"Well, what's the verdict, Doc?" I ask Doctor Harrington as he ushers me into his office after much too long in their testing lab, torture chamber, whatever.

"I've been reviewing the guidelines for flight release, not being a flight surgeon myself, and I think you can give it a try if you are willing to accept a few risks and follow some of these advisories."

"Like what?"

He drags something off of the main glas on his desk and onto the big wall glas. It is obviously associated with the Navy, but the document is also marked with the Office of the Aerospace Surgeon General's seal.

Doc Harrington stands and points to something high on the list, reading it off as if I couldn't do so myself. "Pilots who have suffered skull fractures and/or traumatic brain injuries are to be strongly advised to load their PESP (Personal Eject Survival Package) with DSML (commonly called 'MUD') instead of ALDL (commonly called 'Antifreeze') to increase survivability. This should be maintained for at least a month or until the fracture is completely stable." He looks at me with what might actually be uncertainty, "Without spending a lot of time reading so I can try to explain this, do you already know what it means?"

I laugh in an understanding manner and decide to save him the time, "Yeah, Doc, I got that one."

"Can you explain it to me... without taking a lot of time?"

"Sure, MUD and Antifreeze are options to increase our survivability odds out there..." I point at the ceiling, "... when our ship gets shot out from underneath us and we get to see the Banner with only our helmets in front of our faces." I turn down the collar of my flight suit and show the small package that normally rides on top of my jugular vein. "This thing will air inject me with a complete dose if I eject."

"Oh. I see."

"I use MUD anyway, Antifreeze is for the Navy and other fighter jocks who accept the trade-offs."

He looks interested and says, "Go on."

"The way it was explained to me, MUD is based on the formula that cryo sleepers got hundreds of years ago. It is slow acting, takes more than a minute before your eyes close, when they recover you they have to flush your bloodstream for a couple days to get you to a state even resembling awake, and it is easily a week before you can fly again... but, and these are a huge in my opinion, you can survive even if your suit is ruptured or you are injured... plus, you stay in stasis until you are picked up. You can float there for a month and have no more ill effects than if you were picked up in ten minutes.

"In contrast, Antifreeze is very fast acting, by the time you've ejected clear of your wreckage you are out cold... almost literally. It rapidly allows your body to bleed heat and in a minute or so, it is much harder to spot your rapidly cooling body on an IR sweep, and once they've cleaned you out you can be combat ready in less than 24 hours."

"So that's why the Navy uses it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. In fact they count on some of its limitations as good things. For example, the stasis really isn't a deep freeze, if you aren't pulled in within twenty-four hours, you're dead. Also, unlike MUD where you keep your own blood and they cleanse your body as you thaw, with Antifreeze they have to replace your blood altogether. That is great if a Naval S&R MedEvac is close, but it also works to keep stranded pilots from becoming prisoners. One problem they can't ease is what the pilots call 'Freezer Burn', a massive headache that lasts for a day or so after you wake. I've seen pilots crying from it."

"Wow, I'm kinda glad I stayed planet-side."

"You've never been out of system?"

"Never been out of atmosphere."

"Oh. Wow. Want a ride some time?"

He smiles, "Maybe when you don't have people trying to blow you up or shoot you in front of me."

"Sorry about that."

"It wasn't your fault... was it?"

"Not on purpose."

I'm not sure if his expression is a strained smile or a grimace. "I think I'll keep my feet on Terra firma for now. Have you ever needed that stuff?" he concludes, with a gesture at my throat.

"Four times, last one just over ten standards back."

"I'll never understand why you do it, seems insane to me."

I shrug, "Fair enough. What else should I consider?" As he turns back to face the document, I wonder to myself if maybe he is right... maybe I am certifiable.

…..

There is a gentle sense to a spacecraft when it is station-keeping while in low orbit. Velocity needs only the occasional correction as momentum pretty much rules the day. I'm high above the planet, just passing over New Austin for the second time... not doing anything crucial other than needing to see the stars up close again.

I've still got to sort out the mess with Jurdi and decide if I want Dean to hold down the fort while I'm away. I hate to admit it, but she looked at him like I wish she would look at me. Well, I should never have let myself imagine that I would have more place in her life than perhaps a partnership.

For that matter, now that I'm cleared to fly again, I should be calling Athas Mgren with my status. I guess I really just need a few minutes to myself up here with the grav off and the lights dimmed all the way down. The Great Banner is spectacular above the M50's arched dome... I really do feel like I could reach out my hand and run my fingers through that glowing sand overhead.

