You must use exactly those words. The text of the speech I release before hand will not have them, only you and the Xi'An will know that they are coming."

A long color sequence appears and he continues, "To secure communications between yourself and any of our offices, use this sequence with OpSec set to 'highly paranoid'. The chip you were given with this communication on it is to be used for encrypting even if you need to use ship comms. Your code word is 'Indigent' unless you are told otherwise by Amesly or myself, and then only in person; use that word within the first fifteen seconds or the communication will be presumed to be compromised. Likewise, we will contact you with all the same protocols unless we meet in person."

His face grows more serious still, "Look, Ryan, you will be part of a team. You aren't the only one I'm trusting, but I also don't know if any of you are compromised... except maybe you... you're the fresh eyes on this project. If you see or hear anything you think could be important, let us know with the sequence we have assigned you. This is a dangerous job, but I believe you can live up to it. I also suspect the dangers you've faced lately are not over. All I can say is 'watch your back'."

The face disappears and I wonder what I've gotten myself into. Wryly, I note how many times in the last few months I've had the identical thought about things far less serious than this.

I lift my helmet and the connection with the mobi is lost. I release my restraints and touch the depress icon. As the hiss of the canopy sliding clear fades, I can see light in the back corner and I hear... well... it sounds like singing.

Down the ladder I go and only when I'm in the light from in back does the singing stop. I can see several people, and as I get closer, what almost look like children.

"Shawn! Welcome back!" Jurdi has risen to her feet and now I can see quite clearly that in addition to the woman there are indeed two small children, as well as a boy, maybe he's a teenager, but I'm not sure, and a robed figure.

My stride falters a bit but I continue into the light. The robed man turns and is soon obviously Brother Colum. The teen seems to be adopting something that might be a defensive stance, but the two little ones are now clinging to Jurdi as if shy or frightened. Am I all that imposing?

"Welcome back, Shawn," Brother Colum offers along with his hand; after a friendly fist-bump, he steps back to allow me to interact with the rest of my guests.

"Shawn," Jurdi begins, "These are my children: Rashid..." she pats the little boy on the head, "Jamila..." she indicates the little girl who is now rather hidden behind Jurdi's legs, "and the strong one is Bashir, my eldest."

I bow to the lot of them and say, "Good evening to all of you." I then hold out my hand to Bashir, who hesitates but finally steps forward for a fist bump. I try to smile as I recognize my dreams of spending quality time alone with Jurdi have just vanished like smoke in a hurricane.

…..

"Shawn," Brother Colum starts, "I need to get back to the Priory. I wanted to know if you need assistance with the management here while you rebuild the house?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I need to sort out the partnership Arron and Camilla had in the house."

"I understand. I do know of someone if you need them for a short term... say perhaps no more than a few weeks."

"Sure, send them over in the morning... or do you need me to go to them?"

"Let me see what we can work out and I'll have someone get back to you in the morning."

"Fair enough."

He casually bumps my fist, then addresses Jurdi and her small family, "It was a pleasure to meet each of you and spend some time together. May your stay here be restful and blessed."

"The same to you, Colum," Jurdi replies with a broad smile. Her children, I note, are to varying degrees not really as interested in the departing monk as they seem to be in me.

"Well," I'm rather unsure of what to say now, but I try anyway, "I'm glad you could stop by... um... what do you think of the place?"

"Needs a house," Bashir opines crossly before Jurdi can speak.

"Bashir!" Jurdi is incensed and Bashir responds as if he has been slapped. "Just saying, Mama."

"Show some courtesy!" Jurdi orders.

Bashir eyes me from under dark brows with something akin to loathing as he manages to say, "Sorry. Lots of plants."

Jurdi decides to address me, "I love how green and growing it is. Maybe not having a house right now is good, if we buy in..."

"Mama?!" Bashir is alarmed or I'm a fish.

Jurdi glances daggers his way and he bites his tongue while she continues, "As I was saying, if we buy in I can have the house built with our interests included."

Bashir addresses me suddenly, "Where do the tacks hold on?"

I have no clue, "Um, no offense, young sir, but I have no idea what you mean."

He frowns and rolls his eyes, "'Tacks'. People my age who are into Rarish dancing? 'Hold on'. Dance... well, actually it's just about Rarish dancing."

"Bashir is into Rarish dancing," Jurdi informs me before looking his direction and adding, "Though a mother might sometimes think a son who is gone dancing so much is not being responsible."