Reality finally sets in as my orbit again fits the landing pattern back down to the Torre Nor uplands and my plantation. I wish I could just sit here, but another half hour will just make it dark when I get back. As the cockpit glas brighten, the ALS blinks with approach vectors and the proper reentry landing sequence to follow. I fire reverse thrust and add a looping bank to further bleed off the speed; the retros push me firmly into my seat while I feel the centrifugal gravity grow. Between the forced plumes of plasma and the wide corkscrews, I swiftly drop from nearly 25,000kph to a mere 800, falling below the sonic barrier before I straighten out to fly the rest of the way to my pad.

…..

"Ah, there you are, Shawn," Brother Colum is the first to rise as I walk from the ship into my hangar.

"Good evening, Brother Colum."

"Mr. Ryan, welcome back," Dean Olivian says, also rising.

"Mr. Olivian," I reply, though I'm rather unsure what my tone reveals about my underlying thoughts.

Jurdi rises slowly, though perhaps having two snoozing little ones curled up against her is part of the reason. I don't see Bashir, but can't help being wary of an unannounced appearance. "Shawn," she acknowledges as she finally reaches her feet.

"Ms. Abboud," is out before I realize it; chill enters her expression... and maybe a bit of confusion shows in Brother Colum's as well. At least Dean seems to have missed it... for now.

"Shawn," Brother Colum says, "We were trying to divine your desires about Dean helping out for the next few weeks... but we haven't really got any ideas. Care to enlighten us?"

Jurdi's eyes move from me back to Dean, then return to my face. She has such an open honest face, I just wish my decision didn't involve probably losing her... er, no, that isn't true, is it? She really isn't mine to lose. But if I hire Dean to stand in, I suspect I'm basically putting the two of them together and it feels like I'm losing her just when I had let myself imagine the impossible.

"May I speak privately with you, Shawn?" Brother Colum asks.

"Yeah, sure," I reply while turning back towards the growing darkness.

We walk to the slope's brow and look down to the tea plants that fall away before us in their ranks and rows. I can smell the distant sea on the wind; it brings a wish for life to have been different... but it can never be: I will never be young again, nor have the chance to choose a life different than the one I've already lived. Brother Colum seems to know that I war within and he lets me stand in silence.

Finally, "Shawn, may I ask what troubles you so?"

"You can ask."

"But you may decide not to answer?"

"Something like that."

"May I ask if it has something to do with Jurdi?"

I glance over at the man and wonder if an answer is worth the air it would take to give it. "Perhaps," is all I let escape.

"And perhaps it also has to do with Dean?" I can tell that he sees something in my expressions; it is obvious that he knows as he asks, "Shawn, does the young woman know of your interest?"

I want to snap at him and interrogate to find out just what business it is of his... but my better self speaks up first, "No. She might have guessed, but no, I've never told her."

"Do you know that her faith is such that she would be unlikely to wish to be unequally yoked?"

"What?"

"Jurdi Abboud is a Believer, a Christian. Evangelical, I would guess; not nearly as different from we Catholics since our biggest differences have been resolved over the centuries... but unless I miss my guess, you are not a Christian of any sort."

"So?" escapes me before I can think the question through.

"She will probably take the admonition not to be unequally yoked very seriously."

"I still don't get the plowing allusion."

"There is a gulf between you that you can not understand."

"Because I'm too old?"

He chuckles, "No, because she knows a different point of view." I think he knows I'm about to protest, so he continues with hardly any pause, "Imagine describing the thrill of space flight out under the Banner to someone who has always lived planet-bound. Would they understand, even if they knew all the details and had seen starry nights from say this spot in the Torre Nor?"

"Of course they wouldn't understand, but what has that got to do with..." My voice trails off. Even if I don't understand, maybe it isn't worth the frustration. "So, you brought Dean here to meet Jurdi? Is he one of her kind?"

Brother Colum laughs, a genuine laugh, not contrived or forced... jolly is the word I think I want. "Shawn, it was not only not my thought, it may be an unfortunate choice for him as well."

"She is a good woman," I say somewhat defensively.

"No, I don't mean that. You see, Dean is a postulate, someone who came to the Abbey to join our order. He was sent to us in Weymouth because the Abbot knows I'm a sucker for hard luck cases."

"Come again?"

"Dean was a SATAballer, pretty good one, too, or so I hear. That means he has developed an unfortunate mountain of pride, something that is a liability. You see, a Franciscan Friar is expected to model humility. Dean is struggling with wanting to change his life from the wreck he made of it, and we are praying that he will be able to meet a challenge like your plantation manager job without reverting to the person he was before he came to us. I chose to send him to you because I believe that there is something special about your circumstance here and think it will help him decide."

"So you want me to give him the job even though the two of them are making eyes at each other."

He seems to be looking through me. "You can not lose what is not yours, Shawn."

"How would you know?"

He avoids my answer, "Did you not feel affection for Camilla, even though she was Arron's wife?"

Angrily, I start to respond, "I didn't do..."

He interrupts deftly, "I'm not suggesting you did anything improper, Shawn. But did you not feel a family bond that was wounded when she passed on?"

I look him in the eye; he is asking the obvious to help me realize just how obvious it is. "Yes, I guess so."

"You may feel the same if Jurdi becomes involved with another man. It does not mean you were meant for her nor that your affection is somehow foolish, just that she can be important like Camilla was."

"I don't understand."

"I know."

We both fall silent as a distant thunderhead flashes with a massive lightning-bolt. I hold my breath waiting for the sound, but none ever comes.

…..

Reality can be depressing. I know I need someone to manage the place for a while, if it weren't for Jurdi being here, I wouldn't hesitate to take Dean's assistance. I guess I need to do the right thing, even when it seems to come with a large probability for personal pain.

"Dean?" I begin. He looks up and I continue, "I guess if you are willing, I'll take you up on the temp management bit."

"Jix! Um, Sir. Mr. Ryan."

"Shawn."

"Shawn," he says with a grin.

"I'll need to make arrangements for where you will sleep..."

"No," he interrupts, "I'm staying at the priory."

I feel a hair's breadth of relief, "Oh... well, okay." Remembering Brother Colum's issues with mobis, I ask, "Do you still have your glas?"

He pulls out an exceptionally fancy one and rather sheepishly answers, "Yeah, still do."

I pull mine out and ask, "Can I drag you an account access?"

He smiles "Sure, this thing..." he seems to notice Brother Colum and his voice trails off. "Yes, sir, let me bring up a blank to put it on."

His glas shimmers to life just as my own does. As his fingers dance through some holo sequence, I log in to my accounts and pull up a management screen. He steps closer and I drag a moderate level of access onto his glas. He looks it over and nods.

"That look good enough for you to manage payroll and keep things rolling in and out?" I ask, wondering if this is really all that wise a move... conveniently ignoring the fact that I had hired Camilla for the same job with many of the same reservations.

"This should work, Shawn," he replies confidently. "Thanks for giving me the chance."

I look over at Brother Colum and wonder which of us has actually given him anything.

Jurdi has walked up without my noticing. "Congratulations, Mr. Olivian," she purrs and I'm again at war with myself.

I glance Brother Colum's way and see that he is watching me. I nod and turn back towards the M50.

"Shawn?" Jurdi calls and I discover her running up behind me.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Got a minute? I need to ask you some things."

"Yeah, I guess," is my answer, even though I'm sure I will hate all the questions.

"You still okay with me being a partner?"

I shrug, "Guess so."

I think she is trying to look under my skin at what I really think inside. That or she is trying to understand my body language; maybe she suspects that I'm not saying everything.

"Shawn, may I ask you a personal question?"

I nod.

"Have you ever married?"

With an immense well opening up inside, I shake my head 'no'.

She follows up with, "Why?"

Again I shrug, "Maybe no woman would have a footloose vagabond more in love with the stars than with her."

"I see. One more, please forgive me for prying, but are you a Christian?"

I shake my head and imagine I see her expression fall with a hint of disappointment. "No problem. You don't mind having a partner who is, do you?"

"No. You gotta believe what you have to believe. Camilla and Arron were Christians, I guess. It never was an issue." I don't mention the surprise I felt when I discovered that Christians even existed out here, much less that Camilla and Arron both were members... or whatever the term is.

"Is that where you know Brother Colum from?"

"Not directly, they were friends with Brother Patrick. From the same place. Um, Priory."

Quietly, she says, "I see."

"I met Brother Colum while I was in the hospital." I glance towards the empty space where the big house stood not that long ago.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Shawn." She waits until I look back at her and then says, "Look, I still want in if that is okay with you."

Once more I shrug. "Yeah, sure."

She looks at me as if she knows there is a lot more I'm not saying, but then she says, "Okay. I'll be glad to listen if you want to say whatever."

I nod and she tries again to look into my soul.

I blink and she suddenly turns away to rejoin the children.

…..

"Shawn Ryan calling the Xi'An Embassy."

The cockpit is silent as I wait for the reply. I've always spoken with Kree'Gna, I'm not even sure what the protocol is for calling a Diplomat.