"Mama!"

"You know my thoughts."

"But not..." he says no more but I do detect him gesturing with his head in my direction.

I decide maybe it is best to change the direction this is heading and try, "I would offer you a nice meal, but I seem to be all out of anything worth the effort."

Bashir shrugs as if the last thing in the world he would want from me was food. The little ones don't seem to understand what I'm even talking about. Jurdi, however, smiles and replies, "Well, I'm not exactly prepared right now either, but I do have a bag of fresh fatayer... anybody want some?" The children brighten markedly and Jurdi looks to Bashir, "I have a bag that I made up this morning, would you do the honors and get it for me?"

"In the cooler?"

"Yes, thank you."

Smiling, the lanky teen turns positive and answers over his shoulder, "Got it," as he strides quickly away towards the 'Lancer's open accessway.

I admit my limited knowledge, asking, "What is it?"

"Bread, cheese, and a whole lot of secrets. Granted, I don't do it justice like Teita did, but it is still pretty good."

"I hope I get to try it some time."

"Well, if you don't leave, we have plenty to share."

"I can make tea if you folks like it. I have some jasmine oolong in the bins over there, last year's second flush but still pretty good."

"I would love some."

There is a small tasting station where plantation hands and my late managers used to make tea for themselves and any visitors interested in tasting the wares. I turn to this and after cleaning up some of the remaining debris from the explosion, I start a large pot. It gives me a minute away from the four of them to just try to get my bearings. This evening has not exactly gone well, no matter that it has definitely not gone as I expected.

Bashir returns with a bag and a small cooler just as the pot starts to whistle.

"Honey, sugar, 2sweet, or anything else?" I ask loudly enough that they obviously all hear.

"Cream! I like cream!" Jamila calls out, momentarily overcoming her shyness. "And honey!" she adds with a wide grin.

"Me, too!" Rashid calls out, not wanting to be outdone by his sister. "Cream and honey!"

"Bashir, would you like something, sir?"

"I've got milk," he states, again showing disinterest.

"But you hate milk," Rashid announces loudly.

"Hushhh."

"NO! Bashir HATES MILK!" Rashid all but screams in bold defiance and I see a flash of raw anger on the teen's face.

Jurdi must have also seen that and has moved between them, "Stop it, both of you! You dishonor me and your family! Stop now!"

Again, Bashir appears struck and Rashid sits back with his face screwed up into a titanic pout. The teen turns suddenly and heads for their ship.

"Tell you folks what," I offer, "Why don't I bring all the supplies I have and let you help yourselves to whatever?"

"That will be fine, Shawn," Jurdi replies.

I try to apologize, "Sorry about..."

"Don't be sorry. Bashir loves the city. He will probably wish to remain there if I move the rest of us to the country. He is almost a man, but is struggling to find out what it means to be one."

"Must be tough," I agree, hardly remembering myself at that age.

"He just needs some time to consider his behavior," she states while handing me what looks like a pastry.

"Mmmm," I reply with an entrancing bite filling my mouth.

Jurdi smiles.

My mobi chooses this moment to chime.

No face appears in the holo, but Duncan's voice is unmistakable, "Kree'Gna is calling ya, Shawn, on the secure ship comm."

I swallow my bite of... er... whatever this cheesy pastry is called, and answer, "Got it, mark a response code of 'coming to reply' please."

I note that little children seem entranced by my conversation and Duncan's rather irreverent tone of voice.

"Yeah, right. Marked. You gonna fly any time soon?"

"Tell the Doc I'm okay and I'll get right on it."

"Well, at least you have the sense to give me enough credit."

I close the link rather than get too involved with the many layers of banter programmed into Duncan.

"Excuse me," I say to Jurdi and her kids, "I need to take this one."

"We understand," Jurdi replies.

…..

"Ryan to Kree'Gna," I say from my seat in the wounded 350.

He must have his hand on the connection button, there is hardly any wait considering signal travel time; "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."

"Are you ready to fly, my friend?"

"I need to get cleared by the doctor; it was scheduled for day after tomorrow, but I can probably get in tomorrow."

"I need to leave again within the next few hours."

"Well, it is probably too late for me tonight, most of the tests are only done during local day."

"Ah. I will make other arrangements," he sounds disappointed.

"Sorry, my friend. I understand if you must replace me."

"The one who flies with me in the interim is not very good on the throttle, I think he passed out on the last run while accelerating. It was very good we were not being tailed, he would never have regained consciousness before missiles would have gotten him."