The stillness breaks, "Officer Dall Klack to Shawn Ryan. How may we assist you?"

"Kree'Gna ordered me to report to Diplomat Mgren as soon as I was cleared to fly. I am doing as instructed."

Again, the wait as my signal bounces off a high orbit communications satellite and out to the Embassy. The time is doubled for round trip, plus time for...

"Shawn Ryan, I am to request that you come to the Embassy in person for your next mission. Diplomat Mgren will speak with you here."

"I'll be off the ground in fifteen stamin."

I touch the options and the M50 comes to life. Glas for the checklist insistently reach out on flimsy seeming arms awaiting my attention and approval. The powerplant comes to life and each thruster blows a breath of exhaust.

Over near the light, Jurdi, Dean, and Brother Colum are talking. I think I see them look my way, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen Bashir and guess that this evening I've lucked out on dealing with that problem. I have no clue how I'll ever talk with that lad, or if he'll ever have a nice word for me. I touch the throttle and I see Jurdi raise her hand to wave goodbye. Camilla used to do that some times; I'm not sure how I feel about Jurdi doing it... especially when Dean is all but standing next to her. My craft rises and the hangar rapidly obscures the trio.

Ahead are the stars... and the sense that I'm coming home.

The throttle responds with my heart and I soar rapidly to the higher reaches of Terra's thin blue blanket. Here at the border of air and space I ease off for a moment, just to wonder if what I told Jurdi is really true... do I love flying out here more than I ever could love a woman? Part of me feels a deep inconsolable loss knowing that it is indeed true, but above me the siren call of the Great Banner beckons me to cast off my yearnings and push my limits yet again.

(sigh) Maybe it is better to do than let emotions I don't understand try to tie me to things I will never have.

Throttle up. I feel the reassurance of acceleration G's pull me into my seat's gentle embrace. The harness snugs up and I'm flung headlong into the black womb of space.

…..

"Shawn Ryan is calling the Xi'An Embassy."

I'm floating before the grand tumble of the Xi'An Embassy, letting it eclipse the starlight streaming from Terra itself.

"Officer Dall Klack to Shawn Ryan. You are cleared to dock in the third tier at the far left. The doors are opening now and you should see the landing glyphs you need to follow. At twenty meters, please assume station keeping until we tractor you in."

"Yes, Dall Klack, I see them and will do as instructed."

"Please remain in your craft upon landing until security has indicated you may enter the platform."

"Very good, sir. Landing initiated. Thank you."

Directional thrusters move me to the proper plane, and I'm soon floating motionless before the open bay door. A slight tug as the tractor beam aquires me and I'm gliding forward. Under the station's control, my ship enters, then turns to face out as the massive doors close. Blinking glyphs indicate caution, the few I can read are about danger if lit... or something along those lines.

The doors close and the ground crew approaches with quite a number of the well armed equivalent of our Marines in tow.

While several seem to poke around with odd little devices, I bring up the Imperator's instructions and work on memorizing them. His face repeats it with me, "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."

There is a tapping sound on the dome beside my head and I look to see a powerfully build Xi'An is obviously trying to get my attention with the business end of some beam weapon. I peel my helmet off and open the canopy. He steps back a bit on what appears to be a maintenance platform.

"Slath! (Move!)," he orders; I release my harness and obey. Before I can even reach the deck, I'm being swept by what must be their most powerful scanners... I would swear that my body tingles as their wands sweep past.

Finally, a familiar character appears; Ksan Ko'Kree's lizard-like face rises above the platform as he ascends the stairs. He glances my way, then converses with the officer in charge. Were I to guess, either he is annoyed or frustrated by what he hears.

He turns my way says simply, "Leave your weapon in your ship, then you will follow me." No pleasantries, no courtesy, just the order.

I try not to appear offended and do as instructed.

…..

"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. We are delighted that you have recovered and returned to honor our persons with your presence."

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Mahhragna ith ilxag," I reply with a proper (I think) bow.

Ksan Ko'Kree heads for the corner he occupied the first time I saw him, I wonder if he has gizmo's over there that make observing more suited to intel gathering... or maybe he has stuff that works like a lie detector... I'll probably never know.

Diplomat Mgren, however, rises from her seat and walks my way, "How are you, Shawn Ryan? The last time I saw you, you appeared very shaken by the shootout in your room."

I chuckle a bit, then remember my manners, "Yes, Diplomat Mgren, I was rather unsettled by the situation. I'm doing better now..." I glance over at Ksan and note he is studying me from under heavy lids, "At least I think I'm doing better. I have a message for you and His... um... Excellency?"

"The His Imperial Highness? Emperor Kray?"

"Yes, Ma'am." My voice falls so hopefully she is the only one to hear me, "From Imperator Costigan himself."

Her look is appraising. Now it is her turn to cast her eyes in Ksan Ko'Kree's direction. He catches the look and seems surprised... he was not expecting it and it brings some amount of worry to his expression.

"Ksan, I need you to find Diplomat Leelk. Please escort him here personally."

The Seer looks quickly my way and then steps swiftly out of the room."

"You may continue," she instructs.

"The Imperator will be making a speech on Earth in three days about some issues between Earth and Mars... I forget what. He will say, 'Indigent representation is imperative to allow both sides to constructively communicate,' … um... there is more, just a moment... er... 'It isn't about back channels, it's about building trust.' I think that is right, may I put on my helmet and replay his orders? He thinks it is important that I get the words just right."

"Yes, Shawn Ryan."

"Thank you." I pull on the helmet, find the order, and repeat it as he says it, "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."

Pulling the helmet back off, I look at her and finish, "The Imperator said that these words will not be in any printed version of his speech released before he has actually spoken. He is doing this because he wants to validate that I'm now available for either His Imperial Majesty or The Imperator to have another back channel to communicate through."

"Shawn Ryan, I thank you for telling me this. I fear that forces are moving that may make this offer important. I will evaluate this and we will watch to confirm that what you have said is true. I presume I may share this with Diplomat Leelk and Emperor Kray."

"Athas Mgren, I must trust you to share this with those who must know." I think of Dnong and add, perhaps too hastily, "I suspect there are those on your side who might not want me in..."

Uncharacteristically, she interrupts, "Ah, here is Diplomat Leelk himself!" Then almost too quietly to hear she adds, "Say no more."

Diplomat Leelk walks with a calm grace that I rarely see in our government types. I could say he flows across the floor as accurately as I can say he walks the distance. At first, I'm sure he sees me, then I realize that he is focused on Athas and I have to wonder if the initial impression wasn't an illusion.

"Torsi Leelk, Shē'sueren." She continues in rapid Xi'An and I can't follow. I do note that his eyes play in my direction for a moment, but his attention returns to Diplomat Mgren.

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren," he replies after she has finished. He, too, speaks in Xi'An, though with a lot less emotion expressed.

Finally, as he looks evenly in my direction, I get the awful sense that he is a murderous poker player: I can't be sure I see anything in his body language or face. I offer a bow and try to remember my Xi'An protocol for greeting a higher ranking person with whom I'm not already acquainted.

I'm saved by Athas' introduction, "Diplomat Leelk, please see Imperial Contractor Shawn Ryan."

He bows my direction and then she addresses me, "His Imperial Majesty, First Above All Hatched, Emperor Kray has sent Diplomat Leelk to serve as his voice to the UEE. Please recognize our Emperor in his servant."

Again, I'm sure there must be some proper way to respond, but I sure don't know it. He waits for a moment, then seems to recognize my hesitation, "Contractor Ryan. Seer Ksan has told me much about you." There is no hint of what that could mean, but I am sure it was not what I expected him to say. Indeed, much as his appearance is expressively neutral, so now his voice is, too. I feel rather less at ease than I would prefer. Again, he waits.

"Diplomat Leelk, please forgive me for not knowing the proper greeting for the Emperor's voice."

He nods and says, "We will share that knowledge with you. For now, let it be enough that we have acknowledged each other."

"Yes, Sir."

"You are not as tall as you appeared in your hospital bed."

"Um... please... um..." What should I say? I sure don't know, so I just shrug and say, "Yes, sir."

There is a hint of wrinkle at the corners of his eyes. Without looking over his shoulder at the intel officer, he says something I don't understand... but Ksan Ko'Kree nods and replies in equally indecipherable Xi'An.

"You are not accustomed to this type of meeting."

"No, Sir."

He glances towards Athas, then back at me, "I understand that Seer Dnong has a very strong opinion about you."

I smile ruefully and nod just enough to confirm this before he continues.

"I also understand that my deputy," here he looks at Athas Mgren and almost smiles before looking back my way, "Is at least equally emphatic in her assessment of your value to our courier Kree'Gna and hence the whole Xi'An Empire."

He pauses, obviously awaiting some response on my part. I'm not at all sure what to say, but my gut tells me to just be myself and let things work out that way.

I reply with a grin, "Yes, sir. I enjoy being Kree'Gna's wing. He's a real credit to your Emperor."