"Sorry, but I have to be cleared or I won't have the confidence I need to take your wing."

"Fairly spoken. Please check in with the Embassy when you are able to fly, they may have you fly with someone else until I get back."

"Oh."

"Speak with Diplomat Mgren, she will know what is needed."

"As you wish, my friend."

"I hope to see you flying beside me again soon, Shawn Ryan."

"And I wish to be there soon also. I haven't spent this much time planetside in ages and I'm not at all sure I like it."

There is a smile in his voice, "I understand, Shawn Ryan."

"I knew you would, Kree'Gna. Anything else, my friend?"

"No, that is all. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

"So," I begin after inhaling my third pastry thingy, "These things are pretty good."

"Fatayer. Just in case you didn't remember," she says with an unexpectedly sly smile as if she knows I can't. "It is a fatayer, r, fatayer."

Part of me is annoyed at her deciding to spell it out like I'm a child, but another part of me is grateful and I repeat it for her, "Fatayer?"

Jamila giggles as Jurdi replies, "Yes, you've got it. I make them with lamb some times, but the kids like the cheese ones better, so..." she shrugs and lets me reach the obvious conclusion.

…..

I notice that both younger children have nodded off; Jamila with her her arms around her mother and her head slumping against Jurdi's side, Rashid with his head in her lap.

"Well," I start quietly, "Are the lot of you planning to spend the night?"

Jurdi shakes her head as she looks towards the 'Lancer and answers in something barely above a whisper, "No, I think I'll fly us back to town. The kids have school tomorrow and I need to decide how to deal with some of our... dissension." She looks back at me as she continues, "I love the place, will love it more presuming I can have a say in how you rebuild. I'm not sure all of us are quite there yet... maybe there will be a holdout... we shall see. I do want in if you can straighten out the issues you have, I just may have to be a two residence woman for at least a while."

"Sure, works for me."

"I suspected you would understand."

I nod and hope I'm not being foolish.

Jurdi gently lifts the two small ones and makes her way to her Freelancer, shrugging off offers to help. "If it's okay with you, I'll just leave some of my stuff here so I don't have to cart it back and forth."

"Sure, no problem on my part, as long as it isn't likely to get blown away in a strong wind or be worth enough to tempt someone into liberating it.

"No problems," she answers with a grin. Darkness blankets them and I turn to the 350 to settle myself for the night.

"Hello, Shawn," a seductive voice says as I climb the stair. I would know that voice anywhere: Xin Po.

"Well, fancy finding you here. You must have just snuck in."

"You two seemed to be having a nice conversation, why complicate it?"

I stifle my impulse to be a wiseacre and simply say, "Indeed."

"Not even going to ask what I'm here for, are you?" she asks calmly.

I allow, "Well, I suspect it isn't for my sexual prowess."

She laughs darkly, "Hardly. I want to know what you said today."

"Why don't you ask your da?"

He isn't speaking with me and I've had my file access restricted."

"What?!"

"What did you say about me?"

"I didn't say anything about you. Priest and your shrink Lee were the only ones who mentioned you."

"Priest?"

"Captain. Navy Intel of some sort."

"Hmmm, what did they say?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

"I'm asking you."

"And I've been told not to say anything about the meeting."

Xin draws a small ballistic sidearm with an obscene bore and repeats herself, "What did they say?"

"That cannon will break your wrist when you kill me."

"I won't kill you, but it will definitely destroy your manhood," she replies while the aim sinks to my loins.

I consider the ice in her veins and decide that perhaps I can risk sharing some of the rather irrelevant parts of today's meeting, "Lee thinks I seduced you so convincingly that you've flipped to whatever side I'm really on. She has an active imagination."

The weapon lowers, then sinks to her side. "Puchast!" she swears with a look worthy of a jilted lover.

"What's the big deal? No one believes her."

"My father does," she says with marked disgust. "He trusts her a lot more than he does me."

"Then he isn't as smart as I gave him credit for."

She glares my way and shakes her head. "Why would she think you had flipped me?"

"Captain Priest sarcastically suggested that for me to have..." it occurs to me that Xin doesn't know about the MARC report and I need to choose my words carefully, "well..."

As I remain silent, Xin seems to know that I've reached some kind of limit. "They suspect you of having gotten hold of my report for your file?"

"Worse, of having given it to someone else."

"Oh..." She nods and asks, "It was MARC, wasn't it?"