Just a hint of a nod before he speaks, "I understand your affiliation with us has cost you your home. Is this true?"

"Well, there is some suspicion that things have gone badly because of that, but I don't know that for sure, sir."

"You are not associated with Jenk Gallen, are you?"

"No, sir."

He nods. "The trial is going to go ahead."

Again, I don't know what to say. "I guess greater persons than myself decide those things, sir."

"You have no opinion?"

I shrug and admit, "I don't know the person. I'm sorry that everyone seems to be getting upset and I worry about all the saber rattling... but I'm just little people, matters of state aren't my brief."

"If they were?"

How can I answer and still leave room for whatever role Imperator Costigan has in mind for me? Finally, I try, "Considering how Byzantine politics in the UEE are, I'm not sure my opinion would matter unless I were the Imperator."

He nods and I get the sense that the meeting is over as he speaks with Athas Mgren. Ksan Ko'Kree is eying me with something that might be interest... or he might be hungry.

Unexpectedly, Diplomat Leelk looks back at me and announces, "Kree'Gna will not be back for at least four days. We have a craft that will be running to Earth in six hours, I am assigning you to run with its guard detail."

"Yes, Sir."

…..

"Shawn Ryan, you need to wake up and get ready to FLY!" Duncan Fisher announces loudly enough to wake the dead... or me from my nap. I'm in one of the sparse 'ground' rooms in the Embassy; it is spartan by even the most ascetic human standards, but I've been able to recline and use a flight jacket as a pillow to sleep. I can take a quick potty break down the hall before the endurance run to Earth in my M50.

"You awake yet?!" Duncan's voice booms from my mobi and I wonder if I'm letting him wake others nearby.

"I'm awake, Duncan."

The volume comes down markedly, "Good, I was concerned that you'd gone into hibernation."

"I'll be there shortly. Please cancel the alarm and get the minor systems ready for me to preflight."

"Well... okay." I'm sometimes amazed at the smallest things about Duncan's programming, right now it's the almost pouting tone that seems to tickle me. I imagine a male child kinda like Rashid with his lip stuck out and that almost defiant disappointment in something. I bet I did that a lot when I was a kid.

I follow a set of lit directional arrows to the hangar and my M50. It has been almost six hours since the Diplomat told me to be ready to fly, so I expect communication soon about where I'm going and maybe with whom.

There are two ground-crew working on the sleek craft, making sure the tanks are topped and anything outside that could fall off won't. They both salute me as I approach the craft.

The more senior ranked of the them says in broken English, "The ship, she is good."

I wonder if he is admiring the craft or trying to tell me it is ready to go. In equally broken Xi'An I try to clarify but he just looks at me like I've answered in gibberish... which perhaps I have.

I finally resort to, "Chash'ambosari" and hope saying it's 'good enough' will work. They look at each other, then he nods my way and they return to their duties.

I can't help expecting another Xress, but I don't see any, maybe it is in another bay. I do note a pair of the exotic Qhire Khartu scouts, the type our Navy calls 'Quarks' and a pair of Banshees, all with a significant amount of activity about them.

I clamber up the ladder and settle into my cockpit; my helmet slips down over my face and I'm quickly into the preflight. The warm sound of the powerplant hums through the frame and I indeed feel like I'm sitting in a racer yearning to lunge into action.

My mobi chimes and Ksan Ko'Kree's face appears, "Shawn Ryan, are you prepared?"

"Just finishing preflight now."

"Good. We will depart in five stamin. I am transmitting your sequence locks now."

"You coming with us?" I ask while the locks transmit.

"Yes," he says. "Please assume a station keeping posture outside the Embassy until we are all formed up." With that his face disappears and the connection dies.

"Duncan, please install the sequences and their cyphers."

"Got it. You mean we finally get to punch this thing into overdrive?" He sounds like an excited kid now.

"Yup. Well, hope so. Bite m e, Duncan."

"Banter off."

I wave to my crew and motion that I'm about to depart; they give me the go to start the thrusters but indicate that I'm to wait for the two Banshees to get out.

I've only waited maybe thirty seconds when the first of the two Banshee lifts away from its pad. The second follows smoothly and my ground lead salutes and waves me out.

Thrusters lift me gently and the landing gear rises into the frame. Throttle up just a bit and I'm moving out through the pressure field. In the star laden dark, I recognize that the Banshee are both forming up with me. The two Quarks have followed me out, one moves pretty quickly behind me and the other one moves out in front.

"Commander Malit Nog to Shawn Ryan. I am in command of Diplomat Leelk's security escort. Please initiate sequenced communications."

I reply, "Sequence and cyphers locked in, switching now." I make the switch and the indicators look green. "Shawn Ryan calling Commander Malit Nog. Communications check."

"You are clear and connected."

"As are you, sir."

In an even tone, the Commander continues, "I understand you are not proficient in Xi'An and I have been asked to relate appropriate orders for you. Once the Diplomat's craft has left the Embassy, please take a position above it at a distance of one hundred ninety-two point seven meters. You are to defend his craft at any cost. You will hold the pinnacle position in a standard triangle with the Loaqlaa' (Banshee) at the lower points, but if those fighters break off, remain with the Diplomat's craft as much as possible. The Khartu will hold van and trailing positions. Do you understand these orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, The Diplomat's Zsark is launching now."

The Zsark is oddly shaped, even for a Xi'An craft. Larger than a Connie, yet like many of their craft it is vertically oriented. I float to the top of the triangle formation hanging like a separated dorsal fin above it.

To me, the Commander says, "On the count of three, we will move out. You do know how to count in Xi'An, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

The comm blares, "Taax. Mit. Xre. Slath. (Three. Two. One. Move.)"

I push the throttle and feel the twin thrusters hurl me towards a blackout, only to realize that I'm pulling away the rest of the formation.

The Commander has noticed, too. Direct to my comm he chides, "We are not in Xress, Shawn Ryan. Diplomat Leelk's Zsark is not even a fighter class ship."

Backing away to match the group's curve more closely, I sheepishly reply, "My error, Commander Malit Nog. I will make the proper corrections."

I resume position and the commander says, "Position corrected. Proceed."

Duncan picks this moment to chime in, "Rather helpful, if somewhat anal."

I am SO glad that his comments don't go out on the sequence but are for my personal consumption only. "Well, I was flying like I meant to try to keep up with Kree'Gna."

"Yeah, and...?"

"It was my mistake."

"You need to take more of my advice."

We are all approaching .01c. I make a minor course correction to get further into the lane and set my cruise. "Well, what kind of advice?"

"Fly fast and work your way onto the racing circuit."

"Why wouldn't I just do what I'm doing now?"

"Because it's BORING!"

I wonder how far his algorithms can take this kind of conversation so I play along, "Hey, don't forget all the attempts on my life."

"This is a selling point?"

"Well, it was excitement."

"Not anything you had fun with while actually flying this little sled. When I was a pilot, we wanted to enjoy space, not have someone else ruin it for us."

"You mean by working, right?"

"Mere work is for lesser people. I am destined for greatness! Which means you are destined for greatness, too. It's high time you listened to my advice, especially since you are such a lousy shot."

"Excuse me?"

"There is no excuse, Ryan. You need to go into racing and leave the shooting to folks who understand it."

"That's encouraging."

"Oh, sorry. I sure didn't mean it to be. Wait... you did say 'encouraging' and not 'discouraging', right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Just checking. Face it, you're cannon fodder, there to draw the darts for your charges just because their craft are as maneuverable as an asteroid."

I think I'm reaching a patience limit as we blaze across the night sky. "Anything else, Duncan?"

"Don't get me started. Well... no, I guess you just did," I can almost hear a smile in his voice, then he "takes" a simulated breath. A happy bit of software... not my idea of a good thing.

"First..." he begins.

"Bite m e, Duncan."

Silence reigns as we rocket towards the first jump.

…..

As we've entered each system, we have been challenged by UEEN patrols, then followed by flights of four until we reach the next jump. We exit the jump into Earth's system and waltz right into an entire flotilla hanging in space before us. I may not get to Earth very often, but I've never seen this kind of welcome party even in somewhat "at risk" systems.

Our comms light up as the Navy hails us, "Xi'An party! This is Captain Kuti of the United Earth Empire Navy. You will immediately stand to and identify yourselves and your intent." The squadron is deploying around us, weapons pointed in and I start to wonder if perhaps there is new development... like a declaration of war?

"This is Commander Malit Nog of the Xi'An Navy, assigned to Diplomatic Protection Detail. All craft in this formation are assigned to Diplomat Torsi Leelk. Is there a problem Captain Kuti?"

"We copy your information. You will power down all weapons and shields and hold position."

"We will do as instructed. Diplomat Torsi Leelk, however, has asked me to repeat the question, is there a problem?"

"We'll see."

The direct comm link activates and the Xi'An Commander says, "Make sure your weapons and shields are powered down, Shawn Ryan. This is not usual activity and we desire no excuse for your navy to act with hostility."