"Your da doesn't..."

Interrupting, she sneers, "He doesn't believe they exist. After my first find that one time, everything has looked legitimate... but they really are what you described, aren't they?"

"I don't lie. And with respect to MARC, I didn't even leave things out."

"Vas had only filed one brief before she died, she mentioned a woman named 'Lanai'; is she actually MARC?"

"Well, she was. Gloria came for her that night. Not sure if she got in trouble or not."

Xin seems to come to some decision, her expression changes drastically. "I would like to talk with them."

"Who?"

"MARC."

"I don't know how to get in touch with them."

"They monitor you, correct?"

"Yeah, that seems to still be true."

"Okay, I want them to know that I might have something of value to them."

"They are probably listening right now."

For a moment, I'm not sure that she heard me, then she starts, "Gloria or whomever from MARC is listening, I am Xin Po, Associate of the Office of Executive Services. If you have any interest in having a new employee and you can promise me more interesting assignments than just laying around and seducing people brought to me, then I want in. I'm tired of being just a tool, I have a one-forty-seven IQ and two masters degrees. Put me to work. Shawn here will know how to contact me."

I'm rather shocked at this turn of events, but her voice has hardly died when her mobi chimes.

"Yes?" she answers. She obviously has an implant; I can't hear anything but she is listening intently to something... her eyes even close. "Yes, I can be there."

Another silence. Seconds pass. A minute.

"I'll be there. Thank you."

Her eyes open, she focuses on my face, and an honest smile develops, "Jix! They really are listening to you."

"I aim to please," I say, but in all honesty, my eyes slip a little down her figure.

"Sorry, Shawn, but that's not something you need concern yourself with."

"Oh."

She smiles, "Stick to the single mom, I bet she would be glad of it."

"I don't even know if she's interested."

"Two of those kids are her kid sister's. Her late kid sister."

"Oh." I wonder if I should know this, or if it's better to let Jurdi tell me. "Please don't tell me anything more. If she wants to tell me, I want her to do it."

Xin cocks her head a bit to one side, "You like her, don't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Have a good evening, Mr. Ryan." Xin turns and is out the ship's hatch before I can say another word.

…..

"Torre Nor D2, Doctor Harrington's office," the bright young face in the mobi holo asserts.

From my perch overlooking winding rows of tea bushes, the morning air momentarily distracts me.

"Sir?"

"Oh, yeah... I'm Shawn Ryan. I'm due in tomorrow for a skull fracture test."

"Um, do you know what... oh, I have it. You have a Cranial Integrity Assessment at 1400 followed by a Flight Clearance Eval with Dr. Harrington. Do you need to reschedule?"

"Yeah, is there any way to move it up to today?"

"Um..." she seems to be studying something, "Let me check with Lisa, they might have had a cancellation. Will you hold?"

"Sure."

The young woman's face vanishes, replaced by what I can only assume are vids of someone's kittens. Hmmm, there are a lot of kittens, doing what seem to be rather stupid stunts, accompanied by or sometimes coreographed to annoying music, but I really don't have to watch and the sound isn't blaring... (sigh).

The girl is back, "Mr. Ryan? Lisa says that they had a 1130 cancellation, but Dr. Harrington won't be able to see you until almost 1430. Does that work for you?"

I wonder if it is worth rushing around, just to sit and wait. Kree'Gna is probably already gone and I still haven't heard from Brother Colum. Hmmmph. Decisions, decisions.

"Otherwise, you can still come in as scheduled tomorrow," she states the obvious.

"You know, I think I'll just do tomorrow and take it easy here today."

"Okay," she says with a perky expression. "Um, is there anything else you need, Mr. Ryan?"

"Nah, that'll do. Thanks."

…..

A rather lanky looking man in simple but clean work clothes is loping up the hillside using a trail that my pickers normally use. I'm sure I don't know him, but right now I figure someone walking in plain sight is either not here to kill me or deserves his shot. As he closes on the bench I occupy, it becomes apparent that he is not so much lanky as really tall, probably as close to two meters as any human I've ever met. He seems to move smoothly, perhaps I should worry that this is an assassin after all...

"Mr. Ryan?" he calls before he is within twenty meters.

"Guilty as charged."

Now he is certain it's me and steps confidently my way. I have this odd feeling that I have seen his face, but I'm sure it is just someone similar.

"Brother Colum said you might have a task for me."

I am once again surprised. "Well, if you mean managing the plantation until I've gotten replacements..." he nods as I speak, "... well, then I guess I do."

He extends his massive right paw... er... hand towards me and states simply, "I'm Dean Olivian."

That name rings a bell, and my expression must indicate my mental search for the reason, because he continues, "Yes, that Dean Olivian."

"Well, I guess I'm not quite up to speed yet, I'm still trying to remember where..."

"SATAball?"

"Ohhhh... the center for that really good Earth team back in the early thirties?!"

"Yup, took the trophy in '31 and '33." He pauses and his expression changes to one almost of sorrow with his eyes downcast. "Sorry, I'm still learning this stuff. I guess this isn't exactly what you expected, right?"

"Well, no, but I bet there's a great story behind it."

He chuckles, "Yeah, there is a story, but maybe that should wait. What about your job?"

"Well, have you ever managed a tea plantation?"

"No, but I had a cocoa plantation for five years that I ran myself." His countenance falls again, "Lost it in the second divorce."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He shrugs as if it didn't matter, but his eyes belie that.

"Well," I start, "Let's begin with a walk around...

…..

Jurdi's Freelancer seems to be on approach, though from where Dean and I stand near the rolling shed I have to wonder if there are stabilizer problems of some sort; that or Jurdi may need some refresher piloting classes... not that I would want to be the one to break it to her.

Dean seems to have the same opinion. "You expecting someone that flies drunk?" he asks with a bemused tone that also advertises disdain.

"Well, that 'Lancer belongs to a friend who may become a business partner... but I hope she hasn't been drinking."

He looks at the unsteady landing and back at me, "Yeah, me too. Maybe we should move clear though... just in case."

The big craft strays a bit towards my M50 and I start to wonder if I should have parked it under shelter last night. At the last possible moment, the trajectory corrects and she is suddenly landing with grace the previous motions lacked.

…..

After what seems like a short forever, the main access opens and four disembark, led by Bashir. I have to admit that he seems to be in a better mood than last night. Dean and I walk towards the small family

Bashir's eyes grow into saucers and his jaw unhinges. "Dean Olivian?!" he asks in a loud voice that borders on worshipful.

Beside me, the big man grins and smiles. To me he comments, "See, a lot of people still recognize me."

"You okay with that?" I ask, remembering some of his comments earlier.

His brows knot a bit, then Bashir runs up and demands attention. "IT IS YOU!" he shouts as if we were both stone deaf, "Dean Olivian! Mama! This is Dean Olivian! For REAL!" He looks back at Dean who now towers above him, "Can I bump your fist? Um, Sir?"

The paw extends and Bashir's little mitts seem like a kitten's next to a full grown somal.

"Dean," I say kindly, "This is Bashir."

The teen nods and the ex-center says, "Pleased to meet you, Bashir."

"I STILL remember the spike you got from the third barrier," Bashir exclaims, "That was poetry in motion!"

The big man smiles, "Yeah, caught Billy Salls out of position, that was a lucky shot."

"Skill and skill alone!" Bashir insists and I see Dean smile at the praise.

Jurdi arrives with the wee ones and before I can introduce them, Bashir bursts out, "Mama, this is Dean Olivian!"

"He the one you used to have the poster of?"

"Yeah, the one from the '31 New Yorkers."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Olivian."

Dean seems momentarily speechless and simply holds her gaze.

I try to break the spell, "Dean, this is my friend and potential partner, Jurdi Abboud."

"Enchanted, Ma'am," Dean says in an entirely different tone of voice.

Jurdi seems interested in Dean as well... this is not exactly going according to plan.

"Jurdi?" I ask, managing to finally break the connection between them.

"Yes, Shawn?"

"I was wondering if we need to have someone take a look at you ship, it seemed not to respond very..."

Angrily, Bashir snaps, "I was flying it, okay? I'm still learning, okay? I'm SORRY, OKAY?!"

Now it makes sense, Jurdi wasn't intoxicated, she was second seat letting Bashir fly, at least until he almost hit my M50.

She gives him an angry look easily the match for his own and I see him glance up at Dean. Towering above him is a disappointed disapproving look and Bashir is suddenly the sullen lad I met last night. He stomps off towards the ship, daggers flying in every look my way.

"I'm sorry you had to see him like that, Mr. Olivian," Jurdi says quietly.

"Please, Ma'am, call me Dean."

I get the feeling that I need to be cleared to fly again... soon.