I disarm my cannon and shut down the defender generator. "Done as ordered, Commander Malit Nog."

The power of the sensor sweep is WAY overblown, I'm sure I could feel the energy waves even if my systems weren't screaming alerts.

"Commander of Xi'An diplomatic detail, you are cleared to head directly to the Xi'An Embassy at Earth. We are to provide escort. You will not power on any weapons unless attacked. Do not exceed 2g acceleration or standard cruise while on direct vector to Earth."

Fat chance we will be attacked by anyone other than the mob already surrounding us. With four of the new Hornets, at least as many Gladius, and another quartet of gunships back there, I don't see much reason to think any other force would be fool enough to risk it.

I imagine I hear barely hidden anger in the Commander's polite response, "We will abide by your instructions, Captain Kuti. However, Diplomat Leelk formally objects to this treatment and will lodge protest with the authorities on Earth."

There is a laugh on the other end and I can almost imagine the Captain telling us what we can do with our protest. However, what comes over the comms instead is, "One further instruction, you have a human pilot, Shawn Ryan, in your flight. Once you reach Earth, he is to report to the Senate under subpoena to testify at a committee hearing."

That doesn't sound good.

…..

We are on approach to the Xi'An Embassy when my mobiglas lights up with my subpoena: closed door session of the Select Subcommittee of the Intelligence Committee, tentatively scheduled for tomorrow noon, New York local. Wasn't an Intel Committee senator at the Imperator's meet'n'greet? I have to wonder if this isn't another really bad idea, but I go ahead and drag the notice to a forward point on the ship's comm glas... it heads off to the Diplomat Leelk's attention.

Mere moments pass before he answers, "Leave is granted to Imperial Contractor Shawn Ryan to satisfy his duties before his government. Shawn Ryan, you are expected to contact the Xi'An diplomatic mission after your obligations are complete or after three local days, which ever comes first."

I send an acknowledgment and add a short "thank you."

The Zsark is locked onto by their docking tractor and Commander Malit Nog makes his mission completion announcement, "Diplomatic escort detail, you are dismissed to normal recovery and debrief. Shawn Ryan, my orders are to release you completely to attend to other orders; obeying such, you are also dismissed from this detail."

"Thank, you, sir," I reply... and I can almost imagine the look on his face as he ponders what I could be thanking him for.

…..

I'm careful to follow the flight path New York approach has given me, dropping to subsonic more than twenty kilometers out from the first ring of connected suburbs and holding at 3500meters AGL. The pattern is fairly crowded, I'm about two kilometers behind a Starlifter, there is a Connie a kilometer to my left and an Origen 400 something is matching the pace a similar distance to my right. We're all likely headed into the main terminal, an overcrowded stacked structure that probably has more transient population than many mid-sized cities elsewhere. I've only ordered a "bunk-room", even so the cost is obscene for the pleasure of what amounts to little more than a bed on a tray that slides into a hole 110cm by 110cm by 220cm. They're not big enough to sit up, and there's certainly no shower (the showers are down the hall, as are other facilities), but it can be had for about five hundred Imperials... and it is a lot more comfortable than an M50 cockpit for a good night's sleep.

I'm approaching the dusk wedge as I come in with the sun behind me. City lights already blaze brighter than the stars of the Great Banner do when I'm out in space, but these bring me no real peace.

Instantly recognizable government megaliths are becoming common and a sense of dread follows quickly. That lady Senator wasn't interested in the truth, I bet my being here is not what the Imperator had planned.

There is something to be said about the Terran system's political configuration: normal people live mostly on Terra and the Government weenies are the majority denizens of Gen. Earth? Well, in my humble opinion, Earth never got that one right. If there is a political equivalent to the mythical Eden, I guarantee it is somewhere on Earth, probably hidden under the Imperial Senate campus. Heck, considering that the Senate grounds in New York City are so large that they are all but visible from orbit, I might be forgiven if I were to speculate that said political Eden is actually somewhere in NYC under a controlled access SecuriPlating dome.

…..

The attendant looks up with something less than complete utter boredom, "Yeah?"

"I've got a reservation for a bunk."

"Yeah, morgue check-in is on thirty-three."

"Morgue?"

He laughs coarsely, "Yeah, them tray things look like what they drop bodies on. What do you call 'em?"

"Bunks."

He shakes his head, "Whatever."

I know I could ask my mobi, but I continue just for the moment of human contact, "Which way?"

His eyes have returned to whatever but he drones, "Elevator bank seventeen on your left a kilometer or so," his thumb gestures, "That way."

"Thanks."